#and the first guy having to stop that because it's unauthorized by the school and he doesn't know the second is behind it

[casiavium]

The movie I'm watching right now queer baited me harder than supernatural 😭

[retrievablememories]

cherry bomb | jungkook (m)

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

summary: “get fucked or die” becomes the motto to live by when a serial killer begins targeting virgins on your campus.

genre: smut, horror/slasher, college!au

word count: 7.1k

warnings: multiple minor character deaths, blood, gore, violence (including gun and knife use), mentions of alcohol consumption. virgin-shaming and slut-shaming, oral (fem receiving), riding, virgin!reader, first-time sex, protected sex, hair-pulling, biting, fingering, dirty talk, virgin kink/corruption kink, fuckboy JK. is JK a sub or a masochist here? answer: i don’t fucking know!

a/n: inspired by the movie cherry falls (2000). heed the warnings. remember that this is fiction, not meant to be entirely realistic, and characters' views/actions don't represent my own. if this kind of content is not up your alley just block me or make use of the wonderful filtering option in your account settings

sources for the fic dividers: one | two

link to part 2

CHERRY BOMB

don't wanna die? come out and hook up with a sexy girl or guy.

virgins get in free!

THIS FRIDAY

NOV 3, 20XX

[address here]

"very corny." you shake your head, looking at the party flyer in your hands. you'd just torn it down from the bulletin board in your dorm lobby; unauthorized advertisements aren’t allowed, and your job as RA involves these menial-ass tasks. "this is literally life or death...why are they turning it into a joke?"

"it is a joke," your friend camille says, snatching the flyer out of your hands to look it over. "think about it. 10 students get killed since we came back in august, and the semester isn't even over yet. the school administration and local police haven't done nearly enough to address it or stop any more deaths. and the common denominator is that all these people were suspected or confirmed virgins?” you haven’t seen the evidence yourself, but the daughter of one of the local policemen claimed every victim also had virgin carved into some part of their dead body. “yeah, i'd say it's a joke to pretty much everyone at this point. this is what happens when you let the students come up with a solution."

camille hands the flyer back to you, and you hold it limply. "but...it's not like you can look at someone and tell if they're a virgin. the killer must've known them all personally. it just doesn't make sense."

"some of those people had no mutual friends. nothing connecting them whatsoever. not even shared extracurriculars. it's gotta be a perverted stalker with a fetish, maybe. a scorned hacker who somehow got into their private conversations 'n' shit? or maybe he consulted the cards to know who’d fucked before and who hadn’t.”

“oh please.” you scoff. “now you’re being completely ridiculous. tarot cards aren’t gonna tell you if someone’s a virgin or not.”

“then you come up with a better explanation. either way, these folks—" camille points to the flyer "—aren't taking their chances."

"hm..." you keep staring at the flyer, looking at the shiny-red cherries, condoms, sex toys, and other sex-related objects decorating the paper. whoever designed this really wasn't playing.

"so, are you gonna go?" camille asks with a sidelong glance. "free admittance, after all."

your neck burns under the collar of your shirt. "are you?" neither of you have had sex yet, for differing reasons. camille's reason was almost complete indifference to the whole act.

she gives you a look that says i could give a shit. "...you know the answer to that one, dear. so you're not even thinking about it? as much as you have cried to me and lorelai about not being able to find a man you like enough to give it up for, our killer here probably already knows. you practically have a ‘come kill me’ bullseye on your back.”

"i don't know," you say, because you genuinely are thinking about it. “and stop trying to fucking scare me.” despite your logical brain trying to reason with you, you still feel a sense of underlying terror about being the next victim. "the virgin killer," as they'd nicknamed the freak, clearly prefers a specific type of victim, and all kills have been random and unpredictable other than that—and the fact that every victim attended your university. he also seems partial to using a knife on his victims, but even that isn’t guaranteed—3 of the 10 had been killed in ways other than stabbing. "i don’t know why you’re so nonchalant about this, though."

camille shrugs. "if he comes for me, i'll just spray him with my illegal mace and kick his nuts into his throat. then tie him up and wait for my dad to come blow his head off. there are some advantages to having a gun nut for a dad."

you chuckle at the absurdity of it. "you've got it all planned out, then."

--

FRIDAY, NOV 3

taking a rideshare to the party was a smart idea on lorelai's part, because the two little shots you took to pre-game already have you feeling woozy. or maybe it's just your nerves.

the cherry bomb is located at a mansion that isn’t really a mansion, but a large once-abandoned house one of the fraternities fixed up years ago for throwing off-campus parties.

the party is stacked wall to wall with people when you enter, though from what you can see, no one has actually started fucking yet—maybe they're saving that for the supposed orgy later in the night. you just hope you can get someone in one of the backrooms before that happens, because you're not really keen on having everyone in your class knowing what your tits look like.

you have one simple mission here tonight—lose your long-held virginity and get off the virgin killer's radar. once that's done, you'll make your exit.

"actually, i'm surprised anyone else showed up. other than you, who wants to willingly admit that they're still a virgin in college?" lorelai shudders. you roll your eyes and try not to feel offended, sucking your teeth.

"you were more than welcome to stay back at the dorm."

"no! i'm here for moral support, plus i don't want to be alone tonight. i don't care who this killer targets, it's getting too crazy out here to just be letting your guard down anymore."

well, you won't argue that.

you and lorelai dance to the song booming over the multiple speakers, scanning the room for potential hookups all the while. you become more alert when you recognize a familiar length of black hair coming through the front door, plus the tattoos and piercings to match.

you're not surprised jungkook came. he has his pick of untouched and easily corruptible virgins here, which has always been his thing; you've heard him brag about it to his seatmates more than once in your shared elective. not to mention the stories you've heard from the women who actually fucked him. as far as you could figure, it was the usual male ego posturing bullshit about being able to say he was someone’s first—and likely best. for that reason, alarm rises when he makes eye contact and starts making a beeline for where you and lorelai are.

"oh, here comes the campus bicycle," lorelai says, voice deadpan.

you continue watching him from the corner of your eye, trying to see if he's just approaching someone in your general vicinity, but no. once he shoves his way through the crowd of dancers, some unashamedly groping at his body as he does, he stops right in front of you two.

"so, are you here for the same reason i am?" he asks you, grinning like the devil himself. "or are you looking to get that sweet little cherry popped?"

the backs of your knees sweat. "um—latter, i guess." you hadn't meant to answer that honestly, but to say you are caught off-guard is understating it. you can count on one hand the number of times you and jungkook have talked to each other in class, and never about anything of this nature.

"you're not gonna ask me?" lorelai says.

jungkook gives a hearty laugh; you didn't think it was that funny. "everyone knows you're not a virgin, why waste my time?"

"wow, okay. fuck you. you're no saint yourself." she huffs.

"anyway…" jungkook returns his attention to you. "have you really never done anything before? not even sucked a dick? there's no way someone hasn't tried to hit that. not even some 'backdoor action only' like those weird religious girls?"

"is that any of your business? i didn't know we had to give a rundown of our lack of sexual experience before getting laid around here." you snap.

jungkook's eyelids lower a fraction. "i'm tryna decide how easy i should go on you, babe. i mean, if you wanna take this in one of the rooms. otherwise, i'll let someone else have a go if you're not interested."

unfortunately, you are interested, despite his overly blunt manner and objectifying language. even though you know you’ll just become another entry on his long list of flings—someone he’ll tell his boys about later—maybe the fear of death is making you impulsive.

but maybe his looks are playing a part in it, too.

he's imposing with his physique and his all-black attire, his shirt so tight that you can clearly see his pectoral muscles and his nipples, his unbuttoned leather jacket doing nothing to hide those details. you can easily imagine yourself running your hands across those pecs, squeezing them, rubbing your fingers against his nipples and making him moan underneath you, feeling and seeing his abs contract through this stupid-ass shirt that must've been painted on. this brief fantasy immediately dampens your panties.

"…i'm interested," you affirm, dragging your gaze back up to his eyes, and he smirks from knowing you were obviously checking him out.

knowing the direction this is going in, lorelai taps you on the back and whispers in your ear. “have fun but don’t do anything stupid, yeah? i’m not playing auntie to any offspring you and this dude pop out, sis. use protection.” then she makes her exit to go find herself a partner for the night.

“so, come on.” jungkook nods his head in the direction of the stairs, and you follow him through the crowd as he leads you up the winding staircase. you squeeze past two girls kissing on the staircase railing, their motions a bit unsure as if they’ve never done it before but clearly still enjoying themselves.

jungkook pushes a few doors in until he finds an empty room, and you try not to ogle at the random couples you see along the way. not even an hour in and the two shots must be wearing off, because your body is beginning to buzz with nervousness again.

jungkook closes the door behind him when you both step into the room, which is lit by one lamp on a nightstand and the open window beside the bed. he reaches for you, and you shiver when his hand grasps the side of your face, the other snaking around your waist.

“scared?” he asks, his voice low. you shake your head, and he grins. “relax.” he leans in as if to kiss you and you part your lips, but he doesn’t do that just yet. he traces your top lip and then your bottom lip with his tongue, dipping it into your mouth as he switches. the teasing nature of his actions makes your body heat up as you watch a string of saliva spread and then break between the both of you.

he presses back in for a real kiss this time, his nose bumping yours. despite all your fears about tonight, you’re able to unwind somewhat and just focus on the full sensory experience that is this kiss—the warmth of his hands and his mouth, the sappy sound your lips make when they separate and come back together, the scent of his cologne, the taste of his spearmint-flavored tongue.

you find yourselves inching toward the bed, him walking you backwards while keeping you steady. just as the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, there's the sound of a woman's bloodcurdling scream from behind you, and you nearly shove jungkook to the ground in your haste to run to the door. your fingers are scrabbling at the doorknob when you hear a burst of laughter. a guy you don't recognize crawls out from under the bed holding his phone up, displaying a youtube video of the shower scene in the movie psycho, which is where the noise is coming from.

"that was funny as fuck." the guy laughs obnoxiously loud, holding his stomach. “don’t get too carefree or you just might die, girlie.”

jungkook grabs the guy by his jacket collar like he's a kid and throws him out the door; the guy doesn't object because he knows this is preferable to getting his ass beaten by the bigger man. "fuck outta here, you jackass." jungkook snaps.

jungkook stomps over to the closet to yank it open. "any more idiots in here wanna show themselves?" he checks a couple more areas before deciding the room is clear and closing the door again, locking it for good measure.

“okay.” he sighs, stripping off his jacket and shoes. he takes your hand and pulls you toward him as he sits on the bed. “relax, baby. forget about that fucking clown. come ‘ere. why don’t you sit on my lap?”

with a heavy exhale, you try to steady your still-shaking hands as you shuck your boots off and pull your dress up slightly to comfortably sit in his lap, your legs loosely wrapped around his waist.

he squeezes your waist. “so, where were we? i don’t really remember…”

you huff out a half-amused laugh. “really? i’m pretty sure it was this…” you lean forward with your hands on his shoulders and press your lips back onto his. jungkook follows in kind, his hands running up from your thighs to your waist and back again. the rhythm of his hands is hypnotic, distracting you as you try to keep most of your focus on the kiss, and you fear you may be getting overstimulated before anything has truly began.

as you continue kissing, jungkook’s hands creep your dress further up your thighs until your panties are revealed. still feeling up your legs, his hands press further toward your inner thighs, and you gasp into the kiss when his thumb pushes against the seat of your underwear. they have been damp for a while now and you know he knows this, so you aren’t surprised when he breaks the kiss to smirk, though it makes you roll your eyes.

jungkook whispers against your lips, “let’s try something. will you sit on my face?” you stare at him without a word, not expecting this to be the first thing he proposes. at your response, or lack of, he adds, “i want to make you feel good. do you want me to taste you?” his voice is so soft, so unassuming and cloying, that it makes you feel like a lamb clutched gently in the mouth of a wolf.

your brain is already surrendering to it. “yes.”

you get another kiss and a smile. jungkook moves you out of his lap, shuffles further up the bed, and lies down so that he’s flat on his back, his head surrounded by the pillows. he gestures for you to follow.

taking your time, you slide your panties off and crawl up the bed until you’re near his face and he’s lying below you looking like he’s struck gold. he grabs your hips to bring you closer until you’re right over his mouth. you’re embarrassed to have someone looking at you from this angle for the first time, and you’re about to get too into your head about it when he french kisses your inner thigh, blanking out your mind.

the only thing you know from then on is that his mouth is burning hot. his tongue is everywhere. he licks at you delicately to test the waters, and then more firmly when your thighs tremble around his head, in an effort to elicit the same response.

the way he fits his mouth over your entire pussy and sucks it with just the right amount of pressure so that it won’t hurt makes you feel faint. the way he slides the flat of his tongue over your clit only to suck it gently at the end of the stroke makes you cry out louder than you intended. you’re glad he moved further up the bed for this, because you’re holding onto the headboard for dear life.

the only things you’re aware of are your own out-of-control moans and the wet sounds of jungkook’s mouth working you over. all of it has you so overwrought that you’re already reaching your peak, your grip on the headboard weakening.

jungkook seems to know this without you telling him anything. he pauses and looks up at you with a fucked-out smirk and a wet mouth. you don’t know whether to thank him or curse him for giving you a break. “before you come, fuck my face.”

“wh-what?”

“rub that wet fucking cunt on my face.” heat flares through your body at his frank words. “grab my hair and just ride my face.” he reaches up to take your hands off the headboard and places them in his hair. “you can do it, baby. fucking use me.”

it takes you a minute to get over the fresh wave of embarrassment and find a pace that works, because the connection between your brain and body feels like it’s frying and your coordination is off. jungkook helps guide your hips, especially with how you’re trembling from pleasure and close to falling apart. soon enough, you’re letting go of yourself and moving your hips enthusiastically, if a little clumsily, and chasing your climax. you savor the feel of your clit sliding across his wet tongue and his soft hair in between your fingers, and you push his head as close as it can get.

you come while screaming, dizzyingly immersed in the pleasure. you forget that you’re holding his hair as you yank roughly on it. the only thing that matters to you is that jungkook’s mouth is still sucking your clit through the best physical sensation you’ve ever experienced.

when he finally lets go and gives you reprieve, you collapse beside him on the pillows.

“i’m sorry,” you mumble, disoriented. “about your hair, i mean?”

jungkook laughs. it’s funny how shiny-wet his face is—and that you caused it, which is kind of hard to believe in the aftermath of it. “the pain is what gets my dick hard. don’t worry.”

you chuckle breathlessly at that, and for a few seconds you both have that funny little moment to yourselves in all the ridiculousness of the overarching situation.

then jungkook’s hand is reaching for you again. “i’m not done with that pussy yet, though.” he brushes a finger over your hole, and your body twitches from the sensitivity. he slides that finger through the wetness and then uses the lubrication to push only the tip of his finger in. he dips it in and out, teasing the nerves at your entrance, until you’re shifting your hips closer to him to implore him for more. he grants your request by sliding his finger all the way inside.

having a finger inside you feels okay at first, though not as good as his actions a few seconds ago. jungkook decides to amplify your pleasure by placing his lips on your neck, leaving gentle and wet kisses behind, and you become all too aware of the feeling of your hardened nipples against the material of your dress. the pleasure begins to heighten when his finger finds a place inside of you that makes you throb, your walls clenching around him.

“ah…” you gasp and shift eagerly against his body as he keeps stimulating that spot, not thrusting his finger into you but simply stroking it across that area in a come here motion.

jungkook pulls away from your neck to smile at his handiwork. “that’s better, right?” he whispers, watching your reactions. your lips form around the word yes, though it’s difficult to try to speak, and you worry how unsteady your voice might sound. he waits until you’re clutching at his arm, leaving red lines on his skin from your fingernails, to carefully push another finger in beside the first. you try to breathe evenly, though his refusal to let up on that spot has your lungs stuttering for air all over again. his nose nudges your ear as he leans even closer and whispers, “there are so many different spots to find, so many different ways to make you come; i wanna go looking for them all.”

jungkook angles his hand so that his palm is also stimulating your clit, his fingers thrusting slowly now. you turn your head away from him as your body becomes ablaze, unsure what to do with yourself as your climax nears quickly.

“would you let me do that? learn your body like no one else has done?” he kisses the shell of your ear, and even that small action is enough to tip you closer to the edge with how your body is already so fired up. “who else could make you feel as good?”

this orgasm makes your eyes fill with involuntary tears, and little clear droplets bleed down the sides of your face and towards your ears as your body convulses. jungkook kisses the wet trails they make on your face, still fingering you steadily and forcing another urgent cry out of you. you feel untethered from yourself, like you’re not in control of your reactions, and you don’t know whether to be afraid of that or not.

jungkook pulls his fingers out when you have mostly calmed down, watching strands of your wetness drip between them before sliding them into his mouth.

after you come the second time, you begin to tire. the deeds have been done, and if you want, you can confidently go back out to the party now and say you’re no longer a virgin; you’re off the unofficial kill list and can live the rest of your days without having to look over your shoulder with every breath.

…but jungkook is hard against your hip, and in all honesty, you don’t want to leave without knowing what his dick looks and feels like.

“you tired?” he asks, and the casual air of it makes your stomach flip, for some reason. he says it as if this is something you two do all the time and he’s used to asking you this after wearing you out during a good session.

but now’s not the time to get delusional.

“no. i want more.”

jungkook smiles broadly, teasing his lip ring with his teeth. he sits up to peel that skin-tight shirt off, and you don’t bother to stop yourself from staring at all that skin in front of you. your eyes drop further down when he removes his belt and undoes his jeans, pushing his pants and underwear down enough for you to see his v-line but not taking them off. is that an invitation for you to do it? "you hold the reins here," he says, lying back on the bed again. "do whatever you want to me."

“whatever i want?” you repeat, already sitting up. he nods, hands behind his head, and you take the initiative to straddle him again, knowing you’re getting his jeans wet.

you reach for his pecs first, just like you’d imagined downstairs. the firm muscle of them is mesmerizing; but when you slowly circle your thumb against his nipple and his eyes flutter, a small and breathy moan escaping his lips, you’re sure you enjoy this much more.

you play with his nipples and even work up the boldness to purse your lips around one, sucking it softly, and every noise that arises from him makes your clit tingle.

you eventually move your hands to his abs, enjoying how they flex at your touch. you didn't think his navel would be pierced, not hearing that detail in any of the sex tales you've eavesdropped on about jungkook, and you wonder what else you might find out about him tonight.

“you should do your nipples to match.” you suggest it without much thought as you’re teasing his navel piercing, though you don’t regret saying it.

“would you be into that?” jungkook sounds like he’s actually considering it, watching you from below his lashes.

you grin. you don’t know if you’ll actually end up having sex with him again to see them, but you answer, “i’d love it…it’d be sexy on you.”

sliding your hands further down still, you come to the waistband of his underwear, which is peeking over the top of his lowered jeans. for a second the nervousness returns; jungkook notices how your hands twitch with hesitation. “it’s fine, i’m not gonna bite you…unless you ask me to, though. here.”

he slips a hand into his underwear and grips his dick, though he doesn’t take it out right away; he strokes the shaft a few times, observing your reaction with expectant and hazy eyes. the scene before you makes your mouth dry. jungkook quickens his pace, twisting his hand at the tip and using his own precum as lube, until you are overcome with the desire to see it and you pull his underwear out of the way.

his cock is thick and flushed and glossy with precum. you don’t have much to compare it to, but it’s a good size, and all the previous women have said that he clearly knows what to do with it. he releases it and it slaps against his abs, leaving a streak of precum behind. when you look at him in anticipation of what he’ll do next, he grasps it again and starts stroking himself quickly, like he’s trying to get off. the wet slap of his motions and his quiet groans make your walls clench.

“i could keep fucking myself and you could watch, since you seem to prefer it…” he murmurs.

“no, i—let’s go all the way.”

jungkook smirks and answers your decision by pulling a condom out of his jean pocket. you watch as he unwraps it and slips it down his cock. though you’re already straddling him, he grasps your wrist and encourages you to draw nearer to him. “come here, pretty thing.”

when you’re hovering directly over him, jungkook grips the base and teases his tip against your entrance. “ready?” he asks.

“yeah,” you say breathlessly.

it’s a little slow-going, but you eventually end up with him seated inside you. it’s uncomfortable to be taking something bigger than a couple fingers, but it isn’t terribly painful.

“now, try moving your hips like this…” with his hands on your hips, jungkook helps you grind against him so that your clit slides across his pubic bone with every move. the discomfort begins to ebb out of your mind after a little while of doing this, and you laugh quietly.

“i thought…i thought this doesn’t feel good for men,” you sigh, your eyes closing from the bliss of his firm abdomen stimulating your clit. “this grinding thing, you know. or so a friend told me…”

jungkook laughs too, but he doesn’t confirm it like you expect him to. his only answer is, “a sexy woman on my dick will always feel good.”

he seems to be more about showing than telling, anyway. his hands reach for your breasts, groping them over the fabric of your dress before sliding underneath for better access. sporadic moans escape you as he plays with your nipples, making your clit throb harder and sending more warmth pooling in your abdomen.

your breath wheezes out of you when jungkook starts pushing up into you, his hands still squeezing your breasts. “you’re okay, baby…” he tries a few different angles until he pulls a visceral reaction out of you, your walls fluttering around him and your body shivering intensely. “mmm, there it is.”

your motions start tapering off as jungkook continues thrusting up against that same spot that had you in tears earlier. noticing this, he slips one hand back down to your hip and encourages you to maintain your pace, keeping your clit stimulated while meeting his thrusts. “you’re doing good…” he murmurs. “go ahead, keep fucking me just like that.”

you’re glad lorelai makes you go to the campus gym with her every week, because otherwise you’d be about to collapse riding him for this long. it takes more of your strength and stamina than you’d expected. no wonder jungkook stays in the gym.

“oh, fuck…” the way all his muscles flex as he repeatedly pushes up into you makes you wetter; you no longer have the wherewithal to be embarrassed about the gushy noises your pussy is creating. your whole world has whittled down to this one room, and all you can think about is your next orgasm.

“pull my hair again,” he requests, his eyes dark and lost in lust when he looks up at you.

"jungkook..." you grip his sweaty hair in your hand and pull it to bare his throat, and he gives a desperate moan, his member jerking inside you. you've never felt so in control of a situation before in your life. it gives you a straight adrenaline-slash-dopamine rush.

his neck is just there and exposed, flushed from exertion, and his physical responses make you feel so primal, like you could do absolutely anything to him right now and he’d enjoy it. because of this, you decide to bite his neck, if only to give your mouth something to do. his dick twitches again when you do, another pretty moan leaving his mouth.

his voice is strained when he says, “bite me harder.” when you let go, your mouth travels the expanse of his neck to leave marks in a few other places, digging in harder just as he asked of you.

“fuck, y/n—” the pain of your teeth is pushing him close to the edge too soon, so he slips his other hand out from under your dress and brings it lower to circle his fingers over your clit. jungkook adding his experienced fingers to his constant stimulation of your g-spot is enough to cause your release. your body slumps onto his as you squeeze around him, your head falling into the juncture of his neck and shoulder and your eyes shutting so tightly that you see wobbling shapes in the darkness.

jungkook gives you a few more thrusts rougher than the rest, causing you to cry out. your climax and the aftershocks have your mind so dizzy that you only just realize that he’s reaching his own peak, his muscles tensing and relaxing as he fills the condom with his cum. you hear him groan next to your ear, the sound of it filthy and uninhibited.

jungkook lifts your head from his shoulder, his thumbs on your cheeks, and his lips meet yours in a final slow kiss, his teeth leaving their mark on your bottom lip as a parting reminder.

you're still trying to get your bearings and slide him out of you when jungkook suddenly says, "what is that noise?"

"huh?" you remain immobile for a moment so you can listen more clearly, and you recognize the sounds of screaming and feet pounding on the floors in a bid to run away—both upstairs and downstairs. these don't sound like the same screams of pleasure from earlier. "what the hell?"

you and jungkook scramble to collect your clothes and get dressed, thankful that neither of you stripped down completely, and he throws the used condom into a random corner of the room. you're still making last minute adjustments when jungkook stands up and unlocks the door.

"the fuck is—?" his voice cuts off as if he can't finish his thought.

"what? what is it?" you stand up to get a better view around his body in the doorway, and you scream when you see a lone blonde girl lying a few feet away from the door, slumped against the opposite wall with a slashed throat. her pink party dress bleeds red, and her face that catches the illumination of the string lights glints with tear tracks. you look away from her unseeing eyes before you can cry out again.

jungkook seems confused, peering down the other end of the hallway like there'll be someone there to explain. "it...didn't work?" he asks to no one in particular, as you have no answer. you walk farther back into the room as if putting more distance between you and the body will provide some protection. bumping against the window sill, you turn around to look out the window and see several cars peeling out of the makeshift grass parking lot, nearly running over other people or hitting other cars on the way. you release a stifled scream from behind your hands when someone is too disoriented to get out of the way of the speeding cars and is sent flying through the air before landing painfully, their body now unmoving. the offending car never stops to check on them.

the screaming downstairs worsens, countless voices rising to a fever pitch of shouting and wailing, and you imagine this must be what the pits of hell sound like. jungkook whips around to look at you. “we gotta get the fuck out of here.”

you two inch out of the room with him in the lead, peering into jarred-open doorways to see if anybody could be waiting in the shadows. there are a couple of other bodies in two other rooms, and you wonder—even with the loud music constantly reverberating through the house, did you really not hear the struggles that led to these deaths in your throes of passion? the thought unnerves you. the idea that maybe you were only saved by jungkook deciding to lock the door…

the stair railing you’d walked by an hour ago is now broken in the middle, splinters of wood lying scattered on the stairs, along with more bodies lying on the steps just as haphazardly. the scene looks like the remnants of a stampede; you hope most of these people are just unconscious and not dead.

the dancefloor is a swarm of people in various states of undress pushing and pulling each other as they rush for the exit. there’s not as many people heading for the back door, everyone attempting to squeeze through the main entrance in their unthinking panic, so jungkook grabs your arm and the two of you pick your way through the bodies to get down the stairs as best you can. when you enter the mass of people, you’re exceptionally glad for his strength because it’s easier to get through the opposing crowd.

to reach the back door, you must first get through the kitchen. beside the kitchen entrance in a dark corner, you see someone doubled over and grasping the person in front of them for stability.

you realize belatedly that they have a knife in their stomach; the other person standing over them is the virgin killer himself, calmly watching them suffer.

the killer’s face is hidden by the mask he always wears, which you are seeing for the first time now, up-close—a hairy werewolf head with lemon-yellow eyes and a candy-red tongue. it’s so unexpected that you would’ve found it comedic if not for the context.

a guy in a blue sweater grasps the killer from behind in an attempted surprise attack, causing him to jerk the knife out of the other person’s stomach. the sudden movement causes a spray of blood to come flying off the knife, and you have to hold back vomit when drops of the warm, stinking crimson hit your face. though it feels like time has slowed to a mere creep, all of this happens within seconds.

you don’t see much more before jungkook is forcing you to move again.

you, jungkook, and multiple others barrel out of the back patio door, nearly ripping the flimsy screen door off its hinges in your haste, while the classmate in the blue sweater fruitlessly struggles with the killer in the kitchen. your leg muscles flex harder when you hear the person's agonized shout and the mushy rip of flesh being torn seconds later. almost everyone else has taken the same idea to run for their lives rather than stay and try to fight or disarm the killer; the streets are dotted in every direction with students running for any possible safety, many not having arrived to the party in cars to escape in.

thankfully, jungkook is not one of them.

he grasps your wrist painfully hard in his panic and yanks you in the direction of his car, which is so pitch black that you almost didn't see it sitting in the shadows.

when you get inside, you've never been so grateful to be within the safe metal enclosure of a car in your whole life. hands shaking, jungkook jams the key into the ignition and presses the gas pedal so hard your head jerks against the headrest. however, in your temporary relief, you think of lorelai. your vision doubles as you scramble to open your phone and call her, your head spinning with a new spike of fear. it rings for a while with no answer, and you try two more times only to get the same result.

"maybe she got to safety somewhere else?” jungkook tries to reason with you, his eyes bouncing between your face and the road ahead so he doesn't hit any other cars or any random students still running across the streets. "i didn't see her anywhere in the house before we ran out."

"that just means she could be hiding somewhere in there!" you shriek, unable to control your terror at your friend possibly being trapped in the house with the killer.

"well—maybe just let her stick it out, he won't find her if she just—"

"oh god, but i called her like three fucking times; what if he heard the phone ringing? i'm gonna kill myself."

“y/n, you’re overreacting like shit, there’s no way he’d hear a phone ringing in all that noise—"

unlistening, you drop your phone and bang your fists on your head in frustration and anguish.

sighing deeply, jungkook forgoes any attempt to do a 3-point turn, which requires more coordination than he has at the moment, and drives straight up into someone's yard to make a U-turn back toward the house.

you hadn’t gotten too far from the party house, so in another minute or two and with a couple messy turns that cause the wheels to ride up onto the curb, you’re back on the street leading up to the house. before you can reach it, though, jungkook slams on the breaks, and you have to throw your hands out onto the dashboard to avoid flying into it due to not fastening your seatbelt. you’re not very successful; the move hurts your wrists, and you’re pretty sure some of your ribs just got bruised anyway.

“what the fuck?” jungkook shouts.

the virgin killer with his lycanthrope mask is standing in the middle of the street; he turns to face the car. he has a chokehold grip on a guy you recognize as a popular frat member, who is almost bare except for his blue-plaid boxers. you remember seeing the frat guy dancing with his girlfriend when you and lorelai initially entered the party; he was in the group of guys who put this whole party together as a way to “save” the campus’s virgins.

the virgin killer is holding a gun to the guy’s head, and you have no clue where he might’ve gotten it from. the guy’s demeanor is weak, and he’s barely able to stand, which is obviously from the profuse blood loss he’s suffering; the killer has carved sharp letters into his stomach to form two words—“FAIR GAME.”

“fair game?” you mumble, a sickly realization forming in your mind.

“fuck no—" jungkook is already throwing the car into reverse when you hear and see the first bullet go off, exploding the frat member’s head into an unrecognizable mess and making you scream at the top of your lungs. you hear more shots after you close your eyes and tuck your body down, along with the sounds of bullets splitting metal and hitting glass, and you think you might be actively dying—or maybe you’re already dead. even that would be preferable to experiencing this nightmare.

you can’t think as you feel the whole world spinning, your body tossed violently around. in reality, the only thing moving is jungkook’s car as he whips the vehicle around and speeds down the same street you just traveled up.

for a few long minutes, you only hear your own heartbeat, his murmured and frantic curses, and the strained breaths coming from both of you. you keep your body curled up with your knees tucked to your chest and arms over your face. the car’s engine roars as it races down the highway.

you’re afraid to open your eyes and find out, but you have to at some point. plus, the uncomfortable position is making your body hurt. carefully, you unfurl yourself and turn to look at him. “did you get hurt?”

“uhh—no? i don’t think…?” he takes one hand off the wheel to feel up his body as if he’s just realizing that might be a possibility. “but i’m wired off pure adrenaline right now, so give me a few more minutes to be sure…” he looks to you. “are you?”

“no.” your blood still runs cold at the thought of lorelai being stuck in the house or navigating the dark neighborhood streets at this time of night. maybe she doesn’t even have her phone; maybe it was lost in the commotion. the number of possible scenarios makes you ill.

there’s silence for a while; you assume he must not be hurt after all. you start seeing familiar roads that lead back to the campus, and the gears in your mind begin turning, powered by fear.

“do you think it’s safe to go back to the college?” you ask, your voice small.

after a pause jungkook asks, “why not?” though his face begins to look like he’s second-guessing things.

“the killer could go back to the campus…i don’t know. there was so much violence tonight. it’s like he really has a grudge against the students from our school or something. what if he wants more victims? the campus police are already incompetent, but with most of them off the grounds and on their way to the party house…” you don’t finish your thought. you’ll need to warn camille of the potential danger.

“right, yeah…” jungkook’s hands flex around the steering wheel a few times. “we should…probably go somewhere else, then.”

nowhere feels safe. still, you ask, “where?”

changing his route, jungkook glances over at you. “to a friend’s house.”

[thestalkerbunny]

So like.

Staff day went okay.

Lemme outline some hot points. Lemme just SHARE my Day with you guys.

(content warning for mentions about shootings cause that I was literally 4 hours of my day having to listen to that, but it was mostly 'what to do in a scary situation' advice. Nothing in depth, just general stuff)

-Had breakfast there. I got a tangerine and some baby muffins. It was rather nice.

-Learned from my coworkers who were also there cause it was ALL the workers from every branch-that in the 3 days I had off, the guy who keeps SMOKING in the bathrooms is back, is now VAPING, blew a vape cloud in a child's face and then followed a female patron out of the building to make a sexual comment on her FEET. This is apparently not his first FOOT BASED OFFENSE HERE and makes me glad I wear closed toe shoes at all times when I'm out and about.

-Opening words/statements/awards for the librarians who have been on the job for nearly 20 plus years. This is blazed through in less than 10 minutes.

-THEN WE GET TO WHAT WE'RE ALL THERE FOR. The 'What to do during an active shooting' seminar with some kind of group that specializes in showing people what to do in said crisis as well as evaluating public buildings to make sure they're secure in case of said crisis.

-A lot of statistics. Stressful statistics. Upsetting Statistics.

-Know your corners people; Corners save LIVES -Seminar Lady talking about how it's important to find secure corners where a gunman cannot do the weird angle around and fire at you. Those of us who went to public schools in the last past decade know what I'm talking about when I say the safe corners of the room

A morbid thought. But I will now take corners into valid consideration more often than I usually do.

-We also review some footage, mainly diagrams n stuff, etc etc. best advice given was 'don't fucking STOP RUNNING once you're out-fucking put some DISTANCE on you and that bitch-only YOU can tell if you feel safe.' and 'fucking car doors won't protect you-bullets go through that shit like paper, find CONCRETE, Brick WALL, Building Support beams.'

-After very upsetting statistics and advice on corners, locked doors, etc. etc. We break for catered lunch. It is burgers and weenies with banana pudding on the side. Weenies were great, the burger was kinda red in the middle and I didn't care too much for that. A lovely lunch in honest option.

-After Lunch. Hands on Demonstration.

-First we're instructed on how to disarm an armed individual with a gun, different methods for different guns, it is important to portray confidence and aggression in the situation because it's a you or them situation and you must come out on top. Lady said you have full authority in the situation to make sure that son of a bitch stays DOWN until more help arrives.

-It is then followed up with this short 5'5 lady showing us how to do the unauthorized choke hold and then she said 'OKAY. NOW YA'LL ARE GONNA DO IT ON EACH OTHER'

-Bestillmybeatingheat.jpg- -It's just like BIBLE CAMP ALL OVER AGAIN.-

-We have to take partners and in a supervised controlled situation with the trained demonstrators who know what to look for teach us how to choke a bitch out. My partner had arms the sizes of babies and I did forewarn him that the last person that did that to me did, recieved a bite out of my natural reaction. I did graze him a bit with my teeth-but other than that, he was fine. Weird sensation. Highly did not care for it.

-My turn to choke him out. Forgot that he-my constant coworker-is a man of many many weird body quirks and one of them is a sort of low LOW response to pain/pressure. He's just patting his legs and humming while I'm trying to choke him out. He's also like 6ft tall and I'm 5'5 so it's like a goblin yeeting itself up to choke an orc.

-We get to the next part which is how to apply a tourniquet. Which I will tell you, applying it to yourself, hurts like a fucking BITCH. Which it's supposed to I guess? Cause the point is to stop blood from escaping your meaty flesh prison. But I won't lie, I REALLY did not care for it considering how they had to go around and check and make sure everyone did it right and I'm standing here, my arm going numb and having to stand at the same time-not a fun combo.

-We follow that up with how to treat different kinds of wounds, emergency wound dressing, the need to make sure any hole put in the torso area is covered with a seal cause air is not the torso's friend when you have a hole in it. Honestly interesting stuff. I would do a more Indepth class if they had it. I feel like emergency first aid should be taught in general schools as a sort of part of home ec. Cooking, Money Management, Medical First Aid. Just as a valuable general life skill.

-Closing words, a drawing for gift cards that I didn't enter cause they all seemed kinda crummy gift cards. I leave. I go home. I pass out in my bed for nearly 5 solid hours because I'm so exhausted.

Tl;dr: Know your corners, air is not the torso wound's friend-learn to choke a bitch.

This all also made me want to fucking take up judo? Or one of those sports where you learn to flip someone regardless of size based on leverage and center of gravity.

[daitsuu]

Nijimura Audio Drama Translation

Nijimura: Oi! If you have nothing to do, then go make rounds outside!

Members: Understood!

Akashi: Nijimura-san, about the groupings of the next game–

Nijimura: Oi Akashi.

Akashi: Yes?

Nijimura: What’s up with Haizaki?

Akashi: Oh, I didn’t see him since the morning today.

Nijimura: Oh yeah? I haven’t seen him since yesterday.

Akashi: Oh.

Nijimura: That’s weird. I didn’t see him the day before yesterday either. Can you please remind me what club he was a member of?

…..THAT BASTARD!! WHAT DOES HE THINKS HE’S DOING NOT SHOWING FOR CLUB ACTIVITIES FOR THREE DAYS!? HUUHH???

Hey! Has anyone seen Haizaki in school grounds today?

Kuroko: Um, we’ve passed each other in the corridors during lunch break.

Nijimura: I see, so he came to school huh? But he’s just slacking off of club activities. Haizaki….. Today, I’m definitely NOT going to show you mercy!

Kuroko: Haizaki kun. I wonder why he won’t come to club activities.

Akashi: Who knows. But even still, he’s a member of the first string. If his unauthorized absence continues, it’s going to leave an effect on the whole team’s morale. I think it’s about time for me to warn him directly about this.

Nijimura: Oi Akashi! Kuroko! Do you guys have any idea about places Haizaki is likely to go to?

Akashi: Kuroko, can you think of something?

Kuroko: Oh yeah, I think I’ve seen him one time at a game center after practice before. I don’t know if he’s there today too though.

Nijimura: Ho, a game center huh.

[At the Game Center]

Haizaki: Right… Right… Right… Yes!!  And just a little bit farther… Oh, it’s looking good! OH YES I CAUGHT IT!! COME TO ME, COME TO ME!

…Huh? Why the hell did you fall off at that place, I had you grabbed so good! What the fuck! They’re definitely making it loose on purpose!!

*starts to kick the crane machine*

Nijimura: Oi, oi. Don’t put the blame on the machine just because you suck, shithead.

Haizaki: Ha? Don’t you talk down on me. Come here and say that to my face!!

Nijimura: “Come here?” Since I’m in this place because I have some business with you, it’s actually a perfect opportunity.

Haizaki: !!!!! ….Nijimura….san

Nijimura: It’s good to know you haven’t forgotten my face and my name. So is it alright to assume you already know what I came here to tell you?

Haizaki: W-who knows?

*starts walking away*

Nijimura: I took the trouble to come all the way here to see you and you’re already leaving? That makes me sad.

Haizaki: Ha? To see me?

Nijimura: Yeah! Even if I look like this, I’m the captain of the Teikou Basketball team after all.

Haizaki: Hah. Did you come here to sermon me or something. You guys can still do club activities without me there right? Just leave me alone.

Nijimura: Pfft… Hahaha! That line of yours is too transparent.

Haizaki: What?

Nijimura: You slack off non-stop from club activities to get attention to yourself right? Aw, it’s alright, I won’t leave you alone. You sure are a “kamatte-chan”.

Haizaki: Don’t fuck with me!!

*attempts to punch Nijimura*

Nijimura: Oh? That was a better punch than I expected.

…..However, that won’t work on me.

[Probably in the Lunch Hall]

Haizaki: Ugh.. Ouch…

Akashi: This seat.. Isn’t taken, correct?

Haizaki: Ha? ……Akashi. It IS taken.

Akashi: I see.

*sits down*

Haizaki: I said the seat is taken! ……Damn it

Akashi: What happened with those injuries on your face?

Haizaki: So noisy, it has got nothing to do with you.

Akashi: Were you at the game center yesterday?

Haizaki: Tsk.

Akashi: I see. Then this will make things faster. Club activities for today will involve a practice match of first years vs second years. Please make sure to attend.

Haizaki: Ha? Don’t order me around. Who the hell do you think you are?

Akashi: I am simply fulfilling my duties as the vice captain.

Haizaki: Aaaaahhhh yes sir, is that so Mr. Vice Captain sir, thank you very much for taking the trouble!

Akashi: …….. Haizaki. What is the reason behind you not attending practices?

Haizaki: Reason…? I don’t have one. I just felt like it.

Akashi: If you have no plans on even attending the club, then you could always just quit, couldn’t you? Your slacking off has come to a point that it leaves a bad influence on the team.

Haizaki: Stop putting the blame on me.

Akashi: I heard that you started a quarrel with people from a different school the other day as well when you were wandering about. Learn to be more prudent before the problem gets out of hand.

Haizaki: I SAID. STOP ORDERING ME AROUND!!

Akashi: Haizaki! What will you do about club today?

Haizaki: Heh. I was actually thinking about showing my face a little bit but I changed my mind. All thanks to you.

Akashi: …………..

[After club activities]

Nijimura: Hai…za…ki!

Akashi: The cleaning and locking of the gymnasium is finished.

Nijimura: Ou. Thanks for your hardwork.

Akashi: Nijimura san, if it’s paperwork, please let me do it.

Nijimura: Huh? Oh, okay. Then, I’ll leave the continuation to you.

Akashi: …..So in the end, he didn’t show up did he? Haizaki, I mean.

Nijimura: Breaking his promise with me, that bastard. I should’ve punched him two or three more times!!

*Akashi laughs*

Nijimura: Well, that only means we have to do something about him again but anyway, how was the first year vs. second year match today?

Akashi: Yes… For the team with only the firs years, I think that the balance of fighting power among the members is close to being at the tipping point/danger zone. Moreover, with Kuroko’s participation, we are now able to create a change in the flow of the game. However at this point in time, we are not able to take full advantage of this change.

Nijimura: Yeah, since there are no players with a style like Kuroko’s… So it means that the ones playing with him must develop a technique themselves to go along with it.

Akashi: While we’re at this point, Aomine on the other hand, is able to go all out with his own playing style thanks to Kuroko’s invisible passes. In today’s match, his speed greatly improved.

Nijimura: He always practiced with Kuroko even before he came to the first string right? Either they’re in tune with one another or he’s just excited. It’s just like the straightforward idiot he is, isn’t it?

Akashi: On the other hand, Murasakibara is harboring annoyance.

Nijimura: Huh?

Akashi: Endurance, experience… It seems he feels a lack in Kuroko who is yet to catch up with the first strings regarding those matters.

Nijimura: Hm.

Akashi: Because of this, the snacks are disappearing at a rate that is 1.5x faster than before.

Nijimura: Stress-eating!? Really… His body is so huge but he’s really just a brat. He should be a little bit more stoic like Midorima– well, that’s not gonna happen.

Akashi: Since Midorima and Murasakibara’s personalities are quite polar opposites aren’t they?

Nijimura: Well, Midorima being Midorima is too absorbed in his own thing that he lacks awareness of his surroundings too.

….and he seems to be always holding weird things???

Akashi: They’re Oha Asa lucky items.

Nijimura: *Sighs* Really…. you guys are all so troublesome.

[Kuroko texting]

Kuroko: Hmm I wonder if this is too long for a message… Alright, this is about it. Pressing send…

*phone rings*

Kuroko: This is a ringtone right? Hello?

[ Ogiwara: Kuroko! ]

Kuroko: Ogiwara kun! Hajimemashite!

[ Ogiwara: What??? ]

Kuroko: Ahh, sorry. I mean, in a talking-on-the-phone kind of way.

[ Ogiwara: Oh I see. If you say it that way, it gets kind of embarrassing. ]  

Kuroko: The call came all of a sudden so I kind of panicked.  ]

[ Ogiwara: Haha, sorry. It’s because just when I was trying to send an e-mail, your message to me arrived so… I got so happy I called you without thinking. ]  

Kuroko: Did you receive my message?

[ Ogiwara: Yup! I received it. ]

Kuroko: That’s great to hear. Since we used written letters until now, I’m still not used to this.

[ Ogiwara: I’ll be your practice buddy so keep on sending me messages and calls, alright? ]

Kuroko: Okay!

[ Ogiwara: So, how have you been recently? Since going up the Teikou’s first string! ]

Kuroko: I feel like I’ll vomit. Actually, I do vomit.

[ Ogiwara: EH!? ]

Kuroko: The practices are so many times harder than the third string’s and it takes all of my ability just to finish them. Just remembering makes me go…. ugh—

[ Ogiwara: Oi oi oi are you alright? ]

Kuroko: Yes

[ Ogiwara: You get a feeling like… “that’s Teikou Middle School for you” right? No wonder they’re so strong. ]

Kuroko: Everyone accomplishes those kinds of practices as if it’s just everyday routine and it’s really amazing.

[ Ogiwara: But Kuroko, even before you were still in the third string, you did your best more than anyone to the point of doing independent practices, right? So you’ll definitely catch up to them one day! ]

Kuroko: Aomine kun told me the same thing before. You two definitely are similar in some ways.

[ Ogiwara: Aomine? Oooohh that friend you told me about before who’s really awesome at basketball? ]

Kuroko: Yes! Even in among the first string, his abilities are far superior. But during times I’m feeling down, he’s someone who will casually just keep his pace to match mine.

[ Ogiwara: I see. It’s nice to hear you have a friend who you can count on. ]  

Kuroko: Oh yeah, he bought me ice cream on the way home from practice before.

[ Ogiwara: Ice cream???? Even though it’s this cold?? ]

Kuroko: That day, I was so exhausted and down because I really couldn’t keep up with the day’s practice so he went “well, just eat it out”

[ Ogiwara: Oh, I see! ]

Kuroko: I thought that it was to resupply sugar into my system and to cool me down…

[ Ogiwara: Hmmmmm, somehow, I feel like he didn’t really think about stuff like that? ]

Kuroko: When you put it that way… I really did start to think it may be the case.

[ Ogiwara: Hahaha! But he really is a good guy isn’t he, that Aomine. Well that means at least, that you are able to be a first string member without being brought down no matter how hard the practices are. ]

Kuroko: Yes! How is going on your end, Ogiwara kun?

[ Ogiwara: Oh! Well for me, even if it’s just little by little, they’re starting to include me in the starters. ]

Kuroko: Starters? That’s amazing!

[ Ogiwara: Even so, it’s because there are a lot of practice matches where the opponent also uses first years. ]  

Kuroko: Even still, I think it’s amazing that you’re selected among the many first year members.

[ Ogiwara: I’m happy just being able to go out and play in the match but when the cooperative moves we’ve experimented on during practices actually work in the match itself, it really is the best feeling. It’s as if you were able to prove the greatness of teamwork. ]

Kuroko: Teamwork…

[ Ogiwara: Hmm? Is there something wrong? ]

Kuroko: Actually, there’s someone in the first string who doesn’t really come to practice often. He’s also a first year, you see.

[ Ogiwara: Ahh, so there really are people who find the practices too hard and back out of frustration? ]

Kuroko: Oh no, actually he’s a player that’s good enough to be chosen as a regular. But then for some reason, he just keeps slacking off of club activities.

[ Ogiwara: What’s up with that? Did he have a fight with a teammate or something? Or like his parents got mad at him because his grades went down because of too much balling? Did you try to hear his reasoning? ]

Kuroko: Well, I’ve never asked him directly myself but it seems that all he does is play around after school when he slacks off of practice so I really don’t think that’s it.

[ Ogiwara: Then… It really is just purely slacking off? Hmmm… No matter how good he was that he was able to be a freshman first string member in Teikou, if he keeps slacking off, won’t he be left behind by others? Does it mean he doesn’t care about that? ]

Kuroko: I think it isn’t like that but…

[ Ogiwara: Hmm but even while slacking off, he doesn’t quit the club. So that doesn’t mean that he has come to hate basketball either, right? Hmmmm… I don’t really know but if he likes basketball, he’ll probably come back. ]

Kuroko: If he likes baskeball….. I guess you’re right.

[Haizaki in stealth mode after school]

Haizaki: *Sigh* it seems I was able to go undetected but if someone from the basketball club sees me, I’ll be 100% scolded. I’m having none of that today!

Voice: Heeeeh. Who’s going to scold you, you said?

Haizaki: That hot-headed captain.

Voice: What are you having none of, you said?

Haizaki: Getting beat up, of cours— ahhh!!

Nijimura: You never learn do you?

Haizaki: Ni, Niji—

Nijimura: Oh hey there, I’m Nijimura san, that hot-headed captain! I was contemplating on how you didn’t keep our promise yesterday so I went out of my way to wait for you right here! If I remember correctly, we were supposed to have already met at the gymnasium yesterday, right? HAIZAKI? *cracks knuckles*

Haizaki: You bastard…

Nijimura: Who did you call a bastard?

Haizaki: Eh!?

Nijimura: Thanks for making a fool out of me. Come to the practice this instant!

Haizaki: Shut up! Always picking on me like a target!! Let me say this to you today as well!!

Nijimura: Oh, do tell!!

Haizaki: THANK YOU FOR YOUR HARDWORK CAPTAIN NIJIMURA, PLEASE DO YOUR BEST ON THE PRACTICE OKAAAAYY!?!?!?!?!?!

*bolts*

Nijimura: You— don’t screw around with me!!!!!!!

*chases*

Nijimura: Don’t you run away from me Haizaki!!!!!

Haizaki: You’re so persistent!!! It’s because you keep chasing me!!!!!

Nijimura: Don’t try to reason out with me!!!!

Haizaki: UOOOHHHHHHHHH

*Haizaki trips and falls*

Nijimura: Haizaki!!! Oi, are you alright? You didn’t sprain your arm or your leg?

Haizaki: You… Just the day before yesterday you beat me up and now you say these things!?

Nijimura: Isn’t it obvious I didn’t go all out on you at that time? Don’t put it on the same thing as you just simply tripping and falling.

Haizaki: You held back on me?!

Nijimura: Oh? Those are nice eyes.

Haizaki: Just as you said, don’t make a fool out of people! I’m gonna beat you up!!

Nijimura: Well isn’t that perfect, come at me!!

*Haizaki and Nijimura go at each other and Haizaki is beat up*

Nijimura: Well, you fight good but you’re still a hundred years too early to be my serious opponent.

Haizaki: Damn it…

Nijimura: Haizaki, don’t run away anymore.

Haizaki: I’m not running from anything—

Nijimura: Not about fighting you idiot. Hey, Haizaki. Why don’t you try to face basketball honestly for once?

Haizaki:

Nijimura: ………….Ah? He passed out. *Sigh* so troublesome, geez!!

[Teikou gymnasium]

Nijimura: Ossu!!

Akashi: Nijimura san?

*Haizaki groaning in the background*

Akashi: ……? Nijimura san, could that be….

Nijimura: Yup! Hey, where are your greetings?

Haizaki: ‘Sup…..

Kuroko: (His face…. is nothing like how it originally looked like)

Nijimura: You know this guy gets really energetic and runs around all excited when he sees my face so I also did my best to bring him here!

Akashi: But….. In his state now….

Nijimura: Oh pish posh, right Haizaki? You’re super excited to be able to join practice after all this time right?

Haizaki: Yeeess……

Nijimura: Yup, that’s a nice response! Well anyway, why don’t you go join that mini game over there! Off you go!

Haizaki: OWW!!

Nijimura: Haizaki!! That was your return wasn’t it!

Haizaki: Ahh damn! Give it to me!!

*shoots ball*

Haizaki: Yeah that’s how it goes!

Nijimura: Don’t go putting on a smug face just because you made one shot! If you have time for that then get back as soon as you can!!

Haizaki: Yes, sir!!

Kuroko: Haizaki kun….. He really is good.

Akashi: That’s what you think?

Kuroko: Eh?

Akashi: He indeed has abilities that is superior than the norm, however, the ball is not going to him in a way it can be most put into effect. It’s undeniable that there’s a lack of cooperation.

Kuroko: That means that indeed, there’s a fundamental lack of practice, right? However rather than Haizaki kun, it looks like it’s the other players who are feeling uncertain about Haizaki kun’s play style.

Akashi: So you did see through it, Kuroko. It means that Haizaki slacking’s off has begun to show its effects.

Kuroko: So it’s good that the captain was able to drag him here even while he used excessive measures, isn’t it?

……Akashi kun?

Akashi: Don’t you think…. Nijimura san is a little too hung-up on Haizaki?

Kuroko: Hung-up?

Akashi: Nijimura san has an eye for people. He has from the beginning a rather correct evaluation about me, and he knew about how you worked harder than anyone else in secret. But… He’s different towards Haizaki. Even while knowing that there’s a high probability of him leaving negative effects on the team, he’s made it so that cutting him loose won’t be an option from the very beginning.

Is there any good in letting the Haizaki the way he is now, stay on the team even to the point of resorting to violence?

Kuroko: Akashi kun…

*Nijimura humming*

Akashi: I’ve locked the doors to the gymnasium. I’ve gone and returned the keys to the faculty room.

Nijimura: Oh! Thanks!

Akashi: Nijimura san…. I told you, I’ll do the paperworks.

Nijimura: Oh? Well, I’m feeling rather good today because we were able to practice with the complete set of first string members after a long time so…. since I’m almost done, you can go ahead of me if you want.

Akashi: ….

Nijimura: What’s wrong? You’re not going home?

Akashi: I have something I wanted to ask Nijimura san. Is it alright?

Nijimura: I don’t mind.

Akashi: It’s about Haizaki.

[ Ogiwara: Oh yeah, about that guy you said who always slacked off of practice… ]

Kuroko: You mean Haizaki kun?

[ Ogiwara: Did he come to club today? ]

Kuroko: Well, yes, in a way.

[ Ogiwara: “In a way”? What’s that supposed to mean. ]

Kuroko: Captain went and beat Haizaki kun up and dragged him back when he was about to go home and slack off again.

[ Ogiwara: “Beat up”!? You mean with fists? ]

Kuroko: His face looked so horrible. To think Nijimura san was that strong…

[Ogiwara: Nijimura? Eh, Nijimura…. You mean that blond haired Nijimura san? ]

Kuroko: Eh? Captain isn’t blond.

[ Ogiwara: Hmm could it be a different person? But then the last name “Nijimura” is rather rare… So that just means it just isn’t at the present? ]  

Kuroko: Ogiwara kun… You know our captain?

[ Ogiwara: Well, during elementary school, I actually watched a Teikou match once. When I did, there was this person who was a starter while being a freshman and he was so incredibly strong. That person was called “Nijimura”. ]  

Kuroko: He was blond that time?  

[ Ogiwara: Yeah yeah. Honestly though, his attitude during the matches weren’t really the best… Like he’s arrogant just because he’s good? He lashed out even when the people he’s talking to are his seniors…  ]

Kuroko: Nijimura san… Arrogant?

[ Ogiwara: So he’s the captain huh. It’s rather unexpected! ]  

Kuroko: Well for me though, the story you told me now is the one that’s unexpected.

[ Ogiwara: Really? ]

Kuroko: Yes. Nijimura san is someone who can boast great faith from the coach and he listens to our opinions even if we are his juniors. Even to Haizaki kun.. Well, the means are quite, you know… But he tries his best to bring him to practice… It’s a very different image than what Ogiwara kun knows. Besides, he has black hair now.

[ Ogiwara: Hooooh. Then maybe… Some things might have also happened with Nijimura san since that time. ]

Akashi: What did Nijimura san think about Haizaki in the practice today?

Nijimura: Well, for someone who doesn’t go to practice, his movements weren’t dull. He isn’t on Aomine’s level, but his instinct and skills to bring the ball to the goal without any qualms haven’t changed.

Akashi: Hm

Nijimura: But that’s in the end, his individual ability. He missed numerous easier and more ideal chances to get the ball into the goal. There’s also that angle where you know the others hesitated to pass the ball to Haizaki but that guy doesn’t look at his surroundings to begin with. I guess his egocentricity did him a little good here.

Akashi: So you did notice.

Nijimura: It seems you are wanting to say something. Tell me. You don’t have to hold back.

Akashi: Haizaki’s bad conduct, isn’t just his own personal problem– it is beginning to leave quite a tangible effect on the team as a whole. Even if you tell them not to mind, distrust is something that grows stronger. After all, isn’t Haizaki’s reason for slacking off in the end just pure laziness? If he doesn’t respond to repeated warnings, then I think that the effort Nijimura san goes out of his way to put on him is just a waste.

Nijimura: Heh, you didn’t really hold back at all.

Akashi: In my opinion, I think that the faster we cut Haizaki off, the better it will be for the team.

Nijimura: Well, for the team, that may be the correct decision. But hey, can you give it a little more time?

Akashi: ….

Nijimura: To you who is capable and is able to walk in a straight line in life, someone who is aimless and who always postpones the answers might just seem “lazy”. But for me, his slacking off seems like an escape.

Akashi: Escape?

Nijimura: To never be ordered around, he’s walking around living selfishly but he’s probably just frightened to be bound to one place.

Akashi: I somehow sense some first-hand experience/feeling into what you said.

Nijimura: Hahaha, seriously you’re too sharp! Well, you can say that when I was in first year, I was also a bit sharp around some edges. When I look at Haizaki roaming aimlessly, I kind of remember myself and get embarrassed.

Akashi: So in other words, Nijimura san is projecting himself onto Haizaki? Therefore you think he’s going to change like you one day?

Nijimura: You really say it so bluntly. Well yeah, that’s probably it. Haizaki’s reason for joining the basketball team could probably just be because he’s just better at it than others. But then, why do you think he doesn’t quit if he just keeps slacking off?

Akashi: ….

Nijimura: Well, let’s go home. But you know I’m kind of hungry so maybe I’ll buy some meat bun from the convenience store? Do you want to come along, Akashi?

Akashi: Isn’t it already time for dinner by the time we arrive home?

Nijimura: Oi oi Obocchan. Don’t tell me you’ve never just went out and bought food to eat? There is a different room for these foods in the stomach apart from the one for dinner! It’s delicious because you eat it while going home.

Alright! I’m going to initiate you into the art of buying these foods so let’s get going!

Akashi: Nijimura san! I’m not exactly hungry…

Nijimura: This is my treat, don’t be shy!

Nijimura: Kuroko! Your right leg wasn’t raised enough in your take-off!

Kuroko: I apologize!

Haizaki: Hey, lameass.

Kuroko: Haizaki ku–

Haizaki: Give it to me.

Akashi: !? Haizaki

Nijimura: You’re late, Haizaki! Hurry up and go get changed!

Haizaki: *Sigh*

Nijimura: Answer!

Haizaki: Yes sir!

Akashi: Did you do something, Nijimura san? To think Haizaki will come to practice on his own…

Nijimura: Who knows? Maybe he’s learned his lesson after being beaten up too many times?

Akashi: I don’t see the merit on both sides in using force on Haizaki to practice –

Nijimura: I will force him, Akashi. As long as he’s in the basketball club.

Akashi: ….Why?

Nijimura: Because… I’m the Captain of Teikou. However, it’s up to him from now on if he will change or not.

Akashi: Is that Nijimura san’s way…?

Nijimura: Yes it is. But don’t worry. I won’t tell you to do the same thing as me.

Akashi: ….

Nijimura: Well, I’m not gonna tell you to copy this *cracks fist*

Today, I’m gonna have you pay the debt for all the times you’ve slacked off until now!! Prepare yourself, Haizaki!!!!!

[bluepenguinstories]

Remoras Full Chapter XXXIV: Uprooted

I

As soon as they arrived, I knew something was up. I just didn’t know what. There was also the gut feeling that it had nothing to do with the ones I stayed with. Although that bit, I didn’t have an explanation for.

I went around back and took cover behind Juniper’s workshop. Once the opportunity presented itself and I knew the armed foes weren’t looking my way, I dove into the tall grass, using its thick growth as a cover. Soon, I drew close to the first one; he looked around, off to the side, and seeing it as the perfect opportunity, I leapt forward and flung myself at him. He took a step back, taken by surprise, and tried to fight back, but I tore off his helmet and plunged my knife into his forehead, then kicked myself off of him and landed back on the ground. He let out a scream, and I was sent into a panic as the others were alerted.

No, scratch that. I used the commotion to my advantage.

As they drew near, I grabbed the first fallen foe’s weapon and ducked down. Through the thickets, I caught a glimpse of one of them. I sniped at their leg, and another scream emitted. The other fired a barrage of shells, but I had already swerved around and used the back of the machine gun I held onto and rammed it in the back of the guy’s head. The one next to him was right beside me, alert and ready to shoot. That should have been the end of me.

Instead, I shot into the side of his stomach and knocked him down as well. Soon after, there was only one other to deal with: whoever happened to be in that armored van.

“Looks like you got her. Good job,” a voice over static emitted. Oh joy.

His mood soon changed to fright as I opened the passenger side door.

“I’ve got good news and bad news,” I delivered the message, then threw the helmet down on the floor of the vehicle. “Which would you rather hear first?” “Um, bad news?” He squeaked, then slithered against the door of the car. He was some scrawny looking man, dirty blonde, messy. Beat up T-shirt. Braces. Yes, braces. Despite that, he looked to be in his 30s or 40s.

“The bad news is that you didn’t ‘get her’,” I stated. “However, there’s plenty of good news: first off, I may have only killed one of them. The others are unconscious. Second, I may let you live if you work for me instead.”

“Excuse me?” He balked. “Do you know how much they’re –”

“I’ll pay you double,” I interrupted.

“Do you even have the money?!”

I shook my head.

“Not right now,” I looked outside, back toward the house. “Tell me, who was your target?”

Before he could answer, his phone rang. I gestured for him to hand it to me.

“Hey Weatherboy. Don’t mind me, I’m just checking in. You know, I hear the skies are going to clear up soon. I can’t wait to lay out on the beach with my tan and maybe a few crabs pinching me. But enough about me, how goes the hunt? Did you and the men I rented out to you kill Demetria?” He didn’t sound pleasant so much as he did snake-like. However, I was willing to be that his hiss was worse than any bite of his.

My name. So I was the target. But why? Not only that, how did they know my name?

“It’s done,” I replied in a low and monotone voice.

“Ooh? Is this who I think it is?” The delight in his voice grew. “You really are your money’s worth. Tell you what: how about you come to back to my headquarters and we can have a nice, friendly discussion?”

It could have been a trap. I didn’t care.

“See you there,” I replied, then hung up the phone and threw it back to ‘Weatherboy’ over there.

I glanced over to him. He didn’t seem at all threatening, but he could drive, so he could prove useful.

“How much is your boss paying you?” I asked.

“One-hundred thousand,” he answered.

I could use that money as well. Oh well, I wasn’t interested in money.

“Fine. I’ll make it two-hundred thousand.”

“How are you going to get that money?” He questioned. Doubtful as ever, I see.

“Simple: we’ll take it from your boss.”

“Simple?! We?!”

Once again, I looked over to the house. I never wanted any of what transpired to happen. There were many questions I would make sure were answered soon enough.

“Fine. But only because I need the money,” he changed his soon only a second later.

“Good. First, let’s get these bodies in the back of the van. I don’t want them littering my cousin’s home.”

We dragged them back. He complained, though, because of course he did.

“This was supposed to be one simple job,” he grumbled. “Just ‘one little girl’ they said.”

I ignored it. He was allowed to be in a sour mood. I couldn’t hold that against him.

As I dragged the last one back, Ves stormed out of the house, furious. What was said, I didn’t wish to recall. There were no words, and to see her in so much pain...it tore at me. But I didn’t dare show it. Seeing that only solidified my resolve.

Moving on, I sifted through Weatherboy’s glove compartment, pulled out a notepad as well as a fountain pen.

“Can your boss hear us?” I wrote down and showed him what I wrote. He raised an eyebrow, then looked at me.

“No, it’s not wired. If you thought it could have been, why would you even say all those things?”

Ugh. If there was one thing I hated, it was pointing out flaws in my thought process.

“Never mind that,” I dismissed him. “Tell me, Weatherboy, what’s your specialty?”

“Okay, first off, ‘Weatherboy’ is just a code name. If we’re going to work together, call me by my actual name, Wheaty. Second of all, I’m sort of a freelance hacker-slash-surveillance. I can control things remotely, tap into any computer. Not to toot my own horn.”

Wow. I hit the jackpot. OK. I can use this.

We soon rode off, into whatever hostile destination I would soon find myself in. I sat in the back, next to the bodies of the men who drove my cousin’s wife into such sorrow. None of them could wake up and grab me, as they had been heavily sedated.

Part of me was tempted to use the car ride as a means of falling asleep, as I sure knew I needed the rest. But I resisted, both because I needed to be alert so I could plan on my way there, and also because of the nightmares I’ve had recently. No, I didn’t want to get into what they were about. I was sick of flashbacks.

On the paper, I wrote down, then handed him the sheet of paper:

“What’s the layout of this place like?”

“You know, you don’t have to write everything down. I already told you my van’s not being tapped.”

Irritated, I wrote down:

“It’s easier this way.”

He sighed. Just as, if not more, annoyed than I was. Or maybe annoyed with the situation. It could have been both, and like I said, I couldn’t blame him for that.

“OK. So it’s solid white all around. Just a straight corridor. Two floors, one of them full of small rooms. I’m guessing the place used to be one of those private prisons until the boss bought it out and repurposed it. Those guys he sent? They were mere grunts. Who you’re going to meet inside will be much tougher. Can’t just be stabbed or beat over the side of the head. Next, there’s hidden turrets on the floor which will pop out when there’s an intruder. Boss might just want to lure you there, then spring the turrets out as some sort of example. Last, there’s walls which can shoot up from the floor as well. Those are there mainly to trap enemies in, or to protect themselves.”

Hostile architecture. What a load of junk. Figures. You get what you pay for.

“Next question,” I wrote down, “Why was I targeted and how did you find me?”

“Sorry, I don’t know the answer to the first one. I’m guessing these guys just get assignments and aren’t told the ‘why’, just the necessary details. As for how I found you, you were listed as ‘Demisexual’ but I was able to do a little digging. Found school records that matched your appearance. Then I tracked your phone and it brought me to that place. I thought you must have known you were targeted, so you retreated to some place remote.”

Wrong. If I had known, I never would have put Juniper and Ves in danger like that.

There were other thoughts, too, like if they know all this information about me, what’s to stop them from putting other members of my family in danger?

Such a thought was sickening, and I still didn’t know the details, but I cursed myself for being so careless.

I couldn’t dwell on such things. It wasn’t the time. What mattered more was making sure I was as prepared as I could be for whatever was about to come.

“I know you said this van isn’t being monitored, but do you have any means of communication once I’m inside?” I wrote down and showed him the paper.

He hummed and mulled it over, then came to an answer.

“That’s going to be tricky. It’s got sensors, not to mention that any unauthorized radio signals are blocked. But...I’ve got a solution,” he then reached back and handed me a pair of contact lenses. I was confused, but took them anyway. Hell, I probably needed them given that my glasses were left at my cousin’s house.

“Yeah, yeah. I know most communication devices are ear pieces, but those would be too obvious. With this, I can track where you are from the inside, plus we can communicate. Not only that, but it emits a low enough frequency that it should go undetected. However, it would still be tricky, as they’re likely to notice something’s up the second you tell me something. So you’d have to find the right opportunity.”

I smiled. Not that I was really in a good mood, but I just couldn’t help but marvel at how well things were lining up. At once, I put the contacts in (really, I didn’t know how I managed such a feat with those guys in the fields, considering how weak my vision must have been) and thought it over.

That just means you’ll have to work fast, Weatherboy.

“We’ll use code words,” I wrote down, and listed my plan.

He then seemed hesitant.

“Are you sure about all of this?” He asked after a quite audible gulp.

I nodded. There was no question.

For the remainder of the ride, I was silent. There was nothing more than needed to be said. Any more to say than necessary would have just been a bother. Sure, there was the issue of my knife. If there was anything like metal detectors, that might have been a problem. But I couldn’t prepare for everything. I’d just have to do my best with the resources available.

“Well,” his voice oozed dread. He was even less confident now that when we were on the road, “we’re here.”

He announced just a few hours after we had departed. From that, I could infer that this headquarters wasn’t all that far from where my cousins lived. That was even more worrisome.

I jolted up. Against my better judgment, I must have dozed off near the end. Those guys who shared the space with me were still sound asleep. Good.

“So,” I yawned as I opened my mouth to speak. It sounded foreign. “I’m going in alone. See you in a bit.”

“Be careful,” he urged. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that was genuine concern. How odd considering that not only did we just meet, but he also was tasked with taking my life not too long ago.

It really did look like it used to be a prison complex. It had its own barbed wire fence and gate, as well as a barren dirt field both in the front and back of it. To my surprise, I entered without any such greeting. I expected armed guards out front. I also expected to be escorted once inside. That didn’t come either.

How careless of them. Either they’re overconfident or just stupid. Either way, I shouldn’t complain.

Inside was pristine marble. Sterile, like a dentist’s office. But longer and more haunting in its uniform nature. Up above was the second floor, just as I had been told, along with many cell doors. Really, they couldn’t even be bothered to refurbish the cells and turn them into decent room spaces? How lame.

Further down the narrow corridor, I spotted him: a wide balding man in a tuxedo with a monocle and heavy grin. He looked like his name would have been Igor or something. He sure had a wicked smile. Seated at a desk in the back with a computer to his side, he had his hands folded. Beside him were several, not just two, three, or four, but well over a dozen armed men in heavy metal armor and helmets that didn’t seem so easily removable.

Real deal, huh? We’ll see.

I approached his desk, looked down at the man who seemed just like a caricature of a capitalist pig.

“Greetings, greetings,” he announced, jovial and repulsive.

He wants to act all friendly. Well, I’ll put on a show for him, then.

“Oh wow, what is this place?” I looked around and did my best to sound astonished.

“You like it?” He flashed me a grin. “It’s still a little under construction, as you can tell. Soon we hope to be one of the greatest organizations in the world. We’re known as Custodians United Notorious Technicians. We specialize in taking jobs requested to us by powerful individuals. Oftentimes we clean up the messes that others would regrettably make. Well, I say ‘we’, but I only hand out the contracts. Everyone else does the work,” he worked up an obnoxious laugh with tons of snorting.

Wow, what a –

“You know, you should really consider changing the name of your group. Just saying,” I pointed out.

“Why? Oh, never mind. We’re not here to argue semantics, are we?”

“No,” I smiled back, “I suppose we aren’t. I’d like to know instead why it is you sent people to kill me. As far as I’m concerned, I’m just your average girl in her mid-twenties and trying to find her place in the world. You know, typical coming of age story, except I’m already an adult. But hey, I’m totally aimless.”

He laughed his obnoxious laugh once again.

“Well, I don’t know about that ‘average’ part. We were certainly thinking so. You see, the man who ordered the hit on you said you’d be an easy job. However, he also seemed to want to kill you for quite petty reasons.”

“Excuse me? A man wanted to hit on me? Did you tell him I’m not interested.”

I heard a snicker from one of the armed men. How unprofessional. As high-spirited as the boss was, he ignored my comment.

“Our first attempt was supposed to be much more discrete. We sent someone to shoot a deadly poison dart at you, but apparently it was intercepted and the one we sent ended up being killed by someone else instead.”

That dinner date. So that’s what it was. I was the target.

He continued.

“Now, as you know, our goal was to kill you, but after taking care of some of my men, I’ve got a different offer for you: you can join us instead, and your sole mission will be to kill a certain individual. After that, you will be free to go on about your life.”

“Gee, mister, I don’t know about that one. I’m kind of a pacifist, you see,” maybe I should have considered his offer. But I was already set on my own mission.

“Quit playing dumb,” he scolded. Jeez, not so cheerful now.

I shrugged.

“All right. Who’s the target?”

“You mean you’ll accept?” He tilted his head.

“No. I just want to know who you have in mind.”

He twirled his sausage fingers and looked ever so delighted.

“You see, when we made that first attempt on you, a witness described who you were with, her mannerisms, and then our interest soon changed.”

“Hey,” I scolded right back, “who a lady goes out with is none of your business.”

“Oh, but it is. You see, we couldn’t believe it ourselves. Are you familiar with Rhea Flection? She used to be a member of the group which inspired ours, and she had quite the reputation. Her final mission ended in her death, or so it should have. It would appear that not only is she alive, but you know her. So while we admire all the work that she’s done...we want her out of the picture. She was part of an old era, and it’s time for a new generation to take up the business.”

Of course. It always comes back to Remora. I could never escape it.

“So, what do you say?” He leaned in and asked.

What do I say...what do I say…

Rather than dignify his question, I burst into laughter.

“Who?” I shot back.

“You know who. You were with her. It would seem you have some interest in her.”

I couldn’t hold back my laughter.

“You mean Rhea Perlman? Danny DeVito’s wife? I don’t know why you brought her up, but I don’t like her as much as Danny DeVito. I get what you’re thinking: she’s a woman, so I should like her, right, just ‘cause she’s a woman? I mean, I do like women, and women are neat. They’re just so…women,” I was getting a little ahead of myself. That’s okay. That little distraction should have been enough to give Weatherboy all the time he needed. “But really, Danny DeVito’s my favorite. Like, oh my god. I’ve got the biggest celebrity crush on him. Have you seen that hunk of man? Everyone always thinks that Matilda was his best movie, but I’d argue Junior was his magnum opus. I mean, how do you top it? Such cinematic brilliance. But really, he’s just the type of actor who can make anything he stars in great, just by being in it.”

“What...what are you going on about?” He sat, baffled at my rant. Little did he know that ‘Danny DeVito’ was one of the code words.

“You’re really not making this easy for me,” Weatherboy complained.

“Oh, come on. It’s no secret that I’m known as Danny DeVito’s #1 fan. If you did a little more research about me, you would’ve known that. Hell, it’s probably on my profile you’ve got on me.”

With that, he gave a suspicious look and turned to his computer. Once he gave a good look, his eyes grew wide, then he turned to a look of pure rage.

“What’s going on? All of your information’s changed! It says your name is ‘Danielle DeVito’, your address is somewhere in New Jersey, and your age is 69.”

I had to stifle back another laugh. Out of all the things he could have changed my info to…

It doesn’t really matter, though. It’s less about what it says and more about what it no longer says.

“I don’t know how you did it, but I’ve got your information backed up.”

He scrolled on his computer and although I couldn’t see the screen, I didn’t have to. Soon he growled in frustration, and I knew whatever dirt he had on me was long gone.

“What the –”

“Tsk, tsk,” I sneered at him, “you should really protect your files better.”

It went without saying that ‘protect’ was another code word.

“Deploying the walls now,” I heard Wheaty’s little voice.

Walls shot up in front of the guards and blocked them in place. On the other side, another wall. Soon the space in front of me grew more narrow, and more important, it was just ‘the boss’ and I.

“What’s going on?!” He slammed a fist against his desk.

I leaned up to him, pulled out my knife, then jammed it into his palm. He let out a shriek.

“Guards!” He called. But they couldn’t do anything. They were trapped in. Considering how tough the walls were, I’d say he only had himself to blame.

“If you wanted to kill me, you could have. Hell, I probably deserve it. But you do not go after my family,” I leaned my face up to his, and breathed out a low, rumbling growl. Tears filled his face, along with snot, and his face contorted to a low hanging frown.

Just as swift, I pulled out my knife and blood trickled out from his palm. I sheathed the knife, then walked away.

“Holy shit!” Weatherboy, okay, Wheaty, exclaimed.

“Don’t act so surprised,” I dismissed his shock.

As I walked away, I noticed the portly leader of his failed organization get up and try to charge after me.

“Wheaty. Deploy a wall behind me,” I ordered. He did just as I commanded, and the wall shot up from the floor and I heard the pathetic excuse for a boss slide down. Next, I heard pointing. Along with the pounding of those many men, it really grew quite bothersome.

I can’t just leave here. This whole organization has to go. They don’t get any more chances at my life. They don’t get to threaten my family ever again. It simply cannot be allowed to exist.

My back to the wall, I gave the next order:

“Deploy turrets on the others. Now.”

Despite how immediate his response was for everything else, I sensed hesitance with this one.

“Are you sure about this?” He questioned, nervous.

“Yes. Just put a wall in front of the desk.”

“...OK…” His hesitance still showed through.

Soon I heard the turrets come up with their mechanical whirring. They fired without hesitation, an immediate hail of bullets and shells.

Their screams erupted, shot after bloody shot. Splats against the walls. Endless shrieks. Coupled with the intense drumming of the turrets, it bled through my ears and wouldn’t let me forget the sounds. It wouldn’t go away, and considering how tough their armor was, they wouldn’t go down so easily. But they were trapped, no way of escape. Even as their pounds against the walls begged for release. Sooner or later, they would be reduced to several bloody chunks. Just as that boss must have already been.

It all made me sick to my stomach.

I did this. I gave the order. All these soldiers, or assassins, or whatever they called themselves. They could have had family of their own. Children, friends, people who they cared for. And I took that away from them. There’s no room to regret it, though. They would have taken those things away from me, or anyone, with no hesitation. I couldn’t just let them live. But –

Any one of them could have been like Remora. Forced into it. If that’s the case, I just took away any hope they could have had of freedom. Worse? Even though I feel justified, I hate it. I hate that I so easily took away their lives while I’m standing back and waiting for it all to end. Yes, Remora did something similar with her own group, to ensure her survival. Took out the entirety of her old organization. She claimed she didn’t feel a thing, didn’t care. But I? I feel everything. Every scream. Every bullet. Every piece to hit the ground. I can see their faces, see their horror in my head, even if I can’t see how it actually is. I’m so close to it.

I lifted up the collar of my shirt underneath my hoodie and held it up to my mouth. I felt like I was about to throw up. That noise, their pain, their deaths, it wouldn’t go away. Air seemed to fill with smoke. Or maybe it did behind those walls, and I just imagined the smoke around me as well. It was suffocating. I grew dizzy, lightheaded, and it seemed like I was about to pass out as I slid down against the wall and dropped to the floor.

You know, maybe Remora didn’t care, but that must have been for the better. It’s worse to have the capacity to care and still commit terrible acts. No doubt. I was worse.

“Are you okay?!” Wheaty shouted into the receiver.

“Of course,” I winced as I lifted myself back up. My voice was harsh, but for whatever reason, he seemed worried. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Well, you’ll be glad to know it’s over now,” he let me know. Despite that, I still heard the rain of bullets. Then, I rubbed the sides of my head and a few seconds later, silence, save for a small sizzling sound.

“Good. You can put down the walls now.”

He did as I requested, and I retched upon seeing the damage I had done. That boss was a bloody mess, sprawled up on the floor. Those dozen or so guys to my left were also piled up on the floor. Their sight wasn’t so gruesome, as their armor obscured most of it, but chunks of their armor had broken off and red exposed flesh showed through.

I walked across, minded where I stepped, then went behind the former boss’ desk. There was a room I didn’t notice before, but I did now.

“Hey, do you know if this room’s locked?” I asked.

“It doesn’t appear so.”

I turned the knob. Sure enough, it opened up.

Inside was a large safe of money, all piled high against the walls. On top of that, however, was a stack of weapons and strange glowing minerals. Too bad none of those weapons were used on me. Maybe if they were, I’d have been long gone. If only.

“Come in. I’ve got the money,” I told him, “try not to mind the dead bodies.”

I sifted through the safe. Any other opportunist would have taken whatever money they could get their hands on. I never said I had my priorities straight.

Those minerals and weapons interested me, but I dare not take those, either. I had no idea what either of them were capable of or why they were kept in a safe. Still, I made note of it. While I had no intention of returning to this place, it might be useful to remember such things for the future.

It took a few minutes, but he showed up. When I saw him, he looked just as disgusted as I was. Couldn’t blame the guy. I noticed some serious eye baggage and he was slumped over. It must have taken a great deal of strength for him not to throw up then and there.

“What a mess,” he sounded exasperated.

“You’re telling me,” I replied, then handed him the cash. He took it, then looked up, dejected.

“Hey, take care,” he sounded glum, but I appreciated the sentiment.

“Thanks.”

“And by the way...no offense, but I hope we don’t ever meet again.”

“I don’t blame you,” I echoed the sentiment.

He waved, then walked off. Before he got far, I called for him:

“Hey! What about the contacts?”

He shrugged.

“Keep them. I’ll disconnect the signal later. I’m more worried about where I’m going to drop off these guys in the back of the van.”

Fine enough by me. He served his purpose. I’d get rid of the contacts myself sooner or later. Though the fact that my glasses were left at my cousin’s house was a concern. First, I had some unfinished business before leaving the place: I had to figure out who ordered the hit on me, then pay them a visit. To that end, I checked on the computer for any information I could find. Sure enough, I found what I was looking for and then some.

II

I’d have departed right away if not for what, or rather, who stood in my way: some robotic figure with silver steel armor and a thin helmet with red pointed earpieces on each side with a shape which reminded me of the head of a dragon. It had a red, see-through visor, but I couldn’t quite make out the face on the inside.

Whoever you are, I really don’t have time for this, so if you could just step aside, that would be great.

“What do you want? If it’s a fight, I’d advise against it, else you end up like those guys over there,” I pointed my thumb behind me.

“You’re welcome to try. But I already withstood those bullets,” came a deep and feminine voice which held a similar dark timbre in her words as I now held.

“So what do you want, then? Are you here to kill me? Finish the job for your boss?” I threw my hands out. I really didn’t know why this person wouldn’t just move.

“I never worked for them. I just infiltrated their headquarters to gather information,” came her flat reply. I watched as she turned her attention toward the pile of corpses. “Though gruesome, they’re no concern to me. However, I will make sure to give them all a proper burial.”

How touching. Real touching.

“What information did you find?” I tapped my foot.

She looked around the building, then back at me.

“Did you know that this place has technology which can harm angels? Or, that’s one name for them, anyway. Now, why such a place would need such technology is a concern in itself.”

“Uh, excuse me? Angels?”

“You’re right; it doesn’t matter. This world has its own problems. It doesn’t need some otherworldly being wreaking havoc.”

Then why mention it at all?!

“I just found it interesting. That these people would try to recreate such a terrible organization. ‘Janitors’, they used to call them. Killers and stalkers and thieves. If nothing else, I must commend you for making it so they could not develop further.”

“Uh...you’re welcome?”

“Back there, you knew who Rhea was, didn’t you?” She asked at last, her question made the hairs on my skin stand on end.

“You’re right,” I admitted. “I know who he was referring to. But she died. So tough luck.”

“I see. Of course.”

Gee, this is Cronus all over again...shit. I never wanted to think about that. That place or that sicko.

“What about the name ‘Remora’?” Her question changed to one I recognized. My heart sank, and it felt I had stared into the eyes of Medusa herself as I stood in place, like a stone.

“That drew out a reaction,” she noted. “I take it you do know her.”

Fuck. Now I got my own body betraying me. Bad body.

Thinking fast, I scoffed.

“No,” I deflected. “I was just surprised. Like, who the hell would ask me if I knew the name of a fish? I’m not even interested in fish, so you’re lucky I even recognized that name at all!”

“Actually, that’s the name of a person,” she corrected. As if I even had to guess.

“That’s a ridiculous name for a person,” I shot back. “Who names their kid that? Rather, if nobody named them that, then why would they name themselves that?”

“You can come up with whatever excuse you want, but I could tell by your reactions alone that you know who I’m talking about. Now tell me where she is,” she demanded.

Look, Miss Power Ranger, even if your assessment is correct, I really have no clue where she could be.

“Why do you want to know, anyway?” I grimaced. It felt like I was giving up the game, but what else could I do?

“Because she killed my father. She needs to pay her due,” she stated. So direct, too.

“I don’t know if you know this, but I probably killed plenty of fathers just now. Not that I know, but just a guess.”

“Yet none of them were mine.”

Well, she was focused, at least. Had to give her credit there.

“So? You think you have the moral high ground? You think as long as you get revenge on one person, that no one else matters? Satisfy your desires, everyone else be damned?” Anger rose in me. But not about the subject of revenge, no. I was pissed that out of all the people she wanted to kill, it wasn’t me.

“What’s your point?” She accused.

“Hey Inigo Montoya! If you had any sense, you’d kill me!” I clenched my fists and shouted. “Why wait for someone who doesn’t matter when I’m right here!”

“If it’s retribution you see, you will get what is owed to you in due time. I have no need to intervene.”

There was nothing I could have said to provoke her and worse yet, she got what she wanted out of me: confirmation that Remora was someone I knew.

Frantic, I looked around and noticed a large rock. Or rather, it was loose debris from the floor. I grabbed it and threw it at her. She didn’t so much as flinch.

“If you want to know where Remora is, you’ll have to go through me!” I shouted once again.

“Why are you defending her? She’s a murderer,” through her confusion, I sensed the slightest bit of irritation in her. Yet that raised a good question: why was I defending her? She was no longer in my life and neither of us cared about the other. So it shouldn’t have mattered.

I took a step back.

“I-I’m not,” I struggled to get out the words. “I’m just not feeling very cooperative!”

I grabbed another chunk of debris and threw it her way, and that time she deflected it and tossed it aside like it was nothing.

“Enough!” She shouted. “Tell me where I can find her and quit with this nonsense!”

Ha. Finally I got a rise in her. Sorry, Miss Sentai, but nonsense was what I was good at.

“Or else what? You’ll kill me?”

“No. I have no interest in doing so.”

“That’s too bad, because I’m not going to tell you anything otherwise.”

Behind me was a gun which belonged to one of the corpses. If the turrets didn’t do the trick against her like she suggested, then I doubted such a weapon would either. But that wasn’t what I was hoping for. I just wanted to piss her off.

I grabbed it and I had to use both hands due to its heaviness. It was a miracle I could even pick it up at all, but I attributed it to the adrenaline in me. As soon as I picked it up, I opened fire.

Of course, it all bounced off, but it served its purpose, and she took a step forward, then ran after me.

Good, I thought, let the chase commence.

It didn’t go how I expected it to, however. Flame emitted from the soles of her metallic shoes and she propelled herself forward.

Rocket shoes? Seriously?! No fair.

I picked up the pace, threw the gun up to the second floor, and hurried up a ladder.

Maybe I could find an explosive, escape through a window, and leave her in the rubble. Wouldn’t that be grand?

Once up, I grabbed the gun and opened fire. It stopped her in her tracks, but not even a crack or a dent showed. Even as I unloaded more bullets, nothing. Once the thing was empty, I just threw it down. Maybe its weight could crack her visor at the very least. Do something.

Nope. Just like before with the debris, she swatted it away.

Come on! I have to do something!

On the wall, I found a fire extinguisher. I grabbed it and as soon as she landed at the second floor, I squeezed the nozzle down beneath her.

Maybe it obscured her vision, or stalled her, I wasn’t sure, but a great cloud formed and I saw it as an opportunity to charge forward and ram the extinguisher into that stupid helmet of hers.

To my surprise, two things happened:

1) First, I saw the silhouette of her helmet and cracks began to form in her visor.

2) She grabbed the extinguisher, crushed it in her hand, then tossed it aside. I’ll be honest, it was kinda hot.

After the smoke cleared, I saw the anger in her eyes, and her helmet came off to reveal a woman with short, auburn hair and dark brown eyes. Let me rephrase: her helmet didn’t ‘come off’ so much as it unfolded or something, back into her suit.

“What are you, Iron Lady? Don’t you know that billionaires can’t be superheroes? It’s an oxymoron!” I teased.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to, but you’re really trying my patience,” she replied through grit teeth.

Heh. Now that your helmet’s down, you’re vulnerable.

I reached into my pocket and unsheathed my knife. In a desperate attempt at...something, I lunged at her, my aim was for somewhere on that pretty face of hers. Instead, she grabbed my arm and tightened her grip enough for me to drop my knife.

Jeez. Her suit’s not just for show. She really is that strong. When it came down to it, what did I have to show for myself? I could take down men almost twice my size, but Astro Woman over there? No chance.

She lifted me up until I had to look down just to see her face. She looked up, bared her teeth, and seethed with repulsion.

“I know this isn’t appropriate for the situation, but I just wanna say that I’m kinda turned on right now,” I informed her. I wasn’t being serious, and I doubt she was even my type, but I really just wanted to get on her nerves.

“Disgusting,” she replied, and I propelled my legs forward and tried to knock her down. However, she didn’t even budge.

“Pathetic. It seems without someone there to help you out, you’ve got nothing.”

“Yes, please, degrade me more,” I groaned, rather annoyed, myself, as I tried to struggle free from her grip. At least she helped me out with that, as she swung her arm back and sent me flying toward the nearest wall where my back slammed against it and I fell.

“At least I know she’s out there, somewhere. I can find her on my own. You weren’t even worth my time,” she spat down at me.

I watched as she walked away, and I tried to get myself up, but I was just too sore. Loathe as I was to admit, she was right: I wasn’t nearly as badass as I propped myself up to be. At least my family would be safe, that was what mattered. Remora, on the other hand? Fuck. She might have been right about that, too. Whether or not I should have, even if she didn’t need defending, I really wanted to keep her safe. I hated that part of myself, along with the part of myself that committed such atrocities, but I couldn’t shake either part of me.

It took a while, even a great deal of strength on my part, but I struggled back up, and limped on ahead. That delay really did put a damper on what I was looking forward to the most: dying.

She was a distraction, someone who I never accounted for, and because of that, I was late for my final confrontation. But soon, I would pay them a visit, and at last, I would find the release I so desperately craved.

III

For whatever reason, the one who ordered the hit on me was staying at a hotel just a few miles away. Maybe it was for the sake of convenience. Convenient for him, or convenient for me, I wasn’t sure which. It didn’t really matter, anyway.

It took a few more hours, no driver to take me and I refused to try to hotwire a car I knew I couldn’t even drive. Ha. Within just a few minutes of walking, I regretted not trying to hijack something. I was too sore. That fight took more out of me than I wanted it to. Maybe that was for the best, though. It would give me less of a fighting chance. Whoever it was who wanted me dead, I decided I would just give it to them. There was a good chance that whoever they were felt too weak to fight me, but it shouldn’t have been a problem if I didn’t resist, right?

So I walked, all bruised and with a bloody lip, awaiting my end.

By the time I reached the hotel, it was daybreak. Few cars occupied the parking lot. White line dividers looked more animated. I imagined that the paint was fresh. In my delirious state, I tried to bend down and slide my finger across it. But I couldn’t even reach that far. That mysterious armored woman sure did a number on me.

I looked up at the tall, golden building. Despite its extravagance, it looked a little rundown and beat up. Just like me. Holy hell, I just couldn’t do humor anymore. I couldn’t even humor the idea of humor.

I pulled out my phone. It wasn’t very kind of me. I had months to deliberate and I didn’t send so much as a hello. There was no indication that I ever wanted a friend. That I even wished to reach out to one. Pathetic, I thought to myself, about myself, as I reached for that crumpled piece of paper and entered in the digits. Within a few seconds, I texted:

Me: Could you please come get me? No pressure if you’re busy or asleep or anything. Take your time. I’ll probably be dead by the time you get here, anyway.

Then I texted her the address and set the phone back in my pocket. Once I pushed open those glass doors, I knew there wasn’t any going back from it, and honestly? I didn’t want to. Rather than fear, I wanted to enter that room and get it over with. Let them end me.

I staggered up to the front desk, a kindly young woman stood there, big brown poofy hair. Her gold plated name tag read ‘Janis’. If that was one of the last memories I were to have before I departed, was it worth it? To have such a memory? I didn’t think so. That fuzzy carpeted lobby, its red and black diamond pattern. That was also not worth noting.

“Hello, how may I help you?” She smiled all wide and asked in some grating robotic voice. Weak, I answered:

“I’ve got someone expecting me in room 811,” I told her. Rather, I’m expecting them.

“Oh, of course. He told me he’d have a guest. Go right up, the door should be unlocked for you,” she gestured toward the elevator.

Well gee, if that’s not suspicious at all. Someone really was expecting me.

“Thank you,” I mustered out the words. Even if she was in on it, whatever ‘it’ was, I still tried to use my fucking manners.

Rather than use the elevator, even if the rest of me pleaded with me not to walk so much, I took the stairs. Yes, I wanted to get it over with. End it. But at the same time...I felt confident that I could take my time. My breaths were labored, and I just about collapsed a couple of times while on my way up, but that didn’t stop me.

Once I stood in front of room 811, I turned the handle and entered:

It was a darkened room, only a dim lamp to illuminate. It was also a cluttered room, with very little space to walk around in. Tall dressers and cabinets occupied the walls. Above it were tin figures of tigers and dragons and many miniature globes. I allowed the door behind me to close into place. When I stared ahead, I noticed a wooden desk and a puffed up black swivel chair with its back turned to me.

Only the second man behind a desk I’ve encountered in the past 24 hours. Lucky me.

“So you’ve arrived,” a gruff, gravelly voice spoke. Despite only meeting him once, long ago, I recognized his voice. It was different from how I remembered, but there was no mistake. Then, when he turned around, any room for doubt was erased:

Jerry Mander.

He wore a pinstripe suit with thin black and white stripes. Black, disheveled hair covered the top of his head, and a pronounced stubble worked its way upon his chin. In a strange way, he reminded me of Ray, only Jerry had no glasses. Neither did I. To think my final moment would come without my glasses on.

“I figured you would after the first attempt was foiled. I told them that you weren’t to be underestimated, but they didn’t listen. Oh, no,” any sort of humor or joy was devoid from him as well. Whatever happened to the two of us, we were like two peas in some broken pod. “They told me not to worry about it. That they were professionals. Ha. Like I wasn’t?”

So I had a name and face. But the motive was unclear.

“Let me guess: you entered their lair and took them all out?”

I didn’t answer. I just let him talk. That’s what he wanted, right?

“You don’t need to tell me the details, but I’m right, aren’t I?” He wheezed out a laugh. Again, devoid of anything resembling humor. “Just my fucking luck. I mean, I knew it would happen, I just knew, but I paid good money, and look at what good it did me.”

Truth be told, I thought he was kind of goofy when I met him. But all of those details about him were fuzzy. He took a treasure from Sunny, tied her and I up, but I broke free. That’s it.

“Just so you know, there are two small laser cannons hanging from the ceiling. Any sudden movements, any attempt on my life, and they’ll fire.”

Good. Can I just step forward and get this over with?

“Now, answer me: do you have a gun hidden in your pocket that you planned to shoot me with?”

I shook my head.

“Good,” he then reached under the desk and pulled out a revolver. “However, I’ve got one. You won’t be taking it from me, either. It’s just you and I. Understood?”

I said nothing in response.

He fired his revolver and I felt a sharp pain hit through my left shoulder. It spread and I reached my right arm to cover the wound as blood soon leaked through both my sleeve and my palm. I tensed up and howled, doing my best not to shed any tears.

“ANSWER ME!” He roared.

“Y-Yes! Understood!” I cried out. Then, I hissed and seethed. I scowled and snarled at him with the intensity of a wolf whose paw had just been stepped on.

“Good. You’re going to answer me when I speak. You owe me that much after what you’ve taken from me. Do you know what I’m referring to?”

“No,” even in my pain, my delivery was low, if a little hoarse.

“Let me refresh your memory, then.”

I glanced down at the floor and noticed the blood that had dripped down.

“Look at me,” he ordered. I didn’t feel like a rebel, but I sure hated being ordered around. Still, given the position I was in, I did so.

“You see, I was a business man, and Sunny was a competitor of sorts. My men and I would try to get to ancient treasures before her, and she’d try to get to them before me. Sometimes, I’d capture her and gloat as I took the treasure for myself. At times when she’d get the treasure, I’d shoot at her, alongside my loyal followers. Sometimes when she was captured she’d break free and take the treasure back. It didn’t really matter much of the time who won, save for the fact that I still won sometimes and I was well respected among my employees. That’s how things were, and should have been until you showed up one day and shot my foot.”

So that’s what it was. Something I had long since forgotten, he’s held a grudge for.

“I didn’t know about all that,” I told him. It was the truth. I was naive, wanted to impress others, wanted to look badass. What else could I have said?

“Of course you didn’t. You probably thought you were playing hero. You didn’t know the relationship Sunny and I had, the history.”

“You can still have that,” I told him. For whatever reason, I didn’t know. He didn’t seem like he wanted a pep talk.

“Wrong!” He raised his voice to a shrill bark once again. “Do you know what happened after you shot me?”

“No.”

“Of course not. How could you? Well, let me tell you: I could hardly walk without limping. I had to use a cane. I was out of commission for months. Then, many of my employees resigned, having lost respect for me. The few that I had weren’t enough to cut it for the tasks I took on. Every little opportunity, every assignment brought with it a loss. Morale sunk with each passing day. It was like meeting you brought forth a bad luck that I could never scrub my hands clean of.”

“I didn’t know,” I repeated myself. That time, it sounded like a plea. Not for my life, but...something else that I couldn’t grasp.

“Shut up. You’re not telling me anything that I can’t already tell just by looking at you. Do you know the last assignment I had before hiring someone to kill you? No. Don’t answer me this time. You don’t, so let me tell you: I had a theory that Sunny had amassed some kind of army of short people to take me down. So I hired a strong kid who I thought couldn’t be beaten. My men and I then ventured into a cave in Switzerland for an ancient block of Swiss cheese. Do you know what – no,” he ground his teeth, then continued, “Sunny arrived, along with this kid that fought the one I hired. It was a joke, a total farce. We lost. More than that, it made me into a joke. It was humiliating.”

That must have been Tigershark. Even if I didn’t know the exact situation, there was no way Tigershark was to blame for any of this.

“It wasn’t the kid’s fault,” I told him.

“You’re right: it was yours. See, after I suffered that lost and the last of my henchmen had left me, I stewed in my mansion. Oh, poor me, right? I’ve got myself a fancy mansion. Wrong. That no longer mattered to me, as I couldn’t do much of the things I enjoyed. It was empty. No one wanted to hang around me. I was a total laughingstock. So I got to thinking: what was the root cause of all of this? Who was responsible? Because it wasn’t Sunny, and it wasn’t no damn kids. No. It was you.”

I didn’t argue. I didn’t even think I could.

“How funny, too. I was obsessed, and from that obsession, I was able to dig up some dirt on you: Demetria Root. ‘Demisexual’? Give me a break. I can tell just by looking at you that you’re a virgin.”

You’re not wrong, but that seriously has nothing to do with anything.

“I remember something you told me, back when you pointed that gun at me. How I told you that you shouldn’t risk it, that you didn’t even look like you knew how to fire one. Do you remember what you told me?”

“No. I don’t.”

“Something to the effect of, ‘I don’t value my life all that much. I’ve got less to lose.’ But as it turns out, you’ve got family. You’ve got people who are willing to protect you, judging by the fact that the person who tried to shoot a poison needle at you got killed. Plus, you’ve got people you’re willing to protect. But do you know how people like Sunny and I are able to do what we do? Because we don’t have family. That, or we keep that shit a secret. We don’t make ourselves traceable. Don’t you know why heroes have secret identities? It’s because of that.”

Of course. I was careless. Time and time again, and now it was time to pay the price.

“So the roles have reversed: I’ve got less to lose, as I’ve already lost most of what I had. I spent all my money just so I could get a chance at ending your life, and that too failed. Now here we are, you and I, and neither of us will leave this room until one of us dies. If it happens to be both of us, so be it.”

But if it happens to be you, Jerry? I began to think, but had to stop myself. I wanted to let him kill me. So I couldn’t bear the thought of him risking his own life, even if both of us died, that wouldn’t be good enough. I had to be the only one.

“You don’t have to do this,” I spoke up. “I know how it looks. You’ve got nothing left. You don’t know what to do with your life anymore. So even if things could be better later on, you couldn’t imagine what those things could be. So that’s what you choose: to go down doing what you know. At least it would be on your own terms, right? But you have no idea the impact it could have. I’m telling you this right now.”

“Are you begging for your life? Is that it?” He grunted.

Wrong. I’m begging for yours.

I went on.

“It may not seem like it. It may seem like you’ve been reduced to a joke. But after you die, people will talk about you, prop you up. Some will speak fond of you, some will wish they had killed you themselves. Some will wish for what could have been. What could have happened if you and them became friends. Some would be glad you were dead, or even joke about you, yes. But they would be talking. Stories would be passed around about you. People would be fascinated by you. ‘Oh, that Jerry Mander. What a legend. I wish I could have met him’, they’ll say.”

“Enough!” He snapped. His voice darkened to a near-demonic growl. “Do you know what my original name was? Ben Dover. But that name too was a joke, so I changed it to the much more dignified Jerry Mander. From that, I was infamous. I had an empire built up. Once, I learned that there was a man already named Jerry Mander who wrote a book criticizing capitalism. What a joke! I’m a capitalist. But you know what? I kept it. I loved the irony. However, all of that was a thing of the past. Long since gone. Once it was fun and Sunny and I laughed, two foes foiling the others’ schemes. But no more.”

“That’s the thing!” I argued. “You’re Sunny’s enemy, not mine!”

“No. You’re just a bad omen. A nightmare. Once you’re extinguished, my world will be less gray.”

“Fine. So I am. But Sunny is a sun! She’s bright! Just throw me out the window, get rid of me, go back to your old life!”

“Why do you care so much, anyway?” He accused.

You’re right. I don’t. I just want to care again. I’m sure I did, once. I’m just trying to remember what it felt like.

“I can’t talk you out of this, can I?” My voice darkened as well.

“No. You can’t,” he confirmed. Maybe if I was more powerful there could have been something else I could have said or done. Not a physical power, but...I didn’t know what. It might have just been that I was the wrong person.

Still, I stood in place and watched as he got up from his chair and pulled out a cutlass from a large pot next to his desk. I didn’t notice it before, it must have been obscured by the shadow. Or it could have just been convenient not to have noticed it.

“You deserve something more personal than just a shot to the head, or the heart. I’m going to tear you open. Watch you bleed out in pain. Watch you beg for your life, beg for mercy. But it won’t come.”

Fine. Then just do it already.

Sure enough, he leapt at me and slashed forward, and on instinct, I tried to jump back, but there was little room to move and the flesh on my stomach felt the sting of a long cut. It was shallow, or so I thought, as I just winced at first, but then a swell of blood spilled forth and I shifted from holding onto my shoulder to holding onto my stomach. Either way, I winced, and the pain was in multiple places.

“Good...hit…” I shook and raised my free hand up to give him a thumbs up.

“Even now? Even now you treat me like a joke?” His face was beet red.

You’ve got it all wrong. Damn it.

He lunged at me and I fell to the floor. By all accounts, I should have died. Those lasers should have detected my movement and hit me. He should have rammed that cutlass into my heart. None of what should have happened, happened.

No. No, no, no.

Instead, when I fell, I found myself, against my wishes, pulling out my knife to block the sword. I didn’t want to, I swear I didn’t want to. His sword got stuck in the wood floorboard, and the lasers? They hit his back. He fell on me, and to add insult to injury, the knife I pulled out to block his sword, something I didn’t even want to do? It had struck his heart.

I shut my eyes tight. Something welled up. Something that felt like tears. But no, they didn’t even come. I wasn’t even allowed that.

My shoulder’s bleeding out, my stomach’s cut open. I should think about that. Even if I make it down those stairs and out of the hotel, I’ll pass out, no, die from blood loss. Yeah. That’s right. Then I would be free, free from whoever it was I had become.

I shoved him off of me and pulled out the knife. No signs of life. No breaths. No last words. How terrible.

I left the room. Shambled, limped, whatever you wanted to call it, down those many flights of stairs. At any moment, I would collapse –

– Truth be told, I should have died long ago. Back when I was confronted by those gang of guys who wanted to assault me, maybe worse, I shouldn’t have been saved. Even if she wasn’t even thinking of saving me, Remora prevented what should have happened.

When I encountered Cronus and that strange creature at the mansion, either one of them should have taken me. Eaten me alive, devoured me. Ripped me apart. Whatever. It could have been said that I lost my sense of self there, but maybe I lost it long before that.

There were many other moments, but the fact was that I had lived through them all. None of them were deserved. Yes, I had a family. I wished them all to be safe and well. There were people who cared about me, but the bottom line was: I never deserved any of that. I wasn’t worth it.

Those were my thoughts, as were many others along the same lines, as I made my descent. Were any of them correct? Some may have even contradicted themselves. There wouldn’t be any last words coming out of me, nothing memorable. Just a bunch of jumbled up thoughts.

As luck would have it, I made my way down. Pain oozed, even if it was the last thing on my mind. Part of me didn’t want to die, wanted to keep going, but didn’t know what for.

Using the weight of my unharmed shoulder, I shoved my way out of the glass doors and stepped into the parking lot. Commotion, possible panic from the front desk agent, followed. It all came out as static. Once outside, I collapsed.

[tonydadisbestdad]

House Party

PeterxReader

Dad!Tony

Word Count: 2,123

Request by @panickedbrain : i love you writing!! could i request a dad!tony and his daughter is with peter and they host a party when he’s out of town and finds out? (sorry if this is too specific or anything!!)

A/N: Thank you for the request! I hope you enjoy! I’ve been thinking about how much I need to update all my masterlists and stuff and like I could totally do that tomorrow but will I? We’ll see! (Probably not lmfao) (mobile doesn’t have read more.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey,” You greeted Peter, a slight bounce in your step as you stopped beside his locker.

He offered you a warm smile, glad to see you so happy on a dreary wednesday morning. “Hi baby, what’s up?”

“So, you know how this weekend is like… our last weekend of senior year before we graduate?” You asked.

“Yeah, I know,” Peter chuckled at you. “We were going to go out this weekend to celebrate, just us still right? Since next week will be literal chaos…”

“Yeah, I definitely want to do something just us, but what would you say to me throwing a party for the whole class?” You fluttered your eyes at him. He wasn’t exactly into parties, but you enjoyed going to them. You never threw any because of your dad. “This is my last chance to throw one, Peter. You know I’ve always wanted to. Dad’s going to be away for the weekend with Pepper, it’s perfect timing.”

With you giving him that look, how could he oppose? “You’re sure that’s a good idea? Especially behind your dad’s back? You know you constantly have cameras watching you at your place. Won’t that just be straight evidence?” You began to frown at him so he quickly added. “I’m not saying no, I’m just asking if you’ve thought everything through.”

“Yes, I have everything under control. Plus you’ll be there to help me if things start getting out of control. Which they won’t.”

“Okay,” He leaned forward and kissed your forehead. “Which night so I can tell May I’m staying at Ned’s?”

You giggled in excitement and wrapped your arms around his neck.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

After your nice date with Peter on friday night, you immediately began setting things in place for saturday night’s party. You’d already informed your entire class of the event and just needed to make sure there wasn’t anything anyone could get into that would be a problem and that anything breakable was securely away.

You’d programmed a D.J. Setting into F.R.I.D.A.Y. Ordered a bunch of food and drinks, it was going to be awesome.

The penthouse was perfect for large parties and while your class was only roughly 80 students, well it wouldn’t be like one of your dad’s parties.

Peter, Ned, and M.J. Came over saturday afternoon to help you make sure everything was set up. As it neared the time people would start showing up you pulled M.J. Off to get changed, you let her borrow something extra cute to wear and she even let you do her makeup.

“So,” you sang as the two of you returned to the living room where the boys were watching dumb videos.

When they looked back they had to double take at M.J.

Your friend grumbled beside you, “I feel like a clown.”

You rolled your eyes, “M you look great! Right guys?”

They both nodded.

“Yeah, wow, who knew you could look like an actual girl,” Peter quipped.

She stuck her middle finger up at him.

“I think you look beautiful,” Ned said, you could practically see his heart eyes.

“Miss Stark,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. Interrupted, “your first bout of guests has arrived. I’ve informed them where to go.

“Thanks F.R.I. Turn up the music please!” You smiled. “Well, guys, ready to party?”

“Hell yeah,” the trio chorused.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

You spent your first hour greeting your peers and playing host. Which, to Peter seemed like enough time, considering he was pretty sure the majority of your class was already there, minus a few. So, he decided it was time for you to enjoy the party too. He came up behind you, two cups in hand, and wrapped his arms around your waist.

You leaned into him and turned your head enough to smile at him. “Hi baby, having fun?”

“I’d be having more fun if you came to hang out with me for a bit,” He told you, offering you one of the cups.

You took it gratefully and sipped from it. You were never big on drinking at parties but you figured since it was actually yours and you were already home, why not. You followed your boyfriend into the party. Glad it seemed like everyone was having fun.

He got you to dance with him, which of course immediately had you smiling and enjoying yourself.

When Peter stopped suddenly you looked at him concerned. “What’s wrong?”

You turned around to see what he was looking at. Towards the elevators you were surprised to see Flash, along with a group of guys with him. Well Flash wasn’t exactly the problem. The guys were definitely not from your school. In fact they were all wearing varsity jackets and your school didn’t even have a football team.

“Uh, I think Flash extended your invitation…,” Peter said.

As the group dispersed you started towards your boyfriend’s bully. You hadn’t even wanted to invite him but since you invited the entire class you would have felt slightly bad. But now you were regretting it because you had not planned on other’s coming from a different school. Reaching Flash you smiled politely and grabbed him by the elbow, pulling him away from directing the people that had come up with him and the rest that were now coming up as well.

“Oh, hey Y/N,” Flash greeted, devious smile on his face.

“What the hell, Flash?” You snapped. “Who are all these people?”

“Them?” He asked, throwing a thumb over his shoulder. “Oh I don’t know. I posted about your party online and told some friends about it. You don’t mind, right? Your place is big enough, plus you didn’t want the party to just be the losers from school.

“Don’t put words in other’s mouths, Flash,” Peter shot, you hadn’t realized he followed you.

Flash rolled his eyes. “Screw off, Parker.”

“Hey,” You snapped. “You’re in my home, if you even think you’re going to speak to Peter like that again I’ll gladly have you escorted out. Got it?”

Flash held his hands up in defense.

“I can’t believe you just invited a bunch of random people here. If any of them break anything your ass is on the line. Do you understand?”

He rolled his eyes. “Alright, whatever, can I go now?”

You shook your head in annoyance but let him leave.

“You sure you don’t want to just kick him and all the people he brought with him out?” Peter asked hopefully.

You sighed. “I’ll give them the chance but the second any of them start anything or break something, they’re gone.”

Your boyfriend nodded and tugged you forward to kiss your head. “No problem baby, let’s go do a round to make sure everybody’s doing okay and then we can dance some more?”

You smiled and took his hand to tug him along.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

It was half past 1. You’d been bid goodbye’s by quite a number of your classmates, but for some reason it felt like the place was still full. You realized it was because the people Flash brought were loud jocks and their friends. They only continued to get louder the more they drank.

“Hey,” M.J. Greeted you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I heard some guys saying they were going to try to sneak around the place. You might want to check that out.”

You and Peter frowned at each other. However, as soon as you stood up an alarm started blaring. Everyone that was left quickly covered their ears.

“Attempted unauthorized entry,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. Announced, cutting the music immediately.

“Fuck,” You said, grabbing Peter’s hand and running with him down to the lab. On the way you told the a.i. To stop the alarm, that you’d got it. While she did listen, you had a gut wrenching feeling that your dad was now going to know that something was happening.

“Hey!” You greeted the three boys, who definitely didn’t go to your school. They were trying to punch in codes to get into the lab.

They all jumped, like they hadn’t realized the alarm was heard not just where they were.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” You shouted at them. “Out! NOW!”

Two of them began to run but one continued wait there. “Why would I listen to you?”

“Because it’s my fucking place, asshole. Now, get the hell out. There’s no reason you need to be trying to get into my dad’s lab.”

He laughed. “Yeah? So what?”

“Dude, do as she says. Get out.” Peter piped up. He didn’t like fighting in these situations. However, he wasn’t going to let this guy talk to you like that.

“Yeah? What are you going to do about it?”

“I’ll kick your ass,” You told him. It wasn’t like you weren’t trained to.

The guy laughed some more and shoved your shoulder roughly.

Peter didn’t even hesitate. He swung so hard, you heard the guys nose break.

He wailed and ran away.

Peter was immediately checking out. “Baby, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, thank you, babe.” You leaned up and kissed his cheek. With a sigh, you informed F.R.I.D.A.Y. To kick everyone out and inform you of where your dad was.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

There were 16 missed calls from your dad on your phone. 28 from Happy. And 9 from Pepper.

The last notification was a text from your dad. “We are on our way home. F.R.I.D.A.Y. Said you’re fine, but we’ll be there soon. I want details.”

You sighed and flopped down on the couch.

Peter pulled you close and you waited for your parents to get home.

The place was a mess. Drinks littered the floor and tables, there were plenty of spills, unfinished food, and overall it just looked awful.

You knew you wouldn’t have enough time to clean it all up before they got there, so you left it.

When the elevator dinged you could hear your dad and Happy arguing.

“Oh my God this place is a mess,” Pepper said.

You winced.

“Y/N,” your dad said, finding you and Peter sitting on the couch. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Care to tell me what happened here?”

You couldn’t meet his eyes. “I threw a party, someone let it slip that there was a party. Kids from another school showed up and three of them tried to get into the lab. Don’t worry, they didn’t. But I was going to have the place cleaned up like nothing happened but those jerks had to try to get into the lab. I’m sorry dad, I will clean up I promise. I just didn’t want to look like I was hiding it. I know what I did was wrong.”

“You’re damn right it was wro-“ Happy started to scold you but your dad threw a hand up to stop him.

That was when he started to laugh.

You and Peter exchanged a look.

“I can’t believe it took you this long to throw a house party while I wasn’t here,” Tony said between his laughs. He sat on the coffee table in front of you.

“W-what?” You asked.

“I’m not mad, sunshine. I was just worried about you. F.RI.D.A.Y. Is good at giving updates but I needed to be sure someone did hack her and was just feeding me false information. However, you will be cleaning this mess up, but I’m proud of you. I’m glad you took the chance to throw a party for yourself and your friends before graduation.”

“As sweet as that is,” Pepper added. “If you ever do this again, can you please tell these kids to not put food on our $15,000 couches?”

“Are we just going to act like this wasn’t a total breach in security?” Happy scolded your dad.

“Happy, come on. You know how much worse I was as a teen?” Tony asked, a slight smirk on his face.

Happy frowned. “No. And I don’t want to. I am going home. Good night.” Happy left, defeated.

“You really aren’t mad?” You asked.

Tony shook his head. “Did you have fun?”

You gave a small nod, “Well, until Peter had to punch that guy.”

Tony pat Peter on the shoulder. “Good, kid. Thanks.”

“Dad!”

Peter rubbed the back of his neck. “You know I’d always protect her.”

Tony nodded. “Exactly why I trust that the two of you would be fine throwing a party. You’re not sneaky by the way. I totally knew you were doing this before we even left.”

You pouted. “That’s not fair.”

“Sorry, sweetheart, you’re just too obvious.”

Tags: Wanna be tagged just ask!

@manchurian-barnes , @marrvelle-fics , @chloe-geoghegan1 , @buckysendoftheline , @peterparkerscamera , @esistmon , @httpmcrvel , @karlitabi-rrito , @ximaginx , @spideygirl2003

[secret-engima]

Daywan has spent her whole life knowing she was going to be a Second. It was rare, but they happened sometimes, a Second soulmate after the first died, or if something fundamental changed about a person. (The Glaive had a lot of Second Words.) What else could her Words indicate? "Thank you for taking care of my son, but why didn't you say he was here?" She'd fought against those Words for years, they'd been the center of her teen angst. Daywan had avoided children and childcare like the plague.1

Anonymous said: 2 And then came the Nifs came. They'd been in a little town, straddling the border of Lucis and Tenebrae, neutral for centuries, but the Empire hadn't cared. She'd snatched a baby out of a dying woman's arms and never looked back. As she'd begun the terrifying march that would ultimately take her to Insomnia, she'd collected children and dragged them with her. She'd bitterly regretted her adamant ignorance of childcare, but she could no more leave them to die than she could stop walking.

Anonymous said: 3 "Thank you" was waiting for her. Somehow, arguing with the guards at the gates of Insomnia with her gaggle of children clinging to her legs, climbing her back to tug on her hair, (trying to put braids in with stubborn tenacity) it didn't seem so bad now, to be Second. Not after what she'd seen. She had someone who was waiting for her, maybe he'd be the father of one of her kids. It just made sense when she found a job as a childcare worker, a little less when it turned out to be in the Citadel

Anonymous said: 4 And then there was the sweetest little boy in the daycare, probably a smuggled in relative. She got more then most, given her willingness to look the other way. And then the King came into her room, as the last straggler of the day, the new boy helping her wipe the table down as she talked about some fun foods she'd eaten (trekking cross country with demons and Nifs hunting you cut down on your food prejudices) and then, "Thank you for looking after my son, but what is he doing here?”

Anonymous said: 5 Daywan isn't even sure what she stutters in response. The warmth in her Words let her know exactly who the King was to her. Hopefully something suitably innocuous, she needed to get home and have a breakdown as she dealt with this revelation.

Anonymous said: Actually, let me change my suggested name for the daycare worker to Daywren. It flows better I think, Daywren Silverblade.

Me: This is SO stupidly adorable I love it. Gonna expand on this backstory but I really like this idea (especially of her being non-Galahdian but totally adopted because of all the kiddos she kept rescuing). Ummmm, don’t think that name will work? FFXV has it’s Naming Theme and all. Think I’m gonna call her .... Lucina. The kiddos just call her Nina because it’s easier to say.

And just-

Lucina has always been an odd child, avoiding childcare and kids like the plague after learning what the swooping scrawl on her forearm MEANT, always more willing to learn to fight and hunt and fish than most little girls her age. Always more stealthy than she should be, always more precise in action than she needed to be. The other townsfolk nod sagely to themselves and say that she’ll be sent off to the city academy once she’s old enough, become a career woman for sure. Possibly even a military woman. Lucina doesn’t mind the thought of it. Can’t get much farther from childcare than being a soldier.

But then Niflheim comes. Niflheim comes and there is a child screaming in the arms of the woman who just got shot at least a dozen times and there is no saving the woman, but she holds out her child with crazed eyes as Lucina runs by and she takes without thinking. And then she is alone in the wilderness. With a baby.

Oh no.

She picks up more of them as she goes on, other children of various ages, some small, some less small, all of them lost and scared and in need of someone to care. She steals or trades for milk to feed the littlest ones, thanks the one bit of forethought she had in taking her bow and arrows with her when she ran as she hunts down food for the ones that are too old for milk.

She isn’t quite sure HOW she makes it to Lucis without losing any of the five children she picked up, just that she did.

And then she learns of Galahd’s sudden, dramatic fall. Finds out when she stumbles on a tight-knit trio of children with ratty braids in their hair and wild eyes and she can’t help but take them too.

She picks up a Galahdian pre-teen somewhere in between the toddlers and adolescents she keeps stumbling on and she could cry from relief in having help minding, caring, and feeding.

By the time she makes it to the gates of Insomnia at age 25, exhausted and underweight and triumphant, she has fifty whole kids and three pre-teens straggling along behind her. She is NOT in the mood for the gate guard’s pomp and circumstance, and the gate guard is not prepared for Lucina’s near feral protective instincts of the kids clinging to her legs and crawling on her back adding braids to her hair (she has so many Clan braids without knowing what they are it isn’t even funny). She gets let in and Little Galahd hears about her somehow so by the time she’s finally in the gates, there’s a hoard of excited, tearful Galahdians ready to reclaim their kiddos and then claim the new kiddos AND their keeper because this woman just returned like- 40+ of their missing kids. There are literal brawls (later and in private) to determine who gets to formally adopt her into their Clan.

Lucina is too tired for the first two weeks to care. Barely bats an eye when a man approaches and introduces himself as Sonitus and asks if he can take out all but one of the braids in her hair. She tells him that if he’s willing to face the screaming hoard of kiddos that will descend upon his soul, then by all means.

It’s only later someone thinks to sit her down and explain Galahdian adoption, but she has no family now so ... being the adopted sister of a Bellum is alright she guesses. Better than being alone and homeless.

Lucina ends up getting a job in childcare. Despite never having wanted to do things with children before and not having any professional schooling in the caring of kids, apparently everyone has heard of her fifty kid entourage and assumed she was some kind of childcare person who lost her papers. Since nothing is as terrifying as keeping fifty kids (several of whom are infants) alive in the wilderness, when she is offered a daycare job by one of the Galahdians who Knows Somebody With An Opening, she takes it.

She did not expect the Knows Somebody would actually be “the guy who hires Citadel people owes me a major favor” and the Opening to be the CITADEL DAYCARE.

Okay fine whatever. Better than being jobless and at least the kids in there are healthy, well fed little scamps and food is just a microwave or oven away rather than a mile into the wilderness and ready to run if it catches her scent.

For all Lucina claims to not have a way with kids, she is Good With Kids. She had no idea why kids seem magnetically attracted to her but they are and the other workers quickly learn to yeet the problem children her way.

Which is why when she finds a newcomer smuggled in on the day she is alone in her shift (the other worker meant to work the shift with her called in sick) she doesn’t bat an eyelash and is just grateful he’s such a sweetheart. He calls her Nina without hesitation (the nickname the other daycare kiddos gave her, apparently Lucina is hard to pronounce for tiny tongues) and trundles after her in all his five year old glory, trying dutifully to help her with things so she doesn’t force him to go interact with the other kids (she does not force him, what’s the point of forcing a shy child into a situation where they don’t feel safe? It will only end in tears, let him get used to watching the others before encouraging interaction).

She doesn’t notice the Citadel’s slow descent into madness or the way two of the five Crownsguard that lurk on the outskirts of the daycare are repurposed for some other task. Well. She does notice. It’s just that she doesn’t care. As long as nothing tries to enter the daycare unauthorized it’s not her problem (and if something DOES, well, she’s got about five freshly sharpened knives hidden on her person where kiddos can’t reach and adults can’t see and the long looped cord holding back her ponytail has a steel center just GREAT for strangling someone who tries something. These kids are in her care, she’s not going to just leave it up to Crownsguard to protect them if someone so much as lays a finger on them with ill intent).

The servants and the spouses of the Crownsguard, who are apparently all working overtime today for some reason, come to pick up their kids and Lucina herds everyone into neat lines for retrieval while keeping an eye out for imposter adults or strangers (it’s happened before, she ruined her favorite top putting a stop to it before a Crownsguard managed to take care of the issue). One of the maids who works on the royal levels spots Lucina’s tiny shadow (he calls himself Noct, it’s clearly short for something but Lucina thinks it’s cute) and her eyes grow to the size of plates, “That’s-!”

Lucina blinks and idly pets the boy’s hair when he hides behind her leg, “Oh, you know him? He says his dad works upstairs. I know something is going on today but can you call his dad down here? The daycare is closing in an hour.”

The woman nods dumbly, looking shocked for reasons Lucina doesn’t get and wanders off with her own child, who is the last one other than Noct to be picked up. Lucina and Noct hang out for the next ten minutes or so as the father steadily does not come by, and Lucina is hiding her worry well over what to do with Noct as the boy busily helps her clean off the table and put away the last of the toys when the doors to the daycare slam open.

Lucina puts herself in front of Noct on instinct, hands dropping to the knife sheathed in the small of her back and ready to fight before she registers.

The Shield of the King is standing in the daycare.

The King of Lucis is standing in the daycare.

“Dad!” Chirps Noct as he buzzes past her and flings himself into the arms of the monarchy who has that distinctly crazed, frazzled look that only comes from being worried sick over one’s child.

Oh.

Oh dear.

Noct’s dad “works upstairs”.

Noct. Noctis

Oh dear.

Lucina tries to discreetly lower her hands away from the (still sheathed thank goodness) knife but is pretty sure the Shield knows exactly what she was doing. The king is still busy fussing over his son, half-lecturing until Noct starts going on about “Nina” and how much fun he had with her down here.

The King looks up, “Thank you,” he rumbles, “for looking after my son. But why did you not tell anyone he was here?”

The words on her forearm, hidden under a soulmate sleeve, burn like liquid fire and her heart stops.

She thinks- she thinks she says something in return, but her mind is screaming because-

This is her soulmate.

28 years old and she has finally met her soulmate.

And it’s REGIS LUCIS CAELUM. KING OF LUCIS.

From the shocked expression on the king’s face and the way one hand suddenly clamps on his right ribcage, she’s pretty sure he just realized it too.

[mini-moongi]

Notification [REVAMPED] || 1

Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Story prompt: What if you got an alert on your phone every time someone thought of you? They tell you their thoughts in the form of text messages.

Summary: Alert!AU, School!AU; A mysterious app appeared on your phone and you can’t get rid of it?? It texts you people’s thoughts. One day, you accidentally send the star basketball player, Min Yoongi, to the nurse’s office.

A/N: I got the sudden urge to revamp this old fic of mine bc it has SO MUCH POTENTIAL I just sucked at writing :,)) Anyways it’s been a good few years since my last written fanfic so--

Chapters: 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 coming soon!

series masterlist

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You tapped tirelessly on your phone; your eyes so dry you can hear yourself blink. It’s 3 am and you have school tomorrow, but you just have to download this new album you found whilst “studying.” After it finishes loading into your playlist, a notification popped up. You thought that maybe your years of illegally downloading music has finally caught up with you.

“ALERT: Unauthorized app: E C H O downloaded. [ERROR_606_RESET] LOG DELETED.”

You panicked, what if it’s a virus?? Going onto your home screen, you find an app called E C H O. Nothing else was out of the ordinary, except for the cryptid new app. After that fateful night, you’ve learned that it texts you the thoughts that people have about you. You couldn’t delete it, no matter how hard you tried, and you tried for weeks. Not many people think of you anyways, so it’s no biggie.

Thinking that was your first mistake.

Your friend, Byeol, was chasing you down the hallway with a dead roach she found on the floor. “Ew look, it’s guts are oozing out!!” She’s never been afraid of icky things, and will not hesitate in poking a dead organism with her bare hands. She’s a madman, and she knows you’re about to gag when she squeezes the guts of the roach between her fingers.

You’re running away from the horrifically explicit roach Byeol is holding, and as you turn your head to spew out an insult, you crash into another body. It sends you tumbling on top of them with no support to stop the fall. He lets out a deep guttural groan from the impact, and a loud “Fuck!” escapes the stranger’s lips.

Bumping into him was your second mistake.

You don’t even look at them, too scared to make eye contact as you blurt out,” I’m so sorry!!” You hastily try to recollect yourself and offer your hand to the poor victim. When you finally glance at him, you almost freeze up. You just whammed yourself into the school’s best basketball player, Min Yoongi™.

Min Yoongi is one of the seven guys at the top of the High School tier class. Some fan club even started the name, “Bangtan Boys” to address the seven handsome guys. He’s an excellent pianist, a fantastic composer, a basketball star, and unmistakably a bad boy. Guys and girls swoon over him, but he’s given them all the the cold shoulder. You recalled a friend of yours who said that his glare was so piercing, you literally feel your body tense and freeze up. You also happen to remember that he had to sit out on the last basketball game because he sprained his ankle. Ouch.

You look back over your shoulder, and of course, Byeol was pretending not to know who you were. She picked up conversation with a nearby stranger, hoping that they didn’t see the cause of this destruction. You didn’t blame her though, no one wants to get on Yoongi’s bad side. You were sure your phone had a ton of messages from ECHO, even though you’ve put it on “Do Not Disturb.”

Your guilt sinks in and it weighs heavy on your shoulders at the thought of you being the reason he’s in pain. “..Are you alright? Here, let me take you to the nurse.” You help him up and wrap his arm around your shoulder. “You can lean on me, it’s okay.” On the inside, it was definitely not okay. He accepted your offer, but he hasn’t said a single word to you this whole time. The air was thick and the silence was fueling your uneasiness.

You check him into the nurse’s office and explain the incident. Good thing it’s your lunch period, or your teacher would’ve chewed you out for being late. You check ECHO while the lady logs Yoongi into the records.

[11:37pm] Woah!! Did that girl just slam into Min Yoongi? She’s got balls..

[11:37pm] Should I pretend I don’t know her? Y/n will forgive me, right?

[11:38pm] What the fuck was that??? Why am I on the floor? And in pain??

[11:45pm] ...now what am I going to do? Who is she?

The nurse lady sets him up on one of those bed thingies, and you take this opportunity to apologize again. “I’m so sorry Yoongi, I should’ve been paying attention. If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you, just let me know.” The desperation must’ve been obvious in your voice.

“...What’s your name?” Yoongi stares at you. His eyes don’t waver when you look at him in surprise. He stays unmoving, waiting for your answer.

“My name? Oh, uhm... it’s Y/n. L/n Y/n,” You were not expecting a response from him, since he seemed uninterested when you tried conversing earlier. Yoongi asking for someone’s name is considered to be something really honorable; people would pay anything to have him say that to them. But then again, they would also pay Yoongi to step on them...

“I have a request for you then, Y/n.” He lulls his head to the side, thinking his decision over. “I want you to...” He looks at you with a gaze that you just can’t shake. Your breath is caught in your throat at his stare. What is he going to say? “Be my substitute.”

“Like a substitute teacher? I’m sorry but--” You try to quickly intervene. Does he think you’re an old hag?? You didn’t think you looked that old.. or maybe he means something else? “Or did you mean a substitute as in like for your basketball game because I don’t even know how to play basketball I just--”

“No, calm your tits. I meant you’ll act as my replacement for school and go where I usually go. I need you to be my eyes and ears while I’m stuck here and at home.” He draws out a long sigh,” You just need to collect my assignments and give them to me everyday after school until I get better. If you can, fill me in on what that day was like. It’s not that hard to do, right?”

You let out a sigh of relief. Just then, you hear a knock at the door. Three boys shuffle into the clinic, giving a casual greeting to the nursing staff. Your eyes widen, how could you forget? Of course the other Bangtan Boys would come check up on him. Kim Taehyung, Park jimin, and Jung Hoseok smile to acknowledge you and turn their eyes to Yoongi.

“Are you alright?” Hoseok asks him. He’s bubbling with energy as he speaks. “We were wondering where you went. I almost had a heart attack when they said you were here!!” Hoseok grabs at his chest like he’s in more pain than Yoongi.

Jung Hoseok is known for his positive energy and “legendary” hip work. He’s a street dancer who knows everybody, and everybody knows him. He’s also in medical class for vets, and he does charities in his free time. He’s super sweet and will sometimes send flowers to the fan club.

“Are you still eating lunch with us?” Jimin pipes up. He’s leaning on the nursing bed as he drapes himself dramatically across Yoongi’s shoulders. He whines,”What will we do without you? Please tell me you’re eating with us today..”

Park Jimin is also a dancer, but he does contemporary work. When he dances, he’s graceful, like a mythical creature. He’s shy and shorter than the rest of the guys, which makes people want to dote on him. If he dances with Hoseok though, he flips like a coin. He’ll act like a playboy and tease his audience when given the chance.

“Yah, You know I can’t.” Yoongi gestures to his ankle, and his inability to move due to the immense pain. “The nurse said I should stay in here for at least an hour or two.”

You don’t know if you should leave or stay. You were about to excuse yourself because your conversation with Yoongi ended a while ago. You shouldn’t expect them to talk to you when they don’t know who you are or why you’re there. You pick up your bag and sling it over your shoulder.

Taehyung mentions you, stopping you from escaping so easily. “Who is that?” He points to you. Leave it to Taehyung to point out the elephant in the room...

He’s popular for his charming personality and ethereal looks. Taehyung is in agriculture, and he often helps Hoseok out with the animals. He plays the saxophone, which combined with theatre class, drives the fans nuts. Taehyung also seems to be super observant, and he will point out small details other people seem to miss. If he was doing a police report, he’d probably be able to tell you the exact time the incident happened and what colored crocs the perpetrator was wearing. 

As if Yoongi just remembered that you were still here, he makes another request.” Oh, as the new Yoongi, can you also keep an eye on these guys? They’ll cause chaos if I’m not there.” 

“New Yoongi?” Jimin looks incredulously at you. “What do you mean--”

Yoongi retorts,” She’s my stand in, my understudy, my alternative, my stunt double, ecetera. Need I say more?” His cold demeanor doesn’t hesitate with the response. He talks as if it was a natural request, but what part of this is natural?

"How would I...” You trail off. You find yourself stammering, unable to voice your concerns. All of the guys, attractive ones at that, were staring at you.”..How would I even do that?”

“Isn’t it obvious? For starters, we all have the same lunch period, so just eat lunch with them or something.” Yoongi shrugs his shoulders,” Do I need to plan everything out for you?”

You’re quick to object,” No!! I’m.. I’m fine. It’s okay.” It’s bad enough that he’s injured, so you shouldn’t worry Yoongi anymore.

Taehyung’s eyes light up. He speaks as if he had a eureka moment. “We have the same forensics class, don’t we? No wonder I recognized you..” You were really hoping he wouldn’t have remembered that. If people see you hanging around these guys, they’ll get the wrong idea. 

“Well I guess that settles it. I’ll sit next to you in class, and we can be partners for that new project he’s assigning.” He takes you by the hand. His touch was so sudden and warm that it takes you a minute to realize you’re in the cafeteria already. He looks down at you and smiles. “This is our spot.”

Only when you part from him to grab your bag that you realize he held your hand this entire time. You start to miss his warmth, but you shake out any of those thoughts from your head. What were you thinking? Your heart pounds in your chest, and your cheeks grow hot. You breathe out a shaky breath, trying to calm down. Anyone would feel this way if they were you. You go from being an average joe to suddenly sitting next the the Bangtan Boys? It’s almost like you’re in a fanfiction. You shouldn’t fall in love with one of them, that would be too cliché and very, very dangerous.

You finished settling down your things and find that Taehyung was still waiting for you. Hoseok already rushed to the pizza line, and Jimin was swarmed by girls who made him bento boxes. He smiles politely to them all, unsure of how to decline. His eyes glance at you like a plead for help, but a girl starts to scold him so he looks away.

“What did you want to eat? Noodles?” It was pretty loud in the cafeteria, so Taehyung walked closer. He leaned down and whispered in your ear. “..Or do you want to eat me?” His hot breath tickled your ear. It was a deep and husky voice, one that sent shivers down your spine.

Shocked at his words, you jumped back. “W..What?” You never thought Taehyung was so bold. You’ve heard of him being flirty, but this was cutting it close. It was like dirty talking, but you’ve barely met him!!

He tried to suppress his laugh as he looked at you. “I said: Or do you want to eat meat?” He raises an eyebrow at you. He knows you’re flustered, and feigns innocence. “There’s a rice with two meat deal today. What did you think I said?”

You could’ve sworn he said “me” and not “meat,” but maybe you were thinking into it too much. You decided which one you wanted and Taehyung walks to the line with you. Whilst waiting for your turn, you check ECHO.

It was what you expected. Many of them were like:

[12:03pm] Wtf??? Who is that girl?

[12:03pm] Is she their girlfriend? No-- it has to be a cousin, right? But she’s so plain looking...

[12:04pm] Why is she holding Kim Taehyung’s hand? Don’t tell me--

[12:05pm] Y/n?? What did that girl do now.. ((((゜д゜;))))

Oh yeah, you should probably tell Byeol that you kind of have to sit with Bangtan during lunch now. Good to know that everyone is gawking at you now, I guess. There are hundreds of messages screaming about “who is that girl!1!1!!!!” so you scroll past most of them. One however, catches your eye.

[12:10pm] She’s so cute lol

You don’t think ECHO has ever sent you a compliment like this before. Someone thinks you’re cute? The thought warms your heart. This is the first time you’ve had an admirer.

“Hey, what are you looking at on your phone?” Taehyung rips you to reality. “How do you have so many messages?” He starts to lean over your shoulder to get a glimpse.

Antsy, you turn off your phone and press your hand to his chest to give some distance. “It’s.. It’s my online friends! They wanted to play the new game with me.” 

He stands back up, no longer breathing on your neck. “Oh? The one that was released just last week? What was it called...” He ponders for a minute,” Animal Crossing?” 

You nod. Conversation starts from there, and you let out that breath you’ve been holding in. You both pay for your meals and head over to the table. You could see Hoseok stuffing his face with pizza and sprite while he scribbles down answers to a worksheet. Jimin is desperately trying to get him to eat some of the bento boxes, but all of his attempts were futile. 

“...So I know you’re the New Yoongi or whatever, but what’s your real name?” Hoseok asks you. “If you don’t know me already, I’m Jung Hoseok, but you can call me Hobi!” 

Jimin and Taehyung look at each other. You hadn’t even thought to introduce yourself earlier, how much more embarrassing can this day be? Quick, be cool!!

“I’m L/n Y/n, but just Y/n is fine.”

“You probably know us already, but you can call me Tae or any various nickname you can conjure up,” He laughs,” The more creative the better.”

Jimin nudges his shoulder,” Like Spoiled Yogurt Kid?” It’s hard for the smaller one to contain his laughter.

“It was one time!!” Taehyung playfully shoves him away, clearly embarrassed. “It’s not my fault my sleep paralysis demon told me to eat the 3 month old yogurt at like 2 am.” He grumbled,”Ugh, it’s not like I tell everyone about your weird impulses..”

You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. Hobi notices and adds fuel to the fire,”Yeah, get a load of this guy. He’s blaming all of his mistakes on his sleep paralysis demon. Poor demon, honestly.”

Jimin continues to mock Taehyung teasingly, getting him worked up.“You know what??” Taehyung growls as he whips his head around to face you. His soft brown hair falls over his eyes, and his jaw is clenched as he looks at you with an emotion you can’t quite read. His face is flushed, but he tilts his head up in a cool manner. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was serving up some bedroom eyes. 

He runs his fingers through his hair and speaks with a voice that oozes sex appeal without meaning to,“If you don’t know what to call me, just say Oppa.” Taehyung’s eyes widen as if he realized what came out of his mouth. He covers his lips with the palm of his hand and instinctively looked at how you’d react.

 It was your turn to flush from embarrassment. Before your brain could process what just happened, the words croak out,”..o..okay?” 

Hobi is choking on his sprite,”Damn, what the--” He continues to try and suppress his coughs,” Who the hell taught you that? Namjoon? Jin?” Hoseok shakes his head in disappointment. You thought it was because he ruined his drink, but then he said,” Ah, I told them to stop doing stuff like that.. If Yoongi were here he probably wouldn’t even know how to scold you.”

Jimin’s mouth is agape in shock. He suddenly doubles over the table, unable to contain the fit of laughter inside of him. “Wha- that was so smooth!” He’s holding onto his stomach for dear life, and his shoulders shake up and down. He gives suggestive eyebrows to Taehyung, whose ears are scorching red. “I didn’t know Taehyung was such a player.”

Taehyung is trying to hide himself with the sleeves of his hoodie. He’s silent at first, but eventually he speaks barely above a whisper. “...I don’t know what came over me..” His words tremble and tread lighter than a feather so scared it might step on another bomb.

"Was it your sleep paralysis demon?” You make a witty remark despite the blush dusted across your face. 

Tae sinks farther into his chair,” Oh my god...” He can’t help but laugh a little at your joke. “..Please forget about what I said today.” 

Jimin’s laughter dies down as he looks at you. His smile is soft and reassuring. “Don’t worry, Y/n. He’s usually not like this. I swear, we’re all gentlemen.” The bell suddenly rings, signaling that lunch was over. Jimin starts to clean up his spot, stuffing the unfinished bentos into his bag for later. “Ah, Taehyung, you’re saved by the bell this time, but next time you have got to show me some moves.” He winks before leaving for his next class.

Hoseok waves to you and Taehyung,” I’d walk with you two if I could, but my next class is across campus. I gotta dash, but good luck with Forensics!”

You’d almost forgotten about Forensics with Taehyung. Unfortunately, Tae seems to stay unmoving from his spot. You would be like that too if you were him, but you really can’t be late for class. It’s better if you approach him now rather than later, so it’s not as awkward during class. 

“Hey...” You start out. He doesn’t respond as his head is till buried in his arms. You hesitate at first, but you put your hand on his shoulder. “...Taehyung Oppa?” 

Immediately he shoots up, his eyes are wide and he’s as stiff as a board. He brushes your hand softly away and grabs his bag. He avoids your gaze as he packs up, but he returned his gaze when you started walking in the hallway. His eye’s remain forward, but he speaks to you,“...I didn’t think you’d actually call me that.” He chuckles. 

“Oppa?”

He rubs his hand across his face and he licks his lips,” Yeah, that.” He sneaks a glance at you, but since you were already looking at him, he turns his face away. 

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-A/N-

oof it’s been AGES since my last bts fic. If y’all are following me bc of my text au, I’m going to try and update that soon too! I... did not expect to have such a flirtatious Taehyung,, but honestly I’m kinda into it. (  ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

[partyinthemysterymachine]

The Wendy’s Secret Menu

Cheryl isn’t very ladylike. She slouches on the other side of the old, sunken-in leather bench seat: an original part of the blue, vintage pickup truck. The dashboard is scuffed and dirty where she’s put her mismatched, socked feet (one cartoon zombies, the other made to look like a shark is devouring her leg - gifts from dad). Her happily wobbling knees are so close to her face that they could knock the sweating cup of chocolate frosty right out of her hand if she doesn’t pay enough attention.

And so what? It’s not like it hasn’t happened before, like, so many times.

She’s a Mason, and as a Mason, she has an uncanny knack for tempting fate and patience. So to the beat of the music she rocks her body to and fro, making the bench seat squeak and the truck bounce a second off rhythm. The music is what she and her dad both enjoy (for the most part; he’s come around to some of these songs), though it always looks like she loves it way more than he does. That’s fine by her; she can muster enough enthusiasm for stadium full of stoic duds. As the song reaches the second chorus, she scoops a dripping helping of melting soft serve and soggy, splitting french fries - her favorite.

Cheryl’s hand-eye coordination took an unauthorized smoke break. Her feet hit the floor as she immediately sits up, trying to wipe the mess off an undershot bite from her face.

“Aw, fuck!” she whines, dejectedly accepting a wad of too-thin napkins to sponge her mouth. Dabbing her t-shirt proclaiming that she made it out of the corn maze at the Vermont State Faire back in 2016 was an honorable effort, but was no match for shitty fast food napkins. This was a job for the washing machine. This thing is a prize well earned! A future family heirloom!  “Noo, come ooonnnnn.. get ouuuuut! UGH! My life is such a fucking mess,” she complains at her chest to the sound of soft chuckling.

“Do you eat, or just read about it?” Cheryl throws the speaker a glare. “Heh, I was waiting for that,” a young man’s (not very young anymore; much younger than his husband, much older than his daughter, and there are lines where there weren’t even five years ago) voice tells her. She exudes maturity as she mockingly wiggles her head and parrots him under her breath.

“Okay, well, excuse me, prophet,” she says, shoving the used napkins into the paper bag between them. “What, you couldn’t warn me?”

“Mmm.. nope. Then you wouldn’t have been taught a lesson,” James replies, stirring the mash of chocolate and potato in his own cup. “I thought I raised you on how to learn from your mistakes.”

“Yeah, well clearly—“

“Clearly you haven’t learned a thing,” he interrupts, smirking into the dessert somewhat haughtily, “because if you’re gonna be good at anything, sweetheart, making mistakes is what’s gonna make you the most successful.”

“Okay, but whose fault is that?” The unruly teenager scrunches her nose right into James’s ear as she noisily plunges her hand into a second, grease-spotted bag and spends way too much effort grabbing for cooling fries. “Huh? Whose fault is that, James? Huh? Huh? Huh, dad?”

One of the joys of this world is that even after ten years, James gets a dumb little smile when she calls him ‘dad.’ She used to call him daddy; she used to call them both daddy. Modern times call for modern changes, so she has a wealth of synonyms to use for addressing her parents, but nothing hits quite like ‘dad’.

Just so he doesn’t get any ideas about her being soft, she blows a puff of air at his cheek and plops back into her sunken spot. Cheryl releases the handful of salty french fries into her traitorous frosty cup to the sound of her dad’s soft laughter. She picks up any stragglers dropped on her chest and munches on them while she beats the fries down in the dessert with the black, plastic spoon like a milkmaid churning butter. Noisily sucking the salt from her fingertips, she can feel the blond man’s eyes on her.

(Sun-kissed, spun from an angel’s golden halo, sunshine wheat field - that’s how her daddy describes James’s hair; yet within the past couple years, silver threads have come to lay amongst the golden. They look nice, and they make her think about things she already stresses too much about.)

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Cheryl sasses, looking at him sidelong and stuffing her face with savory and sweet. James’s eyes go soft, but the trouble remains on the smirk spread on his lips.

“No way. You broke my camera last time.”

“It’s not my fault technology can’t handle a visage so holy and unattainable to mortal men,” she cockily replies. Then, there’s a prolonged, dramatic sigh. “Ohhh, whatever, dad. Maybe we just go back to the old days and get paintings done of us. Yeah, let’s do that. Let’s spend thousands of dollars and wait two years for someone to paint us a family portrai..”

Cheryl whips her head to James. He raises his eyebrows back at her; his smirk has been traded for a smile warm and loving. “Dad,” she starts urgently, “we have to get a huge oil painting of us done. We have to. This is serious, I’m so serious right now. I’m not even joking a little.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Uh, hello?” She regards her father (who smells of grease and turpentine, metal, smoke (smells that would make most people nauseous, but not she) and a little bit like Harry (who falls asleep with his face pressed to James’s neck)) like he’s the idiot he is. “Prestige? Fame? Our souls getting caught in it and being passed around as a super haunted painting and we can go around fucking up people’s houses and rearranging their furniture together for the rest of our lives? So we can look like totally rich assholes? Because our egos are as big as my dick?”

James squints at her then. “Mmm. I think our egos are bigger than that. You had me at ‘haunted painting,’ but lost me at the end, there.”

“Pft, okay, didn’t realize we had an ego-dick connoisseur here.”

“Your dad taught me some th—“

“Oh, no!” she cuts off, shoving her fist and extended index finger into his face. “No! Nnno. Nuh uh, I’m not gonna hear about—“

“—ngS ABOUT EGO,” the mechanic continues, matching the volume of Cheryl’s chant trying to drown him out. “Because I’m pretty sure his ego would be big enough to get a painting doaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAA—“

Now they’re just holding out one tuneless vowel together, a battle of wills and lung capacity (may the best set win). The Masons are a stubborn people and stubbornness makes the voices crackle and strain as their organ balloons deflate to uselessness. Cheryl flings her head back to face the ceiling, pulls in a ridiculously showy breath, and picks up from where she left off, her energy restored.

It’s hard to warble when another person is doing the same right up in one’s cookies. She starts to laugh with James so close and monotone-yelling at her, but she has an image to uphold. Retaliation comes in first pushing his shoulder, then shoving her palm right against his nose to keep him back while she performs her dominating solo for the truck and all its machinery.

“EW!” Cheryl jumps back into the corner of the door, revulsion pinpointed at her hand. She frantically scrubs her palm on her jeans, whining pathetically. “Daaa-aaaaaddddd, groooossss! Eww, don’t lick me!”

“Don’t put your hand in my face,” he retorts. His daughter huffs and shoves her feet into the side of James’s thigh, making herself comfortable across the old leather, and thus a much easier way to harass her father.

“Well, don’t talk about gross stuff.”

“I wasn’t talking about gross stuff. I was talking about Harry’s ego.”

“Yeee-AH!” Cheryl stresses. “That’s what I said: I said, don’t talk about gross stuff! GOD,” she laments, giving her almost entirely melted stew a sarcastic, wide-eyed stare. “Nyeeheh, I’m James, I like to talk about gross stuff because I think It’s funny to torture—“

“I think we should seriously talk about getting that painting done,” says the owner of this beaten down and beloved blue truck. “We’ll get it as big as a mortgage allows. We’ll have nowhere to put it and it’s going to be the start of our financial ruin.”

Pursing her lips, Cheryl glances up at him and the beginnings of such a captivating pitch. “Hmm.. go on..”

Three pats on the tops of her feet make her smile. “We’ll get it started before you go off to college, and when you visit, we can get more done.” Green eyes glance at her. “Every time we go to sit for it, we’ve changed a little bit each time.”

Slowly, the plastic spoon scrapes the sides of an empty cup and scratch contemplatively at remnants that aren’t truly there. “Hmm.. I like the sound of that. So that it takes a long time to be painted, and as we change, the artist has to alter us more and more.. never truly finishing the painting.. which means we might never even have it, but..”

“But since it took so long, we’ve been in that painting as different people for years,” James explains. “And it’s sat untouched for so much time, too. And what if one of us dies before—“

“Which you won’t.”

“—it’s anywhere near done; then it means that that one is still alive, as they were, in the painting. You could even say that’s the first haunting.”

Their eyes meet.

Ten years ago, Cheryl Mason was seven. She spotted a sad-looking blue pickup truck in the driveway one morning and her daddy lied to her that a neighbor was parking it there for a short spell. None of their neighbors had a car like that, and he knew that she knew.

Maybe a handful of days later, she met the man who owned that truck. Daddy told her he was dating a man, and it was important that they liked each other. She thought he looked young, and he looked at her like she could devour him alive. The first night was test, and this guy passed with flying colors.

The second month was a test, too. So was him dropping her off at school for the first time, and picking her up; when the school stopped him after the fifth drop off/pick up to ask who he was and what he was doing with Harry Mason’s daughter, and oh, the delicate mess to clean up there; when a lady at the park shouted at her son to stop playing with her, and made her cry because she didn’t understand why that lady was yelling at her parents - they were doing nothing wrong! - and James took her into his lap, cradling her, and calmed her down (and she found he smelled of turpentine, grease, metal, smoke, and oil, and a little bit like her daddy); playing Katamari Damacy on a Sunday morning after she begged him to get out of bed and come play, and he did, sleepily, but soon woke up and was laughing with her; and

Toluca Lake.

the time she disobeyed her fathers (officially, legally three Masons in this family; officially, legally two men to raise her) and ate all her Halloween candy in one night to prove a point - the point being that they were right, and James sat with her while Harry started the wash; taking her to a play; to her activities; trips to

Silent Hill.

faires and parks; her dads didn’t (don’t) like hospitals or clinics, but she didn’t even know until she was thirteen because they hid it for her all these years; let her scream and cry at him because he knew, even better than Harry, how to handle her pain, and so held her while she sobbed herself exhausted, since James never truly needed words to speak; the pride in his eyes; the love he had; how he defended her (and scared her, really) against a boy who didn’t understand ��no’ (but she was glad it was him, because she was even more scared of what daddy could have done, for the way his face changed when he heard..); taught her how to drive; hung out in comfortable silence, and all through the ten years, ten years of absconding to Wendy’s behind Harry’s back to eat fries in a chocolate frosty.

Cheryl gently kicks him three times. (“Three squeezes, or taps, or whatever,” Harry told her. “It’s an easy way to say ‘I love you’ whenever you want to.” So she drummed her palms three times on his aging face, and beamed so bright when he laughed.) “You might have something there. Dark, though.”

James glances down, then at her. “Isn’t it supposed to be?”

“Yeah, duh.” She drops the bare cup into the bag. “I like it. Good lead up. Good lore. Not bad, pops.”

Cheryl smiles at that smile.

“Thanks, Cher.”

A new song begins on the gritty little cassette mixtape that the sole Mason heir painstakingly (while grousing at her middle-aged father about how dumb and time consuming this ancient ritual of appreciation is) strung together. For being a mechanic, James’s radio could really use some good ol’ fashioned TLC - and if he dared to do even think about fixing it up, Cheryl would have an honest-to-god fit. Nothing would sound right; all the old memories and those in the process of making would feel different. James’s radio sucks, and she knew all three of them wouldn’t have it any other way.

Her foot keeps rhythm on his thigh and his fingers match it on the windowsill. This is a bittersweet song. It promises eternity. Cheryl felt a little odd putting this on the playlist, but she couldn’t leave it off. (“It reminds me of you and dad,” she justified. “You’ll get what I mean.”) When she hears it, she gets that happy-sad feeling that everyone in the world seems to have had at least once in their life. A small, apologetic but loving smile indents her cheeks at the sight of James disappearing into thought. He’s probably thinking about an angel.

She used to roll her eyes at it, but on hot summer nights, she’s outside in the dark, looking for an orange firefly in the grass.

When they get home, Cheryl lingers in the foyer. They have a beautiful home. The three of them picked this one out, and it was the second one they were shown. Natural light pours in through a spacious, open-air floor plan. A skylight overhead illuminates, draws colors out to their raw excellence, bathes their comings and goings in halos from the sun and moon. Cheryl can hear the author hard at work at the piano instead of his computer from the living room quiet, and in the kitchen, the mechanic’s radio softly playing a hazy tune while he’s elbow deep in his truck’s guts.

From the second floor balcony, when she can’t sleep and sees the flickering glow from the muted TV, she can stop and listen to Harry make James laugh, though she can barely hear what he says. Once she woke up in the middle of the night and decided she wanted to polish off those leftovers, but never made it to the foot of the stairs. She hid behind the railing, peeking through the carved wood at a sight that instantly welled her eyes with tears.

Watching the two men lazily slow dancing together like a couple at prom, Harry’s arms around James’s shoulders, James grasping his back and their foreheads touching, and the sing-talk style the patriarch was known for asking his husband about sins and love, Cheryl realized she saw an angel and a firefly.

She’d cried so hard into her pillow.

She watches her adoptive father - the second one to adopt her, much younger than the first, whose green eyes inspired so many pieces of their home decor - hang the keys on the kitchen wall, then begin to backtrack to head into the living room. He pauses, a light, questioning frown creasing his dark brows. “Hey, kiddo. You okay?”

Her hesitation only intensifies his worry. James approach, his face falls as his daughter buries her face in his chest and clutches him tight. His arms are lean, but they’re strong and warm around her, and his gnarled hand gentle in her hair. With him she sways, the pressure of a kiss atop her head, and then the weight of his head when he sets his cheek over that kiss.

James is the quiet parent. He doesn’t talk a lot. Verbal communication is not one of his strong suits, even after.. well.. she can’t remember what that was, exactly. So rather, the better way to swing it is: even after all this time, verbal communication isn’t one of his strong suits. But James says a lot when he has his arms around her. It’s really wonderful to hear his voice out loud, but there’s nothing like the way she hears him talk in the best way he knows.

Cheryl locks her arms around James Mason. He smells of turpentine, grease, metal, smoke and oil, and the man he married. She squeezes him harder, and his arms clasp her tighter. He rubs her back, and she finally lifts her head and looks up at man whose features are beginning to age. There’s a smile for her, and so she gives him one, too.

Today is probably one of her favorite holidays out of the year. At breakfast she announced that for the tenth year in a row, upon their honored, Hallmark-dependent day, their gift is: her. Cheryl basked in the golf claps and lavish praise from both of them. Oh, they were so grateful; yes, she knows. They need nothing else, she’s the greatest gift they could ever receive (though a Starbucks gift card wouldn’t go amiss); yes, she knows (no, dad, you’re getting Dunkin’ Donuts and you’re gonna like it). It’s all tradition at this point. The breakfast shenanigans is tradition, and how they spend the day is tradition.

For some reason, their tradition has felt more meaningful the past few years.

She smiles wider. James does too, and even chuckles softly and musses up her hair. He leaves another kiss on her forehead, and before he gets ideas about letting her go, Cheryl says, “Happy Father’s Day. You’re pretty okay. Sometimes I like you more than the other guy.”

James lights up the foyer with his laughter. Cheryl grins up at him, treasuring that look he gets that will never, ever get old. Take a picture, it’ll last longer. Cli-click.

When he’s looking at her again, the mirth still creasing his eyes, his daughter hugs him tighter. “I love you, dad.”

James Mason, formerly Sunderland, dips his head to this precious girl’s shoulder and hugs her so tight (his little girl, their little girl; she cried when they married at the courthouse, she hates her vegetables, likes to play word ping-pong, trusted him with secrets that Harry still doesn’t know, calls him dad, trusted him, trusts him, trusted him, trusts him - loved him, loves him - proclaims she’s the greatest gift they’ll ever receive and she’s goddamn right every single year.  

“I love you too, Cher.”

“I’m really glad you and dad got married.” He squeezes her tighter; his head presses harder into her shoulder. “You’re the best thing to happen to us.”

Her father is made of amber and stars, so Harry says; they’ve been wandering the earth forever looking for each other, and Harry held him once on a summer night in a jar, in his hands, and then he let him go. He was meant to be with them, Harry told her, and there’s a perpetual sadness in those lake green eyes but don’t worry: he loves us. He doesn’t always say it traditionally, the older man had said softly. So listen to him, because by god, Cheryl - he needs to be heard, and we’ll listen.

Cheryl’s smile trembles with incoming tears, and she closes her eyes and holds her father close. He doesn’t utter a sound, and she can hear everything he’s saying, loud and clear. He squeezes her one - two - three. She laughs weakly and locks her arms around his back. One - two - three.

She hopes James can listen, and hear her, too, but in case he missed it, she’ll say it as many times, and as many ways, as she can:

“We love you too, James.”

One.

Two.

Three.

[alwaysaslutforbakugang]

Hey so I love the baku squad reacting to their curvy s/o. I was wondering if you could do them trying to reassure their flat, twig like s/o who is very self-conscious. Thank you!!!!

Summary: Bakuboys reassuring their skinny S/O who is also self conscious.

Warning: Lotta fluff. tiny bit of blood in the last one (sorry!), and lazy writing (again, sorry)

Word Count: 4493

Pairings: Bakusquad boys x reader

Author’s note: Thank you so much for being my first request! This makes me sooooo happy that you like my work, and I hope that I can keep making more work that you’ll enjoy. Also sorry for the lazy writing at the end, I started getting tired ( ಠ◡ಠ ) But yea, I hope you enjoy xoxo

Bakugou:

You always knew you weren’t all that gifted in the curve department, even when you started developing you didn’t really see much change. It was infuriating seeing all your peers grow and transform into well figured women while you still had the body of a twelve year old. You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a huge insecurity of yours.

But regardless of your body, you have found yourself in a loving relationship. With UA’s very own Bakugou Katsuki even. Despite what people thought of him, he was really sweet, he loved cuddling and holding hands. He was also very chivalrous, holding doors open for you and pushing your seat in. He made you feel good, feel wanted, beautiful even. It was all going great.

That is, until she showed up… Uraraka Ochako

Uraraka was a sweet girl, never too loud or too rude. Always smiling, always so motivating. She knew you and Bakugou were a thing, she’s too nice to try and ruin that… . right?

It had started when they started working out, sparring every other day and weights every Tuesdays. You would call to hang out and have a little movie date night in his dorm only for him to decline because he was in the gym, with her.

They would study together. They would be holed up in the school’s library for hours on end. Then when he would come back he would tell you that he was tired and that you guys can hang out later. 

Later never came.

What did come, though, was an assortment of insecurities. She was so happy and giggly, you weren’t. She’s strong and lifted weights, your quirk was more of a defense so you didn’t really have to be all that strong. And she was shaped to the gods, while you…well, you weren’t.

So here you stand, staring at your underwear clad body in the mirror. Your eyes are puffy and red, swollen from the tears that had fallen only mere moments ago. Your eyes scan your body in hate.‘This wouldn’t have happened if you looked better.’ You smooth your hands over your hips and feel bone, you cringe. You cup your breast and are disappointed at how they barely fill your hands. ‘What did he ever see in me?” You silently cry, staring back into your reflection.‘I hate you, I Hate You, I Fucking Ha-”

Knock Knock Knock.

Panicked, you clear the cry from your throat before shouting who is it, and turn mortified when Bakugou rudely responds back. “It’s me shithead. Hurry up, I got shit in my hands.” You rush to toss on pajamas and wipe your face before hurrying to the door. You open and find Bakugou with blankets draped over his shoulders. Pillows, snacks and those face masks you knew he liked to use held tightly in his arms. He had been dressed in his pajamas too. He pushes pass you and drops everything onto your bed. When you give him a confused look, he averts his gaze to anything but your face, scratching at his ear. “I know we ain’t been able to hang much this month, so I thought a little home date or some shit would make up for it.” When he looks back at you, he hadn’t expect you to begin crying.

Then you told him, you told him everything. You told him about how much you’ve missed him, about how much your body bothered you, about how much you envied Uraraka for her body and his attention for her. The more you spoke the more pissed Bakugou seem to get. When you finished, you sniffle as he pulls you close into his chest. What he says next catches you off guard.

“Fuck Uraraka! She doesn’t come close to you,” He lifts your chin so that your looking into those red eyes. “I don’t give a shit about you having curves or not, you’re the most beautifulest person I have ever fucking met. Skinny or curvy, I would still love you the damn same. Do you fucking understand me? Now sit the fuck down so we can watch this stupid ass movie.”

The night is spent with you in Bakugou’s lap, cuddled up under blankets while he presses kisses to your temple and give you quiet compliments. 

Sero:

You and Sero have been dating for a year now, and you both seem to be really happy together. His smile becomes a lot more wider when your around, and you laugh 10x more when he’s with you. You thought that the two of you were just meant for each other, you both had so much in common. You both were funny, you both were social people, and you both were, well, skinny.

People knew you both to be a couple and found it rather funny that you both had ended up dating another skinny person. Your friends, finding it hilarious, have taken upon themselves to name you guys the Skinny Squad. It had been funny at first, you laughing along with your friends at one point but the more they used it the more it seemed to feed your insecurity. But you kept it to yourself, because Sero didn’t seem to mind the name. 

But as your insecurity seemed to flourish, you started noticing things. Like how people stare at your body in disapproval, or how people whisper when you enter a room, or seeing how close Sero and Mina really are. Mina was a great person, a bit eccentric but otherwise bubbly and lovable ‘I’m not like that.’

 Sero also seemed to notice, they were best friends after all. Close best friends. So close that she’ll occasionally hang off of him when they hug, or he’ll side with her when the group has a dispute. Her body was able to put yours to shame too. She didn’t have much breast, but everything from the waist down was blessed. It would get to you whenever you would see them hang out. You couldn’t stop yourself from thinking that maybe…

maybe he liked Mina better?

Its been about a week and a half since you started avoiding Sero. Whenever he would try to sit with you in class, you would move. If he saw you in the halls, you would go in the opposite direction. When he would call your phone, you would ignore it. And when he would knock on your door, you simply would not answer and remain as quiet as possible. You loved Sero, with your whole heart, but you needed space to think over your feelings toward yourself. Besides he deserved better than a girlfriend who might not even love herself. 

The following week had been just like the previous, quiet and filled with self loathing. Lunch was no better, you used to sit with Sero and the gang but you couldn’t bring yourself to sit with them. Not today, not right now. As you make your way to your seat, you pass a look over your shoulder in Sero’s direction. You lock eyes. He was looking at you, the entire time he’s been looking at you. You see him physically perk up, and assumes he takes the eye contact as a sign as rises from his seat. The panic in you jolts and you decide to leave. As you turn on your heel, you smack into the back of the person in front of you.  

The panic only intensifies when the icy blue eyes of Monoma turn to glare at you. You begin apologizing, trying to scrape the soba noodles off of his blazer, only for him to move from you hand.

“Really, you small minded 1-A dolts need to watch where you’re going.” He swipes at his blazer, but the soba has already stained. He turns his stare at you and you shrink under that stoic look.“How about you go and do something useful, like, I don’t know, lift some weights. Heavens knows you need the extra muscle Scrawny.” He shoves you out the way forcing you to stumble into the wall. You watch as he steps off, but he didn’t get that far.

Monoma had hit the ground, face first. People around you had gathered, whispering amongst themselves and pointing at you, as if you done the assault. ‘Wait, who did do it?’

Wrapped around his ankle, the thick strip of tape had unraveled and snapped back into the elbow of Sero Hanta himself. His smile was dropped and in its place was a menacing grimace. His eyes were trained on Monoma’s fallen figure. He momentarily tosses you a reassuring glace before stepping towards your assailant.

“Apologize, Monoma. Now.” The demand behind it was frightening and made you shiver. Monoma had picked himself up off the floor and began his verbal assault on Sero. Unfortunately, it didn’t remain verbal. 

Sero, along with Monoma (and the Bakusquad who had jumped in), had been suspended for four days for using their quirks unauthorized in the dining hall. You felt bad, you never wanted this to go this far, and all because you couldn’t get over the fact that you didn’t like yourself. You practiced your apology as you made your way to his room, a tin of cookies tucked under your arm as a bonus apology gift. When you make it to his door, you freeze.

‘What if he doesn’t want to see me? What if he hates me after I’ve been ignoring him? What if-’ Your thoughts are cut short when he opens the door, he stands over you easily and you find it to be all too intimidating all of sudden.

“Hey.” His voice sounds surprised and you can see that he is trying his best to remain ‘cool’. He’s just as excited to see you as you are to see him. You allow yourself to exhale a laugh through your nose before nudging him into his room.

“Hi.”

You had spent the time talking, catching up on the weeks you had been avoiding him, all while devouring cookies. When he asks for the reason why, you hesitate but ultimately spill everything to him. When you finish you find that he is smiling and holding back laughter. He apologizes in between chuckles

“‘m sorry, it’s just, Mina’s gay, Baby.” Your face makes him laugh again and when it dies down, he pulls you close and rests his chin on your head.

“I love you. But I understand where you’re coming from. It gets really hard thinking you’ll still want to be with someone as skinny as me when there’s plenty of muscular guys like Kirishima and Bakugou around. But if it means anything to you, I think you look phenomenal the way you are. So…?” He holds his open hand towards you. “Skinny Squad?”

You smile, the name no longer leaving you feeling less of yourself as you slide your palm into his own.

“Yea, Skinny Squad.”

Kaminari:

There comes a time in every relationship when both participants in said relationship must meet the other’s parents. When you had met Kaminari’s parents they were very sweet and openly welcoming with you. You also found it hilariously funny how Kaminari was a perfect copy of his mother. Bright yellow eyes, electric blonde hair, and creamy colored skin. Hell, they both even had an electric quirk. Whenever you would bring it up, he would always groan but he’ll joke about it with you. It was nice knowing that they liked you, it made everything a little bit more relaxing. However, Kaminari has yet to meet your parents.

 You weren’t embarrassed of your parents, far from it. Your mom was a normal stay at home wife while your dad was an accountant. You loved them both dearly, it’s just…

Your parents were shaped as if they were made by Donatello himself. Your father, despite his accounting job, was in peak shape with his muscular body and agility. Your mother was the opposite of you; her breasts large and round, her hips full and wide. She was gorgeous, and that’s made you nervous for Denki to meet her. Maybe he’ll start to wonder why you don’t look like your mom.

 Whenever Kamnari would ask about meeting your folks, you would always try to avoid the question or change the subject entirely. The questions didn’t end in UA either. Whenever you would visit home on the weekends, your parents would damn near drown you in questions about the boy who stole their daughter’s heart. It was starting to get a little stressful.

One day, Kaminari had randomly decided that some fresh air would do you both some good so you pack a lunch and make your way to the neighborhood park. He had remained quiet through the walk over, occasionally tossing looks over his shoulders. When you caught onto his suspicious behavior you demanded he come clean. After a bit of hesitance, he admits to texting your mom through your phone and setting up a little meetup. 

You could hear your heartbeat in your ears on the account on how quiet things had gotten. When you voice that you want to leave he politely declines.

“Love, they’re your parents. What, you think I’m gonna flirt with your mom or something”

‘Yes.’ 

You try again to persuade him but to no avail, he won’t budge. You can feel a panic attack building in your chest.

‘He’s going to figure it out. He’s gonna leave you because you don’t look like her. All because you aren’t pretty like her. Because you aren’t he-’

“(Y/N)! Oh my gosh, is this the Kaminari we heard so much about?”

You spend the time in the park silently sulking as your parents and boyfriend shoot the breeze. Occasionally you would look up to find Kaminari watching your mom talk, she was always so animated when she would go on one of her tangents. The envy you held for your own mother made you feel sick. It wasn’t right, but it was ever present and growing. You wished you were built like her, to have her thighs and hips, to be blessed with her bust. But alas, you weren’t. Her and her pear shaped curves lean closer into her husband and you grimace at how lovingly your father accepts her affection. 

You hadn’t noticed that you had tuned out the conversation entirely till the word handsome falls from your mother’s lips. Your head whips in Kaminari’s direction and the budding blush on his cheeks twist your heart.

“Thank you (Y/L//N)-san,” He scratches his head, averting his eyes in embarrassment from the woman. “That means a lot coming from someone so pretty.” 

That did it. You knew this would happen. Abruptly you stand, catching everyone’s attention. Your family speak their concerns while Kaminari gently grabs a hold of your hand. “You alright there, Love?”

You slide your hand from his grasp and start your walk to the dorms, telling your parents you’ll text them later before leaving. When you are out of sight, you break into a run.

‘You’ll never be like her. He thinks she’s gorgeous, you’ll never match her looks, you fucking stick.’

The thoughts got more self deprecating till you reach the door of your dorm. Once inside you let the tears flow freely, throwing your body onto your bed gracelessly. But you didn’t care, you wanted to sleep it off, wanted to forget. 

When you woke, the neon red from your clock read 3:23am. You rise with a groan, the throbbing in your head pulsing hard behind your eyes. Your throat is scratchy and dry and you could bet money that if you looked in the mirror you would see swollen eyes. You stand to go use the bathroom when your phone chimes, brightly lighting up your room. You pick it up and squint enough through the light to read Denki’s name along with the 14 missed calls and 23 missed texts. The last one your phone receives is him begging you to pick up. 

You feel a twinge in your chest, he didn’t deserve this, to be ignored when he didn’t know what he did. The springs in your bed squeak under your weight as you sit, phone in hand with your thumb hovering over the call button. 

Another hour passes when you finally will yourself to press it, you feel your breath catch in your throat when the tone dial sounds. Why were you so nervous? When you hear a tired ‘Hello?’ from his end, you choke out a silent ‘hi’ before feeling the hot tears spill over again. Now fully awake, Kaminari demands you tell him where you are. After choking out that you were in your dorm, Kaminari makes it over in little time. You open the door to him heavy breathing.

Had he ran?

Before you could ask, his arms swallow you up, slamming you into his chest hard. He tells you how worried he was and how worried your parents were as he stroked your hair. You allow his hug to hold you up as you breath in his scent deeply. He walks you over to the bed and lifts you into his lap. You try not to grimace at how easy it was for him to lift you. He places his hand on your face, tracing a thumb across your cheek as he looks you in the eyes. 

He tells you how he had to reassure your parents that you were okay and just needed some time, and that he had gone looking for you thinking that you might’ve ran off somewhere. Upon hearing this you let out a sniffle, but he quickly quiets you with a kiss. You feel guilty so you tell him of your insecurities. He quietly listens as you go into your history of envying your mother for her body, and when your done he presses another kiss to your lips.

“Love, your mom is pretty, but your fucking gorgeous. Like, how could you think I would flirt with my girl’s mom, that’s so weird,” He laughs, but continues. “You’re all I want y’know. You don’t have to be like your mom for me to love you, you’re so perfect. So amazing.” 

Kirishima:

To date someone like Kirishima, people would think that you work out just as much as the red head, spending countless hours in the gym pumping iron and getting muscle. 

How wrong those people are.

You weren’t in the Hero Course but in the Support Department, making utilities and fixing up the hero kids gadgets. That’s how you and Kirishima met, because he broke his mask and needed a replacement. When you gave it back to him, you told him that if he broke it again you would break his legs. Not even a week later he came back to you begging you to make another.

He stuck around you as you build things and romance seemed to bloom. He liked you for your assertiveness and bluntness while you found him motivating and inspiring. You both were happy.

So why were you in the gym, on a treadmill, essentially not happy? Well, you had noticed that since your boyfriend was apart of a successful rescue mission last week, Kirishima had been getting a lot of attention.

 A lot of female attention.

 It bugged you to no end, girls coming up to him with confession letters, some even bold enough to do it while you were with him. Although it did bother you, you couldn’t help but notice Kirishima liking the attention. He would blush before politely turning the poor girl down, or try to be nice by saying things like If only I didn’t have a girlfriend to try and soften his rejection. You soon found yourself wanting to keep his attention, and the best way for that? 

Get a Banging Body™

Now you had never really dealt with your body insecurities You were a lot skinnier than the girls hitting on your boyfriend, a lot flatter in some areas too. You would usually throw yourself into your work whenever you were feeling inadequate, and you worked a lot. However, you knew that being cooped up in a classroom wasn’t gonna stop those girls from talking to him. So you would be willing to thicken up, for him.

So now you tiredly ran on the treadmill, your legs feel numb and jelly-like all at once. You were going to call it quits when the gym door open and in walks your muscular boyfriend. Followed by a throng of gaggling girls. A fire lights in your belly as you see one girl grab Kirishima’s towel from around his neck and playfully drape it onto her shoulders. 

Fortunately, all flirting with YOUR boyfriend ceases when his eyes sparkle upon seeing you. He pushes his way through the shield of girls to take up the treadmill next to yours. He begins flawlessly, skipping the walking bit in the beginning to break out into a full on sprint. He smiles your way. “Since when did you start working out Babe? We could’ve done it together.”

His sharp tooth smile makes you wanna smile back, but you hold up your tired glare for the x chromosome wielding hussies watching the two of you run. You watch as he picks up the pace, having not broken a sweat yet.

 You would be colored impressed if you weren’t colored green with envy as one of his groupies hops onto the machine next to him, matching his speed easily. You watched her breasts bounce with each stride, her thick thighs jiggle in little waves while her hips seem to sway even in a run. She was gorgeous and she was eyeing Kirishima. 

You silently prayed that he hadn’t noticed her, hadn’t seen her plentiful body. But alas, as you glance up at him you notice his eyes innocently once her over. You felt betrayed, angry and hurt all at once, so much so that you hadn’t noticed that you stopped running and in turn had been thrown off of the treadmill. You hit the floor and bundle into yourself.

‘Fuck…’

You try to ignore the snickering coming from his entourage rise and sit on your knees. You battle the tears to stay in your eyes when you see Kirishima offer his hand, concern on his face. Instead you smack it away as you train your harsh eyes his way. You stand full and swallow back the embarrassment.

“Fuck you Eijirou.”

You storm out and fume angrily all the way back towards your dorm. ‘This is all his fault.’

You sat on your floor, screws and trinkets littering your carpet. You couldn’t shake the insecurity in your chest so you thought that making something would help. It usually did and you would even forget about what you were so insecure about. But today it seemed to not be working as you screwed with undiluted anger. ‘It’s his fault that I feel this way. His fault that I don’t like it. I was fucking fine before he showed up.’

The more angrier you seemed to get, the more forcibly you would screw. You felt the tears burn at the corner of your eyes, but you try your best to ignore it. When the bolt physically can’t screw anymore you hold it tightly enough to make your knuckles turn white.

‘I hate you so fucking much! I hate you.’

You looked up just in time to see the tears fall from your eyes in your mirror. You silently watch as they slide down your face and drop of your chin.

“I hate you.”

Your voice is quiet as you talk to your reflection.

“I hate you.”

Your a little louder now and standing, walking threatening to your mirror.

“I fucking hate you!”

Your anger bubbles and soon you erupts. The gadget in your hand slams into the glass, and as expected, it shatters. You shook with anger as the tears spilled, you felt weak and numb. It wasn’t until a knock on your door drew your attention that you even noticed the gaping gashes on your hand. You thank the adrenaline as you rush off to your bathroom, yelling for the person outside your door to come in.

“(Y/N)? Are you okay?” The voice is quiet but no doubt Kirishima’s. The panic in you triples as you remember the blood and broken glass on your floor. You run the hot water over your wounds and hold back a pained squeal.

“Y-yea, I’m okay!” You lie as you try to reach for the first aid under your sink. “Just a little mechanical mishap.”

The box tumbles out with a loud thud and you hope he didn’t hear it. Unfortunately, he does, and tries to open the bathroom door only for it to jiggle, indicating that it’s locked. When he calls for you, you can hear the panic in his voice and a throb of guilt sits in your abdomen.

 You yell to him that you’ll only be a second as you messily wrap your hand. When he can tell that you aren’t going to open up soon, he takes it upon himself to use his quirk and ram the door open. 

The scene before him is a bad one. You on the floor, red faced, puffy eyed and bloodied up. 

He’s is quick to aid you, questioning you all while wrapping your hand properly. You tell him the truth about your hand and mirror, but when he asks why you were mad to begin with, you become quiet. He is practically begging you to tell him, and even though you think he deserves the silent treatment, to understand that you were, in fact, angry with him, he came all this way to check on you and had even grown concerned for you when seeing your bloodied carpet and broken mirror.

 He was a good guy, and at least deserved an explanation. So you gave him one.  You told him about how you felt about your body, about how you didn’t feel as pretty as the girls that followed him around, and about him eyeing the girl at the gym. You had finished around the same time he had finished wrapping your hand, so you both sat in silence. He looks into your eyes, never anywhere else, as he begins to speak.

“Babe, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize I was making you fee l that way.” He pulls you closer and you allow it, cuddle into his body on your bathroom floor. “I don’t even pay attention to those girls. They don’t compare to you. You’re so amazing, and beautiful.”

When you ask why he was ogling that girl in the gym, he gives you a little smile.

“She had on Red Riot merch Babe. She was just showing me, I promise. I would never ever look at another girl the way I look at you. You’re so gorgeous (Y/N), no matter what.”

That night, you both clean the mess you left, all while he tells you how beautiful you are to him, curves or not. And when he leaves, you hop online to search for that Red Riot sports bra and leggings that had him so excited.

[duhragonball]

[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (140/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation.   This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

[3 December, 233 Before Age. Nagaoka.]

Treekul could feel it.

She was no warrior, and certainly no Saiyan, so she lacked the martial arts training to sense the battle power of other living beings. But she could feel this, and it horrified her.

While the rest of Rehval's Saiyan cultists were fighting Luffa on the other side of the world, Treekul had remained in their underground complex. She was the only alien in the cult, and the only one who couldn't fight. Rehval had stayed behind as well, but mainly because his alchemical bond with Planet Nagaoka allowed him to fight from the comfort of his own home. But he still needed to concentrate for the battle, and so he had cloistered himself in his private quarters, leaving Treekul to explore the empty corridors all by herself. It had been a relaxing experience, a chance to consider everything that had happened to her in the past several months, and how powerful King Rehval had become.

And then she felt it, and she knew that everything had gone terribly wrong.

She didn't know what to do. Treekul had been out of her element for a very long time. She was an archaeologist, one who specialized in alchemical history. The Saiyans Lesseri and Endive had enlisted her aid to investigate rumors of the Jindan Cult. The two of them only knew that it promised power, and they wanted to see for themselves. Along with the Saiyan mathematician Guwar, they eventually found themselves on Nagaoka, and Treekul was forced to join the cult alongside them. Rehval seemed to fancy Treekul. He enjoyed controlling people too much, and the idea of releasing even a minor player like Treekul seemed to violate his principles. Instead, he made her an honorary priestess, and resolved to mentor her in the alchemical arts. For Treekul, life on Nagaoka was like being forced to play an unfamiliar role in a theatrical production. Now, the stage seemed to be crumbling all around her, and she had no idea how to respond.

A wave of panic overwhelmed her first. Treekul knelt down in a corridor and put her head on the floor, under her hands. She remembered this from her elementary school days, when they would have the students drill for tornadoes on her home planet. There was something oddly comforting about the pose, even if it didn't actually help her situation. She rubbed the back of her scalp in vain. Normally, she kept her hair trimmed to one-sixteenth of an inch or less. The rough prickle of it against her palms was soothing to her in times of stress, but Rehval had forced her to grow her hair out during her time in the cult, and her fingers found an unsatisfying softness on her hair. Three inches, she estimated. It amazed her that she had been able to stand it for so long a time.

No, it wasn't so amazing, not when she stopped to think about it. As distressing as it had been to go so long without a trim, Treekul had forced herself to endure it because she didn't want to show weakness around Rehval. She feared his power over her, and she wanted to keep some small semblance of control. If she couldn't cut her hair, the very least she could do was to insist that it didn't bother her. The same held true for the "priestly" garments he provided for her. Someone had taken a priest's burgundy robe and cut it into strips, then hastily assembled those strips into a parody of a dress. It made Treekul look like a rag doll, but she was determined not to let the humiliation show. It suddenly occurred to her that most of her strength over these past few months had depended on having the cultists around to see it. Without an audience to spite, she was suddenly free to have a nervous breakdown.

And so she made up her mind to go to Rehval's chambers. He was the only other person in the facility, and besides, he was the most powerful man in the universe, or so he boasted. Days ago, she had massaged his shoulders while he soaked in elixirs and declared his supremacy to the entire galaxy. It bothered her to go to him for any sort of comfort, but he was nothing if not self-assured. He would gloat that whatever was going on was all part of his master plan, and probably hold her in his arms while he congratulated himself. As Treekul made her way through the complex, she wondered why that had ever bothered her before. Was it so bad to be held?

The truth was that she had written him off as a maniac when they first met. He was a cult leader keeping her prisoner, after all, and he kept insinuating that they would be sleeping together eventually. But that was before his plans all came to fruition, before she learned enough of his secrets to understand that Rehval could actually back up his claims. Now, she began to see him like the cultists saw him: a leader, a provider, a visionary. From that perspective, his interest in her seemed much more flattering.

The door to his chamber was sealed, but Treekul had learned enough alchemy from him to unlock the mystic barrier he had put in place. She suspected that he was counting on her to be able to do this, since he didn't see her as much of a threat. Even if he didn't want her to come in, she preferred his anger to the unknown dread she was now sensing. Besides, he had never really been angry with her. As she traced symbols onto the door with her index finger, she imagined a look of mild surprise on his face when she barged in on him. He would be annoyed by the intrusion, but impressed with her initiative, and pleased to have her company. Maybe he would serve that special tea he had made for her last month, and maybe this time, she would accept his invitation to--

Her train of thought was interrupted when the door finally swung open, and she saw Rehval on the floor. He was not angry, nor surprised, nor pleased to see her. He was lying on his belly, his head turned to one side, his eyes staring blankly forward. Beside him were the glass shards of what had once been one of his elixir bottles. From the stains on the floor, and the color of the drool from his mouth, it was clear that drinking from the bottle had been the last thing he had done.

"Boss?" she asked, unsure what else to say. He was clearly dead, and yet she found this so inconceivable that she was sure he would wake up and answer her somehow. She knelt down beside him, carefully avoiding the broken glass, and touched the side of his neck. She expected this to be a trick of some sort, and he was only pretending to be dead as some sort of test. Even when she found no pulse, she told herself there had to be a reason.

"You've merged your life force with the planet," she said. "That's it. You don't actually need your Saiyan body, so you... you put everything you had into the planet so you could fight Luffa. Only... why would you need to do that?"

She stood up and backed away from him in horror. "You said she was no threat to your plans! You said killing her would be easy! You sent all of your guys to the other side of the planet to go fight her and that still isn't enough?"

And then it suddenly dawned on her, like waking up from a long, strange dream. Rehval really was a maniac. He had been all along. He was more powerful than most maniacs, but that was all.

"You bastard!" she shouted. "You knew you couldn't win, so you sent the others to go hold Luffa off while you committed suicide!"

Impulsively, she kicked him in the ribs, still half-expecting him to wake up and tell her she was mistaken. Instead, his body just lay there, and she backed away, clutching at her face and trying to understand why she wasn't screaming.

He had been using them all, this entire time. But what made her skin crawl was that Treekul had known this all along, and she had fallen under his spell anyway. She had actually begun to imagine wanting to remain in this place, playing the obedient apprentice, or priestess, or consort, or whatever role he had in mind for her. She actually started to feel things for him. Infatuation? Admiration? Were there times when she seriously considered worshiping him like all the others?

But now, the sight of his corpse, useless and ordinary, was like being suddenly drenched with freezing rain. She suddenly remembered Guwar, and how desperate he had been to escape Nagaoka, and how she had refused to go with him. She had thought herself so clever, so patient. She had convinced herself that Guwar was being too hasty, that she would find her own way out when the time was right.

As she turned and ran from Rehval's chamber, Treekul wondered if she was already too late.

*******

What Treekul did not realize was how close to the truth she had been. Rehval had not taken his own life, but instead transferred his essence fully into the planet Nagaoka, in order to make full use of its immense energies. On the opposite side of the planet from his underground complex, he and his followers had been fighting Luffa, who was using the light of the full moon against them. The intense power Treekul had sensed was that of a gigantic golden ape, a Super Saiyan Oozaru, the likes of which had not been seen in well over a thousand years. Rehval had sent an army of alchemically enhanced Saiyans to destroy Luffa, but her ape form had quickly put them to rout. As for Rehval himself, he had willed together an enormous body for himself, one built from gold and other metals he had drawn from Nagaoka's molten interior.

From a safe distance, Endive watched as the gold-Rehval battled the ape-Luffa. His new form was faster and more malleable than the rock-form he had used before, and he had managed to wound Luffa's shoulder, but it wasn't enough to turn the tide. Luffa continued to batter the metallic construct, and when she couldn't hit Rehval's avatar, she simply attacked the planet's surface instead.

Endive wore a dark red uniform, an armored bodysuit that identified her as an Executant, one of the highest ranks in the cult. It was this authority that had allowed her to rally some of the fleeing cultists. Most of them were simply afraid for their lives, and had no idea what to do. Rehval had only ordered them to surround Luffa, and now, he was too busy fighting to give any other commands. They had all assumed killing Luffa would be easy. And then Luffa parted the clouds and revealed her secret weapon, the full moon.

As they all looked on from the relative safety of a mesa, Luffa grabbed the gold-Rehval's body in both of her paws and fired a destructive ki blast from her mouth. The parts that survived this attack melted free of her grasp, and slowly reassembled. Molten columns erupted from the broken crust of Nagaoka, and these formed themselves into giant, spindly hands, with long, distorted fingers. These began to swipe and grab at Luffa, who dodged with ease, and made a gutteral howl of rage.

Suddenly, Endive sensed a ki rising nearby, and she looked over to find one of the cultists raising his hand into the sky. He was preparing to fire on Nagaoka's moon. With desperate speed, she shoved him to the ground before he could launch his attack.

"You fool!" Endive snapped. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I-if we destroy the moon," he said, "then that monster will change back! Then Trismegistus can defeat her!"

"Have you already forgotten?" Endive said with a sneer. "The Master's bond with this planet depends upon the moon as well. It carries the same mystic protection as Nagaoka, but even if it didn't, even if we could blow it up, that would weaken Trismegistus too!"

As he begged for forgiveness, Endive turned back to watch the battle, and realized just how completely Luffa had trapped them.

"She planned all of this," Endive muttered. "She can attack in any direction and hurt him. His bodies, his followers, the planet, its moon. He draws his strength from all of it, but now that she's here, in the midst of it all, she can use that against us. And the more damage she does to the planet, the more of us she kills, the weaker he shall become."

"We have to escape!" cried one of the other cultists.

"Run if you like," Endive said with disgust. "But where exactly will you go? Luffa destroyed all of our ships when she first arrived, remember? The Master is our only hope. If we don't stop her here and now, she will go on attacking this planet until there is nothing left."

"Executant Endive is right!" said a young woman in the crowd. "Trismegistus is our lord and savior! He made us into what we are, so how can we turn our backs on him now?"

This bolstered Endive's spirits, however slightly. Then the woman approached Endive and said: "Please, Executant. I'll do whatever you ask, but we have to save him! Once, he told me I was... that I was... well, 'majestic'."

The word cut through Endive's heart like a dagger chilled in liquid neon. He had called Endive "majestic" once, and claimed that he had reserved the word for very rare occasions. Endive already knew that Rehval shared his bed with nearly every woman in the cult, but she had still clung to the foolish hope that he enjoyed Endive above the rest. She set her jaw in disgust, choking down the angry outburst that was building inside her. There was, after all, nowhere to run, and Luffa would show no mercy. Rehval was a liar and a fraud, but Endive refused to accept these truths. Through sheer force of will, she vowed to reshape the truth into something more palatable. She would live. Rehval would be the immaculate god he claimed to be, and he would honor Endive for her valor.

All Endive had to do to make this dream a reality was to slay the Legendary Super Saiyan. It was a lot less frightening than facing the alternative.

*******

With no one else in the compound, Treekul had an easy time reaching the cult's junkyard, located in a remote field on Nagaoka's surface. Normally, the cultists would have intercepted her, one way or another, but they were all too busy fighting for their lives on the nightside of the planet. Here on the dayside, there was only herself and Rehval's corpse, and so she had no trouble finding an anti-grav truck and driving it to her destination. It disturbed her to see how different the planet looked now. In their bid to flush Luffa out, Rehval had ordered a scorched-earth policy, and sent his followers to scour every habitable part of Nagaoka's surface, just to prevent their enemy from living off wild game and vegetation. Treekul didn't know if that plan had succeeded or not, but now that they had found their quarry, it all seemed like a terrible waste. Nagaoka's dreary plains and eternally grey skies had been nothing special to look at, but it was far better than the current view of ash and smoke.

The cult had a shipyard, but Luffa had destroyed that very early on. Treekul's hope was that the junkpiles would be spared. The spacecraft in that place were all damaged and useless anyway, so what was the point in attacking there? And to Treekul's relief, the Saiyans had seen fit to agree with her reasoning. As she brought the truck to a stop, the view of scrapheaps and discarded stardrives seemed to be just about the same as she left it. There were even patches of grass around the area, indicating that Rehval's minions had gone out of their way to avoid hitting it.

Treekul had spent months devising plans for escaping Nagaoka, but most of those plans relied on the shipyard, which was now a smoldering ruin. There was one plan that involved a technique Rehval had shown her for dimensional gateways. He had once used one to literally walk from one planet to another light years away. But that idea assumed he would still be alive to teach her how to do it. All she had left was a half-formed scheme to cobble together enough spare parts to fix one of the damaged ships in the junkyard, and come up with something spaceworthy. But that idea relied on getting one of the cultists to help her, someone with the technical skills to perform the repairs, and they were all half a world away, or dead.

As Treekul roamed the yard, she cursed herself for not appreciating her predicament sooner. Rehval had allowed her to indulge in all of her scheming because he knew any plan she tried would depend on cult resources. Anything she did would only drag her deeper into Rehval's quagmire. Now, without him, all she had was herself, and several dozen ships with broken hulls or missing engines. It would take her weeks to figure out how to get one working. Judging from the awful feeling of dread she sensed, Treekul suspected that she didn't have that long.

She quickly narrowed down her search to a single ship with a working life support system. It was a small freighter, Thallian from the looks of it. She booted up the main computer and checked its status. With each green light on the screen, Treekul's hopes were lifted. The only damage seemed to be a hull breach in four of the cargo tanks, but those had already been sealed with emergency bulkheads, and Treekul wasn't worried about hauling grain.

And then her heart sank, as the computer informed her that the engines were inoperable. There were multiple leaks in the coolant systems, and the superluminous drive had a hunk of molten silicon where a circuit board was supposed to be. Even if she could make the repairs, the fuel reserves were empty. Someone from the cult must have removed it all before leaving the ship here. The only propulsion left were a few maneuvering thrusters powered by curium RTG batteries. Those wouldn't even be enough to get the ship off the ground.

Treekul went over it again, but there was no escaping the facts. Whatever happened to Nagaoka, it looked like she would share its fate. With nowhere left to turn, she sat down in the pilot's chair and put her head down on the workstation desk, then wrapped her arms around her face and wept with despair.

A few minutes passed, and then she heard someone outside.

*******

Endive didn't launch her attack right away. Instead she tried to gather as many Saiyans as she could to join in. There were still some other Executants who survived the Golden Ape's initial attack, and their communicators still worked. Within minutes, she managed to assemble ten thousand cultists to flank Luffa on five sides. Three wings would draw her fire, while the other two would target her tail. It was their only chance. The Golden Oozaru was too powerful for them, but if they could force Luffa back to her normal Super Saiyan form, it would be easy for Rehval to finish her off.

They waited for Rehval to reform his golden body. Endive found it unsettling to look at. Normally, she rather liked the glitter of gold, but the light from Luffa's monstrous body made the metal look strange. Worse, Rehval was constantly twisting and stretching it to bizarre proportions. He looked like an even more horrible creature than the ape-thing he was fighting. At times, he tried to wrap his limbs around Luffa's arms and turn his face inside out to stab her with his neck.

The battle offended all of her senses. The damage done to the Nagaokan environment had unleashed an acrid stench in the air, one that now mingled with the charred and vaporized bodies of Endive's comrades. Her ki senses almost hurt from the intensity of the power her master and the Golden Ape were using. And as they closed in on their target, the sound of Luffa's bestial cackle was almost too loud to bear.

Rehval Trismegistus had equipped his warriors with three blessings. The Mindworm was a guard against telepathic intrusion, but Luffa was no longer bothering with this, so it gave them no advantage. The Jindan power gave them all added strength, but it was a power that was shared between themselves and their master, and Luffa was pressuring them both now. The third blessing were the spears they carried into battle. For the uninitiated, they were ordinary pole arms with vanadium heads. But in the hands of a Jindan cultist, the spears could channel a powerful energy blast, amplifying the wielder's ki. Those who still had their spears now charged at Luffa, or launched them at her from a safe distance.

And with Rehval keeping her occupied, it seemed to actually work, the glowing spears dug into the thick golden fur, and Luffa cried out as the energy blasts rained down on her from all sides. Endive led her own wing in for the base of her tail, while the fifth group zeroed in on the tip...

And Luffa whirled around, faster than anyone would have dreamed possible for such an enormous creature.

"Fools!" she bellowed. "Did you think I'd just sit still and let you carve it off!"

Endive was stunned. In one instant she had gone from looking at Luffa's backside to staring into her merciless crimson eyes. At such close range, she could see the spears sticking out of Luffa's hide, and they looked like tiny seeds that one might pick up from walking through an arboretum. The beast didn't even seem to notice them. And worse, there was her master, the great golden idol himself, King Rehval III Trismegistus, his body stretched thin and wrapped around Luffa's body like a piece of plastic film. His distorted face could be seen on one of the strands near her left shoulder, and his expression was twisted with a mixture of frustration and terror. If he even noticed Endive, he didn't show it. The Thrice Blessed had bigger problems to worry about.

And then Luffa opened her mouth and breathed a firestorm of destructive energy down onto Endive's group. Endive threw up her arms to defend herself, and perhaps her own powers did blunt the effects slightly, but it was simply too much. She felt herself being overwhelmed almost immediately. The only thing that saved her from being completely annihilated was an instinct to roll with the attack, and launch herself away from it at an oblique angle.

The pain was excruciating. Endive had survived, only to immediately regret it. Her skin was blistered and cracked, and the smell of burnt hair led her to suspect that her face looked very much like her arms. She could barely breathe, and her power level had dropped sharply. She tried to call out for help, but couldn't make her voice work. As she slowly drifted to the ground, her ki unable to keep her airborne, Endive could only watch helplessly as Luffa made short work of the rest of the cultists. At last, Luffa unleashed another powerful blast in Endive's general direction, and this one vaporized her on contact, putting an end to her suffering.

As she lay dying, Endive's last thought was for the utter futility of it all. She had given everything she had for Rehval, and he had failed her utterly, and in the end, she had been denied even the opportunity to consider betraying him. He had promised to transform the universe, but for Endive, he had removed all possibilities for her life save a single road, leading to death on Nagaoka.

Luffa fired again, not at Endive personally, but her enormous attacks were such that it didn't really matter what Luffa was aiming at. When the flames approached, Endive was actually grateful to the Golden Ape for giving her a quick end to her suffering. And then Endive joined her comrades in oblivion.

*******

Treekul heard something on board the ship. She also felt tremors. The battle was supposed to be happening on the night side of the planet, and yet something was happening that even made the ground shake on the dayside.

Warily, she got up from the pilot's chair and stepped carefully to the crew quarters in the aft section. At this point, she didn't know what to expect, or whether it would help or not, but she couldn't imagine the situation getting any worse than it already was. There were four cabins on the freighter. As she checked inside the third, she spotted a woman who had opened the hatch to peek inside.

"Lesseri?" Treekul asked.

They had come to Nagaoka together. Lesseri and Endive had been the ones to approach Treekul for assistance in finding the Jindan Cult, and later they recruited the Saiyan Guwar to join their quest. Now, Guwar was gone, maybe dead, and Endive was probably on the nightside of the planet, fighting Luffa. Treekul hadn't seen much of Lesseri in the past several months. She had been demoted to menial duties in the cult, a punishment for her past association with Luffa.

Lesseri looked awful. All of the cultists looked desperate and tense, even in the best of times, but Lesseri looked even more so. There was something in her eyes that reminded Treekul of a suspension bridge collapsing.

"You remember me?" Lesseri asked timidly. She still had the same sculpted muscles under her dark brown skin, and the same thick long hair, but the voice was so small and afraid, nothing at all like the Lesseri she had known in the past.

"Of course I do," Treekul said. "What are you doing here?"

"I... I came to find you," Lesseri said. "You don't have much ki, but with everyone else on the other side of the planet, it was easier to sense your energy. And you're an alien, so you have a unique scent. That helped."

For a brief, terrifying moment, Treekul feared that the cultists had sent Lesseri to capture or kill her for trying to escape, but then she dismissed this as pointless. Treekul wasn't going anywhere, that much was clear, and Lesseri seemed more terrified of Treekul than the other way around. Suddenly, Treekul remembered that she was still wearing her dress, the one that identified her as a priestess.

"Why were you looking for me?" Treekul asked.

"You forgave me," Lesseri said. "I was contaminated by Luffa, and I tried to hide it from the Master. So he condemned me, and now Luffa's come to destroy us all. I'm doomed no matter what happens. We're all doomed, I think. But you... you forgave me for my impurity. You're an alien, but he accepted you into his priesthood. I know that I have to die, but you can still live."

Treekul didn't know what she was talking about. "I'm stuck here, just like the rest of you," she said. She pointed her thumb back at the pilot section. "If I could get this ship moving, maybe I'd have a chance, but I've got no propulsion."

Lesseri stared at her for a moment, as though slowly digesting this information. At last she replied: "I can throw the ship into space. You'd be safe up there. Maybe."

"I'd never be able to leave the system," Treekul said. "As soon as the rations run out... wait, I don't even know if this ship has any rations on board."

"You can send out a distress signal," Lesseri said. "Someone can pick you up."

Lesseri turned to walk back out of the hatch, and it seemed to Treekul that she had already made up her mind to do this. Treekul rushed after her.

"Wait!" she said. "You could lift the ship from the inside, couldn't you? I mean, you could come with me. We'd stand a better chance that way, right?"

Lesseri turned back to her and smiled weakly. "That's why you need to survive. You're the blessed reagent. The Alkahest. The Master always spoke about it, but he acted like it was a hidden, mysterious thing. I should have known it was you. That's why he wanted you at his side. You know the secret that Luffa was always trying to teach me before."

"Lesseri, what are you talking about?" Treekul pleaded, though she wasn't sure that she really wanted to know the answer to that. She suspected that Lesseri had been driven insane by the cult's doctrines and the guilt they had inflicted upon her. Between Luffa and Rehval, Lesseri seemed to have invented her own warped theology within the cult's dogma.

"Luffa came here because I killed my own mother, did you know that?" Lesseri said. There was a faraway look in her eyes. "She followed the stench of my iniquity all the way here, and now we all have to die. So I can't go with you. She'll just follow me and kill us both. But thanks for offering. I have to accept my fate."

"Oh," Treekul said. She wondered if she could convince Lesseri to stay on the ship, but at the same time she wondered if it was a good idea to have her around in this condition. She could barely stand to look at Lesseri anymore. It wasn't so much her physical appearance as it was the haunted look in her expression. The utter resignation in her eyes. Treekul never wanted to see her again.

"You forgive me, don't you?" Lesseri asked. "For killing my mother, I mean. Luffa said I should have taken revenge in battle, instead of using a bomb. I can't do it over again, but I can save you. It's the best I can do."

"I... yes, I forgive you," Treekul said. There was no point in upsetting her now. It was best to just go along with it.

"And... my mother forgives me too, doesn't she?" Lesseri asked. "You would know that, right?"

"She does," Treekul assured her, doing her best to put some authority into her voice. "She's waiting for you in the Otherworld. I... I promise."

Lesseri smiled again, more faintly than before. "That's nice," she murmured. "I hope I won't have to clean the breeding pits in the afterlife. I hope... Well, I should get you under way. Bless you, Priestess. Thank you for everything."

"Uh, yeah," Treekul said. Gingerly, she raised her hand and waved it slightly. "Goodbye, Lesseri."

The Saiyan turned and left, closing the hatch behind her. A few seconds later, Treekul felt the ship jostling, and realized it was Lesseri lifting it up into the air. She headed back to the pilot's seat to strap in.

Treekul wasn't sure what would happen next. Lesseri was strong enough to throw the ship out of Nagaoka's gravity well, but after that, nothing was certain. She might starve to death waiting for rescue, or Luffa might kill her anyway out of spite, or the cultists might win and take her prisoner all over again. All she knew for certain was that nothing was certain.

Treekul closed her eyes and waited.

NEXT: Destroyed by her own power.

[thecomicsnexus]

JUSTICE LEAGUE #1-6 NOVEMBER 2011 - APRIL 2012 BY GEOFF JOHNS, JIM LEE, SCOTT WILLIAMS, ALEX SINCLAIR, HI-FI DESIGN, GABE ELTAEB, SANDRA HOPE, MARK IRWIN, JOE WEEMS, TONY AVIÑA AND MATT BANNING

SYNOPSIS (FROM DC DATABASE)

Batman is pursuing one of Darkseid's Parademons across the rooftops of Gotham, while the Gotham police pursue and fire upon both of them from helicopters. Batman blinds the police in the helicopters with smoke bombs, then stops the Parademon and is attempting to interrogate it when it lets out a burst of flame, forcing Batman to release it. As Batman and the Parademon face off again, Green Lantern interrupts the fight by slamming a fire-engine construct into the Parademon. The Gotham police continue firing on Batman, Green Lantern, and the Parademon, but their fire is blocked by Green Lantern's shield constructs. As Batman and Green Lantern talk, the Parademon recovers and destroys the police helicopters, but Green Lantern creates bat constructs which hold up the helicopters and prevent the heroes from getting injured. As they follow the Parademon into the streets of Gotham, Batman suggests that Green Lantern return to Coast City, since "Gotham's mine. Coast City is yours." Green Lantern responds by saying that the entire space sector is his and he was alerted to an "unauthorized extraterrestrial presence" in Gotham.

Batman and Green Lantern move underground in pursuit of the Parademon. Green Lantern asks Batman whether he has any powers. Batman replies "No.", to which Green Lantern replies, "Hold on a second, you're not just some guy in a bat costume, are you? Are you freaking kidding me?!". Batman then holds up Green Lantern's power ring and asks him how it works, upsetting Green Lantern who asks if Batman would really want to pick a fight with someone who can create anything he can think of. Batman says that he'd be worried if he thought Green Lantern could think.

Batman then points out the Parademon attaching a Mother Box to a sewer wall. With a shout of "For Darkseid!", the Parademon blows itself up, attempting to kill Batman and Green Lantern in the blast, but Green Lantern creates a (literal) safe construct to save them. When Green Lantern attempts to scan the box, the ring can't identify it, which Green Lantern says is impossible since the Guardians know everything. Batman says the box looks like some kind of "alien computer", and the two agree to go to Metropolis to ask the known extra-terrestrial Superman about it.

Meanwhile, at a high school football game, wide receiver Vic Stone impresses several college recruits. After the game, the scouts all want to talk to Vic. In the meantime, a despondent Vic is on the phone telling his father (or his father's voicemail) that his coach won't let the scouts talk to him without his dad there, and that they won the game (not that his dad would ask). After he hangs up, Vic, along with most of the team, runs outside to excited shouts as Batman and Green Lantern fly overhead in a jet construct. One of his teammates asks Vic if his dad studies super-humans, and he says that while he does, he never talks to him about them.

After landing in Metropolis, Batman criticizes the jet construct as being too visible while he and Green Lantern look for Superman. Green Lantern's ring leads them right to him, at which point Green Lantern encases Batman in a cage construct and tells him that he can also handle it. A moment later, Superman, using super-speed, knocks Green Lantern through the cage construct and into a pair of parked cars, apparently knocking him unconscious. As Batman begins to rise up from the ground, Superman looks at him and says "I don't handle easy. So...what can you do?"

At the crime lab of the Central City Police Department, Barry Allen is arguing with Director Singh because the latter ordered him to leave a case. The reason is because their chief wants them all working on the "Flash case": They must find out everything about the vigilante named "the Flash", including his secret identity. Of course, the CCPD is unaware that Barry Allen is the Flash.

Back at the fight between Superman and Batman, the Man of Steel points out that Batman's utility belt is empty, leaving him without any means of defense against him, as nothing Batman used so far on him has worked. Superman charges against Batman and crushes him against a wall. He then starts interrogating the Dark Knight, demanding to know where the mysterious boxes that have been appearing over the last few days come from and what are they for. Green Lantern gets up while people run away from him and gets ready for a second chance against Superman. While the latter is choking Batman, Green Lantern attacks Superman, while Batman tries to stop them both. Lantern captures Superman in chains made by his ring, but Superman points out the absurdity of doing so and easily frees himself by breaking them. He then starts attacking both Green Lantern and Batman, constantly punching Green Lantern's constructs. After Lantern creates a shield construct to protect himself and Batman, he gets the idea of calling a friend who may be faster than Superman: Barry Allen, the Flash. Barry gets surprised by the fact that Hal is with Batman and is fighting Superman. At first Barry refuses to help Hal, since the last time Green Lantern and the Flash were seen together they destroyed the Museum of Natural History while stopping Gorilla Grodd. Since the situation against Superman is getting critical with Lantern's shield giving way, Barry is convinced to help Hal, gets on his Flash costume and starts attacking Superman. At first he only teases him by easily avoiding his attacks, until Superman manages to hit him.

Batman quickly intervenes and stops the fight, explaining to Superman that they had nothing to do with the invading Parademons, and Green Lantern and him were also attacked by them. While Batman explains that the reason why they looked for him was because he was also an alien and could better explain the nature of the boxes and the Parademons, the Flash starts cleaning up and repairing the site of the fight, but they get interrupted by the forces of the government, so they quickly go into hiding in the sewers, convincing Superman to go with them.

Meanwhile, in Detroit, at the S.T.A.R. Labs Super-Human study center, Silas Stone and his team are studying the mysterious box from Superman's battle earlier that morning. While doing so, Silas gets informed of the arrival of his son Victor, to which he reacts frustratingly annoyed. Victor explains to his annoyed father that he has great chances of lots of full scholarships. His father answers that he is already paying him his school, so he doesn't need a scholarship. While Victor tries to explain to his father how important sports are to him, Silas points out how pointless is to take interest in sports in a world full of super-humans that have abilities over the finest of regular humans, thus rendering any effort to be a great sportsman obsolete. Victor then wants to confirm whether his father really isn't going to come to one of his games, to which his father confirms. Meanwhile, the four heroes have hidden themselves at an abandoned printing press, the only safe place Superman knows at Metropolis. Green Lantern suggests to Flash that they better get rid of Batman and Superman, because they would only be a burden. Flash refuses because they need someone to help them figure out the nature of the boxes. While they are examining the box, both their own and the box at S.T.A.R. Labs start reacting strangely, opening a Boom Tube that teleports a swarm of Parademons in both places and start tearing Victor apart.

In Washington D.C., military personnel, including Colonel Steve Trevor, are observing TV reports of crowds protesting against Wonder Woman because she is a pagan, and because she, like the other super-powered humans, is perceived as dangerous. Apparently, Diana had previously been with them at their office in the Pentagon, and Trevor asks where she has gone. He is told that she was watching the TV news; and when she spotted a report about a winged monster terrorizing people in downtown D.C., she took off. Efforts to detain her were futile because of her raw power.

Wonder Woman is walking in D.C. as a crowd gathers and gapes at her. The crowd remains silent out of fear, until a young girl seems unafraid and introduces herself. Wonder Woman and her new friend enjoy an ice-cream break together. Steve Trevor arrives and tries to talk Diana into returning with him to the Pentagon. Diana resists, saying that she wants to fight the forces of darkness that are lurking nearby.

Suddenly they are startled to see one of Darkseid's minions, making the same pinging sound as before. Several of the aliens swoop down to attack Wonder Woman. Diana is pleased that the battle has come to her, and beams with excitement.

At S.T.A.R. Labs in Detroit, the winged monsters are terrorizing the workers. One of the monsters snatches and abducts Professor Ivo. Dr. Silas Stone is cradling his son Vic, who was seriously hurt in the explosion last issue and appears to be near death. Dr. Stone defiantly says that he once watched his wife die, and will not let his son die too.

In Metropolis, at the site of the abandoned Daily Planet printing press, we see lots and lots of the winged monsters causing more terror. We are told that portals are opening up across the world; and that the armies of demons are pouring out through the portals. Someone exclaims that this is "judgment day". Superman, Batman, Flash, and Green Lantern are fighting the monsters; but there are now so many of them. Flash, listening to radio broadcasts in his earpiece as he battles, indicates that the attacks are happening all over the world, and that the populace is blaming the super-heroes.

The heroes talk as they fight. Batman and Green Lantern continue to bicker. Flash is surprised to hear that Batman has no powers. Batman wants to step back and regroup because there are just too many of the monsters. He prefers having a strategy instead of just using brute force. Superman is having good success fighting many of the baddies at once, using a nearby 18-wheeler truck as a weapon to pulverize the monsters.

Back in Detroit, we follow Dr. Stone and his co-workers as they enter a secure medical room at S.T.A.R. Labs, carrying Victor as they go. Dr. Stone implores his son to hang on.

Green Lantern is amazed to see Superman swing an 18-wheeler "like a baseball bat". Superman and Batman observe that the winged monsters are abducting many people now; carrying them away rather than hurting them. Batman wonders what their motive is. Several of the monsters chant "For Darkseid" like before. As the nascent Justice League continues to battle the creatures, Wonder Woman joins the battle. She shouts "Back to Hades" as she barrels into the swarm of monsters, swinging her sword. The other heroes are impressed with her display of strength and fighting prowess. They seem to be impressed by her beauty as well.

In Detroit, Vic Stone, barely alive, goes into cardiac arrest as his father works feverishly to save him using experimental technology. As they activate nanites to help with the integration of the new bio-technology, Vic starts spouting binary code. Subsequently, we hear a message from Vic's machinery indicating that he is now online.

Wonder Woman explains that she followed the winged monsters, which led her to the other super-heroes. She saw their battle in progress, and decided to help. The winged monsters are circling above a body of water, and then start again making the pinging sounds, which usually indicates that an explosion or other dramatic event is imminent. A waterspout appears rather explosively, and then a large and mysterious object emerges from the ocean. The object appears to be a conveyance of some kind, like a spaceship or watercraft. But it may be something else entirely. The heroes wonder aloud what it is.

Suddenly Aquaman rises from the water, saying the monsters and their giant mysterious object were visible in the water as well. Aquaman wants to know which one of the heroes is in charge; and suggests that he would be a good choice.

Victor finally comes to in the red room of S.T.A.R. Labs and notices his now cyborg body and is confused. All of a sudden a group of Parademons bursts in and attacks the group, and Victor uses his newly discovered sonic cannon to destroy them, and then see's himself in a mirror, to which he is taken aback. He then jumps out of a hole in the roof, blaming his father for his new body. Meanwhile the Justice League examines Aquaman's intentions and skills. After getting a demonstration they hold off the Parademons while also fighting the military who have been told to engage all non-humans including superheroes. After debating how to handle the men shooting at them they find themselves in front of a delirious Vic Stone who tries to warn them of an already approaching Darkseid who has now appeared in front of them.

The heroes are recovering from the violent explosion caused by Darkseid upon his arrival in the last issue. Flash is the first to regain consciousness, and is horrified to see Darkseid destroy a military jet and its passenger with his Omega Beam. Superman awakes next, and Darkseid targets the two of them with another Omega Beam. Flash grabs Superman and begins to carry him to safety at super-speed, urging him to move it. When the heroes split up, the twin beams split up also, each beam targeting one of the heroes. As an evasive maneuver, Flash vibrates and passes through one of the demon-bots, causing the beam to destroy that robot instead of the Scarlet Speedster. As Flash catches his breath after this exhausting but successful maneuver, he looks up to see that Superman is not quite so lucky. Taking the full brunt of the Omega Beam, Superman is knocked out, although not destroyed; and is seen being carried away by one of the winged demon-bots. The other heroes are regaining consciousness now, as Flash shares the horrible news that Superman has been abducted. The heroes discuss interrogating Darkseid to find out why Superman was taken. Green Lantern springs into action and attacks Darkseid. His constructs are not effective against the god of Apokolips; but GL courageously keeps trying even while being on the receiving end of several vicious blows from Darkseid. When Green Lantern shows his determination to continue the battle, Darkseid lifts Hal by his right forearm and applies crushing force, causing the arm to break in a couple of places. Darkseid sends him flying with another punch, and then walks away as Hal struggles to recover and persist against all odds.

Batman attempts to deter Green Lantern from going up against Darkseid in his badly injured condition. Batman wants to gather the rest of the team and form a strategy. He criticizes Green Lantern for wanting to carry on the fight with a broken arm. In response, GL fashions a moveable cast with his ring, and says he is prepared to die if necessary.

Batman continues to ask Green Lantern why he is driven to press on in this futile attack. Batman implies that he understands Green Lantern well because they are very much alike. After Green Lantern rejects this notion, Batman pulls a very surprising maneuver. He removes his mask, introduces himself as Bruce Wayne, and tells a short version of his origin; explaining that he was driven to train for a life of fighting crime after witnessing the brutal death of his parents at the hand of a mugger when Bruce was ten years old.

Bruce asks Hal to regroup with the other heroes, keep them alive, and keep Darkseid busy until Batman returns. When Green Lantern asks where he is going, Batman responds that he is going to rescue Superman.

Batman stands in the open in plain sight with his arms outstretched in an apparently submissive gesture. It does not take long for one of the flying demon-bots to swoop down and carry Batman away.

Green Lantern does regroup with the other heroes, and helps pull them out of the rubble. He shares his plan, that they should go as a group and follow Darkseid, who was last seen heading into the city on foot. GL explains that the heroes should stay out of sight for the moment. When they find Darkseid, Green Lantern will act as a distraction to lure him out, so that the other heroes can attack. This was precisely the plan proposed by Aquaman last issue. Green Lantern gives Cyborg the option to stay behind, since he has not yet officially declared himself as a superhero, but Vic is eager to join the battle. The heroes head towards the heart of Metropolis, to meet up with Darkseid.

We follow Batman as he is carried to another portal created by a Boom Tube. As Batman steps through, he finds himself in an unlikely place; peering out over a hellish landscape. It appears that Batman has been transported to Darkseid's home world, Apokolips.

In the middle of the parademon assault, a writer named David is trying to save his family, wishing for some help. His prayer is seemingly answered by a set of green fireworks on the horizon. The fireworks are part of the Justice League's plan to fight Darkseid.

On Apokolips, Bruce Wayne sneaks through the building he is in, finding a pair of superbeings discussing the invasion of the Multiverse in search of Darkseid's daughter, who was apparently kidnapped. The superbeings have Superman tied down before them, and they plan to clone him as part of the next generation of parademons.

On Earth, Cyborg uses his new machinery to tap into he Mother Box network. By saying the word, he is able to suddenly overload the system, causing teleport holes to appear all over the area - and on Apokolips. This shocks the two beings torturing Superman, and Batman uses the moment to free Superman, before the two escape back to Earth through the Boom Tubes. They try to trap Darkseid on the other side of a Boom Tube, but he grabs Superman. With seconds to spare, Cyborg works out how to shut down the network, seemingly killing Darkseid. The world is saved.

In the immediate aftermath, a crowd gathers around. The group thinks they are to be stoned, but instead they are cheered, hailed as the world's greatest superhumans. Writing after the fact, Graves acknowledges the wording was off. The group were the world's greatest super heroes. At a subsequent awards ceremony, the U.S. President gives a speech about how this team of heroes saved the world. Green Lantern is about to break ranks and say it was a one-time deal, but Batman stops him, pointing out that official sanction will get the GCPD off his back, the Air Force off Green Lantern's and the Army off Superman's. The President receives a message from an aide, to say there has been a disaster, and the group is needed. The Flash announces that they have a name, and tells the President to call them the "Super Seven." The rest of the team hates this.

A writer named David Graves writes a book about them later, coining the term "super heroes." In his book, Graves calls this team the "Justice League." The book is titled "Gods Among Us" and the cover depicts them fighting a starfish-monster (Starro).

In London, a man with the shadow of a devil meets a man with glowing blue eyes. They discuss the fact that since the Justice League started, similar beings have become active: Green Arrow, Hawkman, Zatanna. The second man muses that if these are super heroes, then people like himself would be called super villains. As he lights a cigarette, we see he has a monstrous-looking lapel pin.

On a street in the rain, a man has been murdered. The Woman in Purple is there, trying to investigate. As she walks away, she is accosted by the Phantom Stranger, who tells her that she was wrong to alter the timeline as she did, and that he is to take her in. The Woman in Purple says that she is done being passive, and shoots the Phantom Stranger in the head. He recovers instantly, and the Woman in Purple says it was a warning shot. She will do what she will do.

REVIEW

I usually tag some reviews as “Post modern age”. There is no such thing. But to me, the era of the relaunches needed to be separated from the common Modern Age of comics. And while the New 52 is the clear beginning of it... I also put Spider-man post “one more day” under the same tag.

The New 52 had a purpose that is very clear in this story. Tell new stories with these characters and do not be afraid of changing them to make those stories work. Love it or hate it, you have to respect the determination of blending three universes. This worked pretty well during the first six month of publishing, but “creative differences” became a major problem for DC that still plagues them until these days. It’s a mess.

But the initial idea is great. When you read this story, you have to remember this is a fresh start. So it doesn’t really matter if Superman is more violent and talks aggressive, or if Aquaman is too cocky (well, maybe that didn’t change so much). This is the first time you are meeting these characters, and this story sets up a few other arcs (that we feel even after Rebirth).

This story inspired two movies: Justice League and Justice League: War. Scenes from this story can also be seen in Wonder Woman. This is no coincidence, as Geoff Johns was also involved at some point in those projects.

Perhaps the biggest difference is Wonder Woman here against the one on her own title. There is something missing from this Wonder Woman, that compassion that makes her different.

As a result of the approach, these characters are way more violent than they used to be a month before.

The art starts very well and then begins to change in terms of quality. If you look at the credits, several inkers and color separators were involved in half back of the arc, so I guess that explains it. It still looks amazing... but it could be better.

Darkseid barely speaks in this story, but we learn his motivations thanks to that scene with Desaad and Steppenwolf, mentioning Darkseid’s daughter. This arc will bookend this title (will be explored during “Darkseid War”).

Cyborg debuts as the 7th member with this story (displacing Martian Manhunter to Stormwatch). To be honest, the logic for this is still an enigma to me. I understand why Martian Manhunter wasn’t popular, but Cyborg wasn’t that great either. My guess is that he gained popularity through the titans animated shows, but this created a hole into the Titans history after the New 52. The Titans are the real losers of this relaunch, in general. If diversity was the concern, I would have gone for another woman (as Diana is the only female hero), or perhaps someone with a different color (like Vixen, Doctor Light II, etc). Ultimately, the usefulness of Cyborg in the context of the group is that he can teleport them. That’s his main asset. I respect it, but I am still not convinced.

I give this story a technical score of 10

[lettersofwrittencollective]

The Pull (18/?)

Summary: The Ragnulf’s are one of the oldest lines of werewolves known. A gift from ancient times was given to the line. Though not all of the line will experience it. There are some who will experience a Pull. This Pull leads them to their true mate, a soulmate. The problem is, just because the wolf finds their true mate does not mean that they are the same for that person.

Author: @lettersofwrittencollective

Pairing: Stiles x Hale!Cousin OC (Reader)

Word Count 1227

Warnings: None 

A/N: As always, please let me know what you thought. Any comments, questions, or concerns. I LOVE hearing/ reading your thoughts!!

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You’re walking through the halls, looking for Kira. She may not want to talk about what happened to her but this is definitely not a time for her to be alone either.  Hearing your name being called, you stop and turn, watching Aiden weave through some of the other students to catch up to you.

“You know, you didn’t have to yell. I would have heard your inside voice.”

“But we’re supposed to be humans in high school.”

“I’m pretty sure that Beacon Hills has seen much weirder things than someone being able to hear really, really well.” Aiden just looks at you like he’s not that impressed. You ask him what he needs and are slightly thrown off by his request.

“Does Derek still have those generators?”

“Yeah.. wh- wait, how do you know about them?”

“Well one, I saw them the night before ya’ll tracked down Malia and two- well.. Kali had us disable them that night.” he trails off almost as if he’s uncomfortable talking about the situation and you nod your head in understanding as you remember  that Isaac had told you the twins had held Derek's claws while Kali had impaled Boyd upon them.

“Yea, we’ve still got them. Why?”

“Ethan and I are trying to do something nice.”

Moving to lean against the wall of the hallway, you cross your arms. ‘That doesn’t explain why you’re asking about our generators.”

“I was hoping that we could use the loft for Danny’s party tonight.”

Oh this was gonna be good, schooling your features into a look of confusion, you ask “Danny’s having a party?”

The shock that runs across Aidens face is almost priceless, “You- you didn’t know?” he stutters out.

“Why would I? I’m new here still and it’s not like Danny and I are friends.” Neither of which is a lie, though the second may be more of a technicality. You had met Danny once while waiting for Isaac to finish lacrosse practice, which was when he’d invited you to the party - but that didn’t make you friends.  

“But, he told basically everyone in school…” Aiden is whispering before he started to try and back pedal, “I swear - I thought you knew. It’s not like I would just ask for…”

He’s cut off by you laughing. “Aiden, I’m pulling your leg. I knew about it. But, honestly, do you really think Derek’s gonna just let you have a party at the loft?”

“Derek’s back?”

At your nodded confirmation, AIden sighed, “What about Peter?”

“Both of them got in yesterday apparently.”

‘Well then.. Nevermind I guess.” he says and runs a hand through his hair. Before he can turn away, you see that he actually looks somewhat upset at the news.

You’re determined to go about your day. First things first, you need to find Kira and make sure that she’s okay. You start up in the direction you had been going but then your conscience gets the better of you.

You try to argue with yourself, sure you had said that you would help but that doesn’t mean that you had to get yourself in trouble with either of your cousins. Derek would have a conniption if you threw a party at the loft you’re sure and Peter… Well Peter had too many seemingly harmless items that would probably end up killing half of the school.

Groaning you turn around and search for Aiden. He’s already out of the hallway that you had just been in. So, moving quickly you rush down the hallway andep finding him not too far around the corner.

“Aiden!” you call out, grabbing his attention. He stops at the end of the hallway but doesn’t turn to you. Jogging over to him, you say “I’ll help but you’ve gotta tell me  why you really wanna do this.”

Aiden signs, “Lydia thinks I’m a monster. And Scott.. Scotts not looking for power. Ethan made a good point. Scott.- he cares about people.”

“So you’re trying to be a normal human in high school? And you think that doing this is going to help Lydia see that you’re not a monster and show Scott that you’re more than your past?”

Aiden doesn’t react and that is all the confirmation that you need. “You can use the loft. It’s safer than Peters apartment. It’s also larger than the apartment. The thing is, you gotta get Derek out of the apartment.”

“You can’t get him out?”

You raise an eyebrow and shake your head, “Nope, you wanna be a normal human, then you get to be the one to plan it.”

“Okay.”

You offer him a slightly smug smile and reach into your pocket, “Awesome,” you pull out the keys you have to the loft and toss them to him. “So, get what you need set up. Generators are already set up on the terrace, you just have to actually power them on. Which is literally just the flip of a switch.”

He gives you a look that screams really?  And you just shrug your shoulders at him. “It’s the best you’re getting from me.”

He chuckles and nods his head at you.

With that you take off and make your way to find Kira or Scott or Stiles. You find Scott first. He’s looking for Stiles. When you asked for, he said that it had to do with Kira.

Thankfully it doesn’t take the two of you very long to find Stiles and Scott doesn’t waste any time saying “We need to get KIra’s phone back.”

He sounds like it’s the most important thing in the world and both you and Stiles share a look.

Stiles doesn’t seem to want to ask so you do, “Why?”

“She’s got some pictures on there that my dad can’t see.”

“And how are we supposed to help with that?” Stiles asks

“We need to get it from the Sheriff's Station?”

“Scott my dad is under review. Or did you conveniently forget that?”

“I mean he’s not wrong Scott, there’s a lot at risk. Mostly to the Stilinski’s... “

“Guys, please?’

“What kind of pictures?”

You hear Scotts heart stop for a moment and you raise an eyebrow at him. “Ummm… nudes?”

“What?!” Stiles scoffs, “Seriously dude? Nudes?”

Scott gives Stiles a look, “Please?” He’s practically begging and Stiles groans for a moment before nodding his head and agreeing. Scotts sigh is full of relief. “Can you get your dads keys?”

“Won’t matter they changed everything to a key card system. You’ve gotta have the right card for the right rooms. Especially to get into the office.”

“Ok what does that mean?”

You raise your eyebrow at Scott, disbelief written on your face. Sighing and shaking your, head you say “It means that we need those cards, some blank ones and an RFID copier.”

“Well, you have one right?”  

“Oh yea, let me just grab an RFID emulator from Roscoe and I’ll get right on that.”

Neither you nor Scott miss the sarcasm in his voice and Scott looks upset. You however, know exactly where to get an RFID emulator on short notice.

Rubbing the back of your neck you ask “You guys trust me?”

Both of them turn to look at you, the question evident in their gaze and you say the one name you know they don’t want to hear, ‘Peter.”

-

-

-

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Tag list: @nicole-lynne @fandom-princess-forevermore @capandbuck @biles-bilinski-24 @stiles-o-dylan24​ @fiveisadorable  @falling-stars-never-cry  @blueraindrops @its-livelovelife​ @screamxqueenx94​ @ceceliaking-18​ @jasmin3xswayz31994​ @dear-vista​ @fangirlbitch02​ @riseandshinelittleblossom​ @jessicakimba @truthdaze @seninjakitey @kateeee0817 @squadkyoya @lucifersnipnips @niawoods`

Do not copy and paste my writing anywhere without my consent. This work is the property of lettersofwrittencollective . Associated characters belong to MTV and are being borrowed for this work, all OC’s are the property of lettersofwrittencollective. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.

Posted 14 April 2019

[the-god-of-nihon]

Writing Idea: It’s called an AU pt1

RWBY characters interacting with alternate versions of themselves and their friends from different universes.

Future Jaune wakes up in his bed back at Beacon, which is odd considering he went to sleep on a ratty couch in an abandoned house. Also Beacon was destroyed 20 years ago.

_______________________________________________________________________

Jaune roused from his slumber, the softness of his bed urging him to stay where he was, in that moment he knew something was wrong. Jaune distinctly remembered falling asleep on a lumpy couch in an abandoned house within which he took shelter. His eyes shot open, met with the sight of a plain ceiling with a single light fixture in the center; a ceiling he knew but hadn’t seen in nearly 20 years. He sat up stiffly, eyes darting from side-to-side taking in the details of the darkened room around him. The bookshelves, the wallpaper, the curtains, three beds to his right it was all the same; this was undoubtedly his dorm room back at Beacon. Which shouldn’t exist anymore. His fists balled in the sheets underneath him, the sensation should have comforted him.

Who would even know what it looked like, let alone the exact placement of everything? Jaune reasoned, thinking the ability to touch things ruled out visual illusions, an ability to alter perceptions to this extent seemed unlikely, even more so due to the nature of what exactly was presented before him. He glanced at the other sleeping figures in the room wondering half-joking to himself that perhaps he fell into some kind of wormhole. He slowly stood, taking deliberate and careful steps towards the bed closest to him. Where Lie Ren, his former teammate, and brother in all but blood slept as he always did, like a log, so still you could mistake him for a corpse. Ren had been gone for years, and yet here he was, younger than he last saw him, but here all the same. “Then that means . . ,” Jaune hazard a look to the other side of the room, and his feet carried him to the furthest bed from him; He leaned over the sleeping girl in it, and gazed down on the face of a beautiful young woman with long crimson hair.

He couldn’t believe it, “Pyrrha?” Jaune extended his hand to touch her, but stopped partially due to how creepy he suddenly felt, partially due to the fear of finding out this really was a dream. The girl in the next bed over turned over, throwing off the covers off her body revealing Nora Valkyrie in all her glory, snoring and drooling. Jaune felt tears burn at the corners of his eyes, this had to be a dream, it was too good to be true.

A quiet gasp drew his eyes back down to the girl he was still leaning over, whom appeared very confused and shocked, Jaune pulled back quickly sputtering out words to explain himself.

Obviously waking up to find a dirty, armed old man leaning over you, even the bravest of individuals would be at least a bit surprised. So Pyrrha sat up and screamed, and almost immediately a blur of pink and orange slammed him into a wall.

Jaune rolled out the way of Nora’s next attack, but found the barrel of a gun pressed against his cheek. Ren staring him down with a look that promised pain, “Who are you?”

“Ren, Jaune is gone!” Pyrrha who had stood and grabbed her own weapon, was near hysterical not due to intruder, but because their leader had apparently vanished into thin air.

“What have you done with Jaune?” Ren pressed again, rage clear on his face.

“If you did anything to Jaune, I’m gonna make you wish you had never been born!” Nora returned with her warhammer, her usual bubbly disposition nowhere in sight.

“I know how this must look, but please listen to m-“ Jaune held his hands up to show his surrender, and try to explain the situation when Team RWBY busted through the door falling in a heap.

The youngest and leader, Ruby climbed out of the pile, worried expression juxtaposed against her pajamas and sleeping mask. “What’s wrong? Who screamed? Did something happen?” Questions streamed out of her mouth as her teammates worked to untangle themselves. Finally taking in the situation at hand, Ruby saw three of her friends in their pajamas holding a middle-aged man at gunpoint.

“What’s going on here?” Yang asked following up on her sister, “who’s the old guy?”

“We were just getting to that,” Pyrrha replied moving closer to her, letting Ren and Nora keep an eye on him. “When I woke up this man was standing over me, I screamed and Nora tackled him. Then we got the situation under control.”

“So he’s some kinda perv?” Yang cracked her knuckle angrily taking a step towards Jaune.

“But how did he get in the first place, we’re not on the first floor, and the doors require a pass code. He’d have had to break in first, which obviously wouldn’t have been quiet, as you noticed when we made out entrance, and there isn’t any sign of forced entry.” Blake straightened out her yukata, pointing out a logical question.

“We think he did something to Jaune as well, he was gone when we woke up!” Pyrrha threw out quickly, indicating to the empty bed against the far wall.

“What!?” Ruby clearly distressed advanced on the man, shouting at him as she got closer, “Why?! Where is Jaune!?”

“Please just let me explai-,” Jaune attempting to start again gesturing with his hands for everyone to calm down.

“Oh dear, this looks like a mess,” the even tone of Ozpin’s voice clearly not fit for the tense situation, inspecting the broken doorframe, then his eye falling onto Jaune.

“Yes, more people just what we need,” Jaune let out a sigh, he would have face-palmed if not for the weapon digging into his cheek. “Just get CRDL and SSSN we can have a party.”

“There had better be a good reason for breaking school property and causing a racket so early in the morning,” Glynda moved into the room riding crop at the ready, soon finding herself glaring at the man sitting on the ground with weapons pointed at his face. “I do not believe we know you sir, and unauthorized individuals are not allowed on campus.”

“Can I finally explain what’s going on,” Jaune snapped, only to find Glynda’s crop pressed against his nose as well, “right.”

“Now now, let’s at least hear what he has to say, there is a process to these kinds of things,“ Ozpin moved as if he had all the time in the world, “if he is found to be unsavory, he will be dealt with.”

“Always with the dramatics Ozpin,” Jaune wanted to snark more, but his position made it a bit difficult.

“Oh, so you are familiar with me, are you a Huntsman?” Ozpin took a sip of whatever he had in the mug, even after 20 years Jaune had never found out.

“In a way,” Jaune replied as Ozpin motioned for everyone to lower their weapons, “I never actually graduated from an academy, but yeah I’m classified as a huntsman.”

“I’m afraid I can’t remember your face, would you mind telling me your name?” Ozpin smiled his Ozpin smile, friendly, but somewhat disconcerting.

Jaune contemplated for a moment, then exhaled deeply causing his shoulder to sag before looking Ozpin straight in the eye, “my name is Jaune Arc.”

Silence. A beat, then all hell broke loose. A flurry of accusations, threats, and various swears were sent his way.

Glynda’s voice drowned out the other voices, gaining a handle on her students, she once again pointed her crop at Jaune staring him down, “I have little patience for games, if you continue to try my patience you will regret it. Where. Is. Jaune Arc.”

“I am Jaune Arc,” Jaune grabs onto the shaft of the crop returning her intense gaze.

“I’m afraid we are a bit reluctant to believe you, because while there is a Jaune Arc at this institution, he is undeniably a young boy, around the age of 17.” Ozpin gazed at the man over the rim of his glasses, who in turn met his eyes, “which you are obviously not.”

“Clearly. How bout some proof?” Jaune proposed, letting go of his grip in Glynda’s weapon, “I can prove I’m really Jaune Arc.”

“We’ll be the judge of that.” Nora spoke up, a sentiment of which all the other students present agreed on. Since the teachers had arrived she and the other students had calmed down, although clearly they were more than ready to lay into him.

“Okay, my name is Jaune Arc, when I was 17 I started attending Beacon Academy in Vale. I have seven sisters, never went to a combat school, and got into Beacon using fake transcripts.” Jaune gestured with his hands as if to ask if that was enough, “need more? Blake is a faunus, and uses her bow to hide it. When Pyrrha and I first met, she speared me to a wall, and again in initiation. Growing up I had a collection of lucky Pumpkin Pete’s hoodie, and the code word Nora and I agreed on to use in case of body snatchers, or mimics is. ‘Chrysanthemum.”

Nora gasped the biggest gasp to ever gasp, pointed at Jaune shouting, “Oh my god! It is Jaune!”

“Ozpin?” Jaune directed the unspoken question towards the headmaster.

“Hmmm, Miss Belladonna who is aware of your heritage?” Ozpin asked without looking at Blake.

Blake seemed surprised by the question, ‘uh, only my team, who told JNPR with my permission. And a student from Haven who is also a faunus.”

“Miss Nikos?”

“Ah. Uh. . .,” Pyrrha blushed slightly, and coughed into her hand, “Y-yes, I did spear him. His hoodie, I mean, of which he has a surplus.” She finished and opened a dresser, revealing a drawer full of identical black bunny hoodies.

“There, that fit the bill?” Jaune crossed his arms leaning against the wall, “or do I need to go into my family history?”

“How about Crocea Mors?” Ruby piped up, her eyes shift from person to person before settling on Jaune, “I mean, if you’re really Jaune you should have his sword. He told me it was a family heirloom.”

Leave it to Ruby to identify by weapon, “unfortunately I am no longer in possession of Crocea Mors, it was destroyed in a battle, sorry Ruby.” Jaune shrugged, “but that does give me an idea, Ruby do you remember when you first met me- er Jaune?”

“The day when we all arrived at Beacon on the bullheads?” Ruby tilted her head, finger on her chin thinking back, “the day Jaune puked on Yang’s shoes, and I exploded?”

“That’s the one,” Jaune pointed in affirmation, then pulled back his hand and looked at Yang, “Sorry about that. Again. But uh- do you remember how I introduced myself?”

“Yeah, he said ‘The names Jaune Arc, short sweet, rolls off the tongue. The ladies love it!” Ruby quoted, Jaune joining in and repeating the exact same words along with her.

This man so different from the boy she had met that day looked up at her and smiled, the same smile she had seen many times, “Then you asked if they really did, to which I said that they would, or at least I hoped. Then went on about some advice from my mom. We ended up lost, and had to backtrack to find the auditorium.”

“Oh. It- it is you.” Ruby was dumbstruck, not sure exactly how to feel about the revelation. She extended her hand to touch him, but stopped short, “but how? Why are you?”

“Old?” Jaune laughed, “if I had to guess I’m not actually your Jaune, but a Jaune from a point in the future in another timeline.”

“Future? Timeline?” Weiss spoke with a dissatisfied tone, “as in time travel?”

“Another timeline’ implies more than one, it sounds more like multi-verse theory,” Ren replied instead, “essentially a timelines exists for every possible difference, or outcome. Say one day Nora has a choice to eat pancakes or waffles. In one timeline, she chooses pancakes, in the another waffles. Both are equally valid timelines, the only difference being that choice.”

Nora oddly enough seemed to understand fairly well, while playfully smacking Ren on the back. Yang rubs her head in frustration, “so for every possible difference an entirely different timeline exists? Even stuff that doesn’t matter like breakfast food?”

“Breakfast most certainly does matter, it’s the most important meal of the day!” Nora interjecting a bit indignantly at Yang’s words.

“That’s why it’s called the many worlds theory,” Ozpin states swirling the contents of his mug idly, ”although I suppose it’s not much of a theory if this is true. I must say I surprised you’re familiar with the concept, Mr. Arc.”

“Multiverse plotlines are pretty common in comics,” Jaune replied making a bit of a show of being bashful, and clearing his throat.

“How can you be sure you’re from another timeline, and not the future of this present?” As nonplussed as usual, Blake’s even tone and expression helped to mellow the situation.

Jaune shrugging, and giving a small chuckle, “cause this didn’t happen in my timeline, if this was my timeline I’d remember it. In theory at least.”

“In theory, how would all this have happened?”

“I’m not exactly sure how, but I ended up in the bed of this timeline’s Jaune,” Jaune pressed his fist against his mouth in thought, “which doesn’t bode well for your Jaune if we switched places.”

A wave of fear spreads through the students present at this realization, before Jaune speaks again, “if he stays put he probably won’t get into too much trouble, provided he keep calm. But knowing me back then- uh now, he’ll be freaking out, and that might bring Creatures of Grimm to him.”

“We have to do something!”

Jaune spoke crossing his arms, face twisting into a grimace, “not much we can do, considering I don’t even know how I got here, or how I’ll be getting back.”

The fear circulating between the group, turned to dread, as looks were exchanged back and forth.

“Uh, what’s the date?” hoping to change the subject, Jaune drew the group’s attention elsewhere.

“Does it matter?”

“how long until the Vytal Festival?”

“A few weeks,” Glynda replies quickly, “the majority of the students from other kingdoms have begun to arrive.”

“So it hasn’t happened yet,” Jaune’s brow furrowed, “But the breach happened, and security control for the Festival was given to Ironwood, correct?”

“How do yo-“ Glynda began to ask shocked by the question.

“Yes.” Ozpin cut her off, “Roman Torchwick was apprehended and the causalities were kept to a minimum due to quick response of the combined forces of Vale’s huntsmen and huntresses, and the Atlas Military. Why is this significant?”

“Well in my timeline during the finals of the Vytal Festival Tournament, the matches are sabotaged, and a combined attack of the White Fang, Grimm and hacked Atlas machines destroys Beacon, and nearly does the same to Vale.” In that moment Jaune swore he could hear a pin drop, all eyes directed at him in shock.

“W-what?” Ruby squeaks out, taking a step towards Jaune, “is that really going to happen?”

“No way to know until it happens, or doesn’t. Who knows this timeline could be completely different,” Jaune shrugs, and then moves to stand up finally. “But at least considering the events of the Breach are the same, this timeline bears some similarities to mine.

“Whoa wait, isn’t you telling us this gonna like paradox or something?” Yang still reeling places her hands on Ruby’s shoulders.

“Nah, like I said this isn’t my timeline so any changes in this one isn’t going affect mine, probably” Jaune pats Ruby on the head, and grins.

“Do you have any actually proof that’s true?” Weiss asked, always the skeptic.

“Nope, but it’s already done, and we haven’t imploded, so no use worrying about it now,” Jaune waved his hand noncommittally. Weiss prickled in response, reared back about to point out how irresponsible that is.

Ozpin stepped forward directly in front of Jaune, “if it is not too much trouble I would like to hear more about this event.” “Of course not right now, if seems everyone could use some time to process this new information, and tidy themselves up,” the older man analyzing the man in front of him as he sipped away at his mug, “please drop by my office when you feel like continuing.”

“Can do. But yeah should probably let everyone get out of their pajamas at least,” Jaune gestures to his friends still in their sleepwear, with their bed-head.

[andrea-lyn]

Dunno if I’m doing this right but, a malex prompt: Michael did go to UNM but lost Alex the same way. Ten years later, they meet again in Roswell.

After Rosa dies and Michael takes the blame for it, he sees the way Isobel looks at him. Guilt and sympathy and a bundle of other emotions that he’s not sure he can deal with, and it never stops. “I can’t stay,” he tells Max one night, even though things are tense between them, on the cusp of Rosa’s funeral. “I can’t take the way she looks at me, Max.”

“Isobel needs us,” Max says sharply.

“If I stay, I’m gonna end up telling her,” Michael admits, and as bad as it’ll be to abandon Isobel and Max in the middle of this, he knows if he stays and Isobel finds out, it’ll be so much worse. “She’s got you. You’re the ones with the connection and maybe for a little while, it’s better if I get out of here, before I break and tell her what happened. I’m not saying I’m going forever, but I can’t stay.”

Max doesn’t look like he has the energy or the argument to convince him otherwise. He’s giving up his dream to go travel, but then, he didn’t decide to cover up a murder and earn his sister’s crushing sympathy for it.

“It’s not the first time you two were on your own. You were fine last time, too,” Michael says, trying to ignore every stinging pain that says that they don’t need him. “I’ll go to UNM,” he shrugs. “That way, I can come back every once in a while to visit. It’s a good cover, but it gives me the space I need.”

“Michael…”

“This isn’t a reward,” he guarantees, lest Max think that somehow Michael is giving himself an out. Alex is gone, Isobel thinks he killed those girls, and Max will barely look at him. There’s nothing in him for Roswell and at least if he goes to school, he might actually be good at something.

Max still looks like he isn’t convinced.

“You better come back.”

“Four years, maximum,” he vows.

He keeps true to his promise, even if he doesn’t exactly follow the normal course most students do. Four years later, he hasn’t taken a semester off and he’s loaded up on extra classes, taking night ones in addition. For all that he could have a social life, he ignores it to throw himself into school because he discovers that equations, like music, can quiet his mind.

Three years later, Michael Guerin returns to Roswell with a PhD in astrophysics and his engineers’ ring for mechanical engineering (dabbling in chemical because he needs the challenge). For a while, he teaches at the high school and moonlights at the junkyard, but then he starts hearing whispers that the government’s secretly looking into aliens through an unauthorized project.

That’s when Michael decides that “hold your enemies closer” is sound advice and puts in a job application when they start hiring science geeks.

He’s been consulting with the Air Force for two years now, with only one solid rule. He avoids Jesse Manes at all costs, even though it’s been almost ten years since the incident in the tool shed.  

He’s not sure he could avoid being arrested if he’s within four feet of the man, because his fucked up hand speaks of a lot of history, but Alex Manes’ absence from Roswell tells the rest of that story. Michael knows that Alex hadn’t decided to leave all on his own, that Jesse was the little angel and devil on his shoulder for that conversation.

Alex has been in his head a lot, lately. With Isobel talking non-stop about the ten year reunion (and Michael is just so glad that she’ll speak to him, that she looks at him and he doesn’t see sympathy in her eyes anymore), Michael can’t stop thinking about Alex.

It’s practically fate, then, what happens when he shows up to Foster Ranch to work, a few days before the reunion.

They’ve been setting up for a few tests while they work to get zoning permission on the new facility and they want Michael testing the ground and the area and he takes special notice in the tests that are being ordered by Master Sergeant Manes, looking for strange materials in the earth.

He’ll swap out the test results for some fake ones, keep the real specimens, but even now he feels smugly right that he’d made the right call taking this job. At least, he feels pretty good until he sees some of the new guys in Roswell hovering around his trailer.

The one rule of a site - stay away from Doctor Guerin’s shit, or get what’s coming to you.

“Hey!” he snaps, annoyed that a new bunch of recruits are traipsing around on his territory. He gives the CO an annoyed look, but he shrugs as if he can’t be held accountable for what these kids do, which means Michael needs to deal with this himself. “That’s my lab, you’re going to contaminate the…”

He yanks at the soldier’s arm, but when he turns him around, it’s Alex Manes.

Shit.

“Alex…”

They stare at each other for a long time. He knows all about Alex’s accident, knows about the IED, knows about his leg. He’d managed to get the reports with his clearance and while he’d begged for an assignment that brought him over there, they’d kept him here in Roswell to clear the land for their new facility, citing his desire to be close to family.

It figures that would bite him in the ass when he’d wanted to go after the only other family that mattered.

“This is yours?” Alex asks, pointing to the trailer.

“I mean, it belongs to the good ol’ US government,” Michael says, leaning forward to open the door so he can reveal the lab inside. He’s running the tests they’ve been asking for (chem tests, soil tests, and helping to plan the site), but he’s also using the opportunity to sneak in at night and get pieces off Foster Ranch.

It’s all kinds of win-win-win here.

“I didn’t know you’d be here today,” Alex admits. “I heard you were working with us…”

“Yeah?” Michael has had countless fantasies about what it’d be like to run into Alex again, but standing on a work site surrounded by coworkers hadn’t been in the list. He thinks that the CO would get a little pissed off if Michael backed Alex against the trailer and made out with him for the next forty minutes. “High school physics got boring, plus the job at the junkyard doesn’t exactly pay very well.”

He doesn’t think he should say, I’ve been waiting for you, I keep waiting for you to walk into a meeting room and be on my project, I’ve been needing to see you again.

Here he is, as large as life, and twice as handsome as Michael remembers him being.

“I heard you got your doctorate. I meant to send a card, but we were in the middle of the desert and…”

“It’s okay,”  Michael promises. “You don’t have to apologize, it’s just a piece of paper.”

From the proud look on Alex’s face, he clearly doesn’t think so. He’s felt this before. With Max and Isobel, he’d felt it, that gut-punch of pride when he feels so happy of his accomplishments and no matter the dark sins of his past, he’s proven that he can be something.

The moment draws on, but it doesn’t feel awkward. If anything, it’s heated, the two of them staring at each other while the world around them shrinks.

“Are you going to the reunion?” Michael asks, when the silence between them starts to feel heavy and Michael starts to think about doing things other than talking again.

“I was thinking about it, but it felt a little like adult prom to me and my history with that isn’t so great,” Alex answers over his shoulder, but he doesn’t fully turn around. “You?”

“I was waiting to see if I could find a date. I don’t know,” Michael admits, heart pounding in his chest. “Isobel’s planning it, so I probably have to go no matter what. I said I’d help with the slideshow, so…”

“It could be fun,” Alex offers.

That moment is back and the heavy heat between them with it. Michael forces himself to look at Alex’s uniform so he doesn’t do something stupid like haul him inside the research lab and break all the samples by pushing him to the table. Alex looks like he’s considering things of his own, his eyes clearly on Michael’s lips.

“I should get back,” Alex finally admits, though he sounds weirdly disappointed. “I’m just here to help see the sale of the site through, I need to be back on base.” He lingers, again, like he’s waiting for Michael to say something.

Michael wishes someone had handed him a script or something, because he’s lost.

With one last shrug, Alex turns to start making his way out, leaning heavy on his crutch as Michael watches him go.

“You’re the stupidest genius I know,” the CO mutters as he walks past, shaking his head. “Or did they not teach you Romance at UNM?”

“Fuck off,” Michael hisses, which will probably get him a reprimand later, but it does do the trick of spotlighting the very big elephant in the room he’d been missing. The reunion, the hesitation, Alex’s waiting and disappointment…

“Hey!” Michael shouts after Alex, before he can get back in the car. Capitalizing on his courage, not caring how many people are around them, he keeps going, figuring in for a penny, in for a kiloton. “You wanna be my date to adult prom? I figure, I’m this published astrophysicist with a pretty sweet gig,” he says, with a casual shrug, “I might be able to hold my own against a decorated airman.”

Alex hasn’t fully turned around, but he’s smiling a little, lips curved upwards.The sun catches him perfectly, making his skin seem to glow, more beautiful than any alien piece Michael’s hiding in his bunker.

Michael tries not to think about how he’s asked Alex in front of a shitload of people and given their history, that might be a bad idea.

Lucky for him, history isn’t repeating itself. “Pick me up at six,” Alex says over his shoulder. “I expect you in a suit, Dr. Guerin,” he adds, and even from here, Michael can see the way Alex licks his lips, like the image of Michael in a suit in his head is tasty in and of itself.

He picks Alex up at six in a suit, and he’s got a corsage with him.

“Happy adult prom, huh?” Alex jokes.

Pinning it to Alex’s flannel (because the bastard made Michael dress up and then didn’t himself), he thinks he’ll figure out some fair revenge later. “Only if we end the night better than it did ten years ago.”

“I think that can be arranged.”

[ilcaeryx]

Tenacity: Chapter 1 - Inhibition [Amajiki Tamaki/Reader]

SUMMARY: Tamaki's isolated himself in his apartment for almost a week. It's almost guaranteed that it's his anxiety flaring up… but it doesn't hurt to check up on him.

TAGS: Reader-Insert Collection, Anxiety, Social Isolation

Link to Chapter 1 of Tenacity on AO3

or continue reading below.

Chapter 1: Inhibition

'Amajiki Tamaki' read the nameplate by the door.

So this is where he lives.

Finding Tamaki's home had been tricky as it was in the middle of an expanding apartment complex located in a (for you) foreign part of the city. In this complex his apartment was simply one of many, a single leaf in a blooming bush. For this reason it felt like this was somewhere he would enjoy living, anonymously. However, living in the corner apartment on the first floor was perhaps a bit too exposed for him, considering that all his blinders were drawn shut.

You rang the bell and took a step back.

At least five days had passed since Tamaki had last spoken to you; after day two of pushing up the hard task to send you a message saying his vacation had started and he was available, he understood that too much time had passed already and that he should wait until the weekend to contact you. That's when you usually texted or called him, anyway. It had felt alright until he'd logged into his social media account a few days later. After the 5 notifications bubble popped up on his phone, panic and guilt bit into him. Reading them was unnecessary, because he knew what they said and who the sender was. Therefore, the immediate response was to turn off the sound on his phone and camp in his apartment.

His food reservoir was a mismatched mix that one possibly couldn't make anything edible out of. Not that he could make food at the moment, since he was certain that his neighbours would overhear him if he cooked too loudly, showered with the water current too strong or walked too harshly on the floor. One morning he had been making a pretty elaborate breakfast, cut short after one neighbour banged on the wall in the living room. He abruptly turned off the rice cooker and conformed himself with something simpler and quieter. He felt bad that his neighbours had to deal with him.

Today he was too agitated to move around, so he didn't do much other than game and eat leftovers. That's why both his dishes weren't washed and he kind of neglected. He'd take a shower on Sunday, when he'd probably see you. Right now, he just wanted to disappear into his book. It was a quiet evening spent on his couch and nothing could bother him.

Every evening used to be peaceful, but then his neighbours became hypersensitive to any and every sound he made.

The door bell ringing was how he was reminded of their existense. With deliberate, fluid movements he laid down the book on the couch and slipped down onto the floor. He made his way to the door in complete silence.

Okay, Tamaki is a total homebody. There's no way he isn't home.

It wasn't the first time this had happened, though all other times he had ignored you had been on social media. Him not opening messages and such. If it hadn't been for Mirio giving you a heads up about it, you might've taken it personally. After all, the two of you had been a couple for a few months now. You were grateful that Mirio felt involved enough in Tamaki's life to warn you about his these incidents, which you were told had occasionally taken place since their U.A. days.

Your take-away was getting cold and you were honestly getting worried. Your phone showed no missed calls or messages. There was always the option to call him and get a confirmation whether he was home or not by listening for the ring tone inside… but you thought that it would force him further into his shell. If he didn't answer you also wouldn't find out how he was doing. What if he had fainted in the shower and was bleeding out? The mental images of possible ways someone could die inside their home grew incrementally worse and you nervously fiddled with your phone.

Just this time, it wouldn't be strange if you excused yourself into his home. Right?

You tried opening the door. It's 2019, who would ever leave their door unlocked? Of course it was locked. Goddamn.

There is no one outside, you thought as you surveyed your surroundings and went around the corner. It would be okay this one time. No one would judge you for doing this. In the back of your mind you kind of remembered some law about entering someone's home unauthorized if there were health concerns, which was enough motivate you to try. See, one window in the back was slightly cracked open. While fully opening the window it occurred to you that this was your debut into Tamaki's home.

You slid in between the window and the blinders into Tamaki's kitchen, sitting on top of a dining table. The room was pretty cramped, a small cupboard on the left side wall and the usual kitchen appliances on the right. It was directly connected to the hall, where you could see the exterior door. As you shut the window a foul, thick smell of humidity and old food struck you, so you opened it again.

"Tamaki, it's me," you called out and jumped down on the floor.

Tamaki popped his head out from what you assumed was the bathroom, wearing complicated emotions on his face. "Y/N?"

"Yeah, I can explain this. I, uh, just wanted to see how you were doing." You raised the take-away bag to eye level. "I brought you food."

Like a snail retracting into its shell, he withdrew into the bathroom and shut the door. "I'll hear you out… after I've taken a shower."

"Do it. I'll wait."

You did and Tamaki emerged from the shower, clean and warm, five minutes later. He awkwardly walked into the kitchen, dressed in sweatpants and an overgrown hoodie, clearly avoiding looking at the dish mountain. Instead he raided a kitchen drawer for chopsticks and sat down together with you. Tamaki opened the box and dug in without mercy or any semblance of modesty.

You leaned back on you chair. "This is the first time I have ever forced myself into someone's home, by the way. Don't arrest me for that, I'm pretty sure I acted in accordance to the law. I thought something had happened."

"While I appreciate the sentiment," he answered between bites, "you scared the living daylights out of me. I thought you were a thief at first. It could've ended nasty if I had been eating well."

"What do you mean?"

He raised his eyebrows and looked at you solemnly. "I can't manifest crackers…"

"Is that what you've been eating? That's student level of food."

"It wasn't by choice." Tamaki said curtly and took a sip of water.

You bit your lip and nodded softly. The fact that he had ignored your messages and calls still bothered you, even though you somewhat understood the circumstances. You didn't want to be bothersome about it; you imagined that it would embarrass him greatly should you bring it up. It wasn't by choice, like he had said. Still, you thought that there should be some accountability on his part.

"We've known each other for a while now, but I didn't know you had it this… hard to reach out to people. When we weren't together," you sputtered out, unused to bringing it up, "it was an inconvenience. Now I actually get worried - and it's not just me. Mirio and even Hadou have asked if I had heard from you."

Tamaki tensed his shoulders. "Both of them should understand by now; we went through this in high school. I don't know. I just start to feel cornered when I get bombarded by messages. I don't particularly want to be around people when I'm that paranoid."

"I'd never force you to do something you don't want. I think that you should at least text me back. You don't even need to read what I've sent you if it is too much. Knowing you're alive is enough."

He seemed more interested in his food than in answering. You couldn't force him to answer and you didn't have anything more to inquire. This was a conversation for another day, hopefully. You let him eat in peace. At least for a while.

"You know," you began and casually stole a piece of meat from box, "I've known you for two years and you've never invited me here before. Have you lived here since we first met?"

After some consideration he nodded with a sharp movement. "For almost five years."

You ate your piece and instantly regretted not buying a portion of your own. Licking your fingers, you kept overwatch on his food while he gingerly picked and chose, his bangs covering his face.

"Like, I thought you still lived with your parents since you refused to even give me an adress,"

Tamaki choked. He covered his mouth with his hand and coughed violently enough to rack his entire body. You shot up to get him some water but he held you back with his hand as you were walking past him to the dish bench. He got himself a glass from the unwashed pile. Poor guy probably didn't have any clean ones.

As he drank you re-settled into your chair, cautiously. He poured himself another glass and wiped his eyes with his sleeve before returning to the table.

"I just enjoy my privacy," he commented, rather dryily, before digging in again with reluctance. Probably terrified of you dropping another bomb like that and him choking for real this time. Suneater dying by eating sukiyaki.

"You can thank Mirio for giving me your adress. He's been worried too."

"I'll thank him in person."

"I think he'd appreciate a quick message from you ASAP."

Tamaki stopped his chopsticks half-way to his mouth and raised his eyes to look at you, sadness pulling at the edges. "You can't thank someone who's looking out for you with a simple message. I'll go see him in a few days and thank him in person." His eyes shifted slightly and he cast his gaze downwards. "I'll try to, anyway."

That's an admirable outlook, you thought to yourself as he somewhat self-consciously finished his food. Thanking someone for helping you out was very humbling, in particular when independent people such as Tamaki are caught between problems. But as the old adage goes, no man is an island. If you ever needed help, you knew you could count on Tamaki - and Mirio for that matter. No question about it. If he didn't message Mirio by the time you were returning home, you'd send a text to Mirio yourself, though.

Breathing deeply, Tamaki put his chopsticks down into his box and quickly grabbed your hands, his fingers squishing your fingers against his palms. Warmth emanated from his hands and his face seemed a lot less paler when he smiled weakly at you.

"Thank you, Y/N. I would've starved if you hadn't arrived today."

Your thumbs caressed the insides of his wrists, sweeping over the bumpy texture of veins and muscles.

"I'll break into your apartment anytime, babe."

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