#M NOT PREPARED FOR THE HARDEST ACHIEVEMENT)

[visterical]

fugo who I was not trying to draw but do love. I was trying to draw some risotto headcanons (or general headcanons that unfortunately I do not think the fandom would enjoy)

[strwyofthesun]

a workplace escapade

pairing: id!leon kennedy x agent!(f)reader

synopsis: you work at the DSO and your days there have become increasingly mundane till you are assigned to a mission with Leon under the president's orders. and ever since then, tension grows between the two of you in your workplace.

word count: 2.4k

cont: smut, p in v, unprotected sex, masturbation, oral (m receiving), slight degrading, overstimulation, breeding (?)

a/n: it's like 5 am here and i have not had a blink of sleep. also, is it normal to feel hella embrassed when writing smut? can't take myself seriously i sweaaar. stream sntv too, i was inspired by i can see you to write this cuz shits jus so good.

reblogs, comments, reqs are highly appreciated! <3

The days in the headquarters of the Divisions of Security Operations have been getting more and more tiresome the longer you’ve been working. When you were newly employed, the job seemed exciting at first. Working alongside the best of the best agents from all across different branches of the US federal government, it was nice to have more company and see new faces. Over time though, the missions increased in difficulty and you’ve seen friends and colleagues come and go. You’ve tried your hardest not to become numb to everything but hid your emotions of anger and frustrations. On days where you weren’t on the front lines fighting, you were in stuffy, cold rooms reporting on what happened during your missions and relaying the information you have found. Your work-life balance was basically non-existent at this point, spending most of your time in and out the headquarters and if you’re lucky, you’d get to go home and relax for a while until you are called again for the next assignment.

Nothing gave you any thrill or excitement anymore. Everything had become a routine to you, until, under the president’s orders, you and agent Leon S. Kennedy are paired together for a mission. You left your comfort of your home immediately as soon as you were called and headed to the white house to meet the president and Leon.

Leon wasn’t exactly a new name or face to you. You’ve heard about his deeds and he does live up to the name he has made for himself. There has been a couple of instances where the two of you would bump into each other in hallways, but other than catching each other’s glances, there wasn’t anything more to say really. Though, you had to admit, other than being one of the president’s bets, he had looks that could kill as well. It’s hard to miss him whenever he’s around. His striking blue eyes, tall figure, long blonde hair, and that charming smile of his. If only your job had room for having more of a life, you’d have probably fooled around with Leon by now. But sadly, that isn’t the case.

You shortly arrived at the foot of the president’s office and you could hear him talking to who you assumed was Leon. Two of the president’s bodyguards opened the door for you and you let yourself in.

“Ah, speak of the devil, she’s here.” The president said while smiling at you. “I’m sure you are acquainted with one another, yes?” He asked while looking at the two of us.

“Yes, Mr. President but it’s our first time working together.” You responded.

“Oh? Is that so? I trust that my best agents will be fine.”

You got flustered at the president’s comment and hear Leon chuckle from the side, “We’re flattered sir.”

The president soon briefed the both of you on what needs to be done and the goals you must achieve. You and Leon nodded in agreement and the president patted the both of you on the shoulder with a look of pride painted on his face. “Make me proud my agents.”

The mission went according to plan and was successful. The following day, the both of you return to HQ and prepare to report what happened. You sported a white long sleeve button-up that has been rolled up and a black skirt that hugged your figure nicely. It wasn’t all the time you wore an outfit like that whenever you reported back, so not only were people congratulating you for the successful mission but at the same time, complimenting you on your outfit. You arrived rather early in the meeting room as it was only you and a couple associates in the room. Later, heads started turning once Leon stepped into the room. He was wearing a blue suit with a white button up underneath, looking jaw-dropping to say the least. The men and women in the room stood up to shake hands with him as you patiently waited for your turn. You stood up and walked up to him while he checked you out.

“Nice outfit. Suits you.” He said smiling at you.

You returned the smile and said, “I can say the same to you.”

The two of you head to the front and start recounting the events that have occurred. Whilst you were talking, you noticed Leon from the corner of your eye, looking at you. But it wasn’t just a simple look, you could see his eyes shine as he drowned in the sight of you. It was as though he was undressing you with his stare. One of the associates asked Leon a question but he didn’t respond due to him still having his gaze fixated on you. You turn to look at him directly and uttered a small “Hey” to catch his attention. He snapped out of his trance and apologized. Leon answered the question and for the rest of the meeting he really couldn’t keep his eyes of you.

Once the meeting was finished, you came up to him and jokingly asked, “Did I have something in my teeth? Why were you staring?”

“Oh, was I? I didn’t realize… I'm sorry." He apologized.

“No need to apologize. It’s okay Leon.” You reassured him.

He then gestured for the door and held it open for you. You thanked him and went parted ways for the day. When you weren't on a mission, you mostly spent your time on your desk from morning till night while occasionally running into Leon if he wasn't on a mission as well. You’d give each other an awkward smile and go about your business. This went on for about a week and over time, Leon was suddenly all you could think about every time you’re at work. Hopping that you’d bump into him somehow or see him around the halls. The thought of catching him staring at you excited you. It felt like there was this electrifying tension between the two of you.

You were done working together for a mission, but something told you that this wasn’t just the end for the both of you. Impure thoughts filled your head, distracting you from your job. You could tell that it wasn’t just you, and that’s what thrilled you the most. Knowing that you both want each other, yet held back. It made you long for him even more. The times you and Leon would talk to each other for work purposes, the two of you kept your composure and kept it professional when deep down you both needed the fulfill the urge to be on each other's bodies.

It was getting late at night already and you yawned from the exhaustion of a long day’s work. You rummage through your paper looking for a specific document when you remembered that you had left it in a meeting room. You sighed and sluggishly make your way to the meeting room, cussing yourself out for forgetting and now you’re working overtime. As you approach the door, you hear noises coming from the room. You thought it was odd that someone was still in there since the building was almost empty at that hour. Leaning into the door, you peaked through the glass and see Leon, touching himself. He moaned your name under his breath along with profanities. This took you by surprise. You leaned even closer on the door and ended up accidentally pushing it, making Leon jolt knowing that he’s been caught.

He quickly zips up his pants and walks up to door to see who was looking, when he was then met face to face with you.

“I-I left something inside the room…” You stuttered.

Leon just looked at you panting slightly, forehead glistening with sweat and the buttons of his shirt open just enough to see his bare chest. You excused yourself and went in the room and grabbing the document you left when all of the sudden, Leon pinned you to the wall, barely leaving any space between the two of you.

“Are you really just going to leave me here?” Leon asked .

“You seemed… busy.”

Leon let out a chuckle and leaned in close to your ear, “I know you heard me…” His breath making contact on your skin made you shudder.

“Maybe I can help you out..." You whispered back dropping the document to the floor and placing your hand on his chest, slowly moving down, palming his hard dick through his pants. Leon buried his face into your neck trying to stifle his moans. You undo his button, unzip his pants, and pull it down along with his boxers.

You bend down to kneel infront of Leon and level with his cock. You run your thumb over his tip making Leon's breath hitch. You let your tongue slide along his shaft tracing the veins on it. Slowly, you take in his dick in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down while your hand stroked the lower shaft. You licked his tip and left kisses on it, teasing Leon. You speed up the pace leaving Leon breathless, throwing his head back.

"Faster..." Leon panted.

"I can't hear you, Leon. Speak up."

"Faster... please..." Leon says louder this time. you granted his request and start pumping him faster. His mouth is agape as he starts heaving heavily. It turned you on knowing that you could make the Leon Kennedy like this. The thoughts of you and him together were coming to life, and this was barely scratching the surface of all the things you've imagined.

"Fuck, I'm gonna... cum..." he said trying to desperately get out the words from his mouth. You moved even more swiftly this time until Leon came onto your hand and before he could even ride it out, you started stroking his still hard and now sensitive dick.

"Wha- what the fuck are y-you doing?" He hissed.

You don't reply. You just look at him in his eyes while you pick up the pace catching Leon off guard.

Leon whined, "Please..."

"Please what?" you responded.

"S-Stop..." He managed to say.

"And why would I do that? You seem to be enjoying it." you smirk as you stroked his dick faster and faster.

Leon started to tremble a bit and his cock twitched in your hand. He groaned at how you were pumping his overstimulated cock, continuously moaning, filling up the room with his whines and groans. He was begging to you to stop but you didn't. You didn't stop until he came again. And when he did, you finally let him ride his climax down.

Once he settled down, he looked at you menacingly and you thought to yourself, if eyes could kill, you'd definitely be dead by now.

"Stand up. You think I'd let that shit slide?" he said as he heaved. You stood up as Leon grabbed you and turned you around, your back facing his. He pulled you closer, one arm wrapped around your torso while the other snaked its way down to your core. His hand unbuttoned your shirt, slid its way into your bra, and fondled with your boobs, leaving a moan escape your mouth. His other hand moved in tight circles around your clit, doubling the pleasure you were feeling at that moment. Leon pulled your skirt up and pulled your soaked panties down. He slipped his dick inbetween your thighs just right at the surface of your cunt. He thrusted back and forth making sure his dick isn't in you on purpose. He was teasing you and you were starting to become needy.

"Leon... put it in me..." you tried pleading with him.

"Beg for it." He responded, his lips curling into a smirk as he continued moving his dick through the folds of your slick cunt. "Please Leon... I need you in me." Hearing you beg for him, he gave into it and rammed his dick in your cunt leaving you and him gasping at the sudden movement.

"Leon what the fuck?!" you screamed. "I gave you what you wanted didn't I? Ungrateful bitch..." Although Leon was cussing you out, you didn't feel any sort of hatred or resentment towards him. In fact, it turned you on even more and Leon was catching up to it.

"You like it when I call you a bitch huh?" he asked as his hand moved from your boobs to your jaw, squeezing it.

He moved closer to your ear and whispered, "Or would you prefer if I called you a slut instead? Would you like that?" You nod your head in response.

"My, my, what a dirty little slut you are... I can't wait to fuck you like one." He said as he lets go of his grip on your jaw.

"I'll be your slut and yours only... Use me however you like. I'm at your disposal Leon." You said breathelessly.

"Oh I'll never dispose you. I'll make sure I fill you up with my cum like the fucking slut you are. So shut the fuck up and take it." Leon whispered as he started pounding hard into you leaving you in shambles. Whatever mess you left Leon in a while ago, you were now twice the mess he was.

Leon was fucking you in every spot you thought nobody could even fucking reach. He placed his hands on your hips and gripped it tightly as he pounded his cock deep into you. You were panting, breathing heavy, moaning, whining, all of the above.

"Good girl... You really are taking it like a slut. So fucking good for me."

Your walls tighten around Leon's cock, milking him off everything he had in him. You scream, "Le-Leon! F-Fuck I'm gonna cum!"

"That's right cum for me, princess." You came screaming his name but he didn't stop. "Leon! S-Stop please..." You begged.

"Why would I stop? I haven't even came yet." He said with a smirk plastered on his face. All your pleading went in his ear and out the other. He continued ramming into you while your eyes welled up with tears from the feelings of pleasure derived from pain. As much as it hurt, you didn't want it to stop either. Leon quickened his thrusts and grunted as he came, feeling his hot cum fill you.

"Take all that in." he moaned into your ear. As he was filling you with his seed, tears streamed down your face from the overstimulation. Leon pulled out and made you face him.

"Don't cry princess, isn't this what you wanted?" Leon said as he kissed the tears off your face. Trails of kisses from your cheeks led to your lips and the both of you share a long and passionate kiss before pulling away and fixing each other's clothes.

Maybe overtime wasn't so bad after all.

[bluecookies02]

Teacher!Zhongli x Reader

/TRADING FAVORS/

cw: nsfw/mdni , power imbalance , mild dubcon , creampie , oral(m!receiving) , "Sir" and "Pretty Girl" are used a few times

word count: 4,5k

taglist for the teacher x student series: @kithewanderingme @rvisn @celestarvs @arraxthatsonjah @riarelyn @scaramoochie2657 @ll34hh @pussymode / idk why the rest wouldn't tag but i'll try in the comment section

comment under this post to be added

Everyone knows that Mr.Zhongli takes on offers from his students. If you're really desperate for your grade(example being the end of the semester) he'll make a deal that satisfies the both of you.

And that's perfectly fine, he's respectful, patient and never pushy. He won't ever be the one suggesting it, and you can always change your mind, maybe that's why nobody fired him yet.

He believes in exchanging favors, he reckons that it's the only way you make connections throughout your life. He offers extra tutoring if you actually want to prepare for his test but a man has needs and he doesn't mind taking advantage of lazy students that would be happy to find a way around studying.

So there you were, fidgeting around in his office, waiting for him to finish sorting some papers. Your friends reassured you countless times, just be straightforward and truthful and there won't be any problems.

You were desperate to keep your scholarship, and even with your hardest efforts, you couldn't seem to get an A in his class. Your dusted cheeks were a cue to him, and he already knew why you were there, sitting all pretty across his desk with your thighs pressed together, buttons on your shirt loose and your eyes peering at him, all doe and innocent.

"Ah, I see..." he mumbles, scanning over your scores on his computer.

"A high achiever If I may notice" he comments, a gentle smile directed at you. You nod, not really having the courage to say anything.

"No need to be shy, I understand...Scholarships are hard to keep, even getting one is a hassle" he tries to relax you, placing his glasses on the table. You clear your throat, urging yourself to speak up.

"Yes, uhm...I currently have 81%...I need at least 91 to keep it so that it totals correctly with my other classes...I was wondering if there was....anything that I'm able to do since all of the exams are over..." you try to smile but the nervousness just makes it awkward so you decide to look away.

"Mhmm...of course, now I don't usually have students ask for A's, I'd say that those would take a bit more effort this late into the semester...don't you think?" he muses, getting up from his chair.

Your heart is pounding against your ribcage, his large form coming dangerously close. You think about bailing and never showing your face again, but the damage has been done, your image is already compromised just from you sitting right here at this exact moment.

"Yeah...that would be alright" you nod, meeting his eyes. Zhongli's mind was racing, and keeping himself calm took great effort. You're delicious, soft and timid yet right here in front of him, something he never would suspect after teaching you this whole year. Usually, he can tell, or at least speculate about who'll be crawling to him at the end of the year. You? Never in a million years.

It was very obvious that you weren't used to dressing like that, and judging by the way you tried to seamlessly cover yourself let him know that you were quite uncomfortable.

"Do you maybe want to come around some other time?" he mused, taking your hand in his, inspecting it as your fingers shook from embarrassment.

"It's urgent, the documentation needs to be delivered by the end of the week" you mutter, swallowing a lump in your throat. He nods, moving away so that he could lock the door.

"I see that you're uneasy, how about this...." he thinks for a little sitting back in his chair.

"You may do whatever you want, anything you have in mind and I'll agree, and if I'm satisfied I'll up your grade....don't worry, I'm not greedy" Truth to be told, he sometimes is, but scaring you off is the last thing he wants to do, after all, you made him feel some kind of tension he hadn't felt for a long time. You're not aware of it, but you could just breathe against his lips and he would round your grade to a 100 in a heartbeat. Maybe he's sadistic, he thinks...was it because you were so hesitant compared to everyone else? Because you looked inexperienced and he wanted nothing less than to defile every surface of your being? He scolds himself for thinking about seeing you again after this. Maybe when all is said and done, he can suggest something else...no...he shouldn't, he already crossed enough lines and he can't put his job at risk any further. He should enjoy it now that the opportunity is laid out right in front of him.

Truthfully, it's not the job he cares about, would he call himself too nervous to be bold with you?

You caught his eye before, yet he never gave it much thought, but there was always a need clawing at him beneath the surface. He remembers the way your eyes would follow him around the classroom, drinking every word that left his mouth as your pen worked overtime to catch up with his sentences.

He got lost in thought, and as he snapped back to present, he saw you getting up from your chair. On shaky legs you made move for the door, double-checking if it was locked. With a slow, self-encouraging breath, you turned back to him.

Excitement bubbles in his chest, his cock stiffening as you approach him with unsure steps. You stood out because you were timid, so curse him for being the stereotypical pervert that gets off on that.

You are so close to him and he can feel your shaky breath on his face. Your fingers move to his shirt, steadying yourself while you tower above him, pressing your soft lips against his.

If you thought your heart was going to jump out of your chest before, goodness knows how fast it's thumping now. You feel lightheaded, but being pulled in his lap brings some sense of relief for a split second. His lips part, deepening the kiss.

You're overthinking still, what if your lips are too dry, what if your kisses are too messy, what if someone catches you...The last one is being pushed as far back to your mind as possible in order to keep you sane.

None of it seems to matter once his rough tongue scrapes against yours, causing your mouth to open wide to let him reach whatever he wants to taste. Low grunts get absorbed, echoing in your throat. Despite your pride, you feel yourself getting more and more aroused, calloused hands reaching to the back of your neck and holding you in place.

You feel the outline of his cock against your panties, twitching up whenever you suckle on his tongue, swallowing the spit pooling in your mouth. His other hand is secured tight around your waist, gently guiding your hips in rhythm with his small, held-back thrusts.

Boldly, you unbutton his shirt, struggling a bit since your eyes have been shut tight ever since you started kissing, peaking ever so often to check if he's enjoying himself. Sneaking your hands over his now exposed chest, you feel up the defined, warm figure under your fingertips. He's taking sharp breaths whenever you tickle over any particularly sensitive spot on his lower belly, his moans getting a tad louder.

The hand on your neck disappears, only for you to feel it trail down to your hips, finding purchase on them from each side. Zhongli is getting a bit impatient, his pants now uncomfortably tight and he hopes you'll do something soon, but at the same time he'd like to keep being engulfed by the warmth of your lewd mouth, sinful whines and pleas rolling off your wet tongue each time he bucks his hips into you.

Finally, he lets you go, watching as you gulp for air, eyes glossy and half-lidded. You hesitate to grab at his trousers, feeling up the large bulge that immediately throbs against your palm. His calloused hand rests atop of yours, guiding you to press harder.  You adjust to sit on one of his thighs, your legs cramping from your previous position. Placing your hand back on him, you squeeze gently, eying the way he bites the inside of his cheek.

If you exclude the fact that he's your teacher, you'd probably rate this as one of the hottest affairs you ever had. Or maybe it was especially because he's your teacher...which you deep down know is the truth. You give him a knowing look, briefly tugging at the belt he was wearing.

He unbuckles it for you, unhooking the button underneath as well. He feels the warmth of your pussy on his thigh, imagining how it looks under the thin panties you're wearing. He'd guess that they're thin by how soaked they are, enough so that he can feel the wet spot on his pants.

His curious hands never left you, hiking up your skirt and stealing glances of your plum thighs, along with a few firm glides of his fingertips between your legs, never touching but always getting agonizingly close to where you began to crave him most.

He traces the outline of your panties, teasingly just tugging at the edges before resting them on top of the armrests, deciding that he has guided you enough.

"I know that all classes are long over, but I wouldn't mind if we up the pace of this, a man can only hold out so long" he suggests, flicking his eyes to his hard-on, like he wants to admit how uncharacteristically impatient he's getting, and the relief of having his belt undone didn't satiate him enough.

Truth be told, he wanted to fuck you a moment ago, right there in his lap, but he likes teasing himself, seeing for how long he can keep his cool before manhandling you around and taking what he wants. It wouldn't be the first time he surrendered to his needs, bending students over the desk and holding them down until he's all empty and milked dry, giving a few clicks on his computer after and leaving the room, letting them stay there, ruined,  messy and all alone in his own office.

You heard those rumors too, and at this point, you'd rather take that over having any kind of control right now. You want to be told what to do, that's just how you always were... But if you look at this like just one more order, maybe differently formulated...but it's an order nonetheless. A request to be bold, tempting and pleasing all the same, in the ways you best knew.

Getting down on your knees, you tug at his boxers, regaining his attention. He helps you by raising his hips, letting his underwear and pants pool at his ankles.

Dear lord, the way he's sitting forces you to squeeze your legs together. He's looking down at you, praying on every exposed skin of your cleavage, his legs spread out confidently, muscular thighs flexing as cold breeze tickles the tip of his leaking cock.

Before you move to grasp it in your hands, you unbuttoned your shirt, letting it fall off your shoulders. Your nipples were already prominent against your thin shirt, but now that he sees everything, he has to grip on that armrest a bit tighter.

He can already see them covered in his seed, dripping between them and down your stomach, some landing on your collarbones as well. He wouldn't want to cum down your throat...you're too precious for that...but having your skin stained in his release seems much more appealing. By what logic he can't explain, but he's already squirming in his seat.

You search your brain for more things you could do before touching him, biting your bottom lip in thought.

"Mr. Zhongli, would you mind getting up?" you ask, resting your hand in your lap as he shuffles around, kicking his trousers off fully before sitting up from his chair.

With big doe eyes, you thank him, looking up at him. He's shameless, able to be as naked as the day he was born in such a public space. His hand comes down to grip at his cock, giving it a few slow tugs toward your lip, the comes trails below your chin, inching you closer, loosening your jaw with his fingers.

"Ohh...that's a precious sight indeed, what else are you able to show me?" he asks, tenderly rubbing his length across your cheek. You hum, letting him guide your head before you finally stick out your tongue, curiosity getting the better of you. You were shamefully eager to have a taste, placing the purpled head inside your warm mouth, suckling and swallowing around him, just to daringly look up at him.

His breath was ragged, words cut short when you slowly slid him down your throat. Your hands were balled into fists, nails imprinting moon-like crests into your palm. You struggled not to gag, fighting back tears while you bobbed your head.

"Shhh...look" he huffed, grabbing your hair, guiding you off of him. He held himself at the base, a large hand covering half of his dick. As you relaxed your mouth, he slowly thrusted inside, your lips bumping softly against his fist as he pumped himself in sync.

Your tongue was lolled out, your mouth filling up with spit, coating his dick thoroughly as strings of sticky saliva lubed up his fist. He's being considerate, and for some hell sent reason it makes you respect him and hate him at the same time.

The pretty sounds of your glucking throat leave him in a daze, ragged moans rushing past his lips. Your cheeks are so full, and he makes sure to prod the inside of them with his cock ever so often.

"Breathe..." he whispers, pulling out so that only the tip of his pulsing length is resting on your tongue. You do exactly that, closing your mouth around him to relieve the ache in your jaw.

He wipes his hand against your cheek before joining it to the one already tangled in your hair. You feel the eagerness in his touch, bracing yourself, you grab onto his thighs.

Pushing your head towards him, he slips to the back of your throat, keeping you there for a brief moment until you get used to him, swallowing your gags.

"There you go, such a pretty girl, look up..." he hums, rutting his hips. You fight the urge to cough, eyes teary as he slams into your throat, his navel pressing against your nose with every thrust. He tries to keep looking at you, yet he can't help but throw his head back, closing his eyes as he chases his pleasure. He zeroes in on the rhythm of his balls slapping against your chin, your weak arms pushing at him to no avail. He needs you to hold on a little longer though.

He stares at his ceiling briefly, his own moans spurring him on as well. He should feel guilty, shouldn't he? He ponders over that for a moment before he feels the knot in his lower stomach tightening, heat coiling through his muscles. Who cares if this makes him a terrible, gruesome man, if it was wrong it wouldn't make his dick so hard.

He looks back down to see you digging your nails into his thighs, and your eyes are filled with fear. You're starting to feel dizzy, vision blurring. You're trying to pull off but his hand keeps a stern grip on your head for a few long thrusts before he pulls out, fisting his cock. Deep grunts and groans buzz inside your head until he pulls your head a few inches back, aiming his release toward your naked breasts.

You watch hypnotized as he fucks into his fist, his strokes now short and fast-paced as his knees buckle.

"Hah....fuck..." and it dawns on you that you never heard this man curse, just as he paints your chest white in his seed. It suddenly reminds you who you're really doing this with.

He holds onto your head a bit tighter, trying to ground himself briefly. His eyes are many shades darker than earlier and you've been treated nicely long enough. It's not that you mind, and you don't know when but this stopped feeling like an exchange of favors, and more like a forbidden hookup. The shift in mood was evident, and even Zhongli doesn't seem too keen to keep his composure.

His cock is still stiff, jerking ever so often as your breath ghosts over his sensitive head.

He wipes his hand against his thigh, offering the other to you. Your calves ache from the position and he holds you up for a moment before pushing you back, hoisting you onto the table. You can still practically feel him in your throat, especially when he wraps his fingers around your neck, his hungry lips bruising yours.

His hand trails under your skirt, feeling the soaked fabric of your panties. Your face is flushed...you're not sure if he can feel the needy throbs of your clit against his fingertips, but he can for sure feel and hear the gasps coming from you, considering he's the one swallowing each and every one down.

He twirls the fabric in his hand, balling it together before pushing it to the side, exposing you.

Moving the hand from your neck, he lowers it against your hole, dipping only slightly to see just how much you're desperate.

Pressing his forehead against yours, he slowly slides one of his slender fingers inside, adding the second one with ease.

"There...How badly do you need that grade, show me?" your brain is mush, his voice eliciting constant shivers down your neck and spine, making your toes curl. This tone was new, voice raspy and rough.

You wrap both of your hands around his wrist, burying his fingers deeper, mewling when they start curling and prodding against the softness of your pussy.

"I thought you said we will do whatever I want" you protest, trying to call him out for being a liar.

"Is this not what you want?" he taunts, whispering in your ear.

"You want me to stop?" he questions, snaking his other hand under the small of your back for support before he starts slamming his palms into you, lewd slick sounds of your pussy against his hand filling the room. You feel like you can't catch a proper breath, each slap against your clit knocking the air out of your lungs with its intensity.

"No!" You moan, spreading your legs further apart until your thighs strain and the seams of your skirt loosen with painful ripping sounds.

"No?" he dares, gasping with you.

"This does feel good, doesn't it?" He can feel the burn in his shoulder, but he speeds up nonetheless, pulling out only to give a few filthy taps on your clit, spreading the slick from your cunt all over.

You slowly turn into a broken record, stuck on repeating syllables of his name, choked by incoherent whines and sniffles.

Your knuckles are turning white as you grip the table with great force, nails scraping against its edge.

"That's a pretty girl, it takes this little to rile you up huh?...No sweetheart don't cry...you can take it..." you feel overwhelmed, you're not even sure if you can cum from the sheer intensity of his thrusts, but it's so addicting and you welcome the water welling up in your eyes.

"I don't think I can cum like that Sir, please...Jesus....fuck" you whine, your legs tensing.

"You don't have to..." he encourages. "Just enjoy it until it's too much, yeah?" his considerate words are followed by a harsh slap against your pussy, making you jolt in his grasp.

You pull him close, burying your head in his shoulder, nodding.

He has to admit that his hand began to ache a while ago, and he can't feel his fingers anymore, the thrusts turning sloppy and mismatched in tempo as he tries to keep up the intensity.

You twist your fingers into his thick hair, desperate to anchor yourself. You're tearing up, your body shaking as it struggles to keep up with how good and bad everything feels at the same time.

He shows mercy soon, pulling out his fingers. You grip onto him tightly, feverishly grabbing at the strands of his hair.

"Please, I need-" you mumble, too embarrassed to articulate anything else, hoping that by some magic he'll read your mind.

His hands find purchase on your skirt, turning you around and guiding your ass against his dick.

"Is this what you're whining for? Or is it something else?" he asks, prodding the tip of it inside.

"I-" you start, trying to defend yourself, but the slow drag of his length stops you, stretching you so much you fear you might split in half. No...that's not it, it's not the sheer thickness of it that makes you tremble, it's the fact that when you turn around he's barely in yet and you already feel like you can't fit an inch further.

He felt big in your mouth but this is different.

"Gonna fuck you until you're spilling out sweetheart...and you're gonna come over here again if you want your silly little grade okay? And you're not going to tell anyone about it..." he threatens, grabbing handfuls of your ass and spreading your cheeks apart so that he can truly see how you're taking him in. He pulls out briefly only to spit in his hand, leathering his dick with a few sloppy strokes.

He pushes into your cunt with a punched-out moan rushing out of his mouth, "such a tight greedy pussy...listen to how nice it takes me..." he praises, giving sloppy thrusts to prove his point, the plapping noise urging him to grind into you harder.

He leans down, angling his hips so that his cock prods even deeper, his shaft finally disappearing fully.

Sneaking an arm under your belly, he slides his hand to cup your wet cunt. You want to respond to his previous threat, but you can't, every word of disagreement would be a blatant lie.

He twirls your clit with his fingers, pinching and flicking over it with each meaningful snap of his hips.

He stills, pressing his hips flush against your ass before pulling you up into his chest, turning your head to the side to distract you from the burn in your core, the change of position intruding in places he didn't press against a moment ago.

Your brows furrow, adjusting to the feeling. "Mr. Zhongli, it hurts, please-"

Grabbing a handful of your breasts, he pins you even closer, your arms flying up to hold onto his forearm.

His fingers are still circling your clit, easing the dull ache in your lower tummy.

"It'll feel better..." he whispers, moving the hand from your pussy and tugging at your wrinkled blouse.

Your eyes are half-lidded but you nod, dropping your arms to your sides for him to slide it off of you. You're breathing heavily, huffing with every minor tug of his dick, jolting ever so often when he sinks snugly against your cervix.

He spreads your legs with his feet, pushing you back down mercifully.

"I'm so nice to you... am I not" he grins, tugging on your hair once he starts fucking into you again.

You can't see it but his eyes are dark with lust like he was an animal locked up behind the bars with someone swaying a juicy piece of meat in front of his nose, and he was finally let out.

His hidden obsession with you was concerning, he wanted to beg and selfishly take you at the same time, and all you ever had to do was smile and nod at him to get him this whipped. He just couldn't understand how it slipped his attention.

He'll make you drunk off his cock, so much that you never want to look at anyone else ever again.

He sways between gentle adoration and toxic possessiveness he can't control, altering amongst sweet promises and hushed groans of claim over you whole.

Only now does he realize how badly he needed to do this, the laid-back facade crumbling over once he feels like he's close, the need to release so deep inside you until he's sure you'll end up knocked up with his kids. He knows he's thinking out loud, especially when you grind into him harder, ridden of last traces of sanity.

All other words are stuck in your throat, but the warm feeling in your belly fully agrees with him, eager to have him release inside you.

He's pounding ruthlessly, knocking you off your feet with each thrust, making the wooden floors creak under the two of you.

You gave up on holding onto the table, letting him hold you up by your hair and the hand that never stopped torturing your pussy, the same intense feeling you had when he fingered you present all over again, only this time you were closer, the ghost of an orgasm spreading through your muscles.

"Don't stop, please..." you whine, being pulled back against him so that he can dig his teeth at your pulse, leaving marks on your neck as he muffles his own screams.

Your toes curl, knees buckling when your high comes crashing in waves, the slaps on your clit sending your mind into a frenzy. You can feel the warm load spilling inside you, with a sharp thrust to your cervix, he makes sure he releases flush against it, fucking his cum in thoroughly.

Gasping for air, you hold onto each other, his hands wrapping possessively around you. Digging his nails into any part of your skin he can reach.

Once you can hold your own weight, he lowers you to the ground, pulling out of you. You hiss at the uncomfortable feeling, sitting up on the table to rest your sore legs.

Zhongli wipes the sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand, moving the hair out of his face.

You untangle the mess of your skirt and wiggle it back in place, inspecting the marks it left from biting into you for so long.

Shame settles in fast, and you can feel the tears stinging your eyes. How did you allow yourself to get to this point, you're not sure, but you feel nauseous once he adjusts himself within moments, sitting back down in his chair like nothing happened.

"Same time tomorrow Miss Y/N" and yeah, some of them get the nice, simple exchange, but you? You end up having to come to his office every day for the rest of that week, yet for some reason the habit picks up well after your grades are settled.

[A/N]: Hi! Thank you for reading and sorry for the wait! I just forgot how to exist for a second there but yeah, I hope you enjoyed 💕 once again minors do not interact w me even if you actually read this thank you <3

tip yar🍥

[amityranchi]

B. Tech in Ranchi University | Amity University Ranchi campus| Best colleges list in Ranchi

 If you are looking for B. Tech in Ranchi University then you are in the right place. 

When a student has finished their education, the hardest choice of their lives must be made! It's so difficult to decide which college and which course to enrol in. Students experience restlessness, and even mental health issues. Selecting among the top 10 engineering colleges in Ranchi is super easy now with Amity Ranchi being among the top colleges in Ranchi. 

There are several M. Tech Colleges and B. Tech Colleges. The best teachers, facilities, and campus placements are available at AU Ranchi campus. Realizing the significance of the best colleges in Ranchi for a prosperous career can help you get what you deserve!

Advantages of B. Tech at Amity

Growth: Engineering is no joke, and getting a B. Tech takes some serious attention, preparation, and most importantly, direction. One of the Top Engineering Colleges for the B Tech Course, Amity offers the necessary course assistance. Personal and professional development result from this.

The institute a student is attending will have an impact on how serious and dedicated they become to their studies. The engineering programmes at AU Patna will encourage the student to pursue his/her interest.

Better Life: Students long for independence. A better life is a result of people successfully settling down and achieving their goals. You may be sure that a better life is waiting for you if you pursue a B. Tech in Ranchi University, Amity.

Making Wishes Come True: The main goal of AU Patna is to provide students with what they actually deserve and to acknowledge students talents. You have the power to make your dream a reality.

Global Connections

Study abroad Programme (SAP)

The students will have first-hand exposure to learning about foreign culture, business, and economic dynamics. The students will have the chance to speak with international professors and work on narrowly focused projects with their guidance.

SAP is conducted at following Campuses/Universities:

London

Singapore

Dubai

Australia

USA

International Student Exchange

A study programme known as a "student exchange programme" allows students to spend six months to a year studying at an overseas institution. The typical study abroad programmes are distinct from exchange programmes.

Exchange programmes are also a great way for students to improve their lives while giving them the opportunity to advance their future aspirations. Students gain independence, develop a global perspective on numerous issues, and improve their language skills. Student exchange programmes are often long-term, but they offer once-in-a-lifetime opportunities.

B. TECH 3 continent programme 

A special B.Tech (3C) is a four-year undergraduate programme with the goal of giving students worldwide exposure to the UK and the USA so they can expand their knowledge and develop their talents on a global scale.

The program's goal is to develop graduates with the creative abilities and moral principles necessary to stay up with engineering's rapidly advancing technical landscape.

Young explorers who desire to invent will benefit specifically from the programme.

Engage with students of other countries in order to create beneficial new relationships and build a lasting network.

To offer a cutting-edge setting and infrastructure that will allow students to significantly contribute to computer science and engineering.

These are some factors that makes Amity University Patna one of the top B. Tech in Ranchi University course. Wish to know more, visit us on www.amity.edu/ranchi 

Source : https://amityuniversityranchi.blogspot.com/2023/02/b-tech-in-ranchi-university-amity.html

[potomacdebateacademy]

Potomac secures Harvard CHAMPIONSHIP and more!

WOW! This past weekend has been truly a debate extravaganza.

As in the wise words of Coach Noah, “Debaters, regardless of your competitive record, I hope you know how proud the coaches are of your efforts preparing for, and competing at this tournament. I promise you, if you ask any coach or any of the many teams who had competitive success this weekend, they will tell you that you learn far more from your losses than your wins. HOLD YOUR HEADS UP HIGH!”

That said, we would like to recognize the following individuals for their achievements:

49th Harvard National Forensics Tournament

High School Congressional Debate

Quarterfinalists: Armaan S. & Avi A. - EARNING A GOLD BID TO THE 2023 TOC!

Avi and Armaan are now fully qualified to the Tournament of Champions, the most competitive debate tournament in the country; they’re the first students in Potomac’s Congress program to bid and to be fully qualified! GO ARMAAN & AVI!

High School Varsity Public Forum Semifinalists: Ruth D. & Aaron T. - EARNING A GOLD BID TO THE 2023 TOC!

Ruth and Aaron placed in the top 4 of 326 varsity debate teams. This is a massive achievement at one of the hardest tournaments in the country! GO RUTH & AARON!

Triple Octofinalists (Top 64): Benjamin T. & Luke W. and Preston L. & Zayd P. We also want to recognize Brooke C. & Carol L and Digonto C. & Dhira V. for having a 4-2 record!

Speaker Awards: 5th: Ruth D.

Ruth ranked as the 5th best speaker out of more than 620 students competing in Harvard’s varsity tournament! GOOOO RUTTHHHHH.

High School JV Public Forum Triple Octofinalists (Top 64): Ella L. & Thomas W.

Middle School Public Forum Co-Champions: Diya B. & Ayan M. + Roselyn B. & Tiffany T.

The teams above CLOSED OUT HARVARD’S MS DIVISION!!!! Meaning, they took home 1st and 2nd place respectively out of 119 teams from across the country!

Quarterfinalists (Top 8): Daniela A. & Mira K. Octafinalists (Top 16): Anika B. & Kaylynn Y. and Amber W. &a Natalie Z. Double Octafinalists (Top 32): Aahana G. & Cady W. and Maanit K. & Ava Y. Triple Octafinalists (Top 64): Rishik S. & Alex Y. and Veer P. & Samarth S. and Veda D. & Anthony L. and Nathaniel D. & Josh K.

Speaker Awards:  7th: Roselyn B.  10th: Tiffany T.  13th: Anika B.  15th: Amber W.  18th: Nathaniel D. The 2023 Milo Cup at Millard North High School Varsity Public Forum Semifinalists: Angela G. & Abigail H. - EARNING A GOLD BID TO THE 2023 TOC! Octofinalists: Grace L. & Katherine X.

Speaker Awards:  2nd: Katherine X.  5th: Abigail H.  9th: Grace L.  18th: Angela G. Finally, MAJOR CONGRATULATIONS to our super team of Kaden C., Jonathan F., Alex L., Derek M., Lily P., and Evelyn S. for advancing to the SWEET 16 ROUND! This means they are now officially within the Top 16 of teams and will continue onward in the 2022-2023 The International Public Policy Forum. Press release is available here: https://www.ippfdebate.com/announcing-the-2022-23-sweet-16

[tatakaebomb]

Never gonna lose you

ꕥ Pairing : Ex Jean x Reader

ꕥ Synopsis : Seems like your now taken ex still cant seem to get enough of you, the riskier the behaviour the funner the sex

ꕥ A/N : Just a jean one shot because I feel you guys deserve more content. Gonna do more NC fics and one shots too hopefully more HC too.

ꕥ Word count : 0.7k

ꕥ TW : Cheating, deception, mentions of sex toys, cam sex, nude photos, nudity, sex, smut, fingering, finger sucking, creaming, vulgar language, infatuation, perverted thoughts, quickie, slight mentions of oral, toxic ex relationship, 18+

‘Fuck-‘

-Mmm yeah’ you whine, legs wrapping over the base of his hips as he hikes you up on top of the table. Fingers rapidly reaching to undo your buttons and throw your blouse on the floor.

‘I’ve been thinking of you all fucking day, do ya know how hard your pictures have been getting me? Hm? Do ya?!’ His hand greedily grabbed the flesh of your ass, gripping it between his digits. Tongue and mouth latched onto yours, his cock rubbing harshly onto your clothed cunt.

-

You were so naughty earlier, knowing jean was out with his new girlfriend all day. You couldnt get your hands off him, so desirable to his lips. The taste of you from so many years ago still lingered on his tongue every time he kissed her, every time he fucked her he imagined it was you he was fucking - you he was treating you right again.

The fiesty videos of you spread out for him, head swung back in ectasty as you pushed the dildo deep inside of you. The one that exactly measured jeans cock, the false veins striped from the balls and your cum coating it, drooling straight down onto your hands. Moans and grunts escaping your lips, glints back to the camera where you knew jean would be watching whilst he was out. Where you knew he would be doing his hardest to keep his erection to himself.

-

‘Missed you baby…’ you coo’ed, pretty eyes dazing your into his.

He was so adored by your face, he cant believe he’s stopped himself for so long. 3 years you’ve been apart and every single day he’s been away from you, the more he’s craved for you. For your touch, your feeling. Nothing ever compared to you. All the photos and texts sent to each other in a build up was just a tease for how good you actually felt. How excited you both get for the lingering scent of one another every time you fuck.

‘Gn’ fuck you so good. Ya want that hm? Me to fuck you how I used to?’

A nod to your head had him go feral, his saliva and drool conjoining on your tongue as you rubbed yourself on top of his kitchen counter. The one his new girlfriend uses to prepare their dinner, the one his new girlfriend had built in specifically for their new home together. The one where his old girlfriend got relentlessly fucked for a year straight while she wasn’t home.

His digits darted inside your pussy, rubbing your clit harshly as you rolled your hips off his wrist, arms wrapped round his neck and tits pushed against his chest. Breathless gasps escaping you every time that g spot was hit. Pupils diluting, lip getting bit, head rolled onto his shoulder. Your lips pecking into his neck weakly, moans sending vibrations through his body and directly towards his erect cock.

‘So good mm…’ you mumble. Sweet elicited noises escaping your parted, swollen lips.

‘So wet f’ me…’

The more you grinded into him the closer you felt yourself edge to your release. Stomach knotted and bra covered tits rubbing against him. Body doing everything it could to achieve what you desperately craved, what you’ve longed for this entire day.

‘M’ Gn’ cum…’

‘Yeah? Go for it baby..’

Almost on command you squirted onto him, your slick lathered onto him. Cum white and thick, how he loves it to be. Your fucked out body slumped on him, head tilted to meet his as he pushed his fingers into his mouth. Swirled tongue lapping up the sweet taste of you. Your core throbbing at the sight of him delving into every part of him. A soft whine leaving your throat as soon as he leaned back into kiss you. Swaps of liquid and cum feeling so good against your dried throat.

‘Wanna put that pretty mouth to use hm?’ Thumb dragging against the tip of your puffy lips. Your lip bite and Keenly behaviour was enough to show him how horny you were right now.

That was until-

‘Jean?!’

[the-little-ewok]

Waiting

Waiting (Oneshot) Poe Dameron X G/N Reader Word count: 2900(ish) Rating: M Warnings: Angst (with a happy ending), Fluff, implied sexual content (non explicit), mention of injury, language

Summary: The waiting is always the worst. The minutes that drag themselves forward. The long hours that bleed into days. At least it won't be for long this time. “I’ll be home in a few days. I promise.” Except he isn't.

----

It's been 3 minutes since he left.

He's barely gone and your heart aches already, even though your lips still tingle from his last kiss. His smile is still bright in your mind. His voice is still perfect in your ears.

"I'll be home in a few days. I promise." He'd kissed you again, softly, sweetly. The same way he did every time he left. He'd held his palm to your cheek while he looked you over, committing every part of you to memory, even though he knows he won't be gone long. It's a routine he follows every time he leaves, and every time you feel the same familiar tug on your heart.

Then, just like every other time, the warmth of his touch was gone, and he disappeared up into his X-Wing, giving you a wink as he strapped himself in and closed the canopy.

"Be safe." You'd mouthed to him, stepping back to a safe distance to watch his departure. "Come home."

He'd blown you a kiss. You’d pretended to catch it and hold it to your heart. Even through the transparisteel, you could see the way his grin widened in response.

Then he was gone, up into the stars, and with the retreating vision of his ship, the colour dropped out of your world. Everything suddenly seemed dull and lifeless.

It's always this way until he comes back. It's always this way when you're waiting.

The waiting is always the worst. The minutes drag themselves forward. The long hours bleed into days. At least it won't be for long this time.

"I'll be home in a few days. I promise."

~

It's been 3 days, 4 hours, and 26 minutes since he left.

You always get anxious after a few days. You miss him, but for a while you can enjoy the quiet moments, busy yourself with work and try to push his absence to the back of your mind. You wait for his messages, his footsteps in the corridor outside your room, the call of your name, but for the most part, you can distract yourself until the last minute. Until you know he should be back. That's when the anxiety hits you the hardest. The suffocating worry that puts you on edge right until the moment he’s home and safe, settles in your chest. The sudden thought that hits you — he should be coming home... but what if he doesn’t? He always comes home though.

He hasn't been in contact, but it's not unusual, not when he's on these types of missions. You're not too worried yet. He'll come home full of apologies and kisses, telling you how much he missed you, how he missed your voice, your eyes, your lips. You'll laugh and tell him he should rest as he pulls you to the bed. He'll ignore your suggestion.

He always does.

"I'm hungry.” He'd complained against your neck, his voice gravelled with tiredness. You'd kissed his dark curls and shuffled out from under his arm.

"You get some rest, and I'll go find us something to eat." You'd tried to climb out of the bed, but his arms wrapped around your waist again, holding you back.

"No, you can't leave me yet. I only just got back. You aren't leaving this bed. I'll wait. It's worth starving to death to taste your kisses instead."

You'd allowed yourself to sink back into his arms with a giggle. His kiss had been heated, passionate and achieved its intent of making you dizzy and breathless.

"I'll make sure next time you come home I'll have snacks."

He'd given you a bright grin. "Promise?"

"Promise." You’d groaned as his lips found your neck once more.

He'll be home any day now. This day or the next. So you'll wait a little longer. You'll make sure things are perfect for when he gets back. You tidy his room in preparation, you wash and fold his clothes neatly, you keep notes of everything he's missed. You put his favourite snacks on the table. The waiting won't last much longer.

"I'll be home in a few days. I promise."

~

It's been 7 days, 6 hours, and 27 minutes since he left.

Any news? Nothing yet.

You weren't too worried at first. Not after he was a day late. Not even after two. But by three, the anxiety had started to twist harder in your stomach. By four, sleep had started to evade you. You tell yourself he's fine. He's just delayed. He probably managed to talk himself into some kind of trouble, and likely out of it too. He's just delayed. A few days is nothing. But every day without communications, without news, every day of silence only adds to the growing worry.

While you wait your mind wanders back to the last time he was late.

"Poe. Stop talking. I'm just glad your home and safe!" You'd interrupted after he'd burst into your room, still in his flight suit, apologising for being late back from his mission and rambling on about stolen ships and Jawas. "I was starting to worry."

He'd stopped talking and smiled at you. "I'm glad I'm home safe too. I have the best story to tell you.” His eyes had been so lit up with excitement even under the heavy veil of tiredness. You could tell the mission had gone well, and you knew he would talk for hours and hours. He’d tell you everything, whether you want to hear it or not. Luckily you did. You always do.

He'd taken the few steps into your room and pulled you into his arms, cuddling you tightly.

"You smell worse than a womp rat nest,” you whined, trying to duck out of his arms.

He'd laughed and only held you tighter, placing a soft kiss to your head. “I’m happy to see you too, baby.”

You check in every day. You check the flight logs. You check messages. You send comms to everyone you know across the galaxy, every ally and friend you have. Every day, you check the news feeds for any tiny piece of information, equally hopeful and dreading what might come up. Nothing ever does. You tell yourself you just have to wait a little longer. He’ll be home soon.

Any news? No. Nothing yet.

"I'll be home in a few days. I promise."

~

It's been 3 weeks, 13 hours, and 37 minutes since he left.

The days pass in a blur now, and there are still no communications. No answers to your calls. No ship landing on the docking station. No bright smile and kisses. No apologising for his late return before running off for debriefings, promising to find you later.

They tell you not to be worried. There are no reports that he's been captured. No signs of his ship or him. You’d have heard if he was hurt. You'd know if it was worse. These are good signs. He's just delayed somewhere not able to get a message out. Missing in action. But not lost. Not yet.

It doesn't make you feel any better; it doesn't make the waiting easier. But you stop asking for news. They’ll tell you if they find him. They tell you that you look tired. That you should rest. They force you to take some time off.

But you can’t relax. Instead you pace around his room. You re-fold his clothes. You re-make the bed and re-order his books. You re-clean his tools. When you pick up his jacket to hang it, the lingering scent of him brings tears to your eyes.

"You're freezing cold!" He'd exclaimed as he took your hands in his while you sat outside on the ground, watching the sun setting in the distance, away from the hum of life on the base. Taking both your hands in his, he’d blown warm air on them, bringing a tingling sensation to your fingers.

"Yes. It's the middle of winter. Who wants to watch a sunset in winter?" You’d laughed, your breath coming out in puffs of smoke.

"It's supposed to be romantic." He'd winked back, shrugging off his jacket and wrapping it around you. He’d wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close against him. You'd felt instantly warmer surrounded by the scent of him, his body pressed against your side.

"You'll catch a cold without a jacket,” you’d said.

"Help keep me warm then." He'd smiled and leaned to press his lips to yours for the first time. You'd stopped noticing how cold it was after that.

You bury your face in the material as the tears spill over onto the fabric, your knees giving way under you as you collapse to the floor. How much longer can you wait?

You spend the night in his room. Curled in his bed, his jacket wrapped around you. If you close your eyes tightly and try hard enough, you can imagine he's there with you, his arm thrown over your waist, his body pressed close against yours, the gentle contented sigh he gives as he sleeps.

"I'll be home in a few days. I promise."

~

It's been 4 weeks, 1 day, and 5 hours since he left.

Nobody says it. Not directly to you. But you hear it in whispers. Notice conversations stop when you enter rooms. The quiet hush that falls over the cantina when you walk in. The eyes that watch you as you mutely wander the corridors.

What if he's not coming back?

He’d be back by now if he was alive right?

Probably dead. Or worse.

Nobody's heard from him at all. Heard they are going to call it soon.

Looks heartbroken. You heard the crying in the night?

Worse without a body. No way to say goodbye.

"We're worried about you."

Snap drops by every day. He brings you something to eat when you can't stand the looks any longer. At first, you manage a smile. They are worried too. They are missing their friend. They don't need to worry about you as well. You tell him it's alright, you're alright. You're used to waiting. You're sure he's fine.

You leave the comms open all night. Sending desperate messages. Please come home. Please. Over and over. But nobody answers. You fall into a fitful sleep every night with it open. You wake every morning to the silence.

A blast of static had woken you in the night.

"You there? Baby?" His voice had sounded so close that you'd looked around the dim room for him, before realising it was coming from the com next to your pillow. You'd slept with it since he left. Waiting for his call.

"I'm here. You're late calling,” You'd mumbled, still half asleep.

"I woke you up. I'm sorry. I forgot you might be sleeping. Time doesn't really exist out here." You could hear the soft rumble of his engine in the background, the quiet beeps and clicks as he pressed buttons and flipped switches.

"No. It's ok. I miss hearing your voice." Sitting up, you'd pulled the sheets around you, against the chill that always seems to settle in your room in his absence. You'd cradled the com gently in your hand, as though through it you could have touched him. "I can't sleep properly without you now anyway. I miss you."

You’d thought about how it was getting harder every time he left. The hole he left behind became increasingly bigger. A piece of you was always missing when he's gone. The world was so much darker without his light.

He was quiet for a moment before he answered. "I miss you too, baby. I miss you so fucking much it hurts." Your eyes had burned with tears. Because he felt it too. The waiting hurt you both.

As the days pass by, you can't get the words out anymore to say your fine. You can’t say he’s ok because you don’t know. He’s never been gone this long without a word, and when Snap hugs you tight, you dissolve into tears-full howling, painful sobs that scratch your throat and choke you. Because you wish it was his arms around you. Because he's supposed to be here. Because you miss him so much it hurts.

"I'll be home in a few days. I promise."

~

It's been 5 weeks, 4 days, 16 hours, and 45 minutes since he left.

It wakes you suddenly in the middle of the night. The irrational, deep-seated panic that you can't remember him. That pieces of him are already fading from you so soon. You can't quite pinpoint the way his voice sounds. Or the exact colour of his eyes. Or the way he smiled. The memories seem fuzzy and unrealistic. Everything you can imagine seems wrong and out of place.

It makes it hard to breathe as your chest tightens. You need to remember. You desperately try to hold the pieces to you. Your mind is reeling as you try to remember him. Your most vivid memories seem suddenly blurred at the edges. You try desperately to remember the exact way he'd said he loved you the first time. Right here in this room.

"I need to talk to you." He'd rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as you tilted your head in curiosity. You didn't remember a time you'd ever seen him unsure like that. No, not your self-assured commander. He was always sure. Your heart had dropped. You remember thinking nothing good was about to leave his mouth.

"Iloveyou."

He'd blurted it out so quickly you'd frowned, not understanding the jumbled words he'd garbled out. "I… What?"

"I love you." He'd looked at you almost meekly and then given you a lopsided grin. "If that's ok?"

Your heart had felt like it would burst from your chest, and you hadn't been able to stop the bubble of laughter that fell from your lips in pure relief.

"If it's...? Stars, of course it's ok, you idiot. I thought you were going to tell me something terrible!" You'd giggled and wrapped your hands around his, holding them tightly. "Suppose I should tell you I love you too. If that's ok?" You'd teased.

He'd grinned back, finally relaxing, his soft brown eyes holding yours, his thumb softly stroking the back of your hand.

"It's better than ok."

The memory was once vibrant, bright, so easily recalled, every detail perfect, but nothing feels right about it now. Did he sound like that? Was that really his smile? Were his eyes that exact shade of brown? Did his hands feel that gentle?

Desperately you scramble around for the comms. Are you there? I need you. I love you. Please answer. Come home. You promised. You promised. You promised. Silent static is the only response.

"I'll be home in a few days. I promise."

~

It's been 6 weeks, 2 days, 4 hours, and 2 minutes since he left.

When they tell you there is a ship incoming, you don't let yourself hope. It's impossible to make out the voice through the breaking static as they try and call in. The ship is barely keeping in the air and it's impossible to speak with them. Unrecognised. Unregistered. And crashing down. You can't let yourself hope. It could be anyone.

Your feet carry you to the yard, but your mind is still elsewhere. You don't really take any notice of the hustle and bustle around you at the new arrival. Not until you step out into the drizzling rain. You glance up at the hiss of the bay doors, and you see him. Your mind catches up so quickly it makes you dizzy, and you stumble, your heart beating wildly.

He's filthy, limping, bleeding from a deep cut on his head and in need of several good meals. But alive.

When you reach him, he doesn't speak, not at first, and you can't make your tongue work to say all the things you want to. You want to tell him you missed him. You want to ask if he’s alright. You want to shout at him for making you worry. But there will be time for talking later.

You lift a hand to touch him, but you drop it again just as quickly, worried he isn’t real and you could break this dream. His eyebrows pull together as he frowns at you. He lifts a hand to wipe the tears you hadn't realised were falling, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek. Only then do you allow yourself to believe. He's here. He’s alive. He’s home.

You throw your arms around him and hug him tightly. He lets out a grunt of pain, and you realise he's probably hurt. But when you try to let him go, he shakes his head and wraps his arms around you, holding you to him. With his touch, the world comes back into colour. Bright and vibrant. You didn't forget the way he smiled. Or the colour of his eyes. And when he talks, you remembered his voice exactly.

"Sorry I'm late."

It's been 6 weeks, 2 days, 4 hours, 17 minutes since he left. But the waiting is over, and he's home.

----------

Thank you for reading!

(I may do part 2 if anyone is interested)

Beta by the lovely @the-scandalorian

Further Poe stories : Masterlist

Requests are open

Taglist: @fisforfulcrum ; @pumpkin-stars ; @beydameron ; @mypedrom ; @salome-c ; @mbpokemonrulez ; @prettylilhalforc ; @reenadreams ; @lexloon ; @fett-ching ; @jitterbugs927 ; @one-hell-of-a-disappointment ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @dailyreverie ; @mandorush ; @the-scandalorian

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[ziskandra]

Fic: fire at the heart

Fandom: Dragon Age

Character: Meredith Stannard

Summary: Certainty does not listen, but it can Sing.

Rating: M

Tags: Body Horror, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Character Study, Redemption, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Red Lyrium, Psychological Horror

Words: 803

Excerpt:

The demon had come for them last, as if it intended to savour this final kill; for all that the Stannards had tried the best for their daughters, wanting to shield them from the horrors of this world, they had been too soft. They had failed to adequately prepare Amelia for the challenges she would face, and thus they had all learnt the harshest of lessons in the hardest of ways. 

Mercy is weakness. Mercy is failure. And Meredith cannot afford to fail anyone ever again. Whenever she looks over Certainty late at night, admiring the contours of the blade, marvelling at how the shine of the lyrium never dulls, she feels it in her bones: this is her sword, her purpose. Its crooning melody promises her power beyond her wildest dreams, promises enough power to put an end to all the suffering of Kirkwall, if not the entirety of Thedas itself. 

The whispered critiques grow louder, but so does the song, reinforcing her will, which is is the will of her Maker. It is what He put her in this world to achieve, and it is through this that she can best serve Him. Many ages have passed since He turned his gaze from them, devastated by the betrayal of His second-born children. She wants Him to be proud of her, to serve by His right-hand side, to be finally judged worthy after all of her previous failures. She will guard her charges, protect them from the manipulations of the Maker's first children, whom He had not entrusted with the powers of creation the way He had had entrusted his second. Demons cannot sing; they cannot sing as humans do, nor the elves, or even the dwarves, or qunari. Their cries are not needed for His return, and she will ensure they fall on deaf ears, on the sharp edge of her blade. Certainty does not listen, but it can Sing.   Read the rest on AO3!

(written for @venatohru)

[catzula]

Seven stages of falling in love.

Synopsis: You're afraid of needles and Bakugou is not the most suitable person that should be handling your shots for seven days.

Pairing: bakugou x reader

Warnings: cursing, I have no idea how long it is since it's written on my phone this time, probably a lot of errors

Genre: fluff, some tiny bit angst but a happy ending so no worries

A/N: I was on a 9-hour road trip and wrote this to keep me sane.

BTW 50 followers yaay!

Day 1

"What do you mean I need to get antibiotic shots for a week?!" You exclaimed, refusing to believe what you just heard. It was just a sore throat, or so you had thought. You never liked doctors, so you rarely saw one, but when your 'sore throat' lasted for a whole month, your friends literally forced you to go see one.

You knew it wasn't anything important, but maybe it would help to get a home rest for a day or two, giving you a little more time to binge anime study for that one exam that was coming up.

All your hopes and dreams died when you;

a) didn't get to have any home rest, cause apparently, you didn't have to stay home for a sore throat,

b) had to get shots for a week?!

This was why you hated doctors! You went in for a sore throat, hoping to get a home rest, and got what? A week of-

"It means what I just said." The doctor answered your question gruffly, making you send him a questioning look. Weren't the doctors supposed to be all nice and smiley? This one sure wasn't.

"I don't want to!" You whined, "Isn't there a pill or something I could take?" He sent you a look that could only mean, are you dumb or something?

But you couldn't care less about what he thought about you, though he was one of the most handsome men you had ever seen, all you were thinking about was doing whatever you could to not get any shots. "Is there no other way?" You asked, once again. This caused him to sigh loudly, turning his red eyes once again on you.

"No. You'll come here every day for a week to get shots, no pills, no nothing. Okay?" The harsh tone of his voice sent chills through your body, blood-red eyes of his made you wonder if they were real. "I- uh... Yeah, okay." You told him, feeling a little intimidated, though you wouldn't admit it if it killed you.

He turned his back to you while he prepared the syringe, giving you the perfect chance to look at him without being crushed under his crimson gaze.

His shoulders were so wide and his waist so narrow, it created the perfect triangle. You could see his the muscles of his arms flexing with every move, you almost felt unable to take your eyes off of his arms. But what stood out the most was his ash blonde, spiky hair. It defied the gravity in a way you had never seen before, and you just wanted to run your fingers through them, wondering if they were as hard as they looked.

He turned his face to you, you knew he noticed you staring, you could see that by the smirk he sent you, though he didn't comment on it.

You took deep breaths in, trying to calm yourself, though you could feel the blood draining from your face, your hands shaking ever so slightly. His brows furrowed, a look of slight frustration on his face. "You okay?"

You gulped, biting your lip. "I- I'm just..." you didn't want to admit you were scared of needles, not to him, but he did it for you. "You're scared."

You shrugged, still not admitting but not denying either. "You could say I'm not a fan." He rolled his eyes, looking at you as you were dumb. "Nobody is a fan." You could swear you heard him mumble, dumbass under his breath.

He pressed the base of the syringe slightly, testing it, not noticing or simply ignoring the look you had sent him. He rubbed alcohol on your arm, bringing the syringe closer. He was about to stick it when you couldn't stop yourself and gripped his wrist with all your might. Your hand couldn't wrap his wrist at all, and he could have ripped it free so easily, though he didn't.

"What the-"

"Wait!" You told him, not aware of what you were doing, your fear taking over. "Please don't? I don't- don't want... it."

"Come on, it doesn't hurt that much." He told you, feeling his frustration growing bigger with every second that past. He was Bakugou Katsuki, for fucks sake, he wasn't supposed to deal with little girls afraid of needles.

He was the number one of his class, he always was. He decided he wanted to be a doctor and save lives when he was so little, and he always had that dream in him. He worked so hard to achieve that, and now he was spending his summer as an intern in the best hospital of Japan, the hospital he always wanted to work at.

But this wasn't it! Ever since he started, they gave him small, insignificant things to do, like check-ups he was doing now. Sore throat? Who did they think he was, making him check sore throats and runny noses?

He felt so frustrated, he didn't notice you trembling like a leaf under his touch. Your eyes were so wide open, filled with pure fear, your under lip trembling, your hands gripped his wrist like it was your lifeline.

"I'm sorry-" you told him. "I just can't... can't stand needles."

He sighed, though he could feel his frustration disappearing slightly.

"That's fine, I guess." He told you, earning a hopeful glance from you. "Just look at me, nowhere else." That wasn't hard, was it? You couldn't take your eyes off of him anyways. You locked your eyes with his, noticing how oddly soothing his hard toned voice was.

"Listen to me, okay?" He told you. "My name's Bakugou. I went to UA Medical school, and this is my third year, 'm an intern here." You never would have guessed he was that young, only a year older than you, and he went to one of the hardest universities in Japan?

You never once looked away from his eyes, trying to forget the sharp object that was about to enter your skin. When he asked about you, you gulped, you were about to send a small glance at your arm, the one he was holding, but he gripped your chin with his free hand, not letting you look anywhere else, but his eyes.

"I- I'm Y/N." You whispered. "I'm going to ****, and I'm a second year." He nodded, and you smiled weakly.

"That's cool." He told you, "though not cooler than the fact that I finished your shot almost two minutes ago." A smug grin was now curving his lips.

"You what?!" You exclaimed, you looked at your arm, which now had a small band-aid. "You- you... how did you do that?" You asked him, smiling uncontrollably.

"A doctor never reveals his secrets." He told you, though you saw he had a small smile too.

You took your bag and coat, about to exit the room when you sent a small glance his way. "Thank you, doctor Bakugou. " You told him, earning a surprised look from him.

Nobody had ever thanked him this way before.

Day 2

"Hi," you stood at the door, not sure whether you should enter or just stay there.

"Why the hell are you standing there?" He asked you roughly. "Oh, uh, sorry." He shrugged, sipping his coffee. You could tell by the smell that it was pure poison, or in other words, espresso.

"Don't apologize and sit down already."

You sat down, feeling uncomfortable, though you weren't sure why. Maybe it was because you showed him your vulnerable side the day before? You weren't sure. 

Your eyes wandered over his figure, he looked as handsome as he was the first time you saw him, or maybe even more? It shouldn't be allowed to be so handsome, you thought. And why did that white coat look so good on him?

Though he was aware of you watching his every move, he didn't want to say anything about it since he could feel your growing panic as he walked towards you with the syringe in his hands.

"We're doing it as we did it yesterday. "He told you, "You're looking at me, and me only." He smirked when he saw you nodding. "Good."

"Now, tell me, what are you studying?" He shook his head, genuinely looked interested as he listened you blabbering. "Why are you doing this?" You asked him. "Is it for the money?"

He shrugged, though he had a smirk on. "I'll tell you about that another day since you're good to go."

"No way!" You told him, looking at your arm, which was once again already stung, cleaned, and stuck with a cute little band-aid.

"You're the best. " You told him as you giggled, still not over the fact that he already gave you two shots without you even noticing.

"Of course I'm the fucking best." He told you, making you giggle once again. "Not sure you should be using that language around your patients, Doctor Bakugou."

He made a tch noise, turning his back to you. "Whatever, go complain to the administration or something." His voice was harder than you had ever heard from him, though to his surprise, you giggled as you walked to the door.

"Of course I'm not going to do that," you told him, smiling sweetly. "Don't expect me to complain about my favorite doctor."

With that, you left the room, leaving Bakugou once again struck with shock. Nobody ever told him he was their favorite doctor, on the contrary, people loved to complain about his angry behavior and foul mouth.

And though he would never accept it, he smiled ever so slightly, noticing a warm feeling spreading to his chest.

Day 3

"Hey, doctor." You entered the room, a big smile on your face that you didn't seem to have any control over.

"Hey." He answered, making you surprised. This was the first time he said 'hey' back. "I noticed you changed our appointment hours." It used to be in the morning but you had learned just today that he changed it to 13:00.

"Yeah." He answered, looking a little uncomfortable. "Why?" You asked further, but your eyes widened a little when you noticed his cheeks had a pink tint to them. "I fucking wanted to, okay?"

"Okay," you told him, laughingly. "I was just curious, you know?"

Nope, you weren't just curious. You wanted to know if it was because he had a date or something, and even though that didn't make any sense at all, you just couldn't help yourself.

What he didn't tell you was that he did change your appointments because of a girl, you. He switched your appointment to right before his lunch break so he could spend a little more time with you, though he couldn't even admit that himself.

"Don't be." He answered as you sat down. This time he had prepared the syringes before you came so that you wouldn't get anxious as he prepared them in front of you.

"That looks like a nice book." He told you as he rubbed your arm with alcohol. You were so stressed that you couldn't even understand what book he was referring to, not aware that you were holding the book in your hands for your dear life. "It's my favorite book." You answered, not looking away from his eyes. You could swear you saw his eyes in your dream last night.

"What's it about?" He asked, once again, looking genuinely interested. You loved talking about books, so much that people would sometimes ask you to stop. But he looked so interested, like he was actually listening, not because he had to, but he wanted to, you couldn't stop.

You started talking about this book, jumping to talk about another, then another. He joined you some time, you weren't really sure when. You started to talk about your favorite books, you talked about his favorite book, argued on one book that he liked, but you hated, did the same with a book you loved, and he didn't.

The conversation lasted so long, and you wouldn't have stopped if your phone hadn't ringed. "Oh, fuck." You mumbled under your breath, realizing you were in there for at least an hour and a half. "I'm so sorry, I lost control!" You told him, laughing nervously. Did you bore him to death?

"It's okay, I guess." He told you, his hand scratching the back of his neck. "You do talk too fucking much, but it wasn't necessarily bad. And it was actually my lunch break, so I won't get in trouble or shit."

"Oh, okay." You answered smiling once again. "I guess, I owe you lunch now."

You exited his room before you let him answer, you were afraid he was going to tell you to fuck off or something, though you had never thought he would agree, he was about to do just that before you sprinted out the room.

He realized only minutes after you exited that you left your 'favorite book' behind, only for him to read it.

Day 4

"Instant noodles?" He asked you, with a look on his face you couldn't quite interpret. It resembled something along the lines of trying to hold his laughter in and thinking you were the dumbest person on the earth.

"I did owe you lunch, you know." You told him. 

"Yeah, I know, but I thought you meant something like a bagel or some shit, somewhere outside the hospital."

Thinking back, maybe instant noodles were a bad idea.

"How about tomorrow?" You asked. He shrugged, "Fine, whatever." He looked indifferent, but his pink-tinted cheeks told you he wasn't.

He shrugged, you noticed he did this a lot when he was uncomfortable, you also noticed how fast your heartbeat was every day you entered this room, and not because of the needles.

You noticed how, since the first day, you woke up feeling excited about seeing him. Thinking about what you were going to talk about that day, as you go about your day when something happened, you found yourself thinking about telling it to him the next day.

You noticed how your heart clenched, a dreadful feeling in your stomach, when you thought about the week was coming to an end.

You noticed you were starting to... fall in love with him.

You talked about this to your friends too, and they were more than aware of how your eyes glistened when you talked about him, how you smiled unintentionally.

And the problem was, that he was also aware of all these too. He saw how you looked at him, and he wasn't dumb, he knew what these meant, as well as the tightening in his chest.

You weren't the only one, waking up, excited to see each other. When Denki said something dumb, he thought about telling it to you the next day, he thought about what he could talk about with you to soothe you the next time you gripped his wrist, asking him to stop with teary eyes, he never ever wanted to see you looking that afraid ever again. Hell, he even looked at wikihow, how to calm someone down when they feel afraid, and he was about to be a doctor for God's sake.

It was scary for him, to be this vulnerable for someone, to care so much in such little time, such a foreign feeling taking over his sensible part.

He was about to say something else when he noticed your knee and the very poorly wrapped bandage over it, you had 'wrapped' the bandage like a shoelace and he never in his life saw something so horrible. He sent you a look that made your cheeks all red.

"What the fuck is this?" He asked you, opening the bandage in one quick motion. "Oh, I fell yesterday, nothing too serious."

"You dumbass," Bakugou mumbled as he looked at the wound closely. "Didn't you even clean it?" He asked angrily.

"I did!" You told him. "I mean, I tried to. But it hurts when I touch it..." He rolled his eyes as he took some stuff from the drawers. "Are you afraid of these too?" He asked sarcastically, not expecting an answer, but you did anyway.

"No." You answered as you pouted. "Just needles." He shook his head as he laughed softly. "And trees at night." You mumbled and he froze.

"You have to be kidding me!" He told you, he wasn't even treating the wound anymore, but just looking at you like he waited for you to say you were joking.

"Hey! You have to admit they have a scary side to them!"

"Trees at night?"

"Don’t laugh." You pouted. "They look all shadowy and like... they have long arms, open wide like they're about to catch you and never let you go."

"Oh my God," he groaned as he went on cleaning your wound. "That’s the dumbest thing I've heard." Though he thought it was the most adorable thing he heard too. A girl afraid of needles and trees at night.

The wound stung a little, but you didn't even feel it, you were thinking deeply about wanting to touch his hair. When he finished, your knee was wrapped nicely, and it didn't even hurt anymore.

"So, you never told me why you wanted to become a doctor." You told him as you recalled your chat the first day.

"Thought you would forget about that." He told you as you laughed. "Never."

"I wanted to save people, ever since I was a kid, I wanted to be a... hero, I guess." He told you, not even sure why he was telling you such a personal thing when almost no one knew this about him.

You couldn't stop the words tumbling down your lips. "I don't know about other people, but you're my hero."

Oh, shit. Your words led to a very awkward silence, and you thought you probably shouldn't have said that, though you meant every word.

"Thank you for that." He mumbled finally, causing your head to snap up and lock your eyes with his. You didn't expect him to thank you, at all, but now you just couldn't stop grinning.

"I feel like I'm getting over my fear." You said as you looked at the band-aid on your arm, the band-aid which, once again, miraculously appeared there. There was no way he could give you a shot, clean the small wound, and put a band-aid without you noticing at all! He was either a magician or you were in too deep.

"Yeah, seems like it." He told you, though he wasn't very enthusiastic about it.

You both ate your instant noodles in silence, I'm telling you, it's a bad idea to eat instant noodles with your crush, especially if its the first time you're eating together, and you just didn't know why his presence felt so distant and so awkward all of a sudden.

After you finished your noodles, oh my God why did that last that long? you grabbed your stuff, feeling a weird tug in your chest. "I think I should go."

His crimson eyes found yours, but you had no idea what he was thinking. "Okay." 

"See you tomorrow?" You asked, but a grunt was your only answer.

Day 5

"What do you mean Doctor Bakugou has another patient?" You asked the receptionist. She looked at you like you were dumb. "He isn't available at the moment, miss. Doctor Kirishima will be looking after you today."

You didn't know who Kirishima was, but you knew you didn't want him to handle you.

"Can I maybe come later? When he's available?" You asked with the last piece of hope left in you. "I'm sorry, miss." She answered by not actually answering. You sighed as you looked at the red-haired man watching you with a smile. He looked like a nice guy, but he wasn't the reason you were here.

***

"Wow, " Kirishima rubbed his temples as he took a so from his coffee. "One patient really pushed me today."

"What?" Bakugou asked, his voice so stern, Kirishima's eyes narrowed as he looked at his friend. He was really moody lately, and Kirishima wasn't sure why.

"I had this one girl, apparently she was afraid of needles." Suddenly Bakugou's hand was gripping the glass he was holding it a little too hard. "I tried to convince her that it wasn't going to hurt, but she was crying so hard I don't think she even heard me."

"She was crying?" Bakugou's voice was nothing more than a whisper, he could feel how fast his heart was beating, and how tight the grip on his chest was. Kirishima had never seen his friend worry over someone, and he never thought he would either, but today he could sense something was up. "Well, yeah. Really hard. But it wasn't the crying that got me but more like... She was so afraid, genuinely terrified. Even after the whole thing, she kept looking at her arm and still looked scared."

Bakugou looked away, he didn't want to hear this anymore. "That must be tough."

Kirishima shrugged. "I felt bad."

That day, Bakugou left the hospital with an ache in his chest.

Day 6

You didn't want to go back to the hospital. You didn't. You were too scared.

You had thought you were over your fear, but obviously not. You could only stand them when... He was around.

The moment you thought about the spiky blonde hair and red eyes, you felt your chest tightening.

You entered the lobby, eyes instinctively going to the door that had his silver initials. Your heart fluttered in your chest, longing to see him, praying that he would be here. You walked to the receptionist. She was telling you the same thing she did yesterday -sorry ma'am, he's just not available- when the door opened, and the silhouette of a man you longed to see standing in the doorway with a cup of coffee in his hand.

A smile found its place on your lips as you started to walk towards him -the receptionist was trying to talk to you still, but who cares- feeling relief washing over you.

He was here! You felt so relieved having him here, not only because he could do your injection without you noticing -but you had to admit, that was an amazing skill right there- but also because you... trusted him. You trusted Bakugou so much, that you could open your heart to him. You loved how he listened to you when you were talking about nonsensical things, how angry of a person he was but actually so nice, how he told you he hated those 'dumbass' friends of his, desperately trying to conceal how much he loved them.

He didn't see you as you walked to him, his eyes on the paper he was holding in his hand. You were about to call his name when you heard your name being called, though it wasn't he who said it.

Your brows furrowed, eyes turning to ho was calling you. The doctor from the day before stood there next to you, with a smile plastered on his face, his hand touching your arm slightly, about to lead you to his office. "Miss Y/N, you're with me today."

Bakugou's eyes snapped up, finding you almost instantly as he heard your name being called. Realizing you were also looking at him, his crimson eyes widened a little. "But..." you started to tell Kirishima, but the guilt-stricken look Bakugou sent you that he tried to conceal told you everything you should know.

You felt like your heart that was just hammering your chest stopped, hurt spreading in your body. Bakugou wasn't coming to the appointments on purpose, avoiding you, trying to get rid of you.

Were you really that hard to deal with? He couldn't take it not even for a week? You thought about the chats you had and how much you laughed when you were near him, and your chest tightened. Maybe you just were talking too much. Or maybe, he just didn't want to deal with a girl who was afraid of needles.

You let Kirishima lead you to his office, trying not to look at the man that you just turned you back to.

Even though you avoided looking at him, Bakugou could see how hurt you were in your eyes. And as he watched you walk with Kirishima, concealing how afraid you were and how much your knees were shaking, he felt like the asshole everyone told him he was.

***

Bakugou went to Kirishima's office the second you left. "How was she?"

Kirishima sighed, taking a sip from his coffee as he watched his angry friend with curious eyes. "I don't know, man. It was just weird." Bakugou's eyes widened, his hand anxiously running through his hair. "What the fuck does that even mean, shitty-hair?!" Bakugou felt like he was going to punch his red-headed friend if he didn't give him straight answers now. And obviously, Kirishima was aware too.

"Woah, chill down. Why do you even care, Bakubro? Never saw you so interested in any of your patients." Bakugou gritted his teeth. It was true he never really cared for his patients, nothing else than their health. But it was different with you, he cared about you, and everything about you.

"Just answer the damn question already." Said Bakugou gruffly, avoiding to answer his question.

Kirishima shrugged. "It was weird." He repeated. "Yesterday she was crying, at one point she begged me not to do it. I don't think she's scared of the needle hurting him but more like the needle itself." Bakugou knew all of this, and he was going to punch him in the guts if Kirishima didn't get straight to the point. "But today she was silent."

Silent? He had never seen you silent.

"She was like a- a statue. Didn't even flinch when I stuck the needle in her, didn't cry, or said a word. She was just looking at the needle and my hand, genuinely terrified. I felt like I was stabbing her or something." Kirishima recalled the memory, and a chill went through him.

Bakugou wasn't very different either. Thinking you like that broke his heart. He could understand you crying, and he would still be mad at himself for letting you cry, but what Kirishima told him was something else. It almost made him afraid.

"Anyways, I don't know man, tomorrow's the last day anyway."

"Yeah." Bakugou mumbled as he tried to forget what Kirishima just told him.

***

Bakugou couldn't get the image of you frozen with fear out of his mind the whole day. He buried himself in his work, still not able to think about anything else but you.

He went home, exhausted.

He took a shower and ate something when he saw the book you had left for him to read laying on his dining table. Ignoring the tightening in his chest, he picked the book up, and he realized the book was the only thing that could make him stop thinking of you, even just for a second.

And as he read, nonstop, he could swear the trees he saw from his window were watching him, making him feel a little creeped out.

Hell, maybe trees at night were creepy after all.

Day 7

Bakugou was having a bad day.

First of all, he had read your favorite book the whole night, not getting any sleep whatsoever. He wasn't the type of man to stay up till night, he never liked to do so either, but he did just that. No cup of coffee was helping him either.

What was bothering him, though, was that you just wouldn't show up. It was almost the end of his lunch break, and you still weren't anywhere to be seen. He knew that because he had been asking the receptionist about you every 5 seconds for the last hour or so.

He sighed as he finished the last sentence of the last chapter, of the book he was so caught up on, and as on cue, you went in the doors as he closed the book.

Bakugou felt anxiety doubling the beating of his heart as he saw you talking to the receptionist. He started to walk to you, replaying the speech he had decided on the day before to talk to you. But as you lifted your head and your gaze found his, he forgot everything that was on his mind.

And awkward silence sneaked in between you both as he towered over you. "Uh, hey," Bakugou mumbled.

"Hey." You said. "Umm, where is doctor Kirishima?" Ouch, Bakugou thought. He knew you didn't do it on purpose but it hurt anyway. "He won't be with you today," Bakugou told you, you didn't know why he looked so tired today, but how did he still look so damn handsome? "I will."

Your eyes widened as you understood what he said relief and anxiety washing over you at the same time.

You didn't trust your voice to say anything, so you just nodded.

As you sat in his office, awkwardly tapping your fingers according to a rhythm, you didn't know he was trying to gather up the courage to apologize. You didn't even mean to come in today, but you just didn't want him to see you as a coward, even more so. So you anxiously eyed the room when your eyes found the book you had left. He saw you looking at your book that was on his desk, and he smiled. "I finished the book."

"Does that mean I can have it back now?" You asked, making him grimace. He expected you to shower him with questions, to talk about it, to hear your voice... but apparently not.

"Yeah- yeah sure." You took the book back, holding it so hard, your knuckles turned white.

Bakugou sighed. "I missed you, you know."

Your heart started to beat so fast you were glad you were at a hospital. "Well, that isn't my fault." Bakugou didn't want to, but he smiled nonetheless. "No, it's not, it was me being an asshole."

"Right." You answered cynically, earning an angry look from the explosive guy.

"And I thought it was... for the best." He went on.

"Oh, of course, what else could it be?" You just couldn't seem to hold your tongue back today, and he was aware of that too.

"Can you not make this any harder?" He finally said gruffly. "I'm trying to fucking say that I'm-" his eyes widened as he realized what he was saying, that he was apologizing. But for the first time in his life, it didn't feel necessarily wrong.

"That I'm sorry."

You didn't need him to explain why he did what right now, just hearing that he was sorry was enough for you, so you smiled. "It really hurt, you know?" You told him as he started to walk towards you.

"I know." He answered, "and I'm fucking sorry." His hands held your arms as if he was about to pull you into a tight hug. But it wasn't necessarily a hug he was pulling you into. "But I can make it up to you." He whispered as he leaned in.

"And how are you going to do that?" You asked, but those were the last words you said before feeling the soft lips pressing on yours.

Your hands went to his hair almost instinctively, and you smiled into the kiss as you felt how damn soft they were.

***

"Remember that bagel promise we had? We could either do that or I could keep kissing you." He told you, smirking when he realized how breathless you were.

"But what about the..." your voice trailed off when you noticed the small band-aid on your arm. "When did you even do this?!"

[popcorn-kitten]

AITA? i stole my crush's cat (not as bad as it sounds)

Rating: M

Warnings: crass language, unhealthy romanticization, injuries mentioned

Pairing: peter/you, peter/reader

Summary: When Peter had finally approached you, your response wasn't what he'd wanted. And then being snubbed a second time had only fueled the fire to win you over. And to do so he'd have to get a little creative. But but but - it's for love! He knows what he's doing, and it's all for you!

Read on ao3

Pets were important, Peter knew this intimately. John Wick’s response had been more than justified. If anything happened to his beloved Rat there was no telling what his reaction would be. And Peter knew how much your cat meant to you.

He’d often found himself struggling with misplaced jealousy when seeing the creature sleeping peacefully on your chest, unable to let go of the thought that it should be him in that space. He’d watched with envy as your perfect fingers stroked the cat’s fur and melted at the thought of you touching him like that

Peter knew it was silly; who gets jealous of a cat? But he couldn’t always stop the feelings, and his psychiatrist had told him all his feelings were valid, furthering the justification in his mind of what he had to do.

He’d spent the better half of the last few months becoming acquainted with your feline companion (while also looking over you, of course.) And he had to admit, he’d grown rather fond of the fuzzy thing.

Which was a change, as the first few nights Peter had tried to come into your room was borderline disastrous. The cat hissed loudly when Peter had finally slipped through your window, causing him to lose his grip and fall backward, landing hard on the ground, ass first.

Peter had been terrified it had awoken you and cautiously he peeked up. Delight filled him to see you’d merely turned in your sleep. God, you looked amazing even when just lying still and breathing. Peter had been pulled out of his stupefied staring by a deep growl coming from below the window sill on your side.

He hadn’t thought to prepare for the pet and cursed himself for the stupidity. If he was going to show you the two of you were meant to be then he had to be more thoughtful. More precise in each move he made.

Slowly Peter held his hand out to the beast for it to sniff him. The cat was still heckled and guarded as it did so, Peter screwed his eyes shut internally prepared for a bite or claws but had been pleasantly surprised when none came. He slowly opened one eye and found the cat had not only found him to not be a threat, but boring as it had trotted off and out of the room entirely.

After that first night, Peter came prepared. He’d spent a little time searching the house for the cat treats. He peered at the options trying to memorize some to bring in the future but was shocked again when something brushed against his leg. Peter bit down on his tongue to keep from yelping and looked down. Wide-eyed he saw your cat rubbing against his leg, purring, and staring intently at the treat shelf Peter had been inspecting.

Peter grinned as he took the hint and opened one of the bags, your cat mewed at him and looped between his ankles a few times. Peter smiled at the small creature and pulled out a handful of the treats. Kneeling, Peter allowed the cat to eat directly from his hand, as it purred. Peter’s heart melted at the feeling of the rough tongue against his palm. He’d never been licked by a cat before.

Peter knew that the transition of you living with him would be easier with your pet and that you’d trust him more if your cat already loved him.

And thus, every night, Peter would be sure to bring treats to keep your cat occupied and work towards ingratiating himself to it. Some nights, while holding you in your deep sleep, the cat would curl up with you both. Peter smiled at the domesticity of it and imagined this is what your lives would be like soon. Peaceful, full of love and closeness…

But things hadn’t gone the way he’d wanted them to with meeting you. You’d been repulsed by him. It hurt.

But but but-

He knew better than to give up. He was made for you. You were made for him. You needed him. He just had to help you see that.

And so, a scheme was hatched.

Your cat was easy enough to catch. It’d learned to trust him and had no issue with him picking it up. However, problems arose once the carrier was brought into the picture. The once docile animal hissed like it had the first time Peter had come by, but this time the sound was accompanied by claws, teeth, and a spine that could twist in any direction.

Peter flinched each time the cat’s defenses broke his skin but he had to keep a straight face, he had to keep going. He had to do this. For both of you.

It was by pure fluke he managed to wrangle the animal into the plastic carrier. A sigh of relief left him as the cat continued to hiss and bat at the side of its containment.

“You’ll be out soon, don’t be so scared,” Peter muttered, trying to keep his tone reassuring.

Peter slipped several treats into the slats, hoping to calm the furry thing. He was disappointed to see there was no change in the cat’s demeanor.

The next obstacle came with where to keep the cat. He knew he had to bring it to his place and try to figure out a room to put it in that it couldn’t escape. He’d have to try not to leave it alone for too long. But he also couldn’t miss out on time watching you. He was already putting you in too much danger with having to drive home and back. Peter grumbled to himself while internally trying to figure out a schedule that would work.

The thought of you being alone without him to watch out for and protect you was almost enough to make him change his mind. But the memory of your face scrunched with confusion and and and- no, he wouldn’t think about it. After this, your eyes would always be filled with love for him.

That was the thought he had to cling to as he drove for 3 hours, your cat yowling and making all manner of terrifying noises the whole trip. It didn’t help that he had to make a pitstop to get all the materials needed for the cat.

A litter box, identical to the one you owned. Food and dishes, the same brand of wet and dry. The store didn’t have your cute plates, so generic ones would have to do. A couple of toys to keep the thing occupied, and one bag of litter for the next week.

Upon his arrival home, Peter was quick to get your whimpering cat inside and hopefully quieted down. He’d hurriedly cleaned out some of the items in his recording room so the cat couldn’t ruin it. He’d seen the way it chewed your cords in the middle of the night.

Once satisfied he ran back out to his van, collecting and bringing all the needed items back into the house. He closed the door of the room and opened the carrier while hastily setting up all the things he’d bought.

Satisfied he turned and was surprised to see the cat still in the carrier, pressed as far against the back as it could be. Peter tsk’d and put a hand in to try and coax it out, only to be bit once again.

Peter shouted and pulled his now bleeding hand out, glaring at the carrier. He stuck the bleeding finger into his mouth. It wouldn’t be helpful to return your cat in bad health. Or for it to be completely traumatized and hating him. It would unravel the whole point of this!

Peter slipped out of the room so he could think clearer. His eyes scanned the area and fell on the door leading to The Shrine. Peter pulled his finger out of his mouth only to bite his cheek and he mulled it over. Yes, taking some of your things off The Shrine and putting them in the other room would help your cat. BUT that also meant things from The Shrine smelling like your cat instead of you.

He closed his eyes and imagined your face upon him bringing back your beloved animal after a week of worrying and how thankful you’d be. What you’d owe him. He’d wave you off of course ‘no-no, really I’m just glad it’s safe now.’ He smiled to himself thinking of how impressed you’d be with him. How awe-struck you'd be with how comfortable your cat was with him.

Peter huffed a final time before deciding to grab ONE shirt from The Shrine for your cat, but that was it!

The choice of which shirt, however, was harder than he’d thought it’d be. Each one smelled like you. Each one had looked so damn cute on you! Each one was special and parting was nearly impossible. Almost as impossible as ignoring the hard-on he’d achieved while sniffing your clothes again.

He couldn’t help it though.

You’d understand.

You were irresistible.

Peter let a hand trail down his chest, eyes closed, imagining it was your fingers. You were rewarding him. He’d been so good, so amazing to return your cat to you. So sweet to demand nothing in return. So...

Peter hissed as his watch alarm blared, bringing him from his fantasy and reminding him he had to leave now if he wanted to walk you home…from a distance.

Peter cursed quietly at the situation and grabbed a shirt at random, trying hard not to think about it as he quickly tossed the fabric into the room with your cat. He’d have to check on it later, he was already running late.

The next few days for you and him were agony.

Peter watched from afar, heartbroken, as you desperately searched for your cat. The first night had been the hardest. He’d arrived just in time to watch you enter your room. He smiled as you went about your usual evening post-shift. You’d come in, remove your clothes (Peter would watch with rapt attention), grab a clean set and a towel before going for a shower.

This was normally the time Peter would let himself in if he was feeling bold, but tonight he knew it wouldn’t be smart. You’d want to look in the closet after all, once you realize your beloved pet was missing.

And notice you did. Peter watched from his spot as you wandered in and out of the room, a confused look on your face (God even that was adorable). You looked under your bed, the closet – as he’d suspected, through your laundry pile, and then to the rest of your apartment. Peter stayed still and listened to your footsteps as much as he could.

But the sound was lost once you started calling out for your cat, shaking the treat bag that usually summoned them. Peter heard the worry in your voice as your calls got more frantic. He slunk along the wall and under your good for nothing roommate’s window to see if he could hear anything else. He was lucky enough to be graced with your voice asking Lucy if she’d seen your pet.

Peter flinched as he heard your worried voice explaining that you couldn’t find them. It was hard to hear you so panicked, but he knew it would be worth it in the end.

But then that whore bitch offered to go out looking with you. Peter growled and clenched his jaw in anger. He hadn’t thought of that. Of that useless drug-addled cunt getting to stay close to you, console you in the middle of the night. That should be HIM.

But but but-

He had to be patient. He knew what he was doing. You were made for him. He was made for you. You would be his.

So, Peter watched. He watched as you and Lucy searched the surrounding area and held himself back from slitting her throat when she put an arm around your shoulder as you cried. He grounded himself in that sound. In your pain that he would be ending soon. He reveled with the knowledge that as soon as you were together, he’d never have to hear you cry like that again.

Once you were finally home it took you ages to fall asleep. Peter seized his chance and curled himself around you. His hand caressed your still damp cheek where he placed a chaste kiss.

“Don’t worry, darling. Everything is going to be alright.” He whispered, burying his face in your hair and inhaling the scent deeply. Time together was short however and Peter slipped out your window before your alarm startled you awake.

Peter again watched. He saw your disgusting coworker hug you as you explained your situation. Peter growled but didn’t move. Soon though, you’d be the one wrapping your arms around him…

Peter watched you spend your break creating a flier to start hanging up during your break. He was impressed by how nicely you made it look! You were so creative! So good with your hands!

Hours later Peter followed as you went into the local Kinkos. After half an hour you came out with a stack of papers and a staple gun.

Peter scowled slightly, that was a lot of extra money for you to spend. He’d make sure to leave some extra money around for you to ‘find’ next time you did laundry as a way to make it up for you…

And so, the week went on.

-

You handed out and hung up all the fliers you’d been able to afford. TK and Lucy had been nice enough to help spread your social media posts, and even your grumpy landlord allowed you to hang up 1 (one) flier on the building’s main entrance. You’d passed out other fliers to the tenants individually too, just to be sure.

If your job had been hard before it was worse now. Your every waking thought was of your missing pet. They weren’t an outdoor cat and you couldn’t imagine how it’d be surviving. It was a little stupid and you doubted it’d be able to hold its own in a hunt let alone a fight.

God what if your cat got into an alleyway brawl? They’d be torn to pieces!

What if they’d eaten some bad plants? What if they were sick??

What if someone took them? And they would never return it to you because they’d fallen in love with it?!!

A million scenarios ran through your head, each worse than the last. You were going crazy and couldn’t focus on anything but looking for your cat. Every time your phone rang you would answer instantly hoping for good news but were continually let down.

Until the call you’d been waiting for finally came. You’d answered the phone quickly as had become your new habit and breathed a short acknowledgement to the person on the other end of the line.

The caller’s voice was shaky and hesitant, taking a moment after your greeting to speak. “H-hi, hi sorry is this uh…is this Y/N?”

The voice was deep and somewhat familiar. You frown thinking this may be someone’s number you didn’t have saved instead of news about your pet.

“I’ve seen your posters around for your missing cat?”

You instantly perk up, waiting for them to continue. The person pauses and the length of the silence almost kills you. Your response is still hopeful as you prompt them to continue with a, “Yes? You found them?”

A chuckle comes from the other end and something about it sends a shiver down your spine. “I think so, at least it looks like the picture…I was in the park when I grabbed it.” The initial hesitancy in their voice seems to dissipate more with each word. Confidence takes over in their tone. “I’m here with your cat now. Can we meet in the parking lot?”

“Yes!” You shout your response. You’d already jumped up from your spot and were quickly putting on your shoes while grabbing your wallet and keys. You were so lucky you weren't working right now! “I’m on my way! I’ll be there in five minutes! Thank you! Thank you so much!” You hang up and burst into a full-on sprint towards the park.

You cross into the parking lot and whip your head around, looking for any sign of who may have your cat. You hear a ‘Hey!’ from your left and turn quickly towards a waving figure.

A very familiar waving figure.

Another shiver ran down your spine; your emotions were in a flurry at the moment. You could see in his arms was your cat. You were relieved, excited, weepy. And yet there was a tug of apprehension as well as fear at recognizing the face of your cat’s savior.

The guy from the bench! From the flower shop! The weirdo who said he was your boyfriend before he actually asked you out.

You’re face to face before you’ve figured out your strategy and choose to focus on the matter at hand; your cat.

Your shoulders relaxed as you laid eyes on what was for sure your missing pet. They’re comfortably curled in the man’s arms and look remarkably relaxed. This is a shock as your cat, while never mean, had not cuddled with anyone but yourself...ever!

Your eyes finally meet, and he smiles at you. He’s blushing as he looks at you, and you can’t help but find it kind of cute in a weird way. You’d been put off the last time he had approached you, but there was something different now. Maybe it was how comfortable your cat looked with him, or how soft his eyes were as he stared at you.

“Oh, it’s you! I’m happy to see you again!” He beams at you for a moment before looking down at the furry bundle in his arms. “Sorry you had to worry about your cat but they seem fine!” He’s cheerful as he says this and readily hands your cat over.

You scoop your cat into your arms quickly; the small thing meows loudly and stands unsteadily on your arms to lick your face. You clutch it tightly to you, sniffling as tears started welling in your eyes. You were so happy they were ok! They seemed to be ok at least.

It was hard to pull them away but you had to do a quick once over. There were no visible marks or cuts, no matted fur, but some dirt and leaf remnants. You quickly brushed those off and went back to burying your face in the soft familiar fur while your cat continued to lick you.

It’d only been a week since your cat had gone missing but the time spent on it, the money, and the energy made it feel like it’d been months. Your cat purred loudly and pawed at you for your undivided attention.

Which is hard to deny, you pet your cat fervently while leaving kisses on its soft little head. You quietly cooed to them as they rubbed their face against you, marking you with their scent. Your tears have stopped and you can’t stop smiling, no matter how badly your cheeks hurt from it.

You don’t look up to see the man’s face. You don’t see the expression of pure adoration, the intensity with which he watches you. His cheeks flush as he imagines pulling you against him to wipe away your tears. To bring his damp fingers to his lips. To sample you at your most vulnerable. Would the tears of joy have a different taste than your tears of sorrow?

Peter had to take a deep breath to steady himself. He was losing focus and losing that could mean losing you.

When you looked up his expression had melted back into a casual smile. You thank him profusely and hold your cat with one arm while reaching for your wallet with your other hand.

His brow furrows as he watches you try to balance your cat and dig in your pockets. “What are you doing?” He asks.

You don’t look up as you respond, “Well, there was a reward and you brought them home so I have to re-”

“No, you don’t!” He all but shouts. You look up in surprise and see his face flush again as he quiets his voice. “What I mean is, you know, what kind of person would I be expecting a reward for doing the right thing?” His words trail off and he looks away as though expecting to be reprimanded.

“O-oh” Now you’re the one blushing. You’d been caught off guard with such an unexpected and intense response. You clear your throat and try to tame your warm face before muttering out, “Well, I mean I have to do something to thank you.” You insist. Your cat continues purring as you bury your fingers in their fur, suddenly feeling nervous about the response you’d get.

The tall stranger hums and closes his eyes, fingers to his chin as though in thought. “Hmm…if you really want to you could…let me take you out to lunch?” His cocky tone returns but a moment later his eyes shoot open and he lifts his hands as though to show he’s got nothing up his sleeves.

“N-not as a date or anything! But as uh…friends?” His tone’s shy again and you can’t help but find it a little endearing seeing him become so flustered. And over you of all people. His hands drop and his face looks a little defeated as he mumbles out; “I-I really do like you and I want to get to know you, but I…I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

You can’t help but smile and glance up at him, your cat is making biscuits against your arm. “I don’t think letting you buy me food counts as a reward…so how about I treat you to coffee sometime?”

Your counteroffer is met with a slack-jawed face for a moment. His lips quickly turn into a wide grin however as your words seem to sink into him. “Yes! Er I mean, yeah, yeah tha-that could work.” His hand rubs the back of his neck as he looks away from you, face burning red.

You chuckle and feel yourself relax more. Maybe your initial nervousness about him was wrong. You take a step closer to get him to look at you again, it only takes a second before he’s at full attention.

“My schedule gets a little crazy. You have my number now so text me aaaand…we’ll figure something out?" Your voice takes on an uncharacteristically flirty tone and it’s rewarded with his blush spreading to his ears and neck.

He nods once and opens his mouth, as if to speak, but closes it and nods a second time. “I would like that.” He whispered, smiling dumbly.

You grin and nod, “It’s a date then.” You don’t wait for him to say anything as you turn to go. You’d been purposeful in your wording and hoped that any ill feelings he may have developed from your coldness when you’d first met had been lost.

But right now, you need to get your cat home, cleaned up, and in for a vet check ASAP. You began walking towards your place but stopped to shoot another smile at the tall stranger who waves as you walk out of eyesight.

Peter lets out a relieved sigh, a dopey smile on his face as he waits another few seconds before following behind his future spouse. He couldn’t wait to let you take him out.

[unstablesophistication]

4/11/22 - Day 7

Today was busy, but good.

I woke up around 9:30 and got coffee right away (still felt hungover from Saturday — just foggy and anxious). I sat at my desk with my coffee and did the tasks I needed to to start the day, checked my email and slack messages, and slowly woke up. After I finished waking up, I took a shower and got ready for the day. I had a meeting at 11 with my Englewood evaluation team. Ate breakfast on the call. Didn’t love the way I looked in my zoom window. I had to do majority of this meeting from my car on my way down to campus. I got to my noon class just a couple of minutes late, but it didn’t matter. Started feeling really tired in my class, but repeating my affirmations actually helped me a lot. Class got out at 2:45 and I met with AS about our GIS final project. I was anxious because this class has been kicking my ass, but she and I were on the same page as far as what we want done for the project and where we are in actually getting it done. That was reassuring. After the meeting I got some lunch at Roti and a coffee from La Colombe. I had to get back to campus quick for my 4pm meeting on the corridor. Thankfully the corridor team has been showing initiative and came to the meeting with actionable ideas. Felt really scattered throughout the day, but especially during this meeting as I hadn’t prepared at all for it and there were three or four things I wanted to have finished. I barely even remembered we were having the meeting. We finished around 5:30 and I had 30 minutes before my next class. I booked my flight for Thursday and texted my mom. My econ dev class was next. Only nine of us showed up, so I had to really participate. I enjoy this class and I’m genuinely glad it’s my concentration area. It combines so many of my interests yet still provides me with career advancement and opportunities to both make money and have a large positive impact on people and communities. During break I noticed M’s hydrangea tattoo and she told me she got it because she had hydrangeas in her front yard growing up. Made me think I might want a lilac tattoo. My parents have three lilac bushes in our front yard. One from my grandparents house, one from their first house, and one they planted 30 years ago when they built our house. It’s perfectly fitting. Class got out at 8:45 and I was out of there. I was just exhausted and really on edge. Irritable and hungry and tired. I called my mom and we chatted on my way home. Walking to my apartment from my garage I realized it was beautiful outside and I was so sad I didn’t get a run in today. In the elevator up to my apartment I had these overwhelming thoughts about bashing my head into the wall or slapping myself. This has happened a couple times this semester. I haven’t self-harmed in probably six years, and I haven’t had to fight the urge either. I’ll talk about this in therapy tomorrow. S had dinner waiting at home which was as wonderful as ever. We chatted a bit and I bitched about my day which was cathartic. After dinner I texted with AD about setting the agenda for our meeting tomorrow. Took a lot in me to get off my bed and sit at my desk to do the work that needed to get done. Worked for another two hours, but still didn’t finish everything I needed to, so I’ll be getting up early to finish it. The next four weeks will be this way, and I’ve accepted it. I did a very good job today of having a positive mindset and not ruminating/analyzing/judging myself today despite it not being perfect. It’s funny how some days it’s so easy and some days it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I really do think so much of it is mindset. When I believe I’m in control I am able to be the person I know I’m meant to be. I just need to keep reminding myself that I already am him, so I can be him whenever I want. Tomorrow is another busy day. I will be disciplined and industrious and show myself again that I am capable of achieving my goals and I am deserving of that success. I hope you know it’s never too late to have the life you want. And every day is an opportunity to change course. Sleep well. xoxo pat

[streamacademe]

Bonus post: Thesis writing.

This post will be a combination of tips and tricks I have received from numerous sources, with the majority coming from Shinton Consulting and STREAM IDC staff. 

The big T

If you’re anything like me, just the word ‘thesis’ can instill a sense of dread in me. However, the best way to deal with a phobia is to face it head on, so let’s do just that, both in a literal and metaphorical sense. 

What a thesis is and what to expect...

Writing a thesis could take anywhere between four weeks to a whole year, and sometimes even longer! The worst thing you can do is compare your progress to that of others; setting a benchmark is one thing, but beating yourself into a panicked pulp because you haven’t written as many chapters as a fellow PhD/EngD won’t do you any good. The best thing you can do is have regular discussions with your supervisors on how long your thesis will take and plan accordingly. 🕖

Your thesis has to be fit for purpose (that is to pass), which means that it has to:

Satisfy the expectations of your institution and industry sponsor (if applicable).

How did you solve the problem that was proposed to you?

Contain material which presents a unified body of work that could reasonably be achieved on the basis of three years’ postgraduate study and research.

Show you have done the work and impress your examiners.

Allow your examiners to confirm that the thesis is an original work, which makes a significant contribution to the field, including material worthy of publication.

Research your examiners and quote them where possible, especially if they’re relevant to your field.

Show adequate knowledge of the field of study and relevant literature. 

Make sure you read all of the key papers in your field. 

What were the gaps in knowledge?

The ‘references’ section is very important as this sets the scene and examiners will read this. BUT, don’t have too many references. 

Demonstrate critical judgement with regard to both the candidate’s work and that of other scholars in the same general field.

Compare approaches and conclusions of others.

Note potential conflicts of interest.

Why did you use this method/approach?

Is your interpretation the only possible explanation?

Be presented in a clear, consistent, concise, and accessible format. 

Make your examiners lives easier. 

Make your viva as pleasant as can be!

Basically, you need to know why your project was important, be able to explain the key work that has already been done in the area and how it relates to your research aim. You should then be able to explain what you have done during your research and how this contributes to your field. 

Note: Keep checking university regulations! Each university should have their own code of practice for supervisors and research students, which will look something like this. 

Picture: A short summary of the above. Source: Tumblr.

Planning and writing

I’m not going to lie to you, it is not going to be easy. I have only just embarked on the journey myself and am already overwhelmed. However, with the right preparation, coping mechanisms in place, and a tremendous amount of self-discipline, we will get through. ☕

Getting started

You need to practice writing. That’s as simple as advice gets. 

You need to practice reading other PhD/EngD theses, mainly to understand what to expect, and to experience what being the audience for a thesis is like. 

Create a thesis plan... 

To start the mammoth task that is thesis writing, it needs to be fully understood and broken down into manageable chunks.

Make a plan (perhaps based on the table of contents of another thesis) of all the sections and chapters in the thesis.

Then break these into sections and keep breaking it down until you are almost at the paragraph level.

Now you can start writing!

Where to start the actual writing?

Start with the most comfortable chapter, such as a previously published paper, a set of results that are straightforward and can be easily explained, methodology/methods, etc. 

Create a storyboard for your thesis and write as if you are telling that story.

If you’re not sure what comes next, refer to previous theses and back to your plan and storyboard. 

Be ready to amend the plan for future chapters as each is completed and you become more aware of what the thesis must contain.

Remember: THINKING IS HARD, WRITING IS EASIER. 💭

Organisation

Develop and maintain a logical filing system.

Improve your back up technique; if it’s not saved in 3+ locations, it is not safely backed up.

Back up every day.

Never overwrite previous documents, just make many versions. It’s not worth the risk of losing a valuable piece of work from a copy and paste error.

Copy any key parts from your lab/note/field books as these can get lost/damaged.

Keep a file/folder of thoughts, references, etc. that you are not including in your thesis; these may be useful to refer back to for ideas and information.

Effective writing

Establish a routine, don’t be distracted, take breaks.

Set clear and realistic goals for each week/day. 

A GANTT chart is very good for this; use it to keep on track and measure progress.

You just gotta start. The hardest part is the beginning.

Don’t stall on details, walk away for a short break to clear your mind.

Get formatting correct from the start (check your code of practice/regulations).

Be consistent with references.

Seek help from the experts - supervisors, postdocs, online sources/training programmes etc.

Create SMART objectives for your writing process:

Specific - e.g. “I will complete chapter 3/collate all diagrams” rather than “I will make good progress”.

Measurable - e.g. “I will write 4 pages today” not “I will try to write as much as I can”.

Achievable - e.g. “I will complete the first draft for my supervisor” not “I will get it perfect before he/she sees it”.

Realistic - e.g. “I will complete the introduction today” not “I will complete a chapter a week”.

Time - it can be useful to set yourself deadlines e.g. tell your supervisor you will hand in a draft on a certain day - that way you are sure to have it done.

Finally, find a balance between being tough with yourself whilst protecting your well-being the best you can. I wrote a post a little while ago that covers managing your mental health during a PhD. Read it here. 

GIF: Anna Kendrick dishing out some top advice. Source: Tumblr.

A few more tips

Supervisor management

Establish what you want to cover in each meeting.

Keep a record of the outcomes and actions from those meetings.

Make your supervisors lives easy; they’re very busy humans.

They are unlikely to judge work unless it is presented completely (i.e. fully written with tables, figures, etc.).

Give them a neat, complete version of a chapter at a time (proof-read thoroughly and spell-checked).

It is in your supervisors interest for you to complete in good time; they are experts and will offer a lot of support.

To summarise, a good thesis:

Has an appreciation of what came before.

Focuses on the interesting and important.

Is well reasoned.

Will change the way people think.

Will teach your supervisors something. 

Has publishable results.

Is logical in presentation, analysis, and arguments.

Is well illustrated with tables, figures, graphs, summary flow charts etc.

It is worth spending a lot of time on these. 

Is written without grammatical and spelling errors.

Has an appreciation of what comes next.

I hope that the above was helpful! There are many resources out there, so get exploring if you need more advice!

I’ll soon be writing a post on how to survive your viva! So, watch this space. ✨

Photo: Make this your phone/desktop/laptop/everything background when you’re writing, I know I will! Source: Tumblr.

[raikangaru]

Take My Leave /3 - Zuko x Reader

Warnings: none

requested one shot

part one part two

“(your name), there’s more flowers again and a letter for you,”Katara yells from the front door, I sigh as I continue to chop the meat for the ramen, this has been going ever since we talked to each other, he’s been sending me flowers every morning. “He’s really showing you his commitment now,”Katara places the bouquet and the letter on the counter top infront of me, I smell the flowers, he hasn’t forgotten them, my favourites, (favourite flower). I quickly wash my hands and drying them before picking up the envelope. I trace over the neatly printed name before ripping it open and pulling out the fancy paper.

My dearest (your name),

I hope you enjoyed the flowers I have been sending you, I know these are your favourites, I could never forget them. It was our first proper date where I had brought them for you and your eyes just lit up with so much happiness that it made my heart go crazy. (Favourite flower), they truly are so beautiful but not compared to you. I know I’ve been stepping out of line in our acquaintanceship but I just want to give you everything and anything to make up for what I’ve done but I know nothing will ever will. Anyways I know you don’t care and should just get to the point but I’ll be throwing a celebration for the partial success of the peace in all nations, you’re invited and so are the others. Please come, you’re a big part of this celebration, you’re the one pushed me to do it, I hope you consider it.

love you always,

Zuko

You make it so hard to move on. I return the letter in it’s envelope and continue on with the lunch,”so what does it say?”Katara eyes the closed letter with curiousity,”hes invited us to a celebrate about an achievement,”I shrug my shoulders as I finish the toppings of the ramen,”also can you call the rest, lunch is ready,”I shoo her away before she can ask more. I set the table and the rest pile in the dining room,”yay (your name)’s ramen,”Aang cheers before digging in right away which earns his a scolding from Katara,”Ahh yes, you make the best ramen,”he liked it too, I politely smiled before eating at my own meal. ,”uh so are you gonna attend the celebration?”the air becomes uncomfortable, it’s still not an easy subject to speak about Zuko, though weeks have passed I have not fully moved on yet, my heart was still shattered, how can you unlove a man who had taken all your firsts. It still hurts to think of him but I needed to refocus my life and to learn to be okay when seeing him or even speaking about him, it’s part of moving forward. “I might,”I muttered silently but was loud enough for them to hear me, they all seemed surprised but tried to hide it, I need this for healing.

***

The large form of Appa lands on the nicely tailored garden of the Fire Nation Palace, a feeling of dread overtakes me and I start regretting my decision on coming here. The familiar grounds remind of so much sweet memories of Zuko and I but also held so much pain, it was bittersweet to be here. Down below, several guards are stationed and the Firelord stands awaiting for us to get down, he was as handsome as ever, he seemed tired and his face lingered of the sadness. I let the rest of the gaang get down before I followed suit, “(your name) you came,”the ember-eyed man doesn’t even try to hide his surprise as pink dusted his cheeks, “uh yeah,”I awkwardly wave. “The maids will escort you to your rooms, I have a meeting so I’ll join all you at the party,”he glances one last time at me before walking inside the palace I once called home.

“Lady (your name), welcome back it’s so good to see you! The palace staff have missed you,”my heart aches as I stare at the maid who took care of me,”I shall escort you to your rooms,”she motions us to follow her, we gather our belongings and enter the palace, passing through the familiar hallways. We pass the door to Zuko’s office and a wave of nausea hits me as I recall the last memory I had, I grit my teeth as I feel tears burn my eyes. A hand grips my forearm and it brings me out of my trance,”are you alright?”Sokka turns me to him in worry, ”yeah, I’m good. Just some dust in my eyes from flying,”I smiled before wiping the tears away and following the maid up ahead. The room that I had entered was not as large as the Firelord and Firelady suite but that’s understandable, a beautiful (colour) coloured robe catches my attention, it was hung on the wardrobe, it had been stitched with entricate designs. “The Firelord had it custom made to fit you, he requests you wear it for tonight’s party,”the maid notices my confusion and explains it for. “Oh, thank you,”I politely say and dismiss the maid, I huff in annoyance, what are you doing Zuko.

I sit on the bed, laying lazily as I stared up the ceiling. I can’t take you back, I’m trying to move on from you but you make it so hard. He’s been showering me with gifts and love letters, he makes this so complicated, I grip my hair pulling on them, I hate how I feel this way. I close my eyes and try to sleep off my confusion but I suddenly jolt up as Mai infects my thoughts, I frown at the thought, where is that dumb bitch she. I haven’t seen her lurking in the palace, now I’m annoyed, does she still stay here as he tries to win me back? I hope fucking not. A soft knock interrupts my thoughts,”come in,”I yell out and the maid peeks her head through,”I can here to prepare you for the celebration my lady,”the all too familiar says as he prepares the bath and get my vanity ready. “Oh no, it’s alright. I can do it myself,”I laugh and wave her off but she insists to help and stay.

“I’m sorry my lady but the Firelord had asked me to assist you,”

“How about the rest?”she shakes her head no, why the special treatment Zuko, I sigh in defeat as I let the maid do her thing. I can’t discern what I’m feeling, it’s giving me a headache, I will just ignore it for now and deal with it when the time comes.

“You are all done, my lady. It was so nice to assist you again,”the maid smiles as she hairsprays my hair for the last time, I glance at myself in the mirror and Iooked really good, I smile at her and she bows before leaving. Another knock sounds in the room and this time it’s Sokka, who cleaned up well, “finally you’re ready. Come on get your ass out here,”he playfully scolds me, I walk over and take his outstretched arm,”but you look really beautiful (your name),”his eyes shining and I can’t help but flush in pink, “jeez don’t be like,”I slap his arm and we both laugh heading to the ballroom. It was no surprise that Fire Nation could throw a party, the ballroom was decorated lavishly with mountains upon mountains of food, reminds me of the days where I used to help in organising event like these. “May I have this dance, pretty lady,”Sokka bows jokingly and I play along accepting his hand as he guides us in a funny dance, embarrassing himself. I scan the room and it’s full of diplomats from other nations and the nobles of the Fire Nation, but no Mair or Zuko.

A hand taps my shoulder,”Can I take the lady for a dance,”his deep voice sends shivers down me, I turn to look at the man and he was as handsome as ever,”I don’t know, can you?”Sokka almost sneers at the Firelord but I squeeze his hand to calm him down,”it’s okay, Sokka. We’re friends now,”I smile but I don’t know if I meant it, Sokka let’s go and Zuko takes my hand. I awakwardly look around,”you look really beautiful tonight, I didn’t expect you to wear it,”he whispers in my ear and my face burns bright red,”uh I didn’t want it to go to waste, since you had it made,”I stammer, feeling flustered at his closeness, I step back a little but he pulls me closer to his body,”Zuko, we’re just friends,”I tell him as I attempt to move away again but he keeps his hand firm on me,”I know but just let me have this, I’ve missed being close to you,”my chest clenches and I grit my teeth I’ve missed it too,”but this is over stepping the line,”I tell him and he hesitantly lets me go, I stare at his eyes and they hold genuine sadness but I had to hold my ground.

“Can I take you for a walk outside?”I nod my head and he leads me out to the gardens, a place that was special to us,”where’s Mai?”I couldn’t help myself but ask, I needed to know for my sanity,”I’ve kicked her out, she’s ruined it all. you mean everything to me,”he looks out ahead of us, I almost felt sorry for him,”no, you’ve ruined it. It was decision at the end of the day,”I say truthfully and flinches, as much as it hurts this was the facts, he can’t fault anyone for what he chose to do. “I guess, I just can’t accept it. I couldn’t grasp that I’ve lost you l,”he sighs in defeat, he stops and turns to me. “Have you thought about us?”his voice shaky, grasping me arms for support,”I do,”I was honest, we needed this, we needed to settle.

“But, I don’t see us going back to each other,”it hurt me to say it but I continue,”a little part of me wants us to get back together Zuko, I just can’t do it. You’ve broken my trust and our relationship’s trust. It’ll take a lot of fixing,”tears fall from my eyes,”I know it will. I’m so sorry but I’m going to try my hardest to earn back your trust and love. Will you ever consider me again?,”he voice broken, I still love you. “No. Maybe in another lifetime,”I shake my head and his face falls but his eyes hold a new fire of determination. “It’s not a never, I won’t stop until my last breath,”he vows to me and I just stare at him, there’s no stopping Zuko if he’s set his heart in something,”we’ll just have to see,”I face the stars again, feeling slightly lighter and a little less sad, Zuko’s face holds a genuine happy and relieved facial expression.

“I’m going to work hard to earn your love and trust back. I will never again take my leave, I love you”

//

m a s t e r l i s t

heyya! wow, i didn’t think i would do a part three, thank you for all the support and comments you’ve given me for this mini series. thank you to @itz-leaf-juice for requesting a third part, i hope you enjoyed it. this would most likely be the last or maybe i can whip up an epilogue but i’m not too sure yet. anyways if you enjoyed it leave a like and if you have any suggestions hmu in my dms, have a great day!

all the love xx

[jimlingss]

The Colour of Our Voices [2]

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

➜ Words: 4.8k

➜ Genres: 98% Fluff, 2% Angst, Slice of Life, Broadway!AU

➜ Summary: He wasn’t supposed to hear. He wasn't supposed to know. But the instant Jimin came into your life and pulled the curtains back, you couldn't hide backstage anymore. You were no longer merely a phantom of the opera.

cr.

There’s something about the spotlight that scares you.   It blinds your vision in a way where you can’t see the audience. They become a faceless crowd. Yet you can feel the weight of their eyes on you. It’s in the spotlight where you can’t see them, but they can see you — where you have all the attention as hordes of strangers wait for you to do something impressive, wait for you to do something that will amaze them.   The thought has your palms clammy.   In a day, you do small things. Nothing no one ever notices. Nothing that ever has any attention. You sweep, sing behind the curtain, go on coffee runs, paint sets, and work the lights. You don’t get to be on stage. But when everyone’s gone for the night and no one’s watching — you try.   Today, the lighting technician fiddled around with the lighting of the auditorium and left for the night, forgetting to switch it off. So you emerge from backstage, tugging yourself free from the curtains, trying to face the spotlight. You comfort your fears by reminding you that no one’s here to scrutinize and criticize you.   “Hello?” Your own voice echoes back to you. The stage might be small, but it resonates the sound of your tone. You clear your throat. “Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye.”   You sing timidly, shutting your eyes and bracing yourself. You try to imagine that you’re actually performing.   “Remember me, once in a while. Please promise me you'll try.” It’s been long since you’ve tried singing in the soprano range, and you wince when your voice cracks. But you keep your throat loose, removing the tension. “When you find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free. If you ever find a moment, spare a thought for m—”   There’s clapping. You’re startled to death, the note turning into a muffled scream as you stumble back. The boy at the top of the stairs in the auditorium stops at once, wide-eyed. “S-sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” His volume is so quiet, you can barely hear. “It was just so beautiful.”   “H-how’d you get in here?” You’re stiff, embarrassed that he caught you singing. You don’t know what your neighbour is doing here. It’s terribly awkward. Befuddling. But you suppose it would be better than the director finding you — he’d just laugh at your sad attempt and tell you to focus on sweeping.   “T-the door was open.” Jimin hitches his thumb over his shoulder, tilting his body. “I guess someone forgot to lock it. I was just stopping by...since this is where I’d love to be one day. I-uh...saw the show a week ago here. I wasn’t following you or anything. Not that I would ever. It was a coincidence. I didn’t mean to intrude, I’m so sorry.”   You nod slowly, swallowing hard. Your footsteps begin to shuffle backwards to go behind the curtain. But you’re halted when he pipes up with a piercing question.   “You’re the phantom, aren’t you?”   His voice resonates all around you, hugging your frame. You can’t avoid or pretend that you didn’t hear.   “What?” His quick-wit makes your blood run cold. You feel your face drain. He doesn’t respond, gazing at you from below the stage with an unreadable expression. You shake your head. “What makes you say that?”   “The fact that you’re here. And I heard you sing in your apartment. The…t-tone quality is the same.” He goes quieter and mumbles, “It’s not hard to put two and two together.”   You’ve been ousted.   You wanted acknowledgment but not in this form. “You can’t tell anyone.”   “I won’t!” He rushes to say at your concern and he lifts his palms. “Promise. I wouldn’t even know who to tell.”   You bob your head. “Thank you.”   You’re sure he has questions. Jimin smiles at you — genuine and sincere — in a way that doesn’t make you tense. So you grab your bag and coat, joining your new neighbor as you lock up and join his side in the bustling metropolis.   “So how’d you start with that gig? It’s really….”   “Pathetic?”   He smiles kindly at you. “I was going to say different.”   “The main actor for the Phantom production can’t sing very well, so they made me sing in his place. But I’m just an intern.”   “And you’re okay with that?” Jimin asks and explains, “You don’t get the credit for it.”   “It’s fine by me,” you say and frantically switch the topic. “Are you getting settled in well?”   “Yeah, it’s not too bad. I have a few more boxes left to unpack. I’m kind of procrastinating on it though. But for the most part, I got the furniture I need.”   “That’s good.” You’re trying your best to muster up small talk, and it’s surprisingly not as difficult as it usually is. You’re used to feeling uncomfortable around strangers, but maybe it helps that Jimin’s friendly, despite being awkward and constantly tripping over his own tongue. “You can let me know if I ever make too much noise or bother you with my singing. I’ll try to practice during the day.”   “Oh, it’s not a problem. Trust me. Your singing is really, really nice.”   Your face feels warm, shy under his attention. “Thanks…”   Jimin swallows hard — he doesn’t want to come on too strong like before, though he decides to spit it out. The question he’s been meaning to ask. “Will you teach me?”   You blink at him. “Pardon?”    “I know it’s a lot to ask,” he says, “I actually came here because it’s my dream to go on Broadway.” His gaze meets with yours, unknowing that the two of you share the same ambition. “I went through my local theater program and performed in community theater, but the director always told me that if I wanted to achieve my dream, I needed to improve my singing. So now I’m here.”   You’re overwhelmed.   It’s hard to say no, especially when you understand where he’s coming from, when you and him share more similarities than initially thought. But you don’t really want to say yes.   “Why don’t you hire a teacher?”   “I want to study from someone who I personally admire, not because they got a certificate to teach. I want someone I have a good connection with. Not that we have a good connection.” He quickly realizes the implication of his words and stumbles again. “Or a bad one. I mean….I just...really love your voice. I don’t even know how to describe it. But it would be an honour if you could teach me. I would try my hardest to learn.”   “I’ve never taught anyone,” you admit. “I don’t know how. And I don’t think I’d be very good.”   “It’s okay.” Jimin smiles into his rounded cheeks. “I’ll take whatever you’ll give me. I don’t mind.”   You shift uncomfortably, not sure what to say. “Ummm...I’ll...think about it…?”   “Okay!” He grins. You start to sweat.   //   You avoid Jimin entirely for the next week.    You book it to the stairwell in the morning, run when you come back home. When you see him and he says ‘hi’, you offer a smile and walk in the opposite direction. You don’t know how you’re going to word your rejection yet, especially with his persistence and determination.   So your surprise is insurmountable when on Monday morning, you see him in the basement of the studio.   “Hey, Y/N!”   “Wh-what are you…”   “Oh, I got hired here as an intern, just like you. It took a lot of persistence, but here I am! I think this is a good place where I can grow before deciding what my next move should be.”   You’re at a loss for words. But there’s no need to muster them up because—   “Interns!” The director shouts, interrupting the conversation. “You’re not here to chat. Go get the orders.”   “Yes, sir!” Jimin salutes, and then grins at you. Unfortunately, you can’t muster up laughter.   Was this guy out for your job or what…? You just don’t understand what could possibly be his ulterior motive. Perhaps he was angry that you hadn’t responded to his request and this is some kind of revenge plan. Maybe it’s a passive aggressive thing and he’s trying to take your job from you.   “Man, do you always have such long orders?”   Jimin takes a tray of drinks from your left hand, grabbing the heavy bag from your right hand. He holds it, alleviating the strain on your wrist without needing to be asked, and you mumble a word of gratitude.   Once the pair of you make it back, he helps you hand them out with a smile and positive attitude that’s overwhelming as it is infectious. He leaves the crew members smiling, actresses and actors with their brows raised in pleasant surprise.    “Thank you.” — “Thanks!” — “What’s your name again?”   He gleams. “I’m Park Jimin.”    “Intern! What’s this?!” The director suddenly approaches and sighs. You wince, preparing yourself when you can already see that expression on his face. “I said three vanilla lattes and four chai tea lattes. You got the order wrong!”   You bow your head. “S—”   But the apology never comes out.   You're interjected by the boy beside you. “But we didn’t get the order wrong.”    He frowns and you’re alarmed that he has the audacity to talk back to the director. But Jimin doesn’t seem intimidated and pulls out a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “You said and I quote, ten americanos, six hot and four iced, four vanilla lattes, three chai teas, six espressos, seven cappuccinos, and a green tea. I wrote it down. See?”   Jimin’s cheeks are pink, proud that he was so diligent.   The director opens his mouth, closes it, and clears his throat. “Well alright then—”   “Also, the company card didn’t work. It kept on getting denied, so we had to split the costs between ourselves. Here’s the receipt so you can reimburse us.” Jimin ends his spiel by flashing a bright smile.   You blink twice. Jimin was going to get fired right in front of you. On his first day too.   You’re more terrified than anything. But to your surprise, the director merely clears his throat and pulls out something from his wallet. He slaps a wad of cash at Jimin and then walks away in complete silence.   The director doesn’t apologize — Jimin laughs once he realizes.   “What?” He grins at you when he finds your incredulous expression, unable to stop his smile. “Why are you looking at me like that?”   “N-No reason…” You divert your eyes elsewhere.   It’s unbelievable. He’s amazing.   //   You’re working tirelessly, arms aching, and you still have half the studio left to sweep.   But then you notice Jimin humming and wearing a smile, carrying a broom too. He stops in front of you. “I already finished the rest, so after this section, we’re done.”   “O-oh.” It didn’t occur to you that with Jimin around, you’d be done twice as fast. “Thanks.”   “No problem. We’re in this together, right?”   “Right….”   //   “What’s this?”   You’re in the middle of repainting some cardboard, palms covered in splotches of blue, but you’ve paused as Jimin comes over with a cool water bottle, pressing it to the back of your hand to relieve your cramps.   “It’s water, silly. You weren’t looking good — I mean you always look good, wait, no, what I mean is you looked dehydrated. Can’t get sick, can you?”   “Thanks.”   Jimin smiles, and you suppose that maybe he’s not out for your job…   Otherwise, why would he be helping you so much? Unless this was his tactic to lower your guard. Or perhaps it’s more plausible that he’s trying to butter you up so you can teach him.   But you don’t get that either. Why go so far? You’re not even that great at singing.   //   While you munch on a ham sandwich, you consider that you’ve never liked ham much. You only eat it because it’s on sale so often, and you can’t really afford anything else…   Then your inner monologue is stopped as someone suddenly plops down across from you at the table. Jimin is humming as he pulls out his stack of tupperware, noodles and cut fruit, cantaloupes and strawberries, and a metal fork to use.   “Did you do anything fun last night?”   “Just...practiced and watched some T.V.”   “Oh? Are there any good shows on? I can never follow through with any series — I end up forgetting that I’m even watching them and then I never finish.”   Usually, you eat lunch by yourself in silence. You’ve never had someone keep you company before. Somehow, it’s not unpleasant. “Do you want some strawberries, Y/N?”   He pushes his tupperware towards you while your eyes flicker up to him. “Is it...okay?”   “Yeah, go ahead. By all means. I have a ton at home. I always end up with too much produce in my fridge anyways — it’s like I’m running my own grocery store.”   You grab one that’s been sliced meticulously. Jimin watches your reaction as you chew and you make a sound at the back of your throat. “It’s really good.”   A smile spreads into his cheeks. “I’ll make sure to bring some more for tomorrow then. You should try my noodles. It’s my mom’s recipe! I can’t say I make it half as good as she does, but it’s not bad.”   You’re too scared to call Jimin a friend. You don’t know if he’ll stick around long enough to forge a platonic relationship with you — and you’d rather not be disappointed. But you think this is what a friend is called.   //   It’s not only you that Jimin’s affected. Many others have taken an interest in him, particularly the females. One of them being Taeyeon.   “Jimin, right?”   “That’s me.” He points to himself proudly. “What do you need?”   She laughs, a cute sound bubbling from her throat, and she hits his arm gently. “Nothing, at least nothing yet. I just wanted to say hi since I’ve seen you around. When did you start this job?”   His lips are pouty as he thinks. “Around two weeks ago?”   “Oh, wow. I can’t believe I haven’t had a proper conversation with you then. We should grab din—”   At that exact moment, Jimin catches you walking by. He hadn’t seen you all day ever since the director sent you to the second floor to print a stack of scripts. He accidentally ignores everything Taeyeon’s asking him. “Oh, sorry I have to go.”   He dismisses the Broadway actress to flock to your side. She watches you offer him a small smile and she rolls her eyes, strutting off to ignore the sting of obvious rejection.   //   The routine naturally falls into place. It’s like clockwork day in and day out.    Jimin waits for you outside of his apartment every morning, leaning on the wall and smiling when you exit. He welcomes you warmly and joins you on the way to work, keeping you company while standing at the train platform. He helps you complete your tasks — sweeping, coffee runs, running errands on the director’s whims, painting sets, managing the lights. Jimin eats lunch with you as well, eagerly sharing his snacks and fruits. And when it’s time to clock out, he comes alongside.   On especially exhausting evenings, sleepiness gets the better of you on the train and Jimin notices when your head begins to bob. He always nudges you gently, taps his shoulder, and says—   “If you want, to use my shoulder, it’s okay to borrow it. I won’t mind, promise.”   You smile, shaking your head and rubbing your eyes. “No, it’s okay.”   He eases your stress and workload. Sometimes by simply accompanying you and other times, he stares — making you nervous as if there’s something on your face — and then he asks, “Are you tired?”   “Just a little.”   “Here, let me do it.”   Maybe it’s easy to read your face, or he knows you well enough now that he can tell your energy is low. But he aids and supports you. Even the director yells less nowadays at the improved work results and Jimin’s optimism that frequently renders him speechless.   You wonder if Jimin’s an angel who descended from the Heavens to make your life better, and you find yourself staring at him often too.   //   The curtains draw.   It’s typical for you to peek out and watch Seokjin recite his lines. His acting is mesmerizing as he dominates the attention, taking the stage for himself. But when the music begins in your headphones, you focus again and hold the mic close to your mouth, beginning to sing.   “You have come here in pursuit of your deepest urge. In pursuit of that wish which till now has been silent. Silent.”    Your voice draws out of you, deep in your chest and it warps into a lower baritone pitch. It emits from an expensive speaker taped into Seokjin’s clothes and he mouths the words perfectly like they’re his own.    “I have brought you. That our passions may fuse and merge. In your mind you've already succumbed to me. Dropped all defenses, completely succumbed to me.”   What’s even better about singing at such a safe pitch is that you don’t have to worry about your voice cracking against your will. The lower tone is safe, comfortable…   “Now you are here with me, no second thoughts. You've decided, decided….” Your timbre vibrates throughout your body. The violins echo your voice, following your tone. It’s a fun piece, thrilling, and a smile spreads into your face at the crescendo. “Past the point of no return. No backward glances….”   But it’s hard to sing this time around when you can feel someone’s piercing stare, their gaze heavy on your body. You open your eyes and it connects to Jimin’s. He’s the only one watching you in the entire auditorium, when it’s your voice ringing through the dazzled audience. Behind the curtain as it billows in the wind, his irises are pinned on yours as if he’s bewitched.   His focus makes you sweaty, palms clammy, but you sing anyhow.    When it’s over, he shakes his head slowly like he can’t believe it and a grin plasters into his face. Jimin hasn’t witnessed someone sing so passionately. “That…..was so beautiful.”   You’re embarrassed at his excessive praise, smiling softly. “Thank you.”   “No, seriously,” Jimin emphasizes. “That was breathtaking.”   The director suddenly barks at you, breaking the intimate moment and you go running. But Jimin’s gaze follows your form, excited for the shows coming up. He wants to take every chance to see you sing again.   The show eventually comes to a close and everyone holds hands to bow to the audience. You peek out from backstage to watch the curtains being brought down.    “Good job everyone as usual! Taeyeon, sweetheart, you’re delightful as usual.” Director Kang continues with his praise as the actresses playing minor roles flock to Taeyeon’s side, parading to the dressing rooms. “Kim Seokjin! I don’t know how we would pull this off without you!”   “You wouldn’t,” he grins and the other man bellows with laughter.   You don’t know why you haven’t given up inside. Why you haven’t accepted that this was the way it was going to be. But all you wish is for him to tell you that you’ve done a good job — maybe hand you an agent’s card and give you the referral you’ve wanted….   You wait as they come closer.   Your breath is held. Maybe today, you did a good enough job that he’ll acknowledge you.   But then the director walks past you like you’re a plant. Wallpape—   “Let’s be honest here, they wouldn’t be able to do it without you,” Jimin scoffs with his arms crossed, suddenly beside you.   “Jimin!” You call out in surprise, and he sighs, shaking his head.   “They’re missing out on the real star. Here.” He passes you a broomstick, one in his other hand, and he smiles mischievously. “Let’s clean up quickly and then go out and eat.”   “Eat?”   “I’ll treat you to dinner, anything you want. I saved up from this job, y’know. And the director always takes out the actors and actresses after a show. They should technically take you out too, but I’ll do the honours instead.”   You almost want to cry. But you bob your head instead, and it’s the fastest you’ve ever swept.   //   Jimin’s in the middle of stuffing his cheeks with steamed dumplings. His chopsticks are in the air as he makes grand gestures and angrily rants, “I just don’t understand. Why would they get someone like him if he can’t sing?”   “Well, he’s handsome.”   “Yeah, but so what? There’s plenty of handsome people out in the world.”   But Seokjin’s really handsome. Though you’re not in a place to defend his honour. Plus, Seokjin’s only ever acknowledged you when you accidentally gave him the wrong coffee order. “The director thinks that the only reason why people even go is because of Seokjin and Taeyeon.”   “What do you mean?”   “Well, we don’t get very good reviews. Taeyeon can’t sing either. She’s still better than Jin, but her songs are turned down a few pitches.”   “Yeah.” He frowns. “I noticed.”   “Phantom of the Opera should be really popular since it’s in the mainstream, and a lot of people know about it. We should be selling out every show.” You dip your fried dumpling into the sauce and throw it into your mouth. “But we’re not. We have terrible funding and management and the terrible reviews make advertising useless.” You list out the thousands of problems, sharing the industry secrets over the table. “I don’t know how they divide their finances, but we never make a profit.”   “Never?”   You shake your head. “Not enough people come. I don’t know why the show goes on year round, and it has really sporadic dates too. We’ve never been on tour either because of the bad funding.”   “Huh.”   “We’re in the basement for a reason.” You point out and you can physically see the enlightenment on his face. It all makes sense. “Most people don’t know there’s even a basement. The elevator doesn’t go down there. We have to take the stairs.”   You continue, “So naturally, the director believes that the only reason people even go to the show is because of Seokjin and Taeyeon. They have gorgeous faces, don’t you think so?”   “I guess….but is that really enough to keep the show running?”   You shrug. “Don’t underestimate people’s superficiality.”   “Broadway is supposed to be about talent.”   “Not always.” You hate to shoot down his idealistic views of what it’s like to be here, especially when you were once wide-eyed and hopeful as well. But it’s the cold, hard truth. You should be happy to even have a job — it’s a privilege. “No matter what, Director Kang has to keep them on board. Even Raoul’s role is replaceable. But if he loses Seokjin and Taeyeon, then it’s all over. He has nothing left working for him.”   Jimin rolls his tongue in his cheek. He goes quiet and eats until he finishes another plate of four and puts it on top of the stack that’s been building on the small, square table. “Why are you still there? They treat you badly,” he points out all the facts like you had, “you have to be Seokjin’s voice and you don’t get acknowledged for it all.”   “Well I can’t be acknowledged. It’s supposed to be a secret.”   Not many people know — not the audience, not the critics. The crew members don’t care enough to spread rumours since no one pays much mind to the Phantom production in the first place. But it still shouldn't be exposed out there that the main actor has a ghost singer.   It might be the last nail in the coffin to shut down the whole show.   You don’t want to be held responsible for such a thing.   Jimin sighs. “Seokjin’s face is useless if he can’t sing properly.”   “Seokjin’s is a good actor. He makes a good Phantom.”   “But that defeats the purpose if he can’t sing. He shouldn’t be on Broadway,” Jimin criticizes. “The whole production team owes you — you’re the reason that the show can even keep running.”   You smile, appreciating the sentiment but… “They could easily replace me if they wanted to.”   People can replace voices. They can’t replace a well-known face.   Though Jimin seems to adamantly disagree and even bitterly scoffs. “No, they can’t. There’s not a voice like yours out there. You’re amazing. Even if they did replace you, you’d probably be accepted into a production with a role on stage right away.”   He eats another dumpling, not paying much mind to your reaction. He says it so casually like it’s the blatant truth and you feel your face go warm. You try your best not to take it too much to heart. After all, Jimin’s probably buttering you up to get what he wants.   You mull over the thought and it expands, putting pressure inside your head. The silence suffocates you, and you lower your gaze away from the brunette boy who’s rather talented in sweet-talking.   “I don’t know how to teach you how to sing, so...you shouldn’t be so nice to me, Jimin….I don’t want to waste your time any more than I already have…I appreciate it….but your time is better spent elsewhere. Not on me.”   “What?” His eyes are rounded, cheeks full. He swallows it all down painfully in one go. Jimin takes the fragments of your sentences and puts two and two together. “Wait. You think I’m doing this because I’m trying to bribe you?!”   He’s offended and you begin to retract. “Well….”   “I’m insulted.” Jimin puts down his chopsticks, but isn’t too angered or upset. He softens when he sees your expression twist into distress at the misunderstanding and turns playful to lessen the strain in the air. “You really think I would go this far to try to convince you? I’ll be honest, I became an intern here because you were one and I thought I could persuade you, but I gave up after the second day. You already told me no, so I was planning on looking for someone else.”   “Oh.”   “I wouldn’t help you out with so many things if I didn’t actually like you, Y/N,” Jimin explains with a gentle smile, “I wouldn’t be making coffee runs nine in the morning, painting candle stands, coming with you to and from work, and eat lunch with you all to try to get something different out of it. I’m just not that sort of person.”   “Sorry. I didn’t….”   “And here I thought we were becoming friends.”   “We are,” you shout instinctively. People in the restaurant turn and he laughs at your embarrassment. The confrontation makes you quickly realize that he is in fact genuine and you were rude enough to be suspicious of his intentions. You’ve wrongfully accused him, slandering his name in your mind. You don’t even know where to begin with the apologies. But Jimin doesn’t take them, he merely shrugs and gets across the point he’s been trying to make.   “I just think you deserve some recognition, Y/N. It’s not too much for you to ask.”   You nod. The words sink in. They’re not heavy on the shoulders — they make you feel light, like you’re soaring through the sky. It’s hard not to get emotional, to prevent the thick lump in your throat, to stop your eyes from stinging in the middle of the cozy restaurant.   It’s all you’ve wanted to hear, yet he said it so simply, syllables slipping off his tongue as his truths. He means it, and you allow the sincerity to reach you instead of deflecting.   “I’m….a strict teacher.” You exhale a shaky breath, meeting his gaze. “My aunt taught me how to sing and she was strict, so that’s the only way I know how to teach. If you’ll...still take me as your teacher.”   He smiles, his eyes crinkling. It gives him a boyish look as his teeth peeks out, cheeks becoming even rounder, his brunette hair covering his forehead. You don’t make mention of the soy sauce stain on the corner of his plump lips. “As long as you don’t think I’m using our friendship. I wouldn’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you.”   You giggle and Jimin decides he likes the sound of that. “Don’t worry, I won’t. You should be more concerned about if you’ll be able to handle my teaching. You might not even want to be my friend anymore after we’re done.”   “You can’t run me off that easily, Miss,” Jimin assures and points his chopsticks at you. “I’ll always want to be your friend.”

[rainythefox]

Nightfall (CH.12)

Synopsis: Pre-Resident Evil 1, slight-AU/Canon Divergence. Claire Redfield comes home to visit her  brother Chris for the holidays but gets caught up in a dangerous game of  cat and mouse with Albert Wesker, the Captain of STARS, after stumbling  upon dark secrets. She can’t call the law; Wesker is the law, and she  can’t tell Chris. She is trapped…Claire/Wesker & Slight  Chris/Jill. Rated M for eventual smut, language, violence, adult content.

AO3 Link

Chapter 12: Complicit

Claire couldn’t believe this was happening. After two days of “late night babysitting” preparing for this…mission, she was about to actually undergo it. She was kinda freaking out deep down, but her Redfield nerve and composure never broke a sweat on the outside.

She lingered, eyes firmly set on the double glass doors and the welcoming signs, faint traces of snow dancing around her. Would she be able to do this?

“Losing your nerve already? Pity. Thought you redheads had more spunk than this...”

Wesker’s velvety voice crept through the tiny headphone hidden in her right ear. It wasn’t the only thing he attached to her. There was a video camera, the smallest and most advanced she had ever seen, and some kind of tracker, like he needed another way to keep her under his thumb. All to “help” her during this important task at hand that he so generously gave to her. And by generously, there were implications if she didn’t go through with this, that Chris would have a bad “accident”.

“The only nerve I’m about to lose is my last one with you,” she muttered, careful to not talk too loud as a few people slipped by her to enter the building, eager to get out of the dark evening's cold. “I’m ready when you are.”

Wesker’s low laugh through the earpiece made her shiver more than the icy wind blowing the snowflakes around. “I’m always ready, Claire. You should know that by now.”

“Whatever.” Ignoring the dark implications behind his words.

“I have the utmost faith in you, my dear. Do not disappoint me. You know the consequences.”

The younger Redfield took a deep breath. This was it. She would do this…she had to, for Chris.

She headed up the concrete steps and entered Raccoon University, bypassing the positive and welcoming signs advertising “Exclusive Open House for Umbrella’s Future Leaders!”

Claire immediately took notice of all the college students her age and even some older people here. The large, fancy lobby was decorated up for the occasion. There were balloons, finger foods and drinks, more signs and several tables for information on Umbrella programs, internships, scholarships, and grants. Distracted by all the dress up and people, Claire paused to get her bearings, only for someone to bump into her.

“Oh…sorry,” a girl around her age mumbled, wearing a green jacket and looking of Japanese descent. She smiled apologetically and readjusted her backpack strap. Claire noticed right away she seemed a little spacey, but didn’t think much on it.

“All good,” she replied and allowed the girl to pass. Claire watched her walk over to the corner by some of the many leather lounge chairs and tables, sitting with a girl in a yellow hoodie with a long braid and glasses.

“Hello everyone, and welcome to Umbrella’s Open House!” The voice immediately drew Claire’s attention and she turned towards the front desk of the lobby, where three men stood in suits. She immediately recognized them from the research and planning she had gone through for the past two days in order to do this assignment. The man speaking was Greg Mueller, a professor here at the university that also worked for Umbrella. On his right stood another professor and Umbrella researcher, Simon Lowery. The man on the left was well-known Umbrella researcher and medical doctor, Nathanial Bard.

“We hope you are enjoying the delicious food and beverages catered to us by our local favorite restaurant, Grill 13,” Mueller continued. “And of course, staying warm from good ‘ol RC snow. Now, before we begin with tonight’s exciting tour of our historical university, introductions are in order! I’m Dr. Greg Mueller, head of the Research and Lab department of the University and I teach several courses. With me is my colleague and good friend, Dr. Simon Lowery. He’s essential to my team here and makes sure that everything runs smoothly and you have him to thank for some amazing programs to help you on your journey to a brighter future here. Last, but certainly not least, our special guest tonight is the revered Dr. Nathanial Bard of Spencer Memorial Hospital, whose achievements are nothing short of ground-breaking, and he will help you get started on which of Umbrella’s programs will serve you best. I’m going to hand the mic to Simon now.”

Lowery looked to be the younger of the three and wasn’t shy when he took the mic from his colleague. “Thanks Greg. Hello everyone! You know, this is the third year Greg and I have helmed this open house in search of bright pupils with a future at Umbrella Corporation. We have fun every year, and it’s always great meeting every single one of you. Now take your time, visit, mingle, get to know each other, make yourself at home and help yourselves to all this delicious food - I personally recommend the smoked sausages, they’re my favorite! - and please check out each booth we have set up for more information on what programs Umbrella has to offer for you, and we will go into depth later on after the tour. Dr. Bard, would you like to say anything?”

“Of course,” he said and snatched the mic with a wide, fake grin. “There’s something for everyone here. You absolutely will not leave empty handed. Umbrella cares about each and every one of your futures, and we are here to help. It’s my personal mission to make sure every individual will get the help and information they need to ensure a prosperous future. You have my word! Welcome to Umbrella’s open house!”

The three men put up the microphone and split up to join the chatting groups of visitors. Claire kept her cool, getting herself a cup of spiced cider and checking out the information booths just like everyone else.

She could certainly understand why Wesker was using her in this infiltration. There was no doubt she blended right in with the crowd of college ready young adults. She could tell by overhearing bits of conversations that many were already students here at the university while others were newcomers.

The hardest part was waiting. She couldn't get to the next step of the plan if they didn’t go on the tour around the university. So the younger Redfield put on a charming smile and worked the crowd, pretending to be one of them, fishing for information as she waited.

"Such a charmer you are, dear heart. But be careful of whom you charm. Some snakes are immune to the flute."

"Like you?" Claire whispered.

"I'm impervious to the charms of nearly everyone. Most people are just so predictable and boring. Thankfully, you are not ‘most people’...”

Is he really flirting with me over the radio or am I just hearing things? Claire sighed. As if she didn’t have enough on her plate at the moment!

“Oh! Tell her to sneak some shrimp into Nate’s food. I wanna see the dickhole swell up like a balloon and choke.”

She stood corrected, instantly, after William talked smack on the other side. But his big mouth didn’t get to say anything else before a loud yelp rang her eardrum and all became quiet again.

Claire shook her head, but soon a tall figure slipped around from behind her and greeted her with a smile that was more lecherous than cordial.

“Good evening! Dr. Nathanial Bard, how are you, Miss?”

He extended his hand. Claire panicked for a moment because she never came up with a fake identity even after Wesker’s insistence upon it. He had said the chances of her being approached were slim, but not impossible.

“Do not give him your real name. You’ll want to drop conversation with him as quickly and as inconspicuously as possible.”

As Bard frowned, the name finally hit her and Claire eased a fake smile that looked natural. “Elza. Elza Walker. Nice to meet you, Dr. Bard.” She took his hand and shook it, internally gagging.

His eyebrows rose high. “That is such a pretty and unique name. You from Raccoon City?”

“No, sir. In town visiting family. I was thinking about transferring to Raccoon University and a friend told me about the open house. Figured I’d give it a try and see.”

She could feel his eyes skim over her, not near as clandestine as Wesker was, and, dare she admit, not near as tantalizing as him either. Claire squeezed the cup of hot spiced cider in her hand, restraining herself from splashing it in his face.

Bard’s smile widened. “Well, I think you’re in luck, my dear!”

The younger Redfield didn’t realize how much she secretly liked Wesker’s pet names for her until it came from someone else’s tongue. She internally shook her head. Now was not the time to start having the warm fuzzies for that asshole. Claire could hardly believe she was even thinking in this direction. Had to be the stress of going undercover while quite literally having Wesker breathe down her neck...yes, that was it. It had to be.

Get it together!

“There’s a program for everyone! Umbrella Corporation wants you to succeed! Grants, scholarships! Umbrella will even pay for everything for you to transfer. There is no shortage of bursaries here. What kind of field are you looking to get into?”

Bard leaned in closer, suave and friendly. It would’ve fooled anyone else, but not Claire. This man was digging for something. She could only hope that he was being a lecher and wasn’t seeing through to her true motives.

“You’re stalling. Get out of there.”

Wesker sounded annoyed, but she couldn’t determine why. It wasn’t as though she had messed up the mission...yet.

“You know, I’m still on the fence,” Claire made up, slowly backing away.

Bard chuckled. “One of those, huh? No worries. When I was your age, I didn’t have a clue either. But do not fret, Miss Walker, my colleagues and I are here to help. There’s no need to decide right now. After the tour, we can sit down and talk it over. We can still find something right for you even if you haven’t decided on a major.”

“Oh, the tour...right,” Claire faked ditzyness. “I better go to the little girl’s room before it starts!”

She beelined for the restrooms just to the side of the information center in the lobby, even as the doctor told her directions. She sat her cup down on a table as she passed by, glancing over her shoulder. She spotted Dr. Bard motioning her way to the younger Dr. Lowery, the two men speaking quietly.

There were a few other girls in the restroom. One student flushed a toilet and came out, washing her hands and leaving quietly. A couple fixed their makeup while gossiping. Since Claire didn’t need to go, and wasn’t about to while Wesker was able to see everything, she pretended to check her face over too. She fluffed her hair, left down in long waves for the occasion.

“Worried about looking good enough for me, Claire? Don’t be. You still have work to do, and it doesn’t matter to me what your hair looks like while doing it. Just do it.” Wesker mocked. The biting humor in his admonishment was hard to miss.

“Geez, you really need to be nicer if you want to get laid, buddy!” William muttered in the distance. “OW! Fuck…”

Despite the wheeze of pain and cursing, distant chuckling sieved through the earbud. But Claire ignored it, instead nearly bristling and turned on the tap to wash her hands as the girls left back out to the lobby.

“I am doing it, asshole. Even with lecherous old men hitting on me, which wasn’t a part of the plan, by the way! No need to be so pushy. If you want me to go under cover here and make it believable, then let me handle it. It’ll get done, stop riding my ass!”

There was a moment of silence before William snorted loudly in the back, laughing. “That’s what she said!” He cackled loudly in amusement. “Man, I like her more and more every day...the girl has balls.”

Wesker's laughter was quieter, colder. “If you insist, dear heart. I’m just offering my humble assistance to make things go over smoothly. Just get the job done and we’re fine.”

Humble, my ass! Claire thought sourly.

The Redfield sister heard them announcing the tour. She quickly dried her hands and exited the restroom, melding herself into the back of the group. This would be the slowest process, she knew, but kept her wits about her even as she only half-listened to the doctors as they rattled off trivia and history over the university.

They took the upper floors first, pointing out classrooms that covered the liberal arts and the professors who taught them. Dr. Mueller told them the history of the iconic bell tower.

“Jesus, Greg, you’re putting me to sleep over here, put some life into it!” William huffed. “You seriously make me want to shoot myself.”

At least Lowery had a bit more spunk and spirit as he raved about the college’s sports teams, particularly the football team, the Raccoon Sharks. Which Claire never understood why they chose “sharks” and not, well, “raccoons” for obvious reasons. But hey, at least the sharks were colored up like raccoons.

They returned to the first floor and continued the tour. There was the fancy cafeteria, the huge library, and more classrooms. The doctors talked about more of the programs and classes, semester activities, and the following herd asked questions in return.

They left the main establishment to take a walkway to a neighboring building. It was still lightly snowing, but the walkway was covered. It was also illuminated by soft, yellow lights. Claire could hear the Circular River rushing nearby, as the institution was built along its path.

This was the building she had been waiting on. It was essentially its own facility, running classrooms, laboratories, and other departments, doubling as a school and a research center for Umbrella.

Claire used to not think anything of it, even admired how much Umbrella helped out the city between their programs at the university and hospitals, as well as their charities and large scale employment. Now, the deeper she went down this rabbit hole being dragged by Wesker’s leash, she started to wonder what was really going on.

Men like Albert Wesker, William Birkin, and Sergei Vladimir were not the type to work for “good guys”. Even the three doctors Mueller, Lowery, and Bard were all hiding something, that much was certainly clear.

So, what was Umbrella hiding? What were they hiding that required the Captain of the elite S.T.A.R.S. force and the Police Chief to control the city? That required them to murder people once they knew too much? And what about that top-secret underground Umbrella facility that William reigned over?

Claire had a flashback of Wesker pulling the trigger on Finley’s head, the blood spraying across fresh snow; how his fate was completely covered up with no one to question or oppose it. She recalled watching the news just the other day reporting on how his body was discovered and ruled a suicide in his car.

What happened to Mr. Finley back there will never be brought to light. He died in a car crash, you see. Committed suicide, or simply disappeared. His fate is whatever I decide to make it. You and your brother are no different, same with all the others who thought they could expose me. Wesker’s voice echoed in the back of her head from that fateful day.

Maybe Umbrella were still the good guys. Maybe Wesker, Irons, William, and Sergei were the infestation of corruption, growing and taking control, like weeds strangling a fruit tree from its roots. Yeah, surely that was it.

But deep down, she didn’t believe herself.

Once they were inside Dr. Mueller’s state-of-the-art laboratory that connected to a classroom laboratory through two automatic sliding doors, the professor slash researcher began boasting with a lot more pride and spirit than his lecture on the university’s trivia earlier. He showed off some equipment in his place between Lowery and Bard.

Again, Claire only half-listened, her eyes scanning the area for her objective.

“In short, there is no other research department like this in the country. My laboratory is vital to Umbrella’s key studies on disease prevention and cures.”

“C’mon Greg, you’re a glorified babysitter with a sandbox! Mine’s way better!” William hollered, sounding like his mouth was full. Coffee break between two sessions of unethical lab work, she supposed. Just another day at the office, between blackmailing and killing people. Nothing to write home about.

Wesker sighed. “If you wish to do a dick measuring contest with someone, at least choose some actual competition.”

“My dick’s bigger than all three of theirs. I got pics to prove it. Don’t ask. I have my sources. Courtesy from their parties with the senator. I will nail those dick pics to their corpses when we’re done with them too.”

And yet I wondered how these two are best friends…silly me.

“Claire, as soon as they leave the laboratory, the power failure will engage. Be ready. The laboratory’s backup power will switch on, but the security systems will remain down.”

“Got it.”

Still, William’s words hung her up. There was nothing stated in all the planning that anyone would be killed...but what if she was setting it up for these three men to die? No, she specifically remembered Wesker wanting to gain control over them. They were useless to him dead. But that didn’t mean their value to him didn’t have an expiration date…

Claire shook out the thoughts and trailed after the rest of the group once more. The double doors to the neighboring classroom laboratory slid open and the mass of people passed through, the doctors taking turns to address their followers. Some of the crowd whispered amongst themselves, but they were mostly quiet.

As the last few went through the doorway, Claire purposely slowed herself down to where the door slid shut inches from her. The power instantly went out. Total darkness and stillness swallowed her for only a moment before the laboratory’s backup power switched on. But just as planned, the double doors were locked, glowing red above.

She barely heard the mumblings of surprise on the other side before turning and speeding towards the main computer in the back, located near a single locked electronic door with a sign that stated, “Authorized personnel only!”

Claire reached inside her parka pocket and pulled out the computer disk. The same, unmarked one she got the other day when Wesker was using her to fetch from his informants. She pushed it into the drive, fingers itching to get this over with.

“You have just under four minutes, Miss Redfield. Don’t drop the ball now.”

She ignored him and typed away, putting in the passwords and entries she had memorized from the planning process of this infiltration.

The spyware program uploaded onto the mainframe in a timely fashion. What took a bit longer was it copying information back onto the disk, whatever that was. While it processed, the younger Redfield moved to a nearby set of drawers.

“You sure it’s the bottom one?”

“That is what my source informed me.”

“They better be right.”

Claire retrieved her lockpick from her pants pocket, the one gifted to her from Jill, the same one she used to break into Wesker’s house. She carefully worked the lock, listening, feeling, remaining focused. It finally gave and she pulled the drawer open. Inside was what she was looking for.

"Looks like the "master of unlocking" taught you well. Shocker. Guess you stumbling into my affairs paid off in the end, in more than one way... "

The sealed yellow envelope inside looked harmless enough. But the label printed on it in red ink chilled her to the bone. Requested research for THANATOS PROJECT.

The name sounded ominous to her, and she couldn’t help the shiver running down her spine. She had a bad feeling about this.

Claire retrieved it from the drawer, looking it over. It was heavy, full of papers and what felt like maybe a USB drive. There was a white sticker in the bottom right hand corner that read, “Paid in full. - AR.”

Those initials had to be Aaron Roth. If only Wesker wasn’t spying on her and she had the time...she would’ve ripped into the envelope to see what they were all hiding.

She slid the drawer shut and returned to the computer. The disk was ready to be removed. She took it back and returned it to her pocket. Taking a step back, she looked it over once more. Everything was in place and didn’t look disturbed.

“Finished in a timely fashion. I’m impressed. You’re certainly talented in more ways than one. I’m almost tempted to hire you again, dear heart. I’m sure I could find some use for you...”

“You didn’t hire me, asshole, you blackmailed me.”

“Semantics. What matters is a satisfying outcome...wouldn’t you agree?” Wesker purred in her ear.

Oh God. Was it just her or was there a double entendre somewhere in there? Sweat broke out on Claire’s forehead even though she had managed to keep her cool until now, but Wesker making ambiguous remarks was getting to her. Nervously (and not just a little bit annoyed with herself), she discreetly wiped her sweaty bangs from her forehead.

Let’s get this over with, she admonished herself. The sooner her dealings with the corrupt STARS Captain were over, the better.

The college student stuffed the envelope inside her jacket and under her arm since it was too big to put in a pocket. She hurried over to the double doors, knowing time was almost up. If it all went according to plan, the doctors and their party would still be in the dark locked in the next room. The backup power in this area would be cut off and the doors would open just long enough to allow her back with the others before all power returned.

When the lights went out, Claire barely heard the doors skim apart, courtesy of whoever was controlling the university’s power system. She stepped over the threshold into the classroom, moving further in, careful not to run into anything. This particular laboratory for regular classes had large windows on the opposite side, but it was so dark outside, it barely helped light anything.

But soon it didn’t matter. The power returned in an instant, back to normal, as though it had never been touched. Claire wasn’t far from the group and quietly joined them as everyone got their bearings, blinking to adjust to the sudden bright lights. Startled voices talked over each other.

“Everyone, everyone, settle down. Everything is fine!” Mueller announced. “Just a small power failure. Let’s return to the lobby and I will have someone look into it!”

Relieved, Claire followed along as Mueller and Bard escorted everyone out of the classroom while Lowery remained behind by the door checking on the visitors. That was normal and understandable enough until his brown eyes pierced her. Watchful. Suspicious. She kept her composure, offering him an innocent smile as she slipped by him and out the door. He didn’t say anything, but Claire felt his eyes on her back until she caught up with the others, heart slightly racing.

Surely, he wasn’t onto her. There could be no way.

"Think he's onto me," Claire whispered as voices boomed through the massive hallways, the herd migrating back to the lobby.

"Irrelevant," Wesker answered. "As soon as you return to the lobby, make your leave. Without notice, preferably."

"Don't worry, Claire. Lowery's a nerdy bag of stress and paranoia. Nothing to fear there," William added.

"Like you?" Wesker mocked.

"You know, I’m half-tempted to empty one of my petri dishes into your coffee next time you’re not looking. Don’t push your luck, jerk. Annette always says you wouldn’t like me angry. And you know how Anne’s always right. Even she says so!"

Amused chuckling was all he got as a reply from Wesker.

Claire rolled her eyes at their continuous banter. God, she swore these two were like old marrieds.

Once they all filed into the lobby, most visitors either took a seat or went and got more food. She soon noticed a couple heading for the front doors, sliding on their coats, and took advantage, inconspicuously joining them.

"Hold on, please, you three," Bard hollered, making the trio pause and look. "Before you leave, let us make sure everyone is accounted for from the power outage. A small safety regulation we must abide by."

Claire inwardly groaned and moved away from the doors with the others. Bard and Mueller finished speaking together in a hushed huddle and went opposite ways.

"What are you doing?" Wesker asked.

"You said to leave without being noticed. Did you not hear him?"

"Then find another way out. Do it quickly."

Claire ground her jaw but didn't answer. She looked around, thinking of a way she could escape. More university workers were showing up now from other hallways, probably disturbed by the power failure. Lowery had yet to return.

She watched Dr. Bard set a plate of food down on an empty table and left it to go introduce himself to another pretty face, using the same charm he had used on her.

Apparently, the prick was only interested in helping students he found attractive. The girl obviously looked uncomfortable but smiled to be nice, and that didn't sit well with her one bit.

But since kicking him where it counted would cause a scene, the younger Redfield soon found herself scheming up something better.

Casually, she went over to the buffet of refreshments, picking up a plate and grabbing a few random foods. She sat down at a table close to Bard's plate, eyes scanning. People were talking or reading while they ate. She de-shelled one cold shrimp and broke it up into chunks.

She had only a tiny window of opportunity here, and it all determined on the selections of food on his plate. Pulse racing but outwardly composed, she discreetly took a stroll over to his plate. From afar she analyzed what was on it, and what would best conceal her ticket to freedom.

“HOLY SHIT, SHE’S GONNA DO IT! I LOVE THIS GIRL!” William squealed in delight.

She winced, retracting the urge to rub her eardrum. Her deft hands quickly stuffed the pieces of shrimp into a club sandwich triangle. It was pressed back into place with the toothpick and then she was off, glancing around to make sure she hadn’t been caught. Everything went on as normal. Claire got some more spiced cider and returned to her seat to wait.

“Don’t tell Anne, but If I wasn’t already married...” William softly laughed in her ear. She could tell he was trying to whisper, but the eccentric, mad scientist didn’t realize he was louder than he thought. “She’s a keeper, Al. Don’t screw this up!”

Screw what up? Keep me...for what exactly? Stop giving him any ideas, William! God, this is really getting out of hand...

Claire facepalmed as she started to feel hot under her collar and blamed the thrill of committing a heist under everybody’s noses for it.

The Redfield sister didn’t have much time to dwell on it before she spotted Dr. Lowery emerging into the lobby. She instinctively made herself smaller as he marched across the room, going straight to Dr. Mueller.

He pulled the older man aside, whispering urgently. Claire started sweating in serious now. Especially when their eyes scanned the full lobby until Lowery pointed her out.

“Shit,” she hissed under her breath. She pretended not to notice them, her nerves beginning to rattle a little. She reluctantly called for help. “Wesker…”

“What is it?” Claire wasn’t sure if it was just her hearing things, but he actually sounded a little concerned.

And then she was saved. Not by the bell but by commotion. People shouted and pointed, some moving in closer to watch or help as an individual choked. Dr. Bard was turning red, red like the shellfish he had just unknowingly consumed. Mueller raced across the lobby for him, Lowery right behind him after giving her one glance.

Claire took her chance. She sprinted for the doors and was out, taking the concrete steps two at a time and bolting across the front courtyard through the snow flurries with only the college ground lights to guide her.

When she made it through the opened gates and took a sharp turn on the sidewalk, she collided straight into another person and nearly lost her footing. She dropped the enveloped stashed inside her coat.

“Sorry, Miss. I should’ve been watching where I was going,” the young man said with a charming smile, stooping to pick up the envelope for her.

He slightly flinched when he picked it up and noticed the label, as though he recognized it. But it was gone in an instant and he presented it to her with a warm smile and twinkling green eyes.

“What the hell is he doing there?!” William demanded.

Wesker ignored him and promptly spoke to Claire. “Take it and leave, do not engage in conversation with him, Claire. That is an order.”

“Leave?! This may be our only opportunity to kill the bastard!”

“Are you okay, Miss? Do you need help?” the man asked.

She silently obeyed Wesker, snatching the yellow envelope back and hurrying past him. The redhead didn’t look over her shoulder, but she could feel the man watching her until she turned down the next block.

Panting, the icy wind cutting her throat, she finally slowed to a walk, heading for her next destination. Traffic rolled by her, beams of headlights stretching down the streets and making the falling snowflakes sparkle. There weren’t many other pedestrians out walking the streets, but she did spot many inside buildings shopping or having a coffee.

“Who was that?” she asked.

“Aaron Roth,” Wesker answered nonchalantly. “He’s not someone you should involve yourself with.”

“Oh, but I should involve myself with you?”

Wesker chuckled mockingly. “Wishful thinking, Claire? I’m flattered. Then again, I’ve been known to have that effect on redheads...must be genetic.”

Claire bit her tongue. She pulled her parka hood over her head, bundling up from the cold. After passing by the empty elementary school, she cut across the parking lot to the bus barn next door.

Her ride would arrive here to pick her up. Unfortunately, Claire wouldn’t be going home just yet. She had to meet Wesker in person first. She just hoped that Chris wasn’t getting worried...or worse, suspicious.

The bus barn was a large depot and mechanic shop for all the schools’ buses. Rows and rows of parked long, yellow buses slept quietly. It was dreary and quiet, with snow falling lightly all around. A person could easily get spooked by themselves here, as though they were trapped amongst sleeping giants.

“There’s been a change in plans,” Wesker announced. “My main liaison will not be picking you up. Instead the collaborator that worked the power outages at the university will. He should be there shortly.”

“Okay,” Claire mumbled through chattering teeth.

“I’m going to sign off for now, dear heart. Well done. See you soon.”

She was relieved for the silence. Claire waited with her hands in her pockets, back against a cold bus, shivering, watching the snowflakes swirl around. The lights of Raccoon City at night were beautiful to look at, some of the skyscrapers in the distance were lit up in Christmas colors. The younger Redfield was so lost in observing the serene scenery around her that she did not hear the pair of feet that had slowly walked closer to her.

"Found you!"

The voice startled her and she pushed away from the bus, whirling to confront them. Shocked, she didn't say anything as Lowery cautiously approached, encased in shadow from a looming bus nearby, and sounding a little out of breath.

"The hell?" Claire hissed. "What do you want?" She reached for her knife in her pocket.

As Lowery stepped into the light, speckles of snow in his brown hair, she noticed the gun pointed at her chest.

“Lucky shot!” Chris whined.

Jill laughed, moving around the pool table to take her next move. “Suck it up, buttercup! You’re about to lose to a girl!”

“It’s these beers. They threw me off my groove.”

Jack’s Bar was crowded tonight. The bar was full and so were most of the tables. Music played on the radio, but it could barely be heard from all the talking and laughter bouncing around. The bar-and-grill was decorated up with Christmas decor and lights, looking quite festive and bright.

His partner made the winning shot that cost him this game of pool. She won the last time they were here too.

“Whoo!” Jill exclaimed, arms shooting in the air and grinning at him. “You know what that means, partner!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Chris grumbled, fishing for his wallet. He looked around him and then spotted the familiar face he was seeking. “Hey, Cindy! C’mere!”

The favorite waitress of J’s came over, an empty tray under her arm. The young, pretty blonde smiled and giggled. “Let me guess, lose again, Chris?”

“Hey, I’ve won before, okay?!”

“A Mai Tai then?”

“Yeah,” Chris answered, giving her a $10 bill. “Here’s for another plus tip...because I know Miss Sharpshooter here’s gonna want seconds.”

“Why wouldn’t I when your pouty ass is buying?” Jill snickered.

They made faces at each other, and then Chris spotted the rest of their party arriving. “Oh, bring the drinks to our usual table, the guys are finally here.”

Cindy nodded. “Will do. You want your usual?”

“Yeah, add it to my tab.”

Chris and Jill joined the others at their usual table. The STARS teams came here often to wind down and have fun, different mixes of teammates each time from differing schedules. Hell, even the Captains came once in a while.

Wesker was a pro at pool, too. And Jill had been on his team a few times. She said he taught her tricks...something about math and trajectory or some shit. Who does that? Didn’t people just point and shoot at the balls with their cue sticks?

The gang tonight consisted of Chris, Jill, Barry, Joseph, Forest, and Richard. Tagging along with Barry was Robert Kendo, which wasn’t uncommon. They ordered their food and drinks, a perfect view of the hockey game playing on the hanging box TV. While waiting, the group of friends and colleagues joked and small-talked.

“So, Kendo, how’s that new assault shotgun model coming along?” Richard asked.

Kendo cracked a grin as he took a swig of beer. “You ask me that every damn time you see me, Rich. Look, I’ll personally call ya when I make a breakthrough, alright?”

“You better! I’m excited!”

“Coulda fooled me!”

Cindy and her friend and co-worker soon brought their food and drinks. Chris could never remember the young lad’s name...Bill? No...Will. It made him think of William Birkin again...the mysterious man that Claire was babysitting for. The past couple of nights she had stayed out late babysitting, and it seemed as though tonight would be the same. He just hoped that’s what she was really doing…

“Cindy, babe, could you please turn the station? I cannot stand these damn Christmas tunes anymore!” Forest complained.

“Aw, c’mon, Forest. Get into the holiday spirit!” Cindy exclaimed. “Don’t be a grinch!”

“Don’t insult the Grinch like that,” Joseph joked.

Cindy gave him a look. “Don’t be a meanie, Joe.”

“Eh, he’s just jealous of my hair, Cin. That’s why he fucking hides his under that stupid bandana all the time.”

“You wish.”

Cindy casually shook her head, used to their antics, and left them to their meals. The gang discussed their plans for the upcoming holiday, after work of course. Most of the STARS team had family here to celebrate with. If Chris remembered correctly, only he (other than Claire), Jill, and Captain Wesker didn’t have any family.

Soon, they got on the topic of gifts.

“I finally found Claire’s Christmas gift. She’s gonna love it. I picked it up the other day. She’ll never find it!”

Jill laughed beside him. “That’s because it’s at my house!”

“Your house is the safest place! She’s a sneaky little brat and will find it!”

“Speaking of which,” Barry interrupted, dipping a couple fries into his ketchup. “I figured you wouldn’t be coming tonight because Claire’s in town. She make you come out?”

“Probably,” Richard snorted. “I’d need a break from him too.”

“Nah, she’s been babysitting for someone. Last few days she’s had to babysit well into the night.”

Joseph snickered. “That’s what I’d say too if I was messing around with a guy I didn’t want my big brother to know about.”

Chris shot his colleague a glare that almost dropped him dead. Joseph stuffed his mouth with a big bite of hamburger.

Kendo cleared his throat, pushing his empty beer bottle up to the middle of the table. "Oh! That reminds me, Chris. Did Claire get into trouble?”

“Huh? No, why?”

“I was on the other side of town yesterday evening picking up Emma’s medicine and I saw her with the Captain. He opened his car door for her and she got in.”

“Which Captain? Enrico? Or Wesker?” Richard asked curiously.

“Yeah, cuz that determines how much trouble she must’ve been in,” Forest teased.

Kendo half-rolled his eyes, sighing. “THE Captain, ya idiots. Wesker. I saw her with Wesker. She got into his car and they drove off.”

“See? I told you there was a guy she didn’t want you to know about!” Joseph laughed. “They must’ve hit it off after she went down to the station to give him a piece of her mind. Bet now she’s giving him a piece of something better!” Barry slugged him hard in the arm. “Ow!”

This was new information to Chris. He sat there, dumbfounded, at a loss for words as his mind processed exactly what Robert had said. “She didn’t get in trouble...that I know of. Wesker would’ve called me, for sure.”

Barry frowned. “For sure…But then why else would Claire be with him?”

“Chris, buddy, I love you, but let’s be honest here, they’re probably doing the nasty.”

“Jesus, Forest,” Jill growled, facepalming. “Don’t be starting those kinds of rumors.”

“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire, s’all I’m sayin’.”

Chris glared at Forest. “Between you and Joseph, I’m gonna shove those beer bottles so far up your backdoor you two won’t be walking straight. Ever. Again.”

“Sorry,” Kendo interrupted. “I didn’t mean to get everyone so riled up. I was just curious. Looked harmless to me.”

“Dumb and Dumber here like to start shit,” Barry explained, glaring at Joseph and Forest. “I’m sure it was harmless. It is Wesker, after all. Maybe she just needed a ride.”

“Or maybe he offered her one,” Jill added. “He’s quite the gentleman.”

“Gentleman?!” Forest scoffed. “The guy’s a hard ass and a dick to us most of the time!”

“I mean, yeah, he kinda has to be. He’s our boss. But really, he isn’t that bad to most of us. You two just get on his nerves all the time,” Richard admitted.

“Hey, who’s side are you on, Aiken?”

“I’m j-just s-stating the facts!”

“Alright, alright, knock it off, all of you,” Jill ordered in her “mom voice”.

“It’s all harmless joking,” Joseph defended. “And Chris knows it, right bud? I mean, how often do I joke what if Wesker is actually a sociopathic supervillain on a quest for power? Of course he isn’t...but I sometimes wonder!”

Chris shook his head. Joseph and Forest were frustrating at times with their nonstop jokes, but he knew it was never mean-spirited. They all ribbed each other all the time; it was their clique’s twisted way of showing they cared about each other.

“You and your weird conspiracies, Joe...But really, let’s just drop the subject, okay? I don’t care why Claire was with Wesker,” he lied. “Because I know it doesn’t mean anything. Got it?”

“Got it,” they all agreed.

“Good. Now can we all please get along, drink some beer, and talk about something pleasant? Like the weather or something?”

They all looked to the front of the bar, where the windows were. Snow fell just outside, looking to have picked up since they arrived at the bar.

“Oh yeah, pleasant RC snow...love it,” Jill quipped dryly.

Chris scowled, rubbing the back of his neck. He had even more worries on his mind now, thanks to their earlier discussion. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t push them away.

His overreacting, protective brotherly instincts had continued to gnaw at him, making him wonder about the integrity of this “babysitting job”. Claire had never given him a reason to doubt her, but still he worried.

There was something going on with Claire. She was definitely hiding something, and his innate detective instincts kept putting together the clues, all starting over a week ago. Some kind of worry or panic she hid from that jog on the mountain hiking trails, her quiet, wandering thoughts, some questionable explanations, the injuries she hid on her hand and ankle...and then this Wiliam Birkin came out of nowhere with a babysitting job for her. “A friend of a friend.”

And now she was with Wesker on the other side of town when she was supposed to be babysitting? That set off a whole wave of bad thoughts and red flags in his mind.

No, he told himself firmly. It’s Wesker. There has to be a logical explanation! I bet it’s all harmless and I’m worried for nothing.

Captain Wesker may have been a hard ass at times, and he and Chris bumped heads occasionally, but they respected each other and got along great most of the time. He was one of the best men he knew. A damn good leader and boss, too. After his big screw up in the Air Force, not many were willing to give Chris a chance, and Wesker did.

There was absolutely no reason to worry about Claire being with him. If anything, it should have relieved him...knowing his little sister was in good hands. Wesker would take care of her.

But deep down inside, something small, some miniscule but insistent doubt ate at him. A growing part of him was questioning whether everything was as innocent as it seemed...

[devolympian]

Argo chapter 2

Rubble shot out under my body as I was slammed against the ground, a loud groan of pain escaping my lips in the process. However, I wasn’t on the ground for long as I soon found myself flung into the air once more, Clairs strong legs shooting me into the sky as if I were a soccer ball she had kicked.

As I hung in the air I was soon met with a flurry of kicks, each one hurting more than the last all culminating in the heel of her boot being brought down upon my chest and slamming me into the ground again.

My health seemed to plummet from this, but I managed to stagger to my feet and prepared for one final counter attack.

With all of my remaining strength I cupped my hands together and, through pure will power, conjured bright blue flames which compressed into a large fireball like object in my palms.

I followed Clair with my eyes as she fell to the ground, and as soon as her feet touched the dirt under us, I lunged forward and jutted my arms out sending the flames barreling towards her.

Clairabell simply leaped over it and landed in front of me.

Red and white lights flashed as she gathered energy into her strong, muscular legs and launched an endless onslaught of kicks so fast that they blurred together into bright flashes, tearing space and time asunder. And every kick made direct contact with my body.

With one final explosive heel to my jaw, my body was flown backwards landing in an unmoving heap on the ground. 

My life had emptied.

“Yes” Clairabell cheered as the screen displayed her name in conformation of her victory, “bow to me mortal!”

“Dang it” I whimpered, watching as her character stood proudly over mine, “why do I suck at street fighter?”

“Well you keep choosing Ryu, that’s a start.”

“You always choose Chun Li though.

“Yeah cause she’s awesome and fun to- shit!”

As we were talking the scene in the game had changed to that of a large gray map with small portraits of the characters in front of it. With a flash an orange square appeared and begane jumping randomly from one portrait to another with loud beeps accompanying it.

With one last beep like noise the square landed on an image of a man with long, braided, brown hair and wearing a white mask.

“Oh” I exclaimed, “it’s Vega.”

“Easy” Clair stated as she prepared for the match, “I’ll have this done in like 10 seconds.”

It was over in thirty with Vega tearing through Chun Li with his clawed hands and superior speed.

Clairabell collapsed into a disappointed husk before the arcade machine, her eyes becoming watery as the words “You lose” flashed brightly before her.

“No, my sexy kick girl! How could he do this to her!?”

“Well he did kill her dad so. . . or, wait, was that M bison?”

As I contemplated this important question a 10 popped up on the screen and slowly started counting down.

“Shit, shit, Skye give me a quarter!”

I nodded ok and reached into my skirt pockets, only to find them empty other than a piece of lint and my ID.

“I’m out.”

“Already?”

“Dude, we’ve been here for an hour.”

“We have?!”

Unable to pay for another chance Clairabell and I watched as the numbers dropped until it hit zero and, in bright red colors, “Game Over” appeared on the screen before us.

“Damnit.”

“Sorry Clair.”

With annoyed huff Clair reached into her shorts and pulled her wallet out.

“Don’t worry Skee skee, I won’t let this masked back up dancer wannabe get the best of me. I’ll just wip out my secret weapon, get some quarters, and then smash his stupid face in!”

“I-it’s just a game though.”

A confident smile grew onto Clairabells face as she unleashed her hidden power, one which I could never hope to achieve even if I tried my hardest.

A platinum credit card with no credit limit, and endless spending so long as you pay the bill on time.

Clairs pink lips curled into an evil smirk and I could tell that she was thinking solely about spending every scent she could to humiliate a fictitious gut who had wronged her and the fictitious girl who has been one of video game crushes since she was like 13. 

“Vengeance shall be mine!”

“Y-yeah” I stuttered out, “but won’t it take awhile before you fight Vega, the set up is r-random after all.”

Clair stopped smiling and gave me a disapproving look.

“. . . Skye, please, please just let me have this.”

“O-okay, s-s-sorry.”

“To the ATM” Clair cheered, almost instantly getting her pep back.

With her heels clicking against the arcade floor, Clair confidently struts over to the nearest ATM, her dark brown hair flowing behind her and her swaying hips drawing the gaze of the people she passed by.

I, meanwhile, did my best not to look like a stupid weirdo by scurrying next to her and hoped I was insignifigant enough to be completly off anybodys raidar so that they don’t notice me.

Once we reached the blue and white tower containing an untold amount of treasure (but, if you must know it was most likely between 100,000 and 200,000 USD) Clair raised her hand, placed the card between the scanner built into the ATMs face, swung down, put in a few numbers, and. . . was met with a buzzing noise and the words declined appearing onto the screen.

We stood in silence for a bit until Clair tried again, and was instantly met with the same results.

“Y-you did p-pay your credit bill, right?”

“I have to pay for a credit card?!”

Now, soundly defeated by our inability to acquire a hefty sum of money, or at the very least five bucks, Clairabell and I sulked back to our table where the ice in our drinks had melted and watered them down into tasteless puddles of dark sludge, perfectly symbolizing our utter destruction done to us by Vega from street fighter and a lack of change in either of our wallets.

With a heavy sigh Clair slumped forward against the table resting her chest on the wooden surface and began playing with the coasters, moving them around and making them spin.

“Sorry Clair” I said again, hoping it might make her feel a little better, “w-when I get paid we’ll come back. I-it’ll be a month though, sorry.”

Clair sunk lower into the table from my statement, a defeated groan escaping her mouth yet again.

“Stupid ATM” Clair stated while holding a coaster between the tip of her pointer finger and the table and spinning it, “making me look stupid. I’m made of skin you’re just plastic, so who’s stupid now?! Right Skee skee?”

“Oh, um.” Thinking as quickly as I could, I did my best to come up with an answer that would raise Clairs spirit, and make me feel like less of a bad friend for not being able to help. “W-well, th-the ATM is an inanimate object with no ability to create memories or any other neuron processing abilities, so I guess you’re by far more intelligent then it.”

I smiled after finishing my statement, while mentally patting myself on the back. There was no way that didn’t make her happy.

Clairabell just looked at me with confusion. “The hell are Neurons?”

“O-oh, they’re a cell in your brain which transmits nerve impulses when specific actions are triggered. Memories are the result of specific neurons being activated when the brain recognizes certain stimuli such as patterns and such.” “. . .” “. . .”

“Ok beautiful, I’m gonna pretend what you said makes perfect sense to me.”

“Sorry.”

I felt my face get slightly red as Clair giggled at my expense. Well, she was feeling better at the very least.

“Oh” she said, jumping up and pulling her phone out of her pocket, “I’ll call daddy!”

I watched as Clairs red tipped finger tapped on her phone with the speed of a carnivorous animal attacking the first meal it had eaten in days and the hungry look in her eyes showing the clear determination she had to devour what she wanted in one swift bite. 

Dang, I’m hungry.

She placed the phone to her ear and we waited speechlessly for an answer on the other end.

“Hi daddy” Clair practically shouted, a smile spread far across her face. However, her face full of joy soon became one of shock and confusion. “What!?”

“W-what’s wrong” I stuttered, as a feeling of dread set into my empty stomach.

“Daddy that’s not fair, you can’t- What!? You can’t be serious, it is not that big of a deal!”

“Clairabell?”

“¡Oh, Dios mío, papi, estás jodidamente loco! Sí, apuesto a que si fuera Essy, ¡lo dejarías pasar!”

And now she’s speaking Spanish. By this point I was fully aware that I was no longer relevant to this conversation.

“What? What!?”

With a loud humph Clair turned to me, an angry scowl on her face.

“Skee skee I’m going outside for a minute.”

“Wh- w-wait. Clair!”

Before I was able to protest my sudden abandonment Clair was already heading for the entrance of the arcade, yelling angrily into her phone as she did so.

Within seconds of her departure my whole body began to shake and my eyes began involuntarily darting around the building, unsure where my site should be landing or if I should even be looking at anything at all.

Beads of sweat began falling down my forehead and arms and my throat became suddenly dry as I became painfully aware of how warm this place had become.

Without really thinking I forced my watered down soda between my lips and drank the odd tasting liquid into my body.

As I set the now empty glass back onto the table my thoughts finally caught up to me and questions began flowing into my mind faster than they could be answered.

How many people are here? 

Are they going to talk to me? 

Should I talk to them?

Is it strange that I’m here alone?

Is it wrong to be here alone?

Where were my friends?

How much are the chicken strips here?

Should I scrounge around for quarters and play the games?

Is it okay for me to play the games without my friends around?

If I tried starting a conversation how long would it be until people yelled at me to leave?

How much are the chicken strips here?!

My brain began to ache from trying to answer the never ending onslaught of questions that I began attacking myself with.

Why did Clair have to take her call outside and leave me in this social battle zone where I am left completely defenseless with my subpar social skills and basically useless communicative abilities. 

If Zee were here this feeling would most likely have been lessened and. . . come to think of it, where the heck was Zee?

I guess he’d messaged Clair a little after we’d gotten to the arcade, saying he would be a little late, but he’s normally not this late.

The idea that something bad had happened, or that Zee was in some sort of trouble added itself to my growing number of concerns.

I wish I had a book to read.

I wish I was plotting a masterly crafted revenge scheme with Edmond Dantes, or hunting for lost treasures alongside Jim Hawkins, or fighting alongside the knights of the round table for the glory of king Arthur, or learning how to try new things like green eggs and ham with Sam I am.

My fingers began tapping against the table without me telling them too, almost as if they were typing my thoughts onto an invisible keyboard so that I could read how pathetic I actually was.

No, wait. This isn’t right!

I desperately tried to swallow the knot that had formed in my throat and forced my fingers away from the table before they could make deeper scratches into it.

This was a blessing in disguise. An opportunity that the gods have presented to me so that I might better myself socially and become a proper adult which will benefit society at large.

Clenching my hands into fist, I stood up in my stall, turned towards the violent army of people laid before me, mentally readied my ammunition with various puns on super mario bros and tetris that were always great conversation starters (so I’ve heard), set my foot into the battle zone, and. . . immediately sat back down, my body shaking from my feet to my pony tail.

Hey, I made it a step! That’s a win right?

With a heavy sigh, I just continued sitting in my booth, waiting for Clairabell to return.

That’s when my eyes wandered upwards to the TVs above the bar and a gasp escaped my lips as a sense of awe took over my heart.

Plastered onto the three screens was the same image of a reporter standing in front of a city in North America that was covered in dust and smoke. She spoke with a composed and calm voice but her body was shaking all over and her arms would gesture wildly as she explained the situation.

Unfortunately, the sound was muted by the noises in the arcade but the camera shaking wildly and the cause of the destruction rising from the ground a few moments later made me certain of what was happening.

Not too far from the reporter and her camera crew a creature had emerged, dirt tumbling down its long serpentine body and the sun glistening off its dark red skin. As it sung its upper half towards the camera I saw that its face was nothing more than a large gaping hole lined with crooked teeth that spun into a dark, empty void. 

An Olgoi-Khorkhoi, a Mongolian death worm, had invaded the city and destroyed it out of predatory instinct.

It was so cool!

I mean, not the city destroying part, that is awful for all parties involved, but the death worm itself is probably one of the most amazing animals on the planet!

First off, it actually isn’t even a worm, it is a dragon species which evolved into their current form after their specific species was forced to migrate to desert areas over millions of years ago. Second off It is a dragon!

And that’s not even the coolest part

As they adapted to their environment the worms, or wyrms as we can probably call them, developed thermosensitive scales which adjusted their body temperature according to how hot or cold it was keeping them safe from the deserts rapidly changing temperatures. Their scales would even change color depending on the temperature, red meaning cold and blue meaning warm. Also, they developed giant mouths and the ability to freaking eat anything! 

Isn’t that awesome!?

Granted, this does make them rather dangerous when they wander into cities or towns and are extremely frustrating to get rid of. However, the fact that they live in deserts far underground and tend to stay in one place unless mating makes this an extremely rare event.

But when they do pop up, an even more amazing creature follows.

Just as the worm prepared to dive back into the ground a barrage of golden arrows rained down onto it.

The arrows didn’t seem to bother it but the large number of explosions that followed did as every arrow erupted into a cloud of smoke and flames.

Panicked, the giant creature began tossing around in every direction and two long tentacles appeared out of its mouth in a desperate attempt to catch its attacker only to find that the scales covering its body began to change from their current red color to a dark blue as a giant pillar of fire erupted around it.

As the flames cleared the now blue worm was shown wrapped in chains held by a man with bat-like wings, large horns sprouting from his head, and a tail ending in a sharp barb.

Props to the camera crew by the way, these shots are amazing. So clear too.

The winged man struggled against the worm as it thrashed around desperate to escape its bondage, with intense struggle causing more damage to the city and sending the man crashing into multiple buildings as he held onto his prey.

Moments after this struggle began another man, this one with a long orange ponytail and a large golden bow stepped into the camera shot.

He looked like a college athlete having a large build, broad shoulders, and noticeable muscles. He wasn’t as large or muscular as Zee but he still looked exactly as I dreamed these people would. People who traveled the world, discovering new lands, battling monsters and great evils, aided by any god they wanted to help them.

He looked like an adventurer. 

Holding the bow he held up a pillar of blinding light formed around him only to vanish moments later as millions of golden arrows hovered in the air around the orange haired adventurer.

Taking aim at the worm, he pulled the string of his bow back, released it, and caused the arrows to go flying towards the monster, exploding on contact just like they did last time.

The adventurer then promptly turned towards the camera with a smug smile and a cocky look in his golden eyes. He started saying something to the reporter and her crew, which I couldn’t hear cause bar noises, only to be interrupted by his partner slamming into him.

The camera followed the two as they rolled into the ground and kept filming them as they began, I assume by the angry faces, yelling and arguing with each other.

They stopped soon however as something caught their attention.

The crew turned back towards the worm as a large lump began running up its body and a pillar of dirt, and chunks of the city erupted out of their mouths.

Interesting factoid about Mongolian death worms, they are capable of turning their stomachs inside out and can actually regurgitate whatever they’ve eaten like a super soaker blasting people in the face. It is awesome to look at but most likely not a fun experience when you’re in the direct vicinity when it happens.

The death worm began slowly turning towards the crew and adventures as it fired its pre eaten food with deadly force.

My heart beat filled my ears as I clutched my seat in anticipation for what would happen, hoping with everything that the heroes would pull out one final secret move to combat the attack.

Just then, a black flash shot through the air striking the death worm just as it was about to hit the crew and causing it to fall forward into the city.

I felt my eyes go wide at the images before me and my heart began to pound even louder as I waited for the worm to get back up and face its new challenger.

But, like all epics, this one has a rather disappointing ending.

The worm vanished. Like, straight up, just disappeared.

I eyed the TV with utter confusion and a feeling of disbelief at what had happened.

Then, another black flash shot down directly in front of the camera crew and standing there, with his award winning goofball smile, spiky black hair, and electric blue eyes was. . .

“Zee!”

I shot up out of my seat, my glasses nearly flying off my face when I did so, and watched as my friend stood in front of the wrecked city looking like a superhero. . . before sitting back down and hoping nobody had noticed my outburst.

This was probably what he meant when he said work and, to be honest, it was really stupid of me to be surprised by this. 

I’ve seen videos of him locked in combat with creatures from around the world and even have some stuff that he brought me from those countries. But still, it was kind of surprising to see him on live TV.

How he defeated the worm when the other two adventurers were struggling to even damage it was also something that grabbed my curiosity and refused to let go.

So, naturally I continued to watch the TV in desperate anticipation for any clue I could gain from the scene in front of me. That is, until someone stepped in front of me and blocked my view and I suddenly felt my stomach grow tight and found that it was getting harder to take in air, almost like someone was slowly squeezing my neck until I couldn’t breathe properly.

A young man was standing in front of me, his freckled cheeks tinted with a bright pink as he rubbed behind his curly brown hair and his dark eyes refused to meet mine. Every now and then he’d glance over to, I’m assuming, his group of friends but other than that he didn’t really do or say anything for a few seconds.

Eventually he moved his lips but, for some reason, I couldn’t hear what he was saying. Instead my ears had become filled with a sharp buzzing noise that drowned out all other sources of sound.

The guy in front of me, the people having fun at the bar, even the sound of the video games that surrounded us had become muted to me.

I tried to respond as best I could but every time I thought of what to say the words were erased from my mind before I could get them out of my mouth.

Then, in an instant all the noise shot back into my ears and I was greeted by the laughs of people having fun and the video games that had been entertaining them.

“So, yeah” the guy in front of me said, as he rubbed the back of his head and tried not to look at his feet, “ . . .you-you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I completely understand!”

He glanced around a bit more, his face beat red, as he waited for my response to the question I didn’t know.

What should I say? What should I do? These questions repeated themselves in my mind over and over again and no matter what I thought of it felt like the wrong answer.

Sweat began to drip down my body as my fingers started playing an invisible piano again. All while I stared blankly at the stranger in front of me who was patiently waiting for my response.

I clutched the hem of my skirt in my other hand and twisted the fabric until my heart stopped pounding in my chest.

This person was trying to interact and start a conversation with me, and I was just staring at him like how a child stares at something they don’t understand. 

I owed him a response, didn’t I?

Swallowing the lump made of air that was clogging my throat I mentally readied my words and, with all causian thrown to the wind, I let the first answer that I could come up with out of my mouth.

“I have to pee?”

We both looked wide eyed at each other in silence once more as we pondered my question, which I really wasn’t sure why I asked.

“Oh, uh yeah, okay. I’ll just get out of your way.”

I watched as he stumbled back to his table where I could see his friends laughing and patting him on the back.

It took me a few minutes to remember that I asked to go to the bathroom, even though I don’t have to, and that I should probably start making my way towards there.

My legs jerked my body out of the booth and I began to stagger blindly through the crowd of people, bumping into bodies without realizing it and all around being the nuisance that I am.

As my breath shook its way out of my lungs I clutched the marble counter in front of me as I tried to steady my body.

Somehow, I managed to make it to the bathroom. 

I wasn’t sure how I’d gotten to the bathroom, heck I wasn’t even sure I was still in the arcade, but I ultimately managed to complete the task I had absentmindedly assigned myself.

. . .

Now what do I do?

I couldn’t exactly go back out, but if I didn’t and Clair came back she might get worried.

She could probably figure out where I was but she might get mad at me for making her go through this, or get mad at the guy who tried talking to me, or call the cops to try and find me, or. . .

I looked at myself in the mirror and felt my stomach turn at the site of my reflection and I asked myself the same question I’d been asking for a few years now.

What is wrong with me?

Like usual, I couldn’t bring myself to come up with a good answer and just ended up messing with my blonde hair a little cause the bangs kept getting in front of my glasses.

With a sigh I continued to stand in front of the bathroom sinks my fingers tapping the marble that they were made of. I could leave soon, but for now I would have to wait, and probably think up an apology for Clairabell and the boy I was rude too. 

For now though, I should keep my mind busy. 

As I began tracing circles in the small puddles of water scattered around the counter a thought popped into my head. A little idea to keep my brain occupied and off uncomfortable subject matter.

Placing my hands under the automatic faucet I took a deep breath as the warm water began to pour out soaking my fingers and palms. Once my hands were significantly wet enough I slowly pulled them away, letting the water dribble onto the counter in front of me and whispered the word which I had to say.

“Undine.”

The moment the name slipped out of my mouth the water in front of me began to gather into my hands until it eventually formed a small ball. It was sort of like a large glass marble with how clear and shiny it was.

I smiled a little as I balanced the liquid in my hands before clutching it tightly with my fingers as I began pulling and stretching it.

Doing my best to make sure that the water held its shape I began twisting and turning it, like a baker molding their doe into the shape they wish to form but unsure what that actually was.

Eventually my hands began to move without my input as my mind pieced together what I wanted to create.

I started to smooth out the water until it was a sort of oval shape making sure that one end was a bit thicker than the other and that the smaller end had a bit of a curve to it before I tugged at the bottom until there was a peg on the sides which I slimmed down a little. 

Next, I pinched the small end and twisted the water around before pulling at it making a long, curly, “tail” appear. 

Then I cupped my hands around the top and started pushing some water upwards before turning it forward away from the body and did my best to give it a sort of boxy triangle shape. Tugging on either end of the shape I pulled two smaller triangles up and rubbed in them to make sure they were slightly dented inwards. And, just to add texture, I pushed my thumbs into the sides of the large triangle beneath where I had made the small dented ones before adding two much larger dents near the tip.

Brushing my hand down the back of the “neck” I made a long flowing main appear and finally sat my shape down on the counter, it’s shape holding so long as I focused on it.

My horse made of water sat perfectly on the marble in front of me, the light reflecting off its clear liquid body as a little water droplets dripped down it.

Butterflies tickled my stomach as I felt myself smile involuntarily.

It wasn’t anything special, in fact I’m sure looked awful compared to other peoples creations. But, I don’t know, guess I just really liked how it turned out.

Oh, I know!

Reaching into my skirt pocket I fumbled around a bit until my hands felt the cold metal of my zippo lighter resting just below my house key. I ran my thumb across my initials that my grandpa had emblemed onto its surface, just to make sure that it was mine, before pulling it out.

I flipped the top up and a small flame almost immediately materialized.

Holding the fire just below my little horse's head I tried my best to split my focus between the water and the fire in my hand.

“Salamander.”

With that word out of my mouth the flame started swirling around my little horse wrapping itself around its body, legs, and head before slowly sinking into the water. Unlike normal fire though, it didn’t extinguish but instead formed a small ball in the center and made my horses “eyes” glow a bright orange.

The horse then reared back on its back legs and let out a loud whine before it began galloping around the counter as if it were on an open field.

It was ultimately a simple spell, using fire to give life to a small object was sort of the second thing you need to learn when studying elemental magic after all.

But the sight of my little horsey galloping around made me feel as giddy as if I were a little kid. It was so cute that I couldn’t help but clap a little when it came alive.

Not wanting to stop there though, I placed my hand just above my horse while it grazed on a small puddle near the sink.

“Sylph”.

Instantly, wind began to shoot from my hand and, just like the fire, wrapped itself around my little horsey before going inside it.

My horse looked up from its water as two large wings popped out of its back.

Almost instinctively, it began running forward and started flapping its brand new wings until it lifted itself off the ground and began soaring all around the bathroom. It took to flying pretty easily if I do say so myself.

As I watched my little horse flap around I felt my mind start to clear and a sort of calmness began to settle over me. My shoulders relaxed and my muscles seemed to loosen up, as I let myself fall into a dazed state.

I didn’t have to think about going back into the arcade, about worrying Clair, or upsetting the guy who tried to talk to me. All I had to do was watch my little creation enjoy the life I had given it.

“Hi blondie!” Zee said, his head resting on my shoulder.

I let out a loud scream as I fell forward, grabbing the counter to regain my balance.

“Alex” I responded, my heart pounding wildly in my chest again, “What the heck dude!?”

“Sorry” he said, even though that smile of his told me he wasn’t sorry at all, “I came to use the bathroom and when I saw you zoning out I thought to myself, hey, let’s mess with her.”

“Wow, so glad my reaction of fear was to your liking. I’m afraid I am currently unable to do encourse however as my throat is currently killing me because of you.”

Zee then promptly gasped and looked at me with worry.

“Oh my goodness my lady, I meant you no harm” he responded, his body moving dramatically with every word, “perish the thought as I am but a humble servant in thine lords grace.”

“Dude what?”

“Oh woe is me, to have acted in such an ungentlemanlike way to such a fair lass such as yourself.”

Zee then, with all the acting ability of a highschooler trying not to fail drama class, placed his hands to his chest, spun in place and fell back first into my arms.

“Can you ever forgive me?”

“I’ll think about it” I assured him, doing my best not to giggle, before dropping him to the floor.

“Yaa” he said, as he laid on the bathroom floor of the arcade, “she’ll think about it.”

This causes me to let out a laugh. Dang it Zee, let me be mad at you.

As he pulled himself off the floor, and sat on the counter, a sudden realization hit me and I began to panic.

“Zee, you can’t be in here!”

“Hey, this is a free country, my bodily fluids are just as good as anybody else's.

“No dude, this is the girls room!”

“Really? Those must be the decorative waterfalls then.”

He pointed behind me and my face became instantly red as I saw what he was talking about.

“Oh my gods” I gasped as I gazed at the three urinals next to the two bathroom stalls, “this isn’t the girls room.”

“Meh, gendered bathrooms are bull crap anyways.”

“I shouldn’t be in here!”

“Dude, relax. Most of the people here are too drunk to even walk into the bathroom and a lot of them probably won’t mind seeing you is that a pegasus?”

We both looked as my little horsey landed next to Zee on the counter and began grazing on the puddles it found.

“It’s my little horsey” I told him, almost instantly forgetting about the whole bathroom thing, “I got a little bored and-”

“Its name is raindrop.”

“ . . .Dude, yes! Come here raindrop.”

I patted my lap but Raindrop simply went back to flying around to its hearts content. It’ll get used to the name eventually.

“Oh dude” Zee exclaimed, standing up on the counter, “check this out.”

Reaching to his left I watched as Zees hand slowly disappeared and a humming noise began to fill the air around us. After a few seconds he pulled his hand back revealing that he was now holding a small jar filled with dirt and a small red serpent-like creature.”

“No way, is that?”

“A 100% middle eastern, male, Mongolian death worm? Yes, yes it is.”

He handed me the amazing creature before jumping off the counter.

“I fed him a few runes so he’d shrink down and decided it’d be fun to keep him around until I’m near Egypt or Turkey again. Did have to get all the dead bodies out of him first though.”

“Going to pretend I didn’t hear that last part” I responded as I watched the little wormy wrap around the stick Zee had placed in there and start relaxing.

“In all fairness the people he ate are alive now, because of yours truly, so it all evens out.”

“Are they in anyway zombies?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that the use of zombification was in play here.”

I let myself giggle a little at my friends' slight ridiculousness before returning my attention to the little fella in my hands.

“Ooh, let’s name him Mr.Worms.”

“Nah, that’s too predictable.”

“So is Raindrop and you didn’t see me turn down that name.”

“How about cinnamon? Cause of the red scales.”

“His scales aren’t always red though.”

“Oh yeah that’s right.”

“Hmm, maybe Sandy?”

“Naw, I’m saving that name for my pet squirrel. How about-”

All of a sudden, we were interrupted by the sound of Zees phone ringing.

“Oh” he said, “hold on.”

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone which was encased a pink, kitten shaped cover.

“Moshi moshi” he responded.

“WHERE ARE YOU” I heard Clair scream on the other end.

“Oh hey, Clairabell baby. Long time no see. How is that hunk of a fiance of yours, still a wiz in the sack?”

I couldn’t hear Clairs response, but Zees smirk told me that he got the reaction he wanted.

“Alright, alright we’ll be out in a sec. Love you snookums.”

Zee made a kissy noise into the phone, and I could hear Clair growling angrily, before he hung up.

“Well” he said, grabbing his new pet out of my hand, “let’s go make sure Clairabell doesn’t start murdering people out of worry.”

“Oh, um, okay.”

Zee placed the worm back into the space he pulled him out of and we walked out of the restroom, Raindrop following after us.

To my surprise the bar had become quieter and the patriots had almost all disappeared.

How long had I been in the bathroom for?

Before I could figure out the answer to my question I suddenly felt two, squishy and soft, round orbs smash against my face as I was swept off my feet.

“Skee skee” Clairabell said as she hugged me, and pushed my head into her chest, “I was so worried!”

“C-Clair” I said, doing my best to push her away, “I can’t breath.”

My pleads for mercy were promptly met with Clair tightening the hug until I could feel my body being crushed.

“What” Zee whined, “no love for the hero who found the missing girl.”

Clair, finally loosened her grip, as she turned towards Zee.

“And where the hell were you?”

“Africa.”

The fact that he was able to say this without batting an eye both annoyed, and actually didn’t surprise, me or Cair.

“So” he continued, “what games do you guys wanna play?”

“We’re out of quarters” I told him as I was still held in Clairs arms.

“ . . .Was it Vega?”

“Vega is a cheating asshole” Clair argued, nearly crushing me again.

“Clairabell” I whined,but received no response.

Zee simply smiled coily and crossed his arms.

“Well, it seems you gals are in quite the predicament. To be faced with such a powerful opponent but with no way of defeating him. Truly, I feel nothing but the utmost sorrow at your predicament. Infact, I feel the need to donate all of my earthly possessions to your noble cause.”

“So you’ll give us quarters” I said, finally escaping Clairs grip.

“I wasn’t done hugging you” she promptly stated before grabbing me again.

“Watch where you’re touching please!”

“Hmm, yes, I would love to donate this treasure which you commonly call quarters. . . but I broke.”

We stood in silence for a sec.

“Say what?”

“I broke. I don’t have any money. Me is poor.”

“So why’d you offer us the quarters” Clair asked, squeezing me again. She probably would have snapped me in half if I didn’t manage to squirm free.

“It was fun,” Zee answered, his signature smirk returning.

Clairabell and I simply glared at him, the fact that we could never defeat Vega now actually annoying us more then Zee was.

“Oh come on don’t be mad” he said before rushing over to us and lifting both me and Clairabell over his shoulders, “for I know where our adventure can continue.”

“Hey, hey, hey” I protested as I was once again, unwillingly picked up.

“Yes” Zee answered, even though nobody asked a question, “a magical place in which dreams and happiness are bound. A place where we can be free to do as we please, and be who we are meant to be.”

“Skyes place” Clairabell asked.

“Yep”

“Hey wait guys” I started to say, “I should probably ask my pare-”

Before I could finish my sentence Zee began rushing to the exit, still holding me and Clair on his shoulders.

As we ran through the bar none of us could help letting out laughs and allowing smiles to grow on our faces.

We simply ignored the people around us and set out on our epic adventure.