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44708b11e7e74c299bb36349c4da67aa | ['f9d5f63b1593405aa2f6eda06e1cca46'] | Mac took hold of the skirt and held it in front of her. “I think so!”
Chandler just let out a sigh, having lost interest in the topic at hand. “I’m going to pay for these.” She pointed to the clothes being held by Veronica. “We’ll meet you outside.”
“Alright, see you in a bit,” Mac said, offering a smile at her. Chandler then lead Veronica to the cashier and paid for the lot. It came down to quite a large amount, but she didn’t really care. She had money to spend. It was going to be spent at some point, so why not now?
The then walked outside the store, where they stood in silence for a moment, before Veronica spoke up.
“Oh, wait, wasn’t I gonna change into the shirt and blazer?” she asked. Chandler glanced at her, before giving a groan.
“Goddammit.” She looked back into the store and frowned. She wasn’t in the mood for walking all the way to the back again, especially with the risk of _that_ happening again. She glanced at her surroundings, and in the same store, she saw a photo booth sitting right next to the window. “Just get changed in there instead.” She lead her back into the store and waited by the booth. “And be quick.”
As Veronica moved past her, she caught a mischievous glint in her eye.
“Sorry I wasn’t quick enough before,” she whispered, holding a smirk on her lips, before she slipped into the booth, leaving Chandler outside, alone in trying to hide the heat developing on her cheeks.
_You fucking better be,_ she very nearly snapped back, but decided against it.
Though, as she stared at the small curtain, she wondered if she could get away with continuing what was unfinished.
_No,_ she told herself. _That’s even more risky._ She caught sight of Heather and Heather lurking in the aisles of clothing. _Far too risky._
She let out a sigh. This _entire thing_ was risky as all hell. How the fuck did she end up in this dumbass situation?
“Okay, done!” she heard Veronica call from the booth. She snapped her head towards the curtain.
“Then come out.”
Veronica did peep her head out, though she remained inside.
“Are Heather and Heather done yet?”
Heather shook her head slowly.
Veronica smiled. “Wanna come in here and have some fun?”
Heather was sure her breathing stopped for a moment, and she widened her eyes.
“‘Ronica, are you fucking dense? We’re practically out in the-”
“No, no, not _that_ ,” Veronica cut her off. “As fun as that sounds.” She grinned alluringly and winked. Heather was sure her whole body caught on fire.
Jesus Christ, she thought Veronica was an innocent virgin about a week ago. What the fuck happened?
_I happened_.
“I mean, wanna use the photo booth?” Veronica clarified, smiling hopefully at her. “Saves us from standing around doing jack shit.”
Heather gave a thoughtful look at the booth, considering the idea.
And suddenly she was reminded of those photos she had seen in Mac’s locker earlier, and she wondered if having a similar addition to her own locker would be a good idea.
_Why not,_ she thought, shrugging. _If I can have a photo of Duke in my locker, having Veronica in my locker only seems fair._
She stepped into the booth and sat down on the ever-so-narrow seat been given to them, Veronica doing the same. She cursed how small the booth was - it was warm, closed in, and practically _forced_ her to press up against Veronica.
Ugh. Why was she so warm. And soft. And _ugh_.
To distract herself from the brunette brushing her shoulder against her own, she reached into her bag to grab her purse and take out the money necessary for the booth to be used.
“Paying again?” Veronica batted her lashes at her. “So many benefits to having three rich friends.”
“Tch.” Heather rolled her eyes, before leaning forward to insert the cash. The booth was ready for use, and Heather leaned back into her chair and looked straight at the lense. From the corner of her eye, she saw Veronica do the same.
She kept a straight, cool expression as the first photo was taken, and once it was, she heard Veronica stifle a snicker.
“God, so serious,” she said, quirking a brow at her. Heather blinked at her.
“I want to look presentable.”
“So you _frown_?” Veronica gave her a questionable look, while still grinning. Heather pursed her lips as she continued to speak. “I don’t see the harm in smiling for the camera.”
She considered ignoring her. Just giving her an eye roll and going back to her usual stoic pose. But then,
“You have a nice smile, Heather. You should use it.”
She was helpless in stopping the smile growing on her lips, and once she was, the picture was taken.
Fuck Veronica and _fuck_ her compliments and _fuck_ her for causing some stupid warm, fluttery feeling in her chest when she _giggled_ that _stupid laugh that was insanely contagious and cute and_ -
“Fuck you,” she muttered, going back to her usual expression.
“I already tried.”
_GODDAMMIT._
“Here, I’ll do an impression of you in the next one,” she said, the corners of her mouth dropping into a deep frown.
“An exaggeration,” Heather commented dryly, staring at the lense.
“I disagree.”
_Fuck_ Veronica and her dry wit. She’s like Heather Duke if Heather Duke was funny. Or fun to be around.
She hardly noticed the next photo being taken. | 209900760761405f93dc737c7a76d39d | ['f9d5f63b1593405aa2f6eda06e1cca46'] | Duke arched a brow. “How many times have I had to go over text extracts in English with you because you were lost in a daydream.”
Chandler shrugged. “Is it my fault that those text extracts are boring as all hell? No, it isn’t.”
Duke scoffed. “Sounds like _someone_ is making excuses.”
Chandler pouted.
“Sounds like _someone_ is getting irritated that she needs to read the same paragraph for me over and over again.”
“Yeah, you’re completely right.”
Chandler gave an indignant squawk, and Duke just cackled.
“Listen, all I’m glad about is that it’s really helping you pull through English.” She lightly elbowed her. “At this rate, you could get to an advanced class.”
Chandler’s heart warmed at the idea, though if she were to be perfectly honest, she just couldn’t see that happening. Sure, she had two and a half years left of high school, but as if she could get to the top class while being dyslexic.
“Could? Don’t be so hypothetical, geez,” she responded.
She wasn’t about to let Heather catch onto her doubt. Any time she did, it ended in what felt like Heather trying to snap her. Why she did such a thing, she had no idea why, but she hated it. For a while she’d come
up with the theory that she was just trying to pull her back down to her level, for reasons unknown to her. Maybe it was to feel better about herself? She’d had a suspicion of her jealousy ever since that party in freshman year… or maybe it had gone even further back. She always had been pissy about her getting involved with her issues, after all. Maybe she was just desperate to prove herself.
_I mean, I do the same thing, I just happen to be better than her._
“Heather.”
The sound of her name snapped her out of her thoughts, and she looked over to Duke.
“Yeah?”
Duke let out an exasperated sigh. “Okay, _third and last time_ ,” she said as she cleared her throat. Chandler winced in realising she’d missed her reciting the question due to being caught up in her own thoughts, and forced her brain to tune into Duke’s voice, and no one else’s.
“You’re able to partake in a well-known tournament that will definitely get your name out there, however you can only ever partake in it once. You’re able to refuse the offer and work to playing in similar tournaments, and continue to partake in them, but it isn’t a hundred percent certain that it will lead to the same amount of success as the first option. Do you refuse or take the offer?”
Chandler silently repeated to herself everything that Duke said, mouthing each word a second after they were spoken. She repeated the question several times to herself, up until she was able to remember what to say.
“Okay, good,” she said. “Let’s go.” She hardly even thought about what direction she was walking in as she began to make her way down the usual route she took, though Duke grabbing her arm caught her attention.
“We’re not asking this to the country kids, remember?” Duke said. “We’re asking it to the jocks and the cheerleaders.” She gestured to the two vastly different tables sitting in another part of the cafeteria, and Chandler groaned to herself.
“Goddammit,” she muttered as she turned to walk over to them, though she took her sweet time in doing so. “Why couldn’t we have gotten a different question this week?”
Duke shrugged. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”
Chandler scoffed. “I’m not a beggar. They begged _me_ to do lunchtime poll, remember?”
“Yeah, yeah, we’re all very thankful for your sacrifices, Heather.” She huffed. “But enough of that. I’ve been meaning to ask, how’d the party go on Friday?” She glimpsed at her. “Y’know, since it was so important you had to abandon a music session in favour.”
The sudden mention of last Friday made Chandler’s breathing hitch. That night had been on her mind ever since - she didn’t need to be reminded again.
“I, uh-” She glanced forward, and saw they were already closing on the first table - jocks. Always a pleasure. “I’ll tell you later, we have a job to do.” She internally sighed with relief. She really didn’t want to discuss that right now.
“Hello, boys,” she greeted, stopping at the head of their table. The sophomores looked up at her, curious, but seemingly intrigued. Hopefully she could keep their attention for more than thirty seconds. “Sorry to interrupt, but we have a question for you.”
“Is it about how much pussy I get a week?” one of them said. The rest of laughed. Chandler and Duke just shared an unamused look.
“No, because the answer wouldn’t be worth recording since it would be so small,” Chandler retorted. Everyone on the table laughed, apart from the victim of the joke. That was fine.
“What it _is_ about is this,” she then said, before repeating the question to the best of her ability. Granted, with knowing what it actually said, as well as having an excuse to read it out loud, it was much more easier for her eyes to follow along.
“Alright, give me your answers,” she commanded, pen at the ready in her hand. In the short time it took for any of them to speak, she tapped her fingers over the pen impatiently. “Come on, I don’t like being kept waiting.”
She noticed one of them lean into another’s ear and whisper something she couldn’t hear, though she couldn’t help but grow curious when the other laughed at whatever was said.
“Something funny?” she questioned, arching a brow and straightening herself up to seem taller. A knee-jerk reaction whenever she spoke to people who she saw as threats. The two of them looked back over to her and laughed again. |
8406160ebe2e4584b2f4e0bf03814990 | ['f9d8991b2a2949c1b1b8502973b68bcf'] | He’s gonna drown down here instead, a lonely death, halved in two. Homer’ll take the pieces of his heart and go give them to someone else, maybe -- some other grown-up exploring boy who’ll promise him adventure and maybe even be able to deliver (but that’s not true, is it, they’ve had adventures as wild and wide as from here to the moon, just the two of them), or maybe he’ll settle down with some young Elsie from the country, a quiet reliable girl who can raise a family of boys he’ll name after Floyd, and maybe the damn Croghans’ll take over the Crystal Cave and the Sand Cave and the salt mines and the tourists and all, and they’ll never know, any of them, never know, just like he’ll never know glory down here silenced in the bowels of the earth.
But that’s not true, is it. They’ve known glory together, the two of them. They’ve swum and dove and caved and explored and discovered and tooled and fucked, oh, yeah, they’ve fucked and lusted and gotten their hands dirty and all over each other. They’ve made these caves sing, the two of them.
He’s going to die down here. But he’s not going to die quiet.
He hasn’t used his vocal chords in days. There are hours -- if that -- left. The hallucinations have already come and gone; he’s done with that false blessing.
It takes him a bit of practicing to get the sound out, and his lungs screech from the effort. He never knew how much energy it took just to make noise -- that he’d take back every meaningless whoop and shout and holler if it meant he had the voice now when he needs it the most.
He manages, eventually -- first a raspy squeak, and then another, and then he digs down around inside him for one final yell, one final call down into that massive cave, and his lungs scream in agony but they fill up with air, and he shouts:
“I love you, Homer Collins! You hear that? I love you, all right!”
And the sound travels out into the tunnel, away and down into the cave.
He thinks maybe he hears an echo.
It’s enough. | ae70c4715d7e49b7887ca3629c1e91d2 | ['f9d8991b2a2949c1b1b8502973b68bcf'] | "Yes, my Moontoone," Sunshine would reply softly, shifting his balance over the flappable gravelite as they crossed the Teeterstopple Bridge. "And you can sit in your sewing chair and I'll make you a slo-pot of tea."
And Moontoone would hum and squeeze Sunshine's hand and bolster himself with thoughts of the new hat pattern he would make when they were finally safely home: a cloché, perhaps, or a fez.
**3\. from Alphabet to Impossible**
It was Sunshine who collected the magazines and cut out the pictures at the beginning, and Sunshine who had made up the stories, but Moontoone had been eager to help. Initially this was what had brought them together—they would tell each other stories well into the night while the others slept, whispering to one another until the flickering candles in their soupcones sputtered and slid into waxy memories. The day Sunshine invited him to help him look through the clippings and magazines he had gathered was the happiest in his life.
Moontoone had begun to be concerned that Sunshine was running out of room in his locket for their tales of lovers eternally united; and sure enough, one day Sunshine went to collect the latest—a passionate, beautiful romance between an escaped convict and a Victorian woodsprite that they had pieced together from an old newspaper and a home and garden magazine—but it would not close.
He tried blowing on it; he tried spitting on the springs; he tried thumping the back to make it go; he tried turning it off and then back on again. It would not do: the locket remained stuffed with all the clippings of love stories of the past, and it had reached its final anecdote.
Moontoone tried very hard not to panic. He had particularly wanted Sunshine to carry this story with him, near his heart, so that Moontoone could think about it on his delivery rounds that day. They had already decided that the escaped convict was named Pilichett, and that he was secretly a cherub whose wings appeared when he was very eager, and that the woodsprite was named Ruby and had an evil godparent who would unsuccessfully try to lure him into betraying Ruby, only it would not work because Pilichett and Ruby were in love.
It was not true that Moontoone didn't enjoy his deliveries, precisely. But when he enjoyed them most, it was because he could think about the stories in Sunshine's locket. Tonight he had thought it was to be the games the convict and the woodsprite would play in the forest, and by the lake, and the thrilling adventure they would have while trying to cross the twilling spray in the Doll Drums as the centaur stamped her hooves angrily on the timpany shore. But none of that would suit if the locket would not shut.
Sunshine frowned. Moontoone knew he was frowning because he knew Moontoone was panicking and he worried about Moontoone. He gave the locket a quick press with his thumb, hoping to push the woodsprite in once and for all. Instead he caught the sheaf of papers already wedged inside and unlodged them, and the locket itself snapped in two.
The clippings fluttered to the bedspread, instantly all a-shambled and out of order, and Moontoone gasped. "Oh, no! Oh, dear."
Sunshine looked up and smiled at him, his best smile, one Moontoone knew he saved just for him. It was a smile that told Moontoone he should never worry or be afraid of anything, and it was terrifying.
"Don't fret, my Moontoone," he said. "We have more than enough time to fix it. The locket is easy to glue back together."
"But what shall we do with all the stories?" Moontoone said before he could help himself. He knew that he sounded a little feeble, and that his voice was wobbly, but this was a serious affair, and Sunshine's smile said that he knew that, too. "What if I need a Take Heart story? Or a Be Bold, But Wary story?"
"Well," said Sunshine, considering, "You'll still have all of the old stories. I have kept them next to me for so long they are still there. Which means you still have them, too."
Moontoone tried to take a deep breath, but he did not do it very well, so he took another. "Where will you keep them?" he asked.
Sunshine considered. "No better place than in the arc aid box," he said at last, drawing it out and emptying it of the spare change he kept there. It was a small wooden thing inlaid with copper filigrann, and when he lifted the lid and scooped up all of the clippings, they fit ever so nicely inside it with plenty of room to spare. Moontoone's cloud of uncertainty lifted briefly—but only for an instant.
"But," he said, "You haven't had time to get to know Pilichett and Ruby. What if you forget about them and they don't make it across the Doll Drums?"
Sunshine said encouragingly, "Then they will build a fort to keep away the evil centaur, and after we fix the locket tonight, they will try again tomorrow."
"Will that really work?"
"Yes, I think so."
Moontoone tried to think of a tough story, but his worries flurried around him. "What if I have to deliver to the Tower and they haven't made it across?"
Sunshine's smile didn't fade, not for a moment. "It's all right, my Moontoone," he said. "I don't think you'll have to deliver to the Tower tonight."
"Delivery to the Tower!" barked Salton, the quimmy frier at Wallinton's Kitchen, dropping a giant order number into Moontoone's lap.
"Oh!" said Moontoone. "Are you sure you double-checked the address?"
"Yep," said Salton. "Humming Tower, Wing A, Unit 2731."
"Are you sure it's in our delivery area?"
"Was last week," said Salton.
"Perhaps it's moved," said Moontoone.
"Moontoone!" said the head chef. "Don't waste time, must be off, snop-snip!" |
9ca6d205868848c59bb86403838dc616 | ['f9e8442644bf4dd8bb6813b5997f5cb6'] | "Fuck..." Katsuki muttered, after all the adrenaline left his body, he was left in an extreme amount of pain. His head was pounding, nearly every muscle was aching, his arms and hands were burning and his leg, holy fuck, his leg. It was throbbing. The skin surrounding the fracture was covered in bluish, purple bruises and grossly swollen. He knew that fucking Muscular bastard snapped his tibia in two when his stomped on him. Fucker. It wasn't the worst pain he's ever experienced during his Hero career, but damn some medical attention would be pretty nice right about now.
"Bakugou, take off your shirt." Kouta said, still laying his head on Katsuki's stomach. He had finally calmed down when everything was said and done. "I'll use it to clean your face. It's covered in blood."
"No problem." Katsuki slipped it off without protest. He actually forgot there was blood on his face, after going through so many battles you just get used to the feeling. Kouta sat up as he took the shirt in one hand and then shot water with his other hand to soak the shirt.
"Holy shit. You have a Quirk?" Katsuki asked in surprise, causing Deku to snicker a little and Kouta to roll his eyes. "All this time...I thought you were Quirkless."
"Yeah, I have a Quirk." Kouta began to wipe down Katsuki's face as gently as possible. The feeling of cool water on his skin felt amazing."I just don't like to use it, dummy."
"Thank you for using it now." Katsuki smirked, "You're the real MVP, Kouta."
"Whatever." The munchkin's cheeks started to blush. He turned away as soon as he was done with Katsuki and moved on to clean off Deku's bloody face. "So what are we gonna do now?"
"That's a good question." Katsuki turned to Deku to assess the severity of his wounds. His arm was broken, his back was injured and he was probably suffering from a bit of head trauma after slamming into the mountainside. Then he shifted his glance to the villian. Muscular was completely unconscious; he wasn't going to wake up anytime soon. After all, he was hit with a direct super-hot Howitzer Impact, but Katsuki didn't feel comfortable leaving the Midoriyas here with that insane serial killer.
"Kouta…" He groaned, he really didn't want to have to ask this. "You're gonna have to go to the campsite and get the others for help."
"What? No!" Kouta shook his head, "I'm not leaving Zuzu here."
"I know, kid, but I can't move." He gestured towards his swollen leg. "My leg is broken and I don't want to move your dad. His back is fucked up."
"B-But...he's still there." Kouta pointed to Muscular. "What if he...?"
"He's not gonna wake up, I can assure you that." Katsuki put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I need you to be brave, Kouta. I promise, I'll keep Deku safe. I won't let anything happen to him."
"Kouta.." Deku cooed as he brushed Kouta's cheek with his thumb. "We'll be waitin' fo' you to get back wiff help."
"Okay...I'll go. You better keep your promise, Bakugou." Kouta stood up, hugged both of them and quickly ran off down the trail to the campsite.
"Deku, can you hear me?" Katsuki asked as he signed. Thankfully, Deku nodded his head a little, so he continued. "Can you tell me what hurts?"
Deku couldn't sign properly due to his arm, so he fingerspelled his answers. "_L-E-F-T A-R-M, H-E-A-D-A-C-H-E, B-A-C-K, S-T-O-M-A-C-H._"
"Do you feel sleepy?"
Deku nodded his head. Shit. He might have a concussion. It's too dark to check his pupils, so Katsuki will just have to go with the worst case scenario. "Stay with me, Deku. Don't fall asleep. Okay? Keep talking to me."
"Okay, Kacchan." He shifted a bit to sit up straighter against the mountainside, causing him to wince. " I don' think I can aneeway. My back hurtz too much."
"I don't want to take that chance." Katsuki scooted closer to Deku to place the back of his hand on his forehead. "You're burning up, Deku."
"Yeah…" He whined, he coughed a bit before spitting on the ground next to him. "I think we mite haff to cut thiz trip short."
"Are you sure?" He couldn't help playing with Deku's green curls, being careful to not tangle his fingers and hurt him. Some sections were surprisingly soft, while other sections were hardened from dried blood. "I think we could make a wheelchair out of some sticks and rocks or some shit."
"Kacchaaan…" Izuku said attempting to sound annoyed, but he giggled softly afterwards. He tilted his head towards Katsuki's touch with a content sigh, "Zo zillie."
"Katsuki! Midoriya!" That sounded like Shitty Hair calling for them. Katsuki looked up and saw his brother with Kouta on his back, along with the rest of the crew, except for Dunce Face. Kirishima looked very panicked as he kneeled down in front of him, "Bro! Kouta told us what happened. Denki already sent a message to the police and paramedics. They'll be here in twenty."
"Katsuki, was Midoriya already injured when you fought Muscular?" Mina asked as she pulled out a small eyelight from large first aid kit that was strapped around her waist. She sat down next to her husband, in front of Deku and lifted his chin. "Midoriya, sweetie, I'm just gonna shine this light really quick to check your pupils."
"M'kay."
"Yeah, he protected Kouta from that bastard before I showed up. He told me his back hurts alot, so don't move him." Katsuki called out to Sero, who was tying up Muscular with his Quirk. "Hanta! What's the status on the villian?!"
"Still knocked out, but he's breathing. You did a real number on him, man. I think he has second degree burns on his face and upper chest area!" | 0762f5186e134d5a90bf13fe0d0313c8 | ['f9e8442644bf4dd8bb6813b5997f5cb6'] | The early morning was warm. The sky was various colors of blues, yellows and pinks as the sun was rising. Katsuki had walked from his apartment all the way to the bridge. Very few cars were passing by and no one was around to stop him. This was a good sign. He looked over the bars separating him from the lush blue waters of the river.
Would it be morbid to say that it felt inviting? If he jumped now, all of the pain, the guilt, the thoughts that plagued his mind for so long would disappear. Katsuki was never afraid to die. He always told himself he would keep fighting the way he wanted to till the very end. Now there wasn't much fight left in himself. In fact, as looked over the horizon, he didn't feel anything. He couldn't even say he felt empty. He just felt...ready. He closed his eyes and gripped the cold metal bars with his calloused hands.
_"Okay, everyone! Settle down! Go back to your desks!" The kindergarten teacher called, "We have a new student!" _
_Katsuki and the other children sat down, seemingly excited for what was to come. There had been word going around that the new kid was a boy, which was great. He could use a few more lackeys in his Bakugou Hero Agency. The teacher opened the door for the little boy. He was pretty short and his smock looked a few sizes too big. He had chubby, freckled cheeks and his hair was bright green with wild curls. He stood next to the teacher with a nervous smile on his face. _
_"Class, this is Izuku. He's going to be apart our class." The teacher squatted down to the kid's level, "You want to introduce yourself, little man?" _
_This Izuku kid continued to smile, which only confused the class even more. Why wasn't he saying anything? The teacher must of noticed the lingering silence because he tapped his shoulder. Izuku jumped a bit and rolled up his sleeves before pulling out a notebook from his bookbag. He opened it to the first page: _
_ **[It's nice to meet you, my name is Midoriya Izuku and I'm 4 years old.]** _
_The class was in shock. A few murmurs and whispers were heard as they watched him turn to another page._
_ **[I wanna be friends with everyone with this notebook]** _
_ **[So please talk to me with it]** _
_ **[I can't hear well]** _
_"Holy crap!" Katsuki yelled, standing up in his chair. This kid couldn't hear?! How was that even possible? The teacher gave him small smile, "Now, I want Izuku to feel welcome. So let's all be nice to him, okay?" _
_"Okaaaaay!" The class replied._
_The teacher looked delighted, he turned back to Izuku and pointed to Katsuki's table, "You can sit over there with Katsuki." _
_Izuku nodded his head and walked over to him. He pointed to the chair next to him and Katsuki pulled it out for him. "Hey, I'm Katsuki." _
_He waved at him as he gave him the notebook. Katsuki rolled his eyes, but took out a marker from his pencil case to write what he said. _
_ **[My name is Bakugou Katsuki]** _
_Izuku looked at his name with a raised eyebrow, "Bakooogou Katschuski?" _
_"No, dummy. It's Katsuki. Kat-soo-key." He even pointed at his lips to show this weird kid how to pronounce it. _
_"K-Kats...Kat..choo...Kacchan!" The boy looked at him as if he accomplished something. That's not his name! But the teacher said they have to be nice, so Katsuki will let it slide for now. He took the notebook and wrote: _
_ **[You can call me Kacchan]** _
_It wasn't long before other students of his class were pretty interested in Izuku. Everyone in the class wrote their names in his notebook. A couple of them even wanted Izuku to try to pronounce their names. He was certainly the center of attention. At the end of the day, Katsuki saw Izuku standing outside the building, clutching the hem of his smock. He looked scared._
_"Hey, Izuku!" Katsuki called, but he didn't turn around. Oh yeah. He can't hear right. Katsuki ran over and tapped him on his shoulder just like his teacher did. Then pointed to his bookbag, "Gimme your notebook." _
_Izuku pulled out the notebook and a crayon for Katsuki. _
_ **[Are you waiting for your mommy?]** _
_Izuku shook his head as he took the notebook back. _
_ **[I don't know the way home yet.]** _
_"Tch. Dummy." Katsuki snatched the notebook back and rolled his eyes. This kid is so weird. Well, if he goes to this school then that must mean he doesn't live very far. Katsuki could walk him home._
_ **[Do you know your home address?]** _
_Izuku nodded his head and wrote his address under Katsuki's question. Katsuki knew where that was! Those apartments were across the street from the playground._
_ **[I can take you home. Gimme your hand.]** _
_Izuku smiled, "Kacchan's my hero!"
_
"Mom! That'sth my hero! Ground Zero! Ground Zero!"
"What the hell?" Katsuki snapped out of daydream when he heard his Hero name being called. He turned his attention to the owner of the voice. A little boy with wild brown hair had let go of his mother's hand to run up to Katsuki with a Ground Zero themed bookbag on his back. This kid was more than likely no older than five, "I'm your biggesth fan, Ground Zero! I'm stho happy to sthee you!"
"Hey kid." Katsuki squatted down to the boy's level, "How were able to tell it was me?"
"Only true GZ fansth can sthee their heroesth in dithguise." The boy smiled, showing off his large tooth gap. "Can you sthign my backpack, Ground Zero?" |
863cc97402d743d8b3c624de1e2d76b0 | ['f9ed32cedd4d4741affdd7700d178f9b'] | "I'm going back to my hotel," Castiel lies. Back to the hotel after a spin by a liquor store. "To pack."
Ethan nods at him. "Ready to get out of Kansas huh?"
A spot in the dance floor clears, and his eyes land on Dean again. He is smiling at Kara, who is gorgeous and thin with a narrow face and almond eyes like one of those models on the posters in Dean's living room. Castiel forces his eyes back to Ethan. "Yes," he says. "It's been a long day."
Ethan adjusts the knot in his tie and clears his throat.
At the movement, Castiel draws in breath. He knows what Ethan's about to ask him. "I need a hot shower and bed," he says quickly. Ethan isn't another one-night stand. Maybe with everyone else he can fake his way through it, pretend he's okay, but Ethan doesn't deserve that. "I think I've seen enough of the Kansas night life for one trip."
Ethan's easy smile falters, but the next thing he does is touch Castiel on the arm with his hand, giving him a smile as though being nice will stamp out any awkwardness. He holds Castiel's shoulder as he says, "I don't know. I pretty sure we've found the best Lawrence has to offer right here."
_The best Lawrence has to offer._ Castiel tracks the room with his eyes like an automated radar zeroing in on Dean. Finding him amongst the crowd somehow is an effortless task. What isn't effortless, though, is remaining calm when he finds Dean staring back at him this time.
They lock eyes and immediately turn away.
Castiel’s face flushes with heat at being seen. He realizes Ethan's mouth is moving, but he can't hear him over the blood rushing in his ears. "Drink?" he panics. "Let's get a drink."
"Really?" Ethan brightens and steps back to let Castiel lead the way. He laughs with a tiny wrinkle in his brow. "You look like you could use one. Are you okay?"
Castiel knows he's acting weird. "I'm…I'll be fine," he says. As they walk, the crowd parts around them, and he spots a woman with a cellphone snapping a photo. He shuts his eyes, shaking his head. Great, that's exactly what he doesn't need.
They reach the bar, and Ethan observes him in concern. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asks.
Is he okay? Well, let's see. He has feelings for another guy, inappropriate but very real feelings. So no, he isn't okay. The only reason he's still functional is because he knows after tomorrow he won't ever have to see Dean again. Castiel leans against the bar, flagging down the bartender, telling himself he's not about to get drunk over this.
The bartender waits on them quickly, coming back with two glasses of wine because Castiel decided he shouldn't ask for an entire bottle of tequila. He takes a glass, hopeful this will help.
Ethan raises his own in a toast. "To Dean Winchester," he says clinking their glasses. "Together we pulled off a miracle, Cas. Just like always."
Goosebumps shiver over Castiel's arms. He plays off the discomfort with a tight smile but ends up chugging down two nervous gulps of wine because the itchy feeling winding down his spine won't go away. "Just like always," he says and places his glass back on the counter. No more alcohol or tomorrow will be ugly.
"I'm hoping everything works out for him." Ethan sips at his wine as he rests a hip casually against the bar. "He's a nice guy."
In spite of everything Castiel thought this morning. Awful clothes. Bad hair. Overcompensating. Womanizer. His brain nods yes. Past the bravado and the sarcasm, there's an actual person who is as scared and confused about caring for someone as anyone else.
Castiel fights off the weight pressing down on his chest. "Yes. I hope it works out too," he says.
He doesn't look for Dean the rest of the party.
*****
Dean gives his tie a tug and it loosens around his neck. He thumbs the rim of the glass for a second before lifting the shot to his lips and pours the whiskey down his throat savoring the warm burn as it goes in. He places the empty shot down with a thud and thinks of asking the barkeep for another. How did everything get so out of hand today? There’s a reason festering in the back of his mind, but he’s not ready to poke it.
Not yet.
He slides away from the bar, and immediately he notices the crew packing up their cameras and equipment. They are finished for the day. He glances around hoping to find...
He freezes.
Castiel and Ethan are standing across the half-empty banquet hall with Jessica and Sam. Jessica grins from ear to ear as she pulls the hosts down into a big double-hug. When she leans away, she says something that makes Ethan laugh. She steps back and loops her arm through Sam’s, and Ethan casually drops his arm around Castiel’s shoulders. Castiel looks confused for a moment, but then he gives Ethan a small smile.
It’s true then.
Ethan and Castiel are…are what? Back together? It appears that way, and it throws Dean how much the sight angers him. It seemed like earlier that Castiel was over this guy. He doesn’t know why, but he would feel so much better if he didn’t have to look at them being all happy reunited couple. He really doesn’t know why it bothers him so much. | c66a3f6b16d44d8299f4eae4618d4fc3 | ['f9ed32cedd4d4741affdd7700d178f9b'] | “No” is all Castiel answers.
“Oh right," Ian demurs. "I forget mixing a little business with pleasure is crossing the line.”
Castiel makes a mental note of the look Ian gives him. They both know he mixes those two lines more than a little. “We help straight men,” he says.
“What? They're fun.” Ian laughs to himself clearly thinking about tons of fleeting experiences full of confused heterosexuals.
“They’re straight." Castiel hopes that’ll convince Ian not to embarrass himself this time but knows that won’t happen.
“Uh huh. So?” Ian breaks his face from grinning so hard, but a second later, a horrifyingly sympathetic smile takes its place. “See you okay? In a bit." Ian grips his arm in a reassuring squeeze before walking away.
Castiel doesn't bother responding because he sees someone approaching him from out of the corner of his eye. It's only then it dawns on him that he is late, very late. He straightens and attempts to walk with purpose towards wherever he's supposed to be, but since he's late and still hungover, he has no idea exactly where that is. All he knows is that the _Boys Helping Boys_ producers decided it would be fun to do a special wedding episode for the season premiere. That it would be fun to drop two urbanites off in the middle of Kansas, Castiel's guessing to observe what exciting things may happen. It’s Kansas. It isn’t that exciting, not even with him getting wasted last night.
"Castiel!" A frazzled-looking female production assistant calls out his name. "You missed the introductions with the guest."
At the time introductions were scheduled, Castiel was puking over a toilet so he isn't going to apologize or anything. He also doubts she wants him to describe the experience. "I know," he says.
The assistant rolls her eyes at him, likely pegging him as one of those self-obsessed celebrities only around to make her life miserable. "Too late to do anything about it. We are trying to fit in a TV show and a wedding so cooperation today and tomorrow from you would be ideal," she says.
"I understand."
She sighs again as Castiel distractedly pushes his sunglasses up on the top of his head, and they walk up a cobblestone path towards the front door.
He stares longingly at the faded swing bench as they climb the stairs onto the porch. It looks even more comfortable up close like it was put there for him. He pictures himself spending an entire day in this spot. It's quiet here, no roar of city traffic, and he likes this house very much.
As the assistant opens the door for him, she starts to fill him in on his morning. "Scouting is done. A good amount of stores agreed to let us film inside, but obviously inventory is limited out here. You're with the best man before Ethan. No date to his brother’s wedding, trying to meet a girl. Typical single guy story," she says.
It's hard to say whether or not Castiel even hears her, though, because when he steps inside that homey feeling slips away. The inside of the house definitely isn’t picturesque, that much is for sure. Pool table, mismatched furniture, a useless gigantic TV, and posters of woman in skimpy bathing suits. Whoever decorated this place called it a day at teenage boy. The one indication that a grown-up even lives here is a small bookcase in the corner that's currently being blocked by piles of film equipment.
Castiel moves through the foyer and eventually comes to a staircase that leads up to the second floor. It's no wonder this man can't get a date. His house screams overcompensating womanizer. He groans at the thought as he ascends up the stairs.
"You're late!" A voice shouts at him, and someone directs Castiel down a long hallway once he reaches the top step towards a room at the end.
He scopes out the master bedroom as soon as he enters. Two crew members are setting up lights in the corner. On the night stand, he spots a couple books and a faded photo of two guys at a graduation, and beside a big bay window, an old Bon Jovi poster is tacked to the wall. Compared to downstairs, it isn't a travesty but it's nothing to cheer over. The lone cameraman near the door looks extremely frustrated by the talent’s late arrival; however, before Castiel can even ask what’s going on, Julian Taylor saunters up to him.
And it's official.
Today is the worst day of Castiel's life, which includes a list of the day Ethan moved out and the night, two weeks later, that he ended up in bed with Julian. The only reason Julian even has this job is because his daddy owns the production company. Sleeping with him wasn't Castiel's best move ever. He acknowledges his one night stand with a faint smile and one eye on the door, already planning an escape route.
Julian smiles back as if he knows what Castiel is thinking and is amused over the fact that no matter what Castiel thinks of him he's still seen him naked. "Greaaaat…” Julian drags out the word out then gestures beside him. "This is Dean Winchester."
Castiel busies himself, shrugging out of his suit jacket and placing it neatly on the bed, vexed that Julian, while wearing his ridiculous I'm-a-serious-filmmaker beret, just so casually addressed him. He turns around now recognizing that another person has been standing there this entire time, and instantly, like lightning cracking against concrete, something good happens to him.
The first good thing all morning.
Two eyes blink back at him, both a lovely green under this angle of the lights. Pretty eyes is all he thinks. Eyes made for gazing into, eyes that blur out everything else. His heart beats wild against his chest as he stares into them. |
b077f8c2aeb34d57852c5c8add89b044 | ['f9fb67a9d27743ff9d088285275c7c5b'] | Keith just stared at him with interest but he knew how Lance was feeling, well, if they really were in the same situation like Matt said, then he did know how Lance was feeling. He picked up the menu off the table and opened it, looking at all of the choices they have. "What would you recommend?" He asked since Lance did say that he frequented this place often.
While lifting things off for the waitress who came by to help him clean up he thought for a bit before answering, "Uh, well, the alfredo chicken carbonara is pretty nice. Or if you want you can get the sweet red wine crab ravioli. Both are very delicious." He thanked the waitress and ordered the alfredo chicken carbonara and told her that Keith needed more time to think about it but the Korean stopped her from leaving. "I'll have the sweet red wine crab ravioli." He said, smiling at the waitress who blushed and nodded her head after taking their orders.
Once she left Keith looked at Lance with a smile. "So... Tell me about yourself." He told him which caused Lance to laugh a little.
"What?"
"No it's just... I hear that most of the time when I'm on first dates... Sorry I didn't mean to be rude." Lance apologized, knowing he was probably going to mess this up and they probably won't have another date ever again because Lance was just inwardly freaking out about everything to himself. "Uh, well, I'm 18 years old and I'm a freshman at Garrison University. I'm an art major with a minor in theater. I have... a slightly? I don't know I have four siblings. It consists of Mami, Papi, the youngest twins a girl and a boy, my older brother who's sometime is an asshole but he does a lot of crap that still makes him a tolerable person.... My older sister, my older brother is older than her though by a year, and a dog we adopted recently named Blue. But I have a lot of cousins, aunts, and uncles." He said with a small laugh, always loving to talk about his family to others. "How about you Kogane?"
"Oh, uh, not as big as your family. Just my mom and dad. And we jokingly call Shiro my older brother." Keith said with a chuckle, taking a sip from his glass and he placed it down once he was done. "I work at Coran's Bodega. I'm also 18. I didn't go to college because I thought it was a waste of my time." Lance gasped as he heard that.
"You know more and more people want other people who at least has a bachelor's degree right?" Lance informed him.
"Yeah but I got my job because I have job experience and not a lot of college graduates have that." Keith argued.
"Touche my friend. Touche." Even though it has seemed as if they would have gotten into an argument about going to colleges or not things didn't get heated up and Lance was thankful for that. He didn't want Keith to think he was one to push his opinions on someone else which kind of does happen at sometimes but the Cuban male does know when to back off.
Lance thought of other possible topics to add into their conversation but it seemed as if Keith was the one who wanted to initiate the conversations because he then asked Lance, "Why did you come on this date?"
The brunette male blinked as he was asked the question. 'Shoot if I answer with a lie he'll know because Matt probably told him the truth.' He thought so he sighed and did tell him the truth. He told Keith everything, well, that was an exaggeration but most things about Lotor. From when they first met, to when Lance bravely asked Lotor out, of course not when they first had sex in Lotor's car because that's a more private matter but basically most things he could. "And he even started going out with this hot chick named Nyma! A girl! And he told me he was gay!" Lance complained, Keith just watching him in awe.
'Man, this dude can rant.' Keith thought, softly chuckling because in all honestly, it's what he did as well with Matt when he and Shiro broke up, still listening to the rant Lance was giving him.
"I just..." He stopped when he saw Keith staring at him and he blushed. "Sorry, I get pretty heated up when I think about what Lotor did after we broke up. You know I don't really get how people can easily let go of their exes... For me it takes me awhile."
"People just have their own way of doing things I guess. And, to be honest, I'm kind of in the same boat. I dated my best friend and it was an amazing time... I had a big crush on him since I met him and it felt like a miracle that he even said yes to me because... Well, he was straight. But I guess he still is considering he's now flirting with one of my coworkers..." Keith said with a small sigh. | 56ef94679ac04b80b7a89d4a226b1d27 | ['f9fb67a9d27743ff9d088285275c7c5b'] | "I wouldn't mind that big boy~" Lance purred, causing Keith's switch to turn on yet again, gently but some what roughly pounding into his ass as he hugged him, the other letting out moans but it sounded choppy because Keith was just ramming into him as hard as he could. Well, that's what Lance felt like. Needless to say, Keith could go much faster than this and as he was thinking it, Lance moaned, "Harder!", causing Keith to go as hard as he could. "Do-don't stop... And go faster Keith! Ah!" Lance felt his prostate being rammed into over and over again, causing a loud string of moans exiting his mouth for the people in the apartments next to them, above and below them to hear. How wonderful this all felt. The thickness and length of Keith's dick pounding into him, over and over. The room now smelling heavily of sweat and sex, panting and moaning coming out of both of their mouths. Keith desperately trying to please Lance and Lance unable to say anything but Keith's name, over and over again like his life depended on it. Until both of them reached their climax, the familiar tightness of them wanting to release.
"I-I'm gonna come!" Lance warned, Keith nodding his head in response.
"M-me too Lance. Me too." With one last and rough push into Lance from Keith, Keith groaned and Lance moaned as they came. Keith's release filling up into the condom while Lance's spilling onto his stomach, creating a messier mess than they had before hand. Pulling out of his love, Keith groaned, taking off the condom and tying it before he threw it in the trash can, gently lying down on top of a much exhausted Lance who was still panting, trying to recover from a blissful round of sex.
"Okay... That felt amazing." Lance said, all tired and worn out from the pleasure he's received from his boyfriend.
"Agreed." Keith commented with a small pant, kissing him lovingly which made Lance giggle.
"We should go to sleep love. We can spend the day with each other tomorrow." The Korean told him, making Lance smile in return and kissed his cheek, hugging him as he finally closed his eyes and slept peacefully. Once Lance fell asleep, Keith did as well, their soft snores filling the room as they slept peacefully in each other's arms.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Ahhhhh this took me such a long time. I'm glad I wrote it though. And I feel really proud. I hope you guys like this chapter and that it also wasn't cringey or anything. I seriously need a beta tester for this i swear to god (i know i might have some run ons.... shit) other than that please continue giving me kudoses, subscriptions, and comments. I love you guys for staying with me on this fanfic and for giving all of your support! :)
> Next chapter is coming tomorrow (hopefully).
8. Chapter 8
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Lance ditches his Friday classes to spend more time with Keith. They make an agreement on what they want their relationship to be and get to know each other better.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I just deleted all of the chapter titles I gave each title. Although I'm a bit sad about that it saves me time and I won't have to focus so much on making titles and more so on the chapter. Also I took the day off yesterday to just chill because I needed it and I was so tired for some reason. So today you might get two chapters if I feel like writing two chapters to make it up to you guys. Who knows.
>
> Also: For the text conversation they have here: Pidge is in italics, Hunk is in underline and Lance is in normal font
Keith woke up first even though he really didn't have any more energy to even wake up in the first place. He just wanted to surprise Lance with a nice breakfast and coffee to drink. He chuckled as he saw the naked Cuban male on his bed, thinking how perfect it looked. 'Maybe I can just take a picture...' He thought, slowly going towards his phone on his nightstand, a bit low on battery since he didn't even bother charging it last night because he was tired after making love to Lance. He took several pictures and decided to make a nice one his home screen and maybe later he could get a good picture of Lance waking up, possibly making that his lock screen. Yes he was definitely head over heels for him. And although he was, he also wanted to see if Lance was also head over heels for him as well. He was hoping this was more than just them trying to get over their ex boyfriends. The Korean male did want to be in a relationship with the brunette if he was even given the chance to. He sighed with a soft smile forming on his lips, walking towards the kitchen to get started on their breakfast. This morning's breakfast would include some french toast, with scrambled eggs on the side and coffee for the both of them since Keith's too lazy to even cook whatever he wanted so early in the morning. |
f8aa2f34fb4f4512ab3da7258e8f2a0c | ['fa0042575002468291b251dab13aed10'] | “Not yet,” Rose said, shrugging. “Although that's the eventual goal. Even learning that...Working...required two months of persistent practice. It's a proof of concept, more than anything.” She rested a hand on top of the stack of books. “It proved beyond a doubt that Magic was real.”
Roxy whistled. “Wow, Rose...” The woman tapped the table. Realizing her daughter was staring (seeking validation?), Roxy smiled. “I mean that's great! I'm proud of you, Rose.”
Rose cocked an eyebrow.
“Really, I am!” Roxy waved her hands in front of her.
The very edges of Rose's mouth turned up.
“...so, back there...” Roxy said, pointing a thumb over her shoulder. “Was that more magic?”
“No, that was just an initiation ceremony,” Rose said, shrugging. She picked up “Self-Initiation...” and thumbed through it. “It was a modified version of the Golden Dawn's Neophyte grade initiation ceremony, to be performed by solitary students. Very complicated. Since I don't have any other organizations ready to initiate me into their arcane mysteries...” Rose tilted her head forward slightly.
It occurred to Roxy that her daughter might know more than she let on. “...uh...” the woman said, looking sideways.
Rose smirked. “...I knew I'd need to initiate myself. Technically, since is my second time running the Neophyte ceremony. It's good practice, repeating it, as I'll only have exponentially more involved rituals to perform later.” She closed the book. “All evidence points to the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn being a front for – or product of – an older Hermetic organization. A Rosicrucian – or possibly pre-Rosicrucian – Order devoted to secret wizardry.” Rose tapped the spine of her book, the edges of her mouth turning up slyly. “You wouldn't happen to know anything about such an secret society, would you mom?”
Roxy sighed, looking down at the table. “...the Order of Hermes...”
“Yes, that's the name that came up several times in father's notes,” Rose said, taking up one of her notebooks and flipping through it. “Probably for the sake of secrecy, he didn't elaborate in any book that wasn't in another language, or wrapped up in some inscrutable cipher. Decoding some of the lesser ciphers in his books has proven a challenge in and of itself.”
“Well...” Roxy said, crossing her arms. “I don't know a whole lot about the Order of Hermes, other than what your daddy told me.” Her lips contorted, the woman drawn into contemplation. “Let's see...the Houses of Hermes were formed around the end of the first millennium AD, by a bunch of wizards who previously were just dicking out Europe, doing their own thing. Successors of Egyptian, Greek, and Roman ceremonial magicians and mystery cultists. Zoroastrians, European pagans, and even some esoteric Christians and gnostics. I think some Alchemists, too, but...I think he told me there was something more about that last part...something that made it a whole...thing...”
Rose's eyebrows lifted. “Mom, I'm impressed,” she said. “Maybe you should give yourself more credit. At least for knowing about Mystery Cults...or Zoroastrianism for that matter.” She tapped her fingers on the table. “But, in summation, a collection of masters versed in the High Ritual Magick of the West.”
“Mm hmm...” Roxy nodded. In truth, she couldn't make heads of tails of Western Occultism. Couldn't tell a Crowley from an Agrippa. She was still astounded that there were multiple seals of Solomon. That bit of “knowledge” she spouted was a line she quoted from Richter almost verbatim. “...anyway, one of these wizards – Bonisagus – got tired of his peers feuding in wizard wars all the time, and developed methods what let him and anyone he taught erect shields against magick for themselves. And then taught as many wizards as he could, so they could all meet without worrying about killing each other. And after a lot of bickering and talk, they formed an Order devoted to perfecting...what did you call it?”
“High Ritual Magic.”
“Yeah,” Roxy nodded, “that. A bunch of wizards formed this group, breaking themselves into a series of smaller, more specialized Houses. Flambeau, Tytalus, Quaesitor, Verditus...ugh, a whole bunch of House names I can't even remember. Or pronounce. It doesn't help that half of them died off or got demoted to minor houses over the centuries, replaced by newer ones.” Roxy shook her head. “What I do know for sure, though, is one of the houses: House Bonisagus, founded by...well, you know.” She looked at her daughter, smiling. “Your dad was in that one.”
At some point in Roxy's impromptu introductory lecture on the Order, Rose had pulled a pen from her pocket and started frantically making notes. From Roxy's viewpoint, she could vaguely make out Rose writing “Bonisagus”, and underlining it three times.
“Your dad, like most folks in House B, was a magical researcher,” Roxy continued, rubbing her hands. “I think he studied with some Flambaeu Mages for a while, and maybe some others, but at his core he was devoted to furthering Hermetic magical theory and practice. The legacy of the B-man himself, I guess.”
“Fascinating,” Rose said, eyes focused on her notes. “I suspect, by this detail, that other Houses had their own areas of expertise?”
“Yeah. Quaesitors prosecuted Hermetic law, the...Fortunae, I think, dealt with money and fate,” Roxy said. “And Flambeau fought...uh...”
Rose's pen stopped. She didn't look up, but her ears were trained.
“...they...defended the Order,” Roxy said, head sinking. She looked away awkwardly. “...yeah...they had a lot of flashy fire magics, and were the Order's martial arm. You know, in case the Order got attacked...uh...”
Rose looked up. Roxy felt sweat form on her scalp.
Her daughter narrowed her eyes, but returned to the notes. “Let's move on. How did father go about advancing Hermetic theory?” | 3be60ec953e34ef7a187b8abbe983ad5 | ['fa0042575002468291b251dab13aed10'] | Somewhere, Dave heard the sound of a door getting kicked in.
“Fuck!” Dave exclaimed, frowning. He took a breath, forcing himself back into a meditative calm. “...John, if you can hear me, answer! Dog, I...oh fuck this.”
He pulled the device down and started swiping. While the call was ongoing, he ran through additional tools. All of his own design, of course.
Dave brought up one of his more common apps. Tapping in data rapidly, the screen flickered for a second. When it cleared, Dave got a full, real-time view of the room the call was made from.
Oh god, there were MiBs everywhere. Shit. Shit!
“Shit!” Dave barked, gritting his teeth. He spotted John, brandishing a hammer and cowering in alarm. Nearby, Dave spotted a figure dressed in plain, serviceable garb. The Virtual Adept remembered John talking about his father, so Dave recognized him instantly.
In the back, an incredibly douchey looking man in an expensive suit, sitting in the corner and looking really pleased with himself.
Dave narrowed his eyes (not that it could be seen behind his shades). He ran out the door.
Despite the darkness in the hallway, the incredibly cool dude stepped with precision. He didn't need the light.
Skidding over to another room, he kicked the door in. “Bro!”
“Huh?” said the man at the computer, who looked over his shoulder and displayed his impossibly cool anime shades. The shades he had, through the power of prognostication, been wearing for years before the anime he was referencing was actually made. Bro Strider had a katana in his hands in an instant. “Oh, so the tables have finally turned?” He pointed the sword at his brother.
“Not now, jackass!” Dave screamed, throwing his hands up. “Emergency!”
“Oh...” said Bro, lowering the sword. “What kind?”
Dave tossed the phone over to his brother, who of course deftly caught it in his fingers and looked it over. The adult's face remained impassive – smooth and cool. “Friend getting attacked by Technos?”
“Yeah.” Dave tried to maintain a cool facade. Only his shaking fingers betrayed his anxiety. “I need a ride.”
The man stared at Dave.
Dave stared back. He frowned. “...well?”
“I'm kind of already in my pajamas, dude.”
Dave looked down. His brother was, indeed, already in a set of ironic pajamas. Pickle patterned pants and a shirt with a bottle of relish on it.
“Okay,” Dave said, “but just...just send me, okay? I can do it myself.”
“What's the magic word?”
“God fucking dammit!” Dave yelled, throwing his hands up and scowling. He forced his calm back on. This was no time to be losing his cool. His best buddy needed him. “...sigh...please...”
“I would also have taken a rap solo, but whatever.” Bro turned to his computer and inserted a cord into a slot on Dave's phone. A window popped up on the screen, surrounded by windows displaying lines of code in Matrix green. Because Hacking. The man typed rapidly on the keyboard in front of him. “You have one minute to get ready, dude. Go.”
Dave lifted his left hand. Pulling down his sleeve, he revealed a smart watch. He tapped the screen.
“Sweet Bro: Run teleport program 1016,” he said. “Wardrobe: Red Plush.” He extended his hands outward.
The air shimmered. Code lines flickered here and there.
Shush!
Dave's regular lounging jeans and shirt disappeared, replaced instantly with a red suit jacket and slacks. The shirt beneath the jacket was black, and a white tie hung untied from his neck. “Sweet Bro: Run bafflejack program 413,” he said, fussing his tie into the only knot he knew, “T minus one minute.”
The watch lit up with a clock, counting down from one minute.
“Sweet Bro: Run teleport program 1111. Weapon: Katana 13.”
He held his left arm out to the side. Dave clamped his hand around a sheathed katana as it shifted in. The sheath was red, matching his suit. The young man grabbed the handle.
Dave closed his eyes. He drowned out all distraction. Allowed the world to fall away around him.
He felt himself fall away. Became nothing. Allowed time and space to become nothing. Allowed being itself to become nothing.
“Fifteen seconds, dude.”
The young man opened his eyes. He pulled the sword out, allowing the sheath to drop to the floor. The blade shined in the halflight of Bro's computer monitors. Dave held it ready, posing.
Bro pointed to a raised platform in the corner.
Dave nodded, jogging over. He nudged a smuppet off the pad, then gave another curt nod to the puppet sitting on the table nearby. “Cal,” he said.
Cal the Puppet just sat there, staring into Dave's eyes. His gaze was haunting. Were Dave a lesser man – and were Cal not outrageously cool, like all of Bro's stuff – he might have lost his nerve. Dave always found it off-putting how Cal would just sit there. And watch.
Bro turned around briefly. He unplugged Dave's phone and tossed it back. “Get ready.”
“Yeah,” Dave said, slotting the phone into his pocket. He held the sword before him, and placed both hands firmly on the grip. He closed his eyes.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
“Three...two...one...” Bro said. “NOW!”
The world fell away, then returned. Dave Strider felt the ground beneath his feet again. He opened his eyes.
He stood in some office. Clown shit...sorry, Harlequin shit was everywhere. Including a mural on the wall. And John said Dave's family had problems.
Dave heard voices from another room. He sensed the figures standing there before he spotted the open doorway.
“...is in the middle of a call.”
“With who?”
Dave walked forward quietly.
“...turntechGodhead...”
Dave saw some douchebag standing in front of the door, holding a gun.
“...what the hell is a turntech godhead?”
Dave raised his blade above his head. “Yo.”
* * *
A ghostly presence floated along entropy-blasted streets.
Off in the distance, the Egbert house came into view. |
95add94697f74a2aa5dfe208a619ec34 | ['fa15e34d810742fa9467dd64d4d93b21'] | "Sluts," Says Maque.
"If it isn't our queen."
She sniffs, crawls onto the bed and Tonro is shoved down atop her. Thankfully, they don't have anywhere they need to be. Raiton's siblings are still sleeping soundly in the other room. Tonro let's out a keening sound as he's guided into Maque.
"Ooh, fuck," He says, knocking his forehead against her shoulder. She tangles her right hand in his hair, her left in Raiton's, pulling him down for a kiss.
She may not like her job, but she'll do it to keep her family alive.
She'll do it for these two. For Raiton's siblings. And for the two Tarshish that exude innocence.
Kevierkets' mood darkens some time after the break. And Maque knows it's Ara.
She's got a stranglehold on Kieve.
But, in his own way, so does Enko.
"Disgusting, isn't it?" Asks Marco. "How shameless they are in the manipulation of each other."
"It's easy," Says Maque. "Especially since he isn't one of them."
Marco gives her a strange look. "Ah?"
"He's only a half."
Marco crinkles his nose. "You two go back, right? You should say something to him."
"Too early."
"Better early than late," Says Marco. "He'll be angered that you allowed him into folly."
She decides she'll deal with him when she gets back from her mission.
No sooner has she slipped into the palace, do the Tarshish attack. She slaughters as many as she can while trying to get to Kuden before they do.
Much to Maque's frustration, there's six of them advancing on Kuden, Yanrik is behind her.
"Mom?"
Kuden is calm, no fear. "I love you, Yanrik. And I'm so, so proud of you."
Two lunge and she kills one, is run through by the other before she kills him, too. Yanrik darts off into the halls and Kuden keeps them from going after her.
Her strikes are precise even while wounded and Maque is amazed by her. Out of the shadows slides a Tarshish that isn't dressed like the natives.
Maque instantly knows there's a bigger game being played here.
She, herself shoots out of the dark as he draws a line on the carpet with his foot.
She hits it with such force that she accidentally shatters herself.
Everywhere she attempts to attack him, there's a boundary. She's thankful when she's pushed him near a mirror.
She sinks her teeth into his shoulder as soon as she's out of the mirror and he whistles, lets out a single, shrill note, before sliding a knife from his sleeve and thrusting it into her. She cries out as his knife finds flesh. Kuden is watching with utter confusion.
Maque grips the black mask over the face of the Tarshish as he hauls her from the mirror, stabs her again, and throws her to the floor. She's gasping and tries to get up but can't. The Tarshish has her under a charm.
"It's **you** ," Says Kuden. "But you were supposed to-" The sound of Kuden's body hitting the floor and the wet sounds that fill the seconds that tick by, stay in Maque's dreams long after this night. Kuden never screams once, only makes choked, pained sounds.
Maque lies in silence, waiting for the man to finish her, too, as he stands over her. The flat blade slides along her cheek, smears the late Queen's blood over her face.
She refuses to be afraid of him. But she fights hard when he starts cutting her out of her clothes. She wonders if this would have been particularly sexy in a different context.
He leaves her in her thigh-high heels, giving away what Maque has always sort of guessed at: Tarshish are capable of kink.
Her corset is untied, unfastened at the front and his hands slide over the fishnet on her arms. Something is tied around her head as a blindfold.
What gives him away as a pure blood Tarshish is that he has utterly no interest in what's under her Mokk'et.
She is careful when she walks, favoring her sore lower body as much as she can. She can't help the defeated slump of her shoulders.
She has to stop every few hours to change the bandage on her side where he stabbed her.
It's funny that she's more angry at her defeat than the way he used his knives on her.
She's had the intimacy of sex trained out of her by the Headmaster. He always said something like this might happen and it would be for the best if she could learn to deal with it.
Kieve and Enko return with Princess Yanrik and Maque volunteers for guard detail. Strangely, so does Enko.
He says it's to make up for their failure to help her mother.
What he's really going to do, Maque knows, is keel over and pretend to be mortally wounded as soon as one of his brethren comes to kill her. Maque is blonde, but she's no moron.
It's time to talk to Kieve and she waits til Ara has left him to his meditation, although why she feels the need to escort him, then take so long to leave, Maque can only guess.
There's gasping and groaning, and the quiet hum of... Something. But Maque knows not what it could be.
When she enters, she resists the urge to leave again.
She should have known that he wasn't praying.
But this might be a turning point for him.
He's gagged and blindfolded, tied down on his back with a machine partaking in his body.
Her fingers brush the tears dripping from the wet blindfold. He turns, presses into her hand and she knows she has to be careful lest he realize she isn't Ara.
She kisses him over the gag, runs her fingers over the fine, light purple hair on his chest. And notices a wound, mostly healed, on his shoulder. He presses into her hand. | 91956625313f436cb7829ad2085432ea | ['fa15e34d810742fa9467dd64d4d93b21'] |
1. Chapter 1
"There's injustice in this neighborhood," He whispers to himself as he creeps through the window. He knows these poor people are under Jack's evil oppression.
Digging through the drawers, he finds his enemy's ultimate weapon. With his Shining Needle of Seed Sowing, he lovingly pokes holes into the soft rubber.
"There will be freedom tonight!" He whispers to himself as he sneaks back out the window, his hat, shaped like the head of a penis, catching only slightly on the sill.
At the end of the street, stands Jack, wearing a giant marshmallow. "How dare you destroy my amazing work, Dildo the Second!"
Dildo the Second smiles and proudly strokes the strap on at his pelvis.
Jack hisses and pulls out a giant condom gun. "I'll get you yet! And everyone else who refuses to wear my precious Pregnancy Protection!"
Dildo the Second dodges expertly as Jack launches package after package at him, taking off down the street with the Marshmallow minions chasing after him.
One of them corners him. "No!" Cries Dildo the Second. "Not strawberry flavor!"
"It's the best there is," Says Jack.
Bravely breathing deep, Dildo the Second takes a moment to steel himself for the risk he's about to take. He and the Minion of Fluff stare each other down. Then they quick draw, Dildo drawing faster, shooting his special sticky mayonnaise onto the Minion with his favorite Dick Gun.
The Minion screams in horror as Dildo makes a break for it.
His sidekick, Fleshlight the Third, pulls up in the Cat Mobile and Dildo slips in, pulling on his seatbelt, the buckle and the receiver are shaped like genitals and it makes Dildo happy to wear his seatbelt.
"How'd we do?" She asks.
"Mission accomplished," Dildo proudly says.
Fleshlight the Third smiles at him. "Makes you feel like you've got a real one, huh?"
"It makes me happy to defend these innocent people against Jack's evil schemes."
2. Chapter 2
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Well, late happy birthday, Corn Jesus... Although it's not nearly as good as the first.
> On a side note, it's hard coming up with powers and weapons of sexual nature... Go figure! Haha
Jack shifts on his giant condom-throne, watching the Minion of Fluff teach the Barron of Safe Sex how to apply condoms.
Ah, the agony of boredom. But it is a necessary evil if he wants to catch Dildo the Second.
After he's caught, he'll have no choice but to wear the pregnancy protection!
Shifting on the rubber of the chair makes an odd squeaky sound. Like a wheel that needs badly to be oiled.
_Oh! What a genius comparison!_ He thinks. _Better patent that before anyone else can come up with it._
The Barron looks up. "Are you sure they even work?"
Firmly nodding, Jack tries not to be _insalted_ by the question. The condoms have to work. So of course they work, regardless of the true success rate. He refuses to even come near Dildo the Second without them.
_Oh Dildo,_ Jack thinks with a sigh, _surely you will come around soon..._
Thinking about Dildo's broad-ish shoulders and mischievous eyes gives Jack chills. "Send the condom plants into overdrive!"
Dildo the Second is going to wear his beautiful rubber if it's the last thing Jack does ー Well, for the day. Jack doesn't plan to die over it. That would be counterproductive.
"He's here!" Screams one of the Marshmallow Minions, flailing short arms out of a giant marshmallow costume. His cry of alert quickly becomes a scream of horror and Jack knows it's that damn dick gun Dildo has.
Rounding the corner, he comes face to face with Fleshlight the Third, her fluffy little pussycat on her shoulder. "Get him, Pomegranate."
Jack, relying on muscle memory, launches his condom missiles at the pussycat as it dodges and hisses. He laughs in delight as the cat is entrapped by the rubber, it's ruffled little head sticking out. Fleshlight cries out for Pomegranate to stay put while Jack hurriedly loads another round and points it at Fleshlight.
Bright blue eyes, framed with long lashes, stare at him. "You know those don't work on me, right?"
This throws Jack off. ". . . You're right."
Switching gears, he pulls a set of boomerangs from his pocket and throws one after another, as they fly towards her and she watches cautiously but waits until the last minute to dodge. The first and second fly past her but the third clips her arm and transforms into a ring, wrapping around her wrist securely. Pomegranate yowls from its place inside the giant condom. Fleshlight seems indecisive in this moment.
"You _monster!_ " Cries Dildo before he shoots a Marshmallow Minion with that wretched mayo. "Fleshlight has a right to fantastic, child-producing sex!"
Fleshlight pauses to blink rapidly then turns to Dildo the Second. "What?"
"You heard me right," Says Dildo. "You deserve to go out and have as many baby-daddies as you choose!"
With a strange expression, Fleshlight opens her mouth to answer Dildo. Jack thinks she might have an aneurysm soon.
It's quickly cut short when the Barron of Safe Sex throws open one of the doors and starts shooting a machine gun at them, pelting Fleshlight with The Pill.
She only cries out for a moment before Jack realizes she's hysterically laughing. "I'm taking antibiotics!" And Jack realizes the mistake they've made. The Pill is nullified in response to antibiotics. Still laughing, Fleshlight withdraws palm-sized orbs of various colors. "Eat my warming jelly!" The Barron screams and shuts the door as she throws them like angry Wonder Woman.
Her eyes set on Jack and he pulls out the giant Marshmallow rocket.
From _where,_ you ask?
Yeah, don't ask.
"Eat my sugar!"
Fleshlight and Dildo recoil and search frantically for a place to hide before deciding to turn tail. |
c18e35221a6e47978465dc5e709ce356 | ['fa21375964914af9a1ef2163fe158f35'] | The four of them are childhood friend and while Yuuki is closer to Mafuyu, Hiiragi and Shizusumi is also close with each other so they both understand the other ticks like the back of their hand.
Noticing the silence gaze, Shizusumi looked at Hiiragi and slowly shakes his head.
In a low whisper, Shizusumi leans towards Hiiragi a bit, "Let them be, for now, they need to calm down."
As much as it pains him to see his friends fight, Shizusumi knows that both of them needs time before they even grace anyone with their full attention.
Hiiragi frowned at that suggestion. While he agrees that both Mafuyu and Yuuki would need time to arrange themselves together, he just doesn’t have a good feeling of leaving these two alone for too long. He stared down and took a minute to think of a plan. On how to proceed from here.
He noticed that Shizusumi had taken out his phone and knows that the boy was trying to call Mafuyu, they all worried for the smaller teen, knowing that between the four of them, Mafuyu was the easiest to get sick and hurt. Seeing him running away like that without knowing where he was going, it hit their protective gear on.
Deciding his action, Hiiragi grabbed Shizusumi’s wrist and started to walk out from the small tunnel that they found under the bridge when they were kids. Shizusumi only glanced at him while following his lead, fully trusting his judgement on this.
Hiiragi would always, always be grateful of Shizusumi’s existence., he doesn’t deserve Shizusumi’s total trust and loyalty.
Turning his back, he looked at the still figure of Yuuki and dammit, his heart stung to see such display on that ever so smiling face. Hollow and guilt should never suit his face.
_‘Stupid Mafuyu! Stupid Yuuki!’_
Gulping down his dry throat, Hiiragi finds his voice, “Yuuki, we’re going to search for Mafuyu. God knows where he had run to but I don’t think he would be that far.” He wonders if Yuuki even listens to his words, but the slightest furrow of brows on the platinum-haired teenager was the only indicator that Yuuki indeed listens to Hiiragi’s words loud and clear.
“When we found him, we will call you, we will meet at the location.” It sounds like an order but it also shadowed with pleads. Shizusumi glanced at Hiiragi when he heard that, Hiiragi just tightened his grip on him and glanced back with determination and certainty.
A few seconds passed before they even hear any confirmation from Yuuki. It whispers through the wind that both Hiiragi and Shizusumi thought that they heard it wrong in the first place.
“Why should I?”
The words were uttered in silence and serve in cold empty voice that it sent an electric shock through Hiiragi. Anger course through his body and he trembled from it. _‘This- this idiot FOOL!’_
Yet before Hiiragi could lose control and let his plan be destroyed, Shizusumi wounds his arm around his shoulder and held him steady. Grounding him from his anger. He shut his mouth as Shizusumi replied.
“You should. Mafuyu ran who knows where and no matter how angry both of you are with each other, the least you could do is to make sure he was okay before we all go home. You of all people know how easy was it for him to get hurt. You don’t want that does you?”
It was a low blow but seeing Yuuki flinched at that question dimmed a bit of Hiiragi’s anger.
Deciding that it was time to go and search for their wayward puppy friend, both of them started to walk away. There is nothing more to say.
-X-
Frown decorated his lips and eyes shining with unshed tears, Yuuki stares into space where Mafuyu had been. It’s been a few minutes since Hiiragi and Shizusumi left.
Like a puppet whose string got cut off, he crashed toward the ground. Yuuki’s thought was a jumbled mess, he doesn’t know which one he should be focused on. His mind kept rewinding flashes of the fight. Few a blur to him and others he doesn’t want to remember.
_ _He was angry and hurt and sad_ _
But one particular scene does come to the forefront of his mind and it keeps replaying like a broken record it shatters his heart into tiny pieces.
_ _Mafuyu was standing in front of him, face contorts in anger but eyes shine with unshed tears and voice cracked with hurt and despair that Yuuki had to fight his instinct to warp his arms around the smaller teenager and comforts him all he can._ _
_ _How can he do that when he was the cause of that anger?_ _
_ _But Yuuki was doing this for Mafuyu. He wants to make that lyricless humming by Mafuyu into a song._ _
_ _He wants to give something for his Mafuyu._ _
_ _But it all spiralled out of his control._ _
_ _They never fought this big. Never been too angry to shouts or to utter such hurtful words on each other. It hurt, it hurt and they know that they regret each sentence that flies out of their mouth._ _
_ _So they both suffer for their foolishness._ _
_ _Just as when Yuuki wants to stop this argument, to give them both distance and time before they present their broken heart and doing their best to mend it, Mafuyu voice rings through the little tunnel. Echoing like a bell and will haunt him forever._ _
_ _“WOULD YOU DIE FOR ME, THEN?”_ _
_ _
_ _It stings as if Yuuki had been slapped on the face, hurt deeper than what he could imagine and struck him speechless without words.__ _ _ | 4a41fb46a90d48abb674f83587763db8 | ['fa21375964914af9a1ef2163fe158f35'] | _"Aww, but Shin-chan... They **bad-mouthed** Giotto and the others. No, I cannot let that pass."_
_"Well... They deserved that. Ah, maybe I can add a little bit more?"_
_"You, Shin-chan, hang a little bit too much with Alaude."_
_It was told that the reason for the secrecy was because the two of them was noble. These two cannot afford for their identities to be revealed or it will be hard for them to help the Vongola and endanger the people around them._
_Not to mention that it was because they do not want the enemy to see them as Primo's weak point._
_Primo has many weak points as he was the one who held the family strong and would always take the others before himself. Having such a kind heart, that was why the enemy saw that as a weak point._
_Yet, if you really asked the guardians at that time, they will smile and said that Primo's actual weak point was not that. Sure he would do anything for his family but the real weak point would be the secret guardians._
_Why?_
_Because Primo loves them and being loved back by both of them._
_Not to mention the Moon and Star guardians were the ones that help Vongola Primo coped with the mafia world a_ _nd Giotto will be the one that both of them searched for when they cannot avoid the killing._
_"_ So, they're not mafia born huh," Tsuna whisper solemnly. Not that being a mafia born will help but still, Tsuna never likes it when the civilians got involved in their world. It's enough that his guardians are adamant to stay by his side no matter what no matter what their background is.
_G would always love playing chest with both of them and be the mother hen he was when both of them got into troubles._
_Daemon likes to exercise with the Moon and learn with the Star and he was also the one that always helped them when they are in trouble with their missions._
_Asari like the peace the Star gave and the laugh the Moon can make him made. The Rain will be the only guardian that can force both of them to go to sleep or make them have a proper rest without having the two to throw a tantrum because the Rain knew when both of them just worked too hard and made the worries of the other._
_Knuckle would always happily teach both of them about treatment and first aid kit. He will also extremely lectured both of them for their carelessness while treating their injuries._
_Lampo love to play with the Moon and eat his cooking and the tea the Star made. He will also stand up for them both when he heard other nobles or Lords bad mouthing them or some other rich-noble-brat doubted their status as noble. (Lampo thought that maybe that brat came from a far town to not know about them because the Moon and the Star was a very respectable noble at that time.)_
_Alaude would always discuss with both of them and test who are the most genius. It was the Star though. Unfortunately, even when both of them join forces, they can't even beat Alaude. ("Are you sure Alaude is not a demon in disguise, Gio?" "I am sure, Kai." " I am having a doubt here, Giotto." "Not you too!")_
_They are the guardian's angel of Vongola._
_That made Vongola Primo's family complete._
_The made Giotto and the other happy._
"You're crying, Tsuna."
Reborn let his hands touched the brunet's cheeks, wiping the tear-stained face gently with his thumb.
"I..the tears just fall."
"Mind telling me the reason for it?" He knows that story like this easily affect his lover so he can't blame him for showing his companion easily.
Though he knew the answer already because no matter what others told about him, Reborn wasn't completely heartless. Not to mention that he is a sucker for romance and tragedy.
"I-It just that, they loved each other and I can feel it just from hearing you talked about them and now Primo is dead and so do the others and both of them are immortal and-"
Tsuna ducked his heart onto Reborn's chest, hands tightly holding onto Reborn's suit.
"It must be hurt, for both of them." Tsuna hiccupped.
Really hurt.
For all the First Generation of Vongola to leave their immortal Moon and Star.
"I know." Reborn wrapped his arms around Tsuna, holding him close. _'I know_ '
It has been four hundred years and Tsuna can't think how this Moon and Star guardians miss, _really, really, really_ , miss their dead lover. Their dead family.
**_Theirs Giotto._ **
Tsuna can't really live without Reborn for more than a few months, but for four hundred years? His heart clenched at that thought.
Is that why when he really looked at his grandpa's ghost, the one that manifests from the Vongola ring, he can see very deep emotions in the pure bright orange eyes of his?
A mixture of emotions that reads guilt, sadness and longing.
Tsuna thought at first that it was because of how Vongola had become but as it not particularly wrong, Tsuna now knew, it was because even as a ghost, a will that was left behind in the ring, a part of Giotto still alive in the Vongola ring. A part of Vongola Primo that is also missing both of them.
...
If both of them are immortal, where are they now?
Reborn lightly patted Tsuna head.
"Can I continue?"
"Hn"
_The ones that had encounters with them, no matter how much both of them said that they hate violence and killing - **mafia will not let you enter without having to experience at least one killing or watched other being killed** \- had said that both of them looks identical enough to one another._ |
e49de7d74faf4c91be9b6c623d2a2491 | ['fa43240738b44495b87ecd433c5c8a2f'] | I'd Marry You Harry
**Author's Note:**
> Heeyyy so this is my first post so leave comments on how it is? Do you like it? Is it bad? Did I use too much of their names or 'each other'?? Soo yeah comment :) Thank you for reading I hope you enjoy. BTW, I wrote all of this listening to Gravity by Sara Bareilles. It is a great song and I think it kind of fits the theme of this. So it might make it more emotional if you listen to the song while reading :D okay thank you lovelies -Elly
It's been a year. A year of Harry’s giggles in the early mornings, a year of torturous nights spent alone when Harry goes out of town, a year of dumb fights that lead to a night in bed, a year of romantic dates, a year of cuddling in bed, a year of Harry comforting Louis’ when he has a breakdown, a year of fixing each others problems one step at a time, a year of goodnight kisses, but most of all: its been a year with his one and only. They met when they were both moving into their new dorms in September, both excited for their first year at uni. What they didn’t notice, was slowly falling in love with each other. All of the late nights together, studying and watching movies; that was all leading up to them falling in love with each other. Louis has never had any strong relationships, just short hook-ups and flings. He was just never prepared to devote his romantic life to another person. He has known he was gay ever since Sophomore year at high school. Harry, on the other hand, has always been if-y on his likings. When Harry first met Louis, sure he was impressed, but he had never known that within a few months he would want to spend the rest of his life with him. Louis was Harry’s first, and Harry was Louis’ first love. It was special for the both of them, and Harry couldn’t hold his grin back when he held the white roses behind his back that morning, which were Louis’ favorite flowers. Louis’ beautiful blue eyes blinked open from the sunlight shining into his and Harry’s shared flat, landing on Harry standing in front of him. What had surprised Louis, was when Harry kneeled in front of Louis, giving him the flowers, and pulling out a small white box that matched the flowers.
“Harry, what-“
“Louis William Tomlinson” Harry said softly, opening up the white box, showing a beautiful silver ring with small diamonds embroidered around the edges, the one Louis had eyed up a few weeks ago while at the near by mall with Harry.
Louis went quiet, silent tears building up in the corner of his eyes.
“Will you do me the honor, and marry me?” Harry said slowly, trying not to sound nervous.
“Y-yes” Louis chokes out, immediately wrapping the taller boy in his arms, sitting up in their bed.
Louis cries even harder when Harry slips the ring onto Louis’ finger, Harry starting to cry also. They embrace again, and as Harry holds his boy, he hears Louis whisper out one of their old jokes about getting married,”Because it rhymes.” Harry laughs softly, pecking Louis on his chapped lips. They share their morning just like that, wrapped up in each others arms, smiling like fools. | c3deaefc9627496ab6c0ed117f765edc | ['fa43240738b44495b87ecd433c5c8a2f'] |
Falling 4 You
**Author's Note:**
> Hello, everyone! I'm sorry if this isn't that good. I am writing this at (no joke) 2:31 AM. You will get it when you start reading. Anyways, leave comments please and tell me if you enjoyed it? Is there anything I should add or take out? Soo yeah! Thank you for reading! -Elly
Louis doesn’t remember his last beer, or when Zayn and Liam seemed to be a thing now, but nothing has really ever made sense for Louis. It was a really dumb excuse for a party, being that Niall was literally kicked out of uni. Everyone just wanted to get wasted. That is how it has been lately for Louis; always looking for a lame ass excuse to drown himself in alcohol. Ever since Louis and Warren broke up, nothing has been normal for Louis. Sure Warren was a terrible boyfriend, and a pig that had slept around with more than three men at once (Louis found that out after being with the dick head after 8 months), but that sad relationship had somehow held him together. After they broke up, his mates would comfort him, it just wasn’t enough. Niall’s arms would be too light, Zayn’s too heavy, Liam too good of a person to know heartbreak when he sees it. Louis had felt like he was in that stupid story with the three bears and goldilocks and he was so sick of it. He wanted someone to hold him that was actually there for him, who had understanded what it felt like to feel so alone, empty, and useless at times.
So here Louis sits, at 2:31 AM in the snow in late November, smoking a fag and trying to stand up and not slip and crack his head open since he sees two of the same thing; like for instance two Liam’s walking this way.
“God Louis, you look terrible” Liam said, slipping his warm hands around Louis back to pull him to his car where Zayn is waiting with the heat blasting in the car.
“I-Im fine just, I want to stay here Liam” Louis struggles to get out of Liam’s hold.
“Louis. Your wasted at 2:30 in the morning, you have work tomorrow. If you try to leave I will literally tackle you to the ground and force you in the car. Lets go” Liam says with all seriousness. Louis wants to cry.
So that is how the night ends, Louis wrapped up in between Liam and Zayn in their bed, because he had begged for at least 5 minutes before Zayn just pulled him into the oversized bed and Liam climbed in too.
Work was dreadful the next day. It wasn’t just his hangover, or the gagging every time he smelled any type of food, which really messed him up because he works in a fucking grocery market. What made the day worse was when he was walking out on his lunch break. He was just minding his own business, head low with a beanie perched on his head, sweater hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. Wouldn’t you guess it, he slips on a fucking puddle of ice. Falls right on his butt, and damn did that hurt like a fucking cunt and now Louis is cursing at himself and he is about to cry because he has never felt so low in his life. No pun intended.
“Are you alright?” Louis is pulled out of his thoughts when he hears a deep voice behind him. Louis turns his head around to see a freaking giant. Well not literally but damn is that man tall.
“Ah- yeah Im fine just a little tripped up” Louis sighs and tries to get up, and failing miserably when he slips onto his knees.
“Here. Give me your arms” the man says, and wow he has green eyes and Louis cannot look at them unless he wants to fall in love with a stranger who is trying to pull Louis up.
Louis holds his arms out to the man and as Louis finally stands up, everything is fine. Then wouldn’t you know it, his ‘savior’ slips and falls down, taking Louis down with him. It isn’t the situation in general that has Louis full on sobbing now, laying on top of a complete stranger. It is just everything in his life right now. Is it so hard to go and have a smoke while hungover on your lunch break? Louis didn’t want to fall and be saved by some stranger who apparently has bad coordination and ends up knocking them on the ground. Thank the lords that there isn’t a big amount of an audience watching this terrible scene, because Louis thinks he will pass out.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry.. er.. Louis” the stranger reads his name tag and pulls them both back up quicker than they fell down.
“No.. it isn’t this. I need to go” Louis chokes out quickly, brushing his fringe out of his face and storming off, not even thanking the stranger and Louis wants to puke.
It isn’t until he is walking home that he encounters the same man. Now actually looking at him, Louis can actually take in his looks. He is taller than Louis, with soft brown curls covering his head. He’s got nice legs and a big back, and the only reason Louis can see it is because the stranger’s back is to him. When stranger man spots Louis walking behind him in the corner of his eye, he turns around hastily. Louis doesn’t know whether to cry again or to fall again, because the next thing he knows, he is being engulfed in a hug. Louis didn’t know he chose the first one because he is somehow crying, but then Louis notices that it isn’t him. Its the stranger.
“Hi there” Louis says, pulling back a little in the hug. What Louis is trying to avoid is the feeling he got just then hugging that man. The feeling he has wanted for so long in someone comforting him.
“I am so sorry, I saw you on the ground and tried helping and then I go and ruin everything by slipping and then you ran away crying and I didn’t mean to I swear, I-“ the man rambles on and wow, Louis is defiantly in love.
“N-no it wasn’t you. I, umm” Louis slowly detaches himself from the man because why are they hugging?
“I just didn’t feel well. Sorry for making you think that it was you” Louis said quickly, keeping his eyes on the ground.
“Oh” is all Louis hears before a hand is stuck in front of him. Louis wants to hold it and never let go.
“I’m Harry” the stranger says and wow, he has big hands compared to Louis. Louis wants to marry him.
“Louis”
“Well, Louis. Can I make it up to you with some coffee?” Harry asks softly, looking down at Louis. Louis nods his head softly, a pink blush forming on his cheeks and acting like a schoolgirl because omygod did he just ask me for coffee that is so cute. And even though Louis won’t get anything that day because he has a massive hangover, he will stay in that coffee house on the corner of NorthBurg with Harry for the rest of the day. Louis doesn’t know, but really, Harry falls in love with Louis, as Louis does with Harry. They will date, and Harry will help Louis get over his problems together. Harry will propose to Louis two and a half years of dating on June 7th, and on February 14th they will get married. Louis thinks back on the day that he met Harry all the time, and he thinks it was all a puny sign. A sign that yes, everything will go wrong on somedays, and sure nobody can control it. A pun that yeah, Louis and Harry obviously both fell for one another when they met. And Louis found out that Harry is the one Louis was looking for all along, just someone to hold him not too soft but not too strong. To know what its like being left alone and empty, because sure Harry has been threw heartbreak and Louis wants to kiss it away because he is in love with the goof. Isn’t that all that matters? |
34e438bf0e96421484ecc2994d7e6ec8 | ['fa44b544faf34a8a9fa8c42ff9227fd8'] | "You don't think that you could tell the difference between a shadow and a human in the real world, do you?"
"No, I'm not sure I could," Rise said, letting her shoulders fall. "In here, I can see things for what they really are, but out there…If you had approached us as just a friend of Souji's or something, I wouldn't have known to look for anything beyond that."
Ahead, Kanji and Naoto were pushing open the large front doors of the high school. Ryoji looked over their heads and was pleased to see that the city looked like it normally would at night, no coffins filling the streets and no blood pooling in the gutters. Reassured, he gazed down at Rise.
"No, you probably couldn't," he said, unwilling to lie. "But ordinary shadows wouldn't think of trying to live in the real world. Next time you see a yellow-eyed shadow, watch what it does instead of listening to what it says. They don't want dominance or to somehow eclipse their originals. They just want acceptance from the person that matters most to them. They're…simple. Uncomplicated."
"But you aren't," she said, and Ryoji knew it wasn't a question.
"No, I'm not simple. I like simple things, though."
Rise smiled reluctantly back at him. "Like what?"
"Living," he said, a big smile curling over his face. "And pretty things and video games and hot springs and the rain. I like trying new foods, and I like high places. I just like stuff, really."
"Are those things that Souji secretly likes?"
"No," Ryoji said, something warm lighting up in his chest. "Those are things _I_ like."
Rise seemed to contemplate that as they walked through Iwatodai's streets. Ryoji bit his scarf, pulling it up over his chin and burrowing down into it until his head was practically resting on top of Souji's. Treading the streets of the phantom city was eerie at best, and Ryoji thanked Souji, even in his unconsciousness, for his proximity.
"So, what are you two?" Rise said in a soft voice.
"How do you mean?" Ryoji asked, and something in her tone made him huddle reflexively over his other.
"I mean…" she said, waving her hands and looking flustered.
"Oh, you mean…heh," Ryoji said, chuckling. "Well, if you'll permit me to go a little Dylan on you, he was my shelter from the storm when I truly needed it, and a true friend despite all my failings. And, in a past life…" he said, and a flush of memory washed over him. "Well he has always sort of been my everything ever since I was capable of comprehending what 'everything' was, but the first time around, when living was fresh…Minako was, god, she made me feel…human. Like I, Ryoji, mattered beyond just my purpose as Nyx's avatar, and I can't even explain," he said trailing of with a skittering laugh.
Rise stilled, staring at him. "You loved her," she said.
"Did you believe love was beyond the capabilities of shadows?"
"Of course not," Rise said, and Ryoji was mildly stunned by the absolute sureness behind her voice. "Shadows are capable of affection and humor and all sorts of other things."
Ryoji jerked his head towards the red and blue bear suit that waddled beside Yosuke. "You know what he is."
Rise nodded. "When we first met Teddie, he was just an empty suit," she said.
"That would do it," Ryoji said, smiling. "I'm glad you know. I didn't want to be the one to break the news."
"We aren't that stupid, feather-brain."
Ryoji grinned, "So we're close enough to have nicknames, are we. I'm truly honored, Ms. Kujikawa."
"You said to call you whatever made us feel comfortable. But, hey, back on topic. Don't think you can weasel your way out of this one, mister."
Ryoji just laughed. "Yes, I loved her. Still do, actually, regardless of circumstances. I cared for her just as much the second time around."
"But she was a dude. Or am I following this correctly?"
"You're on track. She was different the second time around, but the same in spite of it all. She's the same still."
Rise gave him a pitying look. "Feather man, I hate to tell you this, but Souji's definitely not a girl."
"I was aware, but I appreciate your warning," he said, sincerely.
Rise snorted, "Wow, I keep trying to talk to you like I would Souji, but he's got a _way_ better head for sarcasm than you do. I'm practically lobbing them at you, but you let them fly by."
"I am plenty cynical, Rise darling, I just don't think it's polite to backtalk a lady."
"Oh boy, are you going to have trouble with this group. I'm going to go ahead and warn you away from treating any of our girls like porcelain. They're stronger than you think, and they really won't appreciate it."
Ryoji smiled. "Thank you."
"What, for telling you how to charm us fighter chicks?"
"Well, yes, for that too, but primarily for staying back and talking with me. It means a lot."
"The way I see it, if you wanted us dead or hurt or anything of the like, it would have already happened. Besides, I trust Souji's judgment, and he seemed happy around you."
Ryoji blushed lightly, clenching his fingers in the fabric of Souji's shirt.
They walked together for some time, making their way through the empty streets under the glow of the streetlights. When they were close enough to the train station to see it looming above them in the distance, Rise asked, "So, what was Souji like?"
"Which time around?"
"What was…she like?"
"A little like you, actually. I won't pretend to know what type of person you are from this one meeting, but you two are similar in voice and diction. Beyond that, I'd rather not say. I don't know what Souji will want me to tell you and what he'll want to say for himself." | db3fc827190744e78f00ff728f9cc0dc | ['fa44b544faf34a8a9fa8c42ff9227fd8'] | After a few more attempts to free the object, Souji let his hand fall. "It's a key," he said at last, wiping blood onto his already soaked pants. "A big, important key."
Chie took a step forward. "Is that the key you were looking for?"
Yosuke couldn't see Souji's face, but he saw his shoulders shake. "No, it isn't," Souji said. "I don't know what it is about keys today. The key I lost is important to me, but this…I think it's a key to time or…Shit," he whispered then yelled sharply, "Margaret!"
Nothing responded.
"Damn it, Margaret, I know you can hear me!"
'She won't respond. You don't have the Velvet key,' the voice said, softly.
"The Velvet room is in my subconscious. She can hear me, key or no."
'But she will not respond. Why do you want to talk to your handler, anyway? What does she have to do with anything?'
"You know," Souji growled.
The voice remained quiet.
"Margaret," Souji yelled, louder than before. "What did your siblings do? What did you let them do?"
'She didn't _let_ them do anything,' the voice said, and it almost sounded angry. 'They made their own choices. It wasn't her job to stop them.'
"They could have ruined everything," Souji said, his voice strong and flat.
There was no response.
"What if they had messed up? What if it went wrong?"
'It didn't.'
"But it could have," Souji said, grabbing the hilt of the key once more.
'But it didn't,' the voice said in a frustratingly even tone.
Souji pulled on the key again. The voice said nothing. Souji grunted, rising up onto his knees and leaning in until he knocked foreheads with the statue. He sat there for a long moment.
"Souji," Chie said, hesitantly.
When Souji spoke, he wasn't addressing Chie. "Is this real?"
'It is what you wish to see.'
"And what do I wish to see?"
'The truth.'
"This is the truth that I lived for?"
'Apparently not,' the voice said, and there was humor in its tone again.
"When does this happen?"
'Half already happened, and half won't happen for a long time. A very long time, but you shouldn't trust my estimate. We were like that for…I can't even really say.'
Souji pulled away from the statue so that he could look it in the eyes.
"We…" he said, then pushed on past his false start. "Meaning you and me?"
'That wasn't what I meant, no, but it isn't inaccurate.'
"So, you're…" Souji said, quietly.
'You? That depends. Do you accept me as such?'
Souji stood. "You are not my shadow. You won't go berserk if I don't."
'No,' the voice said. 'But don't you think this might be even more important?'
"Maybe," Souji said, brushing a hand over the top of the statue's head. "Do you realize what you're asking of me?"
'Compared to what's been asked of you before, I'd say this is nothing.'
"The person on the next floor. He isn't controlling you, is he?"
'No,' the voice said, genuine pleasure behind his words. 'My counterpart on the lower floors and I are nothing more than reflections of what you want us to be. You wanted to deal with this in a more personal way, and the tower complied. I'm glad this is finally getting through that thick skull of yours.'
"You mean that thick skull of _yours_."
The voice almost sounded like Souji when it laughed and said, 'There you go. That really is more like it.'
A gust of wind swept across the platform, and Yosuke closed his eyes against the force of it. When he opened them again, the field was lit, and the statue was gone.
"So, dude," Kanji said, clapping an arm on Souji's shoulder. "I thought my bathhouse place was weird, but you totally take the cake."
"You can even eat it, too, if you want," Rise said, laughing weakly. "You couldn't have a normal shadow, could you? You just had to show all of us lowly folk the ropes. You dog, you."
Souji actually laughed, and the sound was bright enough to push the teems of questions in Yosuke's brain aside. He was still going to interrogate the crap out of Souji when this was through, but it could wait. There was only one more floor, and once they were done, he could corner is friend and demand some answers at his own leisure.
11. Remembering the End
When the team finally made it to the roof, they emerged into a swirl of black and green clouds that clung to the falcon crested columns and hugged the tower's sides. The moon, which had already seemed large on street level, sat monstrous above them, its hulking mass blocking out all glimpses of the sky beyond.
The clouds and the moon combined to successfully bleach out all color, and Yosuke found the bleak grayness disheartening. The others must have agreed, because they all huddled together, casting suspicious looks across the final stage.
Despite expectations, the platform appeared to be empty. Wind swirled in the thin air, and Yosuke shivered.
"I thought those two downstairs said there would be somebody up here," Kanji said, yelling over the gusts.
"Maybe nobody's up here because you haven't decided who you think _should_ be up here, yet," a new voice said, and unlike the previous two, this one sounded clearly human. "I must admit, I find that a tad insulting. I know you didn't mean it that way, but even unintended blows can sting, especially after I've been waiting for such a long time."
Yosuke didn't know what reaction he had expected, but Souji breaking out into a wide grin and laughing just wasn't it.
"Oh, wow," Souji said, and the guy was freaking _smirking_ , "I really should have seen you coming. I didn't realize you were this much a dick." |
e82fd57ae0db4577b9a568582cf5aae5 | ['fa48cd8781714b939ff4669058acca51'] |
therefore, you and me
**Author's Note:**
> im going 4 black eagles baby... i hope the game is pretty good
People are known as love itself and others are known as hate, darkness in it's mortal form. Is that true? Even if it isn't nor is, are people really full of one trait? Edelgard does not see herself as someone of darkness nor light, but a mix of both. When we think of things on our own, we sometimes look for other people's attention. We look for praise, so that we feel as if we are right and that can help us make more choices further in life as the times roll on.
There is someone who Edelgard longs to hear words from, her professor, Byleth. The professor who helped her get to this point, to this stand of being an empress. The weight of reality is crushing her mentally, but she mustn't show pain, women do not express themselves at all times. We are known to bottle things up as well, even if we know we should let our minds become hearts.
When we long for something from one, we come to admire them, do we? Edelgard admires so much about Byleth, from the way the breeze blew her hair to her voice. This admiration was deep seated and lasted long when she was younger. She had to come... love. Something that she has little to no experience with or maybe she did have experienced, but those memories within her heart are long gone.
It feels wrong to love another woman, Edelgard is bothered by this feeling in her heart. Was it wrong, to love someone of the same sex? No, isn't it? We can love whoever and whatever we want because we have some sort of freedom and we should choose who we love, being comfortable with our beloved. It isn't so common that we feel weird about, this is a muddled identity.
Edelgard made a promise that she'd come back to Byleth. Surely, she has to. A foolish promise made by a foolish young girl, we are all fools no matter our age. This foolish girl has grown up to be twenty two, a woman who is still a child inside but now must accept adulthood and go forth. There is no time to be emotional. But she's trapped in curiosity, realizing she's going nowhere as she opens her eyes.
It feels like a dream, doesn't it? To be back in the place where you had so much success and learned of the deeper concept of life or death. With this, you grow as a person and learn to be yourself, to take pride in who you are and live renewed. The empress is glad she's in more formal clothes rather than armor, it slows your movement and makes things difficult.
There, she sees someone who looks like her professor from afar but the hair is different... still... driven by the fact that she is fulfilling a promise; her mind becomes her heart, running towards that person, memorizing the land by muscle memory. Her heart skips a beat, oh who knew that miss Edelgard could feel so much behind her personality.
Is it the one who's snagged her heart without knowing? Oh please please, be that special someone and rid the empress of her heavy heart. By a whim of fate, that someone turns around, indeed it is Byleth who seems surprised. The fact that after five years, her prized student is back, but how did she get let back into this area of scholars and school-related subjects? Ha, never mind that. She's just glad that someone could keep their promise.
"P-professor... B-Byleth..."
Her professor looks so different now, her hair is different by the white mixture of green, but there's something else that has changed too. She can't put her finger on it.
"I'm glad to see you, Edelgard. I was wondering about you." Byleth brings her right hand to caress the latter's cheek, her lips curving up.
At that moment, the empress bites her tongue, figuring out what to say. To express this heavy heart or have herself suffering, it is her choice. She leans into the warm touch, it has been so long since she's last seen her professor... her heart feels a little better.
Selfish, Edelgard wants time to stand still and to be in this moment forever. There is just something about Byleth that makes her feel better, to know that Byleth cares.
"B-Byleth..."
"What is it, Edelgard?" That comforting hand slips away and it takes every muscle to not bring it back. Skin tinges.
"...D-Do you... l...love me? A-are you proud of... me?" Moments like these, the face of an adult fades away and we see a child who longs for praise, to know that they're doing good.
"I do love you and you may take that however you'd like. I am proud of you, look at you! You're an empress now, a wonderful leader... I could not have been happier to be your teacher and to see you grow. You are my prized pupil, Edelgard."
Even with these silly voices that scream don't cry you can't feel, tears prick at the ends of eyes. It feels so good to hear words that both heart and mind ache for, it's a relief. She's happy, happy because the fear of never being told that you're prized, that you're the best from the one you looked up to is finally gone. Her fear of being ashamed has flown away and oh is she glad for this day, so thankful... grateful..
"T-thank... you..." She can't help it, so touch starved, Edelgard brings Byleth into a hug. So warm, she can just melt and forget about everything n anything. Scared of letting go and being unable to feel this happy, this grateful before, this... human ever since... a time that will not be remembered.
It feels so great to be loved, the warmth around Edelgard is something she'll yearn for eons. But she'll cherish it for when she does leave, she just can't go off on adventures without someone telling her the lines of danger are ahead and she'll die. She wouldn't mind dying in Byleth's arms, the embrace is so warm... so inviting. She smiles without feeling it, a content sigh is heard from Byleth.
If we cannot follow the traditions of hippie love and being happy, content with expressing it, we can use our actions. In the end, even our troubles will shine beautifully.
**Author's Note:**
> this fic is meant to make no sense by reality and where it takes place... soemtimes we just write things to write things | 48b274bc4d614a6d8104975dc99a9053 | ['fa48cd8781714b939ff4669058acca51'] | mayday
**Author's Note:**
> i want to understand the type of person you are... also this is written in all lowercase because I’m on mobile
all alone, in a sea of fears, mistakenly believing something is love... affection... to be desired is still new... chills her spine and makes her throw her head back...
afraid of who she’s become... she lays in the arms of someone she knows too well, everything is unsteady and drunk... who is she anymore... who is the real edelgard... she’s no nice girl... she’s a dictator...
a dictator who is viewed ‘good’ by the eyes of others for the simple fact she is a woman and we help craft her, unwillingly knowing very little of her true plans.
“tell me— edel. tell me what’s in your head.” her voice is like pretty poison, edelgard wants more of it. more and more until the tidy room is filled with black ink.
“the sea... i’m drowning in it.” don’t lecture her on fears, the sea is a common fear and she knows it... empresses shouldn’t have any fears... she feels so incomplete...
“relax, my student. step down from the throne... feel free... be free.” byleth’s hand is so smooth... so caring... she wants to thank her... the ground is inviting... but she wants to fight this.
“i cannot do so... byleth. i must go onward... even if i must kill you...” edelgard finds it hard to go against her own teacher, whom she caught red rose petal emotions for... she’s stupid. foolish girls in love while war happens...
“you can’t do so...? why, you said... you’d do anything for me before. what’s up with that now?” byleth makes this path hard, hands shake.
“we... you... i...” the empress can give up. but who will go against foolish ideals... who will say the crests are to blame... who will do what she has done? nobody.
“speak, edelgard von hresvelg.”
the iron against her throat feels energizing.
take her... free her... the hand on her face is gone, it’s on the ground behind them surely... the ground is full of life. if she dies, will it wilt away or will it continue to grow?
“byleth... professor...”
“what is it, dictator in red?”
“i mistook you... for love. i am foolish...”
“...me? love—... you are already lost, aren’t you.”
edelgard doesn’t know how to answer that question.
**Author's Note:**
> this fic is meant to not make sense |
b34cdde3f552402abf537a1ae47eba2c | ['fa49edcc4b164c2f8c3b11a412267f4a'] | > Yeah, but I appreciate everything and I thank you all so much for your support, love, and encouragement. Sorry about the huge gap between updates again, as usual, heh.
>
> On another note, don't ask why there were special, separate POVs when it ended up just being Karkat's dream because I don't have an answer other than that's how it went and I didn't know how it was ending til' like the penultimate chapter. Thanks for your tolerance.
>
> Thanks SOOOOOO much again!
>
> Much love,
>
> ~CC~
>
> P.S. Other multi-chapter will proably not be concluded for quite some time. An update will be posted ASAP 8D
>
> Shankzzzz | 81fb55591b45448890bb422af809837c | ['fa49edcc4b164c2f8c3b11a412267f4a'] | Raggedy Roxanne
**Raggedy Roxanne**
Clacking high heels echo as she strides down the alley, looking down. Pausing, she looks around. Silence fills the pitch black darkness until a rustle comes from the shadows. The girl puts her hands on her hips and cocks an eyebrow. A minute passes. Wind blows the young lady's blonde hair as she takes a single step toward the shadow. Her boots scrape against the pavement as she whirls around, administering a perfectly executed back kick.
She sticks her lips out indignantly, watching the stranger hit the wall with force. He takes only two seconds to recover before he jumps at the girl's throat. She ducks and dives into the man's legs, causing him to fall backwards. He punches her in the face before she can react.
She sits back with a look of pure disgust, putting a hand to her cheek. "Well aren't you the feisty one, mister."
With that, he attempts to tackle her, but her foot connects with his chin just in time. She kicks him off and stands, stomping his head one last time for good measure. She walks a few steps, then stops and fixes her appearance. A girl like her has to keep her posture up and neat.
People might mistake her for a fifty-cent-whore, or a stripper. She's not a stripper, she's a _poledancer_. Despite their thoughts, she is merely an average girl, just getting by. Just like every other girl, she has her ups and downs. She has had her bad relationships and experiences. She's had her breakups and has many exes, Even if it's an unusually large number.
She just can't seem to make it work with anyone. She can't seem to make any _thing_ work either. But she's strong. Roxy Lalonde is strong. She knows that.
Before long, the young lady is on her way. |
24bbaa01e26b4f4d92ce2d2e811048ae | ['fa4ba1598eca4e4794a42266a4ab49f6'] | They fell into silence as Yuuri took a peak at his hand. It defiantly wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but it still hurt. The ice helped but he was going to be feeling the burn for some time.
“D-did he find any? Your doctor?”
“Any what?”
“Freckles or something?”
“No. I’m fine,”
“I-I won’t tell. I promise.” Yurio muttered picking up his bag from the floor and heading for the door. “But you have to tell him soon. It’s not fair, lying to him.”
Yuuri snorted as Yurio left the bathroom. “Since when has life been fair?”
***
The days following the incident were both stressful and relatively calm. Yuuri’s parents did call his doctor to come look at his hand and he told the truth about what had happened…sorta. He told them he had just fallen asleep at Ice Castle and didn’t hear his first alarm and was taken by surprise. Which he was…he just left out Yurio’s part. While his parents may have tried to scold Yurio for being rash, he knew Mari may just have kicked his ass all the way back to Russia.
Victor asked what happened of course and he simply said he spilled some boiling water on himself and left it at that.
It was easier with the little white lie.
Even if it did make him feel terrible.
Yuuri wasn’t sure if Yurio was going to tell Victor, even though he promised not to, but he had been subdued in his attitude towards Yuuri. He still screamed at Victor and Mari and anyone else who called him Yurio, but never Yuuri. He even went so far as using Yuuri’s name instead of insults.
Yuuri noticed right away and knew exactly what it was all about.
Victor took a couple days but as soon as he noticed it he had to mention it. They were skating one evening at Ice castle and he simply announced how pleased he was that Yurio was learned to be nice to his fellow skater and when Yurio denied it, Victor straight up told him that he hadn’t insulted Yuuri in days and even went out of his way to help him.
Yuuri wished Victor hadn’t mentioned anything.
Yurio, in turn, simply frowned and stomped off in a huff.
Yuuri followed him, after giving him some time to calm down, and after being able to ditch Victor for a few moments. He found him sitting on a bench not too far away from Ice Castle.
“I didn’t realize…” Yurio muttered angrily.
Yuuri simply sighed at sat down next to him. “XP didn’t happen instantly when I was born you know. I burned easily at first so my parents simply thought I had sensitive skin. Sunscreen was enough to protect me then. It wasn’t until I was 4 or 5 that everything changed. One minute I was at school with my classmates and dreams of being a professional skater and the next…something in my body changed and I couldn’t be in daylight anymore.”
He glanced to Yurio to make sure he still had his attention and satisfied that he did, he continued. “My friends didn’t know what to say and they didn’t know how to act. I couldn’t do the same things they could anymore. It became awkward as they continued to live as they always had but slowly came to realize that I couldn’t. So, one by one, they left. They stopped coming by and life moved on.”
“Yuuko stayed.” Yurio muttered, “She says she knew you since you first started skating.”
“Yuuko stayed because she was strong enough to deal with my problems. Takeshi too. They found ways around it, but you’re still new to the idea. I’m not sure if you liked me in the first place, but now you know about my disease and in your mind, you know that insulting a sick person isn’t right. You feel guilty. You feel awkward because you don’t know where you stand. You don’t know how to act.”
“I don’t feel guilty.”
“Yes you do. It’s natural. You see my disease and not me. And you’ll either figure it out and see me for me again or you won’t and the first thing you think about when you see me is ‘he’s sick so I have to be nice to him’.”
“This feeling…it’s why you don’t want Victor to know yet right?”
“Everyone in Hatsetsu, except for a handful of people, look at me with pity; they look at me and see a sick boy. And sure I have a disease that makes my life a bit difficult but look at me Yurio, do I look sick to you?”
And Yurio did look and if he hadn’t known something was wrong with Yuuri then he never would have guess there was anything wrong. “Not…really?”
Yuuri smiled and stood, deciding to head back to the rink. “I’m not telling you what to do Yurio but I’m not going to suddenly drop dead, so you don’t have to feel awkward or guilty for how you want to treat me okay?”
He left Yurio sitting on the bench and headed back into Ice Castle and put his skates back on. He told the truth when Victor inquired about where he had gone. He had wanted to check on Yurio since he had been acting weird.
The two of them just skated in a loop around the rink, arms linked. It was rather serene in a way, with just the two of them. They hadn’t really been alone since Yurio showed up. Victor must have thought the same thing because it wasn’t long before he decided a kiss was in order.
Of course Yurio decided to come back right at that moment.
“Oi, Pervs! Do you really have to do that on the ice?!” Yurio screamed and slammed his fists against the rink barrier. | dfc9a41cefbd4afbbeced3ac11419d29 | ['fa4ba1598eca4e4794a42266a4ab49f6'] | Yuri did stay, of course and made his displeasure about it know every moment Yuuri was within shouting distance. Yuuri had no idea why this boy was so angry at him, he didn’t make Victor leave Russia, he didn’t even know the kid. He knew of him of course—Yuuri was too immersed in the skating world not to be aware of him—but it seemed like Yuri was holding a grudge for some imaginary slight Yuuri had no idea how to fix.
Fortunately, Yuuri was able to avoid the boy simply by keeping to his own schedule most of the time.
Tonight, however he wasn’t so lucky.
“You are such a lazy piglet. Is sleeping all you do? I can see why you never managed to make it off your tiny rink.” Yuri nearly shouted the second he saw him.
Yuuri sighed and just kept walking. Victor had taken shots at him too in the beginning but his were more in jest instead of pure anger.
Victor defended Yuuri at every opportunity, constantly telling Yuri that he helped out around Yu-topia at night to make sure everything was ready to go for the next day. Yuri never listened of course; he just wanted an excuse to yell at Yuuri.
Escape was Yuuri’s one option. So he wandered outside to sit on the front steps, just for a moment’s peace. Apparently, Mari had done the same.
She sat on the steps, a lit cigarette in her hand, and smiled at Yuuri when he joined her. “It’s been a bit lively around here lately.”
“Seven minutes Mari.”
“Yuuri…”
“Every cigarette is another seven minutes off your life. It’s bad enough mom and dad will have to watch me die, don’t make them watch you too.”
Mari signed and put out her cigarette before smiling at Yuuri. “You are worse than the warning labels.”
“Tough love. I don’t want to outlive you.”
“You have gotten morbid in your old age.”
“Bite me.”
“I’ll leave that to your boyfriend…he is your boyfriend right?”
Yuuri shrugged. They hadn’t really had that conversation. What do you call a man who came all the way from Russia, becomes your coach for a probation period, hugs you, kisses you, and invades your personal space ever change he gets?
But then…they hadn’t had several conversations yet.
Yuuri kept telling himself just a little bit longer, he’d tell him soon he just needed more time.
“Maybe?” Yuuri asked truthfully. “He doesn’t know about me yet.”
“Well what about the blond Yuri? Why does he act like you personally spit in his soup?”
“I have no idea, other than I have Victor’s attention and Yuri wants Victor’s attention. I dunno.”
“Well having two Yuuri’s is going to be confusing. He’s getting a nickname.” She said getting up and ruffling Yuuri’s hair before shouting inside at Yuri. “Oi, Yuri, you will now be known as Yurio!”
A muffled shout back could be heard which made both Mari and Yuuri laugh.
“Tell you what Yuuri; you tell Victor about XP and I’ll quit smoking.”
“You should quit anyway.”
“And your boyfriend should know the truth about you. You have to give to get Yuuri. It works both ways.”
***
Some weird coexisting happened the following weeks. Somehow, without talking about it, both Yuuri and Yurio fell into a routine of sharing Victor. Victor’s afternoons were dedicated to creating a routine for Yurio. Yuuri still got the nights with Victor and they still did everything they had before but now they either had to deal with a grouchy—at least when it came to Yuuri—teen who seemed to tag along for no other reason than to annoy.
Yuuri didn’t mind too much. He imagined this is how Mari felt when he was younger and wanted nothing more than to hang out with his sister—though, he was pretty sure Mari would never put up with any back talk—and if it came to it, Victor and Yuuri were pretty good at ditching Yurio after their skating. Yuuko and the triplets were also great distractions.
He would admit that he did feel a bit guilty about it since Yurio came all this way to ask—more like demand—Victor to go back home and generally seemed to want his attention but Yuuri’s selfish part just wasn’t willing to part with Victor just yet.
It didn’t help that Mari kept giving him looks that equated to ‘tell him’ every time she caught Yuuri’s eyes.
Yuuri simply wasn’t ready. He liked being normal; even if it was only pretend.
Phichit kept insisting he tell Victor as well, arguing that Yuuri had told him and nothing bad happened. Yuuri didn’t argue back but he felt like it was completely different. Phichit didn’t live nearby; he didn’t have to live by Yuuri’s schedule to be able to enjoy Yuuri’s company.
Yuuko thankfully never said anything, but he could feel her eyes on him occasionally and she looked at him with sadness that spoke volumes. She knew all about Yuuri’s fears; she had lived through a lot of them coming true and she desperately wanted this to be different for him. So she said nothing and just hoped instead.
It had become so much of a mess—emotionally because of the lies—physically because he never wanted to be caught by the sun unexpectedly—and mentally because Yurio kept asking questions and he needed to give the same answers he had given Victor or the lies could unravel. However, Yurio seemed to sniff out that there was something off about Yuuri and kept pressing issues.
Yuuri was almost glad he would be seeing his doctor. He would get a night off and get to be…well not alone…but wouldn’t have to lie or make excuses; except he still had to make an excuse as to who the man was and why Yuuri wouldn’t be available that night. |
bee91add32c14963a3926680f514e8be | ['fa5398963c2a4c8ab6c86b4cb4e69259'] | Haruna watches Itachi warily, slipping the robe over her already-covered body and zipping it up. Once she's clothed, she slowly extracts herself from the blankets and crawls off of the bed, giving Deidara one last glance. She wants to thank him. She has so much more to say, to ask--but she's being dragged away from him now. She has no choice. She waves at him sadly before standing beside Itachi like he had requested. Deidara looks up at her with fearful eyes and says nothing.
"Haruna, go back to your room. I need to speak with you. But first...," Itachi steps further into the bedroom and taps the bed to make sure he knows where he is before travelling around it, and squatting down in front of Deidara, who gulps.
Haruna watches him, but leaves obediently afterwards, her face flushed and her heart beating relentlessly. She knows she must have done something very wrong for Itachi to speak to her like that.
Once the girl is gone, Itachi stares straight at Deidara--or at least, he hopes he does. "Do not underestimate me. I have many ways of torturing someone...and not all of those methods involve my eyes. I will _kill you_ if you touch her again." His tone is flat and cold, his every word articulated to perfection. He's not playing around. "Were you hurting her, Deidara?"
Deidara shakes his head wildly.
After a moment of silence, Itachi leans closer to him. "Answer me." His tone is dangerously low.
"I-I said no--I shook my head," Deidara stutters, slowly backing away from the older male. He's confused and intimidated by him--and absolutely not used to him acting this way. "I-I wasn't hurting her. She came to me on her own and said she wanted me to teach her--"
"That's enough. I don't want to hear anything else out of you." He stands, shaking his head in disbelief. He cannot believe Haruna would do such a thing, as innocent as she is. She probably doesn't even know anything about this. The thought of Deidara taking advantage of Haruna simply makes Itachi sick. He sends the boy a glare in warning, setting his jaw. He's furious. Livid. But he says nothing more. He turns and storms out of the room, leaving the blonde there on the floor to think about his actions.
\--
Haruna sits on her bed, thinking over everything that had transpired moments before, her hands wringing nervously. She cannot believe Itachi had caught her with Deidara--the thought sickens her. She replays the scene over and over in her head, feeling more and more embarrassment as time goes on. She feels as though she might throw up or pass out...whichever comes first. Her head is light, her heart unable to slow its beating rate. Her chest is tight, and her stomach is upset. Itachi had seen her...naked...with a man. She holds her head and tries to shove the image away, but to no avail. She'd had no idea that what she was doing would cause any trouble for them...or anyone else. She'd just wanted answers. It had been such a weird day for her.
Itachi finally steps into the room, shutting the door behind him. Haruna hears all this but does not look up. She's too ashamed to acknowledge him. She knows she's probably about to get a lecture, anyways, which she prepares herself for now, sighing softly and drawing her knees to her chest. Let him do his worst, she thinks. Maybe his lecture will get her back into place.
She begins to look on the incident with Deidara as a mistake, and regret joins up with shame to bear down on her so heavily, she feels like she's being crushed. She's done something awful...she's let someone touch her. Itachi is angry, so it must have been horrible.
_Oh, no. What have I done...?_
Her eyes begin to well with tears. This must be the end, she decides. _Something horrible is going to happen. I'm going to die. Itachi is going to kill me._
Instead, he clears his throat and speaks to her, his soft tone returning. "Haruna," he says. "Can you please tell me what you were doing with Deidara?"
Haruna slowly lifts her head, tears running down her cheeks as she stares up at Itachi. She's overcome with the strangest deja vu in that moment...she recalls something from her childhood. A time when something similar to this happened. She'd done something wrong, and he scolded her for it. He'd always been there to tell her right from wrong, when her mother wasn't around to do it. Many of her core morals had been formed thanks to him. It's as if he'd raised her. It's then that she realizes how much she's missed him. It only makes her cry harder. She lowers her head again and continues to sob, not answering Itachi's question.
Itachi frowns, concerned. "Haruna," he tries again. "Did he hurt you?"
"N-no, no he didn't," Haruna says between sobs. "I-I just...I...," she doesn't finish.
"You what?" Itachi prods her.
"I just--I--" she tries to speak, but there's a lump in her throat. She can hardly breathe. She begins to hyperventilate, panic settling upon her heavily. She's made a mistake. She's in trouble. Itachi's angry with her. _Itachi._ The one who never gets mad.
"You just, what?" Itachi asks, his tone never wavering, though he feels a twinge of impatience. He just needs to know what happen. He wants to hear it from her mouth that she'd gone to him on her own. He cannot bear the thought of Deidara forcing himself on her...and partly, he really doesn't want to kill the boy. But if that is really what happened, he might just have to.
“I-I was curious, okay?!” Haruna shrieks at him, her head flying up. She stares at him wildly as tears flow endlessly from her lavender eyes. “I-I-- I don’t know what’s wrong with me today…,” she sobs and whimpers, hugging herself tightly. | e2d482687bc64e8590edb36f8fda784a | ['fa5398963c2a4c8ab6c86b4cb4e69259'] | "You mustn't lose sight of your purpose," Sakon reminds him sternly. "Life in this village is little more than bondage for you... Sever your ties to this pathetic place. If you can do that, there will be no limit to the power you can wield. "
_No...limit?!_
With those words, the four leap into the night, shouting, "Remember your purpose!"
And so, young Sasuke is left alone in the darkness to consider...to weigh...to decide.
\--------------
"Where is he? He's late... Those fools, what's taking them so long?"
Orochimaru sits perched on his throne of rock within the deep recesses of his cave. His face is covered in bandages, his fist clenched tightly in frustration. He'd been waiting for _too long_ ; he was out of patience. He releases his fist and drums his fingers impatiently on the arm of his chair, huffing as he rests his cheek in his hand, glaring at his subordinate. "Well, Kabuto?!"
"Uh, m-my apologies, Lord Orochimaru," stammers the gray-haired man, nervously pushing his glasses up with his finger. "I'm not sure where they are at the moment—but rest assured, they should be arriving any time now."
The Snake Sage growls, unsatisfied with his response. "I've already had to take on another vessel instead because of them! Damn it all–" he pounds his fist on the chair and raises his voice. "–those imbeciles! Ruining my plans! I _told them_ I didn't have much time left!"
Kabuto steps closer to the throne and speaks in a calming and reassuring tone, offering his master an apologetic bow. "I'm deeply sorry for this, my
Lord—I'll make sure to punish them severely when they return!"
Behind the two, hidden back in the shadows, stands Haruna—her arms folded over her chest and her head hung low. She is completely silent, though she secretly finds amusement in Orochimaru's temper, as can be seen by the light smirk playing on her lips. She stands motionless as her master continues threaten Kabuto with more and more elaborate punishments. _Oh,_ _I'd love to see that_ , she spitefully thinks to herself. _Why not d_ _o us both a favor_ _and just kill him._
Then she cocks her head slightly as the sound of footsteps reaches her ears underneath her master's voice. A couple seconds later they grow loud enough for the two men to hear, and Orochimaru immediately calms down and straightens visibly. "That must be them," Kabuto growls. "You can take your anger out on them soon enough, my lord." Haruna watches intently for the four ninja to appear with their cargo, but instead a lone boy appears and stands in the doorway, his face hard and determined yet a little unsure.
After a moment of stunned silence, Orochimaru smiles and speaks. "Ah, my dear Sasuke. So you came to me after all, did you?" His tone is laced with smugness and utter delight.
The raven-haired boy hesitated slightly before saying, "I assume you're Orochimaru?" Haruna's heart skips when she hears Sasuke's voice. There is no mistaking it—it's him, though his face is barely recognizable to her.
"That's right. I am still recovering from my last transformation, but it is I. Tell me, where are the other ninja I sent to you?"
The boy responded, already sounding more sure of himself: "They stayed behind to fend off pursuers from the leaf. They told me they'd catch up, and knowing who was after us they should be along any minute." He walks into the room and stands before the throne.
Kabuto speaks up, distain permeating his voice. "Well, it doesn't matter what happens to them now. I hope for their sake they don't make it back, because I intend to punish them severely for taking so long to bring you here."
"What's important is that you came to me," Orochimaru asserts as he stands and approaches the boy, reaching out to touch his cheek. Sasuke jerks away from his touch with a scowl and immediately raises his voice.
"I did; I'm here. Now tell me how you're going to make me stronger!"
Angrier, full of uncontrolled emotion, but still the boy Haruna knew. She feels her stomach contract as a wave of sadness washes over her. Memories come flooding back; memories of living in the Hidden Leaf Village. Memories she'd hoped to never revisit.
_Why him?_ _Why here? Why now?_
Orochimaru lets out a deep, evil chuckle at the boy's explosive reaction and slowly takes his seat again. "I don't think mere words could express it," he tells him with a chuckle. "However—there is someone I think you might be quite interested in duelling."
"Haruna," Orochimaru calls to her. Haruna's head snaps up immediately. "Why don't you come out and introduce yourself?"
Haruna clenches her fist, but swallows her feelings as she steps into the light, approaching Sasuke slowly and carefully, standing to face him, barely a foot away. Sasuke looks her over, and she wonders if he recognizes her, as he doesn't seem to react to the sight of her. But then he says, at nearly a whisper, "It's been a long time... _Haruna_."
8. 遺事 1 (Memories pt. 1) |
cc4ff4dc83e740c484b4be554f382a94 | ['fa78b4e2da8b4fd09fa3d552b254ed7b'] | “Everyday after the incident Nikki has been cold, hard, and shut up. Nothing has ever made her go like this before.” Her Father said to the family Doctor. “Well, loss can do strange things to people.” The Doctor replied. “I know, but for eleven months?” Her Father asked worryingly. “Possibly her whole life as a matter of fact. After someone, especially at this age, loses someone they are very attached to they are very impacted. I’m surprised she has taken it this well. Usually with kids, they either become sad shut-ins, depressed, angry, violent, or all of the above. They rarely become a vegetable. Don’t worry too much about it.” The Doctor told the Father. Nikki’s Father just stared at the Doctor with big eyes and a gaping mouth. “How can I not worry too much about it?! I lost my wife and now my daughter…” Nikki’s Father trailed off.
“Look sir I don’t want to push but-” “Then don’t! Just don’t. I can’t take much more pain.” The Father interjected. “Well you could help Nikki by letting her do more of what she wants to do. As long as it’s not dangerous and as long as it doesn’t hurt her more…” The doctor suggested. “Like what?” The Father wondered. “Forsay, she can get a job.” The doctor suggested. “Hmm.. I don’t know if she’s ready for that.” Her Father thought. “It’s been eleven months! It’s time to let her do her thing.”
“Okay.” Her dad said as he sighed. “Nikki, could you come here please.” He called. “Sure.” She replied. “What.” She snapped. “I was wondering, and the doctor said that it may help, do you want to get a job?” Her father quietly suggested. “Why would I want to get a job? Also how exactly would it help me?” Nikki snapped. “Well I’m not sure. But I will figure it out. Hey! Your birthday is in a few weeks, what is going on that birthday list I wonder?” He asked with a smirk. At that she perked up so much it was like she was a whole new person.
After the doctor left Nikki and her Father started bonding for the very first time in a long time. They chatted about family and feelings. About Nikki’s mom. They cried. They laughed. It seemed so real. But it wasn’t. Nikki would never be the same. After she started to get out more, she started to snoop and learn about how to gather evidence and look for clues. Of course she got a job, but it was only to make her dad happy. She was counting down the days to her birthday and she was growing more and more excited every day. Not to mention more scared.
When her birthday passed and nothing happened Nikki grew confused. She expected the same of what’s left of people that robbed her to come back and finish them. Although she was confused she had found something. Someone had been watching her. He had been watching her since a few days after the “incident”. One day after the stalker lost sight of her she rounded her school building and stopped to make sure he followed her. He did. He followed her all the way to an empty alley where she flattened behind a dumpster and waited for him to go in front of it. When he did she tackled him and pinned him. “Who are you?! Why have you been watching me?!” She yelled. “I am the boy who got away.” He whispered.
“Why have you been watching me?” She asked now more wondering that mad. “Why not?” He riddled. “Stop playing and answer me! Why have you been watching me!” She was now more mad than confused. “Look I just wanted to learn more about you. I thought you would’ve died or become so shut up that you wouldn’t some outside after what happened.” “But you didn’t become that way. That makes you special, and I want to know why.” He firmly stated. All she could do was gape at him. “What? Did you really think that I would just run away?” At that he started to chuckle. “What in this world could possibly be so funny?!” She practically yelled. “Oh nothing… Just the fact that you are so gullible and so easy to distract.” He taunted.
He continued to chuckle as she quickly got up and started to become aware of her surroundings. There were two men blocking her exit into the street. “Crap.” Nikki whispered. “Oh and by the way, my name is Ed. Not that you needed to know, you’ll probably never see me again.He said. She bolted towards the men and as she ran she punched them both in the face with such velocity they fell on their butts. As she ran onto the streets she ran to her house and did not stop until she got there. She was breathing so heavily when she got there and slammed the door behind her.
Her dad ran into the room and asked “What’s wrong?” As Nikki sighed and slid down the door on her back she said, “Dad, you need to know something.” “What?” Her dad asked kindly. “Do you remember that third guy during that accident years ago? The one who got away?” Nikki said. “Yes.” Her dad replied sternly. “Well he has been following me ever since mom died. I don’t know why, but I am scared to go out now. I am going to find out why he has been following me for so long, dad. I know I will.” She trailed off. “No, you shouldn’t. You might get hurt, and I don’t want to lose you too.” He whispered. “Dad, I won’t get hurt. You know me, gone in a flash.” She said as she smiled. “Just be careful. Also no more going out tonight, it’s too late.” He compromised. “Alright, alright.” Nikki sighed.
So after a few more months of being careful of what she did, her follower finally left. Why did he leave? She doesn’t know. All Nicole knows at this point is that one this guy that has been following her for months left, and two her mother died. So she wants to find him and question him about what he never answered that one night when she almost got caught.
**Author's Note:**
> Should I edit the last paragraph and continue?? | c960cbaf7d7b431a9ca660c6ce5ffe48 | ['fa78b4e2da8b4fd09fa3d552b254ed7b'] |
When Nikki Willow Curtis was 15 years old, she had a very scaring and hard experience. She had a very hard time getting schoolwork done and staying focused on schoolwork. But, she always found a way to get it done. So she was a very good student. She often left her home to get away for a while. And to get away from the noise. So one day when she got home she stopped on the porch it was quiet… too quiet.
So she slowly opened the door and whispered, “Hello?” The door swung open and knocked her down. Out of nowhere a man in a mask was in the doorway holding a gun to her telling her, “Go inside and lay on the floor. On your stomach. Hands on the back of your head. If you do otherwise, you get shot.” She did as he said.
She look and saw her mom and dad doing the same. When they saw her they gasped. Turns out they thought that she was just hiding somewhere in the house. Her eyes were puffy. Her mom had been crying. Her mom stared at her and whispered, “At the first chance you run! You understand me?” Her mom said. “Shut it!” Said one of the three men.
She nodded her head at her mom. Her Mother sighed with relief. Man number one asked her Mother, “Is there anymore valuables in this god forsaken house?” Her Mother said, “No, but there is some trash that needs to be taken care of.” With that the man almost bashed her in the head with the gun but man number two told him to save that until the end so there wasn’t any screaming, because screaming ment the police. They did not want the police to ruin the whole operation. Evidently this “operation” was pretty important. But, Nikki didn’t yet know why…
“Do you want this operation to be ruined?! Do you want the boss to beat our heads in?! because I sure don’t!” The first man whispered to the second. “No I don’t but-” “No! Don’t you even say a word!” The first man tried to keep his voice a whisper. “I don’t understand…” “Why would you want to rob us of all people? We don’t have nearly anything as valuable as some people on this street.” Nikki said.
“Hey! It’s none of your business anyway! Now shut up before I shut you up myself!” After First Man said Nikki stuck her tongue out at him. He glared at her and bashed her head in, she screamed and it all went black for her. Her Mother gasped, stood up slowly and started hitting them alongside Nikki’s dad, who had a piece of pipe. When Nikki gained some consensness she watch them fight the robbers. “Wow, where did mom learn to fight like that?” Nikki thought.
When her Mother noticed that she was awake, she rushed to her side. “Are you okay?” Her Mother asked worriedly. “I don’t know… What’s happening?” Nikki mumbled. *Weow Weow Weow* Sounded a siren close by. Her Mother’s face sparkled with hope for their family- *BANG* Her Mother jolted then fell to the floor while Nikki screamed. What neither of them had noticed was while her Mother was distracted with Nikki one of the robbers had taken the advantage over Nikki’s Father and knocked him out. While one robber was still beating him the other had grabbed his gun and snuck up, out of sight, and shot Nikki’s Mother in the back. Right on her spine. “MOM?!” Nikki screamed.
The first man chuckled. The second man wasn’t really a man though, he was about Nikki’s age and stared bewildered at Nikki’s almost dead Mother. “No…” Nikki whispered. “NO!” She screamed and bounced up like nothing was wrong with her and started to rapidly punching and kicking the man like her Mother had been… but Nikki was now hitting him harder than her Mother. The gunshot had woken up her Father and he was now trying to catch the boy, but he escaped. Her Father ran to Nikki, still not knowing that his wife was quickly dying off.
After that man was knocked out Nikki collapsed. A flash of worry spread quickly over the Father’s face. All Nikki could do was face her Mother’s lifeless body… and weep. After the police came and took away the one man the police radioed an ambulance and Nikki told them of the third man, “Th-there was a third man.” At that a policeman grabbed a notebook and a pen and started to draw a description of what she described. “He didn’t wear a mask. Like he wasn’t worried about getting turned in.” She said confused. After the police thanked her and her dad, police radioed the hospital and an ambulance came and took Nikki, her dad, and her lifeless looking Mother to the hospital and there would be no charge because the surgeon and Doctor were close family, and said that they would pay for the medical bill for them all.
In the ambulance though, the medical personnel brought Nikki’s Mother back to consciousness and Nikki was overjoyed. Alas, it couldn’t last. During Nikki’s mother’s surgery to try to help her live she finally let go and told Nikki, “Stay strong. I love you.” And slipped away. After months of trying to get Nikki out of her shell, her Father fell worried and called a doctor. |
78594aa91dad4581a03acde37eb9eb14 | ['fa80e42fcf8b48e994c82887de0e284f'] |
1. Facing Finn
As the ship shuttered out of hyperspace, Poe’s stomach clenched. In front of him was the green, backworld planet that he’d been avoiding.
It was one of the Resistance’s most vital outposts, and home to a growing militia of natives who were key to their overall strategy in the outer rim. Yet in the months after Leia’s passing, Poe hadn’t visited this key asset even once. And if he was being honest, it was absurd.
They had been hard months. Losing their General less than a year after the rest of their leadership had been disastrous. And on a personal note, losing Leia had been emotional and demoralizing for everyone. Poe especially.
Still, the Resistance rallied around Poe’s command, and their goal had not changed: liberate the galaxy via scattered guerrilla warfare to chip away at the First Order’s supremacy.
He peered out the viewport at the massive world in front of him. So many planets, and each with millions of sentients-- all crying for their help. How could he ever liberate an entire galaxy when he could barely comprehend the size of it all? He was just a pilot...
“General?” Commander Connix broke him out of his trace, “8 minutes to the rendezvous.”
Poe nodded silently.
“He’ll be there,” Kaydel said confidently, as if to relieve his fear.
“I know, Commander.” He sighed. “That doesn’t make it any easier".
In his periphery, he could have sworn he saw her roll her eyes at him. But that would be very close to insubordination, and of course Kaydel knew better...
******
Planetside, Finn half-registered Rose’s comforting grip on his arm as he squinted into the sky.
He never knew what to expect when it came to the new General. They had an instant connection that seemed to go beyond the camaraderie of soldiers in battle, but Poe was always rushing. And now, after his promotion and Leia… It felt like all the rushing was a way to avoid him.
And Finn didn’t like it one bit.
Still, he had his pride. After he gently let Rose down in aftermath of Crait, everyone had expected him to pursue Rey. But she was a Jedi now, and his love for her was great enough to know she needed space.
So he had thrown himself into the mission: providing military strategy, supplies, and support for the local militia that was active on the planet.
It was thrilling work, and his fire for the Resistance had only grown. Still, he was lonely. His friendship with Rose was fond, but a little strained since his gentle rejection. Nothing compared to his deep devotion to Rey or Poe.
Speak of the bantha. As the U-55 transport shuttle came to a swift landing in front of him, Finn felt like he might jump out of his skin. There Poe stood. Right there.
He legs carried him before his brain caught up.
He was running.
And suddenly, Poe was running too.
They collided on the tarmac, all arms and smiles and “Buddy!”s. And if the hug lingered longer than strictly necessary, no one made any comments.
He smelled good. He felt good. And Finn could barely help himself as his nerves gave way to a burst of enthusiasm.
“Poe! I mean, General! How have you been?? Where have you been??” He tried not to lace that last question with accusation, and (mostly) succeeded.
“Finn! Buddy! You can always call me Poe.”
He grinned at each other like madmen.
“I’ve been busy. The Resistance is spread thin.” Poe said, almost self-consciously. “But I hear you’re doing big things here.”
Before he could answer in the affirmative, Rose was beside them with a somewhat forced looking smile. “General.” she said politely.
Poe didn’t share her reservation— he went in for a hug.
It was brief, but gave Finn time to notice a conspicuous absence.
“Poe?” he started, half afraid of the answer. “Where’s BB-8?”
Poe gave a slight chuckle, but he looked at Finn like he had just given him his firstborn.
“I miss him too. He went off with Rey a few days ago. Top secret mission. They’ve become… very attached.”
Finn smiled at the hint of jealousy in that last part. Him and that damn droid…
“Glad he’s ok. With things the way they are…”
Finn didn’t have the heart to finish.
“He’s fine, pal. I’ll let him know you asked.” He turned to Lieutenant— no, Commander Connix. “Let’s gather high command on the Holonet and set up a check-in.” He glanced back at Finn. “Then, it’s time to celebrate.”
******
The reunion couldn’t have gone better if he’d dreamed it— and by the stars, he had. Poe was elated at seeing his friend again, and was even happier that Finn seemed to miss him just as much.
Still, as he checked in with his recently-established high command, he couldn’t help but double-think the celebration he’d suggested.
So much time. So much socialization. So much potential for it all to go south…
Still, the troops needed a break. They had been working non-stop since they were assigned this planet, with little support from headquarters. They deserved a celebration regardless of Poe’s selfish concerns. And Finn was top of that list.
Over the past three months, Finn had proven himself a capable leader on and off the battlefield. He had gained the absolute trust of the natives here, and had advised them to multiple, high-profile victories.
Which made the next part so difficult.
The success of Finn’s strategies had captured the attention of the First Order— so much so that it threatened to jeopardize the mission.
Few but Poe knew it, but the Resistance was pulling out within the week.
So let them have one night of jubilation, Poe figured, before the shitshow begins. And if he and Finn get to spend a little extra time with the warm glow of reunion still kindled… no one could really fault his intentions. | fdf397c6a9b34c6999251aa98d6a392b | ['fa80e42fcf8b48e994c82887de0e284f'] | Bodhi had no idea where these creatures had come from, but there was no time to think. He watched as Darth Vader and his deadly entourage tore through them, spraying green blasts until there were barely six of them.
Chewbacca was first to the ramp, but he instantly turned around and drew his crossbow. Three Stormtroopers fell on the first shot. Vader deflected the next four with his blood-red blade.
Two reptilian-looking humanoids made it to the ship next. They looked at Bodhi, terrified. Bodhi could only look back at them helplessly.
One more alien died before all that remained made it aboard— raised with its feet off the ground and strangled without being touched.
Bodhi pounded the controls to the ramp as the Dark Lord drew ever nearer.
Bodhi and Chewie left the dwindled group near the storage area as they ran to the cockpit. Blaster fire rocked the ship, but the haul seemed to hold.
He knew what he had to do, but every part of his heart ached to do it.
He had to leave Luke behind. With that thing.
Chewie growled as his withdrew the landing gear, clearly worried about Han.
The last few blaster bolts made impact as _The Falcon_ rose above the facility. Chewie might be worried about Han, but Bodhi was worried about how the smuggler would react to seeing the new scorch marks on his ship.
As the facility grew smaller in the distance, Bodhi could hear the clicks and growls of alien languages behind him.
He didn’t know who they were, but now he was responsible for their safety.
He thought back to that voice in his head.
_“Bodhi, Help them.”_
If it was that important to Luke, then Bodhi would be damned if he didn’t do his best to help them.
Just then, _The Falcon’s_ alarms started to ding as a screen lit up red in alert. TIE Strikers. Three of them.
He knew he had to leave the atmosphere to get his new charges to safety.
He looked back at the facility, now far in the distance as they abandoned the fortified moon.
And just as he looked back, a massive explosion shot into the lower atmosphere and engulfed the facility in flames.
_Luke._
15. A Phantom Menace
It’s all dark. The universe feels empty. Bodhi reaches out his hand but there’s nothing to hold onto. Nothing solid.
He feels a warmth on his cheek. It’s comforting. He babbles something nonsensical. The warmth retracts.
A different sensation. Like flying a ship without controls. It’s jerky, like one of the engines is malfunctioning.
He calls out, but no one answers.
_Luke_
******
Shara and Kes manage to drag Bodhi to a bunk in _The Falcon_ , but it’s little use. He’s gone somewhere. Dead weight.
Shara looks at her husband, scared of what this might mean for Bodhi, but also scared of what it might mean for them. For the Rebellion.
“He’ll be fine.” Kes tells her, half convinced.
He puts a hand to Bodhi’s forehead. More mumbling.
Shara huffed, temporarily defeated. The only thing coherent Bodhi’s said so far is— well, no use dwelling on idle gossip. Plenty of time for that later.
Chewie growled from another compartment. He’d been growing more and more distressed since _The Falcon_ landed over a standard hour ago. Now his growls seemed almost as defeated as Shara felt.
Kes was no doctor, but his role as pathfinder often saw him treating injuries in the field. And he was supremely gentle, which helped.
Shara watched her husband as he delicately adjusted Bodhi on the bunk— taking the tight goggles off his forehead and setting them near his outstretched hands.
It felt almost wrong separating Bodhi from his goggles, Kes thought to himself. He’d rarely seen the young pilot without them. They were part of his identity.
Unfortunately, his current state was also a deeply entrenched part of his identity.
Kes and Shara knew little about Bodhi’s past; only as much as they had been able to observe from his nervous ticks and occasional breakdowns.
But this seemed different.
The couple looked at each other, uncertain of their friend's future.
*******
His forehead felt lighter than it had been in a long time.
He never used to scowl so much. Waves of light flashed in his memory— a happy childhood with fireworks and silly whispers and warm hugs.
Now his forehead feels empty without worry.
He tries to reach out and touch it, but his hands find something first. A familiar shape, but abstract— as if from another life.
He withdraws his hand, but the movement seems to have attracted attention.
There are voices in the distance. Soft but drenched in worry.
He wants to help them. He just wants to help.
“I’m the pilot” he whispers into the void.
He doesn’t know why he says it, but it seems to be the right answer. The voices grow louder, more hopeful. He tries another.
“I brought— the message.”
He hears a word. Over and over. But it’s not just a word, it’s a name. His name.
_”Bodhi.”_
He lifts a heavy eyelid, grumbling vaguely.
“Come back to us.” A soft, male voice calls.
Warmth. This time on his shoulder. He flinches, but it doesn’t leave. He’s glad.
He opens his eyes, and two humanoid shapes appear in front of him. Kes and Shara.
“Welcome back, friend.” Shara smiles.
Bodhi tries to return a smile, but it’s far more of a grimace.
“What happened?” He asks, more to himself.
Kes gently helps him upright, hand still on his shoulder.
The couple looks at each other, clearly worried. But not just about him. He knows that. Why does he know that?
_Luke._
It comes flooding back to him, and for a moment he feels like he might collapse again.
Just as his eyesight begins to blur, a loud growl pulls him back into the moment. |
09c26ebcf9694e80ba99dd9aaaa4607b | ['faad497616974833b3e8fef250ac56b5'] | Not Going To Beg
**Author's Note:**
> Part 2 of a mini-series wherein I try and gather my bearings as I settle into the Elementary fandom. Each drabble will be similar in style and in tone for the time being, until I feel more comfortable with more diverse styles. Baby steps...
There are things that Sherlock would do that he's approximately 98.42% sure no one else would do. Like willingly being kidnapped by a group of renegade Russian spies to time how fast he'd be able to escape. Sniffing the insides of shoes would also be up there as well.
But one thing he would not do is beg.
He's faced with an interesting conundrum now, however. Because time is running out and suddenly he begins to realize that the vintage salt and pepper shakers that Watson had decorated the kitchen with are gone, sees the newspapers turned to the Listings page. Where Watson will find board on the salary she's making right now, Sherlock has no idea, but he knows better than to doubt her abilities. This makes Sherlock somewhat uneasy, and he wonders how he's going to cope without Watson's fixation with supplying them both with coffee (it's funny, they both take their coffees the same way; black, two and a half sugars). He's quite sure that he'll be able to manage by himself, having successfully lived alone in the city for a while now, but he knows things have changed now.
And no matter how much Sherlock wants to believe that he's _quite alright, thank you_ , he knows he's not and it's not that Watson's going to fix him but at least when she's around he doesn't feel quite as helpless.
Oh yes, he wants her to stay, wants to lecture her about how really, she'd never be able to find better accomadations anywhere else, and how conveniently close the apartment is to the Tube (the _subway_ ), and a million other trivial reasons why staying would be so much better than leaving. He just won't say any of them.
Maybe he'll refuse to eat for three days straight or something. Play for time.
But Sherlock won't beg. | 49e00fda5ab6444f93c607f7ec60880b | ['faad497616974833b3e8fef250ac56b5'] | Let Them Down, Let Them Go
**Author's Note:**
> Short little drabble about Sam's choice during the finale. Just wanted to write angst and more angst because it's a finale dammit, there'll be feels and crying involved guaranteed.
>
> Been a while since I've written anything. First time for spn. Concrit welcome.
A part of Sam had always known that he wouldn’t be making it out of the trials in one piece. No matter what he told Dean, told Kevin, told everyone, told himself.
Because things don’t work that way. Never have, never will.
And it was okay. Sam was okay with it. He’d even go through with it, sign his own damn death sentence if it meant he left the world a better place than when he was still walking on it.
Because he knew all too well what a freaking blessing he’d been the past few years.
This wasn’t something he’d been planning on telling Dean, though. For obvious reasons, of course. Like hell Dean would ever agree to letting him complete the trials if he didn’t believe that Sam would make it out. And Sam needed to do them, had to be the one that sealed the gates. Poetic justice, maybe. Or maybe just a final act of penance.
But the other reason he’d never tell Dean was because finally he had the chance to make things right between them. To die a noble death, to die human, to die and never come back to fuck with Dean’s life again. To die and never let his big brother down again.
Sam won’t ever let his brother down again.
But Sam has his moments of weakness. Sam and his unending faith in the world, that they’ll _figure it out, just like they always did_. Sam and the way he can’t help but want to fall into Dean’s arms and just _let go_.
So as Sam fights for breath and struggles against the excruciating pain that night, he watches as the last of his faith comes raining down from the skies in tragic bursts of light.
He can’t help but think that maybe he’d let them all down again. |
98ba6911bcc34f738b787029f1212953 | ['fabcd8b6676d4c1f9491bd9ef29cba94'] | Is This Real?
**Author's Note:**
> Hello, enjoy!
The moon shown bright upon the gentle waves that lapped at the sand surrounding a giant 'T' in the middle of the ocean. Inside the 'T', three titans slept soundly. Raven was not one of them.
She sighed quietly and began to make her way to the kitchen, hoping a cup of warm tea could lull her to sleep. Her socked feet padded almost inaudibly throughout the hallways.
The automatic doors swished open smoothly, Raven stepped into the kitchen and couldn't help but let a tiny smile curl at her lips.
"Of course you're awake." Robin could only chuckle at her statement.
Her turned towards her, leaning on the counter with a cup of coffee between his gloved hands. Raven made her way towards him with a now small frown.
"You don't always have to be in your uniform, Dick." she murmured softly, reaching her hands up to his face and gently took of his mask. Sharp blue eyes stared into soft violet. She then took off his green gloves, her fingers slowly trailing his. With a soft exhale of breath, Dick took her hands in his, bringing them to his mouth to gently kiss.
"I just want to be ready." He whispered against her hand, his eyes meeting her's. She ran her other hand through his hair,
"I know."
He released her hand and set his cup of coffee down before embracing her. Her arms wrapped around his neck and his around her waist. Slowly they swayed, relishing in each other's silent comfort. They pulled back, although reluctant. Dick cupped her face with his calloused hands. Raven sighed and closed her eyes, gently kissing his palm. When she opened her eyes, his were staring at her, brimming with love.
"Raven.." He leaned in and their lips met in a soft embrace.
"Dick." She whispered against his lips.
They exchanged a few more kisses, soft but full of love. She pulled away and laughed softly when he tried to follow.
"Dick."
"Hm?"
"Your coffee is probably cold now."
He raised his eyebrow at her before chuckling. He stole a kiss before turning away. She smiled at his back.
"Goodnight, Dick."
"Goodnight, Raven."
She walked away, back to her room.
That was one of the best nights of sleep she ever had. Even without her forgotten tea.
**Author's Note:**
> Thank you for reading! Constructive Criticism is very much welcomed. Also, sorry it's so short!! | a0124a7927d34c96bd1b898e9512185c | ['fabcd8b6676d4c1f9491bd9ef29cba94'] | Marco turned on Connie to tell him to be quiet but he was too late as a groan sounded from behind him. Everyone turned to look at the bed and watched as Jean's tight grip on Eren loosened.
The two-toned male's eyes scrunched up before they opened sleepily. He stretched before trying to sit up but the weight on his chest preventing him from doing so.
Eren also stirred- but only because of the movement of the other male he was currently laying on.
" Morning Gays!" Reiner happily greeted with hearty laugh. The other boys also laughed or snickered.
Jean and Eren both shot up at that, Jean slamming his head on the bunk above him. He cursed before turning and glaring at the crowd of boys surrounding him and Eren. He just grumbled while Eren sat on Jean's lap red faced.
" Would you all just fuck off?" Jean growled. " Don't we have breakfast soon? Go get ready and leave us alone."
The other boys all giggled and walked away and began getting ready for the morning.
Jean turned to Eren, who was still sitting on his lap and smiled softly.
" Do you feel alright this morning?"
Eren nodded and yawned.
Jean smirked, " Your breath smells like horsecrap."
" You look like horsecrap, Horseface!" Eren glared.
" WHAT THE FUCK!" Connie screeched.
**Author's Note:**
> Thanks for reading! R&R is welcomed but flames will be used to roast marshmallows. Constructive criticism is also welcomed. |
933f077966834191a47b762e3e423d47 | ['facbac85acf94f2aa4899cf04e034a3b'] | Run
_I wanna watch you undress_
Natsu pulled the straps of Lucy’s dress down her shoulders, caressing the skin of her arms. The fabric pooled around her bare feet as she pushed Natsu’s jacked away from his muscular chest. Her hands trailed down his chiseled form, gripping his belt and pulling his body toward her own.
_I wanna watch you glow_
Their kiss was searing, electric, explosive. Tongues clashed in a sensual dance. Natsu walked Lucy backwards until her back hits the wall. Her small hands reached out again, fumbling with the last article of clothing keeping her from Natsu. He picked her up as his pants fell, and wrapped her legs around his waist, carrying her to the bed, and flopping down on it so that Lucy was on top.
_Let your hair down, all around, and cover us both_
Lucy’s hair fell in a curtain around their faces. Their kisses grew desperate, until, finally, Lucy pulled away. Straddling Natsu, she reached behind her back, unhooking her bra, and discarding it across the room. Natsu sat up, capturing Lucy’s mouth with his once more
_You come in a wave, we crash and we roll_
Natsu flipped them, so, this time, he was on top. Somehow, he had gotten rid her panties, and he ground his pelvis into Lucy’s. The heat and friction caused by made Lucy gasp, and Natsu, deciding that he quite liked that sound, repeated the action. He moved one hand down and fondled her breast, and the other to caress her sex.
_You surround me, pull me, drown me, swallow me whole_
Natsu pushed a finger inside Lucy, using his thumb to rub her clit. She let out another sound that Natsu decided he liked, so he continued to thrust his finger into her, curling it and adding another. He reached that magic spot that made her squirm and pounded it. She came hard on his hand.
_You pull me in close, you buckle my knees_
Lucy was still shuddering from her first orgasm as Natsu pulled her legs up so her knees were on either side of her chest. He left open mouthed kisses trailing down her throat, stopping to nip here and there, visibly marking her as his. He paid special attention to her breasts. He had always loved them, as much as he loved the rest of her. He continued downward.
_I shake and I shiver just to feel you breath_
Lucy shuddered as Natsu dragged his mouth down her oversensitive body. Hot breath ghosted down her torso until he reached her navel, and dipped his tongue in. He stopped at a scar on her hip.
_You trace my lines, stirring my soul_
He outlined the scar with his lips, as if kissing it would make it fade. It had quite the opposite effect. The skin there was extra-sensitive. A warm feeling jolted into Lucy like a kick to the stomach, but much, _much_ more pleasant.
_Shoot sparks at the heart of the world and I watch it explode_
His hot mouth found her aching sex. Lucy felt an electric pleasure shooting through her veins. Natsu continued to lick, suck, and nibble until she came undone again. She pulled him back up, connecting their lips in a desperate, hungry kiss. One hand moved down his chest, tracing his muscles, before gently gripping his member and guiding it home.
_I’m amazing when you’re beside me and I am so much more_
Natsu took Lucy in one, sharp thrust, burring himself inside her. Lucy dug her fingers into his shoulders at the sensation.
_And I feel your finger pound like thunder and I am so much more_
Natsu fingers dug into Lucy’s hips, as he felt her reach a third orgasm. He wasn’t far behind her. As he reached his end, Natsu collapsed on top of Lucy, and she clung to him, each riding out their own pleasure.
_Turn, turn, turn, turning me on like a slow fire burn I know that it’s wrong still I run, run, run, right back to you_
They hadn’t talked about it. It just happened. Like everything about Natsu and Lucy, they did things their own way, while it might seem wrong to some, it wasn’t to them.
_You’re turning me on_
“I love you,” Natsu murmured.
“I know,” Lucy replied, “I love you, too.”
_Like slow fire burn_ | fe6ab0258e6246d0a9e91cfb8f7d6d95 | ['facbac85acf94f2aa4899cf04e034a3b'] | Letters
1 July, 1916
My Dearest Lucy,
The effort toils on and I fear it will have no end. Life in the trenches is not a glorious as I thought it would be. You were right, Luce. But, then again, you always were smarter than the rest of us. I wish I had the words to tell you how much I love you, but I’ve always been a man of action. I do though. I love you more than anything in this world or the next.
God, I hope I make it back to you soon. Don’t worry about me, Luce. I will make it home to you eventually. Until then, I’ll try to be patient and follow orders. The Germans will be on the run soon, I’m all fired up!
Love,
Natsu
PS – Happy birthday!
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
13 December, 1916
Dear Natsu,
The women of Magnolia have knit socks for the solders, I think you’ll know the one’s I made especially for you. Things here are tense at best. There are several men who haven’t enlisted are being harassed by the White Feather League. I think it’s disgusting, what they’re doing. Just because someone chooses not to fight, it doesn’t make them a coward. And who cares if they are cowards?
I hate this war. I hate what it’s done to our country. But what I hate most is that it’s taken you away from me. I miss you, Natsu. I miss you so much! I miss your bright grin, and your infectious laughter. I miss your warmth. I pray every day that you’ll come back to me safe.
I love you. More than life, itself. I have loved you since forever, and I will for the rest of my life, and in the next, for all of eternity. I love you, so stay safe for me. If anything happened to you, I don’t know what I’d do.
Write soon!
Whit all my heart,
Lucy
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
25 July, 1917
Dear Luce,
I don’t know when I’ll be able to write again. There’s a lot of noise, and it’s hot as hell, and muddy as fuck in this trench. I’m surprised I was able to find some clean paper to write on. You’re the only thing that keeps me going, Luce. This war is stupid and pointless. Neither side is winning, and all any of us solders want to do is go home. We can’t, though, not yet. Not until every goddamn enemy is dead. But at least you’re safe.
If I don’t make it, don’t cry. I hate it when you cry. I’ll try to make it back to you, but I want to say goodbye just in case. I’ll always be with you, Luce. Always.
Love,
Natsu
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
1 November, 1918
Dear Natsu,
I hope this letter finds you. All the other’s I’ve sent have come back. Where are you, Natsu? Are you alright? Are you hurt? No one will tell me anything. We shouldn’t have waited for the war to end to get married. Then, maybe someone would tell me something. Come back to me, Natsu. The war is almost over. Be safe.
I love you.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
On the 11th of November, Lucy got an answer. Natsu, having been hit in the head with shrapnel, was in a war hospital in France, and couldn’t remember anything. It was a coincidence that he even received her last letter at all, so his doctor sent Lucy a quick telegram, explaining his situation. The doctor neglected to tell her that Natsu was also suffering from severe shellshock, as well as mustard gas burns around his eyes. It was a miracle that he hadn’t gone blind.
Lucy rushed to the hospital in France, and found her love in a terrible state. He didn’t recognize her. He was quiet. He was scarred. But, unlike Natsu, Lucy was patient. Slowly, Natsu stopped flinching at every bang he heard. He started to relax. He started to remember.
Several years later, after Natsu had fully recovered from the war, he married Lucy. They lived happily ever after. |
518e4c6fdc064e7f931c91fc240e1ba6 | ['fae1a6c8a0f741aa9ae2322ddb358704'] | “I see.”
The silence that followed felt uncomfortable, it was the kind they’d shared when they’d only just met. Hawke had flirted clumsily even then.
“Is there something you need help with? You need only ask.”
“Not currently.”
“You came just to see me?” Hawke asked feigning confidence she was certain she’d never feel again.
“I did,” Fenris said, voice low.
Hawke had dropped her tea cup, the contents spilling down the front of her robes. She swore and set the empty cup back on its saucer with a clatter. “Would you like to stay for lunch?” Hawke cleaned the stain and dried her robes with her magic. When she looked up, Fenris was staring at her frowning. “Is there something wrong?”
“Your magic is different now,“ he murmured.
"Different how?”
“Any magic cast near me ripples the veil, I can always feel it tug at the brands on my skin.”
“And my magic no longer does that?”
“Try again? Something small, if you please.”
Hawke let a flame dance across her palm and looked up at Fenris hopefully.
“Stop,” he ground out.
“I can refrain from using magic in your presence in the future if it makes you uncomfortable, Fenris.” She’d been so cautious in her casting before, relying instead on simple bolts aided by her staff and the occasional healing or barrier spell.
“Is it blood magic? Not you too,” Fenris looked ill at the notion.
“It’s not blood magic! After everything with my mother, you think I’d resort to such a thing?” Andrea felt as sick as Fenris looked.
“I can see no other option. What is it if not blood magic? A contract with some demon? Tell me truly, are you still the Hawke I knew?”
“Leave,” she choked out. “If all you’re here to do is to accuse me- just leave. If you actually need something, perhaps you’ll have a cooler head tomorrow.” Hawke rubbed at her eyes.
Fenris slammed the door behind him after he’d left. She should have told him the truth of it. Though telling him after he’d left her that night seemed the worst sort of manipulation. Andrea climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin.
When she awoke it was to Orana’s worried cries as she shook her awake. “Mistress, are you alright? Should I call for Messere Anders? Are you unwell?”
“I’ll be fine. I promise.” Andrea slipped into unconsciousness longing for a comfort she’d never know; Fenris’ arms around her.
* * *
“I wonder how Fenris is doing,” Isabela mused. Hawke and the rest of her companions were playing Wicked Grace in her estate, the wine cellar properly raided for such an occasion. “He hasn’t been to one of our game nights in some time.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” Hawke replied with feigned disinterest.
* * *
Sebastian pulled Hawke to the side after everyone had left. “A word, Hawke?”
She nodded and led him to her study.
“So what did you want to discuss, Sebastian? None of our friends are harassing you I hope.”
“No more than usual, and nothing I cannot handle. Instead I thought to ask if you wanted to talk about whatever it is that’s bothering you. We can call it confession if you’d like, regardless I swear to keep whatever you say between the two of us.”
“Thank you, Sebastian. That really means a lot to me,” she said while sniffling a little. “Is tonight alright?” She whispered.
“Of course.”
“Where to start,” she chuckled nervously. “I’m in love with Fenris.”
“To an outsider it appears that he feels quite strongly for you as well, Hawke.”
“We were together, intimately, for the first time almost a year ago.” _Not that she’d kept track, what a foolish thing to do._ “He expressed concern over things moving too fast, that it was too much. Then he left. A few weeks later I’d learned that I was pregnant.”
Sebastian went a bit pale. “Was that before or after you fought with the Arishok?”
“I didn’t keep it, suppose it was for the best.” She remembered dangling on the end of the Arishok’s blade, the scar spanned from just under her breast to her opposing hip. The wound likely would have snuffed out the life of such a newly formed babe. Sebastian visibly relaxed. “Sometimes I wonder if I could have done something different. Perhaps he would have stayed by my side if I’d said the right thing, if I hadn’t asked him to stay the night. Just another regret to add to the long list of my life,” she finished bitterly.
“We cannot change the past, that much is true. Have you tried speaking to Fenris about it?”
Hawke shook her head. “I can’t imagine it’s a night he looks on fondly, not any more. I didn’t want him to relive it. He’d said he’d regained his memories but that the harder he tried to grasp at them the faster they slipped away like water in an open palm. I can’t imagine what that must have been like for him.”
“I could try asking him about his intentions, if that is amenable.”
“Just promise me one thing?”
“Anything.”
“Don’t tell me what he says. At this point I’m not sure which would be more disappointing,” Hawke grimaced.
“Even if he responds favorably?” Sebastian's brows arched upwards.
“Don’t push him into things he doesn’t want, please. I understand that I haven’t been quite the same since, but I would imagine it would only lead to heartbreak for us both.”
“As you say, Hawke.” Sebastian smiled sadly and squeezed her hand before he left.
* * *
Sebastian waited a week before he paid a visit to Fenris.
“I simply wish to know what your intentions with Hawke are,” Sebastian repeated.
“And as **_I’ve_** said, it’s none of your concern,” Fenris spat. | 91c0e55fa59740f387d1d678e943e6a7 | ['fae1a6c8a0f741aa9ae2322ddb358704'] |
Make A Girl Go Crazy
“Kadan,” Bull murmured into her ear. “How would you feel about me spreading you open on my cock right here?”
Moira groaned.
He pushed her hard against the wall behind the tavern. They were still quite well hidden from prying eyes. Her arms were raised above her head and her wrists held tightly in one of his large hands. “That’s not an answer, use your words,” he smirked.
“Please,” she whispered. Bull waited patiently for her to fully vocalize her needs. “I want you to fuck me. Right here.”
“Anything else, kadan?”
“Can I pretend to struggle?” she asked, suddenly feeling shy and averted her gaze.
“Good girl,” he murmured. He kissed her forehead and released her wrists. “On your knees.” He said firmly.
She dropped to her knees and reached for his belt. “Did I say you could use your hands?” He chuckled softly. He removed his belt and it fell to the ground.
She rubbed her cheek against his cock through his pants and groaned in delight.
She nodded and went to work. She tugged his trousers down with her teeth and watched as he kicked off his boots.
Starting with the base, moving his half hard cock until it lay across her face. She lapped at it, eager to wrap her lips around the head.
“Get it wet,” Bull said, his voice going husky.
Bull tugged at her hair guiding her to lick at his frenulum. He hummed his approval when she sucked on it. “Good girl.”
Moira jerked her head away. “I’m not a dog,” she spat.
“You don’t wanna be my little bitch?” He countered. It made her pause. “I’ll treat you right. I’ll even use lube when I split you open.” He smirked. “Would you like that? My thick cock spreading your tight cunt. Not sure you can take it all.”
“I’ve seen bigger. Taken bigger,” she said, nose in the air even as he held her hair tight in his fist.
“Then you’d have no problem with me shoving you against the wall right now? An expert such as yourself can handle it.” He tugged at her hair until she stood. Bull pushed her against the wall and unlaced her pants. They fell to the ground without a sound. Bull tore off her smalls and grinned when she spat out curses at him.
“You got a mouth on you. Should I train that out? What a sight you’d be, fucked into submission, docile as I please,“ Bull groaned and thrust his hips against her. He turned her over and pushed her face against the cold stone. "You know your safe word, kadan,” he murmured.
Moira nodded and braced her hands by her head against the wall.
Bull kissed the back of her neck. She heard the swing of his arm through the air and felt the resounding crack against her backside. He kept an erratic rhythm, fast and slow, hard slaps and soft caresses. It made her dizzy with want. Her breaths were shallow and she trembled at his every touch.
“Where’d all that fire go?” He hummed.
“Please,” she whined.
“Please what? C'mon tell me what you want.” He teased at her slit with his fingertips.
“Please stop,” she whispered.
He grinned and slapped her ass several times in quick succession. She caught herself arching her ass backward into the pain even as the rest of her body curled in on itself.
“Pretty as a painting,” Bull growled, and finally he thrust a finger into her cunt. He got to his knees behind her and kissed her bruised cheeks; his mouth and tongue felt coarse on the sensitive skin. His tongue prodded at her asshole and she swore softly.
He fucked her ass with his tongue and pumped his fingers in and out of her cunt. She had two choices, to either cry out and hope no one would come near or to bite back the screams of pleasure that sat on the back of her tongue. Bull made the decision for her when he stood and covered her mouth with his free hand.
“Be a good girl and spread yourself open,” he said softly. His fingers were still toying with her cunt; he’d drained all the fight from her. She kept one hand on the wall, with the other she reached down and spread her lips apart. “That’s my girl.” He pulled his fingers free and bent to rescue a vial of oil from his trousers and slicked up his cock. He lined the bulbous tip with her opening and teased at it with shallow thrusts.
She tried to protest but her words were muffled by his large hand.
He grinned wickedly and thrust inside her in one long, slow stroke. Her ass met his pelvis and she groaned, nearly going cross eyed. ‘Fuck, he’s so big,’ she thought, not for the first time. Bull laid a hand over her mound, sliding up until he could feel her stomach distend with every rock of his hips. “Gorgeous, my gorgeous girl,” he crooned. Her muffled cries drove him on, harder until she was bucking in his arms from the force of his thrusts. “Fuck,” he growled. “Gonna fill you up with my cum, fit to bursting. Do you think it’ll take?”
She groaned and shook her head.
Moira felt herself unraveling as he murmured a mix of praises and promises in her ear. She came before he did, his wicked fingers danced over her clit, stroking it slowly; a stark contrast to the cruel rhythm of his hips. Bull bit down on her shoulder as he came.
Without a word, he pulled out of her and laid her on the ground over his trousers. He pushed her legs over his horns and licked her clean until she came twice more.
“How was that, kadan?” He asked smugly, his cum and hers ran slick over his chin.
“Too much, **far** too much. I’ll have to execute you at dawn. For crimes against the Inquisitor,” she huffed.
Bull laughed and leaned up to press his lips to hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his bulk on top of her.
“No, it was perfect,” she said, unable to keep the grin from her face. “It’s always perfect.”
“Hm, I’ll have to work on it. You can still form complete sentences.” He frowned.
She giggled and pulled him down for another kiss. |
fde38a7f040d4874be9698cd5407f5f9 | ['faea02b584b74fd2a955a0ed8fe247d1'] | In many ways the child resembled the doctor's younger naive self, before the devil Saki brought misery upon his life and took away his innocence along with it. Maybe that was why Muraki adopted such a fixed fascination with this stupid little thing.
No.
There was also something else.
The doctor's thoughts wandered towards his own mother's fascination with dolls and looking at this creature's untarnished beauty allowed him to understand the appeal. How was such purity preserved despite being tainted with the taste of flesh and blood lust? It was like observing a butterfly preserved for eternity in clear resin.
"Stop wriggling boy."
"No! Stop it! Stop it! Get your filthy hands off of me!"
The Doctor sighed as the creature continued to fight back. It was beginning to become a strain to keep him there. There was really only one annoying quality that the boy possessed. His defiance. But that characteristic also had its charms. No matter how many times he broke the boy he could always fix him now thanks to his immortality. It was a fun game that they would always play. Hisoka was the perfect plaything for Muraki. The perfect toy. Perfection in the finest, purest form of innocence.
Now Mr. Tsuzuki was a different story. The shinigami radiated a different type of perfection. Muraki glanced at the sleeping form of the man, who lay splayed out on the sofa wearing a purple disheveled kimono to match those brilliant eyes of his under closed eyelids. The brunette's head was tilted to one side exposing a delicious marked tanned neck and the kimono parted open to reveal his collarbone and chest. The doctor's eyes lingered on the exposed skin with a ravenous look. To the doctor, the older shinigami was the perfect specimen body; strikingly beautiful and well formed. Furthermore what really interested the doctor was that Tsuzuki was a contradiction. How did such good energy resided in the soul of somebody who was a half demon, the embodiment of darkness. It made Muraki want to corrupt Tsuzuki's sickening good consciousness.
Since Muraki had gotten distracted, Hisoka had managed to break free from the man's grip and flew off his lap to run and stand in front of his unconscious partner. The Doctor watched in amusement as the child stood in a defensive stance to protect his partner in case the 'insane' Doctor chose to make a move.
"You are not having him. I'll kill you if you touch him. Don't underestimate me Muraki."
Muraki shook his head disapprovingly. "My, my. What a glare. You have a lot of energy tonight I see."
His eyes trailed hungrily down the green kimono that had become undone when the boy had broken free from his grasp. He had a thing for interesting eye colour. Like with Tsuzuki's kimono, the boy's kimono matched the fierce emerald gems that were glaring at him like no tomorrow. He wondered whether he should let the boy know that he had purposely replaced their bathrobes with the beautiful kimonos that they currently wore.
Hisoka noticed the way the doctor was staring at his body and quickly covered up, tying the sash around his mid waist tightly. Then he wiped his face fiercely staining the green material. "You are sick."
The Doctor released a sigh and placed the eyeliner on the table next to him. He had tried to put some make up on the boy, not for the purpose of enhancing his beauty since the boy was a natural beauty, but simply because he became curious on whether it would enhance this doll like delicacy. Next to the eyeliner was a broken lipstick. The boy had broken it in half with a bite when Muraki had tried to put it on those already pink lips. What a waste of effort really.
"So disobedient. I will take great delight in disciplining you." He purred.
"Fuck you- agh!" Hisoka fell to his knees and grasped his trembling shoulders. His body was burning all over. It hurt, oh god how it hurt. Every nerve in his being was on fire. The Kimono slid off one shoulder to reveal angry red glowing markings etched on his pale skin.
"Can you feel the curse mark caressing your skin? If you are good then I can teach you such pleasurable things."
The pain dulled down although it did not fully leave but another sensation like the tickle of feathers brushing across your skin or the flutter of butterfly wings began to linger. This was a devastating change for Hisoka who unconsciously welcomed the comfort and felt his body heating up with need.
"The sensation is supposed to mirror my fingers but with the curse that binds us together I can also stimulate every fiber in your body. Do you feel it?"
The sensations doubled making Hisoka let out an embarrassing sound and he could feel his arousal starting to grow. In a matter of seconds it became painful and the need for relief was causing the blonde's fingers to twitch. Hisoka placed his clenched fists on the floor for support and refused to give in to the sensations. Then he felt the waves of lust and dark intent growing stronger and more suffocating. He almost did not hear the footsteps approaching. A shadow loomed over the suffering boy. Cold fingers lifted his head up by grasping his chin. | 8e2ed72231e94b26bf7820f8ace703e9 | ['faea02b584b74fd2a955a0ed8fe247d1'] | "Let him. He'll know his place soon enough."
Jack frowned and looked around desperately for escape. The door was the only way and there was no chance of reaching it with those two in here. He was overpowered. Suddenly a hand reached out and jerked the boy's chin towards the sailor near the bed.
"He's got a nice face this one." chuckled the sailor, eyeing the boy with a predatory look. He put a thumb on the boy's quivering rosy bottom lip. Jack started and pulled away, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. The sailors laughed harshly.
Without warning, the door opened and in walked in Cal. The sailors went silent immediately. He looked around disinterested until his eyes fell on the flustered boy. He scanned the boys form that was tense like a cobra ready to strike. He smirked.
"Let's have a talk. Lovejoy, keep guard."
The door shut and the sound of a key twisted until the lock settled into place.
Silence.
Jack's skin was prickling with goosebumps. The room was cold and something dangerous lurked in the air. What were they going to do with him? Cal made his way to the armchair and sat down casually. He looked at the boy again.
"Name?"
The blonde narrowed his eyes. It would not be wise to intimidate them. "Jack Dawson."
"Slav? British?"
"Wisconsin and Italian."
"Ah." Cal raised an eyebrow and took out a cigarette. He pointed the case at Jack who just looked at him. "Come on gentleman. Release the boy. He's a hero tonight." He smirked around his cigarette.
He eyed the boy warily. Despite his poor clothing and messy appearance, the boy had something appealing about him. He had blue eyes, golden hair, fair skin and a lovely face that could melt the heart of any woman. Yes, Jack Dawson was certainly a beauty in disguise of his social class.
One of the sailors came over and took off his handcuffs. He stood too close for Jack's comfort the whole time and had traced a finger up his spine quickly after he was done. Jack stiffened noticeably, making Cal tilt his head in curiosity. The boy took the offered cigarette with shaky fingers and lighted it. He then rolled it around his tongue. Cal watched the rolling motion as a warm heat pooled in his neither regions.
"So Mr. Dawson wasn't it? What made you think that you could ever get close to someone like my fiancé."
Dawson gave a shaky exhale of smoke. The cigarette had calmed his nerves slightly, but not a lot. "Like your fiancé said, sir, she slipped."
Cal laughed and shook his head, "Of course she did. Of course she did."
Jack folded his arms and looked at the man through the smoke and his blonde bangs. "I won't speak to her."
The brunette gave him a hard look. "Of course you won't." he inhaled and exhaled, watching the smoke disperse in the tense air about them.
"After I'm done with you tonight."
At this Dawson widened his blue eyes and the cigarette fell from his mouth. One of the sailors caught it and continued smoking it since the last one had already finished. The sailor looked at Cal and the man nodded.
"Hold him."
Jack made a bolt for the door. It was useless. The muscular sailor next to it caught him by the wrists and pulled them behind his back. Jack struggled, his heart was thumping like a time bomb and cold sweat slithered down his back.
Shit. Shit.
"Please sir, you're mistaken!"
Cal glanced at the boy with a bored expression but there was a curious look in his eyes. He jerked his head to indicate to the sailor to come closer.
"Am I really?"
"Yes! I haven't done anything wrong!" the blonde youth begged as he was brought to his knees next to the man's arm rest. Cal looked down with a predatory grin and ran his hands through the blond locks of hair, enjoying the way the boy stiffened at his touch. He gripped the young boy's chin and tilted it up.
"Boys like you need to learn their place in this world. This is where you belong. On your knees before me. Below me and any other girl like Rose. _Under-stand_?" The older man bit out the last word. Jack shivered.
Cal narrowed his eyes and gripped the boy by the back of his hair and pulled him up to face level. Jack yelped in pain. Cal savoured the terrified look in his victim's eyes before pushing his mouth sensually against the boy and forcing his tongue between those pretty lips. Jack's cry was muffled.
* * *
So what did you think about the fanfic? I would love to hear your thoughts. |
b25d28f79ea24a5aa01240d434649c3e | ['faedc599171642179c3d3ed5ef737029'] |
Eclipsed
**Author's Note:**
> Written for the Get Fraser Laid challenge, prompt: Fraser/Fraser's right hand - imagining his two Rays together (before they ever meet in CotW). Some dialogue taken verbatim from the first two episodes of S3. Thanks to Malnpudl and Beledibabe for beta.
My heart beats faster as I climb the pole to take the call from Chicago - not from the exertion, but from excitement. Of course I'm enjoying being back in Canada, out in the wild and open country that I love so well. As a place, Chicago has nothing to compare with the Northwest Territories. But Chicago has one thing Canada doesn't have, and my heart swells with anticipation as I connect the telephone. "Hello, Ray?"
"Hey, Benny," says a familiar voice, and I smile for a moment as the pure pleasure of hearing him again sweeps through me. "How's the vacation going?"
"It's everything a Mountie could ask for, Ray. Lots of fresh air, plenty of exercise. How are things in Chicago?"
"Well, you know, Benny. Chicago's Chicago." Then his voice changes subtly. Maybe someone else wouldn't notice, but I do. I barely hear him say that he might not be able to pick me up; I'm listening to his tone, to the nuances that tell me unmistakably that something is wrong.
But I hear what he says next, and it sends a chill down my spine. "We have this thing called friendship," he says, his voice catching oddly on the words, and suddenly it all becomes clear. Somehow Ray has guessed my secret, a secret I'd guarded as carefully as I could from everybody, but most especially from him.
My thoughts race in circles. Had I been too unguarded when I'd said goodbye? Had my correspondence betrayed my thoughts? Or had he simply applied to me the skills he used in analyzing the motives of others, and discovered the truth? I wait for his next words, hardly daring to breathe.
"You understand that, uh, I will be in touch," he says.
"As a friend?" I say carefully. Surely Ray wouldn't deny our friendship, even over a matter such as this.
"Yeah, Benny. As a friend."
I disconnect the telephone. He knows. He knows that I think of him as more than a friend. That I…want him as more than a friend.
Over the past year, as I had come to realize my feelings, I had done my best to hide them, certain that Ray would feel uncomfortable if he knew. I had no intention of jeopardizing our relationship. Even if it wasn't everything I would have wanted, in an ideal world, it was enough. I was content - more than content - with our friendship.
But if Ray had guessed, then our friendship might be at risk. I would have to be cautious, when I returned to Chicago; I'd have to reassure Ray that despite what I felt, I'd never act on those feelings.
Even though late at night, in the darkness of my room, I sometimes imagine Ray's face, his hands, his body.... It is shameful, perhaps. But it is less shameful than allowing my desires to destroy our relationship. And Ray need never know.
It will be difficult and embarrassing, but it must be done: when I return to Chicago, I'll talk to Ray. We'll get this - this misunderstanding - straightened out.
* * *
But Ray isn't in Chicago. Oh, there's someone at his desk, someone who calls himself Ray Vecchio, a blond man who inexplicably hugs me and smiles broadly and casually slides himself into the driver's seat of Ray's beloved automobile. But he isn't Ray, isn't _my_ Ray, even though everyone at the police station treats him as such.
Still, it is exhilarating to be working with someone again, to be pitting our wits and courage against the criminals of Chicago. Even if it involves an unscheduled dip in the lake they call Michigan. But I can't help missing Ray, my Ray, the real Ray. The Ray with whom I worked together seamlessly, the Ray who never hesitated to support me when I needed help. My best friend. The man with whom, although I would never dare admit it, I am in love.
And somehow he has guessed. Perhaps it frightened him, perhaps it disgusted him, but for whatever reason, he has left Chicago, leaving a pretender in his place.
Then Miss Garbo pulls out a gun, and the impostor Ray jumps in front of me, shielding me with his own body, and the world turns upside-down.
"Ray," I call urgently. "Ray! Ray!" My God. He took a bullet for me. He doesn't even know me, and yet he did this for me. The real Ray Vecchio would have done it without question, but this man, this blond man who calls himself Ray…
…is grinning, and sitting up. "You called me Ray," says the impostor, revealing his bulletproof vest.
I deny it - say it was the heat of the moment, a slip of the tongue, and what else could I call him? I know he isn't my Ray, but he is _a_ Ray, I suppose.
Back at the station, Lieutenant Welsh clarifies things for me. I am given to understand that Ray Vecchio is on an undercover assignment, and for reasons the Lieutenant chooses not to explain at this juncture this other person is, so to speak, acting the role of Ray Vecchio. And I am requested to go along with the charade.
Very well, I decide, I can do that. I can work with this false Ray. We will pretend to be friends, as the situation requires, and perhaps in time we will truly become friends. But my heart would belong to only one man - the real Ray Vecchio.
* * * | 6e88d06fa87d464792467e9a00425eec | ['faedc599171642179c3d3ed5ef737029'] | He looked fierce. He looked beautiful. Forget about Rome, I thought; I was the one trembling here, under the weight of his body and the weight of his gaze. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at me like that. And it wasn't just anyone; it was Aquila, who had been kinder to me than I'd expected, who had surprised me by treating me like an equal, not as a slave. He had saved me from the Arena, and he hadn't taken my legs, and he could have had me any time he wanted but he had waited until now, and that was long enough to wait, I decided, and so I reached my arms around him and pulled him down against me.
The metal on his chest clattered against the metal on mine, but where our hips met it was flesh to flesh, separated only by our clothing. He was as hard and as ready as I was. He licked down my neck to where flesh met metal, tongued against the lip of my aux panel. I slid my hand under his tunic and let my fingers play across his fine ass, dipping down toward the back of his thigh.
Abruptly he pulled away from me and sat up, facing away from me. "No," he said, but his breathing was ragged, and his heartbeat was so loud I didn't even need my aural to hear it.
"You don't mean that."
He didn't look at me. "I've promised you your freedom."
It took me a moment to catch up with his thoughts. "I'm not doing this because I'm your slave. I'm doing this because I like you, and – because I want you," I added deliberately, carefully, because that was not something that Romans cared about when it came to slaves; but he'd just said it again, that he would give me my freedom, and so I figured he wouldn't be offended. "And the last time I had someone else's hand on my cock it was two years ago, so I think I'm about due." I laughed; he didn't.
I slid up close behind him. "That was also the last time I had my hand on someone else's cock," I murmured, reaching for him again. I let one hand rest on his shoulder, and curved my other arm around the metal at his waist, plucked at the fastenings with my fingers. "Let me take this off."
His head tilted backward, and I caressed the side of his neck, bent my lips to it. "Aquila," I whispered against his neck. " _Marcus_. I want this. Do you?" I did not say that this might be the last time for us both, but I'm sure it was in his mind just as it was in mine.
He shivered against me. I dropped my hand lower, cupped it around his hard flesh. A sound escaped him, and he pressed back against my body. Then my fingers slid against the metal on his thigh, the metal I knew was only armor; he tensed in my arms, and I knew what was wrong.
I released him and leaned back, and began to pull off my clothes. "I know about your leg, that it's organic," I said quietly. "It's okay with me. There's no reason to keep trying to hide it."
"It's not that I'm hiding it," he said. He turned toward me and gave me a half smile. "It's just that I'm tired of the questions."
He began to strip, and I watched him. He hadn't really told the truth; we'd bedded down in the same room or under the same tree for the past month, and he'd been trying to hide his leg, all right. He'd been dressing and undressing in the dark, under the blankets, turned away from me. The light was dim now, but there was enough to see him: his solid body, his broad shoulders, his legs that even now were curved away from me, as though he were still trying to keep me from seeing them.
"I won't ask you questions, then," I said. There were other things I wanted to do with my mouth, anyway, and when his tunic and his metal were in a pile by the side of the bed, I proceeded to do them.
When he'd caught his breath again he reached for me, and maybe it was only that it had been two years, but I had to clamp my hand over my mouth to keep from waking everybody in the inn, it was that glorious. Afterward we lay curled up against each other, and I listened to him fall asleep. I guess at some point I fell asleep, too, because when I opened my eyes again, it was morning.
* * *
Guern was waiting for us when we came to his workshop. "It's not anything fancy," he said, jerking his head toward the float-cart he'd rigged for Aquila, "but it should get you there. If you still want to go."
"Oh, I'm going," he said.
"I've got something for you as well," he said to me. I was loading our gear into the back of the cart, but I looked up. "If you're going with him on this fool's venture."
"I'm his slave. I have to go."
Aquila raised an eyebrow at me, and I concentrated on hoisting the sack of bread into the cart so I wouldn't burst out laughing.
Guern hadn't noticed, which was probably a good thing. He frowned at Aquila. "It seemed as though you trusted him. Am I wrong?"
"I trust him," Aquila said, and I could hear his own repressed laughter in his voice. Guern must have, too, because he looked back at me, then back at Aquila, and his mouth curved into a smile. |
6551412c2be64eebae220656dd4d780b | ['fb05db5fbe1d4ddbab7bcd7a33c85368'] |
Undress to Impress
**Author's Note:**
> Thank you so much to Airdanteine for supplying art and beta'ing for me! She did a phenomenal job! Our brain child could not have turned out any better. You can find the art by clicking the link at the bottom of the fic!
Security detail for the Victoria’s Secret fashion show. He should consider himself lucky, his sergeant had told him. Lucky bastard, Tim had told him. Would’ve killed for that position if he were an officer. Not that big of a deal, Dick had argued with him. Just another day at work. Gotham had paid a pretty penny to steal the show from New York. And Dick’s boss had been more than happy to let GPD borrow him for the event.
He crossed his arms and leaned back against a wall, watching the models double and triple check their hair and makeup. He wanted to tell them all they looked fine, hell, better than fine, but it wasn’t his job. And with dozens of people all trying to talk over each other at the same time, all shouting directions that seemed to contradict each other…
Well, he figured it was better to just keep his mouth shut through the whole thing.
“Are you kidding me?” he watched a woman dressed in all black with a headset on throw her hands in the air. “We’re five minutes from the show!”
“I’m sorry,” a model still out of hair and makeup shook her head. Great. Things were supposed to go smoothly for once in his life. Sure they had extra security (it was Gotham, why wouldn’t they have extra security?) and sure, Jason was going to be in the crowd just in case. And yeah, Batman and Red Robin were going to be on patrol. But the plan had still been for everything to go smoothly.
Oddly enough, a panicked producer talking to a model who was still out of hair and makeup hadn’t been in the briefing.
Take the security detail, they’d said.
It would be fun, they’d said.
He crossed his arms and moved closer to the pair, hoping his presence would be enough to de-escalate the situation. No one had warned him about the possibility he’d have to arrest the people running the show or the people in the show. _Keep your head down if you see the models doing anything. They don’t need the bad publicity, and neither do we._
_Understood, sir._
“There a problem, ladies?” he asked when he heard the producer’s voice reaching a higher and higher volume.
The model shook her head and muttered something Dick couldn’t quite hear. “This little brat says she doesn’t feel well and can’t walk,” the producer shook her head. Great. Life would have been better if he had just let them argue it out. But of course he had to go and get himself involved in the situation. “And now we’re a model short.”
Dick frowned when the woman looked him over. Oh, he was used to being looked at. But this was different. She wasn’t interested in him. She was interested in his potential. “Have you ever considered modeling? You’re pretty enough for it.”
“Ma’am, I’m just security detail…” he trailed off when the producer grabbed him by the wrist and led him to the back. And for God’s sake, Grayson, stay out of the dressing rooms. _Last thing we need is allegations of sexual harassment. Like you could harass anyone if you tried._
_Understood, sir._
* * *
Dick was adventurous. One didn’t grow up in the circus without developing a certain flair for the unusual. But nothing on the face of God’s green earth could have prepared Jason for what he saw. He’d been standing in the crowd for hours, staying as close to the middle as he could. He was tall enough that he didn’t need to be too close to the action, and quick enough that he could react faster from any direction if he stayed squarely there.
Oh, the show was definitely everything he expected it to be. Too-skinny girls walking down the runway in so little clothing their mothers would have blushed…
And then he realized that the model coming out was definitely not one of the toothpick thin girls he’d been watching.
Oh, he was never going to let Dick live this down. Damn, he looked good in those wings, giant golden things making his presence impossible to miss. Jason could think of a thing or two to do with them, if given the chance. He was definitely going to have to figure a way into that dressing room to put those ideas to good use.
Still, Dick rocked that matching blue and gold bra and panty set. And the train of fabric coming down behind him? The girls in the crowd must have loved it too if the scream was anything to go by.
Dick owned that runway. His hips were moving in just the right ways at just the right times. Hell, he never even stumbled. Hell, he never even hit the giant golden wings attached to his back. If Dick was an angel, Jason would be more than happy to convert so he could go to heaven.
Wait.
Who would have thought Dick would look so good in so little? Well, aside from everyone on the face of the damned planet.
Still, those abs were perfect, maybe the most perfect Jason had ever seen. And God knew that pair of panties was doing everything right for that world-famous ass. And the blue and gold were bringing out Dick’s tan complexion, and those massive wings were just perfect on him…
And oh God, he was gushing.
Jason Todd did not gush. | 8441253d979b4c92b727a9ea42346b20 | ['fb05db5fbe1d4ddbab7bcd7a33c85368'] | He listened as Dick grunted and came inside him, chest heaving as he pulled out and rolled beside him. Jason groaned and moved so his head rested on Dick’s chest, smiling when Dick played with his hair. “I love you,” Jason breathed and shut his eyes.
“Love you too,” Dick breathed, and Jason couldn’t help the stupid grin that formed on his face.
“I don’t think I’ll walk straight for a fucking week.”
“You’ll live,” Dick laughed, and Jason couldn’t help but laugh alongside him.
\-------------
Flashes of green. Laughter echoing in his head. _ Which hurts worse? A or B? _ He was drowning and he couldn't scream, and God did he want to scream, and someone was shaking him, and he was falling and hitting the ground and _ Be a good boy and finish your homework. _ And someone was calling his name but it seemed so far away, and he just wanted everything to _ stop _ and he couldn't get away and Bruce wasn't coming and...
He woke with a start, jolting into an upright position, skin sticky with sweat and breaths coming in heaves. Someone was rubbing his back and he tried to focus on how the strong hands felt on his muscles, but it still seemed so far away and _ Oh, and tell the Big Man I said hello... _ "Jay?" the voice asked, calm, even. Familiar. Safe.
Just Dick, he tried to tell himself. It was just Dick and they were just in bed at the beach and they were far, far away from Gotham and nothing was going to hurt him. Dick wouldn't let anything hurt him ever again. He leaned back against Dick's bare chest, trying to focus on the feeling of skin against skin. Dick moved his arms so they were wrapped around his waist, as if he were trying to keep Jason safe.
The only thing he needed to be safe from was his own mind. Even Dick couldn't protect him from that. "It's okay," Dick whispered into his ear, but Jason's pulse was rushing and he couldn't think straight, and he tried to focus on Dick tapping on his abdomen and counting _ One. Two. Three... _
"Twenty-six," he choked out as soon as he found his voice again. "Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight..." It wasn't until fifty-three that he finally calmed down enough to think somewhat clearly.
"What was it?" Dick asked, and Jason was so grateful his tone suggested he didn't have to answer if he didn't want to. He could talk to Dick about anything, well anything except Bruce. He knew that. But talking about his death was so damned difficult, even years later, and sometimes he wondered if it was ever going to be something he could open up about around anyone, even around Dick. Especially around Dick.. "Joker," he said after another heaving breath, and couldn't help but relax a little when he felt Dick's grip tighten around him. _ He's not here. He's not here. He's not here. _
Joker couldn’t hurt him ever again. Dick wouldn’t let him. He was safe with Dick, secure. There was nothing to be scared of. So why was he still so damned scared of him? _ You might be for the rest of your life, _ Dick had told him once. But what the hell did Dick know anyway? He wasn’t there. He didn’t have to live through any of it…
Jason never should have had to live through it. He just wanted to find his mom, for fuck’s sake. Nothing like that should have ever happened.
Robin should have never happened.
"It's okay, Jay," Dick soothed and smoothed his thumb along Jason's abs, and Jason nodded and lay back down against Dick, curling up tight, never wanting to let go of him. Nothing bad could happen as long as Dick had his arms wrapped around him. He wouldn't let it. Dick wouldn't let it.
The Joker was in another God-damned country.
"It's not okay," Jason shook his head. "I'm ruining everything. We just had an awesome night, and now I'm ruining it, and..." Just like he ruined everything. He couldn’t even enjoy a God-damned vacation properly, not without freaking out, after an amazing night no less, and bringing a downer on everything just like he always did, and it wasn’t fair to Dick who just wanted to help him, and….
Dick moved a hand onto Jason's shoulder and squeezed tightly, and Jason tried to focus on his touch instead of all the thoughts racing through his head, driving him mad. "You aren't ruining anything," he said softly. _ You should hate me. _ "You're allowed to feel, and you're allowed to feel those feelings strongly." Jason nodded and buried his face in Dick's chest, breathing in the smell of stale sex and aftershave, and he just wanted to stay there forever where nothing could hurt him ever again. Dick held him close, and Jason clung tightly. _ I don't. Never could. _ "You've been to hell and back, Jay," he continued. "You're allowed to have nightmares. You're allowed to be scared."
"I'm not scared, Dick," Jason shook his head and looked anywhere but Dick's face. "I'm fucking terrified of him." And for a moment, he wasn't sure if he was talking about the Joker, Bruce, or both. And it felt so good to finally let it out and admit to it, because for so long he’d felt the need to bottle everything up, to act like everything was okay even when everything was so fucking far from being okay… |
7d1a1c84b9a24effbdd8428e1d8ee6f8 | ['fb0b0f9ef57247c4b6d5fe3e786ce898'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> English is not my first language, so forgive any mistake!
>
> Enjoy!
The call came at night, around 3am.
The call came at night and in the worst moment.
That moment being, Alex was currently trying to slip out of the bed of one of the many women Kara tried to set her up with in the last months. What was her name again? Jane? Jules? Julia? whatever. So yeah, it wasn’t the best moment for her phone to ring.
Cursing under her breath, she quickly threw on her clothes while looking for her phone, which ended up being closer to the door of the apartment than she remembered.
Once she was out, shirt still half unbuttoned and leather jacket in one hand, she answered the phone without even checking the caller ID because, honestly, it was three in the morning; who could it be if not a DEO emergency call?
«J’onn I am on my way, what's going on? »
Except, for once, it wasn’t a DEO emergency call.
«Is this doctor Alexandra Danvers? »
Alex froze in the hallway, leather jacket halfway in.
«Speaking. Who - »
«This is National City General Hospital, you were listed as Maggie Sawyer’s emergency contact. »
Alex almost dropped her phone, while the thought that maybe still being listed as her ex fiancée’s emergency contact five months after the break up was a little weird didn’t cross her mind for even half a second. She looked for the keys of her Ducati and ran down the stair of the building, barely registering the words of the nurse on the other side of the line (although the word coma kind of made her move even faster), or hanging up the phone, or the road to the hospital, ridden way past the speed limit.
She only came to her senses when she entered the hospital, and ran through the crowded lobby looking for a nurse.
And she must have looked really disheveled, for a nurse stopped her asking if she needed any help.
«Maggie Sawyer. You called me because I am Maggie Sawyer’s emergency contact. Is she okay? » and, sure enough, when the nurse’s face fell at the mention of Maggie’s name, tears started to collect at the corners of Alex’s eyes.
«Please tell me she’s okay, » she whispered, her badass façade long forgotten.
The nurse put a gentle hand on her arm.
«She got hurt on a raid, a bomb on a warehouse, she basically saved the life of her partner. She just got out of a risky surgery, she um… she lost a lot of blood, we’re doing the best we can, but right now she’s on a coma, and because her injuries were deep, we don’t really know if she’s going to wake up. »
Alex put a hand in front of her mouth to suppress a sob.
«Can I see her? »
«Of course, come with me. »
They started walking to Maggie’s room in silence, when the nurse spoke again.
«Do you know if there are any family member we should alert? »
Alex gulped, took a deep breath and tried to stabilize her voice, wondering for a moment if her parents would even care that their disowned daughter was in a coma.
«No, I’m - » _all she has._
Deep breath.
Right hand playing with an empty left ring finger.
«No, she doesn’t. »
The nurse nodded and they continued their walk in silence, until she stopped in front of a single room in the ICU department.
The nurse opened the door to let Alex in, then «I’ll leave you two alone. » and she left, leaving her in the white, sterile, cold room, with only the beep of the machines to keep her company.
Alex took a deep breath, trying to steady her trembling limbs and her nauseous stomach, and got closer to the bed.
And a sob escaped her mouth at the sight of Maggie.
Sweet, beautiful Maggie, pale as Alex had never seen her before, with tubes to help her breathe coming out of her mouth, and more needles that Alex could count stick on her arms, connected to IV tubes.
Alex slowly got to the side of the bed and sat down to a chair next to it, reaching with a trembling hand to carefully put a strand of hair behind her ear.
«Hey there, beautiful, » she whispered with a trembling voice, «This really isn’t how I imagined our reunion to happen, you know? »
She stayed silent for a couple of seconds, as if waiting for Maggie to answer her.
And then, Alex realized that she wasn’t going to answer, that she wasn’t going to scoff, or make a sarcastic joke, or hell, even scream at her to just leave her the hell alone, that she never wanted to see Alex’s face again.
Then, the nurse’s words finally sank in, and she realized that maybe, the last memory of her beautiful, warm, loving Maggie, was going to be her crying face when she kicked her out of her apartment.
A sob freely escaped her mouth, now, as she buried her face in the white, rough material of the covers of the hospital bed, while her hand held on for dear life to Maggie’s cold one.
A whispered «Please, wake up. »
A whispered «I still love you. »
2. Chapter
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Back with the second chapter!
>
> Again, English is not my first language so forgive any mistake.
>
> Enjoy!
The rest of the night, Alex spent it dozing off between the regular checks of the nurses, never leaving Maggie’s side.
Around six in the morning, a doctor came to better explain Maggie’s condition to her. It was bad. The bullet had cut through the coronary artery, and no one could really explain how she was still alive.
Lucky star, probably.
At seven, her phone rang. | f062a1c2b42a48b3bf54627285b096fe | ['fb0b0f9ef57247c4b6d5fe3e786ce898'] |
I never wanna stop having firsts with you
Maggie couldn’t go the wedding.
Alex had invited her, of course.
But they had been fighting for the last couple of weeks, ever since Alex had come back from Ruby’s recital. They didn’t talk about it, both too scared of what that conversation might lead to. And slowly, their perfect communication had started to fade.
And so, Maggie had started to take more and more long shifts at the precinct, so really, for how much she thought going to another Earth would be the coolest thing, going there for a wedding, when her own was standing over thin ice, she just couldn’t.
So she had stayed in National City, and Alex had gone to Earth-1 with Kara.
They parted with a hug.
Alex came back five days later.
Maggie is sitting on the couch, a glass of scotch in hand, the bottle on the coffee table with a container of half eaten pizza, the TV tuned on some documentary she clearly isn’t paying attention to, swirling the amber liquid in the glass and taking a sip.
She doesn’t hear Alex come in.
«Hey you, » Alex whispers, leaving her stuff by the door and getting closer to the couch.
Maggie startles. «Hey, » she says, turning around and leaving the glass on the coffee table, «I didn’t hear you come in. »
«Yeah, » Alex sighs, sitting down on the couch, throwing her arms around her fiancée and resting her head on the crook of her neck. «Sorry I scared you. », she mumbles.
After a moment of hesitation, Maggie hugs her back, kissing the top of her head.
«It’s okay, » she says, lightly caressing Alex’s back with her fingertips. «Is everything alright with you? »
«Yeah, just tired. » Alex mumbles back, nuzzling Maggie’s neck and giving her a light kiss there.
«Are you sure? You seem a bit… tense, » Maggie says, hugging her tightly. «I mean, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, just… I’m here if you need anything, you know right? I love you. »
Alex pulls back from the hug just enough to be able to watch her in the eyes.
«I love you too, Mags. So much. » she whispers, «And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for how I acted the last couple of weeks. I’m sorry if I was distant, and if I made you feel like I wasn’t sure about us. About our forever, our firsts. Because I am, and you are everything I’ll ever need to be happy. »
She doesn’t notice that tears have started to fall until Maggie pulls back to cup her face with her hands, a worried look taking over her features.
«Alex, what happened at the wedding? » Maggie pleads.
Alex chuckles wetly, «It was interrupted. By Nazis. So we better get a high security level at our ceremony because I won’t tolerate this kind of interruption. », she says, trying to lighten the mood a bit.
«But, everyone is fine. It worked out fine, in the end. We beat the bad guys. », she adds, now serious again.
Maggie squeezes her hand and puts a stray lock of hair behind her fiancée hear, resting her hand on her cheek, giving her time to gather her thoughts.
«But, it almost wasn’t. Fine, I mean. A group of schutzstaffel captured us, and they took us to Earth X, which is basically like our earth except, there, Hitler won the war. »
Maggie gasps, scared for what might have happened there, but Alex doesn’t give her the time to talk.
«They brought us to some kind of concentration camp, I guess. And we were the only one dressed in civilian clothes. And without a symbol to mark us.»
She stops to take a deep breath.
«And there were so many people, with six-pointed stars and pink triangles and then Jax, he is a friend of Kara, asked one of the prisoner what was the triangle for and he answered, “I loved the wrong person”. »
Maggie inhales sharply, tightening her hold on her hand.
«But really, that was the least of our problems, we weren’t there because of our sexuality. They wanted Supergirl –Kara, and we were in the way so we just had to die. And they held us at gun point. »
«Sweetie… », Maggie whispers, a shocked looked on her face.
Maggie, who is shaking now, right along with Alex, and yeah, maybe she could have delivered the news a bit more gently, but her mind is racing and she just has to tell Maggie.
«It’s okay. I’m okay, Mags, just… » Alex takes a deep, shaky breath, trying to compose herself, and puts a hand on Maggie’s cheek, looking at her in the eyes.
«Maggie, when I was standing there, with a rifle pointed at my head… you know how they say that, when you’re about to die, you see your whole life pass before your eyes? »
Maggie nods, nuzzling her head on Alex’s hand resting on her cheek.
«Well, in that moment, I didn’t see my life. I saw you. And us. And every moment we had and the one we’re yet to have. I saw your smile, lighting up my day every time I see it. And your eyes, those deep brown eyes I so love getting lost into. And your dimples, those cute dimples I love to kiss. » (And Maggie chuckles at that, a wet chuckle that makes Alex’s stomach twirl with butterflies.)
«And I saw our wedding. I saw you, in a white dress, walking with me down the aisle. And the minister declaring us wives. I saw us, kissing in front of our family. »
They’re both crying now, thinking of a life that they almost lost. |
db7a50c0a1b34ec38fd1c76046377d03 | ['fb199aa87ae045438dce908e5d99c681'] | What's Left of You
They wear the same perfume. Yayoi thinks about it sometimes, idly—or whatever can pass as such in a place like this, choked through with regulation, stability, the luxury of having no choice. She wonders about the traces they leave, winding through hallways and under doors, and allows herself a smile. She is not in isolation.
When she’s with Shion, the smell is broad, enveloping, bitter to taste. She flicks her tongue against a pulse point and thrills at the surge of current beneath the skin, at the slip in Shion’s breath. They lie together afterwards, Shion fiddling with the interior Holo, making adjustments that Yayoi is certain aren’t within the parameters of the program, cigarette in hand and sighing smoke. Shion has a talent for hacking, not that she uses it much these days. Yayoi wonders if the rush of it was anything like being on stage, and suppresses that line of thought before it can go any further. Traveling beyond the reach of their scents is inadvisable, now.
***
It’s not until Kou finds himself wanting to bite off the ends of Makishima’s sentences that he realizes this is more than can fit in the bounds of Philosophy 101. They’ve been debating for weeks, leaving the rest of the student body alternately bored and enthralled, chasing each other through Marx and Lacan and Kierkegaard. Makishima smiles more once they meet up with Foucault. Kou can feel it, teeth against the base of his spine, and he shakes his head to clear the shiver that threatens to run through him like cold water.
Their conversations bleed into their every interaction outside of class, and Kou pretends he doesn’t see Gino’s disapproving gaze right over Makishima’s bony shoulder. It’s too easy to spend the greater end of the party on Saturday arguing with Makishima, drinks in hand; far too easy to chase a strand of his hair and tuck it back behind his ear, to lean in, hand light on his waist, and move against his lips, steady as his bloodstream. Makishima breaks the kiss to talk about biopolitics, and they’re on the couch, kou mouthing his neck, Makishima’s hand in his back pocket. Almost no one pays them the least bit of attention.
Kou doesn’t come back to the dorms that night and Gino won’t talk to him the next morning, not even to lend him a pencil in Sociology class.
***
Kagari wants to see the ocean. 'You're lying if you say you don't,' he tells Choe one afternoon, head nested against the flat of Choe's sternum.
'I'm not saying I don't,' says Choe, ever mild, and cards a hand through Kagari's hair.
Kagari rolls over; plants chin to chest. 'You're not saying anything. How irritatingly like you, Choe-chan.'
He's slipping the last of the bobby pins back into place when he feels the deceptively soft pressure of a kiss at the base of his neck. 'And it's very like you to keep talking.' | 3fecf8b6bb8846f6a8df1fc502a8433f | ['fb199aa87ae045438dce908e5d99c681'] | He doesn’t immediately see Ogata when he steps outside the building, but there’s a stream of cigarette smoke moving in from the alley next door that catches in the haze of the streetlight. He turns the corner and, of course, Ogata’s there, leaning against the alley wall in a manner that Sugimoto guesses is supposed to look casual.
If Ogata’s trying to project apathy, it’s hampered by a shimmering sort of low-grade intensity running through his frame, an intensity that smolders like the tip of his cigarette.
His eyes remain opaque and undisturbed, like standing water in low light.
“Hey,” says Sugimoto, somewhat uselessly.
Ogata doesn’t react, except to exhale a column of white smoke. Sugimoto starts to make a face, then remembers why he’s here, and makes a face for an entirely different reason. “I, uh...I wanted to...apologize.”
No response. Ogata might not even be looking at him—it’s hard to tell with those eyes, and this late in the evening.
And then, barely detectable—the imprint of a smirk.
Something rises within Sugimoto, whirlwind-fast, picking up stray irritations and scraps of wounded pride until it fills his head with a roaring ferocity, and he moves, slamming his fist into the wall next to Ogata’s head. “Hey. Are you fucking listening to me?”
Ogata’s face splinters into a grin, and, through the rage, Sugimoto can taste something sour, metallic, primal.
Bisected by the sullen yellow haze of the light, Ogata is overripe, exhaling smoke directly into Sugimoto’s face. “You’re pretty worked up, Sugimoto. I don’t know if we can have this conversation while you’re so angry.”
Sugimoto’s vision tunnels. “Oh, now I’m angry? I’m not the one who barged out of my brother’s apartment because he didn’t win a stupid game.”
“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?”
Ogata’s smile is almost beatific, now. The blood cycling through Sugimoto’s veins slams against the ventricles of his heart until he can’t feel anything else. “What are you talking about?”
“You followed me.”
The smoke wreaths around the two of them, so sharply different from ylang ylang, and Sugimoto doesn’t know what to say.
“Does my brother know you have anger issues?”
“That’s none of your fucking business,” hisses Sugimoto.
He grabs Ogata by the collar, and pulls until they’re almost nose to nose. “Oh,” says Ogata, letting the breath slide through his voice, “he’s always been the lucky one.”
This close, Ogata smells like ash, and Sugimoto’s never been a smoker, but the smell is inside him, now; he’s almost floating with it. Ogata’s lips around the cigarette are chapped and full.
It’s too much.
Sugimoto pushes him into the wall. “Get over yourself.”
Turning, he walks back towards the apartment building, and doesn’t look to see if Ogata is coming.
He hadn’t thought to bring his keys, but the door opens when he knocks. Yuusaku must be worried, because he’s chewing on his lip, and suddenly, Sugimoto sees the resemblance. “How did it—Saichi, have you been smoking?”
“Not me,” he says, and walks past him.
Ogata does eventually knock to be let in, some time later. Yuu gets him set up in the spare room. Presumably, they say goodnight.
When Yuusaku takes off his shirt and gets into bed, he’s frowning. “I should have known you two wouldn’t get along. You both have such strong personalities.”
Sugimoto is already kissing down his jawline. “Mmm,” he agrees, “lemme make it up to you?”
Yuusaku looks at him, eyebrows furrowed. “There’s something going on with you, and I wish you’d tell me what it was.”
“Damn right there’s something going on,” murmurs Sugimoto, biting at a nipple, “I need you to fuck me.”
Yuu sighs. “I mean, obviously I’m happy to. Just...about what you said, earlier today. What brought that on?”
Sugimoto stops. His sudden declaration of love was barely on the edge of his awareness. “Yuu. Babe. It’s fine. I’m fine.”
He cards a hand through Yuusaku’s hair. “Now, come on, you need to relax.”
When Sugimoto finally sleeps, his dreams are pallid, stark, and shot through with pillars of smoke.
2. Chapter 2
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Warning for reference to familial homophobia in this chapter!
Saturday afternoon descends with curtains of rain, cooping them up in the apartment like disgruntled chickens. “I was hoping we could go to the park,” says Yuusaku, frowning at the rivulets coursing down the living room windows.
“That’s unfortunate,” comments Ogata.
Sugimoto squints. The lack of inflection in that voice seriously impairs his ability to detect sarcasm. “Yeah,” agrees Yuusaku, clinging to whatever ghosts of genuine sentiment might be lurking under Ogata’s response, “Koito was even going to meet us there.”
His boyfriend’s best friend has always acted like dealing with Sugimoto was an unfortunate byproduct of being in Yuusaku’s good graces, and the feeling was mutual. “Oh,” says Sugimoto, straining to align his voice with something resembling cheerfulness, “that would’ve been nice.”
The look Yuu levels at him indicates he isn’t fooled, but Sugimoto, caught out, can feel Ogata’s soft chuckle running through him. “What is it about him that bothers you so much, Saichi?”
“Yeah,” says Ogata, grin sharpening, “is it the sanctimoniousness? Or, maybe it’s the prudish condescension.”
As much as part of him resists having anything in common with Ogata, Sugimoto can’t help but smile at the thought of him clashing with Koito. He wonders, idly, what it would’ve been like, knowing Ogata while he was still in university. If putting some common ground between himself and Ogata might have changed things.
Yuusaku, for his part, looks a little hurt. “Brother, that’s unfair. He’s a good guy.”
“That’s exactly the problem,” mutters Ogata, and then, “I need a shower. Can I trouble you for a towel?” |
f672682f224f4d07a1bd54cdfe226eed | ['fb1ebbb9ac5d45b7927f07a2f48d4363'] | Because he looks like Derek. Hair, eyebrows, lips, stubble, all that. Except that he’s wearing a plain shirt and blue jeans, a la The Hannah Montana Movie.
Stiles thinks he might puke.
They all stand around Stiles until Derek clears his throat. “Uh, there's...lemonade out back.”
That's enough for them to make themselves scarce. It's also enough for Stiles to completely flip out.
“There's _lemonade_ out back? WHO ARE YOU? And—and—how long have you been here and—and _why_ have you been here?”
Derek hooks his thumbs in the pocket of his jeans.
Stiles rolls his eyes so hard he feels his brain shake a bit.
“I’ve been here for a few weeks. I think it was right about the time you ran into Erica and Boyd.” He looks like he might have a little bit of shame over that, except his eyes never leave Stiles’. “I was gonna tell you.”
“When?” Stiles demands. “When you fucking felt like it? When you decided you were willing to see me again? When it suited you?”
“I had to… Stiles, I just wanted everything to be right. And I didn't want to just run to you the second they went away.”
“Why? Because you needed to enjoy your freedom for a little while? Couldn't you have told me that?”
Derek looks like he might start shouting. “Because I didn't want to replace them with you. Because, God, Stiles—they're my family. They're my—I didn't want you to feel like I was just with you because I missed them.”
Stiles wants to say he wouldn’t have felt that way, it would’ve have mattered, but he knows that’s a lie. Because he probably would’ve thought that he was a replacement, a new doll to play with because the old ones were gone. And he feels appropriately chastised.
Except.
“You still should’ve told me.” He crosses his arms defiantly. “You should’ve told me when they’d gone.”
“I know,” Derek mutters. “I just—thought it would be easier. Tell me you wouldn’t have tried to find me when you found out I was on my own.”
“Not if you didn’t want me to.”
Derek licks his lips. “My parents live here. And my sister. I decided I would come and…relax, for a little while. But I thought, if you wanted, I could take you to my place in Chicago—”
“You have an apartment in Chicago,” Stiles says.
He looks over his shoulder at the house. “My family… We kind of… I kind of own places. Companies.”
“In Chicago.”
“And New York, Las Vegas, and Los Angeles.
And Stiles doesn’t want Chicago. Stiles doesn’t want tight spaces and big buildings. He wants the road and freedom and nothing tying him down.
Stiles wants Derek.
He swallows tightly, looks down at his shoes. “I don’t care,” he says when he finally looks at Derek’s eyes again, “about what is apparently a vast amount of wealth. Jackson’s family owns half of the town we grew up in and I still think he’s a piece of shit. You don’t—I don’t care at all.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you telling me this.”
“Because it’s your choice, Stiles.” And the full intensity of what Derek is about to say slaps Stiles in the face.
“What is?”
“I want to be with you,” Derek tells him. “I don’t care where, I don’t care why; all I care about is you. With your dumb van or on my bike or in Chicago or anywhere else you want to be—I don’t care. Not as long as you’re there too.”
“The van’s not dumb.”
Derek smiles softly. “Stiles.”
“What do you want me to say, Derek? That I’ll leave my friends and settle down with you with Chicago? That I’ll sit on the back of your bike for the next eight thousand miles?”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I just want you to say that you want me.”
“You’re an idiot,” Stiles breathes, because how could he not say that? Derek is just looking at him, though, waiting, and Stiles licks his lips. “I want you, of course I do, that’s not—that’s not a question.”
“Then what is?”
“How I’m supposed to choose between you and my family.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
“You want to ride around with us in a crappy van that half the time smells like come and weed?”
“I can’t tell if you’re ignoring everything I’m saying because you doubt me or because you’re actually deaf.” He takes a step forward. “Stiles, I would walk to Siberia if that’s where you wanted to be.” He lifts his hands, slides them forward to cup Stiles’ cheeks, thumbs on his cheekbones. “Happily,” he mutters, “would I ride around with you and your idiot friends in a crappy van that smells like come and weed, as long as it meant I got to be with you.”
Stiles has to kiss him then, doesn’t know how he survived without kissing him for so long, and he wraps his arms around Derek’s neck while Derek repositions his hands to the small of Stiles’ back. They stand there for a long time, kissing and holding each other, and when they finally pull away, Stiles knows. He knows that whatever happens now, wherever they decide to go, whatever they decide to do, it’s them. It’s always going to be them.
“You totally love me,” Stiles mutters.
Derek smiles. “I do.”
“Good.” Stiles pulls him into another kiss, faster this time, and brushes their noses together when it’s over. “Let’s go.”
“Where?”
Stiles smirks, happiness flooding him so quickly that he just manages a sloppy shrug. “Wherever the hell we want.”
**Author's Note:**
> So when your hope's on fire
> But you know your desire
> Don't hold a glass over the flame
> Don't let your heart grow cold
> I will call you by name
> I will share your road
>
> -Hopeless Wanderer, Mumford & Sons | abd48be69cf146189093161cb05019b8 | ['fb1ebbb9ac5d45b7927f07a2f48d4363'] | “I was under the impression you did love Derek. Very much, in fact.” He sits up straight, hands folded together. “Stiles, no matter what did or did not happen with Katherine Argent, I know when a man is in love, and I’ve seen the way Derek looks at you.”
“Looked,” he corrects. “The way he used to look at me. Before she waltzed back into his life.”
“You are blinded, son, it is plain to everyone. You are blinded by fear and the anger it breeds. Do you not think that I am unfamiliar with the feeling, Stiles? Your mother was the most beautiful person who ever walked these halls. When I was young and stupid, as uneasy as you with a constructed union, I second guessed her every action. She could not, obviously, love a blundering idiot like me. So I saw enemies everywhere and her indifference where it wasn't. I caused her a great deal of frustration and I'm sure some sadness in those early days, but nothing compared to the pain in that man's expression.”
“He’s made his decision,” Stiles grumbles.
“He obviously regrets it,” the King adds, “whatever it was.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“I would argue that it’s all that matters.”
Stiles lifts his head and wonders if his father and Deaton are conspiring to torture him.
“Whatever a man does speaks to his desires, but his actions after the fact speak to his character.”
Stiles closes his eyes and stands. “I've had enough of lessons for today, may I take my leave?”
“No,” his father says, face stern, “you may not. Sit.”
“I—”
“Sit.”
“Yes, father.”
“It is my wish that you speak with Derek. No. It is my wish that you go to Derek and allow him to speak.”
“It will do no good. I won’t believe a word he says.”
The King either doesn’t believe this or truly doesn’t care. “It doesn’t matter. Do it.”
“Yes, father.”
It’s stupid, Stiles thinks, that his father cares so much because nothing is going to come of it. Truly, Stiles has had no plans to see Derek until their wedding day. They’ve managed, over the last two days without communication, to avoid running into each other around the palace, avoiding meals and staying in their rooms, and Stiles doesn’t mind. He’s learning to accept what’s going to happen.
Stiles knocks sharp and quick at Derek's door. After a minute with no response Stiles knocks again and this time he can here shuffling inside. “I am indisposed.”
“It's me,” he says simply, shortly. He can hear the man scrambling on the other side of the door. When he opens the door Derek's head is mussed and there are deep dark circles beneath his eyes. He wears no vest and his shirt is untied. He looks incredibly relieved and then somewhat suspicious. “Your highness?”
“I trust you’ve been informed that the date of our wedding has been moved up in order for your family to be able to return to Ignis.”
Derek nods shortly. “I’ve heard. Do you find…issue with the news?”
“It’s only that there are simple things that must be approached before the ceremony—your vows sent to Deaton, of course, as well as your intended home.”
Stiles can see how Derek’s jaw clenches.
“My vows have been sent,” Derek says somewhat viciously. “Many days ago.”
“Yes, well,” Stiles avoids his eyes, “if there are any changes to be made you should let him know.”
Derek glares, his jaw still tense. “No, Stiles, my promises have not changed.”
Stiles snorts out a laugh. “Of course not.”
“I’ve told you no lies,” Derek hisses, “and if you only stand here to accuse me and continue to lack faith in my honesty, then I would have you leave me be. As you’ve said, I have a wedding to prepare for.”
Stiles’ heart thuds painfully in his chest. He has a million different things he could say about faith and fidelity, but instead he simply presses his lips together and nods. “Good afternoon, your highness,” he says with a bow, and he turns to leave, feeling like he might be sick.
“Stiles,” Derek says, his tone much softer.
It makes him pause but he doesn't turn back. “Yes?”
“Do you wish you had chosen my sister?”
Stiles squares his shoulders and fight against the instinct to deny it. “We must all live with our choices. Goodbye, Derek.”
* * *
Derek can honestly say he never expected his wedding day to be like this. When he was younger he imagined a beautiful woman in a white gown, someone like Lydia or Allison, a foreign princess who loved him dearly, who he loved as well. He imagined happiness and joy, could picture his sisters crying and his father clapping him on the back—and none of that, he knows, is going to happen today.
There’s a knock on his door early in the morning that brings forward several servants to help him dress. He’s silent the entire time, trapped in his mind, whirling around the possibilities and the knowledge that despite what Stiles believes, he’s never loved anyone as much as he loves him. It continues to break his heart to know that Stiles may never believe that again.
All the same, he hasn’t chosen land. He hasn’t chosen a home or servants—it’s his own little retaliatory act. He won’t give in when he’s done nothing wrong.
His father squeezes his shoulder and his mother gives him a measured but somewhat sympathetic look. Laura pulls him up in a hug and then moves to stand wordlessly behind him. Cora takes his hands and kisses his cheek. “Please be happy, brother.”
He squeezes her hand. “I am,” he whispers. “I’m happy to let you be happy.” He kisses the top of her head, closes his eyes. “Promise me you’ll use your freedom to the fullest.”
“I do. I promise.” |
c4b64ccfcd114f12a8b6f6cbbe349379 | ['fb264d09bb7d4a72bde611b235148152'] | Stanzi, nearly sixteen, was a darling girl with plain features and an even less impressive aptitude for song. She had a limited range and could muster mezzo parts at best, nothing compared to the silvery tones of my high tessatura or the powerful soprano of Josepha, our eldest sister. Stanzi wasn’t much of a musician either, preferring her needle work to her scales. Which I suppose is why Papa was so happy to comply with her request, a sudden change of heart - perhaps a Prima Dona could be made of her after all, or so he thought. I knew the truth of motivations and shook my head as she leapt at the chance to be tutored by Wolfgang. Her sudden interest in singing was due to her infatuation with Herr Mozart - a young girl, lured by a talented, arrogant music maker with a flirtatious tongue and wandering hands. Stanzi was prey, Wolfgang knew she was not destined for the stage - but he was more than happy to oblige her efforts through daily lessons. She was no diva, but at least she was something to look at, a muse or possibly just a feast for the eyes. Blossoming her own feminine features, she certainly made up for her lack of vocal ability in other, more visible ways. Mozart was more than complementary, teaching her breath control, diction and gently pushing her range each day. She would lay sprawled across our bed recounting every last detail, describing how he had taken her hand - or given her an encouraging look. She was nearly out of her mind with him and I think he played the part quite well.
This afternoon’s lesson had fallen rather silent below my feet, suspiciously so. Having begun with scales, arpeggios and the like - I tuned out the muted voices and stopped only to notice when the sound grew thinner, then ceased all together. Rather short for a lesson, I thought to myself - then I soon heard the panicked climb of feminine feet up the stairs, stopping just outside the door before Stanzi flew in wildly...
“From the looks of it I probably will.” I raised my eyebrows at her from my place on the bed, “Is this about a Mozart?” I said coolly, trying not to let the black pool of jealousy spill out, she was only a child! What could he possibly want with a plain little thing like Stanzi? Then again, the same man had no difficulty exploring my assets on more than one occasion, so why not anyone else? I fingered my silver pendant while recalling our tryst in the wooded area just down the path. He had taken full advantage of the situation, what was I to do? He only let up, likely in fear of being caught! “That is not my place to educate you” I recalled him saying as he pushed my hands away and stood up to right himself, and the heated incident in the carriage to the garden party - what of that? I scoffed at the memory and closed my book.
She jumped when she heard a series of loud footsteps barreling up the stairs, stopping familiarly just outside our door. She was being pursued. Her eyes grew wider and she stared at me like a doe about to be slain, “Ali!” she whispered lowly in a hushed panic, then came a knock on the door. “What do I do?” she mouthed silently to me, pressing the full weight of her body against the door protectively.
“Oh Stanzi move!” I huffed, swinging my legs off of the bed and plopping my bare feet onto the cold boards below. Pushing the delirious young girl out of my way, I threw open the door with my hands on my hips, daringly wearing only my night frock, my hair down and eyes blazing. Wolfgang flew back from the door, obviously having been pressed to it in attempts to listen through to the other side.
“Oh, Frauline!” he said sheepishly, beginning to blush as he registered my state of relative undress, “Excuse me…” he muttered as he backed away, just as Stanzi poked her head out from behind me. “Stanzi” he paused, stepping forward but then hesitating when he noted my disapproving glare. He looked to me and was met with a threatening scowl, he then looked to Stanzi apologetically. “Can I help you Herr Mozart?” I spat coldly.
“I….no.” He bowed stiffly and turned towards his room, practically running inside and closing the door quickly behind him. I stood in the doorway to our room for a moment, watching his door - would he peak his head out? What did I care, it was done. I turned back to my sister who was staring at me with her mouth agape. “Ali! Why would you scare him away like that? And in your night dress!” she hissed, “You’re practically…..”
“Naked?” I crossed my arms defiantly, “Hardly Stanzi - and do you really think that Mozart fellow is so innocent that he’s never seen a woman in a state of undress?” Stanzi sat on the bed with a sigh, “Do you think so?” she questioned
“Darling, I know for certain.” Truthfully, I did know!
“I don’t think Wolfie is like that Ali, he’s so sweet and kind.” she protested childishly, “And he’ll take whatever he can get his talented little hands on!” I quipped, beginning to lace up a simple bodice and shimmying into a heavy skirt. “Aloysia!” she scolded, “Rude!”
After a time as I was pinning up my hair and about to walk out, leaving her to daydream alone, she asked quietly, “Are you about to go scold to him?” I snorted in response, tucking my last curl up and securing it with a small pin just above my ear.
“He doesn’t deserve to speak to me child!” I said flippantly, opening the door and practically running straight into the devil himself. | d2f8b44ebfc24e4f97238c8822bcdb7c | ['fb264d09bb7d4a72bde611b235148152'] | I would have never thought the constant pestering of Papa would be missed, however sitting in my small room with nothing but embers burning at an hour that only owls can know, I began to feel melancholy towards those tours as a boy. Tucked in, Nannerl pestering me for more of the quilt, Mama and Papa tightly wound into their covers just a few feet away. Travel from town to town, gifts of toys, clothes and wondrous foods – what more could a boy want? I was adored, my music was adored. It was sublime.
Sighing I deposited the pen into the ink and wiggled out of my bedclothes, digging to find something that wasn’t already heavy with the stench of travel. Settling on a plain waistcoat and dark trousers, I quickly ran my fingers through my hair. Wild as ever Wolfie, I whispered to myself, having caught sight of my reflection in the mirror by the wash stand. My cherub face had not last through adolescence and I was not blessed in stature. However, among his many lessons to me, Papa had taught me well that any man who could spin a tale and who could hold his own on topics of art, politics and science could capture any one, man, woman or child.
Mama was snoring heavily in the next room – the timbre of each rumble nearly rattling my ink clean off the desk. My eyes were bleary, my joints aching, I needed to get somewhere warm and quickly, before that snoring drove me mad! I would return well before Mama would rise, and I surely needed a break from this desk.
Grinning like a child I threw my overcoat on hastily and tip toed for the door, slipping out into the street, traipsing through the freshly fallen snow. I quickly turned my collar up against the wind, instantly wishing I had taken my mittens – instead settling with crossing my arms tightly around myself, digging my frozen digits into the sides of the woolen jacket.
Squinting in the snow fall as I wandered, I finally crossed the cobblestones towards my destination. I spotted the door man in the distance, stooped by a dimly light lantern, still open for business I thought to myself. I began to trudge with more haste. My fur lined boots clomping in the muck, occasionally side stepping a drunken passerby as they stumbled home wildly.
“Good evening Herr” the doorman grunted, pushing the heavy wooden door open, exposing the dark stone stairs that descended below ground. “It’s a quiet night so far.” He mumbles and I met his eyes and nodded in silent thanks. I cautiously picked my way down the cellar stairs trying not to tumble straight down to the bottom.
“Welcome my dear. Come, come, it’s a frightful night – you must be nearly frozen!” An older Frau, dressed rather conservatively rushed out to welcome me in as soon as I passed the threshold. The warm air from the old stove hit me immediately, my face beginning to burn from the waves radiating outwards as it groaned and cracked. I quickly tussled the snow from my hair and shrugged off my heavy outer coat. She extended her arms to collect my things, “I trust you’re here for the night?”
“No, Madame. Simply a short visit – I must be back by morning with upmost discretion.” I cleared my throat, the initial chit chat always made me nervous.
“Of course, please allow me.” She gestured me to follow suit, walking down a short hall past a serious of closed doors. “She’s very good, and quite clean.” The Frau assured me. Knocking on the door, she poked her head inside, whispering something quickly and then standing by to allow me entry.
“Simply come up to collect your coat and settle up when you’re ready.” She then squeezed my arm with startling force and whispered fiercely, “Do not pay the girls directly, understood?” with widened eyes I nodded, pulling away from her grasp, she smiled sweetly, “Enjoy.” I stood in the hall, watching her return to the front, heels clicking rhythmically as she receded.
Hearing the heavy door hinge groan, I turned back towards the darkened room – a small girl with wavy locks peaked out expectantly in my direction. For a moment, my stomach fell, she was lovely – large, dark eyes, pale complexion and soft, delicate features. “Sir?” she questioned, stepping back to open the door further, in quiet gesture to admit me.
“Good evening Frauline” I smiled, looking down to her small toes – bare on the floor. I couldn’t bring myself to devour her whole – at least not in the manner I had planned to find my own relief. How young she seemed, likely even younger than myself. Her night dress hung suggestively off her shoulders, laces loose, the fabric hanging from her small breasts - most appealing.
She must have noticed my gaze, as she began to undress. Slowly unfastening the small buttons on the neck, working her way down to her navel. She worked silently, looking up every so often for my approval, hearing nothing – she continued. Making quick work of the gown, she let the fabric fall to the floor, stepping out of the tangled fabric to expose her remarkable figure.
She was petite, her long dark waves cascading down her back, lovely pale nipples perched attentively atop two perfectly formed breasts. She nervously placed her hands in front of her as I stood struck with an appraising gaze. “You’re doing wonderfully my darling.” I whispered, taking her hands in my own, she shivered feeling their coldness.
“Would you like to undress Herr…?” She said softly in question, “Mozart” I replied, stepping closer, pulling her against my chest. “I think you can help me with that, yes?” I grinned coyly and she nodded in comply. |
655cda0de20d4d828a8341b8f905c8e3 | ['fb45de636c8243a48eb3f08502351d04'] |
1. Hello Baby!
**Author's Note:**
> Okies! So this is my first shot at a slow build Sterek and baby! I'm going to keep this rated Explicit even though sex will happen in a chapter or two. Sorry guise!
Stiles woke to the sound of rapid muffled knocking; he groaned and stretched, nearly curling himself back into a ball when the knocking continued—only louder. He groaned, rolled to the side, expecting to find more mattress but instead met the floor with a solid ‘thump’. The knocking stopped. Just for a few precious heartbeats and then started up again- only more insistent.
Stiles barely remembered to pull on sweatpants as he left his room and stumbled down the stairs. He was more than a little surprised he hadn’t fallen down the stairs while tugging them on, called it a success and pushed his glasses onto his face and blinked to clear his blurry vision. The sun was blinding and he stood at the base of the stairs in a daze for several seconds.
The front door was so far away. He groaned and scrubbed a hand through his hair, taming the wild brown mess, while rubbing his face and knocking his glasses askew again. Stiles moved when he no longer felt like the sun was licking fire trails into his corneas.
He flicked the deadbolt and jerked the door open. There was a woman, small and fragile looking, eyes glowing a blue, standing on his stoop. He squinted at her; she didn’t look that much older than himself. Her nostrils flared slightly, taking his scent in before ducking around him and into his house. He stared after her for a second, she didn’t move far though.
Stiles shut the door and followed the strange woman. Had his dad’s house become a sanctuary for the supernatural while he had been gone at college? She didn’t look familiar…but then that is what happens when you spend two years with your head stuck in seven hundred pages textbooks while deciding that double majoring was the right life decision.
He scratched at his neck, “Umm? Can I…?”
“Are you Derek’s mate?”
“Derek?” His brain was still sluggish to catch up.
“Hale. Are you the Alpha’s mate?” there was urgency to her voice.
“Oh- that Derek Hale! Uh-nh-”
She looked around wildly before tucking something closer to her chest. “Listen, I knew Laura. She said if I were to ever be in trouble I should find her brother Derek.”
“Okay. Let me grab my cell, I’ll call him.” Stiles turned to run up the stairs but she was quicker.
Her hand wrapped tight around his forearm and shook her head, “No time. I have a favor to ask of you.”
“Oh-kay, what can I do to help?” Stiles brain was on high alert now.
She held the bundle out to Stiles and it wiggled. Stiles nearly had a heart attack but he took the bundle and pulled away front cover. There, staring back at him were two little glowing blue eyes. Stiles gasped and jerked to look at the woman. She held a back pack out to him and he took it on autopilot.
“Everything you need is there. Birth certificate, social, other documents he’ll need.”
“But!”
“I’m sorry but I had no place else to go too. I need you to keep him safe. This…evil is following me. They will not come after the baby.”
The woman kissed Stiles cheek, nuzzling him- a sign of comfort, then kissed the infant and left without a backwards glance. The infant must have sensed the absence of his mother; and the pure panic leaking from Stiles’ entire being because he wrinkled his nose and started to cry. Loudly.
The sound was sad and it prompted Stiles into action. He settled the baby more securely into his arms and started walking, talking softly and before things could escalate any future, he whimpered softly, then fell asleep with his head burrowed in Stiles’ neck. Stiles walked as carefully as he could back upstairs and settled the infant in the center of his bed; pillows surround either side of him and ran down to lock the front door.
He opened the backpack and found more than he was expecting, several bottles of milk wrapped in ice packs, which he tucked away in his fridge, cloth diapers, two onesies, a stuffed lamb and a folder. Inside he found a note addressed to Derek and the certificate and social. Stiles felt like he had been dropped in a bucket of ice water. He checked and rechecked the birthdate.
The infant was only five days old.
His cell was pressed to his ear before he even knew what he was doing.
Derek answered with a grunt.
“Hey Derek?”
His voice was rough from deep and it made Stiles feel better, “Stiles? It’s like 7AM?” The Alpha sounded more surprised than irritated.
“S-sorry. I sorta called on autopilot.”
“What are you doing?” the older man was beginning to sound worried.
“Looking at a birth certificate.”
Derek was silent for longer than he felt comfortable, “What?”
There was a shrill cry upstairs.
“Stiles? Get over to the loft.” He hung up and Stiles was running to grab the baby, whose name was Conner Hale.
As soon as he had Conner tucked against him the infant stopped crying, he snuffled into Stiles neck and burrowed deeper, wiggling in his swaddle.
“Okay…Stilinski…you can do this.”
Stiles had found his found his old car seat from the garage which had been a miracle in its self (i.e. Thanks dad for cleaning out the garage!). Repacked the backpack, settled the infant down inside his jeep before running inside his house to grab his own backpack, laptop and hoodie. His tucked an extra blanket over Conner to keep from getting too cold while his Jeep fought gallantly to heat up. | 140ae94640b24c0c8e923b1866652df4 | ['fb45de636c8243a48eb3f08502351d04'] | Derek spent the night sleeping on the sofa with a baby curled up on his chest, whining softly, missing Stiles, and it was breaking the alpha’s heart. Conner had finally fallen asleep Derek was able to give the docile pup a quick bath, before he diapered him and curled back to his chest. Derek growled softly in his chest, the constant rumble in his chest seemed to calm the rest of the anxiety away from the pup.
Conner fell asleep and he didn’t wake up until the next morning, whining softly when Stiles found his way into Derek’s dark bedroom and curled himself up next to them. Derek’s mind was too wired from stress to even notice until noon on Tuesday that Stiles was next to them.
Everything felt in place now.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> As always to my amazing twin! <3
5. Goodbye Winter Break
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Winter break is over and Stiles starts his online spring courses. Conner tries to crawl. Derek starts to court Stiles!
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hey guise! So I just wanted to clear some things up! This fic is a 100% domestic fluff story about Derek and Stiles raising a baby and having lots of future sex! So forgive me if there was any confusions at all! Please enjoy this short chapter! I'd like to post another tomorrow but we'll see. <3
Three weeks had flown by; Stiles had been given permission to stay at the loft all week as long as he visited home every now and again. Derek had pleaded with his dad to allow Stiles to stay permanently or at least until Conner understood how to deal with the separation. His dad had given in easier than Stiles had thought he would.
Two weeks passed and Conner was beginning relax better whenever one of his parents would leave. Stiles would reward the pup with new toys, his favorite being the present he received after the first weekend Stiles had to stay away. He had given the pup and a little wolf plush. Conner was never far without it. He’d even cry if they took him anywhere without the plush.
School had finally started back up and two weeks in Stiles had found a nice rhythm. He would read in the mornings while Conner napped, work through his homework while the pup sat next to him in his carrier watching TV and then every other day he’d visit his dad for the evening. Routines were easy and Stiles, Conner and Derek worked well with them.
Derek felt guilty that Stiles had to completely uproot his life but he didn’t mind, he was able to stay and take care of Conner and it filled his heart with such joy he couldn’t stop smiling.
Stiles was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the den while Conner wiggled around next to him on the blanket.
“Hey little dude,” Stiles said, tickling his stomach.
Conner giggled and wiggled, basking in the undivided attention.
“Derek says you’re gonna grow twice as fast as a normal baby. Soon you’ll start to roll and in a months you’ll be able to crawl!”
Conner watched him with the same inquisitive eyes.
“Daddy is definitely not ready for you to be crawling.” Stiles whispered softly, stroking the soft curls at the top of his head. “Love you pup.”
At two months old Conner had already claimed Stiles and Derek as his parents and his wolf associated them as their caregivers. Stiles settled his laptop down and stretched out next to the pup, on his side facing the wee one. Conner immediately cuddled closer, wriggling until there was no space between them. They stayed like that for the longest time, until Derek walked back into the loft, the noise had both of them looking up, watching the alpha.
Derek stood in the doorway and stared back before moving inside to settle the grocery bags down. Stiles kissed Conner’s head before running to help Derek. Between the two of them working in tandem they managed to get everything inside in one go. When the cabinets and fridge had been restocked, they made their way back inside the den, stopping quickly when Conner decided to try something new.
He rolled on his tummy and one harsh wiggle and pushed up, Derek and Stiles watched in awe as Conner took one crawl forward before slumping back onto his belly and laughing, thrashing excitedly.
“Did he just attempt to crawl?” Stiles asked slowly.
“Yeah, he did.” Derek answered back in the same tone of surprise.
Stiles ran to pick up Conner, praising him, kissing his cheeks and blowing raspberries on his neck. Conner’s giggles were shrill and full of happiness.
“I can’t believe you did that! Good boy Conner!” more kisses and nibbles to the baby werewolf.
Derek took him, held him close, rubbing their foreheads together before growling softly in his chest. Stiles felt himself being dragged closer and pulled into the little werewolf twosome. Stiles sighed and hugged back, reveling in the warm embrace. Stiles could feel his cheeks begin to blush and he fought to make sure his body didn’t react to the closeness of Derek.
Derek brushed his lips passed Stiles’ temple and his heart rate started to pick up. He bit his lip and focused all his attention on the baby cuddled close to them not his shaft beginning to lengthen and thicken against Derek’s hip.
Stiles gulped. This was going to be a long day.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> As always this is dedicated to my twin! <3
6. Chapter 6
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Derek finally kissed Stiles! Conner cockblocks. Stiles is once again called pack mom.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hey guise! Sorry about the two week delay but I ended up getting bogged down with finals and finishing up some last minute cosplay projects for Otakon. So hope you enjoy! |
f121daa9cc7d4091a52ca3dc0d5e5e7c | ['fb747d31fdfe4561a07257ee9f5b6b6e'] | "Dinner's ready," she calls, looking over at Steve and Tony with a knowing grin. "Will you be joining us this time?"
Steve rolls his eyes. "Yes, of course."
"Someone call Bruce," Tony says, climbing down from the couch. "Gotta get the whole family in on this."
Steve stops for a moment as he's swinging his legs over the side of the couch. He's never heard Tony refer to them as a family before. Their eyes meet for a moment as Natasha is greeting Thor and Clint, and Steve gives Tony a slightly puzzled look. Tony just smiles, a real, genuine smile, and motions for Steve to follow them back to the kitchen.
He does, without hesitation.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I'd like to take a moment to thank everyone for your support of this story. It turns out this is the longest work I've ever written, and it looks to be the first multi-chapter fic I will see through to its very end. This is a big deal for me, and your positive feedback has been instrumental in making that happen. Thank you. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and will enjoy the finale that follows.
7. Epilogue
Natasha leads the group back to the kitchen, where she’s prepared a full dinner for all of them. She’s more excited than she’s ready to admit for the six of them to be back together again. And, of course, she’s relieved to see Clint again.
The man in question catches up to her, brushing their fingers together as he passes. She smiles softly.
“Welcome home,” she whispers, and he smiles.
“Glad to be here.” He grabs her hand for a fraction of a second, giving it a gentle squeeze, before racing ahead of her into the kitchen.
Behind them, Tony picks up the end of the line, waiting briefly in the living room for Steve to drag himself off the couch. Steve sidles up to him, hands shoved in his pockets.
“That was awkward,” Tony says, and Steve laughs.
“Yeah, well.” He bites his lip and looks sheepishly at Tony. His tone becomes serious. “What’s happening here?” he says in a low voice, almost a whisper.
“What do you mean?”
Steve gestures between the two of them. “This. Us. What’s happening?”
“Oh.” Tony shifts nervously. “I don’t know, really.”
Their hands brush together, and Steve gently strokes Tony’s wrist with his thumb. Tony leans into it, allowing Steve to grasp his hand gently.
“I’m yours, if you want me.” Tony looks up at Steve in disbelief. He’s completely serious.
Tony laughs, breathless and surprised. “Of course I want you.”
Steve smiles. “Good.” He squeezes Tony’s hand gently before letting go, slipping into the kitchen. Tony follows him in a daze.
The others are seated around the kitchen table as Natasha dishes out salads. She’s prepared a full three-course dinner, and apparently done a pretty good job of it. Steve takes the seat net to Thor, giving Tony a warm smile across the table. He returns it and sits between Bruce and Clint, opposite Steve.
Natasha leans across Clint to finish setting the table, and Steve notices her hand squeezing his shoulder, a small but intimate gesture, and he can’t help but smile. Natasha looks at him quickly, silently mouthing “shh.” He busies himself with the salad dressing as Natasha takes the seat beside him, kicking him playfully under the table.
“Welcome back, everyone.” Natasha grins. “And congrats on your dick, Steve.”
Steve blushes and looks down at the table. Tony snorts.
“Amen to that,” he says, and Bruce makes a choking noise.
Tony’s foot nudges Steve under the table, and he smirks. Steve shakes his head, laughing silently.
This is their life now. Thor’s booming laugh as Tony picks at Bruce, pushing his nerves just enough to get a reaction, but not enough to hurt. Clint, silently observing everyone, adding snappy retorts here and there. Natasha and Steve’s playful, flirty banter, even while Natasha sits with her ankle wrapped protectively around Clint’s. And now Steve and Tony, not-so-subtly sneaking glances from across the table.
“Tony and Steve, please stop eye-fucking across the table. We’ve already seen enough.” Everyone laughs as Bruce gives them both a withering glare.
“Sorry,” Steve mumbles into his spaghetti. Tony just grins.
There’s no denying it. They’re a family now. It’s not perfect, and it’s not what anyone in their right mind would call “normal,” but it’s theirs. And between Natasha, Tony, and all the others, Steve can’t see why he would need anything else. | 43146ec588494e6fb7c3667d6182f95b | ['fb747d31fdfe4561a07257ee9f5b6b6e'] | Bucky laughs. “I did, at first. Well, definitely at first, since Peggy was dating the boy I was in love with.”
Steve giggles. “He hated you, Pegs. It was awful.”
“...anyway, it took some getting used to. But she’s good for him, I can’t deny that. So if he’s happy, I’m happy.”
Bruce nods. “That’s...really big of you.”
Peggy beams.
They all gather on the curb outside the reception hall to see the boys off as they drive to the airport. Pepper had no say in choosing the honeymoon destination, deciding to leave it up to Tony, so none of them are sure where they’re going. Their cab disappears down the road, and as they all retreat back to the building, Sam turns to face the rest of the group.
“So who’s next?”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Short plug for LINK, a band you should definitely check out. Steve, Sam, and Pepper would highly recommend it ;)
>
> The art for this fic (done by the fabulously talented LINK) can be found LINK.
>
> Thanks so much to my beta LINK and my cheerleader/idea-bouncer-offer LINK. You guys are the best. |
b68cbde5febf45c1aa6227f8ad1721fe | ['fb7e037b08554efbbcf9aea198499a80'] | When the Sky Disappeared
**Author's Note:**
> reposted from FF net
That day, the sky disappeared.
For a moment, all across the world, no one could see a speck of blue.
The sun beat too bright, the clouds clustered too dark, and the mist coalesced too gray. Rain poured, thunder roared, and storms howled with grief.
However—like a dream—it soon faded from memory, so few would dwell upon the mysterious phenomena.
But for the mafia world, that moment marked the end of the Golden Era.
That day, the Vongola Decimo died.
...
As soon as he heard the gunshot, Gokudera flung open the doors of the meeting room. At the resounding slam, a courteous silence descended upon the room, and an aisle cleared between him and the fallen form of his boss.
Tsu…na? he called tentatively.
The only response was a crack of lightning and the wailing of the wind.
Alone in his room, Lambo cowered at the sudden burst of lightning. But before he could dive under the covers and shout for Maman, the floor shook with the deep rumble of thunder.
He clutched the wall instead and cried: Tsuna-nii, where are you?
From atop the roof of Namimori Middle School, Hibari frowned at the darkening cluster of clouds. They were supposed to spread freely across the wide skies, so why were they crowding together as such?
His frown deepened into a scowl: Why, Sawada Tsunayoshi, aren't you fixing this mess?
Near the end of his mid-morning run, Ryohei found himself blinded by a strong flash of light. He heard the people around him mutter about a solar flare, but he knew better. It had to be a message from his extreme little bro—his boxer's instinct told him so.
Sawada, stay Extreme! he shouted toward the heavens
Chrome froze, trident millimeters from the man's throat. He grovelled at her feet for mercy, but she ignored him—she wouldn't have killed him anyway. Instead, she focused on the fog that had suddenly surrounded them. Not the familiar mist of Mukuro-sama, but an ominous other that made her feel so small and alone.
Boss… a whispered chant that kept the loneliness at bay
Across the field from Chrome, Mukuro too puzzled over the dense mist. It held such a sinister, sorrowful aura that it had distracted him from his target—it wasn't until he heard the man scream and keel over did he realize he'd probably broken the man's mind.
He veiled his unease behind a sardonic grin: Oops… sorry 'bout that, Tsunayoshi-kun
Abruptly, in the middle of another meeting on the other side of the world, Yamamoto stood with a start. As curious glances turned upon him, he hastily sat back down with a quavering smile and reassurance that all was fine. But his stomach churned and his ears filled with the pounding cry of rain.
His smile faded: Tsuna… don't leave us yet
...
At twilight, the sky burned orange;
The elements had withdrawn to grieve | efcc8c0bd75845bb9331c028ee4ec795 | ['fb7e037b08554efbbcf9aea198499a80'] |
His Smile
Yamamoto smiles.
By now, it's a reflex. Like throwing whatever he's caught back with ten times the force. Natural.
Curl lips upward. Crinkle Eyes. Raise brows slightly. Smile. Laugh.
And all is right.
But something seems off. Unnatural.
He doesn't know if he's imagining it.
He doesn't know if it's real anymore.
Yet Yamamoto smiles.
…
It appears without him knowing, sometimes. His smile.
Creeps across his face without his knowledge.
In the midst of talks of blood and murder and body counts and war, it appears. Unbeckoned.
He doesn't notice until he sees Tsuna or Gokudera eyeing him warily.
But even then, he can't seem to wipe it off his face.
It sits there, unmoved. A mind of its own.
…
It scares him sometimes, his smile.
When he looks in the mirror, he sees it. Sharp. Sharper than even Shigure Kintoki's edge.
No wonder people back away when he smiles.
There's something dark lurking beneath the surface.
Under those chapped lips and bright white teeth, a monster lies. Waiting to be let loose.
Yamamoto doesn't know what will happen if he lets it escape.
He doesn't know how it will escape. When it will run rampant.
He hopes never. But he doesn't know.
So he just keeps smiling.
…
It wasn't always like this. His smile.
Once upon a time, people smiled when he did.
Once upon a time, he smiled because he was happy. Content. Optimistic.
And he still is, he thinks. Happy. Content. Optimistic.
Or is he?
Tsuna is fine, so Yamamoto is happy.
Yamamoto himself is still alive, so he is content.
There will always be a tomorrow, so he is optimistic.
Or so he tells himself.
Honestly, he doesn't know what to think.
So he smiles instead.
…
He thinks Tsuna is scared of it now, his smile.
Whenever Tsuna sees it, his eyes widen ever so slightly and his mouth pulls into a frown.
Yamamoto used to dismiss it as concern. Now he's not sure.
At his smile, Tsuna flinches a bit. Draws into himself ever so slightly.
Even Hibari looks a bit disconcerted in the face of it.
Mukuro just grins back, chuckling like a madman.
Like he's found someone who shares his secret.
But Yamamoto doesn't know.
At least, he thinks he doesn't know.
Perhaps he does.
Or perhaps it's only his smile that knows.
…
The day after he finds out about his father's death, Yamamoto smiles.
The day of, he didn't. He tried to draw it out when Tsuna asked if he was okay.
But is seemed to have left. Disappeared along with his dad.
Even when Squalo barged into his room after the funeral demanding a fight, he couldn't smile.
He tried. Curl lips upward. Crinkle eyes. Raise brows slightly. Grimace. Choke.
Squalo snorted and proceeded to skewer him.
The next day, his smile was back.
His dad was not.
…
Last week, he saw Chrome. He smiled in greeting.
She looked at him, that clear violet eye locked on his clear (dull?) brown ones.
Then asked if he's okay. He laughed, said he's fine.
She shook her head, said to stop lying.
Yamamoto blinked. He's fine, he insisted. And smiled to prove it.
She looked at him, pity reflected in that clear violet eye.
It's clear she doesn't believe him.
Heck, he doesn't even believe himself. Why should she?
But Yamamoto can't wipe away the smile that mars his face.
…
Reborn is watching him now. Watching his smile from beneath the brim of his fedora.
Natural born hitman, he'd once said of Yamamoto. Yamamoto had laughed it off, good naturedly.
Perhaps the kid was right though. He's the go-to for assassinations and stealth.
Even more so than the Mists. They went for torture; he went to kill.
And kill he did. One man. Then another. And another.
The bodies kept piling up. Too many to keep track of.
Yet Yamamoto still keeps count. As of last night, exactly 174 impaled through the heart.
93 beheaded. 19 of blood loss. Another 68 by his sniping.
He's still 100s bodies less than Gokudera. 500 or so behind Mukuro. 1000s away from Hibari.
But Yamamoto doesn't kill in bulk.
Sometimes wishes he does, though.
At least then, they'd remain nameless. Faceless. Just another body.
With assassinations, Yamamoto spends a week researching and another tailing, until he knows his target inside and out.
Their scowls, their smiles. Their frowns, their laughs. And, of course, their Achilles heel.
Names, faces, souls. Their last moments branded in his memory.
354 deaths forever on replay.
…
The first few times, he turned to liquor to clear his memories. Think happy thoughts. Smile.
Gokudera told him that's how he used to cope, so Yamamoto tried it.
When he'd wander back to the Vongola Mansion those times, dead drunk, Tsuna would sigh and spend the night sitting vigil over him, brows furrowed in worry.
All the while, he'd mutter _I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry_ over and over and over again.
At those times, Yamamoto wanted to reach over and iron out those creases, catch each apology and throw back an _It's okay It's okay It's not your fault_ with ten times the force.
But his body didn't obey him. Only a smile danced across his lips.
Yamamoto decided after the third time that he's the worse type of drunkard.
His body moves in all the wrong ways, but his mind is still alert, remembering all.
So now he forgoes the drinking and skips straight to smiling.
It still doesn't help.
…
Reborn's eyes are cold obsidian. He feels them watching his every step. Every smile.
Right, natural born hitman. They share that bond. And what a bond it is. What a trio they make.
Yamamoto, Reborn, and Death, the third wheeler. It creeps into their every conversation.
How ya doing, kid? Yamamoto asks, even though Reborn isn't a kid anymore. |
710466529b7c49208bb795481d657ed2 | ['fb8f29781ce540d3a6e563910208a45c'] | You knew that ever since the agreement was signed, 76 had been acting very strangely, avoiding you at every instance he could. You were told that 76 managed to hold himself together at the signing despite his enhanced urges, but now that it was past the signing, it quickly overpowered him. You were deeply concerned about him though, as from your knowledge, natural human urges shouldn’t be restricting your daily functioning. But then again, you wouldn’t know much about this problem in the first place. You cursed at yourself for the first time for not being experienced enough to fully understand what others were going. There was a small part of you, however, that believed that his urges were amplified because of the SEP enhancements, but then again, you’re not an expert, so couldn’t be just too sure.
Reinhardt and Lena watched you as you left the arena without a word, heading to the med bay, your anxious face notifying them that you shouldn’t be disturbed.
You arrived at the door of the med bay shortly after departing the damaged indoor training arena. Your hand firmly grasped the button on the side, but the mumbling of voices halted you. Leaning in and pressing your ear to the door, you began to listen, hoping that someone in the room would let you know the condition of the commander.
“It’s been thirty years since he’s had these urges Angela.” a low, partially cackling voice said.
Commander Ana.
“I am fully aware, Ana.”
“He normally should be fine, but that program-”
“I am also fully aware that the SEP enhancements have affected the intensity of his natural urges. Based on the information I obtained from the program, the effects of the enhancements should have peaked when the subject is in the late twenties to early thirties, but considering that the urges have returned, Jack’s definitely one of the few people, _the few surviving people_ , who are outliers on the model.”
Ah, so you were right.
But who’s Jack?
Jack Morrison?
What does he have to do with Soldier 76?
Wait.
** _Wait_**.
In your deep state of thought processing the connection between the name Jack and Soldier 76, you didn’t realize that your hand had slipped, accidentally pushing the button that opened the door, and you tumbled in the med bay, the gears in your head still turning. You were so focused in your analysis of finding a connection between the old strike commander Jack Morrison and the current strike commander Soldier 76 that you didn’t feel yourself being hoisted up onto a hospital bed. Ana moved into your line of sight, which you clearly saw, but you were just so out of it you couldn’t hear what she was saying.
“-food,” you heard.
Food? The word danced around in your head, disengaging the whirring gears and breaking your thoughts.
**Food!**
“OH MY GOD, I HAVEN’T EATEN YET,” you yelled, finally snapping out of your thoughts, giving yourself a complimentary slap on the face for not focusing (and embarrassing yourself in front of Commander Amari, wow).
Ana cackled, clapping her hands.
“It seems Jack’s muse needs her dose of nutrition for the morning. I’ll go fetch her breakfast. Explain to her.” Ana smiled at you, turned around and waved, walking out of the med bay to fetch you some food.
You blinked, and Angela placed her hand on your shoulder, blocking the view of your right side temporarily. Based on her position, it’s safe to say that 76, no, _Jack_ , was on the other side of Angela, laying there on another bed. Also based on her position, it’s safe to say that Jack’s visor was off of his face. You knew very well that besides Angela, Winston and Ana knew the face underneath the visor. Craning your head towards Angela, you apologized to her for your brash actions at the arena, running into Jack’s line of fire without analyzing what the consequences would be.
“Well, ___, it’s a good thing that Ana and Fareeha arrived just in time to immobilize Jack and destroy his helix rockets before it did any harm. Though I must admit, I have never would have guessed that you could be able to summon a phoenix with your arms. I have only seen you wielding a particle cannon like Aleksandra.”
You laughed, scratching your head. “That’s a long story…I’ll tell you and the rest of them another time.”
“How have the past three nights gone for you? Have you enjoyed it?”
Blushing, you explained to Angela that you definitely had an amazing time, and you never knew that Genji, Hanzo, or McCree would be that kinky. After all, they’ve been alive longer than you, so they most certainly know how to work the bedroom. Angela smiled at you.
“Angela?”
“Yes?”
“What does Jack, wait, no, _76_ , end up doing when he’s got the change to relieve himself of his urges?”
Angela tilted her head, staring carefully into your eyes.
“There’s no need for you to call him 76 when you are with people who know his identity. Call him Jack, he would much appreciate that.”
“But wouldn’t I be disrespecting my commanding officer by calling him on a first name basis?”
The doctor waved her head no.
“If you were any other agent in Overwatch, yes, but since you are a special case, no. He hasn’t been called that name in a while, and I am positive that he would like it when you refer to him by that name, especially for tonight.”
You shook your head in understanding. Angela was still blocking Jack from your side. | 040abdd9e1714ee485a3a9be30d83bbd | ['fb8f29781ce540d3a6e563910208a45c'] | He walked around you, kneeling down behind you. You heard the bottle of lube open, and the cold feeling of the liquid pouring down your crack made you shiver. Hanzo’s fingers skillfully prepared your back hole, rubbing his pointer finger flush against your little pucker, causing you to clench. Bad and good idea. You pulsed on the back, but when you clenched your pussy, the vibrations from the sybian enhanced tenfold, forcing a high pitched cry out of your precum stained mouth.
Hanzo growled and slid a finger inside your ass, twisting it around and pumping it, the amount of lube easily allowing him access. He prodded inside you, minimally stretching you out, causing you to clamp down every now and then, which made you repeat those same high pitched mewling from earlier. Hanzo slid in another finger, the man scissoring you swiftly and powerfully, stretching you out as he prepared you for the main course. A third finger was added shortly thereafter, and you hissed, the pleasure and unfamiliar feeling of actual fingers inside your ass sending a wave of euphoria throughout your body. You desperately wanted to touch yourself, feel yourself, but the colorful restraints Hanzo had you in had you lost.
Hanzo’s fingers slid out of your ass, deeming you stretched far enough for him to allow access into you. He walked back around you, shoving his throbbing cock in your mouth once again, his hands keeping your head still. He began thrusting inside your mouth, the sensation of his manhood kissing your throat earning grunts of satisfaction. Hanzo gradually increased the pace, and used his foot to push the knob on the controller up one notch. The vibrations surged through you, the pumping hastening. You could feel yourself on the brink of pure euphoria, and the main course hadn’t even started. Hanzo thoroughly fucked your mouth at an easy pace, not too harsh, which was very enjoyable.
Each thrust he made, your nose would get tickled by his hair, which sent tingles down your spine. Suddenly, he thrust full force into your mouth, catching you in surprise, and you stared at his sex driven face, skin sweating heavily. He was lost in his world, his thrusts powerfully hitting the back of your throat. You growl in response, your hums shaking Hanzo’s body, careening him towards his edge. He pulled your head closer to his powerful thrusts, and a few moments later, he pushed his cock as far as it could go inside your mouth, shooting his cum down your throat, coating your tract with his precious, white liquid. At the same time, the sybian below you had accomplished its first objective of the night, and you squirted your juices on the saddle, liquid pouring out from the sides and staining the pillows underneath your legs. You shuddered violently, riding out the waves of your first orgasm of the night.
Hanzo pulled out of your mouth, you coughing lightly, with some cum dribbling down your throat. He kneeled in front of you, licking your face, wiping his cum off. With his cum on his beard and most in his mouth, he roughly pressed his mouth to yours, the two of you eating the cum off his mouth. He pulled away, and you swallowed what was in your mouth, earning a smile from the man.
“Good girl,” he hissed. Walking back around, he grabbed the controller of the sybian. You heard some shuffling behind you as Hanzo prepared himself for you, pumping himself for the second round.
“Mmm, Hanzo…” you cooed.
Hanzo closed the gap in between you two, his cock rubbing against your ass and your lower back. There were two notches left on the sybian’s controller, and you spied Hanzo flicking the knob one notch. His sybian began to shake, and you shrieked, the vibrating and pumping causing the synthetic cock to pound into you, a degree higher than the two men who consumed you there.
Hanzo poured more lube onto his cock, ensuring that he would slide in smoothly.
“Hanzo, please!” your voice trembling, faltering, the pleasure ricocheting in your body affecting your ability to speak. A drawer opened, and you heard the sound of fabric being pulled out of it. What else does Hanzo want to do with you tonight?
You gasped loudly as Hanzo mercilessly slid his thick cock inside your ass, pushing in deep, the size of him and the sybian’s working quickly unraveling your disheveled state. Hanzo grunted, thrusting into your ass, eventually matching the speed of the machine below you.
“Ah, **fuck** , Hanzo, ah-!” A foreign object silenced you, you realizing that the fabric Hanzo had pulled out behind you being quickly tied around your mouth. Another fabric was being taken out of his dresser, and you closed your eyes, anticipating them to be covered up next. You were right on the money.
He tightly yet comfortably wrapped fabric around your eyes, creating a makeshift blindfold. Whatever was going to happen next you wouldn’t know, the deprivation of your senses and your incapacitated movement being submit to the Japanese behind you. A _click_ indicated that Hanzo had turned the knob to its highest setting, and you bawled in your mouth gag. In an instant the machine below you began violently shaking, your pussy being rigorously pounded into, with the ninja behind you effortlessly matching the rhythm of the machine. You could feel his cock vibrating in your ass as well, as the shaking of the sybian was _extremely_ intense.
Hanzo grunted loudly behind you, slapping your ass and gripping it tightly in his hands as he penetrated your ass, deep. |
fcab42a5a38a43b09016e3b876e1e527 | ['fb9e1aeda3f6491c800f5cc42f7fccdc'] | “I can’t BELIEVE I’m doing this for you Sportanut,” he growled, grabbing him by the wrist. He almost led him over to his damp, yet now immaculate, chair, but decided against it. Instead, he shoved him against his kitchen counter. “Listen closely, because I’m only going to explain this once, and I’m only going to _do_ this for you once. This,” Robbie reached down and gently caressed Sportacus’ dick through his pants, causing the sports elf to let out a choked moan as his eyes fluttered close. He slowly started to rub and massage it with his hand. “Is an erection, which is when your penis becomes hard when you get turned on, sexually.”
“R-Robbie…” Sportacus whimpered. He had to grab onto the other man’s shoulder as to not collapse from Robbie’s ministrations. “Wh- What do I do to get rid of it?” His voice was so small that it was almost a whisper. His leg was wedged in between Robbie’s, and he could feel him growing harder against him. He wanted to ask, about why Robbie was getting turned on as well, but when he felt a warm, slightly calloused hand wrap around his shaft, he had to bite down on his bottom lip to stop all the moans from slipping out of his mouth.
“I’ll show you,” he whispered into Sportacus’ ear, nipping his lobe and tugging on it before moving back to look at his face. Robbie was extremely grateful that for once he hadn’t work his hat. He maneuvered one hand to tug down Sportacus’ pants, while the other continued to stroke his cock. “You do this with your hand, or, if there’s someone you’re close with, they can help you out too.”
”I-is that why y-your helping me? Because we are close?” Despite the unbridled ecstasy coursing through his body, a small swelling of hope made his heart skip a few beats. Maybe he was getting through to Robbie, why else would he be helping him twice within one day, within a couple _hours_? He really hoped that Robbie was thinking of him as a best friend, and it’s why he was helping. Isn’t that what best friends do? Help each other?
“Don’t get your hopes up Sportaflop, I’m only helping you because it’s pathetic you don’t even know about your own bodily functions,” he sneered, swiping his thumb across the head of Sportacus’ dick, which made him take in a sharp, shaky breath.
Sportacus couldn’t stop his hips from bucking into the touch. Although Robbie was acting callous towards him, he knew that Robbie was lying. Say it was just a hunch, or wishful thinking.
Either way, he felt like he was on top of the world. Although he still found the noises Robbie was eliciting from him to be embarrassing, although it was a small burden to carry compared to what Robbie must be feeling. Sportacus wanted to tease him, maybe make him taste a little of his own medicine, but every time he went to form words, none could come out. It felt as if he was being choked, yet he could still breathe. And when he did manage to make noises, they were moans, groans, and whimpers. “How will I know when I’m done?” he asked quietly.
Robbie smirked whenever he heard Sportacus make a noise. He was pretty ineffective as a villain, so it was rare for him to draw such a strong reaction out of Sportacus. _He_ was the one with all the control right now, and it felt pretty damned good. “You keep going until you can’t bear it anymore, then you orgasm. White stuff called cum with come out of your dick, and you feel amazing.”
“Even more amazing than you’re making me feel right now?”
Robbie mind went blank, and at that exact moment he’d have to do everything in his power to give this elf his first and best orgasm ever. He was just going to jerk him off until spilled over his hand he had an even better idea on how to get the elf to completely lose himself. Normally something like this would be completely out of the question, but as his mind was clouded in a haze of lust, he had lost all ability to care.
When Robbie left him, Sportacus nearly fell to the floor with a high pitched keen. If the other man was right about this being a normal body function, then he had no clue how anyone could deal with it. His body felt like it was on fire, and like he had just drunk an entire pot of coffee in one sitting, although couldn’t make his body move. While what Robbie was doing felt better than anything he could ever imagine, him leaving suddenly without a word left him reeling. It left him feeling like he had this irritable itch deep inside him. And if Robbie wasn’t here at this exact moment…
It felt strange to pleasure himself with his own hand. It didn’t feel as good as Robbie, with his warm skin and experience, but it was still better than nothing. He breathed heavily and continued stroking himself until Robbie came back from wherever he went. He longed to feel him pressed up against him, warm puffs of breath on his neck, Robbie’s eyes dark and hooded… Something inside of his twanged at the mere thought of the man, and he would have doubled over if one of his hands wasn’t grabbing onto the edge of the counter for dear life. | b0c07f0012c0402da82df4db640859df | ['fb9e1aeda3f6491c800f5cc42f7fccdc'] | “There’s nothing anyone can do…” he grumbled, standing up and pushing his chair back. He scraped off the remains of dinner on his plate into the trash before letting his dish clatter into the sink. “Why are you even here in the first place? Don’t you usually go off and do your flipping God knows where on Sunday?”
“My crystal went off! So I came back to help you!”
Robbie paused for a moment on his way back to his chair. He couldn’t be act grouchy towards Sportacus now, not with those big ol’ puppy dog eyes he knew the elf was making. He clenched his fists at his sides before turning around on his heel. “Well I’m not in trouble, but since you’re here anyways, and probably haven’t eaten a decent meal in years, help yourself to the leftovers before I put them away.”
That seemed to perk Sportadork right up as he made a dash to the pot of mashed potatoes and shoved his hand in. Or at least he would have if Robbie wasn’t there to grab him by the arm.
“What are you doing?! Do you not know how to eat a proper meal?” From the ashamed look on the kook’s face, and from the drooping of his mustache, he assumed not. “Ugh, just sit down, I’ll make you up a plate since you’re so completely incompetent at even the simplest of tasks.” He went about doing so, not daring to look back at Sportadip, knowing he’d be making one of his stupid faces, again.
The food was still warm, not that it was all that surprising. He set down a full plate with a fork sticking out of the mashed potatoes, and a tall glass of milk in front of him, and Sportaflop stared at it like it was the eighth wonder of the world. “And be sure to use a fork, you uncouthed beast.”
Sportacus gave him one of those smiles before taking the fork in hand. “Okay Robbie.” That dork got a bit of everything on his fork before piling it into his mouth, and from the noises he made, Robbie was almost certain that the elf had just cum in his pants. “Oh Robbie this is so delicious! I never knew you could cook so well!” he spoke through a mouthful of half chewed up food.
He grimaced, and reached over to wipe off some food that had dribbled out of his mouth with a napkin. “Yeah, well, you’ve never exactly eaten any of it before. And keep your mouth closed while you’re chewing food!”
Sportanerd clamped his mouth shut and nodded his head before finally finish chewing and swallowing his food, and taking a long drink of milk. “I really regret not doing it sooner. You were already an amazing man, but you being able to cook food that’s so delicious made you even more amazing! I didn’t even know that was possible!”
And just like that the façade that Robbie had carefully built up came tumbling down. He nearly leaped across the table to grab Sportacus by his vest and drag him into a kiss. It wasn’t exactly perfect, too much teeth clacking and saliva, and his mouth still tasted like milk, but Sportacus made these adorable, pathetic whimpers as Robbie continued to ravage his mouth.
When he parted, he left the elf confused, with reddened, spittle covered lips. He was panting, which was a rare, but particularly pleasant sight. “R-Robbie? What was-?”
Said man in question had already made his way around the table, and was dragging Sportacus up and pushing him against the counter.
A very, very familiar part of the counter.
“You’re such an idiot, you know that, right? You’ve been driving me crazy for months now and you haven’t even noticed!”
“I-I’m sorry? If this is about sports-”
“It’s not about sports, god damn it! When will you notice that I love you Sportafool!”
Everything in the bunker went quiet after his words rang out. His face turned beet red, and Sportacus’ mouth hung open. Robbie pushed off of him, turning his back.
“Get out. I’ve already embarrassed myself once this night.” Instead of hearing the sound of flips exiting his lair, to where the owner of said flips would probably go gossip about his horrible secret to everyone in town, which would he he’d be ridiculed, _again_ , and instead of driving the damned fool out of town, _he_ would be the one driven out of town, he heard soft footsteps, and then a strong, warm pair of arms wrap around him.
“I love you too Robbie! We are best frie-”
Robbie pried himself from the elf’s iron like grasp, and spun around like a whirlwind to face him. “Shut up! I don’t love you like a friend, or a best friend you idiot! I’m _in_ love with you! I want to spend the rest of my god damn life with you, and for you to fuck me into my mattress every night, and then wake up to your stupid, gorgeous face every morning!” As soon as his last word left his lips, he clamped his hands over his mouth, eyes blown open wide.
Sportacus gasped. “R-Robbie… I had no idea…” Instead of rushing off to tell everyone about Robbie’s flaw, like every other man he had confessed his love to in the past, he clung to him tightly, nearly squeezing the air out of him. “The truth is Robbie,” he whispered softly, so unlike himself that Robbie could barely believe it was the same man who had flipped into his heart. “I- I love you too. I’ve been saying you were my best friend, because I care about you, a lot, but I didn’t know you felt the same way. I thought you hated me, more than anything, so I didn’t say anything…”
He slid his hands down from where they were trapped against his chest, and gently placed them on Sportacus’ hips. God, he wanted to believe this was real. He wanted more than anything to wake up and not be drooling on his pillow. “You’re not going to tell everyone?”
Sportacus leaned back and gave a puzzled look. “Well of course I’m going to tell everybody! I want them all to know that I’m in love! But, if you’re not comfortable, I won’t.”
Robbie stared at him for a bit. It was only really a few seconds but it felt like an eternity, glaring into those deep blue pools. And then he started laughing, hysterically before burying his face into Sportacus’ chest.
“Is everything alright? Did I say something wrong?” Sportacus asked, crouching down in order to look Robbie in the eyes. He gently caressed Robbie’s cheek with one of his hands, softly rubbing his thumb across the pale skin beneath it.
“It’s nothing. Everything is perfect, I just… I love you, Sportacus.”
He broke out into the biggest grin ever, bright enough to light up Robbie’s gloomy heart. “I love you too Robbie!”
**Author's Note:**
> Over half of this was written at 12-7 am in the midst of several panic attacks so have fun trying to decipher whatever the fuck i wrote |
ab40209c5ffc4660b2a8d5b93190ea40 | ['fbbf20930abf407697e824af6aa1ef54'] |
Sex or Murder?
**Author's Note:**
> Based on LINK prompt.
“Yeah, it was horrible,” Sansa said, concluding the story of her awful first sexual experience. Joffrey Baratheon apparently wasn’t as nearly as good as he bragged. “So, what was your first time like?”
“Well…” Ramsay began, though he wasn’t sure of what to say. He sat at the edge of Sansa’s bed. Beside him she sat with legs curled up beneath her. The hem of the skirt she wore rested high on her thigh. Throughout her story he’d found himself constantly peeking down to see if would ride up, though it stayed in place.
Ramsay was quiet while he tried to decide how to answer. "Um, did you mean murder or sex?” He tried to keep his tone playful.
Softly she giggled and said, “Sex.”
“Oh, well… I’ve never had sex,” he admitted quietly.
“Really?” she said, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
“Really.”
She tilted her head to the side, eyeing him suspiciously. “Like, you haven’t done anything at all?”
“Nothing.” He was beginning to feel annoyed.
Her fingers moved to play with the butterfly necklace that dangled in her cleavage. He watched her twist the little pendent around. “Like you haven’t even-”
“Nothing.”
“Ok, how about murder then?” she teased.
He sighed happily, leaning his head back and closed his eyes as he recalled the memory. “It was beautiful.”
The mattress shifted as Sansa leaned in a little closer. Her hair fell from her shoulders framing her face. For a second he thought she might kiss him. "Tell me all about it," she said.
“Well,” he started, and for a moment he wanted to tell her truth, but he knew he shouldn’t. He thought of lying and simply telling her he was joking around, or make up an outlandish story. But the opportunity to admit everything to her seemed too much to pass up. He’d never told anyone about the girl in the park.
“Well?” She moved a bit closer. He dared to put his arm around her back, resting his hand respectfully on her waist.
He started his little confession just as she set her hand to his collarbone and began running over his chest. Gradually it moved lower and lower. Even just her hand rubbing over his belly button was getting him excited. His mind drifted away from his story and he paused. He thought about what her hand was going to do. It made him excited. Thinking about fucking her was getting him excited. Thinking about peeling off her skin was getting him excited. Thinking about her watching him rape someone and then fucking her was getting him excited. Tie her up, make her watch him with someone else, then when he was finished he could have his way with her.
When he turned to Sansa he found there was a look in her eyes. She was getting excited too, he realized. Looking back down he found her fingers lingering by his belt.
He continued talking. Sansa didn’t seem phased by his story. More than anything she probably thought she was hearing something fabricated. But there wasn’t anything fictional in his answer. Had she just let it slip how fucked up in the head she was? He certainly was. What person would be so casual about such a thing? They barely knew each other and there he was, confessing to homicide after only a few dates. It was a bit foolish. Even so he kept talking, waiting to see if he scared her. Patiently he waited for that moment where she'd look at him and think oh gods he's not joking is he, but it didn't come.
While he babbled on with minor details her hand ran down his thigh. His words cut as her hand ran over his cock. He couldn’t remember where in his little story he was. Instead he stared down as she stroked him through his jeans.
Sansa was probably more intrigued by his lack of sexual experience. Maybe she liked that he was a virgin. Even as he prattled on about murdering a woman, did his virginity make him seem harmless? Murder definitely wasn’t getting her horny. Thinking about deflowering him, that was what was making her wet.
Maybe Sansa was a little deranged herself? Maybe she was "into that kind of thing"? He was talking about death and there she was trying to get him hard. There was something seductive in the way she looked at him. He wondered if he was inadvertently turning her on. He desperately wanted to tear off her clothes, see if she in fact was getting wet. That wasn't how things were done. Not with someone he was meant to be dating. Not their first time together, and certainly not with her entire family in the house.
"Keep talking." Her tone had changed. It was more sensual now. By then he was stiff, wanting desperately to grab her hand and shove into his pants.
“Um, it was sunny… kinda…” he mumbled. His full attention was now on her wandering hand. While he tried to reclaim his train of thought she went about unzipping his pants. “Um…”
She shifted closer to lean her head on his shoulder, one hand slipping underneath the elastic of his boxers. His body tensed in anticipation of her touch. The tips of her fingers ran over his cock. He raised his hips and slid his pants. She wet her hand with a long stroke of her tongue before grasping him firmly again. Slowly her fist pumped up and down, beads of white dripping around her grip.
Ramsay watched her movement, nearly mesmerized. Abruptly she stopped and before Ramsay could protest her hands were on his shoulders. She swung one leg over him to straddle him, grinding down on the hardness pressed against the damp panties underneath her skirt. | 799d9e1ae64f48c39ba09dbfada0d7a0 | ['fbbf20930abf407697e824af6aa1ef54'] | He saw her eyes slowly closed, thick lashes folding together, and he imminently stopped talking. Quickly he closed his own, awaiting a kiss. Their noses brushed and impatiently he leaned in to claim her mouth; she tasted sweet with the favor of cherry.
At his side his arms laid useless. It occurred to him after a moment that he should be touching her in some fashion. Quickly he moved to hold her ass, fingers tugging at the pleats of the skirt until his felt the lace of her panties and the bare skin beneath.
Sansa teased him, wiggling her hips gently against him. When she moved to kiss his cheek he tried to follow, blindly searching for her lips. She giggled and moved to his cheek, working her way to his ear. The tip if her tongue played with his earlobe, flicking gently before nibbling the lobe. A sensation ran down his spine as she nibbled.
His cock was stiff and ready. Finally, she reached between her legs, seizing his hardness. Roughly he tugged the moist fabric of her panties to one side. Ramsay groaned as she rubbed the tip against her wet folds. He wanted to shove himself inside her, but instead let her tease them both, sliding the head of his cock along the length of her wet pussy before bringing him to her entrance. Slowly her body sank down on him and together they shared satisfied moan. She kissed him as she took every last inch of him inside her pussy.
For a moment she sat still. Ramsay was eager for her to move, but he enjoyed the taste of her lips, and the feel of her cunt squeezing around him. Gradually she began to move. The kiss ended as she began to rise and fall in his lap at a steady pace.
His hands moved to her hips, gripping so tight he wondered if perhaps that delicate flesh would bruise. Sansa didn't seem to mind. She looked to be enjoying herself.
“How's that feel?” she whispered to him.
“Good,” he panted.
His disgusting mind was a convoluted mess of scenarios. Each one seemed perfect in its own way, but he couldn’t have them all. It was too difficult to focus on one and enjoy it. He fixated on the rise and fall of her body, her soft moans, but he still wanted to fantasize.
Hands grasped his shoulders shoving him back flatly on the bed. Gazing down the line of his body he could now watch as his length disappeared inside her. Sansa rode him faster now, her tits bouncing, even restrained by the bra and blouse. He thought of tearing the shirt open, but before he could her hand grabbed for his wrist, pushing his fingers to her aching clit. The moment he touched it she gasped. As his finger moved in a circular motion around the sensitive little nub her entire body withered.
"Do you want to watch me kill someone?" he muttered.
"Yes," she moaned. It nearly sounded like a plea. In that moment he knew she'd say yes to anything. She'd agree to anything, but the thought of her watching was so enticing. Ramsay wondered if there were any obscene fantasies filling his girlfriends perverted mind. There was no way she was so aroused over his lack of experience. She had enjoyed his story.
No. She probably hadn’t heard him. More than likely she’d assumed he’d said something dirty and sexy.
Gradually her little sounds of pleasure were getting louder. When her pace eased to a halt Ramsay vigorously raised his hips to hers. With her whole family downstairs, they needed to be quiet. Ramsay imagined Eddard Stark wouldn’t be thrilled about listening to his daughter getting fucked by the creepy Bolton boy. Instead of covering her mouth, his other hand clamped around her throat, quieting her groans. Tighter than he should have, but not as tight as he wanted to. Her throat would look beautiful covered in bruises, he thought, but he couldn’t leave any evidence.
He envisioned her in the park with him, making her watch. An ache spread through his fingers squeeze tighter. The fantasy was bringing him dangerously close to peak.
Lashes fluttered and her mouth spread wide as she came. He released the hold on her throat. The faint outline of his hand left on her skin satisfied him. She fell down on top of him, kissing him eagerly. He grabbed her ass and began thrusting deep into her tight pussy, fingers digging into the soft skin. He came, groaning into her puckered lips.
While he panted for air she kissed tenderly at his cheek. With one last kiss on his lips she rolled off of him.
They lay side by side, catching their breath.
“Would you like to go to the park with me sometime?” Ramsay blurted out. Rolling his head to the side he found her smiling.
She leaned over and kissed him on the lips. “How about tomorrow?” |
ef0f53ecc35b460da0b43f8633837f7e | ['fbe1ed4eae5e4907bd401abd6078494a'] | “So, hormone therapies of a sort were distributed. People used these therapies to suppress their instincts and the biological functions that came with them, such as the ability to carry children. After such widespread use over the course of many, many years, alphas and omegas practically ceased to exist. The suppressant had had a long term affect, and essentially I’d say these drugs ultimately led to pretty much everyone turning out to be betas nowadays.”
Yoongi found himself now turning away from the doctor’s eyes.
“I’m guessing betas are just like normal people?”
Yoongi assumed she nodded. “That they are. They don’t ever present, which is probably why everyone assumes that being male and female are the only biological options anymore.”
All of this was making too much sense. It was like earlier, Yoongi had been holding a single puzzle piece, but now he felt like he was at least able to make out the general shapes of the image. Granted, it was a blurry one, but at least Yoongi felt like he was getting somewhere.
He wasn’t done with asking questions yet, though. Yoongi had noticed the doctor’s shift to the historical side of this hierarchy, and he found it unusual that she hadn’t spoken of the medical aspect. She was a doctor, after all, and it was a little astounding to Yoongi that she’d barely brushed the subject.
He found himself harshly putting forth this suspicion only seconds later. “So, what? That’s it? I’m an omega, who can have kids apparently. What’s the catch? Is there a period or something I’m going to get now? There would have to be.”
The doctor blushed, of all things, at Yoongi’s question. It was the last way he expected her to react due to the professionalism required in her business. “There is a cycle that your system goes through to-prepare you for children, yes.”
Yoongi cringed at the sentence. “And this cycle’s a period.”
Again, another blush. “It’s, in my opinion at least, a lot worse. You’ll get a heat once every three months instead of a period.”
Yoongi couldn’t be sure, but once every three months sounded much better than once a month. Maybe being an omega wouldn’t change too much in his life, after all.
“So, what’s a heat?”
There was no blush this time. Yoongi felt a shift of mood in the room, and realised that the doctor had been speaking to him informally this entire time in an effort to calm him, most likely. Her newfound professionalism had Yoongi curling his toes anxiously.
“A heat is a process your body will go through to ready yourself for pregnancy. You’ll feel aroused, and at times feverish, but the main thing to note about a heat is that while you’re in it, your fertility levels increase exponentially. As a result, you may get cramps in your lower back and stomach, and your penis may become incredibly sensitive as a result of you being a male omega.”
It was a lot of information for Yoongi to process at once, but it didn’t stop there.
“As well as this, you’ll desire a partner to share sexual acts with over the course of a few days that a heat usually lasts for. For omegas, this partner would almost always be an alpha, as they produce a knot as part of their biology to block off any seed from leaving the omega after intercourse. It is possible to spend a heat alone, but it would be less painful to do so with a partner.”
Yoongi licked his suddenly dry lips. He hadn’t expected any of that information. At all. He was still getting used to he fact that he, a man, could get pregnant in the first place. Now there were heats?
“Is there any way I can, you know, not get a heat?”
The doctor looked at him like she’d already answered his question. Then, he realised, she had.
“The hormone therapy is probably still around if you’d like to suppress your heats. However, from a medical perspective, I would advise against it. Your ancestors have likely been using these drugs for generations, and if you ever wanted to have your own children one day then taking the suppressant in the first place would dramatically decrease your chances at conceiving. The decision is entirely up to you, however.”
Yoongi didn’t hesitate. “I’d like the drugs, please.”
The doctor nodded in understanding. “I’ll see to it that these drugs get distributed to you immediately, if possible. For now, I think your friends would probably like to be let back in.”
The doctor walked over to the entrance, but a final question dashed through Yoongi’s mind before she could leave.
“Can you at least tell me why I presented in the first place? Like, why my status didn’t remain hidden forever?”
The sad smile he was sent answered his question. “I’m sorry, but under your particular circumstances I cannot. All I can say, really, is that your presentation was triggered by something. It’s a fact that without a trigger, you would’ve remained blissfully ignorant to your second gender for the rest of your life.”
“Okay,” is all he responded with. His brain felt like it had been overloaded with information. “Thank you, you know, telling me about all of this Miss, ah- sorry, I don’t think I ever asked for your name.”
He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, hoping the doctor, despite her persistence in educating him, would leave him already.
“Miss Lee. And it was not a problem. I’ll get a prescription sorted for you as soon as possible.”
With that, she opened the door and left the room, leaving Yoongi to his own thoughts momentarily.
_Fuck_. | ffa1449627674edaa1c54336af00a370 | ['fbe1ed4eae5e4907bd401abd6078494a'] | It was good. The song had feeling now, an irrevocable emotion about it, and Yoongi didn’t want to admit it but he knew exactly how that emotion had filtered into its sound. It seemed that Yoongi had always possessed the potential to complete this song, but he’d been hit with a barrier in the process of writing it. He’d since overcome that barrier, though, and it didn’t really matter how he overcame it.
He knew exactly what allowed him to overcome this barrier, but that didn’t mean he was going to acknowledge it to himself. No, there was no way he could do that. Why fan the flames to an inferno if the option to run from it was there?
Yoongi saved his progress and downloaded the instrumental before he could think twice about his decision. He wanted to hear Hoseok’s opinion on the finished product. His advice had been a pivotal part of the project, and Yoongi owed it to him to share the final result of his efforts.
It took a few seconds for the download to complete, but those few seconds were enough to make Yoongi doubt his choice. The file popped up on his phone and his finger hovered over the share button for far too long. He was going to share it. There were no lyrics yet to accompany the melody, so the song itself wasn’t deeply introspective yet.
So why did Yoongi feel like he was baring a part of his soul by sharing this with anybody?
He tapped the share button regardless. He needed to get over himself. It was a song, and it might hold personal meaning to him, but it didn’t hold meaning to anyone else. It was just a tune to anyone else.
Yoongi repeatedly told himself this as he sent the untitled file to Hoseok.
He quickly typed out _Thanks_ _for_ _the_ _advice_ underneath, and crossed his fingers that the others had since finished going through the choreography at the dance studio. He didn’t want them to hear it if he could help it. He only wanted to share it with Seokjin, Jimin, Taehyung and Jeongguk once the lyrics had been written, and he already knew from the buzzing in his mind that he would need Namjoon’s assistance with the lyrics. Some songs were like that, Yoongi found. Some songs simply begged others to place their experiences in its tune, and Yoongi would be a fool to deny the urge he felt to share these lyrics with Namjoon.
The message came up as read seconds after Yoongi sent the file. He hoped nobody was peaking over the younger’s shoulder as he typed out a reply, but Yoongi had learnt long ago that those kinds of things were well and truly outside of his control. He could only hope for things at the end of the day, and even then Yoongi knew sometimes that wasn’t enough.
He only had to look at everything that had happened earlier that day to find evidence to support his claim.
A text popped up from Hoseok’s profile, and Yoongi bit his thumb as he read it over.
_This_ _sounds_ _great_ _hyung!!_
A breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding released, and Yoongi felt so much more at ease all of a sudden. Hoseok’s approval shouldn’t mean anything to him, but it did. He was another composer, after all, and his opinion on musical subjects was just as valid as Yoongi’s own. He didn’t take the praise lightly.
But then another message appeared underneath Hoseok’s previous one.
_What_ _happened_ _to_ _make_ _it_ _sound_ _so_ _good? What_ _changed_ _from_ _earlier??_
Static echoed through the room as Yoongi stared at the screen. He knew Hoseok was probably only asking these questions because he was genuinely curious, but a part of him wondered if Hoseok already knew the answer. Yoongi certainly knew the answer, but admitting it to himself was an entirely different matter.
He’d been avoiding these thoughts for as long as he could, but Hoseok, however subtle he was being about it, was not about to let him continue doing that. He was making him confront another fact it seemed, and Yoongi could no longer tell if that was a good or bad thing.
Jeongguk’s stare wouldn’t leave his goddamn mind, but a new memory snuck up on him the longer his eyes laid on the unanswered text.
The ghost of a gentle hand clutched at his back, and an even gentler gaze laid upon him. Music lulled in the background alongside other’s laughter, but he was trapped in his own little world. The stare Yoongi had received then was nothing like the stare he’d experienced later that day, but that made it all the more memorable. All the more meaningful.
Yoongi’s fingers hovered over the keys. Could he really write down his honest answer? It had been proved to Yoongi over and over again that he couldn’t trust others with his truths, but this was more than just a truth to Yoongi. This was a confession. This was a means of owning his own truth, and accepting it by first sharing it with others. It was the only solution Yoongi could come up with to move on from this realisation that shouldn’t mean anything to anybody but still meant all too much to him.
The words came naturally to Yoongi then. All he had to do was remember Jeongguk’s eyes on him.
He hesitated for only a moment when he saw his thoughts reflected back at him. He needed to get this off his chest. He needed to admit this to himself so he could move on from it. He needed to stop denying everything.
Yoongi scrunched his eyes up as he clicked ‘send’, but he did not regret his decision. He’d needed to admit it to himself eventually, so for now he could only be thankful that another obstacle had been navigated in his endeavour to get back to being his regular self. |
70e5a9f9f66344b2bf409d120cb70fc5 | ['fbe272cab3d84d5f9c8cdd043009d705'] | "This is a request I make as your Lord." He said. "Very well." Raizel said as he bowed, and walked out. Frankenstien followed his master out the door of the throne room. "This is going to be fun. Make sure your children come, and don't forget to dress up in costumes. They sell them, and you can make them. Everyone is required to go, dress up, and have fun. Halloween is in two days." Lord said cheerfully.
Halloween Day
Frankenstien prepared for the party. He cooked all the food, made candy, bought some too, made deserts, made his masters costume, and got everything on the Lord's list to do.
Guest started to arrive at six. Gechutel and his grandson Regis arrived. Not long after all the other guests arrived. They were all in costumes.
Gechutel dressed up as a pirate, Regis as a ninja, Rayga dressed as a prince, Rajak as superman, Rael as flash, Ludis as green lantern, Kei a Viking, Karis as cupid, Krasis as a soldier, Seira as a nurse, Rosaria as a steam punk girl, Lascrea as a Jasmine the Disney princess, Frankenstien as a firefighter, Rai as Aladen, Lord as a cowboy, Takio a mummy, M-21 as a vampire, and Tao as Frankenstien. Frankenstien was mad at Tao for dressing up as him and even going as far as to make a fake (toy) dark spear.
When everyone saw Tao's outfit, some started to sweat, while some were trying to hold back laughter. The laughter pissed Frankenstien off even more. His dark aura got bigger and darker around him. "Frankenstien." Raizel said. When he said that Frankenstien calmed down, and was going to talk to Tao later.
The party was fun. Everyone was enjoying themselves. Since it was a halloween party, the Lord put on some music and told everyone to hit the dance floor. Pop music was playing and everyone started to dance and have fun.
Frankenstien was happy that his master was having fun. He walked to the punch bowl and poored himself a cup. "Thank you for completing the list, Frankenstien. Raizel's outfit is perfect, I wanted him and Lascrea to have a pairing costume."Lord said. "No problem. Master seems to be enjoying the party." Frankenstien replied.
Lord walked over to change the music into one you slow dance with someone. "Everyone grab a partner!" He yelled. Raizel danced with Lascrea, as Karis danced with Rosaria. Rael was dancing with Seira.
While the family leaders danced with there husbands and wives, throughout the night.
4. The Trio's Day Off
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> If you have a request please comment below and I will try to write them.
Frankenstein given the trio a day off. He, his master and the nobles went to school.
Takeo and M-21 woke up from Tao singing. Going in and out of there rooms, making them get up. The two walked to the kitchen, with a yawn. They poured coffee in their coffee cup, and walked to the living room.
Tao was playing music out loud, M-21 fileing his nails, and Takeo brushing his hair. If Frankenstein was there he would have introduced them to dark spear for playing music out loud when others don't want to hear it, getting nail dust on the furniture, and Takeo's loose hair on the floor.
They were all relaxing, when Tao had an Idea. He went in the kitchen and got a bottle of whiskey, and 3 cups. "Hey guys lets have some fun! I heard that if you drink this you let lose and have fun." Tao explained, while pouring the drinks. They took a sip and coughed.
Few hours later.
Almost all the whiskey was gone. They were giggling, still drinking. Tao turned on his music and started to dance. He grabbed M-21 and Takio to dance with them.
*Click* The door opened and in came Frankenstein, Rai, Seira, Regis, and the kids. They heard music and laughter from the living room. In the living room, they saw the three dancing, and giggling, with drinks in there hands.
Frankenstein looked at the table to see a huge whiskey bottle. They were drunk. He walked over to Tao's phone and turned off the music. "Kids, why don't y'all go home now." He said. The kids were laughing and nodded.
Seira, Regis, and the kids, walked out the door. Frankenstien then turn to the three. "Now can one of you explain what happened?" He asked in a angry tone.
The three giggled and looked at him. "Hehe T-tao g-gave u-us s-something g-good." Takeo answered in a slurred voice. Frankenstein was mad and continued questioning them. "Where did you get that?" "I-I b-bought i-it." Tao responded also with a slurred voice.
"Sigh. How much have you guys had to drink?" "N-not a-a lot. J-just t-this b-bottle." Tao replied. M-21 didn't answer any questions, but was sitting on the floor giggling. Frankenstein took there cups and bottle of whiskey, and poured it down the sink.
"You three are not getting another day off." He said pissed that this happened. He walked back in the living room, to see them sitting together, whispering and giggling. "What's so funny?" He asked them as his dark aura was leaking out.
They were unfazed by it, and continued to giggle. "Y-you're l-like o-our m-mom. Hehe." M-21 said, also with a slurred voice. That pissed Frankenstein off. He knew they were drunk and they didn't know what they were doing or saying.
Before he could hurt them he went in the kitchen and fixed them some coffee to sober them up.
Back in the living room. | e0497fbbb03b4f78bc5ce1d22d76b64b | ['fbe272cab3d84d5f9c8cdd043009d705'] | **Notes for the Chapter:**
> If you have a request please comment below and I will try to make it.
2. Helping Frankenstein.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Warning: This chapter contains NSFW.
Frankenstein was having a horrible day. In his office, he had a lot of paperwork. He had stacks all on the desk as well as around it. If it wasn't bad enough, that he had so much paperwork to do, he had a few kids sent to his office. After dealing with those bad kids, he sighed.
Raizel was in his classroom, when he felt his bonded's stress through there bond. He thought of some ways to calm him down. 'Mabe I could run my fingers through his hair, give him a kiss and tell him everything's going to be alright, and cuddle with him. That usually worked.' Rai thought as he faintly smiled.
"Ssst. Rai's smiling." Shinwu whispered to Ikhan. Ikhan stoped his frantic typing to look at him, then Rai. Rai was indeed smiling. "Mabe, he's happy." Ikhan replied, not wanting to disturb him.
When the bell rang, indicating school was over, the kids were all at Rai's desk. "Ready to go to PC Bang?" Shinwu asked. Everyone nodded and replied yeah, but Rai shook his head no. "What! Why?!" Shinwu asked before getting hit by Ikhan. The girl's giggled, as Regis sighed.
"I have... something I need to do." Rai replied as he stood up and walked towards the door. "Oh ok. Have fun!" Yuna yelled as he left.
"That's odd." Sui said once he was gone. They all nodded there heads in agreement. "Well mabe he has something exciting for today. He was smiling for a long time in class." Shinwu replied. "I agree." Ikhan nodded.
Rai was making his way to Frankenstein's office, smiling a peaceful smile. When he made it, he opened the door to see his bonded leaning back in his chair, his glasses off, and rubbing his eyes. He heard a small "click" as the door locked. He looked up to see his Master walking in.
He stood up and bowled. "Master, Is there something you need?" He asked. Standing back up straight, he looked at his Master. His crimson eyes looked at his softly, his eyes looking into his own midnight blue eyes. "Frankenstein, come here." Rai said as he sat down, on the white couch.
Frankenstein complied, sitting next to his Master. "Ma..." He was interrupted by a hand playing with his hair. "Shh. Everything is going to be ok. Relax." He did as he was told, leaning towards the touch.
Rai smiled, leaning down to give him a small peck on the lips. Pulling away, he looked at the blond. Frankenstein whined when his master pulled away. Rai smiled and kissed him again, a little harder. Frankenstein opened his mouth and Rai slipped his tongue in, mapping his mouth, before feeling Frankenstein's tongue moving with his.
He pull Rai closser, kissing him hungry, devouring him with need, as he felt his pants began to tighten. 'Master!' Frankenstein moaned through the bond. Rai pulled back, to looked at his beautiful Frankenstein.
"Master..." Frankenstein moaned, his face tented a faint pink. Rai then felt his own arousal growing hard. He pulled Frankenstein into his lap as he started to strip him of his shirt. Once his shirt was on the floor, Rai licked and nibbled a trail from his lips down to his neck. He sucked on his neck, then bitting down, earning a low moan.
His hand trailed down the blond's chest, down his stomach, then to his belt. He undid his belt as Frankenstein moved up to help his master, get them off. He gasped as he felt the cold air on his hard manhood.
Rai then moved his lips to his left nipple and sucked lightly, as he rubbed and twisted his right nipple. He continued as Frankenstein began to moan louder.
He begain to grind against his Master seeking friction, panting. Rai released his nipples letting out a pleased moan. Looking up at him, his face was red, eyes closed, mouth open, and his blond hair moving with him. "F-frankenstein... u-undress me." Frankenstein quickly ripped off his masters cravet, blazer, and shirt, throwing it on the floor.
Rai pushed on Frankenstein, until he was on his back, between his legs. Shredding his pants, his hard cock was free. He put his fingers in Frankenstien's mouth, for him to suck. He sucked on them, running his tongue all around them.
When Rai thought they were wet enough, he slid them out of his mouth. Frankenstein was whimpering as he pulled them out.
He leaned forward and kissed Frankenstein, as he pushed one finger in. Frankenstein moaned into the kiss, wanting more.
Rai deepened the kiss as he added a second finger in, making a Scissoring motion. Frankenstein plulled back a little. "M-master... please." Frankenstein begged painting.
Rai pulled his fingers out, looking at him. He positioned his manhood to Frankenstein's entrance. Pushing in he groaned as Frankenstein moaned, "Master!" Once all the way in, he put his hands on Frankenstein's hips, only to pull almost all the way out, before slaming back in, creating a fast pace.
Frankenstein was moaning louder as Rai was thrusting faster, hitting his prostate with each thrust. The two were moving with and against each other in ecstasy. "A-ah! M-master..... Please!" Frankenstein yelled as he was getting closer to completion.
Rai was now thrusting inhumanely into him, moaning lounder. He reached down, stroking Frankenstein. That pushed him over the edge. Frankenstein came, clenching down as his orgasm took over yelling, "Master!" "Ah!" Rai moaned, loudly as he came, deep down in Frankenstein.
He pulled out, laying on top of Frankenstein, panting. "Frankenstein... I... love you." Rai said breathlessly. Frankenstein smiled, wrapping his arms around him, "I love you to master."
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Lol this was my first time writing smut.
3. Helping Frankenstein Part: 2 |
37ad0d2c40d94e6eb8479ba52fcbfee2 | ['fc037ffb7b82419f905f563c90865fbb'] |
of starving faithful
**Author's Note:**
> this all began with a tumblr prompt and now i'm full steam ahead S.S. Minty!!
"Okay, I only have a limited window before Frankendoc realizes I’ve left Jasper alone, so this better be good."
Miller looks up at Monty with a causal roll of his eyes before he gestures a wiring panel hidden inside of one of the floor tiles, “I think I figured out a way to re-circuit the system and get us out of here.”
Monty’s mouth opens and closes a few times before shuts it with an audible click. Crouching down next to Miller, he shoves Miller's hands away and does a quick overview of what they’re working with. “Alright, I’m listening.”
Miller lays out his plans as quickly as possible while Lionel and Keenan keep an eye out for any roaming guards. By the time he’s done, Monty’s eyes are shining with a foreign sense of hope. “So, do you think it’ll work?”
"I think you’ve been holding out on us, Nathan." Monty claps at Miller’s shoulder with a wide smile, one that Miller tentatively returns. There’s a shuffle of footsteps that has them breaking apart, a flush rising up the back of Monty’s neck despite the innocence of the situation while Miller’s head cants to the side, tracking the footsteps as they make their way down the corridor.
"It’s fine," Miller reassures him when he notices Monty’s fingers tap out a nervous rhythm against his pant leg, "They’re heading towards the mess hall."
A stilted silence settles between them for a moment before Monty speaks, his throat tight, tone ladened with anxiety and fear, “Do you think this will work? Do you think this will get us out of here?” _Do you think this will bring us back to our people?_ is the answer he really wants to ask, and by the look on Miller’s face, it’s one he doesn’t have to.
“It’s all I can think of,” rubbing at the back of his neck, Miller casts his eyes upward, looking for a sun that isn’t there. “It’s our only chance.”
Monty nods, throat bobbing as he forces himself to swallow the bitter taste of doubt that’s burning acidly in his throat and meets Miller’s gaze dead-on. “Do you think she’s okay?”
“Of course she is,” his response is immediate and something passes across Monty’s face that looks akin to relief. “We are talking about Clarke, after all.”
Letting out a shuddered breath of relief through clenched teeth, Monty shoves his hands into his pockets and nods once again. “Do you think—”
“Yes,” there’s something in Miller’s gaze then, a perception of knowing that Monty can’t quite understand, but it’s steadfast and never wavers, so Monty lets himself believe that Miller is right, that Bellamy is alive and safe. That they’ll see both him and Clarke again.
“Knowing both Clarke and Bellamy, they’ve already found one another and are bickering as they make their way here to come get us,” Miller says through a stilted laugh, as if he had somehow read Monty’s thoughts.
Monty chuckles at that and something loosens in his chest, allowing a rogue bud of hope to blossom behind the nervous rattlings of his ribs. “I’d expect nothing less of them.”
“ _Miller!_ ” Keenan’s warning comes a bit too late as she lets out a quiet yelp of surprise when a guard grabs her by the arm, immediately questioning her reasoning for being outside the area allotted for the remaining hundred.
Both Monty and Miller move at the same time, feet kicking at the floorboard until it’s slotted back in place just as a guard rounds the corner, making his way down the dimly lit hallway.
Monty’s brain jolts, it’s wiring kicking into overdrive as solutions to their problems filter through his vision, flying at a rapid pace. Acting on impulse, he grabs Miller’s arm, pulling him until they’re pressed flush together and then suddenly his lips are on Miller’s and the guard’s initial protest dies into a weak sound of surprise.
He barely has time to gage the look on Miller’s face before he kisses him— it’s something short of surprise followed by a mix of alarm and knowing— but if Miller is taken aback by the kiss, he doesn’t show it.
Instead, his hands make their way around Monty’s back, palms resting flatly against the base of Monty’s spine where his nails dig roughly into his thin layered shirt.
Monty’s brain goes from severe overdrive to a dead sense of calm in less than ten-seconds. One moment, he’s firing with all cylinders at the ready, and the next, it’s a quiet ebb and flow of calm throughout his veins as Miller’s tongue traces its way across the chapped contours of Monty’s bottom lip.
Neither of them notice the sound of the guard’s annoyed hiss as he turns back around, footsteps dying away— only to be replaced quickly by a pair of hurried ones.
“Dude, come on,” Lionel lets out a loud, exasperated noise in Miller’s general direction, ignoring the flash of the bird that he gets in response. “We have to _go_.”
“Nathan,” its Harper’s voice that fills the hallway causing the two to break apart. Her expression is flat and unamused, but the soft glint in her eyes gives away her silent mirth, “if we want this to work, we have to get ready. We don’t have much time.”
Monty clears his throat awkwardly, stepping away from Miller’s side with a shy upturn of his lips. “Yeah, I have to get back. Jasper is,” he doesn’t know how to say: ‘high on painkillers’ without saying, well, _‘high on painkillers’_ so instead he gives them a vague hand gesture that seems to do the trick because everyone simultaneously rolls their eyes in response. “So…yeah, there’s that.” | 823affa783c64e30b05f2d82ca409983 | ['fc037ffb7b82419f905f563c90865fbb'] | As if Kali can sense Alison's need, she adds another finger, pushing Allison just that little bit more until the scream that had been building is working it's way up Allison's throat, clawing it's way out even though her lips are ragged from her own teeth and she knows— oh, _does she know_ — that she should be quiet. Kali's free hand draws symbols in the dip between Allison's breasts, the tips of her nails provoking gooseflesh across her breasts and down towards her abdomen. Kali lifts her fingers for a moment to trace the path of gooseflesh, darting along the jazzed line of Allison's appendix scar, before her mouth dips so that her tongue can pick up where her fingers left off, pushing Allison farther up on the bed, giving her access to a new angle.
Dragging her teeth slowly across Allison's already oversensitive skin, red marks appear in their wake, and Allison can barely keep her head above water, her thoughts drowning out as Kali bites gently down on Allison's breast and pushes a low, choked yell from Allison's throat.
Pulling her fingers out for a moment, Allison barely gets a chance to moan at the loss of contact before Kali thrusts them back in, harder this time, and Allison's spine arches off the bed, bowing beautifully upwards into Kali's embrace. It doesn't take long, with Kali's thumb gently brushing across Allison's clit and her fingers working at a newer, faster rhythm than before, before Allison's head is thunking back against the bed, mouth open in silent pleasure, waves crashing down all around her as she rides the feeling up as high as she can go.
It's a tidal wave, a massive crash that hits her body in full force and drowns her until she's gasping for air, chest heaving, her throat rubbed raw from the screams that had been drowned out.
"Was it good for you?" the light humor in Kali's voice has Allison peeking an eye open, licking her lips to rid them of the dry, chapped feeling that had formed.
Utilizing what little strength she has left, Allison presses a soft kiss to Kali's lips, "Better, I bet." Curling into Kali's warmth, she presses her palm gently against Kali's steadily beating heart and lets herself revel in the fact that this actually happened— that it was still happening.
"Penny for your thoughts?"
"I think they're worth a bit more than that," Allison can feel the energy building up inside of her, the strength slowly returns to her legs, building back up in the contours of her spine, giving her just enough push to slide down Kali's body with a clever grin. "Actually, how about, instead of telling you, I'll just show you?"
Burying her fingers in the soft curls of Allison's hair, Kali arches slightly off the mattress, "I think— I think that's a good idea."
Allison uses her advantage to move her mouth over Kali's flat stomach, fingers ghosting across her sides, pushing down the waistband of her pants so that she can mouth at the marks it left. Moaning against Kali's stomach, she pushes the scrubs down farther, waiting until Kali has kicked them off, landing somewhere over near one of the chairs, before she presses her fingers against the fabric of Kali's thong, rubbing it over her clit.
"Still think it's a good idea?"
Kali swallows desperately, her throat dry, unable to make sound and she exhales tightly through her teeth when Allison hooks the thin fabric of Kali's thong around her fingers and tugs it down, her teeth trailing it's movements down her thighs. Kali lifts her hips, letting it fall to the ground and digs her fingers into the pale curve of Allison's shoulderblade.
Allison's laugh is sinful, amped up from adrenalin, her own climax and the madness of power that she holds in her hands as she ghosts a breath along Kali's clit before she sweeps her tongue out across the sensitive area. She takes a moment to pull back, to stare at Kali with eyes that tell Kali all she needs to know (that this is what Allison wants, what she has always wanted, to be buried between Kali's thighs as if it's her only salvation) before she thrusts her tongue back into Kali's sex.
"More," Kali begs softly, fingers falling to her sides, gripping at the ironically white hospital bedsheets, spreading her legs wider for Allison.
“More?” Allison doesn't stop, only adds two fingers into Kali's opening, moving them at a pace Kali couldn't even think about keeping up with. She adds another finger just as her other hand ghosts down across the curve of her side, teasing at her ass, pushing her towards her breaking point with just a few simple ministrations.
Kali swears into the pillow, biting down on it and lifting up onto her toes as Allison adds another finger and uses her tongue to entice another moan out of her. “Yes,” she nods, her ponytail is wet and clings to her skin, "yes.”
Allison swirls her tongue, teeth gently scraping along Kali's clit, before she adds another finger in slowly, pulling the rest out just to hear Kali's muffled scream break through the fabric of the pillow— music to Allison's ears. They don't have the supplies for Allison to add a finger into Kali's ass, to work her the way Kali enjoys best, but she settles for nipping at Kali's folds and sucking down, tongue darting in and out, joining her fingers until she can feel Kali's body bow and snap beautifully in one fluid movement.
Kali stills, her body quivering below Allison's as her orgasm rushes through her, engulfing her into the abyss. Her sight is nothing more than colored spots, her ears are ringing, mouth open and dry and Allison takes advantage of this by grabbing Kali at the nape of her neck and kissing her, tongue thrusting hard into her mouth. |
73226b58f4264aaaa63aa07100d9344b | ['fc05a2aab68d450da130a89994fb8348'] |
Into the Black
**Author's Note:**
> Hey all you beautiful people!
>
> This is my first fan fiction that I've ever posted, and I'm very nervous about it tbh. English is not my first language, so there might be some grammatical errors here and there, but I hope it is enjoyable anyways! I also might be using both British English and American Enligh in here, I can't really tell the difference in literature so I just use whatever word that comes to mind. I hope that there will be too many errors...
>
> Also, I didn't know exactly how to make additional tags, or how to write a good summary, but I'm happy that you actually clicked this far! I rated it as Mature just to be safe. I'm sixteen myself, but again, I rather be on the safe side as I don't really know the exact ratings of this yet.
>
> The lyrics in this story actually comes from the scene in the series where this story picks up. The song is called Into The Black and is originally made by Chromatics. I played it on repeat as I wrote this story (which has been for over five hours total; yes, I do go through my stories very carefully before I post them). Please feel free to do the same as you read it. ;)
>
> (I tried to make the situaiton as correct as possible in comparison to the series. I swear I watched the scenes of Alex in the pool house at least like twenty times. If I made som mayor mistakes anyways, please forgive me? I did my best)
>
> Fun fact, I actually don't swear in real life, but I like doing it in fiction. Sorry, now I will let you guys read the story, if you haven't gotten bored of me yet.
>
> Again, please leave a comment and let me know what you think. It would to wonders to my anxious thoughts! Love you all! <3
>
> WARNING: If you feel as if you can get triggered by reading this story, please do not continue on reading. Hurting people is the last thing I want, so please don't read if you think that this might sadden you! <3
_My my, hey hey_
_Rock'n roll is here to stay_
_It's better to burn out than to fade away_
_My my, hey hey!_
It is getting disturbingly hard to breathe inside the crowed pool house, and the noise of everyone in there sends shivers down Alex's spine. His hands are sweaty around the controller as he plays through the game next to Montgomery, who keeps throwing teasing comments at him on how they are losing the game because of Alex. In return Alex shoots back a "fuck you" without so much as a second thought, but there's no real heat behind the words. He just feels tired.
His chest feels tight, and his stomach protests painfully in jabbing stabs. He wants to hunch over, protect himself from the waves of pain even though he also knows that it is not going to help. It isn't all that bad, but it is still a consistent ache that won't go away no matter how many pills he downs.
The other guys are loud and clingy, and Alex finds it more than a little hard to concentrate in the busy environment. Zach's leg is somewhere close behind his head as he sits on the backrest of the soft sofa. Alex wants to move away, but he can't bring himself to. The isn't really any other place for him to go either, beacause he certainly doesn't want to move closer to Montgomery. He feels trapped.
Justin and Bryce are shouting something behind their backs, playfully fighting each other, but Alex tries his best to shut them out. Soon Justin is pushed onto the sofa though, so that he nearly lands on Montgomery, who tries to shift away but laughs as if it doesn't really bother him in the slightest. The sofa dips as Montgomery helps Justin back up again, and Alex wants to tell them all to calm the fuck down because he really isn't in the right mood for this, but he can't seem to find his own voice.
He feels like they are all suffocating him.
He wants to get out, he needs to get out; so he does. He gives up on even trying to take the game seriously, and as soon as it is over, and Montgomery shoves him lightly on the shoulder while commenting on how the game ended, he knows that he has had enough. In one rapid movement he puts the controller away rather forcefully and steps up to his feet, spitting out some witty, half hearted comeback as Zach makes a joke about his shooting skills.
He can hear them make some snarky comment about him leaving as he gets closer to the door, but he doesn't bother answering and he doesn't care. Alex just really needs some air, and he knows he won't be able to get it within these crowded walls. The other guys are already beating him to it, sucking all of the air out of the room so that Alex gets none. He is weaker than them, he knows that. He stands no chance against them, and they don't fucking care. The only reason he is here right now is because Justin wants to keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn't go to the police. They know that he is unstable, but they don't even bother asking him if there's something wrong or if there's something they can do for him; not that he would give them an honest answer or whatever. He doesn't really want them to ask either, he doesn't want to be their friend, not anymore. | 3924839ccf3a456cb365ddef956a089a | ['fc05a2aab68d450da130a89994fb8348'] | There is a pause in which Isak looks away again, trying to process what Even is telling him. His mind feels heavy now that some of the stress has bled out of his shoulders and the caffeine is no longer working it’s way through his system. He can’t even remember how many hours of sleep he got this night, but can’t have been more than three at most. “Do you understand what I’m saying Isak?”
Silence follows again for a second or two, before Even adds in a pleading voice:
“ _Please_.”
That does it. Something snaps in Isak’s chest and his defences runs thin. He can feel his face crumble before he is able to mask it up, and his body sack together as his knees grows steadily weaker. His hands begins to tremble and he turns his head to side, swallowing thickly.
He then takes a shaky breath to steady himself, and glances at the papers on the table from behind Even’s shoulder. They are scattered all over the place, and Isak can’t help but imagine how many hours he has spent in that chair, simply moving the pages around manically, not really taking anything in but more out of principe.
He sighs, helplessly, and finally allows himself to sink blindly into Even’s arms. His boyfriend instantly wraps his arms around him, as if this was what he was waiting for the entire time, and he holds him, rubbing soothing circles on his back to ease some of the tension out of his muscles.
They stay in that position for some time longer, Even not doing anything to break their embrace. He simply holds him, never once halting his hand on Isak’s back. The smaller boy buries his nose into his neck and breathes him in, closing his eyes to try and memorise this moment for just what it is. It’s beautiful. Despite everything, it’s beautiful. So beautiful.
Even smells sweetly from the perfume Isak bought him for Christmas. He wears the same T-shirt picturing Jesus that he wore when they kissed that time, so long ago. It is all too much all of a sudden.
Tears are forming in Isak’s eyes, and he feels almost embarrassed for it. He is just stressed out, he shouldn’t be crying on Even’s shoulder for it. Still, his boyfriend simply holds him, and Isak can’t help a small sniffle from breaking out from in between a couple of breaths.
Even buries his head in Isak’s neck and readjusts his grip so he can crush Isak hard flat against his chest. It feels like he is trying to hold Isak together, and it makes more tears spill from Isak’s eyes.
He doesn’t deserve a boyfriend like Even.
The next couple of minutes Even simply holds Isak tight against him, arms wrapped securely around his back. They say nothing, and Isak works his mouth to try and swallow past the wet lump in his throat. He blinks back the tears that are threatening to fall, and he is so incredulously happy that Even doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t need to talk right now, what he needs right now is this.
He needs Even to hold him. He needs Even to comfort his without prompting him to talk. He needs time to process this himself. Even’s arms around him is all he needs right now, making him feel worthy and calm and relaxed. It makes him feel like everything will be alright.
Isak sighs, and takes a reluctant step back. Even doesn’t move. He simply lets Isak take the lead, and then places one hand on Isak’s arm, rubbing calming lines along his skin, and the other on his neck. His eyes searches Isak’s as the smaller man lets his head fall down, quickly wiping at the tears on his cheeks even though he knows Even has already seen them.
When Isak looks up, Even meets his gaze and he smiles. It’s small and sad but genuine, his eyes speaks of hurt, probably over the fact that Isak hasn’t said anything yet, but he doesn’t force Isak into speaking, and the younger blonde doesn’t have to force the wavering smile that instantly lights up his features as he sucks in a stabilising breath.
“Can we get some Indian takeout?” He asks sweetly, tipping his head to the side and leaning forward with his hands on Even’s chest, embarrassment over his own stupidity slowly making his cheeks turn the smallest hint of red, but Even brightens up like the sun. He leans in to kiss him, passionately and full of conviction, before speaking, only a couple of centimetres away from Isak’s lips.
“Whatever you want Isak. Whatever you want.”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Please leave a comment and let me know what you think! <3
>
> Love, Julia.
3. The Insomnia
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hello again! I'm here with another chapter of this story, and I really hope you'll all enjoy. I'm once again sorry that it took some time. I'm struggling with some personal issues, but I'm doing better now and I'm working on it, and really I hope I'll be able to continue updating more regularly, because I love this platform and everything that comes with it.
>
> Writing truly means a lot to me, and I love all of the kind words and support you guys leave on my stories! So thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I have read the comments on the last chapter multiple times over the last months, and they always makes me smile. It truly means the world to me, and I'm so thankful that you guys take your time to comment.
>
> I really hope you'll be leaving comments and love on this chapter as well!! <33
>
> Please enjoy, and have an amazing day! :) <3
"Isak babe," Even whispers through the dark, voice heavy and slow with sleep. "Why aren't you sleeping?" |
8e89be5c127e44ff8a62804f2a0081ae | ['fc0a03b2377f4726b5305c4d91dac26b'] | “What’s going on?” Hank, who was managing the TVs backstage, asked.
“Dan’s having a panic attack,” Cat said. “He needs to lie down.”
Hank nodded and led the girls through the backstage area and into the youtuber hangout room, which was unfortunately rather occupied at the moment.
Having no other choice, Louise and Cat put Dan down onto the nearest couch. The 24 year old’s breathing only got worse in that moment, and he started making choking sounds.
“I’m going to call the onsite paramedics,” Hank said. “Can you two help him while I’m gone?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Cat promised. Hank ran off to find a phone.
“What do we do?!” Louise asked, terrified by Dan’s condition. The 10 or so other youtubers in the room took notice of the scene and came closer.
“Where’s Phil?” Cat asked the small crowd.
“He’s still on the other panel,” Jim said.
“Jim, go get him. Tell him what’s going on, hurry!” Louise exclaimed. Jim nodded and quickly left the room.
Cat kneeled beside Dan.
“Phil is on the way, Dan, you’re going to be okay,” She said calmly. Dan didn’t seem to hear her. His eyes were forced shut, and tears were steadily rolling down his face.
“Can you guys back up a bit?” Louise yelled angrily at the crowd of youtubers who were still surrounding them. They quickly obliged.
A few minutes passed, though they felt like hours to everyone in the colorfully lit room. Finally, the doors were thrown open. Jim ran inside, trailed closely by a startled Phil.
“Oh thank goodness,” Louise breathed, moving away from Dan so that Phil could kneel beside the couch.
“Dan,” Phil whispered quietly. “Dan, it’s me.”
Dan reached out a hand and grabbed onto Phil’s arm. Phil took Dan’s hand in his own and traced a circular pattern repeatedly.
“Dan, you’re backstage right now. You’re in the hangout room, with the cool lights. Remember? Just yesterday you told me how cool it was,” Phil talked in a calm, quiet voice. Dan’s breathing evened out, much to everyone’s relief.
Phil then leaned in closer to Dan and started muttering inaudible things into his ear. Louise and Cat glanced at each other.
Dan stopped shaking, and he took deep breaths. Phil placed Dan’s hand back onto the couch and took a seat by Dan’s head. Phil helped Dan, with his eyes still closed, sit up. Tears were still falling from Dan’s eyes, and Phil pulled Dan back so that his legs were draped over Phil’s lap. Phil wrapped his arms around Dan’s torso, and Dan buried his face into Phil’s neck.
The embrace reminded Louise of how she would comfort Darcy after the little girl suffered from a nightmare. It had a similar effect too, as Dan seemed to calm down just as Darcy often did in her mother’s familiar and warm grasp.
Louise and Cat, knowing that Phil had the situation under control, decided to go back to the panel. They would say that Dan wasn’t feeling great, but he was resting and would hopefully be able to make it to a meet up in a few hours.
When the panel ended, the girls dashed back to the hangout room to find that Phil was sitting on the couch on his phone, Dan’s head resting in his lap. Dan’s eyes were closed, though this time peacefully, in a deep sleep.
“Is he alright?” Louise asked Phil. The british man looked up from his phone and smiled at Louise.
“He’ll be fine,” Phil assured the two of them. “He’s had a few of these before, this one wasn’t the worst.”
“How did you get him to calm down?” Cat asked.
Phil shrugged. “I’m honestly not entirely sure. I just talk to him usually, remind him of where he is, that he’s safe. If that doesn’t work completely then I hold him like his mother used to when he got panic attacks as a kid. I know it’s silly, but it works.”
“It’s not silly at all,” Cat responded. “Dan’s lucky to have you as a best friend.”
Phil didn’t respond. Instead, he smiled slightly and ran a hand through Dan’s hair. Louise and Cat took this moment to bow out quickly, hurrying through the doors towards their meetups. Neither one spoke, but they were both thinking the same thing.
Just how lucky Dan and Phil were to have found each other.
**Author's Note:**
> Thanks for reading this one-shot! I wrote it pretty quickly but I'm happy with it. Also, I apologize if the panic attack isn't described correctly. I've had the luck of never experiencing one myself so I had to do some research. | ebfe3b3905e146c6bbe88d7d5e093349 | ['fc0a03b2377f4726b5305c4d91dac26b'] | Gwen tuned in her amplified listening and heard the sound of water being disturbed. “Uh, yeah I’m fine. I think I left something back at the campfire, so I’ll go grab it and meet you at our cabin in a few minutes, yeah?”
Trent shrugged. “Okay, see you in a few.”
Gwen chuckled nervously, waiting for Trent to turn his back before she took off in an all-out sprint towards the lake. Gwen gasped when she saw that Cody was not still at the end of the dock, waiting for the boat as he should have been. Her eyes scanned the water carefully, finally resting on a few surfacing bubbles. Gwen pushed herself into the air, gliding over the water until she hovered directly over the bubbles. A glint of silver metal was all the confirmation she needed.
Gwen pushed herself higher up into the air, preparing herself for the dive she was about to force herself to do. With a nervous deep breath, she inverted herself and tucked her wings in, extending her hands out to break the surface of the icy water. Gwen forced her eyes open, and saw Cody slowly sinking towards the bottom of the lake.
“Cody!” She tried to yell out, though the water muffled her voice so it was just a dim scream.
“ _Duncan!”_ She yelled through the link. The punk teen responded in rapidfire questions, but Gwen ignored him and focused on swimming towards her sinking brother.
Gwen grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and desperately tried to push herself up with her legs. After a few futile attempts, Gwen extended her wings out, and with the added push they gave her, Gwen managed to start moving her and Cody up towards the surface of the water. After twenty seconds of struggling, Gwen decided to ditch the wheelchair altogether, instead gathering Cody in her arms and swimming as fast as she could to the surface.
She rose out of the water with a gasp, air filling her seriously deprived lungs. She looked around rapidly, calling out to Duncan from their Link. Gwen knew that flying was impossible, with her wings being absolutely soaked and her entire body aching already from the strain of rescuing Cody.
Thankfully, Duncan flew in only a few seconds later, not even asking questions as he grabbed Cody from her arms and flew him safely to the mainland. Gwen forced herself to swim forward, slowly inching back to the shore. When she finally got back, Duncan was ripping the bandages off of Cody. He began pumping his chest, attempting to force out the water.
“You’d better not make me do mouth to mouth on you, squirt,” Duncan warned the still unconscious boy. Gwen ran over to them as fast as she could, throwing herself down by her brother’s side.
“Cody!” She exclaimed, cupping his face in her hands. “Oh my god, he’s not breathing, is he?!”
“Okay Gwen, just calm down,” Duncan ordered. “You freaking out isn’t going to help anything.”
“Then **do something** ,” Gwen yelled back. “Don’t just stand there berating me, go!”
Duncan leapt back into action, pushing rapidly on Cody’s chest. Duncan sighed as he realized that he would have to perform mouth-to-mouth, but Cody suddenly sat up, coughing water from his lungs.
“Cody,” Gwen sighed, throwing herself forward and pulling her brother into a hug.
“Wha-”
“Shh, don’t speak,” Duncan interrupted the younger boy. “Give your lungs some time to recover, they were drowning pretty bad.”
Cody’s eyes widened, seemingly just realizing how close to death he actually was. He relaxed against Gwen’s grip, and Gwen felt his body begin to shudder in sobs. For a few minutes, the three of them sat there, the only thing filling the silence being Cody’s quiet sobs.
_“He needs to go,”_ Duncan’s voice said in Gwen’s head.
“No, he can’t,” Gwen said out loud, causing Cody’s neck to snap up towards her, leaning slightly away.
“Can’t what?” He asked.
“You can’t leave me now,” Gwen cried, brushing away a tear she didn’t even realize formed. “What will happen if I let you go?”
Cody’s face fell and his eyes dropped to the ground. “I have to leave.”
Gwen sighed. “I know,” She responded weakly. “Izzy will take care of you. Crazy as she is, she can be responsible when she needs to be.”
“She’s currently running from the RCMP,” Cody pointed out. “She’s not exactly stable right now. But Gwen, I’m 15 years old. I can take care of myself. I’ll be okay, I promise.”
Gwen stared at her brother. Her mouth formed an ‘o’ shape. How had he seemingly aged so quickly with those few sentences?
“Okay,” She finally said slowly. “But I’m taking you to wherever that boat was supposed to go.”
Cody chuckled, though winced in pain. “Apparently there’s a luxury hotel that Chris has the eliminated contestants staying at.”
“Not fair,” Duncan interjected, looking genuinely offended.
“Well come on, let’s go,” Gwen said. She stood up, hooking her arms around her brother and hoisting him into her arms.
“ _Do you want me to come with you?”_ Duncan asked silently.
“ _No, I need to do this alone. I’ll let you know when he’s safe. Be back soon,”_ Gwen responded before launching herself into the air, her brother safe in her arms.
**Ooooooooooooooooo**
When Gwen returned back to camp after dropping off Cody, Duncan noticed immediately how drained she looked. The entire night had been a huge strain on Gwen’s mental and emotional state, and Duncan wanted nothing more than to hide her away for a while and let her cry and scream without anyone watching. However, he knew that this would be impossible, as the cameras kept rolling into the night and the rules about staying in cabins at night are, surprisingly, strict. |
bad5364629b74d1baa7cdf40efaeef8f | ['fc0aaeb7df80444faedbfca79c145bb0'] | Knot another smut ,':)
It was a simple mission. Lance and Keith were to retrieve pollen from a rare species of plant that grows in patches on a specific planet. Once the location of one of these patches was found lance and Keith were dropped into the ground. The plants were beautiful blue and red flowers. Once the two boys caught sight of them they admired their beautiful for a little before placing a few in a jar.
"These flowers a really beautiful." Keith almost whispers while plucking one.
"Yeah they sure are." The blue palidin replied while watching Keith.
Keith pulled his red helmet off while lifting the perfectly colored flower to his nose the smell it. Once the scent had fully registered in his mind he threw it back into the ground.
"Ew!" He shouted and placed his helmet back onto the fluff of mullet.
Lance snorted "That's what you get for sniffing random space flowers."
Keith let his expression fall into a annoyed look.
\------------------LATER--------------
After Keith got back from the simple easy mission he returned to his room to rest up. He felt strangely tired when he usually is ready to train. Keith allowed himself to fall onto the bed, almost immediately falling asleep.
Keith was awoken by the noise of his door sliding open. "Keith? Buddy are you ok?" It was Lance.
Keith felt the temperature of the room rise when he heard Lance say his name. "Yes?" He groaned.
"You didn't train it all today and missed dinner." Lance sat on the bed next to Keith. "And everyone was getting a little worried."
Keith sat up to look at lance. When Keith caught sight of the Cuban boy he felt the strong urge to kiss that worried look off his face.
"I'm fine." He lied. He felt everything but fine. He definitely shouldn't be having these thoughts of lance. Lance on his knees begging, Lance moaning and begging for Keith. Keith felt like he needed it so badly right now.
"Are you sure? You look like you're tryinh to kill the wall behind me with your glare."
"Oh." Keith hadn't realized he was staring into nothing while thinking of this. "Lance?"
"Yeah?" Lance looked him in the eyes with and innocent and concerned look.
Keith's urges only grew stronger by the second. He cupped lance's cheek and got closer lowering his voice almost whimpering. "I need you." Keith didn't want to cross any boundaries but he need to do this. He could feel his dick throbbing and mouth watering thinking about Lance on his dick.
"What?" Lance began to blush to the tips of his ears. He was then met by a pair of lips clashing with his, then a body over top of his.
It took lance to process all of this. When he did he began to kiss back. Keith began to grind down on lance adding friction.
"Keith?" Lance pulled away "listen I'm totally into this and all.... but like at you ok?" Keith began to attack Lance's neck sucking on his sweet spot causing a small moan to escape the other boys lips.
"I just really need you lance. I don't know what's going on but I want it to be you. I need it to be you."
Lance found this incredibly hot the way Keith said that.
"Fuck... god you're so hot." Lance pulled Keith back up into a passionate but sloppy kiss. | a35c22d551bc48edbde52a0e2383782f | ['fc0aaeb7df80444faedbfca79c145bb0'] | He loves me not
**Author's Note:**
> Y'all I'm really sad over this guy who I wasn't even dating. Basically he lead me on and then went back with his ex saying "She's the one I want and I don't want to loose her." I really really liked this guy and I thought we had something going. He would make me feel so special and the way we talked everyone agreed he was leading me on. Now time for the angst.
Lance's body fell out of the healing pod carefully being caught in warm arms.
"Hey." Keith said with a soft smile, he was the only one in the room waiting.
"How long was I out for?" Lance said, his voice s weak as he stood up on his wobbly legs.
"A little over a day." He replied, he felt so relieved Lance was ok.
Keith stood up next to Lance and helped him walk to his room with holding most of Lance's body weight. Keith swore the beating of his heart was louder than the noise of his shoes hitting the cold metal ground. Keith tried to keep himself from blushing but it was hard with the taller male pressed against him.
\--------------- LATER---------------
Keith stood in front of Lance's large metal door. It took one motion of a knock to alert Lance of someone's presence right outside his room. Lance sat up now in his casual wear and pressed "open" button on the panel. The door opener with a hiss. Lance was a little surprised to see his teammate Keith standing there. The other boy was fidgeting with his hands as if he was nervous.
"Oh! Hi Keith.... umm come in I guess." Lance said gesturing for the boy to sit on his bed. "What brings me the surprise."
"Well... there's something I need to get off my chest." Keith said his voice almost as a whisper as if someone might've been listening in.
"Oh. What are you sleeping with the princess?" The Cuban boy replied with a joke.
Keith turned to face Lance. He took in a deep breathe trying to calm his nerves. The galra could feel his heart trying to break out of his chest to run free from this problem.
"Lance I really really like you." Lance face had a shocked look on it but Keith didn't stop talking. "I've liked you since the Garison, that's why I said I didn't know you I was trying to act all cool but it back fired." Keith began fidgeting with his hands again. "And I like everything about you. You have a great personality, you always try to help the people around you and put them before you. Your beautiful smile. That cute blush that creeps onto your face when someone flirts with you. Lance.... I love you."
Keith's face was completely red at this point. He had confessed his feelings to his crush, his rival, and his teammate.
Lance gave Keith a sympathetic smile and placed his arm onto Keith's shoulder. "Keith you're a great teammate and I love bounding with you just as much as anyone else.... but I don't have those feelings for you. I don't want this to get in the way of our friendship and thank you for trusting me enough to tell me this." Lance was trying his hardest not to hurt Keith. He really did care about him, he was his teammates and friend.
"Thanks." Keith said trying to smile and act as if he wasn't heart broken "Well I'm going to go train, don't want to get behind." He said awkwardly walking out.
Once he heard to hiss of the door closing Keith ran to his room. Reaching his sleeping chambers he slid down with his back against the locked door. Hot tears flowed from his eyes falling from his cheeks. He couldn't think of anything other than all that made him love Lance. What would it be like to hold Lance. To be with Lance. He sat in his room for over an hour. He stopped crying awhile ago but his body was weak from shaking. There was a lump in his throat.
It was time for dinner. Once Keith felt like he didn't look like he had finished crying a second ago he stood up and left for the dinning room.
When Keith reached his usual seat he noticed the empty spot next to him instead of where Lanc normally
is. He scanned across the table to see Lance seated between Hunk and Pidge. His heart began to hammer in his chest, tears threatened to come out again but he ignored it. He stuffed his face with food to avoid talking.
Over the course of the meal Keith notice how Lance would avoid looking in his direction. Lance didn't try to pick a fight with him or even talk to Keith. These actions hurt more than the rejection. Lance didn't want anything of Keith anymore.
Later that night thoughts ran wild of what Lance could be thinking of Keith. He tried to tell himself Lance wouldn't think so poorly of him just because he liked the boy. But the thoughts kept coming. Keith muffled his cries with a pillow. Streams of hot tears pouring onto the soft fabric. He fell asleep hugging the pillow with apart of it soaked with his tears. |
5657214c3960434f92a1e70ba324f83c | ['fc1b1a18f84f42c1926f88cd61296dc3'] |
Das Boot
Medic insinuated himself into Heavy's workshop. This in itself was telling. Usually, he marched around like he owned the place. Now, however, his off-duty, shirtsleeves look was complemented by a sly grin.
Heavy looked up from his adjustments on Sasha, wondering why he couldn’t see anything. He remembered he was wearing magnifying glasses. He removed the silly looking things, smile breaking out over his face when he saw who it was. “Ahh, is you. Am happy to see you. You need help or just fun?” He knew that wasn’t exactly what he wanted to say, but English was still a challenge.
"Perhaps I need your help with some fun," Medic suggested suggestively. He reached out one finger and touched the naked skin at the back of Heavy's fingerless gloves.
Heavy shivered slightly at the touch. This was the first time he had been “allowed” to be open. It was still illegal, but at least here they were isolated, no gulags, and their teammates didn’t really seem to care. Plus repeated murder was illegal, even if it didn’t stick. “I can help with fun,” Heavy returned with a smoldering look.
"I want you." The older man drew close to whisper. "I want things from you that you never dreamed possible." His lips brushed Heavy's ear.
Heavy shivered. His lover's hot breath on his sensitive ear made him harden slightly. “Da, yes, want to go to room? No bed in workshop.”
"Come to the infirmary," Medic offered. "I have everything we need."
“Khorosho?* Doktor, infirmary only have cold table, why go there?” He was cautious, he didn’t want to lose a chance for fun with the sexy doctor, but also wasn’t too sure about what sort of insane ideas the man might have.
"Oh, I don't know, I rather like the gurney. But, somewhere with pillows might be better, it's true. My knees aren't what they were." It was true, he'd replaced his own knees several times for practice.
“Da, so Doktor still want to go there? I have bed.” Heavy hadn’t stopped walking with the man, he wanted this, whatever ‘this’ was.
"You sweet talker," Medic teased. "Let me stop by the infirmary for a moment." He darted into the antiseptic-scented room and re-emerged with a bulging doctor's bag after a few moments of frantic scuffling.
Heavy was glad he hadn’t had to lurk outside the infirmary with an awkward semi for too long. With his luck, Scout would have shown up, and nothing good ever came from that. “Let’s go to room.” Heavy put his hand on the small of Medic’s back and gave a slight push, more of a press. “What is in bag?”
Medic pressed back into the touch like a cat, refusing to be scooted forward any faster than he had planned to go. "You will see, Liebling,** patience."
Heavy was pleased he had done laundry and put it away yesterday. He hadn’t planned on having a guest, but the quick bit of tidying he did was a bonus. He felt bad about his unmade bed, and hoped that the German whose hospital corners were impeccable wouldn’t be too put off. He let Medic get in and look around while he shut and quietly locked the door.
Medic was not concerned about the decor, or lack thereof. No sooner was the door locked than he wrapped himself around the larger man, kissing him, sliding his hands up under his shirt, rutting against him.
Heavy was caught off guard, both by the suddenness and by all the blood rushing to his cock. He groped the doctor’s ass and ground back against him. He kissed and nibbled his lips, his neck, and his ears. He wanted to devour the man whole.
"I want something from you," Medic panted. "A bit of harmless fun. Won't you let me?" He stroked one long, delicate hand down Heavy's thigh.
The man was pushing all of the right buttons. Heavy was up for anything. He hadn’t been horny like this since he was teenager, and this time he wasn’t worried about the Red Army. “Da, for you Doktor, anything.” He paused. “No blood, just washed sheets.”
"No blood," Medic promised, eyes glowing with an unholy light. "Sit down. Please." It was an order, belatedly softened.
Heavy plunked down on the edge of the bed. He didn’t know what was going on, but that didn’t stop him from rubbing himself through his pants. Realizing he should probably get undressed, he bent to untie his boots.
"Neineineinei- " Medic coughed. "Ah, that will not be necessary." He began to rummage in the bag he'd brought with him, casually setting an enormous dildo on the bed beside Heavy's knee.
Heavy stopped, and then was stunned. Did Medic want to use that on him? It wouldn’t fit. Did Medic think he was too small? “Doktor?” He gestured as the artificial member invading his space. “Chrome za chert† is that?”
"It's a dildo, Lieber, I thought you knew that by now." He looked curiously up into Heavy's face. "Have you never seen one before? It's made or rubber." He wiggled it, demonstrating its bouncy qualities."
“I know what is, why is here?” Heavy grinned at the bounciness.
"I want you to fill both ends of me at once," Medic's gaze grew hot, "and I don't have the patience to hack the Respawn today."
Heavy opened his mouth but no sound came out. He nodded dumbly and undid his fly. He knew if he didn’t he was going to be in a lot of discomfort
"So schön,"‡ Medic cooed. He groped Heavy's thigh, but made no move to touch his cock. Instead, he went back to his bag and pulled out an incongruous small black tin and a brush.
Heavy raised one eyebrow, but said nothing. He touched himself and watched | 384c03a3ae8a44d084a753320b4d4b56 | ['fc1b1a18f84f42c1926f88cd61296dc3'] | “Indeed you make you good point, however how are we to sure that we truly have separate thought?” Heavy took out a small pair of wire rimmed reading glasses. “According to Spinoza we can only perceive things within our bodies. We have identical bodies, therefore would we not have the same perceptions and ultimately thoughts?”
"The same bodies certainly, but different positions in space and time, and therefore in experientiality. If you consider Spinoza as-"
"AHEM." Medic reclined on the bed that he had shared with the version of Heavy currently sharing a beret. The other Heavy had lost the coin toss and set up a bedroll. "I did not go to all this trouble to listen to you play word games," he continued in English.
Heavy sighed and rubbed his head, momentarily forgetting the beret. “Doktor, this is good. What would be better? Wait!” He got up and fished around in the nightstand. “Tea!”
"Oh, yes!" Ushanka Heavy exclaimed. "I'll get the water, you prepare the samovar... and if that physical manifestation of logical positivism doesn't convince you that we are two people, then nothing will!"
“Let me get this together and I will ponder that. I am still not convinced. Doktor, you want tea?”
"No!" Medic exclaimed. "No tea, and none of whatever you just said in Russian! I hacked Respawn to be satisfied from every possible angle, not to be bored to death!" He smacked the tea out of Beret Heavy's hand.
Heavy looked at the tea on the floor and turning to his ushanka wearing double, in Russian, “What should we do with him? He gets cranky without sex, as you know.”
"Yes, but this is a matchless opportunity to explore the frontier of philosophy, and we don't want to set a precedent like giving in to a cranky child."
"Stop speaking Russian!" Medic stamped his foot.
"You see what I mean?"
“I agree. We could treat him as if he were the petulant child he is acting like. Shall we try what Mama always did?” Heavy smirked and glanced at the German.
"Excellent plan, Comrade." Eyes narrowed, he rounded on their lover.
"Er- Lieber- Lieberen? What are you- AUGH!" Medic shrieked as he was pulled face-down over the Ushanka Heavy's lap.
The bereted Heavy did his best not to giggle as he yanked his lover’s pants off, exposing his fantastically pert buttocks. He kneaded them under his huge hands, looking at his partner for permission.
His doppelganger began to laugh, a deep rumble feared on battlefields around the world, and nodded. He rested one huge hand on the Medic's back, immobilizing him without a thought.
The Heavy with the beret raised a massive hand. “Doktor was rude child, will be treated like child.” With The he brought his hand down, the sound rang out in the tiny room.
Medic screamed in shock and outrage. Even as he was trying to struggle away, he felt the heat of the Heavy's cock pressing against his belly.
Another impact hit the Medic’s ass, both cheeks glowing red already. Heavy watched his lover squirm while being held by a perfect copy of himself. He felt his cock start to swell as he caressed the German’s ass again before the third swat.
Medic had never been unduly prone to introspection, but just now he was moved to consider the implications of the phrase "be careful what you wish for." On the other hand, if he insisted that his lover/s stop now, they would just resume their long-winded Russian discussion. He pushed his belly down into the one's lap, the better to display his ass to the other.
Seeing his lover present his ass caused Heavy’s cock to twitch and swell some more. He knew how amazing the doctor felt around his hard flesh, when he was seated deep inside. He grinned at his twin, knowing that Medic’s stomach was likely teasing his erection. If this kept up, the spanking would soon turn to more.
When the fourth swat was slow in coming, Medic knew his ploy was working. He looked up at the Heavy holding him down, eyelids low. "Kuss mich."
"Nyet," the big man smiled down at him. "You still need to learn lesson." He popped his finger in Medic's mouth, then looked over at his ally. "Two more, I believe."
“Da, moy drug.” He landed the next one hard. He knew the doctor could take it. He wanted him to learn that attempts at manipulation were not appropriate. But he also wanted to fuck him.
Medic screamed again, really putting his lungs into it. His cock had been hardening against the heat underneath him, but now it wilted. "All right, all right, I'm sorry!"
The ushanka Heavy shook his head. Sorry didn't cut it.
“Must learn patience, respect.” Punctuating the lecture with a strong smack, he continued, “We are not toy.” Beret-wearing Heavy looked at the ushanka Heavy with a tilt of his head.
"Please!" Medic cried, appealing to his captors in Russian. "Please, will do not again, sorry, now stop!"
"Very good," the ushanka Heavy smoothed his hand over his lover's stinging, cherry-red ass. "Now, you sit quietly while we finish our conversation, then we’ll have fun." He scooped the doctor up and wedged him against the wall behind him on the bed. "So, you called us 'we,' you admit on a semantic level that we are two persons," he turned back to the other Heavy and leaned back, using Medic as a panting, shaky cushion. "Join me."
Heavy adjusted his beret to a jaunty angle and sat down next to his companion, making use of the Medic pillow as well. “Well as you said, I did use ‘we’ and that make me think about the idea of …” They continued on, debating, chatting, and enjoying each other’s company.
Seeing that there was nothing else for it, the Medic prodded the Heavies into letting him take his pants all the way off and relaxed into his role as a pillow. Being trapped behind their bulk was soothing, and as the stinging in his ass had died down to a bruised ache, he drifted into a trancelike state.
**Author's Note:**
> Psych! No hot three-way action here! Next chapter, we swear. |
14c84b003b63489e895ea80266c335a6 | ['fc28bc9741a745c3a56467ca2bd6e8a5'] | The invitation was superfluous, she knew. As her sworn shield, he was obliged to follow her wherever she lead. But she didn’t want him to follow her merely out of duty alone. He was a great lord in his own right, and though she’d never treated him as such, she meant to make amends for that now. She had two other sworn shields, after all, and countless men-at-arms to command. But she had only one husband.
Jaime watched her for a moment, likely trying to divine her intentions, before dipping his head in agreement. “As my lady commands,” he said and waited for her to cross the threshold ahead of him before he fell into step behind her.
Sansa’s thoughts were in turmoil as they made the familiar crossing from her solar to the courtyard below. The clink of Jaime’s armor was loud in her ears and she half turned to find that he was following her closer than usual, only a pace and half behind her now instead of the more discreet distance he normally maintained. It made it impossible to ignore him as she usually did, though she knew it was merely part of their plan.
They’d agreed that they would need to start showing affection for each other when they were around others, as they could hardly expect the Northern lords to believe that they had fallen in love overnight when they’d had nearly a year’s worth of evidence to the contrary. It was paramount that they convince Sansa’s bannermen and the castle servants alike, as any doubts that they held would surely make their way back to the Dragon Queen, and the consequences of that could be dire. Yet their affection would need to seem real and so it must be subtle, no grand displays or lovelorn looks across the Great Hall as that would all seem too sudden to hold any merit.
Instead, they would lace their interactions with enough unspoken affection that any onlooker would see a couple that was undoubtedly fond of each other, but unwilling to display that affection in front of prying eyes, at least until the Dragon Queen arrived and their game began in earnest.
It was the only reason she didn’t jump when their shoulders brushed as they passed down the narrow stairs to the lower level of the castle, or when they reached the glass gardens and Jaime held the door open for her, the fingers of his good hand pressing into the small of her back briefly as she moved to step past him.
_Part of the plan_ , she told herself, even as her heart leapt into her throat at the casual touch. _Just part of the plan._
The warm, earthy air of the gardens hit her as she stepped inside and she closed her eyes briefly, breathing it in. Sansa had always loved the glass gardens as a girl. She’d come here often to look upon the blue winter roses that grew on a trellis in the center of the garden, sometimes picking a few to weave into flower crowns for her hair.
Without thinking, she followed her feet through the hedges and before long, she found herself standing before that same trellis. The winter roses were sparse compared to the thriving plants of her youth, but they were there all the same, and she felt her eyes fill absurdly at the sight. She tilted her face up and blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. Before long, she heard a rustling of armor as Jaime approached and she turned her face away.
“My lady,” he called quietly, and she turned back to face him. “Are you well?”
His green eyes were soft, softer perhaps than she had ever seen them and filled with clear concern.
_No,_ she wanted to say. _Nor will I be, if you keep looking at me like that_. But instead she only nodded, not trusting her voice enough to speak.
Jaime gave her a look that clearly said he didn’t believe her, but he turned away from her and eyed the roses speculatively. She was about to turn away in search of Vyman, the head gardener, when he turned back to her with a question in his eyes. Her brows drew together in confusion until her gaze caught on the blue rose in his hand and she stilled. He took a step toward her, then another, and she could do nothing but gaze up at him as he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, then pressed the flower into place among the strands. His gaze dipped to her lips and for one wild moment, she thought he might kiss her but he reached for her hand instead, pulling it up to his lips and planting a lingering kiss on her knuckles, before releasing her hand and stepping back.
Sansa let out a shuddering breath that was anything but feigned. She didn’t think he had ever looked at her with such tenderness in his eyes and she wondered what had changed that he looked upon her with such fondness now.
_Part of the plan_ , she realized and her heart hardened even as it sank. Of course. _Of course_.
She felt her back straighten and her shoulders draw back and she turned abruptly away from him, her feet leading her blindly down the path towards the entrance. She didn’t pause to see if he followed.
_Life is not a song, sweetling_ , she recalled.
_Yes,_ she vowed. _I will remember._
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I hope you're all ready to meet the real villain of this fic: Miscommunication! Haha
>
> I jest, but in all honestly, the tragedy of what's going on here is that Jaime and Sansa both secretly WANT a real marriage with each other, but they're convinced that's not what the other person wants so they're quietly testing their boundaries (Jaime especially) and hiding behind the "it's all an act" excuse so that they don't have to fess up to their real feelings. Which is quite a dangerous game to play for two people with as complicated histories as Jaime and Sansa.
>
> Next chapter will be Jaime's POV and we'll see his perspective on what's going on between him and Sansa. We also have a chapter or 2 more before Dany arrives and the real games begin.
>
> As always, thank you for reading! | d9afc4988b7a44a890c7d7ef6844d351 | ['fc28bc9741a745c3a56467ca2bd6e8a5'] |
1. Chapter 1
Jaime Lannister woke to a rapping on his door, three solid _thunks_ that seemed to echo about his small chambers, pulling a groan from his lips. He cracked his eyes open and glanced at his window; it was well before dawn and the fire had died down to mere embers some time in the night, cloaking the room in darkness. He had half a mind to roll back over, bury himself in the furs until at least a more decent hour, but the pounding at his door sounded again, somewhat louder this time, and he dragged himself to his feet. He reached the door in two long strides and pulled it open to reveal a startled Brienne of Tarth, her brilliant blue eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, her mailed fist raised as if to knock again.
He bit back the sharp retort that had been on the tip of his tongue and swallowed. He knew she would only disturb him at such an ungodly hour if she had no other choice. “Has something happened?”
She lowered her fist and composed herself, at once as calm and collected as he had ever seen her. “Lady Sansa bid me rouse you. You are to attend her in her solar as soon as possible.”
He narrowed his eyes. He knew better than to think his lady wife had summoned him for the pleasure of his company. “ _Brienne_. Has something happened?”
“She would not say.”
A sigh escaped his lips, but he only nodded and promised to make his way to Sansa’s solar as soon as he could. He closed the door and set about making himself decent for her, which was no small task considering his current state. He’d grown better at dressing himself in the years since he’d first lost his hand, though it still took far longer than it had when he was whole.
By the time he reached his wife’s solar, the castle had begun to stir. He passed a serving girl in the corridor as he neared Sansa’s door. The girl passed by him briskly, only pausing to dip the briefest curtsy, her eyes never meeting his, before she scurried off again. It was no different than any of the other servants in Winterfell. He wondered how long he could walk these halls and still feel like a stranger.
When he reached Sansa’s door, Jaime paused. He’d often stood outside it, especially in the early days after he’d first sworn his sword to her, but he’d never had much occasion to step inside. Somehow it felt too intimate to cross her threshold now, especially at such an early hour, as if he were her husband in truth rather than just in name. He shook his head to free himself of the notion, then raised his hand and knocked.
“Enter,” she called.
When he did, the sight that greeted him made his stomach twist in a way that was not entirely uncommon when he was in the presence of Sansa Stark. She was, at all times, a vision and that moment was no exception. She sat at a small table by the hearth, cloaked only in a thin dressing gown of palest grey, her hair unbound and flowing down her back like flame. He came to a stop in the middle of the room and bowed.
“My lady,” he said, as he straightened, watching as her gaze drifted over his form, assessing. Some small part of him wondered what she saw. Her brows drew together faintly and one hand twisted in the fabric of her skirt, though she did not move to speak. “You summoned me?” he prompted when the silence between them stretched thin.
She blinked, seemingly caught off guard for a heartbeat, before she recovered and nodded. “I did. Will you sit with me, Ser?” She gestured to the chair across from her. He fought the urge to lift a brow. If it was rare to be invited into her solar, it was rarer still to be invited to stay. Still, he could think of no reason not to and so he folded himself into the chair she offered with a murmured “thank you” and waited as she drew a breath to speak.
“There was a raven in the night. From your brother.” She slid the slip of parchment across the table toward him and his heart immediately leapt into his throat. “The Dragon Queen is on her way North.”
His eyes scanned the parchment feverishly. It was indeed his brother’s florid script. “She means to make her way to the Wall to survey the status of the repairs there,” he read aloud, his eyes skimming the missive for whatever had distressed her enough to rouse him from his sleep. Finding nothing, he glanced up at her, then narrowed his eyes. “But you don’t believe that.”
Sansa shook her head. “No. The Wall has been in ruins for over a year and she’s never gone so far out of her way. Why now?”
Jaime had no answer.
“It’s a ruse,” she declared, her tone hushed. “I’m sure she _will_ make a visit to the Wall eventually, but she’ll want to stop at Winterfell first to rest and resupply her men. And while she’s here, she’ll be free to question us at her leisure; to investigate her lack of an heir.” |
9b3b99bbc1884c8e8332297ab7099ed0 | ['fc2ec28d82024873830e21f06d96bf78'] |
1. Chapter 1
After a failed suicide attempt, John Laurens was dropped off at a teen rehab center by his good for nothing father so he could "Work his problems out."
That's when John meets Alexander Hamilton, adopted son of the boss of the center. The annoying boy does nothing but pester him about his problems, since apparently he's a therapist. Fuck that.
Eventually, though, John opens up to Alex and finds out they have more in common than he thought.
\---------------------------------------
"Well, here's your room! We hope you'll be comfortable. Since you recently attempted, we've decided not to give you a roommate for the time being." The girl chattered nonstop, as she pushed the door open.
"Eventually you'll get a roommate, but since you don't have one you can choose either side of the room to stay in."
John glanced around the room, and threw his stuff at the wall. It bounced off, and hit the bed. By stuff, he means clothes. He wasn't allowed to bring anything else, since they were worried he'd try and kill himself again. Boohoo. As soon as he's out of here, he's doing it again and this time he won't fail.
"Here's your schedule! The facilitators have arranged everything to your liking, as your father gave us Info on what you enjoyed doing in your pastimes!"
"He lied. What I like doing in my pastimes is cutting myself. Now get out." He ordered, whipping around and fixing her with an icy glare.
Unfazed, she simply smiled and walked out, shutting the door behind her. The lock clicked, and he grew angry at the sound. Walking to a bed, he laid out on it, and lifted his bandaged wrist. Why couldn't it have worked? He'd be gone, away from his homophobic father and away from all his problems.
Snatching the schedule, he scanned down the neat list.
7:30-8:30: wake up, shower.
8:30-9: breakfast.
9-10: free time.
10-11: therapy session.
11-12: physical education. (Swimming, boxing, ect.)
12-1: lunch
1-2: recreational activities.
2:30-3:30: medical analysis
3:45-4:45: Crafts. (Painting, weaving, ect.)
5:00-6:00: dinner preparation. Help cooks.
6:30-7:00: Dinner.
8:00-9:30: Movie, if you wish.
10:00: lights out.
He scoffed, and threw it down. There's no way this is happening. This must be one of those into the future flashes you get when you're actually dying...which, unfortunately, he isn't.
Letting out a sigh, he looked up at the wall clock...9:30. He's definitely not watching a movie. he's tired, doesn't want to be alive, and sort of misses his turtle.
Changing out of his stiff, uncomfortable clothes, he discarded them on the floor and crawled under the cold, weird sheets.
This is what he's used to. Laying in the bed because he simply doesn't have enough energy or will to live to force himself onto his feet.
It's a shame he's dropped down so far to this. Depression's a bitch.
2. Chapter 2
"RING RING RING RING"
The quiet peacefulness of the room was shattered as the alarm clock began its blaring. John buried his head into his pillows, one hand covering his ear and the other reaching for the machine that was causing his torture.
Finding the cord, he yanked it out of the wall and threw it. A loud THUNK assured him that he'd got something, and that it wouldn't be making any more noise.
He blinked open his eyes, and sighed.
This wasn't one of his good days.
Not that he had any, anyways. Some days are just harder to bear, and this wasn't going to be an easy one.
Brushing the curly Auburn hair out of his face, he turned onto his side and pulled the blankets around his neck. He's not moving today. The stupid doctors and stupid therapists can try, but he's not moving.
\------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Come on, John. There's tons of people we want you to meet!" The same woman from the day before said, brushing her dark hair away from her eye. John glanced at her, noticing the name tag pinned to her blue uniform.
"Listen, Eliza. I don't care about other people. I don't care about my health. I'm not moving from this bed or this room willingly so if you want me to go join whatever stupid activities you have planned, you'll have to drag me! Now get out of my fucking room!"
"John-"
"OUT!" he yelled, his voice cracking. She frowned, and walked out the door without another word.
Letting out a strangled breath, he threw himself onto the pillows. No, he's not gonna cry, he's not gonna cry...
That was a lie.
And crying doesn't even make him feel better. It just makes him more upset.
Is it time for breakfast? He doesn't know. Eating isn't a priority. He wonders of anyone is going to check on him... Not likely.
His father comes to haunt him in his thoughts for a while.
After all, it was mostly that devil of man's fault that he's like this. If he hadn't been cruel to his wife, she wouldn't have left him and John would grow up happy.
Happy? He doesn't even remember what it feels like to be happy. He's 19 years old and instead of enjoying life, he's locked up in a rehab center. Nothing could get worse.
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I just don't think it's a good idea, Alexander. He's very fragile and it's only his second day here. I wouldn't go in out of nowhere and try to be his friend. According to eliza-"
"I don't care about what Eliza said happened! This will be my first patient. Come on, George..."
"Alex, it's not that i doubt your abilities, but this boy has anger issues as well as trying to kill himself-"
"Come on. I'm not throwing away my shot to make a difference in this boy's life! He came here to get better, and as a therapist that's my job!"
"Don't get ahead of yourself. You're not a licensed therapist, not yet." | 1923819a92904baf93a565c8e4064ba5 | ['fc2ec28d82024873830e21f06d96bf78'] | "My brain is advanced for my age. Come on, pleeaaaase??"
"Ale-"
"Come on, dad."
Washington sighed, exasperated.
"So you insist you're not my son, but when you want something you pull the dad card?"
"Please?"
"Fine." Washington threw his hands up in defeat, and started looking through the files.
"Here's what he was admitted for. Have fun trying to crack this boy."
\--------------------------------------------------
John was lying on his bed, daydreaming, when the door opened.
"I thought I told you to get out, Eliza." He snapped.
"Oh, I'm not Eliza."
He shot into a sitting position, and glared at the newcomer.
"Who are you?"
"Alexander Hamilton. It's a pleasure to meet you, John Laurens."
3. Chapter 3
"I clearly stated I don't want anyone bothering me." John hissed. Alexander kicked his shoes off and hopped on the opposite bed, therefore facing the angry boy.
"And I'm clearly stating that I'm not leaving." He answered, meeting john's angry gaze.
"What do you even want?! Can't I be left alone to sit in here? I don't want to talk to anyone, and certainly not YOU."
"Unfortunately, we shouldn't leave you alone. And therapy is a must, so I'm not leaving."
"You? A therapist? Please. Just get out of my room before I find something to hurt you with."
"I am a therapist, as I've already graduated high school and enlisted in a university. Also, I wouldn't try anything. I could take you on in a heartbeat."
That itself was a lie, but Alexander was kinda hoping that it worked, since he really didn't need to fight this boy. Washington wouldn't let him near him again if that happened.
"Oh really? A short, pathetic gremlin could take me on? I'm giving you 10 seconds before I throw you out of my room. I'm tired, I hate my life, and I don't want to talk to anyone so GET OUT!" John yelled, clenching his fists so hard that the knuckles turned white.
"John, I'm sorry for barging in, but I'm only here to help you, I promise."
"I don't want your help! I want my old life back! I hate it here and after only a few minutes, I hate you! Just leave me alone!" He screamed, his face flushing red and the tears pouring down his face. He buried himself in the bed, and pulled the covers around him.
"Fine. I'll leave you be, but you need to eat. If you don't, they'll force you. You can't starve yourself."
"Whatever. I want to die, and I'll figure out how to. You and your stupid facility won't stop me." John spat from under the covers, his voice still shaking from his sobs.
"I'll be back tomorrow. Hopefully, we can talk more after that."
"Fuck off." John threw the covers off, and glared at him.
"Adieu, John." Alex said, writing things on his clipboard before walking out of the room.
_________________
Stupid.
This is all so stupid.
He wants to die even more than before. The second "Alexander Hamilton" walked in, he KNEW he was one of those "We're going to make you talk about your feelings!" Therapists. He doesn't WANT to talk about his feelings. He doesn't WANT to throw his life story on a therapist who would just coo and tell him everything will be okay; because it's not. Nothing is ever okay. There will always be one thing in your life that is spiraling out of control while the rest of you is fine.
He sighed, pushing the covers off of himself and stepping on to the floor. He should probably find something to eat in the cafeteria...he's not going out by starving himself. There's gotta be blood when he does.
Grabbing his shoes, he pulled them over his socks and walked towards the door. He pulled it open, and looked to see Eliza walking towards his room.
"Oh! You're up! I was just coming to get you." She exclaimed, adjusting her name tag.
"The cafeteria is this way. Anyhoo, how did the therapy session with Alex go?" She chirped, leading him down a hallway.
"I'd rather not discuss it." He snapped, crossing his arms and staring ahead.
Eliza noticed his anger and quickly dropped the subject, changing it to how bad the weather was turning.
Hallway after hallway they walked, until Eliza pushed open the door.
"Just go up and the cooks will give you what you need. You can sit anywhere, I'll be with some of the other therapists and such. I'll take you back to your room afterwards."
"Who said I wanted to go back?"
"Well, um, I just assumed-"
"Don't ASSUME anything about people. You're a pathetic excuse for a caretaker." He snapped, and turned to walk off.
He kinda regretted it afterwards. Eliza was just trying her best, but there’s no use wasting time on him. He’s a lost soul, there’s no hope for him.
After getting food, he glanced around the room, searching for an empty table. With his luck, there were none. The only table he was considering had one person seated at it, randomly picking at the food.
Sighing, he walked through the room towards the table. He dropped the tray on the table, and sat down with a huff.
The boy sitting across from him had his brown hair tucked into a bun, and his face was strained, but friendly.
“Hi. I’m Marie‑Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette, but you can just call me Lafayette.”
4. Chapter 4
Eliza anxiously paced the waiting room floor. Strong, brave, Angelica has been reduced to a sobbing mess, while their father stood rigid.
She still can't believe this happened.
Wiping the tears off her face, she continued to pace the floor. The taping of her shoes kept her grounded, giving her something, anything, to focus on besides the silence of the room.
The door opened, and the family turned to face whoever might be at the door, hoping, PRAYING, that- |
2ca203110bb94395bd77a60820b2470b | ['fc45c3afb4964dd780e2d4b16a2a586b'] | With a smirk on his lips he spoke again, “I suppose that’s what happens when you try teaching whores some respect. Now you grab the little flower cowering in the corner.” He indicated Lenora who had retreated to the wall. “Horace and I’ll take the homely bride and the drunk.” He and the human on his right grabbed Valora and Shianni. Valora moved with a hand gripping the back of her neck, Shianni being dragged forward by the hair. As they left the room the leader indicated the last two guards remaining. “You two, bind the last one. Lord Vaughan likes her look and want to keep her for last.”
The two guards stepped aside as first guards dragged her 3 remaining companions away, before turning back to face her from just outside the room.
One of the guards had a large moustache, the other was shaven, but otherwise they were identical brutes who spent a moment looking over Kallian. Meanwhile Kallian felt her thoughts focusing in a way that should have made the humans look wary. ( _Full armour, but open face. Exposed neck, no chainmail on helmet. Armpit vulnerable, old thin armour._ ) Kallian moved her feet apart slightly, her dress raised along her legs as a result, her boots now visible under the hem.
Moustache made a noise almost of disappointment, “Don’t worry, we’ll be perfect gentleman if you behave.” Kallian bent her knees slightly lowing her balance centre, she could no longer hear the boots of the other guards taking her friends away. ( _Just these two in area._ )
Moustache pointed to Nola’s body and said in a rough voice, “Now don’t try anything runt, or you will end up like this, just another dead breeder.” ( _Both have armour, need to move quickly when they come close. Neck and face weak points._ )
The other human looked down at her corpse on the floor, “A shame though, nice body on that one.”
His companion turned and jeered, “She’s still warm, how picky are you anyway?” ( _I am going to kill you._ )
Kallian heard footsteps and then there was a flash of silver, and Moustache was reeling backwards, a sword having nearly parted his head. ( _Or not._ )
“Bloody Maker!” The other guard span around turning his back on Kallian, fumbling as he drew his sword. As soon as his eyes were off her Kallian bent down, deftly pulled out the dagger in her right boot. Her rise from the crouch turning into a jump as she moved over Nola’s body avoiding the pool of blood so she didn’t slip. “Who are you?” Kallian ran a few step then jumped. Her boots landed at the top of the guard’s belt, knees apart avoiding his torso. One hand grabbed hold of his pauldron for support, as her right hand sank the dagger into his neck the momentum carrying it deep, then she began stabbing again and again.
The momentum of her jump carried the guard forward and he fell on his face with Kallian now crouching on the small of his back. She stabbed him once again for good measure, ( _bastard_ ) before looking up. “Thank the Maker, Kallian.” Kallian now saw both Nelaros and Soris standing before her, they wore plain brown clothes but both held a sword raised, Nelaros with blood dripping from his. Nelaros must have killed the first guard giving her an opening. ( _Ok, still not sure on the marrying thing, but he is definitely getting a good snog when this is over._ )
“Hello boys, did you get an invite to the _party_ too?” Kallian wiped the dagger clean on her own dress looking at the two human corpses. The one she was crouching on had a sword and shield, not her style. But the one killed by Nelaros, had a mace and dagger. Putting the dagger back in her boot, Nelaros’ eyebrows raising as she did so, Kallian grabbed the guard’s mace and unclipped the dagger scabbard. Having strapped the scabbard to her waist she drew the dagger and slashed open the hem of her blood spattered dress, giving her better mobility.
Soris chuckled watching her hack away at her wedding dress, “We may have intended to crash the party Kallie.” ( _Hmm, a lot of nervousness in his voice, but he still came, he is braver than he thinks deep down._ )
“Tsk, no manners with boys today. Where did you get the swords?”
Nelaros lowered his sword and answered, “The Grey Warden got them for us, he and a servant helped us get in.”
“Good, well boys, let’s go, can’t keep the host waiting.” Kallian rose to her feet, rolling her grip on the mace and idly twirling the dagger, getting a feel for the weight of both.
Nelaros stepped forward to Kallian, and she could see relief in his eyes which made her feel quite uncomfortable. He also looked like he was going to say something awkward. ( _Other people in danger you know._ ) “Come on boys, they only just took the others away, if we are fast we may get them before anything too bad happens.” As Kallian strode in the direction the guards had gone she heard Soris call out.
“Kallie, what about Nola?” ( _\---_ )
Kallian turned and looked at the room where her friend’s corpse lay in a pool of blood. With a deep sigh she looked Soris in the eye, “There is nothing we can do for her now, we need to save those we can.” Soris hung his head and Nelaros put a hand on his shoulder giving it a squeeze. But they both followed Kallian down the corridor and through a door that lead to a main entrance. | de350b47bb5b4f5d9e7f44848262db96 | ['fc45c3afb4964dd780e2d4b16a2a586b'] | Cedric felt himself sweating, shaking his head slowly. Now it seemed to Cedric as if there were a lot of eyes on his back. If the Warden was speaking true, then in _his_ and his cohort’s quest for advancement, had been undermining what seemed like the only victories in a war that if you asked an intelligent and unbiased historian, was simply a slow defeat on the part of the Dwarves.
“Now I am not going to tell you my name, as you probably won’t recognise it, but you heard me say ‘It has always been my goal’ yes?” a nod from Cedric, “then when I tell one of the titles I am known by you should be able to guess that a lot of the strategy in the war against the Darkspawn has been of my conception. I am Mage of the Grey, the most senior mage among the Grey Wardens, responsible for the continued training of all mages within the order, I hold the rank equivalent of Warden Commander in any nation I reside in. I am as it happens as of a few months ago 300 years old, and you are privileged my friend I do not believe anyone else in Thedas knows that piece on information. And I have made the destruction of the Darkspawn my life’s work for most of that considerable time.”
There was no fear in Cedric, he had moved past that. The Mage of the Grey, the Grey Mage. Some said he was an abomination, a monster, some said he hero, a protector, some said all of the above. Divine Victoria was famous for saying that this mage was the “Bulwark against the Tide” nearly a century ago.
The man stood up and walked towards the bed. Cedric’s heart hammering as if it were desperate to get out of his chest.
“The common people do not know as much about the Darkspawn as they probably should. They do not know the details of the fight against the Darkspawn. They do not know about their nature, how they breed, what the taint really is and what it does.
“I am going to show you all I know, you will understand the nature of the Darkspawn and every facet of the wars against them. The purpose of the Grey Wardens and the use I have put them to and will put them to in the wars to come. I will then ask you a question.
“I will ask you, that if you were in my place, you would permit anyone to undermine the fight against them. Whether or not in my place you would let Baron Cedric live.”
The Warded reached down and placed his finger tips on either side of Cedric’s head. Cedric saw a flash in the Warden’s eyes, pale blue, and then a purple tinged red. Then Cedric knew everything. The Darkspawn, the Old Gods, the Taint, the histories forgotten, the battles never given names for there was always going to be another, the screams in the dark from those never found. All of this coursed through Cedric’s mind, it seemed to take days but it was only a handful of moments before the Warden stood and removed his hands.
“Now Cedric Cen-Valmont, in my place would you let someone like you continue to undermine the efforts of the Grey Wardens to protect people just like you, so that you never have to see a Darkspawn, and have the freedom to believe that they are just stories?”
Cedric’s voice was horse as he croaked out the word “No.” Tears falling down his cheek at the things he had seen.
***
The Warden touched a hand to Cedric’s forehead and he was instantly asleep, eyes drifting closed and the face relaxing. No point letting him stay awake longer. After the initial thought he would just start bleating about how his mind had been changed, how he could persuade the others to abandon their self-serving trail of lies.
He did not need Cedric for that. While the Mage of the Grey had shared his memories, he himself had searched Cedric’s mind for all the answers he needed. He knew all the co-conspirators, and who they have been talking to. The conspirators could be dealt with, and he had agents within court who could dissuade the lords they had been talked to, to change their thoughts or simply redirect them. He considered talking to the Inquisition about dealing with these nobles, but perhaps best that they not have too big a role in his plans for the Orlesian Court.
The Inquisition had already pledged their army to support the Dwarven advance south from Orzammar. With the Ferelden army pressing from the east, and soon the Orlesian army from the west, the Wardens could champion the cleansing of thousands of leagues of enemy territory. The Dwarven people reclaiming resources and room to repopulate. Ferelden and Southern Orlais gaining access to the kind of trading relationship and safe travel routes not enjoyed since Old Tevinter. And final victory actually a possible thing, something that can actually be envisioned for the first time. A rallying cry that can be used calling the lazy surface nations in to action at last. We beat the Darkspawn here. We can do it again.
It all seemed so long, every step laborious, fighting for every small insignificant victory. But looking back now, it all seems to have added up. A century ago no one could imagine the kind of progress that had been made since. Victory actually possible, far in the distance perhaps but there if we worked for it. Once again he saw that corpse of a Darkspawn emissary, a memory he had drifted back to more times that he could care to remember. To that memory he said, “No, now we can win.”
Cedric still sleeping, the mage reached out with his magic and spread the paralysis spell completely. Every muscle tensed, the lunges ceased to move. But he maintained the sleep spell. No need to be cruel. As air was deprived the body slowly died, never making a sound.
As he felt life finally leave the young man’s body, he released the spells he had wrought that night. He placed a hand on the door, and with the slighted pressure it seemed to give up all resistance and he passed through it into the hall. The door completely unmarked. A maid was walking through the hall, but she made no notice of the stranger, did not even notice as she walked around a spot on the landing as if there was something in that space.
The next morning the body of Cedric Cen-Valmont was found in his bed. No marks were on his body, he was simply gone. The door had been locked from the inside, the windows were too small for anyone even an elf to fit through. There was no scaring on the inside of the mouth indicating poison and the guards who had taken turns watching and listening all night had heard nothing. It was deemed by the court to be a mystery and a tragedy, with a moments silence held on behalf of this young man so early into his entry of the Game. But the Game moves on. |
da4f8e329e93494a9becb1d1537b7447 | ['fc478be20b0047119597a562f34a946e'] | Miranda's Cheeky Secret
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
“I thought it might help if you two just kissed and got it over with.” Shepard’s words hung in the air, filling the atmosphere with a lingering shade of discomfort. Jack cleared her throat, hoping to dispel whatever awkwardness the Commander had injected into their conversation.
“Well. Miranda. I guess you’re not all bad. I mean you have a great ass, so I s’pose that counts for something.” Jack looked down at her drink, hoping that Miranda would not see the red colouring her cheeks.
“I think your butt is a bit more important.”
“...What the fuck, Cerberus?”
“I’m not with Cerberus anymore, I thought I made that clear.”
Jack turned to face Miranda, who was not quite Miranda anymore. She had been replaced with a gigantic bubbly butt. Somehow the butt continued to speak, despite not having a mouth.
“Jack, I’ve wanted you to know for so long.” Jack had no words. She could only stare in a mixture of horror and fascination as the butt continued to speak, if you could call it that.
“I’ve been hiding this for so long. One of the side effects from extensive genetic modification, I guess. I… I just can’t hide this anymore. I love you Jack, and I wanted you to know.”
They stood there in silence for what felt like an eternity. Jack placed her hand on Miranda’s ass, not that there was much else to place her hand on.
“It’s… It’s ok. I suppose. I honestly don’t know what’s happening anymore. The galaxy is burning, Reapers are everywhere, Cerberus is more everywhere than the reapers, and you’re a fucking giant ass.”
“Well it’s not like you’ve never said that to me before.”
Jack couldn’t help but grin, but that was short lived as she thought about what was happening.
“How the fuck… How are you even talking? Or seeing me? Or listening? I don’t understand.”
Miranda, or Miranda’s butt, moved in such a way that Jack could have sworn it was looking her in the eyes. “I don’t know how to explain this to you, Jack. Honestly, I don’t really understand it myself. My father was not prepared for this kind of… side effect when he created me. That’s why he was so intent on creating Oriana, I guess. Knowing what made me flawed… He wanted to create someone better. Someone who wasn’t a monstrosity.” The butt twitched as Miranda’s voice hitched and Jack could only assume she was crying, as much as a butt could cry.
“Hey. Cheer-.. Miri. Your dad’s gone. Hell you pulled the goddamn trigger. Fuck him. You’re beautiful alright? I mean, being a massive ass doesn’t mean anything. Look at what you’ve done. Listen to me, the psychotic biotic, trying to make YOU feel better. Of all people.” Jack couldn’t help herself, fumbling with her words as she tried to make the giant ass feel better. She’d been through hell and back and seen some fucked up shit but this would have to be near the top.
Jack could’ve sworn she heard that skintight suit-bound ass sniffle as it said “Thanks, Jack. That means a lot to me.” Going against all her instincts, she walked around to the other side of the counter and gripped the posterior in a tight embrace.
“Chin up, cheerleader. Or ass. Do you even have a chin? Fuck.”
Miranda laughed and Jack looked at her, surprised to see the human form holding her close. The looming end of the galaxy didn’t seem so bad after all. | 6e87d70f820f4c6aa15d6eb88dd677ca | ['fc478be20b0047119597a562f34a946e'] | Ten times Isabela came to visit
**Author's Note:**
> My first fanfic ever so please let me know what you think!
The first time Isabela came over, Merrill thought she was just another shem intruder who saw the inviting glint of the Eluvian through the window. She had her dagger in hand, blade pressed against her palm when a bold “Hello?” rang through the house and Merrill relaxed. A voice that was thick and sweet like honey or syrup or melted chocolate. Isabela laughed and beckoned Merrill forward as the elven woman crept out from her bedroom.
“Well come on now kitten, I have a little welcome gift for you. Hawke mentioned you might need some new clothes”. Merrill had gasped as a beautiful set of green robes that weren’t second hand or patched or tattered were pulled over her head and wrapped Isabela in a tight hug.
The second time Merrill was shy and awkward and Isabela was lovely and beautiful and sweet. Merrill couldn’t stop from rambling, as she served Isabela tea and biscuits. No one else ever came to visit, save for Hawke when he wanted her skills for a particular outing. Merrill brought out the collection of flowers she had been building while Isabela smiled and laughed heartily at Merrill fussing over a particular spot of dust she missed on the table and the little speck of dirt on her floor.
The third time Isabela was drunk and still holding a flagon of whatever it was that she liked to drink so much. She barely had time to say hello before Isabela flopped down on her floor, scaring Merrill until she realised Isabela was snoring. Dragging the rogue onto her bed, Merrill tucked her in and smiled at the beautiful woman in her bed before sitting herself down in front of the Eluvian again. Isabela woke to her curled up in front of the old mirror and carried her to her own bed before leaving the house without a word.
The fourth time, a drinking competition hosted by Varric followed by spin the bottle resulted in a night where one thing led to another and they found themselves naked on Merrill’s floor. It had been so long and Merrill had never been with a human anyway, although truth be told they weren’t all that different. There were hands and lips and there was kissing and touching and then it was over and Merrill was asleep and Isabela treading softly out of the house with a quiet ‘Good night, kitten’.
The fifth time wasn’t until several months later, when Merrill finally got the courage to talk to Isabela and Isabela finally stopped avoiding Merrill. Their soft kisses were interrupted by hushed apologies, hidden away in a back alley in Lowtown. These turned into soft moans and soon Merrill was untying the knots holding Isabela’s corset together and Isabela was simply ripping the robes from Merrill’s body. Their touches were both familiar and foreign and as Merrill’s breathing calmed down she fell into a deep slumber. Isabela stole a final kiss before sneaking out the door, leaving the room smelling of sex, sweat and tears.
The sixth time Isabela said goodbye. Merrill begged her not to leave. She cried and cried even after Isabela left her little home. “Sorry, kitten” she had said, not daring to look Merrill in the eye as she walked quickly out the door.
The seventh time took an eternity to occur. Hawke had to knock down Merrill’s door to get in and she squinted as she hadn’t seen sunlight since Isabela left. A bashful, almost ashamed Isabela was knocked to the ground by the smaller woman as she cried tears of happiness, gripping her tightly and telling her never to do that again.
The eight time happened right after the seventh. Celebrating Isabela’s return they all had a fancy dinner at Hawke’s mansion where Merrill quietly asked Isabela to escort her home afterwards. Isabela was gentle and sweet and loving and Merrill came too fast for her own liking and fell asleep even faster. Isabela kissed the sleeping elf goodbye before she slinked through the door once more.
The ninth time, Merrill cried. Losing one’s family was hard enough; being forced to kill them yourself was even harder. Isabela held Merrill close as Merrill recited In Uthenera with ragged breaths and heart-breaking sobs.
The tenth time, they all knew a war was brewing. Merrill and Isabela both knew that something big was coming and they were going to be caught in the thick of it. Tonight they would forget about the rest of Kirkwall and know only each other. Merrill left soft kisses all over Isabela’s body, familiar and lovely and beautiful as always. They held each other close, tightly, neither wanting ever to let go. Merrill came first, time pausing as she saw starbursts through her tightly shut eyes. Isabela followed suit not long after with a much louder exclamation and they collapsed in a hot, sweaty, messy heap upon Merrill’s bed. A whispered “I love you Bela” escaped Merrill’s lips as she fell asleep. Isabela smiled and murmured “I love you too, kitten”, before gathering Merrill into her arms and falling asleep beside her. |
433c833886504eb0845b8c8b7d3ed82d | ['fc91126db76d4f1ba25d017801a5901d'] | Broken Man
Virgil couldn't find the right words to describe how he felt. He curled in tighter on himself as all the words people had said ran through his brain.
Misfit. Broken. Girl. She.
Virgil knew he shouldn’t let anyone's words affect him but he couldn't help it. It seemed everyone was against him. His chest felt to tight, to big. His body felt to wrong but no one seemed to get it. Who he was was once again a debate. Virgil curled deeper into his hoodie.
People debating about what bathroom he should be allowed to use. People arguing if he is allowed to be himself. He thought he might get used to it but here he was upset over it all. A sob broke through and Virgil quickly covered his mouth to cover up the noise and then proceeded to wipe away the few tears that fell.
He knew he was correct about who he is but, the whole world seemed against him. It seemed like every step forward came with two steps back. It felt like every moment and step he took to be himself just painted a bigger target. Something for people to gawk at and go after with harsh words and gestures. Virgil was starting to feel like being himself wasn't worth it anymore. That's when the floodgates opened and Virgil started to cry.
As soon as the tears were free falling Virgil's door opened.
“What's wrong, Virge?” Patton asked.
Virgil only started to cry more.
“Let’s take a few deep breaths.”
Virgil breathed in and out following Patton's lead and after a few minutes Virgil was calmed down.
“I'm just tired of people arguing about MY rights and if I should be allowed to exist.” Virgil stated,trying not to start crying again.
“Virgil, look at me.” Patton stated, then proceeding to wait for Virgil to look at him before he continued. “You are valid. You are you and have every right to be. No one gets to say who you are but you. People may try to break you down and take everything from you but they can’t because you will still have your friends who will do anything for you. You will still be you and no one will take those things from you. One day you will be happy and be able to do anything you wanted.”
Virgil say sniffling, tears running down his face and as soon as Patton was done talking wrapped his arms around the other man. | a3fdfeee215b45508c3884f5e36bbc9b | ['fc91126db76d4f1ba25d017801a5901d'] | I Forgot You Used To Like This Stuff
Sure cleaning was not Virgil’s favorite thing to do but sometimes it had to be done. It was also just unfair to let his boyfriend back up all the stuff from his old apartment, especially when said boyfriend was planning to move in with him. Virgil picked up yet another box from his boyfriend’s attic and opened it up to see what old memories could be hiding in the box. As soon as he saw the boxes contents, a laugh slipped out of his lips. He did not regret helping out anymore.
Remy looked over at his boyfriend and the box, before starting to walk over. “Whatcha find babe?”
Virgil pulled off his hoodie and set it on top of one of the closed dusty boxes before pulling his find out of the box. Remy let out a laugh as Virgil pulled out his studded leather jacket and slid it on. The jacket was a little oversized and smelled like the dusty attic but it brought back lots of memories from when the two first met.
“I knew you in high school and still, I can’t believe you used to like this stuff, Rems.”
“I’d like to think I had a glow up, hon.” Remy jokes, poking at one of the spikes.
“Didn’t you wear this at the same time you spiked your hair into a mohawk?” Virgil asked, the teasing obvious in his voice.
“Oh god,” Remy exclaimed, “I’d much rather forget about that part in my life.”
Virgil frowned for a moment before forcing a smile on his face as he silently pulled off the jacket, as a cold air drifted into the room.
“What’s wrong, babe?” Remy asked, placing his hand on Virgil’s shoulder.
Virgil sighed. “It’s just… we met while you were wearing this kind of stuff and if you’d want to forget it all… wouldn’t that mean you’d also wanna forget about me?”
“Oh, gurl, “Remy replied, putting his arms around Virgil. “I would give up drinking Starbucks before I’d wish to forget about you.”
Virgil laughed before burying his face into the leather of his boyfriend’s jacket. |
34a7f11681cf489facc8c1f6e4efa227 | ['fc9b7060e5644f5d8f1e3faa63f573c5'] | The lengend of Elder: Breath of the retired
The great warrior known as the mighty Zelda... I mean Link, yes the mighty Link, who travelled from the forest to the deepest of temples and the highest of towers. He heroically defeated the villainous Ganondorf Dragmire multiple times, each battle be more dramatic than the last. He started he adventure as a child, the first step of how he learned to be a true hero, until he became an adult, where he unlocked his full potential, with the master sword he held with pride, the adventure still continues as he reached a new age.
"ohhh..." Link raised from his slumber, where water surrounded his body, pure and suttle in it's flow. Link sat by the end of this stone bed and lifted his arms to see his hands. They have aged from his adult days and his body has weaken from the strength and agility he use to proses. He grounded in a warn-out tone "ah, my back, it's soaking wet" with his back dripping the water back into the water he lied in, followed with a irritating pain that strained the back of Link "it feels like a was laying on stone for years, oh wait, I was". He raised to his feet, his legs shaking from his weaker body, with his posture slumped, he seeked for an exit, but none was found. "what's this sad design, all the other temples and dungeons where at-least possible to leave" he seeked more and found a tablet... "What the hell is this hunk of junk" lifting it with one hand, letting it hang down, he analysed it closely "what the..." The tablet suddenly began to glow around the edge, "holy fairy crap!" Link dropped it and stepped back, a large slab of stone began to rise, opening a path Link can venture, Link's shoulders slumped and he groaned "What the hells this" he turned his head back down to the tablet, then leaned over, grabbing it, then walked through the opening to a new adventure... | a5cbade0cf974d629a95893c43f14d1f | ['fc9b7060e5644f5d8f1e3faa63f573c5'] | 1. The rise of the Dagon-born
Rising from his slumber, a dragon born is awakening. Legends told of a warrior that roams in the mortal realm, one that can speak the language of the great dragons that taught the lands of Skyrim. A warrior that can shout at the skys to change the course of the winds, to ground these beasts of the skys that will call dragons and to open the portal to the others worlds that no master of magic, or empiror of Dawnstar can open...
It's time for him to awake...
He raised dazed from the wooden flooring of the Whiterun inn, with his beverage grasped in his right-hand, his left-hand weilding a cooked elk leg, that was being ragged at by a random dog, pulling Danny's arm around. With the dog desperate to have it, Danny rised sluggishly, barely standing straight. dropping his beverage to his right to grab on the counter. The dog to his left still pulling at his elk leg, putting him off balance, so he turned and pulled the leg out of the dog's vicious jaws and slapped it on it's nose. The dog jerked it's head back in shock and walked out the inn's front door that was barely open with it's tail between it's back legs, chewing the last morsel of meat in it's mouth. Danny undazed by it's pity, stretched his arms wide-out, then adjusted his glasses and lifted the elk leg to his mouth to take a bite, but stopped. Seeing the Slavia from that mutt slowly flowing on the surface of the flesh, dripping onto the floor. he thrown it to the ground, the dog scuttered back in, grabbed the meat and ran back out opening the door wider. The sun-light from the early morning sun came and showered through the door, blinding Danny, as he muttered "ah shit!" covered his eyes with his hand. He made his way to the door stumbling along the way and collapsed at the door, missing the door frame, that he tried to push himself back up from, then just lied there. A few of the local town-folk just stared at him. He lied on the floor for almost a minute. A boy came along and poked him with his wooden sword, then again and again getting more aggressive every poke to try and get him up, until he just hit him hard across his head, making Danny release a violent curse, dragged himself up, snatched the sword from the child and wacked the little shit across the face.
The gods above began to question their choice on this warrior, on being the Dragon-born, but their just gonna roll with it (who gives a shit).
A guard marched toward Danny and questioned him "What is your presence doing in Whiterun, in this terrible state?" pausing for just accouple of seconds, Analysed Danny to see his shirt ripped, buttons unfastened and one of his leather boots just gone "Well then?" Danny lifted his finger and spoke "well officer" "officer!?" he replied confused and insulted "yes" releasing a subtle belch and continued "I took that mushroom stuff from that potion shop over there" then pointed at 'Arcadia's Cauldron' "I got shit-faced and probably lost my virginity, so good day sir" He tried to walk pass him, but his lifted his arm and replied "Ok, well sir..." "Devito" Danny confidently said "Ok, Devito, I'll have to take your presence to behind the iron bars for being a thief and for insulting a Whiterun guard with the name 'officer'" Danny looked down and then puppy-eyed the guard "do I get booze?"... "no".
2. Shackles without Boozes
Well The dragon-born may be behind the iron bars of Whiterun, the story is still free to be told and the scroll can still be written...
"Here you go, Danny" the guard told Danny, having a hint of spite in his voice whilst he uttered his name "Don't worry Danny, you shall be accompanied with Daro'aaj-Dar the khajiit, who's fate has also taken him behind these very bars". The guard unlocked the gate to the cell and pushed Danny through, slamming the gate as he just passed, locking it fast, then just walked away... (still in process) |
070bfaf641014685afd9ccd44901e567 | ['fcbf024c97b5454f9bf46e2dec81d5e0'] | “I’m late for...s-something.” Andrew cringes. There’s no way Steven wouldn’t see through his poor attempt at a lie. Fuck, he’ll worry about that later. “I— I need to. I...gotta go.”
He mutters an apology as he brushes past Steven, tendrils of Steven’s magic clinging to the material of his jacket.
“Wait, I--”
Glancing back, he feels a pang of guilt at Steven’s beautiful face scrunched up in confusion. He is so, _so_ screwed.
“Bye,” Steven sighs, his hand still hovering in the air where Andrew had been.
Universe, 1. Andrew, 0.
* * *
Thankfully, though his scent still clings to the hallway and probably Andrew’s apartment, Steven is nowhere to be found when Andrew returns a few hours (and a couple pints of blood) later.
The only sounds coming from inside Steven’s apartment are the gentle hum of the protective runes Steven magicked onto the door and the occasional meow.
His attraction to Steven, his desire for him, was _dangerous._ For both of them. It had been decades since he’d felt this kind of connection to someone. Andrew had been alone for so long, since becoming a vampire. Too afraid to love someone and have to watch them die. He found it easier to hold himself back and after a few centuries, love and attraction were things that didn’t even cross his mind anymore.
But there was something about Steven.
Andrew slinks down the hallway to find there’s a small post-it note stuck to his door. It’s written in glittery pink gel pen.
* * *
Andrew —
Sorry about earlier. I’m having a housewarming party tomorrow night if you wanna come. I promise I don’t bite. ;) — SL
* * *
Andrew crumples the note, tossing it into his kitchen trash can when he gets inside. Being in Steven’s apartment would be almost unbearable.
God, he felt like Edward Cullen. It was fucking embarrassing. He aspired to be at least as cool as Dracula. Hell, he’d even settle for Lestat.
Feeling pretty sorry for himself, Andrew opens a bottle of merlot and pours himself a generous glass. He takes a sip, savoring the bold notes of cedar, smoke, and plum blended with a more subtle taste of chocolate.
He’s laying on the couch, finishing his second glass of wine and half paying attention to something on the History Channel (Vikings, maybe?) when he feels Steven come home. His magic flooding through the walls within seconds, wrapping around Andrew like a blanket, seeping into his skin and making him feel warm.
In all the years Andrew has lived, he’s never met a witch that possessed the kind of power Steven must have. Andrew couldn’t help but think about what it would be like to _taste_ that power.
Logically, Andrew knew it was crazy. They had only just met but Steven woke up a part of him he had forgotten. He made Andrew _want_ things again.
Things like love, companionship, to be bonded.
Andrew pours himself a third glass, hoping to wake with the foolish notion that Steven could even _like_ him gone from his mind and heads to bed. Tries to anyway, sleep doesn’t come easily. He wakes in fits and starts, his dreams trying to claw their way out into reality.
( _Steven sits on a deep red blanket in a small clearing in the middle of a field of beautiful white lilies. The sunlight shines through his lavender hair, making it shimmer. A circle of garnets, moonstone, and citrine surround him._
_Steven jumps to his feet, closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye. “You came! I didn’t think you would.”_
_His eyes are mesmerizing, the same silver as his pentacle necklace. Andrew can’t look away from their swirling depths. A huge strawberry, almost the size of his palm, appears in Steven’s hand, the one that hasn't slipped into Andrew’s. “Here. Have a taste.”_
_He holds the strawberry up to Andrew’s lips. “Take a bite, Andrew. I know you want to.”_
_Andrew closes his eyes and parts his lips, letting Steven press the tip of the strawberry into his mouth. He sinks his teeth into the flesh of the berry, juice exploding on his tongue and sliding down his throat._
_“Do you want more?” Steven murmurs, sounding very far away._
_“Yes.” Andrew reaches out for him, but his hands only find empty space._
_Steven’s fingers slide up into his hair, his breath ghosting over Andrew’s lips in a way that feels almost like a kiss. “I’m here, sweetheart.”_
_Andrew opens his eyes and they’re in his bed. They’ve lost their clothes in the shift and Andrew can feel every glorious inch of Steven’s warm skin against his own._
_Looking at Steven is almost blinding, but Andrew never wants to look away. His skin glows and sparkles against the black silk sheets, like starlight._
_“You can touch me. I’m_ yours _.”_
_Andrew’s vision seems to tunnel until all he can see are two small punctures on Steven’s neck, so fresh that blood is still welling on the surface._
_“This isn’t real,” Andrew says even as his mouth waters with the desire to taste. “It can’t be.”_
_“Don’t you want it to be?” Steven whispers, pulling Andrew’s head into the crook of his neck. “Take what you want from me.”_
_“_ Yes. _Please.”_
_Andrew drags his tongue across his bite, groaning softly at the taste. The taste is like rich red wine, like... ambrosia. He wants more. He wants everything Steven will give him. He wants to touch and taste and take until they’re both satisfied._
_“Drink.”_
_He sinks his teeth back into Steven’s neck, his moan like the most beautiful music Andrew has ever heard. It’s not a sound he will soon forget._
_“I will always be yours, Andrew.” )_ | fe047e8f345548da80831cdd56968c55 | ['fcbf024c97b5454f9bf46e2dec81d5e0'] | A sharp knock on the door cuts through the silence, like a knife through butter. Adam’s voice is muffled by the heavy metal door but he can just make out the words, “You guys up? Annie wants breakfast before we fly out.”
Steven looks away from Andrew, picking at a thread of the sheet pooled around his waist. “Yeah, Adam. We’ll be down in the lobby in fifteen minutes, okay?”
Adam mumbles something that is probably agreement and Andrew listens as his footsteps retreat down the hallway until all Andrew can hear is the beating of his own heart, the full weight of what has happened hitting him like a freight train.
His dream. What this means for his friendship with Steven. What it means for the show and, if he’s fucked up the show, Adam and Annie. Fuck you, Dream Matrix ™ .
Steven opens his mouth like he’s about to speak, ask about the dream again, but Andrew doesn’t think he can handle whatever he’s about to say. “I’m gonna jump in the shower. I’ll meet you downstairs,” Andrew says just as Steven says his name. He springs out of bed and doesn’t look back to see Steven’s face fall.
* * *
Andrew wants to sleep on the flight home. Between the alcohol and the dreams, he doesn’t feel like he got nearly enough of it. His eyelids feel impossibly heavy, even with two cups of coffee in his system, and if it wasn’t for Steven and the Dream Matrix™, Andrew doesn’t think he’d be able to fight closing his eyes and sleeping for the next century.
However, Steven _is_ asleep, slumped against Andrew’s side, the seat divider folded up between them out of habit. Steven is almost unbearably warm and it’s only made worse by his breath ghosting over the side of Andrew’s throat and his hair tickling his face. It’s what Andrew imagines being in bed with Steven would be like and that’s definitely not a road he should be going down. Not now. Not ever.
Just a few more days and Steven will be back in New York. Then Andrew only has to see him in his dreams. (The irony that that’s what got him into this in the first place isn’t lost on Andrew.)
Steven shifts impossibly closer, his nose brushing Andrew’s jaw, his lips curving into a soft smile. Andrew wonders, if he allowed himself to fall asleep, would he be able to see what was putting that look on Steven's face?
It was just as rare as one of them being aware, but sometimes Andrew would fall asleep only to be instantly thrust into the middle of one of Steven’s dreams. Maybe there was something to the whoever falls asleep first theory. Realistically though, he’s fairly sure the universe is just fucking with him.
As Andrew’s thoughts drift, so does Andrew’s resolve to stay awake. Maybe this dream thing is a nighttime only kind of thing. It’s not like they’ve ever tested it.
(Steven, ever the scientist, had done his best to convince Andrew to do just one experiment on more than one occasion.)
Andrew lets his eyes close, so tired that Steven’s dream is just on the fringe of his consciousness. He reaches out to touch and -- Steven’s mind is moving at hyperspeed. _Andrew at the airport the morning Steven left. Los Angeles. Playing basketball with Ryan. Zach at his desk. Wellington asleep on Andrew’s chest, a long fingered hand scratching under her chin. Andrew is asleep too, his blond hair sticking in a million different directions._
The plane hits a pocket of turbulence, just enough to wake Andrew from his light sleep and shift Steven off Andrew’s shoulder, his soft whine filling the space between them.
Experiment completed, not just a nighttime thing. When the flight attendant passes, Andrew requests what he expects is his new best friend: coffee.
* * *
Steven tries to talk to him when they land, _and_ when they meet at BuzzFeed the next morning, _and_ when they reach The Oinkster, _and_ while Adam and Annie are setting up shots in the kitchen.
The thing is, Andrew doesn’t want to talk about it. Not now. Possibly not ever, if he can help it. He knows Steven would do his absolute best to try and not hurt Andrew, to let him down easy, but it’s still rejection. Rejection sucks.
The way Andrew sees it, if they don’t talk about it, then it’s just a dream. Nothing has to change. ( _If you don’t ruin your friendship by ignoring him off camera_ , his mind supplies.) He’ll put his feelings inside a box, behind a door covered with caution tape until he can forget about them.
Thankfully, years of practice and natural chemistry that comes with great friendship has filming run smoothly. They eat delicious pastrami at an absurdly small table. It’s almost normal. Except Andrew is _hyper aware_ of Steven’s every movement, every brush of Steven’s leg against his own, every time Steven bumps their hands together. It’s beautiful, painful torture. How had Andrew been so unaware for so long? Maybe the box, door, caution tape plan wasn’t going to work.
The kicker though, is when Steven offers him a bite of his lemon bar, holding it out to him on his fork. “Isn’t it time somebody feeds you?” Steven jokes.
The camera isn’t even running. Andrew should definitely point that out.
His lips part under the tines of Steven’s fork, eyes briefly closing in delight. Steven was right - the lemon bar is amazing. Crisp and sweet. It reminds him of the Lemon Coolers he used to eat as a child.
Maybe it’s the nostalgia, but Andrew thinks everything’s going to be okay. At least, until Steven gets up to use the bathroom and Annie slides into his place. “Dude, what’s your problem?” she asks. “You’re being super weird. Whoever edits this episode is going to _hate_ you.” |
652689d022b648e38176514e1f51a53c | ['fce9f09c003f4a05b0110d79acf079a8'] | “oh! Think of Adobe's voice replication software, what if we program the earpiece to listen to the user when they do speak out loud. It'll learn their voice and transmit it when they think”
****
I can't help but think of the aliens that replicated my voice and shudder.
****
“what if the wearer only puts it in in battle and it doesn't have time to recognise their voice?” the bald man asks.
****
“then they should wear it for a day when they first receive it and all owners should have a personal pair” Tony replies.
****
“and even if they don't have time the device can work off of a few words and make the closest it can to the voice. It doesn't have to be spot on as long as it's recognisable” I add.
****
“exactly,” Tony offers an approving smile, “okay Joseph run to tech and tell them the update”
****
Giacometti falters, like he wants to object, probably to say that's my job, because it sounds like it should be my job. He decides against it, instead nodding and leaving the room.
****
“Alright Strange what will you do with the rest of your team?” Tony eyes me expectantly. A test.
****
“we need to seriously up the decipher speed. I want some of you on that. The rest keep running tests to make sure we have reliable evidence that the AI translates right”
****
“he'll leave you to it” Tony finishes, gesturing for me to exit the lab with him.
“what are you doing here?” I ask him once we're back into the fully lit research area. I realise that sounds a little rude.
****
“I knew the test was scheduled now and wanted to have a look”
****
“oh” I nod along as we walk.
****
“what happened to…” he gestures at his temple and I realise after a second he's talking about my cut.
****
“Oh you know, there's always a thug around a corner waiting to take your wallet in New York” I shrug, looking straight ahead.
****
“did he get it?”
****
“nope I fought him off”
****
“that's dangerous Stephen” I look at him and he's not kidding.
****
“I'm shocked you of all people would say that”
****
“well I know that if I weren't Iron Man that would be dangerous for me”
****
“really?” I raise a disbelieving eyebrow. He's not helpless without a suit, he can't be, he wouldn't have survived this long.
****
“No,” he laughs, “I’ve spared with Black Widow I think I'd be fine”
****
I tap my office door and expect him to say his goodbyes but instead he follows me in, taking a seat on one of my white guest chairs. No problem with that. “seriously are you okay? Do you get into situations like that often?”
****
“not too much. How are you?” I ask to change the conversation, then realise it sounds to friendly and it may be out of line, “I mean it's none of my business-”
****
“well… I had a date last night and I definitely looked like an idiot” he sighs, bumping the back of his head against the glass behind him and shutting his eyes.
****
“you? An idiot?” I deadpan, sitting on the edge of my desk where Tony was the last time we spoke.
****
“she's really smart and screwed on” he argues in a mumble.
****
“still”
****
“despite what you think I'm not the most intelligent being in the world”
****
“oh no everything I've learned is a lie” I declare dramatically.
****
“I'm just so famous” he groans, not seeming to be joking at all.
****
“oh that's terrible” I burst out laughing. What kind of complaint is that?
****
“Hey don't laugh. Did you know I'm actually not the richest man on earth?” he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and smiling despite telling me not to show amusement.
****
“no?” now that does surprise me more. Tony's always at the top of every rich list, Forbes richest every year without fail.
****
“I'm _ friends _ with the richest man on earth. The only difference is that the world doesn't know him. Everyone knows my name, my face”
****
“do you ever get fed up of being seen as the best and the most?”
****
“at times, but the amount of people that think I'm pure trash balances me out” he admits.
****
“that's extreme, I mean I imagined you'd be an asshole before I met you but pure trash is a bit much”
****
“did you really?” he laughs a little, not seeming hurt at all.
****
“well… obviously I think you're brilliant and usually when people are too good to be true there's something wrong. You seem perfectly nice though”
****
“brilliant? Well thank you Stephen I'm flattered” he leans back again, resting one arm over the back of the empty chair next to him. His t shirt rides just a little, showing a thin strip of skin, and I'm too busy debating how built he is under his clothes to feel embarrassed at the blatant compliment I just gave him. Is there nothing? Is he toned? Or maybe he's really defined.
****
_ You have a girlfriend Stephen. Stop it. _
****
“but don't be too relieved. There are a lot of things about me that aren't brilliant or nice”
****
“don't we all have an ugly side?” I reach behind me for a half full water bottle I left here my first day and take a drink.
****
“I ain't think you need to worry too much. Every angle I've seen you from is very much not ugly” Again, that gaze so heavy it could sink a ship.
****
“so the woman? Are you going to see her again?” I ask, hasty to overlook that as if it'll make me go any less pink or choke any less on water. | 286722949eab47f9bcf6727631bda47c | ['fce9f09c003f4a05b0110d79acf079a8'] | I slowly rise from my chair and manage to follow after him. I feel like a slug, dragging my lifeless body around.
****
“you see I wanted a meeting with you but Tony said he'd take it instead”
****
“I'm getting fired aren't I?”
****
“slow down man, I can't speak for Stark but I'm not planning to fire you, we need to know what's going on” he explains as we slide into the elevator. He swipes a black card with ‘guest’ written on it with block white capitals and calls for the 91st floor.
****
“I… It's all a mess” I sigh, my shoulders sagging even further.
****
“gather your thoughts and save it for Tony”
****
Tony. I yelled at him when he was just trying to protect me. I should have understood, I do understand, I've seen people die and I've seen people hurt. He's seen more. It makes every moment of life a threat. And now he's called a meeting to fire me, because I'm too thick to have understood him when I had the chance.
****
We step out the elevator and it's right there, Tony's office, only a few feet away. It's like mine, glass walls, green plants, wooden furniture, except a million times bigger. And Tony's in there, sat at his desk staring intently at his black laptop. When we get closer I notice he's chewing on the end of a pen.
****
“you'll be fine” Joseph squeezes my shoulder before knocking on Tony's glass door for me. He looks up and it opens automatically.
****
Joseph walks off and leaves me. Traitor.
****
“hey” Tony says as I hesitantly step in, he sounds like he's trying not to break me with how soft his tone is, “sit”
****
I take a seat in the chair on the other side of his desk and at the same moment he stands, circling his own chair and gripping the back of it. The view outside his office is more amazing than mine, the pale blue sky continues endlessly behind him, featuring outline of Manhattan and the bluer ocean around it.
****
“The reason I asked to take this meeting is because I didn't think you'd want to talk to me voluntarily and I need to apologise for my behaviour”
****
That surprises me. I was clearly in the wrong. “you don't”
****
“Yes I do. I was overstepping” he insists.
****
“I was being rash Tony, I know you were just genuinely concerned, so I'm sorry” As simple as that, we smile at one another and all the bad air is blown out the window. Miracles are real.
****
“what happened to your face?” he asks.
****
“I, um, what's this meeting for?” How do I explain being attacked by a ninja monkey from a reality where ninja monkeys are a thing?
****
He eyes me up suspiciously but takes my bait, “I'm told that you often have to leave work for ‘emergencies’”
****
“Yes and I apologise, I always catch up with what I miss”
****
“We value transparency here, it helps our relationship as workers, so if you don't mind could you tell my why you have emergencies?” he finally sits back in his chair, leaning closer and waiting attentively for my answer. He’s so intense in everything he does.
****
“I…” I don't want to lie to him, he doesn't deserve it.
****
“is it a sick relative? Are you sick yourself? Is it something to do with your cut?”
****
“my friend, he fell down the stairs at work and had a trauma to his head. He's forgotten a lot and sometimes he gets lost or goes on rampages” I explain, to cut off his questions. The excuse is solid enough hopefully. Not living a double life must be nice.
****
“He's all I have and I'm all he has” I add, and I finally feel like I'm talking about Wong, he really is my only friend and he's stuck with me through a lot.
****
“okay thank you for letting me know. I can organise some kind of care for him” there's something empty or systematic about the way he says that, probably because he can tell I’m lying through my teeth.
****
“he didn't want it, I already suggested it, he says he doesn't want to be constantly reminded that he's not well” I feel like an idiot spinning this story.
****
“this is all fine, you're still making your hours and you did say you keep up with the work so you're good”
****
“really? You're not going to punish me?”
****
“what? No. We just needed to know why that was going on” Tony shoots an amused smile, I flash a thankful one back, trying to push the guilt out of it.
****
“thank you” my eyes drift and are caught by a cabinet to the left of the office, it's empty inside but what interests me are the framed pictures placed on its surface.
****
“come take a closer look” Tony springs up and walks to the cabinet with me following behind. “that's Vision” he points at the picture on the far left, it's him and a red skinned man, Tony's arm around him like he had to drag him into the picture. I've seen him, in visions, the stone in his forehead is the mind stone.
****
“I'm one of his four dads. Lucky guy,” he points to the next one, “Bruce Banner and I”
****
I look at the man, who's somehow shorter than Tony, standing next to him in glasses and a lab coat. He looks awkward and his glasses are a little too low down on his face. That's really the Hulk.
**** |
25b7d2f561c942e8bf5e3b022f8466f2 | ['fcf95e406a3649c7a8c74974ecdfd2c9'] | Unfortunately, none of us could stay past the long weekend; family, home, work, and responsibilities called us back to DC. On the flight home LJ had shown us the design he sketched for the memorial. Everyone gave him the thumbs up. LJ found a stone cutter near Tel Aviv to make the design we wanted.
~TIVA~
Uncle Tim passed in his sleep on 15 October 2068, one month shy of his ninety first birthday. The last of the Gibbs kids had passed, marking the end of an era. Katie and John found four large tote boxes of pictures, flash drives, and notes in Uncle Tim's handwriting about the NCIS years and how he helped Abba in the search for Ima in 2016. He also had some pictures and videos of me, with Abba, and then with Abba and Ima from the year in Paris. From his notes, I learned just how strong the bond was of the brothers, Abba and Uncle Tim.
A day after Uncle Tim's funeral, LJ had an email from the stone mason in Tel Aviv. The marker was complete and ready for delivery. LJ arranged to have it placed in the olive grove, giving the precise measurements to the spot where we wanted it to be placed.
Ima's birthday is on another long weekend this year, so we arranged a trip for as many family members as could come to fly to Tel Aviv and visit the marker on Ima's birthday. LJ and Savannah, Beth and Charles, Rivka and John, Anthony and Katie, Chaim and I plus Levi, Anthony (IV), Noah and Adam flew to Tel Aviv on 9 November.
We are all staying in the farmhouse. We have just returned from the marker and dedicating it to Ima and Abba's memory. The stone mason had used a laser to put the portrait of Ima and Abba in the "TIVA-land" pose on the stone. Their definition of soul mates was etched on the other side with the dates each lived. Walking to the marker, we were animated and chatting, full of anticipation at seeing the beautiful marker itself instead of a picture. Coming back to the house, everyone was silent, reflecting on the lives of our parents, or grandparents, and the special bond that they had.
Writing this story of my Ima and Abba and the love they shared has been cathartic for me. It has helped me grieve for my parents and, at the same time, given me insight into the truly special, wonderful, beautiful, and unique bond they shared. Their love transcends time, space, and life itself.
I love you Ima; I love you Abba. See you on the flip side!
_Tali's note: 25 December 2068. Anthony has been reading this story of Ima and Abba. He, Anthony (IV), and I have a book deal with Uncle Tim's publisher to turn this story, the original 'Soul Mates' documentary and the in-progress follow up documentary into a book, maybe two books. I hope we can honor the love of Ima and Abba, as well as keep their memory alive for the generations to follow._
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> And so it ends for this story. Thanks to all who have left kudos, commented, bookmarked and just read along as the story was posted. I have lots more stories in this little universe I have created either completed or in progress. Until next story! | 1fbfc1bcdcbc4b82bf454bf76676829d | ['fcf95e406a3649c7a8c74974ecdfd2c9'] | Nettie sat next to her niece and wrapped her arms around the woman, letting her sob it out. She rubbed a hand over Ziva's back to soothe her and made comforting sounds.
"Are you going to tell him?"
"I… I do not know for sure… have to go to doctor first," Ziva stammered out. She didn't want to disrupt Tony's life in DC, especially after sending him away over a month ago. She wasn't ready to go back yet, and if she truly were pregnant, she did not want to run the risk of having his heart broken yet again if she miscarried. Better that he did not know, she thought…
"He deserves to know, Ziva. You need to tell him," Nettie got her opinion in before Ziva shut down the discussion by suggesting that the two go cook the meal together.
Ziva scheduled an appointment with an ob/gyn for the following Monday. Dr. Yael Oppenheim was given high ratings on the website she looked at for possible doctors. She was also affiliated with the hospital closest to the farmhouse, a plus.
On Monday, she arrived a half hour before her appointment to fill out all of the new patient forms and questionnaires. She put her Doda Nettie as her emergency contact. When she got to the medical history section, she hesitated. She realized she had to be honest to get the best medical treatment, but it also opened up many old wounds to have to share some of the incidents from her past. She decided to leave that section blank and told the receptionist that she would explain in more detail to the doctor.
Once Ziva was brought back to the exam area, the tech had her give a urine sample and then change to a hospital gown. She explained that if the test was positive, they would be doing a pelvic exam and a sonogram to confirm the pregnancy. Ziva sat in the exam room and waited for the doctor. She tried to quiet her mind and keep the thoughts that she did not deserve to be a mother from sending her into a downward spiral.
"Hello, Ziva," Dr. Oppenheim entered the room with Ziva's chart and a printed copy of the urine test. "Your test is positive, so I am going to have you lie back and I will do a pelvic exam. Then we will move you to the sonography room and do a vaginal sonogram. It won't hurt at all, and it will give us a picture of your developing baby." Ziva nodded that she understood. She lay down on the exam table and let the doctor palpate her abdomen.
"So what is this about explaining your medical history?"
"It is complicated," Ziva began. "Well, some of it is…"
"Tell me, please."
"Well, I had a miscarriage at twelve weeks back in April of this year in the US," Ziva started off. "I can give you the doctor's information if you need copies of the records."
"Yes, please do," Dr. Oppenheim sensed there was more that Ziva had not told her.
"Before I got pregnant earlier this year, I was told that I could not have children by three other doctors…" Ziva trailed off; talking about Somalia with a stranger was not easy.
"And why was that?" Dr. Oppenheim gently tried to get Ziva to tell the reason.
"I… I… was held… prisoner… in Somalia," Ziva started to tear up, "And I was repeatedly raped by…" Tears fell as she tried to explain.
Dr. Oppenheim took Ziva's hand in hers, "Got it; you do not need to say more unless you want to. What about the father?"
"Same man, both the miscarriage and this pregnancy, but he is out of the picture. He is living and working in the United States."
At the sonography room, the tech explained to Ziva what the procedure involved and how it was different from the ones she had in DC. When the images started appearing on the screen, Dr. Oppenheim pointed to a spot the size of a small blueberry. "There is your baby, Ziva. Based in this image, you are between six and seven weeks pregnant which concurs with the information you gave us that you believe the date of conception to be 30 September."
At that moment one of the doctor's assistants came into the room with a printed out set of pages. "Doctor O., excuse me, I have Ms. David's records here. She was a US Federal Agent, and Bethesda and her doctor from the US sent them quickly." She handed the doctor the papers.
The woman skimmed through the records, reading the notes from April and the follow up in June. "You did not know you were pregnant in the spring, correct?"
"That is correct, we found out at the ER," Ziva had gone into what Tony called her Mossad mode; just the facts with no emotion.
"You sustained injuries in an automobile accident and a fight?"
"Yes." Ziva was worrying that she was going to find out she would not be carrying any baby to term. She looked at the doctor with fear in her eyes, trying not to let it show.
Dr. Oppenheim took Ziva's hand in hers, "Do not be afraid, Ziva. You have a very good chance at a normal pregnancy this time. You came in early, and you have not been injured in any way with this pregnancy. I will do everything I can to get you to term."
Ziva nodded and wiped at her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered.
Ziva left the office about thirty minutes later with a prescription for prenatal vitamins, an appointment for her next regular visit in a month and an appointment for a more detailed sonogram at eleven to twelve weeks. She must have had a deer in the headlights look when the doctor said twelve weeks, as she was quickly reassured that it was routine for checking the growth of the baby and the due date.
Once home, Ziva called her aunt. "Doda, I am…"
"Congratulations, Zivaleh! You will be a fantastic mother," Nettie interrupted her niece's news. She was just excited for Ziva and hoped that the baby would push Ziva into reuniting with Tony. "Did you call him?"
"No, Doda, I am going to wait until after the first trimester. I do not want to get his hopes up and have him hurt again if something happens. Besides, I cannot just disrupt his life with a baby." Ziva sighed. Her aunt would never drop the nagging to call Tony to tell him about his child.
"Ziva, promise me you will tell him," Nettie prodded.
"I cannot, Doda. I cannot make a promise I may not be able to keep." Ziva wiped a tear from her eye as she spoke, glad that Nettie was on the phone and not there in person. The last thing she needed was to have her aunt see her tears. |
3348df46ef294dafa9d3c64965eea503 | ['fcfe961e208c49e4bd22a510885c4f24'] | _”Umm, Alix, the door automatically locked. So, in a way, we’re trapped here.”_
_DUN TUN DAH! DA DA DUN DAH! LOL, I’M LIVING IN YOUR GUYS’ MISERY. UNTIL NEXT TIME!_
8. Chapter 8
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> In school; won’t be too long
_“They planned this all along. That’s why Vanessa and Taylor decided to give me your number, so you could be my knight in shining armor! But, what they don’t know is that we’re stuck here together. Let’s give Vanessa a call and see how she reacts.”_
_”Wow Alix, you’re really feisty. I don’t wanna get on your bad side again.”_
_“Exactly. Oh, and by the way, you can call me Al.”_
_‘WHAT HAS GOTTEN INTO ME! I NEVER LET PEOPLE CALL ME NICKNAMES!’_
_“I guess I really am falling for him.”_
_”Wait, what? Who’re you falling for?”_
_Crap._
9. Chapter 9
“Oh...umm...no one,” I managed to squeak out.
‘Was that disappointment on his face? I decided to lift his thoughts a little bit. Wait, what? I tease people, not help them. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?’
“Brandon really is having an impact on me. This needs to stop. I don’t show emotion, not since-“
”Not since what? I can help.”
”Not since my p-Wait, was I talking out loud? Crap, crap, crap.”
”Yep, and you still are.” Brandon looked like he was trying not to laugh.
I glared at him. He continued.
”Umm...we need to call Vanessa.” He said.
Just then, I (and Brandon, but she don’t know that he got the same thought) got a thought.
”Wait, what if-you go first-no you-fine I’ll go”
I fumed while Brandon went while smirking.
”-What if we play a prank on them?”
Hmm...like my idea. I was starting to think that no one knows the devious side of him, and that I’d find out first.
”What type?”
”Well, we could act as if we were all lovey-dovey with each other, and-“
”Wait, lemme guess. -And pretend to be a couple? Where you be yourself, and I’ll be myself, but both of us can get calmed down by each other.”
We high-fived.
I took out my phone to call Vanessa, while Brandon called Mark.
Vanessa picked up first.
”Hey Ali-WAIT WHAT! WHAT THE HECK! GUYS YA GOTTA SEE THIS!”
10. Chapter 10
”Woah. What happened, sis? You hated Brandon, first, but now you guys like each other? Wait. I need proof. How about you guys kiss, as proof?” That was Mark.
”Give us a sec.”
I muted the phone.
”Brandon, what’ll we do? You know that they’re gonna want proof, but we aren’t actually dating!”
”Or, what if we actually do it?”
Brandon is now officially dead after the call.
”Fine.”
He smirked.
”So, shall we, m’lady?”
”You’re not Shakespeare. Stop acting like him.”
We kissed.
I unmuted it.
They started screaming and yelling “MAH SHIP HAS COME TRUE!”
Wait, hold up. Their ship? Doesn’t that mean that they want two people together? So, they want us together.
Never mind that. They are officially DEAD. NOW.
Brandon, sensing my thoughts, said, ”Alix, calm. Be calm. We can kill them later.”
I smirked while Brandon snickered at their faces.
”Now, how do we escape, Vanessa?”
”Umm.....the thing is, you can’t. Not until we come.” She showed me the key. Seeing our faces, she hurriedly wished us bye.
”What do we do now?”
11. Chapter 11
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Look at my Hero vs. Villain story to understand this part. Comment if you can guess who Elementai is!
>
> Ohhh...nvm.........it doesn't relate. Just comment tho!
_"Jump off the roof, duh."_
_"Wait, seriously? Fun! Ladies first."_
_Gods, this boy is dense. The denser you are, the easier you are to tease!_
_"Coward, much?"_
_"No, not really. I can prove that I'm not a coward."_
_With that, he jumped off the building._
_I heard a thump and decided to check._
_I saw Brandon land on the lower patio, and I decided to try._
_I jumped, and landed halfway on Brandon._
_"OOF! Oh, you're really light!"
_
_With that, he carried me around, while humming a song._
_"Hey, what song are you humming?"_
_"I'm Ready. It's by AJR."_ | de7b2c89c72a495b9baadd8e7c42eb93 | ['fcfe961e208c49e4bd22a510885c4f24'] |
1. Intro
**Author's Note:**
> Alix Chase in miraculous ladybug
_Hi. I am Alix Chase. An ordinary tomboy teen with an extraordinarily awesome life. I am mainly lonely, but also nice. I love books about myths and fanfics, and adventures, whether in real life or on screen or in a book. My life was boring, until one day..._
_Bye, my butterflies and moths!! Please wait patiently for any of my stories to get updated!!_
2. Chapter 2
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> All the characters and who they look like to make all our lives easier
_Brandon Hampshire- Like Adrien Agreste_
_Vanessa Hepburn- Like Chloe Bourgeois_
_Alix Chase- Like Marinette Dupain-Cheng in looks_
_Taylor Montgomery- Like Alya Cesaire_
_Julian Lake- Like Nino Lahiffe_
_Mark Finnigan- Like Nathaniel Kutzberg_
_The rest of the miraculous characters I include will have the same name, looks, and personalities of the actual characters. Sorry, I’m just too lazy. Bye, my butterflies and moths!!_
3. First Chapter continued
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Brandon=Adrien
> Vanessa=Chloe
> Alix(Yours Truly!)=Marinette
> Taylor=Alya
> Julian=Nino
> Mark=Nathaniel
> Madison=Lila dat LIAR
> Everyone else is the same, remember!
_Time skip_
_It was the second day of 6th grade. I woke up and then looked at the alarm clock. The time was 7:15 AM. ‘Oh no! I’m late as usual!’ I then got dressed with my usual clothes:a blue T-shirt with a white ‘DON’T COME IN MY WAY, OR ELSE...’ sign on it, and black leggings. I also had white shoes, a white and blue headband, and a Trans Jansport bag on. I ate breakfast, waved to my parents, and then sprinted to school. I barely made it on time. I saw a new student spilling chocolate pudding all over my usual spot._
_“What do you think you’re doing, huh” I asked._
_“No, wait, I was trying to clean up..”_
_“Really? That’s what every servant of Vanessa says. Why should I believe you?”_ _I asked._
_“Uhh, I..”_
_“I knew it! Just go to whatever dump you came from.”_
_The boy fumed but nevertheless went back to his seat, and I went to go sit with my friend, Taylor._
_“Girl, what happened over there? You’re fuming!”_
_“Ugh, I really wish that I never see Vanessa or her minions again. EVER AGAIN!”_
_Brandon’s POV_
_“Julian, what should I do? You know that I didn’t do it, and even if I had done it, never on purpose! That girl will never believe me, though. That’s how she’s acting.”_
_“I dunno, dude. You should tell her, ya know? I mean, what’s the harm in that?”_
_“...Ok, fine. I’ll try.”_
_I will make her fall for me. I smirked._
_Alix’s POV_
_‘The nerve, of him! I anyways had to deal with this crap from Vanessa all my life, now she has another helper!’_
_“ Al, hello? You there? You spaced out on me!”_
_“Oh sorry, what d’yu say, Tay? I....erm....spaced out like usual.”_
_“Of course you did! Anyways, he looked really familiar, so I decided to do a bit of research on him. So, guess what I found!”_
_By then, Taylor was practically jumping in her seat. It was so loud that the teacher gave us a warning._
_“I understand yesterday was practically summer vacation, so I understand, but please, continue at lunch, kay?”_
_“Yes, Miss Hummingbird” we chorused._
_After her back was turned once again, Taylor continued, whispering, “The boy that....ahem....spilled chocolate pudding all over your spot is none other than the famous Brandon Hampshire!”_
_“Really? I wonder where he got his personality from? I know that it doesn’t come from his parents, cuz they’re really nice people. Maybe Vanessa?”_
_Brandon, whom overheard this conversation, whispered in a sad and angry tone, “Maybe you should hear me out before you make such harsh decisions about what I’m like.”_
_‘Oh my god, did he just eavesdrop on our conversation? That nerve!’_
_“Isn’t eavesdropping on someone’s PRIVATE conversation bad?”_
_“It wasn’t bad, especially since you were talking about me behind my back!”_
_“Whatever, Mr. Model. Like I care.”_
_After everyone processed what I said, the room went silent._
_“Wait, what? You’re the famous model, named Brandon Hampshire? Are you serious!”_
_“OMG, can I get your autograph! Like, you’re so good at modeling.”_
_“Can you marry me?”_
_“NO, HE’S MINE!” That voice belonged to Vanessa._
_“BACK OFF, YOU PEASANTS! HE BELONGS TO ME, AND ONLY ME!”_
_Like the ending? I’ll try to update all my stories more often, but no promises! Bye, my little butterflies and moths!! And thanks for being patient on all my stories!! ADIOO!_
_Ps: Miss Hummingbird is still trying to quiet down the kids! LOL_
4. Chapter 4
_Hey guys!! I’m gonna only update a bit due to a class and homework!!_
_Alix’s POV_
_”That nerve! He thinks he actually has a right to eavesdrop on our conversation?”_
_“Well, he does have a good point, Alix. You”_
_“We”_
_“ were technically gossiping”_
_“Talking”_
_“-about him, so he has every right to listen and interrupt us.”_
_Come on, now she’s siding with him? Though, seeing the look on her face, I realized that she was correct, so I wisely didn’t comment._
_Brandon’s POV_
_Oh my gosh, she first assumes without facts that I’m a snob or whatever she called Vanessa, she then insults both of us, and then she reveals who I am, leaving me no choice but to flee to the boys bathroom! I mean, I’m not that mad about the whole situation ‘cause I kinda understand why she would think that, but I do wish that the crowd would die down. It would be exciting to have a model or whatever in your school, but wont it get tiring after a while?_
_Time Skip_
_I now foolishly realize that I was wrong. Whoops!_
5. Chapter 5
_Kay, I have school, so I’ll try to update if I can. Thanx for waiting mah b’s and m’s!!_
6. Chapter 6 |
065498ebb35a41b1a92a48f4b621c4c9 | ['fd0bed22c56c4af8a42e675df87f95b2'] |
when all you have left is the past
**Author's Note:**
> Based off of a post from tumblr: "Imagine Elyza, Alicia and Alicia’s family running away from the walkers but then shit happens and they are trying to kill the Walkers and Chris falls down and grabs a gun and takes several shots at a walker except for one bullet that doesn’t hit the walker and it hits Alicia in the stomach instead..."
**~ one ~**
Elyza couldn’t really pinpoint it exactly when it had first started, but she knew in her heart that Alicia special. She didn't need a vision or a flashback or a whatever to confirm that. Something in her warmed at the way Alicia had first smiled at her, with her lips stretched in a wide grin to a genuine and kind smile had sent her butterflies in her stomach. She had nodded with a small smile as Alicia held her gaze over her mother's shoulders in a tight hug. Elyza had stepped away and shuffled awkwardly, feeling a bit intruding before her gaze had caught Alicia’s. And it had been then that Elyza had decided.
Alicia's smile was bright and disarming, and having it directed at her, all Elyza could see was that blinding smile - every day, for the rest of her life. She wanted to wake up to that smile, glance beside her and be met with that smile. That smile was familiar and yet so different, so free. She could remember faintly tracing tattoos and waking up in a bed that smelled of flowers and earthly essence. She could feel the rhythm of riding a horse in daylight, with that smile directed at her. But no. No, she couldn't think of her that way. She shakes her head, banishing the invasive thoughts from her mind, embarrassed that she had let herself imagine _that_ with a girl she barely knew, but everything about her seemed so familiar and all she could feel was a sad type of longing.
**~ two ~**
The second time had been in the middle of the night. They’d been separated from Alicia’s family once again, and in their haste to find shelter, had found another group wandering aimlessly. A closer inspection had revealed that the group, a former gang by the looks of it, had come from their set up at an old and dilapidated Wal-Mart that had been overrun by the walkers. They hadn't been as welcoming as she had hoped, but Alicia had managed to strike a deal with their leader, a hot headed raven haired boy, who had kept his finger on the trigger of his rifle during their discussion. She had an uneasy feeling about him, but had left it to the back of her mind, focusing solely on protecting Alicia and keeping her in one piece.
They had been given a copy of their map and told to stay out of their way and left abruptly, but not before Elyza could manage to sweet talk one of the girls into lending them supplies. That had turned into an entirely different argument, one that had ended with a place for them stay. For the night at least.
Alicia volunteered for scouting while Elyza set up their camp, and she couldn't help the pride that she felt as she watched Alicia shake off one of the other's hands from her shoulder. The girl had come a long way from how Elyza had found her and had surprisingly adapted well enough with her bat and agility to successfully survive. Not that Elyza would tell that to her face, but she couldn't help but be proud. After a few hours of queit, Alicia had come back from scouting, alone and determined, and had pulled her aside with an urgent look.
“We’re running out of supplies,” She uttered as discreetly as she could, worry lines on her forehead, “and they’re coming - a horde of them, they’re gathered there-.”
“Fine. Let’s go, pack your things - we’re leaving,” Elyza interrupted her quietly and she moved to grab her AK, hoping to steal some ammo on the way out. Alicia’s hand held her back however and she faced Alicia with a firm frown. “Let’s go Clark, we need to move.”
“No, we have to stay and warn them,” She pleaded, and once again, an overwhelming familiarity passed over Elyza and she closed her eyes in a silent moment. She could see green eyes piercing through, a dark cloak, and candles everywhere. Shaking her head, she opened them to find green eyes reminiscent of the ones that haunted her dreams.
She fixed Alicia with a sure gaze, and she could see her falter before shaking her head. "They'll die, Elyza... We have to help." It had taken one look in those eyes before she caved.
**~ three ~**
The third time, and hopefully not the last, is after Elyza once again reunites Alicia with her family. After outrunning a swarm of walkers and making it to the shore line, Elyza had been ready to stand her ground. She had, shockingly, managed to band together with parts of the former gang they had encountered earlier on, and networked a systems of communication.
According to the group’s mechanic, there had been a wave of them moving quickly in a swarm. A majority of the group had been killed, specifically the official douche bag of a leader, and they had to relocate quickly. A warning had been issued out and Elyza had just gotten the tail end of it, hearing one of the other thirtheen gangs being mauled. She had woken Alicia and they had ran.
Miles and miles all the way to the shore.
And here the were: stuck, cornered, all other words to describe their fucked up situation.
Alicia had looked out and scouted the coast, waving frantically as Elyza loaded her guns. | 39ff341081774b128a25c1caac347522 | ['fd0bed22c56c4af8a42e675df87f95b2'] | “What the hell are you doing, Lex?” Alicia had panted out after reaching her. “They’re coming, we just have to hang on for a few minutes.”
“Well a few minutes is not something we have,” She grunted out, clicking the safety off and unscrewing the silencer. “When I start shooting, get the hell out of here okay?”
“What, no! I’m not leaving you, you’re coming with me,”
“Listen to me,” Elyza leveled her gaze and she found herself lost in a beautiful emerald sea, “they’ll run once they hear me shooting, I’ll distract them when they get here, just promise me you’ll stay safe.”
Alicia seemed to struggle with something, either wanting to protest or say something else, her eyebrows furrowed before she nodded.
“Before you leave, I have to tell you-,” The sound of crunching gravel reached Elyza’s ears and she placed a firm hand on Alicia’s shoulder.
“Save it for later, sweetie,” Elyza teases, before sending her a smirk. A thought slips into her mind and she quickly sheds her leather jacket, draping it over Alicia’s shoulders.
“Maybe someday I’ll come back for it, yeah?” She winks and feels thrilled when she sees the blush on Alicia's cheeks.
“May we meet again, Elyza.” Alicia gives her a small smile, pressing her lips to her cheek and then she's gone.
The phrase sends shivers down her spine as she strides to face the amassing horde of zombies. When she blinks she sees a girl in red and war paint streaking her face, she sees an army retreating with torches and she hears a lulling voice saying her name…
She open fires at the hordes, the sound of gunshots deafening in her ears, but the lingering sound of that voice echoes in her mind.
**~ one ~**
“May we meet again, Elyza.” She whispers, like a prayer sent above and before she can talk herself out of it, she presses her lips to Elyza's cheek.
When she pulls back, she runs. She can feel the tears streaking down her cheeks but she runs and runs until she's far far away, and she's on the shore, just a few feet from the water. Looking back, all she sees is a girl, dressed in blue, fallen from the sky, and fighting for her life.
" _Clarke,_ " |
16592434752f4f87a7ed42847a5c83e6 | ['fd0da42899a3462796b51724f9ff40cd'] | “And now, ew, naked Barry is an image I _so_ did not need in my head,” she complained, laying her head down on the countertop.
Caitlin giggled. “Well you’d better hope you’re right, because I think he’s found a partner for the night!”
Startled, Iris turned around, eyes scanning the crowd of club-goers carefully. She gasped when she saw the man her best friend was currently tugging behind himself into the throng.
“Wait, isn’t that _Leonard Snart_?!”
“Yeah sure, as if Barry would—wait, seriously, _Captain COLD_?!” Caitlin yelled, finally getting a good look at the pair.
The two women exchanged twin looks of disbelief.
“BARRY ALLEN!”
**Fin (for now)**
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> And that's all she wrote (for now)! I totally have a more smutty idea in mind for a sequel (ie. back inside the club, Len and Barry get up to naughty naughty club shenans).
>
> Please drop me some reviews and/or sequel ideas! #coldflash4lyfe | 05084bf5194d44f3af1c29053c275790 | ['fd0da42899a3462796b51724f9ff40cd'] | “Okay, seeing as we still have no good idea who it is, hear me out,” Felicity ventured again. “What if the arrow wasn’t just meant to be a gift? I’m not necessarily saying it’s got a bunch of strings attached,” the blonde added hurriedly as Oliver opened his mouth. “None that we know of yet, anyway. But until the gift-giver shows their hand, maybe just recognize it for what it is.”
“And what’s that,” the archer asked skeptically.
“A statement,” she said with dawning understanding. “See, they obviously care about your well-being. Enough to keep track of and worry about how well-armed you are, which means they must support the Hood's mission. God, now _I’m_ referring to you in the third person, which is just weird. But anyway, they didn’t booby-trap the arrow, as far as you can tell, right?”
Oliver nodded reluctantly. He was certain of that at least.
“And they’re clearly smart if they can figure out what your arrows are made of, and they must have access to good resources if they were able to custom purchase the one they gave you.”
The vigilante grimaced. “Actually, as far as I can tell, this isn’t of any known fletcher’s make. Either they must have some connections to have found a reputable fletcher underground, which is unlikely, or they assembled it themselves.”
Diggle whistled. “Damn.”
“Exactly,” Oliver said, turning to him. “Do you understand now just how dangerous whoever this person could be that we’re dealing with?”
The other man barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes. “That’s not what I meant, Oliver. I meant, knowing all that, I have to agree with Felicity about this being a statement. This person must really believe in the Vigilante to go to such lengths to try to keep him alive and well,” Diggle said firmly, catching the vigilante’s eye.
Glancing away, Oliver’s unwilling gaze set upon the slip of paper beside him.
_‘Stay safe,’_ it read.
“But _why_ ,” he stressed, throwing up his hands in exasperation.
Felicity nibbled on her pen (green, of course) in thought.
“Who knows?” she said. “I mean, why does anyone support the Hood?”
“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what their next move is,” Diggle said, clapping a hand on Oliver’s shoulder.
“In the meantime,” he continued, “any ideas why they would pick the site where you apprehended Kincaid as a drop-off point?”
Oliver frowned.
“No, and that’s another thing that worries me. I don’t see the connection,” he said shortly. “And I don’t like not knowing.”
“Could it just be a coincidence…?” Felicity tried.
The vigilante shook his head. “You know that in our line of work we can’t afford to chalk things up to coincidence. There’s a link somehow between that night and this anonymous… new player.”
His brow furrowed. “I just have to figure out what it is.”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> PS. Still looking for a beta if anyone feels like putting up with me for the duration of this fic!! :P
3. Chapter 3
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Hey guys! So I made some general edits to the previous two chapters if you want to check em out, but if they're TL;DR, just know that no one is calling Oliver "the Arrow" yet (you'll see why this is significant in later chapters).
>
> Also, heads up for some family feels in this chapter! Plus, a brief Raisa appearance, because I thought she was awesome and I was sad she wasn't in more episodes of the Arrow.
>
> Anyway, enjoy!
_3 weeks later, in the Foundry_
“Oliver.”
“Oliver!”
Lost in thought, the shirtless man in question continued mechanically up the salmon ladder, not hearing the determined blonde IT girl standing below.
“OLIVER!”
Oliver jerked and let go of the metal bars, only catching himself in time to land on his feet due to his well-honed reflexes.
“What?” he barked.
“You know, normally I’d be all for watching you do your… uh, sexy ripple-ey muscle thing,” Felicity said, waving a hand vaguely at the metal construction in front of her, “but this is the first time I think I’ve managed to catch you off guard. Like, ever. Which, hello, is saying a lot since you’re, well, _you_. And I’m wearing pumps! Like, my definitely-not-running-from-danger ones with the super loud wooden heels,” she babbled.
“Felicity,” Oliver tried to speak patiently. “What’s your point.”
The blonde hesitated. “Are you okay?” she blurted out. “Sorry, that’s—I mean, yeah, you probably aren’t okay. You know, with Tommy and everything… but I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Well, not that you have to be!” she said hastily. “But just that you’re not doing your whole grr-I’m-totally-happy-just-shooting-people routine when really you need someone to talk to, and—okay, um that’s weird, don’t you usually interrupt me at this point?”
The vigilante was silent for a moment.
“It’s not Tommy,” he said finally. “I miss him, but… but I know I’m doing better, _am_ better, being the kind of man he and this city deserve.”
Felicity nodded earnestly. “You are. Better. I mean, not that you weren’t already great to begin with! Cuz you were—are—a great person, but… well, you know what I mean.”
She was quiet for a moment. “I’m sure Tommy would be proud of you. So would your dad.”
Oliver gave her a rare smile. “Thank you, Felicity.”
The blonde smiled back. After a second though, she sighed.
“But you have been kinda…distant, Oliver. I mean, more so than your usual Vigilante alter-ego self. I know we’ve been pretty busy with a lot of cases these past couple weeks, and things with your family are still tense, but… ” she trailed off.
The man shrugged, hoping she would drop it. |
c82cf5f5d7de4af6a8d27faaeddb232c | ['fd2acf35237547fe9504899701f260d8'] | Well that killed the mood Hoseok wasn’t supposed to smile at him _like that_ make him feel all gushy and mushy like mashed potatoes. Hoseok wasn’t a one night stand Hoseok deserved to be taken on dates showed off the world. …Wait he wanted to date Jung Hoseok fuck.
“Do you like pancakes or waffles?”
Hoseok raised an eyebrow at him, _you cook?_
_12:00_
“Happy New Year’s Yoongi,” Hoseok beamed at him as the toaster popped out the waffles he grabbed one of the chocolate chip waffles from the toaster and poured syrup on it.
“Happy New Year’s Hoseok.” Yoongi whispered. He liked this, he really liked this and it was scary.
_12:01 From jin: hap py new year ilove u!!!!!!!_
_12:02 From namjoon: happy new year! (firework emoji)_
_12:02 From jay: did you get the dick_
_12:03 From jay: wait r u a top or bottom?_
_12:03 From jay: did you give him dick?_
_12:04 From jay: happy new year from ur local gay bro_
_9:05 From kihyun: I fucking hate you_
_9:06 From kihyun: I hope you walk into traffic asshole_
**Author's Note:**
> I haven’t written since 2015 ??
> I mean I had unpublished stuff on my old laptop but that’s all gone bc of hard drive failure and I never backed any of it up :/ so I’ve been in a slump for a few months now but I’m trying to get back into writing so yeah sorry if this was bad!!!
> probably only gonna be few chapters too? | 83672cead0d14102b3c414934dbe03fd | ['fd2acf35237547fe9504899701f260d8'] |
**Author's Note:**
> I know it isn’t new year’s anymore but let’s just pretend!!!! sorry for any grammar mistakes and all that good stuff
“Come on you like Namjoon and his friends have cute friends.” Yoongi just snorted, god how he hated New Year’s just gross couples kissing while taking selfies.
_You’re just bitter._
“Come on Jimin won’t be there.” Jin tried to convince him one last time, Jimin that name left a sour taste in both boys’ mouth. Yoongi sighed and ran his hands over his face, “you aren’t going to give up till I say, yes are you?”
Jin laughed.
Someone just pushed him, some random drunk person just pushed him and made him spill his drink on his expensive ass shirt what a great way to ring in the new year.
He growled as he made his way to the kitchen.
“Come on Yoongi you don’t want to bring in the New Year with a frown,” Jungkook elbowed him, Yoongi glared at his junior, “don’t you have someone else to bother.” He hissed, he pulled out his phone _‘how to get a stain out a white shirt?’_
Jungkook huffed and mumbled something that Yoongi didn’t catch. He really wasn’t in the mood to fight his junior.
“What do you want Jungkook?”
Jungkook suddenly found his hem of his shirt interesting, “look I know you and Jimin ended things on a bad note, but come on it’s been 6 months.”
Yoongi gritted his teeth stop telling me what to do what to feel shut up shut up.
“You mean if you came home one day and found Yugyeom and Bambam fucking you’d be just be peachy? You would forgive and forget?” Jungkook tensed, “Would you Jungkook?” He spat bitterly.
“No.” Jungkook patted his shoulder, “Sorry.”
_I’m sorry you don’t deserve this, but Jimin is my friend too,_ the words went unsaid.
People poured into the kitchen to refill their drinks or to get new ones Jungkook disappeared with the crowd. Probably to shove his tongue down Yugyeom’s throat.
**9:12 to: jin if I stay here i’m gonna beat jungkooks ass**
_9:13 from jin: what did he do? (confused emoji)_
**9:13 to jin: what didn’t he do**
“Yah! Min Yoongi!” Yoongi groaned. An arm wrapped around him, “I know some cute girls that might be in your taste tonight or do you want some nice dick because I know people, or you know a good old threesome!”
Jaebeom aka Jay had a loud ass mouth on him no wonder he and Zico and he got along so well.
“Fresh out of a relationship still nursing some wounds you know,” Yoongi said coolly, Jay nodded solemnly.
“Whatever you say just hit me up.”
Jay grabbed another beer out of the fridge, “you still sucking Jiho’s dick?”
Jay cackled, “Nah he’s sucking mine.” Yoongi laughed into the now empty kitchen save for the passed out pink haired man on the floor, Yoongi dug through the drawers.
_Ah_
Kihyun would look truly beautiful with a half assed drawed on dick on the side of his cheek or forehead, he would do both for he was feeling extra petty tonight.
He made his way around the two-story house some people talked to him Hyungwon high fived him for drawing dicks on Kihyun’s face and was dying of laughter.
He saw Taehyung but said nothing, just made his way around the alcohol buzzing in his system he thought about taking Hyejeong back home she smelled nice and had nice boobs. Not that Yoongi cared too much for breasts.
**11:05 to jin: im going home**
_11:06 from jin: (angry emoji)_
_11:06 from jin: NOO ITS NOT NEW YEARS IM NOT LEETTING YO ULEAV E_
**11:07 to jin: are you drunk already?**
_11:07 From jin (happy emoji)_
**11:08 to jin: smh lightweight**
_11:10 from unknown number: come to the deck_
**11:10 to ?: who r u?**
1 _1:11 from ?: jay who else_
1 **1:12 to jay: jay who?**
_11:12 from jay: FUCKIGN MIN YOONGI GET UR ASS OVER HERE OR UR GONNA MISS SOME DICK_
**11:13 to jay: How did you get my number?**
_11:14: from jay: Namjoon (cool shade emoji)_
_11:14 from jay: Come on hes cute and nice_
_11:15 from jay: he smells like flowers and sunshine and jihos not down for a threesome tonight_
**11:15 to jay: so im getting your slopping seconds?**
**11:15 to jay: pass**
**11:16 to jay: I’m going home with hyejeong**
_11:17 from jay: (eyes emoji)_
_11:17 from jay: ?? idk who she is_
Yoongi paused for minute would Hyejeong be up for a threesome?
**11:18 to jay: Which deck?**
It couldn’t hurt, right?
_11:18 from jay: HA_
His name is Hoseok and he took Yoongi’s breathe away, but Jimin also did that and he broke his heart.
He pressed Hoseok against the wall teeth clashing, hands wandering, clothes being shed.
“You guys are assholes did you forget I’m here,” Hyejeong pouted, and crossed her arms in front of her.
Yoongi and Hoseok looked at each other, then back at her.
“I’ve never done it with a girl,” Hoseok admitted.
Hyejeong didn’t seem phased though she seemed quite pleased, “do you want to or just Yoongi?” Hyejeong asked truly she didn’t mind.
Hoseok rubbed the back of his neck, Yoongi shifted in his bed.
“It’s fine but if you want Yoongi.” Hoseok replied. Would it make Yoongi more of an asshole than he already if he kicked her out? He frowned at the thought.
A phone dinged it was Hyejeong's
“Damn Chanmi, sorry I gotta go.” She quickly apologized, “hope you guys have fun,” and she dashed out the room.
_11:55_
“So, do you still want to have sex?” Yoongi asked Hoseok shrugged, “if you want.”
“I asked.”
“It’s up to you,” Hoseok smiled at him god help him. |
5c31d3511aaa421d91f67b549bc2c356 | ['fd37e51cc49a42d580aaabc759037de7'] | “Yes Suga. Sorry Suga.” Noya quipped and he settled into his seat. Hinata parroted Noya but made sure to add the -san.
“Yes Mom.” Tanaka snorted.
Suga sighed and settled back in his seat and glanced towards Daichi. Suga reached out to smooth his hand over the captain’s back soothingly. Daichi glanced to his left to see Suga smiling brightly at him.
“I don’t know if I should kiss you or scold you.” He whispered loud enough for Suga to hear, but low enough for no one else to listen in on.
“Why am I the one in trouble? I didn’t do anything wrong. I was just protecting our kids- I mean our team.” Suga sputtered towards the end.
“They were right, you looked like an angry mama bear. I’ve never heard or seen you so pissed off.” Daichi chuckled as he raised up to rest his head against the seat.
“Now you all know not to make me angry I guess. I am just glad Kageyama is alright. Who knows what Oikawa would’ve done.” Suga’s face seemed to darken at the thought.
“Don’t worry about it. He is safe now.”
“But-”
“Our kids are safe. And probably a little scared of you but at least they’re safe.” Daichi said quickly before he leaned down to kiss a blushing Suga lightly on the lips.
“Yeah.” Suga breathed out lightly.
**Author's Note:**
> This needed to happen in my mind and it did. So sorry. Come yell at me about it on my tumblr: http://it-smells-like-chloroform.tumblr.com/
> THANK YOU AMANDA FOR READING MY SHIT! | 55c4261625164baaa504ef557ad8ddd2 | ['fd37e51cc49a42d580aaabc759037de7'] |
1. Angel With a Sinful Body
His neighbor was sort of strange in his mind. Maybe he thought that because he was out of town the weekend said neighbor moved in. Daichi's friend Kuroo was at his apartment that weekend though. Kuroo called Daichi out of breath saying that his new neighbor was an angel and that he was so lucky to have thin walls if he got to listen to that. Daichi just brushed it off and ignored his friend and went on with his much needed vacation.
When Daichi returned from his vacation, he saw the neighbor once. The silver haired man bowed quickly and introduced himself as Sugawara, or Suga for short. Daichi was taken aback by the man’s beauty and stuttered out his own name, much to his disappointment. After the quick introduction Suga eyed his front door and excused himself saying he needed to get back into his apartment. Daichi shrugged it off at first and thought that maybe Suga had left dinner on the stove or something. That night though, Daichi heard something that could only be described as a baby's cry. He immediately grabbed his phone and called Kuroo.
“Hey babe what’s up?” The slow drawl of Kuroo's voice was unmistakable.
“Don't call me that. You know how you were house sitting when Suga moved in?” Daichi quickly asked trying not to get stuck on the phone with Kuroo so close to his bed time.
“Suga? Who?”
“My new neighbor. The “angel” in 432. His name is Suga.” Daichi paced around his office which was the room that shared a wall with Suga's apartment. He was pacing because he never remembered Kuroo saying he had a kid or a sibling or maybe even an animal.
“Oh, so the angel has a name to go along with that sinful body. Nice. Are you calling to tell me about you fucking him?” Kuroo must have dropped something on his end because Kuroo muttered something then sounded far away.
“No, of course not what is wrong with you? Never mind. I wanted to ask you if you saw a kid with him or an animal?” Daichi asked as he stopped and leaned against the wall to listen again; it was silent.
“No. He is too young to have a kid. Are you scared he has a possible girlfriend? Daichi, you dog!” Kuroo chuckled loudly and snorted when he heard Daichi sigh loudly into the phone.
“Kuroo I just heard some strange noises and I wanted to know if he had a kid or something. I'm not trying to get into his pants.”
“Listening in on your neighbor, you really are the kinky type.”
“Kuroo I am sure if you were in your office and heard a baby crying you would be concerned too.” Daichi could never win with Kuroo.
“Dude, you're probably stressed from work or maybe you left your T.V on or something. I'm pretty sure you just need some sleep.” For once Daichi agreed with Kuroo and nodded despite the fact he was alone.
“You're probably right I guess I am going to go to bed then. Good night.” With that, the phone line went silent. Daichi stood in the small home office for at least ten minutes listening closely to the silence. While he waited there he heard nothing, maybe he was going insane.
2. The Neighbor is a Lawyer
Suga enjoyed his new apartment; he was lucky he was able to move into a bigger apartment on such a short notice. The landlord was a saint, but he was pretty sure his compromising situation was what won her heart. As Suga was warming up a bottle in the microwave he heard some sniffling and it soon turned into a full blown wail. _ 'Fuck'. _ Suga quickly walked to his bedroom and looked into his room and there on his bed laid the small bundle he knew he set there. The silver haired man walked into the room and scooped up the small bundle while rocking it slowly. The cries began to pacify and Suga was thankful, he didn't really need his neighbors complaining so soon. Suga smiled down at the small bundle in his arms, his gaze was immediately captured by a shimmering pair of deep blue eyes, which were still glistening with tears.
“It's alright Tobio I have your bottle in the microwave.” Suga directed to the baby as he walked to retrieve said bottle. He quickly checked the temperature and led it to the baby's small mouth. Of course Tobio began to suck on it eagerly, at such a sweet sight Suga could only smile. After the bottle was finished, Suga made quick work of burping Tobio and changing him into some warm pajamas. Suga had tried all weekend to put together the brand new white crib he bought for the baby but he just couldn't figure it out and plus, Tobio needed his constant attention. So Suga just sighed as he laid down next to Tobio He was so glad that Tobio didn't fight his sleep like some children. The blue-eyed boy looked up at Suga's tired expression and laid his head down. Suga reached over to rub the child's back to hopefully soothe him to sleep. After a few minutes of Tobio sleepily blinking up at Suga, he was now asleep and hopefully dreaming peacefully. Suga quickly fell asleep as well. |
5214d9e243fc431ba1170cf4cb2ea32d | ['fd45053a20c14f96aa929a38ce713d94'] | "Well I reckon you've gotta do whatever ya need to, to sort it out." The brunette sounded genuinely concerned about the state of Bea's relationship, which kind of surprised the red head. She knew that during her time in the hospital Boomer and Allie had grown close, bonding over their missing loved ones, but she still didn't expect this level of concern.
"Is that right?"
"Well, yea, ya know ever since the fire you haven't been yourself Bea. It's like ya really tired all the time, the way Franky got towards the end ya know? But then ya met Allie and now you're kinda like the old Bea, but maybe a bit nicer."
Bea was floored. She had learnt over the years that Boomer was more than what was just on the surface, that she had a heart of gold and she was fiercely loyal. She just never knew that the other woman had been paying that much attention to Bea's struggle. Maxine was always observing, always seemed to know how Bea was feeling, sometimes even before the red head knew it herself, but Boomer? It was overwhelming that the brunette cared that much.
"I like Allie too. I just don't want yas to lose each other over something dumb, ya know?"
The red head didn't really know how to respond. She always felt emotionally inept in moments like this, she'd never really learnt how to respond in an appropriate manner when people spoke from their hearts. The older woman tried to by herself time by surging ahead of the brunette to push open the door to the shower block, but what she saw as the door opened pushed any concerns of an appropriate emotional response out of her mind. Allie was standing against the tiles, seeming to try and shrink into them as Juice and one of her boys advanced towards her. Bea didn't even have a second to react before Boomer pushed past her, grabbing Juice and pushing her forcefully against the wall.
"What the fuck do yo think you're fucking doing ya fucking dyke?"
Boomer was mad, and the red head had seen the things that the brunette could do when she was mad and in this instance she had no intention of holding her back.
"Juice!" Bea began, advancing on a terrified looking Juice as her minion scurried out of the shower block, without even having to be told. "How many times do we have to meet like this, before you get the picture. Stop messing with my girls or I swear to God I will actually let Boomer kill you, or better yet, I'll do it myself."
The older lesbian opened her mouth to say something, but Boomer instantly shut her with a punch to the stomach.
"I'm fucking serious you fucking dyke bitch. Don't fucking touch anyone ever again. Especially not Allie, she's my girl now."
Bea nodded at Boomer, who proceeded with an uppercut to Juice's chin so hard that she was knocked unconscious.
*****
"Bea Smith, my very own knight in shining teal." The women were back in their unit and Allie was sitting on her bed watching as Bea stood nervously in the doorway to her cell.
"Boomer did most of the hard work really." The red head had started wringing her hands, almost a caricature of anxiety.
"Yea well she can expect a packet of Monte Carlos or ten coming her way tomorrow. But she's not really what I want to talk about right now."
"Allie, I... I'm... I didn't mean to...." The red head was pacing up and down the blonde's cell now, wringing her hands and throwing glances at the younger woman.
"Bea calm down, it's okay." Allie stood up from the bed and wrapped her arms around the woman she adored.
"It's okay, shhhh."
"You shouldn't be the one comforting me, you were just nearly attacked by Juice."
"I think you need the comfort more than I do right now."
"I don't deserve it though." The red head stated, pushing the younger woman away.
"Bea, you deserve a lot more than you think you do."
"Why are you being so nice to me? You're mad at me, I did exactly what you asked me not to do." The red head was getting agitated now, looking around the room as though searching for an exit strategy.
"You really don't get it do you Bea?"
"Get what?"
"I love you, you dickhead. When you love someone you forgive them, even when they do things that shit you. I'm not gonna give up on you Bea, I love you."
The red head looked absolutely floored at Allie's confession, she froze in her pacing and turned to the younger woman.
"You love me?"
"Yes."
"I love you too."
11. Chapter 11
Allie was fast asleep, her breathing was deep and even and her body was warm where it was curled into Bea's side. The red head couldn't sleep though, she was so overwhelmed with intense feelings of love. She felt as though her heart was going to explode, her stomach full of the most pleasant butterflies she had ever experienced.
She had always heard people talk about being in love, she'd read about it in books and she'd seen people fall in love in movies, but she'd never experienced it first hand until now, until Allie Novak. She finally understood why people would act so strangely, why they would do things that seemed completely out of character when they were in love. | 75f0ee9b1f004f7197158ff6b62fb41a | ['fd45053a20c14f96aa929a38ce713d94'] |
The heart is a muscle
**Author's Note:**
> Title and idea taken from the song “The heart is a muscle” by Gang of Youths. If you haven’t heard it, I urge you to listen to it, it’s a really beautiful song.
Yaz loved to watch the Doctor. Not in a creepy following someone around without their knowledge and observing everything they did sort of way, but in a, I love this endearing alien so much I can get enough of looking at her sort of way.
In her fun moments, in her quiet moments, in her “I’m the Doctor and I’m the boss moments” the woman was always beautiful, always kind and always trying to see the bright side of things.
Some days Yaz would watch as the Time Lord ran manically around the the TARDIS console, chastising the machine for taking them to the wrong place and swearing to never trust her again. Other times the Doctor could be found talking softly to the console, stroking different handles, telling the TARDIS how brilliant she was, and how lucky she was to have her.
Yaz loved how no matter who was talking, or what they were saying, the Doctor listened, really listened. Especially when she spoke to children, she was patient, her face would become so open and she would hang on every word they said, like they were the most important thing in the Universe, no matter who they were. The Doctor was so good with children, on some level Yaz knew it was because the Doctor was a big kid herself, she’d been alive for Millenia but had the childlike wonder of a five year old. Mostly Yaz knew that the Doctor was so good with young people because she cared so much, her heart was so open and her kindness was just sort of spilling out all the time. The brunette had once watched her girlfriend walk around for three straight hours with a little girl on her back, looking for the little girls parents. The Doctor wouldn’t put her down because she’d lost her shoes and the blonde hadn’t wanted her to hurt her feet. When they had finally found the girl’s parents the Doctor had cried. When Yaz asked her why she was crying she’d responded that she was happy and sometimes happiness made her eyes leak.
The Doctor very rarely sat still, one of the only times was when she was reading. She liked to sit in front of the fire in the vast TARDIS library, with a blanket and she would sit completely still, except to turn the pages. This was one of Yaz’s favourite times to watch the Doctor and she would more often than not stop reading her own book just to look. She loved the way the older woman’s hair looked liked honey in the firelight and how she made herself seem impossibly small by tucking her feet in under her. The Time Lord’s face would remain expressive the whole time she read, reacting as she went on, sometimes smiling in amusement and sometimes schrunching her nose up in disagreement. She disagreed with books a lot. Often pointing out mistakes to Yaz as she found them.
“Check this out Yaz, this says that in the 62nd Century the Lord of Kelanteen saved the whole planet from alien invasion, but it was actually me. The Lord was quite useless actually, just sat around being a little sook. I did everything. I don’t mind not getting credit, but come on, at least make it believable.”
The Doctor hated people in power who didn’t take care of the people in their charge, or did nothing as those people got hurt and Yaz loved to watch the Doctor tell them off. The steely look she got in her eye, the way her voice lowered an octave. The Doctor got close to people when she was angry, close and quiet and even standing in front of the tallest of men, she looked ten feet tall. No one ever won an argument with the Doctor, not even Graham, even though he tried with all his might.
It always amazed Yaz that the Doctor had seen and known so much pain, but always remained so hopeful. She saw aliens, humans and robots alike preform atrocities against their own races and other races that didn’t even know they existed and yet she was so hopeful, she was so kind and she was so merciful. Someone could kill someone the Doctor loved and yet she would remain merciful and talk of hope for the future. She was the strongest person Yaz had ever known, by a long shot. She had taught the brunette so much about having an open heart and an open mind, it felt like a debt that Yaz would never be able to repay.
It was rare that the Doctor would hold onto a sadness, she would usually shake it off after a few moments, like water off a duck’s back. That’s why when Yaz found her in her bedroom, lying in her bed, gazing sadly at her star studded ceiling, she was immediately worried.
“You okay Doctor?” She asked tentatively from the doorway. She wanted to be there for her girlfriend, but she didn’t want to intrude on a private moment.
The Doctor turned her head towards the door, her sad contemplation immediately giving way as her face broke into a smile as bright as a sunbeam.
“Yaz, my beautiful Yaz, I’m perfectly fine, no need to worry about me. I was just thinking about and missing another brilliant human I knew, my best friend, and missing her. Amy Pond her name was and you know what Amy would tell me right now? She’d tell me to stop moping about and wasting time when I could be enjoying spending time with my gorgeous girlfriend Yaz.”
The Doctor bounded out of bed and threw on her coat.
“So, where should we go today?” |
6f1d61ce690642fcbb41065b25322314 | ['fd579d9a8684415195f7ecce53db8ac9'] | “I’m positing that binding a dedicated controlling presence to the ship would minimize the tasks of steering the ship. Another elemental, say, or Thruik suggests that a properly propitiated primal spirit might do. I even have a theory about awakening an object spirit that might work even better, but that’d be a lifelong endeavor. Maybe one of the Vanilorran Houses might be interested…”
Kier smiled indulgently as Cael continued, his kebab momentarily forgotten except as a prop to demonstrate some point he felt needed clarification. He could follow most of what Cael was saying, though he knew at this point the artificer wasn’t really talking to him. Kier was content to walk with his boyfriend up the winding streets of Highmark on a pleasant summer day, enjoying the street food that was currently significantly easier to come by than a seat inside anywhere.
Having whiled away the morning in Cael’s apartment, the pair was slowly making their way up the mountain to Parliament Park for the twilight celebrations. Any number of parties, both formal and less so, would demand their attention this evening, making Kier even happier to have this time with Cael to himself. As much as he enjoyed the company of his employers and their associates, he felt at home with Cael.
“I wonder if I could get Vedran, Ardith and Aleyn to invest; it would be ready in time for Macen or Mhireen to make use of it,” Cael commented nonchalantly.
The mention of his charges brought Kier’s attention more fully back into the conversation. His time in Lord Vedran’s employ, particularly the last few months with all the new additions, had made him consider some possibilities he’d previously dismissed. There were issues, as they’d all known there would be, but, by and large, the three new siblings got along famously. Saiya continued her reign over her older brother (and father), but luckily Macen was less tractable than the reserved Mhireen. Honestly, the eldest concerned Kier the most; his shell cracked on occasion, but he still maintained a studied distance. It wasn’t a good sign in anyone, but more distressing in someone so young. Kier always got the impression that Mhireen didn’t trust his good fortune to last.
Nonetheless, Saiya’s cheerful instigations had a tendency to brighten the solemn boy, and his care with Macen was always heartening. Kier knew they’d be even more of a handful as they aged, but that was more likely to be a result of their friendly relationships than the opposite. Spending so much time considering the future of the children in his charge had put his mind to imagining what sort of future his, and he hoped Cael’s, family might have.
“Do you ever want one?” Kier found himself blurting out, largely unintentionally.
Cael stopped, turning. His face displayed the comical confusion it showed when his train of thought was unexpectedly derailed.
“One what?” he asked, seemingly genuinely confused. “There were five nouns in that sentence. And a pronoun. You might need to be more specific.”
“Children, you idiot,” Kier said, rolling his eyes and stepping up to plant a kiss on Cael’s cheek. “I know it’s something your family wants and all, but, out of curiosity, had you considered it?”
“Oh,” was the whole of Cael’s reply for a moment as they resumed walking. Kier was hoping the look on his face meant he was giving it genuine consideration, rather than determining some way to say no. Kier was content to finish his pork bun as Cael mulled it over, absentmindedly finishing his kebab. At length, the artificer responded. “You mean like adopting, like Aleyn and Vedran and Ardith did?”
“Yeah, most likely,” Kier answered with a smile. “Methodology wasn’t exactly the question, though.”
“No, I know, I just...I hadn’t really considered it,” Cael offered nervously. “I’m not usually all that great with people, even little people. By which I mean children, not like gnomes or goblins or whatever. But that would be a little person I would be in charge of, all of the time. I’m not always sure about being in charge of me, much less someone else.
But you’re great with kids. Not just Macen and Saiya and Mhireen, but at Roscoe’s orphanage, and my cousins love you, and, well, you always seem to know what you’re doing. I never do, but I don’t...I don’t want to keep some kid from having you as a father just because I’m scared.“
Kier’s expression grew more appreciative as Cael kept babbling, the opposite of the noble’s increasingly distressed mien. As Cael finished, looking lost and apologetic, Kier stepped forward, took Cael’s face in his hands, and pulled him down for a deep, steady kiss. Cael felt reticent at first, but Kier felt his lover’s breathing slow as he held the kiss, eventually lowering his hands to wrap his arms around the taller man. Looking up into Cael’s eyes, he gave a gentle smile.
“It’s not something you have to worry about anytime soon. Okay?” Kier comforted him. “You already made your choice about your family, so, if this is in your...our future, its a choice made for us, by us. We don’t have to make it for a good long while. I just...I’ve been thinking maybe it’s not such a bad idea, someday.
And, whatever you may say on the matter, I think you’d make a great dad.”
Cael gave a sheepish, unsure smile, but bent down to meet Kier for another lengthy kiss. At the very least, airship design was now the furthest thing from his mind.
◌◌◌ | afe6af7cde324f28ba74a9fd1ec31b28 | ['fd579d9a8684415195f7ecce53db8ac9'] | The caldera pond at the center of Parliament Park was ringed by celebrants, the banks full of families, whole Houses practically, sprawled on blankets or sitting in brought chairs. Kier and Cael managed to find the attendant Thunderbolts and their assorted allies, quite the crowd at this point. Handshakes and hugs abounded, a ritual Kier got the impression had been repeated with each arrival. Cael gave Kier’s hand a squeeze as he excused himself to find Thruik, leaving Kier to the conversation he’d struck up with Ardith and Aleyn as Saiya tried to press him into some game Cael was fairly certain the shifter girl had made up on the spot.
Cael found his friend ensconced in conversation with Prelate Cordran from the church of Ioun. Seeing the two Iounians, Cael was momentarily saddened by his ersatz cousin’s absence, but he understood the gawky forgeborn was otherwise occupied. Luckily, Thruik’s conversation seemed to be at an end, as the Prelate excused herself after a perfunctory but polite greeting.
“I’d have thought you two would have been here a while ago to stake out a spot,” Thruik commented genially. He grinned wolfishly as he continued. “I hope you were otherwise well-occupied.”
Cael couldn’t help but smile. In the past, he and Thruik would have been the last of their group to be joking about their love lives, but Sehanine had smiled upon them this past year. Thruik seemed happier every time Cael saw him these days, content in a way previously unfamiliar. It looked good on the orcish priest.
“Yeah, it’s been a good day,” Cael responded noncommittally. “Kier surprised me at home this morning, so we got the whole today together. Its been fun.”
Thruik’s eyes narrowed, searching his friend’s face. His tone didn’t match his sunny account of his day, and this wasn’t Cael’s usual shyness. Concerned, Thruik thought it might be good to give Cael a moment away from their crowd to talk.
“Sounds great,” Thruik responded with exaggerated enthusiasm. “I was going to go grab some more drinks from one of the carts. Help me carry?”
Cael nodded, falling into step behind his friend. He kept quiet, his expression pensive, obviously screwing up the courage to talk about something concerning. Thruik was content to let him work on it, walking in companionable silence through the ambient din. As they reached the line for the nearest drink cart, Cael finally spoke up.
“Kier asked me if I want kids,” he said, a bit more sharply than he’d meant to.
Thruik gave his friend a sidelong glance, trying to judge his mood. More than anything, Cael looked frightened, fidgety, one hand nervously tracing the dragonmark on the back of the other. The cleric was momentarily thrown, the response seemingly from nowhere, before he recognized the source. That look had become all too familiar to Cael’s friends, particularly Alia and himself, after Cael’s disastrous first foray into the adventuring profession.
“Cael,” he said, gently, placating. “Do you want kids?”
“I want to,” Cael responded, his face downcast. “I just...I don’t think I’m ready. I don’t feel like I ever would be.”
Thruik made a sympathetic smile, raising his hand to clasp Cael’s shoulder.
“I get that, believe me, I do. I didn’t think I would be either.”
Cael nodded blankly, not really hearing. It took a moment for comprehension to dawn, his head snapping up to meet Thruik’s gaze.
“Thru? Del’s…? You guys…you’re having a baby?” Cael explained as Thruik’s smile spread into a wide grin.
“We were going to tell people at Brenn’s party later, but, yeah, we’re pregnant,” Thruik explained.
Cael hesitated, his arms twitching upward, unsure for a moment. He and Thruik both began to laugh simultaneously, the two friends embracing for a quick congratulatory hug. Their fellow cart patrons looked askance, but the outburst wasn’t entirely out of place amidst the general revelry.
“Thru, that’s great! I’m so happy for you guys,” Cael gushed, grinning broadly.
“Thanks,” Thruik grinned back giddily. “Uh, just to be sure, you don’t know until later. Okay?”
Cael nodded his enthusiastic assent as they stepped forward, having reached the front of the drink queue. They paid for a few bottles of wine and a jug of cider, ludicrously overpriced for the holiday celebration. In good spirits, they began the trek back to the group’s spot overlooking the pond.
“Cael,” Thruik began cautiously; he wanted to choose the right words. “You know that a child wouldn’t be your sole responsibility, right? It wouldn’t even be shared with just Kier, but with your family, with your friends, a whole network of people. I know the idea of being responsible for other people still worries you, but...you’re ready. Or you will be, whenever you choose to. Once you set your mind to something, you get it done. I recall that being one of Kier’s favorites among your many good traits.”
Thruik favored his companion with a wink, the end of his little speech coinciding with their arrival back amongst their friends. Drinks were distributed, glasses raised, another wave of merriment washing over the gathering. Dusk had well and truly descended as everyone’s cups were filled. On cue, the first of the fireworks streamed skyward over the crowd, to the roaring cheers of all in attendance.
Cael made his way to where Kier stood, his gaze steadfastly heavenward. Cael paused a moment, the aerial display completely forgotten in favor of Kier’s wondrous countenance. Dazzling lights washed over Kier’s features, the patrician’s face beaming in appreciation of the pyrotechnics, as Cael realized he wasn’t going to be able to let him go this time. Not for long, at the very least.
The enamored noble stepped up behind his beloved, pulling the shorter man into an affectionate embrace. For his part, Kier melted into Cael’s arms, eminently content. Cael placed a soft kiss on Kier’s head as he pointed to Vedran, Ardith, and Aleyn, each holding one of their children, all spellbound.
“Someday,” he said, leaning down to speak as softly as could still be heard, “we’ll bring our kids to see this, too.” |
35a39f68b12e4d33838ef02dc5c2b32e | ['fd6621bc3bcd43948347d287b5af96d2'] | “Your lifestyle?” Stiles asked tentatively.
“I’m gay.” Derek shook his head amusedly, “And from Alabama.”
“Ah.” Stiles was biting his lip and scratching at the back of his head inelegantly. His expression, though, was one of understanding and it’s as if his eyes were saying_ no further explanation needed._
“I know all about that.” Stiles’ voice was tender. “Left Kansas when I was… sixteen, I think.” Stiles stared off behind Derek, into the distance – possibly trying to remember what undoubtedly felt like lifetimes ago to him. “My mom died when I was a kid, and my dad… he just didn’t understand me. He loved me though, and there’s nights when I think I might have jumped the gun. But how do you go back, y’know? After so long.”
Derek shrugged pointedly. He’d only just left, hadn’t really had the chance to question his decision. He liked to believe he could go back one day. See his parents again. Once he was settled and he’d built a life for himself, he wasn’t going to stay away forever.
“He’d be happy to see you.” Stiles looked as though Derek had torn the rug from under him for a moment. Then he blinked back into reality and looked at Derek blankly.
“After eight years?” Stiles’ words were dull, not angry or accusing.
“Better than eigh_teen_ years, right?”
“I guess.” Stiles took a long swig of his beer and Derek watched him gulp down the rest of the bottle a second later. “I better get back. Theo could come home any time.” Stiles took out his cheap-looking flip phone and checked the time.
“Wait…” Derek said urgently, Stiles paused, “Take my number. If you ever need anything… Just call.” Stiles smiled lightly and handed Derek his phone. Before Derek could program his name in, Stiles reached out and grabbed it back.
“Sorry, just gonna put 'Lydia' as the name. She’s our next-door neighbor upstairs. Theo won’t – ”
“I understand.” Derek interrupted so that Stiles didn’t have to explain. Stiles smiled at him gratefully before programming his own number in Derek’s phone.
“Thanks again Derek.” Stiles made his way to the front door, and Derek followed after him. Stiles grabbed the handle, but before opening the door, he turned around to Derek abruptly.
Stiles stood on his tippy toes and cautiously placed a kiss on Derek’s cheek.
“Seriously. Thanks.” Derek felt his heart skip a beat at the proximity, he felt his cheeks reddening at the touch.
“Course.” Was all Derek could manage to say. Stiles gave another beautiful and playful half smirk before making his way out the door. Derek stared at the empty space for what felt like an eternity.
~
Later that night, around three in the morning – Derek was jerked awake once again. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, the room was unbearably hot even though the sun had long left the sky. He listened intently and could hear the sound of Stiles sobbing again. He reached for his phone.
He took a moment to wonder if it was safe to message Stiles. If Theo would be there and grab the phone from Stiles’ hand. He decided to text something inconspicuous. Something that could ostensibly come from Lydia.
**To Stiles:_ Heard weird noises from next door. You alright? _**
Derek got a reply immediately and he wanted to scream in frustration. The words were bright and offending on his screen.
**From Stiles: _All good, have no idea what you heard._**
Derek wanted to text back that Stiles was a liar, he wanted to take the elevator upstairs and demand to know what was happening. But then he remembered his promise.
**To Stiles:_ Must have been the wind._**
2. Chapter 2
Derek had managed to land a bartending gig at a swanky bar downtown. He didn’t love bartending – the club music left his ears ringing for hours, and the lowered inhibitions of drunken men and women edged on his nerves. But the money was good, and the employers cared less about experience and more about putting good-looking people behind the bar.
He’d gotten used to the routine of his new life. Ramen for lunch, sandwiches or cheap pasta for dinner, endless night shifts at the bar. All the while, thinking about Stiles, his parents, and everything that he couldn’t control. He still woke every night to the sound of Stiles and his _boyfriend_ fighting. He often wondered when Stiles got the chance to sleep.
He would text Stiles occasionally, but it was always guarded. Making sure that each text was as discreet as possible. Stiles hadn’t visited since the night they ate dinner together. And Derek couldn’t deny that he longed to see him again.
It was three weeks later when he decided to go knocking on Stiles’ apartment door. He had waited to make his way upstairs until the sounds of shouting died down, and until he could hear the second set of footsteps fade into the hallway.
When Stiles opened the door, an open and candid grin spread across his face.
It was early in the morning, and Stiles was wearing a long robe as opposed to the oversized sweaters Derek had seen him in before. Stiles didn’t bother to cover the bruise healing on his jaw, and Derek was glad to see that a fresh one hadn’t replaced it.
“Hey Derek,” Stiles seemed to smile wider, and Derek couldn’t help but mirror the expression. “Theo just went… well he’s not here.” Stiles summed up while gesturing uncomfortably.
The motion caused the arm of Stiles’ robe to fall slightly, and Derek could see a dark bruise hidden in the fabric. Derek forced himself to look away from Stiles’ arm but not before Stiles caught him looking. He pulled at the sleeve until it covered down to his fingers. | cfb3fe9e7bd84ec88d3309cacb6eafe5 | ['fd6621bc3bcd43948347d287b5af96d2'] | “Now, Derek.” Derek focused on Stiles then, “I know you don’t love the idea of having strange hunters in your house and with totally good reason… But these guys seem to believe we aren’t a threat and there’s no harm in hammering the point home, so we don’t have to worry about them in the future. The more hunters fighting in our corner the better.”
“Stiles is right, Derek. Alliances with other hunters is always a good thing and it wouldn’t be the first time we played nice to avoid future inconveniences.” Allison placed a hand on Scott’s back emphasizing her point.
“And it’s just for the debrief. We’ll tell them everything we know; they’ll tell us everything they know and we’ll all part ways. It’s the easiest way to keep them sweet and assure them we’re the good guys here.” Scott finished, and the three of them looked expectantly at Derek.
Derek knew they were right and trusted his emissary and his second in command with utter surety. He glanced to Peter to make sure he’d been listening. Peter gave him a curt nod, which meant he agreed with the argument that’d been laid out. He took a moment to place Cora, who’d also been listening. She shrugged her shoulders and nodded her head, signaling that she was okay with it too.
He felt the fight leave him and his shoulders fell on a sigh. As much as he hated the idea, he had to do what was best for his pack.
“Alright.” He ground out before turning on his heels to march back to the hunters. “Tomorrow at 10:00 am. Scott will give you the address. Don’t be late.” He put as much authority as he could muster into the words, knowing from experience that one didn’t have to be a wolf to feel intimidated by Derek.
Sam, for his part, looked at least slightly taken off guard; Dean, however, just leered mischievously in response.
“Sounds like a party.” Dean grinned wider as he looked somewhere behind Derek and winked suggestively. Derek didn’t need to guess who his attentions were directed at.
Derek had often wondered if his death glares could actually kill a man like Stiles always joked. He knew now that they couldn’t, because if they could, this _Dean_ would not be graced with another breath. As if sensing the hostility, Scott appeared and began reciting their address for Sam, who typed it into his phone.
Derek noticed the rest of the pack waiting for the order to leave with the body parts, and he motioned for them to take off. Each running in different directions. Boyd picked up the head, years of fighting monsters eradicating any squeamishness. And Derek saw Peter able to stand on his own, healed enough now that he didn’t need any support.
As the remaining members of the pack began to walk out of the woods, towards the beaten path of the Reservoir with Sam and Dean, Derek spoke up.
“Stiles, with me.” Stiles looked up and nodded, following Derek as he took the back way out – towards the private parking lot that Derek had parked his Camaro in. He easily could’ve ran to the Reservoir with the rest of the pack earlier in the night but he liked the feeling of driving better. “You hungry?” Derek could see Stiles perk up at that.
“Ugh, starved.” Stiles beamed widely. They’d already eaten dinner, but Derek knew excitement usually left Stiles with a craving for curly fries. Stiles hopped into the passenger seat excitedly.
Derek let himself feel smug for a moment when he thought of Peter wondering what was taking the two of them so long to get home. But as Stiles began rambling about how he’d read that exciting and terrifying situations often made people feel hungry – all Derek could feel was content.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I just wanted to say thank you for all the support, kudos and comments I've gotten on this fic so far. It's my first fanfic so it feels awesome to recieve so much postive feedback :)
>
> I am going to update frequently and am hoping to finish the story by the end of August! So it won't be a WIP for long!
>
> Thanks again and make sure to comment if you have any questions or just to let me know how you're liking it! :)
>
> \- Victoria
14. Scott
Scott usually woke up pretty early. There were birds that lived in the woods right outside his and Allison’s bedroom window. Their morning chirps and songs were particularly shrill to his enhanced werewolf hearing, and made it difficult to sleep in. He was always careful to leave the bed as soundlessly as possible, as to not wake up Allison.
Scott made his way downstairs to make coffee. The oven clock told him it was 6:42am, which meant there was plenty of time to get everyone up and ready before the hunters would show up for the debriefing. Before the coffee was finished brewing, Peter walked into the kitchen dressed for the day.
“You’re up early.” Scott regarded coolly. Peter shrugged and took a mug out for himself, ready to steal some of the pot Scott had just made. Scott let him.
“I was thinking we should get the four of us together to talk before the pack meeting.” Peter spoke up as they sat at the table.
“I can go wake up Stiles, if you wanna get Derek.” Scott suggested. Peter nodded, but Scott knew who he would’ve preferred to wake up. Scott had warmed up to Peter exponentially over the last couple years, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still protective of his best friend.
Plus, no way was he okay with starting the day with a fight – knowing full-well that Derek would be pissed the moment he’d realized his Uncle had gone into Stiles’ room to fetch him from sleep. |
269f486431d049388ae4efe893945ab1 | ['fd7eb3e2f5554f0c9fd6108d70820895'] |
1. Go On Live Your Life
Frank's POV
The disturbing thoughts swirled around in my head. My best friend... the man I love, is getting married.
Gerard knows I love him and I know he loves me too, but he's IN LOVE with LynZ. It had always been an unspoken truth between me and Gerard that we loved each other but I don't think Gerard knows I'm IN LOVE with him. It was hard for me to accept at first. I thought I was straight, but then Gerard came into my life. The moment I met him I felt a spark between us, but I guess he didn't .Gerard loves me the way a friend loves there best friend. The kind of love I have for him is unexplainable, the only thing I know for certain is that I can't do without him.
I wish LynZ had never come into our lives. We met her a long time ago and the truth is, I actually like her. I wish it was easier to hate her. But really Gerard?! Two months?!
I got up from my bunk and stormed out of the bunk room, grabbing the arm of my silver haired best friend who was watching TV. He looked baffled but I guess he saw the sad look in my eyes and so he followed me off the tour bus and into the parking lot. I could feel the 3 pairs of eyes, belonging to our other band mates, staring at me as I led him outside.
"What's this about Frank?" He asked me.
"I need to talk to you Gee." I sat on a curb and pulled out a pack of cigarettes before offering him one and lighting them for us both.
"Ok, what is it?" I looked at the ground, a sullen look on my face as he sat down next to me.
"You're my best friend Gee, but... are you happy?"
"What do you mean Frankie?" God I love it when he calls me Frankie.
"It's just not like you to... I dunno, fall in love and want to get married at all, let alone so soon. Common Gee, what's up? You only started dating her two months ago. Please just tell me what's happening?" he sighs.
"Frankie, I'm sorry if you feel like I've been blocking you out. The truth is... I've just been having problems. Y'know, problems that I've had in the past. The depression is coming back, the need to drink, I-I've been having a hard time keeping off the pills, things like that. But you are my best friend and I really am sorry if I haven't been acting like it." I smile a little knowing that I haven't lost him completely.
"But Gee, why didn't you tell anybody you were having problems? And if you aren't happy, then why are you getting married?" I was getting a little teary eyed now at the idea of him sinking back into old habits.
"That's the thing Frankie, when I'm with LynZ, I am happy. She makes me happy. And... she makes me not want to um... do that stuff to myself." That hit me hard. It made me sad to think that LynZ could do that for him and I couldn't. Though I hate to admit it, I would do anything if it meant Gerard being happy. My breathing is shaky but I manage to let out a sigh that doesn't sound like I'm about to cry. I stand up.
"Alright, Gee. That's all I needed. I just want you to be happy." I drop my cigarette to the ground and stomp on it. "Promise you'll tell me everything from now on?"
"Yeah, I promise. I shouldn't have kept this from you."
"It's okay." It's not okay.
2. Sure, I'm okay.
I'm still kind of sulky. I'm not trying to be, but it's kind of hard to be happy. Even if it's for my best friend.
We have been traveling since last night but now I can feel the bus take a turn and then lurch to a stop. I pop my head up from where it was resting on the table and look out the window. We have appeared to have stopped in the parking lot of a medium sized arena. Yay. Another night of watching Gerard dance and show off, knowing I can't have him.
He's sitting across the table from me and as I lay my head back down, he takes a drink from his water bottle.
"Hey, we're going into town. You wanna come?" Ray asked gestering to himself, Mikey and Bob.
"No thanks, I'm gunna stay here and watch a movie" Gerard said.
"Yeah, me too." I hadn't watched a movie with Gerard in a while. We used to do it all the time. I just wish we could go back to the times when Gerard wasn't dating LynZ and I didn't have to try so hard not to straddle his hips and start making out with him. The temptation is strong.
After the guys had left, Gerard grabbed his water bottle and went to choose a movie to watch. He put one in the player and "The Conjuring" started playing. He sat down on the couch and I went over and sat down next to him.
About halfway through the movie, Gerard told me he had to pee so he paused the movie. I waited patiently for him to come back. My mind wandered to my own desires. I thought about Gerard. Gerard's perfect hair, Gerard's perfect body, Gerard's perfect hands, Gerard's perfect lips. His lips are perfect. He always tastes really good to. Of course I haven't kissed him since the beginning of the Black Parade tour. We are now toward the end of Black Parade. But, he is a really good kisser. I really miss the taste of his lips. | dc5a755a73bc4129b2ead83f28892bb3 | ['fd7eb3e2f5554f0c9fd6108d70820895'] |
1. Hitting Rock Bottom
The headache from my hangover burned through my deep sleep. I was laying on my face on a couch in the dressing room. I recognized the room as the one My Chem had used for the show the night before. I used my sore arms to push me up into a sitting position. That was a mistake. I instantly got dizzy and was just able to grab on to a nearby trash can before loosing the contents of my stomach. It was then that I looked up and realized that the dressing room had been abandoned. The guys knew how I got on a hangover. They had probably returned to the tour bus. I located my cell phone from my back pocket. and flipped it open to check the time. LINK.
I dragged myself back to the couch. I could hear in my head the conversations I would be forced to listen to later. My brother, Mikey, would be so disappointed that I had fallen back into depression. No, not disappointed for that. He would be disappointed that I had fallen back into my ...habits. I smoke, I drink, I take huge amounts of pills, I even have a new one. That I was even more afraid to talk about. I had been doing cocaine. Nobody knew about that one. I didn't want to tell anybody. I was already too ashamed of everything else.
I have a problem.
I know I have a problem. I felt the tears start to run down my face. I wanted it to stop! I want to be me again! I want to be the Gerard that my friends want to be around!
I puke again as the tears still run down my face. Then I curl up into a ball on the couch and pull my knees to my chest. The tears start to subside. I check the time again. LINK.
I didn't want to wait any longer. I go to my contacts and find the number I want. I hit the talk button and wait while it rings. It takes a long time for Brian, our manager, to pick up.
"What the Fuck, Gerard! It's LINK!"
"Um, I n-needed to t-talk to you, Brian. I have a problem. I know you've been trying to get me to realize that and now I believe you." I started crying again.
"Gerard, calm down, we're going to get you through this. Just calm down and explain to me what changed."
"I-I just don't know anything anymore! I don't know why I feel sad and worthless all the time. I just don't know. It's eating away at me. I can't do this anymore. Im drowning myself in alcohol and pills! The guys are so disappointed in me, they don't even want to be around me anymore! I want to stop, Brian, but I can't! What am I going to do?!"
Brian’s POV
I knew that Gerard had been depressed since before the band started. He had been able to get out of it at least for a while but now it’s back. Everyone had all seen it coming. Mikey, Ray and Frank had been keeping me informed on Gerard's state of mind; it wasn't good. They know he was hiding something else as well. He would just disappear at times and come back a few hours later looking and acting quite a bit different than he had before.
Gerard’s POV
"Gerard, just calm down and breath. Ok? I know you've been turning to alcohol and pills to drown out the lack of feeling. Here's what I want you to do. When you hang up, go to your tour bus, take a shower, and go to bed. Don't take any pills, don't wake anybody up, you need some time to calm down. Just go to sleep and when you wake up, tell your friends about your addiction. They just want to hear it from you. They already know what your going through. Alright?"
"I don't want to tell them, Brian. I don't want them to hate me." I was still crying. I hadn't told Brian about my Cocaine problem yet.
"They will never hate you Gerard, they have gotten you through depression once, they can do it again."
"I'll try but I don't think I can do it."
"Just try. Call me again tomorrow at the same time. Try to stay sober. Goodbye Gerard."
"Bye" I said at almost a whisper before hanging up the phone. I was shaking. Slowly I got up and walked hunched over across the parking lot, toward the bus. It took me about 10 minutes at my slow pace. I climbed the steps to the sound of my friends snoring, making my way to the bathroom. Everybody stayed asleep. I turned on the shower, the water was cold. What did I expect from a bus water heater? I showered quickly, then dressed and got into my bunk. I didn't have any trouble falling asleep.
2. I'm not okay (day 1)
Gerard's POV
I felt a hand shaking me awake. I was laying on my side with my face to the wall. I didn't turn around. Not wanting to face my friends.
"Hey! Wake up Gee! It’s time for breakfast!" I heard my brothers voice from behind me.
"don't want any" I mumbled.
"Come on Gerard, you never eat anything!" I stayed facing the wall. I didn't want to show Mikey how broken I was. I needed to though. What would I tell Brian if I didn't talk to the band!? "Fine then! Come out when you're ready." I heard his footsteps move away.
Franks POV
Mikey walked out of the Bunk area and took a seat at the table.
"He's not coming?" I asked.
"No." he answered back with a worried look on his face. |
bcd20f57b1ce48b4b2dcec31fc98399a | ['fd7eb940b3154bdea1ef94952bbd2148'] | He ended up in St. James’ Park. He was incredibly short of breath, his shirt and jumper were wet with a mix of sweat and the light drizzle of rain, and his glasses were all fogged up, but he felt a little better. With a sigh, he sat down on a bench and watched the ducks swim in the fading afternoon light.
Something in Ezra was _wrong_ , he could feel it. His mind felt fuzzy and muddled, and his head ached like he’d gone too long without drinking water (which he had, but that wasn’t what was giving him a headache). His thoughts kept drifting back to Crowley, which made him think of his father, which made him hear the echo of his own forceful “ _No_ ” in his ears. Ezra couldn’t quite come up with a word to match his emotions, and that was incredibly frustrating for a boy who prided himself on his mastery of the English language. It couldn’t be that he was feeling guilty, could it? No. He had nothing to feel guilty about, least of all telling the truth about his lack of a relationship with Crowley.
“I’m just tired,” Ezra said to the ducks. They didn’t reply (not because they were being rude, but because they were ducks), so he stood up, combed his fingers through his damp curls, and began walking home. He imagined his father would ask for an apology, so he decided it would be easier just to give him one. On the way, Ezra stopped at a grocery store and bought his mother some flowers to thank her for being kind to Crowley.
Across town in a sparsely decorated luxury home, Crowley was glaring at his house plants and getting drunk on cheap vodka, trying to get Ezra’s father’s words out of his head.
The next morning when Crowley pulled up to the kerb, Ezra practically ran to the car. “Hi,” he said. “I am so sorry about yesterday. I thought you might not have wanted to pick me up this morning, so I was on my way to unlock my bike - I got it back a couple days ago, by the way - when I saw you.” He wasn't quite sure why he'd said all of that, but he did usually tend to talk quickly when he was nervous.
Crowley grunted noncommittally and started driving, handing Ezra a cup of tea in silence. Ezra took a dainty sip and smiled a little, which he always did when Crowley brought him tea (which had been every school day except one since their first time studying at the coffee shop - Crowley had forgotten once because he’d woken up late after a night of binge-drinking and had been forced to take extra time getting ready as he’d spent twenty minutes vomiting into the toilet).
Ezra was staring at Crowley, blue eyes clear and bright and soft. “I defended you, you know,” he said quietly. “My father said something - it doesn’t matter what - and I ran away to the park for a bit, but when I got back I defended you. I told my father that your sexuali- who you like - oh, I don’t know what the right term is, so whatever… I told him that’s not his business and that he ought to leave you alone about it.”
Crowley smiled a little despite himself. “You ran away from your flat and then went back later?”
“I was angry and didn’t want to yell at my father.”
“Probably would have done some good if you had,” Crowley muttered. Ezra narrowed his eyes; it wasn’t that he agreed with his father or even really liked him, but he still had some measure of respect for him and thought Crowley should, too. However, given that his father had been rude to Crowley beyond all reasonable defence, Ezra decided not to say anything and settled for a disapproving glare.
“Anyway, I thought you ought to know,” said Ezra, looking down and picking at his cuticles again.
“Why?”
Ezra shrugged. “I don’t know, really. I guess I just thought you should know that I wasn’t just going to let me father get away with what he’d said.”
“No, angel.” Crowley sighed, making a swerving turn across two lanes of traffic and nearly causing the car behind him to hit a telephone pole. “Why did you defend me?”
It took a moment for Ezra to be sure he’d heard Crowley correctly. “Because you’re my _friend_ , Crowley.”
For the first time in a long while, Crowley felt a blush crawl over his high cheekbones. “Oh,” he said. “Good.”
Ezra gave him a wide megawatt smile and took another sip of tea.
“It’s funny, angel, but I think you might be the first person to actually call me a friend,” Crowley said after a minute, making an effort to keep his voice smooth and emotionless.
“What in heaven are you talking about?” Ezra’s delicate mouth was gaping open a little. “You have more friends than anyone else in school.”
Crowley shrugged and fiddled with the cassette player. “I’m just saying that none of them have ever said that I’m their friend. It might be implied, but they’ve never said it.”
“They’re rubbish friends, then,” Ezra said with such sudden conviction that Crowley almost smiled.
“You know something, angel?”
“Hmm?”
“I don’t hate you as much as I thought I did.” Crowley cracked a tiny smile in Ezra’s direction, and it was Ezra’s turn to flush a little pink in the face. | 0e9e3036f6484496841138ce903984ae | ['fd7eb940b3154bdea1ef94952bbd2148'] | Crowley cleared his throat for no reason other than to see the look on Eli’s face when he realized that there had been an audience to that whole encounter. Predictably, Eli nearly dropped his new date’s phone as he whipped around, apology already on his lips.
“So sorry, I didn’t hear anyone come in, I’ll be with you in- oh. Crowley, hello.”
“Hi,” Crowley said, forcing his mouth into his carefully-constructed smile. Ever since Eli had complimented his smile, Crowley had been making an effort to do it more, but only when it was just himself and Eli. He didn’t want anyone else seeing it. It felt strangely intimate, somehow, like his smile was under Eli’s possession, and that should have scared him, but it didn’t.
Eli noticed the absence of Crowley’s real smile, and the joy on his face flickered a little. To Crowley’s horror, Eli’s soft cheeks were red with the same blush that had been there when he’d agreed to go out with Seaghan, and Crowley found himself wishing that he could be the one to put that blush there someday.
“Friend of yours?” The American was eyeing Crowley warily, looking him up and down with the type of judgmental air that usually preceded a snide comment about the permanency of tattoos or the ridiculous need that some people felt to cover up their God-given bodies. Crowley had seen it before, so he braced himself for the onslaught of prejudicial comments.
Luckily, Eli stepped between them and started making introductions. “Yes, sorry. Jason, this is my friend, Crowley. Crowley, this is Jason.”
“Hello,” Jason said with feigned politeness. “Nice to meet you.”
“Mmm,” Crowley replied, earning himself a withering glare from Eli (one which he knew meant _be-polite-please-Crowley_).
An awkward sort of silence settled over the room, and Eli fidgeted uncomfortably with his too-large tweed blazer.
“Right,” Jason finally said. “I’ll call you later, Eli. Goodbye, Crowley.”
Eli followed Jason to the door, flipping the sign to _“Closed”_ and locking it, his body positioned in such a way that he couldn’t see Crowley at all. Crowley had the sneaking suspicion that this was intentional, and he could see the tightness in Eli’s shoulders as he turned around.
Crowley didn’t say anything at first, just watched Eli bustle around the shop, tidying up the counter and closing down the register and shutting down his computer. Eli was always talking, and he had a tendency to get even more chatty when he was anxious, so the silence that was still filling the room was wildly out of character. Eli carefully avoided looking at Crowley, too, so Crowley knew that he would have to be the one to break the silence.
“Jason seems _friendly_,” Crowley finally said, spitting out the last word like it was burning his tongue.
“He is.”
“Going out with him, then?” He knew he was being petty, and he knew he had absolutely no right to be as jealous as he was, but he couldn’t stop himself. Seeing Eli with another man (another _better-for-him man_, Crowley’s brain supplied helpfully) was doing funny things to Crowley’s self control, which was admittedly already limited when it came to Eli.
“Shouldn’t matter to you if I am.”
“It doesn’t,” Crowley lied.
“Good,” Eli said, finally raising his eyes to Crowley’s as he strode across the room to where Crowley was standing. “He really is quite a _nice_-”
And for some reason, that was what did it. Crowley took a step forward, fisted his hands in Eli’s hideous blazer, and pushed Eli up against the nearest wall. Eli’s dark eyes had gone wide, and his mouth was slightly parted in shock, but Crowley couldn’t find it in himself to care. So, before Eli could protest or get him to stop, Crowley bent his head and pressed his lips to Eli’s.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I have been waiting to write this last scene for longer than you all can possibly know.
10. Ten
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> The aftermath of the kiss.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> So, I've finally climbed back aboard the Softness Train. It'll be pretty soft and lovely from here on out (with spots of angsty stuff because emotional issues do NOT fix themselves overnight), so I hope you're ready for it! Just an FYI: this chapter is almost pure dialogue, so I hope it flows well!
>
> Thanks for all of the lovely support you've given me. Y'all's comments and kudos seriously brighten my day. Please feel free to reach out to me here on on Tumblr whenever you'd like! I do my best to reply. Also, don't ever hesitate to share or rec any of my stories; they're yours as much as they are mine (but if you copy a piece, please give me credit)!
>
> I love you all very much and wish you the best of adventures in coming days.
>
> Warnings for language and discussions of drunkenness.
For two and a half seconds, Crowley forgot that there was anything more to the world than the scratchiness of Eli’s blazer under his hands and the heat of Eli’s body against his and _oh, fuck_ the softness of Eli’s lips under his. For two and a half seconds, the world spun backwards and flew off its axis. For two and a half seconds, Crowley kissed Eli, and Eli kissed him back.
And then Eli’s hands were on Crowley’s chest and Crowley was stumbling backwards, and everything about the world went back to normal again.
Except it hadn’t gone back to normal, really. Not at all. Because Crowley had lost all of his sanity and dignity and self-control and had _kissed Eli with no warning_. He’d kissed him because he was jealous and because he wanted to, and Eli had taken a quarter of a second to be shocked before kissing Crowley back like he’d been waiting his entire life to do it. |
fd88dfe74ca94dce8f29da09e11b4430 | ['fd9566cc25854c8fb01af95e998e3396'] | Martin groaned in reply and thrust with him. “Never plan on it.”
They very quickly established a rhythm. Douglas reached over and grabbed the lube from inside the bedside table drawer. He smeared some on both of their cocks, which made the going easier. “Oh fuck.” Martin whimpered and began to slide faster. “Oh fuck that’s brilliant.” They both froze. Martin looked up at Douglas who was looking almost aghast at him.
“Don’t say brilliant again in bed. _Ever_.”
“I won’t.” Martin agreed and kissed him again.
Douglas returned the kiss and as they began rutting against each other again, he reached down and wrapped his hand around both of their cocks. Martin moaned loudly into his mouth and his hands gripped his shoulders as the pace quickened.
Martin could feel sweat breaking out across his forehead and hear Douglas’ breathing heavily between moans and sighs. He groaned and put his mouth on Douglas’ neck, feeling his pulse quicken. “Douglas” he whimpered.
“Oh god Martin…oh god, I need you.” The first officer moved faster and stroked them harder as they thrust against each other harder and faster.
It was Martin who succumbed first. He raised his hips a final time and came hard against Douglas with a loud, broken cry muffled by Douglas’ shoulder. The sensation sent Douglas straight into his own orgasm.
When it was over, and Douglas had clumsily cleaned them both up with a tissue from the bedside table and thrown it away, he took Martin into his arms and kissed his forehead, then his cheeks and then his lips. “I love you.” He whispered, voice husky. Martin opened his eyes and looked up at him. Douglas was weeping.
“I know.” Martin murmured back and kissed him quickly. He wiped Douglas’ tears away with his thumb and kissed the tracks they left upon his cheeks. “I know you love me and I love you too.”
They laid together in silence until they slowly fell asleep, Martin tucked against Douglas’ chest; safe and warm and whole and alive.
Meanwhile, across town, in another home, in another bed, Hercules Shipwright was wide awake, staring at the side that Carolyn used to occupy whenever she stayed there. The left side. Arthur had decided to go back home that afternoon, even though Herc had tried to convince him to stay. He had insisted that he wanted to be back at home, in his bed and Snoopadoop needed to be at home too. So for the first time since Carolyn had died, Herc was alone.
He reached over and took the pillow she used to use and held it to his nose, inhaling deeply. He needed just one…just one shred of Carolyn. Anything. A whiff of her perfume, or shampoo. Just one little, tangible reminder of their time together. Something for him to hold onto in the dark, to comfort him after spending four days comforting Arthur. Anything at all. He was drowning, and oh god, where was his damn speedboat?!. When he couldn’t smell even the remotest tinge of her hair, he let out a loud groan, deep from inside his chest. A scream of pure, unadulterated grief and anguish tore through him, and he let it out. A single sound of white hot rage and pain. He curled around that single pillow cradled to his chest and sobbed himself to sleep. | a94b6428607a451bb37c4671c594595b | ['fd9566cc25854c8fb01af95e998e3396'] | The plane ride home was short and uneventful. As predicted, the clients were too hungover to do anything more than sleep the whole way. After landing, Martin did the paperwork while Douglas wheeled himself around the portakabin in a desk chair and watched Martin.
His eyebrows were furrowed as he concentrated and wrote, the pen scraping gently against the paper.
The whole way home, Martin had seemed off. Prone to snapping and looking at Douglas out of the corner of his eye when he thought Douglas couldn't see him. He hadn't even tried to win the game of Airports That Start With the Letter Zed, even though Douglas had suggested it knowing Martin would win. He knew better than to ask him if he was okay again, so he just let it be.
"And, done" Martin looked up at him with a quick smile.
"Good. File that and we'll head off?" Douglas stood and stretched. "One whole day til our next trip. Any idea what you're going to do?"
"Well, I would be working on van jobs. Earn a little money." His voice was bordering on testy again. "But since I obviously can't do that. I don't know. Maybe reread the manual for the thousandth time" his voice went from testy to bitter and he ran a hand down his face and sighed, frustrated and defeated. Douglas was hit with a little inspiration.
"Would you like to accompany me to Duxford Air Museum tomorrow then? Since you have nothing on?"
"Since when do you want to spend your day off at an air museum?" Martin cocked one eyebrow.
"Since it will be a nice day, you enjoy it and I, like you, have nothing on. So would you like to go?" Douglas asked smoothly, and absolutely did not feel a tiny twinge of nerves.
"Well.." He thought for a moment. "Okay. Yeah. I'd like that. Thank you"
It hit Douglas in that moment that he had just volunteered to spend an entire day learning about aeroplanes. On his day off. From flying an aeroplane. But the smile Martin was giving him was happy and genuine, and Douglas knew it would be completely worth it.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> The little bit of research indicated that some hotels in France provide breakfast. But that's mostly in higher class hotels. So just pretend that this lower class one would. Shh. :)
11. Chapter 11
And worth it, it was. They arrived early to the museum and declined the guided tour. Douglas had smiled at Martin as they walked away from the desk and said that Martin was far more qualified to give a tour than anyone who actually worked there, and Martin's face lit up and taken on a slight blush, and Douglas had to wonder when it was when someone had last paid him a genuine compliment, and he inwardly vowed to make sure he heard plenty of them.
All day, (save for the thirty minutes they took to eat lunch while Martin was still talking about aeroplanes in between bites of food) Martin carefully guided him from exhibit to exhibit, chattering about the absolute finest details about each and every thing he pointed at. He was relaxed and happy, animatedly moving from one thing to the next taking time to explain everything.
Douglas let the stream of words wash over him, and remained quiet, watching his thin hands moving excitedly as he pointed and gesticulated. He only offered his commentary when it was needed and just let Martin talk. He was quite literally in his element, and Douglas hadn't seen him this happy in a long time. And if Martin kept grabbing him by the arm to steer him to the next thing, that was neither here nor there.
Martin fell quiet on the ride home, leaning against the passenger side window, and watching the sky above them. Douglas was content to remain quiet, listening to the opera he had playing softly on the radio When they finally arrived back at Douglas', he turned to see Martin fast asleep, face completely relaxed and a little slack jawed.
He smiled, watching him for a few moments. Martin never looked so relaxed. Of course, they had shared a room dozens of times over the years, on those trips Carolyn either couldn't afford or didn't want to pay for rooms for them both. But usually, even in sleep, Martin's face was pinched and worried, as if his problems had followed him into dreamland. But now, Douglas was struck by how much younger he looked when this relaxed. How beautiful. He let himself really look at him, knowing Martin wouldn't know.
He really _was_ beautiful, Douglas had to admit. His captain was short, scrawny and pale. He would never be a GQ model, Douglas knew that. But his hair was thick rings of rust that he knew through long hours in a small enclosed space would smell like cheap shampoo, something citrus-y and jet fuel. They fell across his forehead in an artless array and was now just starting to creep down his neck, which meant that Martin would very soon be getting his haircut, which judging by the fluttering of his stomach, Douglas regretted.
His eyes, he knew beneath those fluttering eyelashes were a sparkling green. Well, they had sparkled today. They had danced and crinkled up in the corners as well. When was the last time his eyes expressed true joy, rather than exhaustion, sadness, resignation or anger? Far too long.
He had freckles speckling all across his nose which was turned up ever so slightly on the end and cheeks which were prone to blushing along with his ears. His skin was creamy and smooth, and his hands were skinny with long fingers, unadorned save for his father's signet ring on his left middle finger. It was sightly too big on him now, but some good meals will easily rectify it... |
8584fa68f93d43b3a2be40553e8b6a67 | ['fdc4b459d2ed4426abb8b3300d2fc431'] | “Seriously, brown eyes are absolutely _spectacular_. What you see is only a shade of the usual; they have this aura of mystery, as if they’re trying to hide from the world something astounding. Blue eyes? Yeah sure, they’re vibrant all the time, but that’s what takes away from the wonder. Now, brown eyes… what’s amazing about them is that it’s in the smallest of moments, the times you would least expect, that they unveil their true beauty. They draw you in with one look, and then you can’t stop staring. Call me sappy, but I’m honestly speaking for real here.”
His hands had already retracted so that he may use them for further gesturing, but Kiku was so captivated that it certainly would have been no different.
“Brown kind of gives you a sense of warmth. It’s a very welcoming but also enigmatic color, which is a unique trait in comparison to any of the others. What’s also really cool is that, when they come out in the sunlight, you can actually see different ringlets of color. You can’t even call them just brown anymore. Because the color varies in shade, there’s times when you can see specks of light that glitter like stars in a nebula. It’s like…”
Words slowing down, his arms fell to his sides as his voice grew softer in sincerity.
“It’s like a mini universe condensed in two packets of brown, y’know?”
They stood there like that for a moment as a gentle breeze blew past by, bringing the two back to their senses. The distance between them increased by a slight degree as Alfred resumed the original position he was at from their trek to the ice cream parlor. He then urged the shorter individual forward by patting him slightly, all the while wiping the sweat that was accumulating on his forehead.
“I hope that sinks in for ya,” Alfred chuckled, leading them around a corner, “Just thought you should know that.”
Kiku meekly followed, still unsure of what to say. Never before in his long history had he heard _anyone_ talk about brown eyes like that. The very thought of such blurred his mind—tangled his processor—for it was a first, and it needed to be saved. The mystery of why Alfred had been quiet earlier was now long forgotten, soon replaced by the romantics of the color brown. He felt Alfred tug at him, babbling over something about nearing a building, though he was sure that he will come to soon enough.
As Alfred led Kiku over to the parlor, his mind reeled back to the time they were simply walking in stillness, the time when he was stealing glances at Kiku and marveling over how stunning his chocolate brown eyes were.
**Author's Note:**
> Not to say that other colors are below brown. It's just a rather under-appreciated color (along with darker obscure shades), and I would know since I own practically black eyes.
> Thank you for reading! | f18fe02509da4d6c99a91adb59ed24b3 | ['fdc4b459d2ed4426abb8b3300d2fc431'] | One of those ganged up on the single person walked up close to him with head arrogantly levelled to match with the other, leaving what implied to be his associates to snicker and jeer. The belligerent teen, whose features were twisted to an incendiary expression, smirked at the face of his challenge with an excitement to condescend. Uttering every word with a lace of poison, he voiced the very statement of his opponent’s infuriation with a consequent shove and odious laughter.
“Honda. Is. A fucking. _Creep_.”
Yet, Alfred did not waver a single bit.
Similar to that day, the scene slowed into blurred figures throwing strikes and blows at each other. Even though Kiku needed to head home right away, his feet weighed him down so that he could not move away from where he was standing. The muscles in his neck froze, and he was forced to watch the ordeal with unblinking eyes. When blotches of scarlet began to appear, the instigator’s companions hurriedly broke up the fight and dragged him away from his foe before any of the staff could take notice.
Breathing in disoriented intervals, the American agonizingly stood up straight again as he removed the fractured glasses off his face. He brought the back of his hand to wipe at his split lip, revealing smudges of blood. The hall seemed to be barren of anyone else since they all ran off to their vacations, but as Alfred turned in the slightest, he caught a witness just outside his direct field of vision.
The two exchanged split-second glances of unnamed feelings before he swiftly trudged away, leaving Kiku alone in the hall just like before.
The way back felt entirely surreal. Shoes sloshing in the molten snow, Kiku walked aimlessly, tolerating for his legs to lead him home. His mind was too preoccupied with the job of replaying the last hour of what had happened, and it also disabled his ability to further reason or react. It took him twice the amount of time to return than what he regularly does.
Before he could enter the warmth of his house, Kiku found a package lying before the door. Staring at it fleetingly, he knelt down to inspect the box with an unintentional lighter level of analysis. It was wrapped in a simple Christmas pattern and adorned with a decently tied bow; the tag being addressed to him, the blank for the giver’s name was, on the contrary, left without a mark. Kiku scrutinized the tag for some time, and even if the present is for him, he could not be so sure. His parents’ car was not parked where it usually would be, and he had no friends nor acquaintances to give him such an item. Whatever it was, whomever it was really for, the apathetic boy brought the box in and stopped the winter cold from entering any more.
Kiku navigated to his room in the far back of the house and tossed his backpack by the desk, all the while placing the package on top of it. He found that the box was rather heavy and assumed for it to perhaps be some sort of new collection of books—if it was for him, of course.
Lying down on his bed, Kiku stared at the crisp paint job of his ceiling, wishing to sleep and maybe awake from this dream. On the other side of the room, a primly wrapped gift was left untouched on his desk to collect dust.
7. Puzzle Pieces
The sun rose, it sank. The moon rose, it sank. The steady rhythm of these two celestial bodies continued on and will continue on, even behind the blinds that prevented their light from entering. What only filtered through were strips of stray brightness that fell upon the clean wooden flooring, illuminating what it possibly could. Particles floated and danced in the fragments of air that slipped through the blinds with nothing to disrupt them. The stillness of the room emanated a sense of serenity, for nothing arose in wishes of disturbance.
As to juxtapose along this room was its owner, who sat in his revolving chair with his hands engrossed in work. Stacks of books were piled to the side of his desk as he rigorously wrote on, the pen almost attaining a pattern of its own. Like most days, he was alone in the house with only his abstract mind as his company. It was just that the recent days have been too hectic for his brain to function properly, so after propping himself back up on his desk with several textbooks at hand, he was able to turn the gears once more. Back into its usual rational self, thankfully.
Unlike when school is in session, Kiku was not all too aware with time or date. At this moment, it should most likely be some days nearing on Christmas, though that is nothing of importance for him to regard anyway. He has not much else to do, nowhere to go, and the entire house was empty of any other breathing object. No complaints need to be uttered, and should a response be obligatory, it would be of a calm sigh and nothing more. Vacation was a good time to advance in schoolwork, and he considered that it would be an attentive idea of him to bring his textbooks along. |
eaabe061da184930aab28e0087ebe47e | ['fdf5d7bb3fe74843b9ed24a036bc48ff'] | "But you said..." Derek trails off. "You said you were a package deal. I thought you were going to talk to Stiles about _us three_ becoming a package deal. These last couple of weeks, I thought that was us feeling things out. Eating together, hanging out, going to the movies? Was that not what it was?"
Derek looks so crestfallen that Scott wants to punch himself in the face. How did he manage to inadvertently make Derek think that?
"Wait," Stiles says. "That's something you'd be into? Dating both of us? All of us dating each other?"
"I mean, I didn't know at first," Derek says. "I've never done anything like that before. But I really liked spending time with both of you together. I could see why you loved each other, and I was even starting to see how I might be able to fit in." He gives a sad little laugh.
Scott looks at Stiles, eyes wide, and Stiles is staring back. The good thing about being friends so long is that they really can communicate without speaking sometimes. Stiles raises his eyebrows. Scott cocks his head hopefully. They both nod.
"No wonder you're an honors student," Scott says, "because you're brilliant."
"Scotty speaks the truth," Stiles says with an almost frighteningly wide grin. "I like to believe I'm the kind of guy who thinks outside the box, but I never would have thought of this outside my fantasies."
"Do you want to be in a threesome with us?" Scott asks, then cringes. "Wait, that sounds like we just want to have sex with you. A three-way relationship? Does that sound any better?"
"Not really," Stiles says.
"A triad," Derek says quietly.
"A triad?" Scott asks.
"Yeah," Derek says with a shy nod. "I looked it up, when I thought that's what you wanted. Is it? What you want?"
Scott looks to Stiles, and they nod in tandem.
"I think so," Scott says at the same time Stiles says, "I'm game."
"Oh," Derek says, sounding taken aback, but Scott figures it was kind of wild ride the past five minutes. Eventually the corners of Derek's mouth curl up, and something warm and spicy blooms in his scent. "Okay then. How does this work?"
Scott looks at Stiles, his best friend and so much more since childhood, who he's never so much as kissed. Then he looks at Derek, who he'd slept with before even knowing his name. There's no way it's going to be like any relationship he's ever imagined.
He shrugs and smiles. "I guess we find out together." | 5f1fedc7aebc4f6e8223b0c0de110e8d | ['fdf5d7bb3fe74843b9ed24a036bc48ff'] | "You get used to the smell," Scott says distractedly, wondering whether Derek could tell how excited Scott was to see him again. Should he be embarrassed about that when Derek seemed just as happy?
"Not the point," Stiles says flopping down on Scott's bed. "Do you think you'll ask him out? Or maybe he'll ask you out? Or was it purely sexual between you? You never told me who put the moves on who during your little wolfy holiday."
"It was pretty mutual," Scott says with an awkward shrug. Stiles has always seemed comfortable talking to Scott about sex, but Scott's felt weirder about it since they started sharing a dorm room and Scott started knowing what Stiles sounds like when he comes, even when he tries to be really quiet. "We were all kind of high on adrenaline, and we'd been running together, and it just happened. It was like gravity or something. It felt natural."
It really had. The moon had had been a heavy burden all fall and spring semester, making Scott feel itchy and restless in the chafing claustrophobia of campus living. Finally being free on the first full moon of summer - paired with the excitement of being with so many other wolves - gave him an almost electric feeling of freedom. He felt weightless as he ran barefoot through the woods.
Scott hadn't known his name at the time, but Derek had kept pace with him and grinned widely when they met each other's eyes. Then he took off, daring Scott to chase him. When Scott caught him, Derek let Scott wrestle him onto his back, eyes shining blue in the moonlight before Scott kissed him, open-mouthed and fierce. Before Derek spread his legs and let Scott between them. Before Scott opened their jeans and brought them off together, leaves stuck in Derek's hair as he threw his head back and bared his neck for Scott to bite at.
"Dude," Stiles says. "I don't have a super-sniffer, but I'm thinking maybe you need some alone time?" Stiles cocks his head toward Scott's lap, and Scott hits him with a pillow, muffling him when Stiles says, "I could help you with that."
It's not like Stiles means it anyway.
\----
When Stiles sets his tray down next to Scott's in the cafeteria the next morning, Derek's with him.
"Derek and I bonded last night," Stiles announces. "I find his grumpy bunny impression adorable, so I can deal with the rest of his overall--" Stiles waves his hands in Derek's general direction "--flawlessness."
Derek's eyebrows do a confused dance. "He wouldn't let me sleep until I told him my version of our 'meet cute,'" he says, looking like the phrase leaves a bad taste in his mouth.
"You left out some very naughty details, Scotty," Stiles says, and his eyebrows do their own, suggestive dance.
"I didn't give him any details about that!" Derek says.
The earnest look on Derek's face is so cute it warms something in Scott's chest and he can't do anything but grin at Derek.
"Ugh, you guys are gross," Stiles says, a curl of bitterness in his scent as he shoves his chair back from the table. "I'm going to make myself a waffle."
He's gone before Scott can stop him, and Derek watches him go with a mix of confusion and amusement on his face.
"I'm getting some serious mixed signals from that guy," Derek says.
"We've never liked the same person at the same time before," Scott muses, watching Stiles skid to a stop in front of the waffle iron, beating out a girl who'd been making a beeline for it too. "I don't think he knows how to handle it."
"I really hope the person you're talking about is me," Derek says. Hopeful is a good look on him. Then again, everything is probably a good look on him.
Scott laughs. "It's a safe assumption."
"So he doesn't know how to handle it. Do you?" Derek asks.
Scott wishes he had an easy answer, but he's at a loss. "Not yet," he confesses. "We're kind of a package deal. I never want to do anything to put my relationship with Stiles at risk, so I don't know. I'll give it some time, talk to him. See if us dating is something he'd be cool with."
Derek's eyebrows draw together. "Okay," he says, nodding slowly. "Yeah, okay. I've never-- but that sounds like a good idea."
"Cool," Scott says. It's not a perfect solution, but it leaves the door open.
"Cool," Derek agrees.
\----
They keep sitting together in the caf for breakfast and dinner most days, although their lunchtimes don't always line up. On this day they do.
"What _is_ that?" Stiles asks, poking at something on Derek's tray.
It's a fair question. Derek has the healthiest diet Scott's seen at college - or possibly in his life - and Stiles apparently can't get over it. Derek always seems to pick the food everyone else in the cafeteria avoids.
"Quinoa salad," Derek says. "I guess I don't have to ask if you're going to be eating pizza at dinner for the fifth night in a row."
Stiles sticks out his tongue, then crams half a hot dog inside his mouth. "I'm a growing boy," he says around a half-chewed mouthful. "Pizza is an essential food group for my growth."
Derek shakes his head but smiles into a truly bland-looking forkful of healthiness.
"If you knew this guy in high school you wouldn't be surprised," Scott says. "Once when his dad was out of town for a week, I swear he ate nothing but pizza and pizza pockets."
"That's a lie!" Stiles says. "I also ate a lot of Froot Loops and ice cream."
"Oh my god," Derek laughs. "How are you still alive?"
"How do you have all those muscles eating that rabbit food?" Stiles shoots back.
"I have muscles _because_ of the rabbit food." |
964fed209caa489ca519a8459b71a2f5 | ['fe0aac5a1df845f7af761b8d99f98ad5'] | “Yeah. We still have that list for Tae, but nothing for Jimin.”
“Jiminie is laid up at home.” Hobi spoke up, much to the surprise of everyone. Everyone except Namjoon, it seemed.
“I take it you’ve been keeping track of him?”
“Mm. One of the channels I get airs local boxing, so I get to see him sometimes. I don’t know why but he was taken off the rosters for down time, or something. He lived in Hillview Complexes last I heard.”
“Great. Let’s head there then!” Jin spoke cheerfully. The happiness of Hoseok was contagious, and the growing number of his friends seem to fill something in him that had been achingly empty for a long time. He punched in the address, and away they went. Small chit chat and bags rustling filled the car as everyone caught up, shared stories and events until they reached the complex. It looked especially run down for a mid class area, much to their dismay. They didn’t want to think of any of their other friends suffering.
“Well, I guess we just… ask if he’s there?” Jin questioned to no one in particular as he stepped out of the car and walked to the leasing office, thankfully open by this time. He stepped in, looking around as everyone else followed suit. The man sitting behind the desk looked far too well to do for working in such an area.
“Hello, welcome to Hillview! How can I help you?” He asked, grinning a blindingly white smile at them. Jin stepped forward, grinning just as bright.
“Hello! I was wondering if you could help us, a friend told us his address but not what building he’s in.”
“Hmm. I don’t think I can give you the building like that. I can certainly try to call them for you, though, to let them know you’re here.”
“Ahh, that’d be just fine.”
“Alright. One moment.” The man reached over, pulling a corded phone up to his ear. “I’ll tell them Kim Seokjin and friends are here to visit, yes?” He asked. Jin internally grimaced. Of course he already knew his name.
“Yes, yes, that’s fine.”
“Who are you looking for?”
“Park Jimin?” As Jin said the name, a grim look crossed the man’s face and he set down the phone. Jin’s heart sank.
“Ahh. I’m very sorry, but, Park Jimin was hospitalized not long ago.”
11. Interlude I
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> We hit a milestone! Thank you for all the support, I honestly didn't expect to get any sort of response on this, let alone the excited one I've received.
> I'm sure this isn't exactly what you're looking for after that cliffhanger, but I have a series of interludes planned that will hopefully give a better insight into the world and events leading up to the current moment~ They'll be published at certain milestones!
> Hope you enjoy! OH ALSO
> TW: Attempted suicide and abuse mentions
Yoongi laid absently on the yellowing mattress, blanket shoved to the side. Soft clicks filled the room as he flicked the lighter in his hand open and closed. He should take a shower. He really should take a shower, but the thought of moving was a bit overwhelming, especially when he knew how cold the water would be at this point. It was all too much, why did he think doing that would be a good idea? Sitting at that piano, far too nice and expensive for anyone in this district to afford, it didn’t fill him with the sense of relief he had hoped for. Breaking the window to the store that was stolen from his mother felt somewhat cathartic, at least. Yes, stolen, he told himself, it didn’t matter if she was gone.
Sighing deeply, Yoongi finally pulled himself up. With the same effort as Atlas holding up the world, he swung his legs to the floor and stood up, walking stiffly to the bathroom.
Jin stood under the warm stream of water, forcing himself to relax. This was quickly foiled as the bathroom door flung open. Through the fogged glass, he could clearly tell it was his manager.
“You’re still in the shower? Hurry it up, Seokjin. You have lessons in 10 minutes, an interview at 7, and concert at 8.” He spoke gruffly before storming out. Jin only just barely held back the retort that he had been in the shower for a total of about 5 minutes. If he was late for lessons, they would just have to deal. He knew very well he wasn’t getting anything out of them anymore. It had turned into a way to consistently erode his already small self esteem, nothing he ever did was good enough. But God forbid he ever even subtly, politely request a different teacher. It was still entirely possible to send a grown man to bed without dinner, apparently. He sighed once more, deciding to take a few extra minutes under the water.
Yoongi stepped out, letting himself drip dry. How long had he stood under the frigid water? At least it numbed his body as much as his mind was. He had no soap left, of course, but that didn’t matter. He knew what he was going to do. Wouldn’t matter if he smelled nice or not. Still damp, he shrugged his clothes on, cringing slightly at the way the dirty cloth stuck to his wet body. He wouldn’t have much time before the cops came. He’d have to move quick.
“Hurry up.” His manager scolded. Jin could tell that the man would gladly hit him if the fear of leaving a mark wasn’t there. He always bruised easily. “You’re already late. Do you need someone to teach you how to walk, too?” Jin just gritted his teeth and walked along. | e17a1ce0fdf542318719058e514aab9e | ['fe0aac5a1df845f7af761b8d99f98ad5'] | He wasn’t entirely sure what he was thinking, what he expected to happen, what the end goal was. But he found himself running like his life depended on it towards the opening of the mountain, the entrance of the city. Aided by his vampiric status, he ran and ran and ran, continuing past the border, past the streams of water out front, past the thick border of the forest. He ran until he could no more, but by then, he realized- He had no idea where he was. Tall, thick trees towered over him, obscuring the sky, though even without them it would be dark. It was night. There was one question answered.
Panting slightly despite being aided in his run by vampiric magic, he looked around as if the forest would have some sort of road sign pointing his way back. Despite the absurdity of the hope, he could feel his shoulders slump as there was nothing to be found. He could hardly even see the moon through the thick canopy of the old growth above. Pursing his lips slightly, he walked on in what he thought was the direction he came, in what he thought was a straight line. After God knows how long, though, he started to realize the area he was in looked very familiar, yet no less dense. He had just managed to go in a huge circle. Still he tried again, making marks in some trees as he went, yet sure enough he managed to stumble upon his own marks time and time again.
It wouldn’t be long until morning, he figured, and he had no protection at all. He became frantic for a moment before stilling. He was alone. There would be no shame in it.
He broke down sobbing.
His cries and shouts echoed around him almost cruelly, as if the forest was trying to mock him. Yoongi crumpled into a ball on the forest floor, gradually pulling himself over to a basin created by the roots of a particularly large tree. It was strangely comforting, and he slowly calmed down. It felt as though he was being held. Almost too much. Were those roots so close to him before? Yoongi finally uncurled slightly and looked up, expecting to see only tree. What he didn’t expect was the face of a girl smiling gently down at him, bushy hair framing her almost ethereally beautiful face, holding him like a mother would her child.
The comforting feeling vanished right then and there. He made a strange noise of surprise and scrambled up and away, stumbling over himself. In his panic, he had never considered the fact that the forest would have other denizens, but he never would have thought any of them would be humanoid like this. She didn’t seem offended at all, almost as if she expected it, and slowly stood up. It was with great confusion that Yoongi noticed the lower half of her body was in the tree- or rather, it was the tree. She slowly seemed to materialize more humanoid legs, separating herself from the tree to walk over to him.
“Hello, young one.” She spoke in such a warm tone it almost made him melt. “I’m sorry if I startled you. You seemed distraught, I thought it would be best to let you get it all out before saying anything.”
“Who- what- who are you?” He finally managed to ask.
“My name is Calendula. You did manage to come to my tree on your own, so I hope it wasn’t too strange.” Her brow furrowed with concern.
“Of course not, being cradled by strange women in a forest is totally normal.”
“Yes, I figured.” She sighed. “But I wouldn’t feel right just… leaving you to cry against me alone.”
“Against-?”
“Oh. Yes. I’m sorry, I thought you knew. This is my tree.” She waved generally towards the tree he had curled up against. He seemed no less confused.
“I figured when you seemed to just magically appear from the it.” The sarcasm in his voice transferred his confusion to her.
“Yes? I’m sorry, um, is magic… unfamiliar to you? I believe you’re a vampire, yes? Are you from a human city?”
“What?” Yoongi’s face contorted as he struggled to understand what was going on. “No- well, yes- but no- what are you?” The girl’s face lit up with realization.
“Oh! I’m so sorry! I assumed you knew. I’m a dryad, a nymph of the trees, who has lived in this forest for generations of men.”
“Oh.” Yoongi replied lamely. Calendula smiled again and held a hand out to him.
“Come, the sun will rise soon.”
“Wait, wait.” He regarded the hand with suspicion. “Don’t dryads… you’re just going to try to seduce me and lead me to some weird fairy world.”
“Huh?” She withdrew a little, visibly confused. “What? Do I… I know that perhaps holding you was a little strange, but I didn’t think…”
“That’s what the myths say you do?” He said as if it was a question.
“Oh. I figured a vampire of all people would know myths and stories aren’t always accurate.” She held her hand out again. “The sun will be up soon. We need to get you somewhere safe.”
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“I had plenty of opportunity to hurt you already, why would I do so now? We don’t have time for this, the sun-”
“It’s not like it’ll kill me. Hurt like hell… but maybe I deserve that.” He mumbled the last part of his sentence. Calendula looked down at him with concern. She must of heard. |
4979fba4d19b4fb3adfd2f27e02ec744 | ['fe0d0032862a436e8b219cae3d450664'] | As the voices of the others slowly got quieter, the ones in his head got louder. Terrified screams echoed inside his mind. Images started flashing behind his eyelids. Images of his mother, of the undead. His breathing got faster, quickly turning erratic. He heard her screams, screams for him inside his head. He couldn´t breathe, a nod formed inside his throat. With a quiet yelp, he ripped open his eyes. The hay attic was dark and silent. Mark couldn´t hear anything except for the faint breathing of the others. The waves of panic inside of him ebbed away slowly and he was able to calm his heart and breathing. He was tired but the adrenalin prevented his eyes from closing again.
Trying not to make any sound and wake the others, he rose from his hay mountain and stepped onto the wooden floor. Donghyuck was at the other end of the barn, at the “vigil-window”, as he had explained Mark earlier and was probably the only one awake right now. Carefully Mark started shuffling towards his destination, which wasn´t easy thanks to the creaky flooring and the darkness. He made out the contour of Jisung’s sleeping body after he rounded his own hay mountain and saw luckily the faint flickering of Donghyuck’s oil lamp.
After rounding another hay corner, he was spotted Donghyuck´s silhouette sitting in front of him looking out of a small window. Next to him stood a seemingly rotatable telescope, probably for a better overview of the surroundings. The boy turned around and met Mark’s eyes.
“Can’t sleep huh?”
Mark sighed and nodded, sending the other a small smile. Donghyuck patted the space next to him for Mark to sit down who complied immediately.
Donghyuck faced the window again, “You know”, he whispered gingerly, “I actually don´t mind being on vigil. I can’t sleep most nights anyway.”
Mark hummed with understanding and let his gaze wander over the dark field outside the window.
“Do you have nightmares too?” asked Donghyuck, carefully peering through his long lashes at Mark.
“I’ve only started getting them”, Mark steadied his voice, “after what happened with my mom and-“, his voice broke.
Donghyuck squeezed his shoulder encouragingly: “You don’t have to tell me, Mark. But if you’re ready or need someone to talk I’m here, okay?”
Mark looked at Donghyuck. He was smiling brightly and friendly and Mark felt his heart do a summersault.
Mark tore his gaze away and nodded looking at the ground.
“My parents died when I was just a few years old”, began Donghyuck with a monotonous voice.
Mark whipped his head back towards the other, his eyes big and in shock. He wanted to know more about Donghyuck but didn’t know whether he was ready for a tragic story. But he let him go on.
“They died in an accident in the fabric they´ve worked in, in the safe city. My grandparents took me in after that.”
A sad smile graced the boy’s soft features and he looked off into the distance, like he was somewhere far away, in a different time.
“They had a beautiful farmhouse. Not very big, but beautiful and it was far away from the undead flocks. We thought we were safe, that the government would rot out the undead before they´d reach us and until I was like fifteen or sixteen, I actually grew up without any undead-encounters. But the government never got the undead under control and they´ve appeared more and more frequently around the farmhouse. It never became a problem though. Grandpa and I kept us safe.”
Donghyuck let out an amused chuckle and Mark could tell he was reliving the fond memories inside his mind.
“We were safe until the SM clan attacked us”, snapped the other suddenly, his expression bitter and cold. “They raided all our supplies, food, weapons - just everything. My grandpa tried to fight, but-“
His voice broke and he clenched his hand into a tight fist. Mark was more than unsure what to do but carefully and ever so gently took Donghyuck’s fist into his own hand. The other looked up at him with surprise written all over his face. Mark sent him an uncertain smile, trying to tell him it was okay. Donghyuck seemed to get his message and unclenched his fist and his lips curled ever so slightly upwards.
“Anyways”, Donghyuck continued, now with a steady voice again, but not letting go of Mark´s hand.
“The clan took me with them but left my grandparents behind. They were too old to contribute anything to the clan or some bullshit.”
Mark caressed Donghyuck´s hand gently with his thumb: “That is indeed bullshit.”
Donghyuck hummed.
“I wanted to die. Life in the clan was horrible. They beat you unconscious if you don´t follow orders, they kill people trying to rebel and if you don´t have an important rank you´re treated like shit no matter how well you follow their orders.”
Donghyuck’s pretty features crumbled up in disgust.
“I saw a lot of horrible shit happening during that time.”
Mark could imagine the horror the other must have lived through by the way his voice and expression oozed loathing.
“The only good thing that happened to me was meeting Jaemin.”
Mark perked up in surprise. He didn´t see that coming. He knew the boys must have had some sort of backstory but somehow didn´t expect this to come anyways.
“How did you meet?”
“Well”, Donghyuck sighed heavy-hearted,”Jaemin’s uncle is actually one of the leaders of the clan.”
Mark gasped in shook. He definitely hadn’t expected this.
“Jaemin had lived his whole life in the clan and he hated it just as much as I did. So we clicked pretty fast”, recalled Donghyuck with a smirk.
Mark couldn´t help but smile back but he still had so many questions.
“How did you to get away from the clan?”, asked Mark the other with confusion laced in his voice, “or did they just let you go?” | bc4a6ef27f204dcf9bbd29db7e4e355c | ['fe0d0032862a436e8b219cae3d450664'] | Donghyuck chuckled and shook his head in amusement.
“Oh Mark”, he couldn´t stop giggling, and Mark regretted asking an apparently obviously stupid question,” I wish it would have been that easy.”
The boy finally calmed down and started playing with Mark´s hand that was still wrapped around the others.
“There are basically only four things you need to know about the SM clan”, he looked up suddenly voice all serious and eyes cold.
“They’re ruthless, they´re dangerous, you better stay away as far as you can from them and once you´re a member, they never let you go.”
Mark shuddered and replied quietly:” But you two made it!”
Donghyuck nodded, now with a tiny smug smile.
“Jaemin and I planned for months. Thanks to Jaemin’s basically lifelong knowledge about the clan we were able to flee. But they´ve searched for us for weeks, wanted us dead and probably still want us dead, but we´ve stumbled across Jisung, Jeno and Renjun and have been safe ever since.”
Donghyuck shot him a smile, still playing nervously with Mark´s fingers.
“I´m so glad you were safe with the others and I’m so glad I found you guys”, murmured Mark, involuntarily blushing faintly.
Donghyuck cooed and patted his hand: “You´re safe here too now, Markie.”
Mark perked up - ‘Markie’. His blush only intensified, and he stuttered out a weak: “Markie? Really?”
Donghyuck grinned, intertwining their fingers again: “Yes, really Markie.”
Mark shook his head and looked out of the window, trying to hide his flaming red cheeks. Hopefully, the dim lighting would help conceal it even more, but going by Donghyuck’s teasingly glinting eyes, it probably didn´t work out.
Suddenly Donghyuck whipped his head towards the window. Mark scrunched his eyebrows together in worry and tried to detect what mad the other boy perk up. Donghyuck let go (to Mark´s disappointment) of his hand and grabbed the telescope, spying through it.
“There´s an undead.”
Mark hissed out a shocked what, feeling a rush of panic flood his body. He really didn’t want to find some hungry undead in the middle of the night. Not after feeling safe the whole day.
As if he had noticed Mark’s panic, Donghyuck let go of the telescope with one hand and reached for his hand again. Mark grabbed it tightly, the warmth immediately calming him.
Still peering through the telescope lens Donghyuck muttered calmly: “It´s far away, we probably don´t have to worry about it.”
Despite Donghyuck´s affirming words he felt his heart still beat rapidly. So, he did the only reasonable thing and slid a bit closer to the other boy. Donghyuck shot him a quick questioning glance but focused on the undead again watching its every move.
“What are you going to do if it comes too close?”
“If it ignores the barn and just walks past it´s not a danger, but if it still has some consciousness left and tries to get inside, I´ll shoot it.”
Mark cocked his head. It made sense, but wouldn´t a shot make too much noise?
“Won´t the shot attract more undead or the SM clan?”
Now Donghyuck turned his head towards him and grinned in a way that made Mark´s insides tingle. The other nodded towards the ground next to him and turned back to the telescope without saying anything. Mark followed the direction Donghyuck had nodded at and spotted - a bow with arrows. Of course, Donghyuck had to have the most extra ass weapons.
Mark snorted amused and stared at the boy beside him fondly.
“It disappeared into the forest”, Donghyuck declared, turning his head and reciprocating the stare, “at least for now.”
Mark let out a relieved sigh and only now noticed how heavy his eyelids actually had turned. He let out a deep yawn that brought tears to his eyes. After the tears had seeped back into his tear glands, he noticed Donghyuck sending him a stare Mark couldn´t decipher. But it was somewhat fond and amused.
“You can try to catch some sleep if you want. You don´t have to stay awake because of me.”
Mark really wanted to sleep, but he was scared. Scared of seeing and hearing his mother.
“I’m scared of the nightmares”, was all he mumbled nearly inaudible.
But Donghyuck caught it and didn´t waste any second stretching out his legs and patting them.
“You”, started the boy, suddenly turning sheepish, “you can sleep here… So you won´t be alone since I´m here.”
Mark, suddenly totally overcome by the incredible urge to sleep, felt too tired to be embarrassed or feel anything besides sleepy and just nodded compliantly. He laid down in Donghyuck’s lap, still holding the others hand and closed his exhausted eyes. He felt Donghyuck stroke through his probably dirty hair and drifted further off and off.
The last things he perceived before drifting off into a dreamless slumber was Donghyuck’s one hand in his, Donghyuck’s other hand in his hair and a quiet ‘Night Markie.’
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> leave some kudos and comments pls?
> also i´m really motivated to write because i have FINALLY worked out the whole plot!
> so maybe, there´ll be soon a chapter??
>
> n e ways ,,, yell at me on twt @hyuckira :)
**Author's Note:**
> PLEAsE give me feedback (bad, good, idc, just ANY)
> oh and if you find spelling errors, pls be my beta reader because i´m literally to blind to see them lol
> the next chapter might be up next week?? but don´t take my word for granted
>
> hit me up on twt @hyuckira |
b85cd61870344366983241475f9a73e6 | ['fe1a68f6cbef4997aa0fe06c017b5bc9'] | Travis balled his fists, not wanting to fight but trying to stand his ground."When does my program end then?! I want a solid answer! And if I don't get it, I'll--"
"You'll what?"
"I'll break your fucking face." Travis growled, standing firm.
Red paused, though the boy was skinny, he had proven time and time again what kind of damage he could do."September 20th is when your program ends, Travis."
"It needs to be earlier. My first term of college starts on August 12th. I have a scholarship that'll be tossed if I can't be home by then." Travis' expression dropped, he needed to be home so much sooner than what he could be let out.
"September 20th. That's my final decision." Red took a long drag off his cigarette before putting it out," now let's get you back inside before you miss afternoon study."
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> kind of a short chapter, i'm sitting on like three different chapters for this fic that i'm writing all at once bc i can't just write one at a time lol
> enjoy
7. It's A Date
It was an unusually sunny day in Nockfell, even the light smaug that surrounded the town from the factories cleared up. It was a day for sneaking out, which wasn’t hard when his father was out of town for a religious conference upstate. His mother eagerly let him leave the house when Sal came to collect him for a day out.
“Have fun boys! Stay safe!” She called after them.” Sal, you look after my boy!”
“I will Miss Sophie.” Sal promised as he went towards the elevator with Travis. He wasn’t afraid of anyone seeing them, so he hung on tightly to Travis’ hand. It was cute, every few steps, Travis would glance down and see Sal doing his excited head bobbles, making his pigtails sway side to side.
He couldn’t help but stare as they rode the elevator down to the lobby. And when he was caught, he just smiled. He could tell Sal was smiling back by the way his eyes squinted, expressive as always. Travis still hadn’t seen beneath his mask, he was always blindfolded or vision blocked from Sal’s face, the curiosity ate at him, even if Sal told him how grotesque his face was.
He was so focused on Sal that he didn't realize the doors had opened to the lobby and the blue haired teen was leading him out. Larry was in the lobby grabbing the mail for his mom.
"Johnson, keys!" Sal held out his hands as Larry responded, tossing his keys to his Jeep to the other.
"Don't get her stuck!" Larry chuckled softly." Have fun you two."
"You're not coming with?" Travis asked.
The brunette shook his head and shrugged," Gotta hold down the fort." Before heading to the elevator," I'll see y'all later though."
Sal twirled the keys on his finger, triumphant that he had even caught them. Travis was in awe almost, Sal hated driving, so wherever they were going must be out of town.
Travis hopped into the passenger seat without question. He'd come accustomed to sitting there. There were so many days where Larry would call him up just to go for a drive. It felt like nothing could stop them; it felt like two kids running away to be together. With Sal it was no different, watching him fix his hair back into a ponytail so it didn't get in his face.
Sal carefully pulled out a pair of glasses from a case, the left lens was missing.
"Only one?" Travis looked at Sal with that curious look of his.
"Uh, glass eye, remember?" He answered, adjusting the seat and steering wheel." You should, I've taken it out in front of you before."
"Oh right!" The blonde gasped." Our first sleepover."
"I was surprised you didn't faint." Sal laughed, finally starting the Jeep after all the readjustments.
The first time he stayed out all night with Larry and Sal, they were in the tree house. Travis was far too nervous to venture too far from home just in case his father went looking for him. Sal tried to hide it, but had to take out his glass eye because it was irritating him. Travis at first didn't register what had happened until he saw the fake eye in Sal's hand, ready to be put up for the night.
"Where are you taking me?" Travis asked as soon as he saw the exit for the highway.
"I'm not ruining the surprise, but I got the okay from your mom for an overnight trip." Sal told him," Just enjoy the ride, Fisher-Johnson."
Travis couldn't help but smile, he absolutely hated his last name, to the point he was considering taking his mother's maiden name when he had the funds for a name change. Hearing Sal call him the combined last names had him hearing wedding bells. A real future that he previously thought impossible.
While he daydreamed of a future with Sal and Larry, Sal focused on the road. He didn't drive often due to only having one working eye. He drove when Larry got too wasted, or when he needed to go somewhere that was further than walking distance. Larry trusted him, far more than anyone else to be extra cautious with his beloved Jeep. It was still terrifying, Sal needed someone to help read road signs, even with his glasses.
"Tell me when you see the exit sign for East City." Sal spoke up after a while.
"Okay." Travis nodded. Sal was so different from Larry when driving. Larry was relaxed, usually one hand on the steering wheel and the other on whoever was in the passenger seat. Sal had both hands firmly on the wheel, only letting go to shift gears every so often. | 8b0ee3c5c56340b3b1b1e2c1fb59faeb | ['fe1a68f6cbef4997aa0fe06c017b5bc9'] | "I've worked too hard to denounce the violent homophobic teachings of my father, I've worked countless hours to correct my thoughts and find acceptance within myself. I wouldn't be who I am without my boyfriends' help." He looks Red in the eyes," As far as I'm concerned, this place is hell and you're Satan himself. Mr. Deamic, just what kind of monster uses religion to defend their business practice? What possibly could you gain from publicity of suicidal kids and murderous parents? Doesn't that sound an awful like the big guy downstairs?"
Red sighs, there was no beating around the bush with Travis. No one had ever admitted to his face that they believed him to be a demon. Travis had a fire in his eyes like he just scooby-doo'd Red to admit he was a monster. Something about this kid was bothersome, and while he thought this would be an easy buyout, he was sorely mistaken.
"I'm no Satan, Travis." Red grabs a pen off his desk and fiddles with it," as long as you and I understand each other…"
"I gotcha loud and clear, Red. Unfortunately for you, I'm going to continue to be a problem for your staff."
\---
"PHELPS!" Red yelling became a common theme, mostly it was at Travis. Despite he supposed favoritism over the defiant boy, Travis knew how to get under his skin.
"Your louder than my coach." Travis responded nonchalantly. He faced Red and saw his calm expression. It wasn't an angry visit it seemed," lemme guess, your office?"
"Let's take a walk, Mr. Phelps."
Travis was led right out of the building and past every security checkpoint on the grounds. Surprisingly, he found that they were in a camp setting. There were cabins and campers all enjoying the summer breeze, there was even a lake. As they walked by each camper greeted Red with a smile.
Travis recognized the campers as the ones who passed their programs, all successfully brainwashed into believing they were cured and spent the summer outside. The councilors he didn't recognize, they must be strictly outside to help keep the allusion.
Red brought him to the far side of the lake, away from prying ears. It was peaceful, in the distance Travis could see happy campers swimming and out on boats. It was just like in the pamphlet his mother showed him.
"Why are you showing me this?" He asked. His stomach churned, brainwashed kids having fun assuming that's what they've been doing all summer.
"Despite our differences, Travis, I like you. You see through all the bullshit." Red admitted, lighting up a cigarette," you know exactly what I'm doing before I even know what I'm doing! Your father may be a religious nut, but I've seen you at work. Your every move has been monitored since you started that riot at orientation."
"No shit, I figured it was too easy with all the shit I've been getting away with."
"Now, I may not be in this business for the right reasons, but I see what you've done. Sneaking snacks to those who were denied food, offering comfort when our punishments are too harsh on the other kids." Red looked out over the lake," Breaking into other dorms to prevent suicides, staying up all night with those on watch. You're not a bad kid, you never were."
"I'm a terror to the staff." Travis shrugs.
The older man laughed," my staff are instructed to avoid you. I've seen the footage. I watched you break up fights between guards and campers. I've seen the way you fight my counselors, you never hit unarmed staff unless they give you a reason. You fight with words more than you do fists. A modern day Saint."
"Then I don't see why I'm still here. And I most certainly don't see why you like me." The blonde took a step away from him. The lake reminded him of home, and who was waiting for him there.
He didn't listen to Red as he continued to talk, his focus was on the water as he approached. The reflection wasn't him, short dull brown hair stuck up every which way. He was sure the guards would chase him down to shave it off again. He looked so tired, more so than usual, and thin. He hadn't been this thin since freshman year. His clothes looked like they were holding on by sheer willpower not to completely fall off. He didn't look like himself.
It brought tears to his eyes that he'd become a shell. So concerned with helping others he forgot himself in the process. What happened in the two months he'd been kept here? Where did the time go? All he could see was freshman Travis; a scared kid with his first crush.
He turned to face Red," I want an early release."
He must've interrupted an important monologue because Red stopped mid gesture and smiled," And just what would be in it for me?"
"I've done all my classes, finished every bit of fucking sheet work, excel in my Bible studies, I think I should be due for an early release." Travis reasoned." I'd be out of your hair, no more problems, no more counselors injured. I just want to go home and be with the people who truly care about me."
"You're cute, Mr. Phelps." Red chuckled." I don't run my business by giving failures such as yourself early releases. Besides, I can't send you home like this. Campers must look cared for. You go home a twig and people might start asking what my camp really does to it's campers."
"You just said I was a Saint!" He argued.
"Be that as it may! Your father gave me instructions to not let you out early, Mr. Phelps!" Red raised his voice slightly. |
1614bb2b66934762a12e55457a04e022 | ['fe2a63269bb44cb096eb698e071c22c5'] | Only now he looked around and realised that he had no idea where he was. It was dark, but Akaashi couldn't tell if that was because it got late or because the trees blocked out the sunlight.
The only light was provided from the river. It gave off a slight glow, softly lightening its surroundings.
Anyways, he had been dumb. He just had stormed blindly into any direction. Not looking where his path went. Thinking about the situation, Akaashi remembered the words the villagers had whispered behind his back and his head started to hurt.
Why?
Why did they all hate him?
He didn't do anything wrong, and yet they wished him to leave.
Or worse, they wished for his death.
Akaashi felt the tears welling up in his eyes again and quickly blinked them away. He didn't want to cry again. So he started to think of his mother.
Back then, when she was still alive and everything was so much better. He had had someone who had loved him unconditionally. Made him laugh. He remembered how she would read books to him or tell him stories about far away countries and adventures.
A smile appeared on Akaashi's face.
But as he was indulging himself in pleasant memories, he didn't hear anything that was happening around him until a twig cracked right behind him. Akaashi whipped around, his eyes open in surprise and fear, his heart now racing.
Over him hovered a man. It was too dark to see more than this, even if Akaashi squinted. The man stopped when Akaashi looked at him. who used that opportunity to quickly get up. The man wasn't much taller than he was, Akaashi realised.
The weird man whistled.
“I've never seen you around before. Are you a spirit?”
There it was again.
_Spirit._
Normally Akaashi would've ignored it. But this time, he snapped:
“I'M _NOT_ A SPIRIT! QUIT SAYING THAT ALREADY!”
The man backed away.
“Then... what are you?”
“A human like everyone else. Now go and leave me alone!”
It was weird, Akaashi registered. It was dark, too dark to make out any facial features of that strange man. And yet he could see that he was grinning. He could _feel_ it.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I am!”
“No, I mean... are you sure about the _everyone else_ part?”
“What do you mean?”
The weird man took a step forward and flapped his wings Akaashi only now noticed.
He blinked. Once. Twice.
“Holy shit.”
Akaashi quickly covered his mouth with his hand and took a step back in fear.
The man grinned at his reaction.
“My name is Koutarou, and I'm an owl spirit.”
2. Maybe it's not the spirits...
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> After finally being freed of stupid school assignments I managed to finish this chapter.
> Have fun!
Akaashi stumbled backwards. His eyes were wide in fear and his heart was beating rapidly.
A spirit. There was a real spirit standing in front of him. Akaashi couldn't move. There was no way he could outrun him. Not if he was a spirit, and especially not if he had wings. Behind him was just the river. Its slight glow illuminated the spirits – Koutarou's – face, making his grin look threatening.
The spirit took a step towards him.
“Hey, did you hear me? I'm Koutarou, an owl spirit! And who are you?”
“Akaashi, a human,” Akaashi managed to say, his voice trembling slightly. He still couldn't believe that he ended up running into the spirits' forest.
Koutarou licked his lips.
“So, what are you doing here, Akaashi? Did you get lost in here?”
“Maybe it's not me who's lost but you,” Akaashi blurted out. He figured that if he couldn't outrun the spirit, he could try to outsmart him. Confuse Koutarou. Somehow make him leave.
Unfortunately the spirit didn't seem like he wanted to leave.
Koutarou drew his eyebrows together and put a finger to his chin.
“You're right. I may be lost. Or not. Who knows? I surely don't!” He started to laugh as if he had just made an incredibly funny joke.
“So? You still didn't tell me why you're here!”
“I-” he couldn't tell a spirit about his problems, right? That would be completely preposterous.
“I felt like exploring the forest. It's so quiet and dark, it calms me down.” He was only partially lying and he hoped that Koutarou would buy it.
And he did,
“I know right? I love this forest a lot,” he suddenly beamed at him.
Akaashi felt his confusion rising.
His mother had always told him about the spirits and how they were supposed to be dangerous creatures that hate humans with a burning passion.
And yet he was standing here, across one of those spirits which was... friendly chatting with him?
Maybe Akaashi had hit his head when he fell and was now imagining things.
“Hey hey hey... Akaashi, right? Are you spacing out? What are you thinking about?”
Akaashi snapped out of his thoughts.
“Owls,” he said the first thing that came to his mind. He blamed Koutarou and his wings for that.
The spirit stared at him before he started to grin at him. Not a teasing grin like before when he had revealed who he was, but a geniunely happy one.
“Do you like them? I could show you some if you want!!”
He reached out for Akaashi, but then stopped midair. His expression suddenly turned angry. Akaashi could feel a chill running down his spine and his breath hitched in his throat. He started to sweat under Koutarou's gaze.
“You're not here to harm them, right?”
This was so ridiculous, that Akaashi forgot for a moment that he was talking to a spirit.
“Are you stupid? I would never hurt an animal!” He immediately bit his lip after he finished his sentence.
Now he had done it.
But instead of getting angry, Koutarou seemed to be satisfied with his answer and relaxed. | 2e7040df4214485681c3c9c3dbeb8b95 | ['fe2a63269bb44cb096eb698e071c22c5'] | “Like father, like son,” he whispered before he stood up and got a blanket from the cupboard to cover them.
He finished making dinner and put it aside on the stove before he went into the living room. He took a book that seemed interesting to him and laid down on the couch, starting to read.
He was already at the fifth chapter when he heard noises coming from the bedroom. Assuming that they woke up, Iwaizumi got up and looked for them. Oikawa sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his eyes, while Tobio was still asleep in his arms.
Iwaizumi smiled at the sight.
“C'mon, give him to me.”
Oikawa, still blinking sleepily, nodded and gave Tobio to Iwaizumi before disappearing into the bathroom.
After some time Tobio woke up as well. He rubbed his face at Iwaizumi's pullover before he looked up. When his eyes fell on Iwaizumi, he started to cry. Iwaizumi tried to calm him down, but no matter what he tried, Tobio kept crying, calling for 'daddy' the entire time.
He only calmed down when Oikawa came back from the bathroom and took him from Iwaizumi. In a matter of seconds he was asleep again. He had started to call Oikawa like this after he had taken him with him to university.
“It's a little unfair,” Iwaizumi said, “that he will only sleep in your arms since he got a little older.”
'But,' he thought, 'at the same time it's amazing because I can watch both of you at the same time.'
Oikawa smiled a little.
“Yeah I think we should work on that.”
A yawn escaped him.
“Oh, you can lie down again if you're still tired,” Iwaizumi suggested but Oikawa just shook his head.
They went to the living room, neither of them being really hungry. The TV flickered in front of them, but they had put it on silent so that Tobio could sleep.
“Hey, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa suddenly said quietly.
“Mhm?”
“Move in with me.”
“What?”
“I mean, it would be easier.You wouldn't have to get here first because you're already here when I have to go to uni. And you're probably already spending more time over here than you do in your own flat. Tobio would get used to you more. I mean he already is, but I think it'd be easier for him too if you'd just, you know, be around all the time..”
“Didn't you always say you wanted a flat for yourself in case you get a girlfriend?”
“Who would want me?” Oikawa joked. “Especially with a baby.”
“I do,” Iwaizumi blurted out before he could stop himself.
Oikawa just stared at his best friend for a long time. Neither of them said anything.
“Iwa-chan?” Oikawa suddenly broke the silence.
“Please just forget what I've said.”
“No, but you-”
“I think I'll go now.”
“Wha- wait! Iwa-chan!”
But Iwaizumi got already up and made his way to the door.
“Please, Iwa-cha-”
“See you, Oikawa.”
“Iwa-dan!” a tiny, still sleepy voice said.
Iwaizumi stopped and looked at Tobio, who rubbed his eyes before he looked at him.
“Iwa-dan arm!”
Tobio jumped up and down in Oikawa's arm and Iwaizumi realised that no matter what, he wouldn't be able to turn down this bright eyed boy who meant the world to him. Neither him, nor his daddy, who was just as important to him.
With a sigh, he took off his shoes again and took Tobio from Oikawa.
He let himself fall on a chair in the kitchen and leaned back.
“You want some tea?” Oikawa asked him quietly and Iwaizumi didn't dare to look at him.
“Mmhm.”
A few minutes later there were two cups of hot, steaming tea on the table.
Oikawa sat down on the chair by Iwaizumi's left side and drew his knees to his chest.
“Can.. can we talk about this or..”
“Just go ahead already.”
Iwaizumi still didn't dare to look at him.
“You said that.. you do... that you'd.. want me. Does that mean.. you know?”
Silence.
“Iwa-chan?”
A sigh.
“Yeah, it means exactly that.”
“I'm sor-”
“Don't apologize!” Iwaizumi interrupted him. “I don't... need to hear that, okay?”
“Iwa-chan, don't cut me off, you stupid walnut!” Oikawa scolded him. “I'm sorry I didn't realise it earlier. And I'm sorry I didn't ask you earlier. But mostly I'm sorry that I wasn't the first to find the courage to say that... it's the same for me.”
Iwaizumi turned his head and stared at Oikawa.
“Wait, what?”
“I said,” Oikawa leaned towards Iwaizumi, “I am in love with you, Hajime.”
Iwaizumi gaped at him and Oikawa started to laugh.
“Your face is so red, Iwa-chan. You look like a tomato,” he said, knowing that he didn't look much better.
“So do you.”
“Hey Iwa-chan?”
“Hm?”
“May I kiss you?”
Iwaizumi was speechless once again but nodded. He kept staring at Oikawa, the image of him leaning towards him with his eyes closed and a blush on his cheeks betting burned into his mind.
He came closer and closer.
Iwaizumi's heart hammered in his chest.
Their lips were almost touching and Iwaizumi could feel Oikawa's breath on his face – when Oikawa suddenly leaned back.
“I know that smell.”
“...oh no.”
Their eyes both wandered to Tobio, who smiled clearly satisfied.
“Are you gonna change them or should I?”
“I will.”
“Iwa-chan, you're my hero.”
**Author's Note:**
> I lied. This is not so much about baby Tobio's adventures but more about Oikawa's. |
8d1149005d4c427d8fa8e466ebca5e41 | ['fe2afca9cf9745c5b6850bb875643cf6'] |
1. Chapter One
**Author's Note:**
> So this is my first ever work, it's been sitting in my notes for ages and I've only just gotten around to post it along with UIMY. Hopefully you'll enjoy it! Sorry for any mistakes, lemme know if you find some!
Louis found out he was pregnant less than two weeks ago. He left One Direction because he knew it would be difficult to stay and watch his four best friends suffer because he'd gone and made that one stupid mistake two months ago.
He knew he'd made the worst decision of his life as soon as he walked out of the flat both he and Harry shared, unknown at the time that he'd be without a penny to his name. He didn't know that he'd agreed to leave the band for good with no money or chances of ever returning to his, now old, job. And the only thing that made matters worse was that he'd never see a certain curly haired lad again.
***
The dance floor vibrated underneath their feet, their bodies moving in perfect timing as the tall guy behind him rolled his hips against Louis' bum, cause the smaller lad to let out breathy moans.
This all continued for what seemed like hours before Louis was finally /finally/ being dragged out from the sweltering heat of the dance floor and out into the cold November air, only to climb straight into a taxi. The twos lips instantly pressed together, moving in a rapid pace as the car moved and headed for the taller lads, Jake or Jason or something's like that, flat that was 'just on the edge of the town, don't worry'.
It was only the next morning when Louis woke up with a pain shooting up his spine and a note next to his pillow from Jason (Of course!), stating he'd gone to get breakfast and it was only minutes later that Louis heard a door open and close again.
***
After he'd stumbled out to the kitchen, both sleepily and painfully, the rest of the morning was easier that Louis had expected. He'd stated until late in the afternoon before leaving with an exchange of soft, slow kisses and promises to call one another before making his way to his own apartment.
"Harry! Harry, I'm home!" Louis called out as he toed off his shoes and left his keys in the bowl next to the door, pulling off his jacket as he walked into the living room to find the curly haired lad sprawled out on the couch.Harry craned his neck back to look up towards Louis, a smirk on his face as he took in the fact the feathery haired was still sporting the clothes he had worn the night before. "/Someone/ had a good night last night." He teased, his eyebrows wriggling as Louis placed himself next to the lanky figure. "Oh shut up, you're just jealous cause I pulled and you didn't."
Louis fell asleep curled up against Harry's chest not even thirty minutes later, his head laid against his shoulder as he got one of his last peaceful sleeps, unknown to himself.
2. Chapter Two
Everything turned for the worst four weeks later. That's when the morning sickness started, having the small lad up every morning at six-oh-seven on the dot to rush into the bathroom as fast as he could to empty out the contents of his stomach for the next hour.
It was only when he began to eat the strangest foods, like pickles smoothed in peanut butter that Liam began to notice. He left saying anything until the fifth early morning the Doncaster lad had before confronting him. "Lou, you need to go to the doctors.." He said, watching Louis walk out of the bathroom that day. "It cant be normal that you're sick this much."
"Liam, I can take care of myself." Louis instantly protested, giving out a small huff of air that sent his flimsy hair up onto his head from his forehead. "You don't have to worry about me!"
The next day saw him sitting in the waiting room to the doctor's office that Liam dragged him into after the two band mates had been in the examination room and Louis had gotten blood work done, Louis' knee nervously bouncing up and down until Liam pushed a hand down on his thigh. "I know you wish that it was Harry here and not me, Lou but you gotta relax, yeah..?"
Louis scrunched his eyebrows together, his mouth opening to protest against Liam's words because he wasn't wishing that Harry was there. Although he really was, he just couldn't admit it. "We've been here for nearly an hour, Liam!" He couldn't help the pout that grew on his lips. "Right now the only thing I'm wishing for is to go ho-"
He was cut off by his name being called, that had him tugging on Liam's wrist and pulling him after the doctor, definitely not wanting to find out what was wrong -if there even was- by himself. The two sat down in the large room, Liam on the chair next to the desk while Louis sat up on the bed to the doctors orders. "Sorry for having you wait so long!" The young girl exclaimed, givng Louis a kind smile. "We just needed to run the tests a second time, we were afraid we'd mixed you results up with another paitents but it's rather simple.."
"You're pregnant, congradulations!"
***
"Louis, what are you doing?!" Liam called out as the small lad was practically a blur flying throught his Harry's shared apartment, that had Liam thanking-and cursing- whoever was up there being thankful that Harry was up with Anne for their break although he silently begged he wasn't so the curly haired lad could conivnce Louis to stop. | 243f1b6761d746968f194711e026c459 | ['fe2afca9cf9745c5b6850bb875643cf6'] | "I-.. I can't stay, Li.." Louis said quietly, a hand resting on his hip as the other pushed through his hair, gripping it by its ends roughly. "You heard her, I'm pregnant! I- I have to go, now.." He said, rushing over his words as he moved to stuff a wad of clothes into a suitcase.
Liam sighed watching Louis, he knew it was going to be near impossible to get through to the older lad, although he looked much younger at that moment there than what he actually was. He looks so vunerable... "C'mon Lou, you've got all of us, we'll help you through this! Especially Ha-"
"No! Liam, you can't tell anyone!" Louis practically screeched as he tugged on one of Harry's sweatshirts over his head, hugging his waist subconsciously. "Please, this has to be just between us.."
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Kudos comments please?:)
3. Chapter Three
The morning sickness stopped for while after the second month, the day he moved back in with Jay and the girls again. He was more than grateful that it had stopped, he wouldn't have the twins bursting into the bathroom and begging to know 'Why is LouLou sick?' every morning.
His phone wouldn't stop buzzing either that day. Liam begging for him to let the other lad tell the other three why Louis had left, being the other reason why his phone was buzzing. He sighed shakily as he leaned back in the chair heavily, his hands rubbing down his face harshly just as Jay walked into the living room. "Boo.. Harry's here.." She said softly, pushing a hand through his feathery hair gently. "And before you go ballistic, I had to tell him why you'd came home, he was worried sick, love." She explained, pulling a protesting Louis up off of the couch as Harry walked in the room.
Louis looked up hearing the curly haired lad walk in, barely waiting a second before rushing forwards into Harry's chest without hesitation, the tears he'd been hiding for two months finally pouring over rapidly with a choked sounded sob that had Harry hugging the small lad close.
"Hey, shh.." He soothed instantly, rubbing over Louis' back with a large hand, his other arm holding the boy close. "You're gonna get through this, okay? You're gonna
get through this and I'm going to be right beside you." He swore, pressing his lips to the top of Louis' head softly after feeling a small nod against his chest before walking backwards to sit on the couch with Louis in his lap.
Jay waited until the tell tale signs of Louis' chest slowly rising and falling, signalling he was asleep before she sat next to Harry, a soft sigh falling from her lips. "Liam said that he hasn't slept all that much since he found out.. Thank god you got him to, crying or not.." She said quietly, watching the two fondly.
"I didn't know anything to do with it up until you told me.." Harry whispered, his voice trembling slightly as a hand moved up to caress through Louis' feathery hair gently. "If I hadn't of been up with mu-," "Harry, don't. We both know that he would've kept quiet about it, even after he's had the baby."
Harry sighed quietly in defeat, a soft chuckle falling from his lips as he nuzzles his nose in against Louis' hair gently. "I know... I'm just glad that's not the case.." He whispered softly, carefully fixing his grip on the smaller lad.
***
"Are you gonna tell him?" Harry asked later that day when the two lads were back in the shared flat. Where we're meant to be.. He thought to himself when he glanced over to the curled up smaller lad opposite him. "The dad, y'know..?"
"He knows.. He doesn't want anything to do with the baby, why do you think I left?" Louis spat out, his face twisting up slightly as he looked up to harry.
Oh god, not the hormones.. Harry mumbled underneath his breath, looking up to Louis with a soft smile. "I was just wondering, Boo.." He said softly, scooting over to pull Louis up into his lap gently. "I told you already too, I'm not going anywhere, I promise.."
Some promises are just waiting to be broken...
4. Chapter Four
**_Two months, three weeks._** Louis was frantic. He had been pacing around the room for the last three hours waiting for Harry to come home, having been promised by the curly haired lad 'I'm only going to be an hour, Lou. Its only a couple of drinks with mates from home'.
He'd given it half an hour before the worry began to kick in, although he convinced himself that it was the hormones. He was getting ready to call Harry's friends after having no luck with Harry's phone for the umpteenth time before his head snapped up hearing the front door open and shut obnoxiously loud, Harry obviously beyond drunk considering the loud giggles that were to be heard. He rushed out to meet the lad by the door, practically seething.
"What happened to an hour? I've been up for the last three hours waiting! I even got the Chinese like we usually get!" He said, his voice raising an octave. Harry only blinked at Louis briefly before the giggles started up again, giving Louis a drunken smirk through a hiccup that caused Louis' stomach to knot uneasily at the smell of alcohol that came from Harry. "We were just having a bit of fun, Lou!" He slurred, staggering towards the small lad only for him to take a step back from him, Harry only giving a shrug. "Awh cmon, boo. You're not seriously mad at me, are you?" That was the only thing Louis would listen to before he spun around, stomping off towards his bedroom with his arms folded over his chest. He looked around the practically unfamiliar room once he'd shut the door, having spent the last few weeks in Harry's room with him.
Harry stared after Louis, a small laugh leaving him once the door was slammed. "I take that as a yes then."
***
Louis stayed in the room for the week after that. By the second day Harry was forcing Louis to open the door a few times a day so as he could get plates of food for the lad, afraid something would happen if he didn't eat. He was clueless about what had happened that night, putting Louis' behaviour down to something that had happened elsewhere.
When Louis finally left the room after his eighth day, he walked downstairs groggy eyed to find Harry siting on the couch. He cleared his throat quietly to grab his attention, his eyes narrowing hearing Harry's laugh ring through the house, only to be followed by the unmistakeable deep voice. "You decided you finally wanted to come out of your cave?" He teased, sitting up in the couch to smirk at Louis. Louis rolled his eyes and shook his head, walking over to the couch before sitting on the end opposite Harry. "Why would you care about what I do?" He said, bitterly almost as he moved his legs up into his chest tightly, ignoring the small resistance that came from his stomach.
Harry just shook his head and rolled his eyes, moving over in the couch to pull Louis up into his lap gently, wrapping his arms tight around him so as he couldn't leave. "Because were Hazza and Boo, we stick together through everything, like we do with the lads." He said softly into Louis' feathery hair, pressing a light kiss there. "We don't leave eachother, hear that?" He said firmly, giving the small boy a soft squeeze.
"Yeah.. I do.."
**Author's Note:**
> Kudos and comments are your friends!:) |
223657ea9d8149768dc6837b14153407 | ['fe3a6f9c5ad445959b4c5ca7cd8edf1a'] | Scottish Kilts
Pinned to the ground, Charles can taste salt in his mouth, crushed bere grains rubbing against his face. The Alpha behind him grunted and starts stripping him bare. I cannot go down without a fight, thought the Omega as he shoves against the pressure on his back, frantically twisting and turning against the Alpha’s ridiculously strong grip. Charles pushes back with his head, trying to head-butt the attacker, but missed. The Alpha pins him down further, applying force to the clench he already has on Charles’ hands. He is practically lying on top of the Omega.
“You are not going anywhere you little winch. Like it rough ay?” a thick Scottish accent boomed in his ear. “Look at you, all wet and desperate for my cock aren’t ya!” while one hand seizes him down, the other slips into his tunic, untucking it from Charles’ kilt and pushing it up towards his neck
“S...sto..stop...”Charles tried weakly.
“An English boy without manners?” the voice chuckled. “What ‘appened to your please and thank yous?”
“Please…..please let me go…..”
The alpha, instead of replying, leans down and sniffs his neck. Charles felt hot breath spiralling down his spine, followed with a lick, then a suck. “You will be mine” the Alpha mumbles while he kisses around the sensitive bonding gland biteitbiteitbiteitbiteit
Charles must have sensed the Alpha’s hesitation, because he shoves himself against him, “DON’T YOU DARE!” Charles squeaks out, but his futile resistance is met with the Alpha’s roar.
Charles’ kilts are pushed up on to his waist, he can feel slick gradually sliding down his thighs. A hand caressing his behind, smearing his slick about and spreading his ass out. The alpha could not wait any longer. He forces Charles on to his knees while stretching him out with three fingers.
“Oh you look gorgeous, getting fucked by my fingers, just look at you, moaning about like that.”
“God, oh, harder, please harder.” Charles’ head is messed up with hormones surging about everywhere. Spring really is a fucked up time for Omegas, he thought as he thrusts himself onto the alpha’s hand, slick and precome flying about him.
The Alpha has already split open his own kilt, the well-endowed member certainly looks happy to greet Charles, with precome leaking down its thick shaft. Charles ass swings seductively at the alpha. He smiled, and slowly pushes in. the Omega almost melted at the connection, growling and panting as he tried to accommodate the size. The Alpha pushes in further, until he felt the omega shiver when that special bundle of nerves were hit.
He let go of Charles’ wrists, and clenches him in position on the hips. Charles can’t even breathe for the sheer pleasure of the thick cock inside him, he tosses about while being pinned down and grabs on to the bere stalks surrounding them for support. Charles feels the sun warming his back, he smells the alpha’s musk, and he tastes blood in his mouth. The alpha, is not gentle, he claimed Charles with rough and quick thrusts.
“Oh I just love the sounds you make when I fuck you, my little whore.” The alpha pants behind him. “How I wish you could see yourself right now, all wide open for me, fuckin’ wet like a bloody waterfall.”
“Oh God please, make me yours, just give it to me! Please!” Charles gasps.
The alpha pulls his cock out and rubs it against the Omega’s hole, Charles whimpers, pushing his hips upwards unconsciously. The alpha took the hint and thrusts ferociously into the welcoming heat, one hand moved on to Charles’ throbbing cock, pumping him steadily. He could feel his knot is starting to form, stretching Charles’ hole even further.
Charles cries out at the pressure, tossing his head back. The knot firmly ties the both of them together, the alpha took his chance and bit down at Charles’s neck, right on the bonding gland and hard enough to draw blood. He’s done it, Charles is and will always be, his omega.
Charles shrivels at the attack, shrieking to the pain. The alpha grabs his cock and starts to jerk it in syncopation with his own swivelling hips. Charles comes hard at the excessive stimulation, he ejaculates onto the ground, coating the surrounding grains with his come. He can feel the knot starts to stretch him even wider. The alpha continues to push his knot into him in circular motion. Charles squeezes and flutters at the extra stimulation on his now over sensitive area, the alpha wrenches him close, with one final rough push he pumps into Charles, filling him up to the brim. | 6e4f2c46bafb4c5c9697985103878ea7 | ['fe3a6f9c5ad445959b4c5ca7cd8edf1a'] | Milking the Milk boy
**Author's Note:**
> I'm sorry guys, another pwp....ah I feel so ashamed right now. I swear, I do not write these kind of things on a daily basis，bits just friends from my Chinese twitter ask for this kind of stuff...and I thought, its in English anyway, might as well put them up on AO3.
>
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy this....I really do.
“Tell me again my dear boy, what do you want?” Erik hand stretched over the ass in his lap, such a nice young ass too, all plump and springy; ah youth, how he missed it. “Say it!”
“Please…please sir…”
“Ssh…Charles….call me daddy.” Erik slide his hand into the boy’s pants, forcing his underwear down, his eyes darkened at the sight of the white flesh.
Charles was trembling now, never in his wildest dreams would he imagine himself in this position, half naked and bent over Mr Lehnsherr’s knee, Mr Lehnsherr who was the same age as his dad. One minute he was delivering milk to number 88 Genosha St, and the next he gets invited in for a quick bite. Well, Mr Lehnsherr wasn’t wrong about the quick bite!
“Da...Daddy please, please let me go…ah!”
Erik brought his callous hand down to the pretty cheeks, he struck them both at once, right along the ass crack. Charles cried out in pain. Erik struck again, first on the left cheek then the right cheek. Charles couldn’t help it, he sobbed out loud because it just hurt so much! His butt was warm and rosy red, with Erik’s palm prints all over it.
“Now that was for badmouthing about my cock size last week,” Erik caressed over his markings, kneading the flesh. He really couldn’t hold it out any longer, the moans and the sobs coming from Charles were driving him crazy with want “now what do you say to your daddy?”
“I’m so…sorry….”Charles voice was muffled out by his sobs.
“Oh Liebling don’t cry….you loved it, and you will enjoy what follows.” Erik slicked up his fingers with saliva and started pushing two into Charles, slowly, even though all he wanted to do at that moment was to ram his fat cock into the young boy’s tight little puckered hole and fuck the living lights out of him. He added another finger and twisted.
Charles moaned out wantonly, it’s just, the fingers felt so good, and well, he thought to himself, he kinda deserved this. Erik pushed his fingers in and out, while scissoring around inside the mushy warmth。 “is this good Charles?” He gave that perky ass another slap. “God how great my cock will look, squeezing in and out of your little virgin hole. You’d like that won’t you? On your knees now you naughty boy, I see the way you look at me every morning, I know you want this!”
“Yes daddy, please….daddy….please….give it to me,” Charles pleaded, he couldn’t last any longer, his own cock was pulsating against his stomach, pleading for a release. Charles bent down to the ground, sticking his ass out in the air and just begged. “Daddy I want your juicy cock in me, please, please fuck me and take my virgin hole! I beg you!”
With that Erik pushed his bratwurst into the boy, Charles’s ass hole spasmed around his cock, ignoring the pleasure it brought, Erik continued on to jab into him. “Aaaaaahhh……Daddy……you’re fucking me so deep! Oh god… daddy….faster…please faster.” Charles whined out loudly, but he managed to hold himself in place, instead of falling face flat on to the ground. He felt his heart pounding against his chest from excitement, anticipation and pleasure. Erik pumped in and out, stretching the pale ass more and more, he got to the point where he was literally pounding the flesh beneath him. “You feel that Charles? That’s my fat cock massaging your prostate, tell daddy you want me to fuck you. Tell me!”
“Oh my god….ohhhhhhhh daddy, don’t ever stop!”
Erik felt he was close, he started grabbing Charles wavy locks and pulling his head back before going warp speed down into his ass. He slammed his hips against the boy below as he leaned down and sucked his neck, oh this felt so fucking good, “Charles, daddy’s going to cum in you now.” Erik’s thrusts started going off balance, ramming into Charles a few more times before he clenched up and released his cum into the milk boy, moaning out loudly as he did. Charles shuddered underneath the weight, cuming hard against the feeling of hot load filling up his tender ass.
“Get yourself cleaned up boy.” Erik smirked, “and I shall see you tomorrow morning.” |
a9f3ee547da940e296bff03642408a5a | ['fe3a86781ed34ee9b72e88d42de81373'] | Introspective Interludes
**Author's Note:**
> Scene – After the first conversation on the plane.
Colonel Tom Devoe gazed out the window as he finished his coffee, contemplating the conversation he had with Dr. Kelly moments before. She'd gotten the last word in and given him something to think about.
Yes, he'd done his "checking up" on her. Unlike what some of his cronies and apparently she herself thought, it wasn't necessarily that she was a woman in this position that concerned him, but rather how young and inexperienced she was to be taking on an assignment like this so soon into the job. She was ambitious but not to the point of pretentiousness, thoroughly intelligent, and very dedicated to her work, all of which impressed him but all the more reason why he wasn't going to sugarcoat anything, nor was he going to talk down to her the way he knew some of his associates could do just because she was a woman. Bureaucrat that she was, she was his comrade, and Dr. Kelly would be treated just as professionally if it were a man in her place.
He gave a small chuckle when he thought again. The only difference being, if this were downtime, the sex, and this example of it in particular, would make all the difference; he'd noted her loveliness along with her other attributes, and almost wished she had been frumpy and/or married, as her differing opinion wasn't the only thing that unnerved him. Though with the way she was now looking at him, a question delicately crinkling her forehead, with that guarded blue fire in her eyes, he wondered how good his chances were anyway.
Dmitri was going to get a kick out of his predicament.
* * *
After Colonel Devoe arose from his seat to check up on some documents, Dr. Kelly focused her attention back to her laptop, having been momentarily diverted by the man's sudden chuckle. God only knew what was running through that man's mind.
Devoe was proving a diversion again as Julia considered his words, _"When you've been the boss for more than two weeks…"_ From the moment they met, they'd done almost nothing but clash with each other, and she knew that was only the beginning. But yet he'd just paid her such a compliment, whether he intended to or not. Implying that she'd actually keep this job? That's more than some people who she thought she'd known better managed to do. The irony struck her so and tickled her lips into a small smile.
He could still get his own coffee though. Her smile pursed into a determined and brief smirk as she went back to work. | fcef2af6e0514a35a484ce3325addf11 | ['fe3a86781ed34ee9b72e88d42de81373'] | Inform
**Author's Note:**
> This was a spur of the moment idea, so edits/improvements will eventually be applied. Just a little "deleted scene," right before Tom visits Julia at the pool (I've concluded in my mind it was no more than two weeks after the showdown in New York). The female characters in this ficlet were shown early on in the movie though their roles were quite minor, but I figured it'd be fun to expand a little on them, especially "Jody" played by Tamara Tunie, the woman they showed in a couple of scenes (the most prominent one being where Julia tells Tom to get his own coffee and Jody looked at both of them with that amused/knowing expression). I didn't realize she had a name until I actually went and checked on the cast. The character's name wasn't mentioned in the movie…makes me think there were deleted scenes with her; would've been interesting to know what they were if that's the case.
>
> Feedback is appreciated. ;)
Jody slipped some papers in her brief case, zipped it up and grabbed her purse. "I'm out," said the distinguished White House employee. This Friday had actually been a pretty slow and uneventful one for the group, a good thing in actuality, but left Jody feeling antsy for a good workout by the time the work day was over. She decided to go to the gym as had group leader and friend Dr. Julia Kelly, who'd been especially more than ready to get back to some laps in the pool since her doctor had advised she take it easy for a few days after the events in New York. Julia had gotten off earlier for the day for once, instead of leaving at five as she usually did.
Just a few feet from the door, Jody stopped in her tracks as a good looking and familiar man in uniform walked in.
"Good afternoon, Colonel Devoe," greeted Sue, Julia's co-worker and friend who'd just been walking past and also stopped.
He politely smiled and nodded in acknowledgement. "Ma'am." His keen eyes skimmed the room briefly before he looked back to Sue and asked, "Is Dr. Kelly in?"
"She left half an hour ago, sir," replied the young ash blonde.
He gave a small nod and his eyes dropped to the floor momentarily, and Jody inwardly smirked a little as she noted the disappointment on his face. She knew this had been coming, from day one, and even more so after she'd heard some of what Julia and Colonel Devoe had been through together on their assignment. It'd only been a matter of time…a little less than two weeks? Oh yes. The slow and uneventful day was now becoming interesting.
Tom spoke again. "Oh. Do you have any idea where I might be able to find her?"
This time Jody decided to speak up, "She mentioned she was going to stop by the Y this afternoon. She's most likely there now, swimming laps."
The twinkle returned to the Colonel's eyes as he smiled again. "Thank you, ladies. Have a good day."
"You're welcome Colonel, and same to you."
After he'd exited, Jody and Sue turned toward each other. Exchanging similar knowing and amused looks, with the same thought in their minds. Tom Devoe was going to surprise Julia again, and they had a strong feeling she was going to be much happier about it this time around. |
97cc951e2dea4c518b0c90bedf8c02a4 | ['fe453d777dce4036b87612396f40982e'] | He wasn't the only one. Free had spent the last hour staring at his watch and sighing heavily.
“All things considered,” said Fred, “it's probably time to go.” He stood up and stretched.
“Still, I enjoyed myself.” He looked at Doyle, and pulled a small envelope out of his jacket. “I don't suppose I'll be seeing you again.” He handed the envelope to Doyle. “For your efforts.” He wandered off in the general direction of the exit.
A tip. Well, that was nice, although not nearly as interesting as this evening’s shenanigans between Bodie and Bond.
Talking of which... Doyle shot a meaningful glance at Bodie and then at Tobias. Bodie nodded, stood up, and before Tobias had time to react had Tobias’s hands firmly secured behind his back.
“You can't do this,” Bond and Tobias shouted simultaneously.
“I can and I have,” Bodie replied. “CI5, sunshine. You're nicked.”
“We had an agreement,” Bond said. “We were going to wait until he made contact with Mr X. And now you've...”
Tobias started laughing.
Doyle started to have a sinking feeling in his stomach. He pulled the envelope that Fred had given him out of his jacket pocket and opened it. Inside was a note that said “Better luck next time. Mr X.”
“I think,” he said slowly to Bond, “this is for you.”
Bond took a very cursory look at the note and then sprinted towards the entrance. By the time Bodie and Doyle got there, their pissed off captive between them, they could only hear the sounds of what promised to be a high speed chase. Fellowes, who had been on valet parking duty, was looking bemused.
“He won't catch ‘im,” said Tobias confidently.
“Bond's driving an Aston Martin,” said Fellowes. “And he doesn't seem to worried about the suspension. Or his insurance.”
“Fred’s driving a Lamborghini,” said Tobias. “Faster than an Aston Martin.”
“You haven't driven this Aston Martin,” said Doyle, feeling an irrational need to defend the British auto industry.
“I don’t need to,” said Tobias, who obviously didn’t have the same urge.
“Is his name really Fred?” asked Doyle. None of the questions he really wanted to ask seemed to appropriate at the moment.
“Above my pay grade,” said Tobias. “I suppose you'd best be getting me along to headquarters.”
Bodie and Doyle looked at each other.
“They sure don't ‘ire you lot for your looks do they?” He gave Doyle a long stare. “Or your looks, anyway. Suppose you must be good for something. Right now. You've arrested me, presumably want to talk to me, with or without brief, not that I'm going to tell you anything useful.” There was a long pause. “You do realize it was a set up all along?” He looked at Bodie. “Not that it went precisely as planned. Or at all as planned...”
There was what sounded like a small explosion in the distance.
“Still, I reckon you've gotten a better end of the deal than Fred.” Tobias shook his head. “Fred comes up with an elaborate and extremely well thought out plan, with all contingencies catered for, with one exception: British intelligence being staffed by idiots. No wonder the British Empire no longer exists.”
A louder explosion and what looked like fireworks. And then what sounded like every single emergency vehicle in London converging on the same point.
An extraordinary number of D notices were issued to the papers that evening | f6daa766f4284d85b393e205b3d79a6e | ['fe453d777dce4036b87612396f40982e'] | “I didn’t say that,” said Cowley, and glared at Doyle.
Which meant Doyle’s guess was probably correct. Bodie took a large swallow of his whisky and tried to pretend he didn’t know Doyle. Not that it ever worked.
Obviously deciding that the direction of the conversation was best changed, Cowley added, “I understand Dr Ross’s contributions to this enterprise were of great assistance. She informs me that she plans to visit Purvis, once he’s settled in. She’s hoping to write an article about him for some psychology journal. Suitably anonymized of course. We wouldn’t want to inadvertently embarrass the Chief Constable.”
“Of course not,” agreed Bodie. Cowley never did anything inadvertently.
“Kate writes articles?” asked Doyle sounding slightly breathless.
Susan made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a giggle.
Crowley looked irritated with Doyle’s sudden interest in the subject. “Under a pseudonym, obviously.”
Doyle turned an interesting shade of magenta. “And you allow this?”
“Like I said, under a pseudonym. I can’t say I agree with all her conclusions, but she is writing in her professional sphere, not mine. Do you have any objections, Doyle?”
Doyle, now slightly less purple, shook his head.
“What was that about?” asked Bodie as they were exiting Crowley’s office.
Doyle got that tight-lipped look to him, the one that said it was useless to try to pry information out of him. “You really, really don’t want to know.”
Bodie really, really did.
6. Chapter 6
Drinks with Thomas again. This was becoming an unpleasant habit. Bodie hoped Thomas didn’t have any other serial killers up his sleeve.
Although he supposed he was going to have to learn to tolerate Thomas if he was going to continue to be in Doyle’s life. It wasn’t like he was bad company. Under any other circumstances, Bodie might have even quite liked him.
Take now, for example. The three of them were sitting outside a rather nice pub, with Thomas carrying out a highly slanderous re-enactment of Laughton’s announcement that the Ripper task force was being disbanded. Highly embellished, if Bodie was any judge, but Thomas was an impressive mimic.
“And then Laughton says, with an absolutely straight face, that it was a pity Purvis couldn’t be here today for the conclusion of the case, but he was away sick. He was so convincing, I started questioning whether Laughton actually knew what had happened. And then one of the frightfully keen DCs asked about sending a get well card, and Laughton turned puce and told us we were done.”
Doyle cackled so hard with laughter, part of his pint went down the wrong way.
Thomas slapped him on the back. “You survived the Ripper. I’d rather not see you taken down by a beer. How’s the shoulder feeling today? Better than last night?”
Last night? Doyle had seen Thomas last night? Doyle had told told Bodie he was too tired to even get take out.
Bodie might have growled.
Without blinking an eye, Thomas stood up. “Think it’s my round. Same again?” He strode off without waiting for an answer.
Bodie had to say something.
“Doyle, you’ve read the small print. We’d be out on our ear if Cowley found out that we were opening ourselves up to blackmail.”
Doyle’s mouth dropped open. “Bodie, what the hell are you talking about?”
Bodie paused. Had he really got it that wrong? Even if Thomas and Doyle weren’t - no, he wasn’t going to think about it - but even if they weren’t doing what he absolutely wasn’t thinking about, surely Doyle had to have noticed Thomas’s behaviour. “Doyle, Thomas likes you.”
“Of course he likes me. We’re friends.” Something in Bodie’s expression must have given the game away. “Oh. Likes me.” Doyle shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. Thomas is completely not interested in me. But even if he were, why would anyone care?”
“Cowley...”
“And don’t say Cowley. Bodie, even you can’t be that naive. Cowley’d object to us putting ourselves in a position where we could be blackmailed or embarrass CI5, but other than that...” Doyle spread his hands. “Cowley’s a pragmatist. I mean, he’d object to me having it off with Thomas on his desk, but as long as we were discreet...”
There was something very painful in the pit of Bodie’s stomach. “So you and Thomas are...?” He couldn’t complete the sentence.
“I just told you. We're friends. I am completely and utterly not Thomas’s type. He likes them blonde and busty.”
Bodie opened his mouth.
“And smart. He’s dating Susan.”
“Susan?” asked Bodie indignantly. “He could have said. Here was I thinking...”
Doyle looked at him. “I know exactly what you were thinking. Bodie, would it have been a problem for you if Thomas and I were more than just friends?”
“Of course not!”
Doyle looked at him. Really looked at him. Started at the top of his head and slowly moved his eyes downward. Almost as if he were trying to memorize him. It was unnerving.
“Doyle?”
“Bodie, you know you’re my best mate, right? Thomas is a good friend, but he’s not you.”
Bodie wasn’t sure he liked where this was going. “Yeah.”
“But I don’t tell you everything. There’s stuff in my past I’d rather not think about if I can help it.”
Given the sheer amount that Bodie had never - would never - tell Doyle, he'd be a hypocrite to object to that. “And?”
Doyle stared at the ground. “If your interview with Cowley when you started the job was anything like mine, he made you confess everything and anything in your history that might ever be a factor while working for CI5.” |
66c9992ed705448085a8479ebc86e000 | ['fe48d90e5f1242e4971a50f8c8c64295'] | "I am faring well. But, I cannot help but feel that winter is approaching." And although the winter in Valhalla was nowhere near as cold as the expanses of space, it was a force to be reckoned with. A quick look to Bödvar gave the other the idea that he could read what little body language he had because an arm wrapped itself around Orion's shoulders and pulled him in close.
"Do not worry, Orion, the pelts here are so warm that not even the coldest depths of winter can touch you," the sound that Bödvar made was deep and warm. a sound that made Orion want to laugh along. Orion felt it vibrate through his armour, and he laughed, a short noise that sounded unnatural. If it was unsettling, Bödvar made no notion to it. "The mead could also help you, though, come to think of it, I've never seen you eat."
The nord stroked his beard as they walked toward the great hall, a look of puzzlement on his face. "Can you even eat?" Orion allowed himself to laugh again.
"I have eaten before, Bödvar. It is not like I have never taken the form of a human to fit in. I quite like chocolates, when able to have them. And cheese as well. I've had a lot of cheese, if you can believe that. It's mystifying how something can change in taste from only the feed the animals graze upon. Cows are as they were a thousand years ago, as well as goats and sheep. Yet things happen so fast on earth: your years, your seasons, your days," he huffed a breath, "it is baffling."
He stopped. it took Orion a few moments to realize that he had begun to ramble. Something he could only call embarrassment washed over him and he laughed. Why would he laugh at such a time? The metallic sound washed over the two. He guessed he had picked it up from the humans in Valhalla, and he turned to Bödvar.
The man had a smile on his face. Why? Orion was saying things that the nord must already know, and yet he was smiling. Was that how friendship worked? As he thought, a silence drifted over them, and it hung over them like a warm blanket, but not suffocating. Enjoyable.
3. A friend you say?
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> a little blurb about eating together. i cant remember if it was written before or after the second chapter.
"This hall is empty... It would be easy to sneak in food for you to try and we can eat together."
"Thank you, but that is completely unnecessary."
"It's no trouble for me, and anyway, I want to do it."
"Because you are my friend?"
"Exactly!"
"And because you are curious to what I look like when I eat," he nudged the other man and laughed. The sound was beginning to sound more natural, and it pleased Orion that he was becoming more human.
Bödvar gave him a sheepish grin, "also true, but my intentions are pure at heart," he said with a timely placed hand over his chest. "There are many fine things here I wish to share with you. Food being one of them. On earth, there is nothing like what I have tasted here. The fruits are riper, the meats flavored, the fish, well, they are less... fishy." His nose crinkled at the thought and he chuckled.
Orion considered the nord's offer. On one hand, he could deny his friends request, and they would continue sitting in each other's company in silence. Not sufficating, just a gentle silence as they enjoyed their time together. On the other, he could do as Bödvar wished and eat with him. There was a time he had a body, while acquainted with Mirage, and it was well formed. But that time had long passed, and he hardly remembered what he looked like.
A thought passed over him. He could create a new form, for the soul purpose of sating Bödvar's curiosity. Or he could keep his soul bare, ha, and let Bödvar see him how he came. Both ideas almost sounded fun. Orion tapped his fingers against the table before moving his hands upward to remove his helmet.
"Alright. But you have to find me strawberries. I remember that long ago Mirage told me I needed to try them."
He had never seen Bödvar smile brighter as he left on his trek for food. | ba53447bd88b4f5489a799405aab2118 | ['fe48d90e5f1242e4971a50f8c8c64295'] |
Your Name is Orion
**Author's Note:**
> Another little look into Bödvar and Orion's relationship. All my head canons about Orion and what he is, is just that, my head canons. No need to take them as set in stone or anything~ Just a fun way at looking at our favorite mystery boi. Hope you enjoy!
**_In a realm where_** you wanted to keep your face hidden; looking to the stars without your helmet on was a treat. He couldn't do this often. Not with everyone bustling, even at night and the halls filled to the brim with merriment and singing.
Tonight he felt like giving himself a break. Laying down on the roof of his favorite hall, one that stayed, for the most part, quiet no matter what time of the day, face upturned toward the sky and hands placed delicately upon his chest.
"You know," he began, "I can hardly believe I was the one who painted this sky," his words were soft and were clearly meant to for the one climbing onto the roof beside him. Had it been any other, Orion would have fled without a word, but after years, he knew what Bödvar sounded like.
The Nord cursed under his breath, clambering the rest of his way up the windowsill until he lay side by side with Orion. The alien smiled, turning his almost featureless face to the other man. Bödvar looked sheepish in the pale light, a clawed hand raising to scratch his beard.
_"I thought I was being sneaky,"_ sheepish indeed. He had begun their conversation to his first language, one that had died out long ago: except in Valhalla.
_"You could never be sneaky, Bödvar. Lest not to me,"_ the words were easy on his tongue and he turned back to face the sky. "It is so odd to think that I am part of the reason everyone is here."
"Part?"
"Well, I created some of the stars, but then they began to create themselves; breaking down and building up, making life and death," his face changed and it seemed like, if he had a brow, it would be brought together in thought. "I did not create the planets, they formed on their own will, or perhaps the stars'."
"So, you tell me the stars are living?" Pause. "And what of the Gods? Did you create them?" Bödvar's curiosity always got the best of him and he pushed himself closer to Orion with his eyes set on the other's face.
Orion laughed. "The stars, in a way are alive. In the way jellyfish are alive. Constantly moving, eating and reproducing, creating and destroying... As for the Gods. They moved here once the galaxy started to form. I believe the Gods continuously move until they can find a suitable place to create life."
For once, Orion didn't know. Of all the wisdom he gathered throughout the galaxy, he didn't know how Gods came to be. He always told himself that they were older than time, older than all, and that they had created his kind. Where would his kind have come from in the first place?
"Lopt Mađr," Bödvar had been trying to get his attention for some minutes it seemed, and Orion turned lazily to his companion. His companion lay there beneath the stars, a furry hand outstretched to trace the horizon and the constellations that kissed the sky. "Why are you called Orion? Is that truly your name?"
This took him by surprise. When had he first called himself Orion? He had to shift to lay with his body toward the stars before he could answer. He silently thanked Bödvar for his patience.
“Hm. I've been here for a chunk of my existence. Before that, I was roaming the skies and creating stars where they need to be," at this he gained a short nod from Bödvar, "I was here when you were around," Orion laughed. "Then, I believe I was just known as "Stranger," as your people believed I was some god in disguise," and it was true for some. He could _technically_ be seen as a god, but that was not what he wanted. The Earthlings had a thing about names. Everything had a name and a title. Even objects that didn't hold sentience.
"And after that my names changed numerous times, all of which I have all but forgotten, but could retrieve if I meditated," from this he received a grunt. Of course Bödvar didn't want to wait too long. His curiosity had to be sated at the time of conception.
"Before the Earth was a thing, and I did what I had to, I don't believe I had a name," he had to think long and hard about his time before Earth. Everything on Earth moved so quickly and he was an alien that lived in the oceans of space. It was slow. There was no time. No day nor night, no minute nor hour, no year nor century. There was only _being._
"I had titles. Something close to 'sir' or 'madam' in Earthen terms." His starlit fingers began tracing the constellation which gave him his name. "I was always fascinated with the fact that you humans named everything. Each other, animals, _plants, even._ I never thought of doing that, as We don't have names, for anything really. But it is... endearing. One of the first constellations I had heard of was _"Orion,"_ and I panicked when everyone asked for a name when I crashed. I was not used to choosing my own name for once."
There was silence between them and Orion felt like it was going to suffocate him. His mind swam and he went back to touching the stars with his fingertips, trying to find a path to trace and calm himself. He was grateful that Bödvar was accustomed to his ways and allowed himself to think and relax as he needed until he was able to speak again.
In the course of the silence, Bödvar had pushed himself to his knees and ushered Orion to kneel with him. Fingers brushed over where Orion's eyes would have sat and a finger brushed over the bridge of what would be his nose. Orion allowed the features come to life under Bödvar's touch and he held his new found eyes closed in fear of they tearing up.
"Starlight, Lopt Mađr, Orion, _friend,"_ each one of these words were punctuated with a squeeze of his hands, until his eyes slowly opened, "they once said..." Bödvar paused, jaw working in thought. Just as the Nord had become accustomed to Orion's quirks, Orion had become accustomed to his. It took a few seconds longer for Bödvar to find his voice.
"They once said that man found his name through his travels, and I think you have done just that. Maybe you will feel the need to change it, maybe you'll add to it, but you are what makes the name, not the other way around." Bödvar had a look of triumph on his face and a lopsided grin that anyone else would call goofy.
But from his words and his expression, fat tears rolled down Orion's wide eyes; black and full of stars that had yet to be born. He managed to wiggle his hand free from the Nord's vice like grip and wipe the tears away.
Orion had never heard anyone speak of a name that way, nor speak to him in such a manner. He believed names were an easier way to identify someone, not a thing that would be connected to your being. At this, his shoulders shook and he silently cried, pulling himself close to Bödvar by his sleeves of his shirt. The Nord did his best to calm his friend, rubbing his back and whispering soft words to him.
"Sometimes names are the things that can break you, lopt mađr, and at other times they can do this," he pulled back to hold Orion's face between his bear hands, stroking his cheeks, "they can give you a new meaning and a new light about yourself." Bödvar placed his hand on his starlight's chest. "You chose your name because your heart, your core, whatever it may be you have, called out to you that your name is Orion." |
1a1735b06ee743bb9996f5b6af797293 | ['fe74acc730d94f98922ba04ed8435fd2'] | Parting their lips, Megatron changed his position to the front of Starscream who remained pliant on his back, backstrut slightly elevated by the pillows he had repositioned. Megatron positioned himself so that their arrays were pressed together, valve against valve, and grabbed Starscream’s left leg, lifting it up outside his thigh, solid grip on it allowing him to stay in control over their movements. He spread Starscream’s other leg as wide as he could get it to the side, allowing their valves to stay connected.
“Are you ready, Starscream,” he purred, grinding their arrays experimentally against each other. Starscream nodded desperately, as if he was more worried he would instantly overload again from any movement of his lord, and Megatron chuckled before grabbing onto Starscream’s leg with both hands.
“O, oh,” Starscream gasped from the sudden stimulation, as their valves ground together, the lubricants from the both of them creating an additional obscene sound between them, joining gasps and moans. Megatron’s growls were low, through gritted teeth, but he couldn’t control his moans escaping as he ground his array into his Second’s, nodes brushing against each other.
Megatron rolled his pelvis, experimentally creating a rhythm between them that he could control, and control meant he could calculate exactly long to drag it out to make his lovely assassin’s processor overheat and crackle. It was an exercise in patience for him too though, the view of Starscream twisting his frame under him, not escaping his grip, along with the feel of their valves sliding against each other was making him want to increase friction, lead them both to an explosive finish.
But he wanted to hear something else first. He went slower, just enough to drive Starscream _almost_ there, yet not over the edge.
“M, Mega, tron…,” came a whimper from Starscream, at last, a wave of satisfaction befalling Megatron and he couldn’t help but smile sadistically, “please…please please…”
“What’s that, Starscream?” Megatron purred out his name, grinding hard a few times before slowing down again as if to emphasize his control. “Do you want to overload?”
“Yes,” he squeaked out, nodding uncontrollably, grasping uselessly against the sheets of the berth, “please…”
Having earned his lord’s grace, he strengthened his grip on his leg and started grinding for real this time, the clanging sound of their frames hitting together joining the sound of their arrays and their moans and gasps. Starscream tried to cover his own mouth when his overload finally hit, but he ended up throwing his head back and just let it ripple through him, waves and waves of a full body overload sending electric charges through him.
Megatron ground into him through his overload, drawing it out as long as possible, turning his deadly assassin into a drooling overstimulated mess under him, beautiful in his dishevelled state.
He slowed down, but wanted, _needed_ his own overload. In a desperate fit to achieve it, he grabbed Starscream’s hand, pulling his entire upper body towards him, and shoving it between his legs, to have something hard to grind against. He hastily managed to untangle their legs and changed back to their earlier position, with Megatron lying between Starscream’s thighs.
His processor spun as he ground himself against Starscream’s fingers, desperate and harsh jutting against his pulsating node, until he was finally hitting his overload. He felt hot lubricants flowing out between them, as he bit down on Starscream’s neck cables to muffle his own voice as powerful waves of pleasure pulsed through him.
He felt his entire body still twitching with pleasure after his overload had faded. He wanted to stay in the same position for a while, face nestled in Starscream’s neck. Starscream, calmly and slowly patted the back of his helm, humming softly. The atmosphere of the room was still heated, the sweet scent of their combined lubricants lingering in the air.
Starscream smirked when Megatron looked up from his neck and his smouldering red optics met his.
“Can’t resist the temptation of a valve overload from time to time, hm?” He purred, letting Megatron pull him closer, not wanting the heat generated between their frames to go away.
As Starscream cuddled up against his broad chest, placing small kisses against him, always so affectionate after an interface, Megatron noticed over the view of Starscream’s wings that the severed Autoboot head had been knocked off the bedside rest, without either of them having noticed when it happened. He didn’t bring it to Starscream’s attention, preferring to lavish him with the attention he wanted instead. Only the two of them would ever matter in this room, anyway. | 4f74ba3049c148bea604fe191af3233c | ['fe74acc730d94f98922ba04ed8435fd2'] | Starscream leant back giving Megatron access, a submissive gesture as much as a challenge. Megatron dug in his sharp teeth into a shoulder vent, leaving his mark. Starscream squirmed, pain and pleasure causing his intake to hitch even further as Megatron’s biting grip held him pinned with only his teeth. The taste of metal lingered after he let go.
It wasn’t the taste he was craving now, though.
Megatron’s large servos moved from his wings to the seeker’s chest, fingers dipping in to finger at his sensitive chest turbines. Starscream moved his hand to the back of Megatron’s helm, as the warlord’s focus was wandering further down the Seeker’s body. He knew what he wanted, and Starscream, allowing him to place his attentions wherever he wanted, pushed his body up as if on display.
Megatron went on to kiss the smooth surface of Starscream’s cockpit, a gentle stroking up and down with his lips, before sliding a servo under the curvature of his backstrut under the base of his wings. Starscream arched under his touch, and Megatron pulled him into a sitting position again, pulling him closer and placing his own helm between his thighs.
He nuzzled against his pelvic armour, his hot breath against a heated covered array, both servos shamelessly stroking up and down the jet’s legs. He left small kisses against his inner thighs and over his array. Starscream hummed in appreciation of Megatron’s wordless praise.
“Open,” he looked up and said it as if a command; he knew the authoritative tone turned the jet on as much as he’d never admit to it. Not that _he_ would admit finding Starscream’s casual insolence a turn-on either.
Starscream’s optics were dimmed with arousal, to the point where he couldn’t even manage to look smug having the warlord below him and worshipping his frame. He nodded weakly and did as Megatron commanded.
The Seeker’s wet valve was bared for Megatron, already swollen with arousal, and both the biolights lining the rim and his node were pulsating. Megatron didn’t point out the obvious, how turned on and begging for it he was - dragging it out would be as good as torture for the both of them, so Megatron wasted no time sinking his thick glossa into the soft mesh. Sliding from the rim to between the plush folds of the Seeker’s valve, the taste of his arousal was mesmerizing.
“Megatr- ah—!”
Starscream arched his back, only not toppling over backwards on the desk due to Megatron’s large arm supporting him by having grabbed a servoful of aft. Megatron’s left hand was still on his thigh, keeping his legs obscenely apart, giving him as much access he needed to make the Seeker lose his mind.
A hand on the desk supported Starscream’s balance and one on the back of Megatron’s helm, legs spread as wide as they could get over Megatron’s shoulders.
Megatron kissed his valve with the same ferocity as he had his mouth earlier, brushing against sensitive nodes, with carefully calculated movements as only an ex-gladiator used to ripping out another mech’s spark with his bare hands could execute.
Starscream bit the inside of his lip, muffling another gasp as Megatron flicked his anterior node with his tongue, pressed into it and continued caressing it in a circular motion.
Megatron kept his focus to the jet’s node, being what caused the most animated reaction. He sucked it into his mouth, drawing out a string of moans and obscure curses from the jet as he squirmed in Megatron’s now harder grasp. His valve pulsed around his tongue, graciously releasing lubricants. Starscream’s head dropped back, unable to keep a composed expression or utter a coherent word as Megatron continued administering waves of pleasure through his frame with his glossa, greedily tasting his fluids.
Steady strokes of Megatron’s glossa brought Starscream closer and closer to overload, and when the warlord felt a tickle of an electric charge of nearing climax on his glossa he wedged a finger into his valve, giving enough extra friction to bring the jet to the finish line.
Starscream’s legs crossed and tightened around Megatron’s helm, essentially locking him between his thighs as he audibly overloaded with a choked sob, arching into the warlord’s lips. Megatron’s face was pushed into the Seeker’s valve by his legs, allowing him to lap up the mess he made of lubricants from the oversensitive valve.
While still panting, Starscream started to calm down, releasing Megatron from the strong grip of his thighs, his frame kept twitching with small aftershocks of intense pleasure. With Megatron’s grip loosening, he reclined onto his back onto the desk. Megatron only got up from between the Seeker’s thighs when his glossa was satisfied tasting the Seeker.
“Dry your face,” was all he could say when Megatron leant over him to meet his optics.
Megatron didn’t, instead he leant down and kissed him, a lazy, sloppy, affectionate kiss. His large servos moving to pin the Seeker down by his wrists next to his helm, but gently rather than his usual iron grip. Starscream moaned into his mouth, again nipping lazily at Megatron’s to tease him into deepening it.
“You pleasuring me isn’t much of a punishment,” Starscream said when his breathing calmed enough to form a full sentence, face now bearing an attractively smug smirk. “You didn’t even make me beg.”
“It’s not like you to think I’m done with you, _Starscream,_ ” he purred his name into his audial, the Seeker quivering in response.
He offered Starscream a servo, which he took with a look of scepticism, and pulled him off the desk to stand up. Not a moment passed before the Seeker was spun and bent over the desk, bright red aft out.
“Oh, so _now_ you want to feel superior again, fragging me over a desk from behind, hm?” Starscream sneered, “I don’t mind though.”
He angled his legs apart, jutting his aft upwards to give Megatron access to his still exposed valve. |
321b1a5ed23a42cd98dd9ef883079ed4 | ['fe7936bf44ad4bf5a7ce8aa76ad5bb66'] | I love you more than life itself (and then some more)
Circus was a necessity.
A single mother, dead father, and 8 children. With no way to provide for them.
***
I was one of their best. I would go places they said.
On his first mission _they_ all died. I didn't feel a thing as I watched them fall left and right.
Not for a lack of empathy but rather for a lack of care to feel such a thing. The lack of care created from a world full of pain and suffering as the only viable emotions.
***
I met _him_ on the field.
I was bleeding out and feeling the coldness creeping in. _"_ _The feeling of death creeping in" I_ thought darkly.
"You idiot!" I caught faintly and jerked to look up unconsciously at the voice.
_"Pink. Angelic."_ Were my first thoughts of the man getting on his knees to check on me.
"Are you listening to me? This injury could have been avoided if you weren't off in your head, imagining only god knows what."
I smiled crookedly. This angelic being was worried. About _me._
***
He worried about you, where your own family sold you for the money without a second thought.
***
It was the first time I saw hope for a future that wasn't empty. That wasn't a never-ending nightmare of loneliness.
It was the first time I fell in love.
And I knew...the last.
For it did not matter if this man never loved me back.
For this man saw me as someone to be worried about, where others would see me only as a potential tool that could be fixed and used again.
***
I later learned his name to be Akari ( _Rolls right off the tongue doesn't it? Akari_ ). A teacher at Kuronomei.
A being so blunt as to be considered rude but with such kindness as to be breathtaking in full view.
***
Circus was his last option in life.
But the first place he learned to dream.
Learned to dream of something more.
Learned to love.
And see beauty in that love. | 968ed50032a44a66a99daec191a65142 | ['fe7936bf44ad4bf5a7ce8aa76ad5bb66'] | Blood.
Limbs.
Bones peaking through ribs and arms.
It was a nightmare come to life.
I glanced at Hirato out of the corner of my eye. He hadn't left my side since this had started.
People were dead or dying all around us and we couldn't do anything.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I needed to think clearly. Hirato was breaking down in front of me. It was finally starting to sink in. People were dying. Innocent people were being ripped to shreds.
I turned around to face him.
"This is all my fault" he whispered.
No, it's-" I started.
"It is. I should have known better than to bring you here without having the area checked."
Hirato sounded vulnerable. Scared. He looked like Hirato but he didn't sound like him.
I needed to do something. I was losing him and losing him fast.
So I gave him an anchor to hold on to. Something that wouldn't let him drown.
I put my arms around his neck and kissed him.
It wasn't a kiss that was sad, desperate, or their last. It was quick and chaste. A peck compared to their previous kisses.
"This isn't your fault. No one could have predicted something like this would happen. But now that it has we have to fight.
He looked unsure of himself at first but then he gave a faint smile.
"I don't know what I would do without you."
"Probably die, without someone to talk some sense into you."
Well, then I'm glad I have you."
**Author's Note:**
> It's been a while.
> Hope you liked this. |
88db6934fa1a427bbe458bcc2e495494 | ['feac958f9d0441e2859d6ca6c64eae18'] |
If I Falter, Will You Reel Me In?
**Author's Note:**
> This fic was inspired by LINK and is really the reason the whole thing came together in the first place. I tried to avoid as much of the manifest destiny shtick as possible.
>
> All the thanks to LINK for being my delightful beta.
>
> **Trigger Warning** : Blood (non-kink)
The sky is overcast and the smell of rain lingers in the air, but the drops refuse to fall. There comes a rumble of thunder from across the mountains and into the valley where the little cabin and barn sit, at the edge of the wilderness. At the edge of the world.
The humidity glues Stiles’s shirt to his skin as he raises the axe again and splits the oak long into two. The two sides scatter. He knocks the axe into the stump, picking up the pieces and tossing them onto the wheelbarrow. He reaches for another log, praying for wind, a breeze, a gust - anything. This week of October has stretched like a hot iron and shows no signs of cooling.
But it will and winter will drop like a hawk on a rabbit. It will be the second winter they spend in the homestead, he and his father. Carving an existence two thousand miles from everyone they’ve ever known makes Stiles’s hands shake every morning. Just as they shake now, as he glances over his shoulder where his father and Derek labor in the field.
His father guides the mule and Derek forces the plow. They need to get this field tilled before the snows start, even though no one tills at this time of the year. Last spring the ground didn’t give. The crop was stringy and pale. They’d planted everything too late and harvested as late into the season as they could. Stiles will be making watery corn soup and cabbage throughout the winter.
The plow halts, jerking Derek’s body forward. The mule haws. The ground is rocky - nearly useless to grow anything. Stiles’s father and Derek move to the blade of the plow, reaching hands into soil, searching for the rock
Stiles pries the axe from the stump and but not his eyes away from Derek.
They’d met Derek on the trail, Stiles and his father. Derek raved with fever at one of the forts, stumbling into their path and fell before their oxen. It had taken half a heartbeat for Stiles to leap down and pull Derek into his lap. It took two days for his fever to break. And in the end Derek had nothing: his wagon was completely abandoned and picked over. So all he had left was a mule - who had stood guard over him - and the clothes on his back. The same mule who now waits patiently while Derek wrestles the rock from the soil.
The muscles in Derek’s arms tense and flex as he manages to pry the stone loose. He lifts his arm to wipe the sweat from his brow. Something in Stiles’s stomach contracts. He looks down at the log ready to halve. There’s so much left to do and not enough daylight - there’s never enough daylight - there’s never enough food, or sleep, or warmth. His shoulders burn again has he raises the axe and brings it down with sharp accuracy.
He knocks the axe into the stump and collects the scattered halves again. Today’s work is almost done. There are no more fledgling oaks felled - that is it, until tomorrow when he and Derek set out to chop down more trees. If there’s anything learned from last winter, it’s that it will never be warm enough at the edge of the world.
Laughter crackles from the field and Stiles turns his head sharply. Derek’s smile is so soft; his shoulders shake. His father laughs too, hands on his hips. His father whose glance falls back on Stiles. Falls back to the work that no one is doing any more.
Stiles’s head spins, the world turning to a dark green and gray blur. The heat flares across his cheeks, spreading down his neck. Stiles sweeps his gaze down to Derek’s hands, clutching at the hem of his shirt.
Stiles reaches for the axe and there’s a swift, slick heat at his palm and then his heartbeat is echoing in his fingertips. The blood flows steadily from Stiles’s right palm. The ax had shifted, exposing a point of the blade, slicing a split through his heartline.
Stiles sucks his breath between his teeth. The cut’s shallow enough - no stitches - but when he flexes his fingers a new spark of pain pops from his fingers to his elbow. Stiles pulls his thin linen shirt over his head and wraps it around his hand.
He’s almost done with the wood. Almost.
Until tomorrow. Until they run out of wood and the cold seeps into their bones. Until the soup is just water and stones. Until there’s nothing more they can hack from the land.
Lightning cracks overhead by the time Stiles is finished chopping wood. The wheelbarrow pulls at his arms, strains at the cut on his hand, and steals the breath from his chest. The jingling of the mule’s harness rings behind him.
Stiles and Derek reach the barn at the same time. Stiles drops the handles of the wheelbarrow and Derek leads the mule and plow in first. Stiles gazes at Derek’s back as he goes, sliding his eyes down to where Derek’s pants hug at his backside.
Whether the vibrations in Stiles’s chest are his heart or the bass of thunder are indeterminable. | bf3ed978b12d42fdaeeae310408223b8 | ['feac958f9d0441e2859d6ca6c64eae18'] | Stiles stacks the wood into the pile so it can air out. The sound of Derek patting down the mule fills the barn. She’s all Derek has left of wherever he came from - he never really talks about it. Though the gut-shot of “cholera” was what Derek recovered from; the way Derek talks in his sleep sometimes, like he’s nursing someone murmuring names, makes Stiles know he wasn’t the only one who had it.
Sometimes Stiles remembers Derek’s burning skin under his hands, his damp hair, his fever shakes. Stiles held Derek’s head in his lap, feeding him broth and water a spoonful at a time. Sometimes he can remember when Derek opened his eyes after the fever broke. They were soft one moment - nearly peaceful - and then hardened like ice.
There’s always something you give up to keep on going.
The sky blasts open, the wind arrives in a cold gust, and the rain on the air finally falls. But it’s not rain, instead hail the size of pennies bounce off of the wooden singles. Stiles stands in the door of the barn, the house is fifty feet away, almost invisible through the hail.
“What did you do to your hand?” Derek asks coming to stand beside him.
Stiles’s muscles stiffen and he can feel his ears blush. He glares at where the hail gathers in the trail to the house, “Nothing.”
Derek doesn’t listen though - Derek never listens - he just takes Stiles’s hand and pulls off the poorly twisted bandage. It long ago stopped bleeding. It doesn’t even hurt. Derek leans over Stiles’s hand, twisting his wrist to and fro to get the cut into the little light left.
“How did you manage to cut your hand on the axe” Derek quips; but his fingers gently probe the scab on Stiles’s palm. “Out of everything here, the trees are the least dangerous.”
Derek’s face is right there, his hair hanging over his forehead. Stiles’s breath ruffles the short hairs sticking up in the back and his fingers ache to run through it. With Derek’s hands on his, it almost feels like something - something other than staring at him over fields and across rooms - something other than purposeful distance between their bodies and awkward chatter about crops.
Derek leans forward a little bit more and presses his lips to the center of Stiles’s palm. His breath tickles and sparks over Stiles’s skin. Derek pulls his head back. Stiles stares into a set of pale, strange eyes that seem angry even now.
The air is cold between them and only getting colder. Derek’s hands are so warm, pressing into Stiles’s palm, tight and insistent. It would be so easy to melt.
His hand is steady as Stiles reaches for Derek’s face. Stiles’s thumb traces over a cheekbone.
With a single step forward Derek invades Stiles’s space. Stiles still has his hand on Derek’s face. Derek trails one hand up Stiles’s neck and buries his fingers into Stiles’s hair. Goosebumps irrupt in the trail Derek leaves behind.
With something that burns like panic in his stomach, Stiles kisses him.
It’s still at first - hesitant to even breathe - but Derek’s fingers tighten in Stiles’s hair and the panic melts into thrill.
It’s not gentle - nothing’s ever gentle at the edge of the world. This kiss is a fight, is hands pulling through hair, is a clash of lips and teeth, is fingernails digging into shoulders, is legs sliding against one another. This kiss pounds like the hail on the roof.
Stiles wrenches Derek’s shirt under his hands, desperately clawing for skin. Derek whines when Stiles steps back, but it’s just to tug Derek’s shirt over his head. As soon as it’s off, Stiles presses himself close again, kissing every piece of Derek he can find: jaw, neck, collar-bone, chest. He needs to take in all of Derek before it’s gone.
Derek drags Stiles back to his mouth. Derek’s lips press heat Stiles all over, a hearth fire that never wanes. Each touch just fills him more; the cold seeping from his skin, replaced by the the heat of Derek’s mouth. Where Derek’s lips will go next is all Stiles could ever care about.
Derek’s arms wrap around him, dragging fingernails down his sides. Stiles is being pressed back, back, back against the stack of wood, odd angles and corners digging into him. Derek’s hands are shaking now, resting at the line of his pants. Everything is shaking.
Stiles pulls his head back from Derek, looking into his eyes again. They are pale gray in the half light of the bar, flicking over his face. He stayed - on the trail, at the farm, in the barn. He is here now. They are here now.
Stiles rolls his hips against Derek’s and Derek’s eyes close.
Stiles rocks again, breath hissing between his teeth, sparks rolling up his spine, making his hair stand on end. Derek tilts his head back and moans. So Stiles does it again. And again. And again, until Derek’s lips come crashing back against his own and all they can do is move against one another, legs pressed tight between each other.
When Stiles’s knees go weak, give away, and he falls into Derek, they sink to the ground together. The stones press into Stiles back as Derek’s weight settles over him. Derek rolls his hips hard, pressing his scorching mouth to Stiles’s throat. Stiles can no longer tell who’s voice is the the one saying “yes” over and over again. He can only feel the fire boiling in his belly.
And just when he can’t stand the heat any longer, Derek leans forward and with a breathless voice says, “Stiles.”
Stiles bites at Derek’s shoulder as he comes apart, rocking against Derek, feeling Derek shudder beneath his hands. And even with the insistent urge abated, Stiles can’t stop himself from running his fingers across Derek, pressing his mouth to whatever parts of Derek he can reach. Derek just breaths, faced pressed into Stiles’s chest.
The sound of hail comes back to Stiles suddenly, just as loud as ever. It echos through the quiet between them.
There are words pulling at Stiles’s lips. Things he could say - maybe even should say - but instead he rakes his fingers through Derek’s hair harder, twisting Derek’s mouth to his own, and listens to winter descend on the farm. |
5fa117ffa9294ff9a105d3cb2a10438c | ['feafd07f98164fa49a300caf07cb6bad'] | How long has it been since I’ve been awake? A few weeks? Month and a half, probably. That’s the longest I’ve ever been without Bird since I’ve seen them and I’ve missed them so much but they’ll think that’s lame. So I can’t say that. Not at first.
Oop okay we’re approaching Cetus now.
* * *
_A video recording from a camera aboard Cortana’s Orbiter, kept locked away in Cephalon Ordis’ memory files._
A pair of figures enter the ship, one’s arm slung easily around the other’s shoulders. The slightly shorter one seems exasperated, the dark-haired taller one mumbles something about “Bird in a Zephyr, you can’t tell me that’s not ironic,” and the shorter light-haired one rolls their eyes.
The dark-haired one yanks the scarf away from her face and shakes a hand through her hair, somatic scars briefly exposed before her hair covers them again. “I got you a present too. Sort of. Okay, it’s more like I made you a present, and this is the only time you’ll ever hear it probably, so take those earpieces off. Don’t want your hearing obscured.” She waggles a finger.
“Cortana, will you please get on with it?” asks Bird, obligingly removing their earpieces. Cortana sighs.
She opens her mouth and starts to sing, alto voice resonating through the ship. A gentle tune plays on the Somachord as she sings.
_“Descended from the moon and stars_
_The Tenno, with their guns and arms_
_And it was simple, you and me_
_We had to fight to become free_
_First Sentients, then Orokin fell_
_For both of them we sound no knell_
_Together we could face the world_
_A pair of heroes, our path unfurled_
_Our time to sleep would soon draw near_
_A little faith, a lot of fear_
_We were lost, once_
_We’re found again_
_Together, forever and ever,_
_friends.”_
As her song drew to a close, Cortana buried her face in her hands. “I know it’s shit,” she said, “but I didn’t have too long to put it together and-”
Bird cut her off by enveloping her in an unexpected hug. “The acoustics on this ship are horrible,” they said matter-of-factly before presenting her with a box.
The dark-haired girl tapped it curiously before ripping it open. She took a second to observe the contents, and then…
Cortana’s face cracked open in a massive grin. “Thanks for the wiggly dick sculpture,” she said, clinging to Bird.
Eventually, the other Tenno pulled back. “I think we have some plans to make,” they said. Cortana nodded and stood up, offering a hand to her friend to help them up. They didn’t take it, and Cortana pouted but led the way to the starmap.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> HEY GUYS DID YOU MISS ME
>
> I took a hiatus from Warframe for a few months, and while I missed the entirety of Nightwave Series One I've been plotting with my Warframe-playing friends about our Operators!
>
> I've got a couple of written stories to upload today, featuring Cortana as always, and LINK operator Bird!
>
> I've also made a Warframe Tumblr! While there's nothing actually on it right now ( :'D ) you can find it LINK
8. your war
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Takes place directly after The Second Dream and realistically I should have put this chapter before the last one but here we are.
>
> This is written in first person!
Operator’s log. Hell if I know the current date.
My first memories in—how long had it been? Months, even years?—were shaky feet and cold arms. It’s admittedly hard to operate a Warframe while you’re focused on actual senses that you haven’t experienced in _forever_. Gara deposited me—I deposited myself, I suppose?—in the somatic link and I took a deep breath of recycled air.
_This is who you really are. You are Cortana,_ I reminded myself.
The Lotus and I spoke face to face for the first time. When she was gone, I slumped back in my seat and closed my eyes. So much sensory input! Everything I saw and heard was overwhelming. Thankfully Ordis didn’t seem to feel the need to talk.
I let myself stay like that for a while. Eyes closed, breathing deeply in and out, until I felt okay again. Opening my eyes, I looked around. I didn’t trust my legs to carry me around the ship; I barely knew how to use them. So instead I settled for using my hands and fingers and eyes to explore every inch of the somatic link. It’d been so long since I got to feel something with hands made of flesh and blood and bone and it felt _incredible._
I got to the floor of the link and saw a black cylinder just…sitting there. It looked out of place. Naturally I touched it; it seemed able to move freely so I picked it up. It…was a pen?
I took the pen in my hand and wondered idly how long it’d been since I’d actually used one and how one had ended up on my orbiter in this somatic link I’d never been in before. On the back of my hand, I scribbled furiously.
_From now on, what’s waited til tomorrow starts tonight._
See, the second my ass hit that chair, I got hit with memories. What did you think I was thinking about with my eyes closed? I can’t tell my brain to shut off.
Memories of a familiar face on a ship, their hands squeezed as tightly as I was capable of grabbing. Bird.
A kind face I trusted to always have my back. Katja.
And a grinning face who was the only person I knew that had more energy than I did. Hazard.
Wait ew something’s in my eyes…no I. I guess I’m just crying. Okay.
_[Cortana yawns.]_
I’m going to sleep, I think. But first thing tomorrow?
I find them all.
* * * | 9decc9104d5449909bea1a9dbcd7db1d | ['feafd07f98164fa49a300caf07cb6bad'] | Once
Once, they didn’t hide behind a black honey-scented cloak.
Once, they were she. She was Eleanor Lynn Martin, nee Jackson, wife of Mathieu and mother of Jeanne and Amelia. Mother of Elise, too, but Elise was long, long lost.
Once, she was happily courted by a boy from Paris on the Surface, and she sold all her family’s possessions to afford immortality.
Once, there was a fire. A blaze that consumed and destroyed the shop and Mathieu.
Once, she wrote a letter and entrusted it and her daughters to her parents-in-law.
Once, she fled Paris for the safety of London and the Echo Bazaar.
Once, she bought a black cloak and used it as her mantle to start a new life.
* * *
The Shady Maiden found them in a spire of the Bazaar trying to brew a cup of tea. They answered, puzzled at first and completely forgetting to don their cloak. They realized this as they opened the door, but it was too late then.
A quiet noise came from the other side of the door. “Mother?”
No. It couldn’t be. Amelia was too young; Jeanne looked like her father. Elianoire closed the door.
“Your name was Eleanor Jackson!” cried the girl on the other side of the door. A sharp intake of breath, and Elianoire decided they’d at least hear the Maiden out. They sighed to brace themself and opened the door.
On the other side was the trembling Shady Maiden. She spat out the words before Elianoire could invite her in. “I’m Elise! I’ve been looking for you for a while, and I thought after your husband died-” here the usually-hooded figure flinched “-you’d want to go back home! And then you went to go home to London, but you couldn’t, and I worked at that shop you bought the cloak in! I tracked you down here, it took me a while but I talked to Mr Pages, and…” She trailed off there.
A moment passed where neither of them spoke.
“About three months ago, a girl came to me claiming to be my Elise. I believed her. She was a clever, clever actress. How do I know you’re real?” asked Elianoire, quietly and deliberately.
“You don’t,” she replied. “But listen: I was born October 13th of 1875. You gave me to your best friend Jane Smith, and she told me what she knew of you. Where you were.” Here the girl paused, and Elianoire was starting to believe her. “I got a sip of Cider. Not much, but enough. I went to the Surface for a few days hoping to find you and found people begging me to give them answers instead. Jeanne looks just like Martin did. I’m sorry for your loss.” Elise paused again, and extended an arm out to Elianoire to shake, who took her hand and pulled her in for a hug. Elise was stiff at first. “Oh, Mother…” she whispered, and melted into their arms.
“I haven’t been called that in ages. Please. I haven’t been a good enough parent to deserve a title. Elianoire will do,” they said, turning their head down and pressing their face into Elise’s hair.
“If that makes you more comfortable.”
“Now come in. You’ve so many to meet.”
Barnabas the weasel chattered happily at Elianoire and Elise as they entered the spire proper, and he took an immediate shine to their daughter. More reluctant to come out was Bigby, the scarred weasel skittishly accepting Elise’s scritches. Behind him were Albion the salt-weasel and his beloved Lark, a celebrated singing weasel. Then there was Fitzgerald the dog, who greeted Elise with a burp of F. F. Gebrandt’s finest laudanum.
A handful of other weasels played on the couch. Elianoire lovingly nudged them off and sat down.
“I have to confess, I never thought you’d be a, well, crazy weasel lady,” Elise remarked.
Without looking up, Elianoire picked up Barnabas and pulled him into their lap. “I am no lady,” they replied. “I’ve sacrificed the construct that is gender.”
“Apologies. Crazy weasel person.” As Elise corrected herself, Bigby hesitantly clambered into her lap, and she began to pet him.
“They’re quite good company,” said Elianoire. Bigby made a noise approaching a purr and Elise was inclined to agree. |
3c09e01267294132ab1b127e9d419abf | ['fec09dbd54624f088bf40694e3b93259'] | “Good. We just need you to listen.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Well, then you’re not going home until you do. If needed, we can always locate your brother and take him hostage as leverage.”
_Gil!_ Germany thought, glaring at the men in front of him.
“Now that we have your attention.” Romano leaned closer, “I’m sure you know who we are. Most people should know considering we based our outfits off of our Grandfather’s old one.” Germany bit his lip, glaring at him. “Our Grandfather, as you know, is Rome the Great.”
“He’s no longer fit to hold the title.” Germany growled.
“Hey, I thought you said you didn’t have anything to contribute.”
“He used to be Rome the Great before he betrayed Hetaville!”
“Our Grandpa is a good man.” Veneziano spoke up, glaring at Germany.
“He’s as good as any criminal is.” Germany retorted, causing Veneziano’s eyes to flash with sadness.
“Enough!” Romano shouted, glaring at the bound man, “Yes, our Grandfather betrayed Hetaville but you don’t know the full story.”
“It all ends the same! Rome the Great betrayed Hetaville, but more importantly he betrayed his partner-”
“Your late father.” Romano finished, his focus on Germany, “We know our Grandfather was close to Germania the Great. They were the greatest duo Hetaville has ever seen. But again, you don’t know the full story.”
“Our Grandpa found out something.” Veneziano said, “Something that would put Hetaville in despair. But he couldn’t prove anything. Grandpa tried to find some proof but he was caught and made to look like the bad guy.”
“He didn’t do such a good job in redeeming himself.” Germany hissed.
Germany found himself up against the wall in a blink of an eye and a fist connected to his jaw. He heard Veneziano calling to Romano and Germany was dropped onto the ground. Looking up, he saw angry hazel eyes bearing down at him. It wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever done, but Germany didn’t mind that he angered the man who he butt heads with for several years now. Veneziano’s amber eyes soon met his. They were filled with sadness and anger and for some reason, Germany started to feel bad.
“I really don’t know if we should keep him alive after that.” Romano growled, walking towards a window, “I should throw you out the window and see if you survive to protect your precious Hetaville another day.”
“Romano!” Veneziano exclaimed, “We live here! Besides, how are we supposed to redeem grandpa’s name if we kill Germany? We’ll never be pardoned and never find the truth.”
“Killing would be in your blood.” Germany stated plainly, “Your Grandpa was the one who killed my father.”
Veneziano’s eyes widened for a moment and threw out his leg towards Germany. The man flinched and heard the enemy’s foot hit the wall behind him. Looking to the side, Germany saw that Veneziano’s kick broke the wall. The man never displayed such strength during their previous encounters. Germany certainly underestimated his foes.
“Our Grandpa didn’t kill his best friend.” Veneziano’s voice was filled with anger, eyes glaring down at him. If looks could kill, then Germany would be down for the count. “You should know better than to disrespect his name.”
Germany could well believe that his body was frozen in place. He felt that if he moved even slightly, Veneziano would certainly strike him next. Romano, who was also surprised that Veneziano took such an action, slowly moved to his brother’s side and pulled him away from their captive. He never was one to use physical violence against his opponents. That was Romano’s job. Veneziano was the kind of person who aggravated the enemy with swift movements and simply dodging their attacks. This was one of the few times that he actually attacked someone else.
Veneziano looked away, blinking rapidly as Romano guided him to a chair. “Grandpa would never do such a thing.” He said, voice quiet as he hugged himself, “Grandpa has done nothing but speak highly of Germania. He only ever told us of stories of their adventures as The Great Duo.”
“There’s proof that he killed my father.” Germany said, frowning at the two before him, “A citizen took a video of their last encounter.”
“You don’t know the full story!” Veneziano shouted, glaring at Germany as tears rolled down his cheeks, “Obviously there was some kind of video taken and from an angel that makes it look like Grandpa killed Germania, but he didn’t! You didn’t see how heartbroken he was when he came home. You didn’t see how he cried when that video streamed on the news. He was set up.”
“Who would set up your Grandfather?”
“The same person who’s going to put Hetaville into despair.” Romano spoke up. He walked over to Germany, helping him to his feet and setting him back in a chair. “As we said before, our Grandfather found something out. It was bad enough to go and make it seem like he was betraying Hetaville.”
“And what exactly is this person planning on doing?” Germany asked skeptically.
“From what our Grandfather gathered, there’s a money scam involved.” Romano explained, “There’s more, but we’re not going to delve into it.”
“Why?”
“Because you obviously don’t believe us still!”
“Well, you fail to show actual proof that your Grandfather is innocent. You’re just expecting me to trust you.”
“Why wouldn’t you trust us?” Veneziano cried, “Especially me! We used to be friends when we were younger, remember? You wanted to be my partner when your powers finally came in!”
“’Used to’ are the key words here.” | 47197f1b6cd04351b0bfc6929929ed59 | ['fec09dbd54624f088bf40694e3b93259'] | _Trainee?_ “You’re Ludwig’s coach then?” Feliciano asked.
“Yep! Coach and big bro. Pretty awesome huh?”
“Gil.” Ludwig sighed with a roll of his eyes, “I’m guessing you came to check on my progress even though you said you wouldn’t?”
“Hey, I’m allowed to be worried about you. Besides, I’m glad I did. I told Amy that if she didn’t come she wouldn’t be part of the team. She probably would have guilt tripped ya into lying otherwise.” Ludwig was about to say something on the matter, but Gilbert turned to Feliciano. “Thank you for helping him. You’ve done more than any of the other assistant coaches have ever done. How about you become Ludwig’s partner?”
Both skaters spluttered in surprise.
“Gilbert! That’s not possible.”
“Why not? He’s a good skater!”
“He has a life besides skating!”
“B-Besides,” Feliciano interjected, “I’m no professional. I haven’t had the training Ludwig has. I wouldn’t be of any help.”
“West isn’t a professional either. I’m still trying to get him into his first competition. Besides, I saw you two skating. You both work well together unlike all those other partners I tried to set him with.”
Ludwig growled, pulling Gilbert into a hushed argument. Feliciano watched as the two of them argued, unsure of what to do. Despite just meeting Ludwig, he did feel that the two of them did work well together. He also did dream of skating among professionals. But it was just a dream. It could never come true…right?
“Why don’t we let him decide for himself!” Gilbert said loudly, getting Feliciano’s attention. Ludwig could only huff at the side while the man handed the brunet a card. “I know that this is sudden, but I believe that you and Ludwig would make an awesome team. I’ll let you think it over. Just call with your answer and if it’s a no, you won’t hear from us ever again.” Gilbert turned to Ludwig, a smug smile on his face. “Let’s go West. Time to go home”
Ludwig sighed, getting off the ice before turning back to Feliciano, “Even if you do say no, maybe we can meet again? Just to skate if nothing else.”
Feliciano smiled, nodding happily, “Sounds like fun.”
There was a faint smile in return and soon Ludwig was gone along with his brother. Once Feliciano got off the ice, the familiar sound of the ice resurfacer filled the room with Alfred on top of it. He waved to the other man, a rather smug smile on his face.
“You were great out there! Held that guy there for almost two hours dude. If you say yes, you guys can stay late for however long you guys want.”
Two hours? Now that was a new record. Feliciano made his way out of the building and a warm wave of air hit him. Removing his jacket, the brunet made his way to his car and while he was searching for his car keys, his fingers brushed up against Gilbert’s business card. A small smile reached Feliciano’s face, knowing that whatever answer he gave to the man, he was sure to meet Ludwig again.
**Author's Note:**
> This is an old thing from a Tumblr group called gerita-txt. The group is kinda inactive and idk if the main creator is going to take the blog down so I'm posting my stuff from there here just in case. |
550bbb23231a462cb47e75c72e64c405 | ['fed2cd25bcc842bcbfda1c2c94acb102'] | Oh ok, that’s a good idea! I would retrace my steps. If anything, if I DID drop it, I should hurry and check before it could possibly be found by someone else with mal-intentions. Yes. Sounds good. I would retrace my walk from the bike parking thingy.
And so I did. Slowly. Carefully. Head aimed low. Eyes scanning. Left and right. Left and right. I even checked for possible ranges where it coulda “bounced” to.
Got to the bike. Nothing. Nada. Not a peep.
Shoot, ok so its not here. But there IS still a whole 12 blocks of bike path I would need to check. That could wait though. If it was somewhere along there, it would be on empty sidewalk or on the roadside. I HOPED it could wait. I decided to head back to the bus stoppy thing and ask a nigga there for a phone.
A white man was there. He looked like he had just gotten there. He leaned on the shelter and was unstringing his earphones. He put em on just as I finished crossing the road over to them. I don’t know why, but it was he who I wanted to ask. Maybe cuz he was the one who had his phone out. To this day I still feel kinda bad for bothering him, but oh well it WAS kinda funny. I told him the gist of the situation with fumbled words. He unenthusiastically (seemingly) removed his recently worn earphones, disconnected them, and dejectedly handed me his phone. I stood right by his side without moving away to talk, it was the least I could do for the poor, compassionate soul.
I had no idea what my house phone was (but come to think of it now, i'm pretty sure it didn’t even work at the time, it had been offline for a while, still is offline) and I had no idea what my brother’s phone was either. He was supposed to be the only one in the house. Or so the only one I was aware of. So I resolved to call my mother. No answer. Called my father. No answer. Tried mother again. Answer!
“Hello? Mom”
“Mom look I think I just lost..”
“ I need you to call the house and ask my brother to look..”
“..yes I need you to do that now.”
“Imma try and retrace my bike path to see if I have any luck.”
“Ok ill call you from another phone in a..”
Thankfully, she seemed very pressed to cooperate. Thankfully, she answered. Thankfully, that music-less nice semi-young man allowed me a call. Thankfully, I was off to do some retracing. Freed my bike, got on, slapped it like a wild bronco (not really; that woulda hurt like a *****), and I creeped back all the way through my course, which thank God I was able to successfully remember. The only thing that wasn’t so successful was the actual finding of the phone. I passed over a couple sewers that gave me some very ugly thoughts. At that point, I would’ve rathered find my phone as roadkill on the street, shattered to oblivion, rather than to know someone had gotten a nasty hold of it. I didn’t bother checking the inside of the sewers, if i'm not mistaken, iPhones don’t float.
I reached about 6 blocks from my starting point, nearly exactly the halfway point to my house. At that intersection was my old church on the right, and a Walgreen’s on the left. The Walgreens I thought would be a good place to stop and call. See how the house search was going.
Front register. Old cuban (probably) lady. Told her the gist as well, asked for a phone.
“Go to pharmacy” she told me.
Ok, pharmacy it is I guess. Got there,
“hey they told me here I could..”
They, kinda confused, lent me their cable phone. The cable was getting in the way of a pharmacist and her client. #Yikes. Called the mother again.
“Hey hows the search..”
She told me my brother wasn’t answering. I could not believe it.
“Lemme try again” she told me.
Really? Really, try again?!
He answered, it was a three way call. My brother talked, told me there was no phone to be found. Oh ok good, I guess my mom had advised him before. I told him probable locations to check, gave him a moment or two.. nothing. There was only one thing left to do (besides of course retrace the last 6 blocks).
“Alright look Jair (his name), I need you to go upstairs into my room..”
“..log onto my account, password is..”
“.. go to my bookmarks, go to icloud.com..”
“..click find my iphone..”
“got it?”
“got it.”
I gave him anther moment, at this point I think I was creating a line at the pharmacy, i'm not sure how.
“are you there? What does it say?”
“ooh you want me to do that now?”
(he sounded like he was about to yawn a very sleepy yawn)
YES I WANT YOU TO DO THAT NOW ARE YOU KIDDING ME IM HERE IN WALGREENS RETRACING MY STEPS MAKING A LINE AND YOU THINK THIS—
I refrained from outbursting.
“..yes now, if this was your phone id be on it right away.”
“fine fine im going.”
“Thank you.”
This time I gave him less than a moment (whatever that means or amounts to).
“Where are you”
“its loading”
“ok.”
“Now?”
“it says, ‘requires password’”
“password is..”
“it says”
“yeah?”
“it says”
“yes??”
“it says here”
“yeeeesss?!??!?!”
“it says here on the webpage icloud.com”
OH MY PRECIOUS REDEEMER IN THE MERCIFUL HEAVENS WOULD YOU PLEASE JUS—
“'devices offline.. Devices cannot be located because they are not connected to the internet.'”
4. Episode 3
No.
No..
Just.. No.
“ok thanks for the help.. appreciate it, later Jai.” I hung up.
No. | 585a6e723ccf4932ae999d3a73feb938 | ['fed2cd25bcc842bcbfda1c2c94acb102'] |
My Green Springs Experience
When I first heard news from my mother of a neat, little school she found while searching on the web, I did not expect the latter adjective to be so fitting. I really don’t think she did either. When we first visited the school in person, Mr. Palma gave us a quick tour of the place. Honestly, I thought there was more to the school, but that he simply did not have time to show us the rest (no, I did not ask, and yes, I failed completely to notice the full perimeter of the school before walking in). The classrooms full of computers were definitely something I could respect, but the airport-style security scanner rather unsettled me, to be perfectly frank. I left that visit that day on the fence on how I felt about what I was getting myself into. I didn’t really think about it much from then on, thought the whole school-changing process would be more bearable if I just didn’t worry about it too much. The day came soon enough, though, and sure enough, I found myself walking through the very same scanner I warily eyed some weeks before, without shoes and without a phone. Sure, the zero-tolerance policy may have been intimidating at first, but other than that, I ended up loving my first three days of orientation. I expected loudness and a tedious virtual curriculum, but instead found a sense of community (with how together the school is because of its size) and an academic system that took the meaning of “stress-free” to a whole other level.
The rest of my time here at Green Springs passed mostly uneventful. That is not to say it was any less enjoyed, for the fact. In fact, it was that _very_ fact that has caused me to hold this particular school at the top of all the three high schools I’ve attended in my life. The calmness of the day-to-day is what I think I will miss most about this school. But nonetheless, I will describe the general outline my experience followed up and to this point, along with a particular noteworthy mention I believe could use some limelight, although at the time I thought it held no significance for anyone but me. The days following orientation were eyes full-of-monitor and tongue lack-of-much, as I’m sure most new students are at first. The absence of familiarity from the schools we used to go to, I believe, is the reason we’re so keen to stay glued to Apex the first couple of days or weeks. Now while I remained not-so-spoken for much of the remainder of my time here, my work discipline wasn’t so lucky as to have remained unchanged as well. There came a time a couple months in where I thought it would be fine to “relax a little” and basically do (or not do) the very same thing that got me kicked out of my home magnet school. The amount of daily quizzes completed dropped absurdly; productivity had reached a (very familiar) all-time low. This continued for about a month, but thankfully, intervention came from a very unexpected corner. My teacher was always one to be on top of students who were falling behind, but to this day I suppose he never hovered over me because I wasn’t one to bring much attention to myself during class (and, of course, that I did plenty of work since the start). Yet one fateful day, he called me over personally and pointed out my very strange drop-off in effort. I could not deny it, and he advised that I should pick it up before my parents got the news. Now I have had my fill of familial nagging in life and resolved I could do without some more. To wrap it up: I _picked_ it up. Perhaps not as much as before, but definitely a sizable recovery. Who knew the whole “we'll tell your parents” scheme could finally work after five years of poor grades? I didn’t, that’s who. So I got up to speed and this pretty much continued until the end. Now as for the noteworthy mention – this took place December of last year (2015). To put a long story short, I participated in the Holiday Card submission event, solely interested in making an easy 15 bucks. Never in a million years, though, did I expect my card to come out on top overall and win me the grand $50 prize (as well). I've never had much luck with chance winnings, so this huge reward for such a little card which—if I am to be perfectly honest—I thought could use more work, was, well.. _huge._ Sure, this school might not have had prom and homecoming and big field trips like other schools, but this is a school I positively will not be forgetting, with its smallness and scanner and all!
My hope is to study in the field of graphic design in college. Throughout most of life I could not say for certain what I wanted to do for a living. One area of interest would pop up one after another but I never really found any of them to be something I could hold fast to in long terms. I know at first it was the whole animal fascination, then soccer came along, and even at one point I wanted to become a photographer (even though I had never held a camera in that way in my life). But recently, I have realized that graphic design has held my attention for quite some while now. It is definitely a practice I enjoy and could see myself living on in the coming years. Plus, I’ve seen the numbers and it seems to pay healthily. This high school diploma will essentially be the jump-start to a future in that particular lane. It will help me get a job—as opposed to how more complicated it can be to obtain employment without one—that will help my family take care of the costs for my college tuition (as well as take trivial bills off my parents, but that goes without saying). There was a time when I thought a diploma had fallen out of my reach, but now thanks to this school I know brighter days are all (even more so) within my grasp. |
8b059b85b4934319a5a78e5cae23aae9 | ['fee2dd549aec40a58c30626a7a396931'] | Jump on the Bed With Me?
**Author's Note:**
> Heheh, so I figured I should post something this weekend and I decided to write drunklock because I've been reading that a lot... so enjoy?
>
> Inspired by this prompt: "Imagine your OTP getting drunk and jumping on the bed."
>
> I don't own Sherlock or any of its characters, I'm not making money or getting any other benefit from writing this other than the pure enjoyment of writing, etc., etc. blah blah blah.
"Sherlooock!" John bellowed from his bedroom. "Come in here!"
"No!" Sherlock yelled back, blinking in his drunken haze.
"Yes! Come on. I've got an... er... an idea."
"What kind of idea, John?"
"Uh... an experiment!" John exclaimed, his lips curling upwards with the knowledge that Sherlock couldn't turn down an experiment.
Sherlock groaned. Pushing himself off the sofa, he stumbled clumsily down the hall. "What?" he moaned, turning the corner into John's bedroom and leaning against the door frame.
John's face lit up at the sight of the curly haired man. His cheeks were flushed, making the rest of his face look even paler than it naturally was. His hair fell across his forehead in little curly strands, and his shirt had come half untucked on his right side. John pushed himself up with a grunt so that he was standing on top of his bed. He reached out an arm dramatically, as if asking for a dance at an extravagant royal ball.
Sherlock's brows furrowed. "What are you doing?" he muttered, almost to himself, as if he was trying to deduce just what John had in mind through the fog of the alcohol misting over his usually sharp intuitive skills.
John stumbled, losing his balance, and almost falling off the bed. He caught himself with his arm. Pushing himself back up, he once again raised it towards Sherlock. "Come jump on the bed with me?" he asked, making a face akin to that of a two year old that has just lost their beloved stuffed animal.
Sherlock groaned and fell backwards onto the bed, his head resting next to John's feet. "No, John," he slurred dramatically. "I don't want to. That's ridiculous."
John frowned. "Come on, perhaps we'll even be able to wake up Mrs. Hudson. You know how funny it is when she's both sleepy and angry at once," he said, already beginning to bounce on the worn mattress.
Sherlock giggled at the memories of that. Still, ever stubborn, he stayed put.
John jumped higher, shaking the entire bed with the force of his weight on the weak frame. Sherlock laid as limp as a rag doll, allowing himself to flop about with the movement of the bed. "Well, if you aren't gonna jump, I might as well just jump all the higher to make up for all the..." John trailed off, losing his train of thought. "I have no idea what I was gonna say," he mused, taking a particularly high leap in an attempt to touch the ceiling. "Oh, crap," he mumbled as he landed, twisting his ankle and falling sideways on the bed, right on top of Sherlock, who groaned at the extra weight lying on his chest. Peering down with through his lashes with bleary eyes, he saw John lying across his stomach with a comical pout on his face.
"Hello, John," Sherlock murmured, attempting to conceal the fondness in his voice with a grumpy huff.
"Hi, Sherlock," John returned, giggling. He turned onto his stomach and dragged himself forwards until his face was close enough to Sherlock's that he could feel the other man's breath on his nose. "Hellooooooo," he giggled repetitively.
Sherlock frowned at him. "What do you want, John?" he inquired, blushing at the proximity.
John snorted. "You git," he muttered, bringing a hand to Sherlock's cheek. "Either you're drunk enough to be completely daft, or you're just generally socially inept." He laughed. "I'm gonna go with the latter," he murmured, leaning in closer, closer, until his lips almost touched those of the man under him. He grinned slightly, savoring his moment of complete control and the fact that for once, Sherlock was completely silent.
Suddenly, a pair of lips crashed into his own. Taken aback, John snaked a hand into the mesh of dark curls, trying desperately to keep up with the other man's eager pace. "You bastard," he muttered against Sherlock's lips. "Couldn't even wait to let me celebrate."
Sherlock pulled away abruptly. "Celebrate what?" he questioned, grinning dazedly.
"I just kissed Sherlock Holmes!"
**Author's Note:**
> Thanks for reading! This was my first Johnlock fic ever and my first time writing anyone drunk... and I've never been drunk because I'm 14, but I hope this wasn't distractingly unrealistic? Heheh, I appreciate your feedback! | 191c2c76dce246ff93d3510b76dc7440 | ['fee2dd549aec40a58c30626a7a396931'] | “Yeah, well, here’s another one in April-” Dean set another newspaper clipping down next to Sam. “Another one in December of ‘04,’03, ‘98, ‘92, ten of them over the past twenty years,” Dean said, piling on a newspaper clipping for each date. He scooped up the pile, snatched the clipping he had given Sam , and placed it on top of the pile. “All men, all same five mile stretch of road,” he finished, bracing his hands on the sides of the Impala’s trunk and leaning into its interior. He grabbed a green bag from the compartment and tore it open. “It started happening more and more, so Dad went and took a dig around.” He paused and pursed his lips. “That was about three weeks ago. I haven’t heard from him since, which is bad enough.” He took his phone from the trunk of the car. “Then, I get this voicemail yesterday.” He bit his bottom lip and pressed a button on the phone- hard. The phone crackled on, and the voice of the Sam and Dean’s father came through the tiny speaker:
Dean, something is starting to happen. I think it’s- I need to try- figure out what’s going- it may be- call you. Be very careful, Dean. We’re all in danger.
The audio was riddled with a static-like noise, and at some points it completely overpowered the audio. “You know there’s EVP on that?” Sam asked.
“Not bad, Sammy. Kinda like ridin’ a bike, isn’t it?” Dean joked half-heartedly. Sam just shook his head. “All right. I slowed the message down and ran it through a Goldwave, took out the hiss, and this is what I got.” Dean clicked a button on the phone.
The phone gurgled slightly, producing a sound akin to a heart beating in a pool of sewage. Then, a whispering, feminine voice came through: “I can never go home…”
Dean stopped the message and looked at Sam pointedly. Sam stared at the phone. “Never go home,” Sam repeated.
Dean dropped the phone into the trunk and slammed the door shut. “You know, in almost two years, I've never bothered you, never asked you for a thing,” he said, leaning against the back of the car. Sam looked away. He couldn’t deny that Dad was in trouble, but…
Sam sighed. He looked back at Dean. “Alright. I’ll go,” he conceded. It wouldn’t hurt to help Dean find Dad and then go back to Stanford in time for his interview. “I’ll help you find him, but I have to be back first thing Monday.” He paused. He needed to let Jess know he was leaving and pack his bags yet again. He hadn’t done that in two years. “Just wait here,” he said, turning back to the apartment.
“What’s first thing Monday?” Dean asked.
Sam stopped to look at him. He hesitated. “I have an interview,” he forced out. God, that sounded so pathetic.
“What, a job interview? Skip it,” Dean said. Sam still couldn’t believe how he suggested he skip out on such a thing like it was nothing. He looked at Dean in disbelief.
“It’s a law school interview, and it’s my whole future on a plate,” he shot back, carefully controlling his voice.
“Law school,” Dean echoed.
Sam didn’t want to talk about school with Dean, ever. “So we got a deal or not?” he asked. Dean just pursed his lips.
Sam stuffed a silver scythe into his bag just as Jess entered the room. “Wait, you’re taking off?” she asked. Sam opened his mouth, but Jess continued before he could speak. “Is this about your dad? Is he alright?”
“Yeah, you know, just a little family drama,” Sam said as casually as possible. He walked over to the dresser.
“Your brother said he was on some kind of hunting trip,” Jess pointed out. Sam fumbled for a response. Maybe Dean was right when he’d said Sam was out of practice- he had once been an all-star liar.
“Uh, yeah, he’s just deer hunting up at the cabin,” Sam lied. His Dad didn’t have a house, much less a cabin. “He’s probably got Jim, Jack, and José along with him. I’m just gonna go bring him back,” he finished, not looking at Jess.
“What about the interview?”
“I’ll make the interview,” Sam faked a smile and a small laugh. He lifted his bag and walked to the other side of the bed, setting it back down on top of the comforter. “This is only for a couple days.”
“Sam, I mean, please!” Jess exclaimed. Sam wilted internally. He turned around, trying to keep his smile. “Please, just- stop for a second,” she said. “You sure you’re okay?” she asked.
“Hey, everything’s gonna be okay,” Sam confirmed, smiling and searching her eyes for any hurt or worry. “I promise.” He swept forward and kissed her cheek, then turned and half- jogged out of the room.
“At least tell me where you’re going!” Jess called after him. Sam walked faster.
“Hey! You want breakfast?” Dean asked as he returned to the car, raising his eyebrows and shaking the containers in his hands as if to tempt Sam. They were parked outside of some run-down cross between a convenience store and an automobile repair shop somewhere in the midwest, the first place they had come across on their search for gas.
“No, thanks,” Sam called back in disgust and turned back to the box of cassette tapes he had been studying. “So, how’d you pay for that stuff?” he yelled back at Dean, already knowing the answer. “You and Dad still running credit card scams?” |
e406049b69d946229cfe0575714d400d | ['fee93d189b894173a3d2e877fc16f3a1'] | Don't Call Me Surely
If Byakuya would have his way, he’d be reading by himself in the library, with nobody around to bother him. If he had his way, he’d be completely immersed in the autobiography of someone who found a rare economic opportunity in the late 1920’s and made their way through hardship to fame and fortune, not once having to look up from those pages or acknowledge the world around him. Unfortunately for him, fate had other plans.
Or, rather, Makoto Naegi had other plans.
Today was one of the days that Makoto decided to go and hang out with Byakuya instead of someone else (though Byakuya couldn’t fathom _ why _ ). Byakuya didn’t look up from his book or acknowledge the smaller boy at all when he entered the library, but the other didn’t seem to notice or particularly mind. Instead, Makoto simply sat down in the seat next to Byakuya at the table he was at.
Continuing to try to ignore the person next to him, Byakuya just continued to read. It became gradually easier to tune out Makoto’s presence as he got reimmersed in his book. Maybe he wouldn’t be bothered today after all.
“Can I read with you?”
Oh, maybe not.
Not even sparing the boy a glance, Byakuya answered with a curt, “No.” He didn’t spend much time thinking over that answer; he’d much rather just read in silence by himself. Surely Makoto could understand that.
“O-Okay,” came the response from his side. His tone didn’t sound disappointed; Makoto probably didn’t expect any other sort of response from Byakuya.
Still, Byakuya couldn’t help but glance up from the pages. What Makoto’s voice didn’t betray, his body language did. He still didn’t look terribly disappointed, maybe more bored than anything, but his downcast gaze as he traced his nails across the wooden tabletop left Byakuya feeling like Makoto should be doing **something** other than just wasting his time twiddling his thumbs. Surely he didn’t feel responsible for Makoto’s boredom; no, of course not. His boredom is his fault. And surely he didn’t really care to share his own interests with Makoto. Surely.
Even so, perhaps out of pity, Byakuya let out a quick sigh and changed his mind. “Alright, fine.”
The response was immediate. Makoto looked up so quickly that his hair ruffled itself with the wind it swept through. “Really?”
Byakuya angled the book towards Makoto in lieu of an actual reply. The boy scooted his chair closer to Byakuya and glued his eyes to the pages in front of the two of them, looking interested. Making no effort to get Makoto caught up in the story so far, he simply told him, “Just so you know, I read at my own pace, so try not to get left behind.” Spotting a nod out of the corner of his eye, Byakuya returned his own attention to the pages in front of him.
Neither of them attempted to start up any conversation about the book. They both read in silence, the only noise permeating the space between them coming from the ticking of the clock on the wall or the soft turn of a page.
It was harder than expected for Byakuya to immerse himself back into the book. It wasn’t of his own volition that he couldn’t shake the awareness that Makoto was sitting right next to him, and he could help but stop every so often between lines to consider elaborating on something for the person by his side. It was becoming increasingly harder to stop himself from dumping several dictionaries worth of historical knowledge onto Makoto. After all, Makoto was surely very lost, having begun reading right in the middle of the book. And surely he didn’t have much knowledge about the historical context surrounding that autobiography. Surely he’d need help piecing it together. Surely.
However, before he could gather himself to begin a (probably one-sided) conversation with Makoto, Byakuya felt something press up against the side of his arm. Breaking his gaze away from his book, he found Makoto leaning against him… fast asleep. Of course.
Part of him wanted to be angry at Makoto for dozing off while reading something so interesting, or for just falling asleep while spending time with him in general, but Byakuya found it difficult to do so. This wasn’t exactly how he wanted to spend time with the other boy, but even so, there was something about this that he didn’t mind. Makoto wasn’t a loud sleeper by any means; the clock ticked louder than he breathed, and Byakuya probably wouldn’t have noticed if he fell asleep if he hadn’t leaned up against him. He looked comfortably fast asleep.
Maybe he couldn’t bring himself to be upset because this meant that Makoto had felt comfortable enough with him to fall asleep like this. He wouldn’t have dozed off if he was nervous, right?
Finding himself unable to bring himself to wake up the boy leaned against him, Byakuya resolved to simply chew him out once he woke up by himself. After all, even if he couldn’t bring himself to mind this, it was still Makoto’s fault for falling asleep while the two of them were reading. Surely he’d have some strong words for him by then.
Surely. | 7a71eb1f3c4849ff861dd967c2ce3a9e | ['fee93d189b894173a3d2e877fc16f3a1'] | You take about as long as you did last night to get the lumps of dough in the oven, even with the occasional pause to wrack your brain for details you received in your dream. By the time the oven is heating up, your brother has moved out of the kitchen, much to your relief. However, you consider for a brief moment that he might be the wiser of the two of you; evacuating the kitchen in order to avoid smells similar to last night was a pretty smart move. Recoiling at the possibility of getting the same outcome as last night, you barely manage to stand your ground to watch the oven.
In the middle of your wallowing in fear for the inevitable disappointment that's going to be this turnout, something peculiar happens. The oven begins emitting a scent, chocolaty and warm. You draw near, eyes wide. You eagerly turn on the oven light to peer inside, and what you see fills you with a sense of pride you only last experienced when you found you aced your calculus final back in your sophomore year of college. The timer rings on top of the oven, and you pull out the hot tray, almost forgetting to arm yourself with thick oven mitts before handling the metal. Delicately, carefully, you place the tray on the empty stove to cool. Moments later, you ease your work off of the metal with a spatula, piling it all onto one plate.
With a chest swelled full of well-deserved pride, you place the plate of fresh cookies on the table.
You break your elated stupor to remind yourself, much to your dismay, that you can't count this as a complete victory until you actually taste one. Not only that, but it has to taste _good_.
You lift one of the warm treats off of the plate, handling it as though you're about to appraise a fragile glass figurine, and hesitantly bring it to your lips. You take a tentative bite, letting yourself assess the texture, the taste, the feeling of the warm cookie gracing your whole mouth. Your eyes slowly shut as your reservations melt away, and you let yourself savor your miraculous creation.
Your work paid off. You've succeeded. You have crafted a perfect batch of cookies.
Finishing off the morsel with a few more swift bites, you open your eyes to- oh? Your brother is standing just at the entrance of the room, peering at you from around the corner. He looks like he's ready to take cover, as though he's expecting something to detonate.
Still high from recognizing your success, you raise the plate of cookies up and give your brother an uncharacteristically confident smirk. This does nothing but make him suspicious, if not intrigued. Your brother cautiously rounds the corner and approaches as you hold the plate out for him. He raises an eyebrow before accepting a cookie, giving it an interested sniff before taking a bite. You watch with baited breath as he chews, letting himself assess the taste just as you had done a moment ago. You don't have to wait long before you see him give the cookie a surprised and, to your elation, _impressed_ look. This is enough to make you grin in absolute joy.
Your prompt excitement leads you out of the kitchen with the plate of cookies, and you have to remind yourself not to run through the house while you seek out your parents. You find them in the living room, and upon entering they each give you an inquisitive glance.
Just as you'd done with your brother, you hold out the plate to them.
Your family accepts to try some of your cookies. |
e1b2dfa6d4b742249d125d7d44562269 | ['fef3a577eb23419e9ed9a7a69a4d9779'] | Those are both valid concerns. But Tsumugi’s far more worried about the fact he’s never been interested in a woman in his life. It must be bound to happen someday, though, if he keeps applying himself. He’s always been a late bloomer, anyway.
(As if any woman in the world could hold a candle to Tenshouin Eichi.)
“You’re right, of course. But still, I was hoping you might be able to do a love reading for me. Because I’d like to bring her some good news, if I can, even if I can’t actually introduce her to my future wife yet.”
Weirdly, Natsume eyes him up for a long moment before he says anything. And when he speaks, there’s something a little sharp in his tone – well, there always is, but this particular knife-edge is new. “You realise I’m much more than a cheap Horoscope, don’t You? My fortunes are incredibly Accurate, and not everyone is equipped to deal with the details I can provide Them. So, Senpai, I’ll ask again just to make Sure: do you really wish for me to gaze into the future on your Behalf?”
“I do. I’m asking you because I trust your ability, after all.”
“Well… all Right. Then I’m going to fetch the things I Need.”
He stands up and heads towards his room. In his absence, Tsumugi tidies the kitchen, and then sits back down to wait.
Natsume re-emerges only a minute or two later, carrying a large crystal ball wrapped in cloth. The base peeks out from the bottom, woven in silver filigree. He has a number of different ones, Tsumugi knows, but tends to fall back on this particular one for most readings. It was the first one he ever owned, and he trusts it the most; it was a gift from his mother, as soon as he began to show psychic ability, and he treasures it more than just about anything. He sets it down gently on the kitchen table, then whisks off the cloth with a flourish to reveal the crystal underneath. Its depths are inscrutable, unknowable. Reflecting nothing.
“Stop gaping like a Fish,” Natsume says, and Tsumugi comes back to himself. “If you’re certain you want to go through with a Reading, then we’re going to do it Properly. Go dim the lights and draw the Curtains.”
By the time he’s finished doing that, Natsume’s produced an array of candles from some hiding place in the pantry, and laid them out on the table. He lights them one at a time, and the scent of different herbs fills the air. Tsumugi takes his seat opposite, watching the play of firelight on Natsume’s face.
“You didn’t have to go all-out on the atmosphere for me, you know.”
“It isn’t about You. I find it easier to focus when I’m in this kind of Environment, regardless of my Client.”
“Oh. I don’t think I knew that.”
“You never Asked.”
“Well, it definitely feels kind of occult in here. But it’s a little nostalgic, too. Like we’re in the secret room in the underground archives again.”
“Don’t get sentimental on Me.”
“Then I must be wording it badly. What I mean is, I always feel like I’m caught in a different world, somehow, when it’s raining. A world where I might be the only one who exists, even if I’m safely indoors. And the dark and the candles make me feel even more like I’m… somewhere that isn’t here.”
For a long moment, the rain outside is his only answer. He half-expects some roll of thunder to intrude on them, or some uncanny breeze to sweep in and snuff out the lights, warning them once and for all that this is a terrible idea. But nothing of the sort happens, and the strange tension that’s snaked its way between them goes unbroken. Natsume turns a pale yellow candle between his thin fingers.
“Good. Because – this reading is supposed to show you the way toward your Future. Not be the product of some Miserable, worn-out Sentiment.”
It’s always difficult to pick out when he’s being particularly serious, but this time, Tsumugi thinks he might be. There’s just something about the particular twang of his voice which suggests it, a kind of flatness to his vowels. “It isn’t, but why do you sound so unhappy about the idea? I know neither of us has the most idyllic past, but that doesn’t mean I can just forget about it, or that there aren’t parts worth remembering. And I was always happy in the archives, with you.”
“I don’t want to talk about this right Now, and you need to stop being so difficult Anyway. If you keep arguing with Me, you’re going to throw me Off, and then I won’t be able to perform the divination you Requested.”
“I didn’t mean to be difficult, though.”
“That doesn’t Matter. You’re somebody who gets underfoot Regardless, whether you mean to or Not.”
“Oh.”
Natsume sighs. It makes some of the candles gutter dangerously, but none go out. “It wasn’t intended As – Look, can we get on with the reading Already? The longer we Talk, the less smoothly this is going to Go.”
And that’s really the crux of the whole thing, isn’t it: that the pair of them get along well, enough to still be this close, right up until they actually speak to each other. Tsumugi makes himself drag his eyes up to his housemate’s face. “You’re right, I think. How should we begin?”
“Focus your Energy, and ask your question of me once More.”
“Okay. Well, I’d like to ask about what’s in store for my love life. I want to know about my future partner, if I have one, and what they’re like… and if I’ll be able to meet them soon.” | a1274f1d18ce43eaace0fdfbe08ce797 | ['fef3a577eb23419e9ed9a7a69a4d9779'] | So he whiles away the afternoon as best he can. Packs and repacks his bags; cleans and polishes his weapons until they shine, even though he’s already done that today; drafts half a letter to Dorothea, before he realises he’s dancing around the point again, and promptly scraps it. Sits down with a tome about magic, as much to burn an hour as to brush up on his reason skills. Switches to faith; goes back to reason when he remembers there’s nothing left to pray to. Gives up about half an hour before he’s supposed to meet with Byleth, and heads to the Goddess Tower anyway.
This place hasn’t changed, surviving unaffected by the war, or the fickle movements of Felix’s heart. The stairs melt below him, still familiar after all these years. He lets himself be led up in spiral after spiral, the strides he takes to climb them the same, fading into monotony. And yet, it still feels like no longer than a heartbeat before he reaches the top, spies another figure, and steps out into the light. “I’m here.”
Byleth’s already waiting, leaning against the rail, faced towards the stairs. He turns with Felix’s movements, something unmappable crossing his face. It isn’t like him to be restless, since he’s usually far too controlled, but he’s definitely fidgeting as he offers a greeting in return. “You’re early. And here I wasn’t sure you’d come at all.”
“Why? I always keep my appointments.”
“I know that. But it’s just – have you been avoiding me? It feels like you might be.”
“No,” he says honestly. Because he’s been genuinely busy, and if that means he just so happens to have not seen much of Byleth recently, well. “Our schedules just haven’t lined up.”
“Oh, good. Well, in that case, there’s something I want to tell you before I go.”
“Why you’re leaving? You don’t need to explain yourself to me, Professor. You and I were both always going to move on from here eventually.”
“Yes, but also, not quite. Close your eyes, and hold out your hand.”
“You aren’t going to play some kind of trick on me, are you?”
“You’ll see.” Byleth’s eyes are perfectly serious, but there’s the edge of a smile in his voice. “I promise, though, no tricks.”
Begrudgingly, Felix shuts his eyes and extends his hand. Unfurls his fingers, and waits. Then something cold and metallic drops into his palm, chilly in the summer air despite its lightness, and his stomach drops along with it.
“All right,” Byleth murmurs. He sounds further away than he should be, and there’s a strange and sudden tension to the way he speaks. “You can look now.”
Felix opens his eyes again. Looks at Byleth’s gift. Blinks, as if to convince himself that he isn’t imagining things. Almost swallows his tongue trying to speak.
“A ring?”
“It doesn’t have to mean what you think it means,” Byleth says. He’s leaning on the balcony, gazing out towards the monastery grounds, but Felix can tell from his stance that he’s anxious. “It can just be… a promise to meet again. Nothing more than that.”
The worst and most sarcastic part of Felix’s brain, at least, keeps talking. Even if all his higher functions have wound themselves into a tangle over whether or not this is, well… a _ proposal_. “Why do you have that with you?”
“I brought it to give to you, but to be honest, I’m in the habit of carrying it around. It’s all I have left of my father – well, of both my parents. And now it’s something you can have left of me, no matter how far apart we are.”
“Don’t make it sound like you’re going to die. Not again.”
“I’m not planning on it. But Fodlan is a big place, and there’s no telling where either of us will be a year from now. Or two, or five, or ten. But that’s my vow to you that, no matter what, we’ll cross swords again. And when we do, you can give that ring back to me.”
Felix turns his hand, lets the ring catch what light there is left. In the gathering darkness, in the shadow of his fingers, the stones set into it are almost invisible.
“What if I don’t want to?”
“If you don’t want to accept it? That’s fine. To be honest, I wasn’t sure you’d even like the idea in the first place.”
“No. I mean, what if I accept it, and I don’t want to give it back.”
“Felix.” There’s so much feeling bound up in how Byleth says his name. Wonder, and hope, and something stretched taut enough to break. “Felix, I –”
“No, listen to me. Because I don’t know how to say this, or even what I want to say to you, only that I need to say something. I’ve been idling at Garreg Mach too long, and I think it’s because I only just worked out that I even needed to say anything at all.”
He takes a deep breath. “But you’re more than a teacher to me. Probably more than a friend, too. I started off wanting to beat you at swordplay because I wanted to grow stronger, but… after a while, that stopped being the only reason. I think I wanted you to look at me as an equal, too, not just one of your former pupils. And I didn’t know how else to convey that to you, except by force. To be honest, beyond that, I still don’t know how to understand my feelings for you. Or even if I’m not just… making it all up, because I don’t want to lose my best sparring partner. I’m not good with matters of the heart, Professor. But I’ll be keeping this ring. And I won’t be letting you run off to wherever you please, either, at least not alone. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.” |
521dc4b9e1f54e75900b2c90c6582468 | ['ff056986b9834cf9a56c7751da9226d1'] |
the art of not sitting still
**Author's Note:**
> hello i’m back after months of nothing because i crave validation and attention. please comment or leave kudos and let me know you read it and liked it or hated it or whatever feelings you may have about it!! in this house we write short fics and die like men. (perhaps i’ll write a long fic some day but today is not that day)
The first time May noticed his restless legs was when she and Ben first took him in. The two of them chalked it up to him being anxious and young, having just lost his parents. She thought nothing of it for a few years.
When Peter turned eight, his legs shook the table his birthday cake sat on, nearly extinguishing the flames on the candles. Ben placed his hand upon Peter’s knee, ultimately stilling his movements. He leaned close and whispered, “Make a wish, Pete,”. Peter closed his eyes and blew with all of his eight year old might, getting all of the candles in one go. A bright light flashed in front of his closed eyes.
“What’d you wish for, baby?” May asked, placing the camera that had just flashed in Peter’s face on the table. She was grinning.
“I can’t tell you that! It won’t come true then!” The boy giggled, bouncing as he thought of his wish.
He wished to be like Iron Man.
Only one year later after making that wish, Peter stood in the middle of the Stark Expo, newly nine years old. It was arguably the best birthday gift he’d ever received.
He bounced on his heels the entire night, his legs nearly vibrating in excitement.
When chaos broke out, he lost his Aunt May and Uncle Ben. He panicked deep inside, but simply put on his Iron Man mask and tried to find an exit. He found an exit, but he also found trouble.
In front of him stood a machine, something he couldn’t quite place, and he bounced on his heels in fear. _I can be like Iron Man_ , he thought, putting up a brave face as he lifted his arm.
Suddenly the machine was gone, and he turned around in surprise to find Iron Man behind him, a voice coming from inside the suit. “Nice work, kid,” Peter knew that voice like the back of his own hand.
He’d done that. He’d saved himself, and Iron Man complimented him. He sprinted to find his aunt and uncle, unable to still his shaky legs. Peter Parker had saved the day, just like Iron Man.
When Peter is fifteen, he’s recruited by Tony Stark himself. At fifteen, Peter Parker is Spider-man. He’s a hero, just like he’d wished to be when he was eight, and just like he was when he was nine.Of course, now he knows he wasn’t the hero of the Stark Expo, but the nine year old inside him begs to differ.
Tony Stark asks him to suit up and head to Germany to fight Captain America. Peter says yes, because he can’t really say no to his childhood hero, can he? He thinks it’s some sort of unspoken rule: if Tony Stark asks you to fight Captain America in Germany, you fight Captain America in Germany.
So he does. He gets into a car with a man named Happy, who really isn’t all that happy. He tells him to quiet down, to stop shaking his legs so much, and even shuts the window between them. Despite his best efforts, Peter can’t sit still.
There’s an itch deep inside him, whether it be nerves or excitement, and he just has to move. He stills for a movement, then starts shaking his legs back and forth, much quieter than before. Happy doesn’t say anything, so he assumes he’s fine.
Peter does his best to sit still while on the airplane. His mouth talks a mile a minute, but he fights the uncomfortable feeling inside telling him to move his body. He bounces his legs when Happy falls asleep.
The second Happy wakes up, he stops, pretending to look out the window.
Peter Parker hates sitting still.
-
Peter receives radio silence from Tony Stark for months after Germany. He thought he fought pretty well, minus Captain America dropping a boarding ramp on top of him. He contacts Happy daily, and he even tries contacting Tony directly. He gets nothing back from either of them. At one point, he even debates emailing Pepper Potts, but decides against it.
Every day, he’d sit in class with his legs bouncing under his desk. He’d accidentally shake the lunch table, making Michelle glare and Ned kick him under the table, and he’d stop. Peter was already full of nerves, but the radio silence from Iron Man only made it worse. He moved his legs away from Ned and waited for Michelle to stop glaring before he started tapping his feet, making sure to not shake the table.
He’d lay in bed at night shaking his legs, unable to sleep. He’d listen to the sounds of the city around him and wait until sunrise.
Peter always felt the need to move, but the world was still.
May noticed his restless legs again when he was fifteen. Peter hadn’t been sleeping, he’d eat breakfast while pacing around their small kitchen, and he’d even do his homework while walking back and forth.
So she talked to him.
He’d told her it was nerves, she told him it was more than that.
“I’ve just been stressed, ya know? With- with the S.I. internship and homework and decathlon,” he rambled, wringing his hands out.
“If you say so, Pete,” May smiled, and patted his knee, the same way Ben used to. Peter’s heart ached for a moment. “Just make sure you’re getting some sleep, alright? I can’t have you moving around all day when you’re not sleeping,” | ba51be23062a418dbbdd9a1f5fdaaea5 | ['ff056986b9834cf9a56c7751da9226d1'] |
the future needs heroes
**Author's Note:**
> hey it’s me back with another winn leaving and brainy being sorry fic!! it’s basically just another version of my last winndox one. the inspiration for this was the one line brainy had in the preview for the next episode.
>
> also, happy pride!!
The Legion’s return was unexpected, to say the least.
Winn was sure he wouldn’t see them for a long time after their departure from Earth, more specifically, the present. But Winn’s life never went according to plan so here he was, standing across from Brainy and Imra inside the DEO.
“With the Blight gone, the future is safe,” Imra reassured the worried group, watching as each of their faces relaxed by only the slightest. “But we do have another problem.”
“There’s a virus in the future that is affecting Coluan’s. It’s deadly and, so far, incurable. There is treatment for it but it seems to only be slowing down the process. I must stay here in the present until it is safe for me to return.” It was Brainy who piped up, the circles underneath his eyes dark, a rival to Winn’s own. He was wearing his image inducer, so everyone could see past the shield he upheld when he wasn’t. Brainy was tired, worried, and, frankly, a total mess.
“You’re welcome to stay here at the DEO for as long as you need.” J’onn had his hands on his hips, like always, but there was a soft look in his eyes. Pity, Brainy had concluded.
“Is there anything we can do to help?” Kara was always there to save the day, a helping had constantly at the ready.
He took in a deep breath for lifting his gaze from the table. “Actually, there is. But only Winslow can help.”
Winn flinched at the name, recovering quickly as the information processed. “I-I’m sorry, me?”
“We need you to accompany Mon-El to the future. As of right now, you’re the best bet we have at finding a cure for Brainy. No offense, Alex, but this is more a job for Winn, considering he took down Indigo _accidentally_. He’s had experience with Coluans before and has a better chance of helping them.” Imra tried to assure Alex that they weren’t picking the IT guy over the actual scientist for no reason, but Alex simply waved it away as if to say ‘none taken’.
“I- uh, how’d you know about that? Know what, forget it.” The words flew out of his mouth before his tongue could catch them and Winn wrung his hands nervously.
“The future needs heroes, Winslow. We need your help, _I_ need your help.” The look in Brainy’s eyes was desperate, something the agent had never seen on him before.
So Winn took a breath, shook his hands out, and nodded. “Of course. I’ll go.”
“Are you sure about this?” Kara was at his side, placing a hand on his shoulder. She knew the anxiety was bubbling deep within him, that he was putting on a brave face for everyone. He had a panic attack going to another planet, but the future? Kara was unsure if he could handle that.
“I’m positive.” His words were shaky and Kara was sure he was trying to convince himself rather than her, but she nodded and gave his shoulder a squeeze.
“Then it’s settled. I have all of the information you need on the virus and how it’s affecting people, it’s already loaded onto the Legion ship.” Brainy gave him the faintest of smiles and Winn felt his heart warm. This was for the greater good. This was _right_.
“I’ll be staying here with Brainy until you return, so only you and Mon-El will be going to the future. You’ll be able to have contact with us back here. It’s slow and a bit tricky, but it works.” Imra also gave him a smile, a thankful look on her face.
“We’ll be leaving within the next few days.” Mon-El pat him on the back, before walking away, presumably to prep the ship.
“Winslow, may I speak with you? Alone?”
With a nod, Brainy led them off to somewhere quiet, which ended up being the med bay. Winn sat atop the cot where he lay on his death bed not long ago, and the doubts he had settled. Brainy helped him, it was only fair, and only right, that he did the same for him.
“What’s up?”
“I’m sorry.”
He was taken aback. “What? You have no reason to be.”
“I’m taking you away from your home for my benefit.” The tired brunettes refused to meet the other man’s eyes, which were now much closer seeing that he had hopped off the bed as soon as he apologized.
“It’s to save you and to save the rest of the Coluan’s. What you’re doing is by no means selfish, Brainy.” He put a soft hand on his shoulder, watching as he looked at it, perplexed. He didn’t know what it meant to be comforted.
“Okay.” It was firm, but there was doubt laced into it.
“Okay.” He went to remove his hand and turn, but Brainy caught it just as it fell back to his side. He reached for the other man’s face as he had done just before his departure a short while ago, but this time, Winn didn’t stop him.
Winn didn’t push his hands away and go for a hug again, he let the Coluan cradle his face and pull him down close, into a kiss that should’ve taken place the first time. He put his hands on his waist and gently tugged him closer. Just as Brainy’s hands fit perfectly cupping the back of his neck, Winn’s hands fit just as well around the other man’s waist.
Their kiss was slow and sweet, for both of them wanted to savor the moment before they left the other.
“Thank you, Winslow.” Brainy whispered as they parted, finally looking him in the eyes.
“No need.” Winn smiled and pecked him on the lips, watching as he mirrored his smile.
Everything would be okay. |
82f02a659412401496b172fb6fc2f661 | ['ff17b062f25c42b6a84ee671006bc110'] | Nora winced at the sound of Sam's voice in her ear, she knew she should have said something. Warn him at least. The truth was, Rafe had always had a thing for her from the day they'd had all started working together fifteen years ago. But only ever acting on it after losing Sam in Panama. But her heart had always belonged to Sam. So even after years of trying ; he still hadn't gotten anywhere. It was only in the last three years or so that Rafe had gotten back in contact; continuously asking for her help in finding Avery's treasure. But along with the job offers had also come the dinner invitations, the flowers and gifts in his ridiculous attempt to 'woo' her.
_"I wouldn't worry about it Sam. Rafe's been trying his luck with Nora for years. Never gets anywhere."_
_"Well how long has that scumbag been trying to get into her pants?"_
_"Not long after Panama."_
_"You kidding me?! What he couldn't wait a couple years after I died to make a move on my girl?! Who the hell does that?!"_
_"Sam relax-"_
_"Oh I'll relax! When get that cross I'm gonna-"_
Nora coughed away a small giggle at the brothers _,_ her fingers covering her wine-stained lips. Hoping Rafe hadn't noticed.
"Something funny Nora?"
"No I just...all this fuss over Avery's cross again it just reminds me of the old days."
"Well like I said you wanna get back in the game, you just say the word."
"And what makes you think I'd be interested after everything I lost last time."
The bitterness in Rafe's laugh almost soured her wine at the mention of Sam. Slipping his hands in his white tux pockets and leaning back on his heels.
"Oh I get it. This is about Sam. Even after all these years you're still pining over him huh?"
"Why? You still jealous?"
"I was never jealous Nora. I just always thought you could do better."
_"Okay that's it! Kick his ass baby! Actually I'll do it..."_
_"Sam cool it! We have a goal here, you need to focus."_
_"Oh I'll focus...when my fist is flying across rich boy's nose!"_
"You seriously think insulting Sam will get you anywhere with me?"
Her blood turned cold as the tone in his eyes changed, that same darkness she remembered years ago. That same look Nate told her about in Panama. He leaned in close, his lips almost brushing her ear. To the point she could hear his every breath against her own.
"I'm just being honest Nora; something Sam could never do. I'm just hoping that eventually you'll realize that you made a mistake all those years ago. Choosing Sam over me. I mean he always put that treasure before you right? It's no wonder he got himself killed in the process. Never even gave you a second thought."
"I...He never..."
"Sorry to interrupt but I think the next auction is about to start; you might wanna find your business partner Rafe."
She had never been more grateful to see Sully in her life. It threw her how Rafe could quickly go from dark and cold back to warm and suave in an instead. Flashing them both a charming smile and bowing his head.
"Sure thing. Nice seeing you Víctor. Nora, my offers still on the table if you want it."
She said nothing as he walked away. Her hands trembling, lips quivering. Her eyes welling with tears. Thankfully pulled back to herself from the comforting squeeze of her arm and warm smile from Sully.
"You okay sweetheart?"
"Yeah. Thanks Sully. Nate I think we're all set down here. Sam you in position?"
_"Yep. Nora you okay...I heard what Rafe said-"_
"We'll talk about it later Sam."
_"Right."_
She took a deep breath when the auctioneer began taking bids for the cross and kept close to Sully. Her wandering eyes glaring at Rafe as he shouted his price. The old man nudged her shoulder grabbing her attention, a sly smirk growing on his lips.
"Okay, let's ruin this asshole's evening." | 2cd8a827935c4d4792b690fdd1457f3b | ['ff17b062f25c42b6a84ee671006bc110'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> I took the plunge and finally wrote a reader/Arthur oneshot! Was it a mistake? Probably. Is it any good? Probably not. Do I regret it? Nah!
>
> So this is obviously based off of the fishing trip with little Jack from the game but I’ve changed some things around. I hope it’s okay as I still not 100% confident with reader inserts. Part two will be posted soon and will feature Arthur. Hope you guys enjoy!
As a young girl, you never thought you ever would’ve lived such a life as you had. On the run from the law after committing numerous crimes, you hadn’t thought twice about for the sake of a big payout. Living out in the wilderness with a gang that welcomed you among them; to the point you had eventually become family.
Robbing and scamming your way through the country with them as the years passed by. Well and truly proving yourself as a valuable member to Dutch and Hosea.So it wasn’t a surprise when you married Arthur; the two of you taking more jobs together; to the point your protective bond had blossomed into something more.Most had expected it sooner or later, and couldn’t have been happier the day you came back to camp with the news that you were finally man and wife.
Then Blackwater had happened and you’d never been more afraid to lose your husband than you had been in the weeks following the massacre.
When you reached Horseshoe Overlook, it had been a moment to take a much needed sigh of relief. The camp itself was beautiful, peaceful and had a breathtaking view over the cliff edge. You’d stayed along with the other women making the camp as homey as possible while the men scoped out the town and Dutch contemplated your next move.
You could sense the strain it was taking on Arthur though; riding out every couple of days to take care of job after job. Fetching an endless supply of things people had requested. But knowing your husband as you did watching him doing everything with a courteous contented smile; you knew deep down he needed a break.
Which was why, you practically jumped at the opportunity to spend some time away when Abigail had quietly asked if you both minded taking Jack out for a while. At first it had started with the idea of a simple fishing trip but you managed to convince her to let you take the young boy on a camping trip for the night. With the promise of not traveling too far away from camp.
Just far enough away to give you all the quiet you’d all craved in the busy chaotic weeks it had taken to get to your new spot.
So you’d watched from afar as Jack; sat just in front of his Uncle Arthur, playing with the mare’s wispy mane by the top of her withers as you rode down the path towards the woodland by the river. When you found the perfect spot, you both made quick work of hitching the horses to graze, pitching the tent and lighting the campfire while Jack picked the flowers he found by the tree stumps. Watching his Aunt and Uncle darting back and forth with childish amusement on his little face.
Arthur had promised to teach him how to fish the next morning; though the boy hadn’t seemed all that excited about it. But you had a feeling once he’d gotten the hang of it, it might be quite fun for him to learn a new skill.
As the evening settled in, you realized foolishly you’d forgotten to bring anything for your supper and Jack’s stomach was growling loud enough for you both to hear. Fortunately Arthur had brought his bow and rifle offering to ride out to catch something.
You’d protested at first; worried about being left to watch over Jack by yourself. You loved the little boy as you would your own but that didn’t mean you didn’t doubt your skills when it came to motherly instincts. It somewhat surprised you when Arthur expressed his unshaken confidence in your abilities however and you were left rather speechless as the Outlaw rode off further down into the forest leaving you and Jack alone.
As the sun began to set; you admired the beautiful rays of light that were slowly dying away behind the horizon.
“Aunt Y/N, when is Uncle Arthur coming back?” Jack piped up. “I’m so hungry.”
You smiled taking a seat beside him at the roaring fire.
“Aw don’t worry Jack; I’m sure he won’t be long…”
The sudden rustling in the trees caught your attention as you pulled Jack closer; as first you suspected it to be Arthur on his way back but you quickly realized…you were very wrong.
“What a fine young man, and in such complex circumstances.”
Keeping your hand firmly on Jack’s shoulder, you gently guided him behind you as you glared at the well dressed men slowly pacing towards you.
“Y/N…right? Y/N L/N? Or is it Morgan now?” The man smirked menacingly.
“What do you want? Who are you?” You snapped.
“We’re looking for someone actually…your husband as a matter of fact.” He stood back; placing a hand on chest before gesturing to the man beside him.
“Agent Milton; Agent Ross. Pinkerton Detective Agency.” As you took a closer look at the men in their well made suits, it was then you noticed the badges pinned to their jackets and your stomach dropped at the revelation.
You needed to get rid of these men before Arthur got back to camp and you needed to do it quickly.
Milton strode forward, his hand coming to rest upon his holstered pistol. You weren’t sure if he was planning to use it but you were damn sure you’d use yours if the situation called for it. |
e8fb31f05cc64d55b4f98d591ef217f6 | ['ff3a5a7fca6943b98f863b9a90f4e252'] | Moon in my darkest hour
Tony wasn't a sound sleeper. It was in his nature. He always kept fiddling with things. It could be said that he was always hyperactive.
Even in bed he kept tossing and turning until he got some sleep .He always unknowingly desired contact.He was well aware of this and tried to restrain himself, but somehow his hand would end up on Stephen's chest or face buried in crook of doctor's neck or his ankle would be between Stephanie's ankles. Sometimes he would wake up wrapped around Stephen like a koala bear.
Anyone would have got irritated by this but Stephen wasn't . He just smiled at his idiot and made a reminder to tease him the next morning. Out of nowhere the genius would mumble calculations or formulas in his sleep. Stephen found this both funny and cute.
After a hour long sleep Tony jerked awake suddenly .He couldn't sleep but he didn't want to wake up Stephen. He wasn't allowed to go to his lab, so he stared at ceiling for 15 minutes, try to force himself back into sleep. That didn't work and he got bored,he turned around to face Stephen. Regardless of how many times he saw his face, he was always in awe of Stephen's beauty. His face was illuminated by moonlight and it was the most beautiful thing Tony ever saw. He still couldn't figure out what was he attracted to in Stephen. Was it his cheekbones, or the awesome facial hair ,his intellect,maybe the way he can keep up with his snark, his loyalty, or just serene expression in his face.
Tony could never get enough of this face. He was unknowingly tracing Stephen's face,when Stephen opened his eyes. Tony took aback and expected socerer to be irritated or angry, but he just smiled,a genuine one filled with love.That smile that brought warmth into genius's heart and made him feel butterflies in his stomach. Stephen pulled Tony closer and that was all he needed, it was his safe cocoon. The doctor placed a kiss on his forehead and the engineer buried his head and his worries in the crook of Stephan's neck. Both of their smiles still remained on their face, as the room dissolved in joint breaths and light snores.
**Author's Note:**
> Happy birthday Tony Stark. You're my inspiration, my lifeline.You deserve the whole world.
> Kudos and comments are appreciated. | 024e0621966d436cbcbd3ba237b02107 | ['ff3a5a7fca6943b98f863b9a90f4e252'] |
Stay
**Author's Note:**
> Sick fic, lots of fluff.
The sanctum Santorum dealt with many intergalactic species and threats. One day an alien tech stumbled across the sanctum. On preliminary analysis, the object seemed harmless but Stephen needed a professional opinion just to be sure.
Now who was an expert in any kind of tech on earth other than the genius Tony Stark himself? He met him few times when the world was ending. Stephen found many things common with him. Both were genius assholes experts in their own fields. Plus, Tony was the only one who could match his sarcastic quips.
So Stephen arrived at the Stark tower.
But Friday wasn't letting him through saying that Mr Stark has refused to allow any visitors. He asked Friday to inform that it was an important matter, and he waited for a few minutes. Now he remembered that Tony liked to make people wait for him just to mess with their ego. So without permission, he opened a portal to top floor where Tony stayed.
"what the buck steben, you habe no manners ".Tony was pale and his eyes were red and swollen.And funnier thing was he was covered in an inhuman amount of blankets.
Stephen's anger melted a bit at the sight of Tony. "What happened you look horrible? "
"You cabe al the... way to say that? Thanks " Tony quipped, wiping his nose.
Stephen wondered at the genius's ability to maintain his sarcasm even in his horrible state."Well if you can let go of your ego, atleast for a minute, I can help."
"Considering *achoo* youb are a doctor you should be the one to figure it out. See if yiuve come to argue, *achoo* you can see it's no fun arguibing while sneezing for every sentence ."
Stephen smiled, a genuine one. Not gonna lie he found Tony adorable when he was putting up with the argument with slurred words. He shakes his head as he walked towards the couch muttering “asshole”.
He sits on the couch and brings his shaking hands over Tony's wrist. Tony draws his hand back, but a death glare from Stephen makes him give his hand back.
While Stephen's taking his pulse, Tony's attention falls on the doctor's hands. His hands are shaking and are fragile. The doctor always wore gloves to hide his hands. Looking at this, Tony didn't feel pity; he felt that in similar ways everyone is broken. Who knows beneath this all sarcastic demeanor and powerful sorcerer, he's as broken as him.
Tony's thoughts ended when the doctor placed his hand over Tony's neck and then temple. His hands were warm and gentle. Tony leans into the touch.
" God Tony, you're hot, ” Stephen said concerned. "I knob that thanks," Tony replied smirking. Stephen makes an annoyed face that asks "really?”
"Your temperature's too high, you're burning Tony." he said still keeping a poker face. "Actually....*wiping his nose *I'm feeling the opposite, I'm freezing", he said waving at the blankets around him.
"Did you eat something? Something healthy I hope. "Yeah I drank coffee an hour ago, this godvamn headache wouldn't leb me sleep" Tony
whined.
Stephen asked shaking his head," Are you always this stupid or only when you're not well.“" I'm not stubid," Tony said, offended.
Stephen opened a portal, and Tony thought he had made him leave. But the doctor turned and said "I'll be back" before disappearing into the portal.
After Stephen left, Tony didn't exactly feel the loneliness amusing. He was feeling dizzy and collapsed back on the couch.
When Tony woke up, he felt a hand caressing his face and then he saw Stephen was trying to feed him water. He must have passed out. "I'm Sorry, Tony, I went to bring some medicines, here have this." Stephan tried to help him sit upright and pushed the bowl of soup towards him. Tony winced at the sight of it, but Stephen was worried and he didn't want to worry him further.
Tony ate in silence. Stephen sat next to him. The soup was actually good.
Tony finished his soup. "Thanks the soub was good, I feel better." Tony tried to smile, but he looked pathetic. Stephen felt this was unnatural, but he felt the urge to protect this idiot. This particular short, sassy, genius idiot who protected the world but couldn't take care of himself.
"Friday said something about an important matter. What was it? " Stephen almost forgot the reason for his visit. "Oh ,ya we found an alien tech, don't worry it's harmless, I thought you might want to take a look at it.” Tony's expression shifted from fear to calm to curious. "But before all that you need to get well.“ Stephen added. "Now take these medicines and get rest".
He got up from the couch. "No! don't go", the words slipped from Tony's mouth. Stephen was surprised. "I'm not going anywhere, I'll just stay here, you sleep ",Stephen assured.
"I don't want to sleep"
"So What do you want to do?"
"I don't know, let's watch a movie or something". Stephen huffed and flopped back on the couch.
Switching the TV on Stephen asked “What do you want to watch? " "Anything, your choice " Tony replied.
While Stephen was watching with interest ,Tony didn't pay any attention to what was playing on TV. He kept glancing at the doc now and then.
Once Stephen caught him looking and raised his eyebrow as to ask what. Tony just shaked his head.
The effects of medicines started to kick in and Tony was drifting to sleep. Stephen was still occupied in the movie. He didn't notice Tony leaning against him. He wasn't sure what was going on in Tony's mind, but he gave up pretending to be indifferent. Anyway now that he's sleeping, Tony wouldn't know.
He lifted and wrapped his hands around Tony's shoulder, enabling him to shift closer. As if by instinct Tony was hugging him. Unsure as to where to keep his hand the doctor settled his hand over Tony's head and ruffled his hair.His gaze fell on the scars around the arc reactor. The world was aware of cocky, smartass, billionaire persona of Tony Stark ,but never knew what happened with him when he was kidnapped. What lead to the birth of Iron Man. Even Stephen and the avengers were clueless about that.
"Youb cuddle wid all your patients doc? Tony's question muffled against the doctor. Stephen almost jumped up suddenly in shock. He got up but Tony pulled him back laughing "No *cough *Stephan stay *inhaling *you're warm."
"I'm not your cuddly bear Tony ",Stephen spat. He was now red from both anger and embarrassment, also maybe a little bit blushing. "juging by the way you were holding me, you're a koala bear", Tony replied still smiling. Stephen couldn't hold his anger against his smile or him. His smile betrayed him and he broke into laughter. He settled back on the couch, still laughing and muttered "asshole".
**Author's Note:**
> I had fever a few days ago, so I wrote this. It was fun. This is my first serious fic. I am not sure about the ending because I wrote it later.
>
> Kudos and comments are appreciated.
> Reviews are welcome. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it. |
5f72693769734b279799ad9fd2e2fe03 | ['ff41a0acf4b842349304f7b72964787c'] | Minotaur Maze: Aftermath (with Blue) (A Leonel story)
**Author's Note:**
> Blue is not an OC, she is my friend BlueTheHamildork on Tumblr to check her out she is awesome, also check out her boyfriend neonleon-thechampion on Tumblr as well (I think you can all guess who he is OwO) but Blue basically looks like a human girl with dirty blonde hair greeny-blue eyes, wears a blue hoodie with black leggings and white sneakers, and for height she is 5'3 (and Leo is 5'7)
After getting out the maze, they immediately left and headed back home, Raph taking the lead and Leo in the rear. Blue felt a tap on her shoulder and looked back to see Leo asking her to follow him. Blue nodded and then quickly walked up to Raph tapped his shoulder and then said, "Raph I need to talk to Leo, we'll catch up with you and the others in a bit, okay?"
Raph looked back at Donnie and Mikey who just nodded, then turned back to Blue smiling and said, "Sure thing, Blue!"
Blue smiled back at Raph and then walked to Leo, while the others continued to walk back home.
Leo jumped down into an alleyway and Blue followed him, when they both got down there Leo's expression changed he looked upset and that really worried Blue. "Leo, are you okay?" She asked.
"I'm sorry." Leo replied with suddenly.
Blue looked at Leo shocked for a second, "Sorry about what?" She asked in response.
"You know, for lying to you and my brothers, I just wanted to prove that I'm just as talented they are and I really wanted to impress you." Leo answered rubbing his neck feeling kind of dumb.
Blue put her hand on Leo's shoulder. "Leo you are just as talented as they are, if not more so and you don't need to go out of your way to impress me, even the tiniest things you do impress me."
"You mean like that tiny portal I created earlier?" Leo asked looking at Blue.
"Yes, just like that." Blue responded.
Leo hugged Blue tightly, smiling. "Thanks sweetheart, you always know exactly what to say to make me feel better, I love you." Leo said giving Blue a kiss on the lips, making her blush. "Now come on, we better head home, the guys will probably be there by now." Leo said climbing back on top of the building.
When they were both back on top of the building Blue quickly grabbed Leo's hand and said, "I love you too." Making Leo smile as they started walking back home hand in hand. | afa4e8039cf8482bbe913b047a45c6b1 | ['ff41a0acf4b842349304f7b72964787c'] | Eat
**Author's Note:**
> Again this a Leonel story, I ship these two so much as you know Blue isn't an OC so let's get on with the story.
"I'm not hungry." Blue said, sorting through her school bag trying to find something.
"You have been saying that four two hours now!" Leo exclaimed, getting off the bed to sit next to Blue on the floor. "You only had some biscuits for breakfast, a sandwich for lunch and it has been four hours since you had lunch, so how can you not be hungry?!" Leo was started to get annoyed, he knew Blue would sometimes try to not eat. "Why do you do this to yourself anyway? Try to avoid eating?"
"I'm not, I'm just busy!" Responded Blue.
"That's not what you used to say." Leo mumbled loud enough for Blue to hear.
"I know, and I know I'm not entirely fixed but I'm getting there, it's just going to take a while." Blue said to Leo's surprise due to not thinking she would have heard him.
"I know too, and I also know that I'm going to be here for you all the way through this." Leo said, kissing Blue's cheek.
"Promise?" Asked Blue.
"Promise." Confirmed Leo, making Blue smile. "Now let's go eat." Said Leo, starting to stand up.
"Nope." Replied Blue, staying put as Leo sat back down the minute she said that.
"Baby come on, you need to eat! What are you looking for anyway?" Asked Leo, trying to see in Blue's bag.
"My Skills For Work jotter, which I keep at school." Blue replied.
"Oh my gosh, really?" Asked Leo face palming, Blue just nodded. "Right, well since that has been cleared up, let's eat I'll cook."
Blue thought about it for a minute before nodding, she hadn't tried Leo's cooking before and wondered what it would taste like. "Come on then." Leo announced, standing up and extending an arm for Blue to grab. Blue grabbed Leo's hand and he pulled her to the kitchen and started cooking, at least Leo now knows how to get Blue to eat. |
d358254bcbe942aaa37ba49fd4e88cdc | ['ff432520cdb341ba97114672c6776b5f'] |
1. Chapter One
Sergio Ramos entered the cell he shared with Iker Casillas to, yet again, see a moody mess sprawled across the top bunk.
"Iker, you really need to get laid real soon, you're starting to wind me up with your constant whinging and moping."
"Well.. Sese if you're offering?"
"Ha, ha, you wish. You know I love you but I prefer girls."
"Yeah right or a girly guy like your friend Ronaldo."
"Em, well, he's busy with other people, isn't he?"
Iker sensed the change in mood and mumbled an apology.
Sergio had been Iker's cell mate for the last 6 months since he had been sent to Bernabeu Prison. He had arrived with his partner in crime Cristiano Ronaldo. Cris had been sent over to West Wing to cell with one of the Premier League guys, Sergio had been roomed with Iker. Iker immediately took him under his wing, taking an instant liking to the talkative Sevillan. He wanted to protect him from the worst the Bernabeu could hold.
As always the highlight of the week was the new arrivals. The interns lent over the metal railings looking down on the central foyer to view the incoming tenants. Nothing out of the ordinary happened until Gerard Pique whooped for joy at the sight of his childhood friend Cesc Fabregas. This drew everyone's attention to the end of the line where three young, scared even innocent looking boys stood. Cesc fabregas, Fernando Torres and David Silva.
2. Chapter Two
David Villa was in a foul mood. His latest parole request had been thrown out. The psychologist stated he had not conquered the anger issues that had got him put inside in the first place. Villa kicked open his cell door, the noise of it hitting the wall behind sounded like thunder in the enclosed room. Villa's mood turned even darker when he saw a fragile looking, floppy haired teenager sitting on the bottom bunk. Bad news day continued, he obviously no longer had a cell to himself. Villa had no one to vent to apart from the terrified boy in front of him.
"You've got to be kidding me!" Villa roared, "I will tell you this only once. Do not try to engage me in useless, inane, social chit chat. Do not interrupt me when I'm reading or sleeping or doing anything at all really. Do not touch any of my stuff. Do not interfere with my routines and do not expect me to protect you from anything or anyone. Are you even old enough to be in an adult prison?"
"Yes, Sir, I'm 18. I'll try to remember everything you've said. I'm David Silva, nice to meet you," the younger managed to stutter a reply holding out a shaking right hand.
"Oh, great, we have the same name too!" Villa replied sarcastically ignoring the offered handshake.
The elder suppressed a twinge of guilt when he saw the boy's eyes start to water and his bottom lip quiver. He definitely held back the urge to push back the floppy hair, wipe his eyes and take the quivering lip between his own. With that thought he turned and left the cell. He had been inside too long.
Silva threw his head in his hands and let out the held in sobs. Why did he have to draw the short straw and room with this monster, this other David? He envied Cesc and Fernando rooming together. It wasn't fair he was the weakest of the three, the other two would have been able to deal with this better than him.
3. Chapter Three
Iker was alone in his cell reading when he was disturbed by raucous laughing coming from the neighbouring room. He knew two of the new teenage inmates had moved in there yesterday. He sighed, put down his book and made his way next door. He needed to warn them not to draw attention to themselves in the Bernabeu. He stood dumbfounded in the doorway witnessing a tickling/pillow fight going on. The two young men breathless and flushed. The two young, gorgeous men breathless and flushed. They would both find it hard not to attract attention. Iker felt the urge to protect these two like he had Sergio when he first arrived.
Iker cleared his throat to stop the pretend fight. The two boys immediately stilled, looking at him with innocent brown eyes, as if butter wouldn't melt. He was going to have his work cut out.
"Hi, I'm Iker from next door. Just a word from someone older and wiser, you need to keep the noise down so that you don't upset or draw attention from the wrong people in here."
The two boys looked apologetic and nodded their understanding.
"Look, I didn't mean to upset you. I'm going back to my cell now. You know where I am if you need anything." Iker added.
When Iker had left Cesc let out a quiet wolf whistle. "God, he's hot! Let me know if you need anything, yeah you in my bed, hahahaha!"
"Cesc stop it, he might hear you!" Fernando admonished.
Sergio was back in their cell when Iker returned. Iker told him about their new neighbours.
"One of them is just your type, girly, blond, pretty." Why he didn't say the dark haired one was Sergio's type he didn't know.
"If he's all that I'm sure one of the Premier League Gang will grab him. Then he can have the Life of Reilly in here, getting an easy ride in return for a few sexual favours." Sergio spat back.
Not for the first time Iker suspected Sergio's feelings for his friend Cristiano had been more than he had previously let on. He could see Sergio was hurt by Cristiano's involvement with another guy.
4. Chapter Four | 5520201ec5a744e8956b6933dbdca109 | ['ff432520cdb341ba97114672c6776b5f'] | Confederation's Conundrum
Sergio sat, surrounded by his Real team mates, plus Navas of course, sipping a coconut shaped cocktail. Iker was half way through a very expensive bottle of white wine, which was reckless as it was only early afternoon. Everyone was wearing swimming shorts but noone was planning on taking a dip. Nobody spoke, most had their headphones on listening to music. This was the norm for the cool Real boys. Sergio fitted right in, he was practically the coolest. He didn't want to mix with any of the others, he was happy, even if he didn't look it.
It wasn't quite true that he didn't want to mix with ANY of the others.
On the other side of the private VIP beachside area was a comparatively noisy group of three. They were definately not acting cool. Sergio frowned. Pepe always seemed to attract rowdy behaviour but this time it was Juan laughing loudly at something Fernando had just said. Sergio noticed Alonso and Arbeloa smiling ruefully towards the small group. It was as if they were reminiscing about the Liverpool days they had shared with the goalkeeper and striker. All of a sudden acting cool didn't seem so important. Sergio remembered when he was the one sharing jokes with Fernando. When had things changed?
Sergio was roused from his nap by Jesus.
"They look like they're having fun," drawing Sergio's attention towards several figures mucking around in the ocean.
Fernando, Juan and Cesc were behaving the most childishly, as usual. Sergio could not believe it when Juan jumped onto Fernando's back and they rode the waves in tandem. In fact, for some reason, he was furious. After a while, a beaming Fernando started to head back up the beach, surrounded by a large group of local youths trying to take photos. Sergio realised,then, that he was the one who had changed, Fernando was still the same El Nino.
Sergio walked into the meeting area with Jesus in tow. All the players were looking very smart in the team's official suit, ready for the group photos. He spotted Fernando talking to Pepe and Juan again. He made a bee line for them. He casually put his hands in his pockets and smiled broadly at Fernando whilst complimenting him on his haircut. Fernando nodded back with a faint smile. He proceeded to walk into the meeting room with Juan, leaving Sergio to follow with Jesus.
Fernando was the only person that made Sergio want to run after them. He wanted his attention. Nobody else made him feel this way. This situation needed sorting, after all they had once been inseparable. He was pleased to be about the same height as Fernando so that he could position himself next to him for the photo. Juan and Jesus being so short couldn't interfere, they were placed further away.
Fernando was sharing a room with Juan. Sergio stood outside the door listening for a while before knocking. He could hear faint laughter, jealousy struck him in the gut again. Yes, for once in his life, Sergio was jealous. He gritted his teeth and knocked. Within a few seconds Juan opened the door. He graciously agreed to leave so Sergio could speak to Fernando in private. The room was softly lit by the bedside lamps and Fernando sat cross legged on his bed wearing only pyjama bottoms. Sergio had to catch his breath. Fernando looked up at him, expectantly, wondering what Sergio needed to talk to him about. The defender sat on the edge of the bed opposite.
"Why don't we talk anymore?" Sergio sighed.
"Because you're always with your Real team mates, or Jesus, or chatting up girls in night clubs", Fernando replied dryly.
"That was one girl and one night club! Anyway, you didn't do too bad yourself that night you ended up with two girls and Juan, of course".
Fernando giggled and patted the space next to him. Sergio moved across. As soon as he sat down Fernando pulled him into a tight embrace. Sergio snuggled against him stroking his short, short hair. They stayed like that for some time, breathing in and out in unison. It was like old times when they were neighbours in Madrid and during their early days with the national team. They both knew without saying anything that they missed those days; and nights.
Fernando broke the silence first,
"I thought you didn't want to know me anymore, its been so long since my last call up."
Sergio sat aghast, "You are joking right! What did you think I meant when I tweeted that picture on your birthday during the last call up. I practically declared my love for you on the world wide web."
"Your love??"
"Don't act so surprised, you must know."
"Sergio I.........",
Sergio stopped him with a tender kiss. When their lips drew slightly apart, Fernando whispered "I love you too. I always have".
Fernando texted Juan asking him to stay out for the night. He could room with Navas. Sernando had a lot of catching up to do. They vowed, that night, never to let anything come between them again. They made a promise to each other, that one day they would be together.
The next day Fernando scored four goals against Tahiti and neither of them hid their feelings for each other, during or after the game.
Sometimes true love is a private thing . Something worth waiting a lifetime for. Someone special. Your one and only. Your soulmate. |
5cc9c1e067904105a85ef5a15acfaf0a | ['ff5b1b9ea4444fb8b0dad26cc2551b51'] | The look she gave him was obviously not impressed enough, for he barreled on. “Come on, this is great! I’ve been needing one of these for ages!” He gave her a grin and when she steadfastly refused to be excited with him, he became a bit petulant. “The old girl needs it! It’s an integral part of her design. It whirls around, Rose Tyler. Whirls! And, as though that weren’t enough, it also glows!” She cocked an eyebrow at him, and he shoved the thing in his pocket. “Fine, be like that, but you’ll be begging forgiveness when you see it in action. Come along then, Tyler, and let’s get this back to the TARDIS.” He began marching away from the wreckage.
Rose had to admit this was not what she had been expecting. In fact she had imagined having to drag him away from this particular mystery. But in the end it was what she had been planning. Just because things hadn’t gone as she planned them didn’t mean she needed to stand about in a huff (although she was half-inclined to, just to see what he’d do about it). As she started after the Doctor and away from the warm crash site Rose began to really feel how chill it was. The snow around her and the fairy lights around lamp posts hadn’t really begun to click in her head until now. Was it Christmas time?
Momentarily distracted by the lights she didn’t even notice the black truck pull up beside her.
3. Chapter 3
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> The mystery of the black truck revealed! Also, the mystery of why Rose isn't terribly surprised to see a certain someone in The Stolen Earth.
“Rosie?”
Rose ripped her eyes from the fairy lights winding their way up the lamp posts to goggle at the source of the voice. It was one she’d know anywhere, despite not having heard it in far too long.
“Jack?” Her own voice came out strangled with surprise. Suddenly the truck’s driver side door had been flung open and she found herself in the arms of Captain Jack Harkness. Her entire body froze. Rose felt as though she couldn’t breathe. She had thought he was dead. She barely remembered getting back to Satellite 5, and when her memories solidified, they started with the Doctor burning in front of her, and then crashing the Tardis. And then he’d been sick. They'd been stuck on Earth for a few months. And then they’d been off on more adventures, and she had thought; she had assumed... After a moment Jack must have noticed how stiff she was, because he pulled back with a frown on his face.
“Hey, what’s the matter?” He asked, hands on her shoulders as he searched her face for some explanation for her attitude. Rose finally found the power to move her eyes up to meet Jack’s. She tried to breathe, to stay calm.
“I’m sorry.” She began, slowly but steady, “it’s just that I thought you-” Her voice cut off unexpectedly. Rose fought with her emotions while they threatened to choke her. Unable to force her words through her tightening throat, she wrapped her arms around him. He returned the hug cheerfully, though with a bit of hesitance she couldn’t blame him for. With her face pressed against his shoulder she was able to take a deep breath, and then it a little easier to explain herself. “I thought you were dead! After... after the Daleks... I never knew where you’d gone!” She pulled back a bit, looking up at him. “What on earth are you doing here?” How was he on earth? How long had he been there? Why wasn’t he with the Doctor?
Jack’s face was unreadable for a moment. Then suddenly he seemed to come to a decision, and he was bright and cheery once more. “Ah, managed to get myself back to Earth eventually. You know me, got my vortex manipulator, jumped back, joined up with Torchwood trying to hunt you guys down.” If Rose was not so emotionally compromised herself, she might have noticed the way his smile stopped reaching his eyes.
“You’re with Torchwood?” Rose said. “So am I! I mean, not-”
“Not anymore, Rosie,” Jack interrupted her. His eyes looked strained as he said, “Had a bad year.” Then he blinked and it was gone. “Anyway, doesn’t stop bad habits from showing themselves.” He jerked a thumb back at the crashed ship. “Was in the neighbourhood when I saw the thing falling from the sky. Thought I’d come do what I could. Had I known you were here I might have just left it to the professionals!” There was a smile in his voice that didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was an awful lot that Jack was not saying. Rose was beginning to wonder what he was hiding.
“You, uh, You with the Doc?” Jack asked, and there was something loaded about his question that Rose did not like. Things here were just a little bit too off for Rose’s tastes. Had she managed to cannon herself into an alternate universe that had only very minor differences from her own original one? That was possible, but it didn’t feel true. This place felt like home.
“I was,” she decided to tell him. “He swanned off that direction just before you showed up.” She pointed down the street the Doctor had taken.
“Well, he can take care of himself for a second,” Jack said as he turned towards the crashed ship. “Might as well take a look at this while I’m here.” And he started walking over towards the craft, flipping open his manipulator as he did. A light snow began to fall as he dialed something into the tiny machine. | cd3e30f9f3924af59a4666e4eca37694 | ['ff5b1b9ea4444fb8b0dad26cc2551b51'] | “Ah, I, er, well.” He stumbled through his words, obviously trying to find any. “I wrote them, sometimes, when I was thinking of you. When something reminded me of you. Which was… often.” As he spoke, his footsteps came closer, but she couldn’t bring herself to look up just yet. “I missed you every day, Rose. This, this sort of helped. I couldn’t talk to you. It was the best I could do.” He stood beside her, and she could see his plimsolls. And then, his hand. “C’mon, Rose.” She took his hand, let herself be brought to her feet. He put his arms around her, and rested his lips on her hair. She hadn’t really stopped crying, only slowed, but it caught up again in earnest; her face pressed against his suit jacket, his hand running up and down her back, his own shaking breaths heavy in her ear. Finally, she was able to pull back. Running a hand across her eyes, she smiled up at his face.
“’S really beautiful,” she told him. “I missed you too.”
And his smile came back, brilliant as she remembered it. “Together now, aren’t we? Well then, Rose Tyler, why don’t you go inside and wash your face, then head back to the console room. One last stop.” And the way he said it nearly sounded as though he thought they’d be together even after that stop. She dared not let her hope rise, but she nodded, and pulled away, turning to finally open the door to her bedroom. She did, and heard his footsteps retreating back down the hall. Rose turned her head to watch him go, and it wasn’t until she did that she noticed his suit was blue.
2. Messages
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> 8 months after I wrote Post-its, tumblr's ten-and-a-rose requested a follow up piece that took place after Journey's End.
He said goodbye to Wilf, and went back to his TARDIS. _Just breathe,_ he kept reminding himself as he launched himself into the time stream towards the vortex. He was soaking and took off his suit coat. _I’m fine_ , he had told Wilf, but it wasn’t true. Walking around the console, trying to make himself move towards his room and dryness, his fingers toggled some settings and brushed along the circular engine. He looked to it thinking, _at least there is always this_ , when his eyes landed on a little yellow piece of paper.
What had he been thinking.
No scratch that thought, bad thought, shake it off, he told himself. Instead of chasing the thought down, he grabbed for the post-it note stack closest to him, reaching around the console for the pen pot. _I hope you are happy_ , the Doctor wrote, and then stared at it. He frowned.
The post-it note was crumpled in his fingers, tossed over his shoulder. _You will be happy together_ , he tried again, and that one too went over his shoulder. _He is better for you. He will age, with you. He can tell you. I would not be good enough. I don’t deserve you._ All of these he threw over his shoulder, frustrated. They were true, but not what he wanted to say. They were not what he was really feeling. Since when did he feel the need to lie to a post-it note no one would ever see?!
Finally, he stood at the console looking down at a post-it note that was blank. He stared down at it. That seemed appropriate, he thought. Blank was all he could allow himself to feel without the dam breaking. It felt honest. Empty. Emptiness without her.
He walked himself down the hall, finding the door looking untouched. This did not surprise him; after all, he had no idea it had ever been touched by anyone aside from himself. This new note was just another layer in the scaly paper beast that was her bedroom door.
Over the next several months, a few more blank notes added themselves to the door. Their bland yellow emptiness spoke more than any words he could conjure up. The words did not really matter anymore, anyway. It was the action. Taking a post-it, walking the corridors, pressing it down, running his fingers repeatedly across the top to make sure it stayed. That in itself was a message. I’m thinking of you did not need to be written. It was inherent in the act. I miss you was invisible on every paper. No words existed to express her lack.
He went places just to be able to come back and press a new note to the surface of her door. New planet today, he did not write. No hand to hold. The dogs all had noses. Met someone who was nothing like you. Never said “Run” to anyone.
When he landed in Victorian London, he immediately thought of her. Her in the shoulderless dress, Dickens and aliens. But no, that was 18 years from now, countless years ago. Then he met Jackson Lake and Rosita. He had smiled, chuckled, said “Good name,” and left it there, because that had seemed like a horrible cosmic joke. But when he went back to the TARDIS, he wrote their names down on a post-it note and stuck it to her door.
Other names followed. He did not record details, only names, and soon the names created an entire layer over the emptiness. The emptiness was still there; only covered.
And then he went to Mars.
There was no time before he went to visit the Ood to write anyone’s names down, and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to. Writing them down seemed an admission of guilt rather than a remembrance. After the Ood, events unravelled so quickly that he never spared a thought for the post-it notes, let alone wrote on any.
It wasn’t until he was standing in the estate listening to her wish her mother a happy new year that he realised he hadn’t recorded it. That her door stood missing vital pieces of information, pieces that he would have never been able to hide from her if she had been there. He wanted to take her hand and spill his guts, seek absolution. It had to be enough just to see her, one last time. After they exchanged their few words, the Doctor stumbled back to the Tardis full of regret, and guilt. Regret for losing her, guilt for losing her, guilt for regretting losing her, regretting all the empty notes and wasted potential. Even though he wished there was more time, he knew there was none left. Knowing didn’t change how he felt, however. He didn’t want to go.
But he did go, violently. More violently than he could ever remember doing before. He burned and the Tardis burned around him, and he flew through spacetime in a wreck, literally bouncing for the regeneration energy flowing through him.
*****
Five minutes, he promised, and then leapt back into the Tardis. There were still little fires, water in places where there should be no water, books floating past as he waded over to the console. The console had raised itself up significantly, attempting to be above the water line. He reached the controls and navigated himself away from his crash site to prevent further damage to his beautiful ship. That done he leaned against the pillar, an exhilarated smile on his face. A smile which was wiped clean as something small and yellow floated past him in the water.
“No,” he whispered at it. “No, no, no!” He launched himself back into the water, which was draining now that the Tardis was stabilizing. He slogged up the corridor that led to her room. Even as his ship was changing, he still knew the way. He had walked it so many times it seemed impossible that he could not know it. The closer he got, the more notes floated past, many with burn marks. He finally made it to the space where her door should be to find a sodden mass of paper, ink made illegible by fire and water. The Doctor stared at it blankly, unable to react appropriately to this loss. He knew that the Tardis was reconfiguring. The pool going through the library was going to cause some understandable damage. He had simply failed to remember that the library (with their favourite couch) was in the same corridor as Rose Tyler’s room.
That wasn’t quite true. He had not forgotten. It just hadn’t occurred to him.
Was this who he was now? A man who could move on?
The thought was accompanied with such a rush of guilt that he knew immediately it was not true. He turned and bolted with his new legs back towards the console room. Things out here were already dry, his beloved Tardis working hard to fix things. It was also remarkably orange all of a sudden, but he didn’t give himself time to think about it. He threw himself at the console and rummaged in the new spaces and drawers until he found a small stack of post-its (which had inexplicably turned from yellow to green). Snatching up a pen he scribbled, _Sorry about the notes, but don’t you worry, I’ll keep writing them, I’ll never stop, but right now I’m late to pick up Amelia Pond, you’d like her, but off I go for now_. That was alarmingly wordy compared to previous notes, but never mind. He jogged back to her door, only a few yellow post-its stuck to it now, and smacked this new one on with vigor.
“Rose Tyler,” he told the door, and it sounded different but the same in his new voice. “Run!” He cracked a manic grin, and then flew back down to the console room, setting coordinates for Amelia Pond’s garden and his next adventure. |
257934e73a9d46508d110a73f782db33 | ['ff635e9580fd4050bb19095305fd15a2'] | _“Dean you shouldn’t drink so much. You could-“,_ Cas stopped when Dean turned around, and smiled at the hunter. He wasn’t getting another beer. Instead Dean placed a pie down on the bedside table and handed Castiel a fork.
The hunter laid back against the headboard as Cas ate what he could of the pie, which was almost all of it, reflecting on his past with the former angel in the bed next to his. When exactly did Dean began to feel close to him? Hell if he knew. And now he was suddenly think of Castiel cute and sexy. What was that about? Castiel was an angel, or at least he used to be. He wasn’t cute or sexy or anything. Just an angel. His angel. His angel? When did that happen? Dean was lost in thought when Castiel rough voice broke into his thoughts.
_“What are you thinking about Dean?”_
_“Huh, what? No, nothing.”_ He lied.
_“You make that pouty face when you’re thinking about something. What is it?”_
_“Cas it’s nothing. It’s just-nothing.”_
_“Dean..”_
_“What?”_ Dean threw the beer bottle he was holding across the room, smashing it against the far wall, spraying what little of its contents were left across the wall. The sudden outburst made Castiel jump in surprise. But he was even more surprised when Dean turned back to look at him. There wasn’t one hint of anger on his face. Instead Castiel found a sadness like nothing he’d ever seen in the hunter. His hunter. Dean’s eyes filled to the brim with tears, one blink sent them trailing down his face, and they didn’t stop. It was painful to see Dean this way. This strong man so broken. So faithless.
_“Dean…”_ Castiel’s voice was soft, low, overflowing with concern for the man.
_“Cas-“,_ he choked through the tears. _“Cas I’m sorry. I am so sorry. For this. For everything that you’ve ever had to do because of me. You fell because of all the shit I’ve done, and that’s-“Dean_ couldn’t speak anymore. He tried but no more words would form on his tongue. Instead he just sat there, tears falling from his eyes into his lap. His hand hung lifeless over the edge of the bed.
There was nothing Castiel could say. Not after that. He wanted to hit Dean. To hit him and tell him to stop being such a dumbass. To tell him that nothing he did made Castiel fall. He wanted to tell him that everything he did, he did of his own choosing. That if he was given the chance to do it over he would not do it differently. But he couldn’t. Dean wouldn’t believe him no matter what he said. Instead he got up and moved to the other side of the bed Dean was on and sat down beside him.
Dean looked up at Cas with bleary eyes, green meeting blue, in a confused manner. Castiel’s eyes had tears in them as well, one managed to escape and trailed down his face.
_“Cas I’m-“_
_“Sorry. I know, Dean. And I know you won’t believe me, but I did what I did because I wanted to, not because it was what you wanted. And if I could do it all over again, I’d pick the same path. I’d fall a dozen times for you. But you have to stop blaming yourself…or I will kick your ass.”_
Cas laid a hand gently on the side of Dean’s face, wiping the tears from his cheeks with him thumb. Dean laughed slightly at that last bit and blinked away the last of his tears.
_“Yeah I’d like to see you try.”_ He joked as he wiped Cas’ single tear trail away with his own thumb.
_“And if you are still set on blaming yourself, then I want you to know that I forgive you. For whatever it is you think you did, I forgive you for it.”_
Dean’s eyes lit up the second Cas finished his sentence. And in that moment, the few seconds it took Castiel to say three words, it was like a weight was lifted off of the hunter’s shoulders. This fallen angel, _his_ fallen angel, had forgiven him when he couldn’t forgive himself, and it was the best feeling in the world.
Seeing Dean’s eye alive again made Castiel’s deep azure eyes light up as well. In all the time he’d known Dean Winchester, it was no longer his Grace that had kept him together. It wasn’t his Grace that gave light to this vessel’s eyes. It was Dean, and the strength and bravery that he radiated.
And then, Cas did something nether men ever thought he would. He placed his hand under the sleeve of Dean’s shirt to rest upon the handprint there. His handprint. Dean looked down to where Castiel’s hand was in confusion. By the time Dean looked back up to meet those radiant blue eyes, Castiel was closing the gap between them, placing his lips to Dean’s, gently yet full of passion. It was quick, innocent, and caught Dean completely off guard. For a few seconds the two just stared at each other, getting lost in the other’s eyes. That kiss had only been mere seconds long, but it was everything Dean never knew he wanted. Within a moment’s notice, Dean’s hand was at the back of Castiel’s neck, pulling the man in for another kiss.
Castiel’s hands moved to cup Dean’s face as their kiss heated and filled with a desire. Castiel’s lips parted, allowing Dean entrance, and for that moment, nothing else in their world mattered. Dean had his angel back, and grace or not, Cas would always be Dean’s guardian.
Moments passed before Dean finally broke the embrace. As he pulled away a smile like one he hadn’t sported in many years spread across his face. Cas followed suite, the happiness of their smiles bring light to both their eyes again. The hunter put a hand to Castiel’s face one last time before getting up and hoping over to the other bed, leaving room for Castiel to lay there beside him. After all that was the bed that was supposed to be his anyways.
_“What about when Sam-“_
_“Forget it. Sam will probably be relieved I’m sleeping in an actual bed again.”_ Dean said, knowing his brother wouldn’t mind the new turn of events.
Cas smiled and made his way over to Dean’s bed, closing the gap between their bodies. He wasn’t tired anymore, having slept pretty much all day, but Dean on the other hand was almost ready to pass out. The hunter put his head on Castiel’s chest and wrapped his arm around his torso, snuggling in as close to his side as humanly possible. Cas was warm, comforting, and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest put Dean to sleep almost immediately.
Castiel wrapped his arms around the hunter, bringing him in even closer. He was absently running a hand through Dean’s hair when Sam walked in carrying a back of Chinese take-out. Sam was about to question the picture before him when Cas raised a finger to his lips, hushing him. Sam could only smile as he nodded and sat on his bed to eat, making sure to leave enough for Dean for the next day. He looked over at Castiel, down to his brother’s sleeping form then back up to the former angel. Cas only shrugged, a pleased smile on his lips as he continued to run his fingers through Dean’s hair. Sam smiled again, stifling a laugh at how easy it was for Cas to get Dean to sleep, then finished eating before turning out the light on the table that separated the two beds.
_“Goodnight Castiel.”_
_“Goodnight Sam.”_
Sam was out cold almost instantly. Cas could tell because he was snoring faintly. Castiel bent his head forward, placing a small kiss on Dean’s head.
_“And goodnight to you, Dean Winchester.”_ | 14ba25a8a0104c658260886e27ea6cae | ['ff635e9580fd4050bb19095305fd15a2'] |
Love In the Water
**Author's Note:**
> Inspired by some fanart I saw on tumblr. See link before fic if you want to see the picture.
_LINK
_
_"C'mon, Cas! This is gonna be our first Valentine's Day, I wanna actually do something nice."_
_"When was the last time you even made a meal for me that wasn't a bowl of cereal or toast?"_
_"That's not the point. Why do you or Sam always assume I can't cook? I used to cook for Sam all the time when we were kids."_
_
_Dean pleaded his case, Cas smirking slightly as the hunter got more and more frustrated. It wasn't the cooking Cas was worried about. It was the day as a whole. Why? Why does this one day have to be so special, so different from every other day or the year? Not that he wasn't happy Dean was acting more romantic lately, but he just didn't get it. Maybe he was still just adjusting to life as a human.
_"Okay fine. Make dinner. Just...no toast. Please. I'm getting sick of eating it for breakfast, I don't want it for a dinner too."_
_"Deal! No toast then."_
_
_Dean gave Cas his stupid goofy grin and Cas shook his head amusedly.
_"Go do something. Read a book. I have to go get more food so I can not make toast for your picky ass. I'll be back in an hour or so."_ Dean slipped on a jacket and kissed Castiel lightly on the cheek before leaving.
* * *
_"Uh-Sam?"_
_"Yeah, Cas. What's up? Where's Dean I thought you two were doing something tonight."_
_"We are. He is buying food. I need to ask a question. Promise me you won’t tell Dean I asked it."_
_"Cas I-"_
_"Promise me...please."_ Cas gave Sam a pleading look, and even Sam, who was a professional at the wounded puppy look, couldn't say no.
_"Fine. Promise. What's your question?"_
Cas looked nervous, shy, afraid to ask at first, but he forced it out anyways.
_"W-What is the point in celebrating Valentine's Day? Shouldn't Dean want to do things like this more than once a year? Don't get me wrong; I like it, very much, but, why?"_
_
_Sam chuckled slightly. Only Dean could find someone who didn't get sentiment as much as himself. Sam leaned back in his chair. Cas had moved closer as he talked and Sam could see the frustration on his face, and it took everything not to laugh again.
_"Well, this is the first time he's ever had an actual relationship si-"_ He paused a second. _"since Lisa. He just wants to do it right. It's a sentiment thing. Valentine's Day is the one day a year he gets to be a sappy romantic without looking like he's a sucker for this crap."_
Cas seemed to be contemplating Sam's answer before looking back to the larger man.
_"How do I show my affections back?"_
Sam really had no idea but he figured any answer would do really.
_"Uhh-well he's making dinner right? Maybe you should make him something."_
_"Like what?"_
_"Heh, I don't know. I've never made him anything. He likes pie, maybe you could try baking one i guess."_
__
Cas was contented with this and left Sam to get back to whatever book he had been reading. Dean would be home in about an hour and a half at least, that would be enough time. Sam found him a recipe and Cas put it together as best he could manage while rushing before putting it in the oven.
* * *
(After dinner....)
_"That was actually very good."_
_"Don't sound so surprise! I told you I knew how to cook."_
Cas gave him a sheepish apologetic smile. Dean moved over on the couch they were sitting on, took Cas' face in his hands and kissed him softly. It wasn't heated or rushed or consuming. It was sweet, loving, and- well perfect. And Cas kissed him back equally as chastely.
_"Happy Valentine's Day, baby."_ Dean grinned sweetly as he pulled out of the kiss, the smile reaching his eyes, making them look even livelier than they already did.
Cas took Dean’s hand and stood up from the couch, pulling Dean with him.
_“I did a little something for you too.”_ His voice was whispered slightly, as if speaking too loudly would ruin the moment. He led Dean to the bathroom off of their room. A warm bath was already drawn and dozens upon dozens of red rose petals floated lazily in the water and littered the rest of the room. Along the ledge that lined the bathtub was a bucket of ice filled with beer bottles and the pie Cas had made earlier.
Dean’s face lit up at the set-up, both shocked and touched that Cas put this together for them-for him. The two men undressed relatively quickly, Dean slipping into the warm water, followed by Cas. The former angel leaned back against his hunter, head resting on his shoulder as Dean wrapped his arms around Cas, the water and rose petals sloshing around them. Dean planted a sweet kiss into Cas’ hair and Cas hummed contentedly, slipping further into the water until it came up to the middle of his chest.
_“Try the pie.”_ He said, voice lazy and Dean didn’t hesitate to comply with the request. Dean picked up the fork there and took a bite, careful to try and not drop any crumbs into the water or in Cas’ hair. It was perfect. The whole night was. The two men finished off the pie together, and Cas decided he liked his apple pie better than the cherry one Dean had tried to make one time. For all the amount of love the man had for the pastry, he wasn’t very good at making them. They laid there, Cas against Dean, Dean’s arms around Cas until the water cooled off. That night they made love. It wasn’t having sex…it was love. It was passionate and slow and romantic and it was everything Dean hoped for from the night. And Cas thought he understood Dean’s sentiment for the day.
And somewhere up in Heaven, a cupid smiled… |
50548ec7a57f467590efdb7d4c0bf868 | ['ff6efdfc56d64fde95474c99de805765'] | “EVERYONE SIT DOWN!” Iida shouted, taking his position of authority too seriously as he usually did. The class reluctantly wandered to their desks. Iida nodded at Tokoyami before returning to his perch at the back of the room.
The bird man sighed and bowed his head. “I apologize for the way I acted earlier today.”
“Give me a fucking break,” he could swear he heard Bakugo mutter the corner. King Explosion Murder clearly felt this was a waste of time.
“Shouji is a comrade and one of my best friends. I know that he is innocent. So I am going to go to where he is being held and petition for him to be released. If anyone wants to come with me, feel free.”
The class was silent for a minute as they digested what had just been said.
“Tokoyami...think about what you’re saying,” Tsuyu Asui chimed in. “We all agree with you. Shouji is a good guy. But wouldn’t going down to the police station just slow down the process of him actually being freed?”
“Yes! Process is important!” Iida chimed in from the back.
“You sure didn’t give a shit about process when your brother was stabbed…” Tokoyami could swear he heard from Todoroki’s general direction.
“I don’t want to have a whole huge debate about this,” Tokoyami continued. “But, honestly, I don’t trust that the process is going to work out for Shouji. I think it’s stacked against him. And I’m scared that if I...if WE don’t do something, he’s going to be screwed.”
“You can’t think that way,” Yaoyozoru said, standing up. She remained composed but still seemed slightly indignant. “You have to stay positive!”
“Yeah,” Ochaco Uraraka said in support of her female companion. “I mean, I remember when one of my girlfriends was a person of interest because she looked like a villain, and it took like 12 hours, but she got out of jail AND it was cleared from her record!”
“What was her Quirk, Uraraka,” Tokoyama asked. “What type was it?”
“She...she could transmute elements in the air into actual physical matter. Like, at an atomic level. So, combine hydrogen and oxygen atoms that were just randomly scattered in the air and make them water.”
“That’s a fucking rad Quirk,” Kaminari noted. Uraraka grinned.
“Yeah, it was cool. But she was accused of killing someone by suffocation in a closed room. All because she happened to be passing by a warehouse at the wrong time. Luckily, she was able to be bailed out.”
“So...it wasn’t a Mutant based quirk?” Tokoyami interjected.
“No, but…”
“Then the circumstances are entirely different.” Tokoyami sighed. “Listen, I don’t expect any of you to believe me here...but I think if we don’t go show Shouji support and get him out of jail, he’s going to be found guilty. Because he’s a Mutant Type.”
“Why does that matter?” Yaoyozoru continued. “We don’t live in a society like that anymore.”
“It matters. Just because you haven’t experienced it doesn’t mean that it’s not still there. And I don’t mean to sound heavy-handed or lecture-y or anything like that but this is my decision. As I said, I’m not looking for a debate.”
Tokoyami turned his back on the rest of the class. “The point is, I’m going. You can join, or you can stay. I don’t care either way. Just tell All Might I went home early or something.” With that, the bird man turned heel and began to walk out of the room.
“Wait! You’ll get in trouble!” Iida stood up but Midoriya motioned for him to sit.
“I’m going with him.”
“Mi-Midoriya?!” Iida looked apopleptic. “WHO WILL NOT SET A GOOD EXAMPLE FOR FOLLOWING THE RULES IF YOU DO NOT?!”
“Since when have I ever cared THAT much about the rules?” He gave a small grin. “There are things that matter more than that. Saving innocent lives and supporting friends are both far more important than rules.” Midoriya looked at Tokoyami, eyes slightly tearing once more as he strode forward. “Let’s roll.”
“B...but….” Iida tried to stammer something else out.
“DEKU YOU LITTLE ATTENTION WHORING SHIT!” Bakugo screamed.
Midoriya didn’t care, though, and neither did Tokoyami. The two of them left the room, leaving the voices of dissent behind them.
“Thank you, Midoriya,” Tokoyami said after they crossed the doorway. “I appreciate this.”
“It hurts me to see you upset,” the green haired boy said softly. “And I think I get it. I’ll never know how you feel about this issue. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be supportive while you try to navigate it.”
Tokoyami nodded, his beak turning into some semblance of a smile. “That’s all I can ask of you. Thanks.”
The two continued walking down the hallway in silence. They both knew it would be about a 30 minute stroll to the police station so they would have time to collect themselves and make a plan of action.
“Do you think we should call a lawyer?” Midoriya asked Tokoyami. He shrugged.
“Honestly, I hadn’t gotten that far yet. Maybe. But I don’t know any.”
“Maybe my mom knows someone…”
“YOUNG MIDORIYA! TOKOYAMI!”
The two students turned around as they were just as they exited the building. Midoriya gulped.
“All Might? What are YOU doing here? And why is the entire class with you?”
5. Stepping Up
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Some notes:
>
> 1\. I think this hopefully establishes how All Might not being present at the Stain incident caused some sort of gulf in his understanding of heroism vs. Midoriya's. Midoriya emulates All Might, sure, but he's not going to be the same exact hero All Might was. Midoriya believes in a more flexible heroism, IMO.
>
> 2\. Tokoyami has reasons for acting the way he does...and some may come to light in the next two chapters.
> | c5c93ada12124d2794096209c5ac9891 | ['ff6efdfc56d64fde95474c99de805765'] | “I’m not fucking dealing with his now, Zeke. I’m taking a day off.” I flopped on my mattress, the night’s exhaustion catching up with me, but he wasn’t done.
“I need you at your best, Chanun, not chasing tail all over this fucking ship.” I kept lying there, just ignoring him. I could feel his eyes on the back of my neck.
“What would have happened if there was a red alert last night? We can’t even make it past level 33 on the freaking simulators. We could die.”
“We’re not going to die, Zeke. Go do whatever, we’ll talk later.” I curled up under my covers, making it clear that I wanted to rest. I could hear an angry sigh and the door slamming behind me. Then, I passed out again, all of my sore muscles limp.
I woke up at around 3 and yawned, getting out of bed, my thighs still feeling like jelly. I regarded my body in the mirror. I definitely could see what made guys like Keeler go wild when they saw me. The hair pushed back, the toned chest, the long, thick legs. But I’d thought I’d proven to be more than just a pretty face and a nice cock to Keeler. Hell, I’d saved his freaking life! Why was he just casting me aside?
I shook my head and decided to take a quick shower. Maybe that would clear my mind a bit.
“Yo, Chanun?” I heard a voice behind me as I walked into the bathroom. It was Helios, waving and smiling giddily. He was also clad in just a towel; it seemed as if he had to clean off as well. I put on a small grin and dapped him up.
“Sup, Helios? How are you?”
“I’m cool, man. Just got done with training, so I’m going to clean up. Want to do another session tonight?”
“I’m actually going to the gym with Zeke tonight. Gotta tough him up a bit.”
Helios looked at me, a devlish glint in his eye. “Zeke at the gym? Oh, I gotta see this for myself.”
I immediately shook my head, remembering what Zeke had told me earlier, cutting Helios off at the pass as I opened the bathroom door. “I think Zeke would prefer some privacy. Maybe once we get a nice routine going and figure out what he’s best at, we could all train together. For now though, he’s gonna start slow.”
“Suit yourself,” Helios said as we entered the shower room. Of the three stalls, the middle one seemed occupied; I went to the one on the far right and turned on the water. I was mostly minding my own business when, in the stall next to me, I could hear some giggling and squelching.
“Ooh...so you got the SPECIAL body wash that smells like cinnamon.” Was that Selene?
“Yup, and I’m going to rub it all over you and make you feel so fucking good.” That was DEFINITELY Helios. I recalled what Keeler had said about certain Fighter/Navigator pairs already getting to know each other a bit more than was professionally acceptable. Clearly, Helios and Selene were one of those duos.
“Oh...fuck...loosen me up,” I heard warbling from next to me. Selene was really getting into it! I couldn’t help but drop one of my hands to my cock, rubbing it sensually, the moans from the Navigator quite a turn on.
“God, your cock is so hard,” Helios muttered as the cascade of water continued to come down. I could hear Selene moaning louder, his smooth voice fluctuating in pitch and tone as his body was pleasured.
“Ahhhh...fuck me, please.” I could hear a squelch and then a thump, thump, thump, moans still permeating my wall as I soaped off, one hand over my body, the other pulling at my cock. The subversion of the whole thing strangely made it more enticing for me, more erotic. As Helios rode his Navigator hard, the moans growing louder and louder, an intense loneliness, one that I had kept bottled up inside for a long time, came back to the top of my mind. To love or be loved like so many of these warriors seemed to have on lock, to see pairs like Cain and Abel or like, potentially, Helios and Selene on the same wavelength, to imagine them together, intertwined in sexual bliss and metaphysical congruity...why couldn’t I have that? Was I forever the pleasant entity, never the leading man? Was I doomed to a sidekick role for the rest of my time here?
“Cumming!” I could hear Helios moan as the grunting intensified in the stall next to mine. I stroked and thrusted in time with their fucking and, as I heard Selene man once more, I shot my load into the shower’s drain and leaned on the side. I stopped the water on my end, just standing there now. I was clean enough.
“That was nice,” I could hear Selene murmur to Helios as they pulled open their curtain and got out.
“Definitely,” Helios said, a slightly sneaky tone in his voice. “You’re so freaking special, you know?”
“Keep the compliments coming, Helios,” Selene said with a little giggle. I heard the door close and their discussion echoed out in the hallway. I stayed in the shower for a few more minutes, just wanting to cool down and give them some time to move away from the bathroom before I would emerge. I wondered if I had been on Helios’ mind while he had sex with Selene. He knew I was there; he could have said SOMETHING.
I sighed and left the bathroom, making it back to my room unscathed. After toweling off, I threw on a black ribbed tanktop and shorts; it was time to eat.
9. Praxic Wisdom
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> PRAXIS TIME!!!!!!!!
>
> All characters except for mine belong to HamletMachine.
> |
dc17729e954a48f8925835f66ff7c27d | ['ff8488d95bd94e46a4330af70be12dee'] | She woke up from her nightmare, screaming. She looked around and realised it was still night time. She was alone in her bedroom.
It was just a dream, the worst dream ever in her life.
She took deep breaths to calm her racing heart.
_It's okay. It was just a nightmare. _
And, so she laid down on the bed. That night, sleep didn't return in Daenerys's eyes.
**Jon Snow **
"For the watch."
"For the watch."
"For the watch."
Lord Commander Jon Snow fell on his knees, six freshly stabbed wounds on his chest. A boy of about 15 years old stands in front of him, with tears in his eyes.
"Olly."
Jon pleas to Olly for mercy.
"For the watch."
Olly finished off Jon with the last stab right in his heart.
Jon can't feel anything anymore. Not his heart, his arms, his legs. Nothing. Darkness slowly engulfs his vision, while across the narrow sea, his Winter Rose hears a wolf howling.
**Melisandre of Asshai **
She doesn't know what tempted her to do this once again. She lost her faith in her powers since Stannis was defeated and died. She doesn't know what pulled her to use her powers to see through the flames.
As she saw the flames dancing, they showed her blue eyes staring back at her, a bright blue coloured and deadly.
Then there was a man, sitting on a throne made of wood, wearing a crown, an open circlet of hammered bronze incised with runes of the First Men, surmounted by nine black iron spikes in the shape of longswords.
_The Crown of Winter. _
The man was holding the hilt of a Valyrian Steel Sword with his left hand, the sword positioned upright with the pointy end of the blade touching the ground. The pommel of it was a white wolf. His right hand was resting on the arm of the throne. On the man's right, beside the throne, was sitting a snow white direwolf with blood red eyes. Lords and Ladies, great and small, kneeling before the man, hailing him as their King.
In a hut, a witch foreshadowing the destruction of a young woman.
"You will be Queen, for a time, until there comes another. Younger, more beautiful. To cast you down and take all you hold dear."
The next moment, she sees beautiful, ethereal violet eyes and wavy Silver-gold hair. A face so beautiful even a goddess could pale in comparison.
The Red Woman next saw a handsome Prince with silver hair and indigo eyes. She knew he was a warrior. With him was a woman with straight raven coloured hair, dark brown eyes and a beautiful face that Melisandre can't help but compare its similarities with the silver-gold haired woman's face. They were sitting on a bed together, late at night. It is very obvious to anyone who has eyes that they are husband and wife.
"Do you think it's going to be a girl or a boy?"
The woman speaks with such a beautiful voice.
"I think it will be a girl."
"You're saying this because you want a girl."
The man chuckles.
"Don't you?"
"It doesn't really matter to me if it's a boy or a girl, I will love my child all the same. But I think I would prefer a boy first. The next one can be a girl."
"Well, I want a Visenya first."
"Is that what you want to name our daughter?"
"Yes, we could. Unless you have already chosen one. I wouldn't name our child something that you don't like."
"I was thinking we could name our daughter something similar to the name Rhaenys. After all, they are going to be sisters."
"Which is?"
"How about Rhaena?"
"If you ask for my opinion, I would like a less... simple name. A name that screams otherworldly."
"I have another. How about **Daenerys**?"
The man gives her a smile.
"I would like nothing more."
"So, what would we name our son, if it's a boy?"
"I was thinking. Like you chose a name similar to Rhaenys, we can choose a name for our son similar to Aegon. And, you always liked Daeron the Young Dragon, haven't you? So, Aegon and **Daeron**. They are pretty much similar. One of the brothers named after Aegon the Conquerer, the other Daeron the Young Dragon. King Aegon the first and King Daeron the first."
The woman gave him a big smile, showing her teeth.
"I would love that."
"Then it's decided."
Then the vision changed again. This time the same woman, the wife of the Prince, was laying on a bed flooded with blood, clutching a winter rose in her hands. The blood was coming from between her legs, Melisandre knew that. She is dying from giving birth to her child. A man with dark brown hair and eyes rushed into the room with a Valyrian Steel Sword in his one hand.
"Lyanna."
He called the woman as he put the sword against the base of the bed and sat on the chair beside her.
"Ned. Is that you, brother?"
The woman's beautiful voice is now weak.
"I am here, Lyanna. Nothing is going to happen to you. You are going to be fine."
"Brother, I tried to be brave."
"And, you are."
Then turning to a maid,
"Fetch her some water. We need to get a maester."
"No, Ned listen to me."
Then she whispers something in his ear, as from the door came two maids, each holding one child.
Ned looks at the two infants in the maids' arms. One of the maids handed him the child in her arms. The woman, dying, whispers in her brother's ear.
"Their names are Daeron and Daenerys Targaryen. You have to protect them. Promise me, Ned. Promise me you will protect them."
A silence followed and then the brother broke it.
"I promise."
The woman gives him the smallest of smile as her eyes fell lifeless. | 7bbc650f5bbd42209754a3a4f646d7a7 | ['ff8488d95bd94e46a4330af70be12dee'] | The marriage ceremony was not as extravagant as the late Prince Aegon's, but was of extensive importance. Just as the Targaryen incestuous marriages before, marriage between Jon and Dany did not require a maiden clock, as they are of the same House. Although there was a bridal clock, as it is also a symbol of a wife's protection under her husband.
All the while during the wedding ceremony, Lady Cersei Baratheon looked like she chewed on a lemon, while her husband Stannis was being Stannis, wore the same expressionless face that he always wore, that can make anyone wonder if he was born like this. Lady Lyanna Baratheon's anxiousness behind her smiling face didn't go unnoticed from her son, the Crown Prince. The fact that Jon is now legitimized and the Crown Prince, and may become their King in the future didn't sit well with the two uncles of the new Lord of Storm's End, but Orys Baratheon was ever loyal to the Crown and that was the only thing that mattered. Surely no one failed to take note that Lady Lyanna had her hand in this and it will certainly be beneficial for her and her children with Baratheon since she is to be the future King's mother and her other children the future King's half-siblings. Lord Tywin Lannister never opposed it like the fool he isn't, which his daughter took as an act of cowardice, just like she did when her husband and good brother didn't take any action against the marriage and the legitimization as well. Lord Jaime Lannister and his wife Lady Alysanne had always bore a kind of affection towards the Crown Prince, and so did their children, except for thirteen years old Joffrey Lannister, who wore a scowl on his face. Besides the Lannisters and Baratheons, came, of course, the Starks and Martells, Tyrells, Arryns and Tullys and many minor houses.
Daenerys never really knew the nephew she was marrying, she never met him until after the deaths of her good sister who was more than a mother to her, her niece and closest friend, and her other nephew. And, that was what scared her the most. Daenerys was always an independent girl, fierce and strong-willed, always struck a conversation with any person she met in the court and never had any difficulty in putting a smile on someone's face. While her betrothed is a reserved person, talking with people when he thought necessary, but still a clever young man.
After the wedding went on smoothly, then came the bedding, the very moment Dany was dreading. She knows what happens. Rhaenys was not a maiden when she married Robb. She had Dornish blood after all and that means she never did shy away from speaking her mind about the sexual topics. Rhae told her how the first time may hurt. Rhae's first time did when she lost her maidenhead to a knight, for whom she had felt infatuation for a time. Daenerys got scared if her new husband hurts her. She was grateful though when the King, her brother, forbad the guests from escorting the bride and groom to their chambers. She doesn't want strangers to peek their noses into her and her husband's privacy and absolutely doesn't want strangers to undress her, lest if they touch her by brushing their hands or fingers 'accidentally' when undressing her. Her old companion, Eleanor Mooton, now Elaenor Tarly after marrying Dickon Tarly, the heir to House Tarly of Horn Hill, wrote to her in her letter about how the men were making bawdy remarks when escorting her.
When they entered their shared chambers, Dany felt very amused when she found how nervous her new husband is and is stuttering his words. She also felt relieved to know her husband is not the kind of man to hurt her or worse.
"Is this your first time?" At one point Daenerys asked. He looked a bit confused before realizing what she meant and answered to her question, "Y-yes."
"Oh, good. I mean, both of us are virgins, so I guess... Umm- whatever." She paused. "You do know you don't have to do it if you don't want to."
"That was my line but thank you. It's just, it is required for us to consummate the marriage, isn't it? I mean, I am okay with it if you are okay."
She felt herself smile a little and then spoke softly, "Very well. I give you my permission."
Her husband was gentle which made Dany's heart beat a lot faster and at the same time grateful. The next morning, during breakfast, Dany was daydreaming and grinning like a fool. When she heard her brother clearing his throat, she blushed for looking like a love-struck maiden. Slowly but surely the two Targaryens fell in love and the next year they welcomed a new family member. In 300 AC, their firstborn child, Prince Aegon, was born. That same year, Prince Quentyn Martell and Lady Sansa Stark were married in the sight of Old Gods and the new. The following year, Prince Quentyn's sister, Princess Arianne was married to Willas Tyrell, the heir to Highgarden, but the marriage was not a happy one and with their two children looking Dornish, it was even rumored that these children are not Willas's until their third and fourth children were born who looked exactly like Willas and a mix of his parents respectively.
The black and red dragon, and the largest of his siblings, bonded with Daenerys and was named Aegeron, after the late nephew of his rider, and the cream and gold dragon, the most beautiful out of the three dragons and named Nys after Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, was the mount of Prince Jon Targaryen. The remaining one, the emerald and bronze dragon was named Rhaegal after the King. The King Rhaegar, however, never rode any dragon.
As for the remaining Blackfyre brothers, they were found dead when sleeping. The cause of their deaths is unknown.
The Crown Prince and Princess had a daughter in 301 AC and named her Rhaella, after the newborn Princess's both grandmother and great-grandmother.
In 302 AC, Lord Robb Stark married Lady Cassana Baratheon, his cousin. The marriage started with a friendship between them and then slowly turned to love. Though Lady Cassana cannot ever replace Rhaenys for Robb, she did fill the hole left behind and gave her husband a reason to live and cherish life.
As the dragons also gave more eggs, which hatched to the joy of House Targaryen, Prince Jon and Princess Daenerys gave the ancient and old dynasty more heirs. They had been blessed with 8 children. In 303 AC Prince Aemon, in 305 AC Princess Rhaenys, in 306 AC Princess Aerea, in 309 Prince Aerion, in 311 AC Princess Alysanne, and in 316 AC Prince Daeron were born. In 315 AC, just before the birth of Prince Daeron, when his sister was heavy with child, King Rhaegar, first of his name, took his last breath.
The marriage of King Jon I and the Silver Queen Daenerys was a happy one and was built on mutual trust and a deep friendship and love, that it was compared with Alysanne and Jaehaerys's relationship. Queen Daenerys was her husband's most trusted advisor and the most influencing and powerful queen the Seven Kingdoms ever had, that one would be a fool to say she was just a Queen Consort. Their reign was also a peaceful one and with the return of dragons which brought House Targaryen its old glory back. The beginning seemed like the end of House Targaryen but that turned out to be the start of a new and more beautiful era for a dynasty that will last more thousands of years. |
99f3a8270242479b917ead27ca856925 | ['ffbb91b3530e447096ab071afe23f6b6'] | “No, Bennett was on Sentinel Studies, Day was on Accounting, and Bishop on Archaeology. “All three men worked at a local club to raise money for their education. Two were on the swim team until their mutant powers cut in.”
“What could they do?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary, but it gave them agility and speed above the normal,” Jim flicked a page of the report, “Leo had all the makings of a first class professional skater, but once he came on-line it meant that he could not pursue a career in professional or amateur sport, but it didn’t stop him dancing.”
“All three of them worked at a club called the Watering Hole, it’s new and they boast that all their dancers are mutants, its popular among the thrill seekers. The reason we didn’t get the information to start with was that all of them danced under a different name, and their boss didn’t report them missing, and when their faces turned up on the newspapers, he turned a blind eye, the good of the club.” Simon didn’t miss the sarcastic bite to the Sentinel’s words.
“Is he willing to help us?”
“He is now,” the Sentinel almost purred the words as a smile twisted his lips.
0-0-0-0-0
Rainier University.
The beginning of term
Jubilation Lee, sat down in the lecture hall, and piled her books in front of her. A pretty girl with fine features, raven black hair worn long, swept back and pinned in place by a old gold colored slide, she clicked her chewing gum and slipped deeper in her seat as she recognized the teacher, “Dr. Blair Sandburg,” of all the people she had to meet up with.
The young man took his place in front of the lectern, “Good Morning, this is the first lesson of Sentinel 101, anyone in the wrong class should leave now?”
Two young men muttered apologies as they left the lecture hall. Blair just smiled and turned back to his class.
“For the next six months you are going to be studying Sentinels and Guides, and the social interaction of the clans and the world about them. Now open your books to page 12,” and he launched into his lecture.
0-0-0-
As the class started to filter out, Blair crossed to Jubilee. “How are you settling in Jubilee?” His smile was gentle, and she felt his concern as a soft caress of her mind.
“Fine, Dr. Sandburg, I just wish I didn’t have to leave the Mansion.”
Blair steered her away from the other students, “it was not a punishment. The Professor thought that if you studied Sentinel 101 for this term it would give you a better insight to what is happening with Logan and Gambit.”
“The Swamp Rat,” Jubilee spat the words, and then looked up into Blair’s eyes. “Sorry.”
“I understand, but I thought you did too, in New Orleans. I won’t lie; you made a major mistake in turning on Gambit, one that could have gotten you killed. Sentinels, especially those with the feral strain, don’t take kindly to people endangering their Guides. But I know that you want to make amends, you can do it.”
“But Gambit...”
“Gambit is an empath, if you let him in he will know what you’re feeling, and then Logan isn’t going to stand a chance.” Blair patted her arm. “At least give it a go.”
Jubilee nodded, not trusting herself to talk, she clung to her books as Blair walked away.
Logan had been her friend, her father figure, and her security blanket, during the days when all she had known was fear. He had rescued her and taken her to the Mansion. She had met Rogue for the first time, her older sister in the Logan Clan, and then Mandy and Kat had joined. All sisters together, who could gang together to bully Logan, A smile touched her lips as she remembered the time they had coaxed, hell, dragged him into taking them to the mall shopping. They had been a family.
And now there was Gambit. For the first time in her life Jubilee didn’t lie to herself, she was jealous that the Cajun had joined the family, but maybe the family could get bigger without her losing Logan.
_Jubilee remembered what it had been like before she had come down to Rainier,_
_The weather was warm and the smell of newly cut grass had reminded Rogue of home, her father pushing the lawn mower across the grass, trying for the checkerboard effect that he loved. Mandy and Kat had a firm grip on Gambit’s long sleeved shirt, even in this heat the Cajun didn’t wear short sleeves, and still wore the habitual dark glasses ( the sun was too harsh for his light sensitive eyes), and his cropped leather gloves._
_“Come on Gambit, you promised, two on two, no powers flag football.” Mandy pleaded, at the same time Rogue appeared and Gambit stopped dead in his tracks._
_“Bingo, game over,” Kat said with a grin, you’d have to be blind not to see that Gambit and Rogue had a thing going, the only problem was that Gambit and Rogue seemed to be the only ones not clued in about it, which made it a great_ spectator sport.
_Rogue had tried to talk Jubilee into playing but the younger girl had just shook her head. It hurt Rogue to see her younger sister-by-clan like this. Logan declined as well, preferring to sit under the nearest tree with a beer in his hand watching his cubs playing with his Guide._ | 2720d78ac393425bb920e89f03f197da | ['ffbb91b3530e447096ab071afe23f6b6'] | Cole caught a kick and plowed into Pru, she was just about to hit out when she recognized him, "we have to clean house Demon, shimmer us to the attic. Who the hell are they, oh my god Bh'lear." There was very real fear in her face as she recognized the other Demon.
"Re-enforcements, a Silver Blade, Bh'lear is his Guide, he's on our side."
Jim had managed to get to the girls, " You heard her, Blair, Cole get them to the attic." He ducked an energy ball, and threw another. "Now get."
When Blair hesitated, he pushed him towards his brother "do it or we all lose."
Jim knew that he could die, but all that mattered was that he could hold them back and give the others a chance.
Piper woke to a frantic stinging blow to the face.
"You," she tried to push away from Blair.
But he grabbed her almost brutally and pulled her to her feet and threw her to her sisters."Get on your feet, your needed."
The five of them shimmered into the attic linking with Cole he allowed his brother to direct the shimmer. Every emotions screamed at Blair to go back and help his Sentinel, but he knew that he had to stay here and protect the Witches or else no one would live through the night.
Together the demons faced the door, their lives measured only in seconds.
Phoebe pulled a page from the Book of Shadows and scribbled a spell on it as the door began to shudder under the attack. She placed a hand on both Demons shoulders and began to recite a spell, then tearing the page in two, placed a half in each man's pocket as she warned. "Don't touch it."
At that moment the door flew open, Blair and Cole ducked and then the fight had begun. Kneeling on the floor the Witches began to recite the spell calling down the Power of Three. She saw Cole stagger backward, the fireball setting his jacket on fire Blair tried to beat out the flames. Then there was a flash of metal, a sword slashed the smaller man from shoulder to hip, as he spun around she saw the glint of metal and the sword Demon screamed, blood gushing from his mouth as Blair's dagger sliced through his throat.
Blair's hand pulled back and his dagger snapped back, taking another demon in the forehead, as he reached out to pull Phoebe out of the circle. Both Demons knew they were loosing.
Suddenly it was as if the house was hit by an earthquake, white light began to pour from the book like a waterfall, it rolled over the dead body of one of the Demons, and for a moment it was lit up, then it turned to dust. A living Demon screamed as it began to turn him to a skeleton.
Neither Cole or Blair could shimmer out of the way in time, the white light swept them up, like rag dolls in a hurricane. They were thrown across the room, landing heavily into the junk. On their knees their bodies arched as the white light took them, white light poured from their mouths as they screamed, and shot from their eyes, then limp like rag dolls they collapsed onto the floor of the attic.
Down below Jim saw the Demons coming at him, this time he knew he faced his death, then the white light came, it washed over him, leaving him standing as it took the Demons. Only one thing was on his mind… Blair.
He took the stairs two at a time, leaping over the piles of ash, and bursting through the smashed door. Blair was on his face, he flipped his Guide onto his back and felt for his pulse, he was alive, closed eyes flickered, then opened, now dazed blue eyes looked up at him. A shaky hand was raised to his head. "Cole?"
Jim looked across; two of the sisters were helping an equally shaken Cole to his feet.
"It's okay Blair, he's battered but in one piece".
Phoebe caught Cole's hand as he went to put it into his jacket pocket, "No" she cautioned as she removed the scrap of paper, even this small part page from the Book of Shadows could give a nasty sting to a Demon. But with her spell it had been enough to keep the two men safe.
"What did Kaaper want?" Jim put in.
"Well it wasn't Alison. The woman Cole took. It was this." Piper took out an almost cheap looking bracelet, "She dropped this when you shimmered her out of here, and the demon's kept coming."
She pulled her hand back as Blair reached for it. Piper did not like the idea of another Demon handling it. But when the man that Cole had said was a Silver Blade reached for it she gave it to him.
"Let me see it."
Jim turned it in his hand, then recognition dawned. "Joseph had one, he found it at the dig, in 1923. We have to get back to Cascade."
As the three men vanished Pru looked around the attic, and then steeled herself for the carnage below, the sirens were getting louder now. How the hell were they going to explain this to the police?
Loft Kelly handed the young woman a drink of tea, and settled down on one of the kitchen chairs, she noted the necklace and the pendent hanging down, her coven symbol. Marking her as a practicing witch to anyone in the know. The woman had introduced herself as Alison, and had calmed down somewhat when she realized that she was not going to be killed. So when the air folded back as someone shimmered in she only jumped one foot instead of three. |
b052ba3922f94e26ae539d36677eebfb | ['ffc6b213a2744e45a374e90bfb9a0f2b'] | This is a rite of mutual sexuality and sensuality, passion, vitality, and joy. Not of brutality and strife, that would only make a bond of twisted intentions and a bitter harvest.
Sharply Hermione turns to him, "Do focail go cúramach, fear nó fear céile?" (Say your words carefully, as a man or husband?) nipping his bottom lip sharply.
Bucky smirks, no doubt this clever, vindictive witch was going to be pregnant before walking out this door.
"Ghlac do dhraíocht draíocht ormsa, an gcuireann tú fáilte roimh dom mar fhear? (Your magic has accepted mine, do you welcome me as your husband?)
Hermione smirks in turn, "You have no idea what you are in for." Her fingers entwined in his. "Cad is ainm duit?" (What is your name?)
"James Buchanan Barnes is ainm dom." (My name is James Buchanan Barnes.)
"Ar mo dhráma, agus an aontas seo, mé, Hermione Jean Granger, glacaim leat, James Buchanan Barnes mar mo fhear céile amháin agus ní hamháin d'athair mo pháistí. (Upon my magic, and this union, I, Hermione Jean Granger, accept you, James Buchanan Barnes as my only husband and father of my children.)
Good, she didn't react to his name. Bucky hold loosens as Hermione words began to bind him to her.
Breathing as one they spoke, "Ar feadh bliana agus in aghaidh an lae. mar sin mote a bheith." (For a year and a day, so mote be.) Ribbons of gold, red, purple, white and green wrap around their left hands, sinking into their skin.
Taking control for the first time Hermione tips his chin down to nibble on his lips to gain entrance. The kiss was hot, feral, the growls she made with each plunge of her tongue made him moan and strip her bare. Her hands weren't idle as she kept him distracted, guiding him to the edge of the bed. Small warm hands began kneading and pulling at his clothes, dropping on the floor to whatever flat surface they find to be found later.
"Oh."
Shit, this just may be a deal breaker.
Bucky watches his witch. Lightly Hermione caresses his shoulder, as she straddles him. Curious instead of appalled. Deliberately placing her hot core over his, "Hmm, this explains some things." Slowly she rocks her pelvis forward, side, back, side and forward again, all the while licking each prosthetic fingertip. Sucking his finger to the knuckle before moving on to the next.
Repeat.
He feels her get hotter, wetter, groaning his other hand grips her thigh as their movements align. Watching his reaction, she saucily smiles. "Ar dtús, bhí mé ag smaoineamh ar do chuid lámha a dhéanamh, agus an bhéal roimh dheireadh dom. (Initially I was thinking of making you first come with my hands, then mouth before finally inside me.) Cocking her head to the side, "Anois, táim ag smaoineamh, cén chaoi a gcuirfidh mé ritheanna cosanta a chur ar an mbronnadh seo? (Now, I'm wondering, how am I going to put protection runes on this contraption?)
Growling Bucky pulls her down while thrusting up, swallowing her groans. Bracing his feet on the floor as his hands grip the back of her shoulders, driving himself deeply, again and again. Invading, conquering taking what is his, preparing her body for his seed to take root.
"Oh, bloody hell!"
Pouring every drop of lust, passion, and possessiveness Hermione stroked Bucky's tongue with her own. As he drove into her filling her so tightly, bordering on pain, she could only mewl in delight. Heat began to coil, their bodies now slick, Hermione was helpless as her body began to tighten. Her fingers tightened in Bucky's hair as Hermione began to scream her completion only to cut it short by biting his shoulder. Her teeth broke his skin, blood now coats her tongue.
"Shit" Bucky almost lost it. Gripping her head, he rolled them over, go figure he had a biting fetish. Rotating his hips, his witch gasps as her muscles flutter in response.
Fuck restraint.
This was a claiming.
* * *
_Late morning the next day_
What do you say to the man that shagged you until the predawn? Run a bath, order the menu to feed you just to start over again.
Buried under covers and man, Hermione's thoughts concluded, "He's a keeper and maim others who try to encroach on her territory."
Snuggling closer to the radiator called her husband. Hermione peers at the sleeping man, his chest slowly rising and falling. Her husband sleeping on his back, this was promising. She is a woman of her word.
Bucky's eyes flutter open and he sighs awake. His prostatic hand entangled in the sheets as the other was gripping his wife's hair.
Sleepily his words have a soft Irish inflection, "Sweet Jesus, Mary, and Joseph." His body tenses for what seems to be forever before sagging back into the mattress.
Lapping every drop Hermione places small kisses on Bucky's quivering thighs before laying her head on his chest listening to his heart.
Bucky closes his eyes as he wills his body to calm, "We need to talk."
Sighing, Hermione looks at him. No words could describe the feeling of completion or balance she felt at this moment. Fuck caution and logic, their magic called to one another. It was true, unapologetic, and beyond societal rules or norms. A primal instinct that demanded to be followed to the end.
"Ok."
Only then did a matching torc materialize around her neck. It was a delicate duplicate of his own, Bucky smirks so very pleased. | a255a693f76b42bd9d8af9d7ab2b4ff1 | ['ffc6b213a2744e45a374e90bfb9a0f2b'] | * * *
**_Six months later_ **
Bucky sits close to the village shrouded by the twilight. Sitting high in the trees the heat seeps into his pores. Rubbing his left shoulder, he ignores the phantom pains of where his left arm should be. Here he is a man marred by war, a survivor trying to balance the realities of the present with the specters of the past.
Shuri and her team have been a great help both physically and psychologically. In return, he acts as a third party when the Wankandan tribes are unable to be involved or as helping hand. The realist in him understood what was being invested in him. Talents and skills like his are a valuable commodity, tools of war, this time he can be used to balance the scales.
Each mission kept his body prime, reflexes sharp and his mind focused on the moment. Pushing aside the ongoing issue of his fragmented mind is still piecing together memories like a puzzle. Some would arise with clarity and fit into its space. Others dig like sharp slivers with jagged edges into his psyche before absorbing into the picture.
Weeks would go by as he continuously work his body into a calm state, trying to avoid his triggers. But it doesn’t always work and the haunting echoing screams of those bastards’ missions would awaken him.
This will be the cycle for the rest of his life. Control his triggers or be controlled.
His eyes focus as the echoing pain fades as the faint pulse of…something. A tender coaxing feeling, welcoming, secure. Curling around him, soothing his twitching skin, unknotting his tight muscles, easing the aches of his bones then recede into a longing.
This hasn’t happened since his mother passed. Something she could only do when he or his sister was severely stressed.
Closing his eyes as he raises his head towards the stars baring his teeth, his faint core pulse with a yearning response.
Flipping the Kimoyo beads, into his hand and rotating it, praying for guidance, his fingers press against the agate bead, three scents fill his senses.
_'Indian ink'_
_'Mahogany'_
_'Clementines'_
Blinking, Bucky stares at the lone semi-precious bead. filled with innocence. A gift from the magical child he met in T’Challa’s chambers. A black, white striped fire agate. Properties; helps clear emotional pain, ideal for focusing and alertness. He wasn’t naïve to believe in coincidences. Maybe his heritage wasn’t so useless after all.
* * *
**_Under the same sky_ **
Across the country situated in one of the tiered valleys of the J’Abari mountain range the village, Indlu Endlwin, the oldest community of the tribe was now the home to the Granger family.
Leaning against the window frame Hermione watches the snow gently fall.
This land calls so sweetly, beckoning with open arms. Take root, settle down, make it, _Home_.
Then there was the sensual prodding of her aura.
Teasing her to take notice. Like a strutting sleek predator, headbutting her for attention. Not prickly, harsh or demanding, ready to take and leave behind nothing in its wake if not acknowledge as hinted by Molly. Nor did it feel as the energy would swell and become domineering as explained by Tonks.
It did not twist mercilessly with an impertinent energy to conquer, well not in a destructive way.
This was a profound feeling, genuine, and dark, so vastly dark, whispering, faintly leaving lingering scents of freshly mown grass, parchment and...
Hermione closes her eyes, breathing deeply, separating the notes of the phantom scent, ending with a wanting sigh. Her whole body trembled with anticipation.
_Oh, the moon and stars above…_
The bite of iron or metal.
The primal call, the Elders in Peru would say. All magical beings are attuned to find the most idealistic mate to produce the most well-balanced offspring.
Nature is a sadistic force when not acknowledged. It can be ignored or suppressed to hide it. But it will have its way.
If not properly heeded then consequences will be paid. In blood, flesh or mental anguish.
One of the main suspected reasons magical the birth rates among the British Purebloods have dropped since the 1940s. Man’s need to control nature always ends deadly. Selective breeding based on political standing and wealth is standard practice within the elite, true magical matches became nonexistent.
Idiots.
Hermione didn’t want to make the same mistake as the dimwitted and bigoted. But it was hard to submit to her instincts and trust another outside family. History etched that mistake into her skin and taken some of her sanity. Making her so cautious especially now with the children.
Looking at the horizon, the tendril of his call ends in a sorrowful pulse, causing her to ache in response. Closing her eyes, she prays, pushing her magic towards him slowly so not to cause alarm.
She has trusted her magic so far. It saved her from madness and those whom would do her harm. Now was time to find her mate.
Noelle happily squeaks as Idris tells his sister of his day at camp. Hermione's eyes roam their home. Magic is building waiting for an anchor. She couldn’t be put off any longer.
* * *
**_Three days later_ **
Clad in traditional Wakandan clothing of the Golden Tribe, Bucky ventures from one city to another. Taking the train line, he watches the passing landscape; his instincts pulling him towards his witch. He wasn’t stupid, the call and response started manifesting since she gave birth a year ago. Only after her son gave him the bead was he able to put the pieces together. Dr. Hermione J. Granger was his, so were her children by tradition.
Considering her reputation, he may need to take a blood oath.
Around the age of ten, his mother and father sat down at the family table and told him all of their family histories. He and his sister, Rebecca, were second generation squibs. |
44104acf905e41dba2b7300953ae9992 | ['ffe82b46d9c84630ae65ed94dc6cf26b'] | After walking in a comfortable silence around the whole school, Jongdae, tired, stopped under the school field's wooden bleachers. It was another one of the hidden places he could've used to run away from Luhan. But it was such in a close vicinity to the soccer field that he didn't take any chances. Packs of cigarettes were strewn all over the floor, along with different sized used condoms and some more trash.
They sat in a fairly clean space, a couple of inches away from each other. Jongdae dabbed his sweat with a tissue. "Have you read the book?" He didn't know why he wanted to talk to _ Jongin _ of all people. Maybe going crazy was a side effect to his withdrawal of killings.
Jongin’s eyes lit up at the question, bliss evident that he had asked. "I'm not finished yet but I'm invested in it. I'm not sure if I can finish it as quickly because I have a lot of stuff I need to do. But I like it, it really makes you think how far one person can go to do something for someone. The main character wants to live in a fantasy with his neighbor and her daughter. I'm really excited because it's not like those mystery whodunnits among crime thrillers. You already know..." At this point, Jongdae had just tuned out Jongin's boyish voice and was just observing him.
"...you're not listening."
"What?"
Jongin sighed. "That was the most words I've ever said to someone in a single succession."
"Oh, really. I should be proud then."
"But you didn't eve--" They were interrupted by footsteps and no sooner than later, a couple hand in hand checked to see if the place was empty. They must've recognized who Jongdae and Jongin were, because they were whispering to each other when they left quickly.
Jongin was frowning. "I've heard about this online poll through Baekhyun. He wasn't really, uh, happy as he talked about it. Said it was all Luhan's fault. But apparently I'm involved? And now people are starting to look at me. I'm uncomfortable." Jongin must've realized he was blabbering, for he shut his mouth tight after.
"It's not you, it's me." Jongdae raised his head. "I thought you would've noticed by now, but I'm kind of amazing. So hanging out with me gives you that exposure." He loved it when people duly noted about how amazing he was. Now they were talking about how _ terrifying _ he was. Same difference.
"You and Luhan..." Jongin started, looking like a little lost boy. He always did. "...you guys have a thing?"
"What? _ No. _ That's gross."
"He seems to like you."
"If I liked you, will we be automatically having a "thing"? I don't think so."
Jongin was flustered, nervously fumbling with his rolled up sleeves. "You guys are always seen together."
"You mean the times he has stalked me." Jongdae shivered slightly. "Stop it. Don't talk anymore."
"He seems really nice and harmless."
Jongdae laughed at that. This kid was such a bad judge of character. "Trust me, he's far from that." So was Jongdae but he didn't want to ruin his good boy image to Jongin so quick.
"Or that Seulgi girl," said Jongin, nodding in thought. "She's always at your heels. Like... Jongdae, I'm not going to judge you if you ever date again."
"Can you stop worrying about who I'm dating? Because I won't date anyone. Ever." He had never loved and he was starting to think he never would. That was all fine to him, though. Everything about his life should only focus on himself. "Once was enough."
Through the cracked entrance, a hard wind blew that swayed the tall trees and Jongdae's perm almost off of his head. Moomin was carried by the wind in the process, thankfully landing on Jongin and not on some god-forbidden condom wrapper.
Jongin offered it to Jongdae. "Here."
Just then, a vivid image accompanied by a swirling headache popped up. A boy holding the same doll was in Jongin's position, arms extended towards Jongdae. It only passed by a second, because when Jongdae blinked, it was Jongin looking at him with worry.
He was deluding himself. For a moment, Jongin had looked like the boy in his dreams.
"Is everything alright?" Jongin rushed over to Jongdae's aid, about to pat his shoulder but then stopped himself just in time. Jongdae looked at the hand that almost caused him harm, and Jongin dropped it, muttering an apology.
Jongdae took a deep breath and grabbed Moomin from Jongin. The heat was getting to him. "I'm alright. Let's talk some other time." And he left.
-
Liyin's smile became even more strained each passing day, Jongdae discerned.
And then one day, she just stopped smiling.
"I think," said Jongdae just because he thought maybe he didn't need to do it. "I need to tell you th--"
"--Dont."
-
Jongdae felt himself being slammed against the cold tiles of the bathroom wall, and he cried out in pain. Pain for his back and pain for the hold Zhoumi had on him. Zhoumi was only a few inches of him, forcing Jongdae to look at his fiery eyes while he grabbed onto his collar. "You nosy son of a bitch!"
"Let go of me, please," Jongdae offered nicely.
"You fucking _ know _ !" He spat on his face. "If you know what's good for you, you better shut up that mouth of yours. If Liyin finds out... just what made you think you can pull up that shit?" It was coming, the punch they both knew was bound to happen. But at the last moment, when Jongdae was closing his eyes and thinking about the measures he needed to fix his face after this, Zhoumi loosened his hold.
Zhoumi used his free hand to massage his head, mumbling, "No... no... that won't happen... no..." | 4dd1200661484cff9ef8fdb20fcad64c | ['ffe82b46d9c84630ae65ed94dc6cf26b'] | Jongdae joined them and saw what the commotion was all about. They were all looking down the ground, eyes fixed on Yixing's gift for Jongin — the dismembered rat, except this time, the rat was already chopped into pieces.
"I... I..." Baekhyun covered his mouth with his hands in an attempt to keep himself from throwing up. He wrapped his free hand around a chair handle to steady himself. "I found it here when I was about to prepare breakfast."
"Don't you think--" Tao began, but Baekhyun shut him up with a menacing glare.
Now they were all suspecting he was behind it, he could tell. This was all so petty. Jongdae crossed his arms as he shivered. Did someone turn down the heater as well? "Think what, Tao?" he asked, then, voice quivering in the cold. He hoped no one noticed and took that as a sign of weakness.
Tao only observed Jongdae's tired, red eyes and his unusual throaty voice, but didn't say anything.
"I saw it last night," Jongdae coughed. "Well, no. I smelled it. But I was actually too lazy to do something about it."
"Okay, you know and did nothing?" asked Baekhyun.
Jongdae ran his fingers through his hair as he considered all his possible excuses. Yixing answered for him, though, going for the save even before he could get out another word. "Jongdae was having a nightmare last night so I woke him up."
Jongdae sneered. Did he really had to disclose that information?
Luhan arched his eyebrows in interest. "Nightmares? Do you have a traumatic past now or something?"
Ignoring him, Jongdae settled on one of the reclining chairs close to the fireplace. His half-lidded eyes almost closed as soon as he felt the little knots of tension in his back coming off one-by-one. "Can we just go back to the matter at hand so you all can stop suspecting it was my doing?" he groaned.
A chorus of "No!" filled the room.
"No!" Baekhyun shrieked, looking at anywhere but at him. "Of course we don't suspect you! It's just... I'm really worried about which one of us would pull something sick like this."
"Yixing was awake, too. Don't just forget about him," he added.
Yixing rolled his eyes. "Really now? You know what? I say we just leave this thing behind us. Baek and Tao have to leave for the airport in 2 hours and I can guess Baekhyun's not at all finished packing just yet."
"Hey!" Baekhyun opposed.
"He's right," Jongin quietly contributed.
"About what?!"
Jongin backed away. "About putting the thing behind us. Not about you..."
Meanwhile. Luhan had the decency to actually close the box containing the dead animal. "I'll make myself useful..."
"For the first time," Jongdae mumbled under his breath.
"...and take this one outside, Just call me whenever breakfast's ready," Luhan finished. He carried the box on his arms and stepped outside on the falling snow.
Jongdae followed suit as soon as everyone went back to minding their own businesses. The snow on the ground wasn't as thick as yesterday’s. He mashed the snow under his boots as he and Luhan made their way next to the garbage dump.
"Initially, I thought it was you," Luhan said while turning around the corner. "But I know better than that."
"Do you?"
"Well, I don't have an idea who it is, really." Luhan finally disposed of the damn thing, shaking his mittens.
"And here I thought you were supposed to be smart." Jongdae gave him a pitying look while tilting his head to the side. His expression turned serious at his next words, however. "It's obviously Yixing."
"Huh." Luhan was thinking about it. Jongdae could tell just by seeing Luhan twist his mouth. "Yixing, huh. That's the last person on my list."
They walked slowly together, hands in their pockets. "Can't you see it? He's just putting on this facade that he's just your average normal guy. I bet he's smarter than half of our group."
"This is all very unusual. But I can see your point. He's appeared sly at times."
"And," Jongdae rushed, pausing to kick some snow, "He obviously wants to point fingers at me. Make everyone turn their backs on me and suspect me. I don't know why he's doing it and why now of all times." Not like Jongdae had done Yixing anything wrong. Was Yixing actually smart enough to know that he had a hand on those murders? Powerful Luhan, he could believe, but Yixing? _ Hmm. _
"Maybe you wronged him recently? Refuse a tutoring session, insult a book he's reading...?"
Jongdae was unamused. "Very funny. I can't think of anything, really. How about you? Seeing you're his confidant and all."
Memories came flooding back to when Luhan and Yixing were always seen together and talking in a private place. Jongdae had not forgotten about those. At the beginning of the school year, he had paid Yixing absolutely no mind, putting him in the Uninteresting People List next to Jongin. But so many things had changed these past few months. Anyone could be against him now.
Luhan feigned offence, clutching his chest in a Tao-like manner. He gaped at Jongdae, stating, "How dare you insinuate such things!" He went back to being the annoying guy that he was the next second, though. "C'mon, Jongdae. I'm _ your _ man through and through."
"Yipee," Jongdae said dryly, voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Actually, if anything..." Luhan's voice dropped down to a whisper. "I think it's Jongin."
Jongdae quickly dismissed that idea, shaking his head. "Are you hearing yourself?" There was _ no way. _
Jongdae risked a glance over his shoulder and at the vacation house. He thought he was just seeing things, at first, but he couldn't be mistaken — that was Jongin just now, watching them through the window before shutting the curtains in a swift motion. That was _ odd _ . |
19448fcc2feb47a414dfdd6094c5fc44e306aa92e8676eb9cca2a04fadd241e5 | ['0000baffcbdd4cf28fc5df4674aaad51'] | The reason why it wasn't working was because I wasn't checking for the margins when the buttons were clicked.
I changed my code as follow:
const nextBtn = document.querySelector('#slideNext');
const prevBtn = document.querySelector('#slidePrev');
const slider = document.querySelector('.boxes-container');
const slideWidth = 250;
// Slider initial margin
slider.style.marginLeft = "0px";
function check() {
if (slider.style.marginLeft == "0px") {
prevBtn.style.display = "none";
} else if (slider.style.marginLeft == "-1000px") {
nextBtn.style.display = "none";
} else {
nextBtn.style.display = "inline-block";
prevBtn.style.display = "inline-block";
}
}
window.onload = check(); // Check the margins when the page is loaded
nextBtn.onclick = function() {
slider.style.marginLeft = (parseInt(slider.style.marginLeft, 0) - slideWidth) + 'px';
check();
}
prevBtn.onclick = function() {
slider.style.marginLeft = (parseInt(slider.style.marginLeft, 0) + slideWidth) + 'px';
check();
}
Wrapped the margin logic inside of a check() function
Check this function on page load and everytime the buttons are clicked
Thanks to <PERSON> for his precious help!
| fd801e8e0b3a233537458590cd600dfba2b31cfeb80bb84c5229c95ce9a33428 | ['0000baffcbdd4cf28fc5df4674aaad51'] | I am trying to create a simple slider using javascript.
So far, here is my code :
html:
<div class="carousel-container">
<div class="slides-container">
<div class="slide">
<img src="assets/images/image-1.jpg" alt="">
</div>
<div class="slide">
<img src="assets/images/image-3.jpg" alt="">
</div>
<div class="slide">
<img src="assets/images/image-2.jpg" alt="">
</div>
<div class="slide">
<img src="assets/images/image-3.jpg" alt="">
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="carousel-nav">
<button class="button-previous">Previous</button>
<button class="button-next">Next</button>
</div>
Js :
const slides = document.querySelectorAll('.slide')
const slidesContainer = document.querySelector('.slides-container')
const slidesCount = slides.length
const slideWidth = slides[0].clientWidth
const prevButton = document.querySelector('.button-previous')
const nextButton = document.querySelector('.button-next')
function nextSlide(slide) {
for (slide = 0; slide < slidesCount; slide++) {
slidesContainer.style.transform = 'translateX(-' + (slide * slideWidth) + 'px)'
}
}
nextButton.addEventListener('click', function() {
nextSlide()
})
The issue I have is that when I click on the next button, the slider goes all the way at the end of my array, thus skipping all the images in between.
What would be the best way to have my for loop stop at each image and go again when the button is clicked?
|
1e81f1e840c83a80aedb19a67c5f4f313402af1909f08ae8dd329b51805f2b3e | ['000913c18a3d4da6869f071c7665dccd'] | em adjust size according to screen size,
yes but confused
does em depend upon browser settings? which settings?
or does em depend upon screen resolution?
or help what does it depend upon and from where can these elements be changed to observe the difference in sizing when "em" is used
| cbb504a3b61492ee50fa74261c5b610cea1fbb6fd4f4d366afa28e21a8c0f3c1 | ['000913c18a3d4da6869f071c7665dccd'] | well
i have a asp.net aspx page, which references a css file
have the font size defined in css as 2em;
problem
want to give option to user to change this to any value he wishes
irrespective of the bad effect to display format
question
please suggest ways to achieve it easily, efficiently and the most simplest way possible
note
way should support all browsers
|
2936f14e066b4d5d42aeb5d7fffb202ecc62eb41af12055f6ea3e4508051b9b4 | ['001387db745a4621a3676c554fd1a274'] | Здравствуйте.
Мне нужно реализовать следующую логику:
1 этап: пользователи что-то делают на сервере - 40 секунд
2 этап: выполняется процесс - случайное кол-во секунд (от 3 до 10)
3 этап: кулдаун - пользователи любуются результатом - 2 секунды
и все повторяется с начала и так вечно
setInterval не подходит, так как в нем код повторяется через РАВНЫЕ промежутки времени, а время окончания работы моего кода становится известно только в процессе. Если же использовать время интервала с запасом, то 3 этап будет выполняться то 2 секунды, то 15 - неприемлемо.
Такое решение (рекурсия)
function round() {
var delay = 20000 * Math.random(); //узнаем, через сколько в этот раз должен сработать код
setTimeout(function () {
console.log('Hellow world!');//что-то тут делаю
round(); //и перезапускаю
}, delay);
}
round();
не подойдет, так как при каждой новой рекурсии будут накапливаться временные переменные и будет забиваться память, а перезагружать сервер постоянно не получится
явно ведь должно быть красивое и правильное решение? что в таком случае использовать? Нужно сделать так, чтобы была какая-то асинхронная функция с примерно таким содержанием:
-сообщить о начале 1 этапа (использую socket.io)
-ждать 40 секунд
-сообщить о начале 2 этапа
-ждать случайное кол-во секунд
-сообщить о начале третьего
-ждать 2 секунды
потом функция должна запуститься заново но не рекурсией. И хотелось бы без вложенных друг в друга setTimeout. И не подобным "Войне и Миру" кодом.
| b46f142417c088c2ecfd72b4ad3ad7ad2903ba3de9d5e419cd7c845fa29868c5 | ['001387db745a4621a3676c554fd1a274'] | Great thanks for the proof, but as you know, I need to use, somehow, some property of my problem in order to show the existence of such a subsequence. So your second observation is eye-opening but I think that its claim about the fact that such a sequence is rare is due to our general assumption on the sequence of variates and hopefully it might not apply to my case. |
2fbb31af866076aa4a5c546be066f38f1c1e04ede221c9a884c42a84f026f566 | ['0017082bc1de429197a2f7ff27fa3caf'] | I am looking for a javascript plugin that supports drag and drop for both touch and mouse enabled devices (IOS, Andriod) (PC, Mac).
Example for touch:
http://www.midemos.com/demos/iphone/touch/?/iphone/touch/
Example for mouse:
http://jqueryui.com/demos/draggable/
Is there a plugin that supports drag drop across touch and mouse based devices?
I understand touch devices uses different events, but I dont see a reason why a plugin can't support both interfaces.
Thanks.
| af6075f4435be43f808880ffa15ec0309f7ca6f21805457563cc47ff005715fc | ['0017082bc1de429197a2f7ff27fa3caf'] | I want my batch file to stay open after processing is complete.
Here is my code:
set CLASSPATH=C:\XSLTANT\examples\word_transform\apache-ant-1.8.1\bin
set PATH=%CLASSPATH%
ant >> transform.log
echo "See transform.log for results"
pause
It closes instantly after it runs the ant build. Any ideas?
Thanks.
|
83c3cb828c34b07807db7e8f95148ae1be0836ffc37b0c2e14fc2f06c002bb74 | ['0043d40b47dc4ceca47e46194a67d6ef'] | Not sure what is unclear with this question. I clarified: gave example of a device for specific use, and asked for more general methods to allow one to measure enthalpy in other systems, and/or generic method suitable for all. It is perfectly possible that there is no answer, but the question is quite specific. <PERSON> - I did bring to your attention specific enthalphy sensor. | c6ee721bfd093968ba06adf13c82bfd2590983f42543dfc577231236164f114e | ['0043d40b47dc4ceca47e46194a67d6ef'] | Theyve actually accomplished quite a lot for team rocket
They infiltrated aether paradise and got bewear on thier side in sun and moon.
They infiltrated team flare in the anime in xyz destroying the competition and nearly succeded in making another base for team rocket.
They stole <PERSON> in black and white and with <PERSON> help nearly took over unova.
They found a portal to prehistoric unova in black and white in a mountain using a turtle pokemon and almost succeded in taking over history itself.
Thats only 4 things team rockets <PERSON>, <PERSON> and <PERSON> have accomplished also not mentioning thier ability to blend in nearly anywhere.
|
26c9b9fd1392aca80618a01ed174c84630d8ad047bc42593c9dbcdb02af8566e | ['004c624ce86d4c578c386662e8c941e3'] | I'm attempting to make a windows executable that uses Pymongo and Kivy. I'm using PyInstaller to create it. I am using Python 3.6.
When I run main.py directly it works as expected but when I attempt to run main.exe it will open the kivy window but crash when I try to access the remote MongoDB with the following error
pymongo.errors.ConfigurationError: The "dnspython" module must be installed to use mongodb+srv:// URIs
[11992] Failed to execute script main
My spec file is:
from kivy.deps import sdl2, glew
block_cipher = None
a = Analysis(['c:\\mypath\\main.py'],
pathex=['c:\\mypath\\build'],
binaries=[],
datas=[],
hiddenimports=['dnspython'],
hookspath=[],
runtime_hooks=[],
excludes=[],
win_no_prefer_redirects=False,
win_private_assemblies=False,
cipher=block_cipher,
noarchive=False)
pyz = PYZ(a.pure, a.zipped_data,
cipher=block_cipher)
exe = EXE(pyz,
a.scripts,
[],
exclude_binaries=True,
name='main',
debug=False,
bootloader_ignore_signals=False,
strip=False,
upx=True,
console=True )
coll = COLLECT(exe,
Tree('c:\\mypath'),
a.binaries,
a.zipfiles,
a.datas,
*[Tree(p) for p in (sdl2.dep_bins + glew.dep_bins)],
strip=False,
upx=True,
name='main')
I first tried it without dnspython listed as a hidden import.
I tried explicitly importing dnspython in main.py but get a module not found error when directly running main.py.
ModuleNotFoundError: No module named 'dnspython'
I did run python -m pip install --upgrade dnspython but received 'Requirement already up-to-date: dnspython '
I'm not sure what else to try!
| 0e66edb17570bb1136b448d58d275a1b8f66c5a407d54190c05b7e1f1c95d41b | ['004c624ce86d4c578c386662e8c941e3'] | I am attempting to get the document from an InternetExplorer object.
I have been having an issue with my code getting stuck in a function call for very long periods of time - lasting several hours. This issue is only happens rarely. I have tracked the issue back to how my code interacts with InternetExplorer. In an attempt to rule out accessing InternetExplorer.Document I have put that code into a separate thread.
However, it now fails 100% of the time. I have broken out the code as much as possible within the thread to track the exact issue and it is object objDoc = win.Document; below. The debugger gets to that line but never past it. Without the threading it generally took milliseconds to return the Document, though occasionally seconds. With the threading it now is taking more than 5 mintues which is when I have the code throw an exception in the main thread.
Does anyone have any ideas where the issue is with the threaded code I have written?
private InternetExplorer window;
private object lockObject = new object();
private HTMLDocument childThreadDocument;
private Thread childThread;
public HTMLDocument GetDocument()
{
DateTime start = DateTime.Now;
childThread = new Thread(() => threadedGetDocument());
childThread.Start();
while (true)
{
if ((DateTime.Now - start).TotalMinutes > 5) throw new Exception();
lock (lockObject)
{
if (childThreadDocument != null) return childThreadDocument;
}
}
}
private void threadedGetDocument()
{
InternetExplorer win = window;
object objDoc = win.Document;
HTMLDocument doc = (HTMLDocument)objDoc;
lock (lockObject)
{
childThreadDocument = doc;
}
}
|
a261dde6b667551c105b357d91fd1765373161dab9cd65ee2ac4c49efbd1be89 | ['004f712917644d7d86166463854dbe5c'] | make sure you have an active internet connections
that should fix it but if it still persist go to your project and delete the gradle folder and resync with internet it should work the magic ,if it still doesnt i dont know if you are including any lib if you are make sure it added well or not confliting
| 81670f47be08b4e5e869d584ee1df76e1d75e4930ad8d8d542d0095d5628f8d4 | ['004f712917644d7d86166463854dbe5c'] | i built my app with rxjava and needed to convert to coroutines for the background work i need help to see an actual example using retrofit 2.6.0 and coroutines and a proper error handling methods thanks in advance
i tried creating a generic error handler for retrofit and a wrapper for network resource states of Loading Authenticated Error
class AuthRepository @Inject constructor(val authApi: AuthApi) {
suspend fun Loginauth(email:String,password:String)= liveData {
emit(AuthResource.loading(null))
try{
val response=authApi.login(email,password)
if (response.isSuccessful){
emit(AuthResource.authenticated(response.body()))
}
emit(AuthResource.error(response.message(),null))
}catch (e:Throwable){
Log.d("any","error occured ${e.message}")
emit(AuthResource.error(e.message!!,null))
}catch (e:HttpException){
Log.d("any","error http error${e.message}")
emit(AuthResource.error(e.message!!,null))
}
}
}
My ViewModelClass
screenState.value= AuthResource.loading(null)
viewModelScope.launch {
val source=authRepository.Loginauth(email!!,password!!)
screenState.addSource(source){
AuthResource.authenticated(it)
screenState.removeSource(source)
if (it.status == AuthResource.AuthStatus.ERROR){
screenState.removeSource(source)
AuthResource.error(it.message!!,null)
}
}
}
}
|
b878166fd89421d76107d6c11263eb76ba6742d9ae38a1cf5fc63618d6d5d956 | ['005bc2f3deba49b3ad797a25b03b909d'] | The problem went away after i restored all the content from the backups i had. I've checked what jdw said but that wasn't it, my httpd.conf did not have such things. One thing worth noting, though, is that my FTP client(Filezilla) had the transfer mode set to ASCII, which removed line feeds from the transfered files. This could have been one of the reasons for my strange situation, but i doubt it accounts for all of it.
| 81b485d4c23d6c6855a3615f2f086a6d0828b28fdaf0a9a080bbaef3ce37da18 | ['005bc2f3deba49b3ad797a25b03b909d'] | These are some beautiful colors! As a word of advice: watch the corners of your photos. Having things cut off by a corner or a side of the photo makes for a distracting effect. It's best to watch for it when shooting, but you can often crop so that the photo does not cut through anything. As a last resort, you may use the clone tool to cover these things. |
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