#but damn. five MILLISECONDS??? that's the difference that i can hear? sometimes?

[coquelicoq]

the onset of voicing in the /b/ and /p/ phonemes are different in french than in english which is why french p's sometimes sound like b's to me, but for some reason i have not been able to replicate this yet in my own speech except in the word "père". pretty solid on pronouncing père, not at all on pronouncing any other word with a p in it. baby steps i guess.

[perriewinklenerdie]

Married (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Claire Herondale

Word count: 2,4 k

Summary: Parts of Ines’s wedding told from Ethan’s perspective feat. E&C dancing, staring at each other during the wedding, basically being a married couple and everyone calling them out for it. OH3 Chapter 11 added content.

Warnings: None, it’s fluff town all the way

A/N: I feel scammed by PB. All the golden opportunities - wasted. So I fixed it.

His shoes sank a bit in the sand as he began walking towards the venue. More and more people were beginning to arrive, sounds of conversation and laughter increasing by the minute. He recognized his coworkers with ease and approached them. The first to notice him is Tobias, his eyebrow arching slightly at the sight of him.

“You came alone? Where’s Herondale?” he asked, looking over Ethan’s shoulder to search for the blonde resident.

“She helped me fix my tie, then kicked me out of our room. And refused to let me see the dress.” He explained, shrugging with a helpless laugh. Harper laughed along with him, clapping her hands gently.

“That’s wife behavior. Are you sure you two aren’t married?”

“Dude, if you two eloped, I’m not going to be working out with you anymore.” Bryce chimed in, acting as though he was offended, a serious look overtaking his face.

“Where would you- why would you- “ Ethan started stumbling over his words, realizing only after a moment that everyone was smirking at him teasingly. He huffed, fighting a blush that creeped onto his cheeks anyway. “I see. You all think you’re funny.”

“You make it too easy, Ethan.” Harper giggled, shaking her head.

“And we know we’re funny, Ethan.” His mentor put his hand on his shoulder sympathetically.

“Hilarious, even.” Baz added.

A small sound of an incoming message caused everyone to stop talking. Sienna unlocked her phone, her eyes scanning the screen.

“Claire just texted me a photo of her in a dress.”

Immediately, everyone jumped to her side, long before Ethan could even move his finger. Once he woke up from the daze, he took a step towards the young doctor that he considered his friend. Zaid stopped him in his tracks with a hand pressed to his shoulder.

“She said to not let you see the photo.”

“Why?”

Her voice rang from behind him. “I wanted to see your reaction myself.”

Ethan turned around and, at once, his breath caught in his throat. His gaze dropped to her shoes and dragged up her body slowly. The gentle flow of her skirt, pink silk that he knew for sure would almost spill through his fingers. The bodice, snug against her chest, accentuating her curves and making his male brain run wild. Careful to not linger on her chest too long – he would not get crap from their friends for this – he finally looked at her face. She was grinning smugly with a bit of a nervous spark.

He stepped up to her, resting his hand on the dip of her waist, tracing the floral patterns under his touch. With his other hand, he grasped hers in a gentle manner, raising it to press a warm kiss to her fingers.

“You’re taking my breath away.” he muttered, staring at her intensely.

“Hypoxia is dangerous, maybe I should go.” Claire teased, leaning away a fraction of an inch. He immediately pushed on her back to stop her, their personal spaces merging.

“Not having you by my side is fatal.” He dropped his voice to a low rumble, her grin melting into the soft smile. Their lips met in a slow kiss, no heat to it, just pure emotions.

They remained like that for a prolonged moment, his hands carefully pressing her to his chest. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, making their bodies move in a swaying motion.

Jackie burst their bubble. “You, lovebirds, the brides are about to arrive, cut it out.”

Ethan pressed his lips to Claire’s one last time, then leaned away. Their noses brushed against one another as their eyes met. He whispered gently. “I’ll come find you after the ceremony.”

She pecked his cheek sweetly. “Can’t wait.”

--

He wasn’t particularly a fan of weddings. He wasn’t invited to a lot of them, either. If combined with his dislike for big social gatherings, one would come to the conclusion that Ethan Ramsey was miserable right in that moment.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

As Ines and Angie exchange vows and talk about their love for each other, his eyes find Claire. Sitting in her chair across the aisle, she’s holding Sienna’s hand and passing her a tissue. She’s all anyone could ever ask for, and the mere sight of her makes him fall down into the void of memories.

How far he’s come as a person. A cynic that dreaded what a new year would bring along with a new batch of interns. A man that had only two people in his life that he could call friends. A man that went to the bar every night to forget the day behind him, only to go back to his empty apartment. All of that was so long ago that he barely recognized that version of himself anymore. He was so different now.

He smiled more. Laughed, even, and found that he didn’t find stupid jokes Lahela made all the time half as annoying as he once did. He didn’t spend every waking moment at work. Instead, he enjoyed his time off. Still at a bar, but not to drink away his worries. Not alone – not anymore.

Now, he had someone to come home to.

Claire shook her head as she laughed at what Zaid said and Ethan’s heartbeat quickened. They grew together as people too, and along with that, their relationship evolved.

From the night they spent together in the NICU, when her head slowly fell onto his shoulder and he couldn’t find a single cell in his body to tell him to lean away. Because he wanted her to be close. It was the first moment in which he thought that maybe this brilliant woman was meant to be more to him than just an intern – and right after that, he squashed the idea back down.

Every hold of her hand, every silent sign of support, he cherished it all. Unknowingly falling deeper for the woman that would become the center of his universe before he realized what was happening.

Their kiss in Miami would be at the forefront of his mind in his every living second until he kissed her again. Growing stronger with each time his resolve broke and their lips met, softly or with wild abandonment.

The first time he could call her his – the first time he had her to himself. He knew in that moment that he was ruined for everyone else. No one would ever make him feel that way, ever again. He knew it damn well – and yet, he still fought against it.

Absence makes heart grow fonder. He now knew it was true. Months he spent away from her, keeping her at arm’s length, taught him as much. How could he deny those words when the moment he pulled her closer to him outside his apartment and their lips touched, he felt his mind go blank and his heart stop. He vowed to never let her leave again. To never lose her.

And then he almost did.

The thought alone made his muscles spasm, and he was a millisecond away from running to her side, just to feel her warmth and hear her heartbeat. Leaving her side now, even if only for a moment, even to do their job, caused a silent voice to go off in his head. A wave of panic usually followed, staying with him until he saw her again.

Thankfully, nowadays, she was within his reach most of the time. She never asked why he sometimes needed to pull her close and just hold onto her – she knew.

He felt the corners of his lips rise on their own accord. She was radiant in every second of every day. In that moment, she was the most beautiful person there. The idea that it was him that she continuously chose to be with, day after day, only made him smile wider.

This was it for him. He found his one and only, as cliché as that sounded – he knew it for sure. Guess weddings really did make people reflect on love after all.

Ethan was very much aware of how lovestruck he must have been looking in that moment. With his eyes on Claire, he was a picture of a man in love – and he was finally ready to admit that he was. He loved her.

Almost as though she could hear his thoughts, she turned around to look at him. Their eyes met and a brilliant smile bloomed on her face. His lips moved as he mouthed the words, her smile becoming gentler.

“I’m yours.”

She mouthed it right back to him.

--

Music wasn’t as obnoxious as he anticipated it to be. That didn’t, of course, mean that he condoned every dance move he saw the guests do. He decided to not complain, though – it was a day to be happy, he wouldn’t bring anyone down with his opinion on their questionable choices of moves.

Currently, he was seated by the table, nursing his whiskey. Mirani twins, Tobias and Naveen sat beside him, all five men watching their colleagues party with wine glasses in their hands.

“How long, do you think, will it take for one of them to break a glass?” Baz asked, leaning out of his seat to see his friends better. Zaid grinned, taking a sip of his drink.

“Any second now. And my bet is on Varma.”

“Why?” Tobias’s face twisted in confusion as he turned towards him, intrigued. Zaid shrugged.

“Because she can.”

Ethan tuned their conversation out, choosing instead to look at his girlfriend. She danced with Sienna, laughing as they sang along to the song. Her dress moved with her, flowing through the air elegantly. He felt the urge to stand up and walk up to her.

“Ramsey, you do know you can just walk up to her instead of sitting here and pining for her, right?” Tobias snickered, punching Ethan’s shoulder playfully. He scoffed, leaning away with a hint of a burn in his cheeks.

“I’m not pining for her.”

“You are.” All four of his companions replied.

He was so distracted by their words that he failed to notice an approaching form. Her hand landed on his shoulder softly, the tips of her nails scratching the back of his neck. Knowing who it was, he leaned into her touch, breathing out deeply.

“Sorry, gentlemen, but I’m stealing him.” she mused happily, dragging her hand down his arm until her fingers tangled with his. Ethan let her pull her up, looping his arm around her waist.

“Stealing is bad, Herondale.” Tobias shot back, moving his eyebrows suggestively at the couple. Claire opened her mouth to speak, but Ethan beat her to the punch.

“She can’t steal something that’s already hers.” He grinned at them, then turned towards her. Claire’s jaw dropped in surprise at his boldness, her posture softening enough for him to pull her away from the table, smirking. Faintly, he heard Tobias’s words.

“Married. For sure.”

Ethan’s arms wrapped around her, fingers hooked onto her hipbones. She threw her arms around his neck, staring up at him with a soft smile. A slow song began playing and one look at where the DJ was situated told them who was behind this change. Ines grinned at them, giving them thumbs up and a cheeky wink.

“Is it just me, or is everyone trying to tell us something?” Claire giggled, nuzzling her nose against his jaw. He kissed her nose gently.

“So, you noticed it too?”

“Kinda hard not to. Girls said we’re acting like a married couple at least twice today.” she traced the lapel of his jacket, laughing quietly at the recognition in his eyes.

“Guys did it too.” Ethan muttered, tightening his hold on her. She laid her head on his shoulder.

“And how does that make you feel?”

He was silent for a long while. They swayed to the song, tuning out everything else. To her surprise, he didn’t tense up – nothing about his posture spelled out the doubts he once told her he had.

“Not as terrified as it did before.”

Claire leaned back to look at him. Their eyes met, tender understanding in them. Ethan leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss, perfectly soft and not nearly deep enough. She clutched his lapel in her fist, creasing the fabric with how strong her pull was. His fingers dug into her back, skipping past the coarser material of her bodice and gripping the soft silk of her skirt. A voice in the back of his head told him to loosen up the hold or he’ll mark the fabric, but the overwhelming need he felt for her overshadowed everything else and he couldn’t bring himself to let her go.

The song ended and with it, their kiss. Foreheads pressed together, they caught their breath, standing in the middle of the dancefloor. Blissfully unaware of how much attention they gathered with their tender moment.

Ethan opened his eyes and finally allowed his mind to register the music again. Some sort of a fast tune that made people around them go mad. His girlfriend stared at him with an unspoken question, and he got the meaning perfectly well.

With a definite move, he dipped her onto the floor. She giggled, the sound breaking through the loud music to reach his ears. Ethan smirked, throwing her back into his arms. With his lips against her ear, he mused hotly.

“I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

Her leg wrapped around his thigh, pushing their bodies closer. His voice broke off and his breath shuddered at the way their bodies clashed and the suggestive smirk she sent his way. His hand fell to her ass, all inhibitions gone.

“Ethan!” she exclaimed, laughing at the carefree smile he gave her. He moved his hand a bit, albeit begrudgingly.

“Can you blame me? You’re irresistible.” He muttered, kissing the shell of her ear. Claire hummed, then twirled out of his hold and back into it, jumping into his arms with her legs wrapped around his hips. Ethan groaned deeply in his throat, making her smirk.

“I have a few tricks up my sleeve too.”

Notes

This is a part 2 to the Mile High Club fic. As I said, PB could have made the chapter so good with all the wedding themes that I’d lose my wig. Writers apparently don’t know how to do basic research into fiction themes, but that’s okay (kinda). It just means I have more material to work with.

Round two smut is coming soon. 

Thank you for reading! <3

Tagging separately

[the-lady-writes-what]

Nightclub, Hero Edition

                                                 —080—

Post-break-up partying isn’t really your style, but when your friends drag you out to the nightclub, you don’t really have much of a say. You’re standing in line waiting to get in when a shiny sports car pulls up. Who should get out but Ground Zero and Mind Jack. The underground hero, Mind Jack (Hitoshi Shinsou), spots you in the crowd and keeps his eye on you all night. Evidently, so does his friend, Katsuki Bakugo. After a surprise run in with your ex, Neito Monoma, Hitoshi and Katsuki show off to Monoma how the two of them together can please you better than he ever could.

Katsuki Bakugo and Hitoshi Shinsou x Reader

All minor characters are aged up. I do not write minor x adult fiction.

                                                    —080—

Contents: public sex, voyeurism, threesome, fingering, light hair pulling, praise kink, double penetration, overstimulation

“The hell you mean, you can’t go?” Katsuki glared at his friend.

His fists clenched at his sides. One day out of the week out of the entire month. He had one night to blow off some steam, and there was nobody who could back him up. Eijiro nervously rubbed the back of his neck.

“Look, man, I’d love to, but I already made plans. Maybe you could find another wingman?”

“What’d you say? You think I’m gonna take some shitty extra with me on my one night off? I bust my balls every damn day for this freakin’ city, and I can’t even get my best wingman with me?”

Pro-hero work wasn’t what he expected it to be. Sure, he had the money, the clout, and the entourage of girls (and sometimes dudes) who fought each other for a millisecond of his time.

“Mina’s been planin’ this thing for weeks now. I can’t just back out now,” said Eijiro.

Katsuki’s eyes flitted to someone else in the group. Denki felt the immediate power of Katsuki’s anger in one glance. Denki threw his hands up in that universal sign of surrender.

“Don’t look at me, dude. I’m on duty that night. Besides, maybe if you weren’t into kinky shit—”

Katsuki slammed his palm on the table. A silent threat to blow it up. His face screwed up into that gremlin mask he wore when he was extra obnoxious. But at a closer look, one could barely see the tinge of red in his cheeks.

“When I need your opinion, Spark Plug, I’ll ask for it!” Katsuki grabbed his drink and started angrily draining it as he slouched in his chair.

“What if I called Shinsou?” Denki offered.

“Why’d I do a stupid thing like that?”

“Because you’d be surprised about how much you and Shinsou have in common?” Denki was already scrolling through his phone as if looking for something. “He doesn’t patrol on Saturdays, and he’s single. What’s the worse thing that could happen?”

Katsuki growled while Denki texted. Denki’s phone pinged every time Shinsou sent a response. Denki put his phone into Katsuki’s face.

“See? Looks like he’s down for it!”

Katsuki swatted Denki’s hand away. Chewing on his straw, he was forced to choke down his pride. He had only a few words with Shinsou, and he didn’t like the guy. He didn’t like many people either, but did he have much a choice if everybody else was bailing on him? It wasn’t as much fun all by oneself.

“J-Just, tell him to meet me at Supernova. Nine o’clock sharp, and he better not show up in a shitty outfit either.”

This outfit wasn’t your idea. Your friends put you in those skimpy little jean shorts and a pink midriff-baring top just as they put you up to come out tonight. You’d rather watch Netflix in bed wearing a comfy hoodie. Would you be stuffing your face with your favorite ice cream? Yes. Going out to nightclubs with your girlfriends and drinking away, your sorrows wasn’t usually how to get over a break-up. You are a fully grown woman and wanted to decide how best to get over a two-year-long relationship. You really should have thought of that before you got friends.

Two of the four girls dragging out into the night after dollying you up were already tipsy. Pre-game partying, they call it. You’d literally rather be anywhere but out tonight.

The five of you wait in line for fifteen minutes waiting to get in. A flashy red car pulls up and parks. You watch with scrutinizing eyes who steps out. Camera phones are flashing in the vehicle’s direction as soon as the passengers exit. You recognized the blonde by his scowl. Ground Zero. But the other one? You have no idea. He looks like the underground hero, Mind Jack, but since there were so few pictures of him on the internet, you couldn’t be sure. Fangirls screamed and pressed against the velvet ropes as the gentlemen sauntered up to the front of the line. You craned your next in time to see Bakugo flash a VIP pass, which permitted him and his friend early entrance into the nightclub. Just before they went in, Mind Jack looked down the line of those waiting before his eyes landed on you. You flush red as he glanced at you and gave you a knowing smirk. Mind Jack quickly followed behind Bakugo into the nightclub.

Your friends stared and asked incessant questions. They had less of an idea who Bakugo was bringing with him, but they all seemed to agree that he was hot. You couldn’t deny the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. There was something about his penetrating glance that made your insides warm and fuzzy.

You were to wait another twenty minutes before even getting inside to find out why you caught his attention. Half your friends went to the bar while the other half tried to drag you out onto the dance floor. You barely managed to escape and find your own secluded spot at the bar where your other friends couldn’t see you. Your only drink for the night was going to be that bottle of beer, and that was it. Exciting, no, but you planned to arrive home mostly sober enough to binge watch that new romantic comedy until daybreak and avoid going home with a complete stranger. Anonymous sex just wasn’t your type of post-break-up healing routine.

You stood against the wall watching other people have their fun. The music was something you could probably dance to, but maybe after you finished sipping your beer. As you scrolled through your social media after becoming bored with people-watching, you suddenly looked up. You could not escape the sensation of someone watching you. You glanced around the nightclub in a panic then settled on the cause of your anxiety. Indigo eyes were eating you up from across the dance floor. He was seated in a VIP lounge with Bakugo. His friend seemed more interested in talking than he was, which suited him just fine as it allowed him to stare at you.

A shiver ran down your spine. Mind Jack couldn’t want anything from you, could he? You thought about all the girls your ex-boyfriend compared you to. You were too prudish, and when you did have sex, you weren’t all that adventurous. You wanted to like sex just like everybody else did. Whether it was you or your partners, you couldn’t tell. You sipped your beer, chiding yourself.

This is a mistake. I should just check out and go home.

You almost turned to find one of your friends when Mind Jack caught your eye again. You glanced up at him to see Mind Jack whispering something to Bakugo. He had his hand cupping his mouth so you couldn’t tell what he was saying. Not that it made a difference at any rate with the club’s pulsing, beating music thrumming in your ears. To your shock, Bakugo turned his red eyes towards you.

You couldn’t help swallowing hard and downed the rest of your drink. You thought it best to sneak away and grab one of your friends before you did something silly and out of character. You tiptoed unto the dance floor, brushing past gyrating, sweating bodies. Two of your friends joined the others dancing and didn’t even hear you calling out to them. A pair of strong hands reached out and touched your waist.

“At least let me talk to you before you start running for the hills.” A voice said next to your ears.

You gulped again. You never heard this voice before but felt its timber shoot pleasure all the way down your spine. You felt the warmth of his body pressing against you.

“Um,” you licked your lips. “I’ve never done this before. I-I don’t really go out to clubs.”

“Relax. I’m not going to bite.” The stranger spun you around to face him.

You faced those indigo eyes up close and personal. This close, you could see the dark shadows beneath his eyes. He was pale beneath the strobe lights.

“Unless you’re into that sort of thing,” he chuckled.

“Are you, are you at least going to give me a name before you try to dance with me?” You stammered.

“Mind Jack, but you can call me Hitoshi.”

“Is it safe for you to give me your real name? Being an underground hero and all?” You asked.

“Let’s just say I’m very comfortable getting to you. How about you give me your name, or else I’ll start calling you kitty.”

Your face turned beet red, and it wasn’t because of the alcohol you just finished off. Shinsou pulled you close to him so that your bodies pressed together.

“Y-Y/N L/N. I’m Y/N L/N.”

“Well, L/N, can I have this dance?”

“S-Sure,” you answered.

Hitoshi lowered his hands to your hips and looked for permission. You laced your arms on his shoulders and nodded. Throughout the first song, you apologized for not knowing how to dance and stepping on his toes. Hitoshi squeezed your hips, and you couldn’t deny how his hand felt on you. Your lower belly was full of butterflies at this point. You wondered if a single bottle was all it took to make you lose all inhibitions. You were lost in your own thoughts as well as Shinsou’s burning gaze when a voice pulled you out of your reverie.

“Mind if I cut in?”

You knew that voice. It couldn’t be. Could it?

You were spun around landed in the chest of none other than Katsuki Bakugo, Ground Zero himself. Your face turned a brighter shade of red. Your body moved parallel to his as the music pulsed in your ears. Katsuki’s hands wandered to your lower back and hip as he pulled you close. He leaned his head towards your neck. His warm breath ghosted over your skin, giving rise to goosebumps. Your heart fluttered in your chest. Your nails dug into his shoulders as if begging him to stop or continue; you could no longer tell at this point.

Another set of hands pulled you away or tried to. Katsuki’s hold on you was too strong to remove you entirely away from him. Hitoshi appeared behind you. His hand reached behind the back of your neck and turned your face towards his. Katsuki kissed the juncture of where your shoulder met your neck while Hitoshi claimed your lips. You moaned at the dual sensation of two men kissing different parts of you at the same time. Your legs instantly turned into Jell-O. If not for the set of hands holding you up, it would be easy for your legs to give out from beneath you and make you collapse on the floor. Alcohol officially had nothing to do with you making out with one pro-hero while another kissed your neck. Hitoshi ran his tongue along your bottom lip, silently asking for permission for entrance. Slowly, you opened your mouth to permit him. Hands ran up and down your torso and the top of your thighs. Between them, you were gripped, groped, and caressed in ways at your ex would have never. You became lost in the flavor of Hitoshi when you heard a deriding laugh even above the pounding music.

You didn’t realize that you closed your eyes the moment Hitoshi started kissing you. When you opened them again, standing before you with a sneer on his face was your ex-boyfriend, Neito Monoma. His arms were crossed over his chest as he looked at you stuck between two men.

“It’s been less than what? A week? Couldn’t decide which one, so you decide to be a slut with both of them?” Said Neito.

“Hey, Monoma,” said Hitoshi.

“Wh—”

He stupidly fell right into Hitoshi’s trap. Neito stood there dumbly in the middle of the dance floor with that vacant stare.

“Monoma, stand there and watch us please your former girlfriend better than you could.”

Katsuki chuckled against your skin. “Yeah, ya damn extra. Stand over there with that dumb, shitty look on your face.”

Katsuki’s hand slipped into your shorts. With everyone drunk and dancing and the lights pulsating, the dimly lit nightclub gave him plenty of coverage. His fingers quickly found your clit. You shivered when Katsuki began to work you into a fit. Your back arched forward, but Hitoshi’s arm snaked around your stomach to keep you close to him. Hitoshi’s lips graced your neck, kissing and sucking at your skin. Katsuki picked up the pace of his fingers to match the fast beat of the music drumming in your ears. Your gaze fixed on Monoma, who could do nothing.

Katsuki slammed his mouth on yours while the rough pace of his fingers never faltered. You moaned against him as his tongue viciously, hungrily explored your mouth. Hitoshi secreted his hand beneath your shirt and cupped your breast through your bra. The sensations made you forget that you were in the middle of a nightclub dance floor. Your back arched like a bow. Your eyes closed and screwed tight as Katsuki brought you over the edge. You moaned into his mouth with your hands, reaching for his hair and pulling hard. Your hips bucked against him as the waves of pleasure crashed into you. When you finally came down from your high, Hitoshi helped support you against his firm chest. Katsuki slowly pulled away. He and Hitoshi quickly rearranged your clothes to make you look as inconspicuous as possible. That was a little easier said than done with your completely blissed out face and the thin sheen of sweat covering your body.

“Hey, Kitty,” said Hitoshi. He whispered next to your ear. “Wanna take this party elsewhere?”

You glanced at Monoma. He was set free from Hitoshi’s quirk, but he still stood there. His face was red. Looking down, evidence of his arousal embarrassingly stood out like a sore thumb. Monoma gave you one final sneer before running off.

Whether to hide his hard-on or take care of it, you didn’t care to know.

“Who’s place?” You asked hoarsely.

You had your arm on Hitoshi’s back, and he put his hand on your shoulder. You walked out of the club like that with Katsuki leading the way. You quickly sent a text to your friends that you met somebody. Judging by how many people were staring at your exit, it was safe to say that they would have figured out who you were going out within no time at all.

Hitoshi rode in the back with you while Katsuki drove. Five minutes into the car ride, Hitoshi worked the button off your shorts and wriggled his hand inside. He kissed you fiercely, occasionally looking into the rearview mirror to glance at Katsuki. What was he doing egging Katsuki on? Katsuki shifted in the driver’s seat with each passing glance at you and Hitoshi fooling around in the back of his car.

Hitoshi’s fingers weren’t as thick and calloused as Katsuki’s, but the slim fingers felt too damn good. You were moaning into Hitoshi’s kiss. You reached up and pulled his hair as he slipped his fingers into your panties and between your slick folds. He pumped his fingers slowly, at first, inside of your slit. One finger, then two, and as soon as you were a proper mess for him, Hitoshi added a third. He broke away from the kiss to watch you ride his fingers.

Your sensitive body jolted with every thrust of his fingers. Your hips bucked into his hand, and you rode him until you saw stars. Katsuki pulled into the driveway of his miniature mansion, opened the garage door, and pulled in. The car was secured, and the door closed. He turned off the radio. The wet squelching your cunt made taking three of Hitoshi’s fingers filled the car. You hadn’t even realized that the car had been turned off. Katsuki shifted in the driver’s seat to get a good look at you.

“Come for me.” Hitoshi kissed your ear.

You obeyed. It didn’t take much to have you coming again. Drool seeped out of the corner of your mouth as your inner walls clenched around his fingers. Hitoshi pulled out slowly. He gave his index finger a long suck, humming as he enjoyed the taste of you.

“How does she taste?” Asked Katsuki.

“So good. I can’t wait to taste the rest of her.”

Hitoshi helped you out of the car and carried you up to Katsuki’s bedroom. Even in your delirium, Katsuki’s bed appeared bigger than it needed to be. He laid you out on the pillows, hair fanning the silk and goose feathers. Your shoes were taken off but not the rest of your attire. You sat up a little as Katsuki and Hitoshi slowly pulled off their clothes. They climbed in bed with you completely naked.

Just like before, you were pressed between them. Hot hands and nimble fingers worked under your clothes, caressed your skin, and gave you goosebumps. Katsuki and Hitoshi took turns kissing your lips until you couldn’t tell whose tongue was shoved down your throat. Your outfit was simple enough and easy to remove. Piece by piece, it was all taken away and thrown into some unknown corner of the room. Your nipples were pinched until they looked more like rosebuds. On your breasts, neck, and shoulders bloomed dark bruises. You sighed into their touches, kisses, and love bites.

Hitoshi slipped his slender fingers back into you and teased your hot, wet slit. Warmth pooled inside your lower belly. He pumped his fingers slowly in and out.

“Fuck, she’s soaked down here.” Hitoshi sucked your neck. “I don’t think she can take much more of this.”

You shook your head in agreement. Your brain was fuzzy with lust and anticipation. You came twice already and just with their fingers. How much better would it feel with their cocks? Those turgid members pressed against your lower back and your stomach. You felt the ridges of each, and the hard lengths made your wall clench. This felt wrong, taking two men at once, but so, so right.

“God, please fuck me. One or the other, both, I don’t care. I can’t pick, just please somebody fuck me!” You begged.

Katsuki kissed you hard. He stole your breath away, and only when it seemed that he took more than your breath, he released you, licking your lips.

“I love a girl who knows what she wants.”

He pulled away to settle down on the pillows and leaned against the headboard. Katsuki curled his finger towards you in a ‘come hither’ motion. You crawled on the bed up to him. Katsuki’s hands seized your hips and forced you to straddle his hips. His thick, rigid member protruded against the crack of your ass. Hitoshi wasn’t far behind. The mattress dipped under his weight as he crawled behind you. His hands reached in front of you and groped your breasts.

“Ever had two cocks at the same time?” Asked Katsuki.

Your mind was too focused on Hitoshi’s experienced hands playing with your breasts and pulling your nipples taut. All you could do was shake your head. You couldn’t help but feel a little naïve with the two men who obviously had more experience than you.

“Then you’re in for a treat. Come here, princess.”

Katsuki pushed you back slightly and lifted you up. You were placed over his cock before letting you sink slowly unto it. The ridges and veins of his cock brushed against your walls to create even more slick. The entrance was painless despite his size and his length almost brushing your cervix. You straddled Katsuki’s hips with his cock buried deep. Your cunt felt so full that you were left in awe and your jaw hitting the ground. Katsuki grabbed your arms to pull you flush on top of him, your soft breasts against his hard muscles.

He kissed you again, this time distracting you from Hitoshi pressing behind you. You squeaked when felt the blunt end of Hitoshi’s cock press against your already stuffed entrance. His fingers squeezed inside and pumped. You cried out as you were slowly spread open wider. Hitoshi pushed and pushed his cock inside of your walls until there was no more room for even a pinky finger.

You moaned into Katsuki’s chest. Unceasingly, your cries filled the room—pain mixed with the pleasure which made you drool. Hitoshi tried to pull out, but you groped behind you and found his hand.

“Gimme, gimme a minute. It feels…so good,” you whined.

Both of them allowed you several minutes to adjust to their cocks being inside of your cunt at the same time. Somewhere in the middle of waiting for you, one of them started petting your head like you were a cat. You couldn’t but mewl like one as you tried to move your hips stuffed full.

“You ready, princess? You sure about that? Because once I start, I’m not fucking finishing until I’ve got my cum spilling out of you.”

Katsuki bucked his hips upwards. You gasped, and your eyes flew wide open. Hitoshi moved forward. The tight fit of those two made you sit up slightly and grab the headboard. Your knuckles turned bone-white with how hard you gripped the carved wood. Hitoshi and Katsuki moved in tandem with each other. Katsuki’s rough hands palmed your breasts. His groping was harsher than Hitoshi’s, but you liked the feel of being so nicely abused like this. His teeth grated your stiff nipples. Katsuki pulled one into his mouth and sucked hard.

You tossed your head back. Hitoshi’s hands ran up and down your sides and all the way down your thighs. He grunted against your shoulder, murmuring how tight and wet you were for them. Grabbing some part of you, they began moving faster within you. Tears and sweat comingled on your face as you rode them both. Your ships could barely keep up with their powerful thrusts sending you into heaven. You clung to the headboard for dear life.

The sound of wet flesh slamming together resounded in your ears along with their compliments. Never had you heard such lewd things whispered or shouted at you in the heat of passion.

“There you go, Y/N. Just like that. Taking it like a pro,” said Hitoshi as he nibbled your ear. “Your first time too, I’m honored, kitty.”

Katsuki stopped suckling on your breasts long enough to groan himself. He played with your tits some more and pumped himself harder into you. His hot length reaches your cervix, making you scream.

“Oh, fuck, yeah. I love all those pretty sounds you make,” Katsuki grunted.

You couldn’t speak. At least, nothing that would be comprehensible. Words came out as a garbled mess. Your vocal cords were more preoccupied with moaning and screaming as you were rammed in both directions. Your hips moved faster. You were no longer in control of your own body, but it moved towards one goal without you. Hitoshi and Katsuki matched your speed then surpassed it. They both gripped your hips to pin them down and take full control.

“Be a good girl and let us finish you off, okay?” Said Hitoshi, and he pecked your cheek.

“Let us take care of you like a good slutty princess that you are,” said Katsuki, bruising your hips while Hitoshi grabbed your thighs.

You didn’t move but allowed them to do what they pleased. You were pressed, squeezed, and bounced on their cocks with more enthusiasm than you thought they could muster. An erratic pace was set until both of their cockheads brushed against that secret spot inside your body. You couldn’t tell which one came first, but the result was the same. As ropes of cum filled your insides, you basked the warmth of it. Searing white-hot pleasure speared down your back, reached down into your lower belly, and exploded. You could bare scream as your walls clenched around the two cocks.

Hitoshi kissed your shoulders as he pulled out with all gentleness in mind. “Very good. Yeah, just like that. Good job,” he praised.

Katsuki carefully did the same. You hissed at the emptiness after having been stretched so wide that your womb might burst. Slick cum seeped out of your cunt just like Katsuki promised. Hitoshi fetched a glass of water, and he and Katsuki helped you drink it without spilling it all over your front.

“Drink slowly, dumbass. You don’t want to make yourself sick, do you?” Katsuki griped.

After such rigorous activities, it was no wonder that all three of you landed in a sweaty yet sated pile on Katsuki’s enormous bed. Silken covers were pulled over you, while your eyelids drooped closed. Two sets of arms snaked around your waist. You were too tired to tell the boys to share. There was plenty of you to go around.

“In other news, pro-hero Ground Zero is once again under fire for yet another controversy. He was seen at the nightclub Supernova, arriving with underground hero Mind Jack. Ground Zero and Mind Jack were seen by witnesses dancing with a young woman. Some witnesses state that Ground Zero put his hand inside the woman’s clothing and performed an explicit act with her in the middle of the dance floor…”

Retired UA professor, Shouta Aizawa, stopped listening to the news report. He pinched the bridge of his nose while he wondered what he had done in a former life to deserve this.

“Goddamit,” he sighed.

                                                  —080—

EDIT: I realized just before posting there is one small continuity problem. Bakugo told Kaminari to tell Shinsou to meet him at the nightclub, but I wrote that they arrive together in Bakugo’s car. It’s going to stay like that because I’ve been trying to write this thing for hours and I’m too lazy to worry about something like that. Forgive me. Let’s just pretend that Shinsou has a car break down or something.Also, I wouldn’t necessarily label this as Bakugo x Reader x Shinsou, as that implies Bakugo x Shinsou. Not that there’s anything wrong with that ship, but I feel like they’re both Dom’s in the fan fiction canon. I’d have to see or write more interactions with them before labeling an entire chapter as previously stated. That being said, you can interpret it as polyamory anyway. I’m not going to be mad if you do.

Original found here

[narniaandplowmen]

counting my way back to you.

Fandom: The Witcher 

Pairing: Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer

Also on AO3

3113 words.

General Audiences / No Archive Warnings Apply

Complete

It is not easy to make a Fae lose count.

It does not take much for a Witcher to worry.

If it takes a lot to make a Fae stop counting, then what exactly does it take?

It is not easy to make a Fae lose count. People say that, once you enter the immortal world, there is no way of knowing what time it is when you step back out. Jaskier had always found that foolish blabber, of course. It was a simple calculation: just keep count of the number of seconds you are in the Fae world, divide or multiply that by the number of stars in the sky when you enter - depending on the number of grass blades in the fairy circle you entered through - subtract the number of heartbeats it takes between entering the Fae world and touching a snowbell and voilà, that's how many milliseconds have passed in the world mortals know. A simple calculation, really. But it did not take long for Jaskier to realise that foolish mortals are easily distracted, it takes much more for a Fae to stop counting. It takes much more, but it is possible.

*

It does not take much for a Witcher to worry. Or, well, it does not take much for Geralt to worry when Jaskier’s concerned. To know your closest friend, soulmate, better half, husband, whatever you wanted to call it, is perfectly able to handle himself is something completely different than actually feeling it. If only the rational part of his brain listened to his emotions. Geralt sighed as he looked around him one last time. They had agreed to meet here, one damn week ago. And Jaskier was never late for these meetups.

Never. Until now.

*

If it takes a lot to make a Fae stop counting, then what exactly does it take?

‘Julek, you are to be crowned king this winter solstice.’

Breathe in, breathe out.

And Jaskier lost count.

‘You want me to do what?’ his reaction came, just a few seconds (minutes? hours? in the world of the Fae, who knows?) too late. Or was it right on time? The Fae world is weird when you lose count, however brief. But here’s the thing when you lose count: once lost, it can never be found again. Never truly. A decent estimation can be made, of course, especially for such a talented Fae as Jaskier, but finding it? No, even those who break the laws of nature in every regard have to keep to the mathematical rules of the universe.

*

A week later (two weeks too late, Jaskier never even arrived a second later than he wanted to. Sure, he arrived late, ‘fashionably late’ as he called it, but he arrived the exact lateness as he intended to. Even whilst Jaskier slept Geralt could sometimes hear the man in his arm count, count, endlessly count.) Geralt could firmly conclude that Jaskier was neither kidnapped, nor murdered, nor seen by mortal eyes ever since their goodbye at the end of autumn, when Geralt left the flowering field with Jaskier’s scent on his lips, his taste on his tongue and spots of white on his shirt he wouldn’t discover until three days later.

*

Knowing the number of days (hours, minutes, seconds) till winter solstice did not, Jaskier knew, meant knowing the number of days until he would have to be present at the tree where he and Geralt would meet, would rejoin their bodies and minds and souls and step as one, think as one, breathe as one creature travelling the endless continent. For yes, winter solstice for the Fae equalled winter solstice for the mortals, but assuming that the Fae keep to a linear timeline is a foolish endeavour. This solstice meant nothing, when it came from the mouth of a Fae who has not breathed human air for aeons (decades? centuries?). This solstice might be this solstice for them, but for Geralt? it could be a hundred solstices ago, or a million into the future. No, Jaskier had lost count, and there was nothing he could do to gain it back.

*

Five minutes into his visit to Yennefer, she confirmed his biggest fear. Jaskier was indeed not kidnapped, or drugged, or murdered, or bored of the life the witcher could offer him. Jaskier was gone. Simply gone. Unable to be found with any magic or spells or dreams or portals, lost to any who could not follow where he had gone. Jaskier, no matter how impossible it was to believe, had lost count. That was the only possible - even if it did not seem possible - way for him not to have returned. Either that, or- Geralt could not bear to think the words as Yennefer disappeared in a flurry of purple cloth and violet scent and muttered curses, looking for a way to bring the bard home. Home to Geralt, home to her, home to their little cottage where they would hide away when the world became too much for the three of them to bear, where they would have just each other, skin touching skin, lips touching lips, breath breathing breath, just them, just them.

*

‘Mother, why?’

‘It is time for the Fae court to have a king again, after the- unfortunate weaknesses of your father.’

‘The Fae court has not had a king for aeons. Why now?’

‘Because you are losing your way, Julek. Look at you, you have lost count.’

‘I have-’ but the words would not cross his lips. No matter how hard Jaskier tried, the sound dug itself into his chest, into his stomach, down down down away from his vocal cords, away from the air where the words would be sounded and heard and listened to.

‘Not? Julek, you have even lost the art of lying. It is time to stop playing with those foolish mortals and take up the role for which you were born. It is time for you to rule beside me, to welcome your responsibility and care for your people.’

‘Sit there and be an ornament, you mean, whilst you still hold all the strings?’

‘Julek’

‘I have not lost enough of myself to be unable to recognise your tricks, mother. Even if you crown me king, I will not stay by your side for long. I will return to those I love, and that is an oath.’

*

His brothers would have more monsters to fight this season, Geralt had resigned himself to the teasing he’d endure the next winter when he had to relinquish his 10-year record of ‘most monsters slain’. Not that any of them would blame him, if they knew.

Two months now, two months had come and gone and still no sign of Jaskier. They had fallen into an uncomfortable routine, Yennefer and him. Without Jaskier there to hold them together, to silence growing fights and touch their skin and hearts and souls at just the right ways to make them forget about all annoyances, to ply them and mould them and nudge them in just the right ways, the two of them had fought more often than they meant to, than they wanted to. But rather than leaving, rather than running away and slaying a monster and sleeping in the cold and dark and dirt and feeling sorry for himself, rather than running away and parading at court, manipulating royals and mages and feeling sorry for herself, Geralt and Yennefer remained. Every morning and every evening, Yennefer’s magic scoured the continent and all the known and unknown places beyond for any sign of Jaskier. And every day, she would portal to a new place, find new manuscripts, new books, new writings, new myths and legends and stories and they would read them all, trying to find a way to get the one who had stolen their hearts back to where he belonged: in their arms and in their beds (for Jaskier had never left their minds and hearts and souls).

*

As if things couldn’t get any worse, according to Jaskier’s calculations, he will have to leave a couple of seconds before midnight during the winter solstice. In other words, a couple of seconds before his coronation, in the middle of (for as far as there is a middle in) the Fae world. And, although Jaskier is a powerful man, even he cannot win a fight against all of his kind. They will find him during his flight, and they will make wherever he threads the middle of the world, regardless of how close to the border he will go. And it is not like he is ever given the opportunity to catch his breath, to see the stars and count the flowers and touch a snowbell and make a wish. No, for he is crown-prince Julek Taraxacum and a hundred million other names, and they will not let him go.

*

They talk. Every night they drink and stare at the ceiling in silence and drink and drink and drink and drink until not talking hurts more than talking and then they talk. One night it is just two words, on others two thousand. Yet the topic remains the same.

The one night: ‘I miss him.’

The next: ‘I know.’

The following: ‘It’s so quiet here.’

And, after a night of just silence: ‘No. I miss- I miss more than just his voice, or his touch, or his laughter, or his eyes. I miss his stubbornness. I miss his infernal, eternal unyielding determination to get done what he wants to get done. Regardless of the cost. Regardless if we let him or not. Regardless if I let him or not.’

From there, every night they drink and talk and drink and remember, painfully remember every glint and touch and look and movement and word and silent threats to those standing in the way between Jaskier and whatever he desires.

‘I miss his ruthlessness,’ Yennefer sighs. ‘That glint in his eyes and that innocent smile that threatens any who want to walk in his way. The ease with which his words weave a web and his fingers twirl a dagger until the whole world lies at his feet.’

‘I miss his sharpness.’ Geralt adds the next day. ‘I miss the way he yells and curses at me when I put myself into danger he deems unnecessary, I miss the way he hits at just the right spots to make you feel like you are absolutely nothing and yet everything at all.’

And, as the sun rises and Yennefer gets up to let her magic roam the world once more, always once more and once more again,

‘He is better than either of us could ever be.’

*

He does not succeed. Of course he does not. Not with his mother chasing behind him, not with the court pledging their service, not with the lesser fairies swimming his clothes and weaving his crown and setting the tables and not with the moon - bright, round, full and hiding the stars with her betraying light - rising higher and higher and higher until the Words are said and the Vow is made and the cape and crown and sceptre weigh Jaskier down and he is King, and it is too late (seconds? minutes? years?) too late (decades? centuries? millennia) too late to return, too late to escape and find his way back through the endlessly changing maze of time and space and place and all that the Fae world entwines and changes and corrupts and has been ever since even the gods can remember. It is too late, and Jaskier does not know if he can ever return home.

Jaskier still counts.

*

It has been a year without Jaskier and their nights cease to be long speeches, and fall into just words. Alternating, every night the other starts, and they - in between drinks, in between trying to find some consolation in being an immortal mortal and missing, missing, missing the one thing you believed to be a constant in your life, the person who holds your heart and mind and soul and who you wishes could hold you, trace your skin with delicate callused hands, touch you in ways you never dreamed possible whilst whispering your greatest secrets and knowing, knowing that there is no safer place than there, completely surrendered to the hands and voice and soul that holds them - just repeat the same list over and over and over and over until the betraying sun raises above the skies and their futile search continues.

‘Voice.’ Geralt drinks.

‘Touch.’ Yennefer drinks.

‘Laughter.’

‘Eyes.’

‘Stubbornness.’

‘Ruthlessness.’ They open a new bottle, stolen from some corrupt mayor.

‘Sharpness.’

‘Strength.’

‘Love.’

‘Compassion.’

‘Talent.’

‘Humour.’

Jaskier.

*

His second, third and fourth attempts fail too. Jaskier curses the patience and stubbornness of Fae as he counts to his fifth, unable to manage to smile because of the irony of his own patience and stubbornness being the things leading him to try again (he will try again and again and again and again his whole immortal life long, for he carries hearts and souls of value and he has to return to give them back). Yet as a king he is guarded too closely, kept too busy, held to too high a standard, and never, never, never alone (he had never minded being surrounded by others all the time, as long as those others held his heart and soul and these others certainly do not).

But as he reigns and makes decisions and cuts ribbons and blesses babies and is held as a prop by his mother who enjoys having the empty throne next to her filled and speaking as a Queen with a King on her side, he feels a tug. A small thread forming in his ribs, tying around his heart and weaving through his veins, first unnoticed but rapidly rapidly rapidly all-consuming, all-knowing, overwhelming and strange and yet so distantly familiar, tasting of lilacs and violets and onion and adventure and destiny and fate. He can feel it in his fingertips, spinning through his ears and knitting his joints together until his body feels like the restless sea and he can faintly taste the Beauclair White and Toussaint Red on the tip of his tongue and deep, deep in his empty throat devoid of words and song and him.

With every heartbeat, the tug gets stronger.

*

The best ideas happen when one is drunk. The most foolish, idiotic and dangerous ideas happen then too, but the only way to know whether your plan is genius or will end the world is by trying it out.

It is because of that reason that Yennefer and Geralt infiltrate the highest security library, steal an ancient manuscript and spend a full week without sleep translating their nightly list into the oldest language known to mortal men.

It is far from the oldest language ever spoken, but it is close enough.

Geralt feels a thread of something entwining his fingertips, rooting in his stomach and growing to his heart and encircling his skull. It meanders through his brain, wrapping itself like a noose around the parts of him he doubts and criticises and hates and loathes and tying it close, close, close, till no negative thought can survive and he has to admit that his hair his mouth his face his scars his eyes his everything is beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

Yennefer feels a thread of something extending from her hair, diving into her skin and spinning in the emptiness between her hips reminding her of the sacrifices she made, filling the void like a clew of golden, loving, sharp and stubborn yarn, pulling and pulling and pulling something, someone, the only person who succeeded in making her feel whole and beautiful and perfect and flawless and yet so endlessly, endlessly human.

They hold their hands, grab the thread so strong it is almost visible in the open air of their hidden garden and pull.

*

And then, just as he is once again paraded around for dignitaries and officials and others in positions that, by all accounts, should not exist in the frankly dictatorial Fae court, like he is some rare flower or pretty dress or beautiful painting or another essentially worthless, worthless object, the growing tug that drags him forward, that makes him walk quicker in certain directions or holds him back in others, that has interwoven around every cell in his body making him wonder why nobody has seen the almost visible golden string tying him to somewhere yet, why nobody has noticed he has lost his appetite (why eat flowers and grass and honeydew imported from the sweetest countries when the taste of your lovers weigh on your tongue and fill your stomach in a manner no food could ever equal) the tug suddenly grows stronger. The thread extending from him, through him, in him, grows from a thin cotton thread to a long string of woollen yarn to a thick rope to a cable filling his lungs and throat and tugs, and tugs and tugs.

And the world becomes blurred and the wind picks up and the chattering around him rises and then fades and fades and fades and the busy streets of the Fae city make place for an empty garden next to a lovely cottage and two pairs of arms wrapping tightly, tightly around his waist and chest.

*

And, like a breath Nature didn’t notice she was holding in, there Jaskier is. With regal dress and tired eyes and dulled cheeks, but Jaskier nonetheless. Their Jaskier, their life and love and joy and reason for holding on, holding on to life and the world when there is nothing to hold on to. He is there, truly there, really truly there.

*

If it takes a lot to make a Fae stop counting, then what exactly does it take?

A tug from another world. A hug from his loved ones. A frantic pushing and pulling and ripping of clothes, trying to get closer and closer and closer (true lovers can never be close enough, their souls are so entwined their bodies will always be trying to become one) to make up for lost time, to assure themselves that it is real, to touch, to see, to smell, to taste, to know that it is real, not yet another happy dream but real and present and here. A violent kiss. A perfectly placed touch. A hundred thousand touches in a row, all at the same time for forever yet for no time at all.

What does it take to make a Fae stop counting? Oh, although it is difficult, there still are many things that can.

But what does it take to make a Fae stop counting, without them worrying about it?

That is a secret only those who have loved and lost and found again can truly know.

[augmented-beauty]

You’re alive

Took me a while, but I finally finished this one shot. AU where things go a bit differently and Adam and Alex end up being together back in Detroit already. Takes place during the events of Deus Ex Blacklight, and I guess the title suggests you what it’s all about. Lots of feels and fluff ahead. 

No particular warnings, there’s only some light swearing. 

Word count: 3277

Tagging @mechanical-angels​, as she asked for this 🥰

You can also read this on AO3. 

I’m already tired of my shift for today, and I’m far from done. I’m sick of paperwork and awful patrolling. Never in my career, I’ve found myself checking out the time, hoping for my shift to be over as soon as possible. After coming back to service some months ago though, that changed.  Since I came back to work after the incident, most of my colleagues have been looking at me differently, like I was a walking weapon that could end them at any given moment. Many have turned their backs at me, and for what? For a brand new augmented arm. All of a sudden, I can’t be trusted. Only the persistent buzzing of my mobile drags me away from my frustration and has me raising a brow. Pritchard’s calling me, which is something he never does while I’m working. He eventually messages me but never rings when I’m on duty. Must be something important, so I pick up without giving a damn. 

“Hey hermano, what’s up? Is everything all right?”

“You could say so.” he takes a brief pause, probably pondering his words. “You were right about not losing your hope. Adam is alive, and back in town, too.”

I freeze, not sure if this is real life or just a dream. “Is…is this for real?” I’m really trying not to squeal like a madwoman out of nowhere, but my happiness and excitement are evident in my voice.

“Would I lie to you?” a rhetorical question, just to try at sounding pissed, but I can hear his light smile. “I’ll admit I didn’t believe it at first, but it’s true. Jensen contacted me out of the blue, and the only thing that I got clearly is that he’s in trouble, again. Actually, I’m not even sure he wants me to tell you, but I’m doing this anyway. Sure, he probably just wants to keep you safe and out of this mess, but you deserve to know." 

"W-what the hell is going on, Frank? It’s been a whole, fucking year, man.”

“He found himself in some sort of facility. He was pulled out of the ocean after the explosion of Panchaea and put in there to recover. Something’s off, considering he never was identified and his escape from there. Apparently, someone’s looking for him. We’ll get some explanations once you get to my place though, let’s say…an hour from now, more or less, if that’s fine for you. We, uhu, have an issue to fix in the meantime.”

“Of course it is, I’ll just call the rest of the day off for some sort of emergency. It’s not even a complete lie, actually.”

“Fine. I’ll see you in an hour, then.”

“Be careful out there.”

We end the call, and I end up staring at nothing in particular for a good minute. I’m completely speechless, I can barely believe what Frank just told me. I can’t even cry or anything, I’m in pure disbelief. I can’t focus on my paperwork anymore, so I just figure out what to do and how to do it. It won’t take long to reach Pritchard’s place, which used to be Rialto movie theatre, especially on my motorbike, but he doesn’t really live in the safest area of the city. There’s no way I’m gonna park there, I’d like to still have my bike in one piece at the end of the day, and to have it at all. Guess I’ll park somewhere safe and then walk the rest of the way, very carefully. Sure, I’m armed and everything, but I rather not get into trouble, especially not today. Calling the rest of the day off might take a while, though, so I better get moving, even if it’s early. I take my stuff and leave, getting to my superior’s office to work my magic.

“What is it, Montgomery?”

“I’m afraid I’ll need to call the rest of the day out, sir.”

“Why’s that?” he inquires, pissed.

“Family emergency, sir. I still don’t know much about it, but it’s definitely urgent, and…I rather know more about it.”

My words, and the way I told him this, seem to change everything. Sometimes, being a good cop also means to be able to trick people and be a flawless liar. But again, it’s a half-lie, after all. Harshness melts away from his features to be replaced by a more understanding expression. “Of course, of course. You can leave. I hope it will turn out to be all right, whatever it is.”

“Thanks, sir. Have a nice day.”

There was a time when my politeness towards colleagues and superiors was totally sincere and genuine. That, too, has changed. It’s only a way to survive and avoid trouble by now. Patience runs out at times, though, and that brings out nothing nice. Wayne Haas is going to get a taste of this, once again. He mumbles something out, something about me and related to the early end of my shift for today. I don’t even try to get what he’s saying, I just glare at him as I walk past his working station, and it successfully sends a message. I heard you, and I’m in no mood to be nice to you. He rarely has the guts to put up a fight with me, he learnt how useless it is the hard way. Today is no exception to this unwritten rule. I walk a bit faster once I’m outside, finally reaching for my motorbike. I find myself pondering, unsure about what to do. I put my bag in the trunk, hang my helmet on the handlebar and get on the saddle without retracting the prop stand yet. Should I call someone of my relatives and let them know what’s going on? Mum and dad would be ecstatic to know that Adam is still alive, as well as Isabelle. But what if they ask for explanations, or to see him? I couldn’t give them any answer nor assure their safety. I better not let them know yet. On the other hand, I can’t just leave my purse like that, it not safe, and I can’t carry it with me either. Isabelle could be of help: she’s in a secure area of the city right now, close enough to my destination. I pick a place to meet her and send her a text. I’ll be there from five to ten minutes. As my doubt is resolved, I get ready and leave the police station, driving through the streets of this hellish city for very few miles before parking. Traffic didn’t really help, so it’s not like I’m early anymore. Isabelle is already there, which is perfect.

“Alex, what are you up to? There’s no reason to give me your purse if you’re not getting into trouble.”

“I need to pay a visit to Frank. It’s all right chica, I just want to be careful. You know how shady that neighbourhood is.”

“Reason why he doesn’t want you to drop by unless it’s important.”

“Don’t worry, he’s not in trouble, and I’m not either…but it’s complicated. I’ll explain everything when I can. Just so you know, I only have my mobile and my documents on me, and I’m armed. Service gun and badge are well hidden, just in case, but I’m sure I won’t need them.”

“That’s a lot for someone who just told me not to worry.” she teases, and I can’t hold back an amused smirk.

“I just want to be cautious, but trust me, I’m sure I won’t need to use any of this. Oh, could you also please not mention this whole thing to mum and dad? I don’t want them to get worried for no reason.”

“Sure, but still…be careful.”

“Thanks, and of course. I have many reasons to come back home safe and sound. See you later, I hope.”

As I walk to reach Frank’s place, my heart beats fast in my chest, and not out of fear or tiredness. The excitement is becoming almost unbearable. Only a few minutes walk keeps me away from seeing Adam again after a painfully long year of uncertainty. I have to be careful, though, if Motor City Bangers discover Frank has a friend in the police, things might take a dramatic turn for him. A hint of sadness hits me hard every time I need to get to this area of the city. How low Detroit has sunk, how hard is the life of those who live there…Pritchard is lucky enough to have a roof on his head, even if it’s not that great, but he still has the local gang breathing on his neck. Stubborn as a mule, he turned down every sort of offer of help that came from my family or me. Yet, I’m not going to surrender that easily. Sooner or later, one way or another, I’ll convince him to put pride aside, or I’ll let him see how he deserves so much better. Frank can’t go on like this, it’s too dangerous, and all the precautions I need to take are just one of the many proofs. 

I can spot the entrance by now, and I send him a quick I’m getting in as I get closer, walking in the miraculously clear area at a fast pace. Once inside, I exhale heavily, the worse has passed. I make sure Frank has at least seen the message before slowly making my way to his living space. I overhear an unfamiliar voice saying something to him, but Pritchard’s nasal one follows right after. He speaks in his usual tone, letting me understand everything is alright, that the stranger is welcome here, or at least not a threat. 

“We should wait in another room.” he politely suggests to the stranger, or so I guess, but I can tell his patience is almost running out.

“Who the hell is coming there, Pritchard? I asked you not to call anyone else for a reason.” That’s Adam’s voice. I feel like my heart has just skipped a beat at the sound. Frank has decided to keep my arrival a surprise, and I’m not complaining.

The hacker gives no answer to him, and I can hear my pissed off boyfriend sigh deeply at his behaviour, as well as two pair of footsteps leaving this room. I figure out I better stop playing the stealthy card and let Adam figure out someone is coming in, it’s not like I wanna startle him. As soon as I walk over the doorstep, his body language changes in a millisecond. At first, his back is tensed, arms crossed in frustration, and you can tell he’s troubled and pissed off. Then, he turns, brows furrowed, but he melts in a heartbeat. His expression gets softer, and his eye-shields retract, showing all his emotions all together: disbelief, happiness, pure love. He doesn’t even have the time to say my name or anything else, just like I barely take in his appearance. I’m already throwing myself in his arms, literally, and he’s already steading himself to let me do so and pick me up. My legs lock around his waist with a bit of help from him, his hands pulling me up a bit to line our faces perfectly. Meanwhile, my own hands go from his shoulders to his perfect face and neck. Our lips collide in a desperate kiss, so much that our bodies curve into each others’, fitting like puzzle pieces, keeping each other as close as physically possible. We move in sync, kissing each other like it was our last chance to do so, or like our lives depended on this. The only reason for us to break the kiss is the lack of oxygen, which is, I fear, mostly my problem. 

A comfortable silence falls between us. We just stand there, taking each other’s features in. Adam doesn’t even put me down. I already was light as a feather for him to pick up before getting his augs, so it’s even easier for him now. My hands move to cup his face, softly caressing his cheek with my left thumb, as I scan every inch. His beard is a bit longer than usual, and his hair will definitely need a cut, but he’s mainly the same that left this city one year ago. Unlike that day, though, he looks less stressed, but that’s probably gonna change soon. As Frank told me, he’s in trouble again after all. His eyes are staring at me in awe, and I notice his lips curving up in a smile. I almost forgot how it looked like and missed it dearly, as the months before his disappearance haven’t been gentle with him, and it’s enough to have my eyes getting teary. Realisation is hitting me hard all of a sudden, and I can’t even put words together. 

Adam breaks the silence, and even if it’s meant to be a compliment thrown at me with confidence, I can still feel how emotional he is right now.  "Love the haircut.“

He steals a heartfelt giggle from me and a smile, but all this mix of emotions melts into tears. Happiness, disbelief and relief hit hard now that I’m absolutely sure this is no dream, that it’s all real. He decides to put me down, only to be able to hold my face in his hands so gently and comfort me properly. In the process, I moved my hands to his chest out of instinct, and I keep them there, feeling how his upper body slowly rises and falls as he breathes, and his heartbeat. A gloomy shadow lurks over as my mind reminds me about one thing harshly and suddenly: Adam is seeing my augmented arm for the first time. For some reason, I get self-conscious about this, and I try to move my right hand away from him, ashamed, breaking eye-contact as I do. His carbon-black hand grabs my white wrist carefully and gently, guiding me into my previous posture. He doesn’t let go immediately, and a soft brush of his thumb on my cheek encourages me to look at him again. Meanwhile, tears have slowly died down, and I’m left with puffy eyes.

Adam’s voice is soft and soothing, part of me feels silly about my behaviour. "It’s ok Maribel, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. There’s no rush to tell me what happened. If and when you’ll want to talk about this, I’ll be ready to listen. Either way, a bunch of augs can’t change what’s underneath.”

I recognize my own words. I said that last sentence a lot while he was recovering and I helped him out of his hard downs. Another smile forms naturally on my face, followed by a soft sniffle. How many times I’ve yearned for his gentle words during the last year…“I missed you.” I whisper, voice a bit coarse from crying.

In a heartbeat, Adam pulls me even closer to him, hugging my shorter form, and keeping me as close as he can. He needs this badly, and he’s not the only one. His voice is loud enough for us, and us only, to hear. “I missed you, too, so fucking much.” He falls silent for a while, enjoying the moment. Adam kisses the top of my head and breaths me in, only to mumble a series of praises against my hair. His words get sadder after a while, though. Again, he’s barely audible. “I thought…I thought you wouldn’t have waited for me. I mean, I’m not saying that I didn’t believe in your loyalty anymore, but-”

“I get what you’re trying to say, and that’s why I’m stopping you right there.” Still in his embrace, I move my head a little to look at him. “Something about how things went, about what we were told after the incident, had me thinking you might have been still alive. I can’t even explain it fully. I began scheming like the cop that I am, putting all facts and pieces of evidence together. Long story short, everything made me think about trouble, not death. So yeah, I didn’t really have a reason to move on yet. And anyway, you shouldn’t be too surprised, cariño. You’re worth the wait, Adam. You’re one of the most precious people I’ve met in my entire life, you have a heart of gold. You’re one of the few I trust with my life, that has made me so happy. And you’re my naupaka flower, my other half. A year is not enough to move on from someone like you. Hell, maybe even a lifetime wouldn’t be enough.”

Adam is speechless, blindsided, moved. I can feel it in the way his heartbeat changes, getting slightly faster, as if he was falling in love all over again. “What did I do to deserve you?” he asks to himself all of a sudden.

“Do you have time for an extra-long TedTalk about it? ‘Cause I sure as hell can provide that.”

My joke successfully lighted up the mood, making him laugh softly. And I’m, too, falling in love all over again. His beautiful laugh was also missed dearly, I’ve been yearning to hear it again. We share yet another sweet, brief kiss before he speaks up again, getting more pragmatical. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but this beautiful reunion is not the only reason that brings you here.”

“Definitely not. You’re worth the fight as well, and I can’t wait to kick in the ass whoever kidnapped you for a whole fucking year anyway.” With a brief glance towards the other room, I catch the unknown man that got here with him checking on us as discretely as he can, but failing horribly. I’m going to keep his secret, though. “So, how about you two fugitives explain everything to Pritchard and me, and then we figure out what to do all together?” I suggest, puppy-eyeing him.

Adam just nods, defeated. This trick will always work on him. First of all, Adam introduces me to his new companion, Stacks, who helped him escape facility 451 in Alaska. Then, he starts explaining everything. He woke up after a coma and got interrogated by a certain Jenna Thorne. She presented herself as a government agent and asked about what happened in Panchaea. Adam immediately got suspicious, and I can’t blame him, especially considering how they identified him but never declared he was alive. Our point of view on things obviously confirm his suspects. Sarif told him about how the Illuminati might have been involved in the whole mess he had to go through during last year. At this point, we can all only think Thorne must be linked to them if not one of them. Things were looking grimmer and grimmer by the minute, so Adam and Stacks decided to escape. They really did treat them as fugitives, and their only hope was to get as far from Alaska as possible. Frank was their only hope. Detroit is not welcoming, but it was the only place where he knew he might still have had at least a friend. After Pritchard’s call, they went to search for some Nupoz for Stacks, and here we are. Pritchard then reveals what he had previously told Adam before I got there. He noticed an organized pattern raiding, meaning that something might be going on back at ex Sarif facilities. There’s only one thing to do about it. We need to get to Milwaukee Junction and investigate the area. Military-grade prototypes usually ended up there, and stuff like that just can’t fall into the wrong hands. 

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #410

“oh baby, baby, does she take a piece of lime for the drink that i’ma buy her, do you know just what she likes?

Do you put candy canes on your Christmas tree? Ye. Have you ever written/drawn/painted random stuff on your bedroom wall? No. What do you currently hear? A slowed w/ reverb version of "If U Seek Amy" by Britney Spears. Yes, I have a serious thing for these edits of childhood songs, ha ha. Actually, no shame, I still love Britney lmao. What's your favorite flavor of Doritos? Cool Ranch. Do you like bagels? Yep. Do you ever worry about what the world will be like when you have kids? I ain't having any of those, so I don't have to worry about that. Have you ever seen a hippo in person? At a zoo, yes. Are you any good at HTML? Noooo. When was the last time you did something you knew was wrong? Recently, because I'm awful about downloading things illegally. What was the last thing you downloaded on your computer? A picture. Do you ever cry just to get your way? Hi, I'm 25. I at least have SOME adult traits. Have you ever been to any professional sports games? Yes. What's the most boring sport to watch? The only sport I enjoy watching is dance, so. I think golf has to take the cake for the absolute worst, though. Do you like lip rings on the opposite sex? UGH I just love lip rings on anybody. Do you have good or bad vision? Literally awful. Have you ever parked in a handicapped spot when you weren't supposed to? Hell no. That is so fucking inconsiderate and lazy. Have you ever been to a different country? No. When was the last time you finger-painted? Nooo idea. Probably not since I was a little kid. Do you say car-mel or car-A-mel? "Care-uh-mel." When you get out of the shower, do you use one or two towels? One. Are you uncomfortable with changing clothes in front of others? Absolutely yes. Hell, I don't think I ever really changed in front of Jason back in the day, so that says something about how self-conscious I was with a FIT body. Never mind this catastrophe I own now. Which is worse: Runny nose or stuffy nose? Both suck, but stuffy drives me absolutely INSANE. Who's been the most influential person in your life? My mom. Do you have any tan lines? Ha, yeah, no. How many different schools have you gone to? Six. Do you know how to slow dance? I mean, yes? It's not complicated. Have you ever taken The Impossible Quiz? (If not, you should Google it. :D) No, and I'll never waste my time doing that shit. I've watched people play and beat it, but it seems like such frustrating, pointless madness with zero rhyme or reason behind it. Has someone that you liked told you that you are a waste of their time? No. Who is the last person you were in a car with? Mom. In the next 6 months, what are you looking forward to most? Ummmm Christmas, maybe? That's always exciting. Is there anyone who hates you? Probably. Who were you with the last time you went out for food? Mom. If your boyfriend or girlfriend smoked pot, would you care? Eh... I guess if it was for medicinal purposes, I would be okay with it. I'm not keen on dating a smoker of anything. Do you want to start over with anyone? Just Jason, at least sometimes. It'd be really, really nice if we could be friends again and just forget about who we were all those years ago, but I genuinely doubt my ability to be "just friends" with him. Even though I haven't spoken to this dude in over FOUR YEARS, and I'm sure he's changed a lot, just like I have. We might not even be compatible anymore. As much as I may want it, I think it's probably for the better we remain unassociated. Do you eat the crust of your sandwiches? It's what I eat first. Are you completely over your last relationship? Not "completely," no. I still love her, but I'm in a headspace of accepting that now is not the right time with unfit conditions. What hoodie did you wear last? My Pikachu one, which is the one I pretty much always wear. Do you listen to Incubus? Probably surprisingly, no. I don't know if I've even heard a song. Do you wear flip-flops during the winter? More like always. Do you like the smell of Axe? If you don't use an obnoxious amount, yeah. What do you think of feminists? Absolutely necessary as pilots for change. HOWEVER, I do believe some can take the concept waaaay too far. Who was the last person to smoke a cigarette in your presence? Dad, probably. When was the last time you ate a cupcake? Oh my god, GUYS. It was my niece's birthday last month, and she did the CUTEST shit. She used to be very, very opposed to getting even slightly dirty (I mean like a speck of dirt on her would make her cry), and this kid decided to just C H O M P into her cupcake and get the frosting ALL over her face. She had two and got so messy, and that angel was just laughing hysterically about it. That girl is such a damn gift. Safe to say she was bouncing off the walls that night. Did you hug one of your parents today? No. Do you tan in the nude? I don't tan, period. Have you ever put a lot of thought and effort into a gift for somebody, only for them to act like it didn’t really matter to them? Oh god, no. That would really, really hurt, because I genuinely do try to be very thoughtful with my gifts. Do you follow the ‘five second rule’ when you drop food on the ground? NOOOOOOO. It's just a bullshit myth. I am NOT eating food that's been on the floor for a millisecond. If you had to describe yourself using a colour, which colour would you be? Maybe like... navy blue? Kinda dark and somber, but also has a calmness to it. Have you ever had to use another person’s toothbrush before? What were the circumstances? I WOULD FUCKING NEVER. Omg that is so gross. Have you ever crashed a car? No. Do you have a garden? Does it have flowers, vegetables, or both? No. Where do you want to raise your kids? I don't want kids, but if I did, absolutely surrounded by nature and animals. Have you ever been to Cracker Barrel? Yeah, I love it there. Damn, now I want some, lol. Have you ever seen a ghost? I sure as fuck saw something. As soon as you find out you are pregnant, who will you first tell? Who says I'm ever going to BE pregnant? 'Cuz it sure isn't in my plans. But hypothetically, the dad. Have you ever won a game of Minesweeper? Like ever? I've never played it. Who is your best guy friend(s)? Girt. I really should chat with him soon, it's been too long. If you had a tiny scar on your face, would you get it removed or just keep it? I'd keep it. Make me look more badass. ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ What is your hair naturally like? Brown and kinda-sorta wavy. Have you ever stared at a stranger and they said something to you about it? No; I don't stare at people. Is your father very protective of you? I wouldn't say "very protective," no. What would you do if your hero died? ffffffUCK THIS QUESTION HOW ABOUT NO HE'S NOT ALLOWED THAT'S VERY ILLEGAL Where was your first date at with your current lover? I don't have one currently. Are you friendly in the morning, or are you barely awake? Depends on how much sleep I got, but I'm generally in my best mood in the morning. Did your parents force you to go to church? Mom did. What made you pick up the last book you started reading? It was the next book in the series I'm reading, Wings of Fire. When was the last time you went somewhere for the first time? Hm. I dunno. Hypothetically and generally speaking, how would you go about breaking up with someone? Is there anything you would make sure to say, or perhaps not say? I mean it would really depend on WHY I was breaking up with them, but I guess in most situations I'd try to meet them face-to-face and explain why I wanted to cut things off. I think it'd be important for them to hear my tone of voice, and I think physically meeting somewhere would show that I care enough for them to cut time out of my day to see them and try to hurt them as least as possible, given the situation. What do you find particularly offensive? Would you say you’re easy or difficult to offend? DO NOT in even a minor way ridicule mental illness or belittle victims as "weak" or pull the "it's just in their head" bullshit. The misuse of the term "retard(ed)" also genuinely offends me. I wouldn't say I'm easy to offend, either. What was the last chore you completed? Changing my cat's litter. When was the last time someone saw you naked? It's been a loooong time, and it would've only been my mom when I was like, going into a shower or something. If you could bring someone back from the dead and spend an hour with them, who would it be and what would you do/say? Probably Steve Irwin. I'd go on and on about how his family has carried his legacy so brilliantly, and show him aaaaaall the public pictures of Bindi and Grace, especially. God, that man would be so proud of them all. What is the greatest lost you’ve endured? My first "real" boyfriend. How would you describe your current mood? A mix of tired and anxious. I don't feel like going to bed yet, and the storm we've got passing through has me nervous about tornadoes 'n shit. Do you ever drink or get high alone? I've had some light drinks alone. What is the “worst” drug you’ve done? Are there any you will never try, or any you want to try? I've never done any illicit drugs, and I don't want to. What is the most personal thing you’re willing to reveal? Probably that I've had a pilonidal cyst. It's awkward to explain, but I'll share it anyway if there's a good reason to/I'm asked or something. What made you stop talking to the last person you cut out of your life? Her just being the most toxic, drama-filled person with the biggest victim complex of any human I've ever met. Who was the last person to yell at you? Did you yell back? Mom, and my voice was raised. Where do you like to be kissed? This depends on how serious we are. Can go from just the cheek to a lot of places. Which season is your least favorite and why? Summer, because it's too goddamn hot and humid. Who, if anyone, do you compare yourself to most? Probably my little sister. She's on such a successful path, and then there's like... me lmao. Do you have a night-light in your bedroom? If so, what does it look like? No. What is your favorite breakfast food? How often do you get to eat it? Cinnamon rollssssss. I have 'em very rarely, though. I'll eat too many of them, which I definitely don't need. What is your favorite thing about autumn? What about your least favorite thing? AHHHHHH EVERYTHING. I love Halloween and the decorations that come with it, the changing leaves, the crisp air... just all of it. :') Who was the last person you asked for help? Mom, I'm sure.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer III: The Sword

"Why did you even sink the Lenin. Were you trying to wake the dragon?” Chisei asked him.

“No... that wasn’t my intention.” Tachibana took a deep breath, bowing under the weight of his own guilt. “I wanted to steal Herzog’s research. Give it to Hydra as a gift. I wanted to take you and your brother Chime from the research facility as well as all the research data I could carry.”

“It was I who suggested that the research be moved to Japan. I convinced him, saying that it would be easier to hide there. But... in accepting my offer, Herzog determined it necessary to completely destroy the research facility and the town that had grown up around it.”

“Destroying the evidence?” Chisei growled.

“Herzog has no consciousness he is committing a crime. No...” He shook his head. “He knew that the researchers he worked with also understood the secrets of the Dragon Clan. He wanted to get rid of any possible competition.”

“How many people have you killed?” Chisei asked softly.

“Hundreds. Perhaps... thousands. I did not count. I even attempted to kill Herzog. After destroying Black Swan Bay, I shot him in the heart. I took you and your brother and a few others on the ship across the sea.”

The conversation descended into silence for a while. Chisei looked away from him. “Go on.”

“We didn’t get far before we started hearing roaring coming from the lower compartment. The dragon embryo was down there. When he checked on it, it was still frozen in liquid nitrogen but had somehow become conscious! The roars were in our heads. It was trying to manipulate us into setting it free!”

“We tried to drown it in more chemical but it was to no avail. The Captain of the ship disappeared, last seen walking into the cockpit at night and taking the keys to the bottom compartment. When we went there, it was full of blood vessels and flesh growing like a mold. The nitrogen pipe was cut off. The captain of the ship must have been taken over by the embryo’s will and set it free.”

“I had no choice but the sink the ship.”

“And kill more people...” Chisei said.

“That’s just the way it is sometimes. Sometimes you can’t get off the treadmill of your own errors. They keep piling on top of each other. One by one... the crew was contaminated by dragon blood and had to be eliminated. I had no choice.”

“But...” But he cracked. “I paid the ultimate price. Erii... my daughter...”

Chisei looked up. “Your daughter? But she’s an Uesugi...”

“No... her name should be Tachibana. We changed it to hide our relationship. She was contaminated by the dragon blood. Her evolution was not perfect. Even today, the blood is eroding her body. She has little time left.”

The words sent a knife like pain through Chisei’s heart. Erii was dying? He closed his eyes. “Just... keep talking...”

“I was desperate to keep her alive. I had to find a way to slow it down. I started doing research based on the data that Herzog put together. I changed my name, joined the Hydras. I captured Devils, especially those injected with the evolutionary drugs, and used chemicals to extend their lives. I found some ways to curb the erosion of dragon blood. You can find it in the lower drawer of your office, in a black folder.”

Just when Chisei thought he couldn’t sink deeper into disillusionment, Tachibana revealed a lower level. All his promises to keep these devils alive served the interests of Tachibana’s experimentation.

Carli’s words rang loud in his head.  “You’re not the one in control here. You never were.”

“Eventually, I was able to produce a serum to extend Erii’s life.”

“DAMN IT!” Chisei looked up at him, furious tears in his eyes. “Then why are we killing Devils at all! Why did you send me to kill Chime?! If what you have works on Erii why wouldn’t have worked on him too?! Why?”

Tachibana raised his hands. “Please... listen...  It was not easy for me to get into the Hybrid Asylum. That’s why I couldn’t get in to save your brother. I didn’t have that much power then. I was under the management of Cassell College by then. I had to focus all my energy on the research.”

“So you weren’t trying to help devils then?”

“Our main focus was monitoring death servitors. At first, their numbers were at manageable levels, but then, suddenly, their numbers began to grow... exponentially. Eventually, our investigation showed that there was a drug that was increasing the purity of dragon blood in hybrids to the point of turning them into Death Servitors.”

“The Dragonblood serum.”

“I wasn’t the only survivor of Black Swan Bay. Someone else survived as well! The new Leader of the Devil Clan!”

“Where is he?”

“Chisei... the leader of the Devil Clan is no longer human. Even though, I threw an incendiary at him that produced thousand degree heat in a millisecond, he walked right through the flames! I’ll never forget his forked tongue... his eyes. He’s a semi-evolved species. He’s desperate to research full dragon evolution... because that’s the only thing keeping him alive!”

“He has an oppressive presence. The presence of the dragon. The only thing that saved me at that moment... was a phone call from you. Asking me to join you hiking in the mountains. It was enough for me to escape his aura.”

“I had a remote controlled bomb ready to go in case I failed. I collapsed the building on top of him.”

“But he’s not dead.”

“No... his drugs are still circulating. I’ve waited so long for you to grow up, Chisei. I’ve built in you the desire to kill devils with the express purpose of killing the ultimate Devil. This demon that I let loose on the world from Black Swan Bay.”

“You’ve become a maniac Tachibana. In your efforts, you’ve committed terrible crimes. Killed thousands of people by your own admission, and you haven’t even succeeded. And now ... you’re asking me to kill Carli... and maybe even my own children?” Chisei cold eyes regarded him.

“You were not supposed to exist, Chisei. The gene expression he was looking for was the violent one!, The uncontrolled one! But the perfect gene creates twins. Mirror images of each other. The violent one was Chime. You were simply the by-product of his desire for blood!”

“Any children he has created or will create with your genes and that girl’s genes, half will be like Chime. They will be completely uncontrollable. Do you understand Chisei?”

“I understand.”

“And you also understand, why my life must end here. Why I must pay?” Tachibana lifted the knife. He lifted his shirt to reveal the unnaturally chiseled physique for someone his age.

“Killing the leader of the devils is not my last request. My last request is for Erii. She is my only daughter, I can’t bear to see her die. You’re the only person she trusts his this world. If you can use her in the battle against the king, that would be for the best... if she loses control then... it will be up to you to end her life... but before that. Please... let her be happy. Give her the desires of her heart.”

“She didn’t know she had a father. Don’t tell her about me. If she found out she had a father only to learn that he is dead...it would only cause her too much suffering.”

Chisei hung his head. “Alright.” He stood up, taking the long sword in a position next to Tachibana, while he recited the haikuu traditionally spoken before his death. His eyes held no light in them as he watched the old man  the raise the blade, intending to plunge it into his belly and cut from left to right.

All the while he heard Carli’s voice, pleading with him that she didn’t do anything wrong and that killing her wouldn’t bring anyone back.

His sword arced in a blinding flash of light. Tachibana’s five fingers holding the knife were neatly severed at the knuckles. The knife fell to the blood stained blanket. 

Chisei knelt next to him, holding a hankerchief to stop the bleeding, staring to the man’s pale face, the man he always thought was his father.

“Are you accepting five fingers as a substitute punishment?” Tachibana inhaled a sharp gasp, tears leaking out from the pain and shock.

“Even though wrongdoers will be punished in this world, I am not punishing you just to still have a guilty conscience when I see my clansman lying under a casket covering. What difference would killing you make? If you want to talk about atonement, your one life is not enough.”

“Stay, and watch me kill the Devil Clan ringleader. I also can't make any promises to care for Erii. All I can do is play video games with her.”

He fastened the handkerchief in a tight knot and gave him a pat on the shoulder. "All these years I've been nothing but a sword in your hands. When you told me to cut, I never objected. Now you say, "Kill the Devil Clan leader”, so I'll do it. It doesn't matter if the hand holding the sword is dead. As a sword, I still exist.”

[spiderman-homecomeme]

Day Six - Quiet Hours

AN: I have been looking forward to this day all week, and I’m so excited to see what everyone’s done for this! I absolutely love College AUs, and would love to do more of them! Thank you @spideychelleweek​ for getting this all together for us! 

Prompt: College AU

Here is about 4k (oops i went overboard) of fluff, college, humor, and a teensy bit of angst

.

.

“Karen, I think I’m in love.”

Peter almost couldn’t believe it.

No, he really couldn’t believe it.

She’d actually said yes.

She— girl-of-his-freakin’-dreams Michelle Jones— said yes.

Yes to a date with him.

He honestly doesn’t know how it happened, how she was able to decipher the fact that he was asking her to coffee from whatever that jumbled, painfully awkward mess was that came out of his mouth when he’d asked. And he’s not sure exactly how many times he’d said the words “cup of coffee,” in the span of a minute, but if he had to make a guess, it’d probably have been in the low-thousands.

They’d agreed to Friday at 3:30 at one of those cute coffee shops just outside of the campus.

Two days from now.

Alone.

On an actual date.

He briefly contemplates pinching himself; this has to be some kind of a dream. The polar opposite of whatever a nightmare was. He feels lighter than air as he swings from building to building, the smile under his mask threatening to burn through the fabric. 

God, what a day. 

He’d only just met Michelle this semester. He remembers briefly seeing her on moving day, both of her parents helping her move into the room next to his. Her father had been grumbling about the idea of a co-ed dorm, her mother playfully smacking him on the arm as she chided him about the progressing times. 

And though they were neighbors, Peter only got to know her through their shared Psych 100 course. He’d nearly burst into the classroom on day one, having less than a minute to spare as he scrambled to the closest seat he could find. 

He would not be late on the first day again. No, sir.

He was starting this year off right.

The girl next to him— Michelle— had thrown him a fleeting side-eye glance, though not actually looking up from sketching all over the syllabus the professor had just handed out. 

Peter wished, hoped, prayed to God that she couldn’t hear him breathing like he’d just run up four flights of stairs.

(Which he had.)

He’d fumbled, the awkward energy radiating through his bones as Dr. Cabot called his name during attendance for the second time— the first he’d missed because he was too busy staring at the doodles on Michelle’s paper. The girl had snorted at his near-incoherent bumbling, disguising the huff of amused air under her hand, biting back the smirk. 

The shade of red on his face almost matched the pen on her desk, his stomach erupting in butterflies at the toothy grin that flashes across her features at the speed of light, almost missing it entirely.

Okay, maybe the embarrassment wasn’t so bad.

And it seemed to go like that the rest of the fifty-minutes; him finding himself unable to take his attention away from the girl next to him, even when his eyes are trained right on Dr. Cabot as she reads the most-likely plagiarized section that’s totally ripped from other professors’ syllabi, Academic Dishonesty.

Ever since that day, it was safe to say that Peter was smitten. Embarrassingly so. He had to contain every ounce of enthusiasm that threatened to explode from his body when he’d been paired with her for the first project of the semester. 

“Okay, so I figured one of us can talk about Vygotsky and the other can have Piaget. Sound good?”

Though he was making direct eye contact, listening as intently as he could, none of Michelle’s words registered, Peter way too caught up in how freaking enchanting she looked, back-lit by the hues of orange and gold provided by the early-evening sun.

Maybe working on the quad had been a mistake.

“Yo. Parker.” 

Oh, great. And now he’s been caught staring. Now she knows he’s a certified, grade-A creep.

And just like that, he’s snapped right out of his daydream. “Oh! Uhm— Uh…” He stammers, mouth hanging open as he tries to figure what the hell to say, feeling himself shrink back at her expectant stare. “Wha—What?” He asks, scratching the back of his neck.

She turns her head, eyeing him from the side, brow quirked. “I asked you if that sounded good.”

“If what sounded good?”

“If one of us talked about Vygotsky and the other talked about Piaget.” There was only a hint of exasperation to her tone, something which Peter’s pretty damn thankful for. “Theory of cognitive development? You know? The project we’re supposed to be working on?”

Though, he knew she was probably way more annoyed than she let on.

And he couldn’t really blame her.

There wasn’t really anything in either psychologists’ theories about the staring at pretty girls in the sunlight stage of life. 

“Oh, yeah,” he nods thoroughly. “Yeah. Of course. That sounds great.”

“Are you good?” 

He wonders if his skin looks as hot as it feels. “Uh, yeahyeahyeah. Yeah. I’m good.”

Judging by the look on her face, she can see right through that bullshit. But thankfully, she doesn’t press, either completely uninterested or just unable to find it in her to even bother. 

It takes a month... or two... or three, but he finally gets the guts to actually do something about his feelings when he sees her studying in the library one day, her nose buried in the pages of the textbook she’s poring over. 

The library’s normally about a thousand degrees, give or take, but today it seems especially balmy as he rocks back and forth on his heels, hands wringing together as he tries to come up with any kind of coherent sentence that isn’t this inane mumbling he’s currently doing. It only takes about another three seconds of panic before he mucks up just enough courage to ask her if she’d want to get coffee sometime. 

And, for whatever reason, one that is beyond him entirely, she says yes, a shy smile tugging at her lips as she stares back down at the convoluted words littering the pages. 

Honest to God, he feels like he could sing every octave of Beyonce’s Love on Top at this point. With choreography.

Patrol goes on without a hitch that evening, Peter having successfully stopped a poorly thought out break-in before it even happened, the criminals actually trying to use a crowbar in this day and age to open the backdoor of some guy’s place. A few thwip-thwips here and there, some well-timed kicks and punches, and boom. Taken care of.  

Easy-peasy.

Oh, he’d also helped a little boy get his balloon back after it had floated away. 

And he’d prevented a shoplifter from implementing their five-finger-discount on a set of particularly expensive purses outside of one of those designer shops. 

An actual car thief— he had made sure to check this time, not wanting a repeat of his early Spider-Man days— thought he was being especially sneaky before he found himself webbed to the side of the parking garage. 

Overall, it’s been a pretty successful night. 

And Peter can 100% account that to this new, magical, walking-on-air, invincible feeling that’s flowing through his veins, radiating from the top of his head to the very tips of his toes. The evening sun bleeds into night as he flips through the air, whooping and hollering with each leap and bound, the lights of the city twinkling around him. Maybe he throws in a few more aerial tricks and spins as he swings by a crowd, his smile growing exponentially when a chorus of cheers eggs him on.

This happy-go-lucky feeling carries him all the way back to campus, and his stomach does almost the same acrobatics that he’d done seconds before when he sees MJ exiting the library, eyes glued to her phone as she walks through the quad. He knows if he makes it back in time, he might get the chance to see her— talk to her again, for just a little bit, to catch her as she’s going into her room. 

McClain Hall isn’t that far from where he’s perched on the Student Union Building, just on the northern edge of campus, the slightest bit separated from the surrounding dormitories. His own room is on along the outside perimeter, perfect for when he needs to sneak back in from a night of vigilante justice. It’s definitely a step up from Freshman year, that’s for sure. 

Plus, McClain has suite style rooms, so he gets his own bathroom now, which is pretty sweet.

He lands perfectly above his window, internally fist-pumping as it slides open easily. There had been a few too many times where past-Peter had forgotten to unlock the dang thing before leaving, resulting in a very awkward, “Hey, RA, can you unlock my dorm for me? I forgot my keys in there. And yes, I also forgot… my… clothes… too…”

Since then, he’s been a lot more careful, both carrying a spare key in his utility belt, and leaving the window unlocked at all times. 

He climbs in, the dark surrounding him as he lands silently, pulling his mask off and throwing it haphazardly somewhere in the room without a second thought. 

Though something seems… off.

Almost instantly, he’s hit with the faint smell of perfume lingering on the air, and he briefly wonders if Ned and Betty had been here. He glances around, eyes adjusting to the light, seeing his grey sheets replaced with a deep navy. 

Oh, God.

Oh, good God.

He’s such an idiot.

This isn’t his room. 

Shitshitshitshitshitshit SHIT.

He doesn’t have any time to process the utter terror that starts to pulse through him, the hairs on his arms standing ramrod straight as the jingling of keys and as a soft voice is heard on the other side of the door. 

In a moment of panic, he debates on whether or not he should just web the doorknob, thinking it could buy him some time. But he takes a millisecond too long trying to decide. The lock turns, and he ends up hurling himself behind the de-lofted bed as the door opens, effectively trapping himself between the wall and the wooden frame. 

How he hadn’t noticed the difference in how the room was arranged when he’d first come in, he had no idea.

Never, ever, under any circumstances, was he to Spider-Man while distracted, he decides right then and there.

“—studying in the library all day. Felicia’s gone on some sisterhood trip, or whatever.” Michelle’s phone is tucked into her neck as she kicks the door shut with her foot, bypassing the main light switch and electing for the much more muted tones of her desk lamp and fairy lights. 

Peter’s lungs seem to be collapsing second by second, and he briefly wonders if it’s possible that he could be having some kind of heart attack. He can see her slightly through the thin gap between the mattress and the bed frame, his stomach lurching into his chest at the sight of her. 

Ohgodohgodohgod.

“Yeah… Yeah… Mhmm… Yeah, classes are fine… just three or four big midterms next week, and one of them’s a project.” She drops her backpack on the chair, her back to the intruder in her room as she puts her books back on her desk. “Yeah… Uh-huh…. Yeah…” Her tone is monotonous in response to the cheery voice on the other line, her own droning the same automated reply every few beats. “Uh, yeah. Peter’s fine… I guess?”

Instantly, the sound of his own name in a conversation that he’s not a part of in any way and kind of has no business hearing piques his interest. 

There’s a hint of hesitation to her tone as she continues, as if she’s not completely sure she’s willing to divulge any more sensitive information. “I mean… I’m kind of… getting coffee with him… like a date, I think.” She pauses, holding the phone away from her ear at the excited rambling on the other end. 

She thinks??

“Mom, oh my God, please stop...:” She lets out an melodramatic groan, running a hand over her face in exasperation. “I’ve told you before, I didn’t think he was interested, geez. That’s why I didn’t say anything.”

She talks to her mom about me??

His insides are a mish-mosh of this weird concoction consisting of utter horror-panic and pure unadulterated elation. It’s ultimately a very confusing feeling, and he’s not sure if he’s going to end up barfing all over her carpet out of fear or happiness. If his mask was still on he’s about 105% sure Karen would have already called an ambulance for him. 

“Yeah… Yeah, okay… Listen, I’m gonna get ready for bed, take a shower. I’ll talk to you more about this later, I promise… Bye, Mom…. Yeah…. Love you, too.”

If at all possible, his anxiety seems to spike as she hangs up the phone.

MJ rolls her shoulders once, shaking her hands out as she releases a relieved sigh. 

He had to get the hell out of there.

Unseen.

And alive.

His chance finally comes when she steps into her bathroom, and he waits for the sweet, wonderful, holy sound of that door clicking shut. He holds his breath, listening for any movement on the other side of the door. He’s able to pick up on her faint shuffling as she (presumably) changes out of her clothes and into nothi—

He immediately decides that he absolutely cannot think about that right now. Very dangerous territory. 

When he’s sure that the coast is clear, he makes a break for it, snatching up his discarded mask as he leaps for the window. 

But perhaps it would have been a better idea to listen if the shower had been turned on yet.

Before he can even get a foot on the windowsill, the bathroom door opens again, revealing his potential inamorata in nothing but a dark burgundy bathrobe. His eyes are immediately drawn to every patch of skin visible; her neck, her collarbones, her unfairly long legs.

He’s not sure who screams louder. 

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN MY ROOM?!”

A fair question.

What the fuck is he doing in her room?

“I’M SORRY—”

“—JESUS CHRIST—”

“IT WAS AN ACCIDENT, I SWEAR— I THOUGHT YOU WERE IN THE SHOWER—”

“—SO YOU SNUCK INTO MY ROOM?”

“NO! GOD NO—”

“—HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN IN HERE?!”

Peter tries to lower his volume, hoping that she’ll follow suit. “Like maybe five minutes!”

“OH MY GOD—”

“I didn’t mean to— God— AH! I’m so sorry, MJ!”

She stops yelling, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath. 

“How did you even get in here?! Did you seriously climb all the way—” She immediately cuts herself off, her eyes flicking to the window before giving him a quick once over that makes him feel at least fifty-times more hot under the collar than he already was. It was a wonder the suit wasn’t burnt to a crisp at this point. 

He can practically see the dots as they connect in her head.

Michelle considers herself to be more perceptive than most people, which is why she’s known all along that something was up with this Parker dude. By their third or fourth week of knowing each other, she’d come to the deduction that this boy was either a crime fighting vigilante or a serial killer. Really, could have been either one. She was just glad to have at least something confirmed.

Though she would have preferred it to not be from Spider-Man himself sneaking into her room at midnight when she’s wearing nothing but a bathrobe.

“It’s not what it looks like!!” Peter immediately tries to derail her train of thought, hands held out in defense. “It’s uh— not mine.” He stares blankly at her, his expression wide in sheer terror as he scrambles for an answer. “Yeah.” He trails off, his eyes momentarily drawn the the trail of skin from her neck down to the valley between her—

No. No no no. Stop that.

She fixes him with a calculating stare, eyes narrowing as she quirks a doubtful brow. “Then who’s is it?”

His scoff is nothing if not a little over-the-top, his expression scrunching slightly as if the answer’s obvious. “Spider-Man’s.”

Her only response is a slow, deliberate blink.

“Who I am definitely not. I just make the suits,” Peter quickly spits out, and he starts to shrink back the longer her eyes are on him. “Just… Just test driving... the new model… Because I’m his suit… crafter… guy....”

He’s met with another blink. “Are you done?” She asks.

There really was no way out of this.

Peter sighs dejectedly. “Yeah…”

“Tell me something, Parker.” Her tone is a bit too casual for comfort. “Do I look stupid?”

“No! God, no!” He groans, running a tense hand through his hair. “You’re like the smartest person I’ve ever met! Just…” He brings his volume down even more, though he doesn’t seem to know what to say, mouth opening and closing as he struggles to form a coherent sentence.

He decides that there’s really nothing he can say, nothing that can convince her that he’s not a superhero.

A sharp exhale escapes him as he finally looks up at her, eyes pleading. “Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“What? That Spider-Man’s a creep who sneaks into girl’s dorms?”

“No!!” Peter shouts, voice cracking. “I mean, I don’t sneak into—Ugh! That’s not what I— God, I meant don’t tell anyone that I’m—” His mouth snaps shut, lips pressed together as he lets out a sharp exhale. He glances right and left, voice now barely above a whisper. “Spider-Man.”

She’d almost be amused if it weren’t for the way her ears and skin burned in embarrassment at being caught in just a bathrobe by the cute boy she likes. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”

He seems to notice her discomfort. “Michelle, I’m so sorry, I—” And it’s then that he starts rambling. “And I just got so excited about our date and I just wasn’t thinking clearly… like at all, and I usually sneak back into my room after patrol and since we’re neighbors and everything I guess I just got confused, which doesn’t usually happen, I promise this has never happened, and then I didn’t know what to do and all of a sudden you’re in here and I’m hiding behind your bed and— “ He takes a deep breath, hanging his head in shame. “God, I’m such an idiot!”

There’s a sharp knocking on the door; Peter nearly jumps out of his skin, and MJ seems just as jarred.

“RA on duty,” A firm voice calls from the other side of the door. “It’s quiet hours.”

“I should— I should, uh…” Peter stumbles over his words, unable to take his eyes off of the girl in front of him. “I should go back… to my room.”

“Oh, uhm— Yeah.” MJ nods awkwardly. She gestures to the door, eyebrows raising in question. 

Peter shakes his head, breathing out a shaky chuckle. “Oh, no… I’ll just go back the way I came.” He throws a thumb over his shoulder before planting his hands on his hips, giving a firm nod. 

It really stings how she doesn’t even look at him as she mumbles out another near-silent, “Yeah.”

And he leaves without another word. 

Man, he knew that Parker luck was something that had plagued his family for years and years, but he hadn’t expected it to hit so hard all at once. It had been quite a while since he’d fucked up that badly, so he thought he was in the clear. Maybe that had been his first mistake of many. Maybe he shouldn’t have let his guard down. 

A pit forms in his stomach, twisting and pulling in a vice-like grip as he returns to his own room. 

And now, the girl-of-his-dreams Michelle Jones, because he had been so lost in his own thoughts, because of his complete lapse in basic attention, probably wanted nothing to do with him. He knew he didn’t need to ask if their date was still on, and truthfully, he couldn’t really blame her, given that he’d invaded her personal space and embarrassed her. No, he didn’t expect her to want anything to do with him now. Especially not after the way she’d yelled at him. 

There’s been plenty of times that Peter’s fucked up, almost too many to count. But this… This was up there.

He doesn’t hear from her the next day, nor the day after, only seeing her when she comes to Psychology class that Friday. He can’t even bring himself to actually look at her when she sits in her usual spot next to him.

He mopes about the rest of the day, knowing full well that it’s his own stupid fault. Ned points this out, though he tries to remain sympathetic as he agrees that yes, Peter’s an absolute dumbass sometimes. 

But Ned also suggests actually talking to MJ about all this.

Peter immediately shoots that down. 

Instead, he decides to do the rest of his moping at the campus Starbucks, cheek resting against his hand as he reads the same sentence about the zone of proximal development over and over, his vanilla latte completely forgotten in all of his sulking.

“Why the long face?”

Her voice startles him out of his brooding state, and he immediately looks up, heart thumping in his ears as his eyes land on one Michelle Jones, two coffees in either hand.

“Uh—” Peter’s response isn’t his smoothest. He blinks in surprise, briefly wondering if he might be dreaming. “I—” His voice cuts off, finding that he can only stare up at her with this dopey, blank expression. 

“What? You thought I forgot?” She lifts her index finger from the side of one of the cups, pointing to her watch. “It’s 3:30. I’m right on time.”

A small smirk tugs at the corner of her lips, though she still seems to wait for his invitation to sit, the faintest hint of insecurity behind her eyes. 

Finally, Peter smiles back up at her, a breathless, shy chuckle escaping him. Her smirk turns into a full grin, and she pulls the chair out with her foot, setting both cups of coffee down as she sits. 

“I gotta say,” Peter starts, eyebrows pulled together in happy confusion. “I’m kinda surprised you still wanted to… get coffee with me. After… After, well, you know… I’m so, so sorry about that. Again.”

Michelle pushes one of the cups to him, taking a thoughtful sip from her own. “Eh, it’s fine.”

“Really?” Peter asks, pitched raised in minor disbelief. “I mean,” He pauses, huffing in amusement and slight embarrassment at his previous actions. “I’m kind of a dumbass.”

She shrugs, a playful glint in her eyes as she glances up from behind the cup. “Yeah,” She agrees readily after a moment’s contemplation. “You are.”

They both laugh quietly. 

No argument there.

“But… I’ve been thinking about it.” She puts her cup down, bracing both elbows on the table as she leans forward slightly, her voice incredibly nonchalant. “I think I kinda have a thing for dumbasses.”

“Oh? Really?” He breathes, butterflies in his stomach erupting. 

“Uh-huh.” MJ nods, eyes squinting as she fixes him with another sly smirk. “Especially ones that look that good in a skin-tight onesie.”

Peter’s sure his face could blend in with said onesie if he was actually wearing it, and he nearly chokes on his new latte. 

She tries to hide the snort that comes out of her, but fails miserably. 

“Well, don’t worry,” Peter lets out another, slightly less nervous, laugh, firing finger guns at the girl across from him, attempting a not-so-smooth wink. “There’s way more dumbassery where that came from.”

Her lips press together in a thin, yet incredibly cute smile that makes Peter’s heart soar, a welcome warmth washing over his body. “Good,” She says through a quiet laugh, shaking her head at him as she takes another sip from her coffee. 

Yup, he’s definitely in love.

[needdl]

NejitenMonth Day Two: Cursed

shhhh i know it’s august.

also available on FFN and AO3

It really, really sucked to be cursed in the modern era.

Of course, any era was considered the modern era when one was living in it, but Tenten meant the technological, Information Age, when being stuck as an admittedly adorable housecat was probably how she'd spend the rest of her life. People just didn't think about magic any more, so it didn't matter what she tried to do to show people she was a human- they just figured she was the smartest cat they'd ever met.

To bad she'd zoned out in calculus so often. Maybe if she knew how to take a derivative people would pay more attention.

Also, she was getting concerned, because she'd noticed her thoughts becoming more catlike over time- suggesting a permanent effect if she couldn't find someone who could change her back in time.

Unfortunately the wayward spell had picked her up and planted her back down someplace very, very far from Ino- who no doubt was feeling panicky and awful over turning her senior into a cat and then vanishing her. 

(The situation wasn't Ino's fault, not really, so if Tenten turned human again she'd definitely reassure Ino that she didn't blame her in the least.)

At least Tenten was safe- she'd appeared outside an herb and tea shop owned by a very nice young lady who immediately started feeding her, then adopted her.

She didn't know the woman's name- because the cat brain part of her didn't know or particularly care about human names- but she knew that she was small and soft and had dark hair and kind hands, and always smelled like cinnamon.

She talked to Tenten all the time, stuttering over some words, and it made Tenten think that maybe the woman was a little lonely. The shop saw a lot of business, so the loneliness was a little confusing to Tenten- but there was a difference between having customers and having friends.

How much time had passed since she’d come here? Tenten realized one day that she didn’t know, and the thought made her panic. She spent the night pacing in the shop and yowling at the moon, fighting to remember the distinctive shape of Lee’s eyes, the way Ino tried not to snort when she laughed, the rose-petal shade of Sakura’s hair.

There was a bit of string on the floor. Tenten batted it idly as she passed, then leapt up onto the tallest shelf in the room to sleep. 

The woman was running late opening the shop the next morning.

Tenten watched as she walked slowly through the shelves, taking inventory but seemingly in no hurry. It was already two hours after she normally opened.

“Miss Kitty!” Woman called in her quiet voice. Tenten occasionally trailed Woman around the shop when she was preparing to open, but today the lateness of the hour had thrown her off and she’d remained up on her shelf. “Where are… are you?”

Tenten meowed and stood up, tail twitching. Woman looked up at her with a smile. “There you are! Good morning!” She patted her shoulder and Tenten leapt down onto it, sleek and sure. Woman laughed breathlessly, delight painted across her features.

Tenten butted her head against Woman’s chin then jumped down and went to sit next to her food bowl, watching as Woman filled it with choice pieces of meat, then went off to finish inventory. Tenten ate breakfast, then settled in to snooze on a sunny windowsill. She was an attraction to customers, she knew it.

But not today, because apparently Woman wasn’t opening at all. Tenten lazily opened her eyes to watch the woman shuffle through some sheets of paper at the cashier’s desk, chewing her lip and smiling at them. It was a letter, Tenten realized, though she had no idea of the contents.

But she was a cat now. Cats were rude.

With this in mind, Tenten silently jumped off the windowsill and walked over to where Woman was reading the papers. She timed it perfectly so she had restacked all the papers, the first one at the top again, then leapt into the air.

Her paws landed thump-thump-thump on the papers, and she looked up at Woman with a loud, chirping mrrrt!

Woman laughed and raised her hand to pet her, and Tenten twined herself against her fingers in such a way that she was staring down at the near-perfect calligraphy on the letter. 

Hinata-sama, 

I’m pleased that you’re doing well. Hanabi-sama and I were concerned after we didn’t hear from you for so long, and she was about to go charging after you with or without Hiashi-sama’s permission. You can my imagine my relief when your letters arrived.

As always, anything you should need from the Clan is yours to claim.

Tenten had to stop reading then, because it would have been too long for a cat to stare at a piece of paper, but she had a name for Woman now. Hinata. It was pretty. 

She moved suddenly, throwing herself against Hinata’s hands again, this time rustling the papers so the very last paragraphs of the final page was visible to her. 

The same script as before continued.

… and if it would suit you, I would like to come visit the shop. I am available the first weeks of March, so please let me know when would be ideal for you. And I’ve no desire to put you out, as I know how small your space is, so I will be staying at one of the town’s inns.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Yrs, 

Neji Hyuga

So they were to have visitors, then, sometime in early March. Tenten tried to think of what time of the year it was- she’d been cursed in late October, and had been with Hinata through the New Year, and these past couple days there had been many customers coming to buy a tea blend for the upcoming Hana Matsuri festival…

No. No, that couldn’t be right, because then that would mean Tenten had been cursed for almost five months now. And she couldn’t- that was so long- surely someone would have found her by then-

The door chimed as someone stepped in, and Hinata looked up from her peaceful cat petting with a wide smile. “N- Neji-niisan!”

Well, that was damning. It was officially early March, and Tenten had spent nearly half a year as a cat.

The man who entered and smiled at Hinata’s greeting was undeniably her brother, as she so addressed him. He was slightly above average height for a man, which meant he towered over his sister, with a build that suggested he exercised regularly. His eyes were shaped exactly like Hinata’s, though the color was more gray than lavender, and his hair was long and dark and tied in a knot at the base of his neck.

He was very, very handsome. 

Tenten realized she wasn’t having a terribly cat-ish reaction to his entrance- she should jump off the desk, maybe, and then slink off- but the man hadn’t noticed her yet, instead taking long strides and meeting Hinata in the middle of the room to hug her. Tenten sat down on the letter to watch as they interrupted each other through half a conversation, asking each other about the shop and the Clan and Hanabi and how have you been? No, how have you been? No, how have you-

It was the politest non-argument Tenten had ever seen, and highly entertaining to watch, but the man caught sight of her on the desk and went stock-still. His previously happy expression went terrifyingly blank, and he said in a low voice, “Hinata. What is that.”

Hinata turned to look at her, bewildered. “The… cat?”

“That is not a cat,” he replied, stepping in front of her and throwing out a protective arm. “That is something wearing a cat. What the hell is it doing here-”

“She’s, she’s a cat! She’s my cat. I ca-call her Miss Kitty!”

“Hinata, I do not believe for one second that your withdrawal from the Hyuga Clan has left you this oblivious. Just Look at her and you’ll see it.”

“You didn’t Look, I- I don’t see why you’re, you’re so sure ab-about Miss Kitty!”

“I am not so casual in my use of our family’s talents that they can be seen so easily.”

Hinata scowled at him. “F-fine.” She turned her gaze to Tenten, who had been watching and doing her best to swallow her panic. She hadn’t done anything wrong, just tried to make the best of her situation, but the man’s conviction that she meant harm to his sister did not bode well for her. 

Hinata tilted her head, and suddenly it felt to Tenten like the universe was funneling its gaze into the shop, holding its breath. Hinata blinked, and when she opened her eyes they were ice white, veins at her temples bulging and magic swirling at her fingertips.

Tenten blinked at her as all the fur along her spine wrenched itself upright and her tail puffed out.

Hinata looked at Tenten for mere milliseconds before gasping and staggering back against her brother, who caught her with a grim look. He did not seem pleased to have been proven right.

Hinata’s magic faded, and the universe sighed and looked away once more. 

But things in the little herb shop remained just as chaotic. The man shoved Hinata behind him again and barked, “What are you?”

How the hell did he expect her to respond to that? She could only speak in cat. She glared at him, fur still poofed, and tried to telepathically communicate to him that he was an idiot. 

Apparently some of her message got through, because his tight expression darkened into a glower. Hinata peeked over his shoulder, chewing her lip, and muttered, “She’s-she’s been with me for… for months, Neji-niisan; I-I think if sh-she intended ha-harm… harm, she would have al-already done s… so.”

Tenten meowed hesitantly in affirmation. The man looked like he’d swallowed a lemon, but relaxed his stance slightly. Tenten didn’t doubt for a moment that he’d be ready to defend his sister again at any second.

Some time later, Hinata had dug out some old spell books (and Tenten was kicking herself for not realizing that the former heiress of the Hyuga Clan had taken her in, of all people) and she and her brother were poring over them as they discussed the situation. Tenten was watching from her assigned perch on Hinata’s windowsill- Neji had herded her over there and told her to stay, then Hinata had absently scratched her chin and said “Please” so Tenten had agreed to it. 

Neji had tied up his hair to the top of his head, and Tenten was trying not to think about what it was doing to his cheekbones and jawline, because he was still an asshole no matter how good-looking he was. “I think we should use the truth spell first. We can find out her intentions.”

“O-only if we ask if she knows anything that might reverse the spell and help her.” Hinata pushed the sentence out all in one breath, which seemed to improve her stutter but did nothing for her lungs. She panted as she stared at her brother, wide-eyed.

After a long moment, he muttered, “Fine,” and averted his gaze. Hinata gave him a wide-eyed, half disbelieving look of smugness. Tenten laughed in cat.

They performed the truth spell, and Tenten felt it sink slowly into her, settling along her veins and rushing along with her heart. Neji scowled at her and asked, “What are you, who are you, and why are you here?”

This idiot. Tenten scowled back and snapped. “How the fuck am I supposed to answer that, genius? In cat?”

All of which came out in perfect speech. 

He looked insufferably smug. “As if I would overlook such a detail in circumstances like this.”

“Yeah, and did you include the part about making it compulsory for me to respond to all you questions?” Even as she snarked him, Tenten appreciated the warm cadences of her voice after not hearing it for so long. 

His silence after her question was very telling. She twitched her whiskers in a cat-grin and told him, “Fortunately I would like to get out of this situation just as much as you would have me out of your sisters house. Ask me your questions and I shall answer to my best knowledge.”

Hinata cut in quietly, “What is your name?”

“Tenten. No surname."

"What are you?" Neji asked, sending Hinata a quelling look. Clearly he had told her that he'd do the questioning.

"Human." She considered them carefully, then added "A sorceress. I study at the Senju Academy for Magical Beings."

"Oh!" Delight painted Hinata's features. "Do you know Naruto Uzumaki?"

Tenten thought of the last time she physically threw Naruto out of a lab for being disruptive. "Yes."

Neji cut in again. "How did a sorceress come to be caught in this enchantment?"

"What, you think I did this on purpose?" She glared. "I was practicing with one of my tutor students and she misspoke and then redirected a spell. An accident."

Neji did not look satisfied, but the truth spell did not flare to indicate a lie. "How did you come here? The Academy is on the other side of the world."

“I’m not sure. I would conjecture that it was part of the spell mispronunciation. I was transported to this town and took shelter in the alley outside. Hinata found me and took me in.” She paused, and gave Hinata her best thankful look. “Thank you, by the way.”

Hinata ducked her chin and blushed, smiling at the ground. “You- you’re very welcome, Tenten-san.”

“And your intentions here?”

“Well- not none, exactly. To remain alive and healthy. I wish to be reverted back to my natural form and to be home again.” Tenten wrapped her tail around her paws and tilted her head up to meet his icy gaze. "I mean no harm to any here."

 He considered for many long moments, then nodded once.

"Very well. Hinata, what do you remember about transformation spells? I was never taught much about them."

"W-well, usually you say the… the spell backwards. T-Tenten-san, do you r… recall how it went?"

Tenten frowned thoughtfully. "Maybe I can figure out parts of it. How long will my speech ability last?"

"Another hour," Neji muttered. He was flipping through a spellbook, but looked up to meet her eyes. "I can redo it if needed." 

"All right." Tenten hopped down from the windowsill and stretched, back arching. Out of habit she leaned against Hinata's hands to be petted, and out of habit Hinata scratched her chin. They both recognized the silliness of the situation of the same time, and Tenten snickered over Hinata self-conscious giggle.

"Per-perhaps when you are… are back to normal, Tenten-san, I c-can stay with-with you and contin- continue to give chin scratches."

"Heavens know I'll need it, after being a cat for so long." Tenten let out a mrrrt of amusement.

Neji just scowled at them both with a skeptical eye.

The mood was considerably heavier seven hours later, when all attempts had failed to get Tenten back to her human form.

Hinata was leaning tiredly against the wall after casting all the spells, knees drawn up to her chin as she watched Neji mutter furiously to himself over a spell book. The last speech spell on Tenten had worn off half an hour ago but no one had seen the point in replacing it, so Tenten was seated next to Neji on the ground, staring into space.

The first counterspell hadn't done anything at all, not that they had really expected it to, and each attempt after that had seemed better and better. But four spells in and they'd hit a rut, and had made no further progress in an hour.

Hinata’s fourth spell had caused magic to go sinking into Tenten's bones and had seemed truly promising, but when nothing further happened they had no idea how to progress from there. All the possible iterations of the spell that Tented could recall were scrawled out on various pieces of paper around the room, rustling in the night breeze.

Neji suddenly sat back with a curse, startling both of them. He rubbed at his eyes and said, "It seems like it should be much easier." Tenten nodded.

"I think we-we should wrap up for th-the night," Hinata said. “Miss Kit- um, T-Tenten, are you- you still comfortable wi-with sleeping here? I don’t… I don’t have anoth-er bed-”

“She can stay with me in the inn,” Neji didn’t even look up from his book. “My room has the space, plus I can monitor the spellwork throughout the night. You need to rest.” She did look pale and drawn, after doing all the casting that day.

Hinata was about to protest- and Tenten herself wasn’t sure about how she felt about staying with this man, who was admittedly less of an asshole now that he trusted her more but was still a stranger- but Neji cut her off and said, “There’s an extra futon in my room.” Tenten bit back a laugh at the idea of one smallish cat having an entire futon to herself and gave Hinata a nod. She chewed her lip before nodding in agreement. 

Soon after, Tenten was loping along at Neji’s feet as he strode down the street towards his inn, face carefully blank. It was late enough that there were very few people on the street, and Tenten’s dark fur was easily just a part of the shadows. 

Just outside the inn, Neji paused and furrowed his brow. “They are unlikely to let pets in, and my room is several stories up.”

Tenten looked at him. He didn’t have a bag or anything to hide her in… He cleared his throat and undid the tie in his hair so it flowed over his shoulders.

Oh. Tenten understood what he was doing now. (To herself, she noted that this hairstyle change also looked really good on him, but whatever.) 

He cleared his throat, again, and awkwardly indicated to her that she should climb onto his shoulder. She jumped up easily and tried not to use her claws to keep her balance. His shoulders were very broad and muscular, so it was relatively easy.

He shifted his neck and she slinked underneath his curtain of hair, shifting so she was fully covered. Fortunately, she was not a big cat. Or even a medium-sized cat. She was barely larger than a kitten, actually.

Neji’s skin was warm and he smelled slightly of men’s shampoo and conditioner, and as he made his way upstairs Tenten found herself fighting back a purr.

She realized, as Neji scanned his key card, that this was undoubtedly the nicest inn in town, and one of the nicest rooms. Clearly the Hyuga was accustomed to a certain level of comfort.

Lousy rich bastards, all of them, Tenten thought, flexing her claws a little in Neji’s neck. Except Hinata, she amended. They entered the room, and she pushed off his shoulder to thump onto the floor.

“Very well,” he murmured. He reached out and turned on the lights, and Tenten stared at the elegant decor of the room. “I’m going to prepare for bed. I don’t suppose you need me to fold out the futon, do you?”

Tenten responded by leaping lightly onto it and settling in with her paws tucked underneath her, then blinking up at him. He nodded once and gave her the ghost of a smile, then went into the bathroom and closed the door.

Tenten was asleep when he came back out, so he turned off the lights and quietly went to bed.

The clock struck three, and Tenten rolled off the futon with a loud clatter.

Startled, she blurted, “What the hell?” and shoved herself onto her feet, staggering as she went up. Why was it so hard to balance all the sudden? It was like her tail wasn’t following directions-

Aha. She no longer had a tail, because she’d turned back into a human. Her own body, as a matter of fact.

There was the sound of movement by the bed and the light suddenly clicked on. Neji sat calmly in the bed, arms raised and gun pointing steadily at her head. Tenten was almost too busy being blinded by the sudden brightness to recognize the threat. 

Hastily she blurted, “Neji-san, it’s me. Tenten.” 

He responded by cocking the gun. “Talk fast.”

“About what, asshole? I don’t know what happened. Maybe one of the counterspells partially took hold earlier and just finished setting in.”

Not one bit of an expression crossed his face as he calmly recited the incantation for the truth spell. Tenten rolled her eyes, “Seriously-”

“Start again,” he snapped.

“Fine, fine. God. It’s me, Tenten, the person you were working on all day yesterday to help me out of the cat spell. I intend no harm to you or your sister.”

“Hinata is my cousin.”

“Really?” She blinked at him, curious, but his dark expression dissuaded her from asking any more questions. “Okay, whatever. I intend no harm to you or your cousin.” He relaxed minutely, and she couldn’t help but snark, “Paranoid much?”

“I am rightfully cautious.” He set the gun back under his pillow, suddenly avoiding looking at her. “Let me get you some clothes.”

His slight blush as he said it made her quirk a brow, but as she reconsidered her new (slash old) body, she realized what had him so hot and bothered. Cats didn’t wear clothes, after all, and it stood to reason that she wouldn’t have any when she transformed back. 

So she’d been steadily showcasing her fully nude figure to him for the past couple of minutes. Nice. 

Tenten beat back her embarrassment and accepted the loose shirt and pants he offered her. She pulled on the shirt first, tugging her hair out of the collar so it could fall over her shoulders (it was longer than when she’d first been transformed, which was interesting), then the pants, tying the drawstring tightly so they wouldn’t slip off her waist.

“Done.” At her indication, Neji turned back towards her, still blushing slightly. It reminded her of Hinata, which made her bite back a smile. But he straightened up, taller than her by a good few inches, and she was reminded that in some very crucial ways, he and Hinata were quite different.

“I expected you to be shorter, frankly,” he told her. She blinked at him, surprised by how menial the statement was, and he grimaced slightly. “You’re very small as a cat.”

“Oh. Yeah, and I’m pretty tall for a human woman.” She grinned at him, rejoicing in the feeling. 

He nodded once, giving her a twitch of his lips in return, then asked, “So what happened?”

They were deep into discussion some time later, sitting on the bed and talking with their heads bent close together about the various phrases they had used earlier, scribbling out ideas for what had happened with Ino’s spell in the first place, when the clock chimed four, and Tenten was a cat again. 

She was midspeech when her words suddenly turned into meows, and after a moment spent staring in befuddlement at the pile of clothes she was engulfed in, she hissed in disappointment.  Neji stared at her, one hand frozen mid-reach to assist her.

After a moment, he sat back and sighed, pinching his brow. “Well, as we thought, it’s not permanent. It seems you were human just for the witching hour.” 

Tenten, struggling out of the pile of his clothing, chirped in agreement. He looked at her  and gave her a tired smile. “I’ll clean this up. You should get some more rest; we’ll tell everything to Hinata in the morning and maybe send a message to the Academy.” 

Tenten nodded in understanding, then in a moment that truly showed how much she’d warmed to him, butted her head against his arm before jumping off the bed and padding over to the futon to sleep. 

She didn’t look back at him as she walked away, but if she had, she might have seen the fleetingly pleased smile he gave her.

The next morning, over tea, Neji explained to Hinata the events of the night before. Tenten mostly zoned out, watching the refined movements of both of them through their elaborate ceremony.

They probably didn’t even realize they were doing it, but somewhere between having good manners and Neji showing respect to the heiress they were getting nowhere with the conversation.

But rather than cutting in, Tenten just laid down in the patch of sunlight creeping across the floor and allowed her eyes to close.

She was drowsing happily, a purr rumbling in her chest, when Neji gently nudged her awake by setting his hand on her narrow shoulder blades. She snapped her eyes open with a brrrp? 

His mouth twitched again in what she’d come to realize was him hiding a smile. “Hinata went to open up shop. We agreed to go through the spellwork again later, and I sent a message to the Academy about your situation.”

Tenten nodded and arched her back under his hand as he absentmindedly stroked her fur for a few seconds, then seemed to remember himself and began packing away Hinata’s tea set. Tenten slinked out of the room and down into the shop, settling into the windowsill by the street and blinking out at the people passing by. 

After a few minutes, she realized that the group of young women across the street weren’t window shopping like she originally thought, but staring into the herb shop and giggling. Tenten half-turned to see what had captivated their attention and was greeted by the sight of Neji, a staff apron over his business casual clothes and his hair in a low bun, stocking one of the shelves.

If Tenten were seven years younger and surrounded by her groups of friends, she’d probably giggle admiringly at him too.

But she wasn’t, she was twenty-three and also stuck as a cat, so instead she rolled onto her back in the sun and purred. 

Customers flowed in and out of the shop as always, chatting with Hinata and trying to chat with a flat-expressioned Neji. Some of them offered her pets and some of them tried to get her to bat at pieces of string, but it was hard for her to pretend to be a cat again after being so close to reversing the spell.

After she couldn’t handle the cooing and baby talk any longer, she climbed up to the highest shelf to sulk and watch the crowd. 

Mid-afternoon, with the sun at its highest peak and the heat nearly unbearable, not many people were shopping. Tenten waited until she was certain the rumble had quieted until further notice, then leapt down on an unsuspecting Hinata’s shoulder. 

She startled minutely, but it wasn’t the first time it had happened and she quickly regained her bearings and smiled happily. “H-hello, Tenten-san. We’re about to… to have some lunch.” Tenten mao-ed and climbed down Hinata’s back to follow her to the cashier’s desk, where Neji had pulled out bento boxes.

Tenten sprawled out on the countertop as they ate quietly and discussed the sales that morning- Neji seemed very interested in Hinata’s business experience so far, and she was happy to oblige him. 

Tenten, with nothing to contribute- and no way to contribute- idly hooked her claws through a bit of fish Neji was mostly ignoring, then ate it. 

He gave her an offended look, and she presented him with a happy-cat face and purred.

Some of the giggling young women from earlier had worked up the courage to come in the shop after lunch. Three of them fumbled their way through a conversation with Neji- who was more gracious about it than Tenten would have given him credit for- while a fourth petted Tenten with laser-like intensity, occasionally looking up at Neji and going crimson.

It was very sweet, and they all left with some tea and essential oils that they had asked Hinata about, very earnestly and excitedly. Tenten was feeling quite fond of all of them when they left, and licked the fingertips of the shy petter before she departed- startling a giggle from her.

The three of them were all in a happy mood when they closed up the shop and went up to Hinata’s apartment, and it was with a hopeful air that they pulled out their spellbooks and settling into magic.

They hadn’t yet heard back from the Academy, but Neji said that when he’d sent the note via a transportation spell, he’d received an audio spell saying that the Academy was currently in the midst of overhauling its message system and that it might take a couple days to respond to any messages, thank you for your understanding. So for now they were on their own.

But Tenten was already feeling much more hopeful- even if she didn’t transform briefly again tonight, she had two very intelligent magic users working with her now. Her odds were looking better and better.

One speech spell later and she was rattling through all the transformation spells she’d been forced to memorize in her undergraduate work, as Hinata took rapid notes and chewed her lip. Neji was staring through Tenten, a slight furrow between his brows.

Once Tenten couldn’t remember any more spells, they picked through them all to see if they had any common words or phrases that Ino may have used. They consulted more spellbooks, though at this point they’d read most of them to the point of memorization, and Hinata once more cast numerous counterspells that left Tenten feeling pretty damn magicked but did not change her back to human.

When Hinata was almost asleep on her feet- Tenten wasn’t sure why Neji didn’t cast, but she’d wager almost anything it had to do with the Hyuga branch system- Neji herded his cousin into bed, shut off all the lights, and locked up the shop before he and Tenten once more retired to his rooms for the night.

Tenten woke up freezing cold and unsure as to why. It was only about eleven o’clock, and she was still a cat, but her fur wasn’t warming her and it felt like she was being turned to ice from the inside out.

Somehow, she managed to stumble across the room and leap onto Neji’s bed, batting at him to get his attention. He startled awake, one hand going to the gun once again carefully tucked under the pillow before he realized, “Tenten?”

He was a beacon of warmth and she threw herself against him, trembling. 

He raised a cautious hand to her back and said sharply, “You’re freezing.” He lifted her up- which was very disconcerting, he hadn’t done that before- and settled her against his chest, arms around her and slowly seeping warmth back into her.

“It might be part of a spell. Is this helping?” She nodded and tucked her head under his chin, trying to leech as much warmth off of him as she could. They sat in silence for a few minutes as Tenten’s internal temperature righted itself, and Neji murmured, “I’m sorry you have to experience this.”

Tenten let out an almost silent noise in response. He continued, “If I were better at casting, or at the practical applications of transformations spells-” Irritated by his doubts, Tenten reached up and smacked his chin with her paw.

He let out a startled grunt, then muttered “Point taken.” 

Another few minutes passed in silence, and Tenten found herself feeling warm and sluggish. She slowly began falling asleep against Neji’s chest. After a moment of softly calling her name and her ignoring him, he laid back down in bed with her on his chest.

He stroked his hand down her spine. “Maybe I should get a cat after all this. A non-cursed one.” She responded by nestling her face against his neck and starting to purr.

In their relief at settling her back down (and conquering the coldness curse- take that, curse!) they forgot that Tenten might possibly transform back again that night, completely naked.

So it was with much embarrassment from both of them when the clock struck three, and Neji found himself cradling Tenten against his chest, his hand splayed across her bare lower back and her face pressed against his neck, short, sweet breaths puffing against his skin. 

Most incriminatingly, her leg was draped over his waist and between his own, a warm weight against him.

It was definitely a position that screamed “post-coital intimacy!” despite the fact that Neji was fully clothed and under the covers.

They separated from each other with a lot of awkward stammering and averted gazes, and Neji hastily offered Tenten the blankets, which she yanked over her chest. They sat in silence for a few moments, staring determinedly in opposite directions as their flushes faded.

Neji cleared his throat a few times, but never said anything after, seemingly unable to think of the words. After a few minutes, Tenten muttered, “Uh, sorry. Didn’t think that one through.”

“It’s… fine.” They peered at each other out of the corner of their eyes, made eye contact, and immediately looked away again. Tenten coughed.

Finally, she said, “So which spell do you think affected my internal temperature?” and some of the tension broke. Neji was much better at spell theory than he gave himself credit for, and his fascination with the subject shone through when he discussed it.

He’d been talking for several minutes straight about the ways to conjugate some words that completely changed their meanings when he noticed the smile she was giving him. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” She bit her lip in an effort to tone down the smile. “You’re just really smart.”

“Thank you,” he said immediately, barely even registering her statement. It was obviously a compliment he was used to receiving. Tenten pouted a little, put off by his easy brush off as he continued his lecture. She wanted his focus on her.

He had grabbed the notepad and pen off his nightstand to illustrate the point he was talking about when she decided the best way to get his attention was to lean over and kiss him.

God, I hope I’ve been reading these signals correctly, she thought to herself, parting her mouth slightly so their lips fit together. She was gratified a few moments later when there was the soft touch of a hand cupping her jaw, and Neji’s mouth moved against hers. She smiled into the kiss, inordinately pleased. 

They pulled away gently, grinning at each other. Neji ducked his chin a little, looking almost shy, and Tenten breathlessly giggled. “That was nice.”

“Y-yes, it was.” He flicked his tongue over his bottom lip and her eyes tracked the motion. “Do you- that is-” She tilted her head and smiled at him, that same fond smile as before she’d kissed him. He seemed to struggle for words. 

“When- when your curse is broken.” He paused and stared at her.

She raised her brows, still smiling, and he rushed on.

“Once you’re back at the Academy- well, I travel a lot, on behalf of the Hyuga Clan, and if I’m in the area…” 

“Yes,” she said immediately. 

He grinned. Tenten noticed he had the beginning of a dimple forming on one cheek and wondered why she hadn’t seen it before, then realized he’d never smiled so much or so widely at her. 

“Yes?”

“Yes, I’d like for you to visit. Or- I’d like to keep seeing you. I guess I don’t know for sure what direction you were going with that.”

The grin crooked into a teasing smirk. “Perhaps I was going to ask if you would travel abroad each time I was there so I could avoid you.”

“HA!” She snorted. “Yeah right. I’m hot, smart, funny, and I’m into you.”

She thought on it a moment, then added, “Plus I’m under a really interesting curse. I’m basically your dream girl.” 

He leaned forward and kissed her again. “True enough.” The rough edge in his voice as he murmured it made goosebumps erupt over her skin- except no, not just that, because the clock had struck four and Tenten was a cat.

Neji scowled and sat back in bed. “I really was hoping we had it this time.” Tenten nodded, then realized he probably wouldn’t be kissing her like that for the next twenty-three hours and her mood instantly flipped to the “enraged” side of the spectrum.

“FUCK,” she said loudly. Astonishingly enough, it was in perfect human speech. They gaped at each other.

Neji’s brow furrowed. “Can you… speak?”

“I dunno.” Tenten replied, then paused. “”Hm, I guess I can.” She grinned brightly up at him- as much as a cat could, anyway. “Progress!” 

He smiled and stroked her head. “Progress.”

Hinata delighted in talking to Tenten the next morning, and Tenten found great joy in hearing the sound of her own voice again. She talked brightly with both Hyuga cousins about their own work in spells, their personal lives, their interests, anything she could think of. 

(There was a certain undercurrent of affection between her and Neji that hadn’t existed the day before, and it made Tenten feel very soft and melt-y.)

It sucked when they had to open the shop and Tenten had to go back to just being a cat. She amused herself by following Neji around and twining herself around his ankles while he tried to walk. After the third time he almost stumbled, he scooped her up and placed her on his shoulder, where she happily cuddled herself against his neck and purred loudly during his conversations with customers.

They closed for lunch again, and while Hinata was doing some quick restocking Neji plucked Tenten off his shoulder, looked her in the eye, and told her sagely, “You are very annoying.”

She laughed. “Thanks, I try very hard.”

He pursed his lips and set her down on the counter, fighting a smile. 

They ate lunch in the back room. Halfway through their meal and conversation about which laptop was best for a work device, there was a pounding on the shop door. Hinata frowned and went to answer, then suddenly shrieked. There was a loud thumping of footsteps and a figure burst through the door to the backroom. 

It leapt through the air and towards Tenten, and she was just about to see if she could summon a sword or two to stab it when the very air screamed and the figure yanked to a stop.

Hinata stood with one palm thrust forward, a snarl on her face and her eyes a terrifying white.

Tenten’s tiny cat chest heaved as she gasped for breath, staring at Hinata around Neji’s arm- because he’d leapt in front of her to protect her, she realized. Once her heart rate had calmed slightly, (and her fur had smoothed down, she hadn’t realized she’d puffed herself up defensively but indeed she had) she leaned around Neji to see the attacking figure.

The second she saw the green color, she groaned. “Lee, for fuck’s sake.”

Lee, bug-eyed and frozen mid-leap as he reached to hug her, let out a muffled grunt of Emotions™.

“I know him,” She told Neji and Hinata. “He’s a graduate student at the Academy too. We’ve known each other forever. He’s just excitable; sorry about that, Hinata.”

Hinata turned that skin-crawling gaze upon her for a few seconds, then lowered her palm. Lee hit the floor with a thump and immediately sprang to his feet, yelling, “Tenten! You’re okay! We’ve found you!” over and over until he’d wrapped his huggy octopus arms around her and was weeping into her fur.

Normally she’d roll her eyes and snap at him for being dramatic, but she’d been missing for almost six months and was just as glad to see him. A purr rumbled up from her chest and she did nothing to quiet it.

Lee wiped his eyes on his sleeve and said, “Is that- are you purring?”

“Yep.”

“That’s adorable.”

“Thanks.” She started grooming his eyebrow, which made him squawk and toss her back onto the countertop. She landed neatly, laughing at him.

She realized abruptly that Neji, standing behind the pair of them, was giving her a look that screamed “Introductions and explanations, now”. She twitched her whiskers at him in a cat-smile and said, “Lee, these are my friends Hinata and Neji. Hinata adopted me as a cat before she knew I was cursed, and Neji’s been instrumental in making progress on a counterspell.”

The three of them looked at each other, Lee with great joy and Hinata with caution. Neji was expressionless but still managed to exude skepticism. 

Tenten gave him as close as she could to a pleading look, and his shoulders softened slightly. “Lee-san, were you sent from the Academy?”

“Correct!” Lee gave him a thumbs up and a bright grin. “I am something of a forward scout, sent to find Tenten and check on her situation before I bring her home!” He turned that smile onto Tenten and she purred, feeling very fond of him.

Lee continued, “I will send notice to our friends and professors at the Academy, as we were all in a panic, and if it is all right with you, Hinata-san, I will direct them here to help with undoing the course.” He looked apologetic. “I am something of a failure when it comes to most spellcasting.”

Hinata instantly warmed to him at his self put-down. “O-oh, I’m sure… sure you’re no-t, Lee-san.”

“Yes he is,” Tenten chimed in, leaping onto Neji’s shoulder and settling into her favorite spot against his neck. She would miss it when she was human again and too big to wedge into it. “Lee’s awful at everything except self-directed combat magic, at which he excels in to a ridiculous amount.”

She thought on it a moment, whiskers twitching against Neji’s skin, then added, “Probably the best in the world.”

“NO!” Lee’s bellow made Hinata take half a step back. “GAI-SENSEI IS THE BEST IN THE WORLD, TENTEN HOW COULD YOU EVEN SAY THAAAAAT!”

"Because you've surpassed him, dummy," Tenten said conversationally. "Whatever. Lee, is there another team on its way after you?"

He sniffed and wiped at his eyes. "Yes. They should be here by this evening." He scrunched up his nose. "Ah! I must secure some accommodations for us all. Hinata-san, can you recommend an inn that accept about five other people?"

"O-oh! Of co-course, Lee-san. L-let me pull… pull out my ma-p…" Her voice trailed off as she and Lee headed to the office, Lee's bright, amicable chatter pausing every so often for Hinata's slow murmur.

Neji tensed like he wanted to go after them, but Tenten gently pricked his shoulder with her claws. "Lee's the nicest person in the world. One time he stepped on a worm and cried for twenty minutes."

He turned his head slightly so she could see his smile in profile. "Maybe I'm concerned on his behalf. Hinata is very fierce." 

Tenten couldn't stop a laugh from bubbling up. "I can't think of one circumstance in which Hinata would be fierce."

"Protecting the people she cares about," he told her, and reached up to stroke her head.

Lee came back over to the shop after he had rented the rooms at the inn and “helped” them with the last few shopping hours of the day, meaning he stopped every few seconds to exclaim over a product he loved. It actually wound up being a huge help in selling said products, and he and Hinata got along splendidly.

(Neji was still a little skeptical of him.)

Right after closing, there was a loud, brisk knock on the door- the back door, which was ominous. Hinata went to answer it- somewhat cautiously, and given what had happened with Lee last time Tenten didn’t blame her.

Tsunade Senju’s impressive figure stood in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest and her fingers drumming against her bicep. Her eyes darted down to meet Hinata’s, and she smirked. 

“Hyuga-sama. It’s been some time.”

Hinata numbly shook her hand. “Is th-that- have we m-met?”

“You may not remember,” Tsunade responded carelessly. “You were only a kid. You and your father were visiting the Academy so he could consult with us about the information we had on the Hyuga Clan’s history when we were expanding the library. You disappeared for three hours and we found you in the garden happily digging up our flowerbeds with the Inuzuka and Aburame heirs.”

Hinata was staring at her wide-eyed, but her eyes gleamed at the mention of the other clans. “Kiba and Shino!”

“That’s right.” Tsunade grinned. “Now, I heard you’ve picked up an errant grad student of mine.”

Hinata was quick to welcome Tsunade upstairs, and then fifteen minutes later welcome Shizune Katō, Shikaku Nara, Sakura Haruno, and Ino Yamanaka.

Ino immediately launched herself at Tenten, bawling her eyes out and dampening her fur. (Behind her, the others were quietly going around with introductions). Tenten just sat in Ino’s embrace awkwardly until she pulled back, wiped at her eyes, and wailed, “TENTEN I’M SO GLAD I DIDN’T KILL YOOOOOOUUUU-”

“I am too,” Tenten told her. “And all things considered, it hasn’t been awful. Most people like cats.”

Ino sniffled. “Well, then, I’m glad to have provided you with a new experience.” She sat down primly, already over it, and Tenten grinned. 

Tsunade slapped her palm down on the table. “All right, let’s get to work. Tenten, Ino said you were tutoring her through a transformation spell on some Daphnia. She stumbled with the wording, redirected the magic, and poof. Cat.”

Tenten nodded, flicking her eyes up to watch Neji as he entered the room with a tea set and began pouring for their guests. He half glanced at her and she blinked slowly at him, then turned back to Tsunade as she ruminated on the spellwork. 

Hinata had been sitting off to the side, a little squashed in the small room, chewing her lip in anxiety. She swallowed hard and said, “P-p-pardon me-me, Tsu-Tsunade-sama.” Tsunade turned her head to show she was listening. “Neji-niisan and… and I have been work-working with Tenten-san t-to develop… develop a c-counterspell. I-I have the… the folder here…” She drew it out and passed it down the line of Sakura, Shizune, Tsunade.

Tsunade snapped it open to peruse, handing the sheets to Shikaku once she’d finished reading them. He skimmed them with a much more analyzing eye than she did, then grunted, “Ino, you have your drafts of the exact words you used, right? These are almost all the way there, we just need the last push.”

“Yep.” Ino fished around in her boob pocket and pulled out a startlingly crisp sheet of paper. “I added more swearing to my most recent draft. For realism.”

“You’re a fuckin’ poet, kid,” he grunted, taking the paper. Ino grinned. “Thanks.”

Shikaku spread out all the pieces of paper and pulled a pen out of his pocket, then- after a beat- muttered, “Ah, shit,” and pulled out a pair of reading glasses. He put them on, grumbling.

Ino laughed loudly. “Shikaku-ojisan is old!” 

“I am forty-six,” he told her. “Your dad’s forty-seven, go bother him instead.”

“He’s not here, is he?” Ino shot back. 

Tsunade interjected, “For fuck’s sake, could you two focus for three minutes? Between the two of you shit-talking each other we haven’t gotten a second of peace this entire trip.”

“I’m contractually obligated to bother him as much as possible,” Ino chirped. “Part of the Ino-Shika-Cho agreement.”

Sakura squinted at her suspiciously. “You’ve never deliberately annoyed Chōza like that in your life.”

Ino seemed offended at the very idea. “Of course not! Chōza’s super nice.”

“Brat,” Shikaku muttered. He scrawled something out on a new piece of paper and slid it towards Ino. “Try this one.”

She looked stunned. “Me?”

“Yes.”

“What- I’m sure I’m not the best caster here-”

“You’re the original caster, so it’ll be most effective coming from you,” Shizune said, somewhat unexpectedly. Usually her presence alongside Tsunade’s was to keep her on track and mostly sober. Abruptly Tenten remembered that she was Ino’s undergraduate counselor- a rare role for Shizune, and one she volunteered for. “Go ahead, magelet. Sound it out first.”

Ino stared at her for a few more seconds, eyes wide, before a determined scowl made its way across her face and she ducked her chin to read the paper. After a beat, she said carefully, 

“!KCAB EMOC !KCUF -dnes t’now I ﹑ti nmad ﹑gnitsac llits m’I ﹑on -dnes ll’I ﹑siht xif nac I ﹑oN !NETNET !netneT -naem t’ndid I ﹑kcuf -netneT ﹑oN ؟netneT ﹑thgir -ainhpaD siht mrofsnart ﹑tish ﹑tiaw ﹑on -ym mrofsnarT

:htraE fo serutaerC dnA

tsiM fo stiripS”. 

There was a pause, and Ino took a breath. “Geez, that’s a mouthful.”

She looked up just in time to see Neji drape a blanket over Tenten to protect her modesty. She looked tired and a little worn, but she gave her junior a grin and said, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Ino replied, a little stunned. Suddenly she grinned and said, “Wow! First try!”

“Nice one,” Tenten agreed. She looked a little self-conscious under everyone’s scrutiny, pulling the edges of the blanket tighter over her chest. 

Hinata looked like she had just as much secondhand embarrassment. “Tenten-san, wou-would you… like to b-borrow something to-to wear?”

“Yes, please,” she muttered. Hinata stood up and she followed, wrapping the blanket around herself awkwardly so as not to trip. Neji watched them leave with sharp focus, eyes fixed to the back of Tenten’s head.

Meanwhile Tsunade sat back and rolled a shoulder. “Well, that was very neatly done and much less complicated than I thought it would be.” Shikaku and Sakura both made noises of agreement, and Shizune reached around Tsunade to squeeze Ino’s hand. 

Neji felt slightly awkward in a room full of people that he’d never met, and looked at Lee to give himself something to do- he had been surprisingly quiet the entire time, which didn’t match Neji’s previous assessment of him.

Lee was smiling pleasantly and communicating in sign language to Tsunade’s apprentice- Sakura, if Neji recalled correctly (and he knew he did.) It surprised him, but Tsunade interrupted his thoughts as she carried on with her own. “Neji-san, was it? You’re the person who wrote such a thorough framework for the counterspell before we got here.”

He blinked, surprised to be acknowledged in such a way. "It was the three of us."

"It certainly wasn't much of Tenten," Tsunade corrected. "She's not that good at spell theory to develop a counterspell. If it's not sealing or summoning then it bores her."

Neji blinked. Tenten had listened to his discussions and analysis of spell theory intently enough- although, on reflection, the keen look in her eye had been settled on him. A thrill went down his spine and he fought back a blush at the thought.

Tsunade continued, "So it was either you or Hinata-sama, and from what I recall she's much stronger as a hedgewitch than she is at dealing with the academics."

Neji nodded slightly, hiding his surprise at her knowledge. She took a sip of tea- and made a rueful face- and concluded, "So it was you. Not an easy thing to do, and you did it better than most employed counter mages."

(At the end of the table, Shikaku pulled a face like he wasn't sure if the jibe was directed at him or not.)

"Where and what did you study?" Tsunade asked Neji. He sipped his own tea to hide the set of his mouth and replied, "I learned the basics at the Hyuga, then took an apprenticeship studying magical items under a mage named Yugao. Under my Clan’s stewardship I now travel and evaluate enchanted or inherently magical items.”

Tsunade toyed with the handle of her teacup. “That doesn’t explain how you are so knowledgeable about broad spell theory.”

He gave a brief twitch of his shoulders to indicate that he might have shrugged in a different setting. “Some of it comes up in my work and I find it interesting, so I study it in my free time.”

Shikaku and Shizune both stared at him with furrowed brows, and Ino squinted at him. Sakura was giving him an evaluating look even as she and Lee continued to “chatter” at one another in sign language. (For his part, Lee looked like he was enjoying learning about Neji’s experiences.) Clearly something about what he said was puzzling to them.

Tsunade frowned and was about to speak when Hinata and Tenten re-entered the room. The first thing Neji noticed was that Tenten had her hair up into two buns with a braid swishing against the back of her neck. It made her face look heart-shaped and her eyes seem enormous and doe-like, and Neji for a wild moment contemplated counting each of her dark, thick eyelashes- 

The next thing he noticed was how Hinata’s yukata-style shirt was much looser around Tenten’s chest, parting to reveal her collarbone and the soft curves of-

He cut himself off. Tenten was interested in him, and they had some form of a relationship, but she deserved better than him staring at her in such a way.

Tenten didn’t make it too far into the room until Ino and Lee both launched themselves at her to hug her- and incredibly enough, Lee was chattering away once more with aplomb- and she laughed and threw her arms around them in return. 

In between the commotion of the three of them (and then Sakura too) hugging, Tsunade standing up and announcing their imminent departure for the night, and Shizune thanking Hinata profusely for her hospitality- Shikaku walked up to Neji and said in his rough voice, “A moment?” 

Neji followed him out into the hallway. Shikaku stared at him for a few moments, hands in his pockets, before saying abruptly, “You should study spell theory at the Academy.”

Neji blinked, startled. He’d been prepared to perhaps have a brief discussion of his experiences as an appraiser, or about Hinata’s situation as the emancipated heiress- certainly not this.

“I mean it,” Shikaku told him. “You’re wasted as an appraiser if this much knowledge and skill is just the result of a hobby. Here-” he shoved a card into Neji’s numb hands. “I realize that the Hyuga Clan may complicate the situation, but I can pull some weight to talk to Hiashi and go from there. If you decide you’re interested, let me know.” Just like that, the others had clamored out of the room, and Neji automatically took a few steps back for Tsunade and her entourage to pass. Shikaku gave him one last serious look as he allowed himself to be swept away with the crowd.

Neji stared after them all, feeling… odd.

There was suddenly a warm palm on his back, and- startled- he swiveled to look at Tenten as she slid her hand over his shoulder blade. “Everything okay?” she asked, eyes bright. He stared at her for a moment, collecting himself, then nodded shortly. “Fine. Aren’t you going with them?”

She laughed and rubbed her nose ruefully. “Lee forgot to account for me being a human again when he booked the rooms, so Hinata said I could stay here. Except she doesn’t really have the space, and to be honest I’m feeling very wicked, so I’m going back to your hotel room with you later.”

She gave him a look like she dared him to contradict her. He was too busy trying not to stagger on his feet- first Shikaku’s offer, now this. He nodded once, reeling, and she smirked. “Good.”

His brain was slowly getting back up to speed again. “Why did Lee only communicate in sign language while the others were here?”

She actually laughed. “Oh- that’s actually his little curse, but he’s had it for over five years now and it’s sort of settled in. It’s only ever when he communicates to Sakura- he had a huge crush on her when he was fourteen, and he was so annoyingly vocal about it that one time while he was gushing about her to an old witch- like the turn-you-into-a-frog cliche of a witch- she snapped at him that she’d rather he be struck dumb with love. Whenever he tried to talk to Sakura after that, even among a group, he was mute.”

Neji stared at her, shocked. “And the Academy did nothing?”

She flexed her shoulder blades in a feline-like shrug. “We weren’t in the Academy for another year after that, and Lee had already learned sign language in a bunch of different languages. Plus it actually helped Sakura and Lee become friends. You saw how they were at the meeting; they do that all the time.”

“I see.” Neji’s brow creased as he digested the information. Tenten tilted her head and watched him for a few moments before asking, “What did Shikaku talk to you about?”

He kept his head staring forward, flitting his eyes to the side to look at her out of the corners. “Nothing. Well, not yet. It may develop further.”

She stared at him with her brows raised for a few seconds, waiting for more. When it became clear that was all he had to say about the subject, she rolled her eyes. “Well, thanks for clarifying.”

“Yes. Where did Hinata go?” 

“She was putting away the tea set after she saw them out, I bet she’s downstairs…” Her voice faded as she walked down the hall away from him, and he started after her as she approached the steps.

Tenten stopped suddenly and he almost ran into her, placing his hand over the small of her back to steady himself. She propped her hands on her hips and declared, “This place looks hella different when you’re not a cat.”

He chuckled. “I don’t doubt it.” He slid his hand from her back to cover hers, knitting their fingers together over her hip. “I’m glad we were able to help you,” he told her quietly.

She leaned back against his shoulder, her free hand reaching out to grab his other one and bringing it up to rest next to their entwined hands. “I am too.”

There was a muffled thumping noise from down the steps, and they startled apart to stare down the steps at Hinata as she gawked back, beet red.

The silence stretched on, uncomfortable, before the three of them burst into speech at the same time, Hinata stammering out apologies for intruding while the pair of them stammered out apologies for the public display. Tenten eventually couldn’t take it anymore and started giggling wildly into her hands as the Hyuga cousins tried to out-apologize one another.

When they had tired themselves out, Tenten peeked out from her fingers and said, “Seriously, Hinata, sorry.”

“It’s- it’s fine,” the hedgewitch was quick to assure her. “I’m act-actually real-ly glad. I care for… for you both very mu-much. It’s… nice. Neji’s never really h-had a sig… significant other-”

Neji groaned loudly and pinched his brow, pivoting away from the stairs and taking short strides down the hall. He could hear Tenten laughing at him as Hinata continued to talk about how she thought he had a crush on a much older woman when he was fifteen (she was in her thirties), but he’d insisted he was just studying her magic techniques- 

Tenten was still snickering twenty minutes later as he marched towards the inn for the night, his grip on her hand firm even as he stubbornly ignored her occasional teasing. She cheerfully allowed him to drag her after him, her hand just as tight around his.

Fortunately for his dignity, he found that kissing Tenten was a highly effective way of shutting her up.

Applying Spell Theory and Linguistics, by Neji Hyuga.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Neji Hyuga is a professor at the Senju Academy for Magical Beings, where he has taught for the last ten years after getting his doctorate in spell theory at the very same institution. His research and experience in magical appraisal led to the development of the well-known Ten-cat countercurse methodology, a process of combining linguistics with base spell theory and applying it to countercurses. Since its culmination, the program has become widespread and has been instrumental in ending curses before their effects become harmful.

Dr. Hyuga began his career in spell theory in 2015, when he helped develop the counter curse of the infamous Cat Case of the Senju Academy. From there, he went on to study at the Senju Academy as an undergraduate before traveling abroad to Suna for three years to pursue his apprenticeship. He then returned to the Academy for his doctorate and was immediately offered the position of his retired mentor, Shikaku Nara, upon the completion of his coursework.

In his time as a professor, Dr. Hyuga has successfully expanded and integrated spell theory into many other branches of magic at the institution, including transfiguration, seals, and jinxes.

Dr. Hyuga is married to none other than the Cat Case subject herself, renowned seal master Tenten Huang-Hyuga. They live in Konoha with their two children.

[charlottedabookworm]

I just - suddenly have the mental image of a FFXV/Doctor Who Ardynson crossover that I HAVE to share with you, because wtf, it got sparked into life by your putting Doctor Who and Ardynson stuff side by side. (Suffer with me. SUFFER!)

SO. WHAT IF Somnus and Ardyn’s mom was a Time Lord - one tossed through dimensions, stranded on Eos by the Time War - pick whatever reason you choose. And Ardyn and Somnus grew up on stories of the universe beyond their simple planet - of distant worlds unlike anything they’d ever seen, of wolds where the suns were bright and the skies ran read, Worlds where ’the sky is burning, and the sea’s asleep, and the rivers dream; people made of smoke and cities made of song.‘ Ardyn and Somnus received an education worthy of a Time Lord because their mother insisted - yet, physiology-wise, they were never more then human.

Going by what some people speculate - it would takes regeneration to shift their physiology from almost-identical to human to Time Lord.

Except - it’s possible to refuse to regenerate. To die a human death; and that’s what Somnus did. And over the generations - over a hundred generations, his descendants bed and interbred with humans, until the Lucis Caelum line is - simply that, for all intents and purposes. Something lingers - the shape of the eyes, a natural talent to always know what the time is - but little more.

And maybe that’s where the Lucis Caelum tradition of having a title came from - something Ardyn and Somnus got from their mother, and they themselves continued.

Ardyn, on the other hand. Ardyn has been trapped by the Scourge in his veins and his Curse. For over two thousand years - he’s never had the chance to regenerate, and it hurts. It hurts so much; his body is all but screaming at him for death, for change - it knows it should have two hearts, that it should be different, but he can’t, he can’t. Both death and regeneration are denied to him.

And now there’s Nyx. His son, Nyx.

Nyx, who dreams of other worlds and times. Nyx, who was born, much like Ardyn, to trace the skin of eternity. Nyx, who knows the theory of regeneration, who was taught by his father as he himself was taught by his grandmother before him. Nyx, who has a Time Lord’s basic training and knowledge, who is just a little bit other. Nyx, who knows that all he has to do is reach.

Nyx and Ardyn have never regenerated, but they are Other nonetheless. And sometimes they dream; dream of what lies beyond the stars.

And if they should ever stumble across a Tardis? Well. At least they should be better pilots then the Doctor.

(Due to magic Screwing Up Everything, I just. Can’t help but picture a regenerated Nyx as being basically identical to his First Self, only with his father’s coloring - the eyes and the hair! And since Illusions Are A Thing, he can look like whatever the hell he wants.)

Please let me know you if got this? Half the time I’m afraid that submits just don’t get through to people.

(Submission by @hamelin-born)

@hamelin-born Oh. Oh shit. Why would you do this to me? Okay. Okay, damn you, I can run with this. This is going under a cut because this ended up getting stupid long very quickly.

So, let’s say that Ardyn and Somnus’ mother – the Undaunted – ran to Eos to escape the Time War (because look, if the Master can do it, so can the Undaunted. And who wouldn’t want to get the fuck out of that mess). She lands her TARDIS in Solheim, in the furthest corner of the universe that she can reach, and happens to accidentally save the life of the King – a King who cannot have children due to medical issues, who loves his people and whose line of succession ends with him – and gets to know him, becomes friends with this man who laughs freely and truly loves his people and wants the best for everyone but is still a King, and together they see an opportunity. (The King to have this new friend protect his people, and the Undaunted to escape permanently from the hell that is the time war, to hide and not be found). The Undaunted uses the chameleon arch to become human – but not entirely, because the Lucis Caelum line is just other enough, the blessings of the Astral just strong enough, to give them magic, to make them different, to class them as not-quite-human – but she doesn’t forget who she was, she becomes the Crown Princess of Solheim (the recently discovered bastard child of the King) but she remembers. And then, years later, the King passes. She takes the throne and rules the country that she has grown to love – that is full of people who she has grown to care for, people who still call her the Undaunted, who title her as a queen – and she has two children, five years apart. She has two children who have regeneration energy buzzing under their skin, who can feel the planet beneath their feet as it spins and hurtles through space, who can see threads of possibility and can tell you the time down to the millisecond without even thinking about it. Ardyn and Somnus are born with a single heart, are born with the magic of the Lucis Caelum line bound to their souls, but they are not human. They are raised together, raised with both a Prince’s education and a Time Lords – as many lessons taking place in their mothers’ TARDIS as in the palace or on the road, learning through tutors and books and experience with the TARDIS library free for them to use. They grow up on stories of the stars, of Gallifrey, of all of the planets that their mother had visited, of different skies and different peoples and of supernovas and black holes. They learn of regeneration and the untampered schism and how to pilot a TARDIS and of time itself. They grow, and they learn, and, in the end, they are as much Gallifreyan – as much time lord – as they are human, for all their single human heart. But then their mother dies – their mother dies because she can’t regenerate, because she is still hiding, and Ardyn is 25 and Somnus is 20, both adults by human reckoning but still children by Gallifrey’s count. Their mother dies, and her TARDIS disappears, and Ardyn becomes King – and they are still time lords, are still Gallifreyian, are still their mothers’ children, but without the TARDIS (without their mother and her stories, with only her journals and a few artefacts from her quarters) it is so much easier to be human. (It is easier to be human, to pretend that they do not long for something that they could never have. It is easier to be human, because what is the point of being a time lord? What will it give them? They could regenerate, but they cannot leave this planet. They are time lords, but their mother is dead and the time lords are dying in a war that hasn’t started but is currently ongoing but had ended millennia ago. It is easier to be human, because all they have is each other in a world surrounded by humans) The Undaunted dies. Ardyn becomes King, Somnus as his heir and best diplomat, and all they have left of their heritage is themselves and what their mother had written down for them. Ardyn takes the title of the Sage – a title as much granted to him by the land as it was chosen by himself – and Somnus becomes the Mystic, and this is the part of their heritage that they grip the tightest too (something from their mother that they could shout out to the world, that they could wrap around themselves like a shield. Ardyn is as much his name as the Sage is, and – beneath both of those – there is a name that is known only to himself, one that his mother granted him at birth and that has never been spoken aloud). Somnus, who is five years younger than his brother – whose memories of their mother are a little more faded, who has had fewer lessons on being a time lord, who was not a scholar and spent less time in the library, who knows less of his heritage despite Ardyn’s best efforts – clings far tighter to his human half than his brother does. There are things that he doesn’t quite understand, abilities that he pushes aside in favour of being normal, and he tries to ignore the longing for the stars that he sees in Ardyn. Because Ardyn can’t stay in one place, can’t stand still – can’t live his life in a single country. Ardyn is a Healer and a traveller, he wanders from place to place – healing his people and learning the land and always looking upwards, reaching for a universe that he cannot travel – rarely returning home unless necessary, and there is a part of Somnus that hates his brother for it. There is still a prophecy and an Astral and a brother betraying another for a throne – because their heritage, their otherness, changes nothing in that case. Ardyn still takes the scourge into himself, he is still captured by Somnus, is still set to the cross – the difference is, in this world, that Bahamut steps in before Ardyn can regenerate, before he can give in to the energy under his skin and change. Bahamut steps in and binds Ardyn’s soul to his body – ‘grants’ him immortality, as though it was a gift instead of the curse that it was – and then Ardyn can’t regenerate. He spends the next two millennia caught on the cusp – regeneration energy humming just out of reach under his skin, unable to take that final step and be free of the pain. And Somnus? Somnus embraces his human side, prefers to forget the heritage that he had shared with his brother. Somnus gets married and his children, founds the Lucis Caelum line and Lucis alongside it, rules over his country – and, when he is old and tired, he lets go. Somnus Lucis Caelum dies – old for a human, but still just a babe in Gallifreyan terms. He chooses not to regenerate, chooses to be human, and, in the end, time forgets that he was anything but. Years pass. Ardyn slips further and further into insanity – driven to distraction by a song that only he can hear, by the constant feeling that he should have two hearts instead of one, by a longing for the stars and the universe, by the empty space in his mind where his brother and mother once where, by the thousands of screaming voices in his mind that block out near everything else – and the Lucis Caelum line dilutes their blood more and more, marrying human after human after human, until finally children are born without life under their skin: children who cannot feel the world turn, who cannot hear the minds of their family, who do not know time in a way that they once did, who do not look up at the stars and think home. The line of Lucis becomes just another human family with just a little extra, like they once were, before a young Gallifreyan ran from the Time War and got herself adopted - with an innate sense of time and an odd tinkle in their eyes and a habit of choosing titles for themselves, but nothing more. And then, Nyx is born. Nyx, who has three names – one given to him by his mother, a second, secret, name given to him by his father, and a third, once that was chosen both by himself and the Land beneath his feet. Nyx, who is born with golden fire dancing under his skin, whose mind reaches out for his fathers’ mere moments after he first opens his eyes. Nyx, who feels time and possibility, who can trace the passage of eternity and step outside of the known with just a thought. Nyx, who looks up at the stars with wonder and awe and longing. Nyx, who – like his father before him – dreams of what lies beyond the night sky, dreams of travelling the universe and uncovering its secrets. Nyx who is other. Ardyn teaches his son everything that he remembers – dragging himself back from insanity inch by inch so that he can teach his son, using the mental bond between them to block out everything else. It is Ardyn who teaches his son of Gallifrey and Time Lords, of the Time War and the Undaunted. Who teaches his son what he remembers of Gallifreyan, teaches him what he can of how to fly a TARDIS without one on hand to help learn. He teaches his son and he heals himself in the process. Nyx, who has a single heart and is only quarter-blooded, but who embraces his heritage wholeheartedly. Again, nothing much changes despite this, Nyx is still Nyx, for all that he is not human. He is still Ramuh’s Chosen, is still Galahd’s protector, and he still puts his people before himself. Galahd still falls to Niflheim. Nyx still goes to Lucis, still joins the Glaive, is still loyal to Regis – just, in this world he recognises the hint of other in the Lucis Caelum, that small thread of not-human that is all that is left of the blood in his uncles line, and there is a small part of him that pities them (pities what they will never know, will never feel. Pities them for everything that they do not even know is missing, for everything that they have lost). There is still a war, his father is still Niflheim’s Chancellor, there is still a treaty signing, everything still goes wrong, Regis still dies. But, this time, when Nyx puts on the ring of the Lucii – when he summons the old wall to defeat the daemons, when he uses everything to kill Glauca, when he is told the price will be his life by his uncle because he is not worthy, because he will not sacrifice another, when the ring tries to kill him – he doesn’t die. In his final moments, before he shatters into ashes, he thinks of those he loves. He thinks of Selena and Crowe and Libertus, who are all his family – who accept him, all of him, and would be devastated by his death. He thinks of his father, who is just as other as he is – he thinks of the only one in the world that truly understands him, who he can feel reaching along their bond with heart-stopping worry, who was alone for so long before Nyx was born, who clings to Nyx sometimes, like he is his only hope in the universe. He thinks, I cannot leave them alone, and he reaches for the energy under his skin and lets it consume him. Nyx regenerates. Golden energy blasts out of him, burning away his human blood – and it hurts but it doesn’t, it burns but it is a gentle warmth, it is old and young and renewing – dyeing his hair the purple of his father, leaving his eyes as gold as the energy in his veins, and he has two hearts now but he does not change. (Nyx’s magic is bound to his soul, is bound to his identity, and it has wrapped itself around the regeneration energy in his cells. Nyx will never change his appearance unless he chooses to). He regenerates and, for the first time in his life, he feels whole – he feels right. This is who he was, who he was always meant to be, and he hadn’t even realised that he had felt so uncomfortable in his own skin until the feeling was gone. Nyx wakes in a crater in the ruins of Insomnia, with his father’s hair and eyes, with two hearts and an expanded awareness, but he is still Nyx. Of course, everyone thinks that he’s dead – and Nyx doesn’t exactly do anything to change that, not when he looks so much like his father (like Niflheim’s Chancellor) now. He tells Lib and Crowe and Selena, goes to see his father (and ignores the hint of envy in the man’s eyes as he congratulates him, because he knows what his father has been through, has felt that point just before regeneration and couldn’t imagine spending two millennia stuck on that brink) and then he travels. He travels across Eos, to the furthest corners and the well-known cities, and the daemons don’t bother him because he is still the son of the Accursed – any hint of the scourge may have been burned out of his blood, but his magic had existed alongside it for his entire life and that leaves a mark. He travels, and he learns, and he saves people, and he feels free, but at nights he stares up at the stars and he wishes. And then, one day, he finds a TARDIS. He’s in the ruins of Solheim, following a call that is half gut instinct and half knowing, and he doesn’t even realise what he has found until he steps inside and recognises it. Until he steps inside, and the memories of his fathers’ stories come flooding back, the memories of his father talking fondly of the lessons that his own mother had taught him in this very TARDIS. “Oh,” He says, as the TARDIS unfurls in his mind – familiar and welcoming, and this should be strange, but nothing had ever felt more right. “Aren’t you beautiful?” The TARDIS preens, consoles humming at the compliment, and Nyx laughs, leaning back against the doors. And this is amazing, this is everything that he could have ever hoped for, but there was still one thing missing – one thing that kept this from being perfect. “Dad is going to be so happy to see you. He missed you so much after Nanas’ death.” There was a hint of apologetic grief from the bond, shame for having left the children of her bonded, but Nyx understood grief – understood the need to get away from everything that reminded you of them. (Hadn’t he done the same, after his mothers’ death, after the fall?). Reaching out, he strokes a hand against the walls – comforting and absolving at the same time. “He doesn’t blame you, girl.” Lights dim and then pick up again, a thread of gratitude in the humming of the console, and Nyx smiled again. “Now, come on, let’s go and surprise the old man.” The console buzzed with mischief, and Nyx laughed again. They were going to get on brilliantly. Ardyn’s face when he sees the TARDIS is a picture – one that Nyx instantly takes, because it is rare that he can shock his father so thoroughly, and he is going to hold this against the man for the rest of time – but the look on his face as he reaches out slowly, both with his mind and his hand, the disbelief and desperate hope, as though he doesn’t believe that it is real, is almost enough to make him cry. He does cry, when Ardyn touches the doors with so much grief and awe and love and pain, and his father cries with him – but it’s a healing sort of crying, the kind that leaves you drained and tired but feeling better. It’s Ardyn and Nyx and the TARDIS – all of the remnants of Gallifrey that exist in this little corner of the universe together for the first time, happy and laughing and crying and just existing together – and it’s amazing. But, despite this, there is still a prophecy – is still Noct and the Astrals and the Scourge and Bamahut’s curse – and Ardyn still has a part to play. Things play out pretty similarly – Noct fights Ardyn, who puts up a pretense and makes it a good fight but just wants this to be over (one way or the other, he has hope, has Nyx and the TARDIS glowing in his mind and shielding him from the screams of the daemons, but he is still so tired and regeneration or not he wants this to end), Noct wins, as he always would have, no matter the world, because Ardyn had always planned this to end in his death, but Nyx is there this time. Nyx is there, and he shoves Noct out of the way as the curse ends – destroyed by the Chosen King’s actions, by the poor child that was going to have to die for Bahamut’s schemes – and he clutches his fathers’ hand and asks the man to regenerate. Asks for just one more life together. Ardyn has never been able to deny his son anything, and he gives in. He regenerates, finally, golden fire bursting out of his skin violently – so much more so than Nyx’s regeneration was, because this has been building for millennia and now that Ardyn had given in nothing could stop this – burning the scourge out of his soul. It hurts – but it is a good sort of hurt, because this is finally happening, this is what Ardyn has been edging towards for over two thousand years. He regenerates, and for the first time in his life he has two hearts – can hear the dual beat of his blood pounding in his ears – and the TARDIS is singing in his mind and he feels right. Everything is so clear and so quiet and his magic feels lighter without the scourges taint and Ardyn is more himself than he has been in centuries. Ardyn lives and Nyx lives – and maybe Noct lives as well: maybe they find some way to save the kid, but maybe they don’t, maybe they try and fail, maybe they don’t even try but I’d like to think that they would – but they are alive and the TARDIS is singing with joy because now she has two time lords, one who is so young but the other is 2000 years old, both of whom are related to her first bonded, both of whom will not leave her. They’re alive and they’re time lords and they have a TARDIS and they’re free of the Time War. (The War is over, echoes across the universe, Gallifrey has fallen. The Daleks have fallen. The Last Great Time War has ended. And, maybe they should care more than they do. Maybe they should be sad at the loss of their home. But it is a home that they never knew, full of a people that they had never met, one that they had only heard of through stories and all they need is each other. There is no war and they are safe and Ardyn just wishes that his mother had lived to see it) For a little while, they stick around – helping Galahd with their rebuilding and making sure that they’re okay – but eventually Lib gets pissed off at their hanging around and fussing and tells them to go. (Look, Lib and Crowe and Selena – and possibly Cor, depending on whether or not Noct lived - totally end up being on-again off-again companions, you can’t convince me otherwise). So, they take the TARDIS and go. They come home every so often, but – most of the time – they travel. Bouncing from world to world to world, helping people and having fun and learning new things and experiencing the universe (they may or may not use the TARDIS to go back in time and prank the shit out of Somnus. They can’t change anything, they know that, but they can make the man’s life hell). And yeah, they are way better drivers than the Doctor because why not? For one, there’s two of them, and they’re happy to learn what the TARDIS teaches them. Until, one day, they land on Earth. They land on Earth and Ardyn has some fun in Cardiff with a certain captain, they travel between countries and bounce back and forwards in time and have fun but they keep being drawn back to the UK by something, and honestly the repeated alien invasions are quite fun to watch so they don’t really care. At some point, Nyx probably makes friends with Donna (and when he figures out what’s wrong with her memories, because there is something off with her timestream and he can almost feel the Time Lord consciousness hidden behind the bloc, he takes her to his dad and the TARDIS and between them they manage to fix it so that Donna at least gets her memories back. And then Donna gets to travel with her new friends while telling them all about the Doctor, because look. Donna deserved better), and, after a while, he ends up in university because he has a goal to beat the number of degrees that his dad has – because he has a lot of time, and it is going to take a very long while to meet that target, especially since Ardyn keeps picking up more (Ardyn finds this hilarious, his son is adorable when pouting) – and somehow he ends up in Bristol Uni, doing some sort of undergrad degree in a subject I haven’t decided on yet. One day, gold eyes hidden behind a spell his father had taught him, he walks into a lecture and then he meets the wide eyes of the old man lecturing in the front in shock, even as his mind automatically reaches out to the other Gallifreyan in the room. One day, the Knight meets the Doctor, and things spiral outwards from there.

[finity-andbeyond]

kissimmee | 2002

If you cannot get rid of the family skeleton, you may as well make it dance.

                                                                               -george bernard shaw

Daytona Beach, Florida

Summer 2002.

It had been a long damn day. And it was only ten.

It had been a day longer than Fin had even realised in his seven year old mind days could be. A day that started off in their motel room (room 115b - a family room with a double and two singles), just like the rest of them. He’d been brushing his teeth when the fighting started. Brushing his teeth and shaking his butt to the music that was playing through the beat up Sony radio that his mother played on every Saturday morning, and that was just to wake them up so they knew it was time for chores.

It had all been going so well, until their dad had told Indie that he couldn’t go and see his friend Carmen. Fin was by no means a genius, but he liked to think he could understand easy things. The wheels on the bus went round and round, sometimes mommies and dads didn’t have the same last name, and sometimes people (like them) were poor. He understood the harder stuff too, like why his dad’s parents didn’t want to meet him and his brother. He understood why sometimes he and Indie had to be happy with a pack of chips for their meal—a packet of chips and perhaps an orange picked from one of the trees that seemed to pop up in abundance in the glaring Florida sun. Fat, rolling juicy oranges that Indie would have to try and either cut with a butter knife or smash open on a rock. It was hardly an exact science, but it got the job done, and it meant that Fin ended up with orange juice dripping down his chin, but he’d always have a grin on his face.

He understood that sometimes (as his big brother put it) “You do what you have to do.” And sometimes that meant you had to take things without paying for them. Like bread or milk or cereal or peanut butter. He had been taught by Mami that stealing was wrong, and that he should never do it, but Indie had told him he could either take it or go hungry. It was hardly a choice.

Some things though, Fin just did not understand. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t go to Disneyworld but his friends could. He didn’t understand why people in school made fun of his name. He didn’t understand why his dad never seemed to want to be around his children, and if he was honest, he didn’t really understand why once a month Indiana had to go round to Carmen’s house.

Fighting between Jaxon and Indie was hardly news. The two could barely be in the same room without something going awfully wrong. Sometimes it was something as little as the way Indie looked at their dad that would start it off. Fin didn’t understand why.. but sometimes it almost seemed like Indie wanted to have a fight. Sometimes it was like he was picking away at a scab until it made Jaxon bleed out all these horrible words. Words that again, Fin wasn’t sure about. “Deadbeat”, “drug addict” and “visitation” were words that were thrown around a lot, but no matter how hard he asked after a fight had happened, his brother would never explain what they meant. The fights hadn’t ever really scared him. He’d grown up hearing them after all..but what was hard was when they happened during the rainy seasons. After a fight and when the smoke had cleared, Indie and their dad were forced to stay stuck in their tiny home and cool down on opposite sides of the room.

That was another thing. Fin didn’t understand why Taylor Russell had stairs inside his house. The stairs at the motel were metal and his mom had taught him to always go down them slowly, but never touch the railing because there were dirty germs on them. Fin didn’t understand why Indie didn’t call their mom “mom”. Fin called her “mami” or “mommy” but that was because he was little. That he got. Indie called her Bonita and not even their dad called her that. He’d asked her one day why their brother called her Bonita, and she’d just smiled and said “that’s my name, querido. You’re Infinity. I’m Bonita. But you call me Mami.” It was simple. Mommies had their own names, but dad’s and other people called them by their other fake name. Everyone followed that rule but Indie.

Usually the fights didn’t last too long—a crash of thunder in the dead of night that was followed by cooling rain..but today was different. Indiana had his fists clenched at his sides as he yelled back at their dad, saying words Fin didn’t want to hear, and so he didn’t. He covered his ears with his hands and closed his eyes, trying to detach himself. His mother had gotten up early to collect her food stamps and was headed down to the bodega so she could buy things to make a decent dinner after work. He focused. Hungry. Mami. Quiet. Repeat. He was getting good at this game.

As quickly as the fight erupted after Bonita had left, the time between it being over and Fin being yanked to his feet was pretty instantaneous. He opened his eyes to see his brother tugging him outside into the sun, and he scrunched his eyes indignantly, and he protested out loud as the door closed behind them and he was tugged along toward the stairs “Indie, the sun’s hurting my eyes-” Indie was still in fight mode. He snapped back “Tough fucking shit, Infinity.” Fin didn’t even have enough time to be upset that he’d been snapped at, as his brother sighed and at the bottom of the stairs, stepped in front of him “Get on my back. You can hide your eyes on my shoulder.” A piggy back? Those were always fun. Fin grinned and jumped on, not worried for a moment as Indie wobbled as he tried to regain his balance, because he always got it back and this was no exception.

They’d wandered a couple hundred feet out of the Broken Hill motel when they came to the main road. Cars zoomed past, and without warning, Indie stopped (but of course kept Fin safe and sound on his back). Fin frowned momentarily. Had his brother realised he hadn’t showered yet? That he had toothpaste and half a spoonful of milk from yesterday down his shirt? Did he smell? But as usual, Fin’s big brother was just doing a think. Thoughtfully, he asked his ward “Where do you wanna go today?” He was over the moon! They’d played this game before, and Fin knew the right answer. He chirped “Disneyworld, Indie!” Normally that was the cue for them both to laugh or start playing something else, but today his big brother seemed to consider it. He slid Fin down off his back and dug in the pocket of his jeans, pulled out some crumpled ones and some coins. He lifted his eyes to look at his brother “you got any money?” Fin ummed and dug in his own pockets, handing over without question the few coins he had, watching as his brother counted under his breath “Eight dollars and sixty three cents.”

Wow. We’re rich!

Okay. Maybe they weren’t rich...but it seemed that Indie was still deep in thought. He looked around them thoughtfully before he nudged his brother “C’mon.” he led Fin across the street and over a few blocks, by the end of which the seven year olds feet ached. It was only once they reached the Jamba Juice near the bus station. What on earth were they doing there? Indiana had explained to his brother more than once that they couldn’t afford the things that were made in this chain stores. The line for juice was coming out the door, and without a moment’s hesitation, Indie approached it, slipping his hand into Fin’s and standing beside a woman with a stroller and five other kids of her own. It didn’t take more than a millisecond for his hand to slip into the purse of this mother as she attended to two of her children who were fighting over a toy. It didn’t take more than a millisecond for Fin to be pulled away, but it did take a beat for him to realise what had just happened, and react with natural incredulity.

“Indie, you stole.”  His brother didn’t answer.

“....Indiana.” Fin persisted. Now that they were far away from the juice bar and closer to the ticket office, the elder boy hissed “Yeah, I stole it. But remember what I said? What have I always told you?” That stumped his brother a moment. Indie taught him a lot of cool stuff. He was his best friend, his hero and his teacher. Swallowing to try and dislodge the lump in his throat, Fin chorused the mantra he had been taught so early on in his life “You do what you have to do.” His brother nodded as he counted through the notes; notes crisper and newer than Fin had ever seen. He’d never seen a fifty dollar note before, and it was almost like seeing a unicorn. Indie looked around him, and having taken out all the notes, change and credit cards, he went over to a storm drain and dropped the wallet into it, stepping back over to his brother a moment later after he had pocketed the cards “Let’s get you to Disneyland, kid.” Wait, what?

If Fin could’ve flown, he would’ve been soaring above the treetops. He wanted to dance around the bus they were on. Indie had told him not to though, so he settled for relaxing against his brothers side and moving his feet to an imaginary beat. Indie hadn’t said anything since they’d gotten on. He’d asked the bus driver how close to Disneyworld he could get. The driver, a stout, aging black man shook his head “Y’all missed the bus for Disney already. Sorry. The closest I can get you is Kissimmee.” Fin mouthed the name while his brother handed over the fare. Kissimmee. Ki-ssi-mee. It sounded like a made up word, like despicable or ajax. Nudging Indie, who turned an eye to him, Fin tilted his head “Is Disneyworld in Kissimmee?” Indie cast a sympathetic look to his brother “Fin, there’s nothing in Kissimmee. We’re gonna have to walk a long time. I used most of the money on bus fare, and we’ve still gotta get back to ‘Tona. And eat something.” It was as though he’d only just considered that, as he bit his lip and looked away. His younger brother sighed “I wish Mami was here.” he mused, feeling his brother stiffen at his side. Maybe he missed her too.

It took almost three and a half hours to get to Kissimmee. Indie had said they were lucky-that if they’d been from Miami, or Tampa or the Keys that it would’ve taken a plane to get there. The brothers didn’t have passports, and Fin had never so much as been to an airport. It made his mother sad that he didn’t though. He knew that she wished she could go on the plane and fly to the place she came from to see her mami and papi. Fin had never even met them. He’d spoken to them on the phone when he’d been given it, but they never seemed to want to say very much to him. By the time they got there it was the middle of the afternoon, and Indie had insisted they finally have some breakfast. It took a while but they finally tracked down a Burger King, Fin having a happy meal with nuggets and Indie devouring a burger.

Then they started walking.

It was about thirty-five minutes before Fin started getting really tired. He started to slow down, footsteps becoming heavier and his body lolling after his brother. Indie noticed after a few minutes. He stopped and kept his back to his brother, but he didn’t have to say anything--Fin got it. He hopped back up onto his back and wrapped his arms around his neck. They walked for what must’ve been forever. Indie had figured if they followed the main road that they’d eventually come across a sign for Disneyworld, and his logic was right. Fin wasn’t the best at reading. He’d been set it as homework every day by his teacher, but his parents rarely had the time to check he was doing it or helping him. His dad worked weird hours and his mom had taken two jobs just to make sure they had a safety net.

He saw the turrets of a purple castle in the distance, and he pointed it out, shrieking louder than he should’ve so that his brother could hear him over the roar of traffic beside them on the road “Look Indie! Disneyworld!” he felt so excited he thought he might explode. Indiana had started to get tired somewhere into the first hour. He’d soldiered on though, not stopping once, and fiercely cursing at the people who had pulled over and offered them a ride. He had however stopped a few times to ask a bus driver or a cashier in a gas station for directions. Infinity could almost feel his relief that he would soon get to rest. To Fin’s dismay however, when they turned the corner...it was just another motel. A motel just like the one they’d come from, except it was bright purple. Outside the black sign read ‘Magic Castle Inn and Suites’. The turret he’d seen was decorated like a castle, but judging by the smell radiating from the place and the people who hung off it’s balconies, it didn’t seem like the Magic Kingdom he’d been expecting. Indie let him slide to the floor, and he stared at the motel in disbelief. Fin watched him with a worried frown. It was as though he could hear the cogs in his big brother’s brain turning. The thoughts of the almost six hours it had taken them to get this far. And it was all because of that fight in a motel.

A motel just like this one.

Indie clenched his fists. He grabbed his brother and dragged him to reception. Fin started to protest. The grown ups who worked there would be mad...but Indie was madder. The door opened and a bell chimed, and while Fin craned his neck to try and see where the bell was, his brother released him and charged to the desk. Indiana was still not tall enough to see over the top of the desk, and had to stand on his tiptoes, but while his baby brother sat in a chair and picked at a loose thread from his Crash shirt, Indie once again fought their battle. He spoke in a low voice to the bemused man behind the desk, a skinny man with ice cold blue eyes.

His brother returned to him, Fin finally looking up, blinking at him slowly. In his hand Indie held a piece of paper with some lines on it, and he jerked his head toward the door “Let’s go, Fin. Say thank you to the man.” If there was one thing that Bonita has made sure the boys never left the house without, it was their manners. Fin hopped up and waved to the skinny ice man, chirping “thank you, mister.” To which he received a nod..and a weird look. It almost seemed like the Ice Man felt sorry for them. Maybe he did. Maybe he knew how long they’d been on the bus. It didn’t occur to him that it could’ve been their dirty, a few sizes too small clothes.

Indie was pulling him down the street—in the direction opposite to the one they’d come. Then he made a sharp turn, and all of a sudden, the grey pavement below them turned to grass. Confused, the younger Waters piped up “Where we goin’ Indie?” His brother didn’t answer at first, but Fin could see another motel in the future. No.. this wasn’t a motel, it was a.. he frowned, trying to remember the word. It was the word they used when they talked about the people with lots of money. It was a.. it was a resort! A large, sprawling resort with carefully curated flower beds and a fountain outside its entrance. Were they rich now? Was this where the Ice Man lived? Was he coming to Disneyworld too?

To his surprise, Indie looped them round to the back. The sun was beginning to set now and the sound of crickets and the smell of lake water was starting to becoming more unavoidable. At the back of the resort was a lake, surrounded by water reeds, cattails and signs that had pictures of fish on them. When his brother stopped suddenly by the lake and released Fin, the younger boy blinked in confusion. Were they going swimming? Indiana was peering around now, brow furrowed and frowning as he seemed to search the sky for something. When he finally saw it he grabbed Fin and lifted him as high as he could, which couldn’t have been more than a couple of feet, but it made him laugh nonetheless.

“Look. D’you see it? Cinderella’s castle.” Fin felt his heart start to thump. Were they in.. he caught sight of the familiar turrets from the commercials and gasped, pointing at it with an excited cry “Indie! Indie look! We’re in Disneyworld! We did it, we did it!” He jumped down and threw his arms around his brother, overcome with emotion—especially excitement. He giggled softly and closed his eyes as he felt Indiana’s hand finally touch his back, whispering “Thank you, Indie. This is the best day ever.” He didn’t look up, but he didn’t have to. Nothing could’ve topped this moment.

“Wait here.” His big brother murmured, gently nudging him off “If anybody comes out, you hide and wait for me to come back, okay? Just like we practised at Dollartree.” Fin nodded his understanding, complete and utter faith in his brother, his hero overcoming any natural fear he might’ve had. Indie disappeared and for a moment, all Fin could do was sit on the mildewy grass and stare up at the stars as one by one they appeared. He stared as lights flashed from around the castle, as thought something was about to begin.

Indie came back after around fifteen minutes, his arms laden with snacks. Fin thought it best not to ask where he’d gotten them. After today and this trip? He was sure he’d never ask again. It was funny, he could never ever imagine being mad at his big brother again. With a tired groan Indiana collapsed down beside him, shoving the pack Doritos and four pack of sodas between them, ripping the Doritos open and shoving one into his mouth. Fin was confused “Why’re we just sitting here? Can’t we go on the rides?” Indie swallowed slowly as though in thought “...Nah. We’ve gotta stay here. We’ve got the best seats in the house though, trust me.” And Fin did. Completely.

It took about a half hour before he started to shift, beginning to get bored with just sitting. Indie was content or so it seemed, happy to eat his junk food and take a break from all the walking he’d done. Fin however was only seven and wanted constant entertainment. He hopped up “I wanna do something.” He stated purposefully. Indie lifted his head lazily, and replied curtly “Hop on one leg.” He did. “Okay, now..run over and touch that light pole.” He gestured to a light close to the hotel, which was now shrouded in darkness apart from that one source of light. Fin raced over as fast as his legs would carry him and ran back, out of breath “I..” he puffed “did..it..Indie.” His brother nodded, reaching out to hold him by the wrist and pulling him back to sit down, murmuring reassuringly “Won’t be long now. I promise. Do you want a gummy bear?” Well, since they were on offer.

Fin was about thirteen gummy bears in when he lifted his head at the same time as his brother, both of them having heard the faint music starting to play. A search light illuminated the turret of Cinderella’s castle, and Fin could faintly see something fluttering around it, and he grasped Indie’s arm, clinging to it “Look Indie! It’s Tinkerbelle!” His brother chuckled “Yeah, yeah I see her. You ready?” Out of his pocket he pulled a black, sleek packet. The tubes he pulled out were dulled colours, yellow, pink, green. Indie read the back with a frown before snapping one. Immediately color, bright and beautiful like the ones illuminated in the pixies that were being projected onto the castle lit the air. Indie did the same for each of them before holding them out “Which one d’you want?” Fin picked the green and yellow one, and Indie held onto the orange and pink ones. He was busy trying to loop them around his wrists when he felt a tap on his shoulder and looked to his left, to his hero beside him. Indie grinned and pointed to the castle, and as Fin looked up, the sky exploded in color.

Staring in awe, he was mesmerised as firework after firework exploded in front of him, seeming to fold and turn into the next one. His head snapped round to his big brother, who was watching him with a strange smile “Indie, is it magic?” He seemed to hesitate, before his smile grew and he nodded “Yeah, Fin. Yeah, it is.” Gasping with amazement and wonder, Fin rose to his feet and stepped toward the fireworks, or rather the trees and thick brush that separated him from stepping forward..from going inside the castle. He felt a hand on his shoulder and before he could turn, Indie stopped him from going any further by wrapping his arm around his brother’s shoulders, holding him in place “We’ve got our own colors. Hey, maybe if you wave your yellow one a yellow firework’ll go off.” Curious, he tried it. His eyes scanned the sky and as if by magic, a yellow firework exploded, and he gasped in amazement. Magic, he thought.

Indie really was magic.

[exodirtymind]

The Return

Pairing: Jongdae x Reader

Genre: mafia!au, action, romance, mature

Summary: You wouldn’t have thought that after five years, out of nowhere in a stormy night, he would knock at your door, begging you to let him in. Yet, he didn’t know about the little boy with curled hair who calls you ‘mom’.

Prologue, Chapter 1

     Every day you wake up and you tell yourself this: It’s just one day, one twenty-four-hour period to get yourself through.

     You don’t know when exactly you started giving yourself this daily pep talk- or why. But this morning, glancing at the sleeping man on your couch makes you realize some kind of things. Terrible things. For almost five years you have been trying to forget the past but being faced with it now makes you feel vulnerable. It’s odd how you try to find something different about him but there’s nothing. He looks the same and that’s almost overwhelming.

     The storm seems gone. Once you open the kitchen’s window a cold breeze hits your face. Your hands are shaking as you pull the glasses on the table. Making coffee for two persons has became something strange. You are solitary, that’s how you get used, that’s how life shows you it’s better this way, without any other complications. But for Lucas, you would have been gone for a long time.

‘It smells good.’ You hear a voice, a hoarse one.

‘Just coffee.’ You murmur in a sigh, looking into his direction. His body is laying by the doorway, maybe too scared to take a sit at the table. Maybe, everything feels different.  Even with a common past, the both of you are different persons now. At least, that’s how you want to think it is. ‘You have some explanations to give.’

‘I know.’ He runs a hand through his messy hair, finally stepping closer and taking a seat. ‘I told you I need a place to stay and that’s true.’

‘Why here?’ You ask, turning the coffee. He looks down as if he wants to find something. To find words. Courage maybe.

‘Minseok is with them. His house is searched and they are also looking for me. Staying at a hotel or even at a motel woudn’t have been a good choice, as long as they examine every one of them.’

‘You think I’m going to keep you here while the police are looking forward you outside?’

‘I-‘ he stars but then holds back a little. ‘You were my last chance. Actually the only.’

‘What a pity.’ You say, taking a sip from your coffee. ‘If I did that, my life would be in danger as well. And I can’t risk my peace for saving your miserable life.’

‘Sometime-‘

‘Yes, Jongdae. Sometime, when-‘ Your mouth stops and so does your mind. It’s like in one millisecond that time when you and Jongdae were in a relationship just passed in front of your eyes like a film. ‘When we were a thing.’

‘I know and I didn’t come for us being a thing again.’ He claims and your heart skips a little. Why would you feel like this? ‘I need a place to stay till I find out how to solve this problem.’

‘For how long?’

‘Two months maybe.’ Without holding back even a bit, a little laughter escapes from your throat.

‘What’s funny?’

‘The situation itself.’ You shrug. ‘I mean, yeah, it’s normal that after five years to be awakened by a knock at the door in the middle of the night. And that person is, actually and ironically, my ex-boyfriend who is begging me to provide him a shelter for two months.’ You smile. ‘Why are you asking?’

He snorts, letting a smirk to appear in the corner of his lips.

‘Why are you smiling?’

‘As sarcastic as ever.’ He claims and you clench your jaw.

‘Two months. After that, I want you gone. And by gone I mean... forever.’

‘I promise.’

     You gulp, looking him straight in the eyes. Jongdae, surprisingly, seems as tensed as you, his muscles strained and glance lost. The thought of having him so close after this whole time is ravishing. Your living has been at peace since now, no crazy neighbors, no car accidents, no unpaid bills. But all of these can mean nothing compare with Jongdae’s return. You know it is going to confuse you, stir you, upset you and yet you let him under your roof. 

‘Excuse me now but-‘ You start when the kitchen’s door opens and a little dark-haired boy appears behind it. Once he notices the new and unknown presence, he tries to hide his body behind the door.

‘It’s ok, sweetheart, come.’

     You can’t read Jongdae’s face when the little human find his peace into your arms. He is speechless, and a little bit shocked as his eyes never leave your son’s figure. The more he stares, the more uncomfortable you feel. The silence between you also doesn’t help but judging by his act of clearing his throat you know he has something to say. Maybe more than something.

‘You have a child.’ Is all that he says, rubbing the back of his neck. It sounds more like a question than an affirmation.

‘As you can see.’

‘He’s beautiful .’ He speaks under his breath, offering his hand to your son. ‘I’m Jongdae. Nice to meet you.’

     Your heart flutters and you damn yourself.

‘I’m Lucas and it’s nice to meet you tho, sir.’ The boy speaks and pulls out from your embrace, looking for the latest bar of chocolate in the fridge. Normally, you would try to admonish him for eating chocolate in the morning but today you’re gonna leave it. When he’s out of kitchen, your gaze meets Jongdae’s.

‘I have to take him to my mother and then go to work.’ You sigh, putting your glass into the sink.

‘Are you working in the same place?’ Comes his question and you shakes your head.

‘No, I changed a lot of jobs in the last five years. ‘ He nods, without saying a word and you wish he had done it. Not knowing why exactly, maybe because you hate to initiate things, talks, conversations. Maybe because you feel like he wants to say a lot of things but holds back. Or maybe because you want to say a lot of things but hold back.

‘About Lucas-‘ He speaks and your legs stars to tremble. It’s like the floor is spinning and the vortex is calling, so before opening the water tap, you take some calming breaths. This is the moment when you’re praying to God for sending some help. Anything. Anyone. 

‘Mommy!’ All of the sudden, your son enters the kitchen and your teeth ket go of your inferior lip. and ‘Can I stay home today?’ You take a look at him, his chin being covered with melt chocolate. His whining face is funnier now and you can’t hold back the little laughter that escapes your mouth.

‘You know what I think about you staying alone-‘

‘But I don’t want to go at grandma.’ He pouts and you roll your eyes. ‘Please? He’ll stay here too, right?’

‘I already said-‘

‘He’s right.’ Jongdae cuts you off. ‘I know you don’t trust me. I can’t blame you for that. But at least, I can be a helping hand. If he wants to stay, then I can look after him.’

     You don’t answer. For a few seconds there’s no sound and all of you sit in an awkward silence until you sigh, releasing the tension from your body. You are a mother, you have to think twice before letting your son in someone’s care. But your heart tells you different. That’s why you don’t want to accept it. Because if it were for someone to look after your son, you know that no one could do better than Jongdae.

‘Fine.’ The word flies between your lips and you wish you could take it back. But ultimately, how wrong things could go?

[alisonscotlock]

Then There Was You

two fics in two weeks??  that happened.  this one came about bc i wanted to try out my old fountain pen and i was listening to ‘songs from another room’.  ao3 is still not being my friend so i’m posting here again.  you can decide for yourself how much of canon applies and where in serena’s timeline it occurs.  *frank sinatra’s strangers in the night starts playing*...

Serena edges away from Sian’s fourth attempt at setting her up in under an hour and heads over to where her friend is flirting with someone young enough to be her grandson.  She catches Sian’s eye and the youth is dismissed as she draws close.

“What was wrong with that one?”

The desperation in her voice makes Serena chuckle.

“Tory,” is Serena’s simple explanation.

“Fussy,” Sian mumbles into her prosecco, before scanning the room, presumably for Average Male Number Five.

“I know your whole life seems dedicated to finding me a man,” Serena starts.  Sian winks at a passing Adonis, turning to get a look at his backside.

“Not my whole life, darling,” she murmurs.  Serena ignores her.

“But am I allowed just one evening out when I can just relax and not flirt with every testosterone-fuelled hunk that walks past?”

Sian’s eyebrows hit the ceiling.

“Oh, but you deserve some fun,” she squeals, then she turns sombre, her eyes softening.  “Especially after the year you’ve had.”

Serena feels the tightness in her chest for a moment.  It’s no less forceful nowadays, but it’s no longer a shock.

”Maybe I need a little more time,” Serena says.

Sian reaches out and strokes her arm.  She’s kept Serena going, really - leaving Serena both pleasantly surprised and extremely grateful.

Serena sighs and glances towards the back exit, turns to Sian to find her brow furrowed.

“I’m just...  I’m going to get some air,” Serena says.

"Ok, darling.”  Sian squeezes her arm, then lets her go.

The blast of cool, crisp, fresh air that hits Serena as she opens the door makes her shiver, but it’s a welcome distraction.  There’s a group of people smoking on the patio and she gives them a polite smile as she through them and out the other side to find the rest of the courtyard empty, save one lone woman sitting on one of the benches.  She wanders over, means to ask if she can join her, but when the woman hears her approaching and lifts her head to look at her, all Serena can manage is a noise that sounds somewhere between a panicked guinea pig and her creaky central heating.

As a reasonable human being with two eyes in her head and half a brain between her ears, Serena can appreciate a beautiful woman when she sees one.  And she’s just seen one.  The difference this time is that she can feel it deep in her belly.  She can’t quite identify the ‘it’ she’s feeling, but it’s definitely there.

She realises she must have been silently staring for too long and sees a flicker of... amusement?... on the woman’s face.

“Can I help you?”

Serena laughs self-consciously, internally kicking herself.

“Sorry, I...”  She gestures to the seat with a questioning look, getting a quick nod in response.

Once settled, they catch each other’s eye and Serena grins shyly.  It’s only now that she notices the unlit cigarette between the woman’s delicate fingers, her thumb absent-mindedly flicking it as if to rid it of ash.

“I think you’re meant to light it,” Serena says quietly.

The woman turns to her, confused, before Serena points at the cigarette.

“Oh!”  The woman retrieves a whole packet from her jacket pocket and slips the cigarette inside, replacing the packet, then twining her hands together in her lap.

“I quit,” she explains.

“Right,” says Serena, understanding.  “Because all non-smokers carry a packet of cigarettes on their person.”  She smirks.  “Just in case.”

The woman narrows her eyes in thought and Serena feels like she’s being sized up.

“Just in case a beautiful woman comes along and asks for a cigarette.”

Serena feels it in her stomach again, recognises it this time.  Desire.  Unexpected, but not unwelcome, she realises.

The woman’s expression is intense, almost daring - and after all the disasters this evening, Serena wonders if maybe she’s been looking in the wrong places.  She feels a smirk appear on her own face, the realisation that she’s very much attracted to this stranger - this female stranger, in the back garden of Sian’s local - somehow making an awful lot of things fall into place.

“I don’t smoke,” she whispers.

The woman’s eyes grow even darker and Serena almost jumps her there and then.

“Presumptuous,” comes the reply, the woman’s eyes flickering down to Serena’s lips.

They jump at the sound of the back door slamming shut and Serena suddenly becomes acutely aware of the fact that they’re now alone in the courtyard, illuminated only by the light filtering through the toilet window and a couple of strings of fairy lights in the trees.

The woman turns back to her and sticks out a hand.

“Bernie,” she says.  Serena takes her hand, closes her fingers around Bernie’s palm and replies, “Serena.”

Their hands linger for a moment, then Bernie pulls away.

“Beautiful name,” she says.  “Suits you.”

Serena bows her head and murmurs her thanks.

They sit for a while, fleeting glances at each other sometimes coinciding, and listen to the muffled songs - all bass and no melody - playing from inside the pub.

“Who are you hiding from?”

Serena opens her mouth to reply, has to shut it and swallow hard to make her voice behave.

“Men,” she manages.

Bernie makes a noise and Serena is nearly preparing to perform CPR, before she realises that it’s just laughter.  It’s an extraordinary sound and she finds it impossible not to laugh with her.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place.”  Bernie’s gaze is nigh on incendiary and Serena has to look away as she explains.

“My friend...  She reckons I need to get back out there.”  She risks a glance at Bernie and sees her face softening.  “I’ve had a bitch of a year.  Sian has been eyeing up potential candidates for me all night.”

“How kind,” Bernie chuckles.

“Wasn’t getting anywhere so I came out here for a breather,” she finishes.

There’s a pause.  Then Bernie shifts slightly to face Serena better.

“And are you ‘getting anywhere’ out here?”

Serena sees the opportunity, a different tack, an adventure, a world of possibilities.  Bernie’s face is hopeful, her lips so inviting.  Serena inches closer.

“I think I’m trying to,” she murmurs.

“You’re succeeding.”

Bernie’s mouth is so close now, close enough that Serena can smell the beer on her breath.  It’s a familiar smell, but the situation is... oh... so different.  She looks into Bernie’s eyes - only now realising that she’s been fixed on her lips.

“I’ve never done this,” she whispers.

“Me neither.”

All at once, Bernie’s mouth is on hers, Bernie’s hand on her thigh, her own hands finding their way to Bernie’s arms.  It’s so soft and warm and so unlike any other kiss.  Serena’s entire being tingles as Bernie’s lips pull back a fraction and ghost a second kiss to her top lip.

They separate a few inches, their eyes locked, and Serena’s lungs somehow remember their purpose, heaving in a bucketful of air just in time for her to dive back in - hungry, intoxicated, desperate.

They kiss and kiss and kiss and she’s never been so alive in her life.  Her hands slide up over Bernie’s shoulders and into her hair and, damn, it’s so soft she can hardly feel it.  She feels Bernie’s tongue touch her bottom lip and can’t suppress the rumbling moan she makes when it finally touches her own.

God knows how long they stay like that, but when they eventually part, breathing ragged and fingers trembling, Serena’s jaw is starting to ache.  She blinks her eyes open and finds Bernie looking anxious, so she tucks a golden wave behind her ear and grins even harder.  This seems to relax Bernie a little and they return their hands to their own laps, thighs still touching.

“Wait,” Bernie frowns.  “Never kissed a stranger or never kissed a woman?”

Serena giggles.  “Neither.  Both.”  Bernie raises her eyebrows.  “Didn’t even know I wanted to do either until about ten minutes ago.”

“Bloody hell,” Bernie whispers.

“Yeah,” Serena sighs.

She places a hand on Bernie’s thigh to get her attention.  When Bernie turns to her, she starts to lean in.

“I think I want to do it again, though.”

There’s a millisecond, before Bernie reacts, in which Serena panics and convinces herself that she’s got this wrong, that this is just what it is - a tipsy kiss in a pub garden with a handsome stranger.  She almost backtracks, blames her daring on the alcohol, but Bernie surges forward and crushes their lips together again.

Through the window in the back door, Sian sees her friend pressed up against another woman.  She huffs out a good-natured laugh and rolls her eyes, leaves them to it and heads back to the bar to seduce more men.

[megabadbunny]

if we let go (4/?)

He pulls her down for another kiss and he doesn’t mean it to be such a needy thing, so desperate and harsh and hungry, but the way her lips part almost immediately makes him suspect she’s every bit as starved as he is.

I.e., Rose gets a choice, even if she has to carve it out for herself. In this chapter, she and the metacrisis Doctor choose just how vulnerable they’re willing to be with each other.

***

rose x ten, rose x tentoo; a journey’s end fixit (of sorts), dedicated to @travelingrose , whose very good questions reignited my love/hate relationship with this episode/storyline, and to @goingtothetardis, who kept me encouraged while writing (thank you dahling!!! <3). (i believe this also fills some rose x tentoo / tentoo day / tenth doctor month prompts from @timepetalsprompts and @doctorroseprompts​ .) heavy angst, but also lots of flirting, fluff, romance, some adventure, and some smut; sfw versions on tumblr & ff.net, nsfw versions on ao3 and teaspoon. this chapter is where the nsfw stuff officially kicks in.

***

prologue | chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5

chapter four: what it is and where it stops, nobody knows

He isn’t surprised by the shrieks that pierce the night air. If anything, he’s surprised it took so long. He is, however, shocked at the sight of Rose, stumbling bleary-eyed into the galley, jacketless and bare-footed.

(Was she sleeping? Where? Just how tired is she?)

It’s not like he forgot she was here—how could he?—but the fact that she’s back onboard the TARDIS still gives him a jolt somehow, like plucking bacon straight out of the sizzling-hot frying-pan and managing to be astonished when it burns your hand.

“Can I help you?” the Doctor asks.

“Can’t sleep. You?”

“Can’t say I’ve tried.”

Rose blinks at him, confused, eyes narrowed against the bright galley light. “Oh,” she says, realizing. “You’re—the other you.”

The Doctor bites back the sarcastic response hiding behind his teeth. “That’s right,” he says instead, downing a gulp of his coffee. It’s black, bitter, and it might as well be jet fuel. He grimaces. “The other me.”

Another cry rings out, and Rose shivers, hugging herself against an invisible chill. “Actually, I wanted to ask—that isn’t Donna, is it? Making that noise? She’s…she’s not in pain?”

The Doctor softens a bit at that despite himself. For all her claims of change, beneath that tough new battle-hardened exterior, Rose is still Rose—tender-hearted and compassionate, sometimes to a fault. Gods, he’s missed that. She and Donna would have got on splendidly.

“No,” he replies. “She’s still in stasis. Can’t feel a thing.” He holds up his medscreen for Rose to see, the stats and figures from Donna’s wrist transceiver blinking across the tablet surface. “I’ll know the instant that changes, if it changes.”

Rose pales in horror at the sound of the next gut-wrenching shout. “Oh my god,” she says, instantly alert, all traces of sleepiness evaporated in a millisecond. “The other Doctor—what’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing’s wrong, it’s all to be expected.” He swallows another mouthful of the tar in his mug and frowns in distaste. Dreadful stuff, coffee, but tea seems just a little too indulgent at the moment. “Time Lord memories in a human brain, remember? Or human enough, anyway.”

“Is he gonna have the same trouble as Donna?”

“No, no, nothing like that. Got enough of my original genetic material to keep all his grey matter from leaking out.” He drinks in a deep breath. “Now, the nightmares, on the other hand…”

He trails off, because Rose has got that look on her face, and maybe it’s been a few years (or a few centuries, feels about the same), but he still knows that look, still knows it exactly, the someone-is-hurting-and-I’ve-gotta-do-something-about-it look. Which is a problem, because if he knows himself like he thinks he does—and unfortunately, a millennia is more than enough time to get to know yourself, your few good qualities and many, many flaws alike—this will not end well, not for anyone.

“Rose,” the Doctor says warningly, but already she’s padding out of the gallery, her footfalls echoing softly in the corridor.

The Doctor swears under his breath. “Wait,” he says, louder, pushing up from the table so hard his chair slams to the tiles with a thwack. He sprints after her, but by the time he reaches the hall, Rose is already meters and meters off—she’s faster than he remembers somehow, or is that just one more way that she’s different from before?—and he shouts, “Just leave it alone, Rose. Trust me!”

Not the most brilliant choice of words at the end there, he thinks when she doesn’t stop.

 ***

 Fire, fire everywhere and—

burning

(red-hot white-hot iron and copper and pennies, steel, metallic and cold-boiling in his mouth)

Skin, bonding in nano-increments, cells knitting together over bones grown solid and if he could, he would double over with the pain of it, the unbearable hurt of becoming real

“What are you whinging about?” Harriet Jones asks, arms crossed over a gaping black hole in her chest. “At least you got a new heart out of all this.”

(real isn’t how you are made, said the skin horse, it’s a thing that happens to you)

I’m sorry, he says, or tries to say, but he hasn’t got a tongue yet, just rows and rows of razor-sharp teeth tearing the insides of newborn cheeks

Laughter, and when he looks up again, past the blood-red haze clouding his fetal eyes, the Harriet-thing is grinning, skin stretched too-tight over a Halloween-store-parody of a skull. “Absolutely the same man,” she says, words dripping with disgust

and the faintest hint of something ruby-red—

“I never asked for it,” he spits out as soon as words can take form in his mouth. “I can’t count you amongst my many sins.”

Curling in on himself, a ribbon that twists and cramps and contracts, muscles rippling under the skin; raw fingers scratch themselves bloody and reach stretch break into the

(does it hurt? asked the rabbit)

(she opens her maw and entire galaxies float inside, suspended in midnight-black ink, rainbow-swirling like an oil slick)

“No, no,” he begs (wheezes; throat is parched and cracked and dry; xtonic radiation is a cruel and cowardly bitch)

(Please Susan please please please help)

“What do you expect her to do?” asks Rose, circling a protective arm around his granddaughter (what’s left of her, anyway, blurred and wet and staining Rose’s shirt). “She’s just as dead as the rest of them.”

Tear ducts form just in time for salt to well up in his eyes, burning his cheeks, holy water scorching clean in blistering trenches

(galaxies dissolve one-by-one and he can hear feel smell taste every one of them dying, rotting-sweet dead flowers dirty crumpled five-pound notes ash in his mouth)

Hand new and complete and he reaches out but Donna is there instead, and he watches, helpless, as she falls in agonizing slow-motion; it would almost be funny except wait it is funny he is laughing he is laughing he is laughing so hard he cries why can’t he stop

crawls over to her prone body, crumpled on the grating, dying over scattered galaxy crumbs and sputtering embers and he turns her onto her back, and something black is where her eyes should be, overflowing and staining fire-red hair

“I didn’t mean to,” he chokes out, but she can’t hear, the black stuff swells up in her nose and her mouth and her ears and it burns everywhere it touches, eating away at her skin and her hair and her cut-up leather jacket (and oh, the fit she would throw if she knew)

(it doesn’t happen all at once, said the skin horse, you become. it takes a long time)

(Doctor, she says, and her voice sounds funny and far-away)

“No, no, not that,” he pleads. “Anything else—”

She turns what’s left of her skeleton-face toward him and she screams

 **

 “Doctor!”

Air sharp in his lungs like a knife and the Doctor can’t get enough of it, gulping and choking until he thinks it might gash his throat.

“Shhh, you’re okay, you’re okay, it’s just a nightmare, it isn’t real—”

Hands on his chest, smaller than his but familiar, but they’re gone, she’s gone, all of her, and she’s never—

Frantic knocking against his ribs and he wonders if he’s ever been in a place so dark before, ever witnessed anything that ate the light like this. One of his hands slides beneath those on his chest, checking, and—yes, there it is. One heart, just the one. Damn.

“Doctor?” says the voice again, quieter this time. “Are you awake? Are you all right?”

Oh, god.

Impressions of the nightmare slowly fade, blinked away like the remnants of too-bright lights splashed across the backs of his eyelids, and the darkness in his room dissolves bit by aching bit. He can just make out the shape of someone else in his bed, silhouetted by the dim light leaking beneath his bedroom door. Too murky to make out any details, but she’s haunted his subconscious long enough that he would know her anywhere, unmistakable in any form.

“Rose?” rasps the Doctor, his voice rough from shouting (crying?).

“Yeah,” she says, fingers curling in his tee-shirt. “I’m here, with you. Remember? And everything’s gonna be…”

The Doctor doesn’t hear what she says next—blood rushes in his ears, pins-and-needles and a high-pitched whine and a thick thump-thump-thumping; cold sweat beads on his brow, and he fights the nausea threatening to wash over him. Forcing his breathing to slow, he pushes up in the bed. He can feel her staring at him, feel her concern. Relief and embarrassment rise up in equal measure, searing-hot fluid in a thin-skinned blister.

“Please get out,” he pants.

Her hands stall on his chest. “Doctor?”

“Please,” he says, brokenly, knuckles scraping the tears from his cheeks. He curses himself for ever letting anyone see him like this, for ever allowing himself to be so shamefully pathetic. “You never should have—I don’t need you here. Get out.”

The Doctor can practically hear Rose’s heart hardening at that.

Her next breath is tremulous, watery. “Fine.”

The bed jostles with the force of her movement, bedclothes twisting as she crawls over them and gropes semi-blindly for the edge of the mattress, and the Doctor realizes she actually listened to him this time. Really, properly listened—and she’s really, properly going. Now the panic rushes in, and the guilt, settling heavily at the pit of his stomach. Please no please don’t go please don’t leave please…

“Wait,” he calls hoarsely after her, but her feet have already reached the floor. “Rose—”

“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it. Tell a girl Get out enough times, eventually it gets through her thick skull.”

He springs out of bed just in time to grab her hand before it can twist the doorknob. “Rose, stop. Please.”

“Why? Planning to call up any other regenerations to come spit in my face?” she snaps, her back turned to him. “How about my first Doctor, the one who died on the Gamestation? Want to bring him on over so he can have a go at me, too?”

Her shoulders are tense, hard as flint as the Doctor places his hands on them, gently nudging her until she turns around to face him. Her entire body quakes beneath his touch and he suspects that, just like him, her shivering has got nothing to do with the temperature in the room.

“I fought so hard,” she says plaintively, and the Doctor doesn’t need to see or touch her face to know she’s crying now. He can hear the tears thick in her voice, feel the sobs wracking her frame. “It’s been years, Doctor, and I tried—I thought about trying, settling into a life over there, and I could’ve, there were times I wanted to, I had friends and my family and a good job and there were blokes and a girl and I could’ve—but I couldn’t—not after all the things I did, and if you ever knew—and I just missed you so much, god, I missed you, and I thought—if I tried hard enough—”

Laughing through her tears, Rose shivers even more violently. “God, I’m stupid.”

“Not true,” says the Doctor firmly.

“I am, though,” she says with a sniffle. “I don’t know what else I expected. I mean, it’s not like I thought I’d come back and you’d scoop me up in your arms, or, I don’t know, profess your eternal love for me, or whatever. I just thought, I hoped we could pick up where we’d left off, just the two of us, and Donna too if she wanted, back out in the stars, and I thought, maybe, one day, if I was really, really lucky, maybe you would—”

He cuts her off with a kiss.

She stiffens against him, body going rigid under his hands, and he knows he’s being rude, or unfair, or possibly terribly unchivalrous; definitely something Donna would smack him for, and he wouldn’t blame her. And it’s messy, salty, wet, her tears viscous and sticky on Rose’s cheeks and her lips and now on his as well. But it’s warm, too, in a way that makes him dizzy, his chest expanding, his blood thrilling in his veins. And hopefully Rose can find it in herself to forgive him, because right now he just doesn’t have the words. He can only hope, desperately, that his actions will speak loudly enough in their stead.

(And he would be lying if he said he hadn’t been thinking about this since these eyes first saw her.)

Eventually Rose relaxes in his grip, pulling back with a soft gasp. “You don’t have to do that,” she mumbles.

“Do what?”

She thumbs the tears off her face. “Give me anything out of guilt. Just because you think I want it.”

He nods. “All right.”

He kisses her again.

A strained little whimper rises in Rose’s throat and she snakes her arms around his neck and before he knows it, his arms are responding in kind, wrapping around her and pulling her body flush with his. She’s still shaking but it’s more of a buzz now, something he can sense in his skin, creeping into his skull like a rush of alcohol. His body floods with warmth as her tongue tentatively brushes his lower lip and a flash-vision pops into his mind, detailing how he could push her up against the door—

Suddenly he’s gone a bit jellylike in the knees and the Doctor breaks the kiss with a shudder. The room feels like it’s spinning around him.

(He’s relieved to hear he’s not the only one struggling to hide breaths gone ragged.)

“You…” Rose says, and swallows. “That’s cheating.”

“Never said I’d play fair,” the Doctor replies, step-stumbling back until his legs hit the bed. He sits down, grateful for the support.

Rose doesn’t budge from the door, so the Doctor holds out a hand—can she see it in the almost-black, can she tell he’s reaching out for her?—and after a few horrible moments of nothing, her warm little palm slides along his. She lets him draw her in, and he has every intention of wrapping his arms around her again, comforting them both with a solid, lung-squeezing hug, so he’s surprised when her hands reach out and cup his jaw, tilting his face upward. He wonders if, perhaps, her night-vision is better than his now, if she can see the nervousness and hope written across his features, but soon it’s apparent she’s seeing with her hands; her thumbs stroke the apples of his cheeks, tracing the edges of his sideburns and working up to his temples. His eyes flutter shut at her touch and he fights not to lean into it, like a cat. Fingers tangle in his hair and nails scratch lightly against his scalp and he can’t stop the hum that escapes in response.

He pulls her down for another kiss and he doesn’t mean it to be such a needy thing, so desperate and harsh and hungry, but the way her lips part almost immediately makes him suspect she’s every bit as starved as he is. She deepens the kiss and his tongue chases after hers. Dizzy with want, he clutches at her hips, he’s just got to touch her somewhere, anywhere she’ll let him, he needs to feel her, soft and solid and safe, but she’s still so far away, still oceans and oceans between them—

The Doctor doesn’t even try to hold back a sigh of relief when Rose clambers into his lap, pressing herself against him. The weight of her is warm and reassuring, the frantic pit-pat-patter of her heart against his a welcome rhythm.

“I don’t play fair either,” says Rose, and she kisses him fiercely before he has a chance to reply.

 **

 Afterward, she slumps against him, panting. Eyes shuttering closed, he wraps his arms around her, losing himself in the gentle rise and fall of their chests as their breaths slowly calm. But eventually Rose stirs in his arms, sitting back on his lap; the Doctor imagines if he could see her face in better detail right now, her eyes would be glazed, blinking heavily. He suspects his are doing much the same.

He feels like he should say something, but his breathing is too thick to allow any words out of his mouth. At least, that’s what he tells himself; the truth is, he’s still too stunned by the idea of Rose sitting in his lap to really register anything that’s happening right now, or anything that’s happened in the last few minutes, for that matter. A not-unpleasant buzzing sound has filled his head, pairing nicely with the numb feeling suffusing him below the waist, and it’s just a bit difficult to think past it all.

Rose wriggles off his lap, both of them wincing, and she walks off toward his en suite, fumbling for the light-switch in the dark. Soon she finds it (impressive, considering she’s never been in here before) and searing yellow-white light lances the Doctor’s vision, blinding him with its brightness. Moments later, the Doctor is surprised by the sensation of something soft hitting him in the face. He blinks out the light, confused, pulling a flannel from where it fell in his lap.

“Figured you might want to clean up,” Rose says from the doorway to the en suite. She’s not wrong, and oddly considerate—but something about her sudden frankness and neutral tone sets panic thrumming in the Doctor’s system all over again.

She’s not just going to up and leave after all that, right? Surely she wouldn’t?

The door to the en suite closes, leaving the Doctor alone in the darkness once again, frozen. Slowly, amidst the sounds of flushing and washing-up, he tidies up. The fresh, clean flannel is a blessing on his skin, but it isn’t enough to soothe the anxiety roiling in his skull, especially when the light turns back off and Rose comes out and, quietly, heads straight for the bedroom door. The Doctor wants to ask her to stay, but the words seem wrong, somehow, almost childish, and at any rate, they’re stuck in his throat.

Hand on the doorknob, Rose hesitates. “Did I push you?” she asks, her voice small.

“No,” he answers quickly, thankful that his tongue finally works again. “No, not at all.”

She sighs in relief. “And you, erm. Would you rather I left you al—”

“No.”

Another sigh. “Good.”

The mattress dips beneath her weight as Rose crawls back into the bed, and, his weary brain just a bit slow on the uptake, the Doctor follows after, sure to leave a respectable amount of space between them, just in case Rose wants it. But he soon learns he needn’t have worried; the second his head hits the pillow, Rose snuggles up against him, tucking her head beneath his chin and insinuating one leg between his. Surprised, but nonetheless pleased, the Doctor pulls her into his embrace, wondering how in the universe he managed to be the lucky sod she’s curled up against tonight.

“It’s not your fault, you know,” Rose mutters sleepily into his chest.

The Doctor startles out of his thoughts. “Hm?”

“What happened to Donna. It’s not your fault.”

It’s stupid, really, how quickly the tears spring up behind his eyes. He grits his teeth until the pressure fades, his fists clenching tightly in Rose’s tee-shirt. He has half a mind to untangle himself from her, to get up out of the bed and throw open the doors of the TARDIS and scream at the universe until his voice grows hoarse and his throat bloody, but the other half of his mind gently points out how Rose’s breathing has already evened out, how relaxed her entire body is next to his, how warm and soft she is in his arms. How she’s here, with him, now, despite everything.

With a tired exhale, he nuzzles into Rose’s hair. Fruity shampoo, expensive perfume, the faintest tinge of chemicals from her hair dye all greet him; marveling at how natural it all feels, the two of them close and quiet like this, he breathes it in, committing it to memory, just in case. He closes his eyes and, inch by inch, lets himself loosen.

She’s wrong about Donna, of course. But it was still nice of her to say.

***

Previous: Chapter Three | Next: Chapter Five

[hoodrepublic]

Switch It Up

Pairing: BTS Hoseok x Yoongi x You

Genre: Fluffy fluffiness 

Yoongi froze as he entered the living room, pausing for his eyes to adjust and his brain to register the scene before him. You were curled on the couch, slumped forward with tears streaking down your face, while your hands clutched tightly onto crumpled white tissues. Yoongi then looked to the body beside you – the real reason why he stood statuesque – and huffed out an exasperated sigh. Sitting next to you, in the exact same position was none other than Hoseok. He too had tears rapidly falling down his cheeks, and held not one, not two, but three tissues wrinkled in strong fists.

“You two are ridiculous.”

You barely responded to the voice emitting from the entrance of the room, but with a sniffle and extra hiccup, you turned your gaze to Yoongi and broke out in fresh new tears.

“B-but it’s so sad!”

The latest episode of the newest drama was running its course across the screen in front of you and Hoseok.  As soon as the two of you watched the premiere episode, it was practically love at first scene. It was a romantic drama, with enough sorrow, regret, love, and tragedy to placate you for the next five years. The script was incredibly written, and the scenes were beautiful; tears were bound to come flowing from your eyes with each passionately acted episode.

“You should sit here and watch it with us.”

“Uh, I’ll pass.”

Hoseok shushed the two of you from the side, not even moving a muscle as you and Yoongi conversed. His eyes stayed glued to the screen before him; he did not want to miss even a millisecond of delirious action. As Yoongi walked away from the room and entered the conjoining kitchen, your gaze returned to the television and you sniffled again, once more focusing on the screen. You snuggled farther into Hoseok’s side, and he wrapped an arm warmly around your body, but before long you were both moving apart from the other, reaching for the tissue box again because those damned emotions were just shooting sky high. Who knew one episode could be so traumatic?

By the end of the drama, the day was beginning to bid farewell to the land, and the darkened sky was making a return appearance. Yoongi shuffled his way back into the room, deeming it acceptable now that the show was over, and the faucets coming from the two pairs of eyes had been shut off.

“Did you want me to make dinner? Seeing as you two probably need to get your bearings together and come back to reality.” Yoongi stood once again in the door way, his favourite spot when he didn’t want to get too far into the room of make believe sorrow and despair. It was kind of him to offer his services, yet Yoongi in the kitchen usually wasn’t a good match.

Clearing your throat, you lifted yourself off from the couch and began walking towards Yoongi. “No, I’ll make dinner. How does pasta sound for tonight?”

By the end of your question, your arms had found their way around Yoongi’s waist, and your head rested gently on his chest. You felt his arms return the favour and a gentle kiss met your hair.

“Pasta sounds good.”

You smiled up at him before you left for the kitchen, preparing what you needed to make the night’s dinner. You figured he finally moved from his rooted position by the entry, and sat slouched against Hoseok just like you were moments before. The three of you had been in a relationship for five months, so finding the right balance between everyone was still fresh.

Yoongi was the more rational and logical of your two boyfriends, using his brain more often than his heart. It explained why he never enjoyed watching these dramas with you, explaining it with “I just can’t connect with their problems,” and other reasons like that. He just couldn’t resonate with the strong feelings or emotional episodes that were often a trademark of these types of romantic shows. Your other boyfriend, Hoseok, was a different story altogether. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and was never afraid to show exactly how he was feeling. Whenever you wanted to watch a drama, cuddled up with one of your loves, he was always the one to volunteer immediately, loving the dramas as much as you did. He understood the intense emotion and the heartfelt confessions; he cried when you cried, and laughed when you laughed. All in all, Hoseok was the boyfriend who understood human emotions the best.

By the time your mind ran through all the reasons why the two men were so different, they were hollering from the living room wondering just when it was the food would be done. Since apparently they were absolutely starving and if they didn’t get any food that second, they were sure their stomachs would eat them from the inside out.

“Yah, yah, yah, it’s all ready. Come and get it you monsters.” A light chuckle and a shake of your head went unnoticed to the two bodies bounding into the room. If you didn’t know any better, you would have assumed the last time they ate was a month ago.

Your pasta was a huge success with the boys, their full mouths giving mumbled praise and thanks. Once everything was clean, you spooned some ice cream into bowls as dessert, and their ravenous appetite seemed to come back to a more human level.

“So what were you two watching that made you so emotional?” Yoongi shoveled a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth and looked dubiously over at the two of you for an answer he wasn’t sure he even wanted.

“You wouldn’t understand. You had to be there.” Hoseok responded lightly in return, taking his own spoon into his mouth and humming at the refreshing and cooling ice cream that landed onto his tongue.

“I wouldn’t understand? Try me.”

“Well for starters, the two main characters are madly in love with each other. But their families don’t know they are together and don’t really like the other person. Then one day they decided to confess to each of their parents that they are dating, but it was only because they were both set up for arranged marriages. Needless to say, their parents were furious and threatened to disown their own children! Now the two lovers decided to run away together and start a life, but of course their families were completely against that too, and sent people out looking for them. It’s just so intense!”

For a minute Yoongi just stared at Hoseok, not moving even the slightest muscle, while Hoseok stared back just as frozen. You looked between the two, waiting for someone to break the impromptu staring contest.

“Yah you’re right. I totally don’t get it.”  Yoongi completely dismissed Hoseok’s passionate rambling of the current drama, and went straight back to his bowl of ice cream, scraping at the ceramic to ensure every last drop made it onto his spoon. Hoseok just stared a couple seconds longer, before he too, with a slight huff, went back to his ice cream as well. As for you; well you just lightly chuckled at the two opposing people in your life, but your mind was also whirring away with a well-crafted plan.

“So I have an idea.” You started your proposition just as the boys were setting down their spoons, knowing now that all attention would be on you, rather than divided between the sweet treat.

“Oh no.”

“Please no, anything but your ideas.”

“Hey! I’m offended; my ideas are good…sometimes.” You pouted at the looks you were receiving in front of you. So sometimes your ideas didn’t exactly go as planned, but they always ensured a good laugh! Even though that laugh usually came a week, maybe month, later.

And now Yoongi was prepared to derail your plan before it even began, “If this idea is anything like the time you decided to make a beach in our living room, you can count me out.”

So the sand got everywhere, so the fuse blew because of all the lights, heaters, and iPods plugged in to ensure a real beachy scene, but it was still a fun few minutes where it felt as though, on a rainy day, you were really at the beach.

But once one person started walking down memory lane, others are usually sure to follow. Namely Hoseok, “Or what about that time, the kiddy pool was filled up, left out overnight, and made into a small ice rink.”

Yeah, that definitely wasn’t the best of your moments. It seemed like a good idea at first; your mind thinking of all the fun that would be had with your own personal ice skating rink in the middle of winter. But of course, your mind failed to think of the possibility that the water wouldn’t freeze all the way through, that it would crack, and because of the small space of the kiddy pool, someone would trip on the crack, fall out of the pool, and seriously injure themselves.

“Or what about that time when – “

“Ok, thank you very much. I think we all get the picture here. But seriously, this idea will cause no lights to go out, or bodily harm to come to any of you. It’s harmless, really.”

“I don’t know.”

“I think I’ll still pass on it.”

“Just hear me out will you? Seriously, it’s not that bad. It would be funny!”

“Fine, make it quick. But if I think for a second my life will be on the line, I’m gone.”

You beamed at your two boyfriends, glad they at least accepted to hear out your idea, even though their faces where filled with frown lines.

“Ok, so you know how you two are so different? Like Hoseok will watch dramas and cry with me, while Yoongi is always the stoic one who refuses to sit and watch even a sappy commercial? What if you to switched personalities for a day? Wouldn’t that be funny?” You were giggling at your thoughts, and were about to explain your idea further when you got cut off.

“I’m sorry you want us to do what now?”

“I make it a point to not watch those dramas. Why would I agree to this?”

Yoongi and Hoseok were looking at you with incredulous eyes, not believing you suggested such an idea, but also not understanding why you would in the first place. How was this funny?

“Oh come on, be open minded a bit guys! It would be like in those sci-fi movies where two people switch bodies. But instead of us going on some crazy mission in order to find the machine that can turn you back to your correct body, we’ll just say that you have from morning until dinner tomorrow to be the other person. See how you guys handle it.”

“Pass.”

“I second that.”

You frowned again and let out a sigh, but frankly you really didn’t expect your novel idea to go over that well. Really, what were you thinking? As you lowered your head and began clearing the table of the final dishes, you didn’t notice the mischievous glance that was paced between Hoseok and Yoongi. Nothing else was said that night about your silly idea.

The following day you awoke with the early morning sun, and made your way quietly into the kitchen. As per usual, you began making breakfast for your boys, preparing food you knew they loved to start the day off on the right foot. You were just watching the food sizzle and pop in the pan in front of you when you heard muffled footsteps making their way into the kitchen. A soft smile graced your features, and you figured it was Hoseok coming down the hall. He was always the second one to wake up after yourself, and you waited patiently for his arms to curl around your body as they usually did for his way to say good morning.

“Good morning beautiful! You look refreshing this morning as always. Did you have any plans for today? I hear the latest episode of our favourite drama came out last night, and I’m dying to watch it with you.”

You paused your movements for a second, brows furrowed in utter confusion. The time was right for Hoseok to be awake, and the words certainly sounded like something he would say, and the energy level was definitely high enough for Hoseok this early in the morning. The only problem was that it didn’t sound like him at all. Slowly swiveling around, you began wondering why on earth Yoongi would be acting so strange and – oh. You completely forgot the idea you proposed last night; for them to change their personalities with the other and see what it would be like spending the day as someone else. To be honest, after the failed attempt at convincing them, you didn’t think they would change their minds and play along, but here you were standing in the kitchen, staring bug eyed at Yoongi with a huge grin set precisely on his over joyed face.  Oh he was pulling off Hoseok surprisingly well.

“Hey sunshine, what’s for breakfast today?” Yoongi strode over to where you stood frozen against the counter. He placed his arms around your waist and hummed in content as he looked down into the pan of sizzling bacon and toast.

“Can I help you with anything?”

You had yet to speak any words, but quickly shook yourself of the day dream.

“Well you can set the table if you like?”

“Anything for you love.”

As Yoongi skipped away to set the table, you shook you head with a light chuckle. If the day was going to continue like this, then you were in for many amusing hours. You couldn’t wait to see what Hoseok as Yoongi would be like too.

Speak of the devil; just as you were plating the breakfast for everyone, Hoseok shuffled himself into the kitchen. Along the way he smacked his lips, ruffled his rumpled hair, and gave a peck onto yours and Yoongi’s forehead. It was amazing how well he too was being another person. It was as though the two of them really did switch bodies.

“Ok lovers, what are you all doing for the day.”

Hoseok: “I’m going to work on some music for a bit, see where that takes me.”

Yoongi: “You and I, my dear, have a cuddle date with the sofa and our favourite drama. You get the tissues, and I’ll get the tea.”

You burst out laughing within a split second, finding their switched personalities absolutely amusing. You were in awe of the ease that they pulled it off with. If nothing else, it told you just how well each of them knew each other for them to so perfectly switch.

As you laughed, wiping away happy tears that managed trail down your face, you missed the mischievous glance sent silently between the two men. While you were getting ready for bed the night before, Yoongi and Hoseok had talked about your little idea. They weren’t too keen on it, but they figured if it would make you happy, then they would do it. They finished up their little conference as you walked out of the bathroom, watching as you snuggled up with them unaware that anything had transpired.

Now, as they sat watching you cry from laughing so hard, they were glad they went along with this little plan. They always wanted to make you satisfied within the relationship, and to them they knew that this would be yet another silly memory they would always be able to bring up.

For the entire day Yoongi acted perfectly as Hoseok, and Hoseok exquisitely manifested into Yoongi. Dramas streamed loudly from the television set as you curled into Yoongi’s side. From time to time you heard sniffles beside you, and you giggled attempting to figure out if Yoongi was actually a secret drama lover and being genuine with his emotions or it was still an act. Either way you didn’t care, you were enjoying the afternoon spent with one of your boyfriends.

From time to time, Hoseok came into the living room from the music room and joined the two of you on the couch. Slinging his arm naturally around your shoulders, making sure to touch Yoongi’s as well, but he would soon be off, hibernating in the secluded back room. By the time dinner time came, the drama’s credits rolled on screen, and Hoseok stood precisely in the doorway, just like Yoongi usually did.

You finally stood and stretched your limbs high above your head. Wordlessly you walked out of the kitchen to begin making dinner, while Yoongi and Hoseok once again moved closer to each other.

“Dinner’s ready!” You hollered from the kitchen, placing the last dish of home cooked food on the round table. Once everyone seated themselves at the table and began eating, you brought up the events of the day.

“Ok, I think it’s safe to be yourself again. How’d it go? From my perspective, that was the funniest thing to ever happen!” You laughed once again to yourself, quickly reliving the events of the day.

“If anything came out of the day, it was awesome cuddling up with you, and watching how passionately you get absorbed into a drama.”

“And I quite enjoyed writing songs. Who knew that it could be so calm and relaxing? But man, was the entire day tiring.”

“Absolutely exhausting.”

“Let’s never do that again.”

“Agreed.”

Both then turned to face you, wanting your assurance as well from the deal they just formed; this was a day they weren’t particularly keen on repeating again, even if you did enjoy every second of it.

“Ok fine, no more boyfriend switch ups. But what if a brain switching machine was invented one day?”

You couldn’t help your laughter that accompanied your two boyfriends’ groans from your remark. Ok, so maybe coming up with new ideas wasn’t really your forte. But it didn’t matter, seeing as the two men in your life were absolutely perfect already.

 _____

Hope you all enjoyed that! I don’t know where that idea came from, but I had a lot of fun writing it. Hopefully you had as much fun reading it. 

Please remember to comment and request! 

~ Admin Sky :)

[technicalsolutions88]

Google’s Stadia is an impressive piece of engineering to be sure: Delivering high definition, high framerate, low latency video to devices like tablets and phones is an accomplishment in itself. But the game streaming services faces serious challenges if it wants to compete with the likes of Xbox and PlayStation, or even plain old PCs and smartphones.

Here are our nine biggest questions about what the service will be and how it’ll work.

1. What’s the game selection like?

We saw Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey (a lot) and Doom: Eternal, and a few other things running on Stadia, but otherwise Google’s presentation was pretty light on details as far as what games exactly we can expect to see on there.

It’s not an easy question to answer, since this isn’t just a question of “all PC games,” or “all games from these 6 publishers.” Stadia requires a game be ported, or partly recoded to fit its new environment — in this case a Linux-powered PC. That’s not unusual, but it isn’t trivial either.

Porting is just part of the job for a major studio like Ubisoft, which regularly publishes on multiple platforms simultaneously, but for a smaller developer or a more specialized game, it’s not so straightforward. Jade Raymond will be in charge of both first-party games just for Stadia as well as developer relations; she said that the team will be “working with external developers to bring all of the bleeding edge Google technology you have seen today available to partner studios big and small.”

What that tells me is that every game that comes to Stadia will require special attention. That’s not a good sign for selection, but it does suggest that anything available on it will run well.

Google scores a custom AMD GPU to power its Stadia cloud gaming hardware

2. What will it cost?

Perhaps the topic Google avoided the most was what the heck the business model is for this whole thing.

Do you pay a subscription fee? Is it part of YouTube or maybe YouTube Red? Do they make money off sales of games after someone plays the instant demo? Is it free for an hour a day? Will it show ads every 15 minutes? Will publishers foot the bill as part of their normal marketing budget? No one knows!

It’s a difficult play because the most obvious way to monetize also limits the product’s exposure. Asking people to subscribe adds a lot of friction to a platform where the entire idea is to get you playing within 5 seconds.

Putting ads in is an easy way to let people jump in and have it be monetized a small amount. You could even advertise the game itself and offer a one-time 10 percent off coupon or something. Then mention that YouTube Red subscribers don’t see ads at all.

Sounds reasonable, but Google didn’t mention anything like this at all. We’ll probably hear more later this year closer to launch, but it’s hard to judge the value of the service when we have no idea what it will cost.

3. What about iOS devices?

Google and Apple are bitter rivals in a lot of ways, but it’s hard to get around the fact that iPhone owners tend to be the most lucrative mobile customers. Yet there were none in the live demo and no availability mentioned for iOS.

Depending on its business model, Google may have locked itself out of the App Store. Apple doesn’t let you essentially run a store within its store (as we have seen in cases like Amazon and Epic) and if that’s part of the Stadia offering, it’s not going to fly.

An app that just lets you play might be a possibility, but since none was mentioned, it’s possible Google is using Stadia as a platform exclusive to draw people to Pixel devices. That kind of puts a limit on the pitch that you can play on devices you already have.

4. What about games you already own?

A big draw of game streaming is to buy a game once and play it anywhere. Sometimes you want to play the big awesome story parts on your 60-inch TV in surround sound, but do a little inventory and quest management on your laptop at the cafe. That’s what systems like Steam Link offer.

Epic Games is taking on Steam with its own digital game store, which includes higher take-home revenue rates for developers.

But Google didn’t mention how its ownership system will work, or whether there would be a way to play games you already own on the service. This is a big consideration for many gamers.

It was mentioned that there would be cross platform play and perhaps even the ability to bring saves to other platforms, but how that would work was left to the imagination. Frankly I’m skeptical.

Letting people show they own a game and giving them access to it is a recipe for scamming and trouble, but not supporting it is missing out on a huge application for the service. Google’s caught between a rock and a hard place here.

5. Can you really convert viewers to players?

This is a bit more of an abstract question, but it comes from the basic idea that people specifically come to YouTube and Twitch to watch games, not play them. Mobile viewership is huge because streams are a great way to kill time on a train or bus ride, or during a break at school. These viewers often don’t want to play at those times, and couldn’t if they did want to!

So the question is, are there really enough people watching gaming content on YouTube who will actually actively switch to playing just like that?

Photo: Maskot / Getty Images

To be fair, the idea of a game trailer that lets you play what you just saw five seconds later is brilliant. I’m 100 percent on board there. But people don’t watch dozens of hours of game trailers a week — they watch famous streamers play Fortnite and PUBG and do speedruns of Dark Souls and Super Mario Bros 1. These audiences are much harder to change into players.

The potential of joining a game with a streamer, or affecting them somehow, or picking up at the spot they left off, to try fighting a boss on your own or seeing how their character controls, is a good one, but making that happen goes far, far beyond the streaming infrastructure Google has created here. It involves rewriting the rules on how games are developed and published. We saw attempts at this from Beam, later acquired by Microsoft, but it never really bloomed.

Streaming is a low-commitment, passive form of entertainment, which is kind of why it’s so popular. Turning that into an active, involved form of entertainment is far from straightforward.

6. How’s the image quality?

Games these days have mind-blowing graphics. I sure had a lot of bad things to say about Anthem, but when it came to looks that game was a showstopper. And part of what made it great were the tiny details in textures and subtle gradations of light that are only just recently possible with advances in shaders, volumetric fog, and so on. Will those details really come through in a stream?

Damn.

Don’t get me wrong. I know a 1080p stream looks decent. But the simple fact is that high-efficiency HD video compression reduces detail in a noticeable way. You just can’t perfectly recreate an image if you have to send it 60 times per second with only a few milliseconds to compress and decompress it. It’s how image compression works.

For some people this won’t be a big deal. They really might not care about the loss of some visual fidelity — the convenience factor may outweigh it by a ton. But there are others for whom it may be distracting, those who have invested in a powerful gaming console or PC that gives them better detail at higher framerates than Stadia can possibly offer.

It’s not apples to apples but Google has to consider these things, especially when the difference is noticeable enough that game developers and publishers start to note that a game is “best experienced locally” or something like that.

7. Will people really game on the go?

I don’t question whether people play games on mobile. That’s one of the biggest businesses in the world. But I’m not sure that people want to play Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey on their iPa… I mean, Pixel Slate. Let alone their smartphone.

Games on phones and tablets are frequently time-killers driven by addictive short-duration game sessions. Even the bigger, more console-like games on mobile usually aim for shorter play sessions. That may be changing in some ways for sure but it’s a consideration, and AAA console games really just aren’t designed for 5-10 minute gaming sessions.

Add to that that you have to carry around what looks like a fairly bulky controller and this becomes less of an option for things like planes, cafes, subway rides, and so on. Even if you did bring it, could you be sure you’ll get the 10 or 20 Mbps you’ll need to get that 60FPS video rate? And don’t say 5G. If anyone says 5G again after the last couple months I’m going to lose it.

Naturally the counterpoint here is Nintendo’s fabulously successful and portable Switch. But the Switch plays both sides, providing a console-like experience on the go that makes sense because of its frictionless game state saving and offline operation. Stadia doesn’t seem to offer anything like that. In some ways it could be more compelling, but it’s a hard sell right now.

Google’s new Stadia game controller has a few tricks up its sleeves

8. How will multiplayer work?

Obviously multiplayer gaming is huge right now and likely will be forever, so the Stadia will for sure support multiplayer one way or another. But multiplayer is also really complicated.

It used to be that someone just picked up the second controller and played Luigi. Now you have friend codes, accounts, user IDs, automatic matchmaking, all kinds of junk. If I want to play The Division 2 with a friend via Stadia, how does that work? Can I use my existing account? How do I log in? Are there IP issues and will the whole rigmarole of the game running in some big server farm set off cheat detectors or send me a security warning email? What if two people want to play a game locally?

Many of the biggest gaming properties in the world are multiplayer focused, and without a very, very clear line on this it’s going to turn a lot of people off. The platform might be great for it — but they have some convincing to do.

9. Stadia?

Branding is hard. Launching a product that aims to reach millions and giving it a name that not only represents it well but isn’t already taken is hard. But that said… Stadia?

I guess the idea is that each player is kind of in a stadium of their own… or that they’re in a stadium where Ninja is playing, and then they can go down to join? Certainly Stadia is more distinctive than stadium and less copyright-fraught than Colosseum or the like. Arena is probably out too.

If only Google already owned something that indicated gaming but was simple, memorable, and fit with its existing “Google ___” set of consumer-focused apps, brands, and services.

Oh well!

from Mobile – TechCrunch https://ift.tt/2W4pca6 ORIGINAL CONTENT FROM: https://techcrunch.com/