#i gotta crosspost some chapters i already had up on ao3

[duhragonball]

[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (209/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball,  which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation.   This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made  on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: This story This story takes place about 1000 years before  66 years after  1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

[12 March 238 Before Age. Dorlu Prime.]

Luffa had once been the Legendary Super Saiyan, until the Demon God Demigra offered her a chance to do it all over again. She found herself in a new history, where the alien hordes who captured and tortured her were all dead. With the Tikosi's extinction, and Luffa's foreknowledge of events to come, she had a chance to live her life the way she had always wanted. All of the friends, the love, the triumphs, with none of the loss, the regrets, the tragedies.

Or so it had seemed.

She was still trying to decide whether to accept Demigra's truce. His terms were simple. If she agreed to remain in this new reality, he would leave her alone. But if she refused to accept his triumphant ascension to godhood, then Luffa could confront him for one final battle. She only had to take the magic scroll he had left for her, and she would instantly travel from her world to his. Since that path lay open to her, she decided to take her time and see what this new world had to offer.

At first, it had seemed like a dream come true. She was back on Dorlu Prime, where she had spent her teenage years guarding the planet as a mercenary. Her treacherous father had left the planet in a profound despair. His plans for the future had died with the Tikosi, and only Luffa knew just how shaken this had left him. That suited her well, as it meant she could chart her own course without him.

Keda was alive in this world, still a healthy nine-year-old child, unaffected by the terrible conflicts that only Luffa could now remember. The same was true for Zatte, the captain of the Dorlun militia. In this era, she had been Luffa's best friend, although later they would fall in love and marry. However, in this era, Luffa was still married to her first husband, Kandai.

Luffa's plan was fuzzy in places, but the basic goal was to divide her time between the Dorlu Colony and finding mercenary work in the surrounding space sectors. That way, she could still have Zatte and Keda in her life, without taking them away from their home. From there, Luffa could reach out to other close friends she had made in the old reality. It would be a challenge to make contact with them all and befriend them all over again, but Luffa cared for them too much to simply ignore them.

But that part of the plan had ended before it could truly begin. She had contacted Dr. Topsas on Plutark VII, hoping to strike up a friendship with him while he put her in contact with Wampaaan'riix. Instead, he informed her that Wampaaan'riix had been killed in a Deathmatch tournament.

This had been a huge blow to Luffa, who had never even considered the possibility. In the old reality, Wampaaan'riix had survived the tournament, thanks to Luffa's refusal to kill him. This time, she had skipped the tournament, never suspecting that her Yetitan friend might lose his life to some other opponent.

After hearing the news, she was inconsolable for hours. The worst part was that she couldn't even tell anyone what was bothering her. There was no way to explain it.

In the old reality, she might have commiserated with Zatte through her telepathic abilities, which had become much more sophisticated after Luffa became a Super Saiyan. But in this reality, Luffa was still at the power level she had been at the age of nineteen. Telepathy on that level, with an alien, was impossible.

And eventually, after Luffa had neglected enough mealtimes in her despair, it was Kandai who reached out to comfort her. He didn't know why she was upset. Indeed, she had been distant towards him for days without any apparent reason. But he still knew how to charm her, and how to get her to vent her emotions without hearing the context behind them.

The answer was combat.

Their battleground was on the far side of the planet. Dorlu Prime was mostly a primeval wilderness covered in sparse vegetation and inhospitable wastes. The Dorluns had grand dreams for the planet, but their colony was only a tiny speck of civilization on an otherwise uninhabited world. And so it was easy for Luffa and Kandai to find a suitable place to fight without damaging anything important.

It was a one-sided affair. At her present level, Luffa's powers were no match for Kandai's, but that didn't stop her from hitting him with everything she had. As for Kandai, he held back, allowing Luffa to fight to her fullest without shutting her down too quickly. He still fought back, but only to keep her motivated to try harder.

In the end, Luffa put everything she had left into a final assault, charging all of her power into the fingertips of her left hand, and firing a focused beam of ki at his heart. But he was too fast to hit, and before she could react, he was grasping her by the wrist and spoiling her aim. She tried to headbutt him, only for Kandai to use his free hand to deliver a chop to her neck. Luffa collapsed to the ground in a heap. She was still conscious, but too weary to move.

"Not bad, Luffa," he said as he alighted beside her. "I guess training those blue folks really helped you improve."

"Th-thank you," Luffa said between gasps. When she finally found the strength to roll over onto her back, she saw Kandai had lain down beside her.

"Something's got you all riled up," Kandai said. "I don't know what it is, and I guess you're never gonna tell me, but I could sense it in those punches of yours. Oh, and that red laser beam thing you just used a minute ago. Where'd you learn that one?"

"Long... story..." Luffa said.

"Yeah, well your emotions were all over the place," Kandai said. "It's like you wanted revenge for something, and I don't even know what for. If I didn't know better, I'd think you wanted me dead."

"Maybe..." Luffa said with a bitter chuckle.

"Whatever it is, I'm sorry, okay?" Kandai said.

With a loud grunt, Luffa sat upright, and began grabbing at her black, sleeveless shirt.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"The same thing we always do after we spar," Luffa said as she pulled the shirt over her head and tossed it to the side. "Unless you're not up for it."

"Well, yeah, but I didn't think you'd be in the mood," Kandai said. "You haven't been... I mean, for the last month or so..."

Luffa started taking off her boots next. "I know. I've had a lot on my mind, that's all. And... and..."

He kissed her before she had to struggle to find the words that she couldn't say. Luffa returned his embrace, and they continued on in this way, lying in the crater they had made in the dusty wastes.

She was conflicted about making love to him this way. She was married to him in this world, but in the old reality, they had become enemies, and she had pledged herself to Zatte. It felt wrong to pursue her feelings towards either one, but after the news about Wampaaan'riix, she couldn't stand the isolation any longer. She needed to be held, and to be reassured, and Kandai could understand her without the need for words.

Later, as she lay beside him, her head cradled between his chest and his arm, she decided to ask the question. "Did you know my father was negotiating with the Tikosi?"

"What?" he asked, somewhat drowsily.

"I found out," she said. "Don't ask me how. He was plotting something with them. That's why he was so grim after he found out they were all dead."

"You're kidding, right?" Kandai asked. "No... no, you're serious, aren't you? Well, no. He never said anything to me about it. What the hell were we doing during all those patrols then?"

"They wanted a Saiyan specimen," Luffa said. "That's what the Tikosi would do. They wanted the Dorluns to study their abilities, and they wanted to study our zenkai."

"Luffa, why are you telling me this now?" Kandai asked.

"Because I want a straight answer," Luffa replied. "And you're a lousy liar after we've... well, you know."

"No! He never said anything about this," Kandai said. "What, you think he was going to hand me over to them?"

"I don't know," Luffa lied. "He might have had someone else in mind. Maybe even me."

"You're his daughter."

"So tell me," Luffa said. "If it had been me, he would have had say something to you, sooner or later. Would you have gone along with it?"

"The Tikosi are dead," Kandai said. "Your dad's long gone."

"Answer the question," Luffa insisted.

He sighed, then said: "Well yeah, I probably would have. I mean, what else could I do? Fight your dad and take on all the Tikosi all by myself? I'd just get us both killed."

As chilling as the answer was, Luffa found the honesty refreshing. "I see your point," was all she could think of to say.

"I mean, what would you do if they had picked me instead?" Kandai asked. "You're telling me you'd rush off and die in a fight you knew you couldn't win?"

Luffa was about to say that she would, without question. Her pride as a Saiyan would have demanded it, and the example set by the tales of the Old Heroes would have inspired her to fight in spite of the odds. She had proven her convictions time and again during he career as the Legendary Super Saiyan.

But then she thought of Demigra's truce, and how she still hadn't decided whether or not she would accept it. The conflict with Demigra seemed pointless now. The Time Patrol no longer existed, and the history they had fought for was already gone. How would the Old Heroes of Saiyan Legend have dealt with that?

"I think, once, I would have died for you without hesitation," Luffa said. "Now... I'm not so sure."

"So it's this business with your dad that's been bothering you this whole time," Kandai said. "And you were worried that I was in cahoots with him."

"Let's just say I've been rethinking my whole life," Luffa said. "And I'm seeing everyone I know with a new perspective."

"Oh yeah? And what do you see in me?" Kandai asked.

"You're a pushover," Luffa said.

"Hmph. Yeah, I suppose you've got me there."

"You said before you prefer to go with the flow, that you prefer to be a follower. The truth is you're just a doormat. You'll play along with whoever offers you the safest or most profitable path."

"I never pretended otherwise," Kandai said.

"You're probably right," Luffa said. "I just assumed you were more principled than that. I saw something noble in you, but that was only what I wanted to see. I put you on a pedestal because you were so much stronger than me. The ideal man."

"You weren't complaining a few minutes ago, when I was--"

"Yeah, yeah, you do that part just fine," Luffa said with a wry smile. "I guess I let that cloud my perception too.

"So we can call it off here," Kandai said. "If that's what you want. No hard feelings. Strictly business between us from here on out."

"I didn't say I wanted that," Luffa said.

"Then what do you want?" Kandai asked. "You've always had this glint in your eye, Luffa. Like you craved something with all your heart, and you could never put it into words. So how do we get it for you? You always talked about starting a family, but... well, I think we already know how to do that."

Luffa sat up and looked around for her clothes. "I... I think we should head back to the settlement," she said.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing!" she said, more anxiously than she wanted to sound. "I just... remembered I needed to check on something."

*******

Luffa did not spend long in the settlement, and headed directly for the Saiyans' ship. She fetched the medical scanner, and waved it around herself. She had done this before, but only to investigate the lack of certain scars on her body. Now, she understood that Demigra had somehow transported her into her younger body, that was no longer a mystery. But something Kandai had said to her in the wastes had convinced her to perform a more thorough examination.

The results were as she suspected, but before she could truly react, she heard Zatte and Kandai on board. They were looking for her, and so she stepped out to greet them.

"I just got back from meeting with the Elders," Zatte said. "It's not perfect, but I think I have a way to join your crew, Luffa."

Luffa was confused for a moment. She had completely forgotten Zatte's report to her superiors.

"Wow, you really worked her over, huh?" Zatte said to Kandai as she pointed at several scrapes and bruises on Luffa's arms and head. "I could sense you two going at it all the way from here."

"Whoa whoa! Hey...!" Kandai said. "You could tell we were--?! Oh, wait, you meant fighting. Well, yeah. Sometimes a little spar is the best way to get out of a funk."

"Sure, it's just weird to see Luffa be the one who gets all worn out," Zatte said. "I can come back later."

"No, it's fine," Luffa said. "The Dorlun Elders. What did they say?"

"In principle, they like the idea of a Dorlun operative maintaining a presence in space," Zatte began. "The problem is that I have obligations here, to this place. I'm not at liberty to explain that, but I can't just be re-assigned offworld so easily."

"So they want some other Dorlun to go with us instead?" Kandai asked. "That wasn't the idea. It's you or nobody."

"That's what I told them," Zatte said. "And they agree, I'm the best qualified for the position. The Elders just don't like one Dorlun running off by herself with a pair of aliens. But I've read the Holybook, and I think there's a way to flip this around to satisfy them."

"Holybook?" Kandai asked.

"Their religious text," Luffa said.

"Oh."

"Basically, if there was a familial connection between us, that would clear everything up. A legal relationship-- like adoption or marriage-- can be just as valid as blood." Zatte paused and looked at them both before continuing. "All right, so this might be a little too radical for you Saiyans, but hear me out. If I was married into your family, then I would have sufficient justification to go with you, and the Elders would approve of my transfer."

"What?" Luffa asked.

"Married to who?" Kandai asked.

"Well, Luffa," Zatte said. "I mean, scripturally, it could be to either one of you, but you're not my type, Kandai. No offense."

"Are you out of your mind?" Luffa exclaimed. She pointed at Zatte, then at Kansai. "I can't marry you, I'm already married!"

"No, this could work," Kandai said. He began to rub his hand over his chin as he considered it. "Once we make it official, we're free and clear, aren't we?"

"That's right," Zatte said. "The marriage itself is the thing. Once that's accomplished, well, I can play it any way you'd like."

"Well, this could work, I guess," Kandai said. "Luffa and I had been talking, and maybe things aren't working out between us as well as we thought."

"Oh?" Zatte said. "I don't want to cause any trouble between you..."

"It's fine," Kandai said. "I'm not that thick-headed. If things play out that way, then so be it. Or Luffa can switch back and forth for a while until she makes up her mind. Right, Luffa?"

"I... I need to get some air," Luffa said.

"What's wrong?" Zatte asked. "Look, if this is a problem for you, I apologize. I just thought--"

Luffa ran past them and kept going until she had made it through the entrance hatch. She did not stop until she reached her personal quarters in the settlement.

It was all wrong. So very wrong. Wampaaan'riix was dead, and Dr. Topsas didn't even know him or Luffa well enough to care. Kandai barely seemed to value their marriage at all, and Zatte was willing to exploit that to get a berth on their ship.

Perhaps it would have been simpler to part ways with Kandai and make a clean break, but even that option was muddied by the results of her medical scan. She was pregnant. It was so early into the term that she hadn't noticed it before, but the scanners could tell. He was only a cluster of cells in her uterus, but her only son, Katem, was already beginning to enter this reality.

She could still cut ties with Kandai anyway. His behavior in the old history had already proven that he cared little for their son. He might have been grateful to be excused from the responsibility of fatherhood, but it still rankled her to consider it.

Then there was Zatte. Luffa felt like their relationship in this reality had gotten off to a wrong start. There was something cynical about Zatte's approach, something she couldn't put her finger on. Then it hit her: The Makyans.

In the old history, the Makyans had captured Zatte after the Tikosi massacre. Luffa never learned exactly when that was supposed to have happened, or why the Makyans had been on Dorlu Prime in the first place. Luffa had rescued Zatte from their power, and that had changed the entire dynamic of their romance. Luffa had no intention of letting Zatte fall into their evil clutches again, but that meant her relationship with Zatte would never be quite the same as what Luffa had once known.

And that only raised further questions. Was it right to keep Zatte off Dorlu Prime to protect her from a possible Makyan raid? Would the Makyans even go to Dorlu Prime without the Tikosi attack to precede it? How could Luffa warn the colonists of a threat she wasn't even sure about? And whatever she decided, what would be the effects of those choices?

Her son, Katem, had died in the old reality, betrayed by everyone who claimed to be on his side. She imagined him as a grown man, still calling himself "Xibuyas"-- the name King Rehval had given him. She imagined him dying, abandoned on some nameless battlefield, wondering why his mother had been too weak to spare him from such a fate. Now, she had a second chance to get things right for him, but was it right? Was it worth Wampaaan'riix's life? And even if it was right, how could Luffa be sure that her son wouldn't end up suffering the same fate, or worse?

She couldn't stand it any longer. Every action, every inaction, every decision she made in this new world was fraught with consequences. It filled her with a dread she couldn't describe, and in her haste to be rid of it, she flung open the cabinet in the corner, and reached out for the glowing scroll that lay inside.

Demigra threatened to kill her if she used it, but that no longer mattered. If he had the power he claimed, then she would die in battle and have done with it. And if not...

She had no idea what a victory over Demigra could even be. If he had truly destroyed all of history, then killing him would mean there would be nothing left, except for her. What then?

The thought of drifting alone in the emptiness was enough to stay her hand. Was that her fate? To be the last survivor of a doomed universe?

Her hands began to tremble. She set her teeth and balled her fists, drawing blood from her palms as she tried to force them to be steady. Then, with a defiant snarl, she reached out and took the scroll, moving as fast as she possibly could, faster than her mind could second-guess herself.

The scroll glowed more intensely as she drew it towards her chest . And just as she wondered what was supposed to happen, the world around her went white.

*******

[??????????????????]

Luffa remembered this place, or at least another one just like it. It was a featureless expanse. The ground was smooth and snow white, while the skies roiled with turbulent aurorae. The scroll was still in her left hand.

"I'm back?" she asked. "This is where I was before I ended up on Dorlu Prime. Isn't it?"

"Yes. It's good to see you, Luffa."

The sound of another voice startled Luffa so much that she nearly jumped out of her boots. She spun around, and found a familiar face, one she had never expected to see.

"Dotz?!" Luffa gasped.

She was a fortune-teller Luffa had befriended at the beginning of the war with the Jindan Cult. Much of her appearance was the same as the last time Luffa had seen her. Dotz was tall, dressed in a long purple gown with hood around her face. A mauve shawl was draped across her shoulders, and her thin bony hands were clasped together in a hopeful gesture. The only differences lay in some of the arcane ornaments she wore, and her age. The Dotz Luffa had known was middle-aged. Now, she looked to be much older. Her once-subtle wrinkles now cut deeper lines in her face, and the greying hair under her hood now shone stark white.

"Oh, goodness. You look just like I remembered," Dotz said with a smile.

Luffa stepped toward her and placed her free hand on Dotz's shoulder. "Where are we, Dotz? Did you bring us here? What happened to you?"

She took a deep breath before answering. "It's funny," she said. "I've been wanting to find you for so long, and now that you're here I can't think of what to say. I, uh, well... I didn't bring us here. Let me start with that. This is just where you happened to be when I finally found you."

"You've been looking for me?" Luffa asked.

Dotz nodded solemnly. "Yes," she said. "Ever since you vanished that day on Planet Nagaoka. Everyone believed you had died. I mean... well, the planet exploded and everyone knew you were there when it happened. It made sense that you had perished there. It made sense to everyone, but not to me."

"I survived," Luffa said. "A magic dragon rescued me and took me into the distant future."

"Yes, yes," Dotz said. "I knew it had to be something like that. Shenron."

"You know about Shenron?" Luffa asked. "Then you know the rest? The Dragon Balls? The Time Patrol?"

"No," Dotz said, "but I've seen bits and pieces in my visions. What I meant was that it had to have something to do with you being sent forward in time. That was why I could never get a proper reading whenever I tried to tell your fortune. My psychic abilities improved after we first met, do you remember?"

Luffa nodded. "We couldn't have fought the war without you, Dotz," she said. "Well, we might have, but it would have been a lot bloodier without your ability to predict which planets the Jindan Cultists would attack. And you worked so hard to improve your abilities even further. I... never really got the chance to tell you how much I respected you for that."

She became overcome with emotion, and before she knew it, she dropped the scroll and embraced Dotz with both arms.

"Oh, well, I wasn't expecting this..." Dotz said.

"I've missed you," Luffa said. "You and all the others... I..."

"There now... it's okay," Dotz said as she patted Luffa on the back. "I... forgot how young you were when you disappeared. To tell the truth, I've been trying to find you for so long, it started to feel like an abstraction. Now that you're here, I... well. It's very good to see you."

"How did you find me?" Luffa asked. "I don't even know where this place is."

"After the war, I continued to develop my abilities," Dotz explained. "It always bothered me that I couldn't tell your fortune, even a little. That's why I didn't believe you died on Nagaoka. That should have been easy to foresee, but I had no idea until it happened. Well, over time, I got better at telling fortunes. I learned some new tricks, and improved on some old ones. I found out you were still alive in the far future, but there was still something obstructing my vision. It took me a while to get it right, but I finally managed to get past that obstacle. And uh... here I am."

"You transported yourself through time?" Luffa asked. "You never had that kind of ability before?"

"Well, no, and I don't have it now," Dotz said. "I'm not really here, Luffa. I can talk to you and touch you, but I think that's just because this vision I'm having is so focused, so clear. There's nothing else here in this time and place. So there's nothing to distract me from what I came to find, which is you."

"Then... then there's nothing you can do," Luffa said.

Slowly, she released Dotz from the embrace and stepped back. "When I saw you, I thought you might have had something to do with the scroll, or this place. Or maybe you could take me back with you."

Dotz shook her head. "I'm sorry. I'm not really clear on what's going on. I saw visions of a man, screaming something about making a 'new history.' Is that why there's nothing here? But how did you survive?"

"It's a long story," Luffa said. "A goddess of time needed my help to stop an evil wizard, and I failed. He destroyed... everything." She waved at the emptiness around them, as if Dotz had not already seen it for herself. "He said he made a timeline just for me to live in if I left him alone... but... it's no good, Dotz. I'd just make a mess of that world too."

Luffa pointed at the scroll she had dropped. "He told me that if I changed my mind, I could use that scroll to take me to him for a final battle. But instead it just took me to this place. I don't know why. I don't understand any of it."

"What about the other one?" Dotz asked. "I sensed another presence in this time."

"Who?" Luffa asked. "As far as I know, it's just Demigra and myself at the end of existence. Who else could there be? Wait... you don't mean..."

"That's right. She's referring to me."

The new voice was not one Luffa had heard before. She and Dotz looked around, but found no sign of the speaker.

"Who's there?" Luffa asked, unsure whether she actually wanted answer. She nearly suggested that Dotz should stay close to her, but thought better of it. Even if Dotz were truly here, what could Luffa possibly do to protect her?

At last, she noticed the scroll beginning to glow a brighter shade of purple, and it unfurled all on its own. Luffa watched as something began to emerge from the parchment, like an animal rising up from a murky swamp. The form was indistinct, more like a glowing fog than a person. Then, as it cleared the parchment, it took shape, and Luffa could recognize the vague outline.

"It can't be," Luffa said. "I mean, you're the only one left, but how can you be here?"

Despite Luffa's confusion, there was no mistaking the Divine Tokitoki Bird. He floated there with outstretched wings, and stared intently at Luffa.

"Well then, Luffa," the voice said. "Are you finally ready to fight?"

NEXT: One With Everything.

[hellfire--cult]

Baring Teeth {Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader} - Ch. 7

Picture for Banner: pitifulbaby

Chapters: Masterlist (Go here to see list of chapters.)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Slow burn, Modern!AU, Mechanic!Eddie

⚠️Warnings: Ab*se, Violence, Mental Health, Cursing, Smut (mild), treat it as a normal Enemies 2 Lovers book, but the A/B/O dynamic will appear at some point. Trauma, manipulation, dirty talk, omegaverse topics.

Crossposted on: Wattpad & AO3

A/N: I promise, we're entering the mature zone soon! Just gotta be patient with me ;) Remember, all reblogs are very much appreciated, as well as your comments!

Also! I am uploading a very short story about Stripper!Eddie and a very Shy reader ;) Here you go.

Anyways, Enjoy!

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Chapter 7

“Please, please, give me a break, I can’t do this again, please!” You yelled while laying on the hospital’s bed, your upper body propped up with each foot hooked into some metal pedals in each corner of the bed to keep your legs spread.

The doctor pulled away, looking up from in between your legs with pity eyes and shook her head.

“We can’t stop the process sweetheart, a pause can cause an alteration and we’re already more than halfway there! I promise!” You were processing what she was saying, with tears streaming down your cheeks, your bottom lip busted open from biting onto it way too hard to control your cries. The pain was unbearable, feeling like you were being split open, your insides being ripped apart. 

But you wanted this. You both wanted this. Something is wrong with you, it has to be. There’s no other explanation for it, no matter if the doctors ran a bunch of tests on you and said everything should really be fine, you didn’t believe that. Something was not working, but you really wanted this. 

So you nodded for your doctor to proceed, and the pain worsened from there.

———————————————————————————

“Buckley!” You busted the bar doors open in a slam, red faced, completely pissed off, already strutting towards the all too well booth and there she was. Hiding behind Steve at the corner of the seat, and your glare was digging a bullet through her skull. Robin gulped and looked over Steve’s shoulder.

“H-Hi! I’m sorry I didn’t–”

“Sorry?! You left me to do Hargrove’s presentation all by myself! And now I find you drinking again after telling me you felt sick in your stomach today! What’s the fucking deal Robin!?” You were pissed, so much, you didn’t notice the man sitting across Robin while he took a sip of his beer.

“Shit, baby, I’m sorry– I just didn't feel like going into work today either, and now I feel better!” She tried to excuse herself but you shook your head at her, sitting inside the booth, right next to the man that was looking at you as if you were crazy because you still hadn’t noticed him, and now you were sitting next to him.

Your eyes were filled with rage, and also another feeling you didn’t want to feel with Robin. You were feeling used. As if she had taken advantage of you for this project, but you didn’t even have to punish her for it, because–

“Beer for She-Hulk.” You heard Jonathan talk, and he knew you too well, placing the cold beer right in front of your face. Whenever you were angry, you ordered beer instead of a sweet drink. You grabbed onto the bottle and took a large sip of it, Steve’s eyes frowning in worry as he looked back and forth to you and the man next to you.

“Um–” Robin began and you slammed your bottle on the table, giving a huge sigh. You looked down at the condensation of the bottle, and you knew you would have to deliver the news to Robin. So without looking up, you kept staring at the label of the beer.

“Mrs. Liana took you off our project.” And silence fell on the table. Robin was looking at you, completely perplexed as you kept looking down at the bottle. She knew she didn’t help you much with the project, but it still stung in her heart that she was ripped away from it.

“You didn’t stop her?” She asked you and you looked up at her with a frown on your eyebrows.

“What did you want me to say? All the beta presentations of the project were done by me because you didn’t know what to say Robs. No matter if I did a speech for you or not! And then, the final presentation and you didn’t show either!” You did try to help Robin be more into the project, knowing it was a big opportunity for the both of you, but she was busy with Vickie visiting, or going out with Steve, or ‘feeling sick’.

Robin was looking now at her own bottle of beer, feeling completely dejected. She knew she had it coming, her own negligence kicking her right back in the ass. She sighed and took a sip of her drink, giving you a nod.

“It’s fine. I deserve it. But it means more work for you then.” You wanted to yell at her, telling her that she didn’t really help, so it would really just remain the same for you. You took a deep breath in, calmed down, and gave Robin a nod.

“Yes. But it’s fine, I can handle it.” You shrugged and took another sip, a little bit calmer now. You were stressed because of this, because it meant all the meetings and getting together with clients will be thrown your way, but this was nothing. You liked the distraction.

“Hey, I’m sorry… I had my head stuck in useless stuff.” You shook your head at her and smiled sadly.

“Hey, at least you got a life. I only have my work, and a list of useless people that don’t know how to satisfy someone else’s needs.” You say, taking out a pack of flavored marlboro from your suit’s pocket. You were in the smoking section of the bar, and each booth had vents over their heads to keep the smoke out. You lit it up to take a large swig out of the stick, letting the smoke fill your lungs to then exhale out, feeling your muscles relax.

“Um…” You heard Steve call you out and you looked at him with a confused look on your face, but he wasn’t looking at you. You followed his gaze towards the person that was sitting next to you, and had been staring at you since you sat down.

Brown irises locked with your own eyes, and you felt a cold sweat invade you, but no anger came to your chest. You were far too stressed for this bullshit, so you sighed heavily and rested against the back of the booth, looking back towards the bottle. 

“Great.” You say, taking a sip of your drink while holding the smoke on your other hand. 

“I don’t know how you didn’t notice me.” Eddie asks you while taking another sip of his drink, his stomach was in a knot while sitting next to you, and he could sense your distress ever since you entered the bar. 

“You aren’t the center of the world Munson, or my world for that matter. Sorry to disappoint you.” You say bitterly and Eddie bit the inside of his bottom lip to contain the snarky remarks he wanted to say to you, but Steve shot him one glare with a shake of his head. Eddie let out a shaky, angry, breath and clenched his jaw tightly.

“About the other night–”

“Please don’t.” You immediately spat out through your teeth. You didn’t have the energy to deal with his half ass apology, and you weren’t in the mood of apologizing either. Eddie’s eyes perked up at your response and looked at you, his mood souring each minute it passed.

“I’m trying to be civil here, Peach.” He calls you out and you roll your eyes towards the ceiling, taking another swig of your cigarette, looking at him to blow the smoke into his face. He closed his eyes but didn’t flinch, his body heating up with anger as he opened them up to look at you again.

“Forget about it. You trying to be civil Munson is like a penguin learning to fucking fly.” And you heard Steve sigh heavily, rubbing his eyes with his hand while Robin stared at the interaction. Eddie scoffed, slamming the bottle on the table to look at you.

“What is your fucking problem? I am trying to apologize, and you can’t help but be an insufferable cunt.” 

“Look in the mirror Munson.” You took a large swig of the cigarette, putting it out in the ashtray. “Like I said, forget it. I don’t want half assed apologies you don’t really want to make, and we don’t have to act like we tolerate each other. Yeah?” You say, blowing the smoke out of your lips as you talked. The panging on your chest was due to realizing you were sitting next to your mortal enemy, but it increased knowing he wanted to lie to you.

An apology? From him? Yeah, right.

“What the hell are you even smoking?” He asked, grabbing the pack in front of you to inspect it. “Does this really say Melon flavored? Jesus christ.” He dropped the pack back in front of you to take a sip of his own beer. You were about to retort to him, tell him he can shove his original flavored camels right up his ass, but your phone started to ring. 

You pulled it out, the tune of Harry Potter filling the air as you looked at the caller ID. You didn’t recognize the number, so it might be from your work. You sighed. You didn’t expect to have these kinds of calls right after your final presentation. You believed this would happen after meeting with a few clients, giving them your contact for future conversations. You slid the green button and put the phone in your ear.

“Hello?” You greet, taking a sip of your beer.

“Hi there Mousy.”

You spat it all over Steve and the table before you. Coughing wildly as you patted your chest to regain your breathing. Steve had stood up with a yell, trying to wipe his face and clothes as Robin let out a wild laugh, pointing at the stains on his shirt. Eddie was just bewildered at the interaction, but couldn’t help but hold in strangled chuckles in his throat.

“Shit!” You yell, grabbing onto a napkin to wipe away your mouth and hand Steve some more as he glared at you. 

“Damn, did I call at a bad time?” You heard him chuckle on the other side, and you felt nerves and warmth invade your whole body. He sounded way too good on the phone, Jesus christ. 

“I– wait–” You stood up, motioning for Robin to keep an eye on your stuff and she nodded at you while holding her giggles in, trying to fix Steve’s hair. The brown haired guy was still glaring at you as you made motion with your hand as a sorry. You stepped away from the booth, walking outside of the bar to talk a little bit more privately. “Sorry, I’m at a bar with friends and could barely hear you.”

“Ah, so I did call at a bad time.” He says, and you could even hear the smile on his face as he did, because he wasn’t going to hang up. You bit your bottom lip, holding back a smile as you scratched your cheek nervously. 

“How did you get my number?” You ask him and you hear some clinking on the other side, and then a gulp. You licked your lips at the sound and you cursed at the sky for how needy you were being that the sound of ‘gulping’ was making you horny.

“Well, my agent told me you are my editor in chief for that article, so of course I asked for your number so we could stay in touch, you know… just in case.” He was smirking against the phone and you know it. “I never call other people that aren’t acquaintances on my personal phone… But I can make an exception for you, Mousy.”

Oh, he was smooth. He was telling you he was calling you from his personal phone instead of the work related one. Meaning that the only person with access to this phone, was him only, and not his agent. You gripped onto the phone tightly against your ear and you let out a small giggle.

“Is that supposed to impress me Mr. Hargrove? Remember, we work together now.” You explain to him and you hear him laugh on the other side.

“Alright, humor me then, Mousy. When’s the next meeting happening?” You scrunched up your nose in thought and counted the days in your head.

“I believe is next wednesday Mr. Hargrove. Curtis Delore was very interested in your Balenciaga design.” You explain to him and you hear him whistle on the other side. 

“Delore, huh. But Wednesday? Don’t you think it’s a little far away?” Oh, things are turning interesting now. You licked the inside of your right cheek, feeling your stomach fill with butterflies at the attention this man was giving you.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I thought I could meet with you tomorrow. Discuss my work, and what we should say to the clients, just so all of our stories match.” Your breath was knocked out of your lungs. He was asking you out, this model was asking you out, on a saturday.

“Oh, we can definitely do that.”

“Great–” 

“On monday, at my office.” You reply to him, and on the other side of the phone, Billy Hargrove was stunned. He was rejected. Holy fuck, he was rejected. He should be angry, hang up, because no one belittled him like that. No one.

Yet, you… for whatever reason it is, he couldn’t help it. He was adoring this game of cat and mouse, which he never did, much less for someone like yourself. It’s not that you weren’t beautiful, but he always went for people of his same radius. Meaning actresses, models, singers. Famous people. 

None of the relationships Billy had lasted more than two months. The relationships were empty, filled with sex and empty conversations, fake interviews, fake scenarios his agent made him make up and talk about them in a talk show. He never had to flirt more than one night, much less go through the hustle of almost begging for someone’s number. But you were like a drug to him right now, and he wanted more, desired more. 

“Ah, so the game is still on, very well.” Your heart was on your throat, and you were about to say goodbye to him but suddenly his voice deepened in your ear and you almost dropped your device to the floor. “Mousy, one of these days you are going to come to me, on your own accord… And I’ll show you just how good I can make you feel.”

Your breathing became heavy as you clenched your legs together. Heat was rushing from your core, going all over your body at his words. You wanted to take it all back, tell him you’ll meet tomorrow, because the tension was too strong right now, and you could barely handle it. You knew that you wouldn’t be able to satisfy yourself tonight, or the day after now. There was no way.

“I–”

“Goodbye Mousy. See you on monday.” And like that, you heard the line click. Your mouth was open, staring at nothing, slowly blinking as you felt the air leaving your mouth but not feeling it really filling up your lungs. After two seconds of processing what happened, you smiled and squealed loudly, doing a little jump in your place as you tightened the phone to your chest.

You were sure he would believe you were rejecting him there, and to be honest, you were unsure if that would have been the right decision to do when he was kind of your employer in this article. But it’s temporary, literally month temporary, so you two wouldn’t be working together for long. You couldn’t help the smile on your face, walking back into the bar and sitting in the booth again, not caring any longer of who was sitting next to you.

“I’m sorry Steve.” You said with a wince as you saw how badly he was glaring at you, your smile dropping immediately at his state. His hair was pushed back, with the wet stains all over his polo shirt.

“Who called for you to react like that?” Steve asked with a sneer as Robin kept wiping his hair away with a tissue, grimacing at the smell of beer in his hair.

“Oh, that was–” And you froze. This wasn’t a hook up from the dating app, nor a stranger you see on the street. He might not even want this to be public, this teasing of yours, or this friendship, or whatever it is. Not even to your own friends. You felt your chest press on you and gulped, giving him a soft smile. “My mom.”

“So you jump like a high school girl when your mom calls you? You must love her very much.” Eddie said next to you, with venom in his tone now. You winced under your breath but kept the smile on your face as you turned to look at him.

“That I do.” You saw his jaw clench and unclench and he was fighting with everything in him to not call you out. But he had to calm down, breathing deeply and giving you a nod, turning to look at Robin. He knows that it wasn’t your fault that she was pushed aside from that project, and he knew you were feeling bad about it. He noticed it when your bottom lip quivered when you said she wasn’t going to participate in it anymore.

But now, you were lying again. So he took a big sip out of his beer, taking it all in one go. He raised his hand up to Jonathan to ask for another one, and when he came to the table, everyone ordered another set of beers, except for you.

“A Strawberry Daiquiri.” You said to Jonathan and he raised his eyebrows up at you with a confused look on his face.

“Not angry anymore? Sitting next to Munson? Really?” Robin was squinting while staring at you, wondering what was going on, but she knew you would tell her sooner or later. Right? You were looking at your phone, saving the newest contact on your list.

‘B. H.’

“Yeah, I’m in a better mood now.”

End of chapter 7

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[yearnforag0ny]

The MD and DVM; Chapter 1

Author’s note: hii omg this is the first fanfiction I’ve written in about five years now loool…I wrote this because I’ve never seen a harvey fic where the farmer is a veterinarian, and I have seen many questionable things said about farming. I work on a farm, and I am working towards going to veterinary school, so I felt my knowledge might contribute to a unique Harvey fic lol correct me if I’m wrong, tho, and please let me know if I should continue this! Crossposted on ao3 under xxdeaduniverse.

spring 1

You had always loved your grandfather’s property. His death almost broke you. However, you were delighted to find that he had left you his farm, Cinnamon Meadow. It was a quiet slice of heaven nestled away in Pelican Town. It still had all its old charm, just some added overgrowth and a lack of crops and animals. 

You graduated from veterinary school a couple of years ago. Visiting your grandfather’s farm ignited your love for animals, and it only grew the older you became. After eight years, you earned a bachelor’s degree in animal science and were officially a doctor in veterinary medicine. 

Since your veterinary school was near Zuzu City, you picked up a job offer at a clinic in the heart of the city and worked almost exclusively with dogs and cats. It was incredibly fun; however, you had forgotten your initial dream of working with farm animals instead of small ones. So when your grandfather died, you were happy to see he left you the farm in his will. While living in Zuzu City, you would visit Pelican Town every so often to say hello to your grandfather, but more so because Marnie was a client of yours. She called you whenever her animals were having the slightest of health issues. You were happy to answer her calls because it meant you would see cows, catch up with Marnie, and say hello to your grandfather. 

You sighed while you stood on the porch of your grandfather’s old house, which was technically yours now. It was a beautiful spring day. You didn’t realize how much you had missed the sounds of birds chirping. 

Marnie interrupted your peace by slamming the front door on her way out of the house. 

“Whoops! Didn’t mean to let that door slam,” She chuckled. You smiled at her. You were so grateful she agreed to help you move your stuff today. 

“Well, that was the last box,” She sighed in relief. “I’ve gotta run. Shane has to work a shift at JojaMart, and I need to watch Jas. You should stop by Robin’s house today so she can start building you a coop!” Marnie exclaimed, smiling at you.

 “Yeah, I probably will. I want to get this place up and running as soon as possible,” You said, looking out onto the land again.

“I’ll be at the saloon Friday night. You should stop by and introduce yourself to everyone then,” suggested Marnie. 

“That’s a good idea, actually. Gives me enough time to do some work and mentally prepare to meet all the new people,” You chuckled. Marnie rolled her eyes. 

“They’ll love you. Just come by whenever you’re ready, okay?” She winked at you before walking off towards her farm.

You waved goodbye and groaned once you realized you would have to clear some overgrowth to build a chicken coop. You cracked your knuckles, grabbed your axe from the porch, and got to work.

A couple of hours of hard work later, you had a small clearing of land by the farmhouse. You decided that would be enough hard work for today, you weren’t sure when Robin would close up, and you haven’t unpacked anything in your house at all. You set the axe back on your porch and made yourself look somewhat presentable. You noticed your cat, Horace, had already taken a liking to the new digs. He had plopped himself on top of a pile of boxes. Horace was a fat, tuxedo tabby cat and essentially your best friend since you had adopted him your junior year of college. You gave him a pat on the head before heading out to Robin’s.

You admired the peace on your walk to the mountains. At some point, the hours must have melted away because three o’clock. You finally noticed how tired you were from moving in and doing physical work on the land. However, your dreams of dozing away were cut short. The walk to Robin’s was not as long as you had anticipated, though, as her house suddenly appeared hidden behind pine trees. You took a moment to admire her house, assuming she had built it herself. Wooden with a blue roof. You liked it. Once you spotted the telescope on the left, you immediately wondered how beautiful the skies must be here. You hadn’t seen a sky free of light pollution in years.

You cautiously opened the front door to see a counter with a ginger woman standing on the other side reading a newspaper. She looked up when the door opened, smiling at you. 

“You must be Y/N! I’m so glad to meet you finally. I heard someone was moving into Cinnamon Meadow, but I didn’t know so soon. I’m Robin,” She said, coming out behind the counter to shake your hand. You shook it, happy to realize she wasn’t startled by some stranger entering her home. You smiled at her.

 “Hi. Marnie said to come see you if I wanted anything built, so here I am,” You chuckled. Robin looked delighted. 

“Well, sure! What were you wanting to have built?” She eagerly questioned. It was easy to see she was excited; not many villagers in Pelican Town needed new construction. 

“I’m going to get Cinnamon Meadow up and running again, so I’ll need a new chicken coop. And then a barn. And probably house renovations. I need a lot done,” You sheepishly rubbed your neck, wondering if this was too much to request all at once. Robin defied you and lit up even more. 

“Great! I can get started on the chicken coop tomorrow!” She exclaimed. 

“Deal.”

~

After paperwork and settling payments, you returned to Cinnamon Meadow to continue yardwork. You felt so relieved that the coop wasn’t too expensive to build. You had been saving up since you paid off your tuition, and you were finally happy to invest some of the funds into your future. Around six o’clock, your exhaustion won over your ambition, and you decided to settle down for the night. You unpacked enough kitchen supplies to scrounge up some frozen dinner, took a hot shower, and promptly fell asleep with Horace in your small bed around eight.

You slept better than you had in ages. You even had a dream where your farm was complete, cows and all. But you knew something was missing. Or rather, a special someone. What was the farm if you had no one to share it with? You thought to yourself within your dream. You had always told yourself you didn’t need to be with someone, that as long as you made yourself happy, it was all that mattered. But you still ached for it. Your dream was cut short by a particular fat cat lightly smacking your cheek. 

“What the–Horace!” You exclaimed.

 “I was sleeping so well…” You sighed. You checked the time on your phone. 6 AM? Might as well get up now and get some yardwork done I guess… You thought to yourself with an elongated yawn. You realized you were a little sore from all the work yesterday. You groaned, knowing there would be more to come today. Slowly, you pulled yourself out of bed and organized some food for Horace. As expected, he flew to his breakfast and you figured you should do the same for yourself. A cup of coffee and one granola bar later, you pulled on your favorite pair of overalls and stretched. Today was going to be long. You intended to clear more of the land and buy and plant seeds.

You headed outside to start working and saw Robin hammering away at the coop. Her enthusiasm for her work made you smile. 

“Morning, Robin! Any coffee for you?” You greeted. 

“NO THANKS!” She yelled back with a smile. You wondered why she was screaming before noticing she was wearing headphones. You chuckled, grabbed your axe, and went straight to work.

Around one, you figured you should take a break to go to the store. You briefly recall Marnie mentioning a place called Pierre’s. After trading your axe for your wallet, you started heading in the general direction of town. It was another beautiful day. Are all the days here going to be as lovely as they have been? You wondered, smiling to yourself. You noticed that the change of scenery from moving here had already positively affected you.

You walked into town and focused on the square before you. It's small but adorable. Lamposts and trees lined the square, along with a few buildings. The one before you was the doctor’s clinic, with Pierre’s store on the other side. You briefly wondered about the town doctor for a moment. You knew you should get yourself checked up sooner rather than later. After doing farm research in your undergrad, you unfortunately found out the hard way that farm work was no joke. You filed away this thought for later and walked into Pierre’s.

The general store was small but had everything you could ever need. The older gentleman with glasses behind the single register smiled at you.

 “You must be the new farmer! Y/N right? I’m Pierre. It’s so nice to have somebody new in town!” He exclaimed. You wondered when the last time somebody new moved into Pelican Town. 

“Yeah, I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you,” You smiled back. 

“I’m so sorry to hear about your grandfather. He was a great man. Sold me the best crops,” Pierre sighed. You felt a tinge of grief bite at you, pushing it away immediately. 

“He was a good man. I fully intend to restore the farm, though, so I’ll have some crops for you,” You chuckled. Remembering what you came here for, you grabbed a bunch of random seed packets and essentials for your kitchen. You accidentally bumped into a woman with bright green hair in one of the aisles. You quickly learned she was Pierre’s wife, Caroline. 

“You should come to the aerobics class here on Tuesdays! Great way to get to know everyone,” She smiled. The thought of any more exercise than you already had to do on the farm made you cringe. 

“Maybe,” you tentatively said before mentioning it was good to meet her and heading to checkout. You went right home afterward, excited to plant your new seeds. You may have been a little ambitious when you started tilling the dirt; the field you created was large. You also knew if you wanted to make money anytime soon, it would be from crops.

It took forever to till, plant, and water the field. By the time it was 6, you were wiping sweat off your brow and decided that was all you could take today. You headed into your house to make a proper dinner from the groceries you picked up at Pierre’s today: homemade pizza. You savored every bite—your first meal in your first owned house. The thought made you smile. After a shower, you watched TV, cuddling Horace before finally falling asleep for the night.

The following two days seemed to blur together. At some point, you went to Marnie’s to catch up and buy chickens after Robin was done with the coop. You were overjoyed to finally have animals back on the farm and made a mental note to return to Robin’s on Monday to have her start building a barn. However, today was Friday. The day you were going to the saloon. You thought about it–stressed about it–while doing your farm chores that morning. Was everyone going to like you? Would they insist on kicking you out of Pelican Town? Or would you drink enough to forget these irrational thoughts and let go? You decided on the latter. 

By the time five o’clock rolled around, you had showered and started getting ready for your first night out on the town. You threw on your favorite pair of jeans and a sweater with some jewelry. After a little makeup and tweaking your hair, you decided you were ready.

Walking out the door, you felt a cold spring breeze on your back. You were immediately grateful you picked a sweater. As you walked towards the saloon, you looked up at the sky. The sun had just begun to set. It was your favorite time of day. A part of you felt like having drinks on your porch alone instead of being crowded by strangers in a bar, but you knew better than to be a hermit tonight. You had told Marnie you would be there, so you would. 

You could hear faint music and laughter inside as you approached the saloon. A warm glow of light emitted from the windows. You took a deep breath and walked in. The villagers were having so much fun not many even noticed you came in except Marnie. She sat in the center of the bar, smiling and waving at you. A wave of relief washed over you. You smiled and sat down 

next to her.

“I’m so glad you came! I’ll have to introduce you to everyone,” She said, handing you a glass of wine—even more relief. You gulped to soothe your nerves. One by one, Marnie introduced you to some people in the town. You knew you would struggle to remember some of their names after tonight. You met Emily, tending the bar, along with Gus. Leah, an artist who had also moved to the valley from the city. Pam, who seemed like the local drunk. Willy, a sweet fisherman. Marnie pointed out other people; you determined Demetrius was married to Robin because they were dancing together. Some younger kids in the other room were Sebastian, Sam, and Abigail. A young woman with glasses suddenly sat herself next to you.

 “Marnie, is this the new farmer we’ve all been hearing about?” She questioned, smiling at you. 

“Yup! Y/N, meet Maru,” Marnie motioned to her. 

“Hi,” you shyly said with a smile.

 “Y/N is a veterinarian,” Marnie blurted out. You nodded. 

“Good to have another scientist in town,” Maru giggled. “Dr. Y/N, then?” She asked. You laughed. 

“Oh, no, please don’t call me doctor…except when I’m looking at your animals,” You winked, and they laughed. Maru looked in the other direction of the bar, and you saw something go off in her brain.

“I should introduce you to the only other doctor in town,” Maru giggled. 

“Oh, sure, I’ve meant to meet them, actually,” You nodded. Maru took your hand and led you to a table near the jukebox. At the table sat two men having wine. One had long hair and wore a reddish coat, the other with glasses and a mustache wearing a green coat. Before you had time to think further, Maru set her hands down on the table. 

“Gentlemen, this is Y/N. She just moved into Cinnamon Meadow. Harvey, she is also a doctor,” Maru said with a smirk. You briefly wondered which one she was talking to before the man in the glasses smiled. 

“Is that right? I’m the town’s doctor, Harvey,” He introduced himself. You were taking him in. Handsome. Really handsome. It didn’t help you had a thing for mustaches, but he was also smart, evidently. 

“I’m a veterinarian. I planned on getting my MD for a while but decided I liked animals more than people,” This raised a laugh out of them all. 

“Good to meet you, doctor Y/N,” Harvey said, sipping his wine. The man with the long hair introduced himself as Elliott. You immediately let his name slip your mind because you were considering how you would further get to know Harvey. Marnie interrupted your thoughts by calling for you from the bar. 

“Y/N! Come here, you gotta tell me what breed of cows you want to invest in!!” You blushed. 

“I suppose I’ll see you later,” You said, mainly to Harvey. You could feel the alcohol working its way into your system, so it was probably best you get away from him now before you were completely drunk. Harvey looked a little disappointed. 

“Be sure to come see me some time to get checked up,” He quickly mentioned. You nodded, smiling; maybe you weren’t just delusional, and he thought the same about you. You walked back to Marnie, but every fiber of your being wanted to stay and have another drink with him.

[the-navistar-carol]

Aftershocks

Chapter One: A Rockies Start

Crossposted from my Ao3, @the_navistar_carol

Kelly "Vacay" Savannah, Weapons Systems Officer, has been called back to Top Gun years after her graduation, about a mission she knows nothing whatsoever of. Luckily, she's not alone. Her frontseater Marisol "Floodgate" Carter, has been called back, too. OR: Two more people join the Dagger Squad. Not a lot changes, but nothing is the same. Read it all on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41581620/chapters/104294970

The sun rose high above the Rockies in Boulder, and with it rose Kelly Savannah. Some part of her had always craved to race the morning, and the enforced five-A.M. wakeup calls in the Navy had only fed that fire. She hit the trail running, earbuds screwed in, water bottle in her hand, and determination zinging along her nervous system. As a yoke jockey’s backseater, there truly was nothing better than the thrill of a good chase. 

She was chasing the sun. Always.

The Elk Rockies were similar to her home and familiar Sawtooths (Sawteeth, as she and many others had nicknamed), but different enough that they threw the vibe of something new . New was what she needed. New was what she craved . Hence her move from Idaho Falls to Boulder, an entire state away. 

It was a problem that came with being an aviator. Even seasoned as she was – even as best-of-the-best as she knew she was – she would always be chasing the impossible. 

With the Rockies always in her backyard, Kelly had taken to flight training like a bird to water. Thinner air was already something she was used to, unlike her flight partner. Marisol had needed to fight for every G, and fought she had , until the pair topped their class leaderboard. 

She fought the altitude now, air growing thinner as the sky grew brighter. 

Even now, though, the burn in her lungs was nothing compared to the pressure of Marisol’s death-defying maneuvers. When trapped, all an animal had left were its teeth and claws. Kelly, fingers clutching tight to her water bottle, grinned as she crested the ridge and took in the dawn. 

Summer in Boulder meant the out-of-state crowd was gone, but the in-state crowd was kicking up to full swing. Tourists were not always the rowdiest people around. She’d passed three people on the trail that day, even at the asscrack of dawn. Things were ramping up, indeed. Later, that ramp would turn into a full-on slingshot; but from where she stood on Mount Sanitas, things still seemed small. Sometimes too small. 

Back home, after stepping out of the shower, her phone pinged with her third-most-annoying chime, which meant it wasn’t her family, Marisol, or Neil. Through that process of elimination , Kelly mused as she scooped up her phone, gotta be Simon. What he was texting her about at eight in the morning , though, she had no idea. That man rose later than a sloth on a good day, and worked too many nights to be awake before two in the afternoon. 

8:28 A.M, 1 new message

Simon Eriksson: Guess whose brunch date ‘cant make it,’ a g a i n

Ah. Yeah, that would do it. A dick appointment. Simon, unfortunately, had terrible taste in men. It was something that kept her entertained when she was on duty, and something that left her tipsy when she was home. At least he usually went for the attractive red flags, his Latin heritage had done him all the favors in the looks department. Sometimes, Simon’s dating drama made her wish she’d taken Marisol’s offer and moved down to New Mexico, but she loved the snow too much to move in with the desert sun.

Kelly shook her head, thumbs already moving to type her response, but she wasn’t hiding a smile as well as she thought she was. 

Kelly: Is this your way of saying ‘i made a reservation at that nice brunch restaurant and don’t want to waste it by going alone’ ?

Simon, thankfully, responded quickly. It was something his dates rarely did. 

Simon: yes. 11

Well, that settled it. Kelly knew exactly which restaurant he was talking about, because they had watched it when it was built and hedged bets on what it would become. For all the good she had heard about it, its name was still unbearably stupid – The Dylan ? Who named an upper-scale restaurant (a brunch restaurant, too!) ‘The Dylan’? Just the thought of it made her shudder with the thoughts of too-overplayed surfer archetypes, 80’s curtain bangs, and far-outdated slang. Gross. Even during her time at Top Gun, the men hadn’t been posturing surfers, they’d been swaggering airmen. 

She could deal with yoke jockeys. She was one, technically, even as a WSO. Surfer archetypes would be the death of her, if she ever encountered one. Hopefully she’d never make it that far west. 

Two and a half hours later, Kelly slid out of her jeep to greet Simon with a crushing hug. “Sorry you got stood up.” She tucked her car keys in the inside pocket of her jacket. “I’m here, though,” she couldn’t help but tease, “so consider your food saved.” 

He rolled his eyes and slung his arm over her shoulder. His dark, curly hair was tousled, like he’d just gotten out of bed. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d gone back to sleep after texting. When Simon didn’t have anything else to do, he was eating or sleeping. “You coming to Boulder saved the city , Kels.” 

For that, she couldn’t help but smile. As introverted as she could be, she always loved her friends. Simon wasn’t lying, either – she hadn’t chosen Boulder at random for a change of scenery. He’d moved down to it while she was in flight school, and when she had wanted to be anywhere else (that wasn’t Carlsbad or Omaha), Simon had been the first to reach out his hand. She still had yet to look back. Idaho had been its own brand of insane, but Colorado, high for more than the Rockies, challenged it at times. At least, the fire department thought so. The gyms were more crowded, though. Hazards of moving to a city twice the size of her hometown. 

Instead of outwardly reminiscing, Kelly shook her head, smiling still. “How ever will my ego fit through the door, Simme?”

“Oh, not to worry,” he shot back with his signature grin. It curled higher on one side, just so, like he was secretly planning for something to go wrong. Simon was always counting on something going wrong. “I knew you in high school.” 

“Point.” 

They found their table without too much of a struggle. Simon had only needed to ask once, instead of getting turned around between the window-side and wall-side. Kelly’s firm hand on his shirt collar might have had something to do with it. People gave her a wide berth, which was one of the things she liked about her aviator’s jacket and the patches she’d earned. Stylish, came with more than four pockets, and parted crowds. If her ego had ever rocketed sky-high, she would wear the sunglasses, too. “So,” she began as they sat down, “what was the reason this time?” 

Simon shot her a halfhearted glare. “Not even gonna give me moping time?” He was, however, relaxed. He’d ‘moped’ already, and she presumed he’d dumped whichever man refused to make the cut this time. “I’m not giving him a third date.” 

Their waiter came with water, which Kelly thanked him for. When he was gone, she raised an eyebrow over the glass rim. “He still got two. You seriously need to let me weed out your matches again.” 

“You’re probably right,” Simon agreed, and opened the menu rather than elaborating. “Am I going to be drinking alone?” 

She snorted, unable to stop it. “What, this early? Absolutely, drown your sorrows without me. I’d like to be able to drive back, thanks.” Kelly flicked open her own menu. “I’ll be the assigned voice of reason and say don’t order alcohol.” When Simon threw a fake-pout her way, like the kicked puppy he pretended to be, she turned a pointed look at him as the waiter approached to take their orders. “Before five in the afternoon.” 

Their roles, interestingly enough, had switched over the years. Before, it had been Kelly to do the stupid thing – like deck the quarterback for a homophobic comment – and it had been Simon to haul her away, swearing up and down it wouldn’t happen again. She suspected the change had come with the Naval Academy, where the sight of people in her own league and above it had slapped some sense in. And Marisol. Marisol and her Southwest-chile-hot temper had done far more than slap sense in. It had almost felt like a second high school, under the Academy’s roof, with Marisol as the hotshot flygirl and her as the backseater shouting for her to slow down. 

Yeah , that change had come with the Academy, all right. Now it was Simon’s turn to chase the stupid things – like men who didn’t care about him. 

“So,” she began as she closed her menu, “how’s Graham?” 

Just like she’d thought it would, Simon’s face lit up. Graham was his four-year-old Siamese cat, who Simon had doted on since the minute he had come home. “He’s doing great ,” her friend gushed, and dug out his phone to find pictures. It had only been a week since she’d last seen Graham, but he had new photos as sure as the next day dawned. “He finally destroyed that leaf toy, y’know, the Animal Crossing one—”

“Simme,” Kelly interrupted. A slow, teasing smile dawned over her lips. “Are you describing the toy I bought for Graham?” 

Luckily for him, Simon was saved from having to reply by their waiter appearing out of nowhere, but the tips of his ears darkened all the same. He didn’t bring it up again when their orders had been taken, but he did slip away his phone. 

Damn. No cat pictures for today. Maybe she could wheedle some out of him later. 

“Don’t you have better friends to bully? Like that guy in Nebraska?” 

She dropped her head into her hands. “Simon. His name is Neil, and you’ve known about him for years. Mari and I have been his wingman for years.” Omaha had rounded out her and Marisol’s duo to a neat little trio, back at Top Gun, and through him she’d met Harvard, Yale, and Halo. The trio-duo, as she’d once referred to the six of them. “I’d bully him more often if he did stupid shit in my city.” 

“It’s your city, now?” Simon challenged, and leveled his straw at her like it was a sword. Like they were nine and not twenty -nine. “Is it? Who’s lived here longer?” 

Kelly grinned right back at him, conjuring that pilot’s cockiness for one blinding smile. “I’ve claimed Boulder in the name of the Navy,” she declared. “It’s my city now. ” It was times like these where she missed Marisol and Neil, to the depths of her heart. The three of them were as close as siblings, and even closer in some regards. Near-death experiences did that to people, most of the time. “Put your straw down, you’re getting water on the tablecloth.” 

They devolved into other foolish things, and she recounted a flight school story of how Omaha had nearly hit a bird and spun her and Floodgate out of control. His callsign had very nearly become Gull, that day, if he hadn’t already been going by Omaha. Floodgate had been the last of their trio to ‘earn’ her callsign, and Kelly’s own had been more of a race against a worse nickname. There was only one way to go, nickname-wise, when someone was blonde, short, and from Idaho — and she had wanted no part in that. Anything was better than what her fellow aviators-to-be had been planning. 

Their food arrived, and that shut down conversation for a bit. Kelly had ordered the eggs benedict, but Simon had yet to be persuaded from his addiction to French toast. She stared on, eyebrow raised, as he poured a truly sickening amount of syrup over each slice. “I can’t believe you. That’s rotting my teeth just from looking at it.” 

“So look away,” Simon retorted, and took his first bite of the sugary hellsight. “You didn’t have to come.” 

Which was fair. She didn’t have to come to an overpriced brunch – not when she’d been planning on getting through all the weeds in her garden boxes. There was a veritable bucket list of chores waiting for her, and she’d need the whole day to check off each one. Past Kelly had decided it was Future Kelly’s problem, and now that Future Kelly was Present Kelly, she was absolutely going to have a problem with it. And all that aside, Simon wasn’t her only friend in Boulder, not when she’d been living there for two years. 

But he also was her best friend – had been for a long time – and that counted for something. 

Kelly snorted. “C’mon, Simme. You’re acting like I would say no.” She cut into the egg and let the runny yolk seep into her toast. If she could have the choice, she’d take this for breakfast every day. The bread might have a little too much butter, but it was sourdough; and the Hollandaise might have more salt than she’d eat regularly, but it was absorbed all the same. “Your dates need to cancel more often, this is nice.” 

Mouth full of French toast, her friend rolled his eyes. “Or,” he taunted, “you could bear to make time for me every now and then.” He would have spread his arms to gesture, had they not been in an upscale brunch restaurant, so he made do with smaller movements. “And I don’t mean ass-crack-of-morning runs, you ungodly fiend.” 

“Hey.” Kelly pointed at him with her fork, shaking with mock offense and poorly disguised laughter. “Ungodly and fiend are superfluous to say next to each other. If you’re going to insult me, do it properly.” 

Simon, fork halfway to his mouth, squinted at her. The motion was comical on its own, but coupled with where they were and what they were doing? She nearly cried in her attempt to stop herself from falling out of her chair. “Jesus,” he muttered, and finally took that bite. “Sometimes I forget why you made one of those instructors want a vacation.” He took his napkin from the table, balled it up, and waggled it threateningly. “Say something like that again and you’re gonna get it.” 

“What, superflu—” To his credit, Simon had very good aim. The napkin hit her square in the face, and Kelly gaped before remembering to pick it up. “You—!” She was halfway to winding up to throw it back at him, then thought twice. With a devilish inner grin, she plastered a prim and proper look over her lips and smoothed his napkin over her lap. “I was raised properly,” she told him, lips pursing at the end of her words. She could not smile now. It would ruin her joke. “You were dragged.” 

A groan tore from Simon’s throat. He gestured for her to give it back, with the universally-recognized grabby hands. “Oh, sure. In Idaho Falls, you were raised properly. Let me know when pigs start flying.” 

“Have you met Navy pilots?” Kelly snarked, but handed back his napkin. “They’ve been flying for about a hundred years.” The Academy had, in about every poor sense of the word, weeded every bit of coal out to find the diamonds. Even then, some of the ‘diamonds’ were a bit too dense. It took Harvard decking Yale before he shut up about it, but from then on, he hadn’t been a problem. 

She took a bite of her egg-soaked toast — yeah , that was it. Heaven on a plate. 

Now that she thought about it, though, maybe Navy pilot training just bred people for appreciating a partner who could beat them up. That might also be a question for Yale.

 With the toast slice gone, Kelly brushed crumbs off her fingers. “Anyway, at least I’ve met the good ones.” She’d, unfortunately, met the bad ones, too. They’d also had the displeasure of meeting her, though, and they hadn’t stuck around. “How do you keep meeting all the bad ones? At this rate, I’m never letting you meet more Navy men.” 

Simon wrinkled his nose. “I’m fine by that. They’re not good for much other than eye candy.” At her stifled laughter, he went on. It only made her wheeze. “And that goes for Logan and Birgham, too. I don’t care how into each other they secretly are, all they’re good for is standing there and looking pretty.” Kelly was slowly running out of air at his description of Yale and Harvard, but somehow, he had more to say. More to make her lose her sanity. “Neil’s too tall, but not enough of a twink. The other two are hot, don’t get me wrong.” At this, he looked up, eyebrow perfectly cocked, and saw Kelly gasping for any sort of oxygen. She was failing miserably. “But – a very important but – they’re too much like frat boys. Which is a red flag – and not one I’m into.” 

It took her a full ten minutes to recover and breathe normally again. 

“That,” Kelly wheezed, “is why I’m never letting you meet more Navy men.” She leaned back in her chair, trying to return to the normal composure a normal twenty-nine-year-old would have. “Christ on a bike, I don’t know whether to laugh more about this or cry that you called Neil ‘not enough of a twink.’ Why would a military guy be a twink, Simme?” 

“I’m just saying!” Simon cackled. It was moments like this that made her glad they were seated off to the side. While she couldn’t exactly deny what he’d said. There was something so incredibly cursed about the whole debacle that made her never want to relive it. “Speaking of your Navy friends, though, is the road trip coming to Boulder this year?” 

Even the mention of her annual-when-possible road trip made her smile. It had been a tradition she’d started with Floodgate, when she was still living in Idaho – the two would drive to a middle point between Idaho Falls and Socorro, then find their way somewhere else. They’d covered nearly all of the Southwest and Rockies that way, and it had only gotten bigger when Omaha joined their group. (Clan?) It’d grown again, with Halo, Yale, and Harvard, and it’d been the cause of her first visit to Disneyland. Halo having the Mouse in her backyard – seriously, what was with Anaheim – had certainly helped with that. And it’d made for a seriously memorable, if expensive, first road trip with the new trio. 

She didn’t understand the hype behind Disneyland pickles. She wouldn’t tell Halo that for fear of being decapitated. 

To answer the question, Kelly shrugged. Her eggs were nearly gone. “We’ll figure it out. It’s getting to be about that time, too, but the other three are supposed to ship out soon. Next time most of us are stateside, we’ll figure something out.” If they were going to come to Boulder, she’d rather it be in winter, even if that meant the tourist crowds. It would be well worth watching Floodgate fight for every foot upright on a snowboard again. Halo had Disneyland in her backyard, and she had a ski mountain. “But you’ve got a point, it’s been a good while since they were here.” 

“Which is what I’m saying,” Simon huffed, and finished off his French toast. “Bribe ‘em if you have to, I wanna see your friends again.” He wanted to sleep with her friends again. The waiter placed the check on their table and vanished, which reminded Kelly of the stealth pilots she’d met over the years. All too quiet for their own damn good, and all shit-eating-grin smug about it without fail. “And before you tell me to get a life, I’m allowed to be invested in yours.” 

She held up her hands in surrender, card already in hand. “Fair enough.” When she moved to take the check, though, Simon snatched it from under her fingers. “Oi. Let me pay. Hand it over.” Simon, she knew, would insist on paying the whole tab – when her pride demanded she pay for at least her half. “This place is overpriced, Simme, at least let me take up half–” 

As though he were a child playing keep-away, Simon pressed the little folder to his chest. “Absolutely not. I invited you, I’m paying. You pay for more than enough of our outings. Keep that plastic over on your side of the fence.” 

“I make more than enough to cover our outings,” Kelly protested, and reached for the check. Again and infuriatingly, Simon kept it out of her reach. “You can even pay me back if you want. Simon Enrique Eriksson, hand it over.” 

After a nearly-comical amount of fishing in his pocket, Simon produced his own card, and handed it to the stealth waiter. His grin was wider than the Cheshire Cat’s, which was something she had forgotten was possible about him, though it suited him in a strange way. “No, I don’t think I will.” 

Christ on a cracker.  

“You’re incorrigible,” Kelly harrumphed, and reluctantly slid her card away. “Least you could let me do is make up for your shitty canceled date.” Simon raised an eyebrow, and she nearly smacked herself in the face, holding up her hand to stop him. “And if you pull the ‘you defend our country’ argument, I’ll have you know that argument is as shitty as it was when you first brought it up.” It wasn’t really even an argument, not really. It had started as a joke, to fend off the uptight ROTC kids from UCB – she defends our country, she doesn’t need some dumbass who can’t even drink harassing her for a squat rack – and as a mockery of the tantrum-worthy complaints – I defended our country and I can’t even get a free fucking refill? – from some of the more self-righteous veterans. “It won’t work on me. I’m the butt of the joke!” 

She was, however, eerily sure that the waiter had spotted her patches and taken some percentage off. Which was more than fine on her end, military discounts existed in the oddest of places and she lived to exploit them. It was her secret life mission to exploit them all. 

Simon, cackling, didn’t seem to care. “Nuh-uh,” he grinned, like they were both five. “I invited you, therefore I get to pay. Besides, it’s not as overpriced as you think. We got two things and drinks, Kels, chill.” 

That didn’t stop her from fishing stray bills out of her wallet for the tip, despite Simon’s squawks of mock outrage. “If I have to put up with you,” she threatened, pointing her wallet at him like a knife, “so does the waitstaff. They deserve compensation for dealing with your clown ass.” 

“Include yourself in that clown ass description,” Simon retorted, and stood to collect his jacket. When Kelly did the same, he waved to their waiter – who, surprisingly, didn’t appear out of thin air this time. She saw him coming this time, which was almost as much of a surprise as if he’d simply materialized again. When he collected their check and tip, Simon grinned, thanked him, and headed for the exit, Kelly at his side. When they left the restaurant, he shot a warning look at her. “Not a word.” 

Her lips twitched into a smile anyway. “Didn’t say nothing.” 

“Oh, shut up,” Simon groaned. “You’re giving me that look, you don’t need to say anything.” 

She slung her jacket over her shoulders, but didn’t slip her arms through the sleeves. “What look?” Kelly inquired, a perfect mask of innocence over her face. Well, she conjured as much innocence as she could. It was only mostly believable. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Her best friend shook his head, eyes rolling to the sky. “That look.” 

She knew, of course, exactly what he was talking about. Her best and most fiendish grin hooked her mouth, and Kelly crowed her laughter to the clouds above. “You wouldn’t be telling me to shove it if it wasn’t true!” 

Simon’s ears began reddening, and she knew she had him then. “I’m telling you to shove it because you’re insufferable.” They paused at his car, and that was where he finally hung his head in defeat. “He was cute, though.” 

Kelly cackled. “Guess we’ll have to go back so you can get his number. Or you can go alone, he might think you’re straight if we show up again.” 

He shuddered, and hit the button to unlock his car. “You have a point. God forbid, someone thinks I’m straight. The world might end.”

 It was a joke, but Kelly thought the world might actually end if anyone ever accused this man of being a heterosexual. “God forbid, indeed,” she agreed. The cackling still had yet to leave her system. “Not even like we can pose as siblings, either, ‘cause if you came back here for any other reason, I’d want to tag along. It’s good food.” Maybe she’d find a reason to come back on her own. It could be a road trip stop. Now that was an idea. It just might get the rest of them in Colorado. Unfortunately, though, she still had a long list of chores, and the day was already half over. She couldn’t stay and chat, gossip or no. “I gotta go, I’ve got laundry and weeding to do. We gotta do this again, though, I’m sorry how I keep forgetting.” 

Simon’s expression softened, and before she fully knew it, he had pulled her into a hug. Grateful and happy, she returned it. “We do,” he agreed, and she could hear his smile. “Text me if you get an idea.” With that, he let her go, and climbed into the driver’s seat. “If you don’t, I’ll spam you with minion memes.” 

She held up both hands in surrender, grinning. This was why she’d kept contact with Simon – out of all her friends from high school – because even ten years later, it felt like no time had passed at all. They were still exactly the same as they’d always been. “I’m a Navy pilot, I fear nothing except minion memes.” Kelly laughed, and slipped her arms through her jacket sleeves. “I will. See you, Simme.” 

“See you, Kels!” With a final wave, he rolled his window up, backed out of the space, leaving her alone in the parking lot. 

With a sigh that left her lungs feeling lighter than before, Kelly made her way to her jeep, hands in her pockets. Today was shaping up to be a good day. And, if she’d have any luck, it’d be a productive one, too. 

—

The first thing Kelly did when she got home was change, because she was not getting pesticides on brunch-worthy clothes. Afterward, armed with clippers and clothes she didn’t mind getting dirty, she set to work attacking her garden boxes. 

It was spring, but there was still enough cold left around for plants to die out. Even in May. Her cucumbers were doing fine, but her garlic had started to have problems. 

Thankfully, it was just something to do with her hands. Kelly popped in her earbuds, set the playlist to her seasonal mix, and got to work. There, numb to the world save for the dirt under her hands, the hours slid by. 

It was around four in the afternoon when she finally got up, stretched until her joints popped, and headed inside to wash up and start laundry. In a fresh change of clothes (her third that day), she finally set the washing machine’s first cycle and breathed a sigh of relief. Down time. Kelly was halfway to her bedroom, looking to take a nap, when her stomach rumbled. 

…Maybe foodfirst. 

One ham-and-cheese sandwich later, she was back on her way for a nap when the thought hit her that she should check the mail. Kelly stopped in her tracks, contemplating the benefits of checking now or later. The thought check the mail became just as persistent as an earworm. 

Fuck . 

She could lie down and try napping all she wanted until the laundry timer went off, but until she checked the mail, she wasn’t going to find any rest. 

After one last tantalizing look toward her bedroom, Kelly trudged to the entryway to pull on her boots. She knew the thought wouldn’t leave her alone. It would chant in the back of her mind like a child complaining are we there yet? on a road trip. Incessantly. It had always been this way. 

The things she did for her own sanity. 

Boots on, she headed to the mailbox. There was a bit of a cool breeze, and it was almost enough to make her long for her jacket, but she quickened her steps instead. The sooner she got the mail, the sooner she could get back inside and nap. Maybe she’d even make it a full half hour before the time would inevitably remind her of when she needed to be prepping for dinner. 

Ooh , that reminded her… she had thawing ground beef and fresh noodles in the fridge from her last grocery run. Making a Bolognese sounded very good. Yes, that would be her dinner plan. 

Kelly reached the mailbox, and finally opened it to peer inside. She expected nothing, maybe junk at the most. And, to her credit, she was partially right. There was junk mail. But there was also an envelope that she would have known blind. 

The Navy . 

She wasn’t due for her next deployment for another three weeks, though, so why…?  

Moving on autopilot, she walked back to her door, eyes only on the envelope. Once she was inside, the door shut behind her, Kelly fished her knife out of her back pocket and sliced the top clean open. Her hands didn’t shake. She was more curious than apprehensive, and curiosity didn’t make for shaky hands. She was a WSO, goddammit. 

She skimmed past the perfunctory Ms. Kelly Savannah, flew by the compulsory this letter finds you in good health … until her eyes zeroed in on the real reason the government had wasted its best ivory cardstock on an envelope. And, for a moment, she didn’t believe it. Or want to, for that matter. 

You have been called back to Top Gun. 

On the kitchen table, her phone pinged. It wasn’t a loud noise, but just enough to snap her out of unblinkingly staring at those impossible seven words with no sense of time or feeling or place or reality–

Phone. Yes.  

With the letter still lying on the countertop, she scooped up her phone to check what had pinged her. Her curiosity fell flat as soon as she realized the topmost notification had come from YouTube , of all places, but it reared back up and socked her in the face with a bag of urchins as soon as she read the notification just under it. 

Marisol had texted her. Two hours ago. 

2:14 P.M, 1 new message

Marisol WaTeRgIrL Carter: Did you get the letter?

2:29 P.M, 1 new message 

Marisol WaTeRgIrL Carter: Call me if you did

Kelly hit call immediately. Her hands were close to shaking. This was anticipation, no longer curiosity. Mari had gotten the message, too. Something was up. Something was seriously up, and the worst of it was how she had no clue how big it was. 

She, Mari, and Neil had graduated top of their class – shit , if she and Mari had gotten the letter, had Neil gotten it too? Just how many people were being called back? 

The dial tone rang once. 

What would even require the Navy to call her back to Top Gun? Hell, what would require them to call both her and Mari? Back to Top Gun meant flying out to Miramar – it meant something unexpected. Mission briefings didn’t take place at a fighter weapons school, no matter how much its instructors had trained her to push the envelope. Her best guess was that they were being called back for a training exercise. 

But they had recruits there already. What would they need her for? Not every pilot flew with a backseater. Not any more, at least. Couple that with how drones were being used more and more frequently for missions? 

Her time in the back of a jet was trickling out at the pace of sand in the top half of an hourglass. Slowly but surely, it would be all gone. 

The dial tone rang twice. 

Pick up, Kelly prayed. Come on, Floods, I know you’re not camping this weekend. Pick up. You said for me to call you, that’s what I’m doing. Pick up.  

More than she wanted to hear her best friend’s voice, she wanted to know just what the hell was going on. Mari texted like her callsign – either a slow trickle or like someone had opened up the floodgates. (It had nothing to do with how she had been slapped with the nickname, but was ironic all the same.) Slow-trickle-texts meant something was up. Because something was suspicious. Or because something was wrong . 

Marisol picked up. 

“Vee, you got it?” She sounded like she’d just been running. Maybe she was out for one now. “The letter about being called back?”  

Kelly nodded, and of course only then remembered she couldn’t see her friend. Her friend couldn’t see her, either. “Yeah,” she replied, and padded back to her countertop. “I was weeding my garden boxes for four hours, Floods, that’s why I didn’t see your text. Just checked the mail now – do you have any idea what’s going on?” 

There was a noise from the other end like she’d just whacked something with a stick. There couldn’t be that much undergrowth in New Mexico. “Absolutely no clue,” Mari replied. “I didn’t check with Omaha. I’unno if it’s just us, or if there’s more people coming. Either way, ‘s classified.”  

That made her snort. “Yeah, that’s true. If we pull up asking for a letter he doesn’t have, that’d be awkward. Like that’s rough, buddy, sorry you didn’t get this top-secret letter or something.” She ran a hand through her hair, thinking. She’d have to get Simon to house-sit for her again. According to the letter, she’d be gone for a month. Which, in the grand scheme of things, wasn’t that long at all. Just surprisingly unexpected. “Think we could align flights or something? The Uber from the airport would be cheaper if it’s the two of us.” 

There were a lot more reasons she wanted to see Mari sooner than arriving at Miramar than just an Uber payment. She didn’t have to say them aloud. Simon was her old-home-in-a-new-home. Marisol was her home-away-from-home. Both extremely vital to her existence. 

“I don’t see why not,” Mari mused. “I could meet you in Phoenix for a layover. God knows Albuquerque doesn’t fly everywhere.”  

Kelly grinned. Just like that, in a flash of their decision, her nerves eased. Her hands weren’t liable to shaking any more. Not when the sliding scale of anticipation had drifted away from fear to excitement. 

Going back to Top Gun meant a lot of things. It meant something important, but it also meant something different. Something new, and hopefully cutting-edge. And she’d been dying to get back into the sky, all the same. Her house chores would have to wait. 

“Phoenix it is. Let me get my laptop.” 

Maybe Simon could do her housework. It just might save him from another bad Tinder date or three. 

[kashimos-hajime]

gold dripping down your wrist (2/8) | r.b.

summary: His breath flutters against your skin, and you wonder if he feels your heart tripping over in your chest. Or, despite every instinct telling him to run, Reiner gives in.

WARNINGS: ptsd nightmares, swearing, slight angst, otherwise,,, hmmm relatively unscathing besides a whole lot of yearning. dont worry next chapters will be sad as hell! pairing: reiner braun x fem!reader word count: 5.4k

a/n: hehehe biting my lip like a chad for isabel ( @luciilferss​ )

masterlist

crossposted on ao3 x

Shooting up in a silent scream, your hand flies to your neck as the last remnants of your nightmare dissipate. Breath coming in sharp, rapid inhales, you glance around the barracks and find no one else awake. Soft snores fill the room, and you shake your head to yourself, rubbing at your eyes.

No good to fall back asleep, now. 

Your entire body covered in cold sweat, you pluck at the front of your shirt, fanning yourself out as you swing your legs off the bed. A chill travels up your pants and through the holes of your shirt as you glance out the windows. Lunar light is streaming through but the moon itself is already fading. You get up, meandering over to the windows to look out. Some of the Scouts are on guard duty, as always, but other than that—tranquility.

So weird to think they have that when outside the walls, it’s a lawless land. 

Leaning forward, you move until your nose nearly touches the glass, and someone else in the room shifts with a grunt. You look over your shoulder, trying to decipher the shadows when a rough voice calls out right next to you. 

“Creampie?”

Slapping a hand over your mouth so you don’t scream, you look down. Reiner.

“What are you doing up?”

“Did I wake you?” you question warily, and he leans into the moonlight, squinting at you as he rubs at his face. Shaking his head briefly, he studies you with a narrowed glare and you almost want to shift back into the shadows at the perpetually annoyed expression on his face but you’ve learned that he just looks like that. “You can go back to sleep.”

“Are you cold? You look like you’re shivering.”

“No, I’m okay.” Liar. You think even your bones are chattering. 

He sits up, tossing his blanket off. “I can get you another blanket from the supply closet,” he mutters wearily. Standing, he pushes himself up and nearly into your personal space but he stops right in front of you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “C’mon. Back to bed.” He flashes a quick smile before brushing past you and words bubble inside your throat as you turn to watch him sink back into the darkness.

You whisper after him: “I had a nightmare about Marco.”

It is all it takes to make Reiner freeze. He turns around immediately, and you see his eyes before anything else. Wide with guilt, with grief. You lower your own head in shame.

“I’m sorry. I know I should try to move on, but he died all alone. It’s all I can think about. He must’ve been so scared” Keeping your tone as quiet as you can, you turn your face back to the night as he returns to your side. You stare at the stars and point absently at the one twinkling down at them both. “This older kid at the farm used to tell me all that every new star is another soul joining the heavens. Do you think…” Your arm falters and a weak sigh pushes past your lips as Reiner catches your falling hand in his own. You feel the calluses on his palms against your fingers as you swallow tightly. “Maybe that one is Marco?”

Your fingers interlace with Reiner’s as he wraps an arm around your waist, and you let him pull you towards him as he presses a rough kiss against your brow. The motion makes your entire being freeze in motion as he sighs, lowering his head. His breath flutters against your skin, and you wonder if he feels your heart tripping over in your chest. The tip of his nose brushes along your forehead, before he lets go of your hand, and you feel like ice digs into the fingers when his heat leaves. His arm around your waist falls and your head ducks.

The moment’s passed.

“That’s a good way to see it.” Stepping away, you watch his figure slouch, the way his shoulders cave in, and you can’t help the next words that come out. 

“I miss him. All the time. Him. And Thomas. Mina. Like they’re watching me on my shoulders, weighing me down. I can’t see them,” you continue, “but I feel them. All the time. I’m doing everything wrong and I’m letting them down.”

“Hey, don’t think like that,” he commands sternly, eyes flashing up to meet yours. It’s chilling, how much you’re inclined to believe him, but you don’t even nod as he grasps your shoulder. “You did what you could, alright? You just keep going, one foot in front of the other. You were one of the best in our class.” 

“I wasn’t even top ten,” you snort.

“Grades doesn’t make a soldier. Annie should’ve told you that it was all bullshit,” he says and you wince to yourself, lips pressing together You know he’s partially right, but you don’t have the strength to argue the rest. Guiding you back to bed, Reiner gently pushes you back down onto the cot and you fall back, lacing your fingers over your stomach. 

Craning your head up at Reiner, you look at him looming over you, silhouette outlined in silver. He stares down at you, his expression shrouded, and you wonder what he’s thinking in that mind of his.

Your hand lifts from your stomach, and taps on the open space beside you. A soft thump-thump, like your pulse, like an invitation. 

He turns away to glance back at the bed, and the moonlight hits his pale face blindingly. Squinting, you try to discern what emotion plays at his face as a sinking sensation begins to drag at your insides.

He’s going to walk away, a voice inside crows. Who do you think you are? Seducing the guy you have a crush on? As if.

You want to take it back. Excuse it as a moment of weakness. A brief, Can we forget I just did that? They could just move on with their lives knowing some lines are better left uncrossed.

But then, there is a weak: “This one time, alright?” 

Every word turns to dust in your mouth.

He turns back to you before you can respond and crawls into the space next to your own. Your heart lurches in your chest as he settles beside you with a silent groan.

He lifts an arm and you scoot closer, your head resting on his shoulder. Ear pressing into his chest, the soft thunder of his heart fills your entire body as he pulls you tight. Glancing up at him, you watch as his eyes slide shut tightly.

Your own face crumples and you bury it in his chest. “She’d say,” you continue on quietly, “that the the brightest stars were the fiercest warriors.” He stiffens as you twist the fabric of his shirt in a tight fist and your stomach twists as you try to find the words. The shadows are closing in on you, and you can only anchor yourself to the arm swathed around you as you whisper his name. “I was pretty much all alone after she left to find work a few years back. It’s part of why I joined the corps, but I heard she’s back there, now, and—”

“Don’t. Don’t tell me.”

What? 

Head jerking up to look at him, you meet a strong jaw clenching in a sharp scowl. His hand on your arm traces smooth circles and a drowsiness begins to flood your senses as he lets out a soft groan, rolling onto his side and pulling you flush against his chest. A leg slipping between his, you tilt into his chest as his arm wraps around your waist and it’s so tight you can barely breathe. Your arms crushed between their chests, your fingers twist the collar of his shirt and your nose brushes his chin when you shift against him.

“It just makes all this harder,” he explains hoarsely. 

A heat blooms in the small distance between their bodies as you nod. You understand. 

The wooden bedframe creaks beneath their weight as the hand on your back migrates to your shoulder blade and he buries his face in the plane of your shoulder. The searing skin of his temple against your jaw and your stomach in knots, you nuzzle yourself closer.

“I really am sorry for waking you,” you whisper, freeing your arms so you can loop them around his neck, thread your fingers in his hair but he doesn’t acknowledge your words. Their every breath is shared, and you swear their hearts are touching through the thin walls of their skin and sinew.

A gentle wave crashes over you when he hooks his fingers onto your shoulder, so unbearably close that you wish he’d either come closer or push himself away. You want to sink into his chest, hold onto him for the rest of the night as your eyes begin to flutter shut. His arms tightening around you, you think for a moment, you can finally relax. He’s just so warm.

“I know since Annie joined the MPs, there’s a sort of emptiness in you. You miss her. I get that.” Reiner lifts his head, arms withdrawing a bit. “I’m okay with you using me to fill whatever space she used to, but I can’t—” You hear a soft inhale above and you look up. You wonder if he can feel your racing heart under his palm. He’s already looking at you, and when your eyebrows rise in silent question, he shakes his head and looks away, lips curling into a scowl you barely see in the darkness. “I can’t.”

You can’t what, Reiner? Why won’t you look at me?

Then, he shivers, eyes shutting tight as he ducks his head again, and his cheek presses against your temple. Your eyes widen when his arms seem to pull you infinitely closer. “Shit.” More softly to himself: “Never mind. I’ve gotta go back to my bunk.” His breath is warm against your skin. A shudder shoots through you. “I can’t sleep in your bed.” A squeeze of your waist. Your leg slides against his thighs and he only hugs you tighter. “This isn’t right. I shouldn’t—”

“I’ll let go in a minute,” you tell him softly. 

Hs hand flattens along the top of your spine, spreading as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t catch you. Cradling your head, his hand burns your skin.

When you wake up, it is alone to a mattress underneath your back, but Reiner waits until everyone leaves the room before he kisses your cheek good morning. It’s a one-time occurence, you know, but still, it’s nice.

.

Walking towards the edge of the internment zone, Reiner spots the newspaper cart milling with people, no doubt buying the new papers relaying the Marleyan victory in Fort Slava. The crowd is cheering to one another and his hands roll into fists as the line shifts forward. Meandering nearer, he can’t help but think of Paradis.

It was nothing like the hell they’d described. There were just tall walls, and people. Sure, they were behind a couple of years, technology wise, but they were relatively the same.

One thing that’s different though, was that there had never been the need for papers within the Walls. And if there was news to relay, you would come with the fresh news from Section Commander Miche, or Captain Levi. He’d always read your face as you gave the news—if your eyes still had a spark in them, that meant it had to have a hint of good news.

And you had been so relieved once you reached Utgard Castle you had hugged him so tight that he couldn’t breathe when he caught those eyes glimmering in the dawn. He remembers holding you tight against him with his ‘uninjured’ arm and the way you had just…

You had gone to him first. Not Bertholdt, not Connie.

Him.

And he had gone to you first, when he had seen you swaying in your seat atop a horse who hung his head low. He couldn’t even remember anything else, except seeing you and breaking away from his group, galloping towards you and Bertholdt. You were bloody, a corpse sitting up—his entire body had felt his heart drop into the depths of his stomach, the seizing in his gut. Even after he had thrown your confession into the dirt, stepped on it, told you it couldn’t be—he had betrayed that all in an instant seeing you with Death’s hand on your shoulder.

Shit.

He used to be so much stronger. How else could he still let you go for a mission that’s brought him nothing but ghosts?

“Excuse me.” The words pull out of his mouth as soon as he feels someone collide with his arm. Something falls and his hand shoots out to catch it before it can crash to the ground, his other hand grasping onto their bicep. Paper crunches and he straightens up, immediately finding who he bumped into. Purple hat shrouding a ducked head, she doesn’t look at him, frozen in space. You, he thinks dazedly. You again. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” he continues quietly. “Are you alright?”

A short nod, and then she breaks off, clamping a hand over a plum sleeve where a white armband rests, taking off past him, back deeper into the interment zone. Reiner glances down at his fist, at the paper still clutched tight in his own fist, and his head shoots back up to search for the figure.

Gone. Shit. How did they even disappear so quickly? The road behind him stretches for a distance that would take more than two damn seconds to cross.

Fitting a palm to his brow, Reiner’s expression tightens as he looks down at the paper and he sighs, whipping it open to the sight of their so-called victory.

He’s seeing things. He’s… he’s just tired, and tormented. That’s all. Even the letters of the paper look a bit strange to his straining eyes, and he sighs, lifting his head again to look at the empty road behind him.

.

“This is really crunchy,” you mumble. Krista smiles, pleased. Swinging the axe you’d been using to chop wood into the stump, you swallow and set a hand on her blonde head, rubbing it fondly before taking another bite. “Where’d you get this? We haven’t gone to town this week.”

“Bertholdt, Connie, Sasha and Armin went to go pick some fruits surrounding headquarters while Eren trains. I thought I’d bring some back for you gys.”

“That’s nice.” You grin, taking another bite and letting out a noise of surprise when juice dribbles down your wrist. Good thing your sleeves are rolled up. “You should take one to Captain Levi. I think apples are his favourite.”

“How do you know that?”

“Who doesn’t like apples?” 

Krista shrugs as another shape lumbers over to you.

“What��s going on over here?”

“Reiner, catch.” You grab an apple from Krista’s basket and fling it at the guy who catches it easily with a grin. Taking a bite, his eyebrows rise and you laugh as a delighted expression spreads over his face. “Good, right?”

He nods. His whole body is coated in a fine layer of sweat, the evidence of his labour staining the front of his shirt as he stops next to you. Your heart stutters at the heat radiating off his skin as he looks at Krista. His shoulders rise and fall with his breath, and you swallow to yourself, taking another bite of your apple so you have an excuse to keep your mouth shut.

“You should bring some to Eren and the others,” he suggests. “They’ve been working hard.”

“I will.” Smiling charmingly, the blonde girl adds that there’ll be some left in the mess hall later and waves, departing. You watch her go with another crunch of your apple and you let out a small sound when golden juice dribbles down your wrist. Without thinking, you lift your arm to your mouth, sucking the trail off before it can continue down to your elbow. Something burns into your cheek, and you turn your head.

Catching Reiner staring at you, a mortified feeling strikes through you and you let out a choked sound, dropping your hand. Averting your eyes, you stammer, “Sorry. Habit. Not used to people watching me eat. Mostly ate during work hours back home, so…”

His lips pull into a flustered smile. “N-No. That’s fine. You worked on a farm, right?”

“Yeah. With other orphan kids.” It was so lonely. You look up at him bashfully and he rubs the back of his neck with a hand as he bites into his apple. Unable to help the pleased tone seeping into your voice, you say, “You remembered.”

“Of course I did. You mentioned it,” he replies, waving it away, looking away. His face is red, and you squint against the sun. “You said there was an older kid there. Talked about the stars.”

“Yeah. Yeah, she was like family. Until I joined the corps and met you, Bertholdt, and Annie, that is. You guys just… I dunno.” You rub your elbow, smiling at him. “Times like these make me miss Annie. She’s a better friend than everyone gives her credit for, y’know? We always said when the time came we would work together in the MPs.”

“Uh-huh.” Reiner looks away, eyebrows furrowed together. “It’s getting hot.”

“Yeah.” Your brow crinkles but you let his diversion slide. “We should take a break.” You gesture to the shade nearby and he takes the lead, heading over to collapse against a tree. You rotate the apple between your fingers, you take another bite, nose wrinkling as a wind sweeps against your face.

They continue to eat in silence, not much to be sad. Your heart begins to slow, even as Reiner shifts closer, one of his knees bent, the other crooked flat on the cool grass. Smiling to yourself, you just watch the sun touch everything you can see, and in times like this, of absolute nothingness, you can finally remember how beautiful the world is. 

The sky is blue enough to drown in, the clouds are infinitely fluffy, and the grass gleams white underneath the heat. Even if you’re sweating your skin off, the wind is cold like a kiss, and you feel a delighted shiver course through you.

“It’s so beautiful,” you sigh. “The world. I wish we could see more of it, but what we have here… I think I take it for granted. How truly perfect it all is.”

“Yeah.” His voice rasps against your ear and you inhale the summer wind deeply once again, feeling it fill up your entire chest. “I think I do, too.”

Looking at Reiner, your lips part in a response before rough fingers cradle your chin and tug you forward. Apple core falling to the ground, your arms crumple against a strong body and you barely resist holding him with your sticky hands as a mouth presses against yours. Body melting against his own, your stomach flutters and you let out a soft moan as his hand travelled along your chin to cup your face, thumb stroking your cheek. His other hand rests on your knee and your eyes slide close as a tongue traces the seam of your lips, dips in tentatively. Arm wrapping around his neck, you pull him in deeper by the crook of your elbow and sigh into his mouth.

The soft warmth floods your entire body, cools you down somehow, and you swear you can’t feel the ground beneath your legs. Hours seem to pass—the gust caresses your sweaty skin, the leaves seem to chime. 

It’s idyllic. 

It’s perfect.

It’s only a few beats more before he draws back sweetly, hand falling away from your face and he searches your expression.

“You, uh, missed a spot,” he whispers hoarsely, clearing his throat and drawing back. Smiling dopily to yourself, you wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand but not even that can erase the tingling sensation spreading through your face. Looking into your lap, you chew on your bottom lip, trying to prevent the ginormous smile from spreading while he leans back against the tree, looking out into the distance.

“Hey!” Heads jerking up, the two Scouts spot Ymir glaring at them by the entrance to the headquarters. “Didn’t know some of us were having a day off!”

Mikasa carries a near-passed out Eren into the building while Section Commander Hange and Section Commander Miche wave them, gesturing for them to come back in. You sit up straighter and Reiner lets out a displeased grunt as you tear up some grass by your leg.

“Get that wood and get back in here,” Miche calls. “That’s more than enough for the week.” You find yourself nodding as Reiner pushes himself to his feet and you look up as he walks back into the sun. Their superiors head in, but Ymir lingers, watching them, and you stare back until she seems to let go of her crossed arms, shake her head, and turn back inside.

You blink. Scrambling after Reiner, you catch up with him and wait to see if he’ll see anything. When he only steps towards your pile of firewood and slings the frame to hold bundles of firewood in onto his back, your hand shoots out before you can stop yourself.

He stiffens at your touch.

“Shouldn’t we talk about what just happened?” you ask quietly, a swirling sensation swimming in your chest. Confusion tinted everything as Reiner pauses, glancing at you out of the corner of your eye. “We… kissed just now.”

He ducks his head, lips curling back in a grimace. “Yeah. We did.”

Pangs hitting your chest, you take a step away from him as he bends down to collect the firewood. The sun’s already beating down on the back of your neck as you glance at the pile of wood. “Do you not like me?” 

“What?” He freezes mid-way through grabbing another bundle and you busy yourself with slinging your own carrier onto your back. Your body is burning, and it’s not because of the sun.

“I like you, Reiner, but… if you don’t like me, then I’m okay with pretending that never happened.”

“Of course I like you. You’re a great friend and soldier and—”

You shoot him a furtive look before putting it bluntly: “I like you in the way that I want you to kiss me like that all the time.”

The silence that follows will haunt you for the rest of your life. Your heart pounds in your skull, echoing like the sound of death drums before his shoulders slouch forward and he sighs heavily. You stand upright, head tilting and he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you towards him.

This time, it’s almost devouring the way he kisses you—messy, and warm, and his thumb brushes the underside of his jaw as you bend into his chest, your hands fisted, twisting his shirt at his waist tightly and you barely hear the words he murmurs into your mouth over the pounding of your heart.

“You’re so pretty—“

Panting, he kisses you again and again as you crumple in his arms and you can’t help the stupid smile on your face as you kiss him back, quick punches that last an eternity until they rip themselves off each other. More, Reiner stumbles back, and you tear yourself off of him, just so they remember how to breathe.

Your lungs scrambling for air, your fingers press against your mouth as your gaze falls to the firewood, and Reiner’s heavy breathing can be heard just a few feet away as he falls to his hands and knees. Watching him, your heart cracks into pieces, and there’s a sinking sensation in your stomach. 

Reality slams into you like a fucking horse.

“We shouldn’t,” he whispers hoarsely, fingers digging into the dirt. Your eyes wrench to him and he looks up at you harrowingly. “We’re soldiers. We shouldn’t. We could die tomorrow, next week on that expedition even, and this would be for nothing.”

Falling to your knees, you glance down at the dirt. “I like you.”

“You shouldn’t.” 

You clench your jaw. Your gut cramps as you stare blankly at the grass. “So… what now?” you ask, chest lurching. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“I know. I just…” A harsh swallow. Your breath burns in your chest. A strange pain stitches into your ribs. “We should stay friends.” Everything inside you drains, and you nod, eyes not rising. Your lips still tingle with the sensation of his mouth against your own, and you swallow the hard knot in your throat, but it only lands like a boulder in your stomach. “It’ll hurt less.”

I don’t think it will, you want to argue. I’ll still want you just as much as I do now.

But you don’t say any of that aloud. 

Instead, you try to make it sound joking as you murmur, “You’re the worst.” You flash him a quick smile that you hope dulls the edge of your words, but he merely looks at you numbly.

For a moment, Reiner’s hard frown slips into something more fragile, and he turns away with a hard swallow, whispering out a soft, “I know,” as he gets to his feet and gathers the rest of the firewood. Once his load is on his back, he half-turns to you and he looks at your hands rather than your face. “I’ll see you at the meeting.”

You wait until you can’t hear his soft footsteps cushioned by the grass until you pull yourself together. Lifting your face to the sun, wind chases away the heat clouding your cheeks, and soothes the swollen skin around your eyes.

Grabbing the wood, you rub at your face with the back of your hand and when you get back inside, Connie doesn’t seem to notice anything wrong.

.

Reiner pays the vendor and looks at his cousin, smiling uneasily as she bites into the sandwich. He wouldn’t have much more for the day if they kept going at the pace they’re going, and although he doesn’t mind (not that he could say no) a part of him just wishes he could go home. But Mom had insisted so Gabi could have some supervision and that he needed to get out, she wasn’t getting any younger and he’s so glum! 

“You need to find a nice girl, Reiner.”

He doesn’t know what about his appearance when his mom walked into his bedroom screamed romance, but apparently it was what she read between a soaked shirt and wide eyes and pale skin. 

He’d woken up in a cold sweat, as he does most days, but this time it’d been haunting.

Because it wasn’t flashes of blood, screams, the glint of metal underneath the grey sun. There was no yellow lightning, no deafening crashes.

It was almost like it wasn’t a dream. Trost had been so real, alive around them as you paid for the honeycomb and as you snuck a bite while you thought he wasn’t looking, he remembered…

The way his heart fluttered, the way he couldn’t stop looking you. There was not a moment he remembers your hand was far from his, when their elbows did not brush, when they left each other for a moment. When did he ever stop thinking about your hands, your laugh, the way you could send him into a flurry thinking what every other word you said meant?

“Reiner? You coming?”

Blinking, he looks over his shoulder to see the others already moving on. Pieck lingers near the back of the group, tilting her head at him and he clears his throat, pocketing his wallet and walking towards her.

He never meant for this. You were never meant to be more important than him than breathing. How does he carve away the prints you’ve left on his lips and eyes? Does he even want to? It’s hard to decide. 

Sometimes, he wants to scratch you out of his brain just so you can stop laughing at him. Other times, he wishes he could dig inside his skull and put the memories together in a collage the shape of you just so he has someone to talk to.

“This is so good!” Gabi cries out as Porco sets a hand on her head and Reiner suppresses the smallest smile teasing at his mouth, but it feels tired, and he lets the urge melt away easily. Walking after them slowly, he watches the festival around them, so loud with clowns and buskers and people just talking to one another that it makes his head pound.

His legs feel like they’re about to give up, and his head is heavy as he trails after them. 

“Eat slower,” Pieck censures as they migrate through a thicker crowd, “or you’ll get a stomach ache.”

“They might get a stomach ache either way,” Galliard teases. “Do you see how the slobs are eating?” Walking against the tide, Reiner makes sure he doesn’t knock anyone over going too fast in the opposite direction. The energy would be electric if he didn’t feel so bone-tired. Sun warming his face, Reiner lifts his chin to the sky just as the sound of someone’s voice teases his ear range and his head snaps to the sound, eyes widening.

Stopping in his tracks, he searches for the source and his eyes fixate on the same woman in the purple coat. His mouth opens on its own accord and his eyebrows furrow together as she pays the vendor. He tracks her figure with a quick sweep before turning away to make sure he isn’t trailing too far behind the others.

When he glances back, she’s gone.

Fucking ghost.

He shivers, catching up with the group.

“You’ve got something on your mind,” Pieck observes as he empties out his wallet for the last food stall of the afternoon. They’d just finished their slices of something the man had called pizza, and Gabi had insisted on dessert to finish the day. Explains why he’s standing in front of a portly woman who insists on the kids picking which tart they want.

“It’s fine, Pieck,” he assures, closing his wallet and slipping it back into his pocket, significantly lighter than this morning as Falco grabs a pastry glazed with honey and Reiner’s heart seizes in his chest at the golden sugar glistening in the warm sunlight. “They’re growing kids.”

“I don’t think it’s your wallet that’s the problem,” she says. Galliard grabs a tart with flecks of rose petals within the filling and glances over at the two and Reiner arches an eyebrow at the strangled expression on the guy’s face.

Weird, he muses to himself when Porco grabs another tart and begins to walk over to them.

“You seem a bit lost. Did something happen earlier?” Pieck probes. Reiner sighs, crossing his arms, watching the Candidates switch tarts so they can try all the flavours. It’s so effortlessly… innocent, in a sense, in that gesture. Shit, when’s the last time he ever felt like that?

Gold dripping down your wrist… “I can see you eating the honeycomb, you know?”

God, did he want to kiss you then.

“Nothing happened.”

Pieck frowns, but doesn’t argue it further as Porco finally reaches them.

“Which one do you want, Pieck?” he asks, not waiting for an answer before shoving the rose tart into Pieck’s hands. She smiles fondly, reaching forward to flick Porco’s forehead. Reiner rolls his eyes. “The lady said it’s a popular flavour with… the ladies.”

“Thank you, Pock.” She takes a big bite, the sugar glistening her lips and Reiner’s watching Porco’s face which only opens at the pure delight on their pretty little colleague. Mouth snapping shut, Galliard looks away as if that’ll help the faint redness of his ears, and Reiner shakes his head. He chews on his cheek to prevent the soft smirk edging onto his face before he claps Pieck on the shoulder and heads towards the kids. 

Behind him, he hears a laugh that could only be Pieck’s followed by grumbling and harsh hushing that could only be Galliard’s.

When he glances over his shoulder, he swears he must’ve imagined Porco kissing the corner of Pieck’s mouth, sugary syrup on his lips, too.

[heliopauseentertainments]

Settlement

Now that it’s finished, time for the final version of the promo.

10 chapters + epilogue.

Continuity: IDW1 Rating: Teen Relationship: Starscream/Prowl, past Megatron/Starscream Characters: Prowl, Starscream Warnings: No major warnings apply. Please see AO3 entry for full applicable tag AU: Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage Summary: In which, as part of a peace treaty, Prowl and Starscream are caught in a very, very unwanted arranged marriage.

Crossposting: In a reblog

First chapter under cut. Please see AO3/DW/Pillowfort for further chapters and the most up-to-date versions.

Note: Tumblr ate the formatting (I.E. inserting random extra spaces) and I tried to fix it to the best of my ability. The AO3 and DW versions are fine.

Inspired by a series of cracky drabbles on Tumblr.

Prowl could hardly believe it as he stormed into the Prime's office at the rebuilt senate building—not that they had a senate to speak of at  this point. It was just the only standing government building in Iacon.

He'd been kicked out of his tiny apartment. Sure, it was a studio with a cot instead of a real berth, but it was, or rather, had been his. Of course, he normally slept in a cot in his office anyway but that wasn't the point! It was the principal of the thing!

How dare Starscream lock him out!

That bastard shouldn't have even been there in the first place but for Rodimus and his asinine 'peace treaty' with Megatron. An arranged marriage as a sign of 'good will'. Bah! They should have just done it themselves and been each other’s punishments, but no. No, they had to delegate the job to their respective seconds.

And  the paperwork had only been signed that morning. Not even by the two   parties involved. The faction leaders had signed for them in proxy! That  was only legal due to lingering wartime policies that should have been revoked the very moment the ceasefire had been enacted.

"Rodimus, he's subletting my apartment." Prowl slammed his fist against the Prime's desk. Rodimus was already frowning at him because he had to stay late for this slag.

Starscream wasn't even living in that crappy studio apartment he'd kicked Prowl out of. The bastard had sublet it out to some random ex-pat ‘Con from Kaon—called himself Thunderhoof—and rented a much bigger apartment in Iacon on Prowl's salary. Who even gave him access to that? It certainly wasn't Prowl. What the hell did Megatron sneak in those arrangement documents? It was like he couldn't have been rid of Starscream soon enough. Not that Prowl could really bring himself to blame the old warlord. Four million years  of hanging around that scheming banshee would have driven anyone up the wall.

"Prowl, listen—"

"One day and he's taken my home, my salary, and barred from even entering the new apartment he rented with my money!"

"Look." Rodimus put his hands in the air to stop that train of complaints in its tracks. "Prowl, dude, clearly you gotta be a better conjunx."

"You don't even know what that means!" Confirmed bachelor  wouldn’t know what a committed relationship looked like if it bit him on the aft! Then again, Prowl’s “committed relationships” had all gone rather south…. At least he knew what they looked like! Furthermore, it wasn’t as though he chose Starscream. That slippery eel was thrust upon on him, a result of their equal rank. What the hell was Rodimus getting at?

"I dunno what else to tell you. I mean like, sure, you’re not exactly… warm and affectionate, but you could, maybe give it a go. Woo him with your… I’d say charms but I can’t. I can’t do it.” Prowl felt his right optic flicker and twitch. “Woo him with your… uh…" The Prime just gestured with a tired hand at what was vaguely Prowl’s entirety, with a special emphasis on his front bumper.

“Are you insane, Rodimus? Why would I even want to be in the same room as Starscream?!”

“I mean, you don’t have to—Oh, that reminds me.” Rodimus’ hand disappeared below the line of   the desk, rummaging around in a drawer from the sounds of it. “Megs tossed these at my head this morning before practically running out like he just sold me a lemon. Happiest I’ve ever seen him. I think they’re Starscream’s.”

In short order, what looked like… old-fashioned keys were tossed across the desk towards Prowl. He cautiously reached out to pick them up for examination. Most Autobot systems used electric locks tied to palmprints or rubprints. Why would Starscream possess these antiques? They would be a little more difficult to hack remotely, however.

Hm.

"Alright, so I'm gonna clock out now and you're gonna go back to the doghouse that is your office."

--

“You bought how many turbofoxes?”

“Oh, only twenty-five,” sneered the voice through the intercom. Prowl scowled at the locked door, arms crossed over his chest in distaste. He was  still locked out of this new apartment and he’d be promptly ‘turned  away’—threatened with violence upon his personage more accurately—by the  new tenant in his old apartment. While Prowl didn’t really want in this  new apartment, as it was far too big with multiple berthrooms and  Starscream was there, he needed to know what he was unwillingly spending  his money on.

“Twenty-five?!”

“It’s most befitting for a wealthy widower like myself, wouldn’t you say?”

“Starscream, given that we both know what constitutes a 'widower’, I can only assume you’re making a threat on my life.”

“Not at all, with you alive and well but out of my sight, I can keep collecting your salary and benefits in order to be kept in the style to which I have become accustomed.” It had only been a week since their bosses signed on their behalf.

"Don't you have your own money?" What a stupid question to have to ask. Surely  Starscream had his own salary but of course he wouldn't use it when another's dime was available. Prowl wasn't sure why he'd bothered asking something so obvious.

"Please, of course I do but you should know  by now with all of your data that that fool Megatron lives like a miser and assumes that's how all of High Command should live. I'm practically a pauper." Well, not with Prowl’s second-in-command salary in hand he certainly wasn’t.

--

Prowl wasn’t entirely sure how he had ended up in this position. That bothered him quite a bit on a rather personal level given his pride in accurately predicting outcomes based on probabilities and  simulations. None of the simulations he’d run ended up with him stuck in the storage closet of what would nominally be his own home underneath a grey, growling turbofox named Butch, all while Starscream had a good laugh at his misfortune from the doorway.

“At least use the front  door like a normal mech." Nevermind the fact that Starscream had   specifically removed his access from the pad on the front door. "Now I have to pay—” With Prowl’s money. “—to have someone repair and replace all of the ductwork.”

Maybe... he really ought to look into that set of keys Rodimus had given him.

[give-grian-rights]

Bets Against The Void Ch4

I DID AS I SAID I WOULD.

@petrichormeraki

Chapter 1

The Chapter Before

The Next Chapter

Crossposted on AO3

Full fic bellow! content warning for trauma, relating to  the Festival.

By the time they had managed to leave Looky Looky at My Cookie, being around the two teens felt like a hurricane. When Stress managed to convince the two to get something to eat- not that cookies and cake were exactly a healthy breakfast- that certainly hadn’t slowed them down from bouncing off the walls.

Though wary at first, Tommy couldn’t get himself to turn down free goods, without even being accused of stealing. While Grian had been digging through an enderchest, finding payment for the goods, Tommy and pulled Tubbo along to gawk at the builds.

“I don’t fucking get it! Why don’t you guys just, steal shit? I don’t see anyone here to stop that! Or- what’s stopping someone from griefing?” Tommy turned, eyes narrowed on the short brunette woman.

Stress merely tilted her head, brows knitted together in confusion. “We’re a whitelist server, Love! Of course none of us would steal. We’re on a mooshroom island, so we don’t have any worries about any creepers or the like, either.” She had explained, much to the boy’s frustration.

“Yeah, but if someone wanted to, they could just fuckin’ come here and steal! I mean, why would anyone care? Or how would you even notice, you all seem loaded.” He scoffed in frustration.

Tubbo, at his side, laughed. “That’s the coolest part, Tommy! They don’t worry about that! That’s why, like, they’re so cool! No one disrupts eachother or steals, so people can just..Work, and do crazy shit!” They gawked, clapping their hands as they bounced in place.

“I’ve always meant to go back and explore one of the replica worlds you guys put out. The fact that after you’re all finished, you just- put out the code? So others can make replicas of just- such intimate places? And experience it and walk through it? That’s so cool.” Tubbo finally stopped, having nearly ran out of breath.

That earned a flustered laugh out of Stress, nodding along. “Oh, I agree. I only got to join the Hermits two worlds back, on Hermitcraft Five! Me and Zedaph- oh, is he a something- were the new Hermits up until Grian finally joined us, last world.” 

“New Hermit is definitely a heavy torch to carry,” Grian would chirp in, emerging from the shop. “Gotta commit as much chaos as physically possible. Make a good name for yourself.” The brit finished with a wolfish grin, unruly bangs falling past grey, almost purple eyes that glanced between the teens.

“He’s got a point,” Stress snorted, nodding. “If you’re ever bored during your stay, no Hermit are short on stories. Anywho, Grian, you got the spending diamonds for the two?” She turned towards the man- not even a hair taller than herself.

“Yep, of course. Here you two go, I don’t have all my diamonds on me, but this should help cover just about whatever you need.” Pulling out the diamond icon from his tablet, he dropped a numbered amount to both, being deposited into their system. “W- what!” Tubbo exclaimed, pulling out a diamond from their system. “Surely not. Is my tablet reading this right? A stack of diamonds?” They gawked, clutching onto the jewel.

Tommy merely screeched, pressing his tablet against his chest. “Holy fucking SHIT-”

“Jeez does this feel like a language moment-” another voice chimed.

The boy went rigid. Tommy’s head snapping in the direction, as Tubbo nearly jumped out of their skin in surprise. Stood by an igloo- out of place in the clashing mycelium-grass island- was an equally odd man.

Platinum white hair held back(mostly) by a well-worn black headband, a silver plate on the front reading off NHO. A faded, dull green- littered with patches, pins, and buttons- and most unnerving, a black mask covering most of their face. And- most notably- was the pair of slick, glistening snowy owl wings sprawled behind them.

The white-haired figure paused, shifting their weight awkwardly. “Uh, hi.” The guy gave a small wave, expression unreadable past mismatched black-and-red eyes. The man’s hair barely even allowed for those to be viewable- aiding in his masquerade, made the combination of mask-and-bangs shield most of the visible emotion from the newcomers.

“Hey, Etho!” Grian chirped, pleasantly pleased by the appearance of the shady figure. For some reason that Tommy, yet again, doesn’t quite understand, Tubbo gasps.

“Holy- you’re Etho? Like, Ethos Lab?  Oh, oh Void, I spent so much time watching so many of your old redstone videos! It’s what got me so interested in it!” They grinned. 

Oh Prime, who doesn’t this place have? Tommy scoffed at the thought, eyes narrowing on the figure. What’s with the scary mask people always being the ones getting popular, and shit- 

“Oh, thanks. Always happy to hear, there’s always a use for more redstone users. Uh, looks like you got a bit of a tour going on?” The man- Etho, turned towards Grian and Stress. 

“Yep! We wanted to check in on them, I know you heard from the announcement the run down.” Stress grinned, glancing towards the teens. “These two are Tommy and Tubbo. Glad to see you have some idea about Etho, already. He’s always bound to be around somewhere.” 

Tommy scoffed, eyeing the man, a few inches shy of his own height. “Hi, and shit.” He sniffed, crossing his arms.

Etho shuffled in place, nodding. “Uh, yeah. Language, by the way.” He sheepishly huffed, running a hand through his hair. “Welcome, for however long you guys stay. ..And if I may recommend, make sure you head down to Shade-E E’s. Quick profits all around.” He added, pointing with his thumb behind him, towards the dark mansion.

The blond kid raised a brow, tilting his head.  Prime, what is up with this guy.  “Excuse me?” Tommy scoffed.

Grian groaned, rolling his eyes. “Etho. Please. The amount of glass i’ve picked up coming out of the District portal.” He glared pointedly towards the man.

“Mhmm..I don’t see what there is to be so upset over. I think I'm providing a very generous service, to our server.” He snickered, quirking an eyebrow.

Pointedly sending a scolding glare towards Etho, Stress turned towards the two teens. “C’mon, now. Mind that Mr. Ice Queen, now.” She huffed, fondness seeping into her voice.

“I know when I’m unwanted,” Etho chuckled, holding up gloved hands in mock-defense. See you two ‘round. You too, Tubbo, Tommy.” He’d nod towards each person as he named them, before a rocket was summoned to his hand. And, he was off with a trail of smoke.

At the poof and small bang from the minor explosive was all it took for an incident to form. Tubbo cringed, visibly flinching before they curled in on themself, ducking their head down as their arms clung around their head, their ears covered.

Tommy, on the otherhand, nearly jumped a foot in the air before throwing himself on Tubbo.  The two went tumbling to the ground with a huff. 

The two Hermits shot up, turning towards the teens. “Oh Gord, hey, it’s okay, those were just flight duration rockets! They can’t do a thing. Etho’s gone, now.” Grian dropped down next to them, brows pinched in concern. 

“We promise, it’s alright! We all use rockets like that. It’s alright, see? Everything’s fine. No hermit would do a thing to purposefully scare you, like that.” Stress chirped in, her heart sinking at the thought of two kids being so terrified at a simple firework.

Tommy pulled his head away from the crook of Tubbo’s neck, glaring harshly at the adults. Distrust was obvious in his blue eyes, before he untangled himself, pulling up Tubbo with him. “Why the fuck would he need fireworks? He had fucking wings.”

The Hermits exchanged a gaze for a moment, before Grian held up his hands pacifyingly. “That was just an elytra. They take the form most fitting for the wearer, at the moment. Stress marked him the Ice Queen of the season, since he owns that Ice shop,” He’d point with his thumb behind him, at a snowy igloo with an Ice sign above it. “So, he had snow-themed wings. Last world, my Elytra wings were small and white feathers. Rockets boost them, since Elytras can only glide.” Grian explained patiently.

“..Right. Sorry- I- Uh. I didn’t realize he had an Elytra.. S-Should’ve expected the rocket, if I knew.” Tubbo sheepishly laughed it off, their head dipped down.

The correlation between the splattered, sparked burn scars scattered across their face, and their reaction, wasn’t lost on the Hermits. 

There was a brief silence between the four, the blond boy’s arm wrapped tightly around the other teen’s.

“So- what are your wings, now?” Tubbo eventually asked, breaking the tense pause.

Grian made a noise of understanding. “Ah, yeah, I have parrots wings, now! Scarlet Macaw. Red’s the primary color. They’re a good bit bigger than last season’s elytra, since that one was chicken based.”

“Chicken based?” Tommy scoffed, cocking an eyebrow as he eyed the short, young-looking man.

“Yes, that was his whole thing. The Hermits still tease him for it. Mine are floral-based and skeletal, when I wear them.” Stress chirped, her tone warm. With a swipe of her holographic tablet, wings were equipped to her back. 

Indeed, they were as described. A frame of skeletal bones, a light, magenta glistening aura surrounding them. Moss, and large flowers clung to the wings. How exactly she flew with them was beyond anything Tommy knew- or was willing to take the time to understand.

“We won’t be using them, since- you two don’t have any. But it is about time we discuss what your plans are. Has your server’s admin sent any updates?” Grian switched subjects, glancing between the teens.

A tense energy still surrounded them, as Tubbo fidgetted and gripped onto the fabric at the bottom of their shirt.

“No,” Tommy scoffed, pulling his Communicator into his free hand. “The bastard hasn’t said a word.” The boy practically growled out the words, in frustration. 

“Alright,” Grian said easily. “Then we figure out what you two want to do.”

“There’s a lot of spare builds. Keralis, real close to here, has a whole big city. There’s a hotel there. It’s not empty, but it is.. Overwhelming, and a bit much. There are also Hermits starter bases.” Stress explained, trying to lay out the options for the two.

Tommy scowled, while Tubbo looked- well, spaced. Easily the quietest either Hermit had seen them, so far. This only added to their concern.

“I have my starter base. No Hermit would bother you, but it’s close enough that we can drop off supplies, and you’d be able to reach others if you need help. Both of you could have anything I left in those chests, Gord knows I have more than enough resources.” Grian offered, glancing between the teens.

“The spawn room was fine, Mr. Grian.” Tubbo cringed, tilting their head towards the builder.

Grian persisted, gently shaking his head. “No, it isn’t. There isn’t the supplies to really just- let you guys sustain, there.” He grimaced, before manifesting the spruce boat icon into his hand. “Hobbit hole with everything in it going to you two, or empty hotel room with no elevator.” He’d offer.

The pair were quiet for a moment, before Tommy groaned. “Fine. Hermithole, or whatever.” 

Nodding along, Grian trailed off towards shore. “Alright, we have a short journey ahead of us, then. And then you two can decide if you want to settle there and make do with what’s stored, or come back on your own accord for more. I won’t make either of you stick around for much longer.”

“Good.” Tommy grumbled, pulling back out his own boat.

Both groups were soon in their boats, and once more, were off into the ocean.

[seagreen-meets-grey]

When Lightning Strikes Ch. 15

When your life is nothing but a cloudless sky, lightning can come and strike you so unexpectedly, you won’t even know what hit you.

Or: When Hiccup and Astrid meet, it is as if lightning strikes.

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapter 14] [Chapter 16] [Chapter 17] [Chapter 18] [Chapter 19] [Chapter 20]

Crossposted on ao3 and ff.net

_______________

The rain splattering against the window glass shook Hiccup out of his stupor. Lips still tingling where they had just so brushed against hers, he hurried through the apartment and onto the balcony where the wind was blowing enough rain under the roof that it hit most of his clothes. Resigned, he picked up the drying rack and maneuvered it into the living room. It wasn’t like any of the clothes had already dried, anyway. Besides, this had distracted him for at least two minutes from his brain’s attempt at understanding what had happened in the last hour.

A knot was forming in his stomach and it grew limbs, spreading into his chest, knocking against his ribs for attention. “Oh, bud. What a mess, huh.” Toothless looked up from his nap on the couch, blinking at Hiccup before laying his eyes on the newest accessory in the room. A few socks were still swinging slightly from earlier momentum and he swiped at them with his paw. Hiccup picked him up and flopped onto the couch himself, putting the cat down on his stomach where it immediately lay down and eyed him expectantly.

“This is not going to end well. We can’t pretend anymore that everything’s fine. And I can’t still wait for her to get more clarity and maybe eventually come around, can I?” Toothless started licking his paw. “Yeah, yeah. I know, bud.” He sighed. “No more waiting, no more guessing, no more holding out. She’s on her way home right now. She’ll want to save her marriage. And I can’t stand between her and a happy life now, right?” The cat didn’t answer, only the voice of a radio host crossed the distance between him and the kitchen. He ran his hand over the sleek black fur until the sound of purring provided the right background noise for his thoughts.

“It doesn’t matter what I feel and it doesn’t matter if she ever felt something for me-“, he allowed himself a moment of daydreaming, “because she has a husband, and yeah, they need to work through some issues, but if she wants to do that, then I want to support her decision. I don’t want to, but then again, I do. Toothless, does that make sense?” The cat’s ears perked up at the sound of its name. Hiccup looked his bud in the eyes, searching for an answer to his dilemma. “I guess, if you love somebody, you want them to be happy, even if it means you leave empty-handed and with a life’s worth of heartache.”

For a while, he watched the gray sky through the living room windows, stroking his cat’s back. The radio host was replaced by ads, then music, briefly interrupted by a traffic report. Some confused Toyota driver was going the wrong way. Or maybe they were going the right way, they just picked the wrong lane. Or the wrong way on the right lane. Did that make sense? What was the right way to go here? Was he doing the right thing? Was there even a right lane to pick?

He groaned and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. The purring stopped. Soon enough, the weight on his stomach disappeared when Toothless decided he’d had enough of Hiccup’s drama. “You’re right, bud. Can’t keep doing this forever.” He lifted himself up with a heavy heart trying to pull him back down. But there was no use.

On his way out, he grabbed only his phone and an umbrella. The air had cooled significantly, raising goosebumps on his skin. Maybe he should have brought a jacket. He considered going back inside to get one, but the option of staying there and waiting for the world to fix itself was too tempting, so he turned around and started walking down the street. He had to end this.

_______________

She had to end this. The entire ride home, she drummed her fingers on the wheel, bounced her unoccupied leg up and down, shifted on her seat with restless energy at every traffic light, every intersection, every speed limit sign. She was both anxious and determined. There had never been a point in her life where she’d been more sure about anything. Least of all on her actual wedding day, as she could finally admit with a feeling of sweet relief.

When she turned her key in the door to the apartment, however, her hands felt like lead. While she’d come clean about her feelings to herself, she had yet to do it in front of someone else, someone who deserved to know it probably the most. Someone whose voice carried over from the living room.

Quietly closing the door behind her, she took off shoes and still damp jacket like she’d done for almost every day for the past year and a half. Her keys jingled and she closed her fist around them in order to smother the sound. Why she didn’t want him to know she was here was beyond her, but the second she decided on announcing her presence, someone else beat her to the chase.

Momentarily perplexed, she halted in her step towards the living room, trying to place the male voice chattering away, prompting a chuckle from Eret. Her curiosity whacked her anxiety over the head and she turned the corner to see who it was.

The man sitting next to Eret on the couch was unfamiliar to her. Tall, broad shoulders, muscles, casually-styled sandy hair. Crossed legs, one arm draped over the back of the couch, the other holding a beer, comfortable. He was the first to notice her, pausing mid-sentence to curiously raise his eyebrows in her direction. His eyes were the color of liquid chocolate, at least 70% cocoa. He was handsome, with a pleasant, welcoming smile. Eret followed his eyes and flinched.

Astrid raised a hand in greeting, uncertain about what to do. This other person in the apartment disrupted her plan. “Hi.”

“Hi, there.” The man waved back, looking at Eret expectantly, waiting for an introduction.

Eret cleared his throat, a nervous tilt in his smile. “Um, this is Astrid, my wife. Astrid… This is Timothy.” She racked her brain when that name rung a bell somewhere in the back of her mind, especially as he sent her a meaningful look. “My coworker. The one I told you about.”

“Oh,” she said. Then something clicked. “Oh.” The coworker he’d told her about. Repeatedly. The one she’d mistook for his mistress. Well, fuck, kill her now.

“Nice to meet you, hon.” When she frowned at that nickname, he was quick to put his hands up in an apologetic manner. “Sorry, that probably came out wrong. It’s just what I call everyone.” He slapped a hand on Eret’s knee. “Even this chap here.”

Eret copied the gesture. “And our boss.” The two men shared a laugh and Astrid’s eyes flitted back and forth between them, feeling like an outsider to a deeper inside joke. Their laughter subsided and they seemed to remember she was still in the room. “Do you… want to sit?” Eret asked hesitantly, conveying the same uneasiness she felt. She simply cut to the chase.

“We need to talk.”

Fortunately, Timothy understood his cue. “Well, hons,” he announced, drinking the rest of his beer and standing up from the couch, “I guess it’s time for me to hit the road. Gotta beat that Sunday traffic.” He laughed at his own joke when no one else did, not even his hon chap Eret, whose mood had suddenly turned serious.

They said goodbye to Timothy and when the door closed behind him, Eret discarded of the empty beer bottles and they sat in silence on separate ends of the couch for a few minutes. Astrid tried to sort through everything they needed to cover in this conversation, but she didn’t know where to begin, although it was all in a way connected. But what probably made her anxious the most was how to go on from there. She didn’t want to end this day with another fight, didn’t want to lose her closest friend in the aftermath of this whole mess. No more yelling and accusing, that’s what Hiccup had advised.

“So… Timothy, huh,” she made the first step, stilted lighthearted tone sounding absolutely misplaced to her ears.

But Eret gladly jumped onto the first wooden plank. In order to get to the other side of this chasm, they would have to build the bridge together. “Yeah. Tim is…”

“Your coworker,” she finished. “And not your mistress.” She didn’t avert her eyes as she said it, owning up to her mistake.

“Not my… No. But what I told you about Dana is true. She tried to seduce me. Several times, actually, even though I told her I’m married and not interested.” The old monster scratched at her abdomen, but she refused to pay attention to it.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked instead, keeping her voice as level as possible, and received the same effort from Eret.

“I tried to, but you wouldn’t hear me out! Besides, I could handle her. It didn’t mean anything to me. And with the way you accused me of cheating, I was glad I hadn’t told you earlier.”

She felt the words like a punch to the gut. “Well, if you had told me earlier, then maybe I wouldn’t have gotten so suspicious when you kept talking about your coworker every other minute of the day like a teenager gushing about his crush!” He winced and averted his face. She’d somehow struck a nerve there, which made her guilt explode from where it was nesting inside her ribcage. Throwing her hands up in the air, she jumped up and released it all with one loud yell. “GAH, I’M SORRY!”

He still wouldn’t look at her. “Okay.”

“What do you mean – okay?!” She started pacing through the room. “I’m hurt you didn’t share the fact with me that someone came onto you several times – which is harassment, by the way – and then I rubbed it in by accusing you of committing to it! I’m fucking sorry, Eret!” She kicked at the couch and a flash of pain shot through her toes. Well, so much for no yelling.

“Yeah.” The couch table was still more interesting than her. “That’s why Tim was here. We were discussing how to report Dana without her claiming harassment and sexism herself.”

Astrid put her hands on her hips, taking stance. “Just say the word and I’m gonna knock her fucking skull in.”

He huffed. “I can handle it.”

“You can han– Eret, I’m not some bozo offering you tips on selling your car! I know I should have let you speak yesterday when you called and I’m sorry I didn’t. I couldn’t handle it. I don’t know if you noticed, but I’ve been running from confrontations for quite a while. And will you please just look at me?!”

Jaw clenched, he finally met her gaze, and for the second time that day, she was met with a look in someone’s eyes she wasn’t expecting. She’d prepared herself for fury, for a stubborn wall of fire, for a loaded canon – but not for hurt, guilt, insecurity. Her anger deflated.

“I know.” He was almost whispering. “I should know. I should know that I can always count on you.”

“You should know?” The implication wasn’t lost on her and it stung like a hundred bees. “Why do you think you can’t count on me?”

“I… I didn’t mean that. I know you’d do anything. It’s just that…” He got on his feet, pulling at his short ponytail, voice rising. “Every time you become distant, and we fight, and you go on your solo trips, it’s like there’s a whole world out there for you that I’m not a part of. Over time, that feeling festers, and it makes me wonder.” He paused, piercing her with a look that demanded only the truth. “There’s someone else, isn’t there.” She blinked, sucker-punched to the lungs, staring back at him, shock evident on her face, judging by his grave nod. “So there is.”

“I…” This was not how she’d imagined this topic to be broached. Her first instinct was to tell him that nothing happened, but as of this afternoon, that would be a lie. “It’s complicated.”

Eret shook his head disappointingly, a gesture that irked her a lot. “Accusing me of cheating and then…”

“I didn’t cheat on you!” He regarded her with poisonous doubt, frown deepening. No more running. “Yes, I have feelings for someone else! But it’s not like I planned so, and it’s not like I didn’t try to fight it, and I certainly didn’t do it on purpose!”

“But still you didn’t talk about it with your husband!”

“Like that’s something you do!” The guilt, the frustration, it all came together in a giant wave, pressing every emotion out of her chest with the volume of a tsunami. “Like you just go to your spouse, the one you promised to love until death, the one you made a fucking huge commitment to for the rest of your life, you just go up to them and say hey, guess what, I’m in love with someone else, what do you think of that, do you want potatoes or rice for dinner?!” She sucked air into her lungs with a sharp, shaky breath, not slowing down, even as her eyes began to sting. “This is not something you do, it’s not something you fucking do, just like that, expecting not to make everything worse, and admitting that the biggest decision I ever made in my entire life led to a big! Fucking! Failure!”

A hot tear ran down her cheek and when she wiped it away, more followed, until she was quietly sobbing, shoulders shaking as she refused to break down completely. She felt raw and exposed, exhausted after her emotional outburst. Eret said nothing for a long minute. Then he sunk back onto the couch and put his head in his hands, fingers raking through his dark hair, messing it up until most of it had escaped the ponytail.

“I need a drink,” she mumbled and walked into the kitchen. Eyeing the bottle of wine on the shelf, she opted for some peppermint tea. Calming, refreshing, and didn’t have to cool in the fridge first. Waiting for the kettle to boil, she took a deep breath. Slowly, the shaking subsided and the tears stopped running. She wiped her hand over her swollen eyes and blew her nose on a paper towel.

When the water boiled, she grabbed her favorite mug from the cupboard and fished the last tea bag from the box. She let it steep for a few minutes, regaining her composure, before she returned to the living room. Leaning against the bookcase opposite to the couch, mindful of the stack of beautifully illustrated books behind her, she carefully took a sip, relishing the feeling of hot tea calming her nerves. Eret was still hunched over, head in his hands.

“I was gushing about my crush,” he finally said, voice low and brittle, laden with the effort of finding the courage to get the words out.

She sniffed, unsure if she’d heard him right. “What?”

“I… have feelings for someone else, too.”

It took her embarrassingly long to connect the dots. “Huh.” She sat down next to him, processing the information. In a strange way, it made sense. She couldn’t explain it, but it just felt… It felt like Eret. And it also explained all the knee touching from earlier. “Oh man,” she sighed. “We’re a mess, huh.”

He tentatively glanced up at her. She noticed the little pools of tears that had formed in his eyes and she realized he’d been as afraid to tell her about his feelings as she’d been, probably even more so. Eret had always been so sure about himself and his place in the world, something that had attracted her to him in the first place. Discovering this new side of himself, the confusion, the fear of people’s reaction, her reaction – she couldn’t exactly say she could relate. Meeting his worried expression, she gave him a reassuring smile and reached for his hand. His sigh of relief cut straight through her heart, and when he accepted her hand and returned her light squeeze, it felt like companionship.

“So… Timothy, huh,” she repeated her earlier line, eliciting a small shaky laugh from Eret. He sat up and leaned back against the cushions, wiping a hand over his face.

“Yeah… He’s great.” He turned to her with an earnest face. “I’m sorry. You’re right, this is a mess.”

“Well, I’m glad we agree on something for once.”

For a while, they just sat there holding hands in companiable silence, feeling closer than they had in a very long time, the only sound an occasional slurping of tea.

“I know I should have asked this sooner,” she finally said, “but do you want to talk about it?”

He seemed to be wrestling with himself for a moment and she tried her best to not feel offended by his hesitation. She wasn’t any better, after all. “I don’t really know what to say. One day I’m a heterosexual fella going to bed with his wife, the next I’m thinking about all the different ways I wanted to touch my new coworker. The rest just spiraled from there.”

“When did that happen?”

“About a year ago,” he confessed, carefully regarding her reaction.

“Okay, so, do you know if Timothy’s into men?”

“Uh yes, very openly so, he carries his cute little rainbow flag everywhere and constantly complains to me about the horrible guys he’s dated.”

“Good, that’s good.” He curiously raised his eyebrows at the scheming look on her face. “Have you talked to him about your sexuality?”

“No, I haven’t told anyone, and how are you so okay with this?”

Now she really did feel offended, putting the empty mug on the couch table with a clank. “Excuse me? My best friend tells me he likes dicks and he asks me if I’m okay with it?!”

“Your best friend is also your husband. And that’s not what I meant. You’re weirdly calm about the fact that I’ve been emotionally cheating on you for months on end.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Sorry, did you not hear me yelling about my feelings for another man back there? You know, right before I burst into tears? We’re in the same boat here, buddy.”

He snorted. “I don’t know if I like this sarcasm on you.”

“It may have rubbed off on me from someone else,” she admitted.

“Right. Your someone else.”

“Hmm…” She bit her lip. “I really am sorry. I thought about telling you, but I never did, because I had this stupid notion in my head that telling you would mean I failed at something. Namely, making the right decision when I married you.”

“That… No, that makes sense. Sounds like Astrid to me.”

“But was I right?” she asked uncertainly. “Does this mean I failed?”

“Well… You said earlier – or better, you yelled – that your decision led to big failure. Do you really think that’s what this is? A big, fucking, failed marriage?”

Now that she heard him say it, she didn’t need to contemplate much. “Yes and no? I don’t regret marrying you. I love you, but not the way I used to. You’re my closest friend and incredibly important to me, and I will always treasure our time together, past and present. But… That is all I can give you.”

An enormous weight disappeared from her chest when she said it out loud and when Eret nodded and agreed, “I feel the same… I think.” He scratched his head. “No, I’m sure that’s what it is. And I’m also one hundred percent sure I was very into you, which makes me at least bisexual, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe.” She shrugged. “Sexuality can be fluid, right? So who knows what nuance of sexuality you are and what you’ll be next week. Anyway, I wouldn’t be mad at you if you decided you’ve always been gay. Would it feel weird to hear you tell me you never actually loved me? Probably. Would I get hung up on it, knowing you cared about me deeply in a platonic way? Fucking hell not.”

Eret grinned in a relieved and almost proud way. “I’m glad you’re my friend, Hofferson.”

“Me too.” She took a deep breath. “So, does that mean…”

“That this is over?” he completed her sentence and gestured between them, an understanding passing between them. “Yes, I would say so.”

Relief washed over her, combined with a bit of sadness, then peace, and not one flicker of doubt. She leaned into her best friend, her soon-to-be ex-husband, and hugged him tightly for a long minute.

When they pulled away, the shadows in the room had grown longer, announcing the imminent departure of the sun. Soon the horizon would light up colorfully, ending the day with a temporary, ever-changing painting that put every self-respecting lava lamp to shame. Realizing how late it already was, Astrid couldn’t believe how much time had passed since she’d had lunch with Hiccup, and how long she’d talked with Eret.

“Full disclosure, though,” she said while getting up to switch on the light, “last week I took a pregnancy test and it was negative.” Eret blinked a couple times. “Turns out it had just been a mixture of too much emotional stress and chocolate cake that made me take it.”

“Chocolate cake,” he repeated a bit dumbfounded, following her as she carried her empty cup into the kitchen.

“Yeah, I tried to bake the perfect cake and the one I ate was way too sweet.”

“The one you– Did you eat an entire chocolate cake by yourself? While your favorite pool was closed?”

“Oh, I’m glad that’s the part you choose to focus on.”

He sat down at the kitchen table and absentmindedly mimed stroking an invisible beard, a habit he’d picked up when he’d grown an absolutely hideous goatee in college. “I don’t know, I’m still processing it. Were you… sad? Okay? I don’t know what to say here.”

“I was glad. You know I want kids one day, but not like this.”

He nodded. “Probably best. Not that I wouldn’t have been happy regardless – wait, was it even mine?”

“The baby that doesn’t exist?” she scowled at him. “Yes, of course it would have been yours, you muttonhead!”

Holding his hands up in surrender, he believed her. “Alright, alright. I don’t know, could have been your secret lover.” Her scowl deepened and he quickly continued. “But you’re right. It’s better this way.”

“Good, glad we agree. Now will you please stop with the non-existent beard? You look ridiculous.”

“Tim thinks it’s funny.”

That brought the scheming look back on her face. “Seems to me like he’s interested in you. Now that you’re single, you should ask him out.”

A nervous chuckle escaped him and he squirmed a little in his seat. “I don’t know. I just agreed on a divorce.”

“That’s not the problem. You’ve wanted to do it for a long time. You’re a chicken.”

“I’m just being considerate of you–“

“Bullshit. You’re a chicken.”

With a groan, he frowned at her. “You’re quite a handful sometimes, do you know that?”

“Chicken,” she sang, finding joy in pushing his buttons without another fight looming on the horizon. She’d missed her friend and she finally had him back.

“Okay, fine! I haven’t had to ask anyone out since you. I don’t know how to flirt anymore.”

She snorted. “Seriously?” Sitting down next to him, she draped one hand behind him over the chair, shuffled closer and placed the other on his knee, regarding him from beneath her eyelashes. “Are you sure about that, hon?” He jokingly pushed her away, tipping her chair a little. “I think you were doing just fine earlier. Just text him that you want to go out for beer and tell him what happened. Then you can pepper in that you want his dick and voilà, you got yourself a hot date.”

“Yeah, yeah. I think I’m just gonna start with the beer.” He fished his phone out of his pocket and began to type before he paused and looked at her in earnest. “I feel good about this. How about you?”

Something told her he wasn’t just talking about asking out his crush. “Yes, absolutely. This feels right.”

With a content nod, he continued typing and hesitated just a second before sending his message. “Phew, done.” Another thought seemed to come to his mind. “Err, by the way, you’re not my dictator.”

“Huh?”

“Yesterday on the phone, I called you a dictator. That’s not true.”

“Yeah, we both said pretty mean things in the past. Things we didn’t actually mean and are sorry for.” Hiccup would be proud of her. She’d stopped running from an important confrontation, she’d talked about her feelings, she’d let Eret speak without accusing him of stuff, and she’d only yelled a little. It felt good. She wanted to tell him. Where was her phone?

“Apology accepted and returned. Great, now that we settled that, you still haven’t told me about the other guy.” He cracked his knuckles, receiving an unimpressed look. “I want to know who will pay part of the divorce.”

She punched his biceps. “He’s not going to pay shit, you cocky bastard.”

Rubbing the now sore spot on his arm, he shrugged and earned himself an eyeroll. “Worth a try.”

Seemed like calling Hiccup had to wait a little. But after waiting for so long to tell him about her feelings for him, what were a few minutes more? It wasn’t like he was going anywhere.

“Okay… Um. Do you remember Dagur’s 30th birthday party?” she started.

Eret chuckled. “Eh, partially. It was a wild night.”

“But do you remember Hiccup?”

He searched his memory for a second. “Heather’s ex? The skinny guy with the jawline?”

“Yes. He was at the party.” Now came the part that was hard to tell the guy that she’d been engaged to back then. “I will not call it fate or destiny or anything at first sight. But… Do you remember when you claimed you could repair the oven by yourself and were almost electrocuted?”

Not sure where this was going, and with the remnants of a hurt ego in his posture, Eret nodded. “Yeah?”

“Well, meeting Hiccup was like that, but without the pain. I felt like I was the current. And the funniest thing is, the moment I saw him, the lightning storm started outside.”

“Oh yeah,” he mumbled. “I remember there being rain.”

Encouraged by his lack of judgement so far, she continued. “I didn’t understand my sudden attraction to him at first, I just knew that it was strong and it only grew stronger over time, even though I only met him a couple times after that. That one time when we were out doing wedding chores, remember?”

After a minute of contemplation, he nodded. “When you bought that book that he painted pictures for and were super excited about it.”

She rolled her eyes. “He didn’t paint pictures for it, he illustrated the cover. And it was absolutely gorgeous!”

“So, he did paint pictures for it.”

“Oh, shut up. You know what I mean.”

He shrugged, not understanding what the big deal was. But he waved at her to continue.

“I thought it was just a phase and I didn’t want to bother you with it and dampen your mood. You were so happy and looking forward to our wedding and I didn’t want to ruin that by telling you something that would have been over just a few weeks later, anyway. Only that it wasn’t a phase. And the longer I waited, the worse it got.” Her fingers found a lose thread on the tablecloth and she absentmindedly started playing with it. “I was in denial about it. That was the only way for me to keep my sanity the closer we came to our wedding day. In the end, I decided to go through with the wedding because I didn’t want to just throw away everything we built together.”

“Did…” He gulped. “Did anything ever happen between you back then?”

She shook her head. “No. He came to the party, though. We talked outside for a while and I invited him in, as a friend. But he said we shouldn’t see each other anymore. Looking back, that was probably for the best, no matter how much it hurt, because the moment I saw him again a week ago, it all came back in an instant. Not that it was ever truly gone.”

A spark of understanding flashed up in Eret’s eyes. “Is that why you acted so weird from time to time? Distant, I mean?”

“Yeah, that was part of the reason. I just… I felt like something was missing from my life. That’s why I went on my solo trips. To try and find myself, I guess. It helped in the moment, but not in the long run.”

He looked bashful. “And I thought you were going on vacations with your lover.”

Astrid discovered that being on the other side of such an accusation didn’t hurt any differently than making the accusation herself. “I would never do that! I may have kept important feelings from you, but I would never cheat!”

“Me neither.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

She crossed her arms. “Yes! I only accused you of it because I wanted a reason to escape a relationship that didn’t make me happy anymore. I know I should have just talked to you earlier. We already settled that.”

“Okay.” He nudged her with his foot. “Go on.”

“Like I said, I ran into him last week. I thought I could just be friends with him and push my feelings away, but no.” A little nervous, she left the tablecloth be and twirled strands of hair between her fingers. “I was with him when you called. He showed me his favorite spot in the woods. And… Well, he advised me to talk to you about everything. But I hadn’t even admitted my feelings to myself, so anything beyond that seemed impossible. I lashed out at him as well.” The memory of their fight was still fresh on her mind. It had only happened a day ago, but it felt like weeks had passed since then.

“So, he doesn’t know how you feel.”

“Well… He might have an idea. He certainly knows there’s something between us; he addressed it during our fight yesterday. And… I kind of kissed him today. I didn’t plan on doing it, I just… did it. It wasn’t even a real kiss, our lips barely touched, but– I think it was obvious enough.” At this point, she had pulled out a considerable amount of hair with her fingers, tangling it into a ball. “Then I decided I could no longer go on like that and came here.” Eret was quiet for a while. “What do you say?”

“I say we should have talked way sooner. Would have saved us both a lot of pain. Did you talk to anyone else about this?”

“My mom, but that was still before the wedding. She definitely suspects something now as well, though. And I thought about telling Ruffnut, but she’d have just found a way to include your looks into her arguments and based her opinion on that.”

He chuckled. “Good call. That woman needs to get laid more.” She kicked his shin. “Ow! What was that for?”

“She doesn’t need to get laid like some horny rabbit! She’s just very shallow regarding looks sometimes.”

“Okay, sorry,” he apologized, rubbing his shin. That should be a nice bruise tomorrow. Good. “Does he like you?”

Her heart skipped a beat. “I think so.” A sudden memory flashed through her mind. “I think he even told me once! I ran into him shortly after he and Heather broke up and he said he liked someone else. He said he couldn’t ask her out because she was engaged. Looking back, what are the chances he wasn’t talking about me?” The more she pondered it, the more obvious it seemed. Excited butterflies were dancing through her stomach. No, really, was she remembering this right?

The short sound of a speeding race car came from Eret’s phone, three times in a row, and the little notification light lit up. Eret fumbled for the device. From the look on his face, she could guess who texted him back.

“And?” she asked impatiently.

“He’s in for a beer. Tomorrow after work.”

“Yes!” She held her hand up for a high-five, but Eret was too busy texting Timothy back.

“Now you,” he said when he put his phone down. “I can’t be the only one going on a date right after breaking up with my spouse.”

“Right.” Her heart started pounding as she got up to retrieve her phone from her jacket and leaned against the kitchen counter. She was going to do this. Now.

She had three missed calls. One from her mom, which she ignored. Because the other two were from Hiccup. Understandably, after she basically bolted from his kitchen earlier. There was a voicemail attached. With jet planes flying through her stomach, she pressed her phone to her ear, heart kicking harder against her ribs when she heard his voice.

As she listened to his message, one plane after the other crashed from the sky in a fiery explosion.

Eret looked at her in concern. “Everything alright?”

Her pulse was deafening in her ears, blood rushing through her veins, trying to make her heart beat again. “Fuck.”

[kx-writes]

Oblivious - Ch. 1

Pairing: TodoDeku, MomoJirou, more to come

Rating: Teen+ [some language & suggestive comments]

Overall Summary: High School Senior Year AU || Todoroki is head over heels for Midoriya, who just too damn oblivious to notice his advances. 

Chapter Summary: Todoroki spends another lunchtime staring at his hopeless crush, Kaminari, Jirou, and Momo offer some helpful advice.

*crossposted on ao3*

________________________________________________________________

If Shouto could describe Midoriya in one word, it wouldn’t be beautiful or charming or intelligent (despite him being every one of those things), it would be reckless. Utterly and stupidly reckless. These were the thoughts going through his head while he watched said boy teetering on the edge of the ladder as he reached to string up a banner in the cafeteria.

“I wonder if I started to stack my chips on him, how many high I could get.” 

“Oh at least ten. He’s in ‘oogling Midoriya’ mode.”

“Will you two please be more sensitive, you know he has difficulty-”

“I can hear you,” Todoroki turned around and faced the rest of his lunch table again. Jirou was batting Kaminari’s hand away from her food, but Momo was the only one who had the decency to look ashamed. “And I am not oogling him.” He stared pointedly at the electric blond.

Kaminari only shrugged in response and stole another chip from Jirou, “Y’know Todoroki, you’re pretty much the prince of this school. Athletic, pretty, senior, and rich to boot? Just go up to him and ask him out. No way he’s saying no.” 

Shouto furrowed his brows, the only sign on his face of him being in thought. He supposed that while some of his qualities were attractive, Midoriya was not so shallow to date him for the money. And his looks were out of the question. A childhood accident had left an unsightly scar over his eye, plus his natural heterochromia, and his weird birthmark of half his hair being white. Nothing was attractive about that. 

“I mean if I were you,” Kaminari continued, snapping Shouto from his thoughts, “I would ask out everyone in school.” 

“You already do, dumbass.” Jirou chimed in. 

“Okay, okay. Enough you two,” Ah, there was the voice of reason he always appreciated, “Sho, why don’t you try just starting a conversation with him? It couldn’t hurt and you could get to know one another.” Momo suggested. 

Now Shouto’s lips pursed in a small frown. Talking to Midoriya also was not a great option. Every time he tried it was like his brain turned to mush and he stopped saying anything sensible. He almost outwardly cringed at the memory from the last time he interacted with Midoriya.

“Hey Todoroki! Ochako has me helping out the theatre department by handing out these audition flyers!”

Shouto read the paper he was holding, but he felt warm. Too warm. And his tongue was too heavy in his mouth to form full words. “Newsies?” He managed out, still not meeting those deep green eyes.

“It’s our musical this year, about the Newsie strike, young love, and some cool tap dance numbers! Or… at least that’s how Ochako described it, I’ve never actually seen it.” He chuckled lightly and Todoroki felt weak in the knees from the sound. 

“I used to tap.” Stupid. Why did those words leave his mouth? He hated dancing. And performing. And being in the spotlight of any kind and-

“Really!? That’s so cool Todoroki! You should totally audition, here,” Midoriya placed a flyer in his hands and that big grin of his stopped Todoroki from handing it back, “I gotta go now, but I hope to see you there!” 

The rate his heart was beating was not normal. This pace could only be set by Izuku Midoriya. It was dizzying, being in his presence. 

“Hold on-” Kaminari interrupted his retelling, “You used to tap dance? Why have I never heard of this before?” 

Todoroki only shrugged, so Momo answered for him, “That’s actually how he and I met, in dance class.” 

“Okay, he describes Deku like he’s some poet from ancient greece and you’re focused on his tap dancing ability?” Jirou asked before crunching down on a chip. 

“Fair, but we’ve already established Todoroki is so gay for this guy. If you’re just too shy I can talk to Bakugou if you want? He’s known Midoriya since they were kids.” 

But Shouto shook his head, “No. It’s fine. If I just ignore it long enough, the feelings will go away.”

“Yo dude… Last week you compared his freckles to the constellations of stars in the sky.” Jirou dead panned. 

“And yesterday you would’ve ran into that water fountain staring at him if Yaomomo didn’t pull you and snap you out of your stupor.” Kaminari added. 

Shouto looked to Momo, pleading for some kind of reprieve from her. 

But Momo politely looked away and said, “I don’t think these feelings will go away as easily as you think.”

Todoroki sighed. “You guys are no help…” 

“Hey, I have an idea!” The loud blond exclaimed, “Why don’t you actually audition for the musical? Two birds, one stone. You want to get to know Midoriya better and the theatre department could use an experienced tapper!” 

“Momo taps too.” He mumbled back. 

“I would audition, but I have too many responsibilities with the Student Council. This might actually be good for you, Shouto.” Momo smiled softly. 

“I hate to say Denki has a good idea, but it is a good idea.” Jirou shrugged. 

Shouto looked back at the banner Midoriya and Uraraka hung up. The two were gone by now, probably taking the ladder back. But the sign read ‘NEWSIES AUDITIONS: AFTERSCHOOL WEDNESDAY’. 

“...I’ll think about it.” Except, he already had his mind made up. And the three he was currently sharing a table with, knew that too. 

Shouto Todoroki would be auditioning for Newsies and it was set in stone the moment the suggestion left Izuku Midoriya’s lips. 

[hollypastl]

the disappearance of [REDACTED] ch.2

miya atsumu/reader

Summary: "MISSING: MIYA Y/N" It reads. Underneath is a picture of yourself. Age, height, weight. Everything important is listed. How embarrassing.

Genre: angst/mystery

Warnings: missing persons, time skip spoilers

Notes: crossposted on ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/28726002/chapters/70468146#workskin

chapter two: you will live and die for them because that’s your way

Osamu is still as a statue as he processes what his brother’s just told him.

It doesn’t seem real.

“That doesn’t make any— No. I know you’re you and she’s her, but you two are…” He trails off and starts wiping down the bar again. It’s a nervous habit Osamu picked up sometime when he wasn’t watching. “I mean... last week she didn’t act like anything was—”

Atsumu is busy reeling from his brother almost(?) complimenting his relationship that he almost misses it. “Last week?”

He nods. “Yeah, the stall was packed at the Friday game… She jumped in and manned the register so the rest of us could work on finishing orders.”

“Last week, though? You’re positive?”

He nodded.

“You saw her?”

From your usual court side seats, you could hear shoes squeaking and players panting. The thirty second row just wasn’t the same. At the same time, watching the game from a birds eye view gave you a new perspective and appreciation.

You leaned forward and locked on to Sakusa for the serve that would start the set. Your cheek sunk into your hand as his serve shot almost straight into the floor if not for a quick save by Komori that he bounced with only a single arm.

Someone across the way whooped and your eyes darted side to side as the ball hopped in the air and the setter shot a quick toss through the air. Your eyes landed on the spiker it was hurtling towards. From this far away, it was impossible to see, but you knew Suna well enough. Right now he was probably thinking something like, ‘There’s a three man block in front of me, is there really any use in jumping? I’m not gonna land a point anyway, so I might as well conserve my energy.” Still, he leaped for all he was worth and dinked it with his freakishly long fingers at the last second.

“Woohoo!” You screeched. Ignoring the fans who turned around to frown at you. Understandable. Why were you sitting in the MSBY Black Jackals section and dressed in black and gold merch if you were gonna cheer for the other damn team? You glare right back at them and slurp on your empty drink. The action only reminds you that you’re kind of hungry.

Inunaki bumps it back up all the same. Not surprising considering how slow and weak dinks are, but you gasp and groan aloud with the rest of the fans when Atsumu immediately tries to dump the ball back over the net. The play is messy and his hands are easy to read. Suna springs back up and spikes it down before the two even have a chance to tussle over it.

The buzzer rings and the EJP Raijin are awarded the point.

“Now that’s a failure of a setter dump if I ever saw one. Not what you usually expect from a player like Miya.”

“He does seem to be off his game today— oh, and there it is. Coach Foster is subbing in another player.”

“It’s only the second set, and the Jackals did take the first. There’s plenty of time for him to cool off and get back on the court to show us some of his monster serves.”

The commentators switch to talking about the serving skills of the various players at today’s game, which you don’t bother to stick around for. You did come to see Atsumu, after all. No point in staying if he’s not on the court.

You gather your hair in a low ponytail and tie it back, put your jacket back on, and make sure you have your wallet and phone still. All secure.

The stadium isn’t one you’re used to, so you refer to the map in the concrete hallway. The exit closest to the station is the north one and you’re at the southeast. It’s only when you turn to go that you realize you don’t know whether to go left or right.

“Well, it is just a giant circle,” You mutter. “Doesn’t really matter which way.”

From further inside, you can hear the buzzer go off one, two three times, signaling the end of the set. “That was quick.” The halls flood immediately and you’re forced to slow down and trudge through, rather than hyperwalk like you usually would. This whole trip is turning out to be one inconvenience after another. Atsumu is off his game. You’re hungry. People in this crowd keep bumping into you.

“Hey lady, get in line like the rest of us.” One asshole grunts and you reflexively scowl at him and the five brats he’s with. It drops from your face. If you had to deal with five kids under the age of ten all by yourself, you’d be grumpy too.

“Sorry, m’bad.” Curious, (and still hungry) you check what it is they’re in line for. Immediately, you’re in a better mood. Skirting the line, you hop over the gate and swipe some onigiri right out of the display box.

“Oi! What the hell are you— Oh, [y/n].”

“Hey there, stranger! Fancy meeting you here.” In two massive, disgusting, and arguably impressive bites, you swallow the onigiri (which is in no way, bite sized) and pluck the baseball cap off his head.

“Hiii, welcome to Onigiri Miya, what can I get for you today?” You ask, pulling your ponytail through the hat and bumping your hip with Osamu’s. The old man isn’t all that disturbed by the abrupt change in cashier and prattles on a list of items long enough to feed a battalion. You’re quick to click it into the POS and nod your head to the order printer that’s situated further back in their makeshift workstation. “I’ve got this. Go do your thing.” He rubs his hat hair sheepishly. He wasn’t planning on taking it off today. "Here's your receipt, sir. Please pick up your order at the station to your left. Good afternoon, it’s lovely to have ya here at Onigiri Miya, whatcha cravin’?”

“That’s it? What else did she say? Where’d she go after? When did she leave?” Atsumu’s hands buried themselves in his hair, practically pulling it out by the roots.

“I don’t know! Um… The rush came after the second set, I think? N’she left right after. I assumed she just went back in ta watch the game!”

“But she didn’t say anything weird?”

“No! We were so busy I barely said two words to ‘er!” Osamu had never seen his brother look so frantic.

“I’m going back to the police.” He rasped out.

— — —

At the station, Detective Kano looks over your file.

CASE: Missing Persons

FULL NAME: Miya [y/n]

BIRTHPLACE: Sapporo

CURRENT RESIDENCE: Osaka

Looking at it plainly, the answer is clear. As much as his subordinate and your husband don’t want to believe it, you’ve left. Nobody took you or forced you. The reason could be anything. You got bored or felt stifled in your marriage, (it did say you two had gotten married at twenty. That’s awfully young to make a lifelong commitment) you met another man, (always a possibility) or it could be that you were running for your life from an abusive piece of shit. Your case wouldn’t be the first like that and nor would it be the last. He didn’t care how ‘worried’ your husband appeared to be. For all he knew, the bastard could just be worried about people finding out and it ending his career.

"Oi, Tanigashi.” He barked. The rookie’s head shot up. “We find any bodies in the past couple days?”

“Time frame?” She asked, already typing away.

“Last seen on Tuesday, the fourteenth”

“Male? Female? What else, ya gotta help me out here.”

“Twenty two year old female.”

She hummed. “Tourist?”

He shook his head.

“Is she a short emo meets Harajuku model typa person?” She sighed, turned the monitor in his direction.

He sighed. “Nope. Sorry fer wastin’ your time. Get back to work.”

“Detective?” The office secretary popped his head in the door. “The statements you ordered just came in. Should I print them out for you?”

“Yeah, thanks kid.” Kano heaved himself out of his seat and cracked his bones. Years on the force and keeping up with full contact Karate were starting to get to him. Maybe he should take his daughters advice and take up Tai Chi or Yoga.

He crinkles open a wrapper and pops the gum in his mouth, reading the evidence as it’s freshly warm off the machine.

The bank statements aren’t anything out of the ordinary. You’ve withdrawn everything from your personal account. The joint account has been left alone. He jots down a note. ‘Set financial alert for suspicious activity.’

This way he’ll know if one of you tries to remove the other from the account. Again, he noted that you hadn’t withdrawn anything from the joint. As his spouse, you were legally entitled to it. And with Atsumu’s fat check from three seasons of pro sports under his belt, it wasn’t like he would miss a little bit all that much.

If anything, it told the detective that you didn’t hate him. Had you wanted him to suffer, it would be easy to empty the accounts and leave him broke.

“Rule’s out abuse.” He mumbles. Unless you were afraid of retribution should he find you. Though with how thorough you were being, (phone left behind. bank account empty. social media untouched) something told him you didn’t have any plans to be found.

Kano sighs, flipping through more pages and organizing them as he goes.

“This just gets more and more complicated.” He stops. “Hey, kid. Where’s the health report?”

He paled, worried he had missed something. “Ummmmmmmmm.” His fingers click across his email. “Looks like the hospital needs a formal report before releasing any information. Sorry, I’ll get right on that.”

— — —

Tucked away behind more wealthy and more flashy neighborhoods, hidden and huddled by a ring of trees, the only way you could ever know the Miya household was there was if you had been there before.

Which you had.

Ducked below a hill off the main road, it’s a modest split level house which seemed a lot smaller when you were younger. Then again, it had been inhabited by both the boys, their mom, and all the people they attracted. Which happened to be a lot. Despite being more than a little rude, Atsumu and Osamu were always surrounded by people wanting to be their friend.

You park in the driveway and enter through the back door on the porch, which has been unlocked since you first started visiting when you were fifteen.

“Toyo! It’s [y/n]. You here?” You called, walking through the door. No answer.

You walked through the kitchen and down the six steps to the main level.

“Toyo? You in there?” Politely soft, but loud enough to be heard, you knocked on her door. Still nothing.

You swung the door open.

“To—” Surrounded by tissues, old bowls of food, and shivering, was Miya Toyo in all her glory. “Gosh.” You whispered. “I knew you were sick, but this is ridiculous.”

Quietly, you grabbed the heating pad in her nightstand drawer and plugged it in, setting it next to her on the bed. Then, gently pulling the covers up and smoothing them out. Not that it mattered. The woman slept like a rock. You wondered if she had always dealt with being sick like this: alone, with no one to care for her.

Then you were headed back towards the kitchen. The door to Toyo’s room was carefully shut. You didn’t want your noise to wake her up. On the way back, you shuddered. No wonder she was sick, she kept the house colder than an icebox.

You made a pit stop at the boy’s room, sliding open a closet door, grabbing a hoodie, and smelling it.

“Hmm… Yeah, that’s Atsumu.” You recognized and quickly pulled it on. The man threw a fit anytime you wore Osamu’s clothes, so you had learned to differentiate the two. You chuckled. That was one of the ways you had figured out he had a thing for you.

A second pair of socks was also stolen. Yours were much too thin to keep your toes from falling off. “Hmm hmmm. Hmm hm, hmmm hm.” You hummed absentmindedly as you switched on the kettle and searched through the pantry and fridge for ideas on what to make.

[quickspinner]

WIP Report 4/22/20

So just a heads up (I know, I gotta stop starting sentences with so, it’s a bad habit) on how things are going and what you can expect to see soon and slightly less soon! Here’s a quick rundown on what’s in progress ‘round these parts.

Sorry, this is long because y’all ought to know by now I’m a wordy bitch! So (I did it again) buckle up I’m about to ramble.

Backlog - I still have some works to crosspost here from AO3, so you’ll still see some of my older work pop up in the evenings for the rest of the month. I’m going to do some of my older one shots for the rest of this week, and then Sunday will be the college AU multichapter I did for the first week of Lukanette Month last year (not Hey Gorgeous but a different college AU I did before that). Again if you’ve already read my AO3 stories and you don’t want to see them again here you can use the ‘backlog’ tag to filter. 

Weekly Prompts - I’m still doing them, although I missed last week’s and I may actually miss this week’s (or it may inspire one of the kiss prompts) just because I’m so behind. But I’ll still be doing those, they’re fun and they help me from getting tunnel vision on a project too badly. As a reminder the @mlweeklyprompts is open to anybody and is any ML ship allowed, no ship required, just check the rules and tag the blog so that you can be reblogged. And if you don’t feel like following the rules, there’s no prompt police, so you can do what you want, it just won’t be reblogged if it’s outside of the guidelines. 

Beautiful Dreams - I’m so thankful for the people who’ve let me know they enjoyed the first chapter. Now that I’ve started posting this will be my absolute priority until it’s finished. I love this fic, I’ve been working on it a long time, and I’m really excited for it. I know it’s a little heavier than my usual fare but it’ll still have happy endings all around so I hope you’ll stick with me. I’m expecting about a week to a week and a half between updates. The first four chapters are mostly written so there will be some editing and polishing that has to happen (I’m still debating about exactly where to to put the break between chapters two and three) and I will also be working on the last two chapters so that hopefully by the time the first four chapters are up, the last two chapters will also be mostly done so there won’t be a huge delay there. These are long chapters compared to my previous stories, so there’s that too. Chapter 1 was the shortest by quite a couple thousand words so far. 

Gamer AU - Also high up on the list. I’m actually debating making this a separate story from the rest of I’ll Never Not Know You and splitting it into chapters because it’s getting to be kind of a monster to do all in one bite. But, even if I do that, because I write terribly out of order I don’t have a part 1 to put up yet. I was thinking I could finish this week but I just got so behind last week that I don’t think it’s going to happen, I’m still catching up on the have to do list and I haven’t even had a chance to touch this yet.

April Kisses - I’ll keep this going if I can get some short ones up over the next couple of days to give me some breathing room; I hate to give up so close to the end - there’s only 9 days left (8 because I wrote a short cute one for tomorrow already). They’re not really worth delaying the other projects over, though, so I’ll just have to play it by ear and see where I’m at.

The Soulmate AU - I hear you guys that want this, I love it a lot and once I get through the rest of Beautiful Dreams I really want to focus on this and toss some ideas with my writing buddies and see if I can really get this one rolling again. I have a beginning, I have an end that I love, I just...have to figure out what happens in between and I haven’t had a lot of time to focus on it. If I decide that I just can’t make it work as a full length story, I promise you will get what I’ve already got. If worst comes to worst, I can write about a paragraph to connect the end and the beginning and you’ll just miss out on the long distance stuff. 

I’ll Never Not Know You - I still have some things that people requested that I haven’t done yet, and they’re still on the list, but again these will be backburnered a bit while I focus on Beautiful Dreams, and to be honest, I think it will be a good thing. I won’t say I’m burned out on first meetings, I don’t think it’s that extreme, but these were originally meant to be fun and short and they’ve started turning into these huge monsters, which isn’t a bad thing necessarily because I like the pieces I’ve done, but they’re work, when they were meant to be just quick, fun little pieces to go between the longer stories. 

Other Stuff - I still have a list of ideas for Across All Realms, I’m still planning on a part 2 (and possibly 3) for Man’s Best Fang, I’ve got five or six other things in various stages of writing, some of them AU’s that I’m really excited about (Although WHY I keep writing AUs involving stuff that I know NOTHING ABOUT is really beyond me, but then again if I stuck to what I know that would be like...knitting. It would be a knitting AU. Knitting and dogs.) As we get closer to the end of Beautiful Dreams you might start seeing some of this stuff in WIP Wednesdays or SSS as I start looking ahead.

A quick note on WIP Wed/SSS - I just want to thank everybody who likes or reblogs those WIP Wed and SSS posts and/or tells me that you’re excited for a particular thing, that’s actually both super encouraging and really helpful because it helps me prioritize, and while I absolutely try to write what I like and the things that are important to me, your excitement gets me excited. 

So thanks for sticking around and reading through all this mess! I hope that gives any of you who might want to know a rough picture of the plan going forward. 

[duhragonball]

Positive

I’m gonna record some stuff for posterity, since I’ve been feeling kind of down and I want to focus on some things that have gone right lately.

First, I managed to win a Crazyhouse chess match against my hated rival, Lichess.org AI level 6.  I started trying to get serious about getting good at chess a few years ago, which eventually led me to lichess.org, which offers some variant games like Crazyhouse, where you can use captured pieces for your own.   The AI has eight levels and I decided to just start at 1 and work my way up, but around... late 2018?  I got to level 6 and it’s been kicking my ass ever since.    I think my record is like 5-3742.  

Friday night, I actually won, which is a big deal in itself, but more astonishingly, I beat it in 17 moves.  Here they are below.

1. d4 d5 2. Nf3 { D02 Queen's Pawn Game: Zukertort Variation } Bf5 3. e4 dxe4 4. Ne5 Nd7 5. Bb5 c6 6. Bxc6 bxc6 7. P@b7 Rb8 8. Nxc6 P@f3 9. gxf3 B@g2 10. Rg1 exf3 11. Nxd8 P@e2 12. Qd2 g6 13. P@c7 Bg7 14. c8=Q Rxc8 15. bxc8=Q Ne5 16. Q@a4+ P@d7 17. Nc6# { White wins by checkmate. } 1-0

I tend to write off my wins as flukes--sooner or later the AI has to make a mistake--but usually Level 6 beats me in less than 20 moves.    It had gotten to the point where I was more worried about surviving to move 21 than even hoping to win.    Full disclosure: I use the takeback function to undo serious blunders, so it’s not like I pulled this upset off in one go.    Still, I managed to put this together.  

I think this is mainly because I started reading Chess for Dummies again and there’s a part where it says that you really shouldn’t start out by moving the same piece over and over.    Instead, you should more a different piece each turn.    That forces you to think a little harder about each turn, and you won’t get stuck in a situation where you waste moves on retreats.    I’ve been making that mistake a lot lately, having like a knight or a queen running around the board, trying to avoid getting captured, and all that accomplishes is to let the AI develop their side of the board, until I run out of places to run.  

So I took this advice to heart and it paid off in a big way.   I’m sure it won’t go quite as well next time, but I’m wondering if this one mistake was holding me back this whole time.   Either way, I’m just pleased that I read something in a book and managed to apply it successfully to the thing I was trying to learn.   I can see a light at the end of the AI Level 6 tunnel.

Second, I made my first omelet last night.    I bought eggs, and thought, you know what, let’s try to make an omelet.    It’s not even that hard, it’s just that I never got serious about it.    Every time I scramble eggs I think about how easy it would be to just... not scramble them and fold it over, but I never could figure out when to do that, and I’d just break down and scramble them, because I know how to do that.   So last night I decided to look it up and make sure I knew what to do.    All I had to put in them was some Swiss cheese, but it turned out great.    Today I went to the store and got diced ham and chopped onions and shredded cheese, and I probably put too much in, but it was excellent.   

My eventual goal here is to get proficient enough to attempt the recipe printed in Way of the House Husband v.3, because it looks fancy but how hard could it be?  

Looking at this page again, I guess what I really need to do is work on steps 1-3, which involve cooking the filling first.    Otherwise, I’m pretty close already.

Third, Dangerous Tekkers retained the IWGP Heavyweight Tag Team Championships yesterday.   

Look at these distinguished gentlemen, and their beautiful IWGP championship belts.  Also, a bowl of Zima, because they’re a sponsor.   

I really thought they were in trouble, but they managed to steal a win, and that’s what matters.   Big night for Suzuki-gun in general, but I’m most proud of Taichi and Zack Sabre Junior for extending their glorious reign.    Nothing but respect for my champions.  Go back to the end of the line, Golden Ace.   Speaking of Golden Aces...

Fourth, I’ve updated my damn weinerfic yesterday.    I’ll crosspost to Tumblr eventually, but my goal was to get stuff on AO3 this month, and I figured crossposting would slow me down.    So if you read my fanfic and you made it this far down the list, Luffa’s updated to Chapter 126.

I’ve talked about this before, but I got real bad about writing scenes without assembling them into discrete chapters, which has left me with a large backlog of material that I needed to edit and post before I could move on.    My goal for 2020 was to clear that backlog completely.    I thought the wind was at my back when I got Chapters 119-134 assembled, but editing and formatting has been a real slog this month.    Now that 126 is live, I think I’ve gotten through the worst of it, but we’ll see.   

To be honest, this whole process hasn’t been that bad.   I’m well on my way to the goal I set for the year.    It just seems to feel a lot tougher than it should.   I had lofty dreams of tackling some other projects this year, but I just don’t have the motivation, and I need to put whatever I do have into this one thing. 

And that’s the reason I wanted to write this post.   I feel like a jerk because things aren’t going as smoothly as I want them to, but the progress is still being made.   I keep looking forward, and despairing at how much further I have to go, but I need to glance backward once in a while, and appreciate how night and straight my wake is.  

I get frustrated a lot.    When I first started writing this thing, I was self-conscious about the early chapters because the real meat wouldn’t be until later, and I didn’t think the early stuff would impress anyone as standalone material.   Now I worry that it’s too damn big, and people will be turned off by the sheer size, and never get far enough in to see what I’m doing in the late game.    Or they will read that far in, only to find that I jumped the shark at some point.    I gotta get out of that mindset.    It’s bullshit and I know it’s bullshit, and I know that I know it’s bullshit, but it still pops up in my head sometimes.    The goal is to get the entire story finished.   Whether or not it gets popular is a sideshow.    I can promote the fic when I turn 50 and I’ve got nothing better to do.  This time is for writing and editing and publishing.   And right now, I’m getting it done.    That’s what’s important.   

Also, making that gangster omelet.   One step at a time.

[letswritefanfiction]

Lost in Halloweenia! Ch1

Crosspost from ffnet and AO3.

Summary: It's Halloween! Ash and the gang are living it up trick or treating when they stumble upon a strange house with some strange artifacts. What mysteries do they hold and…wait, who are those three lurking behind them?

Word Count: 2,997/27,343

Setting: Set in between Hocus Pokémon and Here's Lookin' At You, Elekid.

A/N: Hello! This is a story I wrote back in 2016 and, since it’s spooky month yet again, I thought it was time to bring it back, since it’s one of my faves! This story is meant to by in the style of the Pokémon anime, plus Scooby Doo vibes. It’s all just very fun.

No ships!

Next chapter here

Chapter 1: Trick or Treat

Having just received his last Gym Badge from the Blackthorn Gym, Ash and his friends are hard at work as ever in preparing for the Silver Conference…

“Oh boy, a king size candy bar!”

Or are they?

Ash brought the plastic-wrapped log of chocolate up to his nose and inhaled loudly, salivating even though he couldn’t smell anything beyond the crisp October air burning his nostrils. After savoring the moment for all of two seconds, he ripped open the chocolate bar and bit off a mouthful, strands of caramel lacing his teeth and the candy together, looking like strands from the play spider webs decorating the houses of the neighborhood. When he licked it all away, he offered a bite to Pikachu, who was perched as a Golbat on his shoulder, wings and all.

“Ash, you’re supposed to be saving your candy, not eating it all tonight,” Misty stated, dropping her own piece into her orange jack-o-lantern bag hanging from the crook of her arm as she held Togepi to her chest. Togepi was thrilled by all of the sights and was content to do nothing but trill away at all of the lights and spooky decorations.

“Who says?” Ash grunted through the sticky sweetness.

“I bet your mother would,” Brock said. “And please tell me that you’re not still wearing your fake teeth.”

After swallowing, Ash felt around his teeth with his tongue to discover that he was, indeed, still wearing the false teeth that were the finishing touch on his vampire outfit. Except now, instead of glowing a light green in the dark, it was certain they were stained brown with milk chocolate and caramel goodness. Pikachu barred his teeth to reveal much the same on his own fake incisors.

“Oops.”

Misty sighed, shaking her head. “I knew he wouldn’t be able to handle accessories.”

“Hey, at least I was smart enough to wear a costume that I wouldn’t freeze to death in!”

Misty looked down at her costume, mostly just to hide her flushing face behind her bangs. She was wearing the Goldeen outfit that she had worn ages ago in that crazy magician act. “So what? I already owned it, so I figured I might as well wear it! Besides, Brock isn’t any better.”

Brock had decided to dress like Bruno of the Kanto—and Johto, since that’s where they were—Elite Four leaving him entirely shirtless. He was hoping that it would gain him points with the ladies. Unfortunately, most of the ladies they had seen so far were half his age. Nevertheless, he didn’t want to be pulled into the argument, so he suggested, “Hey, why don’t we just check out the next house?”

Misty harrumphed. “Yeah, Brock. Let’s go.”

Ash lingered behind for only a second. “Thinks she can boss me around like that,” he grumbled. “Why shouldn’t we be able to eat our candy on Halloween?”

Pikachu chattered his agreement before pointing in the direction Misty and Brock were headed.

“Oh, you’re right! We gotta beat them to the next house!”

Moments after Ash ran to catch up to Misty and Brock, there was a rustling in the boxwood hedges lining the sidewalk.

Jessie popped her head out from a bush, making certain that she was holding two branches on either side of her face. She spied the twerp running off after the other two twerps with Pikachu right there on his shoulder, as usual. “Hmm, right on schedule.”

“On schedule fo’ what?” Meowth burst out of the next bush, some leaves taped to his whiskers. “We don’t have a plan!”

“Maybe we would if it weren’t Halloween!” James interjected, poking his head out of a third bush, pausing to spit out a few leaves. “But there are people everywhere! How are we supposed to pull off any kind of a heist?”

“Well…” Meowth began slyly, turning slowly to James as a smile spread across his face, “we could pull off a candy heist if we did a little less trickin’ and a little more treatin’!”

“Ooh, now that’s a good plan, Meowth!”

Jessie whipped her hair around and managed to smack both James and Meowth across the face, leaving them both dazed. “You numskulls! We’re not out to get candy like all of these snot-nosed little kids! We’re out to catch Pikachu!”

“But Jess,” James whined, “think of how long it’s been since we’ve had that much food! Much less good tasting food.”

There was the sound of water dripping into the bushes as James and Meowth began to drool. Jessie clenched her fist until it shook, ready to let them have it again before she heard her stomach rumble. Both boys turned to her with raised eyebrows and Jessie blushed, holding her stomach in a gloved hand.

From out of the bushes, she produced three pillowcases and announced, “Well, I guess it can’t hurt to think about food every once in a while! We can always nab Pikachu once those twerps have had their fill and all we have to do is roll Pikachu off the twerp’s shoulder and right into the boss’s office.”

With matching grins, each grabbed a bag and then made off for the closest house, so close to mountains of candy they could taste it.

“Wow, this house would be spooky even if it weren’t Halloween.”

Ash and Misty nodded along to Brock’s words as they all stood at the end of the street before a huge house that seemed to creak as a strong wind blew the autumn leaves and loose candy wrappers across the lawn.

It was like something out of a storybook. It was dark purple with a thatched black roof, which was made up of all odd angles, coming to a zenith at a pointed tower standing in the middle with a single window. Jutting in front of the window were bars of sharp iron, twisted as if by a giant’s strong grasp.

“Well, the porch light is on,” Ash pointed out. “That must mean that they’re accepting trick-or-treaters.”

Ash began to make for the front deck before Brock and Misty pulled him back. Even Pikachu pulled on his hair a little.

“Hey, what’s the big idea?”

“M-Maybe we should just skip it and head to the next house,” Misty suggested, eyeing the spooky structure warily.

“Why would we do that? Let’s just knock on the door.”

Ash stepped confidently forward, ignoring a whine from the back of Pikachu’s throat as the deck groaned at their combined weight. There was no doorbell, so Ash raised his fist to knock on the door when, without so much as a tap, it opened all on its own.

“Huh, look at that.”

Brock and Misty had reluctantly followed Ash, but now the both of them were slowly creeping backwards. Brock cleared his throat before saying, “Okay, now we should go, Ash.”

“No, wait, look at that!” Ash was pointing just inside the doorway, where there was a small table holding a huge bowl of candy and a silver candelabra. Just above the bowl was a sign that said, take one. “Look, they want us to go in!”

Ash pushed the door open all the way, revealing that the whole room was lit by nothing but the three-pronged candelabra, flickering as the wind from outside tickled the stale air inside the house.

Opening the door revealed a parlor, completely decked out with Halloween decorations. There was a bit of old furniture here and there, but covering every open space were pumpkins, skeletons of humans as well as various Pokémon, witch’s hats, brooms, and gnarled branches with bat-like Pokémon hanging from them. But they weren’t tacky items snatched from the bargain bin of a local drugstore; everything was so well-made that they looked almost real, down to the porous bones of the skeletons and peeling bark of the branches.

After Ash stepped inside, Brock and Misty followed to take their pick from the massive collection of candy. Misty gave a little shriek when she saw an enormous Ariados doll in the corner, somehow suspended from the ceiling. It was shrouded by the dark, but the enamel mandibles almost seemed to glow with poisonous saliva in the candlelight.

She put a hand up to her face, turning away from it. It wasn’t real, it only looked real. So it should only bother her if she looked on it. Nevertheless, the hairs on her arms were standing up on end and, for once that night, it wasn’t from the October chill.

They all turned their attention back to the most pleasant sight of the candy dish. Even though it was pretty late in the night, the bowl looked virtually untouched. Apparently most trick-or-treaters thought even candy wasn’t worth trying the old, creepy house.

But boy, were they missing out! There had to be every type of candy in that bowl. Chocolate, caramels, hard candies, lollipops, butterscotch, even truffles and small baked goods—more than Ash had even thought to imagine.

“You know, I bet we can take more than one,” Ash said, reaching into the tantalizing bowl. “I don’t think anybody would be upset by that.”

“Ash, it says to just take one.”

Misty’s words sounded firm, but one look over at her, with her face inches from the candy bowl, showed that she didn’t much believe what she was saying. She wanted the treats nearly as much as Ash did.

Both Togepi and Pikachu, who had wiggled their way onto the table, were also looking over the lip of the candy bowl, trying to make the best choice.

“One each,” Brock stated. Both Ash and Misty sighed, resigning themselves to follow the rules before Brock spoke up again, this time with a big grin. “Though that doesn’t mean we can’t each choose one for each of our Pokémon too!”

Ash and Misty cheered as they finally dug into the bowl, counting off candy for each of their Pokémon as Brock wedged himself into the mix as well.

“Do you think all thirty of my Tauros count?”

“Only if all of my Gym Pokémon count!”

“Those aren’t yours; they’re your sisters’!”

“No, they belong to the Gym! And I’m better with them anyway!”

“Are not.”

“Am too!”

“Are not!”

“Am too!”

“Are—”

“Enough out of both of you!”

Brock unwrapped two pieces of caramel and stuck one into Ash’s, then Misty’s mouth to quiet them. He nodded at his handiwork as both of them struggled to chew.

“That’s probably enough candy for the both of you.”

Then Misty made a gurgling shriek through the caramel as she began looking about wildly.

“What?”

“Pobeebee ih aw!”

Brock cocked his head. “What?”

Pikachu reached and patted Brock. “Pipipi!”

Ash caught on at that point, joining in with Misty’s mumbling. Brock, however, still had no reaction, so Pikachu was forced to concentrate, spiking the fur on his head and rounding his body until he looked like an egg.

“Oh, Togepi!”

Misty finally managed to chew the caramel down to a workable level and shouted, “We have to find Togepi! Anyone see where it went?”

Everyone collectively shook their heads. Then, they heard a light trill echo throughout the whole house. They cast about, uncertain of the direction the sound came from. Pikachu’s ears twitched for a second, and then he took off, scampering out of the room.

“Hey, Pikachu!”

Ash ran after Pikachu, with Brock and Misty not too far behind him. There was no electric lighting to speak of in the house, but every hallway and room was lined with sconce-like lanterns, fire blazing in each of them; there was just enough light to see a few feet in any direction, but no more.

After rounding just a few corners, they stopped in their tracks, finding themselves completely lost, with no trace of Togepi or Pikachu. There wasn’t so much as the light thump of a footstep. Nothing but dull creaks from the house, coming from every direction so that it seemed like the house was trying to move or maybe even say something.

“I think we should head back to the front of the house,” Brock suggested. “Just wait for Pikachu and Togepi there.”

“No, we have to find Togepi!” Misty was insistent, her jaw clenched and her gaze firm, but the wavers in her voice belied her strong façade.

“Pikachu will find Togepi, Misty. And we’ll be easier to find if we just stay put.”

Misty looked to Ash, who nodded at her. “Misty’s right, Brock. I wanna find Pikachu.”

Brock could only shrug. “Suit yourself. But let’s retrace our steps at least to find a better path, okay?”

“Fine.”

“Alright.”

It only took a few steps for them to realize they had no idea where the front of the house was. They turned around a few times, poking their head past corners, into hallways, looking for any sign of familiarity.

Somehow, the whole house was designed the way the parlor had been. In every corner were pieces of antique-looking Halloween paraphernalia, most dusty with time, like they hadn’t just been set out in the past few weeks for the holiday. It seemed as though it was always Halloween in this house.

Ash stepped over the black statue of a Purrloin wearing a witch’s hat, trying the last exit from the room for any hint as to where they had come from.

“No luck. That hallway just has some huge ghosts that I don’t remember seeing.”

“So, we’re lost?”

Misty looked at Ash with a perfect blend of irritation and fear while he sweat-dropped and backed away slowly, nearly tripping over the Purrloin.

“Not lost,” Brock stated, trying to diffuse the situation—or rather, avoid any situation that got Misty too mad. “We just don’t know where we are or how to get back to where we were.”

A vein began to throb on Misty’s forehead as she turned to Brock. “Well, what is that if not lo—”

“Pika! Pika!”

The sound echoed all throughout the house until the two calls became many, sounding like there were dozens of Pikachu hiding in the very woodwork of the house. It sounded like it could have come from anywhere. Ash, Brock, and Misty cast about in all directions, to little avail.

“Priii!”

That sound too began to echo, morphing until it was a twisted distortion of Togepi’s cute call.

“I think it’s coming from upstairs!” Ash finally declared. “Which hallway had the stairs?”

“This one!” Misty shouted, pushing in front of them and making for a set of wooden stairs, spiraling up with an iron rail, lined with cross-shaped spikes.

“Careful!” Brock put a fingertip to one of the spikes and yanked it away quickly. “These are sharp!”

“Pikachu! Where are you?”

“Togepi! Please come out here!”

Ash and Misty tumbled onto the landing at the top of the stairs and listened as more calls came from their Pokémon, bouncing off every which way, but stronger than they had been down below.

“This way!”

“You better not be getting us lost again, Ash Ketchum!”

“No, they’re definitely this way!”

“Guys, wait up!”

The trio eventually stumbled into a large, cluttered room, furnished like an attic, with no candles to light the way. There were, however, windows washing the room with the moon’s pallid glow.

“Pikachu?”

“Pikapi!”

Ash nearly ran into a tall suit of armor as he rounded a stack of items, opening the large room up even further. There, bathed in a deep red glow, were Pikachu and Togepi, eyeing a strange object.

“What is that?” Misty asked with a gasp.

The red glow seemed to be emanating from the object, which was resting in a basket on top of a treasure chest, just out of Pikachu and Togepi’s reaches. Not for lack of trying, though, as Togepi kept stretching its arms out, trying to touch it.

“It looks like an egg,” Brock observed. “Like a dragon egg, or something.”

“Oh, that’s so cool!”

Ash rushed forward to look at it and soon enough, the whole gang was taken in by its almost supernatural glow.

Pikachu took it upon himself to take Togepi in his arms, raising it over his head so it could get a closer look at the object. Togepi trilled in delight, leaning in to reach it.

“Don’t touch it, Togepi,” Misty chastised. “It’s not yours.”

Togepi frowned for a second, whimpering a little. Then it jumped out of Pikachu’s grasp, arms outstretched as if to give the egg a hug. Togepi landed in the basket, which was lined with straw and wheat in a neat nest, and tried to hug the egg, but its stubby arms kept it at a distance.

“Oh, Togepi.”

Misty reached for Togepi, but before she could grab it back into her loving arms, the egg began to glow brightly, blinding everyone for a moment as their eyes adjusted. After a few burning blinks, everyone turned back to see Togepi being sucked into the egg.

Everyone gasped in shock. Pikachu was the first to regain his wits, and he leapt up, grabbing for Togepi, only to begin being sucked into the egg too.

“Oh no, you don’t!”

Ash grabbed for Pikachu, Misty grabbed for Ash, and Brock grabbed for Misty, each disappearing faster and faster as the glow became stronger, before fragmenting from a blood red into individual beams of orange and black like a Halloween sunburst.

Then, they were gone, and the room was once again dark and silent, save for the whistling of the wind outside, and the gentle groans of the old, dark house.

On Halloween night, Ash and friends had expected lots of treats but this is one trick they hadn’t expected! Where have they gone and how will they get out of this one? Stay tuned for next time!

[honekitteh]

Fic: Countdown - Chapter 6

Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Rating: M Genre: Angst, H/C, Romance, Canon-Typical Violence, Humor,  Canon-typical levels of poor decision-making Synopsis: A distress call leads the Jedi Battlemaster to Ziost, but time is running out.  Follows the storyline of The Rise of the Emperor and inserts missing scenes.   Warnings: See Chapter 1

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |  Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Crossposted to AO3

“This is a door?”

Kira nodded to me as I walked towards the circle window like fixture on the left side of the entrance hall of the People’s Tower.  I tried to keep my focus on the entryway to the next level of the building as opposed to the corpses now laying at our feet.  The amount of bodies that were being thrown towards me to try to prevent us from our path, with little more purpose than for just simple mayhem and death, was overwhelming.  There were very few meditation techniques that could fully block out the scent of the dead at this point, but I needed to press on.  The fate of this world felt like it was slipping out of my grasp and it felt like it was up to me.

Again.

I couldn’t find the way to open the door easily, looking around for the controls.  I reached out with my senses.  “Locked.”

“Typical Imperials,” Kira huffed, “So rude to guests.”

I frowned as tried a few things with the Force.  “I’m not sure I can bust it myself.”

My friend took a step up and closed her eyes.  Then she shook her head.  “I doubt even the two of us could do it alone, even if one of us was on the other side. Unless Lana is miraculously right there, we’re on our own.  We need something else.”

I frowned.  Not really willing to give up quite yet, I tested the door again with my senses.

“Jyana, I think we need something with a bit more explosive power.”

I sighed heavily. “Fine.  What do you have in mind?”

Kira scanned the entrance hall.  There was a large holographic map of Ziost on display on the middle console.  She took a scan beyond it.  “There’s something over there, but I think we’ll have to fight our way there.”

“Sounds about normal,” I sighed.

We worked our way over there quickly, myself leaping into battle with a Sith Lord.  I only felt slightly bad about engaging him in battle, cause I was fairly sure he’d want to thwart whatever we were planning on his own volition.  I couldn’t tell how long he’d been under Vitiate’s puppetry, but it didn’t matter now. A poor imperial medic was unfortunately in the crossfire, which was something that I did feel terrible about. But our situation did not give us a lot of time to reflect or regret.  We had to keep moving.

When the enemies had fallen, as they refused to stop until they were ended, I noticed the thing Kira thought she had seen.  I picked up the rocket launcher and looked at it with great suspicion.

“That looks promising,” Kira said.

“This might be overkill,” I stated looking at it and checking to make certain it was loaded.

“Pft,” Kira waved that off, “No such thing as overkill.”

“Let’s move.”  I put the rocket launcher over my shoulder, loosely letting the strap on it secure it there.  I looked back towards the door and frowned.  “Did you invite more friends to the party?” I asked motioning towards the four imperial commandos that were now between us and the door.  

“I need to hire a new party planner.”

I was getting so tired of fighting, but I tossed my lightsabers to draw the commandos’ attention. I wasn’t sure I was quite comfortable opening with my typical leap into the fray.  Adding the rocket launcher to my back would wreck the physics of the leap or at least set it off that I wasn’t sure I had the right read on it. I already had a habit of overexerting and I really could not afford to do it at this stage.  I was already exhausted.  I knew the final battle was soon, but I could not completely estimate how much longer I had to go.  I couldn’t go overboard now, not at this stage.  

Kira pushed the last of the four back as he fell.  She frowned looking down at them.  A glance up at me showed me she was feeling what I was.  Overwhelming sorrow.  Both of us knew what it was like to be out of our own control.  Both of us had broken free, but it did not pass without some level of scars.  Such was our life.

We got to the door and I unholstered the rocket launcher.  This wasn’t my first rodeo.  I checked all the mechanisms, made certain the ammo was set just right.

“Maybe we should knock first?” Kira asked.

“This is me knocking,” I said and fired.

The explosion shock the building and threw both of us back.  Startled at the reaction I dropped the rocket launcher and used the Force to cushion our fall.

“That’s what I’m talking about!”

I stared at Kira as I picked myself up off the floor.

“I gotta get me one of those!” she said as she was pointing at the rocket launcher.

“Later.  We don’t have any way to reload it and we’ve got to keep moving.”

“No fun.”

I sighed and rolled my eyes and jumped through the door.

It felt like Vitiate had an endless supply of bodies to pile up between us and our destination.  It also took a great deal of concentration to focus on jumping up along the elevator shaft to the next level of the building.  The screams of the dying, the terror, the fear, all the feelings of deep buried rage kept trying to overwhelm my senses.  

“Watch out!” Kira shouted as turrets opened fire on us after we gained our footing on the floor.  

A flick of the lightsabers sadly was not all it took, but we did make fairly quick work of them.

My wrist computer blinked at me, telling me that I had an incoming call.  I flicked it on as we were besieged by another group of soldiers.

Lana’s voice came through the call saying, “Before we go ahead with this... you and I should talk—in person.  I’ll see you shortly.”

I frowned then looked down at the coordinates now showing on the small data viewer after the comm cut off.

“This way.”

I looked at the forcefield over the door to the room that Lana had indicated and let out a heavy sigh. Kira motioned there were electrical panels on the outside of each door.  Nodding we both threw a wave of the Force at the panels, causing them to explode.  This knocked the forcefield down.

There were many civilian employees within the room.  I tried to raise my hands in a defensive pose.  “I don’t want to hurt any of you...” I said before they started to lunge at Kira and I, shooting and even some just trying to go at us hand to hand. I sighed, looking at each of their eyes as they fell, fighting to their last with no control of their own bodies. The silver eyes, showing their actions belonged to him.

In the corner of my eye, a green and black cloak flicked by, moving towards the console in the back of the room.  Kira and I sheathed our sabers and moved to join Lana.  

“You’ve made it,” the Sith Lord stated without looking up as she pushed on the controls, “Good.  Time is short—so is reliable assistance.”  She fiddled with the holo communication controls on the console and continued talking without really looking back at me. “I have Agent Kovach assembling a suppression team out of whatever droids he can find, so I approached another agent to assist us.”

Theron Shan appeared on the holo and he looked around between us and did what could only be described as striking a pose.  He rested his hand on his hip with ease and comfort that belied the exhaustion that was evident in his eyes, even from within a holo communication.  I raised my eyebrows and gave a sigh.  I partially wondered if he was trying to play it cool with Lana.  Then again, this is Theron.  There were so many layers behind the surface.  I am not entirely sure how many I’d seen behind, but there was a selfish part of me that would like to think that I was one of the few that had.

Of course, now was not the time to think about those kinds of things.  Lana addressed him quickly, “Are you in position?”

“Yeah, but this setup isn’t anything like what you described.”

“So what you’re saying is you can’t figure it out.”

“Don’t get all…” he sighed and put his hands in front of him, “I’ll figure it out.”

“We’re about to begin, so that would be nice.”

“He has Teeseven with him, he’ll be fine,” I quickly cut in.

Theron gave me a grateful nod and cut out the communication.

As soon as his image flickered off, I asked, “What exactly are we about to begin, Lana?”

“You’re going to make Vitiate angry.  So angry that he’ll place all his attention on killing you.”  She punched in some controls on the console and then turned to look at me.  If I didn’t know better, she had a very Jedi way of masking her emotions, but that could be partially from how she had to keep her mind focused on defense, lest the incorporeal former Emperor decide to take her body for a ride.  She continued on, “When the time comes, you’ll lead him to an electrostatic weapon stored there, in the heart of New Adasta.  It’s meant to be a last resort against major civil uprisings, but Theron’s modifying it to be non-lethal.  With the reduced charge, its radius of impact will diminish.”

I raised an eyebrow and shared a glance with Kira before looking back to Lana.  “You have a weapon designed with the sole purpose of killing your own people?”

Lana waved it off as if it was a non-issue.  “It’s not as if we install one in every metropolis.  We nearly lost New Adasta to unrest once before.”

“Well in that case...”

I could see her eye slightly twitch, but she ignored my snide remark.  “Shall we get started?” she asked and pointed towards the holo comm device.

Suppose it was time for my performance art masterpiece of a monologue.  I really hate monologuing.  But certain people seemed to love it.  Maybe it will do the trick.  

I took a deep breath and nodded to Lana and she opened the comm.  “Vitate!  I am the Battlemaster of the Jedi Order.  I’ve struck you down once already.  Today, I’m finishing the job.  Today, you will face justice.”

Lana cut off the communication and glanced over at me, her expression unreadable except for very obvious exhaustion.  

“I think that did it?” I questioned, pondering over if I should have monologued longer, or been harsher, and I almost got caught in my train of thought until Lana cut me off.

“I have to go now. There’s much to be done.”  She sighed heavily, “Too much.  I shouldn’t have come here, truth be told.”

I reached out and took hold of her shoulder.  A year or so ago, she might have flinched at the contact, but not today.  “Be strong, Lana.  Stay focused.  You’ll be fine.”

She offered me a tired smile.  “Thank you. We’ll see if you’re right.”

I looked behind me after I pressed the button to call the elevator to the top floor.  Master Onok and Master Landai were both unconscious, but free. I could still hear their voices demanding for me to kill them, even though they weren’t really their own voices.  I electrocuted them.  They would make it.  Doc and Lord Scourge were on their way to retrieve them and get them off world as soon as they could.  I needed to focus though.  

As I stepped in the elevator and punched the controls to take us up, I wondered if Lana’s plan would work.  Kira gave me a poke.  I gave her a tired smile.  She was right.  There was a time and place to dwell on what has happened since I stepped foot on this planet, and now was not one of them.

We walked onto the platform to find Theron and T7 working on opposite sides of the entryway.

“That’s it, Teeseven,” he called out to the droid then looked up from his work to see us.  He gave a quick nod and what I thought was a slight smirk to me and continued, “Got it set up for as big a non-lethal burst as we can manage.”  He looked over to T7 as the droid unplugged himself from the wall socket.  “Thanks buddy,” he said to the droid then turned back to Kira and I.  “Should be enough to zap anyone in range into a nice, long, involuntary nap.”

I looked up at the large device that was on the ceiling over the open air platform.  Frowning I muttered lowly, “Should be?”

Theron shrugged. “Hard to come up with a one-size fits all solution.  Lot of guesswork involved.  Wish there was a way Teeseven and I could have done a test run before...”

As his vocalized thought trailed off, I looked back towards the entry point I had just come through. I didn’t sense anything quite yet, but I could feel it wouldn’t be too long.  

“They’ve got to be closing in,” Kira stated aloud, echoing my own thoughts.

“Then come on,” he said, waving me over to where he had a device waiting for us, “We need to be shielded.”  I followed him, still studying my surroundings.  He straightened up after ensuring the shield was properly set and looked to me.  “Okay. We should wait until they’re good and close.”  

I closed my eyes briefly, allowing my senses to reach out to get a good feel for how much time we had. It wasn’t much.  I moved slightly closer to Theron and said softly, “I wasn’t sure when I’d run into you again.  Not the greatest circumstances, but still.”  I very nearly reached to him but halted myself with a small glance behind me.  It wasn’t Kira though that I sensed when I could feel we weren’t alone.

He offered a weak but knowing smile.  “Maybe next time the lives of an entire world won’t be in danger – but, yeah, feeling’s mutual.”

I felt my heart flip flop a bit at his smile and met his with my own.  Soon though, I could feel them.  His amber eyes shifted from mine to behind me.  Closing my eyes for a brief moment, I took a deep breath, then reopened them to follow his gaze.  Kira had already drawn her dual-saber, its green light reflecting against the metallic floor.

Theron pulled out his data pad and started tapping. “Okay, here comes the puppet brigade.  Fingers crossed…”

It was a fairly sizable group, Imperials, Republic troops, and even some Jedi.  I silently cursed the Chancellor and added it to the growing list of matters I will add to a report, should I bother to file one.  At this particular moment, the choice words I had planning were significantly less Jedi than they had been the beginning of this entire fiasco.  The horde moved closer and Theron triggered the device.

That Theron even had to modify it to be non-lethal was not lost on me.  As I saw the soldiers all be stunned and fall to the ground, I could not help but wonder what the result would have been had that modification not been made.  The Empire, putting a weapon in one of its capital cities with the capability to kill a vast amount of their own citizens?  If they had one of these in New Adasta, they could have it on Kass City, or in a number of other cities.  But why?  Because of riots?  Gee, I wonder why anyone would riot against a ruling body that had no regard for their lives.

My eyes glanced over to a Republic soldier that had collapsed.  Were we even better?  The Republic should be better than this.  Theron followed my eyes and let the shield dome collapse.  He approached the soldier and knelt.  “This one was closet, took the biggest hit.”  He reached for his neck, checking his pulse as I walked up beside him.  I looked out towards the door and across the landscape of unconscious bodies.  “Still alive,” Theron confirmed, relief in his voice, “We did it!  Let’s just hope we got all of them.”

“Let’s hope,” I murmured, still scanning the surroundings.  Something still felt off.  This moment was far from over, I could feel it.

“We should call Lana now, see if she has a plan for what’s next.”

The bodies began to float in the air.  “I have a better idea,” a booming male imperial voice spoke through the woman sauntering onto the platform.  With a small flick of a hand motion, the bodies crashed back away from her, clearing a path.  Her eyes yellow and wild, she smirked as she drew her lightsaber.

“Master Surro.” Theron’s entire stance sunk and he moved to stand between me and the unconscious puppet army and the approaching Jedi Master.  “No...” I lightly reached an arm to his shoulder, trying to pull him back and shift him behind me, but he stood his ground.

“Watching you believe you had a chance; it’s amused me.”   Master Surro raised her hand sluggishly as if it were pulled by string, the Force lifting a dazed Imperial lieutenant into a sitting position. “Now this whole charade is pathetic.”

I shifted my own position, trying to assess the situation and moved in front of Theron.  Not soon enough, as Master Surro summarily executed the dazed man she’d just set up.  The range of emotions in the man beside me went from shock, to horror, to anger. It took a great deal of my own willpower and Force meditation to not absorb Theron’s pain and have it fuel me and complement the dread that I felt; the very dread I’ve been feeling rising since the moment I’d received his distress holo.

Master Surro’s lips turned in a cruel sneer.  “Now, how do you wish to die?  In combat or on your knees?”

Lana raced from within the building, lightsaber drawn and poised to attack.

“Go away, little Sith.” Master Surro easily shoved the approaching Sith Lord with a shove.  Theron moved in front of me again and drew his weapon but was immediately lifted in the air.  He gave me a wincing glance before he was unceremoniously thrown against the wall and crashed the ground.  I looked between Lana and Theron and took the last reserves of my energy to take a deep breath.  

Glancing back to Master Surro, I furrowed my brow and drew both my shoto.  The Emperor controlled puppet smirked.  “This has nothing to do with your friends.  This is you and I.”

Igniting my sabers, I leaped into the air.

The original clash was brief, a flurry of blades.  Kira flanked our opponent, trying to keep her busy.  There was no way that she was going to let me fight alone, even if I sensed that was what Master Surro desired.  We just had to stay vigiliant.

If I could keep my eyes from glancing over at Theron long enough to stay focused.

Of course Surro, no… not Surro, Vitiate… he figured out my distraction and pressed the attack on me, completely ignoring Kira who was trying to sneak attack from behind.  I tried to block a downward strike with both my shoto but I lost track of my direction and Surro took the opportunity to kick me and Force push me at that moment.  The push knocked me near complete off the edge and drop my shoto completely.  I reached out quickly and barely grabbed hold of the edge.

I took this time to reflect on my life choices.  Trying my hardest to keep as many people alive as possible, even the possessed jedi that Vitiate used to try to taunt me.  Kill them, he had said, I won’t mind—and neither will your dear ally.

I sighed.  I tried so hard to compartmentalize my feelings.  It wasn’t working.  I took a deep breath.  Theron’s been through worse, he’ll be fine.  They’ll all be fine.

I heard a squeak as I sensed Kira get knocked out, not far from where Lana was.  Closing my eyes, I found my sabers and lept into the air.

I landed on the other side of Master Surro, flipping overhead her before she’d noticed I’d gotten there it seemed.  She gave me a sneer.  “Why won’t you die, little girl?”

“No matter how powerful you are, I’ll never fall to you.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Confident—to the end.”

My lightsabers returned to my hands, I ignited them and pressed the attack.  I did not relent, I would not back down, and he had to know that.

It took some time until Master Surro finally collapsed at my feet.  I took a deep breath and studied her, not wanting to take any chances. When she looked back up, her eyes were their natural color.

[serenlyss]

For the Sake of a Smile Chapter 6

Rating: G Relationships: terumob, teru&tome Chapter Summary:  "Feeding people is a way of loving them, in the same way that feeding ourselves is a way of honoring our own creativeness and fragility." — Shauna Niequist Crossposted to AO3: Chapter 6

Chapter 5 // Chapter 7

---

“I wonder how he got into the special class in the first place.”

Teru glances over his shoulder from where he’s sitting at his desk, chatting idly with Shigeo before the start of class. He’d been listening to a story about someone from his after-school club, but it isn’t hard to place the voices and, by extension, to determine what and who they’re talking about.

Shigeo’s voice trails off, ending on a note of curiosity. “Is something wrong?” he asks, leaning his arms on the edge of Teru’s desk and attempting to follow his line of sight.

“He seems awfully friendly with Kageyama. I bet he used his connections to force his way in, just like Kageyama did.”

“I bet he’s just as untalented as him, too. I wonder what he put on his application to get in?”

Teru tears his eyes away from the group of gossiping teenagers and looks back to Shigeo, mustering up a well-practiced smile. “It’s nothing,” he assures, “I just got distracted for a moment. What were you saying?” He wonders if his classmates know he can hear them just fine from across the mostly-quiet classroom, or if they’re speaking loudly on purpose just to get on his nerves. Either way, it’s working.

Shigeo frowns, his gaze flicking to the group across the room before looking back to Teru. “Sorry about them, they’re always like that,” he murmurs, even though he has no part in it and Teru has never seen Shigeo so much as approach them. “They’re always so suspicious of new students, and they’re not very forgiving, either. I’ve been in the same class as them since elementary school, and they still haven’t really accepted me. Most of the time, they just pretend I don’t exist.” He shrugs his shoulders, glancing down at his notebook.

Teru raises a brow at him. “Really? That’s an awfully long time to hold a grudge based on nothing,” he grumbles disapprovingly. “I would have thought that most high school students would have gotten past all the petty assumptions by the time they graduated middle school, but I guess some people never grow up.”

Shigeo shrugs his shoulders. “I’m not so sure about that. Sometimes it’s hard to know why people do things, but there’s always a reason, don’t you think?” he replies with a little smile, leaning his head forward to rest it in the palm of his hand. “They probably seem childish now, but everyone has room to grow. They just need a little more time to figure things out, I think.”

Teru’s tempted to deny such sentiments right away, but he finds himself unable to say anything when faced with Shigeo’s unabashed honesty. He states his case plainly and with a tone akin to fondness, and Teru finds that there’s nothing he wants to argue about. “Huh, I guess you’re right,” he concedes, but it doesn’t stop the little splinter of homesickness that worms its way into his heart, the longing to go back to somewhere he’s accepted by everyone.

---

“... and that’s about it. I’m homeroom teacher walked in pretty soon after that, and I didn’t hear anything else from them for the rest of the day,” Teru says into his phone. Snowflakes swirl around his head and fall at his feet, only to be flattened beneath his thick snow boots as he walks back to his dorm room. Each word comes out of his mouth in a puff of fog, which hangs in the air for just a moment before dissipating out of sight. He reaches up with one mittened hand to adjust the scarf around his neck, tugging it tighter around his chilled neck.

“Talk about uptight! I bet they’ve never experienced a hard time in their lives. Maybe they wouldn’t be so quick to gossip if they got a taste of their own medicine.” Tome’s voice comes across the line crackly and somewhat distorted, and in the background, Teru can hear the telltale sounds of children playing in the winter’s first snow as Tome watches over them. Their screams are almost loud enough to drown out Tome’s voice entirely, but rather than feeling annoyed at their loudness, Teru feels a pang of loneliness that he isn’t around to experience the first snow with them. “Want me to come beat them up for you? I’ll get an express train,” Tome threatens.

Just like that, the loneliness is pushed to the back of his mind, and he has to stifle a snort of amusement at her overly-serious tone. “Absolutely not, I’d never give you the chance to embarrass me like that,” he teases, but it’s hard to keep the fondness out of his tone at the thought of her sticking up for him, just like when the other kids would try to tease him when he was just a child. “I’ll probably just leave it be. None of the other students seem to pay them much mind, and it’s not like they have a leg to stand on with their arguments, anyway. They just need to grow up a little more.” He tugs on the edge of his hat, drawing it down over the pink tips of his ears before the cold wind can get to them. 

On the other side of the line, Tome laughs, loud and boisterous. “That’s the spirit! Don’t let those elitist brats get to you. You’re gonna be--Hey! Get down from there, it’s icy!” Tome cuts herself off suddenly, her voice coming across more distant as she scolds what Teru assumes to be the younger kids getting a little too adventurous. “Don’t make me come over there, you monkeys! Uh, Teru? I’m really sorry, but I gotta go, the kids are trying to climb the trees. Call me again soon, okay?”

“Okay--” Teru starts, but before he can even say goodbye, the line goes dead. He pauses in his walking, looking down at his phone’s blank screen for a moment. His own reflection stares back at him, eyes filled with disappointment and a petty sense of annoyance that Tome had dared to hang up on him, and after a moment, he sighs and slips his phone into the pocket of his winter coat. He tugs his scarf up over his mouth and nose, feeling the loneliness easily streaming back now that he has no one to distract him. He glances up at the cloudy, snowy sky, gray and impenetrable. It’s the last day of classes before the winter holiday, and the snow is a reminder that Christmas is fast approaching. This winter, it feels even bleaker than before, and Teru’s experienced a lot of bleak, lonely Christmases growing up, some of them self-imposed. It’ll be the first Christmas in many years that he’s spent away from home; he’d love to go back to his hometown for the holidays, but he doesn’t make nearly enough money working for Reigen to pay for a round-trip plane ticket, not to mention baggage fees and taxi rides to the airport and back. Besides, he thinks to himself glumly, if I go home now, I might not come back.

As desperately as he’d love to see Tome and all of the other kids he’d come to consider his siblings, he has a sneaking suspicion that he’ll lose his nerve if he relaxes too much over this break. After all, even with how difficult the schoolwork is and how abrasive his classmates can be, he still has a goal to reach. Someday, somehow, he’s going to find the boy who saved his life so many years ago and give him a proper thank-you. He can’t do that if he’s bogged down by his desire to go home, to just give it all up and go back to what he knows. Besides, he’s survived the first semester, so surely the second will come easier, right?

Despite his attempt at positive thinking, his glum attitude clings to him as he takes a detour toward the gym in an attempt to get out of the oppressive cold for a few minutes. He tugs his scarf down once more as he enters the building, the sudden shift in temperature causing his nose to run just a little. He sniffs, walking down a quiet hallway that separates the two main gymnasiums; the larger of the two houses the basketball courts and bleachers, while the smaller is relegated to extra storage and small school activities. It’s late enough at night that the building is empty, or at least that’s what Teru believes, until he hears the telltale sound of the dribbling of a basketball coming from behind the wide-open doors of the main gymnasium.

Teru pauses in his walking, curious, and peeks through the open door to see who could possibly be practicing this late at night. He’s expecting someone from the basketball team, coming to practice their shooting before bed, but instead he finds himself staring at Shigeo, still dressed in his uniform’s white shirt and navy slacks, his tie and jacket discarded to somewhere else in the gym. It’s so surprising that Teru does a double-take, his brain catching up with his eyes just in time to see Shigeo attempt a basket from the free-throw line. It bounces narrowly off the basket’s rim and hits the ground with an echoing thud, and Shigeo watches it roll away with slumped shoulders. Then he turns abruptly on his feet and looks up from the gym floor, catching Teru’s eye as he lingers in the doorway.

“Teru,” he exclaims, footsteps stumbling just a bit. He starts to make his way over, and Teru moves to meet him halfway, eyes lingering on the retreating basketball with curiosity. “What are you doing out here? Aren’t you going home for the holidays?” Shigeo continues, obviously surprised to see Teru still on campus.

“I could ask you the same question,” Teru says with a faint, forced smile, his previous feelings of isolation still not banished. “They’re going to close campus soon, right? You should hurry back, before the security guards come by and get angry with you for breaking curfew.” It’s already long past closing hours for the gymnasiums, and it isn’t really like Shigeo to overlook a detail like that when it’s clearly printed on the signs on every door.

Shigeo looks away, and Teru’s surprised to see a rather glum, faraway look come to his expression. It’s rare and just a little troubling to see Shigeo like this, compared to his usual small smiles or stony, expressionless default. “I guess I’m just not really ready for the holidays,” he murmurs in response, turning away from Teru and sitting down on the lowest bench of the built-in bleachers. “My family is always kind of weird around this time of the year. It’s… hard to be around them. I guess I’m just putting off the inevitable.”

Teru tilts his head, curious but hesitant to breach what could potentially be a sensitive topic for Shigeo. He lowers himself down onto the bench alongside his friend. “Weird how?” he asks eventually.

Shigeo just shrugs, still looking away. “I don’t know, exactly. It’s been like this for years, but I don’t remember what happened to make things like this. Even Ritsu…” He trails off, eyes fogging over for a brief moment as he goes still and stares out at nothing in particular. He’s only frozen for a second, but it’s enough to put the idea in Teru’s mind that something must be really wrong. Then Shigeo shakes his head and breaks the trance, turning to offer Teru a small, now-familiar smile. “It’s probably just my imagination, but I guess I’ve just been feeling kind of down about going home for the holidays.”

“Guess we’re both feeling a little sad today,” Teru chuckles, and finds himself, surprisingly, a little comforted that he’s not the only one feeling a little depressed now that the holidays are quickly approaching.

“You too?” Shigeo asks, but before he can say anything else, he’s interrupted by the sound of his stomach loudly growling.

Teru stifles a fit of giggles with his hand, the edges of his amused smile peeking out from between his fingers. “C’mon, why don’t we go over to the diner?” he suggests, standing up and holding out his hand to Shigeo.

Shigeo blinks up at Teru in surprise, though he doesn’t hesitate to take his offered hand. “Now?” he clarifies, letting Teru haul him to his feet.

Teru nods. “You probably missed dinner at home, right? I bet there’s something at the diner that we can whip up,” he urges, readjusting his bag on his shoulder while Shigeo retrieves his suit jacket and tugs on his winter coat and hat.

“I guess it’s worth a try, though Reigen and I already cleaned out the pantry and fridges for the break,” Shigeo mumbles into his scarf, which he wraps tightly around his neck as the two of them make their way down the familiar path to Sweets & Such’s front door. The lights are out and Reigen is, as expected, nowhere to be seen, but it’s easy enough to pluck the spare key from under the store’s welcome mat to let themselves in.

Shigeo flicks on the kitchen lights as Teru begins to root around the fridge and pantries to see what’s left over, but, as Shigeo had anticipated, there isn’t much left behind after the end-of-semester cleaning.

“An onion, some leftover shredded cheese, and half a loaf of stale french bread… there really isn’t anything left,” Shigeo sighs, staring down at the meager contents they’d managed to scavenge from the bare shelves.

Teru, on the other hand, is looking at the haul with bright eyes. “No, this will definitely work!” he assures with a grin, shucking off his jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his white undershirt to keep them from getting dirty. “I’ll just go french!”

“French?” Shigeo echoes, curious. Teru’s already moving around the kitchen, pulling out pots and setting them on the stove to heat while he scavenges for a few essential herbs and spices. “You can really make something with these ingredients?”

Teru meets Shigeo’s eyes across the kitchen and winks, his mind already racing with possibilities. “You can go ahead and wait for me in the parlor, okay? This won’t take long,” he assures, already cutting butter into the bottom of a small pot. I’ll use chicken stock as a base, with a little bit of salt for taste and the french bread to give it substance, he recites to himself, chopping onions and dropping them into the pot to caramelize. A little shredded cheese to top it off, and this is sure to make a really good soup.

As he goes over the recipe in his mind, he moves fluidly around the kitchen, now completely comfortable in this space that he’s come to claim for himself. It’s easy to fall into a rhythm, and the familiar processes that come with cooking are repetitive and soothing, drawing some of the tenseness from his shoulders and smoothing over the persistent crease in his brow.

He slides the shallow pot into the oven to toast for a few minutes, undoing his apron strings and hanging the dirty apron on its designated hook. He pauses for a moment, lets his hands linger on the apron’s edge, and frowns softly. The kitchen is too quiet. For a time, cooking here had made for a good distraction, but now all he can think about is the fact that there’s no one here but himself and Shigeo. No children hovering at the doorway in search of treats, no Sisters poking their heads in to see how he’s doing, no Tome come to steal tastes from his bowls and distract him with silly stories and dreams made up on the spot. He’d never realized before how much those little things meant to him, but now they seem so far away that they’d be impossible to obtain without giving up on his own dream.

Sighing defeatedly, he pokes his head back out into the parlor to let Shigeo know that the food is nearly ready. However, he hesitates when he sees that Shigeo has fallen fast asleep, his head resting on his arms atop one of the round tables in the middle of the room, his quiet breathing the only thing breaking the silence.

He must have been tired, Teru muses, wandering over to his table to stand at his side. He’s wearing his winter coat, but it’s still cold, even inside the diner. Just to be safe, Teru picks up Shigeo’s discarded uniform jacket and drapes it over his back and shoulders, if only to provide an extra layer to help stave off the cold.

Teru stands, quietly, at the side of the table for a few long moments, eyes downcast. Despite his desire to keep moving, to finish what he came for, he can’t help but feel like he’s not wanted or needed here, at least in the eyes of most. He has a job here, a class schedule, and friends, but even as he tries to list the good things in his head, he can’t seem to outnumber the bad. He sniffles loudly, reaching up to rub his nose as his throat tightens and he feels his eyes begin to burn. He has everything he could possibly ask for here, but he still finds himself sinking under the weight of his loneliness.

When Teru leaves the diner for the night, he leaves behind two things: the finished pot of french onion soup, and a neatly folded note containing only three words: “Thank you. Goodbye.”

[heliopauseentertainments]

Settlement

Time for another promo for this guy since it’s still going. 6 chapters strong as of this posting and hopefully many more to come.

Continuity: IDW1 Rating: Teen Relationship: Starscream/Prowl, past Megatron/Starscream Characters: Prowl, Starscream Warnings: No major warnings apply. Please see AO3 entry for full applicable tag AU: Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage Summary: In which, as part of a peace treaty, Prowl and Starscream are caught in a very, very unwanted arranged marriage.

Crossposting: In a reblog

First chapter under cut. Please see AO3/DW for further chapters and the most up-to-date versions.

Note: Tumblr ate the formatting (I.E. inserting random extra spaces) and I tried to fix it to the best of my ability. The AO3 and DW versions are fine.

Inspired by a series of cracky drabbles on Tumblr.

Prowl could hardly believe it as he stormed into the Prime's office at the rebuilt senate building—not that they had a senate to speak of at  this point. It was just the only standing government building in Iacon.

He'd been kicked out of his tiny apartment. Sure, it was a studio with a cot instead of a real berth, but it was, or rather, had been his. Of course, he normally slept in a cot in his office anyway but that wasn't the point! It was the principal of the thing!

How dare Starscream lock him out!

That bastard shouldn't have even been there in the first place but for Rodimus and his asinine 'peace treaty' with Megatron. An arranged marriage as a sign of 'good will'. Bah! They should have just done it themselves and been each other’s punishments, but no. No, they had to delegate the job to their respective seconds.

And  the paperwork had only been signed that morning. Not even by the two   parties involved. The faction leaders had signed for them in proxy! That  was only legal due to lingering wartime policies that should have been revoked the very moment the ceasefire had been enacted.

"Rodimus, he's subletting my apartment." Prowl slammed his fist against the Prime's desk. Rodimus was already frowning at him because he had to stay late for this slag.

Starscream wasn't even living in that crappy studio apartment he'd kicked Prowl out of. The bastard had sublet it out to some random ex-pat ‘Con from Kaon—called himself Thunderhoof—and rented a much bigger apartment in Iacon on Prowl's salary. Who even gave him access to that? It certainly wasn't Prowl. What the hell did Megatron sneak in those arrangement documents? It was like he couldn't have been rid of Starscream soon enough. Not that Prowl could really bring himself to blame the old warlord. Four million years  of hanging around that scheming banshee would have driven anyone up the wall.

"Prowl, listen—"

"One day and he's taken my home, my salary, and barred from even entering the new apartment he rented with my money!"

"Look." Rodimus put his hands in the air to stop that train of complaints in its tracks. "Prowl, dude, clearly you gotta be a better conjunx."

"You don't even know what that means!" Confirmed bachelor  wouldn’t know what a committed relationship looked like if it bit him on the aft! Then again, Prowl’s “committed relationships” had all gone rather south…. At least he knew what they looked like! Furthermore, it wasn’t as though he chose Starscream. That slippery eel was thrust upon on him, a result of their equal rank. What the hell was Rodimus getting at?

"I dunno what else to tell you. I mean like, sure, you’re not exactly… warm and affectionate, but you could, maybe give it a go. Woo him with your… I’d say charms but I can’t. I can’t do it.” Prowl felt his right optic flicker and twitch. “Woo him with your… uh…" The Prime just gestured with a tired hand at what was vaguely Prowl’s entirety, with a special emphasis on his front bumper.

“Are you insane, Rodimus? Why would I even want to be in the same room as Starscream?!”

“I mean, you don’t have to—Oh, that reminds me.” Rodimus’ hand disappeared below the line of   the desk, rummaging around in a drawer from the sounds of it. “Megs tossed these at my head this morning before practically running out like he just sold me a lemon. Happiest I’ve ever seen him. I think they’re Starscream’s.”

In short order, what looked like… old-fashioned keys were tossed across the desk towards Prowl. He cautiously reached out to pick them up for examination. Most Autobot systems used electric locks tied to palmprints or rubprints. Why would Starscream possess these antiques? They would be a little more difficult to hack remotely, however.

Hm.

"Alright, so I'm gonna clock out now and you're gonna go back to the doghouse that is your office."

--

“You bought how many turbofoxes?”

“Oh, only twenty-five,” sneered the voice through the intercom. Prowl scowled at the locked door, arms crossed over his chest in distaste. He was  still locked out of this new apartment and he’d be promptly ‘turned  away’—threatened with violence upon his personage more accurately—by the  new tenant in his old apartment. While Prowl didn’t really want in this  new apartment, as it was far too big with multiple berthrooms and  Starscream was there, he needed to know what he was unwillingly spending  his money on.

“Twenty-five?!”

“It’s most befitting for a wealthy widower like myself, wouldn’t you say?”

“Starscream, given that we both know what constitutes a 'widower’, I can only assume you’re making a threat on my life.”

“Not at all, with you alive and well but out of my sight, I can keep collecting your salary and benefits in order to be kept in the style to which I have become accustomed.” It had only been a week since their bosses signed on their behalf.

"Don't you have your own money?" What a stupid question to have to ask. Surely  Starscream had his own salary but of course he wouldn't use it when another's dime was available. Prowl wasn't sure why he'd bothered asking something so obvious.

"Please, of course I do but you should know  by now with all of your data that that fool Megatron lives like a miser and assumes that's how all of High Command should live. I'm practically a pauper." Well, not with Prowl’s second-in-command salary in hand he certainly wasn’t.

--

Prowl wasn’t entirely sure how he had ended up in this position. That bothered him quite a bit on a rather personal level given his pride in accurately predicting outcomes based on probabilities and  simulations. None of the simulations he’d run ended up with him stuck in the storage closet of what would nominally be his own home underneath a grey, growling turbofox named Butch, all while Starscream had a good laugh at his misfortune from the doorway.

“At least use the front  door like a normal mech." Nevermind the fact that Starscream had   specifically removed his access from the pad on the front door. "Now I have to pay—” With Prowl’s money. “—to have someone repair and replace all of the ductwork.”

Maybe... he really ought to look into that set of keys Rodimus had given him.