#...occur in the immediate and near-immediate wake of their downfall?

[fideidefenswhore]

Cromwell, who had overestimated Mary's tractability, 'considered himself a dead man'. His fears were not idle, for Henry dismissed the Marquis of Exeter and Sir William Fitzwilliam from the Privy Council, imprisoned Lady Hussey, the wife of Mary's chamberlain, in the Tower, and ordered his judges to institute legal proceedings against his daughter.

Margaret Pole: the Countess in the Tower, Susan Higginbotham

[snelbz]

I'll Be Seeing You {6}

Nesta x Cassian, 1940′s AU

Collaboration with @tacmc.

Summary: After Cassian gets injured in the war, he’s taken to a war camp to be cared for until he gains enough strength to return to his battalion. While he’s there, he falls for a nurse that couldn’t care less about his title and doesn’t put up with his bullshit. Once he’s healed and the years pass by, he finds that there’s only one thing he wants to remember from the war, and she’s only a letter away.

Trigger Warnings: war

Chapters will be posted every Monday.

Word Count: 1696

IBSY Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist 

Nesta had no idea what had happened.

She was shaken awake in the middle of the night by one of the night nurses, quickly hurrying her out of the tent she shared with a few other nurses in hushed tones. She pulled her robe around her tighter, the nightgown she wore was perfectly fine with the warm fire crackling in the hearth, but in the crisp autumn air, it left her shivering.

As did the reason she’d been awakened in the middle of the night. One of her patients she’d been solely residing over had taken an unexpected turn at some point in the evening. Infection. Fever.

She felt shaky and hollow as she pushed through the tent flaps. She knew it made her a horrible person, but she couldn’t help but pray it was anyone except—

There were two nurses hovering beside Cassian’s cot and she thought she was going to be physically sick.

“What’s happened?” Nesta asked as she approached. It had been meant to have been firm, direct, but it came out shaky.

“He was sleeping peacefully, but then he started to stir and groan,” Claire explained. “When I came over he was drenched in sweat. I checked the gunshot wounds on his back and the burns. There were no bandages. I’m not sure how he had gotten them off—.”

A ringing in Nesta’s ears drowned out the rest of Claire’s words, but it didn’t matter what the nurse said, Nesta knew the cause of Cassian’s downfall.

It had been her.

She had been cleaning his wounds when the soldier had been rushed in earlier that morning, had left Cassian to help. When the soldier had died, Madja had ordered Nesta to go clean up and she had left the tent…

It had all happened so fast.

She had lost a life, and it distracted her from her thoughts, her further duties.

She had never gone back to finish cleaning and bandaging his wounds.

And, of course, Cassian had said nothing.

“I didn’t know what to—.”

Nesta cut Claire off, shaking her head to try and clear her thoughts. She knew she was to blame, but wouldn’t alert Claire to that knowledge. “He needs a dose of penicillin, maybe two, depending on how far the infection has spread.”

Claire nodded, the other two nurses having moved on to check on other patients, most of whom slept peacefully. When she kept standing there, nodding, Nesta snapped, “Now, please.”

She blinked and was off, hurrying to the medical cabinet in the center of the tent.

Leaning down over his bed, Nesta placed a hand on either side of his face. “Cassian?”

His skin was hot, clammy and he was covered in sweat. She swore quietly. He felt like he’d been lying in front of a furnace for a few hours.

His eyelids fluttered, but he didn’t rise to consciousness.

Claire returned, a syringe in one hand and a glass bottle in the other. Nesta took it, surprised by how steady her hands were. She felt as if they should be as shaky as her breathing had become, but she quickly and efficiently administered the dose, holding a small piece of gauze over his arm where she’d stuck him.

“Should I… Would you like to go back to bed?” Claire asked. “I can watch him while I make my rounds.”

Nesta shook her head as she sat down in the chair next to the cot. “No, I— I need to stay with him.”

Claire hesitated, but nodded and excused herself.

Nesta would wait with him, would keep him company, because it was all her fault.

She told herself that was the only reason, but as she reached up to brush his damp hair back, she knew she was only fooling herself.

But fool herself, she would.

This was war. He was a soldier. Aside from being completely inappropriate, considering she was his nurse, one should never get involved with a soldier.

It often only led to heartbreak.

His face was flushed, even though his lips were bloodless, and he looked so…frail. Even when he’d first been brought in, bloody and burned, he hadn’t looked so helpless. Nesta couldn’t look away from him.

She knew no one else was around, knew the other nurses may have been nosy and curious, but they would give Nesta this privacy. And because of that she reached out and took his hand, gently holding it in hers.

Was it really just earlier in the day that he’d held her hand after coming to check on her after that poor soldier had passed? The thought, that he considered her feelings more important than his own healing, had her fingers tightening around his.

I could see myself loving a woman like you.

She tried not to think about the thrill his words sent through her, then or now. It was highly inappropriate, especially considering they barely knew each other. But there was just…something about him. She reached out with her free hand and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. Still clammy. Still burning up.

Again, his eyelids shifted, but they didn’t open. The penicillin would keep him down for a while.

She wouldn’t be sleeping, though. Not any time soon.

With a defeated sigh, Nesta took the book off of the small table by Cassian’s cot. He had read a little more that afternoon, it had seemed. He was nearing chapter six, and Nesta couldn’t wait to see his reaction to the coming chapters.

Especially in regards to his beloved Daisy.

She opened to the page he was on and took out the leather strap that marked it. It was old and worn, and she found herself wondering how long he’d had it, how long it had held his hair back. She wondered how long he’d had long hair. She assumed always. It was hard to imagine him with short hair.

It just wouldn’t look right.

He stirred on the cot before her, and Nesta’s eyes jerked up to him, but he still didn’t wake. She watched him for another moment, making sure he was sleeping peacefully, then looked back down at the scrap of leather in her hand.

It occurred to her how little she knew about him then. She knew about his mother and lack of a father, but he’d mentioned brothers. Were they blood or was it more in a camaraderie sort of way? And who were they? Did he love them the way she loved her own sisters?

Perhaps she had been selfish thus far, in asking so little about him. Usually the man never shut up, was always making sarcastic remarks with his raunchy humor, and now as he lay unconscious, she wanted him to speak.

She wanted to ask him questions.

He mentioned Velaris, but Nesta had only been there once as a child and didn’t remember much from it. She wanted to ask him about it, ask him what it was like growing up in the famous City of Starlight.

She wanted to ask about those brothers of his, if he had any other siblings, and how his mother, who had never married, survived it, living in the world that they did.

She wanted to ask if he’d ever had any pets, what his favorite subject was in school, if he’d ever broken a bone or climbed a tree for fun or been in an airplane.

She wanted to know where this scrap of leather came from that she had been fiddling in between her fingers for far too long.

Eventually, she rested her head against her own arm, still holding onto his fingers in one hand and clutching that strap of leather in the other. It didn’t take long before she was asleep herself.

A few hours later, a firm hand on her shoulder had her jolting awake. She sat up quickly, finding Madja standing behind her.

Standing, she cleared her throat, releasing Cassian’s hand, still holding onto that piece of leather. “Madja, I—.”

A gentle smile was on the old healer's face. “You should get changed, Nesta.”

Glancing down at her open robe and nightgown, Nesta blushed and nodded, before replacing the strap of leather in the book she’d leant to him.

The sun was up, but the chill in the air told her it hadn’t been for long. She hurried across the camp to the tent she shared with a few other nurses. Quickly changing, she tied a fresh apron around her waist and was surprised to find Madja standing outside the tent as she emerged, still braiding her hair back.

“Walk with me,” she said, and took off, not waiting to see if she followed.

Nesta couldn’t help but feel like she was a child about to be scolded.

“There is no rule stating you can’t have feelings for your patient, Nesta,” she said, glancing over at her.

Nesta blinked, not expecting her to be so blunt. She immediately went on the defensive. “I don’t have—.”

Madja gave her a look that told her the woman knew she was full of shit. She went on. “This isn’t a formal job. There is no rule book saying you can’t fraternize with others. He’s very handsome, and it’s clear he’s taken quite a shine to you. But remember where we are, what we’re doing. Why we’re here.”

Nesta nodded, hesitantly.

She knew.

The soldiers came in, they healed, and they left, went back to war.

And that’s exactly what Cassian would do, Nesta was fully aware of that fact. There was no romance, there was no happily ever after, not when it came to war.

“I just want you to be careful,” Madja continued, her voice gentle. “I have seen young women, time and time again, fall for men who did not come home. It is okay to feel for another, my dear, but you must remember the risks.”

The risks. It was a long list.

“I was not planning on anything happening between myself and the Major,” Nesta said, at last.

Madja’s smile was soft. “That’s always when it happens, Nesta. When no plans are made.”

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Pairings: None

Word Count: 1,727 Words

Summary: Touya’s first class in 1-A is a bit more complicated than anyone thought it would be.

Warnings: Food Mention, Child Abuse Mention, Cursing, Anxiety Attack Mention, Death Mention, Burn Mention, let me know if I should tag anything else.

Notes: Yes, I made Touya, Natsuo, and Fuyumi triplets. No, I won’t apologize.

Hair Dye Buddies: Chapter 2

In the morning, Kirishima lent him a uniform and he got breakfast with him and his friends, Bakugou, Sero, Kaminari, and Ashido. Breakfast was fun, he got to have whatever he wanted so he got to eat curry. He'd never been given options at home. He wondered if the lock was still on the fridge at home and how Shoto was doing with it.

When he followed the group to class like he assumed Aizawa wanted, he and his group had gotten there before everyone but a blue haired boy.

"Your hair looks good, Bakugou." Aizawa greeted the loud boy.

"Thanks, Kirishima did it pretty good. I look more like my dad finally." Katsuki grinned slyly as he sat with his feet on his desk.

"Alright, Touya. Your chair is next to Hagakure, the only chair by itself." Aizawa told him.

"I wasn't aware we were getting a transfer, Mr. Aizawa!" The blue boy exclaimed.

"We're not, Iida. I've personally taken Touya temporarily into the hero course for his own protection until we can find him a suitable housing arrangement." Aizawa told him.

"So he will not be here permanently?" Iida asked.

"As far as I'm aware, it's not permanent." Aizawa told him.

"I wonder how Todoroki will react." Mina smiled.

"How I'll react to what?" Touya asked her.

"No, your brother. You know, Shoto?" Mina reminded him.

"But what will he react to he's just-" The door opened and a guy with green hair came in and headed right for Iida but the brunette girl talking to the kid with split hair stopped his sentence. "What the...?" And that was the conversations downfall. "What the fuck prank are you pulling? What the fuck is this, Aizawa? Is this some kind of joke!?" He demanded.

"What's wrong, kid?" Aizawa asked.

"Why does he look like that!? Why is he so old!?" Touya was shaking, he knew he was shaking. What was happening? Why did Shoto look his age?

"What do you mean, Touya?" Aizawa asked and Shoto's eyes got wide.

"Touya?" Shoto asked.

"Why are you so old!?" He insisted.

"Mr. Aizawa, if this is Touya, he's supposed to be either 21 or dead." Touya felt his breath shorten. Dead? He was supposed to be dead?

"Shoto, how old are you?" Touya asked suddenly.

"I'm 16." Touya felt the world crash. Shoto was sixteen? He was supposed to be eleven.

"This isn't real. This is a nightmare and I need to wake up." Touya muttered.

"Touya, what's happening?" Aizawa asked.

"He can't be sixteen! He's supposed to be eleven! This isn't real! This can't be real!" Everything felt too much. Everything was too much. He didn't know how but he ended up on the ground, back against a wall, with Aizawa holding his arms. He knew he was crying but he felt like he couldn't breathe.

"It's okay, kid. Breathe slow. Everything's fine, I promise." Aizawa calmed him.

"What's happening? What happened to me!?" Touya choked out.

"I don't know but everything will be okay. I'll make sure of it." Aizawa promised.

"Mr. Aizawa, what's wrong with Touya?" Iida asked.

"He had an anxiety attack. Do you feel okay now, Touya?" Aizawa asked Touya. He slowly nodded and took some deeper breaths.

"I'm sorry, I worried you all. I shouldn't have-" Touya began.

"Don't apologize, it happens to the best of us." He assured him. "You seem to have been deaged five years."

"I lost five whole years?" Touya asked softly.

"It seems like it." Aizawa told him softly.

"What's gonna happen to me now?" He asked breath fast and shallow again, slowly realizing he would probably be put under his father's custody.

"Well, you'll stay here and I'll try to figure out if this is permanent or not. If it's temporary, I'll help you readjust when you grow up. If it's permanent, you'll stay here in UA and graduate with your brother and I'll take your custody to ensure your safety. Regardless, you'll get your final two years of schooling even if you age back up, since you didn't graduate in the first place." Aizawa assured.

Touya immediately tackled his teacher in a hug. He was scared, devolving into another anxiety attack at the overwhelming emotions. He needed someone close, something Aizawa reciprocated easily. He felt other arms soon and looked to find Shoto hugging him. His lungs loosened slightly at the comfort that nearly identical body against his brought.

"Sho?" He asked in confusion. Shoto was never allowed near him before, so why was he so close willingly?

"Deep breaths, you'll be okay." Shoto assured him. "At least we can pretend we're twins if this is permanent." He let out a watery laugh. Him and Shoto, twins? He never thought he'd see the day him and Shoto spoke without their father around, hovering, training.

"Joint birthday or separate?" He laughed out.

"Whichever you want. Maybe we can convince Dad you were a cover up by the nurses." Shoto, always the mastermind of a scheme.

"He'd believe that, the thick bastard." He smiled, wiping his eyes and totally smudging the eyeliner Mina had insisted on painting on his face.

"Mina, our emotional support emo messed up his makeup!" Bakugou complained.

"Gosh dang it, Touya!" Mina whined but Touya just smiled at his new friends and his newly appointed 'twin' brother.

He was okay, everything would be fine. Between Shoto and Aizawa, everything would be alright. Shoto and Aizawa got him up and Mina forcefully fixed his makeup for him whilst everyone slowly filtered in.

"Where's Hagakure?" Aizawa demanded.

"She's having issues with her insulin levels this morning and Recovery Girl insists that she stay in her office to be monitored." The raven girl in the back told him.

"Thank you, Yaoyorozu. Someone will need to fill Hagakure in when they see her next because we have a special announcement today." Aizawa began. Touya had been told to not speak until the end. Not hard given he was a bit overwhelmed and talking didn't quite come naturally to him anyway.

"As you can see, we have a new student with us. Some of you already know these circumstances and the situation surrounding the decision to allow him here today. I expect you to treat him like any other classmate you'd have here in UA." He threateningly lowered his voice, garnering nods from his student body.

"The new student is in limbo of becoming a permanent student due to his situation. He was hit with a quirk that deaged him five years, losing his memory and reverted him, either temporarily or permanently, to a sixteen year old once again." Some gasps from the room.

"I will be seeking his custody and he will be an honorary student come the end of today's school day, due to the limited knowledge of the quirk that hit him while he was older." Aizawa finished his speech. "Class, I'd like you to meet your new classmate, Todoroki Touya." He drawled tiredly and Touya had to wonder if he was actually physically tired or just emotionally tired.

"Hello Touya, we're very happy to have you here!" Announced Yaoyorozu.

"Thanks." He felt awkward with focus on him now.

"Todoroki? But we already..." The brunette girl began.

"He's my brother, yes." Shoto confirmed and everyone went about chattering about how similar they looked and how they seemed to have been meant to be twins what with Touya having cotton candy pink hair, a mix of Shoto's red and white. He always was the odd sibling out, he supposed.

"So now we have two of them!?" A girl he'd heard being referred to as 'Jirou' exclaimed.

"Yes. Sorry for any confusion that may occur around this due to our names being the same. If you'd like, you could likely refer to Touya by Himura, our mother's maiden name, or just begin calling us by our first names." Shoto told them as everyone looked to Touya for confirmation.

"Touya?" Yaoyorozu asked.

"It's fine by me." He quietly replied.

"Okay good, I'll call you Touya since you seem rather comfortable with the idea." She announced and he smiled.

"Thank you." He meekly hid in his chair. He wished for the focus to go elsewhere, like a lesson Aizawa was likely supposed to be teaching.

Eventually, Aizawa began to teach his lesson and Touya was asked to accompany them to Gym Gamma and to show them his quirk once they arrived so they knew what they were facing in later classes.

"I um...I don't know what it is anymore." Touya admitted.

"What? Anymore? What do you mean?" Aizawa asked.

"That guy, he thought my quirk was dangerous so he changed it. That's his quirk. He can change other's quirks. That's why I ran away, he changed my quirk to something else." Touya was quiet, afraid of his own new power.

"Well what was it?" The scruffy teacher asked.

"Strong fire. Like, really strong. Burn myself strong." Touya admitted.

"Well, whatever he gave you, try to use it. I can stop you if it gets out of control." Aizawa assured him.

Touya took a few deep breaths and tried to call his fire as he'd had it with whispy movements. No luck. Odd but expected. He tried something more rigid and geared toward Shoto's ice he'd seen once. Still no luck. He tried to call something more fluid like Natsuo's water. No luck. Minimal movements to change temperature like Fuyumi and still no luck.

Just when he was about to give up on hoping he still had the family quirks, he tried one more way, combining the rigidity of Shoto's ice with the whisp that was his own fire. And it was like a whirlwind of snow suddenly hit Gym Gamma and he gasped at the flakes falling on the brisk October day.

It was beautiful. He had a new quirk. No longer would his fire eat him up from the inside out, but this new quirk also had a beauty to it that truly combined their parent's quirks.

He looked up to find half the class playing in the snow of his own making, others smiling awaiting their training, and Shoto and Aizawa smiling proudly at him. He smiled and made some more snow at the demand of Kaminari desperately trying to make a snow angel on the ground.

Taglist: @lgbtforeverything @rin-tanaka @everythingisstardust 

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Mount Everest Ain't Got Shit On Us (Fezco x fem! reader, Part 11.)

Description: You were always told that your life will be as you wish it to be if you’ll study enough. That it will pay off if you work hard. And some people were given you like a scary example of what will happen when you don’t obey. But sometimes it feels good to disobey.

A/N: Inspired by the nicer, happier Euphoria soundtrack (Florida by AQ, Eyes Closed by Curren$y and All That by Drama Relax). I wrote this fckn part for three days, hope it is worth it at least.

Warnings: Don't be silly, wrap your Willy; whether you're doing illegal stuff or completely legal shit. JUST IF YOU DO ALL THAT, BE CAREFUL, OK?

Word Count: 4.7 K

Read the rest here, babe:  PART 1  PART 2  PART 3  PART 4  PART 5  PART 6  PART 7  PART 8  PART 9  PART 10

Masterlist and declaration: H E R E

Tagging: @charmed-asylum, @jeyramarie, @pantherxrogers

Before the downfall, there's a ride upon a rollercoaster. Everything is just fine, you feel happy and you have your inner peace to keep.

You feel like you're on the top of the whole world, you’re beyond everything that could ever hurt you. Friends have your side no matter what, you have some fam to live for. At those moments, you never realize that it can all fuck up in an instance. When you look forward in front of yourself, into your future, there's nothing that can go wrong.

You felt it with him, with Fezco. Every kiss felt like a heaven's touch, his clothes were the most comfortable ever and when you snuggled in the evening, you felt nothing like safety in your chest. Maybe Fez wasn't the smartest or the most talkative boy in the hood, but he sure was the kindest one, looking our for you and your safety along with Jules and Rue. Sometimes he took you out of school, sometimes you saw each other in the evening.

You lived for every small moment you could spend with him. So, when after three other months since the fight in front of your school, there was one evening you could sneak out of the house, you immediately took it to your chance and just left to stay at his place even if it was only for one night. You were knocking on the door when the sundown came and you had that smile on your face.

Ashtray had voluntarily left the place when he heard that you should come over, so there was only Fez, you and his nana. But you were calm about her being present because she was out of the world and Fez was taking care of her. As time passed, he let you visit her. You always talked to her in a nice, smooth tone, about the things that occurred in your daily life.

And your parents liked Fezco as well. He was invited to a lot of family hangouts, your mom loved to spend his time with him because he was acting so nice around you. They even framed you a picture of you and him from one of your hikes, when you were hanging on his shoulders with your legs around his waist. He loved to call you a monkey. 

But that was long forgotten when you were standing in front of his flat, knocking on the door, being all nervous about the evening all of a sudden.

"Wazzup', babe?" - The door opened and his tired face looked from behind it. You were proud that you could make him smile only the way you could. No one was able to make him smile except Rue when you were not near.

"Hi, darling." - You whispered and tiptoed to kiss him gently with your eyes closed. - "I have bought those sweets you like so much."

"Yo da best and no-one can tell otherwise." - He hugged you and helped you with your bag. - "Imma help my na, so can you do the coffee? Don't cook, we can order somethin’." - Fez said and disappeared into the back of his place. You made him the coffee as he loved, making some sweet one for yourself and you just laid down on his big plushy sofa, chilling. You were scrolling through your Instagram, adding a picture to your story.

Fez was smiling wildly there, holding a cone with ice-cream, with his hoodie on his head, but you could see how your hand holds yours in that picture. This picture was one of the sweetest you ever took of him. He looked exactly his age there, not tired, his eyes weren't flat at all. He wasn't a dealer. He wasn't someone who dropped out of high school. He was just happy. You could see that he looks really in love at that one.

A girl who was your closest friend back in the town you were living in texted you almost immediately: You two are such a couple goals. 💙

You couldn't say otherwise. The second one who reacted was Rue, of course, as always: Yaaas, slayy queen. She was fangirling over you two a serious lot since you got back together. And you were as well.

"What ya up to? Ya lookin' all happy." - Two hands hugged both of your shoulders in a tight-ish grip. Fez's palms were warm as always. You leaned into his touch.

"I'm here and with you. What should I tell you? That just makes me happy." - You said with a shining smile, leaning the back of your head into his belly, looking him into the face. Everybody could tell you that you were on fucking cloud nine when you were with Fezco. At school, you smiled sometimes, drifting off to the distance a lot, but you felt sad in some way. But it always disappeared when you saw him in front of the school in his car, waiting for you.

"Ya really not too hard to satisfy." - He kissed your forehead for a long time, his eyes closed and when he stood up again, he was smiling. You could tell he had a joint or two. But you were not making a deal out of it. Fez and weed just got along. - "So tell me what ya want, baby girl. Will be orderin' the food for ya."

"Just cheese pizza or some Thai, nothing too expansive. I can have some cereal when I'll be hungry." - You leaned into the sofa, taking another sip of the coffee.

Fezco couldn't take his eyes off you. You had messy hair falling free from your bun and your bit tired eyes, but your smile indicated that you feel safe and safe with him.

"Ya want to lay down for a bit? Will wake ya up when the courier arrives." - Fez asked when he was dialing some restaurant. You leaned into the back of the sofa and leaned your chin into your hands.

"Yep. I think I'm gonna take a big, long nap." - You nodded and raised your chin to his direction. He leaned down to kiss you slowly, but firmly, taking a hold of his palm on your hair. Just holding a fistful of it before actually noticing the phone operator on the other end of the call. He lends you a blanket, making sure that you're warm before dealing with the man or woman on the other side.

You fell asleep for an hour and a half, Fezco massaging your feet and watching the TV while smoking the joint he made for himself. His touch light and gentle and it lullabied you to sleep. You were done for. A gentle kiss into the crook of your neck has woken you up. And a smell of freshly made coffee and some dinner, but you got up because of two big hands around your waist and a body of a gentle bear being pressed on yours. He was pretty heavy sometimes.

Your lips curled into a lazy, happy smile as you hugged the back of his neck with your hand, playing with his short hair. He was like a puppy, kissing your neck gently, playing with curves of your body. He could feel that you're happy and well-rested at the moment.

"I'm up, baby boy. I will get up soon, I swear." - You giggled when you felt the curious tips of his fingers crawling under your t-shirt. Technically, it was his, but you didn't seem to even think about giving it back. It was like he wasn't listening, he was just kissing you more and more intensely, getting into your personal zone. It felt serious all of a sudden, your heart raced and your back started to arch to his chest.

This didn't feel like your normal cuddly session. From a moment to moment, you felt as your body burnt. You... Wanted him. That happened a few times before, but it has never lead anywhere. But that time was different.

He made sure that he found his way to get the blanket off your body, letting you there with your head tilted back and your mouth opened and breathing heavily. Fez was thankful to you for having only your shorts on.

You may have kissed some boys, touch a very few dicks, but no boy ever touched you... Only one of them dared to. It was never with such determination and warmth. 

But this one was different. You feel that Fez is into that a big time. Maybe being high helped him to read you way better. He was defined sure when his nose was raising the shirt up and licked a small way from your belly to your bra.

The dinner was long forgotten as you felt the warmth of his body, the passion of his hands and the love coming from his moves. The t-shirt left your body and you saw as he slowly leaned down to rest his chin on your breasts pushed up with the tight, innocently white bra.

Nothing could happen that night, bud even tho you took a long bath, completely shaved your legs and the rest, taking a duo of undies on. You wished for something to happen, but it was even more than it was in your mind. A palm traveled under your butt, slowly slipping in under your shorts and panties, finding your entrance slowly. You told him nobody ever took you as a woman, of course, you were honest with him.

His fingers only smoothed you a bit, but you moaned out loud. Fezco was unbelievable because you haven't got any idea of how he could reach that part of your body so confidently and gently - that wasn't even possible. He must've broken his hand. He was basically just smoothing over the outer lips, but it felt like he was showing you the space for you.

You hugged his shoulders tightly, opening your mouth and moaned out loud. It was funny for him because as you trembled and wanted him to reach higher, you traveled under him like a boat on the sea. You panted when the hand disappeared from under your pants and you looked at him with a disappointed face. Your gaze met him in the middle and so you asked him why.

"This ain't nothin', baby girl. Gonna show ya more today." - He said with a small smile and slowly took off your fuckingly tight bra. It was some time since he saw your boobs for the last time, in the swimming pool. They were really a masterpiece in his eyes, he was really amused, almost childishly fascinated, by the way how they bounced and how the nipples reacted to his thumb or his tongue so fast. And you were about to go crazy.

You saw porn, how the man could blow your back out, fuck you senselessly, slowly, with desire and passion, but this was so... Real. This was like nothing you've ever seen or feel. His tongue felt wet, hot and firm at the same time, your cheeks were rosy and you feel as you slowly began to sweat. Your heartbeat was off the charts.

"Oh my lord." - You whispered quietly as you felt his hot mouth on your boobs but a cold breeze hugged your crotch when your pants and panties slowly disappeared from your body. He was so smooth that he occupied your mind first and then he did what he planned all along. He was a good player. And you wanted to be played with.

So meanwhile his fingers worked wonders on your boobs, his face suddenly disappeared between your legs. At that moment your eyes opened widely and your mouth made an erotic noise. In a contraction you hugged his jaws with your inner thighs tightly, your body was looking like a bow and your face was just like a painting. You looked so beautiful and lovely when he was eating you our, making slow and intense circles around your clit. And his beard?

That worked fucking wonder between your legs. It was teasing you, adding to the final effect. He swayed his tongue faster and faster and you did something you heard is called riding his face, moving your face in his rhythm.

Some warmth began to concentrate inside of you, directly next to the place where he was working on you. It was more and more intense as the time slowly passed, and when you were more and more tensed, your sounds became louder and higher, heavier because you tried to breathe between the sounds.

Your legs on his back trembled and your feet began to curl when you tried to hold that amazing feeling back. And when his finger caressed your outer lips, you just exploded all around his face. You curled into one big ball and tried to breathe it out, but he worked serious wonders on you. And he didn't stop when you yelled his name between the moans, mainly because of you held his face in your crotch.

It was like his mouth was praising you and just made for your little special place, as you called your pussy. He made you brutally cum without even entering you with a finger. You were completely done.

"That was..." - You whispered and your body just relaxed. You closed your eyes and smiled, being completely out of your mind. So that was a drug so-called orgasm and you were sure that Fez can give you many, many of that.

He watched you when he held your thigh when he was kissing it slowly and his eyes were shining. He was wet all over his mouth and beard. But both of you looked equally contented and happy. You slowly caressed his hair as he caressed you with his hand travel, from your knee up to your bum with delicate moves.

"That was fucking unbelievable." - You whispered and only after he was sure that you won't pass out because of the bliss your brain was occupied with, he climbed to look into your eyes and to kiss your lips, giving you a firm tight kiss, again tugging your hair. You hugged his fully clothed body with your, which was completely naked.

"Ya like a monkey." - Fez murmured with a giggle when he kissed a trail down to your earlobe, tugging it with his teeth.

"And you love it." - You murmured back and clothed yourself with a blanket, crawling back to his arms, leaning your forehead into his neck. You were held in his arms as you were slowly drifting off. So that was how it felt like. Physical love.

Yeah, you have had a hand between your legs, but no-one has ever made love to you. This just simply happened, both of you just wanted it, so you didn't stop and just went with the flow. And you felt like a true woman. Even when your virginity was left untouched.

"Why I have never felt this amazing? Where were you hiding that tongue, baby?" - You asked and slowly put your panties and a t-shirt on when Fez got up to fetch you some food. You curled into a ball, still feeling the sensation in the small bungle of nerves a lot, taking a mug from him. As always, he ordered your all-time favorite, hugging your shoulder with his arm as he leaned you into his body, continuing with watching the TV.

"So ya liked it?" - He asked with an amused tone and took a bite from your meal.

"I want you to eat me out all the fucking time." - You whispered with your lips near to his, then you gave him a quick peck on his lips.

"Alrite, just have a bath, eat a little and have some coffee. We can do it again how many times you would like to, we have the whole nite." - Fez told you with a tired smile and you nodded and put the tip of your nose onto his, before watching the TV again.

Fez was a man of his word and his bed was messy and wet from sweat soon, as his head disappeared between your legs more than two other times. When orgasm swayed your hips for the third time that evening, you felt like you're on the edge of Eden, just about to fall down. Your body was tired, hurting in the best kind of pain and you smiled without having a clue about it. He worked up wonders with you.

It was a strange feeling, having your slit wet from his saliva all over it, it felt too wet, too dripping and too gentle. It was unnatural but somehow natural more than anything else in the world. You also found out that your legs were amazingly flexible - Fezco could put your knees on the bed and it didn't hurt at all, which was a serious fucking surprise for you. The hormones made you flexible like a fucking gymnast.

"This is the best feeling in the whole world." - You whimpered as you took a long breath out, still feeling the slight sensation and vibrations between your legs as Fez cleaned the area around his mouth and plushy beard. But it was somehow strange, to smell yourself and taste yourself within his taste. He had a knowing smile on, feeling sure about making his girl feel good. But even though Fez temped himself with making you cum for the one last time.

You felt his fingers ghosting all over your body, and your eyes caught that it is around eleven p.m. But that didn't play a single role in what were you two doing at that moment.

All of a sudden you felt the sensation and slight pain when something has entered you. For you, it was like going through the first time for another round. Slowly, the first finger entered you; it was practically effortless because of how dripping and relaxed you. A moan came out of your body and your fingers circled around his wrist. Fez hovered above you, supporting his head with his palm and watched your face, showing him that you're in the state of bliss and nothing more.

"Hurts?" - He asked and tried to take his fingers out of you, but your palm stopped him. Instead, you were holding his palm in one place and started to slowly press yourself against his hand. You made it a few times before you let his hand go. That was so much sensation, that you hugged the sheets with your hands firmly - to move against something and to feel it move against you was pleasurable, no matter the pain when you started. Both of you knew about some spot inside of you, but you also knew that if you don't find it, you shouldn't make a big deal out of it.

His lips kissed you all over your neck and boobs as you found euphoria in which you wanted to get lost. You knew that it will end not so long from that moment, but if you could do it until the world end, you would. Only slowly you used one of your hands to get yourself off as he continued to finger you. 

“No. No. No. Stop it, baby.” - You whispered when you felt that everything was about to crumble down inside of your body. 

“Did I hurt you, babe?” - Fez asked quietly with fear in his tone and you caught his face to your palms. You hummed into his face when your hand slowly massaged his body with your fingers. He was all tensed up as you grabbed his junk firmly with your palm. 

“Come on, I want all of you. I mean all of you.” - The sound of your desire-filled voice resonated through his bedroom. Your small, gentle body tried to imprinted into his bigger one, your hand continued to hold his dick and you felt as it was getting harder and harder. 

“This ain't no good idea.” - Fez tried to oppose you, trying to get your hand away, but you were very persistent. You two continued with kissing you, his eyes closed and his fingers tried to make you occupied with something different. But before he was able to make you go away, you were straddling his lap. 

You were all naked, your hair was framing your face and your smile was the happiest one that Fez saw on you. Your smooth move made him sit up and you slowly helped him with undressing his sweater. You loved that boy no matter what - he maybe was not the athletic one around, his body had a lot of scars on it, but it was no matter for you. 

For the first time forever, you pressed your naked body onto his, feeling how warm he is. His skin was so smooth to you, it felt like a flame was consuming your whole body. Then you helped him with taking his pants down.

The kiss you had peppered your body with was as smooth as he were, or so you thought. You moved slowly, caressing every inch you could reach with the tips of your fingers, all you wanted was to be one person with him, you wished to just melt into his body, to feel his warmth and love. Slowly, you started to undress his jeans, kissing his pelvis, making small circles on that bone. 

You took everything out of his body, his boxers, his denim jeans, you were making him vulnerable. Fezco was unable to stop you at that moment. Fezco felt weak because of how good you were making him feel. 

And when you licked his shaft down for the first time, the weed made him do a big, happy smile. He loved to give good eating out sessions but even more, he loved to receive a blow job from someone. 

Even tho you were doing it for the first time, you were really good at it. Your mouth was taking a good portion of his dick down until the tip of his hock tickled the entrance to your throat. From the porn, you have watched through you knew that you should play with the second part of his junk to make it way more pleasurable for him. Your mouth was warm and wet so soft that it made him three times harder. 

After a while, you smiled at him, still smoothing his shaft slowly, kissing his upper thigh gently. His face was seriously looking happy, he was on cloud nine. Your nails drugged into his skin harshly. 

“Come here, lover boy.” - The tone of your voice was deep and full of lust. You were on your pills, so you were completely calm about everything. Or at least you hoped that everything will be fine in the end. The feeling of wanting got into you again - the first time, you wanted to be with him. Now, you wanted him to be inside of you.

When you two laid down and snuggled for a bit, you opened your eyes with sudden pain. He took you by surprise. Not that he did a full invasion into your pussy, but it... Somehow hurt when you felt how his dick stretched you.

Without waiting, you put your fingers on his neck, caressing within slow motions. You tried to be calm and of course, he had to feel it when he was almost three inches inside at that point. But you felt like a fucking velvet, hot and wet, being all tight around his dick.

Your lips felt his trying to kiss you, so your head naturally followed Fez as his tongue slipped on your lips, kissing you hungrily with his fingers tangled into your hair. You moaned into his mouth as the rest of him slipped inside, putting your fingers onto his breasts in a slight shock, your legs putting further so his whole ass could take a place between your legs.

As you heard from your friends, the first moves were the most unpleasing, hurting ones. When those were happening, you just firmly closed your eyes, hummed into his lips at high frequency with a wrinkle between your eyebrows.

Your body tried to capture that experience as a whole, the slapping sounds your skin made when his body collided with yours, how strangely warm and sweaty both your bodies were, how strangely soft his skin was yet how tight and firm his muscles were as he pounded into your body with rhythm. It was a sloppy one, a slow one full of desire. His ass was moving steadily and slowly, you started to relax, every muscle inside of you accepted the way he was moving inside of you. 

At that time, you felt that only moaning will not keep him in one place, so you started to talk shily. You parted your lips, taking his cheeks into your palms, making him look you in the eyes. 

“You're doing me so well, baby.” - A whimper came out of your lips between you tried to breathe normally. - “You can go harder. Just like that, just like that.” - You did not expect it to work, but it truly made him go faster and a bit rougher. That made you roll your eyes to the back of your head as your lips parted and another sound came out of your lips. 

“Y/N.” - Fez whispered and his back arched a bit, making him go even deeper and a bit harder. When all of your friends told you about their first time, they told you that it hurts like fuck. But you didn't seem to even notice, the more your legs went wider and wider, the more you felt how pleasurable it was and the wetter and flexible inside. 

You seriously didn't know how long it all have lasted, but somehow you felt how his pace became seriously sloppy. Fezco could feel his body burning, because of how good it all felt, he was on the top of the world. He would swear that he never had sex which was so good. No girl made him feel so good before you and your tight pussy. 

The sweaty drops were running all over his body, down his back to his chest, he lasted for a long, long time. It was more than fifteen minutes, which was a seriously good score. Nails were running down his back when your hard tilted backward with your eyes firmly closed. 

Fezco could feel how your fingers on your clit and his body was curling and tensing as you started to slowly orgasm. You left your second hand on the side of his face and just seconds before cumming all over his cock, your stares connected. And then, you screamed loudly as you began to shake a bit in a blissful state. You were mumbling his name again, again and again like a magical spell mixing it with oh my dear fucking lord.

He was done for in the next seconds. Fezco couldn't even breathe, he slowly collapsed onto your body as he kissed your neck down. Your body was all salty and wet from sweat. You just circled your hands around his back, gently kissing it on the top of his head, playing with his beard. His eyes were closed and he breathed loudly, but you could see a huge smile all over his face. 

“So what do you say?” - Your silent voice whispered. - “How was it like?”

“I have never so fuckin' good in my whole life.” - Fezco said back voicelessly. After that, you just covered yourself in blankets and he almost immediately fell asleep naked, hugging your body in a tight grip with his head on your naked boobs.

One last photo was added to your Instagram story that night. It showed Fezco laying all over your body like a huge, gentle bear, your naked upper thigh was peeking out of your intertwined bodies and your hand was holding his head on its place. 

And you felt safe and loved at that moment. 

[donewithjeon]

Downfall [21]

Characters: Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 4,373

Genre: Assassin AU

Note: This is a re-upload due to the original chapter being taken down by Tumblr. Sorry for the inconvenience!

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26

They found you.

Somehow, the enemy was able to find the location of the Yongsan division office. They must have followed your van here after the incident at City Hall or used some other undetectable means to trace you. Perhaps that was their plan all along, to discreetly tail your vehicle during the hectic escape to safety. Whatever the answer is, it no longer matters how they managed to discover your haven.

They’re here—and you’re under attack.

The fire alarm is shrill and seemingly perpetual in its shrieking pattern as it drills into your head with each blaring reiteration. The halls and rooms are echoing with the sound to alert the inhabitants of what they already know—the structure is starting to go up in flames with the source of the disaster well below the level you are currently on but advancing its spread with persisting speed.

You’re running down the stairwell of the building, moving as quick as you can to see if there is still a chance to escape. Even if there isn’t, there’s no way you’re going to stay in your room and accept the charred fate that awaits you. Ignoring the restriction of movement in your arm and the searing pain that overwhelms your back from the brash stress you’re putting on it, you keep a steady and brisk pace down the seemingly unending steps.

Until, you can’t go any further.

You freeze at the top of another flight of stairs as you were just about to get ready to conquer it. At the bottom, the fire is now clearly visible, and the heat emanating from it is so blisteringly strong, it feels as if your skin will start boiling if you go any closer. The embers lick dangerously under your feet, and the smoke not only proliferates from the lower floors to obscure the rest of the path you were planning to take, but the suffocating fog ascends in billows to scorch your lungs, eyes, and everything in between.

If the conditions are this bad when you’ve barely made it to the fourth floor, then it’s a guarantee that your exit route must be overtaken with flames, seeing how the building is burning from the bottom up. The threat is drawing nearer with each passing second, which effectively wipes any idea you had in your mind that this could be a viable path to take.

Turning back around, you begin a sprint up the same stairs you rushed down on, hoping that your legs won’t give out on you in this more difficult trek to your new destination. Since you can’t even dream of going to the ground floor, the only place you can go now is up. There’s no need to stop and take a peek over your shoulder to check the status below, because you’re fairly sure that the fire and smoke are rapidly advancing.

You can feel it.

Once you reach the top of the very last set of stairs, you’re met with an exit that is labeled “roof access” in bold, red letters. You throw yourself onto the metal bar and shove the door open, not stopping your winding feet until you reach another roadblock: the edge.

Above your head, the sky is nothing but a murky shroud, but below, you are able to see the hellish illumination of the fire that has already devoured half of the structure. You strain your eyes to look beyond the smog and sparks, and when you focus on the ground near the sidewalk, you detect numerous dim figures you can only assume are onlookers of the spectacle. It definitely looks to be a long way down with nothing to break the fall but the unforgiving pavement.

Remarkably, that doesn’t stop the people trapped inside the building.

Movement coming from the upper levels catches your attention, and when you try to discern what it is, your vision follows the descending shadows as they fall out of the windows and make their way towards the cement. Judging by the rate at which they are dropping, you can easily distinguish that those forms aren’t just papers or objects from the offices floating through the wind. Bodies are flying out of even the tenth floor windows, plummeting down with increasing velocity until they crash onto the unrelenting surface with sickening splits and splatters. Everyone is desperate to escape this burgeoning inferno, and you can’t say that you’re too far behind the tipping point yourself.

Actually, you’re about a step away from it.

Staring down at the scene below, you can determine that while the threat is coming ever closer, there are no other escape routes available for you to choose from. There are only two options: you can either stay here until the building burns up or collapses beneath you, which could be any minute now, or you can jump off and join the rest of the agents who took the leap of faith. Maybe you’ll be able to get away with your life in exchange for broken legs if you position your landing correctly, as slim of a chance it may be.

You take a deep breath, immediately regretting it as you inhale a lungful of the all-too-familiar fumes of ash and carbon. Your time is running out, and you know that there’s only one thing left to do.

Wake up.

You jolt awake with a start, your eyes shooting open to meet the same insipid ceiling from your previous awakening, except this time, it’s eclipsed by a looming shadow above you. Your first reaction is to lunge up from your bed, reach out for a nearby item to protect yourself with, do something so you can ensure your safety and stability, but you can’t move.

That’s when you realize that someone is hovering over you, clamping your wrists and shoulders down in an attempt to hold you down. Since flight is not an option, you start to kick into fight mode, but when your frantic eyes land on the face of your supposed assailant, the tension relaxes from your body in a wave of relief.

“Sorry,” Namjoon says, slowly releasing his grip and straightening himself up from the leaning position. “I thought it would be best to wake you.”

Your heart is still racing from the residual adrenaline pumping through your veins from the unpleasant awakening and even more unpleasant dream, but you start to steady your breathing after grasping an understanding of the circumstances. At least he took caution to restrain you before attempting to wake you. It seems as though he has learned from the mistake he made last time—of course, the nasty bruise and near concussion probably served as a lesson he wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

“Why are you here?” you question, subtly trying to move past the embarrassment of having to be woken up like a child who was acting out because of a nightmare.

“To tell you that you’ve been discharged,” he states as he watches you prop yourself upright on the bed. “You can leave whenever you’d like as long as you stay on the other side of the Han. I was just about to head back to HQ, so I wanted to stop by and see if you were up yet.”

“I’m up now,” you begrudgingly declare. You rub your eyes of whatever remnants of sleep are still leftover and push the sheets off of you. “I’ll be out in 10.”

“Take your time.”

Namjoon leaves with a click of the door, leaving you to your own devices. You take this time to release a well-needed sigh in appreciation for your body and mind finally calming down. It’s much too early to be in inner turmoil right now, but apparently your brain thought otherwise and felt the need to grace you with the highly unnecessary and unwelcomed dream.

You couldn’t fall asleep for the longest time last night, and it was only when you could almost perceive the first rays of the morning sun brightening the dark blue sky that you managed to slip into a slumber.

Evidently, that didn’t last long.

Even though the couple winks you were able to squeeze in leaves you feeling wearier than ever, you still can’t relinquish the chance to get up and leave this stuffy room, even if it’s just to return to the comfort of your own bed. You keep that thought in mind as you go to change out of your hospital garments, but you having a strong feeling that it’s going to be a long while until you have the pleasure of getting some real rest.

As you pull out of the parking garage, you brace yourself to face something similar to a warzone, but much to your surprise, things are completely and utterly normal. With the flow of the traffic and the stream of pedestrians filling the streets, everything is business as usual, almost as if a violent crime didn’t just take place in the heart of Seoul yesterday. It could be because you’re heading back to Gangnam, which is on the opposite side of the Yongsan office from the crime scene, but nevertheless, is seems as though the city is an unstoppable, well-oiled machine.

That is, until you step foot into Kim Daily.

On most days, it’s the upper levels of the 54-story structure, the quarters where the assassins spend the majority of their time, that are bustling with activity, but today, the lower precincts where the news company works its journalism magic are just as busy, if not more so, as the rest of the building’s denizens.

You have grown to admire their hard work and their ability to stay on top of things, because among the many powerful resources Mr. Shin possesses, this news company is one that proves to be most reliable time and time again.

It has not even been a full 24 hours since the incident occurred, yet it seems like the situation is well on its way towards being resolved. The whole of yesterday was dedicated to revising the print for this morning’s paper and filling the online news platform with all the necessary information that needed to be distributed to the general public.

The big headline doesn’t include the gritty details of the violent turn of events that you would usually find on cover stories such as these. There’s nothing specific about the one dead and nine injured, numbers that are blown up with prominence on other news outlets, nor are there profiles of the shooter and his associates, a decision no doubt to keep your identities safe.

Instead, the main emphasis is on reform—how we will recover from this tragic event and the steps we need to take in order to prevent it from happening again in the future. It’s an extremely well-written, convincing, and thrilling exposé on the nation’s gun control regulations that most definitely will leave readers nodding their heads in agreement or at least scratching their chins in contemplation.

On top of that, quite literally, is Mayor Moon’s face plastered on every front page. The photo is not taken from the press conference that transpired yesterday, despite it being fitting for the article, but instead, it’s one of his more professional shots that you would spot on posters for his campaign tour. The Mayor of Seoul looks like a jolly man with thin-rimmed oval glasses, neatly-combed black hair, and a smile that ironically brings out the prominent frown lines on his forehead.

Within the exposé, quotes from the press conference concerning the attack at Seoul Plaza have been included. Mayor Moon responded to the early criticisms and vowed to do everything in his power to make the city safe again. To win over the public even more, he also discussed his proposition of restricting firearms to a greater extent by requiring GPS tracking of all guns that are in circulation from now on.

Between this incident and what happened in Sejong earlier this year, you have a good hunch that the new regulations will be put into full effect soon enough.

It’s all good in theory, but you know that there’s no way that a law like that will reign legitimately, at least not for you guys. If anything, it’ll just become that much easier to monitor the authorities and any other low-class criminals who are unlucky and ignorant enough to carry around bugged weapons.

Come what may, Mr. Shin is managing to make the best out of a situation that could have gone terribly wrong and should have had no upsides whatsoever. You thought it would certainly take more of a strenuous effort to bury things and cut all loose ends; shootings in Seoul are exceptionally rare, and even for a man of his capabilities, you were sure it was going to be difficult to sweep under the rug and cover up. Not only is he doing exactly that though, but he is also helping to paint Mayor Moon in a better light, fruitfully furthering the solidity of both of their positions.

A true win-win scenario.

By the end of the scramble, you stand corrected, having taken your boss’s professional prowess too lightly. Mr. Shin has been running the game for decades now, so you doubt that this is the worst thing that he has witnessed during his lifetime. It was foolish of you to think that any other undesirable outcome would have spawned from this situation.

In the following days, it seems as though the shooting and the subsequent proceedings that occurred afterwards are all that is being broadcasted and covered by news companies and major media sites alike. It’s all that comes up on the TV at the apartment when you have time to turn it on, which you do have plenty of recently as the assassins have been told to put down their guns and knives and lay low until things get concluded with ink strokes and keyboard clicks.

It’s times like these where the pen is, in fact, mightier than the sword.

“I am here to confirm that we have successfully captured the offender and have taken him into custody.”

An astute voice leaks through the speakers as you watch the announcement on screen. Cameras are flashing and shuttering at amazing rates, but that doesn’t seem to faze the Police Chief, Cho Ryeowoon. This uniformed man of experience has a rigid stance and hardened facial expression that makes him appear almost immune to the commotion around him. He’s standing behind the podium to carry out a simple task, one that will hopefully be the bow that wraps up this entire case.

“Everyone can rest assured that the streets are safe. With the recent mandates that have been passed, there is no need to worry about something like this happening again.” Sure enough, it only took a span of a few days for the gun control regulations to be imposed. Chief Cho’s guarantees sound so matter-of-factly, and you’re impressed by his ability to turn such a dubious subject into a highly persuasive speech. “As for the culprit, I think I speak on behalf of everyone when I say that it is only right that he be brought to justice—and you have my word that he will.”

After a few seconds, a picture of the alleged criminal is pulled up onto the screen by the broadcasting station. The man in the photo is not Jungkook in any way shape or form, but since the CCTV footage of the actual wrongdoer was never released to the public, the viewing citizens will be none the wiser. Even those who were physically present won’t be able to say a word otherwise, because with a beanie and a mask, any male with the same build and basic traits can probably pass as Jungkook.

You can’t help but wonder who the poor sap going under the guillotine is, but you guess it doesn’t hold significance. If it did matter, he wouldn’t be where he is right now, taking the blame for your teammate’s actions for the sake of your organization and its allies. Besides, if you know anything about the organization, it’s almost guaranteed that the man did something foul for him to be placed on the hot seat like that—this is just a slightly less practical way of getting him where he needs to be.

Truthfully, you’re pleased that this is being covered up so competently. None of you need the stress of the aftermath weighing down on you, especially not on top of all the other baggage you have to carry. It’s a bit selfish to say the least, but being in the position that you guys are in, it can’t be helped.

It’s merely self-preservation.

Since the effort to recover from the close call went better than you could have hoped for, especially after the “culprit” was captured, the status of the organization returned back to normal in record time. Following suit, your stitches were taken out after about a week of having received them, and by now, the wound is no longer hindering your movement and performance.

The situation seems to have blown over in the blink of an eye, but on the contrary, those few days of unemployment were arduous for the business. While you were all preoccupied with the large-scale affair, it was not quite as impacting to the rest of the city’s population who weren’t directly affected by it. Even in the madness of everything that happened regarding the wanted man, clients were not holding off on placing orders and requests, so to act in accordance, the organization accepted them like they always did.

This is a business, after all, and these are your jobs—your livings. Everything else was continuing on with its fixed pace after acknowledging what has passed, and you guys couldn’t afford to be bumming around for any longer when there were contracts to be signed and orders to be fulfilled. Especially after the news broke that the organization had quite possibly been infiltrated by a mole, not another minute can go to waste.

Just like that, life goes on.

Jungkook was transported back to headquarters shortly after you returned, and yet, even as the days go on, you don’t catch so much as a glimpse of him.

It’s rather strange if you think about it. There are many times when both you and Jungkook are busy with your own assignments, and during those periods, days or even weeks can go by until you two see each other again. Currently, it has only been a little over a week, but these are not the same circumstances. It’s a completely different story because you know that he is in the same building as you, conversing with the same people as you, probably even eating the same food as you, but he himself is choosing to keep you distant and away.

You hate this feeling that is planted within you, growing each day that it’s left neglected like intrusive vines that spread through every fiber of your being. You wish that you could at least apologize in person or even see with your own two eyes that he’s really okay, but so far, you haven’t been given a chance to clear up the mess.

Some of the others are doing their best to keep you in the know, so when they relay to you that his condition is progressing well, you have no choice but to take their word for it. He’s apparently healing up quite speedily—to your liberation, there are no persisting damages from the bullet wound—but you didn’t expect any less from Jungkook. Sometimes, you seriously believe he’s just built in a different way from most people in this world.

From what Jin has graciously taken the time to tell you, Jungkook has been put under special care until he is completely healed. You’re grateful for your supervisor, because even scraps of information such as this is not necessarily mandatory to divulge to the rest of the team. Perhaps he’s so attentive at informing you because he feels guilty about the whole exchange at the Yongsan corridor. Even if that’s not the case, Jin does tend to have a bit of soft spot for you—Lord knows you’ve been softening him up by poking and prodding him for details since the dawn of time. It’s not that you take advantage of this fact at all, but more often than not, you are able to coax something useful out of him.

This is one of those times.

It became clear to you that this “special care” wasn’t just to track the superficial injuries Jungkook sustained once Jin uttered that single word, one that you realized was the true reason for the elongated recovery time and temporary removal from the team.

Therapy.

Yes, assassin therapy is not only a thing, but a quintessential aspect of the system. Just as important as physical health, if not more, mental health is dealt with the utmost care, precision, and promptitude.

The organization holds monthly evaluations for all members working within it, and among the several tests is a mental state check, one of the practices in which everyone’s psyche is measured and monitored. These examinations are tedious at times, but they are essential not only for curing anomalies but for preventing those imbalances from happening in the first place, and the consequences of deciding to omit this facet of the assessment are far too high. The officials and even other members need to know that the inner workings of an operative are not abnormal or unstable in any way before setting them out into the field with the potential to inflict adverse harm and wreak havoc.

Furthermore, this arrangement proves to be amply effective.

There have been a few instances where you have heard of assassins being pulled from their roles on the team, almost always at the end of the month and with minimal repercussions. There was only one deviant from this otherwise efficacious procedure you remember hearing whispers about that concerned a particular agent whose primary job was interrogation—just like Jimin. His personal methods, however, became too eccentric, even for the organization’s tastes.

To put it bluntly, he was discovered to have been cutting off and eating the hostage’s fingers in order to force them to comply.

Admittedly, it was an effective torture technique—there’s really nothing like watching someone eat your own body parts in front of you—but unsurprisingly, it didn’t go over well with the higher-ups, or anyone else for that matter. Shortly after he was caught—it didn’t take long after the initial episode—the agent was removed from his post before he could go off the deep end, as if that line hadn’t already been crossed.

This entire screening process is in no way a perfect one, but without its implementation, the organization could very well have seen greater calamity or even collapse by now.

Jungkook’s behavior certainly raised some red flags with the company officers, and while you can argue that it’s not nearly as bad as Mr. Finger Fetish, you have to agree with the call for rehabilitation that they made. It still gives you shudders when your mind travels back to ponder what kind of mentality Jungkook held in that moment that drove him to go through with his erratic actions. It makes you wonder if you should have paid more attention to the signs that led up to that point.

No, you were well aware of them—you just didn’t act upon them.

You figure that it’s no use in making yourself feel worse than you already have been feeling all week. Now that the problem has been uncovered, the focus now is to make sure that it’s extinguished and won’t be rekindled again. You’re relieved that he’s undergoing the proper treatment he needs, and thankfully, everyone’s extremities are still intact.

Plus, you know Jungkook will make it through to the other side better than ever.

All of you are a little broken in your own way, whether you’ve been bent and twisted or torn and frayed. There is not one person among you who doesn’t struggle with your own self, because regardless of if you like it or not, residing inside every single one of you is the good, the bad, and the ugly. Not only do you learn to live with this reality early on, but you are taught to overcome it and manipulate it to your advantage.

Human emotions are such frail constructs to begin with, but even with what could easily be considered weaknesses, you’re trained to hone them—control, not erase. You are to amplify them when the situation calls for it and to suppress them when they run the risk of getting in the way, but you are never to dispose of them.

In spite of everything, you are human, and they are what make you so.

You can only attempt to hold something in for so long until you explode; it might not always be the cannibalism route, but an eruption is imminent. There have been plenty of instances of this happening—examples, if you will—with the orphans and assassins before you, displayed in the various ways they fought with themselves, whether they couldn’t pull the trigger or they pointed the gun at themselves.

The organization allocated the time and effort to refine their training and selection program so that the possibility of those outcomes has been reduced to the lowest prospect, but even so, they did not resort to producing mindless drones. You are all still your own individual person with innate strengths and weaknesses, the former being polished and the latter being purged.

In Jungkook’s case, he is currently in the process of having his faults expelled, and in harmony with that, you need to make sure that your strengths have been toughened after the experiences you overcame. You can look at it like he is working on his own mission at the moment, so the only thing left for the rest of you to do is continue on your own missions as always.

Without him.

[ellohcee]

So I Fell For You

50 Prompts 

#27 - Fall

Miraculous Ladybug

Prompt List

Reposting this because I didn’t trust my judgement last night and wanted to do one last proof read and touch up.

- - - -

Adrien knows he is not a very competent human being when he's really sick.

The first sign is there on Monday as a vague burning in his throat, followed later that day by a slightly runny nose. Nothing life threatening, really only a mild discomfort that does not impact him. The next day he starts coughing a little, just a small burst here and there when he gets that occasional tickle in his throat. His classmates show concern, but he assures them it's just a minor cold and he'll be fine, trying to assuage their worry.

It carries steadily on this level for a few days and it doesn't bother him too much on patrols or during Akuma attacks. Which is nice, because anything beyond this and he'll probably be useless. But Saturday is the turning point, and he wakes up feeling absolutely miserable. His breathing rattles in his lungs loudly, and he fears inhaling too quickly as it sets off a terrible bout of coughing. When this happens it rips his throat and leaves him dizzy with head pounding in pain.

He's so tired, vaguely incoherent at some points and would love to crawl back into bed only minutes after getting up for the day, but they have patrol to do later. And sick or not, he would never pass up a chance to hang out with Ladybug. The sight of her alone could brighten most any of his sour moods. But when they met up later on that night, Ladybug immediately knows something is up and rounds on him. “Chat?” she asks, peering at him curiously as she walks closer along a Paris rooftop. “What's wrong? You don't look well.”

“It's nothing, I'm fine,” he replies, but his voice immediately betrays him. Even to him it sounds congested and rough as a result of the coughing he's done throughout the day, and he knows this will be a challenge to see how stubborn he can be.

“You're not fine,” Ladybug bites out sternly, reaching up to feel his forehead. “Chaton, you have a fever, you need to be resting!” she insists. Her worrying is sweet and it makes his heart flutter happily, but he ultimately does not want to worry her. So he lies through his teeth.

“No I'm okay,” he responds, and it's the quick inhale he takes to add 'honestly' that is his downfall, making his breath catch and sparking a spasm of rough coughs that render him totally useless. Ladybug's face twists in concern as this leaves him doubled over, desperately trying to catch his breath between coughs while she supports him.

Her heart breaks at the wracking coughs that tear through him, loud and painful sounding, and she decides right then and there not to tolerate this. If she has to be the voice of reason and give him a little tough love, so be it. For the moment she remains silent, rubbing his back and keeping one arm around him for support until he catches his breath. Chat wheezes painfully once the coughing stops, gingerly standing upright while blobs of light swim and shift before his eyes. He puts a hand to his spinning head, prompting His Lady to put her foot down.

“Chat Noir,” she says soft, but sternly. “Go home right now. Not only is hopping rooftops the last thing you should be doing right now, it's cold tonight, and that could make it so much worse. I will not have you pushing yourself like this, you need to rest. Am I clear?” she demands quietly, not with malice, but a furtive concern because the haze in his eyes is suddenly worse and his forehead is so warm.

Chat wants to argue, to protest that it wouldn't be fair for her to finish patrol alone, but he feels so dizzy and terrible after the coughing that he couldn't even verbally protest if he wanted to. He settles on a shaky nod, seeing relief paint her face and feeling it's definitely worth it. “Thank you,” she breathes, setting a hand on his shoulder and peering up a him. “Do you need any help getting home? If it's a ways off I can get you most of the way there.”

He shakes his head with a fond smile, he doesn't want to trouble her any more. “It's fine, My Lady,” he rasps, making them both wince at how bad his voice is after that last round. They exchange quiet goodbyes, Ladybug walking a few feet along the roof with him as she worries some parting advice. Have some soup, make sure to go to bed soon and wear something warm, take something for the fever, stay hydrated. He can't help the smile that grows with each instruction, and he carefully stops and takes her hands in both of his own. “Thank you,” he says softly, his voice lacking the usual flirt and jest, leaving only his honest gratitude that she cares for him so deeply. His green eyes are hazy but do pretty well to convey how much it means to him.

Ladybug smiles back at the blonde, not her usual fond exasperation or coy smirk. It's warm and caring and pure and reminds him so much of someone else, but in his addled state he can't think of who. He'll figure it out later, for now he relishes that open expression on her face, giving the back of her hand a kiss before releasing her and turning to go. She watches him walk towards the edge of the roof, and her heartbeat quickens to see him stumble a little. Maybe this isn't such a good idea, she needs to make sure he gets closer to home before letting him out of her sight. “Chat, wait,” she calls, beginning to walk towards him.

Chat turns around at her request, and while it's not exactly a fast movement it's still too quick for his near non-existent equilibrium. The world spins nauseatingly around him to the point where he doesn't even feel himself tilting, he just sees the rooftop slope an unnatural angle. It only takes a few moments for his body, weak and tired from the acrobatics across the city, to call it quits. As his vision fades and sounds become muffled, the last thing he sees is Ladybug running full speed towards him, desperately throwing her yo-yo as he falls into open air above Paris streets.

- - - -

When Chat wakes up, it's a slow, labored affair that seems akin to waiting for a long elevator ride, complete with the nauseating flip of his stomach when he hits the bottom floor. His senses come back in hazy bursts of light and sound, a dizzying array of sensations that almost makes him want to throw up because it's just too much. But he soon he realizes there's something wrapped around him, he thinks it's a pair of arms. He starts to weakly struggle and the someone behind him soothes, “Easy, it's just Marinette.”

At the familiar voice, he immediately stills his squirming and lets himself stay in her protective hold, as that little burst of albeit pathetic fight leaves him exhausted. He lays there for a few long moments as something nags at him for attention, eventually making him blink. That's right, he hadn't been with Marinette, he'd been with his crime fighting partner. He's certain that was the last thing he remembers. “Where's Ladybug?” he asks curiously.

“You just missed her,” Marinette replies. “She had to go, and she asked me to watch over you.”

“An Akuma??” Chat asks in alarm, trying to sit up. Was she out there fighting alone?

“No no, easy there,” the girl soothes, reeling him in with a soft pat to his shoulder and those gentle words. “No Akuma, she just had to go take care of something very important. Even if there was an Akuma, you're in no shape to gallivanting off to her rescue,” Marinette chastises, albeit a very gentle reprimand.

The hero deflates, letting himself once more sag tiredly in her comfortable embrace. “That wouldn't stop me,” he mumbles petulantly.

“I know,” Marinette sighs very quiet, sadness hovering in the air as she speaks. “You're a good person Chaton. I'm sure you'd go off to save her even if you were on your last legs,” she tuts, pulling the blanket up further over his chest. Chat blinks as he realizes said blanket was wrapped around him, and his confusion does not go unnoticed. “Sorry, I wanted you to rest on my bed, but even with two people, getting an unconscious you through the window and down a ladder without hurting you was not happening.”

Something else suddenly occurs to him at this mention of 'two people.' “I'm sorry she dumped me on you,” he mumbles sullenly, feeling an uncomfortable weight settle in his stomach knowing that she was seeing him so helpless like this.

“No Chat,” the girl immediately rebukes, soft but stern. “She didn't 'dump' you on me like some chore, she had to leave and she trusted me enough to ask me to watch over you. Which, by the way, I was very happy to do,” she adds. “I would never turn away a sick friend.”

Chat snorts at the attempt to make him feel better. He knows Ladybug has a life and she still had patrol to do, but she shouldn't have burdened a civilian with his care taking, friend or not. “Still, I don't want to be bother, I should go-”

“Don't say that,” Marinette snaps quietly, surprising him and stopping his attempts to sit up. “You are never a bother, don't even entertain such an idea. I'm just worried about you, so is Ladybug. You have no idea how scared I- she was when you passed out. You fell over the edge of a 10 story building, you know. She ran so fast, and she had to dive off to catch you. She just barely caught a railing with her yo-yo and you at the same time,” Marinette rambles, her arms closing tighter around him from behind as emotion trembles her voice. “And you were just dead weight by the time the yo-yo caught and she almost dropped you.”

Chat jerks when he feels her cheek rest on his head. “It was really scary, she almost lost you...” Marinette whispers shakily, the strength of upset in her voice suddenly resonating in his chest like a physical force.

Something in her tone makes his heart pound, and he's not entirely sure why, but something is setting off alarm bells. Why does she sound so scared herself over a second hand story from Ladybug? Why does she know all these little details about the rescue? Wasn't there a stammer somewhere, she'd said 'I' instead of 'she' at some point that he just now registers.

Suddenly his heart leaps into his throat and he realizes what his brain is trying to piece together. He swallows thickly against the lump in his throat, and he wonders why this thought had never crossed his mind the entire time he's known Marinette. But suddenly it seems so alarmingly possible as he mulls over the deep and personal fear in her voice just now. “M-My Lady?” he asks hoarsely, a careful venture.

“Hm?” she mumbles softly, not quite catching on just yet. Until suddenly he hears her sharp intake of breath, catching in her throat like a heavy weight had been dropped on her chest. “What? N-no! Sorry what did you- I don't-”

“Oh mon dieu,” Chat whispers, eyes wide as he tries to crane his head back to look at her surely alarmed eyes. “Marinette- You- You're-”

“No!” the girl exclaims frantically, realizing right away she's made another mistake because she shouldn't even know what she's denying right now. She backpedals, trying to fix her blunder and she's really messed up now- “I- I mean-”

Chat sucks in a sharp breath before he can stop himself, and the action brings about another rough coughing fit that rips his lungs like a force.

Marinette squeaks a little and fusses between wanting to hold him closer and giving him room to breathe. She helps him sit up so he can hopefully get a better gasp of air, rubbing his back and whispering quietly but frantically to him, it's okay, try to slow down, oh mon dieu Chat please breathe.

After what feels like an eternity the hero manages to get his coughing under control, taking a long, raspy wheeze of a breath and trying so hard not to incite another attack. Marinette is near tears, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulder in relief that he can finally breathe, if only a little. “I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to get you riled up, are you okay?” she asks in a wobbly voice, sniffing.

“It's okay, I'm fine,” he wheezes, his raspy words nearly non existent after the awful fit. He can't take much more of this, and he's sure his voice will go out the next time.

“Oh Chaton, you're so sick,” she warbles in a tone that is just shy of breaking into tears. “I can't believe you even came out for patrol, you're in an absolutely state, you big idiot,” she chastises weakly, still hiding her eyes against him.

Somehow, Chat holds back the snort that wants to escape and avoids another round of coughing. “Princess...”

“I'm serious,” Marinette demands, picking her head up to glare at him with glossy eyes. “What were you thinking?”

“I wanted to see...” he trails off, his face pulling into a thoughtful frown as he eyes her, wondering if he should press the subject again.

Marinette stares back resiliently at him for a long moment, trying to keep up her no-nonsense glare that says don't you dare even suggest it. But at his flushed face and pathetically inquiring eyes, her resolve breaks and Marinette lets out a big sigh. She realizes that it's too late, he knows, and her ungraceful attempts at denial has made him even more sure. She's terribly unkempt under scrutiny. “Okay,” she finally relents in a sigh, making Chat's eyes widen. “I... I am..” She can't even finish, but she knows by his slack jaw and incredulous expression that he understands.

Of all the scenarios and possibilities she's imagined of him finding out who she is under the mask, she's never come up with a good idea of how she thinks he'd react. He's so sweet and kind to her as Marinette, she can't imagine that he'd be disappointed, and she certainly was not ashamed in any way. But has he ever possibly considered that Marinette could be his Lady? Would he be happy that it was her?

...maybe so.

Because Chat leans forward and wraps her in a hug so tight, squishing Marinette to him like his life depends on it. She blushes hotly for all of two seconds before he stifles a cough, his whole body tensing as he tries to fight off another fit.

Marinette sighs sadly, rubbing his back again and wishing she could soothe the burning coughs he was trying so hard to keep at bay. “Come on Chaton, come inside,” she advises gently, moving to stand and helping him up slowly. She steers the hero towards her window, holding it open while he carefully climbs down. She brings the blanket with her and descends after the blonde, shutting and latching the window. Chat sits on the bed and she throws the blanket around his shoulders, making sure it covers him as much as possible. “I'll be right back. Are you hungry at all?” she asks, even though she knows eating anything would probably be too painful for his sore throat.

Chat confirms her suspicion, shaking his head as he pulls the blanket close in front of himself. “No, I'm fine.”

She nods before climbing down the ladder to leave the room. Chat finds himself sitting in silence, the quiet and solitude suddenly bringing up an array of images in his head as he reevaluates every interaction they've had together. Things that he thought only Ladybug had seen now included Marinette, and vice versa. The thoughts swirl around in his head, this particular dizziness having nothing to do with sickness but the ground shaking revelation.

Marinette is Ladybug. Marinette is Ladybug. Holy cheese and crackers Marinette is Ladybug.

His existential crisis comes to a halt when she comes back up through the trap door, holding a small wooden serving tray in her hands. She walks over to the foot of the ladder and holds it up carefully, and without needing to be asked, Chat takes it from her so she can climb up unhindered.

She carefully crawls over so she doesn't jostle him and the contents of the tray. Close enough, she sits down in front of him and takes the tray, sorting through the supplies she'd brought. “Do you feel achey?” she asks, earning a nod. “Acetaminophen for that and the fever,” she says, shaking two tablets out of a bottle and handing it to him. She then uncaps a bottle of liquid medicine and measures into the cap, handing it to him. “For the cough, it should also help you sleep and it will probably knock you out in minutes.”

Chat takes this too, looking down at the little cup with disdain before tossing it back like a shot. He resists the urge to gag as the foul taste coats his mouth, just barely keeping it together because he's not a little kid anymore, he should be able to handle this. Marinette smiles at his look of disgust, before handing him a mug. “Chamomile tea, good for sore throats and coughing. I wasn't sure if you like plain tea, so there's some lemon and honey in there.”

With a careful movement Chat takes the mug, feeling warmth seep into his hands through his gloves and his face softens. “Mari, you're really too good to me,” he says honestly, taking a careful sip of the still hot tea.

Marinette smiles at him, taking her own mug and having a sip as well. In the ensuing silence, a patter starts up on the roof, growing louder over the span of several minutes until there's full on pouring outside. The girl hums to herself as she stares up at the skylight, where splattering raindrops distort the world outside. “Well, I probably wasn't going to let you leave before, but now I'm definitely keeping you overnight.”

Chat looks like he's been socked in the stomach, face going redder than ever at the indication. “But- But Marinette- I- Your parents-” he stutters, suddenly feeling nervous and out of place. She wants him to stay overnight? In her room?

Marinette smiles at his obvious shift in demeanor, finding the bashfulness cute. “They're asleep, and as long as you're quiet they have no reason to come up here,” she tells him with a calm insistence, patting him gently on the knee. “Besides, I can take you on no problem, Ladybug or not. I don't want to, but I will if you make me,” she smiles sweetly, making his heart thump in a painful drum against his ribs.

“Yes ma'am,” he squeaks, drinking his tea obediently as the blush continues to spread over his face like a wild fire, fueled by her confident promise.

Once the tea is gone and the two are sufficiently sleepy, Marinette takes the tray down to her desk, moving quietly as Tikki is asleep in one of her scarves where she'd hid earlier. She smiles at the Kwami and carefully makes her way back up to the bed to see Chat is starting to nod off where he sits. He's easy to coax into laying down, since he can barely keep his eyes open and is weak from sickness and cough medicine.

Marinette smiles softly while covering him with an extra blanket, before she settles down with him under the covers. If Chat were more awake and aware, he'd feel guilty for being so close to her and possibly getting her sick as well, but he's so warm and dazed that he can no longer wrap his head around the idea. He just knows she's comfortingly close to him and her presence is enough to make him happy despite everything else.

They lay for several long minutes during the time that Chat still is able to keep his eyes open, listening to the rain drum soothingly on the roof above them. Chat tries to keep from falling asleep right away because he wants to savor this moment, this tender closeness with Marinette that makes him feel so safe and cared for. Finally, in the dark Chat's voice punctures their silent bubble. “Princess?” he asks softly.

“Yes?”

“...Do you ever wonder who I am?”

Marinette is quiet for several long moments. “I have thought about it...”

“...Can I... show you?” he asks hesitantly.

Marinette's heart leaps into her throat at the question. She knew this would be coming, ever since that moment on the roof she'd admitted to his suspicions. He'd always been the one who wanted to share their identities, so it only followed that if one half of the facade fell, he'd want to complete it. “Chat... you really shouldn't, it could put you in danger...” she tried to argue.

Chat cuddles a little closer under the blankets, burrowing towards her in a true catlike manner. “You're in that danger from me knowing, it's not fair. If any risk falls to you, I want it to fall to me too,” he insists quietly, truly abhorring the thought of not sharing this weakening of their defenses as a team. Not just as heroes, but as friends, as partners. He'd promised to himself from day one that he would be her shield, to protect her with everything he had if it came down to one of them getting hurt. He won't spring the reveal on her if she protests, but he knows that if she does protest he will never sleep easy at night.

Her secret falling apart had been an accident, but not for lack of trust. She's always had their safety in mind when setting up this rule, and he appreciates how hard she's fought to keep it in place. Chat is ready and willing to show he trusts her with his identity as well, and while he's always respected her wishes to keep the secret from everyone, including each other, he wants to level with Marinette.

There passes several long moments of silence between them, until she swallows thickly against the lump in her throat. Finally, she speaks. “In the morning,” she says quietly, and she can't see it but she can picture the smile that brightens his face. She knows he's wanted this for a long time, and though she knows she should refuse to protect him, Marinette just can't find it in herself to turn him away anymore. Because now they're out of balance, so if one shoes has already dropped it's probably best to even it out. “In the mean time, you should drop transformation, you'll rest better.”

A flash of light suddenly starts to penetrate the darkness, and Marinette closes her eyes. She sees spots from that brief hint, and it hits her that she's cuddling up with an unmasked Chat Noir, whoever he may be. She can't see him, but the idea that he's there in the dark and the fact she can feel his embrace makes her stomach erupt in butterflies. “I'll see you soon, Chat Noir,” she whispers to him, laying an arm over his shoulders and threading her fingers through soft hair. Chat melts into her, that soft touch being the final straw and putting his exhausted body to sleep. “Whoever you are, you are still my Chaton, my best friend,” she whispers, smoothing strands of hair away from his face as he hums in content.

Her thumb brushes over his forehead, unhindered by the mask that's usually there and making her shiver at the gravity of it all.

She stays awake for a while longer, reveling in the closeness and savoring this last bit of familiar anonymity with her partner. For tomorrow, come daylight, things will be different. Not to say that different is bad, but she knows that things definitely will change, and she's ready. Or she will be, hopefully.

Marinette falls asleep to the sound of rain and Chat's soft breathing, their tangle of limbs keeping each other close and secure through the night.

- - - -

She's warm. It's a nice, hazy sort of feeling that makes her never want to move from the comfort of her bed. Her mind still hovers on the side of sleep, as she feels the arms around her but doesn't immediately register what this means. She just wants to savor this feeling a little longer before getting up, as she so rarely wakes up so pleasantly without the alarm screaming that she's late for class. But, all good things must come to an end, and she knows there's something important to do today. She just needs to sit up and give her brain a few minutes to get in gear, because it's not quite come back to her yet.

But when her eyes open, Marinette sucks in a breath of air and wonders if she's still asleep, swearing up and down in her frantic mind that she must definitely be dreaming.

Staring back at her are a pair of familiar green eyes, more familiar than she'd ever realized, and a smile so soft and happy that was meant only for her. Her breath hitches, before a silly smile curls her lips upon hearing that voice in a new light.

“Good morning, Princess.”

[sheriff-bow-and-arrow]

Parenthood

Words: 4220

Warning(s): Sexual Themes ((Not Full Smut Yet ;^) )), language

Request:  Could you do a imagine where the reader and Rick have a relationship with one another and both have their own teenage children. So the two are happy together but the kids don't like each other so their constantly fighting, that is until the reader and Rick come up with a solution

Summary:  The reader and Rick have been together for quite some time, the only downfall of the entire relationship is the fact that their sons detest one another. Rick and the reader have to find a way to get their sons to get along before they start getting physical.

The sun was setting and Rick and yourself were settled outside on a small porch swing. The rhythm was smooth and relaxing. You hummed and leaned your head against Rick’s shoulder. He wrapped an arm around you and brought you closer to him. You took a deep breath.

“This is wonderful.” You mumbled and rubbed Rick’s thigh.

“Yeah, it is.” Rick nodded in agreement.

You glanced up at him, slowly smiled, and leaned up, kissing his lips. Rick smiled and closed his eyes, kissing you back.

“Give it back!” Came a scream from inside the house.

You and Rick slowly pulled away and sighed as you heard the familiar sound. You leaned against each other and just listened.

“It’s my turn for the book!” Shouted a different voice.

“They’re at it again.” You whispered and glanced up at Rick.

“We haven’t even been outside for five minutes.” He said and shook his head.

Ever since you and Rick met, your sons have had a feud. The two of you had no idea what it was about, but there was always tension between the two. Carl never seemed to like Mark and Mark seemed to return the emotion. It progressed, especially since you and Rick got into a romantic relationship. It was like witnessing two cats fighting over a stray piece of salmon.

The bickering was always over random things. The dumbest things. Sometimes it was over who was getting in the shower, who got the last piece of bread, who had to do the dishes, and, especially, who got to read the comic books that the boys had to share. The topics that they argued about were completely irrelevant compared to the world around you.

“Give it!” Mark shouted as you heard footsteps stomping near the front door.

“No!”

You put your head in your hands and sighed. “Three…” You trailed.

“Two,” Rick said.

“One.” The two of you said in unison.

On cue, the front door got shoved open and Mark came storming out with Carl right behind him, holding the comic book away to make it harder for your son to grab it. You raised yourself slightly and looked at them.

“Let me guess…” You said. “You boys wanna sing a song to us?” You raised your brows.

Mark growled. “He won’t give me back the comic book.” He pointed to Carl childishly.

“Well, it’s my turn.” Carl returned.

“No, it’s still mine!”

“Stop!” You said and stood up. You held out your hand. “Give me the comic book.”

Carl frowned and then handed it to you. You pointed at both of the boys.

“No comic books for the rest of the day.”

Mark frowned. “But mom!”

“No buts Mark!” You said in a strict tone. “I’m tired of the arguing from the both of you, now go upstairs and...clean your guy’s rooms.”

Mark growled and clenched his fists. He looked at Carl. “Nice going, jerkface.” He turned to walk back inside with Carl followed.

“Hey, it wasn’t me.” Carl retorted and shook his head.

“Of course it was you! You wouldn’t give me back the stupid thing…”

You heard their voices fade as they vanished upstairs. You walked and sat down next to Rick, putting your face in your hands.

“What’re we going to do with them?” You asked with a heavy sigh.

Rick shook his head. “We...we need to find a way to get them together. To get them to talk to each other.”

“Yeah,” you said. “Without making it seem forced, though.”

“That’s true.” He nodded as he rubbed his stubble covered chin. He glanced down at the ground and began to think. You, as well, attempted to come up with ideas that the two of you could use to get your sons two sit down and talk.

“Any ideas?” Rick asked.

“I mean...the one idea that is in my head is that we throw them into the closet in the hallway and force the door closed.”

“You said without being forced.”

“Force is all I can think of right now.”

Rick chuckled and shook his head. He pulled you close and kissed your forehead. “We’ll think of something.” He stated.

“I sure hope so.” You ran your fingers through your hair. “I just can’t stand seeing them act like that to each other anymore.”

“I understand, baby.”

You closed your eyes and leaned against him in a loving manner. You kissed his shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The rest of the night, thankfully, was filled with awkward silence between your boys and was rather replaced with hardcore glares that made the dinner table awkward to the point where it was dead silence throughout supper. After the four of you ate, you and Rick sent the boys to bed. Normally, the two of you would spend the rest of the night cuddling on the couch in the living room, but that night, the two of you went to be straight away. You and Rick laid on your backs, his arm wrapped around you.

After minutes of silence, Rick turned his body to you and kissed your cheek, bringing you from your trance. You looked at him and sighed.

“I haven’t been able to think of anything.”

“Don’t worry (Y/N),” Rick shook his head. “We can figure something out after we get back from the supply run tomorrow.”

You gave him a nod before you frowned. “Wait...what did you say?”

“The supply run. Tell me you haven’t forgotten already, have you?”

“No, I...sort of did but I didn’t at the same time. I…” You sat up and smiled. “I think I have an idea.”

The next day, Rick woke up before you. He stared down at you and smiled, loving how peaceful you looked when you slept, no matter how cliche it was. He sat there for five minutes, smiling to himself and basking in your beauty before he knew he had to wake you up. He smirked as he sat up and began to leave kisses down your jaw. You squirmed in your sleep.

Rick held himself up with his hands, one on either side of you. His scruff tickled your neck as his lips trailed down the side of it. Rick then moved to your chest, kissing over your shirt, down the valley between your breasts. You began to stir again, that time, your eyes shifting and opening slightly.

You hummed and smiled as Rick pushed up your shirt, revealing your stomach. He kissed above and below your navel. You giggled.

“What’re you doing, handsome?” You asked with a little purr of excitement.

Rick chuckled deep in his throat, his chest rumbling as he did so. “Waking you up.” He said as he latched onto the skin right above the waistband of the blue shorts that you wore that night. He sucked on it lightly.

You gasped and blushed, feeling your cheeks heat up and turn red. You reached down and ran your fingers through his curly hair. You felt Rick smirk against you as he reached one hand down, fingering the band of the shorts. When he pulled away from your stomach, you noticed the darkening red mark and couldn’t help but feel your chest heat up with arousal. You were panting faintly by then. Rick sat up and glanced up at you, his beautiful blue eyes dilated with lust.

“Are you awake now?” He asked, raising his brows.

You immediately shook your head. “No, not at all.” The desperation was evident in your voice.

Rick chuckled as he hooked his fingers under your knees and spread your legs, positioning himself between them before he pressed a deep kiss to your lips. You whined, closing your eyes, reaching up, wrapping your arms around his neck and turning your head so that you could deepen the kiss.

Rick lowered his right hand so that it ghosted over your needy heat. His fingers gently brushed against the cloth before he dove his fingers underneath your shorts and panties. You immediately tensed and shivered, whimpering.

However, just as he was about to brush his fingers along the lips of your quivering entrance, you heard the familiar sounds of shouts ringing throughout the house.

“I told you that it was mine!” Mark shouted.

“It didn’t have your name on it!” Carl shouted back.

Your hands balled into fists. “Goddammit.” You growled between clenched teeth.

Rick sighed as he pulled his hand away and sat back. He ran his fingers through his hair. At that point, you were pissed, sex-deprived, and tired of all the fighting. Without saying anything else, you got up, pulled your shorts up slightly, and stormed out of the room. Rick gently called after you but you ignored him. Your footsteps were heavy as you went down the stairs and into the kitchen where the shouting match was occurring. You didn’t even take the time to observe what it was about before you slammed your fist down on the table between the two.

“Hey!” You shouted, the action scratching your voice.

The boys stopped immediately and turned towards you, their brows raised and frowns on their faces.

“I’m sick and tired of the fucking arguing between the two of you!”

“But mom-”

“Don’t you ‘but’ me. You will let me finish talking, both of you.” You were looking at Carl and Mark with anger in your eyes. “It’s the dumbest shit that the two of you fight over. I don’t care what it’s about this time, but both of you need to shut up! Rick, nor I, will not tolerate any more of this bullshit! That’s why the two of you are coming with us today on the supply run.”

Carl and Mark frowned. “What?” Mark asked with a quiet voice. “But that’s not fair! I was supposed to stay here and count supplies.”

“Welp, not anymore.” You told him and shook your head. “You will do as I say.”

“And...and what if I don’t?” Mark asked, standing up straight.

You narrowed your eyes. “Excuse me? What did you just say to me?”

“What if I don’t wanna go? What if I just don’t go?”

You walked closer to your son. “You’re my son.” You told him. ‘I brought you into this world and I will sure as Hell make sure you wish I can take you out of it.” Carl snickered and you immediately pointed to him. “And you,” You said. “I will make sure your father kicks your ass.” You said between gritted teeth. Carl raised his brows and immediately shut his mouth. You turned back to Mark and pointed at him. “Understand me?” You asked with a quiet voice and a glare.

Mark swallowed and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” He said and looked down.

“Good.” You nodded. “Now, both of you, stop your shit and get ready to go.”

“Yes, ma’am.” They both said in unison before turning and rushing out of the room.

They both passed a shirtless Rick as he walked into the kitchen. You looked at him and your anger evaporated. You hung your head and shook it.

“I have never yelled at my son before.” You said. “Let alone threatened him. And I threatened Carl. I am so sorry.”

“Calm down, (Y/N). You’re alright. It’s alright.” He wrapped his arms around you and embraced you. “You were angry. It’s alright. You didn’t hurt them or anything.”

“I know, I know…” You sniffled. “I was just so mad.” You buried your face into his chest and held him tightly.

“Shh, shh,” He rubbed your back lovingly. “Don’t hurt yourself over it. Let’s just go upstairs and get ready to head out.”

You pulled away, glanced up at him, and then nodded. “Alright.” You said with a defeated voice.

“Come on,” He spoke gently and walked with you up the stairs to the bedroom so the two of you could get dressed.

You and Rick stood by the car. You had your hair pulled back and out of your face. You wore cargo shorts, a black tank top, and boots. Once you saw the boys come out of the house, walking a good distance away from each other, you shook your head and got in the passenger’s seat of the car. Rick got in the drivers. Carl sat behind Rick and Mark sat behind you. The car was silent as you made your way out of Alexandria and into the world of the undead.

The place that you and Rick were initially going to eventually investigate was a couple of houses within a small neighborhood that was discovered a week ago. It was a tiny place with five or six houses connected to each other. You already had it in your mind that you would go in teams of two. You and Rick go one way and Mark and Carl will go the other way.

However, you didn’t really tell the boys about your little plan. They thought that they were both going to go with either parent. That was something that normally happened when the four of you went on a supply run, but you and Rick were both determined to make sure that the boys talked to one another and worked together as a family and not fight like cats and dogs.

Rick parked near the middle of the selection of houses. The streets were clear, but that didn’t necessarily mean that the houses were going to be the same. You knew that all of you had to be careful. The four of you got out of the car and, immediately, Mark walked up to you.

“Which house are we going to first?” He asked.

“Well,” You said. “Rick and I are going to start down here.” You pointed in one direction. “While you and Carl start on the other end.”

Mark frowned. “Are you serious?” He asked.

“Well, I’m not joking.” You raised your brows.

“Come on Mom, first you make us go with you, now I have to be stuck with him!?”

Rick had walked over then with Carl by his side. Rick stood by you and pulled you close to him. “You two are going to be going in the left part of the houses and me and (Y/N) are going to work out these ones over here.” He pointed the same direction that you did.

“Mom,” Mark looked at you. “I don’t want to.”

“Too bad,” Rick said to Mark. “You and Carl need to learn to be a team.”

Mark glanced at Carl with a disgusted look on his face and rolled his eyes. “Fine,” He grumbled and grabbed his knife from his waistband.

Carl shook his head and stepped towards Rick. “Dad, can I talk to you?”

“No, Carl,” Rick said. “You and Mark start looking while (Y/N) and I go over here.”

Carl let his shoulder slump in defeat as he grabbed his gun and glanced at Mark. “Let’s go.” He grumbled and the two of them made their way to the farthest house.

You let out a huff of breath and walked with Rick over to the farther house on the opposite side of the street. You grabbed your pistol from your holder and Rick grabbed his revolver.

“I sure hope that they don’t end up shooting each other.” You stated.

“Yeah, me too.” He said.

Mark and Carl entered the house quietly with Carl leading the way. He had his gun held up and ready to shoot anything that got in his way. Mark was behind him, listening intently to the house. It was silent but dark. He grabbed Carl’s shirt sleeve.

“I don’t think it’s clear.” He said. “I have an idea.”

“We’re doing fine,” Carl said and shook his head, heading to the living room. He looked around. It was all clear.

Mark rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He said. “I’ll take upstairs and you stay down here.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. We should stick together.”

“But I thought you said we’re ‘fine’,” Mark stated in a mocking tone.

“Mark,” Carl growled in between closed teeth.

“Shut up.” He shot back at him before he headed towards the stairs.

“Mark!” Carl exclaimed a bit louder.

“Shut. Up.” Mark retorted before he angrily huffed up the stairs.

Carl growled and stood at the end of the stairs. After he saw Mark vanish behind a wall, he shook his head and turned away, walking in the opposite direction and searching the house’s lower level.

After five minutes of searching, Carl was in the kitchen, finally. It was located right off the entrance to the house. Just as he was about to open up the cabinets, a shout was heard from upstairs. Carl frowned as he dashed from the kitchen and up the stairs. He turned the hall and saw Mark struggling on the ground with a walker on top of him, jaw munching. The knife that Mark had was shoved into the walker’s chest. He was struggling. Carl raised his brows and ran over to Mark. He held up his gun and pointed it at the walker. Mark glanced at Carl and, for the first time, ever since they met, Mark said, “Please help.”

Carl nodded and aimed the gun at the walker. In less than a second, he shot the walker in the head. The walker fell on top of Mark and he grunted. With one swift motion, he tossed the walker on its back and pulled the knife from its abdomen. Mark stood, stumbled back, then caught himself. He panted and walked up to Carl, holding out his hand.

“Thanks.” He said.

Carl glanced at his hand before he took it and shook it. “You’re welcome.” He smiled lightly. Mark returned the smile, then it vanished.

“Um…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I think you were right.” He said. “We should have stuck together.” Carl nodded, not saying anything in response. “Did you find anything?”

“No,” Carl said. “I was just in the kitchen when I heard you. I haven’t checked anything in there, though. Do you wanna come look with me?’

“Yeah, that would be great. Then we can finish up the rest of the house together.”

“Awesome.” Carl nodded and lowered the gun.

“Let’s go.”

The two of them made their way back down to the kitchen. Mark and Carl were on high alert. They were cautious while searching the rest of the house, watching each other’s backs and thoroughly searching. In the house, they found three cans of beans and a couple extra pillows and blankets. Once the search of that house was complete, they made their way to the next house.

“So... “ Carl broke the silence on the way to the house. “Why do you not like me?”

Mark shrugged. “It first started off with because I thought you hated me when we met.”

“What made you think that?”

“You always gave me the weirdest stares.” He said.

“You and your mom were new to the group. When I was younger, I wasn’t very trusting.”

“I guess.”

“I didn’t hate you. I just didn’t trust you.”

“Do you trust me now?”

“Yeah.” Carl shrugged. “I trust you more than I did.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “What’s the...other reason that you hate me?”

“Well...your dad got together with my mom.”

“Seriously? That’s the reason?”

“Yeah. I’ve been an only child my entire life. It was just me and mom and...when her and Rick started dating and she started to get close to you, I didn’t like it. I still don’t like it.”

“So you’re jealous that your mom isn’t spending as much time with you alone anymore.”

“I never said I was jealous.” Mark was quick to respond. “I’m a man. Men never get jealous. That’s what...that’s what I was told.”

“By who?’

“My friends before this whole thing started.”

“Yeah, okay.” He rolled his eyes.

“You don’t believe me?”

“No.”

“Well, whatever.” He waved Carl off. “So, why do you hate me?”

“Because you hate me,” Carl said.

   “But I only hate you because you hated me to begin with.”

   “But I really didn’t.”

   Mark stopped on the porch of the house and furrowed his brows. “Wait. So...since you really didn’t hate me, then I never had a reason to hate you.”

   “So that means I don’t have a reason to hate you.” Carl slowly nodded.

   Mark hummed and looked down. “So, really, we were just being really damn stupid this entire time. I mean, we have so much in common. Comic books…”

   “Video games.”

   “Same genre of music.”

   “And movies.” He raised his brows.

   “And we both like dudes.”

   “Yeah...What!? No!” Carl said and shook his head.

   Mark laughed and slapped his chest with the back of his hand. “I was just playing with ya.”

   Carl let out a breathy laugh and felt his cheeks heat up. “Not funny.”

   “It kind of was, you should have seen your face.” Mark smiled widely.

   “Oh, shush, let’s just get through these houses so we can go home,” Carl said and turned to go inside, but Mark stopped him again. Carl glanced back at him. “What is it?”

   “Do you think we could try my way this time?”

   Carl hesitated before he nodded. “As long as you know what you’re doing.”

   “Yeah, I’ve done it before when I went on supply runs.” He said. “Come on out and stand over there.” Mark pointed to the spot right next to the front door. Carl moved to the spot, standing still, while Mark moved to the spot directly opposite of Carl.

   “If you get me killed…”

   “I won’t. Shut it.” Mark said with a chuckle as he opened up the door to the house. He peeked his head in, whistled rather loudly inside, and then banged on the front door so that it echoed through the house. He then put his fingers to his lips and waited in silence.

   Seconds later, the pounding of feet came towards the door. A male walker came stumbling towards the boys, one arm missing and his jaw wide open, ready to take a bite out of them. Mark smiled and grabbed the collar of the walker and stabbed it in the head. It stalled and fell to the floor like a wet sack of potatoes. After they killed that one, they heard the banging of a door from upstairs. Mark looked at Carl.

   “Coast is clear. Let’s get the bottom half and deal with the one upstairs later.”

   Carl smirked slightly. ‘Wow, nice going.” He said.

   “Thanks.” Mark smiled proudly.

   Mark and Carl then proceeded to search through the house in a team effort. They were successful, neither of them getting cornered by a walker without the other one being there to save them. They had to admit to themselves that they made the perfect team and got some pretty decent supplies once they were done. As a result, they gathered: twenty canned goods, toiletry, hidden comic books, bed sets, pillows, and some toys for Judith. They walked to the car and began to pack the items up just as you and Rick came back from your select houses.

   “So,” Rick said as he put the supplies that the two of you found in the back with the other items. “Did you boys have any troubles?”

   Mark glanced at Carl and then smiled as he looked at Rick. “Nothing we couldn’t handle.”

   You glanced at Rick and raised your brows. Rick shared your look and gave you a smile before he nodded.

   “Alright, let’s go home.” He said as the four of you got in the car.

   To your surprise, Carl and Mark talked to each other and moved the comic back and forth between each other that they have found. You and Rick would occasionally look back at them and smile. You grabbed Rick’s hand halfway to Alexandria and held each other’s hands the entire time.

For the rest of the day, there was no shouting. There was only mild talking. The house was quiet and peaceful and, that night, the boys went to bed without any fuss. It gave you and Rick the chance, after putting Judith to sleep, to sit on the couch, snuggling next to one another, in the dark. You hummed and ran your fingers down his naked chest. You trailed kisses along his chest and to his neck.

“The house hasn’t been this quiet for so long.” You said and drew patterns with your finger.

“I know.” He commented. “It’s nice.”

“It really is.” You purred and kissed his jaw lightly.

Rick chuckled and kissed your nose. “I love you, you know? That was an amazing idea you had.”

You hummed. “I know.” You giggled lightly and hid your face in his chest.

“So, do you wanna go to bed?’ He asked and rubbed your back.

You raised your brows. “Actually…” You shoved Rick onto the couch and straddled his hips. “You’re going to make up for what the boys messed up this morning.” You smirked.

Rick raised his brows and chuckled as you kissed him deeply, pulling him close to your body. You practically melted into his touch.

[unfolded73]

What Comes Next (5/8)

Summary: They lived happily ever after. And then what happened? (A Post-S6 story.)  Starts about a week after the final battle, and explores the highs and lows of newly married life between Emma and Killian as they deal with work, friends, and family as life in Storybrooke settles down somewhat.

Captain Swan, Explicit (this update particularly so), ~4600 words this chapter

Thanks to @j-philly-b for the beta.

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4

Emma stirred sugar into her coffee mug as she stared out the kitchen window. For the first time possibly ever (not counting those early days of their relationship when she’d set her alarm extra early to try to sneak out of Killian’s room at Granny’s without half the town seeing her), Emma had woken up before her husband. She could hear the shower running upstairs, while here she was already dressed and ready for work. Up was down, black was white, and Emma Swan was ready for work early. Something had woken her up at five in the morning and she’d just lain there, awake, until finally giving in and getting out of bed.

Sighing, she turned around to see yesterday’s mail neatly stacked on the kitchen table where Killian left it for her the day before. Walking over, she idly flipped through the pile. There was a water bill, a notice that she was pre-approved for a credit card, a postcard coupon for 20% off at the Three Bears Day Spa, a Hammacher Schlemmer catalog (and she wondered what kind of dark magic they’d used to track her to Storybrooke), and a letter from the Dr. Naito’s office. She pulled that one out, setting down her coffee to open the envelope. Her eyes scanned the brief letter, and she mentally added ‘call the doctor’ to her increasingly long list of things to do.

By the time Killian came downstairs, she was on her second cup of coffee and had managed to make some toast.

“I hardly knew what to do this morning, you waking before me,” he said with a kiss on her cheek. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah, I just woke up at five and my body decided it was done sleeping.”

Killian poured coffee into his favorite mug. “You should have woken me,” he said with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“I wasn’t really in the mood for that, or I would have.”

He sat down beside her at the table. The letter from her doctor was lying in front of him, and his eyes skimmed over the text. “What’s a pelvic exam?” he asked her.

Emma snorted. “Surely you can guess.” He just looked at her expectantly. “Dr. Naito’s my gynecologist, which means she’s a doctor for my lady parts.”

“I’m glad to hear Dr. Whale doesn’t take care of that,” he said.

“Yeah, tell me about it. She delivered Ashley’s daughter, so I met her not long after I moved here. Anyway, a pelvic exam is an annual checkup that women get.”

“What sort of checkup?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I promise it’s not sexy to describe.”

“I wasn’t implying that it was, love, I’m just curious.” He got up and went over to the refrigerator, pulling out a carton of eggs and setting it down next to the stovetop.

“Okay, well, you get undressed and have to wear a stupid paper gown. Then you put your feet up in these metal stirrups so that the doctor can get a good look at your vagina.”

“I don’t have one of those,” Killian commented, smirking, as he cracked eggs into a bowl.

“And that’s why you don’t need a gynecologist, babe,” Emma mumbled around a mouthful of toast. “So there’s a few things she’ll do, but the main thing is a Pap smear.”

“What’s that?”

Emma made a face. “I suck at trying to explain stuff like this. It’s where they take a sample of cells from your cervix and test them for, like, cancer.”

“Cancer?”

“Yeah, cancer is—”

“I know what cancer is, Swan, I’m just worried at the idea that you might have it.” He abandoned the eggs he’d been whisking and approached her at the table.

“There’s no reason to think I have it, Killian, it’s just a test they do on all women. It’s routine. She’ll also check my IUD, although I should have at least another year on it—”

“Do you want me to accompany you to this appointment?” he asked, his eyes still filled with concern. Perhaps it was his life in the Enchanted Forest that was coloring his reaction. Probably in his experience, by the time a doctor was summoned, things were already terribly wrong.

“Killian, I need you to chill out.” She put her hand over his. “There is really nothing for you to worry about. I’ve had plenty of these tests before, and they always come back negative. Which is good, negative is good. It means there’s nothing wrong.”

He seemed to visibly relax a bit. “If you say so. I’d still happily go with you, if you want moral support.”

“I really don’t.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s not that big a deal for me, I promise. You being there would be weird.”

“It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before, love.” He returned to his scrambled egg preparation.

“Yeah, but there’s sexy contexts for my vagina and unsexy ones, and I really don’t want to mix the two.”

He looked at her for a long moment. “All right, if you’re certain.”

In spite of his acceptance of this aspect of modern life for a woman of reproductive age, as they went about their usual work that day, Killian seemed clingy. It was as if, after all the threats to her life that he had witnessed, it was just now occurring to him that he could lose her to something much more pedestrian. Throughout the day, every time they were in the same room was an opportunity for him to press his hand supportively against her back or squeeze her hand or shoot her one of his lovestruck expressions.

To be honest, it was a little bit annoying.

She loved Killian’s affectionate personality, she really did. After she spent her childhood starved for human touch, she usually revelled in how frequently he touched her, and how obvious it was that he loved her. Today though, although she would never tell him so, she was feeling smothered by it. She encouraged Killian to take off early so that at least one of them could be home when Henry got home, her ulterior motive being that she really needed some time alone.

In the quiet station, Emma took a box of push-pins out of her desk and stood at the map of Storybrooke, putting a pin into each of the locations where the recent rash of break-ins had occurred. Granny’s, Moe’s flower shop, and Jefferson’s shop were all relatively near the middle of downtown, while Ashley’s daycare was further away. She supposed that the increased vigilance of the store owners in town, coupled with Killian’s patrols, might have driven the thieves to search further afield for a target. There probably wasn’t anything to the pattern, as it was mostly driven by opportunity.

She pulled up the reports for each of the robberies, looking at the dates. They were spaced roughly seven to ten days apart, which meant they were due for another break-in soon. She really wanted to catch these people, whoever they were.

Emma had been checking around with the other Storybrooke businesses to see if anyone had made any unusual purchases with a large chunk of cash, but so far, nothing. And while it was now possible for anyone to leave Storybrooke any time they wanted, for the most part, people didn’t. The former residents of the Enchanted Forest were uncomfortable out in the land without magic, or they were still afraid that crossing the town line would have some horrible effect on them, and almost everyone behaved as if that barrier still existed. So while it was possible that the thief or thieves were spending their spoils out of town, she somehow doubted it. More likely, they were stashing the cash in a sock drawer or under a mattress, waiting for something. If she could just get a suspect, a search might be their downfall.

The main phone line for the sheriff’s station rang, making her jump. Emma picked up the receiver, and was immediately treated to the sound of a sneeze right in her ear.

“Sheriff Swan,” she said.

“Hi, Emma, it’s Sneezy.”

“I figured. What can I do for you?”

“Listen, maybe it’s nothing, but Grumpy said I should call you. When I looked out the window of the pharmacy a little while ago, I thought I saw someone looking over here from behind a tree across the street.” He paused to sneeze again. “I didn’t get a good look; I mean it was just for a second, and—” Another sneeze interrupted his tale.

“Are they still over there?” she asked, looking around for her car keys.

“No, not anymore. Like I said, maybe it was nothing, but given all the robberies…”

“Yeah. You were right to call me. What did the person look like?” Emma sat down on the edge of her desk, looking at the map again and picturing a pin in the spot where the pharmacy was.

“I didn’t get a good look.”

“Man? Woman? Short? Tall? Young? Old?”

“Man, I think. Average height. Other than that, I don’t know. I really didn’t see his face.”

She sighed. “Okay. What time do you close?”

“Six o’clock.” Emma rolled her eyes; she didn’t miss much about Boston, but she did miss stores that managed to stay open past dark.

“Okay, lock up tight and don’t leave any cash unsecured anywhere,” she told him. “Killian or I will try to keep an eye on the place tonight, in case they come back and try to break in.”

He sneezed three times in rapid succession. “Will do, Sheriff.”

Emma started to call Killian, and then stopped and looked at the time on her phone. It was almost six now, although she assumed nothing would happen before dark. She was suddenly transported back to her bail bondsperson days, when she used to sit on a stakeout in her car with nothing but a tattered sudoku book and a box of those protein bars that were really just glorified candy bars. It was often cold and always boring, but she was perversely nostalgic for it all of a sudden: a time when she could sit in her car all night and eat junk food and no one would care. No one would wonder where she was, because there was no one in her life to wonder.

She loved having people who worried about her and missed her and wanted to be at her side. It was all she had ever dreamed of as a kid. But in that moment, she felt a strange pang of longing for a time when the only person she had to answer to was herself.

Emma started to plan. If she was going to stake out the drug store, she needed a less conspicuous car than the department’s one squad car or her yellow Bug, which everyone in town knew on sight. She thought about cars she could borrow. Regina’s Mercedes and her dad’s truck were as well-known in town as her own car. Zelena’s green monstrosity would stick out like a sore thumb. She needed a boring car, the kind of car that your eyes just slid over without even seeing.

Mom’s station wagon, she thought. Perfect.

She dashed off a text to Killian: I’ve maybe got a lead on the robberies. Don’t wait up.

Not three seconds passed before he was calling her.

“I’ll join you,” Killian said by way of a greeting. “What’s the lead?”

She felt immediately churlish. “You’ve been working a lot of long hours lately; I’ve got this.”

“Don’t be silly, Swan, I’m perfectly well rested. If you think there’s a way to catch the thieves tonight, I’d like to be there to help.”

He had a point, and she knew it. There could be more than one of them, and it would help to have Killian to take them down. And yet, she couldn’t seem to stop herself from arguing. “I don’t want to pull rank on you, but I will if I have to. We can’t expect to run the sheriff’s station effectively if we’re both pulling all-nighters at the same time.”

There was a long pause. “Sounds like you’ve made up your mind.”

“I have.”

“Fine. At least promise to call me if you need help,” he said, anger evident in his voice.

“I will.”

He disconnected the call without saying goodbye. Whether that was an indication of his level of frustration or his lack of phone etiquette, she wasn’t sure.

I love you, she texted to him.

He didn’t respond, but Killian wasn’t really a texter, so that wasn’t unusual. Gathering up her belongings, Emma locked up the station, phoning her mother to warn her that she was on her way to borrow her car as she mentally made a list of the terrible junk food she wanted to buy in preparation for her stake out.

~*~

By 10:30 p.m., Emma had finished off the coffee she’d picked up from Granny’s to stay awake.

By midnight, she’d eaten two protein bars and an entire package of Sour Patch Kids, and felt a little sick to her stomach.

At 1:15 a.m., after too many games of Words with Friends with Zelena, her phone battery died. She reached for her charger, groaning when she belatedly realized she’d left it in her Bug when she switched cars with her mother. Frustrated, she threw the phone onto the passenger seat. What she wouldn’t give for a sudoku book right about now, she thought.

At 2:00 a.m., after whisper-singing to herself every pop song she could think of, she started to nod off for the first time.

At about 2:45 a.m., she started to really miss her husband.

The first indication that dawn was on its way reached her eyes sometime after 4:00. Either she’d been wrong that someone was casing the pharmacy, or she’d been wrong that they planned to hit it tonight, or they’d spotted her and gotten scared off. Regardless, her sleepless night had been a huge waste of time. Cranking the engine of Snow’s sensible station wagon, Emma headed for home, figuring she could get a couple of hours of sleep before work.

The house was dim and silent when she let herself in, and she kicked off her shoes, already thinking about how nice and warm Killian would feel when she curled up against him under the covers.

Tiptoeing into the bedroom and closing the door softly, Emma was headed for the bathroom to brush her teeth when Killian turned on his lamp. She jumped.

“I thought you were asleep,” she said, her hand over her chest.

He sat up in bed. “I was, but after I awoke a couple of hours ago and tried phoning you and you didn’t respond, I was too worried to sleep.” The muscle in his jaw spasmed, and Emma knew that he was angry.

“My phone died and I forgot my charger. I’m so sorry; I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“That was when I realized that you hadn’t even bothered to tell me where you would be. So I’ve been lying here, wondering if I should try walking all over town to try to find you, or if I should call your father and ask him to drive me around looking for you. Or maybe I could go up to the top of the clock tower and spot you that way. And I tried to weigh your frustration with me for doing any of those things against the odds that you were lying injured somewhere. Or dead.” His voice got louder and louder as he spoke, until he was almost shouting at her by the end, his tirade slightly undercut by his mussed bedhead.  

Emma swallowed around a lump in her throat. “You’re right. I was thoughtless.”

“Yes, you were.”

She sat down at his side, wondering if she should take his hand. “Can you forgive me?”

He huffed. “Emma, I love you more than anything in my life, of course I can forgive you, but I need to know why you shut me out today.”

She winced. “I just… I still sometimes get itchy, depending on people. And having people depend on me. Maybe I’ll never be completely comfortable with it, I don’t know.” Now she did reach for his hand, and was relieved when he squeezed her fingers gently.

“I watched you die, Emma,” he said, his voice raspy. She looked up from their joined hands into his eyes. “I stood in the street and watched you, my wife who I’d barely managed to have five minutes with after we exchanged vows, throw your sword aside and get impaled.”

“Hey, at least you didn’t have to do the impaling yourself like I did,” she said, trying to make a joke out of the worst moment of her life. Killian didn’t smile.

“You’ve been a beacon of light in my life, leading me out of the darkness. Two hundred years of selfishness and revenge and murder, and loving you pulled me out of that. And I can’t help but think…” He took a shaky breath and looked down at their joined hands again, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “I had a lot of time to ponder this, while that prophecy was hanging over your head. And it’s not just that losing you would be the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. It’s that I don’t think I can keep myself from becoming that man again if I lose you.”

Emma’s heart broke for him. “I think you’re wrong. I think you can. For Henry. For Mom and Dad and for everyone in this town who counts on you and looks to you as a hero. Maybe it was me who started you on the right path at first, but I don’t think it’s me that keeps you on it.” She laughed. “For one thing, I’m not that saintly a person myself.” She  scooted a little bit closer to him on the bed. “You still think of yourself as a bad man who changed. But I feel like I know you pretty well by now, and let me tell you, you’re not that. You’re a good man who spent a long time lost, and now you’ve rediscovered who you really are.”

He pursed his lips with a hint of a smile. “Perhaps.”

“We’ve both faced losing the other, and we didn’t deal with it very well.” She blew out a breath. “Me especially. But unless we get super lucky, and live to be a hundred — or in your case, four hundred or whatever,” she said with a laugh, “and die together in our sleep, someday one of us is gonna have to face life without the other.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know how. And I’m sorry; I annoyed you today because I was struggling with letting you do things on your own, and I know how independent you are—”

“I could’ve been a lot more sensitive to your fears,” she admitted, leaning over and pulling him into a hug. There was a pause, and then she felt his hand pressing hard against her back, the solid strength of his arms holding her tight.

“I thought I was over it,” he said against her shoulder. “You lived, and everything turned out fine, and almost before I could take a breath we were celebrating our slightly delayed wedding night, and I thought I was over it. But this morning, imagining you falling ill, and then when I couldn’t reach you on your phone…”

“I’m sorry.” She brushed a kiss against his cheek. “I’m really sorry.” Letting out a little hiccupping sigh, an almost-sob, Emma continued to kiss his face. “I’m not over it either,” she whispered.

He kissed her lips then, hard and forceful, a little bit sloppy in his haste. Emma crawled into his lap, their mouths meeting over and over with increasing desperation. “I love you so much,” he gasped as she writhed against him, quite suddenly so aroused that she felt like she was going to jump out of her skin if he didn’t touch her.

“I love you, too.” She spoke the words into his bare shoulder, her teeth scraping his skin. She felt the need to apologize again for making him worry, but she’d apologized enough and he’d accepted, and there was nothing else she could say now. All she could do was let their bodies take over and hope that the pleasure they could make between them would give them both a measure of comfort.

Killian moved his hand around to start unbuttoning her blouse but he was trembling, struggling to work the tiny buttons. Emma stood up from the bed, pulling her clothes off and tossing them aside quickly as Killian did the same with his pajamas. She was back on top of him in an instant, pressing as much of her skin against his as she could, bracketing his hips with her knees, her breasts crushed against his chest and his arms circling her. It felt so good to feel his body against her, warm skin and coarse hair, his calloused fingertips running down her back.

“Tell me what to do,” she said softly, combing her fingers through his hair. “What can I do to make you feel good?”

Usually he was the one asking those kinds of questions, catering to her every desire as if everything he did to her in bed wasn’t fantastic. But tonight it felt hugely important to her that she do for him.

Killian pressed his forehead against hers. “I just need you, Emma.”

Emma reached down between them, closing her fingers around his erection and stroking slowly, making him whimper. “You’re always so good to me. Let me be good to you.”

“You are, gods, so good.” His hips rose underneath her, chasing the movement of her hand.

Suddenly there was nothing she wanted more than to see him come apart like this while they held each other. Emma leaned to one side and made a grab for her bedside table drawer. Killian braced her thigh with the stump of his left wrist so that she wouldn’t fall off of the bed, and she pulled a bottle of lube out of the drawer. He watched her with hooded eyes as she squeezed a small amount of the lubricant into her palm.

When she returned to stroking him, making everything slick as she worked her hand up and down, Killian groaned, his hips matching the rhythm of her strokes. She wrapped her other arm around his back, squeezed him with her thighs, holding him close with every part of her that she could. She felt her inner muscles clenching at the sight of her husband coming undone, wanted to take him inside her and fuck him so badly, but she resisted the temptation. She needed to focus solely on his pleasure for now.

“I wanna see you come, Killian,” she said, increasing the pace of her fist, twisting it over the head of his cock with every upstroke. His eyes clamped shut, a grimace of pleasure-pain on his face. His hand went into her hair, fingers closing in the strands and pulling just enough to make her scalp tingle with the edge of pain.

“You’re mine, my love, my husband, a good man, you’re a good man.” she mumbled, hardly aware if anything she was saying was making sense, because he felt like he was close, he was so very hard in her hand and she was increasingly desperate for it, to feel that hardness slide into her body would feel so fucking amazing, but she kept stroking and he was fucking her fist, his moans increasingly out of his control.

His voice was a hoarse shout when he came, and she watched as the pearly white fluid hit her stomach, dripping down as she coaxed him through it, only letting go when she felt the spasms under her hand stop and his muscles start to relax.

Killian glanced at her from under his eyelashes, his heavy panting breath hot against her skin. He smiled shyly, before looking down at her abdomen again.

“I’ve made a mess of you,” he said, the gravel in his voice turning her on even more.

Emma rolled off of him, collapsing on her back, not cleaning herself up right away so he could look his fill. “Do you like it?” She ran a finger down between her breasts and into the wet evidence of his climax on her stomach. “Seeing me like this?”

Killian slid down and turned on his side, not taking his eyes off of her. “Aye.”

She grinned. “Keep watching.” Her hand continued its path down her body, plunging between her folds and further, two fingers slipping inside and fuck, watching him get off had made her so wet and sensitive. She pressed her palm against her clit and started a rhythm with her hand and her hips. The wet sound of her fingers pumping in and out of her reached her ears.

“You’re a vision like this, marked with my seed and desperate for more,” he said, propping himself up on his elbow. He reached out with his hand, gripping her upper thigh and pulling her legs further apart but otherwise not interfering with what she was doing.

Emma gasped out a strangled noise, shameless in the way she was moving and fucking herself and reaching for her orgasm, which she was barreling toward faster than she would’ve believed, given how incredibly intimate all of this was. Killian watching her touch herself should have been inhibiting, but it wasn’t. She wanted him to see how much she loved him and wanted him, and how just watching him had made her feel so good even when no one was touching her.

She cried out wordlessly, felt her muscles convulse in deep pulses against her fingers as she rode out her climax, her thighs drawing closer together and squeezing her hand in between. At some point she’d closed her eyes, and she felt Killian lift her hand and draw it up to his mouth, his tongue licking the wetness from her fingers. Then he pulled her limp body into his arms, hugging her close.

“Now we’re both a mess,” she said, almost giggling as their abdomens pressed together.

“I don’t give a fuck,” Killian said. He nuzzled against her cheek. “That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

Emma snorted, thinking to herself that she doubted it, given the few racy stories she’d managed to wrangle out of him about Milah, and about some of the debauchery he’d witnessed in brothels over his years as a pirate.

“I can prove it to you, love.” He kissed her chin, rutting his hips against her, and she could tell that he was already half-hard again. “Let’s go rinse off in the shower, and then I’ll fuck you until you can’t move.”

“It’s a deal,” she said, grinning. Killian started to get up, but she stopped him with a hand on his bicep. “Hey. I love you. And I love being with you, even if I sometimes don’t show it.”

He brushed his lips over hers in a soft caress. “Anytime you need to be alone for a little bit, just say the word. I’ll understand.”

“And then afterwards—”

“We come back together like this.” He hauled her leg up over his hip, grinding against her center.

Emma gasped. “Yeah, that works for me.”

CHAPTER 6

[xxbalamazxx]

Downfall Of Democracy In The West

I have said it for years now, the writing has been on the wall. Democracy is crumbling around us all. It is shattering into grains smaller than that of sand. Yet the people seem to be ok with it, blinded by their rage, their misunderstanding. Popularism seems to be the new trend, it seems to be the core of what society wants. Popularism, however, is not a system of governance. Rather it is a mere opinion or feeling, a social condemnation for anything shunned, it doesn't matter if it is right or wrong... It is easily manipulated and worse than mob rule… It is the voice of celebrity and notoriety seekers over the want and demand of the masses. It holds no gain other than that of the select few…. Often leading the suppression of one's rights for the obtaining of personal wealth…

Democracy is failing my friends, it is crumbling unto dust. For the first time, we see the vote of people being undone. The rights to privacy, the freedom of speech, the will of the people being abridged. Not to any measurement of justice, nor any measurement of will, rather for the select power acquisition of a few celebrities or corporate powers… It is crushing what once made the west great. is obliterating our system of law. Each generation has its battle, ours has been masked from us. It has been confused with civil movements, and seeking more “Rights” for the few whiles ripping them from others… While in the dark the powers that be move against us… Its time to wake the hell up. How is this occurring?? What is going on? It is simple, democracy is being subverted, the vote of the people is being overturned and not just in one country either.

Step 1: In the United States, a president comes into power, he takes his oath and is sworn into office. Within moments protest start in the streets. Riots break out all over the USA. The president came to power via the system, yet it was not good enough for the masses. For the first time in the history of the USA social media is used by those whom were denied power to disrupt the rightful process of what should have occurred. It immediately becomes normalized. The rule of law becomes undone. The Media immediately starts to report it as a resistance, encouraging for more to join in. Treason to the president, to the government, openly heralds. Yet how did this occur? I am still scratching my head trying to figure it out. While I did not oppose nor support Donald Trump in the elections (I am an independent). It is clear something is a miss, on both sides… To the left ( The Democrats) we had a woman “ Hillary Clinton” seeking power. Openly she commits over 300,000 acts of treason to the USA. Enough to have had her shot before a firing squad. Yet the FBI covers for her. Witnesses “Mysteriously” hang themselves the night before testifying before Congress. Openly her people call for revolt, open violence against the government as she lost the election. She accuses the system of being corrupt, rigged… Yet the system was good enough to get her bigoted husband Bill Clinton into power… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ULl41fNBLA To the other side, President Donald Trump begins to undo years worth of bills that were put into place to help those whom needed help. Overnight corporate power grows, the richer become richer and the poorer becomes poorer. Each side blames each other… Yet they seem to be working together to divide the population and conquer. After all, all bills that are passed by Trump help the Clinton's, and all actions Hillary openly declares, adds more fuel to trumps fire… One sits in the literal office, while the other controls the nation and its media through popular control... Using social media to challenge every bill the president passes, criticizing his actions until the country is divided… Openly weak, openly fractured to all that dare looks towards it… Over the next term, for the first time, singular un-elected groups have sway over the government, policy and more importantly the people…. Step 2: In the United Kingdom the people go to the vote as the largest exercise of democracy takes place in a referendum to leave or stay in the EU “Brexit”. With in the first few months of the exercise, the Media begins to report that Brexit will fail. They push with all their might to sway the people. For the first time openly the Media in the UK begins to attempt to sway the people in another Popular exercise of control. They parade celebrities on T.V, they condemn anyone that would oppose their view as “insane” “unstable” and “racist”, even in some cases calling for violence… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VSBAYP-BKbg Yet as the voting day draws near like the election in the USA something unexpected occurs. Instead of following the popular opinion of celebrities and the press, the people vote to leave the EU. Overnight the news, the media and the government begin to insult and punish the people… For the first time, direct cuts are targeted against the poor in a cruel retaliation. The government attempts to drop benefits on the lowest of the poor that would see them impoverished to destitution. This, however, was blocked by the House of Lords. Yet to subvert even the most basic checks and balances, the government then brings universal credits to implement the cuts. The Bank Of England increase mortgage rates to apply pressure to the Nation. Guilds and Large corporations raise the prices of food and what the people now deemed Project fear begins… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pJRQO50VTKU Un Investigates Uk Poverty With already obscenely high taxes, increases in food& basic's pricing. The threat of the loss of jobs and an economy deliberately destabilized by the unhappy elite the government of the united kingdom announces an apocalyptic view of a post Brexit environment. Immediately a repeat of the USA drama plays out on the world stage. To the left the “ Labour” they openly condemn Brexit, demanding a re-vote. ( Similar to Hillary Clinton in the USA election.) They accuse the government of being corrupt tyrannical, all while voting up bills that harm the population. Jeremy Corbin calls for resistance condemning the Tories... Openly a Popular plot is launched. Every attempt to negotiate a deal with Europe is trampled by the Labour Party. They subvert the mass vote by going to the courts, calling on the queen, and even going to the house of lords ( which labor has condemned as being unelected officials each time they don't agree in their favor). In the past two years, the Prime Minster changes hands not once but two times. From David Cameron to Theresa May. From Theresa May to now Boris Johnson. Much like the despicable acts in the USA, each leader is deemed Tyrannical, Racist, bigoted, and downright nasty by the populist elite. They are targeted, discredited and driven from office… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qkgWsJPA_B8 Jeremy Corbyn once again tries to change Prime Minister Now three times Democracy has been directly subverted in the courts of the United Kingdom. Each time by a private citizen using the supreme court to overrule actions, suing for openings of parliament. And abusing the democratic process. While I hold no opinion as a Resident of the UK and Not a citizen. The People voted, yet subversion of the vote is blatant. The Entire government works against the will of the people… And I wished, I truly do that it just ended there, but it does not. Step 3: In France, the people riot as their rights are being trampled over. The minimum wage is not enough to live on. Yellowjackets ( workers) take to the streets in protest. In a direct statement of defiance, the government condemns them as unlawful, even terrorist and begin using the military. Chemical weapons are deployed to suppress the movement. In the United Kingdom, the movement spreads and to Holland and Germany, each countries government follows suit… Condemnation erupts, the will of the people is openly oppressed… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aw-9o0GXrns It does not seem to matter where you are in the west at the moment, laws violating privacy have become commonplace, with little retaliation from the population, other than “ If you have nothing to hide you have nothing to fear!”. Yet our forefathers, mothers, brothers, sisters and uncles died for that right to privacy… They died for the right to be at peace… Even worse the freedom of speech and that of the press now goes silenced… Due to popularism, social media pressure and a new generation who do not understand the importance of the right to say a word. The freedom of speech is being slowly oppressed. In the United Kingdom and all of the EU you can be arrested for saying the wrong word, and serve years. Even in the USA now due to social media pressure ( Most of it not even being of western descent.) The rights of the singular person are now trampled on for what is often mislead ideals of the larger sum. The mere words uttered of “ That Offends Me” Are grounds to summon the law… This is what our governments have wanted for a while. An excuse to silence all that oppose them. With offense everywhere and arguments such as Corporate rights, company rights, governmental rights. You can be deemed a sense offender at any time… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TnIQalprvR8 From fear-mongering & stripping away rights. To open full-blown governmental rebellion, to that of party politics committing both mass conspiracy and downright treason. Democracy is openly and utterly being subverted at its core. Yet the people seemed to be more concerned by who is offending whom. They seem to be more concerned by someone's right to use whatever bathroom they want to, over the rights that will be left for their children and grandchildren. The reality of things is that it's becoming Orwell's 1984. The people ignore the facts, suffering has erupted on a global scale due to the great division of western nations. Children starve, innocent women and men are detained for merely uttering their desires to have what many of us would so easily give up. In just and Inhuman wars are being ignored without western intervention. Yet it is our duty, our mandate to secure and protect the people of all nations. Not just the ones that are white of skin or western in idealism. But all nations in which a people want to be free… Yet the word of a Russian condemning US or EU forces actions is so easily repeated by our children that are already out of control. The violence spreads through our streets as foreign agents subject the minds of our people with dissidents, simply by using an account on Facebook that says Alabama on its location… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6QoTHQV0Dts Sinister forces are implementing plans that are dividing the west while the east unifies. During this process of the last four years Russia, China and Iran have formed a coalition that has thrived off western division. Yet internally nothing is done about it, the people forget that it is through the actions of previous generations that we have lived good lives. That it is was through their sacrifice that we obtained wealth. Yet now the people wag their finger at every success the west has had. They trust in foreign conspiracies than the words of our men and women that were there… It is as if they are looking for a reason to betray, any reason what so ever. We simply stare at our phones and condemn anyone that would speak up against it… As if we are already occupied. Dictators have arisen to the world stage, yet the west continues to focus on which is the best YouTuber while Russia veto’s every and all action to help those in need. For anyone who speaks up about this tyranny, Russia needs not do a thing, for it is commonplace for children and Internet trolls to recite law and give up all morality or virtue… Chemical weapons are used on UK soil by Russian agents, that is backed by Dutch chemists who prove the compound. The people scream “ Leave Russia alone” as if they had done nothing wrong, yet victims lay dead. It is as if some mental illness has taken hold. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hZf8FwIPAuc Ukraine has an entire province annexed after being threatened by Russia for years. We, their allies abandon them due to the calls of communists in our streets. Russia uses an excuse that there are Russians their so they have the right to take the land by force… Yet in the defense of Ukraine, the law does not apply? Again our people remain silent and do nothing. Three years after Russia uses its hold on the region to choke trade ships and bully the international stage… Russia openly admits to interfering in elections all over the world. It admits to global espionage, yet the modern population sticks its nose up. The only time that matters is when their populist leaders make a point of it. The fact that this level of espionage is back indicating that the west is again on the brink of another cold war… Yet instead of acting, instead of stripping an international threat back down to size… The social influence, the populist elite rather wait until the threat becomes all too real… Until we are again at full-blown war… Because to do nothing today will make them a few more bucks, and it is not their children who will die tomorrow… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PHzwMLx-rKc Elected officials in all offices are being run out of power by the minority view votes, well not votes, rather demand made from the sum of losing parties. In the USA the democrats accuse men and women of rape, incest, bigotry and acts of legal violations to grip hold. While in the UK similar processes are occurring. Each is a subversion of the will of the masses. It is as if someone wrote a bad play and we no longer care as we are fixated on celebrities, drama, and perceived special rights for said groups… It is as if not being offensive is more important then protecting our rights and thus protecting our children, our grand children's and their children. For if we are the generation that does nothing… It is us to blame for when they have nothing. How long will this last? How long till we no longer can call ourselves democracies? How long till our old enemies march to our doorstep? How long till we see that the ancient old trick of Divide and conquer is being used upon us today... Rather it is by sinister forces in our governments such as Jeremy Corbin, a known communist, and socialist sympathizer. Or Hillary Clinton who openly committed treason by releasing classified secrets. And perhaps the President of the USA whom is believed to have colluded with Vladimir Putin himself. Or that of foreign powers growing by the day. How long till we wake up? When is it too late to stand up for the rights and ways that our forefathers and mothers fought for? How long till we lose our democracy completely? Will it take another Pearl Harbour for you to finally see? Read the full article