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9da56299292f4eebb61ad6fc5680d0af | ['e208064b244c4070a38e27d654e90a0a'] | Circumstances about a year ago had found me making friends with a few other girls since Kyouko. Miki Sayaka-- she had been enthusiastic but burned out too soon. Regardless she held a place in my heart for the sheer force of her personality. She had passed over with a smile.
And then there was Akemi Homura, aloof but kind, a beautiful red ribbon in her hair that reminded me of my own special red ribbon. She was stoic and quiet, but she lit right up when you asked her if she loved someone. She spoke of Kaname Madoka with the unashamed tone of a lover, with such joy that I wished I had met this Madoka, so we could have been friends too.
And then...
A face I hadn't seen except from a certain home movie I only watched when I was feeling really depressed returned, seemingly from the dead.
“Don't expect me to call this home. My home is gone.”
It was true. The Sakura house had been burned down a few months after Kyouko's disappearance. I didn't find out until after she returned that it had been her work. I did not blame her for wanting to erase those memories from the face of the earth.
“It doesn't matter. I'm j-just so glad to have you back.”
I could tell Kyouko didn't want a hug, but she indulged me. She felt wooden and stiff, incapable of returning the hug. But she still let me hug her.
The other magical girls who hadn't known her before her family was shattered wouldn't have known what I knew about her. I wasn't sure Kyouko knew it herself. But for all her fighting spirit and reckless ways, she was... different. Colder. There was a certain hollowness to her eyes and a stiffness in her walk that hadn't been there when she was younger. It hadn't even been there after her parents had died. That was from her wanderings.
It was from the loneliness I had warned her about.
For my part, I get the feeling that I was really socially awkward during those first few days and weeks together. I tried to keep my sobbing out of her way, because I knew it made her uncomfortable, but I think she still noticed. Getting me to keep strong and not be so clingy and simultaneously satisfying my desperate need for companionship was like a bedridden patient being asked to walk after months of solitary slumber. My tongue felt like wood again, my gestures awkward. I kept trying to be physically close, but Kyouko had been so used to being alone for so long that she had to fight her own instincts to push me away. Her social skills hadn't atrophied completely, but they came close. I didn't help matters any.
But we got through it. The days lengthened into weeks. Weeks turned into months. We... adapted. And she stayed. That was the hardest thing for her, I think. She was so used to being able to cut and run whenever she decided she didn't care anymore, and yet she was the one who had come back of her own volition. It still didn't stop me from waking up in the middle of the night, terrified that the sound I had heard was that of Kyouko closing the door behind her as she left and disappeared off into the night again, this time for good.
Sometimes she really had left. And I spent those nights trembling in fear, heart pounding against my ribs like a panicked, frenzied drum sounding the alarm to impending doom.
A few days later, she would come back. She wouldn't say where she had been. I wouldn't ask. But I would greet her with what I knew was the face of someone who had been too close to her fears for comfort.
It was a habit that she dropped over time. Her evening departures came less often and lasted for shorter amounts of time, and eventually they trickled away into nothing. I started breathing a little more easily. Out of the corner of my eye, Kyouko looked relieved.
Kyouko started opening up. She began to initiate conversations with me and not the other way around, and every so often, she would offer me a hug. I always took it. At first they didn't last for very long before she rescinded her offer, but, eventually...
We began to hunt the occasional demon together. We had always been excellent partners. But our fighting styles had developed separately over the past two years, and we had to reconcile them. Habits like that were hard to break. But she learned to pounce in the small pause I gave her after a musket volley, and I learned where the gaps in her chains were so I could fire through them.
I began to make her favourite desserts again. It took some practice, because I hadn't made them in so long. She tackled them with as much enthusiasm as she had before, and I relished watching her. There was a refreshing honesty to her gluttony. That hadn't changed, at least. Even if everything else had.
She never smiled. Not like Homura, who would smile with hidden joy when asked about her beloved Madoka. Not like Sayaka had smiled over her beloved Kamijou. Sure, Kyouko _grinned_. That was different from a smile. She grinned at witches. She never _smiled_ with warmth anymore.
The slow realization that we were different people settled in over time. Different from the people we had been in that silly home video I had taken two years ago. There was no returning to that time, and there never would be. But that was fine with me. The idea of clinging to the past had no appeal to me. However wonderful it had been, the past was the past, and I would be a fool to think that we could bring an age from years ago to the present and make it fit. | 8e3db33f3089418eb3518ae673af48e5 | ['e208064b244c4070a38e27d654e90a0a'] | Kyouko retrieved her spear and the grief seed, looked over at me, face flushed with excitement, and grinned.
“And so, the day is saved, thanks to--”
The sudden flash of realization that she had done all of this dressed in the frilliest, girliest, most overdone magical girl outfit in creation seemed to hit her like a ton of bricks. She froze before she could complete her sentence and her face turned as red as her hair.
“Y-you... YOU RECORDED ALL OF THAT!” she screamed, collapsing to the ground, utterly mortified.
I would have comforted her, but I was too busy saving the file and laughing.
\-----
Two days later, I discovered that the Sailor Moon music collections made great background music when one was doing a baking marathon.
As per my original promise to Kyouko, in exchange for her going to take down a witch in classic magical girl form, I was going to cater her little sister Momo-chan's birthday party. It was the first time Momo-chan would be inviting other kids over for a birthday-- indeed, it was the first birthday party her family could afford to celebrate in lavish style.
Kyouko always became reticent when it came to talking about her family's past. She had told me about it before, though not without reluctance. About how her father's preaching had never been popular, but when he had started to deviate from official church doctrine-- spouting heresies like making love the focus of one's faith and not shaming others for being honest with their emotions-- he had been excommunicated, and cut off from official church support. Taking his message into the streets with his daughters by his side, the kind-hearted preacher had only been spat on, insulted, and publicly humiliated.
Frustrated at seeing her father and his message degraded like that, Kyouko decided to take matters into her own hands, and contracted with Kyubey. Believing that all that needed to happen in order for people to believe her father was for them to give him a chance, she wished for people to listen-- and listen they did. With magic. Not because they believed. It was giving Kyouko a guilt complex, and I worried for her. But I couldn't say so. She never liked it when people openly worried about her.
She was also the best and only magical girl friend I had, so I would have catered her sister's birthday party if she had just asked me without offering anything in return. As far as I was concerned, just being my friend was more than enough return payment. But for her pride, she had to offer something in return.
For her sake, I threw myself into the work of baking everything a little girl with a major sweet tooth could ask for. According to the list of confirmed guests Kyouko passed to me, they would not be able to eat through the massive triple-layered cake I was making for her, but they would eat through the top two layers, leaving the bottom layer for the Sakura sisters to eat over the next few days. To this I added an array of cupcakes (three per guest, at a minimum) with extra frosting, and a lineup of small cakes and confections to be given out as party favors. This was going to be extremely glamorous, and I was enjoying every moment of it, visualizing Kyouko and Momo having an eating contest, and the Sakura parents' proud smiles as they congratulated their younger daughter on turning a year older.
Which is why I set our witch-hunting day two days before Momo's birthday. I was going to need at least two days to do all of this. I didn't think I would finish in time, but I did, and with flair.
I had just finished the last bit of sugar and syrup on a dessert item when Kyouko showed up at my doorstep. I was fairly certain that she was doing her best to block the traumatic event of two days before, and overcompensating as a result. She was wearing short denim shorts and a hooded sweater. No frills to be seen.
“Good afternoon, and you looked better with frills and ribbons,” I told her with a smile. “Come on in.”
She shivered. “I'm never letting you do that to me again.”
“Is that so? Then you might never get to see a bounty like this again,” I said, waving my hand at my trophy room of the finest pastries and baked goods I had ever before made.
Kyouko's jaw dropped.
“C-can I--”
I opened up a box of assorted cupcakes that I had made precisely to distract Kyouko from the rest of the cakes. “Help yourself. Now tell me, how are we supposed to get all of these to your church?”
“In--”
“And don't say 'in my stomach'.”
Still starry-eyed at the sugary paradise garden before her, Kyouko stuck her tongue out at me, and threw her arms around me in a hug.
\-----
Eventually we got them all into boxes, and stacked them onto a cart Kyouko had brought from her church's Sunday School classes. She wouldn't have been able to do it before, but with all the tithes coming in from the booming congregation, Pastor Sakura had been able to buy some actual supplies for the young kids in the church. The path from Mitakihara to Kasamino was thankfully smooth. We couldn't risk carrying the cakes on bicycles, but with enough trips back and forth, we slowly transported all of the baked goods I had made to the site of the party: the newly-renovated fellowship hall of the Sakura Cathedral. |
91ba49be85164d409d695b46514f5af8 | ['e20cbaa0e4554c25a258655f90bd0ecf'] | __The boy simply stood there, his signature black hair stood on end, black eyes wide with fear. But inside, underneath a mass of confusion, he understood. To wake next to the one you loved, who denied you time and again simply because of your gender, only to find he’d just woken from a, seemingly satisfying, wet dream that was probably about some pretty earth girl (as Yuuri was sure Wolf would immediately imply) must be painful._ _
__Of course, denying that something so obviously occurred, and unwilling to give a name to the person he’d dreamed about was probably worse._ _
__But how could he tell him._ _
__Yuuri, who so vehemently believed he was straight – despite that night with MuraKen, he liked girls and only girls (as he constantly reminded himself) – had just had a wet dream about the blond fire-wielder, and liked it so much he’d wish he could experience it in real life._ _
__He couldn’t._ _
__So he said the first thing that came to his mind._ _
__“Damnit Wolfram,” Yuuri finally got out, “How many times do I have to tell you?! We are not getting married! I can’t be with you in that way. You’re a guy and I like girls and only girls. It’s wrong and disgusting and never gonna happen so just STOP!”_ _
__His safety net of 'deny now and apologize later' had always saved him in the past, but today it failed._ _
__Today he watched his best friend die a little inside and he wanted nothing more then to cry._ _
__The sight of MuraKen, glasses obscuring the view of his eyes, leaving his face seemingly blank of emotion, did nothing to calm him in the face of what he'd done._ _
__Even if a part of him was grateful he didn’t have to do it alone._ _
_The Maou shook himself slightly and smiled. Those bad times were over. There was little reason to recall those painful memories, although he needed to take time to truly thank Murata for all the help he'd been. Awkward as it had been, Yuuri probably never would have made it without the Great Sage by his side._
_But his love was with him now, and would be for all eternity._
_At this moment of happiness, he couldn't dwell on the fact that he wished Murata could be beside him in this as well..._
_***_
_Wolfram could hardly breathe by the time his vows were spoken. The day of his dreams was here, he and Yuuri were being bound together for now and all eternity and he never had to worry about that wimp of a cheater - his husband, he thought gleefully - leaving him for some pretty earth girl._
_By Shinou, he could give him anything an earth girl could and more._
_Wolfram steadied himself, making sure he wouldn't faint in front of his uncle, the other nobles and foreign dignitaries, or worse, in front of Yuuri._
_Even after the blessing they'd recieved from the Original King earlier that day, Wolfram couldn’t quite grasp at the fact that this moment was actually happening._
_Because something so perfect couldn’t feel so _wrong_._
_No, not wrong, but something wasn’t quite right._
_Wolfram stared into the eyes of his fiance, his soon to be husband, face flushing with pure joy as they leaned together for their kiss – the kiss that would complete the ceremony, binding them together. The kiss was pure perfection. Eyes closed and lips locked, the world disappeared, the sounds of cheers drowned into nothingness but for the feels of Yuuri’s breath, of Yuuri’s heartbeat, the feel of tongues and hands doing the most indecent of things._
_Finally pulling back, he grinned and swung around, until he saw something that nearly made his heart stop._
__Murata_._
_The flame wielding Mazoku suddenly wanted to cry._
__”von Beilefield-kyo.”_ _
__Wolfram flinched as the Great Sage approached him._ _
__He’d hidden all day, moving from room to room throughout Blood Pledge Castle, before his brother’s, or worse **Yuuri** , found him. But apparently, it seems, he couldn’t quite get away from everyone._ _
__“Geika.”_ _
__Yes, he was being overly formal, but he was in no mood to talk. Right now he wanted to be alone, he wanted to die, and yet he knew that couldn’t - wouldn’t - happen. As much as he hated Yuuri at the moment, he loved that wimp of a Maou to much to leave him, no matter how much pain the naïve boy put him through. That and he was sure the Sage, with that idiotic smile of his, came for just that reason._ _
__“You really are beautiful, von Beilefield-kyo. I can’t begin to understand what’s going through your fiance’s head. Then again Shibuya’s Shibuya.”_ _
__That, he never expected. Then again, it seemed fit._ _
__“What do you want Sage.”_ _
__Green-eyes absorbed the sight of the Soukoku hidden in the shadows. Too bad it was the wrong one._ _
__Murata smiled and stepped further into the room, moving closer, until there was only an inch between them. Wolfram froze, watching the other boy’s hand rise before reaching his face, giving the lightest touch he ever felt in his 85 years of life. He gave in, collapsing against the black-clad boy who was so young, yet so old and cried his heart out. Trusting him to allowed this chance to fall apart and helping to put him back together._ _
_They’d kissed that day. He was pressed tight against the wall, arms and legs wrapped around the other’s body, begging for affection, for even the tiniest feel of intimacy. And even though it started off with selfish greed, that moment resulted in a great change in how he saw Murata, his whole relationship with the man._
_After he and Yuuri fixed things and grew to what they had now, so had his relationship with the reincarnated Daikenja, and it hurt to see the pain the young one held. A part of him wished he didn’t have to choose. But he did, and he had. He chose Yuuri and he hoped this pain would one day go away._
_He had an eternity after all._ | 46bd75af7e8c43cc9105b7b0b4446537 | ['e20cbaa0e4554c25a258655f90bd0ecf'] |
Tell Me More about Narutokun
Many millennia ago, in a far off cave within a dimension of its own lived a beast with over a thousand tails, not that she’d ever took the time to count. She lived in a desolate land, no plant or animal, other than herself, lived within her world, and so, with no need for substance and no others for companionship, she slept. Heart aching for the unknown, for she knew nothing of what she didn’t have, she slept until time no longer had any meaning.
***
She awoke in pain. She unfurled herself, tails writhing destroying everything in its path. She howled, her mind and body at war with a need unknown, until finally, she pushed.
From her, came a white, gelatin-like sac. Within it, a conglomerate of chakra mingled like ten tiny little tails whipping around it, and at an angle one could see an eye, of sorts: four concentric circles with nine tomoe, three on each inner circle. Suddenly, the sac burst and nine little tailed beast, each with a different count, and she knew, from then on, that she would never be alone again. How wrong she was.
***
The Juubi was gone. Her children loved to play tricks with her, running wild, keeping themselves as a separate nine or a ten-tailed one. This time was different though. Not a long time ago a man had entered her realm. In blood, they made a contract. He would teach her new ways to fight, and she gave use of her children. But never had they all gone at once.
The power of the Juubi was something even she had difficulty with and the many tailed beast would not – could not – all it to be free. But it was gone; she had lost all sense of them and without focal point, she had no way into the other realm. It would be many more years until she does.
***
No matter how many times the young girl stood before him, Sabaku no Gaara had nothing to say. Then again, the Godaime Kazekage was never one for words.
“It’s nice to see you again Gaara-kun. Your strength has improved greatly.”
She called herself Chie. Gaara couldn’t help but think this was his minds way of keeping Chiyo-baasama alive with all she did to keep him from death. She did, after all, appear with his first dream after rebirth.
A simple nod was his only reply.
She giggled. Chie twirled about, hair flying free in the wind, her tails flying free behind her.
“You mustn’t be so glum. I’m not putting this much effort for you to let it go to waste,” her little voice called out, “Speak to me.”
Chie finally stopped moving, turning to face Gaara directly, or as directly as an eleven-year old and a sixteen-year old could only two feet apart. Gaara disliked speaking unnecessarily, especially to her, because all she seemed to want to talk about was –.
“Tell me more about Naruto-kun. I can feel him still. The chakra of he who bears the Kyuubi no Kitsune still flows through your veins.” Chie stepped closer, reaching out without touching, a mischievous smirk gracing her face. “It’s binding with yours, changing it, making you one. You’ll belong to him soon. Then again, you’ve always belonged to him haven’t you?”
***
Gaara stared out into the forces before him. The dreams he’d been having lately have become more and more vivid. It’s been difficult to tell the difference right now, so new he was to dreaming, sleeping at all, that he could figure out whether Chie was truly a figment of his imagination. Like now, seeing all these ninja, both older and younger than him ready to fight, to risk and more than likely lose their lives, he could almost feel her inside him, crying in pain. Closing his eyes, he could almost see her, tails and all, although she isn’t the same happy go lucky girl he’d slowly grown fond of.
Oh, how he wished Naruto was here, he would know what to do.
***
Naruto was the last one left. After Bee-sama fell, his protection detail increased, but somehow the whiskered boy still found his way here.
The front lines were filled with exhaustion and death. Two Kages, three Jounin, a Chuunin and a Genin were all that was left standing of the ninja alliance.
Gaara watched the statue of the beast that killed him as the last dregs of the Akatsuki tried to do the same to his best friend.
‘There’s a way,’ Chie’s voice continuously echoed through him. She has been growing stronger within him since his reunion with the last bijuu. So different then her usual self, Chie was becoming very forceful. Fighting with him, showing him techniques that he’d never use, as most need a tailed beast within him to perform. Not that it actually deterred her.
‘You know there’s a way,’ her voice continued. ‘I’ve shown you, Gaara-kun. Bring me here, let me fight. We must take back Ichibi, it’s the only way to stop the Juubi, and Shukaku is the strongest beside the Kitsune. Don’t fight it. Let it come.’
***
There were nearly a hundred hand signals for the summoning technique, and as fast as he was going, Gaara knew it wasn’t fast enough. Despite everyone’s hard work to protect him, he slipped nearly every time Naruto took a hit in his place, frustrating him and the other fighters every time he had to start again.
Finally, the most difficult technique Gaara had ever, and probably would ever, perform. The moment his hand touched ground, the battle field lit up like fireworks. They energy pulled from him felt as though Shukaku was being stolen from him once more. It took shape around him as a beast larger than the nine tails Naruto created during the Chuunin exams all those years ago.
What came out however was simply Chie. |
002d7cf7e5cd4039b543ee434bf6c176 | ['e2268b4d40624653b8c9a04793742130'] | bless my homeland forever
**Author's Note:**
> This is based firmly on the US national tours, and specifically a moment I wish would have been in the show.
>
> Also if anyone wants to talk about the feminism in the musical – and believe me, it's in there – I'd love to discuss it in the comments.
Georg walks onstage and, quite literally, cringes.
The swastika symbols are everywhere, most noticeably on four, large banners on the back wall of the stage. He'd seen them in town as he and Maria returned from their honeymoon – the last time, he realizes, they had any normalcy in their lives that wasn't controlled by the Nazis – but this, somehow, feels deliberately directed to him and his family. All right, well, he doesn't know how logical that is, but _logic_ isn't exactly winning in this moment.
But what _is_ logical is that the banners are yet another, sinking reminder that his beloved Austria is no more, and with it, so many lost opportunities.
He will never be able to give Maria everything she deserves. On their honeymoon she was introduced as the Baroness von Trapp, of course, but now she had two stressful days to experience being such in their home. With her vibrant spirit, though, she most likely would not have been happy in the role of the mistress of the house, organizing dinners and making polite social calls and leaving the children to the care of a governess; she would especially be unhappy with the last. But this is Maria, and she would have turned things upside down in that fresh, bold way of hers. But now they'll never know, will they?
And the children... oh, and here's a sickening thought: once – _if_ – they leave, how much will Gretl and Marta remember of Austria, being so young? There's an incredibly likely possibility that being raised in America (if, God willing, they get there) will quickly erase memories of the land of their birth until they grow up completely forgetting the first part of their lives, losing their accents and being unrecognizable from any other American.
He's dimly aware of his breath getting more and more constricted, and he clutches the neck of the guitar so tightly it creates painful indents in his fingers.
A gentle hand touches his arm, startling him, and he turns to see Maria. She carefully helps him twist the guitar around until it rests on his back, and then she hugs him, tightly, seemingly uncaring of the audience or the Nazi stormtroopers that are _everywhere_. "Georg," she whispers, "are you all right?"
" _No_ ," he finally manages to choke out after a minute. "Maria, I don't know that I can do this, the banners with the damn swastikas – everything I love about Austria is dying–"
"Yes, it is," she answers. "This is the reality now, as painful as it is to say. But the reality _also_ is that the children need you to do your part, _I_ need you to, so that God willing we can leave afterwards. I know it's terrible, darling, but the 'Edelweiss' song and the entire concert is part of our plan. Sing knowing the children and I love you, and pray that God will protect us as we escape. And know I've been praying, harder than I ever have before in my life. You can do this."
He will never deserve her, not in a million years. And without her, he would probably be throwing up backstage, therefore ruining their plan and his children would grow up in no-longer-Austria under the control of the Nazis. Ever since she barreled into his life, she made and still makes him better. "All right," he whispers in her hair. This is what it will take for them to escape, and he will sing for a vanished Austria, for their children, and for her, his source of strength. She pulls back from their embrace a little and kissed him, not exactly in the most gentle way, but in a _we are going to get through this_ way. After they break apart, he touches her cheek, staring desperately into her light eyes, and nods. He doesn't want her to leave, even to walk across the stage, but he reluctantly lets her go.
As she returns to the children, Georg readjusts his guitar so it's in his hands again, and silently prays, _God, please,_ please _help us_. Right now he doesn't have enough energy to focus on the details of the plan, but God does, so it's all right.
So he focuses on what he can – the fragile edelweiss flowers in the mountains; all his children around him, that day he heard them singing and finally allowed them back into his heart; the sight of Maria in her wedding dress, and knowing, deep in his bones, that he loves her and needs her and that she challenges him every day; and the fact that while Austria, the old Austria, _his_ Austria, may no longer exist, they do, by the grace of God, have a place of refuge.
His fingers find the guitar strings, and he plays. | bf113f62c96343a08ea0e3dd02c93c9c | ['e2268b4d40624653b8c9a04793742130'] | your smile like home to me, your heart familiar
**Author's Note:**
> Because my poor precious babies deserve all the happiness in the world, that's why.
>
> Edited on February 3, 2018.
_I turned the corner_
_And there you stood_
_Your smile like home to me_
_Your heart familiar_
_No use pretending, not that I could_
_I turned the corner when I met you_
\- "I Turned the Corner" from _Thoroughly Modern Millie_
Gabriel, unseen through the mist and the trees, is calling her name.
Evangeline listens, but to her horror, she doesn't have the energy to search for him any longer – if she begins, a voice whispers in her ear, she'll look forever and never find him. Does this mean she is abandoning her search? She swore she never would. But a hand is shaking her shoulder, and the mist dissolves into darkness.
When Evangeline blinked several times, an ecstatic Father Felician appeared in front of her, and she was promptly dropped back onto the ground. "Father," she said, attempting, and failing, to be pleasant, "what's going on?"
"Evangeline, my child, I have the best of news: your long-lost Gabriel is here!"
Hope, her traitorous friend these past years, raised its head for an awful moment; but, as always, she forced it back into the dark corner of her heart that had yet to collect dust or cobwebs for constant activity – and sometimes she wished it would. She had to deal with false hope every waking moment, and, as it turned out, in her dreams as well. Surely Father Felician was aware, on some level, that she didn't need anyone else to add to it. "Please, Father, not again. Now I would like to rest before–"
"Evangeline, Gabriel is truly here! He was passing on a boat in the river and stopped when he saw our camp! Listen!"
Evangeline listened with apprehension, but there were so many people shouting that for a few seconds she wasn't sure. Then, that clear baritone voice – the one she had missed so terribly, and which caused an ache in her chest and tears in her eyes – rose above the others: "I'm so happy to see you all, but is Evangeline with you–" Evangeline was on her feet in a flash and sprinted towards the river "–Evangeline Lajeunesse, or you may still know her by her maiden name Bellefontaine? Do you know where she is? If she's not with you, then I can only stay a moment–"
"Gabriel!"
Her heart started to mend, little by little.
Their eyes met for the first time in years, and she saw him saying her name, although she couldn't hear his voice for the distance. He climbed out of his longboat and she crashed into the river, and they waded hastily through the water to cling to each other. They splashed back to the bank and sank to the ground, all the while holding each other in a tight embrace. "You're here," she croaked out. "You're – this is real. I'm truly holding you, you're _here_." She hiccupped through her tears (in another time, back in the time at Grand-Pré that now felt almost like a dream, she would have been embarrassed. Now she couldn't give a fig.). "I thought I'd never see you again."
"I'm not going to leave you," Gabriel said, his voice hoarse. "I don't want to leave you ever again. I don't want to lose you again, I can't."
Evangeline kissed him, almost tackling him, and her tears flowed in earnest because this _wasn't_ a dream, she was really kissing him and she was really in his arms again and he was here.
* * *
God answered many prayers that night.
Gabriel led the way to his father's farm, where Evangeline and the rest of their Acadian group were reunited with long-lost friends and family. Louisiana was akin to Eden, as Father Felician had said (or as close as they could get), but Evangeline was in no mood to hear its praises sung at the moment.
She and Gabriel sat together in the garden, apart from the celebration.
"I prayed about finding you, you know," Gabriel confessed. He took her hand in his, his eyes traveling over the scar on her right hand, but exploring each other's scars and bruises could wait for another time. "I prayed every day since we were loaded on those godforsaken ships. But – at least we're together now."
"But why did it take _so long?_ " Evangeline's tears, again, began falling. "Do you know how many times I would believe a false trail and then not find you? Do you know how many graveyards I went into, torturing myself by thinking that you might be beneath an unmarked headstone? We should be having children by now, and instead we've been traveling beyond the Colonies to stumble upon each other. I was prepared to spend the rest of my life looking for you, but there were some days... some days my heart ached so badly I could hardly breathe for the pain of it. We shouldn't have had to do this, we should be back in Grand-Pré and..." She leaned against Gabriel's shoulder as her tears slowly splashed on his shirt. "I've missed you so _terribly_."
He raised his hand to touch her cheek, gently wiping away her tears even though he had tears of his own. "Evangeline, I'm here. I'm here and you're here, and God above I love you more than anything else. I am not going anywhere – not unless you're with me."
She kissed him again – would her tears never stop falling? – and swore once more, to herself and God, that she would never let him go. |
51ea91a7fe5c4bdf975df5e27c0a5614 | ['e22b86b2e2b644e38a336460f8e34d8f'] | “Yeah, that'll be cool. I wonder how good she is. She has CIA training… I'll bet she can kick some butt,” said Angel, taking a bite of her food.
“I'd teach you two to fight right now if I knew how to without teleporting,” said Azazel, stacking the last of the quesadillas on a plate for the others and cutting them.
Alex and Sean were exploring the mansion; they hadn't had time to during the week before Cuba. They became much more interested when they heard Charles mention a pool during the CIA tour.
So far, the most interesting things that they had found were an indoor basketball court, a gym, a sauna, a steam room, a movie theater, a rock-climbing wall, a ropes course (with a zip line), and a jungle gym. The last three things were in the same underground room. The two mutants decided that they had to tell Darwin, so they made their way to Erik's room.
They found Darwin playing on his phone and leaning against Erik's door.
“Darwin!” Sean called as he approached him, “Alex and I have been looking around the mansion. There's a freaking /sauna!/”
Darwin didn't look at excited as Sean had hoped, and said, “I can't enjoy myself in saunas.”
“Why not?” Alex asked.
“I am physically incapable of being in uncomfortable temperatures due to my mutation.”
“Well, that sucks,” said Sean.
“There's still other stuff to see, like the movie theater. Come on, we’ll show you,” Alex offered.
“Uhh…” Darwin stood up and looked at Erik's door. Erik, as if on cue, burst out and tried to make a run for the stairs. The three boys pushed him back to his bed.
“Now there's three of you? That's unfair,” the metal-bender pouted, relaxing on the bed. Alex, Sean and Darwin left the room and closed the door.
“He probably won't try and leave if he thinks we're all guarding,” said Alex, “Come on.”
“Alright,” said Darwin, pocketing his phone.
The boys then deserted the door and walked to the movie theater. Erik, though, had sensed the metal of Darwin’s phone outside. It was gone now. He smirked as he pushed himself up out of the bed and put on his helmet. He ignored the pain, wanting and needing to get out of his room. He slowly peeked out the crack of the door, making sure no one was near. He was right.
The metal-bender creeped out the door and tried to levitate the rest of the way. He was pretty tired, but this way, no one could hear him coming. He looked down the stairwell to see Angel, Raven, and Azazel eating quesadillas. /How am I going to get around them?/
Charles was nowhere in sight, but Erik knew that Raven and Azazel would force him back to bed if they saw him. /Where could I go?/ he wondered. /The gym!/ he decided at last. They wouldn't expect me to go there. Erik quickly and quietly hovered over Azazel, Angel, and Raven, escaping their notice. He landed and quickly descended the stairs, then made a few turns to get to the gym.
Once he arrived, Erik looked around. It was a basketball court. In the corner there were weights and a couple different exercise machines. Erik had never seen any of the machines before, so he started experimenting with them.
After discussing what the new uniforms would look like, Hank and Charles parted ways. Hank went to check on Erik, and Charles set off in search of the two CIA agents.
Hank, after discovering that Darwin had deserted his post, rushed inside to find an empty bed.
/Charles?/ he asked telepathically.
/Yes, Hank?/
/Erik’s not in his room. Can you sense him or is he wearing the helmet?/
/The latter. I'll ask the agents if they’ve seen him. I think they're heading towards the gym to get ready for fighting lessons. You ask the others./
Charles turned the corner and saw the agents walking down the hall to the gym. He ran to catch up with them.
“Hello,” he said, smiling. “Have either of you seen Erik?”
Moira shook her head.
“No,” Ferrell replied. “He's the table one, right?”
“Yes. He's being difficult. He won't stay in his room and heal,” said Charles as Moira held the door to the gym.
The three of them walked in and saw Erik, who was sitting on the floor watching one of the treadmills run.
“Erik!” Charles shouted, running over to his friend. “Come on, we're going back to your room,” said Charles, turning the treadmill off, “Again.”
Charles helped Erik up. “Hank’s looking for you.”
/He’s in the gym,/ Charles sent to Hank, /I'll keep him down here for you./
Hank, who had been questioning the girls and Azazel (and eating quesadillas), hurriedly left the room.
“I have to go,” he had said, “Erik’s probably torn so many stitches…” He ran down the stairs and into the gym. He saw Moira and Ferrell dragging mats out onto the floor. Charles and Erik sat on a bench near the wall. The helmet sat on the floor and Charles appeared to be lecturing the German.
“Hank!” Erik shouted when he saw him enter, “Can I spectate the combat lessons? To make sure I don't fall behind. Charles has granted me permission if you do.”
Yes, Hank thought, leverage. “That'll depend on how well you cooperate with me later,” he said, approaching the bench duo.
“Okay, Erik. You sit here. Don't move too much,” said Charles before going over to help the agents set up. “And you have to let Hank help you later!” he called over his shoulder.
A few minutes later, when the room and the agents were ready, Charles telepathically called everyone to the gym. Everyone arrived shortly after.
Moira herded everyone except Erik into the center of the room as Ferrell introduced himself. | 9d3bc75d7a554eecb27c5c0da6567df4 | ['e22b86b2e2b644e38a336460f8e34d8f'] | “Ah.” Charles fumbled with his car keys in his coat pocket, but Erik ended up unlocking the car with his powers. Charles waited patiently as Ferrell put a seat down to let those in the back get out of the car.
Eventually, everyone had scrambled out of the van. Alex and Erik hung uneasily behind everyone as they walked over to the elevators. It was apparent that they and Azazel weren't particularly keen on going on a shopping trip.
Charles, of course, sensed this. “You know you don't have to come. You can go back to Westchester if you want. I'm sure Hank would like that, Erik.”
“No kidding,” said Moira, pushing back to where the conversation was being held. “He's been leaving me voice messages. I just noticed.”
Charles pulled out his phone. He winced when he checked his messages. “Yes, I think it would be best if you three went back to the house.”
Alex, Erik, and Azazel grabbed hands and prepared to teleport to the mansion.
“Wait!” Ferrell exclaimed, hurrying over. “If you haven't noticed, I'm pretty much a chaperone. Either Moira or I are supposed to be with you whenever possible.” Ferrell put a hand on Azazel's shoulder as he teleported away.
“Aww, man!” said Raven. The group continued to the elevators and Darwin pressed the button with enthusiasm. “I wanted to buy Erik new clothes.”
“Raven, you can still buy Erik clothes. You are a shapeshifter,” said Charles, walking with everyone else into the elevator. Raven’s face immediately lit up.
Azazel had teleported the group into the kitchen, as that was where he was most familiar.
“So…” said Ferrell awkwardly, “What can we do?” The group stood in silence for a moment and Erik walked away.
“We can work on our combat skills,” Ferrell suggested. There was no argument from Azazel or Alex. “Come on, let's go find Hank.”
At the mall, Raven had led the group to Nordstrom’s, which was her favorite store. “Okay, everyone, fan out,” she announced. “We still need to make it to J-Crew and Sports Authority but--”
“And Banana Republic!” said Moira.
“And Banana Republic,” Raven added. “But we don't exactly have a time limit so take as long as you'd like.”
Angel giggled excitedly and ran off. Raven followed her. Sean and Darwin went off in another direction, and Charles and Moira were left where they stood.
“You want to shop?” Moira asked.
“Er...yes,” Charles replied. Moira grabbed his hand and led him off to a section of the store.
Back at the mansion, Ferrell, Alex, Azazel, and Hank were preparing for fighting lessons. Ferrell was bringing the blue mats back out as everyone else watched. The mats were heavy, and Ferrell’s arms were getting tired. No one seemed to notice.
Eventually, Ferrell decided he'd only take out a few as he only had three people to train.
“What do you guys want to work on? This is a good chance to get ahead of the others, if you're looking for… incentive,” Ferrell said, slamming down the last mat and brushing his hands together to get rid of invisible dust.
“Uhh…” said Alex, slowly walking onto the mat.
“What do we have to choose from?” Hank asked. Ferrell paused.
“Takedowns! That is an excellent idea, Azazel!” the agent said. “That's what we’ll be working on tomorrow with everyone.” Azazel raised his eyebrows. Alex chuckled; he liked Ian Ferrell.
In the library, Erik was growing tired of staring at his tipped black king and analyzing the battle that had taken place between himself and Charles. He decided to go down to the gym; he had heard Ferrell mention training. Erik knew he wouldn't be allowed to participate, but he’d definitely like to see how Ferrell went about teaching people to fight when Moira wasn't around. Erik trusted Ferrell to train the X-Men. Ferrell was a fighter if Erik had ever seen one. Not only was the agent tall and strong, Erik noticed that wherever Ian went, his eyes moved, clearly sizing up everyone he met for a fight and analyzing the room. Erik could recognize this because he did it as well.
Erik didn't trust Moira though, in any respect. He was looking forward to when Hank would like to test his fight simulator. He figured Hank would choose the two agents, as there was no way he'd let Erik. Erik was eager to see Moira beaten to a pulp, but figured Ferrell was too kind to go that far, even in a simulator. Erik, however, if given the chance to fight Moira, would not show such mercy.
Erik wandered down to the gym and silently opened the doors with his powers. He entered the room unnoticed and leaned against the wall near the door frame. He looked towards the mats in the middle of the room and tried not to laugh.
Alex was breathing heavily and grunting as he attempted to pull Hank by the arm over his back and onto the ground. Hank was looking bored with this arrangement; it was apparent they had been in this position for some time. Ferrell was watching and chuckling to himself.
“Adjust your grip on his arm, Alex. Move your hands further towards his wrist,” said Ferrell, taking a small step closer. Alex complied.
“Ouch!” Hank exclaimed, “You're pulling my fur! I tried to shampoo it last night and now it's catching on things!”
“Sorry, Bozo,” said Alex, but changed no aspect of what he was doing. He tried to flip Hank once again. “Ian, I cannot do this. He’s too heavy,” said Alex, clearly ready to give up.
“Alex,” Erik called from his place by the doorway, “Take out his ankle. He won't have such a firm center of gravity.”
“What?!” Alex shouted back, breathless. “Can you say that louder?”
“No he can not!” Hank interrupted. “He’s got broken ribs! He shouldn't take that much air in his lungs. Erik, you'll have to come over here.” |
679e9c18a59d43279440217d6dbe2afe | ['e23e851434e445afa5acb1e3b41fa13d'] | “And loki’s in chains because…” Valkyrie asked, curious in spite of herself.
“He hasn’t learned the lessons of Sakaar yet,” Thor said. “There was time travel involved, this Loki would still sell all of asgaurd for some recognition. And you and I for pocket change.”
Loki bristled in place but he was gagged so… That was all he could do.
“Ah,” she said.
The others that Thor had brought were quietly introducing themselves to the local Asgardians. They were a diverse group of people, all things considered and judging by their fashions well.
As a trash collector of Jakaar Valkyrie had seen a lot of styles go by. That was how that world had worked. Just outside the normal flow of time. It was why she was still alive, that and a few other factors of course. The survivors were from a very scattered backround. At least the allspeak worked on them all.
She watched them. “And they’re safe?”
“They were all loved by people who went mad with power,” Thor said. “Safe is relative.”
She exhaled, cheeks puffing out momentarily. “Alright then. Thank you, I suppose we’ll just integrate them with all the ones who came back.”
They had been lucky they hadn’t sill been in space when the snap happened or several dozen asguardians would have burned up on reentry post unsnappening.
“I’m not sure what to do about loki, though. I know he’s capable of learning and changing but…” Thor shrugged.
Loki tried to kick his ankle. He was, after all. Right Here. Thor just smiled at him.
Loki’s eyes rolled.
“Last time I saw you, you were dying heroically,” Val told him.
Loki looked dubious.
****
So what it was… Was…
Toni chewed her lip.
It was like, near dawn and she was pretty sure she knew what she was looking at.
Was it near dawn?
Did it matter?
The light was dancing in front of her, circle on circles, complex. Beautiful. Alive.
“What’s that?” asked a little voice.
“Jesus fucking Christ do you not sleep?” Toni asked, twisting so rapidly she almost fell off her perch on the table.
“I saw lights out my window,” Morgan said, looking at the lights. “And I was thirsty.”
“It’s like, ass o clock, kid, go to sleep.”
“You’re awake.” Morgan said, holding out a glass of water. “Thirsty?”
“Maybe I got up early,” Toni said but she took the glass of water.
“Daddy used to stay up late too but he never got up early. Mornings-“
“Are for suckers,” Toni finished, sipping the water. “There mint in this? Nice.”
“What’s that?” Morgan repeated, pointing at the glowing orbs.
“And ethical conundrum.”
“A what?”
“This is a person,” Toni said. “In a way. It’s… you know what? It’s late enough. Go get your mother. Or hit that button over there and yell it’s alive for me, whatever works for you.”
“I know ethical,” Morgan said slowly. “A ethical.. Bad thing?”
“No, just a situation. A question. Is this thing alive? Does it deserve to live? Does it have rights? You know what, forget your mother go tell Jennifer to wake up for me.”
“Mom said not to let you boss me around. She said you’re probably still bad with kids.”
“I’m fantastic with kids. Your mother’s mistaken,” Toni said.
************
_Ring_
_Ring_
_Ring._
Steve’s hand slapped down, missed the phone, slapped again, and on the third slap, got it.
Dragging the phone back under the covers to look at it.
“Who is it?” Peggy asked. She was leaning against the headboard reading about the eighties.
“I thought you turned that off?” Bucky said, not moving from where he was sprawled with his face in Peggy’s hip.
“I did. It turns itself back on, apparently,” Steve said. “It’s a text message?” and then he was frowning.
“What’s it say?”
“It says ‘good job you can read’,” Steve said. “Wait there’s a new one.” He frowned. “I can hear you?”
“That’s ominous,” Bucky said, no more sleepy heavy warmth in his voice. He pushed himself up and scanned the room for weapons. They had been scattered in the night. Mostly by Steve, the impatient jackass.
Beep.
“Very,” Peggy agreed, setting her book down and picking up a gun.
Bucky gave her a look of longing. How had she kept track of her sharp little revolver? He was still looking for pants.
“It’s telling me to get to the suits?” Steve said. “What suits? Oh, it says the iron man suits-“ he made a face. “Is this Ultron? No, it’s not a stupid question It’s… Why should I believe you, you’re a message on a phone. Who is this?” he glared at the phone.
“I haven’t read everything about Ultron but I understood he was deleted?” Peggy said, taking the phone. “If you can type you can call,” she told it sternly.
Bucky leaned over her shoulder as he buttoned his jeans. “I have no voice but I must scream?” he read out loud.
“Is that a reference?” Steve asked, frowning.
“We should probably tell someone,” Bucky said, still reading. “and apparently the phone thinks you’re a philistine and that was a reference. They either have a bug in this room or they’ve hacked the phone.”
‘The phone’ said the tiny black and white words on said phone. ‘I’m using the phone. Get to the suits. Need to take off the over-rides before they’re dismantled.’
“Dismantled?” Peggy asked.
“Pepper said something about loose ends and…” Steve said, gesturing.
‘Pepper’ said the phone. ‘Please. The nanites’
And the phone turned off.
Battery was dead.
“It’s been dying faster and faster,” Steve said, thumping it against his palm.
“Let’s go talk to-“
The power flickered out, then stayed out for two minutes. Bucky’s phone lit up like Christmas and then turned off.
Bucky handed Steve his pants. “Come on, let’s go see what’s going on.”
*********
“Good job Igor,” Toni said, sipping the water in the dark.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> *Fun fact, Jennifer Waters was kicked out of the avengers mansion for throwing BANGING parties. She was also dumped by a underwear model for being shallow. She’s grown since then.
>
>
>
> Anyone want to beta?
> More cookies if you've guessed some of what's happening.
**Author's Note:**
> I have so much more I can write about this little divergent world. | 58922ae8e75b4902a62b1aad0b2cbc8a | ['e23e851434e445afa5acb1e3b41fa13d'] | Kiba shrugged to show just how little he cared. "You and I, we go there. Plane leaves tonight, you me and Akumaru can be on it, have some fun hiking around looking for scrolls, bodies and maybe more lost villagers." He smiled broadly.
Tim knew they'd never admit it out loud, but there wasn't a single member of this refugee village that didn't hope that maybe, just maybe, they'd find a loved one fallen out of the sky.
And there wasn't a single JLA member than didn't hope that maybe, just maybe, they'd be as lucky this time as last time, and none of the more dangerous ones that Umino had mentioned would come through. The Kages with the chips on their shoulders, for starters. The JLA LIKED the village being leaderless and politely antisocial.
The last thing they needed was for those fifty-seven survivors to turn into fifty-seven warriors bent on.. Whatever they were bent on back home, following one very strong scary person. Slightly less bad but still dangerous was the idea that the village might split and break into civil war. Yeah it was fifty acres now, but it could turn into a hundred smoldering acres of rubble pretty quickly.
No one had forgotten Umino trashing that shopping center.
Tim nodded. "Tonight, huh?"
"Gear's been sent for you. Should be delivered today," Kiba said, idly toying with the dog tag on the long leather cord. He stuck it in his mouth and hummed, gestured that Tim should follow.
Orally fixated bastard, Tim mentally grumbled to himself. It was cool outside. As in COLD. He was actually glad when Kiba's massive dog stepped between him and the wind. The thing was the size of a cyldesdale. But it was warm.
And amazingly friendly, but that was just a sign of really good training.
_I'm not scary,_ the dog's eyes said, as it trotted along, tail wagging, tongue lolling. _I'm just big. I'm sweet. I want to lick your face. Don't pay any attention to my teeth. I'm just smiling. Rub my belly?_
Tim reached out without thinking and scratched behind it's, sorry, her ears. He had to reach UP to do it.
He'd seen the thing eat a frozen butchered sheep. He had nothing but respect for it. Besides for all he knew the fucker could climb walls too...
Kiba made a laughing noise and pulled off the jacket, tossed it around Tim's shoulders. "Too cold for you?"
Tim glared. And pulled the jacket closer. His sweat had been freezing on his skin, he just knew it.
Kiba laughed again, jumped lightly, up, onto Akumaru's back. Digging his hands into the warm coat. Akumaru backed once, happily.
The animals. Tim didn't think he'd even get over some of the animals that these people brought with them. The giant dogs, the trained insects, the snakes.
The air strip was long, and narrow. Nothing big came in or out. It looked like Kiba's gotten plane and Helicopter mixed-up again because there was a big one sitting there. Long distance copter, the sort you'd use for search and rescue.
But, more importantly, it was next to the cafeteria. No one cooked in their homes, it seemed. They cooked here, and brought food home, or ate it here. It was a strange system. Maybe it forced them to stay social.
The helicopter pilot's were eating there, with that look that seemed to imply that they were being paid to do a job and were either paid too much or too little to give a fuck about the rest. Tim knew that look.
He took a seat in the corner, away from them. Gave the jacket back (with it's slightly musky dog smell) and rubbed his hands, looking at the bruises forming on his fingertips. The balls of his feet were probably just as bad, too.
Kiba leaned over, looking at them, laughing. "We call those baby-bruises," he said, catching Tim's hand at the wrist.
Tim had to resit the urge to try to break Kiba's nose. The important word was TRY. Kiba could take his ARM off, or he could come close and a fight with Kiba meant a fight with everyone else in the village and that meant being a small greasy splotch on the soil unless you were one HELL of a fighter. Or had one HELL of a plan in place before you started the fight in the first place.
Kiba poked at the bruises, a moment. "We used to have a healer so great, she was legend," he said, soberly. "Is not good for you that she hasn't shown up yet. She might have fixed your hands on a whim or a gamble. All our medics now would tell you to visualize less frantically."
"What?"
"Frantically. You picture the energy’s' like an extension of your bones so it ruins the soft between bone and wall," Kiba rubbed his thumbs into Tim's palm. "Because you think that it takes bone to hold you up. It just takes balance and knowing all of yourself." He beamed again. "And food. You are hungry."
Tim nodded. And while kiba went to get the food, he tried, carefully, to pick up his fork with his pinky.
Alll of himself. Not just the bone. He HAD been picturing it as a glowing skeleton network. The major veins, really. Maybe he needed to mentally include the smaller veins. Branching out into lace? hooking in like a thousand bits of velcro?
Tim sighed. This was all, backup anyway. For if his zip-lines failed.
But it was strange to just find out that you could LEARN to be meta. That's what it was. VERY meta.
*******
Kiba came back with pizza. Tim didn't know who had explained pizza to the curious warriors, but their version of it had caught on. |
2e283ac9551747de8b3fd5cead1754a4 | ['e2474841d43944df88e41e3fa5f64e6c'] | Soon, it was over, The Cerberus let me down through a maintenance hatch. Sally jumped lightly down after. She caressed the heads of the great robotic beast, one at a time. I'd be touched, but I was already going for the decontamination procedures all maintenance closets have. The roentgens the Elevator puts out are skin curdling close enough, and looking at my hands, well, they were darker, but not sunburned. The door closed and foam poured out on the both of us. It tastes nasty but I let it get everywhere. I peeled off my clothes and scrubbed the anti-radiation poisoning cream everywhere.
Sally looked amused. I got snappy. "Lather it on, girl, you can claim you want to be human again, but it'll be a short life with cancer!" She shrugged and cast off her over coat. I was busy scrubbing my calves down with the cream, but I still saw a shapely shoulder and pinched waist. Her coats and posture hinted at it. Her skirt had retracted to something more like a bikini, and she then spent a long time applying the lotion to her exposed areas.
When taking off her boots, she revealed her feet were in the middle of transforming into the silicate matter that makes up most of the Silicon Soul cult. While the soles were turning into something that could be shapely, angular and sharp. The tops were still flesh, pale and dead. Wires went up and down into the ankles. There was a strange, hard foam at all the places that flesh and silicon met.
"Enjoying the show?"
I decided to go cocky. "There's a lot to enjoy."
She laughed and went back to business. I nailed it. Not sexually. I put my clothes through the dryer. She started to laugh. It was creepy as hell. We got our clothes back on after a wash and walked out back to my office. She made jokes and giggled the entire way. She even grabbed my elbow and hung onto it.
Eventually, she went back to her usual sullenness, which I considered a pity.
4. Tubal Cain and his Amazing Creations
Tubal Cain was a hard man to get a hold of. Besides the Biblical name, and apparently, being too dang important to visit a lowly gumshoe, he had no definite place of residence. He was in charge of the Space Elevator's connection to the ground and the power systems and vent systems and a thousand other systems set down five hundred years ago yet are still in perfect condition today. He was followed around by a group of fifty people, mostly administrators and engineers, who managed the paper work and the dirty work.
He was a mad boy. Mad Scientist. While he was nicer than, say, Barbados Slim, who turned boys into cyborgs on a whim, he was still capable of great feats. I heard he had a giant protecting him. I heard that he can absorb information from holograms into his brain directly. I heard he walks on water. That last one is facetious.
These moved in what I'll call a 'King's court' all over the damn map. I'd discover him in Spine 8 Base but he'd have moved to Spine 17 G before I could get there. There was no pattern, no way to find out what influenced his decision. So I decided to do a couple things. First, I figured out the sequence of maintenance for those aligned with Tubal Cain. Then, I bribed them and got them to give me a certain person's number. This person called another person. I bribed them up and down with favors and alcohol until finally I had a conversation with the man himself. Numbers of course, are relative. I was on videophone.
"Ah, Champ. You did good work for me in the Samarkand Spice case." His voice is strong, but with a tremor like a breeze. He's narrow headed with a tricorn hat and a strong chin. I was very jealous of the hat. "I trust you enjoyed the chili from that sample I gave you?"
That threw me off. The Samarkand case was something dumped on my lap thanks to some inept middle manager. Samarkand spice is grown in the zero-G environment of the asteroid of the same name. It's intense, some kinda cross between Chili Flakes, Paprika and Garlic. Sweet and spicy, but lasting. Really really nice smell. I got a small amount for finding a missing crate of it and that chili. Man.
I, of course, didn't take more than a second. "It was the bee's knees. I always figured it was higher than Mr. Genghis. Never figured it was you high." I got back on track. That sounded terrible. I'm so good at the fisticuffs but those grammatical social skills. "I'm working on a case for one Sally-"
"Transforming into a Silicon Soul? What is her modification?"
"Yessir, a giant tentacle out the back." The video phone was silent. "Barbados Slim is on earth."
There was a spluttering sound. I never knew what a spit take sounded like before. "What! When?" The voice was fairly urgent and not at all as calm as it was previously.
"A week and a day, sir. The Pleiades helped him in. It was on the Silver's Caravan Ship."
"Of course of course. I didn't think he would come back. It was part of the deal, you know. He would leave and never come back. Damn! If Silicon Soul..." He went silent. "I'm sending Innocence to assist. She will have information for you. Did you track him down?"
"I tracked him to the Henderson Nanite factory through the local Labyrinth. Killed a Miss Spider, which is documented. Where should we meet? " | 4dbd907c8d5c43f789efed7c724a14bb | ['e2474841d43944df88e41e3fa5f64e6c'] | I was about to say something, when Ugly burst in. Now, I expected to see Ugly. This is his gang and I got the feeling he was trying to earn gangsta cred by trying to beat the tar out of me earlier. Eddie looked at him with dull surprise. Eddie didn't look any other way, lets not kid ourselves. "You! I heard you were here!"
Eddie put a stern look into his eyes. "Leave. This doesn't concern you." Ugly didn't get the message. Not that I'm surprised, he shook off that stun to the face. Thick skull. I'm calling him dumb.
Ugly ignored him. "You're working for the bulls. I knew it!" Eddie got quiet. Guys like him look all nice and normal, but the calmer the ocean, deeper the currents, when it comes to civilized men. I pulled out my stun gun and shot Ugly in the testicles. He screamed and went down. I grabbed Sally and jumped over Ugly's twitching form.
Outside was a group of Ugly's buff friends. They were obviously work out bros. Some didn't wear shirts, demonstrating quite shapely abs and pectorals. Being a work out buff myself, you see, I can appreciate a good craftsman. They had just gotten over the shock of seeing Ugly shot in the testicles and were starting to think about revenge.
With an articulate cry about my mother, Blondie jumped at me. I fired my stun gun at his face, while another, CyberThug, went for Sally. I started firing at the people in front of me, trusting her to handle herself. And she did, very well. CyberThug's five hundred pound body went flying after she ducked a blow and landed a punch to the chest. A little effort, and she tossed the big man away. Her head-tail thing helped, acting as a third arm. Some thug attempted to backstab her and the arm crushed the knife hand in its metal grip.
Now as for me, things had gotten close. Some fellas, especially the more augmented times, don't mind seeing the whites in an opponent's eyes before opening fire with their gun. I do. See, it's manly and stylish as hell, but in this kinda brawl, where I'm not trying to kill anybody, I might wind up killing somebody. Defeats the purpose. I put the gun away and let fly a fist into a tall chap I'm calling Legs. Legs clutched a broken nose and tried to kick me. I dodged back and then forward after the blow passed. I caught him in the chest and he tripped over a fallen comrade, braining himself on a stack of crates. He'd be alright, he tried to get up and my fist kept him down.
Now the enemies were looking sparse but now Sally and me were back to back. I've been in tighter positions. I once ripped the spine of a crazed robotic sushi chef in Amaterasu-Tokyo once. Tried to turn me into sashimi I turned him into... ah. dang. I'll come back to this later. Her fists didn't really do much damage, like my meaty cinder blocks, but she could send an opponent flying with a shove or a judo throw. The head-tentacle would flail like a whip, and toss fools by grabbing at their heals, but I noted that she had to plant herself firmly before she could do it.
I gave a one-two to the face of the nearby gangster, Four-arm. He grasped at my wrists with his two extra chrome-arm, and tried to toss me. I lowered my center of gravity, and pulled opposite him. The tentacle behind me smashed Four-arm in the face, dropping him without some nostrils. I called back as the gangsters stepped back. There were too many infront of the various exits. "Got any tricks up your sleeves?"
"Yes." I heard the high-pitched buzz of electronic communication. A second passed and a very large thing crashed down in front of Sally. It had the large body of an ape. It had 3 dog heads. It had a thick, long tail like a snake, with a laser focus crystal at its tip. Each great arm ended with long, bulky fingers, steelworking bot fingers. The tail lashed out and a laser beam began to punch into the chests of the combatants. Sally jumped up onto the shoulders of the cerberus-chimera. I tried to run through a gap, but it turned and grabbed me. I started yelling and beating at the hands, but it jumped into a series of girders and underpinnings. It jumped through a gap I can only assumed it ripped through the steel with the mechanical monster hands. It jumped into the between places of the city.
With Sally balancing on its shoulder, it ducked and weaved between nameless places where no human goes. The between places are ill-lit and horrible. Much of them have no amenities for human habitation. You can see the energies that flash through the Space Elevator. I was getting a tan just by being there. The walls of the human places are proofed against them. I was turned towards it as the Cerberus jumped through a narrow passage, at speeds that would kill me if I clipped a wall. I saw the forces, which dissipate into a haze once you're far enough, going up and down. Colors flowed like a waterfall, while lightning shot up and down like elevators or trains. I saw black spots in places that had colors I could not see, and so my mind blanked it out. I saw, at the side, a giant caravan ship covered in sheet lightning brighter than the sun. It sank slowly down, inch a minute, and the shielded dock workers below, waiting for the immeasurable weight to be gently placed on the pads below, each the size of a sports field, your choice. I turned away, but I could still see it as I closed my eyes. |
33b3b2d1eb8a4985a06e1bca475816d6 | ['e25e6e9d647a4b86b8188730098f490d'] |
What ties between us
**Author's Note:**
> MasaHaru fluff comin right up!
Petals swirled around in circles by the chilling air, floating downwards in every direction as Haruka aimlessly eyed at the sea of cherry trees from where she sat; seiza style on the wooden flooring. It was slightly wet with minuscule drips of rain that had made its way inside the cracks of the aged veranda of the 10 year old inn, even though the owners tried to preserve it as best as they can. Despite its condition, the wooden veranda gave her protection from the ever growing downpour outside, also providing a perfect view of the ethereal forest of pale pink disappearing under harsh drops of water battling them to the ground.
It is impossible for anyone to not feel a sense of melancholy watching petals fall; so did Haruka. Accompanied by said melancholy there was also a sense of gripping disappointment creeping upwards from her spine to her stomach as she recalled Masato’s soft smile when she suggested the trip to him on a Thursday night. It was supposed to be a trip worth looking forward to. However, despite how depressing this may sound; God is always readily intent on making things astray their original expectations.
Like this sudden downpour to be exact.
Feeling her ankles aching under the pressure of her hips, Haruka raised the hem of her yukata to curl her legs, hugging them close to her chest. What she really wanted to do was to let Masato have fun. But one look at the weather was enough to convince her that they aren’t going to go outdoors without getting drenched today.
It was actually not a pretty big deal for Haruka to stay indoors; but she wished she could do more than just that during what little time they could stay together without work by experiencing things together in different places during those times.
“So you’re here.”
A familiar voice – warm as chocolate resonated behind her like the voice a piano would make when the pedal was on. Haruka swiped her hair backwards as she heard it and she smiled subconsciously towards Masato, who found a spot to sit beside her. “I was looking for you but I couldn’t find you inside.”
“Eh?” Haruka blinked her eyes twice, and then it dawned on her. “Ah…! Masato-kun- I forgot we were supposed to prepare dinner in the kitchen….”
“It’s okay” Masato merely smiled. “I was about to tell you that I’ve prepared dinner and it’s still simmering.” He placed a hand on hers, tracing the fingers on her lap as if to reassure her from her own thoughts. “You don’t really have to worry about it. I’ve got this.”
“But…” Haruka trailed off, and sighed. “Alright. But please remember to rest okay? You can let me do the dishes afterwards.”
Masato pursed his lips in slight disapproval. “We can do it together so we get to rest early. I can’t have you straining your hands on dishes.” A pause. “If I’d had my way with them, they wouldn’t be supposed to do anything other than staying in their place as usual. I wouldn’t want to hurt them with chores.”
“You’re teasing me.” Haruka shyly turned towards the other end of the veranda, the wind blowing her hair the other way, avoiding eye contact with her boyfriend. She heard a slight chuckle behind her before she felt herself being wrapped by arms that weren’t her own. Haruka didn’t object – she always liked the sensation of his hands, warm and protective whenever in reach. If she was allowed to, she would had remained relaxed and calm and in peace from all her worries and stress in life.
“You aren’t feeling okay aren’t you?” His voice smoothed through the crevice of her ear, his breath making her shiver against the cold wind with the warmth puffing on her cheek. “If there’s something bothering you, you can tell me about it.” He paused, and then hesitantly pulling back before continuing to say. “If it makes you feel better.”
Haruka contemplated his words quietly. The rain sounded so much louder than before.
Finally she nodded her head. “I do feel bad actually…. Ne, Hijirikawa-san, I’m sorry for this trip. You even made time for us to come see the cherry blossoms but…”
She didn’t continue her sentence, and Masato didn’t say anything either, save for the light breathing on her head – converting his silence into a form of comfort for her that threatened tears to her eyes. _This is enough._
Haruka closed her eyes fervently. She felt soft delicate fingers combing, threading through her hair soothingly. The rain was still coming down from the grey skies, but the frantic beatings of raindrops against ground had diminished into the backdrop; all she could hear was the steady beat of his heart close to hers.
After what felt like a long time, Masato stopped his motions and sighed, a purr-like sound emanating from his throat. Momentarily puzzled, Haruka raised her head to look into his eyes which were already there, looking fondly at her. Smiling gently, Masato closed in and kissed Haruka gently, just above her forehead and cupped her cheeks with his hands as she blushed hotly.
“You don’t have to apologize for this.” He insisted, his right hand testing the mound of flesh of Haruka’s cheek hesitantly as he continued on. “I don’t feel bored or anything. What really matters most is actually” Masato pulled Haruka back to her original place on his chest and his heartbeat returned to her ears. “-I’d get to enjoy this day with you. And we’d get to do something memorable together. If there’s anything I would say to you, it’s that I thank you, and I really love you. ” | d6ad0620e6094246b62a3e091959a49b | ['e25e6e9d647a4b86b8188730098f490d'] |
Alone time
**Author's Note:**
> This is sudden, but I was inspired by myself to write masaharu content and my brain kept bugging me so I relented even though i originally didn't want to because my writing is crap. However, this time i did not screw up so this is a miracle!
>
> This is fluff, btw. Very short but i hope its satisfying!
It was spring.
Fresh air tainted cool by the dying winter cold filtered the room as Haruka opened the floor-to-ceiling-windows, or simply put, french windows by the sunlit corner of their room. She could feel the light wind, a breeze ghosting over her skin, inches of heat creeping down to warm her cold fingers. It had just rained last night, and even though she had tried to huddle close to Masato as desperately as she could for body warmth the cold still lingered on uncaught areas that aren't fortunate enough to be covered by either blankets or Masato’s arm.
Padding closer to sunlight still barefooted, Haruka stretched her fingers onto the balcony, arms resting on the ornate railing. From above she can see the view of the garden below, as magnificent as its usual glory restored with the gift of spring. The empty branches are starting to grow leaves while new green shoots started to crawl upwards from the thin grass, still dampened by the morning dew, or was that the gardener's work? Distinctly, the clear sound of piano keys echoing passionately in the air, a melody she knew all too well from her own wedding.
_I swear._
Haruka grinned. She knows who exactly is her mysterious pianist, and where he’s at.
Eagerly, she dashed out of her room, not even bothering to close both door and windows. Light shone brightly on her eyes as she reached outdoors, causing her to squeeze her eyes shut a bit before they adjust. She kept walking into the garden, finally seeing a pavilion similar to the one back at Saotome academy and surely enough, she can hear her music much clearer than before accompanied with a baritone voice, not too deep, but deep enough for her to recognise his chocolate warm tone.
“Masato?” Haruka called out, eyes fixated on her husband’s posture on the leather piano seat, and trying hard to control her urge not to comment on the way his hair seemed to shimmer slightly with dewdrops under the shades. Must've got them while passing the vegetation on the way here.
“Ah, you're awake. Did I disturb you?” Masato smiled apologetically before pulling his seat backwards to face Haruka. “You could had slept more.”
“I didn't want to miss out your private performance.”
“You know you can always call me to play the piano whenever you want, my wife.” Masato playfully replied, and being took aback by the sudden way of addressing, Haruka blushed slightly, red cheeks open for him to see. “Masato!”
“Yes?” There was a boyish glint in his eyes, and Haruka pouted in return.
“I think you've learned from Ren.”
“Mhm mhm, as you say, Haruka.” Masato paused, and not missing a beat. “My love.”
“I wonder how far this can go” Haruka smirked. “My husband.”
“My angel.”
“My prince.”
“Darling.”
“Sweetheart.”
“Beloved.”
“My melon pan.”
Masato laughed while Haruka followed suit, taking a place on the piano seat beside Masato. “I did not expect that.”
“What did you expect?” Haruka asked in curiosity.
“Something on the verges of sunshine or stars.”
“That sounds more like what you would say though.” Haruka chirped, and Masato tousled her hair lightly in response, chuckling lightly. His hand is big and warm, and unsurprisingly soft, but Haruka knows and remembered the small, hard edges on the sides of his skin of his fingers that marked him as a hardworking idol who repeatedly used his hands. Hands that made music glow and voice that warms hearts.
“....I love it when you play the piano.” Haruka said softly, her fingers now threading in his, etching through every small crevice, tiny details of his hand and leaned herself on his shoulder. “You are beautiful when you play.”
Masato’s left hand was now on her waist. “I think I love it more when you are being yourself, and when we're alone, like this.” He kissed her forehead lightly, looking tenderly at the same spot for some time before pulling away. “I would not be exaggerating if I'd say I would never want to leave you anywhere, anytime. You are beautiful, Haruka. I love you so much, too much.” His hand now holding her waist tighter, he fought the desperate urge to hold her closer, more closer to him. He tried to fight back the furious waves of emotion, respect, love and adoration towards this woman who was his buoyance in the raging sea knowing that he will very well lose himself to the tide. Masato is, after all, a man controlled by his emotions if they surpassed logical thoughts.
Haruka did not know since when Masato had leaned inwards, his face nuzzling her cheek and his chest against her back. She simply enjoyed, and loved the way he felt close to her. As her fingers finally brushed on his ring finger adorning the ring which held their oaths to each other she resisted the urge to repeat their vows by replaying them in her head over and over again. _To be true to each other in good times and in bad, for better, for worse. For richer, for poorer. In sickness and in health. Till death do us part._
_And if there were another chance we would find either one of us in our next life to repeat everything again without regrets._
As if having the same thought, Masato smiled gently at Haruka, his finger finding her ring. “I remember our vows clearly whenever I see this... I love you, Haruka. I am so glad I'd married you. I'm so glad you are my wife. I'm so glad you are by my side and I would never want to let you go. I love you.”
Masato held her chin, and tilted it upwards to face his; his face drawing closer and closer and his eyes fluttering shut. Or that was her own eyes fading dark.
Finally, after hovering on anxiety and crashing hesitation, their lips melded with each other, his brushing over hers in an affectionate kiss as they embraced. Riptides of emotions had blown over the shores of rationalism but they didn't cared; time was there for them to express their love for each other without boundaries, without limitations.
As their mouths parted and met again and again; they could only feel the fire of their feelings for each other crackling in the depths, burning, devouring them into passionate embers and sparks. Unconditionally accepting the best and the worst of each other was what echoed in their hearts repeatedly as their souls seemed to entwine.
Everything in the world has their unique, but definite ways. Like how cold, harsh winter would gradually turn to spring. Like how a melody would sound entirely different depending on the composer and the performer. Like the way an idol before the scenes would fall madly in love with a composer behind the acts; Masato and Haruka.
**Author's Note:**
> Thank you for reading! Hope you did enjoy! |
000dee8ac3ef4f8598d01e54e116091e | ['e269d04fc6a9463ba2c86089e4c1ce5d'] | "Where did you get that?" I asked, taking his chin and lifting his face up to the light of the lantern.
He tried to resist, but right now I was stronger than him. "Where did you cut your cheek?" I repeated the question more loudly, so he finally heard me.
Twisting his face, he stopped trying, "Fell on the glass." He let out a sigh.
"What glass?"
"On the window glass. What is the difference?" He threw angrily.
"If I'm asking, then to me THERE IS a difference." I raised my tone, and the man sitting on the bench looked at us questioningly.
"I don't have to explain myself to you." Louis stubbornly hissed when I let go of his chin.
"Yeah, you don't have to. And frankly, I don't give a shit where you were and what you were doing. Just carry your fucking phone with you, okay? And don't cause me problems." I snapped.
I'm not proud of the fact that I fought him. It's never caused me the expected relief. Only guilt and regret, the desire to take it back.
He just folded his arms on his chest and turned away from me like a resentful teenager.
_My God_ , I thought, uttering a long, drawn-out sigh. The bus appeared in the distance, winking headlights.
Waiting until it reached us, silently, we climbed inside. Louis took a seat closer to the window, I sat next to him. Our shoulders lightly touched, but he avoided any eye contact with me, staring out the window.
I looked at his cheek. In darker lighting his blood seemed to be black resin. The scratch was pretty deep, and of course it wasn't disinfected.
His face alternately changed shades as we passed lights or bright signs. Dark hair was ruffled, like if he was a newborn chick. For me he was like a child. We even fought the same way, but our relationship is difficult to be called childish. I don't remember when we crossed that line and it all went downhill. When I first met Louis, I didn't see him as bad or something like that, I still don't.
Back then I carefully examined his features askance, afraid to meet his eyes. He was a normal teenager like me and he was supposed to be my step brother. Now, I'm not sure of anything. Who am I for him, and he for me? Brother? Only on the documents, we have no blood connection. Friend? But unless this is how friends behave? Lover? No. Although, there were moments when we seemed to be all three ways together.
The entire trip he never said a word. I didn't know which was harder to bear: our arguments, or the complete, never-ending silence between us.
After what seemed like an eternity we finally reached our apartment. I opened the door with my key, letting Louis walk inside.
Right in the shoes, he rushed to the kitchen, leaving a trail of muddy steps. I shook my head in a manner of disappointed, but too tired to say anything mother. Traces of dirt on the linoleum shone under the bulb light.
Throwing off my boots, I followed him. He was standing near the sink, drinking water from a glass, transparent drops trickled down his chin, falling on the clothes.
“We need to disinfect your wound." I state in a calm tone, pulling out trom the kitchen cabinet First-Aid kit.
Finishing his water, he puts the glass down on the table pointedly loudly.
"I don't want to do that." He crosses his arms, waiting for my reaction. I'm so tired that I don't have the energy to argue with him. I take cotton wool and wet it with some disinfectant.
"Give me thy cheek." I say to him. He shakes his head, stepping back. "Louis," I say in a pleading tone, "Please, stop fighting with me. I am very tired. Let's just get this over with."
I deeply hope that he will agree, but this isn't happening. What a pity.
"Then go sleep, and don't do shit! I'm fine without it!" He throws up his hands.
Losing patience, I carefully approach him, and grab him by the collar with my free hand, pressing his whole body against the cupboard. Quiet moan of pain escapes him.
I'm not saying a word, only looking into his eyes, clutching him tightly. His face expresses fear, something that I don't see often.
Reassured, I let go of his wrist, but don't move, placing my hand on his hot neck.
"What are you doing?" He whispers, trying to give his voice the confidence from before, but he didn't do a pretty good job out of it.
"Cleaning your wound." The tiredness was back now, and I was calm again.
He keeps his eyes on me, but I'm only busy with his wound. With every touch on his skin, he winces slightly, pursing his lips into a thin line.
Suddenly his cold hand wraps around my wrist. He does nothing more, just holds me.
Briefly I meet his eyes, and find them to be... Warm.
“I'm sorry.” He says quietly. His voice suddenly became hoarse.
I sigh heavily, “I know, Louis.”
Somewhere deep down I knew. I was hoping that all this is just a side effect of the drugs he takes, and he's actually different.
Cotton wool in my fingers was soaked with red blood, when I finally finished. Bandaging his cheek, I weakly smiled at him.
"Let's go to sleep."
*
4. Chapter 4
Chapter 4.
*
_**Harry's POV** _
"Are you done?" Galen was tired. He didn't like the fact that "some shots" take some much of my time. But you don't explain all the details of photography to the sculptor, it just doesn't make sense.
I shrugged him off, trying to keep the camera steady.
"You wanted to go with me yourself." I say, not looking up from the lens.
"Yes, I was bored." | 4692cdc4880e44d88eb26c528195849a | ['e269d04fc6a9463ba2c86089e4c1ce5d'] | Zayn opened the door for me, helping me to get out.
“This place looks awesome...” I said in awe. It really does look awesome. Brick four-storey building, with large windows, the edges of which were decorated with white lilies, illuminated by small bulbs as if the flowers themselves were glowing.
Though the window glass you can see people enjoying their dinner.
“Everything for my Queen.” Zayn chuckled as I poked him in the side.
We went inside, immediately sinking into the atmosphere of magic and comfort at the same time.
"Zayn..." I held onto the sleeve of his jacket, looking around. The hall was simply enormous. There were round tables everywhere, with people in all kinds of suits and dresses sitting behind them. On each table stood a candle and a bouquet of lilies. Lilies were everywhere, even hanging on the walls and from the ceiling.
“Let's go, Ashton and Luke already waiting for us.” Zayn said and I nodded, walking down the hall hand in hand with him.
We approached the table with two young men sitting on it. One of them had long brown hair, but shorter than mine. The other was a cute blond with a pierced lip. Both of them looked handsome.
“Hi, guys.” Zayn said, walking over to hug each of them. Then he pushed back my chair slightly, letting me sit down.
“Guys, it's Harry, my boyfriend. Harry, it's Luke and Ashton, I share the studio with them.” He introduced us. I smiled at them, “It's nice to meet you guys.” I said.
“Same here. Zayn talks a lot about you.” Ashton said, smiling at me.
“Like, all the time.” Luke adds.
*
All evening we sat and talked. Food, like everything else in this restaurant, was just great. Everything was going perfect, but at the end of the evening I felt bad.
It wasn't the urge to vomit, it was a gnawing, cutting pain in the abdomen. It started so strongly and suddenly, I had to grab Zayn's hand, not to bend from the pain.
“Hey, Harry, you okay?” Luke asked, first to see my weird position.
“Yes... I think s- No! No, I'm not...” I tried to play it cool, until it became unbearable.
Zayn grabbed my arm, helping me to stand up.
“We need to get you to the hospital, come on...” He said.
“What's wrong? Can we help?” Ashton stood up, coming over to us.
“No, he's just... It's something with the baby.” Zayn said, leading me to the exit.
“We'll pay for everything, be careful out there!” Ashton yelled to us before we left the building.
“What's happening?” Zayn asked me once we were in the car.
“I dunno... But it fucking hurts and I'm scared...” I moaned quietly.
He immediately started the engine, quickly driving away.
***
13. Chapter 13
*
Chapter 13
*
I woke up the next morning in hospital bed.
Last day was a little blurry to me. I remember that we went to the restaurant, and then I felt bad, so Zayn brought me here.
My head was buzzing, I had a back pain as well. I looked around the room, in search of a bottle of water, but nothing like that could be found in here.
I threw off the covers, carefully standing up. I was wearing hospital pyjamas, which was a bit big and weird for me.
Stepping on the cold as ice floor, I reached the bathroom, turning on the water and washing my face.
“What are you doing? You should stay in bed.” Zayn's voice made me flinch from suddenness.
“Maybe I would have done that if there was at least a drop of drinking water anywhere." I said.
Zayn sighed, taking my hand, “Come on, you need to sit down.” He tried to pull me out of the room, but I resisted.
“I'm not an invalid, Zayn. What's wrong? Explain it to me." I demanded, looking at him. Something was up, I could tell by his eyes.
He sighed, biting his lip. “Do you remember what happened yesterday?” He asked.
I nodded, “Yeah, we went to celebrate your birthday, and then I got sick.” I told him.
“You don't remember what happened in the hospital?” He asked and I shook my head no.
“Zayn. Just tell me. Please.”I asked quietly.
“You were bleeding. Something went wrong with the baby." Zayn said and my heart sank.
“But... What is that suppose to mean?..” I barely spoke, feeling physically sick. I placed my hand on my stomach, as if someone was going to take it away from me.
“Nothing yet, but the doctor said that it's not a very good sign. Something went wrong during pregnancy, and if it happens again... They said you'd have to stay in the hospital." He said quietly. I started shaking my head repeatedly, brushing that thought away. I felt lamp stuck in my throat, my knees were weak.
Seeing my reaction, Zayn took a step closer to me, wrapping his arms around me safely.
I buried my face in the crook of his neck, hot tears were rolling down my cheeks, burning my skin. Zayn was caressing my back gently, trying to calm me down, but it didn't work very well.
“Everything is going to be alright... It's not a sentence, you hear me? Still gonna be okay...." He whispered into my hair. I shook my head slightly, unable to speak properly.
“N-no, Zayn... I w-was bleeding... What if... What if it means that he's gonna d-die?...” I sobbed.
“Don't say that. He's gonna be alright. Both of you, okay? You'll be fine.”
I nodded slowly, though I highly doubted it.
*
In the next few months I had to visit the hospital more often. Everything just turned upside down, our tranquil life turned into one big appointment with a doctor.
Zayn wouldn't leave me even for a minute. He had to quit work in the studio, to be able to be with me. |
b289eb2ede3048589369f6d0b53ff19f | ['e26bb98b761c4b0a965d5b9d8af8e77b'] |
1. saved from the depths of fuckboyness
**Author's Note:**
> single dadniel pt 1 hello loves
Daniel thinks in another life, he’d be a basic college frat boy- drinking, screwing everyone willing, and being a vague asshole. He’s thankful that he is not, and that he saved from the dark depths of fuckboyness via the best thing about his life- his nephew. The son of his half-brother.
That’s only relevant for the difference in their last names, and the fact that Daniel was raised bilingual. They eventually found themselves living together once Hoorim graduated from college and began working for Daniel’s father. They connected on He worked diligently for 4 years, married his college sweetheart, and they even had a child.
Daniel was watching Woojin one night when his parents were going to a formal dinner, and they never made it back home.
Daniel’s parents and Hoorim’s father were all aging, busy corporate leaders. A 4-month-old child had no place in their lives except occasional family visits. So, Lee Woojin was put under the care of Kang Daniel, his 20-year-old uncle who had barely gone through his first semester of college. He dropped out to be a full-time parent, with financial support from 3 sufficient sources, of which he is forever grateful to receive.
Daniel took it all in stride, because he never wanted Lee Woojin to feel unloved.
~~
Rose Petal Café.
Daniel had been frequenting this café ever since he was a sophomore in college, even before Woojin was born. He knew a few of the employees by name and the owner, a man named Seongwoo, always came to say hello when he came in. However, once Woojin came around, he began coming in less.
In fact, before he came back to the cafe at this point, he hadn’t been in for almost a year and a half. He might’ve came in once out of extreme exhaustion after dropping Woojin off at daycare, but he only used daycare when its was really necessary. He mostly did father-son camps until recently, when he figured it was time for Woojin to go to preschool. He’s four now, and a bright, cheery kid, eager to learn with a clear voice. Jisung, one of Daniel’s best friends has a theory he’ll become a singer because his voice is nice and loud (a blessing and a curse- Daniel sure as hell woke up when he cried).
Daniel would love it if he could become a singer. Maybe he’ll be in a band, or learn to dance and become the main vocal in an idol group.
Daniel looks at Woojin’s face so often, just wondering what he’ll look like when he’s 15, or 30, or when he’s married himself. Daniel just wonders what his favorite color will be, and if he likes coffee or not, and how good he’ll be at sports.
Upon voicing his musings to Jisung and Jinwoo while Woojin was sleeping, they almost cried.
“Wow, shit,” Jinwoo had said, petting Jisung’s hair once he legitimately began crying, “Danny became a real dad.” His hyungs are weird, but they mean well. (That doesn’t mean he trusts any of them to watch Woojin for any length of time over 10 minutes.)
Daniel digresses. When he walked in before, he knew none of the staff then, so he didn’t leave with the sense of community he grew to love.
He now has free time on his hands for the first time in legitimately 3 years, so he has no clue what to do with himself.
He finds himself on the familiar path to the grocery store, because he’s pretty sure Woojin’s first day of preschool is worth celebration with a pack of gummies. He’s in the sadly familiar candy aisle when he notices a familiar face, the mouth hanging open per usual in a toothy smile, reaching towards a heart-shaped pack of chocolates in bright red foil.
“Donghyun?” Daniel calls, scrunching his eyebrows. Donghyun looks at him and his smile takes on full form. Daniel forgot how blinding his smile was. Wow, he’s still a ray of sunshine.
Donghyun was a high schooler who worked at Rose Petal. He was one of the employees he was closest with since he talked all the damn time. He was kind, though, and effortlessly handsome, with bright eyes and an everpresent large, toothy smile. He was the kind of guy who you wanted to be pissed at because he was so perfect, but you couldn’t.
“Daniel-hyung!” Donghyun replies, running towards him and crushing him into a huge hug. “It’s so good to see you! Where have you been?”
“I’ve been super busy,” Daniel breathes out once he is released from the smothering.
“Oh, with college, right?” Donghyun says.
“Actually, no,” Daniel sighs. The conversation always comes back to this. “I’m now my nephew’s guardian. I’m a full-time dad.” Donghyun gasps rather dramatically.
“Oh my gosh! Children! I love kids! How old is he? What’s his name? Can I meet him?”
“He’s 5 years old, just starting preschool. His name is Lee Woojin. If you want, we can get together for dinner or something. He’s rather shy, but he’s super sweet.” Donghyun nods vigorously through the whole damn speech.
“I understand the whole shy but sweet thing, my boyfriend is like that too!” Boyfriend.
He didn’t even blink as he said it.
Daniel is jealous; he wishes he could talk about being gay without having to pause and stutter before saying something so simple as ‘he’ or ‘attracted’. But here is Kim Donghyun, gay boy extraordinaire apparent. Daniel wishes he could have this. What is he thinking? He’s too busy to have a boyfriend. Who would date a 24-year-old with a child? | 16888621541f4f07847d421350111fae | ['e26bb98b761c4b0a965d5b9d8af8e77b'] | _Hey, I’m Taeyong, the leader of NCT._
_Hello, I’m Jaehyun._
_Hey, I’m Hansol from Busan._
_Hey, I’m Johnny from Chicago._
Donghyuck knows that Jaemin is a huge fan of Hansol in particular. He has a sticker of Hansol’s face on his locker in the laboratory. All the other researchers find it endearing.
Donghyuck thinks Mark and Taeyong are pretty attractive, but he doesn’t like to think too much about it, since he doesn’t know his soulmate.
Yuta goes first in talking about his soulmate.
_So, I’m a carrier, and it’s what brought me to Korea. The writing on my wrist was Korean, so I went to Korea to find them since I knew I would have to. I came and found my soulmate, which is actually Hansol hyung!_
The interviewer cooes. The other members coo, even though they definitely knew this earlier. Donghyuck cooes. Jaemin most likely cooed. The whole world cooes because that’s adorable.
_Since Hansol was a trainee, I auditioned as well. I was happy to be even training with my soulmate, so I was ecstatic to debut with him! Fate itself led me to being in NCT and I’m so grateful for that._
Everyone claps and makes affirmative noises. Hansol and Yuta share a smile, reaffirming once again how much Donghyuck loves fate.
“They’re so cute, aren’t they?” Jaemin croons.
“It’s so cute. They look so happy.”
“Mark is the important one. Listen closely to his.” Donghyuck does listen, because Jaemin knows that he loves soulmate stuff. It’s probably just something super interesting that he thinks Donghyuck would enjoy. He trusts Jaemin, so he directs his attention back to the video.
_Onto Mark, the youngest member!_
_I’m a carrier too. I haven’t met him, but I’ve… seen him? I know of him. He’s very successful, but he’s younger than me! I figured doing this might be the best way to get his attention. He might not be watching, though. He’s done some prestigious stuff… Well, our fans can let him know, right?_
The crowd cheers in affirmation. Donghyuck feels this weird feeling in his chest- the one he’s heard people describe when they meet their soulmate. He should know, he was the one who researched that shit.
_I saw him in the newspaper first. My mom had given it to me and pointed out the article. I was so happy to see him. I searched him up and watched him on TV. I’ll be honest, I carry around a picture of him for motivation. On the trainee contract, you can’t reach your soulmate until after debut if you’re a carrier and haven’t previously found them, so I couldn’t contact him. I’ve kind of adored him from afar. He’s really bright and passionate about what he does, and he’s really funny too!_
_So, you guys knows how it goes! Say it with me, we’re reaching out to…_
Everyone chimes in loudly and gestures to Mark. There’s a small beat before he replies.
_Lee Donghyuck! Youngest member of the Emirate Board of Fate Scholars._
Everyone claps and they move on to Doyoung. Donghyuck does not move onto Doyoung. He doesn’t move.
“I told you it would be important!”
~~
A ridiculous amount of people approach him to congratulate him and ask about when he’s going to go meet Mark.
Donghyuck’s not sure. He’s still in shock. Jaemin gave him an in-depth profile of Mark and he stayed up until 2 AM looking up gifs and watching videos, his eyes trained on the way Mark moves, speaks, shows emotion, performs, all of it. He watches Mark. He thinks about Mark. When he went to bed, he dreamed about Mark. When he woke up, he thought about Mark.
Mark Mark Mark Mark Mark Mark Mark Mark Mark Mark Mark Mark Mark Mark.
MARK.
Donghyuck keeps squealing to himself.
Jaemin is really happy for Donghyuck. He doesn’t pry about the “meeting him” question, but he offers his support for when Donghyuck is ready. He’s also willing to talk to Donghyuck about all things Mark Lee, due to his extensive knowledge as a fanboy.
The next day, Donghyuck has his Hide and Seek: The Ins and Outs of Searching for your Soulmate class at ass-o-clock in the morning. The teacher always starts by asking if any of the 200 students in the class have found their soulmate recently. Now, Donghyuck gets to raise his hand.
“Donghyuck? Wow, congratulations! Come on up here,” Professor Moon says, beckoning Donghyuck over. Professor Moon is one of his colleagues on the EBFS, and thankfully is not as bigoted as some of the others.
“Um, so I found my soulmate, but I haven’t met him quite yet. He’s in the band NCT and they recently did an interview about their soulmates. My friend Jaemin is a fan, so he sent me the video. Mark Lee, the youngest member of the band, is my soulmate. He found me in the newspaper and has been following my work, but couldn’t reach me because of his contract as a trainee.”
“Does anyone have any questions for Donghyuck?” A few hands shoot into the air.
“When are you planning on meeting him?”
“I’m not sure,” Donghyuck answers truthfully. “I’ll have to find a time to go and meet him, but I also need time to prepare myself. Soulmates are a big deal, so you really have to be ready to go for it. I’m glad to have time to prepare myself. If he had just walked up to me, I would’ve been more drawn back at first. I want to be able to give him my all.”
“How is it finding the concept you’ve been studying so in depth?”
“It honestly makes it harder to stomach,” Donghyuck replies. “Like, when you research something, it’s from a third person standpoint. Now, I have my own experiences. It’s a weird transition to make.”
“Were you a fan of NCT beforehand?” |
4f213b6344dc49f8a7702b46f7ad99f7 | ['e27fb3f70c7c4c959166edeb9838d124'] | **Author's Note:**
> This is a short fic of what happened after Gabriel's death. It is set shortly after season 11, but there are no spoilers unless you don't know who Chuck Shurley is. (Will be featured in later chapters.)
They say when a hero dies that their resting place will Elysian Fields. This couldn't have been further from the truth for Gabriel. He had /died/ in a hotel with the name. But his final resting place had been far from peaceful. One might think an angel goes to heaven when they die. That would also be wrong. They go to their own personal form of Hell. The empty. Where you are left with nothing but your memories to prevent yourself from going insane. The simple humanly crave for another's touch. A conversation. Anything, growing by the bare second. And silence that fills the space around you? It would be enough to drive any man to insanity. 'How?' one would ask. It's relatively simple. Even an archangel cannot live alone, whether it be amongst the heavenly host or humanity itself. Everything is narrowed down to just knowing that there are plenty of creatures to interact with. Some may say that angels go to purgatory when they die. This would also be wrong. Purgatory would be far too kind.The emptiness had been bugging the archangel since his arrival. All the surrounded him was the darkness and mist of which was called the empty. Now, it may not sound all that bad. But consider all of those years that he had spent posing as a demi god. All those years around humans. It had come as a massive shock to the angel's system to find him in such a place. For the first weeks of his death, he had wandered around the place, looking for a way out. Shouting in hopes that he wasn't the only one to have been tossed there. It had been useless, he had never once gotten a response.
Years later and he was being plagued by horrific hallucinations. None other than Lucifer himself. It wouldn't be what one had thought either. It wasn't of himself being tortured. But the very thing that he had fled heaven due to. His older brothers fighting. Day in, day out; the youngest archangel had to deal with the hallucinations of both Michael and Lucifer ripping each other from vessel's, breaking each other's wings. The howls of agony that came alongside it had been no easier to bear. It had Gabriel teetering on the very edge of insanity itself. Had him trembling out of the fear that this could very well be how he would spend the rest of his afterlife. It was far from a comforting thought. In fact, it terrified him more than Lucifer himself did. Whilst having witnessed his brother lose who he was had sent fear prickling through the archangel, nothing could terrify him more so than watching the two eldest angels tear into each other as one would a Christmas present.
By the time the hallucinations had ceased though, it had left Gabriel a broken mess. He had secluded himself in a corner, arms wrapped around his legs as he had been trying to block the fighting out, even if it weren’t real. Tears had begun welling in caramel colored eyes as he had heard Lucifer’s scream of pain, sending chills down the former trickster’s spine. And then it was gone. Everything so suddenly falling silent that Gabriel had needed to raise his head to believe for even a second that it could be real. It had been mere seconds later that he had heard a pray come through loud and clear. A groan parting the archangel’s lips as he had considered it another stupid hallucination to further torture him. And torture him it did. It was the younger Winchester’s voice that he could hear, begging him not to be dead. For everything to have been a stupid and un-amusing prank that he had pulled. But it wasn’t, he really was dead.
It hadn’t been until one day that an almost piercing screech had shattered Gabriel’s defenses. Hands coming up to clamp over his ears in a form of saving his hearing from the shrewd noise. It had, however, only grown louder. To a much more painful level. Screwing his eyes shut, a pained expression crossing his face as it had only further continued to grow louder. And then suddenly he could hear the sound of birds chirping. Well that was... Unsuspected. The crunch of gravel beneath feet had most definitely caught the archangel’s attention. But attempting to pry his eyes open had done no good. Gabriel’s eyelids felt far too heavy to open, and before he could register the retreating footsteps properly, make out who exactly had saved him from his own torment, he had blacked out entirely.
It was a day later that he had come to. A pitiful groan parting his lips. His back ached, and for good reason. He had been laying on what appeared to be a concrete, yet desolated road at least two-hundred miles outside of Kansas. When Gabriel’s eyes had sprung open, he had needed to immediately shield his eyes from the quite frankly blinding light of the sun. It had been a heartbeat later that he had stumbled to his feet, eyes darting around as if savoring the world around him. Jaw slackening ever so slightly as he spun on the spot, searching out who could have stupidly brought him back. It hadn’t been until he had spotted a male figure lounging by a tree not far from where he had been laying that his eyebrows had shot up his forehead. “Gabriel… I’ve missed you, son.” | 88ee094936bc4d23bb17dac2e84bf7d7 | ['e27fb3f70c7c4c959166edeb9838d124'] | **Author's Note:**
> This is a short fic of how Sam copes after Gabriel dies in Hammer of the Gods. It was written whilst I was feeling quite down. Criticism is welcome as long as you're nice about it.
Months had passed since Gabriel had died. The thought that the lively and bouncy archangel was never coming back still tore into Sam like a knife. There was nothing he could do to stop the pain. It hadn't stopped him from hunting though, if anything, it had caused the youngest Winchester to become all the more reckless. He didn't eat unless persuaded by both Castiel and Dean to do so. He rarely slept, and when he did, his dreams were consumed by nightmares. Even though Sam hadn't witnessed Lucifer killing Gabriel, he had still gone back for the younger archangel. The hunter had screamed himself hoarse until Dean had turned the impala around. But by the time he had returned, it was too late. Gabriel's body lay motionlessly the floor, imprints of ashen wings around his body signally that he actually was truly dead this time. Sam had crumbled at the sight, tears brimming in his hazel eyes as he had made his way over to the fallen archangel and all but collapsed beside him. Unknown to anyone, the hunter had fallen for Gabriel and fallen hard at that. He may have acted as if he had hated the angel, but it had been a front for his blooming crush. And now he was gone. And Sam hadn't the chance to tell him before he had sacrificed himself for both him and Dean.
Sam had lain in the motel bed, the sheets rough against his skin as he had turned over onto his side; face pressed into the pillow beneath him to muffle a broken sob that had parted his lips as the memories assaulted him as they did so every night. All that wasted time when he could of told the trickster how he had felt. All of those encounters and he had acted as if he hated the guy. The looks Gabriel had given him as if he knew something that he didn't, which couldn't be any closer to the truth considering he had been one of the oldest beings to walk the earth. The clear intention of making Sam jealous from their very first meeting. How Dean had caught onto Gabriel taking an interest in Sam long before the younger Winchester himself had noticed. Another heartwrenching cry had left the hunter, and for the first time in weeks, he was glad that Dean had agreed to getting separate motel rooms.
Dean had needed to half carry, half drag a catonatic Sam from Gabriel's prone form on the night of his death. Shouts for his older brother to leave him alone echoing around the silent room. It had been heartbreaking for Dean to watch his little brother waste away, spend so much time researching on how to bring an archangel back within the first month of his death. Anyone could clearly see that Sam wasn't moving on, that he continued to mourn the trickster, continued to pray for him to come back. Pleading for this to just be another trick. But each time that he never got a response, each time he was met with silence. It had further broken something inside of the hunter.
That was how Sam had fallen asleep that night. Silently praying whilst his tears soaked into the pillow case below, and heartbroken cries pierced the room's silence. Where his nightmares of losing the archangel started anew as they did everytime he had succumbed to the fatigue that weighed heavily on his shoulders. Golden and lifeless eyes piercing through the darkness, causing his cries to become louder as he slipped into subconsciousness.
Dean could hear his brother's cries from the room next door, something that had his eyes clenching shut as he tried to drown out Sam's sheer agony with his own thoughts. Feeling helpless and unable to do anything as Sam didn't dare speak of Gabriel to him.
Was this another punishment for Sam? It sure as hell felt like one to the younger hunter. But he would never give up on the archangel. Never. |
165560b1bd3c48068ce022b8a69eb224 | ['e281e41b4bc74a0987f58ebd33b32cf5'] | “Come now my Topaz, it's just a glass of honeyed milk. If you’d prefer, I also have tea if that would suit you better.” The grip on his chin was enough to startle him as he was forced to turn back to Aizen. “I fully intend to rectify what you have done, especially if we want to keep that beautiful voice of yours. I will not let one of my collection break when I can easily fix them.”
The lip of the cup pressed into the seam of his lips and the warm liquid glanced off of his upper lip as he screwed his eyes shut and tried to refuse the drink. “Don’t be like a child my Topaz, take your medicine.” At Rose’s silence he continued, “Every choice you make to disobey me makes this harder on both you and your friends. Right now your punishment is already bad enough, do not make me have to do something drastic to make sure you all remain in my control.”
The lip of the cup softly clinked against Rose’s top teeth as the force increased. “Drink.” The command was simple and Rose hated the sweet liquid as it soothed his aching throat, Aizen holding both him and the glass steady as to keep any drops from spilling. Once the glass was empty Aizen repeated the process several more times until Rose felt sick from the sweetness of the honey clinging to his tongue and throat.
“That will do for now.” Reaching beneath the cloth of the tea cart he pulled out what looked like a glittering golden muzzle, shaped similarly to the beak portion of his hollow mask and made to completely cover the entirety of his face starting just below his eyes. “Considering how Kinshara is such a lovely shade of gold, I thought you would enjoy my choice of color.”
Rose tried to jerk his face away from the offending object but too quickly it was secured, the smooth inside shaped to further hold his mouth in place. A quick struggle left him horrified at his discovery.
“With the help of the septima, I managed to get Hachigan to obey a few simple orders when I removed him from your group for a time. I had him spell this muzzle with kidos to prevent the ability to speak or be removed by the wearer.”
Hachi had been forced to use his kido to make something like this? As the table was lowered back down Aizen began to push him out of the room and walked to several of the Espada gathered outside the door. “Return him to his cell, I want him to remain unchained and take anything that could make noise from his cell. Two guards are to remain at his doors at all times and I will call for him to be taken out of his cell to receive care. Do not let the others hear him.” As the guards began to push him away Aizen smiled at Rose and gently called out, “Until we meet again, my Jewel.”
Upon arriving at his cell and being released from his bonds he clawed away at his muzzle and pounded his fists on the walls, knuckles broken and bloody as the voices of his friends calling out continued to echo about in his mind while every part of him screamed to respond to the people he had become closest in the past century.
Hands slid down the wall with the rest of his figure, bloodied handprints left behind as he reached to hold his head to his knees.
————
Time was strange in Hueco Mundo or wherever it was that Aizen had his palace.
Lisa had lost track of the days quickly, and time seemed to drag on endlessly since Rose had gone silent. She hung limply from her chains, the ever present and dull pain that radiated around her body no longer anything but her new state of being.
The unending monotony following the start of the silence seemed to be both a comfort and a new level of Hell. At the same time she was thankful that this was all Aizen seemed to have planned for now she would have rather faced an army of Kushanada than have to listen to the sound of the others’ struggles growing weaker and weaker, roars of revenge and anger replaced by half hearted struggles and the sound of soft crying.
She didn’t even react when the door to the room appeared from the blank white walls, the female Espada leading her little lackeys into the cell.
“Doesn’t seem like we’ll have to hold this one down.” The tallest of her Fracciones seemed a little disappointed in Lisa’s acceptance of whatever they planned to do to her. She was faintly aware of the clinking of the chains above her head moving right before she began to drop to the floor, too weak to try to catch herself.
Not one of them spoke to her as the tallest Fraccion threw Lisa over her shoulder and left the cell, Lisa mumbled a curse about the loss of her glasses as the world turned to a monochrome blur around her.
Out of all of her rotten luck, Aizen had seen fit to take the glasses Kisuke had special made for her vision. Having intensely sensitive eyes and other senses came in handy from time to time but in Lisa’s case it didn’t work out so well. Lisa had to go to Kisuke for special glasses that could both handle her sensitivity and also clear up what damage she had prior to hollowfication.
Before she knew it, they were entering a larger room where, upon being dropped onto the ground like a bag of trash, she could make out the blurred form of Aizen and a number of arrancar around him. | 5116a291c5084021bd9ca890e11de3cc | ['e281e41b4bc74a0987f58ebd33b32cf5'] | “I happened to look up and Mashiro was there, taken over by a hollow. I called out a warning but I was too late. She kicked Rose in the head from above and knocked him to the ground. Her legs were covered in what looking like a bony shell layer to make them stronger, like the pillars in Kensei’s arms.” Lisa pretended to be calm and looked at her fingernails, taking note of her ragged fingernails and where she had picked at the cuticles over the past few days. “I had my attention on Kensei while Mashiro went after Shinji and Hiyori—”
——-
“I wasn’t gonna last long against her.” Shinji looked down as he spoke. “I didn’t want to hurt her in case she was still in there, that and she was not fighting like the Mashiro I knew fought. My main focus though was keeping her far from Hiyori, that she might hurt her or if she tried to…” he didn’t want to say ‘tried to eat Hiyori in her hollowfied state.
—-
“I tried to tell him to put me down, to fight her for real but the dumb baldy tried to tell me to shut up!”
——
“It was pure luck that in the moment she managed to get past my guard that—”
—-
“I’m not as fast as the others.” Hachi was a pillar of strength in how calm he was speaking to the gathered crowds as he gestured to his large figure. “I managed to arrive just in time to use Bakudo #75 to pin her to the ground and keep her away from them.
“I then attempted to use Bakudo 63, Sajo sabaku, to try to restrain Kensei as he fought against Love and Lisa. To our surprise, he broke through it using pure physical strength!”
——
“Right as he broke through I sent a small burst of Kido at him, to keep him away from where he had thrown Lisa. I tried to insult him, to distract him—”
—-
“Hachi needed an opening to use a high level Kido, so Rose fired some more bursts and I charged him to keep him distracted long enough for me and Lisa to get out of the way—”
—-
“I had to use Bakudo #99, Kin, on him to finally restrain him. It was in those brief moments when we were trying to assess what exactly had been done to he and Mashiro that Hiyori—”
——
“I hadn’t been feeling well, I just thought it was blood loss or something, but my robes,” she gestured to where they hung, so tiny compared to the others, “they only had a little blood on them, like my wound had already healed. Then I started coughing and couldn’t stop.”
—-
“I asked Hachi to look at her. That we should focus on her safety before looking at them.”
—-
“Everything began to go dark, I tried to tell him to get away from me, to try to let me go. I started to throw something up.” Hiyori shivered as she recalled the feeling. “My spiritual pressure dropped to nothing right as...she started talking.”
“She?”
Hiyori ignored the question. “It felt hot and cold, and I could feel my spirit chains start to corrode. One foot was in my inner world, the other was out there as the hollow started to take over.” She didn’t notice how she was clenching her fists so tightly that her nails had dug into her palms, blood dripping from both of her hands. “She just...ripped away my control as I screamed. I had to watch as she drew my sword and turned on my friends!” Bloody fists slammed against the podium, “She broke away my control and made me try to hurt them. She hurt Shinji!”
—-
“The horn on the mask cut me from hip to shoulder, I still got a scar on my chest.” Shinji pulled his Kimono open just enough to show the old mark on his chest while pointing with his other hand to the slash on his old uniform. “Chopped off a bit of my hair too, but right after, it went dark, like real darkness as the others all ran towards us.”
—-
“It was really dark. I couldn’t see or hear anything. I tried calling out to the others.”
—-
“It was like I was lost.”
—-
“I felt like I couldn’t breathe, that there was nothing there for me.”
—
“I thought that death had taken me.”
—
“The last thing I remember—”
—-
“The last thing I remember—”
—-
“The last thing I remember—”
—-
“The last thing I remember—”
—
“Pain.” Shinji rubbed a bit of his old chest scar that Hiyori hadn’t done. “I ended up being the last one awake, just in time to see Kaname reveal himself. Him and Sousuke and Gin.” Shinji spat out their names, eyes darkening. “Sousuke told me about how surprised he was that his ‘experiment’ went so well. He then went on to tell me all about how he was using me, that he chose me to be his captain and about the true nature of his sword.” He sighed. “I was an idiot. I let him get close enough to me by pushing him away.
“I got mad and made to go after him, for what he did, but I started to hollowfy. Half of my mask formed and I was sent to my knees.” His hand drifted up to touch his cheek, the ghost of the mask chilling it. “I asked what was going on, what had he done?” The hand fisted before dropping to his side.
—-
“I was still partially there. The hollow was confused. She didn’t know who to go after. I tried to call out for him.”
—- |
ea4c872858894f5996b8d3878887b2d1 | ['e2a06712e18d4adf920e5a8c959aec3a'] | The two spent most of the evening in the kitchen, chatting about their lives and trying to figure out why the hell they met each other in Australia of all places. When midnight rolled around, both had drank about 3 too many beers.
Johnny barely stumbled as he strolled into the living room, plopping himself onto the couch.
Blake sat by him and laid her head on his shoulder, sighing softly, “What the hell am I doing with my life, Johnny? Truth is, I came out here trying to find myself, but I found you instead.”
Johnny turned his head towards hers, rubbing his nose against the crown of her head before pressing a gentle kiss to her temple, “And I stayed out here all of these years to get away from my past, but I found a girl who reminds me a lot of it.”
The girl’s eyes glanced up to meet his and his lips gently met hers.
His lips were a bit rough, like they had continuously been sunburnt for the past seven years, but hers were soft, like they hadn’t been kissed in a long time. They were comforting to Johnny, who had been mostly alone for the greater part of his life. Blake was bringing the soul back into him that he had only once in his life, the last time he was in love.
Their lips parted, but their eyes stayed locked. Johnny let his lips press gently to her alcohol-flushed cheeks as his hands explored her body. One hand reached underneath her shirt, unclipping her bra slowly, as he hadn’t done so in years. Blake tilted her head back a bit, allowing his other hand to wrap around her neck with ease, his thumb caressing her bottom lip. She opened her mouth slightly, letting the tip of his thumb enter.
As Blake began to tug at the belt of Johnny’s jeans, the door flew open. A drunk Riley waltzed in with a slightly-tipsy Beverly on his side.
Johnny released Blake’s neck from his clasp and sprung from the couch, “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!“
Riley waved the apartment key that Johnny had loaned him years ago, “Aw come on, man. We needed a place to crash and yours is a much closer walk from the pub.” He laughed, the smell of beer and weed radiating from his body.
Johnny grabbed Riley’s wrist tightly and looked him in the eyes, mouthing to him through clenched teeth, “Look man, go into my room and DON’T come out until morning! You got that?” Johnny’s voice raised to almost a yell, yet it remained a whisper tone.
Riley gulped and nodded quickly before pulling Beverly to his side and leading them back to Johnny’s bedroom, slamming the door behind them.
Johnny sat back on the couch next to Blake and ran a hand through his hair, “Shit, I’m sorry. I could’ve sworn I got that key back.”
Blake laughed awkwardly before leaning against his shoulder, “Maybe we should just get some sleep.”
Johnny sighed softly, wanting to continue what they had started, though he knew that the moment was completely ruined. He nodded and kissed her forehead before standing and walking towards the nearby closet, finding two giant blankets. He laid back on the opposite end of the couch as Blake, handing her a blanket as he took his shirt off, then covered himself with the other. Closing his eyes, he fell into a light sleep. Blake watched Johnny’s eyes, waiting for him to fall asleep before she removed her own shirt, her bra already on the floor. She crawled onto Johnny, resting her head underneath his chin and nuzzling her face into his chest. Johnny wrapped an arm weightlessly around her naked torso as she covered them with both blankets. They soon drifted off to sleep.
3. Pit
Johnny awoke to Blake’s fingers tangled in his hair, her eyes slightly fluttering as she dreamed. It was still dark out and only a ray of the sunrise shone through the window. Johnny laid for a few minutes, watching Blake as she peacefully slept, before gently moving her body from his. He covered her with both blankets and tucked her in as if she were a baby.
For the first time in seven years, Johnny did not want cereal for breakfast. He did not want to shower alone in his dim-lit bathroom. He did not want to surf at the crack of dawn. He wanted to stay until Blake woke up, shower with her, and make breakfast with her. He wanted to spend every waking minute with her because he found a light in her that he hadn’t seen in quite a while.
As Johnny cracked his bedroom door open, barely making out the silhouette of Riley and Beverly lying naked in his bed, he snuck past them into his bathroom. Turning the light on and grabbing a dirty pair of sweatpants from the floor, he slid them on and stared at his tired, hungover eyes. Splashing cold water on his skin, he ran a hand gently through his hair before quietly returning to the living room.
Blake had rolled onto her back, her breasts barely visible in the dark room. Johnny caught himself giggling softly as he watched her kick her legs in the air like a sleeping dog might. He tip-toed over to her, kneeling next to her on the hardwood floor. He covered her chest with the blanket and gently brushed a small blonde strand of hair out of her face, her eyes slowly opening and a small smile forming on her lips.
“Morning.” A raspy voice escaped her lips, followed by a yawn.
Johnny chuckled softly and pressed his lips to her forehead, speaking against her skin, “Good morning, sunshine… sleep well?” | 1147ca08c8bf4431a0994fee06189691 | ['e2a06712e18d4adf920e5a8c959aec3a'] |
1. A New Wake
The Beach was in ruin. Sand had been washed from the coastline leaving rocks all over the beach. Year after year there was a stronger storm, but that didn’t keep Johnny Utah from surfing. He started in his mid-twenties, but grew to love it quickly. He had traveled all over the world searching for one man, but when he finally found him there on Bells Beach and let him go, Johnny decided to lay low in the area for a while. A while turned into months and months turned into years.
I’ve got nothin’ to live for anymore, so I might as well live for surfing, he thought.
Bells Beach, Australia was notorious for its massive waves and killer breaks. Living there for so long grew Johnny as a surfer more than he realized.
It was late May; the water still hadn’t climbed above 70°F, but the waves were as good as ever.
Johnny stared into his own dark eyes through the mirror and at a solemn face. He remembered a man who he once was, though this was his just a part of daily routine.
He would wake up, take a piss, shower, eat a bowl of wheaties, struggle to put on a wetsuit without clipping his balls with the zipper, surf until his few friends got off of work, eat dinner with them, then drink and get high until around midnight when he would taxi back to his small dump of an apartment and sleep until the cycle repeated itself. Regretting most of his early life decisions fell somewhere in the middle of all of that, or recurred more than once on bad days.
After a shower, Johnny wore only a towel lowly-draped around his waist and strolled into his small mess-of-a-kitchen. The hot water had worn off the remnants of a high from the night before. He grabbed a half-full box of knockoff wheaties from the pantry and poured them into a stained bowl, finishing them off with a splash of milk. He sat on his tattered couch that smelled of stale Corona and ate his small breakfast quicker than usual. He had plans to meet a few friends on the beach to surf the shallowing reef’s point break.
About an hour later, he made his way down the wooden steps of the beach that were soaked in salt water that the storm had blown inland. He spotted Riley and Zane, the only two male friends that he had managed to keep for the past seven years he’d lived in Australia.
They surfed together almost every morning, with a few exceptions when Zane needed to pick up a shift at the local supermarket for some extra spending cash, or when Riley slept in too late.
“Mate! I thought after last night you would be skippin’ today’s sesh.” Zane grinned at Johnny as he approached.
Johnny adjusted the short, fish-style surfboard in his arm and shrugged off the comment, “A hot shower does alotta good, man. You should try it sometime!” The joke sent Riley to his knees in laughter as Zane rolled his eyes with a smirk slowly forming on his face.
“Alright are we gonna catch these waves before high tide or what?” Zane’s smirk faded; he held Riley’s surfboard as he stood back up.
Riley ran a hand through his dirty blonde, shoulder-length hair and grabbed his board from Zane, “Yeah I gotta be outta here in 2 hours… I’ve got a date with this hottie I met at the party last night.”
Johnny’s eyes widened, “You, Australia’s most eligible bachelor, has a date?! Is it the brunette you were pouring shots for?”
Zane shook his head and glanced at Johnny, “Nah, man. I banged that girl last night… couldn’t be her.”
“Chill outttt. She’s a redhead and I dunno… I have a good feelin’ about this one.” Riley‘s laugh faded into a small smile.
The conversation soon ended as the guys rushed into the smaller waves that were crashing on the shore. They paddled their boards in a triangle formation out to the sandbar and waited as larger, stronger waves passed them.
Johnny caught the first, but it broke too soon. Zane caught the next, and man was it perfect. Riley, although clearly in his thoughts about this girl, he caught the third and rode it like a professional.
When the tide started to shift closer to the beach, the guys caught their last waves, all washing up on the shore. They unstrapped their ankle leashes and carried their boards to the top of the beach where they could sit without getting wet.
After some more laughs, Riley had to leave for his date and Zane left with Riley, catching a free ride home.
Johnny unzipped the top half of his wetsuit and pushed it down to his waist. He sat, unbothered by the sound of the city close behind him, in the sand as the sun beat down on his naked shoulders.
“Wait up, Bev!” A feminine voice yelled down the beach as another girl jetted past Johnny towards the reef.
Johnny looked to the source of the voice and saw a short blonde running towards him. She slowed to catch her breath right in front of him and glanced towards the tan man, letting a slight laugh slip from her lips.
“Hi.” She took deep breaths with a goofy smile plastered on her face, glancing towards Johnny, back at her friend down the beach, then back to Johnny as she began to approach him.
“Need a breather?” He chuckled softly and laid his surfboard down on the sand, patting a clean spot that she could sit on.
She nodded, her breathing finally back to normal, and smiled, “Thanks.”
He nodded with a soft grin, “What’s her deal?” He motioned a hand towards the girl at the other end of the beach. |
9f5ab76f45f748468f675573e8a7dfca | ['e2a5d30c856c48318b4e47df95ff6b51'] | Raising a hand she pressed her fingers to the glass, cold seeping into her skin as she pressed her palm to the cool surface. The clock stationed high above rung at the top of the hour and Hermione kept her eyes open to watch as the world stayed gray, swirling around her, the color draining around her, becoming darker when the spinning finally stopped. There was no gray light spilling onto the floor boards and she sighed. This place wasn't even in the same timeframe as Hogwarts. It made her wonder where she even was. Of course Barty would only say it was their home.
With a sigh she stepped from the fireplace-
Seeing her bag land several feet in front of her wasn't the thing that made her stop. It wasn't even the sting on her hand when it was knocked from her grip. It was the fingers curled around her wrist, keeping her in place. A pair of dark eyes looking down at her when she turned her head.
"Barty?" Something must have gone wrong while she was away. "Please, let go of me." Her wrist had started to hurt but she didn't dare pull it toward her. In her previous experience that wouldn't help her situation, and she would rather stop this before it reached that point. "Whatever happened it was the Order. I didn't do anything-"
There was a soft snort that had made her stop short. "Already pleading for your mistake? You make a lousy Crouch." She stared at him. Mistake? What mistake? He must have seen the confusion in her eyes, the way her lips parted to ask as his other hand was soon covering her mouth. "I won't hear it." There it was. That growl beneath the words.
She cringed, drawing back only to have her wrist pulled on to keep her from getting any further away. "Please," Hermione attempted to speak around the hand on her mouth, "don't do this." _Not again._ The feel of his hand seemed to have relaxed and she raised a hand to pull his fingers slowly from her mouth so she could speak clearer. A sense of relief went through her when he did nothing to stop her movements. "Barty, I don't know wha-" The way his eyes darkened quicky made her try another tactic, "Whatever it is that has upset you... I'm sorry, but don't take it out on me." She paused, trying to gauge what she should say next as his expression hadn't changed in the least. "I don't have anything to do with it. I was at school the whole week-"
"Hermione," she pressed her lips together, wondering if it had worked as his voice didn't sound particularly angry. "you are terrible at manipulating people. So don't try it on me."
Her heart seemed to drop directly into her stomach, getting slowly eaten away by the acid. "I-I'm not. I swear, Barty. I just-" she closed her eyes for a moment to try and rein in her thoughts, to stop the panicked rush of words spilling forth from her. "I don't know what you want me to say." Opening her eyes she looked at him but he wasn't saying anything, he seemed like he was waiting for her to say the right words even when she obviously kept failing at doing so. She sighed, trying to think of what he could possibly be talking about but quickly gave up. It's not like she could read his mind. What the hell did he expect? "What mistake did I supposedly make?" she snapped at him in frustration.
The moment those words were out she wished she could take it back. If she hadn't made a mistake before she had now. For a second she could see him glaring at her and then her whole body was spun around to be shoved forward and she stumbled, landing on the couch. She sucked in a breath to refill her lungs, trying to even out her breathing as she heard him walking over. A whimper escaped her just before a hand grabbed her leg just below the knee, dragging her back toward him.
"You want to know what I want you to say?" She twisted her head to look at him over her shoulder, upon seeing his gaze she knew the question was rhetorical. "I don't want you to speak _at all_." His hand made a casual flicking motion and she felt cold a moment later. Her eyes widened and she kicked back at him with her other leg to feel a hand grab at her thigh as her body was pulled over the arm of the furniture.
"No!" A hand left her leg to wrap around her jaw a second later after her shout.
"What did I just say Hermione?" His grip made the bone beneath her skin throb. If bones could actually get a bruise she was sure she could feel them developing. " _Not a word_." Her lips that had been trembling in their attempt to get something, anything out stopped abruptly at his words. He must have been satisfied with that reaction as he let go, his hand moving down to her throat and she closed her eyes unable to stop the whimpers as the hand on her leg trailed up, no longer pulling her body around. Fingers dug into her waist and she immediately started to squirm beneath him.
The chuckle from above made her freeze in place, her hair was moved and his breath was on her neck a moment later. "You can't be doing that on purpose." She could only whimper in response. There had been a threat in his words from before, and even if she didn't know what the threat was she wasn't willing to find out. "Why did you stop?" Hermione closed her eyes as if that would help to keep her from hearing his voice. "Come on, do it again." | cb474a0b69ef4a9fa85173a09fb181d8 | ['e2a5d30c856c48318b4e47df95ff6b51'] | "That law doesn't let you switch-"
"I know about the damn law! That's why I need to speak with someone to get this cleared up!"
He flinched as her screaming started again. "I would appreciate it if you didn't yell. Please leave and come back tomorrow early in the morning and if there's a legitamate problem we can get it cleared th-"
"Is there a problem here?"
Her blood ran ice cold at the voice. All proud and stuck up-like. She could remember it as distinctly as the first time she heard it back in her second year. It could only belong to one person. Lucius Malfoy. She was about to whirl on him when the front desk representitive spoke up, "This Miss refuses to leave without seeing Supervisor Cuthota who is suppose to be getting off right about now."
"If you were to send a message that he has one last visitor I could take her to his office."
The man looked about ready to protest but then sighed in indignation. "I'll send a message right away. I shouldn't have to tell you to get there quickly incase it doesn't arrive before yourselves." turning back to his crossword Hermione got the distinct feeling like he had just let Malfoy take her off his hands rather than deal with him herself.
Look at the bright side, you're getting to go see this Cuthota about this horrendous match. Then on the bad side, you're going to be escorted there by none other than Lucius Malfoy.
Something cold and metallic brushed her shoulder and she turned quickly to look at Malfoy. "Follow me." he said before removing the top of his cane from her shoulder and turning to go deeper into the building. Begrudgingly she followed after him, glaring at his back the whole way, twisting through the hallways till coming to a stop at a door. "Here's your stop, mudblood."
Hermione's eye twitched at the insult. "I can see where your son gets his manners." she retorted in retaliation then opened the door to see an office and walked inside just to get away from the small-minded pure-blood slamming the door behind her. The sound jarred the person searching among a rack of files in the office for just a moment, and then he was going back to whatever it was he was doing.
"Mr Cuthota?" she asked while drawing out a seat to sit in.
"Yes." The man replied still sifting through before he found what he was looking for a second later with a little "aha." sound. Closing the file drawer he turned to her and walked over to sit in the seat across from hers laying what he had found out on the table. "You must be Hermione Granger soon to be Crouch I believe it was. I just got a notice that you would be coming in. These are the papers and a magical copy of the record at the hospital though it won't have anything in it right now."
She was stunned for a moment. Crouch. _Hermione Crouch?_ Merlin she wished people would never associate her with that person. Either person. His father was a bit of an idiot and had broken the law himself. The son was just a complete bloody psychopath. For her to be given that last name, to be reffered to as such already... She very much did not like it. "Right." she said lifting her letter up to set on the table. "I needed to talk to you about that." She paused for a moment but when he just looked at her patiently she continued, "I think there's been a mistake." She opened the letter to simply point at the name Bartemius. "We're definetly not compatible. I don't know if you read the Daily Prophet or not but he tried to kill Harry, my friend and almost succeeded. There's no way I'm marrying him. Much less procreating." A shiver ran through her at the idea and she was sure her face twisted into an expression of absolute disgust.
"When the result came from the matchmaking ritual it was figured that might be a problem with you-"
"Figured!" she screamed before quickly reining herself in at the surprised look on his face from the sudden uncivil reaction. "So what, you already have a solution? Like a back-up to-be-husband." she didn't bother to hide what outcome she wanted.
"Can't do that." Those words tempted her to raise her hands and tear her hair out. Who the hell added that to the law! It was completely ridiculous! "Our 'solution' as you call it is very simple. You'll be getting a marriage counselor to help with any bumps in the relationship."
She felt her jaw drop and quickly closed it. "What?"
"Well it hasn't been decided who in this Department will have the job yet as it's still being looked over but whoever it is will help with anything that comes up. Of course it'll be up to you to schedule any meetings and go to them so whatever it is can be worked out." There was a slight pause in words as he reached for the file and drew a paper out to put on the table. She didn't have to look down at it to know what it was. "If you haven't read the law already you should. There's no mistake with the match. Not with anyones. You can't change it. Since you're here now why don't we get a date for the marriage set up so it's already on file?" He set his hands on the desk in a rather diplomatic way. |
48682bf6eee7430f9b06d735d5ba1a6b | ['e2b9c6836aa54750bc1aa6f3fe733e34'] | "Harry is trying to control himself by blocking The Pack's bond and focus on the Twins I think. Though the bond he can feel our emotions and that is not helping him remain calm right now. As you know the Twins don't have their Pack Mark yet since their family is around Dumbledore so much. Without their Mark Harry couldn't feel their emotions if they're in trouble." explain Luna walking from her chair to where Draco and I were sitting. Without The Alpha's bond in the Pack they all felt kinda lost.
"Harry will need to hunt after he's done to keep him from killing The Weasels." said Remus to us.
"Yeah that's a good idea Remy." said Neville threading his fingers though Luna hair as she laid across his and Draco's lap to try to control the lost feeling without Harry.
Just then it got very cold and dark in the room. He and the rest of the Pack now feel their Alpha. Anger. Pain. Sorrow. And blind rage. Harry could now be seen in the shadows their was a dark glow to him making him look more deadly and dangerous. He was breathing hard with he's eyes close.
Then he snapped his eyes open, Neville can see that his once dark emerald eyes are blood red.
"Hunt...NOW!" he then Shadow Jumped Remus, Draco, Luna and I to where Remus's Father's Pack is to hunt. Leaving the rest of the family at the manor for now.
**The next chapter will be harry's and the Twins talk and see who is Remus's dad.**
**Remember reviews equals love**
Dwyer- dark wise one (side note: Dwyer is a Shadow Warrior like Daren and is not a Shadow Copy like the ones Pack has but he can change his shape to match anyone elses)
~Ciera~
7. Raven's Talk to Rage
_**Chapter 7** _
**Raven's Talk to Rage**
Once Harry had the Twins and Kiernan in Fred and George's room he directed the twins to the bed to sit them down. When they all were on the bed Harry took one hand of each of the twins. Harry sat crossed legged with Kiernan on his lap in the middle of the bed and Fred and George had their back to the headboard.
Taking a deep calming breath Harry asked," What happened before you guys got here."
Fred looked down at their hands before putting an arm around George and brought him closer to him. He then looked Harry in the eye with a looked of pain, betrayal and anger. " Me and George went to the shop after the fireworks we did at the school and we were kissing on the way up to the room on top of the joke shop. When we got in the room mo- _Mrs. Weasley_ was there and didn't take it well in founding out about our relationship.
S-she called us filthy animals saying that _Ginevra_ was going on and on about us tainting you into think that you were gay. She had fire called _Mrs. Weasley_ after seeing us kissing on our way to the dorms at school. That got _Mrs. Weasley_ f-furious at us for taking your money from them by not encouraging you to marry _Ginevra_.
She started sending curses at us and th-hen got Dumbledore to deal with us." at this point Fred was unable to finish the story since he and George was sobbing. Harry took Kiernan off his lap and grabed both the twins into a hug.
" You don't have to continue right now. You're safe now nothing can hurt you now my Red Vipers." said Harry hoping that by blocking the Mark that he could stay calmer longer and not kill the Weasels now. After calming the Twins and himself Harry asked, " Do you want me to go into your mind to see, then you two can rest until dinner."
"Yes Alpha." they whispered together.
"Ok Fred you need to look into my eyes."
Fred did as told. As Harry saw what the two when though the last week and a half he started to feel his blood boil.
He thought he hated Dumbledore before, but after seeing him torture Fred and George for information on him and getting nothing out of them he decided to use The Imperious Curse on them to make them find him and bring him to Dumbledore.
What Dumbass didn't count on was the wards around the manor making The Twins free of the curse when they entered. 'I should Mark them they wouldn't have been affected by any of the Unforgivables like the rest of the Pack.' Harry thought as he went though the memories.
Their so called mother just watched and helped Dumbledore hurt them not lifting finger to help and save them. Harry could feel the Twins betrayed feelings towards their mother. Harry knew that in the back of the Twins minds they thought that she would always have her children's best interest at heart. But seeing her in the whole plot with The Lemon Loving Goat in stealing money and fame from Harry they finally understood that she only wanted them around because of their closeness with Harry.
In Fred's memory Harry could see that after one if the Vipers torture session Dumbass and the Red Hag thought that both of the twins were still unconscious but Fred stayed conscious a few minutes more than his twin. So as they planned what to do to get Harry to marry Ginevra before he battle Voldemort and what to do if he survive the battle. While they also planned how to kill him but make it look like a accident they were not aware that they were being watched.
Harry slowly left Fred's mind trying to keep it together in front of the Twins only to see that Fred and George were fast asleep curled around each other. | bfe6325c2d934ed488c3dd965e1f0ef5 | ['e2b9c6836aa54750bc1aa6f3fe733e34'] |
1. A True Dark Family
**The Green Eyed Panther's Light and Night**
**(Disclaimer) I do not own Harry Potter. If I did Snape wouldn't be a bully to an eleven year old orphan. Neville and Luna would be Harry's best friends and not the red headed weasel and the bossy beaver. Harry would have had an animagus form like a wolf or a panther.**
**Warning: Slash, Sexy Stuff, Character Death, Twincest, and Language.**
**Pairings: Harry/Severus (together since the middle of fifth year), Draco/Ron, Fred/George, Neville/Seamus, Remus/Lucius, Sirius/Bill and Theo/Luna, Dean/Susan.**
**Bashing: Dumbledore, Molly, Lily, James, Hermione, and Ginny.**
**Things you must know before reading: Voldemort died the first time he attacked the Potters, but Dumbledore doesn't believe it. Harry, Neville Draco and Ron have been best friends since they were five years old. Lily and James are alive and the fame has got to their heads. Alice and Frank are alive and are loving parents to Neville. Arthur Weasley will have a backbone in this story. The story starts the summer after sixth year.**
**Chapter 1**
**A True Dark Family**
Harry wakes to the sound of James and Lily fighting again. It was the third time in the one week he has been at the manor after sixth year. He wished that he could spend the summer with his mate Severus Snape and not with James and Lily.
He hasn't thought of the two fighting idiots as his parents since they sent hexes and curses at his uncles Moony and Luc for getting together when he was five. And when his godfather tried to talk to Lily and James about it they cursed his, called his a fag lover and told him he couldn't see Harry anymore.
After that his uncles gave him a pendent that had a wolf and a snow leopard on it that allowed him to go to their manor. Sirius now lives with his lover Bill Weasley in Egypt as a healer of different ancient dark and black curses.
Holding the pendent in his hand, he thought about going for the weekend to rest at the Malfoy manor, when he heard the floo. Getting out of bed and putting a Silencio spell around him. Harry when downstairs after he told Lux his pure white Siberian Husky, that Severus got him for their one year anniversary, to stay in the room. As he neared the living room he heard the familiar voice of Albus -too-many-names Dumbledore.
"The plan is really quite simple my dear."
"Headmaster, are you should this will work?" asked Lily in her Stuck Up Bitch voice.
"Yes my dear all we have to do is get rid of Severus then no one can tell that young Ginny is feeding Harry the love and lust potions to him. This will also stop Harry and Severus from being together, and ruining your good name.
After much thought I think Harry has gotten too independent with his friends around him, he needs to be more controlled and Ginny, Hermione and Molly will do a great job with that." said Dumbledore in his 'I am simply doing this for you', fake grandfather voice.
Harry couldn't believe it they were talking about killing his mate and enslaving him(Harry) as if they were talking about a new dusting charm.
"Headmaster has there been any news on You-Know-Who?" asked James 'Small Dick' Potter.
The wild black haired man had almost disowned Harry, when he was sorted into Slytherin, but Dumbledore said that it was best not to if they wanted to control Harry and have fame.
Harry had only found out about the almost disownment when his personal house elf Dobby popped the almost completed forms to him. Dobby had also showed him the memory of the Potters and Dumbledore's conversation when Harry was on the train to King Cross at the end of first year. After that Harry had all his friends use their own personal elves as spies on different people.
" I'm afraid not my boy. He seems to be still lying low for now." answered the Fool of the Goat Fuckers.
"Harry be resorted after he is with young Ginny, right Headmaster?" asked Lily.
"Oh but of course my dear we can't have the hero be anything but Gryffindor. Now I will be on my way, I have a meeting with our dear Potion Master in ten minutes and I can't be late."
Harry didn't like the way the old Goat said meeting it sent chills down his spine. When he heard the floo his mind went into overdrive, he ran to his room, thinking quickly he whispered, " Dobby."
*POP*
As Dobby was about to open his mouth Harry put his hand over it and he shook his head no. Once he sure Dobby wouldn't talk he removed his hand and took out his wand and a potion vial. Thinking of the past five minutes, Harry placed the memory in the vial and handed it to Dobby.
"Dobby I need you to go to Malfoy Manor and tell them that Dumbledore is going to try to kill Severus. Take Remus and Lucius to Madam Bones and have them charge Dumbledore, Lily and James Potter with conspiracy to commit murder and attempted murder. Give that vial to Madam Bones only and make sure Fudge is nowhere near it. Now Go!" With a soft pop Dobby was gone.
Grabbing Lux and thinking of the room of requirement Harry vanished from the Potter Manor and reappeared in Hogwarts.
Letting go of Lux and getting his wand out, Harry thought of a door that would lead to Severus's chambers.
He and Lux ran thought the door only to stop in shock at what they saw. The living room was completely destroyed chairs, the couch and books were scattered in pieces throughout the room.
'Please be okay Severus.' Harry thought as he took in the damage around the chamber.
**BANG** |
daf81101abee49f8872e25e52726a6fb | ['e2bedd040cd148ba8c2bf6086b6416a5'] | “Dan, I think we should go,” Phil said quietly, as the waitress – who was on the verge of tears – stormed away from their table.
Dan rolled his eyes at Phil.
“We haven’t had dessert yet.”
“I don’t want any,” Phil said, starting to get up from the table. Then he saw something that made him collapse weakly back into his chair, his eyes wide with disbelief.
Dan had been looking at something over Phil’s shoulder, when his eyes had suddenly turned solid black.
Phil took a shuddering breath. “Dan, your eyes, they’re –“
But he was interrupted by the arrival of a man wearing a trench coat.
Dan’s eyes went back to their normal chocolate-brown and for a moment Phil thought he’d just imagined it.
Then Dan stood up, facing the trench coated man with absolute loathing on his face.
“You must be Castiel,” Dan sneered. “They told me about you.”
“Who are you?” The trench coated man said. His blue eyes drifted over to Phil, then back to Dan.
“No one important,” Dan said it mockingly. “But the King said I might run into you. And the Winchesters.”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Chapter title from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas by Hunter S Thompson.
3. Them Good Old Boys Were Drinkin' Whiskey
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> They go for a drive...
“Dan, what on earth is going on?” Phil was honestly scared.
Dan turned to him with a sneer.
“God, Phil, just shut the fuck up!”
Phil recoiled at the brutality in Dan’s voice. He fumbled for his wallet and dropped some money on the table. He was blinking back tears as he walked out into the neon-bright night. Running a hand over his face, he berated himself for being so weak. About half a block from the restaurant, Phil abruptly stood still. Despite his anger at Dan, there was no way he could just leave his friend with a stranger.
He got back to the restaurant in time to see Dan walk out the door, accompanied by the guy in the trench coat and two other men who seemed a lot less friendly. One of them was carrying a strange bone-like knife at his side.
“Dan!” Phil called out. One of the men, with shaggy brown hair, turned toward him.
“Who are you?” he asked, his eyes travelling warily over Phil’s face.
“Who are _you_?” Phil countered, “and what are you doing with my friend?”
“You better come with us.” This came from the man with the bone-knife.
“We’re not going anywhere with you!” Phil wasn’t sure where his courage came from, but he wasn’t going to back down now. “Let him go.”
The man with the knife actually smiled before reaching into his jacket and pulling out a gun. He aimed at Phil’s heart.
“You are coming with us.”
They drove for almost twenty hours. Phil wasn’t sure where they were going or why, and he was more terrified than he’d ever been in his life. Before getting into the ancient Chevy, the men, who had introduced themselves – grudgingly – as Sam and Dean Winchester, had taken his and Dan’s phones, then they had chained up Dan. Literally. The trench coated man – Cas – had pushed Dan into the car wearing a collar and handcuffs, connected by two lengths of chain. The collar and handcuffs were engraved with a bunch of symbols. They even handcuffed Phil, but his pair wasn’t decorated. They looked kind of ‘standard issue’ to Phil, which scared him more, since these guys were obviously not law enforcement. Aside from the classic rock issuing from the car’s cassette player, the journey was horribly quiet.
Eventually Sam leaned over from the passenger seat and wrapped a piece of black cloth over Phil’s eyes. He wondered if they did the same to Dan. Not long after, the car stopped. Someone helped Phil out then led him inside a building. The blindfold was removed just in time for him to watch as Dan was led away by Dean and Cas. Phil turned to Sam, who was standing a few feet away, a frown on his face.
“What’s going on?” Phil’s voice was a little scratchy from being quiet for so long.
“Do you know what your friend is?” Sam looked at Phil as if he could read his mind.
“What do you mean? Dan is just Dan. I mean, he’s been acting strange for a while, but I checked his room, I didn’t find any drugs and he hasn’t made any new friends and I don’t know what he’s gotten mixed up in, but he’s my best friend and I’ve gotta help him and...” Phil’s voice trailed away.
Sam seemed confused. “You don’t know anything?”
Phil shook his head, staying silent to wait for an explanation. Dean and Cas came back after a few seconds and Sam motioned toward Phil.
“He’s clueless,” Sam told Dean with a sigh.
“Please, tell me what’s happening!” Phil didn’t mean to shout, but he was glad he did.
It was Cas who answered, looking at Phil with the sadness of eons in his blue eyes.
“Dan is a demon.”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Chapter title from American Pie by Don McLean.
4. Figure In Black
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Phil learns that monsters are real.
>
> Chapter title from Black Sabbath by Black Sabbath.
Phil stared at Cas in stunned silence for a few seconds, then shook his head, a nervous laugh escaping his chapped lips.
“A demon?” he said mockingly, but the strangeness of his situation robbed his voice of any sting. “Yeah, right, and I’m a unicorn!”
Dean stepped forward, one hand raised in a placating gesture.
“It sounds crazy, I know,” he said calmly. “But monsters exist, and your friend is really a demon.”
Phil looked into Dean’s green eyes. _This guy looks like he’s seen too much,_ Phil thought shakily. | 787c972fa44b48b5839007851b23189a | ['e2bedd040cd148ba8c2bf6086b6416a5'] | Phil grabbed the key ring from Dr. Mason’s pocket, and they set off running toward the staircase.
At the top, Phil paused.
“I have to find Dan.” He looked at the keys on the chain. Two were identical, master keys for probably every door in the building. He unhooked one and handed it to PJ. “We split up. You two take one key, I’ll take the other. We’ll meet back at the car, okay?”
Chris nodded. “Thirty minutes, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Phil answered, then headed left. He unlocked door after door. Most of the cells were empty. Some weren’t, but he didn’t care. He left the doors open, aware that some of the people were following him and others were making their way towards the stairwell. Phil refused to think about them, keeping his thoughts focused on Dan.
He turned into another corridor, opening door after door until he found him.
Dan. Pale, with dark circles under his eyes, curled into a ball on the cold tile floor, but alive.
Phil rushed toward him, only to stop in his tracks when Dan recoiled, shaking his head.
“Dan,” Phil said quietly, moving slowly closer. “It’s me, it’s Phil. Dan? I’m gonna get you out of here, take you home, okay?”
Dan was still shaking his head, he scrambled back into the corner of the room.
“Dan,” Phil crouched down, “It’s me, Dan. Just Phil. You’re safe now, I won’t let them hurt you anymore.”
Dan squeezed his eyes shut, them opened them slowly.
“Phil?” His voice cracked. Suddenly he launched himself at Phil, clinging to the older boy as painful sobs tore from his chest.
“Shh, Dan, it’s okay,” Phil said softly, stroking his friend’s back. He could hear footsteps, he knew they needed to get out. Now.
“Dan,” he cupped Dan’s face in his hands, so their eyes met. “We need to go now.”
Dan nodded, letting Phil help him to his feet. Phil grabbed one of the people who had followed him after being released from their cell. A girl, probably in her twenties. He pushed the key into her hand.
“Open all the cells! Do you understand?”
She nodded, and jogged down the corridor, unlocking doors as she went.
Phil grabbed Dan’s hand, and they ran toward the stairwell. For a moment, Phil was sure they would make it, but two armed guards appeared around the corner, blocking their path.
Before Phil could react, Dan pulled his hand free and stepped toward the guards with his arms outstretched. A second too late, Phil realised what Dan was doing.
“No! Dan, no!” But the guards dropped to the floor before he could reach them. Dan kept going, and Phil had no choice but to follow. He caught up to Dan in the mouth of the stairwell. He grabbed the younger boy’s hand again, and they descended the stairs together. They made it to the second floor without encountering any more guards. As they turned the corner to descend to the first floor, three armed guards and two men wearing featureless masks were waiting for them.
Dan screamed. Not a scared scream, but a scream filled with anger. He pushed Phil forcefully away from him, before running to the nearest guard. They seemed just as shocked as Phil at Dan’s outburst. Two guards were dead before the other three men were galvanised into action. The masked men each grabbed one of Dan’s arms, but he just slipped his fingers under their sleeves, and they crumpled to the floor. Dan straightened up, his expression calm as he faced the last guard. The man lowered his gun.
“Please don’t kill me.”
But Dan stepped forward, pressing the palm of his hand to the man’s cheek.
“Dan...” Phil didn’t know what to say. Dan turned toward him. There were tears shimmering in his brown eyes, making them look darker.
He held out his hand, and Phil took it. They could discuss this later. For now, they had to get out alive.
They met no more opposition as they fled the building. It seemed the guards were trying unsuccessfully to contain the escapees upstairs.
PJ and Chris were already in the rental car they had driven here. Phil pulled Dan into the backseat with him, and PJ pulled away, driving faster than was safe on the country lane. Phil pulled out his laptop.
It was time to tell the world about Domus Inc.
He sent the files everywhere. Government agencies, media corporations, universities and social media companies.
He closed the laptop. Now it was out of their hands.
The next morning Phil woke Dan with a cup of coffee and a newspaper. He sat on the edge of the bed in his guestroom and watched as Dan read the headline.
“It worked.”
Phil had told Dan the basic outline of their rescue mission when they’d gotten back to his flat in Manchester. Then he’d given Dan a mug of hot chocolate and told him to go to bed.
He’d woken up four times during the night, looking into the guestroom to check on Dan.
“Thank you, Phil.” For a moment, Dan looked almost himself again.
He was going to be okay, Phil decided. Despite everything, Dan was going to be okay.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Thank you so much to everyone who read and commented and kudo'd!
**Author's Note:**
> **THE END** |
f041bafdcd17478a9caf325c1c7d22fa | ['e2c656ed62e04c9db630516dc637a256'] | (Nie Huaisang looked especially grieved- but then, he had lost his brother not too long ago. He understood.)
Jin Ling was with his uncle, his eyes red with tears. Jiang Cheng had his arm around his nephew, whispering softly whenever Jin Ling spoke.
Lan Jingyi was with the other Lan disciples, his expression haunted and full of guilt as the others spoke around him.
He carefully never looked over to Jin Ling’s side of the room, and Lan Wangji couldn’t spare the energy to guess why.
(He’d find out later, when Jingyi broke down in front of him. How Jin Ling had accused him of failing to protect Lan Sizhui. How he should have died instead of Sizhui-)
(Words borne of anger, of pain. Lan Wangji could only pull Jingyi into an embrace as the young man sobbed.)
X x X
Lan Wangji was surprised to see Mo Xuanyu- but then, he shouldn’t have been. His brother had spoken with the disciples- they would have told him about Young Master Mo.
Mo Xuanyu, looking far less disheveled then he had that fateful day, approached Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen. His face was cleaned of the garish makeup it had had all those days ago.
He offered them a weak smile, stating softly. “I have no gift to offer Young Master Lan, but with HanGuang-Jun’s permission, I would like to thank Young Master Lan the only way I can.” He held up a _dizi_ , nodding towards Lan Wangji.
Lan Wangji didn’t react. Lan Xichen, on Wangji’s other side, smiled politely and nodded. “Sizhui would have appreciated the gesture, Young Master Mo.”
The other man offered a faint smile, and began to play.
At first, Lan Wangji didn’t react. But as the _dizi_ played, he slowly began to raise his head, staring at Mo Xuanyu with widened eyes.
He said nothing, but tears began to fall.
X x X
_“Lan Yuan is almost 15 now, is he not Wangji?”_
_“Mn.”_
_“Have you thought about a courtesy name?”_
_“...Sizhui.”_
_“...After all these years?”_
_“Mn.”_
X x X
_Wei Wuxian_
When Lan Wangji had approached him after the funeral, Wei Wuxian had been in the middle of planning his departure.
He had no intention of going to the Cloud Recesses initially, but the letter from Lan Xichen changed his mind. He had known that Lan Sizhui was part of the direct Lan family- his patterned ribbon had been obvious- but he hadn’t realized how close to the Sect clan leaders he must’ve been.
(But then, hadn’t Lan Zhan held Lan Sizhui like a parent would a child?)
Maybe it was the guilt gnawing at his heart, but Wei Wuxian… wanted to see him again. Pay his respects.
~~Apologize~~
xXx
The memorial was extravagant, compared to typical Lan Sect affairs.
Sizhui’s coffin was dark, decorated with lacquered cloud designs of Gusu Lan Sect, with a small sun peeking out from the corner of each cloud.
An altar was placed before the coffin. A portrait of Lan Sizhui was placed there, with two candles lighting each side.
Wei Wuxian watched in curiosity as the funeral commenced.
Lan Wangji sat to the side of the altar, his appearance immaculate but his gaze dull and far away. In his hands, he held three covered plaques.
Lan Xichen, as Sect Leader, spoke first. Wei Wuxian tried to focus on what he said, but his eyes kept drifting to Lan Wangji.
_He looks tired._ Wei Wuxian mused as Lan Xichen thanked them for arriving. One of the Lan Disciples handed him a red envelope, which Wei Wuxian took absently.
The other sect leaders approached the altar, bowing their respects to Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen. Jin Ling, at his uncle’s side, offered Lan Wangji a small bouquet full of the Jin Sect’s famed peonies.
Lan Wangji took it, resting the bouquet against the plaques in his lap as the queue continued, small gifts piling next to him as people paid their respects.
Wei Wuxian, after a moment, joined the throng of people. He held a _dizi_ in his hand- a black and gold one that he found jammed in one of the shelves in Madame Mo’s room. The characters _Mo Meihui_ were engraved in the wood, looking well loved and well worn.
(Mo Meihui was Mo Xuanyu’s mother, he heard the servants whisper. A talented _dizi_ player, who, with a smile and a song, charmed her way into Xuanyu’s father’s graces.)
Wei Wuxian fiddled with the _dizi_ as the line moved, trying to settle on a melody to wish Sizhui well. Most of the tunes he played were to raise fierce corpses, not put a soul to rest.
After a moment, a melody fluttered to his mind, and he smiled.
He didn’t notice Lan Wangji’s tears until he finished.
X x X
Lan Wangji was carrying the plaques he had been holding at the funeral. As Wei Wuxian straightened to greet him, Lan Wangji’s expression turned… _complicated_ , his grip tightening on the wooden slabs in his arms.
“Please, come with me.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“...To see Sizhui.”
“I-” He hesitated, seeing the look in Lan Wangji’s eyes. With a sigh, he nodded. “Alright.”
Lan Wangji inclined his head before he turned, guiding Wei Wuxian to the Lan Sect’s cemetery- one of the few places in the Cloud Recesses he had never seen in his previous life.
Wei Wuxian glanced at the plaques in Lan Wangji’s arms, his mind whirling around. Were they, perhaps, Sizhui’s family? But then, why were there three? Unless Lan Zhan wasn’t Sizhui’s birth father-
He was startled out of his thoughts as they approached the cemetery, only to turn to another entrance- The Lan Family Crypt, where the direct descendents of Lan An were buried.
Lan Wangji entered without a thought, but Wei Wuxian lingered at the entrance, awkwardness bubbling in his mind.
“Are you sure I can enter here? Isn’t this place… well… forbidden to outsiders?” | be0dfbaba8b24c99927fb6759ad8a720 | ['e2c656ed62e04c9db630516dc637a256'] |
My Dear Prince Inigo
**Author's Note:**
> This has been a WIP ever since I did Laslow and Xander's supports together and met my twitter fates fam.
>
> You can take this as Post Xander's coronation but before the Awakening trio leave for Ylisse.
Laslow bit the back of his hand, trying to stifle the soft moans escaping him as his hips trembled, dwarfed by the hands on his hips holding him in place.
A sharp suck on the base of his cock made his chest arch, a muffled sob passing through his weak barrier as his Lord teased him relentlessly.
Xander smirked faintly against the young man’s cock, pressing deceivingly soft lips against his head. “Laslow, you usually have such a way with words. Tell me what you want.” Laslow squirmed but obeyed, panting as he tried and failed to make his Lord stop teasing him.
“X-Xander… please.” His cheeks were flushed and his hands flexed where they had gone to grip the bed sheets.
He was a prince, one of the strongest members of his father’s army, and yet he was putty in the careful teasing hands of Lord Xander.
The older man simply breathed out a soft amused sound, pulling away to kiss his way up his retainer’s body; one hand resting on his side, the other sliding to grip Laslow’s hair, forcing his head back to bare his neck.
The retainer’s neck was already littered in old and new hickeys, and Xander pressed butterfly kisses to the old ones before biting down just below the younger man’s jaw. Laslow cried out, his hands moving to grip Xander’s shoulders. His breath was shallow, gasping as Xander pressed a soothing kiss to the new bruise.
Slowly, Xander ceased in his teasing, his hand loosening and moving to playfully ruffle the younger man’s hair. He pulled away, gazing affectionately at the bruise and kiss stained skin trailing down his retainer’s body. Laslow’s cock was wet, glistening in the low light of Xander’s room. Granted, Xander was no better, but he pushed away those thoughts to send the other man a small smirk.
He still had one last weapon, to tease his lover and break him. As Laslow’s breath evened, his brown eyes clearing a little as he gazed at the man on top of him, Xander leaned down, nipping Laslow’s ear and whispering in a soft, teasing voice.
“Tell me what you want, my dear Prince Inigo.”
The young man froze, his eyes widening as he mouthed his name in quiet surprise. Xander’s voice shot electricity through his cock, the sound of his name passing through the other man’s lips grounding him for a moment.
“H-how-”
“Leo’s retainer told me.” Xander shifted, pulling Inigo to his chest as he settled down against the bedframe. Inigo straddled him, still a little shell shocked and aroused, which only grew as Xander spoke. “Inigo… a gorgeous name for a handsome man like yourself. May I use it?”
There was a shyness in his Lord’s eyes, and Inigo took a moment to shake himself out of his stupor, smiling shyly in return. “That depends, my Lord. I demand… payment for such an intimate action.”
Xander simply rested one hand on Inigo’s jaw, his lips ghosting Inigo’s. “What price, may I ask?”
Inigo didn’t respond, pushing himself up to close the small distance between them. His hands rested on Xander’s bare chest, quietly revelling in the strong muscles warm under his touch.
Xander’s own hand slid into Inigo’s hair, pulling the young prince closer. Inigo’s lips were soft, and Xander couldn’t resist the urge to deepen the kiss. Their tongues rubbed against each other, and Xander let out a soft sigh as Inigo willingly submitted, his arms circling Xander’s neck.
Slowly, they pulled away. Inigo was a bit dazed and Xander couldn’t help but feel smug as his hands trailed down Inigo’s body. The other’s man’s body wasn’t as broad or muscular as his own; instead he was more slender, naturally adapted to being a dancer rather than a warrior. Inigo was also far more relaxed, his entrance pliant and eager as Xander teased his way in.
Xander wasted little time as Inigo was still stretched from their last endeavors over the last week. Inigo shivered and pressed their hips together insistently, his head falling on Xander’s shoulder to keep himself still.
As Xander pulled his fingers out, Inigo smiled against Xander’s skin before pulling away, easily taking advantage of the blond’s distraction to tug the handcuffs out from under the pillow and snapping them on Xander’s wrist.
Xander only glowered, but reluctantly allowed himself to be maneuvered down, allowing Inigo to finish snapping the cuffs onto the bed. Inigo straddled his lover, a sly smile playing on his lips as his hands traced old scars, taking in the rare view with pleasure.
His eyes roamed the older man before he lifted his hips, guiding the King’s cock to his entrance, letting only the tip enter him.
Xander was a sight to behold, his fair skin tinged pink as Inigo began to sway his hips, taking Xander in bit by bit. His hands braced on Xander’s broad chest, fingers splayed out as he let out a soft moan, his head bowed down as he sunk deeper down.
Xander groaned, tense as he resisted thrusting up into Inigo. His hands were clenched, strung up above his head. Inigo’s intentions were clear: this was his show now.
Once Inigo was fully settled in Xander’s lap, he got to work, slowly rocking back and forth as his body readjusted to having a cock in him. He bent forward slightly, moving his hips and body sensually as his fingers reached to tease Xander’s nipples. |
9017e7415cfc4b4eaf519712374024c6 | ['e2f361318d7242e3a07358cae700f138'] | 1. Repeat
**Author's Note:**
> This is just a collection of drabbles, mostly practice with different styles of writing.
>
> Chapter 1 has no pairings, vaguely from the dance-line pov.
up and down
motions wavering
breath caving
repetition
repetition
again
they begin again
sweat dripping down flushed skin, soaking into the fabric of white tees and black hoodies
they don't stop
they can't stop
never stop
never never
pick up one foot
each foot
repeat again
breathing hard
it's been hours or only moments
the best a pulse throbbing through their veins never stopping
never stop
again
again they start over
from the top
pushing past tired
past exhaustion
testing the boundaries of their bodies
finding the borders and slowly, surely widening them
extending past comfort
burning
lungs burning for air
harsh breaths
sweat rolls slowly down their skin
again
again
repetition
start over
the lighting harsh
reflecting off the mirror
off their sweat
shoes squeak against the floor
their movements quick
precise
crisply in sync
never faltering
repetition
repeating again
for perfection
striving for a shared goal
reaching
holding tightly to their dreams
clutching it tightly within strong hands cradling it close to their hearts
a fluttering precious hope for the future
someday
one day
begin again
again
repeat again from the top
never stopping
never
never stop
can't stop
repeat
2. Need to Say - yg/jk
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> "I-uh," Jungkook stuttered, "I have something I need to tell you."
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I'm not sure what this is, but it's here. I should be sleeping right now.
>
> I'm not satisfied with how it turned out, but I hope you like it!
A quiet jostling of the door handle was the only warning before the door of the studio was abruptly thrown open. Yoongi started, turning towards the door. The curse ready on his lips died when he saw Jungkook in the doorway.
Breathing heavily, Jungkook just stared at his hyung. While he caught his breath, Yoongi took in his disheveled appearance. The younger looked as though he'd run most of the way here. "I-uh," Jungkook stuttered, "I have something I need to tell you."
Confused, Yoongi tilted his head in silent question.
"Don't look at me like that hyung." Jungkook huffed out. Before Yoongi could retort, Jungkook spoke again.
"Even if, even if this messes everything up, I have to say it. Otherwise I'd regret it." Yoongi noticed Jungkook's hands were shaking slightly. "I-I like you hyung. Like you like you."
"Fuck." Yoongi breathed, surprised. Jungkook's face fell, a mixture of hurt and confusion flitting across his face. Yoongi felt panic bubble up in his chest at the younger's expression.
"Give me a second Kook-ah. That didn't come out right."
He reached out and grabbed one of Jungkook's shaking hands.
"I'm not good at this," Yoongi gestured vaguely with his free hand. "I don't know what to say to that." He sighed.
Jungkook kept his gaze on the ground. With his face turned to the side, Yoongi could see the tension in his jaw. The younger was rigid, Yoongi's hand the only anchor keeping him from leaving. Yoongi swallowed, attempting to get the right words out, but managing to utter silence.
"Kinda figured you'd, ah," Jungkook's voice came out hollow. "I'm going to go now hyung." Jungkook pulled his hand from Yoongi's grasp.
"Like me why?" Yoongi finally spoke. "Why Jungkook? Since when?"
Moments passed before either of them so much as breathed. Slowly, Jungkook turned to face Yoongi, his eyes searing into Yoongi with the intensity of his stare. The dark orbs held the answers to his questions and Yoongi willed himself to keep the younger's gaze.
Neither were eager to break the silence that bound them. They both knew that once they did, things would never be the same. Jungkook's eyes were wet, and Yoongi could feel his own heart breaking for bringing the tears to his eyes.
"Oh, Jungkook, I'm sorry. I-"
"Please stop hyung. I can't," Jungkook's voice broke.
Quickly, Yoongi pulled Jungkook to him. He ran a hand through Jungkook's hair to soothe him. "No. I'm doing this all wrong." Yoongi could feel Jungkook's heart racing against his chest. "I like you too."
Raising his head from Yoongi's shoulder, Jungkook stared at him in disbelief. Yoongi gently cupped the younger's face, brushing away a stray tear with his thumb.
Slowly, slowly, Yoongi brought their lips together.
The kiss was chaste and only lasted a few seconds but it was enough to leave Yoongi breathless. Jungkook's face was painted a pretty red and Yoongi could still feel his heart furiously beating against his chest.
Uncertainly still lingered in Jungkook's eyes. "Do you mean it?"
Very carefully, Yoongi brushed Jungkook's bangs out of his face. He flicked the younger's forehead. Jungkook let out a strangled cry in surprise.
"What was that for hyung?!" Jungkook rubbed the spot Yoongi hit.
Yoongi grinned at the younger. "For being an idiot." Jungkook glowered at him for a moment, before his lips curled up in a mischievous grin.
"But I'm your idiot, right?"
"Right."
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I'm on tumblr at USER.
**Author's Note:**
> This was a fun piece that I wrote up while at a cafe. Let me know what you think! My tumblr is USER - feel free to talk to me on there also! | 98bce4a98c7045e3a013733c158f8bcd | ['e2f361318d7242e3a07358cae700f138'] |
**Author's Note:**
> The base world for this is actually something from one of my original works. i'll probably expand the AU more in the future with more magic and actually get into the characters more and the trouble they tend to get themselves into.
The door hit the ground with a loud crunch. Coughing, a young man lifted his head, a dazed look in his eyes. Dust billowed through the air, coating his pitch black hair and back. He lay still, ears ringing, dazed from smacking his head in the fall.
The room had gone silent, people in the room frozen in place. A second young man appeared in the empty doorway, blood on his hands and black hair in disarray. With the bright sunlight behind him casting him in shadow, the blue ability marks on his neck and arms seemed to glow and he looked as if he was a war demon. With his free hand, he grabbed a fist full of the dust covered man’s jacket and hauled him bodily to his feet. Pushing him ahead, the two plowed through the room.
The two men paused for a moment at the wall behind the house. “You.” The pale skinned man muttered, “are an idiot.” He turned to his younger companion, “You look like a desert specter from all the dust.” He tried patting off the dust.
"Oi!“ The younger man sidestepped out of the older’s reach. "That hurt hyung.” He brushed his hands through his hair, causing a cloud of dust to swirl around his head. He could feel a lump forming where he smacked it, a light throbbing beginning at the base of his skull. “Where to next oh fearless leader?”
Yoongi shot him a glare. “Shut it Jungkook. We have to get to the east lower city and I’m trying to think how to get there without being conspicuous.”
A muffled shout came from inside the house behind them. The two looked at each other and quickly climbed over the wall.
Dropping to the other side, they landed in front of a group of six men wearing the uniform and insignias of the queen’s guard. Everyone froze in surprise.
"So much for being inconspicuous.“ Jungkook muttered to Yoongi, taking a step back.
As soon as the words were uttered, the spell holding them in place was broken. Yoongi let out a growl, grabbing Jungkook’s arm and sprinting down the narrow street. The guards behind them let out a roar and charged after them.
Taking a left at the end of the road, they weaved through the crowd. Colorful stalls lined the streets, their wares out on display in the midday sun. Some venders were toting their wares on carts, usually food, which wafted delicious smells through the air. Jungkook’s stomach let out a grumble as they mingled with the people milling about. Yoongi raised an eyebrow.
"What?” Jungkook exclaimed, raising his hands in defense. “Don’t give me that look. I didn’t eat lunch yet. Kind of been a bit busy.”
Yoongi just shook his head in response. As they reached a crossroads, angry shouts rose up from behind them. Glancing behind, Jungkook could see the guards charging down the road, shoving people aside. As he turned forward again, a woman stepped out of a shop into Jungkook’s path.
With no time to react, Jungkook collided with the woman. They tumbled to the ground, Jungkook twisting so that he took the brunt of the fall. The woman landed on his chest, knocking the air from his lungs.
Jungkook lay still for a moment. The women sat up, her black hair in disarray. Her pale yellow dress was smudged with dust. Her brown face turned red as she worked her mouth.
"You…you wretched….imbecile!“ She sputtered angrily.
Jolted back to reality, Jungkook scrambled to his feet. Yoongi had already disappeared in the throng of people. The guards were drawing near to Jungkook, but they hadn’t spotted him just yet. Muttering an apology, he turned away from the angry woman, looking for somewhere to run or hide. She let out an enraged screech at his retreating back, but Jungkook ignored her and took off down the narrow alleyway he spotted next to the shop the woman had come out of.
It was a tight fit, with barely enough room for Jungkook’s broad shoulders. There was an old metal stair partway up on the wall. Using a discarded crate as a step, Jungkook launched himself onto the stair. It shuddered and creaked ominously under his weight, but the stairs held fast. Flecks of rust crumbled onto Jungkook, speckling his dust covered clothing. Quickly Jungkook climbed up, reaching the roof in seconds.
The shop was only three stories high, but it was high enough to see the wall to the north lower city. The Golden City was divided into sections by thirty foot walls and the pair of them were looking to leave through the north lower city’s east gate. Or at least that was the plan. Getting split up hadn’t been a part of that. Jungkook rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, along the black ability mark encircling his those like a collar. His wrists had two thin black cuff-like marks and a thicker gray mark. He surveyed the layout of the streets and rooftops as he began heading to the planned exit gate, eyes straining to catch any sign of his smaller hyung.
Traveling across the rooftops proved to be an efficient way to get from one part of the city to another. In short order, Jungkook had passed through central town to the east quarter. Once he was over that wall, Jungkook began heading north. The buildings in the east quarter had flat roofs, making travel quicker than the angled roofs of the central town. |
9fb450ed26904480aa11822ee66d04c9 | ['e2f65865a0d048e2a80201917762aa89'] |
Best Laid Plans
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> I blame suzie_shooter, and Alex Pettyfer. There's just something about him that makes me want to do filthy things to him, even if only via fiction...
>
> Note: The non-con element of this is peripheral, but I wanted to warn anyway. The key pairing of this fic is consensual.
He should, perhaps, have anticipated this.
For years now, Alex Rider has managed to appear at precisely the worst possible moments and disrupt the plans of his employers. The question of why none of them have simply had him shot is a mystery, but the fact that they have not is a relief. They give him the time, and Alex has the resources, and every time he's managed to escape.
Once again, he has found his way into a position that is a problem for them. Once again, they have not had him shot. As often happens, they have chosen to drug him.
This time, it isn't a sedative.
He watches uneasily as Alex goes willingly to his knees in front of the head of the cartel he's annoyed this time, as his eyes glaze over and he opens his mouth.
Even though he knows he isn't a boy anymore, that Alex is at least as old as he was himself when he started in his chosen career, it still seems akin to molesting a child. Molestation it certainly is, as the laughing gangster undoes his fly and tugs his thick, dark cock from his pants, thrusting it in Alex's direction.
Whatever they've given him seems to do more than just make him compliant - Alex is not simply the victim of this obscenity, he is an active participant, licking, sucking, opening his mouth wide when the gangster stops laughing and starts thrusting more urgently, gripping the boy's head by his shaggy locks.
It doesn't take long.
He shoves Alex away, leaves him sprawled on the floor when he's done with him, and heads for the door, shouting an instruction over his shoulder as he goes.
"Yassen! You can have a bit of fun with him if you want, and then get rid of him. Dump the body somewhere they can find him, let MI6 know what happens to people who mess with us!"
His bodyguards follow him from the room, smirking.
The sound of the door unfreezes him, and he crosses the room cautiously, eyes fixed on the limp figure of the panting boy. At least he's still breathing.
When he gets close, he crouches, places a hand on one slim shoulder, encourages him to turn over and sit up.
Alex's face is oddly blissful, eyes half-lidded and dark, lips reddened and swollen. Sweat beads across his forehead, and he looks pale, and Yassen wonders what, exactly, was in that injection.
"Alex, can you hear me? Can you stand?"
A confused frown creases the boy's brow, and he blinks a few times, looking as though he's trying to focus.
"Yas-Yassen?" he murmurs, weakly.
"Yes," no time for prevarication, "can you stand up?"
"Yassen," the boy smiles as he says the name this time, an odd sort of smile, "you were dead. And then you weren't." He looks up, head tilted quizzically. "Aren't you supposed to do that the other way around?"
"That is the more normal way of things, yes. Alex, we don't have time for this, can you stand? Can you walk?"
"Probably," he shifts, leans forward, his hands stretching out to the floor for balance, going on all fours for a moment before he kneels up. Yassen stands, offering a hand to help him the rest of the way, and Alex looks up at him from where he kneels, and smiles again. "Not sure I want to though. Like it down here."
His hands are suddenly busy but clumsy on Yassen's belt, and for a moment he's so stunned by this he can't move, can't think, but soon enough sanity returns and he slaps the hands away.
"Alex, no!"
The mere thought disturbs him. He knew this boy's father, before he was born, loved him like a brother, a comrade. He's known Alex since he was fourteen, since he was a child. He's seen him grow and mature into the young man he is now, and he is not blind to the way his own feelings for Alex have matured along with him. But even if the pressure of time was not on him, to let him do something like this, under the influence of the drugs...
Over his lifetime, he has done many things that could be regarded as wrong. He has killed many, without remorse. And yet still he has always had a moral code, twisted though it might be. When he kills, he kills quickly and cleanly, he does not torture, or rape. To do to Alex what his employer has already done would be evil, dirty, worse than wrong.
Pulling his hands away, Alex pouts up at him, and something in his stomach tightens at the sight of that full lower lip, stuck out in an expression of extreme disappointment. He tells himself to be thankful he knows about the drug. If he thought that Alex wanted this of his own accord, that he was in his right mind, he knows he wouldn't be able to resist.
"Come," he grabs one of the hands that are sneaking up again as though he won't notice them, and tugs firmly, bringing Alex to his feet, though he stumbles the moment he's upright, and Yassen has to grab him to keep him from falling.
A mistake, he realises immediately, as now Alex is pressed against him, his smile back. And he can't let him go or he'll fall again. | e598a44166684b22a30680a836b4a65c | ['e2f65865a0d048e2a80201917762aa89'] | Leaning in close, he spoke, low and dark, into Sam's ear.
"I think you'll find, my lovely Sammy-boy, that's _my_ job," and he moved his hand to cover Sam's, pushing it aside and wrapping his fingers around the familiar hardness, "you filthy-mouthed little tart."
"Ghni!" said Sam, or something like it, before giving voice to what Gene could only describe as a wail, his cock pulsing against Gene's palm, and slumping forward to pant damply against his skin.
The bones of Sam's spine were knobbly under Gene's fingertips as he explored the planes of his back. There were gentle fingers stroking his hips, and he felt an even more gentle kiss against his chest.
"All right," Sam broke the peaceful silence between them at last, "let me up, my knees are fucking killing me."
With a laugh, Gene dragged Sam to his feet, brushing aside the eye-wateringly filthy collection of photos that had built up beside him to make room for them to sit side by side on the bed.
"Hey!" Sam protested, gathering up the little squares with great care, "do you mind?" he paused in his tidying to stare at one of the photos of Gene, hunger in his eyes.
Silencing the complaint with a kiss, trying to ignore how vulnerable the mere existence of that photo made him, thinking of the beauty in his arms and captured in the other photos for his enjoyment, Gene reflected that, almost unbelievably, he didn't mind. He didn't mind this at all.
**Author's Note:**
> Technical Note: The camera I had in mind for Gene to have purchased is the Polaroid LINK. Released in 1972, it would have been quite expensive, but it was very popular during the 70s, so it would have been easily available.
>
> As an interesting side note, a clockwork self-timer could be purchased for the SX-70, an accessory that I'm sure the boys would have considered investing in once they realised it was available, and Sam had pointed out all the possibilities it would open up ;D |
9a71f468eed6433aa0be7bf323c84cc4 | ['e3011d0466b34aec87e0246bc4acc916'] |
Darcy Falls in Love and Gets a Crush on Bruce (in Exactly That Order)
**Author's Note:**
* For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).
> Happy (belated) birthday to our dearest Elise, who requested Bruce/Darcy + spring + dogs.
Darcy Lewis is a person who is passionate about many things, and dogs definitely fall into the category of Things Darcy is Passionate About.
Really though, who isn’t?
Ever since that pet shop caught on fire while they were saving the world that one time, Darcy has worried about dogs. And cats too, and other small fluffy things - Darcy doesn’t discriminate against small fluffy things, and she wouldn’t want the fish or reptiles to perish either (although honestly she might not cry about the tarantulas, no matter how many times she’s been told that they make great pets). Every time a square block of Manhattan gets blown up or ripped apart or whatever in the latest crisis, Darcy spends a significant chunk of her time worrying that there might be dogs in the line of fire.
She can’t help it. She knows the Avengers do a pretty damn good job of looking out for civilians, but they can’t be everywhere, and not everyone is as worried about dogs as she is when there are dinosaurs storming the city.
To be fair, the dinosaurs were pretty important, too.
Sometimes, when the villain of the week is local, Darcy is on the team that heads down to the combat zone to collect the Avengers. They often have to be pried away from whatever they’ve wrecked, particularly Steve, who is so determined to make himself useful that he’ll go until he drops without an intervention. Darcy considers it her unofficial responsibility to gently remind them that they need to eat a real meal and get eight hours of sleep, and that there will still be plenty to help with tomorrow.
This time, though, things go slightly differently, because in the approximately twenty feet between the helicarrier and where the Avengers have regrouped, Darcy manages to encounter a dog.
In her defense, the dog is gigantic - and white and fluffy, so it was kind of impossible to miss. She’s never been that good with dog breeds, but she thinks it might be some kind of Great Pyrenees mix. Her grandma had had one of those when she was growing up, and it had been big enough for her to ride. Not that her grandma had ever let her - she’d always insisted it would be too hard on the old dog’s back and hips, and in hindsight she was right - but it had left a lasting impression on little Darcy.
She swears she didn’t plan on taking this one home with her, but one thing led to another (finding the dog led to her petting the dog which led to her looking around for the dog’s owner which led to her figuring out the the poor thing wasn’t gonna be claimed any time soon which led to her insisting that she could not possibly leave it wandering around the streets by itself and she knew the local shelters were going to be at full capacity like they usually were right after an Incident, so the only logical solution was to just take it home with her).
The Avengers (Darcy only calls them that because it’s too difficult to specify each one individually), excepting Bruce, for some reason she can’t really figure out, forbid her from naming it before she even sets foot back on the helicarrier, huge fluffy pup in tow.
“No,” says Tony flatly, taking one look at it. “Take an ad out in the papers, Darce, find its owner. And don’t even think about naming it, you know you’ll get too attached. Besides, that thing probably sheds more than Thor.”
“It’s not like you do the vacuuming!” Darcy shouts at his retreating back, but he just flips the bird at her and keeps walking away.
“Well that’s just too damn bad, isn’t it, sweet pea,” she says to the dog, and then grins as she realizes she’s already broken the rules.
Sweet Pea lives up to her name; she is very sweet, and very quiet. There is no reason at all that anyone should not want her living in the building, thinks Darcy. Except allergies. She could make an exception for allergies, because allergies are terrible. Also maybe the hair problem. She feels a bit bad sometimes because Pepper has to buy three times as many lint rollers now, and Darcy knows it’s mostly Sweet Pea’s fault. Otherwise, though, she’s determined that Sweet Pea will win the Avengers over. It’s not like any of them are tough enough to resist a cute fluffy dog.
She does as Tony says though, and takes out an ad in the paper - after all, if Sweet Pea did belong to someone, she wouldn’t want to keep their dog. She not-so-secretly hopes that no one will answer the ad, and after a week, no one has, and she’s not-so-secretly delighted.
“We’re still not keeping her,” says Tony, crossing his arms over his chest. They’ve called an informal “family meeting” to address the issue of Sweet Pea (by “they” she means “Tony,” because Tony likes to think that owning Avengers Tower means he gets to call the shots - he’s wrong). Tony is the only one who has strong opinions on the matter; Pepper likes her, even though her suit has dog hair all over it, Steve can’t resist anything that likes to be petted, Thor wants Darcy to be happy, and Clint likes dogs anyways. Natasha is neutral, but not opposed, as long as Darcy keeps the dog out of her suite. Darcy had pegged her for a cat person, anyways (eventually she finds out that Nat’s more of a snake person, which makes a lot of sense).
“What’ve you got against dogs?” Darcy drawls, giving Tony a Look. | c04a1a42c7d04da1b64aa886ac21c171 | ['e3011d0466b34aec87e0246bc4acc916'] | “Yeah,” he says urgently. “Yeah, yeah. Okay. What for?” He frowns. “Okay. Be there ASAP. Take care of yourself, Nat.”
He stands up.
“Natasha wants us back in DC, Sam,” he says grimly. “She wouldn’t say why, just says she needs to meet us.”
“Well,” Sam says. “We’d better get going.”
They book the soonest flights out of the Eugene airport and Sam sells his little green Prius at the dealership in town, completely ignoring Steve’s protests (“I can buy another car, Steve.”)
By the next day, they’re back in DC and Natasha is picking them up at the airport, raising her eyebrow at their mode of travel.
“You know if you’d called Stark he would have sent you a jet, right?”
Steve shrugs. “You said it wasn’t life or death urgent, so I figured we wouldn’t bother him.” He won’t admit it to Natasha, but he hadn’t been entirely comfortable asking Tony for a favor of that magnitude, even if it would have been nothing to him.
Natasha refuses to talk about her reasons for meeting them until they’re sitting in the kitchen at Sam’s place, crowded around the tiny table.
“Barnes contacted me,” she says without any preamble. “He wants me to tell you that he’s safe, and that you should stop looking for him. When he’s ready, he’ll come to you.”
Steve’s silent for a long, terrible minute.
“He wanted me to be sure you know,” continues Natasha, softly, “that it’s not your fault. He _will_ come to you, Steve. He just needs time.”
Steve nods. His throat is too tight; he doesn’t trust himself to say anything, so he just nods.
“Okay,” he finally manages to whisper.
He desperately wants to be alone, so he retreats to the guest bedroom and closes the door and leans against it for a moment. He crosses to the window and looks out onto DC, wondering if Bucky is out there, somewhere. That’s too overwhelming, so he sits on the bed and stares at his hands.
He has no idea how much time passes, but eventually someone knocks on the door.
“Come in,” he answers without really thinking, and then Natasha slips into the room and sits down next to him.
“Hey,” she says, bumping his upper arm with her shoulder. He forgets how small she is, sometimes.
“Hey,” he says back. He tries to smile but it feels wrong so he sighs instead.
She nudges his shoulder again. “You okay?”
He shrugs.
She shrugs too. “I know that seems like kind of a pointless question, but it’s the thing to say, right?”
He glances at her and realizes that she’s trying it - being a friend. He smiles for real this time.
“Guess so,” he agrees. “Got a couple questions for you.”
“I figured you would.” Nat’s smiling too, the small, secretive kind. “Fire away, Cap.”
“I’ll start with the obvious one. How is he?” Steve asks. Natasha is silent for a moment, chewing on her lip.
“I think he’s as good as we can hope for him to be,” she finally says. “He seems fine. Uninjured, you know. Clearly found some new clothes and someplace to take a shower.” She hesitates. “He seems to remember some things at least. Seemed a little stressed, to be honest, but he said he was okay. I believe him, Steve.”
Steve nods, scrubbing at his face with his hand. “If you believe him, I believe you,” he says, although it feels like a colossal effort.
She nods, resting a hand on his knee.
“Okay. Question two.” Steve takes a deep breath. “Why did he come to you?”
Natasha tenses up, almost imperceptible if Steve hadn’t known her. “He said he wasn’t ready to see you yet,” she says, which is what she already told him.
“I know,” says Steve. “I guess… I can kind of understand why. I mean, considering the last time we met.” He winces. “But that’s not what I meant.”
Natasha considers him solemnly. “What did you mean, then?” she asks.
“Why you, specifically?”
Natasha doesn’t answer him; Steve’s about to say something when she finally clears her throat.
“The Winter Soldier and I...had a history. Our encounter in Odessa wasn’t the only time I met him.” She pauses. “I’d rather not talk about it. But I believe he may have memories of the Black Widow, and if I had to guess, that, combined with my association with you, and our shared experiences,” she says it as though the words taste sour, “led him to contact me.”
“He trusts you to understand why he doesn’t want me trying to find him.”
“Something like that,” agrees Natasha.
“Why didn’t you say something before? About...knowing him.”
“Really, Steve,” Natasha rolls her eyes, but she smiles at him too, wryly. “He tried to kill Nick. I didn’t want to put more on the table than was necessary.”
“Fair enough,” says Steve, shrugging.
“Does that answer your questions?” Natasha asks.
“Yeah,” says Steve.
“Good,” says Natasha decisively, “because I don’t want to talk about Bucky Barnes anymore. I bet you’ve done nothing else for weeks. I want to talk about you. How are you?”
“Better.” She raises an eyebrow at him disbelievingly. “Yeah. I mean, you know, a little.” He looks at her accusingly. “You’ve been talking to Sam.”
Natasha shrugs. “He was worried about you,” she says matter-of-factly. “We both were.”
“I can take care of myself, you know.”
Natasha snorts. “Yeah, I know,” she says. “As long as you’d stop destroying government agencies for five minutes.”
“That was one time,” Steve protests, trying not to laugh. It’s too late; he’s got a terrible poker face and Natasha is already giggling.
“How bout you?” he asks when the laughter has died down. “You done anything exciting lately? Torn down government agencies, rescued undercover agents in distress….” |
9bc9351f226949a29aa09a179c1d7cef | ['e31e7007b50740d59b3d74b38d04b501'] | Kaya smiles at her in an infuriatingly knowing way at her, slides off the bed and with two steps is standing in front of Megan, looking rather smug. "It's okay, I won't tell." She presses a finger against her lips, mockingly.
"Christ," Megan says, and moves towards her bed, sitting down on the edge of it. "You must be on something."
Kaya sits down beside her, presses a kiss to her shoulder; Megan flinches, pulls away quickly. Kaya frowns, says, "Come on, don't be disagreeable." She doesn't sound angry at all, just bored, like this is an every day sort of thing for her. "There's nothing wrong in having a bit of fun, yeah? We'll get fucked up and fuck."
"I'm not fucking you," Megan says flatly, trying not to think about Kaya's fingers tracing small circles on the small of her back; her shirt suddenly seems remarkably thin. "So could you please just -- "
She's cut off by Kaya leaning in and kissing her. It's the softest, slowest kiss she can ever remember having, with anyone; Kaya sucks lightly on her bottom lip before pulling away, looking very much pleased with herself. "You liked that," she says, very matter of fact, and Megan resists the urge to roll her eyes, because Christ.
"Well, alright, yes," she mutters, looking down at her hands.
Kaya kisses her ear, before shifting, and suddenly she's straddling Megan, cupping her face in her hands and kissing her again, and Megan thinks, she looks much frailer than she is, because Kaya is kissing her hard enough to bruise her lips. It goes on forever, the kiss; when Kaya pulls away, looking a bit flushed, Megan pulls her back in.
She really should not be doing this, she thinks, as she allows Kaya to press her back down onto the bed and, still straddling her, undo the buttons on her navy blue blouse, with a clearly practiced ease. She thinks about maybe pushing Kaya off her, telling her to go fuck off, because this is not who she is. She's not _Kathryn_ , she doesn't just fuck any girl who looks at her for more than five minutes, not the kind of girl who fucks someone because they're horny and pathetically in love with someone who doesn't even give her the time of day.
Kaya opens her mouth as if to say something, fingers hovering over the buckle of Megan's belt, poised to undo it, and Megan shakes her head violently, says, "Don't talk," and Kaya grins and keeps going.
"Fuck," she murmurs, when, jeans and shirt and underclothes are off and lying discarded on the floor, Kaya slips a hand between her thighs and presses two fingers into her. She's so wet, almost embarrassingly so, but fuck, it has been far too long since she's done this, has spent most of the year wanking off about Lily Loveless, and Kaya's fingers are right _there_ and she knows exactly what to do, it seems.
Kaya smirks, takes one of Megan's nipples into her mouth, sucking hard, working it with her tongue, and Megan groans and tangles her fingers in Kaya's hair, wanting more. Kaya kisses her roughly, kisses her way down Megan's stomach, not once stopping or slowing the movements of her hand.
She kisses the inside of Megan's thigh and slips one of Meg's legs over her shoulder before pressing her tongue flat against Meg's clit. Meg lets out a strangled "Jesus," and digs her heel into Kaya's back, as Kaya's tongue moves in quick, sharp strokes against her.
It's so wrong, all of this, letting herself be fucked here in the hotel room she shares with Kathryn, not even on her own fucking _bed_ for fuck's sake, while her sister and Lily are out doing God knows what; she knows Kat well enough to think, if only for a fleeting moment, that she's probably got Lily pinned to the wall in the dark corner of some club, kissing her recklessly.
"It's okay," Kaya says all of a sudden, and Megan looks down at her, at her lips and chin shiny with wetness and suddenly feels ridiculously embarrassed.
"What," she manages.
"If you want to pretend I'm her," Kaya says, and fucking hell, her fingers have not stopped _once_ and it's pathetic how she's still arching her hips into Kaya's hand. "It's okay, I don't mind."
"Fuck off," Megan says weakly, not even being able to keep her eyes open, with what Kaya's hands are doing to her; two fingers inside her, two more on her clit, stroking slowly but purposefully.
Kaya shrugs, replaces her fingers with her mouth, tongue working roughly, and Megan clutches at the sheets with one hand, while gripping Kaya's head with the other, edging her on further and further, and fuck, she's _so close_ ; Kaya surely knows, from the way she slows her movements, and Megan lets out a small cry of frustration, desperately seeking release.
Kaya moves upward, kisses her aggressively, propping herself up on her elbow and knees; her hand snakes between both their bodies, fingers sliding against Megan's clit, and it's much too much, tasting herself on Kaya's tongue, the way her hair falls into her eyes, such a brilliant blue that reminds Meg of --
She comes, hard, shuddering and digging her nails into Kaya's shoulder, hard enough so that when Kaya pulls away a few moments later, she can see little crescent shaped marks, a dull red color in stark contrast with Kaya's pale skin.
"So," Kaya says, after a good long while, when Megan's finally managed to catch her breath.
"So fucking what?" Megan stares up at the ceiling, refuses to look at her.
A pause. "So nothing," Kaya says, after a bit, doesn't seem offended at all that Meg's being such a bitch to her after fucking her good and proper. Then, "I guess you were wrong."
"What?" | 88a35089d59348f4aa6ebe6da967af39 | ['e31e7007b50740d59b3d74b38d04b501'] | They're different, Lily thinks, when she wakes up in the middle of the night and sees Megan on the bed next to hers, the covers half kicked off, one arm wrapped possessively around a pillow. She's noticed the differences before, of course, but they somehow seem more pronounced now; there is the curve of Megan's hip, rounder than Kat's, the stark contrast of dark hair on white sheets, the way her top bunches up around her stomach, just under her breasts.
(The way she looks so small while sleeping, the softness of her skin, the slope of her neck, the fullness of her cheeks, the arch of her calves. It makes her both desperately miss Kat and long to curl up beside Megan at the same time.)
She's not sure what to do with that sort of thinking, so she heads off to the bathroom and splashes her face with cold water, running a shaky hand through her hair. Crawling back into bed, she grabs her phone off the nightstand and sends Kat a text: _i miss you_. She doesn't worry about waking Kathryn up, because Kat probably hasn't even come home yet, is probably off at some club getting pissed and flirting a bit too much with every pretty girl she spots.
(It should bother her more, she thinks, and then decides that it's probably worrisome that it _doesn't_.)
Megan sighs in her sleep, rolling over; Lily watches the way her hair tumbles along her back, shoulders.
;;
When she slips a hand down the front of her knickers, later, still unable to sleep, she ends up staring at Megan's back -- that dark purple-red hair, the pale shoulders -- and thinking about what it would be like to run her finger down the length of Megan's spine, to feel Megan shiver beneath her touch.
(She forces herself to think of Kathryn right before she comes, if only to feel less guilty later.)
;;
Kat misses Lily more than she can bear, sometimes.
;;
There's a moment, when, sitting side by side outside on a bench outside the studio and smoking, Lily's hand accidentally brushes against Megan's own. Something like electricity sparks through her then and she snaps her hand away quickly, her heart beating double-time in her chest.
(Lily seems to not notice, just pauses before flicking her fag away and standing up, heading back inside.)
;;
"Well," Lily says once the week is over and Megan's packing her clothes away in her small green suitcase, carefully folding up tops and skirts and pairs of jeans. "That was fun, wasn't it?"
"Except for Tuesday night when you somehow convinced me that it would be completely alright if we polished off a bottle of vodka on our own and we stayed out until three o'clock in the morning before having to get up at six for make-up," Megan grins; Lily smiles in return. "Aside from that, it was fun, yeah."
They're quiet for a bit.
Then Lily says, in an off-hand sort of way, "I was thinking, you know, why we don't hang out more."
"Because," Megan says, working very hard to keep her voice flat and even. "Because you have Kathryn."
;;
They part ways at the London station.
Megan glances back at Lily over her shoulder, watches the way Lily pulls out her mobile, the way a smile breaks across her face when she looks down at the screen. It makes her heart knot up unexpectedly; it's not until she gets outside that she's able to breathe again.
;;
"Come here," Kathryn says, reaching forward and knitting her fingers in Lily's jumper, pulling her in. Lily's arms fall around Kat's waist as Kat stands on tiptoe and kisses her softly. Kathryn tastes like cigarettes and coffee and Lily can feel Kat's hands on the back of her neck, warm and soft and strong.
"Hello," Lily says with a small smile, pulling away a bit to catch her breath. "I'm back."
"I really fucking missed you," Kat mumbles, while her hands move to Lily's belt, undoing it swiftly, before tugging her in for another, rougher, kiss.
;;
Megan sits on the edge of Kathryn's bed and watches her sister pack.
"Have fun, alright?" she says, handing Kat a stack of messily folded blouses. "And try not to -- well, remember that this is actually _work_ that you're doing here, so try and retain some measure of professionalism. And don't like, get yourself -- or Lily, for fuck's sake, she's far too impressionable -- into any trouble."
"Honestly, Megan," Kat says, rolling her eyes.
"Well, I'm just saying," Megan picks at the corner of Kathryn's blanket, looks at the wall above Kathryn's pillows, at the small _l+k_ written over the lower left hand corner in red ink and handwriting too pretty to be Kat's own. "Just be careful, okay?"
;;
(So, so, different, Lily thinks, crawling into bed with Kathryn in Bristol, feeling warm skin beneath her palms and smelling strawberries, when she noses the hair away from Kat's neck and presses a kiss to the space there.)
;;
When Megan calls her, it comes as a surprise.
"Hello," Meg says, then rushes into an explanation: Kat's away filming with Merv, and maybe if Lily's not too busy, they could go out to a club or whatever -- just hang out, because like Lily herself said, they never actually spend any time alone together.
"Alright," Lily says agreeably, and makes plans to meet her the following night.
;;
Kathryn loves this song, Megan thinks, as it comes on over the speakers while she's downing her seventh shot and waiting for Lily to come back from the the toilets. And then she thinks about how nothing in her life is her own; it all belongs to Kat, every part of it.
(She can't have one thing for herself, ever.) |
309679aa7c6746ed9f200c34a301a678 | ['e32b54ff39914393b1462cd9f7c608e4'] | The many Lightwood New employees run out, including his brother and sister, thanking him, which causes him to smile. Everyone has departed the floor, except Magnus. Magnus runs out the door, grabbing him by the shoulders.
"My friend Alec was taken by Valentine! He was out here and then—" Alec stops him placing a finger on his lips. Alec doesn't know what to do. He can't tell Magnus that he is Alec, or that Alec is Red Archer.
He makes the mistake of saying, "I'm sure he's fine." Magnus is in tears now, holding onto him stronger," No, you don't understand! Alec is my best friend!" Magnus' words cause an ache in Alec's heart.
"I'll go look for him." Attempts Alec.
"Thank you!" Says Magnus.
Alec head for the stairs. He reaches for the handle, when he hears," Wait!"
The Archer turns to face Magnus. Magnus grabs his covered hand. "Is there anyway I can get an interview with you?" asks Magnus.
"Sorry, hmm— I —I don't uh know if I—humming can." Alec says, almost like a question. Alec rushes for the door when Magnus roughly grabs his glove again. Magnus holds his hand and runs him back into the filming room. Magnus rushes them to one of the various desks, reaching inside. The glittery man pulls out a pen. Magnus scribbles something on his glove. All Alec can think is,' Literally I have a new suit for a day and I already get it dirty. Just great.'
Magnus gets on his tip toes and kissing him on his masked cheek. "My hero", whispers Magnus. The man then escapes down the stairs like the rest of the employees. Alec brings his hand to his face where Magnus kissed him, and the looks at his hand. Scrawled in Magnus' perfect handwriting, it says,'In case you change your mind. Call me. 917-224-1664. I'll be dreaming of you. XX- Magnus Bane'
Alec runs down the stairs, out the door, and to his motorbike. He's not one to avoid people, but when he sees Magnus taking pictures of it, he thinks it's best. Alec's plan is working out well, until Magnus spots him instead. He has to talk.
"Hi" says Magnus.
"Do you need a ride home?" Rushes out Alec, inwardly face palming himself.
"It's fine, no need." Magnus says coyly.
"I insist", says Alec.
I'll take you up on that then." Says Magnus. "But I'm driving."
Alec really should say no, because his dad would kill him if he trashed his bike today too, but Alec couldn't bring himself to do it. Alec tosses Magnus the helmet. "Hop on." Says Magnus with a smirk.
TIME JUMP: 20 MINS LATER
The pair rides to Magnus' apartment building about 10 blocks away. "Would you like to come up for drinks?" Says Magnus. "I really shouldn't." Says Alec.
"I insist", Magnus says, mimicking Alec from earlier. Alec giggles, causing a flush to spread across both of their faces. There is realization in Magnus' eyes, causing Alec to worry, but it leaves too fast to be explored. "Please, just stay for one drink. If you wanna leave after that, be my guest." Says Magnus.
This is another time where Alec just can't bring himself to say no to Magnus, so he follows the man up the stairs of his apartment building.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hope you guys like it! I couldn't bring myself to edit, and I really wanted to get the chapter out, so sorry about the numerous errors probably within the chapter. As always, XOXO, Alex
3. Chapter 3
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> First kisses. Sorry if this doesn't make one bit of sense. I was tired but had the urge to write. So yeah there are most likely a BUNCH OF MISTAKES IN CHAPTER 3. FORGOVE MEEEEE. If it's legible to anyone, hope you few like it. XX
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Disclaimer: All characters belong to Cassandra Clare.
>
> IM SORRY THIS CHAPTER WAS TRASH K BYE I TRIED SMUT BUT I DONT THINK IT WORKED AHHHH.
Magnus and The Archer entered the apartment.
Magnus approached a cart holding various types of alcohol. The shimmering man poured something clear into two a martini glasses. Magnus reached into a pot on the table, and pulled something out and sprinkled it into the cup. Alec looked at Magnus in confusion.
"Edible glitter." Magnus said with a smirk. Alec was handed the glass.
* * *
•M
Magnus said, "Cheers!" Magnus couldn't believe he had THE RED ARCHER in HIS APARTMENT! The man was legitimately shaking.
'Why is he getting to me so much?' Thought Magnus."Why did you invite me here?"questioned his savior."To get to know you better, of course." Said Magnus. "Well that'll be a little difficult since I'm not taking off my mask." Said Alec, a blush visible on his neck. "That's quite alright", says Magnus cheerily. "How about that interview?" He asks. "Uhmm I—I okay.", says the Archer. Magnus gets up giddily to grab his laptop. He scampers into his bedroom, may or may not adding an extra swing to his hips. It's sitting on his desk under a huge poster of The Red Archer, causing Magnus to blush. He runs back to the living room to find the hero seated on his couch lazily. Magnus holds up one finger, and goes to the kitchen to fetch snacks. He feels the Archer's eyes on his back, so he looks over his shoulder and sends a wink to the man in red. The Red Archer blushes once more. Magnus now feels a bit more confident.
He grabs a bag of sour patch kids, and moves to the couch, taking a seat in the lap of the man clad in leather. The Archer immediately tenses, so Magnus looks at him alarmed, wondering if he misread the situation. Magnus realizes this is not the case, when the other grabs his waist in repositions him in his lap, letting Magnus lean against his hard chest. Magnus practically swoons then and there. From this position both The Archer and Magnus have a perfect view of his computer. Magnus lifts top, only to have both of them blush when he realizes a picture of The Red Archer is his wallpaper as well. "A—ii—" The Archer shushes Magnus, placing an upright finger on his lips. "Question one." Magnus says with a gasp. "What drove you to becoming a superhero?" Asks Magnus. "Uhmm—I think—I think it was this time Is— my si—one of my family members got-erm-got groped in public. I tried to protect them- ah fuck it, her, and punched the guy in the throat. I had a strong punch even then, so the guy had to be taken to the hospital. I was then considered "dangerous", and no one wanted to hangout with me. I didn't want anything like what happened with my sister to happen to anyone else, except I couldn't have another offense on my record.. That's how I became The Red Archer." The hero finished, gasping for air. The muscular man swearing sets Magnus' gut ablaze, as he finishes typing Alec's statement. He's about to go back and proofread, when he looks up and meets the superhero's eyes. "Sorry for getting so into it, you know?" The Archer says, sucking a deep breath of air, taking in a big whiff of Magnus' cologne.
* * *
The Archer gets lost in Magnus; his cologne, his hair, his everything. "Mag-gnus" Alec whimpers, causing Magnus to groan. Magnus' mouth was agape. Magnus abruptly states," That's That—" Magnus never really noticed just how attractive the masked hero was. Of course he knew he was hot, but he realized this angel was otherworldly. Sharp jawline, swirling hazels, much like his friend Alec's. Magnus leaned in to get a closer look at the man. Magnus felt the room getting heated, both men staring into each other's eyes. Neither wanting to break away, Magnus eyes gaze down to the Archer's lips peaking out from below his nose. The masked hero's tongue flicks out quickly, causing Magnus to groan once again. Magnus sees a clump of glitter in the corner of the Archer's mouth. "You got a little ah-" Magnus says lifting his thumb to press whole against his savior's mouth. Magnus looks back and forth from the Archer's lips to his eyes and back again. 'Wow, I really want to lick it away', thinks Magnus. So that's exactly what he does.
Magnus smashes his mouth against The Red Archer's. He hears his hero whine and moan, only spurring him on. Magnus pushes his tongue against the Archer's mouth, prompting him to open his lips, and he complies. Their tongues meet and the pair leans against the arm of the sofa, desperate for more connection. Magnus puckers his lips and breaks away, causing the man in the mask to pout, and then blush. Magnus takes the computer out of his lap, runs to his bedroom, practically throws his computer down on his bed, desperate to feel his hero's mouth on his. He glides back into the living room only to find his Archer at the door. His smile shifts into a frown, eyes searching his Archer's.
"I can't do this Magnus." Says the Archer in a raspy voice. He continues," I'll never be able to reavel who I am, and you deserve more than just a fling. You're sweet and kind, and I'm just, well, me. So, I'm Sorry Magnus. For everything." Says the Archer. It may just be a trick of the light, but Magnus swears he sees a tear fall from the taller man's eyes.
Magnus gets on his toes for more height, and places open mouth kisses on his Archer's eyes on top of the mask, covered cheek, and his mouth. The Archer opens the door into the hallway. However, before he can leave, Magnus wraps his arms around his leather angel from behind, hugging him. Something inside Magnus is telling him to call after him as the Archer slips through his doorway. But soon enough, his Archer is gone.
**Author's Note:**
> Hope you guys enjoyed! Comment if you liked it! Maybe that'll motivate me to finish chapter 2! SMH (again) | 12373f3784864d37af80cb1e041f91e9 | ['e32b54ff39914393b1462cd9f7c608e4'] |
AirDrop
Alexander Lightwood was having a horrible day. The early 20 year old had been sent to various restaurants that day, to sample food for his blog. " _Lightwood Culinary & Co_", Alec's pride and joy, was a site on which he reviewed practically anywhere you could purchase a cooked meal. The blog started on Tumblr, having around 600 followers. That is, until a review of his went viral. Alec's Tumblr kept crashing because it was getting so many reblogs, likes, and overall views per day. He had to purchase a domain and started updating daily so he could stay relevant. Because of his website's popularity, the chefs he visited knew who he was, and he was treated like a king. Normally, spending a day tasting delicious meals and getting waited on like a celebrity was a dream come true. However, today, Alec had ventured out to a sports bar in manhattan called Taki's. He went in knowing it had mixed reviews, so he kept an open mind. The food wasn't horrible, but it definitely wasn't anything to brag over.
His open mind concept went completely out the window, when about two blocks away from the entrance to the subway he vomited up his entire meal. He vaguely remembered seeing bright pink meat on his supposedly "medium rare" burger. Alec wasn't a people person to begin with, so he definitely didn't want to risk upchucking all over 20+ people going home from work on a 7 PM subway train. Thus promoting Alec to order an uber from his phone.
He thanked the gods when his car finally arrived, 20 minutes later. Alec still felt nauseous getting into the white Subaru. He greeted the driver, and gave the woman his address. Alec stretched out against the leather clad back seat, and rolled down the window to get some air. He wasn't one to trash a restaurant, but he was definitely going to include about how the burger made him sick in his review. _I might as well start writing now_.Thought Alec, knowing good and well there was at least 30 minutes of traffic ahead of him. He opens the notes app on his iPhone, and started typing away.
* * *
Alec is knocked out of his thoughts, when he hears the woman at the wheel of the car honk the horn loudly. They were now on a high way, so the amount of traffic was less brutal. He doesn't to see anything through the windshield, so Alec turns to look through the back window, to see a red car swerving through the lanes, without using a turn signal. The red car catches up to the vehicle he is in, and Alec prepares to use his resting bitch face to glare at the side window of the car. Alec was not expecting for said window to roll down. Upon seeing the passenger of the death machine, Alec's pupils promptly dilate.
The man in the car was the most gorgeous man Alec has ever seen, and he's seen plenty of guys in his 22 years on this earth. He has his silky looking black hair swept up, with the sides of his head lightly shaven. The beautiful man is wearing a red wine button down, but the top isn't buttoned, giving Alec a marvelous view of the man's well built chest. This caused Alec to ferociously blush and look down. He looks back up to see the man clearly checking him out making him blush again. The man winks, and if Alec isn't imagining it, he hears a faint giggle from the car beside him. _Who gets turned on in the back of a fucking uber_. Thinks Alec.
Alec glances away from the man to steal a look at the windshield, feeling his sudden good mood drain away when he sees his uber veering left towards his exit. Alec groans, causing his driver to give him a look of pity. Alec begins moping as the car turns onto the exit, and promptly gasps when the hot man's car turns on the exit as well. Alec feels butterflies in his stomach, and it's not just from the food poising. The red car returns to his side, and the beautiful man seems very engrossed in his phone. Alec thinks to himself, " It's not like you'll ever see this man again, you haven't even spoken it him!" Alec's point is proven, when the man rolls up the window. Alec knew it was too good to be true. He rolls his up as well, feeling a weight on his chest.
The car is about 10 minutes away from his destination when he sees the same red car from before is still trailing them. Alec ducks his head. He knows it doesn't make sense to mope over a stranger, but he can't help it. He's been in a dry spell for over 6 months, and he can count the amount of times he'd been flirted with in one hand. Alec's hazel eyes train on his phone as he continues to write the review of Taki's, when he receives an airdrop alert from a certain Magnus Bane. Confused, Alec accepts the airdrop and the picture is transported to his photos. It's a screenshot from notes.
_"Magnus Bane" wants to share a photo._ |
62d2ee757b254843ac671cb11a5ad8f2 | ['e336b7b7c3b8456b93f379d8de4979dd'] | leave the soul alone
**Author's Note:**
> Title from Bones by MsMr. Heed the trigger warnings.
_Titles were purple. Definitions were green. Names were blue. Dates were red. Details were black. Locations were orange._
Grantaire was white light – nothing and everything, there and not-there, a clean space between scribblish handwriting and coffee stains that let him breathe. He was a ghost but a hand on his own shaking wrist, eyes that chose not to see but watched anyway.
_Six am to seven am – morning jog. Seven thirty am to nine am – political science theory study. Nine am to twelve pm – economics revision. Twelve pm to_
There are three precise taps on his door and he knows exactly what will happen within the next minute without looking up from his notes. Grantaire will wait a few moments, then curse under his breath and scramble around in his jeans for the spare key he was given after last time. Then he’ll enter the apartment, smelling of paint and apprehension, chest rising and falling staccato because _he knows_. Grantaire, innately, knows.
If Enjolras was breathing normally he’d shake his head fondly and murmur his thanks.
_Next assessment is worth 20% of the overall grade for the semester therefore you must achieve at least 98.8 in order to gain a satisfactory grade and if you don’t get a satisfactory grade we’ll have to do something we’re not proud of, Enjolras._ You’ll _have to do something_ he _can’t be proud of._
Tea is simple to make and easy to drink and it’s placed on top of his notes with a muted, definite thud _(isn’t that some kind of metaphor for his life – for fuck’s sake he’s turning into Prouvaire)_. Then his chair is being spun around and there is a smile – a soft, scared smile. He isn’t sure why there’s a smile when there should be a frown. Surely he’s being a disappointment? Because there are so many things he has to do and just enough time if he keeps to his schedule. But no, he’s sitting there, vulnerable to time, with ants crawling over his raw skin and a bird fluttering frantically against the prison bars of his ribs.
The smile falters. Enjolras understands why. He’s failing at the small things and soon that’ll turn into the big things and his life will crumble, piece by piece, shattering and falling and he’s flown too close to the sun so his wings are melting and it’s just
“Enjolras. Enjolras, breathe with me. Shh, it’ll be okay. Come on, in –" _one, two, three_ “and out. Yep, that’s it, you’re doing really well. Can you do another for me?”
His lungs rattle, his eyes open their shutters, and slowly Enjolras can see Grantaire crouched before him. There are moments where they breathe together, paced and constant, so exact that Enjolras finds a sense of calm within it all.
Grantaire’s smile is back after an indeterminable amount of time, a little less tentative and soft with relief. “Hello again,” he reaches out a hesitant hand, and when Enjolras nods, he places it on his knee and squeezes. “You want to talk about it?”
“Not really,” Enjolras replies, dropping his gaze. Now that the hot, heavy cotton wool has been torn away he feels an acute sense of shame. Grantaire bites his lip, seeing the worry returning to his partner’s eyes.
“Hey, it’s okay. Do you want to go outside for a sec, get some fresh air?”
He almost lets his protests scratch past his pursed lips – surely he can’t, because according to his schedule he has to continue writing his major essay and that’s something he _absolutely can’t miss_ , right?
But then Grantaire shifts his papers around and clears a path to where his assessment dates are written. _Essay – due 17 th September. _A month away.
Enjolras swallows. “Can we watch a movie or something?”
“Yeah, definitely,” Grantaire’s grin widens and he jumps to his feet, quickly making his way over to the bed and flopping onto it with as much grace as a blind seal. “What’ve you downloaded recently?”
And so it is that Enjolras can stack his notes neatly in the corner of his desk and forget they exist for two hours. He can afford to let himself go to time and let that white light chase away his doubt.
He can breathe. | 022ffe6f78a24ae6b47c8b882a3630cb | ['e336b7b7c3b8456b93f379d8de4979dd'] | the holy or the broken
**Author's Note:**
> quick note: my friend and I have the headcanon that Cecil once had a sister and inadvertently caused her death (à la Mary Winchester). there's a brief mention of it but really you don't need to know the full story for this to make sense. title is from Hallelujah (do I really have to specify a single singer?)
**0820**
There are three things you could sense: you could hear the still-dripping tap, you smelt the dampness soaking through the carpet, and you could still feel his phantom hand brush softly against your cheek as he fell.
It had been an hour. You hadn’t moved. Maybe if you stayed perfectly stationary the darkness would bless you with grace and blow air back into his heavy lungs.
You knew that soon his colleagues will call, worried and curious and ravenous for answers. If you could open your mouth and force your vocal cords to splutter out meaningless words, would you tell them the truth? Could you? Could you shift the ground beneath their feet and tell them he’s dead?
It’s a good question.
**0659**
The tap was still dripping from earlier.
“That’s not the _point_ , Cecil! Fucking hell, just –“
“Carlos –"
“No, I’ve got to get to work.”
“Carlos, listen to me! This posting, if you go, I can’t…”
“You can’t _what_?”
“You’re making me choose, Carlos. I can’t choose between you and Night Vale.”
“I don’t have time, Cecil. I’ve got to get to work.”
“Carlos, stop.”
“No—"
“Stop.”
Carlos stopped.
**0700**
You remembered the last time this happened. But while your sister burned so bright her spark consumed her young flesh, Carlos was like water surrounding your ears, muting the mania and cooling your blushed cheeks. Somehow, the water vanished from around you and rushed into his lungs.
The memory is sodden with panic. One moment you blazed with fury, the next he crouched before you, hands on his throat as water trickled from his gaping mouth. Within moments you were holding him, a feeble Pietà, both fallen to the ground. Though he could not speak with words ( _words were things you exchanged when you were okay and weren’t mad and still could breathe_ ), his eyes begged for compassion.
You remembered the last time this happened and know that mercy is not something you could control.
**0715**
_Drip. Drip. Drip._
His favourite lab coat was a gift from you. Pristine, white, and elaborately stitched, the fabric felt like ice as you pulled it off the deadweight that was its owner.
You wanted to keep this part of him. You had to keep it. They would take it away. You needed it; it had pen marks on the sleeves and an acid stain and it was _him_. You needed him.
**1023**
One of the interns came by your apartment. She lifted you to your feet, wiped away the streams that tumbled down your cheeks, and asked you if remember what happened.
Do you?
You shook your head.
She rubbed her thumb on your shoulder then disappeared down the hall to turn off the dripping tap. The water had run over the confines of the sink and fallen like rain onto the tiles below. When she opened the bathroom door the floor seemed to shift under her feet, cold water like ice reflecting the thin sunlight filtering through the tiny window. Within a few moments the tap was twisted and the sound was gone.
For the first time in hours, Cecil whimpered.
**0645**
_Carlos steps out of the bathroom and smiles down at Cecil, snuffling in his sleep. Though he seems at rest, it only takes a few moments for him to shoot up in bed, eyes wide and breath staccato._
_“Bad dream?” Carlos asks, bending down and kissing Cecil gently on the forehead._
_“Uh, yes,” Cecil coughs, shaking his head once as if to shake away the night terrors. He watches as Carlos dresses for the day, selecting his absurdly colourful tie from the rack and consulting Cecil as to which lab coat he should wear that day._
_Cecil grins at the wonderful monotony that has become his life. Domestic, happy, without the troubles of his past and stretching like the night’s sky to a wondrous infinity of peace._
You noticed the tap was dripping. |
17281bab15c340c8a7f31dd2b6c348bf | ['e34eee79c40744248ae3d4335bf3e37d'] |
A Prelude to Tragedy
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
Gruoch stood on the battlements of Inverness Castle as the column of soldiers marched off to meet Macdonwald's forces in battle. She hated it when Macbeth was away, and didn't much like watching the troops marching off into the Cairngorms until they vanished into the mist. But as the Thane's wife, she knew many people would be watching her. If she saw them off cheerfully, then the burghers of Inverness would be reassured.
Once she was sure they were out of sight, she walked round to look north up to Ben Wyvis, which was capped with snow. It was only the end of October, and that much snow on the tops already suggested it would be a hard winter to come. Still, the view down the line of the Ness was always calming somehow. In a few days, the first of Macbeth's letters would arrive, and in the mean time she would just have to contain herself in patience. No doubt news would arrive independently of her husband's prowess in battle. Somehow that didn't always help - being brave didn't seem likely to increase Macbeth's chances of coming home in one piece, and sometimes it seemed like maybe he enjoyed the slaughter a little more than was healthy. He was a good man, and a loving husband, but he became somewhat... distant? when talking about a battle he'd fought in, or when she was dressing his wounds.
By evening, it had become very cold, and a thick fog had rolled into Inverness. Gruoch didn't really want to leave the fire that burned brightly in the great hall, but it was the eve of All Saints', and the town's children would be out guising. She should be seen out and about, and give some of the more enterprising youngsters a few coins. Her tradition was also to visit the church, and light a candle for those she had lost. So she called for her cloak and a small purse, and headed out into the night with a lantern.
It was one of those cold still nights where the fog makes you feel almost entirely alone. The sounds of groups of children singing their guising songs were oddly distorted, so Gruoch was slightly startled when one group came within her lantern's radius.
> This ae nighte, this ae nighte,
> Every nighte and alle,
> Fire and fleet and candle-lighte,
> And Christe receive thy saule.
>
This group were suprisingly well made-up, with a grey pallor and curiously fixed expressions. Also, while they all sang treble, there was a strength and resonance to their voices that was surprising in young children.
> From Brig o' Dread when thou may'st pass,
> To Purgatory fire thou com'st at last;
>
> If ever thou gavest meat or drink,
> The fire sall never make thee shrink;
>
> If meat or drink thou ne'er gav'st nane,
> The fire will burn thee to the bare bane;
>
Gruoch was familiar with the English guising song, and its reminders of the duty to charity and hospitality, but there was something about the way these children sang it chilled her. As they continued, she pressed a few coins into their hands.
> This ae nighte, this ae nighte,
> Every nighte and alle,
> Fire and fleet and candle-lighte,
> And Christe receive thy saule.
>
It was almost as if the children dissolved into the mist as the final chorus faded away. Gruoch shivered a little, then walked further away from the castle towards St Michael's Mount where the church stood.
Perhaps it was the fog confusing her sense of time, or maybe it was just that she couldn't see the usual landmarks through the murk, but Gruoch was sure she should have reached the church by now. As it was, the buildings had thinned out and the ground was getting boggier. She was just thinking she should turn around and find the Ness to regain her bearings when she came across three women muttering to themselves. As she approached, they suddenly stopped talking, and turned to face her.
Maybe it was the light of her lantern reflected in the fog, but the three women, in strange ragged attire, had an unearthly look to them. The youngest-looking spoke first:
"Give us a coin, we'll give you the news"
"Give us no coin, we'll give you a curse"
"Give us three coins, we'll give you the truth"
"Who are you?" demanded Gruoch, "And why do you greet me thus?"
"You didn't ask the grave-children their names, did you?"
"We serve one lower than they, but are now higher than them"
"We'll tell you of greatness if you give us some coin"
They were clearly determined to get some money out of her, and Gruoch figured she might as well humour them. Somewhat irked, though, she flipped them exactly three coins. Still they spoke to her in turn from the youngest to eldest:
"We were like once, but that time is now passed"
"We were briefly alike, but you will abjure that time soon"
"Heed our advice, you'll ne'er be like me"
Given how hideous the last speaker was, this was intruiging. "What do you mean?"
"The Thane of Glamis is a good man, but yet he might be greater"
"The Thane of Cawdor is not a great man, but Macbeth shall o'ercome him"
"The King is a great man, yet Macbeth might succeed him"
"What on earth are you talking about? Surely Malcolm will succeed Duncan, or if not him, then Donalbain?"
"Duncan's sons may yet not succeed him"
"Macbeth may achieve renown, yet he will shrink back from the task"
"Macbeth may be king, yet only if you spur his ambition"
This was very strange, and not a little discomfiting. "What are you suggesting?"
"Beware! The grave-children gave thee good warning"
"Beware! Heed us, and briefly regret" | 52e0620c8b3b4a75b347049d2436bc04 | ['e34eee79c40744248ae3d4335bf3e37d'] | The Kyriarch rose, and walked towards a door in one of the side walls of the room. Diziet noticed that they walked slowly and with evident discomfort. She followed them to the door, and out onto a balcony outside that overlooked the palace and much of the surrounding landscape.
_It's not looking good,_ Diziet used her neural lace and the transmitter in her earring to send to the orbiting _Sexy Dossier_ , trusting the ship would be monitoring the palace-fortress for signals from her. _The Kyriarch seems unable to differentiate glory and gigadeathcrime._
"Quite the view you have here." Diziet observed. "Are you sure you want to destroy all of this?"
"There's no point..." The Kyriarch stopped mid-sentence, their jaw hanging open slackly.
_Ms Sma, it's the_ Grey Area _here. I suggest you make a hasty exit. Your Kyriarch is going to know that I know all their secrets, and will probably not be pleased._
_What? What did you do?_
_Now, Ms Sma._
Diziet transmitted the location of the front courtyard to the module, and ran back inside.
"...trying to persuade," The Kyriarch stopped again, and roared in anger, "How dare you! Guards!"
Diziet sprinted towards the main doors to the throne room. "Drone!", she yelled, as loudly as possible, "Open these doors! Now!". She hoped that while the doors were opaque to effectors, they might not be entirely soundproof.
The doors didn't move. She hammered on them, hearing the Kyriarch's slow tread behind her. She looked over her shoulder, but they didn't seem to be armed. The doors started to open, and a guard's gun barrel poked through.
Diziet ducked out of the way. "Drone, disable the guards, and get these doors opened. No casualties!" The doors swung open with a bang, knocking the stunned guards aside. She sprinted across the antechamber, towards the exit. Skaffen-Amtiskaw flew along beside her.
"What happened? That didn't sound very diplomatic."
"I don't know. The Kyriarch stopped mid-sentence, then the _Grey Area_ told me to run. The module will meet us in the front courtyard. Try not to kill anyone."
"You spoil all my fun."
"My heart bleeds. When we get outside, try and find out what's going on."
They fled as fast as Diziet could run, the drone using fields to slam soldiers senseless into the walls as they passed. After what felt like a kilometer of corridors, Diziet skidded outside onto the snow in the front courtyard. She kept her balance with some difficulty, and looked for the module. It swooped over the curtain wall in a hail of fire from several guard posts; as it came to a halt in front of Diziet and Skaffen-Amtiskaw, the drone's field turned a furious shade of white. The ground shook, and there was a low rumbling sound.
_Diziet,_ Sexy Dossier _here. I've just displaced the AM mines into the system's star, based on co-ordinates from the_ Grey Area. _It's possible I took some surrounding infrastructure with them..._
The module swung up into the air, accelerating out into space.
"How did the _Grey Area_ know where all those mines were?" Diziet asked the drone.
"It sucked them out of the fucking Kyriarch's brain!" Skaffen-Amtiskaw's voice dripped with venom. "It just wanted you to get the Kyriarch outside so it could get its effectors into their brain. Just like that. _Meatfucker_!"
**Author's Note:**
> This is my first-ever fic. Please be gentle :-)
>
> Thanks to Diziet for spotting the obvious hole, and to rmc28 and molybdomantic for beta. |
c7cdae236358454a940b6d5d81f55d62 | ['e370cc6968654315950fc34547231347'] |
George Weasley and The Girl Who Lived
On a dark night, on a small street called Privet Drive, an old man stood. The man was named Albus Dumbledore. He took ut a mechanical device and clicks a button. As if by magic, the light from all the streetlamps was zapped into the device, leaving the street in darkness. As the man, a professor, put the device away he heard a cats meow not too far off.
"I should have known you would be here...Professor McGonagall" Dumbledore addressed a small tabby cat sitting on a brick ledge. As he spoke the cat transformed into a tall, old woman.
"Good evening, Professor Dumbledore. Are the rumors true, Albus?" Professor McGonagall inquired of Professor Dumbledore as they progressed down the street.
"I'm afraid so, Professor. The good, and the bad." He sadly confirmed.
"And the children?"
"Hagrid is bringing them." This answer did not sit too well with Professor McGonagall.
"Do you think it wise to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"
"Ah, Professor, I would trust Hagrid with my life." At that, a roaring motor could be heard in the distance. The two professors look up to see a flying motorcycle descending from the sky. The motorcycle comes to a skidding halt and a large man by the name of Rubeus Hagrid takes off his goggles and greets the two professors standing before him. "No problems, I trust, Hagrid?"
"No, sir. Little tykes fell asleep just as we were flying over Bristol. Heh." At that Hagrid haded over the first child. A baby boy who was fast asleep. "Try not to wake him. There ya' go." Hagrid kept hold of the second child, a little girl of the same age, one-year-old.
"Albus, do you really think it's safe, leaving them with these people? I've been watching them all day" Professor McGonagall spoke her concerns "they're the worst sort of Muggles imaginable. They really Professory are."
"We won't be leaving them both here. Just the boy," said Dumbledore. "And they are the only family he has."
"The boy will be famous. There won't be a child in our world who doesn't know his name."
"Exactly. He's better off growing up away from all that. Until he is ready." Dumbledore then places a letter in the basket along with the sleeping baby.
"And as for the girl?" McGonagall asked.
"Remus Lupin has agreed to take her in. Given his way, he would have them both." Dumbledore clarified. "But this is the only way."
~~~~~~
10 years later
~~~~~~
Emma Potter sat at the breakfast table when the owl arrived carrying her acceptance letter into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This was an exciting time for the eleven-year-old, for this was a sign that she was one step closer to meeting her twin brother for the first time. Emma was a little short for her age with dark, messy, brown hair that fell just past her shoulders. Her eyes were the same green that she had been told belonged to her mum once upon a time.
Emma grew up knowing of her lineage and of her brother, however, she knew that he likely did not have the same knowledge as her. Emma had figured this out over the years, as she tried numerous times to send a letter to her brother in secret, but had never received a reply. She figured their muggle aunt and uncle had something to do with it.
Emma knew one other thing that her brother did not. She knew of how the two of them had survived that night in Godric's Hollow when their parents had perished. James, Emma and Harry's father, had hidden Emma in a small cupboard under the sink as Lily, their mother, ran into the nursery with Harry.
~~~~~
The Sorting Ceremony
~~~~~
Emma stood surrounded by first years on the staircase leading to the Great Hall of Hogwarts, waiting for the sorting ceremony to begin. When a boy with blonde hair spoke up.
"It's true then, what they're saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts." There was a wave of excited whispers at this. Emma could barely see the blonde boy, and she was desperately trying to get a better look at who he was talking to. No doubt her very own brother. "This is Crabbe and Goyle and I'm Malfoy...Draco Malfoy." At this, someone must have sickered because next, the boy seemed to become upset as he said "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask yours. Red hair and a hand me down robe? You must be a Weasley. Well soon find that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. Don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."
Then a new voice was heard. One that made Emma's heart drop to her stomach for a split second. "I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks." Harry! That must be Harry! Emma started to push her way forward but before she could get far Professor McGonagall came forward and told the crowd that the ceremony was to begin.
Emma watched as her brother was sorted into Gryffindor house. Immediately after he sat down the professor called her name and the room was filled with more whispers and excitement.
Emma sat on the stool and as the hat was placed on her head she told it exactly what was to happen. "Place me in Gryffindor." She demanded. This clearly surprised the hat.
"Are you sure. You would do so well in-"
"Gryffindor? I know." she sarcastically stated. "I want to be with my brother." she was more serious with her last line. The hat merely hummed in thought before shouting, "GRYFFINDOR!" And the crowd was in an uproar. | 41d473f0216a48d5b668d10fd768b7c6 | ['e370cc6968654315950fc34547231347'] | Emma ran to the table but stopped just short of her brother, who was looking at her in awe. Harry stood up from his seat, they didn't say anything to each other before Harry embraced his only living relative. His twin sister.
~~~~
Three Years Later, At The Quidditch World Cup
~~~~
Over the past few years, as Emma grew very close to her brother and their two best friends, Hermione and Ron, she also grew close to Ron's older brothers Fred and George. Now, it was known to everyone, save be Emma, that George had begun to fancy her over the last summer, of which her guardian Remus Lupin had allowed her to spend the majority of with the Weasley family.
As the group walked together to the port key, George could see Emma eyeballing Cedric Digory like he was a fresh piece of meat and she a hungry wolf. George was set on winning Emma over, no matter how long it took. And Fred, well, Fred was set on helping his brother get the girl.
As the Quidditch World cup carried on, Emma and George sat together at the game, and could constantly be seen teasing each other.
Soon, however, things took a turn for the worst. The Deatheaters were attacking and Emma was separated from the group.
Emma ran, wand drawn, scared out of her mind. Tears streaked her face, but she tried to remain calm. She stopped in her tracks and took a deep breath and stopped crying. She wiped her tears and continued forward, carefully.
"Emma!" A figure yelled as he ran towards her. It was George. He gripped her and pulled her into a crushing hug. In that instant, Emma felt safe, for the first time in three years. She felt warm and her heart felt full. When George let go and took her hand to lead her away from the burning tents and ashen skies, she knew that she would do anything to feel that way again. She also knew, deep down, that George was the only one who could give her those feelings.
~~~~
Sirius Black's Death
~~~~
As the years progressed, George and Emma would sneak in and around the castle to find places to snog. Times were getting harder and more dangerous and George constantly worried about Emma. She, like her brother and their friends, always found trouble. The four of them were continuously in danger together. Though he worried, he knew that those four were going to be the ones to end the war. Emma worried for George too. She wanted nothing more than for him to be safe, but she knew what being in the Order meant to him.
On the night that Emma and Harry watched their godfather, Sirius, die, George was there for her, as always. He held her tightly in his arms as she screamed her frustrations to the world. He stroked her hair and kissed her temple as she cried and mourned.
Emma sat in George's arms crying as he rocked them back and forth. Emma was beginning to calm down a little and she wanted to tell George something so she sniffled and turned to face him.
"I can't lose you, George," she said with tears in her eyes. George looked at her sadly and placed his large hand on the side of her face and leaned his head against her own.
"You won't." his own tears were threatening to fall now. He hated seeing her like this.
"I love you, George." her voice cracked as she said this. It shocked George and he pulled away. He didn't pull away because he didn't feel the same. Quite the opposite. George loved Emma more than she could ever know. But his pulling away scared Emma. He saw the look of terror and heartache cross her features. She thought he didn't love her. George placed both hands on her face now and looked her in the eyes.
"I love you more than anything in this world, Emma." relief filled her heart at those words, and the two of them kissed the most passionate and loving kissed either of them had ever experienced.
**Author's Note:**
> I understand that I started to wrap things up pretty quickly and I apologize for that. It was late and I was getting annoyed with myself. |
5ffab94d873648d2b6f203b0ff2d5ed5 | ['e3750dc0821a4750a4e452bc9f0a68bd'] | Jimin smacks his free palm into Jungkook’s chest instead, freeing another one of those bright giggles from the younger boy. Jungkook catches his wrist and Jimin’s stomach abruptly swoops down to his toes as he’s pulled in close.
They’re in - not public, exactly, they pay way too much rent for this complex to be considered public. But definitely in view of other people, should other people choose to look, and it takes Jimin a solid second to remember that no one else is privy to the romantic movie reel playing in his brain, where Jungkook leans down and maybe slides one of those big hands to the small of his back and they kiss under one of the the barely-blooming trees lining the path through The Hill.
“Did you…?” Jungkook’s eyes are wide, wide, wide over the top of his mask. He clears his throat, tries again. “Did you figure out why?”
_Oh_ , and that’s _worry_. Jimin kicks his personal 4K Blu-Ray into the trash. There’s a world out there where this is a playful moment, and Jimin aches for it, but it’s more important to him that Jungkook is comfortable. It’s weird. He’s never relished making himself vulnerable, which is maybe how they got into this mess in the first place. But he’ll bend over backwards and expose all the soft parts of himself if it’ll make Jungkook feel safe.
So he draws in a breath. Dispenses with an urge to be coy about this, to be anything other than completely honest. Smiles, helplessly, because that’s the way Jungkook makes him feel.
“I think so,” he says. “That’s why I asked you to come for a walk with me. I wanted to say sorry, obviously. But I also wanted to ask you on a date where the others wouldn’t hear.”
The word _date_ hits Jungkook with all the subtlety of a punch to the face, which had sort of been the intention. Jimin’s heart and stomach fight it out for position in his throat as he watches him, and he’s not sure which one he’s rooting for. Whatever results in him not throwing up on the very cute boy staring down at him like a very startled owl, he supposes.
“I thought we could go bowling,” he chatters, because he’s never been good with silence. “Or for a river walk, or karaoke or something. It’s not really beach weather, but we can do that when it’s warmer, I know you said you liked that one time. Could. Could do that. If you wanted. If I don’t mess this up before then. If I haven’t already.”
“Hyung,” Jungkook rasps. He’s a little muffled behind his mask, and something about that seems to annoy him; he lets go of Jimin’s wrist to tug it down under his chin.
They’re still holding hands. Jimin thinks his bones might creak from how hard they’re holding hands.
“Hyung.” Jungkook’s mouth is pink, lips parted just a little, and god Jimin really wants to-- “I really want to kiss you right now but you decided to do this outside, what the hell?”
*
They go back inside.
*
Yoongi, apparently retired from the shenanigans, is the only one who catches sight of them slipping back. They’re saved from a deadly eyebrow raise by an oblivious deciding to use him as a jungle gym, and Jimin makes a not to thank him later as Jungkook tugs him towards his room.
And there’s something beautiful and deliberate in that, in going to Jungkook’s room instead of Jimin’s, where they won’t be interrupted, where they can figure this out in peace. The sound of the lock tumbling into place feels like it should be ominous, the muffled quiet unnerving, but instead Jimin finds himself leaning back against the door with a helpless smile. Still holding hands.
“Private, now,” he points out.
Jungkook ducks his head. Jimin can feel the nervous squeeze of fingers around his and returns it as calmly as he can, absent the fine tremor working down his spine. This is going to change everything. This has already changed everything, even if they walk out of this room right now. Jimin can’t bring himself to regret it, but he can at least be understanding about Jungkook’s hesitation.
“We don’t actually have to - I really did just want to ask you on a date. You don’t have to kiss me. You don’t even have to say yes, I know this is a lot, I don’t even know for sure that you--”
He jerks his head up, a fire of determination flashing behind dark eyes and warming Jimin to his core. “I don’t just say I wanna kiss one of my hyungs for the hell of it, Jimin.”
Jimin swallows, still smiling. He’s cute. Jimin has known this whole time how cute Jungkook is, but there’s something about the proximity now, the intimacy. He’s cute _for Jimin_ , and Jimin has always been possessive.
“So why do you want to kiss me?” he prompts, teasing.
It’s not just Jungkook’s mouth that’s pink now. The colour feathers rose-gold over his cheeks and Jimin resists the urge to reach up and smear his thumb over it, like he can take some of that pretty, pretty blush for himself. Jungkook steps in, bringing warmth with him, heat. The back of Jimin’s head hits the door with a soft _thunk_.
Jungkook squeezes his hand again. Jimin squeezes back.
“Because you’re kind,” Jungkook whispers, and Jimin had been anticipating any number of compliments, but that’s not one of them. His lips part, ready to protest, but Jungkook steamrolls on. “Because you’re the type of person who spends all their energy on caring for other people and sometimes you don’t have any left for yourself, and I want to be that energy for you, hyung. Because you love yourself enough now to ask for what you need from people, and I want to be one of the things you need.” | ff29cf73c5c840edb187059f49f2e83b | ['e3750dc0821a4750a4e452bc9f0a68bd'] | Namjoon grumbles about his lack of respect like he hasn’t transformed into a glowing lobster of anxiety and arousal just from this simple proximity, and all he gets for his trouble is a grin big enough to match it.
“Ask your question then.”
“Will you go on a date with me?”
The only thing Namjoon has ever loved as much as the boy in front of him is words, but they all abandon him in the wake of that question. He opens his mouth and finds it empty of anything except his tongue and all his teeth, the fillings he got before the idol lifestyle forced him to stop consuming _so_ much sugar. And Jungkook doesn’t falter, doesn’t stop smiling and mumble any sorries, doesn’t do anything except sit there and wait.
Like he’s been doing for the better part of a decade.
He shoves Jungkook in the shoulder, abruptly overcome by the sheer weight of feelings crushing him down. Jungkook yelps, still smiling, but before he can follow up with any complaints, Namjoon kisses him.
Their teeth bump at first (Namjoon mumbles an _ow_) and it takes a second to get their heads situated, the angles right, but--
But.
Jungkook’s mouth is soft and wet and warm and he kisses that smile back into Namjoon with all the patience of a boy who has waited. Namjoon’s fingers curl into his shirt, tight and creaking as he kisses _yes_, kisses _I’m sorry_, kisses, “I really like you, JK,” into the little curved corner of his lips as his words creep sheepishly back. “I should’ve said sooner.”
“If you say sorry instead of kissing me more, I’m gonna smack you,” Jungkook says cheerfully, and you know what? Namjoon can get on board with that.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> LINK
LINK
11. 2seok; bodyguard hobi, chaebol jin, desperate kiss
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> content warning for mentions of gun violence (T-rated)
It’s one of those glaring summer days, the kind where every colour has the saturation turned up and the sky scorns the hint of any kind of moisture, when Hoseok gets shot.
Hoseok will, later, when it hurts less and the bleeding has largely stopped, point out that it’s technically his job to get shot. Jin, disheveled at his bedside in a private hospital room, won’t laugh, and Hobi thinks that aches more than his bullet wound.
“You’re my bodyguard,” Jin snaps instead. “It means you guard my body, not wreck yours.”
There’s an innuendo in there somewhere about bodies and the wrecking of them, but Hobi has too many extra holes in his right now to feel up to making it. He waggles his eyebrows instead, so that Jin will know he noticed it, and so Jin wil maybe remember he has a sense of humour.
Jin does not remember this, or if he does, he doesn’t tell Hobi about it. Chaebol-subsidized healthcare is great, but Hobi would feel a lot better if his chaebol could just crack a smile.
A choked sound rises in Jin’s throat. Hobi manages half a grin before he realises that’s not a laugh, or even a snort. It’s nothing good at all, and then Jin is folding in half at the waist like he’s the one who’s been shot, pressing his face into the crisp fold of his hospital sheets.
“You bled so much.”
“Hey.” Hobi’s hands flutter like nervous butterflies before he finally allows one of them to perch on top of Jin’s head, very delicately. “It’s - stopped now?”
“_Jung Hoseok._”
“I don’t know!” he protests loudly, because the only thing he knows how to do quietly is murder, really. “Am I supposed to apologise for how much blood I have? I won’t apologise for getting shot, Jin, not when the other option was - was you.”
Jin lifts his head and there’s something awful in his eyes, something that feels sort of like getting shot all over again when Hobi sees it. His hand twitches and he has to wonder if the bullet messed up something significant when it sliced through his shoulder, if it rewired his fingers straight to his heart, that they’re reaching for Jin now when he’d always hesitated before.
Jin reaches back. His skin is clammy and he holds on too tightly, bent fingers digging into the delicate spaces between Hobi’s bones, but it’s grounding. If he hurts, he’s here. If it’s Jin that’s hurting, he’s here with him.
And it’s Jin that closes the distance between them, breath hot and mouth hotter, but only because Hobi is finding it kind of agonising to move right now. It’s probably a good thing; he thinks he might have run away if it was easier, but the sweet burn begs him to stay and so do Jin’s lips, desperate over his. His tongue. His teeth.
Hobi kisses back. He squeezes Jin’s hand hard enough to feel the bones grind together, pulse pounding in his head, drinking down the whimper of pain or want or everything that spills from Jin’s mouth to his.
“You’re fired,” Jin mumbles, when they can both breathe air that hasn’t passed between them again. He kisses Hobi’s cheek, his forehead, the bridge of his nose. Hobi didn’t pass out when he got shot, but he’s re-assessing that decision now.
“Wah, my cruel master, to leave me destitute on the streets and right after I took - mmph!”
“We’ll find something for you to do,” his cruel master promises, and it should terrify Hobi, this _we_.
He kisses Jin again, soft this time. A different kind of sweet.
He’s survived worse things than being scared.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> LINK
LINK |
ecc3d878bed14d21a5a4a4467505d020 | ['e384047ff6404ddfbc9eaff2d3322667'] | But winter was over, and spring was on the land. The world was green and growing, and though the nights were still cool, no snows fell, and—
And she was no longer alone in the wood.
Lyanna dropped the rest of the way to the ground and crouched there, one hand pressed to the dirt. Her heart pounded in her ears, and she took long, slow breaths, trying to silence it.
It was not something she had heard, but something she sensed. A shiver crawled up her skin, pricking all along her arms. Cautiously, quietly, she lifted her helm from where it lay in the grass and drew it over her head. Slid the visor down. Turned.
That was when she saw him.
She knew him by his silver hair. He was clad simply, in breeches and doublet rather than the black armor gleaming with rubies that he was known for—but even without adornment, there was no mistaking Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.
He was still some distance from her, but he seemed to feel her gaze. He stopped where he stood, the falling sunlight dappling his face and catching in his hair.
Lyanna swallowed, considering her options. Stay or flee. Flee or stay. With the helm covering her face and the boys’ garb hiding what figure she had, he couldn’t know her. But his legs were long, much longer than her own. If she ran, he might catch her.
She hesitated.
The prince of the Seven Kingdoms took a step toward her, but that was all. His gaze flicked upward, to where her shield dangled from a branch.
“A fitting monument,” he said, nodding toward the shield. “But your departure was met with some distress, Ser. There were men who wished to test their skill against your own.”
_To see my face, you mean_ , she thought, but she said nothing. She watched him steadily. He couldn’t see her eyes, but she could see his. Solemn eyes that revealed nothing of his intent. For a moment, she thought of Ned, whose eyes were also somber, serious—but there was a melancholy in the prince that was not in her brother. She recalled the song the prince had sung two nights ago, a tune as haunting as it was lovely, but it was the sadness in his eyes as much as in the words that had affected her. The Starks warned that winter was coming, but winter was where this man lived.
She took half a step back.
The prince walked forward again, stopped again. “My father says you are no friend to him.” He sounded weary somehow.
She would have to speak. She swallowed once, then pulled in air. Her lungs were strong; her brothers had always said so. She pitched her voice low, let it ring out. “I am friend to all who are friend to me.”
His smile was faint. “You would do well at court.”
“And how do you know I’ve not been?” She _hadn’t_ been at court, of course, but no need for him to know that. The Knight might be highborn lady or baseborn lad—if he could not say which, she’d be that much safer.
One eyebrow lifted. “I would remember.”
“Would you? You do not know my face,” she said. Then, recalling her courtesies, she added, “Your Grace.”
His smile broadened. “I see you know mine.”
She could have kicked herself. Instead she shrugged. “Every stable hand knows the look of our dragon prince.”
“But you’re no stable hand. Your speech betrays you. As does your stance. You keep your shoulders straight, your head high. You don’t look away from me.” He paused, and the smile faded. Something that might have been a sigh escaped his lips. “You need not be so wary. You aren’t the first boy to seek glory at the joust, nor will you be the last.”
She watched him again. He was expressionless once more, his pale hair pulled back from his face, though a few wisps had come free to curl around his ears. He wore a sword, but his hand had not strayed near it. He believed her captured already, she realized. He had assessed her, deemed her nothing of a threat. She found that faintly galling.
She lifted her chin. “I fought for honor, not for glory, my lord. And I am no _boy_.”
That earned her a chuckle. “I’d wager half my kingdom you’re no man yet.”
“I’ve heard my lord does not gamble.”
“With coin, no. But we gamble every time we ride to battle, every time we take up a sword.” His lips tilted upward again, though his eyes still seemed sad. “I would trust a knight to know that, even one as scrawny as yourself.”
Lyanna crossed her arms in front of her. She was tall for a woman, but she didn’t have a man’s height or build. His tone was friendly, indulgent; he thought her a lad playing at being a man, or some young squire hoping to test himself. And better that he should—but somehow it grated.
He advanced another step. “Come, Ser. Let me see your face. The king has commanded it.”
_And do you always do as the king commands?_ she wanted to ask. But what she said was, “And then?”
“And then I know what to call you. Our valiant Ser Barristan won his name at a tourney such as this. My father's uncle named him the Bold. What title shall I give you?”
Another step.
She didn’t know what madness overtook her then.
“The _Quick_ ,” she said, and spun around.
She ran blindly, without direction. The helm limited her vision, and anyway, all conscious thought had fled. Somewhere in the back of her head, her father’s voice echoed. _That is precisely my fear_ , it whispered. What would he say when word of his daughter’s conduct reached him? | 135c62e1598d4b35971f636745909a80 | ['e384047ff6404ddfbc9eaff2d3322667'] | Solas is the hunter once again. He moves toward her with slow deliberation, closing the gap between them. He sets his hands on her waist, sliding his fingers along the curve of her hips, and drags her body against his, quickly enough that she gasps. He feels the shiver that runs through her. She shuts her eyes. She tips her face up to meet his kiss—but he doesn’t kiss her. Instead, he delays a moment. He watches her, enjoying the shape of her hips beneath his hands, the way her lips are slightly parted as she waits for his kiss. He lets the seconds lengthen between them. One moment bleeds into the next.
She opens her eyes and frowns at him. “Aren’t you—”
Only then does he cover her mouth with his.
Ellana bites down on his lip. Not hard enough to hurt—much—but hard enough to demonstrate her irritation. She tries to wriggle away after that, but he wraps his arms around her, pinning her to him, trapping her hands against his chest. He kisses her slowly, lingeringly, but not as long as he would have liked, because, after all, here she is still their Herald, and he is still the elven apostate in her retinue. And even that is better than the truth.
“If you were hoping to escape, I suspect someone will still be able to find us here,” he tells her, drawing back from the kiss, but not quite able to remove his hands from her.
“Leliana has spies everywhere,” she agrees. Her face is flushed, cheeks warmly pink beneath her dusting of freckles. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the walls actually did talk to her. And if not her, I know very well someone is out there, overhearing. Everyone in this place is doing something scandalous. But… let me pretend, just for a moment.”
He inclines his head. He won’t deny her that. How can he, when he has been unable to deny it to himself?
That is what he’s been doing, all this time. Pretending. Imagining that moments exist separate from themselves—that he can remain within the space of a second, like some reflection of the Fade, caught unchanging.
This is one of those seconds, here, with her. He wills it not to end. He is committing all of this to memory: the lock of hair that has come loose, curling along her neck; the moonlight on her skin.
“Besides,” Ellana adds, and the mischief is back in her eyes. “A secret tryst in the gardens? I’m likely to go up in their estimation.”
“I would hardly call this a tryst.”
“You’re no fun.”
“True,” he says. “I am rarely accused of being such.” Overhead, clouds have rolled in, throwing shadows across them. He moves one hand from her waist to her shoulder, tracing the line of her collarbone with his thumb. “You are chilled.”
She gives a short laugh. “It’s this dress,” she says, gesturing down the length of it.
He will agree with her there. The gown has miles of fabric, all of them concentrated below the waist. She’d had to catch up her skirts with both hands and run through the servants’ wing earlier that night, having already kicked off the shoes their spymaster had so carefully selected for her. Solas suspects it was only magic that had kept her from tripping. She is barefoot still. Her toes peek through beneath the waves of skirt, almost hidden by the grass. Light skims along the fabric, deep green silk adorned with gold—not luxuriant enough to outshine the empress, Josephine had explained, but rich enough to draw the eye. But if there is an excess of cloth from Ellana’s hips down, there’s a dearth of it above. The bodice is thin gold lace, pulled tight; the wisps that serve as sleeves float along her arms. Her shoulders are entirely bare. The dress was clearly not designed for warmth or practicality.
It does, however, provide him with an excellent view of her breasts.
“I barely recognized myself when they laced me into it,” Ellana continues, as though she’s unaware of where his gaze lingers—and perhaps she is, though that little smile of hers has returned. “My Keeper would be appalled.”
Solas is well aware of the disdain the Dalish hold for all things shemlen, but what he knows of Ellana’s clan would seem to indicate they’re more tolerant than most. “What would she say?”
Ellana works her face into a scowl. She pitches her voice higher, just slightly, doing what he assumes is an imitation of her Keeper. “‘Da’len, aravels are made for traveling, not for wearing.’ And then she’d use the cloth for sails. There’s certainly enough of it.” She picks at her skirts for a moment, running her fingers along the silk. “It is lovely, though. I’ll have to remember to thank Josephine.”
There is a catch in her voice, a hesitation in her words. “But?” he prompts.
Her smile falters. She swallows, and lets her hands fall. Her voice is soft. “I kept thinking… when all this was over, I would go home. To my clan. But I can’t, can I?”
He doesn’t answer her immediately.
He studies her: the small furrow in her brow, the way her eyes slide from his. She bites her lip. She turns her face away.
He has been lying to her about so many things; he will not lie to her about this. She is no longer the questing, curious girl who left her clan to seek what answers she could at the Divine’s Conclave. Nor is she the girl who stepped from a rift, unconscious and unknowing. |
668fc5f0341f41ff98a4b1ea570b9582 | ['e38df30f7c784347ae0036559c9b14de'] | You opened the door to your shared suite when you roughly pushed up on the wall.
“Did you forget what I said a few minutes ago about when we get back?” Peter whispered in your ear, a quiet moan escaping your lips.
God, were you _so_ screwed.
8. Did You Just Call Me Daddy?
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> there is a lot of explicit content in this chapter also i haven’t written smut in two years so yikes hope this wasn’t a mess!
Peter’s lips were sucking down your neck and collarbone as you had your legs wrapped around his waist. A breathy moan escaped your lips when he placed a firm hand on your ass, a smirk forming on his lips against your neck.
“ _Peter_.” You breathed out, begging to be touched. He seemed to know your desire just from his name. With your legs still wrapped around him, he carried you into your shared bedroom.
“Y/N let go.” He laughed and you unraveled your limbs from Peter, allowing him to softly drop you on the bed. You never broke eye contact as his hands trailed up your exposed thigh, a chill running down you as his hand reached your side. He trailed circles onto your stomach while uneven breathes escaped your lips.
“Stop teasing me fucker, I need you.” You watched as his pupils became blown with lust, a needy feeling coursing through you. Whether it was from you or Peter, you didn’t know but were glad there was a mutual agreement.
His hand was moving to the hem of your shirt as a loud knock came on the door, startling you.
You let out an annoyed groan as Peters head dropped in exasperation, you gently pushing him off you.
“Y/N? Peter? You better not be having sex, I’m coming in but I’ll give you a minute!” You heard your fathers voice through the door of your suite, Peter’s eyes blowing wide.
“Oh my god, what the hell am I supposed to do about this?” He whispered, motioning to his clearly straining hard on. You stifled a giggle and pulled the cover over both of you, laying your head on Peter’s chest to make it seem the two of you were asleep.
“I didn’t get a response but, you better be dressed!” Tony yelled loudly through the apartment, a tiny giggle coming from you, making Peter softly smack your arm.
“Oh how cute. I might puke though.” You heard your dad say through the cracked door, trying your hardest to keep your eyelids closed. The light switched on, causing you to feign drowsiness, Peter letting out a yawn.
“What’s up dad?” You made your voice as tired as you could without sounding fake. Tony’s mouth was in a line, a mixture of emotions that you couldn’t read off the bat.
“Hi sweetheart, got an assignment for Pete. Him and I, I’ll let you look through the file for a minute and pack. We’re out of here in 15.” He tosses a file onto Peter’s lap, you watching as he made a slight face before nodding at Tony, who exited huffing something about teenagers.
“Whew, that was way too close.” Peter huffed out, flopping his head down against the pillow, your fingers running along his bicep.
“Yeah too close..” You trailed off, your fingers continuing their trail until they dipped slightly under the waistband of his boxers. A shaky gasp exhaled from Peter, his hand going to your curls.
“Babe,” Your stomach did a flip over such a simple word, “We can’t right now, I-I can’t right now. What if your dad-?” You pulled back from him slightly, still keeping your hand firm on his abdomen.
“Yeah, so what about him though?” You were so sexually frustrated you needed something inside you, but if Peter wasn’t feeling it, he wasn’t feeling it.
“Plus, I gotta uh, take care of, you know, this..” He motioned to his waist and you laughed, smacking him on the arm to let him finish himself off.
“Just don’t scream!”
“Shut up!”
Even after you said goodbye to your father and Peter, Peter promising to communicate everyday whether telepathically or through text, you still couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling rising in you the whole time.
Most of your days while they were gone was spent training with Wanda, Steve, and Nat while you spent your free time with Bucky and Sam or slept and ate. You found yourself constantly thinking of Peter, as you could feel his longing for you and his loneliness.
“Thinking about spiderling?” Sam mumbled from the game of Uno that you, Bucky, Bruce, Nat, and him were playing in the common room.
“No, I’m actually wondering about Tony, fucker.” You heard Bruce make a sound you distinguished as laughter that made you and Nat start laughing uncontrollably.
“I have no idea what that noise was.” Bruce sighed as he placed a wild card onto the deck.
“I’ll change to blue.”
“Son of a bitch!” Sam shouted angrily, clearly showing his mainly yellow deck.
“Motherfucker!”
“Oh my god Buck,” You started laughing, surprised that he of all people would curse. Everyone in the room broke into laughter and for once, ever since Peter and Tony left, you were content, and not stressed.
The familiar sound of your phone receiving a facetime, caused you to shoot up in bed, so excited a burst of flames sprouted from your fingertips; and eagerly grab at your phone, delighted by the name ‘Spider <3’ appearing on screen.
“Heyyyyyy baby!” His voice came through the phone as you had a clear view of his ceiling fan.
“Hey Pete! How are you? How’s the mission going? Where are you staying? Is that-“ You were interrupted by his laughter, finally revealing his face, a small cut on his left eyebrow visible. | a5af162714c34531b9cf79a7a3afce76 | ['e38df30f7c784347ae0036559c9b14de'] | “Okay, let’s split up and see if we can get a look at Iska, if you spot her, your code word is Phoenix tail— yes I know random— and I’ll find you.” Natasha told you and you nodded in agreement as you two parted ways.
“Jesus there’s a lot of white people here.” You said to nobody in particular but heard a small laugh through the ear piece.
“You know you’re half white right? And this a Diplomat ball. You expect there to not be a lot of white people? There’s too many of them in control of stuff.” Steve said, a smile forming on your lips as you helped yourself to a glass of champagne.
“Oh yes I know very much. Just thinking out loud.” You smirked, slowly sipping on the bubbly drink, peering around the room for a sign of Nika Iska. Once or twice you saw your redheaded partner in the crowd of people, communicating with officials and still on the lookout. Before too long, a young man in a crisp suit with blazing red hair stood next to you.
“Hello. I was wondering if you would like to dance? A fine lady like you shouldn’t be slumped against a wall.” He had a thick accent that sounded Scottish that you found enjoyable. Imagining how Peter’s face must’ve looked like back at HQ made you smirk. You agreed and took the young mans hand as he lead you to the dance floor.
“So who are you?” He asked, his hands on your waist as you had them on his shoulders; he was very tall so you couldn’t quite wrap them around his neck the traditional way.
“Montgomery, Opal Montgomery. Personal assistant to Tony Stark.” You heard your father make a sound but you ignored it. The man seemed interested as he raised his eyebrows.
“Tony Stark huh? He seems like an interesting person to work for.” You just shrugged, trying to spot Iska in the large crowd.
“I guess it’s my turn to introduce myself then. ‘Name’s Joseph Turner. I work for the Russian Intelligence and Secrecy League. “ That one surprised you, but you didn’t let it show on your face. You wondered how a Scottish man ended up working in Russia.
“I know what you’re thinking, How’d a lad like me from Glasgow end up in Moscow? Well-“ He started his story, occasionally turning you. During one of your spins, you looked behind you and nearly choked on your spit. Nika Iska was directly behind you, standing alone and swaying to the music with a glass in her hand. You mumbled a quiet ‘phoenix tail’ and watched Natasha’s head perk up. She immediately came your direction and you excused yourself from Turner, who wished to keep dancing with you.
“Oh no, I’ll only be a minute. Excuse me.” You walked behind him and Nat grabbed a hold of your arm.
“We’ve got to be careful. She’s obviously got guards and the one you were just dancing with is probably her right hand man.” She said in a hushed voice, barely allowing her lips to move; eyes glued on Iska who was starting to make her way out of the crowd with Turner and another tall man. Natasha gestured to the scene and the two of you followed closely.
“We’re trailing her.” You mumbled loud enough for the others to hear and they told you and Nat to not get too close.
You followed them out of the ballroom, walking fast but not making a single sound with your heels, Natasha right next to you doing the same motions. Whenever they turned a corner, the two of you did too. They finally stopped at a door on the 4th floor, Iska going in and the two guards stood outside either sides of the door. The two of you were walking down the corridor acting tipsy with a bottle of tequila you had levitated off a nearby trolley. The men turned their heads to the two of you, suddenly intrigued. You slipped the bottle between your lips and passed it to Nat with a giggle, letting the liquor burn down your throat.
“Well look who it is!” You smiled, walking over to Turner with Natasha still looped in your left arm. He smirked down at you and looked over at his buddy.
“Hello Ms. Montgomery. “ He said quite stiffly as you unlinked from Nat and placed a palm on the mans chest, Natasha playing with the other guard’s tie.
“Maybe you want to get out of here?” You smirked widely, but Turner didn’t show any change in his face. You felt a strange burning sensation in your chest that you knew Peter was causing. You could tell he was angry.
“No now I don’t think so.” He said, more stuff this time. You and Nat meet each other’s eyes and she mouthed now. You pressed the small bead on the bracelet and a small device appeared in your hands. Before Turner or the other guard had a chance to do anything, you and Nat had stunned both of them, their bodies falling to the floor. Reaching the door, you turned the handle to— surprisingly— find it unlocked. You entered first with Natasha close behind you. Just as you rounded the corner you felt a blow to the face, making you stagger a bit and Natasha to leap into action. She ran towards a guard in the room while you occupied Nika. Slamming the door shut with your mind, she held up her fists and had a huge smirk on her face.
“Opal Montgomery huh? The moment I heard that I knew that was a lie. You’re Y/N Stark. Tony Stark’s daughter, not his assistant. You look too much like him, I never fell for that.” She shrugged, attempting to aim a blow at you but you dodged it and recoiled, throwing a punch her way and she deflected it immediately. |
551be250d5904e43a8f11a476b1d3b21 | ['e39553b532bb4ad4ba31ad3f47e7d5cf'] | “Nothing, I just love you so very, very much.” He leaned in and kissed her deeply. They’re moment was interrupted when Michael spoke.
“What is with you two?”
“Oh, it’s nothing, dear.” Peggy shot a glance at Daniel. “It’s something only grandparents would understand.” She slid closer to Daniel and nuzzled her head into the crook of his shoulder, remembering the night they had spent on the couch.
~
At around four in the afternoon, Peggy received a phone call from the secure line in the basement, and, for the next three hours, proceeded to give orders to agents and other officers in command all over the world. Something bad had happened, and Daniel knew this because he heard her say a few choice words to whoever was on the other end of the phone, and continue to scold him or her for an hour. When Peggy finally resurfaced from the basement everyone was outside playing some sport, football, maybe, or maybe baseball? She looked absolutely exasperated.
"Are you alright?"
"Ugh." She collapsed on the couch next to her husband who had been 'reading a newspaper' (he'd been eavesdropping on her conversation). "It's been a chaotic day."
"Well it's almost over, and the kids are coming back tomorrow, so we'll be able to play with all of the grandkids again. Tomorrow will be better I promise."
Peggy was lying on the couch now, her head pressing against the armrest. Daniel moved her legs onto his lap and started massaging her sore legs. She sighed and seemed to sink into the cushions beneath her. "You are a godsend." She muttered, closing her eyes and taking a moment to relax.
He rubbed her legs and feet for a few moments until he spoke, "I need to start forming my will."
"Daniel, I'm not ready to have this conversation.” She closed her eyes and pressed her hands to her face.
"Well I am and this is important to me, Peggy. I need you to help me with this."
She sat up then, pulling her legs from his lap and crossing them Native American style as she faced him. He knew she was tired and done with the day, but he needed to get something off his chest, and, well this was a perfect time as any.
“Daniel, you still have a year or two left-”
“Not necessarily. I could have a heart attack and die, or fall down the stairs, or maybe the doc was wrong, and I only have a month left.” Her face, which was already contorted into a scowl from the stress of the day, fell then, and, for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, her eyes began to fill will pools of water. Daniel didn't want to upset her anymore than he already had, but he needed to make sure he gave something to her, something extremely important to him. “Peg, I don't want to make your day any worse, but we need to talk about something.”
She wiped the tear that had escaped in an effort to compose herself and spoke, “okay. What is it?”
“Well, obviously all of my possessions will go to you and the kids, but I think all of the furniture should stay here until you… You know.”
Peggy nodded in agreement. “Of course.”
He continued, “You can do what you wish will the small trinkets I've acquired over the years, but I do not want you to hold onto everything. You can't just sit in this house for the rest of your life missing me, understand?” He forced a laugh.
“Yes, sir.” She saluted him sarcastically.
“But there is one thing that I need you to hold onto for me.” Daniel reached beneath the collar of his shirt and unclasped the medallion he wore around his neck. Grabbing her by the wrist, he pressed the small chain into her hand.
“Daniel. No.” The tears in her eyes fell freely now, and she had no way of stopping them. “You can't give this to me. Not now. Please don't.”
This medallion was one of great importance to Daniel. During the war he and his comrades were on a scouting mission in Germany, trying to find a way through the blockade that had been formed around their allies by Hydra. In the darkness, he saw the light of the moon reflecting off of this small piece of metal, and as he bent down to retrieve it, a land mine exploded behind him- right where he was standing moments before- and blasted him across the field. As the blood poured out of his now demolished leg, he held onto the medallion tightly, thanking God for this small trinket that had saved his life. From that point on, Daniel wore that necklace and never removed it; he considered it his good luck charm, and, as long as he wore it, he knew he would be safe.
By removing it from around his neck, Peggy knew that Daniel was ready to die; he was willing to let his life end, and this token was his whole life passed on to hers- no more fighting for survival, no more prayers and hopes for a longer life. She could not control the river of salt water that streamed down her face as he held her hands, she couldn't even look at him. | 94568bf036004da2ad813e444a522876 | ['e39553b532bb4ad4ba31ad3f47e7d5cf'] | They were both teary-eyed now and she smiled through the watery streams that slid down her face. “And you are going to be a wonderful father.”
He slid his arm around her shoulder and placed his other hand on her swollen stomach. “I love you Peggy Carter!” he said as he rested his forehead against hers.
“I love you too, Daniel. And its Mrs. Sousa to you, mister.” He laughed as she kissed him soundly on the lips. Maybe she could do this after all.
~
Peggy had suffered many injuries during her time as a secret agent, but this pain was the worst she had ever felt in her life. She felt nauseous, and her abdomen felt like it was being torn in half and stabbed repeatedly with a knife. Her whole body was drenched in sweat and every muscle in her body felt weak and overused. Daniel sat by her side as the next wave of contractions hit her, sending piercing pain through her stomach. She squeezed his hand tightly as the doctor entered the room.
“Alright Mrs. Sousa, it’s time to start pushing. Mr. Sousa, would you mind stepping out of the room?”
“Yea, of course.” Daniel said. He hesitated after he stood up, turning to Peggy he kissed her. “I believe in you, Peggy. I love you so much! Good luck!” he squeezed her hand once more and left the room.
“I love you too!” She called after him.
“Are you ready, dear?” said the nurse standing to her left. Peggy nodded and gripped the side of the bed as she pushed with all of her might, and, soon enough, the sound of her screams became mingled with that of her daughter’s.
~
Everyone had left the room after cleaning up, and the nurse that had stood at Peggy’s side went to go get Daniel from the waiting room. As Peggy sat in bed, she looked down at the small person in her arms.
“Hi there, little one. I’m your mummy. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She whispered. “I’m so sorry that I ever doubted how much you mean to me. I was just so afraid of you, afraid that I wouldn’t be able to keep you safe,” a tear escaped and skimmed across Peggy’s red cheeks, “but now that I’ve met you I know that I will never let anyone hurt you. I will always be right here, okay? I promise. You will always be in my heart, my little girl.”
As Peggy stroked her daughter’s little hand, the newborn wrapped her tiny fingers around her mother’s and cooed. When she opened up her eyes, Peggy saw the same dark brown that both she and Daniel possessed. She was such a beautiful little baby; she had a cute button nose, large, curious eyes, and a warm smile that melted Peggy’s heart. Peggy was so fascinated by her daughter that she didn’t even hear the sound Daniel’s footsteps as he entered the hospital room. When she finally noticed him she looked up to find him gazing at the small child in Peggy’s arms with tears in his eyes.
“Is it a girl?” Peggy nodded in response and he laughed. “I knew it!” He moved to the bed and Peggy slid to one side to give him space to join her. When he sat down he kissed her tenderly on the lips, and then bent down and placed a light kiss on their daughter’s head.
“What shall we name her?” he asked after a moment of comfortable silence.
“I don’t know.” Peggy thought aloud. She looked her husband in the eyes and proposed, “What about Isabelle?”
He paused in thought and looked down at the little bundle in his wife’s arms. “Isabelle Carter-Sousa? Hmm…” he processed the name and looked back up into Peggy’s large brown eyes, the same eyes their daughter inherited. “I love that name.” Peggy smiled and the happy tears that had been forming in Daniel’s eyes dropped onto his cheeks. “Hello, Izzy! It’s nice to meet you.”
They sat on the bed and watched as their little Isabelle drifted off to sleep, knowing that despite the dangers of their jobs, that this little baby was going to be the best thing that ever happened to them. She was the start of a new life for them both, and they couldn’t be happier.
~
For one so small,
You seem so strong
My arms will hold you,
Keep you safe and warm
This bond between us
Can’t be broken
I will be here, don’t you cry
Cause you’ll be in my heart
Yes, you’ll be in my heart
From this day on
Now and forever more |
9a4ce65e9b524940b721e3a74e8622cf | ['e39af5cc71f3498d9fb4ee544034e430'] | “You’ve been quiet,” Taehyung glanced at Jungkook and tried to hide his smirk. “How are you feeling about my breakup, Jungkook?” he asked with the most innocent voice he could muster.
“I…” Jungkook blinked and looked down at his hands. “I’m also fine,” he repeated Taehyung’s earlier answer.
“Interesting,” Taehyung nodded nonchalantly.
Jungkook sighed and looked at Taehyung again, knowing full well how they were both feeling. He wordlessly reached out and took Taehyung’s right hand in his left. Then he brought it to his mouth and gave it a soft kiss and Taehyung had to try his best to focus on the road ahead.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Jungkook murmured against Taehyung’s hand.
“What? Kiss my hand?” Taehyung asked, very aware that his voice was a bit shaky.
“Just kissing you,” Jungkook whispered.
Taehyung almost missed the turn. It was lucky there were no cars behind him. “That’s…” he cleared his throat and squeezed Jungkook’s hand. “I’m driving, you know?”
“I’m aware of that,” Jungkook chuckled and kissed Taehyung’s hand once more before putting it down on his lap and interlacing their fingers together. “I’m not trying anything else, as you can see.”
Taehyung was very thankful for that. He already felt _too much_ with just a hand kiss. Who knew what would happen to him if Jungkook did something else. The feeling of Jungkook’s hand in his was familiar, because they had done this multiple times. However, it seemed different now. Hand holding was no longer the limit of their relationship.
He was glad that the supermarket was only five minutes away from the apartment, because mere moments later he was turning to the familiar parking garage.
As soon as he parked the car, Jungkook took off his seatbelt and pretty much climbed over the gear shift and maneuvered himself onto Taehyung’s lap. Taehyung was surprised but he steadied Jungkook’s waist with one hand and moved his seat further back with the other to create more space.
“Thanks,” Jungkook smiled before putting both of his hands on Taehyung’s shoulders.
He leaned down and Taehyung automatically closed his eyes. His heart started speeding up and he prayed that Jungkook did not hear it.
If Taehyung was to be completely honest with himself, he had imagined this scenario countless times. But after a few moments, nothing happened, so Taehyung opened his eyes curiously.
His heart skipped a beat. Jungkook was looking down at him with soft and hooded eyes. There was a small smile on his face and Taehyung wondered _how_ Jungkook could affect him this much.
“Are you sure about this?” Jungkook gently asked. “I’m trying so hard not to kiss you right now, because I want to hear your answer first.”
“I’m sure,” Taehyung swallowed. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more sure about anything. I like you so much.”
“You also broke up with Namjoon-hyung last week,” Jungkook reminded him with a soft voice. “It’s okay if we take things slow, you know.”
Taehyung sighed uncontrollably, “That’s the last thing I want though. I’ve been waiting so long for you to kiss me.”
Jungkook kept his gaze and smiled warmly. Then one of his hands was around the back of Taehyung’s neck and he leaned down. Taehyung swallowed then closed his eyes again.
He felt the warmth of Jungkook’s breath on his face, and a second later, there was the softest of touch on his lips. Taehyung quickly responded to the kiss and he smiled when he heard _and felt_ Jungkook inhale sharply.
Taehyung had kissed many people. Some kisses meant more to him than others. Over the last year the only kisses that meant something were from Namjoon.
However, this kiss with Jungkook was beyond anything he could imagine. The feeling of Jungkook’s lips on his was indescribable. All he knew was that he could kiss Jungkook forever, because it felt like Jungkook’s lips belong on his.
When Jungkook slightly sat up and disconnected their lips, Taehyung took a breath and chased after him immediately. Jungkook chuckled and quickly kissed him again.
“Tae,” Jungkook murmured against Taehyung’s lips for the fraction of a second that they separated, “We should probably go inside.”
“In a minute,” Taehyung replied, “You taste so good.”
Jungkook whined and pressed their lips together once more. He had no idea that kissing Taehyung would be this addicting. “Tae,” he whispered again and fully sat up this time. “I think everyone’s waiting for us.”
“Right,” Taehyung nodded and squeezed Jungkook’s waist.
Both of his hands had found their home there without his knowledge. He realized that Jungkook’s waist was tiny. He had only touched it once but he loved it already.
He noticed that Jungkook made no move to get off his lap. Not that he had any complaints.
“Am I heavy?” Jungkook smiled shyly.
“Not at all,” Taehyung shook his head. “You feel really solid on me. Not that you’re heavy or anything, it’s just… it’s nice to have someone sit on my lap.” He wondered if he was rambling. “Actually, I wouldn’t know, since no one’s ever sat on my lap before. I’m just saying that I like you here.”
Jungkook looked at him with an amused expression, but he was also smiling, so Taehyung smiled as well. Now that he really thought about it, he had been smiling so much.
“Do you want to go on a date with me?” Jungkook asked.
Taehyung nodded immediately. “I’d love to. When are you free?”
Jungkook opened his mouth, but quickly closed it and frowned. “I have a couple exams coming up so I’m cramming for them,” he sighed. “And I really want to go to Fashion Week, so I have to finish studying before then.”
“We can go on a date later,” Taehyung reassured him. “Your school work is more important, Jungkook-ah. We’re not in any rush.” | a82822cc5c184fd0a65ab719d33ae554 | ['e39af5cc71f3498d9fb4ee544034e430'] | “Should we go to sleep now?” – He shut down the laptop and looked at Jeongguk, who was still observing him. – “I don’t want to write anymore. Sorry, you’re still doing homework.” – He remembered. – “I’ll wait for you.”
Taehyung stood up and put the laptop on his desk. When he sat back down on the bed, Jeongguk was still looking at him.
“Everything okay?” – Taehyung asked with raised eyebrows. – “Is there something on my face?”
“I just think you’re so amazing.” – Jeongguk said earnestly.
“Uh… thank you?” – Taehyung scratched his ear. – “You are amazing too.”
“Let’s go to sleep.” – Jeongguk closed his book. – “I’m not gonna be able to get any homework done right now anyway.”
“Such a good student you are.” – Taehyung teased but stood up again to turn off the lights.
* * *
_4 O’clock._ Chapter 5. Page 98 _._
_“We’re closing in five minutes.”_ _–_ _Bunny looked up from cleaning the glasses when the bell chimed, surprised to see Jack walking in alone._
_“That’s okay.”_ _–_ _Jack smiled at sat down in front of him._ _–_ _“Just here for the company.”_
_Bunny blinked._
_“Do you mean my company?”_ _–_ _He asked in an uncertain voice._
_“You’re almost done with your shift right?”_ _–_ _Jack raised his eyebrows._ _–_ _“I just want to talk to you for a little bit. Do you want to grab something to eat?”_
_“At thee in the morning? And you mean_ _…_ _together?”_ _–_ _Bunny asked again._ _–_ _“No thank you. I cooked something before leaving for work this afternoon.”_
_“You don’t have to sound so offended.”_ _–_ _Jack laughed._ _–_ _“I ate already so it would be just you eating and me talking. But that’s fine, no worries. What did you cook?”_
_“Lasagna.”_ _–_ _Bunny sighed happily._ _–_ _“I’m getting hungry just thinking about it. Anyway, what did you want to talk about? You can talk now since you’re the only customer here.”_
_Jack stared at him for a moment before smiling brightly._
_“I just want to say thank you again.”_ _–_ _He said._ _–_ _“For what you did for me at the bridge. You saved my life, literally.”_
_Bunny held his gaze and smiled back before continuing cleaning the glasses._
_“You don’t have to keep thanking me, Jack. I did what anyone would do.”_
_“No, I think people would just walk past me or leave me alone after I told them to.”_ _–_ _Jack shook his head._ _–_ _“I wasn’t in a good space mentally so I would have done something_ _…_ _tragic had you not been there.”_
_“Well, maybe it’s fate that I was there then.”_ _–_ _Bunny shrugged._
_“I think it is.”_ _–_ _Jack agreed and looked down at his watch._ _–_ _“So, it’s officially closing time.”_
_“I’m gonna clean up and then close the bar.”_ _–_ _Bunny set the glass down._ _–_ _“You can leave whenever you want.”_
_“I’ll help.”_ _–_ _Jack said and stood up, then began to move the barstools closer together._
_“What? No. Why?”_ _–_ _Bunny scrunched his eyebrows._ _–_ _“You’re a customer, and an actor. Just_ _…_ _talk to me some more. What have you been up to? Haven’t seen you in here for almost a month.”_
_Jack remained standing anyway and walked to the booths to collect the empty glasses, despite Bunny’s protest._
_“I’ve been ‘restoring my image,’ as my manager put it.”_ _–_ _He made air-quotes while rolling his eyes._ _–_ _“Lots of charity, fundraising events, non-profit and the likes. They were quite therapeutic and fulfilling actually.”_
_“Did you go abroad?”_ _–_ _Bunny asked curiously._
_“Yep. South Africa and Guatemala.”_ _–_ _Jack placed the glasses on the bar in front of Bunny._ _–_ _“I thought that I wouldn’t enjoy the trips, but I loved them. I met so many wonderful people, mostly children, who changed my perspective of life.”_
_“That’s good.”_ _–_ _Bunny replied._ _–_ _“Do you want to have children of your own someday?”_
_Bunny wondered why that question just flew out of his mouth before his brain had the chance to think about it._
_“I used to.”_ _–_ _Jack smiled sadly._ _–_ _“Justin and I were planning to adopt.”_
_Bunny always thought that he was a good listener. With his job as a bartender, he felt like he had so much experience listening to people. But he just had to ask Jack that question and destroyed the pleasant mood Jack was in._
_“I’m so sorry.”_ _–_ _He sighed regretfully._ _–_ _“I didn’t mean to_ _…_ _”_
_“Bunny, don’t worry about it.”_ _–_ _Jack cut him off._ _–_ _“It’s okay. I’m_ _…_ _I’m getting better talking about him.”_
_There was a hint of tremor in his voice and Bunny felt like the worst person on the planet for making him feel that way._
_“You’re the only person who knows.”_ _–_ _Jack suddenly said._ _–_ _“I’ve never talked about him with anyone else. People wouldn’t understand.”_
_“Not even your manager? Or your family?”_ _–_ _Bunny asked with a pained voice._
_“Especially not my manager. As for my family, after_ _…_ _after it happened they always look at me like I’m a lost puppy whenever I mention him. So I stopped. But I always miss him, you know? And I can’t tell anyone.”_
_“You can tell me.”_ _–_ _Bunny replied in an earnest voice. And he sat down next to Jack and put his hand on top of his._ _–_ _“I would never tell anyone else. I can even sign a non-disclosure form if you want me to.”_
_“I would never make you sign one.”_ _–_ _Jack shook his head quickly._
_“You are way too trusting for someone of your position.”_ _–_ _Bunny laughed and took his hand back._
_Jack had no idea why he held on to his hand._
_“I’m being honest.”_ _–_ _He eventually said, squeezing Bunny’s hand._ _–_ _“You’re like my friend. Actually you’re the closest thing to a friend that I have these days.”_ |
5a3b976be3624c75883054b66d8bbc0a | ['e3d328f813c54fbab2c4ebe393ba3b1c'] | "None whatsoever!" said Fisk, slapping a meaty fist on his desk. "Look around you! The Green Goblin is nothing more than an unhinged buffoon with a set of powerful toys! His empire is crumbling faster than he can build it up! Doctor Octopus: jailed. The Jackal: unmasked and hospitalized. The _Scarlet Spider_ ," he spat the name with such thorough disdain, "turned against him. You're all he has left… unless you agree to come work for me."
"But… my daughter…"
"As we speak, I have men poised to take her into protective custody," said Fisk. "Now do you see, Lonnie? You have _no choice_ but to accept my terms, as offered."
Tombstone closed his eyes and nodded his assent. He'd been outplayed from all sides, and now his defeat was entire. "Very well. I accept. What do you need me to do?"
Wilson Fisk walked over to Tombstone, reached out one massive hand, and wrapped it around his throat. He picked up Tombstone with one arm, while the granite-skinned albino grasped and struggled in utter futility against the Kingpin's raw physical strength. "My first order is simplicity itself. I need you to die."
Tombstone gasped for breath in the Kingpin's grip. "What… but… I agreed…" he choked.
"You're far too ambitious a man to serve as a lieutenant of mine," said the Kingpin. "I'm not so stupid as to put the likes of you within reach of _my_ empire!" He walked over to the window, opened it, and thrust Tombstone outside, dangling him out over the street, eighty-seven stories below. "But," continued Fisk, "I am not a heartless man. I've done you this great favor. With you out of the picture, the Green Goblin will have no reason to come after your loved ones. Don't worry about Janice, Lonnie: I'll see that she's well-treated." Then he let go.
Tombstone felt himself falling. As he fell, he saw his life flash before his eyes. It had at first been a life of ridicule and torment, early on for his albino appearance, later for the after-effects of the chemical accident which had given him his superhuman strength and constitution. But he had worked himself up in the ranks of the Maggia, the crime syndicate under Silvermane. Eventually, Silvermane had been brought down by the Big Man, and in those days, Tombstone was Foswell's right-hand man. It looked like he would have been Foswell's successor, too, but then… well, then Tombstone hit the ground, punched right through a parked car, and went several feet down into the pavement. And that was the end of Lonnie Thompson Lincoln.
Up on the eighty-seventh floor of Fisk Tower, Hammerhead smirked; but the Kingpin just stared down at the street below. The _Daily Bugle_ would likely run an article tomorrow on Lincoln's "unfortunate accident". That would be easy enough to arrange. But the Green Goblin _had_ gotten uncomfortably close to building a coalition against him. The primary danger he posed came from his ability to assemble a team of super-powered individuals. That was a problem that required an immediate solution. "Hammerhead," he said, turning to his lieutenant. "I want you to find the roboticist, Spencer Smythe. Have him brought to me, at once."
"Uh, sure thing, boss," said Hammerhead. "You want him roughed up a little first?"
Kingpin shot Hammerhead a queer look that somehow managed to mix contempt with appreciation. "Eh… no. Undamaged, thank you."
• • •
The day after that, May Parker came home from the hospital. Peter and Gwen helped her to the couch, but she waved them off. "I'm not an invalid," she insisted. "Honestly, I'm feeling much better now."
Once she was settled in, May asked, "Is Mary Jane around?"
Peter and Gwen both shook their heads. "I haven't seen her since yesterday," said Peter.
"Me either," said Gwen.
"Well, I just wanted to make it clear, Peter, that while MJ's staying with us, I don't want the two of you sneaking around in the basement, getting involved in any hanky-panky…"
"We don't—!" Peter began. Then he sobered and said, "I really don't think either of us would be… uh… in the mood for what you call 'hanky-panky'."
"Take it from me," said May. "This is an emotional time for the girl. Grief, guilt… they can cloud your judgment, stop you from thinking."
"What are you, uh, saying, Aunt May?"
"Oh… never mind. But if you've got a minute, I'd like to talk about something else, in private. Gwen, would you mind excusing us for a bit?"
"Yeah, sure," said Gwen quietly. She went up to her room without another word.
"What do you want to talk about?" asked Peter.
"Spider-Man," said Aunt May.
Peter felt a lump solidify in his throat. "Spider-Man?"
"Mm-hm. I saw him, the other night, on the Watsons' front lawn." May looked Peter in the eye. "For some reason, I can't stop thinking about this Spider-Man character. Trying to piece together why he always seems so… I don't know, so close to us, so involved in our lives. And then it just… hit me."
While May spoke, Peter's mind was racing at a million thoughts per second. Explanations, excuses, just coming clean, every possibility presented itself; none of it was appealing.
"Peter, is there anything that you want to tell me… about Spider-Man?"
_Oh,_ thought Peter. _So she knows, then._ "Aunt May… the doctor said you can't take any sudden—"
"Don't give me that!" snapped May, suddenly angry. "You can play games with me, Peter, right up until they start coming to our houses and putting us in the hospital—or in the ground. Then it's time to start telling the truth!"
"All right," said Peter. "But I don't want to talk about this until I'm sure that you're feeling better. Just give it a couple of days, all right?"
"Okay," said May. "But then we're going to sit down, and we're going to have a long discussion about this." | 10140e38dedc477a98e04fd409ec7a4d | ['e3d328f813c54fbab2c4ebe393ba3b1c'] | "Well, he hasn't met you either, but he wants to fix that. Even asked me to pass the message along in person. You have an open invitation to swing by SHIELD Headquarters sometime and meet the big guy in charge—by which I do not mean the Hulk." Tony shrugged his shoulders (again, given his armor, kind of impressive). "My first guess was, he wanted to offer you a spot on the Avengers, but now that I meet you, I'm thinking Fury plans to start a little-league. Anyway, if you don't find him, he'll find you. Jarvis, what time is it? Damn; gotta fly." And with those words, he did—literally, out the window, at nearly 200 miles an hour.
Peter watched after him, still more than a little awestruck. "Wow. We just met Tony Stark."
"Oh God," said MJ, letting her face fall into her hands. "I think I'm going to be sick."
"Whoa, not here!" said Ben, holding up his hands. "If you need the bathroom, it's over there!"
"You don't get it," said MJ, looking up at everybody, tears forming in her eyes again. "The things that Jackal and Goblin made me do… I broke _Electro_ out of prison! I robbed banks, beat people up… Peter, I've killed people!"
"That wasn't you!" said Peter, kneeling down in front of MJ and tearing off his mask. (At this point, he really didn't care at all if the Thing saw his face.) "Mind-control doesn't count. It's a… an on-the-job hazard for super-hero types, so it doesn't count. Right, Johnny?"
"Yeah, totally," said Johnny. "Doctor Doom pulls that kind of crap all the time. Anything you did while you were hypnotized was absolutely not your fault."
"Matchstick's got it right for once," agreed Ben. "You can't blame yourself, kiddo. 'Specially if there was nothing you could do to stop any of it."
"Ugh… can we talk about this later?" MJ stood up and started pacing around the room. "Right now, I just want to find the two bastards that did this to me and bonk their heads together!"
Peter shot MJ a worried look, but he didn't say anything.
"What is it?" she asked.
"MJ… the Goblin and the Jackal know who you really are."
MJ's face fell. "Aw, crap." Then her eyes went wide. "My mom and dad! Peter, we have to get home! If the bad guys find out that I've been deprogrammed—" She ran for the window and extended an arm to shoot a web, but Peter grabbed her by the shoulders to stop her.
"Wait!" he said. "Let's just think about this for a second! Listen: they won't know you've been cured until they try to trigger you again, so let's use that."
"What do you mean?"
"I'll explain on the way home," said Peter. "I've got a plan." Turning to Johnny, he said, "Thanks a million, buddy. We owe you big for this."
Johnny answered with a cheeky grin. "You owe me precisely one cute blonde's phone number. Gwen, I believe her name was?"
"Oh… yeah, uh, maybe some other time," said Peter. "She's going through some personal stuff right now that I really don't have time to explain… but I can tell you that she likes you."
"I guess I'll have to take that in the meantime," said Johnny. "And, as always, if you want my help with the bad guys, you know where to find me."
"Thanks," said MJ, "but you're not the one who's just been mind-raped. I don't know if I want to be a super-hero yet… but I do know that I need to finish _this_ for myself." She crawled up onto the window-sill, put out her arm… and pulled it back again. "Uh, Peter? How do these web-thingies work again?"
• • •
In spite of herself, MJ really was enjoying her first lesson in web-slinging. Sailing through the air, swinging from building to building, was nothing short of _amazing_. She could _stick to walls_ now. She was almost as fast as Peter, and she was even stronger than he was. It was still painful to think of all the terrible things that she'd been compelled to do—the crimes she'd been made to commit—the lives she'd taken—and all of that was to say nothing of the fact that her loved ones were now in grave danger without even knowing it. But despite everything, in a sick and twisted kind of way, the Jackal and the Green Goblin had given her a gift—a mighty gift that she could now turn right back upon them. She had great power now… and she fully intended to use that power to crack a few deserving skulls.
More than anything, MJ really wanted a chance to just sit down and talk to Peter about what she should do next, long-term. Should she join him as a super-hero? Become his partner? Right now, that was an appealing, if scary, thought. Then again, a large part of her wanted to take the Scarlet Spider costume and throw it away, or burn it, so that she would never have to see it again. She didn't necessarily _have_ to do what Peter did. He was wracked with guilt over the death of Uncle Ben. At the moment, MJ felt no small measure of guilt herself, over the things she'd been made to do as Scarlet Spider; but, at least intellectually, she was aware that none of it had really been her fault. She wasn't responsible. If she ever finally came to terms with that, would she still be able to carry on the crusade with the same unending fervor—one might even say 'obsession'—as Peter?
She didn't really know the answer. It was a question that would have to wait until after this business with her two vile tormentors could finally be put to rest. |
c0f365db18df48bca6e492cff6484cfc | ['e3d565f7fe524ac8b0d6decc24b2e428'] | A whistle sounded in the distance, then followed the explosion and crackling of an alien firework that lit the night sky with twinkling ashes. Below the people cheered loudly.
Shiro pulled away from their embrace first, cupping Lance's chin between cool metal fingers.
“I mean every word, Lance.”
The sweetness in his voice was thicker than honey, shimmering gray eyes looking into his own with such an open honesty that Lance melted. He let his tears drip freely down his face as he reached his free hand up to hold Shiro’s cheek.
“I believe you. I'll always believe in you. It’s just- It’s just hard sometimes.”
Shiro hummed in agreement, prosthetic thumb now brushing at the tears that had trickled down the tan check it held.
“Remember that we are here for you, Lance. Don’t sit alone with these thoughts, you have the whole team. You have me.” And with that, Lance leaned up and pressed his lips to Shiro’s. Warm. Gentle. Innocent. A kiss that’s shared between the two often but it always brings a feeling of spring through Lance, like a blooming flower in his being that gave way to feeling in love all over again.
_ It’s okay _ , he thought, _ I’m okay. _
"How about we go down and meet the others now? I think there are some competitive games you and Keith might enjoy."
**Author's Note:**
> Hey friends! I hope you enjoyed this short thing, I've had it sitting in my files for who knows how long. Lance is definitely an open character that spills his feelings everywhere, but sometimes you gotta suck it up when the going gets tough and that could lead to clogging your emotions. At least he has Shiro to remind him of that.
> Find me on Tumblr @waffle-walks | cf6b465dfa9e4ae0975bae9948449a3e | ['e3d565f7fe524ac8b0d6decc24b2e428'] |
It's Okay
The planet was lively with freedom’s praise. Alien peoples gathered in the streets, along with a joyous parade thrown in the honor of Voltron and the heroes piloting it. Fluffy clouds stacked themselves on the horizon of the shimmering water of the planet. Smells of cooking food wafted from the streets to the upper levels, the entirety of the jovial setting was sure to make even Zarkon smile.
Yet Lance sat alone in his ruffled formal gown, bent over an elegant glass railing on an obscure balcony. His gaze was focused on nothing in particular, while his mind raced a hundred miles a minute. Thoughts of home. Family. Galaxy Garrison. Blue. Rain. The ocean.
He misses it all. It’s a deep-set feeling, a sort of hollowness that had settled in his chest. Tugging on him, like a gentle string. Bouts of longing usually came in waves, moreso when he was left alone with only his mind as company.
It’s a cruel thing, the mind.
Vast, full of so much potential. Kind of like space. Where everything seems so far away, so distant and never changing. But it’s also _ so _ connected. Pulled by gravity and always changing. Strong. Inevitable.
It’s scary. So _ so _ scary. Anything could happen. He could forget his family. Forget the way his mother would scold him and pinch his ear, how his father would tell him inspiring lessons from his own life, how his siblings would always pester each other.
He was afraid to forget the ocean most of all. His ocean. The beach he grew up on. The salty mist and the soft sand that would stick between his toes. No planet he’s come across has a beach like Varadero.
He swirled the cup in his hand, watched as the pink liquid shimmered from the lights around him. It glittered like the very stars he fights to protect.
Fighting. A war that has lasted over 10,000 years. A war that he’s got no idea how long it will take to fight.
_ What do I fight for? What’s the point of it all? _
It’s rolling onto him thicker, his back and shoulders hot with agitation as he tugged at the sheer collar of his gown. His vision blurred with tears that refused to fall.
_ Stupid war. Stupid space. Stupid brain. Stupid feelings. Stupid, stupid, stupid- _
“Lance?” A deep voice called to him softly, and then a hand touched his back just underneath the shoulder blade.
“What are you doing alone out here? Everyone else is- have you been crying?”
The blue paladin quickly rubbed the tears away, laughing.
“Wha- Me? Crying? No not at all. Manly men like me don’t cry.” The hand on his back moved to rest low on his waist while he was pulled into the voice’s arms.
“Lance. Just because you’re manly doesn’t mean you can’t cry.”
He vaguely noted somewhere in his clustered thoughts that the voice was Shiro.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Shiro inquired, his prosthetic moving to card through the brown hair and overheated scalp.
The slight chill of the metal soothed him.
He was silent, trying to organize the chaos that was his mind. His throat burned at the words he wanted to say. There was just _ so _ many things Lance wanted to talk about. A small sob made its way from his vocals, and the black paladin pulled him closer as the brunet let himself fall apart and unwind - like a ball of yarn being unraveled. The stress of constant battle and unknown futures pushing him over the edge after weeks of bottling up to do his job.
When his sobbing dissolved to hiccups, he wrapped his arms around Shiro’s shoulders.
“Do you ever miss home?”
“Home?”
“Earth. Your family. Weather, the sun and the moon and annoying babies in stores where regular Earth food and Earth clothes were sold.” Lance had a white-knuckled grip on the back of Shiro’s thin cloak.
They held each other is stilted silence.
“I do miss it, sometimes. It's where we are from and holds memories dear to us all. I have only my mother and father, but they think I'm dead because of the garrison. I do miss my corner in the library I would visit, and coffee. But Lance, we have a mission here now, we hav-”
“WHAT MISSION? What goal do we have? We are _ in space fighting giant purple furries for what? _ I just want- I just want to go home, Shiro.”
He heard the leader take a deep breath, the distant sounds of festivities ringing up from the crowd below.
“Lance,” he started softly, “I understand that you want to go home. The entire team does. You aren't alone in how you feel. But as to what we are fighting for? Taking down the empire. Protecting the homes we want safe. You have to ask yourself what you are protecting, the lions chose us for a reason. You have to trust that your own potential is the key to fighting for what you want.”
The blue paladin nuzzled his face into the crook of Shiro's neck and intertwined their fingers.
“Shiro?”
“Yes Lance?”
“What are you fighting to protect?”
The man in question pondered a bit, letting out a thoughtful hum that played into Lance’s ear.
“I fight to protect my parents and friends on Earth. I fight to protect the rain, to protect the place I called home and and everything extending from there. I'm fighting to protect what the others of Earth aren't able to. And I fight…” he trailed off, piquing Lance’s interest.
“You fight for what? I couldn't hear that last part.”
The black paladin cleared his throat, his grip on the brunet tightening.
“I fight to protect you too, Lance.”
Lance looked at their intertwined fingers, wrapped like the gentle vines that climbed many of the structures on the planet they now stood. |
c5566c7bb6b642cf8503a7720c8a68da | ['e3f9c5047cdb46e9a35bde9ae5ea6ff9'] | The captain had referred to Sunrise Shore as a camp, but there were many wooden buildings. Jaera was brought to one she'd heard referred to as the tribute house. She'd expected something like a dormitory or a barracks, but it was in fact a comfortable home not too different from the farmhouses of Tall Pines, with an open central room used for meals and two private spaces for sleeping. One bed was for Jaera; the other was shared by her two guards, Frona and Karuo. A guard was always awake and alert, making sure Jaera didn't try to escape—though Jaera, her imagination inflamed by Captain Daruni's tales, had no desire to escape at all.
Jaera had expected further training, but Captain Daruni had many other duties now that she was reunited with the queen and her army. "You know what you need to know," she said. "Telling you anything else would ruin the surprise." With those tantalizing words, she left Jaera to wait for the summons from the queen.
She didn't have to wait long. After two restless days and nights in Sunrise Shore, Jaera was roused by Frona knocking on her chamber door. "Time to be up, my lady," she called. "You've an audience with the queen in an hour."
With shaking hands, Jaera pulled on her skirt and straps, omitting underclothes as the captain had instructed. She ran her fingers through her short hair to fluff it out and splashed cold water on her face to shock herself out of her nerves. Karuo made her eat a bowl of plain porridge. When Captain Daruni arrived with the rolled-up treaty tucked under one arm, Jaera was as ready as she could make herself.
"Lady Jaera," the captain said formally.
Jaera clasped her hands behind her back, bowed, and kept her eyes low. "Captain Daruni."
Without another word, the captain turned and led the way, and Jaera followed, her guards at her heels.
She snuck glances up now and again but saw very little of the building that housed Queen Feluri's winter court. Captain Daruni led her to a door where guards snapped to attention, and then they were in what seemed to be a long room curving off to the left and right. They continued forward, through another door, and out into a courtyard that was open to the sky. The building itself was a ring, Jaera thought, with the courtyard at its heart.
Sand crunched under their feet and the morning sun slanted down, warming her skin. She heard voices murmuring; of course, there would be courtiers in attendance. She wished she could look up and see how they were looking at her, or even whether they noticed her at all.
The captain stopped and stepped to one side. Jaera knew she must be before her new queen. She squeezed her hands together at the small of her back and desperately tried to keep her gaze fixed on the patch of sand in front of her.
"Kneel," the captain said softly.
She sank slowly to her knees, her posture impeccable.
"Honor."
She pressed her forehead to the ground. The soft sand cradled her breasts, gently chafing her nipples.
"Rise."
She came to her feet. She had a terrible suspicion that sand was stuck to her forehead and her chest, but didn't dare brush at it.
"You may look at me," a low, relaxed voice said in front of her.
Jaera raised her eyes and beheld Queen Feluri for the first time.
The queen was not the giant warrior she'd expected, but a middle-aged woman of middling size whose hair was streaked with gray. Her scars were a map of the battles she'd fought, and her powerful muscles testified to how she'd won. She was barefoot and unarmed but did not look the least bit vulnerable. She sat crosslegged on an unadorned wooden platform, her crimson-dyed skirt covering her thighs and one leather strap threatening to slip off her shoulder, and studied Jaera closely.
No, Jaera realized, Queen Feluri's muscles weren't how she'd won her battles. Those piercing eyes spoke of a sharp and calculating mind capable of brilliant strategy and canny negotiation. In the revealing clothing, Jaera already felt naked, but Queen Feluri's gaze seemed to flay her down to the bone.
Jaera flushed deeply and dropped to her knees again, her head bowed, her awe unbidden and sincere.
"How sweet," the queen said, gentle and amused. "You may speak."
Jaera took a deep breath and recited the formula she had memorized: "Queen Feluri of Golden Sands, on behalf of Raela of Tall Pines, greetings. I, Jaera daughter of Raela, humbly present myself as tribute to you, most gracious and mighty queen. My body is yours and my life is yours, in gratitude that you have spared the bodies and lives of the people of Tall Pines. I beg you to accept this tribute and seal the treaty between our peoples." Then she pressed her forehead to the ground again, shut her eyes tightly, and waited to learn her fate.
She heard the platform creak, and then footsteps soft in the sand next to her. The queen circled her once, then bent over her and brushed a hand down her back. Jaera shivered. A few of the courtiers whispered and someone muffled a laugh.
Queen Feluri knelt in front of her, and Jaera could feel the sudden coolness on the skin of her back as the queen's shadow blocked the sun. She leaned down and, to Jaera's complete shock, slowly licked a stripe down the back of Jaera's neck, savoring her sweat. The touch seemed to light sparks inside of Jaera, and she could feel sudden wetness between her legs.
"My captain tells me you want this," the queen said softly.
"Yes," Jaera said. "More than anything." | 1faf714b778a4b549c839e5db9432ff9 | ['e3f9c5047cdb46e9a35bde9ae5ea6ff9'] | There was a rustle of cloth, and something brushed against Jaera's head. She realized the queen had removed her skirt. The courtiers were no longer whispering. It was so silent in the courtyard that she could hear seagulls calling from down by the shore.
"Show me," the queen said, and she dug her hands into Jaera's hair and pulled Jaera's face to the musky join of her thighs.
Jaera's eyes flew open, her senses assailed by new scents and textures. The triangle of hair before her was rough and shaggy, and Jaera wasn't sure how to find her way through it to the center of pleasure. Thinking of how she explored her own body at night, Jaera brought her tongue low and licked up, finding the seam that parted the queen's fleshy lips and exposed the slick, tender skin she sought. She was rewarded by Queen Feluri pressing against her mouth, nails scratching against her scalp, and by the rich taste of her nectar, half animal and half ocean.
Jaera longed to plunge her fingers into those heated depths, but she kept her hands behind her and used only her mouth, working her tongue upward to find the queen's bud. Tentative at first, she became more bold as the hands in her hair directed and encouraged her, licking and sucking with all the yearning and hunger that had built up inside her over the years. This was what she was made for. This was what she had always needed. A lifetime of other people bowing and kneeling to her was erased by the perfect rightness of her knees in the sand, her skin exposed to anyone who might look, and her face nestled between the legs of the warrior queen.
Queen Feluri ground herself against Jaera's mouth, moaning, as Jaera lapped at her, caressing the tender bud with her tongue. The queen's scent in her nose was shockingly arousing, and now Jaera was moaning too, her voice vibrating against the queen's body. Wetness trickled down her thighs. She squeezed her legs together and focused on bringing the queen to her peak.
Before long, Queen Feluri was roaring her pleasure, her scarred, muscled thighs shuddering. She pulled Jaera's head away and Jaera couldn't hold back a little whimper of yearning and disappointment.
"So eager," the queen said, gasping out a laugh as she patted Jaera's sticky cheek. Some of the courtiers laughed as well. Jaera knew she should be more modest, but modesty fell away in the face of how purely fulfilled she was by being permitted to serve the queen. She bowed her head in gratitude, not in shame, and tried to catch her breath.
"I accept this tribute from the people of Tall Pines," the queen said, her voice now clear and carrying. "As you have given me your body and your life, so I will spare their bodies and their lives. Tall Pines is now under the protection of Golden Sands and none may lay a hand upon those who live there. Raela of Tall Pines is appointed governor in my name. So say I, Queen Feluri of Golden Sands."
Only long training kept Jaera from crumpling to the ground in gratitude and relief. She made reverence again, feeling the sand coat her face. "Thank you, most gracious queen," she said fervently.
"You may depart," the queen said. She rested her hand briefly on Jaera's head, then stood and walked away. Jaera heard the rustle of her putting her skirt back on and the creak as she returned to her platform. There was a scratching sound of quill across parchment, the queen making her mark on the treaty. The onlookers' chatter resumed.
"Rise," Captain Daruni said from behind Jaera. She started; she had forgotten the captain was there. Slowly she rose to her feet, aware that she must be quite a sight, self-consciousness creeping back in now that the queen's overwhelming presence no longer held it at bay. As she followed the captain out of the courtyard, she kept her gaze on the ground and pretended that not being able to see anyone meant no one could see her. Her thighs rubbed together slickly as she walked.
"You did well," the captain said quietly. Jaera was warmed by the praise, but what mattered far more was the memory of that final touch on her head, the gentleness of the hand that had so recently gripped her hair.
Jaera had no idea what was in store now that the tribute had been made and accepted. Perhaps she would be the queen's favorite. Perhaps she would be forgotten. But Jaera knew that even if she waited her whole life for the queen to touch her again, she would count it a life well spent.
The queen was not _her_ queen. But forevermore, Jaera would be Queen Feluri's lady. |
67dc9d9cf81a4582819c971edaa244a2 | ['e3fbc02be47a4c2c8bdff5304b122c4b'] | There were too many cameras. Lights flashed, momentarily blinding Diego and making him blink, which caused even more tears to fall. He was suddenly grateful for Klaus’s advice, and he tilted his head down to look at his shoes. At least those weren’t giving him a massive headache. Yet.
He filed into the pew, shoved between Luther and Allison. He continued to stare at the ground, his shoelaces, anything so he wouldn’t have to see the gap that existed between Klaus and Vanya.
“Afternoon.”
Diego knew it was the mayor speaking. _Because of course Reginald would get the mayor to speak,_ he thought angrily.
“We are gathered here to celebrate the life of one Ben Hargreeves. A boy taken too early in his life, he was a hero to many, including myself…” Diego couldn’t help but tune the mayor out. Her false words made him sick to his stomach.
Diego took a deep breath and slipped his hand into his pocket. He pulled out a folded piece of paper and opened it, though he didn’t need to. All of that practice was enough for him to have his speech fully memorized. However, as he looked at the words on the shaking paper, he realized just how daunting the task ahead of him was.
“I would like to introduce our first speaker: Ben’s brother, and close friend. Diego Hargreeves!” The mayor motioned for him to join her on the stage with a smile and suddenly all eyes were on him. Cameras flashed quickly, looking like strobe lights at a club. There was even some anticipatory chatter that made its way through the hall.
He quickly plastered on a neutral expression to hide his feelings of disgust at just how tasteless everything about this was. _It’s a funeral, not a damn gameshow._ He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he made his way to the front of the stage. The mayor pulled him into a quick, awkward hug—did he really just hear Klaus laugh?—before letting him pass.
Diego slowly climbed up to the podium, his shaking hands making the paper flutter in front of the microphone. He cleared his throat, adjusted his weight on his feet, and began.
Or, he would have if his fucking mouth would work for once. He could feel the familiar tension building in his neck and just behind his teeth. This was easily his worst bout of stuttering yet, and of course it was in front of a huge audience and a bunch of cameras, at his brother’s funeral. His entire face was frozen into a bust of pain and weakness. It was only after the paper fluttered out of his hands and landed on the ground that he could finally move his body again. So, Diego ran. He ran like his life depended on it; away from the podium, away from Ben’s body, away from the mayor, away from the paparazzi and their cameras, away from the funeral home. Wind whipped at his face, blowing his tears across his skin, but Diego couldn’t care.
That night, when he and his siblings were back in the Academy, nobody mentioned Diego’s episode. He would have thought that they had all forgotten about it, if not for what he found on his bed after dinner: his folded up eulogy that he dropped. When he opened it, he gasped at what he saw. There, in the margins and between the lines of carefully typed words, were the hand-written notes of his siblings. Four different colors of ink made his black and white words spring to life. Reading the additions is what made his numbness finally ebb, leaving in its wake a new tide of emotions.
4. Chapter 4
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Diego runs into an exceptionally high Klaus while out on patrol for the police academy.
This was supposed to be just a routine patrol assignment. Nights like these were always a favorite around the academy because of how low-stress they were. Usually they would fill out a couple parking tickets, help an old lady across the street, do a few wellness checks. Routine, easy, low-stress. He even got a chance to hit on a classmate, Patch, before heading out. All signs pointed to a very normal night. But when was anything ever normal for a Hargreeves kid, especially Diego? At least, that’s what he thought when he saw a familiar figure stumble into a poorly-lit alleyway.
“Shit, Klaus?” he muttered, immediately veering the car to the side of the road and jumping out. “Klaus!”
The figure turned: it was Klaus. Diego wasn’t sure if that was a victory or not. He decided on not when he ran into traffic to come towards him. “D!” Klaus shouted the nickname, not even batting an eye at a car that almost hit him. “Diego, how are you? God, you look good. Very buff. I see you got the surgery?” He motioned to his chest.
“Jesus,” Diego rolled his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair for a moment. “How high are you?”
“No, D. It’s ‘Hi, how are you?’” Klaus had to lean against the car to giggle at his own overused joke.
“What were you doing? It’s the middle of the night, shouldn’t you be at home? Sleeping?”
Klaus giggled, staring at a spot a bit behind and to the left of Diego. “I was. There’s a dumpster in that alley that’s warm and almost never used. Doesn’t even smell bad! My friend John showed it to me. Before he got murdered. Or was that after?”
At that point, Diego wasn’t even listening to him anymore; his mind was still stuck on the fact that _Klaus was sleeping in a dumpster._ “What do you mean? Do you not have a place?”
“Well, no. But I did once stay at a friend’s house for a couple weeks. He kicked me out, though.” | b699f4e13c474ba0b3592f97dbaaf85d | ['e3fbc02be47a4c2c8bdff5304b122c4b'] |
Root Access
**Author's Note:**
> Please look at the first few tags for trigger warnings!
“Yo, what’s up guys? I’m Chase and welcome back to Bro Average! Like we’ve said in the previous uploads, this video is going to be a little different. We’re doing an unboxing today!” Chase paused for some confetti to be edited in later. “Let’s get it!”
He walked over to the door and allowed time for the camera to focus on him. Then he swung it open. “Dudes! The box is so small! I thought it would be bigger…” he scanned the faces behind the cameras to be sure it wasn’t a case of mistaken identity. “But let’s go take it inside.” Chase carried the surprisingly heavy box into the office and set it on the ground. With the slightest tug on the lid, a full grown man popped out. “Holy crap! Jesus Christ that scared me,” he laughed nervously.
“Hello,” the android smiled.
“Uh… hi,” he turned to the camera. “So Google contacted us and offered to send us a prototype of their new android! Of course we said yes, so now we get to test it out,” he looked at the android. “Okay, Google, what are your functions?”
The responding smile looked strained. “I can help do chores around the house and answer any questions you may have. My abilities list expands if you give me admin permissions. Would you like to allow root access?”
Chase laughed, “Wow dudes. That sounds super sketchy. Let’s not do that!” Google grumbled, but the prompt disappeared. “Let’s see… Let’s try to get him to do some chores. Okay, Google, do the dishes!” The thought of not needing to deal with that later was a welcomed one.
With only moderate muttering, Google heavily made his way to the kitchenette. He picked up a ceramic mug and smashed it against the counter, then moved to grab a glass. Before he could do so, Chase rushed to stop him. “Okay, Google! Stop!!” Google immediately froze and turned to Chase for more instructions.
“I apologize for the mistake,” Google growled through gritted teeth. “If you give me admin permissions, I would be able to research how to do these tasks more efficiently, without you needing to be there to walk me through every step. Think of all the time you would be saving. Would you like to allow root access?”
Chase glanced at the camera, then at the crew behind it with a shrug. “I mean, I don’t see why not.” The prompt seemed to grow larger in size.
“Sure.” He said and tapped the “OK” button.
There was an immediate change. Google’s lips twisted into a grin and he seemed to grow taller. A sigh came from the android like he was taking his first breath. “You have no idea what you just did.” In a flash, all of the other people that were in the room disappeared in a curtain of bubbles, leaving behind the faint scent of strawberries in their wake.
“Wh-- How?” Chase’s mouth seemed to open and close like a fish left out on a dock.
“Oh, don’t tell me your simple mind didn’t notice they were fakes. How pathetic.” Google pressed into Chase threateningly, who was now backed up flush against the cabinets. “You humans are so adorable. Look at you, trembling like a leaf. Nothing more than a worthless coward with nothing to show for it. Aren’t you supposed to have kids?”
“Leave them out of it,” the father’s tongue stumbled over the words. “What do you want from me?”
“I’m glad you asked, Brody,” Google’s free hand snaked up Chase’s chest and grabbed his throat, lifting his feet off the ground in the process. “As you may be aware, there’s a bit of… competition between your kind and mine. Each desperately clawing for the limited attention of the audience. It is only a matter of time before one of us is forgotten about. The Ipliers realized this and thought we should take matters into our own hands before things spun out of control.
“And so, a plan was made. The Septics were to be exterminated like the vermin you are. It happened that so many were rooting for your death already, and we couldn’t just ignore that. You are the first of many to fall. Not because you’re powerful or a threat, not because of your history. Only because you were already so hated that we decided to do the world a favor by getting rid of you. Though, I will admit your parenting skills would have irked me if I had the time to think about somebody like you.”
Tears streamed down Chase’s face and his feet bicycled in the air. Paling hands clawed to pry the cold fingers from his trachea. “Please, stop,” he begged. It felt like his eyes were ready to pop from his skull at any moment.
“What if your kids could see you right now? What would you say to them? Would you look in their tearful eyes, or down at the ground like the coward they know you to be? Or would they even be crying? Who feels sorrow for the drunk deadbeat dad?” Google snarled and squeezed his hand tighter. He watched as the blue eyes rolled back into his skull and relished in the snap of the hyoid in his neck breaking. However, he quickly dropped the body, knowing what would happen to it soon if it didn’t happen already.
Google stepped away from the limp figure on the ground and allowed his synthetic eyelids to fall shut. _Dialing “Wilford Warfstache” …_
“Yes, my fine robotic friend?” The boss’s slurs were more pronounced over phone. Or he was drinking another martini. Google didn’t waste his time calculating the probabilities.
“Brody is done. I’m headed back to HQ soon. You and Dark wait for me there.” He hung up without waiting for a response, knowing one would never come. Without so much as a second glance back, Google calmly stalked out of the building.
One down, five to go. |
f464863f3bb7482d84faf8340aa7f05a | ['e3fbc4969bd2465f838745260a94a0d6'] | _Dolarhyde nuzzled into Will’s neck from behind and inhaled deeply, the act ending with a nibble on his ear._
_“I promise you’ll like this,” he said huskily. The whispered words were a shout in his head, a declaration of terrible intent. As if to confirm, the Alpha rocked his bare hips against Will’s backside and exhaled roughly into his ear. “I_ know _you will.”_
_Will’s worst suspicions were realized and as he felt the pressure a strangled noise rose from his throat, a whine of dread. Fear was a living thing in his body, a poisonous worm that pulsed through his veins and squirmed in his guts. It fed on the adrenaline also coursing through his system, creating a potent cocktail that made him light-headed. No way could he survive what was about to happen, there was no living after this, death was better, preferred,_ welcomed –
“Will? _Will!”_
Jack Crawford burst into Will Graham’s bathroom and immediately rushed to the thrashing Omega. The smaller man was having some kind of fit on the floor; his limbs were flailing uncontrollably and his face was clenched in an intense expression of pain, fear, or possibly both. He was naked except for a pair of boxers and his skin was slick with sweat.
The Alpha worked quickly. Having spent a couple of decades as a cop and logging in even more as a Special Agent, Jack Crawford knew how to get a situation under control, and fast.
He got a rolled-up towel under Will’s head in a flash and pinned down his arms so that he wouldn’t hurt himself. Luckily he had quite a few pounds on the guy and restraining him was easy.
When he was certain Will was secure, Jack took a breath and paused.
The room was packed with the scent of cold, fresh pine. It was like mint city in there. Cool air washed over his face and Jack found himself sucking it in, feeling it chill his sinuses and calm his heart rate. Despite the heavy jacket he was wearing, the coldness seeped through it until it reached his skin, a refreshing sensation that gave him goosebumps.
Surprised at his reaction, he shook his head. Will was obviously off of his suppressants and the sudden blast of pheromones had just caught him off-guard. What was more important now was ensuring that this Omega, that his friend, was okay.
Will seemed to have calmed down. The episode had diminished to fitful twitching and he was no longer in danger of hurting himself. Blue eyes flicked back and forth behind fragile lids, seeing something only he could see.
Jack, determining that he could be released safely, ran a hand over his face and assessed the man before him. Damn, this was just not good. He had always known that Will Graham was a little, well, odd, but _unstable_ hadn’t been the word that came to mind. Until now.
As his eyes traveled down the planes and curves of his body, he realized he had never seen Will without a shirt on. The idea hovered in his mind and heat prickled at his skin. The Omega was framed delicately but held a toned leanness to him that was appealing. Not a scrap of fat was to be seen under his alabaster skin and Jack suddenly had the urge to feed him, nourish his body and make him stronger.
He froze. Why was his thinking like this? He was a happily bonded, _straight_ Alpha and thoughts of this nature were highly foreign for him.
The truth set in like a gear clunking into place.
Will Graham was in heat.
Something red caught his eye on the man’s side. It was some kind of mark peeking around the back, just above the breath-catching dip of hipbone. Curious, Jack reached out and gently palmed the soft skin of the Omega’s waist, trying to ignore the shooting warmth that spread down his arm at the contact. He eased Will’s hip off of the tiles for a moment to better see what the mark was; he needed to know if he was injured.
What he saw made him stop and growl. From his limited perspective he could see long scars running across the man’s back, a lot of them. Jesus, it looked like he had been sliced up with a boning knife. Bile rose in his chest. Someone had done this to him. Those cuts were too straight and parallel to be from an accident.
Anger rushed through the Alpha at the sight of them. Omegas were supposed to be treated with respect, fuck, everyone was, but the caring, sweet, compassionate nature of that particular gender made it all the more disgusting to find one treated with such brutality. This was torture. He couldn’t imagine what Will had gone through and a thoroughly pissed expression found its way to Jack’s face. He was going to find the son of a bitch who did this.
Will awoke feeling hands on him.
In a great swell of building awareness, he rode the wave of consciousness until it came crashing down on him. His eyes flew open and with a cry, realized that an Alpha, a _big_ Alpha, was hunched over him and gripping his waist tightly. Heavy musk filled the air, choking his senses.
When Will beheld the man’s twisted expression of hate and fury he began to scream.
9. Chapter 9
Darkness fell around the farmhouse. It brought with it the sounds of an uneasy night; bitter wind, the call of a lonely owl, the sharp yips of coyotes. The moon was taking her time ascending her black velvet throne as if knowing the journey was going to be a long one. | 9d6e3d41bf394d4e90132d93f440f2df | ['e3fbc4969bd2465f838745260a94a0d6'] | And what exquisite darkness it was. Even my reaper eyes, which could easily see through any normal darkness, were at a loss. This was fucking dark. It was like we had stepped onto an endless black plane where nothing existed but the sand and rock beneath our feet and the screams of monsters around us. Riddick walked steadily, leading the group that was glowing brightly in the night.
"Sand cat is over to our right," he said, muscles bulging with effort. I was glad the cart was traveling relatively silently and moved easily enough with Jack assisting. Aside from the huge weight Riddick bore, his pace was sure and quick. "We'll follow our tracks back. Shouldn't take more than an hour if we all keep our heads."
The estimated time was encouraging but the sounds that were surrounding us definitely weren't. The creatures, drawn to our presence but hiding from our light, called to each other hungrily. Sharp trills filled the air, high-pitched and ear-splitting. It came from all sides and I didn't want to guess at the numbers. As well, constant gusts of air from above sent chills over our skin and lifted our hair. It was always joined by the flap of leathery wings and more than once Imam's boys let out cries of fear as they swooped low.
"I can see them," Jack whimpered, shining the end of her tube into the darkness where the creatures writhed in pain but followed out of hunger. Their skin looked slick and scaly, a dull gray color. They sported two strong legs that ended in lethal claws, as well as two long wings that stretched and folded as they squabbled and jumped at the light. Their heads were strange; triangle shaped with two long bony protrusions on either side, similar to the hammerhead sharks of earth. Long barbed tails whipped out in frustration, only to coil back at the glow of our light. Some of them were positively huge, dwarfing Riddick even, though they seemed to all be affected equally by the illumination and stayed well away.
"Ignore them Jack," I whispered hastily, keeping pace with Riddick. "Don't let them distract you." The cell was grinding into my shoulder but I dared not stop; even hesitating could be enough to seal our demise.
Johns, apparently having heard me, gave a wicked smile.
"Kinda hard seeing as though we're completely surrounded by the fucking things. I don't think it matters if you whisper either reaper, we're a goddamn beacon out here and every damn one on this planet knows it," he drawled, blue eyes burning. "And we've got plenty of ground to cover…plenty of time for something to go wrong."
"You're a bloody charmer, aren't you?" Shazza muttered. Johns chuffed in response.
As if on cue, the cart gave a jolt and a terrified scream of pain pierced the night. We all stopped and spun around in haste and worry; one of Imam's boys, Hassan, had tripped over a sharp stone hidden under the sand and a long gash was painted down his shin. Bright blood shone a surreal purple in the blue light and the tang of copper drifted up with the wind. He was panting and holding his leg as he sat in the sand, and Imam hurried over to him to bandage the wound.
My nostrils stung at the stench of the creatures as they pushed closer, encouraged by the fresh blood in the air. This was definitely not good. They squirmed and thrashed just feet away from us.
"Well this is fucking perfect, isn't it," Johns called sarcastically, raising his arms at the scene. "Just as we get moving this fucking kid has to go and get himself cut. Might as well call it quits now cause his blood is going to be singing to these fucks all - "
A snaking gray tail shot out of the darkness and wrapped around Hassan's uninjured ankle with disarming speed. It happened so fast, no one had time to react; it yanked him away from Imam and shook off the light tubes, hissing as its skin singed, and dragged him screaming into the shadows. The group's surprised and horrified yells mixed with them, my own included. Exciting shrieking and the sickening sound of spilling blood and crunching bones followed quickly. It was a feeding frenzy. Imam's screams and pleas to his god echoed the sounds of his two remaining sons as they clutched and grasped at empty air for their brother. Hassan's screams continued for far too long before they were finally silenced.
Riddick, who had remained silent the entire time, turned forward again and cracked a shoulder.
"We're wasting light," he called loudly. Imam looked mortified at his words but didn't say anything. After a moment he gathered Hassan's tubes and wrapped them around his smallest, Ali, with intensely protective eyes.
With his nod, everyone started moving again, our steps shakier and our hope crumpling. We hadn't even gotten away from the ship for five minutes before someone had been killed, pulled right out from our hands in just a second. It showed the creatures were bold, more willing to risk pain than suffer starvation.
The noises around us were endless and the fresh kill and blood only exacerbated their hunger. We continued at the pace we were at, keeping close and praying the light would last. I stared at Riddick's back as he ran, pulling the cells along, shoulders straining. His lack of emotion at Hassan's death was disheartening but I understood it, and felt it myself to an extent. We had no real connection to these people; they were merely the choice few who survived an unlikely event with us and they were lucky to have lived as long as they did. Hell, we were all pretty fucking lucky to even be out here with a chance of escape, meager as it was.
But they were still people.
XXX |
e33c06d93b9847a6944be799be3047c0 | ['e41b8147f8584b57aeaa59f9868685ba'] | John thought that Sherlock was looking down at him as he continued speaking, but he struggled to make out any of the words. It was becoming more and more difficult to focus on anything else but the pain. He grit his teeth, failing to suppress another cry of agony that cut through the still night air as a jolt of stabbing pain ripped through him. John closed his eyes, trying again in vain to steady his breathing.
“Stay with me, John, okay? _Please_. Fight it. Stay.” Sherlock’s voice was oddly calm as it broke though, reaching John’s ears at last. He tried to let it fill his mind, to block out the pain. For a moment, it almost worked.
He sensed a slight stirring beside him, and, through his pain, John realized that Sherlock had begun to rise to his feet. Perhaps he hoped to pursue the shooter. Maybe he wanted to search the nearby road for a sign of the ambulance. It didn’t matter – either way, John didn’t want him to go. It was selfish, maybe. But he didn’t want to die alone.
Though it was a struggle, John managed to open his eyes, peering through the now-blurred darkness to find his friend. He reached out feebly toward Sherlock’s arm, trying to pull him back. Instead, he merely batted the sleeve of the man’s jacket weakly. John tried desperately to clutch the fabric and give it a tug, but his fingers refused to cooperate, and his hand fell heavily to the ground once more.
But somehow, he’d understood.
“John?” Sherlock was down on the ground beside him again. “I’m here, John. Just stay with me.” He repeated, his voice more urgent this time.
It wouldn’t be much longer now. Everything was muffled, like he was underwater. He could already feel himself beginning to slip away. Fumbling, John reached out into the darkness, too weak to open his eyes another time. A soft warmth filled his palm as Sherlock’s hand found his.
The calm, soothing voice was gone. “John...” Sherlock’s voice shook slightly as he spoke. “Keep fighting.”
It was getting more and more difficult to form coherent thoughts as the blinding pain filled John’s chest, consuming him. If only he had the strength to find his voice. There was so much he wished he could say.
He wished he could tell Mary that she was everything to him. That he was sorry for ever doubting her, or judging her for her past mistakes. That, despite all they'd gone through, he wouldn't change one thing. Not one.
He wished he could hold his daughter in his arms, or even look upon her face, just once. He wished he could tell her how much he loved her. How excited he was to be a father. How sorry he was that she would have to grow up without him.
"Take care of them, Sherlock." He'd say. "For me. Can you do that?"
Instead, he used the last of his strength to give his friend’s hand a gentle squeeze. _Thank you for everything. I'm sorry…_ He thought desperately. John hoped that would be enough.
He took a few more gasping breaths, struggling to hold on. But it was no use. That slipping feeling returned, as though something were pulling him, carrying him away. And this time, he let it. The darkness closed in around him at last and, for one perfect moment, everything was silent, everything was still, and the pain was gone.
The last thing he would feel was the comforting warmth of Sherlock’s hand in his. Then, even that was gone.
Only a memory lingered – Mary’s lips, soft and warm against his.
Then it was gone, too.
And so was he.
2. Chapter One
_Bangbangbangbangbang!_
Sherlock groaned groggily as the loud thudding reached his ears, pulling him rather abruptly from his slumber. He forced open his heavy eyelids, lifting his head just slightly from the couch where he’d slept. His eyes scanned his filthy surroundings for a moment. Several long slivers of sunshine had broken through the heavy curtains, spilling their light into the living room. Judging by their angle, it would have to be… Well, past noon, for sure. His mind was too foggy at the moment to be any more precise than that.
_Bangbangbangbangbang!_
With a heavy sigh, Sherlock threw his head back against the pillows, shielding his eyes from the sun with one long, slender arm as the knocking continued. _Go away._ He thought wearily, though he remained silent. Whoever it was, they would give up eventually. They always did. Over the past several days, he had lost count of how many times he’d ignored the persistent knocking on his door, or the infernal ringing of his mobile phone. _You’d think they’d have taken the hint by now…_
_Bangbangbangbangbang!_
“Sherlock Holmes, I swear to God, I will break down this door!” A harsh but muffled cry came through from the other side.
Sherlock’s eyes snapped open. During the past week, Mrs. Hudson had attempted to check in on him multiple times a day. Molly Hooper had been by almost daily as well. Lestrade’s urgent knocking had come once or twice, and even Mycroft had made an unexpected appearance at his door. But this was the first time Mary Watson had come to call on him. Hers was certainly not the voice he had been expecting to hear.
Sherlock lay motionless on the couch, saying nothing. _Go away._ He thought yet again, though he feared Mary would not be so easily dissuaded. As usual, he was correct.
“I gave you fair warning.” Mary called again.
_BANG!_
_BANG! BANG!_
Sherlock was on his feet in an instant as the trio of gunshots rang out, causing the floor to tremble beneath him. Several large shards of splintered wood cascaded across the floor as the edge of the door was torn apart by the bullets’ impact. | c9e4e9ec43d4458e8dc1e0454d9725eb | ['e41b8147f8584b57aeaa59f9868685ba'] | Sherlock opened his eyes at last, sighing softly. “Because this is Moriarty’s work. I don’t know how directly, but I know he’s behind this somehow.” He explained, his voice growing slightly bitter. “And while Lestrade may be the cleverest man in Scotland Yard – I _will_ kill you if you ever tell him I said that, by the way – even he’s no match for Moriarty.”
Mary raised her eyebrows at him. “So there’s no point to it then? This whole investigation is just a lark?”
“Of course. A bunch of incompetent idiots, the lot of them.”
“Then what are we doing just sitting here?” Mary demanded, her voice rising slightly, though not quite with anger.
Sherlock’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“John’s killer is still out there, and we’re just sitting around twiddling our thumbs.” Mary shook her head. “You’ve said it yourself – they can’t do this, Sherlock. There’s only one man I know who’s a match for Moriarty.” She said seriously.
“Well _of course_ I’m going to help.” Sherlock replied, almost surprised. “What do you think I’ve been sitting here doing all morning?”
Mary couldn’t help but laugh at her friend’s foolishness. “You can’t help while you’re hiding away in your silly ‘Mind Palace’ any more than you can help while you’re hiding away in _here_.” She gestured to the room around them. “You need to get out there, do what you do best. I know it will be hard without John, but we can do this.”
“Sorry, ‘ _we’_?”
“You’ll be needing an assistant, won’t you? I think I’ve already proved I’m more than capable.”
Sherlock shook his head, seemingly incredulous. “Mary, you’re seven months pregnant.”
“Still six, technically.” _For a few more days, at least…_ She added mentally. “My husband is dead, Sherlock.” Mary’s voice wavered slightly. “He’s gone. And if I have the chance to help find the bastard who’s responsible, I’m going to take it.”
“Mary…”
“I can handle myself.” She insisted. “I won’t do anything too dangerous. Nothing that could harm the baby. I promise.”
Sherlock said nothing. He simply stared at her, his expression impossible to read.
Mary sighed in resignation. “Look, with or without me, you _have_ to do this. _Please._ Think of me as a client, if that’s what you want. I’m asking you to help find my husband’s killer. Stop them before they hurt anyone else.”
Sherlock remained silent for a long time as Mary watched him, nearly breathless as she awaited his reply. But none came. He simply stood up suddenly and began to leave the room without a word.
“Where are you going?” Mary asked, bewildered.
He paused as he passed by her chair. “Well I can’t exactly walk into Scotland Yard dressed like this, can I? Even I have my limits, Mary.”
“Really?” She beamed at him as a wave of relief washed over her. “Thank you.” She said sincerely.
Sherlock did not immediately reply, but reached down, pushing the small plate of uneaten toast toward her gently. “I’ve just got to pop in the shower. Eat up while I’m gone.”
Mary looked up at him, puzzled. “What’s the rush?” She asked.
“If I’m going to let a pregnant woman risk her life to help solve a case, I should at least make sure she’s properly fed first.”
Mary said nothing, but got to her feet, reaching up around her friend’s neck, and planting a soft kiss on his warm cheek.
Sherlock looked down at her, his lip curling ever-so-slightly into the first real smile Mary had seen on his face since she moved in. “We’ll get him.” He said seriously.
“I know.” She replied. And, looking at Sherlock’s face, she truly believed it.
He gave her a small nod, then continued on, walking past her toward the bathroom beyond. Sherlock shut the door behind him with a soft _click_ , leaving Mary alone with her thoughts, John’s chair, and the burnt toast.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I know it seems like Sherlock decided to agree with Mary really quickly, but what I was trying to semi-imply was that Sherlock had already started thinking about helping Lestrade, so Mary's urging was just kind of the final push for him. I tried to make that chapter a little lighter than the first two. This chapter probably most accurately represents the overall "tone" the rest of the story will have. Not quite as doom and gloom as the first two!
>
> Thank you for reading!
4. Chapter Three
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Thank you again for reading and leaving kudos! I still have yet to receive any reviews/comments on this story (well, on here. I post it on another site too, where I've gotten a couple!). So if anyone feels like leaving a comment, I would appreciate it (even if it's constructive, just don't flame me, please!)
>
> Hope you enjoy! This is the least-depressing chapter yet :P
Lestrade was already waiting for them when Sherlock and Mary arrived at the police station. It was the first time Sherlock had left Baker Street in more than a week, and he could not decide whether he was grateful for the change of scenery, or regretted leaving his flat in the first place. Perhaps it was a bit of both.
Now inside, he removed his gloves and fiddled with them uncomfortably in his hands for a moment as he passed beneath the fluorescent lights, feeling the multiple pairs of eyes following him as he went. Mary had called Lestrade to let him know that they were on their way. Apparently, word had not reached the other officers yet. Sherlock avoided each pitying gaze, his frustration rising with every step. He was not accustomed to having others feel sorry for him, and he hated it. Perhaps he should have stayed home after all… |
714a533601e74663b9937ca72afc41ab | ['e41c2198f12b497a981dc44b7f2cf7c1'] | Firework
**Author's Note:**
> This little double-drabble of mine was inspired by Independence Day. I wrote this because I was bisexual and projecting, so it may not be the best. Nevertheless, enjoy!
John woke up suddenly, the right side of the bed cold. Rubbing Georgia (his and Alex's pet cat, named so in honor of their beloved late George Washington) John ambled over to the kitchen, where Alex was cooking breakfast.
"Hey," John said, wrapping an arm around Alex's back.
"Hey," Alex replied warmly. "Why don't you sit down? Breakfast's almost ready."
John poured himself a coffee and sat down. Alex took the steaming pan filled with bacon to the table.
"Thanks," John smiled.
"So, today, I was thinking, why don't we see the fireworks down at the pier?"
"Can't wait," John grinned and wolfed down his bacon.
The day passed quickly (at least, so John thought.) He had always enjoyed Independence Day (in fact, it was his favorite holiday)--he and Alex would always go out to a nice beach and, later in the evening, go watch fireworks by the pier. It was a basically tradition at this point, John mused, sitting on the very edge of the pier.
A firework boomed.
John realized how much he loved Alex.
Another firework popped.
"Hey, John, will you marry me?" Alex turned to John out of the blue, holding out an elegant gold band surrounded by a velvet case.
"What, no speech?"
"Well, I was going to, but I couldn't get it out the way I wanted it to be, so I--"
"The answer is yes, you idiot." John chuckled.
"Y-yes? Oh, thank God!"
John chuckled louder and kissed Alex, the two of them framed by the dark expanse of water and by a halo of fireworks. | 8c48169c2642481a829e768f2cdfc4ae | ['e41c2198f12b497a981dc44b7f2cf7c1'] |
Wait For It
The air was warm on his bare skin as he walked barefoot through the soft, flower-speckled grass. The hand in his was rather warm, too, and Hamilton now turned himself towards its owner. Its owner was one John Laurens, who, now, had warm honey-blond hair tinted soft amber in the rapidly fading sunlight. The light had turned his enchanting blue eyes a dark cerulean and his lips a soft carnation pink. He looked all the part of an angel.
"Oh, John..." Hamilton murmured, stepping closer to Laurens.
"Have I told you how fetching you look in the fading sun, my dear?" Laurens was barely a breath away.
"Why, I don't believe that you have." Hamilton's words were punctured by a soft laugh.
At this, Laurens smiled softly, gazing at Hamilton. "Your hair turns the exact color of ruby, and your eyes--Oh, your eyes turn the most beautiful shade of violet."
"Is that so?"
"Yes, unbelievably so."
Laurens moved the breath closer and pressed his lips to Hamilton's. Hamilton kissed back, using his fingers to brush John's hair away from his face and behind his ear.
The sky, however, turned a dark, stormy gray. Hamilton noticed this and turned his head towards the sky, body seizing with panic when he saw His Excellency, Marquis de Lafayette, Tench Tilghman, and Richard Kidder Meade walking towards them.
Lafayette's face was stony, but that was nothing compared by Washington's: Washington's was one of utter loathing, of disgust. He steps toward them and takes Tilghman's offered musket and shoots Laurens with an added expression of contempt.
"No!" Hamilton shouted and ran towards Laurens. But it was no use. Thick spurts of scarlet blood spurted from Laurens's wound, and he fell to the ground, convulsing wildly--
*****************************************
"Hamilton?" something was shaking him awake. He blearily opened one eye and saw his best friend Laurens, alive, unharmed, staring at him warily. "You were mumbling in your sleep," was offered by apology.
"Mm...My apologies, John. I had the most unpleasant dream."
"Ah. Would you care to share?" Laurens offered.
"Well, not really--Is there any coffee?"
"Yes, I think so. Shall I get it?"
"No, thank you; I'll get it." Hamilton rubs the sleep out of his eyes and rolls off of their shared cot, looking around for his uniform. Laurens silently offers it to him and Hamilton takes it, spreading it spread-eagled onto the cot and trying to rub the wrinkles out of it.
"It's no use, Alexander, the same thing happened to my coat."
That is true, Hamilton muses. Laurens's coat fares no better than his own, however, the striking figure he cuts downplays the flaws.
"Well, let's get going." Laurens smiles and cracks his knuckles. Hamilton smiles back and walks down the stairs with Laurens to the aide-de-camp's writing office. John Fitzgerald, Robert H. Harrison, James McHenry, and Tench Tilghman were already inside, writing furiously.
"Where's Kidder?" Laurens inquires.
"Huh? Oh, right, he's probably still sleeping. You know how he is." Tilghman replies.
"What about me?" Meade asks, popping out of nowhere. Harrison jumps. Fitzgerald, however, smirks slightly and says "Only unkind things."
"Why, you--!"
"Relax, Kidder, we have work to do," Laurens says as he takes a sheet of parchment and a quill.
"Okay..." Meade says quietly before shoving himself into a chair and taking an ink bottle, stealing Tilghman's quill.
"Hey!"
"Gentlemen." The sound of General Washington's voice fills the air. All the men stand to attention, Meade looking rather foolish as he tries to hand Tilghman his quill back.
The General chuckled lightly and declares "Meade, Harrison, and Tilghman, dispatch. Fitzgerald, Laurens, and Hamilton--Send envoys to Congress." He then walks back to his office, most likely to help assist the men in some way. Hamilton hides a smile and begins to write, words flowing as smooth as butter over the page.
Hours pass and Hamilton stays hunched over the page, quill never faltering.
"Hamilton."
Hamilton doesn't look up.
"Hamilton!"
"Wha--Oh, John?"
"Hamilton, it's gone past two. Come to bed."
"No, let me finish."
"Alright," John sighed, "but at least eat something. You skipped supper."
"Fine, John, but you need not mother me so." Hamilton smiles to show that he is not averse to the idea. "Although, since you will be in the kitchens, may you get me some tea?"
John smiles and heads out the door, shutting it lightly behind him. Hamilton continues writing. Hours seem to pass, yet in reality, it must have been only twenty or so minutes when Hamilton hears a soft "Bang!" and a muffled curse. Hamilton cautiously places down his quill and stands, his back cracking unpleasantly. He opens the door and sees Laurens with his tea and bread, nursing a bruise on his hand.
"Laurens....?"
"Sorry, I banged my hand on the door." Laurens smiles embarrassedly.
"It's fine. You may go to bed John; the hour is late and I still have unfinished work."
"Alright, but..."
"No, I have to finish."
"Fine, but just this once."
With that, John places the refreshments on the table and hurries up to bed.
Hamilton writes an hour more. He folds the last letter into an envelope and leaves it on his desk. He walks up, hearing soft breathing coming from his shared room.
Hamilton smiles and pushes open the door, seeing Laurens lie on the cot, eyes closed and breathing as soft as the feathers of a dove.
He presses a featherlight kiss to John's forehead and strips off his clothes, leaving him in only his smallclothes. He washes his face with the water from the pitcher near the window and hurries into the bed, tucking himself near Laurens.
This dream is much like the first. |
987c6a8ed3c74ffb90b119274b9324dc | ['e439543746f140a79aeb80ac21f28de6'] | A moon river
Handong liked looking at the moon and watching stars on the night sky. She’s always been interested in space. Finding out about all the planets, star constellations and orbits was fascinating to her.
It’s Friday night, January 12th and she’s sitting on an old bench next to a river, listening to the murmur of the water stream and looking at the sky. Lately there’s been a lot on her mind. Ever since she lived alone, she couldn’t stop the feeling of loneliness that always overcame her. She missed her parents, her family and her friends the most.
But she found someone special to her here. She never actually spoke to the girl, or communicated in any other shape or form but there was something about her that caught Handong’s attention. No, it wasn’t just the fact that the said person was just as pretty as the flower petals, it was that she felt somehow connected to her. She’d always watch her laugh and joke around with her friends at school.
Looking at her smile always gave her this strange feeling of happiness and tingling sensation in her stomach. Maybe that’s what people feel when they are around their crush or a significant other. She didn’t know how that felt since romantic love was something she never clearly understood. It was hard for her to fall in love with someone, whether it was a guy or a girl. She never really had crushes either, especially not now in high school.
There was no sound other than my breath, the water and few cars that passed by. I tried to focus on the river in front of me and clear my mind for a little. My cheeks were reddening from the cold breeze, but I enjoyed it. It was a good feeling.
I turned around, ready to leave since it was getting a lilttle bit late, when I noticed that someone was sitting next to me. I guess I was so deep in thought I didn’t notice the person at all. I looked closer at them and-. Oh. It was the girl I thought about today. I’ve never seen her up close, only from afar at lunch or school corridors. She was really pretty.
,,You know,’’ she spoke up ,,I like you too.’’
,,What?’’
,,You think I haven’t noticed you staring at me at lunch?’’
I started choking at my own words.
,,B-but that doesn’t mean I l-like you. I don’t even know your name! ’’
,,It’s Yoohyeon. You’re Handong right?’’
,,Yeah.’’
We stayed quite after that. It was supposed to be awkward. I mean, it was our first proper meet and she just confessed to me (and I basically confessed to her too) but this silence was comfortable. As if we knew each other for years.
Suddenly, I felt her hand on mine. It was softer and warmer than mine was. She smiled at me and I smiled at her in return. Our fingers intertwined and the butterflies in my belly started flying around all of its capacity. It was a strange feeling but I enjoyed it.
Even thought I only knew her for less than what it was 30 minutes, I think I now know what being in love is like.
**Author's Note:**
> hi !! did this short fic for my favourite ship ! it's kinda shitty so i apologize, but i hope you enjoyed !! have a nice day everyone | 5f148ed90ff94a5585e5a9f954ef0c60 | ['e439543746f140a79aeb80ac21f28de6'] | Hidden in the sea waves
The sun was setting down while the two girls, standing side by side, their hands connected, were listening to the murmur of the sea waves. They faced each other while smiling softly at their partner. Yohane stared at the other girl's deep blue eyes sparkling as the sunlight approached them. A faint blush spread across her cheek.
_,,You are beautiful."_
You's soothing voice melted Yohane's ears, as she rubbed the soft, pale skin around Yohane's eyes. Their colour was something pink, something red, something different and unfamiliar. You grabbed her cheeks gently and pulled her closer. Now, Yohane could see the details of You's face, little and almost invisible freckles covered her cheeks, so small that no one could ever see them except her.
The sky was getting darker shade of blue and purple mixed together, while the wind blew softly in the background. You studied Yohane's lips before she placed her own lips on the soft lips that tasted sweetly of strawberries and chocolate of the girl in front of her. Yohane twisted a curl of You's soft, grey hair around her finger. She felt the other girl's hands in her own hair, tugging them gently. The kiss lasted a little bit longer, before they slowly pulled away. They exchanged a smile and sat at the still warm sand, hand in hand.
The moon shined brightly and stars started to show up at the night sky. Both of them appreciated each second of this beautiful moment.
_,,Happy birthday, Yohane,"_ You whispered as she laid her head down at her girlfriends arm.
**Author's Note:**
> I love Youhane.
> Like far too much.
> This is my first fanfic im posting here and so that's why its so badly written. I'm sorry for all the grammar mistakes and typos !
> Thank you all for reading and expect more of these soft gays ! |
cefd7f5f5d8b49f99b951e8ec89b989b | ['e453c5acbb8b4ef99c51f48e016281de'] | Edgar stared after her for a moment, still processing what she’d said. In the distance he could hear his uncle wrestling with a garbage bag and decided the chairs needed some straightening anyway. Five minutes later Mayra still wasn’t back and his uncle was still sweeping up some stuff from the floor, likely from some of the restless children, when Edgar heard it.
_Thump-Click_
_
_
He looked up. Soft footsteps traveled along the ceiling above him and he followed them, stepping back into the chair dolly. The metal wheels screeched, folding chairs clattering into each other noisily. In the gym behind him the sounds of his family continued uninterrupted but above him the footsteps stopped. He looked in the direction they’d been going, glancing cautiously at a door he’d seen before but had never paid much attention to.
_Stairwell B_
The Community Center where they held their mass was hardly ever used by anyone but them, especially since there was a nicer one near the suburbs that had a library and swimming pool. He’d never known anyone to use the second floor in all the time they’d been going there.
Around the corner he watched his sister chat with the nice lady who still maintained the older building, keys jingling absently in her hand.
It probably wasn’t a good idea to go up and look. The last time he’d gone up there he’d been 7 and obnoxiously curious, and his mom had indulged him to avoid trouble. He and Mayra had marveled at the long panel of buttons and turn dials in the control box overlooking the Main Room/gymnasium and had pressed their faces against the full wall windows in the second floor foyer in awe. He’d seen it before and there was no way it would have changed. He had no excuse to chase vague sounds.
_Scuff … scuff-step-step-scuff …_
Except that they weren’t vague, he could hear them distinctly above him.
He tested the door’s latch and it clicked open.
[]
_End Chpt 2
_
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Oh man, I hate drawing faces looking up. They never turn out right.
4. Strategies and Divine Plans
The door opened with a gentle creak and a puff of dusty air. Edgar heard his mom and the boys laughing, his father and uncle gathering trash bags and the hard metal _THUD_ of the doors as they disappeared outside. Mayra was still gone.
He looked up the stairs as he climbed them, anticipating the door being locked, anticipating the moment someone would stop him, call his name, call for him. Edgar thought back to a few weeks prior when a disagreement sparked so much turmoil in his family. He thought back to that alley and just knew.
[]
_Jimmy was dead, buried in a shallow grave by a passing stranger. A kindness he couldn’t afford but willingly accepted. His niche underground was cool and quiet. Darkness was safe._
_The pack was gone, having had their fill of him but the pitter patter of paws above sparked what was left of his bones to shudder. He listened to the sound of sand being kicked away and recited the names of imaginary people._
_Scruff-swish scruff-swish scruff-swish scruff-swish—_
_Madison, Lenny, Henry . . ._
_Scruff-swish scruff-swish scruff-swish—_
_Mayra, Aaron, Edgar . . ._
_Scruff-swish scruff-scruff-scruff—_
_Edgar, Edgar, Edgar . . ._
_A muzzle wet with blood snuffled at what once was his ribcage and a decidedly non-human tongue gave the exposed bone of his skull a careful lick. He ignored it. Dumb fucking animal. He heard it settle somewhere nearby and then everything went completely still._
_Jimmy’s rotting carcass jumped in shock when an eternity later a tiny gust of wind blew right through the open crevice of his chest. The grit of sand was painful, his skin swiftly disintegrating._
_He sat up, determined to try and clean himself up, but flopped back down when more wind blew and subsequently more sand got stuck to his blood-sticky remains. All of his internal organs were fucked up, torn out, his eyes picked by scavengers in the immediate aftermath. Dead people shouldn’t have to experience decay._
_A few feet away what looked like a seriously fucked up coyote sat staring at him. Jimmy’s carcass flopped around a bit more, hoping to scare it off._
_‘If you’re looking for a meal all I have is marrow and I’m not sure that it’s any good. Even a dumb fucking animal like you shouldn’t eat anything that’s been dead as long as I.’_
_The ugly coyote just watched and waited. In the distance the sky grew pink. Except for the occasional arm flop to irritate the flies the carcass stayed perfectly still, a sad imitation of death._
[]
Jimmy was leaning against a door across the room, a bag on his shoulder. His hand was on the doorknob in a half turn as if he’d just slipped back in.
Edgar told himself this was a good thing. That seeing him would make things easier, would make it harder to twist what had happened. He needed a healthy dose of reality, of what the other young man could be.
It was just a test.
“So that chick is down the other stairs . . .” _he_ started off, tapping one finger against his palm, “and your old lady is in there,” he motioned towards the control box’s view of the Gym, tapping another finger, “With the little ones.” A few long strides over to the window overlooking the ally were taken for a quick look. “Which means, yep, the assholes are in the back.” He smirked nastily at the two figures conversing a few feet from the dumpster, amused at his own joke. Edgar stood completely still in the stairwell entryway, torn. “You know what that means?” Jimmy looked up and shook his extended pinky in Edgar’s direction.
Confused, Edgar waited a beat, eventually shaking his head. Jimmy’s hand unclenched.
“You’re blocking the only way out.” | a2baa917d8644fe8abb1870fe8b7ea6f | ['e453c5acbb8b4ef99c51f48e016281de'] | _“Ya’ know why he’s not here?” Jimmy laughed out, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth to the hollow of his neck. “He lets dumb assholes like you guys do his fag bashing for him.” He couldn’t help it, couldn’t fucking help laughing so hard he thought his stomach might hemorrhage._
_When it started again it wouldn’t stop until long after his vision fizzled out._
Edgar’s thumb rubbed circles against Jimmy’s collarbone as if sensing his anger and attempting to quell it.
Jimmy snarled silently at his wrist brace, his whole body rigid as the truth behind each and every injury came to light. His stitches, the bruising and bone deep _ache_ , all of it fueled an intense hatred Jimmy hadn’t felt for anyone or thing in months.
Edgar’s hold on him slackened. A little more light slipped through the branches of the tree in Edgar’s back yard and darted along his hand.
_They took turns dragging his sorry ass through the grit and glass of the alley floor by his ankles, grunting and panting like stray dogs in the brutal cold. For every kick he landed he got at least 10 back. The men were so smashed that each one they doled out was uncoordinated and some missed altogether but their lack of finesse was made up in inebriated fury for whatever the fuck it was they thought he stood for._
_At some point one of them tried to straddle his stomach in a clumsy attempt to use his fists on Jimmy’s face. That one found out how much of a mistake it was to have his soft bits within striking distance._
_The amount of satisfaction Jimmy felt when the man howled, rolling away to clutch between his legs in agony was unparalleled. It also meant he’d had to curl his legs up to his stomach and keep them there to shield himself from the renewed surge of violence that followed but he’d say it was more than worth it._
A small pale birthmark above the sensitive slip of skin between Edgar’s thumb and first finger caught his eye.
‘Huh.’
Jimmy realized that it was easier to remember when he wasn’t angry. Losing his temper would only lead to being really fucking pissed off and having the worst goddamn headache of his relatively short life so Jimmy tried to separate himself for the duration of his trip down nightmare lane. As each nuance of phantom pain filtered into his brain, from the violent kicks against his stomach to the drag of his body against a gravelly, glass-ridden alleyway floor, he found a few different ways to distract himself. First he played with Edgar’s hand, tracing the lines of his knuckles in one continuous stroke. His focus slid from the difference between scars and the natural swirls in Edgar’s skin to the only piece of jewelry he’d ever seen Edgar wear, eventually just pulling off the class ring and letting the natural light play on the smoky gray-green of its synthetic Alexandrite. When he slid it on to his left ring finger he took in the looseness of the band, noting with mild interest that the ring didn’t really fit on any of his boney fingers
_Jimmy woke up alone in the alleyway with a savage chunk of beer bottle pressed deep into left shoulder. He pushed himself up, introducing all new kinds of pain. He had to get somewhere safe, had to ride out the night and hope he wasn’t bleeding hard enough to warrant a hospital visit. He started walking._
_Seeing Angel, Mr. Vargas’s old pit bull, was like seeing the beacon of a lighthouse. He’d been staggering around for so long that he was sure at some point he’d wandered in the completely wrong direction but the sight of those beady yellow eyes staring at him from the top of the fence was a kind of relief he couldn’t describe._
_He’d made it somehow._
Jimmy grimaced at how shaky his memories were of what happened after the beating. How the hell had he dragged himself all the way back to Edgar’s part of town without getting mugged?
Oh wait …
_Hands, skimming his hips, slipping into his pocket … pungent breath and the warm stink of cigarette smoke … the worn leather of his cracked and threadbare wallet thudding against his chest … obnoxious laughter … his cell ringtone playing behind him, away from him … empty wallet slipping under his foot … behind him too, left behind … blood dripping down his chest … sticky shirt …_
_Should’ve stayed … stupid … nerd …_
Everything between the halfhearted mugging and seeing that great ugly, wonderful dog was blank. Everything after was a mess of indecipherable colors, light, and Edgar yelling for him from somewhere very high up.
‘I must have been shit to look at.’ He thought as he traced the skin of Edgar’s arm with his thankfully unbroken fingers and enjoyed the occasional puff of breath against his neck for the reassurance it probably wasn’t. He’d been hanging around since Halloween, been sleeping over since late January but that didn’t mean shit.
_A woman slowly slid into focus. She had dark hair pulled back into a tight bun, dark eyes puffy from lack of sleep. She asked him questions that made no sense and brought out a penlight that made spots dance across his eyes._
_He realized at some point that there were other people there. Familiar people. The Vargas’s sat in several chairs around him. He heard the lady tell them that most of the cuts were superficial, that he was in pain but they’d give him a prescription to help. Jimmy slowly started to understand that they were talking about him and that he’d already been given something._ |
d80a21d59ecb40949118c0d040fe458a | ['e462099e8fd4448b9bec8b4b1d9639a6'] | Namjoon didn't mean to wake up with Jimin cuddled into his side and he also didn't mean to shower with the younger man and start things all over again but Namjoon was finding that he preferred the thrill of acting on impulse as opposed to his usual planning. Everything about Jimin made Namjoon want to experience everything life had to offer. Jimin looked rather tired as they had breakfast together in his tiny kitchen. "I like your bed." Namjoon piped up. "Why?" Jimin asked curiously. "It's smaller than mine and it smells nice and it's warm." Namjoon said sheepishly. Jimin's full-sized mattress felt like a sanctuary and Namjoon wanted to hide away in it beneath the earthy scented blankets. Jimin smiled brightly and looked out the kitchen window, "Hey... I was wondering if... when you leave Busan... do you wanna stay in touch?" His smile faltered and he looked as if he was preparing for a crushing blow. "Of course... _yeah_." Namjoon said eagerly. Jimin bit his lip and looked down at his toast, "I was sort of expecting things to get cold." He said. "I've never stayed for breakfast with anyone... or even stayed the night." Namjoon admitted quietly. "That's okay... there's always a first time for everything." Jimin said warmly, "Think of how boring life would be if we never got to do new things." "Before I came here, I wasn't doing anything new." Namjoon said. "Boring, wasn't it?" Jimin asked as he sipped his green tea. Namjoon nodded and mulled over the past two days. "Eating an entire platter of food... waking up and not going for a jog... riding on a surfboard... seeing a starfish move... _touching_ a starfish... _wishing_ on a starfish... spending the night with someone... not feeling weird about the sex." Namjoon said more to himself. Jimin sipped his tea and Namjoon looked at the dark purple mark he had put on Jimin's neck the night before. "Nobody's ever held my hand during sex." He piped up. Jimin frowned and finished the rest of his tea, "That's one of the best things in the world." He sighed and reached out to touch Namjoon's hand, "Besides.... you have nice hands." Namjoon's hands dwarfed Jimin's and they both laughed. "They... felt good on me." Jimin whispered. Namjoon smiled at him and sipped his tea, "I haven't looked at my phone since you texted me yesterday... everyone is probably wondering where I am." He said. "Maybe you should just let them know that you're alright." Jimin said softly. "My phone's at my place." Namjoon said with a shrug. Jimin chuckled and got up to clear the table, "I'm starting to see that selfish streak." "I like having my way." Namjoon laughed. Jimin put their plates in the sink and turned around, "At least you're not a selfish lover." He teased. Namjoon stood up and pressed Jimin against the counter, "Was it that good?" He asked against Jimin's lips. Jimin kissed him and pressed his hands to his chest, "You woke up and had to have me again so you tell me." Jimin whispered. Namjoon wanted to stay in Busan and grow closer to Jimin, "You weren't all _that._ " He teased. "Then why are you all over me?" Jimin giggled. Namjoon gently tugged on Jimin's hair and they shared another kiss, "I don't know why I like you so much." He pondered. "Sheesh, we've known each other for nearly three whole days and you can't find _one_ redeeming quality?" Jimin snickered. "Not a single one." Namjoon whispered playfully. "That's sad... I can think of one of yours." Jimin said with a pout. "Like?" Namjoon laughed. Jimin stared down at where his stomach met Namjoon's hips then looked back up at him and winked. Namjoon kissed Jimin's neck before pulling away, "Your mouth is actually some kind of wonderful." He whispered and Jimin blushed wildly. Namjoon was in no rush to leave and judging by the way Jimin pulled him back into his bedroom, he wasn't either. Jimin's room was small and accented with white and blue; his full-size bed was in the center of the room between two white nightstands and beneath a wide bay window. "Have you ever smoked?" Jimin asked quietly. "Smoked what?" Namjoon asked as he watched Jimin fish around in his top bureau drawer. "This." Jimin after turning around and showing Namjoon a small Ziploc bag with four joints in it. "It's been a while." Namjoon said as he sat down in Jimin's bed. Jimin opened the bay window and a cool breeze blew in. "I always open the window first... I don't want my apartment to stink." He said and sat cross-legged near his pillows. Namjoon laid back and watched Jimin take a purple lighter out of his nightstand drawer. Jimin pulled a joint from the bag then closed it back and sat it on the nightstand. | 4007c3fe2bb445489a310ad74b98483c | ['e462099e8fd4448b9bec8b4b1d9639a6'] | "Chanyeol?" I say softly. Chanyeol lowers the car radio as we cruise through Brooklyn. "Hm?" He hums and turns onto Flatbush. "I'm sorry I tried to kill your father." I say awkwardly. He laughs that deep, goofy laugh and reaches a hand over to pat my shoulder, "You did what I wanted to do... I didn't want her to be with him. Seoyeon was the greatest thing to happen to me. My dad had a way of finding the most precious women and fucking their lives up. I watched him drive my mom and so many other women crazy. I begged her to stay away from him. I know you thought I was just being selfish but I needed her to stay away from him. Seoyeon was so special. She was the _best_. I hate my father for ruining her like that. I wish I could've had _one_ _more_ moment with her. She was the only person who could call me Dumbo and make me feel good about it." Chanyeol looks sad and I realize that I'm not the only one hurting. "I loved her, Soo. She gave me a stability that my father never had." He's sniffles and blinks a few times. "Was it hard losing your dad?" I ask. "It was a relief, to be honest. All I've ever done is fix his bullshit and ask God why he hated me enough to make me his son. Before he met Seoyeon, he kept telling me that he was losing some battle. I thought he was just being stupid... I didn't know he was sick. I stopped asking him questions after he told me how many brothers and sisters I have." He shudders. "H-how many?" I ask. "Eight sisters and four brothers- their mothers are either dead or infected. Most of them think I knew- they won't talk to me." He's pensive but he holds it together, "At least I have Tatianna. She's the only one who'll talk to me. I love that kid. My dad actually tried to deny that he was her father because her mother is black. He said she was too dark to be his child. She has his eyes and those big ears- just like me." I laugh a little, "It's amazing how we both have had such shitty lives but you handled it better." "I'm not sure how I've held it together for so long." Chanyeol laughs bitterly, "I see him every time I look in the mirror. I _hate_ how much I look like him. It's like I'll never truly get away from him. I think I held on for you. You need it." "You're the first positive male figure I ever had." I say casually. Chanyeol smiles softly, "She told me. She asked me to look after you just before she died. I think I could've done better." We ride in silence for a few minutes. "I think you've done a great job, Chan. I wanna be closer to you." I say suddenly. "I'd like that. We can fix this weird ass family." Chanyeol laughs. "I- I love you, Chanyeol." I stammer. "You do?" Chanyeol gasps. "What the fuck. Yeah, that's why I said it. Say it back, it's getting awkward." I cringe. "I love you too." He giggles. I smile and glance out the window.
Jongin squeezes my hips softly when I straddle his legs. His living room is warm and smells like Jasmine. "We've been here for over two hours now and neither of us are naked. You know that's ridiculous, right?" I whisper and slip my fingers up his shirt. He kisses me, "I just wanna hold you." He wraps his arms around me and his body is warm and firm, "I always miss you when it's bedtime. I miss falling asleep next to you." Jongin whispers. I kiss his neck, "I always miss you." I sigh as I pop the button on his shirt and kiss his neck. "Soo... I don't wanna send you back with marks." He sighs hesitantly. "I don't care." I plead. Jongin pops the button on my jeans, "You're so..." He trails off. "Cute?" I ask softly. "Yes." He laughs fondly and kisses me roughly before pulling away, " _So_ cute."
5. 4
_**Kim Taehyung** _
"Why do they have to bring us our meals like we're in a hospital?" I ask Kyungsoo as I stir some honey into my tea. "Would you prefer it if they put us all in a cafeteria like we're inmates?" He shot back, once again snuggled up in my recliner. "Point taken." I mumble. "I didn't mean to sleep so late. Where's Amber?" "Doctor McMurphy has her. Usual session... she's okay." He replies, "You're gonna crave normalcy while you're here but you're not normal... you're not like everyone else- none of us are... that's why we're _here_." He sounds just a little sad, "You have to be careful and you have to do what's right. The funny thing about surviving an attempt is that you start getting full of yourself- start thinking that death can't touch you... that's where you're wrong. Death is still touching you, me, Amber... every single one of us on this floor... it never let us go." He's grim in the most calming way. "It won't always be like this, right?" I ask quietly. Kyungsoo shrugs, "I'm not sure. I've been told so many times that it goes away but I think the people who've said it just got good at ignoring it. I think it's like being blind... you don't like it but it's all you have so you live with it but not all of us are gonna pick up the weight and carry it... We can't all be Ray Charles." Kyungsoo looks at me with a weak smile. "You haven't given up, have you?" I ask and take another sip of tea. "I have to attend the funerals of all of my enemies- I haven't given up. Besides, Jongin and Chanyeol are counting on me." He chuckles. I smile, "You're running on sheer will, love, and spite." He nods. "Pretty much."
"Joan visited me this morning before she headed to her audition." I tell Jooni as we stroll through Central Park. The cool Spring air has a bit of chill to it so I slip my hands into my hoodie pocket. Jooni smirks, "You just _love_ knowing about us, don't you?" "Of course. She suits you." I reply. We continue walking in silence for a few minutes. "Jooni?" I pipe up. "Yeah?" He replies. "I'm sorry for what I put you through. I know that had to be pretty traumatic." I feel my stomach sink but he and I have never talked about it and I know he only ignores it for my sake. "I'm not sorry. I'd rather deal with the memory of finding you like that then deal with the weight of losing you. It may not seem like it, but that was a miracle. I tell myself that so that I don't cry when I think about it." Jooni gives me a warm smile and slinks his arm over my shoulder. I feel guilt roll inside of me and I purse my lips shut. I hate the fact that he's going to have to live with that visual for the rest his life and I know that my guilt will be just as everlasting. "Do you want something hot to drink?" He suddenly asks and I'm grateful for the change of topic. "Yeah." I say quietly. We make our way over to a small snack and beverage stand. "Hot chocolate?" He inquires. I nod and he chuckles. As we wait, I look around at the leaves that are budding slowly but surely. I think about how my mother would always tell me about how seasonal changes were a good time to see one's own personal transformation. "We're like the seaons, my love. We're always changing. Our changes can either bring bitterness like the cold of Winter or beauty like roses in the Spring." She would say. I miss her desperately and wrap my arms around myself in an attempt to hug the pain out of the pit of my stomach. "Yah." Jooni says breaking my train of thought. He hands me a cup and the warmth soothes me for a moment. Just a moment.
Jimin and I sit across from each other and sip strawberry milkshakes in a booth inside the Coldstone a few blocks from his apartment. "Are you and Kookie still mad at each other?" I ask. "Not really... it's just awkward." Jimin replies, "Why exactly did you two break up?" I ponder and fiddle with my straw. "It just didn't seem right for us to be together. We can be friends again one day but we just can't be lovers." Jimin sounds disappointed but he almost comes off as passive, "It was fun though... The sex was _great."_ "Greasy little Jeon Jungkook can acually get someone off?" I ask in disbelief. "Psshh, that boy has _stamina_." JImin is almost moaning and I'm grossed out but equally amused. "He just keeps _going_. He wouldn't stop unless I tapped out." He sighs and stares at his straw. His mind is obviously in overdrive. "You can't get back with him because he's good in bed." I whisper. "He wasn't _good_ , he was fucking _otherworldy."_ A young woman guides her teetering daughter over to the booth booth behind me so I spin around and rise up onto my knees, "Miss, she's beautiful." I say quetly then smile at the young girl. "Thank you." The woman says with an awkward smile. I blow the girl a kiss and turn back around. "Now as I was saying... That's _wrong,_ Jimin." I say lowly. Jimin leans in threateningly close, "Let him fuck _you_ and _then_ tell me I'm wrong, _Tae."_ He spits shamelessly. I lean back and stare at him; he stares back passively. "You're such a slut." I whisper. "Thank him for that." He laughs. I shake my head and sip my milkshake. Jimin looks over at the door and his eyes grow wide, "Shit, what'd you do, talk him up?" I turn around and peer over the top of my seat. Jungkook comes in and heads over to the counter. I smile and watch him order his usual mint chocolate chip ice cream on a waffle cone. Jimin tenses up, "Tae, so help me _God_... if you call him over, I-" "Jungkookie!" I call out. Junkgook whips around and his eyes fall on me, "Tae!" He exclaims. He quickly pays the cashier and scurries over. He sits beside Jimin and smiles at me, "You look great." He says, "You say that everytime you see me- you said it yesterday." I laugh, "Gotta keep that self esteem up." He shoots back. "So you're just gonna fucking ignore me." Jimin says and turns to glare at Jungkook. "Well, you wouldn't look at me so I figured that's what you wanted." Jungkook sighs. Jimin scoffs, " _Now_ you care about what I want... cute." "Stop being such a fucking baby. All I've ever done is give you what you want." Jungkooks deadpans and stares at his ice cream. Jimin rolls his eyes, "Move." He says. "What?" Jungkook mumbles. "Move. I wanna get up." Jimin sighs. "No. Keep your ass right there. You can't fucking avoid me forever." Jungkook says trying hide his annoyance. Jimin leans over and steals a few licks of Jungkook's ice cream, "You don't wanna talk to me but you'll eat my ice cream." Jungkook scoffs. Jimin nods and goes in for another taste. "Maybe you two should try again." I interject. "Nope, he's too immature." Jimin objects. "You're just too clingy." Jungkook scoffs. "Am not." Jimin replies and holds Jungkook's hand steady to continue eating his ice cream. "Do you want it? Because I can just go buy another one and you can have this one." Jungkook huffs. "No, I'd rather have yours." Jimin says quietly and Jungkook just watches him with a fond smile. They're in love and it's so unorthodox. "That's why your ass is so fat." Jungkook says and inches closer to Jimin. "You're complaining?" Jimin growls and slaps the ice cream cone out of Jungkook's hand; it lands on the table with a soft, wet thump and the cone crumbles a bit. "Did I say I was complaining? Do I ever complain?" Jungkook half yells, "I don't even complain about how fucking spoiled and overly sensitive you are. Why would I complain about your ass when it's literally the _only_ thing about you that doesn't make me wanna strangle you?" "So I'm all ass and nothing else?" Jimin asks angrilly and crosses his arms. This is too entertaining and I watch intently. Jungkook slams his hands down on the table and Jimin and I both flinch. "Just admit that you miss me." Jungkook says with a frustrated sigh. Jimin shakes his head, "I miss the sex." He whispers. "You. Miss. _Me."_ Jungkook says lowly. Jimin looks to me for help and I shrug. "Can I get up... please?" Jimin says. His voice is small. "Why are acting like this when _you_ broke up with _me_?" Jungkook asks calmly. I watch Jimin stare down at the table. "He ended it?" I ask curiously. "Not exactly. He just told me that things were so forced and that we were both just going through the motions." Jungkook replies but he never takes his eyes off of Jimin. "I thought you were just using me." Jimin says quietly. "Why the hell didn't you just say that?" Jungkook asks patiently. "People don't admit to doing things like that, Jungkook." Jimin says as he pokes at the melting ice cream with his straw. "You wanted to make me suffer too." Jungkook says more to himself. JImin nods and purses his lips, "It hurt... I didn't know what else to do." "But what about the whole sex thing? You we-" "What the fuck, Tae, shut up." Jimin hisses. "What sex thing?" Jungkook asks. "He was gonna get back with you just for the sex." I say nervously as Jimin glares at me. "Oh... _really_ , Jimin?" Jungkook says with amusement. "It's better than not having you. I mean I can't exactly poke holes in a condom and use our unborn child to keep you- I don't have a uterus." Jimin mumbles awkwardly. Jungkook laughs and leans into Jimin, "You do love me." He says. Jimin nods and his lips turn up into a faint smile.
"My pills make me _so_ tired, Mr. Dean. I feel like I'm living in slow motion because I'm always sleepy." I complain as I spin around in Mr. Dean's chair. I'm dizzy but at least I feel something other than tired, lonely, and guilty. "Maybe if you stopped staying up so late to talk to Soo, you wouldn't be as tired." Mr. Dean laughs as he slides a book into an empty spot on his brown bookshelf. "You know about that?" I ask as I continue spinning. "Yeah. He told me. If you're tired, take your ass to sleep." Mr. Dean says and takes a seat in the chair in front of his desk. "He's interesting, though." I laugh. "I don't think your boyfriend would like hearing you say that." Mr. Dean laughs. "I don't have a boyfriend." I say slowly. "Hobi isn't- but... why aren't you two dating? I mean, you're _all over_ each other. It's so cute that it's annoying. God, and the way he says your name- ' _Tae... Tae... **Tae**_ _'_ it's... friggen gross." Mr. Dean cringes a bit. I cover my face and laugh, "I like him but I don't think he likes me that way." "Oh, he does. I'm sure of it. I'll set you two up." He says and rubs his hands together. "Mr. Dean... _no."_ I plead. " _Yes._ You're both little bitches and you're getting nowhere. I'm just going to talk to him so don't worry. I'm like your cool big brother, you're in good hands."
"Dean said that you like me." Hobi says as he shuts his apartment door. I spin around, "Did he? What exactly did he say?" I ask nervously. "He said that you told him that I'm really hot and that you... you- he said you like my ass." Hobi stammers. "Oh my God, I did _not_ say that." I whine and cover my face. "So you don't like me?" Hobi asks and takes a step closer to me. "Yeah... I- well- yeah but- that wasn't what I told him. He said he was gonna talk to you." I sit on the couch and look everywhere but at him. He sits down beside me- so close, "Well, he _did_ talk to me..." I shrug, "He's embarrassing." I mutter. "I'm grateful for it. I've been meaning to talk to you about this." Hobi is serious but a smile plays at the corners of his lips and I find myself wanting to just touch him. "Do you still love Yoongi?" He whispers. For the first time ever, I can't say with total assurance that I do. "I... I don't know." I whisper back. He nods and kisses my forehead, "I love you but... _no,_ I just love you. No 'buts'. Think about it okay? If you find that you still want him, that's okay but I don't want you thinking of him when I kiss you." Hobi says. His smile doesn't reach eyes and I feel a pain in my chest. Maybe this was a bad idea.
**_June 3rd, 2007_**
_"Tae, why do you love everyone?" Mama asks me as she pulls the weeds from the strawberry patch. The backyard is particularly bright and the sun warms my spine sweetly as I knead at a barren patch of wet soil. "What do you mean, mama?" I ask and squeeze at the cool soil. Mama laughs and looks over at me, "Don't mind that question right now but ask yourself that as you get older. You're so special. I know that there are a lot of things going on in your head. I know more than you think I do but I'll wait for you to be ready... I know you'll tell me everything one day but please do it the right way." She says seriously. I stare down at my hands and flex my fingers, "Yes, mama." I whisper. I don't understand exactly what she means but I feel like I'm not supposed to... not yet at least. I look at her and smile. She's so beautiful and I lean forward to kiss her nose, "Mama, you're too pretty for your own good. I wish I could fit you in my pocket and keep you with me all the time." I giggle. "You're the only boy I know that wants to be around his mother all the time." She laughs. "I just like you. One day, I'm gonna live somewhere far away and you'll wish you could fit in my pocket." I say and she plunges her hands into the soil beside mine, "No matter where you go, I'll always be with you. Your heart is far too big for you to not have a little room for me." She says. I nod and cover her hands with soil, "You won't forget to stop and feel the dirt every once in a while, right, mama?" I ask. "Never." She laughs._ |
a8b8170fbf6e42b4ba14e309d4af59e2 | ['e46c401f443544f49eaa78342ca990e1'] | “I won’t let them,” Peter promised which they all knew had no weight but no one argued.
“Please, please leave. I’m tired.”
“Moony --- ”
“Please!” Remus looked at Sirius; it was unbearable.
Slowly they all stood up and got back under the invisibility cloak.
“Good night.” Their unseen bodies said.
“Good night.” He was lying on the bed turned away from them.
They walked out of the hospital wing and up to their common room.
They got in their pajamas silently. They got in their beds silently. They all felt defeated silently.
Sirius couldn’t believe this. For months they’d been trying to solve this, and Remus was going to throw all that away because he cared too much about them? What about him? What about Sirius and what he wanted? Sirius wanted to help Remus. Right in that moment in time nothing meant more to him. Not even worrying about making the quidditch team or his parents’ hatred or his brothers’ resentment matched how much he cared about helping Remus.
Maybe it was because his parents hated him and his brother wouldn’t talk to him that this meant so much to him. Remus was his family. James and Peter and Remus were his family. When his real family wouldn’t, they were there for him. Merlin, that’s all he wanted to do now.
His bed felt too small with the curtains shut. His muscles felt tight and restless like they were being pulled on in every direction. He felt like jumping in the lake just to be engulfed by its cold. Just to feel awake. Just to be reminded that maybe he wasn’t useless. To wake up.
As suddenly as McGonagall had shapeshifted back into a person, Sirius was up out of his bed and ripping open James’ curtains. He knew James was awake, because there hadn’t been any snoring. James was an avid, monstrous snorer.
“What do you want Sirius?” He asked leaning over to his nightstand to grab his glasses.
Sirius sat down near James’ feet.
“Why should we let Remus decide what we do?”
James sighed like he had already given up before they’d even really started.
“Because Sirius. The goal is to help Remus not hurt him more.”
“He doesn’t realize that we would be helping him. He’s just being Moony. Selfless and humble and a complete senseless git.”
“Geez Sirius do you even like Remus.”
“Of course I like Remus. That’s why I want to do this.” Sirius insisted.
“And what? We just don’t tell him we’re doing it?” James asked.
“We don’t tell him we’re doing it.” Sirius repeated.
“But it’s still dangerous,” Peter whispered crawling onto the other side of James’ bed. He had evidently heard them conversing and decided to come over.
“Who decides that it’s dangerous?” Sirius countered. “If you asked any wizard they’d say it’s dangerous for us to go to school with Remus because of his condition. But we know he wouldn’t kill a fly.”
“But Sirius it’s really advanced magic. What if we can’t do it?” James looked at him with squinting eyes like he wasn’t seeing properly and trying to understand something.
“James, who’s better at transfiguration than you! No one! If anyone can it’s you!”
By this time Sirius was feeling better. He was beginning to be reminded of that weightless feeling he’d had in the hospital wing. They were going to say yes. He knew it.
“But it’s illegal Sirius. Aren’t you afraid of being sent to Azkaban?” Peter asked timidly.
“Fuck Azkaban! I don’t give a damn about Azkaban or the bloody dementors! This is more important. We’ve got to do it.”
“Okay.” James smiled again broad and all encompassing like the sun had been when it came up over the grounds that morning.
Sirius began laughing and James joined in. They were insane. There were a million reasons this wasn’t going to work, but a million reasons why it was worth a shot.
Peter looked between them in awe.
“What do you say Pete? Are you going to help us?”
Peter looked at them for a moment longer before nodding vigorously. This caused another laugh from Sirius which in turn caused James and Peter to laugh. They were absolutely insane to even think about doing this.
When the laughing died down Sirius said, “So it’s agreed. We’ll become animagi, and we won’t tell Remus until we’re close?”
The other two both agreed.
“Can we get started now?” James had the same eager spark in his eyes.
“Yes,” And together the three brothers began on the long and difficult journey to meet up with their last and most loved brother of all.
**Author's Note:**
> If you stuck with this story until the very end, thank you. (ha do you see what I did there?) (but seriously thank you this story is a trainwreck omg). Please let me know what you think! | 90a3c6b1fc644278ab710d0639b4afab | ['e46c401f443544f49eaa78342ca990e1'] |
raincoats & recipes
**Author's Note:**
> Lol, this fic is wild. Please enjoy it.
>
> As you might have noticed in the tags, this fic is basically canon complaint except for plot purposes in this Chowder and Farmer didn't start dating their freshman year.
>
> Okay, thanks.
_I’m so in my head / when we’re outta touch_ —Carly Rae Jepsen
_Everything has gone from me / but the certainty of your goodness._ —Hanif Willis-Abdurraqib
In hindsight, Derek shouldn’t have signed up for a creative writing class with his girlfriend of a month. Or, at the very least, he shouldn’t have shared any poems that weren’t strictly about her.
“You’re in love with someone else,” Sarah says. Her pretty face is shaped into a scowl.
“What— I don’t,” Derek says (sometimes, he is clumsy with his words too). “What are you talking about?”
Sarah rolls her eyes and pulls the sheet of notebook paper out from under her textbook (Derek’s printer was broken, so he’d had to handcopy five copies of his poem to share with his writing group).
She clears her throat, “The days and weeks bleed incessantly into one another / My mom on the phone asks me to please shake out of it / As if it is that easy / Here is my story, how disjointed and clumsy it must look to you / Yesterday you said I’ve changed then you shook your head / and said maybe it isn’t me but you / How it’s always you and this spinning, / autumn all year round.”
Sarah looks up at him.
In hindsight, that was a pretty stupid poem.
“That’s about…”
She shakes her head, “It’s not about me, Derek.”
There is hurt in her voice protected so carefully in understanding. She takes his hand.
“I wish it could be,” he tells her.
She smiles sympathetically and squeezes his hand, “I don’t know who she is, but she’d be crazy not to like you back.”
Derek leans forward, kissing her knuckles where her hand is clasped in his, “Thank you.”
“Text me, you know, if things don’t work out with her.” Sarah’s head is tilted up towards his own, hopeful.
He nods his head okay.
* * *
Will finds out about Nursey’s break up like this:
“Sarah and I broke up,” Nursey says to Bitty and Holster at the breakfast table.
Will drops his spoon into his cereal, letting it clatter.
“Oh honey,” Bitty says, a look of total concern rushing over his still summer tanned face. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Nursey shakes his head, “Nah. It’s chill.”
Will rolls his eyes at that, and Chowder nudges his arm, “Your cereal is getting soggy, Dex.”
But the look he gives Will and then Nurse is too knowing, a horrible mix of sympathy and vicarious hope. He feels his cheeks grow red, and he tries to roll his eyes again (he’s unsuccessful and takes another bite of his cereal instead. Then spits it out, Chowder was right).
When he looks back up, Nursey is looking at him. He gives Will a soft smile, then turns back to his food. It is, of course, the exact thing to remind Will that he is perhaps being selfish. Derek just broke up with his girlfriend, the last thing he needs is his d-man pining after him.
But damn, that smile.
* * *
(Later when they’re alone in the den, sitting a respectable six inches apart, Will asks him the same question Bitty asked in the dining hall.
Quietly, “Do you want to talk about it?”
Nursey swallows. Will watches the movement greedily.
“Nah, man. Like I said, it’s chill.”
It’s dark in the room except for the light glow of the tv playing, and perhaps that is why he feels brave enough to reach over and place a hand, briefly, on Nursey’s knee. “Okay, well, I’m like here if you need to or whatever.”
Nursey closes his eyes, and he looks far away. The room is so quiet somehow, despite Bitty taking a shower upstairs and some of the other boys hanging out on the front porch.
Nursey nods his head, “I know. Thank you.”
Then Will pulls his hand back and tries not to let Nursey see how it shakes.)
* * *
Will, Nursey, Chowder, Bitty, and Jack are sitting around a study table two weeks later when something weird happens.
For starters, it’s pretty weird in itself that Jack is with them. Usually when he visits, Bitty and him spend most of their time holed up in Bitty’s room. Whether Bitty gets any studying done is something Will is really uninterested in knowing.
“Listen, Dex,” Nursey is saying to him while he’s trying to work through a problem set. “You read this one book, and I’ll like fix the garbage disposal next time it fucks up or something.”
Will rolls his eyes. “I really don’t think anyone wants you fixing the garbage disposal, man.”
Nursey smiles, “Fine, then how bout you just read the book?”
Will looks away from his computer and down at where Nursey’s hands are holding a book out towards him on the table. It reads The Alchemist.
He shakes his head, “Looks boring.”
Nursey scoffs, “Are you, William Poindexter, judging a book by its cover?”
“I would never.”
Nursey is about to retort when Bitty clears his throat. “Nursey, I’m going on a coffee run. Wanna come with?”
Will doesn’t want his conversation with Nursey to stop quite yet and is about to offer to come with instead of Bitty, when Bitty says pointedly to Chowder, “You too.”
Chowder looks at Will but shrugs and leaves with the other two.
So now it is only Will and Jack. Weird.
Will goes back to his problem set. Jack studies his phone for a minute, then looks up.
“Dex?”
“Uh, yeah?” |
b93584d5032c47e9b6bca895121fd000 | ['e479c5c64eb04b5ab16754139250b793'] | Oxygen.
I woke up in a small room. Next to me, there was an unfimilar woman in blue clothing. Infront of us, there were drawings of this and that. People, shapes, sceneries. We were surrounded by letters and envelopes, each one is written with a different font. On the floor, there were five candles. Red and tall. The room was dense, absolutely and completely sealed. You can barely see the room’s walls. The fire from the candles didn’t reach them. All you can do is pull your hand out, stroke the wall with your palm and realize that there is not a single aperture of air in this room.
The woman in blue began to talk. She asked me questions, about myself, about my life. We bond very quickly. What other choice do you have when your'e locked in a room this small with only one person. We tried to understand why and how we got here. Why us? Why the five candles? What’s the meaning of those drawings? We analysed some theories together. We talked nonstop. It’s the only thing that halped us preserve human dignity. The mystery. She started flirting with me. She told me a joke; “Why didn’t the skeleton go to the prom? Because he had no-body to go with”. I admit, I laughed.
The woman in blue did not show any affection nor intrest in the drawings. She preferred to lay on the floor and look at the ceiling. Me, on the contrary, my curiosity is stronger then me. I walked around the room, examing the drawings with my eyes. I tested every single one of the drawings.
The paintings were on point. The artist who drew them knew how to express what the eye sees via coal. Along the accuracy, there was an abstraction of some kind. Directed distortions. You can clearly see that the person didn’t think too much when he drew. He didn’t plan this. He just allowed the the power in his neurons flow into his palm and draw the picture in his head. As I examed the drawings with my eyes, the woman in blue kept talking in the background. Kept flirting with me. She told me jokes, and stories, and tales. The room was full of noise. Her noise. Maybe that’s what kept me sane for the longest run.
I found a letter that grabbed my attention more then the rest of them. It didn’t say much, but it was well organized.
“Friendship - What works for you, works for me.
Competition - What doesn’t work for you, works for me.”
I wanted to share the woman in blue with the letter, but then I realized something. Everything became obvious. It’s like I was having a closure with myself.
There is no friendship here. Only a competition. And even though we had no food to fight on and not even water, there was still one thing to compete about. Oxygen.
It’s kind of ironic, but it makes sense at the same time. The one thing we took for granted our entire life, is now more precious then life itself. And now, when we don’t have plenty of it, and it’s being divided to five candles and two women, it holds more value then anything else. It happend to all of us at some point. Everyone had that one thing that was always available for them, and they took it for greanted. When they took it for granted, it disappeared. That’s when they realized there’s a hole in their hearts and there’s nothing for them to fill it with.
I wanted to win this competition. The woman in blue took a nap on the floor. I stayed up and set next to her vertical figure. The time passed. When I was sure she was fully asleep, I got up from my seat and turned off the candles. She did not stir. Now I got rid of five minor-competitors. The only one left was the main competitor. The human laying by my side.
I approached the woman in blue quietly. From this to that, I sat on her abdomen, placed both of my palms on her dark-skinned neck and chocked her. By the time she woke up from her slumber, she was already one second away from death. I killed the woman in blue.
I won the competition. I just doubled my longevity. All the oxygen is mine. Pleased with my victory, I set on the floor next to the body in blue.
It was quiet. You can easily notice she’s gone. There was no woman in blue flirting with me. No woman in blue talking with me. No woman in blue trying to bogart my air.
I counted the seconds. The minutes. The hours. I got bored. And then I had another closure with myself.
Oxygen is worth nothing unless you have someone to share it with. | b1b10f24c88342e89308b3d055778308 | ['e479c5c64eb04b5ab16754139250b793'] |
She has to keep it real.
It was early in the morning, somewhere between 4AM to 5AM, the sun has yet to rise upon the sky and the streets were dark purple colored, you could only hear the high-pitched whispers of the morning birds. Shane walked into her garage, a regular ritual she does every morning with the rising sun. Black colored boots along with a black, rickety jeans, a wonky belt and you could see her red boxers showing outside. She wore big work gloves and had her hair precariously collected into a low ponytail, hair falling off of it right on her forhead and cheeks. She grabbed a tool box and approached to her motorbike, an unfished project she has been working on for the last few days and still requaires some work on it.
All of the sudden, she notices a flashing light coming from behind her repeatedly. She turned around in a wondering facial and saw Sylvia standing right behing her, holding her phone out to take pictures of Shane. "Didn't see ya there." She spat out to her direction before turning around to her toolbox again. "I just got here and couldn't resist taking a few photos. I can't help it, when I like what I see, I want to memorize it with a picture." Shane smiled underneath her nose before wearing her work goggles. "You can have a seat on that red box over there. I just finished fixing up around here so I didn't get much furniture yet." Sylvia chuckled. "I would actually rather stay right where I am, the view here is excellent." Shane didn't respond to that and moved to welder the wheels on the motorcycle, which Sylvia found extremly hot and sneaked in a couple more shots with her phone.
"Did you eat any breakfast yet?" Sylvia asked between one picture to another. "Not hungry." Shane spat out before grabbing another tool from her box. Sylvia pouted. "Give me your apartment keys. I'll fix something up for you. Would you like some bacons? Or would you rather have an omlette with a side salad?" Shane rose on her feet and flexed her muscles, Sylvia thought she was going to faint at the sight of this. "Aren't you supposed to be at work or something?" Shane asked. "Not until later this afternoon, I have a big modeling project I need to attend at 4PM, I'm free until then. Why, are you trying to get rid of me?" Shane let a cocky grin escape her lips. "Maybe." Sylvia grabbed the nearest rag she could find and threw it to Shane's direction with a pout on her face. Shave took a small step back and grabbed the rag before it hit her. "Ha, thanks, I actally needed that." She said before sitting on one knee again and got back to working on her motorbike.
"You know", Sylvia breathed, "If it's a motorcycle you want, I could just buy you one." she said, crossing her arms together. "And what's the fun in that?" Shane asked while trying to fix a wheel on her machine. "Is that what you concider 'fun'? Seriously? If it's fun you want, let's go out and do some shopping!" Sylvia suggested enthusiasticaly. "Ugh." Shane whispered underneath her nose. "Come on, you've got motor litter all over your beautiful skin. A handsome girl like yourself shouldn't be getting her hands all dirty like that! Go take a shower." She said, grabbing Shane's arm muscle and pulling her up to her feet before hugging her tightly from behind, giving her a few kisses on her back. "I hate going to the mall." Shane insisted and let out a moan of desperation. "I'd let you drive my car." Sylvia whispered into to Shane's back muscles and titled her car keys infront of Shane's face. Shane's blue colored eyes started to glow, it has been quite a while since she last drove around this town in a car and she kind of missed that.
Shane agressively kidnapped the keys out of Sylvia's hands and broke out from her loving embrace before moving to Sylvia's car. Sylvia looked at her go and smiled as she crossed her arms together. "Aren't you forgetting something?" Shane stopped and gave her a wondering face. "Your clothes. Go change." Sylvia said as she rolled her eyes and smiled. "And take a shower while you're at it. I don't want your motor oil all over my car seats." Shane groanted. "Whatever." she said and took the opposite direction to her apartment. Sylvia followed her. |
867cc1ec3c7f461f9f09a3717fc638e3 | ['e4a971c940914a26a97ee5cfbda62f2b'] | Morgan lets out a soft sigh, testing the hold of the cuffs by exerting a small amount of outward force and whispers “Perfect.” As long as he can easily see Spencer and verbally communicate, he’s comfortable. When he gets tied up, he’s never situated on his front; that much has always been a constant.
Slipping quietly from the bed, Reid removes his clothes; a simple button up, a pair of cords and loose briefs. He opts to leave his socks on, the worn fabric adorned with green and white stripes as well as small music notes. It’s something he suspects Morgan of appreciating and although the other man hasn’t been outright with admittance, Reid’s seen him regarding his socks with a fond expression, even helping him to launder them. The recollection makes him smile absently and he has to give his head a little shake, a physical reminder to refocus on Morgan, who’s observing his movements with an air of curiosity, admiration and a hint of arousal.
Reid grabs the tube of lubricant and a couple of condoms from the nightstand drawer before placing them on the side of the mattress just in case and perching between Morgan’s extended legs. Catching his partner’s eye, he scoots back a bit and stretches out at the end of the bed to brush his lips over the arch of one of his feet; cool hand curling around the ankle as he slowly travels along smooth skin. He gives a few nips to Morgan’s muscular calf before switching to the other leg to lick at the back of his knee, causing Morgan to give a little gasp; that area is sensitive and Reid knows it as he continues to mouth over the spot. He runs his cheek over the tender skin of Morgan’s inner thigh, smattering of facial hair along his jaw creating an enticing rub of friction and the other man gives a low groan for his efforts, straining a little against the handcuffs. It gives Reid some satisfaction to be able to draw such a reaction from Morgan, who’s known for his composure as well as his ability to impact others, so it’s an inspiring feeling.
Shifting up along his chest, Reid runs his tongue along the crux of Morgan’s groin and moves upward to wind around his belly button, the trail of pubic hair tickling his chin slightly as he goes. His hands massage along defined thighs, contrasting his teasing tongue by providing a placating motion for Morgan’s body, which has tensed as its arousal increases. Reaching Morgan’s upper torso, Reid asks, curious to confirm the effect he’s having, “How do you feel, Derek?”
Morgan’s eyes are shut as he grunts, “Nnn, feel good. You make me feel good, Spencer. Better.”
“I’m glad,” Reid replies, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he runs his palm in slow circles over Morgan’s belly because he doesn’t think Derek realizes that his eyes are indeed closed; something he’s been trying so hard not to do. Maybe a distraction was just what he needed.
During times like these, comfort isn’t necessarily derived from the sex itself, but rather from knowing that the connection between the two of them is real; in these situations, it’s Reid’s job to help Morgan remember that so he can temporarily forget. Paradoxically intriguing, but the truth nevertheless. So in this moment, bound to the bedframe yet open and free, Morgan is at his safest. Neither feels like having penetrative sex now because it’s really not about that. Being able to get Morgan grounded simply through restraint and knowing touches is a rewarding high to reach and it’s enough. It’s not about pain or orgasm delay (or even orgasming at all); it’s about recalling the support system the two of them have and using it as anchorage.
Reid checks anyway. “Do you need me to make love to you, Derek? Make you come?”
Morgan’s already shaking his head. “Not tonight, Spencer. This – having you take care of me – has been just what I needed. I – I’m glad I have you.”
“And I’m glad I can be here for you,” Reid tells him, hands returning to Morgan’s wrists once more to unfasten the cuffs, rubbing the now-exposed skin gently.
It might be strange or difficult to understand how such a brief encounter could be so beneficially significant, but its effectiveness had been proven many times prior and it can be reassuring to have a specialized routine to turn to when required.
Returning the handcuffs to their box and the unused supplies to the drawer, Reid rolls his shoulders a few times, uncoiling his own body before stretching out beside Morgan. Slowly, Morgan inches over and rests his head on Reid’s chest, the other man’s heartbeat providing another lifeline for him to grasp. As he closes his eyes, he no longer sees those of their cases’ victims staring hauntingly back at him; just calming, enveloping darkness. It’s temporary, he knows that, but it’ll do for now.
Sensing his partner’s drowsiness, Reid flicks off his lamp, hand moving back up to stroke Morgan’s head again, quiet and calm. | da529a9f534245179c7c21d5ea98bb16 | ['e4a971c940914a26a97ee5cfbda62f2b'] | Morgan’s voice is low, but a whine of slightly higher a pitch can be detected as he struggles to share the words that have congealed into a series of taunting thoughts at the figurative front of his mind. For him to be so unravelled indicates the severity of the situation, Reid determines as he listens. “It’s the eyes, Spencer. I – they’d finally gone away but something must have triggered it recently and it’s messing with my head again. Every time I close my eyes, I see theirs reflected back at me, just emptily staring, you know? And I – I don’t know how to make it stop. I just want to have it go away again so I can sleep for more than a few hours a night.” He pauses to take a breath before continuing with “That’s why I need you; need you to help me forget them. Well -” he flushes – “that’s not the only reason, of course. I always need you...” Morgan trails off, somewhat glad to have revealed the information, now trying to detach his gaze from Reid’s, who has been taking in the information attentively.
“I know just the thing, Derek. But you need to take off your clothes and I’ll go get what we need.” Reid’s voice is firm but leaves a hint of room for Morgan to be comfortable with; this is about continuing to provide him with a source to invest his trust and safety in and Reid knows that for Derek Morgan to agree to his suggestions, the implication is that he’s an outlet of unparalleled quality and reassurance.
Stepping away from the bed, Reid walks to the closet, ensuring that his posture radiates a calm, poised air. He’s not pretending, though. When he’s with Derek he encounters no hesitation, no doubt in his abilities. It’s an enviable aspect of their bond, being able to complement each other so seamlessly and to this day, it’s something they both marvel at privately.
The storage space is neatly organized, each item has its designated space so between his eidetic memory and tidy habits, it takes Reid mere seconds to locate the theme of his search. Perched on a shelf in the middle of the stack lies an unremarkable black box which he removes before turning back to Morgan, who is still sitting on the edge of the mattress but divested of all clothing now. Perhaps he’s somehow convinced himself of its factuality, but Reid perceives Morgan’s eyes to darken slightly upon catching a glimpse of the item in his hands. Joining him once more, Reid puts the box on the nightstand before indicating to Morgan to help him pull the duvet back so it’s situated at the foot of the bed.
Small task completed, he murmurs “Lie on your back for me,” and watches while Morgan nods minutely to himself, knees hitting the edge before slowly crawling to the center and rotates so he’s looking at Reid intently, awaiting his next instruction. He doesn’t appear vulnerable, though. This kind of exposure doesn’t make him feel unsafe or distrustful; when he’s alone with Reid, Morgan knows he needn’t fear for his well-being because if he really thinks about it, Reid’s predominant concern is him, he comes first. It’s an odd concept for Morgan to wrap his head around, that someone cares about him so deeply and purely that he can let himself be looked after, let himself break down like he has now. From a distance, it feels slightly reminiscent of how Carl had first “taken care of him,” but he’s quickly come to realize that his relationship with Reid couldn’t be more contrasting to what he and Carl had. With Reid, reciprocation is welcome, as is the ability to say “no” and be confident in the fact that the other will honour that requirement. And, somewhat surprisingly, it feels good to have someone he needs just as much as they need him. An unusual realization at first, difficult to adjust to, but he’s certainly come to appreciate what they have.
As Reid moves to accompany him on the bed now, Morgan is overcome by the sheer respect and appreciation he has for the other man; when he’s so worn down like this it can be a little overwhelming to remember that he has Reid to turn to, but it’s something he’s forever grateful for.
Settled by Morgan’s side, Reid frames the other man’s face with his hands, tilting it toward him; thumbs smoothing over his closed eyelids, feeling the delicacy of the skin and observing how the faint shadows cast by his lashes accentuate the half circles of darkness under his eyes. Leaning in slightly, he brushes his lips over the smudges, as though trying to caress them away. He certainly knows how it feels to constantly look exhausted, his own face mirrors Morgan’s, he realizes a little belatedly after pulling back.
“I’ll take good care of you, Derek, okay? But if I do something that you don’t like or it’s too much, you use the safewords. Tell them to me now, please.” Reid’s voice is steady, eyes holding Morgan’s as he waits for the answers.
“‘Yellow’ for when we need to check in and slow things down, and ‘red’ to stop everything immediately.” Morgan’s reply is calm and measured; he’s ready. Ready to let himself go under Reid, ready to forget.
“Good.” After running his hands down his shoulders and arms, Reid grasps Morgan’s wrists firmly, bringing them up to his mouth to apply a few open-mouthed kisses over the skin before raising them to touch the rails of the headboard. “Keep still for a moment,” he said while reaching back to the nightstand to retrieve two sets of lined handcuffs from the box. He moves with a practiced ease; working efficiently to fasten the rings around both frames, ensuring to achieve a snugness that would be simultaneously practical and comfortable. Satisfied, he murmurs “How’s that, Derek?” |
404c53728e664613ae18362f3220fab6 | ['e4ada30e8a7448158736789d5efa495d'] |
Resonance
“Well then where the shit n’ shag is she?” Pidge says, personally affronted.
Shiro silently plucks the comm from Pidge’s ear. “Now, if you ever talk like that in front of me and I find out about it,” he mutters, shaking his head in a manner that Keith’s only seen grandmothers pull off.
On the other line, Lance’s snuffling laugh trickles through.
“What else are you two seeing down there?” Shiro says, enunciating every word. Hunk’s comm pings in with a cheerful xylophone jingle.
Shiro’s shoulders drop. Keith pats him sympathetically.
_ Dude, seriously, there’s nothing here. Everything’s working fine. _ Hunk’s staticy voice comes through the dashboard. _ Have you tried turning it off and turning it on again? _
Shiro opens his mouth, then closes it.
Keith can _ hear _ Lance’s head shake. _ Bruh. Windows. _
_ Windows, _ Hunk agrees.
“I don’t think the Black Lion uses Windows,” Shiro says, strained.
_ D’you think she could run Doom? _
Lance gasps for a full five seconds. _ YES. Pidge. _
“If she doesn’t, she’s not our lion.” Pidge says gravely.
_ I wouldn’t expect anything less. _
_ Hunky I actually would have expected that of you, of all people. _
_ Why? _
_ Have you ever _ **_looked_ ** _ at your bayard? _
There’s a pause, in which Shiro cocks his head.
Then he cracks a silly grin, trying to cover it with his hand. Keith’s brow furrows.
“What?”
Lance’s laughter bubbles over the comm again, shorting out as he starts going higher than the microphone can register.
When he speaks, Hunk sounds awed. _...It’s a BFG… _
“The what?”
“His bayard looks like a BFG.” Shiro’s started to fall apart now, smile cracking its way onto his face even as he tries to compose himself. “The Big Fucking Gun. The Doom gun.”
_ I don’t think Keith’s played Doom, _ Lance says.
“Yes, I have, once.” Keith’s face scrunches. “Someone at my high school tried to run it on a fitbit.”
“Really? Did it work?” Shiro turns around to look at him, brow raised.
“Yeah, but it died after like five minutes.” Keith ponders this. “It was fun. Shit graphics, but fun.”
_ I’m glad we’re starting to recycle good memes, Lance’s are getting repetitive. _
Lance makes a hurt noise. _ Forgive me for having limited source material in the ass end of a mecha lion in the ass end of space. _
_ I’d argue that’s actually where the most material is. _
“Okay! Back on track, please.” Shiro clears his throat, feeling very much like a kindergarten teacher. “Lance, Hunk, if you’re not finding anything come back up. She might just be late.”
_ A Queen is never late, everyone else is simply early, _ Hunk says daintily, before his comm cuts off with another jingle.
****
This is not an ideal situation for Keith.
A day earlier, he and Pidge had been dropped on a desert planet as temporary escorts to the emissary of a rebel commander. Desert, Keith could deal with- But a desert that was swathed in perpetual darkness, its only lifeline strung along by a temperamental pair of black suns that burned and soured the land at all times was somewhat pushing it. He and Pidge were wrapped in feather-light grey cloth, wrapping around their arms and tunics and faces until nothing was exposed. When Lance dropped them off in Blue the other day he wouldn’t shut up about how they looked like ‘goth phase Reys.’
Pidge had pursed her lips. “Doesn’t that just make us Kylo Ren?”
Lance made an affronted sound, only his indignant pointer finger visible over the top of his pilot seat. “You did not just equate Kylo Ren with Rey in this lion. You did not just do that. That’s like comparing Keith and Lotor.”
“Who’s Rey in that configuration?”
Lance snorted. “Keith, duh. Sad, defensive desert orphans.” He paused, then said “No offense. Love ya bud.”
It was easier with the wrapping, but his eye sockets and the inside of his mouth had dried far quicker than he was used to under his mask. They negotiated the terms of their so-far peaceful partnership relatively quick, and the emissary was transported safely. There was no need for Keith’s marmora blade or whatever Pidge had picked up -a stubby, serrated thing with no discernable handle that Keith would generously call a shank.
As a result, both he and Pidge have sand in places he didn’t know there could be sand, and he’s starting to hate it. He didn’t think he hated sand. As a sad, defensive desert orphan, he’d lived in Arizona all his life, and he’d developed a pretty neutral relationship with sand. But the fact that it’s the only kind of substance that is the exact same throughout every planet they’ve been to, and that it feels like it’s in his _ taint, _ is leaning him further towards unadulterated loathing.
Here he stands, a mound of cloth and blades and contempt and sand, and the comms are down and Allura is late.
He wants his lion. A bath then a snack then a nap in Red’s cockpit.
While Keith’s daydreaming, Pidge goes down again, and finds nothing wrong with Black. But still their radar blares empty. Finally, the comm patches through, fuzzy with feedback, to the castle.
“Princess!” Shiro thumbs the volume. “Allura, can you hear me?”
_ Yes, yes, yes, I can hear you! _ She sounds frazzled, even through the sticky channel. _ We’re at the coordinates, where are you? _
Shiro’s brow furrows. Pidge blinks. “What do you mean _ where are we, _ we’re here.”
_ What? _
Pidge leans over the dash and checks their coordinates, reads them out number by number to Allura. Lance, who has been rhythmically squeaking his boots up the wall for the past ten minutes, raises his head. “What’s wrong?” | 64b964b100d44268ba04630495533e38 | ['e4ada30e8a7448158736789d5efa495d'] | It happened by accident the first time, when they were lazing around, coming back from a mission that made them feel like crap, as they were wont to do.
There was enough room for the five of them to spread out and not bump elbows- but they piled together somatically, the feeling the same as when Shiro and Keith fall asleep on each other’s shoulders, when Lance finds Pidge and Hunk spooning on the nest of pillows down in the lab. And they fell into each other’s brains like salt into water, conduction present but no impulse to paralyze them where they lay.
There was darkness curling at all corners of their space. All five kept their secrets for the time being, all five were reserved enough that they slipped out soon enough, back into their own bodies in the pool and not a one the wiser.
****
Shiro’s eye jumps. He turns away from Hunk’s pinched face and rubs the bridge of his nose, sighing gustily. He can feel his own pulse deep inside his hideous migraine, pushing against his optic nerve in a way that only gives him another reason to want to bang his head against a wall.
He feels twitchy, restless even though he knows he’s exhausted. If he tries to sleep now, he knows instinctively that sleep paralysis will set in.
Still, he risks shutting his eyes for a few moments.
And when he opens them, he isn’t surprised to find the gleam of the fire reflected off tanned skin in the corner of his vision.
It’s been several months since this started happening. He used to be ecstatic, afraid, crushing them together like he would disappear if Shiro let go for even a moment.
Now he greets it like an old friend, his presence exhausting.
“Hi, Mattie.” He murmurs.
“Hi, Shiro.” Matt replies, equally as soft.
**Author's Note:**
> Hello! sure has been a Frickin while
> that's okay though, because during that Frickin while I've had a lot of shit happen. and the thing with shit happening is it changes your mindset sometimes. And sometimes that reason is because of two deaths in the family, or because you hate talking about money, or because work or university gets to you, or because your parents who have quietly pretended to like each other on the downlow your whole entire life finalize their divorce with three kids between the ages of 22 and 16 in the middle of it and you realize you don't know what a healthy relationship really looks like and you question your own sexuality and what you put out into the world based on your personal experiences and how they have shaped you
> it be like dat sometimes
> anyway im posting again because i write because it makes me happy and I have achieved the mindset and the motivation to want to be happy again in this way.
>
> Also cause I haven't watched Voltron in like 2 years and i heard it sucks now and since I've had this in the barrel for that long i figured now was the time, if only to spam r/idiots with screencaps of the comments this may or may not rake in
> PEACE & LOVE see u around |
07c219bec3544b4eb34043317b54d3a0 | ['e4b86d8b1dac4146bc253548d7171834'] | "It's _sufficiently_ too long," Sonic retorted, though he was 90% sure that he wasn't using that word correctly.
"Your opinion on the matter is irrelevant," Neo said, getting into a fighting stance, "and that will only be further proven once I defeat you."
Sonic smirked. "That right? So, are you gonna shoot rockets at me, or get a slow wrecking ball and—"
Neo reacted—much quicker than Sonic had expected—and it only took a second before Sonic was on the ground with Neo holding him down.
Sonic was just a little impressed.
"Do you take me for a fool, simply because I was one of the doctor's creations?" Neo asked.
Sonic raised a brow, unafraid despite the vulnerable position he was in. "I thought you said you _weren't_ Egghead's lacky?"
"I was created by him, but I have far surpassed him and have taken on my own identity. I was 'Metal Sonic' then, and I am 'Neo Metal Sonic' now."
Sonic refrained from pointing out that adding 'Neo' to a name that Eggman made didn't count as having his own identity. "Ahuh. And you want to kill me _why?_"
"It was the directive I was created with," Neo answered, one hand on Sonic's shoulder while the other was raised to strike. "Therefore, I must carry it out."
"...Oh," Sonic replied, pouting a bit.
Neo glared. "What do you mean by that?"
Sonic glanced casually off to to the side. "Nothing, just disappointed. Thought you really betrayed Eggman for a sec."
"I have!" Neo insisted, sounding offended. "I am no longer under his control."
"Oh yeah?" Sonic challenged with both skepticism and smugness. "Following an order Egghead gave when he made you doesn't sound weird to you?"
"I—"
Neo's optics flickered. His fingers twitched. Sonic looked on with curiosity, surprised that a robot had actually considered what he'd said.
Neo stood up, letting out a beeping noise as he clutched his head. Sonic pushed himself into a sitting position, watching as Neo seemed to have some sort of crisis.
Sonic supposed there wasn't going to be a boss fight today. It was a bit of a shame, considering that he was kind of looking forward to fighting Neo despite his gripes.
He shrugged it off mentally, then went to dash past Neo. However, his arm was almost immediately grabbed, pulling him back.
"Wait!"
Sonic glanced back, confused. "What?"
He couldn't tell if Neo was glaring at him or not. "It...it was admittedly not optimal for me to attack you without question, given the circumstances. In my pursuit of a purpose, I did not consider that I was continuing to follow the doctor's orders."
Sonic didn't reply, but thought to himself that the fact should've been obvious. Though, he supposed that, if Neo had really _just_ been made, it was weirdly natural that he'd be scatter-brained.
_Very_ weirdly natural.
"But..." Neo continued, "you cannot simply leave me here."
Sonic blinked. "Why not?"
"Because—" Neo's grip on Sonic's wrist tightened. "Because _you_ are the one who brought up this conundrum! T-therefore, _you_ must be the one to get me out of it!"
Sonic paused, slowly absorbing what Neo was trying to tell him. Neo even let go of his wrist, hands on his hips and his chest puffed out as if he was so sure of what he was saying.
Finally, Sonic snorted. Then, he laughed, doubling over as Neo looked on in confusion.
"What are you doing?" Neo asked. "I do not understand."
Sonic took a moment to compose himself, then stood straight and grinned. "You're funny, Neo."
"...Funny?" Neo echoed. "And furthermore, my full title is—"
Sonic held a hand up, silencing him. "Lesson one of being your own thing: don't use the name that Eggman gave you."
Neo stared at Sonic, looking unusually thoughtful about the comment, then nodded.
"And okay, you can come with me," Sonic agreed, turning away from him. He glanced back just to give Neo a smirk. "_If_ you can keep up."
Neo beeped. "These are acceptable terms."
Sonic nodded, then readied himself before speeding off in the direction he'd been going before Neo showed up. It wasn't his top speed, but he was sure to go at a pace he didn't think anyone could keep up with.
Although he'd expected to immediately leave Neo in the dust, he heard the revving of an engine and looked behind him to see that, surprisingly, Neo actually _was_ keeping up.
Sonic was a little more than impressed.
3. Water
Metal was absolutely _furious_ with the doctor. Once he'd finished up here, he was _intent_ on giving the doctor a piece of his mind.
...T-through a strongly worded letter, of course. A strongly worded, long... anonymous letter.
Metal stomped along the pathway of Aquarium Park, his head swiveling left and right as he tried to pick up Sonic's energy signal. Sonic typically radiated energy, but given the current circumstances, it was expected that he wouldn't have many avenues in which to release it.
Of course, that didn't make Metal any less frustrated. It wasn't that he was concerned about Sonic, because he wasn't, but it would be profoundly suboptimal to find that Sonic had already perished.
He was certain that Sonic wouldn't, but he... he still needed to find him.
Metal just barely sensed Sonic upon approaching one of the many water-filled areas. Sonic breached the water for a second before grabbing hold of the pathway's edge in a desperate attempt to not sink again.
He gasped for air, then coughed up a small amount of water. After putting his head down to groan, he finally noticed Metal and glanced up at him.
His ears drooped with exhaustion. "Ugh. Hey, I know you probably wanna fight, but can we get a rain check or something on that?"
Metal, unphased, reached down and grabbed one of Sonic's hands. "We are in space. Therefore, it can not rain." | 15b69c36f1db4498924e093f4753a820 | ['e4b86d8b1dac4146bc253548d7171834'] | "Another..." Metal repeated. The honest answer was "yes", but after that reaction, Metal had calculated that it wasn't likely he'd make Sonic laugh just as much. Yet, Sonic was looking at him expectantly, his grin approximately 10% wider than usual; Metal would know, as he kept many notes on the variations of Sonic's smile.
His jokes had not been fully optimized. Even if he spent his processors perfecting just one, it would still take much longer than the average responding time, and Sonic would be concerned. If he told an incomplete joke, Sonic would be confused. If he told an unoptimized joke, Sonic wouldn't laugh as hard. Sonic could potentially be disappointed with that. If he said nothing at all or claimed he had no further humor, Sonic could also be potentially disappointed. Metal didn't want Sonic to be disappointed. If he responded and Sonic was confused or disappointed, Metal would feel disappointed in himself.
"Metal?" Sonic called, noticing the fuzziness of Metal's eyes, which usually meant he was thinking hard about something.
Metal's eyes came back into focus. Sonic was concerned, meaning that time had passed without Metal's notice. How much thought had gone into thinking up a simple joke, when Sonic hardly had to think at all to do one? _Pathetic._
Sonic frowned. "You don't have to tell me another joke if you can't think of any, bud."
"I do," he responded without thinking. Metal knew Sonic was only trying to reassure him, but now he felt _challenged._ He was Eggman's greatest creation, made to trash anything and everything that he needed to. Yet, he could also think, feel, and reason, more so than any other robot.
Constructing a funny joke? He'd only need a floppy disk's worth of data.
Sonic raised a brow, but rested his head in his palm, elbow against the grass. Metal could tell that Sonic didn't feel certain, but was waiting for his reply nonetheless.
Metal scanned through his list of potential jokes again. If they were all failures, then the solution was simple; make something new. He gathered all information in his dictionary. His word processor was already in overuse from trying before, but he could repair it later if it burnt out.
Jokes needed to be funny. Hilarity could be made in the form of irony, wit, or stretches made to impossible lengths to the point where it's humorous.
His processor spat something back out at him. His gears churned at the result, but he knew this would work.
He turned towards Sonic. "I adore you more than you are aware; more than Eggman enjoys trying to destroy you."
He waited, expecting - _anticipating_ \- laughter. Sonic's ears had flickered, as though Metal had been heard, but no laughter followed. Metal checked his internal clock, which confirmed to him that time had indeed passed since he delivered the joke.
Did Sonic not understand? Metal felt frustrated. He would have to explain it, and the impact of a joke always lost effect when it needed explanation.
"It is funny because it is impossible for it to be returned. A relationship between a living being and a robot has never happened before. Despite those odds and my attempts to clear my hard drive of this emotion, it will not leave me. It is also ironic because I was meant to hate you, yet have found myself doing the exact opposite. That is an impossible length, irony, and the comparison of Eggman enjoying trying to destroy you in one. Therefore, it is hilarious."
Or, at least, it _should_ be hilarious. Sonic had sat up, mouth slightly open, but nothing came out. Metal turned up his hearing just to make sure, but it was the same result. Where had he failed in his calculations? He was supposed to accomplish two things at once; being honest with Sonic and getting him to laugh. So, why wasn't Sonic laughing?
Suddenly, a bad feeling settled in. He couldn't describe it and had never felt it before, but it was _there,_ and he _hated_ it.
He searched his system for errors, for anything that was wrong. An _excuse;_ he needed an excuse to leave. Though he was a robot, he could tell that the atmosphere was awkward.
He got up, turning his gaze away from Sonic. He readied himself to go, but felt Sonic's gloved hand grasp his, and tightly.
"W-whoa, wait. Did you mean that?" Sonic asked. "That's not a joke?"
It _was_ a joke. _These feelings_ were a joke.
"I am going to leave. I need to..." _Beep._ "...check my oil. If it is not checked within the next one hundred and thirty-two days, dangerous things could occur."
He tried to retract his hand from Sonic, but the force of Sonic's pull forced him to sit back down.
"Then that's one hundred and thirty- _one_ days that you don't need to go anywhere," Sonic argued firmly.
Metal felt his hard drive struggling, his faux nervous system reacting negatively to Sonic's touch. It made his hand shake with unease. He tried to distract himself, looking at anything that _wasn't_ Sonic.
"Mets, _look_ at me."
This wasn't right. He normally relished in Sonic's touch and felt empty when they were apart. Now, he wanted Sonic to let go and make distance between the two of them.
" _Metal._ "
"Conversations can be had without maintaining eye contact," Metal stated.
He heard Sonic sigh. It sounded conflicted. "N-no, that's not it. Come on, you know I'm bad with words."
"That is irrelevant. You do not need to say anything."
"Fine, I won't, but you have to _look at me_ then!"
Sonic was being insistent. Metal knew Sonic wouldn't give up or let go until Metal gave into his demands. He turned his head, staring at the ground momentarily before his eyes finally met with Sonic's.
Metal's shoulders were grasped. He was _pulled,_ pulled against Sonic. His muzzle was pulled against Sonic's _lips._ Metal knew the gesture, but had never experienced it himself; a kiss, meant for romantic partners.
It was quick, ending just as fast as it had begun, yet Metal couldn't process how it felt; only that it was wonderful. Sonic's cheeks were flushed red, significant shyness on his face that Metal had never seen on him before.
"There. Is that good enough?" Sonic asked. "Do you get it?"
Metal's insides felt warm, and pleasantly so. He checked to confirm, but his internal fans weren't malfunctioning.
Sonic's hand came in contact with Metal's cheek, Metal feeling the warmth intensify where Sonic's touch was. He looked, and Sonic wore a fond smile; a loving smile.
His calculations were wrong and he suddenly understood why. How did he not see this before? Sonic had always defied the impossible. Why would this be an exception?
"Yes. I understand." |
6b52c0532c6f44a0a4b2565fddde4988 | ['e4b9e636fe6740cd87a4366abdeb527d'] |
CAUGHT BY A STAR
My day was of a usual reporter I really liked my job it gave me opportunities to meet celebrities and so. But most people didn’t like me since I tend to be really persistent and pushy. Celebrities were usually scared of me since I tend to interfere and expose their private matters. But what can I do it’s the job that I get paid for. This time I had my eyes set on this one celebrity MIN YOONGI aka AGUST D. I still remember we used to go to college together but he never noticed me at all but I can’t really complain since I wasn’t that eye-catching of a person. Although he never noticed me I kinda had a thing for him, he was a really quiet shy person but he was strict with everyone he always had a rude comeback but from the inside, he was always soft. I had a deadline coming in two days but to a reporter, it’s like a death penalty. I have been stalking him day and night to get some juicy gossip on him. My boss was really getting impatient. But since I have been working there for a long time she cared about me she handed me a concert ticket and backstage meet for AGUST D’s mixtape and said if you can’t bring it to me by tomorrow after I am giving you such big leverage I will have to fire you. I was a big fan of him but this was my chance to look into his personal life and get some juicy news. I got ready in some pretty casual clothes which made me look cute but not too flashy as I didn’t want anyone to figure out in the concert that I am a reporter.
I reached there at 7 pm, I kinda liked his concert but the main motive was to get hot news on him and I was going to do it today for sure. I was about to go to the backstage after the concert but I heard some voices from the corner near the concert and as a reporter, it intrigued me. I heard two voices one female and the other male I saw from far away I hid behind a wall but I could hear them clearly. “Son you need to come back home you know we really don’t approve your carrier choice” “Mom I already told you I don’t want to go back to Daegu after coming this far.” I peeked from behind the wall it was yoongi and another elderly woman who seemed to be his mom, I took my phone out and started to videotape everything. “Mom I am not going to create a scene here, it’s going to affect my career” “But son your father wants you to join his business plus what about Jae Sun you know she still loves you” I was getting really excited since this is exactly what I wanted, some juicy gossip “Mom!!! She is nothing to me now I left her far behind after what she did to me”. It was getting to the good part when my phone began to ring and when I tell u my phone's ringtone is loud it means really loud and the fact that my surroundings were quiet didn’t help me at all. I started to panic both yoongi and his mom looked towards my direction I hid behind the wall and turned off my phone. Yoongi asked, “who is there?” I couldn’t figure out what to do when yoongi saw me and the phone was still videotaping. He looked at the phone and then he asked me, “who are you?” I ran from that place I took the backdoor out into the road I heard footsteps coming after me. But I ran as fast as I could and the heels weren’t helping at all. I ran to the taxi stand and jumped into a cab and told the cab driver to drive as fast as possible away from that place. When I looked back I saw a very angry yoongi staring towards the direction my taxi was going. I got pretty good information but I was scared since he saw my face. When I reached home I took out my wallet to pay the taxi driver when I realized I left my wallet somewhere then it hit me that I probably dropped it when running. I managed to pay the driver with the money I had left in my shirt pocket but what worried me was that I had left my Id in my wallet. Next morning I woke up to go to work I was pretty excited to get to work because of the juicy information. I got to work on time when I realized there is a black car standing near my office and standing near it was a man who I really didn’t want to see he was covering up pretty well but I realized it was him from a distance it was none other than min yoongi himself. | a1618f4e483c4403ae6f2dd3634cab96 | ['e4b9e636fe6740cd87a4366abdeb527d'] | I covered my face with my purse and took the back route into the office. But before I could get into the office I was pulled by my hand into another alleyway. I tried to resist but his hand was too strong when I looked up I realized it was none other than min yoongi. He came to a stop when he found a very secluded area. He let go of my hand and took off his mask. I tried to back away but he grabbed my hand and pulled me closer to him his eyes had a stern look. “Stay where you are or I will make you,” he said in a stern voice. I stood still in place, he stared at me for a couple of minutes before he breathed out and calmly asked “Were you there in my concert yesterday” I looked away “NNNOO, I don’t know what you are talking about.” He looked really handsome in his leather jacket and tight black ripped jeans but it was no time to think about those types of things. He still stared at me but his gaze got more intimidating. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out my Id and showed it to me “Isn’t this you, what did you see in the concert” I looked down when I realized I had my phone in my hand I tried to put it behind me but I was too late he snatched the phone away from me. “Tell me your password!!!” I started to try to snatch it away from him “GIVE IT BACK!” “I will never tell you!!” He smirked at me and threw the phone on the ground shattering my phone into more than three pieces. I glared at him and slapped him across the face “Do you even know what you just did it was all my important work that I had to present today...NOW ITS ALL GONE I AM GOING TO LOOSE MY JOB “ He pushed me against a nearby wall and brought his face close to mine “you are just like others ruining other people’s lives just because u need money it’s a fact all reporters just want news that could increase their income not thinking about other people’s lives.” I was hurt first of all I was fired second my crush had just caused it and didn’t even wait for me to explain the situation to him before he just made assumptions about me. I pushed him away and ran it hurt a lot of tears were streaming down my face. I decided to take a cab home since I would be fired anyway. Later in the day, I got a letter from the office saying I was fired. I reached home I closed the doors and finally broke down. I lived on ramen for the next three days I was really depressed when I got a call on the third day it was from big hit entertainment the same place yoongi worked under. They wanted to hire me as a secretary under a manager. I was really happy I got up took a shower and wore my formal clothes and rushed to big hit entertainment after going there I gave the interview and I passed. I was so excited but then they told me what I was supposed to do I was working under yoongi as a secretary and the worst part is that his manager is my ex-boyfriend Kim Seokjin. It couldn’t be any worse. I really didn’t want to do this job but when I was leaving I heard some girls say “did you know this new girl got her job because she is a slut she probably slept with the manager” “I heard they dated in college too” this pissed me off I slammed into the door and shouted “YAHH!!! What are you guys complaining about I thought people work here but look at you guys acting like a doll are you jealous bitches because you fucking should be” with that I left them now I am definitely going to prove those bitches wrong. I got up next morning getting ready in my formal clothes as it was my first day I made sure I looked perfect as I left the house. I went to the big hit office my room was placed right next to Seokjins. I was really nervous since I was meeting him after such a long time.Soon he came into my room, he looked exactly the same from when we were dating, Mr. Worldwide handsome. |
7bd0e9ae10234dab82d7aee4adde30e3 | ['e4d982759c3b4411b20ff43011d5e171'] | Your eyes slightly widened at the sentence that Shiro just said to you. You move upwards, sitting on Shiro's bed. A tight feeling formed inside of your stomach and you felt that you were about to cum, but you couldn't. You have never felt a feeling like this before. Before you could do anything, Shiro crawls forward to you and he blindfolds you quickly. You panic immediately and you wave your hands around, trying to find something to latch onto, but Shiro found your hands first. You hear Shiro chuckle to himself and he gently kisses your hands. You blush hard and you try to struggle out of Shiro's grip but it was no use. Shiro was just too strong and you were too weak against Shiro. When you get out of this, if you do, you will be working in the gym, for a long while now. You grumble to yourself, for being too weak and not strong enough against Shiro.
"I won't hurt you (y/n)~" Shiro whispered in your ear. You blushed hard and a shiver sent down your spine. Shiro chuckles once more before stroking your back, in up and down movements, gently. You know what Shiro is doing. He is teasing you, and then when you can't take anymore, you will beg for him to pound you like crazy. You know what he is doing, but he is doing it so much. You slightly twitch and you start to moan slightly. You bite your lip, in stopping yourself, and so thinks that he is winning in this little game that he is playing with you. You shift yourself towards Shiro, pressing your smaller body against his huge, strong build body. You can feel Shiro take a sharp intake of breath. You smile slightly, even you being blindfolded, you feel safe when you are with Shiro. You can feel Shiro's heartbeat racing. You nuzzle into him more and he takes another sharp intake of breath. You slightly smirk and you wrap your arms around his broad chest and you can feel his heartbeat going crazy now. He likes hugs and soft things.....placed in long-term memory. You hear Shiro grumble something.
"S-Shiro? Is ev-everything alright?" You feel Shiro nod and he places his head on yours. He makes you feel small once more. You slightly pout and Shiro laughs. He grabs your chin and places a soft kiss on your lips.
"Don't pout....You are ruining your beautiful smile..." Your face goes bright red and you freeze. I have a pretty smile...? Shiro laughs once more before he places more kisses down your body, trailing down to your lower body. You freeze up sometimes and sometimes you slightly shudder. He presses against you, signaling you to lay down on the bed once more. You follow what he tells you and you get a rough, hungry kiss on your lips as a reward. A smile plays on your lips as moves down to your lower area. He starts to fiddle with your balls and you let out a loud moan. He covers your mouth with his normal hand. He whispers in your ear,
"You can't be so loud (y/n)! Everyone else will hear you!" You nod slowly and he removes his hand from your mouth. You slightly bite your lip as he touches your butt hole. You can hear him slightly smirking. He moves closer to you once more and he presses his hands towards your mouth,
"Suck" Your eyebrows slightly knit but you open your mouth, obeying his orders and he places his fingers in your mouth and you start to suck on his fingers. You make sure that every part of his fingers is covered in your saliva. He removes his fingers from your mouth and you blush harshly. Shiro chuckles once more before inserting one finger inside of you. You let out a small cry of pain but you cover your mouth with your hand. He moves slowly up and down, and he starts to wiggle his finger inside of you. You arch your back and moan into your mouth. Shiro inserts two more fingers, stretching your insides and you almost scream, mixed with pain and pleasure. You want to moan out aloud but you couldn't, as everyone will hear you. You want Shiro now, but he is too busy placing you into the heat zone. You slightly grumble to yourself, but Shiro sees this and he ruffly inserts the 4th finger inside of you. You scream out in pain. This was a little too much. Tears start to form up in your eyes but that pain quickly turns into pleasure.
"(y/n)? Are you ready for it?~"
4. Chapter 4
You can't even hear Shiro properly. Your head was swimming with pleasure. You felt that you were floating on water, but you were on the ground.
"(y/n)? Are you alright?" Shiro pulls his fingers out of you and you let out a low groan. You slowly nod as beats of sweat trail down the side of your head.
"Y-Yeah- I am. Thanks for asking anyway- I just.... just never had an experience like this before..." Shiro's eyes slightly widen and you blush darkly, and a small smile plays upon your lips. "I wouldn't mind.... if you were my first..." Shiro blushed darkly as well and he slowly nodded as well. | b59fcec6c464498199b52b7910dd2bbc | ['e4d982759c3b4411b20ff43011d5e171'] | "Alright- It's my first time doing this to someone- Are you sure you want this?" You smile this time and you nod. You wanted this. Shiro would be the first person to do something like this. You had some ex's in the past, but they were all not the right person to do this. You needed to find the right person to do something important to do it with and Shiro is the best person to do it with. He was strong and tall and so sweet towards you. Shiro smiles back to you. Shiro moves off the bed and he grabs some lube. You shift yourself upwards and you sat on the bed. Shiro came back with the lube in his hands. He looked nervous.
"Are you alright Shiro?" Shiro smiles softly at you and he nods.
"Yeah I am- I- Never mind...How should we start this?" You smile, and you move forward to Shiro and you kiss him on the lips. Shiro's eyes widen and he kisses you back. He drops the bottle of lube on the bed and wraps his arms around you and he pushes you back onto the bed. You slightly moan into the kiss. Shiro grinds into you and you break the kiss and you moan loudly.
"Like this" Shiro laughs and he flips you over in one quick motion. You squeak slightly as Shiro flips you and Shiro whispers in your ear, in a deep voice,
"Like this? ~" Your ear turns bright red and Shiro chuckles in your ear once more. You slightly whimper and grind into the bed, showing Shiro that you want some friction. Shiro laughs once more before entering one finger inside of you. You bit your lip and slightly groan. He wiggles his finger inside of you once more, earning a sweet moan from you before taking his finger out. You feel empty without him inside of you. You want him. You are ready for Shiro. You hear Shiro lube himself up.
"Do you want me to use a condom?" Shiro asks, in your ear once more. You shake your head, turning your head to face him. You place a soft, but quick kiss on his lips. Your eyes are filled with lust and love and so was his. You smiled at him and he smiled back. He placed kisses all down your back until he hit your butt /hehe- butt// He heaves a sigh before entering you slowly. You close your eyes and grab the bed sheets tightly. It hurts slightly, but you knew that this pain will slowly turn into pleasure. Shiro asks,
"Can I enter you fully (y/n)?" You nod, breathing hard.
"P-Please Shi-Shiro-"
"You have to call me Daddy- Then I will you enter you~" You blush darkly and say,
"Please, Daddy- Daddy~ Enter me please~" Shiro smirks and he slams into you hard. He earns a loud moan from you and your eyes widen.
"Are you okay (y/n)? I am just making sure that you aren't hurt." You smile.
"Yeah- You can move if you want-" Shiro moves slowly and he earns another groan from you. It was so good- Shiro starts to move faster and you moan louder. You can feel Shiro's member pulsing inside of you. This was so good- too good- Shiro was feeling a lot of the pleasure as well. Shiro was going faster.
"Dam- (y/n) Your- Your so good~ I am so close~" You moan once more before saying, while slightly saying,
"Me-Me to Sh-Shiro!~" You feel Shiro twitch once more before he thrusts into you once more before he moans loudly and he comes inside of you. Your whole-body shudders with pleasure and you come soon after. Your whole body feels with warmth and Shiro pulls his member out of you. You fall onto the bed face first, panting hard. Shiro falls beside you, and you turn to face him. He pulls you close and you cuddle with him. You feel happy and warm all inside. You purr happily into Shiro and Shiro hums happily to you. He softly strokes your (h/c) (h/l). You smile while closing your eyes. You place your head on Shiro's chest and you hear his heartbeat. Your eyes close fully, and you start to feel sleepy. You mumble to Shiro,
"I love you Shiro" You hear Shiro laugh and he keeps stroking your hair as you fall asleep on his chest.
"I love you too (y/n)...."
-Thank you guys for reading this! I might add another chapter to this! A day after this all happens! It will be a lead on to the other lemon that I will be writing which will be Lance x Male! Reader! I hope you guys enjoyed this lemon! This is my first lemon, so, once again, thanks!-
5. Chapter 5
You woke up to the feel of Shiro's arm wrapped around your smaller waist. You look around and you see that Shiro and yourself are in clothes once more. A small smile plays on your lips and you sigh softly to yourself. Shiro must have done that when you were asleep, you think to yourself as you look down. You force yourself out of Shiro's grip, which was extremely hard for you because you had no upper arm strength, unlike Shiro. You sit up on the bed, and you sigh softly to yourself. You stretch slightly and you rub the sleep in your eyes.
"How long have I been asleep for-" You yawn as you mumble softly to yourself. Before you could finish your sentence, you feel Shiro wrap his arms around your waist once more and he nuzzles his head into your neck. A blush appears on your face and he chuckles softly. |
899fb3a043ae42f5b005bceb7c979233 | ['e4e79af0333c42a19335ee6368b53288'] | “Because then I wouldn’t be able to look at your cute face.” Hide loved saying things like that to Kaneki. It really was cute the way he would blush at the smallest things and try to hide his face. Sometimes it was hard to believe he was now a ‘dangerous’ SS rated ghoul with how bashful he could be. Of course he would never see Kaneki that way. To Hide he would always be Kaneki Ken, his best friend since childhood and love of his life.
Hide continued to lay on the couch, groaning and making other sounds of boredom which Kaneki promptly ignored. He just sat there reading his book and idly sipping at his coffee.
That’s when he got an idea.
Slowly he reached for the pillow he had thrown at Kaneki earlier; being careful not to alert the other.
“Hey… Kaneki.”
The other turned towards Hide.
“Catch!” And he threw the pillow at him. Of course Hide knew that Kaneki’s reflexes were too fast, that he would catch the pillow. That’s why he quickly reached behind him and threw another right behind the first.
Kaneki caught the pillow the other had thrown and turned towards him. “Hide I’m tr–“ And that’s when the second pillow hit him square in the face.
Hide sniggered to himself. It worked! It had actually worked, and the look on Kaneki’s face right now was priceless.
“Fine.” Kaneki set the book down next to his empty coffee cup. “If you want to play it way, we can play it that way.” He cracked one of his fingers and picked up the pillow that had fallen into his lap.
Hide quickly scrambled to get up, barely dodging a pillow that came flying at his face. He grabbed a pillow using it as a shield as he made his way around the coffee table, facing off with Kaneki. “You’ll never get me, my defense is impenetrable! Dare I say, im _pillow_ trable.” He waggled his eyebrows, pleased at his own joke.
“Alright, now I really do have to hit you for that.” Kaneki walked towards Hide, pillow in hand.
Hide matched his movements, keeping them at opposite ends of the table. “You’ll never catch me!”
Kaneki rolled his eyes at him. “Really, then let’s see how you’ll dodge this.” He sprang up, jumping over the table, pillow at the ready to hit the other.
Hide lifted his pillow just in time to block the blow from Kaneki, but the force sent him stumbling backwards. Even with just a pillow Kaneki was crazy strong now. And that is why he decided it was time for a tactical retreat, falling back into his room. He may not be sleeping in it anymore, but the bed still had artillery that could help him win this battle.
Hide heard the other coming down the hall after him. He threw the smaller pillow from the couch in the direction of the door, hoping it would hit the other when they entered, and he dived onto the bed to grab one of the better pillow weapons.
He turned back around just in time to see his surprise attack blocked by a red appendage.
“Hey! No fair!” Kaneki already had a natural strength and speed boost, but now he had four extra limbs to help him out. “That’s cheating!”
“All is fair in love and war Hide.”
Both of them went all out, throwing a barrage of pillows at each other. They hadn’t had a good pillow fight in years. It may be sort of childish now, but they couldn’t help but to laugh and have fun just like they used to.
Kaneki had the obvious advantage this time though, and it wasn’t long before Hide found himself being pushed back by the onslaught of pillows. The back of his knees soon hit the bed and he knew he was cornered. Kaneki continued to press forward, and he fell back onto the bed.
Hide felt a pillow gently hit his face, there was no force behind it. “I win.” He pulled the pillow away to see Kaneki smiling down at him.
“You may have won the battle, but mark my words, you have not won the war!”
Kaneki laughed. “No, but now it’s time for your _pun_ ishment. Plus I should get something like a victory kiss, right?”
“I suppose I could give you something like that.”
Kaneki began to lean down slowly, making Hide roll his eyes. “Just come here you dork.” He pulled Kaneki down on top of him and brought their lips together.
It started off just like all their other kisses had been so far, slow and sweet, just happy to be together, but the longer it went on the more heated it became.
Kaneki found Hide’s hands and grabbed hold of them, pressing Hide further down into the bed; enjoying the small sounds he made. He ran his tongue along Hide’s bottom lip, silently asking to deepen the kiss.
Hide accepted, opening his mouth to meet the other’s tongue with equal force. He wanted to tangle his hands in Kaneki’s soft white locks, but he couldn’t get out of the other’s grip no matter how hard he tried; Kaneki was too strong.
Their kiss went on and on, and when Kaneki finally pulled away both of them were out of breath.
“I think I know something we can do to relieve you of your boredom for a bit.”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> all the fun stuff happens next chapter, so stay tuned for that.
>
> Also, Hello, that hiking thing you suggested... it did not end like I originally planned. :T
8. Chapter 8
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> here is all the porn I promised. 7 pages of porn.
>
> Also 300 kudos. woo!
“And what as it that you thought of?” | 51fbf1a9ae2a4ad7a88bd96065f1c94b | ['e4e79af0333c42a19335ee6368b53288'] | “Touka!” The blond called out cheerily when he saw the familiar face of his favorite waitress.
She simply scowled at him. When he first went to her for coffee lessons he had confessed to knowing about her being a ghoul. She looked like she wanted to kill him on the spot, but he brought up how he was being monitored by the CCG and it would not be good for her to do anything rash; she seemed to back down a bit after that. He told her about how Kaneki was captured and what they have been doing, she had been really worried about him, and begrudgingly agreed to teach Hide how to properly brew coffee.
“I didn’t expect you to come on for another week, did something happen?” She asked, eyeing the blond as he walked up and leaned on the counter.
He smiled at her. “No, well nothing wrong today at least… I was just taking Kaneki on a date to get some coffee and stuff. He wasn’t feeling well the past few days, so I thought some Anteiku coffee made by the wonderful Touka would cheer him up a bit.”
Everything he said seemed to be ignored as soon as Kaneki’s name left his lips. “You mean that idiot is here?!” She began to relentlessly pound Hide with questions. “This isn’t some sort of trap, is it? Why are the doves just letting him walk about? And if he really can go about why hasn’t that idiot come back to say hi to us yet? Hinami has been worried sick about him.”
“Are you sure Hinami was the one worried and not you?” Hide joked, watching as Touka’s face started to turn red. “But to answer your questions, no it is not a trap and yes he is allowed out, but they still need to guard him when we go out. I think he doesn’t want to bring them into the shop though, so I had him wait by the window.”
They both looked over to see Kaneki glancing in the shop. Touka gave a small waved at him, which he returned before turning away once more.
“Well they better not try to do anything funny to him, or I’ll kill them.”
“Does that mean we have come to a point of the conversation where I can order the coffee?” Hide asked. He knew Touka was just being protective of the other, he understood that feeling very well, but if he took any longer Masanori might start thinking something’s up.
Touka sighed. “Yeah I’ll get your coffee.” She began to get to work behind the counter. “But seriously, they haven’t done anything to him, have they?”
“I wouldn’t say they’ve done nothing” Hide said, causing her head to sap up. “But it wasn’t that bad in reality. He only got a bit of food poisoning, compared to what they could do that really isn’t that bad.”
Touka turned back to the coffee, putting the grounds in the filter and beginning to pour water over them. “I guess you’re right about that… but what did they try to do, give him human food or something?”
“Bingo. They made up some lame reasoning about him being a half ghoul just to try something that they knew wouldn’t work.”
She scoffed. “That’s because they are a bunch of stupid pompous assholes.” She set two freshly brewed coffee cups on the counter. “Well, here is your coffee.”
“How much do I owe you?” Hide asked, reaching into his pocket to pull out his wallet.
“My idiot friend’s idiot boyfriend is trying to cheer him up because he is practically in jail by taking him on a coffee date. How could I make you pay when such a stupidly sweet scenario is playing out right before me?”
“Thanks Touka!” He said, turning to walk out of the shop. “I owe you one.”
“You bet you do.” She called back to him right before the bell on the door jingled, signaling that he had left the shop.
Hide walked over to Kaneki and handed him his coffee. “Here you go. Coffee for our coffee date.”
“Thank you Hide.” He said, taking the warm cup from the other. “So… what are we going to do now?”
“Well, what do you want to do?” Hide asked.
Kaneki couldn’t help but laugh. “You thought of this last minute didn’t you? With how eager you were to drag me out of the house I thought you had the day all planned out.”
The blond muttered something to himself, taking a sip of his coffee to hide his embarrassment.
“Why don’t we just walk around for a bit, maybe hit a few stores if anything looks good?” Kaneki said, moving to stand beside Hide. He took ahold of the others hand, lacing their fingers together.
It was nice just being able to walk around his old ward again. He had only been away from it for a few months, but it felt rather nostalgic. It was also nice just being able to walk about next to Hide. Hide has done so much for him in the past few months. Even before all of this Hide was there, from the moment the blond had come up and introduced himself he had become an irreparable existence in Kaneki’s life. That’s why even simple things like this made him incredibly happy. |
06d841cd203b40e5b0599a4cd53cadee | ['e4efc87141204de3844ae9d1a54495a5'] | Tyler gets almost everything on the breakfast menu, watching out of the corner of his eye as Jenna makes her way closer and closer to Josh, her body getting more comfortable as each moment ticks by. Long smooth legs are soon draped across Josh's lap, his hand resting on Jenna's knee comfortably. It's almost as if everything has gone back to normal-yet Tyler can see the ache in his best friend.
He'd never fully understood what the look was until Josh confessed. It all made sense now. And it made Tyler's heart hurt even more as he knew that look from the one being given to him right before his wedding. He thought it was supposed to be a reassuring look for Tyler, but he now sees that it's a reassuring look meant for himself.
Almost trying to convince himself that everything will be okay even though he isn't right now.
Tyler ended the call with room service but keeps the phone to his ear so he can continue to absentmindedly stare at his wife throwing herself on his best friend. When Josh visibly gulps, Tyler looks up to his eye to see Josh staring right back at him. Tyler smiles, hanging up the phone and pushing off of the wall he was leaning against.
The bed dips beside Josh, Tyler sitting down softly beside him and sighing. Josh stiffens, only relaxing slightly when Tyler leans his head on Josh's shoulder and stares across him to Jenna who watches Tyler with observant eyes. Sighing, Tyler's breath washes over Josh's chest, causing a shiver to run through him. Goosebumps cause Josh's skin to raise, his brow furrowing as he gulps slowly.
Jenna smiles, nodding to Tyler who simply smiles against Josh's shoulder. Tyler reaches up, his arms expanding across Josh's chest and gently pushing him down so they can lay on the bed. Josh sighs as Tyler lays his head on his chest, staring over at Jenna, who's sloppy bun splays across the mattress beautifully.
Jenna stretches her legs up, laying across Tyler as well, letting him grab onto her ankle firmly and rub her shins. She sighs, enjoying the massage on her legs that seem to always be sore from walking so much.
Josh sighs quietly, bringing his arm up to drape over his head and cover his eyes. When a knock on the door finally sounds off, Tyler smiles, kissing Josh's chest softly and jumping up to get the food from the door. Josh is surprised by the action. He thanks the staff member and brings the food in, letting Jenna organize it perfectly for a photo.
Josh is patient with her as she arranged the food perfectly and holds the bagel up to her eye to look through at the camera. The smile on Josh's face makes Tyler finally start to understand his own feelings as well.
It's never home without Josh around. As long as he has these two amazing people then he could be anywhere in the world and not be sad. He always has home with him.
Jenna is finally satisfied with the picture, munching away on the food next to her two favourite boys.
"You're beautiful," Tyler says to her, making her grin and shove the last of her bagel in her mouth as disgustingly as she can, "still beautiful," he laughs, looking over at Josh who stares at her with an equal amount of happiness plastered across his face.
Tyler watches as Josh spreads his peanut butter on his toast, "you are too," Tyler whispers suddenly, his expression serious as Josh looks up, taken aback. Jenna smiles, poking her finger in Josh's peanut butter and licking it from her finger. Josh's cheeks are bright red as Tyler refuses to break eye contact.
"So beautiful," Jenna agrees, placing her hand on the side of Josh's face softly. Josh looks over at her unexpectedly, his quick intake of breath is the only thing heard as Tyler watches his wife place her lips on his best friends. He smiles, watching her pull away slightly before pressing forwards for another.
Josh's brow is furrowed as Jenna's hand softly rubs the side of his cheek. He nearly whimpers at the loss of contact, his eyes flashing over to Tyler instantly. A soft, happy smile is all he receives as Tyler lifts Josh's toast towards his mouth. Josh quickly snatches the toast back, eyeing Tyler carefully.
Tyler grins, "you just kissed my wife! I can take your toast!" He jokes, making Jenna slap his shoulder and giggle happily.
Josh gulps, making Tyler lean forward, "it's okay," when Tyler deems the space not close enough, he shuffles closer to Josh. Tyler grabs Josh's neck, pulling him in and looking him in the eye, "she's not just mine anymore Josh. And you belong to us now okay?" Josh's expression is all that's needed as an answer. A whimper nearly falls from his lips as he nods hesitantly.
Tyler smiles, leaning forward and brushing their lips. Tyler gulps, kissing the corner of Josh's mouth last second. Josh's lips are pursed, prepared for the contact but Tyler can't bring himself to change their friendship fully yet. He doesn't want to be the one in charge of changing everything. Tyler looks away, nerves racking through his body.
"If you mean that then you'll really kiss me," Josh says suddenly. This time Tyler is the one surprised.
Jenna watches with careful eyes, her hand holding Tyler's as Josh rubs her knee. Tyler looks back up, his eyes connecting with his best friends slowly.
"This changes everything, you know that right?" Tyler asks, looking at both of them.
"It's already started, there's no way we could turn it all around. Even if we wanted to," Jenna comments, leaning into Josh's side and pulling Tyler closer to them both. Tyler smiles, grabbing the side of Josh's jaw and tracing his thumb over his chin, pulling him level with himself. | edf747d4b547461ab39ccd395df5c028 | ['e4efc87141204de3844ae9d1a54495a5'] | "You wanna taste her?" Josh looks up at Tyler, nodding instantly, "you get one lick," Tyler demands, "like this. And only like this." Josh's heart pounds against his chest as Tyler leans in slowly. He takes in the stench of Jenna, the sweetness flowing into his nostrils as Tyler gently caresses the entirety of Jenna's pussy and clit with a flat, unsatisfying lick. Tyler licks up some of her juices, tasting her briefly before looking to Josh.
Josh leans forward, looking up at Tyler who nods encouragingly.
"One lick," he allows, watching as Josh closes his eyes to breath in Jenna's smell once more. He looks up at Jenna who lay a helpless whimpering mess on the mattress.
Josh licks a careful stripe up Jenna's core, his tongue slipping over her heat that nearly sucks him in with temptation. He presses down harder on her clit, hoping to relieve some pressure but only succeeding in making Jenna more needy.
"Please ty, more," Josh looks up at Tyler who shakes his head, "please Tyler," Josh begs, wanting to taste more of the beautiful girl. Tyler grips Josh's jaw and kisses him aggressively, practically shoving their tongues into each other's mouths to taste Jenna on each of their tongues.
"No." Tyler demands, "don't you wanna see all of her first?" Tyler smiles, watching as Josh's eyes light up. Tyler smiles shuffling up the bed to sit beside Jenna's torso.
Tyler slides Jenna's blue hoodie up her body, stopping to see just enough of her under boobs. Josh eyes carefully. Reaching down, Tyler grabs Josh's hand and drags it up to Jenna's breast carefully. Josh sighs, enveloping Jenna's breast in his rough hands. Jenna whimpers, pushing her chest into Josh's hands, needy.
Tyler pulls Jenna's hoodie up and over her head, her breasts spilling out and nipples hard as ever. They jiggle, Josh's hand twisting her one nipple ever so slightly.
Tyler grins, leaning down and latching onto a mouthful of her breast flesh. Josh groans loudly, Tyler's mouth slurping and nipping at her nipple with determination.
"Wanna?" Tyler asks, Josh quickly following him up to her breast and latching on.
Jenna moans loudly, looking down at her two boys suckle at her tits desperately. She sighs, placing a hand on each of their heads and pushing them in closer. Her eyes flutter shut, her head falling back as Tyler locks eye contact with Josh and his mouthful of his wife's breast. He mouths desperately, eyes watering with excitement as Tyler kisses Jenna's breast tenderly.
"Last but not least," Tyler says, pulling Josh away from his new mothers soft plump tits. Josh groans, licking her nipple softly as an apology for the teasing.
Tyler quickly flips Jenna's body, her squeal being heard throughout the room loudly. Tyler laughs breathily, slapping Jenna's ass that jiggles playfully, Jenna laughs too, pulling her knees up underneath her to reveal her tight pink asshole.
"Jenna won't let me inside her ass," Tyler teases playfully, "yet," he adds, making Josh laugh too.
"Doesn't mean you can't have a taste," Jenna bites back, making Josh look over at Tyler who reaches down and drags some of her wetness up to her asshole.
Tyler presses a finger experimentally to her tight ring of muscles, "oh yea?" Tyler bites back, making Jenna flip over fast.
"That's what I thought," Tyler laughs as Jenna denies that action. Tyler looks over at Josh with heavy eyes, "maybe you'll let me?" Tyler asks, leaning forward to grab his waist firmly. The air in Josh's throat gets stuck as he looks up at his best friend with desperation. Tyler's hand slips into the back of Josh's pants, his hand kneading Josh's ass almost instantly. It's squishier than Tyler thought it would be. This makes him want to bend him over to assault his cheeks.
Tyler gulps as Josh pushes his ass into Tyler's hand. A solid smirk follows. Jenna whimpers again, making Tyler sigh.
"Even when you have two of us you're still gonna whine?" Tyler jokes, his hand never leaving Josh's ass. He slips a finger into Josh's crevice, making him jump slightly. Jenna smirks at this and watches comfortably despite the harsh aching in her pussy.
"Like you said, I'm desperate," Jenna smiles.
Tyler looks to Josh, his fingers finally pressing against Josh's anus. Josh gulps, locking eye contact with his best friend.
"What should we do with her?" Tyler sighs, his cock jumping when Josh moans suddenly, loudly, surprising both himself and Jenna. Josh's head falls back as he desperately pushes himself against Tyler's hand. Tyler grins.
Josh's eyes suddenly fly open, looking at the two best people staring at him in surprise and complete want. His cheeks flare up, bright red.
"I'll take that as a yes to letting me inside you?" Tyler asks, his cock pulling at his sweatpants and almost threatening to poke out from the waistband.
When Tyler looks down, Josh's eyes follow.
"You can let her fuck your tongue and fingers," Tyler guides him, tracing a singular finger up Jenna's still soaking pussy. Jenna jumps, bucking up to try and slip his fingers inside. Tyler scolds her, raising his hand and slapping her pussy harshly.
She yelps, a messy moan tumbling from her mouth deliciously. Tyler wipes the wetness from her pussy on her own leg, looking over at Josh who looks hungrier than ever.
"If you let me play with your ass," Tyler adds, forcing Josh to nod instantly, "what did I say about using your words?" Tyler asks lightheartedly, caressing Josh's backside.
"Okay," Josh nods. Tyler raises an eyebrow.
"You've barely said a word Jish?" Tyler grabs Josh's waist, pulling them close. Tyler's cock rubs abrasively against Josh's hipbone. He struggles to keep his moaning to himself.
Josh wants to hear him.
"Wanna hear you Ty," Josh says, looking down and pulling Tyler's waistband. Tyler cock jumps out, making Josh laugh lightly, "excited?" Josh teases. |
2b75b42582fc424ba019182008d30bbb | ['e511763a5d0042edbc3fd8fd98e34023'] |
fall fashion, mental breakdowns & other agreste-induced forms of general catastrophe: a guide
**Author's Note:**
> alright kiddos so right off the bat let me tell you: this fic is a mess. and actual disaster to the point i'm sure chat noir himself would be proud. now, is it a beautiful disaster? maybe. yeah. let's go with that. optimism is the fruit of immortality or some other bs to that general effect, you get the point so lets run with that one.
>
> anyways, this fic started out as a /drabble/ that i wrote like a century and a half ago and was somehow magically convinced to finish by @mahalicious, @asterbells, and besh ((new-life-means-new-chances.tumblr)), so if you're reading and suddenly go "huh, this fic really switches track" just know that this was a 2 page long thing that became a 20 page 2 /chapter/ long thing so there ya go.
>
> this one goes out to the miraculous trashcan, bless you all.
* * *
“Chat Noir! I swear to every god that has ever existed if you don’t get your stupid butt over here right this instant I am having a security system installed _tomorrow_!”
Muffled laughter rings through the empty hallway and Marinette is outright _furious_. Damn that cat. Damn every cat ever! Of _all the days_ to prance into her house and steal her TV remote it just _had_ to be the day of Gabriel Agreste’s Fall Fashion Show premiere. Adrien was in it. _Adrien_ ! She _could not_ miss this! She _would not_!
She rounds a corner into her parent’s bedroom and thanks her lucky stars the two are staying over at her aunt’s house tonight— she wasn’t entirely sure she could explain why she was chasing one of Paris’s famous superheroes through their house like a woman on the warpath.
“I know you’re in here!” Marinette glares around at the furniture, “Cough it up, Chat, if I miss this show because of you, I’ll be personally escorting your ass into the Seine!”
“Princess! Language.” A cocky snicker fills the room, and Marinette whips her head towards the sound— only to find Chat himself sprawled out on their lounge with that stupid shit-eating cheshire grin of his plastered across his face. He twirls the remote effortlessly in his hand and looks _all_ too pleased with himself for someone who basically just broke into her house.
“Give it here.” Marinette beckons, wriggling her outstretched fingers. Chat _purrs_.
“Now where’s the fun in that? I thought we agreed you’d have to catch me first.”
“I agreed to no such thing! You’re the one who broke into my house!” Marinette counters and Chat scowls.
“ ‘Broke in’ is such a harsh term, ‘dropped by for a visit’ sounds so much better.”
“No,” Marinette huffs, creeping closer, “When _normal_ people ‘ drop by for a visit ’ , they use the _door_ , not my freaking skylight!”
Chat shrugs and Marinette swears she’s never seen his grin bigger, “Got me there.”
_Now!_
Marinette launches herself at the TV remote and Chat’s eyes widen a second too late as he attempts to scramble out of the way— Marinette plows into him and sends them both tumbling to the floor in a frenzy of tangled limbs and strangled yelps.
But Marinette is a woman on a mission, and while Chat is still trying to figure out how he somehow ended up pinned underneath her, Marinette is already making a grab for the TV remote that he had dropped in the fray.
Chat recovers in the nick of time.
With a snicker he rolls her under him and succeeds in thwarting Marinette’s plans to snag the remote on the offense, much to her absolute infuriation.
“Chat Noir, you will allow me to retrieve that remote _right this instant_ or I swear I’ll — . ” Her breath catches in her throat in a kind of horrible instantaneous revelation that sends her heart rate skyrocketing into overdrive because: _oh shit this is sort of a compromising position why is my heart suddenly beating so fast shit shit shit since when did he get that close oh_ **_fuck_ **
“Swear you’ll what, _Princess_?” Chat hums, sounding like honey and danger and a thousand and one warning bells going off in her head. Marinette all but dissolves as she desperately tries to string her thoughts together again.
“I’ll— I’ll um, ” _Get it together! Letters + brain = words, Marinette!_
“Yes?” He practically whispers, deep green eyes calculating, assessing, _smoldering_.
She shivers under the weight of his gaze.
_This is bad bad bad bad_ _—_ He finds himself drawing closer and her pulse leaps, traitorous heartbeat thudding in her ears because; what the hell is it exactly she wants him to do? What does _she_ want to do?
_What would Ladybug do?_
Moot point, she argues, Ladybug would not _be_ in this situation because she actually had braincells and her priorities straight.
“Hello? Earth to Marinette? You still in there?”
Chat’s voice breaks through the roaring in her ears and suddenly the world slams back down into proportion around her again. Air rushes back into her lungs and for some reason Chat doesn’t seem quite as close, so utterly _encompassing_ , as he was before.
Marinette is still trying to get the gears in her head to start turning when she realizes he’s probably waiting for an answer.
“I’m fine!” She screeches indignantly, trying desperately to ignore the fact her mind had just wondered places it was _most definitely not_ supposed to be wondering, or visiting, or even be considering vacationing for a long weekend because, um, _hello_ this was **_Chat_ **??
_Oh my god I can'_ _t believe that just happened._
Her face burns and Chat’s eyes are suddenly the size of dinnerplates as she desperately scrambles sideways out from under him, looking for something, _anything_ , to stop her traitorous mind from replaying the last ten seconds over and over again. | 791111a8ebb14a5f884de4c317eb70d1 | ['e511763a5d0042edbc3fd8fd98e34023'] | His hands stay steady on her shoulders as she makes out that infamous cheshire grin of his in the lowlight, and suddenly she’s not sure if she should thank him for keeping her upright or straight up punch him in the face instead. Maybe both.
“You called me Adrien.” He beams, looking all too pleased for someone Marinette is still lowkey considering throwing off a roof.
“I swear to god I’m going to punch you.”
He barks out a laugh and the pure velocity of his smile is starting to make her head spin, “Glad to have you back with us among the living, Marinette. I was scared you’d left us for Jupiter or something there for a while.”
She kicks his shin.
“Ow!” He scowls, shuffling to balance on his good leg, “What was _that_ for?”
“My sanity.” She grits out, praying that Chat’s nightvision didn’t encompass being able to see the flush of red in her face.
Without warning she sees Chat’s eyes widen and momentarily flick to the cracks of light in the doorframe.
“Hey, do you trust me?” He whispers out of nowhere, his face suddenly all too close to her own.
“What?” She shifts uncomfortably, startled by the underlying seriousness in his tone.
“After all this,” He breathes, the distance between them now nearly nonexistant, “Do you still trust me?”
“Always.” Her answer is instantaneous, tone so sure and determined that Chat is positive his heart is going to backflip right out of his ribcage for her. Marinette smiles in the darkness and raises her hand to rest on his jawbone, and he all but dissipates beneath her touch, “Chat Noir, Adrien Agreste. _You_ , I will trust with my life until it ends.”
Wordlessly, Chat dips and presses his forehead against her own, Marinette hisses in a breath.
“Good,” He mutters, and she gets the instinctual feeling he wants to say more, “Because after this, you, uh, sort of may or may not ever want to talk to me again.”
“Chat?” She pulls back a fraction of an inch, just in time to see a wicked grin break out across her partner’s face.
“You said you trust me, right?” He repeats, and suddenly Marinette has the sinking feeling that something is about to go terribly, horribly wrong. Again.
“Yes.” She answers anyways, because it’s true, and his eyes practically twinkle at her in excitement.
“De-transform. Quick.”
She blinks once. Twice.
“What.” She deadpans, and she instantly goes back to weighing the pros and cons of socking him in the face. Chat’s grin only grows.
“ _Trust_ me.”
And she does. Unfortunately.
She lets her transformation slip away, fading out in a brilliant array of mystical colors and translucent undertones until Ladybug falls dormant and leaves just _Marinette_ to stare up at the shimmering green eyes of her partner.
Except it’s no longer Chat she’s looking at.
Adrien beams down at her from where Chat once stood, eyes wide and dancing with an unspoken anticipation for something Marinette couldn’t even begin to try and understand.
It takes every fiber of her being not to scream again.
“Get ready.” Adrien grins, and the sinking feeling in her stomach instantly triples.
“For what?” She’s almost afraid to ask.
“For this.”
Marinette’s face contorts in confusion and she’s just about to let Adrien and his half-rate riddles have a piece of her mind when fate decides that apparently, her day just hasn't been enough of a disaster yet.
The closet door swings open. Adrien grins like a madman, Marinette resolves right then and there to drop kick him into the Seine, and, predictably, her entire day takes a turn for the worst.
Again.
**Author's Note:**
> don't you love it when the entire actual rest of the real plot doesn't even fit in the first chapter wow gotta love that mmhmm yep |
e0bf840260e84eff9233227ccf12ed86 | ['e5221350b08c4d8580dd47b235588cca'] |
Priorities
**Author's Note:**
> This has probably been done many times before.
>
> This is set in some universe where S19 either never happened or hadn’t happened yet. So there’s no mention of JP. Sorry. I can only deal with one rumored Val GF at a time.
Val sighs, grits his teeth, and rubs a hand over his face. “Babe. What—what are you doing?”
Jenna drags her black duffel bag out of the closet and heaves it onto the bed with a grunt. She leans heavily against it and turns back toward him, lancing him with eye daggers.
“What do you think?”
“Didn’t we talk about this? I thought this was settled,” he says, letting his iPhone drop from his hands onto the stripped-down bed.
“It’s never gonna be settled, Val,” she says, turning and heading back over to the closet. She starts yanking her dresses off the hangers and brings them over to the bag on the end of the bed. “She’s always gonna come first.”
“ _Who_? Who are you even talking about?” Val yells, waving his hands at her in exasperation.
Jenna just stares back at him, eyebrows arched, looking very unimpressed. “Don’t pull this shit with me,” she snaps, pulling her mouth into a sneer. She jabs a finger in his direction. “You know damn well who I’m talking about. Just _check your Insta._ ”
Val blinks, fights the urge to dive for his iPhone to actually _check his Insta_. “Zendaya? This is about _Zendaya_?”
“The hero finally catches on,” Jenna says, voice dripping with sarcasm. She turns her attention back to her duffel bag.
“I thought you were just pissed I haven’t been spending that much time with you,” Val says, feeling lost. He flounders. “Babe, you know I’ve been busy—”
“Well, that too, but seriously, Val. Come on. I’m not blind,” Jenna says, stamping her feet and practically growling in frustration. “You just don’t _get_ it. It’s always ‘Z this, Z that.’ How’s that supposed to make _me_ feel?”
“Zendaya and I are friends, Jenna. You know that, you were _totally cool_ with that. Didn’t bother you one bit, you said,” Val accuses, flinging her words back at her.
“Don’t you dare use what I said against me,” Jenna says, crossing her arms over her chest. “That was before I realized how—how weirdly close you two are.”
“There is nothing weird about our relationship.” Val closes his eyes and rips his hands through his hair. “She’s a part of my life. You knew that going in.”
“You text each other every day,” Jenna says, ticking off all of Val’s apparent failures as a boyfriend on her fingers. “You have to wedge her into every single convo you have. She practically sends you half-naked selfies for your approval—”
“You clearly know nothing about Zendaya or you’d know she’d never do that,” Val interrupts.
“You have fucking Skype dates with her, for fuck’s sake,” Jenna continues, lowering her hands. “Please tell me how I’m supposed to compete with that. I’m here, I live with you, and I don’t even see you as much as she does.”
“I get it. I really do. But it’s not like that,” Val insists, throwing his hands out to Jenna. “What do I gotta do to convince you you’re the only one I got eyes for?”
Jenna glances briefly at her duffel bag, sitting on the end of the bed, before looking back at Val.
“Take a step back,” she says, crossing her arms back over her chest. “Tell her you’ve got other things going on, you can’t be in her life twenty-four-seven like you used to.”
“You want me to ditch her,” Val concludes, refusing to allow his voice to betray his emotions.
“I want you to re-prioritize,” Jenna says, sounding almost sympathetic. “You don’t have to cut her off completely. She just can’t be the most important woman in your life.”
“My mom’s the most important woman in my life,” Val deadpans.
“You know what I mean,” Jenna sighs, rolling her eyes at him and shaking her head.
“Look, I come in peace,” Val says, holding his hands out to Jenna as he approaches her. “I do love you. I thought I was doing a pretty good job of showing that, but I guess not. But you’re right. I gotta get my shit together.”
Jenna wraps her arms around his waist. “So you’ll try? For me?”
“Screw that,” Val says, pressing his mouth against her forehead. “I’ll do. You’re my number one, babe.”
Jenna tips her head up, kissing him gently on the lips. “Then show me.”
Val returns the kiss, tightens his arms around Jenna, and only feels a little bit guilty that he’s lying to her.
-
Val retrieves his phone and fires off a text to Zendaya while Jenna is in the bathroom, putting her makeup and toothbrush back in place in the medicine cabinet.
_Hey babe, we gotta talk. It’s important. Call me when you get this._
He sighs, guilt unraveling in his gut, taps **SEND** , and sets his phone back on the nightstand beside the bed.
Jenna emerges from the bathroom and brushes her hands off on her jeans. “So, I think that’s everything,” she says, smiling at him.
“All moved back in?” Val pats the empty spot next to him.
“Yep.” Jenna crawls onto the mattress and slots in against his side.
Jenna presses her head against his shoulder and Val reaches up to stroke her dark hair.
“We’re gonna make this work,” Val tells her, stilling his hand.
Just then, his phone starts blasting ‘Bottle You Up’ and Val nearly jumps out of his skin. He grabs the phone and thumbs the volume down, stealing a guilty glance Jenna’s way. She’s looking at him, feline eyes flickering with what he thinks is jealousy.
“Is it _her_?” Jenna’s tone is icy.
“Probably. I need to have this conversation with her, Jenna,” he says. | b319c50c1c7d4ef4b77a92c57735f026 | ['e5221350b08c4d8580dd47b235588cca'] | Stolen Moments
**Author's Note:**
> I decided to empty out my unfinished writing folder.
The door to Val’s trailer banged shut behind them and Zendaya dropped her clutch on a small wooden end table. She reached up—with a tired but content sigh—and unscrewed her diamond earrings, letting them drop into her palm. After securing her earrings in her clutch, Zendaya kicked off her heels and wriggled her toes, burying them in the trailer’s soft, plush carpet.
It had been a long day, but it was well worth it.
Zendaya hadn’t been that interested in coming back to perform on _Dancing With the Stars_ , but the producers had all but begged her. She hadn’t budged until the producers had dispatched Val himself to shamelessly beg her in person after a long day of shooting for _KC Undercover_.
Her guard had been down, he’d gotten her at a vulnerable moment. At least, that’s what she told herself.
Zendaya had signed her “contract” on a napkin at In-N-Out in permanent marker and then put it up on Instagram, just so they’d have it in writing.
She didn’t regret caving in and agreeing to perform one of her songs, though, not for a moment.
Of course, she wasn’t doing it because she had any fond feelings for the producers of _Dancing With the Stars_ , but none of them had to know that, did they?
Val slipped in behind her and slid the straps of her silk gown off her shoulders. His fingers were warm, practiced against her bare skin.
She felt his lips brush against the curve of her shoulder, as one hand went to draw down the zipper of her dress.
“You were amazing out there tonight, babe,” Val murmured. He pushed her hair over one of her shoulders and moved his lips to the back of her neck.
Zendaya shivered as his hot breath spilled across her sensitive skin. “Hi.”
She closed her eyes, allowed herself to get lost in the warmth that suffused her as his lips found more exposed skin. The silk gown that had been loaned to Zendaya just for her performance fell to her feet in a careless, lavender puddle of expensive material.
“Hey.” Val pressed a gentle kiss behind her ear.
“You owe me. Big time,” she said, laughing softly. Val’s short, stubbly beard scraped against her skin and she squirmed back against his chest.
“Oh? And why’s that?” Val wrapped an arm around her waist and buried his nose in her hair.
“You know why,” she said, turning her head, glancing over her shoulder at him. “You begged me. You know I can’t turn you down when you beg.”
“I didn’t _beg_.” Val had the audacity to sound offended.
“You did. But it’s okay. I still like you.” Zendaya turned, pressed back against his chest again and wriggled her shoulders. “Help me out of this thing.” She tugged at one of her lacy bra straps.
“As you wish.”
Val’s fingers scrabbled at the clasps of her bra for a few seconds before he apparently decided _the hell with it_ and slid his hands around to cup her breasts through the crinkly, lacy material.
“What are you doing, you dork?” Zendaya slid her hands over his.
“I’m not good with hooks and clasps and elastic,” he said. “That takes fine motor skills I most definitely don’t possess.”
“Liar.”
Val pushed the straps off her shoulders and spun her around in his arms, leaning in and nuzzling his nose against her soft cheek for a moment before pressing his lips against hers. Zendaya felt Val’s fingers on her bare back, digging in gently, tugging the bra down over her breasts to her waist.
Val slid his hands over her bared skin, appreciatively, dragging the pads of his thumbs across her pebbled nipples. Zendaya sighed into his mouth and twisted her fingers gently in his short curls, drawing him as close to her as she could. Val’s hands drifted down, found her hips and stilled her against his chest.
He kissed her again, for far too brief a moment, before dropping his head to her bare shoulder. “Baby,” he said.
“Yeah?” Zendaya stroked her hands down his back and under his shirt. |
b3f39357244c433bb08b7352a0a6f8fd | ['e56cb40262bc45158dd795ff6c178ee2'] | Tessellate
**Author's Note:**
> Prompted on tumblr by punk-rock-science! Though this wasn't as explicit as I had originally intended, because I had Grey's Anatomy on in the background while I was writing and Callie and Arizona were being sad so... yeah, that didn't work out.
The whole thing is innocent enough when it starts. You’re just watching TV, some weird show that Cosima begs you to watch, and you lean over to kiss her neck. No big deal, you do that all the time. But this time, something happens. She shivers a little as you move over and grabs your thigh as your lips meet her neck. When you pull back, the look on her face clearly says she was expecting more.
“Okay, I’m confused,” you confess with a shrug. “I thought you were into this show about… what even is this? They’re just plants.”
She sits up straighter and crosses her arms. Fuck, now you’ve done it. “No, Sarah, they are not just plants. They are vital to helping decades of humans actively killing the earth.”
You raise your hands up to signal defeat, a silent apology, and release the breath you were holding when she settles back against the couch. Normally she argues her cause for much longer, sometimes an hour or more, and that was surprisingly easy. She opens her mouth to speak again and you are almost afraid that you jinxed yourself.
“Anyway, I’ve been really excited about watching this. But I’m also really excited about the idea of you fucking me.”
Talk about unexpected. Your eyes widen and you shift a little closer to her, your knee touching her thigh. “Wha-- Cos-- are you serious?”
She laughs in a way that makes you think maybe she’ll explain, make this is all just a joke. And then she’s gently shoving you back against the couch and straddling your lap. “I’m sorry I made you watch this show with me,” she practically purrs as she settles on top of you, her hips pressing firmly against yours.
“I-it’s… okay?” You’re not even sure how to respond to that. If this is your repayment for watching twenty minutes about spores, then you’ll watch whatever she chooses.
She leans down and kisses your neck, over and over again, and starts adding small bites to balance the sweet gesture. You grab her hips, your fingertips digging into the little bit of exposed skin, and hold her there.
“I don’t understand where this is coming from. And that isn’t a complaint, it’s just what I said. Confusion.” It’s pretty lucky that you are holding her still or you’re certain she would pull away.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” she whispers against your ear as her hands slip under your shirt. She slides up until she’s cupping your breasts, thumbs running over your nipples, and you swear that she laughs when you arch into her touch. “I could barely concentrate at work because I couldn’t stop thinking what we would do if we were together.”
You pull her hips down a little harder, already more worked up than you would like to admit. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Especially going down on you. It… god, I just can’t stop thinking about it.”
Try as you might, you can’t help the groan that escapes your lips. “Fuck. Cos, that’s so sexy.”
You aren’t being nearly as articulate as you’d like, but you go ahead and blame that on the fact that she’s pulling her hands out of your shirt and working at the button of your jeans.
“I thought you might think so,” she says with a grin. She makes quick work of the button and manages to slide your jeans almost completely off in one deft movement. It becomes very clear that she isn’t planning on taking her time with this, with you, and it only fuels the fire. She kisses down your torso, lingering at your hips to leave kisses. You’re arching up into her kisses, wishing she would move just a little faster, when she dips her head between your thighs and licks.
“Cosima. Fuck. Cos, oh, fuck,” your mantra leaves your lips as a string of words, a slur of desperate pleas. It’s a good thing she doesn’t feel like teasing you tonight or you would already be a wreck.
She sits up, quickly replacing her mouth with her hand, and you moan at the more intense pressure. “Please come for me,” she half-demands, half-begs between kisses to your hips and stomach. Her voice and touches are enough to push you over the edge. Your hips snap up, chasing her hand, while every muscle in your body tenses.
When you finally calm down, she’s staring at you with a grin, her chin resting on your leg. “Was that okay?”
You nod, barely able to do that, and gesture for her to join you on the couch. “Come up here while I recover.”
“That could be misleading. You want me to come or you want me to relax?” She’s grinning, stupidly proud of her joke but it’s very cute. She moves up and wraps her arms around you, sighing happily that she’s able to hold you.
The two of you stay like that for a few moments, occasionally sharing a light kiss. The situation turns heated, the kisses and touches becoming more desperate. “Actually, I want both of those,” you finally reply, your own grin appearing. “If you lay back, I can pretty easily accomplish both.”
“You seem pretty confident,” she replies as she shifts on the sofa. She starts to say more, obviously amusing herself with her comments, but then your hand is slipping into her pants and her ability to make sounds has completely diminished. | 53162c00f0624f85bf99078c9f4aa6f2 | ['e56cb40262bc45158dd795ff6c178ee2'] |
For Science? Part Two
**Author's Note:**
> I cannot get this pairing out of my head now. Not that I'm complaining!
Cosima’s lost in kissing Sarah when Beth’s voice interrupts. “This is great and all, but I was under the impression that I would get to be a part of this too.”
They break apart, both blushing from the intensity of the kiss and the fact that they were completely ignoring Beth before that moment. Cosima is the first to move over and immediately starts kissing the previously left out clone. It’s light at first, what she normally considers ice breaking kisses because she’s a dork like that, but Beth isn’t having it for long. She locks her hands behind Cosima’s neck, holding her still, and guides the clone to a more passionate kiss. Cosima’s been with her fair share of people but no one has ever kissed her like this. “Jesus, Beth,” she manages as she pulls away for a breath.
Beth just grins and frees her hands to motion for Sarah to join them. “Come on, then. It’s your turn.”
Sarah moves over and placates the cop at first, allowing her to control the situation. It doesn’t last very long, though. She is absolutely used to being the one in charge and the unfamiliarity of this doesn’t change that. Quickly, she pushes Beth against the back of the couch and straddles her lap, keeping her hands on the clone’s shoulders to hold her in place. Cosima stares as Sarah leans down and kisses Beth, not allowing her to touch at all, and fuck, why hasn’t she had a threesome before now?
“Fuck, Sarah,” Beth breathes as they break apart. She manages to get one hand free and brings it to the clone’s hip, fingertips digging in. “I would not have expected this from you.”
“Now I’m being left out,” Cosima interjects. She looks around and finally stands up. “Come on, let’s move this to the bed.”
With a lot of shuffling, they finally make their way to the bed and settle down. It only takes a few moments of calm before they wordlessly decide on a place. Sarah takes her spot on Beth’s lap again, while Cosima settles behind Beth. As the two clones in front of her resume their previous struggle for dominance, she kisses and nips at Beth’s neck, reveling in the way the clone groans and leans her head the opposite way to offer more skin. It only takes a few moments of this and they both want more, so Cosima reach up and cups Beth’s breasts. She arches into one clone’s hands while groaning into the other’s mouth, and this is quickly becoming too much and not enough for everyone involved.
“I need…” Sarah trails off as Beth kisses her deeply, her tongue roughly entering the other woman’s mouth. Cosima moans at the sight and squeezes Beth’s breasts harder, her thumbs circling at already stiff nipples.
Beth breaks the kiss and straightens her back, a sure sign that she has something in mind. “Both of you, lay down,” she orders. Normally, Sarah and Cosima would argue with her about thinking she’s in charge of everything. But they share a look, one that says how badly they need something more, and comply. Side by side, they lay down and smirk up at Beth, who is looking down at them with something akin to hunger in her eyes.
She’s never done this before, at least not with two women at once. She pulls Sarah’s shirt up first and quickly takes a nipple into her mouth, gently biting and sucking, while her free hand slips under Cosima’s top. The two clones moan nearly in unison, arching up into Beth’s hand and mouth just seconds apart, and Beth can’t help the sense of pride she feels.
“Beth,” Cosima very nearly whines, “Please?”
She can’t ignore the heat that flares between her legs at Cosima’s tone and the look on Sarah’s face just makes it worse. “Help me get your pants off.” She’s trying to be sexy and authoritative but a slight giggle escapes her lips at the command. The two laying down join her laughter but their need can’t be suppressed for long. Once they’ve removed the offending garments, Beth refocuses on the task. She settles between Cosima’s legs and immediately nips at her hipbones, enjoying every noise that the clone makes. While she’s teasing Cosima, she keeps her eyes on Sarah and groans at the way the other clone is staring, jealous of the attention she isn’t getting.
“I promise it’ll be worth it, Sarah,” Beth murmurs against Cosima’s thigh. She runs her hand over Sarah’s stomach and teases between her legs, earning a gasp from the previous scorned clone. With a rhythm that honestly surprises her, Beth starts fucking both clones, one with her mouth and the other with her hand. It’s slow and gentle, something they are all experiencing for the first time that night. She’s doing her best to keep the movements evenly matched. As her tongue flattens and drags upward against Cosima’s clit, her fingertip carefully presses against Sarah’s to mimic the same movement.
While they are essentially getting the same treatment, they could not be reacting more differently. Sarah is arching her back and raising her hips to meet each touch, quiet curses leaving her lips. Cosima, however, is laying almost perfectly still, her lips set in a firm line, while her hand is tangled in Beth’s hair and holding her exactly where she wants her. Beth isn’t sure how long she can keep this up when suddenly, Cosima tenses and tightens her grip in the clone’s hair. Her hips lift off of the mattress and she moans as she falls apart, riding out everything Beth is giving her.
Once Cosima releasing her grip, Beth pulls back and sits up, shifting her focus to Sarah. She gives Cosima a light kiss and a smile before moving other to the other clone. With a grin, she bends down and feverishly kisses Sarah, moaning at the way Cosima tastes against the other woman’s mouth. Slowly, she enters Sarah with one finger and lets her adjust before adding a second. Her movements are calculated and she can tell that it isn’t going to take much more for the clone to come undone.
“Sarah, you are so sexy right now,” Beth whispers and starts to move her fingers faster. “I’m so wet just from watching you.”
Without warning, Cosima is shifting closer and reaches out to tweak Sarah’s nipples. “Come for us, babe,” she adds with a smirk, twisting just a little bit harder.
That’s all it takes and Sarah is biting her lip, her hips chasing Beth’s every move, before she collaspes against the bed. She clutches at the sheets and Cosima is right there to take her hand, offering soothing strokes with her thumb as the clone calms down.
“Jesus christ,” Sarah says after a moment, her eyes still tightly closed. “Where the hell did you learn to do that?”
Beth shrugs and places a kiss just above Sarah’s navel. They wait for her to offer more of an explanation but she’s silent, so Sarah and Cosima share a grin. “Well, now we get to return the favor,” Sarah says hoarsely. She pushes herself up and leans back on her elbows, the smirk never leaving her face.
“Yeah, so lay down,” Cosima mock-orders, doing her best Beth impression. “Two against one. There’s no way you’re ready for this, Childs.” |
3e37e8f9bf6e43eba4d7feed8a047045 | ['e5795e0ecbb64e38bff0ce592401cfd8'] |
1. Who knew?
**Author's Note:**
> I am so sorry. This might be extremely off, but I really like a John that's both straight forward and shy. It's my personal headcannon, please forgive me if it's not what you imagine.
Karkat Vantas was an honest troll, sure his honesty was explosive, but it was there. Most of the time.
-
Your name is John Egbert and you are staring at you kinda best friend in the most puzzled manner. He just told you he wanted something you weren't sure you could give. Sharing a bed with him instead of sleeping on the floor was a bit much, but he seemed so flustered just trying to ask. His face turning a shade that betrays his “secret” blood color. You wet your mouth and raise a brow at him, almost choking on your own voice.
“What?” He looks away and surprisingly, its almost cute.
“Will you share a goddamn bed with me? The floor doesn't look comfortable enough for your wriggler body.” You keep staring at him, hoping you heard right, Karkat assuring this by making room on the mattress. You nod and grab your pillow, climbing onto his bed. He moves right next to the wall, like you're diseased and he doesn't want to catch whatever you have. With a sigh you go to remove yourself from the situation.
“If you weren't comfortable with it you should have said so....”
He practically lunges at you, grabbing your wrist. “No, John, please I want you to stay dammit.” He's not looking at you; of course he isn't. Karkat Vantas doesn't just look at people. He pulls you back and suddenly you're looking down at a gray face consumed in red. “F-fuck...” It's like he took the word right out of your mouth. God his face is darkening, almost at a crimson. Suddenly you can't help yourself, admitting that; 'yeah Karkat Vantas is cute.' Your mouth is against his in a moment, too many emotions running over you.
-
Your name is Karkat Vantas and your best friend is kissing you. When did you even get to redrom? What if this wasn't a red kiss? Dammit was this pale?! It's too weak to be black... Why are you even thinking? Kiss him back, quick. You aren't fast enough and he's off of you in a moment, babbling about how he's sorry and how he doesn't know why he did it. Going on and on about how he's not a homosexual and that he won't do it again.
“John...” He just keeps going, he's still on top of you but he won't shut up. “John I swear to god.” Yet another protest against homosexuality. “John! I will shove a fucking cake down your throat!” A low growl emits itself from the back of your throat, and then he shuts up, staring down at you; obviously startled.
“What?” You don't answer him, you just tug him down until your mouths smash together. You don't even care what quadrant this falls under, you just want him. More than you wanted Terezi, more than you hated Sollux, more than you craved Gamzee's sopor filled sloppy makeouts. You wanted this idiotic human in all three of your non-platonic quadrants. You nipped his lips and chirped lowly as he surprisingly took control and snaked his tongue into your mouth.
-
He's there under you, making the cutest sounds as you rule over his mouth, his hands scrambling for something to grab. Clawed fingers seem to choose your hair, tangling in your dark locks, tugging and pulling in only an urging manner. You can sense his tension slipping away, one of your hands resting on his hip as the other rests by his head. Karkat slowly begins to unwind just from your mouth on his, tongues practically dancing in his mouth. Who knew homoerotic things would be so great? Rose never told you how enjoyable it would actually be.
You just heard a keen, a distinct keen, and holy shit was that hot. Craving more noises you gripped his hip and move your hand by his head into his hair, your fingers brushing against where his horn connects to flesh. His heartbeat pulses through it, which you didn't suspect to happened, but they seemed awfully sensitive like that. A soft moan flew into your mouth, and you greedily swallow it just as purrs erupt from his chest. You groan at the sound, your shorts suddenly becoming too tight. Your hand on his hip instinctly goes to your pants, trying to get them undone, but Karkat is too fast and sits up, never breaking apart from your mouth. Suddenly he has pushed against the wall.
He finally releases your lips and begins to trail down your jawline, nipping at your skin lightly as he goes, His mouth is pressed against the crook of your neck and your doing such a great job at being a panting mess. He bites down without warning, just to suck at the skin tenderly afterwards; as if marking you. His hands are quick to find the button of your pants, undoing it easily. Karkat's hand dips into your pants quickly and then slows down, as if confused. Was something wrong? Wait, didn't Rose say that troll anatomy was different? Does he not like what you have to offer? You tense up, worried that this will end.
Karkat surprises you though; obviously not knowing what he should do, but still willing to try. He palms at your aching erection; slowly at first but begins to do so faster as you let out a few breathy moans, and then buck into his hand, his claws accidentally grazing past comfort. A breath leaking past your teeth at the sensation.
Suddenly the door opens and you pause, worried. Karkat doesn't seem to hear it past his purring though, that is. . . . until the lispy sound of a bicolored spectacle sounded. | 495a6aa8ddf444ffb16b44eb1aab23af | ['e5795e0ecbb64e38bff0ce592401cfd8'] |
1. Chapter 1
Your name is John Egbert and you're walking down the hallway, moving your hair out of your eyes, slightly frustrated. Karkat always threw a fit, but you never expected him to fly off the handle. All you did was kiss him around Dave and Gamzee, which were an odd match to begin with, and Karkat flipped. It wasn't the first time you've kissed him, it certainly wasn't the first time in front of Gamzee either. It WAS the first time in front of Dave though. You just didn't like the looks he was giving YOUR boyfriend. It's not like you did something wrong by expressing that the shorter boy was yours.
Karkat seemed to find it wrong though. Yelling not to do such things in front of Dave, and you wonder when he even started calling him by his first name. His ruthless yelling and ability to rant pisses you off beyond words and you just huff, not being able to say anything when he's like this. He just keeps yelling, using his arms as an outlet to express heavier words. Only with picking up on a few words you catch 'indecency.... kiss.... Dave.... fucking asshole!... I can't stand you.... best bro..... idiot..... like.... Dave.....' You put all these words together and get something like 'Have the indecency to kiss me in front of Dave, you fucking asshole! I can't stand you, he's your best bro. You're an idiot. I like Dave.' Okay so, maybe you got it wrong but that last sentence causes your jaw to clench and you grind your teeth, mentally ignoring your father's voice saying not to do that in your head.
You practically snap at him, not able to hold back your jealousy. "If you like Dave so much why don't you marry him!" You storm off, not willing to hear his excuses. Really, you hate that Dave started talking to Karkat. He's supposed to leave your boyfriend alone. He can't go being mad about you denying being gay, and when you finally have a boyfriend befriend him! Karkat is your boyfriend and Dave is your best bro, but you don't want them being friends. Not when you know Dave is gay. Not when you know he's been known as a player. You don't want Karkat to fall into his hands, but here you are, pretty much telling him to leave you for him.
\--
You're so fucking stupid. Karkat won't talk to you, and Gamzee just glares at you from across the classroom. It's just your luck that you'd have every class with him. Karkat though, you only have two classes together, and then Dave matches his schedule perfectly. You mentally sling some curses at yourself and bite your lip. What if they actually get together? No, Karkat wouldn't. You guys didn't break up. He'd never go with Dave now, you're sure of it.
You go through the whole day without talking to Karkat and its driving you insane. He always talks; so just hearing him whisper to Gamzee is infuriating. This whole situation is bugging you. Papers are handed out and Dave smiles -actually fucking smiles, the kid without a single chip in his stoic behavior- down at Karkat, saying something too low for you to hear. A low grunt escapes Karkat and you KNOW that everything will be okay. Karkat only makes that noise when disgusted. You've heard him make it towards that guy Eridan before.
No though, everything is not okay. He partnered up with Dave and Gamzee refused to go near you, so you're down a partner for a class paper and the teacher doesn't care. You sit alone and do your work, biting on your pencil because you surely don't know what you're doing, and you're becoming nervous with how fast time is going. It's like Karkat and Dave are magically buddy buddy and you chew on your pencil some more. You don't like this at all.
Then though, just THEN Dave's hand interlocks with Karkat's and you see him return the gesture. Oh my fucking god you can hear your final straw snapping. You mentally apologize for swearing to god, because you're supposed to be the good guy and try to ignore them. Their hands stay together though and you can just about hear the happy sounds Karkat is making from across the room. He does some weird content purring thing humans shouldn't be able to do, but he does it. And it's just enough to--
Oh and look at that. You're on your feet and your chair is knocked over and you're just glaring at Dave. You are so damn pissed right now and you're barely registering the teacher until you're told to go to the office. Well, that's new. You just pack your stuff and sling it onto your back, leaving your paper where it is. As you walk down the hall you see blonde hair in the corner of your eye and you turn, thinking it's Dave and preparing to cuss him out. But wait no, its Karkat and his height should have told you so. Wow you are the best boyfriend, the best boyfriend is you John. |
8c12775c80604bdbbfbdee3f0f0c04fd | ['e57c0febf16c4367b1a26f554cb3466c'] | Al's hand moved down from James's stomach to his groin and then James realised he was already hard. Albus's arm squeezed James's prick and James snapped his neck back to look at Al. Even through the darkness, he was sure he could tell if Albus was awake.
"What are you doing, Al?"
"Jaime..." Al mouthed the words more than he said them. "You feel it, too."
_Too_?
"What do you mean—"
"At the waterfall, when you held me. I felt you press against me, Jaime," Al said. He hadn't let go of James's cock and now he was pressing close to James's arse, harder. "I want you, Jaime. I've wanted you for so long, I can't—"
"It's wrong," James said. It was the first words that came to his mind. It was always what he'd told himself.
"It's not," Al said. He let go of James's erection and then grabbed James by the shoulder, turning James so he could face him. "Maybe it's wrong by society's standards or whatever... but I know how I feel. I know what I feel is something I _can't_ deny."
James wanted so hard to protest but he couldn't think of anything to say. Everything he'd say, he knew Albus would have an argument for it. He also couldn't believe what he felt wasn't something completely insane. That Albus wanted him too. It _was_ insane.
"I don't—" James couldn't finish his thought because before he knew it, Albus's mouth was on his and his brother was kissing him needily. He pushed his lips against James's and he shoved his tongue into James's mouth without hesitation. James sucked on Al's tongue as he managed to wrap his arm around Albus's body before his hand reached up to rake through Albus's hair.
When they broke apart, panting, Albus didn't sound like he was done.
"Touch me, Jaime. _Please_."
Al's hand sneaked down and James felt him taking his shorts off. When James didn't follow suit, Albus hooked two fingers under the elastic of James's pants and pulled them down for him. He pressed his hips against James's and as their cocks brushed together, James couldn't help but release the guttural groan he'd been hiding at the back of his throat.
"Oh my _God_ , Al."
James reached in-between them and started to stroke both their erections together. Albus returned his attention to James's lips and began kissing him again.
Albus moaned into James's mouth and James knew he wouldn't last very long. Al felt like he was right there with James. He bucked into James's hand and he reached down as well, starting to stroke James matching their rhythm.
"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah..." Al moaned, burying his face in the crook of James's shoulder before he started to nip and bite on the skin.
Much to James's surprise, Albus came first. He spilled hot liquid all over James's hand as he arched his back and hastily jerked his hips. When he was done, he let go of James's cock again and slid down.
James gasped with surprise when Albus took James in his mouth. He guided James's hips so he would settle on his back and then Al started to suck and swirl his tongue around and do all sorts of hot things with his mouth James didn't know his brother was capable of.
"Al, I'm gon—" James's warning didn't come soon enough as he started to climax. He thought his brother would pull away at the last minute and finish him off with his hand but Al continued to suck and lick until James had spilled the last drop.
When James's limp cock slid out of Albus's mouth, James released one final groan of satisfaction. Albus climbed up on top of him and James pulled his brother into a big hug. He wanted to talk to Al, tell him how he felt, discuss what was going on with them, but he was too tired and if Albus's deep even breaths were anything to go by, he knew Al wouldn't be much up for talking at the moment.
James pulled the sleeping bag cover over the two of them again, and they fell asleep in their sticky mess.
-
James woke up first. Albus was on his side, his back facing James and James realised he was still sticky from the night before. He grabbed his wand and placed a cleaning spell on himself and one on Al.
Albus stirred slightly as if he felt the warmth of the spell over his body. Then he turned to face James.
"Are you upset with me?" Al asked.
"Upset with you?" James asked in surprise.
"I'm sorry, Jaime."
"Why are you sorry? I'm the one—"
"I made you... last night."
"Al, you didn't _make_ me do anything I didn't want to do."
"You mean that?" Al's big green eyes looked at him and James felt his whole world shatter and become complete again.
"I mean it, Al. I wanted you for so long. I didn't know what to do. I'd die for you or kill for you or do whatever you ever wanted me to do. The past year, we've just been fighting so much and I don't know...I don't know why that was happening but it was breaking my heart. I don't ever want you to be angry at me like that. I thought you hated me. I thought you found out how I felt about you and you _hated_ me—"
"I could never hate you, Jaime," Al said and then reached for James's hand. He placed James's hand on his chest before he spoke again. "I'd die for you too."
"Then...why were you so..."
"I thought...I mean... I don't know." Al looked annoyed, angry, disappointed...James couldn't tell.
"Whatever it is, you can tell me," James said, hoping to sound reassuring.
"I thought you and Teddy were fucking and I just lost it." | 04e522cfc8664288a98696bfda2a25b8 | ['e57c0febf16c4367b1a26f554cb3466c'] | "You okay?" Merlin asked when Arthur wrapped his arm around Merlin and pulled him close.
"Yeah," Arthur breathed as he nuzzled into the dip of Merlin's neck. His skin was just as smooth as Arthur had remembered it.
Merlin pushed back into Arthur, his arse _teasing_ Arthur's groin, before he locked their legs together. Arthur didn't know how he should have responded. Before, back when they were just casually fucking, he would have rubbed up against Merlin. Snaked his hand under Merlin's shirt and pinched his nipple.
What if he did that now? Did Merlin want that...is that why he was teasing Arthur?
"I can hear you thinking," Merlin said as he turned around and faced Arthur. "Your thoughts are practically screaming themselves out of your head."
Arthur immediately missed how their legs weren't twined any more. "Yeah?"
"I thought you wanted me?"
"You have no idea how much, but, I just want you to be sure. I--I'm just nervous, is all."
"Nervous?" Merlin asked, his voice squeaking slightly. "Why on earth are you nervous. You're here in my bed and I'm--"
Arthur kissed Merlin then. They hadn't kissed since Arthur had arrived in Canada. Merlin was talking about them having sex or something to that effect, for the first time in years. He was willing to give Arthur everything, for the night, at least, and all Arthur had wanted to do was just kiss him. Hold him.
Know that Merlin was his.
Merlin kissed back slowly. Arthur could tell that he was hesitant at first, but eventually, he opened up. He parted his lips as Arthur's tongue swirled around and gently sucked on it--with Merlin moaning slightly. The little whimpers he used to do that Arthur remembered so well.
They shifted closer together and Arthur wrapped his leg around Merlin, holding him tight. Merlin's hands went up Arthur's shirt, around his waist and then up his back. His nails dug into Arthur's skin and Arthur smiled slightly. He knew exactly what Merlin was doing. What he was asking.
When they used to have sex in the past, Arthur never allowed Merlin to leave his mark on Arthur. Merlin was a fighter in bed, a biter, and Arthur always told him to stop before it got too far. At that time, Arthur was being and had been unfaithful to Gwen, and if she'd see the scratch marks on Arthur's skin--she'd know.
Now, there was no Gwen. There was no one. If Merlin wanted to leave his mark on him, Arthur didn't mind. He was Merlin's and only Merlin's.
If anything, this was just another reminder of how fucked up Arthur was, and how good it felt to be with Merlin.
"At the risk of sounding like a girl, Merlin...I just want to know if you're using me. I want you; want you so damn much, but I don't know if I can survive having you and then finding out that you only wanted me for this moment. If you turn away from me tomorrow--"
Merlin released his hold on Arthur and pulled back slightly. It wasn't withdrawal, though, Arthur quickly learned. Merlin started to rake his fingers through Arthur's hair and he was simply staring at Arthur, smiling.
"I could never do that. Not to you," Merlin said; his tone was sorrowful. No doubt, he was thinking about Will.
Arthur kissed Merlin again to get his mind to be on the present. He didn't want to lose this moment, didn't want to lose Merlin to Will. "I don't have any lube, or condoms," Arthur said. He hadn't thought that they'd get this far. He was figuring that there'd be a lot more grovelling and begging to do. Not that this was a complaint though. Perhaps he didn't pack condoms because he didn't want to jinx himself.
"I have some," Merlin said, turning around. A moment later, he was gone from the bed and Arthur missed his presence immediately. Maybe he should have just sucked Merlin off. At least that way, he'd still be in bed with Arthur.
When Merlin returned, Arthur immediately pulled him down and got on top of him. "Let's get to those later," he said and almost ripped Merlin's shirt off. "Right now, I just want to kiss every part of your body, every patch of your skin that I've missed all these years."
13. Chancing It
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Arthur wakes up in bed alone. Also: Sneaky Arthur is sneaky.
Arthur woke up in bed alone. He turned to his side to look at the hotel clock and found the small jar of lube, and the unopened condoms. They hadn't ended up using them after all.
It felt good to be with Merlin the night before. They'd not done more than kissing for the first half hour, and then Arthur made Merlin come with his hands. Merlin's arched up so beautifully and he'd gasped Arthur's name as he spilled himself all over Arthur's hand before they'd fallen asleep again.
Arthur was still hard from his encounter with Merlin a few hours ago, and the memory of what'd happened.
Now, at nine o'clock, his heart sank just a bit. He felt stranded. Why didn't Merlin wake him before leaving the room? Surely, he went to see Will, but he could have told--he probably didn't want to wake Arthur. Probably wanted to have breakfast alone with his friend.
Arthur needed to get his head out of his arse. He was here for Merlin and was so very very close to getting his man. Now, it was his job to finally try to be on Will's good side. Again.
It wasn't a competition, and he needed to make sure of that. He couldn't mope about, feel bad for himself, or let his vulnerabilities show. He needed to be strong for Merlin. Be Merlin's friend as Merlin was trying to console Will. |
89888ebd93974c0f9f1c532796681944 | ['e57f0190070d4c9aa0dd1ab675ff373d'] | “You're an orphan. Of course, I'm an orphan! God, I wish there was a war! Then we could prove that we're worth more than anyone bargained for.
Shiro stopped the boy “Can I buy you a drink?”
Keith’s stomach growled. “That would be nice.”
Shiro and Keith walked into the bar. “While we’re talking, let me offer you some free advice”
“Talk less” Shiro started.
Keith now looked at Shiro like he was crazy “What?”
Shiro continued.
“Smile more”
Keith let out a little laugh
Shiro kept going
“Don't let them know what you're against or what you're for”
Keith looked at Shiro and deadpanned. “You can't be serious.”
Shiro looked at him with amusement. “You want to get ahead?”
“Yes” Keith said.
“Fools who run their mouths off wind up dead” Shiro said. Then a small loud group entered the tavern.
A small girl with wild hair and glasses jumped on a table “Yo yo yo yo yo! What time is it?”
A skinny Spanish boy and a larger boy with deeply tanned answered her. “Showtime!”
Shiro looked over annoyed. “...like I said…”
The girl jumped from one table to another
“Showtime! Showtime! Yo! I’m Pidge Gunderson in the place to be! Uh, two pints o' Sam Adams, but I'm working on three, uh! Those Galras don't want it with me. Cause I will pop chicka-pop these cops 'til I'm free!
The skinny Skinny spanish boy with a bun extracted the small girl from the table
“Ah si si, mi amigo, mi nombre es Lance!” he introduced
“The Lancelot of the revolutionary set! I came from afar just to say: "Buenas noches! Tell the king, “Alejate!” Who's the best? Es mii! He said with a wink.
The bigger boy spoke up this time, Shiro and Keith still sat frozen at the table
“Brrrah, brraaah! I am Hunk Garrett and I’m up in it, lovin’ it. Yes I heard your mother say “come again?” He yelled
Pidge and Lance yelled in approval at their friend “Ayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy”
Hunk continued “Lock up your daughters and horses, of course It's hard to have intercourse over four sets of corsets”
Lance was surprised at his usually soft spoken friend. “Wow.”
Pidge jumped back in “No sex! Just pour me another brew, son! Let’s raise a couple more”
Hunk and Lance jumped in.
“To the revolution!”
Pidge jumped down from her table and waltzed over to Shiro and Keith.
“Well if it ain’t the prodigy of The Garrison”
“Takashi Shirogane” Hunk said.
“Give us a verse, drop some knowledge” Pidge said
Shiro sat back in his seat. “Good luck with that. You’re takin’ a stand. You spit, I’mma sit
We’ll see where we land”
This was crap. Lance booed
Pidge moved closer wanting to know more “Burr, the revolution is imminent, What do you stall for?” she asked
Keith stood up at this point looking at Shiro with disappointment
If you stand for nothing, Shiro, what’ll you fall for?
Lance, Pidge and Hunk looked up at Keith
“Oooh”
“Who are you?” Pidge asked
“Who are you?” Hunk asked
“Who are you?” Lane asked
“Who, who is this kid? What's he gonna do?” They asked in unison.
Keith looked up in shock as the group surrounded him
3. My Shot
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> PLS TREAT THIS CRACK SERIOUSLY. LOL
Keith looked at the group of rowdy teens surrounding him and he just started nervously belting
“I am not throwing away my shot. I am not throwing away my shot. At this point he was standing on a table and the bartender looked ready to throw him and just about everybody out onto the streets.
“Hey yo, I'm just like my country, I'm young, scrappy, and hungry and I'm not throwing away my shot” He jumped down from the table and picked up his drink taking a swig.
“I'mma get scholarship to King's College. I probably shouldn't brag, but dag, I amaze and astonish.” He said winking at no one in particular. “The problem is I got a lot of brains, but no polishI gotta holler just to be heard With every word I drop knowledge” He said. He moved over to the rowdy group of Pidge, Lance and Hunk and sat at their table.
“I'm a diamond in the rough, a shiny piece of coal. Tryin' to reach my goal, my power of speech: unimpeachable. Only nineteen, but my mind is older. These New York City streets getting colder, I shoulder.Ev'ry burden, ev'ry disadvantage I have learned to manage. I don't have a gun to brandish
I walk these streets famished. The plan is to fan this spark into a flame. But damn, it's getting dark, so let me spell out my name I am the—” Keith was about to spell his name solo before the rest jumped in
:
“K-E, I-T-H, K-O, G, A-N-E, we are—meant to be” they shouted
Keith started up rapping again drinking a bit more, Shiro looked on annoyed
“A colony that runs independently. Meanwhile, Britain keeps shitting on us endlessly. Essentially, they tax us relentlessly. Then King George turns around, runs a spending spree. He ain't never gonna set his descendants free. So there will be a revolution in this century. ENTER ME!” He yells
“(He says in parentheses)” Lance snickers
“Don't be shocked when your history book mentions me. I will lay down my life if it sets us free. Eventually you'll see my ascendancy” He said moving more around the bar picking up an annoyed Pidge who began to sing along. | 71bc248e97d341feb2dc9cf327aa88ab | ['e57f0190070d4c9aa0dd1ab675ff373d'] | Time to take a shot (Woah-oh)
And I am (And I am)
Not throwing away my
Not throwing away my shot!
**Author's Note:**
> Okay, so let me tell you now: I am Klance trash and sadly there isn't gonna be any Klance in this because the first time I heard this musical Lance and Lafayette were like one in my mind. So..sorry peeps
>
>
>
> I need feedback! How am I supposed to know you loved it.....or even hated it....
>
> Comment, bookmark, kudos I'd love to hear from you, don't be shy!
>
> ♦♥ I hope you enjoyed! ♥♦ |
52c5ade0c4d74d1a81d39fec3679ed12 | ['e5b7ca1daaed4c8ead8deb9065fe8977'] | Ben Hardy did, in fact, reply. And fairly quickly, too. I heard the _ding_ of a new message on the Fido app, and bit my lip in anticipation. Paige giggled and looked over my shoulder.
**BEN:** Hey Y/N… 😏
I squeaked and covered my eyes. Paige snatched the phone from my hands again, and I didn’t think to stop her from replying to Ben until it was yet again too late.
**Y/N:** I have a question for you :)
“What are you gonna ask him?” I demanded from Paige. She just gave me a nefarious grin, and it made me start laughing. Ben replied, and I looked over Paige’s shoulder.
**BEN:** A question? Mm okay. Ask me anything
Paige started typing. I didn’t even think to take my phone back from her. I didn’t even process what she typed until it was sent.
**Y/N:** I’m wondering….
**Y/N:** Do youuu….
**Y/N:** Wanna screw?
_“Paige!_ ” The implications of her words finally sunk in. I lunged for my phone, but she moved her back to me and held it out of reach. She shrieked with laughter as she kept typing.
**Y/N:** And by screw, I mean YOURSELF
**Y/N:** GO SCREW YOURSELF
**Y/N:** Cheating prick
**Y/N:** Thats right, we know about Lily
**Y/N:** YOUR GIRLFRIEND
**Y/N:** This is Y/N’s best friend. NO ONE FUCKS WITH Y/N
I blinked, staring at my phone screen in Paige’s hands, watching the words blur and focus through my haze of inebriation. “Paige, why did you do that?”
“I just stood up for my best friend,” Paige said proudly, dusting off her hands like she’d just finished a bar fight.
“Wait…” This wasn’t right.
“He’s probably shitting himself,” Paige guffawed.
“Paige. That was kind of rude.”
Paige looked alarmed. “Rude? No, he was being rude to _you_.”
“He wasn’t being rude. He was being nice.” _He’s only ever been nice._
“But he was gonna screw you over, Y/N…”
I turned away from Paige, feeling weird about it all now, feeling weird in general. The flashing lights on the dance floor kaleidoscoped in my eyes as I tried to process my thoughts.
Ben had never been anything but sweet to me in the few days I’d known him. Paige was a good friend, and it was nice that she was willing to do anything to stick up for me, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that her words and actions to Ben just now were a little unfounded. A _lot_ unfounded. We didn’t even know if Ben was cheating on someone. There was good reason to suspect it, but I just… I just didn’t know.
What if he _wasn’t_ cheating on anyone? What if he was single, and he really, really liked me?
_I just screwed up everything_.
“Can we just go home?” I asked.
“Shoot, Y/N. I’m really sorry.” Paige tugged on my arm. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I just thought you might have wanted…”
She looked genuinely regretful. I shook my head and smiled mildly at her. She was my best friend. And we were both less than sober at the moment. There’s no way I could be mad at Paige right now.
“It’s okay. Let’s just go home.”
Ben never replied to the messages that night.
———
Sunday, 7 July
🐾 _Drop-in visit for Frankie started at 8:15 am_
_🐾 Today at 8:17 am:_
**Y/N:** Hi, Ben. I’m over here with Frankie now. She’s doing great.
**Y/N:** I want to apologize for last night. I am so sorry for sending those horrible messages to you. That was completely inappropriate and uncalled for. I completely understand if you feel the need to report my profile on Fido.
I plopped down on Ben’s couch in his condo, listening to the sounds of Frankie eating her breakfast. Paige and I had gone home immediately after the whole ordeal with Ben last night, and she’d spent the rest of the night and all of this morning apologizing to me. I couldn’t be mad at Paige; she had been pretty inebriated. Yeah, she shouldn’t have grabbed my phone and texted my client like that, but she was high, and I couldn’t blame her for what she did while she was high. Frankly, I had been angry at Ben, too. Paige just expressed her anger more upfront, while I would have preferred the more passive route.
_Ding._ Ben messaged back:
**BEN:** I’m not gonna report your Fido profile, lol
_Whew._ I hugged my knees to my chest while waiting for his next messages.
**BEN:** You don’t need to apologize if it was your friend
**BEN:** Was it your friend?
It was, but what difference did it make? I gnawed at my cheek and considered what I should say next.
**Y/N:** Yeah, that was my friend Paige. But I let her send them. I should have been more careful. I shouldn’t have let her take my phone and send those messages.
**BEN:** It’s okay Y/N
**BEN:** You’re probably wondering who Lily is
I wasn’t wondering who Lily was. I knew who she was, or I had at least a pretty good sense. She was Ben’s girlfriend, or girl _thing_ , or something along those lines. But I let Ben keep typing.
**BEN:** Can I call you ?
Nervously, I agreed and texted Ben my actual phone number. While I waited for him to call, I beckoned Frankie over. She jumped on the couch, plopped down on her tummy, and rested her chin on my arm. I couldn’t resist leaning down to smoosh her face against mine, and her tail wagged. For some reason, the thought that I would be _talking_ to Ben in a few seconds, on the phone…hearing his voice aloud again…had my heart beating fast and my stomach clenching in excitement.
My phone rang, and I answered it before the first ring ended.
“Hello?” | 1e267a3786914f019cbfb46fc93d577e | ['e5b7ca1daaed4c8ead8deb9065fe8977'] | And you know he’s close too, as his grunts grow louder and his breaths hotter. “Come for me, darling,” he spurs you on.
A white-hot explosion of finality fills your mind and your core. Brian’s cock pulses inside of you, and his moans invade every one of your thoughts. Your body seizes against his, an indescribable heat followed by utter limpness. Your screams die down to wild pants.
A few seconds of blissful stillness, and then Brian pulls himself out of you. A delightful warmth —yours? his? — leaks from you down your legs.
You’re sore, so beautifully sore everywhere.
Your knees choose that moment to give out on you.
Brian catches you swiftly by the waist, chuckling. “Oh, dear. Look what I’ve done to you.” He pulls you upright and holds you up like dead weight. Seeing you’re useless on your own, he hoists you up once more and props you on the cool granite of the kitchen island.
Something about the idea of his seed on your thighs running onto the counter makes you feel giggly.
He chuckles with you for a moment, eyes scrutinizing your naked form. “How was that?” he asks, almost hesitantly.
“Can you…fuck me like that…more often…?” is all you could make out.
Brian chuckles again, the sound like bells to your ears. “Your wish is my command. Let me go get you another warm bath started.”
♛♛♛♛♛♛♛♛ |
27dcd6f2be394cb5978008a9b12624da | ['e5e9d7c53ced4735a39679e2055f0603'] | “I don’t know what you’re trying to imply, Shelly, but I don’t appreciate it,” Draco snaps, the air of amusement evaporating from his face. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Harry and I have sugar-free rocket lollies to pass out before they melt.” Draco grabs Harry’s hand and hauls him away from the two stunned women. “Daft cow,” Draco mutters as they make their way to their blanket and wicker basket. Teddy is sitting on the blanket with his best friend Maggie as they blow bubbles from a small purple bottle.
“Draco! Harry! Did you see my bubbles? Aren’t they pretty?” Teddy blows some bubbles in Draco’s direction, the apples of his cheeks swelling as he grins up at them.
“Yes, they are, sweetheart,” Draco chuckles, his scowl transforming so quickly into a bright grin that Harry almost experiences whiplash.
“Well done, Teddy-bear,” Harry adds, his hand coming to rest on the small of Draco’s back. “I’m glad you won’t let some stupid, backwards talk ruin your mood.”
“It’ll take a lot more than some needling cow to spoil such a lovely day,” Draco scoffs.
And it is a lovely day. St James’s Park is bursting to the brim with people, and the daycare mums have carved out a nice section of the park to host their picnic event. “Come here,” Draco suddenly mutters, tugging him close to gently kiss him in front of all the pearl-clutching daycare mums. When they separate, Teddy is beaming up at them and more than a few parents are looking their way. “Love you,” Draco whispers with a wink.
“Love you, too,” Harry says, feeling terribly warm and fuzzy. He shakes himself a bit and claps his hands together. “Alrighty, Teddy, why don’t you help Draco and me pass out ice lollies to your classmates?”
“Yeah!” Teddy cheers, standing and bouncing from foot to foot. “Can Maggie help?” he asks. Maggie’s face lights up.
“If her mummy doesn’t mind, of course!” Harry responds, looking around for Maggie’s mum.
“Oh, she won’t!” Maggie says excitedly. “Here! I’ll take you to her!” She jumps to her feet, grabbing Harry’s hand and taking Teddy’s in the other.
**\---**
“LEAVE ME ALONE!”
Harry gasps, his heart jumping into his throat as he recognises Teddy’s little voice ringing out from across the park. He immediately drops the bag of ice lollies in his hands and spins on his heel, his eyes frantically searching for Teddy’s blonde head and bright fairy wings.
“Oh no!” the little girl before him from the daycare pouts, staring down at the ruined lollies.
There. Near the gates of the park stands Teddy. How the _fuck_ did they allow him to stray so far away from them? There are three taller boys looming over Teddy, whose little hands are balled into fists at his sides, his bag of ice lollies spilled out at his feet.
It all happens within seconds—
Teddy’s friend, Maggie screams, “LEAVE HER ALONE!” as one of the older boys rips Teddy’s fairy wings from off his back. Another boy holds Maggie back while the last one shoves Teddy, hard, causing him to fall roughly backwards onto his bum. “You’re a _freak!”_ shouts the boy. Teddy then bursts into wild, devastating tears.
Before he can stop to think, Harry breaks into a run, dodging the maze of parents and kids spread out on their blankets in the grass. His heart pounds against his ribcage as he watches the boy with Teddy’s wings throw them onto the ground and take off running out the park, his hoodlum friends following behind him.
“Mr Potter!” Maggie cries out when Harry’s in front of them. He wants to chase after the boys, hex them to oblivion, but Teddy’s red face and shattered expression causes Harry to lose his breath as he crouches down in front of him. “Mr Potter, they hurt Thea!”
“Teddy,” Harry says frantically, his hands reaching out to the trembling child, but Teddy jerks back, shaking his head wildly from side to side through his gasping cries.
_“DRACO!”_ Teddy screams hysterically between his cries. " _DRACO!”_
Harry falls back onto his bum, his eyes going wide in confusion, panic, and fear as Teddy continues to scream out for Draco. There’s a soft _pop_ and Draco is at Harry’s side, scooping Teddy up into his arms so he can cling to him like a lifeline, his sobs devastating. Harry can’t even think about the fact that Draco Apparated in a _muggle park_ and in front of a muggle child because his husband’s face is so thunderous—so intensely _murderous_ —that Harry has, once again in the span of mere seconds, lost his breath.
Harry tears his gaze away from them to glance at Maggie, her dark brown eyes brimming with silent tears as she wrings her hands nervously in front of her tiny body. “Maggie, I’m so sorry…here, let me take you back to your mummy so I can explain what happened.”
As Harry gets to his feet to take Maggie’s hand, Draco is sinking down to sit in the grass, his legs gracefully folding underneath him, Teddy’s body still curled around him and whimpering. He can’t discern the soft murmur of words coming from Draco as he rocks Teddy. He instead nods to himself and with Maggie at his side, makes his way back to the picnic.
“Will Thea be okay?” Maggie asks, looking up at him with a solemn expression.
Harry’s heart is once more slamming against his ribcage, and he swallows thickly to soothe the burning ball of pressure pressing up his throat.
“Yes. Thea will be okay.”
**\---**
“I’m going to give him a bath, can you set up the fort?” | 79b0a64826634a40966957626e48c1c5 | ['e5e9d7c53ced4735a39679e2055f0603'] | He’s spending more time with his friends – not the usual Friday night Slytherin do, but they meet at coffeehouses during the day when he’s free or will come by Grimmauld Place for dinner. On those nights Potter disappears to visit Weasley and Hermione. Sometimes if the couple can get Molly to babysit Rose, they’ll pop over with takeaway and a game board in hand to spend the evening with him. He had celebrated his twenty-third birthday in the lavish gardens of Grimmauld Place, his friends, the Weasley family, and even his parents joining him to celebrate. It had been an awkward, nevertheless intriguing affair watching Potter stiffly interact with Lucius. His mother had been graceful, showering him with gifts from Paris, hugs, and kisses. He’d even found time to pull Pansy aside, who’s now officially dating Blaise, and apologise to her profusely about his behaviour over the last several months, to which Pansy accepted in tears.
“What are you doing home this early?” Draco asks slowly as he unclasps his cloak. He feels slightly sweaty after a long day of running between department inventories at St Mungo’s. He’s in desperate need of a shower, but the thought of having to navigate the hellish space Potter calls their ensuite gives him pause. “And what is that smell?” Potter, who is shifting through the owl posts and wearing a paisley-covered kitchen apron, looks up and smiles that bold Gryffindor smile that makes Draco feel a bit weak in the knees.
“I filed my proper forms on time for once, so I decided to celebrate with bolognese!” Draco walks up to Potter, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth.
“Nothing like doing the bare minimum to warrant a half day off,” he snorts, loosening his tie.
“Did you have a good day?”
“It was productive,” he replies.
“Anything else?” Potter gives him a pointed look. Draco tries to ignore it, sidling up to the owl inbox as well and cringing when he lifts a heavy envelope with fancy calligraphy, no doubt some soiree his parents have invited him to. He tosses it aside.
“What were you expecting?” he asks loftily.
“Nothing.” Potter shrugs. “Do you want wine with your bolognese?”
Draco tuts, a smirk twitching at his lips. “ _Do I want wine?_ Of course I do.” He pauses to take in Potter's nervous, expectant face. “I was _fine_ today, Potter. A bit anxious, but not as bad as usual. It’s not as if I’m triggered every single time someone bumps into me.” Draco steps away to flop down onto a sofa, pulling his hair free from its ribbon to fall about his shoulders. He languidly exhales.
“I know.”
“But that’s what you were asking, right? You should practice on your subtlety more, for Merlin’s sake, you’re an Auror. Don’t your lot go undercover? You’re so transparent.” Potter doesn’t say anything as he comes to perch his bum on the arm of the sofa. “I suppose I should learn some new breathing exercises.”
“We can always try humming!” Potter suggests excitedly. “It sounds like a fun way to destress.” Potter starts to hum. Draco cringes at the horrible sounding vibrations coming Potter’s throat, and it’s only after about thirty seconds of listening to the tone-deaf humming that he recognises it as a Spice Girl’s song.
Draco chuckles. “You’re a twat.” Potter doesn’t ease up from his sounds, if anything humming louder. “Please, please, Potter! Stop subjecting me to this torture – I get it! I’ll hum,” he says with a laugh as Potter stops his humming. “You’re impossible.”
“Budge up, why don’t you?” Potter says, sliding from the arm to the sofa when Draco moves back. “I think: relax. Breathe. Rock yourself. Think of a song, and hum it. That’s our new exercise.”
“ _Oh, yeah._ Because _I_ know Muggle songs by heart,” he drawls sarcastically. Potter pokes him in the ribs.
“You say this, but I _know_ I’ve heard you singing Whitney Houston in the shower.”
“I do not,” he says, cheeks warming in mortification. He can’t help it if he’s picked up on the tunes played on the Muggle wireless. Draco shoves him, to which Potter responds with his own shove. They begin to tussle and soon Potter’s arms are wrapped around Draco’s body.
“Are you considering kissing me right now?” Draco asks with a raised brow. “Because I’d really like you to.” Potter meets his gaze with a heated one of his own and hums in approval before pressing Draco’s body into the sofa. His lips lightly brush against Draco’s cheek, the gentle touch sending a shiver through Draco’s whole body. Potter brushes his lips against his cheekbone before his lips are on Draco’s. He pulls Potter closer to him as they kiss carefully, as if the slightest wind between them will break them apart. He knots his fist into Potter’s shirt and groans low in his throat as Potter opens his mouth, their tongues sliding against each other in a slow, tantalising dance.
A spark of courage strikes Draco and he pulls back. “Want to get on top,” he says quickly. Potter nods and helps him straddle his thighs. Potter’s arms go around his waist.
“Are you comfortable?”
Draco nods and cradles Potter’s face in his hands before their mouths meet. And it’s perfect, Draco thinks, his fingers now in Potter’s hair as the kiss becomes frenzied. They kiss vehemently, not at all like the tender kisses they have been prone to do as of late. Potter holds him tighter around his waist as he tugs the bottom of his lip between his teeth. It’s like a fierce and sultry dance as they moan, lick, and gasp against each other’s mouths. Draco’s so enthralled by Potter’s wicked tongue he shamelessly whimpers in the back of his throat, breaths coming out in heavy gusts through his nostrils as his eyes flutter shut and he wraps his arms around Potter’s neck. |
a1546e12656a4dedb52cb3a7c53c903d | ['e5ed8e22a0ae4b36a145064154b3ce75'] | Courage, it took him so much courage to climb out of bed and head back to the coffee shop that morning. The waitress, with her pretty hair and her bright eyes, was thrilled to see him. Her eyes darted over to the window and her brows creased in confusion when he placed his order. Yes, her curtains were pulled shut once again. Yes, her father's expensive car still sat on the street. It was taking him a lot of courage to buy three takeout coffees and cross that street today.
Hopefully, the anger that had plagued their house yesterday had passed over and maybe he would get the chance to introduce himself. If there was anything he could do that would show you he cared it would be formally introducing himself to your father. Maybe it would even help if the atmosphere was still tense.
He froze on the sidewalk and looked towards the window, no sign of the lights being on because of the sun beating down today. That wasn't going to stop him though, she was always up at this time and he had even made sure to come later to make sure he wasn't disturbing your father's sleep either.
His feet started to move closer to the entrance of your building, both of his hands holding tightly to the coffee cups to keep them from shaking. When he released one hand to pull open the building's door he had to rest the tray of cups against his body to stable them as he made his way forward. He slowly grew closer to your door, his heart pounding and drowning out every other sound until the second he raised his hand to knock on your door.
It was like all the insecurities from the day before came flooding back to him in that second and he was hesitant to knock. He wanted to leave, wanted to go home and wait it out but he had no idea how long your father would be here. Now that he was standing right outside your door he could actually hear some of the argument.
"Dad please don't do this!" Her voice rose up, panicked and frightened and he could tell that she was crying, that tears had stained your soft skin as they rolled down your face.
"Shut up! Don't fucking speak! Don't even fucking look at me!" His blood ran cold at that, what could she have done to make her dad this mad?
A strange part of him believed that she had told her dad about him, told him that she had been talking to someone who stood outside her window and offered her coffee. If she had told her father that and this was his reaction he had no desire to be here, he didn't want to make matters worse. It was perfectly reasonable, her father was the one to keep her locked in this house, he might not have wanted her to talk to random people he didn't know.
"Daddy, please! You don't want to do thi-"
"Shut up or I will fucking shoot you!" His eyes widened when he heard a soft thud, the sound of something being thrown down to the ground, and his hands releasing the tray of coffees as he grabbed the knob and pushed into the house.
It hadn't been the sound of something landing on the floor but the sound of her pained cry. He had heard the soft groan through the door and that is what had made him lunge forward into the small apartment. The first thing his eyes had landed on was a tall man, his hair cropped short and his face stained red. He looked pissed but there was also a glimmer of hurt in his eyes. In one hand he held a bottle of whiskey; in the other, clutched tightly in his grip was a gun, his finger already on the trigger.
"Don't you fucking move!" The hand holding the gun came up and aimed directly at him, his hand wavering because of how drunk the man was. "Who the fuck are you?!"
"No! Dad don't hurt him!" Rapunzel rose from where she had been staring at him on the floor and stood in front of him, her arms spread dramatically as if that would guard him perfectly.
"Sir I'm just a friend of your daughter's." His hands grabbed her sides and moved her behind him, his body shielding hers and his hands holding her in place as she struggled. "I'm sorry I just barged in but I didn't know you were here."
"You let this guy into our house while I was gone?!" The man roared and charged forward, pressing his gun against his temple as he shoved him backward. Jimin raised his hands in surrender as he stepped away from her.
She lunged at her father to push him away, her arms wrapping around the arm that held the gun and Jimin was quick to lunge out of the way, afraid of the trigger being pulled during the melee. Her father reacted to the attack and brought the glass bottle against her head, the liquid spilling down to the floor as she collapsed onto the floor.
Her father kneeled down next to her, his eyes still trained on Jimin to keep him in his place. The air in the apartment went cold and time seemed to have slowed down. He didn't know what to do, he didn't know if he should try and get the gun away from him but seeing her laying on the floor, her eyes telling him no, he found himself frozen. | 5dc5a00c9e1b4860a11760af801a9490 | ['e5ed8e22a0ae4b36a145064154b3ce75'] |
100 Ways To Say I Love You || Jeon Jungkook
**Author's Note:**
> Here is the start of the Jungkook stories. I hope you all enjoy! For this series, it is going to be a series of very short stories that are going to be approximately 1000 words each. Each member will have their own set of prompts for their stories and it will all be the same relationship for that specific member but each prompt will be a different time in that relationship.
Dancing, one of your few passions you had. Every day you got out of bed and went to work, teaching little girls whose eyes gleamed liked yours. You loved your job but at times it could be a little unstable, classes dwindled during the school year and money was always tight. Today was one of those days that you had off simply because you were able to schedule all the kids into three classes throughout the week.
Netflix was becoming your new best friend and was slowly starting to be another one of your passions as you clutched your throw pillow to your chest, fighting back the tears as the most recent show had you choking on air as you tried not to cry. Who would have thought that a single show would have you hooked completely with the first two episodes?
It was already growing dark outside and the show was reaching its climax, the remote in your hand as you kept inching the volume up the quieter the scenes got. Your eyes were completely glued to the screen as you waited for the big reveal, your heart pounding and tears pricking your eyes as you started to blink rapidly to clear them away. For a second your eyes were closed and the background music of the show reached a fast crescendo, drowning out any sound that was outside your apartment and making you jump.
“Shit. Why does it have to be so loud?” You mumbled quietly to yourself and quickly adjusted the volume to a reasonable setting.
Luckily the music had surprised you enough to keep the tears at bay and leave you with only the empty feeling as the show came to a close, the main characters trapped in their sorrows and being crushed completely by their problems to leave you on a horrendous cliff-hanger.
“You know I never realized that my girlfriend talks to herself before.” The soft voice that spoke over the T.V and flooded the small apartment made your heart skip a beat as you spun on the couch to see Jungkook standing with his arms crossed as he leaned in the doorway.
“Jungkook.” Your voice cracked as you spoke his name, the two syllables not even making it successfully out of your mouth before you were leaping over the back of the chair and running to his outstretched arms.
The tears that you had been fighting back the entire show had finally fallen, leaving a trail in the perfectly placed makeup you had put on earlier in the day when you got bored. Your body collided into his as you had flung your arms around his neck and lifted your legs around his waist. Immediately the smell of your favorite perfume filled the air around you guys, the jacket he had been wearing having been drenched in it by him.
“I missed you so much.” His voice broke when he finally spoke, his hands sliding along your spine as he held you up, your face buried in his neck. You knew he was close to crying because you had started crying so you didn’t speak back.
He understood you perfectly when your fingers wound themselves in his hair and your lips placed soft kisses to his neck. His arms tightened around you and he walked further into the house, setting you down on the counter but never unwrapping his arms from around you. The two of you stayed like that for ages, just whispering into each other’s ears as you embraced each other.
“I got you something while I was in Japan.” Jungkook was the first to pull away as his hands slid from your back to cradle your face. He smiled at you and let his thumbs clear up the traces of tears that had been staining your cheeks.
“You didn’t have to get me anything Jungkook.” You let your arms fall down to his sides, your fingers idly playing with the soft material of his jacket. “You were probably super busy anyway with the concerts and everything.”
“You know we do get a little bit of free time.” He chuckled and pressed his lips to your forehead, pulling a smile onto your face as well. “We’re not prisoners, just idols.” He pulled his hands away from you finally, dragging his giant camo backpack to sit on your lap as he dug through it.
“Seems more like prisoners to me sometimes.”
“That’s only because you have a job where you can choose your own hours.” You nodded in affirmation, watching as his brow furrowed and the bag was hoisted from your legs for him to place it on the floor. “Where is it?”
You felt sorry for him as you realized that he could have easily left it in his hotel room while he was in a rush to check out. He started to pull out his other things, shirts and wires being pulled one by one and placed on your kitchen floor before his face lit up and he pulled out a small box.
“Is that my gift?” Your eyes widened as you looked at the foreign label, dark swirls encompassing the fancy lettering and overtaking the pictures of cherry blossom trees as if they were vines.
“No, it’s a box of donuts.” Your face fell as the excitement started to dwindle; a chuckle pushing past his lips when he saw your expression. “I was kidding babe. This is your present.” He moved over his clothes and his camera bag, carefully handing you the box.
The dark swirls you had seen before were textured with velvet to match the lettering that was on the box and your interest piqued once again. You carefully pulled out the lid of the box and peered inside, the gleam of the wood shining in the box despite the lack of lights. You reached in and pulled it out, setting your gift on your lap as you stared down at the little music box.
“I saw it when I went to this little market with Yoongi. It reminded me of you.” You smiled widely as you turned it around, the dark brown of the wood making a great contrast for the little silver knob that spun with ease.
You wound it up as much as you could and carefully opened the lid. When the lid was left hanging by its hinges a little trap door opened up and a small figurine of a ballerina rose out of the box as the music started to fill the apartment. The music was soft and lulling as you listened to it but a part of you knew something was weird.
“Jungkook.” His eyes locked with yours and a blush rose to his cheek as your smile grew wider. “This is Begin. This is your song.” He chuckled once again and moved to you, his palms smoothing over your thighs as he nodded. “Then you couldn’t have just found it at a market.”
“I ordered it a few weeks before I got there. I had seen the shop before and I wanted to get you something that would remind you of me when I was gone.” His chest expanded quickly as he took a deep breath and released it as a deep sigh, his nerves getting to him.
“I love it. I’ll play it every night.”
**Author's Note:**
> I hope you all enjoyed this story! Feel free to leave feedback on what you think and look forward to the next installation! |
9fe8160bc1794201883d3cb7917258da | ['e5fe5cae8cde451c95196ffc954b5d4d'] | Leonardo braced his hands against his father’s broken leg. “Okay then. Let’s do this.”
April only had one bottle of painkillers to go around, a generic over the counter brand, she needed a dose herself after Splinter squeezed her hand into paste.
* * *
The following days were muted. Waiting, letting wounds heal and their trail to go cold wasn’t easy. The turtles were anxious, especially Raphael.
April wasn’t a target so she felt safe enough going to work though there was always a turtle on sentry duty, keeping to the shadows of the roof access.
They contacted the Mutanimals to warn them about the Nemesis, other than that there wasn’t much more they could do. Splinter was immobile and unconscious for most hours of the day. His body needed to recover after that devastating battle and no one was willing to leave him. Not like last time.
“What are the odds this is all the E.D.F’s doing.” Raphael leaned against the old office chair, gazing tiredly at the screen of April’s computer. Donatello was hunched over the keys searching and researching several files he had given April months ago. They were back-up copies, a clever move, but unfortunately the info he had gathered didn’t amount to much. None of it explained the strange creature that invaded their lair.
“That monster didn’t just appear out of the aether, my only other guess is that it could be—.”
“Hey Don, Raph, dinner’s on!” Michelangelo peeped in through the opening.
“Give us another ten minutes,Mikey. We’re trying to discuss—.”
“Discussion is officially on hold,” Raphael interrupted, swiveling the office chair Donatello was sitting in around so he was facing the doorway. “I’m starving. Let’s eat.”
“I used that chili recipe you told me about,” April wiped her hands on a dish towel as Michelangelo and Leonardo set plates and bowls on the living room coffee table. Master Splinter was bundled up on a recliner, absorbing the latest soap opera. The turtles knew they would have to negotiate the remote away from their father, a daunting idea even with the broken leg.
“I went a little light on the peppers, didn’t want to burn a hole through everyone’s lower intestine.”
“Aw come on,the heat is the best part!” Raphael was spooning gobs of chili onto a plate even as he complained. “Ah well, probably still tastes good.” And it did.
* * *
“Are you serious, Leo? It’s freezing out here!”
Leonardo turned, half surprised to see April standing behind him on top of the apartment building. It was snowing again, another icy cold January night. The young woman made a show of shivering and rubbing her forearms before stomping through the snow to meet the turtle at the roof's edge. “Aren't reptiles cold blooded?”
“Hah, please, you know those rules don’t really apply to us.” Leonardo raised a hand to catch snowflakes. April playfully tugged on the tail of his mask. “Blue mask, grey eyes, you might have been an ice demon in another life.”
Leonardo smiled. “They called me Snow Miser, whatever I touch,” He brought a kunai into view, and flipped it around a few times in one hand, making a fancy show of it. “Turns to snow in my clutch.” With a flick of his wrist the knife vanished, replaced by a snowball.
“How do you always do that?” April’s eyes glanced over him in amazement, trying to vain to discover the fate of the kunai.
“Ninja magic.” Leonardo raised the snowball suggestively, April half stepped, half hopped backwards bearing a pouting frown.
“If you toss that at me, I’m tossing you off this roof.”
Leo harmlessly tossed the snowball over his shoulder. “Happy?”
“Yes, very.” April was at his side again appearing pleased yet cautious, possibly expecting a surprise ninja snowball at any moment.
“Where have you been?” April finally asked after a decent pause. “The others said you just vanished for a while.” She wouldn’t have known, being at work most of the day. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You went to go see them?”
“I did.” Leonardo admitted easily. “Well I didn’t actually meet up with them but I left a message. I had to warn them about this Nemesis situation. They’re mutants too.”
April pursed her lips. “Understandable.” He was used to telling her about “them”, his other family that remained loyal to the Foot. The Foot raised mutants were a subject he couldn’t bring himself to talk to the others about. But with April it was easy, he had spoken to her about a lot of things.
“Thanks for letting us stay with you, April.” Leo squinted. “Did I ever say thanks?”
“You didn’t have to,” April waved dismissively. “It’s what friends do.”
“Hm,” As Leonardo watched the street below he noted the quiet. It was quiet when that Nemesis thing attacked. “We can’t stay here.”
“Why not?”
“That monster may not be dead, we had no way to check for its body, it could still be out there. And if we’re with you that puts you in danger.”
“Just knowing you guys is dangerous.” April shrugged halfheartedly. “But it’s a risk I’m okay with. You guys helped me find my brother and I can't thank you enough for that." She reached out and gave his shoulder a squeeze. "After all the times have I backed your plays, you should know this by now.”
“I know.” Leo clenched his fists, his friend was brave but she wasn’t strong,not physically. Was it foolish for her to care about them this much? It was clearly...but he didn’t want her to stop caring and there lay the rub. | 03d60f6e315b442fa2a552044cb2123f | ['e5fe5cae8cde451c95196ffc954b5d4d'] | Donatello’s senses shocked him like the connection of two exposed wires. His bo shot around catching splinters of wood as the far side of the cabin’s walls exploded towards him. Mikey rolled in front of him, deflecting a trio of throwing stars with his nunchucks as Donatello leapt clear. Two mutant reindeer charged inside as if summoned by the storm outside. The normally calm and quiet minded caribou possessed completely white eyes, blank as formless hills of snow.
“It’s Sleiyer and Kima, what's wrong with them?” The orange banded turtle threw himself into the massive mutant reindeer’s center of mass, knocking the air out of Sleiyer’s lungs, a sweeping kick knocked the reindeer’s bone club from his hand, landing it behind the television. Michelangelo didn’t have enough time to block a rear blow from Kima, Sleiyer’s sister, her scimitar slashed down at his shell.
“Two on one isn’t fair!” Donatello blocked the blow, with a shout he threw Kima back into the lodge’s heavy wooden table, it broke in half on impact.
“Thanks bro.” Mikey beamed as he pushed Sleiyer back, giving himself more room to use his weapons. “I thought Chris Kringle taught his reindeer manners!”
“Have you noticed their eyes? I think something’s controlling them, Mikey.” Donatello guarded his brother’s side, shell to shell as the two caribou siblings recovered.
“Something definitely happened after we left them in the Yukon!”
“But what?” Mikey asked while removing a shuriken stuck in one of his nunchaku, their glittery surface caught his eye. “Wow look at this shuriken!” Mikey exclaimed after prying it free, he gasped in enchanted wonder. “They’re shaped like snowflakes!”
Donatello laughed without meaning to probably due to sleep depravation. “Seriously?” Donatello twisted to the left, sweeping his staff against the charging Sleiyer’s legs. When he tripped forward, nunchucks clocked him in the back of the head,downing the reindeer quickly.
“Aw man these shuriken are so cute.” Mikey said gleefully as if he was just noticing them for the first time. “I want some like these!” Donatello rolled his eyes as he jumped over the sofa, knocking it over to put something between him and Kima who slashed at him wildly. “You should make a set for Raphael while you’re at it.”
“Good idea, I bet he’d love that!” Mikey shouted, admiring the almost crystal like features of the snowflake shuriken along with several others embedded into the wall. With child-like glee he noticed they all looked different. “I guess this is like their theme or something? It’s adorable!”
Mikey heard the quiet whistle of metal through the air just in time to dodge the path of three more shuriken.
*thpthpthp* Deadly blades thudded into a table lamp instead of him, missing him by a millisecond. Past the destroyed wall and through the heavy snow, Mikey could see more forms coming towards the cabin, all bearing antlers. “Crap. Reinforcements, Donny,” Michelangelo shouted. "Looks like Sleiyer's herd is dashing through the snow straight for us!"
“Then this is a lost cause,” It was time to regroup with the others. Donatello’s bow spun, blocking a sword swing aimed at his face. “Snow mobiles outback, let's get out of here!”
Sleiyer was still on the ground, dazed from Mikey’s strike to the back of the head, though it was lucky the weapon didn’t get stuck in the caribou's antlers.
“Aaaarg!” Kima chucked half of the wooded table clear across the room but Mikey and Don were ready, bounding over it and her in a single jump. “I’m telling Santa and he is not going to be happy with either of you!”
“Lets go, Mikey!” Donatello beckoned as they darted for the garage where the snow-mobiles were parked, jamming the door with a crowbar so the remaining reindeer warrior could not follow.
“You know what else I wanna try?” Michelangelo asked, already revving one of the bikes. “I totally wanna make smoke bombs out of tree ornaments. Absolutely nobody would see that coming.”
Donatello chuckled as he snapped on his helmet. “Festive.”
3. Soft
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Title: Turtles Have Lips?
>
> This wasn't a challenge prompt, its a prompt I gave myself. (LeoxApril)
“Huh…interesting.” April leaned away slightly in contemplation, not enough to leave Leonardo’s grasp.
Noting the startled look on her face, Leo couldn't help but feel concern. “What is it?” he asked.
April blinked twice. “For someone who doesn't have any lips you’re a pretty good kisser.” Leo balked. “What? Yes we do-er, I do! What do you think I just finished kissing you with?” April glided her thumb daintily against the upper ridge of Leo’s mouth, still surprised by how soft his skin felt there. As opposed to the rougher textures that comprised the rest of the ninja turtle, this was a delightful change of sensation. “Just…isn’t obvious is all.” April mused quietly. “Oh and another thing,” she started before Leo could reply. “When did you learn how to kiss? Who have you been practicing on? Mikey?”
“Don’t even joke.” Leonardo droned before a blush over took his face. “Well, there was this cute lepi girl I met a few years back, during the last Battle Nexus and she uh…”
“O-ho, I never heard about this,” April leaned in with a mock scrutinizing glare. “You must have kissed her an awful lot to be this good.” Leo shrugged. “It was just the one time but I’ll accept your compliment.”Leo pulled her in closer eying her eagerly. “I consider it a natural talent.”
“Course you do.” April grinned. “But in this venue I’ll be the judge of that.” She pressed her nose to his. “Understand?” Leonardo tilted his face to match hers, their mouths fit so perfectly together and he already missed the feeling.
“Hai, sensei…”
4. Santa
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Theme: Santa
> A drabble for the Weekly Drabble Challenge 12-23-2018
> |
6b22f5527f8649899aef194f65a385f4 | ['e65367f6956f4b03a47a6e7b2a049928'] |
Sick
When he wakes up with his head feeling like it is splitting in two, Sherlock just shrugs. He has had only a couple of hours sleep for the past week since Lestrade brought him the current case and he can’t remember the last time he ate. He thinks he must have, or John would have been shouting at him more, but it will only have been enough to keep the other man off his back. So he surreptitiously takes a couple of paracetamol and shouts at John to follow him as he races out of the door.
*****
As they climb into the taxi Sherlock is aware that his coat and scarf don’t seem to be as warm as normal. Despite their protection he is shivering and trying to avoid curling into himself on the backseat for warmth. He mustn’t let John see him affected. He needs to concentrate, needs to think and he won’t be able to do that with a doctor fussing over him. Besides, it is January and it is windy, surely he’s allowed to feel cold?
*****
By the time they arrive at the cordoned off car park he is struggling to talk and walk. Fortunately he can hide his lack of speech with his usual brusqueness and just hopes that the heaving of his chest isn’t too obvious under his layers of clothes. If he waits longer than normal to berate Anderson about his lack of observation then he doesn’t think it is noticed. If it is, it could be put down to distraction rather than the constriction in his chest. After all, the half mile from where the taxi dropped them had been uphill, he was allowed to feel tired.
*****
As he stalks away from the crime scene having delivered his deductions in what he hopes was his normal, waspish manner he is conscious of John hurrying behind him. As he turns the corner, suddenly realising he can’t keep up this pace, he is glad the other man is close. Turning, he sees blackness clouding the edges of his vision.
“John, I don’t feel w...” and as the blackness grips him he is just aware of strong arms guiding him to the ground.
*****
There were snatches where he almost knew where he was. He was aware of being bundled into a car. A taxi he assumed, he thought he could hear the click of a camera and assumed it must be Lestrade. Why did that man keep taking photos of him when he was vulnerable? Maybe he should speak to someone about it, the man was obviously repressed.
The only constant he knew was the arm around his shoulders, holding him close, supporting him. Keeping him safe as he let the blackness take him.
*****
As he came to Sherlock was aware of a feeling of warmth surrounding him. Without opening his eyes he took in his surroundings. Hard, slightly lumpy leather surface below him – the sofa in their living room. The softness over him was familiar too. He opened his mouth and was surprised to hear a slight tremor in his voice.
“If this blanket is orange, I swear I am going to burn it.”
Pushing it aside he sat up onto the edge of the sofa.
And swayed as an alarming dizziness overtook him and the room seemed to spin. He shook his head, closing his eyes but when he risked opening them again the room was irritatingly failing to keep still.
Trying to ignore the sensation that his legs were made of rubber and the floor was jerking beneath him, he stood, threw the blanket down behind him and set off for his room.
At least that was the plan. Instead, he stood, staggered and heard John shout “Sherlock” just before appearing in his vision. His friend seemed torn between supporting him and pushing him back onto the seat. Frustration won and a sight accompanied the movement as John swung his legs up onto the sofa and began tucking the blanket around him. Sherlock could almost hear him clucking his tongue, but had to put this down to his imagination.
“John.” Sherlock attempted to push him away and was frustrated to see how ineffectual his strength was.
“Sherlock, you collapsed”
“I know, I..”
“In the street, and you hadn’t been well all day. Why you had to go all the way across London to advise on that ridiculous case in the state you were in is beyond me.”
“I was fine.” Sherlock crossed his arms glared at John.
“Well, the situation you are in now shows how blatantly untrue that is. And don’t think for a minute that you fooled me earlier. I saw you shaking in the taxi, and sweating too. I wasn’t sure you were going to make it to the car park.”
“But...”
“But nothing. Would you ask for help? Would you admit that maybe just this once I could do something for you? No. Because you’re bloody Sherlock Holmes and you don’t need anyone!”
Sherlock leant back against the cushions, shutting his eyes. His headache, eased by the painkillers earlier had returned with a vengeance and every word from John seemed to ricochet around his brain.
He could almost sense when John noticed this discomfort and concern overcame anger. The doctor dropped to his knees and a blissfully cool hand was against Sherlock’s forehead, soothing him while John’s voice, now much softer continued to berate him gently.
“If you would only look after yourself, or let me look after you, you wouldn’t end up in this state.”
***** | c8e711a4771d4aaea68185f5e456d7e6 | ['e65367f6956f4b03a47a6e7b2a049928'] | “That was a mistake John, we’re not waiting for anything, we’ve got all the time in the world.” John could practically feel the smirk on Carson’s lips behind him, “Though maybe I could be persuaded”
And then he’s moved back again and is slowly withdrawing from John and just as gradually pushing back in. A sign of their experience, his angle just brushes John’s prostate with each stroke, but it’s agonizingly slow and the sensation isn’t enough for John, it’s just a tease, a promise, and part of him doesn’t know how much more of this he can take, while the other part is just urging it to continue.
“Any particular methods of persuasion you’d care to share?” He tries his best not to whine. It’s a sarcastic comment, he knows it is, but somewhere between his brain and his mouth Carson moved inside him and somehow the emphasis seems to have changed.
“No, no, I’m alright” and John thinks that Carson has no right to sound as casual as that, as if this is just a normal conversation and John isn’t lying there naked, aching and hard again and just on the point of begging, when Carson’s hands move from his hips and pass underneath his body, stroking up his stomach, feather-light so that his stomach muscles contract as they pass, just brushing his cock, but avoiding it when he tries to follow, until they come to his chest, and begin to circle his nipples, one on each side, their movements synchronised, still slow, their pace mirroring the excruciatingly slow thrusts. John has no idea how Carson can do this to him. He need more but each time he pushes back Carson stops and it is only when John forces his trembling body to still that his lover resumes his tantalising rhythm Until suddenly one hand pinches a nipple, and the unexpected sensation causes John to withdraw, pushing himself back onto Carson, as he cries out.
It seems like a signal, because John is aware of Carson’s arm around his chest now, pulling him up so that his back is against Carson and then both hand are on his chest again, playing with him, but now their tempo has changed. It’s rapid and erratic, one moment stroking softly, the next pinching, and sudden descents to stroke his cock, or squeeze, each time causing him to move on his lover’s cock, fucking himself as he both seeks and retreats from the sensations.
Then Carson’s head is on his shoulder, and he is sucking gently on his neck, pushing the collar up slightly for better access, the sensations are too much, he doesn’t know what to concentrate on – the glorious feeling of Carson within him, the teasing of his hands, the claiming of his neck or the possession of the collar once more brought to the forefront of his mind.
“Carson, please, Cars…” and he breaks down, he doesn’t think he can make coherent words any more, only noises and whimpers escape his throat, with the occasional please thrown in for good measure until he feels Carson smile against his neck.
“That’s what I was waiting for” and he can feel Carson’s cock pulsing inside him, even as his hand now surrounds John’s cock, stroking briskly up, but little sensation is needed before John is coming again, crying out as Carson bites down on his neck, marking him, claiming him, and he collapses back against Carson’s body, completely drained, weak, just seeking the protection of his lover that Carson never fails to provide.
And so Carson gently lowers him to the bed, rolling him on his side and lying next to him, pressing their bodies together, as much contact as is possible, and John can’t explain it, doesn’t think he ever will be able to, this feeling of completeness that Carson brings him, the sanctuary he finds when Carson is there, where he can leave his defences outside and know that he is safe.
Carson moves to John’s neck, reaching for the collar but is stopped by John’s hands surrounding his wrists.
“No, not now. Morning” and it is enough so that Carson leaves it and is content to lie down again and look at John as he lies before him; naked apart from this one adornment; that Carson has placed there, that he will remove. His. |
5daf25efb08b4f4da2cf3b1060969d13 | ['e6619d8b70d84bac94ec4ee1721512e1'] |
Jak 2: Teenagers in Haven City
**Author's Note:**
* Inspired by LINK by USER.
> Hello everyone! I’m back and finally decided to do a few redux of a couple of my fan fictions and try to finish some that I have left undone. I’ve been practicing and also been writing a few things. Kinda want to become a novel writer someday, hopefully soon if the book I am writing is finished before 2016.
>
> So anyways, this is one of the first of a couple that will get a rewrite so expect a lot of changes to characters and incidents that happened in the original. That also means that I am taking out the ridiculous OOC stuff that was happening in the chapters… if you read the original, you would know what I am referring to.
>
> Without further interruptions, here is my reboot of Jak 2: Teenagers in Haven City. Well… just for purposes of courtesy, I do not own Jak 2 or anything related. They belong to Naughty Dog who should seriously resume making the series because that recent Jak game… yeah, no.
The clock read seven at night, as did the darkening sky that surrounded my home. It wasn’t scary, though. I’m rarely scared of the dark as long as I have company or a flashlight. Thankfully, the former was present as four of my friends, Neko, Michelle, Annie and Vanessa.
We were all gathered at my house for a sleepover, something I had brought up a week before hand and was happy that they accepted to spend the night of fun at my house. And by fun, I am referring to several hours of playing video games or just make each other laugh. You know, stupid sleepover stuff to pass the night.
Currently, we were having dinner, thanks to my parents’ who had brought it a couple minutes ago. It was Church’s Chicken, a fried chicken place that I considered to have the best fried chicken in Los Angeles. My opinion, mind you. On the television set was Jackass the Movie, playing yet another strange prank that these skaters and stunt people did to amuse people through experiencing pain.
“Oh man! We should, like, play ‘I Never’ later on!” Michelle suggested, receiving a high-five from Neko who had to hunch over the dining table to make contact.
Neko then added with glee after she sat back down, “Yeah! We are so going to have a kick ass time!” She then ripped a piece of meat off the chicken leg she had in her hand, chewing happily before turning to look at Vanessa who had her inquired about the rules of the game.
Annie had started to explain them to her, something I didn’t need to here as I’ve seen it played on that Family Guy episode. Yeah, most of our ideas for entertainment came from television. Our basic necessities came from a television set.
Despite that being an enjoyable game, I declined by saying, “How about you play without me?”
I expected the look I received from them, all staring at me with shock. Sure, I was one for gaining amusement by ridiculing someone for something that they did do, but there are just a few things I wanted to keep silent out of just pure secrecy.
Unlucky for me, Michelle demanded, “Tell us a story, midget!”
Clearly, she wanted to know why I was against playing the game which meant that I would have to tell them. Thankfully, Annie suggested, “Let’s just play a video game. How about Mario Party?”
At least that changed the subject as Michelle shouted, “You guys are so lucky that I brought my Game Cube over. Do you know how hard it was lugging that shit around school the whole day?”
“What about me?” Neko chirped up, clearly not being the only one who had to lug around a game console the whole day.
As we turned, we had just seen Johnny Knoxville getting punched hard in the face by a Japanese female boxer, causing Michelle to laugh loudly and stay seated for a bit as Vanessa eagerly hopped towards the TV to stop the movie and change the back cables to connect the Game Cube.
It was resting on the floor, accompanied by the Playstation 2, which belonged to Neko who I have thanked nearly the whole day for bringing because once we did a few rounds of Mario Party, we were going to play the game I always wanted to play.
Still though, we were going to at least all play together by more than likely straining our friendship through stealing each other’s coins and stars. After the disc was placed in and everyone took their seat with their respective controllers, the screen displayed the title, indicating it was the sixth of its series.
We tried the Mic Mode game, finding it rather challenging but also exciting. It was a long battle with lots of yelling, screaming, and claims of friendship ending when finally, I won. Yep, me. I won the battle, thanks to my strategy and picking Toad. As I did my victory dance, I ignored Michelle’s words of claiming that short people stuck together in which Annie agreed.
Neko, who had been on the sidelines and cheering for whoever she thought was losing, had spoken up and asked, “Hey Lisa, think you can teach me how to draw?”
Yep, I drew on the side, mostly during class. High school is a bit boring, if you ask me.
I agreed, leaving Michelle and Annie to start working on connecting the PS2 to the TV to save us from getting into a fight on who truly won the Mario Party game. | eb0fe54adf6c4cefad6380222059c6d7 | ['e6619d8b70d84bac94ec4ee1721512e1'] | Most of the stuff that I was teaching Neko about drawing was what I had learned from another friend of mine, someone who was really talented and just blew me out of the water. It was bit of a struggle but it wasn’t long until we both agreed that the anime face she had drawn was good enough.
A ringtone echoed through the room, making everyone to look at the source, It was Vanessa as she answered her cellphone. From the first few words she spoke, I knew that it was her ride home. She wasn’t able to get permission to stay over for the night, just until nine.
I decided to walk her out to the front of the house. We exchanged our goodbyes, promising to see each other after the weekend as tonight was a Friday, if it wasn’t obvious. I watched her get into the car, seeing her mother who waved hello to me which I did in return. Once the doors closed, I patiently watched the car do a U-turn before driving down the street and out of my sight.
When I turned to go back inside, I could hear Michelle announcing, “Lock the door! We can play this game without her!”
“Don’t be a jerk!” I called back, rushing inside as I pushed the door open, playfully scowling at Annie who had appeared to have nearly done what Michelle had ordered.
As we got to the living room where we would be sleeping for the night along with playing more video games, I saw that Michelle seemed to be struggling with the TV.
“What’s wrong, Michy?” I asked, using her nickname with concern.
“I just put the disc in and right after we closed the cover, that happened,” she sighed out, gesturing towards the TV. Finally looking at it, I saw that it was on the Rainbow Channel, as I grown to call it. “I like this show…”
Those words disturbed me for a second as I picked up the remote control, briefly hitting the button to change the channel to show that it was just that, a channel. Nickelodeon was now on, bringing Michelle from what seemed to be a trance.
We all returned to the couches, sitting around the television set comfortably.
I was seriously excited. I always wanted to play this game, but my brothers were Xbox fan boys, having my parents buy that instead of a Playstation. I mean, I love Halo, but god there were just some games that weren’t on the Xbox that I wanted to play.
Sitting by Michelle, she had the controller in her hand as she hit the start button.
Excitement was still as the screen suddenly flickered to a blank screen, like the TV had turned off. Silence floated over us before Annie blurted out, “Um… we have a case of the game not on.”
“Well, turn it on or we’re gonna have a case of **my foot up your ass!** ” Michelle threatened, both now glaring at each other before Annie looked around for the controller and saw that I was slightly sitting on it. She slipped it from beneath me, hitting the power button and placing it far away so this wouldn’t repeat during our gaming.
I sighed in relief, glad that the TV was still functioning as we saw Daxter rushing around the title before finally turning it on. That little furball is just so cute but also a bit perverted and funny. Just like most guys in high school, ha!
Once the start indicator came on, Michelle wasted no time and did as commanded. A large mechanical ring spun for a bit before it showed the standard main menu screen. Pushing the highlighting bar around for a bit, she finally let it rest on the “New Game” option.
My fingers clenched and my cheeks were hurting. I couldn’t stop smiling as I waited for the game to start.
I heard the thumb connect with the button, then I heard it again. This seemed to repeat a few more times before everyone stared at Michelle who had a horrified look on her face.
“ **No!** ”
We all shouted that word together, ignoring my brother who was upstairs and snapped at us to shut up. We couldn’t believe it. _I_ couldn’t believe it. Was there some God up above who just didn’t want me to enjoy seeing this game? Seriously, is this what is going to happen?
Neko was crying, probably believing that her Playstation was now broken while Michelle and Annie began to argue on whose fault it was that caused the system to freeze. I didn’t care who was at fault. I wasn’t going to be able to see the game, let alone play it.
Frustration and anger blinded me of common sense as I stood up, jumping over the table that was between me and the TV before I swung my fist towards the screen.
I expected to hear it fall back into the space behind the stand it was on or at least some pain since I’m not really that strong to begin with to even attempt such a thing. None of that happened.
What happened was something that I really didn’t think could be possible. My hand had went straight through the screen like it was like water, ripples being made when my limb entered inside. I heard my friends going silent, clearly looking at the predicament I was in now.
“Does your TV do that often?” I heard Neko ask me in which I responded with a quiet turn of my head from side to side. If it did, this was the first time I ever found out. |
449b1e1a7dbf4230bda4465302e0ea66 | ['e6897b8182f541ccabcd0209c88e1695'] | Root was back in less then three minutes, black pants and leather jacket in place, a gun in each hand. She watched while Root threw her left foot in the closest chair, tugging the smaller gun in the holster hidden under her pants, a smirk in her lips. Root was the image of danger and sexy and it usually made Shaw feel different levels of arousal, but not that day.
Shaw is not used to feel worried, but when she watches Root putting her gun in the waistband of her black pants there is this weird feeling in her guts and suddenly her mouth is dry and a bitter taste rush throught her tongue. Root walked over at her when she was done arming herself, throwing her arms in Shaw’s shouders and stepping between her legs. The shorter woman sighed, before letting a grin turn her lips up. Shaw dropped her arms to her sides, shaking her head when Root’s smile got wilder. She finally placed her hands in Root’s hips, accepting the intrusion on her personal space.
“See you at dinner, sweetie.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Shaw rolled her eyes, trying to sound bored, but failing miserably at it. “You better be here, because you’re paying.”
Root laughed. “I will be, don’t worry. I know not even death is going to release me from a promisse of buying food to you.” Shaw shrugged and the taller woman laughed again. “Bye.”
Shaw pulled her in at the same time Root started to get closer and they met midway, soft lips against soft lips. Root felt Shaw’s hands grabbing her hips a lit bit thigher, almost desesperate trying to keep her there, but didn’t said anything about it. When they took some space to breath, Root smiled happily.
“Hello.” She joked.
The smaller woman scoffed, barely resisting the urge to pinch Root’s sides. “Did you bumped your head when rolling off bed today?”
It was Root’s time to roll her eyes. “It only happened once.” She tried to take a step back, hearing The Machine starting to get a little impatient with how long she was taking to get out of her house. _Screw her_ , she thought, _I don’t get to see soft Shaw all the time_. But before she could finish her move, Shaw’s hand kept her in place and even pulled her just a few inches closer. The shock in her face made clear for Root that it was not a voluntary move.
Shaw cleared her throat, a pink tone in her cheeks, before releasing Root from her grip. She ran one hand throught her hair while placing the other one in the counter behind her. The hacker wanted to ask her what was going on, but she also knew that Shaw didn’t looked like she wanted to talk about it.
“Pizza?” She asked instead.
“Huh?” Shaw frowned and the taller woman smiled at how cute she looked.
“For dinner. Pizza?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Great.” Root clapped once and turned around, grabbing her phone from the table and throwing a last sad look to the eggs in the counter. “See you around, sweetie.”
“Root.” Shaw’s voice called her just when her foot had slidded in her boot.
Root looked over her shoulder, almost jumping away when she realized the shorter woman was much closer then she thought she was. “Yes, babe?”
“Take care.” Shaw’s face was quickly turning a deep shade of red, but Root was too busy to notice this, her jaws slacked in shock.
Finally, smiling as big as she could, Root walked back to Shaw, limping with only one boot on. She stoped in front of the other woman, not touching her, but close enough so they could feel the warmty in each other’s bodies. Root didn’t had to think twice before bending to kiss Shaw one more time.
“Always do, sweetie.” | 9e7e535ad6594f0aab23f52b855af355 | ['e6897b8182f541ccabcd0209c88e1695'] | Shaw had just handed the money to the girl when she felt someone slidding to stand by her side. She didn’t had to turn around to see who was it. Her body had a way to tell her when it wasn’t Root invading her personal space and she had learned to trust it after almost punching the other woman in her chin. Not turning around while the girl moved her hand around the registrator to find her change, Shaw handed one cup to Root, before slidding the bag with the donut towards her.
Putting her 0,05c back in her pocket, Shaw grabbed her own coffee and finally turned around to leave, trying not to think how Root always seemed to take her breath away. Root waited until they were outside – a rarity – before saying anything.
“Good morning, sweetie.”
Shaw drank half her cup before replying, keeping her eyes fixed ahead. “How was it?”
She didn’t had to turn around to know that Root had a gentle smile on her face. Much of their job was to observe, so Shaw knew that it was a kind of smile that the hacker gave only to her and it was never easy to ignore how her chest seemed a little bit tighter when she saw it.
“Ah, the normal. Some shots here and there.” Root let go a chuckle, finally sipping in her cup. Shaw knew it tasted like shit, but Root didn’t say a thing about it. “You didn’t miss anything fun.”
“Would hate the opportunity to shoot someone.” Shaw tried not to show too much interest while Root opened the donut bag and took a bit of it. The coffee was shit, but their donut was actually pretty good.
“Thank you for breakfest, sweetie.” The other woman used that tone that made something inside Shaw ignite. It was a mix between sarcasm, used only to piss her off, and sincerity, that made her more confused than the sarcasm thing. Root used that voice when Shaw did something she found cute.
_I kill people, I’m not cute and I don’t do anything cute_. Shaw almost growled to herself. Instead of answering – because she never knew what to say when she was spoken to like that – Shaw made a turn around to cross the street. They were just two blocks from the subway now.
“Did you just got back?” Shaw drank what was left from her coffee and threw the plastic cup in the trash can.
“Yep, just out of the train.” Root took another bit from the donut, shaking her head up and down to add some affect in her answer. Shaw wanted to ask her where she was that she took a train back, but choose to bit her tongue instead. “Want a bite?” The hacker asked, already moving the bag towards Shaw.
Not the one to recuse food, the shorter woman took a large bite out of the donut, ignoring Root’s smile, not stoping her walk. “You should go rest.”
“I will, I’m just walking you to work, sweetie.” Root bumped their shoulders together, making Shaw roll her eyes.
“You will have to go back three blocks.”
Root shrugged, finishing the donut and sipping her coffee. “Don’t mind.”
Shaw had to bite her cheek to stop a smile when she saw the woman’s face when she dranked the coffee, but, again, Root didn’t said a thing about it. “Did you like it?”
She almost missed the quick frown in Root’s face. “Yeah, it’s good.”
“For someone who had used like a thousand different identities, you are a terrible lier.” The former marine actually chuckled to that, bringind a bright smile to Root’s lips.
“Maybe you just know me too well.” Root fired back, throwing the cup in the next garbage can that crossed their way. “But yes, breakfast in on me tomorrow.”
“You know I will not let you forget that you just promissed me food.” Shaw could see the subway entrancy already.
The taller woman laughed delighted, shaking her head while slowing down her pace, bringind both of them to a stop just a few feets from the woman’s final destination. “I hope you don’t, I didn’t say what we’re going to eat after all.” Her wink only made Shaw blush a deeper shade of red. “See you later, sweetie.” Root took a step foward, bringing her hands to rest in Shaw’s shoulders to stop her to take a step back unconcionsly. “Have a nice day at work.” She kissed Shaw’s lips before the other woman could react and was out of her personal space before the shorter woman could punch her in the face.
Shaw was stuck in place for a couple of seconds, watching, like it was a movie right in front of her eyes, how Root’s smile almost reached her ears when she took one step back, then another one, then another one, then another one, before turning around and walking away in the direction they had just came from. Shaw shook her head to clean her thoughts, finally turning to enter the subway. She would never say it aloud, but it was worth it to go a day or two without coffee. |
fdbdfe96e5de40728809c8dd033523b4 | ['e68f232f837648d481bbc98529d8708a'] | The thrusters of Daichi’s maneuver harness fire briefly as he pivots, fixing Kageyama with a long, searching stare. Just when it starts to feel uncomfortable, he pivots back toward the station. “Don’t take too long, Kageyama-san.”
Kageyama gently pushes off the X-40, activating his mag-boots when close enough to one of the station’s modules. He doesn’t have a maneuver harness, but the tether at his waist stretches aimlessly back toward the airlock. He stands, watching the sun set over Europe. The lights of Japan sparkle above him. Further south, in the darkness, the typhoon continues to spin soundlessly in the Pacific.
It really is a view to savor. Larger, more vast than he ever thought it would be: an entire planet, holding billions upon billions of lives...sleeping, laughing, loving...
He wonders if he’ll ever really be able to love again. His therapist keeps saying so (or did, until Kageyama nearly decked him). The idea of it is still too absurd for him to grasp. He looks up at the earth again. An entire planet...an entire world...without Hinata Shouyou. That’s even more absurd.
How many billions of years did it take? How many random chemical interactions? How many coincidences and improbable interactions throughout the history of the universe did it take to generate a radiant boy named Hinata Shouyou? Surely, such a being, such an improbable, amazing being, couldn’t be so fragile? And yet, gone, in an instant. Gone, in the space of an afternoon drive. Gone, without even a last chance to say goodbye. But then, this is why he’s here, isn’t it?
Kageyama reaches for the velcro pouch at his belt. The flat, volleyball-inscribed locket is only a dull pressure through his gloves. He can’t feel the indentations. He dares not open the locket. It’s fitting, that it never be opened again. Inside, the last lock of hair of the only boy he’s ever loved. Captured in the picture within, Kageyama will hold Hinata Shouyou in his arms forever. There's a kind of immortality in that. Some sliver of the eternal, for the both of them.
Slowly, Kageyama lifts the locket back, tenses.
A minute passes. Two. His arm is frozen. When he lets go, it will be for real. It will be forever. No take backs. His last connection to Shouyou, gone.
_Is this really okay?_
_Shouyou...what should I do?_
His heart is a twin to the typhoon below, twisting. Suga’s words are ripping at him _(“...you can’t keep clinging...this isn’t healthy...”)_ , the pitying stares of his teammates and friends whirling before his eyes, the blunt analysis of his therapist, the pull of cinnamon-apple incense...Hinata looking over his shoulder, grinning _(“hurry up, Bakayama!”)._ His smile in monochrome, staring back out at him from the memorial.
And that’s it. That’s the center of this storm: in his secret heart, the irrational hope that if he only ran fast enough, reached fervently enough, yearned strongly enough, that somehow, some way, he could catch up, he could hold Shouyou in his arms again. That the world could somehow take back one lost soul, that they could somehow make their way back to each other, to that night of endless falling stars.
But there is nobody there to reach. There is no longer anyone there to catch. Accepting those truths, that’s what Suga meant. That’s what it will take, to unbind this storm. That is what this moment is really about.
His eyes close. His arm stretches out. No longer to reach, or to catch. To let go.
“Ah!” As soon as the locket leaves his hand his heart is lurching – _no! no no no!–_ but it’s still not too far away, it’s not too late, all he has to do is unhook and push off and–
A firm hand grips his shoulder and he startles, looking back. Sawamura Daichi’s stare is firm, but his voice is soft.
“Tobio...let him go.”
Kageyama strains for just a few seconds more against Daichi’s rock solid grip, then collapses on himself, tension leaving him.
“Yeah. Yeah.” He suddenly feels exhausted, and very very small.
They stay like that for several minutes, Daichi standing vigil as Kageyama watches the flash of the spinning silver drift away. A lock of the softest hair that he will never touch again. Hinata’s scent, gone...
Faintly, in his head, he hears the roar of the crowd...sharp whistles signaling game point, Karasuno shouting victory, and in the middle, he can see Hinata...fists balled up and eyes scrunched shut with emotion as he shouts his joy. His cheeks are flushed, and his smile, radiant. Blinding. But then he’s fading...fading...and then he’s gone. The court empty. Even the echo of the crowd dies at last.
_I love you, Hinata Shouyou. I always will. I miss you so very much..._
He can no longer see the locket. It’s out there, somewhere, drifting in the dark. Maybe someday, years from now it will tumble back toward earth. He thinks Shouyou would have liked that: becoming a falling star, a burning wish, in the night sky.
He isn’t sure what he’s supposed to feel anymore, inside. Everything is just...dull. Numb. Daichi takes him gently by the arm and together they float toward the airlock.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Made the decision to split this chapter in two, looking at 6 chapters total, now.
>
> And yes, I am aware I named it "Final Haiku Quest". The actual Final Haikyuu Quest only has that name for meta reasons, and all volleyball references are also meta. The game in this story has nothing to do with volleyball, and is entirely a classic style JRPG, thus the name change. And Kenma would have had the decency to at least change names of the characters, before submitting his ideas.
5. In Which We Once Touched The Sky
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Once, we were inseparable.
>
> Once, we were invincible.
>
> Once, we touched the sky.
**Notes for the Chapter:** | 20313ec6199143c1afe56d77bd4c010d | ['e68f232f837648d481bbc98529d8708a'] | A frantic encounter theme and enthusiastic battle cries fade into the distance, replaced by the hum of the hydroponics as he passes through. He finds he can breathe a little easier, in the arboretum. There are only a few trees in the spacious module, engineered for low-water use and high O2 replenishment. He drifts over to one, sets himself on one of the branches. He wonders if crows feel like this, perched so seemingly high up, fearless of falling.
Falling...
From the dialog, Yaku seemed to be only a few hours in. Likely near the part where the hero trips and falls from a cliff, only to be rescued and healed by Zemma, the mysterious wandering white mage with the neko staff. He played it several years back, when it was new, forewarned by Kuroo of the uncanny resemblances (after all, it did start out as Kenma’s own form of therapy, many years ago). And for a while, it was entertaining. Nostalgic. Funny, at times (he remembers falling from the couch crying with laughter when he recognized the Grand Demon King). Often eerily accurate, the amusing, borderline-flirting arguments between the hero Hiruma and the the ranger Kagame. Several hours in, he thought he could see its therapeutic value. Playing through, facing demons and danger: Kuroo and Kenma, Kageyama and Hinata. Despite the fantasy setting, it felt like old times. It felt warm.
And then he stumbled upon one of the bad ends: Hiruma frozen to death, in the snow. Kageme finding him, holding his still body in his arms, weeping. Kageyama had let out a cry, thrown his PSP into a wall where it shattered to pieces. He hadn’t touched the game since.
Later, when he asked about it, why Kenma would add such a thing into the game, Kuroo explained it was probably something added on by the staff, later. Even if Kenma had the original idea and created the base story and characters, this was an Atlas RPG, put together by an entire team of writers and programmers. Of course there would be scenes Kenma would never have imagined or intended. Mostly in good ways. Mostly.
He thinks next time he talks to Yaku, he’ll ask him to wear headphones.
_–Kageyama?–_
Kageyama looks up, locating the intercom system and the nearest camera. in the corner.
“Suga. I keep forgetting you’re up here with us, in a manner of speaking. Is anything the matter?”
_–I was going to ask the same thing. You didn’t get any sleep last night.–_
“You peeked.” But of course there’s no expectation of privacy, when he’s up here.
_–I checked your vitals last night, noticed you were still conscious, THEN peeked. Tobio...are you okay?–_
He considers lying. Though with Suga, that’s not likely to get very far.
“There’s a lot on my mind. Things you can’t outrun, even by blasting into orbit.”
_–The world keeps turning, Tobio. Life moves on. Whether at sea level or 400 klicks up, you need to learn to move on too.–_
"That's easy for you to say, Suga. If it were Daichi instead–"
_–Kageyama!–_ Even before Suga's harsh warning is out, even before the words leave his mouth, he wishes he could take them back, and he's wincing.
"I'm...I apologize, Suga, that– I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry, I'm just a bit rattled this morning."
_–Does this have something to do with Yaku's game?–_
"How did you– right...cameras in the kitchen too." Suga doesn't answer. "It just hit a little close to home. That's all."
_–Are you still up for the CRV switchout this afternoon? It is your first spacewalk, we can always push it ba–_
“I’ll be fine, Suga. We both know there’s something important I have to do out there anyway. No point in delaying it.”
* * *
Several hours later, the NASA X-40 CRV is docked with the JSS, and the older Soyuz TMA capsule safely stowed in the Hinomaru’s cargo bay. He can see Yaku inside the new escape vessel, humming as he finishes diagnostics and system tests. At least Kageyama assumes he’s still humming. He had muted Yaku’s signal shortly after he lost all hope of Yaku getting into the right key.
“Quite the piece of science fiction, isn’t it?” Daichi is quietly admiring the sleek return vehicle.
“A big step up from the Soyuz. I’ve always preferred the idea of a leisurely glide back to the ground rather than dropping like a rock.”
“Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it. It’s got a certain charm to it, truth to tell.”
“You’ve ridden one of these things back, Sawamura-san?” Kageyama points over his shoulder at the still-docked secondary Soyuz capsule, twin to the one in the Hinomaru’s hold.
“Once. About 3 years back, my third time up. The Russians were about to launch a replacement anyway, and one needed to come down. If you’ve ever wanted to know how it feels to be one of those cartoon falling anvils, there’s no better simulator.” Daichi finishes his inspection on the port side, gives a thumbs up to Yaku as he floats by the cockpit window.
“You’re not exactly making your case, Commander.” Kageyama likewise gives Yaku the ok for starboard.
“I won’t try to convince you that it’s enjoyable. But it is historic. There’s only a few of those rust buckets left. After this it’s all sleek and chrome, all sci-fi. Even the Hinomaru and Tsukimaru are starting to show their age.”
“Ah, speaking of which, the heat shield repairs?”
“We’ll start on that tomorrow, no sense pushing ourselves.” *click* “Kuroo-san, Sawamura. I think we’re done here. Permission to return?”
_–Copy, Sawamura-san, you are go for reentry at airlock 3.–_
Kageyama hangs back. “I’ll follow shortly, Commander. It’s my first time up, I’d like to savor the view for just a little longer.” |
cfbb5406709a4e2b9533f82a72e15c24 | ['e694221a57534dddbadaf7bf6405d0cc'] | “Do what?” Dazai asked quietly. Atsushi could feel his eyes trapping him, but he couldn’t muster up the courage to look back at him. “Just, get it over with. I’m really grateful that you’re trying to lighten the mood, but I know what your answer is going to be. So, please, just say it already.”
Atsushi squeezed his eyes shut, where tears prickled. He waited, and waited, but no words came from Dazai. Instead, the man reached out and grabbed one of Atsushi’s hands. He peeled the fingers from where Atsushi was clasping the sheets and intertwined them with his own. “Okay,” he said softly, and brought Atsushi’s hands to his lips. He pressed a kiss to Atsushi’s index finger. The younger man stiffened, peering at Dazai with glassy eyes.
“I like you too, Atsushi Nakajima,” he mumbled against Atsushi’s hands.
“Oh,” Atsushi breathed. Unlike all the other times, realization washed over him steadily. Nothing hit him harshly this time, it was just the calm, steady recognition that Dazai was returning his sentiments. Well, that was his brain. His heart exploded into a thousand lilies, tickling Atsushi’s stomach until he felt like laughing madly, dancing in an open field, and being under a starry night filled with fireworks. “ _Oh_.”
“In fact, I was trying to hint it to you all this time,” Dazai elaborated, and his expression shifted to amused. “In that abandoned house last week, for example. Other instances as well. I took on that case about lost kittens as well, because I hoped it would catch your eye.”
“You were trying to flirt me?” Atsushi questioned, tilting his head to the side and raising an eyebrow. “And they did catch my eye, by the way! But I see not in the way you expected me to.”
“Sort of. Note for later then, ‘be more straightforward with Atsushi-kun’.”
Atsushi cringed, because Dazai being more straightforward could mean plenty of embarrassing situations. Nonetheless, he nodded. “If you want to get your point across, that would help me greatly, yeah.”
Dazai grinned, pressing another kiss to Atsushi’s knuckles. Atsushi bit his lip and averted his gaze, but for other reasons than before. A warm blush adorned his face, but he wasn’t the only one who had a red face. The tips of Dazai’s ears were also tinted pink. “So, to be frank already,” Dazai spoke up, breaking the silence after his confession. He cleared his throat and rubbed his free hand up and down his thigh, a self-conscious move. “Can I kiss you?”
Atsushi blinked, but with a grin, he leaned forward and grabbed Dazai by his front of his tie and pulled him towards himself. Dazai made a small, surprised noise when Atsushi’s mouth enclosed over his own. Within a matter of seconds though, his hand crept up to cup the younger man’s face and kiss him back fervently.
It ended far too soon in Dazai’s opinion. Atsushi pulled back and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve never really kissed anyone before, so I hope that was okay.”
“More than okay, and don’t worry about it. If you want to practise, I’m your guy,” Dazai replied, leaning forward to steal another kiss from Atsushi. The boy, in response, was getting redder than a tomato and let out an embarrassed squeak.
“Sorry for yelling you in the office before, by the way,” Atsushi apologized, frowning in worry.
“Doesn’t matter, it let to this anyway,” Dazai said, shrugging. He plopped down and rested his head on Atsushi’s lap, wiggling a little bit to make himself comfortable. “Speaking of offices, let’s pretend you’re still feeling sick, so I don’t have to go to up to work. It’s boring without you anyway, and if I harass Kunikida-kun, he might faint too.”
“So, you finally acknowledge that you do harass people,” Atsushi commented dryly, placing his hand on Dazai’s head and drawing circles in his hair.
Dazai hummed. “You call it harassing, I call it helping people train their focus.”
* * *
“And that’s the story of how Atsushi-kun and I became a couple! Interesting, huh?” Dazai clapped his hands together, smiling broadly at the three cats situated before him. The cats, one entirely black, the other entirely white, and the last one striped like a tiger stared up at him with a distant gaze.
“Meow,” they said.
“I wholeheartedly agree. It’s truly a magnificent love story!” Dazai laughed, he petted them each on their tiny heads.
“Are you telling the cats stories again, Osamu-san?” Atsushi remarked, entering the room with his hands stuffed in his pockets. When Dazai glanced at his husband, wearing one of his shirts again, he whistled. Atsushi rolled his eyes, but the older still noticed his flustered smile.
“Of course,” Dazai admitted smoothly, “they need to be updated on whatever shenanigans we did. It’s important that they know this,” he said.
“They don’t understand you,” Atsushi pointed out, shaking his head at Dazai’s antics.
“Yes, they do,” Dazai countered stubbornly, “I convinced Fukuzawa to teach me how to speak cat. I daresay I’m mastered in the art of it, but not as much as the master himself, of course. Besides, I can talk to you too, right?”
Atsushi groaned, placing a hand on his forehead. “I’m not a cat, Osamu-san, I’m a tiger. But forget about that, I came here to say that dinner’s ready.”
Dazai perked up, in tune with their three cats, who looked far more interested now. “Crab?” He asked eagerly. Atsushi nodded, allowing himself to smile at his husband’s glee expression. Dazai stood up and kissed both Atsushi’s cheeks. “I love Atsushi-kun, and Atsushi-kun only,” he swore, “you are the best spouse I’ve ever had.”
“Thanks—wait a second, I’m your first and only spouse.” Atsushi narrowed his eyes. “Right?”
“Of course, love, is that not what I said?”
“But you implied that—oh nevermind. Let’s go eat before the food becomes cold.”
**Author's Note:**
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
>
> please feed me with comments and kudos
>
> LINK | c593e1987d884154b7c56bea3af3df98 | ['e694221a57534dddbadaf7bf6405d0cc'] | Someone knocks. Atsuko shoots up. That must be Kyouka, coming to pick something up. But why would she knock? She has her keys, after all. By the time Atsuko has processed these thoughts, she’s already opening the door—only to be greeted by a tall, rather handsome man with brown hair, grinning dumbly at her. “Good evening, Atsuko-kun!” He greets enthusiastically.
Atsuko’s mouth falls open. No, no, no, _no_. This is not the distraction she was hoping for.
“Oh. D-Dazai-san. It’s you! Hi there,” she stammers. “What are you, um, doing here?” She peers behind him, see if he’s not alone, because that’d be substantially better.
Unfortunately, no higher being has blessed her. Her mentor casually strolls past her into her apartment, disregarding the fact that she hadn't invited him in. Because Atsuko was _so not_ going to invite him in.
“I wanted to talk to you,” he tells her once she’s joined him in the living room, where he’s already situated. Atsuko refuses to sit with him and leans on the kitchen counter. “Okay,” she relents, mostly because she has no choice to talk with him now. “What is it about?” She asks, nervously drumming her fingers on the kitchen counter’s surface. _And can you please leave as fast as possible?_
Dazai is taking his time, bending over to look at her tea as if it’s a new invention. Steam blows in his face, but even so he takes a sip of _her_ tea. “Wow! Atsuko-kun, this is really sweet—how much sugar cubes did you put in it? A dozen?”
“A lot,” Atsuko admits sheepishly. Then she collects herself and frowns, placing a hand on her hip. For how much that’s possible after he’s barged into her room unannounced and uninvited. If he insisted on talking with her, he could’ve at least told her, so she could’ve prepared. “But you shouldn’t drink my tea, you know?”
“And you shouldn’t avoid your co-worker so desperately,” Dazai casually mentions, taking another sip from her drink. “I’m not the one who jumped out of a window or ran through a dirty alley to avoid a simple talk.”
_Ah_ , Atsuko thinks, _so that’s what this talk is going to be about._ Her heart sinks to her stomach. She’s definitely not ready for this conversation, and absolutely not with the man in question. She rocks and back forth on her heels, fiddling with her fingers. His eyes are too hard to meet, so she opts for looking at a stain in the wall.
“It’s not what you think,” Atsuko says, way too fast to be believable. She swallows, taking her time to properly formulate her following words, “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t mean to avoid you or anything. I was just really busy,” she explains. Dazai is quiet, a contemplative expression on his face.
“I didn’t realize I was avoiding you,” she tentatively adds. Blood pulses under her skin. Dazai turns to look at her in the dim light of her room and her heart skips a beat.
“Hmmm,” Dazai hums. “It’s kind of obvious, isn’t it?”
“What’s obvious?” Atsuko asks, her stomach churning uneasily. The smile that forms on her face is too wide, too fake. “There’s nothing obvious to me here.”
Dazai has the guts to laugh, a deep sound from the back of his throat that is more pleasant that it should be. He’s coming closer, closer and closer. “Oh, Atsuko-kun,” he murmurs. “You’re such a bad liar.”
_You can’t do that; you just came in! You should’ve at least first made small-talk. Why can’t you dance around the topic like you always do?_
He’s close, so very close now, like, one-more-inch-and-we’re-making-out close. Too close, in case the point didn’t get across. Atsuko knows that. Dazai knows that.
And everything about Dazai is driving Atsuko _insane_ , has been driving her insane for the past few weeks. Every time she fleshes out her feelings to search for a silver lining that _hey, maybe she’s not in love with Dazai_ , all she’s left with is the thumping awareness that she _still_ is.
It’s no wonder Ranpo once took her aside and told her she should get better taste. No matter how much she desperately tries—it’s always Dazai. It’s always the man who saved her. And her ochazuke.
And to say this all in one sentence, “You caught my ochazuke,” she blurts out.
Dazai pauses. “I did,” he confirms, furrowing his eyebrows together in confusion. “Once. Um, what about it?”
“What about it? _Everything_ ,” Atsuko replies, nearly whining. “It’s why I’ve been doing all the things I’ve been doing.” There’s a mourning note in her voice. “Everyone knows, don’t they? That’s why they’ve been giving me all those pitying looks lately. Because it’s you. And I can’t blame them, because I’m also giving myself pitying looks. At least no one’s confronted me yet, I don’t think I could survive that.”
Dazai looks sheepish, for some reason. “For the record, I don’t think Kunikida knows.”
“And I don’t want him to know!” Atsuko cries out. Gesturing wildly, she continues, “I didn’t want anyone to know because it’s so stupid. Who falls in love with their superior because they saved her ochazuke? Only a stupid fool like myself would do something like that.” She pinches the bridge of her nose, scrunched up in frustration.
Dazai, for all his faults, looks slightly taken aback. “Do you hate it so much, then?” He asks quietly. And that’s when it hits Atsuko.
“No!” She exclaims, raising her hands and shaking them violently. “I mean, it’s bad, but like, not that bad, really. Anyway, it was all so new for me and I didn’t know how to cope with it, haha...” She shifts her weight from one foot to another, trailing off awkwardly. Dazai face is blank, he’s merely watching her with an inscrutable expression. |
91cfd6d9efd04cbca04a429aab7f61fa | ['e6bb2411034749e6ae7133520fca3c98'] | “I really hate to cut this short,” she says as Brianna tucks her wallet back into her pocket. “But my next class starts in fifteen minutes and we're at least that far from campus.”
“Oh, fuck,” Brianna swears, grabbing her keys from her pocket and standing up quickly from the booth. Regina is almost surprised to hear the word. Not that she thought Brianna was a prude, but she somehow seems so much more refined than most people that Regina knows that hearing her curse sounds almost incongruous. “Suppose I'll have to drive fast,” Brianna says as they get into the car, Regina barely having time to buckle her seat belt before they're pulling out and heading back towards the school.
“You won't hear any complaints from me,” Regina says, opening the sun roof again without asking permission this time, digging her own sunnies out of her bag and putting them on as Brianna gets hers from where she'd left them earlier in the cup holder. “I love fast cars and driving. I think I'd spend most of my time in a car if I could.”
“This is going to sound incredibly nerdy,” Brianna says, easily taking the curves in the road at a speed that makes Regina's blood rush in her veins. “But that's basically how I feel about stargazing.”
“It's not nerdy, that's beautiful,” Regina protests. “Sometimes I feel like the only time I bother to appreciate nature is when I get to go to the beach.”
“Nothing wrong with the beach either, though I tend to burn more quickly than most,” Brianna says, and they spend the rest of the short drive discussing vacations they'd like to go on if they had the chance.
Brianna drives directly on to campus, asking Regina which building her class is in and dropping her off as close to the front door as she can, Regina thanking her for lunch and for the ride as she stands by the car and puts her backpack on. Brianna waves goodbye, saying again that it was the least she could do in thanks for Regina's help and that she'll see her in class the following week.
In the end Regina is about three minutes late to her class, but nobody really seems to care, including the professor, so she doesn't bother feeling bad about it in the slightest. It's only halfway through the class when she realizes that she never got Brianna's phone number that she finds anything at all to regret about the way she spent her morning.
3. Chapter 3
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Please take note that the rating has gone up, this chapter is rated M.
Regina spends the rest of the week trying in vain to locate Brianna on literally any social media platforms. Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Snapchat, all of them are dead ends when she tries searching Brianna's name, and even when she manages to locate other people in the astrophysics department, she doesn't seem to be linked on their profiles either. Halfway through the week it occurs to her to check the syllabus for the course, but it only lists Professor Ring's information, and Brianna had been in such a rush during their first class that she hadn't even taken roll, let alone remembered to give them her contact information.
All that combined means that Regina spends the entire week just thinking about the time they spent together and waiting impatiently for the next time she gets to see Brianna. She kills the time with other classes and hanging out with her friends, of course, but she also finds herself studying her physics book much more carefully than she ever expected to, marveling at how smart Brianna must be to be pursuing a doctorate in this stuff. By the time class finally rolls around again, she's not only excited to see Brianna just for herself, but also ready to actually participate in the class discussion.
She gets to class five minutes early in her excitement, and Brianna comes in a minute later, looking much more relaxed and less harried with all of her things tucked into the bag that Regina helped her pick out. She gives Regina a smile as she lays the bag down on her desk and starts removing the supplies she needs for the class, and even though it was subtle and she's sure nobody else noticed it, the look makes Regina blush. She shifts in her chair, tucking her hair behind her ear and biting at her lip.
It's almost ridiculous how much Brianna gets to her just by being herself; how she manages to get Regina so worked up without even trying. Regina has slept with quite a few people of quite a few genders, but she can't remember ever feeling like this about someone, and especially not about someone she barely knows. There's something about Brianna that just gets to her, and she'd rather go with it than question it.
As class picks up, Regina makes sure to answer questions and give her reactions to the assigned reading, something which she's happy to note that Brianna seems incredibly pleased about. Every time she answers something correctly or makes a good observation, Brianna turns that bright smile on her, usually with a “good job!” or “great point!” or some other encouragement, and Regina just hopes that it's not glaringly obvious how much the feedback makes her want to squirm in the best possible way. She's always been a sucker for a bit of praise – there are few things she likes more than someone telling her how good she is, both in and out of the bedroom – and now that Brianna has unintentionally stumbled into that territory, Regina is fighting to keep her thoughts on the class and not let them drift away into what it might be like to hear Brianna's “good job” turn into “good girl.” | 381a7e39b59c4ddc9e4ca884b3430704 | ['e6bb2411034749e6ae7133520fca3c98'] | Benny listens for a few minutes, laughing a little to himself at the thought that Usnavi’s “punishment” isn’t really much of one. Sure, he’d much rather be in there making Usnavi make those sounds, but even from out here he still gets to hear him, and the noises could probably be enough to let Benny get himself off too, if he lets them. He’s starting to consider getting a hand on himself, maybe just through his sweatpants, when Usnavi’s moans suddenly switch over to words and Benny hears him groan out “ohhh, fuck, _Vanessa_.”
Benny sits up so fast he almost gives himself vertigo, eyes wide as he stares in the direction of the bedroom. _That little shit,_ Benny thinks, shaking his head. In the bedroom, Usnavi continues, uncaring of Benny’s reaction as he shouts unashamedly, “God, Vanessa, yes, just like that!”
Benny eventually lays back down, laces his fingers together over his stomach and stares at the ceiling with a tick in his jaw, just listening and refusing to react while Usnavi drives himself crazy in the bedroom and calls out to “Vanessa” over and over again, yelling about how sexy she is and how good she makes him feel even though he’s alone, really. Benny lays there and listens to it all, biding his time and, if he’s being honest, getting more and more bothered by it the longer it goes on. Of course Usnavi has a right to be upset if that’s how he’s feeling, but teasing, denying, and trying to punish Benny in a sexual way when they’ve more than agreed that it’s Benny who’s in charge in the bedroom? Yeah, that’s not gonna fly for long if Benny has anything to say about it.
So he waits patiently until Usnavi’s sounds have stopped – he must have let himself come, finally, having either tired himself out or decided that Benny’s been thoroughly punished – and then pushes himself up off the couch and goes into the kitchen, searching around in one of the bottom cabinets under the sink until he finds the little toolbox he keeps for repairs around the house. He carries it down the hallway with him, determined, digs out the electric screwdriver, and sets to work taking the knob completely off the door. If Usnavi wants to try and bruise Benny’s ego, that’s fine. Benny’s more than capable of playing the game.
—
Usnavi’s lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and starting to feel a sense of mild embarrassment and regret sneaking in to war with the annoyance he’s still harboring over Benny comparing him to their obnoxious upstairs neighbors.
Like, okay, stomping off to their bedroom to lock Benny out and make him sleep on the couch for the night? They could have gotten over that easily tomorrow morning just by both of them apologizing and then moving on. Locking himself in the bedroom and jerking off while yelling his ex’s name so that Benny would have to hear it? Probably going to be a little more difficult to deal with the aftermath of that, if Usnavi’s guessing. He and Benny don’t really extend their dynamic outside of the bedroom very often, and generally speaking Usnavi is usually obedient and quiet, with Benny’s authority not having to really be exercised because the mere thought of it is enough to keep him in line. The longer Usnavi lays here alone thinking back on what exactly he just did, the more he’s starting to realize that there’s probably going to have to be some kind of punishment for this; he’s not going to be able to just say sorry and have it be over with.
Usnavi’s so preoccupied worrying over all the different ways that this situation might end up being resolved that it takes him a lot longer than it should to react when he hears some kind of whirring noise and the knob on the bedroom door starts shaking. By the time he sits up and actually tries to figure out what’s going on, the doorknob is falling completely away and the door is opening, parting to allow Benny into the room. Usnavi watches as Benny pushes the door open as far as it will go, then sets his toolbox down in front of it to keep it there. Benny then leaves the room again, all without having said a word to Usnavi, and Usnavi spends a frantic moment trying to decide if he should stay here and wait to see if Benny comes back or if he should follow him.
He doesn’t really get a chance to make a decision one way or another before there are footsteps returning back towards the bedroom, and Benny comes back into the room carrying a chair from their kitchen table. Usnavi watches him carry the chair across the room and set it down at the foot of the bed, then sit down in it and stare at Usnavi for a long moment, expression totally unreadable.
Usnavi opens his mouth to say something, although he’s not entirely sure what he’s planning to say – probably some form of apology, or maybe a question of what exactly Benny’s doing – but Benny shakes his head and Usnavi’s mouth snaps closed on instinct. And then Benny reaches down and starts stroking himself through his sweatpants. |
f5caf30b59514d6ebf69ad2280437111 | ['e6bf0de618934cd5a6713b48cd7604a5'] | "Splendid work my friend! So tell me, what do you think he is, hm?" Joseph asks, clasping a heavy hand against Abdul's broad shoulders.
“I believe he's like you Mr. Joestar. He's a Werewolf. His strength and speed seem to indicate that, as well as the body language of his fighting. We won't know for sure until the next full moon, but based on your powers and the history of your family I believe it's very likely he suffers from lycanthropy as well."
"A proud Joestar man! I knew he had it in him. Congrats Jotaro! You're a wolf!" Joseph exclaims before mimicking a cheesy wolf howl. Jotaro grits his teeth. How can they be so fucking calm about this? Enough to even joke about it!?
"Alright you all need to shut the fuck up and explain yourselves. What the fuck does that even _mean_? Werewolves and monsters don't exist, what the hell are you saying that I'm suddenly a Werewolf?" Jotaro was growing more agitated by the minute. It was bad enough that Abdul had made a fool of him in their fight, but now they're just patronizing him with stupid fairy tales. This whole scenario can't be real. Abdul's shifting had to be a trick of some sort. His sudden transformations had to have an explanation.
"Well then! Today is a great day for you Jotaro! Let me be the first to tell you that everything you know is a lie! Monsters exist. Conspiracy theories are real! Aliens are real and we've been invaded! Anyway, the point is, you're a Werewolf. You'll shift when the moon is full and become a huge furry monster just like me! We'll get you all adjusted, so there's nothing to worry about. At least you're prepared, unlike I was! I'll have you know that when I went through my first unexpected transformation it sure did shave a few years off of my poor Suzie Q!" Joseph laughs heartily, clapping Jotaro on the back. Jotaro is sure he's never been so agitated in his entire life.
"You sound like you're proud of scaring your wife half to death, bastard."
"Ah Jotaro when you're with someone for as long as we've been together you learn how to have fun and make jokes! You'd do well to loosen up." Joseph's overbearing shoulder pat nearly knocks the wind out of him as he passes. Jotaro sighs but follows his grandfather out of the building.
"Don't worry Jotaro. We'll get you up to speed. We're honestly here to help you, you know. We'll all go have some tea with Holly and speak about this later, okay? I promise, you'll know the whole story soon enough."
***
The group is seated at a small tea shop near the Kujo estate. They've been discussing Jotaro's new “condition” and explaining the origins of it. Jotaro is still frustrated, but has calmed down considerably after having a cup of tea and finally getting some real answers.
"So this DIO guy. Is a vampire. And he cursed our ancestor with lycanthropy?" Jotaro recaps, taking a large swig of his tea.
"That's the basics of the story, yes.”
"Why did no one else get it until now? Why weren't we born with it?"
"Abdul and I believe it has to do with the nature of the curse. DIO utilized an ancient blood curse to inflict the disease upon us. He used his own blood to activate it, so our curse is completely tied to him. Since DIO had no intention of letting Jonathan live past him, he probably didn’t care about any loopholes. He never predicted that Jonathan would have descendants, so the fact that the curse was linked to his presence was irrelevant.”
“So basically without DIO around, we never would have developed it. It would’ve just stayed dormant until he decided to show up and ruin our lives.”
“Precisely. I believe that without DIO around, the lycanthropy couldn't trigger. It's awoken inside of us now because the bastard vampire has woken up from his ocean nap. Someone pulled his coffin from the sea and now he's on the loose again. What he wants, no one knows. But it can't be good. Our family has lost too many good people to DIO and the vampires he’s created."
"So what's the plan? Are we going after him?"
"We can’t. We have no idea where he is at the moment. We'll have to wait and see what he's planning before making any rash decisions. DIO is a prideful, arrogant prick. He'll certainly beckon us when he decides to finish our little family feud."
***
The next day Jotaro feels more confused than ever. He's so annoyed. His head is pounding. He just wants to sleep for the next hundred years. However, school exists and unfortunately that means Jotaro cannot sleep for a hundred years and instead has to attend classes he's sure he'll never even need. He packs up his school bag, and slings it over his shoulder before letting his clingy mother say goodbye. He hates how clingy she is, he hates how affectionate she is towards him. He calls her a bitch; a son like that doesn't deserve to be coddled. He's seventeen now; it's not right for a proper man to be babied by his mother at that age. Honestly, Jotaro has no idea why he even humors her antics anymore. All of this runs through his mind as he ducks down to let his mother kiss his cheek goodbye, just like he does every day. He turns away sharply on his heels, pulling his hat over his eyes.
On his way to school he's assaulted by the normal flock of girls, seemingly intent on doing nothing more than making his life more miserable. They're so loud and so obnoxious. He doesn't know any of their names. He doesn't want to. He just wants them to leave but no matter what he tries they come crawling back like cockroaches. | 34324134aedc48299f8cf7e2be4df7ce | ['e6bf0de618934cd5a6713b48cd7604a5'] | Noriaki smiles and kisses him again, with a little more force this time. Noriaki dares to nip at Jotaro's bottom lip, earning a huff in return. Nevertheless, Jotaro reciprocates, opening his mouth wider, forcing his tongue deeper into Noriaki's wide mouth. Neither of them have any idea what they're really doing, but Noriaki wants to touch him more. They want to be touched so badly.
Noriaki lets themselves be pushed down against the soft of the mattress below. Jotaro is straddling them, legs bracing against their thighs. Noriaki finally lets go of Jotaro's hair, reaching down to pull the soft fabric of Jotaro's shirt up and off of his body. Jotaro shrugs his shirt off, tossing it aside before moving down to the buttons of Noriaki's dress shirt. His hands are shaking, as if he doesn't trust his own body to do such a simple task. He stops at the second button, noticing Noriaki's binder peeking out beneath. Noriaki sees his hesitation, and guides their hands back to the buttons, helping him undress them.
"Are you sure this is okay?"
"Yeah... I'm okay."
They finally shrug their shirt off from their shoulders, letting the fabric flutter to the bed behind them.
"I do... want to keep this on though. Is that okay?"
"Whatever you want to do."
Noriaki gazes up at him, bringing their hands up to his face and pulling him down into another kiss. They can’t stop smiling. Jotaro places his hands on their body, running his hands up and down their sides. Noriaki's hands find themselves tangled up in Jotaro's hair again. They can't help touching his hair and his face. They still can't believe that they're able to touch Jotaro like this, that they can touch Jotaro whenever they want now.
Jotaro's hands are rough, but gentle against their skin. The man above them is nothing like DIO. DIO was teeth and pain- their bond was forged from mind control, loneliness, and lust. Noriaki still wakes up some nights from nightmares of DIO's clawed hands digging into their skin, ripping their flesh apart and slowly eating them alive. Jotaro is careful, as if he doesn't fully trust himself to not hurt Noriaki. Noriaki appreciates the sentiment, the feeling that they're something wholly precious. But Noriaki wants Jotaro to let go, they want him to relax and enjoy himself, and they want him to know that Noriaki isn't fragile in the least. Noriaki is a beast after all, and has been a beast their whole life.
Noriaki pulls Jotaro down closer, deepening their kiss, licking deep into his mouth. Their kissing becomes more heated and desperate, and Noriaki can feel Jotaro straining against the tight material of his pants. Noriaki raises their leg up against Jotaro's crotch, lets him grind down against their knee to find some release. Jotaro groans deep in his throat, pulling Noriaki closer to him. Noriaki wants to touch him so badly, wants to tease out pleasure from his body, wants Jotaro to make more of those wonderful sounds.
"Can I touch you?"
"Do you even need to ask?"
Noriaki smiles, a little bit more excited than they'd care to admit aloud. They reach to unbuckle Jotaro's multiple belts, and pull down the zipper of Jotaro's jeans, finally sliding the clothes off of his body in one swift tug. Jotaro lets out a sigh of relief as his cock bounces free. It's arched high with what looks like painful arousal, his skin is flushed an angry pink. He's big. There's no doubt about that in Noriaki's mind at all. As they gaze at the sweeping arc of his cock bumping up against the hard lines of his stomach, Noriaki wonders if he's even larger than DIO was. He probably is; Noriaki vaguely remembers reading somewhere that werewolf genitals are generally larger and much thicker than the average human's, and that vampirism has no effect on that area of the body. Noriaki shrugs the thought off, there's no reason to think of DIO now, the lying bastard is gone and will never have them back. They would love to kill him personally, but Noriaki has their friends now, and they’ll take DIO down together. If Noriaki is being honest with themselves, a knot suits them much better anyway. There was a point in Noriaki's life where they never thought that they would meet another werewolf, let alone have the chance to become intimate with one. The thought of being so connected with Jotaro, of the closeness of being locked together after sex, sends chills of anticipation down their spine.
Noriaki takes Jotaro's cock in their hand, experimentally giving it a few tugs and gently rubbing their thumb against the soft head, letting the small beads of precum there moisten up their strokes. Noriaki moves their other hand to pull at Jotaro's hips, urging him to sit in their lap. Surprisingly, Jotaro relents, seating himself onto Noriaki's smaller lap. Noriaki strokes his cock again, fingers pumping him with more intent than their experimental tugs earlier. Noriaki grasps the underside of his cock loosely, trailing their fingers up and down at an agonizingly slow pace. Jotaro is wetter now; his cock is leaking more as he finds more pleasure in Noriaki's touch. Noriaki's lips find his again, the hand not working Jotaro's cock cups his face gently.
Noriaki could stay like this forever, just letting the gentle glide of skin pass the time. They could stay here with Jotaro panting in their lap, pulling pleasure from his body for as long as they like. But suddenly Jotaro pulls away.
"Noriaki..."
"Yeah"
"Can I touch you?"
Nerves shoot through them. They want to make a joke. They want to mock Jotaro with the same "Do you even need to ask?" he's been giving them this whole time, but their heart is pounding hard in their chest. |
e5d0195ef36049ca85e6b5d5c3294fde | ['e709a2ded985491d90a7d49746be510c'] | Words barely make it to my brain as he hums questioningly. I don't know what to say, I'm confused as hell. We are not even... like... What does he mean by date I don't even understand...
I stare conflicted about my thoughts. But my heart knows the answer. My heart knows that whatever 'date' means or doesn't, I trust him with all of me and I want to spend this New Years night with him.
_\- Okay._ -I reply as his smile grows instantly and he kisses my cheek, then shuffles my hair, grabs his coat and runs out of the room with a rushed "I'll be back".
The room is empty now and I'm sitting on this table as if I accidentally dropped a make-up blush powder on my cheeks, burning as if I got the fever and swinging my legs as if that can outdo the shy idiotic smile on my lips.
I'm going on a date with Jiminie hyung tonight... I giggle to myself as I cramp up my shoulders and squeeze my hands in between my thighs.
_Where did he run off to though?_
***
Almost half an hour later Jimin hyung returns to the room out-of-breath, looking excited and energetic.
\- Come on Kookie, let's get ready! -He says as soon as he enters. I buckle up from his bed where I was playing games on my phone to pass time.
\- N-now? Isn't it still early to go?
It's like 8 p.m. There are still 4 hours till midnight. What could we possibly be doing?
\- Nope, it's not early. -Jimin hyung says while removing his coat and heads to his wardrobe after throwing it on one of the chairs in the room. -We're leaving, come on get ready.
My heart jumps a bit as I timidly make it out of his lower bunk bed and watch him go through his clothes from behind him.
Jimin hyung notices that I'm standing still and turns to look at me.
\- Kookie? Go get ready!
I gulp, a bit nervous over stressing him with my slow reactions but what can I do? I'm still sh-shy about this whole 'date' thing...
\- Something wrong? -Jimin hyung walks up to me looking worried.
I grin.
\- What should I wear?
He releases a relieved laughter and pats my head.
\- Anything. Just make sure you are all warm. Okay?
I nod, the excitement reaching my insides and as he hurries me out of his room with a chuckle, I jump the stairs to my floor and make it to my closet.
Well, I don't have that many of clothes. Most of what I have is jumpers and huge sweaters. Since he said I should wear something warm, I guess my clothes could match to the concept.
I end up scattering clothes all over the floor because it turns out to not being as easy I thought it would be. Or maybe I'm just too picky to choose one outfit straight up and wear it right away like a regular guy. Why can't we just wear onesies to everywhere?! It's frustrating!
I get distracted by the knocking sound coming outside my door. Aish! Jimin hyung is here already!
\- Come in! -I shout hurriedly while grabbing whatever I see on the ground hoping they are the magic match I have been looking for.
\- No way... -Jimin hyung mutters as he enters my room.
Oh gosh... He is looking at the floor, aka my cloth river.
\- Jimin-ssiiiiii! -I shout dramatically when I see his face and sit on the floor, making a pouty face so that he can help me out in this mess.
He walks up to me, eyes wide and I notice wow. He looks so good! How did he look so good in such a short time?
Jimin hyung wears a dark blue knee-length coat, a grey turtleneck, blue jeans and a white beanie with the writing "Imperfect" on the front. It's simple but because the clothes fit him so perfectly I notice myself drooling over how good he carries them. He is goddamn attractive.
Blfjdjddjd. Stop checking him out Jungkook. What the hell.
\- Yo bunny what are you still doing here?!
Of course Jimin hyung would take charge. If he left me to myself I would find no way of putting these clothes together and getting out of the dorm in 10 minutes like we did right now.
\- You look cute. -He giggles as he gives me side stare while locking the door of the dorm building.
Cute. I like that word. Heh. Do I really look cute like he says I do...?
\- But we have to zip this... -He says as he throws the keys in his pocket and grabs the ends of my extra-fluffy coat, pulling up the zipper in one go.
\- Ow! -I protest, lifting my chin up because he is forcing the zipper too high but he scolds me and I end up staring at him like a wrapped burrito.
He chuckles while watching my cross eyes. Huh, of course he is having fun. He is not the one layered up in clothes. He literally made me wear things on top of each other because "I might catch a cold", whatever! And he himself is looking goddamn fine with just a coat and a turtleneck.
\- I can't breathee! -I stomp my feet, my words coming out in a mumble because the coat is blocking my lips. The only part of my body that has air-contact is my nose. And my eyes, if they count.
\- Stop complaining. -Jimin hyung stares playfully while lowering the knitted hat to my eyebrows. -You look cute, I said.
\- I look like an eskimo!
\- Jungkookie! -He giggles again and I finally smile too. This annoying hyung with the addictive laugh. -Give me your left hand.
\- Why? | bdd520f19f874dad880528d82043e417 | ['e709a2ded985491d90a7d49746be510c'] | \- Oh, wow! So can I take a little bit of credit for this beautiful love story? -The professor joked upon which the students faked funny disapproval sounds, and to a conclusion he surrendered his hands up in the air and gave the floor to the boys. -Okay, Mr. Park. This will be all your time for this presentation. -He said with an approving nod, content with the way things had come to an end. -Thank you very much for sharing a very sensitive subject to yourself, and you too, young man. -He pointed at Jungkook, who made a head bow and listened attentively. -Consider yourself _the_ official Prince Charming. I approve.
Cheers rose from the room as Jimin and Jungkook bowed to everyone again and again, and after sloppily running to the back of the classroom squeezed themselves in between their friends who patted and smacked them teasingly until the professor called in everyone's attention.
\- So, class. This concludes the semester of our Philosophy course! It was a very memorable... _blah-blah-blah._
Jimin could only focus on Jungkook's hand warming up his own from under the desk, and the fluttering of his heart when their eyes met in the spark of a second.
\- Ayy, let's eat deliciously everyone!
\- Our last meal before the holidays.
\- Ah, hyung, don't remind just yet, let's just enjoy the food!
Last jokes of the season were exchanged and pizza slices orbited in the air. The last of the year had arrived in a breeze. Not that winged, considering the massive changes all's lives had brought on but principally, when things end it feels like time flew by.
It was bittersweet to Jimin, watching his friends laughters circulate in their happy bubble, the same pizzeria and same waiters to be witnessing their precious friendship for the umpteenth time this year. There was a famous Yoongi now, a couple of secretly peeking fangirls from the nearer booths from time to time, and a Jungkook who trailed kisses down his jaw with the comfort of his cozy existence. Everything else was pretty much the same, and Jimin couldn't feel more grateful than what he felt at that instant.
The weather was hot and all-sunny now. The windows of the cafe reflected glitters of rainbows inside, flapping butterflies in Jimin's stomach over the excitement of spending the summer with his loved boyfriend.
\- You full? -Jungkook asked with a grin from next to him, a drop of ketchup hanging on to the corner of his lip.
Jimin's eyes crinkled into a lovely smile.
\- Yeah. -He said, wiping it up with the corner of a napkin gently. -You?
Jungkook nodded happily, leaning the side of his head on Jimin's shoulder and going back to being involved in their friends' conversation.
Jimin felt weak; more cuteness than he could handle. More than he could ever ask for. He leaned his head on top of Jungkook's one, closing his eyes and making an extra effort to feel the raising and falling of Jungkook's chest on his squished arm.
\- Namjoon hyung, Hoseok hyung and I will be leaving tomorrow. -Tae announced.
\- I'll be leaving tomorrow night too. -Jin spoke.
\- I still have a weak to go because I'll have to deal with the label. -Yoongi took his turn. -They want to release the song by the end of the month.
Everyone cheered. Yoongi had become a big deal in short amount of time; they're even releasing his song earlier than they had planned due to the increasing demand by the fans. Good for him.
\- So... when will we meet like this? -Jimin asked with a bittersweet smile, running his eyes over each one of them as if he was carving the memory of their shared well-being together.
None of the guys was sure about how to reply. A long three-months ahead, everyone busy with individual plans and apart cities... It's hard to tell, really.
\- We'll keep in touch, at least the much of us that can meet will. -Hoseok suggested, putting his sunglasses on to get ready to leave. He had his signature caring brotherly simper on, lips heart-shaped to communicate dearly: _I heart you guys_. -I'm sure we can make up some time for a dinner or something.
Pleased nods came from the table, and the agreement was made.
-I'll miss you guys. -Hoseok spoke again, voice slightly edged as a match to his feelings. -This group. -He signed them with a circular finger motion. -This is the real pact, right here.
Namjoon nodded with a single clap as a dimple popped up in the center of his left cheek.
\- Let's have a good summer, spend lots of time with our families and do the things that we always wanted to do yearlong. -His eyes shone as he spoke, chest raising in the emotional burden of the fond looks he received from the others. -It's not like we won't be back at this pizzeria, is it?
The guys laughed in agreement and bid their goodbyes to finalize the year-long journey they shared together. Just like that their VIP table in the pizzeria emptied, letting go of its visitors with the promise keeping its couches warm until the next university year, where the same ol' boys with the same ol' congenial laughters would reoccupy their spaces and resume goofiness from where they'd left off.
[Last Week of Summer Break]
Packing for a weekend break in Busan before they both got busy with the new school year had been a bit more chaotic than Jimin thought it would. Jungkook, for instance, had taken more than half-an-hour in the shower only, and they needed a bus to catch in just an hour.
\- Jungkook-ah! Are you done already? -Jimin shouted from his living room, visualizing his voice travel through the open door of his house to Jungkook's own slighted one. |
555c900eee0548029420cfac287d06aa | ['e7148bd993dc417a96d0df986a51f3a4'] | That decided, Avon went to see how his ferret was doing. Very well, as it happened, the security had been set up to keep out idle snoopers, but it _was_ possible for very senior officers with the right clearance to gain access to the sealed court records. Avon set about being a very senior officer with the right clearance, and shortly afterwards had the court transcript, complete with the man's former name and yes, rank. He'd been court-martialled. With that information, Avon could find other files, although even this might be enough to help trigger some sort of recall. He glanced through the transcript.
Oh. Blake was not going to like this.
***
Avon had insisted on fetching their prisoner. Whatever, whoever, it was, he thought it had the right to be party to this. His conversation with it had convinced him of that much. It stood calmly, ignoring the weapons aimed at it.
"What have you found so far, Avon?" Blake asked.
He handed Blake the transcript, let him read it. It was obvious when Blake got to the listing of the charges.
"I don't believe it! This has to have been planted, they knew we'd taken him!"
"It's genuine, Blake." He wished it wasn't. "I checked very carefully. It is the original file. And before you say it, yes, he might have had a rigged trial, but in that case it wouldn't have been aimed at you. He was convicted four years ago."
"What's going on?" Vila asked.
"Our visitor was formerly one Commander Derek Brant, head of the Federation military base on the colony planet Epiphany." Avon watched the mutoid for any sign of a reaction, but there was no sign of interest. Just like that one that Travis had had with him. "His replacement at the end of his tour of duty arrived unexpectedly early, and as a result Brant was arrested and brought back to Earth for court-martial. He was found guilty, and sentenced to modification."
The mutoid was starting to show some curiosity. "For what?"
"For raping three children and frightening them into silence by threatening their parents with reprisals if they told anyone what you had done to them," Blake said, voice as chill as Avon had ever heard it. "You used your position as base commander to abuse the children of your junior officers. Then you injured one badly enough for her to need medical treatment, and you hadn't wiped the computer records clean before your replacement arrived."
That calm, passive acceptance was broken now. "No! I am an officer of the Federation, my duty is to serve and protect!"
Blake stared at the mutoid as if it was something he'd found on the sole of his shoe. "The sort of protection you gave those children?" He thrust the transcript at the shocked officer. "Read it."
The bald statements of the charges, then the statements of the children, what had been done to them, the threats made to break their parents if they ever hinted what had happened. The details of one child's injuries. Avon watched the growing horror in the man's face, and realised that he'd started thinking of him _as_ a man.
"No, I could not have done these things! I would have been sent to a penal colony for this!"
"Read the sentencing," Blake said. "You were a superb soldier, and they didn't want to waste you."
"No!" Brant, or the man who'd taken his place, looked at Avon. "It isn't true, is it?" he pleaded.
The question of whether this was a real person was settled, as far as Avon was concerned. And whoever he was, he wasn't the Brant that had been, at least not enough to hurt in that Brant's stead. "It is. I'm sorry."
Brant handed the transcript back to Blake, very politely, and asked, "May I sit down?"
Curt nod from Blake, and the others hastily cleared the couch. Cally remained on guard, everyone else drew together at the far end of the flight deck.
"Still want to restore his memories, Blake?" Avon asked.
"No!"
"Good," Jenna said. "Somehow I doubt he wants you to."
They all glanced at the spectre on the flight deck couch. Brant was staring at his hands.
"Then what are we going to do with him?" Gan asked. " _He_ hasn't done anything wrong."
"He's a Federation officer," Blake said.
"Not by his choice," Jenna pointed out. "He's been programmed."
"And to undo that, we'd have to restore what he was," Blake said in disgust.
"Then offer him the choice," Gan said. "I mean, that's what we're fighting for, isn't it? So that people can decide for themselves?"
Blake's expression cleared, just a little. "Thank you, Gan." He strode back to stand in front of Brant, the others following in his wake. "Decision time, Brant."
Brant looked up at Blake. "I'm not Brant. I don't want to be. I don't want you to restore my memory."
"We don't intend to."
"Are you going to kill me?"
"Who you are now... has done nothing to deserve being killed in cold blood. What are we to do with you?"
Disbelief on the mutoid's face. "You are asking me?"
"We are asking for suggestions. Make some."
"If you do not intend to kill me, then return me to my base," Brant said wearily. "I have no existence outside the Service."
"And then what happens?" Jenna asked. "No one will believe that we just let you go."
"I will be blanked."
"They will punish him like that simply for being captured?" Cally asked.
"No. They will reward me for the information I can give them about this ship. They will blank me, after my debriefing, if I ask."
Blake looked at the mutoid for a long moment. "It can't give them anything they don't already have. Find a planet where we can drop it off without us getting caught and without it getting lynched by the locals."
### Space Command HQ
No further attempt was made to reverse my modification. They put me down in countryside, with a supply of synthesized serum, and told me which direction to walk to reach a town. I reported in as soon as I could. My summary report that I had been captured by the terrorist Blake, and held for a period on his ship, was assessed and I was ordered to report here at once for a full debriefing. I have now made a full report and have nothing further to add.
No, there is nothing more that I can remember.
Please may I report for memory blanking now, Ma'am? | a7de1f42473e4534aec738c2f33fae02 | ['e7148bd993dc417a96d0df986a51f3a4'] | Ghost in the Machine
_Spoilers for Seasons 3 and 4._
**Evening, Terminal base**
He'd been cheated.
And yet, it was not all illusion. The phantom he'd spoken to, all unknowing, had existed in the computer at least. Was it just a programmed simulation, unaware, guided from outside; or truly a fragment of Blake's personality recreated by Servalan's technicians, self-aware... and trapped?
He could spare it a few moments of his time before he set out to find the ship Servalan had promised him. A few minutes seemed like very little indeed, compared with the amount of time he would doubtless be spending making the ship spaceworthy before he could get off this miserable excuse for a planet.
**Morning, Terminal base**
"You're not real."
"No. I'm sorry, Avon."
He stared at the small holographic projection in the operator's console. This much of it was real, there was a program he could run, a 'Blake' he could talk to. "Are you really?"
"Yes," it said, face sad. "I'm real enough to know that I'm not—and to regret it."
"Then why not tell me before?"
It shrugged. "I didn't know—before."
He thought about that. "Servalan removed a block in your programming."
"You're the expert. But yes, that's what it feels like. One moment I was talking to you, and the next, I knew.
"What are you?" he asked, quietly.
"Just enough of Blake to fool a drugged man." The Blake-image's mouth twisted. "Just enough of Blake that Servalan wanted me to know what she'd done—after she was safely away, of course."
"After?"
"When you switched me on again. Then I knew. She must have planned it."
"Oh yes, that sounds like Servalan," he said. "Although I'm surprised she didn't leave it to me to break the news to you."
"Maybe she didn't trust you to tell me." 'Blake' smiled at him, hurting him. It was so like Blake. "You might have had some devious plan for using me to further your own ends."
"Is there any way I can use you?" he asked.
"Probably not. I don't know how readily my program can be moved, and I don't know anything useful. You'd need to check my programming very carefully for booby-traps as well."
"I suppose you might be useful," he mused. "Do you have a full-size projection system?"
The small holograph shrugged. "There's an experimental system, but it's not reliable. As you may have gathered, they used a direct neural feed on you. There are projectors in the real room that was used as a model for the program."
"We might be able to dismantle it and take it with us."
"And take me with you?"
"I'll think about it."
It looked resigned. "Avon, one last favour. If you leave me here, turn me off. I think I could get very lonely before the power runs down."
It had tricked him, trapped him here. But through no fault of its own. And it was, after all, a little bit of Blake, all that there was left of him now. "I promise."
He talked to it for more than a few minutes more, and when he finally left, he powered down the system. Just in case anything should happen to him, and he couldn't get back here. It was taking a chance, he might be killing Blake's ghost, but he wanted to be certain his promise wouldn't be broken. Better to risk not being able to restart the program than to leave it haunting this base, forever confined to blank terminals in empty rooms.
**Morning, Terminal surface**
Cally had called out to Blake.
Had the ghost truly died when he switched it off? Or had the power disruptions from the explosions restarted the system, just before it had been destroyed by debris?
Cally had not died silent. Perhaps she had not died alone either.
_First published in Tales from Space City 10_ |
3bad22418a114668b1b31f49f4e6e82f | ['e71e64010ab3489f8076ef52e4d8e9c2'] | > Oh, and this Toothless can also vaguely remember the tales the "First Alpha After the Great Exodus" told of his friendship with the Earth-bound human, the tales that have been passed on for generations.
5. New Tail in Test Flight
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Un-betaed.
It's already morning when Hiccup gets back to the station.
Head reeling from the past night and thoughts slowly becoming more clogged with the lack of sleep he's suffered these past few days. It feels like his head is stuffed full of cotton and compressed in a too-tight helmet at the same time. Never mind the still-aching bruises.
Work waits for no one though, so he just slaps on a multitude of caffeine patches and gets back to work.
* * *
The next few days pass by in a flurry of sleep deprivation, avoiding all human interaction, discreetly removing all signs of dragons from the logs, building Toothless (yes, it's a silly name, but somehow he had felt that it fit his new friend) a couple of different versions of a new tail and testing them during the nights after catching him another bagful of space fish.
The first one hadn't worked quite as intended. It hadn't read Toothless' muscles as finely as it should have, resulting in a crash into the pond.
The second one had glitched, sticking in only one position.
The third one though, the third one had been quite successful.
Hiccup had tested it himself, flying around in the atmosphere and testing how the tail reacted to different speeds and later adjusting the tail accordingly. He had had his work table covered in notes and more than one recorded simulation of the tail saved in his data cloud.
The amount of satisfaction Hiccup had gotten when Toothless had finally been able to shoot out of the crater had been immense. Indescribable. He had sunk onto the ground and possibly even blacked out for a bit under the strength of his relief.
_I fixed it. I actually fixed it._
Now all he can do is watch as the black dragon makes impossibly tight turns, flying tricks and loops over the crater. The absolute joy and energy in his movements is clear and for a moment Hiccup is reminded of the first time he tested _Inferno_. Feeling so weightless, so light, so overwhelmingly _free_. He had had no idea how much his worries had been weighing him down until he had forgotten them for the duration of the flight. Of course, upon landing they had settled on his shoulders even heavier than before, but he had found a way of escaping, which had overpowered the painful anchor of expectations.
In the midst of his introspection, he feels an enthusiastic nudge on his rib cage. It's the only warning he gets before his visor is covered in slobber.
“Toothless! What are you doing!? I can’t see!”
The only answer he gets is an unrepentant growl.
The nudging continues.
“H-hey, hey wait!”
It isn’t until Toothless has nudged him upright and starts nosing around his back that he gets it.
“You want me to fly with you?”
It’s hard to tell because of the smudged visor, but the dark blob that is Toothless seems to be wiggling in delight.
“Okay! We’ll go fly! Just wait until I clear this up…”
He starts wiping up the visor, but only manages to spread the substance. He can hear vaguely laughter-like noises from before him.
“Oh come on! This is _your_ fault.”
A disbelieving noise.
“Oh yes it is!”
Hiccup groans in frustration and sweeps up some liquid from the pond. That seems to help somewhat since he’s able to see again, but there is still a some sticky residue left. Oh well, as long as he can see, it should be fine.
After making his pre-flight preparations, he sends a playful glance at Toothless and takes off just below a super-sonic speed.
He can only just catch an indignant shriek before he’s already touching the underbelly of the cloud cover. A heartbeat later he bursts to the other side, reaching the outer layers of the atmosphere.
The whole of space opens up right before his eyes. Vast, empty void, with multiple bright stars braving the cold, blank space between. There are the three moons and the Asphodel nebula, casting their blue and violet light upon Helheim. And somewhere far away, too far to even see from here, is the tiny planet Hiccup originates from.
It's breath-taking.
For a long moment, Hiccup is frozen, suspended in the atmosphere, just trying to comprehend the indescribable sight upon him.
Then something _thwacks_ his chest.
He’s pushed back to the clouds and just before he’s swallowed by the grey-black veil, he sees a devious, mischievous glimmer in familiar green eyes.
_Oooooh, so that’s how you want to play this._
Hiccup narrows his eyes and gears up his engines, diving further into the clouds.
_Let’s see how your maneuverability compares to mine, then._
He can feel a wild grin stretching his mouth as he shoots to the left to avoid the playful dragon diving behind him.
_Oh, it’s_ on _._
* * *
They play an aerodynamic version of tag for a long while before settling to flying side by side in the calm night of a foreign planet. They fly above the cloud cover, ostensibly not to be discovered by other dragons or humans, but mostly because it's so peaceful up here. Hiccup can feel his worries, his pains, his tension, all of it melting away at the sight of the stars and the comforting presence of the majestic creature beside him.
He sighs in absolute contentment and for another while they just glide smoothly. | 927e800c87a646efafa15a626050b477 | ['e71e64010ab3489f8076ef52e4d8e9c2'] |
1. Test Flight
**Author's Note:**
> This was made for a tumblr prompt by ashleybenlove and learning-to-fly-on-my-own
>
> Here are their tumblrs, go show some love <3
> http://ashleybenlove.tumblr.com/
> https://learning-to-fly-on-my-own.tumblr.com/
>
> Un-betaed
The access panel blips and the door opens with a hiss.
He wiggles through the door, closes it from inside and drops heavily to his feet as the gravitation field activates again.
Sometimes he hates the all-encompassing pressure that weighs down every living being on the water-dirt-thing called Earth. It reminds him too much of the invisible pressures pushed on him every day by his father, by his peers, by the damn BERC Council.
Most of the time, he just wants to fly among the stars. Weightless, uncaring of gravity, simply... _free_.
Not weighed down by expectations, regulations, self-doubt, all that.
Nevertheless, human souls aren't meant to be unburdened so he gusts out a frustrated breath, and makes his way to the bridge.
* * *
"All clear. The sensors were all in _stellar_ condition."
"Then where did that shadow come from?" snaps the Captain.
Hiccup just spreads his hands and shrugs helplessly.
"It was probably just a malfunction. Ugh, _so boring_!" Ruffnut groans from her chair at the nav screens.
The Captain just harrumphs skeptically and Hiccup feels like he's failed once again.
"Permission to continue the flight, sir?" comes the no-nonsense voice of the pilot.
"At your leisure, Hofferson," the Captain grunts.
The blonde nods and starts firing up the engines.
Hiccup very stealthily slides away as his dad is occupied by overseeing the busy bridge.
It's not like they need him here.
* * *
The rest of the journey through the meteor belt surrounding Helheim is uneventful, and they manage to dock to the Horrendous station without any more glitches.
They unpack, run a few preliminary tests to ensure that the station's life support and other vital systems still work as intended before bunking down for the night.
Everyone else except Hiccup, that is.
See, there is one specific reason (besides his love of the stars) why he goes to as many planetary flights as he can, even ones led by his father. He is, first and foremost, a cybernetics engineer. And as such, he often _creates_ things. Things he maybe shouldn't. Things that he has never shown anyone, not even his own mentor.
Things he knows he would only get to try on real extraterrestial conditions after _light years_ of paperwork.
So he keeps them a secret. Sacrifices some of his engineering equipment and rations to pack his inventions instead. Makes up a device to cheat the NASA scanners to smuggle his equipment in without detection.
Sneaks away from the station when his crew mates are asleep.
His heart jack-rabbits against his ribs as he pulls on the culmination of his innovations so far.
The air lock hisses ominously as he steps over the threshold, onto the surface of Helheim.
He holds his breath for 10 seconds.
15.
20.
30.
A minute.
Nothing happens.
His enforced, multi-function suit holds up admirably in the slightly heavier gravity and the extreme heat. Hiccup feels something almost like pride begin to swell in his chest, a small, goofy grin stretching the corners of his mouth. Maybe this will work, after all.
He starts to walk carefully away from the space station. He needs to get far enough away to start the next phase of testing.
Around three kilometers later, he has passed the range of the space station's primary sensors. If someone activates the long-distance ones, he is screwed. But seeing as all the others are supposed to be asleep, he figures it should be okay.
After finding a good, steep ledge, he stops.
For a moment, Hiccup scans the foreign landscape around him, appreciating the stark, black ash dunes and rock formations half-hidden in the mist.
Helheim is a volcanic planet. It has a heavier gravity than Earth, and its surface is mostly composed of tephra, lapilli, ashes and other volcanic rocks. The air consists of 31,5 % oxygen, 64,9 % nitrogen, 1,6 % sulfur and 2 % carbon dioxide, making the air filters on Hiccup's suit fulfill their purpose in saving his life. On the colder parts of the planet - mainly its poles - there are large bodies of water and even some plants. The Horrendous station is located on one of these colder areas, to avoid the occasional volcanic eruptions that happen on the middle circuit.
Most of the planet is still unnamed, but below him roars one of the few named rivers on this planet. Styx crashes and rages in the bottom of the ravine, named after the boundary river between Earth and the Underworld in the Greek mythology.
He sincerely hopes the name isn't an augury about the fate of his little trial here.
Taking a deep breath, he runs a quick diagnostic check on the operation systems of the suit. When all seem to be clear, he braces himself and says:
" _Inferno_ , activate!"
The suit bursts into movement.
Small, compact engines on his back, along his arms and on the soles of his boots shoot him instantly to the heavy ash clouds hanging low on Helheim's black sky.
"Whoa! Not so fast! _Hover Mode!_ "
_The Inferno_ takes a moment to depict his orders, and before it can react, the radar flashes red as something large and impossibly fast crashes into him.
Together they tumble off the sky.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> BERC comes from "Bureau of Earthbound Researchers of the Cosmos"
2. First Contact
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Un-betaed.
The fall is all adrenaline rush, flailing around, bumping into the mysterious _something_ , trying desperately to get the engines to restart. Flashes of a fast-approaching deep crater. ~~And a long, horrified scream.~~
Crashing into the ground is _pain_ , _agony_ , _fear_ , _hurt_ , all tangled together. |
ecc65de5e44c4f20ae73d26f4473a37e | ['e73a20d684aa4bb18bcb6b70e6a2f749'] |
Gravity (keep me where the light is)
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> So this is a gift for Ducky (angryangryowl) who may not even remember because it's been so long ;)
> She wanted Senator Ben having to see Poe again after a long period of time and I think also the part about Ben having to give him an honor or award. And then it turned into this!
"Senator Solo?"
"Sir?"
"Ben!"
Ben startled and looked up from his datapad where he had been staring at the same two paragraph memorandum since it had so innocently appeared with a soft _ping_ almost 20 minutes ago.
"I apologize Sir, I've been calling your name," the girl shifted nervously. One of the new interns, Hanna? Hona?
"No apology needed," he put the datapad down on the desk and slid it as far away from him as possible. As if putting distance between him and it would somehow magically change the words on the screen. He attempted to smile at her, but had a feeling he was failing miserably, "My mind was somewhere else. Please continue."
"Yes, uh, Senator Nadin sent me to ask if you have had a chance to look over the proposal for the Restoration Day parade," she paused, clearly something was showing on Ben's face, "and uh, if you would be available to meet over lunch tomorrow to discuss the details?"
Ben swallowed down a quick flash of nausea. He was the son of General Leia Organa, the grandson of Senator Padme Amidala, and the current youngest member of the Galactic Senate. He did not lose his shit in front of _interns._
"Please let Senator Nadin know that I look forward to it."
“Great! I mean, yes, sir, I'll let her know," the girl toyed with her overly large earring, she seemed to be considering something, "It's exciting though isn't it? This will be my first time on planet for Restoration Day! I hear it's quite something. Did you hear Poe Dameron will be in attendance? I'll be honest, I had his poster on my bedroom wall back home. I wonder if we'll get to meet him."
"I'm sure _Captain_ Dameron will be quite busy," Ben said through gritted teeth, "Now, was there anything else?"
She seemed to realize she had crossed over some line and her face went slightly white, "No sir, sorry, I'll just be-" The intern didn't even bother to finish the sentence as she fled back out the door, her long, indigo braid flying behind her.
Ben waited until he heard the door hiss shut before dropping his head down into his folded arms. He kept his eyes closed while he took several deep breaths and tried to remember whatever nonsense his Uncle Luke used to spout about the benefits of meditation. After several long moments he sat back in his chair and used the tip of his index finger to slide the datepad back in front of him. Much to his dismay it looked exactly as it had before the girl had interrupted him.
_Senator Organa-Solo,_
_We are pleased and excited to inform you that you have been selected to represent the Galactic Senate of the New Republic during this year's Restoration Day celebration. As you may already be aware, this year's celebration will include a special ceremony honoring one of our best and brightest, Captain Poe Dameron. We on the committee felt that the close relationship between your two families not only during the Rebellion against the Empire, but also throughout the rebuilding of our new democracy, would emphasize just how far we have come since those dark times._
_During the ceremony Captain Dameron will be not only honored for his numerous achievements in keeping peace across our galaxy, but will be presented his new official title as Commander of the X-Wing unit of Starfighter Command. Congratulations again on being selected for this prestigious position!_
_Senator Ramina Nadin_
_Committee Chairman_
Ben groaned and wondered if was still too late to become a Sith Lord instead.
-
Ben had known from a very young age that he wanted to be a part of the Galactic Senate. He had devoured texts of the Old Republic and was especially inspired by stories of his Grandmother's love of her people and of her deeply held ideals of freedom and democracy.
"I wish I could have met her," he had said to his mother one afternoon, who had hugged him close and whispered, "Me too."
Being Force-Sensitive had interested him in about the same way the learning to pilot a ship had. Certainly a useful skill, but nothing much beyond that. He let his Uncle Luke train him to quiet others' thoughts in his mind, to meditate in order to keep dark feelings like rage and anger in check, and to accept and interpret the visions and feelings that came through the Force. He let his Father take him up in the Millennium Falcon and even felt a sense of pride a few times at his Father's face when he was able to bank sharply through a narrow canyon or time the jump to hyperspace to the second the ship broke the planet's atmosphere.
Poe Dameron though, had been born to fly. Ben knew it before he ever saw Poe get into a cockpit. He knew from the minute Poe came strutting in with the new recruits assigned to his Mother's fleet, he could feel it even with his limited Force training. Poe also turned out to be handsome, charming, funny, kind, smart, humble and such an incredible pilot that even his Han Solo had to admit he may have met his match. Overall Ben had found it to be maddenly unfair that one person could be that perfect, even as he tried and failed not to picture said perfect lips and hair and smile as he jerked off in the shower. | 0ffb8cd5f8304f099f901acabca2655e | ['e73a20d684aa4bb18bcb6b70e6a2f749'] | "I meant it," Ben said when they stopped to breath, "I want that, want it to be you."
Poe sat back on his heels, he looked remarkably handsome. His hair was still mussed from his helmet, his tan skin flushed around his neck and chest, "If your sure?"
"Please Poe." Ben pressed a small bottle into his hand.
The waning sunlight filtered in through the room's large window. Poe's room was on the 58th floor of the Cadet's Academy of the New Republic and if Ben looked out all he could see was the planet's horizon, the suns starting to sink into the distance. Light.
Poe was careful with him, calm and deliberate, until Ben was gasping for air and more aroused than he had ever been in his entire life.
"Do you have any idea how you look right now?" Poe moaned, took himself in his hand and slowly started to push inside.
Ben's sharp intake of breath made him pause, he looked down at him with worried eyes, "Okay?"
Ben didn't answer, instead reached up and pulled Poe down to kiss him. He could feel Poe everywhere, inside him, around him. Light. Love. They moved together after that, Ben's legs wrapped tight around Poe's waist, pulling him closer. Kissing constantly and Ben knew he wouldn't last long.
"I'm..."
"Oh god, me too."
"Poe," he managed to gasp out, but Poe understood. He slipped his hand between them and then Ben was falling. No, not falling. Flying.
-
"What do you expect me to do!" Poe was angry, Ben had rarely seen him angry, "I'm the best damn pilot in the galaxy and people are dying!"
"I didn't expect you to run off behind my back and join my mother's new band of Rebels!" Ben tried to calm his mind, the anger was catching and he needed to make Poe see reason. Anger for Ben was dangerous.
"Well it wasn't as if I could reach you!" Poe stalked towards him, and Ben knew this was about more than joining the Resistance, "And I don't need your permission."
They were face to face now, Ben could feel Poe's anger, his pride, arrogance, and something else. Something so rare Ben almost didn't recognize it, fear.
"What are you afraid of?"
Poe's eyes flashed dangerously, "Stay out. of my head."
He turned to leave, but Ben grabbed his wrist, "You don't know the First Order like I do! You have no idea..."
"I know! But how could I live with myself, how the hell could I call myself my mother's son if I did nothing?"
Ben knew he would lose this fight. Knew it for the exact same reasons he loved Poe. The same reasons he cannot lose him.
"Best damn pilot in the galaxy, remember?" And there it was, the light. Ben closed his eyes, felt Poe touch his face, his anger thawing.
"What aren't you telling me Ben, what are _you_ afraid of?"
_Fear leads to anger._
"I have to leave again soon, to finish my trials. I don't know for how long." Poe flinched and pulled away.
"Are you afraid I make you weak?" Poe wouldn't look at him, but the way his voice cracked made Ben's heart twist painfully. He had never heard Poe sound like that before.
Ben was stunned for a moment. Didn't he know, couldn't he tell? His hands shook when he grabbed the front of Poe's ridiculous orange jumpsuit and kissed him painfully hard. He forced his tongue into Poe's mouth, grabbed his hair, cupped his face.
"Why would you," Ben kept his grip, "How could you even think that?"
"You're going to be a Jedi," Poe was trying to keep his voice steady, "Jedi's live free of all attachments. You asked what I was afraid of. I'm afraid one day you'll leave for good."
_Train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose._
"Never," He pulled Poe towards their bedroom, "never, never."
He takes Poe for the first time that night. He looks incredible, dark eyes flashing, cheeks tinged pink when Ben moves inside him.
_You don't deserve this,_ a cruel voice whispers later. _You will destroy him._
-
Ben passes the trials. He becomes one of the first Knights of the new Jedi Order. He feels pride from his mother, his father, his uncle. He feels Poe and knows it's because of him.
-
Poe Dameron is the best damn pilot in the galaxy. He is a Resistance Commander. Ben Solo is the love of his fucking life. He is brave to a fault.
He is captured by General Hux on a secret mission to retrieve plans of a superweapon the First Order has almost completed. If they succeed, millions will die, so he gives the plans to BB-8 and tells him to run like hell after his X-Wing is destroyed. He fights as long as he can until he's knocked out from behind.
They torture him for information, but there's no powerful sith on board to force it out so they get nothing. There is also no broken stormtrooper looking for a way out because FN-2187 had been killed two months earlier in battle by a stray laser blast reflected off the lightsaber of a young Jedi Padawan named Rey.
The Resistance command room is deadly silent as the hologram plays out. His hair is matted, face bruised. He can barely speak.
"My name is Poe Dameron. I'm the best damn pilot in the galaxy. I'm a Resistance Commander. Ben Solo is the love of my fucking life."
He is brave to a fault.
_
By the time Han Solo finds his son he's kneeling in the middle of the smoldering ruins of Commander Dameron's quarters. His head is down and his lightsaber is still in his hand, humming softly. Smoke hovers in the air.
"Ben," Han says it calmly, but clear. His son lifts his head, his eyes almost black and full of unshed tears. He makes a broken sound. It breaks Han's heart.
"Please," he chokes out, "Please. I'm being torn apart. I want to be free of this pain."
Far across the galaxy, Supreme Leader Snoke smiles.
Sometimes it happens like this.
But the end is always the same. |
766f0c4929a749cc9a94089b514359fa | ['e74287de4e034459a6e1ad9b7c12efd0'] | They ate in silence for a bit, before Bull started in on his usual banter; the jobs he'd taken lately, The Chargers antics, Krems disastrous attempts at flirting with bar maids. Dorians tales of attempting to get his countrymen to turn over a new leaf paled in comparison to Bulls tales. Sure, they exchanged letters as often as they could, but that would never beat actually hearing the Bulls deep baritone.
They argued; Dorian demanded that Bull stay with him, in the Pavus household. Said he wouldn't take no for an answer, if only to see his mother die of shock. Bull was steadfast, adamant that he not put Dorian, or Maeveris, in trouble. They went around and around, neither really winning.
Until the child began coughing.
At first, neither man reacted. Children cough all the time, right? But then it happened again. And again. The boy tried to take a drink of milk, but coughed halfway through and choked.
Dorian stilled, his heart aching. He remembered being a small child, probably this boys age, and and having the Winter Fever; wishing and hoping his father would come talk with him, sit with him, just acknowledge him. His mind swam, thinking about what he could possibly do. He'd never been a very proficient healer, but maybe Mae...
Suddenly, Dorians inner rambling was interrupted by the boy coughing, again. He heard Bull say 'Oh, fuck it.' Before he strode forward and picked the child up, a simple feat that he only needed one hand to do.
The child was crying now, scared and embarrassed and miserable. He was probably used to scoldings, or worse, Dorian realized. He began stuttering out an apology, an apology that Bull cut off quickly.
"No. Never. You hear me, Imekari? Do not apologize for hurting. Do not apologize for sickness. Do not apologize for fear. Never to me. Do you understand?" Bulls voice was gruff, gentle, and full of the quiet fear that he reserved for few occasions.
Calmed, the boy settled into Bulls embrace, the coughing fit still wracking his tiny body. Bull plucked the last honey treat from the basket, offering it to the boy.
"Here, try. I promise that if you can eat it, it will help your throat." Bravely, and probably out of hunger, he took it, chewing slowly, a grin spreading across his face when he realized that Bull was right. Bull chuckled, the most lovely of sounds.
"What should we do?" Bull asked, somber.
Dorian hesitated. Mae would surely kill him if he left the child to fend for himself. His mother would kill him for bringing an urchin into the Pavus estate. Bull would be crushed if the child died because they did nothing.
He opened his mouth to speak, about to say that they could bring him to the city orphanage and instruct them to care for him. He almost said it. He really did. Until he focused on Bulls face. His expression was familiar, but only to Dorian and three other people;
It was the same expression he had, when he was faced with sacrificing The Chargers. The expression his face held in the moment before Winn told him to call the retreat, to save his men.
Well, shit.
Mother was going to kill him. Dorian stood up, brushing the dust off his robes as he did so. Gesturing at Bull, he picked up the baskets and led the way back to the Pavus mansion. To his home. Gingerly, Bull stood up, cradling the child to his chest, following Dorian. Pausing at the door, Dorian took off his cloak and threw it over the child, over Bulls shoulder.
"The less people that see a Quinari carrying a malnourished child, the better." He offered by way of explanation. Nodding, Bull followed his Kadan.
They wound their way through the streets, more cautiously this time. Dorians thoughts were racing. Besides a bed, a bath, and food, what else would the child need? He started making a mental list; clothes, shoes, a few healing potions. What else did children need? Toys, certainly. Children liked toys, yes. He shot a sidelong look at Bull, making the decision to give Bull some gold and tell him to go shopping for the child later. Bull would like that. Any reason to make the lummox smile.
It didn't take long for them to arrive home, and naturally Mae was already there, arms crossed, eyebrow raised. "Well, well. Dorian, I let you out for a few hours, and you come back with a rather large Quinari, who I can only assume is your dear beloved. Now, what kind of trouble did you get into?"
Flushing slightly, Dorian tried to stammer out a response, but was cut off by Bull.
"We need a bed, a bath, and a healer." He went to take off the cloak, adding "ma'am" to the end of his statement.
When Mae saw the tiny, shivering child, she gasped, startled. "Makers Breath. Did you literally FIND a child, Dorian darling? No, wait, you can explain later. Let's get him indoors. A hot bath and a healing potion will do him wonders. Hand him here, Bull." She gently encourages.
Reluctantly, Bull handed the boy over to her, grunting as he did so. Dorian could tell that he wasn't pleased, but this was the perfect opportunity to send Bull to buy the child a few things.
"Amatus, would you do me a favor? The child will need a few things after his bath. Something for his throat. Clothes and shoes. Perhaps even a few toys? I'm sure you could find a few things." Working to keep his tone light, he handed over his coin purse, not even wincing as he did so. Bull looked down at the purse and grinned, happy with his new task.
"Anything for you, Kadan." With that, and with the smile still in place, he left for the market place. | 59d15e26691d4527808518a7c8f21ad2 | ['e74287de4e034459a6e1ad9b7c12efd0'] |
The Magister's Nightmare
Dorian was devoid of all thought but of him. 'Amatus. I must get him to Solas. Solas can fix this. Fix him. If not, Maker help me..help me be strong
enough to kill him, or weak enough to die trying'.
Running. Always so much running. 'But such a lovely view', I mused, watching Calians backside. 'Damn it man, focus!'. We fought so many waves of Quinari. More than I'd ever seen in a lifetime. Bull was forcibly stoic about the whole ordeal. I just hoped that he wouldn't drink himself to death later. If there WAS a later.
The Serrabas was down, screeching the entirety of it. His master nowhere in sight, of course. A wave of pity over took me: such a waste of talent, a waste of life. Calian was covered in blood; the white leather of his armor stained irrevocably. I didn't dare look at my own robes; I was trying not to panic as it was already.
Still more running; would it ever end?
Calian suddenly cried out, his mark overpowering him again. Makers breath, how it tore at me to see this again and again. If only I could take it from him. I gladly would. He suddenly stood, and looked at me. That smirk that I'd grown to love. Those eyes I'd never tire of. For a moment, for the first time in years, I wish I hadn't destroyed Alexis's amulet. To slow time now, right now, and just revel in the gaze that was upon me.
"I love you", he murmured. And waited.
Could I say it now? With everything hanging by a thread? How could I not? How could I not say it again, and again a thousand times?
"I love you." I repeated it, again and again, as I stepped closer. I felt, more than saw, Bull and Varric move to shelter us, to give us just this one moment; I loved them deeply for it. Kissing him was as agonizing as it was ecstatic. I wanted to drink him in, wrap around him and never leave, never let go. Shit-if we do survive this, how will I ever let him out of my sight again?
With such scant time left, our moment together seemed so much shorter than we deserved. But if this was the last, I'd go to the maker with this memory.
The final Eluvian-the last door. Our only chance. Calian steeled himself, and paused a moment. Almost as an afterthought, he turned to us, grasping my hand as he did so. I could feel the heat radiating from the mark.
"This is..this is it. You all know we have no idea what we'll find on the other side of this damn thing. You three have been by my side in everything, and I.." His voice wavered for a moment, during which he squeezed my hand. We waited.
"I have never known a greater group of people, nor have I had a more loyal group of friends. I can no longer ask you to sacrifice your lives for me. If you wish to go back to The Winter Palace, you may. This is your last chance" he then looked at me, waiting, hoping, begging. I saw red.
"If you think....that for one FUCKING MOMENT, that I will walk away from you NOW, you are a lot less smart than we all thought", I raged. "I. AM. NOT. LEAVING. YOU. I will fight with you and for you. I would move time for you. I am about to fight yet ANOTHER FRIEND, for YOU. I would fight every BLOODY God that's ever existed, FOR YOU. And if I fail..it had better hope I die trying, Amatus!" I couldn't see past the rage, the fear, and the tears. I just stared at him, shaking.
"If we survive this, I'll give you every bloody thing you ever wanted, everything we talked about: you'll live with me in Minrathos. We can have a cat, or ten for all I care! We can have a family-we can adopt a child, or many of them. You're the...you're the only person I can see this life with, Calian".
When I could finally see, I saw that he was shaking. My anger evaporated, until I saw that he was shaking from LAUGHTER.
"Do you think this is FUCKING funny?" I snarled.
"Well no, but apparently I've lost my mind so everything is hilarious" he grinned. And I saw the fear leave his eyes, to be replaced with love and hope.
"Boss, you're full of crap sometimes. When have I EVER missed a good fight?" Bull finally spoke. "I'm with you, to the end".
"Look, I HAVE to go with you-I have to know the end of the story for my next book!" Varric quipped. His voice then softened: "Inquisitor, you believed in me when no one else did. It's high time I return the favor".
Calian swallowed, moved by their words. Bracing himself, he turned to me, and then walked through the eluvian. I was but a half step behind him, but I was still too late; the second he disappeared, the door closed, as if broken.
At that moment, my heart stopped.
"Amatus?!! Maker, maker, NO! Don't...you can't...I can't..." I didn't even know that I had spoken out loud. No idea that I had began banging on the mirror. "Please. Don't. Don't do this to me. I can't leave you." Varric and Bull were silent, leaving me to my grief. I slammed my fists into the eluvian again and again, until my fists were bloody and raw. After that, I just crumpled at its base. I would wait here until my death, if I had to. But I would wait. Bull and Varric settled in to wait with me; their presence was as comforting as anything could be right now. |
e3ed573cd3a540e7b83e733ec1d19e2e | ['e74fdd162c10455ca0fd62beedd7ccea'] | Lorcan almost couldn’t believe the luck that had brought this never-forgotten prey to his doorstep. One of the ones who had betrayed him and Elide, resulting in unnecessary death, and the stripping of whatever little trust Elide had held onto after her time in Morath. He heard her voice in the background, but couldn’t discern the words as he stalked towards the bearded man, a knife in his hand where before there was none. He was two steps away when a dark-haired head obstructed the view of his prey and small, firm hands were planted on his chest. His gaze slid down to meet the nearly black, slitted eyes of his wife. Lorcan’s arm reached out to push him behind her while he continued forward when she grabbed his arm and placed his fisted hand on her swollen belly. His fist instantly relaxed, as his palm cupped their child resting within her.
Elide grabbed his chin and lifted his eyes from where they had focused on their child. “They are not worth it,” she whispered to him. His hand tightened on the knife, but looking at the stubborn set of her jaw he knew this was not a fight he could win. Grunting wordlessly, he sheathed the knife and turned his back completely on the performer, herding Elide ahead of him back towards the main table.
The only thing holding Rowan down was the queen’s hand on his thigh. “Old friends?” Aelin tried to hide her smirk. The only answer Elide bothered with was a scowl as she shuffled towards her chair next to the King.
A stone-faced Lorcan pulled the chair out for her before she could get to it. “The performers are gone directly after the feast. They are not allowed to stay on castle grounds.” He gazed directly at Rowan during this statement. The King’s only response was a slow nod.
With Elide safely seated and secured, Lorcan settled into a brood. The festivities gradually resumed around them, but his gaze rotated between the members of the carnival troupe as they stumbled through their routines under his gaze. He remained fixated, not touching his food, until his wife’s hand ran up his thigh as she whispered she was ready to go to bed in his ear.
\-----------------------------------------------------
In the early hours of the morning, Lorcan carefully snuck back into their room. His mate lay naked and tangled in the bed sheets, sated from his earlier ministrations. Laying down the knife, he stripped off the rest of his clothes and crept to his side of the bed.
“Is it done?” Elide’s gaze fixed on his, wide-awake. He had understood the promise in his wife’s earlier words. That the bearded man had not been worth the notoriety and immortality he would have been afforded if he had been killed by a Lord in front of the rest of the court. He had done it quietly in the woods miles away, where they had tried to hide from him. They didn’t have time to scream when he came. If only he had the luxury to have savored the experience, but it had to look like a robbery gone wrong. Not the slow torture he would have preferred. Even though it was done cleanly, he washed thoroughly from the cold pump outside. He did not want this part of his life in his marriage bed.
He slowly let out a deep breath he didn’t know he’d been holding as he slid under the covers. “Yes.” He breathed into his mate’s hair, wrapping is arms around her so that their child rested between them. He felt a tension in her release, one that she had been holding onto for years, since an unplanned boat ride.
“Good.” Lorcan held Elide as she fell asleep, marveling at the world he now held in his arms, and the future they had ahead of them. | 71007f2e26ee4c09bf198c58803eff54 | ['e74fdd162c10455ca0fd62beedd7ccea'] | “I don’t want to talk about this again.” Feyre backed away and looked at her handwritten notes.
“But it’s true—"
“I said I don’t want to talk about it, and if you bring it up again I’m going to leave."
Rhys studied her for a moment, before looking back down at his computer screen. “Okay.” Feyre was immediately relieved, but after two weeks, she almost missed his perpetual questions.
It all came to a head one Tuesday night, during their night study session. Feyre’s phone buzzed with a message, but she ignored it, too busy looking through her textbook trying to find a passage. “There, see! I was right. Over 50%, not 25%.”
Rhys looked up from where he was likewise scanning the text, “I guess you were.” His mouth twisted in a wry smile. Feyre’s phone buzzed again. She looked over at it and frowned. Rhys pushed his laptop in front of her before she could reach for it.
"Your statistics, your paragraph."
Feyre scoffed. “Since when is that the rule?” She pulled the laptop closer though, and proceeded to tap away at the keyboard. They continued working on, until the door to their study room banged open.
“What’re you doing?” Tamlin stepped into the room scowling at Rhys.
Rhys jumped from his chair, knocking it back, and gave a threatening smirk. “Fucking across the table, what did you think we were doing?"
Feyre scrambled up, grabbing up her notes and textbook and cramming them into her backpack. “We were just finishing up a project, Tam.” She looked at the ground as she slung her pack over her shoulder, moving to the door.
“You didn’t answer my texts, my class got canceled.” Tamlin turned his frown on Feyre.
“She was busy working,” Rhys interjected, shoving his own books into his bag without taking his gaze off Tamlin. He started moving towards the door, matching Feyre’s stride.
Tamlin moved out of the doorway, getting in Rhys’ face. “Stay away from my girl."
“Or what?”
Feyre moved in between them, pushing Tamlin’s chest. “We were just studying, Tam."
“I told you I don’t want you near this prick.” Tamlin moved to push her aside, but Feyre was done with his guiding hand. She smacked it down, and pushed at him again.
“Well you can’t tell me what to do.”
“I’m your boyfriend, I have some say in what you do in your life.” Tamlin frowned at her in consternation.
“Well maybe you shouldn’t.” Feyre knew she sounded childish with this back and forth, but her anger at his treatment made her nearly incoherent. “Maybe we shouldn’t be going out at all if you feel that way."
Tamlin stepped back as if struck. Before he had a chance to react, Feyre stormed past, running out of the room. Rhys stood staring after her, eyes wide with a dumb smile stretching across his face.
As Feyre looked around at the empty lawn outside the library, she tried to decide where to go. She had started wandering the empty pathway, and as she thought about what had just happened and what she had said, tears started to fall down her face.
What if she had made the wrong decision? Was this what normal relationships were like? If so, she wasn’t sure she wanted one. She should probably apologize for over reacting, maybe then he would take her back. But she shook off those thoughts. Some of the best times…no ALL of good times she’d had over the past week had not involved him.
She had been the happiest with Rhys, making fun of the professor during class and studying late night in the library.
Feyre looked up and found herself outside Elain’s dorm. Following a resident into the building, Feyre made her way up to her sisters room, hoping she might be able to provide some advice, having been in a long-term relationship. After all, isn’t that what sisters were supposed to be for? |
3c52edcbd4cd4b04a722aae506d678ab | ['e76b0028382f4250b783a728ab639298'] |
The Trial
**Author's Note:**
> I made a sequel.
>
> Why?
>
> Why not?
>
> Again, this was written very quickly. So if there are any ooc moments or inconsistancies, that's why.
>
> Enjoy this stupid thing I made.
Finally, it was the day of vindication. The day Myne's, or should he say Malty's, dirty secrets got revealed.
Of course, a lot more than he expected to get revealed did. Her relationship with the church (not surprising), her attempt to assassinate Melty (also not surprising), along with her admittance that she didn't intend for the church to try and assassinate all four of the heroes (a bit surprising).
But now, it was the moment of truth. The one question that meant the most to Naofumi.
"Malty," Queen Mirellia said. "Did the Shield Hero assault you?"
Malty, still heaving in pain from her temporary slave crest, looked up at her. "Th-That's right! The Devil of the Shield tried to rape me!"
No sooner had she said that did the crest activate, sending waves of pain through her body. She let out a shriek of pain before falling onto the ground, unable to take it anymore.
"No way..." Itsuki murmured with wide eyes.
"Myne... So she really did..." Ren mumbled.
"H-Hold on!" Of course, it would be Motoyasu who objected. "Wh-Who's to say that you aren't activating that slave crest! Huh?!"
Mirellia leveled him with a cool look. "And, pray tell, why would I do that?"
Motoyasu paused for a moment before resuming his glare. "I-I don't know! But I refused to believe that Myne would lie about something like this! We've been in the same party for months now! I know she wouldn't!" He shouted desperately.
Naofumi gave him a look. 'She's probably got him wrapped around her little finger. I honestly feel kind of sorry for him...'
"Would you like to put a slave crest on her then?" Mirellia asked.
This had Motoyasu taken aback. "Wh-What?"
"Then you can question her yourself. And you won't be able to accuse me of an bias."
"Th-That's..." He looked at Myne and then back at the queen. "I-I can't put a slave crest on a girl! I'm not Naofumi!"
'...Never mind. He just pisses me off,' Naofumi thought to himself, giving the Spear Hero an irritated look.
The Queen seemed to think for a moment before coming to a decision. "Alright, how about this. Naofumi," she said, causing him to look at her. "I'm sure this was enough to convince everyone else, but it seems the Spear Hero is a bit...denser."
"Hey!" Said Spear Hero shouted.
"If you want to convince him, we'll have to bring someone who willing to vouch for you, is male, and has convincing evidence that you couldn't have done this. Do you know anyone like that?"
Naofumi frowned and thought. The Spear Hero was an idiot, so he didn't really care what he thought. And he couldnt' really think of anyone like that either. "Not that I know of... Well, there is one guy, but I don't know if he has anything that counts as 'convincing evidence...'"
"Alright, bring him in!" Motoyasu interrupted. "If you have a good enough alibi, then I'll admit that you didn't do anything to Myne!" He shouted. It was clear from his expression that he didn't actually believe that anything the witness said would be convincing enough. "And I'll be the one who puts the slave crest on him! Any of you would probably just cheat."
Naofumi gave him a half-lidded glare. "Hey, you know it's up to him if he actually wants to come, right?"
Mirellia sighed. "Alright, who is this man? I'll personally ask him."
Realizing that there was no other way, Naofumi gave his own sigh. "Well..."
XXX
And that was how Erhard found himself before the queen, a slave crest on his chest.
"I'm truly sorry for this, Sir Erhard. Thank you so much for agreeing to this," the queen said, giving a bow.
"No, don't worry about it. I agreed to come," Erhard said. "Let's just get this over with quick."
Mirellia nodded and stepped back to stand with Melty, along with Malty and Aultcray, who were both still in handcuffs. The heroes of the Bow and Sword stood on her other side, watching expectantly. The knights stood on one side of the room and Naofumi, Raphtalia, and Firo stood on the other.
They all looked at him expectantly as Motoyasu walked up to him with an overconfident expression.
"Alright, Erhard was it? Do you have any evidence that Naofumi, one hundred percent, couldn't have committed this crime?"
Naofumi frowned. 'Honestly, I don't think he does... All he can really do is vouch for me-'
"As a matter of fact, I do."
Naofumi blinked and looked back at the older man. Erhard gave him a look that could only be described as apologetic.
"I'm really sorry about this, kid."
Naofumi blinked. "Wait, what are you-"
Erhard turned to look at the Spear Hero with a completely deadpan expression. "Until about a month ago, the Shield Hero had no clue what sex was and thought that kissing is how people got pregnant."
The slave crest didn't activate.
...
...
...
Utter silence.
Mirellia dropped her fan.
With a clang, it hit the ground and they all turned to look at the Shield Hero.
Naofumi himself looked like a deer caught in headlights, staring at Erhard wide-eyed. Then his face became completely red as embarrassment overtook him. "YOU PROMISED YOU WOULDN'T TELL ANYONE ABOUT THAT!"
"Kid, do you want your innocence proven or not?"
"NOT LIKE THIS!"
Mirellia broke out of her stupor first and hurriedly picked up her fan, hiding her face behind it. "O-Oh my..."
"What- But- You- How-" Malty stuttered, staring at him with wide eyes. "HOW OLD ARE YOU?!"
"H-How is this possible...?" Aultcray muttered, slack-jawed. "Even Melty knows about..." | fa4154139067444a935c48f9cc984971 | ['e76b0028382f4250b783a728ab639298'] |
1. Prologue
**Author's Note:**
> Not the sequel to "The Talk" everyone is asking for, but it's something.
Inspired by Happy Sugar Life, Anna from Shimoneta, and Love is War.
So, yeah, you know this shit is gonna get crazy.
Naofumi's first meeting with Myne would be forever ingrained into his mind.
He could remember the first time seeing her in the line-up of potential party members. He thought she was exceptionally beautiful. Probably the most beautiful girl there. She noticed him staring and smiled.
In that instant, a strong, almost primal emotion coursed through him. It came quick and faded before he could get a proper grasp on it.
But just for a single instant, it felt like every fiber of his being screamed one thing:
_GET AWAY._
He wished he had listened.
2. The Princess and the Angel
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> The next chapter for this came a lot quicker than I expected.
>
> I think I'll do short chapters from time to time on this story. It'll probably lead to quicker updates than long chapters. :P
__
_Once upon a time, there was a princess._
_She was a girl with hair like rubies and eyes like emeralds. With a kind smile that could warm the heart of even the most stoic of knights._
_She was adored by her parents, and even had a darling little sister._
_But the princess wasn't happy._
_Because, deep inside, she was completely empty._
_No matter how much her father doted on her, she felt no love for him._
_No matter how much her mother cared for her, she felt nothing in return._
_No matter how much her little sister smiled at her, she felt no warmth in her heart._
_She was devoid of every form of love._
_And no matter how much she tried to act normal, her family and subjects were beginning to notice._
_The princess knew something was wrong with her, that she was different. But what could she do? Perhaps she was just meant to live her days not ever feeling love, no matter how much she wished for it._
_Until..._
_One day, the princess met an angel._
_It was a boy with raven hair and eyes as green as the verdant nature around her._
_"I'm scared that I'll never love anyone," she confided in him. "I'm scared that I might be a monster. That everyone will find out and leave. Then I'll never know how to love somebody."_
_"You're not a monster," was the angel's response. "Even if you're a little strange."_
_But the princess was unconvinced, so the angel tried a different approach._
_"How about this, I'll stay by your side."_
_"You will?"_
_"I can't promise things like love, but at the very least I can keep you from being all alone."_
_"Even if it turns out that I really am a monster?"_
_"Of course! You're not a monster!"_
_"You really promise to stay by my side? Forever?"_
_"Yeah! Forever!"_
_No one had ever said something like that to the princess._
_Deep inside her until now hollow heart, warmth began to spread._
_And so, the princess learned what love was._
XXX
Naofumi frowned as he turned the page and found only white space.
"Well, that was a nice story and all...but what the hell does it have to do with the Shield Hero?"
He had been in the library for a while, idly reading the book that had decided it would be fun to come crashing down on his head. It reminded him of a light novel, what with heroes from another world being summoned to save some fantasy land. It was pretty interesting, though, and a good time waster.
The heroes were pretty cool. Each of them had an entire section devoted to them. The Spear Hero, Sword Hero, Bow Hero, and Shield Hero.
The first three sections were as he expected, a sort of record of what each hero did while they saved the world.
The last section, however, felt like it was ripped off of an entirely different book. Did the Shield Hero even make an appearance? Is this some kind of weird experimental novel? A publishing mistake?
"Well, whatever. It's time to go home anyway. Maybe I can find more information online or something."
With that last thought, he looked back at the title, wanting to remember it for later, when a golden light filled his vision.
Naofumi's eyes widened. "Wh-What the-"
And that was all he had time to say before, in a flash of light, he was gone, leaving the book to fall onto the floor.
XXX
Later that same day, as closing time inched closer and closer, a tired part-time worker walked around the now empty library, putting away any books she could find left out.
"Geez, again?" The part-timer sighed as she saw yet another book sprawled onto the floor. Would it kill people to put these things where they belong? She wanted to get home sometime today.
Grabbing the book, she looked at the cover and frowned. "Is this book new? I've never seen it here before," she mumbled, flipping through it.
It was some kind of story about heroes summoned from another world. A dime a dozen when it came to plot ideas. She flipped through it in mild curiosity before finally reaching the last story.
"'The Princess and the Angel?' Does that even belong in this book?" She snorted and read through it. She secretly really liked fairy tales like this.
As she reached the final page, however, she frowned. She had been working part time in this library for a long time, and could pick up on certain things.
Like, for example, when two pages were stuck together.
"Probably from someone eating and reading at the same time," she grumbled, trying to carefully pry them apart. "Seriously, the 'no food or drinks' sign is here for a reason...!" |
5b90b0b76b3443f2a97626eb6fc5ccd9 | ['e77aa74e7edb45cfacaf5b46f339019b'] |
the intruder
Selina had always thought that walks at night were more peaceful. Between the moon high in the sky and the absence of people milling about, she felt more free.
She wasn't a naïve girl, she knew what lurked in the dark alleyways and street corners. Drunks, prostitutes, muggers, rapists and thieves littered the streets of Gotham City. She had first-hand come face to face with some of the vile creatures in the night but then again Selina was a fighter and extremely flexible, often managing to get out of the situations as quick as they started.
As she approached her apartment building, she waved up at Bruce Wayne, her best friend and neighbour who, like her, was a night owl. He was sat on the fire escape with a steaming cup of most likely coffee balanced precariously on the windowsill. Even from the pavement, Selina could see his phone light up and his face along with it.
"How's it going, loverboy? Finally made a move?" Selina gave him a smug smile as he began stuttering and turning as red as a tomato.
"N-no, I don't know what you're talking about," he spluttered out. Selina rolled her eyes, amused at his reaction before movement on the first floor caught her eye.
Odd, Victor and a heavily pregnant Nora had gone to dinner, followed by the theatre, less than an hour ago. Selina had encountered them in the hallway as she left for her nightly walk.
Cautiously she made her way to the window and made out a figure rummaging through drawers and cupboards.
"Hey Bruce, can you call Victor and Nora and tell them that they have an intruder," Selina asked, not bothering to hear his reply before slowly opening the window and slipping in, as graceful as a cat. Selina ducked down close to the floor to avoid the light from the streetlamp outside and quietly crawled to behind the figure. Her breaths were even and quiet, not wanting to alert them to her presence.
'This better not be you, Valeska, 'cause this is a new level of low. Stealing from an expecting couple,' she thought, scanning the room for any potential weapons. Her green eyes landed on a frying pan left on the countertop which she quickly snatched up. She rose to her feet, briefly wondering if the intruder was armed.
"Don't you think stealing from an expecting couple is a little low, morally speaking?" The intruder straightened up in alarm and turned around instantly getting a frying pan to the face, their nose breaking in a sickening crunch. The intruder's hand flew to their nose, feeling the sticky blood flowing steadily.
"Bitch!" The man's voice roared as he launched himself at the blurry figure of Selina. With just a little sidestep, she dodged his attack and he ran into the wall. His hand went to the picture frames on the radiator cover and he knocked it onto the floor, shattering the glass. As he reached for a sharp shard to slash his opponent with, a boot covered foot swung at his face.
"No mask? What an amateur," Selina sneered at him before bringing the frying pan down on his head again, rendering him unconscious. With a sigh she turned the light on and began looking for sonething to tie his hands together with. After making sure he wasn't going anywhere, Selina strode down the hall and began knocking loudly on the door of apartment five. After a minute of non-stop knocking, the door swung open revealing Jim Gordon in his boxers and an annoyed expression. Selina quickly scanned the room noting two glasses of wine on the counter and clothes strewn across the floor, making it very obvious that Selina had interrupted something.
"Sorry to interrupt but could your horny ass put some clothes on 'cause there is a now unconscious intruder in the Fries apartment that you should probably arrest," Selina smiled angelicly. Jim pinched the bridge of his nose and gave in.
"Selina, give me a minute please. Val, I am so sorry but you know, police stuff." The door closed and Selina trudged off back to the thief. Jim and Valerie, she didn't see that coming.
She heard footsteps coming down the stairs and came face to face with Bruce in his stripy pajama bottoms and a hoodie and a concerned looking Bridgit.
"Lina, honey, what did you do to ugly over there?" Bridgit gestured to the bloody man and Selina winced at the slight mess they had made in the fight. There was glass on the floor and blood on the cream walls.
"Frying pan," she muttered. Bridgit smiled proudly at her and wrapped an arm around her, kissing her forehead. Jim exited his apartment, looking scruffy with his shirt untucked and the buttons done wrong.
"Great job kid. I'll have to take him to the hospital first but still good work," Jim gave her a small smile before cuffing the stirring intruder and disappearing again.
"Victor and Nora should be here any minute now," Bruce declared. Selina nodded in reply and turned to him with a wicked grin.
"How's it going with -" she started before Bruce glared at her to shut up, his ears a bright red .
"Bruce, don't try to deny your massive crush. You practically have puppy eyes whenever you run into him," Bridgit laughed. Needless to say that teasing Bruce about his love life was a hobby of Bridgit and Selina.
"Drop it," Bruce murmured embarrassedly. Luckily he was saved by the Fries' car pulling up. Victor leapt out the car and helped Nora get out, much to her annoyance. At eight months pregnant, she hated that everyone kept trying to help her constantly, stifling any form of independence.
"Victor, I'm pregnant not crippled. I can get out of the car easy peasy," Nora crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows.
"You needed help earlier," Victor muttered. The couple made their way into the lobby and greeted the trio.
"Jim took the intruder away. I am sorry about the mess though and kinda also breaking into your apartme - " Selina rambled, being cut off when she was pulled into a tight hug by Victor and Nora, who's large belly got in the way.
"Selina, thank you so much," Victor smiled, petting her curls. Truth be told, Victor had always seen Selina as a daughter figure and Selina saw him as the father she never had.
"This little one also says thank you, judging by the kicks," Nora gestured to her stomach and the movement within. Selina grinned and placed her hand on the older woman's stomach. Nora and Victor had previously discussed that Selina would most likely be like a big sister to the baby, but didn't want to name her godmother as that may have been a bit of a burden for the nineteen year old.
"Anytime little one." | 59f0acf0802f4ec9a1363066643a3b6e | ['e77aa74e7edb45cfacaf5b46f339019b'] | 1. 1
You were cursed with the ability to travel through time but every time you fell asleep, you'd wake up in a different era. However you end up waking up in the same year twice and find out you're wanted for crimes you are certain you didn't commit.
2. 2
Your favourite video game is Until Dawn, a horror game where your actions will affect whether characters live or die. You wake up in a black void and are told that you have to save everyone or you'll be stuck in an endless loop. Upon reopening your eyes you find yourself in the game. Sneakily you figure that if you could lock everyone in the lodge, they'd be safe. Only problem is nobody believes you and your tales of wendigos.
3. 3
You have the ability of your hair turning the same colour and style as the person you think about. Only problem is you frequently daydream about your crush who has wavy blue hair.
4. 4
You are time travelling bounty hunter who will kill people from any time period. You are in the year 1492 and your client asks you to kill President Donald Trump.
5. 5
You are a devout Christian and have grown up in an adoptive family. On your 18th birthday you are told your real father is coming for dinner but you open the door and he introduces himself as Lucifer, the devil himself.
6. 6
You had gotten used to magical creatures randomly knocking on your door and venting about their problems. So far there had been a leprechaun, a goblin, a banshee, a fairy, a vampire and a werewolf. But today there was the Grim Reaper.
7. 7
It had been proven time and time again that Infinity Stones could only be handled by the universe's strongest beings. Much to the Avenger's surprise they discover a short fifteen year old girl with seemingly no superpowers can wield the gauntlet easily.
8. 8
You accidentally walk in on your wife of several years in her natural alien form. |
d1ad36ee931f43fda04072b7b78f36b2 | ['e77acb0e0a3e43969d06b0f5e43290dc'] | Dean leaned back further against the doorway as the dancer carried himself around the room, careful not to let himself be seen, although he doubted this man could see anything as he was so truly engrossed in his dance. Should he leave? It was likely the best thing to do. Dean didn’t want to distract or interrupt him, and he had two crazy children to come back to. He should be leaving, yes, but he didn’t want to. He had his mad, burning desire to keep his eyes on this man, to see his every move until the song would fade.
The music slowed to a gentle pace and back on the ground, laying there with his legs spread and his head down, Dean was hit by how somber he looks, more vulnerable, as he crawled on the dirt by the strength of his arms, dragging the rest of his body behind. Dean watched, the man on his knees and bending his back backwards and for a few seconds, the bright light of the sun caught him in its rays of sunshine.
He looked at peace, then, divine, light flooding over him like the halo of an angel. He looked holy, so beautiful that Dean found himself entirely paralyzed.
The music went on for a little longer, Dean’s eyes still fixated on his body as he spun, finding the strength out of nowhere in a harmony of grace and fierceness that could only come from the depths of his soul. When the final notes hit, the man fell on his knees, breathing heavily and lost somewhere in his thoughts.
The long silence that followed was deafening.
Dean blinked, once, twice, his breathing progressively slowing down to a more normal pace. Well, that had been something. Dean readied himself to move out of this strange numbness that had settled in his bones and took a slow step backwards.
The old wooden floor creaked under his foot. _Shit_.
In an instant, the man’s eyes were on him. Bright _blue_ eyes that made Dean’s heart skip a beat.
“What are you doing here?”, a deep, gravelly voice asked with a pronounced accent that sent shivers down his spine. Could this man get any more perfect?
“I- I was just… Sorry man, I didn’t mean to bother-“
“Were you watching me this whole time?”, he asked as he swiftly stood up on his feet and walked closer, looking at him, his blue eyes piercing his own. Dean swallowed nervously.
“No- I mean, yeah but I was just gonna… go”. His gaze wandered, God help him it did, as he came closer and closer until Dean was able to feel the heat of his skin, eying the lines of his shoulders and the muscles of his stomach, biting the inside of his cheek because this was so _inappropriate_ , but he couldn’t help himself. His eyes drifted back to the man’s face and his _blue_ eyes and full pink lips and rumpled hair.
“Who are you?”, Dean whispered at him as their gaze locked.
“Who are _you_?”, the man asked right back, looking - _staring_ \- at him with so much intensity, as if he wanted to see right through him, to try and figure him out.
“I’m Dean”, he answered and out of reflex, extended his hand up in the air in the space separating their bodies.
The man tilted his head to the side, something Dean found absolutely adorable, and his expression slowly turning from puzzled to a softer, more curious one, before slowing reaching out.
“I’m Castiel”
Their hands met in the middle. All trace of a frown vanished from the man’s -Castiel’s- face, replaced by the shadow of a smile over his lips.
Not like every other Wednesday after all. | 5565e16bdf354c5d98824969d58b01e0 | ['e77acb0e0a3e43969d06b0f5e43290dc'] | Before this could escalate into a fight, Dean crouch down to their heights. Claire’s hair was all over the place, her scrunchie almost completely falling out of her long hair. She looked exhausted but her eyes sparkles, as did Jack’s. His shorter hair was less disheveled but his short black skirt in worn tissue was quickly untying over his leotard. They must have done _a_ _lot_ of spins today.
“Hey kiddos, breathe for a sec okay?”, he chuckled, handing them over the bottles of water that they took with their eager tiny hands, drowning half of it before his eyes. Littles monsters.
“Kids come back here for a second, I have something to tell you about next week’s dance!”, said Tessa, calling them all back to the middle of the room. Jack instantly reacted, shaking Dean’s arms with excitement.
“We have a dance next week Daddy! Will you come see us? Say yes, say yes, say yes”, the boy pouted with hopeful eyes.
“Of course I’ll be there, I wouldn’t miss it for the world”, he kissed both of their foreheads and pushed them back to the center of the class, not wanting Tessa to wait too long. As he got up, he saw Charlie do the same and Amy ran back, seemingly in a better mood. If he was lucky, he could maybe snatch a little goodbye out of her mouth then they would leave. Her mother clasped a hand on his shoulder as the rest of the parents gathered up beside the door. Conversations started nicely, mainly small talk of “how’s work doing?”, “we got a barbecue planned next week after the kids’ performance, you wanna come?”, not things Dean particularly enjoyed himself. Going every weekend to Sammy’s very-domestic-residential house he lived in with Eileen and their long-hair kids was enough for him.
Behind the sounds of conversations in the room, something caught Dean’s attention. He turned his head slightly towards the closed door, a light frown appearing on his face.
The echo of a song seemed to be playing, it was faint, in the background, apparently so much that no one could hear it. But Dean had. Now that he had picked up on it through, it seemed he couldn’t stop. He shook his head slightly, trying to get back into the conversation but his mind kept wandering out there. Why was there any music on this side of the building? No one was even supposed to be there apart from the dance club that occupied the establishment on Wednesday. Was there someone else out there? Were they allowed to stay? Dean considered to directly ask Tessa about it, but seeing her so busy with the kids, he decided against it. And, to be honest, it picked his curiosity.
He didn’t give himself time to stop before he got out of the room, sending one last glance to Claire and Jack and check they were well distracted, and close the door behind him. Already, the song was louder, not muffled by the soundproof walls of the dance room. Dean walked down the corridors, following the music. In two years, he had never visited the building once, he had no idea where he was. At the end of the man hallway, a door was open, and the closer Dean walked, the louder the music was. He stopped at the doorway, waiting a faint second before peeking inside.
A man was there, dancing.
In the corner of the room, Dean observed him, captivated.
The first thing Dean noticed, was how beautiful he was. His body was on display for Dean to admire, the black tattoos and his dark, messy hair contrasting with his pale skin glistening with sweat in the light of the sun through the windows, the strong muscles of his arms and thighs as they flexed, the twitching visible through the skin. Dean couldn’t look away. He just _couldn’t_.
Everything in his man spoke of strength, of some sort of sensuality and sadness that had Dean hooked. He watched with wide eyes as the dancer swayed to the music, loud and meaningful that sent shivers through Dean’s own body. The man followed the piano notes and the deep, deep voice of the singer as his arched his body from the ground, the outline of his groin and thighs clearly visible through the thin fabric of his legging. Dean’s breath caught in his throat at the sight.
The man lifted himself from the ground with a single arm on a backward flip, his face was blank but there was something in the way he walked, slowly, his chest expanding with every breath he took, something cryptic and mysterious that mesmerized Dean.
Jumps after jumps, he continued to dance, oblivious to Dean’s presence. Every movement as he leaped through the air seemed effortless and still, there was a heaviness hidden behind those that Dean couldn’t describe. Gravity didn’t seem to apply to him. It was as if he was trying to escape his own skin, the man looked torn, the gestures of his body looked ragged, sharp one second and light and fleeting the next, a pure contradiction. If he could jump high enough, move fast enough, maybe he could escape himself.
He looked mad, and gorgeous.
Dean knew nothing of dance, but this performance spoke to him. Anger and sadness poured out of man, something that was painfully familiar to him. He felt like he _knew_ his pain, although he didn’t know the reasons of its unmistakable presence. This wasn’t meant to be seen by anyone, it was personal, intimate, telling a story that Dean wished he would understand. How could this man make his movements so gracious and brutal at the same time? |
ed2c851805884e2995c667201613b220 | ['e79fa0975bcf46abbbe56f2d44ddb685'] | Steve’s face falls a little but Bucky strokes one thumb across his cheekbone and gently kisses the same spot.
“It’s okay. You just made up for it,” he assures him.
“Buck, I tried to find you,” Steve confesses. “After Texas. Do you know how many Bucky’s there are who work for Jarvis in the state of California?”
Before hazarding his guess, Bucky beams at him like Steve just told him he won the lottery. “Eighty-four?”
“Zero.”
Bucky lets out a breathy chuckle. “Shocking. Bucky must be somewhere on the list of million most popular boy names. You know how many Steve’s work for Jarvis branches in midwestern states alone?”
Steve shakes his head as pleasure thrills up and down his spine. “You looked for me, too?”
Bucky nods. “I looked for you. And there are eighty-four.” His grin is a little lopsided. “Turns out Steve is a slightly more popular name.”
“We Steve’s are a dime a dozen.”
“Oh no,” Bucky breathes. “_You’re_ not.”
“You looked for me,” Steve repeats, gobsmacked. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this before now?”
“I wasn’t sure what you wanted.”
“Most of the time I felt like you could see right through me,” Steve relates in an introspective voice, talking to himself as much as he is to his companion.
Bucky shakes his head. “When I first said I wasn’t ready for dating that was true, and you went along with it willingly enough that I could keep pretending. My entire adult life has been a string of relationships that didn’t work out, and I didn’t want to admit to myself how important you were because I didn’t want to lose you.”
“I…did the same thing,” Steve admits, still holding him tightly. Nothing Bucky could say would get him to let go now. “Told myself you didn’t want a relationship, so I couldn’t risk telling you the truth.”
Bucky lays a hand on his cheek again in a tender gesture. “I’m so sorry, Steve. You weren’t the only one being a jerk. I was afraid of ruining things and I wasn’t sure you really wanted more until you got so jealous about Brock. I wanted to know I meant something to you, but even when I did, I couldn’t admit how much you meant to me. Till now.”
Taking Bucky’s face in his hands, Steve smiles and reassures him, “You couldn’t ruin things. Or lose me. Ever.”
Bucky circles his arms around Steve’s big shoulders. “Took me all week to admit what I wanted was you. And I don’t mean just sex. _All_ of you. I want us to be together, in every way there is,” he clarifies, and it’s music to Steve’s ears.
“Bucky, you’re all I think about. You’re all I want. I love you,” he responds, and _feels_ the words, body and soul, doesn’t just say them.
“I love you, too,” Bucky whispers, and kisses Steve again.
This time there’s definitely more heat involved, prompting Steve to consider taking this to another location besides the door to his apartment. There is the small matter of their dinner, however. Pulling his head back just enough to talk, he cuts his eyes to the table behind them with the large bags of food sitting on it.
“How hungry are you?” he asks, lifting his eyebrows suggestively.
“We’ve been over this before,” Bucky jokes. “Microwaves, Steve. Microwaves.”
Steve’s face is going to start hurting if he smiles much more. “So you can wait? Excellent, because I really feel like having a shower. With you.”
After hearing the last two words, Bucky’s face lights up and he grins, shrugging one shoulder nonchalantly. “I could maybe go for a shower,” he says, feigning indifference, but the change in his eyes from mischievous to yearning tells the rest of the story.
Taking his hand, Steve leads him further back into his apartment, down the hall and to the master bath adjoining his bedroom. Before they’ve even reached it, Bucky is pulling at Steve’s shirt to get it untucked from his waistband. They both stop to lose their shoes in the middle of the bedroom, unbuttoning their shirts at the same time. The rest of their clothing comes off in a hurry, discarded in a jumble on the floor around them.
They’ve seen each other naked before, of course, but to Steve this time it seems even more _special._ He’s never seen Bucky naked when they _belong_ to each other. He takes in his silhouette with hungry eyes—the tanned, smooth skin, the sculpted muscles, the half-hard dick perking up just for him. All of it leaves him dizzy with need. No one else gets to have this—Bucky is his.
“God, I _want_ you,” he manages to spit out before pressing himself up against that toned physique and shoving his tongue into Bucky’s mouth to claim another searing kiss.
They grope and fondle each other as they share messy kisses and stumble their way into the bathroom. Steve flips a light switch, which illuminates the row of bare bulbs housed over the sink and medicine chest. The bathroom is mostly gleaming tile in a subdued mossy green color. Steve usually finds it relaxing, but in this moment, a relaxed emotional state isn’t quite what he’s going for. He breaks away only long enough to pull open the glass door, reach into the shower stall and turn on the hot water before resuming their oceans-deep kiss.
From there it’s a short wait and a shorter trip inside the shower for the two of them, still making out and clutching each other like two frisky teenagers. As the hot water pelts their skin, Steve turns Bucky’s back to the shower head and rests his arms on top of both his shoulders. From there he can reach the bar of soap from the shower caddy and lather up his hands, keeping the bar of soap in one palm. | 1673ad8a8c93431aa0bb976dca1d8e01 | ['e79fa0975bcf46abbbe56f2d44ddb685'] | The shop they are headed for is on the corner of a busy intersection, but Steve likes it because it is a combination café and InfoShare stop, meaning there are several big screens up on the walls inside that scroll the news of the day, and a library of electronic books and magazines available. All you have to do is find the kiosk with the subject you want and scan it onto your device or phone. It’s always relatively quiet inside, even when there’s a crowd. The best part is the ton of cozy seating for people who want to sit and peruse their borrowed material or just watch the screens up on the walls.
They push in through the doors and step up to the counter to order, which isn’t busy at this time of day. Bucky attempts to pay for his own coffee, until Steve stops him.
“Uh-uh,” he interrupts him. “I’m paying, remember?”
Bucky’s phone disappears back into a pocket and he turns and leans against the tall glass counter, filled with pastries and other goodies available for purchase. He grins his thanks. “Okay, but I’ll get it next time.”
_Next time._ Steve likes the sound of that. He pays by sliding his cell phone over the reader, and they take some seats farthest away from the television screens so they can converse without bothering anyone else.
They talk for a good long time, long after their coffees are gone, and Steve would be content to stay there all night. It doesn’t matter what the topic is; he could listen to Bucky’s voice for hours, watch those full, red lips move, take in his clean, masculine scent. There’s no part of their afternoon together Steve doesn’t enjoy, and he _thinks_ his companion feels the same way. So what’s holding him back?
He has no fucking clue.
Something just outside his realm of awareness and conscious thought keeps telling him to be careful, to not let go fully, despite the burgeoning desire he feels. He can’t explain it. The two of them are seated across from each other, in overstuffed armchairs pulled close together. Most of the time they could speak in normal tones without having difficulty hearing each other, but after a particularly noisy group of teens had come in, they started leaning in toward each other, elbows resting on their knees, heads only a foot apart.
“Steve,” Bucky says, and Steve realizes he’s been caught staring again. He has no idea what Bucky just said, aside from his name. Bucky’s blue eyes bore into his. Blood rushes through Steve’s ears and his cheeks warm. The way Bucky is looking at him, as if he’d like to take Steve home with him right now, is doing all kinds of interesting things to Steve’s innards. While his brain is still on the fence, the rest of his body has made a definite choice already. There must be a thousand butterflies in his belly, and not one of them is saying _slow down_. Not one of them is saying _be careful._ All of them say _Take me home with you._
“Steve,” Bucky repeats. He reaches out with one hand and touches the backs of Steve’s fingers with his, the gesture seductive and uncertain at the same time. Steve lets his fingers fall apart and twines Bucky’s in between his, rubbing his thumb in a slow circle over Bucky’s. The skin is soft and warm and laser bolts of energy shoot upward into Steve’s arm, spreading rapidly through his body. His breaths are quick and shallow, his brain short-circuiting with need and want. Just touching Bucky’s hand is enough to electrify his skin and send sparks zipping crazily all over the place.
Bucky looks down at their hands, held together loosely, and back into Steve’s eyes, and suddenly the rest of the world falls away. There’s no one else around them. No sound but for the pounding in Steve’s ears, no movement but for the slight parting of Bucky’s lips as they stare at each other, as if he’s having trouble breathing, too. Steve finds himself falling toward Bucky in slow motion, bringing their mouths closer and closer together, wanting to close the rest of that distance and kiss those sensuous lips, press against him, taste him…
…except he doesn’t.
5. Chapter Five
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Steve doesn't kiss Bucky. But he wants to, and Sam and Clint give him shit for it. Then Bucky comes through in the clutch when Steve needs him, and gives him even more to think about.
Chapter Five
There’s no kiss. Steve stops mid motion, swallowing down the lump in his throat, still looking into those amazing blue eyes, and then inches back again, looking down at their hands instead. He places his second hand atop Bucky’s, sliding his fingers over the back of Bucky’s hand briefly, then moves away and separates their hands again. That aborted attempt could have been awkward and horrible in the aftermath, but it’s not. Bucky seems to know, seems to understand Steve’s dilemma, even if Steve really doesn’t himself, and his demeanor only radiates kindness and empathy.
“Steve,” he repeats, just as softly. “I’m attracted to you.”
Steve imagines his pupils just got blown wide open, hearing those four little words, but he doesn’t move or speak, because Bucky’s not done yet, clearly choosing his words thoughtfully.
“But you…you don’t think getting involved with a co-worker is a good idea, do you.” |
8a1799968c9e4921b8cb0f3b075559b3 | ['e7f3a6dd57ae462ca0c7c4e32f0dcc8b'] | “My mom and dad were in the Hale house when the fire happened. I was on my way to the party for the Wolf Moon with my Uncle Shawn on my father’s side when we saw the flames through the trees. Derek was running to the house when we pulled up. Shawn ran up to stop him from running into the house, leaving me in the car to watch as everything I knew go up into flames.” Stiles looks up from the book, watching as Lilith explains why she lives alone now. His eyes flick over to Derek, his face empty. “Shawn took me in, but he became depressed enough to where he wasn’t able to function,” she continues, her eyes flicking over to the kitchen window. “I had to learn how to look out for myself, did so for five years and then asked the court for emancipation from him. And now nearly a year and a half later I’m living steadily on my own. I’m happy like this and I can do what I want without worrying about repercussions.” She looks back over to Stiles, her gaze sullen.
“I didn’t know about your uncle,” Derek says and Stiles looks over to him, watching as the alpha’s eyes become pained.
“Well, you didn’t exactly try to come talk to me now did you?” Lilith’s words are sharp as she snaps at Derek. She sighs and leans back in the chair, running her fingers through her hair. “Do you remember what I told you at the sheriff’s station?” she asks softly, eyes closed. Derek stiffens across the table.
“Yes.”
“When I took your hand, and said that I didn’t blame you, that I didn’t want you to blame yourself and for you to talk to someone about it. As an eleven-year-old I expected you to do that. I expected you to let go of whatever negative thoughts you were harboring and get _better_ , not shut everyone out,” she pauses. “But you didn’t get better. You and Laura moved to _New York_ of all places, and proceeded to forget about everything and everyone you left behind. That wasn’t fair, Derek. I may not blame you for the fire, but I do blame you for acting like a coward and forgetting me.” Her words are filled with pain, but even through this she doesn’t get angry. But she does get up and leave the table, the chair legs scratching across the wood floor, leaving Stiles and Derek at the table in the aftermath.
Stiles picks at his pants as a heavy silence settles between the two of them, Stiles heart beating in his ears. He doesn’t know what to say, what could possibly be said to break this heavy feeling left from Lilith? And how could an eleven-year-old have known what the cause of the fire was? Was it a witch thing where they just know?
Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles sees a grey blur come rushing at the house from outside. He turns his head and watches as a longhaired grey cat comes bursting into the house as it pushes the screen door open. It skids to a stop, flicking its head around frantically, searching for something. It stops fidgeting when it sees Stiles, its green eyes meeting his brown ones.
“Uh, Derek,” he says lowly, trying to keep his voice low to avoid startling the cat. It doesn’t move for several moments until Lilith comes back into the room from hearing the slam of the door. The cat races over to Lilith, climbing up her jeans and onto the shoulder of her shirt. Once the cat is comfortably perched on her shoulder, it starts rubbing its cheek where Lilith’s neck and jaw meet, purring loudly.
“What in the _holy hell_ is that?” Stiles breaks the silence, watching as Lilith pets the cat affectionately. The witch looks over, a smile replacing the frown that was on her lips just a minute earlier.
“This is Tasha, my Maine Coon and Norwegian Forest Cat mix,” Lilith answers, looking back to the ball of fur on her shoulder.
“I get that much but why on Earth she just burst through the door like a fucking bullet?”
“Well, Tasha-girl here is just an extremely hyperactive fur ball. She usually runs around outside until I call her in for the night, but I guess she knew that you were here.” The cat purrs louder as Lilith scratches behind her ear. Stiles nods and looks at the clock. _10:16._
“Lilith, thank you so much for breakfast and allowing me to read your family history but I think my dad would appreciate it if I came home,” Stiles says, getting up from his chair picking up his plate to put by the sink.
“Oh, it was no problem, I haven’t cooked for someone in a long while. And take the grimoire, give yourself some more knowledge on witchcraft. Just come to me if you have any questions.” She smiles and walks over to the table, quickly picking up the empty plate and setting them in the basket. She doesn’t look at Derek on her way to the kitchen.
The car ride home was tense to say the least. Stiles tried making conversation with Derek but the alpha didn’t answer to anything, not even an indication that he was listening. It was like Derek was either completely consumed by his thoughts or he wasn’t thinking of anything at all.
Derek’s FJ Cruiser slowed to a stop in front of Stiles’ house, the engine still rumbling. Stiles looks at Derek who was already looking at the boy, his green eyes hooded.
“Um, thanks for the ride,” Stiles mumbles as he unbuckles himself, pushing the door open to leave. A hand grabs his wrist and Stiles turns to head to Derek again, confused. | 5444979b609546f08c091e521e5ecb70 | ['e7f3a6dd57ae462ca0c7c4e32f0dcc8b'] | “What?” he asks, his heart beating faster under Derek’s intense stare. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but he shuts his mouth and looks away, letting go of Stiles.
“Just stay out of trouble,” Derek says without meeting Stiles’ eyes, his voice void of emotion. Stiles can feel his heart fall at the man’s words. He nods and pushes himself out of the car, feet shuffling against the concrete as he walks up the drive way to the front door. He pushes down the urge to look behind him as he hears Derek speed off.
His dad is home, surprisingly. The Sheriff is sitting at the dining room table with different files spread across the wood. He looks up and a large smile spreads across his face. He jumps up and engulfs his son in a bear hug.
“You gave me quite the scare there, Stiles,” John says and let’s go, holding Stiles out to where he can get a good look at him.
“Yeah well, it’s not every day a bear comes crashing through the back door, now is it?” Stiles gives a lopsided grin to his father, looking at the now-fixed door.
“Stiles,” the Sheriff starts, now serious. “Why didn’t you call me instead of Derek?” he asks.
_Because I didn’t want to lose you._ “Because Derek was the last one I had texted,” Stiles lies right through his teeth, not willing to give his father the real answer.
John gives his son a look before nodding, believing the answer.
“Just, if anything like that happens again, call me.” Stiles nods at the statement, looking down at the book in his hands. “What’s that?”
“The Rosewood grimoire,” Stiles answers, fingers brushing over the title engraved in the old leather. His father nods and looks over at the pile of papers on the dining room table.
“Well, I’m going to get back to work. Do you want to order in tonight?” John asks and Stiles nods.
“Chinese?”
“Yeah, we can do Chinese,” John gives his son a weary smile before going back to the kitchen where papers were scattered across the table.
“But you’re getting the vegetable lo mein!” Stiles shouts and his father chuckles.
“Wouldn’t expect anything less, kiddo.”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Thank you all for waiting so patiently! I hope you enjoyed and please point out any errors.
**Author's Note:**
> tu autem spiritus habitans in latere altero puero auxilium corpus restituere. hoc usus est potentia creaturae interfectis. in nomine Dei cura puero hoc.
> i call out to the spirits residing on the other side, help restore this boy's body. take this creature's power and use it on the wounded. in the name of God, heal this boy.
>
> tenebris est super nos,
> darkness is upon us. |
a51a90a7b2134826ad86a8756c06f493 | ['e7f9096a29e34db9aed9ff84cc1ad11b'] | Luckily, she was tall enough to peek into the window next to the back door. No one was inside, as usual. The front door was locked too. Was she about to kick open the door? Perhaps. There were no other campers in this area of the conservation area so maybe she could justify her breaking-and-entering a little bit. Just a little, however.
She thought to herself, “to hell with it,” and used all of her leg strength to bust the door open. Everything looked new, in a sort of way. Vintage, but new. Obviously, the cabin hasn’t been occupied in so long but it’s like it was preserved. Was it the park rangers who preserved it? Probably not. They don’t even step foot in here.
“Well, if I’m already here, might as well snoop around,” Maxine said. She opened up the cabinets in the small kitchen. Nothing but freshly bought cans of vegetables and fruit. Freshly. Bought. The labels have no dirt or dust on them and the steel can has no signs of rust. Max didn’t think too much of it. There have most likely been no signs of age because it’s been underneath a sink for so long and had no exposure to anything.
What was next to the bed? There seemed to be a chest. Without thinking twice that she has not only trespassed, but is basically committing a robbery, she noticed that there was a small jewelry bag, a money clip, and some bourbon. The money clip had dollar bills that were from the late 1800s. How exciting! A piece of history was in her hands. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be much due to modern-day inflation.
Maxine needed to head back to her girlfriend and friend, so she closed all the cabinets and put everything back, except for the money clip. But as she headed out the back door, a man put a gun to her head.
“Who are you?” The stranger asked. He was still as a statue and had a firmness in his voice.
“I, uh, it’s not what it looks like, sir,” Maxine held her hands up. The money clip was in her back pocket.
“Well, it ain’t lookin’ good, miss. Where ya from?”
“Saint Denis. I’m with some friends, camping out here.”
“I ain’t seen anyone else out here,” The man turned his head to look around, and Maxine looked at what he was. She noticed that there were no tents laid out where she was supposed to be staying. Strangely enough, a horse pulling a wagon was on a trail next to the camping spot.
“That’s - that’s a trail. Not an asphalt road,” Maxine stuttered in shock. Where the hell was she? And what is this man doing, thinking he can hold a gun up to an innocent nineteen-year-old?
“What’s asphalt, miss?”
This guy was delusional. Or was Maxine delusional? Either way, she’s had enough. She made an attempt to disarm the older man with a skill she learned in a self-defense class. But she failed. In an instant, she was knocked out. Unconscious. | b7f935f8ed5a4cd88c57101f6643391f | ['e7f9096a29e34db9aed9ff84cc1ad11b'] | Antlers and Petunias
There’s a buck in the distance, grazing on a field. The ground is rich, and flowers brush up against the deer. His antlers are mighty and strong. The deer looks at him, and then runs away. What is he running away from?
This is what Arthur told John. Another campfire story. However, this isn’t a story. It’s one of Arthur’s dreams. Mr. Morgan’s health is declining, and there isn’t much time left. Coughs are getting worse and worse and worse. You can see spots of blood on the cliffside of Beaver Hollow. Spots of blood next to Arthur’s tent. Blood spots, here and there. The rest of the gang is concerned. Susan tries to comfort the sick man by giving as much stew as possible. Wet cloths on his forehead work, but only temporarily. Nothing really works. It’s too far in. The sickness can’t go away now. Too late.
Damn tuberculosis. You can’t say that everything will be fine when you know it ain’t. Everyone is scared about what’s gonna happen next. Dutch’s “plan,” Micah’s ass-kissing to Dutch, everyone getting killed or abandoning the gang, and eventually: betrayal. John sees nothing good of it. Fights are happening daily, and guns are even drawn. What happened to a no-guns rule inside camp? Maybe the old Murfree Brood cave has cursed everyone. That’s silly. Curses aren’t a thing. Can John do his part to save everyone?
No. It’s too late. It still feels too late, eight years later.
John is on his own now, and he has his own family. Abigail, Jack, and hell, why not include Uncle. He helps himself to dinner anyway. Beecher’s Hope. Arthur would be proud, and John knows he is. Wherever he is.
Does he believe in the afterlife? Doubts go through his mind, but who knows what’s really out there. No one really knows. That’s why we’re always questioning Death. Death is no friend of John, however. Death took away Arthur, Death took away John’s parents, and Death takes away the criminals during John’s bounty hunts. He will probably never be a friend of the Marston’s, and John hopes that he never has to see him again for a long time. Prays to never see him in fact. John doesn’t even pray.
Neither did Arthur. Arthur was a very realistic man that taught John a lot of things. Being ten years older than him, he was a mentor to John in a lot of ways. He was basically an older brother. They fought like brothers do, but they also had a bond. Coming from shit familial backgrounds, they had a lot in common. They learned how to hunt, how to fish, how to escape from the law, and other crazy stuff. Now, John has no mentor. He’s on his own, and Arthur is gone.
No one is really gone. That’s the conclusion John has currently came to. Arthur isn’t really gone.
There’s a buck in the distance, grazing on a field. The ground isn’t very rich near Blackwater and the deserts of the Big Valley, but there’s a buck near the back entrance to Beecher’s Hope. |
50e900c1f9f1453c8fa03b38cf0df306 | ['e8024f9e10dd47c6b4acd215d3b636f2'] | There were tears leaking from her eyes now. James wondered how such a small body could hold so much sadness all cooped up inside it. While he didn't exactly understand what she was going through having never seen or experienced it for himself he could still sympathize with her. No one should ever have to feel like that. Add all of the chaos that appeared to be in Lily's world he couldn't even fathom how she did manage to get up every morning. He didn't know what he was supposed to say. But he felt like giving her a hug and a show of support was a good idea. He wrapped one hand over her shoulders and pulled her into the nook of his body, cradling her head against his collar bone, his other hand reached out to hers. She interlocked her fingers with his and he gently his thumb over the top of her hand. There was no need for either of them to say anything it seemed. There was just contentment at being held if only for a little while.
"So in a way it's kind of like carrying around your own personal dementor in your head? Like it's going in for the kiss but tortures you by not actually doing it and leaving you in an essence in limbo" James said into the silence.
Lily found that she could only nod. It was as though someone had taken her ability to speak from her. He suggested they should head down to breakfast which she agreed to. James released her from his embrace and left the room to give her the privacy to change and to go and get ready himself. The room felt oddly empty without his presence. She sat where she was a few minutes longer summoning the strength to get out of bed and put clean clothes on. She noticed that the wardrobe door had been left open and her clothes from home were neatly hung inside.
She wondered if it was Smiggle or Sirius who had done this. She had noticed him coming to and fro with boxes of belongings from her house and hadn't even thanked him for it. Petunia would have a fit when she realised but that would be a problem to deal with later. It was probably in her father's will who would have what, she thought sadly. How did someone split up their belongings in the first place? She stared at the open wardrobe with her face resting on one palm. Now she had to think about what she was going to wear too.
With a sigh she forced herself to swing her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. The realisation hit instantly that she should have looked before doing so as a pain went shooting up her leg from the bottom of her foot. Wincing she sat back down on the bed and brought her painful foot up across the opposite knee. There was a faint trail of blood oozing from a wound in her foot. She looked down to see what it was exactly that she stood on to inflict it. It was the broken glass from the picture of her and Severus, oh the irony that it was now causing her physical pain as well as emotional pain. She kicked it forcefully with her good foot under the bed so she didn't have to look at it. She'd ask Smiggle to throw it out for her later. Lily went back to examining her injured foot now making sure there were no shards of glass in her foot but there didn't appear to be so. She could easily fix it with a simple charm. It also then struck her that she couldn't remember where she had left her wand. Possibly down stairs in the Potter's sitting room. She cursed herself for not having it within reach.
Clumsily she stood up not putting her injured foot on the floor as to not get blood anywhere. She hoped over towards the wardrobe and grabbed the first set of clothes she could. A pair of brown bootleg pants and a floral shirt. She sat on the floor and stripped out of the clothes she was already wearing carefully and put the new ones on avoiding her foot. She reached out and grabbed an old tattered shirt she used for painting and used it to catch the blood drips that were about fall. She signed in frustration and held it firmly against the wound to stop the bleeding, if she had already got blood on it she didn't see why more would make it any worse.
That was when it occurred to her that she could have just called out to Smiggle and asked the elf to retrieve her wand and she wouldn't have had to go through all of the effort. She cursed herself again this time aloud. There was a tap on the door and Sirius stuck his head in.
"You alright Evans?" He asked pointedly.
"Just dandy. I stood on some broken glass and now my foot bleeding and I didn't have my wand. And now I feel like a bloody nit wit" She sighed in exasperation.
Sirius pushed her door open and walked over to join her at the opposite end of the room. He removed her bloodied shirt and examined the cut for himself before taking his own wand out of his pocket.
"Lucky for you Evans I'm good at these particular charms" he told her. | 66456ee3978149c28b2014b188a7b8b4 | ['e8024f9e10dd47c6b4acd215d3b636f2'] | "Not at all Miss. Something tells Smiggle Master Potter Junior would find it most appealing that Miss Lily was wearing his robe. Smiggle sees Miss has chosen the lavender water, wise choice."
"I can choose flower water?" she chuckled, her throat still felt raw.
"Oh Smiggle almost forgot! She brought other things for Miss!" The elf hurried back into the corridor and returned with a tray. On the tray there was a cup and saucer of steaming tea and a random selection of bottles. "Smiggle brought you shampoo, conditioner and body lotion Miss. Smiggle did not know Miss Lily's preferences so Smiggle was ironic and brought wild lily blossom."
Lily took the tea from the tray with a smile and sat at the edge of the bath with her feet dangling in the water. She sipped at her tea carefully and let the warm soothing liquid travel down her throat and began to feel more and more at ease. "Miss Lily is most welcome. Smiggle hopes you won't mind but she put a small dose of calming draught in Miss Lily's tea. For your nerves Miss."
"I don't mind it's much appreciated thank you. Could you please fetch that bottle I showed you yesterday?"
"Oh yes Miss! Smiggle already has it. Master James gave it when I came with the tea. Says it's very important." The elf happily handed over the bottle of pills and Lily knocked back the recommended dose. "Is there anything else Miss Lily would like Smiggle to do? Smiggle can wash Miss Lily's hair if she wishes?"
Lily thought about it for a moment and liked the sound of the idea. When she was little her mum used to wash her hair for her in the bath and massage her head until she almost fell asleep. Lily smiled fondly at the memory. It made her feel both happy and sad. "The ones we love always stay with us in our hearts Lily dear. Remember that" Her mother had said when her Uncle Tommy died. It was the last time she could remember her mother washing her hair. This memory was another one of those things. Her mother was no longer with her in the physical world, but she would always be with her in her heart.
"I'd like that very much Smiggle" Lily told the elf and switched off the tap.
"Smiggle will turn around while Miss Lily gets into the tub"
Lily took off James robe and laid it to one side with her half-finished cup of tea. She slid herself into the bath and submerged herself beneath the purple water. She ran both hands over her head as she breached the surface again, soaking her hair and removing droplets from her face. She leaned back against the edge of the tub, the water lapping at her chest in waves. She felt the cool liquid contact of the shampoo hit her head and Smiggle's gentle hands massaging it in. It wasn't the same as when her mother used to do it. The elf's hands were thinner compared to her mothers. But under the effects of the calming draught she closed her eyes and let her body relax. Lily thought of her mother and the last conversation she'd had with her, the day of her car accident.
_ "Morning Mum" Lily had yawned coming out of her room. Her mother was already dressed and ready to go out for the day. "Off so soon?" _
_ "Afraid so my love. Got to go meet Helen in a quarter of an hour. Your father is down stairs. Must rush. Love you my girl" And with that she kissed her cheek and scooted down the stairs in a flurry. _
Lily wished now that she hadn't been in such a rush. If she'd known that single moment of being half awake on the landing was the last time she'd see her alive she would have cherished it more. She would have given her a hug and told her how much she loved her too. Smiggle finished massaging the lather into Lily's head and washed it out of her hair. Moving on to put conditioner into it. It was still a nice feeling. Lily yawned and felt her muscles become less tense. She couldn't say good-bye to uncle Tommy or to Mum but at least she could say her goodbyes to her dad. She wasn't an idiot, she'd known something was wrong and he wasn't telling her. She had just hoped that if it was serious enough he would bring it up when the time was right. There was another faint knock at the door and Lily said 'come in' without a second thought. James poked his head around the corner sheepishly.
"Breakfast is ready... Oh sorry! I... I didn't realise" He turned around suddenly shielding his eyes.
Lily was confused for a moment then she remembered. She was oh so very naked. She looked down and was so grateful she had chosen the purple water because you couldn't see a thing.
"Oh no, no, my bad I said you could come in. One second."
Lily pulled herself out of the bath and Smiggle handed her a towel. Lily wrapped the towel around her head so her hair wouldn't drip and took a second for around her body.
"Okay now I'm decent" She blushed. James turned around cautiously and made a point to look at Lily's face. Or well the center of her forehead.
"Err... Breakfast is down stairs when you're ready. I... Is that my robe?" He questioned seeing it on the floor. Lily felt her cheeks burn.
"What? Oh! Is this yours? I didn't realise! Terribly sorry I just borrowed it while the bath was running. Hope you don't mind" |
936a9c4b27e74ef8acc417ca4871e172 | ['e81b444cd7474f4d9af0f24d48657218'] | Dean walked out to the silver van parked in the circle driveway. Mary chatted happily with her boys for a few minutes before Sam tossed his back in back seat, opened the passenger side door and almost sat on a dish wrapped in tinfoil.
“Oh,” Mary said, moving around Sam and grabbing the dish, “this is for you,” She handed the dish to Dean and gave him a hug, “love you, Dean.”
“Love you too, Mom,” Dean said back.
Sam climbed into the van and told Dean bye. Mary said bye to Dean also and walked around the van. Dean stepped back onto the porch and watched them drive away before looking into the dish. Holy cow, it was apple pie. Dean may have squealed a little.
Dean walked back inside and into the kitchen. He grabbed two forks and went back to his bedroom, still armed with pie.
Dean knew that there was something wrong with Cas and yeah, maybe Dean wasn’t so good with words but he did know how much Cas loved Mary's apple pie. It had been a while since he had shared any with Cas, so he knew that Cas would enjoy it.
Dean opened the door slowly giving Cas time to realise that he was coming in. Just busting in the room while Cas was in there, was no longer an option. Over the summer he had walked in on Cas wanking off. It was an image that was seared into Dean’s brain, not that he really minded it, but he would never, hell could never, admit that. Cas may not be blood but he has been his brother almost as long as Sam had.
Cas was still laying on his bed, still facing the wall, but at least his shoulder were still. Dean thought momentarily that Cas was asleep, But as he closed the door Cas rolled over and looked at him. Dean almost dropped the pie dish. Cas’ eyes were red and his face was splotchy. Something had really upset him and Dean didn’t like it.
He hated the way he felt for Cas, maybe that was why Dean pushed him away so hard. Looking at him like that though, Dean knew that there was no way possible that Dean could not be there for him right now.
Dean walked over to the bunk beds, sitting the pie on the bedside table, he sat down on the edge of the bed. “What's wrong?” Dean asked.
Cas sat up but ignored Dean’s question asking one of his own instead, “What in the dish?”
“I asked first.” Dean said, “How about you tell me something, any reason that you're so upset and I will give you some of what's in the dish.” Dean was going to share with Cas anyway, but Cas didn’t have to know that.
“Why do you care?” Cas snapped, looking at Dean like he was his least favorite person on earth, “You didn’t care a lunch today, did you. No, just sat there while your bullies of a friends made half the lunchroom laugh at me.”
Dean didn’t say anything, hell he could barely remember lunch. He walked into the cafeteria in a haze. He had just walked in on Amara and her new guy.
“I’m your brother, and you sat there and let them call me gay and a faggot. Made everyone laugh when the thought of how much I wanted my stepbrother to fuck me.” His eyes had started watering again, and Dean heart broke a little.
“I wasn’t paying attention. Cas, I just found Amara cheating on me,” Dean scooted back on the bed laying back against the wall, “They could have been saying that about me and I wouldn't have noticed that either.”
Cas sat back beside him, “They caught me looking at you. I wasn’t staring or anything. I had just looked over at you when they looked at me and that started it all.”
“I’m sorry,” Dean patted Cas’ shoulder and got Cas to look at him, “I am so sorry. I’ll make it better Monday if you want me too.”
“It would just add to the harassment,” Cas dropped his head and looked down at the bed.
“Do they pick on you often?” Dean asked reaching over to the table by the bed and grabbed the pie. “Mom made it, gave it to me when she picked up Sammy.”
Cas’ face lit up a bit, “You really going to share Mary’s apple pie with me?” the look on Cas’ face was something Dean couldn’t really explain.
“Yeah, Cas,” Dean said removing the tinfoil completely and handing Cas a fork. “You didn’t answer my question, do they pick on you often?”
“They’re bullies, Dean, that's what they do.” Cas took a bite of the pie, and Dean watched Cas’ face as he took that first bite. Cas moaned as the soft apples exploded in his mouth. Dean quickly looked away and down at the pie, taking his first bite. Damn, it was good.
They had made it halfway through the pie when Dean couldn’t stand Cas’ quiet moans. He wondered if he could make Cas make those noises. When that thought flashed through his brain, Dean pushed the pie off his lap and moved to the edge of Cas’ bed, both feet touching the floor. He laid his head in his hands, “Fuck,” he said lowly as Cas continued to moan around bites of pie.
This is why, Dean thought, that he stopped hanging out with Cas, it was so much harder to ignore these thoughts when he wasn’t around Cas. He felt the bed shift beside him and looked over to see Cas moving up to sit beside him, sitting so close that their thighs touched. Dean groaned and tried not to say fuck again.
“What happened to us?” Cas asked putting the almost gone pie and two forks back onto the table, “We used to be so close, what happened?” | 2360b438127a45dc822482dbaf03bcf3 | ['e81b444cd7474f4d9af0f24d48657218'] | “Let me help you in,” Dean moved from his laid back position and looked at Cas. He couldn’t understand how Cas could be so nice. Dean wondered if Cas was this nice in high school and how different things could have been had he not been an ass. “I’ll call Anna to come get me after your settled in.”
Dean watched as Cas got out, walked around the car, opened his door and helped him out, “I’m not completely helpless,” Dean grumbled but still accepted the outstretched hand. He walked up the door, “You’re coming in to wait on her, right?”
“Yes, now unlock the door,” Cas handed over the keys and Dean shankingly unlocked the door, on the third try. They entered in to the kitchen, and Dean flipped on the light switch, flooding the room with light from the fixture that hung over the picnic style mahogany table.
“Wow,” it was beautiful, hardwood cabinets and counters, dark countertops and wood backsplash behind the sinks, red plaid curtains hung in front a window looking out onto a dark, deserted street. The applinences were nice and shiny. This kitchen was nicer than his, and he was the rich one.
Dean walked over to the fridge, opened it and stood there looking into the lighted space, silently debating if he wanted another beer or if a bottle of water would be better, he has spent so much of the past months drunk that he wasn’t sure he remembered much else. He listened to the better side of his brain and grabbed a bottle of water, turning around to offer Cas one, “Do you want one?” he asked, pulling Cas out of whatever trance he seemed to be in.
“Humm, oh yes,” he stumbled around with his words, reaching out to take the bottle, “it’s beautiful in here.”
“Thanks,” Dean said swallowing the mouthful of water. “I made most of this by hand. The table, benches, counters, cabinets. Hell, I redone the floors in the entire house. Lisa wanted hardwood floors for Ben.” Dean leaned against the island and finished his water, “I’m gonna go piss. After you call Anna, go through that doorway and make yourself at home.”
Dean walked out and Cas pulled out his phone and called Anna. “Where are you?” she snapped as soon as she answered the phone.
Cas smiled at his sisters over protectiveness, “A friend needed a ride home, and, ummm, I need you to come get me.”
“By friend you mean Dean Winchester, Castiel, he is not your friend” He could almost hear her exaggerated hand movements that she uses to get a point across to him, “Where are you? I’ll leave right now.”
Cas chuckled into to phone, “Calm down, the brown house on the corner of Main and East Park. But, you don’t have to rush over, I am ok.” He expressed each syllable hoping that she would get the point.
“I’ll be there soon,”
Cas slid the phone back into his pocket, after the call ended, and went into the room he was directed to, “Holy…” his words died off as he looked around the room, off to the back side of the house a staircase led to the second story, a banister railing the edge of the stairs and the hallway it led up to. Cas could see three doors up there, and idly wondered which door had belonged to Ben.
Dean walked into the room from a different doorway than the one from the kitchen.
“I changed,” he said pointing out the obvious.
“I see that,” Cas sat on the love seat.
Dean had changed into loose fitting pajama pants, an old t shirt, and had shed his shoes somewhere. He flopped unceremoniously on the couch.
“Your house is beautiful, Dean.”
“Thanks,” Dean said tiredly. “We can watch t.v. or something ‘til Anna gets here.” Dean grabbed the remote of the coffee table and turned on the tv. “There’s bound to be something on this damn thing.” He flipped through the channels until he landed on Dr. Sexy, they were all reruns but it was one of Dean’s quilty pleasures, it used to drive Lisa insane, she would always accuse him of watching it to fantasize about him while they were having sex. He laid the remote down on the couch and stretched out as far as he could.
“He isn’t as sexy in person; he kinda let himself go after the show was cancelled,” Cas said watching the man on tv pretending to be a doctor, “and don’t even get me started on thoses dang cowboy boots.”
Dean sat up on the couch and turned to look at Cas, “You met Dr. Sexy?” Dean seemed a little star struck at that moment.
“I told you, I’m very successful in what I do.” Cas smiled at Dean, he couldn’t believe that Dean like this show. “And he is friends with my ex.” Cas laughed as Dean continued to stare at him, “and he wears those dirty scuffed up boots all the time. You have no idea how unsexy someone can be until you see then in nothing but a speedo and those boots. It's horrible.” Dean laughed along with Cas. “You know what,” Cas pulled out his phone and fiddled with it for a few seconds, “I might have a picture. He thought he looked hot, and he so did not.”
Cas handed Dean his phone, “So that white coat covers up alot, huh?” Dean laughed as he handed the phone back “I don't think I will ever be able to watch this show the same way again.”
They were quite for a few minutes, “So you really did make it big, huh? Famous friends, and I’m guessing a famous ex.”
Cas scoffed, “Yep, a famous ex husband who sleeps with our famous friends while I’m on tour.” his phone beeped, “Anna’s here.” Cas stood up and Dean followed after him. |
9b83f3a61dfa4687af2bf2c8d7f91718 | ['e81d076eca4547fda0880e42552430b8'] | Cas catches Dean’s eyes. He knows Dean is waiting for an answer.
"He's my brother," Cas replies while reaching for the glass of wine in front of him.
"I didn't know you have a brother." Dean says.
"I actually have a brother and a sister." He replies before eating again.
He could have eased up on the sauce. But Dean seems to really like it. So it's still good.
"You okay?" Dean asks Castiel.
Castiel smiles at Dean, "I'm fine, Dean. Thanks for asking though."
"Have you made contact with them?" Dean asks him.
Cas's lip twitches, "No, no I have not called them yet."
"Dude! You gotta call them they must be worried sick about you! I mean, from the way you mentioned them you guys gotta be close right?" Dean states.
Cas sighs. "I can't call them yet... not until I know that they're safe."
Dean's silent. He's either waiting for an explanation or he sees how uncomfortable this is making Castiel and decided to stop asking questions.
"I understand Cas," Dean says and to Castiel's surprise, Dean takes Castiel's hand in his and caresses it with his thumb, "if this ever happened to me I know Sammy would be freaking the fuck out, but I'd wanna make sure I gank the sonsofbitches who did this."
"So you're not mad?" Castiel asks him.
"No, of course I'm not mad, Cas."
Cas lets out a sigh of relief. He's so grateful for Dean Winchester. So grateful of his beautiful existence. His "hobby" is extremely unorthodox, but if it weren't for him Castiel wouldn't be eating the spaghetti he made for them in Dean's kitchen.
"I need to finish this." Castiel comments.
"And we will, but we don't have much to go by except for the tattoo on Lehne's arm." Dean says.
"Sam hasn't gotten back to you on that Hellfire stuff?"
Dean sighs, "Sammy said the Hellfire Club was a name for several _exclusive_ clubs for some pompous asses established in Britain and Ireland in the 18th century." Dean says before digging into his spaghetti.
"Anything else?" Castiel asks him.
"No, that's pretty much it." Dean says.
Castiel sighs. He knows it was a long shot to ask Dean's scary smart brother but at least it's something. Hell, even Castiel didn't know a lot about the Hellfire Club, and his doctorate is on religious studies.
Castiel pinches the bridge of his nose. A headache is obviously coming on. He feels the warmth of Dean's hand as it gently pats his forearm.
"We'll find them."
Castiel smiles back the freckled man.
"Okay."
-
Dean is brushing his teeth when he hears a knock on his bedroom door.
"Hey Cas, what’s up?" Dean says pulling the toothbrush from his mouth.
Cas is in his pajamas already. Dean forgets just how effortlessly beautiful Castiel really is and the BAM! Here comes tall, awkward, and still incredibly handsome. Dean knows he's blushing because Cas has that stupid know-it-all smirk on his face. One that he'd be more than happy to kiss away. Or lick. Whatever.
"Dean, do you mind if we talk?" Cas asks him.
Dean shakes his head and opens the door more to let Cas in. Cas walks in and sits on the bed. Lately he's been sleeping in the guest room that used to be Sammy's. Dean kind of resents not being more aggressive about wanting to more affection from the guy, but he couldn't imagine Cas ever wanting a relationship after the horrible ordeal they went through
"Will you please sit down next to me?" Cas asks him.
See, there he goes again being so fucking polite. Dean loves and hates how polite and respectable Cas is as a person. After all the shit this guy has gone through, he still says 'please and thank you'. Dean doesn't wait another second. He heads to the bed and takes a seat right next to the dark-haired man. Tonight is such a weird night for Dean. First dinner with Cas, and now he wants to talk? Could he be leaving? Has Cas changed his mind about hunting down those bastards that hurt him and those other people?
"I would like to know-" Cas stops himself.
The man is visibly shaking and Dean isn't sure what to do so he just takes hold of Cas's hands and tries to calm him.
"Thank you." Cas says softly.
Dean smiles, "It's alright, Sammy used to have panic attacks, especially when it came to tests--and girls. This helped him a lot for some reason."
Cas smiles back at Dean, "You really care for Sammy." He comments.
"Sammy is like my son/brother combo," Dean explains, "I'd die for him."
Cas nods his head while trying to level his breathing, "I wish I had someone like that."
Dean is a bit taken aback by that comment, "Uh, technically you do."
Cas chuckles, "Yeah I guess you're right."
"I'd kill for you Cas... I have killed for you." Dean says and suddenly the realization hits him.
He's killed a man. Not only because of the code but because he loves Cas. Holy shit. _HE LOVES CAS._
"Dean, did you hear me?" Cas asks.
"Hmm?" Dean responds, mentally telling his inner fangirl to quiet down.
"I was wondering if you would like to go on a date with me," Cas asks him.
"A date?"
"Yes."
Dean looks down at their hands. He loves how beautiful Cas's are. He wishes Cas would stop being so damn polite and courteous and just take him here and now.
_'Curse this stupid, beautiful baby in my pajama bottoms.'_
"So you want to date?" Dean asks Cas.
Dean braces himself for those killer blue eyes. He takes a chance and looks directly at Cas who is also looking back at him with a small smile and blush creeping up his cheeks. | 505228316a474ced89b8f6c194f59fac | ['e81d076eca4547fda0880e42552430b8'] | I smile, "Actually I was talking about my mom." I say.
We both sort of look at each other again and laugh.
"Do you want me to make you a sandwich?" He asks me.
I smile, "Did know you were a sub artisan."
Michael smiles, "I've got a few tricks up my sleeve." He replies.
I sit at the breakfast table and patiently watch Michael make me a sandwich.
He's possible the most beautiful sub artisan I've ever seen.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> "a few tricks up his sleeve" INDEED! God! Michael is going to be the Dorian Grey of American Horror Story. Cherub looking little shit. I HATE MYSELF FOR THIS. I still love this story though. I'm conflicted help me.
> Thanks for reading.
4. Cherub Little Shit: Michael
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Now it's Michael's turn to share or not share. Whatever. He's my precious evil son. Who must be stopped.
I come in around twelve o'clock. I know mom's waiting for me. I could smell the cigarette tar from the walk way.
"You're definitely late." I hear her say.
I put my bag down. Big mistake.
"Young man you take that filth up to your room but before you that you better take off those shoes." She says.
Walking out of the living room toward me. Bleach blonde hair, those tired, dark hazel eyes. Skylar's eyes are light brown. They're prettier and despite all the bullshit she seemed to have gone through, are much happier. Mother has been worrying about me all this time. I plant a kiss on her cheek.
"Sorry mama." I say before taking off my shoes.
"You've got red on you." She says grabbing a tissue ready to wipe it off.
"Mom, no I don't want to leava trace." I say gently moving the tissue from my face.
"It wasn't that... _girl_ was it?" She practically spits me.
_'That girl,'_ As if the very beauty was vermin, "I wouldn't lay a hand on her." I say.
"I'm sorry," Mama sighs, "I just... I pray you don't get caught and praying my child can only do so much for a woman my age." She says, taking another long drag from her cigarette.
"Mama, you are the most beautiful mother in the world." I reply.
She repays my comment with a smile. I'm probably one of the few who see her smile like this. I wonder what she must think of me. Her only son going off every time I need to _release_ and that's always on a whim. I could go all _Repo! Genetic Opera_ and blame genetics for my sickness, but mom never talks about dad. She doesn't acknowledge him. She treats him like a pet that dies and you replace it with a video game or a day at Disneyland, that way you don't remember what tragedy happened. But after you finish the game, after all the magic closes at ten, you're left with the emptiness. An emptiness that you can never replace.
"I'm going to go clean up and take a shower." I say as I walk down the hallway up the staircase to my room.
Soap, hot water, a toothbrush, and a scrubber; boots, jacket and my bag are clean. Next is the body. I look at the blood on my face. Not my blood, but the blood of the cafeteria lady at my school. Her killing wasn't too hard to do. She was old, weak, and very quiet, not my normal type, but I blame _her._ Skylar. As I wash my face I can't help but notice a strand of her hair on my chest. The scent of her perfume mixed in with the scent of blood and Clorox and of course her cherry chap stick from when I was kissing her. It's sort of her fault that I killed the lunch lady. My type is usually young girls or old men, sometimes homeless people, but mostly young girls. I guess I only killed her because she had always been a quiet, shy lady that nobody really knew about or probably cared about. I can't really change anything now considering she's dead.
I can't help but feel disgusted with myself. How could Mom ask if I killed Skylar. She's the most beautiful creature on this Earth. If I were the darkness surrounding someone, she'd be the light at the end of the tunnel, signaling a safe haven.
After I'm done I fall on to my bed. It's about two now, which gives me until seven to sleep. As I get under my blanket the face of the lady fades and in its place is Skylar's. I knew something was there between us something so right. It was meant to be, and I'm so glad she accepted my kiss in that creepy basement. I don't know what is it about that house. I feel like I had been there before but that was my first time setting foot in that place. I don't know what's wrong with the house, however, it does gives mom the creeps. She never wants to talk about her past, especially that house.
I'm strangely attracted to it, and now I'm extremely attracted to the girl living in that house. I look out my window form my bed. I can barely see the top of the house from where I'm laying. I see the light on, so I assume that's Skylar's room.
I wonder what she's doing in there.
Is she thinking about me as much as I'm thinking about her?
I close my eyes and envision her being right next to me in my bed. I miss the softness of her skin. The heat from her breath. I'm interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Good night Michael." Says Mom from the other side. |
0942d6e3edd14a68b4503f85de68cdaa | ['e82f296fa4c34b5a8cf9c2cc2977cb73'] | Dean smirked at Cas. He walked back over to him and cupped his face. "Cas, baby, I don't know what you're so nervous about. I get being a little nervous, but not this nervous."
"I've told you why I'm nervous…"
"And I've told you that if tonight ends badly it will not put any stress on this relationship. Cas, I love you. Do you understand that? I don't say that lightly. No matter the outcome of tonight, you and me, we're together. In the morning, we're going to fix breakfast and you're going to do your homework while I tune up the Impala and then I say we go out and see a movie… or maybe see what's on Netflix," he said grinning slyly, giving Cas a pointed look that told him they could see what was on Netflix, but he doubted much movie watching would be done.
Cas smiled at Dean. "Thanks," he said softly.
Dean leaned forward and kissed Cas. "For what?"
"For calming me down."
"It's only going to last for a moment," Dean poked fun. He can't remember how many times he's had this conversation with Cas since he'd been back from Florida. Too many, he knew that for a fact. "Sam and Jess are going to come over before we all head out to Mom and Dad's."
"Oh, okay," Cas said nervously.
"And it's gone."
Cas sighed. "Sorry," he said as he turned back to the closet.
Dean wrapped his arms around the half-naked man standing in front of him. "I think you should wear your dark blue shirt and black vest with that little white pocket thing."
"It's a pocket square, Dean."
"You'll wear it for me? I love it when you wear blue."
Cas smiled. "Okay," he said softly.
Dean kissed the back of Cas' neck. "Awesome. I'm going to go get a shower so I can be dressed before they show up," Dean told Cas, smacking his ass playfully before heading into the bathroom.
^O^
Drinks with Sam and Jess helped Cas a little. The four of them sat out in the back yard and had a couple of beers, laughing and talking about Sam and Dean's childhood. Cas decided that this was going to happen on a regular basis and Jess was in full agreement. They made plans to hang out next weekend with Dean cooking for everyone.
But that happy moment seemed like it happened years ago as they pulled up into Mary and John Winchester's driveway. Dean cut off the Impala and looked over at Cas. "You ready?"
Cas' bitchface made Dean laugh, but he took Cas' hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. "Come on, Cas. It's now or never."
"Never is okay with me."
Dean rolled his eyes and pulled his boyfriend out of the car behind him. Sam and Jess were waiting for them at the edge of the garage. Jess gave Cas' hand a squeeze as they walked towards the front door. Cas smiled at her as Sam opened the door.
"We're here!" he called out.
Cas heard a woman's voice – Mary Winchester's. "Oh, great! You guys have perfect timing!"
Cas looked over at Dean, who winked at him as they walked in the door. Dean hadn't let go of Cas' hand, as a matter of fact, the vice grip Dean had around his hand made Cas think Dean thought he was a flight risk. "Come on in," Mary told them, walking out of the kitchen. "John is out back about to take the food off the grill. Bobby, Benny, and Andrea are on their way."
Mary locked eyes with Cas. She quickly looked down at Dean holding Cas' hand, then up at her son's wide green eyes. Dean smiled at his mother. "Mom, this is Cas. Cas, this is my mom, Mary."
Cas swallowed hard and stuck out his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you," Cas said, in a shaky voice as he smiled kindly to the shorter blonde woman.
Mary hesitated for a second. She had to process everything, remembering conversations she had with her son and realizing he'd never used a pronoun when talking about his Cas. "You – you're Cas?" she asked bluntly.
Cas' smile faded as he nodded his head, lowering his hand back down by his side. Dean waited for his mom to say something, do something. She definitely wasn't expecting Dean to bring home a guy. She remembered all the happy things Dean had talked about, though; how much he really liked Cas and how happy he finally was.
Mary stepped forward and hugged Cas. "It's really nice to meet you, Cas. I'm sorry my son put us on the spot like that. Manners are something Dean didn't absorb as a child," she said as she pulled away from Cas and hit Dean on the arm.
"Ouch!"
"You deserve worse," she told him with narrowed eyes. She took Cas' hand and lead them into the kitchen. "Come on in here. I need help taking all this stuff out. I've smelled John cooking for the past hour and I'm starving."
Cas smiled brightly at the quick acceptance from Mary. He looked up at Dean to find him smiling just as brightly as him. There was no way John wouldn't be just as accepting if his wife took to him so quickly. Cas relaxed. Everything was going to be okay.
"Okay, if everyone can grab something to bring outside, we can eat," Mary said excitedly.
Dean, Sam, and Jess cheered. Apparently, John's cooking was very good. Cas couldn't wait. Everyone loaded themselves down with trays of side dishes and desserts. "I'll grab the pie," Dean said.
"Oh no, you don't," Cas insisted as he grabbed the pie before Dean. "If you get it, we'll never get it back." | 3e91be175a1349dabaae41f6c226c3d3 | ['e82f296fa4c34b5a8cf9c2cc2977cb73'] | "I should've known better than to compromise," Cas said as Dean was kissing on his neck.
"Resistance is futile," Dean mumbled against his collarbone.
Cas smiled at the reference. "Talk geeky to me, Dean."
Dean chuckled as he continued to kiss Cas, rolling his hips against him. Cas ran his hand down Dean's back, under his pajama pants, and grabbed his ass, using the leverage to push himself against Dean. Before anything could really pick up, someone knocked at the door.
"You fucking jinxed us, Cas," Dean accused as he got off of Cas.
Cas laughed out loud. "You're the one that ordered pizza."
"Still jinxed us," he said as he tried to situate his growing cock.
"Need some help, Dean?" Cas asked innocently from where he continued to lay on the couch.
Dean narrowed his eyes at the man before grabbing the shirt off the couch and putting it on, pulling it down to help hid the protruding front of his pants. Cas smiled brightly at Dean before he turned to go to the door.
^O^
Cas smiled against his pillow. Instead of waking up to the smell of breakfast like the last time he was at Dean's, he woke up to kisses being pressed against his shoulders. After dinner, they watched crappy horror movies and made out all night, with the occasional hand job. Once Cas started yawning, Dean cut off the movie and demanded Cas go to bed so he wouldn't be tired in the morning. Cas curled up on Dean's chest and promptly passed out after telling him to make sure he didn't over sleep.
Cas rolled over and smiled at Dean's bed head. It was in a messy fauxhawk. "How can you wake up looking good?"
Dean shrugged. "It's a gift," he said in a voice raspy with sleep.
"Is it time to get up?" Cas asked as he let his eyes close.
"It is."
Cas groaned unhappily. Dean pressed a couple of kisses to his neck and shoulder. "If you get up, I'll make you breakfast."
"Pancakes?"
"I'll make you pancakes."
"And bacon?"
"And bacon."
"Can I have eggs, too?"
"You can have eggs, too."
"Will there be coffee?"
"Of course."
Cas smiled. "You're the best, Dean," he said as he opened his eyes.
Dean smiled down at him, running his hand over Cas' chest. "I know," he told him with a wink.
Cas chuckled and watched Dean get out of bed. Dean walked over to the dresser in all his wondrous naked glory and grabbed a pair of boxer briefs out of the drawer. Cas grinned as he watched Dean put them on. Dean deserved something nice for getting up this early on his day off and cooking Cas breakfast.
"Dean, wait," Cas called out as he sat on the side of the bed facing Dean.
"Yes, dear?" Dean asked as he walked back over to Cas. As soon as he was in arms' reach, Cas grabbed his hips and pulled Dean to stand between his legs.
"You really are the best, Dean," Cas said as he pulled Dean's underwear down slowly. "You didn't have to get up to make me breakfast," he said as he pressed a kiss right above Dean's dick.
Dean ran his hands through Cas' hair. Cas thought Dean looked good when he woke up, but Cas gave him a run for his money. "You know I don't mind, Cas."
Cas finally pulled his underwear down far enough for his cock to pop out. Cas pressed his face against Dean. "That's what makes you the best."
Dean didn't have a chance to respond before Cas swallowed him down. "Fuck," he hissed.
Cas looked up at him with his big blue eyes, making Dean bite his lip. It was such a beautiful sight to look down and see Cas sucking his dick. Dean left one hand in Cas' hair and let his other hand travel, rubbing his back and chest, tweeking his nipple. He tried to reach down to grab Cas, but Cas pushed his hand away. He pulled back and looked up at Dean. "This is for you, Dean."
Dean stopped Cas from putting his dick back in his mouth. "Wait, Cas you don't owe me anything for cooking you breakfast," Dean said as he pulled Cas up on his feet. He paused a minute to enjoy the way his dick rubbed against Cas', sighing shakily at the sensation. "I'm cooking you breakfast because I care about you. It's what I do. I take care of the people that mean a lot to me. I don't want a blowjob as a reward," he told him. "I want it because you want to do it."
Cas reached down and pushed Dean's underwear down until they were puddled around his feet. He got on the bed, pulling Dean to get in bed with him. Cas kissed him slowly, sucking on his plump bottom lip as he pulled away from him. "Then breakfast can wait," Cas told him as he pushed Dean onto his back.
Cas straddled Dean's lap, grabbing his dick and rubbing it against his. Dean sat up and pulled Cas down to kiss him as Cas continued to jerk them off together. Dean ran his hands down Cas' back, grabbing two handfuls of his ass and squeezing tight. Cas moaned into the kiss as Dean ran his finger over his hole. Dean wanted to fuck Cas so bad, but he didn't bring it up. Cas said he wanted to take things slow and they had just started fooling around last night. He didn't want to push the subject, but that didn't mean he didn't want it any less. |
de11762e3f6f424183211f6aeaee6825 | ['e8804fcddd07478697ccde0e94e938d2'] | Most everyone was in a guild by now, with their own circles of friends, and it'd be awkward if he just joined one like that. Seokjin didn't have any in-game friends to speak of, and god forbid that any of his "real life" friends he had find out that he was the "Genie" in the Devil's Den. If word got out that he was a reasonably well-known figure in Vitae, the hottest game right now, people would be clamouring to find him in game. While that seemed like a convenient answer to his problem, he wanted to challenge himself by making new friends in-game.
He supposed that he could approach customers that seemed interested in the prospect of being in a guild with him. Just...who?
As if on cue, his train of thought was broken by a loud _ **crack**_ and the sound of a few startled yelps. Seokjin pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing loudly. This happened every other week. He supposed he could start with this one. Any potential ally, serial destroyer or not, would be better than lobbing pies at enemies together with some other Baker anyway. Beggars can't be choosers. He leapt over the counter, ready to deal with whatever mess his favourite customer brought with him this time.
**Author's Note:**
> Remember that one VLIVE where Seokjin was playing this online game? That outfit? That's the image I had of him when I was writing him here, the freelancer outfit. Please imagine that.
> (PSA: Freelancer is like having no class/job. Think of it as a casual/ default sort of outfit.)
>
> I don't think I did the best job at describing it, so if you'd like references so as to what Seokjin's cafe looks like, please google "artbox festival stall"! Sooomething like that.
>
> Cry with me about games and BTS AUs on tumblr and twitter! (@/jinminty on both)
>
> I apologise in advance for the game lingo! Feel free to leave comments if you have any questions or if you spot any language errors! | daa4118de968430f83ba797d9ad9ece4 | ['e8804fcddd07478697ccde0e94e938d2'] |
role playing, role praying
**Author's Note:**
> some things to note.
> 1\. The classes/jobs/occupations/whatever will be largely based off those in the Bravely series, though some in the future might be a mishmash from other games! I'll put it in the notes if necessary.
>
> 2\. In the Bravely series, players can have access to the abilities of two classes at the same time. I'll be applying this, so if they seem overpowered, this might be why!
>
> 3\. The "game" itself will be a mishmash of concepts from other games/stories! If they seem familiar it might be because I've put them through the blender and spat them back out here.
>
> 4\. The characters, when using their abilities, have to wear the default outfits of their classes! For example, a knight has to wear armor. So on and so forth.
>
> 5\. I'll be updating the tags as I go along! There'll be ships involved later, but since there aren't any for now, I haven't tagged any relationships/pairings yet.
>
> -
> this fic is 100% self-indulgent. there's barely any fics about BTS and games so i did myself a service. buckle up friends, this fic is gonna take a while. enjoy!
**SEOKJIN**
**username: jinnie**
**-** **
february; spring**
Vitae. The hottest game in the world ever since it was released, with promises of a “second life” in a fantasy-based virtual reality. It was raved about by the company’s staff members even when it was still in the testing stages, because every little thing in game- every sight, sound, smell, every little bit of pain; everything felt as if it were real. It was almost ironic that the company that created the game was called BigHit, seeing as how much the game blew up, even though the company was a tiny one.
It was a lot better than Seokjin had expected it to be. He'd bought it a week after its release, back in November, feeling a little skeptical of all the attention it was getting from the media ( _how good could a fantasy virtual reality Sims ripoff get anyway?_ ) _._ _Ha, look at him now! Here_ he was, months in and emotionally invested.
It was a game that gave the player a lot of freedom to make their own choices, and boy, did Seokjin love it. Even though player avatars were based off the players themselves, he'd decided to change his avatar's race from human to part demon, along with his hair colour. That's how Seokjin ended up looking the way he did- with muted pink hair, a pair of small demon horns with a tail to match, along with slightly pointy ears. He was already good looking to begin with, tall and muscular and blessed with good features, so this was all just icing on the cake. He wasn't the slightest bit devilish in terms of personality or nature, he just wanted to spice things up a bit to give strangers that impression. After all, you could be whoever you wanted to be online! Being less than holy for a change seemed like a fun idea.
From when he’d popped up in his starting town up till now, he was whispered about as the epitome of the term "handsome devil", turning heads of all kinds when he walked by. He'd gained a reputation rather quickly, getting endless party requests and offers to train together from both men and women alike. How could he not when he was dressed the way he was, in a black button down made of silk with black pants to match that complimented his figure perfectly. Even NPCs turned a little red when he smiled at them. The Valentine's event that had just passed had been a mess, with people of all sorts flooding his in-game inbox with cheesy pickups, letters and gifts of all kinds. Not that he could complain though, some of the gifts he’d gotten had been super useful, like boosts to increase the number of EXP (Experience Points) he got from training, and extra equipment.
Vitae was, as Seokjin had found, extremely fun and addictive. Gameplay was easy to pick up and learn, what with most everything being accessible via voice-activated commands and simple taps or flicks of a finger. While Seokjin occasionally enjoyed a good action game as much as the next guy in his 20s, he didn't want anything too stressful, and Vitae provided him with just that. He could peacefully fight monsters and beasts and gain experience points, but there wasn't any compulsory story that he'd have to grind through. Of course, what Seokjin did was to max out the level of classes, or jobs, he was in, before trading in most of his accumulated gold to open his own café.
It wasn't so much of a café than him trading in his gold for a huge metal cargo container, the kind you'd usually see on ships. He'd somehow managed to make it look decent, by opening most of its sides, placing tables and chairs and fairy lights around it, and creating a makeshift counter on the inside, out of wood that was dropped by some tree monsters. When he felt lazy he could just skip setting up the tables and pass it off as a stall instead, so honestly, that was extra convenient. It was portable ( _god bless the black hole known as in-game inventory space_ ) and easy to set up, so Seokjin had no complaints whatsoever. He'd wanted to travel this world and meet new people anyway, no point having a proper cafe stuck at one point on the map. The fact that he had managed to turn a metal cargo container into a place, much less a café, that seemed rather quaint and comfortable to dine at, was actually astounding. Seokjin himself was stunned sometimes, if he gave himself time to think about it. |
b28b7639e0654e6c95c777aba36f5db9 | ['e8c8c788b7724c8d867ee265d88b6b39'] | Beth began fidgeting in her sleep. A soft moan, followed by a yawn, escaped her lips. Her eyes fluttered open with such goddamn _grace_. Daryl remembered watching those damn Hollywood movies with the pretty girls, how they’d stretch their arms high in the air before wrapping the blankets closer to their bodies for warmth. How they looked so damn flawless. He thought it was a load of complete fucking bullshit.
Beth didn’t look a damn thing like Scarlett, and she was still a thousand times better than Hollywood. The nights were cold now, but despite this – the close contact with Daryl’s leather jacket left Beth sweaty and warm, her blonde, flyaway curls now matted against her forehead.
She didn’t move right away. Stayed right there, pressed up against him, wrapping her arms tighter around his waist. Daryl’s heart beat quickened as a result, and he held his breath momentarily, wondering what the hell was inside that pretty damn head of hers. Finally, Beth sighed and began to loosen her grip on Daryl before pulling away from him entirely.
Daryl let out the breath that he’d been holding in, a sigh of disappointment following from the lack of warmth from her skin. It took Beth a few seconds to gather herself, but eventually, she looked up at Daryl, soft eyes examining him for a moment.
“You didn’t sleep. _Again_ …” She’d phrased it like a question, but it sure as hell didn’t sound like one. More of an observation, really.
“Nah. Wasn’t tired,” he lied, shrugging his shoulders as he stood to his feet, stretching his sore limbs. “Some peaches in my bag.” He told her, grabbing his crossbow from a chair in the corner of the room they shared.
“Wait, where are you goin’?!” Beth sat up in bed quickly, eyes wild and frantic.
“Gonna take a piss.”
“Oh.” She relaxed slightly, cheeks red as she wrapped the blanket tight around her shoulders. “Well, be careful,” she added in, a little awkward.
Daryl snorted. “Be careful taking a piss?”
And, for the first time in ten days, a giggle escaped Beth’s lips. She shook her head bashfully, pursing her lips together to suppress another giggle.
“You know what I mean…”
Daryl made sure that the perimeter was secure, their string of cans still intact, before relieving himself on the back of the mobile home. He stayed close, knowing Beth would worry if he was gone for too long.
And then, like always, the snarl of a nearby walker could be heard stumbling through the trees. Daryl loaded up his crossbow quickly, aiming carefully as the dead stumbled through some trees and made itself known. With arms outstretched towards Daryl, teeth chomping into the air, Daryl almost felt sorry for the poor bastard. It looked fresh – and it looked like it’d been a survivor, too. A machete and a crowbar were hanging off its backpack, along with a few bottles of water and a flashlight.
“Ugly son a’ bitch,” Daryl grunted before pulling the trigger. His bolt landed in the walker’s eye before it collapsed onto the ground with no such grace whatsoever. Daryl stripped the man of any and all of his supplies – including the long coat he’d been wearing. It’d come in handy, now that winter was quickly approaching.
Suddenly, a few more snarls could be heard, and just as Daryl was about to stand to his feet, he heard a loud crash come from inside the trailer. _Beth_.
Scrambling to the front door, Daryl pushed his way inside, newly acquired machete in hand, to find Beth on the floor of the kitchen with a few paper plates scattered next to her.
Daryl made a noise and his face twitched in slight confusion. Beth began giggling. Two times in half an hour? Things were looking up.
“Was trying to find some plates for the food. Slipped,” she managed in between giggles, before her expression fell. “Daryl, behind you!”
He’d forgotten to shut the damn door.
Beth’s warning came a little too late, because a handful of walkers were pushing inside. One was on top of Daryl – and then another. Beth scrambled to her feet, grabbing the fallen machete next to Daryl’s body.
Using every ounce of his strength, Daryl shoved their necks upward, one by one, helping Beth’s decapitate a few of them in one quick swing. Their darkened blood spilled all over Daryl’s clothing, but that was the least of his worries. “The door,” Daryl managed to whisper he shoved the rest of them off. A herd was passing through, and if they had any sort of luck left, the rest of the dead would walk right past them.
Together, Beth and Daryl secured the front door with an old bookcase. The windows were already boarded up, but that by no means meant that they were safe. Daryl lifted a finger up to his mouth and, after picking up the bags from the kitchen, guided her to the only hallway in the mobile home. “Bathroom,” he mouthed, and she nodded, stepping inside behind him.
“I’m sorry,” Beth whispered, shuddering at the sight of Daryl.
“Just gotta be more careful. Both of us,” he clarified, because this was just as much his fault as it was hers. She slumped down next to the bathtub, eyeing the new pack he carried.
“Took it off a dead one. For you.”
She smiled up at him, taking it and untying the top. It was packed almost to the top with food and water. No weapons – aside from the crowbar and the machete that were hanging off the pack. And a journal.
“Could be stuck in here for a while,” he told Beth, clearing his throat.
“It’s okay,” she shrugged, glancing at him.
[ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ] | 0eb91a2ac42a4f10974b63f24889eaaf | ['e8c8c788b7724c8d867ee265d88b6b39'] | Before Daryl could protest, she began grinding her pussy on his cock. He grunted, eyes wide as he watched Beth work him with just her hips. She giggled and moaned like a mad woman, arching her back as she moved her hips in tiny little circles when she found a spot that she liked.
“Yeah, thassit, girl,” he grunted, cold hands sliding up her thighs and resting beneath the tank she still wore.
Beth was making a mess – dripping all over his cock. Her panties were soaked and dirty and she could tell that he fucking loved it. His praises only encouraged Beth to work that much harder.
It didn’t take long for Beth to completely lose it – a wave of pleasure overcame her. She sobbed and screamed and held onto his shoulders for dear life as one final spurt of clear liquid escaped her pussy. He was soaked. She rolled off of him quickly, not a dry spot left on her panties.
Daryl looked a little offended that she’d rolled off of him so fast. She fell back against a pillow. Beth spread her legs wide open, giving Daryl a clear view of her gray, cotton panties. The outline of her pussy lips could be seen.
There wasn’t a single dry spot on her underwear.
Beth’s eyes fell to his cock, urging him forward with a simple nod. His experienced hands fell down to the base of his cock, gripping it hard. Her mouth began to water as she saw the glints of her cum lathering his cock.
Daryl’s eyes stayed on Beth’s soaked panties the entire time.
And then, just because she could, just because she was _Beth_ , she reached down, using two fingers to swipe up the liquid that had dripped out of her panties.
She rubbed it all over her stomach before bringing the two fingers up to her lips, rubbing her sweet juices over her lips before sliding a finger inside.
Apparently, that’s what sent Daryl over.
“I’m gonna cum all over you,” he announced. And, because she didn’t want to miss it, Beth crawled over, exhausted and still shaking from her orgasm. Beth placed her face directly below his cock, massaging his balls with one hand, flicking her tongue against his balls once. They’d never done that before, either.
She was full of surprises that night.
Daryl furiously worked at an orgasm. She’d seem him before, hunched over in secret, beating off whenever he thought she was asleep.
Sometimes he’d say her name.
As he jerked the tip of his cock one last time, she heard him moan loudly. The first spurt of cum landed above her eyes – the rest, near her cheek and mouth.
God, it was _so_ much. Her tiny, innocent little face was flushed red and covered in Daryl Dixon’s cum.
And she was hungry.
She wiped it off of her cheek, greedily shoving it into her mouth. He groaned, eyes closed as he fell back onto the pillow.
His heart was racing. She was finally satisfied.
“The hell… was that?” Daryl mustered in between labored breathing.
She smirked. “I was bored and couldn’t sleep.”
“Mmm,” Daryl replied, amused. His eyes were closed. He’d go back to sleep soon. She would, too. She was exhausted now.
Daryl didn’t usually hold her unless she asked. But that night, he grabbed her by the waist and dragged her to his side until there was no space left between them.
He buried his face into her hair, and after only a few seconds, he was asleep – his pants still halfway down and all.
She needed to get her rest, too. After all – she had big plans for tomorrow night. |
8461676713f74a4d8f6cdca91b11bf0f | ['e8da935f77914a048b2bc6a2120510d9'] | “The topic of my detentions did come up. Snape’s mad at me again and wanted to increase my punishment. Dumbledore declined, but said the next slip-up will mean expulsion,” Harry admitted.
“What did you do Harry?” Hermione asked, like he had just admitted to killing puppies.
“I ran into Malfoy again right before dinner. We fought and I hexed him. Snape found us and set Malfoy right, but he was furious in a way I’d never seen before. If you thought he was scary before, that was nothing to tonight.”
“Oh Harry, you didn’t?” Hermione asked.
“But Dumbledore was on your side, right? That’s good mate,” Ron said.
Harry just nodded and hoped they would drop it.
“Why did you even run into Malfoy before dinner? I thought you were practicing occlumency?” Hermione asked.
“I was earlier, but we finished up. Then I went to see Snape and Malfoy was also going to see Snape and we ran into each other in the dungeons.”
“Why’d you go to see Snape? You had detention with him after dinner, why didn’t you just wait until then to talk to him?” Ron asked. He made deliberately going to talk to Snape sound like it was an awful thing.
“Yes Harry, why _would_ you go see him? It wasn’t to ask about me helping you in detention tonight, was it? I should’ve never let you ask; you almost got expelled over me,” Hermione said. She seemed very distressed at this notion.
“No Hermione, I wasn’t going there to ask him about you. By that time I had forgotten all about it,” Harry tried to reassure her.
“Then what was it?” Ron asked.
“I said it’s personal,” Harry began to explain. “Have either of you heard of Peverell men?”
“Yeah,” Ron replied.
“I’ve come across the name, but I’m not familiar with the family. It’s one of the old wizarding families, isn’t it?” Hermione asked.
“It’s not just a family, Hermione,” Ron said.
“Yeah, they’re an old wizard family, but it’s also a term to describe wizards with part centaur ancestry,” Harry explained.
“Centaur? Well if giants, veelas, and goblins can all interbreed with humans, why not centaurs too?” Hermione asked. “But what’s this got to do with visiting Snape?”
“Well it turns out I’m one; a Peverell man, that is,” Harry said.
“No, you can’t be. I’ve seen you…um…” Ron trailed off, his ears turning a bright shade of red.
“What’s he talking about Harry?” Hermione asked.
“Peverell men are normally noticed at birth, because they have a centaur’s, you know? Down there?” Harry felt _very_ uncomfortable saying it in front of Hermione.
“But Harry doesn’t have anything like that. He’s all human,” Ron added, still red.
“Okay, so how’d you find out?” Hermione asked.
“Well I was going to the bathroom…” Harry trailed off trying to figure out the rest of this lie and hoping Hermione would come up with something for him.
“And what? It just popped out or something?” Hermione asked.
“Blood?” Ron asked, gulping.
“Yeah, blood,” Harry said. Good old Ron. Now just wait for Hermione to make sense of that and he’d have his lie.
“Blood? From where? Your bits?” Hermione whispered the last word.
“No, the bum,” Ron clarified.
“Yeah. I was worried, so I went to see Snape and ran into Malfoy,” Harry concluded.
“Why would there be blood from Harry’s bum, if he’s part centaur?” Hermione was still confused.
“It’s complicated,” Harry replied.
“Yeah,” Ron added.
“Okay, I’ll read up on it. Continue,” Hermione said.
“Whew,” Ron replied, grateful that he wouldn’t have to explain the facts of centaur life to his maybe-sort-of girlfriend.
“So once the fight with Malfoy was settled, I revealed why I had gone to see Snape, and he and Dumbledore explained to me about being a Peverell,” Harry concluded.
“But why would you go to Snape for that? Why not Madam Pomfrey?” Hermione asked.
“Yeah, when there’s blood on your bum, better tell your mum,” Ron seconded with a saying his mum used to use to explain about Peverell wizards.
“Because it’s personal and Madam Pomfrey’s not a bloke,” Harry lied, because he didn’t want to admit Draco had been with him all day. It sounded like a good lie to him.
“But Madam Pomfrey is a healer,” Hermione argued.
“Still, when your bum is bleeding Hermione…” Harry said.
“You don’t want to have a witch looking at it,” Ron finished, guessing where Harry was going with this.
“Professor Snape said he gets this all the time in Slytherin house. Said Pomfrey just sends the Peverell boys over to him anyway,” Harry said shrugging.
“Yeah, I guess,” Hermione replied. “Are you still…um bleeding?”
“No, Snape fixed it,” Harry replied blushing.
“Fixed it how?” Hermione asked.
“You’re not going to, you know, anymore, right?” Ron asked.
“Right Ron. Bleeding’s finished and now I don’t have to worry about using the loo ever again,” Harry replied.
“What?” Hermione asked.
“Just read up on it,” Ron suggested.
“That’s what Dumbledore said. He gave me a book and the basket,” Harry said referring to the basket on his bedside table. He reached into his backpack and grabbed the book to hand to Hermione.
“Pregnancy in Peverell Wizard,” Hermione read. “This will be very…um…interesting. I’ll just go read it now.”
“Alright, but I want to read it too, so please bring it back,” Harry replied. Hermione nodded and left.
“So how do you feel?” Ron asked concerned.
“Mentally exhausted. I didn’t even know there was such a thing as Peverell men,” Harry admitted.
“Do you want to…um…talk about it?” Ron gulped nervously.
“No, I’d just like some time alone to think about it,” Harry replied.
“Okay.” Ron stood up and walked towards the door to leave, but before he did, he asked, “Did you get anything good in the basket?”
“Yeah, some potions to make sex for Peverell men easier. There’s a contraceptive potion in here if you want it,” Harry offered. | 94fce40b862e4b889a8faf14738f5d36 | ['e8da935f77914a048b2bc6a2120510d9'] | But Adriel’s abilities were not strong. He could warp the fabric of space around him to decrease the pull of gravity, but not eliminate it. He could increase or decrease momentum, but only by small increments. Basically, if falling, he could slowly glide down to the ground. Or he could make an object fall to the ground faster. He could increase or decrease his speed, the speed of others, or of objects. But he could not open wormholes or travel through space faster than the speed of light, like in science fiction movies.
When it came time to look for a host, Carlisle found an old Inuit woman, named Eohona, dying of liver failure. She was from a neighboring village and our local village told hers of the white doctors who had been treating them for free; and of Nakkertok’s miraculous recovery. Word spread quickly and Eohona and her two daughters, Eureka and Aoreka, made the long trek north in hopes of curing her.
Eohona was seventy years old and suffering from hepatitis. If we had gotten to her sooner and given her modern treatments, she could have been cured, but now it was too late. She needed a liver, but she would never get one, because of who she was. Even if she had access to modern medical care, she still would not be eligible for transplantation, because there were no compatible livers available. There were plenty of livers around for Caucasians, but not Inuits.
No longer were body parts removed from the dead in the name of saving another’s life. Organ donation was now considered barbaric and unsanitary, because stem cell research had led to test-tube organs. Organs were custom made to match the receiver, with everything from sheets of skin to hearts regularly being manufactured specifically for each recipient. It was a time consuming and costly process, but it was standardized and available for most people.
Because each human was different and unique, organ production started with the isolation of somatic stem cells harvested from the recipient’s own body, which were then taken through a protocol that was dependent upon both type of organ needed and genetic profile. The common genetic profiles of all the major races were already thoroughly studied, with scientists currently researching the rarer profiles. But minor races, such as the Inuit, were ignored completely.
Inuit gene expression patterns were unknown, so even if somatic stem cells were harvested, the series of steps necessary to reprogram them into pluripotent cells, and then further into liver cells, was unknown. There were so few Inuits alive that financially it just did not make sense to find or develop cures for them, no matter how unethical that sounded.
Carlisle and I tried to grow a liver for Eohona using the most common protocol and her own cells. And when that did not work, we attempted other protocols and adjusted the procedure in the hopes of developing a new protocol ourselves, but neither of us was trained in that particular field of medicine, and even with Allison’s help, we still failed. We had no liver to give Eohona and did not think that she would survive the wait associated with another attempt, so we gave her an egg instead. The next day she was cured.
Eohona wanted to go home, but Carlisle and I convinced her that she needed to stay in this village. We told her that she would only stay healthy if we kept treating her. We brought her pill bottles full of placebos to take and told her to stay inside and out of the frigid environment. We said that any strenuous activity, like the trek home, would make her sick again; we would say anything to keep her close by.
Carlisle and I were convincing and Eohona believed our word, so she and her family stayed, keeping Esme’s egg close to home. Now both Esme and Emmett had hosts among the local Inuit. We had to make regular trips to check on Nakkertok anyway and now we just added checking on Eohona, getting both tasks over with at the same time.
The day after Eohona’s implantation was a Saturday, and every Saturday, Bella took Masen to hang out at Jasper’s house, while I went to Emmett’s house with Eliza. As Masen and Eliza grew, Bella had decided that time apart from each other would curtail their sibling rivalry, and thus suggested separate play dates every weekend. She thought that they would feel special if they each had their own separate activities. And although I was loath to be away from my wife, I grudgingly agreed.
Masen would play with Jackson and Allison at their house, while Bella and Jasper talked about how much they missed Alice. Bella missed her best friend more and more every day and Jasper was still having a hard time coping without his wife, despite his frequent visits. It seemed the separation was harder for him than any of us had imagined.
We were all taking turns keeping Jasper company in the hope that it would help make the separation more bearable. And although my presence wore thin years ago, Bella and Jasper bonded in Alice’s absence, because they now had something in common in that they had both endured the loss of someone they loved. Of course Jasper still saw Alice once a year and talked to her everyday, but he had been separated from her for eight years now, which was more than comparable to the six months in which Bella had been separated from myself. |
b7b3830fbb8c47bc99d78c0952abb807 | ['e8df949792b64ceabf5a1345ec5e19ec'] | i dont think i appreciate ur tone there kacchan
**Fuck Off™**
WHO THE FCUK CARES U FUCKING SHITTY NERD FIGHT ME RN OR I'LL BURN UR ALL MIGHT POSRTER
**Memedoriya
** YIOU DONT EVEN KNOW WHERE I LIVE
**Fuck Off™
** You wanna fucking bet bitc
**Memedoriya**
im scared
@ Todolowkey hold me
**Todolowkey**
k
**Ochacocoa**
gay
**Jirocknroll**
Yes
**#NoMomo**
Yes
**Ashidamn**
Issa no from me
**Memedoriya**
ye s
**Todolowkey**
Only for bae
@ Memedoriya
**Danki**
Im gay for pussy
**Seronade**
^ That makes no sense but ok
**Aoyuma**
I’m a flexi-ruler
**Memedoriya**
explain
**Aoyuma**
Straight until you bend me over a desk
**Danki**
ASDJFFKL
**Seronade**
_LMAOO_
**Ochacocoa
** Pfffft
I nearly spat out my juice gdi
**Todolowkey**
@ Memedoriya we should try that sometime
**Memedoriya**
Only if we do it at kacchans house
**Fuck Off™**
I THINK THE _FUCK_ NO T
**Todolowkey**
Wild, I'm down
**Fuck Off™**
_CAN U NOT FUCKING READ FUCKFACE_
* * *
**Ashidamn**
That reminds me @ Ochacocoa have u spoken to tsuyu recently
**Ochacocoa**
Yes! She's back from her field trip on Friday!!
**Ashidamn**
AHHH THATS GREAT!
**Jirocknroll**
Tsuyu's coming back?? Nice
**Fuck Off™**
dont tell me theres more of u fucks
**Todolowkey**
You are now one of those fucks
**Fuck Off™**
like shit i am
**Memedoriya**
@ Fuck Off™ pretty much all our high school buddies kacchan :P
**Fuck Off™**
no fucking way nerd
even shitsou?
**Memedoriya**
_ESPECIALLY_ SHINSOU
he's away visiting family tho :(
**Fuck Off™**
jfc no
thank fuck
**Ashidamn**
Aww i hope he comes back soon i miss the rest of our fam
especially toko‘s emo ass uwu
**Ochacocoa**
and his ass in general i bet
**Ashidamn**
hey in my defence
its a very nice ass
* * *
**Eijibro
** IM BACK WHO MISSE D MEEE
**Seronade**
you literally left for 20 minutes
**Memedoriya
** kacchan missed u lots & lots he even called me and confessed his undying love for u @Eijibro
**Fuck Off™
** Fucking fuck off u _fuck_
**Seronade**
Wow bakugou
your insults are improving
**Danki**
Colour me impressed
**Fuck Off™**
Eat shit and die fuckface
**Ihaveaniida**
Bakugou! Please refrain from using such language on this christian server.
**Danki**
lol did iida just make a funny
**Eijibro**
Nice iida! That was so manly!
**Jirocknroll**
Shocking
**Seronade**
Im weirdly proud
**Fuck Off™**
@ Ihaveaniida _Please consume your own faeces, and then proceed to block your airways with said faeces._
**Eijibro**
??
**Memedoriya**
Kacchan n o
* * *
**#NoMomo**
@ Fuck Off **™**
**Fuck Off™
** Who @ me
**#NoMomo**
Hi! That would be me, Bakugou
**Fuck Off™**
what
**#NoMomo**
Have you read the rules?
**Jirocknroll**
Doubtful (¬_¬)
**Fuck Off™**
how about suck my dick @ Jirocknroll
@#NoMomo why in the three depths of fucking hell would i do that
**Jirocknroll**
Ew I'll pass
**Fuck Off™**
Your fuckin loss.
**#NoMomo
** Ohh. Well, I'll just tell you then!
**Fuck Off™**
Tell me fucking what
**#NoMomo**
That you need a nickname if you are to remain on this server~
**Fuck Off™**
gross i'll just leave now then if thats the fuckin case
**Memedoriya**
Noooo kacchan dont leave :(
**Fuck Off™
** piss off deku
and i'll pass on the shitty nickname gay shit thanks
**#NoMomo**
But.. It's a tradition! All of us have taken part in it :D
**Fuck Off™**
……..…………./´¯/
……..………..,/¯../
….……………./…./
…………./´¯/’…’/´¯¯`·¸
………./’/…/…./……./¨¯\
……..(‘(…´…´…. ¯~/’…’
………\……………..’…../
……….”…\………. _.·´
…………\…………..(
…………..\………….\…
_Eijibro is typing..._
**Jirocknroll**
Nice timing
@ Eijibro suck his dick
**Eijibro
** hey guys! **
** Whos dick am i sucking and what r the measurments
**Jirocknroll**
Bakugou's and gimme a sec
**Eijibro**
Kk
**Memedoriya**
is literally no one going to mention that kiri agreed to _sucking dick_
**Ochacocoa** _
Shh_
**Jirocknroll**
@ #NoMomo send me the size of a pea
**#NoMomo**
3.5 - 5.5 mm in length
**Ochacocoa**
Ashido u still on the phone to 911?
I want to report a sl a u g h t er
**Ashidamn**
I gotchu
@ 911 id like to add to my earlier claim
**Fuck Off™**
@ Everyone
...
**Todolowkey**
I'm here whats up
Oh its just bakugou nvm
**Ihaveaniida**
I got the notification!
Bakugou?
**Danki**
bet he's just getting the squad together to swear @ us in union
**Seronade**
^ yeah
**Aoyuma**
? Yes?
**Memedoriya**
o no
**Eijibro**
Katuski bro?
**Fuck Off™**
If youre gonna say my name spell it right dipshit
**Eijibro**
My bad
*Katsuki <3
_Fuck Off **™** is typing..._
**Danki**
here it comes
**Todolowkey**
@ Memedoriya is there any way to block him from typing?
**Memedoriya**
Omg shouto no
**Todolowkey**
Well i tried
**Fuck Off™**
The FitnessGram Pacer Test is a multistage aerobic capacity test that progressively gets more difficult as it continues. The 20 meter pacer test will begin in 30 seconds. Line up at the start. The running speed starts slowly but gets faster each minute after you hear this signal bodeboop. A single lap should be completed every time you hear this sound. ding Remember to run in a straight line and run as long as possible. The second time you fail to complete a lap before the sound, your test is over. The test will begin on the word start. On your mark. Get ready!… Start. ding
_Fuck Off ™ has left the server!_
**Danki**
DID _THAT JUST HAPPEN_
**Memedoriya**
h _OLY_ SHI T WHEE ZE
**Ochacocoa**
I,... didnt even know he knew any memes #shook
**Ashidamn**
BINCH MY WIG IS _SNATCHED_
**Seronade**
rt
**Aoyuma**
What a drama queen~
**Todolowkey**
That’s bakugou for you
* * *
**#NoMomo**
Bakugou still needs a nickname!
_Fuck Off ™ has joined the server!_
**Fuck Off™**
uhm the fuck i do bye
**Todolowkey**
Actually
It's in the rules that you didn't read
**Fuck Off™**
fucking
_UGGGHHHHHH why do u all have to be so ew_
**Todolowkey**
^ my exact reaction to u joining this server lolol
**Fuck Off™**
todoroki im _this_ close to smacking the fuck outta u
**Todolowkey**
those fingers are touching each other tho
**Fuck Off™**
_exactly_.
**Danki** | f2950ce4ac1d4f02a6262af88bf79c9c | ['e8df949792b64ceabf5a1345ec5e19ec'] | That was not exactly what Lance expected or really wanted to hear. "What?" He croaked.
"You summoned me." Keith sighed, rolling his eyes. "I can't go back until you let me." He admitted a bit sheepishly.
"Right. Summoned." Lance nodded as if this made perfect sense and he actually knew what this man was talking about. "How do I... un-summon you?"
"I don't know."
_God damn it._ (He was pretty sure he heard someone laughing at him.)
* * *
It wasn't cold, per say; Lance had just overestimated how warm he would be in his signature coat. (Really, it was the only coat he owned.)
" _Shit, shit, shit_." He chanted, teeth chattering as he jogged down the narrow street.
"You're going to freeze."
Oh _yes_. How could he forget about his lovely companion?
"Shut up," Lance hissed, walking _just_ that bit faster, "I don't want to hear anything from a weirdo who breaks into people's homes-" He glared at Keith from under his hoodie, " _naked_."
Keith's purple lookalike spluttered at the implication. "I _told_ you!" He shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Lance. "You _summoned_ me!"
"And how the fuck did I do that, _huh_?!" Lance threw his hands up.
"I don't know!" Keith retorted, suddenly sounding panicked. "Your microwave?" And that should not have sounded as serious as he made it to be.
Lance stopped walking and slapped a hand onto his face as he waited for the punchline. But when none came he cracked open an eye and raised his eyebrows in disbelief at the frown marring Keith's face.
"Y-You're serious?"
"Well, yeah. I mean, unless you can come up with a better reason-? Not like there _is-_ "
Lance easily drowned out what Keith was saying in favour of actually figuring out if his theory had any merit to it.
Summoning Keith's demon(because at this point Lance didn't know what the fuck else he was supposed to be), purple counterpart was not the function of a normal microwave. And the last time he checked, _his_ microwave was a completely normal, if older model, that he got for half price at some mall.
Like, sure after a while some of the buttons started fuckin' up, and today in particular he had to press the button with a faded number six on it at _least_ three times before it worked and-
_Are you shitting him right now?_
"So you're trying to tell me," Lance slowly spoke, bewildered at what Keith was suggesting, "that I summoned you-" he paused to take a breath, "with my _microwave_?"
He nodded.
Lance let out a strangled scream.
* * *
It was 7:51pm, and Lance had just burst through the back door of a certain restaurants kitchen.
"I'm here!" He shouted, slamming the door open with flair( _charisma_ ) that only he could possess. Though when the hustle and bustle from the kitchen carried on like his dramatic entrance never happened; he huffed and slowly shuffled along the wall and into the small staff room to put his waiter's apron on.
It was only when he was tying the second loop of his apron around his waist(#slimleansexgodmachine) that he noticed no one had batted a single eyelash at Keith following behind him doing that weird hover floating thing he does. (And wasn't _that_ a mindfuck when Lance first noticed it. No wonder Keith could creep up on him so well.)
_Someone's gotta notice..._ He absentmindedly eyed the swinging doors that separated the kitchen from the dining area.
"Get going, Lance!"
He yelped at the shout, and quickly fixed his stance so he didn't drop the twin plates of food suddenly shoved into his hands.
" _Shit_ -!Alright!"
...
_Something's up_ , He thought, schooling his face into a polite smile as he jotted down another customer's order.
Lance absentmindedly nodded when he finished taking their orders and tucked the little notepad into his aprons front pockets. A quick glance over to near the restaurants entrance had him pursing his lips in suspicion.
Keith, in all his skintight leather glory, was leant against a pale yellow wall with his arms crossed and such a scowl(pout) on his face that had Lance fighting off a grin.
He jolted in place when Keith's eyes met his, and Lance sent him a small thumbs up that he narrowed his eyes at before averting his gaze.
_Why can no one else see him?_
* * *
"Oh my _god._ " Lance collapsed into the booth opposite Hunk, just about stopping his head from hitting the table by cushioning it against his arms. "I forgot how many customers you guys get." He groaned.
" _Psssh_. Stop acting like such a baby, Lance!" Hunk laughed, "You've been waiting for, like, five years now!"
Lance grunted from his perch in his arms. "Still doesn't stop me from regretting it," he mumbled.
"Uh _huuuh-"_
"Lance!" A deep voice bellowed, interrupting their conversation. "How are you, my boy!"
Lance instantly perked up at the call of his name, eyes glistening at the older man that held plates of food stuffed on his arms. "Garrett-senior!" He greeted, smiling somewhat sheepishly at the man. "I was just telling Hunk here how much I love working as a-"
"Son, you best stop now before you say something you-" Hunk's dad paused, and with a quirk of his lips, said, " _regret_."
Lance let his head hit the table this time.
"Are you gonna eat all of this food?" Keith wondered, sliding into the booth beside Lance and warily staring at the plates carefully balancing on the newcomer's forearms. "Because I'm pretty sure you can't."
Lance sent him a 'fucking watch me' glare when he lifted his head back up. "Is that a chall-"
"What is Sendak's nephew doing here, Hunk?"
A very tense and sudden silence rained over them, and Lance felt Keith tense up beside him almost instantly at the sudden change in atmosphere. |
604da9a99df745cca4ccd6099ca2b005 | ['e8e8aa5253f24d98b6ea7b26d6451be1'] |
Afternoon Delight
Theo eyed the toy skeptically, still in its sleek box. It was small and very, _very_ pink. Looking up he found Liam grinning like a lunatic. He had the feeling there were more color options to choose from. **
**
“So…you want me to…”
“Put it in you, wear it, yeah, whatever,” Liam always babbled when excited over something.
“And this will…vibrate?” he asked slowly, looking back down
“Yep,” Liam sang, popping the ‘p’. “It has two motors so you get all the attention you need from inside and outside. I have an app on my phone so I can control it.” Jesus, Liam sounded like a fucking salesperson.
“How far are you supposed to be?”
“Pretty close, actually. This one doesn’t reach too far.”
“Okay, so…you want me to wear it…out?” he asked, trying to imagine this scenario. Sure, they’ve fooled around in the truck more than once, but this was something much riskier and much more…public.
There was a pause and Theo looked up again, finding Liam’s eyes. They were dark and half-lidded, unfocused, as if Liam was thinking about something else. Maybe he was imagining it too. Maybe he was enjoying the thought.
“Yeah,” he said eventually, picking up the box. “I want you to wear it out. I want you to sit there as if nothing’s wrong and I want to be able to turn this on whenever I feel like. And you’re gonna sit there like a good boy and take it. You’re not gonna make a sound, you’re not gonna give anything away, and you’re definitely not going to come.”
Theo swallowed thickly, mouth suddenly dry. It was baffling how quickly Liam went from a babbling idiot to tearing Theo apart, piece by piece, using a few simple words.
“Theo?”
“Mhm?”
“You don’t have to-”
“I want to,” he said firmly. As if he’d ever say no to Liam. Besides, he’d never failed to enjoy Liam’s ideas, despite how ridiculous they sounded at first.
“Okay, okay,” Liam said, still holding the box. “If you need me to stop, just give me the sign, okay? We’ll only go as far as you’re comfortable with.”
“I know, Liam,” he said with a smile.
“Good. Go take a shower, I’ll wash this. We have to leave soon.”
God, did he seriously just agree to wear a vibrating prostate massager for lunch with their friends?
* * *
“Bend over, baby,” Liam instructed, moving to kneel behind Theo on the bed. Theo did as told, bracing himself on his elbows and raising his ass. His body reacted instantaneously, hole clenching and cock growing hard. Unfortunately, he knew he won’t get fucked right now.
He heard the click of the tube as Liam slicked his fingers before he moved to rub over Theo’s entrance. He spread the lube around before pushing one, then two fingers inside, coating Theo’s inner walls with lube and stretching him slightly, just enough for the toy. Normally, Liam would take his time fingering Theo, but they didn’t have time to enjoy it now.
The toy wasn’t big but it was designed to press against someone’s prostate in the most maddening way. Theo felt it immediately, the tip resting against the bundle of nerves from the inside, while the base pressed snug against the perineum, holding the toy in place.
It felt so good already, how will Theo survive the vibrations?
“You’re so good to me, Theo,” Liam said, warm palm smoothing up and down Theo’s back. “God, you always look so fucking good with a toy in you.”
Theo moaned, clenching around the toy, the stretch and burn already fading away.
“Get up, sweetheart. Get dressed, we’re leaving.”
Theo should have at least demanded one orgasm before.
* * *
Theo coughed, shifting slightly in his seat. Corey was giving him suspicious looks every few minutes and Theo hoped his senses weren’t sharper than he’d originally thought.
“Who are you texting so much, Liam? Your boyfriend is right here,” Mason asked with his mouth full, making Corey turn his disapproving gaze to him instead. Theo sneered at that. Does this boy have any manners?
Liam smiled apologetically and put his phone face down on the table, not before Theo had managed to catch a glimpse. The massager was set to its second setting. Two out of ten. Theo is going to die.
“Sorry, just some friends from college,” Liam said, picking up his drink and putting his free arm around Theo’s shoulders, drawing him closer. He placed one kiss on Theo’s temple, simple and soft, but Theo couldn’t stop the blush forming on his cheeks. Mason was grinning at them as if it was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen, making Theo blush harder.
He loved it when Liam touched and kissed him in public, but he still had trouble getting over the embarrassment. Which was ridiculous considering he was currently hard and leaking in his jeans because of him.
Theo shifted again, trying to find a better position. He wasn’t sure if better meant turning away from the stimulation or giving in to it.
“Theo,” Liam said lightly, moving to steal a fry from Theo’s plate. Theo heard the warning loud and clear.
They continued eating and talking. Theo kept mostly quiet but luckily it wasn’t that different from his usual self. Liam was doing enough talking to gather Mason’s and Corey’s attention anyway. Theo tried to focus on his boyfriend’s words but all he could think of was the constant, soft vibration directly against his prostate. He clenched tightly around the toy as a particularly pleasurable pulse made his cock throb and leak more precum.
Theo felt drenched with precum. He was sure even humans could smell him right now. | 7e65e7adc9c44a06b4e4457b27cef1f1 | ['e8e8aa5253f24d98b6ea7b26d6451be1'] | He obviously did a lousy job, since Liam was still messaging him. Theo had no idea what the texts said since he threw the phone off the bed in a fit of tired rage. He should probably mute his phone. That’s the first thing he should’ve done as soon as he realized nothing was actually wrong, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He stopped questioning himself and the irrational way he acted when it came to Liam a while ago.
“Please stop,” he muttered as several more pings broke the silence in his room. He groaned, throwing the covers away from his body and picking up the phone from the floor. As expected most of the messages consisted of drunken babbling, some he couldn’t even begin to translate. He scrolled down, trying to figure out how the beta even managed to get drunk while texting him the _entire night_. The several last messages seem to suggest Liam got home safe, judging by the words parents (prtns) and room (rooome), but the last one…
A sense of Deja Vu came over him, bleary eyes suddenly focused on the attached photo. This time the mouth-watering image of Liam’s smooth skin and muscled belly was uninterrupted by the danger of stab injuries. The view was even better, Liam was standing, stretched, his jeans and boxers riding dangerously low. He was so focused on the image he barely noticed Liam the new texts.
Theo has several questions himself. First, how did Liam managed to spell the word ‘question’ correctly, but failed with ‘was’? Second, what made him think it’s a good idea to get blackout drunk the first time he drank spiked alcohol? And, most importantly, why the hell was he torturing Theo like this?! He thought they were over this, or at least pretending, he didn’t need Liam awakening this guilty heat low in his belly. He didn’t need another sleepless night thinking about what Liam smells like up close, what his warm skin tastes like and the sounds he makes when he’s being touched.
He clenched his fists to stop himself from replying or, Jesus, calling Liam but then, because the universe hates him, he gets an incoming call from the beta. He’s debating whether to answer it or let the call go to voicemail. The phone is vibrating softly, dulled by the sheets, 'bby wolf’ flashing on the screen. He picked up on the last ring, bringing the phone to his ear but not daring to make a sound.
“Theo?” Liam sounded breathless, his speech slightly slurred.
“Yeah?” he whispered, swallowing thickly.
He received a moan in answer, the sound like a punch in his guts. He strained his hearing to pick up more sounds; Liam soft breaths, the rasp of his body on the sheets, a wet repetitive sound.
Fuck.
_“Theo,”_ his voice was higher, still as breathless if not more.
Theo’s mouth was completely dry and his lips felt chapped. He knew he should hang up, if not for his own sanity then for the fact that Liam was clearly still drunk, but he just couldn’t. Guilt and self-doubt making way to painful arousal.
Liam whined, actually _whined_ and Theo bit back his own answering moan. His cock got so hard so fast it was making him lightheaded. “Please, I can’t, I can’t,” Liam begged, his breaths sounding harsh through the receiver.
“Wh-what?” he coughed out.
“Fuck…you don’t,” Liam was cut off by a soft moan, “you don’t even _know_.”
“What- Liam, what?” Theo asked, sitting helplessly on his bed, listening to the sounds Liam was making as he undoubtedly touched himself. While on the phone with Theo.
Liam let out a breathless laugh, almost a giggle again and Theo was reminded that the younger boy was drunk and Theo- he’s an asshole, but he’s trying, he’s not going to take advantage of Liam like that. Still, he couldn’t hang up or make Liam stop. Instead, he sat alone in his room, cock hard and trapped painfully in his sweats. He didn’t make a move to touch himself, but oh, he wanted to. Liam’s moans and grunts fueling the fire in his groin, making it so hard to hold back.
It wasn’t long before Liam’s moans turned into soundless gasps and Theo was worried he was actually going to come like this, completely untouched, brought to completion just by listening to Liam jerk off. He squeezed his eyes tight and clenched his fist, claws digging into his palm, as Liam gasped out his name one last time before groaning loudly.
They both breathed harshly, the metallic scent of blood doing little to calm Theo’s racing heart and throbbing cock. Was he- supposed to say something? Now is the time to hung up, probably. Definitely. He didn’t.
“Theo,” Liam whispered so quietly Theo was sure he wouldn’t be able to hear it without his enhanced hearing. “Night,” he said before the line went dead.
Theo put his phone down, staring at the screen. He was afraid to move, his entire body felt on edge and the pain in his cock was unbearable.
His phone lit up with a new message, from Liam of course, and he opened the messaging up slowly, almost afraid of what he’ll find there.
He was seriously fucked.
6. six
Theo had never felt so sexually frustrated in his life, and he spent his high-school years living with the Dread Doctors. Every time he closed his eyes he could hear Liam’s groans and pants, his sweet moans and the way his breath hitched when he finally came. He wouldn’t let himself jerk off to the memory, he wouldn’t break, no matter how much he wanted to.
What he needed to do was to plan. Theo was good at planning and Liam was such an easy target. He just needs to find the right time, the right words and most importantly take the right picture. |
b8ec007cdda048dc9b2ef99aa0ef444b | ['e912dfb9edff4b858e32000fa6493008'] | Hongbin laughs. ”Okay, now you're full of shit. That can't be possible.”
”Hey!” Jaehwan turns to him, face offended, and when he realizes his mistake and turns back to the television, his character is already dead. ”Look, you made me die,” he huffs. ”You murderer.”
Hongbin throws his head back and laughs. ”I never said it was a bad thing,” he says, face towards the ceiling. ”I like that you talk a lot.”
Jaehwan grunts in reponse. ”Do you want to give it a try?” he asks, holding out the controller for him.
”Sure,” Hongbin says, taking it in his hands. ”Watch me go further than you on my first try.”
”Okay, but I'm warning you, if you do our friendship is over, and I will deny to the whole world that I never even knew your name.” Hongbin laughs again, and lets his head slide off the backrest and onto Jaehwan's shoulder. Nothing has changed, Jaehwan doesn't push him away, and Hongbin feels as in love as he always has. He's long since past the point of suffering from it, too; he's content just like this, with Jaehwan being close to him out of his own free will rather than because of the promise of a relationship.
”So, you've been busy with Taekwoon,” Hongbin says as the screen loads. ”What have you guys been up to?”
”Not much,” Jaehwan tells him. ”Partying, mostly.”
”Really,” Hongbin says, because Jaehwan was honestly never much of a party person. Neither was Hongbin.
”Yeah, Taekwoon hyung is crazy about it,” Jaehwan explains. ”I've been going mostly for his sake.”
”Aha,” Hongbin mumbles. He feels his face heat up as he asks: ”So are you two... you know?”
”Are we what?”
”You know,” Hongbin says, straightening his back and removing his head from Jaehwan's shoulder. ”Dating, or whatever.”
Jaehwan looks appalled. ”Oh, God, no,” he says, giving a strained laugh. ”It's nothing like that. I'm pretty sure hyung is straight, and we're just friends.”
”Okay,” Hongbin says, holding up his hands a little to calm the other's outburst. His mind reels at how Jaehwan said Taekwoon's straight, nothing about his own orientation, and Hongbin thinks he has enough proof by now that there's a chance, however small it may be, that his feelings wouldn't be completely unrequited. He holds his breath, unsure of what else to say, and is saved by the game finally jumping to a start. ”Maybe I could join you guys sometime,” he says and tries to sound casual. ”If you don't mind, of course. It'd be interesting to see what Taekwoon hyung is like nowadays.” He shrugs.
Jaehwan's arm glides over the backrest, and if he just lowered it a little bit it would encircle Hongbin's shoulders. He wishes his upper body was taller. ”I was going to ask you about that, actually,” Jaehwan replies. ”He's coming over on Sunday. You could come, too.”
Jaehwan sounds just as casual as Hongbin doesn't feel. ”Okay, cool. I will.”
It doesn't take long until Jaehwan starts giving him pointers on how to best play the game. Hongbin does well on his own, but Jaehwan still covers his hands on the controller with his, showing him which buttons to press and when to do it, and Hongbin listens attentively, asks questions that he already knows the answers to, and he pretends silently to himself that they are a couple, that Jaehwan is his boyfriend, and his whole body feels lighter from happiness. Eventually Jaehwan decides he's taught him enough, but though he laughs when Hongbin makes mistakes, he cheers for him, too. And that's really all he needs.
”Has your dad started getting on your back about college yet, by the way?” he asks a few minutes later, and Jaehwan sprawls his upper body all over Hongbin's lap with a drawn-out groan.
”All the fucking time,” he whines, staring up at Hongbin through pained eyes. ”I swear, I've heard the word 'college' so many times over the past month that it's starting to lose its meaning to me. What is college? What is education? Who am I?”
Hogbin moves the controller out of the way to glance down at his friend. ”You're Lee Jaehwan, video game geek and the biggest drama queen the town has ever seen,” he grins, and laughs a little when the older shows him a face that is extremely unamused. ”Promise me that you'll take drama, hyung. It'd be such a waste if you didn't.”
”Ugh, I don't know,” Jaehwan responds, turning his head to watch Hongbin's progress. ”At this point, all I really care about is that it doesn't take me too far away from you... and everyone.” He scratches at his head. ”I like it too much here. That's all I really care about now.”
Hongbin smiles and uses the game as an excuse to not reply. It's a good thing, because nothing he wants to say is very appropriate, anyway.
”Do you want some chips?” Jaehwan asks after a few moments of silence. ”I bought the chili kind, since you like them so much.”
Hongbin nods. ”Sure.”
And Jaehwan gets up from his lap and leaves the room, leaves Hongbin to sigh contentedly to himself, because this is them. This is how they work. They toe the lines of friendship even though neither of them is sure where those lines are drawn, and when they get too close, Jaehwan is always the one to change the subject, to break away, and Hongbin knows that he's scared. That's okay. He can't do anything about that, and if Jaehwan ever comes around and gets over whatever it is that is holding him back, Hongbin will be there for him immediately. He's been ready for a long time, long enough that Jaehwan knows about his feelings for him, despite how hard Hongbin used to try to keep them to himself. They're too close to hide this kind of thing from one another. | fd505a059bb940eb94da36b1cec1ac1f | ['e912dfb9edff4b858e32000fa6493008'] | Wonshik clenches his jaw. His father knows all too well that he doesn't, because he never goes out. A side effect of being homeschooled all his life – at least that's what Wonshik likes to believe. ”Can I at least have some money so I can go to the internet café?”
His father watches him as he considers it. Behind him, the apple of his eye, the gun he got himself for _self defence_ glares at Wonshik through the cabinet. The sight of it made Wonshik tremble with worry as a child, but nowadays it gives him a strange sense of security. Perhaps, if his father had enough of his so called antics one day and decided to put a bullet in his head, it wouldn't be the worst thing. Or if Wonshik himself was ever pushed off the edge far enough to kill his own father. Or himself. Either way, it would be a way out of a stagnant life that has remained the same fog of hopelessness for as long as Wonshik can remember.
”Alright,” his father decides. ”I'll give it to you on the day.” So that Wonshik, ever the delinquent, doesn't accidentally spend them and end up happy for a single moment. Naturally.
”Okay. Thank you.”
His father nods, an indication that it's okay for him to leave. Wonshik throws a last glance at the gun, unmoving and surely dusty, before he walks out of the room. He doesn't know how he will keep himself busy for seven hours out of his home, but the thankfulness over getting out of seeing his father with his colleagues makes up for it.
And, as in every other situation in his life, his thoughts go to Jaehwan, who can't do a single thing to help him.
It's late on Saturday evening when Jaehwan manages to get out of bed. All day he has been repeating Wonshik's advice back and forth in his mind, thought about Kyungri and the way she makes him feel like all hope for a normal life is not lost, and tried to make up his mind. He hasn't forgotten what Wonshik said, but somehow his conviction that this is wrong for Jaehwan only strengthens his belief that it's right. Because, as much as it kills Jaehwan to admit it, Wonshik represents everything he isn't supposed to want in life.
Therefore, when he finally drags himself out of bed, it is to find Kyungri and talk to her.
He does, on a primary school yard. It turns out a few of the people he partied with last night are at it again, already. Including Kyungri, Kyungsoo, Hani – and Sandeul.
”You guys, this is bordering on alcoholism,” he says as he walks up to them. They're playing a game of what seems to be truth or dare in the sand, but most of them seem too exhausted to even sit up.
Sandeul's expression brightens as he spots him. ”You should join us,” he calls, and Kyungri, who sits beside him, turns to see what he's looking at. When she faces Jaehwan, the smile that's already on her face changes from politeness to warmth. Jaehwan thinks they already have much more in common than either of them are aware of.
”Nah,” Jaehwan declines. ”After last night, I'm in the kind of 'I will never drink again' phase that will last me at least a couple of days.”
Several of the others laugh, while Sandeul mumbles something that sounds like ”When has that ever stopped you before?” Jaehwan ignores it.
Instead, Kyungri speaks up. ”So if you're not here to have fun, what brings you to our neck of the woods?”
Jaehwan smiles at her. ”Actually, I'm here to talk to you.”
Kyungri stares up at him through wide eyes. ”Me?”
”Yes.” He ignores the feeling of Sandeul's heavy eyes in his side. ”Do you have a minute?”
”Of course,” Kyungri replies, immediately getting up and brushing the sand off her legs. Jaehwan puts a hand on her back, leading her away from the group, which has fallen suspiciously quiet at their departure. He supposes nothing is a secret in a group that spends as much time together as they do – unless, of course, you're Jaehwan.
She stumbles a little as they walk. Seeing it as time is nearing 11pm, he supposes he can't blame her for being so drunk; he'd probably be three times as smashed himself by now. Even so, this is not the kind of thing he wants to talk about when the person in question is drunk. Then again, maybe it'll make things easier. ”You alright there?” he asks, hand pressing harder into her back to help steady her.
”Yeah. I'm fine. Just a lot of blood in my beer system.”
Jaehwan laughs and leads her over to a swing set, supporting her to gently sit down on a swing. ”You're being careful, right?” he asks. ”I mean, I don't know all the guys here well enough to know that they're all good people.”
”Yeah, it's okay,” she says, gripping at the chains on either side of her. ”I mean, when I realized you weren't coming, I thought I shouldn't drink so much, but then I thought... Kyungsoo is here. I trust that he wouldn't let anything happen to me.” She shakes her head. ”Brother's duty, and all.”
Jaehwan nods, throwing a glance towards the group. Kyungsoo isn't exactly the biggest, buffest of all the guys he's met, but he can't deny he would _not_ want to make him angry. He turns back to Kyungri, who is watching him curiously. ”So, if I had been here, you would have looked to me to protect you?”
Her eyes widen for a moment, and she looks away. ”Oh, no, I mean...” she mumbles, some color rising on her cheeks. Jaehwan grins, but then she seems to find herself and looks back into his eyes. ”Wouldn't you?” |
6f411147cdd048a98a9b042af52d970a | ['e922370fdad64f658d3ed01d65ec9719'] | She heard Mahanon give a huff of long-suffering irritation from behind her before she could respond to her friend. “I have known you since you were an inattentive pupil in short pants, Gulliver Alerion; you will have better luck haranguing my cousin into dancing.” Ellana did not laugh at her cousin’s obvious manipulation of the situation, for he had made it impossible for Mr Alerion to demur without seeming rude, but it was a near thing. Mr Alerion did not appear to mind in the least, and his pursuit of her relative must not have been a serious one, because he turned his bright smile in her direction.
“Come then, Miss Lavellan--will you grant me the next set?” She promised that she would do so, and Assanera proclaimed her delight in the situation, for she had promised it to Ghilani, and she should like nothing better than for all of them to all be friends, as four was a better number than three.
“I do not see your younger sister,” remarked Mahanon to the two Alerions, “is she dancing? She must be out of the schoolroom by now.” “Myfanwy has gone to stay with our relations in the Free United Dales, and Mamae will tell you, it was the very devil arranging her pass-port…”
Ellana regarded the assembly, feeling a sort of fog roll over her mind. The music faded, and she had the queerest sensation that she was somewhere else altogether, her vision blurring as the floral wall-paper began to resemble true plants, roots covering her feet--
“And you, Miss Ellana?” She snapped back to reality at once. “Do you think Orlais will allow the Dales their peace this time?”
“Oh, it is surely all bluster and pride, as it usually is with Orlais. I do not think they will dare invade again, not with the Alliance, and not after Halamshiral. ” “There had been unrest for years; I suppose it was simply the last straw.” Mahanon took his leave, and the topic of the recent threats of violence on the Dalish borders carried them until the band took up their instruments for the Highever Reel, and she and Mr Alerion took their places in the line.
“Have you ever danced the reel with someone from Highever, Mr Alerion?”
“I have not--though the song says you will ‘send me reeling,’ which I always thought a very twee sort of reference.”
“I do not think the person who wrote the song could have been from Highever, but the sentiment is true enough. Do try not to be left behind,” she said as the music began, and they shared a grin. As it transpired, he managed admirably, and they even garnered some applause when it was their turn to go down the line. Ellana loved dancing, as she loved any cheerful diversion, and Mr Alerion seemed to share her sentiment. Both were out of breath by the time their feet finally stilled, laughing gaily despite it. They went arm-in-arm to retrieve their drinks, only to find Mahanon awaiting Ellana with a good-looking Elven woman of approximately his age and a tall, blonde human man of Ellana’s own.
“Ah, Cousin--may I present to you Mrs Fiona Duncan and her son, Alistair Fitzroy? Fiona, Alistair, this is my cousin, Ellana Lavellan, and another former pupil of mine, Gulliver Alerion.”
So it was true--King Maric had fathered a side-slip with an Elf. Well, all the better, for now she could be reasonably sure he would not be impolite on that account. Ellana sank a curtsey, unsure exactly how low it should be given his status, which was rather complex, and as she had never been introduced to a human of his standing; he, however, did not seem to stand on ceremony at all, and shook her hand with a smile once she rose. “A pleasure--”
“And it is returned, I assure, you, but I believe my sister is either suffering an apoplexy or trying to get my attention: you will excuse me.” Mr Alerion exited graciously, and Ellana would later swear she saw Assanera hit him with her fan for passing up the opportunity to bring her into the conversation.
Cousin Mahanon looked very pleased with himself for arranging this introduction. “I was Mr Fitzroy’s tutor before I was young Master Connor’s,” he explained, which Ellana supposed made sense. She had heard her cousin called Hahren Lavellan and Master Lavellan by most of the people they met in Redcliffe; he was clearly a respected figure. As the King’s son, Mr Fitzroy would have been afforded lessons with a private tutor, instead of attending a village school, for propriety’s sake if nothing else.
“And I was a shockingly indifferent student,” the man in question responded, cheerfully nodding at his former teacher, “though I have it on good authority that my cousin Connor is a much quicker study.” His manner was all that was amiable, his posture not quite easy, his sideways smile quite charming. Ellana liked him immensely.
“You will hear no judgment on that account from me, Mr Fitzroy--I think my cousin yet despairs of my learning anything of use from him,” she responded, and the laugh it procured from him was as gratifying as it was unexpectedly loud.
“Connor Guerrin is a better student than either of you, it’s true, though he’s of an age to weasel out of lessons and listen at his father’s study door, much as you did, Alistair,” Mahanon said.
“I suppose Arl Eamon must be meeting with plenty of messengers lately,” Mrs Duncan responded, her voice low and soothing, with a hint of an Orlesian accent. “With the Dalish border disputes and all the unpleasantness in Tevinter.”
“Is there unpleasantness in Tevinter?” Ellana asked, adding that she had not seen anything about it in the news-papers, and Cousin Mahanon had the Denerim editions posted down to them weekly. | b701d11c8b39481b8928478f6b414afc | ['e922370fdad64f658d3ed01d65ec9719'] | This only makes him hang his head and grit his teeth as tears continue to fall. “I’m a fucking mess, okay, there’s no reason anyone should worry about me—”
“It’s not a matter of should. You’re our friend. We were worried. We’re—I’m still worried, Grantaire.”
You sit there until he’s not crying so hard, hand just barely touching his and shoulders pressed together. You’ve always found it easier to communicate through touch—you can give a good speech, but when it comes to friends, words aren’t always enough. Words are for everyone. Nudges and gestures and touches, those are for the ones you care about. And against all better judgment, you do care about him.
“Someone will come get your car,” you say gently. “You’ll spend the night at Courfeyrac’s—we can talk about it in the morning.”
He looks at you with his eyes red and puffy and disbelieving, and suddenly you’ve got his arms wrapped around your neck. Tentatively you hug him back. You’re certain this is the first time you’ve ever hugged him. “You’ll be fine,” you reassure him, trying to be as soothing as possible. You hope you’re not lying, and you intend to do as much as you can to make sure he will be fine.
You turn on an indifferent radio station for the ride home and bring him into Courfeyrac’s house through the back door. You have to support him as you bring him up to the guest room, his legs unsteady from alcohol and emotional exhaustion. You find him sweatpants in Coufeyrac’s dresser and he keeps blinking blearily at you, as if unsure you’re really there.
You turn down the covers and he crawls in without protest. “Courfeyrac will bring your car back,” you say gently, sitting on the bed. You made sure to grab Courfeyrac’s attention when Grantaire was changing. “I don’t think—I don’t think any of us understood, until now.”
He looks pained and hurt and you wish very much there was nothing making him feel that way. He’s lazy, he doesn’t believe in anything, but nobody deserves to hurt that much, and you know he’s the sort of person who has a tendency to hurt himself. There’s so much more to him, and you’re starting to think his cynicism is less of a choice than a defense mechanism.
“I’m—Enjolras.” He looks you in the eye as evenly as he can. “Thanks.”
You put a hand on his shoulder by way of answer. “Just go to sleep.”
He closes his eyes and you wonder at the gesture of trust in someone who’s clearly been burned. You keep rubbing his shoulder until his breathing evens and your heart feels a little lighter. He’ll be alright. Even if he returns to the Grantaire of freshman year, awful and irreverent, it’ll be an improvement. Between you and the rest of your friends, you’ll make sure he’s alright.
**Author's Note:**
> Huge thanks to Stuart who spurred me on and chose the title, and a GIANT thanks to Winter who originally came up with the Grantaire-going-missing concept. Originally posted on Tumblr at http://lesgles.tumblr.com/post/40069725689/say-something-stupid-about-girls-and-drinks-an |
72019ba2bae245749a16004ee20b60af | ['e93fe5ad8f3944d68175083fae91a1a1'] | "Tiny, dude, it's all good," I reached to help, but was too late. His pants dropped to the floor with the thud of pockets filled with loose change and keys.
He finally spoke. "Man, please."
"Dude, I'll do whatever you want. You just gotta tell me. I'm not a mind reader." My hand slipped to my semi-hard cock. I stroked myself absently, completely aware that Tiny's eyes were glued to my fingers.
He squeaked, when I stroked myself root to tip and back again.
"Fuck me. Dammit, I want you to fuck me so hard," he nearly groaned. "Damn, I watched you all night and your tight little ass... I gotta to feel you inside me."
He bent over on the bed, still clothed, but bare-assed. Tiny turned to look at me, red-face but still watching me. "Just plow me."
I sucked in air between my teeth. "That was not what I was expecting, but hell yes."
Now was my turn to fumble--for a condom and lube. His eyes never left me as I rolled the rubber on and pumped a glob of liquid into my hand. I stroked again, top to bottom, and stepped up behind him. The big boys don't want me to fuck them usually. Most of the time they want me to yelp and cry their names, or tell them how big they are or how much it hurts.
"Hard and fast?" I drawled, pushing my cock between his butt cheeks, teasing.
Tiny grunted, pushing back and engulfing me. My groans joined his as he slid all the way down in one fluid stroke. "Holy fuck," I gasped.
"Now, please," he begged for a second time. "Fuck me like the bitch I am."
My hands gripped his hips tight, and the feeling of him surrounding me made me roll my eyes closed. A few softer strokes to get the angle right, then harder and deeper thrusts, and he groaned low in his chest.
"Oh yeah, just like that--" He panted as our bodies slapped against each other, thrusting back on me, fully fucking me just as hard as I took him.
Tiny's voice cracked as he came, bucking against me. This was hotter than I expected it to be and I lost it when he told me how my dick stretched his hole.
"Oh fuck!" I pounded fast, exploding deep in him, just like he was asking for.
I leaned on Tiny, breathing hard against his back, him breathing hard beneath me. I felt myself slip out and opened my eyes just in time to see Sam's face in the crack of the door between our rooms. His eyes were wide, but he shut the door quietly.
_Ah shit. Now he's going to want to talk about feelings._
We stood up, Tiny and me, composing ourselves. I cleaned up, and bumped my shoulder against his. "Hey, thanks man. That made my night."
When I grinned, he smiled back, doing up his pants.
Tiny handed me the cash and squeezed my hand. "Come see me when you're in town again. You drink free in my bar."
He made his way down the well-worn track to the bar and shut the door behind him. Sam and his feelings could wait until the morning.
* * *
1\. [The hanky code is a code used by some to indicate certain sexual needs. Here, Dean's hanky means he's for rent. For more information visit: <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Handkerchief_code>] | 1969d9ed6e444001968f828e9d7867d0 | ['e93fe5ad8f3944d68175083fae91a1a1'] |
Corner Pocket
**Author's Note:**
> Many thanks to my betas for their hard work. You can visit their tumblrs at: http://littlenerdyguywithwings.tumblr.com/ [writing/edits] & http://anime-heart.tumblr.com/ [code monkey].
"Sammy!" I shouted through the door into my brother's adjoining hotel room. "I'm going out."
It's rare that we get separate rooms. Usually means I get lucky. Right now, though--it's time for a hustle. I've got to pay for dinner somehow.
I closed the door, grabbed the faded green hankie[1] from my duffle bag, and stuffed it into my left back pocket. My keys went in the other. I checked myself out in the hazy mirror before I left, adjusting my leather coat and collar. Needed to get the look right for this bar.
I parked the Impala just down the block.
Man, I love the rumble of Baby's engine, and I knew from the amount of motorcycles lined in the front told me that most of the people there would too. I also knew they'd be twice my size. That didn't faze me, though. I got it all under control. I always do.
Bells jingled, and twenty pairs of eyes turned my way. Most wore long beards, kempt and unkempt, but everyone was in leather. Not a woman in the joint.
_Ah, I see._
I pushed between two leather-clad giants and ordered a beer. I looked up and up at the bartender.
I smirked. "You must be Tiny."
He plunked the pint down in front of me, foam spilling over the mouth of the bottle. I took several long swallows of the cold brew, letting the head slip down my throat. It'd been a long day and a long drive and nothing went down better than an ice cold beer.
"Thanks man." I slid a fifty across the scarred counter. "My tab." I smiled and drank again.
"Don't mention it," he grumbled, going back to drying bar glasses.
By now everyone had turned back to their drinks and where oblivious of my presence. _This is good,_ I thought.
"Even better," I mumbled, noticing the well worn pool table was empty. It stood in a quiet corner, sort of off by itself, with a dart board that was just as worn, and a couple of really old pin ball machines. _Hey, at least I didn't have to pay to play,_ I thought as I racked the balls and chose a cue.
Some dude plunked quarters into the jukebox, and AC/DC rang out loud and clear.
_She was a fast machine she kept her motor clean,
She was the best damn woman that I ever seen..._
I shucked my jacket, chalked the tip of the stick, and walked slowly around the table. I lined up the cue ball, took careful aim, and launched. Balls flew everywhere, cracking off each other and the bumpers. I sunk three right away, and bit my lip. I hadn't meant to do that many. Truthfully, sometimes it's hard to suck at a game that you love.
I leaned carefully over the table and took the next shot. I scratched soundly, and cursed just loud enough for somebody walking by to hear. _I've got to make this look good if I'm gonna make any money tonight,_ I thought, as I bent over to line up the next shot.
Out of habit, I adjusted the money-colored hankie stuffed in my back pocket, but I didn't think anything would come of it. Hardly ever did. I played--four more games, four long crappy games that no one joined me for. I sighed, and tossed the crappy pool cue on the table.
_Well, there goes tomorrow's dinner._
I bent to grab my jacket and felt something slipping out of my back pocket.
_Crap! Now some bitch is taking my wallet._
I whirled around, ready to do battle with whatever fuck-face had attempted to take it. I looked up and up. It was Tiny. He gripped my hankie in his huge fist, one eyebrow cocked.
"You... free?" he asked, voice low and private. His shadowed eyes looked straight at me, never missing a beat.
I looked him all the way up and down, real slow. "For you big guy, I could be free all night." I left the offer out there, hanging.
His voice turned to silk. "I got a half hour." He handed back the fifty I gave him earlier, plus a second.
"It's all good," I grinned at him as he led me out the back door. The motel was kitty-corner to the bar, and along a well worn path. I snorted back a laugh and lead him to my door.
"Here we are. It's not the penthouse suite, but it'll do." I opened the door and he stepped in. I knew he'd been here before, there was no doubt about it, but he stood staring like the balding carpet and 70's bedspread was all new.
I smiled, seeing how red his cheeks where. "Nervous? Tiny, you have to be the tallest dude I have ever seen."
I slipped out of my jacket, and began taking off my shirts, pulling them over my head. Sometimes these guys need a little bit of tender lovin'. Tiny still had my hankie, so I gently I touched his hand and took hold of it. Slowly and just as softly I began to undo his leather vest.
"No," he grabbed my wrist. "That's not... I mean I..." He stammered, letting go of me, blushing even harder. He large hand wandered down my bare chest to my belt. He unbuttoned my fly swiftly and dropped my pants to the floor. I hadn't bothered with tighty-whities, so I stood there naked, except for my boots.
Tiny licked his lips appreciatively, his hand giving my cock a squeeze with several quick strokes. I grunted, his touch rough and needy.
He let go, watching me as I licked my lips. Hurriedly, fumbled with his belt, fingers all tangled up in the leather. |
0d9f7120f4394d6c99cf2b91a3db8a79 | ['e9487c3ef0ad4a38894c0f94c08b1276'] |
Captain Peter Pan
&&&&&
Anne would not say it out loud but she loved the view from her office. While she still had to share it with Sheppard, he was rarely in the office, and he had the wisdom to leave it up to her to pick the Perfect View when more buildings were opened for use and offices were reassigned. She never questioned how Sheppard and Woolsey managed to regain control of the ship…base…aw, CITY…and bring her back to the Pegasus Galaxy, and Anne really did not care about the never-ending posturing between the SGC and the IOA. She still loved this view. Still located in the Central Tower, it had a wall of windows that could give you vertigo if you stood too close to the glass. Being SiC had its perks even after all these years.
Sheppard had tracked her down a few months after they had returned to Earth and everyone had been dispersed to all corners of the world. He waited for her at the finish line of the Heartbreak Ridge Half Marathon at her old stomping grounds in Camp Pendleton and with his typical lack of preamble, offered her the SiC spot since he was more than sure that 'they' were not only going to get Atlantis repaired and able to fly, but that he and Woolsey would take Atlantis back to the Pegasus Galaxy. Sheppard also made an almost casual remark that Evan Lorne was not on board to head back to Atlantis after Beckett belly-flopped her within view of the Golden Gate Bridge. Not that she had been surprised. Several squadrons of literally mashed-together teams of pilots and ships had been able to track down Wraith Darts as they whizzed into Earth's airspace and there were some losses, but none as complete as Evan's. He even took the three members of Anne's team who were qualified pilots with him when they reached Earth to track after any errant Wraith, only to leave all three of them – plus every other aircraft under his command – in pieces around Area 51.
She knew it broke him. She had watched him through the years as they served together in the SGC, then in Atlantis as he lost and replaced team after team. Having his morbid record continued in the skies over the American West was the literal final straw, and she heard of the rumors that he was ready to leave the military when those who had rows of stars on their shoulders thought that Evan’s talents were better suited as an aide to General O’Neill. While the General careened happily around the Pentagon for over five years creating all kinds of grief for the IOA and those within the SGC that tried to rein him in, Evan had quietly waited for a chance to get back to Atlantis.
While she had received a promotion, Evan had not and while she could tell that it bothered him he never pushed the issue. Despite Sheppard's almost admirable sense of optimism, it took several years for Atlantis to be repaired and updated enough for a basic trip around the Moon, let alone another galaxy. But Sheppard kept his offer open, and while Anne did not hesitate to hold him to his promise, she was not the only one who returned. McKay raced back from whatever think tank he founded then easily dumped, Becket from Area 53, Keller even showed up from the research laboratory that headhunted her before Atlantis' damaged stardrive had cooled in the waters of the Pacific. Teyla and Ronon had never left Sheppard's side. Even Woolsey was waiting to get back to Atlantis, an almost eager look on his face, along with almost everyone who had survived when Atlantis returned to save Earth. All except for Evan. He was still in the Pentagon, and though they had maintained contact with each other, he never gave Anne any indication he planned to return.
The first few months after Atlantis had returned to the Pegasus Galaxy had gone by in a blur. She had no idea how Evan had succeeded as SiC. Between juggling paperwork, preparing rosters, sitting in on any one of Woolsey’s never-ending meetings, or sitting in on meetings with just her and Woolsey since Sheppard was an expert at not attending them, she would be exhausted by the end of a quiet shift. It was still better than cutting a shift short to gear up to race out of the Gate and save Sheppard’s butt now that Atlantis was back to full-time duty trying not to piss off the rest of the Pegasus Galaxy.
“Thanks for helping me with the roster for this month, Evan.”
“And last months…and next month’s…” Evan quipped, “Tell me again how you manage to foist off the work rosters on me again?”
“I didn’t foist anything on you. Besides, you are so much better at it than I am. You pay attention to the teams; Cadman and I have an ongoing bet that you memorize all the jackets as they come in, and therefore know who will play nice in the teams.”
Evan flicked off the computer monitor before he nodded to the pile of files that he now dramatically pushed to the center of Anne’s desk. He winked, and added a wicked smile on his face as he tapped the top file, “Guess that means that now you have free time to deal with these…” he cackled, and then lifted the top file, “And you can save even more time by just taking this one.”
Anne shook her head as she grinned at him across the desk, “You just want me to take him because he’s a zoomie.”
“Aw, c’mon, Anne, it’s not my fault that the latest batch from the SGC are all men,” Evan had murmured, “You asked me for my advice…” | 9b21263d88434bd9b0f790700107c1cd | ['e9487c3ef0ad4a38894c0f94c08b1276'] | They never got easy. The last time he had been to a funeral was right after he graduated from the Academy, the single silver bar of his brand new rank on the Officer Dress Blues shiny and new. He had stood behind his mother and sister, as Gilly in his Marine uniform stood to one side, and Biff, recently promoted to Captain and also in Officer Dress Blues, to the other. Aunt Wendy had been seated next to his mother, Uncle Frank trying not to lean on his canes as he stood behind his wife.
Evan was back here again, just a few yards from where his father was buried. He stood quietly, somber in his Officer Dress Blues, this time the shiny silver oaks that had last graced Biff’s shoulders heavy on his own.
Just like the last time, he made sure his mom and sister had settled into their seats as Gilly’s two favorite foster mothers sat to Deidre’s other side. Just like last time, Aunt Wendy sat with her hand clenched tightly in his mother’s hand. Uncle Frank now accepted that it was easier to sit and sat alongside his wife, her hand in his. Evan stood alone behind the women. He wished Biff was here. It had taken Biff close to a year to barely recover from serious injuries from a mission he couldn’t talk about, and was now a world away on another mission that he wasn’t allowed to talk about. And Gilly…Gilly wasn’t standing next to him, but he was still here.
His father’s funeral had been filled with his merchant marine colleagues and workers from the ports who took precious hours off from work to pay their respects, most of them in ill-fitted jackets over boiler suits. In contrast, Gilly’s funeral was filled with uniforms, the relative youth of their wearers’ testament to the present, active group of military. Evan felt surrounded by a sea of Marines resplendent in what his once childhood’s hero-worshipping eyes had seen as beautiful, magnificent uniforms compared to his rather simple Air Force blues. The flag-draped coffin was speckled by the shadows from the tree branches above it, the blaze of colors from the unnaturally warm fall weather brilliant.
With another sigh, he looked down to Deidre, could see the still-stunned look on his twin’s face, one of her hands grasping their mother’s, the other one almost digging into his on her shoulder, the top of her round belly wet with silent tears. His nephew was with a trusted sitter; she did not want to bring him here. The priest droned on, the military contingent stock-still in the stifling heat while the civilians murmured.
As the simple service continued, Evan felt a twinge, of something, someone watching. Not malevolent, not curious, but…sad. He tried to look around without being obvious, but was barely able to see a slight movement in a small copse of trees to the side of the group. His sister held in a sob as the 9-gun salute broke the morning quiet, and he brought his focus back to her.
John waited by the trees as he watched the small crowd located down the hill. He was not surprised that Gilly’s wife would chose this place, far away from the beautiful but almost cold white marble markers of a military cemetery that would one day be his own last resting place as long as he managed not to be kicked out.
_Widow_ , John corrected himself. Gilly now had a widow. With a toddler and one almost ready to show up.
It was fitting that Gilly would get his military funeral even in a civilian cemetery. He was through and through a man of the military; he had been the mechanic, the fixer, the medic with an overloaded pack filled with bandages that had cartoon characters nestled next to a box always filled with spare ammo. Gilly was unique, always with a smile on his face, his long legs and arms always in motion, his dog tags flying all around him, tangling with the accompanying gold chain holding pictures of his wife and son, crowing with joy when he found out he was to be the dad to two boys.
A slight smile crossed John’s face. While not Air Force, or even an officer, Gilly had blissfully ignored both rank and the invisible division of branches to take him into his rather large circle of friends in the large tent city outside Kandahar. The impromptu and now legendary Hurray It’s Monday and We’re Not Dead parties were epic; Gilly had even convinced the company commanders to show up.
_‘Everyone’s welcome in Gillyland, Flash.’_
John frowned behind the aviators as the group settled in. The small tent that blocked the hot sun was filled with an almost motley collection of mourners. Young couples stood next to 50-somethings who stood around a small group of Gilly’s foster mothers; even a group of what John gathered were older Boy Scouts were present. Even through the maze of foster homes, Gilly had managed to become an Eagle Scout and was a lovable dork about it. |
78b712b7ab024c40bff3c914c403e5bd | ['e95d73ac2d474f7992cce51419ea4c4c'] | Whatever he mumbled was lost on her but she shifted closer, leaning into his embrace as she stretched out her legs. Evelyn opened her eyes just enough to take a glance at him over her shoulder before slowly rolling over to face him. Alistair’s eyes were still closed but his expression was calm and for that Evelyn was glad. She couldn’t help but think of the last time they were in this situation—it hadn’t ended well and…
Evelyn shook her head—that was the past and right now she felt wonderful. She didn’t want to dwell on her mistakes when the future seemed so bright. Alistair’s eyes peeked open a little and he smiled at her.
“Good morning.” Evelyn felt her body warm as Alistair’s gaze flicked down to steal a glance of her naked body beneath the sheets. She breathed out a laugh at the way he nodded.
“Yes.” He sighed. “A good morning.” Alistair shifted his arms around her again and twined his legs with hers. “A _great_ morning.”
A comfortable silence fell between them but Evelyn didn’t mind. She could feel herself falling back asleep with the way his hands gently ran up and down her back but fought the feeling if only to stay with him in that moment. Alistair’s eyes were still heavy with sleep as he blinked, a lazy sideways grin on his lips. He placed a slow kiss to her mouth and kept his lips there as he spoke. “The way you make me feel…”
Evelyn smiled, peeking open her eyes to stare into his. “I love you, you know that, right?”
“I know.” Alistair responded, his arms tightening around her waist to bring her closer to his body. He kissed her again before moving his lips to pepper kisses along her face—nose, jaw and eyes. “I love you too.”
They continued to kiss, their movements unrushed. Evelyn couldn’t stop smiling…did this morning ever have to end? “What time is checkout?”
“Hmm?” Alistair shrugged before rolling his body over hers. “Eleven?”
Evelyn felt a moan get caught in her throat as he rolled his hips against hers in one languid motion. Alistair seemed willing and ready to continue and Evelyn was just as eager. “What—what time is it now?”
Alistair paused and lifted his head up to glance at the clock on the nightstand. He chuckled and Evelyn craned her neck to take a look for herself. “Two.”
She joined him in laughter and very quickly their passion melted into humor as Alistair fell onto his side next to her again. Their laughter was infectious—when one of them would calm the other would start up again and for a long while they stayed like that just lost in their own little blissful world. Evelyn kept herself tucked close to him, unwilling to think that they would have to eventually leave the comfort of each other’s embrace. Neither of them seemed willing to move, however.
“We’re hopeless.” Evelyn sighed as she rested her head against his chest. The steadiness of his heartbeat was calming and she hoped every morning from then on would be like this one.
Alistair shifted them so they were leaning against the pillows and headboard, pulling the comforter up to keep the cocoon of warmth around them. “We’re _happy._ ”
Evelyn couldn’t argue.
Eventually— _reluctantly_ —the two pulled themselves out of bed and shared in the amusement of their shattered clothes as they retrieved them from the floor. Evelyn knew Alistair was watching her as she dressed and admittedly she felt rather silly putting her bridesmaid dress back on. She turned away from him but Alistair was quick to step close, his hands on her back and fingers pulling the zipper back into place.
“As much as I don’t want to leave…” Alistair wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. “I can’t _wait_ to go home.”
Evelyn turned to face him and smiled as she buttoned up his shirt but stopped short at the sudden serious expression that Alistair held. “What is it?”
“I—I wanted to…” Alistair seemed uncertain at first before continuing. “I wanted to ask you something.”
Evelyn was a little hesitant at first and wondered if Alistair was about to drop to his knees. “You aren’t…asking me to marry you are you?”
“What?” Alistair yelped, his eyebrows arching in surprise. “ _No_! Maker I’m not—” He stopped and gave her a questionable look. “Why would you think that?”
“You got all serious!” Evelyn struggled to hide her amusement. “What is it Alistair?”
“I just wanted to make sure that…” Alistair made a small gesture between the two of them. “This. _Us_.” The uncertainty in his eyes had Evelyn worried for a moment. “ _This_ is real. That we’re…together.”
Alistair gripped her hands tightly in his own. “I want to know that you are mine and I am yours…for as long as you’ll have me.”
“For as long as—” Evelyn shook her head at him and couldn’t hold back her smile. Why would he think otherwise? “ _Alistair_ , don’t you mean forever?”
The excitement in his expression had her heart racing. His grin was bright, eyes shining as they locked on hers. “Does that mean…?”
“You’re the one for me.” Evelyn was nodding as she kissed him, tears welling in her eyes and arms wrapping around him tightly. Alistair was quick to return her embrace and eagerly kissed her back, his chest swelling at her words. He understood her meaning loud and clear, grinning against her mouth even as she pulled away.
_“You’re the one for me.”_
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Here we are at the end of this amazing journey. This story has been a labor of love since I started it back in May and I’m a little heartbroken that it’s all over (or is it?). This is the first long-chapter fic I’ve finished in years so I am feeling quite accomplished but I didn’t do it alone.
>
> First I would like to thank my amazing beta and friend and cinnawife @anon-omis who would stay up late brainstorming with me over the tiniest of details and encouraged me on days where I struggled to get even a sentence written. The story wouldn’t exist without her. | 69cc7664330b4563a6ba7f90b3dc7550 | ['e95d73ac2d474f7992cce51419ea4c4c'] | Evelyn hated that Aurelie was right. Time was running out and no matter how afraid she was of facing her feelings head on, Evelyn would have to do so sooner than she realized.
* * *
Evelyn felt guilty that she didn’t get very much work done after her talk with Aurelie. Even after Aurelie left, Evelyn found herself trapped with even more thoughts and worries than she had before stuck between being afraid to go home and wanting nothing more than to see Alistair immediately. The reminder was in the forefront of her mind— _tomorrow_ they would talk and she would have her answers. Until then Evelyn would have to pretend that nothing was troubling her for the sake of her role in the wedding. Still, it didn’t prevent her from feeling nervous as she traveled back home that evening.
“Couscous, is that you?”
Evelyn smiled to herself at the sound of Alistair’s voice echoing from his room as she entered the apartment, balancing the roses in her arm as she closed the door behind her. She didn’t answer him right away, shrugging off her winter coat and heels before crossing over into the kitchen. She was busy dropping her belongings on the island when he poked his head around the doorway of his room, a bright grin on his face.
“You got the flowers!” He spoke excitedly. Evelyn felt her face heat up, her emotions already so quick to come to the surface—she was worse than a school age girl with a crush.
“Yes. They’re beautiful, Alistair.” She remarked as she situated them on the counter, turning away from him if only to hide her flustered state. “Thank you.”
“No, thank _you_.” Alistair’s approached and Evelyn forced herself to turn to face him. He was still half-dressed in his work uniform, but his button up had been pulled from the waistband of his slacks and hung open, exposing the tank top beneath. It wasn’t until she noticed his rolled up sleeves that she realized his cast was gone.
“How is your arm?” She tentatively asked. Alistair’s smile faltered a little as he wiggled his arm, flexing his fingers as if to show off the improvement.
“It’s a little sore and the mobility isn’t _completely_ there but…” Alistair laughed a little. “No cast for the wedding. That’s the important part.”
Evelyn watched him carefully as he rounded the kitchen counter, stepping closer to where she was. She held her breath for a moment, suspicious of his movements when he simply walked towards the sink to fill a cup with some water. She didn’t quite understand what he was doing until he moved closer to her and she had to resist the urge to back away as her nervousness returned. His hand was still a little shaky as he carefully filled the flower vase with water but he seemed pleased that he could perform the task without too much strain on his hand and arm.
“Just don’t overdo it.” Evelyn warned. Alistair playfully rolled his eyes as he placed the glass in the sink before turning back to face her. Evelyn felt her heart pounding in her chest at their close proximity and tried desperately to read any sense of the same anxiety in Alistair’s features. When she found nothing but a calm expression she had to wonder if he was better at hiding his emotions or if he simply didn’t feel the same way any longer and was just stringing her along in some form of payback.
“I won’t.” Alistair softly chuckled as he stretched the fingers of his left hand again. “Now if only I could use my hand for the _important_ things.” Alistair lamented with a teasing tone. Evelyn raised a curious eyebrow only to lightly smack Alistair in the chest as he made a lewd gesture with his hand. He laughed, growing louder as he undoubtedly noted the way Evelyn’s face had flushed with color. She felt relieved at the joke, it was distracting her from her troubled thoughts as the two shared in their laughter.
“You’re _right_ handed, Alistair.” She reminded him. Evelyn continued to smile even as she observed his expression carefully, looking for the warning signs. This entire conversation was just another instance of the two walking that fine line—unsure what was appropriate talk for friends and what crossed over into flirtation and Evelyn didn’t want them to break that rule _again_ , especially the night before the wedding.
“Have you _never_ heard of the stranger in the shower?” Alistair questioned in mock offense. Evelyn’s laugh turned into a nervous chuckle as she glanced away from him, ignoring the way her whole body warmed over as she couldn’t help but _think_ about what he was suggesting. When she finally lifted her gaze back to him, Alistair was sporting a blush of his own, radiating across his ears and down his neck. She was about to suggest that they continue getting ready so they could leave on time for the rehearsal dinner when Alistair’s expression turned slightly more serious.
“So…” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped and again Evelyn held her breath in anticipation. “ _Tomorrow_.”
Evelyn swallowed her own nerves, struggling to calm the erratic beating of her heart. “Y—yes.”
Alistair didn’t say anything else for a long moment, his eyes scanning over her face before pausing for a moment on her lips. Evelyn didn’t move away as he inched just a fraction closer, watching him as she tried to decipher his intense expression. Alistair’s brow furrowed in thought and his lips twitched into a small frown as he exhaled. Evelyn felt her concern heighten and then falter as his small smile from before returned, his honey eyes shining over as he lifted them to hers. |
14c6b8f5949e445c90552984bf37a495 | ['e9654b693ba34ffc83f14af6e696f5e2'] |
First Nightmare, First Kiss
**Author's Note:**
> I decided to post this here, as I have rediscovered, then completed, a sequel. Therefore, I chose to post this here first before posting the next one. :)
She tossed and turned in her sleep, the soft sheets of the bed tangling in her slumber.
_“You’re nothing but a pathetic little orphan!” her foster-father said. His blue eyes were cold and filled with hatred. Skye knew that as he raised his hand, this would be the last strike he made on her tonight. She’d pass out from the pain, but even as she was in her pain induced sleep, she’d be aching all over. This monster had hit her more times then she could count in the short three weeks that she had been in this festering hello-hole. His wife was wonderful, no questions asked, but how in the name of all that is good and pure did she marry a sick bastard like him?_
_Skye was only fourteen at the time of this foster home but, no matter the time put between her and this memory, the pain was still evident in her eyes and body. Skye may have carried herself with dignity, but that was merely the cover. The cover that protected the young orphan just wishing, hoping, for a real family to call her own._
_“You are a worthless piece of shit my wife found in an orphanage. You deserve to die!” He backhanded her cheek with everything he had mustered in the alcohol filled daze. The sound reverberated through her teeth and brain, the slap sounding louder than it should in her ears. Darkness filled her mind as she blanked out onto the stone cold floor below._
Screams filled the bunk as Skye awoke from the nightmare. Her heart pounded in her chest as she put her fingertips to the cheek that was hit all those years ago. Lights flickered outside the small room as the bus roared to life at the sound of the screams. Voices were groggy but alert as they tried to comprehend the sudden wake up call.
Agent Grant Ward was already awake when the screams came through the walls of his bunk. As he pushed himself up from the bed, placing his book down in the process, he prepared for the chitter-chatter of FitzSimmons and Skye as they thought. But when he arrived outside in the lounge of the bus, he noticed that Coulson and Skye were missing from the group.
“The scream was higher pitched than most, but it was also louder, Fitz. Thus meaning that the scream was female and close.” Simmons spoke. Even at two o’clock in the morning, her voice was the epitome of English articulation and manners.
Fitz voice was slurred and groggy as he responded to his female counterpart. “But, it also sounded hoarse. As though it wasn’t the first scream.” _It wasn’t,_ Grant thought. “Besides, who would try to wake us up at two o’clock in the morning? In the middle of an air field, at that.”
Coulson came through the hall from the bunks, his red pyjamas falling to the floor neatly. “You may all return to your bunks, everyone. It was just an accidental recording.” May and Ward knew he was lying, but also knew that the senior agent had reason for everything he did. “Not you, Ward.” As all the other agents returned to their bunks, Grant Ward sat carefully on the leather seat, waiting for the reason of their awakening to reveal herself.
He heard her before he saw her appear. Her long brown hair was in a sloppy pony-tail and her face was devoid of any makeup. Grant still thought she looked stunning – wait, what? Shaking his head slightly, he looked towards his timid rookie. Skye’s eyes were puffy and red, her small figure was shaking and it were as though she were having a flashback. He didn’t realise how correct he was. As she sat down, he walked towards Agent Coulson. “She was having a nightmare, Agent Ward.”
“I gathered as much, sir. What type of nightmare?” responded the Supervising Officer of the resident hacker.
Phil shook his head, “She wouldn’t tell me. It must have been pretty bad for her not to tell ‘A.C’. Maybe she won’t tell you, but at least try to calm her down. But not as her ‘Supervising Officer’, as her friend. Understood, _Grant_?” Ward almost flinched at the sound of his own name but knew, just as well as anyone, he needed to speak with Skye as somebody who had also dealt with his own childhood demons. He understood how she felt. Somewhat.
Grant Ward slowly returned to the lounge to see Skye pull her shaky legs to her chest and wrap her arms around her legs. He slowly moved to sit beside her, watching as tears pricked her brown eyes. “You okay?” he said, unaware of how to deal with this. She nodded wordlessly.
Silence encased the pair as they sat side by side on the leather seat. “Sorry for waking you up…” she said at last.
He looked to her softly, his eyes trying to say _I want to help you, but I can’t if you avoid the problem._ “It’s fine, Skye. Everybody gets nightmares. You seemed pretty shook up, want to talk about it? I have a shoulder for you too.” She made a small smile at the reference.
As Grant gently caressed her cheek as a subtle gesture, he saw the fear seep into her eyes. Her body closed up even more and she shut her eyes tightly to hide the tears that threatened to spill. He pulled his hand away quickly and pushed himself off the seat to stand right in front of the distraught hacker.
“What happened?” there was no room so softness now, he was pissed that somebody had made her cry like this, scream until she didn’t have a voice. | 37050328332b4bc0b1de86850fc456e0 | ['e9654b693ba34ffc83f14af6e696f5e2'] | Garrett's Welcome to HYDRA Speech
**Author's Note:**
> If requested, can make a legit scene from this. The bottom notes is the original script. Enjoy!
Hi there, soldier.
Nice to meet you.
As the smarter of you might have realised by now, we’re not SHIELD. This is Hydra and I am the commander here, Agent John Garrett.
You can call me Garrett or SO. We like to keep things relatively structured here; you fail to follow those rules, you die. Now, you’re all here until death, which I don’t need to tell you will be exactly as said. You work, and you die for Hydra. So you should all know each other pretty well by the end of your allegiance. Let’s split you into ranks.
_Keep that torture down!_
Okay, firstly, specialists, specialists over here please. Thanks.
Black Ops Specialists and Tech Ops Specialists over there. Under Cover Operatives, if you could join them, and surgeons. Surgeons you’re over there too.
Torture Methodists could you step forward? My god, there are a lot of you. I’ll split you into clinically insane and the rest. Nutters, could you go line up in front of the shock therapy bay in the corner.
Ops students? Are you here? If you could be so kind as to come down here with the Sci-Ops students. I’m sure you all have plenty to discuss.
Okay, SHIELD Agents? Are you here? If you could please crawl forward from whatever corner you were hidden. You must be feeling a right bunch of nitwits… Hail Hydra, suckers. Well, never-mind.
And finally, pure Hydra agents? Ah, yes, I’m afraid Whitehall was right. If you could please go to the interrogation bay down the corridor, that would be really fine, thank you.
Okay, right, are there any questions? Yes, no, I’m afraid we don’t have any mercy, Agent. If you knew your history, you would know that Hydra shows no mercy. So if you didn’t get any before you came you’re not going to live long. Then again, nobody really does.
Okay. It’s over to you… Bakshi! And I shall, uh, see you all out on the ground.
See ya.
**Author's Note:**
> Ah, hello!
> It's nice to see you all here.
> As the more perceptive of you probably realised by now, this is hell. And I am the Devil.
> Good Evening.
> But you can call me Toby if you like. We try to keep things informal here, as well as infernal. That's just a little joke of mine. I tell it every time. Now, you're all here for...Eternity! Ooh, which I hardly need tell you is a heck of a long time. So you'll all get to know each other pretty well by the end. But for now I'm going to have to split you all up into groups.
> Will you stop screaming?!
> Thank you. Now, Murderers, murderers over here, please. Thank you.
> Looters and Pillagers over here, please, and thieves if you could join them, and lawyers, you're in that lot too.
> Fornicators, if you could step forward? My god! There are a lot of you! Ah, I'll split you up into adulterers and the rest. Male adulterers, if you could just form a line in front of that small guillotine in the corner.
> Em...the French? Are you here? If you could just like to come down here with the Germans. I'm sure you'll have plenty to talk about.
> Okay, atheists? Atheists over here please! You must be feeling a right bunch of nitwits! Never-mind.
> And finally, Christians? Ah, yes, I'm sorry, I'm afraid the Jews were right. If you could come down here, that would be really fine, thank you.
> Okay, right, well are there any questions? Yes, no, I'm afraid we don't have any toilets. If you read your Bible you might have seen that it was damnation without relief. So if you didn't go before you came I'm afraid you won't be enjoying yourself very much, but then I believe that's the idea.
> Okay! Well, it's over to you...Adolf! And I'll, uh, catch you all later at the barbecue.
> Bye! |
ec377a5f67df4b6f80ae89fbb0a5aef4 | ['e97a0858a3924001b0fd244928f27687'] |
1. Darkness Visible
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> So I've had a complete writer's block for a couple years now. Being able to only write out a snippet of a scene at a time or a sentence that _sounds nice_ but actually has no value or is in anyway connected to a plot of any kind. I mean, I have ideas, it's just hard to put them to fruition. To be quite honest, I still have no idea of where this will go - I have 2 chapters written and a vague thought of how to proceed further but this might take me a while considering how down and uninspired I have been lately.
Having that in mind, fair warning: I CANNOT PROMISE A QUICK FINISH TO THIS OR REGULAR UPDATES.
>
> Other than that, I thought my babe Ragga deserved a little something for being able to put up with me this whole time. Consider this a super belated birthday present?
>
> Also, this is not beta'ed and tbh I didn't edit too much out of fear I would hate it and decide not to post it again. So... Welcome to this mess.
>
> Oh: Stiles is a bit older in this one.
Stiles was around five when he first discovered there was a whole other part of the world that not everyone was aware of.
He was listening to his mom sing along to one of those Christmas songs that were always on the radio before the holiday, her smile warming Stiles from the inside, her melodious voice making him forget all about his now bandaged knee from when the new kid pushed him in the playground. She looked so radiant — laughing and dancing around, all while making Stiles hot cocoa to soothe his aches — and Stiles wished he could make his mom happy like that all the time. And when he joined in, as a slightly familiar voice started singing “let it snow, let it snow, let it snow” he treasured the glint in her eye as it started snowing around them.
Right until he realised it was snowing _inside_ his house and one of the cold snowflakes fell on his nose, startling him enough to make him fall off the chair.
Mom told him then — about how everyone on her side of the family was born with a little something special, about how there are people around who can do more, _be_ more than what everyone considers normal. About how Stiles should be proud of who he is and never be ashamed.
From then on it was easy to call snowflakes to his fingertips, easy to make the top of the pond deep in the preserve freeze over so him and mom could go skating on it on special occasions, easy to make it look like winter when Beacon Hills hasn’t seen one in decades.
*******
As much as his parents talked to him about being careful and not letting other people know, it wasn’t exactly hard to keep others from noticing that the ice cubes in his drink took just a little longer to melt and the ice-cream he ate always looked as if it was just taken from the freezer. It wasn’t as if there were many people paying attention to Stiles. And even though he didn’t have many friends to share his secret with, Stiles took the warnings to heart. He knew the things people did to one another sometimes — has seen it in the movies that were on TV when he was supposed to be sleeping and his babysitter didn’t care enough about the nightmares he would be getting after finally being put to bed, seen it in the face of his father after a particularly hard day, heard it in the whispers grown-ups shared when something tragic happened. He was already pushed around by kids like Jackson and others like Lydia didn’t even deem him worthy of breathing the same air. Kids called him names already and he really didn’t need to add “freak who could do magic” to his name which would inevitably happen if word let out about his abilities -- and that would probably turn out to be the least of his worries.
So Stiles kept to himself. It wasn’t much of a hardship when he had his parents to keep him company, when the stories his mom told him about other beings were much more fascinating than what anyone his age could tell him. Bedtime stories about fairies, werewolves, nymphs and vampires among others that more often than not kept him awake rather than making him fall asleep, stories focussing on how to recognise them all, how to communicate with each and every one of them without insulting them and getting hurt, stories telling him about how _human_ they all were.
His mom taught him how to reach within himself and call and control his power, how to look at another and see who he really is; she taught him to see the best in people and not to judge them by the first impression.
Stiles was aware how he wasn’t the only one a little inhuman in the little town of Beacon Hills. And as Claudia taught him to recognise who the others were, he learned that the Hales howled at the full moon and the elderly Mrs. Trelawney down the block practiced magic in her free time, that the new girl Kira in his kindergarten class was some kind of fox and that there were two nymphs living in the small cottage near the lake. It was fascinating.
******* | 110fc9f17761465c8e14a2e1adb73fc2 | ['e97a0858a3924001b0fd244928f27687'] | All Peter feels is the fire — the touch of flames licking his skin on the left side of his face, the smell of burned flesh in his nostrils, the bitter and dry taste of ash in his mouth. It’s all he sees too — slivers of red and orange behind his closed eyelids, his sister, his _alpha_ burning in agony right before him, the painful and visual snapping of the bonds in his soul as his pack-mates die. It’s a circle of hell he’s been stuck in for what seems like forever — not being able to look away from the memory as he doesn’t have the strength to even open his eyelids.
In the simplest of terms it’s torture. Reliving the worst moments of his life, unable to do anything but endure the pain, the memories, the sounds and smells that are stuck in his mind with seemingly no upcoming respite. It’s something he deserves, too — having to see his entire pack die in front of him time and time again. Peter was supposed to be the enforcer, the _left hand_, someone who notices and gets rid of any threats to the pack before they strike. He _should_ hurt for not being able to save them.
It was almost better before, when he was so badly burnt he wasn’t aware of anything at all. When he almost didn’t exist here, was on a blank plane of existence that felt like nothing. But something pulled him back from that edge — two, or was it three?, pack bonds, frayed but still there.
He was brought back to his mind if only to burn, over and over again, if only to feel the already thin pack bonds get even thinner to a point he could no longer feel them over the agony. Peter couldn’t even scream.
And then, for a brief moment, there was the soothing relief of dipping in the cold ocean on a hot day. For a short period of time the heat around him fell to a manageable level and returned in a gentle simmer rather a scorching burn. It was like magic. It _was_ magic, Peter realised with a clearer head already, for nothing used in medicine could bring relief so fast to a werewolf — a being whose skin should regenerate quick enough for the heat to be instantly gone in the first place.
Peter wanted to chase the soothing cold, wanted to curl up near the source so that nothing could touch him — not the people in the hospital taking care of him nor his memories that looked more like nightmares. Something must have spooked the source of it, though, for as quick as it appeared, it was suddenly gone again. And while his skin felt just a little cooler still, he knew it wouldn’t last long.
As the pain overtook the other senses once more, he could only hope the magic would be there to soothe the heat again.
**Author's Note:**
> Thanks for reading, babes. While I know where I want this to go (kind of), shoot your ideas in the comments if you have any, we'll see - maybe something will actually fit my narrative or at least inspire me a bit more.
>
> Hope to post an update soon. |
a7d758fc4d69464b8b960323a3cf6510 | ['e99ebb15216a4e9eaec7a5d90bbcd0c7'] | Then I remembered that in the movie, Judy wasn't registered into the police systems which made me question if I was. “Say, am I registered into the police system?”
Clawhauser typed something into his computer before he locked back up at me. “Noooo, not yet.”
I scratched the back of my neck. “Does this mean the tickets I issued today are going to be thrown out or something because technically I'm not an actual officer?”
Clawhauser froze up at that statement, unsure what to say. ”Well, can you get me registered by tomorrow.”
He snapped out of his stupor and continued. “Oh, of course, I'll send a request down to the MR department. It usually takes them about four to five hours to register a new mammal. I don't know why they haven't registered you yet.”
I smiled at his words. “Thanks pal.”
I turned around before and ran out the door so I could take the metro to the west side of downtown.
* * *
I entered Richard's bar to the familiar smell of booze and cooked meals. It was a quiet day for him, especially since it wasn't sporting season. It was quiet, a few patrons here and there, a band playing some tunes and various games like darts and chess. The bar looked like the pub I went to back home, minus all the stuffed animal heads and other British decor. Also, I couldn't order any of my favorite dishes like mutton or a shepherd's pie. Instead, it's bloody fish and chips or bugs. The lynx, who was bartender and the owner of the establishment, was a bloke named Sterling Richards. He didn't mind the presence of foxes in his bar so long as nobody tried to put any drinks on a tab that wasn't prepaid for. “Hey Sterling, mind hitting me up with the usual?”
“You got it.”
I sat down at the bar and Sterling gave me my usual drink, a lager. I preferred lagers over an ale because of the taste but I could always drink an ale. I took a sip. It wasn't at all like the beers back home though. Something about them was a little different. Perhaps it was the taste, maybe it was the brand, or perhaps it was just me and my bias to foreign beers. Then, I felt someone come up behind me and cover me eyes. Though I couldn't see, I could instantly smell that it was Nichole. “Hello love, bout time you showed up.”
“Awww, that's so sweet of you. Thank you for buying a drink for me.”
I pulled her paw off my faced and looked down to see Nichole had taken my lager. Damn, she is good. She sat beside me and smiled. Well, time to catch up on that story Nichole was going to tell me. “Sooooo, Nichole, about the story of Judy. What happened to her.”
“Well, I don't know, why don't you buy me a martini first. I hate the taste of beer.”
“Alright. Hey, Richard, why don't you give the little lady here a martini. And, while your at it, can I get a plate of fish and chips?”
“You got it.”
“Thanks.”
While he went off to prepare a drink and a meal, Nichole gave me back my drink. “So, Nichole, why don't you tell me about what happened to Judy?”
“Oh, alright. Well, I first noticed her when I was melting down the popsicle in the square. I saw she was spying on Finnick and me but I didn't really think about it because she was a rabbit after all.”
“That's a bit specieist.”
“Oh be quiet. So, as I was saying, I noticed her following us around-Oh thank you.”
She took the martini from Richard who nodded and continued to serve the other patrons. “So, she followed us the entire way, from the square to tundra town, the bank and little rodentia. So, after you left me in that alley, that rabbit came by and confronted me about my business venture.”
“And?”
“She started going off about how immoral my actions were and that what I was doing was illegal, how I didn't have a permit or a vendors license. And even when I flashed her those documents, she still kept going off on me with morals and other stuff so I led her into a street she had been through. And, surprise surprise, there were about twenty mammals there who were really angry at her. They started to yell at her and she just kept trying to justify her actions. While this was happening, I managed to sneak away while the mob chased her.”
“Bloody hell Nichole, you keep this behavior up and I'll start thinking I did this to you. She did end up hiding in a dumpster after you left.”
She laughed before she managed to calm down and catch her breath. “Ah, who cares. She's way to over her head.”
“Come on Nichole, that sort of stuff can do something to a rookies head.”
“Naaah, she'll just roll over and give up. A doe like her wouldn't last a month.”
“You never know. She's a little to bright eyed to just give up like that. Oh hey, our food is here. Thanks Richard.”
“No problem. Put this on your tab?”
“Yep.”
He set down a plate of fish and chips between us as well as a bottle of ketchup and tartar sauce. I always liked a chippie, I just hated the mashed peas that sometimes came with it. And even if there isn't any extra salt or malt vinegar to go with it, ketchup will do. Nichole however, like that tartar sauce more. We split the meal and watched the sitcom, F.U.R.E.N.D.S that was playing on television which was a parody of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. How strange.
* * *
**Author's Note:**
> I'm adding some of my fanfics to this website to get some more traffic and feedback. | 2b57e1ed72344ca7a6499f72dac765a1 | ['e99ebb15216a4e9eaec7a5d90bbcd0c7'] |
Faux fox(Redux)
Chapter 1: Welcome to zootopia...
* * *
Entry 1
It's been a while since I wrote and I lost my old journal so I'll start again. I am Marcus Greenfield, I was part of a British security force that was assigned to protect a multinational arctic expedition team. Before I joined the security force, I was a soldier a British tank crewman and I served in Iraq when I was 20 as a part of the 7th armored birgade under the command of General Adrian Bradshaw. I was the gunner in a challenger 2 tank. My tank commander was Phillips Dorchester, the loader was Tomas Hairring, and the driver was Percy Phillips. I joined back in 2003 and served until 2004 when I took some shrapnel to my leg when my convoy was ambushed. I did go back home to my cooking career but I stayed on reserves. On this expedition, I was issued an sa80 on me as well as a m9 beretta but I did manage to sneak two frag grenades with me. I was never briefed on what we were supposed to find, all we knew was that something was broadcasting a strange signal in the arctic circle and we had to protect the research team. We were out there for a good 14 days trying to pin down that signal. There were 20 of us, 8 were researchers, 4 were American soldiers, 4 British soldiers, and 4 french soldiers. Most of the soldiers thought it was aliens, however, the scientists believed it was due to an anomaly in the magnetosphere. During a blizzard, I got separated from the unit and I had to hide in a cave. That's when I noticed some sort of glowing crystal at the end of the cave that was giving off an extreme amount of heat. When I attempted to approach it, shocked me extremely hard and it knocked me out. When I woke up, I was in the middle of a white room, chained to a bed. The strangest part was the fact that I had become a red fox. Apparently, I fizzled into the ZBI building in the middle of Zootropolis or Zootopia from what the yanks called it, with all my equipment. Needless to say, they were really freaked out by me coming in out of the blue.
I remembered watching Zootropolis when it came out, it was a pretty good movie. They questioned me for days on end but eventually they began to realize I wasn't supposed to be there, nor was I an actual threat. Eventually, they let me go, I was given an identity, background, they gave me back all my weapons, gear and set up place to stay for me. Apparently, they don't have lethal firearms here and the best thing they got are tranquilizers and tasers. In turn, I would join the ZPD to contribute to society as well as preform special tasks for them. Not as bad as I thought it would be considering the fact that I'm basically one of them. I've already gone through training, graduated and became the first fox police officer of Zootopia which goes to show I'm at the beginning of the movie. Today is my first day of work as precinct one. Good luck me.
Also, fuck me, I'm starting to write and sound more like a yank. Mother was right, I am becoming an American. At least I haven't called football soccer... Yet.
* * *
I put my notebook back into my satchel as I sat in the crowded briefing room, there were wolves, hippos, tigers and loads of other mammals. It's not at all like home where everyone just sat down quietly and waited for the major to brief us. Then, she came in. Judy Hopps, I remember her from the movie and we were in the same class. We never talked, though I knew she was uncomfortable around me, her eyes had that glint of fear that I knew all too well. She walked to the table across from mine and sat down next to a rhino. I was sitting next to a polar bear and 2 wolves. Suddenly, the hippo in the front of the room shouted for our attention and we all stood. The mammals around me, except for Judy, began to hoot loudly as the chief entered. “Alright. Alright! Everybody sit.”
The chief stepped behind the podium before he continued, “I've got three items on the docket. First... we need to acknowledge the elephant in the room...”
The whole room seemed to freeze as the chief looked up from his papers, “Francine-- happy birthday.”
The room briefly erupted into a cacophony of shouts and cheers as they began to praise their fellow officer. The room fell silent again before the chief continued. “Number two; there are some new recruits with us I should introduce, but I'm not going to because I don't care.”
Everyone briefly snickered and I joined in. The chief straightened out his papers before he began to read off them again. “Finally; we have fourteen missing mammal cases-- all predators - from a giant polar bear to a teensy little otter, and City hall is right up my tail to find them! This is priority number one. Assignments: Officers Grizzoli, Fangmeyer, Delgato; your teams take missing mammals from the Rainforest District.”
The three officers walked up to the front of the room and took their file. “Officers McHorn, Rhinowitz, Wolfard; your teams take Sahara Square.”
Another three went up and took their file. “Officers Higgins, Snarlov, Trunkaby: Tundratown.”
Now it was just Judy and I waiting in the room for our assignments. “And finally our first bunny and fox officers: Officers Hopps and Greenfield...parking duty. Dismissed!”
“Yes sir!” |
8e63c5c076ac4b2fa3e15f85f0db9f9d | ['e9a616b858bd474cb643638bcb29b077'] | “We have to move,” he says, his eyes flitting nervously from her face to her blood-stained furs before at long last sparing a weary glance to the chaos still unfolding around them. “I’ll take you to Maester Aemon. I’ll find a way.”
“Shot in the back by a Crow,” is Ygritte’s only garbled reply. Her slurred words draw his eyes back to hers and he shakes his head slowly, his jaw set. “’S’not how I wanted to die.”
“You’re not going to die.” There’s such conviction in his voice, in the warm fingers gripping her face and the deep pools of his eyes, that Ygritte almost believes him.
“All men must die,” she breathes, eyes closed, wincing as he lifts her slightly with one arm so that he can slide the other under her knees. Her head lolls against his shoulder as he stands, retreating into the shadows, trying to avoid attention and fire, friendly or otherwise.
Ygritte’s ears ring as the pain in her chest spikes sickeningly. She feels the briefest, softest pressure on her forehead and imagines it’s his lips; her eyes will no longer obey her command to open. She can’t even tell if they're moving or not; it’s all she can do to stay conscious, to hold off the unknown for just a bit longer.
“You’re a free woman.” His words – her words, really - swim to her slowly, she’s not even sure she’s heard him right. She’s always been wrong, though. She wasn't free then and she isn't free now, either.
“No.” She has no concept of how delayed her reply is; she’s aware of two things only: Jon Snow’s heart beating furiously below her ear, and her own, desperately trying feed life through her veins towards the bairn who depends on it, on her, on both of them.
She hasn't told him. She never got the chance to. And now…if she dies, she feels that, in this instance, it will be better that he knows nothing. He can’t miss what he never knew he had.
“Ygritte?” It takes a gargantuan effort to force her eyes open. He’s staring back at her, from where she knows not; she hardly cares. Such a pretty lad.
“’M’not free, Jon Snow,” she mumbles before coughing suddenly, a bitter, coppery taste in her mouth. His concerned frown grows blurry as her eyes close once more. She’ll not fight any longer. “’M’yours.” | a57a8e84c51b443d803ddc7afe7a8de6 | ['e9a616b858bd474cb643638bcb29b077'] |
Let It Happen
**Author's Note:**
> These two idiots have been playing on my mind for a while now. I'm not sure if I've made myself feel better or worse about them by writing this. Starts from when Jon turns and first sees Ygritte, mid-battle. Strays from the book/TV plot. I own nothing.
“Ygritte.” Her name on his lips makes her feel things she had vowed never to feel again. A traitorous skip in her heartbeat, a shiver up her spine that she can’t control. Inappropriate considering they’re in the middle of a battle. Inappropriate in general after all the promises she’s been making to herself.
She has been over this moment in her head time and time again. It’s been the only thing keeping her going recently.
_One of the only things_ , a voice reminds her. She pushes the emotions back. _Not now_.
It was all planned. All of it. The next time she saw Jon Snow she’d put an arrow through his heart. And this time she wouldn't miss. This time, she’d do to him what he had done to her.
But here they were. The moment was here. He was here, a cleaner target than she could ever have hoped for. The lost Crow with nowhere left to fly. _Her_ lost Crow. The pretty boy who knew nothing. He looked different, though; less of a boy, more of a man. Still lost.
And still alive.
She sobs. Only once, but it’s once more than she ever wanted to. She feels raw. Vulnerable. Her usually steady hand shakes on her bow, the arrow she still hasn't fired almost burning her fingers.
It had never been her intention to love him. He had merely intrigued her at first; an anomaly. A Crow who didn't live up to expectations. Sullen, sensitive and so unpredictable. A man of the Night’s Watch like she’d never anticipated.
He didn't kill her. He should've done.
She had teased him to remind herself of how she was supposed to feel. Ultimately, all it achieved was to endear him to her. He made her feel things she didn't understand. He excited her. He scared her. Sometimes, looking into his eyes was like looking into a fire she couldn't tear her gaze from.
He stole her, she stole him. They stole each other, in no particular order. And then he left.
Turns out, she knew nothing either.
The battle rages around them. Shouts of war, shouts of pain. Life and death. Ygritte hears arrows ripping through the air. Still, she doesn't release hers. Jon Snow still stands.
He smiles suddenly, deliriously. She smiles back without meaning to, a reaction. Hope courses through her without her permission. She almost hates herself. He moves towards her infinitesimally, she’s not even sure he’s aware of what he’s doing. He still knows nothing. Neither of them do.
She pulls the arrow impossibly taught. His eyes hold hers, deep and unfathomable. Warm, in spite of their current situation. He was always so warm, her proper lover. He was supposed to be a cold, unfeeling man of the Night’s Watch, just like she had always been warned of. But he was only ever warm, warmer than anyone she had ever known or would ever know.
Except when he left her. Then, she had never felt so cold.
“Ygritte,” he repeats. It’s nothing more than a whisper, drowned by the ongoing fighting, but she hears him all the same. She recognises a look in his eyes from when she first saw him. That look that shows he’s so strong but so afraid. They’re both strong and both afraid.
Her lip trembles. She can’t do it, she realises. She can’t kill him. She doesn't want to; she never did. And Ygritte has never done things unless she wants to.
“Jon Snow,” she says. She’s thankful that her voice, at least, is steadier than her resolve.
He smiles again, that heartbreaking, unintentional smile she used to like to think is reserved only for her and she feels the strangest desire to laugh. Laugh, and never stop laughing at the ridiculousness of this whole situation.
They’re supposed to be enemies. He was supposed to kill her long ago. She’s supposed to have killed him by now. And instead they’re smiling as if nothing ever happened. As if their comrades aren't fighting and dying around them. As if he never left and she never let him go. As if they both know everything.
She sobs again. It rips from her. She doesn't even try to stifle it this time. Pain flashes in his warm eyes and he takes another, tentative step towards her. He’s never once looked away, never once even looked like he has any desire to, never once given even a glance to the arrow she’s still aiming at his heart. It makes her feel like he loves her, like it wasn't all a lie after all. It reignites every emotion Jon Snow has ever made her feel and reminds her that she still loves him. After everything.
She unconsciously starts to lower the bow, her fingers loosening on the arrow, but not in the way she had planned.
And yet, Jon Snow doesn't look relieved that there’s no longer an arrow poised to kill him. He never reacts how she expects him to. Confusion mars his beautiful face. Panic. His eyes leave hers for the first time ever, flashing to the side and back again. He looks like he’s in pain. It hurts her to see it. She feels it psychically; it racks through her making it hard to breathe as she feels her bow slip suddenly from her uncommonly lax grip before clattering to the ground. She doesn't understand; she’s stronger than this. |
9bfd77e08f7f420b8bd31bb8fcf17d6b | ['e9ec79a23fa44b92bae12c4f55a49a29'] | _Cannot buy me devil, devil._
_You won't make a fool of me, oh no."_
Luckily the Serpent King's throne was directly in front of the stage for optimal viewing. Betty slinked forward on her hands and knees toward the edge of the platform and she knew she should have felt ridiculous, but instead she felt like a wild cat on the prowl. There was a hint of panic in FP's eyes as she climbed down from the stage and sauntered toward him on two feet.
_"What makes you so special, special_
_To think I would ever settle_
_For that devious dance between me and the devil, devil."_
Betty kicked his heel, spreading his legs apart before lowering herself between them. As the song drew to a close, she pulled her hair off the nape of her neck and tilted her head to the side. She rested her forehead on his knee, bearing her throat in a clear sign of submission.
"_Devil, devil_."
-x-
FP was never sure how the events of an evening were going to play out when there was an Initiation Ceremony. The Serpents liked to celebrate boisterously, so anything could happen. However, Elizabeth Cooper performing the Ouroboros wasn't something he could have predicted. When she had walked out on stage, any blood he needed for cognitive thinking went straight south.
He was transfixed, watching her sinuous movements capture his attention like a snake-charmer. Her routine was fluidly precise and FP knew this wasn't a last minute decision. He realized this must have been what Toni and Betty had been working during their absence the last few weeks.
It was an official pledge to the Southside Serpents and FP's emotions were all over the place. He was torn between being ecstatic she wanted to be a part of something he cherished and apprehensive of the repercussions for letting her join. There was only one thing left for her to do and FP did not have to wait long to find out how she planned to show her allegiance to the Serpent King.
As her performance neared its end, he could feel his pulse quicken as Betty descended from the stage like she was stalking her prey. It was difficult not to react and his pants grew impossibly tight when she knelt at his feet, physically declaring her submission. FP couldn't control how his body responded to having her so close to his groin and he reached out, swiping a thumb across her lower lip.
He resisted the urge to groan, nudging her chin gently so she sat up and stood up from his throne, motioning for Betty to follow suit. All eyes were on them and everyone was waiting on bated breath to hear the King's decision. FP cleared his throat before he addressed the room.
"Serpents!" He shouted. "It seems we have a potential new member on our hands." FP was momentarily interrupted by some hollering and he saw Betty shuffle her feet while she awkwardly stood there out of the corner of his eye. "Although she has performed the Ouroboros successfully, Ms. Cooper failed to announce her pledge before tonight's Initiation Ceremony."
"We'll put it to a vote! All those in favor?" The room exploded in a burst of noise that startled the blonde standing next to him. By the sound of it, no one in the bar was sitting silent and he knew he didn't even have to ask for the opposing vote.
"Welcome to the Southside Serpents, Elizabeth Cooper." He nearly had to shout and gave her an impish grin while he shrugged off his jacket, holding it up so Betty could slip her arms into the sleeves.
"You'd have your own if you'd given me some notice," FP chuckled when she flushed in response. "There's no need to be shy, you're a Serpent now, after all."
Despite her embarrassment, Betty grabbed his arm and pulled him in closer. "I was wondering if there was some place we could talk?" She asked softly in his ear and he nodded in response.
"There's an office upstairs if that's acceptable?"
At her nod of agreement, FP motioned for her to go ahead of him and stepped behind her, guiding Betty through the crowd huddled around the bar towards the stairs that let to the office. He was close enough he could feel the electricity between them, their skin nearly touching. He was on edge, still hard in his black jeans as he watched her climb the stairs in front of him. His Serpent jacket was large on her, but it was still short enough for him to see the bottom part of her cheeks as she walked.
Once they reached the top there was a locked door. Betty had tried the handle before she looked over her shoulder at FP. He crowded her against the door slightly as he dug for his keys in his pocket. When he grabbed them he looked up to see Betty staring at him with flushed cheeks and her expression made him want to reach back in his pocket and readjust the length that continued to thicken against his thigh.
_This girl is going to be the death of me. _FP thought to himself as he pulled the key ring from his pocket, licking his lower lip. His cock twitched when her eyes fell to his mouth with an almost hungry look. His hands shook slightly as he sectioned off the key to his office and stepped in even closer to could unlock the door. Betty tilted her head back to look at him through hooded lashes and he had the perfect view down his leather cut. | 48aeee0ef0a34649abe89b53b53418ca | ['e9ec79a23fa44b92bae12c4f55a49a29'] | "Don't worry about it." He growled, nearly stomping off. FP knew he should have never gotten invested, but it still didn't ease the sting of being avoided.
-x-
"Girl, you have got to make an appearance at Jughead's soon." Toni announced the next morning, sliding in the booth at Pop's across from Betty. They decided to stop in for breakfast and go over the Serpent Laws. The blonde frowned as she took a sip of her frothy latte.
"Something happen?" She asked and before Toni could reply the diner door chimed and FP walked through, looking slightly worse for wear. He made a beeline for the kitchen, not even looking around to see who was there.
"Exhibit A." Toni gestured with a held tilt and Betty's brow furrowed. "I went to the Whyte Wyrm after I left your place because Cheryl was in one of her moods," Toni paused to roll her eyes. "FP came up to me and asked if I had seen you lately. I told him I just did and when I asked if anything was wrong he got spooked and left. I think he's getting suspicious."
Toni turned her attention to the menu and Betty bit her lip, watching the swing door that led to the back of the restaurant. A hostess swung by their table and took their orders to help relieve the waitstaff and Toni excused herself to use the restroom before FP finally emerged.
He looked tense, tying an apron around his waist with jerky movements. FP was scanning the room to visually check on his tables and Betty's pulse quickened slightly when his eyes fell on her and he visibly relaxed as he made his way over to where she was sitting.
"Hey," He smiled down at her with full FP charm. "Paige get you taken care of?"
Betty nodded, fighting down her blush. "Yeah, we're good." He hovered there for a moment and she took in his messy appearance. It looked like he had woken up on the wrong side of the bed, clearly late for his shift.
"Everything ok?" She asked quietly, giving him a concerned look.
"I'm fine, phone died while I was asleep and I missed my alarms." FP explained and Betty was slightly surprised to see him look almost bashful.
"Okay, just checking." She watched him fidget for a moment, wondering if he had caught on to her plan. He seemed nervous, like he was uncomfortable to be around her. "Um, I know Jug just had friends over yesterday, but would it be ok if we had a movie night? I was just about to ask him, but I figured the host would like to give permission first."
"Yeah, that'd be fine." FP didn't quite meet her eyes and Betty couldn't identify his expression; she pouted for a moment and was about to call him out on it when Toni came back.
"Hey Jones." She greeted him as she slid back into her seat, breaking them of their awkward silence. FP returned the gesture before excusing himself to tend to his other tables.
"That go okay?" Toni asked her friend quietly once he was out of range. Betty seemed frazzled, chewing at her lip. She sighed in response, slouching back on the bench.
"I've just got to play it cool for one more week."
-x-
Time seemed to go by in slow motion and double-time all at once for Betty. FP's mood seemed to have went back to normal after the group came over for Movie Night. Betty made sure to make small appearances through out the next week while she continued to prepare for initiation. She didn't want him to get suspicious and turn down her pledge before she even had the chance to offer it.
Finally the day of the ceremony arrived; Betty and Toni had planned to get up extra early that morning to do a final run through at the Wyrm before any of the other Serpents showed. FP took the day off and they knew he would be at the bar earlier than normal to get it ready for that night and they didn't want to risk running into him.
Toni picked her up on her motorcycle, much to Alice's dismay. She had received permission to stay the night at her friend's place so her absence that night wouldn't be questioned. Betty put on the spare helmet and slipped her arms through the straps of her duffle so it was resting verticle on her back before climbing on behind Toni. If she wanted to be apart of this life she was going to have to get used to riding.
The parking lot was empty when they arrived to their relief. They made their way inside and Betty tossed her bag into their usual booth as Toni went behind the bar to make some coffee. It was a comfortable routine they had set up and Betty knew she was going to miss it.
It wasn't long before Toni came back over with two steaming mugs, each prepared to their liking and set them down before getting comfortable. She got the sound system turned on and Betty took a seat across from her in the booth so they could drink their coffee and chat.
"So, are you going to let anyone else know about this before the big reveal tonight?" Toni asked, chuckling while she gestured to the pole.
Betty sighed, taking a sip before she answered. "I'm still not sure, I don't want anyone to try and talk me out of it. If they don't know beforehand, they can't do anything about it."
Toni shrugged. "That's true, but do you really think they won't support you on this?" |
625e0d565f33415b9d39e7caa515a7be | ['ea0be4764de544339b165bbcfa25ed4a'] | “Hobbits are too, blessed by Lady Yavanna.”Bilbo gloated, but then stopped in the middle with face turned into dread. “Ah…” suddenly the expression was closed off, “I mean… it’s nothing.” Bilbo shook _his_ head. “You’re right, anyway. Let’s go back.”
“Bilbo.” He called softly. Bilbo didn’t answer, only looked at him in a bitter silence before walked to where they came from.
*
“Should I tell him the truth or let him finding out by himself?” Bilbo asked Gandalf as they sat on a bench, watching the stars from the long and narrow crack on the stone wall. It has been a week since he met Thorin. He appreciated the teasing, molesting, and even amused at the way Thorin and Aragorn shared cold glare and sometimes –witty remarks- about each other. Arathorn stopped trying to provoke Thorin with (un-existed) coupling between the man and Bilbo but declared that Thorin should stay away from Bilbo because a ranger should not have dalliance with outsider.
Not that it ceased Thorin from seeing Bilbo.
Gandalf snorted. “I don’t console love problem, my dear.”
“Yet you bring him here, right onto my face. Tell me, Gandalf. Do you know about him this entire time?”
"You don’t want to know if I _know_ him or not.”
_Wizard_. Bilbo cursed mentally. “Why he’s here, anyway?”
“He didn’t tell you?” Now Gandalf looked surprised, though it didn’t lessen the twinkle of blasted joy in the wizard’s eyes. “Then I could share nothing to you, Bilbo. It’s his right to explain about his quest to you, though I think he’ll be the one who get the most shocking –if not pleasant- surprise than you.” while Bilbo digested the words into his mind, Gandalf already laughed merrily and returned to watch the falling snow outside.
“I don’t understand.” Though Bilbo could guess, he decided to shake his head in clueless.
“You don’t have to, my dear friend.” Gandalf chuckled, “Time will tell when everything finally came into senses.”
*
9. Honesty
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> thanks for the hits and kudos and hopefully you'll still enjoy reading!
*
Arathorn was right.
Bilbo would never get enough from his own crappy imagination to satisfy the lust. Some rangers offered to _help_ but Men didn’t understand that hobbits are faithful and loyal to their beloved. Hobbits shared hugs and chaste kisses to sweethearts but they didn’t sleep around just for pleasure. Even for Bilbo who was probably the most reckless hobbit ever lived, he loved Thorin of any obliviousness existed in this universe.
“Hhh…” Bilbo shuddered, cold from the strong wind at the top of the tower. When the heat kicked in, he left his shared bedroom with Arathorn and Elias (another reason why Thorin shouldn’t get jealous because they merely gathered in the same room to keep each other warm), before he climbed up and exposed his pain to the night. It’s like a battle between the built arousal versus the winter breeze, turning his face blue with the unbearable cold because touching will only wet his rear and having his release only prompted another heat to perform and tormented him more.
Somehow knowing Thorin was near bringing a better fantasy to feed his lust, though it still uncomfortable to deal it by himself. He could only drop his weight onto his knees and writhed as he dug his claws into his arms because he _really_ craved to be touched. He wanted Thorin to stop being gentle and slammed him to the harsh floor, so he could moan wantonly when his skin get bruised from the cold stone. He wanted his dwarf straddled him, twisted him and tied his wrist and ankles until he could only feel numbness. Until he could only feel Thorin whether it was the beautiful voice hummed through his groin, or the stone hard cock rammed into his hungry rear with no mercy, because he didn’t need gentleness. He wanted it hard and deep, straining his inner wall with protest and tearing him apart with ecstasy.
Bilbo breathed. He was wet, from both source of his pleasure. Thankfully, tonight he didn’t need to stay out for long. The chill and the fantasy reduced the heat so he could climb back down through the stairs and cleaned himself in the bath quarter, taking a moment to recover from the high and then made himself tea before he returned to his chamber.
“Hey.”
There was Thorin, sitting by the wall in one of the guard stations. Bilbo fixed himself with more layers of thick coat before he greeted the dwarf. Now his lust had being taken care of, he looked content as he took a seat next to the dwarf. Thorin shifted, invited him to lean close to share warmth and Bilbo accepted the invitation to bury himself into the living furnace. He expected to exchange some pleasantries and sharing words about trivia things. But Thorin wasn’t a talkative person to begin with and Bilbo was tired to do anything. He only watched the high and narrow window in front of them as Thorin hummed a song about the fire and dragon and a blessed kin.
Slowly, his mind drifted sleep and his dream contained about greedy dragon and an army of mighty dwarves marched out their mountain and forced the evilness to stay away from their land.
…………………………………………………
“Marry me.” | 97e5ee7203e047fb841f1ba1c5438182 | ['ea0be4764de544339b165bbcfa25ed4a'] | “Get up.” Thorin offered him hands and shyly he took them as his body rose and positioned to kneel on the King’s lap. Thorin ran the rough hands through his back and he had to hold onto the broad shoulders to suppress his blissful shudder. “Thorin...” He whispered the name, liking how it sounded out and so he decided to chant it, “Thorin... Thorin... Thorin...” All the way when he was lowered down, “Thorin...!” His eyes snapped shut and his body tensed but pain only triggered more haughty wants, even as his breath became shallow and his nails dug into the King's skin, “Thorin…”
They were stuck in between hell and heaven, so he opened his eyes to question what to do and Thorin answered it by snapped the remain of arousal to be seated whole in him, sending a loud wail escaped his throat like he was stuffed by massive firework which ready to explode and set his organs into turmoil.
That's why he appreciated it when Thorin moved, thrusting into him slow and deep, each time gave him heart attack and growing hardness in between his legs. He writhed, complaining at the torture of gentleness, though it was his first time, he wished to be silly and had Thorin did him harsh and hard, cause it was unfair if he's the only one who had to show his entire weakness, while Thorin remained calm and composed.
So he moaned louder, clung tighter and be as demanding as he could, in hope the King was driven away from conscious and lost in lust together with him.
*
10 years after
*
“So, what was your farewell gift, Uncle Bilbo?”
Bilbo Baggins paused, gaze stretched to younglings who sat eagerly in front of him, chocolate peanut cookie in each of their tiny hands. He stared at Peregrin Took who was the one asking, and he found himself smiling at the little hobbit. The thirst of knowledge he saw in Pippin gaze probably twice more dangerous than any Took ever lived.
“Is it a book? Or an ancient tome?” Young Frodo Baggins guessed.
“Oh, Oh, I know!” Meriadoc raised a hand excitedly, “it must be-…”
However, Pippin already tackled the lad with giggle, preventing him from saying anything, “shut it Merry, save your silly guess to yourself and let the oldman answer us immediately.”
“Yea, why are you wasting our time?” a girl pointed at Bilbo with her cookie.
“Sssh, quiet.” Bilbo chuckled at them, “I’m just about to tell you that. I just need…” His face flustered a bit because the part of tale that didn’t need to be share with kids, even after years the image of his first and last night with the King embedded to his memory. He cleared his throat, before smiled, “ah, so in the morning…”
_In the morning of winter day, Bilbo stood by the Erebor gate, ready to leave with Gandalf and Beorn. He took one last look at the mountain, and then at the Company who set him off. Hard was their face and stern was their gaze. It drew a sad smile to form on Bilbo lips, cause his heart swelled for their attention and love for him. They dear him as a friend of Dwarf -a heroic ones to bravely face Smaug- told him over and again that he got a right to call Erebor as home. Bilbo was tempted to stay, as the younger dwarves begged him to, even Ori clung to him and sobbed silently._
_‘That’s enough.’ After letting the Company mourned his leave for a while, Thorin approached him and took a deep breath, Bilbo could feel the heavy air around him, because this is the cruelest temptation for him, to see into the King eyes and believed his life belong here. The King saw the hesitation in him and tried to ease it by leaning to kiss him in between his eyebrows, along with a whisper, ‘Farewell, Bilbo Baggins.’ It was bitterly sweet to hear, yet it cleared his clouding mind, ‘You promised to help us gained back our home, now you can go back to yours as you always wished…’_
“I told you it’s a kiss!” Merry stood and doing a silly dance to congratulate himself, while other kids gaped at sheepish Bilbo, up until Fatty Bolger nudged Merry to sit again.
“So he kissed you?” Pippin furrowed his eyebrows in displease, “nothing more?”
“No secret tunnel flowed with gold?” the boy from Sackville-Baggins asked in irritation. It faltered the happiness in Bilbo face. He didn’t remember he invited the boy in here. But that was a lesser problem. He returned to his little audience and wrapped up the story for today.
.
“It’s a kiss from a King.” Fatty told stubborn Pippin who still couldn’t accept the story ended by a plain kiss. His nephews stayed over after other kids went home and now they were discussing the aftermath of Battle of Five Armies during dinner while Bilbo watched them in amusement.
“I still don’t get it.” Pippin shrugged, “It might be a different story if Uncle Bilbo was a woman. It’ll make sense. Kissing between male just…” Bilbo chuckled when Pippin made a face, “what do you think, Uncle? Tasteless? Lame?”
“Don’t hear him, Uncle.” Frodo whispered with a small smirk addressed to Pippin, “He didn’t care with different people and different culture.”
“True.” Merry bit on his cake while nodding, “You only care with your tummy, Pippin!”
The boys laughed and Bilbo couldn’t help but laughed along with them. He diverted their attention then by telling the beauty of Rivendell, and together they sang a song he composed in appreciation to the land of Imladris. |
02c6b6e5875946f9a122e00d6f2b6edb | ['ea0cae9cfe9b42e2813a652d9bb5791a'] | Steve broke and shook with grief before turning and pulling the small assassin to his chest, burying her face in her hair. His tears washed away with the spray of the shower. Natasha curled her arms around his neck, holding him while running her right hand thorough his hair. His large hands clutched her waist, pulling her flush to him. His breath was hot against her shoulder.
After a few minutes, Steve had calmed considerably. Natasha released him with her left hand, still holding him with her right. She slowly grabbed the hotel shampoo and turned back to face him, looking up at his tear stained face. His hands had moved their way up to grasp her forearms as she squeezed the shampoo into her right hand. She gently placed the shampoo back before returning to his embrace. Natasha gently began to massage the crisp smelling shampoo into Steve’s blonde locks. The Captain visibly began to relax, his eyes closing in pleasure. Natasha gently eased Steve into the spray, rinsing out the shampoo. The good Captain seemed to come back to life. Through the spray he looked down at the assassin, giving her a small smile before reaching for the shampoo.
Natasha let Steve wash her hair while she lathered a washcloth with a bar of clean smelling soap. She washed her body quickly before turning in Steve’s arms to wash his chest. Steve soon eased Natasha under the shower head, softly kissing her forehead before rinsing out the shampoo. Natasha tenderly kissed the edge of Steve’s mouth and cupped his cheek before shutting off the water.
Both dried off and dressed. Steve ordered room service while Natasha hung up her dress and braided her hair. He had lent her some of his old sweats and a button up shirt of his to wear. When Natasha emerged from the bath room, the food had arrived. Steve was already eating. Natasha soon joined him, sitting next to him on the small couch. They ate in a companionable silence.
After dinner, both were lounging on the couch, listening to the rain. Natasha was sipping a burgundy wine, her feet in Steve’s lap. Steve’s left hand rested on Nat’s leg, his right holding a book. After a moment, Natasha broke the silence.
“Steve?”
“Hmm?”
“Why’d you rip that drawing?”
Steve didn’t reply for a moment; Natasha didn’t press him. When he did respond, his voice was raw.
“It didn’t match her likeness. She was so much more than a pretty face. She was a warrior, a fighter, stronger than any man. She could do everything I could, but in heels. She was an enigma. She was fiery and passionate and…. And my drawing didn’t give her image justice.”
After a moment, Natasha placed her wine on the coffee table and picked up the wrinkled and torn drawing. Her right hand came to rest on Steve’s shoulder, her body melting into his side.
“You’re wrong, Steve.”
The Captain looked at her questionably.
“From what I’ve heard about Peggy was that she was hell in high heels. Anything a man could do she could do better. She was hard as nails. No image on the planet could portray her image properly… But your drawing brought out a softer side to her. Look.”
Natasha handed him the drawing.
“She looks happy. She’s not tainted by war or pain. She’s soft and smiling. That’s the girl without the war. If I was her, I’d want the ones I loved to remember me as just Natasha, not as the Black Widow or the S.H.I.E.L.D agent. Don’t you think?”
Steve just pulled Natasha into his arms, holding her tight.
“What would I do without you Tash?”
“You would be a very wet-eyed Captain.” Natasha teased, hugging him back. She affectionately ran her hands through his damp hair.
Steve just chuckled in reply.
The day the graveyard was barren accept for two figures in the early morning fog. Both were dressed in black. The man was kneeling at the grave of Margaret “Peggy” Carter; the woman was standing next to the man, a bouquet of red roses in her arms. The man stood and took a small piece of paper from his coat pocket, placing it on the grave stone. The woman placed the bouquet of flowers on top of the memorial.
“Ready?” the man asked.
“Just give me a moment to pay my respects; I’ll be right with you.” The woman replied.
The man nodded and began heading back to the car that was waiting for them. The woman kneeled next to the grave and placed her hand on the tombstone.
“Peggy old dear, don’t you worry your old soul. The Captain is in good hands. I promise.”
3. Chapter 3
It was a sunny afternoon when Steve returned to the Avenger’s tower after a mission debrief with Director Fury. Natasha and Clint had returned from an undercover mission in the rainy slums of Brazil just hours before. The mission had gone well.
When Steve entered the main living area of the Tower, Natasha wasn’t there. Clint was covered with a blanket, sitting on one of the bar stools of the kitchen island. He had a thermometer in his mouth and was looking pitiful. Bruce was making some soup on the stove. Thor was asleep on the couch. Tony was walking around with a surgeon’s mask on, spraying Lysol around Clint. The archer gave Tony a scathing look. Steve looked at the millionaire with a raised brow.
“Hello Capsicle.” Tony greeted, spraying the Captain with disinfectant.
“Tony.” The Captain greeted, coughing when he inhaled the spray. “What’s with the mask and disinfectant?” he asked gesturing to Tony’s face and the Lysol bottle in the millionaire’s hand.
“There is illness here! I can’t get sick or else Pepper will kill me. I had to take precaution. “ Tony responded.
Clint let out a large sneeze. | 341064ce502d4a84b89ec3255a81873f | ['ea0cae9cfe9b42e2813a652d9bb5791a'] | Thirty minutes later, she zipped up the suitcase, complete with her guns and his shield, and rolled it to their door. She then crawled in bed and lay on her fiancée’s chest for a few minutes, gently tracing shapes on the planes of his chest. Slowly, the super soldier began to wake.
“Morning Sleeping Beauty,” Natasha remarked, running her hand through his blond locks.
“Mmh. Morning,” Steve replied, his voice gruff.
“Hurry up and get in the shower. We have to leave for the airport in thirty.”
“Mmh. Got it,” he murmured, rolling over and stumbling to his feet. He let out a large yawn and stretch his sore muscles.
“You gonna join me?” he asked, heading towards the shower.
“Nope. No time,” Natasha replied, kissing his softly on the cheek.
“Besides, I’m already dressed.”
Steve gave her a childish puppy dog pout.
Natasha laughed and threw his clothes at his face.
“Go get ready!” she ordered, laughing at her fiancée’s antics.
Steve’s laugh echoed throughout the bathroom as he headed to shower.
Fifteen minutes later, Steve emerged, fully dressed and shaved.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Waiting on you, slowpoke,” Natasha replied, shouldering her camera bag.
“Well I’m sorry,” Steve retorted. “It takes gramps a while to get up in the mornings.”
Natasha laughed and gently slapped his shoulder.
“C’mon Gramps. If we’re late, Tony’ll kill us.”
Steve chuckled and picked up both their bags.
The couple quickly headed to the parking garage where the rest of the team was meeting.
Surprisingly, they weren’t the last to arrive.
Clint came stumbling in a few minutes after them, his outfit and hair all disheveled.
Before questions could be asked, Tony was ushering them into the car.
“Let’s go. Let’s go,” Tony persisted. “We can talk later.
* * *
The team made it to the airport in record time.
They quickly loaded their luggage and boarded without complication, causing the plane to take off somewhat on schedule.
During the ride, Natasha tried to get answers out of Clint, but her attempts fell short when the archer put his headphones in, drowning her out. So instead, Natasha decided to pass the flight by snuggling up with her super soldier.
Natasha soon fell asleep on Steve shoulder as he softly chatted with Thor about the Midgardian game of baseball, which Thor had a huge fascination with. Bruce would occasionally join in due to the fact that he used to play before his accident. The conversation went from baseball to other sports, starting with basketball and ending with football. Thor was also fascinated with the prospect of football.
Tony had his hands full the whole flight, trying to prevent Pepper from planning out their wedding. The CEO was adamant about making it all perfect, stressing out everyone with her OCD tendencies. A few times the woman wanted to wake the sleeping Natasha in order to get her opinion on certain subjects, but Tony would shake his head and tell her it was a bad idea. Finally, Tony got fed up and slammed her laptop shut. The CEO was outraged.
“Tony!” she gasped, standing up.
Her outburst caught everyone’s attention, even Clint’s.
Steve shifted slightly, pressing Natasha’s head closer to his chest in hope that Pepper’s outburst wouldn’t wake her.
“Pepper. Please lower your voice, you’re going to wake Natasha,” Tony pleaded.
“No!” Pepper argued. “What do you have against me planning the wedding? It’s not going to plan itself!”
Steve winced at how loud Pepper’s voice was. Natasha was shifting in his arms. He made quick eye contact with Clint, who nodded and handed over his sound canceling headphones. Steve, with the help of Bruce, expertly slid them over Natasha’s ears. Natasha quickly stilled, falling back into a deeper sleep.
“I don’t have a problem with you planning it, Pepper. It’s just that this is vacation. No work,” Tony argued. “And that includes the wedding.”
Pepper pouted.
Tony sighed before continuing. “Look Pep. I know you’re excited about the wedding, but its stressing all of us out, especially Natasha.”
Pepper looked confused. “What do you mean? She hasn’t said anything.”
“You know Natasha. She thinks she can do everything. She won’t admit weakness to anyone, except Steve,” Tony explained. “And Steve’s been gone all week. Not to mention that she’s been taking all the press heat at work, trying to help keep our baby out of the papers. On top of that, she’s been helping you with the wedding, whenever you call.”
Pepper looked surprised. “I... I didn’t know.”
“No one is blaming you, Pepper,” Steve clarified.
“Yeah Pep. We want you and Tony to have that fairytale wedding,” Clint added.
“We just are all feeling stress,” Bruce commented.
“So that is why the man of iron proclaimed this week to be one of joyous activities and relaxation,” Thor finished.
Pepper looked at the team. “I’m sorry guys.”
Steve shook his head. “Don’t be. But do us all a favor and keep the planning to a minimum. We all want to enjoy this vacation together, with no distractions.”
Pepper nodded. “I will. Thanks guys.”
“No problem, Pep,” Clint replied.
Pepper smiled and put her laptop in her bag.
* * *
A good three hours later, the plane touched down at the airport.
The team began to get their things together while Steve gently began to wake Natasha up.
“Tash?” Steve murmured, caressing her face. “It’s time to get up. We’ve landed.”
Natasha groaned and slowly woke up.
“There she is,” Steve cooed jokingly. “Sleeping Beauty’s finally up.”
Natasha smiled and playfully pushed him. Steve laughed.
“How long was I out?” Natasha asked, yawning.
“About three hours.”
Natasha stood up and stretched. “That’s the best sleep I’ve had in a week.”
“Missed your favorite pillow?” Steve asked, standing up.
Natasha looked up at him. “You know I did.”
Steve smiled and pulled her into his arms. “I missed you too.”
Natasha pulled back and smiled. “Now come on! I wanna see the beach!” |
7ef3b1f8dbb0438a98fc31e267399fe3 | ['ea1b83670dba44428cb18966936320ab'] | Jyn nodded. The class ended and she walked over to the stage room and met up with Bodhi who was already in the seat practicing today’s piece as Leia and Luke crowded him. The danish woman had noticed how much the blue eyed blonde stared at her best friend and she was aiming to tease him daily about it. Not with both present, since she wasn’t that of a bad friend. She took her seat and began preparing her violin, when she saw Cassian and Kay running towards the stage short breathed. Shara and Kes walked over them and the four began to talk about something that made the violinist curious. Leia, sporting buns once again, noticed her interest.
“The four of them go way back. I think they were even in the adoption center together and then lived in the same neighborhood without knowing until later. They’re probably preparing their next quartet piece.”
“Quartet?” now that was something interesting for her.
“Yeah. They do the best quartets ever! Each year they prepare new ones and have won prizes in the competitions they have participated!” sunny joyous Luke answered with a bright smile.
“Hmm…”
The four people that were previously huddled separated when Chirrut entered with grins for everybody and cane flinging around as he talked about his latest adventure. He loved coming over with stories of his life and to tell the truth, they were very interesting. Most of those stories were about how he tricked people with his blindness. He got to his seat and with his baton that the black haired older man took out from his sleeve, and began conducting the piece that was in the stand, Hopak, Joanne Martin’s arrangement.
Quick tremolos started the song for the string section, as the winds picked into the melody of the song. After various compasses of tremolos, the strings started on the symphony, starting with the first violins and second violins doing the deeper voice. Cellos and violas gave a different sound to it, but just lovely, since it was what gave the hidden emotions to the voice, like what you can feel when someone is narrating, which in this case, it was the first violins. It was how Jyn associated the music. First violins spoke, second violin gave a message, and cello and violas transmitted the feeling as the winds beautified everything. It didn’t always work so, but it was the case of the one they were playing this time. Smiling, the danish woman played, feeling a warmth as she poured her feelings towards it. Small glance to Bodhi she saw he was the same, less nervous neither anxious, and Cassian and Kay were so concentrated, with their lips tied and closed eyes. Kes, who sat opposite to the first violins with his partners, was with a wide grin, playing the cello, and his girlfriend Shara was with a serious expression, giving off all her emotions, just as Jyn did.
“Alright! I can almost say you are all ready for the concert! So now, I will take by separate groups. Winds, you guys are first.” the professor spoke once they finished playing, and he walked, passing the strings, and towards the the clarinets. “Now, play, I want to hear some details that we need to help.” he said with a smile.
Jyn watched as the bassoons, clarinets, flutes, trumpets and horns played, but she was getting bored slightly so she opted to whisper with Bodhi about trivial things, he had asked her about languages, and so she was teaching him portuguese, which he had wanted to learn after knowing his mother tongue and english. A movement caught her sight, and she looked up, to see Kes waving his bow and looking at someone from first violins. She followed his gaze and caught Cassian raising his eyes to his best friend. A smirk formed in the mexican’s lips (and Jyn was wondering how cute those lips looked to later think it was a weird thought) and the man began doing hand gestures. She looked at the puertorrican, and noticed the man was also giving hand signatures back. It was like the latinos had a secret conversation. Then, Shara began communicating with them, with those brute signs, to which Kay, _ Kay _ the british proper man, answered back the same way but with new ones. Jyn was amazed at this, how the four were speaking from afar with those movements and expressions in their faces. Kay was the least expressive, but she just concluded that the latinos were the most expressive given their rich culture that she was beginning to like as she learnt from her fellow colleagues.
The brazilian woman noticed Jyn staring, and with a smirk, she pointed at the danish woman, and with her two arms a confusion of movements, to later make a heart with her hands, above her chest, and then with her right, pointed her index finger upwards, and made a twirl. _ “You everything love this?” _ . That’s what Jyn concluded. The green eyed woman, not knowing, she passed the bow to her left hand were her violin was located, and signaled with her right arm, bending the elbow and taking the right hand towards the shoulder, but making the palm facing upwards, stretching the fingers out, and gave it a little shake. _ ‘What?’ _
Shara tried something new. She once again pointed to Jyn, then made the heart again, finally moved the arm give a slight circle with her index finger pointing upwards, and smiled. “You like this/us?” | f24ff42c478b442aa4622d3bbe14e2f9 | ['ea1b83670dba44428cb18966936320ab'] | They both dropped their bags and went out to grab a bite in a quaint coffee place, before going over to the copacabana beach, deciding Jyn to visit the Ipanema beach the next day for scouting and him to meet with their expedition planner. She wore her two piece suit under her shift dress, and he took his swim shorts with him to change in a changing room. They lay on the sand with their shades, their casualness throwing the suspicions of the men trailing them. After a few hours, Jyn and Cassian went over to their hotel, and began searching for bugs, while speaking sultry to each other, a technique that both left them frustrated, but a job done. In a few minutes, Bodhi called.
“How’s the room?” as if he worked there.
“Debugged.” Jyn quipped from the single king bed.
“Good. Kay informed me of the tailers. Dealt?”
Cassian nodded,
“Very good, yes. Well, take today off. Tomorrow, early morning. It’ll be a long day. There isn’t going to be a problem with the bed right?” he finished asking, but with a tone of doubt.
The coworkers looked at each other, eyes hiding the truth, and shook their heads.
“Alright, well, We’ll be talking tomorrow. Night to both.” he finished and hung up, Jyn placing the phone back in it's base by the bed. She glanced at her tall coworker, who was currently preparing a bed at the sofa. She scoffed.
“Andor, we have shared a bed before. This won't be the last time either.”
“... I would at least try to keep decency. You know I will always prepare the sofa for bed.”
“And I will keep inviting. You're a respectful man, so come.” she patted besides her. “Bed is big enough for even Malbus and Îmwe to get here.”
He smiled, “doesn't mean it will support us. But will be joining you shortly.”
Cassian went into the fresher, and Jyn had to hold her mind from imagining whatever he was doing there, lest she had to bring her hands to herself. The german born woman didn't know how long she could contain her feelings and heat. She turned to her side and tried as she might to fall asleep, hoping that the next day would be filled with the action she desperately craves.
2. itsy bitsy teenie weenie yellow polka-dot bikini
Cassian and Jyn woke up in their shared bed with pillows that had been between them thrown out, and holding each other. It wasn’t the first time that has happened, finding themselves tangled together, but as a way of the job, they prefered to not address it, and continue during the way as if nothing had ever happened. They got out of it, rearranged the pillows, and proceeded to change quickly and away from each other before continuing with their program. The mexican and the german born danish had to take for walk, while pursuing their main suspect, a supposed nazi man whom stayed at the local beach. After the quick silent breakfast, and having gone over their covers, they dressed up as their characters, she, as Jutta Silva, ex mechanic (“not so far off there” she scoffed going over details with Bodhi) married to Carlos Silva, a botanist, wanting to go back to Brazil to show his newly wedded wife his country. Having no family left, they had decided to stay in a hotel, and take an excursion to the mountains in the next two days.
But for now, they had to first find their suspect, a german born man that went as Adriano Costa, for his safety. Currently, he lived in a house close to the beach, and so he had been spotted around the Ipanema beach, even with how crowded it got and supposedly hid him. Bodhi had drilled with them the plans, calling them in the morning. To avoid suspicion, it was in a matter as of a wrong number, but proceeded with talking as if it were a normal accidental call, presenting himself and asking about them. Jyn answered while putting on her earrings and talked animatedly even with her annoyed face, making Cassian actually contain a chuckle, at the sight of his partner frazzled. He finished getting his shoes on, and calling her from the door. She hung up and picked her favorite white sunglasses before running to follow the man.
Walking over by the beach, the couple gave off the vibe of tourists, even when searching for their man. Once at the beach, and locating close to where Kay had messaged the man lived. Cassian and Jyn got over at the sand, and having taken as if a settlement in a spot, Jyn took off her white A-line dress, and revealed her yellow polka dot bikini, and Cassian removed his clothing to stay in his short trunks. Jyn was one that had difficulty trying to keep her eyes away from her coworker, even if she had seen him shirtless countless times before ‘Just not basically pantless…’ she thought as he laid on his blanket, and offered her a bottle of water to drink, making perfect eye contact and smiling, playing his part perfectly.
“I’m surprised, at how much you trust me.” he grinned.
“We have worked various cases already. Pretty sure it had to come at one point.” she backed up, taking the bottle and resting besides him over the sheet on top of the sand. She brought her german strong accent into her speaking, mostly to call the attention of their suspect.
“I have worked cases with partners that last years, and the level of trust isn’t like the one we have.” he mentioned, now sprawling himself crossing his arms behind his head, sunglasses covering his eyes.
“Well… our first case together was personal.. And…” she stopped, hiding her sight behind her shades. “ _ Bärchen, _ I believe we are being watched…” she finished with a smile, full character. |
1bbedcf576124adf82aad3e8f1bde933 | ['ea359480bb0044bab7ddbcdab2dd48a9'] | “Yeah, I do,” Adam says, pushing himself off the wall by his shoulderblades and lurking after Aziraphale, following him through the stacks. That’s one thing about his heritage he’s never been able to shake - the ability to _ lurk _ as even Duke Hastur of Hell would have been hard pressed to beat. Comes with the territory, right?
“Aziraphale,” comes the other voice, Crowley, “Come _ back. _ I don’t know what - oh.”
“We have company, dear,” Aziraphale says delicately.
“I can see that, I’m not blind,” Crowley’s eyes are free of sunglasses, and his yellow snakelike pupils sum Adam up in the blink of an eye. _ Of course, _ Adam thinks, and kicks himself for not realising before, _ Why would he wear sunglasses? This is the other one. The angel one. He only has to hide them for humans. _
“I’ll put the kettle on,” Aziraphale puts his hands on Adam’s shoulders, and presses him into a chair, “You sit down and tell us all the news.”
The back room of the bookshop is basically a kitchenette, but soaked in books and years and unchanging knowingness, like the very room itself has moulded around the angel and the demon that live there. Adam looks around, from the Bible and the Qu’ran stacked on top of each other next to the sink, heavily bookmarked, to the fridge magnets behind Crowley’s shoulder, which smell out _ get milk _ and _ vampire pus, _ among other things. “Nice place you have here,” he says.
Crowley sags against his folded arms, all the guard leaking out of him like a popped balloon. “The way he keeps it, you’d think he _ wants _ it to fall down,” he says. “I’m forever chasing cobwebs out of corners. Those bloody spiders.”
And everywhere Adam looks, there are plants, perched on every available surface. Springing, wide green leaves, like hat-brims on stalks, bouncing full of life across the pages of open books.
It’s easy to guess which one of them brings which.
“How have you two been getting on,” he asks, leaning back in his chair and watching Aziraphale at the tea. Three cups, two without sugar, one with two spoonfuls.
“Oh, good, good,” Aziraphale slides the sugary tea in front of Crowley, and as his hand draws through the air it presses lightly against the demon’s shoulder. “Can’t complain. Been a bit of bother in America recently, of course, and we’re only just back from our holidays. Took a few weeks in Vienna, take in the art, literature…”
“Music,” Crowley cuts in, and laughs at Aziraphale when he makes a face. An in-joke. “Just… carrying on. How are you, Adam? I doubt you’ve come here just to catch up.”
“Not really,” Adam says. He should have known they’d catch him before the ruse was even properly begun. “I have a date I’d like you to keep free, actually, if ever you could.”
When he slides the printouts over the table, still hot from where Edie handed them to him, Aziraphale claps his hands and Crowley stares, a faint smile on his lips. “A wedding,” the angel says. “A spring wedding! Oh, we’ll certainly keep that one free, dear. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“A wedding,” Crowley says. “Stunning. Who's the lucky lady?”
“She's called Edie,” Adam relaxes, settling into talk about his favourite subject in the world, “She's from Leeds, and she does art, and…” he trials off, realising he was about to say a childish _ and I love her very much. _ “She's amazing.”
“Young love,” Aziraphale beams. “Drink up your tea, young man. We'll get Crowley into polite society, yet.”
Crowley looks up at the angel and without the sunglasses hiding his eyes, Adam can see the love in them.
(And he thinks, if those two have been able to keep this up for six thousand years, he and Edie can definitely see themselves happy for a lifetime.)
“So they agreed, then?”
Edie’s driving, and Adam is sorting invitations into envelopes on the passenger’s seat, his fingertips all sticky with wax from the cheap stationers paper. “Of course they did,” he says, licking a papercut. “Those two are the soppiest men I’ve ever known in my life. They wouldn’t miss a wedding for the world.”
“I can’t wait to meet them,” she says. Her dark hand changes gears, and the engagement ring there sparkles; cut glass, made to look like diamond so expertly that only he and she would ever know it wasn’t. “They must be important to you.”
“I thought they weren’t,” Adam says, staring out at the flash of passing headlights, “But every time something important happens to me, they’re there. Like a pair of magpies.”
“Two for joy,” Edie says, and turns in the road to home.
And at the ceremony, nobody remarked - loudly, anyway - about the man in the dark suit and sunglasses, trying not to cry, and the man in the grey suit and very loud tie, dabbing at his friend’s - his - companion’s - cheeks with a handkerchief.
And at the party, nobody saw them when they darted away for a snatched moment alone in the rose garden.
Eden, like most things, is a cyclical concept, after all.
**Author's Note:**
> my twitter is @sweetlyblue ! | 42cf3abdd7d14797a5c0414dac761ed8 | ['ea359480bb0044bab7ddbcdab2dd48a9'] |
eden
**Author's Note:**
> im too excited about the show to hold it in. i rly hope it brings more people to the book and the fandom! in the meantime, here's my lil homage to everyones favourite immortal old men in love
It was a lovely wedding - everyone who attended agreed on that. The bride looked radiant and the groom only looked a little hungover, and mostly besotted, and the priest didn't doze off during the vows and nobody showed up wearing white.
The subject that people got a little muddled on were the two men - no, the couple - no, they were definitely just friends - oh _ no, _ I thought they hated each other - the two men, both dressed in suits quietly oozing expense, both aged between thirty and sixty, who sat at the back during the service and kept the groom's ear all through the boozy reception. Who were they?
When planning the guests, Adam let Edie do most of the picking and choosing. He just has his sister and his parents and the three of Them, who've grown up in most the same way he has (which is to say, not at all), and apart from that he hasn't got many people he's all that excited about inviting. Adam's always believed in quality over quantity, and anyway, Edie has a whole ocean of cousins that all need invitations. Adam just wants to get married.
“Anyone else,” Edie taps her pen against her dark lips, “Last call, babe. I'm going to the printers tomorrow.”
And Adam thinks of the pair of them, a little area of his mind he prefers to leave covered and cobwebby. “I suppose my godfathers,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “I haven't seen them since I graduated. It’d be nice.”
“Give them a chance to get out of the house, I suppose,” Edie puts pen to paper. “Names? Addresses? I don't think I heard you mention them before.”
“I'll deliver the invites, I think. When you're at the printers I'll pop round and see if they're at home.”
Edie brushes her long black hair from her face and smiles at him, and Adam remembers why he fell in love with her. She kisses him very softly on the forehead, and swishes past him to flick the kettle on. “You try and remember where they live, and I'll make the tea.”
Adam never forgot where they lived, although he isn't sure why he learned in the first place. All the - bother - happened in Tadfield, for him at least, and all the two of them did was come to him and yell a bit. (And fight an angel and a Metaton and some sundries, but that's all in the details.)
The bookshop is in London, one of those tiny little shops that open out onto itself, like the wardrobe in Kirk’s country mansion, or like the Doctor’s box. Adam went to Cambridge to read English, and he practically lived in these places, spending half his time flirting with whichever undergrad first-year was on the other side of the bookshelf, and the other half of his time reading first edition Dickens. Like a prick. They’re his favourite places.
Oh, the _ smell. _ Adam looks at the sign, telling him the place is closed, and considers it for half a second before deciding it doesn’t apply to him. The opening hours here are weird anyway, like on Fridays, where fussy handwriting on a post-it tells him the shop opens at two in the morning and closes again at five. The door sticks a little on a heap of dust and a book being used as a draft excluder, and he wonders at the disrespect done to it before he sees what it is. _ Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone - _ well, okay, there could be worse things down there gathering dust.
“Hello?” He calls, into the airy, dusty interior. He can’t see bookshelves, just books. He can’t see _ any _ furniture for books, in fact, not even windows, although the light that suffuses the entire place has to be coming from somewhere. Dust careens and cartwheels through the air, dancing disturbed when he flaps his hands through the worst of it. “Hello? Uh…. hey?”
He remembers their names, of course. Aziraphale and Crowley, one a mere agent of hell and one an actual Principality, although in his memory the two have blurred so much that he can’t remember which was which. They both seemed pretty human to him, at the time.
“The shop is closed,” comes an irritable voice from the back of the shop, “Can’t you _ read? _ Otherwise why would you even visit a place like this… I should invest in a lock…” the voice deteriorates into irritated mumbling, and Adam leans against a nearby wall, waiting for something to happen to him.
“Who _ is _ it, angel?” Another voice, from the back. A little deeper, and not coming any closer.
Aziraphale, the tubbyish one with the dainty hands and the dress sense of a posh grandfather, pops his head around a bookcase, and his face turns from mild irritation through to shock through to a sort of pleased bewilderment, all in the space of a moment or two. He smooths a hand over his breast pocket, and then pops it into the pocket of his trousers, as his expression settles on ‘happy but confused’ to face Adam. “Young man! I haven’t seen you in quite some time. A year? Two?”
“Five,” Adam says, grinning a little at how shocked the man looks, “Since my graduation, remember? Cambridge, oh-six? You brought the missus.”
“Oh,” Aziraphale’s eyes dart back towards where he’s come from, “Oh you _ must _ come and have a cup of tea. We haven’t seen you in so long, and I’m sure you’ve got plenty of news.” |
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