#happy birthday to me we had a tornado warning yesterday so i got some sentences written

[sapphireswimming]

with a thousand pinpricks of distant light, ch 2 (a Gundam 00 fic)

Sentence-stories, with canon-typical violence and spoilers through the entire show (on ao3) (on ffn)

This chapter is based on prompts from @durinswizardwheezes and @hawk-in-a-tree

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11. Official

Sumeragi drinks even more heavily than normally the night their existence is revealed, as Aeolia Schindberg’s century-gone voice rings out across every news channel around the entire globe – “We call ourselves simply ‘Celestial Being’” – and she tries to drown the certainty that despite the decades of planning, they’re not… that she’s not up to the impossible task he’s entrusted them with.

12. Cane

Billy turns away from the desk at the sound of the door opening – a plea already upon his lips for Graham to please leave him alone, this really won’t get done any sooner no matter how many times you ask – only to scramble to attention, straightening piles of notes as soon as the impact of a stout wooden cane against the floor meant it was The Professor instead.

13. Photograph

She’d known that Chris had taken a lot of pictures over the years, pulling out her terminal to snap selfies with Feldt far more frequently than she’d thought necessary, but it wasn’t until one of the Haros helped recover the backups of her camera roll that Feldt realized just how many she’d taken – candid photos of the crew around the Ptolemy, adjusting to gravity or chilling in the mess hall, hundreds of the standard touristy shots whenever they visited a new city on Earth, evidence of the birthday parties she’d so enthusiastically planned around the security protocols, and a picture of every single outfit she’d ever asked Feldt to try on during one of their shopping sprees, not a single one deleted no matter how far back she scrolled.

14. Crock Pot

There wasn’t much that Saji could do for Kinue, given everything she struggled and scraped to provide for him, but then again, it turned out that it didn’t take much to let the crock pot turn a jar of sauce and some diced vegetables into an aromatic, filling dinner in the time between his leaving for school and Kinue getting off of work.

15. Cone

No matter how fervently Lasse denies it, Lichty forever maintains that the fastest anyone in Celestial Being has ever seen him respond to a threat was the time Chris shrieked loudly enough to be heard from the mess hall to the hangar because she’d just learned that Feldt had never had an ice cream cone.

16. Field

Allelujah opens his mouth to call for Marie when he catches sight of her expression – wide-eyed awe as she slowly spins around in the field of golden flowers beneath a brilliantly cloudless blue sky – and he smiles and says nothing as he adjusts the pack on his shoulder and walks back to join her.

17. Mesa

Ian had seen a lot of the world by the time he and Joyce joined up with Celestial Being – moving from one relief station to another in jungles, deserts, and everything in between – and he’s never once regretted it, but whenever he realizes that one of these kids on their strike team has never seen a cactus, or a waterfall, or a flat-topped mesa, and likely never will, he can’t help but understand their tactical forecaster’s drinking habits a little better.

18. Mirror

Lasse stares at his reflection in the mirror – harrowed and hollow-cheeked, with deep bags under his eyes despite weeks in a healing pod – and he thinks the others will worry enough as it is, so he takes a deep breath and decides not to bother anyone else with the finer details of the new scar across his brow, the one that will never truly heal, the one that will end up killing him, in the end.

19. String

Ribbons knows full well just how ridiculous his name is, but he never changes it, even though it would be incredibly easy to reinvent himself with a few changed bits of data; it’s his own private joke, as he smiles politely and introduces himself to Alejandro, to know that Ribbons is the one pulling the strings behind it all.

20. Lighthouse

Setsuna owes them his life, Ribbons and Nena Trinity, but once he knows the nature of his saviors, the true intent of the figures piloting the bright shining Gundams suspended in the sky far above the destruction drowning him, once he knows the twisted hearts of the one who led him on the path to becoming a Meister, and the one who allowed him to continue walking it when the world powers tried with all their might to snuff him out, he does not think he can ever forgive them.

[ariahearthockey]

Love Me, If You Will - Chapter 1

Prologue

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Fandom: Men’s Hockey RPF

Pairing: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin

Tags: 2017 NHL Playoffs, Concussion, Memory Loss, Medical Inaccuracies, Unexplained Medical Conditions, Alternate Reality, Time Travel (sort of), Pining, Fluff, Porn With Feelings, Happy Ending (sort of)

Soundtrack: Dancing On My Own - Calum Scott

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Chapter 1

Sidney wakes up with a weird feeling churning in his gut. His head is pounding, the room is spinning and the air is unseasonably cool for summer. The sky outside is still quite dark, sans the burst of deep orange brimming low on the horizon. He rolls over to his side and squints at the clock on the nightstand, and it confirms his suspicion. It is a little more than an hour before his alarm is supposed to go off and he groans in annoyance.

There is no way he can go back to sleep in the state he is in—with the nagging headache and all—but the idea of leaving the warmth of his bed seems really unappealing. He tries to recall if he has done anything stupid the night before like drinking his own weight in champagne to merit him such dire consequences, but he knew the answer is 'no'. The action can be justified easily since he has just won the Stanley Cup two years in a row, but he dislikes hangovers more than anything. So, like a petulant child, he buries his head deep in his pillow and pulls the cover over his head as an effort to will the pounding in his head to subside.

Then, he hears it. The noise of someone snoring, low and deep. It goes on for a little while before the bed moves, and a hand sneaks up around his waist and tugs him backwards. His back collides against a flat, sturdy chest and the warmth from it almost made him forget the one big question in his head. Has he brought someone home yesterday and totally forgot about it? Say it isn't so because no matter how many times he has done this, he still dreads the awkward morning after that is almost guaranteed when they are both much awake later, especially when he doesn't remember a thing about it.

He doesn't think he was that drunk, even if so, he is usually more careful about bringing his hookups back home. One blabber mouth could mean scandal and it is unlike him to have total blackout like that. But before he has the time to contemplate his actions or that of his alcohol tolerance, he is distracted by the bursts of warm breath against the back of his neck, soothing him and arousing him all at the same time. The sudden rush of blood in his body eases his headache a little and he hums quietly when he feels the soft press of lips against his nape, sucking and licking lazily until his skin feels tender.

And then there lies the most difficult dilemma. He contemplates if there should be a repeat of what he’s had yesterday—call it a refresh of memory or whatnot—or there should be some kind of resistance on his part before things get even more awkward. On one hand it seems like the right thing to do, not taking any more advantage of whoever that is in bed with him right now, because duh, he was raised to be a gentlemen. But on the other hand—where even the most chivalrous of a man would have a difficult time to resist—is the evident hard bulge that is currently digging into the crease of his ass. It feels huge to say the least, and he shudders just thinking about how delicious it will feel if he gets to ride it until he comes.

And then a groan comes from behind—all low and breathy—and it all but sends his blood rushing towards his own dick. His breathing picks up when the hand on his waist slips underneath the waistband of his sweats, and plays with the coarse hair near his crotch. His body grows hot and wired, and any thoughts of not wanting another go with this stranger is conveniently tossed out the window, together with his dignity as he spreads his thighs wider. The stranger seems to like it, and he groans that deep, throaty groan again. He has to bite down his own lips just so he doesn't make any more noise that could embarrassed himself further and relents himself to the soft touch of the very skilled fingers. But then, like sticking a stick into a spinning wheel, something in that voice makes his eyes shoot wide open, and when he realises why the voice sounded so familiar, he is more awake than being doused by a barrel of icy water.

"Mmm, Sid.."

A million warning alarms start to go off in his head at the same time. He knows that voice, he knows that accent and he knows it far too well for it to be real or for it to be moaning his name like that. He bounces away from the bed so quickly, it is an awe he doesn't trip over his own feet and fall flat on his face. Instead, he stands a few feet away from the bed, feeling absolutely flabbergasted and confused as hell.

"What the fuck! What are you do—uh—"

The rest of his sentence dies in his throat as he takes in the picture in front of him. Geno, naked as a jay bird, is stretched out on his bed, with a wonderfully tousled bed hair and a sleep-warm face. The lack of light in the room hides absolutely nothing at all and honestly, he isn't sure where to look, or if he should look. It is not to say that he has never seen Geno naked before, quite the contrary actually. With them being on the same team for a little more than a decade, he has had his fair share of Geno's nakedness in the locker room. But, to be perfectly fair, never has he thought he would be seeing it in a setting quite like this.

"Sid? Baby, why you leave? Is cold. Come back and I'm make you warm."

With that, he is officially more confused than he has ever been. He is almost 99.9% certain that he is in some kind of a dream. It would have been one hell of an elaborated dream, but only that will explain why Geno is calling him by sweet endearments or touching him intimately or fucking grinding his hard dick against his ass.

"G—Geno. What—what are you doing in—in my bed?" Sidney sputters through his line of question.

As baffled as he feels at the moment, he can't deny that Geno looks exceptionally good in his bed. When Geno raises his arms above his head and gives his body a good stretch, it makes his throat dry all of a sudden. There is so much of Geno on display—the long stretch of his pale body, the dark hair decorating his chest that trickles down to his abdomen and all those prominent lines when his muscles flex underneath the taut skin. And then there is the very impressive package that he felt against his ass not too long ago.

"I'm sleep. Of course I'm in bed." Geno says it like it is the most obvious thing in the world. And it is, except that it isn't.

"Well, yeah. But what are you doing sleeping in my bed? And why are you uh—," Sidney questions again with his hands waving frantically in the air, "—naked?"

"Huh? I'm always sleep naked. I'm tell you, is more comfortable and easy if want fuck." Geno replies with a confidence that will normally make him laugh but right then it just made him want to pull out his hair.

"Wh—what? Okay, Geno. Listen to me. You're in my bed, naked, and with me in it. And you and I uh—we almost—" Sidney is too embarrassed to finish that sentence but judging by the sly grin adorning Geno's face, he doesn't have to.

"Yeah, I'm know, baby. And if you come back, we continue. I'm blow you, then I'm fuck you."

Sidney feels his body going through a tornado of emotions because he is simultaneously shocked and turned on by what Geno said. He shifts on his feet, trying to hide his hardening dick tenting in his sweats. "Oh my god, Geno. How much have you got to drink yesterday?"

"Drink? No drink, Sid. You know I'm never drink before game day."

"What game day? We just won the cup, G. There is no more game until the summer's over or did you forget?

Geno seems to catch on onto the confusion now as he sits up on the bed and looks at Sidney, concern written all over his face. Sidney feels his cheeks heating when he catches himself tracking Geno's every movement—because Geno in his birthday suit is fucking too hard to ignore. He has neither the self control nor the time to chide himself for not able to tear his gaze away right now.

"Sid, you okay? Head hurt? Come lie down, take rest."

Sitting down sounds really good to him at that moment. After all he has gone through since he woke up, he really need to sit and give himself some time to gather his thoughts a little bit. But then, "I would but you're still very naked."

Geno holds up his hands in surrender before he pulls the sheets up to his waist (as if that will help) and pats his hand on the space beside him on the bed. Sidney resigns and goes to him, sitting himself just a few inches away from Geno. He doesn't make any more movement once he is seated, because he doesn't want to accidentally strip Geno of his cover or something equally as mortifying.

"Sid, you feel not good? Head okay?"

Sidney shrugs. "Yeah, no. It's fine. It hurts a little when I woke up, but it's fine now."

"Sid sure? 'Cause Vyas said keep watch for symptom."

Vyas, the head of their medical team, is one hell of an annoying bugger. "Yes, I'm sure, Geno. I have gone more than a month without any symptoms now. I'm fine."

Something in Geno's face tells him that he might have said something wrong—which he really isn't expecting at all. He basically just told Geno that he is symptom free for quite a long amount of time but Geno is looking at him as if that is a terrible news. Like, okay—his head still hurts a little but that is just the champagne's doing. Otherwise, he feels perfectly fine.

"Sid, Nisky crosscheck two days ago. Vyas say is concussion so maybe Sid confuse." Geno explains gently like he is afraid to startle a wounded animal.

"What? What are you talking about, G? We've beaten the Caps a while ago, eh? And we just won the fucking Cup."

"Sid." Geno begins as he scoots closer to Sidney and cups his hands to Sidney's face. "Sid, is okay. I'm know maybe you forget and Vyas say sometimes is normal. But Sid, we not finish round two yet."

Then the confusion starts to really set in because that is just not possible. Sidney remembers clearly that they were well pass his minor concussion and went on to defeat the Caps, then the Sens, and then fucking hoisted the Stanley Cup in Nashville after they shut the Preds out in game six. "Geno, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Today is game four, Sid. Sully say you take rest and then be ready for game five, remember?"

He knows that if he is smart, he should say 'yes' just so he won't attract more unnecessary attention that will surely leads to more unnecessary tests. But then, "No, Geno. We already took out the Caps and then we move on to play the Sens and beat them in double overtime and then the—wait. Geno, are you pranking me? Is this a prank? Shit, did Flower put you up to this? Oh my god, of course he did. I can't believe I actually fell for that. Good job, G. You got me. Ugh, Vegas's gonna have to choose some other goalie because I'm gonna fucking kill Flower!"

"Sid, wait. Okay, calm down. I'm promise is no prank. I'm kill Flower for you if he prank."

"What do you mean it's not—of course it's a prank. If this whole thing isn't a prank, then why do you keep telling me that we're playing the Caps today and more importantly, you waking up in my bed naked?"

"Um, because I'm live here?"

"Oh, right. That's real funny, G. Ha-ha."

"Wait, Sid. You really not remember?"

"What don't I remember?"

The silence that stretches on after that makes him really uncomfortable. It is like the inevitable moment when the blood starts ringing in the ears just before someone is about to receive a monumentally bizarre news.

"Sid, we married. We married for five years."

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