#Like the monitor head! It's all good! All of it!! He's a strong aesthetic man <3 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

worldsover · 3 years

Text

Judgement to the Desiccated ft. Karina

length ✦ 5573

genres ✧ sm type future; asphyxiation; blackmail; virtual_servant!Karina;

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Air did a poor job of not being polluted so Lee Soo Man flooded the world instead. The man himself certainly must be long gone and could not have been in charge of that decision but the legacy of his company far exceeds the legacy of any other human collective in history. Once on this planet, gas was the fluid of choice for respiration and breathing was an unconscious reflex. Now there’s Aether by SM. How very on-brand of them to have the liquid air you breathe follow perfume naming conventions.

Open your eyes and exit the sleeping chamber. Aether has you work for each inhalation, it desaturates the color of the bedroom—maybe there’s a subtle but uncomfortable tinge of yellow—and it makes your nose itch. Your muscles wield much less force than they used to because of the lack of resistance the fluid provides. Moreover, it smells like hairspray as though the ozone layer is taking sardonic revenge.

Screens impersonating windows track your eyes to ensure realistic parallax, playing the scene of divine blue heavens that could not exist. An azure sky is a reward for those planets that have an atmosphere and a sun for light to scatter. Your walls are either chrome or drywall white and your whole bedroom is plainly decorated just like the day you moved in.

“Etymology of bedroom,” you think out loud, though it falls on no ears.

“Bedroom is a compound noun consisting of bed and room. Bed goes back to Old English bedd ‘sleeping place, plot of ground prepared for plants,’ which goes back to the Germanic-”

Plants and sleep are both strong words to use nowadays. The former doesn’t exist in nature and it seems you’re the only one who bothers with the latter. Faint buzzing distracts you from the AI’s response and signals you to the nano drones that swim throughout the liquid to process carbon dioxide from your lungs. This whole ordeal could’ve been much worse if you didn’t have brain interfaces doing the hard part of controlling your diaphragm. The most you need is a purposeful thought. Still, it gets tiring having to think the same thought every three seconds. In. Out.

Was the metaphorical Soo Man teaching a lesson in perseverance? You love K-pop and imagine it’s how trainees used to practice dancing, singing, being charismatic. Being an idol had to be as natural as breathing air. Inhale and exhale. Right now with any antiquated programming language you clung on to, you could write a single for loop that did the same job. For every three seconds: breathe in, breathe out.

“What’s for breakfast today?” Not loud enough. “What’s for breakfast?” you think it louder.

“Welcome, master. Ae-Karina is ready for service.” It’s quite a kindness for SM to blur the bland dystopia you live in by augmenting reality through your neural device. A bosomy woman in a gold-lined but otherwise modest maid outfit appears from the corner of your eye and she bows. Ae-Karina is bewitching and almost becoming of her basis as its graphics have gradually upgraded over the rotations but you wouldn’t misconstrue the avatar as human.

“I said, what’s for breakfast!” It feels impolite to scream in your head, there’s other residents there, but finally the fridge lights up.

“Of course master. May I remind you eating is unnecessary?”

In. Out. Every day, she does remind you, yes. How kind of the company to put all your nutritional requirements in the new air. Aether goes in then Aether goes out. You wish the thoughts of breathing could fade into the background but they’re just like your cravings for food. Always hungry but never starving, whole though not once satisfied. Your eyes pause at her gorgeous face and she tells you there’s bacon. Take it from your fridge. Bacon goes in. Well, the drones take care of the out.

Your assigned living space is the entire 207th floor of a tower. Two hundred and seven floors below the surface. The neighbor a few floors upstairs says that he thinks living deeper is a sign of status. What a luxury. That guy should check the status of his facial muscles, maybe improve his code that lets him tell lies while he’s at it. A couple hundred flights of stairs to swim up is a useless skeuomorphism of skyscrapers in the days of the sun. In fact they were more than useless, you would've preferred a single vertical hallway as it would have let you propel upwards unimpeded. Each floor is the exact same, a glass door that affords no privacy for its residence, a false tree on each side. At the upper levels, malls, convenience stores and other gaudy retail, but it’s the gyms that mock you that you mock in return. They’re always empty.

Finally reaching the top is no true break even if it is a change in scenery. Inhale. Aether tastes a little different up here. Exhale. Can’t say you like it.

Countless satellites form a parody of the star from which the planet flew away, the false image refracted by the upper boundary of Aether. They can’t take away your memories of this star. Looking up at the sky once blinded you with ultraviolet radiation, burning your cornea. It was beautiful. Now everyone’s decided that if they’re playing the part of corporate dystopia, they might as well fit the aesthetic. In a way, it’s self-fulfilling. They wouldn’t have chosen a neon pink sun to compliment the blue and metallic gloom of the cityscape if it weren’t so ingrained in popular media already.

Still, you would’ve expected Google or Walmart to become the megacorp responsible for the state of the world, not a Korean entertainment company. Must’ve been quite the red paperclip scenario. Instead of material design or utilitarian architecture, tacky artistic structures line the streets. The same advertisements for albums that they’ve been selling for the past however long. It's all so obvious, the city could've been designed from scratch to accommodate new forms of travel and goddamn liquid air but instead they went with futuristic Tokyo.

Dubstep permeates your inner ear implants. A notification informs your thoughts that it’s “Hip-hop EDM dance pop with a strong jungle house groove and urban influences.” It’s dubstep. Liquid carries barely any sound so SM affords the option for implants if you're nostalgic for one of the senses. Even though it’s a slower form of communication than direct neural transfer, the noise comforts you. Of course the company would choose dubstep as their background music, but maybe they make money off refunds somehow. It switches to Ice Cream Cake. Much better.

You walk the not so busy roads towards a short brick warehouse in the distance and heavy rain soaks your clothes. No such thing as weather without the sun and water but it’s all simulated anyway.

A warm Seulgi adlib and you know it’s Psycho that starts playing. No, none of your senses are real. The most you could trust is your vision but even that’s being lied to. You could be living in a vat and fed all these thoughts, but then why make it so mediocre? Not paradise, nor torture but a lukewarm in-between. Guess that's what happens when SM Entertainment manages the post-apocalypse. Good on them for trying. The alternative would be a frozen hellscape without solar radiation. Can’t deny their work with geothermal and nuclear energy to keep the Aether warm so that you didn’t have to live underground for the rest of human history. It’s quite great PR to save humanity.

“Hey now, we’ll be okay,” repeats a few more times than you remember.

The Idea Factory Alpha White Delta Green says the neon tubes lighting the front of the brick and mortar building. Your ID card bears a name but it’s not yours, not until they approve your name change. Those usually get processed faster with how often people liked changing their names.

Sit at a desk with a sterile white keyboard and slick new monitor. Type and empty words appear on the screen: “Think for the many, not for the one. We need to think ahead.” A thumbs up. The company appreciates the input. That’s probably enough work for one day. Some SNSD live stages help the time pass, SM certainly appreciated the streaming numbers and it would net you some social points.

It’s hard to say what comes to mind when they ask you to envision a world without the sun and air, especially since it’s what you’ve known for... Two hundred years? There’s no frame of reference, that much you can tell from when you counted seconds to see how often the satellites completed their orbit. SM really took time to have them propel at random speeds, they love withholding sensitive information like that from citizens. To be fair, time is sensitive. Guess the meaning of that phrase changes like all parts of language.

Look around. Dozens of employees at identical workspaces all try to answer the same questions. Naturally, there’s no need for manual labor anymore but there will never be a replacement for human ingenuity. Nice slogan but you know you’re only here for data. Can’t see a need for customer retention though—what’s the alternative, skip Earth? See you on another planet?

“Hey bro, you come up with anything new?” Dave says. Two desks away, you see the enthusiastic, surprisingly spry man play around with a Newton’s cradle. The balls at each end bounce back and forth, not slowing down their rhythm any time soon.

“I think I got something,” you say, “Earth is not the answer. It can’t be, long term.”

“Ooh, I like that. Actually, I really like that.”

“What are you gonna do, copy me?”

“Of course not. You know how much SM hates plagiarism.” Click. Clack.

“Ha. As if there’s a single original thought left in the world.” Click. Clack. The imaginary sounds of metal spheres bouncing play in your mind. They got the volume wrong, no way it’d sound that loud from that distance. “You’d think with all their resources, they’d have figured out space travel by now.”

“I don’t think they want to leave, bro. Wouldn’t be great for profits.”

Your mouth opens to laugh and causes laugh8942.mp3 to play in Dave’s head. “I love it. SM probably hates that sass too,” you say.

“Oh no, they’re gonna arrest me for thoughtcrimes. Nah, they love creativity, just when it suits them. Also, if they actually did bust you for wrongthink like rumors say, I wouldn’t have this on me.” Dave twirls a finger and points at you and you thank his absurd flair for the histrionic that keeps you amused with such drab work.

“NewDrug.mp6. Would you like to play it?” the dry system voice notifies you.

“Woah woah there tiger, hold on.” Dave must’ve noticed your intrigued eyes and holds his hands up. “You might wanna experience that at home. But if you’re interested in more, ask for chicken parm at the vegan place. You know the one.”

Dave leaves his desk. He doesn’t return. You finish your work. Inspire. Expire. You’d rather not.

In contrast to your commute to work, the roads fill with others on your way home. You have to know. Take solace in the comfort of a bench where a huge McDonald’s arch bathes the surroundings and its people with a yellow glow. Really shouldn’t watch it now, especially if Dave says it’s a home type of watch but you have to know. A family of five watches you pass out. They, along with every other passerby, ignore your still body draped over the chrome outdoor seating as you look like yet another junkie. The title is correct after a fashion, the simulation is some sort of new drug. The details of the exploits that happen in the immersive replay wash over you but you don’t need them to know that it’s the sort of lewd that SM would not allow—at least not publicly and not without the right exorbitant payment.

Suit pants and underwear go straight to the laundry. That must’ve been an embarrassing sight but no one bothered to stop you, so it doesn’t matter. Look up where this vegan place was that Dave so presumptuously assumed you knew about and you find that it’s about four Avengers’ stores down from work. He must’ve eaten there before.

“Yo Dave, just wanna make sure, what’s the name of the vegan place called?”

“What are you talking about, man? You telling me there’s some secret underground farms that SM wouldn’t know about?”

You can’t tell when you got to work, a lack of standardized timing would help as well the haze of living in a monotonous dark. “Nah, I mean, for the-”

“I have no idea,” Dave emphasizes each word, “what you’re talking about.”

“I see.”

Work flies by, unusually.

“Hey, can I get a chicken-”

“Uh, this is Maron’s Veggies Only, it clearly says on the sign.”

Clear your throat. “Parm.”

The shifty part-time worker looks around and rubs his fingers gesturing for money. “No digital.”

Over the counter, you pass him a gold coin stamped with a holographic 1 and he hands you a USB stick and a laptop in return. How old-fashioned.

“It’ll sync with whoever you have set as your avatar experience aspect,” the worker says.

“Thanks.”

Ever vigilant as the patrol is, the alleys are the last place you want to go to hide with the obvious criminal element within them all but you head to one anyway. Dump the anachronistic technology in your storage pocket dimensions. Looking at its contents, you’d have to clean that mess up later, but the more you look like an average slob the better. The biggest problem with the inventories is all the people squatting in them. Inspectors wouldn’t care about the archaic ruins you left in yours.

“Welcome, master. Ae-Karina is ready to service.”

“I’d like to go on a date. A special date.” You highlight the key word special and sit on your living room couch. No one’s going to look in your glass door and regardless, you wouldn’t be the pervert for glimpsing into someone’s home.

“Ah yes, master. Ae-Karina is ready to fully service,” she says with a provocative tint in her tone, her sclera disperses to black to match. A pole drops from the ceiling while parts of her maid outfit dissolve which reveals more of the silky skin of her thighs, her lissom arms and most importantly her overflowing breasts. Ae-Karina wraps her legs around the pole and spins around, teasing fingers trace curves on her body to harden you. Her dance is precise but sultry regardless. She pulls up her short skirt to flaunt more of her ass beneath white panties and then pulls down to flourish her cleavage, not trapped by a bra. “Are you enjoying your maid’s show?”

“Very much so, yes,” you say.

Half of a smile forms before a glitch occurs and she teleports next to you, fully nude. It doesn’t pull you out of the illusion however. You just stare and drink in the splendor of her created body.

“You’re not going to touch?” Ae-Karina says.

A feel of her tits and you find it softer than pillows you used to rest on. Soft isn’t much of a character that exists anymore when the whole world is engulfed in liquid. No one has beds, especially with the rarity of sleep. Therefore, her mounds are a consummate dedication to the texture as you squeeze and pinch at her cute nipples.

Her maid outfit rematerializes as she straddles you. It provides more friction to your pants as she begins her lap dance. The weight of her body dragging across your legs and clothed erection induces your carnal impulses further. If only you could fuck the virtual idol. You have to make do with the imprint of her pussy lips on your bulge sliding up and down. Breath in. Breath out.

Ae-Karina pulls down your boxers and spits on your erection. It's not real but her hands so slick on your cock and you let reality slip. Real is for the past, you have desires gratified in the present. There is no real person nibbling at your neck but your nerves activate in sexual desire without discernment for truth. No, she doesn't love you, but when the voracious mass of ones and zeroes says it loves its master, you say it back.

"I love you."

ILOVEYOU infected ten million computers in 2000. An explosion. Calibration engaging. It’s 1:21 PM, Sunday, July 18, 2286 and hypothetically the sun would be out in its full rage. At this latitude and longitude, you’re at what was once the epicenter of all—Seoul, where a fountain caused a chain reaction allowing the hopeful remnant of a world to exist. It lasted a surprisingly long time without the sun and without Aether but the dying planet would succumb inevitably to the ever-increasing contamination so SM of all corporations took charge. A different kind of chain reaction occurred when they acquired a restaurant chain that discovered the recipe for liquid air. The law is on its way and prepared to punish you to its full extent.

You reel while your ears ring. An even sexier version of the woman you already fantasized about appears from your peripheral vision in the crater of your floor. A skimpy cop outfit, striated with reflective material that seems to wane black at different angles, outlines Karina’s curves. She has a tool belt with absurd gadgets, such as a knife baton hybrid, a taser combined with a spray bottle and a Tamagotchi. None of this is necessary. They could just immediately arrest you, impose limitations on your devices. Sure, SM cloned people to deal with underpopulation, but why Karina would be the enforcer is a whole nother issue. Maybe the entertainment company loves their irony?

“Halt. You’re under arrest. Any resistance will be penalized according to the combined Terms of Service of all SM and SM associated products.”

Fucked anyway, you figure you might as well go for it. Escape into your inventory and only seconds later you’re forced out. You manage to get what you need regardless.

“Violation of access rights will be charged to your account.”

It’s so obvious but there’s a reason you kept so much gold in physical storage. As you swim away, the sides of your apartment start to bubble. Bubbles? Already, your limbs feel unsteady. Something’s wrong in the Aether.

“This is standard procedure for escaping suspects that are indoors. Again, this is all agreed to under the Terms of Service.”

“When the fuck did I ever click accept to that shit?”

“When you were born in this world and decided you want to stay in it,” Karina says out loud. You hear her say it. Your physical ears process the vibrations in the air that come from her mouth. Gravity thwarts your desperate escape as your limp body floats on the limit between liquid and air. The atrophy of your muscles becomes apparent within the gaseous atmosphere. She watches you sink down as the room drains of all the false air though her eyebrows crease when she inspects you closer. Your breaths are involuntary. Despite your muscles shorting out, the force of gravity and the pressure of the gas bearing down on you, you’re breathing and you don’t mean to. Her eyes wander farther down. On your pants, a concrete rod stamps the fabric.

“Oh, you like what you see?”

“Shut up, criminal. Anything you say can and will be used against you.”

“Your pussy,” you say and she scoffs.

“Original.” Karina bites her lip as your erection continues to grow behind its prison. You use all effort to put your hands up.

“Please, miss Karina. I’ve been bad.”

“I could punish you even more for sexual assault.”

“Then do it.”

Heat radiates the room in a way you haven’t felt in a while and droplets of sweat form on each of your bodies, especially on the thighs that her revealing outfit parades. Her facial features contort in deliberation and the wait kills you. You bat your eyes at her before Karina takes off her tight shorts and drops herself into your anticipatory face. This makes no sense but none of this life made any sense so you decide to go with the tides.

Centuries of training your respiration has led to this moment, but when you finally have real air to breathe, you spit at the opportunity and choose to suffocate. Then you spit at her pussy and lap it up. Karina’s nectar transfixes your olfactory glands, for once a smell that isn’t the sterile Aether. Your eyes are mesmerized in parallel because of the perfect design of her pussy, a single crease that leads into her hole that your tongue emphatically explores. Karina spreads her thighs wide to reveal a small nub that craves attention. So give it. Suck and swirl and flick your tongue, and the woman provides you the tight clench of her legs as a gift. And the sounds, rediscovered glorious noise. Loud, almost too loud, and clear is how they assault your ears, even surrounded by the flesh of her thighs. Muffled by the weight of her legs, you hear Karina moan in approval but she’s still clearly in charge with how she chokes you with her legs. This is not about your pleasure but hers, and any satisfaction that you derive is not only incidental but probably punishable by SM copyright law.

Karina squirms her hips subtly on your mouth. Her eyes are sharp and she’s just about to stop your hands from moving but she notices them clasp together.

“I’ll do anything to make you cum, please.” you say sloppily as her pussy juices fill your cheeks and drip down your chin.

“God. I can’t.” She takes deep, contemplative breaths. ”That’s more time added on for inappropriate behavior.” Her groaning and brief squeals make her words sound incogent.

You give her a concluding lick and a kiss on her slit. “So what have you been doing right now then?”

Point to a corner of the room and a subtle red light indicates a recording camera. At once, she pulls out a hose from a pocket that could not fit it and the vacuum submerges the room with noise. Her expression shifts quickly to serious.

“We don’t play games here in SMTOWN unless it’s SuperStar so don’t fuck with me.”

“Look who's trying to be a comedian. How about you fuck with me any further and the video gets released.”

“That’s funny, you think you have any sort of power-”

“Yoo Jimin, I suggest you don’t push me more.”

“Where do you know that name from? Right now.” She weighs herself down on your neck.

“You think I don’t have contingencies for if I die too? Karina, we can make this a win-win scenario. We both get to cum, we both get to walk away unscathed.”

“Fuck you.”

Your weak arms wander between her thighs. At any moment, a feeble punch towards your face or another ten seconds of asphyxiation and she could call your bluff. Even if you did have the ability to expose her perversions in any way, there would be no permanent recourse, not as long SM was in charge. So it surprises you when Karina takes off her shorts.

“Goddammit. Your cock just looks too good. And your mouth, how are you so good with it?” Put up five fingers when she motions to remove her top as well, and instead she opts to take off your clothes, seizing your pants and throwing them to join the rubble in the room.

A finger slips in, then two and a third dares. Her flawlessly architected pussy lips clings to your digits and Karina shudders in reply. You explore her wetness and find it’s smooth to the point of having no faults, but her juice inside is gloppy and causes your fingers to stick more than the liquids she spills from her slit.

“Who said you’re allowed to have more?”

You lap up the nectar on your fingers. “Then why’d they make you taste so good?”

Your thumb teases her sweet tight asshole and puts just the slightest amount of pressure on it while you finger her with more intensity. The mass of her butt burdens your torso the closer she gets to orgasm. Her eyelids squeeze close and you see her body ripple in anxious pleasure. Karina shows off her pearly whites, teetering on the cliff of hysteria.

“Yes, yes! I’m so close,” she screams.

"Not yet."

“Fuck." Karina sobs, "God. Damn, fuck I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Just fuck me.”

“My pleasure,” you say. There’s no need for you to grab her since she brings herself down to your groin, which you’re thankful for as your arms are as good as jelly now. Fortunately, your cock throbs as hard as ever while Karina’s slit rests on it.

“Say you’ll delete it all, all the evidence, promise me.”

“You’re gonna fuck me first or what?” Your breath hitches while she makes a strangled noise as her velvety walls swallow your cock whole to leave no room for comfort. Her tightness is stifling and you have to start counting just to breathe again.

“One two-”

“Be quiet.”

But there is no quiet when pleas for your cooperation intersperse her excessive profanities when she seats herself into your cock and ricochets up and down. Sweat emanates from her creamy skin while her legs widen to find a better angle for her supporting knees in her cowgirl position. Grapefruit and other citrus mingle with the scent of the sweat, fruits you haven’t seen except on billboards in music videos. As much as your mind crackles and your blood roars for every atmosphere of pressure Karina’s walls provide on each thrust in and out, you can’t help but reminisce on sweeter, more innocent times.

The white fluorescent lights in your apartment sputter. For all the advancements in technology, some among many things never change. Light refracts differently in air, less bright, but you can see the pure enjoyment on Karina’s face no matter the luminescence. Karina slows her ride to pull her hips down harder instead and she jolts when your cock finds the most tender spots inside her pussy and it interrupts her babbling.

Karina almost hyperventilates when she gets up to spit on your cock. She pulls out some kind of meter from her tool belt and sighs when there’s no beeping and you recognize it having to do with carbon dioxide. She gets back to dribbling saliva and the filament trailing down to your shaft mesmerizes you. This spit is real, not simulated, and it wettens your erection in a mix with her pussy juices to paralyze you further in your already listless state. Her bare thighs jiggle and you can’t exert much force with your hands but her buttcheeks are firm with just a bit of give.

“Thank you for this cock, thank you for being bad,” Karina says as you watch her ass sink deeper while her pussy holds your dick taut. She’s frenetic when bounces up and down to play an unadulterated orchestra of slick noises between your groins.

“You’re welcome,” you accomplish getting out the words between planned breaths. Your hands cup her buttcheeks but you fear they may break with how she strikes her ass into you.

Karina turns around once more to give you the spectacle of her facial expressions as she fucks herself into you. Knead her calves laying on your torso and they take no energy to spread them though she brings them back together, compressing your hard shaft within her pussy. A new game you play with her, a separate rhythm of loosening and tightening. Her feet press on your chest to help her bounce, but the way they bear down on your lungs against the timing of your breathing causes you to fumble. Your cock bends straight forward as she plunges herself into you and it sends prickles to your entire skin, making the new angle difficult but worth it. Karina takes your hand and starts sucking on your fingers.

“You want my promise that bad?” you say.

“Yes, as bad as I want your cum. I swear, I need it.”

She draws her knees up to her torso and hugs her legs to keep thighs as tight together as possible. Karina couldn’t keep her word, she was trying to kill your cock with constriction.

“Fuck, your pussy is so fucking tight. God, Karina, fuck. You’re so good.” Even if good isn’t the word you want to use to describe her.

“Do it, please, please. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, baby. Karina can be a good girl, a good maid, a good cop, whatever you want. Just don’t get me in trouble, please.”

Karina’s mouth stops saying words though her lips writhe, drunk in increasing lust. Her cheeks flush, before the rest of her skin joins in redness while she grapples your chest and whatever spare limb she can find. You still struggle wresting control of your body but nature seems to take over when you drive yourself into her and match her needy cadence. The air in the room is replaced by a new air but it isn’t Aether. Passion, sweat, heat and all fluids that you both exude join squelching sounds, slaps and moans in harmonic bliss when her body tenses and she screams. As her body tightens, her pussy especially holds your cock for dear life and endeavours to wring out all your semen as her wetness throbs and spills. Karina starts counting to three repeatedly and you laugh though your amusement quickly subsides when you feel her juices become more viscous and she continues her ride, even in the dying pulses of her climax.

“Was I good?” Karina asks.

Just a moment goes by before you mentally send her a screenshot of all the recordings being deleted. Karina hasn’t stopped fucking you yet so at least it wasn’t a ploy.

“Thank you, thank you, I love you.” The flexion of her pliant legs brings them all the way back to rest on top of your legs. Karina lays prone above you and finally give you a kiss. The citrusy flavor may be closer to lime than grapefruit but it’s been so long that you can’t remember which scent is which. Lips crash and her tongue lashes out at yours trying to establish dominance. Keep still to let her investigate your mouth while her pussy does the same to your shaft.

You savor the way Karina’s top emphasizes the bouncing of her tits synchronous with the rebounding of her waist on your cock, but your mouth waters when she frees them. Take the shortest moment to relish in the sight before Karina smothers you with her plump globes. You wriggle your face to try to breathe. Inhale, up and exhale, down, but all you inhale is the scent of her orbs’ sweat. Her hips undulate with a pace at least double yours breathing and the echoes of slapping flesh resonate throughout the air-filled chamber. The loudness is unlike any you’ve experienced in a long time. It’s almost a flashbang every time her ass slams into your lap, especially as you start to see white when orgasm threatens to overload you with preludial pulses.

The last words you hear infected ten million computers in 2000. Fade to black. Cut. You’re slammed out of existence back into existence as a sun rebirths both within you, heating your core to a dangerous high, and from your eyes, dazzling you in an unforgiving white light. In the throes of unconsciousness relapsing to consciousness back to tenebrosity, your streaks of semen suspend in the Aether like a dead tree resting from the wind. What flashes your mind in its orgasmic state are two things only you would remember, plants and weather. Your hyperventilation is unconscious but not unwelcome, as it’s the first time in a while your breaths were reflexive even in the liquid air. However, basking in your newfound power, you start to choke. Right. You breathe in and out again. In and out. In. Out. In. Out. Back in.

“Replaying KarinaArrestsYou.mp6.” A hint of vexatious glee in the system’s otherwise dry voice. You don’t stop for it.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

It’s pretty silly but the idea danced around in my head ever since I saw the absolute Black Mirror concept that SM had for aespa and I concur that Karina is insanely hot.

As I’m writing this, this Kurzgesagt video on the idea of a rogue Earth comes out and now I have to rewrite stuff to make it at least a little consistent. I’m obviously already going nuts with all these ridiculous sci-fi concepts but this video almost feels too targeted to me writing this for me to ignore it.

#kpop smut #aespa smut #male reader #reader insert #title tracks

420 notes · View notes

eclecticstarlightconnoisseur · 3 years

Text

EDINBURGH TO BOSTON - CHAPTER 21 - SECRETS AND TRUTHS

Hello all, Finally the new chapter of Edinburgh to Boston is ready.

As I said in my update this has not been betaed. Therefore, any mistakes. lack of continuity or general mess-ups are all mine. I hope you will forgive me and overlook them. It took some re-writing when I read it over several times and I hope I caught all the mistakes.

This has been my baby for a long time and honestly, I think that was another reason that took so long to finish it as this is the last chapter. There will be an epilogue to clean up some things that are hanging around.

Just because this is the last chapter, does not mean this is the end. I can't really let go of these two people. They are so dear to my heart. Besides that, as I wrote this I realized that I did not totally address the opening premise that I made. If you recall I said that Fate and Destiny had their hands in seeing these two come together. There are other stories to tell about how such forces brought them together. I do plan a Part II but how I will do it has yet to be planned out.

I can't thank you all enough for being patient with me during times of difficulty when it took so long to get a chapter posted. I am so honored that so many of you liked this story which I honestly thought was going to fall flat on its face. I never dreamed I would get the response to it that I did. I thank you all for reading, commenting, giving the story some love. I am truly overwhelmed by your kindness.

As always I need to thank my betas who helped me along the way and gave me the encouragement to continue when I didn't think I could do it. @scubalass you're the best.

Without further ado and a tear in my eye, I give you Chapter 21 Edinburgh to Boston.

Edinburgh to Boston

Chapter 21

Secrets and Truths

“Come On! Come On! COME ON!” Claire groused at the tardy lift. It really wouldn’t do to be late for surgery on her first day back to work. She wanted to give the damn thing a good kick but thought better of it since she would be standing for most of the day. The idea of standing on a sore foot did not appeal to her.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, what is taking this thing so long? For a new building, you would think they would have installed a better lift system.” Finally, the doors slid open on the fifth floor where the cardiothoracic surgery department offices were located.

She ran down the corridor trying to free herself from her coat while hanging onto the bag containing her morning fix.

Claire ran through the building’s front door shouting a greeting to Eddie, the security guard on duty. She made a beeline for the Cafe to get her morning coffee before going up to her office. It would be a long and trying day and the caffeine jolt would serve as her means of survival.

Niall stood behind the counter and grinned at her. “Late Dr. B?”

“Whatever made you think so?” she replied rather dryly. Her face was flushed and her hair exploded out from her wooly cap.

“Just a wild guess,” he smirked.

“Humph!” she snarled. “I would love to stand and chat with you but I have surgery in an hour. I’ll have a…”

“Here it is Dr. B. Large black coffee with one sugar and a raisin scone.” Niall smiled showing her the takeaway bag with her name on it.

She looked flustered, “How did you…”

“Dr. Fraser came by earlier. He ordered for you thinking you might be...um, in a hurry.”

“You say Dr. Fraser’s here already?” Claire grimaced ashamed of her lateness. It seemed, however, that curiosity got the better of her. Doing her best to look nonchalant, she casually asked, “Um, how did he look? Tired was he?” Dark smudges rimmed her eyes from lack of sleep. Claire would have liked nothing more than to curl up in bed and pull the covers over her head.

“Nay, no’ at all. Dr. Fraser said he worked out in the gym first then ran here. He looked quite hale and hearty actually. A wee bit pink from the cold, but truly well.”

“Of course, he did,” mumbling with annoyance to herself, “the man is made out of steel.”

Opening her overstuffed slouchy bag, she began the ritual of hunting for her wallet.

Cocking his head to the side, Niall pushed the bag toward Claire, “Oh, and he paid for this too.”

“Thank you, Niall and I’ll thank Fraser when I see him.”

Grabbing the bag, she made a mad dash toward her arch-enemy, the lift.

As usual, the ride to her floor became an act of slow torture and unmitigated agony. Once the lift doors opened, she sprinted down the corridor shaking one arm out of her coat while juggling her purse and the bag with its precious contents in the other hand. As she arrived outside her office door, her other arm managed to jiggle out of its sleeve. Finding the key to her office would require a balancing act considering the disordered state of her handbag. Placing her coat between her teeth and the bag containing her coffee and scone between her knees, not the soundest of ideas mind, she rummaged inside her handbag. Of course, the key could not be found being buried in the deep recesses of the purse. Needing a little extra stability, Claire leaned against the doorway. The door swung open making her lose balance and stumble into the room. Her mouth opened, squawking in surprise causing the coat to drop to the floor. Flailing hands pinwheeled around trying to maintain equilibrium rather than land ignominiously on her arse. She managed to keep her footing but lost the grip on her purse and watched as the contents tumbled out spilling haphazardly around the room. By some miracle, the sack with the coffee and scone remained intact. Not a drop of the rejuvenating liquid spilled. Which, of course, was the most important thing.

Surveying the mess she had inadvertently created, Claire concluded it was going to be one of those days. No doubt about it. And to make matters worse, she would have to operate without Fraser. Not to have his strong capable hands there moving in concert with hers, well the thought just soured her stomach. Of course, Pound would be there to help, but he was still in training even if he was Chief Fellow and she would still have to monitor him.

Mumbling words that a lady should not use, Claire picked up her coat and tossed it on a chair. On her hands and knees, she crawled around picking up the scattered bits and bobs shoving them back in the purse.

Standing, she walked toward her desk and saw it. In the middle of the desk stood a small beautifully cut crystal vase filled with forget-me-nots, white heather, and baby’s breath. A handwritten card placed in front of the flowers was written in a distinctive script declaring, Tha gaol agam ort, J. Claire could not read Gàidhlig but she instinctively knew what it meant. Her eyes misted over as she touched the delicate blooms.

How do you do it, Jamie Fraser? You take a terrible day and turn it into something magical.

Claire put on her lab coat, grabbed the bag with her coffee and scone, and walked out closing the door behind her. She strolled toward her nemesis, the lift, smiling and humming happily.

****************

“Aye, that’s right. See how Dr. Beauchamp keeps her field clear. It gives ye an unobstructed view and prevents postoperative infection.” Jamie turned to look at his students and they all dutifully nodded in appreciation.

“Watch how Dr. Beauchamp creates the anastomosis. Then she’ll tie it off. See how she makes her knots! ‘Tis a thing of beauty, is it no’? Perfect technique!” Jamie praised. Peering at his beloved, he saw her eyes crinkle with pleasure and her cheeks blazed red above her mask.

He came alive while he watched her work. As a surgeon, she was smart, talented, and highly sought after. Not only because of her skill but because she deeply cared about her patients. Some colleagues thought her “too involved” or believed her gender would make her“too soft” to become a competent cardiothoracic surgeon. Other critics thought her involvement with her patients would undermine her professionalism.

They had made love. Legs twined together; her head rested on his shoulder while his arm curled around her protectively. Jamie turned on to his side just enough to allow him to see her nakedness gilded by the moonlight. She curled into him clinging to him like a limpet anchored to a rock. Her muscles tense where normally she lay in his arms boneless after their intimacy. Finding a particularly tight knot he massaged it and felt it go slack.

“Is something wrong, my own? Did I no’ please you?” he asked anxiously.

“No, you were wonderful, really, Jamie. It’s just me. I started thinking. I don’t know why. But it’s nothing at all truly. I’m fine, just fine.”

“Sassenach, I ken well enough what ‘I’m fine means. Why dinna ye tell me what’s upsetting ye.” Jamie pulled her closer, tucking Claire’s head under his chin.

“We need to go back soon,” she said in a voice so low as to be almost inaudible. “And I’m so happy here with you,” she looked up into those startling blue eyes. “Then I started thinking about what it took for me to get this far in my career. My residency. My Fellowship. And suddenly I wondered if it was all worth it. I wondered if they were right in the end.”

“Who was right, Sassenach?”

Heaving a heavy sigh, Claire shared her trials as a cardiothoracic fellow. The competition for the position had been fierce. Only the top five candidates were called back to interview for the one open position. Even though she was highly ranked among the candidates for the fellowship, her prospective mentors suggested that perhaps she would be more suited to pediatrics, dermatology, or aesthetics as one of those specialties might suit her female sensibilities better. They had suggested cardiothoracic surgery might be too rigorous for a woman. The hours too demanding for a married woman. What would her husband say? Wouldn’t she like to have a family someday?

“The only qualification I didn’t have was I didn’t have a prick,” she said with some bitterness. She never expected an easy time. A distinct amount of sexism existed in medicine and women were not welcomed with open arms. She worked the worst schedule and given the most complex cases. Evaluations were harsh and judgmental. All done in the hopes that she would quit. Instead, it just made her work harder. And she turned a blind eye and a deaf ear to the mockery heaped on her. Claire succeeded where many others failed. She became their first female Chief Fellow; won several prestigious awards for her research. More importantly to Claire, her patients thrived.

“I am beginning to think they were right about some things. There is so much more to life. Much, much more,” she said drowsily. “And I want to have it. All.” Yawning, her eyes fluttered closed, and fell into a contented sleep.

“Aye, mo nighean donn, ye will. I’ll see tae it,” and leaned over kissing her brow.

Truly Claire is a woman of rare spirit, he thought. A woman who overcame many challenges and obstacles from an early age and was better for it. After all, she survived a plane crash that claimed the lives of her parents, lived like a vagabond with her archeologist uncle, and prevailed over a nightmare marriage. Many people would have been crushed under such hardships. But not his Sassenach; she endured. She managed to overcome them and emerge victoriously. A woman of rare spirit indeed. And one who deserved to be loved and loved well.

Jamie’s narrative kept pace with Claire’s every movement. Occasionally, he fired off questions at various intervals to his followers which they answered to his satisfaction. They remained throughout the entire procedure until skin closure finished and the patient made ready for transfer to the CSICU.

“Dr. Pound will accompany the patient to their room and start to write the postoperative orders. Please go with him. I will meet you over there.”

“Dr. Beauchamp, a word if ye please about yer next case,” called Jamie.

“Of course, Dr. Fraser. I would be delighted.”

The doctors exited the operating room on the pretext of being nothing more than two colleagues engaged in a discussion about a patient scheduled for surgery that afternoon. They approached an out-of-the-way corridor between the OR and the CSICU stealing down the passageway like two thieves in the night. Jamie’s head spun around looking for anyone who might have observed them. Deciding that they had not been seen, he seized her hand and pulled her into a little-used utility room. He locked the door behind them and drew her close, kissing her thoroughly.

“I missed ye.”

Claire cuddled into him resting her head on his chest. “I missed you too.”

Lifting her arms, she wrapped them around his neck. “Come here,” she whispered as she tugged his head down toward her.

Claire kissed him once, then twice.

“No’ that I’m complaining but what’s that for?”

“One was for the coffee, the other was for the scone. This one,” her voice turned provocative, “is for the flowers.” Her mouth latched onto his giving him a proper thank you kiss. The kiss, a searing flame, igniting them like a match to dry kindling. It left them both breathless and wanting for more.

She pressed firmly against him. He could feel her nipples rigid and taut through the thin scrub top. He knew she felt him; his hardness pressed against her body. If only I were home with her I’d carry her off to bed. This thought, naturally, made things much worse for him.

“How did you manage it?” she asked, her voice a sultry husky tone.

“Ewan gets the credit.”

“Be sure to thank him for me.” Claire crushed her body closer to his taking in his warmth. She buried he nose against him absorbing his smell. His scent was masculine, with the tang of antiseptic and just a dash of laundry starch hovering around him. Some things completely stirred her soul.

Clearing his throat, Jamie asked in a shaky voice, “Will ye, ah, will ye… Christ Claire, I canna think with ye so close tae me. Will ye take yer lunch with me?”

“Yes,” she said breathily.

“Why don’t ye go dictate yer op notes while on check on Pound? I’ll meet ye in about thirty minutes.”

“That’s a fine idea,” she leaned forward giving him a quick kiss. “Don’t be late.”

Jamie opened the door enough to peek out and found the corridor remained empty.

“Ye go first, I’ll follow after ye shortly.”

Claire slipped through the door while Jamie watched as she left. He noticed a little extra sway to her hips as she walked away. Damn little vixen. She did it on purpose. Sighing, he closed the door and leaned his head against it. He would have a wait a minute or two until his “problem” disappeared. It was becoming truly uncomfortable as he sought to adjust himself. “She’ll be the death of me yet.”

***********************

Walking into the CSICU after completing a successful surgery always filled Jamie with a certain satisfaction. He felt overjoyed that he and Claire helped patients return to their life, their work, their family, and without pain. He would tell patients, when he first met them, that this surgery was “enabling”. It would enable them to return to the life they wanted and not become a bystander.

With that thought in mind and a large grin on his face, Jamie swiped his badge across the electronic keypad granting him entrance into the Unit. The sounds of controlled chaos greeted him, voices raised, ventilators whooshing delivering needed oxygen, the soft beeping of heart monitors keeping time with healing hearts, IV pumps clicking as they delivered medication critical to the patient’s recovery.

He walked briskly toward the nurses’ station with gladness in his heart for he was back where he belonged.

“Fiona, ‘tis good tae see ye. How have ye been?” he inquired of the Unit’s charge nurse.

With the sound of his voice all conversation, all activity ceased, and every eye fastened onto him. The silence in the room would have been deafening if not for the continued mechanical sounds. Jamie became keenly aware of the absence of sound and the staff rooted in position. And just as quickly as it started it ended with activity resuming at its normal pace.

Fiona MacGowen kept her eyes glued to her computer screen, deliberately not making direct eye contact with the doctor. “Oh just braw, Dr. Fraser, just braw. Dr. Beauchamp’s patient is in Room 10 with Dr. Pound, Elspeth, and Iona getting him settled,” she said with her lips slightly turning up in a smile. “They’ll be waiting on ye.”

“Thank ye, Fiona. I’ll go and see how they are getting along.”

Jamie walked away, stopped, and turned back to look at Fiona once more. He thought her behavior a bit strange. Generally, one would say Fiona was a gregarious person with the reputation of being a chatterbox. Today, however, she acted more like a nun under a vow of silence. But to be honest, as he gazed around the Unit once more, everyone’s behavior seemed strange. And he had yet figured out what to make of it.

As Jamie approached the room the sounds of busyness gave the impression of a beehive humming with activity. As he stepped into the entryway, activity ceased. Again, all that remained was the soft mechanical sounds made by the life-sustaining equipment.

Elspeth stood quite still and uttered a little gasp. Meanwhile, Iona took a step back bumping into the ventilator; her eyes round with surprise. Dr. Pound cleared his throat glaring at the two nurses. They resumed their usual pleasant expressions with lips curling up into crooked smiles.

Jamie looked at the three of them thinking his team had gone daft.

“‘Tis good to have ye back Dr. Fraser,” declared the Fellow. “The ladies and I were just finishing getting Mr. MacNichol set up.”

Pound grabbed one of the portable workstations and began reviewing the patient’s current vitals as well as the orders he had written with the surgeon. They discussed the ventilator’s and pacemaker’s current settings, and when to call Dr. Beauchamp with any changes to her patient.

“Well-done, well-done. Mr. MacNichol is in very capable hands,” he smiled at his team. “I am off to lunch. Ye ken how to reach Dr. Beauchamp or me.”

Jamie walked out of the room and on impulse turned back to see the three heads buried in whispered conversation. He shook his head and left thinking about having lunch with Claire wanting to discuss the staff’s strange behavior with her.

Preoccupied with his thoughts, Jamie walked smack into his cousin Rupert almost knocking him down. Extending his arm quickly he caught his cousin by the shoulder steadying him.

“Sorry about that Rup. Doing a bit of wool-gathering I suppose.”

“Oy must be something awfully important to have ye so distracted.”

“I promised Claire I would have lunch with her and I dinna want tae be late.”

“Tae tell ye the truth, I am on my way tae find Geillis. We’re supposed to have a bite together too. Suppose ye two join us, aye?” He grinned broadly, “Twill be interesting to see if the plan

succeeded.”

“Sounds like a good idea cuz,” Jamie clapped an arm around Rupert’s shoulder as they strode off in search of the lasses.

************************************

Seated at one of the dictation corrals, Claire began her op notes. Her cardiac anesthesiologist, Geillis Duncan took the hutch next to her.

Dr. Duncan was a beautiful woman, with a trim figure, flaming red hair, and eyes as green as spring grass.

“Claire, ‘tis good tae have ye back. I’m sorry I dinna have much of a chance tae speak with ye this morning before the case. Did ye enjoy the conference?” Dr. Duncan gave Claire a sly side-long look.

“Wouldn’t you know it, Boston had a blizzard and the speakers weren’t able to make it.”

“No. What a shame. Ye flew all that way for nothing,” she sympathized.

“Too bad, right? Dr. Fraser and I were looking forward to hearing about those peripherally inserted heart valves.”

“Aye, but ye had the fox cub with ye. Perhaps it wasna so bad after all,” she leaned over jabbing Claire in the side. “Did ye maybe get tae share a room and have a go at him between the sheets, um?” She gave Claire a wicked smile. “I ken if I was snowed in with him, I would.

“Geillis!” Claire swore. She blushed from her hair roots to her toes.

Geillis gave her a sly smug smile. “After all, Georges X is an exclusive luxury hotel. Verra private, and verra, verra discrete. Or so I’ve heard,” she said shrugging her shoulders. “They have those flowers, all over the place. What are they? Orchids? she asked while tapping her nail against her white teeth feigning an attempt at recalling. I understand the lobby is decorated with a fortune in artwork. The rooms are quite grand, are they no’, with a fireplace, champagne, chocolate-dipped strawberries, fine whiskey. And I hear the bed is big enough to sleep an entire family. How could ye no’ entice him into yer bed, is what I want tae know?”

Claire glared at her friend, “What I want to know is how you know I stayed at Georges X. I know I never told you.”

Geillis chuckled nervously, “Why of course ye did. How else would I ken that?” Geillis became uncomfortable under Claire’s scrutiny.

“Spill it, Duncan. You know more than you’re telling.”

Geillis affected a look of innocence, “I swear tae ye Claire, I dinna ken anything.” She nervously scanned the area looking for any means of escape from further questioning. Her eyes latched on to Dr. Rupert MacKenzie ambling directly toward her, along with Jamie. “I need tae go. I promised tae meet Rupert for lunch. See ye later, Claire.”

Reaching out, Claire grasped Geillis by the forearm, “That’s a load of rubbish and you know it. I suspected there was something dodgy about that trip right from the beginning. I need answers and you have them, Duncan. You’re coming with me.”

************************************

The two male surgeons walked amicably through the corridor talking and laughing as Rupert entertained Jamie with tales of hospital gossip. As they approached the physician workstation, they noticed a loud commotion that seemed to be attracting a crowd. Jamie wondered what caused the kerfuffle this time. Most such squabbles centered around obtaining a certain OR room or available time for surgery. This behavior bordered on the ridiculous in his opinion.

As the men came closer to the center of the fray, they saw two female doctors engaged in a struggle. One of them had wild brown curls bouncing around her head. Claire? The second doctor had hair the color of flame. That head of hair belonged to the fiery Geillis Duncan. He quickened his pace needing to reach Claire.

“Claire! Claire,” he called, “What’s amiss?”

“‘Claire’ he calls her now. No’ Dr. Beauchamp,” Geillis snorted.

Claire’s posture had all the hallmarks of frustration and anger as she tried to drag her colleague toward the doctor’s lounge.

Claire’s eyes locked on Jamie, “It seems that Dr. Duncan knows a great deal about our trip. Particularly where we stayed and I want to know how.”

Rupert took Geillis firmly by the elbow and leaned over to hotly whisper in her ear, “Wha’ have ye done woman!?”

Cold green eyes glared fixedly up at him disliking his insinuation. “I may have spilled a bit of tea is all,” she said, wrenching her arm free of his grip.

“Sounds more like ye spilled the whole damn pot,” he growled at her. “Ye ken they were never supposed to find out, at least no’ this way. We were supposed to tell them gentle like. Now what?”

Dr. Duncan gave her shoulders the tiniest of shrugs. “Dinna fash. We’ll think of something,” and walked toward the lounge.

He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, “Aye, that’s what I’m afraid of.”

Rupert held the lounge door open for his co-conspirator trying to usher her quietly into the room. Geillis, however, turned to observe Jamie and Claire huddled deep in discussion.

“Are ye both going to stand there all day blethering, or are ye coming? I’m hungry and I want my lunch.” she snapped.

The crowd lingered about waiting for the fuse to be lit and the fireworks to begin. Dr. Duncan had a very volatile reputation easily flying into pieces like an unstable explosive device. Whereas, Dr. Beauchamp was a genial person, kind and caring. But, the one thing she was not was a meek individual. When pushed beyond her tolerance limits, she could be as ruthless as a she-wolf defending her pups.

Jamie placed his hand firmly on the small of Claire’s back giving her a little nudge forward. The crowd began to murmur heads close in a whispered discussion, Some rudely pointed a finger at his hand on her back, while others outright stared. Jamie flushed. He should have known such an intimate placement of his hand would draw attention. They saw he claimed her. Not knowing how Claire would feel about this public display, he thought he needed to break up this crowd before someone accidentally said something.

“Show’s over everyone. Just a private meeting among friends. Nothing tae see here. I’m sure ye all have some work tae do. Patients are waiting for ye. Go on with ye.” Jamie said dismissing the loitering group.

Following behind Claire, Jamie entered the room and shut the door.

Claire wanted to get to the bottom of things quickly and stormed up to her colleague in a blazing fury. “Alright Duncan, spill what you know.”

“I already told ye. I dinna ken anything about ye trip. As I said either you or Jamie must have mentioned where ye were staying. Beyond that, I dinna ken anything.”

Jamie looked at Claire and shook his head signifying that he had never mentioned the hotel to anyone.

“Um-hm. Since when does this institution send a chauffeured car to pick up two staff surgeons? For the Chief certainly but not for ordinary staff personnel. And we’re supposed to believe that the hospital made five-star accommodations with all expenses paid for us? Hmm? I think not. Did I not say so, Jamie?”

“Aye, ye did. Several times.”

“Claire began to pace while considering the other strange occurrences surrounding their trip.

“And what about my clothes? I most certainly did not pack away that nightgown. It was a mere scrap of silk and lace. And that lingerie! Those panties and bras were not something I would have packed for a conference trip.”

“I’ll bet he enjoyed it,” Geillis muttered under her breath a sly grin curling up on her lips lighting up her face.

Jamie leaned forward, his eyes narrowing, staring intensely at the female doctor, “I am inclined tae agree with Dr. Beauchamp that the circumstances surrounding our trip tae Boston were, tae say the least, most unusual. I also had clothes in my suitcase that I ken I dinna pack and I’m wondering how they got there. Can ye shed any light on this mystery?”

As Jamie questioned Geillis, an acrid odor caught Claire’s attention. Being a very astute doctor, she was used to the various malodors emitted by humans and knew what they meant. She raised her nose into the air and sniffed delicately. The pungent smell seemed to be coming from the direction of Rupert. A light sheen of sweat glossed over his forehead and there was a distinctive musky odor about him. Fear. Anxiety. Her intense scrutiny seemed to worsen whatever internal conflict plaguing him. Unable to withstand the intensity of her stare, Rupert turned away not wanting to meet her eyes.

Claire jabbed Jamie in his side with her elbow gaining his attention.

“I think Rupert has something to add to this conversation.”

Jamie walked over to his cousin and stared at him intently. Rupert took a few steps back, feeling the unconscious need to put some distance between them.

“Aye, I think yer right. Rupert, ye look like ye have something ye’d like tae get off yer chest. Out with it man.”

Deciding that the best defense is a good offense, Rupert widened his stance and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I dinna ken what yer talking about Jamie lad. As the lady said, I dinna ken anything about yer trip either. And dinna ask if I ken anything about how yer jeans, duck boots, and down jacket got into yer suitcase,” he replied, a self-satisfied look plastered across his face.

“Ye great dunderheid! Do ye ken what ye said?! Ye just gave it away,” Geillis shouted giving him a slap upside his head. “And ye were worried about what I said.”

“Wha’ are ye talking ab…” He had that startled look that one has when they realize they stuck their foot in their mouth. “Oh! Oh, shite.”

“Ye just admitted that ye changed Jamie’s clothes in his suitcase.”

“Dinna blame me for everything. You changed Claire’s clothes,” Rupert countered.

The two combatants escalated the argument going at each other nose to nose, eyeball to eyeball, tooth, fang, and claw.

“And whose ideas was this? Mine. Who made the hotel arrangements and spoke tae Joe Silverberg in Texas to get him on board with the plan should one of them call to discuss the meeting?” Geillis boasted as she swung her hair over her shoulder. A dreamy look took over her as she recalled the conversation with Dr. Silverberg. “I invited him to come to Scotland, ye ken. Told him I would show him the sights and a good time. Said he may take me up on that too.”

“Mmphm, so ye did,” Rupert grumbled with annoyance. He did not like the suggestion of Geillis showing the American surgeon a good time. “Ye forget I made the plane arrangements and got Kenny to print up the fake conference brochure. And who enlisted their secretary’s help to slip the vacation request under the Chief’s nose and have him sign it? Cost me a night out as payment for that,” Rupert griped.

The two doctors continued in their game of one-up-manship, oblivious to Jamie and Claire standing in the room.

Unable to take the bickering anymore, Jamie bellowed, “Haud yer weesht!!!”

Geillis and Rupert looked up in bewilderment having forgotten where they were and that Jamie and Claire stood listening.

“Do ye two realize that what ye did invaded our privacy? That ye had no right to interfere in our lives?” Jamie growled.

“So, that’s it then? The whole thing was a setup, some sort of game? None of this was real? ” Claire said as she looked at Jamie.

“I beg tae differ, hen,” Gellis walked over her expression softening and gently took hold of Claire’s hand, “it’s as real as it can get. We all saw the lovesick eyes, the secret peeks ye two gave each other, and the way ye fuss over each other. If two people were meant to be together it’s ye two. We just nudged things along is all, ” said Geillis.

“Aye, yer right,” Rupert chimed in. “‘Tis the truth that NO one could take watching ye two anymore. The whole hospital wanted tae see ye together.” Rupert smiled at Claire. He quickly turned his vexation on his cousin. “And if Fraser here was no’ going tae be a man about it and make the first move, well by God someone had tae,” he snarled at Jamie. “What are ye then, cuz, a man or a moose?”

Jamie ran his hand through his hair and rolled his shoulders as if trying to loosen his shirt that had suddenly become too tight. A shy crooked smile flashed over his face; his lip curling up on one side.

“Aye, yer right. I, ah, I… Well, tae tell the truth, I am a bit of a coward. Ye ken, I dinna think um, I dinna know if Claire felt the same about me.” Jamie turned and looked deeply in Claire’s eyes, “I was afraid tae lose ye. If being yer friend would be the best of it, then that would have been enough.”

“I was afraid of losing you too, Jamie. I’ve had feelings for you right from the start. Only now do I dare to admit them,” Claire turned toward Rupert and Geillis giving them a look of gratitude. Moving closer, placing her hands on his chest. “I love you and I always will.” Her arms went up around his neck, standing on tiptoe, she leaned in, and kissed him soundly.

The kiss finally ended, each blushing from making a display of themselves.

Geillis stood there making gagging noises as she watched their affection. Rupert looked at Geillis with a smirk on his face.

“What’s the matter, lass, jealous?” Rupert said with a grin on his face.

“Certainly not,” Geillis waved off that idea with a flip of her hand and turned away.

“Well then, ye won't be minding this. I've wanted tae do this for a long time.” Rupert turned her around, took her in his arms, and kissed her.

“And I dinna want tae hear about ye showing any other men a good time, either.” He gave her a look that told her he would not brook no for an answer.

Geillis, looking dazed readily agreed.

Jamie coughed loudly, reminding the other couple they were not alone.

Wrapping his arm around Claire and pulling her into his side, Jamie smiled at their friends, “We want to thank ye, both, for bringing us together. We are truly grateful.”

Claire nodded in agreement, forgetting about her anger with the unorthodox methods they used to bring her the love of her life.

“Since we are all telling the truth,” Rupert reluctantly admitted, “there’s a wee bit more to it.” “We were not the only ones involved in this. When other staff members heard what we about they wanted tae be part of it. And so...”

“And so everyone began to contribute money tae help pay for the trip. So that’s how ye had such fine accommodations and such.” Geillis huffed, “We told ye that people could no longer stand tae look at ye. They wanted ye two as a couple, no’ apart. Now can we stop havering about and get some lunch? My wame is empty. Besides, everyone is waiting in the canteen tae see ye both.”

“Oh, God,” Claire groaned as she grew red and buried her face in Jamie’s chest.

Jamie chuckled and rubbed her back in long soothing strokes.

“Are ye ready then, Sassenach? Let’s go give these good people their money’s worth,” he grinned.

“Yes. We should thank them all, don’t you think?” Claire replied, running her fingers through her hair trying to tame her wayward curls.

“Ye look fine, lass,” he bent to kiss her gently on the cheek and took hold of her hand.

Rupert and Geillis led the way, laughing and talking. Claire and Jamie walked behind them holding hands. Nerves were getting the best of her and her hands became sweaty. She surreptitiously wiped her free hand on the scrub pant leg.

“Dinna fash. Ye’ve faced worse and ye’ll no’ be doing this alone. We’ll face them as one.”

One.

ONE, he said. But. What did that exactly mean?

“What do you mean by that? Being one?” She held her breath waiting for an answer.

Jamie frowned, crease lines set upon his forehead.

“It’s like I’ve kent ye my whole life, even before that, if that’s possible. I mean yer part of me. I ken that sounds crazy, but I…”

“I know what you mean, Jamie. I feel the same way too. It’s hard to explain, but it’s there.”

“Aye, lass, it’s most definitely there.”

Approaching the canteen seemed a surreal experience. Normally, one would call the dining hall a lively place, with the sounds of laughter, chatter, mixed with the scrape of dinnerware against plates. Today seemed different. A thrum of excitement and perhaps expectation filled the air as if waiting for something to happen. As Jamie and Claire approached the door a steady vibration emanated from its core.

Geillis waved them back signaling she and Rupert would enter first. Rupert lifted his hand spreading his fingers indicating they should wait five minutes before entering. Jamie nodded and Rupert and Geillis entered the dining room.

Jamie and Claire waited in companionable silence. Who would think that five minutes could feel like an eternity? But it did.

Jamie looked at his watch; it was time.

“Are ye ready, Sassenach?”

“Je suis prest,” she acknowledged.

Their fingers reached out seeking their mate bonded the two hearts and souls into one. Turning they gave each other a nod and walked through the door only to meet with absolute silence.

All eyes turned upon them and it became unnerving. Claire inched closer to Jamie, if that was even possible, drawing on his strength.

Then the cheers began along with the whistles and applause. Someone from the back of the room called out, “It’s about time, Fraser.”

“Och why don’t ye just give us a bit of peace, aye?” came his laughing response.

They were rushed by a mob of well-wishers. Men clapped Jamie on the back wishing him well. Others made jokes, at his expense, about his manliness for taking so long.

The women embraced Claire telling her how happy they were for her. Some gave her sly looks while others made off-color jokes causing her to blush.

Eventually, people began to amble back to their tables and lunch, and the couple discovered themselves alone. Finding a table in an out-of-the-way corner, they sat to eat.

“I guess we are out as a couple officially. It’s no’ how I would have wished it tae become common knowledge, but…” Jamie shrugged. “They are good people and they meant well.”

Claire nodded in agreement as she moved her salad around on the plate not eating.

“It’s a strange feeling. Knowing that someone orchestrated this relationship. I know how this will sound, but I feel like this happened to me, to us before.”

Claire looked up at Jamie, eyes pleading for understanding.

“Forget what I said, it’s silly.” She stabbed a particularly tender piece of lettuce and ate it.

“Nay Sassenach, it’s no’ silly at all. I feel it too. It’s as if I am drawn to ye as if I kent ye from another lifetime. Like we were meant to be together, bonded if ye like.”

“That’s it, exactly.” Claire looked at him with a sense of relief. Looking up, she noticed the clock on the wall, reading 12:55 PM.

“Damn, we have to go. We’ll barely make it in time for Dr. de Gascogne’s appointment for your hand.”

Jamie muttered something in Gàidhlig which Claire really didn’t want a translation of.

“I dinna ken why everyone is making such a fuss over my hand. It doesna hurt and it will heal in a few more weeks.”

Claire blew out a breath of exasperation, “You know very well why Dr. Fraser. Your one of the best cardiac surgeons in all of Scotland. Well, next to me you are,” she said teasingly. Besides, the hospital needs you, your patients need you but most of all I need you. So that’s why.”

“I ken, but I dinna like being fussed over.”

“Yes, I know; you’re a doctor and doctors make terrible patients. You think you’re supposed to do the healing and don’t like when you need help,” Claire said with a raised eyebrow. “Now, let’s get your hand attended to, shall we?”

They hurried through the corridors, making it to the appointment with seconds to spare. Jamie was whisked off for X-Rays then he and Claire were escorted to an exam room. He sat on the examination bed while Claire took the chair next to him awaiting Dr. de Gascogne’s appearance.

Jamie studiously inspected an anatomical chart of the hand and wrist hanging on the wall in the room.

“Ye said ye need me,” he said almost inaudibly. “Do ye mean as yer surgical partner or as something more?

Claire noticed him drumming his fingers on his thigh anxiously.

“I need you, Jamie, in every sense of the word. As my partner, my friend, my lover, my everything. I. Need. You.” Claire stood and walked over to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck pressing her forehead to his.

“Aye, weel I wanted to make sure, is all. Yer the prettiest lass in the hospital. Any man would want tae be with ye,” and gave her a shy smile.

“Jamie Fraser, you say the most…” There was a knock on the door, the knob turned and Dr. de Gascogne entered the room finding the lovers locked in an embrace.

She looked at the two, raised an eyebrow at Jamie’s hands on Claire’s hips, “Un jour, quelqu'un entrera dans votre vie et vous fera comprendre pourquoi cela n'a jamais fonctionné avec quelqu'un d'autre, mes chers. Et il semble que vous ayez. I believe congratulations are in order. My secretary tells me you have announced that you are a couple. You two made quite a stir in the dining hall?”

Claire jumped away returning to her seat cheeks and nose bright red. While Jamie’s ears went pink.

“Well, um, ah, yes. Thank you. I believe that we made quite a spectacle of ourselves and continue to do so, it seems,” Claire replied mortified having been caught.

“Ah, mon chéri never be ashamed to show that you are in love. We are born of love and seek out love. Many have sacrificed greatly for love even died for it. It truly is a treasure to enjoy. No?” Dr. de Gascogne said with a smile. “Now to business.”

Dr. de Gascogne opened the electronic medical record and began her inquiry. Jamie explained how he injured his hand - twice - causing Dr. de Gascogne to raise her eyebrows in total disbelief.

She reviewed the X-Rays; then removed the splints. She moved and wiggled the fingers finding them healing well and moving to her satisfaction. The splints were replaced and Jamie was dismissed with a caution not to hit any more people or trees. She instructed him to see her again in one month for a further follow-up.

The two surgeons graciously thanked Dr. de Gascogne for her time and casually left the examination room. As soon as they could not be seen, they bolted toward the operating suites as quickly as they could eager to leave behind another awkward situation.

The remainder of the afternoon went on as planned. Claire completed her second surgical procedure without incident. Jamie’s students doggedly followed him from place to place. Finally, the day came to an end. The surgeons tiredly returned to their offices, checked in for urgent messages and for their schedule for the next day. Each too exhausted to do much of anything else, except want the comfort of a bed, chose to go home. It was a short walk to Claire’s flat from the hospital and Jamie escorted her home. He wrapped his arm around her waist and she leaned into him. They spoke of this and that sharing different events of their day. Arriving at Claire’s flat, they walked up the stairs toward the front door. Jamie stood one step lower than Claire allowing them to be of an equal height.

A wave of fatigue washed over her, but Claire did not want Jamie to leave despite her tiredness.

“Would you like to come up? I have some soup in the fridge. Mrs. Bug made it. She’s quite the cook. Won’t take more than a moment to heat up. Or maybe a glass of wine or a dram? To help unwind?” she said looking at him hopefully.

He unzipped both their jackets and pulled her into the depth of his wrapping the jacket around her. He wanted her close to him and to share his warmth with her.

“Mo chridhe, yer completely knackered and ye need yer rest. If I come up with ye, ye ken neither of us will get any sleep,” he said pressing himself against her his desire completely apparent. “It’s no’ that I dinna want tae, but it wouldna do tae have ye fall asleep tomorrow during yer procedures.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve worked with little sleep, just like you have, during residency and fellowship,” she pouted.

“Aye, but ye need to set an example for the students and fellows. And what about yer patients? They need Dr. Beauchamp at her best. They’re counting on ye.”

Claire luxuriated in the radiant heat of his body and the knowledge that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. But, she still did not want him to leave. For to be alone with Jamie was bliss but to be alone was, well, to be alone. She racked her fatigued brain for anything that would keep Jamie with her. She blurted out the first thing that came to mind, “I love you.”

“I ken ye do, mo nighean donn. I feel it every time ye touch me,” Jamie took her hand tenderly placing a kiss on her palm. Gently, he folded her fingers over to seal his kiss against her skin. “And when ye kiss me,” he brushed his lips over hers. “Most of all, when ye lie with me. I ken the truth of it in our lovemaking,” he pulled her even closer to him until no space existed between their bodies. “Woman, ye’re like a live wire. Yer body fairly pulses with yer love and it flows out from you into me. It’s no’ just lust between us. ‘Tis love that brought us together and binds our souls. ‘Tis a thing that I never knew I wanted or needed until I found ye,” his hand moved to cup her face.

“It’s the same for me. I never knew it could be like this. Especially, after Frank. I thought all relationships would end up like that one. I see how foolish I had been to keep myself closed. To close my heart from love. If not for this trip, this may have never happened. We may have never happened.”

“Mo leannan, I would have found ye somehow. Whether I found ye now or even if I had to wait two hundred years to find ye, I’d find ye. We are meant to be together. I ken it.” His forehead pressed to hers each inhaling the other’s breath.

It began to rain lightly; a mizzle he had once called it. Tiny droplets of water clung to his hair. In the light of the streetlamp, his hair looked like a ruby adorned with sparkling diamonds.

They stood locked in an embrace for several moments; neither truly wanting to part from the other.

“Sassenach,” he whispered into her ear, “go on up. Ye need yer rest. Yer poor wee eyes are closing and there are dark smudges around them. Go on then. I’ll see ye tomorrow.”

He kissed her on the forehead and she nodded her head in agreement. Claire walked up the last two steps and slid the key into the lock of the front door. She turned to watch Jamie as he disappeared into the night walking toward his home and it occurred to her that this was just the beginning of their life and of their story.

The End - Part I

Tha gaol agam ort: I love you. (As if you didn’t know already.)

Anastomosis: An anastomosis is a surgical connection between two structures. It usually means a connection that is created between tubular structures, such as blood vessels or loops of the intestine.

CSICU/Unit: Cardiac Surgical ICU.

Blatherer: Chatterbox.

Dunderheid: An idiot, a stupid person.

Haud yer weesht: Be quiet.

Moose: mouse

Un jour, quelqu'un entrera dans votre vie et vous fera comprendre pourquoi cela n'a jamais fonctionné avec quelqu'un d'autre, mes chers. Et il semble que vous ayez.: One day someone will walk into your life and make you see why it never worked out with anyone else, my dears. And it seems that you have. (Google translation. If it’s wrong I apologise.) The quote is attributed to anonymous.

Mo nighean donn: My brown-haired lass

Mo leannan: Darling

Mizzle: A light rain

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. This Jamie and Claire will return. When I don't know. I also have several other stories in various stages of completion sitting in my files. I would like to give them a little attention too. And I still need to get through all the other stuff going on in my life.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading. 🧡🧡🧡🧡

#edinburgh to boston #chapter 21 #Secrets and truths #here goes nothing #ol fic #my writing #jamie and claire #I can't believe I finished it

73 notes · View notes

eleanorbloom · 3 years

Text

When You’re Ready Ch. 18

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x f! MC (Eleanor Bloom) x Ethan Ramsey.

Word Count: 7.4k (I’m making up for my almost three weeks of absence!)

Warnings: Angst, cussing and nudity. Rated T.

A/N: Please excuse me the fact that I’m mixing past and present tense in this chapter. I tried to write it all in past tense as usual, but it didn’t feel right aesthetically in some parts, so I just let it be XD

Taglist @utterlyinevitable @binny1985 @shanzay44 @choicesficwriterscreations @starrystarrytrouble @lahellacute @lucy-268 @cinnamonspongecake @romewritingshop @bratzlahela @mrs-raleighcarrera @mercury84choices @curiousconch

______

Chapter 18: Into My Arms.

So keep your candles burning

And make her journey bright and pure

That she will keep returning

Always and evermore

Into my arms, O Lord

Bryce had never been a man of strong faiths, but he wasn't a cynical either.

He was just practical. He respected people who needed something to believe in, but preferred to put his beliefs in science because that's what was closer to infallibility compared to religion. After all, that's why he decided to become a surgeon, he believed in the power of medicine to heal people against all adversities.

However, he knew medicine wasn't enough. At least not when he's not the one holding the scalpel and giving everything he has to save a life, but holding the hand of the person he loves the most, and her life is hanging by a thread.

Doctors have medicine. They do everything they can with their knowledge and skills to save lives. But patients? All they have in the waiting is hope. And all they can do is pray.

After spending hours awake, not missing a single second of her breath, of her arterial pressure, of her oxygen levels, all the indicators that could assure him that she was alive, the passing of time inevitably starts kitting uncertainty upon him. Would it be enough? Will they do it on time? Will they do it at all? Because he knows the possibilities and limits of medicine. He knows that sometimes there won't be an answer, there won't be a cure, there won't be anything that could be done.

Sometimes, medicine is not enough and death is inevitable.

Bryce had never been a man of strong faiths, but he wasn't a cynical because maybe, just maybe, he was just waiting for the time he would need something to believe in. When his optimism and science combined wouldn't be enough. When the waiting would be so long, excruciating, and painful that he would need something to hold on to. A refuge.

Just like now.

Just like now when there's nothing left to do but pray.

To God, Allah, Buddha, Yahweh, Jehovah, Kāne.

"Please, please, let them find the antidote. Please, let them find it on time so Eleanor, Rafael, and Danny can survive. Please. Please."

There's no logic in asking the unseen something only medicine can give. But it doesn't hurt. It actually feels like a warm blanket that envelops in the middle of a tempest. At some point, it will soak with rain and it will no longer provide warmth, but it will do for a while. And that's all that he needs. Temporary comfort. Temporary faith to go through the night.

"Please protect her. Don't take her away. Don't take her away from me. Please. Please."

And then he begs like God is doing all this. As if they don't make the antidote, is because God moved his thread to not make it happen.

As if he needs to have someone to blame in case things go wrong.

Because blaming God is universal.

"They'll make it, they'll make it. They'll find the cure. She will live. They will live. Everything will be alright."

And then he just holds onto hope. He desperately forces himself to stay positive. To not think in a scenario where they don't make the antidote or where it's too late. And he tries to remain in that state, not daring to move his thoughts even a single inch, fearing that the slight movement could send him to the abyss. So he just locks himself in that state of mind. Hoping. Pleading.

Sunrise was dimly percolating through the blinds when a shriek startled him. Bryce turned his gaze, previously fixated in the monitor, and found Eleanor tossing on the bed, shuddering.

"Eleanor, what is it? I'm here, baby."—He asked, standing up from the chair and leaning over her, studying her reactions. Her breath was ragging and all of a sudden, she sat up, clutching her stomach desperately.

"It… Owww! It hurts so much…"

"What hurts?"

"My stomach and… my chest… My… My lungs and… heart…"

Her voice went mute and then hunched on the bed, her cries growing desperate.

"It's okay babe, take a deep breath."—He pated her on the back in a soothing way, hoping that the slow movement could ease her pain somehow.—"In half an hour someone from the team should come to administer the next dose of your treatment. How much it hurts? Do you think you can hold on?"

After a few moments, Eleanor nodded, thriving to breathe as deep and slowly as she could.

"Seven."

"Okay, you can do this, beautiful."

Bryce forced himself to take a deep breath too. Even if had passed several hours since Eleanor fell in that state, he could never get used to the idea of her suffering and not being able to do anything to stop her pain.

"Do you want some water?"

"Please."

Trying to ignore the lump in his throat, Bryce walked to the other side of the bed, poured a glass of water, and offered it to her, sitting behind her to give her support.

Eleanor received the glass and brought it to her mouth her hand quivering. Bryce hurried to place his own hand over hers to steady the glass and then watched her intently, waiting for her reaction.

A moment later, her eyes widened.

Fuck.

"What is it? It… it feels hot for you?"

She nodded, slowly and solemnly.

His whole body froze for a second.

"I'm doomed."

It was an affirmation, not even a complaint.

"Babe, you are not doomed. You're still standing, there's still time, and I'm sure the team will find the antidote soon."

"Stop this crap, Bryce. Let's be realistic here, it will be less painful for you in the … Owwww. Shit!"—Her face flinched and a hysteric sob escaped her mouth.—"Fuckkk, it hurts so much now…"

"How much?"

"A nine."

"I'll page Ramsey."

Bryce took Eleanor's pager and wrote frantically. He didn't know how he steadied his hands because his whole body was trembling, and his mind was feeling unbearably dizzy.

"COME NOW."

It had taken him just a few seconds paging Ethan, but when Bryce looked at Eleanor, her face was glistening with sweat and the only reason she was still staying upright on the bed, was because he was holding her from behind.

"I'm sorry Bryce… I'm… not strong enough."

"Baby don't say that. You're incredibly strong and brave."

Even through the latex, Bryce could feel how cold her body was, and when he placed a hand over her forehead, she felt even colder.

Desperate, he took her in his arms and placed her on his lap, cradling her protectively.

As she felt his warmth enveloping her, Eleanor curled up over him, grasping the fabric of his suit instinctively, and pressed her face to his chest.

He had never seen her this fragile and weak.

"I'm so tired…"

Her eyelids seemed heavy, making her incapable of keeping them open, but she was resisting, trying to see him through the window of his suit.

He looked into her chocolate eyes, tired and pleading, while he was tracing soothing circles on her temple.

"It will pass, babe, I promise. Ethan will put you to sleep, but please, please stay with me. Stay with me."

How much he wanted to place a kiss on her forehead and soothe her pain with his caresses, as so many times he had done before. When she was feeling sad, angry, frustrated, sick. He had always found a way to make her feel better.

But now…

The lump in his throat was so painful that he couldn't hold the tears anymore.

He felt so useless.

So hopeless.

He couldn't do anything right. He couldn't stop her pain, he couldn't find the antidote. And now he couldn't even hold his emotions and stay strong for her, while she was trying so hard to keep her eyes open and stay with him.

He was an utter fiasco.

And then… her body felt heavier in his arms and her grip on him loosed.

Bryce panicked.

"Babe?"—His voice was barely a whisper. He looked at the monitor, her vitals were dropping. —"Babe? Please…"

He didn't know if he was pleading to her or to the unknown.

"I'm… ssso…tired…"

His whole body relaxed when he heard her voice. She was still with him. She just couldn't with her body anymore.

He embraced her more tightly, pressing her head to his chest, and stroked her hair softly.

"Keep fighting, babe, I got you. You're doing great, gorgeous."

He didn't know how much time passed, but suddenly the sound of the decontamination tent door woke him up from his pleading state. When he looked up, Ethan was standing in the entry, frozen.

It was a shocking view, undoubtedly. Her body motionless in Bryce's arms, while he was fighting the sobs with pleading words.

"What happened?"

Baz asked, slipping behind Ethan, with an evident tremor in his voice.

Bryce cleared his throat and breathed deeply.

"She… Uh… experienced the hot-cold reversal a while ago and her pain has escalated. Started with a seven and now is a nine."

Only then Ethan could react, taking a step toward the bed, studying the bundle of bones curled up over Bryce's lap.

"Her vitals had dropped but are still better than Rafael's at the moment he fell into a coma."— June commented, inspecting the numbers in the monitor.—"Any other symptoms?"

"Cold sweat and loss of strength."

"Did she sleep?"

"Yes, about five hours. She woke up minutes before I paged."

June nodded, adding the new information to the chart.

"Eleanor, are you still with us?"—Baz asked, holding a needle with a crystalline liquid inside.

Eleanor hummed.

"Good. Excellent. I'm gonna administer a higher dose than last time, okay? This will put you to sleep and hopefully when you wake up the pain will have decreased."

Baz injected the dose into the IV. After a few minutes, when Bryce felt she had fallen into a deep slumber, he stood up and placed her on the bed, covering her with the duvet. Then, turned to Ethan, who was witnessing the whole process silently.

"Any progress with the antidote?"

"Yes. There's a chemical that we are synthesizing that seems to be our best option so far. We are expecting to have it ready in a couple of hours."

Bryce nodded, hope resurfacing again after such dark and tortuous hours.

After a few more exchanges, the Team left, leaving him alone again, praying with all his strength that the chemical is the answer.

Minutes feel like hours. And hours an eternity. His hand had gotten atrophied by holding hers, but letting her go isn't an option, scared that she might go if he leaves her even for a second.

He's drugged by fear.

"We did it!"

Bryce isn't sure if he's imagining it, if he's daydreaming about the moment when their friends and the team will find the cure, or if it's true. If it's really happening.

But when he sees Ethan entering the room again, his eyes glistening with pride and hope, smiling, he knows is not his imagination.

"We made an antidote."

It feels surreal. His whole body feels lighter and suddenly a burst of laughter attacked him.

Happiness, relief. Hope.

He knew there was a chance the antidote couldn't work. But he chose to believe it would.

And then he can't stop thinking about all the things they talked through the night. All their plans, all the places they would go, all the things they would do. All the things he would say to her, but he kept inside for fear.

All the love he had to give to her.

There was so much to explore and learn with her. Life was giving both of them a second chance. Not only to Eleanor but to him too.

And then all he can do is thank. Thank to whoever accompanied him through the night. To whoever held him and filled him with hope.

To whoever put a blanket over him, to keep him warm until he reached a shelter. A safe place.

Bryce was now full of hope and optimism. With the optimism he knows so well and that comes naturally to him. He's sure everything will be alright now.

And he thanks his friends and the doctors who helped. He knows words will never be enough to thank them for what they've done, but he decides to do it on the brink of his emotions, when they are more genuine, and retributions and gratefulness is all that people need after such a long night giving everything of themselves to find the antidote. To save the lives of their friends and colleagues.

The waiting in the next hours was nothing like the last one. They're full of hope.

Benjamin joined him in the room once he gave his parents the news. After a while he forced him, with the same persuasion and stubbornness that Eleanor would do, to take a break.

"Bryce, you should have some rest."

"I can't leave her side."

"I get it, I really do, but at least you should take some air, eat something, have a coffee. You haven't left the room in like ten hours. I'm sure you wanna be in your best conditions when Eleanor wakes up and not pass out of exhaustion after five minutes."

Bryce stared at Benjamin, the determination set in his eyes was the same he had found so many times in Eleanor's. Where would that come from? From their mother or their father? Hopefully, he was expecting to find it out that night.

An hour later, after catching up with his friends in the cafeteria and calling Keiki to give her the news, he returned to the room with renewed energy and a lot more confident than before.

It only takes him a minute to start talking with Benjamin as if they were old friends.

Hours flied by.

"Man, I'm not saying that Kobe doesn't have his merits, but let's be honest: without Michael Jordan, there is no Kobe."—Bryce stated, both sitting in chairs at the end of the bed.

"But we are not discussing who came first or their legacies, we are discussing objective facts. For example, Kobe beats Michael in career poin-"

"Shut up you two, we all know Lebron James is better than Michael and Kobe."

Bryce and Benjamin's eyes widened in shock and turned to the bed, where Eleanor was awake and smiling.

"Andrew! You're awake!"—Benjamin jumped up toward her side and hugged her affectionately. –"I'm so happy to see you okay, sis."

"And I'm glad to see you again, bebé."

Bryce sat on the other side of the bed and caressed her cheek.

"Hey, babe."

"Hey."—She smirked—"I should've asked you if you were team Kobe or team Jordan before agreeing to be your girlfriend but… I think it's too late to give you back now."

Bryce chuckled, giving Benjamin an amusing glance.

"I'm sure we'll be able to keep the debate on civil terms, right, Benji?

"Absolutely."

"How are you, beautiful?"

"I'm feeling… surprisingly good. Did they change the treatment?"

"No, must be the antidote that's working. And probably you're still high for the morphine."

"Did you say antidote?"

Eleanor was a mix of confusion and amazement.

"Yeah. The team created an antidote. They injected it like… about four hours ago."

"And why didn't you wake me up?"

"Because Baz put you to sleep, you don't remember?"

"No? What happened?"

Bryce looked at Benjamin who shook his head subtly.

"You were in deep pain, so Baz put a higher dose of morphine. It would have been like… humanly impossible to wake you up considering the dose."

Eleanor frowned.

"I don't remember any of it, honestly. How deep are we talking about?"

"You reached a nine, but the Team came quickly so you didn't suffer too much."

"A nine? Shit. That's pretty bad. Maybe that's why I don't remember a thing. "

"And you had a fever too."

She nodded.

"And how they did it? The antidote, I mean."

"In simple terms, they created a compound that binds to the maitotoxin and prevents it from attaching to the plasma membranes. So far has worked very well and your levels of the toxin had decreased significantly since the administration."

"And they beat the stupid Government. How embarrassing—She giggled., and how has worked with the boys?"

"They are still in a coma, but their levels had dropped too. Very slowly, though."

"I'm glad Danny is still with us. I really thought he would…"—Eleanor shook her head—"He's such a fighter."

"Yes. You all are, Elle."

"What about mom and dad, Benji? Have you spoken to them today?"

"Early in the morning, before they took their flight here. And luckily for them, they were at a stop in Lima when the news of the antidote came, so I texted them right away. They'll arrive at about 11 pm."

"Great. Great. Poor things, at least they are traveling knowing the worst has passed."—Benji nodded—"And you, kiddo, have had some rest?"

"Yeah, I could sleep a few hours during the night, but then I went to Lab to see how was the searching. It was really impressive watching all those brilliant minds working."

"Oh, yeah. I would've loved seeing Ethan working with Tobias. Those to hate each other, you know? I don't know how their egos fit the room."

Eleanor laughed, imagining the picture.

"And what about you, mister?"—He directed to Bryce—"I got the feeling you didn't sleep a wink last night."

"I didn't. I had to monitor you, but I went for a coffee and some food a few hours ago under the strict orders of my very good friend Benjamin."

"You're the best, Benji, thank you for taking care of him for me."— Eleanor squeezed his hand approvingly and blow him a kiss.—"Well then. Now that I'm feeling better, and under my strict orders, you're gonna go home, have some sleep, and spend a few hours with your sister, alright?"

"But babe... I ca-"

"Bryce Golden Lahela. I know you want to stay with me, and I swear if I were in your position I'd never want to leave your side, but please, pretty please, do this for me, okay? I bet you haven't seen Keiki since when…? the day before yesterday? Because I'm sure she was completely asleep when you left your apartment yesterday morning"

"Yeah, she was."—Bryce replied sheepishly.

Eleanor was still weak, and he could tell she was doing an incredible amount of effort to stay lucid and strong, but even like that, she had enough energy and strength to take care of him and Keiki. That selfless side of her would always marvel him.

"Please, I'd feel a lot better if you go to sleep and spend the afternoon with Keiki. But…"—She stared at him seriously and then her whole face transfigured in a wicked, almost psycho, smile—"If you don't do it, don't worry, honey, I won't be mad, but I'll kick you out of my room."

Benjamin giggled.

"Dude, do as she says. You know she means it literally, right? Because I'm already seeing her getting up from the bed and kicking your ass."

"Okay, okay, I'll go."—Bryce stood up from the bed, lifting his hands in surrender—"There's no need to use violence. Any special message for your beloved Keiki?"

"Yes, tell her I'm sorry I had to borrow his brother for too long and that I hope I can see her soon because I miss her."

"Yes ma'am."

When Bryce opened the door of his apartment, the smell of sauteed veggies gave him a warm welcome.

It'd always cheered him up having his sister receiving him when he got home, but today was different. Today he was grateful for having her after the living nightmare he had been into in the last 24 hours. Her sole presence was enough to soothe him.

"Bryce?"—Keiki poked her head out of the kitchen and then ran towards him.—"Ohmygod, what are you doing here? Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, everything's okay, don't worry. Elle's awake and getting better. She's so well that…—He chuckled, collapsing on the couch.—" she made me come here to see you and have some sleep. She was worried you were too much time alone… And she's right, of course. I'm sorry Keiki, I know how abandoned you must have felt."

Keiki shook her head, sitting beside him.

"It's okay, Bryce. You needed to be with her, I totally get it. Not knowing what was happening was worse."

"I know."—He gave him a sad smile.

"Do you wanna have lunch? I have mashed potatoes pie in the oven. It should be ready in like twenty-five minutes."

"Ooh, are you serious? The one you cooked the other day? Because that was superb, Keiks"

"Yeah, the same. I actually was thinking about bringing you some to the hospital. I know you told me not to go, but…"—She gave him a sheepishly smile, shrugging, but before she could continue, Bryce hugged her, warm and tightly.—"Woah, woah, is just mashed potatoes and ground beef, no need to do such fuss."—She added instantly, patting him nervously in the back.

"Keiki, I was an ass with you for years, and now you're taking care of me like this? I don't deserve it."

"Nonsense. You know we are okay now, and you care a lot about me too, this is nothing."

Seeing Benjamin and Eleanor together had put a lot of things in perspective for him. How caring they were to each other had reminded him of his own relationship with Keiki before he moved to California. They were very close, so close, that he had no doubt that if he hadn't distanced himself the way he did, they wouldn't be much different from how Elle and Benji were.

Even if she was a six-year-old princess living in a fantasy world and he was a teenager soon-to-be a college student, they used to spend a lot of time together back in Maui. Entire days at the beach, swimming, playing hide and seek, playing tag, building sandcastles, doing races, finding forms in the clouds during the day, and looking at the stars at night.

He even learned about constellations just because she liked the stars.

But all that ended when he left and never came back.

He knew closeness and affection were still there, even if had passed ten years, even if she wasn't a kid anymore, but a teenager with a strong character that pretended to be too cool for affection. Because if it weren't like that, Keiki wouldn't have risked what she risked at coming to Boston. She wouldn't have forgiven him how she did weeks ago, and things wouldn't be as good as they were now.

After all those years, Bryce was still her refuge. The only person she could come to. And after all those years, Keiki still managed to bring out the best of him. She was making him thrive to become a better brother, a better man.

"What is it?"—She asked, as Bryce was staring at her tenderly.

"Nothing, I was just remembering those days at the beach. You were so little, and you're so grown up now… and you're even taking care of me when I should be the one taking care of you…"

She smiled sheepishly at him again.

"That's what siblings do."

"That's what I should've done in all these years and I didn't, and what I should be doing now…"

"Bryce, how many times I have to tell you…?"

"Okay, okay, I won't say it again. But… the thing is..."

He breathed. It wasn't easy for him. In fact, he used to avoid at all costs this kind of conversation because there were still a lot of issues he had to resolve with himself, but he felt like he had to say it now, without thinking it too much.

"What?"

"Look… I know things cannot be like they were before, but… I want you to know that you're the most important person in the world to me, Keiki, even if it seemed otherwise for ten years. Nothing has changed between you and me, okay?"

He didn't know how else to say it but in the way he was feeling it.

And for the first time in weeks, Bryce saw Keiki let her guard down. Her eyes swelled with tears at the mention of those memories at the beach, but after hearing his last words, her lips quivered.

"Okay,"—She said, wiping a tear from her eye—"But, gosh, what's gotten into you?"

What had gotten into him was that almost losing Eleanor also put a lot in perspective regarding how much he kept to himself. And he couldn't let that happen, let alone with Keiki. She deserved better. She deserved so much more than what their parents (poorly) had given to them, emotionally and affectively. He had to make things right, starting now.

"I love you, Keiki."—Before a sob could escape from her mouth, Bryce hugged her again, this time more tightly. –"Don't you ever doubt about it, okay? And please remember that, at heart, we are the same Bryce and Keiki playing on the beach. No matter the years."

He felt her fighting the sobs, but then she just let it flow.

"I love you too, Bryce."

Bryce breathed contently at hearing those words. That's all that he needed to hear.

After several seconds, Keiki parted from him, wiping the trace of tears off her face.

"This is a one-time bonding moment, right? Because if you're going to be this cheesy and make me cry everyday…"

Bryce chuckled.

"No, no. I know this is not your thing. This is just for today, a cathartic moment after what happened with Elle. But now we return to our regular sibling's relationship, where I'm obviously the cool one."

"HA! Dream on, Bryce. Let me inform you that today I award you with the title of the weirdest and most sentimental brother of the year."

He smiled fondly.

"I guess that makes me even cooler. I'm a total winner. Thank you, sis."

"No! You're the… You know what? Nevermind. After what you did yesterday with Kyra, and considering you're a very caring boyfriend with Ella, yeah, I'll let you be the cooler sibling, but only for this week."

"Oh, thank you for your generosity, loser."

Keiki rolled her eyes, and before sauntering to the kitchen, she ruffled his hair affectionately.

"Take a shower, weirdo. By the time you finish with all your beauty care routines, lunch will be ready."

He wasn't sure how many times he'd pleaded for that moment, how many times he'd imagined it on his mind, but it was finally happening. And it felt a thousand times better.

Bryce opened the door of Eleanor's room just as he had arrived at Edenbrook. With a navy-blue hoodie, light-blue jeans, and black and white sneakers. No hazmat suit, no gloves, nothing.

She was asleep. Her chest was moving harmoniously under the sheets, and the vitals on the monitor were almost on normal levels.

She was alright.

He walked to the other side of the bed and carefully laid behind her, placing an arm around her waist. She wasn't as cold as in the morning but still wasn't at her usual warmth. He buried his nose in the crook of her neck and breathed deeply, smelling the natural scent of her body mixed with some very faintly remnants of her shampoo. The sweetness of the pomegranate added even more joy to the fact she was safe.

His hot breath must have woken her up because, after a few seconds lost in her scent, she started stirring on the bed until she finally turned around and faced him.

"I'm dreaming? Why you're not using the hazmat suit?"—She muttered in a slurry voice, looking equally surprised and confused.

He smiled, sliding his index over her cheek softly.

"No, you're very much awake. And safe. Toxin-free safe."

"Toxin-free? Are you for real?"

"Absolutely, the last two blood tests have shown you have no traces of the toxin in your bloodstream."

"Oh my god, I can't believe it… I thought I would die here…"

"And I told you you would live."

"Yeah, and I've never been happier to be wrong."

They both chuckled

"And I've never been happier to be right."

After a moment, Eleanor started caressing his just shaved and very smooth cheek, but suddenly, she stopped, staring at him expectantly.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Are you gonna kiss me or not?"

"I was just letting you contemplate me, I'm sure you missed touching this flawless skin."

She snorted.

"I know last night I said I don't find you cocky anymore, but I can change my mind any minute, you know?"

"But you won't."

Bryce parted from her slightly and took his phone out of the pocket of his jeans. He scrolled a few seconds and then a piano melody started playing.

"Is that…?"

When I fall in love it will be forever

Or I'll never fall in love

"You said you wanted a kiss just like Isabella's…"

"Oh my god, I should've known you'd do this."

She placed her hands around his neck.

"The problem is… If I remember this right… you were the one who kissed me that night…"

"Yes, now you will. Period. You're talking too much."

"Now you realize I talk too much?!"

"Bryceeeeeee"

He laughed heartly.

"Okay, okay, miss impatience..."

Bryce tightened the grip around her waist and placed a hand over her cheek. After a few seconds of looking deeply into her amber eyes, he brushed his lips over hers. It was sweet and slow at first, but then he deepened the kiss, capturing her lips in his teeth and playing with her tongue just as she liked it.

Eleanor wanted a kiss like the one at Isabella's, but so much had changed since then, so much he had learned since then.

He knew the way she liked his kisses, how much pressure to use or how deep his tongue could go, so he was going to give her exactly that, a dreamy kiss, because honestly, he didn't know any other way.

After several seconds, he parted from her.

"Happy now?"

"Mmm… I'm not sure… Maybe you can give me another taste?"

He shook his head and kissed her again, harder. And this time he left her breathless, and giggling, and with the goofiest smile he had ever seen in her.

"Wow. 100/10."

"I'm amazing, I know."

And then, she couldn't help but look at him adoringly. Because yes, yes, he was indeed amazing. And she was completely in love with that amazing man.

"Te amo."—She said with warm candor, and then kissed him enthusiastically and incessantly for several seconds. –"I love you... god, I love you so much… Telling I was in love with you… without being able to kiss you… was a nightmare! But now I can... Finally…Kiss you…As much… as I want…"

Once she stopped, Bryce looked at her, marveled.

"What? Too much?"

He shook his head, biting his lower lip.

"No, it's perfect. Feel free to act like that whenever you want."—He kissed her forehead—"I love you, beautiful."

After receiving the official information from Ethan, June, and Baz, and being filled with kisses and hugs from Benjamin, Bryce wheeled her to her new room so she could take a shower. She didn't want to spend another second in that damned room.

"This is mine?"—Eleanor asked, inspecting the light blue bag over the bed.

"Yeah, I swung by your apartment before coming here, I thought you would need some fresh clothes."

Eleanor stood up with difficulty and wrapped him in her arms lovingly.

"Thank you, my love."

He smiled, melting by the words, but before he could say anything, she clung to him clumsily. Her legs failed her.

"Mmm, I think someone's going to need some help in the shower."

"Ooops, too bad that someone has a boyfriend with magic hands to help her."—She replied teasingly.

"C'mon, princess."—He whispered, picking her up in his arms and taking her to the bathroom.

Once he collected her shampoo and conditioner from the bag, he returned to the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

When Eleanor looked up at him, he felt the air changed instantly.

It's the intimacy.

The formula is simple. It has always been simple between them. It's just the two of them present at the moment. Whether they're alone or in a group, it doesn't matter. It can happen anywhere. It could be just an intense look; a simple touch; even a hug without saying a word. They only need to be focused on each other.

Bryce took a few steps until his lips were inches apart from hers. His hand took with precision the hook of her gown, and after untangling it, he threw it to the floor.

When his hands touched her waist, her whole body trembled, and a soft moan escaped her mouth, but soon she shut herself up by kissing Bryce delicately, sinking a hand under his shirt, craving for his skin. He conceded to her desires instantly, of course. After tugging his hoodie and shirt out, Eleanor roamed her hands roam over his bare chest, and leaving a trail of kisses up his chest, until she reached his jaw.

The heat radiating from his body had always soothed her. Even before realizing she was in love with him, being in his arms was her favorite place in the world. But when Bryce pulled her closer, enveloping her arms around the small of her back, and pressed her body flush to his, this time, Eleanor felt like she was coming home.

He wasn't her favorite spot anymore.

He was her home.

The supreme feeling of comfort and tranquility. A safe haven where she could be herself and where she's the happiest.

And where she can be at her lowest too. So she let it all go.

She let go of all her fears, all the what-ifs that had been torturing her mind; all those questions wondering how much she would've missed…

Millions of kisses and hugs; thousands of showers together; thousands of hours of amazing sex; thousands of nights talking, drinking, dancing. Adventures. Movies, movies interrupted by his unstoppable talking, by his kisses, by his innuendos. Sleepovers on the couch with Keiki. Countless moments just staring at each other without saying a word, because sometimes even for Bryce words wouldn't be necessary.

She wouldn't have lived the life she wanted to have with him. The future she wanted with him. She couldn't have known him as she always wanted, with all his wonders and terrors.

A sob echoed in the immaculate bathroom. Bryce gripped her more firmly to calm her shaky body.

The idea of dying with so much left to give was devastating.

Because she was so full of love. The moment she realized she was in love with Bryce she felt like she was going to burst. When she told him she was in love, she was choking with words because her heart inside was bursting with her purest feelings and sensations. And thinking that she could've died without giving him everything she wanted to give him, without giving him everything he deserved, was maddening.

Even if it was in the past, the fear was still too vivid.

"Let it go, love, I got you"—He whispered, his hands always drawing soft patterns on her head and back.

Love.

She could've missed that too. Bryce calling her love. Bryce calling her in so many ways.

She had always wished for a beautiful love, just like their parents had, but for some reason, it was always out of her reach despite her best efforts. And she could've died without experience it to the fullest with him. With the most wonderful person in the world.

Eleanor wrapped him more tightly, as if she's scared that he could go any minute now.

"I'm here for you and I'll always be, babe. We have now a whole life ahead of us to do everything we dreamed last night, that and much more."

How? How could he know what she was thinking? How he could know her so well?

"But… we need to start somewhere, right?-- —He whispered, pulling her gently from him.—"We need to start with something small."

He looked into her puffy and reddened face and wiped the tears off her face.

"We'll start with a shower. You need to get rid of all the traces of that fucking toxin. You'll let me take care of you, and then, if you want, we can make a visit to see Kyra and the rest of our friends, who must be waiting for you expectantly to fill you with hugs and tons of love."

"I'd like that."—She replied softly.

"Perfect."—He said before leaning in the shower to turn the faucet on.

After a few seconds, Bryce led her to the shower, and both hummed at the feeling of the hot water running through their bodies. Then he turned and looked at her, deeply.

"Are you feeling better, gorgeous?"—He asked softly and sweetly

"Yeah, so much better. Thank you, my love."

He chuckled and then bit his lower lip.

"God, I love it when you call me like that"

"My love? Well, you are my love."

"Yeah, I guess it's just that… now I understand why you were so reluctant to all this pet name situation."

"Yup, I wanted to say it just when I was 100% sure I was in love with you."

"Makes sense. Now I feel guilty for being too annoying with it."

"You're a Goldie, being annoying is part of your DNA."

He raised an eyebrow, seriously.

"But don't worry, my love is my main pet name for you now. And mi amor. Or maybe you prefer that in the first place?"

Bryce narrowed his eyes, thoughtfully.

"Tough question. I like that too, Spanish sounds so sexy in your mouth."

She smiled mischievously and then planted a chaste kiss on his lips.

"Te amo, mi amor"

"Feel free to call me however you want, but I'm warning you, I feel things when you speak to me in Spanish."

"What kind of things, mi amor?"

Bryce roamed his hands over her back until he reached her tights. Then, he lifted her effortlessly in his arms and pushed her against the wall.

"Things that… "—He kissed her hard.—"even if it's tempting to do here, I'll save it for another time. I'll create a whole kink of you speaking in Spanish in the meantime"

"Mmm, a new kink. My, oh my. I'll exercise my pronunciation, then, because it has gotten a little rusty over the years."

She kissed him hard this time, pressing her legs and heels against his back.

"Okay, as much as I want to keep going, let's slow it down, babe. We should be doing some cleaning, you know? Or you'll stay as a koala indefinitely?"

She giggled.

"Yes, I'm a koala now."

"Oh, well, then thank you for simplifying me the choice. I was always divided between calling you a sloth or a koala, but koala is perfect. It wouldn't be too romantic of me calling you a sloth."

Both cackled.

"Only in the bed."

"Specify that? In bed like sleeping or like…—He raised his brows suggestively.

"I'm multifaceted, I can be both."

Bryce chuckled.

"Of course you can, babe."

Eventually, Eleanor gave up her dream of remaining as a koala forever and returned to her feet.

Bryce took the shampoo and massaged her scalp softly and dedicatedly, relaxing her. His hands were magical in so many ways.

Then he helped her clean some parts of her body she couldn't reach, teasing her once in a while, until she was all cleaned.

Once he dried himself up and put his clothes on, he helped Eleanor getting out of the shower and took her back to the room.

He dried her skin delicately. At first, she tried to dress up by herself, but the shower had relaxed her so much, that Eleanor finally gave up, letting Bryce taking care of her as he wanted.

Even if she was feeling a little sleepy, that didn't stop her from feeling amazed with his dedication and the tenderness with whom he was pampering her.

His soft hands spread ever so softly the cream over her arms and legs, and the massaged her so exquisite on her back, that after a while she wondered if she was actually dead and that was heaven.

Once she was all moisturized and dressed in a mint green pajama, he took the towel wrapped around her head and began combing her hair softly and delicately. At some point, she felt like she was six again, when her mum would bathe her and then comb her long wavy hair patiently until she was free of knots.

"Gosh, you could be a stylist or a massagist, and you'd do it wonderfully."—Eleanor moaned, feeling his fingers combing her hair as Bryce was directing the hairdryer to the nape of her head.

"Of course, I'd be wonderful in anything I pursue, especially with these magic hands."

After five minutes, her hair was completely dry.

"Ponytail or braid?"

"Braid."

She was about to lift her hands to make herself a braid when Bryce asked.

"French or normal?"

She turned around with her mouth agape.

"Wait, besides all your many talents, you also know how to braid?"

"Yeah, you didn't know?"—He chuckled

"No! When did you learn?"

"When Keiki was like… four?—Bryce replied as he was dividing her hair into three sections.—"She's always been bossy, you know? And one day after a day at the beach her braid was a mess, so she said: Bryze, fixit! You're a grown-up, you shud know how to braid hair... And of course, she was right! How incompetent of me not knowing how to braid hair, right? Especially since I had a little sister with very long hair."

"Awww, love, this is so cute! Little Keiki asking for a braid. I'm melting."

A couple of minutes later, Bryce took the hair bun from his wrist and use it to secure the end of the braid.

"There, my princess. All done."—He announced, kissing her crown.

Eleanor brought a hand to her hair and felt the patterns with her fingers.

"This is perfect."

"Why the tone of surprise? Of course it's perfect! I don't do anything that's below perfection."

"I know, I'm just admiring your beautiful work, love."

Bryce gathered all her things and placed them in the closet.

"Ready to see our friends?"

"Honestly? Not yet.

"Hey, you don't have to go if you don't want to. Do you want me to call the guys?"

"No, no… besides I have to go to see Kyra."

"But you don't have to if you don't feel in the mood for that."

"I know, I just want to lay down a bit with you."

"Of course, babe"—He replied, laying beside her.

Eleanor turned to his side.

"I'm completely melted inside, you know?"

"Why?"

"For the way you've taken care of me, how you pampered me… you even braided my hair…"

"It's the less I can do for you, babe. This is nothing, actually."

She kissed him on the lips and then rubbed the tip of her nose on his.

"You know, if boyfriend lottery exists, I'm sure you're the biggest prize in history, and I'm the lucky winner."

Because she could win the biggest money prize in history, but not even that could compare to the feeling of having Bryce loving her.

Nothing compares to it.

______________________

A/N2: Make Bryce even more perfect than he already is? Achievement unlocked. Like I love to hurt him (I love angst, actually) but I also love to make him more perfect and more god-tier than he already is. Pure self-indulgence here.

A/N3: As you can see, I'm cheesy/corny not only in romantic relationships but in fraternal relationships too. I have a good relationship with my brother, in fact, we have the same age difference Keiki and Bryce have, so I know firsthand the kind of relationship they could have. And I want to give them that, despite their personalities and the fact that maybe Americans, in general, are not as caring as we the Latinos but… being this caring is something you can learn, you know? So Bryce is learning that from Eleanor. Anyway, it won't be easy, Keiki and Bryce have a lot of issues to explore yet, but Bryce had to take the first step.

Thank you so much for reading. I appreciate each and every one of you for supporting my story ❤❤❤

#bryce lahela #bryce lahela x mc #bryce x mc #bryce x casey #open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfiction #choices #choices stories you play #playchoices #pixelberry

40 notes · View notes

goldencatchflies · 4 years

Text

Cherries and Strawberries

read on ao3

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 1513

Relationships: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, could be read as platonic

Characters: Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid, Emily Prentiss, Original Female Character (OFC)

Additional Tags: cottage core aesthetic coffee shop, grumpy Spencer Reid, fluff, there’s a lot of fluff, there’s a bit of teasing too, caramel coffee, strawberry pies, cherry pies, Moreid- freeform, again could be read as platonic

Summary: It was routine by now. At 8:27 am, he put on the coffee. At 8:29 am, he poured it into a mug, and added 7 spoons of sugar. He made his way back to to his desk, and set the mug on the desk next to him. At 8:30 and grumpy Spencer stumbled out of the elevator, arms crossed, making his way to his own desk.

Today was different though. Today he left a note.

It was routine by now. At 8:27 am, he put on the coffee. At 8:29 am, he poured it into a mug, and added 7 spoons of sugar. He made his way back to to his desk, and set the mug on the desk next to him. At 8:30 and grumpy Spencer stumbled out of the elevator, arms crossed, making his way to his own desk. As soon as he sits down, his head falls lifelessly on the surface in front of him. At 8:35 am, he lifts his head, and starts drinking the coffee in front of him. He doesn’t really know when he started doing this small favor for his co-worker, but it’s been going on for a few months. Today was different though. Today he left a note.

Spencer lifted his head, and as he went to grab the mug, he noticed a pink post it next to the handle.

This might not be that good, sorry pretty boy! The coffee was already made, and I didn’t want to wast it, so it might be cold, also we ran out of sugar so I put 4 of it and 3 of caramel. I’m really sorry, I’ll go out and buy one if you end up not wanting it— Der

He removed the post it, and brought the mug to his lips. It was surprisingly good, besides the fact that it was already cold. He looked at Derek, and nodded at him. He scribbled something down on a green post it, scrambled it into a little ball, and threw it at Derek. It landed in his lap, and he furrowed his eyebrows, a smile on his face as he picked it up and read it.

You are forgiven, but I still want coffee, you were right, it’s too cold, but I did like the caramel thing. I drive by a local coffee shop every morning, it’s amazing!!! I could send you the location if you’d be so kind to get me one :)

— S.

Derek chuckled, as he got up shooting Spencer a look, grabbing his leather jacket and making his way to the elevator. Spencer looked around to see that the bull pen was about half empty, and the ones that were their were either head deep in work, or playing on their phones (although the latter was only Emily that was sitting in the desk across form Derek’s). He didn’t watch the way Morgan’s ass moved as he walked away. Quickly he looked back down to his paperwork, as soon as he saw Morgan getting in the elevator and turning around-facing him.

___

Derek walked into the coffee shop, and it’s like he entered a movie. The waiters walked around in white flats, with plain white dresses to match. Their hairs were in messy buns, held up by beige scrunchies. The walls had the top half painted white, and the bottom half a light beige. There were leaves, and-very alive-flowers across the borders of the walls, and fairy lights at the top, above the large windows. There were curtains at the ends, being held by a bay pink ribbons that matched the shades of the flows that peaked out behind it. There was such a cottage core aesthetic to this coffee shop, so soft and warming, that Derek couldn’t help but feel welcome.

“Good morning! How may help you?” A very polite woman said at the other end of the counter as he walked up to it.

“Hello, can I get a large, black, caramel coffee with 4 sugars to go please?” He answered.

“Of course, anything else?” She asked as she pressed some buttons in the machine between them. He watched as the price appeared on the screen next to it—$2.50. Wow two fifty for a large coffee, no wonder Spencer likes this place. Derek thought to himself, but his attention got snatched away as soon as he noticed the bite-sized pies they had on display.

“Um... how much for two of those?” He asked, pointing to them.

“They’re free for first timers, what flavor would like?” She asked, and rung them up, the price not changing in the monitor. How does she know I’ve never been here before? He tried not to dwell on the thought, and occupied himself by answering her question.

“Cherry and Strawberry, if you’ve got those.” He gave her a smile, and she nodded, removing two from different rows, and placing them on a white paper bag with baby pink flowers drawn on it. Again with the baby pink flowers. Can’t say I blame them, thought, it is cute!

“Would that be all, sir?” She asked, handing him the bag, her politeness never leaving her voice.

“Yes, thank you!” He said reaching for his wallet, and handing her a five dollar bill. He placed the change in the white painted maison jar that had ‘tips’ written in it with such a light rifle-green shade, Derek wondered how he was able to read it so clearly. A few minutes later, she handed him the coffee on a light green paper cup, with leaf prints on it.

“Have good day!” She waved him goodbye.

“You too, ma’am!” He smiled back, as he left the coffee shop, only now noticing the pride flag waving next to the door, on the outside.

___

He walked into the bullpen with the biggest smile on his face as he made his way to Spencer. He sat at the corner of his friend’s desk, and placed the coffee and the bag next to him. Spencer didn’t miss the happiness written all over the other man.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” He said, a grumpiness was still present in his tone, but he wasn’t as grumpy anymore. He picked up the coffee, and brought it to his lips, looking up at Derek through his lashes, before he closed his eyes and happily hummed into his beverage.

“I don’t know... something about that coffee shop, it was so...” he trailed off as he looked around, staring at nothing specifically.

“Yeah, I know...” Spencer responded, setting the cup down, and grabbing the bag in front of him. “What else did you get?”

“Cherry and Strawberry mini pies.” He answered, as Reid pulled them both out of the white bag. They had ‘cherry’ and ‘strawberry’ decoratively written on them with red, and pink-what Spencer could only assume was-food coloring markers. They looked so cute, that Spencer could stare at them for hours, if he wasn’t so hungry. “I know you like strawberry pies, so I got you that one, to see if you’d stop being so grumpy.” Derek said with playful smirk on his face, and he grabbed the cherry pie and took a bite of it—surprised at how good it tasted.

Derek wasn’t really a fan of pies, he was more of cake guy himself, but this? This was so good, Derek thought he might combust! And, plus, it was free. Spencer rolled his eyes at the comment, but couldn’t help the smile splattered across his lips. He took a bite of his own strawberry pie, and furrowed his brows immediately.

“Mmm! That amazing!” He said, covering his mouth his free hand, then moving to grab the coffee once again. “I had never tried one of those, how much was it?” He asked, and just like that, all that grumpiness was gone.

“Free for first-timers!” Derek said, scrambling the flowery napkin that came with their treats, shooting, and scoring in the trash of his own desk. He gave a small cheer, and though Spencer shook his head in fake-annoyance, he couldn’t stop smiling at the man sitting on his desk. “How’s the coffee?” He asked him.

“Meh, it’s ok...” he said, with a shit-eating grin.

“Ok? Why, not enough sweetness?” Derek teased.

“No, there’s enough sweetness.” He said matter-of-factly. “But you didn’t make it, so...” he leaned forward, looking up at Derek, the grin not dropping for one second. Where he’d gotten this sudden burst of confidence? He had no idea, but he wasn’t about to let it go to waste. Derek raised his eyebrows, and chuckled playfully.

“I see...” he said placing a soft kiss to Spencer’s cheek as he slipped off his desk, and made his way to his own. Spencer’s face turned a strong shade of peach, as that confidence slipped away, rather too quickly for his taste. He finished the—actually amazing coffee, he lied before—and tossing it out along with the bag and two napkins that were left.

And that was their new routine. Derek makes coffee, Spencer arrives, and during the five minutes of morning procrastination, Derek went to buy two pies for them. He got back, they ate the pies at Spencer’s desk and got to work. When they were way on cases, Derek made sure to get each of them a full sized pie once they came back. It was their own thing, and if others thought anything of it no one dared to comment.

#maggie writes 😛#cm #cm fan fiction #cm fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #moreid #sperek #spencer x derek #fanfic #fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #moreid fanfic #moerid fic #sperek fanfic #maggie writes #maggies fics

32 notes · View notes

enchystemporarydomain · 4 years

Text

A quick story wrapped around an idea I had. It involves superheroes, but is mostly about a budding BDSM fetish… I have a few more ideas for these particular characters, exploring a Super, Mortal relationship...

I’m reposting this because I can’t find it on my other blogs...

A blue cape of smooth material. with a lustrous gold frame, connected to a massive frame of muscle. She was wrapped in white kevlar from neck to ankle, and stood on sturdy black boots with blue soles and rims. No symbol upon her breast just yet, as she was fairly new on the super block, but aside from so there was no doubt she was a fully fledged, capable powerhouse. She walked across the small bunker room in pronounced, careful strides, her hands balled into fists. Her gaze focused.

She tossed her hair back and posed. And smirked.

Watching her was a man dressed in black. His ensemble was practical and protective but not without aesthetic appeal. The black bulletproof vest could be overlooked altogether thanks to the much more noticeable sleek shoulder pads and electronic gauntlets. He wore unusual sunglasses with rims made of some sort of technology and dark red lenses. Where his partner exemplified strength and power with her muscular frame and walk, his ensemble painted the picture of the mechanical and engineering genius he was.

He watched his partner-slash-boss and laughed as she posed. She joined as well, obviously cheery about testing out her new uniform.

“Man, what even is that hair flip?” he said. “I said show me your power pose.”

“Hey! I will do a hairflip when I see my enemy,” she said.

“Oh? Is your hair bulletproof too? Parry bullets?”

The two had a laugh, admiring their new uniform. They were somewhat frightened inside about their job. As upcoming supers their first job was incredibly important if they wanted to be recognized by the major organizations. Fighting supervillains and street criminals was a service to the people and definitely a noble idea, but they also needed to eat and pay bills and the Justice Ensemble offered grants, loans, and benefits.

The two made their way out of the secretly enormous bunker beneath their basement (hidden via a door behind a shelf) and got ready to pursue a lead.

“I mean this legitimately, though,” the lady said, smiling down at her much smaller partner. “I really do love the outfit. To be able to weave not just program nanomachines but weave them into stylish nylon and kevlar… it’s amazing I found you with just a Craigslist Ad.”

“It’s what I do,” he responded, wishing he could think up a cooler quote.

“And you do it much too well for what I’m paying you,” she said, guiltily. “Anyway, hop on my back. I’m flying us.”

“Alright, Madame Bolt!”

“Strap on tight, Puma.”

*** *** ***

Grant had been a medium fish in a small pond back in his home town. An engineer working at his uncle’s garage work. With the internet he had access to fellow geniuses. Cliques of talented, gifted engineers to whom the greatest goal in life was being hired by a fantastic tech firm. Worshipers of tech giants like Bill Gates, or Hurrit Akkar (known among the hero world as a cold villain).

Grant had different dreams. Not bigger or necessarily more ambitious dreams but great dreams. He idolized the controversial supers of the world. The Justice Ensemble, Do Gooders United, Robots For Justice, and all that they did. He had a few years of vigilantism under his belt in the small crime filled towns of North Ontario.

He wasn’t quite sure what was it that made him make the leap, though. A craigslist ad written by an otherwise unknown superheroine looking for an engineer to design suits? The job would take him to America, relatively far from his home, and would be an incredible risk. What if the start up duo never made it to the big time? What if the money dried up and he was left stranded here? What if his employer was incompetent? What if he was incompetent? So many risks, and yet he took the chance anyway.

Now, holding steady on his new partner’s back, flying over the buildings of Candesfinning City wearing his beautifully designed outfits, the wind in his hair, Grant put away all of the worries in his mind. They still had a long way to go, but the thrill and excitement was intoxicating.

They landed in front of the buildings they knew their targets, a low level cartel base, to be residing in.

Alicia, super name Madame Bolt, set Grant down.

“Alright, Puma,” she said, holding back a grin. This was the first time they were using their super identities, so the campy ridiculousness was still fresh in mind. “I’ll do all of the fighting. Follow behind me, but not too close.”

“Got it, Madame,” Grant said.

*** *** ***

Super fast, bulletproof, and strong enough to easily bench over two thousand kilograms, the low level street gang didn’t stand a chance. Alicia had such a handle on the situation that even when stray bullet was fired in Grant’s direction, a potentially devastating tragedy, she saw it moving as slow as a floating slug and stopped it.

It would have struck Grant in his specially designed bulletproof suit, but he was still happy he didn’t have to take that risk.

With the gangsters taken care of (most of them hired teens plucked from the streets and only five armed adults), and the evidence of illegal firearms and drugs gathered, Grant hacked the three computers in the building. It was an easy job: even without his advanced equipment these cpus had no firewalls in place. Alicia was watching over his shoulder. She must have been expecting more quick-typing and code on screen because, judging by her face reflection on the monitor, she was somewhat disappointed.

“Nothing big. However, in one of their emails they let slip something about 821 Glasglow Island. A meeting between them and another organization, though they were careful enough not to be specific.” Grant said. “I think we should leave that to the feds, perhaps?”

Alicia shook her head.

“We can handle this better than any feds. Gasglow Island is just a few kilometers east from the piers,” she said.

“In that case we could head their right away, if you like-!”

The two of them heard police sirens outside. Alicia swallowed, nervous. There were rules about supers taking the law into their own hands, and so far the two of them hadn’t stepped of line according to them. However…

“...Do you want to make yourself known?” Grant asked his boss.

“No. Let’s get out of here,” she said.

“Okay. Want me to hop on?” Grant unplugged his USB drive and put it away.

“Nope. Stay still.”

“What do you-?”

Before Grant could get a word in edgewise, Alicia’s cape had expanded in size. It’s nanomachines, designed by he himself, manipulated the fabric and bound around Grant. His arms wrapped together in a tight, inescapable hold, then bound to his sides. His entire body, like a mummy in blue and gold. Shocked and helpless, Grant could only give out muffled cries.

He felt himself being picked up by his larger boss. She held him tightly against him, almost protectively. She was gently holding the back of his head as one would an infant, and another on his thighs, ignoring his squirming.

“Stay still, this is going to be incredibly quick,” she whispered, before lifting up off the ground.

She hopped out the window with Grant bound and in tow, then fled at incredible speed.

*** *** ***

She let him down at the island less than a minute later. Though she set him down feet first as carefully as she could he still fell on all fours.

“Grant! I’m so sorry,” she said, helping up.

“I… I just need a moment… Woof!” he said, catching his breath. Being bound caught him off guard. And now… he was on Gasglow island now? How?

“I’m sorry, Grant. I didn’t have time to explain. It’s dangerous for a normal person to accelerate as quickly as I can so… So I used the cape you made for me to protect you,” she said. “It was entirely necessary.”

“Alice, it’s… it’s fine. I was just shocked…” Grant said. He was blushing rather hard and turned his back to her. Alice raised an eyebrow at this.

“Grant? You’re not hurt, are you?” She reached for his shoulder but he stepped forward.

“No, I’m fine. It was just frightening. Er…” He cleared his throat. “Are… are we going to have to do that everytime you have to fly me really fast?”

Alice shrugged. “Well… I personally don’t mind. It’s the most effective method we have right now and it doesn’t hinder me in any way. But if you don’t like it maybe we can workshop it? You can whip something up?”

Grant nodded, rubbing his hands together in a way Alice hadn’t seen him do before.

“Yeah. We’ll do that for now. Maybe I’ll invent a neck brace or something,” he said. He cleared his throat. “So… this is the island. Should we look up this warehouse and see what the mob wants with it?”

Alicia didn’t answer for a moment. She was watching him, curious about how he was acting… He prayed she wasn’t putting two and two together.

Then she smiled. “Yes. Let’s go.”

She lead the way. Grant sighed and followed her from behind.

*** *** ***

The warehouse, it turned out, was fairly simplistic. No security cameras or even guards. A great many creates full of wrapped goods. Most of them legally owned by, presumably, one of the mob higher ups. But using Grant’s X-Ray tools and Alicia’s speed (and immunity to X-Ray radiation, thankfully) they found a crate of bullets hidden deep in one of the crates, beneath old boxes of cloths and linen. One quick anonymous picture sent to the feds and the two of them left.

Alicia tapped Grant on the shoulder before they left.

“I want to leave as quick as we can, less we’re sighted here and the mob will change tactics before the feds can investigate,”” she said. She beckoned for him to get into her cape.

Grant swallowed.

“Yeah… yeah sure. Just…” He stiffened and turned around. “Go ahead.”

Alicia smirked and wrapped him up in her cape. She held him firmly but carefully. And then they were off, faster than a speeding jet.

*** *** ***

As the weeks proceeded and the two spent almost every day zooming from place to place, Grant began to feel a bit more in his nature. Seeing his tools being used to take down monstrous organizations and help the needy made him happier and more excited than he ever dared. Alicia was similarly giddy, with every successful day celebrated at their home base (currently a modified house’s basement) with chinese food and netflix.

It seemed the city had caught on that it had two new vigilantes to worry of (not that they were hiding this at all). Simply by leaving some clues about their names, usually via cleaned, finger print-free notes with their signatures, the two of them had managed to spread the name Madame Bolt and Puma quite far in such a short time.

They still hadn’t decided on an insignia for Madame Bolt’s costume yet, however. They haven’t allowed anyone aside their enemies to even see them yet, so there wasn’t much to present on that front anyways.

One thing Grant still had to get used to was… the travel…

When they flew, generally she would allow him to ride on her back. It would be an awkward position, but the two acknowledged that it was the most efficient way to travel and they were mature about it. The cape between their bodies made the mode of travel less awkward as well, keeping them apart.

It was when a quick escape was needed where things were a bit… uncomfortable. Or rather, and Grant still had barely admitted this to himself yet, entirely too comfortable. Alicia would wrap her bolt all around his body so tight snug… She would cradle his body against her own, supporting the weaker man… And each time it felt much too nice. Much too comfortable.

And, damn it, it was far too arousing...

Grant was certain it would make Alicia far too uncomfortable if she found out just how much he was starting to like it. Would she fire him and find a less… awkward tech guy? Alicia, the great Madame Bolt, his boss and partner, seemed more like a roommate and friend these past few weeks, but he wasn’t so sure their companionship would withstand the test of… whatever this even was.

Little did he know, Alicia knew more than she was letting on…

*** *** ***

“Alicia? What’s the matter?”

Grant had come out of the little tool lab he had in the bunker to see the blonde avenger staring contemplatively at nothing. He sat down in front of her and leaned foreward. She sighed.

“Grant… Are we ever going to show ourselves to the public?” she wondered aloud.

Grant nodded, thinking it over. He knew this was going to be something they needed to speak about soon. He let her continue.

“I mean… I know it’s my fault, I’m sorry. I mean, you work so hard. Not just making the tools but managing our brand… leaving those little notes and making sure the police see us as allies… And we need to go public one day if we’re ever to attract funding and attention…”

Grant looked over to the trash bin. Filled to the top with take out boxes and fast food bags.

“The funding would be nice,” he admitted. Alicia nodded. She looked so apologetic it hurt Grant.

“Grant… Right now we’re just vigilantes, and I know we have to move on upward to public crime fighting eventually. And though I have the budget to keep going as we are now for a while longer, I don’t want to put you through this if you don’t want,” she said. “I’m sorry that you’re stuck here. You have such talent…”

“Do not apologize,” he said, firmly. “Is the idea of going public really stressing you out?”

She nodded and sighed, leaning back on her chair. Though still muscular and strong, it would be difficult to tell this was the great Madame Bolt herself. The same Madame Bolt who was invincible, powerful, walked with grace and flipped her hair with gusto.

“Yeah, it is. I just don’t feel ready for it. Truth be told, even being an underground vigilante has been a huge step forward. I… I most likely would never have been able to do what we’ve been doing without your support. Not to… you know, guilt you into staying,” she quickly said.

“I want to stay,” Grant said, rather firmly. “If… if you want to keep being a vigilante instead of a full on hero, I’ll stay right here with you.”

Alicia looked surprised. She smiled. “Really? But why?”

“Because… Well… We do important work. But to be honest, that’s not all. Um…” Grant found himself becoming a tad sheepish. He willed himself forward… “Whenever I see you work… Whenever we’re flying across the city, and we solve a crime, it’s amazing. And you let me share in the feeling… of… you know… being a strong hero. I feel like I’ve done more here in this city with you in the past weeks than I ever got done on my own. I’m thankful you let me be a part of this.”

Alicia didn’t say anything, but her expression softened. Her hand crept closer to his own, though Grant didn’t notice and stood up, retracting it. She looked disappointed.

“I mean, we can stay anonymous if you want. I’ll have to take up a part time job, maybe make some extra cash on the side for us. Not sure where I’d-!”

Alicia had, with tremendous arm strength, slid the table between them out of the way and grasped him. She kissed him then and there, holding him tight. Grant closed his eyes, letting go of his thoughts and letting himself enjoy this…

They separated and looked at each other. He looked up at her, and she down at him. They said nothing for a moment. Then Alicia whispered…

“The bunker room…”

*** *** ***

She threw him down onto the queen sized bed. She chuckled as she crawled over him, letting her long blonde hair drape down over his body. Grant, in turn, reached up to stroke and feel her muscled sides and arms. He grasped at her shirt and reached up to kiss her again.She responded vigorously.

Her knees surrounded him on both sides. Then she got down and pressed her whole body down on him. Since he was much shorter, however, her hips made it only to his thighs. Frustrated, she curled up again, splitting her knees outward so she could comfortably rest her hips over him. Nice and comfortable, and obscenely intimate. She kissed him while holding him down this way.

Grant needed to vocally mumble for her to stop, so he could remove his shirt and shorts. She was halfway doing the same.

“Alicia… don’t kill me, okay?” he whispered to her, half jokingly. She laughed.

“Oh no no, I’ll keep you nice and safe…” she said. Then she stopped trying to remove her shirt. Her expression became thoughtful again.

“Is something the matter?” Grant said. He worried if, maybe, she was already regretting this…

“Stay here…” she said. She got off of him (which disappointed him greatly) and walked out of the room…

*** *** ***

A minute later she came back in… in full hero uniform. Grant smiled at her return, but his face fell a bit when he noticed what she was wearing…

She grinned mischievously, waving the blue and gold cape around…

“Not fair,” he whimpered. “You get to be Madame Bolt?”

“Well, I personally think Puma’s costume is too, well, hard and rough for bed,” Alicia said, walking back to the bed. She let the cape drape along Grant, who swallowed nervous. His erection, which was already quite visible, seemed to tighten and grow right then and he knew she could see it… There was no kevlar armor to hide it this time…

“But I know that my costume can be a bit more… enticing…” she said. She bent down and lifted his feet. He watched curious… and then in horror and excitement when she wrapped her cape around his feet, binding them tight together just over the ankle… Like rich, nylon socks…

“...You knew?” Grant said.

“Of course. It was so obvious,” she whispered, letting the cape crawl upward, pulling him closer off the bed…

“I’m so sor-!”

The cape pulled him right up and she caught him in a hug.

“Don’t apologize.”

Then she tumbled back down on the bed while holding him against her. She landed on her back and he landed upon her… face right against her chest. The cape tied him down and she held his squirming body…

“Alicia...M-Madame Bolt… Please…” Grant said.

“Please what?” she asked, continuing to bind him up and cradle him.

Grant didn’t know. He was so excited… his naked body bound, feeling the material quite vividly now… She was pressing him against her breasts… He wasn’t afraid of being kept wrapped up… with his hands stuck to his sides, his legs kept together, squirming against the inescapable hold, and her strong, gentle hands cradling him… He was afraid he wouldn’t last long this way…

But instead of voicing this, all he could do was whimper. Alicia, Madame Bolt, was so mighty… so strong… too strong to push up against… He wanted to be there, wrapped up, played with by her…

Sure, sex with her as an equal would have been amazing… but…

Her hand was on his ass. She was squeezing it. Grant groaned in pleasure…

“It’s okay, Grant. I’ve felt your erection so many times while carrying you. I know what you want to do. I know what you’re afraid of and I want you to know… it’s okay…”

She rolled over so that she was atop him now. She positioned his wrapped up body so that their crotches would align. His head and face just above her chest… smelling and feeling her cleavage, still covered in the protective kevlar..

“I know you’re a strong, capable hero, and I won’t forget that just because you want me to be your mommy…” she whispered, and gave him dry hump.

That did it and he lost control. It wasn’t how their first time should have gone, really… But as he was mercilessly humped and pleasured within her cape, accepting his place in her power, he didn’t care at all what others would have thought. He loved this feeling…

She wrapped her strong thighs around him, groaning as she humped him nice, thoroughly, uninterrupted… Her strong thighs, her sensitive crotch, in the suit’s fibers, against him… She pressed down just firm enough to squeeze his dick, his balls, just firm enough to scare him, and released very slowly each time… She herself enjoyed this power over him… Oh how she wished he wasn’t so fragile… But that was the beauty of it all, wasn’t it?

He loved being bound, and she admitted now she loved binding him so much. She loved having this cute little man under her power. In her cape. In her arms. Kept safe by her, but more importantly kept close. She yearned to bind him more. To strap him against her forever, and never let him escape. Never let him free.

She’d pocket him, encapsulate him, belt and lock him, completely own him if she could. As she thrusted against his wrapped up body she fantasized all of these things… That each thrust was pushing him into her until he was thoroughly caught in her essence. The fact that the cape kept them from feeling each other’s warm skin was frustrating, but it would be worth it… building and building the need they both shared for each other...

She stopped when she could tell that he, and also she, were coming close to cumming…

He groaned, wanting to continue, but she held him firm and didn’t allow it…

She released him from the safety of the cape, despite his protests… Then she stripped down…

She wrapped not her cape, but her warm, large, muscled body around her precious little super-partner instead. And as she allowed him to insert himself in her before continuing to thrust, she thought: “Yes. Now I’ve really got you bound…”

And she thrusted...

*** *** ***

It was almost morning when they finished, relaxing together in the king sized bed, surrounded with concrete walls, safe from the rest of the world. She still had her legs around his.

“...I quite enjoyed myself,” she said, breaking the silence. Grant chuckled.

“...Um… so… I guess I shouldn’t make that neck brace I mentioned back when?” he said.

“Don’t you dare,” she whispered.

They fell asleep in each other’s arms, her legs wrapped nicely around his.

*** *** ***

“Oh Puma… Come here~” she called for him. Grant turned off the power drill he was using and took off his mask. Still in the smithing apron he left his lab to see his partner, now in more ways than one, standing excitedly. She was in uniform, though her cape covering her up.

“What’s going on?” he said.

“Grant… Next time the police come, I think we should stay and reveal ourselves to them,” she said.

Grant gave a proud smile as well. “So. It’s time for Madame Bolt and Puma to meet the adoring fans?”

Alicia nodded. Then she unraveled the cape revealing her uniform and Puma’s smile fell.

“Surprise! Since you’re always working so hard on everything-” she began.

“Oh no…” Grant whispered.

“I decided to design my emblem by myself. What do you think?”

Grant, AKA Puma, the great engineer, stared in horror at the red emblazoned symbol on her uniform, just on her breasts downwards. A wonderful star image, and inside an image a bound up mummy, obviously meant to be him. Just stylistic and abstract enough to be mistaken for something else without context…

“Isn’t it wonderful? It represents our bond and teamwork quite well, I believe,” she said.

“Please change it.”

“See? The star is me,” she said. “And this cocoon here represents…”

“Please… No…”

[The End]

11 notes · View notes

miss-choco-chips · 4 years

Text

Soul Shards part 3

Good news, this isn’t as angsty as I thought I’d make it!! Granted, we still have one more part to go through, but I maneged to write this one without making anyone cry. I want a cookie!

This feels kinda like a filler thing? Next part will be heavier on the DamiTim as Damian grows older and closer to his objective, but for now, enjoy the slooooow burn and developing.

There’s little to no edition here, so... be warned.

~.~.~.~

-Well, this is awkward -spoke Timothy after a full minute went by without anyone speaking. Father’s face was unreadable, as it tended to be whenever a matter involved his heart, but Grayson looked like someone that knows they are having some kind of hallucination but desires desperately it were true.

-Timmy -called Grayson, heart at his sleeve. The exhaustion that had been building on the slope of his shoulders seemed to vanish at the sight of his long lost brother, a relieved sigh escaping his dry lips as he fully turned to face the monitor. Damian couldn’t relate; this was far from relaxing to his poor, excited heart. The tiny soul seemed to say ‘same’.

~.~.~.~

14 - 19

The first time Damian lays eyes on Timothy, not a recording or photographs but his actual flesh being, he's in such a rush his brain needs a couple seconds to understand.

What in Hells is he doing at Grandfather's main Australian base?

Damian's feet skip a little when he abruptly stops his dash across the halls, standing open mouthed at the arch leading to the training grounds. There, an oblivious Drake was slowly but steadily working his way across the obstacle course the Australian branch used to hone their skills.

He couldn't quite believe what he was seeing, until the souls at his hip pouch made their feelings on the matter known. His own was scalding hot from all the yearning Damian had been feeling, emotions coming forth at the sight of the one he wished for.

Drake's soul was, as usual, the complicated one. A mixture of want, anger, sadness, fear, adrenaline… Abruptly, a thought crossed his mind, an instant knowledge that left him weak at the knees: The little blue orb wanted to be back with it's rightful owner, wanted to be with Timothy again.

Damian could relate, honestly.

Unaware of the eyes at his back (or perhaps too used to it to notice, if Drake visiting grandfather was a common occurrence), the young man continued his training, strict and unwavering but with a relaxed sort of air around him, like he was in no rush to finish it and keep going to the next move. It was at odds with what Damian had learned from watching years worth of footage of the man, or what Drake's soul itself had taught him by sharing it's emotions on an almost constant basis: he was a creature who thrived on always having a plan following the one currently being executed, always a next step, one more to do list. This unhurried, calm, well rested man, muscles loose on the familiar movements of the training course and intelligent eyes lazily jumping from one point to the other, wasn't quite what Damian expected.

Though, to be fair, Damian only knew about a Timothy with soul. There was nothing, no information, nowhere to learn from about this soulless version of him.

A figure slowly approaching from the corner of his eye kicked Damian's instincts in motion, jumping back from the open arch to a place where Drake wouldn't spot him if he happened to turn around. Tense, he straightened, facing this newcomer head on.

Being find out by his grandfather wasn't surprising, but Damian internally flinched all the same. Without his com, tracker offline for the time being and cellphone left behind at the Manor, there was no way for him to call in reinforcements or inform about his findings. He wouldn't, of course, this was a secret, self appointed mission, and would father find out he'd be in so much trouble, but since Drake's presence and possible recuperation was worth the scolding, he couldn't help but curse himself.

-Grandson -greeted Ra's, calm as always, a knowing light in his eyes. His hands were clasped behind his back, and although he was wearing comfortable clothes (white shirt, loose training pants, his usual footwear and favorite sword at the belt, no signs of the cape, and soul pouch hanging from his neck by a thick golden chain), Damian wasn't fooled by this facade of calmness. The Demon's head was no foe to be taken lightly, and Damian was underprepared to face him head on, most of his weapons sacrificed for the stealth this mission required, and no allies at his back-, come, walk with me. Let's leave our beloved Detective to his activities, shall we? It's rude to stare, after all, or so I was told.

There was a lot to unpack there, but Damian simply didn't have the time to dwell on it. He entertained the brief idea calling out to Drake, of asking for help, and though the idea of fighting side by side sent a wave of elation through him, he refrained. The little icy blue orb by his hip gave a warning poke, and Damian heed to it's advice: even years before, after all that had came to happen between them thanks to Damian's misplaced jealousy and pride, he wasn't sure the other young would run to his aid, and that was while he still had his soul to guide his heart.

Stiffly, Damian followed his grandfather down the hall, until they reached some sort of tea room, it's aesthetic more at place at a Japanese mansion, with it's low table and cushions to kneel on, bamboo decorations and Sakura tree painting taking the entirety of one wall. To the untrained eye, it seemed they were alone, but Damian was raised among shadows and was quick to recognize when one entered or left his field vision.

-You see, grandson -started nonchalantly the Demon's head, taking the steaming tea cup from a servant after comfortably sitting on the golden lined pillow-, your timing is either a marvel or a curse. You seemed to have come here in search of something, and found an entirely different treasure.

Of course he knew. Under the protection of the table, Damian clenched his fists. Drake's soul gave a comforting wave, telling him to keep his calm. Damian's own orb answered it's thanks with a warm stroke. The exchange, that used to leave him dizzy with how confusing it was to feel two souls interacting, was now a welcome distraction from his nervousness. It was how he imagined having Timothy by his side, fully soul-ed again would feel like.

How holding his hand would feel like.

-What is Drake doing here? -careful, don't demand an answer, but don't let him lead the conversation either, was what he imagined his predecessor would tell him, as if anyone else would have it that easy to interact with Ra's- Mother told me the League had no leads on his location.

-Your Mother certainly has a good web of spies and informants, but not even she has access to everything that is my domain. The League follows me, not her. Their loyalty to her and, consequently, you, stops long before it breaches the one they have to me, and thus my most treasured secrets are kept safe by my people. Tea?

Don't, Drake's soul says.

I don't have much of a choice, his own answers.

Don't, it repeats, and Damian is weak.

-I'm not staying long, but thank you.

He waits until his grandfather waves away the servants and has drank twice from his cup before speaking again.

-You never said what is Drake's purpose in being here -he's careful on his reminder. The blue soul seems to approve.

His grandfather looks down at the table, like he could see his pouch through it, and his smile is amused.

-It's amazing, isn't it -he says instead, and he looks so fond, he can't help but shiver- though I never held it, it must be a thing of utter power, feelings so strong even one as willful as the young Detective had no choice but to leave it behind. And it holds all his secrets, his impulses, his instincts. How marvelous.

Damian tenses, readying himself. He'd die fighting before allowing his grandfather to touch Drake's soul. He had left it with him, and even if his intention wasn't for it to be safe or cherished, it was exactly what Damian had been doing, what he intends to keep doing until his last breath, or until Drake asks for it back.

It must show on his face, because his grandfather merely waves a hand.

-Don't look so stern, grandson. Even if I wrenched it out of your cold, dead hands, it'd do me no good. For a soul to give off the feelings of it's owner, it must be freely given. A stolen soul is no more useful than a piece of jewellery -the venom green of Ra's eyes had a wistful light-, though this one is of a particularly beautiful kind, isn't it?

Silence overtook them for a few seconds. Despite the reassurance, Damian didn't relax his stance.

-Will you tell me about Drake's intentions, grandfather? -he forced his voice to remain calm, steady, as if it didn't matter either way.

-I don't think the young Detective himself knows that, Damian. But if you ask why he's here, I can only tell you what motivations I know, and those are financial in nature.

-...financial?

-World trotting without leaving a trace and crime fighting are both expensive activities. Timothy needs, crudely speaking, an income source, and I'm happy to provide as long as he doesn't turn the focus of his attention towards my activities. His company is also a luxurious pleasure I'll gladly buy while he's willing to sell it.

A pause while grandfather drank some more, though it was doubtlessly a psychological attack, intended to give him time to think about what was implied.

Timothy's loyalty was a fickle thing, now that he had no soul to weight him down. He was still fighting the good fight, but his encounter with Todd had taught them he was willing and ready to fight mercilessly to get his way. And grandfather, as his biggest endorser, was more likely to be able to buy his help than the bats to ask for it.

Wordless threat made, the older man kept talking- As of right now, he needed someplace to recuperate from his fight with the Red Hood two weeks ago, and I offered this place. He has my resources at his disposal, and I don't doubt he'll leave soon with full pockets. In the meantime, I know his exact geographical location, something I'm sure you're aware how difficult it is to do, and have the indulging company of someone whose conversation doesn't make me wish I was brain dead, which is even harder to achieve.

Damian's fingers ached for the little soul he was so used to fiddle with, but he forced them to still. Even after what he said, Damian wouldn't trust his grandfather to no snatch it out of his hand if he caught sight of it.

The conversation seemed to be getting closer to its end, but a thought occurred him that his grandfather, with all his years, probably had a better understanding of souls and their workings than anyone else. He needed to try.

-Why did Drake's soul react that way when I saw him? Until now, it only gave me the feelings I believe he would have in a given situation, or reacted to my own feelings. This time it was… different.

Ra's seemed amused by his attempt, enough to answer at least.

-It's the proximity. A soul's core isn't meant to completely leave it's owner. Even though some historical lovers were known to interchange them, as they lived together, the souls still reached out to their original holders and the connection was never severed. There's also the fact that these lovers had the other's soul to compensate, as to speak. It guided them where their own soul failed to.

Again, Damian read between the lines. This wasn't Drake's case, he didn't have anything to fill his soul’s place.

He felt it surge with something akin to desperation and defiance, and Damian's own rose to the feeling. They'd find a way, even if Drake choose to reject his own soul back. He was right there, in the same building as him for the first time in years, he could/

-And now, grandson, I ask you to leave. The detective surely doesn't want to meet you here, and if he thinks I betrayed our pact by inviting you, future exchanges between us would be harder to accomplish -calmly, Ra's motioned to a servant, who brought forth a wooden box- I believe this is payment enough for your compliance.

Suddenly, painfully, Damian was reminded of his reason to be on the Australian base on the first place. He felt his insides go cold.

Damn it all to hell.

Jon.

He was here for Jon.

Ra’s hand softly stroke the box’s lid, before opening it to reveal a shiny orange rock, unassuming to anyone unaware of its power.

-This was what you were looking for, wasn’t it? The mineral needed to save your dying friend’s life, that very few people on Earth posses, would certainly be enough to drive you to try and steal from one as dangerous as myself. Of course, if you’d prefer to take your chances talking to Timothy and refusing my benevolent offer, feel free to search for one of those others owners of it, though I’m sure your dear superboy would be long dead by the time you found it and brought it to him.

Both souls in Damian’s possession ached while he walked out of the hidden castle, towards where he had left his stolen plane. Yearning and desperation, his and Timothy’s let hot dents of pain on his chest, like a very deep scratch by Catwoman when at her most scorned with Batman.

It was so difficult to leave, but it would have been impossible to stay. He was childish in his desire to see Timothy again, to speak to him, to try and win him back to their side, but a developing romantic emotion wasn’t more important than his best friend’s life.

Though Jon owed him a big one, this time.

----.-----

14, soon 15 - 20

-Happy birthday, Timothy -he mutters to himself, shiny blue soul dancing between his fingers with the ease of practice. It goes unheard by the rest of his clan, every bat in the room hyperfocused on the screens displaying different catastrophes around the world- I hope it won’t be your last.

Drake was probably fine. Even if thousands had died in the last few days of this surprise armageddon, he was too smart, too skilled, too good to simply let that take his life. If Damian’s and Todd’s best efforts weren’t enough to bring him down, he doubts that whatever fuckery this was would be.

It didn’t mean he wasn’t worried, though.

-Batman -panted Superman through his communicator. On the screen displaying Luisiana, a red and blue blur worked on getting hundreds of civilians out of a mall currently on fire- we have a situation here.

-There and everywhere else, Kal -growled father, the lack of sleep adding to the drop of his voice. No one had gotten much rest lately, not while the reason for this apparent end of the world remained a mystery- Diana, how are things on your end?

On another screen, Wonder Woman and Wonder Girl were fighting side by side what appeared to be zombies. Damian had long given up on understanding the situation.

The Amazonian’s war cry was enough answer.

-Contact me after you’re done there, I’ll direct you to your next objective -a wave of his hand and his conversation with the Princess was muted. Another movement and Green Lantern’s channel was open-. Give me good news about the Lantern Corps. Are they coming to our aid?

By Father’s right, Nightwing had his own set of heroes to coordinate, every Titan past or present under his command. Red Hood, Batwoman, Bat Girl, Black Bat, The Signal and the Birds of Prey were currently on the field, under Oracle’s guidance. Damian himself had just gotten back from where he was taking care of his city, overworked since Gotham’s other vigilantes were dealing with this end of mankind situation and thus giving their criminals wide breath. Robin’s job in this mess was to keep their streets as clean as possible, taking advantage of school being cancelled until the world either ended or was saved to spend even more time patrolling.

It was a mess. An utter, complete mess. Something needed to change. Dealing with this catastrophes as they came was well and good short term, but it was non stop, and the heroes, even united and coordinated by the Bats, were starting to show some strain.

Damian made a fist around the shiny little orb, searching for it’s warmth to chase away the cold dread at the bottom of his stomach. The soul gave something akin to encouragement, but it was-- distracted, if a soul could ever be that. Expectant. It had been like that since this whole disaster started, and if he weren’t so distracted by literally everything, he’d be going crazy from curiosity.

Finishing the lukewarm tea Alfred had brought down to help ease the transition from Robin to Damian, he let his mind wander again, listening with one ear to both heroes in front of him, taking in the tired slouch of their shoulders. Besides coordinating everyone, Father had been trying to find some answer or solution, and the repetitive failure was taking its own troll on him. Nightwing, ever the Bat first Man and biggest emotional supporter, was likely sharing on it’s burden. He hadn’t seen Brown nor his sister in two days now, and the others in even longer, but he knew their voices and mannerisms enough to read between the lines during their nightly reports via comm; they were all on the end of their rope.

Something called his attention from the corner of his eye, dragging him back to full alertness. A little message warning on one of the least used monitors, a little behind where Father stood and thus not easily seen to him.

He blinked. It was a video call request. Who on their right mind would try and contact them with the world literally falling apart?

The soul almost fell from his fingers in it’s excitement and his throat closed. He knew that feeling.

-Computer, accept call -he commanded, feeling breathless. It gained him the attention of both his mentors, who stopped mid sentence to look over their shoulders to him, just in time to catch the exact moment Timothy appeared on screen.

He looked… healthy. His skin wasn’t as pale as he remembers from years back, no signs of insomnia under his eyes, hair combed and falling softly against his checks. He was leaning back against a couch, one arm wrapped around the back of it in a laid back manner, the position making the fabric of his blue button down cling to his well toned arms. There was something irreverent in the way he sat, a challenge in the tilt of his chin, an impossibly cooky calmness.

Damian would’ve been blown away by such beauty, if not for the empty eyes. He has seen Timothy in pictures of his younger years, happy and thriving, with his icy blue eyes shining and alive. This version of him couldn’t compare to the real deal, stunning as it was.

Still, from a purely objective standpoint… Damn. This was a very inappropriate moment for him to notice it, but damn.

Was this what Todd called a sexual awakening? It might have been, despite how strongly he hoped it wasn’t; it’d be really ill timed, but that was the bats’ luck.

His oldest’ voice was what Father’s brain apparently needed to reboot. He raised a hand, silencing all monitors around them, except the one that mattered now. In the midst of such a world wide destruction, and with the air as emotionally charged as it was, Timothy’s calmness was baffling.

-Is that Titan’s tower? -asked abruptly father, which drew the rest of Timothy’s background to his attention and… huh. It was. What the hell?

Timothy raised an eyebrow.

-Nice to see you too, B. Is that a new cowl? It really brings out your natural brooder, congratulations.

-Timmy/

The utter heartbreak in Grayson’s voice made the soul still between Damian’s fingers to twitch painfully, but the man on the screen barely spared his former mentor and friend a look.

-Yes, this is the Tower. No, most titans don’t know I’m here, just Conner as he gave me access on the first place. Yes, we kept in touch after I went away, because the fucker is unfair and can track my heartbeat. No, he won’t ever tell you my location, we have a deal; he doesn’t rat me out, I don’t put him into a coma to keep him and the other two from following me around. Yes, like I would have done with Jason if I weren’t in such a time crunch. No, I’m no criminal. No, I haven't killed anyone this past years, but as you could have guessed, my morals are as good as gone now so I’m not against a little brutality when dealing with an issue. Does that answer all your questions? Can we move on on the important, end of the world thing? This isn’t a social call.

Both Father and Grayson seemed blindsided by such a direct approach, but Damian had expected it, and the icy orb was demanding him to try and gather more information.

-I hacked the Titans, I would have known if they were aware of you.

He didn’t think this through. Directly addressing Drake made him focus his attention on him, and Damian wasn’t exactly ready for it.

-They come to me in person. Nothing for you to track. I allow them to follow me around for some days, they like to act as my moral compasses, they hug me for hours and then it’s goodbye for a few weeks. Rinse, repeat. It’s a nice system and they aren’t as annoying as they could be, so I don’t stop it. Apocalypse situation, anyone? Can we maybe focus on that? If you guys need a moment, I can hang up and go deal with it myself/

-No! -echoed both Batman and Nightwing. Damian’s souls (both of them) silently agreed with the sentiment. Who knows how long it’d be until they got a hold of him again.

Drake seemed amused, but he didn’t press. Instead, he leaned forward to reach the holographic keyboard in front of him and set to work, bringing up different blueprints, records and strategies.

-Now, as you probably already guessed, we are dealing with aliens here. A very powerful, but vulnerable kind. Here's what I’ve got…

No more than five hours later, the week long hell they’ve gone through was done with. All thanks to a barely legal man that after a few days of disasters decided to bite the bullet and call them, but who hang up the moment his plans were set in motion.

The second they were clear, Father and Grayson jumped into the Jet. Damian declined, not because he didn’t want to see Drake, but because he was sure he’d be long gone from the Tower by their arrival. Especially if, as they learned today, he still had his three metas at his beck and call. And, he recalled, Grandfather.

On his way to his bedroom he caught sight of Brown and Cain, huddled together on a couch.

Stephanie’s locket was almost completely black, only small specs of blue shining through. In comparison, Cassandra’s compass looked like the sky, clear and beautiful, with only the barest hints of darkness seeping slowly into it as the night fell.

The rest of the way to his bed, he clenched the icy blue soul as tightly as he could without breaking his own hand.

While it retained its color, there would still be time.

-------.-------

15 - 20

The last couple of months had been easier for Damian’s mission, and harder for his soul. Knowing that the key to track Drake laid with his friends, and with more free time than his other family members, he enjoyed an unique position of having the occasion and the resources to follow the metas to Timothy’s location, whenever they went to him. Jon was a loyal and useful friend, and had no issues on flying Damian someplace at the drop of a hat, on top of covering for him with his family. Grayson seemed elated at the concept of Damian spending so much time with his friend, so he made it his mission to keep Father off his back, which worked just fine for him and his mission.

His damn feelings, on the other hand, were a mess.

This was the sixth time Damian had followed one of the former Young Justice (Kon El, today) to Drake’s hiding place. This seemed to be a short-ish visit, a few hours of the super complaining about college while Drake steadily worked his way through a underground drug trafficking ring. The young vigilante himself had merely answered with ‘hmm’s and ‘aahh’s, according to Jon, but it didn’t seem to deter the meta.

Damian was just sitting on a close by rooftop ledge, waiting until Drake left the building to get a last glimpse of him before leaving for Gotham, when Jon stopped mid sentence and tilted his head the way he did when he was focusing on hearing something. Then, without explanation, he left.

He didn’t even had the time to wonder about his sudden departure, when a soft touch to his shoulder had him drawing his sword and jumping into defensive position.

It was Timothy.

Damian didn’t lower his guard.

Timothy smiled, approvingly. The little soul at his pouch seemed to echo on the feeling.

-Jason didn’t view me as much of a threat -he said conversationally, walking around Damian to join him at his sitting perch, long, slim legs moving back and forth over the edge, weight resting on his hands behind his back- that’s what gave me such a clear shot at kicking his ass, but it doesn’t mean it wasn’t offensive. You can relax though, I don’t have a reason to hurt you.

It wasn’t a ‘I don’t want to’ nor a ‘I won’t’, and that’s why Damian believed it; if given a reason, Drake wouldn’t be against fighting him. It was just that he didn’t have one right then and there.

-Why approach me? -he asked, shoulders slowly losing their tension. He didn’t put his sword away, though.

-This is the sixth time you’ve tracked me down -explained the man, and he felt his heart do a jump on his chest; he wasn’t aware Drake knew-, and after the third, I realized it wasn’t for Daddy or Daddy two-point-oh. You never called anyone, never gave my location away, didn't even try to talk to me. So, I...grew curious. Asked Kon to call your little friend away so we might have a chat. Besides -Timothy looked sideways to Damian and a little smirk curved his rosy lips- it’s your birthday. Figured it was as good a occasion as any to indulge you. So I’m here, baby bat. What do you want with me?

Damian’s traitious brain had some suggestions, but he sternly pushed them all out of his mind, to the back of his subconscious for future Damian to deal with. This wasn’t the man he wanted, anyway; not with those empty eyes.

-Your soul/ -he started.

Timothy’s entire body coiled up, as if ready for a fight, and Damian felt himself tensing in response.

-Don’t even say it. I don’t want it back, won’t accept it. If you don’t want to carry it around any longer, throw it into Atlantis for all I care. Just… don’t bother me with that shit, or your new pastime of stalking me will be cut short.

-I wasn’t/!

-Dress it as whatever you want baby bat, but I know the score, one stalker to another.

Desperate for a change in the conversation, he went back to his mental list of questions for Drake.

-If… If you don’t want it back.

-I don´t.

-Then, what is your goal? What… what are you doing? You keep fighting Father’s fight, seeing to his Mission…

-Woah, hey. Just because your Father likes to call it his, doesn’t mean that the Mission belongs to him. I wanted to help people long before I was pseudo adopted into your little cult. Actually, the whole reason I got into it, was because your Dad needed a therapist and coping mechanism and moral compass all rolled into one, but as the picky lil brat he was, he wouldn’t take one unless it was twelve years old, with blue eyes and black hair and no parental figures whatsoever. Little me was like catnip for him, and I was just a kid that wanted to help.

Damian… didn’t really had an answer for that.

-That being said, that was true for past-me. As I am now, I couldn’t care less about the ‘good fight’. Any fight would do for me. If I’m still saving people, it’s merely because past-me trained this body beyond what’s healthy to make it virtually impossible for me to ignore evil doers. It’s basically muscle memory, or a vice.

-Muscle… memory? How so?

Timothy hummed, eyes going up as he searched for the right words.

-If I don’t fight crime, I start getting twitchy, and feeling odd, and it’s just uncomfortable. Without soul, I lack motivation and function because of needs. I’m thirsty, I drink. I’m hungry, I eat. I’m tired, I sleep. Like a baby, impulses are all that matter to me. Except for coffee, because my body goes through literal withdrawal when it goes long without it, and crime fighting. Also the reason why I find it hard to fight against those three metas that keep following me around; my body is just used to go into ‘protect and care for’ mode when catching sight of them, it’s night to impossible to be aggressive. Or why I had no problem kicking Jason’s ass to kingdom come; I have a flight or fight reaction to him ingrained into me, and now, I chose to fight.

The small, hidden part of him that had hoped Drake retained some part of his soul (maybe a secret, maybe hurting?) was ruthlessly squished by the man's words.

-Why did you help us, then, against the aliens? They weren't in your way, and you didn't get a fight out of it, merely gave us plans -tries, someway childishly.

He received a look that made him feel dumb. He wasn't used to it.

-I live on this planet too, you know. If it goes to shit, so do all of us. It was a matter of self preservation.

There was no denying any of that. Timothy’s eyes remainded empty, light amusement the only emotion flickering through his expression.

The tiny soul by his soul pouch gave the equivalent of an indignant cry to Damian.

‘Get me back on my body. Give my emotions back to him. Fix this’, it demanded.

‘I don’t know how’, he wanted to reply.

‘Figure it out’ was the uncompromising answer.

It was scared. Timothy’s soul was scared of what he had become, of what he’d continue to be without it, and it was begging Damian for help. This wasn’t about proving himself to father, or to Timothy, any longer. This was to help him; save him. Bring him back to what he was before.

He needed a plan, and time to develop it.

Throat swallowing hard, he weighed his options. Contact with Timothy was needed, if a chance to return his soul was to be taken the moment it appeared.

Thinking back on all that was said, he felt an idea start to form.

-Would you mind if I sought you out sometimes? It’s… quiet here, and you aren’t as annoying a company as the rest of our family members can be.

-Your family, you mean.

-Be that as it might. You could help me with cases, and won’t care if a particular one is specially hard or dangerous. That kind of cold insight might be useful, and it’ll help calm your need of doing good, won’t it?

He expected a denial, or negotiation. But of course Timothy merely shrugged.

-I told you before, I don’t care. About anything, really. Stay, go, do whatever, as long as you don’t get in my way or try to give me that shit back. If you can follow those two simple rules, we won’t have a problem.

Damian ignored the dryness of his voice, the hollowness of his eyes. Instead, his focus was poured into the feelings he got from the soul at his pouch.

Pride and anticipation. He was on the right track.

Fear. This path wouldn't be easy.

Gratitude. He was doing all of this for Timothy’s sake, nothing he’d gain from it.

And… a special kind of fondness. It wasn’t yet on par with the one he had felt for months every time the icy blue soul was in close proximity with Todd, but… it was getting there.

A hot flush of excitement went through him.

He was going to do this, and do it right, and maybe… maybe Drake wouldn’t hate him by the end of it all.

153 notes · View notes

some-cookie-crumbz · 4 years

Note

TodoDeku with a baby using prompt 10?

Guess who took this prompt and went way overboard with it? This dweeb! *points at self*

Also, Trigger Warning: Mentions/References to Experimentation on Children, Mentions/ References to Child Neglect/ Abuse.

Parenting was a strange, exciting event that, while Todoroki Shouto adored, occasionally left him grasping at straws.

His own upbringing had been anything but soft and comforting. There had been the brief moments of reprieve with his mother or older sister, but they were far and few between; especially after the scalding incident. As he grew up, however, he began to come out of his own shell and begin picking up the pieces from his shattered youth. He developed a very dry, sarcastic sense of humor that people seemed to enjoy. He went out of his way to bumble awkwardly through befriending people he admired, boasting a small but close social circle that his younger self had thought was only a dream.

And he fell helplessly in love with Midoriya Izuku, the man who started these changes in him, and the two had started a family together a few years after marrying.

He had been nervous but thrilled about the whole prospect. While his own experience with parenting was dark and scarring – literally – he felt good about how he and Izuku would manage. The two of them were a strong couple and were very vocal about their needs and wants. They had a great support system in their friends, Inko and All Might, Rei and Shouto’s siblings, and – to a much lesser and restricted extent – Endeavor. They had done their research into what options were available for them and then started on the grueling process of being approved through both means; the first being adoption, and the second being assisted by a medical professional with an accommodating Quirk. Due to reform acts in the justice system – and Shouto would forever be grateful for those changes, all things considered – the process was a bit more complex for Pros, and especially so for a married couple that were both Pros.

But, after a full fourteen months of paperwork, appointments, interviews and home evaluations, they received their approval letter. And then, a few months later, on November 12th, they brought home their son, Todoroki Satoshi.

Satoshi was born via the assistance of a Quirk user, meaning he was biologically related to Shouto and Izuku. Just based on appearance, his relation to the Todoroki family was clear; he had the crimson locks and steel toned eyes and pale complexion. His hair did, however, have that same natural curl that Izuku's did, making it a nightmare to tame as it grew longer. Aside from his appearance, though, as he got older, more of his behavior was also derived from his Papa. He had more confidence in him than either Shouto or Izuku had at his age but that was compounded by being incredibly emotional and a bit of a crybaby. Toshi was near as quick to tears as his Papa had been a long time ago, but a part of Shouto was grateful for it. He liked that he was comfortable enough with himself to be so vulnerable and transparent with his feelings.

And then, when he was just a few weeks shy of four, there had been the manifestation of his Quirk, which had been... Well, a shit show, to put it in the most honest of terms. They’d been over at the Todoroki estate so the kids could visit with their cousins, aunts, uncles and Rei, the little cluster of seven children running to and fro chasing a ball in the yard. Shouto had been pleased to watch his children get to play with their family, delighted by the excited squeals and shouts coming from them all. But then, after a few minutes, Satoshi had come running over, all watery eyes and choked wails about how his throat hurt and it was hard to breath, little fingers clawing at his neck as if that would soothe his pain. He and Izuku were immediately rushing to get him in his Papa’s arms for a leap to the nearest emergency room, when he suddenly squirmed and pushed away, putting a bit of distance between himself and Izuku, turned his head to the side and unleashed an impressive blast of fire from his mouth, scorching a large tree not too far off into nothing but smoldering kindling. He and Izuku had stared at the murdered tree before looking at each other and then down at their son, who had slumped back against his Papa’s chest with a small whine. “I thought I was gonna puke,” he mumbled sheepishly. They had nodded awkwardly, not sure how else to respond, before Shouto excused himself to get the little tot some water.

Rei had been the one with the most insight of how to help them manage his newfound abilities, citing how she had managed Touya and Shouto when their Quirks first presented and they hadn’t started training with Endeavor. She suggested some small game-like exercises that would help Satoshi figure out how to make the Quirk work when he wanted, as well as give him some insight to when his Quirk was activating and he couldn’t stop it. A few days later, Endeavor had approached Shouto with the information for a support tech group that specialized in making customized home materials - such as sheets and clothes and the like - for children still learning to manage their Quirks. “Let them know I advised you speak with them and they should offer you a discount,” he had said. And that was the end of it, much to Shouto’s surprised pleasure.

Furthermore, getting in touch with Izuku's father had been a huge help, too. Satoshi's fire-breathing Quirk was significantly stronger than the elder Midoriya's was, but it seemed the backlash was similar. Overextending the Quirk could lead to dehydration - which had been learned quickly, given how excitedly he'd shown his Quirk off initially - and, when pushed too far, had actually torn his throat up enough to make him cough up some blood. The bigger struggle with him was maintaining control of how far and large the blast was. Almost a year after the fact, Satoshi was still learning in regards to those aspects of it, but had made great strides in his ability to control when the fire was used. It had been a month since the last time his Quirk went unruly and almost set a fire while he was sleeping and that was no small accomplishment.

And then there was their daughter, who came home just a short while after Satoshi turned a year old.

She was found through work. Or, rather, Izuku found her as part of an investigation he was assigned to. Shouto didn't know the specifics since he wasn't one of the Pros on the mission, but he knew it was disgusting; something involving experimentation to see about accelerating the development process for Quirks. All 78 test subjects had been children - some as old as eleven and their daughter being the youngest at only three months old - and it had rattled his husband to the core, seeing the state they were all in and how they'd been treated leading up to the sting. For the next two weeks, Izuku went to the hospital every night to visit with the children, checking their progress and hoping for the best. Once Shouto found out why he was going, he would join him when he could.

It was through this he learned specifically of Girl 36, the label attached to the youngest victim.

Of the 78 children, only 23 ended up surviving the ordeal; and of that, only 7 were reunited with their biological families while the rest needed to be rehomed completely. Girl 36 turned out to be biologically related to two of the main villains involved in the whole experiment who were still at large. Neither side of the villains' families wanted her, though, seeing her as a reminder of where their bloodlines had gone wrong. Her fate had seemed further sealed when a doctor had told them outright that she, as the youngest, was least likely to make it much longer. "While she hasn't been subjected to as much experimentation as some of the others," he said patiently, "she is very young and very small. For an infant of her age to have been this mistreated and neglected, the odds of bouncing back may as well be negative digits. We'll keep doing all we can, but we're mostly just trying to make sure she is as comfortable as possible when the inevitable occurs."

And she had been so small, so fragile, appearing as if an odd look would be enough to break her, that Shouto couldn't blame the doctor for his assessment. He peered down at her, tucked away in a little incubator of sorts, hooked up to far too many machines, and saw her little eyes crack open. Pumpkin colored slivers stared up at he and Izuku, a small spark there, and he knew. He knew that even if no one else believed that she could pull through, that she was strong and she would beat those impossible odds. That night, Shouto suggested they apply to adopt her. Izuku had wept in joy, confessing he had wanted to ask but wasn't sure how to approach it, and they started the process the following morning. It took six weeks for things regarding the adoption to be finalized, and then five more after before she was medically cleared to be discharged, but it was all well worth it.

Her birth date was determined to be some time in early May, with the doctor deciding the tenth seemed like a good day, and she sat at six months old when she came home on November 24th. They had selected the name Momiji for her because with her red-brown hair and orange eyes she seemed to be the living embodiment of fall aesthetics. So, naming her after the leaves that fell in the season she came home in only made sense. It was a little difficult at first, balancing their work with two children under the ages of two and one who needed a bit of extra care and monitoring, but they figured it out and were happy. Toshi enjoyed having a little sister to play with and Momiji started to thrive under the watchful eyes of her new, loving family.

But Momiji was rather different than Satoshi as she got older. She was easily excitable and an absolute chatterbox and seemed to have boundless energy. Furthermore, despite how much she had needed to be monitored, she was already significantly more independent than her brother. Part of that, though, could have been a side effect of how early on her Quirk ended up presenting. She had just barely been two years old when it happened, and while not unheard of, had become rather uncommon. The doctor explained that this was most likely a side effect of the experimentation she’d been put through, as it was a recurring theme with some of the other younger children that had lived. It had happened while she was in the bath before bedtime, as she was squealing and happily splashing about while Izuku laughed at her antics. One minute, she was in the tub, and then she suddenly perked up, her giggles cutting off as she blinked. “Momi?” Izuku had asked, tilting his head at her.

She patted at her belly and looked up at him, as if that would answer the question, and then she was enveloped in a yellow-white mist of light. It was brief - less than three seconds, Izuku swore - but when it faded, Momiji was gone. In her room, however, where Shouto had been pulling out some clean pajamas for her, the mist-light appeared, and suddenly Momiji was there, sitting on her changing table and dripping water all over it. Shouto remembered the two of them gawking at each other for a full five seconds before she took in a little gasp and said, nonchalant as a toddler could be, “Oh, hi Daddy.”

Teleportation, it was deemed medically, but Izuku liked to call it Peek-A-Boo, given its sporadic nature.

They'd had to do quite a bit of research to better understand her Quirk; specifically in that they had to drudge up the files of her genetic donors, since Shouto refused to apply the word "parent" to villains like that. Their Quirks were called Locator and Mistafy respectively; one could pinpoint a person's exact coordinates with enough information about them, while the other could briefly transform their body into a faint mist to move around or past things. Learning the limitations of their powers helped give them more insight with Momiji's own Quirk. She didn't have a particularly large range and she was limited to places she knew the layout of to a certain extent, so they didn't have to worry about her poofing off the property, at least. There had been one scare, though, when she'd teleported herself into a small crawl space under the house, where she had apparently burrowed into during a few rounds of hide-and-seek before. She could poof from room to room when visiting Inko and All Might or Rei and Endeavor, what with her being familiar with their homes, but she couldn't just appear in a neighbor's home or something.

And that had been a huge relief, really. They'd had to start working on her Quirk early on to avoid her “peeking” - as they preferred to call it - herself somewhere she shouldn't, or somewhere dangerous like the time with the crawl space. They had done it using little games, just like they did with Toshi, and learned that she could also teleport small objects, as well as that overworking her Quirk would lead to fainting spells. She was also a quick study, picking up on the same ticks of her power that her parents had and taking their advice or warning very seriously. Despite being younger, she was better with her Quirk than Satoshi, having reached a point where she seemed to have near-flawless control of it. Her last incident of accidental peeking was nearly three months ago.

But her Quirk was also part of what had Shouto's mind working in overdrive. He had voiced his concern to Rei and Inko, but the pair of them had merely giggled about what a mother hen he was being, fretting over his little chick running the roost a bit more. It wasn't about that, though! It wasn't about her being able to brush her teeth on her own without needing to be asked, or getting herself drinks or anything trivial like that! Shouto was fine that Momiji and Satoshi were already showing differences in who they were growing to be. What he worried about was what the catalyst for her to be so self-reliant at her young age was. How much of her independence was just part of her personality, and how much of it was out of a perceived sense of necessity? Had the need to get a handle on her Quirk led to her feeling like she was obligated to be more responsible, more mature? Was she feeling the same way he felt growing up?

That was what scared him. That she was carrying far too much weight on her little shoulders.

The thought was still bothering him as he dragged himself home after a late night patrol. He knew that by the time he got home, Izuku and the kids would most likely already be in bed. It was a quarter past eleven by the time he came through the door. He made a beeline for the bedroom, being quiet as he did so, and took a quick shower. It was as he was finishing up her pre-bed route that he noticed a quiet rustling sound in the bedroom proper. He rinsed his mouth and poked his head out, flicking the light off as he did.

There was a small squeak of surprise and then the soft patter of footsteps rushing from the left side of the bed towards the door. For a moment, he almost thought it was Toshi, but the figure was a smidge too short. "Momiji," he called softly, resisting the urge to dart over and scoop her up. He kept telling himself to just let her do what she needed to do, to trust that she'd speak up if needed.

She paused in reaching for the door before letting out a whimper, charging at him, latching to his right leg, and started crying. He was stunned by the act for a second, his body wavering slightly. Normally when she wanted one of them, she'd use her Quirk to get to them faster. He shifted to pick her up and cradle her against him, tucking her into his right shoulder. He kept one arm looped under her legs while the other stroked her back, trying to soothe her some. The quiet rustle of covers caught his attention and he turned to see a groggy Izuku sitting up, rubbing one eye with the heel of a hand. The minute he realized what was going on, though, he was wide awake. "What happened?" he mouthed.

"I'm not sure," he mouthed back. He moved over to the bed, carefully slipping into his side while keeping her close. Once he was settled, Izuku moved closer so he could rest against Shouto’s left side and reach out to help soothe their little girl, the three of them all squished together. After a few moments of soft words and gentle reassurances, she settled down a little. Her tiny body still shuddered with each breath in, but her cries had quieted down and her tears had subsided to just small sniffles. “Feeling a little better?” he prompted.

“Mmhmm,” she mumbled, letting out another little sniffle.

Izuku reached over and gently wiped away the last few tears from her cheeks. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I had a bad d-dream,” she said, a hiccup causing her to stumble over the last word. She peeked her little eyes at them before tilting her head to nuzzle further into Shouto, hiding her face. “I kept peeking over and over and I didn’t know where I was and I couldn’t make it st-stop and it was s-su-super s-s-sc-ary!”

Shouto tilted his head to press a small kiss to the top of her head as she started to work herself up into another fit while Izuku started wiping away the new batch of tears. "Oh, Momi, it's okay. It's okay to have scary dreams," Izuku cooed softly.

"N-Nu-uh!" she protested, burrowing her face into Shouto.

Izuku let out a small sigh as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Oh, sweetie, everyone has scary dreams sometimes,"

"N-Not about their Q-Quirks!" she hiccupped, lifting her head to scowl at him. With the watery eyes and trembling lower lip, though, any attempt at intimidation was lost. "M-Mako-Kun doesn't g-get sc-scared of his Q-Quirk! A-And neither do Kaito or Reo or Isamu or Hibari!” The mention of Fuyumi’s kids was unsurprising, but the first one she mentioned did catch Shouto a bit off guard. Mako was the neighbor boy, a middle school student that occasionally walked Satoshi home and who helped his mom babysit them when neither Shouto or Izuku were going to be off of work on time or had anyone else available. His Quirk had something to do with generating poison and anti-venom, from what Shouto recalled, but he couldn't remember the specifics. Something to ask Izuku about later, since he'd most likely know.

"Well, Mako-Kun has had his Quirk a lot longer than you. I'm sure he was scared of it a little bit at first, too," Izuku chimed in softly, though he seemed a bit unsure of himself. Shouto knew that Izuku didn’t have any first hand experience with dealing with a Quirk at a young age, but they hadn’t discussed that fact with the kids yet. They were still only five and four, respectively, and they worried the pair would let the secret slip. They both knew that both kids tended to brag about who their dads were, after all.

Shouto hummed in agreement, carding a hand through her hair. “Papa’s right. Everyone's a little scared of their Quirk when they’re still learning about it. Why, I was afraid of my Quirk for a really long time,” he commented.

Momiji’s head snapped up lightning fast at that, looking at him like he’d just rocked the entire foundation of her world. “What? But you’re Daddy! A Hero! You’re not scared of nothing!” she squawked.

He laughed quietly, gently stroking her hair again to coax her to lie back down. “I wasn’t a Hero back then; I was little, like you. And even now, I might be a Hero, but there are still things I’m afraid of,” he mused.

“Like what?” she chirped, slowly settling back down, resting her chin on him and tilting her head so she could stare up at him.

“Well, I’m scared of something happening to you, or Papa, or Satoshi. I’m scared of not doing a good job as a Hero, or as a parent,” he admitted.

“And scorpions,” Izuku chimed in helpfully.

Shouto cast him a side glance before lightly pinched his belly in retaliation, causing the other to throw his face into a pillow with a muffled giggle. “Scorpions are icky!” Momiji agreed with a little shudder.

“Yes, they are,” he agreed, turning his attention back to her. “But back to the Quirk thing… I was very scared of my Quirk when I was around your age. I was always worried about hurting someone with it.”

“So what did you do?” she mumbled softly. “When you got scared?”

For a moment, he wasn’t sure what to tell her. He didn’t want to lie and pretend that he had parents that he could actively seek comfort from, but he also didn’t think that unpacking his childhood trauma on his daughter was responsible. His own childhood coping mechanisms also weren’t the best. But, he realized, there was something he could offer up. “Well, I would take a little break from using it,” It was a half truth at best, since he was pretty sure that ‘a little break’ didn’t extend to ‘nearly a decade of non-use’, but it was mostly true once he started actively using his fire. It had taken him time to get used to it and, sometimes, he’d struggle and get frustrated or scared. “I’d go do other things, like reading a book or studying notes, and just not really think about my Quirk until I felt ready.”

She hummed and nodded quietly, shifting to nuzzle closer to him again. “Mkay,” she said simply.

“Do you feel better, baby?” Izuku asked softly, resting his head against Shouto’s chest and getting himself comfortable.

“Mmhmm,” she hummed before opening her mouth wide in a yawn. She smacked her lips a bit and burrowed into Shouto, little hand curling in the fabric of his night shirt and her eyes sliding closed. “Can I sleep here?”

The pair of them exchanged amused looks. As if they were going to shoo the poor thing back to her room, especially when she was already so comfy and content. “Of course you can,” Shouto hummed, pressing another kiss to the top of her head.

“Love you, Daddy, Papa,” she yawned, eyes cracking open briefly as she flashed them a little smile before they fluttered closed again.

Shouto carefully curled his arm around her to keep her close while Izuku settled one of his hands on top of hers, thumb gently stroking the top. Once her breaths started to come in even, steady puffs, green eyes flashed upwards with affectionate exasperation. “This little girl, I swear. She just jumps from hysterical to dubious to exhausted like it’s nothing,” he chuckled.

“Well, she is our daughter. Emotional extremes are kind of our thing in this family,” he teased back, grin widening when Izuku whined and ducked his face into his shoulder. “And, I mean, I don’t blame her for being exhausted. Being scared can be very tiring.”

“Hmm,” Izuku agreed, turning his head to look at her again. She was completely peaceful now, little sleepy snores escaping her. “Do you think that part of it is because she doesn’t spend a whole lot of time with other kids her age? I mean, she has play dates with everyone elses kids when we can find the time, but the kids she sees the most often are bigger kids. Or perhaps it’s a matter of her Quirk being so different from the rest of the family and her friends? I mean, most of the other kids have more expansive Quirks that aren’t so directly tethered to their spatial awareness.”

“I’ll call Momo tomorrow and see what preschool program she and Kyoka are thinking about putting Shikako in. Perhaps being with a peer that she knows whose Quirk also has an element of unpredictability will help her feel comfortable. Or at least give her someone her own age that relates to help her feel better about it,” he commented. Shikako had been another of the rescued survivors from the same incident as Momiji, though she was a few months older. She had been living with a different family for the first six months after the incident, but then her Quirk presented. It turned out to be Projection; she could temporarily bring things she imagined to life. Because of how similar her Quirk seemed to work to Momo’s, she and Kyoka had immediately jumped to take her in when her first family admitted to not knowing how to manage her Quirk, happy to offer her a safe and loving home.

“You’re amazing,” Izuku said, leaning up to kiss him quickly before settling back down. Shouto smiled and relaxed into the bed, basking in the weight of his husband and daughter pressing down on him. There was going to be some phone calls to make in the morning and there was still work to be done, but he felt relieved to know their daughter wasn’t afraid to open up and seek comfort from them.

He held her a little tighter, though, just in case the lingering fears tried to disturb her again.

#crumbles grumbles #TodoDeku #my fics #TW: Child Abuse #TW: Child Neglect #TW: Experimentation #UGH I am WEAK for writing my ships with children!#And I have Too Many Feels about Shouto as a Daddy #Hence why this was kinda Shouto-centric

12 notes · View notes

garbagegrimoire · 4 years

Text

podcast notes week 1

Here are the notes I had going into the podcast recording for week 1.

There are some spoilers in here & all of the doodle/synopsis posts have not yet dropped but the episode is recorded & here we gooooo...

Train to Busan

Starting out strong with a zombley deert (to speak in cursed rickyisms).

Giving his kid some yuppie bullshit talk & almost gets them clobbered in traffic, great dad.

Damn that escalated quickly. Why did it take so long for the first lady to turn but the others are like instantaneous?

The shots, effects, & choreography in this movie are crazy!

The grandma has lucid moments before changing which seems more than what the passengers got. & she used them to break hearts.

Ohhh he's a “fund manager,” ofc he's a dick.

Watching a zombie movie during a pandemic hits different.

I like that the bad ass in this movie is a soon to be dad with a dad bod & he's also a boomer who doesn't know how to change his ringtone.

Okay, they’re officially fit daddy & dad bod.

Okay legit tears at dad bod sacrificing himself even though I knew it was coming.

LOL young capitalist bastard fighting old capitalist bastard

This is capitalism & I hate it. OFC the motherfucker willing to screw over everyone else even if he doesn't need to prevails nearly to the end.

We need a zombie killing axe... Oh wait, nevermind, a shoe is good too.

Oh wow, that shit is poignant. The most ruthless capitalist of the group having a mama moment before he changes.

I'm sitting here yelling, get his nards, fit daddy! Do the nuts still have any effect?

Oh shit, fit daddy is infected. Human bites are gross.

This sucks, I hate it. :(

OH FUCK WHY DO THEY MAKE IT WORSE OMG!

& worse.

I didn't want to cry this much, not fair.

Re-Animator

Ooh, my German 101 skills are tingling.

Chaos nerd is everything in this scene. You wondrous ball of absolute cheese.

The security guard saying "Nobody wants in & ain't nobody getting out" is the Chekov's gun of this movie.

Fuckin’ nerd talk. Do either of you even lift? Why don't you duke this out in a tables, ladders, & chairs match?

I don't feel great about that transition between her playfully saying "no" & them full plowing. Greeeeeassy.

I'm with the cat on this one — scratch him!

"The world's last living puritan." LOL, come to eastern Washington tho.

How in the world is this lady's creep radar going off w nerdboy but not with the creepy old man trying to bang her?

They did a few things really well with this cat thing. Because usually I could not DEAL with violence against a pet. First the dead cat doesn't look anywhere near realistic, nonetheless once it's reanimated. Also, there's no like huge emotional connection between the character & the cat because the only experience the viewer has with it prior to it dying is it scratching his back after he's done banging, which I mean, solid choice there kitty.

"Because it's maaaad?" Best line in this mf movie.

I like how quick Halsey turns on nerdboy who he was stoked on like two days later. All because he insulted the creepy old man?

"Here's your meatball!" Writers were A+ obv.

"I know you're all by yourself now." Ew no. Again, she reacts to something other than the creepy old guy trying to bang her. PLEASE REACT, maybe punch him in the face or move to a different state without notifying anyone.

I’m dying, it looks like he's dribbling cherry applesauce out of his mouth.

This is the corniest, dumbest break up scene I've ever watched.

So once they're lobotomized they have like a mind link with the old guy head? Alright...?

Okay so we've arrive. This scene is fucking pure unadulterated cringe & makes me feel like I need to take several showers & drink bleach.

"Get a job & a sideshow." This entire movie is this nerd & that's what I'm here for.

How is there this seemingly endless supply of this green ooze? Also this reminds me of TMNT.

LOL the murderous colon strikes.

I'm very confused on the rules of what stays alive & how. Like the hand is still twitching but the guy in the hallway is dead?

Nothing gore-wise has bothered me so far but the chest compression sound is gross.

This guy is the worst. If he loved her he'd let her die.

Plan 9 From Outer Space

"Future events such as these will affect you in the future." You don’t say, friend.

Hillabilly gravediggers saying "sorta spooky like" is the mood here.

The scream is so good.

A conspiracy theorist manifesto delivered on a suburban patio made entirely out of wicker.

The walking dead in this movie are so much more chill than the last two, just saying. Like if you're going to kill me, fine, but be chill about it.

"The earth people who can think are so frightened by those who cannot — the dead." Truuuuuuu. Thinking sucks, bro.

The pillow talk is all kinds of weird.

Hey, I know you're worried too, but because you're a child that can't care for herself, make sure you lock the doors because that's something a feeble woman wouldn't remember to do.

"You are on the verge of destroying the entire universe." Ooof this hits different now.

Yeah, it's old timey & corny but there are some seriously artsy scenes in this. I love the glowing trees.

Vampira is aesthetic goals if: I was more feminine, if I gave a fuck, if anyone ever looked at me, lol.

If some big dead dude was coming for you why in the hell would you just stand there or sit there & scream? Like these are the easiest monsters to escape from, you all are so gd slow.

That's it, I'm dressing up as one of these aliens for Halloween. All I need is some black pants, a belt, & a shiny purple shirt.

LOL little green men. Shoot first, ask questions later. Get all the tropes in there buck-o.

I just realized the dude alien is called Eros & I'm laughing. Total heartthrob. "You're always right, Eros." Fucking yuuuck. Miss me with all of this.

Holy trigger happy.

Explode the actual particles of sunlight. LOL, OMG "STRONGER NATION THAN NOW." These fucking nationalist trashbags.

Yes, of course aliens are religious too. & the're sexists. OH MY GOD IM GOING TO THROW THE MONITOR OUT THE WINDOW STAHP!

This was so much. I mean it's the old humans are dumb, violent animals & need to be gently led or annihilated. Okay, that can be true. But the aliens here needed to FOAD too.

Dead Birds

Is Mark Boone Jr in everything & will he die early? (yes)

Very aesthetic theme

Bank manager's whiskers are on point.

The fuck? Oooh racist, niiiiice. I hate everyone all the time.

Yup this is how bank robbers would behave, wanting to kill of members of the gang to get a bigger share.

Gross, just listening into their friends banging, being creepy.

Is it turning into a bear? (Ohhh, the footprints)

Okay one of these dudes actually has something like a conscience, good to know, still hate him.

54 minutes in & I'm getting real bored.

Good jump scare w the little girl.

Okay the lady in the barn was too much for me. Gore was too much.

"There are worse things than dying" Best line.

Okay first I was like "that's not vomit, it's too white" & then I realized she'd been in bed with her dude earlier & yelled "ew, is she puking cum?" at my computer because that's where my dumpster fire of a brain goes.

Poor horses :(

He just disappeared? TF?

Nah, I’m not feeling this.

#sage31days

2 notes · View notes

poli9048 · 4 years

Text

Part 2

"Righteous Christian"

It was after ten when Chris returned from Oprah's party. This time was especially pleasant to the young man: the foggy empty streets, filled with the echoing silence of the night, opened up space for thoughts and feelings. He couldn't get the image of the girl sitting on that small wooden nightstand out of the mind, how she's looking at Chris's face, scared from sudden and completely incomprehensible feelings, with a fervor in her eyes. The young man right now wanted to turn around, go into that house and press Leia to that hated for a few seconds nightstand, kiss so that the lipstick smeared the face, smears lay on the neck area. It was like she was a canvas and Chris was an artist, but it was just the opposite. This Frenchwoman made him change his emotions like the colors of a palette, mixing shades that had never been seen before. Sarah quickly faded into the background, the captivating scent of her perfume Chris no longer felt near, rather, did not want to feel near. In his mind's eye, he could smell the familiar scent of French lavender shampoo.

The Windows of his house were always warm with chandeliers with beautiful antique shades - mother loved things from flea markets and antique stores, so all the rooms were filled with old decor items bought for a few dollars. The front door was slightly ajar. Quite unusual at this hour of the night. He entered the house and smelled the sharp smell of alcohol.

-Mom, dad, I'm home!"

Chris walked down the hall. His father, Mr. Morris, was sitting in the living room watching TV, paying no attention to the images that flickered on the screen. His eyes were fixed blankly in front of him, his lips were muttering involuntarily, and with an exhausted hand he was furiously pulling back his hair.

-What's wrong, dad?-Chris asked carefully. At the sight of his father, something inside him shrank and sank-obviously nothing good was to be expected.

-Your mother... She... She's - " Mr. Morris gasped, his throat constricting. His speech was incoherent, his eyes wild, and his hands were shaking. - She got sick... Badly... With heart..."

-Where is she?-Chris could hardly believe his ears.

-In the hospital-having drained already not the first in a row a glass with alcohol, the father began to sob hysterically.

There was no point in asking him what hospital his mother was in, just as there was no point in running to it. The only facility that Mrs. Morris could have been in was Blackpaines, a hospital on the outskirts of Blackpain, a suburb of Seattle. The hour was late, and of course no one would let Chris into the room, and the attending doctor would not come until the morning.

After such news, the native bed seemed like a lot of small needles, digging into the body with every movement and thought. Chris didn't sleep a wink, trying all night to figure out if what he'd heard in the living room was a figment of his imagination after a cocktail, or a new problem in the Morris family's life. He stared ahead with slow, suffering eyes, letting his thoughts and images take him deep into his subconscious.

The boy remembered the taste of lipstick on his lips, hot breath in the area of the chin. A white cloud of smoke that had something in common between them faded into the darkness of his hair and fell over his lush lashes that covered his emerald eyes. After a little digging in the back of his mind, he remembered where the insolent neighbor had left a pack of thin cigarettes. His hand found a thin dark box with nicotine bundles inside. She didn't smoke American cigarettes; her brother sent her several blocks of French Marlboros. His gaze skimmed over the inscription; Chris had not studied French, and the young man simply could not hear this speech from someone other than a girl. The lighter was carefully placed in the same pack, so it was not difficult to smoke.Opening the window wide, Chris exhaled clouds of white smoke that disappeared into the night. The sky was surprisingly starry - the next day promised to be warm. His father was probably still sitting in the living room; there was no slamming of the door, no heavy footsteps. It's amazing how the absence of one person can turn a house into such an apathetic and dreary place.

Night gradually gave way to morning. The sky was lit up with timid sunlight, the ground was covered with a semi-transparent fog, and the air smelled fresh. The neighbor has already gone for a walk with the dogs, and the rest of the residents have started to get ready for work. It wasn't a very long walk to the hospital: ten minutes and you were there. Chris couldn't wait any longer and went to his mother.He saw streets that smelled of autumn rain, a few sluggish stray dogs, and houses where people were gradually leaving. Does this city wake up so early? The lights were on in the hospital, and a pleasant woman in the waiting room quickly ushered the young man into the cardiovascular surgery Department.

The room smelled of medicine and hope for the recovery of a loved one. His mother was sleeping, breathing steadily. Chris stared at his own face, and fragments of memories flashed through his mind: how she had taught him to ride a bike, carefully treating endless abrasions; how she had read him bedtime stories as a child - he loved the mysterious, fairy-tale, fascinating sound of her voice; tender warm hands stroking his head during a difficult school period; the way she gathered the whole family to spend an evening playing board games, invited neighbors to her birthday, which coincided with Independence day in a pleasant way. Chris found it hard to believe that this could be happening to her. Even more difficult was the thought that he was in danger of losing her. Forever.

The idyll of mother and son was disturbed by the creaking of the door, and a heavy man in a white coat entered the room.

-Good morning,-he greeted Chris and hurried to introduce himself.- I'm Dr. green, the attending physician, Mrs. Morris. Who am I dealing with?

-Kristoffer Morris, her son,-the young man said shortly. After a sleepless night, there was no strength to go into lengthy explanations.

-Nice to meet you,-Mr. green said, giving Chris a quick handshake while commenting on what had happened. "This is her second heart attack - not as severe or devastating, but you know, her body is already weakened.

Chris frowned.

-What are you implying?

-I mean, everything is stable now, but the medications that keep her stable need to be bought, and they are expensive. There may not be a strong need for them, but this is not guaranteed. Who knows what will happen next month, right?- Mr. green patted Chris gently on the shoulder and, after checking the readings on the device monitors, left for his morning rounds with his patients.

***

"Lord Jesus Christ, our God, bless us with food and drink through the prayers of Your most pure Mother and all your saints, for you are blessed forever and ever. Amen" the father's lips quickly whispered the usual prayer, after which the Brossard family members let go of each other's hands and began to eat. The dining room was filled with the head-spinning aroma of French cuisine, which Leia's mother adhered to, despite the fact that they had long left their native country. Mrs. Brossard sliced the chicken in a smooth motion and spread it out on the plates to match the clock on the wall.

-Lea, my mother and I have a favor to ask of you,-Mr. Brossard said, slowly turning his mirrored gaze on his daughter. It was probably only because Leia's father was a clergyman that she was tolerated by the school administration, because no one wanted to quarrel with the Confessor - especially the religious people, who were most of the older population of Seattle.

-I listening to you- Leah looked questioningly at his father.

-Our neighbors, the Morrisons, have family problems. Emily is in the hospital, and we have to help Chris while his father is away. Therefore, if he needs help, never refuse, you are a good girl, a good Christian-the father smiled gently from the corner of his lips.

***

The need for money for his mother's recovery made Chris think about work. The only thing he was good at was photography, so he decided to try to get a job at a local newspaper and went to the office the next day. Outside, the rain continued to fall, as if responding to the anguish that was tearing at Chris's soul.

The young man fidgeted with a battered portfolio - an old folder of his father, in which he had pasted several printed photos.

-May I come in?-he tapped steadily on the office door and went in after a soft "come in".The young editor-in-chief stood at his Desk, his black tie stretched at the neck, the collar of his ironed shirt unbuttoned, and a loose jacket over his broad shoulders. He was Smoking a cigarette, studying the latest issue of the newspaper. -Hello, Mr. Blythe.

-I'm listening- he said, looking Chris up and down, then stubbed out his cigarette and abruptly folded the newspaper.

- My name is Christopher Morris,-the young man began.-I'm a photographer, I'm looking for a job and I would like to get a job at your newspaper.-He handed the folder to the editor, but the editor did not move to take it, and only sneered.

-I'm sorry, friend, but we don't have a Union or a job center, and we don't need workers,- Mr. Blythe said, squinting and pulling a smug smile.

-At least, take a look at my work poi o-Losing his composure and completely forgetting about the need to make a good impression on the employer, Chris shoved the portfolio directly into the hands of the editor. He looked at Chris's work arrogantly for a while, turning the pages quickly and clearly trying to get rid of the annoying young man as soon as possible.

-The work is completely mediocre,-Mr. Blythe said at last.-I don't have instagram with a selection of aesthetic images for teenage girls. But as compensation for the time spent, I will take one photo from you.- he put one photo back in the Desk and handed the folder back.

Chris was filled with anger and resentment, but at himself, only at himself for the fact that the person closest to him needed help more than ever, and he could only imagine the rustle of bills in his hands, no more. Flipping through the portfolio, which now seemed like a useless collection of pictures, Chris discovered that Mr. Blythe had taken one of his favorite photos. A typical image of Leia from behind - it was one of the usual evenings when She came to smoke with him. Her hair was a little longer then, and she was facing the window, and the full moon shone on the curve of her back, the thinness of her shoulders, and the sheen of her hair.

2 notes · View notes

anangelicday-mrwolf · 4 years

Text

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 5 – Frankenstein’s Shadow

‘He wouldn’t give me that murderous glare of his just because it took only 2 days for me to get back here, would he?’ Thought Lunark as she fingered her hair once again, which she had brushed with care.

Although she came with a valid reason – Adne managed to unlock one of Ignes’s files less than 24 hours ago – she could not help getting worriedly conscious of the fact that the new file’s volume was so small compared to that of the first file she had delivered. So small she was not sure if this one even deserved to be labeled a file.

Fortunately for her, she was met with another reason not to chicken out and scram from Frankenstein’s island, upon picking up someone’s presence and tracking it down.

“You...?!”

Lunark exclaimed, identifying a very familiar man sitting by a tree perfumed with mosses.

“It’s been a while, 5th Elder. I mean, Lady Lunark.”

Lunark could feel her brain burning cold as soon as she assessed 3rd Elder’s face as he stood, for she had been dying to run into him.

“Sorry for not recognizing you for a sec. You’re missing a cloak.”

“...Well, on this island I’m not an elder of the Union.”

And no need for the clarification, thanks.

Lunark uttered an inner scorn as she scanned 3rd Elder’s outfit – black long-sleeved t-shirt and white pants. He looked so plain, so ordinary, so unlike a Union’s elder who at the same time used to be the right-hand man of the apex of the Union.

“Frankenstein told me everything. If I remember correctly, from now on you’ll be regularly stopping by in order to collect his old research data, to make use for treatment and rehab of werewolves that survived from... (The 3rd Elder winced ever-so-subtly before continuing.) From Maduke’s experiments... As well as invasion initiated by me and the 1st Elder.”

Lunark curtly nodded to show approval for the excuse she and Frankenstein devised for her visit, on the day she first arrived.

“Indeed. And thanks to a certain someone, Frankenstein and I have turned quite busy. I’m sure you’d know that neither of us has a lot of free time.”

No agreement or disagreement came from the 3rd Elder. He merely let his eyes escalate downwards to his feet.

“Anyways, what are you doing here? Seems to me you were moping or something.”

“Moping, huh...? Yes, maybe I was moping.”

“Really? The 3rd Elder? Moping? But too bad. The only interpretation I can make out of your confession is that you are bluffing in order to hide what you’ve been really up to. I know what you are like. And what you’ve done.”

The 3rd raised his eyes back to Lunark’s face in response to her sneer. However, he did not unzip his lips even a bit, perhaps because he knew he was in no position to prove her words wrong.

“While I’m at it, let me make one thing clear. Since Frankenstein chose to keep you close, I will not lay my hands on you. That I can promise. But in other words, that’s the only reason why I will ever leave you in one piece in the first place. Trust me – whenever I think about what you and the 1st Elder did to my people, I must fight my own urge to rip you into shreds this instant.”

Her audience stood frozen, taking in every syllable of her disdainful speech.

“If you ever plot something against Frankenstein, play hindrance in whatever he does, or take advantage of his hospitality, I WILL make you pay. And if he ever suffers a loss or damage because of you, I swear – I will make sure from then on, you won’t get to lift anything heavier than a spoon for the rest of your life.”

As she warned the 3rd Elder, Lunark’s face was surprisingly placid, her voice toned in its normal pitch. Still, the 3rd Elder could see she was as serious as she could be, for he felt as if he were up against a wrathful wolf about to lunge for its prey’s head.

Ironically, that was exactly what inclined him to point out what he just hypothesized.

“Funny.”

“What’s funny?”

“Please don’t get me wrong – I fully understand what you are saying. It’s just that... It sounded like you were giving a personal warning as ‘a woman caring for Frankenstein,’ not as ‘a werewolf warrior representing the entire wolfkind.’”

At once, Lunark’s pink eyes shuddered as if she were hit by a bullet.

“And it appears there is something more than comradeship or generosity at the basis of your words. Do you... Do you happen to harbor feelings for him?”

“Why would you care?!”

Lunark ended up stunning herself, her retort fashioned much sharper than she had intended.

“Does he know about this?”

And just like that, he completely turned the table on her.

“I’m not sure since when you have developed feelings for him, but I’m afraid your feelings will not be reciprocated. If I dare say, there’s a good chance your heart will wait endlessly for a single touch of light, only to wither into none, just like this nameless flower that has made poor haven under the shadow of this tree.”

“Did you take liking in reading poetry during free time? Moping is one thing, and now here you are, monologuing about flowers and shadow.”

“Yes, I did frame it a bit too fancy, but I was trying to be considerate. Apparently there’s a shadow in Frankenstein’s heart. Ever since we moved into this island, he has been leading an unusually reclusive life. I assume he tends to research and data categorization on this island and accommodates himself somewhere else.”

“...Why would you ‘assume’ that’s what he does?”

“Because he leaves every night and returns next morning, and I have no knowledge of what he does during his absence. I can only assume he fulfills his basic needs outside, since each time he returns in a new attire.”

The corner of Lunark’s eyes creased slightly upon unexpected discovery.

‘I did tell him to beware of the 3rd Elder, but... This is not exactly what I had in mind.’

It did not take long for Lunark to decide that her warning had nothing to do with Frankenstein’s behaviors. After all, Frankenstein and the 3rd Elder had been occupying this island before Muzaka made her his “secret agent.”

‘But why? There’s nothing strange in his caution against his enemy-turned-ally, but why would he choose the inconvenience of lodging himself away from a safehouse that comes with a perfect housing system?’ Lunark inwardly muttered to herself, reminiscing how awestruck she was during her tour of Frankenstein’s safehouse, impeccably furnished in terms of residential aspects that she even suspected he hired an expert designer for the job.

She was momentarily impelled to acquire more information on the matter, but she aborted the idea.

For the 3rd Elder learned something that could work against her in the future, there was no guarantee that continuing the conversation would be beneficial for her.

Therefore, she steeled her voice as she tried to conceal her fluster.

“So what? Like I said, it’s none of your business whether I have a crush on him or not. And what was that about my feelings and flowers? If you have time to come up with stupid metaphors and make yourself sound like 12th Elder before having dinner, just go back to your so-called moping session!”

Lunark turned herself away as coldly as possible. She had to refrain from telling him that if Frankenstein hears a word about this, she will murder him – that would only demonstrate how strong her feelings have grown.

As she kept her back straight and walked on, something caught her eyes. The next moment, her legs stopped altogether upon perceiving she was looking at a flower species she was highly familiar with.

‘This must be wolfsbane. Its color differs from the ones on our land, but the shape it blossomed into tells me it’s definitely a species of wolfsbane.’

As beautiful as it may be, wolfsbane possesses deadly poison, hidden behind aesthetic colors and contours that have won immense popularity among flower-lovers.

Ancient humans evidently were aware of wolfsbane’s toxicity, incorporating its poison in mythology as the beloved invention of Hecate, the Greek goddess of magic and witchcraft and the guardian deity of witches, and historically employing it as a kit to hunt wolves (a fact reflected in the flower’s etymology).

Thus in a way, wolfsbane is a botanical counterpart of a siren; let the creature cast its spell, and one may be irrevocably destroyed by its true nature.

‘And I guess for me, this flower is just like him...’

Lunark sighed heavily, emitting all the air supply she had been stocking, a proof that her life these days has become a total mess thanks to a certain blonde human.

‘I still can’t believe I was actually late to my lord’s recoronation because of him.’

The day Muzaka reclaimed the throne, Lunark was supposed to be in the very front of the werewolf attendants, as a warrior of wolfkind and one of Muzaka’s right-hand servants.

Alas, she was late to the ceremony because of Frankenstein.

At the time, she planned to attend the ceremony as soon as she was done talking to Frankenstein for one last time. Or rather, to be precise, she called KSA so that she could ask the KSA staff to relay her thank-you message for all the hard work he had done.

To her shock and dismay, she was met with a news that Frankenstein was gone, and even KSA had lost communications with him.

Out of severe alarm, she instantaneously requested communication with Tao and asked him what happened to Frankenstein. Tao filled her in about the reason why Frankenstein was gone, but not even he provided her with his location and plan, which were what really mattered to her.

After wasting her time talking to more people than she had in mind, as well as trying to restitch her mind, she realized she was late.

And until next day, until Frankenstein showed himself on the communications monitor out of blue to hand over his communicative coordinates for emergency use, she was on the edge of her seat for every second, like a job seeker waiting for the result of the very last job interview of her life after failing to hear back from dozens of potential employers.

Lunark knew very well that anything concerning the werewolf lord comes in as the top priority for a werewolf warrior.

‘But back then, I couldn’t think of the coronation ceremony at all because of him. Seriously... What have you done to me, Frankenstein?’

Yet she knew what was happening to her. She knew since who-knows-when, Frankenstein had taken property of every seam and corner of her heart.

‘This flower happens to be purple like him. Or rather, purple like that cursed weapon he wields.’

Great, now I think of him even when I see the color purple, thought Lunark, as she once again confirmed she was exhibiting one of those symptoms of love.

“Hopeless... This is just hopeless.”

“What is hopeless?”

Lunark jumped like a cat that spotted a cucumber at its rear end as she turned around in a flash. Luckily, Frankenstein dodged her hair fast enough and avoided getting slapped in the face.

“W-what are you doing here?”

“Says a guest to the owner of an island.”

Frankenstein shrugged, as if he had just heard the funniest thing in the world. And a mere shrug, with the push of his smile, was more than enough to shatter Lunark’s heart once again. Which was why she suffered a delay in noticing that he was not empty-handed.

He was holding a plastic case safekeeping a pair of sanitary gloves and plastic bags for sampling, along with a dirty yet well-honed gardening utensil, which hinted her what he was here for.

“I’m sure you have no interest in pressing flowers or gardening. Are you using this flower for your experiment or something?”

“Not an experiment. It’s for a personal need,” replied Frankenstein, as he kneeled and started poking and shoving around a wolfsbane’s root in a very professional manner.

“Why would you take a wolfsbane plant for a personal need? I don’t count myself as one of those lab people, but I do know that most of flower species classified under the category of wolfsbane come with poison. Well, though I doubt that its poison will be lethal for modified humans or non-humans, even if it is ingested entirely as a raw plant.”

“Right. And some wolfsbane species are so venomous that even a minimum touch on skin can cause traumatizing and even life-threatening effect on human body. However, wolfsbane is also available for medical use. Even these days, wolfsbane is used as painkiller and, depending on the situation, cardiac stimulant in traditional Korean and Chinese medicine.”

Frankenstein answered with a tone only expected from most popular lecturers in doctorate chemistry lectures. Nevertheless, Lunark’s face darkened even before he could finish his words.

“So are you going for the former or the latter? Are you ill? So ill you must carry a painkiller or cardiac drug all the time?”

“If I were to choose, I would say it’s the latter. But not exactly. And don’t worry – I don’t have any pain or heart issue.”

Frankenstein glanced at Lunark and was left with bewilderment as a result. She was staring at him as if he were just sentenced to death.

“...No need to give me that look. Remember that I told you a wolfsbane can be used to create drugs that stimulate heart functions? I have modified and adjusted the use and processing of a cardiac stimulant to instead use this flower as a source of a nerve stimulant.”

“Meaning...?”

“It’s for keeping me awake as long as its effect lasts, without any need for sleep.”

Frankenstein was hoping to relieve her of concerns, but Lunark did not look happy at all. Her forehead furrowed deeply, now her face so dark that in other circumstances, Frankenstein would have concluded one of her kith and kin met demise.

“Are you saying you haven’t slept at all ever since you moved into this island? Just how busy can you be? Do you have to stay awake for whatever you have at hand?”

“...I’m in no situation to indulge in sleep or dreams.”

Lunark bit her lips as the fact sank that she was wrong. When she talked to the 3rd Elder, she was glad Frankenstein was seemingly getting some sleep, at the very least. But he was not.

Lunark was about to amplify her voice to shriek what on Earth he would do outside this island, before she managed to hold her tongue.

Confronting Frankenstein about his activities outside would make him curious of the source of her intelligence, which would lead to a discussion on the discussion she had with the 3rd Elder. And Lunark was not sure if she could lie about her previous conversation, let alone her feelings for him.

In addition, knowing his personality, she could swear he would not listen even if she were to be a mom for him just this once. Given up on reasoning with him, she directed his attention to a speculation that just came up.

“I remember how you drank something from your flask when I first got here. Was that a drug you made with wolfsbane flowers?”

Frankenstein’s hands paused for a second in reaction.

Frankenstein remembered what he gave her as a reply when she inquired what he was drinking; he kept his answer as vague and not-worthy-of-attention as he could. And he surely did not mention to her in what form the tonic came in. Yet here he was, marveling once again that there was a reason why Lunark was made an elder of the Union.

“Yep. That was it.”

“I didn’t think this was what you meant when you said it’s like coffee to you. And I bet you were the one who came up with the recipe to cook up that drug.”

“Of course. The other uses for wolfsbane plant include fever reducer at the most, and apart from the use of wolfsbane, it’s been centuries since human medicine last had its effect on me. And speaking of which, I must go through a revision of my cookbook. The number of wolfsbane plant on this island is decreasing as we speak, so I won’t be able to make any more effective tonic unless I modify the amount of poison to be used.”

“So you’ve been basically feeding on this flower.”

“Yes, but it’s also partially because this island was never densely populated by this flower. Now I basically have to hunt for a needle in a haystack in order to find a wholesome plant.”

“...Want me to bring them to you?”

Frankenstein stopped his hands from pulling out a wolfsbane flower to gape at her.

“Well, there is this enormous colony of wolfsbane flowers near the boundaries of our territory. And no one has ever touched it as far as I know, since we’ve never imagined using this flower for medicinal purpose. And trust me – this colony is big enough to cover the entire Pacific. The thing is, the wolfsbane in our land is probably a different species from this one, because its flower is pink. I’m not sure if you can use it for your ‘recipe,’ but I can fetch one as a sample for my next visit. What do you say?”

Frankenstein was silent. His ears did prick at her suggestion; he could actually hear Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9 echoing in his head.

‘But if I say yes... I’ll end up running into her more often.’

Opposed to the obvious outcome, he briefly tried to come up with a way to very courteously turn down her offer, with a legitimate reason that will not hurt her feelings.

But of course, he knew he had no choice. He was aware of the ill effect he will bring upon himself if he were to say no.

“It’s fine. It’s all good as long as it comes under wolfsbane category.”

“So you mean...”

“From now on, bring me three separate wolfsbane flowers, if you please. And each flower must come with complete roots as well, undamaged, and hopefully in a sample bag like this one.”

“Okay. No biggie.”

Lunark had to control her voice so she would not sound too excited for having another defensible excuse to visit Frankenstein. Fighting against her glee, she forced the corner of her lips to stay uncrooked.

Partially due to her mind-numbing elation, and partially due to the fact that Frankenstein turned away as he invited her over to the safehouse, Lunark failed to notice that the shadow on his face thickened by a very slim shade.

*****

That night, Frankenstein walked through the corridor of another island he owned. He was at a stranded island dozens of kilometers away from his lab-slash-safehouse. Unlike the aforementioned island, this island housed not a single speck of green, an unparalleled embodiment of Lunark’s description of “a sandless desert with a gigantic cement appendage jutting out of the ground, prisoned by water at all sides.”

And this is where Frankenstein had been taking care of his basic human needs. And more importantly, this is where he had been secretly endeavoring to handle a dilemma that had lately cast a new shadow upon him.

Finally arriving at the special chamber at the heart of the building, he securely fastened the door in order to face the said dilemma once again.

“Answer to my call... Dark Spear.”

(next chapter)

Aaaaand here it is - the flower from which I came up with the title of this fanfic.

I didn’t plan on naming this fanfic Wolfsbane since the beginning. During the brainstorming stage, I landed upon some details about wolfsbane by pure accident, and as I read about this plant, I came to think this is exactly what represents the relationship of Frankie and Lunark and the progress they will make in this fic (and it’s related to wolf lol). The line in this chapter that says “let the creature cast its spell, and one may be irrevocably destroyed by its true nature” is what I had in mind as I sketched this fanfic.

By the way, there are two things about this chapter that isn’t canon in real life: (1) the fact that wolfsbane is used as a nerve stimulant and (2) the pink wolfsbane that can be found in nature. It is true that in traditional Korean and Chinese medicine, wolfsbane can be used as cardiac stimulant or painkiller. But in reality it is not used as a nerve stimulant; that part is my creation. In addition, pink wolfsbane does exist, but only as human-cultivated species; pink wolfsbane does not naturally occur. So for this fic, I created a wolfsbane species of my own (the purple wolfsbane that you would commonly see upon googling is Aconitum jaluense. The pink wolfsbane species that is introduced in this fic is Aconitum crescentonum). Hope that clarifies!

#fanfic #korean webcomic #korean webtoon #noblesse #frankenstein #lunark #frankensteinxlunark #wolfsbane

2 notes · View notes

jinterlude · 5 years

Text

What A Cliché (Prologue)

↳ story aesthetic made by @today-we-will-survive for the BA’s Summer Content Creator Exchange!

» Pairing(s): Kim Seokjin x OC (female) [feat. the rest of the BTS & OC best friend)

» Genre(s): Parenthood!AU, Veterinary!AU, Business!AU, Enemies turned Lovers Trope, Romance, Friendship, Humor, Fluff, & Slight-Angst

» Keyword for Event: Carnival

» Warning(s) & Rating: Swearing / PG-13

» Words: 5.2K (5260)

» Summary: When people hear the phrase, “Well that’s a first...” it’s usually because something shocking or amazing has occurred. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case for one Park Sumin. Going from working in an office to visiting the local carnival, she had some rather interesting first experiences. Ranging from trying out some carnival food to questioning her engagement to Lee Seonghwa (AOMG’s Gray), never in her life did she think that she would run into someone her brain had blocked out for years. Can you say a fun filled summer that not only would change her life but his as well.

◃ Previously | Next Time ▹

Prologue: Meet the New Neighbor

“You know…I have a feeling that you two would make the perfect couple someday…”

“By perfect, you mean that I’d want to kill him every waking moment I can get, right?”

“Nah, my precious little ray of sunshine. I mean that one day, you two will make gorgeous looking children to the point that I’m going to “borrow” one of them to pick up guys.”

A look of utter and complete disbelieve washed over her face as she felt her eye twitch just a smidge from her best friend’s remark.

And just as she opened her mouth to retort, an annoying voice rang in her ears. The one voice she took years of practice to block out him from her memories. Until that evening, she had long forgotten the prick that made her life a living Hell, but fate had an interesting idea of entertainment and unfortunately, she had become the main character of this stupid little sitcom.

God help her…

“You should learn to smile more often, princess! You might land more dates that way!”

“That’s it! Listen here you annoying fucking gnat!”

Eight Hours Earlier…

Letting out yet another long, exasperated sigh, a visibly tired young woman rubbed the sides of her forehead, trying her hardest to not only ignore the unbearable heat that lingered in her office but her rather extra chatty friend. The poor girl had honestly forgotten why she invaded her workplace in the first place. That was how long the rather one-sided conversation had become.

“Okay, Sowon, I love you, but please for the love of God get to the point.” Said the exhausted girl.

A tiny groan escaped Sowon’s lips as she narrowed her eyes onto her friend.

“I did get to my point, Sumin.” She flashed a bright smile further irking Sumin, “Now, I’m just rambling since I noticed you zoned out around the five-minute mark.” She stated, smiling sweetly.

Her bottom lip practically disappeared as Sumin suppressed the growl that brewed in the back of her throat. Did Sowon seriously ramble her ear off just because she tuned her out twenty-minutes ago?

If she had more friends, Sumin would’ve had honestly dropped Sowon years ago but alas, she didn’t. The career driven young woman had no time for herself, let alone go out and meet new people. She had always been like this ever since high school. She dedicated her time to her studies and a few extracurricular activities.

And that was exactly how she liked it.

She had seen her fellow classmates become a social mess. She had witnessed physical fights, loud, obnoxious arguments between love sick individuals, and that only scratched the surface of her high school experience and she gladly kept it that way.

She never dated. She never went to any of the sports games that were played at her school. Shit. She never attended any of her school dances, especially prom. Instead, she researched universities that had the best business program and weighed the pros and cons of attending them.

After days and nights of agonizing over which university to attend to, she finally settled on applying to USC because their business program was on par with those out of the country, and the rest was history.

Now, here she sat in her office chair while Sowon, who she met during her sophomore year of college in biology, stared her down. Her gaze intensified with each passing moment. That was Sowon’s superpower. Sumin didn’t know how Sowon does it, but with just one simple stare, Sumin submitted easily.

And quite frankly, she both despised it yet was thankful for it. It was because of her best friend that she slowly came out of her shell. She actually became more aware of her surroundings.

Go figure?

A few more minutes passed by and tiny whines left her lips as Sumin clutched important documents that contained hypothetical numbers of the projected money flow for the next six months.

“I can keep this up, sunshine.” Sumin heard Sowon taunt. She could practically hear the smugness radiate from her words.

Finally, the poor girl had enough. She slammed the paper down on her desk, unleashing the pent-up frustration that settled in the pit of her stomach.

“Fine! I’ll go to the stupid summer carnival with you! Now, will you please stop staring at me!?” Sumin practically roared, secretly thankful that her office was soundproof.

Sowon smiled proudly as she leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Done.”

Meanwhile…in a different part of the city…

Brows knitted together. Tiny drops of sweat trickled down his forehead. The sound of heart rate monitors mixed with his heavy breathing filled the operating room. This bright, luminescence bulb emitted this heat that felt like the sun was directly above the man’s head. However, he didn’t let it deter him from the task at hand. He quickly asked the nurse for his water and took a few sips through the straw before resuming the surgery.

“Sir,” The man heard one of his assistants speak, “Have you thought about the possibility of reconstructive surgery instead of removing the shard fragment?”

The determined man sighed before a small smile appeared on his handsome face.

“I have thought about it, but that would be the effortless way out. This innocent creature doesn’t deserve something that would only complicate her life some more, “He paused, wiping away a bit of sweat from the side of his forehead, “Besides, I think of this a big “fuck you” to that evil, cruel person that could harm a defenseless puppy. I’m going to save her if this is the last thing I do.” He finished with this sense of purpose flowing throughout his veins as he resumed operating on the puppy, praying that he wasn’t too late.

But luckily…

He wasn’t…

It took him the rest of the day to the point that he had his receptionist unfortunately cancel the remaining appointments, but he saved the puppy’s life. The last shard fragment was wedged in an area where one false movement with his knife and tweezers, the puppy would've died right on the operating table. That specific situation had been every veterinarian’s nightmare, but just like with any nightmare, it sometimes fades away and soon replaced with a relaxing dream. A dream where resulted in this state of euphoria and great night’s sleep. That was why he took this job as a veterinarian. He wanted to ensure that the animals that came into his office left with a peaceful state of mind.

And so far, so good. His track record remained spotless. He could now go home with a bright smile knowing that he saved yet another brutally injured animal.

Currently sitting in his office, the tired yet happy veterinarian typed out something in the body of the email message. He muttered a few words as he read his paragraph repeatedly until it sounded right.

The sounds of clicking of the keyboard bounced of the four walls until this knock joined in.

“Come in.” He said quickly.

“Hey, Seokjin!” greeted the stranger cheerfully.

Seokjin’s eyebrows raised as he peeked around his computer monitor. He knew that voice, and that particular voice didn’t usually visit his office unless the person wanted something.

His eyes flickered back to the screen as his fingers resumed typing away, hoping that this email would be sent out before 7 o’clock in the evening.

“What do you want, Jungkook? Can’t you see that I’m busy?”

Jungkook chuckled, shaking his head as he flopped down on the chair in front of his friend’s desk.

“Yeah, I can see that. I’m not blind…well…not yet.”

Seokjin snorted, “I’m honestly surprised that you’re not actually. All those years of playing video games with the lights off,” He pushed up his glasses just a bit, “Guess I wasn’t blessed with a strong eyesight to begin with.” He said; the corners of his mouth turned slightly upwards.

Jungkook playfully clicked his tongue, “Yeah. I guess not,” A short chuckle left his lips, “But, I was wondering if you wanted to come with me and the rest of the fellas to the summer carnival that’s currently in town?” He asked, flashing Seokjin an overly sweetly smile combined with his signature innocent, charming gaze. One gaze like that and his older friends were practically putty in his hands. It came in handy during their high school years. Well…up until his sophomore year…his friends graduated one by one, so he had no one left to use it on.

Sad day in the life that was Jeon Jungkook.

“You do realize that this isn’t high school, and I’m not this 18-year-old teen that you can easily manipulate, Kook.” Seokjin stated bluntly, fully aware of his purely innocent “stare”. He didn’t even to peer over his computer screen to know. Jungkook’s tone of voice gave it away.

Though, that didn’t deter the young lad. It was rare for all seven of them to be in town for the summer, so he wanted to cherish it. As soon as Seokjin graduated high school, everyone just went their separate ways. Sure, they had their group chat that had constant activity whether it was from someone sending random memes or simply asking how their day was. But it just wasn’t the same.

Even though his friends didn’t know this, Jungkook needed them. He couldn’t quite establish a bond that matched the one he shared with Seokjin and the rest of his little motley crew.

They were definitely one of a kind…

“What’s with that smile, Kook? Last time you smiled like that it was because you found a lamb skewer stand with Yoongi.” Seokjin’s voice forcibly pulled Jungkook out of his peaceful thoughts.

“Oh, this smile?” He pointed at his lips, “It’s nothing…say…when is that little ray of sunshine coming by?” Jungkook asked vaguely, drawing out his sentence.

Seokjin hummed in response as his eyes scanned the last remaining sentences of his email. He could see the light at the end of the tunnel.

“Oh, according to her mother, she’s dropping off Areum this evening,” He quickly checks his phone, scrolling through his messages from his ex-wife, “Around 9 o’clock in the evening.” He announced, locking his phone once again.

Jungkook gasped; his eyes beamed from excitement. This was perfect. He and friends could spend a few hours at the carnival and then hang out with their “niece”.

“So, you’re telling me that you have time for the carnival?”

“I guess I am Kook…”

“Perfect! I’ll let the fellas know!”

“Don’t let me regret this…”

“When I have ever done something that you’d regret?”

“I can name a few things…”

At the Summer Carnival – 7 o’clock in the evening

Walking down the busy row of stands, Sumin’s eyes remained glued on her phone. Her brows furrowed as her thumb scrolled up while she read the contents of an email that she had received minutes before arriving to the carnival. Soft mutters left her lips as she homed in on an incredibly important section of the email. She reread the same two sentences twice before this unsettling, heavy sensation settled within the pit of her stomach.

The color practically drained from her face. Her breath hitched. She halted in her steps, ignoring the grumbles of the many bystanders that were forced to go around her.

A low groan escaped her as she immediately locked her phone and shoved it in her back pocket. Did she really want to be at this stupid carnival? She needed to be back in the office and working on soothing this rather extreme angry client, that was “miraculously” bestowed upon her thanks to her supervisor. Why was she even here again?

“Sumin! Check out this stand, they have those churros that you’re basically obsessed with!” She heard Sowon shout with glee, waving her arms sporadically.

Oh…

That was right…

She was here because of her dearest friend…

“I think I’m going to call it, Sowon. I have to get up pretty early tomorrow, and—”

“No ‘and’. I know that look on your face, my little sunshine, and I’m not completely oblivious. I saw you on your phone and your eyes widened with each passing second.” Sowon interrupted, leaving her spot in the line and walking up to her completely distressed friend, “Which means in the world of Sumin, you’re extremely stressed and about to leave this relaxing sister-date to head back to the office and work on something that can honestly wait until tomorrow morning.” Sowon finished, smiling brightly. “Did I hit it right on the nail, my soft princess?” She added; her smile grew wider.

Sumin made a face; her eyes narrowed on her smug friend.

“I hate it when you do that…”

“I know you do…”

Meanwhile, while one crisis was averted, on the other side of the carnival, two fellas bickered over the last game ticket while their mutual friends watched both sides make excellent arguments on why he deserved the last game ticket. The only thing they missed, to make this verbal battle amusing, was some carnival snacks.

Stuffing his hands in the pockets of his black jacket, a gentleman with black-rimmed glasses and faded silver hair – that was swooped to the right – leaned against the wall; an amused smile painted his lips.

“Are you going to stop them, Namjoon?” asked a young man with chestnut brown hair. His eyes sparkled with such innocence that many people forget that he was indeed in his mid-twenties.

“Nah. They’re fine Jimin. Besides, remember the last time we intervened on an infamous Seokjin-Jungkook argument?” Namjoon replied, shooting Jimin a knowing look. But just as Jimin opened his mouth to answer, someone else beat him to the punch.

“Oh, that was a fun evening!” shouted a cheery voice; a few chuckles escaped him. “They turned their wrath onto us, and even told Yoongi to shut up.” A sigh of content left his lips this time as he folded his hands and rested his head against the palms, “What a memorable evening.”

Namjoon nodded in agreement as he turned his attention towards a paler looking fella.

“I was honestly surprised that Jungkook told you to shut up, Yoongs.”

Yoongi pried one eye open, having checked out of Jungkook’s and Seokjin’s marital bickering thirty minutes prior.

With a lazy voice, he said, “That boy is lucky for not fearing me.”

“After being friends with you for so long, none of us fear you, my dude.” Chimed in the same cheery voice that spoke earlier.

“Hm. I guess I’m losing my charm, Hoseok.” Yoongi shrugged, shutting his eyes closed again. One of the many “joys” of being your own boss. He didn’t have a set work shift.

Hoseok beamed; his smile could light up any dark alleyway, before adverting his attention back to Seokjin and Jungkook, who still refused to back down.

Two hours had passed and not only did the bickering duo slowly ran out of the counterarguments, but their friends were extremely bored and wanted to enjoy what was left of the carnival.

Finally fed up, Namjoon pushed off from the wall and then walked up to Seokjin and Jungkook, pulling out his wallet as he closed the gap between their bodies.

“Tell you what,” He began fishing out a few bills, “Take my money and buy you guys some more damn tickets, so you guys can finally shut the fuck up.” Namjoon stated bluntly before slapping the bills in both Seokjin’s and Jungkook’s hands, knowingly hurting them in the process. He then walked away from them, gesturing for their buddies to follow him.

They were determined to enjoy the carnival before it closed for the night.

As their closest friends walked away, slowly disappearing from their line of sight, the squabbling duo turned to each other; this mischievous gleam sparkled in their eyes accompanied with this scheming smirk.

“That took longer than expected.” Jungkook laughed, flinging an arm around Seokjin’s broad shoulders.

Seokjin chuckled in response as he allowed Jungkook to direct him to the nearest game stand.

“I know, right? We must be losing our touch since before, Namjoon usually settled our “arguments” in less than an hour.” He stated as his eyes scanned the prizes at the booth. His lips pursed while his brows became knitted together as Seokjin contemplated which prize would Areum love the most.

This faint hum exited his lips as his eyes drifted between a huge stuffed alpaca and a huge stuffed panda bear. Then, after much deliberation, he finally settled on the alpaca since she loved to remind him that whenever he ate, he looked like a happy alpaca, especially whenever he munched on a salad. He could honestly hear her faint giggles in the back of his mind.

God, he would do anything for his daughter. She had him wrapped around her dainty pinky finger.

With a determined smile, he slammed down a few dollar bills and waited to be handed some darts.

“Alright, prepare to be amazed, Kook.”

Back with the ladies, who now held onto plates with delicious carnival food, they journeyed towards the exit, talking about everything and anything that came to mind. Ranging from the topic of their love lives – or lack thereof – to the ever so fun work politics that occurred during their daily lives. However, the most popular topic was their time in high school. While, yes, they went to two different schools, they loved hearing about the other’s experience. Hearing such stories made the other feel like she was there as well.

“So, whatever happened to the guy that stupidly stood you up at homecoming, Sowon?”

“Beats me. All I know is that he asked for me at my school’s little reunion event. From what an old friend told me, the way he asked was very creepy. Borderline stalkerish if you ask me.”

Sumin shuddered, “Things like that makes me glad that I didn’t have a social life in high school.”

Sowon chuckled softly as she quickly tossed her empty, Styrofoam plate and jogged back to Sumin.

“Yeah, but it is because of said social life that I know who my loyal friends are and know how to handle myself in certain situations.” She pointed out with a knowing gleam in her eyes.

Sumin rolled her eyes in response, signaling Sowon that she had won that argument.

“Let’s get you home, princess. I believe it is passed your bedtime.”

“What are you? My mom?”

“I might as well be, Min.”

Sowon then flung her arms around Sumin’s shoulders as the two ladies head for Sowon’s car and begin their journey to Sumin’s place.

Faint muffles filled the spacious car as flashes of light illuminated the darkness every other minute. Resting her chin on the palm of her hand, Sumin stared absentmindedly out the window; her eyes focused on the happy couples. Each face painted with the brightest and most loving smile ever to grace them.

Soon, a soft sigh escaped her as she pried her eyes away from the window. Though, while she no longer saw them, her mind was filled with thoughts of them. Thoughts of envy? Longing? That had been yet to be determined.

Which was strange to her as for the obvious fact that she too was in a relationship.

But…

“I just now realized that you are not wearing your luxurious engagement ring that Seonghwa gave you, Min.” Sowon’s voice broke into her cloudy thoughts.

Sumin’s eyes trailed down, landing on her empty left ring finger.

“I knew I forgot something.” She lied, faking a playful smile.

But Sowon knew better.

“Is everything alright?” She asked as she slowed the car to stop as the traffic light went from yellow to red.

Sounds of the turn signal cut through the awkward silence. Sumin hoped that the light would turn green so that she’d be closer to home but alas, it wasn’t the case. This was a timed light, and the timing of it was abnormally long for a traffic light.

She could stall, but that would only annoy Sowon, so why should Sumin even try? Her closest and dearest friend wasn’t stupid. If anything, she wouldn’t be surprised if Sowon knew that she was thinking of backing out of the wedding.

“Do I want to get married, Sowon?” asked Sumin, phrasing her question a bit oddly.

Sowon raised a brow as she shifted her foot from the brake pedal to the gas pedal, lightly pressing as she turned on to the street where Sumin’s house resided at. A house where she lived with her doting fiancé.

The poor girl looked unsure how to answer such a question. If it was a question that asked her if she wanted to get married, then the answer would be plain and simple. No. No she didn’t want to get married or at least, not right now. She so much desired to live her twenties to the fullest. Then, once it was time, she would gladly settle down with the right person.

And yet with Sumin? Sowon was quite surprised that she was having doubts. Out of the two them, Sumin would be happily married first with kiddos running amuck and then Aunty Sowon would help wrangle them and/or create more chaos for their parents.

But with this sudden 180, Sowon grew even more confused.

Did she have to kill Seonghwa? Because she totally would. No one was allowed to hurt Sumin under her watch.

No one.

Pursing her lips, Sowon hummed in response, as she pulled up to Sumin’s driveway, where both Sumin’s and her fiancé’s car were currently parked.

Before finally answering, Sowon killed the engine, and the two girls now sat in complete and utter silence.

“Alright, to answer your question, I know that you want to get married, however, is it to Seonghwa? Only you can answer that, love. But you did say yes to him for a reason, so that has to mean something, right?”

Sumin sighed heavily; her shoulders slumped just a bit.

“I did, I mean don’t get me wrong, I do love him with all my heart but—”

“But you don't know if it’s enough to meet him at the altar, correct?”

Instead of answering, Sumin gave Sowon a thumb’s up before exiting the vehicle and as she stepped out, a car pulled up to her neighbor’s driveway. A neighbor who she had never seen since their schedules always had them missing one another by a split second, so this was a first. Well, overall, this night was filled with firsts, so this wasn’t too much of a shock factor.

Seconds later, Sowon too exited the vehicle, shutting the door and alarming it. She then leaned against the door; curiosity slowly bested her as she noticed Sumin’s body language tense just a smidge.

“You alright there, sunshine?!” She hollered, cupping her mouth, though, she didn’t have to do that since they were not that far away from each other.

However, she received no response from Sumin for a good minute or two.

Until…

“YOU!!”

Two voices shouted simultaneously.

Alarmed, Sumin’s fiancé came running out of the house dawning his work clothes still.

“Are you okay, honey?” he asked, closing the gap between their bodies, as he gently rested his hand on her lower back.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Seonghwa. I just got startled by a familiar face is all.” She lied flawlessly, smiling sweetly.

Seonghwa hummed in response, not fully believing her, but he knew it was best to drop it.

“Okay. I’m gonna head back inside and finish up this project. Holler if you need me, okay, love?” He said, pressing a sweet kiss on her temple before disappearing inside the house.

The second she heard the door shut, Sumin’s sweet demeanor melted away and was soon replaced with the fiery rage that engulfed her body and soul moments prior.

“Wow. I’m amazed. You actually tricked someone into dating your strange self,” The intruder began applauding slowly with a sarcastic smile etched on his face, “I’m completely inspired by your story now.” He added, further taunting poor Sumin.

Sowon raised her brow, slowly going into defensive mode but held back as she wanted to see more of their reactions. In her life of knowing Sumin, Sowon only ever saw her little sunshine become this spitfire with her only. So, who the Hell was this handsome gentleman that easily riled her soft princess up?

She had to find out.

And maybe…just maybe…he might be the answer to Sumin’s tricky question.

A low – almost animalistic – growl escaped Sumin’s lips as she stomped over to her neighbor; their chests practically touched each other.

“Listen here, Seokjin—”

“I’m sorry. Can you repeat that? You might have to speak up, short stuff.” Seokjin cupped his ear as he leaned downwards; their noses merely inches away from bumping into each other.

Sumin’s jaw clenched and through gritted teeth, she said, well shouted,

“Can you hear me now, huh, you prick?!”

Seokjin groaned, jolting his body away, as he rubbed his poor ear while this ringing sensation echoed throughout his now muddled mind.

Damn that woman had a pair of lungs on her.

“I think you busted my eardrum…!”

“Well, that’s what you get for standing so incredibly close to me, dumbass!”

Tensions arose between the two as their blood slowly came to a boil. Seokjin and Sumin had history. A rather long history that remained in the archives until this evening.

Again, a night filled with firsts.

Just as Seokjin opened his mouth to retaliate, a laughter cut him off. He was secretly glad that someone else intervened. He honestly didn’t have to time to entertain the spitfire that stood courageously in front of him. His daughter was to arrive at any moment.

The last thing he wanted his six-year-old to see was him shouting at a woman.

“You know, we got to work on you playing nice with others, Sumin.” Chimed in Sowon as she walked up to the pair and rested an arm on Sumin’s shoulder.

“And may I ask who you are?” Seokjin questioned, looking a bit unimpressed.

Sowon held out her hand and quickly introduced herself, shaking Seokjin’s hand with her signature thousand-watt smile.

“Ah, and how do you know the pain in the ass?”

“I can ask you the same thing, Jinnie boy.”

“Jinnie boy?” He questioned, directing it more towards Sumin.

Sumin simply shrugged, “Just go with it.”

“Well, I’ve known her since middle school believe it or not.”

Sowon raised her brow; her eyes roamed all over his body as if she tried to decipher his hidden secrets.

“Interesting. Well, as much as I’d like to continue this conversation, I don’t,” She then turned Sumin around, “Time for bed, Min.” She stated firmly before guiding them both back to Sumin’s house, leaving behind a flabbergasted Seokjin.

“You know…I have a feeling that you two would make the perfect couple someday…” teased the taller woman as they crossed the threshold between Sumin’s house and Seokjin’s house.

Sumin grimaced, nearly wanting to gag, “By perfect, you mean that I’d want to kill him every waking moment I can get, right?”

“Nah, my precious little ray of sunshine. I mean that one day, you two will make gorgeous looking children to the point that I’m going to “borrow” one of them to pick up guys.” Sowon clarified, grinning from ear to ear.

A look of utter and complete disbelieve washed over her face as she felt her eye twitch just a smidge from her best friend’s remark.

God help her…

“You should learn to smile more often, princess! You might land more dates that way!”

“That’s it! Listen here you annoying fucking gnat!”

However, before Sumin could storm over to Seokjin again, Sowon blocked her path.

“Alright, young lady, someone’s getting cranky. You march to your room and tell Seonghwa that you want to cuddle.”

“But!”

“March!”

Sumin frowned before submitting to her friend, of course, muttering a few profanities as she stomped up the stairs that led to the front door.

Once Sumin was inside, Sowon waited a few seconds before walking up to Seokjin, who appeared to be texting someone.

“So, how do you truly feel about Sumin?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

Seokjin’s face remained blank, “I tolerate her existence. Why?”

“I asked how you truly feel about her, not lie about it.” Sowon stated, shooting him a knowing look.

Seokjin, on the other hand, grew unsure. What did she mean, exactly?

“Sleep on it.” Sowon suggested before walking to her car and finally head home for herself.

Seokjin watched the strange woman drive out of his neighborhood. Her words repeated in his mind. He was almost certain that he just tolerated Sumin’s existence. Sure, there had been a time in his life that he harbored romantic feelings for her, but he had been long married since then. Well, now divorced, but that was beside the point.

It was through that marriage that he had Areum. The light of his life.

Yeah, he didn’t need any other leading lady in his life.

Right?

Before he could fully dive into those thoughts, a bright light nearly blinded him followed by this obnoxious honking.

“Dad!” shouted a voice. A voice Seokjin knew all too well. The same voice that easily brought a smile to his face.

“Areum!” He greeted back; his face practically beamed. He happily waved as the car came to a stop and this little girl came running out of the backseat and towards him.

Seokjin knelt down, ready for the biggest hug ever. And just as she slammed into him, he protectively wrapped his arms around her petite body as the two fell onto the grass.

“Remember to behave for your dad, Areum!” chuckled an older woman, shaking her head as she walked up to the loving duo with a tiny suitcase.

“I will mommy.” Areum smiled as she became smothered with Seokjin’s fatherly kisses.

“Yeah, don’t worry Eunji, our little girl is an angel.”

“Whatever you say, Seokjin. By the way, did you know that our old friend Sumin lived right next door to you?”

Seokjin instantly became alarmed. How did his ex-wife know that? So, naturally, he asked.

Eunji laughed softly, “Just because you had a falling out with her, doesn’t mean that I did, so I saw it on her social media account that she moved to that house.”

“And you didn’t tell me this while I was looking for a place to live because?”

“Because I love seeing you make a fool of yourself in front of her.”

But before Seokjin could say something, refuting his ex-wife’s claims, Eunji had entered her car and clicked on her seatbelt. Then, he saw the reverse lights turn on and watched her pull out of his driveway.

She was always an interesting woman…

“Why is your mom weird?”

“I don’t know, probably for the same reason as to why she called you coward on our way here, daddy?”

“She what, now?”

A/N: I am back! Cue the fanfare and confetti canon! I’m honestly both surprised and proud of myself for not only picking up writing again but starting another series (low key crying because Our Second Chance isn’t done yet, but I am working on it LOL)! At first, I wanted to take the word carnival and incorporate the movie Sandlot and A League of Their Own into it, but sadly, I hit a bad writers’ block, so I just scrapped that idea completely and with the help of @softjeon who helped me with some overall story ideas, this came to be! Plus, it helps that in BTS World, Seokjin’s another story line is so cute, especially with the little girl (who of course makes an appearance as his daughter in this short series <3) being kind of hard to please. Yes, make Jinnie work for it!

But anyway, as of right now, I don’t have a set schedule for this as I like to write whenever I have both the time and inspiration but knowing me, I’ll start releasing updates over the course of Autumn/Winter along with the last chapters of Our Second Chance!

Don’t forget to leave a like/reblog/comment/ask in my inbox! I love hearing your thoughts! :)

- Kim

40 notes · View notes

scaryscarecrows · 5 years

Note

Hi! I love all your work, especially with the militia. Do you think you could give a physical description (hair & eye color, height, etc.) of all the members of the militia? My brain can’t seem to decide how they all look. Thank you! ❤️

I can try! Weirdly enough, physical appearances aren’t always there for me. I don’t make the writing rules, fam. I JUST SEE THE SOULS.

Antoine

5′8, blue eyes, blond hair that curls to the point of making him look like a cherub (which his family rolled with until he was about seven) unless he keeps it short. And he absolutely keeps it short. He doesn’t want to be a cherub. :p

He had a beard for a while, but his nephew started yanking on it as a baby, resulting in him shaving it off forever. (Getting a cough drop stuck in it once was also a motivation.) He burns easily (why does he like hot places? I don’t know.), but he’s not the pasty-what-is-sun skin tone that Jimmy is, he’s just averagely pale. He’s got his fair share of scars; mostly knife wounds on his arms and torso, but he’s got a bullet scar on his right calf, a gash up on his hairline from a broken bottle, and a crooked nose courtesy of Batman’s Elbow of Justice. He’s also got a faded scar on his left cheek that he says is from a Cool Thing but is actually from him shaving off the beard. Like the others, he’s in unfairly good shape, for Batman-killing reasons. He’s a little more of a wiry person than, say, Jason or Frank, narrow shoulders and poky elbows, which landed him on Vent Infiltration before they got Riley, who’s smaller and better at it than he is.

Riley

5′5, black hair (usually a buzzcut so it’s not in his way), those really pretty brown eyes that are practically black. Riley is Japanese-American.

He’s 5′5 of solid muscle, partly because when literally everyone around you is taller, you have to climb. You have to, occasionally, punch them to make sure they respect you. He’s good at both of these things. (He’s also good at Rube Goldberg Devices. Go ahead. Take his stuff. See what happens.) The most notable thing about him is the charred stump of his tongue (a tale for which the world is not yet prepared), but he’s also got burn marks around his mouth from, well, losing it. That time of his life also left him with needle scars on his elbows, from being drugged to keep him nice and pliable.

He does not have a beard, partly because the scarring on his face has made that kind of painful. Y’know. Like Antoine, he’s more of a slender build, but he’s also an oddly flexible person; not full-on triple-jointed-horror-show, but that supposed ‘can’t reach it!’ spot in the middle of the back? He can reach that just fine.

Trent

Big. Near 7’, wide as fuck, generally built like Godzilla. Shaved head, beardless, brown eyes. Ambiguously tan in skin tone, but he does not turn into a tomato when exposed to the light. He just darkens further.

Interestingly, he is not a mass of scar tissue. He does have a gnarly one under his chin from where someone tried to slit his throat (that person is no longer with us), and a bullet scar on his upper right shoulder, but that’s it. What he DOES have is a half-sleeve of tattoos: butterflies of all colors, on his left forearm. When he flexes it, they move and it’s cool.

Mark

5’11, dark brown hair, dark brown eyes like Riley has. Mark is some sort of ambiguous brown in skin tone; I live near the US-Mexican border, so we have a high Mexican population, and there’s a lot of Indians (as in, from India, not Native Americans but they’re here too!) here as well, so think of a combo of those two races, if that makes sense? This guy does not burn. The sun doesn’t dare inconvenience him like that.

Mark’s been shot three times in his life, probably in part because he’s a dick (but I love him and it’s okay); once in the left thigh, once in the left shoulder, and once in the stomach. He has the scars to show for those. He also has the scars from self-surgery around the one on his stomach. His right middle finger is crooked from a childhood break, but that has yet to stop him from flipping people off with it. He does not have a beard, because his scowl is more effective without one, but sometimes he’ll embrace a little stubble.

He’s a slender sort, with weirdly long fingers. The rest of him is, like, normally-proportioned, but he has Slenderman fingers.

Frank

6’0, black hair (buzzcut), brown eyes, black skin. Frank absolutely has a dad-beard. He has to. He is the dad.

The car accident that cost him his son and the lower half of his right leg also left him with scarring on that side in general, but mostly on his arm. He usually has a Practical Prosthesis, because literally nobody cares, but he does have an Aesthetic One that looks like his original leg that he wears for Events...or to play jokes on the others. (The main squad is wise to this. Newbies, not so much.)

His job as a drone pilot means he’s usually out of the direct line of fire, and as a result he has avoided being shot, like, ever. (Though that’s partly me feeling bad because of the car accident.) Frank is built like the world’s best teddy bear; strong arms that are optimized for hugging and a wide-but-not-terrifyingly-wide chest to make the hug experience the best. (Does he have a ‘Free Hugs’ shirt? Yes. Does he wear it? Always. Will he blast your ass to Kingdom Come if you violate human rights? Oh yeah.)

Jimmy

5’9, pale as shit, ginger. Like every ginger I have ever met in my life, he so much as sticks one toe into the sun and he turns to ash. Gondor calls for aid, indeed.

Jimmy has a beard, but it’s...more of a sad, scraggly goatee that probably breaks every regulation known to man, BUT he may or may not have hacked the Pentagon in ‘07, so he’s allowed to keep it. He has green eyes that are nice and safe and magnified behind coke-bottle glasses (the ladies LOVE the glasses, this isn’t even a joke, they DO). He also has freckles. Alllllll the freckles.

He might spend most of his time surrounded by glowing screens, but he’s a muscley guy. (Again...kill Batman…) He also has unreasonably long arms that he uses to reach keyboards and drinks, and also to slap at people getting too close to his stuff. Don’t touch. He has. A system.

Like Frank, Jimmy’s main job means he’s avoided too many major injuries, BUT he’s got a bad burn scar on his chest from a monitor that somehow managed to catch fire.

#asks #the squad

30 notes · View notes

askthiscpblog · 5 years

Note

Can we have a story abt Slender recruiting someone

Ben leads the female Danny Phantom back to the mansion, himself floating the entire way making a straight line for it. They had to weave through the trees, but it wasn’t going to be difficult to follow otherwise. “So just letting you know, boss man isn’t keen on kids. You might be too old for him, but I say start praying to whoever you believe in now before meeting him.” Ben suggests, looking back at the girl.

“At this point, if I die, all I want is to be a ghost and haunt rich people,” she joked as she followed him.

“I mean, you’re already halfway there with your curse.” He retorted as the mansion came into view. It was a huge, old Victorian-style gothic mansion that looks as if it is going to fall apart by someone breathing on it. The shutters were closed, the glass stained and ruined but not broken. Everything about it screamed danger.

“Nice aesthetic, but it looks a little old to be housing so many people.” She rubbed the back of her neck. To say she was nervous was a bit of an understatement. She’s surprised she hadn’t started shaking.

“Only 4 people live here, the rest of us have our own place in the Domain,” he explains, looking back at her. “Welp, don’t die looking for him. The house is deadly. Good luck!” With that, he fades away.

Dread filled her as he faded away. She hoped at least she wouldn’t have to do this alone. ‘Not surprised he left, you should be used to having to do things without help. Useless coward.’ She glared at the obnoxious spirit, “Shut it, I don’t need that right now.” With that, she went to enter the mansion.

The spirits vanish at the start of the door to the mansion. The floorboards creaked under her feet, despite how light she might be, as she entered. The mansion in the place looked old, but everything on the inside was much nicer than the outside. It was…shocking in the sense of what one would expect.

“Much nicer on the inside,” she whispered to herself. The creaking of the floorboards was grinding on her every nerve. She didn’t like making so much noise and giving out her position. “Bright side, if I survive I can map out the creaky spots later.”

As she went through, she could feel as if the walls had eyes and were watching her. In her head, flashes of a library dance across it, in her vision blurring for a split second before coming back.

“Huh,” she muttered, “Guess that’s the room I need to find then.” As she searches for the library, she couldn’t help but get the urge to run away, far, far away. “I’m going to die here, aren’t I?”

As she went through the first door, she entered a hall. Continuing as she traveled, it only continued through other doors and halls. A dining room popped up a few times, then the kitchen, each becoming more decrepit and worn away every time she passed.

“It’s like something from an indie game.” Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t talk to herself out loud, but voicing her thoughts while playing horror games made her feel better sometimes. Each time she passed the same room again her anxiety increased a little. “At least this isn’t the worst way to go out. I think burning alive is supposed to be the most painful.”

Then she happened upon the experimentation rooms, where they sprawled out like buildings inside a building. She came into a control room, looking around as on monitors that something escaped and is hunting things in here.

“Must’ve been strong if it escaped from a place like this,” she looked over the monitors with curiosity and other bits of technology in the room. “Bet Sam would’ve liked this.. wonder how he’s doing.” She shakes her head, not wanting to reminisce on the past and continued her search.

Silent could then hear the movement above her, of something heavy in the air vents hanging around the place. It seemed to have stopped for a bit before making its way back to her.

Her fingers twitched as she quickened her pace. She wasn’t very good at combat, she preferred to get the drop on her enemies, attack from the shadows.

As she quickened, it seemed to have picked up the pace too. Going through another door, it dropped down ripping the door open itself. If Silent looked, it was a large, 10 foot tall mass of feathers with a beak coming out of it. It’s hunched over, claws on the end of arms as it rushed after her screaming.

She didn’t bother with looking back. The minute she heard the noise she could only think to do one thing: Sprint. Her fight or flight instincts took over and she turned invisible as she ran, not realizing it.

As she took off and her form faded, the creature running after her, it tried to catch up and took a swipe at her, slamming into the wall and breaking the wall. Shattering it. This continued on for a few more rooms, it losing her then catching up, rinse and repeat.

‘Frick, frick frICK,’ her thoughts panicked as she ran. ‘What do I do? I can’t run forever! Okay, three options: hide in a place it can’t get me, catch it, or die. Let’s hope I won’t die.’

Whatever she wanted to do, she would have to act fast. The creature, growling and snarling, was gaining on her again and clipped her leg with one of its claws. It knew where she was now and was close.

She bit back a silent yelp of pain, almost tripping when the monster hit her leg. She refused to die but she couldn’t fight something twice her size. ‘Cowards way out then,’ she decided, searching frantically for a space that only she can fit into.

As she crawled into it, it slammed into the wall reaching out for her as it cut up her leg again as she fled. Snarling and howling, it reached out for her as she crawled and it couldn’t catch her.

As the beast continued to swipe at her she thanked whatever high power there was that she was small, backing up farther into space in the case. Her heart pounded in her ears and her body shaking from the adrenaline.

It felt like forever until it finally lost interest and left her alone. It was another long, exaggerated period of time before it felt like it was safe to leave again. When she finally does, she crawls out into a different room. It looks like a library.

“Okay… what now?” She asked herself, looking around the room. She ran her fingers across the spines of several books with caution. There was a tingling feeling in the back of her mind, a memory hidden and long forgotten. Silent couldn’t explain it, but she had the sudden urge to climb the shelves and read as many of the books as she could.

'You sit and answer my questions.’ a voice rang in her head, neither male or female. Both of them spoke at the same time, overlapping with a faint echo inside her head.

“Hm?” She turned around to see a tall, faceless figure wearing a dark suit watching her. “Oh, BEN’s boss I’m guessing?” She asked, her voice coming out sounding like a mouse, moving to sit on the couch.

'Yes, you have that correct. Who are you?’ it asks, going to sit down on a chair across from her, its blank face looking right at her.

“Well, I go by Silent Scream now, I guess,” she shrugged, pulling her legs up onto the couch with her and hugging them to her chest. Not being able to read his face made her uneasy. “By the way, did you know there’s a bird monster running loose?”

'Seedeater is free to wander the house as he pleases. He might have realized that you were a child and wished to eat you to extend his life. While you’re here you don’t have to worry.’ Slender watched the child, seeing her ball up and be nervous to the situation around her. She is a little old for those he steals away but knows too much.

“That’s a new reason for someone to want to kill me,” she gave a nervous smile, remembering BEN’s words of how his Boss doesn’t like children. “Are you sure, because I’ve been told you wouldn’t be too very fond of me?”

'You are older than my choice morsels. On the cusp of being too aged. That is why I haven’t done anything with you, yet.’

“Oh, That’s nice,” she yawned into her hand, her form fading. Though she had eaten the leftovers earlier, she was still tired and had worked out most of the energy from running from Seedeater. And with the spirits disappearing at the door, there was no one to keep her awake for now. “So, who are you anyway?”

'I suggest you stay awake little one, else you wake up somewhere you wouldn’t like. Your kind knows me as the Slenderman, but Slender is fine. Tell me, I saw you were here because you got lost. You understand I can’t let you go with how much you’ve seen, despite it being from Ben’s doing.’

“Sorry, can’t help it sometimes. I was lost, and I don’t expect to get out of this place without dying first.”

'Aren’t you already dead with your condition?’

“I’m… not actually sure,” her brow furrowed in confusion. “I think I’m technically alive right now, but I can still die and after a while, I eventually come back.” She ran her hands through her hair, trying to recall each time she died before ending up in Slender’s domain. “And I can’t really remember what happens when I’m dead. I just wake up in another place and continue from there.”

'Do you age still?’

“I’m pretty sure I still do, maybe not during the time I’m dead, but if I ever stop aging I’ll let you know.”

He seemed perturbed at these answers, how casual the child was when facing death. But from the information she is giving, death seems to be more of a mild inconvenience to her than anything. Could be useful. 'Ben informed me you know who did this to you? Did they mark you?’

“Mark? As in claiming me?” She shook her head, “No, they wouldn’t do that as far as I know. They wanted to wipe me off the face of the Earth.”

'And I assume you have no idea on why.’

“Only a small one really. I believe he had me confused with someone else.”

'I see. If you could would you take measures to take revenge upon him?’

“I would prefer some answers, but sure.” She felt as if she were missing something very important, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what it was.

'Can you fight? Are you okay with killing others? And to what extent can you control your abilities?’ These questions seemed forced, rushed, to the point.

“I prefer assassin style and I need improvement in close-range combat, I have no problem with killing, and I’m not entirely sure.”

'Then you will be studying under Masky, one of the proxies that I have. He is the close-range fighter of the trio but will be trading off with Hoodie sometimes to keep your assassin technique perfected. Being a child you will be expected to complete studies, and are charged with keeping watch over Sally.’

A legitimate smile broke out on her face, pleased that she wouldn’t be harmed for now. “Thank you, sir- wait, what’s the catch?” She eyed him with suspicion. She had learned her lesson about not asking the consequences.

'You’re working for me until your premiant death. Marked, but that means you do not have to worry about the other trying to control you. You do as I say, and if there is any rebellion I will be merciless in my execution of judgment.’

“Alright, seems fair enough,” she joked, “It’s not like I have any better options.”

'It beats running around the planet forever and getting no rest. I would suggest staying away from Seed. He respects my decisions but is a sly one in trying to find loopholes. You may leave me now, the house will no longer be a maze to you. Find a room and do as you wish.’

“I wasn’t planning on going anywhere him after that.“ She got up and left the room, already deciding to sleep for as long as she could when she finds a room.

#Anonymous #silent scream #fanfiction #fandom #fanfic #creepypasta #creepy pasta #ask creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta fanfic #creepypasta fanfiction #slender #slenderman #slenderverse #cpoc #creepypasta ocs #creepypasta oc #oc fanfiction

7 notes · View notes

elcorhamletlive · 6 years

Link

fandom: MCU ship: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark tags: Crack/Fluff/Humor

(inspired by this post)

“How are we doing, J?”

“Everything in order, Sir.” The robotic voice of the A.I. echoed on the room. “The laser is ready for activation.”

Tony turned on his chair, eyeing the monitor. There it was, right on the wall, in all his star-spangled glory: Captain America, also known as Steve Grant Rogers, also known as Tony Stark’s biggest nemesis.

As a villain, Tony wasn’t a big believer in maintaining long-term rivalries with heroes. He had heard enough horror stories of villains who got so caught up in defeating their counterparts their plans ended up slacking, turning lazy. Having a designated hero to fight could seem simpler in the surface, but in the long term, it just got messy. And if there was one thing Iron Man, twice-named most influential villain of the world by People’s magazine (take that, Gotham city), definitely didn’t need, was for his plans to get messy because of heroes who couldn’t stop sticking their noses where they didn’t belong.

However.

The Captain had been a different case. They came across each other by complete coincidence – Tony was running a very common world domineering plot, definitely not one of his most inspired works, and the Captain showed up with a few people from his team, What’s-His-Name and What’s-His-Name-With-Wings. To Tony’s surprise, the Captain cracked the steps of his plan easily, managing to surprise him when he marched into Tony’s lair, shield in hand, strong posture and confident voice as he turned his azure eyes towards Tony and proclaimed: Nowhere to run, Iron Man.

It had been rivalry at first sight.

Tony tried to fight it, but as time went by, it was impossible to ignore. Captain America was the embodiment of everything Tony disliked – he was a model hero, fighting for freedom, justice, and protecting and helping the weaker. He fought against Tony’s evil plans so valiantly: He’d charge into battle majestically, stronger and braver than any hero Tony had ever seen, and Tony would feel a rush inside his chest, presumably of joy of finally finding a worthwhile opponent. Other costumed clowns had attempted to stop Tony before, of course, but none of them had ever succeeded, and none of them were able to catch Tony’s intere- Ahem, hatred, the way the Captain did.

Tony rested his chin on his hands, watching as the Captain struggled on the table. It had taken a while to get him there. He had fought Tony’s bots admirably. It was always such an incredible display of a mix of grace and power, the way the man moved, effortlessly defeating enemies Tony knew an army would have a hard time dealing with.

Now, though, he was trapped, held down by separate gauntlets of Tony’s suits. Still, he didn’t give up, constantly struggling. Always so stubborn. Tony took a sharp breath, taking in the Captain’s endless determination. God, he was so…

“Sir?” Jarvis’ voice interrupted his thoughts. “Perhaps you should proceed with the plan?”

Oh. Oh yeah. The plan. Tony pushed a button on his panels, activating the laser beam. It was programmed to keep moving through the room, starting at the wall on the far end opposite to where the Captain was trapped, until it reached him. The energy levels were lethal – not even a super soldier would be able to survive it.

“Five minutes now, Cap,” Tony said on the mic. It had been a fairly clichéd plan, he had to admit – the good old oh no, there’s a bomb in the building – oops, not really, and now you’re trapped in my lab play. But Tony preferred to think of it as a classic.

The Captain frowned, scrunching his nose. It was cute, in a very hateful way. Tony adjusted his HD resolution of the video feed to see better.

He was pleased by the fact that his choice of an underground isolated bunker had, apparently, been processed by the Who-Cares-If-It-Even-Has-A-Name organization the Captain worked for as a stealth mission. That meant the Captain was wearing his stealth suit, the dark-blue uniform that fitted his body perfectly. That was just according to Tony’s plan, because the suit made the Captain look… Very, uh, very…

Vulnerable to Tony’s evil weapons. Yeah, that was it.

“Iron Man.” The Captain looked around, immediately finding the main camera. Tony bit his lower lip. So fucking smart. The bastard. “It doesn’t have to be this way.”

“Oh, come on, Cap, you’ve got better lines than this.” Tony grinned, making sure the monitor camera was catching his best angle. He had spent a long time trimming his goatee in the morning and picking out a lovely red tie that he knew complimented his skin tone.

What? Looking good for one’s nemesis was basic courtesy.

For a moment, the Captain didn’t say anything. His expression was a bit strange, but his body kept struggling (Jesus, that suit was fitted. Whoever designed the uniforms at Don’t -Give-a-Fuck-About-The-Place was a pervert).

“I just don’t understand why you keep doing this,” The Captain said. His voice was strangely low, as if he was thinking aloud.

Tony felt confused. The laser had moved a few inches by now, and, while no self-respecting hero would ever cave into full terror, Tony expected a more enthusiastic response. A rivalry was a two-way street, and, in order to allow it to bloom, Tony needed the Captain’s feedback to his plans. Some amount of fear or tension was to be expected, while facing a respectable villain plot. However, for someone who would die in less than five minutes if they didn’t find a way to get untied, the Captain seemed almost… Calm.

Tony frowned. Could the Captain be… Bored? The thought made Tony’s stomach clench. Sure, it wasn’t the most original plan in the book, but Tony had thought the execution would be enough to provide a good challenge. Had he misread it? Maybe the Captain wasn’t very intrigued by the classic villain aesthetic. Suddenly, Tony wished he had shaved his goatee.

“I’m a villain, that’s what I do, buddy,” Tony blurted, and, God, that was such terrible banter. What was he doing? At this rate, the Captain wouldn’t want to deal with his schemes in the future anymore. God, he’d probably send the Wings guy to handle Tony – or, worse, he’d move on to attempt to defeat all those other classless, tacky villains who kept fighting for his attention, like that ridiculous Batroc or the creeper with the red face. None of them were good enough to provide the Captain with a decent challenge, they’d just hold him back.

The Captain’s expression was impossible to read. “You know, Iron Man, with a mind like yours, you could actually do some good.”

The compliment sent a burst of relief over Tony’s chest. His face was also strangely warm, presumably because of a healthy amount of purely professional pride. “Well, Cap, I think we both know that-“

“What is this table made of?”

Tony raised his eyebrows. The Captain had never seemed curious about his design choices before.

“The trap table is perfectly covered by the softest synthetic material, originated from pure Peruvian cotton,” Jarvis chimed in.

Tony wished he hadn’t said anything. Jarvis had argued against the changes to the table, saying it would be a waste of time resources, but that was a total overreaction, Tony thought. Sure, he had spent some money on it – yeah, maybe a few thousand more than it was strictly necessary, but, well, it wasn’t like he had to save on infrastructure. Besides, the other table had been so… Cold and impersonal. This time, the Captain was going to be held down for a while. There was no point in making it uncomfortable. Tony wasn’t a monster.

“It’s really soft,” the Captain whispered. “Softer than last time.”

“Uh,” Tony said. “Thanks,” he blurted, for some reason, and the Captain’s mouth curved in a smile. Tony felt a weird rush on his chest, and looked away, checking the timer. “Three minutes now, buddy.”

To his complete surprise, the Captain sighed. “Is this really necessary?”

Tony blinked. “What?”

“This.” the Captain apparently tried to move his arms to gesture around, but the armor secured him further. “I’m trapped. Can’t you just shoot me?”

Tony’s eyes widened. “I. Uh, that’s…” He said, his head spinning. What was the Captain talking about? And why wasn’t he focusing on disabling the laser bean?

“Uh,” Tony cleared out his throat, attempting to gather his thoughts. “Not that I wouldn’t love to melt you immediately, Spangles, but unfortunately, there’s not enough energy to make the laser move faster.”

“Actually, sir, there is,” Jarvis interjected. “We could easily revert the power used in other less necessary functions.”

“What?” Tony asked, feeling betrayed. “Less necessary functions? What less necessary functions?”

Tony had the impression that, if Jarvis could grit his teeth, he would have. “Superficial features, sir.”

“Such as?”

“The ambient music, the water fountain on the background, and the artistic lightning system set up to hit Captain Rogers’ hair.”

Oh. Tony blinked slowly. “Those… Those are aesthetic choices. They… They’re important.”

On the screen, the Captain’s mouth curled again. It was really distracting.

“In fact, sir, they aren’t,” Jarvis said, sound strangely tired. “Removing them would allow us to use their power to force the laser bean to move more efficiently, killing Captain Rogers instantly.”

“Wow, wow, wait a minute,” Tony said. “There’s no need to do that. I mean,” He scrambled his brain for something say. “It’s… It’s more fun to watch him going down slowly.”

Giving Jarvis the ability to sigh was a mistake. “Sir, the plan is bound to fail.”

“What? No, it isn’t. He’s trapped.”

“No, he isn’t,” Jarvis insisted. “If he manages to wriggle his body slightly to the left, he will be within the magnetic reach of his shield, allowing him to summon it and get rid of the gauntlets restraining him.”

“Jarvis!” Tony exclaimed. “You’re – how can you…”

“I think what Jarvis means,” the Captain interjected. ”Is that you’re not really trying to kill me. If you were, you’d have already done it.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Jarvis traitorously replied. “Sir, not only could you easily kill Captain Rogers now, but you could have killed him at least a hundred and eight times during the past month.” As Tony gaped in indignation, he added: “I’m afraid this situation can’t keep going any longer. It is against the principles of my programming to keep designing deliberately inefficient plants, sir.”

“Deliberately– what are you implying– He is my mortal enemy, of course I’m trying to kill him–“

“Well,” the Captain interrupted, sounding strangely casual. “I’m not trying to kill you,” His blue eyes looked away from the camera, fixating in the ceiling, while a slight smile formed on his lips. “Haven’t even been really trying to arrest you, lately.”

Tony stared at the monitor in complete shock. “What? No way,” He babbled. “You – you live for arresting bad guys.”

“Yeah,” the Captain nodded. “But you’re not really a bad guy, are you? I mean,” – he turned back to the camera, with an almost amused expression – “you don’t target anyone except me. And none of your plans ever hurt any civilians.”

Tony felt his face warming. “What the hell are you talking about? You don’t see me as threat, Rogers?”

“To the world? No. Not at all.”

“Then why the hell are you still here?”

To Tony’s surprise, a slight flush spread over the Captain’s cheeks. It… Wasn’t a bad look on him.

“To be honest, fighting your evil plans is the most fun I’ve ever had in this century. I… I’m not very good at relaxing.” He said, a little sheepish. “But decrypting your codes, fighting your bots, figuring out your schemes… Makes me really happy.”

Oh. Oh.

Tony’s hand touched his chest. Was he… Was that really what seemed to be happening?

“Your hero antics make me happy too,” He managed to say, his eyes finding the Captain’s through the monitor. “I… I like your catchphrases.”

“I like your monologues,” The Captain replied, with a gorgeous smile on his lips.

“I like your inspiring speeches,” Tony blurted. He felt the Captain’s eyes staring deeply into his through the screen, his heart fluttering on his chest under that deep blue gaze…

“Thirty seconds for the laser to reach Captain Rogers’ body, sir.”

“Oh, shit,” Tony said, snapping back to reality abruptly, reaching forward to turn off the gauntlets, which loosened their grip on the Captain’s limbs, letting him go. “Sorry, Cap.”

“Call me Steve,” he said, that lovely flush on his cheeks deepening slightly. “I’d, uh. I’d really like that.”

“Steve,” Tony echoed, a bit ridiculously, true, but the name sounded wonderful leaving his mouth. “You, uh. You can call me Tony, too. If you want to.”

Steve stood up, facing the camera. He pressed his lips together, seeming a little giddy, when noise started coming from his comm device. Tony immediately regretted not breaking it. “Well. I guess I should be going now,” he said, picking up his shield from the floor.

“Oh.” Tony said, a little disappointed. “Okay. I guess I… Will see you on my next evil plan?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathed. “Though, uh…” He bit his lower plush lip, making Tony forget the basic fundaments of human language. “Maybe your next evil plan could be, hm, this Friday? There’s a restaurant a couple blocks from Shield that’s very, uh… vulnerable.”

“Sounds great. Yeah,” Tony blurted, and Steve’s face brightened wonderfully. “I could start putting my evil schemes in motion at around… Seven?”

“Seven, seven works,” Steve nodded, a bit breathless.

Tony grinned wildly. “This time, Captain,” He said, exaggerating his voice in a cartoonish tone. “You won’t be able to get away from me.”

He was expecting Steve to laugh, but as he turned, his smile was more sly than anything. “I’m counting on it.”

#stony #stevetony #superhusbands #stony fic #stevetony fic #my fics

154 notes · View notes