#grungy builds save me once again

[slippinmickeys]

Another Twitter prompt:

1. It was a weird thing to think, but it was odd that they'd put the new chemistry professor in Old Chem. The building -- cramped and dusty with an unreliable heating system -- hadn't actually housed the chemistry department in 35 years. It was now filled mainly with graduate students who either didn't mind that the clanking basement furnace would give up the ghost thrice every February, or just felt lucky to have office space and didn't complain. Dr. Fox Mulder, a tenured and often traveling research professor liked Old Chem, for what it was worth. Its bricks were the same orangey-red of the hoodoos of Bryce Canyon and it sat stalwart and proud on a rise above the river that purled through campus. The offices were small, and they lent everything in them -- from papers written in '82 to the newest state-of-the-art computers -- an aged patina that made you want to smoke a pipe and contemplate philosophy.

In any event, he never seemed to run into the new chemistry professor, even though his office was right next door.

2. One of the kids that rode on the same school bus route on the Vineyard had been a guy named Dana Dupree. He was five years older and a baseball star, and while Mulder hadn’t thought the kid was all that bright, he still worshipped him anyway, until the day Dupree graduated and Mulder never thought about him again.

He supposed that was why he thought the new professor was a man until she showed up at his door with a sheepish looking undergraduate he vaguely recognized from his Tuesday/Thursday lecture.

"I believe this may belong to you," said a caramel-soft voice from his doorway.

He looked up to see a short statured titch of a woman looking at him expectantly. Next to her was said undergraduate, who was hitching his backpack on his shoulder uncomfortably and looking anywhere but Mulder's face.

"Does it?" Mulder asked without standing.

"These are office hours, right?" the kid said, looking up through a thick hatch of shaggy hair.

Mulder looked at his watch. "Indeed they are," he said, and motioned for the boy to sit in one of the chairs opposite his desk -- the only one not covered in sheaves of paper and books. The kid slid into it and the woman in the doorway raised a hand and started to retreat into the hallway when Mulder said:

"And who do I have to thank for the saving of wayward students?"

The woman gave him a small, closed mouth smile that nevertheless reached all the way to her eyes.

"Dr. Dana Scully," she said, nodding at him and taking another step back. "Your new neighbor." With that she was gone.

3. He didn't see her again for almost a month. He was heading down the narrow back stairway that led from Old Chem's parking lot to the third floor hall of offices when he heard a forceful expletive followed by the sound of several light things hitting the floor. When he rounded the next landing, Dr. Scully was carrying an overfilled and close-to-disintegrating cardboard box and looking helplessly down at a wash of manila folders and dot-matrix printouts that were scattered across the floor and accordioning down three steps.

She was bending to put the box down when Mulder came trotting down the last few steps.

"Let me get that," he said, bending down to pick up the sheety detritus which he tapped into a neat stack.

"Thanks," she said, sounding reluctant to accept the help.

When he stood holding the papers out a little awkwardly, she gave him a grudging smile and he tucked the stack carefully into the box she now had balanced on her hip.

"Would you like help carrying all this up?" he asked, "I can get the box?"

"I can manage," she said, and Mulder thought she probably could -- she only had one more flight to go.

"Then at least let me get the doors," he said, bounding back up from the way he came, and seeing her safely to her office.

She gave him a small sideways glance as she unlocked the old Schlage, and when she fumbled with the keys, he reached out and wordlessly took the box from her hands so she could open the door. She gave a last hard shove with her shoulder and she was in, and he entered and put the box gingerly on her desk.

"Wow," he said, taking a look around the room. It was spotless and bright, airy in an effortless sort of way that was near impossible to find in the stuffy confines of Old Chem. "If Professor Abernathy saw this place, I think he'd want to move back in."

She smiled at him and he noticed for the first time that her eyes were a bright liquidly aqua, as cobalt as the Caribbean. His heart beat once, hard, then returned to its normal cadence.

"Then where would I go?" she asked, and he thought he detected maybe a hint of flirt.

"Next door," he offered, "it would be tight and wouldn't be good for much beyond a good game of Battleship, but wayward undergrads wouldn't get lost."

She laughed, a sheath of hair falling into her face, her locks the same color as the sandstone in Utah -- the same color as the bricks of Old Chem.

He felt something in his chest he hadn’t felt in a long time.

4. He normally didn't stay this late, but his TA was out sick and he needed to get the grades turned in by noon the next day.

The moonlight coming through the single window in his office was pale and diaphanous, and it shone in a small rectangle on the grungy berber of his floor, the small desktop lamp illuminating only the papers in front of him.

There was a sharp knock on his door.

"It's open!"

It swung in to reveal Dr. Scully, holding a couple cartons of what looked like Chinese food and two paper-wrapped chopsticks packs, her face looking hesitant but hopeful, her hair a muzzy halo backlit by the fluorescents in the hallway.

"Your light is on a lot later than normal," she said, holding up the cartons, from which drifted the tangy waft of Pad Thai. "Thought you might need some sustenance."

His stomach gurgled in response.

“Partay,” he said, gesturing her in.

She smiled and shuffled in, setting a carton in front of him and the chopsticks on top.

“Apologies for the dimness, the overheads were giving me a headache,” he said, reaching behind him for the large pillar candles he kept in his office -- the building was notorious for losing power in the summer months, and he’d learned to be prepared. “Too weird to eat by candlelight?” he asked, fingering a lighter.

She shrugged and plopped down into the free chair across from his desk and folded her feet under herself, somehow looking cozy in the notoriously uncomfortable chair. He lit the candles and placed one on the desktop between them, unwrapping the chopsticks and rubbing the handles together. He considered her for a moment and she seemed to do the same.

“Do you always order for two?” he finally asked, opening the top of his container and letting the steam puff up gently around his face. He closed his eyes and inhaled dreamily. It smelled wonderful. She opened her own, deftly spearing a bean sprout and delicately nipping it in half. “It makes great leftovers,” she said, then expertly twirled a small bundle of noodles onto her own utensil and took a happy bite. “And I’ve been curious about you,” she finished around a mouthful of food.

“Me?” he asked, surprised. He shoveled in a mouthful with far less finesse and she chuckled at him.

“Yes,” she said, “you. The enigmatic Dr. Mulder. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Normally, he probably would have said something like oh really? and then made a smartass comment about her spying on him, but something held him back. Instead he said, “...what do you want to know?”

She looked at him, chewing thoughtfully. The candlelight gave her a fresh-faced look, her skin dewy and glowing. She had cupid’s bow lips, the color of overripe raspberries. A thought flashed through his head that they would probably taste as good as they looked.

“How long have you been tenured?”

“Five years.”

“Undergrad?”

“Oxford.” She raised an impressed eyebrow.

“Married?”

He choked and covered for it by coughing. She was still looking at him earnestly, expecting an answer.

“Ah,” he said, then cleared his throat. “Almost.”

“Narrowly avoided the institution?” He felt like he was being interviewed by a seasoned criminologist. She was unruffled and laser focused. Normally he would have had sirens going off in his head by now, abort! abort! but he was into it. Really into it.

“Narrowly avoided the spouse .” She grinned and took another bite and he decided to lob one back at her. “Why, you in the market?”

She looked at him levely, chewing no faster or slower than before. When she swallowed, he kept his eyes on the elegant column of her neck, watching her throat work.

“I’m a professor of chemistry, Dr. Mulder,” she said, quirking one eyebrow in a way that charmed him even more. “I’d never rule out adhesion.”

5. It was a tempest. A Goddamn tempest, and it had come rushing off the plains and, propelled by the jet stream, roaring into campus with the force of a freight train. He was halfway to the building that held his evening lecture when the wind picked up, and he was just passing Old Chem when the rain came. A torrential downpour that would have felled even the strongest umbrella. A streak of lighting followed immediately by the crash of thunder and he darted into the Old Chemistry building just to escape it. He was standing in the small foyer looking out the small beaded window panes in the old oak doors -- there were still a few students darting haphazardly into random buildings -- when his phone dinged. He pulled it out of his pocket.

UNIVERSITY EMERGENCY ALERT -- STORM WARNING -- STAY INDOORS -- ALL EVENING CLASSES CANCELLED

Sighing, he turned to head into his office to wait out the storm. He was thinking he had lab results in his briefcase he could probably go over when the power suddenly -- though perhaps not surprisingly -- went out. He drifted up the stairs to his office in the uncomfortable beam of the stairwell’s emergency light box, the bulbs shining brightly in two different directions like some kind of demented wall-eyed robot.

When he got to his door, he saw a small light flitting about the office next to his, then heard a thud and a muffled curse. He knocked lightly.

“Everything all right in there?” he called out.

The door was flung open and a frazzled-looking Dr. Scully stood before him, the too-bright glow of her cell phone flashlight pointing somewhere around his belt buckle.

“Hi,” she said, then rather needlessly added, “the power is out.”

“Welcome to Old Chem,” Mulder said with a trace of sarcasm, just as another flare of lightning highlighted her dressed-down outfit. Unusually, she was wearing jeans, a white tank top that rather nicely showcased the twin pillows of her decolletage and an old chambray shirt, shirtsleeves rolled to her elbows, unbuttoned in the front.

“My phone is about to die and I can’t find my portable charger,” she went on, a bit flustered, “and I also can’t see a god damned thing. If I was near my lab I could probably improvise some kind of glow stick, but I’m… not,” she finished lamely.

“You want some help?” he offered, setting down his briefcase in the hallway. There was an emergency light at the far end, but its light barely reached them. They were mainly highlighted in the red glow of the Exit sign that hung from the ceiling just to their left.

“I was actually on my way out. I give up. I can charge it in my car.”

He’d just noticed that her laptop bag was slung over one shoulder. A crash of deafening thunder shook the building.

“I, uh, wouldn’t go out right now,” he said, holding up the emergency alert on his phone, “it’s biblical out there.” Her shoulders slumped. “Come into my office,” he went on, digging his keys out of his pocket, “I don’t have Pad Thai, but I still have those candles.”

She smiled and he flushed a bit at the memory. It had only been a week and a half ago. She’d been pretty forward, and he’d been about to ask her out when the janitorial crew came rolling down the hallway. They’d quickly emptied the trashcans in the various offices on the floor, but when they kick-started the industrial floor polisher out in the hallway, Mulder had been fairly sure his window had closed.

She passed by him while he held open the door, and was forced to back herself up to the wall so he could squeeze by a moment later to get to the pillar candles and lighter he kept on top of his file cabinet. Their hips grazed ever so slightly as he brushed by her and he caught a heady whiff of her perfume, a spicy, floral scent studded with hints of white musk and bergamot. He had to keep himself from leaning into her to get another sniff.

“You want to have a seat?” he asked, indicating the guest chair.

“Not on your life,” she laughed, “it took three PIlates classes to work out the kink in my back from the last time.”

“Take mine,” he said, and settled himself into the chair across the desk, shifting to try to get comfortable.

After several moments she let out an undignified guffaw and stood.

“Come on,”she said, still chuckling as she rose from his office chair, “let’s go into my office. We’ll be a lot more comfortable.

Slightly chagrined, he grabbed the candles and followed her obediently. She had two nice looking chairs sitting side by side with a small, tasteful side table in between them, and they both settled in.

“Well,” she said, looking at the candles, “this is romantic.”

He chuckled.

“Any idea how long this is supposed to last?” she asked, nodding toward the small window. The sun hadn’t quite set, but the sky was a frightening velvety grey and the branches on the ancient maples outside Old Chem were bending sideways in the thrash.

Mulder pulled up a NOAA app on his phone.

“Radar shows three cells coming through,” he said, pinching the screen to get a bigger picture. “One on top of the other.”

She smirked at the innuendo, but made no move to do or say anything. He tossed the phone on the desktop next to a candle.

“Well,” she said, “any chance you’re up for a game of Battleship?”

XxXxXxXxXxX

She’d actually bought one. He was delighted when, from under her desk, she pulled out a brand new, still-in-the-cellophane, honest-to-god game of Battleship. They were twenty minutes into their second game and she was absolutely handing him his ass.

“How are you so good at this?” he asked her, after he put the last red peg into his submarine.

She studied her board.

“My father was a naval officer,” she said, not looking up, “a Captain when he retired. He was gone a lot. As a kid I would play this game with anyone who would play with me. Even the old lady next door. It made me feel closer to him.”

“Where does he live now?” Mulder asked, then, “C8.”

“Miss,” she said, “He and Mom are in Maryland. B12.”

“Hit. Any siblings?”

“Three.”

“E1?”

“Miss. You?” she asked. “B11.”

“A sister,” he answered, then leaned back and sighed. “You sunk my battleship.

She smiled victoriously. “You giving up?”

“I know when I’ve been bested,” he said.

He looked out the window at the storm as he helped her pack up the game. There was a brief lull in the weather while one cell moved off and another moved in. One of the trees in the diag out her window had been uprooted by the wind and was leaning into one of its compatriots like a soldier limping off the battlefield.

“It’s been nice being stuck here with you,” she said, finally leaning back.

“I’m glad,” Mulder said, nodding to the window, “because we may end up being stuck here all night.”

She put her thumbnail in her mouth and tilted her head. “I can think of worse things.”

“Oh yeah?” he said, swallowing hard.

“Yeah,” she said. “I think you should ask me out.”

He felt himself flush. Again. “If I asked, what would we do?”

“Drinks,” she said, “dancing. Maybe see where the night takes us.”

He nodded at her, considering. He briefly bit the inside of his cheek. “Will you go out with me?” he finally said.

“Yes,” she said, smiling. “When?”

He stood. “Right now,” he said, getting a flash of inspiration, a jagged line of lightning streaking outside the window. “Stay right there.”

The candles sputtered as he swung open her office door. The dim red from the Exit sign gave just illumination for him to go into his own office and pull out the bottom drawer of his desk. When he returned, she was sitting up, intrigued. On her desk he deposited a bottle of Lagavulin and two small rocks glasses.

“You like Scotch?” he asked.

She nodded, smiling. He returned her smile and poured her a finger. He did the same and held it up in salute.

“To our first date,” he said.

“Slainte,” she said, tapping her glass into his own and then taking a slow sip, her eyes never leaving his.

The spirit was as smooth as high C, but burned its way down his esophagus, filling his belly with the warm haze of nerve.

He reached for his phone, which was still sitting on top of her desk, swiping and tapping until the soulful purl of Nina Simone’s Feeling Good began to leak through the tiny speakers. He upped the volume so that the sound of the singer’s velvet voice swelled over the roar of the rain outside, set down his glass and held out his hand to her. She took a large swallow, almost finishing what was in her glass, and set it down next to his, taking his hand. He pulled her to him.

“Is this okay?” he whispered, pressing his hand into the amati curve of her back. There wasn’t much room in the small office, certainly not enough for a good dance, but if they swayed, turning in place like a couple of kids at an eighth grade dance, it would get the job done.

She canted her face up to his, blinking slowly. “Yes,” she said in a voice as low as his had been, and then pressed her head to his chest. He pulled her in even more, pulling their clasped hands in close.

She fit perfectly into the lee of him, and something just felt right about it as she settled in, sighing contentedly. It was like a key sliding into the right lock. Click .

The song was over before either of them were ready for it to be. Mulder didn’t move as the brassy sound of the big band faded into nothingness. He scarcely even breathed. Dr. Scully shifted in his arms, but made no move to step back. After a moment, he worked up the nerve to look down at her and found her looking right back.

“What happens next?” he muttered, tongue feeling thick in his mouth.

“Next?” she said, voice barely a whisper. “We see where the night takes us.”

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

Let Me Get Close To You

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: This is my fic for my @starkerfestivals summer BINGO “wrong number” square. I sat down to write this a couple of days ago & just couldn’t stop - I hope you guys enjoy the cute little verse I created (that I’ll more than likely revisit soon!!). Here’s my bingo card  - if you see something on there you might want written, shoot me a message!!!  Word Count: 7K Warnings: There’s a tiny bit of smut in here, but it’s me writing, so when is that not the case? Summary: 

Stuck with the worst professor for Nuclear Science, Peter tries to vent his frustrations to Ned - only to send a desperate text message to Tony Stark, instead. When an immediate spark and so many things in common make it easy for Peter to fall further for the elegant genius, what’s the worst that could really happen? 

Or: the one where Peter texts the wrong number & romance ensues.

Read on AO3 here. 

---- 

Fuming from a frustrating Nuclear Science class, Peter maturely stomped his way out of the engineering building. They were only two weeks into the semester and the old man already had Peter on edge. His major revolved around the class and his ability to get the most out of the information. The dinosaur that stood at the front of the lecture hall every day hadn’t had an original thought since the 90s and refused to see when others did. Much like every old white man, Dr. Milner’s ideas were the be all end all of a science that changed by the millisecond.

Still pretty new to campus after a late sophomore year transfer, Peter didn’t have many people to turn to that weren’t his nerdy and standoffish teammates on the Academic Decathlon team – most of those guys lived in a world a couple steps from the norm, happily keeping to themselves. Though Peter existed there eighty percent of the time, his need to be social and fill a space in the real world made it impossible to commit to that sort of isolation fully. Straddling the line made it difficult to exist on either side – Peter’s favorite pieces of himself were what kept people away, no matter the lifestyle.

With his mind so heavy with all sorts of negativity, Peter suddenly found himself homesick; he spent so much of his life trying to escape the streets of New York – so far from home now, Peter missed them desperately. Thinking about his tangible connection to his favorite urban wasteland, Peter pulled his phone out and hastily typed in Ned’s new number.

Peter Parker [1:23PM]: Hi, I hate it here. Peter Parker [1:24PM]: Dr. Milner is out to get free thinkers. I may not survive the next fourteen weeks.

Peter already felt a little better after typing the words – the mere ability to get one of his many worries off his chest did wonders. Until his phone pinged with a new text message notification, of course.

Nimble fingers pulled the phone from his pocket, his eyes carelessly looking over the screen as it unlocked. Expecting to see Ned’s name there, Peter almost threw the phone to the ground when Siri’s suggestion registered.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:26PM]: Hi stranger! I think this was meant for someone else, but I too think Dr. Milner is out to squash any new idea that doesn’t fit the mold. In his forty-year career, he hasn’t changed a bit.

Another text message was below it, but Peter forced himself to stop reading – his heart felt like it might beat out of his chest already, too much excitement at once couldn’t be good. Out of all the numbers he could’ve accidentally typed, Tony Stark, New York’s genius and resident beauty, Peter’s secret (though not so much) crush, ended up on the other side of the line. The unbelievability of the idea made Peter consider a well thought out prank. Then again, how did any of his fellow classmates know Tony Stark’s personal number?

Sucking in a deep breath, Peter made himself look at the second text message waiting unread.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:27PM]: I’m not sure how you got this number, but I sincerely hope you make it out alive. If you’re in Milner’s class, you’re on the Nuclear track, which means you must be smart. Trust me, the world needs your future contributions, whatever they might be.

Peter gripped the phone a little harder after reading through the second message over and over again. He let his eyes take in each of the words, wondering, if it really was Tony Stark, how anyone ever survived talking to him. In so few sentences, Peter already felt discombobulated, both more confident and turned around than just seconds before. Aside from his infatuation with the man, Peter understood Tony Stark’s contributions to the technology community and the world at large more than most.

It took him a few minutes to convince himself to text back – every time he tried to type something, his fingers froze just centimeters above the screen. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many questions he wanted to ask to make sure he wasn’t getting catfished. Instead, Peter took the direct route, his courage obviously all or nothing in the face of something as big as an accidental interaction with Tony Stark.

Peter Parker [1:35PM]: Holy crap – excuse me for the bluntness, but is this really Tony Stark? Siri doesn’t often get things wrong, especially since I souped her up. But I’m sure you can understand the apprehension. Peter Parker [1:37PM]: Would you be up for answering a few questions just to make sure?

The tip of his finger tapped against the screen impatiently after he hit the send button, his nerves and the not-so-subtle excitement were barely contained under the surface of his skin. He couldn’t remember a time where feeling alive was so prominent.

A smile slipped across his lips when, a moment later, three consecutive texts vibrated Peter’s phone in succession.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:40PM]: You souped up Siri? Steve Jobs is probably turning over in his grave right now. Maybe – Tony Stark [1:41PM]: I think I’m the one that should be asking the questions, don’t you think? How did you even get this number, Peter Parker? It’s a private line. Maybe – Tony Stark [1:42PM]: I am, though – Tony Stark, I mean.

Peter Parker [1:45PM]: Reconfiguring tech is kind of my thing. I used to dumpster dive in high school – you’d be surprised by the cool pieces of technology people put in their trash. Peter Parker [1:46PM]: Oh, bringing out the big guns – I’m happy to see Siri without my latest addition works for others, too. Peter Parker [1:47PM]: It was an accident, sending those first texts to you. My friend in New York just started a new job that came with a paid phone. I still haven’t saved the number. You are one off from him. Peter Parker [1:48PM]: Alright, Tony Stark. Tell me what campus I’m on.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:53PM]: I’m not surprised by anything human beings do, especially in New York City. Throwing out a perfectly good iPod is certainly not the weirdest thing I’ve heard of. Did you make anything interesting in your trash conversion adventures? Maybe – Tony Stark [1:54PM]: You talk a big game, Mr. Parker. Can you walk the walk, too? Maybe – Tony Stark [1:55PM]: He must be on my payroll, then. The bank of numbers my employees have come from my personal network. Maybe – Tony Stark [1:57PM]: That’s an easy one. You’re at MIT – Milner was there when I was a student. The only thing that’s probably different between then and now is the amount of hair the old bag has.

Peter Parker [2:01PM]: You’re not wrong, Mr. Stark. I made things that helped me be self-sufficient. I grew up really poor and couldn’t afford the things everyone else had – so I figured out how all the tech worked and made my own. I’ve been using a ten-year-old iPhone for ages. Peter Parker [2:03PM]: You bet. Are you challenging me? Peter Parker [2:04PM]: He is, actually. He started in an entry level position two weeks ago. Peter Parker [2:06PM]: It’s gross, isn’t it? I’m glad we’ve moved past projectors in the classroom – the hair on his hand would make for a distracting shadow. Peter Parker [2:07PM]: Okay, okay. I think I’m convinced. One more test, though – send me a picture.

Maybe – Tony Stark [2:14PM]: Oh boy, none of that Mr. Stark shit. As far as you’re concerned, I’m Tony. Only Tony. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:15PM]: You made your own. That’s – impressive. I’m impressed and more than a little curious. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:17PM]: Challenging you, no. Enticing you, yes. I’m visiting Cambridge to do a guest lecture series next week. Come see what Stark Industries is up to – I’d love to hear what you think. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:18PM]: It was as bad as you think. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:20PM]: Okay, Peter Parker. [IMAGE ATTACHED]

A gasp of shock left Peter’s mouth when he opened the last text to find a smirking Tony Stark looking right at him. To prove the time and date, Tony held up the New York Times, his free hand pointing to the headline Peter read on his phone earlier that morning. After the shock of actually talking to Tony Stark wore off, Peter let himself take in the picture and all of its details.

Tony’s desk was largely visible in the shot – pens and stacks of paper littered the surface, a few rogue pieces of tech ready to be fiddled with acted as paper weights and grungy aesthetic. The man himself was breath taking – his glasses were a deep violet, offset beautifully by the crisp white shirt and black waistcoat covering Tony’s upper body. A light purple tie was loosely knotted at his throat, as if he fiddled with it while working just to keep his hands busy.

Without much thought, Peter saved the photo and added Tony to his contacts before replying – there was no reason not to trust the man, the spark in his shiny hazel eyes seemed to genuine and real to even question.

Peter Parker [2:25PM]: Only Tony, got it. Peter Parker [2:26PM]: Curiosity is good – keeps you fresh and on your toes. Peter Parker [2:27PM]: Oh, I see. You want a chance to impress me. I like that. Not sure what my opinion is going to do for you, but I’ll be happy to share it. Peter Parker [2:29PM]: Gross. Peter Parker [2:30PM]: I’m – you’re… Wow. You really are Tony Stark.

Tony Stark [2:37PM]: I think you’ll have no problems keeping me on my toes, Peter. Tony Stark [2:38PM]: I have a feeling your opinion is one that I’ll be very interested in. You’ve been nothing but blunt this entire conversation, I know I’m getting the real deal stuff. Tony Stark [2:40PM]: I am. I really am Tony Stark. Tony Stark [2:41PM]: It’s your turn, Peter Parker. What face belongs to that beautiful brain of yours?

Forcing himself to breath, Peter looked around the room for the best spot to return the favor. The bed was a hard no, he didn’t want to send the wrong vibe to a person who could easily have whomever they wanted. His desk was small, but meticulously organized – his study materials open and ready for a night of reviewing the only thing obscuring the surface. It was obvious Tony appreciated his brain, it seemed pertinent to take advantage.

After a few attempts, Peter found the perfect angle to catch the light in his eyes, making them shine brightly in the camera. He thanked the clothing gods that he chose a well fitted three-button Henley in his haste to get out the door that morning. The feeling of satisfaction was new, but not unwelcome – he wanted to send Tony the photo; for once, he knew it would impress.

Peter Parker [2:55PM]: Keeping implies longevity. Are you planning on sticking around? Peter Parker [2:56PM]: My brain to mouth filter runs at less than 10% at all times. It has brought me more trouble than shutting up ever would. Peter Parker [2:27PM]: You’re gorgeous. Violet is a nice color on you. Peter Parker [2:29PM]: What do you think? [IMAGE ATTACHED]

Tony Stark [ 2:37PM]: Yes. I think that’s the answer to that question. You’ve presented a puzzle I want to solve. Tony Stark [2:38PM]: Shutting up never got anyone anywhere. The noise we create is what shapes us. Tony Stark [2:40PM]: Thank you – I have a lot of it in my wardrobe. Tony Stark [2:44PM]: & you called me gorgeous; Peter Parker, you’re a stunner.

Peter Parker [2:51PM]: You’re a scientist, you do that for a living. What makes me so different? Peter Parker [2:52PM]: That’s a refreshing opinion. I like the way you think, Only Tony. Peter Parker [2:54PM]: That honestly doesn’t surprise me. Peter Parker [2:55PM]: Do you tell the person who made you blush that you’re blushing? I don’t remember that standard operating procedure.

Tony Stark [3:01PM]: My intrigue is of a personal nature only – the puzzle you pose is of a different sort. Usually, I think and think and think until I solve whatever the problem is. With you, I want to gather all the clues and take it apart piece by piece. Tony Stark [3:02PM]: That’s a little heavy for only knowing each other a couple of hours, but when you know, you know. Tony Stark [3:03PM]: Not usually, but I have a feeling you’re an exception to a lot of things, Peter Parker.

Throughout the rest of the afternoon, Peter continued to exchange flirty text messages back and forth with Tony – the mood stayed open and easy as the time passed. The older man helped Peter get through Nuclear Dynamics and three hours of decathlon practice. For all the brains Tony had, Peter was surprised to find humor and a bit of insecurity, too. Tony let himself go on tangents and make dad jokes that were a step away from being obscene.

That trend continued for the rest of the week and well into the weekend. By the time Sunday afternoon rolled around, Peter knew Tony’s schedule, half the newest late-night discoveries, and the way Mr. Sweet Tooth took his sugary coffee. Though a line of attraction and want existed, Peter was happy to know Tony as a person without the ability to act on the obvious tension between them. And while he appreciated the wholistic way they were coming to know each other, Peter couldn’t wait to see Tony throughout the week, either.

The older man seemed to share his sentiment – the shrill notification of a text message received pulled Peter out of his thoughts.

Tony Stark [7:30PM]: Hey, Pete! I present at 5:30 tomorrow afternoon. Want to grab something to eat afterwards? Tony Stark [7:31PM]: I’m impatient to get back to Hogan’s and thought you might appreciate his culinary prowess.

Peter Parker [7:35PM]: Tony – this is the fourth time you’ve reminded me about your presentation. I’ll be there. For dinner, too. Peter Parker [7:36PM]: Culinary prowess; if it merits that title, I’m sure it’ll be worth it.

Tony Stark [7:42PM]: I know – I just get some performance anxiety. It helps to remind myself that you’re going to be there. Tony Stark [7:43PM]: It is. Hap is an old friend of mine. He left MIT to go make his restaurant dreams happen and has been stupidly happy ever since.

Peter Parker [7:47PM]: I get it – I’ll gladly be your security blanket, Tony. Peter Parker [7:48PM]: Something tells me there’s more to that story, but I’m sure you’ll tell me one day. I’m excited to try it. Should I look up the menu beforehand, or let it be a surprise?

Tony Stark [7:55PM]: I like the sound of that. I’ve pictured having you in my arms often. Tony Stark [7:57PM]: There’s always more to the story, Pete. Let it be a surprise! In fact, I’ll order for you to make sure you get the whole newbie experience.

Peter Parker [8:05PM]: I’ll boldly say you can have me in your arms as often as you like. Peter Parker [8:06PM]: The newbie experience – there hasn’t been a time in my life where that’s been a good thing. Peter Parker [8:07PM]: Yet. Surprisingly – I trust you.

The next day went by quickly – Peter took a quiz in Nuclear Science and dug into his other two classes to keep his mind focused on anything other than Tony’s imminent presence. His last class was a core history class, so he gladly tucked into the reading the professor let them loose to do. The chime of his alarm broke through Peter’s fog a couple pages from the end of his assignment. Though he liked to be ahead, Peter gladly took the extra few minutes to get himself together before heading to MIT’s presentation hall.

Decked out in his finest pair of black jeans, a blue denim short-sleeve button down, and solid black high-top Converse on his feet, Peter walked the few minutes it took to get back onto campus from his small apartment. Unsurprisingly, a line was formed out the door of students hoping to get into the presentation last minute. Tony told him earlier in the week that they waited to advertise his appearance until the a few hours before to stop the masses from flocking. To Peter, the time restriction seemed to only make it worse.

In Tony’s excitement to have Peter there, the older man set aside a ticket for him – instead of joining the line like he might’ve without Tony’s insistence, Peter walked straight into the cool auditorium, snagging a seat at the end of a row located dead center in the auditorium. The vantage point was perfect – Peter wouldn’t have any trouble catching Tony’s eye as he spoke. Grinning at his access to such a simple pleasure, Peter relaxed back into the seat, passing the time until Tony took the stage by watching the crowd flood in around him.

It wasn’t long before the lights were dimming and a sweaty, high ranking alumnus gave Tony Stark a mediocre welcome onto the stage. The crowd broke out into a cheer that more than made up for the old man’s subpar words. Tony timed his entrance perfectly; he walked out as the energy rose, the shift in the crowd’s tension working to enhance everyone’s excitement. Peter found himself glued to the man, who until that moment, existed entirely on the other side of the phone – he didn’t want to miss a single second of full-body absorption.

A black suit coat sat snuggly on Tony’s shoulders, a singular button keeping the sides closed. His dark hair was elegantly styled, the bed-head look enhancing the easy-going style Peter knew Tony strived for. The facial hair Peter came to truly appreciate over the last few days of texting drew attention to his sharp cheekbones. Tony seemed genuinely happy to be there if the beaming smile on his face said anything at all. With a few claps and the corniest joke, the older man got the crowd under control, proceeding onto his speech with an effortless transition.

As expected, Peter found himself interested from the very beginning. Tony’s new work on energy and its uses amongst transportation and city overhaul was ingenious – when things got up and running, New York’s power grid would run completely on sustainable energy. So many thoughts flashed across the front of Peter’s mind – he wondered if Tony would let him take a look at the blueprints. He might not have much to contribute, yet Peter understood the opportunity for learning and development when it presented itself.

By the end of Tony’s presentation, Peter was overjoyed to know that he wouldn’t need to feign interest in the topics Tony brought to the table. For a while, Stark Industries went through a slump of working on weapons and junky tech Peter found in the trash more often than he ever wanted to admit. It felt good to be excited about something new coming from the company – Tony Stark was the smartest person in his field, anything less than almost perfect just didn’t do the man and his ideas justice.

After fielding a lot more questions than Peter expected, Tony headed off the stage with a roar of applause – the genius wasn’t a household name for nothing. Smiling at the thought, Peter pulled his phone out; he got to see behind the curtain more than others – he felt a sudden surge of gratefulness at the fact. Every person around him would do anything for the privilege; taking that for granted just wouldn’t do.

Peter Parker [6:45PM]: You’re an incredible public speaker, Tony. Peter Parker [6:46PM]: Thanks for making me come!

Tony Stark [6:49PM]: How inappropriate of me is it to say that this isn’t the only time I plan to make you come?

Peter Parker [6:55PM]: Very, but it’s appreciated, nonetheless. I’ll meet you over by the Engineering building whenever you’re done trying to outrun your fans.

Tony Stark [7:00PM]: You’re fucking hilarious. I’ll meet you there in five.

True to his word, Tony snuck up behind Peter a few minutes later – soft palms that gave way to well-earned callouses pressed against Peter’s cheeks as Tony covered his eyes. The mere fact that Tony was there at all was surprise enough; the touches and softly whispered “Hello, Pete,” in his ear felt like more than enough to cause a coronary.

Shaking his head to clear it, Peter turned in Tony’s arms, a huge grin playing across his lips. With the way they were standing now, Peter’s chest was pressed delightfully against Tony’s – he felt each and every one of Tony’s inhales of oxygen and exhales of carbon dioxide that brought Peter’s attention to the firm muscles pressing and pulling the man’s abdomen. His breath caught when Tony palmed his cheek, their mouths mere inches apart. Despite not actually knowing each other, Peter felt comfortable in Tony’s embrace.

“Hey, Tony,” Peter finally replied after allowing his breath to mingle with Tony’s. As they stood there pressed together, neither could decipher where one started and the other began. The thought made his grin grow a little wider, the courage inside of him pulsing a little more boldly with life. “You were amazing up there.”

Tony remained perfectly still; his limbs seemingly frozen in a clench to keep Peter close to him. His grip was firm, both the hand on Peter’s hip and his late day stubbled cheek. Like the man himself, Tony’s touch left something behind that kept Peter on the hook, always seeking more. He half expected for Tony to lean in and slot their lips together – his deepest desires and tangible wants were starting to collide in such close proximity.

Instead, Peter’s smile was returned with quirked cheeks and bright hazel eyes. “You weren’t too bored?” Tony asked, his voice soft in the small space between them. His thumb swiped constantly across Peter’s cheek, the obvious need to move apparent, even in such an intimate situation.

Chuckling lightly, Peter shook his head. “So far from bored. My thesis research is all about sustainable energy – you had me interested from the very beginning,” Peter replied almost immediately, not caring that his excitement clearly shone through in the pitch of his voice. The way he was leaning into Tony’s touch, Peter didn’t have much of a chance to disguise his truth, anyway.

“You’re so much smarter than you give yourself credit for – I can tell already.” Tony’s words were mumbled almost as if the older man was embarrassed to say them – to hand out such a compliment to someone other than himself. And yet – Tony’s hesitation made the statement mean so much more; the rarity of such kind words (despite being spoken so softly) did nothing but make Peter want to melt into Tony even further.

Before things could get too mushy or physical, Peter took a large step out of Tony’s arms – begrudgingly, the need for space was prominent if they ever wanted the night to continue. Never mind the fact that paparazzi were constantly hounding and following Tony wherever the man went. Though he was deemed an appropriate companion at the time, Peter was more than sure the public would not agree.

With that thought in mind, Peter shot Tony a shy smile – “I’m pretty famished. Want to show me what Hogan’s is all about?”

They spent the ten-minute walk talking about the presentation – Tony grilled Peter about a few of the technical parts, while Peter drooled a little bit over the projected uses of Tony’s new energy storage and production. Like two nerdy peas in a pod, neither could help themselves – geeking out and talking about something they were both interested in made the rest of the world melt away. Peter might’ve kept on his tangent if it weren’t for a tall, thickly built man clearing his throat.

Looking up at the noise, Peter realized they’d walked a few blocks already and were standing in the lobby of a well-maintained hole in the wall that radiated the most delicious smells. Grease and cheese and freshly dropped French fries hit his senses all at once – there was no doubt that whatever they were about to consume would be more than delicious.

Peter was seconds away from wiping drool from his chin when Tony broke out into action. He took the couple of steps between their current position and the hostess stand to wrap who could only be Happy in a firm, breathtaking hug. “Happy, my man. It’s so good to see you,” Tony exclaimed as he stepped away, an adorable look in his eyes. “I’ve been talking this place up to Peter here, thought I’d cash in on your good will.”

Suddenly, all eyes were on Peter – Tony looked at him like something he couldn’t wait to deconstruct, while Happy tilted his head curiously, as if the one glance would tell him all he needed to know about Peter Parker. Unwillingly to stand there like an animal on display, Peter broke through the weird with a soft laugh and a light wave.

“Nice to meet you, Happy. Tony’s been selling me on your food for days now. I can’t wait to try it,” Peter said, his shoulders rolling back to help him stand a little taller. Though he had nothing to prove to the total stranger in front of him, Peter couldn’t help but want to make a good impression – Happy obviously meant something to Tony; their comradery and easy affection said that without much effort.

There was a moment where all three guys seemed to look between each other – Peter watched with bated breath as Tony and Happy carried on a silent conversation with just a few blinks and forehead crinkles. By the time Peter understood what was happening, Happy stepped a little closer to him, his big hand reaching out for what could only be a handshake. Without hesitating, Peter took it – for whatever reason, the handshake felt monumental; like with the one touch, he beat the level boss and gained access to the next one.

“Good to meet you, too. Tony’s good about that sort of advertisement – we probably wouldn’t have made it without his ugly mug around at the beginning,” Happy replied. “You guys know what you want? I’ll get it on the grill personally.”

At that point, Tony stepped back into the spotlight and grabbed the reins – he ordered everything at rapid fire speed, like the menu existed as a hard copy in Tony’s mind. Considering the warmth of the older man’s welcome and Happy’s cryptic words, Peter didn’t doubt that Tony was a regular – more than likely a founding customer, even.

It took no time at all for their food to come out to the small table in the corner Tony led him to. The tray was piled with an abundance of food – cheese steaks, fries, burgers, even a couple of desserts littered the table as Tony unpacked their haul. Peter’s eyes were wide, his mouth watering with a want that only Zap’s Bodega could illicit before. “This – it all looks amazing,” Peter babbled, his stomach both hungry and overwhelmed by everything in front of him.

“Just wait until you taste it. Happy used to crank out these cheesesteaks on the little hot plate we had in our dorm room. They were excellent, but the addition of the flattop has made them unbeatable.”

Unable to decide what smelled the best, Peter grabbed whatever was nearest to him. His fingers wrapped around the greasy paper of the aforementioned cheesesteak, his mouth watering even more. “So, you and Happy were roommates at MIT?” Peter asked around a large bite, the food in his mouth muffling some of the words. It really was good – worth looking like a pig in front of the most beautiful man alive.

“Hap and I go way back. His father worked security at Stark Industries – he was on my dad’s personal protection team for most of my life. When Happy’s mom died and the need for babysitting became a thing, Happy started to spend the evenings with me after school. In a lot of ways, he’s the only family I’ve ever had. When he first opened up this place, I was young and just looking for some investment that would piss my dad off. I knew Happy had talent, but neither of us thought this place would blow up the way it did.” Tony looked up then, a vulnerability in his eyes. “We’ve been in business together ever since.”

Smiling encouragingly, Peter nodded in Tony’s direction – their closeness, Tony’s unwavering advertisement and protectiveness, even some of the food names he could see on the menu; it all made sense. After taking another bite of the cheesesteak, Peter chewed slowly before responding. “There’s always more to the story, right?” he questioned cheekily. “It sounds like your gamble worked out for you – I didn’t look at the menu, but I did Google Hogan’s; there’s ten locations within a 300-mile radius.”

A snort had Peter looking up, his eyebrows quirked. “I should’ve known,” Tony said through a laugh. “Your generation is all about instant gratification.”

Their eyes locked then, Tony’s words and their meaning sitting in the space between them. Peter forced himself not to blink – he wanted to memorize the rich hazel color that barely ringed a growing pupil. Hunger and want and something unrecognizable existed in Tony’s glance; when it was all over and Tony moved on, Peter desperately wanted to remember the genuine rawness he drew out of one of the world’s greatest minds.

“Or just impatience,” Peter countered. He drew his eyes away, needing to break the glance to stop himself from propelling himself across the table and tackle Tony to the ground. Though it looked as if Happy kept the place spick and span, Peter didn’t want to think about Tony’s expensive suit on any other floor aside from his own.

They attempted to pull the small talk back to something a little tamer, but the road of the rest of the evening had already been paved. It became harder to focus on anything other than the thick press of Tony’s thigh against his own under the table. As the minutes passed, Peter noticed Tony staring, and after a while, the older man just never stopped. Every time he looked up, Peter caught hazel eyes taking him in – undressing him button by button with the sheer want in his eyes. A red blush took up permanent residence on Peter’s cheeks and neck, the color following him out of the restaurant and out onto the street where Tony took his hand without hesitation.

Before his mom passed away, Peter remembered a softly mumbled conversation laying across both his parents early, early in the morning. His dad’s big fingers were wrapped so neatly around his mother’s, the embrace tight, despite the hour. Peter reached out to touch the unbreakable seam, his eyes wide with wonder. “They fit,” Peter whispered softly, his finger running reverently over their joint fingers.

His mother pulled him close then, her lips finding that special place on his cheek. “One day, Petey, you’ll find that perfect person whose hands will fit yours just the way your father’s fit mine.”

A warmth settled in Peter’s chest as he slid his hand into Tony’s, their fingers interlacing perfectly with ease. The immaculate fit of Tony’s hand pressing against his own made him snuggle in further – whatever happened between them after this, Peter would forever know how easily he and Tony Stark fit together.

Giving Tony’s fingers a squeeze at the thought, Peter looked up, breaking the silence – “Do you want to see my apartment? I’m sure it’s not nearly as fancy as the hotel you’re staying at, but I’ve got Netflix and a really comfortable couch.”

Tony took a few long strides to answer, his face a little pensive. “I’d love to see your apartment, Pete,” Tony replied easily. They came to a stop at the crosswalk – Tony used his momentum to pull Peter close to his chest while they waited out the light. “I don’t care about fancy. You’ll be there.”

While Peter had lots of things to reply, his words were cut off by slightly chapped lips eagerly pressing against his own. It took Peter a second to recognize what in the glorious hell was happening – when the reality of the situation finally registered, Peter surged forward, tilting his head to not only return the kiss, but deepen it.

Both of Peter’s hands found their way around Tony’s neck to keep him close – he felt like he might pass out from the sheer goodness of Tony surrounding him without the grounding touch. He was far from a virgin, but none of his previous encounters knocked him off his feet in such a way that made Peter feel like a fumbling newbie.

Sipping from each other’s mouths, Peter was surprised by a strange and unrecognizable voice coming from behind them – “the light’s changed, fellas.”

It took an obscene amount of effort to pull away – though the stranger’s words made his face burn with embarrassment, Peter was reluctant to step out of Tony’s embrace and the tantalizing press of warm lips against his own. Regardless of his trepidation, Peter reluctantly moved back.

He made sure to slip his hand into Tony’s before they set off again.

“I’m just another couple of blocks away,” Peter reassured, a hungry smirk on his face. Tony returned the look, their stride all of the sudden lengthening. Their walk turned from a leisurely stroll to a brisk half-run. If it weren’t for the want raging through Peter’s veins, he might’ve found the change hilarious. In all of their time together, Tony never expressed impatience – he always seemed calm, cool, and collected. Yet, in the face of heat and need and the promise of bare skin, Tony let that mask drop.

Happy to know a new something about Tony, Peter reveled in the pent-up silence that carried them back to his apartment. Snagging a ground floor unit close to the entrance, they luckily didn’t have to wait for an elevator or awkwardly pretend that they weren’t about to push the other against the wall and start ravaging whatever pieces of skin they could find. Instead, Peter impatiently pulled Tony behind him as they walked between building 1 and 2 with eager steps.

After some fumbling and a set of dropped keys, Peter finally got his door open and Tony through it. Without missing a beat, Tony pushed him back against the newly closed front door, their lips harshly joining. Groaning at the contact and suddenness of it all, Peter pulled Tony in – any space left between them was unacceptable now that they were in a private space where wandering eyes and clicking cameras couldn’t see. Their obvious passion was too much for the public eye; Peter so desperately wanted to keep Tony to himself – devouring him in a safe space was only the first step.

As Tony traced his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, Peter fumbled his hands down the older man’s chest until he could pull the crisp button-down from well-tailored pants. The second he was able, Peter shoved his hands under the soft fabric, his palms greedily pressing into Tony’s hairy chest. A groan left his mouth – the chest hair under his fingers was soft and teasing. Peter was caught between the urge to tug at the strands and lay his head gently against them just to feel the texture against his skin.

Tony made the decision for him – large hands were suddenly on Peter’s waist, his feet coming up off the ground with little effort. Unable to keep his hands where they were, Peter broke the kiss with a groan and shifted until he could wrap his legs around Tony’s hips. Peter panted for breath while his lips were still free as Tony navigated through the room blindly. Another soft moan left Peter’s lips when his back hit the pliable leather of his couch.

Where just moments before they were standing chest to chest, Peter now had the full weight of Tony against him. The older man fit seamlessly between his splayed thighs, their hips lining up in a way that made Peter’s cock pulse against the confines of his tight jeans. With a bit of shifting, their groins were matched – Tony’s thick cock felt sinful against Peter’s. If his impending orgasm was already upon him, Peter wondered what it’d be like when their clothes hit the floor and he really got to taste what Tony had to offer.

Like he was reading his mind, Tony made quick work of the buttons on Peter’s shirt. Calloused hands dragged up and down Peter’s bare chest as he pushed the navy fabric to the side – his skin was practically hairless, the only exception being a small trail of it leading down to the v of his jeans. Tony let his fingers play through that small amount of hair, his fingers teasing as they got closer to the one spot that Peter wanted him to be the most.

Deciding to take his mind off of the heat in his belly and the closeness of his orgasm, Peter returned the favor. His hands were shaky as he passed button after button through their holes. With a gasp, Peter spread the sides of Tony’s shirt to get the maximum impact of the older man’s torso. He liked what he felt before, but the view was something else – Tony’s chest was chiseled and cut, his pecs and abs straining with effort. Peter noticed throbbing veins and a few scars in his perusal; the evidence of Tony’s life and the way he lived it made Peter pull the man a little closer. Tony Stark drove him absolutely mad – every new thing he learned contributed to the insanity even more.

Before he could get lost in the thought, Tony’s lips were skating along his cheek, only to stop and caress the outer shell of Peter’s ear. “You feel amazing, Pete,” Tony babbled, his tongue peeking out to join in on the fun. “I want to taste you, feel your cock pulse against my tongue. You’re so fucking hard and I can’t fucking wait. Is that okay?”

Peter pulled back then, a soft grin pulling at his lips. In all of his sexual encounters, Peter couldn’t recall someone caring about him so thoroughly, let alone stopping to ask how he felt. Both hands came up to grip Tony’s cheeks until the older man was looking right at him. Through the haze of arousal, Peter recognized that warm spark in Tony’s eye – it was the look in that first picture that kept Peter coming back for more.

“It’s perfect, Tony. I’ll take anything you want to give me,” Peter said breathlessly. He leaned up for a kiss to drive the words home.

Tony looked genuinely happy when Peter pulled away – his cheeks were flushed with obvious arousal, his lips quirked in a saucy smile. Without saying anything, Tony nodded his head and travelled slowly down the length of Peter’s body. Nimble fingers made quick work of the button and zipper of his jeans before Peter could think or even draw his next breath.

Sturdy hands didn’t hesitate to pull at the waistband of Peter’s boxers – his flushed cock was already leaking as it came to rest casually against the firm abs of Peter’s chest. Tony’s calloused fingers immediately wrapped around the length, giving a tight squeeze to the base. The sheer feeling of his crush’s hands on him was almost enough for Peter to jump straight over the edge. Catching Tony’s eyes and biting down on his bottom lip was his only saving grace – the knowing look in beautiful hazel eyes pulled a chuckle from Peter’s chest, the noise distraction enough.

“Okay?” Tony asked again, the words were spoken with his mouth hovering just inches from the pulsing flesh of Peter’s cock. He could feel Tony’s breath against his sensitive skin, everything about the situation making it hard to articulate or think or exist as anything other than a melted puddle of goo against broken-in leather.

Peter took a couple of deep breaths before nodding vigorously. He felt a red flush travel even further down his neck and torso, arousal and embarrassment mixing together to create the ultimate aphrodisiac. He finally found his voice, muttering a choked off “yes” before the motor function of speaking left him once more.

After a heartbeat and then another where neither man moved, Tony gripped the sharp bones of Peter’s hips, pushing his lower body down against the cushions. They shared another look as Tony lowered his head, his pink tongue poking out to lick lightly against the leaky head of Peter’s cock. Hazel eyes stayed on him – Tony continued to lap along his sensitive skin, all while killing Peter slowly with the heat and want reflecting back. By the time Tony had all of Peter in his mouth, Peter was seconds away from being undone.

It’d been so long, and he’d wanted Tony since he understood what attraction was. Being pinned down by the person he desired longer than some of his friendships did nothing but magnify everything that was happening. His skin felt like it was on fire under Tony’s touch – the suction around his cock felt like it was coming from all angles, everywhere, all at once. Unable to stop himself, Peter moaned, panted, and shamelessly shouted Tony’s name as the blissful seconds passed.

The telling zip of a zipper being pushed down, and Tony’s hasty shift told Peter that Tony was similarly affected. He picked up his head to watch Tony suck his cock down while his right hand moved at the same pace – while he took Peter’s cock into his throat, Tony was stroking his own erection with sure strokes. As if the heat around him wasn’t enough, the beautiful visual of Tony taking his own pleasure pushed him those last couple of steps over the edge.

Bubbling heat in his belly boiled over. Peter frantically reached down to grip Tony’s shoulder, his mouth wordlessly shaping around warning words. “I’m – I’m… fuck, Tony. I’m going to cum,” Peter finally managed to gasp out. There was just enough time for Tony to pull away, to let Peter’s pleasure splatter on the blood warm skin of Peter’s stomach. Yet, Tony held fast, instead – he redoubled his efforts, his lips tightening and throat relaxing in invitation.

Unable to stop himself, Peter let go – his hips thrust up into Tony’s enticing heat, the man’s name dripping from his lips as pulse after pulse of cum left his body. Tony moaned around him, swallowing easily without pulling his mouth away or stopping his ministrations. The suction continued until Peter was reaching down halfheartedly to push at Tony’s soft curls.

While he caught his breath, Tony crawled up Peter’s body, a self-satisfied smirk on his red cheeks. Peter grinned at him, happiness and satiation rolling off of him in waves. Without thought, Peter pulled Tony tightly to him, their lips finding each other like opposite poles of magnets drawn together by the sheer force of nature. Tony shared Peter’s taste with him, his talented tongue thrusting into Peter’s mouth with a shared groan between them. It was all so hot; Peter felt his spent cock already starting to come back to life.

With that thought in mind, Peter started to reach down to help Tony finish achieving his own pleasure; yet his hand was batted away with affectionate finesse. Peter shifted until he could meet the honey hazels he was already addicted to, a question in his eye.

“There’s no need,” Tony mumbled, his face tucking into the skin of Peter’s neck. “You’re so sexy, I couldn’t help but touch myself. The way you look in the throes of pleasure – it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.”

“Holy shit.”

Tony chuckled at the awe in Peter’s voice. “My sentiment exactly.”

For a while, they stayed stretched out on Peter’ couch, exchanging kisses and greedy touches on all the bare skin either could reach. Without so much adrenaline coursing through his system, Peter felt himself melting even further into the comfy cushions below him. After a jaw breaking yawn, Peter reached up to cup Tony’s cheek, pulling the man’s attention towards him.

“Want to stay over?” Peter asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. Though they were spent and wrapped up in each other, Peter wasn’t sure where Tony stood. There was a big difference between the type of intimacy physical touch and sleeping next to another human being required. The last few days, Peter fell asleep with Tony’s messages open on the bed next to him – actually sleeping side by side, in person, that was a whole new step for them.

Tilting his head to the side, Tony shot Peter a tender smile before nodding and leaning down to press their lips together.

“Yeah, Pete – I want to stay.”

[sanchoyo]

danny phantom season 2, eps 1-5 thoughts! opening the new season with episodes like these kinda blew me away. we had multiple serious episodes INCLUDING a two parter!! also, valerie :)

see prev episode thoughts in this tag <3

-I don't know what I expected s2 to open with. but danny portal incident in more detail was not it. (also, I hate to break it to you, sam, but danny's parent's bigass ghost hunting rv def chugs more gas than those vehicles, lmao. unless it runs on ectoplasm or something...)

-WHY WAS DESIREE IN THE SEWER? HAVING TEA WITH IT DOWN THERE?? Her making the giant cow come alive is a boss move, we've almost had all of my fav animals as ghosts now <3 I also don't like how sam was expecting danny to just, haunt the place so the cars wouldn't get sold? I KNOWWW I know she's 14 (and I had a very annoying phase like this, I think I mentioned in a previous post, I GET IT) but they're HIS powers, and messing with (1) dealership will not really put a dent in sales overall because they can just move the cars to another sales lot, and it certainly wont change the industry anyway, it's more of a minor annoyance for (1) location. Also, usually people who work at car sales places work on commission, so if they dont make a sale, they don't have money to pay bills, or eat. sam baby if u wanna be an activist you need to like, actually look into these things. with as much money as her parents have, she could be doing a lot..more useful things for causes she cares about? it's frustrating to see someone with resources who doesn't know how to use them. but shes 14 so again. cannot be really upset :/

-IS THIS A PREDATOR VS TERMINATOR VS FREDDY KRUEGER MOVIE BUT THEYRE ALL WOMEN?? you know, sam is so right to be excited about this. /I/ want to see this movie. that rules

-paulina inviting danny and friends to her quinceañera, aw! even if it is just to get phantom to show up :') and there'll be a meteor shower, and we KNOW danny wants to be an astronaut!! there's not a meteor shower every night!! the tickets are non-refundable, but..she's rich? like. gotta agree with danny, they never get invited!! I KNOW it's the principle of keeping promises, but if she was that upset, she should've said something. directly. I hated how she was like, passive aggressive about it through the episode, like you SAID IT WAS FINE, THAT YOU'D GO TO THE PARTY TOO. MOVIES SHOW FOR A FEW WEEKS IN THEATERS. IF YOU HAD A REAL PROBLEM YOU NEED TO TALK ABOUT IT. WE'VE HAD THIS PROBLEM BEFORE, SAM. YOUR FRIENDS. ARE NOT. MIND READERS.

-MR. LANCER GOING AFTER THE GHOST WITH THE FIRE EXTINGISHER LMAO

-this outfit is everything . anytime the show does an over the top cutesty pink outfit i WANT IT. it looks like shit I wear JKASDHF I HAVE a bow like that and a pink sweater. I need leg warmers </3

-SAMS GOTTA RE-HALF-KILL HIM??? thats fucked up. but also, he finally got his logo!! it took until s2!!! this episode was lowkey very fucked and I felt like it glossed over a lot. does sam have guilt about like. kinda KILLING HIM?? I know, he also agreed and walked into the portal. but. she made the choice to redo it SO quickly (even if it was because someone had to beat desiree) and danny, during their fight, brought up a lot of stuff sam's done in the past, meaning he was holding onto those memories and resentment was building. (I KEEP SAYING HE LOWKEY NEEDS THERAPY, BUT I THINK MOST EVERYONE IN THIS SHOW KINDA DOES) which...is a red flag? and then they didnt even GO to the party URGH I know she tried to make up for it, but it really felt like Sam fucked up and barely faced any consequences and got everything she wanted in the end. I KNOW it's a kids show obv they aren't going to go too in depth, and she undid the damage, kinda, but...I DUNNO how to articulate it but it rubbed me the wrong way.

-but on a note about desiree, her powers of wishes were STRONG ENOUGH TO ERASE NOT JUST THEIR MEMORIES, BUT DANNY'S POWERS?! fuck, if I was danny I'd be like, trying to make friends with her. I know they always have horrible side effects as most genie-granted wishes do, but...c'mon, I'd at least TRY to be like 'I wish no ghosts would hurt anyone in my town' or 'I wish vlad would lose his ghost powers forever no matter What and also forget about my mom' LIKE. SHIT DESIREE IS SO POWERFUL. rewriting reality powerful, basically!! appreciate her. respect her.

-aww, sam helping tucker pass the nurse's office so he wouldn't see because he's afraid of medical stuff? very sweet. I also don't like medical stuff, I've gotten a lot better at handling it tho. but seeing blood and needles still makes me feel lightheaded x_x

-FOLEY, BY TUCKER FOLEY. I want to make my own perfume, that's so cool. even if his first attempt isn't good, he's pretty consistently shown to have an inventor/entrepreneur streak in the show, so like. I can see him inventing or making something (or several somethings) that make him $$$ when he grows up :) proud of my creative son

-I know the 'creepy abandoned hospital on the edge of town' is a joke and the creepy hospital trope is so Worn Out, but in my town we actually DO have a hospital like that! my dad was born in it, but its not in use and hasn't been for, like, 20 years! it needs to be torn down but I think the city doesn't wanna pay the money. the inside is horrible, spray painted and broken glass and shit everywhere. but there's still like, rusty equipment and fucking DOLLS all over the place. the cops drive by it pretty frequently to make sure no one is like, breaking in. (because of water damage, some of the areas really aren't safe. also, asbestos, but people still go in anyway) but also, some of my town was used in a filming for a stephen king show. So it's lowkey spooky all over. just a fun personal tidbit :) to lead into saying, any hospital abandoned for any period of time is NOT safe to quarantine these kids in JKSAHDKF like I KNOW it's a ghost trying to do this, but NONE of these parents are even like, 'well, why dont we keep them in the regular, working hospital'....YIKES. this hospital looks pretty accurate to the one in town. grungy and spooky.

-fentons are tax evaders confirmed by jack's fear of being audited, lol no one is surprised

-ghost sickness via ghost bugs. horrifying concept. I actually expected it to be a new villain, not dr. spectra again! this is a very elaborate scheme. her new form rules, love the new costume. the way none of the bg kids seem to recognize her as their old school councilor. did we just forget about that completely?

-dash watching romance movies in the fucked up ghost hospital. same.

-'oh please, you're ghosts, do you have any idea what YOU smell like?' no, tucker, what DO ghosts smell like? I genuinely didn't know they would even have a smell, I actually want to know now.

-it feels like a while since we've seen jazz!! i was happy to see her again, even if she was a head in a jar for most the episode. I want another jazz-focused ep!!

-we finally see danny doing space-related stuff!! him and his friends stargazing to open ep 3 of s2. cute :) until, GHOST PIRATES!!!!! ...ghost pirate captain is a small child?? VOICED BY TAYLOR LAUTNER???

-oh, the easy listening is ember's song instrumental slowed. 'vapor drone' THEY VAPORWAVED HER!!! ember in a pirate outfit tho >>>>. and the cruise being called m.bersback JKASDHJK. ember adopting a little pirate brother is also pretty cute. concerning this teen and little kid have such bad opinions of adults, like, who hurt you?? (how did you DIE ALSO?? im always lowkey curious about that. we know desiree died at an old age, but her ghost form is young, probably mid-20s, so I wonder how that sort of thing works...its a more mental thing, isn't it?) but ghost team-ups are always cool to see, even if ember bailed after danny took her guitar. I guess she probably thinks youngblood can handle it (which, he's been owning danny this far in the ep, so...fair)

-tucker got that sponsorship from nasty burger for their radio!!! again, opportunistic money maker king, love to see it!!!

-danny taking control of the kids SO FAST. he makes a pretty great leader. no one is surprised, im pretty sure I said I think he's the most mature of the trio, once again, correct, because he's taken on so much responsibility already. all the teens suiting up in the jumpsuits to go save the adults and taking the ship over with a BLIMP. OKAY LETS GO. this feels like it should be a mid finale or straight up finale.

-...speaking of finales. why is ep 4-5 of s2 combined into a 50 minute episode? I havent even clicked play and im concerned. weird placement, like, this season JUST started and we're getting a two parter? okay...why are the episodes placed like this? why not put this at episode 10 or something, for a mid-season thing?

-this is also a cute dress. possibly my fav dress so far. can her parents give ME cute dresses, I'LL wear them.

-it turns out the castle fright knight was in is called pariah's keep and there's something worse than fright knight in there! lovely! fuck off vlad wtf are you doing <3 your hubris <3 is going to literally get you killed <3 'ring of rage' and 'crown of fire' are great names tho. ...vlad turning into a super polite guy when he was scared of mr. pariah was hilarious. and fright knight doing the same...I mean, it makes sense, he's a knight, he serves a king? happy to see fright knight again either way :) vlad telling him to call him tho, lmfao. you WISH HE WOULD. (I wish hed call me, too. 😔)

-so...jack being genuinely concerned about vlad...maddie really didn't tell him what happened at the cabin, did she. damn. if I was her id immediately come home and be like 'YOU WONT BELIEVE THIS SHITTTT THIS CREEPY GUY--' like, I feel like that stuff you need to tell your partner!!! I know she didnt want Jack to think she was an irresponsible parent putting danny in danger at that time, but STILLLL. maddie spilling boiling tea on him. get his ass. how is jack this oblivious to his wife's discomfort with vlad!! ughhh

-fenton wipe (tm). trademarked toilet paper.

-DANNY AND VALERIE BEING FRIENDS??? :D that was a cute moment. 'hey val <3' and 'if you like him like him, make a move, or someone else will ;)' at sam...damn!! I love her. valerie go for it girl!!! I hate how sam and tucker treat val also, like I GET IT YOURE PROTECTIVE AND DONT TRUST but if anything him befriending valerie will help when she finds out or he tells her like I feel like she'll be more understanding that they think! ALSO I feel like her reason for not liking ghosts is valid, like you haven't really explained the full story to her anyway! she doesn't seem to have any other friends after being booted from the a-listers so im like :( but seeing them kick butt together again was nice <3

-the ghosts all RUNNING FROM PARIAH DARK IS NOT GOOD, I thought he sent them to attack or something, but no. why doesn't someone just tell desiree 'hey i wish pariah dark would die' lol. once again I think she can solve every problem <3 but seeing all the enemies in one place, being civil and hiding together? love it.

-you just know danny's gonna have to clean up vlad's stupid mess. also, jack being willing to put on the ectoskeleton pants to help maddie, as soon as vlad heard it could kill him, he suggested jack do it instead of helping maddie himself? this is why jack got the girl, my man.

-ghost skeletons. how do you end up as a skeleton ghost in your afterlife instead of a humanoid like most the ones we've seen? lmao

-the ghosts just making new homes in various stores. I'd totally be setting up in an expensive clothing store if I was a ghost.

-valerie's dad is possibly the most useful adult so far, with that ghost shield expansion!!! and valerie saving vlad and danny, even tho shes been thru it already, shes still so good!!! this family rules.

-danny: *gently caresses valerie* :)

-*then he immediately TELLS HER DAD ON HER. and his first response is 'are you okay?' :'( such a good dad...

-*me every time fright knight breathes* youre doing SO great sweetie :)

-the fenton suit thing is so silly looking. does anyone take this thing seriously

-ALL THE GHOSTS FIGHTING WITH DANNY <3 AAAAA. and the fact that pariah isn't perma-defeated, but just locked away again. yikes. he'll probably get out again, won't he? it wasn't too clear, but if vlad DID make a pact with fright knight, I am rabid. I will beat vlad to death with the fenton bat (tm). YOU DONT DESERVE A COOL KNIGHT.

-valerie being direct with sam and challenging her? kinda love that, even tho I normally don't like 'catfight' type situations. because sam has been very passive aggressive about it which is annoying. valerie knows wtf she wants and wasn't even embarrassed to tell sam, but she did tell her, giving sam time to make her own move! and sam denied it and got embarrassed/mad! and sam did have a chance when danny was about to go off and fight, and she hesitated and didn't tell him. I feel like she's hesitating because they're friends and it might make it weird between the trio (poor tucker would be third-wheeling) but if u snooze u lose, u gotta GO after what u WANT girl. smh this is a No Tsundere Zone. 😤

[houndsofcerberus]

Apotheosis Chapter 2

Summary: Techno and Theseus arrive to Nimius though the arrival is met with…mixed reviews

No CWs

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33386038/chapters/83133148

The rhythmic clopping of the horse’s hooves and the rolling of the cart wheels had become monotonous and boring by the time they finally reached their destination. The only change from the expanse of identical trees was when they had neared. Nimius was large but it’s capital, settled near it’s southernmost border, was a sight to behold. Nimius was known for its abundance, having been named for its wealth. This of course brought with it lavish lifestyle, but this wasn’t unanimous across the kingdom. The country had many smaller villages and hamlets, a great deal of the Nimian population was in fact farmers and ranchers. The land Nimius occupied was some of the best across the continent for farming, the soil was rich and fertile and the conditions were mild enough and the growing season long enough to have made Nimius an agricultural giant amongst the land.

Technoblade was of the opinion that no description could do the feeling of walking into the Nimian capital justice however. No story, nor poem, nor song could ever compare to the feeling of walking in. The royal family’s crest depicted a peacock, bright and fierce, and proud as all hell, signifying the wealth of the region. The crest was frequent in the city however it was more apparent around the castle. They were a proud people who showed their wealth happily. Techno hadn’t been in Nimius for quite some time, though as the cart rolled into the city it appeared not much had changed. The streets were well kept, clean and had planter boxes lining the cobbled streets, the stones were smooth and the buildings light in color. White and teal were everywhere, along with dull orange terracotta and faux gold shimmer. Murals decorated the walls of several buildings, well kept up and beautifully bright. It was like walking into a painting. Theseus was leaning forward, looking around, eyes wide as he took in the market smelling strongly of fresh bread and other delicious smells from the vendors in the street. People walked idly, moving out of the way of Techno’s cart and looking in curiously. Some frowned and watched Techno, though he didn’t blame them. He had accumulated many many battle scars from his adventures, and several were laid into his face, leaving him looking… rough to say the least. He pressed on, ignoring them and driving the horses to the castle ahead.

It was an architectural masterpiece, within its large gates it was covered in ivy and tile mosaics of trees, peacocks, and farmland. The things that made Nimius what it was. It was beauty and luxury in its purest form, abundance at its most bare and most extravagant. Technoblade had missed Nimius.

“Woah!” Theseus gasped, leaning so far forward Techno needed to grab his shirt and pull him back into the seat. “What are those?” he asked excitedly, pointing at a blue bird amongst several others, it’s tail long as it trailed behind the bird, folded. The feather’s were iridescent and there was a small crest on its head.

“That's a peacock, the monarch has an affinity for them,” Techno said fondly. As his dog passed the bird, clearing the path for the horses, several of the peacocks shook out their tails and Theseus’ eyes went wide once more.

“It’s got so many eyes!” he said, looking at Technoblade in wonder.

“It’s just a pattern, they use it to scare off anything trying to eat them.” Techno said, smiling lightly.

“They’re so pretty,”

“Very, but you can’t pet these ones, they aren’t nice. There’s one inside you could pet though.” Techno said. Theseus nodded excitedly as Techno stopped the cart in front of the castle, looking over each of the guards. As much as he loved it here he couldn’t be too comfortable so he kept his sword on him and stepped off, whistling to the dog and gesturing with a nod of the head to the cart. She jumped up and settled in the back as Theseus scrambled down off the cart, running to catch up. A young man had come out and paused in front of them as they both waited for Theseus.

“Eret is waiting for you inside. Just f-” The young man was cut off by another who had approached, staring at the sword.

“No weapons.” He said gruffly.

“I’m not stupid enough to kill a seer, let alone a monarch. Let me in.” Techno said flatly.

“No. Put the sword in your cart. And that whip too.” The man said stepping in front of Techno, arms crossed. He had a mask over the top of his face but Techno was close enough to see his bright green eyes and furrowed brows.

“And if I don’t?” Techno asked, smiling lazily.

“You don’t wanna find out.” came the reply as he went to draw his sword. Techno copied the move, hand on the hilt of his sword. Theseus grabbed onto Techno’s pant leg, and Techno chanced a quick look, seeing briefly the fear on his face. When his eye darted back up the man had relaxed slightly, eyes focused on the child for a moment before looking back at Techno and glaring twice as hard.

“Boys quit it,” came a new voice, familiar to Techno’s ears. Techno grinned and let go of his sword to smile innocently at Eret descending the stairs to the castle doors, accompanied by a woman a bit younger than Technoblade. Eret was… well Eret. Well dressed in beautiful clothes, somehow looking well dressed and casual at the same time, putting Techno’s outfit of his usual cape, shirt, pants and other gear to shame despite sharing the same style. She smiled and approached, shaking his head playfully.

“What? I was just playing around,” Techno said, laughing easily and relaxing. He bowed to them, head down in a show of respect before standing.

“You’re a bad liar. Come on, we have a lot to discuss with Puffy here, she’s my general that I told you about.” Eret said, gesturing for Techno and Theseus to follow.

“But my liege, he has weapons on him!” The man Techno had just confronted spoke up, looking panicked.

“As he always does. Sam it’s alright, this man has saved my life more times than I can count. If he wanted me dead he would’ve done so long ago. He’s as harmless as a pup.” Eret laughed, shaking their head. The man, Sam, stood there bewildered for a moment as Techno walked by, followed by Theseus who stuck his tongue out at the guard. They walked in through the large doors into a beautiful castle. Polished wood and marble was everywhere, large murals and tapestries of the gods and of old tales lining the entry hall beautifully. Techno felt out of place, dirty grungy clothing, scarred and unpolished, unrefined. Eret led them further, past the large throne room and into a further hall. Puffy opened a door, revealing a round, average sized table, six chairs around it, a teapot and snacks upon it. Eret took their spot and Puffy chose one nearby, Techno opting for one across from Eret, and Theseus clamoring up onto the chair beside Techno.

“You never told me you had a kid,” Eret said, smiling and placing a few sweets in front of Theseus.

“Sorry, I didn’t have much time, I came as soon as I got the letter,” Techno said.

“No no, it’s alright, he’s quite adorable. What’s his name?” Eret asked, smiling at Theseus who was currently enjoying a cookie that Eret had given him.

“Theseus,” Techno replied.

“I go by Tommy.” Theseus interjected, staring at Techno.

“You never mentioned that before.” Techno sighed.

“You didn’t ask.” came the reply. Puffy snorted and covered her mouth, trying to hide her smile. Techno took the moment to take her in. Her uniform was well kept, a deep indigo blue with gold accents. She had very long curly white hair, though it didn’t age her. She looked young, or at least seemed to be younger than Technoblade, though that wasn’t saying much. She had a scar, faint and light, stretching from her jaw to just under her eye. He couldn't decipher what from by the look of it, though it had obviously been taken care of considering it was so light.

“What’s wrong with your eyes?” Theseus interrupted Techno’s thoughts, loud and abrupt.

“Theseus!” Techno scolded, staring at him in disbelief.

“What?”

“You can’t say that!”

“Why not?” Theseus asked, crossing his arms. Techno sighed, frustrated.

“I’m so sorry,” He apologized.

“It’s alright, kids are kids, I take no offence.” Eret said. Their eyes which had previously been a bright and vibrant brown had slowly dulled over the years, as though there was a white film over them. Techno hadn’t mentioned it, he had only ever known Eret with the vague film on their eyes. She was a seer, it was a natural part of having Sight. “I have a gift. I can see the gods,” Eret said smiling and looking at Theseus patiently.

“Woah, that’s so cool! I wanna see the gods!”

“Well it’s not all good Tommy. My eyes look like this because it makes it so you can’t see after a while, it makes your eyes turn white and soon you can’t see anything.” Eret explained. Theseus frowned and tilted his head.

“So you’re blind?”

“Not yet. I’ve got some years ahead of me, I plan to enjoy them as much as I can.” Eret said, eyes darting to Techno who laughed.

“You did enough living for twelve lives back in the days.” Techno smiled fondly upon the memories of their journeys together.

“Never enough Blade, never enough,” Eret said, sighing happily at their own memories of the time. “We’ll need to reminisce some other time unfortunately. You’re aware of why I requested your help?”

“Yes, the letter told me all I needed to know.” Techno said, nodding curtly, smile fading.

“Lovely. As capable as our wonderful General here is, we'll need the help. They’ve been making bold moves. We need to be bolder.”

“Are you sure?” Puffy interjected.

“You have no ideas left either. We need him.”

“No, not that. Him. Are you sure about him? I did my research, I know what he sees as ‘bold moves’.” Puffy said firmly, glaring at Techno. Just when he thought he may be able to escape mistakes of the past, here they were yet again coming to bite him in the ass.

“Can we not discuss that? Not right now? I’d rather not defend those actions in front of a child.” Techno said sharply. Puffy looked between Technoblade and Theseus before nodding. “We’ll finish this later.” Techno added. “For now I need your files and information about it. As well as anything relevant to the situation, including border declarations. Anything Nimius and Ecren have both signed.”

“Of course. I have an office for you in the south wing and your room is ready. We can give Tommy a tour of the castle maybe and have some dinner, by then I’ll have a room for him beside yours.” Eret said, pouring herself a cup of tea, and then pouring one for Technoblade. “Puffy, can I ask you to gather the necessary documents while I catch up with my friend?” He asked kindly. Puffy nodded and gave a brief informal bow before leaving the room. “Maybe Tommy would like to go find Calypso in his garden,” Eret said, smiling.

“Who’s Calypso?” Theseus asked,

“You remember I mentioned there’s a peacock you can pet inside the castle? That’s Calypso. He’s a sweetheart, and has his own garden.” Techno said, smiling. Theseus grinned, turning to Eret and nodding quickly.

“Alright, give me a moment,” Eret said, standing and walking to the door. Eret smiled and gestured to someone. “Skeppy, are you on your way by Calypso’s garden?” She called.

“Yeah, gonna go visit Bad in the kitchens, see if he needs help.” came the reply, presumably from Skeppy.

“Lovely, we have a guest, come here,”

Skeppy stepped in, smiling and waving at Techno and Theseus.

“Can you show Theseus here how to get to the garden? He’d like to meet Calypso, maybe swing by and steal an extra treat for him when you go pester Bad hm?”

“I wasn’t gonna steal anything, just… taste test,” Skeppy argued.

“Uh huh. Grab him an extra bite,”

Theseus looked to Techno for permission to go this time. After the last time he went off away from Technoblade he didn’t seem keen to repeat the situation. Techno nodded and gestured to Skeppy.

“Go, I’ll come get you in a bit, kid,” He said reassuringly. Theseus ran off with Skeppy, following him into the hall excitedly chatting with Skeppy. Eret sat and they both waited until they could no longer hear them.

“So… you’re a dad.” Eret said, leaning back with their teacup in hand. “That's… unexpected for you.”

“Yeah. I didn’t plan to be.”

“Past few years must’ve been quite the learning curve for you then huh?” Eret chuckled. Techno froze, not looking his friend in the eyes.

“Well… I wasn’t around.” Techno admitted. “His mom had to track me down to tell me. And we had an agreement.”

“You didn’t…” Eret said.

“I didn’t abandon them… entirely.” Techno said, trying to defend himself. “She knew what kind of guy I was, she knew about them. I told her when she said she was pregnant. She agreed it wasn’t a good idea, but she couldn’t work with a child and no husband so… I’ve been sending her money over the years. Bought them a nice home, money for food and clothes, a repairman, and extra for savings. I made sure she could give him a good life. I swear I wouldn’t just leave, I just…”

“So why is he with you now then?” Eret asked.

“She passed. A few days ago actually. She wrote to me and had the message passed along urgently and when I got there it was bad. She told me to take him and take care of him. I figured I owe her that, but I… have no clue how to do this.” Techno sighed, shrugging and leaning back. He didn’t dare look at Eret, he didn’t want to see their look of disappointment.

“Gods above Technoblade, what a fine mess you’ve made for yourself. We’re a nation at war, why’d you bring him?”

“The other jobs were too dangerous. Tracking down criminals, on the front lines for weeks, assassination, murder, this was the safest. He doesn’t have to be involved in the war, he can stay and if we must evacuate he can go with. This war won’t be fast, Ecren is not going to give in, it’s more stable.”

“What makes you say that?” Eret asked. Techno sighed and reached into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper and standing, leaning over the table to hand it to Eret. Eret took it and unfolded the paper. “They requested you as well?”

“Yeah. Offered me the position of General.”

“You didn’t take it. Why?” Eret said, frowning skeptically, eyes trained on Technoblade’s sword.

“I’d be on the frontlines, the pay was worse, it came after yours, and you’re one of my oldest friends. I’m a lot of things, but I am not a liar and I don’t go back on my promises. I told you I’d come back if you ever needed help. I’m here. I have no obligations in Ecren or interest in helping them. This was my home for a while too, I’m going to defend it.” Techno said.

“You never change. It’s nice to have you on the team, old friend,” Eret said, smiling and folding the piece of paper, tossing it back on the table and relaxing. “Like the old days.”

“Like the old days.” Techno agreed

Techno found Theseus in the garden, sitting amongst the beautiful abundance of foliage and flowers, Calypso sitting in his lap fast asleep. It was kind of sweet, Theseus was gently petting the bird, making sure not to wake him, looking around at all the butterflies fluttering above them from flower to flower. The garden was vibrant, it was as though you stepped into a forest, and though it was a bit warm it was comfortable. Theseus seemed at peace there. Techno walked over and sat on the bench near Theseus’ spot on the ground.

“Where’d the name Tommy come from?” He asked quietly, being careful not to startle the bird or the child.

“My mom. She always called me Tommy instead.” He replied in a whisper, transfixed on the bird in his lap. He seemed enamored with Calypso, fascinated endlessly by the brightly colored and well kept feathers. Enough so that he had finally stopped moving and talking for the first time since Techno had met him. He was a lively kid, probably even more so before his mother passed. He hadn’t been sleeping well, crying himself to sleep in the wagon, waking from nightmares. On the worst days when it seemed he truly realized he was never seeing his mother again he had refused to eat, and sat silently in the wagon. Technoblade was not someone experienced in grief, and he hadn’t had even the mildest clue on how to comfort a child who had just lost his primary caregiver, that was never easy, especially not after watching her suffer for weeks on end before dying. Techno hadn’t spoken with him much about it, unsure of how to approach that topic with an adult, let alone a child.

“Do you want me to call you Tommy instead?” Techno asked softly, voice still low to not wake the bird.

“No,” Theseus said flatly, shaking his head. Techno froze, and stared for a moment waiting for him to elaborate. No explanation came. He just left it there. Technoblade decided that it wasn’t meant to be rude, even if it sure did feel like something he should chastise him for. It wasn’t as though it was a big deal, it was just a name. Theseus had the right to say what he wanted to be called.

“...alright” Techno said after a solid minute of silence from both parties. “Dinner’s almost ready, we should head to the dining hall,” he added, gently patting him on the shoulder as he stood to get him to stand up as well.

“I don’t wanna go.” Theseus said. Techno took a moment and decided his curiosity took precedence over his ego bruising from the fact Theseus just outright refused,

“Why not?” He asked, crouching down. Theseus looked away, refusing eye contact. He looked conflicted and uncomfortable, but Techno just waited until he was ready.

“What if it’s bad? Mom always made good food, what if this is bad? And it's so big in there, the roof is so high, and everything echoes and it’s just too much. I don’t like it.” Theseus said, grimacing and glancing at the door back in. “I miss home.” He added more quietly. Techno stood and thought for a moment.

“Come with me,” He said, standing and holding out his hand. Theseus looked at Calypso and hesitated before gently picking him up and scooting him off his lap, standing and brushing the dirt off his pants.

“We’re going anyway?” Theseus asked, frowning.

“Nah, I hate the dining hall anyways, but you can’t just not eat kid. I’m taking you to the kitchens. Did you like Skeppy?”

“Yeah! He’s really funny, he told me about you!”

“...what’d he tell you?”

“That you sucked at the games he played with you!” Theseus said happily, smiling as he looked ahead.

“...huh… well I’ll have to get a rematch then. We can have dinner with Skeppy and the cook, Bad, in the kitchen instead, it’s much nicer there, not as fancy,” Techno said, taking Theseus’ hand and leading him inside, instead of going through the large extravagant halls he took a detour into a smaller homier feeling hallway. It was lined with pictures of the staff and their families, and of Eret and his parents, all the goofy pictures they wouldn’t be able to present in the front halls for guests to see. Techno looked at a few of them and got oriented to where they were. He had always preferred going through the staff halls anyways. The main halls were designed to be long, extravagant and force you to take in the wealth and lavish castle. The staff halls were shortcuts, small and much easier to navigate due to the fact that they didn’t look the same and had labels on all the doors so nobody got lost. Techno finally found the door labelled ‘Kitchen’ and pushed it open.

Beyond the door was a nice looking kitchen. It wasn’t fancy or covered in white and gold. It had a large wood stove that was next to an oven, as well as another separate brick oven in the wall. The brick oven was unlit and cold, and the wood stove looked as though it had just turned off. There were large windows that were wide open, letting in a cool breeze, and plenty of countertops littered in plates and dishes. The room was bigger than a normal home’s kitchen and much better equipped, even having a cooler to store food and a meat locker door off to the side, but half of it was occupied by a large oak table and chairs, a tablecloth spread over top. In the centre of the table was a vase with freshly cut flowers, and beside it was a basket of bread rolls. In the kitchen was a familiar face, Bad. Though Bad seemed occupied trying to get Skeppy to stop trying to eat the food before it was out on the tables.

“Skeppy, quit it!” Bad yelled, exasperated.

“Awe come on, I’m just testing it!” Skeppy laughed as he was chased away from the stock pot.

“You’re being a pest is what you’re doing,” Bad huffed, shaking his head and turning to smile. “You finally came back!” He cheered, smiling at Techno. “You come to visit or to steal food like someone else here,” Bad asked, glaring pointedly at Skeppy who had started creeping towards the other basket of bread rolls for the dining hall.

“But I’m huuuuuungryyyy” Skeppy whined. Techno laughed and grabbed a bread roll from the basket on the table, chucking it to Skeppy to occupy him for a while.

“Actually I came to see if me and the kid could eat with you and Skeppy tonight,” Techno said, smiling and gesturing at Theseus. Bad gasped and leaned over the counter to look at the kid, grinning brightly.

“Of course! Skeppy mentioned we had a little guest! I thought he was lying for an extra lemon tart,” Bad said, smiling.

“I told you he wash real,” Skeppy said triumphantly through a mouthful of bread, smiling smugly as he took another bite of the bread roll proudly.

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” Bad said, brushing him off with an eye roll and a dismissive wave. “I’ll let Eret know when we send out the food, they may join us but I doubt Sam and Puffy will let him out of sight while they have a chance to discuss things.”

“Speaking of what’s the deal with those two?” Techno asked, leaning forward against the counter.

“Ah not much, Sam is the newer one of the two, he takes his job very seriously, and Puffy is normally a lot more calm but everything going on has been stressing her out. This’ll be her first conflict as General, she’s been in the military for a long time but this time she’ll be calling the shots on the field so she’s just trying to be careful,” Bad said shrugging. “Nice folks, heart in the right place but you caught ‘em at a bad time. Why are you here now?”

“Same reason. Eret asked me to come as a strategist.” Techno said. “War needs experience, I guess that’s why she asked me to come.”

“What’s war? You guys keep talking about it and I don’t know what it means.” Theseus asked abruptly. Bad looked as though he had frozen to the spot and Skeppy was trying not to laugh at him but Techno just turned and looked at Theseus unbothered.

“Y’know how there are countries? Well sometimes they get into fights with lots of people on both sides. That's war.” Techno said flatly. Bad gave him an incredulous look and when Techno made eye contact he shrugged. There was no point in lying. This would be the kid’s life for a while.

“Oh. When will it be over?” Theseus asked, frowning. “It seems like a lotta work.

“I don’t know, kid, probably not for a few years.” Technoblade replied, shrugging.

“That’s a long time. I want it over now,”

“Me too, tell you what though, you and I get to live here with Skeppy and Eret and Bad until it’s over, so that doesn’t seem too bad right?” Techno asked, smiling ever so slightly and ruffling Theseus’ blond hair gently.

“I guess not,”

Dinner had gone well, Theseus ate all his food for the first time in ages, even telling Technoblade as they left the kitchen that it was “almost as good as mom’s” which seemed to be high praise for him. Techno was just glad he ate all of it. They had talked with Skeppy and Bad easily, and despite Eret not being able to join them it was a good time. Afterwards Techno had gone to the stables, Theseus trailing behind him. Someone had put away his horses and his dog wasn’t too far off from them. Techno checked what they had to eat and drink and after deciding it was good enough he grabbed his brushes from the wagon behind the stable. He would bring his books and Theseus’ things up to their rooms when they went back in. Theseus stood just inside the stable door, watching Technoblade brush the larger of the two horses meticulously.

“Why didn’t you name them?” Theseus asked, echoing his question from days earlier.

“I just didn’t.”

“Can I name them?” Theseus asked. Techno made the mistake of looking at Theseus, whose eyes were large and watery as he silently begged. Not even he could last against that look.

“...fine.” Techno conceded, sighing and shaking his head.

“Yay! This one is gonna be.... Andrew!” Theseus proclaimed proudly, looking chuffed with himself.

“That’s a good one,” Techno said, chuckling slightly.

“And the other one is gonna be Carl!” Theseus added. “Oh and the doggie! Can I name her? Pretty please?”

“Might as well,”

“Clementine!” Theseus cheered happily. The dog, who had previously been laying calmly, watching Techno and Theseus from outside the stall stood at that, walking over and wagging her tail at Theseus.

“Well she seems to like it. Nice job kid,” Techno said, smiling fondly. He continued brushing the newly named Andrew and Carl, meticulously picking out their feet and checking for any rocks before he finally let them be. Clementine, also pleased with the new moniker curled up in Carl’s stall, and Techno pulled out some dried meat from the wagon, promising he’d take her hunting the next day for some game. He knew she couldn’t understand but it gave him peace of mind at least.

He took Theseus to the wagon and grabbed his large box of books and other important trinkets within, buried under the pages, and helped Theseus grab his few things. The child frowned as he looked for something, not finding it.

“What’re you missin’?” Techno asked.

“My teddy bear, mom gave it to me, I had it hidden in my bag!” Theseus said, looking distressed.

“You think you forgot it at home?” Techno asked, frowning. His frown deepened when Theseus nodded, tears welling up in his eyes. “Hey, hey it’s okay kid.” he rushed, trying to think about what one of his friends would’ve said. Squid had always been better with kids, so he tried to think of what he would say. “Your teddy bear is.... Protecting your house?” He suggested. Theseus paused and sniffed, nodding slowly. It seemed to work. “He has to look after it cause you’re not there anymore.”

“...okay,” Theseus said quietly, nodding. He still looked sad but no longer like he was gonna cry, which Techno counted as a massive win in his favor. Maybe parenting wouldn’t be that bad after all.

They brought in the items, and Eret showed them to their rooms. Eret’s was at the end of the hall and Techno’s was a few doors down. Beside Techno’s room was Theseus’ room and both seemed good, better than the wagon had been. There was a fireplace in techno’s room, and he remembered the layout of it quite well. He had stayed there for some time previously, and chosen the room specifically for the fireplace and the small bathroom attached to it. It wasn’t as large and well furnished as Eret’s washroom or any of the others in the castle, but there was running water, a sink, a toilet and a bathtub. That was more than enough for Techno, who had long since grown used to mostly washing up in rivers. Techno let Theseus settle in his room and showed him where to go if he needed help before slipping into his room. He put his books on the empty shelves and the various treasures were hidden in the room. His jewelry box set on the nightstand.

He opened the dresser and found some clean clothes that he had previously left. That would also be nice, laundry wouldn’t be such a pain. He bathed himself and got Theseus to stop jumping on the bed long enough to catch him and wrangle him into the bath as well afterwards. He had protested heavily until he hit the warm water, sinking into it almost immediately. He still protested as Techno scrubbed the dirt off his face and out of his hair but it was half-hearted and he seemed quite happy afterwards, wrapped in a blanket and wearing clean pajamas donated by Eret from when they were young. They were a bit big but Theseus said they were comfortable. Techno got him settled into bed and blew out the oil lamp in the room, leaving him to sleep. Techno lit his fireplace and stoked the fire until it was roaring steadily, warming the room. He blew out his own oil lamp after grabbing one of his novels, deciding on an old hero tale he had been fond of. He settled into the rocking chair by the fireplace, opening the well worn pages and settling in to lose himself in the story.

He had always cherished the fact he could read, and he was thankful for the escape. Sometimes he found solace from everything around him in the pages of a good story. He particularly enjoyed adventures with a clear hero. He never saw himself in those pages, and though as strange as it may have seemed it was nice. He wanted an escape from himself, not a reflection of him on the pages. He was okay with the fact he didn’t see himself in the heroes, though all too often he saw himself in the monsters the heroes slayed. He wasn’t proud of it, and he’d never speak of those events aloud, he’d never admit to what he’d done to anyone who he cared for. Though he didn’t know how much longer he could ignore it when Puffy knew. He had no doubt Sam knew as well. The hatred and fear in his eyes as they had stood face to face earlier told him all he needed to know. He didn’t know if Eret would still accept his help if he knew, but he had to try to explain himself. Nothing would justify it, but he wanted to help people this time. Not hurt them. He paused, shaking away the thoughts, it would only encourage them to start up once more. He hadn’t gotten a handle on them just for them to pop up now of all times. He had become so wrapped up in his book that he hadn’t realized the door opened until he heard it click shut. He turned, almost expecting Eret, but instead seeing Theseus, blanket around his shoulders, sniffing and wiping at his eyes.

“Hey… what are you doing up?” Techno asked, tilting his head and closing his book, finger on the page he was on, holding it ajar.

“I couldn’t sleep…” Theseus said, sounding as though he had been sobbing. Techno frowned and gestured to him to come closer, and as he stepped into the firelight Techno could see his eyes. They were red and watery, bloodshot and puffy. His cheeks were tear-stained and he looked awful.

“Nightmare again?” Techno asked. Theseus nodded. Techno thought for a moment. He didn’t know how to comfort kids very well. “Is there something you want me to do?” He asked, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to just ask him.

“Mom would always cuddle with me…” Theseus said softly, not looking up to meet Techno’s eyes at all, but he got the message. He leaned forward and gestured him forward. Theseus took a few steps closer and Techno picked him up, placing him down on his lap. He shifted Theseus so the child was laying across his lap, leaning against his arm and chest.

“Does this work?” Technoblade asked, hoping he was doing it right. He’d seen other parents do this, but he wasn’t sure. Theseus nodded and rested his head on Techno’s chest gently. “You want me to read to you?” he asked, getting another silent nod. Techno flipped the book open to the first page, and started reading aloud off the first page. He felt Theseus cuddle into him, pulling his blanket closer around himself while yawning softly. Time escaped him, and what felt like minutes went by before he paused and looked down, to see Theseus fast asleep in his arms. He felt like he couldn’t move without waking him, and looked around to see if there was a way to take him to bed, but there wasn’t. So Techno resigned himself to sleeping in the rocking chair that night, gently putting the book down on the small table beside him. He sighed and leaned back, holding Theseus gently and closing his eyes. He smiled slightly as he felt Theseus grab onto his shirt tightly with his small hand. Maybe it was worth sleeping on the chair tonight if it meant Theseus slept soundly. It wasn’t so bad.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

29. — preparation

CW: Discussions of medicating for ADHD (it’s not forced drugging, but Chris has a lot of trauma around pills, so I’m tagging ‘drugging’ anyway), PTSD, trauma responses

“What, what, what if, if, if... if it makes, um, makes me feel like... like it did with, with Sir?” 

Chris’s voice is hushed. He’s hunched in the doorway, staring into the bathroom. The tile is grungy, white but closer to yellowed with time no matter how hard they scrub. There’s an old circular stain in the ceiling, like someone left a coffee cup there upside down. 

Jake hums, filling a clear glass with water and setting it carefully to the left side of the sink. “Then you won’t take anymore. But you should try it for just, for a week or so, okay, Chris?”

“What if it-... what, um, what, what... what, what if it makes me, not, um, not eat? Like before?” Chris is smaller with every sentence, shrinking into himself. “I don’t want-... I don’t, um, don’t want the, the, the the the fog, Jake. I don’t... I don’t want it. I don’t want to feel that way again, you, you promised I wouldn’t h-have to, to feel that way anymore... you promised-”

“I know.” Jake opens the little semi-sheer orange pill bottle with a label wrapped most of the way around it, fake name but real prescription, and takes out a single pill - white on one end and the same orange as a traffic cone on the other. He lays it next to the glass of water. “And I’m not going to force you to take this, but you’ve been struggling trying to study for your GED and I think-... I think we probably should’ve talked about this a long time ago. I think Nat and I have known, and we just... shit. We were just trying to let you have your mind, for a while.”

“Will it... will it, it take my, my my my... my mind away?” Chris’s voice is tiny, infinitesimal, it’s the voice of a child.

Jake swallows against the twist of guilt inside him. “No, Chris. It won’t, I promise. If it’s, if this works, it’ll give all of your mind back to you. You’ll be able to focus when you have to, and get that studying done. You’ll be able to think, even more than you already do. Medicine isn’t supposed to take your thoughts away, especially not medicine like this. If it works, it won’t hurt you at all, it’ll help.”

Chris bites at his lower lip, watching Jake with big green eyes, rocking sideways lightly to knock into the doorframe, twisting one of the hoodie strings in his other hand, pulling and pulling to get the feeling of the tension wrapped around his fingers. “But if I, if I don’t want to do it anymore-”

“Then we stop. One week. Seven days. Seven pills. If after seven days, you can’t stand how you feel, we stop and we figure something else out. No harm, no foul, we tried it and we’ll try something else. But medicine isn’t evil, Chris. It’s just... it’s like a hammer. You can use a hammer to build a house, or to break bones, but the hammer isn’t good or evil. It’s just a hammer. Right?”

Chris swallows, and slowly nods, his eyes on the single, small pill next to that glass of water. “... right.”

Jake is quiet, for a minute, and then he’s in front of Chris, and Chris steps forward into his arms on pure and perfect instinct, knowing they will wrap around him, hold him tightly, hold him close. “I’m s-scared of, of, of drugs,” Chris whispers into Jake’s collarbone, the warmth of his skin. “I’m so scared.” 

His heart beats so fast and so hard Jake can feel it through his clothes, can nearly see the thrum of the pulse in the corner where his jaw and neck meet. He’s so thin, really, and they know he can do gymnastics and yoga and pilates, but he doesn’t look like gymnasts on TV, and yet... there’s a hint of those muscles in him, still.

Like he had them once, and they were siphoned away by starvation and drugs and pain, until a ghost of his strength remains to haunt the body they were able to save.

“I know, Chris. I know you are.”

“I don’t want to, to, to feel that way anymore, I h-hate it, I hate-... I hate it-”

Jake nods, looking out into the hallway, taking a deep breath. “I know. And I’m sorry that you were made to feel like that. I promise you - I swear to you, Chris, and you know I never don’t keep a promise I make to you, no matter what - that if you don’t feel better after a week, I will get rid of this bottle and you will never see it again.”

Chris sniffs against him, twisting fingers into Jake’s shirt now, humming low in his throat, rocking his head forwards and back lightly on Jake’s body, calming himself against the fear that threatens to shatter his fragile peace apart. Slowly, he starts to nod, nodding and nodding and nodding with his rocking, his tapping, finger-twist-tap-tap-tap, and it calms him.

They let him tap here, and rock, and hum, and hold him when it’s too hard and he tries to hurt himself to stop the cacophony of sound that overwhelms him, and they-... they let him have himself, his body, for his own.

Seven days. 

Seven pills.

Jake’s promise is between them, and Jake keeps his promises. Jake comes back, when he says he will. He comes back limping and bruised, battered and hurting, but he comes back.

Chris pulls back from Jake’s embrace, keeping one hand twisted in the bigger man’s shirt, and moves towards the sink. Jake moves with him, watching his face closely, his blue eyes a familiar weight, the kind that doesn’t hurt. “You sure, Chris?”

Chris swallows, and nods, bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes traveling over the little bathroom, the foggy-glassed window you can’t see in, the shower curtain with dolphins on it that Leila picked out, the sky blue bathmat. “I trust, trust you,” he whispers. “I, I trust you not to hurt me, Jake.”

Jake takes in a hitched breath. “God, I hope I live up to that,” He mutters, and Chris hears him and rocks lightly into his side, then reaches out and take the pill in his hand. It’s so light, barely a brush along his palm. It weighs nothing. It weighs too much.

Jake moves to pick up the glass of water but by the time he does, Chris has already swallowed the pill dry, easy as can be, and feels it move down his throat, closing his eyes against the familiar shift in his esophagus, the little pill traveling to his stomach, where it will dissolve in the acid that lives there and travel through his body.

And he will feel better.

Or worse.

He’s about to find out.

“If it doesn’t help, you don’t have to do it again,” Jake says, softly.

Chris nods, panic a constant white noise in the back of his mind, the threat of the return of the white light, the fog, one thought at a time moving slow as a rock slide that seems like nothing until you are crushed by it. A fire that seems distant until it burns down your house. A rain that threatens on the horizon until the hail starts to slam into your back and make you bleed into the perfect clarity of ice-

Chris whimpers, his moment of courage faltering, and Jake gathers him up again, arm around him, holding him close. 

“I promise it’s medicine,” Jake whispers. “I promise.”

“I trust you,” Chris whispers back, and he does.

But he’s still scared.

--

Tagging: @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout, @doveotions, @pretty-face-breaker, @boxboysandotherwhump, @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth

[bidoofenergy]

pebble brain ranking

7. “oh yeah, you gonna cry?” listen this album has no skips. this song slaps, i just dont like it as much as the others. great opener though, i can totally picture this live and it would be amazing. i love the trumpets and the drums and the guitar is having so much fun. only thing i’d say is, compared to other songs on this album, it doesnt have the same kind of emotional intensity, which isn’t bad but that’s why it’s here.

6. “perfume” by now i’ve noticed the way the instrumentation quality has really picked up. the guitar and drums are more complicated than in are you alright? and i love it. i really love the assonance at the end of the first verse (”left your heart on standby/by the way he holds you/bet he serenades you/i can't really blame you”) it gives the verse such a fun rhythm. for me, this is a placement issue, it’s lower energy than “concrete” and doesn’t handle the drop well. definitely worth saving, in the end i’m glad it stayed. and the guitar solo (?) between the final chorus and the outro is exceptional. once again, they really picked up the instrumentation in this album. 

5. “model buses” i can TASTE the early 2010s in this. what a fun song! fuck boris johnson. i love the line “I'm sure that you break more than I make” because it’s true and i have so many people i want to yell that at. the fun little play with “up your own ass”/“puppet show” had me SCREAMING. can’t wait to yell/sing “you’re just scared, you’re just scared of the future”

4. “the fall” i wasn’t sure about this one when i first heard it. the chorus feels flat and low energy compared to the verses, which is a shame because those are the lines you have to scream. but then the guitar really kicks in and the breakdown makes me fucking ascend. maybe if the chorus had wilbur a little louder, it could’ve been better. it doesn’t ruin the song, just makes you hold on a little in anticipation.

3. “you’ll understand when you’re older” hey wil im almost 22 when do i get to understand? this song is such a vibe. i love the guitar every other line on the verse, it grounds the song and that’s needed with wilbur’s airy voice sweetly singing about an abusive relationship. once again, they’ve really picked it up with the instrumentation. the guitar CARRIES this song, especially the ending. love the repetitive melody as the song ends and then the dissonance interrupts that pattern, forcing the listener to stay present and not get lost. a metaphor perhaps?

2. “it’s all futile! it’s all pointless!” when wilbur soot first wrote this song, when he first recorded it, when he scraped it from ycgma, did he know? did he think? did he even dream that less than 2 years later he’d rerecord it and a million people would listen and love it it’s first day out? i loved that first version of iafiap for it’s lyrics (i’ll make a home in your gut/cause it’s somewhere warm to sleep”) and depression and that grungy sound of a white guy with a guitar and a laptop application audio mixer. lovejoy’s version is loud and happy and open, the perfect closing song for this album. i love sad boy indie music as much as the next mentally ill bitch, but i love recovering-depressed-kid indie music even more. 

1. “concrete” i knew this was my favorite from my first listen. i love the fun, bouncy rhythm this song has. i need to learn the lyrics so i can scream them as i jump around, full of emotion and life and a little bit of anger. it’s peak male manipulator music and i love it. the pre-chorus is my favorite part: the way the music cuts out and it’s just drums and wilbur’s slightly whiny voice, layered with himself. and then music comes back and we get those trumpets !! as it builds into the chorus. “concrete” has what lovejoy does best in the lyrics: short, precise storytelling and fun imagery and repetition that sends you bouncing and crashing down the song.

[alfredosauce50]

What makes me human [Cyberpunk! America x reader 10]

Wordcount: 5,809 Rating: T for strong language and mild violence “Can’t you see that none of this is real? You’re living in the past, dumbass! It’s all a dream! If you don’t wake up soon, you’ll regret it!” Chapter synopsis: Half-dead, Allen falls into a strange realm of existence. It's nothing he's seen before, but it feels awfully familiar. He soon learns he's stuck in the past, and it's all in his head. He'll do whatever it takes to wake up and save Alfred from his demise he once played a part in. The reader is referred to as she/her.

Songs to listen to while you read (in order as found in playlist): 2049, Ghost in the shell - Original mix, Something about us, Cloudy day, L, The voice in my head. I have indented song titles throughout the chapter so you can change accordingly. Starting now:

2049, Ghost in the Shell - Original mix

“His condition is stable. He’s in a coma, but he’s gonna be fine.”

“A coma? For how long?”

Where were the voices coming from? Was there one person or two people speaking? He couldn’t tell. But his interest quickly changed to another subject.

Am I dead?  

With whatever brain activity he had left, that question was the only thing he heard repeating in his head like a broken record. 

He couldn’t see anything, let alone feel anything as he drifted into an abyss of nothingness. In fact, it was so empty, he couldn’t even say it was darkness he was engulfed in. Just nothingness. Was this what people experienced before walking over to the other side? Or was he going to be stuck here forever? Allen couldn’t tell. Not when there was no concept of time in this strange realm of existence, anyway. 

His eyes shot open. It took a few moments for his vision to adjust, but he came to realize he was sitting in his car. Huh. Was that all a dream? Whatever it was, it had escaped his mind so seamlessly, he couldn’t remember anything. Leaning forward to peer out the window, he was greeted with an onslaught of neon lights. Neon signs, holograms, and posters surrounded him from all angles and heights. At least that told him he wasn’t far from home. Turning to the front, he attached his hands to the wheel. Now, to get back. 

If he drove around for a few minutes, he’d surely pinpoint his location relative to Arthur’s auto shop. Revving up the engine, he heard it purr to life. As a small grin stretched over his lips, he pulled out of the cul-de-sac to move to the main street. “I missed you too.” He murmured, never letting his gaze stray from the road. Eventually, he made it to a familiar intersection. Before he could pass through it, he stopped and found himself staring at what looked like a police chase coming to an end. 

A helicopter hovered over a car stopped in the center. Over the fierce thumping of its blades, he heard a grungy voice barking out orders through a loudspeaker. He couldn’t make out what it was, but it didn’t look like they were followed. Not when the occupants in the vehicle were immediately shot upon stepping out–collapsing to the ground after a rain of machine gunfire blew them apart. 

“Jesus Christ…” He mumbled under a frown. “Poor bastards.” 

After they all dropped like flies, the helicopter took off in another direction. And just like that, they were gone. 

The police in Twilight city were ruthless as always. Quick to action, and yet, just as dismissive. But it wasn’t his business. So long as he played his cards right, he wouldn’t have to deal with them. Making a right turn, he breathed out a sigh as he made a detour. He never liked using alleyways. There was no saying if he’d run into a couple of weirdos in places like these. Speaking of weirdos, there was a couple of men huddling around a corner.  It piqued his curiosity to see them so interested in whatever it was they surrounded. Or more accurately put, who they surrounded. A girl. Slowing to a stop behind a tall bundle of crates, he leaned over to the right to get a better look. She was shaking in her boots, and her lips were trembling as she struggled to respond to the questions thrown at her. And how old was she anyway? 10? 11?

“That doesn’t look good.” Allen narrowed his eyes.

He climbed out of his car.  

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his bomber jacket, he approached the group slowly. But when one of the men took a hold of her shoulder, adrenaline surged through his veins and he burst into a sprint. When he got close enough, he grabbed said man’s shoulder before throwing his fist back. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” Punching him square in the face, he sent him hurtling towards the ground. 

Immediately, his cronies responded by pouncing on the newcomer for giving one of their buddies a black eye. After a few minutes of violent tousling, he managed to beat them all into submission. 

Leaving them groaning and wincing in the dirt, he gave his hand a rough shake. Phew. He hadn’t had a good fight in ages. Giving his bottom lip a light tap to find a small blotch of red on his fingertip. And he won against three people too,  escaping with only a busted lip. Before he could gloat about it, he glanced around to find the girl. Where did she go? 

Assuming she ran away, he shrugged and moved back to his car. If she wasn’t here, then he wouldn’t be obliged to help her any more than that. But upon nearing his vehicle, he spotted a small pair of feet poking out from the back. Then, they proceeded to shuffle back to become completely concealed. Breathing out a chuckle at that, he rested his hands on his hips. 

“I can see you.” 

No response. 

“You can come out now.” Making his way around the trunk, the child buried her face into her knees upon realizing she had been discovered. A light frown downturned his features at the sight of her shaking like a leaf. “Man, am I that scary?” He murmured, lowering himself to his knees. “Hey, kid. I’m not gonna hurt ya. I was just passing by. I promise I won’t do anything.” 

She kept her face hidden, but her trembling seemed to calm. 

“Well, if you’re not gonna say anything, I’ll be on my way. Just make sure to move out of the way so I don’t run you over.” Standing up on his feet, he turned his back to her. Before his fingers could do so little as graze over the car handles, a faint voice piped up. 

“Wait!” 

Allen grinned and spun on his heel. “Yes?”

She stood up slowly, but kept her head low to avoid his gaze. Without removing her hands from her pants, which she was clenching at, she opened her mouth again. “Could you maybe… Tell me where the train station is? I got kinda lost.” The way she spoke was soft, breathless even, and more so than Allen’s who just beat up a bunch of no-good-doers. 

“The train station?” The redhead questioned. Not that he didn’t know where it was. In fact, it was only a few blocks down, but he had to think twice about sending a ten-year-old off to wander the streets around here. The same streets a police shootout just took place, and the same streets where she was approached by a couple of hooligans. “How about I drop you off? I’m not in a hurry. I dunno if you wanna walk around by yourself after what happened.” 

He said it before, and he’d say it again. This city was an absolute shithole. 

“R-really? But I’m not sure…” The enthusiasm faded as quickly as she lit up. “I don’t know you.” 

“And I don’t know you either.” Allen hummed. “So you’re just as dangerous to me as I am to you. Sound fair?” 

The girl furrowed her brows. 

“That doesn’t make sense. You’re way older than me.”

“Oh yeah? I’m only eighteen though. Lemme guess, ten? Twelve?”

“Thirteen.” She answered, relaxing just a touch at the sound of his age. At first glance, one would have assumed he was in his early twenties, but she was relieved to know she was wrong. “Are you still in high school?”

The man blinked. Was she warming up already? “Nope. I finished nearly a year ago. But that doesn’t mean I sit around all day with nothing to do.” He opened the car door to the driver’s seat. “You’re lucky I was out and about to get your ass out of trouble. So what do you say we keep it that way?” 

The ride there didn’t take long, much to Allen’s surprise. By the time his GPS revealed that they had arrived, he had slowed down near the curb in front of one of the tallest skyscrapers in Twilight city. Sliding the window down, he poked his head out to give his surroundings a gander. The blinding lights of the liveliest commercial center forced him to squint, but he could still tell this was the city center. And that only meant the residential lots were a little further down. 

“You sure this is the right address? There’s nothing but malls and stuff around here.” He shouted over the bustle of people crossing the streets and pounding of music. 

“No, this it the right place. I live right there in that building!” Climbing over to the side, she pointed at Matsumoto Optics. 

Exchanging glances with the said building, then the girl, he gave his head a light shake. “What do you mean, you live right there? Nobody–” He paused, feeling dread settle in his stomach. “Wait a sec. What was your name again, kid?”

“(F/N) Matsumoto. My dad actually owns the whole plaza.” 

He paled. 

“Holy shit.”

Why did it feel like a gun was pointing at him?

Because there was one. 

Whipping his head to the window next to him, he found himself staring straight down the barrel of a gun. While his heart broke out into a pounding frenzy, he came to notice that his whole car was surrounded by men in suits. Bringing out every kind of shootable weapon that existed, his blood ran cold at the sound of more than twenty firearms cocking at once. From every angle there was, he was aimed at by something. “Fuck.” 

“Put your hands where I can see them!” One of the men demanded.

Allen threw his arms up. “Alright, alright!”

Glass shattered. A hand shot through the broken window and hit him in the back of the neck, hard. “Gh-!” It knocked him out immediately. Then, his unconscious body was dragged out of the car with next to no grace.

So much for following orders. 

When he finally came to, all he knew was the throbbing pain in his neck, and the rope burns around his arms and wrists. Since they were tightly bound together, he could only blink away the fuzz in his vision. This day had to be the longest yet. All he remembered was waking up in his car completely disoriented, then saving a middle-schooler from a bunch of creeps. Where was this place? An office of some sort? How did he wind up here again? All he could do was speculate as he continued to kneel on the carpeted ground. 

“My daughter told me you saved her from a group of ruffians.” A low voice began, forcing him to look up. My daughter? Did that mean he was Matsumoto? The Takahiro Matsumoto? The most powerful person on the planet? The person whose name he heard every minute of the day from slogans? His suspicions were confirmed when he found himself gawking at a beast of a man, who stood a little over six feet with a long gray beard. 

Wait a minute, this guy was old? And this… Built? “If she hadn’t, you wouldn’t have woken up.” 

Allen tensed. 

“… Right. Well, I’m sorry for whatever I did. I didn’t know she was… A Matsumoto.” He breathed. “If I did, I would’ve let her ride the train herself. Didn’t think putting her in my car warranted a death sentence.” 

“But you are alive, boy. And she is too, thanks to you.” The older man graciously responded, giving his head a firm pat. Then, he lowered his gaze to meet the other’s eyes. “I see an unwavering sense of justice from you. There were three men you had to fend off to keep her safe, and you only managed to let them hit you once.”

“…”

“You have talent.” 

“… Thanks.”

“If you haven’t noticed already, I want to recruit you.” 

The redhead had to do a double-take. Were his ears playing tricks on him, or did he actually say– 

“You wanna… Hire me?” 

Matsumoto nodded. “Like I just said. You have the skills to be a bodyguard, and we are in urgent need of one.” An ominous light glinted in his dark eyes as he opened his mouth again. “Did you ever wonder why there was a job opening?”

Allen gave a nervous laugh. On second thoughts, maybe laying low in Arthur’s auto shop was the better option. “Thanks, but no thanks. I was just lucky today, and I’m not a pro. I think you’re better off hiring somebody else–” 

The other hardened his stare at him. “We have an elaborate training program to prepare you for your duties. I see no reason for you to reject.” With a swift flick of his wrist, he beckoned over a few men who had been standing on the sidelines. “These gentlemen weren’t half as good as you when they began. Now, they are the best any secret service has to offer. Their combat skills are impeccable, and their instincts refined to perfection.” 

When he sensed he had fallen right into a trap, he wasn’t wrong. 

“I wouldn’t imagine it to be hard for them to locate anybody residing in this city. Even your friend, Arthur, the British mechanic.” 

Seeing that Allen was now at loss for words, he smiled. 

“I believe it would be in your best interest to work for me, Jekyll.”

That same day he was recruited, his induction took place. And boy, was it a lot. By the time they had finished, night had fallen. Fortunately, he could treat himself to a hot dinner in the dining court before retiring to his room. He couldn’t say being given his own condo was unexpected, but when he stepped inside to become completely immersed in luxury, he was faced with a rude awakening. Up here where the air stretched thin over the blinking lights of Twilight city, he was reminded how out of place he was.

All his life, he was at the bottom. He grew up a street rat before he was taken in by a kind mechanic. And he taught him everything he knew. Never did he imagine he would ever be this high up in the clouds, working in a high-ranking position under a man comparable to God. And the longer he lingered on this reality, thrusted to him without his say, the hotter his eyes felt. There was no saying if he could go home again.

And that meant he wouldn’t be seeing Arthur anytime soon.

The next morning, he woke up the groggiest he’d ever felt in his life. Squinting at the window that happened to take up his whole wall, he was graced with a hot orange sunrise. It cast a pinkish haze over everything in his sight like a filter, but he was far too exhausted to appreciate the scenery. He checked his phone. 6:23 AM. Twenty missed calls and twelve text messages. Crap. He’d call him later. He needed to figure himself out first.

Giving his face a cold splash of water, he rubbed his eyes clean. Lifting his head to the mirror, he found himself staring at his reflection, which of course, stared right back. Did he always look this young? He snorted. What was he thinking? Of course he did. He was only eighteen, after all. Sliding himself in a dress shirt and pants, he finished off the look by throwing on a black blazer. Then, he gave his appearance a hard stare. “… Nope. This looks stupid.” Leaving the bathroom in a white tank and bomber jacket, he ventured out into empty morning halls to find the elevator.

Once he made it to the third floor, he began his journey to the training dojo. The walls were a beige white, the floors a polished wood, and there were shoji screens everywhere. He was washed over with a strange sense of déjà vu. But considering this was his first time here, that couldn’t be the right phrase. Jamais vu was more like it. He was here with the impression he’d never been before, but he somehow knew that was a lie.

And it was a gut feeling so strong, it was kind of eerie.

He couldn’t understand why he was feeling this way. And not being the thinking type, he chose to brush it off. He had enough to worry about already, so the last thing he wanted was to overthink a foreign environment. Maybe some exercise could clear his head— and that was exactly what he’d be doing today. His rigorous training program.

Entering a spacious room, he stepped inside to feel his shoes sink into soft tatami mats.

“Don’t even think about taking another step in here with those shoes on, Jekyll.”

A very rigorous training program.

***

Something about us, L

It had only been a few days since arriving here at Arthur’s, but you were slowly regaining your strength. With every new morning, you awakened with more energy than the last. Perhaps the small light of hope of seeing Allen do the same was what urged you to become an early riser. But like yesterday, and the day before, that hope was shattered at the sight of him unconscious in bed. He didn’t even move an inch.

Nearing his side, you lowered yourself to your knees and reached out to his cheek. Talking to him while he slept had become routine to you. You’d tell him about your day, everything you did, and all your conversations you ever had. If not, you’d reminisce the past so he wouldn’t feel left out. He never interrupted, and let you run off on tangents until you were sick of talking. “I really hope you wake up soon, Allen. I feel like… I’m talking to myself here.” Your voice was soft with a heart-wrenching kind of sadness, but you refused to linger on it.

After all, how could you expect him to wake so soon? You knew how strong he was, but it would be selfish to want something impossible. So you forced yourself to leave the room, figuring you would feel better if you focused on something else. Little did you know, someone had been lurking in the halls during your visit.

Alfred had his back pressed up to the wall outside while you dropped by, and he heard everything. And not even from just this morning. Everything you ever told Allen, he listened in on too. 

He knew better than to infringe on your privacy, and hear things that were better off left unheard. But he kept finding himself hiding outside in the hall, doing it again and again—even Arthur had caught wind of it. 

He heard footsteps clunking against the metal floor, but he never bothered to turn to it. Usually, Arthur would’ve kept on walking. But not today he didn’t. “If you like her so much, you should just tell her.” He’d murmur. 

Alfred whipped his head to him with his eyes widened ever so slightly. But he visibly eased seeing it was just him. And rather than denying his claims, he tore his gaze away. “I can’t.” His brows were furrowed for creases to form between them. Arthur was almost taken aback, having never seen him so frustrated. 

“Why not?” The Brit responded, resting his back against the wall beside the man. “It’s painful seeing you loiter out here all day. I’d say I felt sorry for you, but you’ve been eavesdropping on her for a while.” At the sound of that, the other’s cheeks flushed red. So his guess was right on the mark, after all. “She’s coming out right now. Might wanna make a run for it while you still can.” 

“Guys?” Another voice joined, forcing the two men to spin around. 

The mechanic bit back a snort. “Too late. I’ll be in the garage.” He whispered. Shooting you a brief smile, he turned on his heels to leave. “You two have fun now. I have lots of work to do today.” With that said, he disappeared to do exactly that, but not without a few chuckles under his breath. For the many years he knew the guy, he never found anything he wasn’t good at. There was nothing he couldn’t do. Looking over his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of Alfred with a hand on his neck, laughing nervously. 

That perfect track record was finally ending, it seemed. 

At least he wouldn’t have to watch him fumble around with his feelings for long. You and Alfred were planning to leave in a few days to God knows where, to do God knows what. Frankly speaking, he didn’t know what you were doing, hanging around such a shady guy like him. That was right. You two arrived with your bodyguard Allen, who was half-dead then, and barely clinging to life now. What the hell happened? Wouldn’t your father be concerned?

Maybe he’d ask Allen himself, if he’d awaken anytime soon, that was. For now, he’d stay on the sidelines and help Alfred repair his missing Mantis blades as he’d requested. He was restless without them, frequently interrupting his work with, “Are you done yet?” until he finished for the day. Arthur narrowed his eyes and clicked his tongue, shutting the garage door behind him. Whatever you two had planned, he couldn’t imagine it to be legal. 

***

Cloudy day

A few months had gone by, and he was finally getting settled in his new workplace. But there was no saying when he’d ever be forgiven for it. Not that he could even explain himself. What was he even supposed to say? I saved a girl from a bunch of creeps and put her in my car to take her home but she wasn’t just any girl and turned out to be the daughter of Matsumoto himself and now I’m being threatened to work for them because they know where you live. That surely wouldn’t fly. Especially when he went through all that just to be a glorified babysitter. 

He just knew Arthur was buried up to the neck with work, now that he was alone. Breathing out a sigh at the thought, he rolled his head to the said girl sitting by a cherry wood coffee table, whose nose was buried in a book. 

“You ever get bored reading stuff all day?” He began, stretching his arms across the backrest of the couch. 

She shrugged. “Sometimes. But I have to study, otherwise I’ll fall behind.” 

Allen nodded, stretching his lips into a flat line. “Fair enough. Well, I did just graduate high school, so if you need any help with… Math or whatever, just let me know.” Surely, seventh-grade level wouldn’t be too difficult for him.

“Mm… Thanks, but I don’t think you can help me with what I’m doing. This is like… College level stuff.” You gave him a sheepish smile, to where he gawked at you in response. 

“Wow, you a genius or something?” 

“I don’t think I am.” 

“You’re just being humble, kid. It’s fine to be proud of yourself, ya know. ‘Specially now, cuz it gets kinda annoying when adults do it.” Allen grinned, hopping up from his spot to give her hair a ruffle. She could only hang her head to hide the embarrassed pout on her lips. Fortunately, their height difference let her do so. 

“Thanks, I guess…” It was only when he pulled his hand away did she look up again. In her line of vision was a chest of drawers, and she reached out to point towards it. “Also, could you mind checking if my USB’s in there? I think I left it in one of the drawers yesterday.” 

The redhead spun around. “Sure, no prob.” 

Pulling out one of the compartments, he rummaged around random bits and bobs until he caught sight of said USB. Besides the connecter, the storage disk was fairly long and flat. This thing could’ve stored hundreds of terabytes of data if it could. That translated to hundreds of computers’ worth of information. Picking it up, he held it in his fingers to give it a brief study. Before he called over to you with his lips separated ajar, he found himself entranced by it. 

But what was so interesting about something as common as a storage disk? For some reason, the small object in his hand resonated with him. It was… So familiar. As if he’d seen something like this before. Or perhaps, it reminded him of something he forgot about. Problem was, he didn’t know what. And it was a gut feeling so strong, he couldn’t seem to shake it off. 

The voice in my head

That night, he was called to his superior’s office for a security briefing. Appearing through the tall double door, he walked in with his hands in his pockets. Situated deep in the room, and just by the window overlooking the blinking lights of the city, was his desk, and the man Matsumoto himself. His chair spun around to reveal a bearded man well into his seventies with a light scowl on his face. “I expect you to wear the uniform suitable for these occasions, Jekyll.” 

Allen blinked before rubbing his neck. “Right, sorry. Forgot.” In all honesty, he considered showing up in a black tie and all, but it wasn’t the most comfortable fit in the world. “So, what’dya call me in for?”

The other clasped his hands together and gave him a firm stare. “Even in my company, you have moments of… Stepping out of line. Breaches of discipline.” He gestured to his attire, letting it do the speaking. “I may overlook some inconsistencies in exchange for your services, but there is one rule you must not break under any circumstances.” 

Silence fell in the room so you could hear a pin drop. It gave Allen some room to think–to guess what his superior was going to warn him about. A secret basement that locked up human guinea pigs he wasn’t supposed to stumble into, perhaps? But that was ridiculous. So he stayed quiet, prepared to listen intently to the man. Surely, his guess was far from reality. 

“There is a… Basement a few floors beneath the lobby.” 

Allen froze. He’d heard this before. 

Otherwise, how else could he guess that he’d say this? 

“I keep my most prized possessions in there. Personal vehicles and upgrades. Nothing goes in and out undetected. So don’t even think about stepping inside.” He couldn’t believe a word he said, as calm and convincing his tone was. 

Allen had an idea why. 

He sensed something was off the minute he came here. It was all so obvious–the familiarity of the dojo halls, the USB, and even his face in the mirror. He’d seen it all before. Previously, he’d brushed it all off. But he couldn’t deny it any longer now that he had this conversation, a conversation he already had. So if his intuition was right, that meant he could guess what was actually in the basement. And there were no fancy sports cars to speak of. 

He gritted his teeth as his tanned complexion began to pale. Then, his stomach began to churn. 

“… Are you unwell?” 

He lifted his head and shook it. “Nah. Just lost in thought.” 

“You may lose yourself in the emptiness in your head as much as you desire, but not in my presence. If you don’t have any questions, you are dismissed.” 

“Yessir.” 

Turning on the spot to leave, a deep frown downturned his features now that he wasn’t facing him anymore. Something was terribly wrong. And he was about to confirm it. A couple of hours later when the whole building fell quiet, he snuck down to the basement floor through the elevator. And while he ran through the pitch-black halls to the door in the end, he couldn’t get this thought out of his mind. He’d definitely done this before, too. 

Swinging the door open, he was greeted with a familiar stench of death. But he didn’t have time to gag. Running to the two pods, he never bothered turning on his night vision. He trusted his body and his muscle memories to guide the way. And it was the right call, because he found himself standing by the pods in no time. Lifting up one of the hatches to find a mummified corpse, he stared with an unreadable expression. 

He wasn’t even surprised. And that was really telling, considering he would’ve vomited at the sight. But this only solidified his suspicions. This wasn’t new.

Nothing was. 

Turning to the other pod, he fiddled around the latches for a minute or so before giving in. This one couldn’t be opened, not without proper authorization. Okay, this was new. He didn’t remember this pod being locked. So he jabbed his fingers into a couple of buttons, unable to resist his curiosity. He couldn’t leave any stones unturned. Thankfully, his rapid button smashing eventually did do something to reveal what was inside. 

The glass that was previously fogged up cleared. 

Inside lay a man. A blonde. His skin was flawless in save for the outlines of removable plates. He was a cybernetically enhanced individual, but not one he wasn’t already acquainted with. 

“We put him to sleep for fifty years…” 

“By the time he gained his consciousness, we turned him into a killing machine.”

 “Even to this day, he remains my greatest creation.“

Fragments of his memory began to play in his head. All until he could remember the name of the sleeping figure. It was Alfred. And he had yet to wake up to go on a killing rampage, or in other words, the first time they’d ever meet.

Allen eventually retreated back to his condo. The first thing he did was go to the bathroom and splash cold water to his face. If he wanted to figure out what the hell was going on, he needed to clear his convoluted mind first. Either he was a psychic or stuck in another reality. But he wasn’t bright enough to be a psychic. And interdimensional travel wasn’t invented. Yet. So what could it be?

While he rubbed the bridge of his nose with his wet fingers, his train of thought was interrupted by a voice. And it sounded just like his, but deeper. 

Glancing up to the source, he found himself staring at his own reflection in his mirror. But he came to realize it wasn’t him–rather, it was an older version of him. They had the same face, eye color, and hair, but the person who glared back at him had sharper features, and a more defined jawline. Unbeknownst to him, it was the subconscious of his present self.

“What the hell are you doing?” He hissed.

Slamming his hands against the mirror, the loud bang caused Allen to jump. “Can’t you see that none of this is real? You’re living in the past, dumbass! It’s all a dream! If you don’t wake up soon, you’ll regret it!” 

Allen dug his hands through his hair, and before he could even question him, panic overwhelmed his system. Not that he needed to, because everything he was just told made perfect sense. “W-Wake up? But… But how?”

“What do you think genius? You have to die!” The other screamed. “If you don’t wake up soon, Alfred and (F/N) are gonna get away with the chip! You can’t let him put it in his head! The Soulkiller will destroy him!” 

Fuck. 

He felt himself tense up in all reality as more memories flowed back to him. That was right. He was in a coma after being stabbed by a katana. He remembered how desperate he was as he fought to stay awake, all so he could warn Alfred he was falling into a trap. But he failed, and wound up in another realm of reality. His dreams. And if he didn’t wake up soon, there was going to be hell to pay. 

Shoving his hand into his jacket, he pulled out a gun. 

Then, he exchanged wary glances with his subconscious, who nodded at him. 

He cocked it. “If you’re wrong… And I die in real life…” It wasn’t like he had anything to threaten him with, though. “Let’s hope I don’t.” Sliding the gun into his mouth, he screwed his eyes shut. Then, he pulled the trigger.

Shooting up with a loud gasp, he finally awakened from the longest trauma-induced sleep he’d ever had. Almost immediately, he heard somebody else let out a scream of genuine fear. “Ah–!” By the foot of the bed he was laying in was Arthur, and he’d fallen right out of his chair. “Jesus fucking Christ! If I’d known you’d wake up like that, I would’ve sat further away!”

Standing back onto his feet, he was never fast enough to stop Allen from sliding himself off the bed. “Hey– watch it! You can’t move right away!” 

“How did I get here?” 

Arthur stepped back as his friend loomed over him. “Well–I’m not sure how you fell into a coma, but it was Alfred and (F/N) who brought you in.” 

Thank god.  “And where are they now?”

The other shrugged with a look of defeat. “I don’t know, honestly. All I know is they’re doing something dangerous. Alfred wouldn’t leave before I helped him install a new set of mantis blades.” 

“Fuck!” He hissed, feeling his heart sink to the pit of his stomach. Bile was even rising in his throat as he reflected on the possibility that Alfred was already dead. “I was too late. I was too fucking late.” Shaking his head as heat accumulated behind his eyes, he paused for a moment, letting hot tears of frustration run down his face. Then, he gripped Arthur’s shoulders when he was hit with an epiphany. With the slim chance they only left recently, he still had time. 

“How long have they been gone for?”

The blonde pondered for a moment, but the concern in his eyes never faded. “Only a week, give or take. Why? What’s wrong?” 

Before Allen could breathe out a sigh of relief, he was gripped with a panic-inducing sense of urgency. “That means I can still save him!” If he remembered correctly, the Soulkiller virus needed at least two weeks before the damage became permanent. So if he could somehow find you both in seven days, he could save Alfred. “No questions. I’ll explain in the car! We have to find them as soon as possible!” 

He would’ve been dead if it weren’t for him. 

So in return for saving his life, he’d do anything to save his too. 

[strvngcrs]

『 adam brody. forty. cis male. he/him. 』 oh heavens, is that DANIEL ABRAMS from FAIR LANE i see roaming around mapleview? minnie may’s always calling them -BROODING & -EVASIVE. i happen to think they’re not that bad! they’re a pretty cool HORROR AUTHOR and every time i’ve seen them, they’ve always been +DEBONAIR & +ELOQUENT. i hope i see them around again! 

classically rolls in ridiculously late bc i forgot i had to work last night & then proceeded to sleep in today wooo !!  good afternoon ghouls, it’s ya girl maia, finally here to deliver the definition of hot mess with good intentions.

GENERAL

FULL NAME.    daniel elijah abrams.

NICKNAMES.    dan, danny.

AGE & BIRTHDATE.    40 years old ; may 4, 1980.

GENDER & PRONOUNS.    cis male ; he/him.

ORIENTATION.    heterosexual.

MARITAL STATUS.    estranged.

RELIGION.    jewish ( non-practicing ).

OCCUPATION.    horror author.

INSPIRATION.     bill denbrough ( it ), donnie darko ( donnie darko ), lucas scott ( one tree hill ), stephen king.

PHYSICAL

HAIR COLOUR.    black.

EYE COLOUR.    dark brown.

BUILD.    athletic.

MARKS.     freckles scarcely spread across his entire body.

TATTOOS.    none.

PIERCINGS.    none.

HEIGHT.    5'11".

FACECLAIM.    adam brody.

PERSONALITY

ZODIAC.    taurus.

ALIGNMENT.    chaotic neutral.

HOGWARTS.    ravenclaw.

LABEL.    the arcane.

POSITIVE TRAITS.    cheeky, debonair, driven, eloquent, resilient, solicitous.

NEGATIVE TRAITS.    brooding, evasive, inquisitive, sarcastic, stoic, stubborn.

HOBBIES.    smokes like a chimney while writing until he forgets what day of the week it is, dabbles in hunting & fishing (thanks @ his dad), labels all crime / thriller genres as ‘predictable’ but continues to watch them, obsesses over & relentlessly criticizes his own work, drinks heavily & passionately plays moonlight sonata or fur elise as if he’s betoven’s disciple.

BACKGROUND

PLACE OF BIRTH.    california.

CURRENT RESIDENCE.    mapleview, north carolina.

NATIONALITY.    american.

ETHNICITY.    ashkenazi jewish.

PARENTS.   judith miller & mr abrams.

SIBLINGS.    mia miller.

BIRTH ORDER.    eldest.

CHILDREN.    penelope abrams.

EDUCATION.     university of california, los angeles; bachelor of arts in english.

LANGUAGES.    english, some spanish & french.

HISTORY

EARLY LIFE.    born to THE judith miller and some newspaper editor, daniel was raised by the latter and notoriously abandoned by the former. well, not completely abandoned - there’s an old shoebox containing a few letters as proof - but that was the only source of communication in their otherwise absent relationship. while little danny boy didn’t fully understand why he couldn’t see his mother, he sought out an alternative solution by watching her movies. his father wasn’t aware, at first, and dan created this extravagant fantasy of the person he thought she was based on the roles she played. however, once papa abrams found out his son was watching these movies (which were probably not fit for children in the first place lmao oop), he begrudgingly revealed the bitter truth. being forced to come to terms with the fact that his own mother willingly abandoned him with his father, daniel didn’t fully understand what it meant; he couldn’t properly process why. the hurt of absent mother was expressed more out of anger, feeling as though there must have been something wrong with him. there were fewer and fewer letters sent to judith until he gave up altogether and thus, dan’s out of control behavior was born.

TEENAGE FEVER.    SUICIDE MENTION TW.  he struggled in school. his emotions betrayed him. instead of relishing a happy childhood, daniel found himself pushing everyone away, getting into fights, sneaking out late at night to run around the city streets with his friends and get into all sorts of trouble with them. he couldn’t count on his hands how many times the police picked him up and brought him to his dad’s doorstep. it only got worse once one of his best friends was found dead, written off as a suicide, though it didn’t add up in dan’s eyes and seemed so much more sinister. the young man was nearly deemed to be a lost cause, until he discovered his passion for writing. 

                                  language arts or literature was the last thing anyone would ever think to group with daniel abrams. but his english teacher noticed how well he could articulate his thoughts and feelings on paper, and submitted one of his pieces to a writing contest, which earned dan the win and a cash prize. bewildered by a talent he hadn’t even realized was in him, daniel embraced it. he started writing in a journal ( which he kept safely tucked away beneath the mattress of his bed ), documenting every feeling and thought as a way to express his emotions in a more productive manner. this talent earned him a full ride scholarship to ucla with a major in literature and plans of diving into some sort or creative writing career or perhaps becoming an english teacher, to follow in the footsteps of his high school teacher who he came to idolize.

                                  mere days into his freshman year, however, his high school sweetheart showed up in the middle of the night at his dorm with a positive pregnancy test. it was then the chaotic world as he knew it turned a new leaf, revealing a silver lining in the form of their daughter, penelope, who daniel hadn’t a clue, just yet, would save him. and so a shotgun wedding was quickly planned around the pair, both families either completely supportive or in utter disbelief. it was quick, it was cheap(ish), and it was stressful as all heck. but they were young, and in love, and were looking forward to starting a family together, despite it being a little earlier than initially planned.

“ADULT”HOOD.    fast forward five years, and they’re signing divorce papers. fortunately, it wasn’t messy. the two had simply grown apart as they matured in their respective ways, and remaining together was only causing a rift to develop between the two. the last thing they wanted, for the sake of their daughter, was built up resentment to tear the little family apart. his wife, who daniel initially thought to be the love of his life, blossomed into an absolute goddess; she was ambitious and knew exactly what she wanted. daniel, on the other hand, was still somewhat caught up in his ‘bad boy’ habits of drinking excessively and his career was still pretty up in the air. the two just didn’t compliment each others’ lifestyles anymore.

                                   daniel moved out but remained in california, settling for a bachelor’s apartment where he was able to have penelope every weekend. during this time, he finally cracked down and worked on finishing a novel he’d started years prior. within a year, he found a publisher who took interest in his grotesque works, and by the time daniel was twenty seven, his first bestseller hit the shelves, changing his life for the better with the ability to provide for his daughter without stress of landing another odd job ever again.

                                   as his fame increased, so did his desire to slink back into the shadows away from the limelight. at first, he enjoyed the wholesome book signings by day and grungy celebratory benders by night. but it grew old pretty fast and he certainly didn’t want to end up as another washed up shmuck. so, on a whim, daniel decided to move out of california completely, removing himself from the toxic lifestyle he’d grown accustomed to and shacking up on a beautiful piece of land in the rocky mountains of north carolina. the serenity and scenery certainly aided in his inspiration, as well as his unacknowledged lowkey addictions slowly being rehabilitated from his bloodstream.

OLD YELLER.    now, in his utmost prime at forty years old, he’s written numerous cult classics, a few of which have successful movie adaptations. he was lucky enough to land himself in a second marriage, though.... that one is now deteriorating as well because he literally doesn’t know how to maintain a healthy relationship. he received full custody of his daughter when she was sixteen, under the unfortunate circumstance of her mother’s untimely death. although they’d been separated for nearly twenty years, daniel was still very much affected by the loss, more so empathetically for penelope. he’s still hooked on the drink, though he’s definitely calmed down quite a bit from when he was a young buck. basically a messy, depressy old soul who uses sarcasm to deflect his true feelings.

CONNECTIONS

ESTRANGED WIFE.    first marriage was a bust, and the second is turning out to be no better. they haven’t hit rock bottom just yet, in his opinion (which would be finalizing a divorce lmao), and he’s unsure if they should work things out or not but also really.......doesn’t wanna go through the process of another divorce. plus he likes her and deep down adores their bickering. the reason(s) why things started falling apart between them can be discussed of course. lowkey debating on whippin this up as a big official wc but.... if anybody already here would like to snag it, i would 100% mclove it.

COLLABORATORS.    literally anyone he’s worked with over the years, whether they be fellow authors, publishers/publicists, journalists, screenplay writers, etc. yeehooo the possibilities are endless !!

FOLLOWERS.    anyone hooked on his books, whether devout fans from his early beginnings or people who newly discovered his fictional writings.

FORMER CLASSMATES.    could be from high school or university, but he was in california for the better part of his life aka not a mapleview native. former friends to foes & anything in between. dan’s that one kid who spiked the punch bowl at all the dances and years later probably snuck in party favors to snort off the bathroom sink during their high school reunion lmao whew !!

ANYTHING.    literally anything. i’m my groggy state of mind on my lack of creativity rn so please, i’m beggin. if daniel can enrich your characters’ lives in any way, shape, or form, hit me up and we’ll hatch a plan.

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

Arcade

aquesion Summary: You can do one where Eddie has a teenage son and Richie thinks he doesn't like him?

A/N: this was requested by anon, I hope you enjoy!

An ibuprofen looked very appealing to Richie right about now. The tension building up in hos forehead and the back of his head led him to believe this was a stressed induced headache, and Richie has no issue pinpointing exactly who orchestrated it.

In all fairness, Luke, Eddie’s son, had every right to think going to an arcade was lame, but Richie was stuck with an eighties mindset and imagined the arcade being more like those times, instead of a sad, worn down building with a handful of arcade games and only five people present, two of them as old as the building they found themselves in. The man behind the counter to change money into coins creeped on every person occupying the machines, peering over his low hanging glasses and staring unabashedly.

Luke flipped the pocket money Richie dumped in his hands out on the counter, the stoic look not allowing one shift that would grant Richie the possibility of reading his emotions. He’s Eddie son, and so Richie mistakenly assumed that winning over his favor was a matter of hours, but the way their progress was crawling by, his favor might never be granted.

The money traits with a pitiful six coins, meaning a total of two games each, way less then Richie calculated in his head, and then creeper has the audacity to laugh at them, showing his grungy yellow teeth.

‘Four? I payed for way more than that.’ Richie holds his ground, recounting the aquesion again and concluding again that the coins he received are not enough.

‘More money more games’, is the only thing the man says for himself, the sentence probably memorized and routine.  

Richie bristles, he’s been on edge for the better part of the day, more than ready to take on some guy in a sleazy arcade who acts like he can effort to be indifferent towards his very unattainable customers, but Luke gathers them in his palm and waves of Richie’s protests.

‘It’s fine. Faster we’ll be out of here anyway.’ It’s the most he has spoken since their arrival and it’s to express his wish to get this over with. Good job Tozier.

‘Aren’t you a comedian anyway? I’m sure you earn a ton of money.’

Though it’s true, it’s still a rip-off, and when Luke turns his back Richie adamantly flips the creeper the bird, before scooting after his ‘stepson’. Supposedly, if all goes well at least, which it hasn’t up to this point.

The comedian part is the first thing Richie messed up, by resting on his laurels and assuming that he was up to date with what the kids categorized as cool nowadays. His whole target audience consisted of teenagers, aged Luke, and so he thought he had a few trendy points saved up to appease the son of the love of his life, but apparently not.

It wasn’t even like they spewed out the fact they were dating to him straight away either. Eddie took him on day trips every weekend since the divorce, to gingerly introduce the new parts of his father Eddie had hid away, from himself too, like him being gay.

When Eddie did come forward and came clean, he excitedly informed Richie that Luke was okay with his father being himself, but that he hadn’t mentioned Richie yet.

That was normal and Richie understood, he never pushed Eddie for a meeting despite gaining excitement the more information he gathered about him. In fact, Myra told him about the relationship out of spite and jealousy, to turn her son against his dad, but that backfired horribly.

Luke’s curious peeked about Richie too. About the man Eddie renewed his whole life for, but he must not have liked what he found in Richie, because the boy hanging out with Richie now is cold.

And Eddie warned him too, but Richie was too stubborn to listen. Gently bringing up the fact that Richie needed to tame down the over sexual jabs, especially in regards of Eddie’s mother. Richie brushed that advice off, mind set on the idea that Eddie loves his joke, even when he pretends he doesn’t, so Luke must find some humor in them too. Mission failed.

Luke’s hobbies consisted of painting and video games, and Richie didn’t understand the slightest about painting, but he did know a lot about videogames. Visiting an arcade seemed fun, a way to show Luke that Richie mastered the skill of triumphing in any computer based game, but the place he decided on was a dumpster, and the machines were likely not updated since the eighties.

None of it looked appealing, the dust thicker than Bill’s smallest book, so much so that even Richie shuddered at the prospect of touching it. Luke ambled between machines with his hands deep in his pockets.

‘See anything you like?’ Richie strikes up a conversation, nibbling on the pad of his thumb to stop himself from making another joke. Luke didn’t find his last one so funny.

‘No’, Luke says, continuing his path without even bothering to look at Richie. Richie wants to asks him if he’d like to go home, knowing for sure the answers is yes, but he doesn’t want to blow the only opportunity he may have to get to know Luke, so he toughens it out.

‘Oh look at this.’ Absentmindedly, he walks over to the one game he spend his entire summer playing, street fighter, and pins down the start button, the intro song emerging from the speakers.

‘This is what I impressed your dad with back in middle school.’

‘Somehow I don’t see how that would’ve worked out.’

‘I won all the time and your dad hated that he lost to me, so he fought me again and again, losing every single time and returning next day for another beatdown. It was a good way to hang around him without seeming suspicious.’

‘Maybe you were good at it then, but you’ve regressed old man.’

‘How about I show you how good I am at this game?’

‘Bring it on.’

They compete in silence, emerged in their own players actions and desperate to win from the other. Luke’s good, really good, with his little experience of this particular game he whips the floor with Richie.

Richie obviously can’t let that happen, so he opts to distract the boy the same way he did to others in Derry, in the hopes of coming out on top.

‘Really? And you say you’re a video-game expert, my grandpa can do better then you’, Richie eggs him on, delivering a punch to Luke’s character with a hard knock on the controls.

‘I sure am. And are you sure it’s not yourself you’re talking about? You know, because of how old you are?’

Richie gasps dramatically, releasing the consoles and clasping his hands on his chest while he gasp in faux-upset. Luke laughs once, then delivers the final blow to end the game with Richie losing.

Richie gapes open mouthed, beat at his own game, the end credits blinking by.

‘Guess I’m better than you expected huh.’ Luke’s laughing now, his frown relaxed in a gentle smile that resembles Eddie a whole lot.

‘Maybe we can go again and see who wins?’

‘You’d want that? I mean of course, let me go get some more coins.’

Luke blinks, his face back to neutral but at least he’s no longer frowning. It’s not much, but it’s a start.

[kutemouse]

Through Hell (A Park Jimin One-Shot)

“If you’re going through hell, keep going.” ~ Winston Churchill

Disclaimer(s): The middle picture of Jimin used in my header is the property of BTS and BigHit, I just edited it a little and put it in the frame. The one on the far left was scanned and edited by @bangtan-sonyeon-scans. I’ve kept their logo/watermark intact and did not touch their edit in any way. The only thing I did was put it in a frame. All credit goes to them for the edit. Please check them out, they do amazing work 💜 I cannot find the owner of the picture on the right. I found the pic on Pinterest and it didn’t have any logos or watermarks on it. I assume the picture belongs to BTS and BigHit, but if someone knows who the original owner is, please let me know so I can properly credit them.

Age Recommendation: 18+ (See warnings, this def isn’t for young ‘uns)

Genre: Angst w/ a happy ending

Warnings: Swears (f*cking duh), straight up abuse including hitting and slapping (do NOT read if you are not comfortable), ANGST.

Word Count: 2.4k (not too bad, not too bad)

Master List

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Through Hell (Jimin One-Shot, Angst)

“Could you try to at least be a little personable?” your fiance growled, gripping your forearm tightly.

“I-I’m trying,” you muttered, looking down at the ground.

He pinched your jaw between his fingers, forcing your eyes to his. “Well fucking try harder.”

Dragging you out of the empty hallway, the both of you rejoined the table with smiles much too large to be real. You did your best to please your fiance, making an effort to talk more, laugh louder, and gesticulate frequently. You were the life of the party, the perfect trophy almost-wife, there to socialize and make witty conversation.

You realized you had done your job too well when one of your fiance’s business partners slid a hand over your thigh, chuckling at something you said. You instantly froze, flicking a fearful glance towards your fiance. Rage smoldered behind his dark eyes.

“Fuck,” you thought. You shoved the man’s hand away and abruptly excused yourself to the ladies’ room, practically sprinting away in an attempt to escape.

Too late. A hand closed around your wrist, jerking you to a stop the second you stepped outside.

“What the fuck was that?” your fiance snarled, yanking you close.

You let out a yelp. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“The hell you don’t!”

He released you only to draw a hand back and slap you square in the face, the force of his palm colliding with your cheek causing you to stumble. Your vision blurred as the sting worked its way through your nerve endings, causing your skin to redden.

Your fiance drew his hand back once more when you heard the shout of an unfamiliar voice. “Hey!”

You blinked away your tears just in time to see your fiance whirl around and get punched in the face. He fell to the ground with a groan, his eyes rolling back in his head.

The stranger who’d saved you clambered on top of your fiance, pinning him to the ground. Your fiance struggled, but stilled when he saw the stranger’s fist poised above him, ready to strike. “The fuck is wrong with you?!” the stranger growled. “Didn’t your mommy teach you not to hit?!”

“Get off me!” your fiance grunted.

The stranger reared back and punched him once more, effectively knocking him out. With a heaving chest, he slowly stood up and turned towards you, using his fingers to comb back his messy orange hair. You were still frozen from shock, your mouth parted open, your hands hanging limply at your sides. It wasn’t until the stranger reached a hand out to you when the feeling began returning to your limbs. You closed your mouth and slid your palm into his, surprised at how soft his skin was.

“Hey,” he said. “I’m Jimin.”

“Y-Y/n,” you stuttered, distracted by the way he moved your hands up and down.

“Are you okay?” he asked, leaning down and looking in your eyes.

“I think so.”

Your fiance groaned, causing both of you to look down at him. “He’s coming to,” Jimin said. “We should get out of here. Can I give you a ride?”

“Sure.”

He gave you a small smile, tugging gently on the hand that was still sheathed in his. “C’mon. My ride’s a couple blocks from here.”

You nearly pulled your hand out of his. You didn’t know this guy. Just because he saved you from a brutal beating from your fiance didn’t mean he was a good person. For all you knew, he could be even worse than your fiance.

Then again, what did you have to lose? Your fiance would probably call the cops and get Jimin put in jail, then take you home and beat you senseless. You looked into Jimin’s bright brown eyes, and you saw nothing but sincerity and warmth. That was enough for you. You let him lead you down the steps, around the corner, and away from who was supposedly going to be your terrible future.

You relished in the freedom of getting away, giggling a bit as you both walked down the street still hand-in-hand. Jimin looked at you, nothing but fondness in his eyes. You took a second to look him up and down, appreciating every inch of the handsome man beside you. His bright orange hair stood in stark contrast to his black leather jacket and uber-tight jeans. Silver glinted in both of his ears, but an earring dangled down from just his left ear, giving him an attractive rebel vibe that had your heart pounding.

Wait. You couldn’t think thoughts like this. You were engaged. To be married.

But was it a true promise of marriage when you didn’t love him? When you were forced into betrothal by your controlling father? When you saw no happy future, no light at the end of the tunnel, no escape, no happiness?

“Sorry to barge into your argument like that,” Jimin said, running a hand sheepishly through his hair. “I didn’t mean to interfere, and I know it’s none of my business, but—”

“Don’t apologize,” you interrupted. “Believe me, you saved my ass back there. Temporarily, at least.”

He stared at you. “Don’t tell me you’re going back to that asshole.”

You glanced at the ground. “It’s not like I want to, but… I have no choice.”

Jimin stopped you right there, in the middle of the sidewalk, gently putting a finger under your chin and raising your eyes to his. Such a contrast to the way your fiance would grip your jaw and force you to look at him. “You always have a choice,” he murmured.

You gave him a tiny smile. “Tonight I do. But I don’t know what tomorrow will bring.”

“Look, I know I barely know you,” he said. “But come stay with me. My friends and I can protect you.”

You were taken aback. “You don’t even know me,” you retorted, slipping your hand out of his. “You don’t know who my father is. He’ll find some way to take you out and drag me back home.”

Jimin stepped close. “And you don’t know who I am.”

“I know enough.”

He smirked. “I don’t think you do.”

“I’m still not staying with you.”

“Fine. But the offer still stands.”

You opened your mouth to shoot a reply back, but closed it when a terrifying thought stopped you. They’d already be looking for you.

You grabbed Jimin’s hand once more. “Fine, I’ll stay with you… but just for tonight, alright?”

Maybe giving your fiance the night would give him a chance to calm down. Maybe your father would be so terrified of losing you, he wouldn’t force you to marry that dickbag. Maybe things would simply look brighter in the morning, and would give you the strength to face them both.

Jimin’s smirk widened and he started down the sidewalk once more. “Not far now.”

Jimin’s ‘ride’ turned out to be a motorcycle parked at the very end of the block. I looked down at my tight evening gown, the deep gold color glinting in the dim streetlight. Not exactly the outfit for a motorcycle ride.

“I have a spare helmet,” Jimin said, handing you a black helmet that matched the one he already had on.

“Gimme a minute.”

You reached down and grasped the fabric of your dress between your hands, tearing it away from your legs with a loud rip.

You didn’t miss the way Jimin gawked at your exposed legs. You reached behind you and took the pin holding your hair up out, shaking your curls loose. Jimin’s mouth parted open, causing a blush to swell beneath the skin of your cheeks. “I’ll take that helmet now,” you said playfully, taking it from his grasp and putting it on your head.

Jimin shook his head, closing his mouth. “R-Ready?”

“Yep,” you said as you snapped the clasps underneath your chin together.

You clambered on the back of the motorcycle, sliding your arms around Jimin’s firm torso, relishing in the way his breath hitched as you felt him up. The motorcycle started up with a stuttering roar, and you were off, the wind whipping through your clothes and over your skin, causing your eyes to water.

You didn’t dare close them, though, wanting to remember every second of what might be your last delicious moment of freedom. Jimin weaved between cars, going faster and faster. Your dress flew up, trailing behind the cycle in a wave of gold fabric, revealing more of your skin than you normally would have liked, but tonight? Tonight you didn’t give a damn.

Almost too soon, Jimin stopped in front of a grungy apartment building in a part of town your father or fiance likely wouldn’t dare step foot in. He propped his motorcycle up on its kickstand, and you climbed off of it, gratefully accepting the hand Jimin held out to you. You both took off your helmets, and you self-consciously tried to smooth down your hair at the same time Jimin ran a hand through his once more, combing the soft orange strands away from his face.

And, oh, what a gorgeous face it was. Besides his beautiful brown eyes, you took a moment to appreciate his smooth skin, his high cheekbones, and most of all, his full, pink lips that you longed to rub the pad of your thumb over.

Noticing your stare, Jimin tossed a smirk your way. “Enjoying the view?”

You looked away, a blush dusting your cheeks pink. “Is this where you live?”

“Yep. Come on, let’s go inside.”

Fifteen minutes later, you found yourself wrapped in a blanket, sitting on Jimin’s bed in his tiny studio apartment. He handed you a mug of steaming tea, which you took a sip from despite its hot temperature.

“Thanks,” you said.

“Any time.”

You both were quiet for a moment, sipping from your tea and staring at the kitchenette directly across from you. “Can I ask you something?” Jimin said suddenly.

“Sure.”

“Why were you even with that guy?”

“Who? My fiance?”

Jimin scoffed. “You’re engaged to that asshole?”

I hung my head. “Unfortunately, yes,” you muttered.

“Why? Why not break it off? You clearly know he’s not good for you.”

“Because reasons,” I sighed.

Jimin put a hand over yours. “Tell me.”

You looked up at the ceiling, focusing hard on the bumpy texture to keep the tears at bay. “Because I have to.”

“But you know you don’t, right?”

“You don’t understand. My father is a billionaire who practically owns half this city. Ever since I was little, I’ve been promised to this guy… he’s heir to a company that directly competes with my father’s company. If we marry, our families and companies join, and my father has been promised an extensive partnership with my fiance’s father that will double his assets. He wants to build an empire.”

Jimin’s gaze grew darker with each word. “And you can’t say no? You can’t just walk away?”

You swallowed hard. “I’ve been groomed for the role of perfect wife since I was a child… I have no skills, I’ve never been allowed to do anything for myself. Where would I go?”

“Here,” Jimin said forcefully. “You can stay here. I can help you get a job, teach you how to live in the real world.”

You shook your head. “He would find me. My father would find me and drag me back home. I’d be lucky if he didn’t keep me prisoner until my wedding.”

Jimin stood up and began pacing, striding back and forth, back and forth, over the wooden floor over his apartment. “I know people,” he finally said, looking at you. “People who can… get you a new identity. We might have to change your appearance a bit, but��� it could work.”

Your furrowed your brow. “Why?” you whispered. “Why would you do all this for me? You said it yourself, we barely know each other.”

Jimin knelt down in front of you, enfolding your hands in between his. “Because no one deserves to be treated badly,” he said seriously.

That sincere, warm look was back in his eyes, drawing you in, hypnotizing you into a state of resolution. Determination flowed through you, making your blood boil and tingles to break out along your spine. For the first time in your life, you felt your rebellious spirit rise up and possess you, drawing out courage you didn’t even know you had.

You looked deep into Jimin’s eyes and nodded. “Fine,” you said. “We fight.”

Jimin’s full lips turned upward in a smile. “My two favorite words.”

Without warning, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours, causing you to stop breathing. The kiss lasted for only a few seconds, but to you, that kiss was your ticket to freedom. It helped you remember what you were fighting for every time life, your ex-fiance, or your father threw a wrench in your plans. It helped you remember exactly who you were, and how much power you held to change your life. It helped you find out what true love actually felt like.

But most importantly, It helped you remember that no matter what hell you were going through, you would do absolutely everything to just keep going.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

A Note From Kutemouse: So I’m a slut for orange-haired Jimin. Yep. Thought you should know that.

Annnnnyways, so this didn’t exactly fulfill the request given, and for that I feel bad, believe me, I do… but I’m sorry, I just can’t write abusive Jimin 🥺 I know that’s a popular thing out there (last I checked, the number one Jimin story on Wattpad was an abusive Jimin au), but I can’t write it. I just can’t see Jimin ever, ever, ever hitting someone or being abusive ever, and writing any BTS member in that light makes me sick to my stomach.

So, once again, I apologize kutie anon. I hope this one-shot is good enough for you to forgive me 💜

Also, please do NOT follow Y/n’s example and hop on the back of some stranger’s motorcycle to go live with him. There are good people in this world like Jimin, but there are also a lot of sketch people. Be safe, use good judgment and common sense.

Love you all 💜

[always5hineee]

Profit Margin- Chapter 3: Charge

Chapter warnings: Mild language

Word count: 1537  

Full chapter list can be found on the Profit Margin tab on my page.

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       Once they were sure she wasn't planning on acting up, Hendery personally grabbed her wrist to escort her to the car. Even if she wanted to escape, he had an iron grip, and the men to back him. She hadn't been able to see who else was with him, as they had waited until she was in front to follow, but she could only assume that it was Xiaojun and YangYang as her captor had previously stated.        

       They led her up several flights of concrete stairs, exposing her to more and more light. Once she was finally at the top, she found that they were indeed still inside the arena. The only lights still on were the emergency lights. He led her through one of the audience entrances to the ground floor, bringing her to a spot that she hadn't been too long ago. Passing it, they went through a door near the bottom of the stage into the back area, clearly where the dressing rooms had been.

       Shuddering, she looked at it all, passing by to get to the back door. She would have given anything to be here mere hours ago, and now she was scared out of her mind.

       "Save it," Hendery teased as he felt her shake. "You haven't seen anything yet." Now what was that supposed to mean? It was already messing with her head that these were her idols, the people she had looked up too. Not only that, but she had been so tired after the show that it was weighing on her. Wait, tired... That's it, she must have fallen asleep in the bathroom and started dreaming, or hallucinating, or something. She just had to snap out of it. Suddenly, the wind was knocked out of her as she was shoved towards a door.

       She hadn't realized it as she was so deep in thought, but they had made it to a sketchy-looking black car. Pushing her towards the opening, Hendery began speaking again.

       "Get in, Xiaojun will sit on the other side. You stay in the middle." She didn't move. "What's the problem."

       "I..."

       "I, what, honey? Speak up."

       "I don't want to." This caused all three of them to laugh.

       "Hear that? She doesn't want to." The third man snickered as Hendery tightened his grip on her wrist.

       "Tough luck, sweetheart." He said, picking her up by the hip and practically throwing her into the car. As he slammed the door behind her, she heard him say in a muffled tone, "I will say, this is much more fun with just one." Looking around frantically, she tried to get a bearing on her surroundings. The entire inside of the car was black as well. There was a man sitting in the driver's seat who seemed older, wearing a black suit and shades. He was clearly just an employee of the band.

       She heard the doors open on either side of her, causing her to yelp.

       "None of that." The man to her left said as he got in. "If you start screaming, we'll have to gag you again." Looking over with a snap of her head, she realized that it was indeed YangYang. Although his expression was tired and his clothes were grungy, it was undoubtedly him. In a similar fashion, she looked over the man to her right- Xiaojun. He nodded in greeting.

       "Hey." Hey? Fucking hey?! This was insane! What was happening? She couldn't exactly use anything she had planned to say should she have met any of these people. Hey! Nice to meet you, I'm a big fan. Thanks for kidnapping me! Not exactly the most optimal of conversations. YangYang hit the back of the driver's seat, saying,

       "We're good to go, follow the bus." As they pulled out, she realized they were in a small parking deck, the white and yellow lights glaring on the windshield. It was clearly nighttime, which made sense giving the time of the concert. Still, she didn't know how long she had been out, nor what time it was. They pulled out onto a dark street, a familiar sight from when she arrived.

       "Don't bother." Xiaojun said, noticing as she tried to remember where they were headed. "It's gonna be a long ride." The second she stopped trying to figure out escape routes, she slouched back into her seat, defeated. She was going wherever they ere taking her, now. Would anyone notice? Or give a shit? Would they look for her?

       She was growing tired very quickly. She wasn't sure what the effects of the drugs she had been given were, but sleep certainly wasn't one of them. She felt like she had been awake for a millennia. Her eyelids dropped like weights as the car began moving. She couldn't fall asleep- she had to remember. On the off chance that she was able to escape, she could maybe follow some memorable landmarks. They were leaving from a familiar city, after all.

       She wasn't given the choice. It was mere minutes before she fell asleep. Her dreams were turbulent, but surprisingly she didn't see a single face of the band within them. She later figured that it was a subconscious sort of stress. She saw flashing lights and felt shaking all around her. Suddenly, she felt very hot, like her blood was boiling, the steam trying to escape from beneath her skin. She opened her mouth to scream, but instead it felt as though thousands of diamonds were pouring out of her throat.

       Awaking in a cold sweat, she felt a hand on her shoulder as she jumped. Looking to the source, she noticed that it was Xiaojun attempting to wake her, abruptly pulling her from her hellish nightmare.

       "Sorry to startle you. We've arrived." Arrived... arrived where?

       "Come on, we don't have all day." YangYang prompted, getting out. The driver was nowhere to be found. Had he left the car while she was still asleep? If so, he must be quick- or she was slow. The man shut the door behind him, leaving the one who woke her to lead her out of the vehicle.

       They were in a surprisingly well lit area, ceiling coated in LED's. Still, the surroundings were still unsettlingly bare, made up of a slightly dirty concrete. It felt like some kind of warehouse considering the materials as well as the size, along with the big, rusted metal door she was being led to. She glanced around, trying to see if there were any clear exits.

       "Don't try it." Xiaojun muttered. How was he so good at telling what she was thinking? Well, whether it was a truth or a scare tactic, she was more than convinced enough to keep in line. His grip was strong, anyway, she doubted she could twist her way free, especially if h was expecting it.

       They walked through the door, into a tiled hallway. It was even chillier than the concrete parking area, but the lighting was just as harsh to her eyes. They made more turns than she could count, winding down hallways and through big doors, passing smaller ones on her left and right. She could have even swore they traversed the same hallways multiple times. Were they trying to disorient her?

       Finally, they came to the end of a hallway with an average sized, dirty black door. While it seemed similar to many of the ones around her, it felt different... This was where they were headed.

       "Did you make sure he knows we're here?" Xiaojun asked, clearly not speaking to her.

       "Yeah, and Hendery probably doubled up just in case. He's not out today, it should be fine." Knocking lightly, YangYang reached for the handle, swinging it open. What she saw inside was a surprisingly well-furnished room, much like a conference room at an office building. There was a large, dark, wooden table in the center, surrounded by a variety of mismatched office chairs. At the head of the table, a man sat with stacks of papers strewn out in front of him, clearly overlooking them with quite a bit of focus.

       "Kun. Here's the girl." The man looked up, and Y/N could see that it was indeed the band leader. His face was not nearly as young as it looked on stage. As far as she knew, he was in his mid twenties... so why did he look so... tired? Standing up, he walked to where they were stationed right inside the doorframe. Looking her over, he directed Xiaojun to turn her slightly in a few different directions.

       "What's her name?"

       "Y/N..." she responded quietly. Looking down, his stare was withering. She immediately shifted her gaze down to the floor in response.

       "I didn't ask you." Shit. "She has a mouth on her. Remind me why there's only one?"

       "Hendery got held up." YangYang cut in, knowing that Xiaojun would try and have the two of them take responsibility. "She's younger, though, not bad looking, she should be one of our higher sellers. We have plenty of shows left, as well."

       "Hm. I suppose." Kun said. "Alright, I'll speak with everyone about the plan. Send her to Lucas."

Go to Chapter 4

[floof-reppu]

Invalidity

[omg, so... I may or may not have written a first part to what I hope will be a long ass series... about a Villain AU Mt. Lady. I.. kind of ended up throwing my OC in there, but why the fuck not? anyways... if this is well-received, I’ll definitely continue it soon!!]

Word Count: 2.8k

“You’re absolutely disgusting. You’re a terrible person, and I never want to see you again-”

“You really believe you’ll never see me after this? Think again. I’ll be on the front of each and every published print in Japan, and then the entire earth. You’ll remember me as more than just a pretty face; you’ll remember me as your goddess.”

It was easy for Yu to get the upper advantage in a situation. On the streets during daylight hours, everyone knew her as the likable Mt. Lady. She was loved by all, children and adults alike. But the fame was beginning to get to her. If she wasn’t on the front page of every published tabloid and magazine in Japan, nobody was allowed to be on the front.

It was this ideology that made the pro into somebody sinister, someone who was willing to cross the lines between heroism and villainy alike.

Yu Takeyama wanted to make it bigger than every other hero, no matter what.

Even if that meant turning to crime as the answer.

...

Another day, another crime, another interview; the cycle always repeated itself.

Today, us as The Lurkers just so happened to have an easy criminal to apprehend. I sustained minimal injuries, even as I haphazardly took a chunk out of a nearby building without thinking and threw it at the villain. I was lucky I didn’t injure any surrounding civilians in the process with how forcefully I threw the concrete. Today definitely wasn’t the best of days. 

And to top it off, I was berated by Edgeshot and Kamui for acting recklessly. Come on, can’t you give a girl a break every once and awhile? I’m lucky the press showed up after the fact and had no clue of the… mistake I made.

“Mt. Lady, tell us, how do you feel about the rising crime rates in Japan? Do you believe that pro heroes such as yourself and your fellow members of The Lurkers are going to be able to keep up?”

Interviews were just another part of being a pro hero. The citizens always want to believe that everything is going to be okay, that every single villain that attacks the city is going to be apprehended. I always made sure to sugarcoat the truth in order to keep chaos at bay, because hell, I’m busy enough as it is.

“Of course! It’s our duty as heroes to keep crime at bay. Just because the rate is rising doesn’t mean we aren’t doing our jobs right.” Smiling at the camera was about all I could do to ease the nerves in my stomach. Was I scared? A little. The future of society was starting to become uncertain with the number of crime syndicates rising, as well as independent criminals.

Sometimes I question if what I’m doing is the right thing. But all I could do is put on a brave face and act like everything is okay, at least for the time being.

“I see! Thank you for your time!”

“We- ...I-It’s no trouble at all!” That’s usually not how it goes, at least most of the time. I’m sure there was a reason the reporter cut me off short. 

I took a look through the window of one of the nearby shops. 5:38 P.M. Damn, it’s already that late? I guess I was so caught up with the media that I didn’t really pay attention to the time, since I was technically done patrolling a little over a half hour ago. 

I really am an attention hog, aren’t I?

…

Do I ever go out during the night? It usually depends on how busy the day was, or my mood. Sometimes I’ll go out for a drink or two, out of costume of course (since if I didn’t I’m sure my reputation would be ruined if I was seen drinking in public), at one of the local bars near my apartment. It’s not uncommon for people to recognize me, but I’m technically off-duty when my entire costume is off and put away in my dresser. It’s always nice to unwind after a long day of doing my duties as a pro, alcohol or not. 

“Ah, come in for yer usual, Takeyama?” The bartender greeted me, grin plastered on his grungy face. You could tell that he spends most of his hours here, the disgusting five o’clock shadow dusting his jawline. 

“Nah, I’ll go for a whiskey on the rocks tonight,” I leaned across the bar and placed a thousand yen bill over to him, “and keep the change. Don’t get the wrong idea, though.”

“Aye, so are you really with Nishiya-”

“Not in a million years. We’re just good friends, is all. I’m as single as the next woman that walks into your bar for a drink.” God, how I hate this dumbass. Just ‘cause I’m on the same team as Shinji and we spend time together as friends doesn’t mean shit. 

I watched him grab a glass full of ice and pour bourbon whiskey over top until it was almost ready to spill over.

“Got’cha. Here’s your drink.” 

The cheap smell of alcohol flooded my senses as the drink was slid over to me. I took it in my free hand, pinky dangling over the edge, and went over to the darker corner of the bar to survey my surroundings. Sitting down in an old wooden chair, the bar was mostly empty, save for a few of the normal groups of coworkers who frequently drink together. You wouldn’t catch me drinking with any of my coworkers, though.

There was one man, however, who caught my eye. Clad in a nice shirt and dress slacks, it seems like he just came back from working himself, and you could clearly tell that he dyed his hair, white being the predominant color on top and neatly cut raven locks underneath. He looked quite familiar to me, but I just couldn’t pinpoint exactly who he was.

No better time like the present to find out.

“Hey, you.” I spoke in a monotonous voice, my face showing almost no emotion as I tried to get the man’s attention. He looked up from his smartphone to glance at me, but didn’t give me a second thought as he went back to what he was doing.

Oh, hell no. 

I stood up and started to march my way over to his table while resisting the urge to get up in his face and cuss him out in more ways than one. His grey irises were fixed on one of the many social media platforms installed on his damn phone, which was a bit aggravating, but I guess he was used to it since he was sitting by himself. 

“Did you not hear me? I was trying to get your attention,” I placed my palms on the opposite end of the table and leaned over, staring straight into his soul.

“I heard you, I’m just a bit preoccupied, lady.” 

“Then I don’t think you’d mind if I took this from you-” The classy glass of wine that sat on the table right next to him was wide open, so of course my right hand took a dive to grab it, but then out of nowhere it seemed to vanish and reappear on the other side of him. “Okay, what the fuck was that?!”

“Don’t you know not to touch what’s not yours?” The man grinned, finally setting his phone down. “Aren’t you Mt. Lady?”

“Wow, aren’t you smart.” I snorted, rolling my eyes and sitting down across from him. “What gave you that idea?”

“Platinum blonde locks of hair styled to look the way they are, hair all the way down to the top of your ass, the ‘give me attention’ attitude? Yeah, it wasn’t that hard.” He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest and gazing down to my hands. “I never figured you as the type to go to disgusting bars like this.”

“It’s my choice, not yours. Besides, you’re also here, right? Means you don’t think this place is half bad.” 

“You’re smart and intuitive. Shame that you’re going out with-”

“Don’t you fucking dare. There is nothing going on between Kamui Woods and I, thanks.” 

“Then let me be the one to introduce myself,” he stuck his hand out over the table. “Hayato Kurosawa. I’m a pro hero just like yourself, but you’ll just have to find out-”

“Chrono, right?” I should have known, especially with the way he made his drink disappear like that. His quirk is labeled as Time Manipulation, but I just call it plain trickery. I’ve only worked with him once on a mission, and I haven’t seen him since. No wonder I didn’t recognize him at first glance. 

“-damn, you remembered. It’s been awhile since we’ve seen each other, but even then we never got introduced formally-”

“Takeyama. Yu Takeyama.” I shook his hand with a firm grip, giving him the most genuine smile I could muster. Man, was his palm sweaty.

“Ah, well, er, it’s nice to meet you? Hahaha…” Kurosawa averted his eyes, a small blush creeping onto his face. Was this dude seriously flustered?

“Anyways…” I retracted my hand back to my side of the table, palm down. “Care to share why you were sitting alone?”

“Going to the bar with other pros is unethical, at least in my opinion.” 

That entire statement made absolutely no sense to me. How is going to the bar with a couple of buds from the hero biz unethical? I decided to stay silent and not voice my opinion, but something tells me that Kurosawa isn’t all that he’s cracked up to be.

“I have a question for you, Takeyama,” he started, folding his hands neatly on the table, “why are you so interested in the media?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Your entire costume, at least to me, screams sex appeal just as much as your hero persona. But yet you’re so much more relaxed and carefree now that you’re out of costume. Are you just trying to put on a show to get attention?”

I instantly froze up.

At first, I wanted to be a pro so I could not only make money and provide for myself and any future family I might have, but also so that I could help those who couldn’t help themselves. My quirk turned out to be more destructive than useful in an urban area, but that didn’t stop me from establishing my agency in the big city. If I had gone to a much more rural area, I would never have gotten the attention that I’m currently getting.

Am I being fake? 

I’d like to think that I’m not, but the more that I pondered this thought, the more that I came to the realization that I wasn’t being true to my purpose as a pro hero. Does that make me a hero, or does that make me, in theory, a villain? 

Honestly, I don’t know what I am anymore.

…

I went home that night with a few more glasses in my system. 

Kurosawa thankfully escorted me back to my apartment, as the post-it note on my counter-top claimed, along with his phone number scribbled hastily below. Honestly, I’m surprised he didn’t try to take advantage of me in my drunken state. It wasn’t the first time I’d gotten horribly drunk, but it was the first time that someone had thought to escort me back to my apartment.

I’m sure I told him where I lived while I slurred my speech or some shit. 

Waking up this morning was a nightmare. Immediately, I had to rush to the bathroom and vomit all of the contents in my stomach from last night into the toilet. God, I absolutely hate hangovers. After a solid minute of throwing up and wiping my lips off with toilet paper, I walked to the kitchen and saw the note he’d left for me.

‘Text me if you want to talk about last night, or if you’re bored.’ 

“What the hell…” Kurosawa is definitely an interesting man, and who knows what he might turn out to be to me. But right now, I should probably try to get rid of this nausea.

Grabbing a bottle of water from my fridge, my mind drifted back to the words he said last night. I couldn’t recall what I said after that, but chances are I avoided the question and started to drink my problems away like usual. I hate how I got so worked up over what Kurosawa said, whether his question was out of sheer curiosity or seriousness. I went to go sit on my sofa, turning on the television and opening the water bottle, taking a swig of it before screwing the cap back on. 

The interview from last night was on. My smile was forced, my words a lie... I was no better than the criminal I helped to apprehend. I’m still no better than them. I put on a brave face to hide my fear, even now my face was scrunched into an expression I couldn’t begin to describe with words. All the movements I made were exaggerated, exuberant, fake. I wanted the camera to focus on me, on what I had to say, not the damn reporter. It seems that the cameraman got the memo and zoomed in on all of the parts I wanted to be highlighted.

That’s why, when my phone buzzed, I didn’t know what to expect. It was my day off, after all. The name Shinji Nishiya flashed on the screen multiple times, and I picked up my phone.

“Yeah, what’s up?” I propped my legs on the coffee table, laying back on my sofa. 

“Yu, are you watching the National News?” Shinji’s voice was laced with concern, which made me worry.

“No, what’s on the National News?” I picked up the television remote and changed the channel, and instantly I dropped everything. What was the headline, you might wonder?

Mt. Lady: A Hero, or a Villain in disguise?

What the fuck. 

“Last night, civilians recall the pro hero Mt. Lady endangering the lives of innocent bystanders as she violently hurled a chunk of a nearby building at a criminal. While this managed to take said criminal out, there is no excuse for this kind of behavior as a pro hero.”

“That’s very true. If she had common sense, she would have never risked civilian casualties, nor would she have purposefully damaged public property.”

“She’s only in it for the attention. Either that, or she’s just that dumb.” 

She’s only in it for the attention.

Either that, or she’s just that dumb.

“Yu? Yu, are you-” I hung up on Shinji, tears forming at the corners of my eyes.

My career, my reputation as a hero, is ruined. One of those goddamn civilians said something out of spite, and now look what happened. I’m done for. 

I turned off the television and threw the remote across the room. The tears came flowing out like a waterfall, and I sobbed uncontrollably, head in my hands as I started thinking about what would happen next. I didn’t want this to be the end of my career, no, I wanted to make it big, I wanted to be the smiling face that people of all ages would come to love and enjoy. But it was all taken out of my hands as soon as that report aired. 

But I… kind of liked the attention that I was getting. I loved the way they talked about me as if I was famous nationwide, as if everyone in Japan knew my name. If they didn’t know before, they sure did know now. That’s when I knew it had to be true, what I had thought about earlier.

If I was willing to do something like that just for the attention, I really must be fake.

But... I’ll show Japan that I don’t have to be a hero to make a name for myself.

Fuck the system, I can do whatever the hell I want and get away with anything I want to. I’ll be on the front of every magazine, be the highlight of every news report, have entire articles about me, myself and I. Today, I was reborn as a different being. One that didn’t care what the media thought, and one who wasn’t fake, because I’m being true to my personal goals.

Because this is the real me, and this is who I want to be.

[degenerate-perturbation]

Chapters: 15/28 Fandom: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Female Amell/Female Surana Characters: Female Amell, Female Surana, Anders, Velanna, Nathaniel Howe, Oghren (Dragon Age), Justice (Dragon Age), Sigrun (Dragon Age), Varric Tethras, Isabela (Dragon Age), Male Hawke (Dragon Age) Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Self-Harm, Blood Magic, Prostitution Series: Part 2 of void and light, blood and spirit Summary: Amell and Surana are out of the Circle, and are now free to build a life together. But when the prison doors fly open, what do you have in common with the one shackled next to you, save for the chains that bound you both?

Yvanne spent some of her least pleasant hours yet in the hold of a Fereldan cog, feeling fresh new hells of nausea with every heave and sway of the ungainly vessel. Never had she been so tempted to use magic until that journey—if not to cure her nausea, then to at least induce catatonia until the trip was over. But the voyage turned out to be surprisingly short; the cog departed Highever in the late morning, and made port in Kirkwall the following evening. Yvanne had always imagined that any sea journey would be intolerably long—how could it not be? The sea in her imagination was an infinite uncrossable barrier. It seemed bizarre and unthinkable that a ship could cross it in a day.

 With the prospect of facing Kirkwall so much earlier than she anticipated, she found herself hesitating. Much as she’d ached to escape the ship in the past day, now she was loath to leave it. She peaked aboveboard to an unfamiliar sight.

 Nobody was paying attention to her. The sailors and dockworkers heaved and pulled to bring the cog to bear, and Yvanne, a mere passenger, was extraneous to this business. She went to the captain, a red-bearded dwarf whose name she had already forgotten, for answers. She suspected she’d overpaid for passage—the captain had been a little too eager to take the remainder of her money—but at least now was quite willing to answer her questions. She just wanted to know what this place was called.

 The Gallows, he told her. All ships that trade with Kirkwall were berthed here, apparently.

 The captain did not notice the change in her expression, the sudden chalkiness to her skin. The Gallows! She had only ever heard of this place in nightmare stories that older children liked to tell back in Kinloch. There had been a group of girls around thirteen who particularly liked to whisper about the horrible place that bad apprentices were sent if they misbehaved—      The Gallows.    Yvanne had always put on a show like she wasn’t afraid at all, although she was, because Loriel had been a year younger and absolutely  terrified,  and of course as the slightly older child it was Yvanne's duty to be strong for her—

 Yvanne was afraid now, despite herself. It wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to a mage, getting sent here. They could always kill you, or worse, make you Tranquil. But there were laws about that, flimsy as they were, that could protect you. If you were careful. If you passed your Harrowing. But they could always transfer you. They could always send you to the Gallows.

 Of course she had known they were here, but not that she would have to pass through them herself to enter the city. She imagined that Kirkwall's Circle would be sequestered somewhere that she would never have to look at, let alone go through. Suddenly she was overcome by the certainty that the Templars here—surely they had better Templars here, stronger ones with keener senses—would sniff out her magic at once, seize her and bind her there, and she would never be seen again.

 It was going to happen to her, all over again, just like when she was a little girl. Only this time she would be alone.

 No! It was too terrible a fate. She had to get out of here. She had to flee—

 No. The way back was closed. The only way onward was through.  Not least of all because she had no money left.

 She disembarked with her head high and chin forward. Strange how difficult it was now, to not seem afraid. When she had been a girl, afraid all the time, she had cloaked her fear in fury. Rage proved stronger than fear, enough so that she could afford to seem fearless.

 But that had never been true.

 Still, nobody seemed to notice. She approached the border guard—a Templar, she noted, with dread that she forced to disdain. Where was the city guard?

 The sandy-haired pockmarked young man boredly read a set of questions from a parchment.

 “Name?”

 “Havela Brightgrass,” Yvanne said, easily enough.

 “Business?”

 “Visiting family.”

 “Have you any goods to declare?”

 Yvanne raised her arms, gesturing to herself. “I’m clearly carrying nothing.”

 The young man repeated in the same exact tone, “Have you any goods to declare?”

 “No.”

 “Alright. Go on, then. Enjoy Kirkwall, and all that.” And he moved aside to let her through.

 “That’s it? You’re just going to let me in?"

 “You complaining?”

 “No, I just...that’s it?”

 “Used to be more, when there were all the refugees from Ferelden,” he remarked, “But that’s slowed down these past few years.”

 “Oh.”      Refugees?    From the Blight. Of course. It had never occurred to her that would have been refugees out of Ferelden. What else had simply never occurred to her?

 From the Gallows a ferry took her to Kirkwall proper. From on high the wailing faces of the stone slaves loomed over her. A chill went through her. What was she      doing    here? This was a city of nightmares, and she had foolishly sailed right into it.

 She looked back at the Gallows, disappearing into the mists, and found herself thinking of Anders. Had he come here, after what he’d done? Had he tried to find Karl? Or had he lost too much of himself to remember that he’d ever loved at all?

 She hoped he hadn’t. He hoped he’d come here and found his lover, and broken him out, and that they were on the run together even now, somewhere in the wilderness. Maybe living in a secluded cottage, unbothered by the rest of the world. It was rather unlikely. Probably Karl would stay and rot here forever—you didn’t come      out    of the Gallows. He was probably still in there. Probably Anders had never even come to Kirkwall, whatever his earlier youthful intentions. Probably Anders was a slavering abomination somewhere in the woods now, if he was even still alive.

 But it was a pleasant thought to think, so she thought it. Anders deserved to be happy, whatever he was now, because Yvanne doubted she would ever be happy again, and it was only fair that one of the two of them manage it.

 Soon enough the Gallows were miraculously behind her, and the part of Kirkwall known as Lowtown swam into view.

 So Yvanne entered the city of her birth.

 She remembered some of it. Not much, but more than nothing. She hadn’t yet been born when her oldest sister had been taken by the Templars; the only remnant of her was Yvanne’s listless, melancholy mother. They’d had a home here. There had been an inner courtyard with a garden. Revka Amell had liked to sit in it.  And then there had been more trouble in the family, more deaths, debts, dealings with criminals, and then Revka Amell had simply disappeared, and what remained of her family fled Kirkwall to live as nameless townies in Ferelden.

 Disembarking from the ferry, Yvanne inhaled. Her city. She could almost remember the smell of it.

     What a shithole,    she thought.

 Kirkwall’s Lowtown was different from Highever. Highever had felt colorful and interesting and bright, not so big that it would be overwhelming, but big enough to get lost in. This city felt...grungy. The way some men looked at her made her glad that she no longer had any jewelry to attract attention with.

     Now    what was she supposed to do?

 She had a vague plan to find this legendary Lord Amell, and then she would...what? What would she say?      ‘Hello, conditional on you being the real Lord Amell, and real in the first place, I think I might be your cousin. Can I live in your house?’  

 Ridiculous. Why had she even come here? To rediscover her past? To understand her history? To find her family? It had all seemed so perfectly obvious in Highever, when her choice was either to come here or sell herself to a brothel. Now it felt childish and absurd. She had left her home country to come to this horrible city of chains, and for what?

 The heavy darkness settled in her chest again. How could she possibly have been so stupid?

 All she wanted was to lay down in the gutter and wait for filth to drown her. But she’d come here to find Lord Amell. She could at least try to do that. He probably wasn’t even really her cousin. This was probably all a ridiculous farce. But if she succeeded—he would take one look and laugh in her face, and slam the door for good measure. And      then    she would lay down in the gutter and wait for filth to drown her.

 But first she would try.

 —

 Asking anyone for anything in the great city of Kirkwall turned out to be an enormous waste of time. She must have mouthed the phrase, ‘Where can I find Lord Amell?’ over a hundred times that day, and for what? Most people simply acted as though they hadn’t heard her. Others grunted ‘Never heard of him’ and hurried past before she could ask how that could be the case, seeing as the Amells were supposed to be one of the most powerful families in Kirkwall. Some others demanded why she wanted to know, or would ask her what the information was worth to her. Less encouragingly, some people told her that there was no such person as Lord Amell, but if she wanted to talk to Hawke, he was the one currently living at the old Amell estate.

 Who the hell was Hawke? And what the hell was he doing in      her    family’s ancestral estate? Who did he think he was? It was seeming more and more likely that Lord Amell was a fictitious person, and that she’d wasted the last of her money to come to this awful city for nothing.

 Even if Lord Amell existed, she doubted she’d ever be able to find him. Kirkwall’s streets were so tangled she didn’t see how anybody got along in them. It seemed like every turn she made sent her into a completely different quarter of the city, and when she tried to backtrack, it was as though the streets shifted of their own accord, as though under the influence of a malevolent mage. Most probably she was just getting lost in an unfamiliar city, but she preferred to blame dark, unwholesome magic.

 By the time she finally gave up—when she noticed herself standing outside a pub—she was exhausted and already fully sick of Kirkwall. She hated its sandy walls and crooked streets and rancid smell. No wonder her mother had fled this place and her father soon after. Nobody should live here.

 The pub was called the Hanged Man. Now that was encouraging, she thought sourly, and pushed open the doors.

 Inside she wasn’t sure if it smelled of piss or of sour ale, but was past the point of caring. She leaned against the counter, eyeing the crowd for lonely looking men. She didn’t have to eye for long. She couldn’t have been standing not-obviously-engaged for more than a few minutes when a bald fellow and a potbelly came up to the counter, placed his hand on the small of her back, and demanded that Corff bring a round of ale 'for the lady.' She let his hand stay where it was. She wanted that drink.

 The bald man was doing the usual routine, asking for her name, what she was doing here alone, and so on. Yvanne was answering mechanically, trying to drink fast enough that he’d get the bright idea to buy her another ale before getting bored (or angry) at her reticence and giving up. She wasn’t so sure about this one. Nobody had ever tried to take her by force--but if they ever did, she would end up exposing herself as a mage, and that would cause her no end of trouble.

 But she was barely halfway through her prize when they were interrupted by the most outlandish woman Yvanne had ever seen in her life.

 “And how do you know her, then?” said the woman. Yvanne struggled not to stare. The woman was dressed mostly in leather and gold and scraps of blue silk. She had not yet drawn any of the innumerable daggers visible on her person, and didn’t seem any less dangerous for it.

 The bald man stammered something, made an excuse, and left without so much as a by-your-leave.

 “What in the void did you do that for?” Yvanne demanded. “He was buying my ales.”

 “Sorry about that, sweet thing,” said the dagger woman, smiling. It was not exactly a pleasant smile, but the woman didn't look like she had the capacity for pleasant smiles. Maybe this was as close as she got. “There’s rough men about these parts. You should be careful.”

 “I know what I’m doing,” Yvanne snapped.

 The woman arched an eyebrow. “Do you? My mistake, then. Shows what I get for trying to rescue a stray...”

 “      Stray?”      Yvanne   squawked. “You--”

 “Hey now, what’s going on here?” Yvanne turned to look at the source of the new voice, saw no one, and then looked down. The person who had spoken was a dwarf, although he looked nothing like any other dwarf Yvanne had ever seen.

 The woman rolled her eyes. “Nothing. She knows what she’s doing, apparently. Get another round for the table, would you? I paid last time.” She jingled as she walked away. Yvanne threw the back of her head a dirty look as she did.

 The dwarf sized her up, scratching his hairless chin. “What did you say your name was?”

 “I didn’t,” Yvanne said. “It’s Havela Brightgrass.”

 “Brightgrass, huh? That’s an interesting name. And mine is Varric, Varric Tethras. I make it a point to acquaint myself with interesting persons around Kirkwall, as a man about town. I'm a local merchant, and a very famous author. Maybe you’ve heard of me?

 “Sure,” she said, already forgetting his name. “Maybe I have.”

 The dwarf chuckled. “Listen, don’t mind Isabela. She didn’t mean to cause you any trouble. Trust me, if she’d meant to cause you trouble, you’d know.”

 Yvanne had noticed all the daggers. “I’ll bet.”

 “Hey, you’re not busy, are you? Come over and play a round of Wicked Grace. We need a fourth player and half our crew isn’t here. Not much of a game with only three.”

 “I don’t know how to play.”

 “It’s easy. I’ll show you. Come on—next round on me, since Isabela so rudely scared off your supplier.”

 “Fine,” Yvanne said, since the next round was on him. “Sure, I’ll play.”

 Isabela didn’t bother to conceal a slight roll of her eyes upon seeing Yvanne again so soon, but at least she didn’t say anything. She was talking to the other person at the table, a Dalish elf with a dreamy expression and a musical voice. She didn’t look much like—like      her,     but she was slight and dark-haired and elven, and that was enough to make Yvanne angry all over again.

 Varric made introductions just as the next round arrived, interleaving tips on how to play the game with pointed questions about who Yvanne was, where she’d come from, what she was doing in Kirkwall. Wicked Grace turned out to be a fairly simple betting game, but Yvanne was so distracted with keeping her story straight that she played terribly. It was a good thing she didn’t have any money to lose; she would have lost it all. But she still managed to lie about her life with practiced ease. As far as these people were concerned, she was Havela Brightgrass, a weaver’s daughter, rogue for hire, looking for work in Kirkwall but hailing from Wycome. Nobody but the dwarf—Varric—seemed particularly interested in her made-up story. Isabela hardly seemed to notice her at all, and the elf, Merrill, wasn’t very good at the game. She kept forgetting what the different cards meant, and Isabela had to keep leaning over to explain her hand to her.

 Varric kept buying rounds, and kept asking questions, so Yvanne kept playing, although she didn’t particularly like being around the three of them. They all knew each other, had clearly known each other for years—they kept referencing adventures they’d had together and mutual friends they shared. Every inside joke she didn’t understand only raised her hackles further, but every time she’d finally had enough and made to leave, Varric would ask her another question, or offer to buy her something, and she would end up staying for another hand.

 So it continued until a fifth person joined the table—one of the most unusual elves she’d ever seen. She wondered if he was Dalish, though she’d never seen hair like that before.

 “Hello, Fenris,” the other Dalish said politely.

 The newcomer—Fenris?—ignored her, and barely glanced at Yvanne. “Aveline not coming?” he grunted as he pulled up a chair and leaned his sword against the back of it.

 “She’s working,” said Varric. “Blondie’s busy in his clinic, too.”

 “Did I      ask    about the mage?” The elf rolled his eyes. “And I suppose we can’t count on Hawke.” Yvanne wasn’t exactly drunk, though far from sober, but she recognize the name. Wasn’t that the name of the person living at the Amell estate now? Did these people know that squatter?

 “He hasn’t been feeling well,” Merill said. “What with…” Then her eyes flicked to Yvanne and she cut herself off.

 This was about all Yvanne could take. “Alright, well, it looks like you no longer need a fourth player, so I’ll be on my way. Thanks.” She abandoned her cards and almost managed not to stumble on her way up.

 “Oh, come on—” she heard Varric begin to say, but before he could finish, she was out the door.

 Night had fallen while she’d been in the Hanged Man, flooding the darkened twisting streets of Kirkwall with specks of moonlight. She breathed the cool air deep and even. Being in that place, among those people who knew each other all so well, had been like poison. She had never felt so much like an outsider. Where were her Wardens now, how were Sigrun and Velanna? What strange places had Nathaniel found himself among? Was Oghren even still alive? How was his child? Was Garahel managing the Keep without her?  Who was taking care of them all?

 While she roiled in these dark thoughts, she failed to notice Varric approaching her again. “Hey, kid,” he said, startling her out of her thousand-league stare. “You alright?”

 “Yeah,” she said, “Fine.”

 “Good,” said the dwarf. “So now that we’re alone, how about you tell me your      real    story?”

 She stiffened. “What?”

 “Take it from one liar to another, kid--you’re not half-bad, but not nearly good enough.”

 She crossed her arms, glaring at him. “What exactly do you think you know about me?”

 “That you’re not from Wycome, for one thing. That was the biggest one—you’ve got a Fereldan accent, although a weird one. That tipped me off, and after that you couldn’t keep your story straight. Sometimes you had two brothers, sometimes three, and you kept messing up what your mother died of.”

 “Thanks for the tip,” she muttered. “What do you care, anyway?”

 “Like I said, I’m a modern man about town. I like to know who the interesting people are in my city, and you struck me as an interesting person. So tell you what—tell me who you really are and what you’re really doing in Kirkwall, and I’ll put you up for the night. Unless you’ve got somewhere to be?”

 “No,” she said ruefully. She had nowhere to be, and hadn’t for months. Meanwhile Varric’s manner was so pleasant and avuncular, like he was at any moment about to pat you on the shoulder and assure you that you’d be alright—it made her      want    to tell him everything.

 She wouldn’t, of course. She wasn’t crazy. But she could tell him some things.

 “Okay, fine,” she said. “Yes, I’m from Ferelden. I’m here because I’m looking for Lord Amell.”

 Varric raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what dealings do you have with such an august personage?”

 “None of your business,” she snapped.

 He shrugged. “Maybe not, although I make it my business to know everybody else's. But if you want me to tell you where to find him…”

 “I...fine.” She swallowed. She didn’t know why this was so hard. “I’m looking for him because—because I'm an Amell, too. I think I’m his cousin.” Embarrassing, the way the stumbled over the admission. “But he probably doesn’t even exist. The rumors I’ve heard—ridiculous.”

 “Oho, he exists alright,” said Varric. “You can be sure of that. He’s actually a friend of mine.”

 The fact that Varric had so recently described himself as a liar did little to convince Yvanne that this was true.

 “Now, nobody going by the title 'Lord Amell' still lives in Kirkwall—unless you want old Gamlen, and I doubt you do. You want Hawke. He's the son of Leandra Amell. Technically he’s Lord Amell now, though he doesn’t like to be reminded of it. You’ll find him in Hightown.”

 “Oh.”

 “You know what the Amell crest looks like?” She didn’t. Varric scribbled a symbol on a piece of parchment. “Like that. Keep it, go on. It’ll be the big house with that crest on the lintel. You could probably go over there now; I’d bet my beard he’s still up, and he’d love to meet a cousin. You know, assuming you aren’t just an opportunistic fraudster or something. And hey, even if you are, Hawke’s always taking in wayward souls.”

 “You don’t have a beard.”      And I’m not a wayward soul,    she meant to add, although she was, wasn't she?

 “That’s the whole trick, isn’t it?” He grinned.

 Yvanne looked at the parchment with the crudely drawn crest on it. Her family’s crest. What did it say about her that it wasn’t even a bit familiar to her? “I...thanks.” She hesitated. “What’s he like? Hawke, I mean.”

 “Great guy. You’ll love him. All the rumors you’ve heard? Absolutely true.”

 “Right. Sure.” She wasn’t sure if he was kidding—and what it meant if he wasn’t. “Which way to Hightown?”

 —

 She only got lost three times trying to find Hightown, during which time it began to rain. But at least when she finally made it up the broad stairs to the half-decent part of the city, getting around was easier. There were fewer houses, at least.

 Finally she found the one bearing the Amell crest, a pair of birds perched on an austere collection of lines. Flickering, warm yellow light poured out from the windows of the enormous house. There could be no doubt about it; this was the Amell estate, and Lord Amell—Hawke—was home.

 Suddenly the feeling that this had all been a terrible idea overwhelmed her. What would Hawke possibly think of her, bedraggled, dripping wet, and flat broke, with nothing but her honest word that her name was Amell? He would laugh in her face. No, worse—he would be angry. He would think she was a liar and a fraud. He would call the city guard and have them arrest her, and they’d turn her over to the Templars and she’d be sent to the Gallows—

 With trepidation rising so fast it threatened to stop her hand in mid-air, she raised her fist and knocked.

 The door opened. It took everything she had in her not to jump. Light poured from within onto the rainsoaked street, revealing a gawky elven teenage girl.

 “You’re not Hawke,” Yvanne blurted stupidly.

 The elf girl shook her head. “No, ma’am. But this is his estate. Can I help you?”

 “I, um, need to speak to him. About a private matter. Assuming he’s alright with being disturbed—of course, it’s very late, I can come back tomorrow—or not at all! You know what, I’d honestly better be on my way—”

 “I’ll fetch him right away,” the elf girl said, and disappeared back inside the house.

 It couldn’t have been more than a minute between the elf girl’s departure, and the sound of muffled voices and approaching footsteps. But it may well have been a full eternity.

 At least the landing of the Amell estate was shielded from the rain.

 The door opened again, and the terror seized Yvanne completely, rooting her to the spot.

 Hawke stood half-hidden behind the heavy oaken door. His puffy eyes were bloodshot, his dark hair unkempt. He wore nothing but a stained maroon house robe.

 “—Isabela, I told you, I’m just not feeling up to Wicked Grace tonight—oh!” He blinked at her, straightening and awkwardly adjusting his robe. “You’re not Isabela. I’m very sorry, I thought...well, nevermind what I thought. Can I help you? Do you need something?”

 “I...uh…”

 He didn’t look much like her. Light-skinned, straight-haired, tall and broad-shouldered like the stories said, but somehow shrunken in on himself, as though he were hiding. They couldn’t possibly be related. There was no connection between them. This whole idea was idiotic, farcical, she ought to leave immediately—

 “My name is Yvanne Amell,” she said. “I’m the daughter of Revka Amell. And I think...I might be your cousin?”

 He stared at her. His arms dropped to his sides, and the door to the estate hung fully open.

 “My cousin?” he said as though struck over the head with a frying pan from behind a blind corner.

 “I know it’s very late,” she said, stumbling over her tongue. “I can come back tomorrow—or not at all—”

 Suddenly she found herself being firmly held by the shoulders, her escape prevented. Hawke was looking at her in astonishment. There was mist in his eyes.

 “Please,” he said, “ please,  come in.”

[rebellect-writes]

[SIZE=1][b]Name:[/b] Jess. [b]Age:[/b] 21. [b]How did you find us?:[/b] Well, you see. You found me!

[align=center] [color=WHITE]Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. -- [b]Edgar Allan Poe[/b] "The Raven"[/SIZE][/color] [IMG]http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lilkhvalW01qzozmk.gif[/IMG] [color=WHITE]Tell me would you kill to save for a life? Tell me would you kill to prove you're right? Crash, crash, burn let it all burn. This hurricane chasing us all underground.[/color] [/align]

[b]Name:[/b] Fallon. [b]Nicknames & Aliases:[/b] [LIST]Fall; He’ll acknowledge you if you’re not being funny. Autumn; He may change his hair colour a lot but that will get you smacked. Sadistic; Why thank you! Lust; No, he’s not a chick even if he wears guy-liner. [/LIST][b]True Age:[/b] 3004 [b]What He Says:[/b] 1018 [b]Date of Birth:[/b] December 26th [b]Age at Death:[/b] 30 [b]Gender:[/b] Male. [b]Sexual Orientation:[/b] Bisexual, though guys are more his thing. [b]Occupation:[/b] Owns his own theatre plus company, sometimes steps in at Club Hell to help Noah.

[b]Bloodline:[/b] Belle Morte. [b]Power Level:[/b] Master. [b]Mind-Set:[/b] Dominant unless submissive suits the situation. [b]Animal to Call:[/b] Wolves. [b]Powers:[/b] [b]Standard Vampire powers:[/b] Like all vampires, Fallon’s got heightened physical strength and he has steel like grip. He could send a human flying with a slightest touch and like the newly dead, he’s capable of lifting a small car with ease. He’s also very fast, more than capable from switching from a death like stillness to a speed that’s perceived faster than the human eye can follow since he can cloud people’s minds. It’s like as if he vanishes at will! His senses are pretty spot on, Fallon can smell a human’s emotional state, and to some degree, he can taste weaker shifters or vampires and his hearing? Well, he can hear a whispered comment from the other side of the house. With his age, Fallon can disguise himself and appear mortal, but unlike a human, he can switch from being a completely animated being to something that is still, expressionless and silent. The last thing of note is that he’s extremely difficult to harm like most of the older vampires and wounds made from heavy objects, and even bullets, heal with moments even though it hurts like hell he doesn’t let it show.

[b]Feeding Via Mind:[/b] Now, this is a tricky thing for him to do since the human mind is complex. He has to touch people to do this, skin to skin, for it to work and he can only enter a person’s mind to feed from their more promiscuous thoughts and deepest fantasies. He can’t sustain himself on this for long, maybe a day or two extra, but he can use it to hold back the ardeur and the blood hunger. To avoid doing this often, Fallon takes precautions and wears a pair of leather gloves.

[b]Empathic Voice Manipulation:[/b] Fallon can use his voice to bring out the better aspects in peoples moods. He thinks of it more as a mental power than something actually physical because he doesn’t have to touch someone when he uses it, however it still gives off a physical sensation at times to the people he uses it on. In his mind, it’s supposedly like rolling a victim. They want to stay and listen to him, even if they wouldn’t normally do it or despise him. He's only ever really used this power on his wolf, Jesse.

[b]The Ardeur:[/b] Fallon is an incubus, and one of Bella Morte’s special little boys and girls. The most basic way to describe it is that anyone under its thrall is gripped by the intense desire to have sexual intercourse with the user or the closest person to them despite their general preferences. This power’s truly frightening because the Ardeur drains the energy from those it feeds on and can potentially drain a person to the point of death, so incubi and succubi have more than one general lover if they want to feed correctly.

[b]Animal/Human Servant Creation:[/b] In theory, Fallon could take a human on as a servant as well, outside of his animal servant Jesse Harley. Basically, this power allows Fallon to magically bind someone to him, making said servants greater resistance to injury and mental powers and almost complete immunity to his own power (first mark). It also allows him to draw power from his servant and experience what they eat and drink, and even enter their dreams (second mark). He has to take some of the servants blood, but by doing so, it conveys increased healing powers, immunity to poisons and allows him and his servant to communicate mentally (third mark). After that, it’s just a matter of getting his servant to drink his blood and he can make them immortal like him, it also gives them a bond of almost complete mental communication and allows the servant to draw on Fallon’s strength (fourth mark). However, should his servant die, Fallon’s would be metaphysically crippled and most likely go insane since he’s old enough to survive the death. [b]Rank:[/b] Témoin

[b]Face Claim:[/b] Jared Leto. [b]Description:[/b] [IMG]http://images.sugarscape.com/userfiles/image/july/0707jared2.jpg[/IMG] [i]Height:[/i] 5’10. [i]Weight:[/i] 166lbs. [i]Eyes:[/i] Blue. A very distracting blue. [i]Hair:[/i] Naturally, brown and stays brown. Unless he dyes it a different colour for fun! (and 6 months out of 12, it’s one colour or another.) [i]Build:[/i] Very lean, almost to the point he looks underweight but that’s a lie. [i]Visible marks:[/i] He has two tattoos, one on the inside of his wrist in Latin with a quote he forgot years ago, and the other ( a small triad ) on his collar bone. [i]Style:[/i] Normally loose clothes, grungy punk like clothes. Beaded bracelets, necklaces and so on. He can wear suits, if he does though that’s another story since they make him feel confined. He’ll wear them though, if the occasion calls for it and keep the complaining to a minimum.

[b]Special Skills:[/b] [LIST] [*] Can speak French, Romanian, Spanish and Italian. Oh! And sarcasm. [*] He can appear human, unlike newer vampires. [*] Since he’s second in command of Jackford, he does actually have a network of spies and snitches at his finger tips that he uses when he has to. He’s built this up over the years, so in a way it’s a special skill, because he uses it to keep Noah updated and the Kiss one step ahead of things most of the time. [*] It isn't really a special skill, but he prides himself on not being power hungry. [/LIST][b]Personality:[/b][LIST]Fallon is just a giant ball of multicolours. No, seriously, his hair isn’t the only thing that changes. Normally, he’s an ok kind of guy that doesn’t go out of his way to annoy people too much. He likes to help people out and offer them a shoulder to cry on or wall to bounce ideas off. He’ll give advice where it’s due, even if he’s stepping on toes or going to piss someone off, if he feels the need to say it then he will. He’ll always try and apologize afterwards, but he’s Old World, so sometimes things don’t click right despite being fairly modern. What most people don’t notice, and sometimes Fallon doesn’t either, is that he gets bored easily and he acts out, heck the only people that probably would notice one of his acting out fazes are his brother, cousin or Jesse because he goes beyond the typical theatrical, creative and eccentric, he strays into maliciousness. He’s a bit of a charmer when he’s not being a whacky nut case that should be locked away for societies own wellbeing. Fallon’s loyal and backs up any threats and promises, if he says that he’ll do something then he will do it, even if it makes him squirm and whinge like a kicked puppy.

With his vast age, Fallon’s adopted a slightly twisted perspective on vampires and other supernatural. He comes from a time when they were monsters and did drop bodies where they could be found by others then slaughter others. He’s also well versed in the way many Kisses are run. Masters of the City are treated with the utmost respect, and he would give his life if it was what his “master” would want. Masters within the Kiss don’t get instant respect either; if they’re not strong enough then they have to earn it. In a dog eat dog world, its sink or swim baby. Lower Kiss and fledglings jump when he tells them too…Or at least that used to be the way. Fallon treats the Kiss like extended family, they have their ups and their downs but at the end of the day they’re not that dysfunctional. That doesn’t mean he’ll put up with blatant endangerment of his family. If it’s for the better good of all, he will stop people by any means appropriate and has at times locked vampires away in coffins and forgotten about them, or simply ripped their hearts out. He hasn’t held the position of second in command by only being a funny bastard; he has his ruthless streak well hidden as it may be.

While he’s been in Jackford, he’s made it his job to be friends with all the local werewolves where he can and provide them with an alley should they need it. He’s only ever once called the wolves of Jackford without their permission and he won’t do it again. Those he call come to him willingly or not at all. It’s the same with any partners he has as force is very distasteful. No one in this life time has seen Fallon at his worst. Sure, he has his moments where he withdraws from the world and appears bored with what’s going on around him and with what’s going on in his life, but I’m not talking about a depressive vampire. The anger in him is deep, and it’s destructive and in some ways protective because he does rant and he does rave and he does lash out normally in his head these days and prays that he never needs to get violent properly. [/LIST][b]Likes:[/b] [LIST] [*] Playing video games with Jesse. [*] When there’s no trouble for the Kiss. Running around like chickens is annoying. [*] Riding his bike through the city. Screw your cars! [*] Shopping in person, though he’ll never own up to it when he does it online. [*] When it snows. [*] Swimming. [*] Protecting the Kiss. He wouldn’t be second in command of the city if he didn’t. [*] Tormenting Jesse on their [i]movie nights[/i]. [*] Writing poems, short stories, you name it. [*] Playing the guitar, that’s something only Jesse and Noah know about. [/LIST][b]Dislikes:[/b] [LIST] [*] Religious talk. Followed by the words "vampires have no souls." [*] Getting blood on his favourite clothes. It’s hell to get it out.   [*] When Jesse gets into trouble and doesn’t tell him straight away. [*] Fighting with Noah. [*] Jesse disobeying him in some form or another. [*] Silence. He has to have a little noise around him otherwise his mind wanders. [*] People underestimating the Kiss. [*] People that try and hurt his wolf. [*] Getting blood on his clothes. [*] Having to make an example of someone. [/LIST][b]Strengths:[/b][LIST] [*] Goes to great lengths to make friends with the wolves before calling any. [*] Jesse makes him look at the world a whole new way again. [*] Is brutally honest when he needs to be. Suck it up, princess! [*] He’s pretty intelligent, even if he does look like a typical punk.   [*] His brother. Enough said on that matter. [*] Can and will walk into a church, much to the surprise of many. What? He’s fine as long as there’s no flaming crosses or bible toting idiots. [*] Patience of a saint, it must be said. When things look rough, he’ll look for other options. [/LIST][b]Weaknesses:[/b][LIST] [*] Having to be invited into a home. [*] Holy symbols. [*] Jesse Harley. Hurt the pet and you hurt the Master. [*] His older brother Noah. [*] He has to feed the Ardeur or risk it getting out of control and no one wants that. [*] Has a habit of running his mouth off at times. [*] Likes blood a little too much. [/LIST][b]Fears:[/b][LIST] [*] Small spaces. He can deal for a little while but not long time frames. He feared them as a human and it has carried over as a vampire. [*] Seeing Jesse hurt and being unable to help him, he wouldn’t know what to do if he didn’t have his wolf around. [*] Noah's temper or Jaspers. He fears that in a big way like any baby brother/cousin would. [*] Being starved from touch again. [/LIST][b]History:[/b][LIST]Seven years after the birth of Noah, during a particularly rough winter, Fallon was brought into the world kicking like any normal babe to be welcomed by his older brother Noah and his father as his mother lay exhausted. His mother knew something was different about her second son; womanly intuition of course, brought on by the fact Fallon was quiet as a babe. Her first son and her husband didn’t seem to notice it, so she didn’t mention it to anyone. From the moment that Fallon could walk on his own two feet, his brother was teaching him all kinds of things as well as his parents. They were growing old; they wanted both of their boys to survive in the harsh life that had been given to them and in less than six years Fallon and Noah were left orphans as their parents passed on. Noah tried at first to make things work, he took up the responsibilities afforded to a man and Fallon tried his hardest too help, even at such a young age. Eventually the local story teller Alaric’s wife came and helped, and then the rest of the settlement rather than see the boys waste away since they had no other blood kin close to hand.

When he was ten, Fallon was left in the care of the story teller and his wife as Noah went off to fight for the clan and settlement with other young men. As much as he hated it, he couldn’t blame Noah much but he did feel abandoned. For most of his life Noah was the only constant in his life, and to be left with strangers that some in the settlement considered mad was a little…scary. After the first few weeks though, he was fine and Noah was the last thing on his mind. Up at dawn he would go hunting with the story teller while his wife kept the house and small farm that they had and they’d go into the woods to hunt birds and the like and every day Fallon was told a different story about Gods and Goddesses, demons and all kinds of great and wonderful things. He was also taught how to shoot a bow and arrow over the nine years he spent with them, he was also taught to hunt and forage in the woods and the land around them, and every night when he lay down to sleep he no longer thought about Noah like he had when he had when he’d been younger.

Nine years later and Noah stumbled back into the settlement. Fallon wasn’t the first to great him as he’d been out fishing at the time, but when he found out that his brother was back, he raced back. Only, things weren’t as they were. Before he embraced his brother, Fallon hesitated for a moment and he knew that Noah noticed it because his brother had to clear his throat to get Fallon to even move forward that last few steps. There was just something different about Noah that he didn’t like and yet he couldn’t explain it. So instead he pushed it aside and embraced his brother and tried to summon up the elation that he just couldn’t feel. Yes, he was happy that Noah had returned alive and whole, but it was the joy of having a warrior return from battle and not that of a baby brother. Maybe it was because Noah didn’t seem that enthused to see him or it was the fact that the entire settlement had hounded him. So, after a quick hug and a ‘I’ll see you later’, Fallon slunk off with his tail between his legs in no mood for the celebration.

Over the following years, the brothers tried to reconnect, they really did. Fallon showed him everything that he had learnt but Noah seemed to always find something to pick and poke at while fending off the women folk that wanted to hear tales of the war and offers from wealthier travellers that wanted a mercenary. Every time Noah poked, Fallon snapped, every time he prodded, Fallon hissed until eventually he just took off and left Noah to the mercy of the villagers.  Alaric’s wife, Ava, tried to get the brothers to bond but to no good, and they got in to enough fights both verbal and physical that on occasions Fallon was left with a bloodied lip or black eye and Noah was left with another dent in his conscious. Fallon may’ve been good with a hunting knife or a bow, but his brother was deadly with or without weapons so Fallon never fought back. So in the end both brothers were left sitting on opposite sides of a chasm that only seemed to get wider and wider and ultimately led to Fallon’s mounting frustration and anger, even Old Alaric called him up on that a time or two when it cost them a night’s dinner.

Old Alaric died two years later, just after Fallon’s twenty sixth birthdays. Ava had passed the previous autumn before and it was the only reason that had Fallon alone on the coast watching a pyre burn rather than finding out about the war in the south. It was then he decided that he really wanted to make things up with Noah. He returned to the settlement too late, apparently his brother and the other warriors had gone that morning. Rather that race after them like an idiot, Fallon retreated to the old shack that had been his home for years with Alaric and Ava and broke down. He screamed and he raged and he prayed that his brother would return again, just one last time, but he never did. It was only then he realized how stupid he’d been for letting the gap between him and Noah stay so wide.

Noah never returned.

It was six months before he really gathered himself together to carry on with things. He became the story teller for the village like Alaric had been before him. He told the children stories that defied all possible imagination while the adults got on with things. After about a year and a half though, things got a little hectic. A very bad harvest had left the settlement running low on food and to make matters worse they’d gotten word of a small wolf pack that had been scavenging to close for anyone’s comfort. When the first body turned up and it was decided by the head of the settlement that they needed to do something about the wolves, when Fallon saw no one volunteering, he offered to go out and hunt the pack down. He was given a horse, supplies enough for a week if he stretched them, and sent on his way. Of course he wasn’t stupid and he didn’t really trust the villagers much, more so the so called leader that should’ve gone off with his damned warriors to war. He stopped by his home to retrieve what he would need, his bow was better than any dagger.

Setting out properly this time, he tracked the animals for a week before setting up a trap far enough away from the village that no one would be bothered by it. Rather than taking the wolves on all at one time he settled into picking them off, one or two over the space of a few days, then another few weeks would pass before he would take more out disrupting their routine and scaring them away from villages they even looked towards for their next meal. Eventually however, he got them  all and returned home with the wolf pelts almost a full year later. It was a bit of a shock to find that the settlement had changed so much, so many of the elders had passed on and the leadership had shifted to a new generation. One that Fallon knew all too well. Abner, son of Esca; One of the other boys that had missed out on the last war had taken over the headship to allow his father some peace through his final days. Fallon wasn’t allowed to approach the old leader directly and when he brought his ‘case’ to Abner, the other male dismissed him. Called him mad, said he’d made a pact with the devil because no one would’ve been able to kill a pack of wolves alone. Rather than accept or deny, Fallon dumped the wolf pelts at the man’s feet before walking away as Abner made it a law before everyone that he should be shunned. Any help of any kind would be met with a punishment and so on and so forth, Fallon didn’t catch the end of it. He did work out what was happening though about fortnight later when no one would look at him, trade, and talk or even walk by him without warding themselves.

It hurt Fallon to his core because of what he and his family had done for the village, but he was determined to weather the bad patch. Only it was a bit longer than any patch, for six full years passed and he was alone through it all. Starved of touch and conversation, Fallon withdrew into a hermit like lifestyle living in the village so to speak but not a part of it. Then the strangest thing happened, after returning from a fishing trip on the coast, Fallon almost walked smack bang into his brother. His dead ice cold to the touch brother. Naturally he gaped like a caught fish before bolting for his home leaving Noah standing there like a statue. He must have been mad! For the next two nights he was scared to close his eyes and stayed locked away in his home and then on the third night Noah banged on his door asking to come in. Rather than have an argument with his dead brother, Fallon invited him in…and fainted.

The following night Noah walked right in and Fallon didn’t even flinch but kicked out a seat from his table and going back to his stew. Since he believed he was mad at the time, Fallon happily listened to what Noah had to tell him for the next few weeks. Fairies were real? Could’ve fooled him! People changed into animals? Get out of here! Noah had been turned into the undead on the battlefield by the Lord Fallon had seen with him weeks previous….No, seriously, get out demon. Fallon snapped and the brotherly fight lasted for weeks before either one of them were calm again to sit in the same room without threats of impalement of some kind, and not once did Fallon tell his brother what had happened in the village to cause him to live like a hermit. He didn’t mark the year passing, but he did try his damnedest to try and fix things with Noah despite his frustration and then one night – exactly a year to the day – he met Master Mikhail. Noah was powerless to do anything as the old Master vampire deep rolled Fallon and tore into his throat.

Sometime later, Fallon woke up starving with fangs in his mouth. Naturally he panicked because he was no longer in his home and he was out of his element. Noah caught him before he could bolt anywhere and tried to explain things before Mikhail came to them. Apparently Mik had grown impatient and turned Fallon and now Fallon would live forever if he fed on the life blood of the living. Gods be damned! If Noah hadn’t already been dead, Fallon would have throttled him or Mikhail. Since he didn’t trust Mikhail as far as he could throw him, Fallon stuck to his brother’s side as the Master told him what was going to happen next and if he didn’t stop hissing and spitting like an annoyed kitten then he could easily die the true death. Rather than argue, Fallon accepted his fate and in a roundabout way, thought of it as a way to see if the old stories Alaric had told him were true. It didn’t stop him from cringing and whimpering when Noah and Mikhail showed him how to feed, and yet again another argument erupted between the brothers that left Mikhail ordering Noah away for the evening while Fallon stayed with Mikhail. He probably would have been scared by his brothers parting words “No, Master Mikhail. You won’t use him.” But he wasn’t. He found it exciting, almost as exhilarating as the rush of blood he’d taken from the girl they’d gotten him. Truth be told, he’d never liked any of the girls in their village because they were stuck up.

He should’ve been humiliated by the actions he took with his master but he wasn’t at all. In fact it was the first he’d really felt in years after having been starved of touch. It also explained why when Noah and Jasper had pushed girls towards him growing up, Fallon had sent them away. He wasn’t a virgin by any means, but it wasn’t something that he’d broadcasted in life. For once in a long time he was happy and content, and in a way it opened himself up to all kinds of guilty pleasures. While he learned to control his new instincts, Mikhail would use him when Noah misbehaved, and when Fallon misbehaved, he would use Noah. Both fledglings learned fast that their ‘father’ wouldn’t be swayed by a honeyed tongue and sweet actions eithers.

Centuries came and went and they travelled all over the world, and then one day Noah reached his Masterhood and the attention shifted from the two of them to Noah. Fallon was jealous and he hid it be slinking off more and more on his own and risked his neck more times than he could count. His brother was only six hundred and forty seven years old! Why couldn’t he have new powers as well? Oh yeah, he sulked. Mikhail snapped one evening and threw him in a coffin while Noah was away for an evening. The sulking turned to panic and out right fear. Being trapped in a box reduced him to nothing within hours and when Noah tore through it, Fallon clung to his brother and cried his eyes out for all he was worth. Fallon didn’t blame Mikhail at the end of the day, he hadn’t told anyone about his claustrophobia ever thinking it humiliating enough, but it was a good century before he felt truly comfortable about his maker again.

More time passed and as Fallon approached his seven hundredth and eleventh year as a vampire, something happened that changed him. Something clicked inside his head, he could feel werewolves and without knowing what he was doing he called the local pack to him. However that wasn’t the only thing that clicked in him, the Ardeur. Unbeknown to him, Noah and Mikhail had gotten into a little trouble with the church and Mikhail was using Fallon as a proxy to feed from. The pack wolves that came were sent into a lust induced frenzy and Fallon was in the centre of it and enjoying every moment. It wasn’t until a few evening safter that he found out one of the wolves that had come had been barely fifteen years old, shocked by that revolution, he waited patiently for his maker and brother to return, still riding the high from the new powers and feeding. Mikhail and Noah were just as surprised as he was when they came back. It was nice…

And then six hundred years later the nice changed. Fallon had grown bored living in his brother’s shadow as well as Mikhail’s and asked if he could leave, after asking his brother of course. Mikhail granted his wish and the brothers said good bye but promised to stay in touch. One thousand and three hundred years old and it was safe to say he’d learnt a lot in his time. He’d gotten a hold of his master powers, fed his incubus side on a regular basis so there’d never be a mistake again with the teenage wolf from when they first showed. He eventually settled in Coventry at age two thousand one hundred, but he hid his powers from the Mistress that accepted him into her Kiss. Morgana was an interesting woman, he’d been drawn to her beauty and she’d been drawn to his bloodline powers. He was her personal toy for the next five hundred years, he jumped when she said so, he started to plot her downfall when she personally tore into a werewolf and rather than letting the poor shapeshifter die, Morgana infected it with her corrupting bite. He was forced to watch as the young boy – barely eighteen – rotted to death in slow agony on the floor because she’d been insulted by the shirt he’d worn. When she’d been lulled into a false sense of security and had had enough of Fallon, she traded him away for something new. Little did she know that he’d given the Temion of her kiss the keys to take her down and the last thing he heard from Morgana or anyone within the Coventry Kiss was that the manor house had gone up in flames.

Oh well. Jackford was interesting enough, even though he’d been ‘gifted’ to the Master of the City at the time to do with as he pleased. Luckily, Fallon won him over and fought his way to the top by wit, skill and sheer power once he was settled in. The Kiss from what he could tell was really new and finding its feet, so he used it to his advantage to get a hold on the city over the next five hundred years. The only interesting thing that tickled his fancy was meeting a werewolf in 2007 on the outskirts of the city. Fallon had been dealing with a rogue alpha that had been the companion of a vampire that had insulted a previous Master of the City and out of a misguided sense of comradeship, Jesse attacked him after Fallon had killed the other werewolf and Fallon had no option but to defend himself from the spirited pup’s mauling while nursing wounds from the other wolf. Jesse staggered off and Fallon traced him back to the Pack house, rather than leaving the wolf to stay unconscious on the kitchen floor Fallon took him back to his home outside of the Kiss manor and patched him up as much as best as he could. When Jesse woke up, he came back singing and Fallon unknowingly gave him the first mark as an animal servant as he taunted and teased the irritable wolf before explaining what had happened. Simple enough right? Right.

Jesse decided to stay with him as his willing blood donor the following year and Fallon was ecstatic. Then he got a call from someone he hadn’t heard of in a long time in early 2010. Mikhail wanted him to return to deal with some delicate werewolf issues for him. He was surprised because he’d thought that Mikhail would’ve known other wolf callers but apparently not anyone as experienced as he was. Shrugging off his curiosity, he bade Jesse fair well and slipped across the pond to New York. Trouble was an understatement, there were four packs fighting for one territory! Fallon was in New York for just under a year and counted down the days until he could get home, he even had a chance to drop by New Jersey and visit Noah for a few nights before him came home to find Jesse picking a fight in one of the local clubs. Then when the last Master of the City left Jackford, Fallon did the only thing he could as he was still wheeling from the trip and familiar faces, he called his Maker and got the promise that Jackford wouldn’t be without a Master for long.

A fortnight later his brother showed up. [/LIST]</span>

[wardencommanderrodimiss]

Had a dream last night where I was hanging out with Dmitri and Claude, and we had to go on a quest to save Claude because he had somehow become....mostly incorporeal? He wasn’t dead or a ghost or anything, but he also was not....strictly part of the physical world either. I think we could see him sometimes, and he wasn’t just living in my head, but he was definitely still linked to me in the way that wherever I went, he would be dragged along with me and couldn’t just wander off on his own.

We were first in this horribly grungy city that we were trying to escape from. It had all this very prison-like architecture, everything very stark and rectangular concrete, and lots of spotlights scanning the ground as we tried to sneak through. Our escape was assisted in part by the fact that I could fly, so if we were ever in a real bad jam I could just pick Dmitri up and fly away. (I do not know how he felt getting dragged around like a sack of potatoes, and though this was pre-timeskip, I still think it is better not to ask.)

When we got out of the city we were on this bridge that went for miles and miles into the distance. The bridge had two lanes and there was a strip of water in between them, and the water was pretty green and full of muck and algae. There were several half-sunken ships in the water, rotting away and covered in slime. We got too close to one of them and had to fight our way back out because it was full of zombies. My strategy was to use the shotgun I somehow had in this segment to try and blow enough holes in the hull of the ship to sink it, and the zombies with it. (I do not know if Dmitri also had a shotgun. I think, again, it is better not to ask.)

Eventually we could see where the bridge was taking us - on the other side we could see the tall lit-up buildings of a shining, beautiful city. I don’t actually remember much of what it was like once we got there. The most vivid image of it is it rising up on the horizon. But we must not have had any luck while we were there, and eventually we got so turned around and confused that we were back halfway across the bridge, the shitty concrete city we had originally left now lying ahead of us again.

But there were mountains between the bridges now, and when I was looking at them I saw a gap in the mountains that had some light shining up out of it like an aurora. It looked like that one mountain spring in Breath of the Wild where you can find the ethereal stag or whatever exactly it’s called. So I knew that was where I had to go, and I pointed it out to Dmitri, and he couldn’t see the gap in the mountains. It just looked like solid mountains to him. I didn’t get an answer as to why I could see it - might’ve been because Claude could see it and he and I had that mental link for whatever reason. 

So I grabbed Dmitri and flew us over there and when we landed it looked sort of like the Korok Forest - lots of big overhanging trees and twinkling lights, and while I remember it was very populated, I don’t remember by who or what. Could be koroks. Who knows. We were greeted by a woman who maybe was Zelda and maybe was Rhea? I don’t know. For as vivid as some of the scenes in this dream were, other stuff was just....so damn vague. Dreams, yknow? I woke up there, and I don’t actually know if we were able to help Claude or not.

The objectively funniest part of the dream was... I’m not sure where this scene happened, but chronologically it was before Claude lost touch with the physical world. He and Dmitri were playing a game of chess, and every one of Claude’s pieces that Dmitri captured, he was stacking up like a pile of logs, which was supposed to be a psychological gambit of “look at how much you’ve lost” but Claude wasn’t taking the game near as seriously and was just kind of riffing on the weird ways all the game pieces move. 

So after the game - I don’t know who won - Claude and Dmitri were walking through the monastery and some bishop of the Church of Seiros just walks by them and Claude is like “Hey, I thought bishops could only move diagonally” ;) and Dmitri just. inhales deeply. and sighs.

[mariahschoices]

One Night Out

This is a slightly AU TRR fanfic revolving around the night that MC met Liam, Drake, Maxwell, and Tariq. Characters and some dialogue have been borrowed from Pixelberry.

Pairing: MC (Riley Brooks) x Drake

Rating: NC17 / NSFW towards the end

Word count: 6,817

__________________________________________________________

Riley Brooks stared at her own reflection in the grungy, cracked bathroom mirror of the dive bar where she’d found herself working for the last two years. Her eyes were greeted with the image of the dark circles under her blue eyes, a half-hazard mess of brown hair that she’d flopped into a bun on top of her head, and what looked like a sliver of spinach from her salad at lunch that she’d hurriedly consumed between waiting tables. 

She picked the food out of her teeth, splashed her face, and stood up a little straighter. Her shift was almost over, and damn if she couldn’t accomplish something if she set her mind to it. She had a date scheduled with her bed tonight that she didn’t want to delay any further by wallowing around in the bathroom.

Riley reentered the main room, narrowly avoiding a collision with Daniel, her work husband and main confidant, with whom she could always bitch about their boss over double margaritas.

“Shit! Sorry, Riley,” he quickly apologized. “I was actually just looking for you!”

“Looks like you found me! What’s up, Daniel?” Riley asked, intrigued by Daniel’s sudden sense of urgency and nervous mannerisms, watching as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

“Actually, see, what I wanted was.... I kinda wanted to ask you... but I know you’re tired and you’ve worked a double as it is and....”

“Spit it out, Daniel. I think we know each other well enough at this point to be straight with one another? What’s up?” Riley questioned, becoming slightly more concerned with his erratic behavior.

“Well, a table of three just came in, and I really need to jet. I finally matched with that h-o-t hottie on Grindr, and our date is in -” he paused to study his watch, “ten minutes ago.”

“You mean the guy with abs you could grate cheese on?” Daniel reddened under Riley’s questioning. “Is it really a date if you met on Grindr?” Riley continued, before rolling her eyes and nudging him on the shoulder towards the direction of the staff exit.

“Go, man! Who am I to stop true love?”

Daniel responded with an eye roll of his own before an ear to ear smile overtook his whole face.

“Thank youuuuu! I won’t forget this!”

“Yea, yea. Don’t forget to send me a wedding invite!” Riley chirped, before heading over to attend to her late night guests who would probably, hopefully, be her final table of the evening.

“Hello, gentlemen. I’m Riley, and I’ll be serving you this evening. It looks like Daniel already brought out some waters for you, but what else can I get you all to drink? Or, if you’re ready to order food?” Riley paused, analyzing the motley crew that had assembled in the booth.

The first man on the inside of the far booth was extremely overdressed, in a fancy Italian suit that probably cost more than she’d brought home the past month. He certainly looked out of place, but also comfortable enough around the other two, which ruled out the possibility that he was a kidnap victim being held up in her bar by the others until the extortion money came through.

The second man, on the outside of the same booth, was still certainly overdressed, though he had a few buttons undone for a more a more casual appearance. He looked younger than the other man - maybe a little brother? No, the family resemblance wasn’t there.

Finally, Riley’s eyes rested on the last man, sitting alone on the opposite side of the table. He wore a casual, blue denim button down over a white t-shirt with black jeans. A Canadian tuxedo. Oh, well, everyone does formal wear in their own way, she supposed.

The second man suddenly spoke up, interrupting her inner evaluation of the three men.

“Steaks for the table!” he cheered with a smile. 

“How about some filet mignon, medium rare and prepared with a bearnaise sauce?” the first man added. He spoke with a posh, preppy accent, enunciating each letter of every word as if everything he’d said was of the utmost importance.

“Er, well, filet mignon does sound good! Unfortunately, the closest thing we have to that in our fine establishment would be the deluxe burger. It’s two half pound patties covered with swiss cheese and loaded with tomato, onion, lettuce, and special sauce. And the whole thing is topped off with bacon! Who doesn’t love bacon?!” she spun the house dish with as much pizzazz as possible in an attempt to appease the men. She really hoped Daniel was enjoying his date, because these men were going to be a pain in her -”

“We’ll be fine with a bottle of whiskey... and four deluxe burgers,” the third man finally chimed in, saving her from any further attempts at having to up-sell the bar’s humble menu options.

“Excellent choice!” Riley chirped, quickly making her way to the kitchen to put in their order and gather their drinks before any complaints could be made.

Riley made her way back to the table with a tray of whiskeys. Alcohol would surely make the burgers go down a little easier for the two men who were clearly more accustomed to eating truffle mushrooms and caviar for dinner. Upon arrival, Riley realized that another diner had joined their party of three.

“Oh! Hello there. Looks like I’ll need to grab another tumbler for you gentlemen. I’m your server, Riley.”

She took a look at the newest addition to the table. He dressed similarly to the two men on the opposite side, yet he had a casual air about him like Mr. Denim Shirt, whom he’d seated himself beside.

“Hello, Riley. I’m Liam. These are my friends, Tariq, Maxwell, and Drake,” he motioned towards each one as he spoke their names in the same order she had scrutinized them in. “Sorry I was late. I hope I didn’t disturb your work flow.”

“Disturb my...?” she stumbled slightly in her response, taken slightly aback by his formal way of speaking. “Oh, no problem at all! The more the merrier! Nice to meet you Liam,” she smiled, “and the rest of you too.”

Ding. “That’ll be your burgers now! Let me just go get those for you.” Riley scurried off quickly towards to kitchen, evading Liam’s bright-eyed, awestruck gaze.

______________________________________________________________________

The rest of the evening went by quickly and relatively uneventfully, with Liam seeming to reign in the rest of the group’s behavior with a princely ease. The bar’s only other customer had been a single man who’d had two double shots, complained about his wife, and then had to bounce after receiving a decibel shattering, eardrum bursting phone call from aforementioned wife.

Riley wiped down the counters and removed her apron, ready to turn off the lights and lock up for the evening when she heard the front door chime, alerting her of a new customer entering the bar.

“I’m sorry, we’re cl-” she turned around, locking eyes once again with Liam.

“Oh, hey! Did you forget something. I was just closing up. I didn’t see a wallet or anything in your booth, but I can double ch -”

“No, no. Nothing like that! Thank you so much for being patient with us tonight. I know we probably overstayed our welcome,” Liam paused, but Riley remained silent, neither confirming nor denying that she’d very much wanted to go home and promptly hibernate for a week straight.

“Anyway, I just wanted to see if - well, I wanted to invite you to go out with us tonight. Maybe to another bar or club? We’re not from around here and you seemed to really mesh well with the other guys, which isn’t always easy to do, and so... I thought maybe we could repay you with a drink or two.”

Riley pondered his offer, wagering the pros and cons in her head. She really wasn’t interested in Liam, as nice as he had been. He just seemed so.... safe. Boring, really. As if reading her thoughts, Liam interrupted.

“Just as friends. No pressure or anything. Just a thank you. And as a way to celebrate the end of your shift?” he smiled friendly.

“Ah, hell. Why not. I’ve been working non-stop lately. It’d probably do me some good to go out in a social setting and see some people other than my coworkers for once,” Riley agreed, returning Liam’s kind smile. “Just let me go to my locker first. I keep a change of clothes here at work just in case. I’ll meet you out front!” 

Riley mulled over her decision as she made her way over to her locker. Why had she told Liam yes? Sure, she had told him it was for socialization purposes, but if she were honest with herself, there was only one thing she wanted to socialize with - her bed. However, Drake was a close second. He had been mostly silent throughout their meal, simply sipping his whisky and digging into his burger with his sleeves pushed up around his elbows. It was what he hadn’t said that intrigued her. Every time she came by and spoke to their table, he had watched her with interest as if he were studying her - like he could read her inner thoughts if he merely looked hard enough. She could tell he was most certainly the strong but silent type. How did he fit into this group of outspoken, fancily dressed men? Who was he to them? She had to find out.

Riley changed into an emerald green dress that smelled slightly of stale french fries, but hey, that’s what she got for storing it in her work locker. In fact, smelling like french fries could be a bonus for some people.

She stepped back to examine herself in the mirror. She still looked banging if she said so herself, the fabric clinging to every curve of her corn-fed figure. It didn’t matter how much running around she did at the bar. Her mother had always told her that she had “baby making hips.” Finally, she slipped out of her work shoes, trading them in for a pair of low, black heels.

Finally, she turned the lights off, locking the door and slamming it shut behind her. She walked around to the front of the building, where a black stretch limousine was parked. Wow, these boys are even more bougee than I thought. She crossed the street quickly, making sure to press down her skirt as a gust of wind hit her out of nowhere, threatening to give the boys a free peep show. The window rolled down slightly, allowing Liam to peek out at her.

“Hey, Riley! Please come in. I hope you don’t mind the limo?” Riley stepped into the limo, trying to refrain the eye roll that was threatening to make itself evident on her face.

“Mind? Oh, no. I don’t mind. I haven’t been in a limo since senior prom, but uh, your average Thursday night seems like a perfect occasion for riding in one.”

“Heh,” Drake chuckled, barely audible from where she was seated. Liam looked up at him with a slightly shocked look, glancing back and forth between the two of them as if they were sharing some inside joke that he couldn’t understand.

“So, waitress, where are we headed?” the young one, Maxwell, piped up.

“It’s Riley, and are you even old enough to drink, Maxwell?”

That remark got the entire group laughing, Max’s face turning redder by the moment.

“I’ll have you know that I’m 23,” he protested, “I just happen to have a baby face.”

Riley chuckled in response, letting Maxwell off the hook from any further ribbing.

“Oh, well that makes two of us! Let’s run down to the corner store for some booze, and I’ll take you guys to my secret spot.”

"Surely you don’t expect me to frequent such an establishment?” Tariq barked, suddenly inserting himself in the conversation.

“Of course she doesn’t, Tariq. She’s much too smart for that,” Drake interjected, suddenly coming to her defense. “I’ll go in with you Riley,” he continued, “if you want, I mean. There’s no need to bring the whole parade into the store.”

“Sure, Drake,” she agreed, surprised that he had offered. The limo rolled to a stop and they hauled their way out and into the shop to get the goods for an evening of adult fun.

____________________________________________

The limo driver pulled up and parked beside of the beach lot. Riley sat up front with the driver to give directions of course, making herself useful. After all, she would be more help up there than in the back, with Liam making goo-goo eyes all over her.

Meanwhile Drake put bags of ice in the cooler, filling it with their drinks so they would keep cool for the duration of their evening at the beach.

Drake didn’t know how the others would be manage that evening, but he loved the beach. He loved the woods. He loved the mountains. He loved being outdoors in general and being one with nature in any capacity. Drake didn’t have to pretend to be somebody else when it was just him and nature.

Drake dragged the cooler out onto the sand, leaving it behind to start gathering sticks for a fire. A small fire pit was already set up from previous party-goers - he just needed to gather some kindling. He figured it would also give Liam a chance to chat up Riley.

Drake saw how Liam had looked at her. As royalty, Liam had always gotten exactly what he wanted and more. Everything had always been given to him before he even had the chance ask for it. Personally, Drake could tell that Riley was too humble for a guy like Liam. She would never be wowed by the limo, or any of his other symbols of lavish overindulgence. But, Drake could also tell that Liam wanted her, so he left it alone.

The boys threw back drink after drink, continuing the party that they’d started at the bar. By the time Drake came back and got the fire going strong, Liam and the others were talking out of their ass with Riley. She seemed to take it all in stride, laughing and taking slow sips of her beer, making eye contact with Drake above the roaring flames of the fire.

The fire seemed to dance in her eyes, warming Drake from the inside out way more than the flames did themselves. He shook his head, knocking those thoughts loose from his mind. The group would be leaving soon to go back to Cordonia, and he would never see her again. There was no sense in entertaining the desire that was bubbling under the surface for this beautiful, young waitress who had no idea who they any of them were.

Liam continued telling stories, more-so to hear himself speak than for any other reason. Maxwell and Tariq had already broken off into their own conversation, and Riley had tuned Liam out ages ago, merely offering the occasional, “mmmhmm,” or, “oh, really?” to keep the charade that she was listening going along. She hadn’t taken her eyes off of Drake all night, since they’d arrived at the beach. She knew he felt it too. When they’d locked eyes before, she swore she saw a blush reach his cheeks, right before he quickly looked away and brushed his jeans off, pretending that a grain of sand needed addressing right away, requiring his full attention for the task.

It took a few more “mmhmms” from Riley without a response from Liam before she realized that he had exhausted himself. He laid back on a piece of driftwood, his mouth slightly agape as he snored lightly. Riley chucked, looking around to see how the rest of the group was getting along. Maxwell and Tariq were over 100 yards away, entertaining themselves on the pier with a game of ad-libs. Well, Maxwell was ad-libbling. Tariq seemed like he was just confused, and more than ready to return to whatever ritzy hotel they were staying at to enjoy the mint on his pillow that awaited him.

Looking out across the fire, Riley admired Drake’s rugged handsomeness. His shaggy, wavy brown hair. His dark brown eyes with a story to tell behind them. His slightly crooked nose. The smattering of two-day-old stubble along his jaw. He looked up with a smile, as if he knew that Riley had been studying him. She blushed, quickly rising from her seat as he did the same. She walked a few paces over to where he sat.

“I want to dip my toes in the water. Will you join me?” she requested.

“Are you nuts? That water is going to be freezing, Brooks.”

“Brooks? How did you-”

“Your name tag at the bar. First and last name. Kind of encourages people to stalk you, ya know. You should rethink the idea,” he jested, given Riley a lopsided grin to distract her from any potential thoughts of stalkers.

“How very observant of you, Drake. I think this is the most you’ve said to me all night.”

“Must be the whiskey,” he responded. He’d only had one shot at the bar, and two beers at the beach, but Riley didn’t need to know that he just wanted to talk to her. Liam passing out had been the perfect “in” for him.

Riley gave him a knowing look, but she didn’t push the issue. She kicked off her shoes and headed towards the water, glancing over her shoulder at Drake. “Are you coming?”

Her question floated towards him like a whisper in the ocean breeze, and he felt himself being pulled towards her as if he were powerless to deny her request.

“Shit,” he mumbled to himself, kicking off his own shoes and socks, feeling the sand between his toes. The sand was warm, and he loved being barefoot as much as possible, so he figured this plan wasn’t so bad. He joined Riley a few feet from the tide, where the sand was starting to get wetter, but not quite stepping into the water just yet.

Riley reached out to grab his hand, shocking him and distracting his inner battle with himself about how cold the water was about to be.

“Let’s do it together. I’ll count down from three, and we’ll step into the water at the same time, okay?” Riley announced, and Drake nodded absentmindedly.

“3, 2, 1....” Riley stepped forward, pulling Drake into the water along with her, causing the bottom of his pants to get wet.

“Shit!” Riley yelled, high stepping back out of the water with Drake before releasing his hand. “You were right, that was cold as hell!”

“Heh, actually I think hell is supposed to be hot?” he smirked at her, lifting an arm to run his hand through his hair - a nervous habit. The truth was, he hadn’t felt the chill of the water. All he could feel was her hand in his.

They stood together, collecting themselves silently. Riley watched him with renewed interest, his profile lit up by the light of the moon. She reached out without thinking, lightly pressing the side of his nose and drawing a short line. 

“Your nose is crooked,” she noted. “What happened?”

“Ah, it was a long time ago. You don’t want to hear about that,” he waved his hand, trying to dismiss her line of questioning. He didn’t like to talk about himself, and the last thing he wanted was for Riley to pity him.

“Please tell me,” she continued. He looked at her, unable to deny the request in her pleading eyes. She seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say. Genuinely interested in him. It had been a long time since someone had shown him such interest.

“I -” he hesitated, looking out over his shoulder to Liam, who was still dozing out of earshot. “Liam. He punched me and broke my nose when we were teenagers.”

“What?!” she squeaked, shocked by his admission. “What a dick. What happened? Why are you still friends with him? What the fuck?!” an onslaught of questions barreled out of her, causing him to chuckle, regardless of the topic at hand. He touched her arm, quieting her.

“It was a long time ago. I’m over it now.”

She quieted, urging him to continue elaborating.

“A girl he liked.... liked me instead. Liam is used to getting what he wants and he didn’t take “us” very well. So he punched me.”

Riley’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head. “So what if he didn’t like it. I don’t like onions, but I’m not going to punch you in the nose if you eat them around me.”

Drake gave Riley a soft smile in return that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I don’t think those are the same thing, but I appreciate it. Like I said, I’m over it now.”

“I just don’t get it,” Riley continued, “Liam seems like such a nice guy. A little into himself, but fine enough. Why did he think that the girl he liked not liking him back warranted a punch in the nose?”

Deciding that it was time to tell Riley the full truth, Drake sighed before admitting, ��Well, because Liam is a royal. He’s the prince of a small country in Europe called Cordonia. He’s used to getting everything he wants, even if he doesn’t necessarily deserve it or need it.”

“Yea, you’re funny, and I’m the Queen of England,” Riley rolled off sarcastically, rolling her eyes as she paced along the beach with Drake. When his expression didn’t change, she stopped. “Wait - you’re serious?”

“As a heart attack. The only reason I’m still part of his inner circle is because Liam and I have been friends since we were kids. My father served his father, and he died in the line of duty. Liam’s family took in me and my sister when my mother abandoned us and we had nowhere else to go,” Drake hesitated, realizing that he might be oversharing a bit too much with this woman who he barely knew anything about. He rarely met someone who didn’t know who he was, and he rarely talked about his feelings with the people who did know him, so it all just kind of came out with Riley.

“Sorry, to lay all that on you. But yea, that’s why he is the way he is, and that’s why my nose is crooked,” he finished, walking back to douse the remaining embers of the fire before Riley could stop him. This hiss of the dying flame was enough to jolt Liam out of his slumber.

Maxwell and Tariq rejoined the group, each holding onto one of Liam’s arms as he struggled to stay upright.

“Poor Liam doesn’t get out of the palace much to let loose. He can’t really handle his liquor very well,” Maxwell joked, smiling at Riley.

“Maxwell! Liam wanted us to remain undercover, remember. Now Riley knows he’s a royal!” Tariq scolded.

“Don’t worry about it, Max,” he interrupted Maxwell’s quickly escalating panic, letting him off the hook. “I already told her.”

“I don’t know why he keeps you around. The whole lot of you. You can’t do the one thing he asked,” Tariq sneered as he stomped off with Liam in tow, depositing him into the back of the limo with Maxwell.

“Ignore him,” Drake said to Riley. “Can we give you a ride home?”

“Oh, no. That won’t be necessary. I just live a few blocks from here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s late. I’ll walk you. I can take a cab back to the hotel from there or something.”

Riley started to protest, but he was already ducking his head down into the limo to tell the guys to go on without him, and that he would get his own ride back.

The limo drove off and Drake started to make his way down the sidewalk. Riley scurried in her heels to keep pace, admonishing him once she arrived beside him.

“I didn’t even tell you which way it was!”

Drake gave her a sideways smirk and asked, “Well, which way is your place?”

Begrudgingly, she admitted that they were headed in the right direction. “It just so happens that it’s this way. You got lucky.”

Drake chuckled in response, but he didn’t push her any further.

A few more steps into their walk, he realized that their time together was quickly coming to an end. He had to get her talking. To get the most out of their time together.

“So, tell me about you. What’s your story? Did you always want to work at a bar?” he seriously doubted it, but he wanted to find out more about her.

She laughed sadly, shaking her head no. “Is that anyone’s dream job?” she glanced his way before continuing. “No, I was in college for political science. My parents didn’t have a lot of money, but they supported me financially through school. They both worked two jobs to makes ends meet,” Riley paused, growing a little quieter. “The summer after my third year, they were in a train accident. The train derailed and they,” she sniffled, a tear streaming down her cheek, “they died.”

“I’m so sorry, Riley. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business,” Drake apologized, feeling like an asshole for ruining their fun night by bringing up sad topics.

“No,” she wiped her cheek, gathering herself. “It’s okay, Drake,” she smiled softly at him. “I know that you know how it feels to lose a parent.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed it, not letting go.

“So, no, to answer your question, I did not want to be a waitress or a bartender for the rest of my life, but I had to quit uni to support myself after they passed. I haven’t found my way back yet,” she finished, stopping in front of a brown brick building. “Well, this is my building,” she pulled Drake into her arms, breathing in the scent of him, a mix of crisp pine and campfire smoke.

He stalled, taken slightly aback at first, before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a the safe cocoon of his arms. He burrowed his nose in her hair, soaking in as much of the moment as he could before he knew he’d have to leave her. He released her reluctantly, taking a step back. “It was great meeting you, Brooks.”

Riley took the few steps that led up to the door, pausing with her keys in her hand. She couldn’t let him go yet, and before she could stop herself, she looked over her shoulder at him and uttered, “Would you like to come up?”

She wasn’t the type for one night stands. She’d only had two long term boyfriends, and she knew that she’d probably never see him again, but she felt magnetically drawn to this man. Before she could withdrawn her offer, he took a few steps up to meet her, pressed his hand to her lower back, and nodded subtly in agreement.

She gulped, her heart racing as she inserted her key into the door and turned the knob. What the hell was she doing? Riley, you’re getting ahead of yourself. Maybe he just wants to come up for coffee. You’re being an idiot. She glanced up again at him, and he smirked at her. She gulped. This man does not want coffee. He wants...

Before she could overthink the situation any more, they were already in front of her apartment door.

Cognizant of her nervous energy, Drake stalled, turning Riley to look him in the eye.

“We don’t have to do anything, Brooks. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you, but I can tell you’re nervous,” he smiled sympathetically. “I don’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable.”

His gentlemanly admission calmed her nerves, and renewed the fire in her loins. She studied him with renewed vigor. Tall, broad shoulders, muscular, rugged, handsome... and hers for at least the next hour. She unlocked her apartment and moved aside to let him in behind her.

He looked around for moment, taking in their surroundings. Humble, but cozy, Organized, but adorned with sentimental tchotchkes here and there. A small sofa, easily convertible into a full size bed, making the most of the studio space.

Riley wrung her hands, watching him as he took in their surroundings, finally settling on her face. “I like your place. It’s very you.”

“Simple and unassuming?” she quipped.

“Cute,” he responded, leaning in to kiss her softly.

__________________________________

Riley darted off to the kitchen, pouring drinks for the both of them. She was nervous. She wanted Drake, but she’d also never been in a position where the future was so cloudy. She liked to research things, weigh pros and cons, and make well thought out decisions. She wasn’t used to thinking with her vag.

They took their drinks into the living room, which also happened to be her bedroom. Riley turned on the TV, and she settled on watching MasterChef.

“Is this okay?” Riley asked. She hadn’t really asked Drake what he wanted to watch. She had just picked a program that she wanted to catch up on.

“Oh yea, I love cooking,” Drake responded, smiling at Riley in response.

They sat together on the couch, drinking and watching the show in mostly silence. They gradually started to get more comfortable, with Drake sitting up while Riley laid back along the couch with her legs across his lap. Absentmindedly, Drake began to rub slow circles along the inside of her ankle, his hand drifting up her calf throughout the episode. While innocent enough, it was enough to wake up Riley’s senses and distract her entirely from the show.

Two can play at this game. Riley matched the pace of his hand’s ascension. As his hand rose up her leg, she gripped the side of her dress and lifted it, keeping pace with his hand, slowly revealing more and more of her thigh, until the side of her underwear was peaking out.

“Do you see this idiot? Can’t cook to save his fuc -” Drake finally glanced in her direction, noticing the predicament that they were in. “Fuck,” he finished.

Drake reared back, simultaneously losing all interest in the show and repositioning his body to lay over Riley’s, positioning a leg between hers. He kissed her, leaving a soft trail of kisses along her jar and up to her ear.

“That dish looked fucking disgusting, I think I have something better to eat right...” his hand traveled the remaining distance to the apex of her thighs, “here.”

Riley shuddered under his hand, feeling as he grew hard against the exposed skin of her thigh.

“Is this okay?” Drake whispered, moving his arms to either side of her, hovering above her body before continuing his movements.

“Yes,” Riley responded, nodding her head urgently and wrapping her hands around one of Drake’s to relocate it, moving it back to her crotch.

He growled with hunger, leaning over her body to suck the soft flesh of her neck, working across her collarbone as he rubbed her softly through her underwear. He wrapped one arm under her back, pulling her into an upright position. 

She was confused, but only for a moment, quickly coming up to speed as he slipped his hand under her dress, alongside her thigh. She raised her arms, allowing him to pull the dress up her body and over her head.

Riley pushed herself up further, now on her knees. “You’re not nearly naked enough,” she admonished Drake, pushing him down to lay on the couch as she straddled his thighs. She slowly unbuttoned his shirt, opening it to reveal the thin white tee beneath. She pulled the shirt out from the waistband of his pants, raising the fabric to reveal his hard abs and a smattering of hair.

Drake wrapped his arms around her, picking her up as he stood from the couch, depositing her safely to the ground to pull out the bed before things progressed any further. Tinkering around until he was finally satisfied with his efforts, he picked her up again and threw her on the newly constructed bed. She laughed momentarily at his caveman antics, but quickly quieted once he took off his button down and pulled his t-shirt over his head, leaving him half naked. No wonder her could throw her around like she was a pillow. This man was solid as a rock. She’d have to ask him later how he stayed so fit.

Drake leaned over her to unhook her bra, pausing to suck each nipple and kiss each breast for a few moments, a sense of urgency taking over as he shifted further down the bed.

He leaned between Riley’s legs, wrapping an arm around each thigh and holding onto her luscious hips. He kissed her through her panties that were thoroughly soaked by this point. Satisfied by how aroused she was, he hooked his teeth onto them and peeled them down her legs, resuming his place between her thighs once it was done.

He licked his way up her slit, causing her to jolt forward into his mouth as her hips lifted off the bed. He gripped her hips tighter and began to lick her. Slow and gentle at first, from bottom to top. He stiffened his tongue and inserted the full length of it into her, siphoning in and out, lapping up all of her juices as her head fell back and she started to moan.

“Drake!” she gasped. Her moans added further fuel to the fire, encouraging him to work twice as hard so that he could hear more of them. He wanted her to unravel under his mouth before he ravaged her body.

He removed his tongue, replacing the empty space with two fingers, leaning down to suck on her bundle of nerves at the same time. He alternated between sucking and licking her clit, curling his fingers as he pumped in and out of her.

With one final, “Drake!” he felt the dam burst within her, and she coated his fingers with her sweet cream. He paused to look at her as he sucked his fingers clean of her.

He stood from the bed, unbuckling his belt and carefully unzipping his pants, sliding them down his legs. His dick was as big and as firm as the rest of his body, and Riley’s mouth instantly started salivating like it was a cold popsicle on a hot summer day. Wordlessly, she leapt off the bed and got down on her knees in front of him.

“Riley, you don’t have to - oh!” she took him in her mouth and quickly got to work, taking him deep into her mouth and throat as far as she could go, her saliva getting it nice and wet for the next stage of the evening. She leaned back until just the head was in her mouth, swirling her tongue around and suctioning the tip and she simultaneously pumped up and down his girth with her hand. She felt a slight twitch before he gently pressed her chest, releasing himself from her mouth and urging her to lay back on the bed.

She leaned back with anticipation as he hovered over her body, his member pressing between her legs, a thigh on either side of him. He leaned down to kiss her, slipping his tongue in her mouth and sucking on her bottom lip gently before asking, “Condom?”

“Oh, uh, yes...” she dug around in her bedside drawer for a moment, retrieving what they needed. She tore open the foil and slid it down the length of him as quickly as she could, unwilling to wait much longer for him to be inside of her.

He leaned over her body, offering one last soft kiss as he positioned himself at her entrance. Swiftly, he slid himself inside her body, causing her to gasp.

“Are you okay?” he asked, pausing as she adjusted to his girth, stilling his movements entirely.

“Yes, yes! More than okay! Move!” she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him into her further. He needed no more encouragement. He grasped onto the sides of her thighs, positioning her body to meet his every thrust as he pounded into her, causing her to howl in pleasure.

“Oooohhh, Drake. Fuck!” she groaned deliriously, generating a cocky smirk to rest on his face.

“That’s what we’re doing,” he responded sarcastically. Before she was able to return his quip with one of her own, he doubled down and leaned over her body, resting his weight on his forearms for stability. He slid in an out of her body, almost coming out of her entirely before thrusting deep within her, making her feel so empty and then instantly filling the void within her, bringing her to the edge of delirium. She felt so good, he was having trouble containing himself. He tried to think of anything and everything that would keep him from getting off. He wanted this to last as long as possible.

He withdrew, causing her to whimper instantly. “Drake, what -“

“On your knees,” he commanded smoothly, and she followed his instructions right away. He pressed himself against her until she started to squirm, pressing herself back against him until he went inside just a little. He slid his arm underneath her body, angling her sweet ass so he could reach her from the back. He started to rock inside of her as she groaned and wailed with pleasure, rubbing his hand in circles and winding her body tighter than a spring. It didn’t take long before she burst, her muscles spasming down around him as she climaxed.

“Thank god,” he murmured, too quiet for Riley to hear, quickly finding release of his own after taking a few final pumps within her.

He withdrew from her body slowly, discarding the condom in the bin and cleaning himself off. He lay beside her, wrapping his arm around her safely as they both recovered, feeling happier than he had in a very long time.

__________________________

Drake woke up a few hours later in an unfamiliar place, momentarily forgetting what had occurred until her saw Riley laying beside him, hair fanned out across the pillow. He found a blanket on the lounge chair beside of the bed, and he draped it across her body so she wouldn’t get cold.

Hmmm... that’s a nice chair. Maybe we could trying doing it there next time. Next time? What was he thinking. As amazing as Riley was, he didn’t see how they could possibly make a real relationship happen between them. Everybody knows that long distance relationships never work. Drake started to get dressed, fumbling around for his clothes in the dim lighting.

“Drake?” Riley whispered, her voice barely audible with sleep. “Are you leaving?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you yet. I was going to wake you before I slipped out. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Our flight home is actually scheduled for tomorrow morning, er, I guess it’s this morning now.”

“Oh,” she stated sadly. “Well, let me give you my number. Maybe we can text or Facetime or something?” she asked hopefully.

“Sure, Brooks. I’d love that.”

He typed her number into his phone and she walked him to the door, the blanket he’d covered her with wrapped around her body. He leaned down to kiss her, sweet and soft, pouring so much emotion into it that you would have thought he was her longtime lover going off to war or something. She shook off the thought. She knew what she had been getting into, after all.

After Drake left, she tried to go back to sleep to no avail. Drake had really lit a fire within her - mind, body, and soul. She truly hoped that he would call.

About 15 minutes after Drake left, Riley thought she heard a knock at the door. Who would be bothering her this early? It wasn’t even light out yet. Surely enough she heard it again, three more raps at the door. Could it be him?

She quickly burritoed herself, covering all of her exciting bits with the blanket around her. She opened the door, expecting to see Drake, but...

Maxwell waited behind the door, perking up with interest as she opened it, trying not to let his eyes wonder once he realized what she was wearing.

“Um, hi, Riley! How would you feel about taking a trip to Cordonia?”