#Tailwind Ears

[bunny584]

OBSESSED: SHOKO feat THE BOYS (FINALE)

A/N: Well, well, well. Oh how the tables have turned, dear reader. It’s not so easy — juggling two special grades and their personal physician…is it?

S/N: This is it. The pièce de résistance. I was…this is…NO ONE LOOK AT ME AFTER YOU READ THIS. No idea the word count. Long af, though.

C/W:….the trio is their own content warning lol. Mature. 18+, MDNI.

Part I, Part II.

Is this…a dream? 

This must be what it feels like to hear Domain Expansion, Infinite Void.

White static coats Shoko’s brain. She’s breathing underwater. Thinking in molasses. 

It’s a miracle her legs are working — they’re currently trailing behind you and the boys, back to her apartment. 

Her eyes are working, too — they’re attached to the dress rippling and bouncing off your ass. Your hips are a hypnotic pendulum. Swinging back and forth. 

Back and forth. 

The tailwind from your strut is a bad actor. 

Every so often teasing your cotton panties that won the lottery. Kissing up against your pretty petals. Riding along the plump curve of your mounds. Accentuating the intoxicating swell of your hips.

It’s paralyzing. 

You are paralyzing. 

Satoru’s hand is curled around the back of your neck. His azure glow is so pristine, so bright it refracts off your gorgeous cheekbones. Dampening his Limitless and intensifying his Six Eyes. 

Because the first to taste a meal is usually one’s eyes…right?

Shoko can nearly hear the depravity ringing between Satoru’s ears. 

Then there’s Suguru.

An arm is draped around your waist, capturing and releasing the hem of your dress every few seconds. Mindless movements. His sniper-like gaze focused on the apartment door at the end of the hall. 

Cool. Calm. Collected. 

One would think, if you don’t know Suguru well enough. 

His normally, perfectly repressed cursed energy surrounds him. Flickering into the air like campfire embers just waiting for the next gust of wind to erupt. Amethyst and graphite swarm around her best friend — the only indicator of his disintegrating self-control. 

20 steps left until she is expected to produce door keys. The only thing standing between everyone and you. 

This is it.

This is the moment. The one chance you get at ‘doing it right this time.’ 

15 steps. 

There are no more wishes granted. No more genies stuffed into bottles, or whatever. This is it. 

10 steps.

Get your shit together, Ieiri.

7.

Do not squander this on the sidelines.

3.

Shoko wires around the three of you. Stepping ahead to slot the frivolous piece of aluminum standing between her and her wet dream. 

1.

The apartment door flies open. Satoru’s hand moves on autopilot — deepening his grip around your neck. 

His conscious brain recedes. Triple distilled, unadulterated need moves in like a tropical storm. 

Silky strands of your hair plaited in his fingers. 

Wide, warm eyes locked into his. 

Tiny slit in those pouty, siren lips of yours. 

He will dismantle you. Piece by fucking piece. 

Until you’re a babbling, sobbing brook beneath his fingers. Apologizing for being such a cocktease. 

“Satoru…?” 

There’s a change in your voice. 

Fear? Nerves? 

Prey finally realizing who is next on the menu?

Satoru is staring. Fully aware of how disarming his eyes can be. Born with godlike vision and somehow the only thing he can see in the room is you. 

His greed is a threat to National Security. DEFCON Level 1.

His mouth ghosts yours. Barely registering Suguru encasing you from behind. Trailing his palms along your thighs. 

“Safe word, princess.” Satoru maps every ridge, every teeth indent on that gorgeous bottom lip.

“For when you need to tap out.” Suguru augments Satoru’s command. Gentle nip at the tip of your ear and you moan. Bitten back and clipped. 

“Such pretty sounds,” Shoko’s voice is distant. Breathy. Coated in Cabernet. 

“I..don’t—” 

Satoru slices your protest in half. Rolling your bottom lip under his teeth. Biting and licking his way across your pout. At the same time Suguru drops his mouth to your pulse point. 

“Don’t what, sweetheart?” Suguru murmurs into your neck. A filthy fucking whine escapes your lips and Satoru’s fingers go to your nipple. 

Hard. Pert and neglected. Desperate for attention.

Just like you. 

The way you’re panting into Satoru’s mouth. Listless and loose, bending into Suguru’s presence behind you. 

“He gave you an order, baby.” Suguru’s smile is so tender. Almost torturous against your oversensitive skin. 

“Don’t…ah..don’t need a safe word.”

 A weak declaration against Satoru’s kiss. Earning yourself a sharp twist of your sensitive buds. And gifting him a kitten squeal that makes his cock twitch. 

“Ohhhh Suguru, Shoko.  We have a brat on our hands.” He muses, hovering his lips over yours. Satoru pets the steel rod between his legs. Already dewy with his arousal. 

You are so beautiful, trying to resist their coordinated touch. The sound of Suguru’s large hand palming your ass reverberates throughout the room. 

“I’ll teach her some manners.” 

Suguru’s voice trails down your spine. Slow and sickly sweet. Like maple sap dripping down tree bark mid spring. He caresses the hot sting from his spanking. 

“I—I have manners.” Voice as small as your frame engulfed between the 6’3 counterparts. 

“I won’t ask again, princess.” Satoru tilts your chin up to meet his gaze. And Suguru continues sucking kisses into your neck, marking his territory. 

“Uh..mmm..god, S—“ Your eyes flutter closed. An earnest attempt to stay present. And not settle into the fuzzy, warm submission they are baiting you into. 

“Safe word, now.” 

“B—um. Blue? Blue.” Your resolve is about as rigid as cotton. 

“Blue?”

“Well that’s not fair.” 

Shoko and Suguru’s incredulous reactions intertwine with Satoru’s smug chuckle. A dusty rose high on your cheeks. 

You know why you chose Blue. Everyone else does, too. 

“Blue, huh?” Satoru presses a soft kiss on your lips. 

“To match me? Noted, baby.” 

Shoko melts into her couch. Her heartbeat rattles around her skull. With short, ineffective breaths that taste like full bodied red wine. Wet heat surges around her lace thong. 

The way you’re writhing between her best friends’ hands is sinful. 

Gazing up at Satoru like he is Vincent Van Gogh and the Starry Night above you is the product of his paintbrush. 

Incoherent as if Suguru’s fingers put the Sun to bed. Whimpering his name like a prayer. 

Adorable, girl.

God isn’t going to save you here. 

The pads of Shoko’s cool fingers nearly sizzle against her puffy pleasure point. Slick coating her with just one, two, three long stripes against her sticky folds. 

“God...fuck..bring her to me.” The grit in Shoko’s tone scrapes along her voice box. Matching the aggressive pace of her fingers against her needy cunt. 

The boys lock gazes with their third. Cavalier smile tugging against Satoru’s lips. Suguru’s brow touches his hairline. 

Ladies, first. 

“You heard her.” Satoru snakes your arms around his neck and hoists you around his waist in one fluid motion. 

“S—sato—“ He bullies his tongue back into your mouth. No more protesting, gorgeous. 

Slow steps towards Shoko, so he can drink from your well. A sweet, delectable spell dripping from your lips. And if Satoru doesn’t wake up tomorrow morning after eating your forbidden fruit, then so be it. 

Suguru lets himself watch you from a short distance.

His hand can’t stop rubbing his cock. Shamelessly tugging his heavy rod. Burning your little expressions into his mind’s safe. The way your eyebrows come together at the center whenever Satoru bites your bottom lip. Your desperate grabs for air against his relentless kiss. 

“Hi, pretty.” Shoko drawls the moment Satoru settles you down on her lap. Her thigh digs into your soaked, gummy core. Glazing her skin with your drool. 

“Hi, Sho.” Still panting from Satoru’s embrace. So fragile. A harsh breeze could shatter you to stardust. And Shoko pulsates around nothing.

One hand is firm on your hip. The other tracing mindless shapes on your chest. Leaving a poetic cascade of goosebumps in her wake. 

Reflexively, you go to caress Shoko’s shoulders only to be caught by Satoru’s enormous grip. Whipping both of your wrists behind your back. While his other hand toys with the erection straining against his pants.

“She didn’t give you permission to touch, did she princess?” He drops his tone into the shell of your ear.  

“Oh, I—“

“Manners, gorgeous.” A gentle reminder in between smearing kisses along your neck. Shoko hooks her index finger along your neckline. One tug and your mouth-watering tits come into full view. 

“Fucking, hell.”

“God, baby.”

“Perfect…fucking perfect.” 

Satoru, Suguru and Shoko’s praises crash into one another. God took his time with you. Sculpting a fucking masterpiece. 

To be praised. 

To be worshipped. 

To be taken. 

Used. 

Filled. 

“Shoko. I want to hear her.” 

Suguru’s command is guttural. Fist snug around the base of his cock. Shameless about the tears of precum falling down his shaft. 

Shoko’s fingers work their way down to your pulsing clit. You preen into her touch. Pretty, tiny gasps against her cheek. 

“Let it out, baby.” Shoko coos into your ear. Thumbing little circles around your clit. 

You bury your face into her neck. Delicious ache swelling between your legs. Grinding along her slender thigh. Honey seeping around your clothed cunt. 

“S—sho, mmnngh..fuck..” Desperation fans Shoko’s neck. Bucking your hips with your hands restrained. 

“There she is.” 

Suguru’s fist slams to his hilt. Now close enough to cup your perky mound. Rippling and bouncing with every jolt. Feathering his finger over your pebbled bud. 

The sudden touch and velvet voice above you drags your gaze upward. 

And Suguru nearly cums in his hand right then and there. 

Misty eyes, drool covered lips. Breathy pants. Angelic features rewritten by lust. 

“Suguru?” 

“Such a good girl. Keep fucking her thigh like that, baby.” 

Throaty praise in return. Suguru rips his hand away from his angry length. Staving off his finish. 

Not yet. 

They’re not remotely close to being done with you yet.

“She’s so responsive.” Satoru chimes in. Releasing his grip on your wrists. 

Your hands fly to Shoko’s face. Melding your mouth with hers. Leaking precious sounds, from your lips and your sopping wet core. His hand kneads your neglected breast, pinching your nipple every so often. 

Satoru and Suguru palming at your tits. Shoko fucking your mouth with her tongue. You humping Shoko’s leg like a dog in heat.

It’s too much. 

Wave after wave of pleasure crashes into your groin. You nestle into the crook of her neck. Grasping at her thick, brunette locks. 

“S-sho, I’m close, I’m—mmgh..”

“It’s okay pretty,” Shoko husks. Her thumb at a perfect rhythm and pressure.

“You can cum, baby.” Suguru rasps, tugging at your nipple at the same time Satoru smacks the supple flesh he was petting.

“Oh fuck oh fuck—“

The delicious sting from their touches sends you over the edge. And the wire seated deep in your stomach snaps. Hips stuttering to an abrupt stop. 

The room stills. Satoru, Suguru and Shoko studying your micro movements through your peak. So quiet that the walls have to lean in to hear you and your lovers breathing. 

Six eyes laser into your body. Everyone’s appetite for you simultaneously tripling. 

Satoru swipes the back of his hand across his mouth. Subconsciously aware of the pool of saliva forming. His manhood mirroring the trail of drool running down his mouth. 

He’s always been a fan of dessert. 

“I need to taste you.” 

“And I need a front row seat.” Shoko nibbles at your cheek.

Satoru lifts and spins you around on Shoko’s lap in a matter of seconds. You, still gummy and compliant from your orgasm spread your legs weakly over Shoko. Earning you a chorus of praise from your lust-drunk lovers. 

He drops to his knees. His blushing, weeping tip in hand. Pushing your sodden panties to the side. While Shoko cradles your thigh in her hand, holding you open for her best friend. 

Your rose blooms in front of him. Dewy with your slick. Candied scent holding all of Satoru’s senses hostage. 

“Look at how pretty, she is.” He breezes against your swollen pearl. Your petals quiver, and his dick leaks. 

“S—Satoru..please.” 

Satoru’s head is spinning. Entirely drunk off of the sight of you like this. Choking back his own pathetic groans.

His tongue licks a long stripe up your ripe folds. And your taste pollenates his mind for an eternity. An addict with his chosen vice. 

Your hands magnet to his snowy halo. The melody you sing from his kisses and licks could sink any ship. Echoing in Satoru’s and Shoko’s groin. 

Shoko is in a complete haze. Molesting herself numb at the way you undulate against Satoru’s eager tongue. Pitiful little mewls that are worthy of a platinum record.

“Feeling good, gorgeous?” Shoko eggs you on. Quickly sinking into her own threatened orgasm. 

“Y—yes..mmgh so..god..” Paper thin squeals from your lips. 

Crystals line your eyes in response to Satoru’s tongue fucking in and out of your pussy. Suckling your clit. Figures of 8, and 8 and 8 again until your mind is mush. 

Except Suguru refuses to let you get lost at Satoru’s sea. He grips a handful of your hair, whipping your head in his direction.

Both you and Shoko tilt up to see Suguru’s driveling manhood at your eye level. Veiny, heavy. So clearly abused by his hand. Volcanic eruption in his hooded gaze. 

“Hands on my cock, baby.” 

Barely above a whisper, but somehow your body recognizes his authority. 

And you seem genuinely shocked by your visceral obedience. Immediate acquiescence to Surguru’s will. 

An approving grin teases Suguru’s lips. Your hands are comically small wrapped around his length. 

God, he could split you in half. 

Heavy eyelids from Satoru’s agonizing touch, you’re mystical. Gazing into Suguru’s eyes like his soul is nothing but an appetizer. Yours to swallow, digest, play with. 

“Ask nicely.” Suguru grunts, as your eyes rake over his leaky cockhead. Longing for a taste. 

Satoru and Shoko come to a hush. Her fingers slow. Satoru forces himself off of your folds. Somehow knowing the next words to roll off your tongue will shift their brain chemistry, permanently. 

Palatial lashes fan your utterly fucked-out gaze. Swollen lips millimeters away from Suguru’s blunt tip. 

“May I suck your cock, please?” 

Filthy-nasty-dirty-fucking-vulgar noises fill the room, while you swirl Suguru’s cum covered head around your tongue.

“Fuck. Your lips baby.” He hisses, his hips piston into your pretty, accepting mouth. 

“So messy, princess.” Satoru murmurs into your swollen cunt, slipping his fingers past your tight ringlet.

Beautiful gurgles around Suguru’s shaft. Crystalline streams of spit glazing your puffy tits. 

You buck into Satoru at a similar, haphazard pace that he strokes his thick rod. Shoko sinks her teeth into your shoulder. 

“G-gonna c..gonna—“ high pitched, broken warnings spill from your lips. Just as a blinding wave of electricity surges down Shoko’s legs — curling her pedicure inward. 

“Come on, pretty girl. Cum for me.” 

Suguru’s decadent baritone sends both you and Shoko over the hot edge. A cacophony of huffs and whines, coating the walls in your shared ecstasy. Spraying your essence all over Satoru’s face. 

He’s slow to stand. Savoring remnants of your peak. He and Suguru exchange sordid glances. Sharing the same thought.

Pretty little doll. 

Loose limbed and spent in Shoko’s lap. Hair mused. So deeply entrenched into sub space you’ll need to sleep it off of to come to your senses. 

A work of art, you are. 

But not quite broken, yet. 

“It’s our turn now, little one.” Deep and measured. Thick with want. Suguru lifts you by your arms off of Shoko’s lap. 

His back lays flush against the couch. You straddle his muscular lap. Satoru stands directly behind you. 

Suguru’s manhood is rigid. You’d have to impale yourself on him to get any closer. Similarly, Satoru’s length makes itself very present along the curve of your spine. 

“Look at me.” Satoru’s throaty demand comes from above your head. 

Obedience is the only language you can currently speak, so you tilt back. Soaking in the celestial boy behind you. Closer to God than Man, from this vantage point. 

“You want to taste yourself, baby?” 

A rhetorical question from Satoru, but you still bobble your head in an eager yes. 

“Such a desperate little puppy, aren’t you?” Suguru mocks you, taking one of your puffy nipples into his mouth. 

“She is.” 

Satoru affirms in between spearing your mouth with his warm muscle. Kissing the breath directly from your lungs until you’re air hungry and clawing at his neck. Leaving red streaks on his pale skin. 

Shoko has since poured herself another glass of red wine. Settling herself on the long arm of her couch. 

‘Far enough to drown into her own spiral. Close enough to register everything they do to you in the the most permanent part of her mind.’

Dèjá Vu.

But this lifetime? This reiteration of events? It’s fucking sublime. 

Shoko’s lips curl into a cheshire smile against the rim of her glass. Hedonistic on every single level known to man and she wouldn’t have it any another way. 

Her eyes flicker down to where Suguru’s hands are eclipsing your hips. And Satoru’s hands are cradled into the small of your waist. Hovering you over Suguru’s cock. The weapon of mass destruction that it is. 

“Suguru…Suguru it won’t…” Beautiful little panic ascending in pitch. 

“It won’t, what baby?” He teases. Eyes fixed on you like the apex predator he is. 

Crimson erupts from the tip of your nose to the tips of your ears. Fluttering away from his quicksand gaze. 

“What’s the matter, pretty? Don’t tell me you think you can’t handle—“

“I can handle it—I can…handle it.” You cut Satoru’s taunt down, convincing absolutely no one in the room— including yourself. 

But the shred of pride you have left comes forward. Bracing your hands on Suguru’s flexed shoulders. Digging little crescent moons into his olive skin. 

He can barely bite back the groan in his throat when your wet heat drags along his cockhead. 

Twitching around your opening. 

Feigning for entry. 

“Go ahead, little one.” 

“You can do it, baby.” 

“Oh FUCK..GOD.” Your volume is nothing in comparison to the fire incinerating your plush walls. Stretching your womanhood in a way that’s ungodly. 

Suguru is blinding. 

Flashing lights. Black spots in the visual field. Floaters everywhere kind of blinding. The prior encouragement from your lovers did nothing to soften his blow. 

Knowing this would be the result of you trying to work his inhuman length inside yourself, Suguru buries himself in one side of your neck. Satoru mirrors his action on the other side. 

Gentle adoration. Tender kisses. Light caresses to dull the pain. 

“Such a good girl.”

“I knew you could take it, princess.”

“You’re doing so well for me, pretty girl.”

Suguru rocks his hips in a slow, dreamy pace. Back and forth. Encouraging your body to reset around him. And the pressure. The delicious fucking fullness from his cock is mind numbing. 

“R—ready.” 

Barely loud enough to register. But Suguru could hear your red blood cells colliding with one another in your veins if you keep him next to you long enough. 

“Eyes on me when I’m inside you, sweetheart.” 

“Yes sir.”

The smile on his lips is no where near as tantalizing as the smile in his crushed velvet eyes. 

And for a moment that is going to be on cinematic repeat in everyone’s mind — Suguru thrusts into you like a man trying to repopulate earth. Never once letting you break his eye-contact. 

Melodic sounds of bodies smacking together ring throughout the room. Beautiful ripples of flesh, like soft waves during low tide. Your wet sex colliding with his. Him locking you into place because nothing else exists at this moment. 

Both Satoru and Shoko’s jaws are slack. Satoru can’t even bring himself to stroke his length thrashing wildly in his hands. 

This is hypnotizing. 

A motion picture worthy of an Oscar. 

You can feel Suguru recreating the shape of your soul. With each thrust. Deliberate. Deep. Ensuring that he will be a part of you, permanently. 

“God, ngh Su—fuck..purple..” unintelligible words, incoherent sounds.  You’re grasping at rescue from this pleasure. 

“Hah..” Suguru’s serrated breaths kiss your lips. “Try again.”

“Suguru, please. I’m cu—I’m pink..pink.”  

“Wrong color, princess.” Satoru’s husks above you. Tears of his thick cum streaming steady down his shaft. 

Suguru’s bucks into you relentlessly now. Chasing the high you both are riding. Shredding what consciousness you have left. Not that you wanted it, not that you needed it. 

“Fuck.” 

Suguru’s hips come to a screeching halt. Floating over Shoko’s cushion. Painting your warm walls with his seed. With you filling his lap with your dew. Delirious, choppy intakes of air between your lips and his. 

Momentarily forgetting your audience, you instinctively fall into his chest. Every single muscle in your body, suddenly without tone. 

Satoru’s mouth is ajar. 

Still not completely comprehending the fact that he just came — hands free — watching his best friend rail the conscious mind out of you. 

“Blanket, Satoru.” Shoko quietly nudges from her position on the couch. 

She can’t blame him for being stunned in place. Her mind is still reeling at the dessert her eyes just feasted on. 

“Come here, baby.” Suguru murmurs. Working himself out of you, while Satoru drapes you in Shoko’s throw. 

“Thank you.” A tiny chuckle escapes your lips. Cozying into Suguru’s arms. They should be proud of your manners. 

And as if you said your cheeky thought out loud, your three lovers break into soft laughter. 

“Wait here.” Satoru presses a chaste kiss to your damp forehead. Disappearing into Shoko’s bathroom a moment after. 

A small sigh of relief tumbles out of her when she hears the familiar sound of bath water running. 

Satoru must’ve done this before. Once or twice.

Suguru, too. 

Judging by the way he’s whispering sweet affirmations in your ear. Lulling you to sleep. In his warm, safe embrace. 

She’s never seen her friend like this. 

“Girls! Bath time!” Satoru beckons from the bathroom. 

His voice rustles you out of your post coital daze. Nestling deeper into the crook of Suguru’s neck. Shoko watches the way his eyes rest on your flushed face; stroking his hand along your arm. Intermittently pressing kisses along your hairline. 

An enchanting, glass doll they were so eager to shatter just a moment ago. 

“Ready, baby?” 

Suguru murmurs into your ear. And Shoko just knows he’s hoping for a no. Silently praying for more time with you, pliant in his arms like this.

“Mmhm.” Your puffy lips curl up into a sleepy smile. Glossy-eyed, when you finally pull your heavy lids open. 

Suguru’s breath catches in his throat. 

Shoko’s heart rattles around its bony cage.

How do you do this?  

How do you make it so easy to trip and fall so hopelessly in love with you with a bat of an eyelash? 

“…I get it guys, but the water will get cold. And that would be a shame. Because this bath is, perfect.”  

Satoru teases from the bedroom doorway. Startling Shoko and Suguru out of the trance you unintentionally put them in. 

“You don’t have to carry me!” A half-protest bubbles from your lips when Suguru stands with you wrapped up in Shoko’s favorite blanket.

“Shhh, let me do this sweet girl.” He coos, for your ears only. Navigating around Satoru’s lean stature. 

Shoko follows closely behind him, itching for her alone time with you. 

“You’re going to let her feet touch the ground, Suguru?!” 

Her sarcasm is followed by light-hearted laughter settling around your bodies. 

The four of you in tandem like a world class orchestra. Shoko is already lamenting waking up from this dream. 

“Not if I can help it.” Suguru sets you down on the kitchen sink. Nudging enough space for his muscular hips between your legs. 

He cradles your chin in his hand. Taking as many butterfly kisses as you’ll allow.

“Mmm, goodnight, Suguru.”

His name rolls sweet and soft off of your tongue. Like a dark chocolate truffle, and suddenly Shoko wishes her name was Suguru. 

Satoru does too. Judging by the way he yanks his counterpart away from you. His eyes caress your face before his hand does.

“How are you feeling, princess?” 

Hushed and saccharine. Doting. As if a decibel too loud is akin to Hollow Purple. Circling his fingers around your thighs. 

How foreign. 

Shoko can almost taste Satoru’s concern. Attentive in a way that’s inconceivable. 

From her vantage point, she watches you ensnare Satoru in those big, helpless doe eyes. Tempting him to fuck the living daylight out of you (again) but also handle you like a butterfly with a broken wing. 

“Just a bit worn out, pretty boy.” Said with a dreamy little laugh. And Satoru would chase your voice into the clouds if he could. 

He drapes your arms around his neck and you’re putty in his hands. 

“Don’t look at me like that, baby.” He grazes the corner of your lips with his. A dull, insistent ache welling between Shoko’s legs. 

You’re irresistible like this. 

“Unless you want us to wear you out, again.” 

“Satoru!” Your tiny, ineffectual fists slam against Satoru’s pecs. Making the trio even more fond of you. 

Their muse.

“Alright boys, I can take it from here.” 

Unhurried but finite, Shoko shoos her best friends out of the bathroom. Not before Satoru can steal one last kiss from your swollen lips.  

In a matter of minutes Shoko is settled in a sea of warm, eucalyptus bubbles. The light sheen of essential oil grazing her skin, still glimmering with remnants of love-making. 

Her eyes ride the dips and swells of your alluring lines. 

Balmy skin decorated with lust-drunk imprints from Satoru, Suguru and herself. Hand prints. Tiny crescent moons from fingernails. Ellipses of bite marks. A kaleidoscope of red, blue, deep purple. Living, breathing residue of the desperation — the need — you so easily draw from them. 

“Such a pretty girl.” 

You flush under Shoko’s praise. Newly stroked desire bubbling in the back of her throat. You’re so full of averted gazes and warmed cheeks. Twiddling your thumbs. Tentatively shifting a few paces away from the bathtub. 

So shy, now. It’s adorable. 

“Come here, baby.” Shoko curls her fingers inward.

“Okay.” Your response high and thin. Feet moving without resistance. 

Obedient little doll. 

Shoko’s wet dreams couldn’t even come up with a vision this decadent. You’re an oil painting. Soft on the hands, even softer on the eyes. 

You nestle in the warm waters between Shokos legs. Her nipples pebble against your supple flesh. Resting the back of your head on her chest. A lock-in-key fit. 

Comfortable, serene quiet sheaths the room around you. And Shoko is soaring. 

“I like you like this.” She presses a small kiss against your temple. 

“Like what?” You whisper.

Shoko’s hands travel up your navel, cupping your sensitive tits. You arch into her touch. Kitten mewls escape you. So responsive. 

“Soft.” Your nipples stiffen between her thumb and index finger. 

“Vulnerable…a little broken.” Shoko continues. Catching your needy gaze. Pupils blown to full moons. She hovers her lips over yours. Already parted, hanging open. Ready to receive. 

“Shoko.” 

Such a beautiful, pitiful little whine. Tilting your chin up, chasing Shoko’s lips. But she maintains the minimal distance. Instead, kneading your mounds. Drawing a gorgeous melody of whimpers; squirming beneath her ministrations. 

“I like being the one to put your pieces back together,” Shoko teases, dropping her tone. And you draw her in like a moth to flame. 

Shoko’s lips slot into yours with ease. Puzzle pieces meant to fit. She swipes her tongue over yours. Nibbles along your puffy bottom lip.

You’re delicious. 

And panting, when Shoko finally pulls away. Aurora borealis in your eyes. Sparkling. Expansive. 

And even though you are putty in her hands right now. Docile and pliant, hanging on every brush of a finger, every kiss. Shoko is falling.

Free falling.

Without a safety stop in sight. 

[ana-lora-rein]

𝘌𝘺𝘬𝘵𝘢𝘯 𝘛𝘴𝘢𝘩𝘦𝘺𝘭𝘶 ܟ 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 1 ܟ Broken Wings

Amateur translation. Postcanon.

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Marines don't die, they go to hell...

His ears were ringing endlessly, and his heart, pounding frantically in his chest, seemed about to burst out. The only thing that cooled off was the tailwind, which kept from passing out. If he had lowered his eyelids for even a second, in a fainting state, he would have fallen from the flying banshee straight into the rocky abyss of the soaring mountains. Miles felt warm trickles of blood rolling down his temples. He had to overcome the stabbing pain in his body to brush it away with his hand.

— Bitch... — Quoritch cursed, spitting up the clots. He gripped his fingers tightly on the collar straps of the winged beast, guiding it toward the base.

The flight wasn't long, but all the way there, Miles had only one thought: Why didn't his son stay with him? Little Spider, struggling with conflicting feelings, did not let him die: pulled from the bottom of the wreckage of the sinking shuttle, growled one last word and fled away. Maybe the kid did it out of the compassion he'd inherited from Sally? Or out of a sense of indebtedness to the one who had brought him into the world? In any case, the colonel was left confused. And in the back of his mind, two very different beginnings were struggling. They, like cats, were gnawing at him from inside, reminding him that sooner or later he would have to choose. One was demanding to turn around, to find that scoundrel Sully and take out the wretched gang for the damage they'd done, and the other was wanting to forget, to tell everyone to go to hell. His jaw clenched in irritation, and Miles clenched his teeth. He promised himself he'd figure it out. But there was no way to undo what had happened. His team, his loyal comrades-all of them dead at the hands of the blue apes. What a shame for him as commander! Poor Lyle. He wanted to go to the makeshift sauna at the bottom of the hill just outside the town. And the Reaper... She'd still be alive and well, even if she was blue in the body. Mansk had intended to ask the beastie out on a date. And though all the boys knew how foolish his idea was, he couldn't ask anyone else out.

«Scumbag Sully and his cum wife!»

A gagging interrupted Miles' thoughts. Rekom crouched on his side, spitting out blood. A stinging, biting pain squeezed under his ribs. He mentally counted the damage his enemy had done: a punctured shoulder, something like a lung wound, a concussion that made him dizzy and his eyes swim. All this he had felt once before. On Earth War, it was like déjà vu, a memory that came back to him. The pain was the same, but the motivation was different.

Hear that, Sally, how does it feel to betray your country?

The Winged Beast. Banshee. It suddenly nervously fluttered its wings, screaming as if distraught. The animal sensed everything the rider was experiencing. The colonel remembered the connection (tsaheylu). This connection seemed too strong, too obscene and too explicit. Gathering his will into a fist, Miles took a deep breath and exhaled, placing his palm against the banshee's head. He stroked the beast, tried to calm it down, because we don't need the bird to get nervous and send it into the abyss. The colonel understood that he had to get to know his new friend better, to learn the subtleties of communication.

Like a thunderclap, the wireless rattled loudly in his ear. He still had the earpiece with the microphone in his ear.

— Quaritch! Can you hear me? General Ardmore calling!

— Shit... — Miles sighed heavily, coughing and coughing up, — Yes, I'm on the line, General! The mission failed, there were too many of them! Back to base!

— Why haven't you been in contact for two hours?! What happened?! What happened to Dr. Ian Garvin?!

— Missing or dead.

— And Captain Mick Scoresby?

Miles crouched in pain and wrapped his arm around himself, trying to answer as calmly as possible. He never liked to report, especially to women, and the worst thing for him was when it was a woman who turned out to be the boss. The colonel could only respect the generaless for the first half of the day he met her before she got under his skin with arrogance and prejudice.

«Fucking bitch...»

He had to unfasten the Velcro vest and throw it off his bloody body: even the clothes squeezing his chest prevented him from speaking.

— Missing or dead, — the Colonel repeated.

— Go immediately back to the scene and find the doctor! Can you hear me?

— I hear you. — Miles's breathing quickened and his eyelids seemed too heavy.

He wanted to finish, but the shroud that fell over his eyes and the ringing in his ears plunged him into darkness. His hands slid down, and recom fell chest-to-chest on the banshee's neck, finally losing his composure and his equilibrium.

***

Laura Asadi always loved weekends. Even though the sun was beating down like never before, illuminating the city streets with its scorching rays and casting glares on the glass panoramas of the buildings, she went to the park for a long-awaited jog. Nothing could have made her happier than the mesmerizing nature of Pandora. Unless it was music on her headphones and a desire to pursue dancing, singing, photography, or maybe even writing a novel. But as much as a young soul's heart tugged at creativity, it was her profession as a therapist that allowed Laura to leave a dying planet and find herself in the most influential organization. The RDA appreciated her abilities and welcomed her into their ranks. They gave her a new life that she longed to share with her family. Happy for their daughter's fate, her parents remained on Earth. Laura could only arrange their move to Pandora by working off her first contract, and she humbly awaited that day.

The week flew by unnoticed. Every day she had to work late with patients caught up in the maelstrom of events. People couldn't find common ground with the local tribes: A prolonged war had broken out. Diversion after diversion claimed more and more victims. Few survived the battle with the Na'vi. Lora understood that they were fighting for their territories, and were not at all happy to have unexpected visitors from space. Any attempt to negotiate between the two parties to the conflict was backfiring. Too different lives, too different species, too different view of the world.

Laura admired the philosophy of the Na'vi. Before going to bed, she read books about this amazing species, their culture and everyday life. She especially liked the works of the once popular scientist Grace Augustine. Fifteen years ago this woman had managed to make contact with the Omatikaya forest clan. They even built a school for children, where Miss Augustine taught earthly lessons and shared her knowledge. But, unfortunately, her efforts were wasted. There was a conflict that remained the subject of numerous theories. Laura heard only one truth: A certain Marine Jake Sully, an Avatar member, sided with the Na'vi during the first war, gathered the clans into an army, and prevailed by expelling the humans from Pandora. This precedent has remained on everyone's lips to this day. After all, from time to time Sully would sabotage military depots and blow up cargo trains. Some considered him a collaborator, a traitor to the motherland, and some quietly admired him and wished him victory. Laura, on the other hand, always found it difficult to choose. She tried to stay out of the fuss and do her job - to heal the wounded, to save lives. After all, working off her contract to get her family back from a dying, poisoned Earth.

Gathering her long dark hair into a ponytail, Laura stepped into the thicket of the park, breathing in the scents of the local flora through the transparent oxygen mask. She liked to come here in the mornings when she got up early: she enjoyed nature, and fed the funny prolemurs with bananas before exercising. Some animals began to recognize her, came down from the trees and unceremoniously stretched out their paws in the hope of getting a treat. This time red apples were waiting for them. No sooner had the girl rustled her backpack than twigs rattled around her. On all sides there were those who wanted to eat them. They wiggled their ears, curiously waiting and looking at the guest with interest.

— Guys, not all at once, you do remember to be able to share, don't you? — Laura laughed as she handed out the apples. One of the cubs, begging for attention, climbed down from his mother and brazenly climbed onto the girl's shoulder, wrapping one pair of long paws around her and tugging at the strap of her top with the other. — Oh, is that you, buddy? I remember you, you're growing up fast...

She quickly got used to and grew to love the animals here. Her acquaintances and colleagues always wondered how these animals let her in so quickly. After all, usually prolemurs tried to stay away from people, and if they approached, it was only for a moment. Inadvertently, Laura thought she loved animals more than people, and she should have gone to the veterinary department. If it weren't for her promise to her dad and her love of the arts, she would have. Born into a family of the medical generation, she hadn't found the courage to break a long-standing tradition. Even though she felt out of place, she was one of the best in the department.

Asadi didn't have time to finish feeding the prolemur pack. Suddenly the roar, so wild and piercing to the core, made the beasts scream and scatter in panic in the bushes. The girl shuddered, clutching her heart in terror. The sweep of bright blue wings that came down on the ground, crushing the bushes, shocked and stunned her. Laura had never seen a mountain banshee this close. From something screaming in panic and shaking her head. The girl opened her eyes in wild amazement. A bloodied, unconscious Na'vi had fallen from the winged animal's back. A tall blue body in military gear fell between two prickly bushes. The banshee flapped its wings and rose into the air, disappearing into the sky.

«Oh my God, it's an avatar!»

Laura dropped to her knees and crawled toward the man. The long thorns of the bushes touched her tanned skin, scratching her to the point of pain. The girl clenched her teeth from the unpleasant thrill, but, holding herself together, approached the victim. Streams of blood trickled from his wide nose, mingling with the profuse sweat on his blue skin. The avatar furrowed his dark eyebrows and lowered his pointed ears in pain and agony, but he did not regain consciousness. He only opened his mouth, breathing heavily in the air he needed.

Laura caught her breath. She stared in shock at the three-meter-tall humanoid she was seeing for the first time in her life. Her hands were shaking with excitement. She hadn't had to deal with avatars yet. The therapist wasn't sure she could give first aid to this creature properly, because she didn't know how much their anatomy matched that of a human. But despite her fear and uncertainty, her therapist habit was to go nowhere. With feverish movements, she began to check for a pulse and determine the damage to her body. The girl also fleetingly noticed the long tail she had accidentally sat on. She hesitantly put her palms to the humanoid's chest, probing for numerous cuts. Blood was flowing from the punctured shoulder. She had to act immediately. The purple insignia of skulls and a snake on the victim's clothing suggested that this was someone very important to the RDA. A recombinant organism. Back from the dead, he risked ending up on the other side of the world again.

The therapist gathered her senses and was vigilant. She grabbed the edges of her cotton T-shirt, tearing the white fabric in two halves. A few moments more, and the punctured shoulder was carefully bandaged. The girl couldn't let it die. Quickly she took the smartphone out of her backpack with her bloodstained fingers and dialed the right number. The beeps were excruciatingly long. Laura was shaking with fear for the creature's life. She gently wiped the blood from under his nose, checked his pupils, and lifted her eyelids. Rekom was on the verge of life and death. Laura swallowed the lump in her throat. Emotions were running wild.

«God, I hope you don't die!» — Laura thought, and a shuddering veil covered her eyes.

— Emergency service. What's wrong? — The operator's long-awaited voice came through the smartphone like a breath of oxygen.

Laura perked up, holding reckom's bandaged shoulder with her free hand. He hissed desperately, like a roadkill cat, remaining unconscious with only one twitch of his tail.

— Therapist Laura-Anastasia Asadi speaks! Suburban Park sixth district, thirteenth precinct on the south gate side, a recombinant has been found in critical condition! Send a car immediately, he has lost a lot of blood, punctured shoulder! Also suspected second-degree concussion!

The wounded man moved his ear. He tried to catch every word, tried to come to his senses, but all he could do was open his blood-glued lips and whisper faintly:

— I must... I must...

— What? — Laura leaned toward his face. She excitedly contemplated every inch of smooth blue skin with smooth "tiger" stripes, and her hand gently slid down the long neck of the amazing creature, where the pulse beat faintly.

— Miss Asadi, five minutes, the brigade is on its way, wait!

***

At the end of the long, bright tunnel, flooded with blinding light, Miles saw the outlines of people. They were calling his name and rank, asking him to return. Somewhere he'd heard those voices before, painfully familiar, but no image had ever emerged in his mind.

«Who are they? And what do they want?»

As if he were weightless, light as a feather, he floated and felt absolute serenity. He did not want to fly to the sound of the voices. He wished he could stay. This strange place of walls of bright white light engulfed him with every second and distanced him from human silhouettes. It seemed so familiar, so quiet and safe. There was no noise, no one was giving orders. And there was no pain.

«It's so good here» — Miles thought, but the bliss was short-lived. An invisible force, like a magnet, pulled him forward along the tunnel. A sense of excitement and fear made his heart beat fast. Now he heard not only people's voices, but also the pounding of his own heart. Something squeezed his lungs. The feeling of his body returned. And the pain returned. The heaviness in his right shoulder was accompanied by a groan. Miles opened his eyes.

— Finally! We thought we'd lost you, Colonel, — said the man in the big round glasses and white coat. The nurses, standing on either side of the patient, shined flashlights directly into his eyes, testing the response of his pupils. Miles exhaled irritably. He wanted to raise his hand and shove the pesky medics away, but the straps of sturdy material prevented him from even moving.

— What the hell? — the recom stared at the restraints that held him in one position, overcoming the stabbing pain in his ribs.

— I'm sorry, sir, this is an involuntary measure. Do you remember what happened to the previous shift of doctors? Your violent reaction sent them to the ICU.

— I'll put you in the ICU if you don't take off those fucking bracelets right now. Now!

— Sir, no, I can't, I'm sorry, that's an order... — the doctor smiled tensely, adjusting his glasses on his thin humped nose.

— I order you! — growled grudgingly Miles, emphasizing the pronoun.

— Please, sir, calm down, you can't be nervous, you've been injected with a double dose of antibiotics...

The doctor's speech of trembling, uncertain words was interrupted by an electronic beep. The massive doors parted to the sides, opening to the visitors. General Ardmore appeared in the ICU in the company of several guards and with a man in a black business suit. When Miles saw people in such suits in front of him, he was knowingly preparing for something unpleasant. These well-dressed rats always demanded too much and gave nothing in return. The first thing he would remove from his memories of his past life was service to such chumps.

— You have no right to give orders if you can't handle even a simple task,— the general said, and walked over to the wounded man, looking at his injuries from head to toe with a look of frustration, — report what happened. And where's Dr. Ian Garvin?

Miles pressed his lips together, holding back the urge to curse, and, clenching his fists, obediently answered:

— The ship sank. The crew, the doctor, and the captain are probably dead. So were my men. Sully attacked from several flanks. There were more of them than we thought, there was little chance of winning.

— But those chances were there? — the man in the suit asked.

Miles glanced at the stranger, thinking only of how nice it would be to take a cool shower now, but instead he had to lie in the medication-soaked room and report back.

— That's right. If it hadn't been for their tame whale with amrita in its head, I'd have executed the scumbag Sally.

A tense feeling arose in his mind. He remembered how the blue savage, Sally's wife, had put a dagger to Spider's throat, intending to avenge her son's death. But was Miles guilty of that? Jake, as a father, had failed. The inevitable war, one way or another, would have touched everyone anyway, and the family leader could have ensured that the children would not be involved. But he himself gave the trump cards to the enemy and was punished by fate.

— Are you going to write in your report that the whale is to blame for your failure, too? Or maybe you screwed up strategically after all? — The generaless folded her arms across her chest in displeasure, glaring at recom with her penetrating eyes from beneath her camouflage cap.

Miles turned his head away, looking out the ajar window, and for a few seconds there was silence in the ICU. There, on the base grounds, right on the roof of the warehouse, sat his dark blue banshee. The celestial predator spread her broad wings that dangled gracefully on either side of the roof and brushed out her feathers. Military onlookers passed by, darting away as if she were a demon, but the bird was strikingly calm.

«What devotion» — still marveled the recom.

The irritation was replaced by an unpleasant longing somewhere in the depths of soul. Son. He came to mind again. The boy had chosen to stay with the one who had raised him since he was a baby, even after the demon stepmother had nearly slit his throat. Miles tried to understand his own feelings and inadvertently imagined two different beings struggling inside him.

«You little bugger, all because of you!» — thought the colonel, remembering the face of the furiously snarling Spider.

— I'll make the report very honestly, don't worry, General,— he said, looking at his boss again with a calm look.

— It's not the report I'm worried about, it's your recklessness and stupidity! You've been dragging around with that wild boy and you've let your guard down.

— You're looking in the wrong direction, General. I took Sully by surprise, killed his son. He'll come. He'll want revenge. Then it'll be over quickly.

— Oh, so the result of the defeat is the future? — The man in the suit came back into the conversation. He kept writing something down in a folder. — You sacrificed an entire fleet to eliminate one saboteur? Then how many souls do you need to take out the others? Particularly the leader.

— I don't like the way he looks at me," Miles blurted out, trying to lie down more comfortably, but the pain in his shoulder made him moan painfully.

��� Meet the chief administrator, Mr. Jonathan Bryce, — the general waved to the doctor, pointing to the medicines, and he obediently administered a recurrent dose of painkillers.

Miles shook his head hopelessly and closed his eyelids tiredly. The voices ringing in his head were getting tiresome.

— The last thing I need here is another Selfridge...

— Don't be sarcastic, Colonel. Do you realize why you were sent here again? — asked the man named Bryce, — because I got the impression that you had lost the thread of the narrative in the cases.

— You can't judge a war that isn't over by one lost battle,— Miles immediately retorted, — Sully will come back himself, and this will be our chance to eliminate the bastard.

General Ardmore's face stretched an ironic smile. She spread her arms to her sides and replied:

— You have lost twice, Colonel. Once in that life. The second time in this life.

— Honestly, I don't quite understand what happened in that life, — recom frowned unhappily, shaking his head, — everything seems like some kind of deja vu and only, with some sense of the past. Bryce, tell upstairs that I've been sold a blue marriage.

— And it isn't a marriage at all, Colonel, — the man smiled haughtily, as if hiding something important, and then slammed the file shut.

Miles opened his yellow eyes in bewilderment, and even the general looked questioningly at the RDA representative.

 — What does that mean? What do you mean?

— Tell me, Doctor, how long will the recombinant have to be serviced? — Bryce ignored the colonel's questions.

— With injuries like that it will take at least a week, — replied the medic and scratched the back of his head, unsure of his patient, — sir, it is advisable not to disturb him even now...

Bryce squinted, tapping his fingers on his folder, then looked at the general and said confidently:

— We need him tomorrow.

— Tomorrow?! — The doctor's jaw dropped, — but, sir, it's highly irrational, he... He needs rest and treatment...

— Well, now I know why they tied me up! — Miles laughed out loud, — Doc, you didn't want me to blow somebody's face off, did you?

— You have some special remedy for our colonel, don't you? — Bryce went on asking questions, insisting on his point.

— Yes, but you don't understand...

— Wonderful! - he interrupted the doctor with a satisfied smile on his lips," Then you know how to get him back on his feet.

«What are these bitches hiding?».

***

Time was nearing sunset when Laura took off her disposable work robe and tossed it into a small recycling chamber. At the push of a button, not a trace of the artificially created used fabric was left. The day had been impossibly boring, except for a failed morning jog. Couldn't get that wounded recombinant out of my mind. Big and blue and so adorable that Laura couldn't help but worry about him. Every now and then she wondered if he had survived. She hoped for the best, and didn't have the courage to call the Center. And who on earth would report the well-being of an important RDA recom to an ordinary GP? Laura was sure that even such information remained a secret within the walls of the organization. The recombinant program remained inaccessible to most of the staff: none of the rank-and-file knew about its details, only the creators themselves and the upper ranks of specialists. Laura had heard that every employee touched by the program signed a nondisclosure agreement, and leaking information threatened huge fines and prison. But there were even crazier rumors: a rumor had circulated among a large group that one of the scientists had gone missing after management learned of his entries in a personal diary. He was writing down what he was obliged to keep only in his head, and the RDA thought he might have been passing secret information to the ranks of the enemy. When Laura first heard this story, she only wondered to whom this scientist could have revealed secrets if the RDA had no competitors on Earth for thirty years? They were absolute monopolists. Could the scientist be revealing secrets to the Na'vi clans? But what could they possibly know about it? Or perhaps he was secretly collaborating with Jake Sully himself? Whatever the truth was, Laura didn't believe these tales, and only smiled at such stories.

With an unpleasant heavy weight on her soul due to not knowing the fate of the recom, Laura was about to leave the infirmary, but then she was called at the guardhouse. The operator behind the monitors, named Sam, waved, and the therapist immediately walked over to the counter.

— Let me guess, you mean I'm being left on the night shift again? — Laura leaned her head on her side tiredly.

— Pumpkin, what do you think of me! — laughed the red-haired operator in the black uniform, — Do you really think I only intend to bring you bad news?

— Why? — Asadi stretched out and laughed in response, — it's not bad news at all, I love my job and my patients, it's just that only robots can have no rest.

— I know, I know, you try harder than anyone else, — Sam said as he patted the girl's hair, which fell in a wavy mop of long dark strands to one side as Laura habitually tucked it back and to the side.

— Oh, you sly fox,— she scowled playfully, — just to flatter.

— And you're wrong, not flattery at all, — the guy pulled out of his jacket pocket almost transparent card, handing it directly into the hands of his partner — a name pass of the first level. Passed a few minutes ago. But don't flatter yourself, it's disposable.

Laura opened her eyes in amazement. She twirled the card several times, as if to verify its authenticity. Such passes were issued only to personnel from the RDA Center: scientists, engineers, programmers, elite military and directors. She looked questioningly at Sam, who was smiling, genuinely pleased with her reaction.

— Yeah, yeah, it's right up there. They said the management wants to see you today.

— They did? But... why? — Laura panicked, feeling her cheeks redden as her blood pressure soared — oh God, did I do something wrong? Did I kill the patient? That's right, I killed him!

Sam laughed, throwing his head back and grabbing his stomach.

— Baby, come on, calm down! It's just a request to appear in front of your superiors. Maybe they want to promote you.

— Sam! Promotion? You... — Laura looked at the chart, — Jonathan Bryce? That's the kind of authority given to our chief medical officer so he doesn't have to bother the top for no reason.

— Well, then the head doctor can fire you too, why would Bryce have to write you a pass like that and call you in to see him? — The guard barely calmed down, wiping away the tears that came out of laughter, — God, pumpkin, you're just a miracle, you made my day more fun, I love you...

Laura put her palm to her forehead, herself barely restraining a laugh from her silly reaction. But at times like this, when excitement overwhelmed her, she couldn't help herself. Laura possessed concentration and vigilance only in her work, because she understood that she could not make mistakes as a professional. But in life, this philosophy did not apply.

— I'm sorry, Sam, I... I sometimes lose control... — the therapist took a deep breath and exhaled, looking at the pass again. — It says the time. That's in about twenty minutes. I wonder why I'm being summoned.

— Let's go for a ride, and we'll find out together? — Sam smiled slyly, taking the backpack from the girl and slinging it over his shoulder.

— Are you on a motorcycle? — Laura pressed the pass to her chest.

— That's right, miss!

— That's good, sir! I love the speed!

***

The tailwind blew Laura's curls as she made her way to the main RDA building. Sam was accelerating faster and faster on his motorcycle, and she held him tightly by the waist as she watched the neon lights of the city. On the road, she only wondered why this building was farther away than the others. Almost at the edge of the city towered a tall gate of solid steel, shutting out whatever was going on there from the gawkers. The area looked more like a secret military training ground than a haven for scientists and business directors: endless hangars, armored vehicles, men in uniform, and fighter planes on the roofs. The area was constantly patrolled by guards armed to the teeth. No one could enter the area without a pass, which made Laura uncomfortable. She, a rank-and-file general practitioner, was suddenly given that pass.

«I hope me don't get fired» — the girl thought, resting her chin on Sam's shoulder and looking hopefully ahead at the road. And when the gates of the main building appeared on the horizon, she craned her neck in curiosity and felt her knees tremble.

Sam stopped the motorcycle just inside the security barrier that separated them from the entrance to the compound, ten meters away. The automatic metal detector emitted a distinctive beep, scanning the arrivals with a bright red stripe from bottom to top. Laura pressed her lips together uncertainly, pulling out her precious security badge. Several guards approached with machine guns. One, pointing a machine gun, walked around the arrivals as if looking for something suspicious.

— Good evening, what can we do for you? — one of the men asked, tall, pumped up and tattooed.

— Hello, delivering a guest to Mr. Jonathan Bryce, — Sam smiled friendly, nodding at the passenger in the back.

Laura felt a little uncomfortable holding out her pass to the guard. The man looked at the card, then at her, twisting it in his fingers with disbelief.

— Laura-Anastasia Asadi? — he asked in a clarifying manner to

— Yes, sir...

The second gunman's walkie-talkie crackled and he asked into the microphone:

— This is the central station speaking. Requesting validity of badge twelve thirty — two for time twenty-one zero zero. Do you copy?

— I confirm it's up to date, — a soft, female voice answered, — Let through.

Laura bit her lip with the excitement that overwhelmed her trembling soul. She looked ahead at the massive gate, imagining what everything looked like there, for she had never had to be here before. Curiosity scrambled like cats. And the guard lowered his weapon and only nodded his head forward, letting his guest through. Sam wanted to follow, leaving the bike with the guard, but he was immediately stopped by a hand.

— You can't. No pass, — the tattooed man said.

— And who's going to show her where to go? — Sam with a wave of his hands.

— Go to the gate, miss, — the guard turned to Laura, — they'll meet you there and escort you to your office.

Asadi nodded obediently and, after saying goodbye to Sam who winked at her, moved toward the gate. There she was met by a second group of guards and a screening system. She was asked to have her fingerprints and retina scanned. The access card was told to be kept until she left the building, and after that it would no longer be valid.

Laura was finally led onto the grounds. She opened her mouth in amazement, convinced she was right. A veritable military training ground. Armored vehicles, fighters, robot mechanics, and people in uniform. Several soldiers passed by in three-meter-long exoskeleton suits, raising a column of gravel dust into the air. The therapist coughed, brushing the dust off her face.

«Wow!» — she wondered.

— Miss Asadi? — A woman's voice was heard from behind, and the girl turned around to see a servicewoman in outfit.

— Huh? Yes, it's me... — Laura was confused.

— Come on, I'll accompany you to the boss's office. He's already waiting for you. Is this your first time here?

— Yes, I've never visited this building before. Tell me, why are there so many military men here? — Laura was curious, looking around with the gaze of a keen tourist.

— The war, — answered the girl briefly. — Several new regiments and units have arrived.

— Is it really that bad?

— Miss Asadie, the military is not just here to perform its direct tasks. We employ hundreds of men every day for various jobs. You don't have to worry, everything's under control.

«I want to believe it» — Laura thought, wrapping her arm tentatively around herself.

It was harder to breathe in here. There was so much dust and mechanical odor in the air that her throat became dry. With every step she took, she swallowed a lump across her throat and coughed. It seemed that the mask wasn't enough. But once inside, Asadi forgot all about air: the mask could finally be removed. Bright holograms dazzled her eyes. A group of operators was working on something, even though there were many people in military uniforms in the main hall. The monitors glowed with numerous scans of the terrain: soaring mountains, the sea, and some parts of the forested area. Laura turned her attention to the image of fallen centuries-old trees engulfed in flames. They must have been blown down quite recently by volleys of missiles. The girl casually shuddered.

— Sector Five, attention, deal with a herd of direhorse. The distance is six meters, we need a clear path to the mines, — one of the operators muttered lazily into his earpiece.

— They're really close, — the other smiled and shook his head, — I guess they're used to it.

— If the second shift stops feeding them, there won't be a problem.

— We'd better put it in the report, see if it helps.

Laura, stopping behind the cameramen, stared into the monitor where the image of the horses was transmitted and smiled as she watched several cubs frolicking beside the road. She didn't even notice the servicewoman walk to the elevator and call out to her several times.

— Please keep up, Miss Asadi, it's easy to get lost here, — the uniformed conductor warned as she pressed the button for the top floor.

Laura felt the familiar excitement again, only now, on top of everything else, her heart was jumping out of her chest: she could hear it pounding in her ears. To calm herself down, she had to take a bottle of water out of her backpack and take a few sips, but it was in vain - the water had time to heat up and was not tasty. Laura relied on her self-control, so as not to look like a pathetic, intimidated rabbit to her superiors. A long corridor, wide windows of offices and people in business clothes. Now she felt herself outside the military training ground. The top floor turned out to be exactly what she imagined the entire building to be.

— We're here, Miss Asadi, Mr. Bryce is waiting for you, — the girl guide stopped at the main translucent door, where you could see several people: one in a black suit, another in a military uniform.

Laura straightened her back and cleared her throat, nervously adjusting her loose curls. Her cheeks lit up with a treacherous blush. She couldn't hide her excitement; she always had a hard time with any lie.

— Thank you for seeing her off, — the therapist said.

— You're welcome. Come in, don't be shy, — the military woman opened the door, inviting her guest in.

Laura entered the office. Attention was immediately drawn to her. Jonathan Bryce turned around at the sound of the doors opening and immediately smiled when he saw the girl. Standing next to him, General Ardmore folded her arms across her chest.

— So you are Miss Asadi? — asked the head administrator and invited the guest to sit down.

— Yes, Mr. Bryce, I'm a general practitioner, I work in the city clinic, — Laura modestly squared her shoulders and sat down in a cushioned chair. She suddenly felt dirty and clumsy, as if a homeless person had been brought into a rich house.

— I remember you on the first day of your stay, you arrived as part of the third crew, didn't you? Serviced the frozen staff? — The Generaless stepped back to the window, observing what was going on outside.

— That's right, — Laura quickly mumbled with excitement and only then realized that this was the answer of the soldiers, but the generaless apparently found it amusing: she smiled at her succinct military answer along with Bryce. — I was twenty when I was accepted into the program, and I was twenty-five when the ship arrived on Pandora.

— I'm still new here and had no idea there were precious diamonds on the staff. A young beautiful girl, and a talented therapist too! — Jonathan splashed his hands in admiration and went to the coffee machine with three cups. — Not many people at such a young age are able to achieve intergalactic flight... Tell me, what is your secret?

Laura was confused at the question, ran her eyes around and answered tensely:

— I just got lucky... When I applied, I didn't count on anything at all, but I heard that the RDAs prefer young professionals, those who can work hard and diligently, and those who are far away from retirement...

— You really are a long way from her, — laughed the General, and Laura smiled modestly, dropping her gaze to the floor. — You're good. Mr. Bryce, you don't know yet, but this girl has already proved herself. When there was an accident on board, thanks to Miss Asadi's ingenuity, she managed to keep the frozen in their original state. She manually kept the capsules at the correct temperature for several hours while the damage was repaired. Had it not been for her idea with the tubes and the pump, we would have lost people.

— Thanks, but I was just doing my duty and listening to the head doctor, — Laura couldn't hold back a modest smile, she wasn't often praised by such big men as four-star General Francis Ardmore.

— Look at you, shy, too! — Bryce put a cup of hot coffee on the table in front of the guests. — Miss Asadi, you shouldn't be modest, you should be proud of your success and talent! After all, we invited you to express our sincere gratitude to you personally for not allowing our recombinant to perish.

Laura looked up, full of hope at the chief administrator.

— Had he survived? Is he all right?

— Thanks to your vigilance. A few more minutes and we would have lost him.

— Wow... — Laura whispered faintly to herself, tucking the unruly curls behind her ears and sighing in relief. — And I thought you were going to fire me...

— No, miss, — Bryce shook his head, taking a sip from his mug of coffee drink, — it's specialists like you that the RDA needs. Right now the ten-mile bridgehead has two million inhabitants. Most of them are military personnel, medics, scientists and engineers. But very soon, thanks to people like you and me, the city will blossom.

— You will help us to do it, won't you? - The general winked at the visitor from under her cap.

Laura smiled:

— With what I can, of course...

— Sure you can, — Bryce reached into his desk locker, pulled out another pass card, and placed it in front of the therapist. — To thank you for saving our precious recombinant, I invite you to a business dinner. There won't be many guests, but I'll introduce you to our leading scientists and specialists. We will decide where to place you, closer to the main control center.

Asadi's jaw dropped. She took the ID card with trembling fingers and clapped her eyes in amazement. It was too sudden. The unexpectedness struck at the heart, making her mentally tremble and rejoice, and outwardly just sit in a stupor at such a generous invitation from the chief administrator. She had never been to a social event before, especially to meet the cream of society. And the cream of society on Pandora was considered to be the famous talented scientists, military men, and engineers. It was an honor for Laura to meet them. It seemed as if a captivating dream had plunged her into a reverie.

— Mr. Bryce, thank you, that's... Thank you, Mr. Bryce, I would be honored to accept such an invitation... — ...Laura repeated the boss's name several times with excitement.

— We'll bring the car to your place of residence. And to make it less exciting for you, this pass can be used by two people, take someone with you to make it safer, — said General Ardmore, putting a reassuring hand on the girl's shoulder.

Laura smiled through tears of undisguised joy.

— Thank you, thank you very much...

***

— Not a bad girl, — the general stated as she and the administrator descended into the catacomb system beneath the RDA main building. A spiral metal staircase stretched down four meters, illuminated by wall-mounted neon lights. The air here was cold and musty, with a touch of medication: an unpleasant but harmless bitterness lodged in my throat.

Bryce followed the general downstairs, grabbing a protective, see-through jumpsuit with black gloves from a rack and pulling it over his business suit.

— Funny, it made me smile. I can't remember the last time someone lifted my spirits...

— Is that why you invited her to dinner, so she could keep... to keep you amused?

— I just wanted to thank for saving the colonel, that's all. I didn't expect to see such a pretty girl in the GP ranks. I'd have to go to that clinic and see if I'd be surprised.

— You can't put your finger in your mouth, Jonathan...

— I can't resist a young exotic! — Bryce laughed as he followed the general down the narrow corridor.

At the end was a massive iron door, more like a bank vault door. Inside, under the bright lights, among the chemicals and medical equipment, a group of scientists in protective, see-through jumpsuits and masks labored, observing the subjects and their reactions. Desperate cries echoed through the lab from the sealed chamber. Jonathan opened his mouth in amazement as he walked around the side of the chamber, standing in front of a thick armored window in the floor.

— Is this exactly what you told me about? — the receptionist asked with admiration.

— Yes, sir. We're still just at the beginning stage, but I think by the end of the week we'll have a result that will satisfy us.

— And we can start the cleanup as early as next week? Are you sure about that?

— Absolutely, — said one of the scientists, who approached the administrator and extended his hand in a friendly black rubber glove.

Jonathan shook the man's hand and, clearing his throat, asked:

— What exactly did you come up with? So far all I can see is a squirming blue primate. And, I don't get it, is that our recom?

— Retired, sir, — the general clarified. — One of the surviving recoms from Quaritch's group. Arrived at the base a couple of hours before the colonel. Failed, but will be able to serve in a different way now.

— On the basis of a neurotoxin, which is used by local humanoids, we managed to develop a unique powder mixture, — began to explain the scientist, not paying attention to the cries of the experimenter. — The spraying range of this crystalline substance may be small — five meters, if you wish — but the result will not disappoint you. Besides, the poisoning affects not only the fauna, but also the flora, which is consumed by the na'vi.

Lieutenant Lyle Wainfleet clenched his fists to the point of pain, trying to break free of the steel shackles. The collars around his ankles, hands, and neck squeezed his flesh tightly, preventing him from moving even a couple of centimeters. His blue naked body shuddered now and then in spasms of unbearable pain. The only thing left was to cry out desperately, hoping that at least someone would hear him from above and help him out of his torment. But the torture continued. The white gas came from the pipe every five minutes with an increased dosage.

— I'll kill you scum! I'll kill you! — Lyle screamed, baring bloody fangs like a hunted predator.

[cheesus-doodles]

The Flag We Serve Under: Chapter 2

Yandere Azur Lane

Masterlist

‎‎

<< Chapter 1

thank you all for your interest and patience in this little series! I hope you enjoy!

The loud blare of your phone ringing nearly gave you a heart attack as it shocked you straight back into reality from what was an unusually restful sleep. Hands automatically shooting out in a blind attempt to grab at the offending object -  the same way you did every morning - though instead of finding yourself in the warm embrace of your comfortable bed, you tumbled out of your chair with a loud thud, a whirlwind of disturbed papers flying up from your desk and falling gracefully to the ground. “H-huh? What?” The warm wooden surfaces and neat shelves of books and files that surrounded you looked foreign to groggy eyes; where were you? Who were you?

For a moment, the world seemed restless, uneasy, before the next blare of your phone shook you from your trance-like state, and the memories came flooding back. Yes - you remembered now. The previous day's shenanigans at Naval HQ, sailing with Alabama across the deep blue open ocean for the first time in forever, watching the sun set below the horizon from the port window right above your desk; it seemed like you had once more managed to walk away from another counter with your commanding officer, though you had to admit you were definitely worse for the wear this time. 

Your phone protested again, the third insistent ring nudging you into finally picking up, the reluctance all the more clear when you noted it was that asshat of an officer you reported to whose name was plastered across your screen. “Hello?”

There was no greeting from the barking voice on the other end, instead just more orders, more work, handed down from the top and relayed through the small black phone. As expected. You automatically tuned most of the harsh words out as you usually do, focusing on the actual actions that you needed to take; yet as the voice kept coming, the sleepiness instantly drained from your mind, your eyebrows furrowing more and more with every word conveyed. None of this was good news, not at all. “Yes, sir.” Your voice was clear and firm even as your thoughts whirled. More girls being shifted under your command? The Sakura Empire asking to deal directly with you?

What on earth was going on?

“Make sure you don’t mess this up,” Your superior warned, but you could tell this was far more dire situation than any superficial paperwork disaster - the Sakura Empire had broken off from Azur Lane to pursue Siren technology by themselves after all, and neither you nor Naval HQ could tell what they wanted with you. One wrong step could bring the infighting to a whole new level. All you could do was bite your tongue - this wasn’t the right time nor the right person to ask the multitude of questions rushing through your thoughts. 

Yet there was one that you couldn’t resist asking, that no matter how much you tried to hold it down, it still managed to slip out almost unconsciously. “But sir, why now?” Why transfer more to your fleet when it was clear that the top dogs at HQ had not been particularly happy with your performance? Why did the Sakura Empire want to speak with you now? Why you? 

Your commanding officer went silent for a heartbeat, then two, with just the sound of his heavy breathing being picked up and transmitted; from a lack of a better answer or from the loaded question, you didn’t know. But before you could get your answer, your ears picked up the sound of footsteps - numerous sets, if you had to guess - thundering down the deck and growing louder as they approached your makeshift office. The thick bomb-proof steel door flew open with a bang, a toss of white hair swept back in her tailwind as Alabama rushed into the room, usually sleepy crimson eyes frantically scanning the small room, landing on you where you were still seated on the ground. “Commander! Are you okay? What happened?”

There was an instant blast of fresh salty air to your face that rushed through the open door. It was a shame that all the man on the other side of the ocean muttered was that he would ‘get you the information you needed’ before hanging up in a jiffy. Even if he was your superior and wasn’t afraid to treat you like dirt, you knew that most of the members of the staff at Naval HQ feared having to deal directly with the shipgirls, especially with Alabama in particular; the youngest of the Dakota-class sisters was notorious for her mood swings when it came to you after all. Tucking your work phone back into the pocket of your skirt, you gratefully accepted Alabama’s help to stand, straightening out your uniform once you were back on your own two feet right as Helena stepped cautiously through the doorway. “I’m fine. Thank you, Alabama, Helena. Just some morning grogginess.” 

Instead of settling your jumpy subordinates, it only seemed to arouse more suspicion in your tanned friend, red eyes narrowing at you. “Grogginess?” She repeated skeptically, her hand, twitching as if it was trying to resist grabbing you, instead disappearing inside her coat. “Like pregnancy grogginess?”

“No, no. Just awoken at the wrong time I suppose.” You patted your skirt where your phone was. “Duty calls.” You made a mental note to your future self to never find out how those under your charge would react if you actually got pregnant. Or if you ever had a boyfriend. Absolutely not.

Helena bent over to gingerly retrieve your cap, lightly dusting it off before handing it back to you. “Was it him?” She asked quietly, her blue hair still shimmering from salt crystals still clinging to individual strands - remnants of her time spent skating across the ocean. If you recall the schedule correctly, the Brooklyn-class cruiser must have rushed over right as her patrol ended.

“Unfortunately. On the bright side, I do have some updates. Could you gather everyone on the bridge in an hour please, Alabama?”

Said girl gave a curt nod, and you smiled in thanks. “Well in that case, I shall excuse myself back to my quarters.” But the crinkle of paper from the ground caught your attention once more, and you grimaced. You had completely forgotten about those; seems like your steaming shower and fresh uniform would have to wait a little longer.

‎‎

‎‎

“I wonder who is joining our fleet?” Aylwin wondered out loud as she lifted another spoonful of rice and vegetables to her mouth. Despite not having to eat food like you did, you had always insisted that the girls stick to a regular schedule and take a break during lunch time; whether they wanted to have something to munch on was something you left up to their decision, but you had always made food available for them. 

“Maybe we’ll meet some from other factions?” Baltimore suggested, which got a few nods from the eight shipgirls gathered around the table. “The Royal Navy and Dragon Empery are part of the Azur Lane too.” 

The mess hall aboard Alabama’s manifested ship was as worn as the rest of the ship, metal surfaces decorated with a generous litter of surface scratches from being thoroughly scrubbed clean countless numbers of times. Several pictures - of land and home and the vast ocean - decorated the walls, frames nailed firmly to keep them from moving as the ship cut through calm and rough waves alike. Several plates of food lined the center of the cloth-covered bench, a small luxury she knew that was allowed to them only while under your command; Alabama had heard enough of the horror stories from others suffering under less competent Commanders.

“I’m hoping it's the Grey Ghost,” Ranger leaned over the table, her volume dropping like she was . “Went on a mission with her previously before I was redeployed here, but never had a chance to sit and chat with her. She’s always so busy.”

But Alabama remained quiet, staring down at her cup of undrunk and rapidly cooling coffee and allowing the chatter to flow around and over her; she knew you better than the back of her own hand, and it was obvious that whatever that shithead of a commanding officer said to you, it wasn’t just to announce the expansion of your fleet. 

‎‎

Just thirty minutes prior, the eight of them hadn’t been seated casually around a dining table, instead having gathered on the bridge as per instructed. “Thank you all for gathering.” Standing at the head of the bridge, the endless sea glittered under the afternoon sun far below you outside the window, stretching out past the horizon like an enormous sequin blanket. “There’s been some news with regards to our fleet. Because of the increasing Siren threat in our sector and hence the expanding workload, word from Naval HQ is that we will have some new ships that will be joining our fleet.” You announced.

Excited whispers were instantly abound among the rest, but the tanned battleship’s slightly narrowed eyes were fixed on you and that soft smile you wore. It was just as it sounded: a mask that you put on in front of them. She could see it as clear as neon lights in the middle of the night on the empty ocean surface, even if you were trying your best to hide in the shadows that the sunlight cast. You always tried to physically hide when you had something to hide from there, from her; it was just the way you were after all.

“Do we know who’s joining?” Helena queried softly amidst the chaos, yet you still caught it regardless, smiling back at the blue-haired girl. 

“No information has been given on that, but I’ll give an update once Naval HQ comes back with more.”

Then you opened your mouth, as if to say more, only to snap it shut, your eyebrows furrowing - all quietly observed by Alabama. In a split second, it was gone, and taking a deep breath to compose yourself, she watched as your lips quirked up once more, your gaze lifting to meet theirs once more. The Commander mask was back on. “That’s all for now. You’re dismissed, please go have your break.”

You adjusted your cap, turning away to continue to pour over a map as your small fleet filed out, the thick steel door closing with a light thud behind them.

‎‎

And that was all. Were fresh faces really important enough to worth rudely waking you from your sleep and a personal call from that monkey brain of a commanding officer? Sure, with an expanding fleet meant new things to worry about, new people to keep at a distance from you, but… There was something else - more important, more urgent, more secretive - that you didn’t want to tell them, or that you couldn’t tell them about, and Alabama wasn’t having it. What if it was a threat to your safety? What if it got between you and her? What if it threatened her getting oathed to you? What if -

“Helloooo. Earth to Alabama.”

The white-haired battleship blinked, looking up from her cup, seven pairs of varied colored eyes looking curiously back at her. “...You alright?” Indianapolis piped up, blue and yellow heterochromatic eyes glancing her way. What if there was another person in the picture?

Her reply was curt, as it always was. “Yes, I’m fine.” Red eyes glanced out the nearest round window, and the conversation was over. But the others were used to the battleship’s sullen attitude especially when it came to you, and the chatter resumed as if it didn’t stop. She would speak when she was ready.

‎‎

‎‎

An ocean away, yellow eyes looked longingly out across the same blue seas, the horizon hidden behind the shutters of the blinds that hung in front of her pavilion, though the twitch of a brown fox ear returned her attention back to the two girls prostrated in front of her. “Raise your heads, Akagi, Kaga. Please go ahead with your report.”

“We have…made contact with Naval Headquarters, Nagato-sama, and conveyed our requests. They have agreed that only she will be sent for the negotiations.”

Commander…Nagato couldn’t hide the excited swish of her ears at the thought of seeing you - of meeting you - again after so many years apart, and it was obvious that Akagi had similar sentiments even as Kaga remained oblivious: the younger fox sister had never met you before, let alone had the chance to serve under your command. Were you still the same person she remembered? Or had you changed? Had they already ripped and damaged that soft heart of yours? “And?”

The white-haired aircraft carrier spoke up as the older of the two sisters fell silent, crystal blue eyes respectfully raising to land on her. “But they wouldn’t let her come without an escort present throughout. It was something they insisted on.”

Not all good news then it seems. “Who is the escort?” Nagato’s voice, though childlike, carried with it the might and authority of the Sakura Empire, strong and decisive.

“It has not yet been decided.”

A moment of silence as the petite black-haired battleship mulled over the new information, small fists gripping the silky red fabric of her dress. The gold ornaments that decorated her hair glittered in the little sunlight that filtered through. Should they insist again on you coming alone? Or perhaps they should compromise on a neutral-grounds meeting so that you would come alone? It was too early to make the decision right now, not with the gaps that they still had. “Any movement from the Iron Blood?”

“No. At least not in the seas around us.”

Nagato nodded. “Then we shall wait until Naval Headquarters returns with the escort details before we make our decision.”

“Understood, Nagato-sama.”

“Dismissed.”

Watching Akagi and Kaga’s silhouettes disappear down the steps, the leaves rustled softly in the light afternoon breeze; another peaceful afternoon.  After all, in the grand scheme of things, what was a few more days to wait?  She sighed, elegantly lifting the steaming cup of green tea to her lips and taking a sip. Still, she couldn’t quite find enough patience at the thought of returning to you. 

‎‎

‎‎

It took another week for the small fleet with you onboard to steam back to base; despite the shipgirls being able to travel far greater distances in much shorter times by skating across the surface of the ocean, their manifested ships were much slower in comparison. You spend most of the time locked away in your office, reading and re-reading through reports and training exercises and documents - there were still a great many things you didn’t know, and you were determined to find out, to hell if Naval HQ allowed it or not. It was your girls’ lives on the line every time they sailed out to meet the Sirens after all, and you would not let them go face first into the unknown. The few times you left were to catch a breath of fresh air on the deck of Alabama’s ship and for a quick rest in your quarters; and before you realized, your small fleet was back home, pulling into a familiar port. 

But all was not as you had left it, with the once-sparse docks now occupied with a mix of known and unknown ships of all types and builds; destroyers, cruisers, battleships and aircraft carriers that spanned the various nations making up the Azur Lane. You had to admit that the percentage of ships present that you didn’t know was far greater than the ones you did, and it blew your mind that headquarters would send so many in one go. Weren’t they the ones that constantly complained of your lack of aptitude for the job?

As Alabama’s battleship came to a groaning halt, there was nothing more you could do but to steel your resolve. It didn’t matter if you could or could not do this, you simply had to. Pulling and straightening your skirt down and adjusting your hat in the mirror again, you took a deep breath, wrenching open your office door and stepping out into the gentle morning sun.

‎

tags: @lexthetiredstudent, @bbbexee

[chromaji]

Can I see some of your unit set ups so I may judge them

I try to shuffle around members of teams every once in a while so I can be shocked when one team ends up operating like hot booty butt ass on in next battle so I have to change them around again experiment with different setups and skill combinations, keeping things pretty interesting. Basically right now my teams aren't at all my optimal ones.

But maybe now's a good time to talk about my Arena Defense team since they remain set. I like them :]

An Arrow Rain focused team, with Mikaela (Druid) running the White Cat Ears to insta-charge Delia (Shieldshooter)'s Arrow Rain. Delia has high initiative with 2 feathers so she can start charging before people start dying. Ginny (Sergeant) uses Keen Call on Delia for AoE crit of course.

For Phase 1, basically anything before Arrow Rain:

Franz (Swordmaster) & Sága (Fencer) can usually keep the team alive through various ways til then. Franz's preemptive strike may land a kill on an enemy's squishier frontliner, or he may use Phantom Blade on an Amored unit to chunk a lot of their health. Sága may activate Sylph Barrier for someone, or she and Franz may just outright dodge/parry attacks that come their way.

Then comes the Arrow Rain + Cat Ears + Keen Edge + L + Ratio, whenever it happens.

That's Phase 1, which ends a lot of fights. But not every opponent's gonna fall to an Arrow Rain. Mainly any bulky or armored units.

If Phase 2 is needed, it's usually led by Sága. Unfortunately, 6 times out of 10, Franz usually gets mixed during any post-Arrow Rain combat. I've considered putting Franz in the back row, but I worry for Delia potentially dying before Arrow Rain goes off. So sometimes we just gotta let him fall😔

Anyway, since the units alive tend to have at least 1 physically tanky unit, Sága shines with her lightning+stuns! I dont remember if she even has Nature's Wrath set up. Probably.

Thanks to Ginny's Active Gift, Sága also gets an extra point of AP. Ginny's pretty versatile as expected, so she can take out an enemy or two as well. She's even got the Flame Javelin iirc.

Delia can help against armors or magic tanks with Toxic Bolt, and help Sága get the next move with tailwind. Mikaela pulls a defense debuff so the team can really bring down whoever's left.

Since Phase 1 is pretty formulaic, here's how a Phase 2 can go:

And Delia ending the fight with Medical Aid can help the team just a bit in reaching a higher HP% than the enemy if the battle ended pretty evenly.

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

How Brazil’s Lula added a spring to Xi Jinping’s step 

Reducing the dollar’s dominance in global commerce has been a top goal for China

For Xi Jinping, last week was easily among the best the Chinese leader has had in a long while.

First, French President Emmanuel Macron dropped by to talk up the merits of Europe forging a diplomatic path independent of the US. For good measure, Macron gave Beijing the impression Paris isn’t keen on coming to Taiwan’s defense should conflict break out.

Then it was Brazilian President Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva’s turn to make global headlines at Washington’s expense. Lula visited Huawei Technologies, a target of US sanctions. He also entertained Xi’s ceasefire in Ukraine, one Washington has roundly dismissed.

Yet the real tailwind Lula brought to town relates to Xi’s long-held desire to reduce the role of the US dollar.

While visiting Shanghai, Lula urged fellow BRICS economies – Brazil, Russia, India, China and South Africa – to accelerate efforts to supplant the dollar in global trade and finance. He said the BRICS-created New Development Bank should take the lead in wrestling financial power away from Washington.

“Why can’t an institution like the BRICS Bank have a currency to finance trade relations between Brazil and China, between Brazil and all the other BRICS countries?” Lula asked. “Who decided that the dollar was the [trade] currency after the end of gold parity?”

It was music to Xi’s ears. Reducing the dollar’s dominance in global commerce has been a top goal since 2012, when Xi first rose to power. Since then, China has made steady inroads toward increasing the yuan’s use in transactions, payments and bond issuances – including Russian and Saudi Arabian oil sales.

Continue reading.

[handwerkstatt]

Peter Fox - Haus am See (official Video)

I was born here and I walk the streets! Know the faces, every house and every shop! I have to go, I know every pigeon here by name. Thumbs out, I'm waiting for a chic woman with a fast car. The sun blinds everything flies by. And the world behind me is getting smaller. But the world in front of me was made for me, hmm I know she's waiting and I'll pick her up! I've got the day on my side, I've got a tailwind! A women's choir on the side of the road singing for me! I lean back and look into the deep blue Close your eyes and just walk straight ahead. And at the end of the street there is a house by the lake. Orange tree leaves lie on the path. I have 20 children my wife is beautiful. Hmm everyone comes by I never have to go out. seen in a dream The house at the lake I am looking for a new country with unknown roads, Strange faces and nobody knows my name! Win everything in the game with marked cards. Losing it all, God has a hard left hook. I dig up treasures in the snow and sand. And women drive me crazy! But at some point I got lucky, hmm And come back with both pockets full of gold. I invite the old birds and relatives, ou And everyone starts crying with joy. We grill, the mums cook and we drink schnapps. And party every night for a week. And the moon shines bright on my lake house. Orange tree leaves lie on the path. I have 20 kids my wife is beautiful hmm Everyone comes by I never have to go out. seen in a dream The house at the lake And at the end of the street there is a house by the lake. Orange tree leaves lie on the path. I have 20 kids my wife is beautiful hmm Everyone comes by I never have to go out. I was born here, I will be buried here. I have deaf ears, a white beard and sit in the garden. My 100 grandchildren play cricket on the lawn. When I think about it, I really can't wait

[loiswolf]

Day 35 July 3 Watrous - Raymore 95kms

Last nights motel was really good as was their breakfast. It’s the first time I’ve come across a pancake machine. You just press the ‘OK’ button an a minute later 2 freshly cooked pancakes roll out the end onto your plate. I’ve never seen one of those before. Awesome! Of course I took mine back to my room and loaded it up with fruit, yoghurt, then topped it off with maple syrup. Delicious!

I slept better than usual last night. Probably because I didn’t have to get up in the middle of the night to turn off a noisy air conditioner. I was able to open the window for a change and let the cool air in.

So after a sleep in and great breakfast , departure was delayed until 9….perfect for todays distance. Straight out of Watrous I had to turn south and ride 18kms with the wind coming from the side. It was a bit tough but I managed to maintain an average speed. It’s unpleasant just having the wind roaring in your ears and trying to keep the bike running in an almost straight line.

When I reached the left turn it was amazing! Instantly quiet and the speed picked up considerably. I’ve been watching a Netflix series on the 2022 Tour de France. Those guys are just incredible and make me feel a bit inadequate. But riding that road today with the strong tailwind gave me just a taste of what it might be like to ride at those speeds. I’m sure I completed the next 31kms to Nokomis quicker than the first 18.

This picture is not to torment my sister with photos of derelict houses, it’s an attempt to show you how strong the wind was blowing the grass.

I have taken a video I’ll put on Facebook if you want to have a look. You can’t post videos on tumblr.

So 51kms to Nokomis was the perfect place for a break today. Searching google maps I had found a cafe called Kuans. The town was a little underwhelming

and cafe very simple. Judy ( the lovely proprietor) admitted to not having any sweets, only pie in the freezer. I was happy to sit with a coffee and sneakily eat the chocolate muffin from breakfast. Judy started a conversation about my cycling after I’d been there a while and I found out a few things about her. She and her husband came from China 13 years ago and have been running the cafe ever since.

I knew I had another 10kms of side wind to contend with once I left Nokomis so I wasn’t in any hurry to leave. Eventually I forced myself back outside and struggled through the next 10kms until the turn left, where once again, I experienced a huge relief. Only 34kms of wind assisted easy cycling on a good road without any traffic.

I stopped to take this photo because I thought the green and gold looked striking with the clouds in the background.

Raymore appeared exactly on cue and I turned to the right to find my next motel. This one is called Westview Motel. It’s another good one although it doesn’t quite match yesterday’s stay.

Tomorrow is a longer day but hopefully not too much for my knees ( the other one is starting to protest at having to take on the extra load from the right knee) since I’ll have the wind with me again. Yay!! While I have the wind I’ll keep going. 😁

[applemangoluna]

Tailwind ♪ Ear Candy Jazz Factory [Tangerine Peel Jam No.1] https://t.co/uUnroCNRYt #NowPlaying #NP #Music #音楽 #iTunes #YouTube

Tailwind ♪ Ear Candy Jazz Factory [Tangerine Peel Jam No.1] https://t.co/uUnroCNRYt #NowPlaying #NP #Music #音楽 #iTunes #YouTube

— Luna Otohara 音原瑠菜👩‍🦯 (@applemango) Mar 14, 2023

from Twitter Luna Otohara 音原瑠菜@全盲の音楽好き March 15, 2023 at 05:07AM Tailwind ♪ Ear Candy Jazz Factory [Tangerine Peel Jam No.1] https://t.co/uUnroCNRYt #NowPlaying #NP #Music #音楽 #iTunes #YouTube

[burntfleurs]

// dragon.

Would the king have received his word by now?

It was a question the rider pondered to himself whilst sailing on dragonback, his course set for the Northland. Above the clouds with nothing but the tailwind, the suns and the monolithic beast which he rode upon, it was almost a peaceful day. Today something aside from dull futility had set itself into his gut, replacing it with a rush. For the first time in a near decade, if not longer, Alexei Djolran, the former Commander of the Rider’s Order, was excited about something.

He was to meet with his once sworn enemy, the very king who had carried out the brutal executions of his allies. Aquilat’äq Khélek, the first of his name, the successor to the draakvor. Born of the winter storm, with a temper like the treacherous mountainside blizzard. Try as he may to stay in his decade of solitude in hiding, Ser Djolran longed to see for himself if the king's recent word had been true. Having nothing left to lose and the advantage of Luxem’s last known dragon, it was only natural that his boredom had him pack up and start the journey. After all, the bastard had managed to betroth himself to a future Queen... Alexei had to know what it was all about. Was the realm about to change for the good, finally, forever? Had he truly wanted the rider back on his side? The gods only knew.

He looked down at Viseri’ith. Massive as he was, each scale glittered like obsidian beneath the two suns. Many an arrow had failed to pierce his hide, his wingspan stretching for nearly seventy five yards wing to wing. He was the only survivor of the king’s cruelty. Even Ilye Djolran, his wife, had perished at his hand. Falnik had been her dragon, lithe and golden. She had fallen too, executed before the masses as her rider took her last breath. His heart twisted with the memory, a scowl befitting his weathered face.

Stop thinking of it. Of them. It distracts me. Viseri’ith growled, his demand harsh.

Fix my mind upon something else, then, he retorted, shifting forward in his seat between the dragon’s shoulder spines. Viseri’ith didn’t answer, and the rider lapsed into silence. His mind almost wandered back into painful territory, remembering her clear blue eyes, and her golden hair. Of the words she never finished speaking in his dreams.

Shut... up!

He was disturbed at once by the dragon lurching forward and down, wings folded to his body as they plummeted. The wind screamed past his ears and he leaned forward. Alexei’s stomach flipped and jumped up into his throat alongside his fast beating heart, taken off-guard by Viseri’ith’s sudden maneuver. It was one he was familiar with, letting out a giddy war cry. Down they gracefully fell, breaking through the cloud cover and arcing towards the open ocean. The waves were unwelcoming and choppy, the air misty and salty with the sea.

The dragon’s snout nearly touched the water before he banked upward and steadied out, his talons skimming the surface. Great wings opened up, carrying him back to the skies. Alexei’s ears rushed with adrenaline, raising a fist to the sky with another cry of joy. How he’d missed this, the memories of him and his dragon in valiant combat before the darkness had swept his happiness away. He had every right to rise to meet the challenge of securing bonds with a once-tyrant, closing the book on a chapter that never stopped plaguing him. There was nothing in the world like the pleasure of riding on dragonback, and his companion always knew when to remind him of it. After a lifetime together, it was only natural.

The dragon glided on the wind comfortably now, his wingbeats steady as they began to approach distant lands.

Good enough for you? The dragon challenged, bringing a weary smile to his face. He patted his hide with a soft laugh, heartbeat slowing.

Well done, old friend.

Alexei recognized the coastline and the pebbled beaches; this was no doubt the Falhar-Nix border. He sat up in the saddle for a better look, watching the withered trees and remnants of autumn give way to eternal winter, tundra littered with clusters of thick conifer forests and the odd village. Windmere City was not far from here now, at the Northernmost point of the country. The rider settled in to enjoy the last bits of scenery that he could, anticipation mounting the closer they got. He began to recognize landmarks, drawing nearer to the city and its stonewall castle by the second.

Presently, Alexei looked to the horizon, and there it was. Windmere City, a garrison style village patrolled by the king's forces and managed by Northern merchants. The bazaar was densely packed today, but all faces turned skyward when the dragon's shadow fell upon the land. Viseri'ith's bellow echoed in the mountains themselves, announcing their arrival and simultaneously striking fear into many a heart. The crowd they'd flown over gawked in awe, many of them running back among the streets to their homes.

The dragon flew over the castle, banking left in a spiral as they descended to the Pavilion, a place once full of dragons and their riders, carrying out drills and messages from all over the kingdom. Now it seemed to be an observatory for the scholars, telescopes and star maps drawn over its white stone. A welcoming party stood waiting. When the two landed, Ser Djolran's eyes met with those of his enemy. He dismounted as the King and his waiflike woman entered the Pavilion, joining the Kingsguard and the Council.

Alexei's feet met the ground with a thud, and his dragon stared like an impressive statue, expectant, waiting.

The time had come.

[bunny584]

For I Have Sinned

“Let no one say when he is tempted, ‘I am being tempted by God’ For God cannot be tempted by evil.” James 1:13.

But Father Geto can be. 

Newly appointed Chaplain of the Noble Court, Suguru is a reformed sinner. Sanctity, discipline and celibacy are commandments of his choosing. A devout servant of the Lord. Armored with the Breastplate of Righteousness, the Shield of Faith. 

This should be sufficient enough to withstand temptation. 

Right? 

Pairing: Geto x Female reader 

C/W: Religious themes, dark romance, eventual filth. 18+. MDNI. 

A/N: Holy hell. Anon, you sick, twisted genius. You, the puppeteer. Me, the puppet who writes. This one — this story might be the one. Frothing at the mouth to know what you guys think. Going on AO3 for sure. I haven’t decided if I will keep this long fic series here, but since it was an anon ask its only right to honor them with the first chapter. 

Art credit: @ potchi_jpg on X

Music: Garden Kisses x Giveon (this was on a manic repeat for at least an hour. It wrote the chapter. I implore you to listen and levitate like I did).

CHAPTER I. Hello, Duchess.

Andesite. Dacite. Schist. 

Gorgeous. 

Suguru takes a mental note of the rock formations whizzing by just before he spears the Aegean Sea. Tailwind force trailing his feet in an elegant whirl.

Eh, mediocre landing. He’s out of practice. 

It’s true. Seminary did not allow for too much idle time in between biblical studies. Devil’s playground, and such. 

And it’s not in his nature to half-ass any life endeavor, whatever it may be. 

Suguru deftly levels out in the welcoming waves. Loose-limbed and fluid. Choosing to hover below her surface for a few moments longer. The tail end of his thick, singular French braid undulating behind him.

His body flows in tandem with the current. Swimming deep enough to scatter a pool of Fagri. He instinctively captures one in his large hand — not quite as out-of-touch as he thought. 

‘Make it to shore! If Poseidon calls, don’t answer Him, son!’

The gentle fisherman called out each time Suguru dove off their vessel. Still two or three, sometimes up to five miles from the coast, he’d plunge into the waters. Regardless of her mood, Suguru craved to be surrounded by her embrace. 

To be baptized by her tide. 

Showered with her salt of the earth. 

A dampened smile blooms across Suguru’s terse lips. Oxygen bubbles float about, from the muffled chuckle escaping him. 

His father’s voice rings between his ears. A little less clearly, nowadays. 

He always dove deeper than his fellow seafarers. Without the restraints of gear or protective equipment. Unnaturally comfortable in an element more labile than human nature. 

Suguru’s father mused about his Stormborn boy’s true lineage. 

‘Everyday, I prayed for you. Begged for you. And the God of the Ocean delivered a precious gift. Don’t return to His storms too soon.’

Fond memories, a little yellowed now. Callouses from those days have faded. 

Suguru is a different man. Born again. In a new country. With a new home, a new purpose. 

Even still, it’s comforting to know the world is 70% water, 30% land. And the Great Majority has always welcomed him with open arms.

No matter the iteration of his life, he’ll always find a home at Sea.

“Father Geto!”

What? 

Suguru begins his ascent. He is still by the cliff edge. Not nearly far enough for the Sirens to beckon. 

“Chaplain! Are you out there?”

Not even the saltwater penetrates his ears like this melody. 

An ethereal crescendo. With all the grace and beauty of a summer swan. Light enough to lull stoic men to a peaceful, permanent, slumber. 

More alluring. More disorienting than the songs at sea he’s heard and resisted. Potent enough to drown a warship. 

Who is calling for him?

Suguru chases the lethal sound. Careful pauses at each depth-level. To avoid returning to Poseidon’s storms too soon, as his father would say. 

“Father Geto!” 

Ahh, a voice he recognizes. His alter boy, Noel, at the peak.

Helios is kind, today. Because the Sun kisses Suguru as he breaks the surface. If the Ocean is his home, the Sun is certainly his lover. 

“What is it, Noel?” He calls in between strides to the volcanic edge.

“You have a visitor!” A tremble to Noel’s tone. Suguru cant help the low chuckle that leaves him.

Adolescents are always so anxious. Nervous about the most inconsequential, meaningless things. He was once the same. 

Who could be visiting? His schedule is supposed to be cleared today. 

Suguru laments leaving his clothing at the peak of the cliffside. Tossing a glance over his left shoulder - memories of his past life tattooed in various symbols. His back, covered in a sprawling trident. 

A permanent stain from the life he lived before this. It’s unbecoming of a priest to be seen this way. 

Latching onto the unforgiving rocky edges, Suguru scales the steep terrain in long steps and short holds. Serrated earth digs into his damp palms with each grasp.

He savors the pain. It’s familiar. An indication that he’s spent some time in the only other place he finds unfettered peace. 

“Noel, my schedule was cleared. Who could be—“

“Pardon my intrusion, Father Geto.” You seep into Suguru’s sentence, effectively answering his question. 

Music. 

Suguru nearly falls backward off the ledge he just set foot on.

Rumors about your beauty pollenated the compound for weeks. Anxiously anticipating your arrival. Hushed voices between maidens. Whispers within the walls of parlors. Bellowing gossip between court officials. 

All the words, all the speculations roll around Suguru’s skull. Louder than glass shattering in an empty room. 

They were wrong. 

Liars. 

Not even a tenth of the truth can be found in the frivolous ‘she’s a beauty’, ‘what a pretty face’ and comments of the like taking root in the compound. 

No, no. 

You were sculpted by every single Deity Suguru has ever studied.  

Because the One he has chosen to worship couldn’t have possibly crafted you alone. 

The good Lord is simply without the means.

Suguru will have to repent for that blasphemous thought later. 

…but God granted him eyesight, no? 

Eyes that can see underwater with the same clarity as a cloudless day. He trusts his eyes more than any part of his body. 

And they aren’t deceiving him. 

Flushed and turned away, Suguru takes a moment to soak you in, while patting himself dry. Maybe taking a little extra time to step into his khaki slacks and white button up. 

His wind pipe threatens to spasm with each sip of you he takes. 

Exquisite woman. 

You could convert a non believer in an instant. 

The gentle slope of your nose, those warmed soft, high cheeks deserve to be cherished in a museum. 

That dress. 

The tailor must’ve sewn it to your body in real time. Rolling hills and dips of your feminine curves. So quick to surrender to the ride your frame is taking him on. 

Suguru could fall to his knees and praise the Gods right here and now for their attention to detail. 

“Duchess? I’m embarrassed. Forgive my attire, I wasn’t expecting visitors today.”

Still damp but fully clothed, Suguru walks forward with a steady hand outstretched. Intentionally skipping eye contact with Noel, who would’ve interpreted the glance as anger. The boy is practically vibrating in his periphery. 

Concerned about possibly making a mistake, sure. But if Suguru were still a betting man, he’d bet your presence is driving Noel’s rattled nerves. 

“I’m the one who should be asking for forgiveness!” Unveiling your face to him with a gorgeous smile, you offer a delicate hand that drowns in his. 

Well.

To call it just a gorgeous smile makes him no better than the rumor mill and its grave underestimation. 

The air around him is sliced to a fraction of what it was. Suddenly gossamer thin and inadequate. 

You are breathtaking. 

“Please.” A deceptively even tone and casual wave of his hand. You wouldn’t know that words taste like sandpaper. 

“How can I serve you, Duchess?” 

“You do not have to address me as such, Father. I’m not wed, yet!”

Bunny lines along your nose deepen when you laugh. Heat scorches Suguru’s ears and you both are presently under shade. 

Do. Not. Covet.

“It’s all the same.” With a restrained smile, Suguru peels his eyes away from yours. 

Resting them on his rectory in the distance. He gestures his hands forward. Noel scrambles ahead of you two, undoubtedly to go tidy the chapel (that is already spotless). 

“You’re quite the swimmer.” 

You could assassinate him, you know. 

With that voice of yours. The way it stuns his senses. Far more dangerous now that it isn’t dampened by unrelenting waves. 

Suguru is a strong swimmer. He knows it. Noel knows it. The whole court knows it. Great Whites know it. 

So why is his spine unraveling at its seams when you say it? 

Why is his heart knocking against his sternum like it’s on the run from something? 

From someone, rather. 

“Mmm.” Suguru hums through closed lips. 

Unable to acknowledge the compliment with decorum. He opts for diversion instead. 

“Duchess, if I may. What prompted your visit to the chapel? How can I serve you?” 

The two of you take lazy strides along the cobblestone path. You ogle at a white rose bush that Suguru is particularly fond of. 

“I was touring the compound and noticed the garden surrounding the Church.” 

A distracted response, while nestling your nose in a pretty bloom. Sun rays fanning your face as if to showcase that you’re God’s favorite. A biblical example of how flowers should be enjoyed.

Is it just the roses? Or are you this beautiful no matter the plant?  

“Ahh. Come, then.” 

You’re being indulgent, Suguru. 

Maybe so. But the Chapel Grounds are his domain. The greenery lives and breathes under his fingertips. He adamantly refused a groundskeeper for the garden. Taking pride in nurturing its needy existence. 

Second only to his eyes, Suguru trusts his hands fully. They’re intelligent. Fast. Expansive. 

Definitive. Firm when the situation calls for it, yet gentle. Quick to learn. 

Attentive. 

He’s never gotten a shortage of compliments on his hands—

“Wisteria!” You torpedo through Suguru’s rapidly disintegrating spiral. And he couldn’t be more grateful. 

Regaining a shred of control, he leads you under the oak archway. Draped in curtains of Wisteria. The billowing lilac petals sway romantically in the sea breeze. 

Your lips hang open in a pretty, shocked ‘Oh.’ Eyes wide, gazing up at him in wonder. Adoration woven into those beautiful features slams hot and heavy into his lower abdomen. Remnant embers warming below his belt line. 

Suguru coughs to reset his over-sensitive senses. A futile gesture because you knock him right back down to his knees. 

“Oh, Father…..please?” A soft plea rolls through the slit in your lips. Pulling his eyes down to your pout.

Fuck. 

The rock formation Suguru took note of earlier suddenly materializes in his throat. You coated his honorific in a new tone. Breathy and desperate. As if he is the only person who could satisfy your needs. 

His skin is half a degree away from melting clear off his skeleton under those big, warm eyes of yours. 

“Specify your request, Duchess.”

Both hands jam into his pockets so he can dig his nails into his thighs unnoticed. The searing pain tethering him to this dimension. 

A deep rose blooms over your cheeks. Realizing you hadn’t actually asked him a question before begging. 

So, prettily. 

“May I please tend to your garden? It’s…I’m far from home and gardening brings me so much joy. Please, Father Geto—“

“Yes.” 

His agreement comes well before Suguru is ready. Or, thought it through. 

Should a noble woman be seen doing tasks as menial as gardening? 

Should you be seen without your fiancée on his grounds? 

What will you look like? 

Kneeling over a bed of sunflowers? 

Kneading the soil with your delicate, small hands—

“How can I thank you?” Your lips curl into an intoxicating smile. And Suguru no longer has the capacity to be in your presence. 

“No need, stay as long as you like. I have to take my leave.”

Suguru offers a curt wave and terse smile before spinning on his heel. Leaving you, a work of art, beneath the masterpiece that is his arc of wisteria. 

He barrels down the Chapel corridors at light speed. The pews, confessional, meeting rooms whirl by his periphery in a drunken haze.

Cold water. Cold water. 

The wooden bathroom door creaks and wails beneath his harsh touch. Suguru fumbles with the two-level lock.

He nearly strips down naked. The fire incinerating him from within is unbearable. If there were scissors within grasp he would’ve cut his braid completely off. Because even the familiar sway of his waist length mane along his back is too much. 

You are too much.

Suguru’s fingers unravel his braid and reposition his locks into a tight bun. Off the damp skin along his neck. 

‘Father….please?’

Your voice echoes from Suguru’s incapacitated brain down to his drooling cock. Icy water splashes against face. 

Suguru’s length has been weeping since you first revealed your face to him. Twitching and thrashing with every single word that came out of that pretty, sinful mouth. He’s never been so grateful that today he chose to swim with compression gear, rather than his usual bared skin. 

Are you doing this on purpose?

Wide eyed and demure. But with a voice more beautiful than any siren that has tried to lure him to his watery grave. 

Is this a test?

Suguru’s fingers desperately grasp the golden cross around his neck. Digging the symbol into his palm. 

“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners…” He starts. Ignited, smoldering violet eyes staring back at him are unrecognizable. 

They are not of God. 

They are dark. 

Lust filled. 

“Now. And…and at the hour of our death.” Words slip through his gritted teeth. His other hand grips the sink edge. 

‘May I please tend to your Garden?’

“God. Please.” Suguru is the one pleading. To anyone above.

For self-control. For reprieve from the shape of your lips when you beg. His cock bucks against his inner thigh. Demanding attention to the ache between his legs. 

Are you Eve? 

Have you come to destroy his Eden?

Your delectable mounds barely hidden beneath that fucking dress as the Apple?

“Holy…Holy Mary, Mother of God…pray for us sinners.” His vice grip around the cross tightens. Babbling words he hopes can provide him with some restraint, some clarity.

They don’t.

Because his other hand now hovers over the pulsating bulge in his slacks. His manhood starved. Especially having been deprived of touch. Of warmth for longer than Suguru remembers.

“Holy…Mary…fuck.” Blasphemy rolling off his tongue. 

Scorching heat radiating from his hovering palm pierces his clothing. Encasing his cock like a warmed blanket. Enticing him like the soft sex of a woman. Every single muscle is under wire tension. Forcing space between his need and his hand. 

His hands. Don’t forsake him now. He trusts his hands. 

“Father Geto? Are you alright?” Noel’s call from the other side of the door startles Suguru still.

“I’m—“ Suguru clears his dry throat “I’m alright, Noel. What do you need?”

“I saw you run in here and—“

“I’m okay.” Suguru replies, more softly this time. The boy is almost too tender-hearted for his own good.

He doesn’t miss the small sigh of relief. 

“I left your updated schedule on your desk.” 

“And what would I do without you?”

Suguru can almost hear Noel smiling across the barrier. Gleefully padding away. Completely unaware that his presence was the saving grace from disgracing himself. 

Another splash of cold water on his face and multiple deep breaths later, Suguru finally gains enough composure to emerge. 

Curious about the updates to his schedule, he strides to his office. A leather folder awaits with his itinerary.

Saturday: 0800 - 1000- Youth lecture 

Saturday: 1800 - 2000 - Evening mass

Sunday: 0700 - 0900 - Morning mass

Sunday: 1300 - 1400 - Pre-Marital Counseling [CONFIDENTIAL] 

“High court, then.” Suguru muses to himself. Pulling out the envelope with a matching demarcation. Meant for his eyes only. Should the seal be broken en route to the recipient the offender could be sentenced to death for treason. 

And at this moment, Suguru finds that fate less painful than the spear currently piercing his lungs.

His eyes burn into the names written at the bottom of the page.

The Duke Ahriman  & The Duchess-to-Be.

Chapter II

E/N: Hello from [redacted]. I am literally losing my shite. I’m already in love with the plot before it has even fully materialized. And prince-of-the-sea-Suguru? This headcannon has me in a chokehold I fear. Thank you for reading 💋

[runveganwankerrun]

This week’s run report to Coach

1. Long hills at club - This was like a steady, hilly run. Up one side of the hill, down the other as recovery, then up the other side of the hill, down as the rest of the recovery. Was only a twenty-five minute session. Covered about 4k. Doesn’t sound like much, but it felt good.

2. 5 miles easy peasy - This was done very early, before work. It was VERY easy paced.

3. 1k reps with club - Club was cancelled due to the track being an ice rink, so I used Wednesday as a rest day, and did my own 1k reps on Thur before work. It was slower than if I’d been amongst others, but the 1k reps were still faster than my normal average pace. 

4. 20km long run - Two hours and twenty-two minutes. I didn’t check pace at all throughout the whole run, just distance, as I can forget where I am after seven km! It was tough, but not impossible. I felt as if I was at the same level of discomfort throughout, so the last five k were not much harder than the first. Still wouldn’t call it pleasant, and I find myself getting bored. I’m VERY pleased with getting it done. 

5. Extra session - An easy paced 6k on Friday morning. Wanted Saturday as a rest day. I did 10k on the Saturday before my 18k last week. I think it made me tired, so I’m going to try to keep Saturday free of running for the next couple of months, except possibly the odd slow parkrun.

Overall a positive week. I don’t find the long run easy at all, but I’m so proud of myself when I do it.

I know I’ve already written about some of that, but that’s my whole week of running. I’m happy with it. Today’s long run was done completely solo. There were some of the club meeting up at 9am for a fifty minute run, and I thought I might join up with them once I’d done about ninety minutes or so. It was too hard to coordinate the time and the distance though, so I ran my whole 20k alone and then met up with them in the cafe at 10am for coffee and craic. 

The 20k was boring. I’m sorry, but there’s no other word for it. I find it dull to be out alone for over two hours. That’s the case even with a podcast going in my ears. I really need to find a way to get into a decent mindset. It could have been worse though, because at no point did I actually think I was going to stop. I might have been annoying to know that I had x number of km to go, but I knew I’d run them. I used 750ml of Tailwind in a backpack. It’s the first long run in this training cycle that I’ve used fuelling, and I think it helped. I definitely didn’t flag as much as I could have, and my legs aren’t as heavy as they were after last week’s run. They were like stones last week and they felt like that all day. 

The main issue after this run was chaffing. The top of my inner thighs aren’t too bad. That awful sting that you feel in the shower afterwards wasn’t too bad, though there was a little of it. It was my lady parts. My flaps were on fire! Is that too much information! Teehee. I need to find a pair of shorts, skort or captis that don’t rub as they get wet with sweat. Oh, the trials of the long run! :-D 

[hi-im-aiii]

Just Us (Choi Yeonjun x Celebrity Reader)

Chapter 1:  Off we go

You boarded the airplane and found your seat in first class, by the window on the last row. You sat down comfortably on your spot.

Your eyes are fixed on the screen in front of you. The in-flight safety video is already playing, showing where the exits are, how to fasten your seatbelt, when portable electronics can and can’t be used, etc.

Then you heard the pre-flight announcement from the speaker.

“Mabuhay! Welcome to Philippine Airlines! This is the pre-flight announcement for flight PR75 to South Korea. We are currently second in line for take-off and are expected to be in the air in approximately five minutes time. We ask that you please fasten your seatbelts at this time and secure all baggage underneath your seat or in the overhead compartments. We also ask that your seats and table trays are in the upright position for take-off. Please turn off all personal electronic devices, including laptops and cell phones. Smoking is prohibited for the duration of the flight. Thank you for choosing Philippine Airlines. Enjoy your flight.”

You feel that the plane is slowly moving in the ground, preparing to take off. Few minutes later, you feel that the plane is gradually ascending. You can feel your ears popping as the altitude increases.

After some time, you heard the captain’s announcement.

“Good morning passengers. This is your captain speaking. First, I'd like to welcome everyone on flight PR75 to South Korea. We are currently cruising at an altitude of 33,000 feet at an airspeed of 400 miles per hour. The time is 8:15 am. The weather looks good and with the tailwind on our side we are expecting to land in Seoul approximately fifteen minutes ahead of schedule. The weather in Seoul is clear and sunny, with a high of 25 degrees for this afternoon. If the weather cooperates, we should get a great view of the city as we descend. The cabin crew will be coming around in about twenty minutes time to offer you a light snack and beverage, and the inflight movie will begin shortly after that. I'll talk to you again before we reach our destination. Until then, sit back, relax and enjoy the rest of the flight.”

You opened the screen and started checking the movie lists.

You saw a number of movies that you are in, either as the female lead or supporting actress.

You sighed deeply, “I don’t know if I’ll be happy or not seeing these.” You told yourself.

Then you heard a knock on your small door. The door slide opened. “Good afternoon, Ms. Y/N, sorry for interrupting you.” A female flight attendant appeared by your cabin door entrance.

“Good afternoon. What can I do for you?” You asked.

“I’m the senior flight attendant of this flight. We saw your name on our passenger list and we would just like to welcome you personally on boarding our flight. If you need anything don’t hesitate to call any of us here. Again, welcome to Philippine Airlines and enjoy your flight with us,” She bowed.

“You really don’t have to greet me personally. But thank you, anyways. I’ll let you know if I need anything,” you smiled warmly at the attendant.

You are expecting for the attendant to take her exit, but she is not moving on her spot and just keep staring at you.

You are confused and asked her, “Is there any problem?”

“If it’s just okay for you, Ms. Y/N,” the female attendant started saying, fidgeting on her spot. “Can I have a photo with you? I am a really big fan of yours!”

“No worries, come near and let’s take selfies.” You gestured to the female to come near your seat. “But please don’t expose to social medias my flight itinerary. I’m travelling solo for a vacation right now.”

The lady nodded. You took a number of selfies and the female flight attendant happily exited your cabin.

Closing your eyes, you thought of the things which had recently happened to you. It’s been a really hectic and tiring year for you. You have been busy on filming consecutive dramas. Being a celebrity is no joke. Specially, if you are really popular and have been receiving a number of offers. After the successful airing of your recent drama. You decided to take a vacation on your own. Away from the cameras, from social medias and if possible, from people who know you as celebrity.

Most of the people might think that having wealth, fame and notoriety can bring you the feeling of happiness and contentment associated with being a celebrity. However, from what you are experiencing as a famous celebrity in the Philippines who is highly visible in the media, it is taking a tremendous toll on your psychological functioning.  No privacy. Everything you do is publicized for the world to see, discuss, and mock.

But the one that you are dealing the most difficult is the “Lost sense of self”. Like other celebrities, you are feeling that you are unable to assert your individuality in a media world fraught with stereotypes.  As the media and fans develop a false perception of you as a celebrity, you begin to lose track of the multi-faceted aspects of your own personality.  This causes you to make choices that no longer reflect your true self, which further compromises your sense of identity. 

Feeling like this, you want to break free, even just for a while from your drama roles, from the fans, haters, media, from the fame. You just want to even with some small time find your true self. You are now taking a risk alone to have a vacation to a foreign place that you hope that no one will notice you as a celebrity.

You felt so tired and had slept for most of the time during the flight. You did not even have the chance to have your meal. You are woken up by hearing the flight pre landing announcement.

“Ladies & Gentlemen, now we're approaching Seoul where the local time is 12:00 nn.  At this stage you should be in your seat with your seatbelt firmly, fastened.  Personal television screens, footrests and seat tables must be stowed away and all hand luggage stored either in the overhead lockers or under the seat in front.  Please ensure all electronic devices including laptop computers and computer games are turned off.”

You sat up and fastened your seat belt. You felt that the plane is gradually descending. After some time, the plane reached the ground.

You heard the landing announcement from the speaker.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we just landed at Incheon International Airport. Welcome to Seoul. Please remain seated and fasten your seatbelt until our plane has come to a complete stop. On behalf of Philippine Airlines, we thank you for your patronage. We look forward to seeing you again. Thank you very much.”

You started tidying up. You packed your phone and ipad to your carry-on bag. You straighten up the creases on your clothes and put on a black face mask to cover your nose and mouth area. Aside from there is still a pandemic going on, you’re still in the plane and in a city, you will never know there might still be fans around the place. It is better to be cautious than be sorry later on.

The people started disembarking the plane. You quietly exited with the crowd, with your dark sunglasses on and hoodie up. You successfully passed the immigration and picked your luggage in the conveyer belt.

Your staff had already arranged everything you need for this vacation, you believed. You already have your Korean sim card for internet connectivity and loaded T-money on your hand.

“So I am in terminal 1, I just need to ….what????” You are shocked on what you read on the notes that your staff prepared for you.

“Is this for real?! Are they telling me to ride 2 buses and 2 trains for more than 7 hours just to reach Damyang-gun?” You shrieked in disbelief.

“This won’t do,” you told yourself. You have searched online how to go to Damyang-gun efficiently. Car hire is the fastest with around 3 hours straight drive. But you doubt that you can easily and safely hire a car to go to your destination. The next option is to fly there from Seoul Gimpo airport to Gwanju and take a 30-minute bus to Damyang-gun.

“Okay, that’s it.  I’ll take this flight.” You headed to the commuter rail as you read on the map. You need to take the AREX and pass 6 stops to reach Seoul Gimpo Airport.  There you will buy the plane ticket and take the earliest flight.

Walking towards the commuter rail you saw a lot of posters and advertisements of Korean pop idols. They are everywhere. Because you are extremely busy with your career you are not really familiar with the k-pop idols. You watch Korean dramas as reference and you love to read manhwas (Korean comics) as a hobby. Before being a famous celebrity, you were a total anime geek, you love anime so much, you read a lot of mangas. But because of your popularity rise you don’t have enough time to really watch anime series. Your hobby shifted more on reading colorful version of Korean comics which was the manhwa and also some light novels. Even when you are busy, you still find time to read even a chapter or some few pages of manhwas. In fact, you have learned how to read and write Hangul because some chapters of manhwa’s you read are in Korean and the are no available translations for recent chapters.

Such a nerd. You though to yourself. But this is one of the things that makes you stay sane. Retaining your identity as an individual. For this trip, you want to dwell more on the things that keeps you YOU.

And Indeed that hobby of yours are helping you, big time now.

You understand all the Korean signages you saw and somehow a little bit of what the people around you are saying.

You reached the Seoul Gimpo station after a 30-minute ride to AREX. You hurriedly walked to the front desk of a local airlines.

“안녕하세요 (annyeonghaseyo),” you greeted the lady in the front desk politely in Korean.

“Can I book the earliest flight going to Gwanju?”

“광��가는 가장 빠른 비행기를 예약할 수 있나요? (Can I book the earliest flight going to Gwanju?)”

You spoke at the same time with someone but he is speaking in Korean. Yet, you understood that person is also asking for an earliest flight to Gwanju. Your hardwork self-studying hangul is really paying off. You silently thank your manhwa collection and light novels. There was a paused from the lady. The front desk lady smile at both of you and the person beside you. You sneakily take a look at the person beside you. He was tall and slim. A Korean indeed. He was wearing a black mask and black hoodie as well. Somehow your outfit seem to be like a couple’s one. You are also wearing a black mas and black hoodie. The only different is that he is wearing a black pants and you are wearing a black skirt.

The front desk lady speaks in Korean first and talked to the man beside you. Then she started to speak to you in English, when you interrupted “I understand that the only available seats are in economy class and there are just two seats available and the plane will depart in 30 minutes. I will avail one seat for this flight. 감사합니다 (Thank you).”

The front desk lady smiled at you and proceed to process the tickets. She handed one ticket to you and to the guy beside you.

You took the ticket and bowed thankfully to the lady. You hurriedly run to the boarding gate.

You boarded the plane and found your seat in the economy class on the end part of the plane. Your seat is on the right side of the wing. There are three seats adjacent together. Your seat is on the middle. There was already an old woman sitting on the isle seat.

You greeted the old woman “안녕하세요 (annyeonghaseyo)”. The old woman smiled at you.

You tried to reach the overhead compartment to put in your carry-on bag. It is a bit high so you tiptoed and just pushed in your bad. But suddenly, you slightly trip on your right foot and lost balance. You thought you will drop on the floor, but you unexpectedly felt arms supporting your right shoulder and back. You open your eyes. You saw a pair of attractive eyes. Monolids. Eyes that are sort of cat-like. He was wearing a facemask and his hair was hidden beneath his hoodie. You remembered that he was the guy on the front desk earlier.

“Miss, are you okay?” He spoke in English.

You were in dazed but you tried to snap back in reality. “Y-yeah. I am okay. Thank you very much.”

You immediately sat down on your seat. It was a bit cramped. You are not used to take economy class flight. But you don’t have choice since you want to reach your destination immediately.

“Miss, can you make some space? I will be seating there by the window,” the monolid guy said pointing on the empty window seat.

“I’m sorry. Okay. Go ahead”. You folded your knees to make some space. The guy passed in front of you and sat down beside you, by the window.

The plane started to take off. You are really hungry since you were not able to have your breakfast meal from the earlier flight. You heard a wrapper being open. You looked beside you. The monolid guy is opening a biscuit. You watched how he opened the big box and the wrapper for each biscuit. It was Lotte Chocolate Binch Biscuits, one of you most favorite Korean snacks. You gulped as you watched him eat.

Then suddenly your stomach loudly growled.

The guy stopped eating and turned his head in your direction. He saw you staring at his biscuit.

“Um, do you want some?” he offered his biscuits to you.

“This is so embarrassing. I’m so sorry” you apologized. “But I will not be declining. As you’ve heard my growling stomach. I will accept the offer.” You got the box and got a few biscuits. You are about to return it to the guy.

“No worries. You can have it all. I am still full. I think you need it more,” he smiled.

“Nooooo, you take this. This is a big box. We will share,” you got his hand and put the box over it. “Thank you very much,” You smiled at him.

He got the box of biscuit and continue eating. You also proceed in opening the wrapper and eating the biscuits. Such a life saver.

You were busy chewing, when the monolid guy spoke. “You’re here for a vacation?”

You looked at him and nodded while still chewing on your chocolate biscuit.

He chuckled.

You’re confused as if to why he chuckled.

He pointed on his cheek, “you have some chocolate in your face”.

“Ehhhhhhh,” you tried to remove the chocolate stain on your face. But when you touched your face. You heard him chuckled more.

“What now?” you asked him.

“You smeared more chocolate than cleaning it up,” he was laughing hard now. You can see some tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry for laughing at you. It’s just that…it’s really funny.”

You keep trying to clean it but to no avail he just keeps laughing more.

You pouted. He noticed your pout and he tried his best to stop laughing.

“I’m sorry again. Okay let me help you.” He got some napkins and carefully wipe the chocolate stains on your face. “Honestly, how old are you? You still eat like a kid. Don’t be offended please. It’s not that bad. Rather, I find it cute.”

He accidentally touched your lips with his fingers. And you stared with each other’s eyes.

Now, you can properly see his facial features. With his hoodie down and facemask removed. His lips sort of form a triangle. He has a lot of piercings and he has chubby cheeks. He also has black hair. He looks like a desert fox.

“Aigooooo, such a young and loving couple.” You heard the old woman seating at the isle spoke in korean.

You immediately moved backwards and the monolid guy also did the same.

“아니. 할머니. 우리는 커플이 아닙니다. (No. Grandma, we are not a couple),” you tried to politely reply in korean.

“Wow you speak Korean?” the guy asked. As if he was trying to remove the awkward situation.

“I know some phrases and I understand somehow,” you replied.

“대박 (Daebak),” he exclaimed.

“You’re also good at speaking english,” you told him.

“Oh. I lived in California for 2 years. That’s why.” He explained. “So where are you from?”

“I’m from the Philippines. I’m here for a solo vacation,” you told him grinning.

“I see from the Philippines. Uhm, are you into K-pop? There are a lot of kpop idols fans there, I think.” he asked you; he seems to be nervous.

“Korean pop music? I’m sorry. I’m not really familiar with kpop moreso with kpop idols. But I watched a bit, just a bit of Korean dramas for reference” you admitted.

“Oh that’s good to hear,” he sighed, somehow he seemed relief.

“By the way, we’re talking for a bit already. But I still don’t know your name. My name is Y/N. and you are?” You asked for his name.

“I’m Yeonjun.”

“So, Yeonjun why are you going to Gwanju?” you asked him nonchalantly.

“Oh, for a vacation too,” he responded immediately.

“Alone too?” you inquired.

“Yes. I want some time alone,” he responded.

“I kinda understand that,” you grinned at him.

After talking for a bit, Yeonjun and you decided to rest for the remaining time of the flight. Your eyes are closed trying to relax, when you heard a soft thudding sound. You opened your eyes and saw Yeonjun’s heads intermittently hitting the window. Yet he is still sleeping. He seemed so tired. You felt that you should not wake him up and let him rest. But you are worried that he might hurt himself. You tried to find something soft to put between his head and the window but to no avail there is nothing around. You are just in a short flight, so pillows and blankets are not provided. You put your hand over Yeonjun’s head to straighten his posture for his head not to bump on the window. But to your surprise, he shifted towards your direction and put his head over your shoulder.

You are thankful that you have your face mask on, or people can easily see your face red as tomato. You want to wake him up, but he seemed to be deep on his sleep.

“Yeonjun,” you tried to call his name. But he is not waking up.

Then you felt your eyes are becoming heavy. You yawned. “I guess, I’ll just let you sleep like this. Rest well,” then you also drifted to sleep.

Yeonjun’s POV

I slowly opened my eyes. It seems that I fell asleep. I was so tired. We practiced until late at night yesterday just for me to have this week off. I was about to rub my eyes, when I felt something warm in my hand. I looked down and saw that Y/N’s hand was over my hand. I was about to panic, then I felt that my head was resting on her shoulder and her head was resting on mine. I panicked more.

“Yeonjun, why are you so shameless,” I thought to myself.

I slowly and carefully put her hand away, on her lap. With my left hand, I carefully lifted her head, so I can straighten my head up. I slowly put her head on my right shoulder. Now that I’m close to her like this, I can see that she has really long eye lashes. Though, she has her facemask on, I saw that she is really pretty when she was eating the biscuit earlier.

I saw her fringes covering her face and my hand unknowingly moved her fringes on the side of her face. I am so close with a stranger, and a female one at that. But it does not feel uncomfortable. It’s more of the opposite. I feel so relaxed and I was in deep sleep earlier.

“It seems that you really like your girlfriend,” the old woman sitting on the isle seat said to me. “It seems that she really like you as well. She saw your head bumping on the window and immediately put your head on her shoulder. Such a sweet girl. You two suit each other well,” she smiled.

I can feel that my ears are turning red just hearing what happened. But she is not my girlfriend. I am about to tell to the old woman that she is not my girlfriend. When the landing announcement is heard on the speaker. You felt that Y/N’s head tilted. She opened her eyes and she immediately raised her head, away from your shoulder.

“I’m sorry. It seems like I fell asleep too.” She apologized.

“No worries. I think I was the one who fell asleep first. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” I also apologized.

The plane landed. I can still feel that it is still a bit awkward between me and Y/N. The people started to stand up from their seats and disembarked the plane. I was about to stand up too, when I saw Y/N. She was assisting the old woman sitting on isle seat. She helped her stand up and got her baggage on the overhead compartment for her.

I smiled at the scene. She was a nice person. So polite and helpful. So pretty and attractive. I was in dazed thinking of these things about her, when I snapped back in reality. I saw her waving her hand on my face.

“Hey, Yeonjun!” she called me.

“Y-yes,” you looked at her.

“I just want to say bye. And it was really nice meeting you. I’ll be off now. See you when I see you!” she smiled at me.

Such a warm and genuine smile.

“Y-yes. Nice meeting you Y/N. Enjoy your stay in Korea.” I smiled back.

She turned around and walked away.

“See you when I see you,” I whispered on yourself.

[emyluwinter]

I want more moments where Yuu shows himself as a Prefect.

Who REALLY IS THE FIRST-YEAR PREFECT, DAMN IT.

Over time and overblots, other students have an unspoken respect for Yuu.

Because where Prefect of Onboro is, there are changes in the good direction.

Consider that a tailwind when it is so necessary.

Yes, the changes are not coming immediately, but gradually. But they are welcome.

First year, second year, third year. Doesn't make a difference.

WHY DOES NO ONE MENTION THAT YUU DEFEATED THREE SAVANACLAW STUDENTS IN CHAPTER 3?!?

THAT THEY FOUGHT ON A PAR WITH JACK?!BEASTMAN!!!

EH?!(╯‵□′)╯︵┻━┻

Yes, Yuu does not have a full-fledged dormitory in the usual sense.

Are they a Prefect?Yes, they still perform some duties as dorm leaders.

Maybe they can't go to meetings, they can't be written off.

Who is literally the number 1 Director's proxy in problems? - Yuu and Grimm. true, they themselves are not enthusiastic about it ...

Seriously uses these two as a band-Aid or blue duct tape for all their problems and his conscience does not even gnaw....

Usually Yuu does not "remind" that they are also a "Prefect"

But sometimes they can benefit from it depending on the situation

One day Sebek and Jack quarreled in the living room of the Onboro because of their Dorm Leaders. Something like "who is better"

As a result, their verbal sparring got too heated and they staged a pogrom in the living room, bringing everything to a very serious fight. The old coffee table was literally broken into splinters due to the fall of both of them on the old wood.

Given their height and the strength of both, the consequences could be more "destructive"

If the two of them hadn't suddenly been doused with icy water from the side...

- You two.......stopped right away and sat down on the floor... - judging by that quiet and very hard tone of Yuu, the boys realized that they had overreacted. But the Prefect was clearly furious.

In one hand, Yuu was holding a carafe of cold water and ice, apparently they wanted to make lemonade for freshmen.

And in the other hand there was a long belt. And apparently if the water hadn't stopped them, they would have used the belt as a whip and tied them both up.

Jack looked around, seeing what they had done and feeling guilty, at least for the damage to property.

Tucking his ears and tail between his legs, he obediently sat down first on the floor in front of Yuu.

But Sebek, in the heat of anger and adrenaline, was not going to "obey" some magical person who also poured ice water on him!!

- I did not give you the word Zigvolt....I dare to REMIND you that I am also a PREFECT, and believe me, I will definitely tell your Dorm Leaders and Vice Dorm Leader about WHAT you have done today. So sat down and calmed down....immediately.

Ace, Deuce, and Epel and Grimm, who were peeking around the corner with apprehension, understood all this perfectly well...

If Yuu calls someone by their last name, they are clearly not waiting for a pleasant and good conversation.

They wanted to try to separate the two, but Yuu intervened first.

- Yuu scares ... - quietly whispered Epel watching all this.

- Yeah, when they're angry, it's better to get off the island somewhere far away... - Grimm added softly, tucking his ears and hiding behind the feet of the freshmen.

- Sebek better sit down ... - Jack added nodding his head, thereby pointing to the mayhem because of their fight.

Feeling extremely embarrassed and offended, Sebek still obeyed and sat down.

He didn't want to break other people's things. And he certainly didn't want to discredit his reputation in front of his dorm.

- Good... Now explain, what the hell are you doing here?Did I explain badly that any fights are prohibited in Onboro?

Yuu crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the freshmen. Who were taller than them, of a larger build and had magic. But it didn't matter now.

Jack and Sebek felt extremely guilty, they were scolded like little children.

Yuu clearly indicated to them that fighting in their dorm is prohibited. Under any pretext. Not only because they can break everything, but the fact that the building itself can harm them more than the fight itself.

There is no guarantee that while they are fighting, the wreckage will not kill them.

In addition, Yuu themselves would be happy to break the legs of anyone who tries to cause harm in their hostel, which cost titanic efforts to bring to a more acceptable place to live.

- If Jack would agree that the Young Master is better than his headman.. - Sebek began to speak, but immediately fell silent when he saw Yuu's very stern and angry face.

- So you want to say my living room was smashed to pieces because you couldn't agree on which Dorm Leader is better?Do I understand you correctly?

Yuu's voice sounded even more angry, but they didn't raise their voices. Didn't insult them. Rather, it was a boiling point that could lead to more rage compared to any other of the Leaders.

When Yuu scolded someone from the first days, or swore at them. Then they never insulted and raised their voice only in rare cases. They didn't say nasty things, but they clearly indicated how stupid they behaved.

Jack awkwardly scratched the back of his head while removing a piece of wood from his hair.

Sebek squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw, slowly turning crimson with shame. He lost his temper!!How can he be a Young Master's knight now?!

None of them dared to answer.

- .........Punished, both of you. - having clearly enunciated these words, Yuu turned their head and fixed their gaze on the "audience". Giving strict instructions.

- Felmer, please bring a first aid kit from the kitchen so that these two lick their wounds. Trappola, Spade, take the tools from the pantry, please, and bring them here. Howl and Zigvolnt bind up your wounds and clean up all the chaos that you have caused here.

During the week, you will wash the entire west wing of the building, as well as clean the snow from the main entrance and garden. WITHOUT MAGIC. Is everything clear to you?

Even though they are friends and that they have been through a lot. Yuu understood perfectly well that they needed "understanding" when they crossed all boundaries.

And these rash actions on their part will necessarily lead to consequences. No matter how they try to "sneak away"

In addition, their punishments were always aimed at ensuring that they could release all the "steam"

The teachers also noticed that other students no longer tease and mock the non-magical student.

Moreover, do they treat them with reverence?

Because Yuu were not afraid of other leaders of the dormitory, as some students did.

Moreover, they could easily communicate with them on almost equal terms.

Everyone saw that Yuu treats other leaders with respect, but they can also talk to them as if they were ordinary students.

[cheesus-doodles]

Idk if you reply but the ask is open, if it’s not and I would like to apologize but if it is then lemme tell you the idea that’s been bugging my mind. Platonic Yandere Toman with a darling that can leap through time, like straight up time travel. But unlike Takemitchi, there is no current ‘her’ that could be in autopilot mode like in the timeline where she left, she straight up disappears and just arrive in the future where she have been missing for years with no trace.

sdlkfjnskdjnfsd time leaper anon! we're finally here!! after 3 drafts and over 3 months i made it (almost) on time! admittedly, i didn't manage to write as much as i originally hoped to, but that's all right too - there's always the next chapter hohoho ;) also as usual, i didn't proofread because that was a lie, so i'll be doing minor corrections along the way.

early Happy Holidays/Merry Christmas to everybody!

‎‎

Recommended Reading: A Friend In Me

Masterlist

tw: yandere, afab reader

‎

Going Home: Chapter 1

Yandere Platonic Toman

“Fuck fuck fuck -” Hurtling round yet another corner of the seemingly endless maze of dark and narrow alleyways that winded every which way behind Shibuya’s glitz and glamorous main streets, the sound of his racing heart rang and echoed between his ears was still not enough to drown out the roars of men calling out to find him, their pounding footsteps drawing closer even as his own desperately tried to carry him further. Even when the occasional ring of gunfire and bullets biting into the brick walls - a fate he was sure awaited him should they catch up - died away on the orders barked out by a familiar voice, one that cut easily through the chaos, that didn’t reassure Takemichi in the slightest. After all, he knew very well it wasn’t him they were concerned about hitting. The already harsh grip he had on your clammy hand only tightened as the black-haired man forced you to move your jelly legs at his unbearable pace lest you be dragged along, the stretch of brick wall flashed past you at a dizzying speed. “Come on, we gotta move!”

“Tak-Takemichi. I can’t.” Said man only pressed on, your soft, tired mutter lost in his tailwind. The smell of rotting food and stagnant drains that was whipped up as the two of you raced past didn’t help much with your already shallow breathing, but all you could do was alternate between hacking and gagging, struggling to catch a break at the brutal pace set by the other, a pace that usually wouldn’t even have you miss a beat. Yet under just the dim remnant light that radiated down to street level from the overhanging apartments, the sheen of sweat that had built up on your brow would have been clear to anyone that could spare you a glance, the beads of perspiration leaving you shivering as it trickled down to frame your ashen face.

Head whipping left and right at every junction, a life-and-death decision that loomed over as every second ticked on, Takemichi was too caught up in the moment to notice your growing weariness as the desperation for an escape - somewhere to hide, somewhere to rest, anywhere but here - overwhelmed him, the labyrinth of similar back alleys and deadends mocking his every move, eating away at his mind.

Every single future, every possible timeline, they were all converging for reasons beyond both Naoto and him, though the one thing they were positively certain of was that you were somehow at the center of it all. It had always been you.

A few more minutes of unrelenting running was the limit of your fading strength, and a weak tug was his only warning before your legs finally gave way beneath you, the sudden dead weight weighing down one arm almost tripping the other if not for you freeing your hand from his grip. Spinning around, Takemichi could only watch in horror as you collapsed onto the ground, a flower petal wrenching free and drifting ever so gently towards the ground. The exhaustion that you had been bravely fighting, that permeated every pore of your body, was now as clear as the break of dawn in a never ending night to your partner, those gentle eyes he knew that were once full of life and fondness now completely glazed over. But time marched on uncaringly, the voices and his very uncomfortable fate drawing closer with every tick of his cheap watch.

“Run, ‘Michi.” The quiet mumble was carried by a gentle draft that floated it above the unfolding turmoil, yet the unspoken implication that came with your two simple words lingered in the air.

It was never supposed to end like this; not with your panting figure left behind on the filthy ground slowly blurring until you finally vanished from view as Takemichi scrambled round another corner. When he and Naoto first found hope in his time-leaping abilities, the chance at a better future, the last thing they had wanted was to drag in yet another innocent party - to involve you of all people. Lifting one arm to hurriedly wipe at the sweat pouring from his forehead, the man only realized that far from being sweat, it was the hot, fat tears, the same ones that now burned his cheeks as they welled up and tumbled free, that had been blurring his vision and stinging his eyes, though he didn’t have any time to waste on that, the rampage of feet resounding across every wall of this cursed network of alleys failing to end despite him now being all alone.

Sprinting past a row of doors that that he vaguely recalled as back entrances to various shops and restaurants, the fatigue that had been steadily building and weighing down his legs was all but certain to jeopardize his escape when a sharp, abrupt wretch had Takemichi flying off his feet sideways. The inky black that swallowed him whole was barely a comfort in his final minutes, yet the few moments were long enough to have his life - his regrets - flash before his eyes, and the one memory that stood out left, right and center being a throwback to how he first found himself embroiled knee-deep in this mess.

‎

“Listen, Takemichi.”

The evening sunlight that flooded through drawn curtains and gently danced its way around the studio apartment to the rustling of the foliage outside, reflecting off polished wooden shelves and worn counters, was a sharp contrast from the severity that underlied those two words from Naoto, the detective looking worriedly serious with his head perched atop clasped hands. And that was all it took to earn Takemichi’s full attention, his ramblings on the past that had been freely pouring from his mouth instantly coming to a complete stop, jaw snapping shut with a click. “I don’t know what you changed in the past, but this future - it's different. Not better, worse.”

Having woken up back in the video rental store despite seeing neither head nor tail of Kisaki, this time employed as a manager instead of a lowly staff member, Takemichi had been inclined to believe the best had happened - that he had somehow managed to prevent Hina’s future death, that this was the better future. Yet unbeknownst to him, the few moments he took to adjust back to the present, one so far removed from the life he led just a couple of minutes prior, were also only the few moments where the current timeline did indeed seem brighter. One quick search was all it took to bring his whole world crashing back down around him, the small, painfully bright screen of his old cell only reflecting the exact same tragic fate for his former girlfriend, a destined death that she seemed to be unable to escape from. That he seemed to be unable to change. At least Naoto’s face peering in through dusty glass doors, one hand lifted to cover the glare of the afternoon sun, was somewhat of a relief to see - a reminder that Takemichi wasn’t alone in this.

“Toman?” Takemichi ventured.

Naoto only seemed to look even grimmer in the shadow of dusk, the dark of the night creeping across the sky outside casting an ominous shadow over his eyes, the squeak of rubber against worn wood as the detective’s laptop was turned to face the other failing to break the tension that hung heavy in the air. “Toman no longer exists. Only Bonten.”

Takemichi's brow only seemed to crease further and further as Naoto briefly ran through Bonten's portfolio of crimes, the images that flashed across the small screen telling a brutal and savage story far from what he knew from the past. Heinous crimes with graphic details, countless lives touched and ruined, unspeakable devastation, yet all the police could legally say was that they had no hard evidence tying the horrendous torment Takemichi was witnessing to the movements of the shadowy organization. “As far as we know, Bonten emerged from the remnants of Toman after that gang fell apart. At the present moment, we can’t even say for sure who the executives are.”

“And Mikey?”

The deepening grimace was all too telling. “We think that he may be the boss given that he was the head of Toman, but it’s only a guess. No pictures, no evidence, nothing.”

The silence that fell over the small studio apartment was far from comforting but necessary - it must be hard for Takemichi to accept that this was their current reality, given that the past he just returned from seemed so much greener.

Yet Naoto had no chance to prepare himself, even with the minute of silence, when the next thing to tumble out from Takemichi’s lips was your name, him whirling around the next instant to see his stunned face reflected in those clear blue eyes. A few seconds had merrily ticked by on his old wall clock before Naoto finally realized why Takemichi wasn’t answering him; his questions trapped in the confines of his brain as his lips only mouthed the thoughts that raced through his mind. Taking a deep breath and pulling himself together, Naoto tried once more, with one question standing out right, left and center at the forefront of his mind. “Where did you hear that name?” The detective demanded, though the brief loss of his usual collectedness was lost on the other.

Furrowed eyebrows set into a concentrated expression, one that had overtaken Takemichi’s face as the curious memory of you surfaced, quickly gave way to a quizzical one, gaze lifting to meet the detective’s troubled eyes. “She was with Mikey-kun and Draken-kun at the fight three days ago.”

Even with the remnant heat of what had been a burning afternoon still lingering in the small studio, the former delinquent still shivered with the recollection of the sheer brutality put on show that day - it might have been in the unreturnable past at this point, but knowing that he had to go back and face the duo again did not bode well for both his physical and mental wellbeing.

Grasping the edge of his dining table turned office desk, Naoto found himself falling back into his chair, his legs no longer able to take his weight despite just the few minutes he’s been on his feet, the wheels of the well-worn office chair squeaking as it rolled backwards slightly under the force. One hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose, annoyance welling up in his chest against his better judgment - that name again. It was always your bloody name that popped up in his reports.

But lost in his thoughts on your soft gaze and kind smile, Takemichi failed to notice the growing weariness and annoyance in the younger Tachibana sibling at having to yet again take you into his considerations and equations. “Toman shouldn’t have turned out this way, not with her there.”

All he received was a despondent sigh from Naoto, the light ring of the wind chime that hung outside his living room combined with the final choir of bird chirps erupting from outside his window signaling the coming of the night, as he replaced his hand on the familiar wooden tabletop, fingers now tapping out an unrecognizable rhythm. This whole mess they were in, he wouldn’t be surprised if it really just boiled down to you. It seemed like it was always you at the end of every road. “Why not you fill me in on what happened in the past first?”

Another sigh, this time escaping from Takemichi’s lips, filled the silence as the last dying rays of sun disappeared beyond the horizon. “Is that really important right now?”

“More so than you think. Start from when Sano Manjiro showed up.”

Takemichi slumped back into the chair, its joints creaking and groaning from the impact, giving his messy mob of hair a ruffle - even if his showdown with Kiyomasa was now in the unreturnable past, and the bruises and wounds had long faded from his body twelve years on, it had really just been yesterday for him. The thought of having to recall that dreadful period of his life once more was enough to make him shudder, but still he started. “Right, so I was getting the shit beaten out of me -”

‎

“Oy Kiyomasa.” The sky had been clear blue, the wind blowing in from open water cool and gentle as it kissed his sweaty, filthy skin, the gorgeous weather a complete contrast to the hell that Takemichi has just been through. Yet even in his battered and bruised state, barely able to see out of swollen black eyes that he couldn’t remember acquiring, the sight of an exceptionally tall figure - Toman’s Vice Captain Draken, or so he heard Yamagishi exclaimed from across the makeshift arena - casually strolling in his direction was more intimidating than Kiyomasa could have ever hoped to look. “You’re scaring the crowd.”

Then Mikey - Sano Manjiro himself - appeared, and the atmosphere was somehow electrified even further. Deep bows, Kiyomasa getting a foot to his stomach, Takemichi could hardly process what had happened before he found himself fallen over quaking, the Toman President face to face with him. It was hard to believe his luck, his rotten luck that is, with Mikey instantly declaring him his new friend upon butchering his name. Or maybe it had been bitch, the ringing in his ears from his previous beating preventing Takemichi from making out what exactly was said. Though even at this point, as Mikey stood from where he had been all but squatted over him, when Takemichi thought he was finally free and that his part had been played, the heavens disagreed - they didn’t seem quite done with their goal of making his life as miserable as possible.

“Mikey? Ken-chin?”

Mikey swung around, Takemichi just catching a glimpse of the confusion that briefly flashed in the other’s empty eyes. And your name came tumbling out of the Toman President’s lips in a bewildered mutter, almost as if he was equally as baffled to see your delicate figure as Takemichi was, the same draft that rustled your brown paper bag that hung off one arm floating your name and dispersing it across the otherwise silent area. More surprising to Takemichi was the unsettling pulse of deep bows that promptly radiated outwards, row upon row of the same rowdy delinquents that had minutes ago had been cheering as Takemichi kissed the pavement again and again now a muted crowd folded in half, eyes turned towards the ground with arms folded neatly behind their backs, shaking with either effort or fear Takemichi couldn’t say. Whether it was either or, one thing that shone through as clear as the light of the sun that reigned the afternoon sky, the same sun whose rays glimmered in your gently blown hair, was that every person present had something to fear from you.

He doubted that it was your fighting prowess, not with how soft your figure was or how glass-like your hands looked. And Takemichi knew that he probably shouldn’t be staring jaw dropped as you slowly closed the distance between you and your friends - even the Mizo Middle Five having disappeared among the mass of third years, Yamagishi probably having the sense to force Suzuki’s and Yamamoto’s head down with him. With Mikey very obviously turning to scan the crowd with those intimidating black eyes, that was probably the right move, thought Takemichi, yet he couldn’t quite seem to turn his gaze, his body stubbornly frozen in place despite his mind all but screaming for him to just move.

In that moment, there was no worse decision that Kiyomasa could have made as the light tap of your shoes against the cement pavement neared him, the realization of who you were setting in only after his eyes swung up to meet your large doe ones. But it was too late to change course, Draken having caught the curious glimpse he chanced at you, and in a blink, the air changed. No words were exchanged, no words needed to be exchanged, the fury that sparked and raged behind the Vice Captain’s eyes enough to scare the living daylight out of Takemichi, let alone the force of the punch that met Kiyomasa’s face. Far beyond the impact of the kick from earlier that already had the boy doubled over, which now seemed more and more like a mere chastise for his disrespect towards Mikey, this round was a full-on curb stomp, the crunch of bone mixing with cries of pain rising in a chilling orchestra had every delinquent’s hair standing on ends Kiyomasa was sent flying, head whipping backwards as he crashed bodily into the same railings where Takemichi had previously found his own face smashed against.

Though there was no rest for the wicked, his bully from another life being dragged up from where he was slumped and panting by his hair to meet Draken’s eyes, with no amount of prying able to make a dent in the Vice Captain’s forceful single-handed grip. “So you really think you’re god today, huh? Should I get on my fucking knees?” Draken drawled out, but it was a question that he wasn’t inclined to have an answer for, seeing as he instantly sent Kiyomasa soaring through the air once more, back towards the cowed crowd. “Who gave you the right to lay your filthy eyes on her?”

Yet neither of you seemed particularly bothered by the complete beatdown going on just a stone’s throw away, even as the rest of the Toman members dared not to even catch a glimpse of their once-leader being obliterated. “You’re not allowed to be here. I said to wait on my bike.” A statement, not a question, but it was clear that there was no bite behind Mikey’s words, not with the way he gently took your comparatively fragile hand into his own, bundling himself into your awaiting arms and burying his face into your shoulder.

“Came to see what was taking you boys so long.” You hummed out, lifting one hand to run your fingers soothingly through his hair, the sound of shifting boxes clattering against each other alerting Takemichi to the groaning paper bag slung over one arm. Almost domestic was how he would have described the unlikely scene unfolding before him, Takemichi barely able to accept that the blond-haired Toman President that was now busy tugging at the fabric of school uniform and insisting on a piece of taiyaki while you gently let him down was the same merciless man that lead the Toman of his future. Were they missing something? Did Naoto get the wrong man?

There was no time for his train of thoughts, the all-too familiar sensation of his gut wrenching in despair bringing him out from his contemplation as his mind registered that your gaze had shifted down to meet his, where he had been still staring slack jawed and wide eyed up at you. Your brow now furrowed in what seemed like concern, you shifted to offer him a hand. “Are you alright?”

Fuck - was all that he had time to think, Takemichi almost robotically turning away from you to instead see Mikey’s gaze swing onto him with what he prayed wasn’t irate eyes, the afternoon sun that crawled across the sky in its neverending journey now casting an intimidating shadow over the boy’s eyes yet offering no warmth to him as his blood ran cold. Was it his turn to be beaten into a pulp by Draken and Mikey? Was he going to the other side on this fine afternoon?

His sole condolence was that at least Hina wasn’t here to see him cry.

But all Mikey did was to grab your outstretched hand, intertwining his fingers with yours and huffing as he turned you away from Takemichi, his other free hand reaching up to grab and squeeze your cheeks. “Don’t talk to him.”

“Alright, Mikey.” Was all you managed to get out, a fond sigh escaping you when Mikey released your face from his grip. You must be used to it, reasoned Takemichi, right before he got back to thanking his lucky stars above that for once, shined down on him at just the right moment. It wasn’t his time to go.

You instead turned your attention to the other still rampaging boy. “Ken-chin, come on, lunch is getting cold.”

The final groan of pain, combined with the sound of flesh hitting the ground as Kiyomasa's broken body was uncaringly tossed aside all but indicated the end of the beatdown. Yet the sheer anger that had been painted on the Vice Captain's face failed to fade, Takemichi's hair instantly standing back on end even from a distance as that frightful look was shifted in his general direction.

But you didn’t seem the least bit bothered when Draken confronted you with an aggressive ‘Huh?!’, bloodied fists held stiffly at his sides - and you were right to be, the hostile look evaporated as soon as those large doe eyes of yours swung up from Mikey to meet the other’s, an almost soft smile breaking through to quirk his lips.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you there being all chummy.” It was with nothing but care and gentleness, a far cry from what had been dealt to Kiyomasa, that Draken drilled his knuckles into the top of your head, the same ones that had once been dirtied with blood and carelessly wiped on Kiyomasa’s soiled shirt, you giggling at the funny feeling, releasing Mikey from your arm to instead throw a quick hug around the other. The amusement on his face was gone in the next instant though as the Vice Captain turned his attention back to the hunched over crowd, dismissing the still quavering delinquents with a bored wave. “Break it up everybody. Don’t tarnish Toman’s name with stupid shit like underground fights.”

You must truly be someone special to be able to tame the notorious Toman leaders, Takemichi mused, watching as Draken flushed you tight against his side, his towering figure shielding the sight of a passed out Kiyomasa from you as he guided you away, Mikey letting out an inaudible grumble only to eagerly grab at your offered hand. But other than your genuine kindness, one that shone through clearly from the depths of your eyes, there was little he could pinpoint about you that would explain their protectiveness. What was it that drew them to you? That had Draken react that badly to Kiyomasa’s supposed insult?

‎

“Yamagishi basically told me I was lucky to walk away alive and asked how I did it. And then Suzuki asked me if she was really as pretty up close as she was from a distance." Takemichi trailed off, eyes hazy from his memories, staring blankly at one of the many bookcases that lined the walls of the small apartment.

Allowing the last statement to simply wash over him, Naoto instead took the next few minutes to digest the information dump he had just received while Takemichi was still caught up in his recent past, breaking down what Takemichi had observed about the relationship between Toman and you, and matching it up to what he currently knew. Even with new information that no one had been privy to, the detective’s conclusion was that there were still many gaps - too many gaps for comfort - but the pieces were at least starting to have a semblance of connection. “Now that you’ve told me this, everything somewhat adds up.”

“Toman -”

“Bonten,” Naoto corrected, lips now set back in his usual grim line.

“She would have stopped Mikey, hands down!” Insisted Takemichi.

"She's missing." Naoto sighed, hands reaching up to rub at his weary eyes. Between his usual day job and Bonten, he’s never been quite able to catch a break. “Been missing for twelve years now.”

Takemichi’s dropped jaw came as no surprise, the gears turning in his head all too obvious. “Missing?! But how?” With Mikey and Draken so protective over you, it seemed impossible that you could have vanished without at least a Toman-wide manhunt. Or even the mass destruction of Tokyo City. There was no way you would have stayed missing for long, so what happened?

“The first missing report was filed on 10th August. And that’s all we know.” Naoto continued, once more turning his trusty laptop to Takemichi, the screen lit with a scanned document, your face beaming back at him from one corner. “We need more information leading up to this incident.”

The next few days flew by in a blink. Between Akkun’s death and digging further through countless police reports, Takemichi doubted he managed much sleep, the face filled with unmitigated fear and sorrow right before his bestfriend took that fateful last step still haunting the black behind his eyelids. The rustling of paper behind him went unnoticed, though Naoto was quick to snap Takemichi out from his spiraling thoughts, shoving what at first glance looked just like an old newspaper article into his shaking hands. “I found it.”

“This is?”

“Draken’s death. Huge gang fight on 3rd August. And then one week later -”

“She disappears.”

“Exactly. This must have been behind Toman’s breakup and Boten’s formation.”

Takemichi’s gaze snapped to meet Naoto’s. “But that’s just two weeks away!”

A small smirk quirked the detective’s lips as he stretched out his hand. That spark of hope in the blue of Takemichi’s eyes - he could see it again. “Better get going then. Two weeks time, you’ll have to stop Draken from dying -

“And stop her from disappearing.”

“Understand? That’s your next mission.”

“Alright. I’ll try my best.” Clasping hands with Naoto, it took but a blink, and Takemichi awoke to find himself on the back of Akkun’s bicycle.

‎

‎

You blinked.

This - this was bad. You had absolutely no idea where you were, and your phone battery was dead, even though you were certain that it was at least half full at the end of the school day just an hour before.

At least this place still perhaps looked somewhat familiar, you tried to convince yourself, squinting at what looked like the end of the narrow alleyway you somehow found yourself. Maybe the light at the end of this seemingly endless alleyway lined with an equally endless number of bricks was the one that led to your school gates - actually, scratch that - it wasn’t familiar at all. The towering, unmarked buildings that flanked both sides of this backlane gave you no further clues as to where you were, and neither did the blank brick walls that flanked both sides.

Groaning, you dropped your bag on the ground, squatting down to hide your face in your hands as you squeezed your eyes shut, left to ponder how you found yourself in this situation. Had you been nabbed? Was someone playing a prank on you? Was this just a dream? All you could recall was that it had been a long day of school, and after spending the entire week shuttling between school and the hospital, caring for Draken after his operation and helping him get back on his feet, all the while making sure the rest of your Toman friends were holding up fine, you had inevitably fallen asleep while waiting for Mikey to come round to pick you up after school, the heat of the afternoon too lulling, too comfortable to resist.

Maybe when you opened your eyes back up, you would be out of this nightmare and your friend would be there. Sadly, it was not to be, the same brick wall where you were sure had been a road just minutes ago still filling your entire line of sight.

Sighing as you picked yourself and your school bag up, your feet picked one of two directions to start in, and off you went. Surely it was better to just leave the alley and navigate from wherever you popped out. And as it turns out, that had been one of your better decisions, the neighborhood that you had reappeared in was one that you knew like the back of your hand, though the school that you had been attending was now surprisingly gone, with just a large grass patch standing where the building had been. Buildings vanishing in minutes was not an area you were specialized in, though you did file that information away in the back of your head.

Perhaps you should try going home, you mused, the idea seeming better and better as you once more started down familiar roads, your school bag swinging a little in your light grip; you could at least check if your house was still where you had left it this morning, seeing as your school had upped and left. Yes, that would be a good idea.

Your key still worked, the lock of your front door turning effortlessly like it had done so hundreds of times before, and you felt the weight on your chest instantly lifting as you stepped through your doorway - no matter the situation you were in, home was at least still where you remembered it to be. The small porcelain bowl rang with that same familiar crystal chime as your keys were delicately set down, the narrow wooden counter that it sat atop as spotless and worn as you had left it this morning, the hum that bubbled through your lips chasing away the silence permeating the shadows that filled every crevice of your house.

The dim lights that lined the ceiling of your stairwell were barely bright enough to illuminate the floor, but your feet still easily found its footing on every step - you could probably do it in your sleep as well. Yet the comfort and familiarity that being back home only served to dull your caution, blinding you to the monsters that once slept within the darkness stirring to life, the tiniest glint of light reflecting off the glass of a small camera trailing your movements from the shadows of the ceiling going unnoticed.

Carefully placing your school bag onto your neatly tucked away chair, you allowed yourself to collapse onto your bed, a huff escaping your lips as you nestled your face amidst the fresh linen. But even as you took a deep breath, attempting to will the anxiety that settled at the bottom of your gut away, the smell that hit your nose instantly set off a new wave of panic - your sheets were fresh. Too fresh.

Sirens now blaring in your head, you scrambled to throw yourself off the offending object.

The shadows that danced around your room looked a lot more menacing now than ever, lapping at the last rays of light that streamed through your window from the dim yellow streetlight outside, determined to devour everything in sight. Hands unconsciously bunching and clutching at the skirt of your school uniform, you cast a quick glance around, ever so carefully backing off and away from the bed towards your wardrobes. It seemed that the nerves that still tingled your skin were right - you supposed your mind had been subconsciously picking out the unsettling details in your home all this time.

What was going on?

Though you barely had time to complete that thought before something from the dark touched your shoulder, sending you leaping what must have been a foot into the air. What was quickly revealed to be a hand - a man’s gloved hand - was faster, slapping itself over your mouth as your unknown assaulter shoved you backwards and up against the sliding doors of your cupboards, the soft thud as your back hit the wood the first sound you had heard since returning home. How the other had followed you up to your room with barely a creak or footstep was beyond you - a ghost perhaps, an evil spirit.

But he wasn’t a ghost, the man leaning in towards you, the light of his phone’s screen clearly illuminating the glimmering silver of his single drop earring, and the massive jagged scar that crossed the entirety of the left half of his face, kissing the tip of what seemed to be an impaired eye and disappearing behind his black undercut, right above his ear.

‎

‎

“You gotta be fucking with me,” Kakucho breathed.

The Bonten Number 3 wasn’t sure what to think when the alert had first been raised of someone matching your general description leaving the vicinity of where Bonten had once razed your school to the ground. Over the many years that he had served Mikey faithfully, having been entrusted with scouring the entirety of Tokyo and Japan for you, there had been several false alarms raised, yet he had never come close to finding even a whiff of you. But squinting at the grainy footage of a CCTV camera, one of several that continued to devotedly watch over the same streets where you had vanished twelve years ago, the spark of hope that it could perhaps really be you this round ignited once more. Your hair, your figure, it matched too closely for it not to be you.

Maybe this search that he had never been permitted to stop could finally be drawn to a close.

The black-haired man had been in the midst of preparations when the second alarm was raised: there was now movement detected in your residence. And that was when the scrambling truly began, Kakucho cursing and swearing out loud as he hurriedly tucked his gun into its holster under his coat, barking out orders to the waiting men on his way out the door. Either you had somehow reappeared out of thin air, or there was a burglar with a death wish.

If Bonten had been alerted, then so has the police, with his insider information indicating that the police had been keeping tabs on the area around your house, given the enormous bounty that was placed on your safe return, combined with the fact that your residence had been bought out by a front company several years ago.

Now here you were, standing right before him, large trembling doe eyes freely displaying your fear, the unshed tears welling at the corners of your eyes glittering in the soft light of his phone - an exact replica of the girl from the picture he had pulled up on his phone. Not of those year-on-year aged up mockups they had professionally done of you, no, the you that he was now face-to-face with was a carbon copy of the single photo that Mikey had reluctantly sent to him for searching purposes, the photo of you from twelve years ago. You looked exactly the same as the day you vanished.

“Don’t scream,” warned Kakucho, before he carefully removed his gloved hand from your mouth, though it seemed that his caution was unnecessary, you barely daring to breathe even as your ashen face and quaking eyes continued to stare at him, the only movement being your shaking hands bundling more of your uniform into their grip. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but the wail of sirens that had started up in the distance indicated that his time spent in your cozy little room was up. “Right, you’re coming with me.”

There was no resistance from you, allowing Kakucho to gently usher you out of the room, the men - armed with very real guns you noted at the back of your still-whirling mind - that had been gathered in the corridor around your bedroom door parting to let the two of you through. Who was he? Why did he look like he had seen a ghost? And what did he want from you?

Stopping for just mere moments to help you slide on your shoes, the blue and red flashes splashed across buildings and drawing ever closer all but confirming Kakucho’s suspicions - the police really were keeping tabs on you because of your link to Bonten. With every second now counting down until they arrived, the man found good reason to instead sweep you off your feet and into his arms, carrying you the last six steps to bundle you into the awaiting car alongside him. The car had peeled away from the street before your seatbelt had clicked close, the well-maintained tyres barely making a squeak against the asphalt even as the streets outside your window blurred together.

A muffled thud as the back of his head hit the plush headrest; if you were really who he thought you were, then the sigh of relief that Kakucho let out under his breath at having not pulled his gun on you would be warranted. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if you had started crying, or worse, if Mikey had found out you had to look down the barrel of his gun - just the extent the Bonten boss had been willing to go to to have you back by his side again was a clear enough threat in itself.

‎

‎

The car ride was silent. The worst kind of silence, in your opinion - quiet and awkward, with not even the radio playing and the partition between the back seat and the drive, like those that you’ve seen celebrities have, completely raised. According to the movies you watched, this wasn’t how an actual kidnapping was supposed to go, though you weren’t complaining - it was far better to ride up here than in the boot. Plus you weren't even tied up or blindfolded, free to watch unfamiliar buildings whiz by your tinted window. You turned to look at your captor quietly staring out his own window, the passing streetlights occasionally illuminated his contemplating face. Maybe he was just new at this?

Not that you would ask anyway, your companion’s aura a tad too intimidating for you to consider.

Mercifully for you, the trip came to a quick end, the car door swinging open to reveal what on first glance you assumed was the lobby of a luxury hotel. The glimmer of polished marble that lined every step from the foyer, where the car had stopped, carving a path towards the lobby hidden behind thick glass doors, was intimidating, yet your captor still ever so gently helped you out of the car, guiding you along without a moment’s hesitation, you noting that his stance had relaxed compared to when he had been in the car. Almost as if he was home, your mind told you, but you shook that thought away. You couldn’t afford to slip into the illusion of safety and lose sight of the situation you were in. The bulge where you had spotted his gun during the ride here, tucked away in a hoster beneath his coat, had been a wake up call - after all, people didn’t usually carry guns if they didn't mean to use it. People don’t usually carry guns, period. Maybe if you just went along, they’ll let you go. After all, it wasn’t like you had anything they wanted.

Yet you couldn’t help yourself, your eyes widening in awe as you stepped into the lobby past the glass door, barely noticing the click of a lock as the light glittering and reflected in almost everything around you, the shine reflected in your doe eyes as you whirled around, trying to take everything in. Expensive was an understatement, with every inch of the ornate foyer seemed to be lavished with gold or marble or exotic woods and carved with extravagant designs, what looked like priceless art and statues artfully littering the area. Craning your head up as far as your neck would go, the chandelier that hung above the two of you from high ceilings was easily the biggest you had ever seen in your life, dwarving even those you had seen in the movies - every teardrop crystal that hung from silver handles probably a fortune in its own right. Even the grand staircase that curved and met in the middle with a flourish glittered in its light, not a speck of dirt to be had on any step or railing. But you didn’t have time to appreciate the grandeur, your captor instead leading you to one corner of the deserted lobby.

From behind you, the creak of a door swinging open, the black-haired man that had been gripping your shoulder instantly releasing you as he turned to meet the newcomer.

“Leave, Kakucho.”

Just two words, but it was clear that the man’s statement was an order, not a suggestion, your now-named kidnapper immediately departing the room seemingly through the same doorway the other came through with naught a backward glance.

The door closed gently behind him, the soft click as the latch sprung back into place that echoed around the giant lobby a forbidding reminder - it was now just you and him. But you knew even to assume that would be wrong, no. Thinking that the other’s focus had been on anyone except you would be lying to yourself; you knew, it had always just been you and him in this room right from the moment he had entered, the feeling of his sharp gaze tearing into your back all too acute in your mind.

Yet, you still couldn’t quite tell what it was that had set off that basic fight-or-flight instinct - maybe it was the sense of danger that seemed to radiate from his mere presence, or the slow, menacing footsteps that had the dread weighing on your chest grow heavier as he drew closer to you from behind. No matter what it was that had your body tensing up and freezing even as your mind screamed at you to fight, to move, to just turn around, you found that you couldn't force yourself to take even a step. The final step that finally closed the distance between you and him, his breath tickling your skin - and all you could do was watch black sleeves that hung off bony arms come into view as he ever so carefully, so hesistantly wrapped them around your waist, pressing his face slowly into the back of your neck.

“I found you.” He whispered into your skin, a hushed prayer that echoed across the empty room. “I finally found you.”

Arms tightening around your waist, the shaking of his hands, the same two that clutched desperately to the fabric of your school shirt, almost as if you would vanish should he dare to let go, wasn’t lost on you, and neither were the hot tears that scalded your sensitive skin as they dripped free and rolled down your back, drenching the shirt of your school uniform. And you let him, bringing up one hand to rest ever so gently on his, the air conditioning continuing to whirl gently from the high ceilings as your quiet humming joined the suppressed whimpers and rustle of clothes in breaking the stillness of the room.

Even if you didn’t quite know what was going on or who your mysterious captor was, the fact remained that he needed you right now, and you didn’t quite have the heart or stomach to turn away someone in need.

‎

‎

Mikey was never quite sure what he would say to you if - no, when - he found you. Or rather what he should say to you. It was something that he had agonized over for twelve years ever since your sudden disappearance, every last word that he had wanted to tell you; to ask you why you left, to blame you for his torment, to beg for your forgiveness for whatever they did to drive you away.

He didn’t believe, couldn’t dare to believe, the single-line code phrase that had his phone screen light up and ring with that stomach-turning chime - the same one you used all those years ago. She’s coming home. You’re coming home. It must have been another false alarm. It had to be. Yet Mikey still pulled himself up from where he had been slumped, gun lightly swinging from one hand as he strolled down empty corridors, all the while swearing to himself that he would put his 3rd seat down for good this time. Because it was still hope, disgusting hope, that surged through his chest like a swarm of locusts that maybe this time, this time it could be real. And when the door opened to reveal an extremely familiar back, your back, even as the same thought of what he wanted to tell you surfaced once more, all his words seemed to have left him.

Were you just another hallucination here to haunt him? Was this payment for his crimes, his sins? Your familiar smell, your soft touch, your warm skin from his deepest dreams, his darkest nightmares that had plagued his every night spent alone with no one but his thoughts - so close yet so distant. But as he once again bundled you into his arms, pressed his face into the crook of your neck, breathed in your scent, it became undoubtedly clear. It was you. It was really, truly you.

‎

‎

The second hands of the twelve clocks that hung on one wall at the far end of the lobby, one for Tokyo and the others for distant cities that you only read about, unwaveringly ran their course round the clock face, the merry ticking indicating time continuing to flow by in an unending stream. Yet it felt like no time had passed at all within the four walls of the lobby, with you still locked in a grip with a stranger you couldn’t see, watching the outside world turn as a simple observer from behind thick glass doors. As his trembling slowly stilled and his grip on you loosened, the sudden realization of the situation you were actually trapped in - that you had been kidnapped for one - washed over you, and your stomach began to churn once more. Who were they? Who was he? What did they want from you? And more importantly, had you really been soothing your captor, the same person that had you brought here against your will?

Finally freeing you from his arms, taking a step back and away from you, the tension that filled the air was instantly palpable, your chest heavy with the weight of anticipation, which only increased with every soft tap of his slippers against the granite floor until you could barely breathe. It was the few moments you had to quickly process your own thoughts that somehow brought about your hesitation - did you really want to know who he was? Would that somehow be your downfall?

But any doubts that you had evaporated as the same footsteps gradually carried your captor into view, first the black of his hanging pants, then the white of his undercut, framing a familiar yet unfamiliar face. One that you both knew so very well yet not at all, standing a mere arm’s length away, black blank eyes that both hid and told everything in their endless abyss.

“Mikey?” Bringing both hands up to gently cup his face, your friend melting into your touch was the only response you needed - it was truly him. With the confirmation came the questions that flooded your mind - why he looked so different, why he had you nabbed from your home, where were the rest of your Toman friends - a rampage that you quickly pushed to the back of your mind, having not the heart to ask him. Not with the way Mikey seemed to be quietly soaking in your presence, not with how frail and sickly this Mikey looked against the lifely Mikey you saw just yesterday, against your own delicate hands, and not with the almost black eyebags that hung low under both his eyes. “Are you not eating and sleeping well, Mikey?”

It wasn’t the first thing he thought you would say upon your reunion, but somehow, someway, deep down, it was always what he had expected. No matter what you were going through, you were still worried for him. Tired eyes fluttered close as he allowed you to tenderly dance your fingers across his skin and under his eyes.

Softly tracing sharp cheekbones, the remnants of the soft, fleshy cheeks you knew from twelve years prior, the gauntness that haunted Mikey’s face made your stomach churn - he looked so sickly. So weary from the burdens of life. Releasing him from your fussing, there was no objection from your friend when you bundled him into your arms, allowing him to bury his face into your chest as you ran one hand through his hair like you always did, letting a hum bubble out, the same tune from that old song that you loved so much. And so the two of you stood for a moment longer, the deserted lobby frozen in time with you, neither in a hurry to move even as the rest of the world raced on.

Then a yawn, the first that you failed to swallow, escaped your lips, breaking the little rhythm you had going up till now, though you could hardly blame yourself - it had really been a long day. “Would you like to go and lie down for a bit, Mikey?”

“With you?” Came Mikey’s cautious, almost hesitant question, his slender fingers still tangled up in your shirt not lost on you, as if he found it hard to believe that you were truly here with him. Your heart broke once more. What has your friend been through?

Opting to instead allow an indulgent smile to creep onto your face, you pressed a kiss to his forehead, the fear and uncertainty that you had felt chilling your bones when you had first stepped foot in this foreign place now dissipating into the cool air wafting down from high ceilings. “Of course.”

Sliding his hand into yours, his grip was soft, tender as he led you not back through the small, nondescript door he had entered by, but up the grand staircase and down a seemingly endless number of luxuriously furnished corridors, each as glamorous, if not more so, than the previous, and through countless doors. Paintings and sculptures and vases lined every available wall, glittering in its own individual spotlight against the dark of the wood panels, the contrast enough to make your head spin. The building must be massive, you deduced, Mikey leading you past yet another junction where the hallways branched off again towards an unknown destination, the same plush, spotless carpet stretching out forever into the distance. How Mikey even knew where to go was beyond you, and your grip on your friend’s hand tightened ever so slightly - you would hate to be lost here.

You were absolutely exhausted by the time Mikey had tugged you to his intended destination, the neatly made bed a siren’s call to you as you stumbled through the doorway, pausing only to kick off your shoes and place them to the side of the door before you collapsed onto the mattress, already asleep before your head hit the soft covers. Yet the white-haired man still only stood and watched on, the soft snorts that escaped your nose as you tried to bury yourself deeper into the sheets lightly ruffling the surrounding cloth, echoing in the otherwise silent room.

It was you, truly you. Twelve years, Mikey thought, you letting out a quiet whine as he delicately maneuvered your sleeping frame to tuck you under his warm blanket. Twelve years of suffering, twelve years of torment without you there to soothe away his fears, to lift the tears of his eyes, to take him into your comforting arms. There was no more waiting to be done, Mikey allowing himself to finally join you, snuggling himself under the sheets and up tight against your chest as he once more wrapped his arms around you, face pressed into your shirt, every breath that he took only of you and your familiar scent. His search was over. It was really you. And for the first time in many years, with you back in his arms and him in yours, the black of sleep was a welcomed relief.

‎

‎

Takemichi awoke to the blaring of his phone going off at full volume. It was his supposed last day in the past, having spent the entire week ensuring that Draken was recovering well, bathing in the awe of his schoolmates, and otherwise setting his affairs in order before his return to the future. Sleepy eyes blinking slowly, the boy was soon scrambling up at the sight of the name on the small screen, fully awake. Yet before he could even speak, the voice that boomed over the tiny speaker was enough to burst his eardrums. "Takemitchy, get your ass over here now."

"...Draken-kun?"

A pause, the pandemonium raging on the other end all too clear over the phone. Loud bangs, screaming, Draken swearing at someone to shut the fuck up and sit down, before things seemed to calm enough for the Vice Captain to elaborate. "She's missing. It's all hands on deck."

Click.

Looking up to see his own ashen face reflected in the mirror, Takemichi was sure that the wrenching feeling in his abdomen was his heart dropping to the bottom of his gut. Fuck.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

May I have a 🍋 with Rook and Deuce, romantic please.

Ohhh, I see we have a rarepair request 🤔 How unusual!

(The best part of writing any romantic Rook piece is that I can literally just write him as normal and it can easily be interpreted as romantic by default just because of how he acts. Oh, Rook... Never change 😂)

Order Up!

When Deuce sprinted, he became one with the wind.

It was not unlike the sensation of riding on a Magical Wheel—ripping through the world at a breakneck pace. So fast and so furious that the sun and grass and sky became one. Hair flying in his face, wind crackling and roaring in his ears, blood singing, his feet losing all feeling.

He was floating, he was flying, he was free.

“TIME!!” Vargas called—and Deuce gradually slowed to a halt, his inner tailwind dying down. “Good time, boys! Take a break and grab some water before our next set!”

“Yes, Coach!!”

Deuce doubled over, resting his hands on his kneecaps as he caught his breath. Some of his bangs stuck to his forehead in sweaty clumps—he wondered if his eye makeup was still in place, or smudged. (If it was the latter, Riddle would not be pleased with him.)

A sudden chilling sensation at the nape of Deuce’s neck disrupted his thoughts. Cold, frigid—like a block of ice against his flushed skin. A feathery voice caressed the shell of his right ear.

“Bon travail, Monsieur Spade.”

“GAHHH!!” Deuce screamed like a maniac and bolted upright, arms flailing.

He knocked the bottle offered to him out of the hand of his assailant, and into the air. Up, up, up it went, momentarily catching the light of the sun before falling down.

Deuce, too, fell back—having lost his footing during his panic. The wind returned, roaring loudly in every pore of his body.

The bottle, and Deuce, racing to the earth.

And then came the firm support on the small of his back, the hand that expertly plucked the bottle from the sky.

Deuce stared at the world turned on its head, help up by a dangerously deep dip. A rich, velvet-lined laugh drifted to his ears as he was slowly eased onto his feet.

“I hope you’re unhurt!” Rook trilled with the tip of his cap. “Mes excuses—it was not my intention to startle you!”

“Oh, it was just you, Hunt-senpai... No problem, I just, uh... wasn’t expecting you to come talk to me. Did you need something?”

“On the contrary, Deuce-kun! I simply wished to commend you for your athleticism!”

“You... what?”

“I was so enthralled observing you make your rounds on the track field. Why, it was as though I was watching an angel take flight to the heavens themselves!!”

Rook sighed longing, throwing his arms out. “Alas!! Even you were not immune to the hubris that felled Icarus... For the closer you drew to the sun, so, too, did you draw closer to meeting your untimely demise...!! But nary did you plunge into the waiting ocean or the earth below, but into my arms!!”

“... I understood none of that.”

Rook beamed in spite of the confused response.

“Suffice to say, I was touched by your marvelous performance! You must be sure to replenish your energy after such intense exercise!” Again, he offered his bottle. “For you, Monsieur Spade! Drink up!”

“Oh, thanks!” Deuce accepted it with a tired smile.

It didn’t occur to him to ask what exactly he was putting into his mouth until he had already taken a large swig from the bottle. Water, perhaps—extremely chilled, to the point where it made his teeth chatter. At the same time, the drink boasted a tangy, sour zing, perfumed with the faint aroma of citrus.

As if reading his mind, Rook chirped, “It is water infused with the essence of lemon, refreshing and rich in electrolytes. Mon roi favors it as a pick-me-up!”

“So that’s what it is. I’m not used to this, but...” Deuce wiped away at a bit of it that had dribbled down his chin. He smacked his lips together, spreading the tartness across his tongue. “It kind of does feel invigorating.”

“Fufu. I’m glad to hear it.”

TWEEEEET!!

Vargas’s shrill whistle cut through the field.

“One more minute!!” their coach bellowed. “Then I’m expecting to see you boys hitting the track again!!”

“That’s my cue.” Deuce took another sip before handing back the bottle. “Thanks again for the water, Hunt-senpai!”

“De rein. I’m happy to be of service!” Rook thrusted a hand into the air, laying the other over his heart. “Monsieur Spade... Deuce-kun!! I implore you, spread your wings once more and show me the true breadth of your beauty!!”

“You got it! I’ll do my best, so please watch over me!”

The huntsman’s eyes creased. He said something, but Deuce couldn’t make it out over the second blow of Vargas’s whistle. (Surely it was Rook wishing him luck?)

“Fufu. You would ask me to watch over an angel? What I would give to have you watch over me in return.”

The first year jogged toward the starting line, the taste of lemon lingering on his lips. So sharp, so acidic—it was difficult to believe that someone as sweet as Rook had produced it.

But when life gives you lemons, he supposed that Rook turned them into lemonade.

[brandyllyn]

Harder to Hold (10)

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x f!Reader [no use of y/n]

Summary: On the Statesman plane, en route to Kentucky. Words: 2.1k

Other Chapters My Masterlist

Rated: Explicit. Warnings: language. PiV.

You said you were going to take a shower and Jack wrapped up his call with Ginger. There was recon to be done and she’d get back to him with whatever the next steps were for them. The flight to Kentucky was at least another four hours, even with a bit of a tailwind.

He heard the shower stop and called out. "Lower left, under the bench, should be stuff that’ll fit you if you want clean clothes."

You called back an unintelligible response and he listened for a moment, then heard the sound of a drawer opening and closing. Cursing softly, he ducked behind the bar, pouring himself a stiff drink and downing it in one gulp. It was a crime to do it to that particular vintage but he was feeling in a felonious mood. He poured himself another and went to put the screen back up.

"Jack can you help me with this?" He turned immediately, ready to do anything you asked, but suddenly his mouth was too dry to speak.

You were wearing a pair of blue sweatpants and a white tank. One strap was tucked under your arm and it was painfully obvious you weren’t wearing anything under it. The soft swells of your breasts shifted gently as you crossed the room. You turned and he cursed.

"When did you get shot?"

You glanced back over your shoulder and rolled your eyes. "I’m not shot. I’m grazed."

He glared at your shoulder and sat you down in one of the chairs, setting his drink down and then pushing the bar’s front panel aside to find the medkit. The entire plane could be converted into an infirmary if the occasion called for it - and he was only half convinced it didn’t.

"Fine. When did you get grazed?"

"Back at the compound, right before we went above ground I think. It stung, thought it was just plaster or stone fragments."

Jack pulled on a plastic glove, then hissed as he probed at the wound. "It’s not too deep, you’re not going to need stitches."

"Didn’t think so."

He spread the antiseptic over the area carefully. Watching your face to be sure that he wasn’t hurting you. He could tell your jaw was clenched but you otherwise seemed fine. He pulled a large bandage out, gingerly pressing it to your skin and letting it rest while he found the tape. He waited until it was secure before asking, "Think it’s time we talked about a few things?"

"Like what?"

"Like-?" He spluttered for a moment then saw the small quirk of your lips. "You teasing me sug- darling?"

"Maybe," you shrugged, "a little."

He didn’t move from where he stood behind you, gently soothing his fingers over the skin of your shoulder. "Feels like I owe you an apology. Maybe a bushel full."

Your hand covered his, stilling his movement, and you turned to look up at him. "There’s no need. I mean… given everything we now know…" You wouldn’t meet his eyes and he bit back his own words while he waited for you to find your way. "I can’t say I like your methods but I get it."

You released him and he absently pressed on your bandage to be sure it was secure. "So… we’re alright then?"

You nodded, turning away. His thumb caressed your neck for a moment and he didn’t imagine how you arched slightly, offering more of your skin to him. Jack had always been the kind of man to take risks, to look only well after he made the leap. He drew the back of his hand up the side of your neck before pressing gently behind your ear.

"Your heartbeat’s fast," he commented. "Are you in pain?"

"No." Your reply was breathy.

"Anxious?"

"No."

"Stress-"

"Jack." You stood, turning and grabbing him by the shirtfront, pulling his mouth to yours. He went willingly, carefully wrapping his arms around you and letting you push him backwards towards the bedroom. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want this, want your hands and your lips and your body… but he couldn’t help a twinge of hesitancy.

"Darling are you sure-?"

"I want to fuck you Jack." Your words went straight to his cock. "Can I do that? Will you let me fuck you?"

He groaned and pulled you closer, yanking your tank down until your breasts fell into his palms. The backs of his thighs hit the bed and he tumbled backwards, letting you go as he put a hand out to steady himself.

You winced when you pulled your shirt off and he lunged forward, trying to help and running his palms up your back. His lips grazed your breast and he turned his head to pull your nipple into his mouth. The soft mewl you made made his blood pound faster.

Fuck he loved how sensitive you were.

Your fingers clenched into his shirt and the sound of ripping fabric filled his ears. Then you pushed him backwards and were crawling over him, straddling his waist and when had you taken your pants off? It didn’t matter because those clever fingers of yours were on his belt and then inside his jeans and Jesus wept he barely had time to realize what was happening before you were sinking down onto him.

There was no time to take you in, no time to enjoy the feeling of you wrapped around him. You began to ride him immediately, arching your hips back and forth and rocking him inside you. Bracing your hands on his shoulders with your eyes screwed shut. Your breasts hung between the two of you, almost hypnotizing him as they jolted with the movements of your body.

"Slow it down a tic." He reached a hand up and cupped your chin, tilting your face down to look at him when your eyes fluttered open. "We ain’t got nowhere to be."

With his hand he tugged one of yours down his chest, placing your palm just left of center and then holding it there. He wanted you to feel him, feel his heart beating, know that it was beating only for you. For just a moment he saw a pained expression cross your face, then you shut your eyes and dug your fingers into him, nails biting into his skin so hard he flinched.

But you didn’t stop, didn’t slow down, just rode him and gouged little slivers of his flesh out. The pain and pleasure mixed in his blood until he couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. He gripped your wrist tighter, holding you to him, not letting you sheath your claws. But with the other he reached down, slid his fingers between your bodies and touched you exactly how he knew you needed.

He watched you come. Watched your body tense and arch and sway over him. Heard your breath catch in your throat.

Fuck you were beautiful.

Your breathing was still rapid when you opened your eyes, looking down at him through long eyelashes and a small smile crawled over your face. He knew he must look a mess, hair plastered to his forehead, shirt ripped open to show his own heaving chest. He was trying to be still, trying to let you have your moment, but he couldn’t help the twitch of his cock or the way his lips parted as he watched you.

"What do you need Jack? Do you need to come?"  Your fingers dug deeper into him and his lip curled. Thin lines of blood were seeping from under your nails.

"Look at you Jack," you cooed, "you’re practically gagging for it."

The words sounded odd coming from you and he hesitated, watching your face. But your muscles clenched down on his cock and he couldn’t think anymore. Just feel your body slowly rocking against his.

You leaned down, hot breath caressing his ear, slowly taking him inside your body in measured rolls of your hips. "Do it then, cowboy. This is your chance."

He barely heard you, his back arching, pleasure tingling down his spine as his balls drew up and he shouted. He reached for you, reached to pull you down into his embrace, but you were gone. Crouching next to the bed and picking up your clothes while he grasped at empty air. His cock bobbing obscenely from where you had pushed his jeans down.

"What the-"

"I need another shower." You didn’t look at him as you crossed to the bathroom and Jack sat up, resting his arms over his knees, giving the door a bewildered look when it closed. He cock was still hard, leaking against his stomach as he slowly shivered through the after effects of his own orgasm.

"Mind telling me what that was all about?"

You were fresh from the showers, body still wet, clothes sticking to you in interesting ways, one hand fiddling with the bandage. "You’ve got a call."

"What?"

You pointed over his shoulder to where a red light was blinking steadily. "You’ve got a call. You should probably get that."

Jack growled as he hit the button, Ginger and Champ coming up in split screen.

"So you’re the little filly that’s got my best agent tied up in knots," Champ said without preamble.

You darted a glance at Jack and then shrugged. "If you say so."

Champ grunted, chewing on the end of a cigar. "I do say so. And I’m madder than a wet hen about it.  I have half a mind to lock you up for-"

"Now hold your horses there, Champ," Jack butted in. "She’s been a lot of help to us in stopping this plot. I’m sure Ginger filled you in?"

Ginger nodded and Champ snorted. "She did. Russian terrorists, biological agents, plot on Air Force One - you’ve been busier than a one legged man at an ass-kicking contest haven’t you little missy."

"It’s Doctor missy." You said it with a straight face and Jack choked on air. He turned, hiding his smile from Champ as you went on. "And trust me you can’t be madder at me then I am at myself."

Champ raised an eyebrow and Jack saw a begrudging bit of respect enter the older man’s eyes. "Well that’s good to hear. Ginger?"

"The next non maintenance flight for Air Force One is tomorrow morning. Trans-Atlantic. They’re going to a summit in Kiev on global currency regulation." Ginger’s half of the screen was taken over by a schematic and a list of names. "As part of a show of good faith, the heads of most of the major U.S. banks as well as the Chair of the Federal Reserve are flying out onboard."

"Cutting the head off the capitalist snake," you murmured and Jack elbowed you. You spoke up, shooting him a glare. He was getting used to those. "When Michael was telling me about everything he mentioned they were going to cut the head off the snake. The President, the heads of the banks, the Reserve Chair - that would do it."

"You said tomorrow morning, how many hours from now?"

"Scheduled departure time is 06.30 local."

"I’ll reroute," Jack nodded, "we should make it just in time. Get us clearances and landing permissions at Andrews would ya, Ginger?"

Champ sat forward, gesturing broadly. "I’m sending Tequila out to give you a hand."

"Tequila?" Jack frowned. "That boy is about as sharp as a sack of wet leather." He glanced at you and then risked saying, "I don’t need him and he’d only slow us down, Doc and I have it covered."

"Oh you do, do you? And just when did Doc get cleared for missions exactly?"

"When she got me out of a heap of trouble in a Russian biolab."

Champ stared at him. Jack stared back. Champ sighed. "If you think that dog’ll hunt…"

"Champ," Ginger spoke up, the screen going to her picture again. "She’s the only person we know of who had any real idea what they’re planning. It would take weeks or longer to get someone else up to speed. If Jack can’t stop the aerosol before it’s released…"

"I’ll need access to my home files, I can get you the encryptions for those if someone can go there and get my flash drive," you butted in.

"We can do that, where is it?"

"In my office, inside a copy of Pride and Prejudice."

Jack grunted. He hadn’t gotten around to checking individual books when he was there. "So that’s settled. Doc and I will head to Maryland, see if we can stop this before it happens - or smooth it out if it does."

"I don’t like it," Champ growled.

"You don’t like anything," Jack pointed out.

"I like whiskey," Champ grumbled. "And fine looking women."

Jack’s lips twitched. "Well you’re in luck because we got both right here."

.

Chpt 11

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