#no beta no editing we die like men

[dragonsongmakhali]

Send 🕳 to see them somewhere they really don’t like to be.

Of all places, it had to be Coerthas.

More specifically, it had to be the arse-end of nowhere in the frigid Western Highlands, so far from civilization that she was more likely to run into a polar bear than a person. Not that said civilization had been all that welcoming to a woman who bore a marked resemblance to the creatures they had been at war with for hundreds of years, but at least they had fires.

Though she had to survive most of the year in the high peaks of her homeland, Makhali detested the cold and the memories it ushered forth. Whenever her travels brought her to the frozen lands of Coerthas, she could never bundle up quite enough to withstand the biting temperatures without shivering like a wet coerl, something she hadn't been able to stop doing since she left Falcon's Nest. The winds whipped around the diminutive Auri woman, and for a moment she was transported back to her childhood in the Tail mountains, feeling her mother's grip on her shoulder as she was forcefully turned away from Samga's inert form lying half-buried in the snowfall. Her parents had been quick to find her, but not quick enough - there were times where she could still see her best friend's eyes frozen open, forever gazing up at Nhaama, as if begging for an answer to her suffering. Did she ever get one? Was there even one to be had?

Makhali shook her head to clear her thoughts, letting out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. A contract was a contract, and leaving one unfulfilled would lead to a reputation. The gale could bluster all it wanted - she would not be known as a coward.

After all, she had survived worse.

[wildmtthyme]

Chapter 2: The New Girl

Warnings: None?

Chapter Note: All phone "screenshots" are of Soap's phone.

Chapter Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, Morgan "Indiana" Turner, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John "Soap" MacTavish, John "Bravo 6" Price, Stacy

Story Synopsis: Ghost and Indiana have been best mates for years, partners on and off the field. And she's loved him for just as long. But she's never let on that she's felt anything more than friendly towards him. That all starts to change when Simon starts seeing someone for longer than a single night. Indie decides she's going to try and get over this annoying crush once and for all. Simon realizes that maybe he's been feeling more for his partner than he thought. Maybe a lot more. Partners to lovers with a sprinkling of smut, some fun and humor, a team that won't leave them alone, and a car that seems to weave it all together.

Soap’s eyes widened and he nearly choked on the swallow of beer that he’d just taken. Gaz wore a look of concern as he clapped him on his back. Dude… Soap was busy pointing but also kind of trying to not make it overly obvious… leave it to Gaz to turn nearly all the way around though to see what the hell had gotten Soap so worked up. Soap groaned when Gaz did that, jerking his shoulder to get him to turn back to their table. Ghost had just walked in with the same woman that they’d seen him leave with last weekend. “Hey, LT!” He tried to make his voice not sound shocked and he thought maybe he pulled it off but the strange look Indie shot him from her spot at the bar made him painfully aware that he hadn’t done so. He blinked when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

Simon cleared his throat pointedly, shooting Soap a glare as he approached the table, feeling his nerves double down on him. The feeling of the woman slipping her hand into his nearly made his skin crawl but he forced that knee-jerk reaction away, knowing that there was absolutely nothing wrong with a little PDA and that maybe she was feeling a little nervous herself. “Soap, Gaz… ‘member Stacy.” Gaz nodded enthusiastically and Soap stood up to offer his hand to shake. Aye, nice ta see ya again, lass. He glanced over at the bar to see Indie and Price, catching a strange look in his friend’s eye made him tilt his head at her but she quickly shook him off and refocused her attention on the bartender. Uh yeah, you’re the one who was betting my Simon that you could beat him at pool, right?

Price narrowed his eyes slightly as he looked over the newcomer at their table, his fingers absentmindedly fiddling with one of the bar napkins as he waited with Indie for their orders. She’d turned around a little quicker than necessary, making him glance at her but his attention stalled. She had this kind of… stunned look on her face that was… only a little different than he normal just… resting expression. He flicked his eyes back over to this apparent ‘Stacy’ where she was having her chair pulled out for her by Ghost… back to Indie’s face… back… forth… again… before he felt like someone knocked him over the head with a two by four that had been standing next to him for the past four years. Shit… he thought just as the bar tender was setting down the two trays laden down with their drink and snack orders. For a heartbeat, Indie didn’t reach for the tray she was responsible for… for a heartbeat… he thought she wasn’t going to. Then… just like the impeccable soldier she was, that look was gone like it had never been there in the first place. C’mon Price, holdin’ up the line. She said simply, grabbing the tray of beers and returned to the table. He made quick with the tray of pub fair.

Morgan felt like… she was sinking. That’s what it had felt like in that moment. Like the one time she’d been knocked off of a boat during a mission with all her gear on and for that moment, she’d sunk like a fucking rock. She’d had to struggle against her vest’s buckles in order to get it off so she could kick her way back to the surface, back to the air. And it felt just like that. For a moment… her lungs refused to draw in fresh air. For a moment… it was like… she was just under water. Before she finally broke through the surface and forced herself to push it down, lock it in a box until later… when she wasn’t in front of so many fucking people. Preferably when she wasn’t in front o anyone. She set the tray down on the table and offered the woman… Ah! Indie, this ‘ere’s Stacy. Soap said it with a shit-eating grin. She offered Stacy a small tight-lipped smile. “Didn’t know you were comin’, love. Want me to grab you a beer or…” She led on, hoping her voice wasn’t coming out too… fake sweet sounding?

Simon’s brow furrowed beneath his mask at the odd pitch of Indie’s voice. He’d never heard her sound quiet like that before… maybe that was just how she sounded when she talked to other women? Hell, he didn’t know. Oh! Um… a martini would be great! He leaned back in his chair after he grabbed a beer off the table once Indie had deposited them all, nodding to Price when the man came up with his tray. “Mmm- Price, Stacy – Stacy, Price.” He gestured between them and nodded again when Price shook her hand, feeling about ten million kinds of awkward. He glanced over his shoulder, watching as Indie stood at the bar waiting on Stace’s drink instead of just coming back over here to wait with them. So, Stacy, you in the service? Simon looked back at Price so fast that he felt an actual twinge fly up the side of his neck. Stace giggled and shook her head at the supposedly silly question. Oh! Heaven’s no! I’m a hair stylist.

Price blinked as Gaz nearly choked on his own spit? He raised a sharp brow at the man who just shook him off. “Hnn. Well, someone’s gotta do it, I suppose.” He said quietly, his gaze flowing over the bar before landing back on Indie as she approached, being mindful not to spill the woman’s drink. Hereeee ya go. She set the stemware down in front of her before taking her own seat and taking a longer than necessary swallow of her beer. The awkward silence stretched… Gaz and Soap were focused on their phones (rude) and Ghost was just leaning back in his chair, arm perched on the back of a quickly looking bored Stacy’s chair. Meanwhile… Indiana was finding the corner of her napkin extremely interesting. The muscles on his upper lip flexed, his mustache flaring before he slapped his knee. “Indiana.” The woman’s eyes snapped to him, her spine stiffening. “C’mon.” He kicked his chin towards the back of the pub. “Let’s play a round.”

Morgan’s expression was… bewildered, to put it kindly. She even tapped her chest with her index finger as Price climbed to his feet. “Uh… ye… yessir.” She followed, shooting questioning glances over her shoulder at Soap, who was looking at her with equal confusion. Price never played pool… never mind with her. She walked up to the table, the fact that it was empty wasn’t unusual given the time but watching Price chalk the pool que was. You rack. She nodded and did as instructed, still feeling like she was in the twilight zone.

Simon kept glancing over his shoulder to check on Indie and Price… while still nodding to Stace every so often. She was telling him some story about one of the women she worked with, Tina – not that he particularly cared but it was clearly important enough for her to talk about so he remembered the major points. He had just refocused on her and the way Soap had started prompting her, getting her to elaborate more when he heard Indie’s hoot and Price make his trademark overly loud groan. He looked again… chewing on the inside of his cheek as he watched Indie gesture in a victorious manner at Price and Price wave her off with a broad grin. What the hell was going on? He was in an episode of the twilight zone or something! Price didn’t play pool and since when did he start singling Indie out for anything other than to brief about a solo op?

Soap batted his lashes at Stacy, scrunching his nose and chuckling at parts of her story… he wanted to know every juice detail. He had to! He had to know everything about this woman if she was going to be the LT’s girlfriend. Which, she had to be because why else would she be here?! Any ammo she could give him, he wanted! Maybe she could give you a haircut. Gaz chimed in. Soap growled behind his grin. “You watch yer fookin’ mouth, boyal.” This prompted Stacy to giggle and the LT to take another long pull of his beer. Soap didn’t miss the way he kept checking on Price and Indie, which Gaz was also doing. He wasn’t ignorant to the sudden shift in dynamics either but he was willing to let anything slide tonight!

Price barked out another laugh at the words that came out of Indiana’s mouth in response to him sinking another shot. Who knew you had such a way with balls, Cap. “Well, I’ve been around a couple for quite a while.” She snorted and he couldn’t help but chuckle again. Movement over at their table caught her attention and yet, she whipped around a little too quick. He came up beside her, feigning lining up another shot, leaning into her space just enough to barely brush his shoulder into her. “Don’t let it bother you, jus’ keep havin’ fun with me, love.” She looked up at him with wide eyes and a certain air of panic that made him just stare down at her with a steady gaze. She clicked her teeth together and gave him a curt nod but he saw the way her cheeks flamed, just enough to give away her embarrassment. Not over him, no… but over being found out, he reckoned. He gave a nod in return.

Simon frowned behind his mask at the distance between him and Price and Indie. C’mon Simon. Stace beckoned him from the sidewalk and he let the door shut behind him. He’d just brought her in to meet everyone before taking her out to a proper dinner. But something had felt off… and something hadn’t set right with him about the way Price had virtually swept Indie into the back of the pub, away from all of them. It’d bother him quietly for days.

[forlorn-crows]

Aether Fucking and Creampieing Rain Upside Down on a hotel bed, rain getting overstimulated and Covered in cum, Aether overfilling him?

transmasc rain has entered the chat

as im sure you saw, this ask sent me into shock when i first read it. its just so...hnnng

this one's for @gayrickgrimes as well. big ole kisses

Rain’s brain is fuzzy. He’s lost track of how many times he’s came since Aether pinned him against the hotel door of their shared room for the night.

The first, they didn’t even make it to the bed, the mix of adrenaline and heavy petting cresting over on Aether’s hand, Rain panting into his shoulder. The second by Aether’s mouth, licking and sucking on his throbbing clit, his fingers woven tightly in Aether’s hair. The third, fourth, fifth, in quick succession again by Aether’s fingers, curling perfectly on that spot just inside his cunt. Thighs trembling, slick rushing over the digits, claws digging into the cheap hotel sheets.

At one point he came riding Aether’s juicy thigh, but he doesn’t remember what number that was. The pace was maddening, bordering pain and pleasure, and they both just couldn’t get enough of each other.

That had to be hours ago. It just had to be. Rain’s brain might as well be melting out of his ears at this point. And it may just, considering how Aether has him hanging over the foot of the bed, half of his torso dangling freely as he fucks into his soaking heat. He’s floaty, high on the bloodrush and overstimulation. Vaguely, he registers his own voice chanting Aether’s name like a mantra, a prayer for sweet release.

“Fuck, raincloud, so beautiful like this,” Aether rasps. “Like a fallen angel.” And he supposes he looks fairly blasphemous, arms hanging limp and gangly next to his ears, inner thighs and pubic mound covered with shiny slick, dark love bites peppering his neck and chest, flat flushed plane of his stomach coated in stripes and little pearls of Aether’s cum, eyes rolled back and dark hair tumbling in soft waves around his horns.

Rain can’t let out anything more than a soft yeah, moaning at the obscene sound of Aether repeatedly pulling all the way out, just to sink all the way back down. Each time, he can feel a slow drool of slick around the edge of his entrance, no doubt coating Aether’s cock from base to tip.

“So wet,” he muses, staring at the strand of slick connecting from the head of his cock to Rain’s cunt.

“Please,” Rain whines, hating the numbness he gets when Aether stops to admire him. His hands float to grip at the comforter bunched at the foot of the bed, desperate to wrap his long legs around Aether’s waist and just keep him there.

Aether slides in again, thrusting shallowly before fucking him in earnest once more, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing across the thin walls. Rain’s teetering on the edge for the hundredth time, clit throbbing and stomach spasming. He digs his heels in Aether’s back, keeping him right where he needs him.

“Want you to cum one last time for me, Rainy,” Aether purrs, pulling Rain down by the hipbones to grind deep on his cock. He’s so full, pleasure stretched gossamer thin, he doesn’t know if he can take it anymore. He doesn’t care how loud he’s whining, how he’s begging and clawing at the blankets. Aether presses the pad of his thumb feather-light against the head of Rain’s clit, swiping slowly upward and—

Before he can process the shockwave the flick sends through him, he’s cumming; thighs squeezing at Aether’s sides, hot fluid gushing over his cock and stomach, breath completely stolen from his lungs.

“Oh Lucifer, yes Rainy, fuck fuck fuck.” Aether’s not too far behind, cumming with a grunt, filling Rain with all he has left. It’s just enough to overflow, milky fluid mingling with fresh slick as it dribbles out and onto the wet patch already soaking into the bed. They hang suspended in the moment before the exhaustion inevitably crashes around them.

When it does, Aether pulls Rain back onto the bed and gathers the completely boneless water ghoul in his arms. He whispers praises into Rain’s sweaty hair, pressing his palms softly into his cool back. Grounding. Calming. Eventually, they’ll unfurl to clean off the sweat, the cum, the slick. But for now, Rain’s content to melt into his lover's arms, wholly satiated.

[dreaamerwrites]

things you said under the stars and in the grass >> Cho Guesung, because you know he is our starry-eyed babie.

things you said -> still accepting! things you said under the stars and in the grass.

couple: cho guesung x gender neutral reader rating: G notes: ??? unconfirmed r/s status? lmao

♫

He's lying in the grass.

Arms and legs sprawled out, chin up, eyes wide open. You can make out the way they shine even in the darkness, the lights of the training grounds long since shut down now.

"Everyone was looking for you, you know," you murmur, not bothering to announce yourself. He knows it's you.

He knows it'll always be you.

Guesung merely grins, a lazy, sideways tilt of a thing as he pats the ground beside him. You settle down beside him, legs folded in front of you. It's clearly not what he had had in mind.

"You're doing it wrong," he rolls his eyes.

His hand wraps around your wrist and he gives you a tug. One time. And then once more, with purpose. You roll your eyes back at him before flopping backwards onto your back as well.

The grass scratches at the back of your neck and your ears and you shiver at the sensation. He wiggles beside you until you're pressed to his side, shoulder to shoulder, arm to arm. The bare skin of his arm is warm against yours, even in the cool evening air.

"I don't know why you enjoy this," you whisper. It's much too cold for May. "The grass is so prickly."

He merely snorts.

"Very romantic," he teases back -- but there is nothing teasing about the way he shifts his position, then.

Guesung slides one arm under your head, pulling you into his side easily; prickly grass suddenly replaced by his very solid, very warm chest.

If he can feel your breath hitch, he thankfully doesn't comment on it.

"Look," he whispers into your hair. "The stars look amazing tonight."

You twist slightly, glancing at the way his face is still turned up to the night sky, and then follow his gaze. Up, up, and up -- past the empty goal net, past the training ground stands, past the concrete of the building that has come to mean so much to him in such a short period of time.

Up, up, and up -- until all you can see are stars.

Endlessly, they stretch on, sparkling in the air as if someone has painstakingly sewn them into this blanket of peace and night.

"They're beautiful," you agree, voice so soft you wonder if he'll even hear you. His grip around your shoulders tightens. "I don't think I've ever seen them like this."

He hums in agreement, tilting his cheek until it rests against the top of your head. Your hair catches his stubble and you want to laugh but the moment seems too fragile for it. The stars are too delicate. You're not sure when you'll get a moment like this with him again.

After all...

"I'm going to see the stars in England, too," Guesung promises quietly. You wonder if it's meant more for him than you. "I'm going to see the stars in England. Maybe Spain. Maybe Germany. But definitely England."

Something catches in your throat and you force yourself to continue staring up, up, and up.

(After all, come the end of this summer, who knows when he'll be here like this again?)

"I know," you murmur into the fabric of his shirt. He still smells of his shampoo and body wash and freshly cut grass, still soft and worn post-training. You try to commit the scent to memory. "You'll see them in England. I know you will."

The silence that stretches between the two of you after that feels like the stars. Endless. Fragile.

But then his lips are on your forehead, brushing a soft kiss there. Barely touching, but quietly hopeful in its own gentle, careful way. You grip at his shirt more tightly, your heart pounding.

"You'll see them with me too," he murmurs against your hair.

You can't tell if it's an invitation -- or a question.

Regardless, you shift slightly to look up at him. At his eyes, still shining in the darkness, staring right back at you. The prettiest stars you've seen all night.

"If you want me to," you reply.

This time, his smile is full. Wide and sincere and warm as he pulls you in, strong arms firm and secure around you.

"Of course. I want you to be there," his voice comes rough, when he finally replies. The sound seems to resonate deep in his chest and it shakes you right through from your fingers to your toes. "I always want you."

He knows it'll always be you.

[take-it-on-the-run]

Echoes

Lucy Gray Baird & Coriolanus Snow

How could Snow know that a song written for him would come back to haunt him, all these years later?

Word Count: 1.5k

Tags: ANGST, no happy ending here folks, big spoilers for TBOSAS and The Hunger Games, time skips (back and forth), Lucy Gray gets the last laugh

Characters: Lucy Gray Baird, Coriolanus Snow, Katniss Everdeen

Read it on AO3!

A/N: This is a mish-mash of the book and the movie, and also my first attempt at fan fiction ever. I wrote a large chunk of this in the bathroom at Thanksgiving because I saw TBOSAS the night before and couldn't get it out of my head. I hope you enjoy, and any constructive criticism is always welcome! Also, I hate editing on my phone :)

The first time he’d ever heard the song, he was in a meadow, far from the prying eyes of the Capitol. Away from the television screens that broadcast his lover being thrust into the Games in a vain attempt at entertainment. The Games his life was bound to, forever.

The Games that, in a twist of fate, his lover had won purely through her charm and wit. The only weapon she wielded was his mother’s compact he’d given her in secret, filled with rat poison, which was returned when it was found on her person after the game. He was sure that if he hadn’t given her that compact and told her to hide under the arena, she’d have been dead before nightfall. She was a performer, after all.

She was there, Lucy Gray, sitting alone, idly strumming at her guitar. Once the Capitol released her back to District 12, she reunited with the Covey, her family, her one true reason that she needed to win in the arena.

At the time, he wanted to let himself think he was the reason she wanted to win, but deep down he knew her heart always laid with her misshapen family.

He slowly approached her, taking in the lyrics to the soft song she was singing. She sang so softly that if she sang any quieter, her words would be lost to the wind.

Are you

Are you

Coming to the tree?

He strolled further towards her, eyes scanning the empty landscape until they landed on the tree she was sitting under. Its branches were dry and could barely be called brown, and Lucy Gray was using a large chunk of it as a makeshift chair.

Where they strung up a man

They say murdered three

The lyrics to the song made him stop for a moment. Of all the things she chose to sing about, why would such a beautiful girl sing such a dark story?

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight

In the hanging tree

The second time he’d heard the song, he was in a forest, reeling at the pain from a trap his lover had set for him. Rain forced them to pause their journey of running from Panem, seeking shelter in a cabin among the trees. He didn’t know if his lover knew about the weapons stored beneath the floorboards, but as soon as he laid his hands on them, she must’ve thought his choice was already made.

She all but ran from the cabin, making an excuse to get food that she earlier deemed wasn’t ripe enough to eat. He knew that she was running from him, from the silver-tongued Capitol-raised son who was almost killed by her charms.

Almost.

He ran after her, gun in hand, looking to see where she’d run to. A rough trail turned into forest floor, trees suddenly the only thing he could see. He cautiously took more steps before his mother’s orange shawl he’d given her, crumpled in a small pile, came into view. Another piece of his mother given to her, being returned.

He bent down to pick up the shawl, snatching it off the ground when he felt a sudden pain shoot from his forearm. Stifling a scream from his lips, he frantically looked down, the source of his pain hanging from him.

An orange, black, and white banded snake was sunk into his skin. He ripped its fangs out from his arm with a grunt, the culprit slithering away into the grass before he could crush it with his boot.

He called out and asked the trees whether or not the snake was poisonous.

If she was trying to kill him, after everything he’d done for her.

There was a flash of bright color among the dark trees he was sure was Lucy Gray, and he fired. Without a thought, without remorse, and without a trace of the man he promised her he’d be.

He paused when he heard a grunt, a small part of him hoping he’d missed.

A larger part of him hoping he hadn’t.

He stalked through the trees, expecting to see her bleeding into the earth, but was met with her gold hoop earring, dangling with long pearls. He tucked it in his pocket, next to his compass and his mother’s compact.

He spoke again to the empty wood, saying this was enough, for her to stop.

The reply taunted him in his lover’s voice, dripping from the beaks of the dozens of jabberjays that started to circle above him.

Are you

Are you

Coming to the tree?

He craned his neck up to see his tormentors, ricocheting the voice of the girl he was running away with.

Where the dead man called out

For his love to flee

The voice of the girl that was now running from him.

He raised the gun that was slack in his arms, pressing the trigger and firing at the birds. He spun on his heel, desperate to stop hearing her voice colliding off the walls in his mind.

He fired frantically, screaming at the birds to shut up, but none of them seemed to hear his pleas or fall from the sky.

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight

In the hanging tree

The third time he’d heard the song, his heart stopped, only for a moment. He was a decrepit old man now, his chin sporting a white beard that matched his hair, sitting at the head of the Capitol.

He faced a television screen that was broadcasting a large band of rebels, walking to the District 5 dam with explosives.

The attack was an act of treason against the Capitol, plain and simple. Giving the rebels a small glimmer of hope at rising against Panem’s government, all led by a seventeen-year-old girl.

The victor, the girl on fire, the Mockingjay, Katniss Everdeen; she went by many names, all of which made him want to crush her like the pest she was.

Even more when he learned she twisted a song written for him by a lover he wished he could forget.

Are you

Are you

Coming to the tree?

He diverted his eyes from the screen, lightly pounding his fist to his chest as he covered his surprise with a cough.

Where I told you to run

So we’d both be free

He blinked, and suddenly he was back in the meadow, watching Lucy Gray play from afar. Her soft voice floating through the gentle silence of the wind blowing against an open field.

Back in the forest, hunting her down and being taunted by jabberjays as the song cut through the dense forest that still visited him in his dreams.

He dug his blunt nails into his palm, standing up and walking over to a window that overlooked a courtyard. Other people in the room were glued to the television, gunfire mixing with the voices of the rebels.

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight

In the hanging tree

The final time he heard the song, he was standing at a post, center attention to every eye that had invaded the Capitol. Alma Coin stood on a platform behind him, and the dearest Mockingjay stood with an arrow trained at his head.

His eyes met hers, cold and void of the emotion they held when they met. Her lips were held in a thin line, the drawstring of her bow taut against her nose.

Are you

Are you

Coming to the tree?

He raked his eyes across the crowd, and he swore for a moment he saw her. Lucy Gray, young and bright as the day he’d met her. He knew his mind was tricking itself, some rendition of his life flashing before his eyes, but he still sucked in his bloody breath at the hope of seeing her again.

He’d always been honest to the girl on fire, and for that, he hoped she’d give him a swift death; but instead, she moved her aim above him, letting the arrow fly and killing Alma Coin.

He jaw went slack, the metallic taste of his blood sliding over his tongue. She lowered her weapon as the crowd behind engulfed her form, surging at him as he closed his eyes tight.

A peaceful death wasn’t in the cards for him after all.

Wear a necklace of rope

Side by side with me

Regret didn’t surge through his veins for the countless lives he’d taken, the people he’d enslaved, or the Games; it was for the man he chose to be. Taking the guns from the floorboards of that cabin, hunting her like she was a bird with its wings broken, and swallowing her memory like a snake in the grass.

He didn’t deserve regret. He deserved a fiery endless hell that would barely serve his actions justice.

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight

In the hanging tree

As brutal hands clawed at his skin, tearing his soul from his body, he brought his mind back to the memories he didn’t deserve to have. With her, his lover, Lucy Gray. The girl that was lost to the trees, erased from history in a hope that the all-powerful President Snow would always land on top.

[aboxthecolourofheartache]

179. “We may have a slight problem…” for Lin Chen & Mei Changsu (buddy pairings totally count)

Again, literal actual years later, ta-da!

Slight Problem (1623 words) by aboxthecolourofheartache Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 琅琊榜 | Nirvana in Fire (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Lin Chen & Lin Shu | Mei Changsu | Su Zhe Characters: Lin Shu | Mei Changsu | Su Zhe, Lin Chen (Nirvana in Fire) Additional Tags: Bar Room Brawl, a very efficient one that is not really at a bar nor really a brawl, wuxia innkeepers are the most put-upon people in the genre, Fights, Bodyguard, Friendship, Trust, oogling your friend while he kicks ass and excusing it as fight analysis, Introspection, Dubious Morality, Timeline What Timeline Series: Part 9 of Interlude Summary:

Mei Changsu waxes poetic about who would win in a fight, Lin Shu or Lin Chen, and the matter remains unresolved by the time Lin Chen finishes shooing off the riff-raff. Also: myth-making dates for fun and profit.

[ofbluehues]

❛ ɪ’ᴍ ᴠᴇʀʏ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ, ᴛʜᴀɴᴋs. ’ the story of a ᵐⁱˢᵗᵃᵏᵉ girl trying {ᵈᵉˢᵖᵉʳᵃᵗᵉˡʸ} to deny who she is, and occasionally saving the world along the way .

searching relentlessly for some sense of belonging, acceptance, & purpose and drowning in loneliness defensiveness grief longing loathing secrets—

Carrd | Wishlist | About Tag TBD | Memes

CASSIE - an indie doctor who & original character rp blog written and run by MEG. semi-selective & novella-style writing. mun is 25 and obsessed with plotting and ooc chat - messages are always open for friends and strangers alike ! i usually don’t bite

[aahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh]

Know i love you in every form, male, female, somewhere in between or not at all. I would love you if you where a worm and would give you the best life. Know I would love you if you where old and frail with wrinkles and sagging skin. Know i would love you with scars across every inch of your beautiful body. Know i would love you if you turned into a bird and flew away, i would spend my life watching you fly free if it made you happy. Know i would love you in any form you take.

[izepeche]

Don’t You Know, You’re Life Itself

A/N: This is an excerpt of a lil fic Ive been rolling around in my empty brain since I watched MoM. My attention has been divided with other ideas i'm working on ;) so it might take a little time to roll this whole one out. This is only a part (and in fact this is the middle) of what I’ve written, so stay tuned! There’s no beta reader (i dont have one sorry), so my apologies if there are mistakes. As always I’m appreciative of any comments or feedback, this is the first fic ive written in… *checks non-existent watch* a few years, so im rusty to say the least!

Pairing: Sinister!Strange x F!Reader with Powers

Warnings/Tags: Light spoilers for DS MoM, Obsession, Stalker, Manipulation, Porn with Plot, Dub-Con Elements, Biting, Fighting, Choking, Mentions of Blood, Manipulation, Rough Sex, Allusions to Abandonment and Family Issues, Identity Crisis Issues, Dark!Possessive!Sinister Strange, that's really a warning within itself

*I’m VERY bad with tags, so if I miss something, pls tell me*

Word count: 3.5k+ (unfinished)

Synopsis: You go to Sinister!Stephen Strange for help with your powers, against your better judgment. He is all the more happy to oblige you in your time of need. Deep down you know you shouldn’t trust him, nor do you know why he's so eager to help. But you have no one else to turn to, and his charming smile puts you at ease… too bad it's all for show.

EXCERPT BEGINS BELOW

“Ah, I see,” he enthusiastically quipped, stepping towards the giant eye-shaped window, silver brushed back at his temples glimmering, looking out into the foggy distance. “And what exactly is your power?”

He stole a glance at you through squinted eyes. Your stomach fluttered at catching his look but you held your ground. You had the slightest feeling he was putting you on, feigning intrigue while asking questions and offering off-color (but endearing) one-liners.

“Common, god-damned sense.” You remarked in a low voice. It came out in more of a sarcastic tone than you had anticipated, but you rolled off of it. Allowed the words that hung in the thick air to give you a purchase for confidence.

His shoulders came up in a tense movement, craning his head toward you and he breathed out,

“That’s a good one.”

He flashed you an incredulous smile. The smile that unabashedly bared his teeth and pulled against his face like he was going to crack; admittedly, it was damn charming. Despite you being stuck between feeling untrustworthy of him and the dread in your bones while being in his presence; you couldn’t deny how hauntingly attractive the man before you was.

He then slowly shook his head, and light blue eyes pierced through you, cool anticipation trailing down your spine like cold fingers.

He continued, “Though, I don’t think that’s the whole truth, now is it?” He searched your face as he sauntered closer towards the table and clasped his hands behind him.

Deep down you felt the familiar twinge of the guilt you had tried so hard to bury, but all it ever did was resurface like corrosive bile. All you ever wanted was to be honest and open with people. You didn’t enjoy having to keep secrets or lying to those you loved, but it was the only way to protect them. And look where that got you. No where, with nobody else. You couldn’t win and it just didn’t seem fair. You always struggled to be true to yourself, always wound up caught between being who you were and what you had to be. You didn’t even know who you wanted to be anymore. Everything you felt was so conflicted, and it never got easier as the years went by. Maybe you were meant to be alone. The stinging lump in your throat felt harder to swallow.

He dropped his smile as he caught on to how saddened you became. His eyes cut away to the document laying on the table you had brought with you. He picked it up and studied it shortly, his eyes coming back to you. Written in your own handwriting, you had detailed your consent of allowing Stephen Strange to do anything he could to strip you of your powers. Included in the flurry of statements you scrawled how even if it resulted in your death, you would rather suffer greatly than ever hurt someone else again.

“I- I just dont know, sir. A lot of things, I mean. Not just this.” You lifted your hands before dropping them, too ashamed to watch how they shook. He opened his mouth and you winced, mouthing an apology when you remembered that he didn’t want you to call him that. He nodded, offered you the paper and conjured a pen, and without second thought you scribbled out your full name under his; per his instructions.

You didn't understand what your powers were, but if they drove those you loved away, why have them? Your stomach was in knots, he didn’t fully explain what would happen next, but a part of you couldn’t care less.

“I just want them gone.” You swallowed and twiddled with the mauve celluloid pen in your hands, admiring its weight and balance across your unsteady fingers.

“What a shame, you couldn’t stop that scalpel.” He stated plainly as he watched you fidget, mumbling something you couldn’t hear and the pen flicked of existence. A pleased smile tugged at his lips as he peered down at the signed document.

“Wait. What did you say?” You asked. How did he know about that? Everything was moving too fast. It might have been just your blurry, tired mind but there were still so many questions you wanted answers to, answers you knew he had. He seemed too content with luring you in with questions but never offering a conclusion.

The piano separating the two of you slid away. Candles of different sizes scattering the room began to slide forward and the air seemed to become charged like a thunderstorm was brewing. You could feel something surging from out of your bones.

“There’s not much of anything going on in that pretty little head of yours, is there.” Stephen sneered as he approached you, wind from nowhere blowing long, swept back hairs onto his pale forehead.

“You just signed over your life to me.” You couldn't move from where you were, and you didn’t attempt to make a rebuttal. You just wanted it to be over.

“I-in some way, yes, I suppose I did.”

“Then I suppose I shall take my payment.”

“We never did discuss that.”

“Don’t worry, there won't be much discussion…”

Perhaps out of your ignorance, or sleep deprivation, you rambled to fill the air; to engage despite the uneasy tension forming.

“I guess for a man like you, taking a life is easy. You mentioned earlier about how high the price could be when someone did something wrong with their power. So, how will you kill me?”

Stephen let out a low chuckle, appreciative of your curiosity and meek nature. He placed a large hand on your shoulder, rubbing your collarbone with his fingers. You knew less about him than you liked, but you allowed the contact.

A disembodied voice whispered low and cool lips matierialized against the shell of your ear. “What do you think you deserve?”

It was Stephen’s, for sure, but his mouth hadn’t moved. You breathed in sharply and attempted to answer the loaded question, but he placated you with his other hand coming up to cradle the side of your face. Your eyes fluttered shut and you moaned softly into his warm palm, leaning into it. You didn't let people touch you anymore; it was often a lot to make a conscious effort to keep your powers in check so as not to hurt them. Though you were never a big fan of physical contact; this felt different. He really held you. Though his hands were warm, a cooling effect spread across the areas he touched and it soothed you.

This was a special moment that you didn't attempt to hide how you felt, and it was cathartic for both of you. Messy hair framed your weary face, the rest bundled into a hair clip. Your strands spilled out like a halo around your head, highlighting your resting features. You looked angelic, raw, open, breathtaking, just for him; better than he’d ever imagined. You didn't see how he slid his tongue across his teeth as he watched you intently.

Tenderly his thumb began to run small circles into your cheeks, and feeling it become damp against your skin made you open your eyes. That's when you realized you had begun to cry. His fingers slid into your hair and massaged a spot behind your ear, a chill bursting across your nerves. Your eyes closed again, and another moan came out; but this one was particularly obscene.

“Oh my God, I’m so embarrassed.“ You blustered. “I’m so sorry.” Your face burned and you blinked up at him through tear-studded lashes.

Fuck, he could get used to that.

“Don’t be, we all have our…sensitive places.” He cooed with a wink. His pupils were dilated. Now it was your turn to let out a laugh along with an awkward, heavy sigh. You hesitated before you used a quivery hand to remove his from your face. The heat simmering in your stomach protested.

“Maybe I should go.”

You tried to ignore the crushed look on Stephen’s face as you turned away, his other hand slipping from your shoulder. You left him where he stood, his hand that cradled you still up in the air. You stepped past the table and eyed the stairs.

“I really do appreciate your trying to help me, it was really quite kind of you-“

The table flew past you and blocked the stairwell. All of the candles around the room extinguished, albeit a lone candelabra on the piano.

“Trying?” He snapped, voice breaking. You turned back, only to see empty space. He appeared behind you like a ghost, hands at your sides and his nose ghosting the crook of your neck.

“A deal’s a deal.”

“I understand, b-but I think I'm better off dealing with this alone.”

You could barely get the words out, distracted by his heated breath on your neck. You still wanted to go home, not that you knew where that would be anymore.

“You dont believe that.” Stephen replied sickly sweet, groping roughly along your chest. You whined and attempted to pry his roaming fingers off of you; but even without using his abilities he was stronger than you.

And as demented as all of this was, he was right. Being alone was one thing. Being lonely because you couldn't even understand yourself was another. You didn’t want to bear that burden anymore, you couldn’t.

“Well, to be fair, you haven't done anything yet.”

He nipped at your neck, causing you to jump in his grasp. He let out a growl before whipping you around, large hands digging into your hips and pulling you against him. He waved a hand and the lit candelabra came off the piano and floated a few inches above your face, the ivory wax dripping onto the floor below.

“Never deny my power,” He spat, voice echoing across the room, his eyes ablaze in the yellow glow from the flames dancing above you. Feeling the emanating heat, you tried to wriggle free, but the candle light followed. Hot ivory fell from the candle onto your cheek and you gasped in pain, the heat lingering on your skin.

“What do you think I have been doing this whole time? From the moment I laid eyes on you I knew you were meant for me. Not for your family, not your friends, not your fucking boyfriend,” He grabbed your face in one hand momentarily before licking a hungry stripe from your jaw to your temple, his facial scruff dragging against your skin with a throbbing burn. “You wasted so much of yourself on them. You’re mine now, the way it’s supposed to be. And you had no idea how much I fought for you-”

As you broke away from his grasp you shook your head in utter disbelief. The emotions that whirled deep within confused even you. He had to be fucking crazy; he had no right to say such things about who you could belong to. He didn’t even know you. You lost everything because of him.

You smacked him across the face and screamed obscenities through blearing vision. Stephen staggered to the side and hissed, his hand coming up to touch his face. Blood. He snarled and stood erect, crazed eyes draining of emotion before they frenzied again, freezing you where you stood. He rushed you, you turned away. An arm came around your head and caught your throat, trapping you.

He dragged you back against his chest for leverage then knocked you down by kicking in your calves. The more you struggled, the more you felt him laugh breathlessly against your hair. He used his other arm to undo the strings holding together the front of your dress, and you bit down on his bicep, teeth going through his garment and iron hinting at your tongue. Stephen hissed and his arm muscles tightened, crushing your windpipe. You dug your nails into his solid tricep and forearm as you fought to free yourself, your heartbeat thundering in your ears. You managed to get a leg out and kick in the side of his knee. Stephen wavered for a moment and retorted, heaving you by the waist and throwing you into the piano, the fall board banging against your midriff and sending out a discordant sound of keys into the air. Assorted sheet music fluttered onto the ground. You crumbled onto the lip as the searing pain shot through you, breath ragged as red receded from your vision.

“God, the hardest part was that little shithead.” He panted, his words dripping with venom, “He hung on to you like a leech, and I just wanted to crush him every time he touched you.“

Stephen lunged at you again, grabbing your hair and jerking your head back. He seized your throat and squeezed harshly, your vision going spotty.

“My… powers?” You managed to interject, tears forming in your eyes as you felt consciousness start to melt away.

“Oh, that was the crowning jewel,” he purred, easing his hold on your aching neck and lightly stroking back your hair. He reminisced on the way your quickened pulse had felt against him and licked his lips. “That was all you my dear. Let’s just say, I exasperated a few things.”

You reeled from the lack of oxygen again and your eyes shut. The events of the past several months flew by like a projector slide. Your fear of hospitals, of letting your family down, of losing your job, and ruining your relationship; Strange had played on them. It was dastardly, how everything came crashing down and you could only watch as your world fell apart.

“You lied to me.” You cried through uneven breaths, and wriggling free, grabbed hold of the side of the piano and turned to him.

“You ruined my life!”

“I’ve let you see the truth. Anyone who deserved being in your life wouldn’t have left you. I did what I had to do to protect you. It was the only way.” He stared into the dancing flames and they illuminated his glassy, empty eyes. Beaded red across his cheekbone caught your eye, he didn’t even seem to react to it.

What he had said pierced your heart, a part of you began to believe him. Doctor Stephen Strange, even with all his power, couldn’t just make them leave; or else he would have done that from the start. This was something they all chose to do in the end. You weren’t perfect, neither was your family, and your relationship with them wasn’t the best; but you tried to be who they wanted you to be. And still you watched them slip away.

You saw how they arranged their lives to exclude you, missing important dates and never calling. Most of your friends distanced themselves from you after you broke the news to them that you couldn’t control your powers; the others only interested in what you could do for them with the abilities. Your boyfriend, your last hope, had begun to despise you when you attempted to talk about yourself and what you needed. The incident at the hospital was just the tip of an iceberg that was already cracking. Your eyes, though weary from crying, burned. Even though you hated to admit it now, with or without Strange’s influence, your powers might have harmed someone else, and you would have been found out anyway. You certainly had more than a few close calls.

There were so many things that you had more questions than answers for. How long had he really been pulling the strings? What did he gain in destroying your life? Was it really just to be with you? The implications of those thoughts sickened you; it was all too much to process.

“You're insane.” You wheezed, attempting to regain your composure and you hit him in the chest with a closed fist.

He didn’t budge. Usually your powers would have made more of an impact, but they were… gone? Maybe it was your adrenaline running out from fighting for your life. Or maybe… You looked at your hands in horror then back at him. He did a sign with deft hands and violet lightning whizzed out of them, your wrists bound in them and pulled them behind your back.

“I gave you what you wanted,” Stephen growled hungrily, baring teeth and icy eyes twinkling, “Now you give me what I want.”

Your eyes grew large at the insinuation and you kicked at him. Stephen’s thigh moved in between yours. He leaned in, you accidentally ground against him and yelped. You managed to twist away and he dug fingers into your ass, bringing you back onto his leg. He hissed at the decadent contact, rocking your hips ever so gently as his heated gaze met your eyes. Long dark strands fell in front of his eyes, pupils blown like black holes. It was potent, your conflicting desires swirling and smoldering within you and you swore you’d die from the heat. You felt spellbound.

Dripping wax fell onto the column of your neck and you let out a strained moan.

Stephen bellowed and you felt it resonate within you. “I didn't make you do that, now did I.”

A blush trickled across your face and down your neck and you dropped your eyes. He didn’t make a snide remark then, much to your surprise; but instead brandished an amused look. He did note how pretty you looked, bound in his magic, and wanting him. You didn’t deny it, no, not really; and your weak attempts at protest only spurred him on. Stephen Strange was never one to back away from a challenge.

And what a prize you were.

Not wanting to break the momentum, with a snap of his fingers your metal belt appeared in his hand and he let it clatter to the floor. The candelabra rested back onto the grand piano. You scrunched your face as he pushed the fabric aside, revealing your partially naked form. His eyes raked over your exposed body, and you couldn’t bear to watch, turning your head away.

He pushed more of the dress aside, viciously dragging his nails over your knees and up your thighs. He stopped short of your heat, tracing the delicate skin of your mound before brushing against the outer folds. You gulped down a moan and closed your legs.

He put on an exaggerated pout. “Oh, come on, don’t try the prude lady act with me, darling. We both know how much of a whore you really are.”

Stephen went down on his knees, positioning himself in front of your shut legs.

“Show me.”

You didn’t move. He delivered a harsh swat to your thigh, a purple spark zapping you and you jerked against your restraints.

He breathed in and his tone shifted. “Open them, or I will break you.”

That crazed look entered his eyes for a moment and your blood went cold; you knew he meant exactly what he said. You didn’t dare call his bluff. Despite this pernicious dilemna, the imminent dread churned the sweltering pool of arousal within you into something… bittersweet. It wasn’t alien to you, you’d been privy to it in the time leading up to coming to the Sanctum; it growing thicker when he’d touched you, grabbed at you. Yet you ignored it, trying to deny it out of existence; but like your powers it only came back stronger.

It’d be noticeable now, you could feel the wetness as it seeped out and dampened your inner thighs. It was all so, so wrong, but the filthy, sinful feeling was too divine to ignore.

You knew it would be over for you when Stephen saw it. And he will see it.

So, why deny yourself?

EXCERPT END

[drelldreams]

N7 Month 2023 Challenge Day 7: Varren

Note: I had this dream where Samara came across Teltin facility during one of her investigation. So this fic was born.

Under the cut.

Fic Title: For Every Wicked One, There Is Someone Well Meaning Out There

Somewhere in the outer edges of the Terminus Systems, 2173.

Samara’s gaze wanders from the unconscious child in her arms to the disasterous view from the shuttle’s window. The flames have swallowed the facility whole by now, burning down the planet’s fruitless forest. Like the rest of Pragia it is grey and plain and too overgrown with poisonous, infecteous plants to ever offer any hope of terraforming it to provide a sustainable environment. It is rare that Samara has to take such measures to destroy an entire place. Normally, Samara’s job is not to commit arson, really; it generally goes against the Justicar Code. But this whole facility was build with one purpose: to torment. Thus, by the Code, Samara was compelled to destroy it.

Though the child could awaken any second, and is likely to attack Samara, the Justicar holds herself calm. She is a danger, that is certain. In her nearly a millenia of life, centuries of which she spent travelling across the galaxy as a mercenary, Samara has never come across someone with such tremendous biotic poweress. Especially not across someone as young as this girl was. Not even Samara herself, a Justicar with finely honed powers, could claim she surpassed this little human’s strength. That they have abused her in such horrific ways, all just to test the limits of human biotic potential?

Samara has faced many horrors in her long life. But this.. this was beyond all measure. Horrifying. Repulsive, on every level. Despite her conditioning, Samara felt a tinge of nausea in her stomach. Who could do this to a child so young and innocent?

She has not felt this way since she first learned what horrors her daughter had committed after her escape from Thessia.

A part of Samara thinks that shall this child awaken, perhaps she should.. perhaps she should not do anything. If this young human feels compelled to kill Samara, how can she blame her? The Justicar has read the notes left in the facility before she burned the place down. ‘Subject Zero’ has been raised in this place since she was a baby, treated as nothing but an experiment meant to be tortured solely for the sake of scientific results. Conditioned to kill. She could not tell right from wrong.

She never had someone who taught her that.

If this child— Samara refuses to dub her ‘Subject Zero’ in her mind— choose to attack her.. She was not sure if she could, or should, defend herself.

Maybe Samara was more resigned than calm, after all.

—

Samara has been correct with her assumptions. As soon as the child found consciousness, she hit Samara with a biotic blast so hard it would have killed one of the scientists back at the facility. But Samara was well armored, and the child was weakened from her earlier massacre. With a loud thud, Samara’s back hit the wall, and the asari found herself shockingly accepting of whatever this child decided she would do with her.

Samara’s Code did not compel her to kill this child. Not because of her age, no. But because she was unaware of what she was doing. The girl was scowling, but Samara had seen the heart wrenching fear in her eyes the moment she had awakened. She could tell by her stance and the tense set of her jaw how terrified she was, how horribly abused she had been.

It was allowes to act in self defense, but not obligatory. The choice was up to Samara; rarely did the Code offer such freedom.

She could feel the biotic field tearing at her when she thought of Morinth.

No. Samara had to end this. She had to take out Morinth, or she would continue to leave behind astronomical body counts; some of which were young, innocent children, like this poor human was;

She couldn’t die.

And, just like that, Samara felt the biotic field tearing at her perish.

But it wasn’t because Samara had been fighting it.

No.

"Why did you kill the scientists? Why did you take me with you?"

Samara had expected this young girl’s voice to sound different. It did not sound angry, nor could Samara detect any obvious fear. Though Samara could tell she was scared, the girl didn’t make it seem obvious. Rather, her voice sounded awfully monotonous. Weathered. In a way she reminded Samara more of herself, a ruined, broken vessel; an accomulation of centuries of hardship. A girl that young was not supposed to evoke such an aura..

"I am Justicar Samara, a servant of an ancient asari order. By my Code, I was compelled to bring justice and kill your tormentors. I was also obliged to save you.", Samara explained, her tone full of compassion and serenity.

"What.. what Code?", the young girl asked, still wary of Samara. "And why are you blue?"

The blunt question, had  the circumstances been any less tragic, would have made Samara’s lips quirk up in a smile ever so slightly. But she could not smile. Not now.

"I am blue because I am an asari." Samara explained patiently. She remembered that this human child likely never had seen someone of another species. "We are one of the many space faring species; among your own race, the humans."

"Asari….", The child repeated, quietly. "Your Code made you save me?", she asked in disbelief.

"Yes", Samara confirmed without hesitation. "That is what I do. My role is to bring justice upon this galaxy; to protect innocents like you, from people like those scientists at the facility."

"But why are you different?", she asked, still as if she was not believing Samara.

"You may find it difficult to believe, young one, but there are many more people like me", Samara stated. "I will not lie to you. The galaxy can be a cruel place. There will be more people out to harm you, people like those scientists. But for every individual as wicked as that, I can assure you, there is someone well meaning out there."

The young biotic did not seem to miss that Samara had been evading her question. "But why are you not like them?"

"I could not bring it over my heart to harm someone young and innocent like you. It is as simple as that."

Samara was not sure if the child understood, given the puzzled look on her face. How shocking, that a child had been raised under such brutal conditions that it could not comprehend how someone could not be cruel.

"You have not yet killed me", Samara noted, gently.

"….You haven’t tried to hurt me yet", the child replied, quietly.

“And so it shall remain. What is your name?"

"They call me Subject Zero." Her answer was clinical, lacking any sort of inflection.

"No. I will not call you Subject Zero, dear. Those days are over. You are not a subject."

"I don’t have a name."

"Then it is time we shall give you a proper name."

---

Samara could not say that the child had ceased to see any violence that day. It was only shortly after they have arrived at the next port, that pirates had attempted to steal the girl. Much to their dismay, she was in company of a Justicar. Between the possibly powerful biotic in the galaxy— which surprisingly was not Samara, and herself, a Justicar, the pirate band stood no chance.

Samara hoped that this young human would soon finally see another part of reality; the beauty of this galaxy. She had saved children before, but never had she come across one as deprived of the beautiful parts of life such as her.

It pained Samara to know that she had to leave this child soon.

---

"Jack", the young child spoke after a long period of silence, as they ate together in the safehouse.

"Pardon me?" Samara answered.

"My name", she explained between hungry bites. She ate as if this simple meal Samara had prepared had been the most delicious in the galaxy. "My name is Jack."

"Jack?", Samara asked, a hint of surprise in her voice. She hadn’t ever come across the name before, but then again, she rarely ventured outside asari space.

"It’s an old name. I saw it.. somewhere..", Jack replied, the image of the tattoo studio they’d passed on Omega flashung through her mind. "Jack’s Killer Ink."

She hoped she could visit Omega again, one day. Jack hoped she could get one of those tattoos, cover the marks on her skin.

---

"That’s what you want, kid? A tattoo?" The asari spoke with an amused smirk on her face. "And here I thought human girls your age wish for ponies, or those lego stones or whatever you call ‘em."

"What’s a pony?" Jack asked, innocently.

"Some kinda Earth creature- really cute and human kids love ‘em, I hear- ah, never mind. I’m just.. surprised ya wanna get inked, that’s all." Aethtya spoke. "Don’t really think it’s legal. I mean, you’re like— what, ten?"

"I don’t know. No one ever told me my age."

"Ah, crap. Know what. Think I can probably find someone who’ll get you a tattoo, whether you’re ten or not." The woman smiled. "Maybe we can get you a pony tattoo."

"I want a varren."

"A varren? Oh, right. You don’t strike to me as the pony type of girl, anyway. Way too fierce to be one. Alright, a varren tattoo, it’s gonna be."

[wildmtthyme]

Just Friends Masterlist

Main Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, Marian (Civilian OC)

Supporting Characters: Very brief mentions of the rest of the 141.

Chapters:

Synopsis: Simon was no stranger to torture and frankly, as far as torture went? This was pretty tame. What he hadn't ever experienced before, however, was coming out the other side with more than when he went in. - A random drabble that turned into a full blown story. The original title had been "Fairytale Stuff" but I changed it after some thought.

Warnings: Descriptions/Mentions of Torture, Kidnapping, Captivity, Canon Typical Violence, and Smut at the end.

Ending: Happy because that's how I roll.

Piss in the Corner <- Posted

Strangers to More <- Posted

Run <- Posted

Back Home <- Posted

Flirting <- Posted

Duty Calls <- Posted

New Addition <- Posted

Fairytale Stuff <- Posted

[r2y9s]

My Dear Bunny: Chapter 1

rewrote the first chapter, so here it is again.

Fandom: Raffles - E.W. Hornung

Rating: M

Relationships: A.J. Raffles/Bunny Manders

Additional Tags: Sugar Baby AU, POV Bunny, POV First Person, I always have this urge to write Sugar Baby AUs and Bunny is my newest victim, WIP

Summary:

"My dear Bunny! Is that really you?" Hearing my old school nickname in that familiar voice stirred something long locked away in the pit of my stomach. I ignored it. Swallowing hard and pulling myself together, I shifted slightly on my client's lap and forced a smile. "Why, Mr. Raffles!" I said, with as coy an air as I could muster. "What a strange surprise."

[ Chapter 2 ]

[ripperdoc-is-daddy]

Angst

Was watching Queen of the Damned and got in a mood TW: Breakup, pining over an ex, Depressed thoughts, sappy shit, cuddles, whump, rough start to happy ending. Pro Hero Bakugou sad boi x AFAB reader. Do not copy, repost, translate, put on other sites or read as audio. Minors do not Interact.

You and your ex had split a long time ago. It wasn’t amicable but he didn’t cause a scene. Even all these months later you still found yourself pining after him sometimes. Wishing to smell the sweet, slightly fruity burnt caramel scent he naturally gave off.  Run your hands through his soft, unruly ashen blonde hair. Feel the warmth and emotion from his hugs. But that wasn’t gonna happen anymore.      You were the one who ended things.  You couldn’t take the longs nights spent alone. Day sometimes weeks without him beside you. Sometimes he couldn’t contact you and that gnawed at your nerves and mind.  There was always some danger than came with being dating a pro hero. You initially thought you could handle it. No more. You no longer had those naïve thoughts in your head. You needed stability. You needed monotony. You needed to know that your chosen partner was coming home to you at the end of the day. Something he couldn’t ever give you. There was only one thing he was focused on that claimed him heart, body, mind and soul.  Becoming the number one hero and ousting Deku.     He tried to convince you that things could work out. He could send friends over to keep you company on nights when he would be out or when he was away on missions. He tried to bargain that he would manage his time better so he could be with you. His cries and pleas fell on deaf ears.      No matter how much he plead you continued to pack your shit or mark it with a yellow tag if it was a larger item.  When you were done you informed him that you had your new place already ready for move in and this wasn’t a negotiation or a chance at reconciliation. It was goodbye.     His Sanguine irises thinned out as his pupils grew in shock. For once he was left speechless. You were the love of his life. He never thought you were unhappy or he would have tried sooner. Sure, you had complained about him feeling alone but then you were always ok after a cuddle session.  His hands hung limply at his sides as he watched you walk out the door with the things you could carry on your person.  The reality not fully setting in until the next day when movers came and grabbed the rest of your things.    That day had been the hardest day he could remember since he had become an adult and pro hero. He didn’t even know he was crying till Kirishima had come into the apartment he used to share with you and was guiding him to the couch. The couch he used to lay down on and cuddle with you. The couch he loved to pin you down on and kiss butterflies into your gut.   

The red head wiped his face off with a wet towel and it dawned on him that he had been crying.  His hands trembled as memories flooded his mind and he went up to grip his hair. Leaning over and curling into the fetal position as he thinks of all of the firsts you shared together. First kisses, first touches, first loves.  Things he held dear and knew you did too.  More memories of dates, spicy evenings, trips together, moving in, long term family plans, etc. All of that was gone now. And it had been the fault of his complacency that had caused it.     His heart felt like it was being stabbed repeatedly and a choked, muffled sob wretched itself from his lips a he buried his head into a throw pillow and let hit all out. His feeling of loss and despair. The grief that came with mourning the relationship.  He screamed into the soft fabric while his best mate patted his back and tried to console him though his pain.  

Which is why it was so jarring when the two of you were thrust back together.  You had been hanging out with friends. Discussing a new potential beau when you stepped into the elevator. Not paying attention to anyone else that was getting on. Just living your best life and shooting the shit.     He had been dragged by Kaminari and Kirishima in an attempt to get him to socialize and make an attempt at rejoining the world beyond work. All he could think about was you. How you smelt, how you felt, the tone and timbre of your voice.  How happy and excited you looked when you saw him come to your home. The feelings of love and joy that would erupt in his chest each time he picked you up, twirled him and kissed his lips when he greeted you.      He couldn’t concentrate. He needed to leave. This is why he failed to notice who was on the elevator when he stepped onto it. His friends did not and they tried to discreetly convince him to get off the elevator and join him in the food court or something. He shrugged them off and stubbornly leaned against the clear glass panel in the back, closing his eyes and ignoring them.  His two friends sighed, stepped inside and pressed the button for the ground floor.     “Oh my god woman! I can’t believe you could be so brazen. You are so much different since you left what’s his name. It’s like you are alive again!” a familiar voice that grated his nerves violated his ears. If he didn’t know any better, he would assume that it was one of your best friends talking.  That wasn’t likely. You hated crowed so coming to an overpopulated super mall was definitely out of the question.     He groaned internally and willed himself to block out all noise. Just focus on his breathing and try to make it through this without losing it to the painful emotions still roiling around in his guts. He was successful, so very successful until he heard the one voice that he longed for the most.    “Hey now! Don’t be like that. You know he wasn’t that bad. He just didn’t notice shit. I probably should have clarified more or something but it is what it is. What do you mean I am alive now? What the fuck was I before? The undead? Gonna let me suck your blood?” you jest with your friends and giggle into a palm.      His eyes flew open and his head whipped over to the source of your voice. Which was of course you.  Standing there without a care in the world. You didn’t see him. All your focus on your friends while his was set on your frame.  Your friend was right. You did look better since the split. A lot better. Your skin was healthier, glowing. You looked radiant, happy, beautiful.  You looked perfectly vibrant.   

He continued to stare and his two friends sighed loudly knowing this was the worst possible scenario. An enclosed space with you and him. You clearly had gotten over him but he was definitely not over you.  The noise from his friends caught your attention and you frown seeing the blonde and the red head.  If they two of them were here then it as a slim chance that your ex wouldn’t be here as well. Which didn’t bode well for you at all. 

Sure, you looked great now and you were moving on with your life. But there was still a massive pit of sadness, despair and longing that grew every day and was shaped like him.  There weren’t many occupants in the cabin. From what you knew it was your three best friends, Kaminari and Kirishima and someone else in the back.     Someone tall, broad, completely shredded and smelling of a sweet, slightly fruity burnt caramel. Your eyes traced his frame as you inhaled his scent. When your gazes locked the world around the two of you began to fade and you found yourself alone. With him.  Whatever was going on outside the bubble that was enveloping you and your ex wasn’t your concern.     What was your concern was the pain that was screaming at you from behind those beautiful red orbs. The slight tremble of his lips. The wetness that threatened to flow from his orbs stabbed at your emotional core.  Your breath caught in your throat and you wanted to turn away but you couldn’t.     “You look better.” he said calmly. Mentally he cheered himself on for not breaking even thought he could feel his nonexistent defenses chipping and falling down. You nodded your head at him and he found himself needing you to say anything. ANYTHING to him. He just needed to hear the beautiful melody of your voice once more and he could make it home. He could make it home knowing you were well before he broke down because he was so close but so far.     Outside the bubble the onlookers composed of both sets of friends watched as the two of your unconsciously gravitated towards each other.  They held their breath because this could get explosive rather quickly and it wouldn’t be because of his quirk.    

Your hand came up and touched his cheek. He sucked in a sharp breath and his hand closed itself around yours. His eyes flutter. Once, twice, a third time.  They go back to look deep into yours.  Everything he ever wanted to say to you, all the thoughts he had, the remorse he felt. All of it was in reflected in those beautiful orbs of his.   

Something within you now begins to rebreak. The feelings you tried so long to reconcile with and move on from were clawing their way to the surface.  You knew you should walk away. Leave him now before you did something foolish. You had to if you were to truly move on from this. But you couldn’t. Because being with him felt right. It made you feel whole, complete. He wasn’t the best man alive by any means but he had always done his best. He had always tried.   

It took two to make a relationship work and you knew part of the blame was on you.  You should have vocalized more clearly how you were feeling in the relationship. That you needed more of his time. You needed him around just a little more so you could feel safe, secure. So, you didn’t have to worry as much. It wouldn't have taken much and you knew deep down that he would have made things right.  

Instead, you waited for him to notice. To pick up on your silent frustration and building anger. Which wasn’t fair to him or to yourself. Right here, in this moment you knew. You knew had you only spoken up more before that you wouldn’t be in the pain you feel now. Neither would he.  Where you would be you didn’t actually have a clue but you knew that it would have still been with him.  

One of his calloused fingers wipes away the tears that were beginning to fall from your eyes. His forehead comes to rest against yours and you both let out the shaky breath the two of you were holding. Your hand that caressed his face moved to slide against the back of his neck.  The hand that had previously held yours goes to pull you closer to him by the hip. He opens his mouth to speak and you cut him off.  

“Katsuki.” That is the only thing you can say. Your voice breaking at the end of his name and the flood gates open.  He pulls you in and tucks your head into his massive chest. Reassuring you as you sobbed into his faded, black, punisher tee. He buries his nose into your hair and inhales. “Shhhh. Shhh. Baby, it’s ok. It’s ok. I know. It’s alright. I’m here. I’m here.” he repeats over and over to reassure you.     The moment is broken when the elevator door dings and you jump away from him. Wiping at the edges of your eyes as you stared at him. “I think I should go.” you mumble and begin to dash off the lift.  Only a moment passes as he watches you flee before he is hauling ass after you. “Busy, gotta go, extras!” he calls out behind him as he bolts behind your figure. Easily catching up and pulling you back to him.     A palm covers your eyes and soft, velvety lips caress your one of the curved shells of your ear. “It’s ok. We can talk. Can we talk about this at home. You’re safe with me. If you want, I can take you to someplace else. Just don’t run from me again. I...” his voice trails off as he notices some concerned glances directed at him.     You can feel the tension building in his body. The whispers that creep into your auditory range let you know that the scene the pair of you present doesn’t tell a lovely story. It tells a very suspicious one which means the two of you need to go. Now.     “We can go back ho-to your place.” you mumble out. Not comprehending what you were saying until you were mostly through saying it.  He uncovers your eyes and spins you to face him. Concerned etched on his face. “Are you sure?” he asks cautiously. His Sanguine eyes are full of hope but also apprehension. He is afraid.     Nodding your head, you take one of his hands in yours, wrapping your fingers around his thick digits and pull at it towards the exit. A smile threatens to come across his face as he scoops you up bridal style and leaves the shopping center carrying you.     Several hours later.... 

You were snuggled into the couch you shared with your once boyfriend. He was sipping some warm apple cider and leaning into the couch far more relaxed that he was earlier. The two of you had talked out what went wrong. Not bothering trying to guess when things went wrong because that didn’t matter.  You both acknowledged that the fault was on both of you. One too stubborn to really speak and the other to dense to see what the problem was and how deeply it affected the other.     You both sat in a companionable silence. Enjoying each other’s company that y’all had been denied after so long. You pulled your bare feet up on the couch. Wrapping your arms around your knees and staring at the flooring. A wistful expression.  

“Can we....” you start to speak but again your voice cracks. You don’t know how to say this without looking and sounding whiny and weak.  Two things you hated being. He says nothing with just adds to the pressure you felt mounting on your shoulders. “Can... can we try again? Katsuki.” you get the words out somehow and feel the floor disappear from underneath you as you wait for his rejection.     You anticipated him rejecting you because the depth of pain you saw in his eyes was too much for someone to bear alone. With your question maybe he would free himself and in turn free you. Making the split amicable finally and allowing the pieces of each other that belonged to the other person to go back to the person they originated from. Tears forcing their way out and your breathing became more controlled as you tried as hard as you could to not let yourself be too vulnerable in front of him.     “Yes. Yes. Yes. I need you.” he replies back with no hesitation. Thick arms coming to wrap around your body and pull you flush against his. When did he put that mug of cider down? You weren’t sure and the thought quickly left your mind as you felt warm, wet tears run down your neck then get smeared into the flesh.      Katsuki was finally letting go of all the emotional turmoil he had been holding in for months.  You reached up and stroked his hair and you both let go of everything you had been feeling. Sobbing together and reforging the bonds that initially held you together. Becoming something stronger with the newfound understanding. Each of you resolving to communicate your needs better. Vowing to do better this time. That this would be the final time because neither of you could be without the other. This proved that.  Never again would either of you let this happen again.     More time passes before the sobs become sniffles and the sniffles sighs.  You are now entwined with him. Happy to be together again.  Your phones chirp and you reach over and grab his as well as yours. Readjusting yourselves so you can check your phones then resume basking in each other’s presence.     Soft Boi Red: Sooo.......y’all are good now?  Sparky: I really hope so cuz her friends are pretty pissed that the two of you just up and bolted like that.  

Katsuki growl at his phone and types back.  

Guile: Yeah. Yeah. We are good. Got talked everything out and want to be together. She is letting her friends know now.  

Soft Boi Red: Awww! I am so proud of you man! Very manly of you to admit your faults and talk out your problems. I hope things are much better for the both of you and I am happy that you are back together with her.    Sparky: It’s about time! Geeze! I wish it hadn’t taken this long but I am too an ecstatic that the two of you are back to being the city’s best power couple. 

Guile: She is quirkless, dumbass.     Sparky: You don’t need a quirk to be powerful. Power is something that is innate. That you have naturally. She has it in spades.    Guile: Charisma?    Sparky: Nope. Charisma is part of power. LOOK, that isn’t the point. Musutafu has its number one power couple back and that is all that matters. OK, GREAT EXPLOSION MURDER GOD DYNAMITE!    Guile: Whatever. I’m ignoring my phone from now on. Call if there is an emergency. It better be something Deku’s dumbass can't handle. I don’t want to go back on my word with her already. I promised to be there for her more. I don’t always need to be on scene and WHY AM I TELLING YOU BOTH THIS! NIGHT! 

Katsuki tosses his phone onto the coffee table, wincing at the clack it made as it bumped your phone. “All good?” you ask him as you turn on your side and snuggle into him.  His arms wrap around you tightly and he gives you a nice, tight, bear hug.  “As long as you are here, always.”     He leans down over you and you lean up towards him and kiss him. Softly and sweetly. Promises being shared in the short, smooth exchange of affection.  You both relax back into the couch and sigh. Not knowing what the next day holds for the two of you but knowing that whatever it was that you both would face the it together. That day, the next and the one after that.  From now on you would be a team and support each other better than you had before. This was the quiet resolution and promise that you made to each other and vowed to not break.    

Your lids grew heavy and you nuzzled into a thick pec, using it as a pillow as you faded off into a peaceful slumber. Katsuki watching you for several more minutes before he too succumbed to the siren call of rest.  Placing another kiss on top of your scalp. His feelings blossoming into a beautiful Chrysanthemum he would ensure to protect and nurture better from here on out and forever.    Fin 

[petri808]

Twiyor AU

“Please?!” The women begs. “I heard you were some kind of Cupid; can’t you help me find a match?”

It’s another day and another coffee shop I’ve found myself in. I’d grown used to these requests, even though I’ve given up on love. Ever since the rumors spread during my college years of how my relationship recommendations equaled 100% success, it’s a never-ending routine of requests. I don’t know if it’s so perfect, and frankly don’t care anymore. Because you see, I have a gift… Take this woman sitting across the table. I can see that her hearts aura is a yellowish color which means if she falls for someone with a similar color, they’ll be a good match. Getting the gist of what I can do? 

I sit back in my chair and take a sip from my coffee cup. “I don’t actually find you a match. You show me someone you’re interested in, and I’ll tell you if I think you’re a good match.”

“Oh…” the woman deflates in her chair. “I see… There isn’t anyone I’m interested in right now.”

“Then you can always contact me when you’re ready.” I throw on a professionally fake smile and stand up from the table. “Have a nice day ma’am.”

That was a waste of my time, but at least I got free coffee out of it. On my way back home, my friend texts me to see how the meeting had gone. Franky, the pest. This is all his fault, the A.K.A. rumor starter and only person who knows my secret. He even set up a website for people to find me… how thoughtful, so now my free time is taken up by this pseudo part-time job. 

‘She didn’t read the description on the website,’ I text Franky back, ‘so it was a bust.’

I’m not a warm-hearted guy who’s doing this out of the kindness of my heart or care about other people’s happiness. Do you have any idea how annoying it is to see all the successful pairings when I’ve never had one in my twenty-eight years? All the thank you cards, photos, and wedding invitations from the successful pairings filled with syrupy sweetness. It’s enough to make my teeth hurt. 

My phone pings, it’s Franky again. ‘Oh well she’ll be back.’

No doubt, I sigh and toss my apartment keys onto the counter before dropping onto the sofa. I’ve still got a couple more hours to kill so I close my eyes as the memories of failures run their course. Not to brag, but I know I’m a good-looking guy who’s been popular all through high school, college, even now as a salary man. Perfect blonde hair, striking blue eyes, fit build— you’d think finding a partner of my own would be easy, right? Not so. Not only can I see the hearts aura, which is akin to a person’s essence, but also their emotions in the moment like a halo glowing above their heads. Women always look at me with a superficial lust, judging me based on appearance and those ones disinterest me the most. The few times I’ve dated, it was those halos again revealing what they really thought about me. Some cheated or maybe didn’t really love me anymore, but the worst were lies. People can so easily lie, but their emotions never do with their background dark greens and browns giving it all away. Eventually, it gets tiring to even try and besides, it’s not like I know my own color to guide me. Maybe then I’d find a better match without having to play the guessing game…

It’s Friday night, and it’s Valentine’s Day, so why am I at the bar with Franky? Ugh, I’m such an idiot for letting him talk me into this. ‘We’re both bachelors,’ he’d pitched, ‘maybe we’ll get lucky.’ Well, lucks never been much of a friend and I’m more likely to end up with a stomachache. 

For a Valentine’s Day the bar is comfortably full, a mixture of couples and hopefuls looking to change their status. As one could imagine, there are a lot of reds and pinks hovering over heads, then a scattered variety over the rest. I’d seen quite a few potential matches while walking in, but too bad for them that several of the couples aren’t among them. 

“Loid, I just don’t get it man.” Franky squeezes and shakes my shoulder. “So, what if it might end? Sometimes gotta go through a few snags before landing the right fish. You shouldn’t rely on that gift of yours so much and just take a chance.”

Sitting at the counter with my back to it all is the best option. All the fish in this bar that Franky’s yapping about is not for me, and I’d rather not be reminded of it. Just shut up and let me drink! 

I set my drink onto the bar top. “I’ve taken enough chances and I’m over it for now.”

“Tch,” Franky let’s go with a harumph. “Fine, then back to me.” He turns his body to scan the room. “Oh, hello! Beauty just walked in!”

“Maybe beauty will like a beast like you.” I snicker without looking.

“Pfft! Well, she’s looking this way… staring actually!” Franky slaps my chest in rapid succession with the back of his hand. “Take a look, is she a fit for me??”

I doubt it, I think to myself as I turn to look. It’s not that I don’t doubt she’s pretty cause Franky’s tastes only run to models but—

“Rainbow…” the words wisp from my lips before my brain can catch up to the scene. A raven-haired beauty staring in our direction so strongly it sends chills shooting down my spine. Who is this woman? It’s the first time I’ve ever seen someone with a rainbow color! Most are just one, maybe two tops but not her, she’s literally sparkling like a character in a comic. 

“Rainbow?” I hear Franky parrot but I’m too mesmerized to care or remember he is next to me. He’s asking more questions… jabbing my side, but all I can is do is watch— frozen to my seat as she moves towards us from the front door. My breathing slows as she gets within a meter’s length. 

Her eyes flash as a beaming smile takes over, sending my heart into a tizzy and breathing to a halt. 

“Wow!” She grabs my hand forcefully without hesitation, as if willed by an invisible force. “I’ve never seen a rainbow aura before on anyone else. You’re just like me!”

Huh? What? Come again?! My head tips slightly in confusion. “I’m sorry? Did you say I have the rainbow aura? Ma’am, you have the rainbow aura.”

“No, you do.” She smiles brighter. “We both do.”

“Y-You can see… my color?”

“Yeah,” her eyes sparkle again.

Sparkling like ruby gemstones glinting off the bars backlit liquor display. Her gaze is a sirens lullaby slowing time itself— I can’t look away… just taking in the vision of long dark hair against creamy light skin on slim yet toned features. The yellowish orange excitement surrounding her head is slowing melting into a reddish orange. I feel the heat rising on my cheeks the longer I stare, my own color no doubt changing to red as well if the surprised look on her face is any indication. Shit! This is the first time this ability has made me feel so self-conscience! 

“Tch,” I hear Franky’s annoyed tone, “I’ll catch ya later Loid.”

“Yeah…” I respond back without breaking eye contact with the woman. I’d forgotten he was even there. 

“I’m sorry for interrupting sir.” The woman directs her words towards Franky who merely nods and walks away before turning back to me. “Um… mister Loid?” 

Her voice snaps me out of the void. “Oh, yes. Sorry how rude of me,” I quickly gesture to Franky’s now vacant bar stool. “Please, if you’ll join me.” 

Considering the enthusiastic lack of hesitation earlier, now it’s so cute how this beauty’s turned shy. I do my best to focus on her and not look at the colors dancing around her because Franky did have a point about not relying on auras. Though from the rosy hue of her cheeks, coyly down-casted eyes and upturned lips, to the fidgeting fingers in her lap it’s obvious which emotions are plaguing her. 

I take her trembling hand and kiss it’s back. “I’m Loid Forger,” I flash a smile, “and you are?”

She pulls her hand back only to tuck some loose tendrils behind her ear in a nervous gesture. “M-My name is Yor Briar. I’m sorry for the sudden intrusion, I was just so happy to see someone else like me I couldn’t stop myself.”

“It’s okay,” I smile sweetly. “I’m happy too, but I don’t want to ruin your plans either, are you meeting someone here?”

“Ah!” She suddenly straightens out as if remembering suddenly, turns and scans the room as she continues talking. “Yes, my co-worker… but I don’t… see her yet.” Yor let’s out an exhale of relief. “She’ll be surprised to see me sitting with a man.”

“Oh?”

Yor blushes again with her shoulders slumping in embarrassment. “I—I’ve always been too shy to deal with men.”

I chuckle lightly, “but I bet with your looks there’s been many suitors.”

So adorable! I laugh internally at how cute she is, because if Yor blushes anymore fiercely her hair might catch fire. She turns her gaze fully to the floor unable to meet my eyes.

“I could say the same for you.” Yor responds in a soft voice. “Besides, I’d never met my hearts match before.”

Now it’s my turn to blush. So, she knows how the colors work, I shouldn’t be surprised considering it didn’t take me long to figure it out either. In middle school when classmates started dating, I began noticing a pattern between the couples that lasted and the couples that didn’t. I don’t think those relationships were as stable though because even those with the same color would sometimes break up, so it wasn’t until college that I fully understood. Anyway, there is one difference between us. 

I sigh light-heartedly, “neither had I,” before perking up again, “but at least you can see your own aura, because I can’t that made it more difficult to know who would be a match.”

“Oh, really?” Yor perks up as well and meets my gaze. “I suppose that’s true.” 

After ordering new drinks, our conversation continues for several more minutes before Yor’s friend finally shows up. Based on the interweaved green and red pulsing around her, the female coworker whose name is Millie is jealous that Yor caught my attention. So, they’ve come tonight as part of the hopeful crowd. Sorry Millie, but my hearts already taken. 

“So, exactly what is it you do Mr. Forger?” Millie questions with a grilling tone to her voice. 

Is she asking for her friend’s sake or for her own. Not that it matters to me. I throw on my fake professional smile for the woman. “I’ve always been great at understanding people, so I became a psychiatrist. It’s my own practice but I do work for the hospital as well as provide pro bono services for the local orphanage.” 

“Wow,” Millie keeps her outward expressions emotionless trying to hide her annoyance. “You’re such a great guy to help those orphans. Yor’s lucky to have met you.”

Oh, the flickering jealousy is so amusing. Millie’s eyes almost pop out of their sockets in surprise. A philanthropist doctor?! She’s practically seething over it, so why not go in for a kill shot? Shut this woman up and impress Yor at the same time, it’s two birds with one stone. “I do it because I enjoy it. Those kids have gone through a traumatic experience, so I couldn’t help but be moved— enough so, that I ended up adopting a bright little girl named Anya who really captured my heart.”

My chest puffs out unconsciously when I see Yor’s face brighten like a blooming rose and Millie’s faux smile falters. I already know we’re a good match, but I want Yor to want me for more than just some supernatural power. Plus, the story isn’t a complete lie. Originally, I adopted Anya for a tax write off— yes, I know that’s despicable, but it didn’t take long for the precocious child to win over my heart. 

Millie recovers quickly and redirects toward her friend. “Are you willing to be a stepmom Yor?” She asks no doubt hoping her friend will be taken aback at a sudden change like motherhood. 

“Yes!” Yor replies quicker than I’d expected and with much enthusiasm. She’s practically on the edge of her seat, eyes sparkling at such an idea. “I don’t mind at all. After my parents died, I had to take care of my younger brother, so I have a lot of experience already though…” Yor shrinks back a little. “I’m not a very good cook.”

Oh, this is perfect! My smile brightens. “I’m sure you’d make an amazing mother Yor.” But, perhaps it’s time to let things marinate a little as well. “Well lady’s,” I stand up from my seat. “It’s been fun, but I must get up early to pick my daughter up from her sleepover tomorrow, so it’s time for me to leave. You both have fun.” I then take Yor’s hand again and place a chaste kiss to the back of the knuckles. “Though you, not too muchfun,” I tease, “may I contact you tomorrow?”

Yor’s rainbow aura shimmers along with the flash of an embarrassed and beaming smile. “Y-Yes! Of course, I look forward to it.”

Me too, Ms. Briar… me too… 

Did my aura just shimmer too as if calling out to its match? I can’t see my own aura but somehow it sure feels that way. I squeeze her hand with a final kiss to her cheek. “Then till tomorrow.”

The moment I’ve turned my back to them, I can’t help but smile to myself. Such a totally unexpected event! I’ll thank Franky later. Tis a Happy Valentine’s Day after all…

[bunnin-incorperated]

Alan, in all his wisdom, had decided to burn out his engines and splash down directly in the middle of the North Atlantic Ocean. Nice move, Alan. Shit, the ocean came into view, shit shit shit shit! “Gordon…Can I get an ETA? Please?” He tried Thunderbird Three’s controls again, but nothing, the ship was entirely dead. And turns out, so was the radio. Oh no, and there it was, the sea itself. Oh, this is gonna hurt, looking back, Alan wonders why that of all things was his last thought before he hit the water. 

He woke up again to pain and blaring alarms, he knew he couldn’t have been out for more than max two minutes. Anything longer than that and he probably would’ve had some serious brain damage. Thunderbird Three was at an awkward tilt at that point, but it was enough of a downwards tilt that Alan could feasibly slide down to the end of the cockpit and try and reset TB3’s system.

He tried to stand but saw something red drip through his vision. Oh joy, a head wound! Caused by glass! “Great, no that's good,” okay, comms back online first, he thought to himself, sliding down, he felt so weak, he felt pathetic. He flicked a few switches and pulled out the lever, then he twisted and “ALAN?! ALAN do you copy!?” Alan crawled back up, keeping himself awake, “Copy, this is Thunderbird Three,” Alan leaned into his completely fried control panel.

“Alan! Thunderbird Three what's your status?” Oh, Alan realized it’s Gordon, “Losing a lot of blood, and Brains is going to have fun with Three.” He held in a cough, “Losing how much blood exactly?” Oh, that's Virgil, “A lott,” Alan didn’t notice how he slurred his words, but Gordon and Virgil definitely did. “Okay, Alan, no matter what, do not close your eyes, Gordon is almost there,” Alan hardly heard Virgil, but nodded anyway. 

He was trying to keep his eyes open, he really was, but sleep sounded so nice. NO! No, he couldn’t fall asleep. If he fell asleep now, he would probably never wake up. “Alan, we’re here,” Alan's head shot up, hearing Gordon’s voice felt like a miracle (it honestly probably was), “Copy that Gordon, but I think we may have another issue,” He tried to get up, but failed, “I can’t movve,” once again, Alan slurred his words.

Not good. Gordon sped up, now going as fast as his engines would let him, He couldn’t believe he’d let Alan go on this mission alone. Alan was his little brother and Gordon had failed him. Now, Alan was hurt. Gordon's little brother was hurt and alone and the only thing he could do about it was wait. What kind of absolute rubbish was that? He had a course set and his engines on full blast and yet he still couldn’t be fast enough.

“Alan, talk to me, what's going on, just in life?” Gordon asked, in hopes of keeping his brother awake. Virgil was on the other line talking with Brains, John, and an Informant from the organization that Alan had just saved (presumably an engineer of some sorts), talking about who knows what. If Gordon's memory serves, his name was Tesla.

That didn’t really matter right now, all that mattered was Alan. All that mattered was that his little brother was safe. And Alan would only be safe once Gordon got him to Virgil. “Uhhh well…” Alan started, his voice hardly registering over the comms. “Physics is kinda sucking right now, it’s all mathy and annoying, I liked it more when it was mainly logic, maths is worse, we’re doing all sorts of trigonometry, y’know, triangles and stuff, and it's super annoying and complex. English has never been a thing I’m good at and we’re doing latin ‘n shit now days so I’m trying really hard not to fail that right now…”

Alan went on, and every time he paused, Gordon had a mini heart attack. One extra long pause scared him, genuinely, “Alan, are you still there?” Another pause, “Alan…?” Thunderbird Three came into view, praise whatever god was out there. “Alan, Alan I’m here!” Gordon said, “Alan, I’m going to doc, then I’m coming to get you,” still no reply. 

Gordon proceeded to dock Thunderbird Four to Thunderbird Three through the secondary airlock. There we go…THERE WE GO! Gordon opened the airlock via security code, then slid down to the cockpit. Gordon tried to put in the security code for the door, said door, was fucking jammed. 

Gordon slammed his entire body weight into the door. Once, twice, click. He got his hand between the door and the wall and pushed against the door with all his weight, even shoving it open with his legs, he rolled down the cockpit to Alan, still awake, “Hey Alan, buddy, lets go, its cold in here,” Gordon slipped Alan onto his arm, taking his younger brothers weight. 

“It is colld,” Alan mumbled, “hey, eyes open Alan c’mon,” Gordon was almost begging his brother at that point. Just to keep his eyes open a little longer. Thunderbird Four had medical supplies, but it wasn’t meant for head wounds. “Alan please don’t die on me,” Gordon whispered, partly to himself, partly to fait. “Ohhhh c’mmon Gordy! I feel fffine!” Alan tried waved him off, but Gordon basically had a death grip on the younger boy. 

“We want to be warm right?” Gordon smiled, trying his best to make it not seemed forced. “So where’re we goooiing?” Alan slurred, “Just Thunderbird Four, in house heating and all!” Gordon was still trying to smile. But it was getting pretty hard to do, the two managed to get back down to Thunderbird Four. Immediately Gordon slid Alan onto the passenger seat of Thunderbird Four, and slipped a thermo-blanket around his younger brother.

“Just stay there okay,” Gordon smiled, still forced, wrapping one of the bandages Thunderbird Four had on board as a temporary solution. To say Gordon ‘rushed’ to the surface would be one hell of an understatement. “Hey, you awake Alan?” Gordon asked, still smiling-Well, trying to smile anyways. “Mhm, ‘m awake,” Alan sure as hell didn’t sound like it, “Stay awake baby brother, stay awake,” he hardly whispered the two surfaced, “Thunderbird Two, get us up there, now,” Gordon glanced back to Alan “TB3?” Gordon whispered, terrified of what he would do with himself if Alan didn’t answer.

“Copy,” Alan muttered, Thunderbird Four suddenly lurched upwards. “LORD ALMIGHTY VIRGIL! A little warning?” Gordon snapped, immediately looking back to check on Alan, who gave his older brother a shaky thumbs up. Virgil immediately helped Alan into Thunderbird Two’s mini-medical bay, and flew straight to Tracy Island. “ETA seven minutes, he’ll be okay.” The resident medic tried his best to soothe Gordon’s anxiety. It didn’t work too well, but he tried to convince himself that it would be fine and Alan would be okay. 

“What’s up with those space guys anyways?” Gordon tried to distract himself with the question, “some contractor colony thing, with a disturbing amount of  weapons at their disposal, why?” Virgil glanced at Gordon, “Just wondering who I should blame for Alan’s current condition, he’s stable, right?” The younger replied, looking straight into the horizon. “Yes, he’s stable, he’ll be okay Gordon,” Virgil looked in the same direction. “If you have to know, the Informant or Ambassador, I guess, called himself ‘Doctor Jasper Tesla’ Brains chewed him out if that gives you any closure.” The older shrugged, “...Thanks I’ll keep that name in mind.”

[cosmicallyavg]

okay besties as an ace person i never would have thought in a million years that i would be capable of wanting to write a ✨ mature ✨ fic, let alone actually Writing said fic. but i am fr so close to publishing one and im very proud of myself bc this shit is so good even though it took me like 4 months to write (bc im So awkward about this stuff that i had to take lots of breaks or else i would have combusted) like its certainly not Explicit but it is Mature i would say.. like when i tag it on ao3 i think i can do mature and be okay. just know that i am so proud of myself for doing this and im so excited to post it very soon