#i have lit my ankles on fire by accident like this but i have always been near a lake to put it out

[iii-days-grace]

looking for references for corey's tattoos and found this gem

[potter-imagines]

Getting Drunk With Fred Weasley

Prompt: getting drunk w/ your boyfriend Fred would include + mini blurbs

Warning: drinking, swearing, and some suggestive wording

Word Count: 2.2k

Notes: n/a

Parties are not an uncommon event in the Gryffindor common room

Alcohol and drink mixtures of all sorts are being poured left and right every weekend

Most weekend you have a drink or two while catching up with your friends after a busy week of school

Other weekends you choose the path of getting plastered alongside your boyfriend off smuggled liquor and bottle of beer

On these night in particular, 

Fred does not let you out of his sight

At all

Unless of course Lee challenges him to a beer pong match then he’ll carefully usher you over the couch where he can keep an eye on you while he’s playing

Has to pause the match like 20 times to chase after you and lead you over to his side “Y/n! You know you can’t out drink Seamus- he’s Irish! C’mon, come watch me kick George and Lee’s ass. They’re so bad it takes two of them to even manage a winning shot yet somehow they still suck!”

Loves it when you cheer him on

Is constantly glancing over to reassure himself you haven’t run off again

Your distraction is heightened in this state

So he feels the need to be your second set of eyes

Which had come in handy many a times

Like when Ron dared you to touch the burning fire while he was wasted on dragon barrel brandy

“Don’t be a pussy, Y/n. Swipe your hand real fast and you won’t even feel a thing-” “Y/n, pull your hand away from that fire, love. Ron, what the fuck? Are you trying to set my girlfriend up in flames? Angel, Ron is an idiot, you know that, don’t do anything he says again.” “Hey!”

And the time when you all were playing strip poker and Fred quite literally threw himself on top of your body to cover your chest when George teased you to take your bra off and your hands reached back for the clasps

(( he bitched at George for five minutes straight for that suggestion ))

Fred knew you were not one to back down from a challenge, especially when drunk and not considering the consequences or regret that would follow

So he always made sure you never embarrassed yourself too much or did anything you’d be wanting to take back come morning

During any Gryffindor party, Fred is the life of it

When he’s not preoccupied fawning over you, he’s hopping around with George seeking out trouble

The man throws back liquor like its water

Claims he knows his limits, but he really doesn’t

He is a touchy drunk

Hands brushing through your hair as you chat on the couch

Arms wrapped around your shoulder as you laugh along with your friends

Fingers laced in yours whenever you’re near

He craves your touch even more so when the liquor taints his veins

Let’s be real, Fred is not exactly the type of boyfriend to try to get you to stop drinking

He still makes sure you’re safe and not over drinking but,

Most of the times,

He’s the one pouring the shots for you

And mixing the drinks

But he always knows when to stop, and when you’ve had enough to drink

He tries to mentally keep note of how many drinks you've had but loses track once he reaches about five on his own end

Sometimes he’ll silently swap out your glass of whiskey for a glass of pumpkin juice

It’s obvious to Fred that he made the right choice when he watched as you sipped gleefully on the juice, not making a single comment on the dramatic change in taste

In these moments he begins to prepare himself for a night of babysitting you

And he’s so sweet in helping you on the nights when you go an inch- or ten- overboard

Carries you up to your bed and helps you change out of your clothes and into new ones for bed

He gets you wipes to take of your makeup, if you’re wearing any, and he’ll sit you between his legs on your bed while he brushes through your hair

After you’re properly ready for bed, Fred makes sure to set a glass of water on your nightstand incase you get thirsty and a bag of crackers if you get hungry

Stays the night without question when you ask

Other times he stays regardless of if you do or don’t

Your roommates don’t mind seeing as he takes care of you meaning they don’t have to

He’ll lay on his back and usher you over to place you head on his chest

His fingertips will soothingly trail up and down you back, lulling you into a deep sleep with the rhythmic motion

Tries his best to make sure you fall asleep first

Drunk Fred really has no control over his sleep habits and has a tendency to pass out from sudden exhaustion at any moment

One second him and George are fucking around with partygoers, supply them with different products of theirs, and causing pure chaos

The next second Fred was snoozing away while he laid on the couch with his head in your lap

Then he was back up an going again

Like a toddler on a sugar high

He’s such a giggly drunk

Kisses to the tip of your nose

Always smiling over at you and complimenting you  

“Have I told you how breathtaking you look tonight?” “Only ten times, but I’m okay with elven.” “Let’s make it twelve, you looks absolutely stunning- so pretty, and all mine.”

The boy can’t help it, you make him feel weightless with happiness sober and the feeling only intensifies when he’s been drinking

There are nights when Fred can’t seem to taste the scorching burn of the liquor anymore after about six shots and it these nights where George and yourself are left dragging him up the stairs

George will beg you to stay the night because he can’t handle Fred’s drunken rambling about how much he misses you

And you agree because, how could you say no to Fred’s adorable puppy dog eyes and grabby hands longing for you to cuddle with him

If you two are both drunk, you’ll stay up talking- or rather whispering- under his comforter

He’ll stumble over his words and jumps from topic to topic in the blink of an eye

Uncontrollable giggles as he whispers- or rather stutters- out the most confusing jokes you’ve ever heard

Like

“Angel, angel…” “Yes, Freddie?” “What happens when a toad’s car breaks down?” “I dunno…” “It gets froged!” “I’m sorry, come again? Isn’t it meant to be the frog’s car that breaks down and it gets ‘toad’...not ‘froged’?”

But he’s out like a light before you can get an explanation

He breathes like darth vader when he’s in his drunken slumber

Yet its somehow comforting in an odd way

Like it reminds you that he’s there holding you

And also that he’s still alive, which is surprising at times with the amount of drinks he consumes in one night

If you think Fred acts reckless sober, he thinks he’s invincible when he’s drunk which is even worse

He’ll agree to almost anything

If Ron were to tell him he bet Fred wouldn’t jump from the Astrology Tower all the way down to the courtyard? Fred would do it just in spite of him

The only time this attitude of his had gotten him into trouble was when Fred, George and Lee came up with the grand idea to go down the boy’s dormitory staircase on mattresses

Fred, being the brilliant man he is, decided to go first

You had been gossiping away in the common room to Hermione about a new Muggle actor the two of you had seen in a film when you heard the loud crashing, followed by the voice you loved so much groaning in agony

By the time you reached the opening to the stairwell, George and Lee were aiding Fred down the stone steps, carefully avoiding his ankle which had been twisted in an inhuman position

Madam Pomfrey surprisingly kept hum about Fred’s intoxication and instead scolded him for hours on end about his reckless, mindless choice to try to slide down, winding, steep, stone steps

Once news reached the professors the nest morning, McGoagall dismissed 40 points from Gryffindor for the incident

Using your mattress to surf down the twirling stairwell has since been prohibited

On a separate occasion Fred had accident lit the edge of the curtain on fire

You can always tell when he’s reached that level by the volume in his tone

It tends to get deeper the more intoxicated he becomes

And his words slowly slur together into a string of blabber

Mostly compliments, sweet words, and sometimes suggestive ones as well

Fred gets a bit more… forward when he’s got that liquid courage soaring through him

His hands will start to roam slowly from around your waist to your lower back, then resting on your bum

He gets turned on watching you play beer pong for some reason

Especially when you win

Maybe it’s the view he’s graced with when you bend to bounce the pin pong ball

Or the feistiness that arises when the match gets hot

It’s more than enticing for him

Fred can feel his frame get stiffer everytime you bend across the table to retrieve the cup and chug the beer from it

When the round has ceased and you’re declared champion yet again, Fred steps forward to pull you in for a hug

As he gives you a kiss on the cheek, he whispers, 

“Good girl! Now if you beat George again I’ll give you a special surprise later tonight, angel.”

Which makes your knees weak like jell-o as your frame pushes into his for support

It doesn’t help that you can feel just how excited he is through the denim of his jeans

Fred dips his head to plant a trail of wet, teasing kisses along the skin of your warm neck until George was groaning and pleading for you to start the match

You practically shook for the entirety of the game, still managing to sink almost every shot into a cup forcing George to drink for the majority of it

He ended up tapping out once you nailed the seventh cup in a row and kept your winning streak alive due to his need to find a trash can immediately

You stopped there to join Fred by his side as he smiled to you, clearly pleased that you won

“Looks like someone is getting rewarded tonight.”

His arm draped around your shoulder as you leaned into his side, your cheeks flaring from the mass of bodies but mostly from Fred’s suggestive promise

He only forced you to suffer through the party for another ten minutes or so before pouring one last shot for the both of you, then nearly pushing you up the winding stairs to his dorm

Lets just say he certainly fulfilled on his promise- more than once that night

Loves it when you sit in his lap when you’re on the couch together

Whispers dirty secrets into your ear

Drunk Fred leaves hickies under the clothes

He’s not the type to care who’s around, he’ll try to slide his hand up your skirt in front of nearly anyone when he’s inebriated

“Fred- you’re brother is sitting right there, stop it!” “Shhhh, angel. He’s not even watching, right George?” “Right, Fred.” “See?”

To which you glare dangerous at him as you place his hand back in his lap, but Fred continues to smirk in amusement

It’s like you’re a preschool teacher constantly having to tell a child to keep their hands to themselves, Fred just refuses to listen

Fred doesn’t necessarily get jealous of other guys

He trusts you and he’s confident enough in your relationship not to feel threatened by other guys

However he is possessive af over you when he’s been drinking

In a sweet way tho

Literally wants all your time and attention when he’s drunk

If you don’t feel like dancing, he’ll ask you to come watch him dance

When you say you need to use the bathroom, he’ll ask a million times if you want him to come with

If George places a bet against Fred in a game of cards, Fred will drag you over to sit next to him as Seamus shuffles the deck and prepares the table

He’ll show you his cards and tell you to pick one

Even though he knows you’re completely unaware of the rules to the game, he loves the smile of excitement that appears on your face when he lets you

And in the rare times that you do say no, he works his magic with those big doe eyes and pouty lip until you say yes

It brings him comfort when you’re by his side

Your nights end the same each day, wrapped in his arms listening to the relaxing thump of his heart as the two of you doze off, both silently dreading the awaiting hangover than would surely greet you first thing in the morning, but you wouldn’t want it any other way

[dearest-kibble]

I like your take on yandere Zuko a lot! I wanted to ask what would he do if his darling tried to escape from him?

 this is actually a part of something that is uhh,,, 9,000 words atm (and still going) so if ya’ll want the full thing, just let me know and up it’ll go.I’m so sorry this took so long, it should not have (it actually has a second part but it features me being a degenerate on main,,, so it’s going in a different spot,,, do not read it if you don’t want degeneracy)

Zuko leaves you with a candle for the night. It’s the one night you’ve been left alone in four, maybe five years. He claims it’s something about how he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands to himself tonight. It wasn't like he hadn’t touched you before. (But he hadn’t blushed like he did earlier that night when he lit your candle.) You watch the candle flicker from across the room. You haven’t gotten too close to it. It swirls with little flickers of pink and blue against a healthy orange and is probably hot enough to burn if you get too close. You’ve been sitting since he closed your door, and your forehead hasn’t stopped tingling from where he kissed you. You hate him. You love him. But you don’t want to be here, in this room alone with fire. You’d rather be anywhere but near his fire. You’d rather be anywhere than with him. But who doesn’t want to be with the man who protects them. Who loves them. Your grip on your wrist is tight and you hadn’t even noticed that your nails had begun to dig into your palm. In your hand a warm piece of metal sits. You’ve been turning it over since Zuko told you he had a present for you. You’d been getting the same present for years and you’d accepted. The gold hairpin with red tassels taunts you from your palm.

“Tomorrow.” A suspiciously raspy voice, coated in a regal gold echoing in your two, unmarred ears. And you sat. And sat and sat. And your nails began to draw blood. And the hairpin’s tassels, though red, were stained. It clatters to the ground, leaving your palm and mind for one second before you realize that you can feel silk on your foot. Your hands dart to the arms of your chair. Move move move. And your arms sit on top of wood that was carved a decade ago. It’s awkward and uncomfortable and cold. It’s nothing familiar. But maybe that's a good thing. You’d almost forgotten what anything but Zuko feels like. Something inside you misses the heat he emits, whispers that he warms your heart. Something a little larger than yourself screams that he’s burned you. And before you continue to think your feet push yourself out of the chair, the silk tassel falling off of your foot as the hairpin slips your mind. He’s burned you, he'll do it again. Your mind argues with your body before your hands make the decision to stop gripping the red fabric that Zuko insisted you dressed in. Burgundy silk shifts as you begin to walk past the flame that flickers in purples and greens, flecks of red shifting behind a screen of glass. You pick it up, the warmth through the glass so uncomfortably familiar that you can’t help but grip it a little tighter. The candle burns a little brighter. You suck in a breath. You shakily exhale. Holding the candle makes so much more of the room visible, it’s made of metal, almost prison like. You didn’t want to be here. You remember the boiling rock story, sneak out through a blind spot and make for a war balloon. The window wasn’t hard to find with your light source, your reflection on the glass isn’t correct, something is missing. Your topknot. You can fix that (No you can’t) when you’re on a war balloon. You open your window, letting the breeze blow in. The gossamer curtains flutter at the contact as you lift a leg to put through the open window. You feel even colder exposed to the night air. The moon is new tonight, favoring invisibility for the night. Your foot touches soft grass as you straddle the open window and ungratefully almost drop your candle. Your breathing darkens for a bit before softening and looking frantically at your surroundings. The flame in your hands gets a little warmer as you slowly start to slide along the grass of what you recognize to be the gardens.

Your foot hits something small and fuzzy and your breath hitches as you hear an agitated “Quack” Your gaze shifts down as you lock eyes with the beady black eyes of a baby turtleduck. It’s mother wakes immediately, gives you one look and bites your ankle with ferocity. Once again you almost drop your guide. You bite your tongue to keep from crying out in pain. You don’t move, and you taste blood in your mouth before the mother turtleduck slowly releases it’s bill from your heel. And the candle grows a little warmer as you move away from the pond. You’d been this way before once. Through the gate, over a small bridge and up stairs that you hadn’t been allowed to climb on your own. They’re exhausting now, and you would shiver if it weren't for the flame in your hands, yellow and purple with an edge of turquoise.

You stand on a flattened platform that used to have airships tethered to its ground. Now it has what you hear Zuko call dirigibles docked at the ledge. You’re after one of the smaller balloons. The ones that are white and no longer have an insignia that was branded into the retinas of all who saw it.

--

Zuko looks down at you, sitting in the basket of a war balloon, he frowns as he hoists himself over the railing. You stand as he gets in and smile. An instinct that had been burned into you is telling you to touch his shoulder. So you make you way over to his side. His gaze doesn't even meet yours. A heart you forgot could beat starts to pound as you look at him.

“Are you-”

“Yeah.” It's gruff, a little crackly as he speaks. “We need to leave.”

“Okay,” And you don’t press any further. He’ll tell you when he wants and you’ll listen. You don’t have a choice. You place your palm on his back and you can feel his breath deepen.

“Fire bending comes from the breath, right?” You’d heard it once. On a day you wish was easy to forget.

“That’s what Uncle always said.” If he’d let you go, you might not be here today. But you might not be anywhere if he let you go.

“Then breathe Zuko,” You let your palm linger until Zuko turns maybe an hour after you’ve been in the sky.

“Your topknot has fallen out, let me redo it for you.” He gives you a smile. You’re glad to see it. It’s always better when he’s happy.

“Thank you.” You kneel down in the basket. You hear one more puff of flame before he bends down and runs his fingers through your hair. The almost moan you let out might’ve been intentional, and Zuko’s hands rush with a slight heat. They still in your hair for only a second before continuing to comb through.

“You sound nice like that.” It’s painfully obvious he’s trying to make it sound like an offhand comment as he gathers your hair to bring on top of your head. You give no response as he wraps a silk around your hair. His hands stay for a little longer and he drags his nails along your scalp. Another, less intentional moan falls from your lips and Zuko’s grip tightens before he immediately pulls away, and turns back to the furnace keeping the war balloon afloat.

“Thank you for putting my hair up.” you’re sure your cheeks flush a little as you look at Zuko. (You had to pinch them)

“I’ll make you a hairpin once we land.”

“Please?” It may have been a learned response from the other times he’s tried to gift you pins to put into your hair, but this one felt a little different. Zuko rubs a thumb over your cheekbone before leaning in to breathe,

“Of course my love.” His cheeks are red and his thumb contains the same heat that his hand had earlier. He pulls you taut against his chest and doesn’t let go until you feel the balloon start to sink.

--

You knew you’d have to get rid of your guiding flame. The one you're sure that Zuko left to ensure your safety. Ensure your incineration. The question is, how? Are you to smash it against the stone of the platform? Wouldn’t that catch the baskets on fire, or worse wouldn’t that burn you? Was that what Zuko wanted to do? Did he want to burn you? He wanted to keep you safe, that's what he always said, but he’d burned you before. He said it was an accident. But it didn’t change the fact you were burned. Fire benders will always burn when they can. Why should Zuko be any different. He loves you. If he loved you he wouldn’t have burned you. But he gives you food, he does your hair, he gives you clothes. He protects you. He yells and he burns. He ended the war.

You’re screaming before you even hear the glass break, swirls of green and yellow and blue flare to swarm your vision with color that makes you want to vomit. The smell of smoke invades your nostrils and you feel tears fall down your cheeks. Breath escapes you as you try to remember all the times you’ve been told to “Breathe.” the only voice you can conjure is a soft crackle that whispers into your ear - you hear a cacophony of sounds, somehow they only add to your distress, none of them are telling you to just “breathe” and they only scream and yell and you can’t see anything but fire- and your wrist burns and the small of your back is being held - he’s burned through your silk again. And you’re screaming all over again and you hear the words but they aren’t soft and in your ear, he’s angry. They’re loud and you can’t fucking think other than you wish he’d stop stop stop the fire. He’s carrying you down the stairs and you know exactly what room you’re going to and you know that you’re finally going to see why he was a part of this family. He’s going to burn and burn and burn and you can’t fucking breathe. He’s yelling — screaming at guards who aren’t at fault but you can’t hear anything they say, only that he’s mad and it’s your fault. He sits you down in the room, you don’t think he knows you're crying and you probably deserve whatever he’s going to do, you shouldn’t run, you shouldn’t run. He burns a chair first.

“I can’t believe that you’d try to run away!” He sounds angry, he's screaming and it’s at you and you can’t stop it. Old scrolls next.

“From me,” he spits fire from his mouth, smoke curling from his lips. “I love you! Don’t you know that? I. Love. You.” He’s looking at you and there’s a flame burning in his hand and he has nothing in his hand but fire and he’s going to burn you like his family burned him. “You’re mine.” Red-blue fire dances on his fingers as a banner starts to ignite. An angry red scar is all you can see amidst the flames.

“Please, Zuko,” Smoke billows from his mouth and tears continue to drop as you struggle to think of anything but fire. “I-I,”

“You what?” His lips curl into a sneer and you don’t know what the fuck you can do to stay alive.

“I, l-” you choke on a sob. You can’t stop crying. And suddenly a darkness that had settled into his eyes clears. He drops to his knees and extinguishes all flames. The smell of smoke is still in the air.

“I made you cry.” You can barely hear his voice. You can barely hear anything. “I made you cry.” And he sounds angry again. And you cry some more.

“I’m sorry.” He walks a little closer to you, kneels. “I’m sorry.” And you take a gasp of breath and another tear falls. “I never meant to hurt you.” He’s bowing and you can’t help but feel that you should be bowing to him.

“I’m s-sorry.” You choke it out of your throat and taste blood.

“I scared you,” His hair is touching the floor as his head tilts to look up at you. “You shouldn’t be sorry.”

“N-” you bit your lip. “No, I shouldn’t have taken your kindness and thrown it.” And he stretches out his hand.

“No, you shouldn’t have to forgive me,”

“I’ll always forgive you.” The truth tastes bitter on your tongue. “Please,” another tear forces its way out. “Please, I’ll do anything if you forgive me.” Anything so that he’ll never be angry again. Smoke clings to your mind as you nod profusely.

“I forgive you.” He looks deep into your eyes and liquid gold drips down his face. “We’ll move our ceremony to the day after tomorrow? I want it to be the happiest day of our life.” He tries to crack one of his smiles. You really love his smile.

“Y-yeah.” You nod, still crying. “I’d like that Zuko.” And you lean forward a little, positioning yourself a little closer. “Can you carry me to our room, p-please?”

“Of course.” His head gives a curt nod before he stands up slowly. A miserable laugh escapes you, as more water drains from your body. He gently reaches out his arms for you to fall into before he arranges your body to carry.

“Thank you Zuko.” And you close your eyes softly as he kisses your temple.

“I love you,” You’re too tired to think. Too tired to even catch the tightening of his fingers as he carries you. The narrowing of his eyes as you forget those words that he needs to hear from your voice. Sobs from your lips come a little more quietly as you burrow your head into his chest which rises and falls with practiced breath. The rhythm of his heartbeat — though irregular — is comforting and slowly, you start to feel yourself calm down. You pass through a gate, and then another.

“Open this door.” It’s the voice you hear when he makes you sit in on meetings, before he adds in a much more familiar tone, “Please?”

“Of course Fire Lord.” The guard sounds urgent. Who wouldn’t after hearing him yell and burn and burn and burn.

“Are you alright?” He’s still holding you, but you can feel his body sink into your shared mattress. You just press your face further into his chest. He’s heating up. “I’ll put on a pot of tea.” He begins to set you down on the bed, fluffing a pillow under your head. “Tea is best when you drink it with another. Or, so Uncle always says.” He’s trying to make you laugh, with his impression of Iroh. “Oh! He told me a tea joke recently, it was about a man named Jin who uhh. Sang?” You snort a little at that. “There was another one, about uhh.” He trails off, snapping a little spark to life under his kettle.

“You can’t remember it?” The pillow which held your head was soft, maybe made of turtleduck feathers.

“No, but believe me - I've chaid.” He lets out a small chuckle himself and you can’t help but to return it, even on impulse. The room sits, steeped in the smell of jasmine tea and woodfire. Though comfortable, something about the silence makes you uneasy.

“A turtleduck bit me tonight.” Your hands feel empty without Zuko there. “I think I kicked a baby.”

“I always used to apologize to the turtleducks when I was a kid.” You can hear his smile. “Especially if Azula threw something at them.” The ceiling has very little to smile about, but your lips curl into an unfamiliar shape, one that didn’t feel forced. You heave a sigh.

“Yeah.” You don’t want to smile.

“Yeah,” You hear the pouring of water and the clink of porcelain. A few seconds and Zuko is sitting beside you on the mattress and handing you an intricately carved cup. He waits for you to sit up before grinning at you and taking a small sip. You hold the cup, it’s much too hot to hold and you place it down on the sheets.

“Is it too hot?” His eyebrow lifts in worry. “I can cool it off for you, er uh, probably.”

“No - thank you, I think I should just go to sleep.” Before you even finish your sentence Zuko is opening his mouth. He meets your gaze for a few seconds before closing it.

“You’ve had a stressful night.” Zuko flinches slightly before taking your hand in his and picking up your cup. He places it on a bedside table before kissing your forehead. “You should sleep.” He takes a deeper drink from his cup before placing it next to yours and running a hand through your hair. Breath catches in your throat before thinning slightly. The hand running through your hair drags over your body to find your stomach, briefly lingering on your collarbone before pushing on your stomach in an attempt to make you lie down. You ignore how warm his hand has gotten and how you’re sure your sleep clothes are ruined from the unintentional burning Zuko has caused. Slowly, gently you close your eyes and ignore the lingering smell of smoke.

“Day after tomorrow,” Zuko whispers incredulously before moving off the bed, grabbing something and lying down next to you. He’s ever so gentle when he pulls you into his side. “I really love you. Please, never leave me.” 

[elisela]

in a language you can understand buck x eddie, g, 2k, for anon who asked for Eddie buying little gifts for Buck and hiding them in his work bag

--

He blames it on hour twenty-three of a twenty-four hour shift when what comes out of his mouth after Chim tosses a bag of Skittles at his face is “I bet I could fit all these in my mouth at once.”

Hen shakes her head, Chim snorts, but Buck narrows his eyes and leans his elbows on the table, pulling himself as close to Eddie as he can get without climbing over the thing. “Coward,” he says, his mouth quirking into a grin, “I bet I could fit two.”

“Not at the station,” Bobby says, sounding bored. “There’s too much paperwork involved if one of you becomes injured on the job, even if it’s your own fault.”

“No, definitely at the station,” Hen says. “There’s more work involved if we have to break in a new probie because one of you idiots chokes to death.”

The conversation drifts, and Eddie forgets about it until he’s at the grocery store later, ignoring the way his son sticks out his lower lip as he begs for a candy bar. When Chris picks up a bag of Skittles, Eddie sighs and says yes, then throws two more bags on the conveyor belt when Chris isn’t looking.

He hides them in Buck’s work bag the next day.

---

“Skip-It,” Hen says, looking wistful. “My neighbor had one when I was a kid and I swear, I used to stare at her for hours when she’d play in the courtyard. I wanted one so badly.”

“Couldn’t you just … skip?” Buck asks, looking confused. “You needed a toy for that?”

Hen rolls her eyes. “It went around your ankle,” she says. “Here, I’ll google it for you.”

“What about you, Cap?” Chim asks, as Buck leans his head in towards Hen to peer at her phone. “Which childhood toy did you miss out on?”

Bobby tilts his head for a moment. “Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots,” he says, refocusing on the pan in front of him. “My Mom thought they were too violent. She’d have a lot to say about what kids are playing with now.”

“Oh, don’t start us on the ‘kids these days’ speech,” Buck groans. “Quick, Eddie, distract him.”

“Uhh,” Eddie says, thinking—he’s sure there are there plenty of toys he’d begged for but never received, but clearly his parents had been right when they said he’d forget about them because he can’t recall a single one, except—“moon shoes,” he says, and at Buck and Hen’s blank look, he appeals to Chim. “You know, they were about four inches tall, like mini-trampolines? My parents said I’d break my ankle.”

“They were probably right,” Buck says. “You know how many calls we get because of trampoline accidents.”

“Alright, Bambi,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Most of us have control over our own limbs. What’s yours, then?”

Buck shrugs. “It’s kinda stupid, but there weren’t any kids in our neighborhood and Maddie wasn’t really into stuff like this, but you remember that game where you had like—a velco glove? And you’d catch a tennis ball?”

“Magic Mitt,” Chim says, snapping his fingers. “I wanted one of those, too. I should buy one for the baby.”

“I’d pay to see a three month old who could catch,” Hen says at the same time as Buck snorts and says, “I bet Maddie will love you throwing a tennis ball at Joy’s head.”

Three weeks later, Eddie’s gently pushing Chris out of the dollar section at Target when he spots a round velcro disc with a tennis ball attached in a bin full of summer games. He grabs two; one gets tossed on the back porch with the rest of Christopher’s outdoor toys, and the other goes in his work bag until it can be transferred to Buck’s locker.

----

The thing is, Eddie’s been in love with Buck for … well. He’d felt something for him right away, the type of attraction that goes beyond surface level, the pull towards another person’s soul, all of Buck’s goodness a lit beacon that illuminated Eddie’s way back to being whole. It was just never the right time, not with all his insecurities, Buck’s insecurities—every time Eddie thought maybe, the universe said not yet. His common sense gave way to guilt when Shannon reappeared, all of Buck’s near-death experiences, the way he so easily lost control of himself when what anchored him was suddenly gone.

It’s not that he thinks they don’t have what it takes to go the distance, but after Shannon—he’s more cautious now. He knows relationships take work and he’s willing to put that in, but he also knows how easily things break, and he’s not about to lose the one shot he has with Buck, so he’s just … waiting for the right time.

It’s probably been the right time for awhile now, but somehow, despite Hen and Chim’s ongoing conversation about who will ask out who first that regularly takes place in front of him (Buck, they unanimously decided), he hasn’t been able to go through with it.

----

After that, it’s little rubber toys that grow in water (shaped like a fireman and a fire truck), a candle that smells like lemon (because Buck had peeled one and eaten it like an orange the week before), a pack of two half-gallon, brown glass jars with “coffee” written on the side after a week that Buck worked three 36 hour shifts, a mini-waffle maker, a jar of Nutella (which Eddie had then been forced to watch Buck lick—so very slowly—off a spoon, an image which had not left his mind for several very long, lonely weeks), a packet of stickers that was surely meant for teachers but Buck immediately started giving out to everyone at the station (Eddie had laughed himself silly at the look on Chim’s face when Buck slapped one of a unicorn that said “great job!” on his uniform shirt and said “great job dating my sister!”), notebooks and silly pens—for months, every time he saw something small and cheap that made him think of Buck, he’d buy it and find a way to hide it in Buck’s bag or locker.

Buck never says anything, but Eddie watches the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he finds something, the way his smile softens into something more private and tender, sees how Buck makes sure he shows whatever it is off in front of Eddie—chugging cold brew straight out of the coffee bottle before he makes a face at the bitter taste, spends hours on the couch playing hangman with Hen in the notebooks, handing her the blue pen with the googly-eyed flamingo on top and keeping the one shaped like a shark for himself, trying to keep a straight face while his shoulders shake with laughter as Bobby reprimands both of them for shooting their coworkers with squirt guns while they run around the fire station. He doesn’t need Buck to say anything—he likes that he doesn’t, that it’s just something between the two of them that Buck doesn’t make into a big deal.

It goes on for so long that it’s almost second nature to pick something up for Buck whenever he goes shopping, and gradually, the gifts get a little more—intentional. A tie-dye hoodie after he sees a picture of an eight year old Buck wearing one (and a matching one for Chris), a “world’s best uncle” mug after Buck worries that Albert sees Joy more than he does and she might start to prefer him, a Greek cookbook after the fifth time they go out to the new restaurant in his neighborhood (Eddie might get more out of that than Buck does considering the sheer amount of baklava that starts appearing at the station—Eddie’s favorite treat).

As it turns out, he thinks about Buck a lot.

-----

“Sasha says you have to get your best friend an extra special Halloween treat,” Chris says, looking over the row of candy carefully.

“Sound like Sasha wants better candy,” Eddie says, grabbing a bag of caramel apple suckers for the station.

And maybe for himself.

Chris gives him a look. “Sasha’s not my best friend,” he says, turning back to the candy. “Buck is.”

“Well, can’t stand in the way of that,” he says. “Go ahead and pick something out.”

Chris finally hands him a bag of fancy marshmallows shaped like mummies, and peers into the cart. “What’d you get him this time?”

Eddie stares at him.

“You always get him something,” Chris says. “He’s your best friend, too, you need to get him something extra special. Hey, maybe you should tell him to get me something special, too.”

“Like he needs any more encouragement,” Eddie says.

On their way through the bakery aisle, he spots frosted cookies with phrases piped onto them; he grabs a witch that says “you’re bewitching” on it, and puts it in Buck’s locker just before the end of their shift.

Buck smiles all the way out to his Jeep.

-----

The week after, it’s a travel coffee mug that says “I think you’re spooktacular” that Buck carries with him on every call for three shifts before Chim puts it in the top rack of the dishwasher and it melts the side.

The pout on Buck’s lips pleases Eddie a little too much. So when he’s browsing the shelves at Target, waiting for Chris to find a costume he finds suitable that is also school appropriate and finds another Halloween themed cup—this time, with “Will you be my boo?” written on it, he only hesitates for a moment before putting it in the cart.

He doesn’t build up the courage to put it in Buck’s bag for two weeks—it’s not until Eddie notices the way that his face falls after six shifts with nothing new appearing in his locker that he shoves it in Buck’s bag after a shift, when Buck runs upstairs to give something to Chim.

They’re saying goodbye to Hen when Buck turns towards him suddenly. “I have something for Chris,” he says, and Eddie’s anxiety spikes when Buck sets his bag down and opens it up. He stares at the cup for a long time, then looks up at Eddie, glances at Hen, and smiles. “Hey, Eddie,” he says, “you wanna go out to dinner with me tomorrow? Like—a date?”

Hen’s bag hits the floor.

“Oh, no,” Eddie says, shaking his head as Buck’s mouth twitches. “No, you don’t get to take credit for this, I practically—that counts as me asking,” he says, waving towards the bag. “I asked you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Buck says, tossing a paper bag at him before standing up and clapping him on the shoulder. “Pick you up at six?”

“I’ll pick you up because I asked you,” he says, looking over at Hen. “I did. Show her the cup, Buck.”

“Dress warm, we’re going to a corn maze,” Buck says, skipping backwards with a wink. “And grab some blankets for your truck!”

-----

The week after their first date, there’s a small framed picture sitting in his locker—Buck with his arm around Eddie’s shoulders at the corn maze, their smiling faces lit by the bonfire, a bottle of beer dangling from Buck’s fingers. The lettering on the frame says “thankful for you” with a tiny leaf etched next to it.

Eddie sets it out on their reception table two years later.

[bungou-stray-dingus]

Hello! Thank God I found a still active BSD imagines blog 😭 So, I have quite a specific request if it's ok um can you please do a scenario where Ranpo has a smol female s/o and she's very child-like (in appearance & personality) similarly to him but in everyone's surprise, Ranpo becomes mature when it comes to her. Like, he takes care of her, looks out for her and maybe tell her off when she's misbehaving. My advance thanks to you!~also, do you do NSFW? asking for a friend ;) hehe

A/N : I DO BELIEVE THAT I FINISHED THE SECOND ASK BEFORE I FINISHED THE FIRST ONE. WELL EITHER WAY, HERE WE GO! DOUBLE RANPO REQUESTS COMING OUT! I stan lil snack boy, he is *MWAH*

Ranpo

When he first saw her in the candy shop he had to do a double take. She seemed almost too perfect. He was salivating, and it wasn't because he was surrounded by sugar filled rock candies and pastries, no, it was her. The way her her legs looked in those knee high socks, the way they traveled up underneath her short skirt, the cute little face she made, her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth as she reached on her tiptoes for a bag of candy on the highest shelf. She was precious, she looked delectable, and she put all the other candy in the store to shame. Of course he went over to help her, even though he wasn't much taller than she was himself, but what other way was he going to make her his if he didn't make his move.

He woke up to the sound of glass shattering in the kitchen followed by the sound of your soft voice mumbling to yourself. "Shoot, shoot shoot! Darn it! Oh man." He pulled the blankets off himself and got out of bed, not wanting you to cut yourself on any of the glass that you had broken. He was always so worried about you, you were pretty clumsy and you were prone to hurting yourself often, but that just gave him more reason to hover and be close to you.

He slipped his slippers on and made his way into the kitchen, finding you crouched on the floor sweeping the shards of glass into the dustpan. You looked up and saw him standing next to the counter, staring down at the glass on the floor. "You okay, cinnamon bun?" He asked, finally bending down to finish with the smaller shards that you might miss. "Hmm? Yeah! Sorry I woke you up. I was trying to make breakfast for you and the cup got in the way." You said, your voice always so cheerful, your smile never faltered. When he finished cleaning up the glass he checked you over, looking over your hands and knees to make sure that you didn't cut yourself or get any glass embedded in your skin. After he made sure you were okay he kissed along your knuckles before pressing a small kiss to your nose. "Please be more careful." He murmured, but that wasn't a parting statement, that was an honest plead. If anything happened to you it would destroy him completely.

He sat at the table, his feet propped up on the edge as he watched you turn on the burner to the stove. His heartbeat quickened, the thought of you and fire mixed together, it didn't seem good. It's not that you didn't know how to do things for yourself, it's just that sometimes you got distracted and that could be really bad for you and the apartment with the burner on. "Do you need my help with that?" He asked as nonchalantly as he could, hoping that you would say yes. He would much rather you sit at the table and let him take over the cooking, just so he knows you wouldn't get burnt. You gave him his favorite wind chime giggle as you turned to look at him. "Of course not! I'm like, the worlds greatest breakfast chef, like, ever!" You said, and he couldn't help but smile at how adorable you looked. You were wearing one of his shirts and his favorite knee high socks with an apron tied around yourself. He was torn between watching you move around the kitchen, his eyes glued to the way your body looked in the early morning sun, or getting up and helping you anyway.

The oil popped in the pan as the eggs sizzled, every pop made him jump especially when you let out a little squeal, he feared that the oil had landed on you and that your beautiful skin had been burnt. Then you would let out a breathy chuckle, he could tell that you were embarrassed. "Turn down the burner, pumpkin." He'd say, and you would slowly inch closer to the stove, your arm stretched as far as you could stretch it to turn the knob on the stove. When the bubbling and popping subsided you would smile proudly at him, your eyes squeezed shut and give him two thumbs up. "I did it!" He would hum with approval, letting himself relax knowing that you won't get hurt, hopefully, in the next five minutes at least.

Everyone at the Agency was shocked at how mature Ranpo had become over a matter of six months. He wasn't as childlike as he had been before, but now that he had someone else to worry about and look out for, he knew he had to do some growing up of his own, especially since you were very childlike yourself. He didn't mind it, as long as you were okay, that was his main concern, you were his top priority. You had helped him find a reason to grow up, to be a better version of himself, and you weren't even aware. From the start, he had begun the maturing process. The first date he went on with you, you had tripped up a set of stairs and skinned your knee. When he saw the small tear clinging to the edge of your eye he had almost cried himself. Then when you had been on the phone with him one night and he heard you slightly whimper in pain, the pained "Ow" that you had muttered into the receiver, he almost had a heart attack. He was about to run to your apartment to make sure that you were okay, that is until you reassured him that you had just burnt your finger on a pan by accident. God, did this man worry about you. It seemed like it took forever for him to convince you to move in with him, just so he could keep an eye on you constantly, but once he did it felt like some weight had been lifted.

You had finally finished making breakfast and he could finally take a deep breath. He watched you carefully as you walked over, placing the plate on the table before sitting on his lap, swinging your legs back and forth as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "Did you make a plate for yourself, pumpkin?" He asked, trying to not think too hard about your lack of pants as you rocked back and forth on his lap. He could feel the blood flowing south, and he knew that if you felt it, the two of you would be locked in the bedroom for the next two hours. "Hmm? Oh, nope! Not hungry right now. I'll cook something when you go to work." You said, and his eyes went wide, the thought of you being home alone and cooking scared the hell out of him.

"How about I just bring you home something during my break?!" He said almost too forcefully, and you leaned back to look at him. He thought that he had hurt your feelings, and he was about to apologize until you flashed a big smile, pressing your lips to his. "I love when you visit me during your breaks! Thanks, honey bunny!" You slid off his lap, and ran to the bedroom. He heard the sound of something hitting the door frame and he leaned back in his chair to see you sitting on the floor, your hands wrapped around your ankle.

"What did you hit this time?"

"Funny bone..."

"I'll get the ice."

One thing he loves doing is taking you out on his days off. He'll take you out to eat or out to the movies or when the weather allows it, he'll take you for a stroll through the park. Anything that allows him to spend time with you and give you his undivided attention he loved doing it. He would have his arm wrapped around your waist while you held onto his coat. He thought it was precious how tight you gripped onto him, how close you pressed your body against his.

One time he taken you to CosmoWorld and you had begged him to get on the Ferris Wheel. It's not that he didn't like the Ferris Wheel, he thought it looked beautiful from a distance, especially at night when it was lit up, but the concept of you and him, especially you, being that high up with no harness or really anything to keep you from falling out, it didn't really sit well with him. He wasn't scared of heights, he was scared of you falling to your death.

"Let's just pick something else. I'll win you a prize from one of the games. Pick any prize, I'll get it for you." He had tried to coax you away from the Ferris Wheel, gently pulling you in a different direction. You yanked your hand away from his and folded your arms across your chest, pouting at him as you stomped your foot. "No. I want to ride the Ferris Wheel."

"I don't think the Ferris Wheel is a good idea, not after we've eaten." He didn't like you being mad at him, and he definitely didn't like saying no to you, but sometimes he wished that you would just take no as an answer and move on with it.

"If you won't take me on the Ferris Wheel, I'll find someone else to do it." You said, sticking your nose in the air and turning your back on him. You began walking away, but you didn't get very far before he was right behind you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you to look at him.

"Y/N, stop it." He said sternly, his hands moving to grip onto your waist, holding you tightly to make sure you didn't try to turn away again. "Now look, I said I'd get you a prize, but if you want to act like this we can just go home."

Your lip jutted out and began trembling, he tried to not let it affect him, but he hated making you sad. He closed his eyes so he didn't have to see how upset you looked, it helped him keep his composure, but once you started sniffling he broke. "Come on, don't cry."

"You didn't call me pumpkin... am I not your pumpkin?" You asked quietly and as silly as your question was, he knew that you were serious. At this point you had already forgotten about the Ferris Wheel dilemma, you were worried more about the fact that he had used your first name. It was a rarity, the only times you ever heard him say your name was in the bedroom or when he was irritated with you.

"Of course you're still my pumpkin. Don't be silly. How about we just go home, we can cuddle and watch your favorite movies." He'd quickly brush his thumbs across your cheeks, brushing away any stray tears that had managed to fall.

You were childish, and sure you worried him to death sometimes, and sure he sometimes had to be more serious than he liked to be to get you to behave, but he loved you. He loved everything about you. He fell in love with every aspect of you, and he wouldn't change you for a thing. You're perfect just the way you are, and if anyone even tried to say anything about how you acted he would gladly put them in their place. You were him pumpkin, and he was proud to be your honey bunny.

A/N : What!? Two posts in one night? TWO RANPO POSTS IN ONE NIGHT?! YOU HECKIN KNOW IT! This one is kind of short, but I hope you enjoy it. <3

[psalloacappella]

Red (oneshot)

Title: Red  Pairing: SasuSaku legit i don’t write anything else  Word Count: 3400~ Rating: E, for like explicit, not for everyone. NSFW. Ya get it. Tags/What you’ll see: Sakura getting the office and oral she deserves 

Summary: An old dress, a new office — Uchiha Sasuke offers regards to both.

Ao3 | FFN |  ↓

(I have to preface when I post this that my top-tier amazing friend convinced me to do so and reminded me not to delete it this morning in the cold sober dawn lol. I consider this absolutely self-indulgent)

.

.

.

“Ah, Sakura?”

Jade eyes alight and ringed with red, her subordinate regrets interrupting what seems to be a bout of sickness or sadness; she’s been busy lately. They all are.

Spine bent in bass clef camber, in exhaustion, she straightens at his words into a ramrod illustration of diligence. Over scrolls and haphazard paperwork, empty mugs sitting in their own fossilized dregs, she snatches up a fountain pen to preserve her dignity and reputation. At her age she’s been handed enormous tasks that she only imagined in her wildest dreams, and most of those, in the past, were of love and marriage and not the nightmares and duties which replaced them.

Extreme stress manifests in mysterious and chaotic ways; she intuitively knows this, especially today, as she basks in the quiet glances, the way their eyes follow her long, long legs leading into ankles in heels that feel like cages. Her choice of a dress underneath her white coat today feels like a wanton beacon, but her battle reputation precedes her, legendary and terrifying; no one will dare blithely approach legs like those or earn the ire of her dangerous hands, so delicate until they’re crushing mountains and throats.

Electricity, a buzzing in the marrow of her bones; she taps the pen on the desk in a stilted rhythm.

She regards the young medic with a hazy gaze for a moment, then waves a hand. “Sorry, I’m just—”

He steps over the threshold; Sakura raises her chin, lips taut.

“No no, I’m sorry,” he insists. Under her bright eyes he feels the beginnings of idiocy and bumbling; his boss makes him tongue-tied, stupid. Younger than him, in a league of her own as she stands at shoulders with new legends; lethal, inured to all the stories about herself.  

He notices the ochre on her lips like an invitation.

“I wouldn’t come too close today,” she says. Grants him a demure smile, the type that doesn’t quite fool her friends but still works with fools like him. “I’m not feeling the best. It could be contagious, and that wouldn’t be helpful to our operations right now.”

“Yes, of course.” Agreeing, nodding fervently with the obedience of a particularly compliant breed of dog. “If I may — you work so much. Too young to be feeling so tired.”

A laugh, it bubbles — starts from her chest as a giggle and drips from her lips as honey. Makes her quake, mottled red seeping through the skin of her chest as a sieve, collarbones sharp.

She looks feverish; she looks like a dream.

In turn she struggles to keep the waver out of her voice, knowing she’s lit up as fulgent as rouge festival lanterns and there's no way to kill the current.

I’ll never live this down — have to get him out of here

The cough she musters up is weak and if this was Ino, or gods forbid, her teacher, they’d call it pathetic. For a young man trapped in her sphere of admiring attraction, it does nothing but induce sympathy. But her legs are shaking, the situation is dire, and she’s loath to have another round of torrid rumor on the flapping lips of civilians and staff.

“Ah!”

At her cry, she lets her temple fall into her hand and her subordinate rushes forward. Gasping, she raises her other one, trembling.

“No, please. That sounded worse than it was. Just a headache coming on. In fact,” she rasps, “if you can let Shizune know I’ll be taking the next hour to recoup? A nap, maybe that’ll help.”

“I don’t know if I can leave you like this.” His tentative step earns her sharp gaze again, pursed lips that start his mind wandering in a way that makes him blush. Physically shaking his head to clear it, he nods slowly, finally, backing out of the doorway.

The hollow sound of Sakura’s kneecap hitting the underside of the desk rings in the space. Her gullible underling starts forward again, but the foreboding slap of her hand on the desk stops him cold. Acute, like it’s one to the face.

Sakura brings her knees together, swift, crushing his damn near regal bone structure and the handsome high bridge of his nose between the muscle of her thighs. A warning.

She glances down at him, he’s slicked with sweat — the glimpse of his glittering black eye and swirling purple one bring her too close to a wave she can’t indulge; she’s still this unwanted visitor’s boss until he closes the fucking door.

“Just me being clumsy! Do as I’ve asked and let her know, and,” here her breath hitches, hand leaving the desk, fingers burying themselves in dark messy hair, “th-thank you for worrying. I appreciate it.”

She’ll pay for the smile she gives this man, a sparkle of hope, like he’ll ever earn his boss’s favor in that way, as if he’ll measure up in any lifetime to the man that has her heart, the man on his knees under her desk.

“Sure. I mean,” horrified at his own too-familiar tone, “of course, right away, ma’am. Miss. I—”

“Oh go now. ” It stutters out in jete musical meter, resembling pain — or other things. “Please.”

She doesn’t have to tell him to close the door, though she’s surprised he didn’t find another excuse to stay with her. Oh, he has it bad. But there’s no time to think —

Sinking into her chair, her hands grip the armrests with an intensity that forces music from them, cracking underneath her fingers. And now all the words of the last few minutes tumble from her lips, an unintelligible medley of curses and pleas cradling the half-formed shell of his name.

Without warning, she yanks him back by the hair and almost comes right there:  His eyes scalding her, the mess on his stupid and incredibly fuckable face, a talented and dangerous mouth settling into a smirk as he thumbs an errant bit of her off his lip.

“That was close. Ah, so are you.”

He says it with such smugness and vanity. Quivering in her office chair under nothing but his stare, still in the grips of the unrelenting buzz and hum he’s enticed, and he absolutely notices.

“One of these days, we’ll be caught!” Tries to sound stern even as he rolls his neck and shoulders with a pithy nonchalance. “Stop that. So arrogant, preening like that—”

“Me? That’s rich.” He lazily trails a finger from her swollen, hot clit to her opening, lingering and lush to force all the heat and sounds he’s craving — her fingernails dig into her thigh while the pallor of her skin and dress seep and marry, reflections of one another. “Why did you wear this, Sakura?” Nudges the fabric with his nose, and she mumbles something hazy under his resumed touch; lost in orbit, in a void, in a place unearthly.

He starts the routine again, pressing his mouth to the inside of her thigh. Frowns at the irritating strip of fabric that constitutes clothing; it’s been twisted and pushed aside anyway. Her skin burning against his face, a lean cord of muscle taut underneath her pale skin. Vaguely threatening, but she’s yet to crush him to death and he’s on the second round of bringing her there and back again, and close calls such as those seem to stoke something smoldering. Some days, it feels like the only thing worth pulling himself out of bed for.

He fucks like he fights:  Relentless, consuming. But that essential difference for the former is he never gives an inch; here, he pours it all in, something like an endless apology. Maybe she knows and that’s why she wears the red dress he won’t admit he prefers and paints her lips and runs the entirety of this village hospital system with grace and her own brand of gentle ascendancy — why he’s desperate for just the ragged edge of danger.

One of her legs shudders, the frenzied tap-tap-tap of her heel stammering against the floor in a cadence fit for instruments. “Sasuke-kun.”

Between the presses of his lips leading a hot, agonizing march back to her core, an arrogant noise in his throat escapes, rich and amused. “So this — is your new office?”

“Mmm,” she confirms, still clinging to the chair. The only support she has; the room’s spinning and every cell is vibrating, pink eyebrows knitted as she fights to remain upright and solid and somewhat human because the door’s not locked and she knows he knows, knows he doesn’t care and frankly neither, really, does she. Melting like basalt in unending, stifling heat.

Calloused fingers walk up the soft skin of her calf, catching and searing, sundering the delicate layer where they brush to release the pent-up steam underneath.

He’s fire; she is earth.

Always, all of him ablaze —  possessive in its own discipline but a thing begging for taming. He builds the pyre here, as he has been for the last hour or so, to focus himself, patiently coaxing it into something chaotic but fruitful. Lately all he’s felt is the joyless, sober embodiment of a tool to be used though perhaps this is the same, a compulsion by any other name.

But it can’t be, not with her looking like this. Striding down her hallways with purpose while bending the horrors and ills of the world to her indomitable will. Certainly this dress is no accident, as it never is, not with him coming off a mission full of blood and necessary evil.

Dragging the thin, sorry excuse for fabric down the burning skin of her leg, Sasuke’s tongue finds her clit with terrifying precision and rips a moan from her throat, pulling a jerk of her hips against his mouth. The shockwave shared, vibrating as wires intertwined, a forcible current.

Leans back, takes her in:  Her trembling, knuckles white from the fatal grip on the arms of the chair, knees sinking inward toward one another. The sight of this rich red dress against the stark, starched white of her coat blending with the mottled pinks and crimsons painting her cheeks and chest. Unraveling before him, extraordinary, even while this space belongs to her.

This, sometimes, feels like undeserved forgiveness.

Because she is always, always in living color.

Adjusts his own knees, shifts, a catch of air in his throat as he accommodates the hard length of his own caged cock. They’re no stranger to claiming desks and other surfaces as their own, but she has strings on him and there's authority in here now, where she holds men at the door with a flicker of her gentle jade eyes borne of the grueling process which created her.

Sliding the useless fabric into his pocket, raises his chin to her. Stares as she bites her lip and struggles for composure, though it’s difficult under the gaze of a man like this.

He waits, and the only sounds are ragged breathing from both.

“Please,” she whispers. Quivering, even at the ask. “Before someone comes back.”

“You worry so much,” he says. “Relax.”

“I’m sorry, I just—”

“What did I tell you,” he hisses, “about apologies?”

She blinks, startled, and her lips part. A sparkle, a brilliance emerging in her eyes as she clenches and unclenches her fingers. Still, they shake a bit, the anticipation and remnants of the rise and current before still lingering, lying in wait. Predatory. A wetness floods to her lips and she swallows it down, leveling her eyes to his glittering, savage gaze.

With a deep inhale, she spreads herself before him, knees apart. Blushing invisible, lost in the red that’s already dappled every inch of her, she exhales the rest of her timidity with an edged, sharp expression and hopes she’s being clear—

Sakura just barely glimpses the fierce red in his gaze before he answers with his tongue, deft, ardent, and divine.

Breaking the chair arms beneath her delicate hands again, scrabbling to stay on the beautiful planet before it turns her loose. Sinking, again, the boundaries of atoms dissolving — they are nowhere but bliss.

Like before, the careful building of a fire, the agonizing escalation:  He drops a kiss here, employs a firm tongue there, skirting the easy option in favor of the tease as he peels her back, layer by layer. Running it the length of her slit, heart skipping a bit at the dangerous quake of her thigh muscle; how long it's taken to differentiate between pleasure and impending crush. Again, the sensation of crawling into the den of something prized and feral. He feels it, her writhing and the pace and canter of her breathing and she’s liquid gold, fucking melting —

Her hips jerk, hard, when his tongue swirls around her clit, the cry coming from her jagged as broken glass and trembling like music, all things that make his own situation difficult to manage but he will, because these sounds entrench him firmly in reality. Alive. Knees screaming on the hardwood floor, unyielding as his cock cradled only by fabric and not as he wishes, by her hands or her red, red lips like the kind she’s wearing now.

Instead he slows her down again, pendulum swings between teasing and a furious rhythm that coaxes the full spectrum of human sounds from her beautiful throat. Rewarded for it with a whiny gasp as if breaking the surface of water, mingling with his own as he catches his breath. The end of it careens into words, something rough, he’s not even quite sure what he’s saying but he imagines, neither does she.

This—fucking dress—!

Nice, isn’t it?

Gets you attention

But only from you, S-Sasuke-kun

And her hand lands on his head again, thin fingers yanking his hair and guiding him as he splays her open, lays her bare. His name never quite fully leaves her lips, dancing with fragments of alternating pleas and curses. Just for that, for something he’d never thought he’d ever hear in his life, he grimly knows he’d write a fucking sonnet just to hear her like this — and with his tongue, he does, or at least approximates. The tremors of her shift deeper now, approaching release; she’s so slick it feels vile, indulgence in sin. All of which is smeared on his lips, his face, tasting of tang and salt; how many times has he been told he’s selfish? Guilty. Greedy, too, as he pauses to breathe—

looking up at her, he has an idea but can’t possibly know the extent of this, how she’s absolutely wrung out and beyond this dimension, hell, this galaxy, every inch of her humming in tune with the universe and brimming with absolute, inescapable heat, muscles taut and and begging for climax. Though the soft edges of her green eyes that see through him and everything else, rolling back, mouth open and lips parted in mimeo of an oracle, sunken in the weight of divinity, might give him some clue.

Don’t stop, please—!

— he’s there, with his fingers buried and soaked and deep, playing that just-right rhythm with a thumb on her clit that’s been worked to the edge and back again over the span of her busy afternoon. Hairs part from his scalp without remorse; her nails scrabbling and fingers clinging as she prays and sighs and curses occasionally, quietly, into the limp back of her hand. As if she’s really still trying to maintain a semblance of professionalism in the throes of being launched into orbit.

So very close. He knows by the slightly erratic rhythm, the pulsating of muscles inside and out and around him, tight and he steals a quick breath to endure and ease his fingers out to redouble effort with his mouth because the way she’s sounding, that sharp icy note on the ragged edge of pleasure and pain, tends to be the signal, the tipping point. The tremor her free hand sends through the bones of the chair. Knees apart as far as she can manage and desperately meeting him at the hilt —

Steady through until the end.

Release comes as glass shattering, atoms splitting. Unintelligible words trapped in amber, in a moment, in desire. With a mouth full of fire, he rides it with her through every wave, persisting through her slow and ebbing tumble back down to earth. To him.

He leans back at last, groaning at the pain in his knees. Watches her tremble and twitch, wringing out the very last dregs of her orgasm, displacing everything coherent left in her head.

Seconds stretch into minutes, and he gets to his feet as she languishes in a pool of pleasure, steeping as scalding tea.

At some point her hand rises to her own lips, limp and wavering, to clean her own unabashed drippings with an expression of dizzy surprise. The white dissipates from her vision and she finds his eyes on her again, one still richly red in its sole mission of memorizing the glowing after.

“Oh.” That’s all she says, breathless.

Sasuke brings fingers across his own mouth, rolls his jaw side to side, and something about his expression of smug satisfaction resonates, strings of a plucked instrument, a pull again of desire that threatens to ruin the sanctity of this brand new office and the role that comes with it.

For a moment she leverages the chair to rise, then loses strength — she lowers herself back in it, arms still quaking.

She reaches for him, plucking at his shirt. Hair flyaway, askew from her frenzied fingers, still in his mission gear.

Yanking him down by the collar, she crashes her mouth against his, red and hot, the tang and taste of herself immiscible with his own. Whatever sound he makes, this growl or rumble or ache, splits them open.

What pulls them apart is the grating sound of their former sensei’s voice:  “I heard from a bird that someone in here was sick?”

Sasuke feels them in the room now and pulls away. Half-turns, finds himself leaning on her desk in a way that’s almost too casual, but necessary — his knees are shot through. Sakura smiles too widely, masking a secret; after all, both still feel the pinpricks of liquids drying in the new air.

“From your darling subordinate,” Kakashi twinkles, grinning underneath his mask.

“That one who follows you around like a puppy,” Naruto supplies, pouting.

Kakashi tilts his head toward him, both still lingering over the threshold. “Terrible, hm?”

Naruto misses the jibe and instead turns his wide ocean eyes on her new space. Whistles. “Man, Sakura-chan, this office is niiice. I’m jealous.”

“You’ll be in your new one soon enough,” she says, and there she is, her usual self. “I have faith. Anyway, this office comes with responsibility.”

“Well if anyone can do it, it’s you.”

“He was under the impression you were sick. Looking at you now, though,” and here Kakashi pauses in a manner all too deliberate, eyes sweeping over Sasuke’s cloak and belongings in a chair, and ends it with looking right at him, “you seem all right. Exhausted, I imagine.”

Her flush threatens to undo them both.

“He’s . . . sweet. To care.”

“He’s a fool,” Sasuke mutters.

“Perfect, you’re dressed nice,” Naruto crows. “How did you know we’d come make you celebrate? You didn’t eat, I bet you didn’t!” He eyes Sasuke up and down, at his unusually ruffled appearance, and clicks his tongue. “You didn’t even go home first, did you? Shitty boyfriend.”

The damage he committed on his recent mission pales in comparison to the crimes Sasuke wants to indulge now.

“Anyway, we’ll wait out here. After all,” Kakashi says, inclining his head, “this is your space now.”

Sakura exhales long and slow as they step out into the hallway. Covering her face with her hands, she groans. “No matter my job, I’ll never escape embarrassment, huh?”

Standing at last, she readjusts her clothes and kisses the underside of Sasuke’s chin. She reaches for his pocket and he moves easily out of her grasp.

“Sasuke-kun!”

“Pointless now. I’ll keep it.”

No matter what time, season, dimension, he regards all of her — the dress, the lips that held their color, the new flush simmering on her neck and chest — and craves, endeavors, to always love her red.

[ghostyearzero0]

Welcome To The Wild Side (Chapter 2)

Chapter Two: Working for Motley, but pay the price. A/N: I changed some things since the last chapter. I wanted to restart this thing, but I figured fuck it, and just start from here. I changed that Lucey is now Mick’s biological sister. Lucey now works for Motley after quitting her job at a pizzeria. The title is now “Welcome To The Wild Side”. I like the sound of it than just the name of one of their many hits. Okay, but I hope you guys like this series, and I don’t know how long it’ll go. I hadn’t had the time to go and make a chapter 2 til now. I’m sorry. My parents got into a bad motorcycle accident. My dad has a broken ankle and fractured spine (at the neck, now has to wear a neck brace and he can’t move his ankle anymore). My mom is bruised and scuffed up. BOTH are okay and home now, my dad just got home today. I may not be posting chapters often due to the fact I have to take care of my father for a few weeks. So, enjoy chapter two. 😉 Thank you for your patience and hope this gets a little bit attention. You’re welcome to give me any suggestions. My requests are open too. For now, enjoy this fanfic. Word Count: 2,748 Words. Warnings: Smut, Heavy smut, cursing, mentions of drugs and alcohol. A bit of abuse. 18+ only. Do not read if you don’t like any of the themes above. You have been warned. This is going to be DETAILED smut, as much as a I can. Enjoy and thank you.           Lucey looked at Johnny as he approached her with an impatient look on his face. “Well, bitch? What is it?” He tapped his foot, his hands on his hips. Brown eyes filled with fire looked her shimmering blue ones. “I think we should see other people.” She stood up and sighed. “Mmm.. I see. You don’t want me any more.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s not that. You treat me really badly and I feel like I shouldn’t be with you anymore.” She scratched the back of her head. Johnny nodded, “Whatever.” He walked out of the house and slammed the door. She heard the car door open, and then slamming shut. She then heard it start, and drove off.

          She sighed softly and nodded softly. “There he goes. You did the right thing, girl.” She told herself as she went to get ready for her little date with the Terror Twins. Who knows what they’ll do to her? The twins are usually well known for being destructive. Their veins filled with adrenalin after each show. Though, things may be different since it’s just a date. Though, they’re always drunk and high. Rarely ever sober. Especially Nikki. -time skip-         As if right on cue, there was a knock at the door right on 6PM. Lucey got up from the couch and opened the door to see Nikki dressed up in a black tank-top and black pants. His boots match his dark clothing and his hair was of course still fluffy as hell. His bangs covering his eyes. “Hey, babe. You look hot as usual.” He looked her over, surprisingly he can still see through his bangs. She wore a short black dress and some cute knee-length boots. Her hair was fully down and was straightened. “You are all ready? Or ya need a minute?” The bassist asked as he took out a hand for her to take.        “I think I am all set.” Lucey smiled and took his hand. Nikki smirked and took her hand into his, walking out to the car. Though, he did let Lucey lock up her home. After they got in, he made Tommy sit in the back, despite he had little to no leg room. Tommy was dressed in his biker gear. Black, sleeveless shirt, black vest, fingerless gloves, tight black leather pants, and his hair was a bit neater than Nikki’s. Though, his brunette curls are a little frizzy. His brown eyes lit up when he saw the beautiful, red headed goth got into the car with his best friend.     “Hey, baby.” He wolf whistled at her. She giggled softly and shut the door, buckling up. Nikki got in, shutting his door, buckling up, then starting the car up. He started to drive after he carefully back out from the drive way. Tommy smiled and looked over to talk to Lucey. “So, tonight’s a special night. We are treating you in a special way. Spoiling you!” Tommy was a hopeless romantic. He will do his best to treat his girl right. Even spoiling the fuck out of her. He wanted his girl to be very happy. “Yeah?” Lucey smiled and looked at Tommy. Tommy nodded softly and then leaned back. After Nikki pulled up at the restaurant, he made sure to help Lucey get out of the car and Tommy got out, stretching his long legs. The trio walked in and got a booth. Tommy and Nikki sat on each side of Lucey. They ordered their usual Jack and Coke while Lucey just ordered a coke. While they were looking at the menu, Tommy grew an idea. Nikki looked over at his twin, who was smirking. He got the clue and smirked back. “Hey, babe. Why don’t you go under the table for us?” He whispered at Lucey. She rose a brow. “Why?” She asked. “Just do it.” He chuckled.. She nodded and went under the table, as she was confused. Tommy looked around, making sure no one was looking. Once the coast was clear, he bent his head down. “You know what to do right? Just a quickie.” He whispered to her. Lucey looked up and blinked, “Here? Now?” She whispered. “Mhmm… Trust me nobody can see you, there’s a long ass table cloth on this table…” He whispered at her. She rose a brow, but she did expected this from Tommy. She sighed softly, moving her hands towards Tommy’s belt, unbuckling it. Then she started to unbutton his pants, unzipping them as well. She pulled them down, half away to his legs. He wasn’t wearing any underwear… Figures, it’s Tommy fucking Lee. What do you expect? Lucey looked at his dick, as she began to rub it, feeling it going hard. Luckily, there was a table cloth other wise she wouldn’t be doing this in the first place. Nikki looked at his twin, who was trying to look serious and not obvious that he was about to get a blow job. He held the menu tightly in his hands. The waitress came back. “Are you ready to order?” She smiled. Tommy blinked and looked at her with a smile, “We need a few more minutes, please. Our date isn’t back from the bathroom yet.” He said. She nodded and walked off. Nikki chuckled and looked down at Lucey. “Don’t forget about me, babe.” He reached his hands down to her, grabbing her hair a bit. Lucey nodded and she placed Tommy’s dick inside of her mouth, bopping her head back and forth. Nikki started to unzip and unbutton his pants, taking them half way off of his legs. He was already half way hard. Tommy sip at his drink ,letting out very soft grunts as he gripped onto the girl’s head. He bucked his hips a bit and face fucked her a bit. She sucked him faster, his tip hitting the back of her throat. She reached her hand to Nikki’s dick to stroke him. Nikki bit his bottom lip a bit as he bucked his hips into her hand. “Her hand feels so soft..” He whispered to Tommy. Tommy chuckled, “Her mouth feels more better than her hands.” He looked at his twin.                As Lucey kept sucking Tommy off and stroking Nikki, the boys were softly groaning, trying hard not to be loud. After a few minutes, Tommy had came inside of her mouth and Nikki had came into her hand. She swallowed most of the cum and licked her hand clean. She wiped her mouth off with the back of her hand. She moved back up to seat in between the twins. Tommy and Nikki fixed their pants, pulling them back up and buttoning them back up. Tommy wrapped his arm around Lucey’s shoulder and kissed her cheek. “You’re pretty good at that.” He complimented her. Nikki nodded in agreement.                They ordered their food and ate. After they left the restaurant, they decided to drop her back home. “We had a blast. We do have tour coming up though.” Nikki said as he looked down at her. “We did talked to Doc about you. I even convinced him about hiring you. SO! You get to work with us now.” He smirked. “Oh shit. Well, this day just keeps getting better and better!” She smiled widely. “Yeah. Babe. We’ll see you.” He leaned down and pecked her lips, as he left her home. She smiled widely and shut the door. She flopped down on the couch. “That was a good day.” She giggled. Though, she may regret working for Motley..                -Time skip-                1982 It was now the year of 1982, Motley Crue was getting more and more well known and popular. Of course, Tommy and Nikki was fucking every groupie they can get their hands on. Vince though, he was with multiple than just one. Mick had no interested in that shit. Lucey was working with them, helping with costumes and even going in music videos. She even gets to watch the show in the back stage. Though, this night was quite different. Lucey was backstage. She wanted to watch the show but she didn’t feel like it tonight. She walked over and saw one of Nikki’s books. She was interested in reading. She sat down on the couch and looked down. She shut her eyes for just a minute. Though, it was three hours before she woke up from her nap. She stretched out softly and heard the door open. She snapped her neck towards the sound. It was just Nikki who had came in.. Covered in sweat and smudgy make up. His black locks stuck to his sweaty skin. Nikki looked at the red head. “Did you enjoyed the show?” He asked with a smirk. Lucey scratched her head and giggled. “About that. I took a nap… But it was by accident.” She raised her hands in defense.

She heard the door being locked, thanks to Nikki. “That’s too bad. You missed our solos.” He pouted. “I’ll watch the next one. I promise.” She smiled and raised her hands in defense. “Fine, but that’s on you. I’ll take your word for it.” He chuckled, walking up to her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. “Tommy and I have been thinking… You should be our girl.” He looked down at her. “Both of you having me?” She rose a brow. “Yeah. We can share.” He chuckled and kissed her forehead. “Besides, we can’t let a sexy girl like you go to another guy.” He glared, a hint of jealously was in his voice.

“I see. Well, Nikki… I’ll be honored to be your girl!” She nodded softly. “Good, Tommy will be happy to hear. But since it’s just us.. I want to have a little fun..” He leaned his head to her face. “Okay, fine. I’ll be down for that.” She nodded softly, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Mm. Good…” His wild side was starting show now, his hand roamed down to her ass, giving it a good squeeze. Luckily she was wearing a pair of shorts and a tour shirt. She let out a soft squeak as he pulled her closer. She felt his hard on through his tight, leather pants. “You’re eager, aren’t you?” She looked up at him. “Course I am… I need to relief myself…” He smirked.

Usually, he’d find a groupie and take her somewhere to fuck her. Though, he specifically wanted Lucey. Since he had her all to himself, he figured to have some fun with her. “I’m down for a round.. if you are…” His green eyes shimmered with lust as he looked into her bright blue’s. “Sure. Let’s do it..” She blushed softly. This made Nikki smirked as he leaned into her face, his lips latching onto hers. She softly moaned and kissed him back. She deepened the kiss, opening her mouth a bit, closing her eyes. He moaned softly, slipping his wet organ into her mouth. His hands groping her breasts, as she moaned loudly.

He pulled away, smirking softly. He chuckled and moved her to the couch. He laid her down. He took off her shirt and then shorts. He pulled off her bra and panties. She blushed softly and looked up at Nikki. He walked off towards a table. She got up and walked next to him. She saw him doing a line of coke as he turned around, left over coke all over his nose. His pupils now wide as he started to strip his clothes off. Eventually he got nude right in front of her. He roughly grabbed her and bent her down over the table. “I’m going to fuck you over this table, baby.” He growled.

She gasped once she felt him entered her. She moaned loudly, feeling him thrust quickly in and out of her. Her tits were moving back and forth a bit. He reached a hand over and grabbed one of them, squeezing it.

She moaned more louder, panting a bit. “Oh, Nikki~! Nikki!” She moaned out his name. He smirked, “That’s right, scream my name out.” He growled in a feral way as he kept thrusting quickly into her. He went harder as well, as he let go of her breast, both hands on her hips as he fucked her from behind. “You’re still tight. Mmm~” He growled as he leaned down and bit down on to her neck, but not hard enough to cause pain.

She moaned loudly and closed her eyes tightly. She bit down onto her lip, drawing blood. Nikki groaned a bit as he kept fucking her, hard and fast. She felt her orgasm coming soon, as she tightened around his dick. He moaned loudly, as he gripped onto her hair. She started to moan really loudly, anyone outside of the door would probably hear them. She eventually came onto his dick. However, Nikki wasn’t too far behind. He grabbed both of her tits, squeezing them as she was orgasming. She screamed out his name as she was orgasming.

He slammed his dick deep within her pussy. He came deep and hard into her, with a loud groan. Painting her inner walls with his cum. He panted and stayed in her for a few minutes. He pulled out slowly and helped her stood up. Her legs felt like jelly as she leaned against him, head on his chest. Both were now super sweaty and tired. “That was the best sex I ever had!” He exclaimed, his hand cupping her cheek. He looked down at her, pecking her lips. He heard a knock on the door, which made her jump a bit. He chuckled. “I got this babe.” He picked her up bridal style, carrying her to the couch and placing her gently down onto it.

He got dressed and opened the door. It was Doc, “Nikki. It’s time to go. Where’s Lucey? She’s in here with you?” He asked. “Yeah, she’s in here with me.” Nikki leaned against the door frame. Doc nodded and walked away. Nikki went back inside of the room, shutting the door. He looked over at Lucey with a smirk. “Looks like we gotta go, baby girl.” He went over to her. He helped her off of the couch and get dressed. She grabbed the bags and slug them over her shoulders. She took Nikki’s hand as they went out of the room and started to walk back towards the bus. Lucey giggled softly, being happy at the moment.

She greeted Tommy with a wave and Tommy happily waved back her. Nikki smirked at Tommy and winked at him. Tommy got the hint and smirked at him. He followed his twin with the red head. Working with Motley isn’t too bad, right? Dating the Terror Twins isn’t bad, right? Nothing bad will happen…

yet.

[another-aspiring-writer]

A Little Kidnapping and Forced Dinner Date Never Hurt Anyone

Here’s my first piece. There’s not really any whump in it, it’s just here to introduce the characters and set things up.

Tag list: @ashintheairlikesnow

I don’t think i need to add any warnings for this. Please let me know though!

Enara sat with her back pressed against the rigid wood of her chair. She glared at the boy seated across from her. Theo stared at the table between them, making a point to not look at her.

That was fine. Enara didn’t really want to look at his annoyingly blue eyes right then. She glanced around the room, looking for anything she could use to get out. They seemed to be in a private room of a restaurant. At least, that was the only reason she could think of as to why they were stuck in chairs across a table from one another, their wrists and ankles cuffed to their chairs. She’d been awake for ten minutes, and she already hated that stupid table with it’s stupid white tablecloth and candles and a single rose in a vase at the center.

Enara knew it was Theo’s fault they were there. She had no evidence, but she knew. It was just like him to do something stupid that got them both caught. When they got out, Enara was going straight to Eli and telling him she would never go on a mission with Theo ever again.

First, she just had to figure out how they’d ended up here to begin with. She remembered driving into town for groceries and then stopping at McDonalds. It got a little fuzzy after that, but Enara thought she remembered someone grabbing her from behind. If only she’d had her knife on her, but of course this was the one time she left it under her seat in the truck. Things wasn’t supposed to get confrontational. Not yet. No one was supposed to know her team was in the area. If they did, it would defeat the purpose of the term ‘under cover.’

“Are you finished looking at me like I’m the devil incarnate?” Theo looked up at her, and how were eyes that blue even possible?

“No.”

“Is there a reason for this glare of yours? Or have you just decided to try out a new resting face. Because I don’t think that’s a very good look on you. Maybe smile more. You can think of all the ways you’re going to kill me if you want.”

“Shut up!” she snapped, desperately trying to cover the smile forming on her lips. She was supposed to be mad at him! “If it hadn’t been for you, we would have finished our supply run without getting caught!”

“Oh, so I’m the one who got us caught? Because I clearly remember that you were the one who insisted we stop to get you french fries.”

“I did not! That was you who wanted them!”

“I did want them, but only because you wouldn’t shut up about how good McDonald’s fries are,” he frowned, “They’re not, by the way.”

“And they’re at it again,” a tired voice said. Enara twisted as much as she could in her chair to see the speaker.

“Eli!” She shouted upon seeing his familiar face. “Thank god you found me! Can you come uncuff me? My wrists hurt.”

Zoe stepped into the doorway behind Eli. She brushed a strand of her hair out of her face with a sigh, “Can we knock them out again? They were so quiet when they were unconscious.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Theo pulled against the cuffs around his wrists. “You’re—? Knock us out again? What the fucking hell?”

Zoe leaned against the doorframe with a smirk. “You heard me right. You two were being so annoying with this little dance you’re doing. So, Eli and I decided to speed up the process. You’re welcome.”

“We’re not . . . what are you . . .” Enara couldn’t seem to form words as fire spread across her cheeks. She was probably scarlet, she thought bitterly. “There’s no dance going on between us,” She finally said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I couldn’t care less if I never saw him again.”

“What she said,” Theo added, his face the same shade of red as hers.

“Well, Eli and I disagree. The tension between you two is palpable.”

Eli smiled, “I’ll get dinner then.”

“Where the fuck does he think he’s going?” Enara shouted as he left the room. When she got her wrists out of those cuffs, she was going to murder all three of her teammates.

Zoe crossed to the table with a laugh. She pulled a lighter from her pocket, flicked it, and a flame appeared at the top. “He just said he’s getting dinner,” Zoe reached for the candles, lighting one, then the other. After they were lit, apparently to ‘set the mood,’ she put the lighter back into her pocket.

Maybe if she knocked the candles over, Enara thought, she could start a fire and make their death look like an accident. That could work. She glanced at Theo, trying to read his face. He looked like he was contemplating their deaths also. Maybe she would let him live, if he helped her kill the other two.

Eli swept back into the room, a tray stacked with food balanced in his hands. It smelled amazing, and when it was set before her, Enara considered letting them live.

It looked so delicious — pasta and chicken in a pesto sauce with two breadsticks on the side of the plate. Maybe she would let them live. She was probably just hungry, and things would be better once she had eaten. And gotten out of those cuffs.

“We’ll be back to let you out in about,” Eli glanced at his watch, “Oh, let’s make it three hours. That should give you plenty of time to sort everything out.”

He turned from the room, Zoe on his heels.

“Wait,” Enara cried, “Aren’t you going to uncuff us?”

“Oh, right!” Zoe turned back to them, quickly uncuffing Enara’s left hand and Theo’s right hand. “It’s probably going to be awkward eating with your nondominant hand, but this way you’ll hopefully have a harder time using your silverware as weapons against us.” Zoe left the room, barely paused at the door, “Enjoy your evening, lovebirds!”

Never mind, Enara thought, they were going to die.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, staring at their plates. Enara had to do a weird shuffle forward to get her chair to move so she could reach the table, where she promptly picked up her fork.

The food was amazing, and she almost laughed at the situation she was in. She was tied up by her teammates in who-knows-where because she needed to ‘confess her feelings for Theo’ (which was not happening), but hey, at least the food was good.

“This was not how I imagined I would be spending my Friday night,” Theo said, finally breaking the silence.

Enara laughed, “No, I suppose it’s not how anyone would imagine their Friday night going.”

Theo poked at his noodles with his fork, pushing one around his plate. He glanced up at her, opened his mouth to say something, then closed his mouth. What could he say to her?

“I’m sorry—” they both started at the same time.

“You go first,” Enara offered.

“You sure?” He waited for her to nod before starting. “I, um, well. I guess I don’t know what I want to say. You’re just so . . . infuriating. And I hate how annoying you can be, which is why I try to annoy you. And it’s so easy to get under your skin. And then you make this face hat I just—there, you’re making it now when I’m not even trying to do anything.”

“Why do you always have to be right about everything?” Enara asked. She could feel her face heating again. How could he do that to her without doing anything? “I can’t stand how you’re always proving how right you are about every single little thing. People can be wrong once in a while, but you never are, and it’s just so infuriating.”

“I do that because I’m trying to impress you. You’re so creative and talented and smart. You’re good a tactics and fighting and all the undercover work you do. And I always manage to mess up something and Eli or Zoe have to come in and save me. Sometimes I just want to show you I can do things. That I’m not completely useless.”

“Oh.” Enara hadn’t thought about that. She’d never considered the possibility he was trying to impress her. How could she be somebody anyone wanted to impress?

They both stared down at their plates, the silence stretched on and on. Enara chewed on her lip. Was she really about to tell him this?

“I think I’ve been trying to impress you too.” She whispered.

“What?”

She looked up at him, brown eyes meeting blue ones. For once, the hostility one of them always seemed to have in their gaze was not there. “I— I think I’ve been trying to impress you. You never seem affected by anything and I have never once seen you mess up on a job. I do all the time. I have more mess ups than fingers to count them.”

Theo laughed, “So we both know we mess up all the time and neither of us notices when the other one does. Good to know.”

“I will definitely be keeping a closer eye on you now,” Enara smiled. For once, it looked like a genuine smile to Theo, and he couldn’t help but smile back.

“So, can we agree to try to be more open to one another from now on?”

She shrugged, “Sure. And since we’re being open, I’m going to tell you that as soon as we get out of these cuffs, I will be murdering Eli and Zoe.”

“Don’t you worry, I will be helping with the murdering and disposal of all evidence.”

“Glad to know we’re on the same page.”

He nodded. “Agreed. And McDonald’s fries are actually pretty good,” he added, remembering their argument from earlier. How could that have that happened so recently? It felt like hours away. “I just wanted to annoy you earlier.”

“No they’re not. And you know it. There are so many better places to get fries.”

“Truce?” He asked.

“Fine, truce. But this does not mean that I’ve confessed my feelings for you,” she smirked, “I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

“Oh, definitely. No one can know Enara secretly has emotions. That would ruin everything.”

“Shut up,” she laughed.

“Okay, fine. But we still need to plan our payback.”

They leaned closer over the table as their plan took shape. They never expected their night to go this way, but neither were complaining now.

In the corner of the room, a security camera secretly feed their conversation to the room down the hall. Zoe leaned against a table, twirling a knife between her fingers as Eli leaned over the laptop on the table.

“Told ya they just needed a little alone time together,” Zoe said. She nudged Eli’s leg with her foot, “Look at them, thick as thieves and its only been forty five minutes.”

“Yeah, but now we have to deal with them working together to get back at us.”

Zoe waved her hand, “It’s fine, nothing we can’t handle. If we couldn’t get these two to work things out, then I don’t think we’d deserve to call ourselves spies.”

Eli looked up at her, annoyance written all over his face. He couldn’t argue with her, but he still didn’t like what Enara and Theo were planning. “When this backfires, it’s all your fault.”

“Whatever you say, boss. But for the next two hours and ten minutes we have nothing to worry about. Relax, everything’s going to be fine.”

Far across town, a woman laughed. She watched as the hazy image on her laptop flickered between the young couple cuffed at the table and the pair in the room down the hall. All four of them were sitting there under the assumption they had everything under control.

In reality, she was the one pulling the strings. And they didn’t know it yet, but she had them all right where she wanted them.

[aertifas]

Broken Mirror - Chapter 3

iii. a lot of catching up to do

Stargazer Heights is a tiny block of apartments on the east side of Sector 7 that Tifa calls home.  For a while after she first arrived in Midgar, Tifa lived exclusively on the streets, huddled near train stations at night to keep safe, taking every possible odd job she could find to scrounge up enough money to afford a real place.  Zangan had helped her as much as he could--her medical bills had put her in debt, not that she could remember much from her hospital visit--but eventually she had to fend for herself.  And at fifteen, fending for herself was a daunting task.

But Tifa held on to something.  She had to hold on.  She was the only one left who remembered them--the village, her friends, her neighbors, her father.  If she didn’t survive, who would tell the story?  Who would ever know what happened?

Certainly not the public--Shinra was quick to deal with that.  Tifa starved in those early days, but she always managed to buy the paper.  She’d sit and read it at the station, cover to cover, just to find one single word about Nibelheim.  About her home.  About Sephiroth.  Sephiroth appeared on the front page for weeks: “War Hero dies in freak accident”.  No location, no date, no details.  But Nibelheim only got a footnote; something about a reactor malfunction that Shinra had under control, nothing that the public should worry about.

Tifa’s entire life was erased from history.

And so, Tifa didn’t allow herself to get low.  She doesn’t allow herself to get low.  She survived before, and she survives now.  Not long after she’d arrived in Midgar and she met Barret, a new resident himself, and his little baby Marlene.  He’d bought the abandoned warehouse on the west side of Sector 7 and needed help moving construction supplies.  Tifa was no stranger to heavy lifting, and the two began to develop a friendship.  Eventually, Tifa suggested opening a bar--and the rest of the story wrote itself.

Shortly after, Tifa rented a room at Stargazer heights, owned by Marle.  Marle and Tifa have grown close over the years; whenever she gets exhausted at work, or tired of Avalanche’s antics, she goes to Marle for advice.  Marle’s older and she’s lived in Sector 7 for a long time, and she knows everything about living in the slums.  She never turns Tifa away from her door, even in the dead of night.

Tifa feels a little guilty that she hasn’t told Marle about her overnight guest--but now’s not the time.  There’s a lot that Tifa needs to figure out first.

************************************************************************

Tifa doesn’t tell Cloud her story--at least, not yet.  She wants to hear his.  She wants to know what he’s been through, what he was doing all these long years.  Where he’d gone.

Why he doesn’t seem like himself.

Tifa and Cloud sit across from each other in the dimly-lit Stargazer Heights laundry room.  Marle keeps three washing machines and three dryers in two neat lines in the basement of the apartment building.  Cloud sits on a chair that’s up against the wall--now clad in a white t-shirt that’s much too big for him and even baggier pants--while Tifa sits atop a washing machine.  They talk over the hum of the machines whirring around them.

“So did you end up fighting in the war?” asks Tifa.  When Cloud looks down at his hands, she quickly adds, “Uh, don’t worry if it’s a sore subject--forget I asked--”

“No, it’s fine,” says Cloud, looking back up at her.  “I… did go to Wutai.  Just once.”

“That all?”

Cloud nods.  “By the time I made it into SOLDIER, the war was almost over.”

“So what’d ya’ do after that?” asks Tifa, swinging her legs back and forth as they dangle from the ledge.

Cloud sighs.  “Boring shit, really.  They didn’t have enough for us to do as SOLDIERs, so we went around silencing Shinra defectors, mostly.”

Tifa purses her lips.  “That’s really all you did?”

“If I had more to tell you, I would,” says Cloud.

“Why’d you quit?” Tifa leans on her elbows, eyes looking intently into Cloud’s.  Initially, he looks away from her, unable or unwilling to hold her gaze.  “Sounds like an easy gig--right?”

“Yeah, that was the problem,” says Cloud.  “No risk, no reward.  Couldn’t be a hero that way.”

Tifa thinks back on that night under the stars.  Cloud’s words echo in her head.  I’m gonna be a SOLDIER.  The best of the best--like Sephiroth.  It seemed like such an impossible dream back then, but Tifa always thought that, if anyone could do it, it would be Cloud.  The boy that held the world in his sea-blue eyes.

Tifa thinks to herself, Maybe it’s better he didn’t end up like Sephiroth.  Even before the fire, I never even liked the guy.

But saying this to Cloud would only add insult to injury.  Instead, she says, “I’m sure you were someone’s hero.”

When she says this, Cloud finally looks up from his clasped hands and looks directly into Tifa’s eyes.  He has the power to hold her gaze, to freeze her in her place, though he seems to not even realize it.  Tifa finally has a chance to study his eyes--intensely blue, with a faint green glow from beneath.  Even in this dimly lit space, his eyes seem to light up like blue flame.  There’s something endlessly captivating about them--haunting, even--and they trap Tifa into their grip, shackling her to him.

Tifa hates to say it, but she misses his old blue eyes.

But this held gaze doesn’t last nearly as long as it feels.  Cloud’s eyes eventually drop back down to his hands--now, clenched into two separate fists on his lap.  “Yeah.  Maybe.”  After a long pause, he looks back up at Tifa, though not with that same wistful look as before, and says, “I’ve said enough about me.  What about you?”

“Me?” Tifa asks.

“Yeah.  You.  Who else?”

Tifa taps her fingers against the metal washing machine beneath her.  “After I left Nibelheim, I came to Sector 7.  I eventually got a job bartending from my friend Barret.”

“Barret, huh?” asks Cloud.  “Do I get to meet this Barret?”

“Someday soon,” Tifa says.  “He’s a really nice guy.”  She takes a deep breath, purses her lips, and says, “You ever heard about Avalanche?”

“Avalanche?” Cloud rests one hand on his pensive face.  “Can’t say I have.”

Tifa furrows her brows, but just for a second.  A thought pops into her head.  Funny that he went to Wutai but doesn’t know about Avalanche.  Barret talked enough about it for Tifa to know; Shinra had tried to snuff Avalanche out in Wutai, at the tail end of the war.  That’s where Avalanche had set up their base of operations.  In fact, Avalanche didn’t start gaining traction in Midgar until after the war was over.

But she doesn’t want to question Cloud.  Maybe that just isn’t his area of expertise.

“Uh, it’s a group,” Tifa says, shaking her head.  “How should I put this?... Avalanche doesn’t like Shinra very much.”

“Who does?” Cloud responds, leaning back in his chair.

“They want to protect the Planet,” Tifa explains, “and to do that, they have to take down Shinra.  Shinra’s been labeling them as eco-terrorists in the news...”

Cloud squints his eyes at Tifa, perhaps unable to discern her expression.  She hides her face a little from him.  “What about Avalanche?  You involved?”

 “Sort of,” Tifa responds.  “More like… I help them out from time to time.”

“Help how?” asks Cloud.  Now he’s sitting upright in his seat, listening attentively.  A look of displeasure washes across his face.

“Barret--he owns the bar,” explains Tifa, flustered.  “Or, his name’s on the paperwork.  He’s a part of them.  Of Avalanche.  And so every now and then, I overhear things.  And I guess sometimes I cover for them.”

Cloud looks Tifa up and down, that intense gaze returning, trapping Tifa yet again.  He scowls.  “You shouldn’t be involved in a group like that.  You’re putting yourself in danger.”

“Yeah.  I guess I am.”

Cloud leans on his elbows, moving his eyes to the floor.  “Guess I can’t blame you, though.  Shinra… well, fuck Shinra.  They don’t give a damn about anything.  I’d probably have joined Avalanche, too, if I lived in the slums.”

Tifa nods.  Her hands tightly grip the edge of the machine, turning her knuckles white beneath her gloves.  “Yeah.  I… Shinra just makes me so mad...” Tifa catches herself getting overwhelmed with this.  This anger.  It washes over Tifa in waves, pulling her under, drowning her.  But she always catches herself before that fire in her heart brings tears to her eyes.  She composes herself and continues.  “Avalanche does good for the Planet, too.  I’m… I’m glad I met them.”

Cloud’s eyes are trained on her hands, which have relaxed their grip.  When he looks up at Tifa, she swears that he appears gentler, for just a moment in time.  That harsh, constricting gaze he holds her in, replaced with softness that is uncharacteristic of him.  That permanent scowl gone, tight jaw loosened, eyebrows turned downward.  He says, “Tifa...” and Tifa looks at him, catching this expression only briefly.  But once she does, he turns away and reverts to his normal self.  The scowl returns, and the eyes glow severely, more now than before.  “I trust you to handle yourself out there.  You’re pretty strong.”

Tifa smiles.  “Thanks.”

The rest of the time spent in that basement room is punctuated by small conversations, cheeky comments (all from Cloud), and the occasional lull back into silence.  But even in these silent moments, Tifa looks at Cloud and feels a fullness in her chest.  She worries for him--God, does she worry for him--but there’s something else in her heart.  Something warm.  Something familiar.  She never admitted it before, but now she can’t deny it: she missed Cloud Strife.  That starving girl who read the paper wouldn’t just look for Nibelheim--she’d look for Cloud Strife, hoping to catch even a glimpse of his name somewhere.  She remembers even a few times where, with a heaviness in her chest that weighed her down like bricks tied to her ankle, she looked to the obituaries, and prayed softly not to find him there.

But now, he’s back.  And she missed him while he was gone.

She’s happy to have him back.

************************************************************************

“I promise you, we’ll find you something better in the morning.”

Tifa pulls out a sleeping bag from her small closet and rolls it out on the floor, a few feet away from her bed.  She insisted to Cloud when they returned to the apartment that she be the one sleeping on the floor--but Cloud wouldn’t have it.  “You’re the one doing me the favor, here,” he reminded her sternly.  “What kind of guest would I be making you sleep on the floor?”  Tifa pleaded with him once more, but that seemed to be the end of the discussion.

Now, setting up Cloud’s accommodations, she feels a tinge of guilt.  He’s gone through a lot--though Tifa can’t know exactly--and she wants him to sleep in a real bed.  But the sleeping bag will have to do for the night.  In the morning, she can find him something better.

“God, I’m exhausted,” Cloud says, slipping into the sleeping bag.

“Me, too.”  Tifa found her way to her bed and covered herself with her thick sheets.  Tifa turns so her back faces Cloud and keeps her eyes trained on the wall.  She doesn’t want Cloud to notice her sheepishness--Tifa’s always been a private person, and normally she would never share her room like this.  But this is different--this is Cloud.  So she fights her shyness and her nerves.  Even though thinking about how close he’s sleeping paints her face in a rosy hue.

“Hey, Tifa?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks again,” Cloud says, quietly.  “For everything.”

Tifa laughs lightly.  “You don’t have to thank me.”

Tifa doesn’t hear if Cloud responds to her.  She’s already drifted off into a deep sleep.

************************************************************************

Summers in Nibelheim were particularly hot and brutal--especially after Shinra built the reactor at the top of Mt. Nibel.  The Mako hung over the town in a thin blanket, trapping in heat, making the air sweltering and unbearable.  But Tifa didn’t care.  Not when she was a kid, and she had the whole summer to play, to run barefoot through the fields just beyond the town gate, to climb the water tower and watch those red and orange summer sunsets.

Next door lived Cloud Strife.  This was before he’d grown his hair out long--actually, it looked a lot like it does now.  Cut to just above the shoulders, styled in spikes.  Tifa and Cloud were friends.  She considered him to be her friend, at least.  His bedroom window looked into hers, and they’d often talk across the gap.  It would always be short, superficial conversations, “How are you?” or “What did you do today?”  But Tifa looked forward to them.  She liked talking to Cloud, even if just for a few minutes before she’d fall asleep.

But even though Cloud would talk with Tifa each night, Cloud never played with Tifa and her friends--even when they’d chase each other around in the town plaza, making enough noise for the old shopkeeper to yell at them, Cloud never asked to join.  Tifa always figured he had better things to do.

She always wished he would ask, though.

One day--particularly brutally hot, even for summer--the boys suggested playing a game they called “Save the Princess”.  One team, dubbed “Wutai”, would “capture” Tifa; the other team, the SOLDIERs, would have to defeat Wutai in order to rescue her.  Tifa always thought this was a silly game--and boring.  She always got stuck waiting for the boys to finish fighting; and, even when they finished, all she’d get to do was crown the winners as her “heroes”.  Whenever the boys suggested this game, Tifa protested.  But her alternatives were always vetoed.

This time, the boys had a problem: they didn’t have a third SOLDIER, giving Wutai an unfair advantage.

As they argued about what to do, Tifa peered across the square.  Her eyes landed on Cloud, who sat by himself on a bench, eyes to the ground, his own wooden sword resting against the wrought iron armrest.  He didn’t notice her looking at him, but watching him there, always a loner, Tifa came up with an idea.

“Let’s ask Cloud to play,” Tifa told the group of boys.

“No way!” one boy exclaimed.  “Not Strife.  He’s a jerk.”

“You wanna play Save the Princess--don’t you?” Tifa responded.  And without hearing the other boys’ answers, she skipped off to the other side of the square.

When Cloud heard footsteps approaching him, he looked up and met eyes with Tifa.  In the summer sun, his eyes appeared even deeper.  When she looked at them, Tifa couldn’t help but smile.

“Tifa,” Cloud said, as if he were in awe that she’d approach him out of the blue.  “What’s up?”

“Do you wanna play a game with us?” asked Tifa.  “We need one more person.”

“How do you play?” Cloud asked her in reply, tapping his foot on the pavement rapidly.

Tifa grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet.  He barely had enough time to grab his wooden sword and sling it on his back.  “It’s easy!” she shouted to him.  “I’m the princess.  You’re a SOLDIER.  All you gotta do is beat Wutai and rescue me--got it?  Then you’ll be my hero.”

“How do I rescue you?” he replied, eyes wide and starry.

This time, one of the boys chimed in--with an annoyed tone.  “You gotta bring Tifa to the old mansion.”

Cloud nodded.  Tifa took her place by the base of the water tower.  She caught Cloud’s eyes with her own and waved to him, shouting, “You got this, Cloud!” and eliciting a rare, shy smile from the little blond-haired boy next door.

One of the Wutai boys yelled, and they all started fighting.  Wooden swords clashing against wooden swords.  Shouting over each other, yelling at each other, saying words that Tifa’s dad told her were “unladylike”.  Tifa fell to a seated position and watched from the sidelines, arms crossed on her knees.  Eventually her eyes travelled upward, bored of the fight, to watch the blue sky, and to follow the fluffy white clouds as they drifted aimlessly above her.

But she didn’t have time to daydream.  She felt a tap on her arm, bringing her back to reality.  Standing above her was Cloud, hand outstretched to meet hers, all while the other boys were fighting just a few feet from them.

“Cloud?” Tifa asked.  “What are you doing?”

Cloud cocked his head, before simply answering, “Rescuing you, of course.”

Tifa gave him her hand and he pulled her to her feet.  Hand in hand, Cloud pulled Tifa along behind him, making his way quickly to the mansion at the edge of town.  It was only then that the other boys noticed them running, one calling out, “Hey, what the hell, Strife?” and another complaining, “That’s against the rules!”

Tifa barely had a chance to catch her breath.  She shouted to Cloud, “What about the fight?”

“Heroes always rescue the princess first,” Cloud said to her.  “Then they can deal with the bad guys.”

A red flush washed over Tifa’s face.  She looked back to see the other boys right behind them in an angry mob. But she and Cloud were faster, and they reached the mansion first.  It’s only after they arrived there that Cloud finally lets go of Tifa’s hand.

The biggest of the group of boys pushed his way to the front.  He yelled in Cloud’s face, “Why’d you have to go ruin our game, Strife?” while Cloud stood his ground, scowling back at the boy with an unwavering glare.

Tifa stepped between them.  “What are you talking about?  Cloud didn’t break any rules!”

“Yeah, he did!” another boy shouted from behind.  “He cheated!”

“You guys are being mean!” Tifa said.  “Cloud won fair and square!”

“Come on, Tifa, don’t defend him!”

“That’s why we don’t invite him to play with us!”

The boys’ shouts grew louder and more aggressive with each taunt.  Tifa was unable to yell over them, drowned out by their petty arguing.  She turned to Cloud and watched his face.  At first, he appeared angry.  But Tifa saw his expression morph, for the tiniest fraction of a moment, into one that hurt her heart.  In that second, he looked sad.  He looked as if he could break down.  He looked shattered.

But he didn’t ever express it, if he was sad.  Because the moment Cloud began to feel sad, he replaced it with anger.  He pushed the taller boy out of his face, deepening his scowl, and shouted through gritted teeth, “Fine by me.  This game is stupid anyway.”

Cloud stormed past the group of boys, stomping off to the other side of the square.  Tifa ran toward him, shouting after him, “Cloud, wait!”, but didn’t follow him.  She stopped at the fence that lined the perimeter of the old mansion and just watched him walk away, shoulders tense with anger, hands balled into fists.  Behind her, the other boys were coming up with a new plan, a new way to play the game.  But Tifa barely listened to them.  She just kept her eyes on Cloud until the boy disappeared in the distance, most likely finding refuge somewhere in the fields just outside of town.

That was the first time any boy thought to save Tifa first.  It was the only time any boy thought to save Tifa first.  And eventually, Tifa refused to play that game ever again.

*************************************************************************

Tifa lifts her heavy eyelids and finds herself transported back to her tiny apartment, staring at the piano concerto poster hung on her concrete walls by tape.  In a state of stupor, of half-sleep, Tifa groggily rolled to the other side and looked across the room with bleary eyes.

The clock on her bedside table reads 3:35 a.m.  She sighs deeply.  I really must have needed some sleep.

Tifa thinks it’s a little odd, her dreaming of such a memory.  Most of her Nibelheim dreams are tinged in bright red; some are dusted in blue and green.  But this one was colored golden--the color of the many summers she spent under that beautiful mountain sky.

And Cloud?  Tifa must have had Cloud on her mind when she fell asleep.  That’s not such a surprise, though.  Usually, Cloud is absent from her Nibelheim dreams, only appearing when she sees that gorgeous star-studded sky above her head.  He’s sitting next to her on the edge of the water tower, as he should be.  But this was a different memory; it must be because they’ve reunited after so many years.

She turns her gaze to the floor, where Cloud should be, to find an empty sleeping bag.

Wait… empty?

Where’s Cloud?

Tifa jumps from her bed and knocks frantically on the bathroom door, only to get no response.  When she throws the door open, the room is empty.  The sound of wind whirring against the walls draws her attention to the front door, which is slightly ajar, and every so often moves with the breeze and knocks against the doorframe with a metal bang.

Cloud’s sword, too, is missing from its place on the wall.

Shit.  Shit shit shit shit shit.

Tifa doesn’t have time to think.  She doesn’t even bother changing out of her pajamas.  She throws on a coat and runs outside--not even bothering to lock the door behind her.

*

*

*

Blog Introduction/Chapter Selection | Next Chapter

[crqstalite]

"Who did this to you?" + #7 please!!

more dragon age content from me? more likely than i thought.

i think i spoke on it previously in another ask, but reyna’s entire late game character is...kind of a terrible person? not super morally redeemable either. and not at all a fan of the templar order or meredith. like she has her reasons, but are they all justifiable? probably not.

f!handers. late act 3, dragon age II. not at all templar positive. mentions of injuries.

-

There were better ways to spend an evening. Like at home roughhousing with your mabari, or at the Hanged Man getting your coin stolen or stealing others coins. Waiting up for your mage partner was one of the less entertaining ones, but still viable. There was enough wine left in the cellar to make it more fun and knock her out sooner if anything.

That wasn’t the way she chose to spend the spring evening though. No, Reyna Hawke had better things to do. Morally better than getting wasted and mourning everything she’s lost? That was debatable. Her ankle probably shouldn’t have ever been twisted the way it was, no, decidedly no bone was supposed to click the way it was now. There’s a nice knot at the back of her head that’s throbbing like no tomorrow. A clean cut through her shoulder from a sword that was probably on a trajectory to end her then and there if she hadn’t moved in time. Three or four bruises down her spine from falling the wrong way, the wind still feels like it was knocked out of her.

She’s getting sloppy. Reyna hadn’t thought there’d be so many out and about tonight, Meredith’s grip was tightening on Kirkwall since she took power and she’d forgotten to stake out for long enough to make it look more like an accident rather than a pre-planned massacre.

Still, four of them soaked in their own blood this time. One on the way out to meet Andraste and his precious Maker. It was good hunting, just a night she’d need to reflect on in the next week or so.

Or whatever Aveline would have to say. Reflection was for those who had time and people. Not those who had a bone to pick with the current ruling class.

Her probably dislocated finger says otherwise.

Darktown is relatively empty this time of night, the occasional fire crackling along the wall as she continues on her way. No one who is out gives her a second look. These days when she dresses down, she can be mistaken for any other Kirkwaller. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark clothing. Without the straw yellow hair she’d been toting around for the last six years, she isn’t exactly a beacon anymore to people more than three meters away.

It helped that no one who may have seen her...theatrics, in the back alleys could identify her from their houses. It made her job a little easier.

The torch is still lit at the clinic. Good, that meant Anders was still here and that she wouldn’t have to ascend an absurd amount of stairs to get home.

The heavy door creaks when she pushes it open, alerting the blonde mage to her presence near immediately. Anders jolts from where he’d been sitting, grabbing for his staff, but relaxes once he realizes who it is. And then his brows furrow in concern not a moment later once he actually focuses on her.

The duality.

“Hawke-!”

“It does look bad, I’ll give you that.” Her voice is rougher than she’d expected, closing the door behind her and limping past him over to a chair. A hard landing leads her to groan, though she’s relieved by taking the weight off her ankle, “It...may or may not be as bad as it looks. You pick.”

Three billion thoughts are running through Anders’ head all at once after she says that, and it’s a feat she’d had yet to see. Cogs visibly turning in his head as he sputters trying to answer. She drops her cowl, rolling her jaw when his eyes widen to near dinner plates. Blue flickers on his face and she sighs, “Anders. I’m fine. Alive. Just a little banged up.”

“A little?” He asks, rushing over to her, “You’re bruised black and blue, and you want to say you’re a little banged up?”

She shrugs, then regretting the action as her shoulder clicks, “That is exactly what I’m saying, my dear Anders.”

“Your sarcasm will be the death of me, love.” He takes her head into his hands, tilting it up so that she’s looking directly at him. The real fear in his dark eyes hides nothing, and she wonders for a moment why while he tilts her head left to look at the largest bruise on her jaw. He’d been beside her for years in fight after fight, and he seems only now extremely concerned about mostly minor injuries?

This is probably the most worried she’s seen him since her duel with the Arishok. How odd. It makes her feel a little more loved.

“Who did this to you?” When he speaks again, his voice is quiet and dark. As if he’ll go out and fight them himself, which she doesn’t entirely doubt. That’d be something she’d love to see if she hadn’t already done it herself, and something that’d be great if it didn’t mean Justice was that much closer to snapping and taking control, “I will make them pay.”

Reyna puts a hand over his, raising an eyebrow. The notion is so sweet, yet it’s so misplaced, “That depends, do you want to light a dead body ablaze?”

He pauses, “What?”

“I’ve done it myself. Another bunch of Templars, a few too many this time, but I took care of it.” She smiles, “I got a little sloppy, let them get a few too many hits in. I felt bad they hadn’t been able to defend themselves before. Gave them an inch, they took a mile.”

Anders groans at her admission, and Reyna rolls her eyes. He’s frustrated, she can tell. Maybe because of the Templars, maybe because she’d gone out on her own. One of the two, she never really knew exactly what Anders was thinking at any given time, “Hawke, I thought we talked about this.”

“You’re right, we did. You’re doing what you do best here at the clinic, and I do what I do best when no one’s watching. That’s what I remember that conversation being about, Anders. That and you being insufferable.” She winces and bites down on her tongue, he’s already healing one of the bruises on her cheek. It’s that kind of warm that should be soothing, but is somehow also terribly annoying as her skin is pulled apart and stitched back together, “Think I ran into a few veterans this time. They had a few choice words for me, I had a few for them as well.”

“They’re going to notice the drop in patrols at some point. It isn’t as if this crusade of your’s is sustainable. What then?”

“It isn’t like I’m doing this every night. Just whenever I can get one or two away from the main patrol. At best, they think it’s bandits. As worst, they think it’s a boogeyman.” He starts undoing her top, and she shifts it off to allow him access to the gash down her arm, “It isn’t that bad. Meredith hasn’t even said anything about it yet. Those people are a copper a dozen.”

“The chance of you getting caught goes up by the day, Hawke.” He says quietly, cleaning the wound and placing his hand over it. It’s worse there, Reyna squeezes her eyes shut when it initially burns before giving way to mild throbbing. When she blinks back to looking at him, he wears a disapproving frown, “One of these days someone is going to make the connection. You’re one of the very few hightowners actively loathing the Templar order.”

“As if Elthina has not already seen your face?” She asks. He gives her a pointed look, one she mirrors, “There are more and more of them swarming the clinic during the daytime. Someone in the order knows you’re a mage, and I fear for the day they come and take you.”

“They will never take me.”

“Anders-”

“They will not. And that is final.” He states, his grip on her arm tightening ever so slightly, “They will not take me from you. I can handle them during the daytime, they do not suspect much. Current rumors are that I was sent by Andraste herself.”

“And during the night?” She asks, shifting her arm a bit to look at what he’s done so far. Reyna is still somewhat stunned every time she’s healed by him, the deep cuts leaving little more than just thin scars in their place where his magic touches her, “You don’t come home anymore, Anders.”

“There are nights where I can’t go back to the estate, there are people here who need me.” He answers, brushing his thumb over the scar once he’s done, “I wish I could. I would like nothing more than to.”

“Good for them.” She bites back, running a hand through her hair with her good arm when he pulls back, “I don’t feel safe leaving you here alone with them milling around like feral beasts. If I can’t prowl about the clinic, then I will do so on my own terms.”

“And if you die out there in those back alleys, I would never forgive myself for allowing you to do so, love.”

“You aren’t allowing me to do anything. I chose to because I feel slighted. I am not afraid of them, they are afraid of me. And they will stay that way if I have anything to say about it.”

Silence stretches between them. The unfortunate thing is that one is the unmovable object, the other an unstoppable force. He knows she’s right, thinning out their population only means they can’t be about as far as they usually are -- making it easier for Anders and others to go about their work easier.

She understands his concern, but she doesn’t understand what else she is supposed to do if not take matters into her own hands. She may not have a pretty staff or lightning at her fingertips, but her daggers were not for show.

Another press of his hand, this time against her shoulder. A quick breath before he shoves it back into place  and she bites back a shout, “I only say this out of concern. This isn’t your fight, Hawke.”

“As long as you are by my side, it will always be my fight. And until you are no longer in danger of being taken from me, I will not quit.” She feels as if she is staring into his soul the way his eyes seem so open to her right then and there, “I mean it, Anders. Whatever you need from me, whatever you want from me, I am willing to make that sacrifice.”

Warmth spreads against her shoulder, “I fear you will not say the same thing when the time comes, love.”

“I am not a liar, Anders. They took my sister, they will not take you.”

He presses a kiss to her cheek, “I admire your resolve, Hawke, I have never met a woman like you before.”

“I am aware. I am quite unique.”

His chuckle is dry, and a bit sad, “You are. Whatever comes, let yourself know that I love you more than anything in this desolate world.”

That same declaration echoes in her head for the years that come afterwards.

[onebourbon-oneshot-onetear]

Aquatica

Chapter 1-Evie

Hello everyone. This is the beginning of my series featuring my own OC and Bruce Wayne, specifically from the animated Justice League series. Each chapter is based off of an episode in the series. This is actually the first work I ever started, so the first chapters are a little rough, but they get better through the end. This is also on my Ao3 (Volleygirl13). Please let me know if you enjoy!

I do not own D.C Comics, and I only own my OC and my versions of the plots.

I'm not a superhero. At least, I never thought of myself as one. I just always tried to do the right thing and hoped that it would all work out. I knew of plenty of people who would try and do the right things in life like I did, and they were never considered as superheroes. Of course, not everyone has the abilities like I do. I guess my abilities put the super in superhero. But whatever. Either way, I didn't think I was so super.

Before I start going into a philosophical rant about what makes a hero, I should probably explain who I am. My name is Evelyn Lowry. I never liked being called by my full first name. I mean seriously, Evelyn? What kind of a name is that? It sounds like some 18th century snobby aristocrat. No, I was always called Eves, at least by my parents, they were the only ones who were allowed to call me that. My sister and my friends always called me Evie. At first I didn't like that as much. Evie still sounded too sweet like a little girl in a bubble gum pink dress and pigtails. Ew. As I got older I realized that the name wasn't so bad. It was a lot like me, feminine but simple.

I suppose I look alright, that is, I never saw myself as drop dead gorgeous or anything. I was pretty tall for a girl, at about 5'9 (and no for you really rude people, I have never played basketball a day in my life. Gosh I am so tired of hearing that). I actually look a lot like my mother, with really dark brown hair that almost looks black, and bright dark blue eyes. My eyes weren't always this bright, but they changed after my, uh, accident. With the information I had now I never referred to this event as an 'accident' but for now I'll call it an accident.

I had a pretty normal childhood. We lived in suburban Gotham my whole life. I can tell what you're thinking, and yes, there is a suburban part of Gotham, it isn't all just dark and creepy big city setting with places like the Narrows. There is a happier side to it. Anyway, I lived about 20 minutes outside of the city in a big blue house complete with dog and a picket fence. Most people would say my life was perfect, and it was. Until I turned 12. It was actually my 12th birthday. That was the day my life changed. You see, I didn't want to go anywhere for my birthday… but my parents, well, they just had to try and do something special.

Don't get me wrong I love my parents, I really do. But aside from my mother's looks and my father's sense of humor we were nothing alike. I'm talking polar opposites, day and night, fire and water, those kinds of opposites. They had grown up as the elite class of Gotham. That 1 percent of people who never had to worry about money, and who always had the newest technology and gadgets before they even hit the public market. Now please don't think of them as these snobby old rich people, because they weren't that either. They ran a respectable business and always treated their employees with respect and gave them extra pay and vacation days, which is a lot considering some companies in this city barely pay their employers with minimum wage. A lot of people loved and respected my parents.

Anyway, back to what I was saying. I remember that day so clearly even when I try to forget it ever happened at all. A terrible storm had rolled in during the afternoon and it hadn't left by dinnertime. The thunder and lightning was so loud it shook the house. My little sister, Caitlyn, was terrified. She was hiding under my bed with our dog because they both were scared. That seemed to be the spot both of them went to whenever they were scared. At first I was annoyed by it because they would always come in my room, but I realized that I didn't mind protecting them. I was the older sister after all. It was my job to take care of them and make sure they were safe.

"Mom," I whined, "I really don't want to go anywhere tonight. Let's just stay home and watch movies and eat junk food. That's really all I want!"

"Eves sweetie, you know your father and I had to spend so much money to get the tickets for the art museum exhibit tonight. And we had to pull some strings to get into the restaurant as well." my mother told me. I looked down into my lap feeling really guilty. This whole art museum and dinner thing was my idea a couple weeks ago. I hadn't realized just how much my parents had to spend in order to make it happen for me.

I looked up at my mom's face as lightning lit up my room and thunder shook the walls. She looked so excited to go, I didn't want to ruin the night for her. "You know what, I changed my mind. I think we should go. It'll be fun." My mom immediately perked up and got that really excited look in her eyes, the look that made her eyes seem to glow a bright blue and her smile was infectious. I saw just how excited she was for all of us to go out. Mom loves going out and seeing the town, shopping, buying make up, typical girl things. In many ways I always felt like I was more mature than my mother. I was more down to earth and she was more childlike than I ever had been.

"I'm so glad you changed your mind sweetheart! Now, go get dressed, we have to leave in an hour." My mom bent over and whispered something to my sister. My sister squealed with delight, running out of my room and my mom laughing and chasing after her. My dog climbed out from under my bed and looked up at me. "Well, I guess we are going out then."

After the fifteen minutes it took me to go get ready I waited in the parlor of our house. I looked outside at the thunder and lightning and noticed that the rain had started. What started out as a few drops turned into a torrential down-pour. I could barely hear my sister sneak up behind me over the rain hitting the glass, but I could sense she was there. She thinks she's a super sneaky ninja, but I think that she doesn't know how to be quiet under any circumstance. "Cait, what do you think you're doing?"

Cait looked at me with her big brown eyes and a mischievous grin that I knew very well. She was planning something. And that was usually bad news for me. My sister was three years younger than me, and she was the exact spitting image of my dad. Blonde hair, brown eyes, and that little bump on the bridge of her nose. Also like my dad, Cait was a total prankster. Numerous times had I walked into my room and she had put a rubber snake on the floor in order to scare me, or she hid under my bed and grabbed my ankle when I woke up in the morning, or her latest prank, she put toothpaste all over the toilet seat so when I went to the bathroom in the middle of the night I sat down in it. I never retaliated because I knew she was just having some fun. I didn't want to ruin it.

Cait didn't answer me, she just kept grinning. That's bad news. That meant she had already gotten her prank ready, she just had to wait for me to walk into it. I rolled my eyes, but smiled a little bit. I turned to watch the rain, not knowing that soon enough whatever prank she was going to pull on me wouldn't matter.

Half an hour later we were all gathered in the car and on our way to Gotham to the art museum. My sister was complaining about the music my mom wanted to listen to, my mom was arguing with my dad about how fast the windshield wipers should be going, and I just sat there looking out the window. Eventually I just tuned them all out. I didn't want to listen to arguing on my birthday.

As I was looking out the window at the down pour, our car started jerking and swerving. We were gaining speed and my dad couldn't stop the car. My sister was screaming in the back because she was scared, my mom was urgently telling my dad to try and use the brakes, and my dad was yelling back that the brakes weren't working. I sat there frozen, there was nothing I could do. With a roar of thunder and a flash of lightning, our car stopped suddenly and I was jerked forward so hard my face hit the back of the drivers' seat. In all the commotion and panic my dad didn't see the tree lying in the middle of the road. The tree we collided into. It was so quiet after the deafening impact of the crash that had happened only moments before. The last thing I remember was looking over at my sister and saw that she wasn't moving. There was another flash of lightning, my eyes started to close and then everything went dark.

When I woke up, I saw hands trying to pry open my car door. They finally got the car open and the paramedics started working on me, putting my neck in a brace and making sure there was no glass sticking into my arms. Out of the corner of my eye I could see that nobody was anywhere near my parents or my sister. I wanted to ask them why they weren't doing anything to help them. Why they were so still? Why weren't they waking up yet? Then in my haze I realized why.

The truth came down on me like a ton of bricks. They weren't walking away from this. They weren't going home. I started thrashing and trying to get back to the car but I was already strapped down to the stretcher. I couldn't understand what the people were trying to tell me but I heard them all yelling. I felt a prick in my neck and everything went dark again.

The following months and years following the car accident was a blur. I had gone from having a loving family and a perfect life to being an orphan and bouncing around foster homes. I never stayed with a family longer than 5 weeks. I just couldn't get comfortable with random strangers who I was supposed to make my family. I felt a stab of guilt every time I started to feel comfortable with a new family. This went on for a while, until I was seventeen. Then I enlisted in the Navy. I figured I couldn't afford to go to college since I couldn't touch my bank accounts until I was 18, and I wouldn't have known what to do after college anyway. At least in the military I would have three meals a day and a roof over my head.

I pushed and forced myself to work through the ranks and in four years I was asked to be in a specific group of soldiers. We were trained in advanced hand to hand combat, and weapons training. Not to brag or anything, but I was the top of our group. Apparently when you have nowhere else to go and nothing else to do it is pretty easy to give all of your focus into your work. My work just happened to be learning how to kill someone with something as insignificant as a safety pin. As good as I was at the training, I never thought I would ever be able to actually kill someone. But still, I trained so that if I had to, I would be able to protect myself.

I can't really discuss any more of my training. I still have contracts with the military that I am still required to follow. What I can tell you is, I was very good at my job. One day I was testing out some new weapons when I got a call to go to one of the labs. I didn't really question it, I had been called down before to try and test some different formulas for field work (again, more stuff I can't really talk about).

I had walked into the lab and I saw that it was empty. At first I thought that I was late, but when I looked at my watch, I realized that I was right on time. I stood there for another moment before I heard a noise. It sounded like something was sparking. Like a live wire had been put into a puddle of water and it was still sizzling. It was probably a really stupid move, but my instincts told me to walk over to where I heard the noise. It was the in furthest corner of the lab, a white machine that had a bottle of blue liquid in it. I walked closer to it; the noise continued to grow louder. I looked around me to see if there was anyone in a white lab coat who would have even an inkling of what to do in this situation. I looked back at the machine and saw that it was spinning and sparking at an alarming rate. A high pitched noise started coming from it, growing higher and higher in frequency. A small voice in my head told me to get out of there. For once I listened to that voice. I started backing away, but I was too late. There was a bright white light, an explosion, and then everything went dark.

I woke up in a hospital bed. The doctors came in and told me there was an accident, and that I now had special 'abilities'. At first I thought they were crazy, but then I stopped and realized that I did feel different. I didn't look over to see the cup of water on the table next to my bed, but I knew it was there and I could feel the water inside the cup. Each little water molecule that was bouncing around inside the cup, I could feel all of them, as if the water itself was present in my mind. It's hard to explain, but there was no other explanation for it. I could sense the water molecules that were inside the doctors and nurses in the room, as the blood pulsed through them I could sense the water as well. I could even tell that it had rained earlier in the day because of a few drops of water on the window sill. I was scared. I mean, being a really cool bad ass soldier was one thing, but sensing water? That was something else entirely. The doctors gave me some more medicine since I had bruised myself up pretty badly in the explosion. The morphine made me tired and I was in and out of consciousness for hours at a time.

I spent a couple days in the hospital. Different doctors and scientists wanted to know what I could do with these new abilities. I found that I could move around and manipulate the water in whatever way I thought of. Spheres, squares, octagons, dodecagons…well I think you get the point. If I concentrated hard enough, I could stop the molecules in the cups of water from moving and it would freeze solid. Eventually I could do it on instinct, without even thinking about the molecules and just wishing that the water turned to ice. As cool as it was, it was tiring. For days on end I would sit in bed and demonstrate my new powers to everyone who would walk into my room. The doctors even put me into a machine that could look at my brain as I used my powers. They never told me everything that the scan showed, they just said that it had become a natural instinct for me, whatever that meant. I was too tired most of the time to think about it.

On the fourth day of sitting in the hospital I was well enough to walk again. I decided that I had had enough of being a performing monkey for all of these doctors and scientists and I wanted to go for a walk. I got up to walk out the door, but I noticed that it wasn't closed all the way. I could hear hushed voices talking outside, a male and a female.

"…she could be the greatest weapon the military has ever seen. Even without training she is still powerful. Imagine what she could do with even more combat training." the male voice said.

"Yes, but is she going to be willing to comply when she realizes we will use her to hurt people?" the female asked.

"I don't think she has a choice. She is an asset now, we can't just let her go."

My eyes widened and I didn't want to hear any more, I slowly retreated back to my bed and sat down. They want to use me as a weapon? I didn't want to be forced to hurt people. The very thought made me angry. How dare they think they can just use me to do their dirty work. I knew I couldn't stay there anymore. I found my clothes, got dressed and waited for the shift change for the doctors and nurses and I snuck out. I didn't know where I was going, but I knew that I couldn't stay and be a human weapon.

After my "accident" I had to lay low. Like, really low. Everywhere I turned I was afraid there would be someone from the hospital watching me, or someone sent to capture me and take me back to the military to be a weapon. These were pretty stressful times for me, at least for the first couple of months until I was able to hitch my way back to Gotham. I had no money, no new clothes, and nowhere to go. I hadn't bathed in ages and I looked like a homeless person. I decided that I had to go somewhere familiar, so I went to the library that I had frequented as a kid.

I went in to get out of the rain one night and saw that the place was empty. I logged onto one of the computers and searched my name. I wanted to see if I had been wanted by the government or something, but I only found some old articles from when my parents and sister died. I had an idea and logged onto the website for the bank my parents used. I remembered the old usernames and passwords in order to get into my parent's information. It turns out that when my parents died I was left behind a decent amount of money. I decided that I didn't really need all of the money, just enough to buy or rent a small place so I would at least be off the streets. If I take the money, that would be an easy way for the government to track me, I thought.

I needed to find a way to get the cash so there would be no money trail behind me. At least the Navy taught me some hacking skills. With my limited computer skills, I managed to get into the banking system and wire all of the money through to an offshore account that I had setup. It was completely untraceable and now I could use my money however I needed to. It had only taken a few minutes and I looked around to make sure that nobody saw me. I waited until morning and I went to an ATM to withdraw some cash and I bought a tiny apartment in a sketchy looking apartment building in the middle of Gotham. It was a small one bedroom place, but it was plenty of room for me.

As time went on, I had to make a decision on what to do with these new powers. I had been working with them every day and I had gotten stronger. I also continued my morning runs and exercise regime that I had been doing in the Navy. To be honest, I was in the best shape that I had ever been in. I was confident in my new abilities, and I was sure that I wouldn't lose control and hurt others. This power seemed to do whatever I wanted it to, no questions asked, almost like the water was a part of me. There were some major perks, but there was also some disadvantages, like when the apartment next to me had a leaky faucet and I could hear the water drip. All. Night. Long. That was annoying.

One day I was watching the news on the tiny little T.V that sat in the corner of my kitchen. There had been a break in at a bank in Metropolis, the neighboring city. I sat there amazed as I watched Superman and Green Lantern take out the robbers with ease. They were real heroes. They didn't use their abilities for selfish reasons, and they certainly didn't hide them. In that moment I decided that I wanted to be like them. I wanted to use my powers to help people, to make them feel safe. And lord knows Gotham could always use some help. I made a call to a contact I still had in the Navy. His name was Hank and he was a sweet older gentleman. He worked in the research and development section and he always gave my unit new gear before anyone else could even set their eyes on it. I called in a favor and asked if he could hook me up with some stuff for 'recreational purposes'. At least that is what I told him I would be doing. I didn't think running around Gotham in jeans and a sweatshirt would be a good idea. After talking to Hank he said we could meet at some of the docks in Gotham.

Later that night I made my way over to the docks. I decided I couldn't draw attention to myself and I wore a dark sweatshirt with skinny jeans and some sneakers. I met Hank exactly where he said he would be, in a corner of the docks where a dull orange light cast shadows onto the surrounding crates. "Hey Hank, how's it going?"

Hank looked up at me and for the first time since I had known him I saw a grin on his face. Usually he was surly and gruff, but the more you got to know him the sweeter he became. Despite this sweetness, he never really smiled. In his defense though, whenever we really spoke at work we talked about weapons and how much damage it could do to people and places. Not necessarily the kind of stuff you smile over. But there Hank stood, smiling at me like I was a million bucks.

"Nice to see you kid. It's been too long." Hank said.

"Yeah, you too Hank. Look, I really hate to bother you and all, especially since you could get in a lot of trouble for just talking to me. It's a big risk for you, and I appreciate it."

"It's no problem at all. I've missed you, you were my favorite out of your unit. You always respected everything I showed you and treated it properly. Those other idiots would always mess around, nearly killing themselves. So, what is it that you've called me for? I figured you would be staying underground due to your…circumstances." I didn't even want to know how Hank new about my accident. I thought that the Navy would be keeping it as quiet as they could.

"I was. I mean, I am for right now, but I don't think I can any longer. It's been months Hank. I need to go out and do something. I can't just sit around with these powers I have and not use them. I feel like now I have a responsibility to help people and keep them safe." I said all of that in one breath I stopped and took a deep one. It was nice to finally talk to someone, to let out everything that had been stirring up inside of me for weeks and months. This isn't something you can just talk to anyone about. If I told people that I had water powers they would think I was insane. I looked up at Hank, and for the second time that night Hank was smiling.

"Well, it's about time. I thought I would get a call from you ages ago. I already started making stuff for you to use. I just had to wait for your call in order to give it to you." I looked at him in disbelief. How could he know what I was going to do when even I wasn't sure what I wanted to do? "So, do you want to continue this therapy session, or do you want to see what I made you?" Hank smugly asked me.

I kept looking at him in disbelief. "You're amazing, you know that?" He just nodded. "Well, let's show me what you've got."

Hank pulled out a duffel bag. "First things first kid. You need an outfit." He pulled out what looked like a dark leotard. "This is the body of your outfit. Dark blue, to match your water powers. The material is thin and very breathable. It's also resistant to cuts and scrapes. You could have a knife go across your chest and it won't leave a mark. It is also waterproof so when you use your powers you won't be running around soaking wet." Then he pulled out some black leggings. "These are made of the same material as the top piece. I'm assuming you still have your combat boots. Those will work fine." He laid everything out on the crate that sat between us. "This is the most important item here." He pulled out a dark grey rod that was leaning against the crate. "This material is very rare and very special. As far as I know it's the only piece that has ever been recovered."

"But what exactly is it?" I asked.

"This is Aquam Petram. It's Latin for Water Rock. This rock is basically made of water, but has the feel of rock. This will allow you to use your water even if there is no water near you. You can slowly extract water from the rod and then put it back." I picked up the rod and could immediately feel the water inside. I twirled it around my fingers. The staff was about 5 feet long and very sturdy; I could probably hit one of these crates with it and it wouldn't even get a crack in it. I looked closer at the staff and saw that it had carvings of waves going around it. It was simple and subtle, and I loved it. "That's everything kid. You should have whatever else you need."

"Umm Hank, what about a mask? Shouldn't I keep my identity a secret?" Hank looked at me with a curious look on his face. Actually, curious isn't exactly the right word; his face was practically screaming 'how exactly are you so dumb?' "What?" I asked him.

"Evie, you don't really need to hide from anyone. You don't have a family to protect and the only people that know you have powers aren't going to call you out on it. I would only get them in trouble with human experimentation. I don't think you are going to need a mask." He said. "Besides, how else will all the men see your face? You're getting old, you need to start looking for someone." Hank teasingly said. I could feel my face turn bright red. Like BRIGHT red. I could probably fry an egg on my face, that's how much heat was coming off of it.

"Thanks Hank," I said. "Cause that's what I'm worried about, finding a husband." Pssh yeah, like I'm going to find someone who would be okay with dating a girl who can control water and catches criminals. 'Oh sorry honey, I can't go on a date right now, I have a world to save and bad guys to stop!' Cause that will go over really well with the men. Hank interrupted my thoughts.

"Well, I think it's time we went our separate ways, kid." I looked up at Hank and was surprised to see he had a sad look in his eyes. Almost like he didn't want me to go. I realized now that there was no turning back. I was going on my own to stop the bad guys, I couldn't have the Navy backing me up anymore. I had to do this by myself. I suddenly became unsure of my idea. How could I do this?

Hank must have understood what I was thinking and he grabbed my shoulder. "Evie, you are one of the strongest people I know. You have lost so much, and you have been given a responsibility that most people cannot even imagine. Through all of this you have still been an amazing person and your entire life you have wanted to help people. This is just another chapter in your life, and you will be just fine." I didn't realize that I had tears welled up in my eyes until they started falling. It had been so long since I had somebody tell me they believed in me and was proud of me. I hadn't hear that my parents died. I gave Hank a watery smile and attempted to say thank you, but my throat was too tight and the words wouldn't come out. Hank gave me a pat on the shoulder, another rare smile, and he walked back towards the parking lot. I stayed on the dock looking down at the outfit that was still lying on the crate. I took a deep breath, packed all of it away, grabbed my new staff, and walked towards the city lights. Let the new chapter of my life begin.

[incorrect-dying-light-quotes]

Pls tell us about Karim getting stepped on

TW for general violence

Ok so basically (sorry if this is incoherent I do all of my infodumps in greentext format so I’m trying to summarize it from that bear with me)

Karim is a whore wbk, and he’d let anyone tap, but he’s got a bit of a thing for Crane ya feel? When he first shows up at the garrison Karim is like so you’re a dumb bitch... and I’M a dumb bitch... and spends the whole time flirting with him pretty much. Ofc Crane only comes into the garrison a few times to argue with Rais and then leaves, but they keep talking over the radio. Rais overhears at some point and Beats The Shit Out Of Him and Karim is just like. damn. that shit sucks but am I gonna learn my lesson? NO lmao. Eventually he and Crane start meeting up in private and hee hoo forbidden romance except it’s not all that serious, they’re really just hanging out and occasionally they k*ss or.... or h*ld h*nds and they only really fuck once.

 Eventually someone from the garrison catches them and snitches to Rais for some good boy points, and as Karim’s heading back after a Session (tm) he sees Rais standing at the gate looking considerably more menacing than he usually does and Karim’s like ah. shit. He hops over the fence and Rais immediately starts lecturing him more frantically and angrily than usual and drags him into the courtyard by the hair like an angry grandma. 

Rais gets mad at Karim regularly and usually will give just a light punishment, and Karim’s been in the pit a few times but because Rais and everyone else actually like him they go easy on him and he always comes out fine but this time Rais is understandably fucking pissed. Rais and Tahir take him down to the pit and Karim’s just like ah this is fine. Small price to pay for america dick. 

So they get to the pit and the three of them r standing on The Platform and Karim’s surveying the pit to see how much he’ll have to try, there’s an extra container meaning more biters but they’re just biters so it’s fine right. But no it’s not fine because Rais shoves Karim in without lowering the platform first and Karim breaks his right ankle upon hitting the ground and is like AH DAMN!!!! WHTA THE FUCK !! !! !

Rais fires his gun to agitate the infected who proceed to break out of the containers, and Karim is just like ieaoefejsjkhfkehrse. He hops over on one foot to the nearest container and climbs on top of it for brief safety and is like fuck man fuck. 

Some Virals come at him first which is fine, he takes care of them all just fine by either bonking them on the head hard enough that they just cease to exist or by pushing them off the container onto the spike traps below, but the last one takes a few hits and gives Karim a bit of a hard time and scratches him up a bit but overall he comes out fine. 

Karim does the ol throw some firecrackers and light a propane tank and just blo them all up strat, which works for most of the biters and that’s great because my guy can’t fucking walk. So most of the biters die on impact, the ones who did live can’t get up and are therefore not a threat. probably. 

He gets down off of the container assuming all of the infected are dead and he gets to go back inside now but apparently not. There’s two more Virals which he takes care of, though with some difficulty cuz he’s on the ground now. 

He’s then like okay NOW I’m done right? And goes over to where Rais is standing expecting him to let him go now, but he doesn’t lower the platform at all and Karim’s like. bruh. And Rais lectures him about being a whore and betraying him one time too many yadda yadda nothing he hasn’t heard before. And then he sees someone manning the crane (heh) and drops the Demolisher Container down there and Karim is like. oh god. fuck. And picks up a shitty machete off the ground and tries to figure out what to do

The Demolisher charges out of the container and at him and he jumps out of the way, landing on his bad foot on accident and being liek OIUEAUFEHJ. He ducks behind a container because PAIN and also still trying to figure out what to do. Demolisher throws a slab of concrete at the container and Karim’s just like oaebkaebk. eoabejkab. ekabekjb. And figures he just has to be careful and take his time. So he gets up to Face It Like A Man

He fights the Demolisher as you’re supposed to, waiting for him to charge and jumping out of the way, only attacking him when he’s tired. He does fairly well, manages to break his helmet off in a few tries and only lands on his bad foot once. He backs away in preparation for the next charge, getting ready to hit him as hard as he can, but one of the biters he didn’t kill grabs his leg and pulls him to the ground.

Karim is like oh god oh fuck and tries to kick the biter away and get back up but it’s really going ham and isn’t letting go. The Demolisher charges again and Karim is like. change da world. my final message. goodb y e. And the Demolisher just steps right on him. There’s an ungodly fucking cracking sound and Karim is just UEAAEEAEAEAE. Audience is yelling. but Luckily for him the Biter let go and the Demolisher is out of breath, so Karim manages to pull himself off the ground and stumble into a nearby container while the Demolisher isn’t looking so he’s in a good hiding place for now. 

He proceeds to throw up a shit ton of blood. Like a lot. A very bad amount. And thinks he’s dying and he’s never been in this much pain in his life. He starts to panic a bit as he hears the Demolisher pacing around the pit looking for him. He somehow manages to stand up, and holy shit his fucking bones dude. ow. god damn. He throws up a bit more and then leans against the side of the container, trying to figure out what to do. The Demolisher only needed one or two good hits to the head and he’d be gone but Karim obviously was in no shape to do that. 

Karim’s like fuck it. Propane tank thing again. Because he doesn’t really have anything to do and at this point for him it’s do or die. And he sure is dying. Problem is he’s gonna have to manage to hit it hard enough and also throw it far enough which he probably can’t do. But luckily for him there’s a bundle of firecrackers right there next to him. So he figures his best bet is to lure the Demolisher behind the container, hit the tank, and roll it as hard as he can and take cover in the container, and there’s like a 30% chance the Demolisher will die instead of him. Which is better than 0%. So he’s like alright I got this. 

He lights the firecrackers and throws them a good ways away, and the Demolisher gets agitated by the sound and charges towards it. Karim picks up a pipe and uses the last ounce of his strength to hit the nozzle of the propane tank and rolls it over to him as hard as he can before ducking back inside. He lays down and covers his ears and hopes he doesn’t die. Shit goes explodey and after a few seconds he opens his eyes and is like. I’m not dead. Unless this is hell. but then he realizes it’s very quiet and he pokes his head out and sees that it’s fucking dead babey!!!!!!! he did it!!!!!!!!!! fuck yeah!!!!!!!!

So he pulls himself up and hobbles over to Rais and Tahir who are now lowering the platform. Tahir looks hella relieved that you’re even alive and Rais looks just as pissed as before with a hint of disappointment. Karim collapses in front of them and throws up some more, Rais says something he doesn’t hear bc his ears are ringing loud as hell. Probably something about how he’s disappointed you’re still alive but he’s not unfair so since you lived you’re allowed to walk out. Tahir carefully picks him up and he proceeds to pass out in his arms. 

He wakes up a few minutes later as he’s still being carried and then he realizes how cold he is and wakes up and he’s like oh. outside. boy it sure is dark out here haha what are you guys doing? Tahir gently sets him down on the grass outside the fence and Karim’s like wht. And Rais explains that if he can survive a night with the Volatiles in his current state then he’s welcome back to the Garrison, but otherwise he can get fucked. 

Karim is like god dammit as the two of them walk away and he just lays in the grass. He’s like hm . wet grass. nice feeling :^)). a bitch delirious rn. Eventually he pulls himself up and drags himself over to the front gate and talks to the guards and tries to get them to help him. He’s like I’ll suck your dick if you let me use your radio. the guard is like hell yeah and lets him use it. So he manages to contact the tower and say that he needs H E L P . 

Crane comes, guards don’t shoot him because Karim said so. Crane picks him up and carries him to the nearest secure building, not a safe house becaues the nearest one is way too far away. Crane sits down with him and tends to the few wounds he can help with and says that if he’s still alive in the morning he’ll bring his doctor over. Karim’s like ight lit. nice cock by the way and passes out again

Then the next morning Crane brings Lena over and also Karim’s ex gf Eliza who is a nurse in the Garrison shows up to help and they fix him up as much as they can and Crane ends up taking him to the tower so he can recover. the end

[emybain]

Renegades Titanic AU Part 8

happy one week away from supernova! take this flaming trash! I also really need to add links to each part on like the last five parts including this one! 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Part 8: Flying 

    It didn’t take Adrian very long to find Nova, surprisingly. He thought he was going to have to ask around, which was awkward enough, seeing as he was dressed very differently than the guests on this level of the ship and stuck out like a sore thumb. But no, soon after he hopped over the locked gate that separated first from third class, he spotted her. She was outside as well, on the third class promenade, a lit cigarette in hand that she didn’t raise to her lips once in the few minutes he stood watching her. Her back was against the railing, legs crossed at the ankles. Few people were on this part of the ship, for the deck was narrow and shaded from the sun due to part of the first class deck hanging over it. It was chilly in the shade, compared to being in the warm sun, it being only early March in the Northern hemisphere.

He approached her slowly, sensing that she wasn’t in the best of moods. Odd, considering she had seemed like she had fun the evening before. But then again, her attitude changed towards the end of the night, and she had left. Adrian blamed himself, for he had tried to kiss her and didn’t even ask if it was okay. Skies, he was an idiot. 

“Nova?” Her head jolted up at being addressed, eyes widening when they landed on him. Her surprise vanished as quickly as it came, turning into a schooled expression. Adrian took it as a cue to step closer. 

“I can’t see you,” she coolly responded, pushing her body upright and tossing the cigarette over her shoulder into the water. She moved toward him, and his heart sped up. Then she brushed past him. 

“Wait!” Adrian pivoted around and wrapped his hand around her elbow, stopping her right in front of the wall of the ship. She froze instantly, and he cursed under his breath. He let go, but his feet remained planted. “I need to talk to you. About last night, I-”

“It’s fine, Adrian.” Nova shrugged, as if she was unbothered, but the way she leaned back against the wall, away from him, suggested otherwise. “Already forgotten. Now, if you’ll excuse me-” she attempted to push past him again, but he placed his hand on her arm, not grabbing it this time. A discoloring on her cheekbone caught the light, drawing his attention. He frowned. It was a bruise, still an angry red, but beginning to purple. 

“What happened to your face?” he implored, any kindness left in his voice quickly vanishing. His mind raced to conclusions, none of them positive. Someone hit her, either a stranger, or someone she knew. And it wasn’t an accident. 

Her hand reached up to cover the marking, eyes dropping to the ground. “I ran into my bedpost this morning. Silly of me. It must’ve been the alcohol.” The lie was almost believable. Almost. But in the short time he had gotten to know her, Adrian knew Nova wasn’t the clumsy type, even if there was alcohol in her system.

“I don’t believe that.” He shook his head. “Who did it?”

Nova glared up at him. “My business is not yours, Adrian. It was an accident. Now please, kindly move your ass so I can go.” He refused to budge, instead taking in a deep breath. 

“Nova.” He paused, gathering his words. “You’re no picnic, alright? You’re stubborn and impulsive-”

“And you’re a spoiled little brat who thinks he’s entitled to whatever he wants, now move!” she interrupted. 

“But under that defensive façade,” he continued, unfazed, “you’re the most amazingly, astounding, wonderful woman-”

“Got any more adjectives, Romeo?” Nova huffed, crossing her arms. Her cheeks still reddened. 

“-that I’ve ever met.”

“Adrian, I-” She tried a different maneuver this time, turning her body and trying to squeeze through, but Adrian only followed her. She groaned softly and fell back against the wall, giving up. 

“Please, just let me try and get this out. I...you’re ama-” Adrian stopped to inhale again. This was harder than he had thought. She wasn’t going to listen if he just showered her with compliments. It didn’t surprise him. “Listen, Nova-”

“No, you listen, Everhart!” Nova raised her voice, tilting her chin up. “I’m not an idiot, okay? I know how the world works.” She searched his eyes. “I have ten bucks in my pocket and nothing to offer you, and-”

“I know that.” Adrian ran a hand through his short hair, frustrated. “I understand. I’m too involved now, though.” He dared to inch closer to her. “You jump, I jump, remember?” He eyed her bruise, eyed the way her hands fiddled with one another nervously. “I won’t let myself just turn away without knowing you’re alright. That’s all that I want,” he finished softly. And it was true. He knew he was way out of her league, just as she was way out of his. It went both ways. Clearly, they were not meant to be together, even as friends. Adrian should’ve known from the first time he spotted her, from Danna’s warning that first day. But he was selfish, and here they were now. He had to undo what he did; he cared for Nova, and couldn’t let her go without her knowing that, without her knowing that someone did. Whether or not she cared for him as well didn’t matter as long as she was distressed to be around him, whatever her reasons were. Her happiness had to come first. It was evident she had so little to begin with. 

Nova gulped, inhaled slowly. She opened her mouth, then closed it, then finally said softly, “Well, I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Really.”

“Really?” Adrian repeated, biting back a laugh. “I know where you come from, Nova. I know who you are and who you’re onboard this ship with. They don’t care about you. Not like I do.” He pointed an accusatory finger off to the side. “They’ve got you trapped, Nova, whether or not you want to believe it. It’s a little suspicious that a young woman like you is traveling with them of all people. Why?�� Nova opened her mouth to fight back, but Adrian continued on. “They’re using you, Nova. I don’t know what for, but it’s clear as day. Why else would you be so welcomed into their kind? When was the last time they let outsiders in? They’re not your family. You’re going to die if you don’t break free from them.” He swallowed, his words catching in his throat. “Maybe not right away, because you’re strong, but sooner or later,” he dropped his voice two dynamics, reaching a hand out to massage the bruise on her cheek. Her skin was smooth under his hand. She didn’t pull away, and he must’ve imagined her leaning into his touch, “that fire, that fire that I love about you, Nova, is going to burn out. You can’t keep letting them have their ways.”

Nova gaped up at him, and it took every bit of his willpower not to engulf her in a hug, to press a kiss to the top of her head and never let go. Adrian wasn’t sure what had come over him. 

“It’s not up to you to save me, Adrian.” Slowly, her hand reached up to meet his, and he began to think that maybe she was having a change of heart. 

“You’re right, only you can do that.” 

She tilted her chin up, and Adrian thought she might kiss him. He almost stopped breathing. Then she pulled his hand off of her cheek, turned her eyes back to the ground. 

“I’m going back. Leave me alone.” 

__________

Nova’s mind was a muddled mess all day. She managed to avoid the others by remaining outside with her thoughts, knowing how they all avoided being out in the open air as much as possible. Honey hated it the most, having grown up on a farm, despite never admitting to it. She loved being outdoors. 

The quiet somewhat allowed her to think. That was, it did until Adrian Everhart waltzed up and practically confessed his infatuation with her, confusing her more than ever.  

What gave him the right, anyway, to just show up around her whenever he pleased? To make her belly churn low in her stomach in a foreign way? To speak badly about the people who raised her and expect her to agree? To make her feel as if she were going crazy whenever she felt his breath on her skin. She hated it. She hated him...and his stupidly handsome face.

She thought back to her uncle, locked away in America, waiting on her. Years ago, when he was first arrested, she and his remaining followers were forced to flee or risk being imprisoned, or in her case, separated from everything she knew for forever. After Phobia and Winston were caught, it was decided that they would go to Europe, where they would be safe from the law in America. They had always planned to return when the time was right and Nova was old enough and skilled enough to carry out her mission without fail; it was only by luck that Ingrid managed to win them tickets onboard the RMS Titanic in a game of poker the night before the ship’s departure. 

But the years Nova spent in Europe were years spent in preparation. Nightmare was born in Europe, the wanted criminal that no one had been able to see clearly enough to describe an accurate photo to police. It was something she had always prided herself on. That, and of course her infamous smoke bombs she crafted with the help of Ingrid and Leroy that put her victims to sleep instantly upon inhalation. Reports in the papers always mentioned how victims had slept for up to three days, and all of them had experienced heart stopping nightmares, hence her alias. She remained unaffected by the gas because of the mask she wore over the bottom half of her face that also kept her identity a secret. 

Nightmare wasn’t just something Nova became when she was bored. No, Nightmare was simply a way for Nova to rob stores of supplies she and the others needed without being caught; she was a way for Nova to still be known to her uncle in the States, as she appeared even in American papers, to let him know that she was coming for him; she was a way for Nova to prepare to fight for her life, on the streets and in the prison where her uncle was being held. Nightmare was many things, and she was certainly a valuable asset to the others. Without Nightmare, Nova wasn’t sure how well off they would be now. 

Maybe Adrian was right. Maybe the Anarchists were using Nova. But Nova wasn’t an imbecile; whether or not she was being used, the fact that her uncle sat in a prison cell remained unchanged. He was family, after all, and even though Nova disagreed with many of his tactics, she still loved him. 

Perhaps spending time in prison had changed his person, and would help assure Nova that what she was doing was right, that it was what she wanted to do. Something itched at the back of her mind, however, a voice whispering that he was still the same man he was nine years ago; the same man filled with hatred and hunger for power. 

As the sun began to drift toward the waves, Nova made her way back inside, mind more confused now than ever. She didn’t know what she wanted anymore. Before departing Europe, she thought she wanted revenge, even if it didn’t bring her happiness. It wasn’t like she was missing out on much, seeing as the majority of her life had been a joyless hellhole that kept spiraling downward at an out of control pace, unable to be stopped or slowed down. 

She found them in the smoking room seated at a table, absorbed in the papers and maps and graphs laid out before them. Nova stood at the entrance for a moment, watching Leroy and Ingrid bicker and Honey apply lipstick on top of her already red lips. Nothing had changed since she had stormed out that morning. Did they even notice that she was gone? Or care? It didn’t matter, whatever the case. What bothered Nova the most was the realization that this had been the norm for them for nine years; ever since they escaped to Europe, it had been all about her uncle and freeing him and restoring their power, no matter the costs. Never once did they stop and take a deep breath, a short break to do something other than pointless planning. That’s all it was, really. Ace was a criminal, and criminals remained in prison. Even when they got out, law enforcement always found them. 

    But even if they failed, they would continue to use Nova as their gateway to get whatever they wanted. Always what they wanted. They were never going to stop and ask what she wanted. She was young, they would say, therefore they have to decide for her because she doesn’t know right from wrong. 

Gritting her teeth, Nova turned around and left. 

__________

        Whatever Nova was doing was sending warning sirens off in her head. Her heart was pounding; she had never chosen something for herself. This was a new terrain with endless paths. And Nova only had one in mind. 

    She snuck onto the first class part of the ship and, coincidentally, ran into Oscar and Ruby. They had been just as surprised to see Nova as she was them, but upon her quick, jumbled questioning, they shot one another a secret look and gave Nova her answer before bidding her goodbye, as they were headed off to dinner. 

    Moving quickly, as if trying to race logic, Nova made her way to the front of the ship, toward the bow. There was no one on this part of this ship, save for one person who was at the very front, looking over at the water. Taking a deep breath, Nova slowed down her pace, unable to gain control of her racing heart. She shouldn’t be here; she should be inside with the others  That’s what made this all the more thrilling. It was chillier out now, and windier. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, turning the sky a rich reddish purple. Goosebumps erupted on her skin. Wrapping her arms around herself, she inhaled a shaky breath. 

    “Hello, Adrian.”

    He spun around quickly, eyes widening when they met hers. First, surprise, then confusion, then something that made her warm inside.

    Her lips quirked up, and she looked down, feeling almost shy. Then she raised her eyes back to his and shrugged helplessly. “I changed my mind,” was her only explanation. Though it was only half true, due to her inner conflict still simmering, it felt like a weight was lifted off of her shoulders just from saying those four words. When Adrian returned the smile, his filled with relief, Nova took it as a cue to walk closer to him, coming within an arm’s width from him. “They said you might be up here,” she began, only to be gently shushed. She closed her mouth, biting the inside of her cheek and staring up at Adrian quizzically. 

“Give me your hand,” he requested, reaching forward and offering his. 

Nova did. 

He tugged her closer, just a bit, and Nova got the faintest thought that he might try to kiss her again. This time, she believed she would let him. 

“Now, close your eyes.” He squeezed her hand, the smile not faltering once. When Nova didn’t, a small bit disappointed that she was wrong, he laughed softly. “Go on,” he encouraged. 

Once again, she complied with his requests. A hand was placed on her back, between her shoulder blades. He pushed her forward, guiding her with the hand on her back and the one in hers. 

“Step up.”

Nova hesitated, and he must’ve noticed, for he helped her find her footing as well. She heard him shift behind her, sandwiching her between him and the rail. Her breath caught in her throat at the closeness. 

“Now, hold onto the railing.” He guided her where to hold steadily. She gripped the cold railing like a lifeline. “Keep your eyes closed, okay? Don’t peek.” 

“I’m not,” Nova answered quickly, attempting to sound nonchalant. 

He chuckled. “Okay. Step up onto the rail.” When she did, she let out an involuntary gasp, suddenly feeling unsteady as her hips rose above the railing. His hands found her waist from behind her, and for once, she didn’t push them away. Instead, she was grateful that they were holding her in place. “Hold on,” he teased. “Keep your eyes closed.”

Nova let out a laugh, though it was shaky. 

“Do you trust me?” His voice was in her ear, sending shivers down her arm.

“I do.”

His hands left her waist, going to her hands. He slowly peeled them from the railing, sending a slight panic through her body. She turned her head to the side, almost like she was expecting to fall, but it never came. Her body leaned back the slightest bit against Adrian for stability. He extended her arms all the way out, like wings, then returned his hands to her waist.

“Alright,” he murmured. “Open your eyes.” 

When she did, Nova let out a laugh. Before her was the open ocean, the sky, the setting sun, warm on her face. Something rushed through her, a feeling she didn’t recognize but greeted like an old friend all the same. Freedom. 

The wind whipped past her ears, through her hair, but all of her senses were centered on Adrian. This boy, this amazing boy, did this for her. He hadn’t even asked what changed her mind, or made a move on her like he had previously done. It seemed as if he just wanted her to be happy, like he had said earlier that day when she had been in a sour mood. 

Nova stretched her arms out wide, tilting her head up and basking in this new feeling. It was exhilarating, so much that Nova couldn’t help but let out another laugh. A pure, free, burst of laughter. 

From behind her, Adrian was shaking with laughter as well. His hands moved to trace her fingertips and her callouses, her scars and her palms, until they paused, interlacing with hers. He stopped laughing, suddenly, as did she. Nova felt his face tilt down into her neck, electricity shooting through her body. Slowly, he guided her arms back down, not letting go even when they were resting in front of her. She was cocooned in his arms, the heat from his body pressing into her back. She turned her head to face him, smile gone. 

It was as if a force was drawing them together, and before Nova could think twice about it, her eyes were fluttering shut and their lips connected, at first hesitant. Fire rolled through her body; she needed more. He must’ve felt the same, for he made a noise in the back of his throat and deepened the kiss. Nova shook from so many sensations at once. One hand went to the back of his head, the other tugging the one across her waist tighter, pulling him closer and closer to her, gripping tightly. 

Kissing Adrian Everhart was a feeling Nova could barely comprehend or describe. 

The only thing she could truly comprehend, other than the way his gentle caresses sent shockwaves throughout her, was how it was the first time she had ever been selfish. 

[ghostyprince]

Heii, prompt! Would you write something for 5. “Oh dear, that happens to be my idiot, isn’t it?” ? :O pleaase??

this was kind of the first thing that popped into my mind when reading this, so i hope you like it!!

dude some idiot got hurt right next to our building. i think he was trying to break into one of the apartments??

Huh, that sucks, Ryan thought, reading the text from his roommate, glad the guy got dealt with if he was actually trying to break in. He answered something in that nature and didn’t think much of it after that, settling back to continue watching the movie he put on, absentmindedly petting Micki’s head who settled into Ryan’s lap, snoring softly.

He almost completely forgot about it already, until about three to five minutes later when he got a call.

From the hospital.

Ryan’s heart rate immediately picked up, when Shane’s name was mentioned, he almost missed the details of the accident, the lady’s voice was drowned out by the sound of blood rushing into his head.

Apparently, it wasn’t anything serious, Shane broke his ankle, trying to climb a fire-escape ladder and he’s kind of drunk, so they contacted the first person on his emergency contact list, just in case. Which was Ryan, apparently? And well fuck, if that fact didn’t throw him into a loop. He let out a breath of air he didn’t realize he was holding. Shane was okay.

“Oh God, that happens to be my idiot, isn’t it?” He muttered as he remembered of the text his roommate sent. He was already getting up and leaving the cozy cocoon of his blanket to go and make sure his dumbass friend was alright. The dog let out a displeased whine, now that Ryan’s thigh he used as a pillow was gone, but he soon laid back on the couch, stealing Ryan’s spot and falling back into a deep slumber, unconcerned.

The drive to the hospital from his parent’s house was way more than an hour, so by the time he arrived at the front desk it’s been two in the morning, and Ryan was tired, but wide awake at the same time, a nervous drumming under his skin was present that couldn’t seem to go away.

Ryan saw Shane’s face actually lit up when he got escorted to the room they placed him in and fuck, his heart really liked that. What it absolutely hated though, was the sight Shane made in the hospital bed, leg propped up, and a little woozy. It hit Ryan harder than he thought it would.

He told himself it wasn’t serious, Shane was fine if the goofy smile he gave Ryan was any indication, and yet Ryan couldn’t help the anger mixed with worry bubbling up his chest and settling in his throat, forming into a heavy lump. How can Shane be so stupid? He could’ve broken his fucking neck, or hit his big noggin, dying on the spot or- Maybe that’s a little dramatic, but the thought that Ryan could’ve lost him, his stupid, weird, amazing best friend he’s been in love with for god knows how long… It killed him inside.

“You’re a dumbass. A true idiot.” He told Shane when he sank onto his bed, next to his uninjured leg.

“Well, hello to you too.” He’s still smiling, though it seemed much weaker now, that Ryan sat there, next to him and Shane could see how serious, how pissed he was.

“I can’t believe- What the fuck were you thinking, Shane?” Ryan hissed, not wanting to disturb the other people in the room, it was way too late, so he kept his voice low. Shane’s smile was gone in an instant, he lowered his gaze, suddenly very interested in the hem of his light pink button-up, running his fingers along the edge of the fabric repeatedly.

He shrugged like that’s a perfectly acceptable answer, and Ryan was ready to fucking explode on him, being late be damned. But before he could open his mouth, Shane spoke, softly, almost shyly, a perfect contrast to how he’s on locations, yelling at air that Ryan insists are ghosts.

“I missed you,” he said, and Ryan’s heart decided to melt into his stomach, just to jump up again, beating out of his chest.

“I was- I was drunk, and one second I’ve been dancing with Jen and the second I just wanted you to be there so much, but you weren’t. So I got the brilliant idea to climb in your window. I actually got mad at you for not being out with us,” the for not being with me remained unsaid. “But I still wanted to see you. It’s stupid.” Shane shrugged again, a small smile present of his lips that he probably didn’t even know about.

“And you probably know the rest. I landed on my foot when I lost my balance and fell off the fire-escape ladder. ‘Suppose it’s fair you’d call me an idiot.” He finished with a small snort and looked up to meet Ryan’s eyes, who was busy staring at him, completely dumbfounded, almost star struck even. And he couldn’t stop smiling.

“Are you still drunk?” Is what he asked when he finally found his voice and Shane rolled his eyes, frustrated.

“Maybe a bit drunk. Are you seriously ignoring everything I just said?”

Ryan takes notice of his breath hitching when Shane saw his big smile when he finally decided to look at him, and it just makes Ryan beam at him even more. All of his anger just got chucked out the window because Shane missed him. Shane missed him so much he broke an ankle trying to be with Ryan so desperately. It shouldn’t be the most romantic thing anyone ever did to him, but it sure felt like it. Still pretty stupid, though.

“You’re- You’re so fucking ridiculous, dude.” He says instead of the “I love you, so much” his brain provided, perhaps that would’ve been a little too overwhelming for both of them, just yet. The tone of it was the same though and judging by the softening of Shane’s expression, and the crinkle of his eyes Ryan loved too, he understood. He always did.

“You’re a terrible emergency contact person. You’ve done nothing but insult me ever since you got here. It’s not the treatment little ol’ me deserves. I could’ve died, Ryan!” Shane sighed, the drama queen he is. Ryan wanted to kiss the fake pout off his stupid face.

“Shut up, Shane.” Ryan wheezed, it shifted into a smile as he saw the subtle widening of Shane’s eyes and quick pass of surprise on his face when Ryan took his hand and twined their fingers together. He secretly marveled at the sight, taking delight in Shane’s big hand almost completely enveloping his own.

“Now that you mentioned it, you never told me I was your emergency contact person. Don’t you think it’s something I should know about? I almost got a heart attack when someone called me that you’re in a hospital.”

“Well, it’s you, my parents and my brother,” Shane mutters, dismissively. Like it’s no big deal. Like it doesn’t make Ryan’s insides go absolutely apeshit by the thought of just how much Shane trusts him.

“But I’m the first one.” Ryan reminded him because he just can’t let things go.

“Yeah, because my family lives in Illinois. You’re the most important person to me, who’s also the closest, location wise. Is that what you wanted to hear?” Shane raised his eyebrows, and let out an annoyed huff when Ryan nodded, no one could’ve wiped the shit-eating grin off his face. He loved getting a rise out of Shane just as much it was true the other way around.

Shane dropped his gaze, looking at their joined hands, almost in awe, Ryan noticed. Like he couldn’t quite believe it was real. Ryan felt the same, positive that couldn’t possibly have been more swooned and it was written all over his face. But it didn’t matter because it was just for Shane to see.

“Little, my ass,” Ryan muttered under his breath as he laid down a few minutes later, squeezing himself into the tight space of the bed, next to Shane, being mindful of his propped up leg. A nurse will eventually kick him out, probably, but maybe they can still enjoy a few minutes of peace like that.

He tucked his head between Shane’s shoulder and neck, so they were sharing the pillow. It got infinitely more comfortable when Shane took one for the team and slipped a hand under his body, so Ryan could fully press up against his side, a content sigh escaping his lips. They curled into a smile when he felt Shane pressing a kiss into his hair, it was a small gesture, barely there, and yet it still got his heart going like he was in a haunted house, terrified out of his mind.

“Shane?” Ryan could feel him go still, maybe thinking Ryan wanted to call him out for the kiss, he could feel him overthinking, too.

“Yeah?”

“Use the fucking door next time, you heathen,” Ryan answers, and Shane laughs, airy and relieved, the sound reverberating in Ryan’s chest, making his heart sing.

[jjwaters03]

JJxReader

Hey guys! This is my first story so don't be too hard on me. I'm high key obsessed with Obx rn and wanted to write a story about it so I hope you like it! There will be the occasional smut so be careful of that, and if you have any ideas or comments for me please let me know:)

     Chapter 1: The break-in.

With all of my experience in this difficult world I have concluded three things. 1. Love is the most powerful thing in this godforsaken universe.  2. family isn't family because of blood. and 3. surfing is fun. fun as hell. and the only thing that has the power to make me happy.

The water was cool that day, refreshing, as the cool water was accompanied by burning rays of sunshine. The salt stung my eyes in a somewhat pleasing fashion. Pattiling out and back in, jumping up onto the board, eyes on the beach. Nothing makes me happier than the sweet smell of summer and the breeze pushing my hair behind my shoulders, flying behind me. Usually, not a thing in the world could take my attention away from the droplets of a water landing on my warm skin, but that day, that day was different.

He walked down the beach. Alone. He usually was with his friends. Grey crew neck, backward red cap, and large sunglasses. My eyes tracked him across the beach until my lack of attention caused me to fall off the board and dive under the water. The ocean rushed across my body until the cord attached to my board pulled my ankle back up. I turned my body and pushed myself to the surface. My head broke through the surface and I took a much-needed breath. I smiled and laughed at myself. A wipeout because of a boy, both funny and pathetic.

I paddled into shore and stepped onto the beach. The soft smooth sand under my feet. I looked around for the boy in the red cap. That's what I called him every time I saw him pass by, because though he seemed popular amongst other pouges I've never spoken with him in person.

I shook my head and jogged back to my bag. I took out my towel and patted myself down. I laid it out and sat down to put my long brown hair into two braids and let them fall down my shoulders. I put on my own forest green snapback and throw on one of my dad's old faded red tee-shirts. It was almost like a dress on me.

I headed back to my house, the old abandoned remnants of what was once a kooks villa. From what I know about my beloved "home" some rich families used to come galavant around the beach and get drunk of their asses. I guess they just stopped coming, probably found another beach to pollute. I shouldn't be too worried though, it's benefiting me.

I hide my board under the porch and cover the entrance with vines and leaves. I then climb up the trellis and hop into the window I always leave propped open. Once in I looked upon the fort I have created for myself over the past month and a half. I sat down and flipped through my copy of "The Hunger Games" gifted to me by my mom. I miss her, I miss them.

There was a point where my life seemed perfect, but that point in my life ended as soon as the fire started that fateful night. My father in his study with a lit candle fell asleep and knocked it over. All the papers all the books lit, the fire spread to all of the rooms, to my parents, to my sister, and to my brother. I was at a friend's house that night, a friend who was no help to me after the accident. I was put in the system, brought to a family here, the OBX. Turns out my foster home was really just a punching bag convention. My foster "parents" would just get drunk, hit me, and collect the checks. So I left. I get a small cut of the money they get if I show up once a year for the DCS meeting and smile and be the perfect child. Being on my own kind of sucks, no one to talk to and no one to share memories with, but I guess this is just life for me now.

A siren soon snapped me out of my internal rant. A small sound that grew louder and louder and louder until it faded away, making me wonder what was the cause, and when they will find the said cause. Soon scratches at the window began. I quickly ran out the door of the small bedroom I was living in, and I watched through the crack as 5 teenagers slid through the window.

"John B, that was crazy!" scream whispered a beautiful blond-haired girl. As she walked further into the room he followed her and affectionately grabbed her waist and smiled at her. Their display of affection was jokingly gagged at by two other people. A curly-haired girl who I recognized as Kiara. Her father fed me a few months ago when I was at my worst. She was very kind to me. The other was another pouge, the smart kid who I shared a class with a few months back. My attention was then drawn to the fifth invader of my room, who was lighting a blunt.

"Are we just going to ignore the fact that someone has been living here?" said the guy who I then realized to be the boy in the red cap. "Holy shit," said John B. As he started to move around and peer through my things.

That is when I slowly opened the door and said: "could you maybe not do that?" All eyes turned to me. "What are you guys doing here anyway? Was that siren for you?" There was silence until the boy with the red cap stepped towards me, so close I could tell he smelled of weed and saltwater. It was a good smell. "Well princess" he started "we could be asking the same question. What are you doing here? Because from what I can tell you aren't pouge, your not quite kook ether. You are very pretty though" He said as he mockingly tucked a strand of hair that had fallen out of my braids behind my ear. I scoffed "Well princess" I returned "by the looks of it you're standing on my bed, in my room, in my house. So I don't have to answer to you" he laughed, as I did my best to hold my smirk. "Ahh yes your floor bed, very menacing. Well to indulge you, apparently, trespassing is extremely frowned upon these days." "id say so," I interrupted. He placed his finger over my lips and tisked. "I wasn't finished, princess. And as trespassing gets more frowned upon the cops get more whiney. Thought we could chill in an abandoned house till it blew over."

One of the others stepped forward. "Hello, I am Pope. We really don't mean to intrude but if it is anyway possible for us to wait here for about twenty more minutes, we can get out of your hair." I smiled at him. "Well Pope, its really okay just maybe not go through my stuff," I said as I turned my head to the one called John B. "Sorry" he replied to my pointed look. I moved to the window and sat on the ledge. "So your strategy for hiding from the cops because you were trespassing, was to trespass?" I smiled. "Yeah, I guess that might have not been the best idea" The blond-haired girl laughed as she came to sit down next to me. "I'm Sarah" "Lily" I responded.

"So its John B, Sarah, Pope, Kiara, and...." I continued. "JJ" the boy with the red cap finished. "and though Lily fits you, I think I prefer Princess..Princess." "Oh get a room JJ" John B Joked. I smiled. "So how have you been Lily" Kiara stepped closer and asked. "Better," I said quietly "thanks"

We sat around the room and talked for a while. Light-hearted things, like surfing, favorite foods, and birthdays. Eventually, as the night grew darker and the stars filled the sky, JJ turned to me and said "so Kegger tomorrow night?" and as I smiled and nodded yes I realized for the first time, in a long time, I didn't feel alone.

[groundzerobakugo]

not as it seems // k. bakugou

  gender in this imagine will be female. if you wish for me to create this with male or genderneutral pronouns please feel free to send a message my way! i would be happy to help!

also, i’m kinda getting like, film noir detective kinda vibes??? so imma write half of this as like, journal entries and the other half as actual scenes. i changed a few things around to allow myself better wiggle room, i hope you don’t mind! you may have just broken my writers block w this prompt!

((words or phrases with an asterisk* will have their definitions written at the end))

...

23 february // tokyo

  it’s late and the rain’s coming down hard, but i can’t sleep. i’ve been hired by local police because there’s been talk of a strange beast that lurks at night, leaving victims with little to no blood left. civilians are passing it off as animal attacks, but i have reason to suspect this is the work of a vampire. however, i haven’t seen a vampire move like this in a long time. not since nagoya five years ago, back when i was still an apprentice.   this vampire doesn’t seem to hunt often, about once every other week, never the same day. they switch it up, too, there’s no link with any victims that i’ve uncovered yet.    victim one; twenty-something male. brown eyes. blond hair. a college graduate about to take over for his father’s law firm. described as a likable and easy-going guy engaged to the daughter of another larger firm. no known motive. found in marunouchi.   victim two; forty-two female. blue eyes. dark hair. single mother with three kids. worked at a  menial convenience store as a clerk. kids have gone into government care and don’t want to talk to visitors. found in tsukiji.   victim three; thirty-six year old male. green eyes. dark hair. ex-convict, charged with third-degree murder and vehicular manslaughter. no living relatives. found in shinjuku.   victim four; a seventy-eight year old male. dark eyes. dark hair. grandfather with three grandchildren, one from each daughter. described as gentle and a humorous soul. found in roppongi.   this case is already giving me a headache. no links aside from each body found in a separate district of tokyo, no pattern found between locations. this vampire may be the smartest i’ve encountered. my only wish is to have my predecessor to help me. i’ve sent word, but with him training another potential hunter, i’m left to solve this case on my own.

  (last name, first name).

-

07 march // tokyo

  the vampire has claimed yet another victim. a twenty-two year old female; dark eyes. blond hair. a wannabe fashion blogger in harajuku. her friends said she was finishing up some side work at her job and they called authorities after victim hadn’t posted to social media in two days.   i thought i could solve this case without the help of intense magic, but with the way things are progressing, i have to use all necessary skills to save the innocent lives being slaughtered. i hate cases with so much blood, it makes me uneasy. may the gods help me solve this quickly so my eyes don’t have to see another gruesome crime scene photo for another few months.   to think something that used to be human could do such actions against something they’d once been. does vampirism isolate the mind so far that you’re okay with cutting up and draining innocent souls? it’s revolting to think about.   i will be visiting the past scenes tomorrow, do some magic canvassing, see if i can get a picture of this vampire to track him down. looks like more sleepless nights ahead.

  (last name, first name).

-

  you moved quietly down the alley, fingertips brushing against the brick walls as a low blue glow followed your touch. the glow spread throughout the alley, and you stopped just before where the body had been found. you gagged at the dried blood that caked the pavement, but you swallowed and took a deep breath.

  “in oculis de mortuus.”*

  the scene before you changed as you made contact with the dried substance, a blue glow swirling and changing the scene into a dark alley, lit faintly only by street lights and the waning moon. your stomach flipped as you felt yourself fly through the air. the first victim was thrown down the alley from the sidewalk. you cried out, the world around you turning black. though, he wasn’t dead yet, he still had a faint pulse. you were still in his last moments.

  “please, please, it wasn’t what it looked like!” you heard his voice echo, your mouth moving in time.

  “that’s what they all say,” a gravelly voice replied. you turned, vision hazy as you saw the tall silhouette of your killer.

  “no! i promise i won’t do it again, please, don’t kill me!”

  “promises, promises. you humans love to fucking lie through your teeth, calling it promises. tried that shit once, asshole didn’t last a week. now, quit fucking begging, it won’t help.”

  you screamed, feeling as through your body had been lit aflame as the vampire’s teeth entered your neck, claws digging deep into your skin.

  your legs jellied underneath you, and you collapsed onto the floor, breathing hard as the scenery returned to normal. every inch of your body ached, screamed at you, with every movement. you could feel the slight trickle of blood slip down your lip, and you wiped it away.

  as much as you wanted to go home, you couldn’t. there were four other scenes to see, four other victims’ last moments to search through.

#

 you limped your way down the street, body aching and bruises; you were covered in fresh scars, and the bloody nose had yet to stop since the third victim. the sun had long since dipped behind the horizon, the full moon illuminating your path along with the street lights. people no longer ignored you, as the blood soaking your shirt and jeans caused many to stare in horror.

  every gentle breeze felt like ice-hot fire burning your skin, and you could feel the few burns on your arms and chest ache under your shirt. you’d never encountered such horrid and painful last moments before you began your hunt for the vampire. most were emotionally calm, having been elders who made their peace, but the few painful ones were small children victims of hit-and-runs or freak accidents.

  your neighbor shot you a worried glance, eyes widening at the sight of you.

  “(last name), are you alright?” kirishima eijirou asked.

  but upon seeing the ruby red eyes, your breath hitched in your throat, and you flinched away from his touch. “sorry, kiri-kun, just... rough day at work.”

  his face showed no hurt, and instead he gave you a soft smile. “i know how that is. rest easy, if you need anything don’t hesitate to ask.”

  “thank you,” you mumbled, returning the smile, though only partially.

  he stayed in the hall just long enough to make sure you could get into your apartment, and then he gave you a wave before heading back into his own place. you two shared an odd neighborly relationship, often times only seeing one another in passing. he was some sort of detective for another district’s force, you knew that much, but as you wouldn’t want him knowing your line of work, you never asked specifics of his.

  as much as your tired limbs had wanted to just clamber into bed, you pulled up a chair at your desk and flipped open your notebook.

08 march // tokyo

  i have never experienced so much pain and regret reliving a victim’s last moments as i have today. i may have overdone it; there are so many physical wounds it feels as though i lived through each one personally. being thrown into an alley, shoved through glass, dropped from a twenty story building, slammed against a wall, twice might i add, and sliced open what feels like a million and one times. i’ll need to recover for a few days before continuing to collect evidence and tracking down the killer.   however, the pain wasn’t for nothing. i finally found a recurring pattern. it’s not much to go off of, but every victim was begging for their life and saying they’ll never do it again. what ‘it’ is, i still don’t know. perhaps this is a beast come to take revenge on a group of people who did something. though, two young adults, two middle-aged people, and an elderly person? something doesn’t add up. what would such a strange group beg for their lives for? what did they promise to never do again? in a few days, i’ll interview the ones who had family members, see if they had any contact with any other of the victims.   my predecessor has finally replied. he didn’t say much, but he said this case was chosen specifically for me; maybe there’s something in this case i’m missing, but so far it seems unsolvable. i’m missing something, and while i need another, i don’t wish for another victim to give me that needed piece to my puzzle. he sent his regards, as well as the newbie. he seems sweet, but maybe too sweet to get into this line of work.   now to make a special brew of restituo and hope i can be up and about before this vampire claims a sixth victim.

  (last name, first name).

  you closed your journal and looked out the window, into the night. you had about eight days until you calculated your vampire striking once again. eight days to solve this puzzle and save a life.

#

  you walked with a slight limp, a crutch under one arm. five days later, not even your restituo serum could heal all the wounds inflicted. there was always a price with magic; and it looked as though the fates were having you ride out your twisted ankle like a mortal to punish you for peering into so many painful last moments. it was to be expected, but you hated the limited mobility.

  it was the thirteenth of march, only a few days left until you suspected the vampire would hunt down another innocent. they knew of one thing in their miserable immortal lives: to hunt down humans and drain them of blood.

  at least, that was what your predecessor had told you. that was the first line in the vampirism textbook you read back in middle school, when he’d first taken you under his wing. that was what you remembered when a vampire had claimed your parents’ lives.

  you huffed to yourself and leaned up against a brick wall, elevating your foot slightly off the ground. 

  maybe that was why your predecessor had given you every vampire case that had filtered into the agency. you’d been hunting them since before you graduated high school; taking revenge on the single vampire that had murdered your kindhearted parents for no reason, by killing everyone you came across.

  an itch crawled across your skin, and you looked up, making eye contact with hard, crimson eyes. they stared at you from across the street, cars passing in between the collision of crimson and (eye color). you stood straight and adjusted your crutch back under your arm. he stared you up and down, only the faintest of smirks stretching across his face.

  a large bus flew down the street, and when it had passed, the man was gone.

  your brow furrowed, and you blinked. there was something familiar about that smirk, those crimson eyes. you pulled out your small notebook and jotted down the description of the man.

  tall. medium build. red eyes. light hair. wearing a black hoodie, black jeans, and black boots. handsome.

  you looked back across the street, the itch still there and the healed burns aflame once more. a haunting through crossed your mind, and you thought back to the vampire you’d seen in each final moment.

  that man had to be your vampire.

  #

16 march // tokyo

  if all of my calculations are correct, that bloodsucker's on the hunt once more. there are several districts i've yet to comb through, but i believe i've tracked its next spot in kanda. i've placed several charms throughout the district to alert me when its on the prowl, but i've got a bad feeling about tonight.   i'm going to head down to the station, see if there's been any sightings of the vampire recently, see if i can narrow his location down in the district. if not, i may have to use more magic to track down the son of a bitch, however it may prove daunting. since using the spell to see the final moments of the vampire's victims, i've yet to be able to reach my full capability again. after this is all over, i'll have to recharge myself, take a vacation some place.   it's almost dark and i have to get ready. may the fates help me tonight.

  (last name, first name).

-

  you strolled around the bustling city streets with your hands in your pockets. there was still a slight limp, but you no longer needed the help of crutches to get around. even without magical help, you still healed faster than the average human mortal--perks of being a witch. though, it still hurt to walk on.

  the temperature had dropped considerably since the sun had hidden itself away until the next day; the city lights turning on and illuminating the streets and neon signs coloring the buildings you passed with reds and blues and greens.

  if this had been a different night, one where you weren't hunting down a murderous vampire, you might have found yourself enjoying the quiet walk. you'd have brought the small camera gifted to you and taken a few scenery shots. perhaps you'd find a small ramen shop and people-watched from the window, striking up conversation with the owners. but it wasn't that kind of night. you'd have to return another day to do that.

  an itch you felt a few days before crawled across your skin once more, and you looked up. it was hard to tell in the dark, but you scanned the crowd for any sign of your suspect; tall, blond, most likely in a hoodie and jeans. but you kept walking, the itch never leaving you as you continued in the same direction.

  you moved passed business men and the odd twenty-something year old couples, none shifting their gaze your way, and to those who did, you offered a small smile and continued on with your hunt. you walked by a small ramen shop, one that smelled of fresh pork broth and sizzling chashu. nothing special about it, but there was an itch; one that made your skin feel as though you'd lit yourself aflame.

  you stopped and peered into the shop. nothing out of the ordinary stood out to you, you couldn't even see anyone who somewhat resembled your vampire. you stepped into the shop, maybe there was someone you missed.

  "irasshaimase!" someone called from the kitchen.

  you flashed them a polite smile and scanned the restaurant once again. however, while you hadn't seen the blond you were tracking, you recognized a familiar redhead sat at the bar.

  "kiri-kun?" you called out.

  the redhead looked up and looked at you. "(name)? i didn't know you came here."

  "uh, first time," you said, taking another look around. "actually kind of, well, working right now."

  "oh, nice! you on break?" he asked.

  "not really," you replied, still checking out the patrons of the shop. "uh, have you by chance seen a blond guy, decently tall, red eyes?"

  kirishima hesitated. "uh, n-no? why?"

  you turned to him. "veritatum dicere," your hand made contact with his shoulder, and you watched the blue glow travel across his skin. "i'll ask again, have you seen him?"

  "bakugou, he-he's grabbing his meal, just out back." you let go of his shoulder and watched as kirishima's face fell. "(n-name), it's not what you think."

  you gave him a sympathetic smile. "sorry, kiri-kun, but it's my job. subsisto." and with that, you hurried out the front door and slipped into the alleyway that led to the back of the ramen shop. but just as you hit the back alley, a body crashed into yours.

  a girl, no older than fifteen, stared up at you with frightened eyes. there were fresh bruises lining her uncovered shoulders, shirt torn to smithereens and one shoe missing from her feet. your blood ran cold.

  "are you alright?" you asked, gripping her by the shoulders to steady her. "who did this to you?"

  tears formed at her waterline, and she looked over her shoulder. you followed her gaze into the darkness and nodded.

  "go home, get some rest, file a police report in the morning," you said, looking into her eyes. "you'll be okay."

  she didn't reply; she only nodded and then left the alleyway, stumbling over her feet as she rushed away from the scene. that vampire would pay for his crimes.

  you looked back to the darkness, your jaw set. "fata protegas me." the glow encompassed your body and you stepped further into the alley.

  "let go of me!" a man shouted. "it wasn't what it looked like!"

  you stopped. that... that didn't sound like your vampire.

  "right," a familiar voice scoffed. "i just so fucking happened to come across what looked like a fifty year old pervert fucking raping a fifteen year old girl. now, you can either beg for your life and prolong this shit, or you can keep your shit quiet and die quickly."

  what?

  "wa-wait! don't kill me! i'll do anything!"

  you crept alongside the wall, peaking from the cover of a dumpster.

  there he was; your blond vampire in his hooded jacket. he was holding a rather large man against the wall, while said man struggled against his hold. your eyes widened. wait, what...? did... did the vampire save the human girl?

  the blond sneered at the man. "it's your kind of people that makes me glad i'm no longer fucking human. you're the scum of this shitty earth."

  no, vampires had no humanity. the moment a human's mind changed from mortal to immortal, they lost their moral compass to the fever. it was impossible for a bloodsucker to think like a human. your teachings, your experiences, your cases; you'd never encountered a killer who was able to decipher who was good and who was bad. it was all a gray area, a free for all.

  "no! no, please!" the man pleaded. "i-i'll change!"

  the blond tsked. "no. you won't. maybe you'll be better in another damn life, but this one's over."

  you cringed upon hearing the man's cries and the sound of teeth shredding skin, a faint metallic scent permeating the air. he... that vampire... saved that girl? it couldn't be.

  you stood shakily from behind the dumpster, eyes hesitantly turning to face the vampire. his teeth were embedded into the man's neck, claws deep into his chest as he drank greedily. you stepped out of the shadows, head feeling foggy as you saw the blood.

  the blond noticed you from the corner of his vision and momentarily stopped.

  “i don’t understand,” you muttered. “you had an easy target, hell, two easy targets. and you went for this one?”

  he rolled his eyes. “i don’t kill innocents.”

  “you don’t... what? but-but you’re a bloodsucker,” you argued. “vampires... vampires don’t have the rationality for that.”

  he stepped away from his victim, using the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe off some of the blood from his chin. “would you rather me a fucking mindless killer? would that make this shit better or something?”

  your eyes widened. “no! no, i... i’m just so confused. you-you’re supposed to be the monster, vampires are always the monsters.”

  his boots echoed as he walked up to you, the crimson seeming even more vibrant than you remembered. “not this time, dumbass. like i said, i don’t kill innocents.”

  you took a step back, nose wrinkling at the stench of human blood coming from his mouth. “but the others? what did they do?”

  “they were damn criminals. extortion, robbery, homicide,” the blond said. “now, if you don’t fucking mind, i was kind of in the middle of something.”

  you looked at his victim, mind spinning slightly as you remembered the final moments you witnessed, the pain you felt time and time again as you suffered firsthand at the hands of the vampire. every bone in your body felt as though it was breaking once more.

  (eye color) met with crimson, glassed over with pain. “i thought you were the worst kind of monster. how you could just end an innocent human life with so much suffering on their part. i was ready to obliterate you the moment i saw you. i thought you were a villain.”

  he scoffed. “well, i fucking ain’t. sorry to burst your damn bubble.”

  “i--”

  “bakugou!” someone shouted. “bakugou! dude, are you okay?!”

  you turned on your heel, surprised to see kirishima running up to you two.

  “i’m fine, shitty hair,” the blond, bakugou, grumbled.

  the redhead slowed in his step as he neared. “i... i thought she was going to kill you, bro.”

  you nodded. “i was, but then i realized he wasn’t who i thought.”

  bakugou scoffed. “you couldn’t kill me even if you tried. you’re a mortal.”

  “i’m a witch, actually,” you replied. “near mortal, but still strong enough to kill you and others like you.”

  kirishima’s eyes widened. “that’s why i told you where he was? why i couldn’t move after you left?”

  “you fucking what?!” bakugou growled at the redhead.

  you placed a hand on bakugou’s shoulder. “caput frigus.” the muscles under your hand relaxed into the blue glow, and bakugou’s glare lessened some. “it wasn’t his fault.”

  the blond grumbled a bit. “fine, whatever. now, if you’ll fucking excuse me, i’ve got something to finish up.” he cast another red-eyed glare your way before stomping to the bloody victim.

  “he’s not as rough if you get to know him,” kirishima said. “he can be kinda nice, when he wants to be.”

  you spared a glance at the vampire, sucking out the last few drops of blood from the victim. “i’m sure. i, uh, i should actually get going. i need to wrap up my case.”

  “are you sure? we could give you a ride?”

  “that won’t be necessary,” you replied. “but thank you.”

-

17 march // tokyo

  it turns out nothing was as it seemed. the vampire, who i thought was the villain the whole time, the monster, he was actually the savior. all those people he killed were actually criminals. still not too sure what the did, but for some reason i believed him, like i had no reason to distrust his judgement. after all, i saw him save a fifteen year old girl today from being raped.   i don’t have much time left in tokyo. all might wants me back home in a few days, which hardly leaves me anytime to explore the city as i wish. but at least i was able to wrap up the case without any innocent lives lost. i’m just thankful i was wrong for once, that a vampire had some decency left in him to target a certain group of people. though, it doesn’t excuse he was still killing human beings, i feel there should be some exception to my code.   that being said, i still need to stay sharp out there. knowing so many human beings could be so monstrous to their own kind, it makes me want to change my profession from supernatural work to entering the human justice system. perhaps be like the vampire anti-hero. bakugou. i wonder if i’ll ever see him again while i’m out hunting.   maybe someday. after all, he was kinda cute, if i do say so myself. however, until then, i still have a job to do.

  (last name, first name).

  you looked out the window, the sun just beginning to set once again. after hunting vampires for so many years, your sleeping habits adjusted to their own nightlife hours. you hadn’t seen a rising sun in quite some time.

  you stood from your desk and stretched for a moment, hearing your bones crack and pop from the movement. you padded your way into the kitchen and pulled out a noodle cup from the cupboard. it wasn’t much, but you very seldom had the time to create an actual dish.

  with the kettle on, you turned towards the living room, oblivious to the crimson eyes watching you from your patio.

  bakugou watched as you moved about your tiny apartment; his eyes were calculating, trained on every little movement you made within the space. it wasn’t long until he noticed the small limp to your left leg, or how if you stretched your arm too far your face scrunched up ever so slightly. and he didn’t miss the faint marks on your neck--the same spot he bit into with every victim, the right side, just below the jawline where it gave him perfect access to the jugular vein.

  he’d heard of witches and wizards with powerful magic, ones who took on the jobs as supernatural hunters in the modern age; hearts set on keeping humanity safe within its modern times. witches were the clean up crew of the supernatural realm. set to keep humanity blind to all they could never understand.

  he’d heard of such powerful magic that witches and wizards could relive the past moments of the dead, though not without sacrifice. he’d witnessed them give their lives just to see the past, unable to come back to their physical selves if the situation was too agonizing. and upon seeing your wounds, bakugou realized you were one of those witches.

  hesitant, but only for just a moment, he knocked on the glass door, hiding in the shadows.

  your brow furrowed upon hearing the knock. was there someone on your patio? had all might sent for someone to grab you already? was deku there to take you back home?

  you peeled back the curtain, jumping when you noticed crimson eyes staring back at you, and you slid open the door.

  “what the hell are you doing on my patio, bloodsucker?!” you hissed, mostly from the fear of finding the blond rather than someone from your home.

  his eyes narrowed. “oi, i’m the only one giving out fucking nicknames, shitty witch.”

  you glared. “i’ll ask again, what are you even doing here?”

  “that’s none of your damn business,” he replied.

  “so you just thought it would be fun to scare the shit out of me?” you asked. “how kind of you, bakugou.”

  he scoffed but was interrupted by the screaming kettle before he could reply.

  you hurried back inside and poured the boiling water into the cup, carefully setting the hot kettle back onto the stove. when you turned around, bakugou was glaring at the noodles from the entryway of your patio.

  “what? did you want one or something?” you asked, eyeing him eyeing your cup.

  he glared. “as fucking if. that shit’s disgusting.”

  “it’s all i’ve got,” you shrugged. “i can’t cook, and i don’t have money to go out and buy dinner every night.”

  “you can track down shitty vampires day in and day out and learn and memorize advanced spells and shit, but you can’t fucking cook?” the blond asked, skeptical. “fuck it. i’m gonna have to teach you then.”

  you laughed. “not too sure how you’re gonna do that in two days.”

  he looked at you. “you’re leaving tokyo?”

  “well yeah, case solved. i get to go home and begin another one,” you replied. “i travel all over japan to solve supernatural crimes, it’s my job, and while tokyo has some pretty bad ones, my predecessor is who choses them for us.”

  “oh.”

  you looked over at the blond. “i’ll probably be back someday though, maybe even this year. you could teach me then?”

  “as long as you don’t come back to kill me.”

  you laughed aloud. “then it’s official then. i come back, you teach me how to cook. deal?”

  “fucking deal,” the vampire replied.