#>:0000???!!!!??!??? i never considered that before???

[unknown-lifeform]

Ok but like. I've been thinking of technology in ff7 and parallels between the ff7 timeline and ours and honestly the differences just. They make sense. More than this first paragraph does for sure at least

So. Let's try to assume that the year 0000 in ff7 corresponds to our 2000. So the 90's in ff7 correspond to our 90's, the 80's to our 80's, and so on. Obviously there are some massive differences in technological advancement, especially with Remake/Rebirth giving people smartphones as opposed to the flip phones of the earlier games. If we go with the Remake/Rebirth version, that's more advanced than our early 2000's. Robotics and AI are obviously ages ahead in ff7 compared to us. Possibly bioengineering too, but that can be explained by ff7 having mako and monsters and Jenova when we obviously don't.

But when you think about it, it makes sense. It's about war. Shinra has been actively at war for decades before canon (Wutai in the 90's, and before that the Junon Republic). And it's also fundamentally a technological juggernaut with endless money to throw at research. Robotics and AI being advanced? Shinra uses mechas as weapons, sometimes Wutai never seems to have done. Of course that sector is way more developed, Shinra had an interest in making better, smarter weapons. Smartphones? Obviously developing communication technology is important if you want to take over the world. And once the war is over, Shinra can charmingly recycle their discoveries in things people will like

We can consider instead what the ff7 world doesn't have. There are no high speed trains, or long distance trains at all. Shinra doesn't have a use for it. Wutai was an island so trains wouldn't get Shinra there. Rebirth tells us the Republic of Junon had plenty of roads, but Shinra let them fall apart after taking over, because no use for roads when you can fly your operatives around, and everyone else can suck it up. Why would they even think about things like trains? There are also no power plants outside of mako reactors, obviously, and the only traces that energy sources other than mako were ever used are Corel's abandoned coal mines and as for Rebirth some abandoned Junon era windmills. Oh, and the abandoned oil fields On the Way to a Smile mentions. None are exactly the latest technology when it comes to energy production. Because Shinra would have to be insane to invest a single cent in any kind of energy research that isn't mako

And of course, space technology. In our world, Yuri Gagarin was in space in 1961, and we had people on the moon before the end of the 60's. And why was that? Because of the space race, because we had the Cold War, and sending someone into space was an amazing way to show off your country was the best country, and so both the US and the USSR funneled money into space research. In ff7? There was no Cold War. No rush to develop space technology by the 60's. Maybe the Republic of Junon or whoever would have worked it out at a slower pace, but then Shinra started its very much not cold wars, and there was no reason to invest into a space program then. Not when money and resources could make weapons, instead of rockets. Only after the end of the Wutai War was Cid sent to go into space - as a publicity stunt from Shinra, of course. And when his launch failed (for safety issues, may I add), Shinra didn't bother to make another. No point in it. No need to show how great your technology is when no one else on the Planet is making technology

I mean I'm sure Shinra has satellites because they gotta make those smartphones work somehow. But as of the early 2000's, no one was into space. Shinra's space program is scrapped, and has Palmer of all people in charge. It seems the only people who actually care to study the universe are the planetologists in Cosmo Canyon. So is astrophysics just considered some useless hippy science in the ff7 world? You can't squeeze mako out of space, so let's just not bother with it ever?

I'm just having a massive moment about technological advancement and scientific research being subservient to whatever the latest global imperialist superpower and what its practical wants and needs are. And also how in ff7 the only scientists we see are either on the Shinra payroll, all on varying levels of unethical experimentation, or in Cosmo Canyon, which I don't think gets a lot of research grants on average, or the engineers left jobless around in Rocket Town after the failed lunch. Want a career in science, either get consumed by the evil megacorporation and lose whatever morals you might have had, or get fucked

[owl127]

I have an ask : People around Clarke always assumed she would present as an omega because of the way she looks. So it’s a surprise when she turns out to be an alpha, and a rather powerful one at that. Can you write something with her slowly expressing herself as more and more masculine, while omega lexa supports her through it and actually likes the changes ?

read on ao3

Lexa had a crush.

She wouldn't act on it, since she had two important factors to consider: one, her crush was her best friend, and if she confessed and they ended up in teenage drama, who would eat the second scoop of ice cream she always ordered but never finished? And two, her friend was not an alpha. Most omegas in school said she should only have crushes on alphas, and that was final. Lexa had to focus on college applications anyway. There was no time for romance.

Her beautiful, chubby-cheeked best friend crush would probably wash away as she met new people.

That last summer before college, Lexa kissed Clarke's cheek on the Griffin's rooftop and watched red tinge her friend's freckles. That was enough, Lexa thought. It was better for both of them when they parted ways.

She didn't see Clarke until next summer.

0000

"Who's that?" Lexa asked her brother as they unloaded the van at the lake parking lot. Her father insisted her first weekend home from college should be filled with as many family activities as possible, so the Woods van was overflowing with floaties, food, and fighting between Lexa's younger siblings.

"Who?" Adam, his hair in a bird's nest from Igor's pulling, looked at the lake in the direction Lexa pointed.

"Surf pedaling," Lexa explained, eyes fixed on the broad back under the sunlight.

Adan chuckled. "You must have hit your head in college. That's Clarke."

Clarke.  The name echoed in Lexa's head like a pebble disturbing calm waters.

She knew Clarke had been a late bloomer, presenting as an alpha a mere few weeks after Lexa had left for her early summer orientation. She had texted Clarke over the months, seen pictures of her dorm, friends, and... not a lot of pictures of herself.

Because, whoa. Alphahood had done things.

"Everything alright, pumpkin?" Her father asked, Igor around his neck playing with his beard. 

Lexa swallowed and nodded. She looked back at the lake and at the tight fit of a bikini that did nothing to hide defined biceps and deltoids. Bright orange shorts sat loosely on thighs that long ago Lexa had laid her head on and confessed about believing in fairy tales. She did not allow her brain to dwell on why Clarke wore shorts and not her usual bikini bottom, because that would be a point of no return. And finally, Lexa also did not overthink about the high golden bun showing an undercut or how soft the baby hairs would be under Lexa's fingers. She did not think of any of that, but when she blinked, her family was on the shore setting up their tent, and a bright, bright smile was emerging from the lake with sparkling eyes, and fuck, Lexa had a problem.

Clarke's skin was hot despite being on the lake, and Lexa felt her feet being pulled off the ground in a bear hug. Since when could Clarke lift her like that?

"Lexa! It's great to see you!" 

Lexa must have replied something with her half-functioning brain, because Clarke continued to talk about summer plans, hikes, ice cream, and girlfriends—

Lexa snapped to attention.

"She'll be here for the fourth, and I want you to meet her." 

And just like that, wet from a hug on a grainy lake shore, Lexa realized that her high school crush was back.

0000

Lexa met Clarke's girlfriend with a smudged flag on her cheek. She had skyped Anya (the entire family had), and she surrendered to Igor's face painting while being infused by her deployed, patriotic sister. Unprepared and high on sugar and corn dogs, Lexa saw Clarke approach her with a girl whose name she found really hard to remember.

It wasn't the fact that Clarke’s girlfriend was gorgeous that bothered Lexa, or that she seemed genuinely in love with Clarke. It was the similarities. Brunette. Green eyes. Omege, thin, pre-law: the girl checked all the boxes Lexa did, and in a way, that made it harder to dislike her.

While Clarke's dad and Lexa's mom worked on the fireworks—Abby and Gustus were always in charge of the barbecue—Lexa watched Clarke sneak out with her. She didn't overthink it. Lexa was not going to let that ruin her holiday.

As the fireworks painted the sky and Clarke reappeared with a hickey, Lexa thought that, maybe, it could have been her mark on Clarke’s neck instead.

0000

Four states away, their friendship survived on meme exchanges and Snapchat. Lexa got to know Detective, the black cat Clarke had adopted, and Clarke knew all about Lexa's extracurriculars, from lacrosse to debate. When a new semester approached and Lexa noted that a certain brunette had vanished from Clarke's feed, it was a natural decision to accept Clarke's invitation to spend spring break volunteering as teachers to underprivileged children. It would look great on Lexa's resume, and hanging out with a single Clarke for a week was not a bad idea.

The button-up Clarke wore for their first-day orientation meeting was making a miraculous effort to remain buttoned. As the months passed, Clarke seemed to gain muscle, and when she hugged Lexa at the airport, her voice had a lower tone that made Lexa's toes tingle. Obviously unrelated to her crush, Lexa would swear at court.

The volunteer team escaped to a happy hour for their first day, and Clarke's shirt was relieved of its weight when two buttons popped open. Lexa's eyes were trying and failing not to stare, and if the shy but intense looks she exchanged with Clarke between tequila shots were any indication, Clarke had noticed.

This could be it. They were still half a dozen states away, but Lexa could finally act on her crush. Clarke offered to walk Lexa back to her hotel room, and she low-key panicked and hid in the bathroom for 15 minutes, growing the courage to act. She should have had another shot, but well, this would have to do.

Lexa finally emerged from the bathroom to see another volunteer, an omega, with her hands on Clarke's thigh—which were jumping inside those slacks, not that Lexa had stared during half the meeting. The omega ran her hand up and down Clarke's thigh, and Lexa watched the blush from Clarke’s cheeks trail down to the skin revealed by the open buttons. Clarke looked around, and Lexa didn't know what had taken over her body, but she hid behind a pillar and ignored her vibrating phone.

Ten minutes later, Clarke left with the omega.

Aware of her fear and self-sabotage, Lexa left with the first alpha who bought her another shot of tequila.

There were no other chances during that week, and Lexa felt slightly vindicated when she saw Clarke asking the omega not to call her as they boarded the plane back to school.

It didn't matter, though. Lexa had no hopes that it could actually be her this time.

0000

500 candidates, one single spot: that was the competition Lexa went through to get that internship. She used existing and non-existing connections, aced the interviews, and now was responsible for the coffee and meetings annotation of a prestigious law firm. Unpaid, of course, and overworked, as it usually was. But it was one step closer to building the perfect law student resume.

It was in week nine of the ten-week program that she got the call. Her mom called at 11 p.m., which was unusual in itself, but Lexa's heart stopped when she heard the soft sniffing.

"Mom? What's going on?" The highlighter in her hand streaked bright pink on her page as she heard the news.

"No, no. I'm going," Lexa insisted.

"But your internship."

"I'll present my proposal virtually. They’ll understand." She had no idea if they would understand, but Lexa had no other choice. She wanted to do this. Her heart was broken, and all she could think about on her flight home were sad, sad blue eyes.

Lexa barely had time to change when she arrived, and they were almost late by the time the Woods van stopped at the crowded parking lot.

In a dark suit, Clarke was a wall. Broad shoulders were steady and supportive as Abby clung to her daughter like a lifeline, shaking, allowing Clarke’s arm to keep her upright. Abby was devastated, a shadow of the usual strong alpha, which was to be expected from anyone who had just lost a mate.

While the funeral continued under the late July sun, Clarke sweated in her suit and nodded to everyone who stopped to give them their condolences. Her jaw twitched when Lexa hugged her, and her large, warm hands trembled on Lexa's back. Lexa didn't know what to say, so she didn't say anything. I'm sorry sounded pitiful, and Clarke's eyes were tired of pity.

Jake's funeral reception was at the Griffins home, and Abby disappeared in her room less than an hour later with pills her sister from Philly told her would help.

"She hasn't slept since the accident," Clarke explained, and Lexa shook her head.

"I'd be high on Xanax if I were your mom too," Lexa offered, to which Clarke's aunt scoffed and Clarke offered a small, tired smile.

Lexa's parents lingered to help clean up, and Lexa lingered because Clarke also looked like she hadn't slept in days and she wanted to do something about it. Guests left one by one, and Lexa told her parents she would Uber back home. In the quiet kitchen smelling of stale appetizers, Lexa watched Clarke fidget with her watch. It was large and leather strapped, and Lexa's heart sank a little further when she noticed it was Jake's.

"Hey." She touched Clarke's shoulder. It relaxed under the slight pressure of her fingers. "Why don't we go to your room and watch a movie or something?"

Clarke's eyes were red-rimmed from exhaustion, since Lexa hadn't seen her shed a single tear. The alpha nodded and let Lexa guide her to her own bedroom upstairs. In a way, it was like they were ten again. In every other possible way, it wasn’t.

Without a word, Clarke laid on her bed, her back to Lexa. Lexa panicked for a second, unsure if she should leave, but then Clarke looked over her shoulders and shifted to make room in the twin bed. Lexa slipped out of her heels and joined her best friend. At first, nothing happened, and the only sound in the room was from the steady, circular motion Lexa's hand painted on Clarke's back.

It took half an hour for Clarke to start sobbing, and Lexa hugged her back and clung to her while her best friend broke down in ugly grief. Clarke cried until she passed out, her shoulders finally relaxing after the worst day of her life.

Lexa took off Clarke's jacket, her shoes, and her belt. She watched her sleep until the sun peeked at the window. She sat on the bed to strap her shoes on and leave, but Clarke held her hand. Lexa’s hand felt smaller in between those calloused fingers; since when did Clarke have hands like that?

"Stay?" 

Lexa found sleepy, exhausted eyes staring at her. "Just a little longer." Clarke’s voice broke at the end, and Lexa lay back down on the bed.

"Anything you need."

"What about... what about your internship? You were so nervous about your presentation." Lexa wanted to slap Clarke for worrying about that while dehydrated from crying after her dad's funeral.

"Fuck it," Lexa breathed, hugging Clarke closer. "This is more important."

Outside, birds welcome the new day, insensitive to the grieving home.

Inside, Clarke started crying again.

0000

Clarke didn't go back to college that fall semester. She got a temp job as a personal trainer, and Adam was one of her clients. That arrangement made it very difficult for Lexa to ignore the evolution of Clarke's biceps and posteriors while it appeared on her brother's stories every week. That was not the reason why Lexa would check Adam's Instagram at all; she was simply a concerned sister, of course.

The fact that Lexa did not hook up with anyone that semester was another interesting coincidence. And the alleged fact that the thought of Clarke's body heat from their night sleeping together would make Lexa instantly horny was debatable, at best. The reason why Lexa wore makeup for her flight home for Christmas was only because she wanted to get used to being more professional—a prerequisite for any respectable lawyer—and not because Adam had posted a selfie with Clarke as they helped with decorations in Lexa's living room.

That all being clear, Lexa was not prepared to open the door to her childhood home and find Clarke in a tank top carrying two boxes of Christmas apparatus from the attic. Lexa stared until Anya tapped her chin closed, and then she was berated by her older sister for not being happier that she was back home.

"You didn't die; I'm happy!" Lexa tossed back her head and blushed when Clarke hugged her, unashamedly lifting her up.

"Looking good, Lexa!" Clarke beamed, her nose red and a slight layer of sweat pooling at her temples. Her hair was shorter but still up in a bun, showing the recently shaved undercut.

"C'mon, we need to pick up the tree." Anya threw her arm around Clarke's neck, and Lexa noted that Clarke was an inch taller than her sister. When did that happen? "And stop ogling my sister. I have a gun, and I know how to use it." Both Lexa and Clarke erupted in blushes, and Anya nodded, dead serious. "Now let's go, or dad will flip if we don't get a good one."

Having the Griffins for Christmas looked like the start of a new tradition. Abby had lost weight, and both Indra and Gustus spent half the night trying to convince her to eat more. Clarke, on the other hand, had focused her grief in the gym, and even under winter layers, Lexa could always catch a glimpse of muscle. She tried to distract herself with Anya’s infamous eggnog, but it backfired spectacularly, as Lexa had the alcohol tolerance of a hamster. By the time Igor and Adam had retired to check out Adam’s new PS5, Clarke had offered to drive her mother home. Lexa, a little tipsy and uncaring, invited herself to join the ride, and Gustus nodded from his place in the kitchen when a red-eyed Anya talked in low tones with her dad. Yikes; Lexa did not want to stay and watch the aftermath of Anya talking about war with their veteran dad. So Lexa found herself in Clarke’s sedan, a beaten-up Honda she had bought with the money from selling Jake’s car. The rest would be to help pay her tuition, she had argued, since she had plans to go back in the spring.

Abby waved them good night and went straight to her room, but she shared a glance with Clarke before going up the stairs. Lexa wondered what that could be since it made the tips of Clarke’s ears pink.

They ended up trying to climb out the window of Clarke’s room to hang out on the rooftop like they did when they were kids, but the eggnog had hit hard for Lexa to forget it was freaking December and everything was icy. She barely placed her foot outside the window before collapsing back onto Clarke’s carpet. Her fall was softened, though, and Lexa realized Clarke had cushioned her fall as the alpha chucked from beneath her.

"I told you it was a bad idea," Clarke grunted, but didn’t move from the floor.

"No, you didn’t."

"I’m saying it now!" They burst out laughing again, drunkenly shushing each other for the raucous, but there was no noise from Abby’s room. Lexa stood up and made to help Clarke from the floor, but she was heavier than Lexa remembered, and they stumbled on Clarke’s bed in another pile of laughter.

Laughing with Clarke was contagious and comfortable, and it was either Anya's eggnog or Clarke's smile, but Lexa laughed until her belly hurt. Clarke joined her, their limbs entangled, the sheets wet from their coats, and it all was hilarious for Lexa. They finally calmed down until Lexa realized she was the only one chuckling. Clarke's cheeks, red from the cold, were warm to the touch, and the alpha's lips parted; her eyes glazed over with happiness and alcohol. Lexa's hand remained there, and she thumbed her beauty mark.

"You're handsome," Lexa whispered as if it were a secret, and felt Clarke gasp. Clarke's palm overtook Lexa's in size and warmth, lying on top of Lexa's fingers. Lexa didn't feel like laughing anymore; the heat in her belly was turning and changing. Eyes on Lexa, Clarke turned her face, her mouth under Lexa's touch, and Lexa's brain tried really hard to grasp what was going on, stumbling and struggling with the senses of touch, sight, and vision. When the surviving brain cells gathered their final report, an undignified sound escaped Lexa's throat, to which Clarke raised an eyebrow; but Lexa's brain was as correct as it could be in its assignment: the warm and wet touch in Lexa's sensitive palm was indeed Clarke's tongue, and the rat's squeak of a sound was Lexa's attempt at a moan.

"This okay?" Lexa's brain deescalated from DEFCON 4 as Clarke asked. 

"What are we doing?" Lexa whispered, even though they were the only ones in the room.

"I really want to kiss you right now," Clarke admitted with a confidence Lexa didn’t remember in her shy friend. "I have wanted to kiss you for a long time."

Lexa bit her lips, moving her leg to fit snugly between Clarke’s. "Yeah?"

"Am I finally worthy of you?" 

Lexa read the shade of vulnerability in Clarke’s eyes and touched her friend’s lips. "Don’t say it like that."

"Lexa." Clarke kissed Lexa’s knuckles, and Lexa cleared her throat not to sigh. "It took me a long time to accept who I am and to grow into the woman I am today. I know you didn’t look at me like that before I presented."

Lexa wanted to deny it, but the truth was that her high school crush paled compared to the feeling she had for this mature version of alpha Clarke. Lexa’s cheeks warmed at the thought.

"Dating is not easy for me," Clarke confessed. "Omegas expect me to know everything there is to know about being an alpha, and everything feels so alien sometimes. But... not with you. Never with you. I like when you look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like this." Clarke leaned in slowly, waiting to see if Lexa would stop or pull away. She didn’t. 

The kiss tasted like eggnog and mint, like bubblegum and tea. It was soft but firm, and in high school Lexa would have blue-screened in overdrive, but law student Lexa took that high and rode it. They shuffled over the blankets, kicking off shoes and socks, jackets, and scarves, until Lexa’s nails finally, finally dug into the biceps, whose growth she had followed closely over the years. Clarke helped Lexa straddle her, and holy smokes, Lexa was grinding Clarke on her childhood bead on Christmas night, and it felt as good as coming home.

Clarke was home.

"Fuck, you’re a good kisser," Lexa blurted when they parted for air.

"Thank you. So are you," Clarke replied in the same breathless gasp, her hands warm on Lexa’s hips. Panting, they started at each other, Lexa’s long curls framing their faces and Clarke’s bun on the brink of being undone. Without a warning, they giggled together, and Lexa rolled on her side as the tension slowed to a comfortable silence.

"Why don’t we"—Clarke turned on her side, resting her weight on her elbow as her bun finally surrendered and blonde flopped down to her neck—"watch a movie tonight, kiss some more, and come back to it tomorrow when we’re both sober?"

"You don’t want to do anything with your mom a room away, isn’t it?"

"That too is a concern of mine. She also told me ‘no sex’ before she locked her bedroom, and I take her threats very seriously."

"Oh, my God," Lexa said between her palms as she hid her face. "Your mom thinks I’m a slut! Auntie Abby!"

"No." Clarke coerced Lexa’s hands away from her face and kissed a blushing cheek. "But she knows I have feelings for you."

"Oh, my God." Lexa hid on Clarke’s neck this time.

"I didn’t tell her! She asked, and I wasn’t going to lie."

A green eye peeked from between her fingers. "So you have feelings for me?" Lexa chuckled as Clarke’s blush escalated from pink to crimson. "Hey, hey, I’m joking. We can talk about it later."

Clarke’s relieved sigh almost made Lexa feel bad for teasing her. Almost.

Lexa was lulled to sleep with her nose buried in Clarke’s shoulder, a soft kiss on her forehead, and a large, warm palm resting on her hip. Her high school self would be proud.

[shiningdesignersreflections]

Chapter 1: Destruction - Newborn

Narrated by Glow.

~Content Warning: suicide~

Narrator: That was one of the annihilations that Miraland has been through.

Narrator: Like a raging beast, the seawater had swallowed the city and forest. The land was trembling, the animals were running for dear life, and people were crying... chaos and despair had taken over.

Narrator: Carrying the last elites of mankind, a space shuttle was traveling through the universe. Staring out the window in silence, they bear witness to the demise of their homeland.

Scientist A: I can't believe this is actually happening...

Scientist B: But at least we're still alive. We need to survive to pass on civilization.

??: Beep... Beep...

Narrator: In the space shuttle, the artificial intelligence seemed to be beeping at the mention of "civilization" and "pass on."

Narrator: To the sound of the beeps, the space shuttle traveled further and further away from Miraland, eventually losing sight of it completely.

Narrator: The scientists all came prepared, but they have come across not a single sign of life in the unfathomably huge universe.

Student A: We're quickly running out of all the resources we have with us, but we're still nowhere near the next planet where we can stock back up.

Scientist B: We need a new plan, then. By the way, how is Glow coming along?

Scientist C: Her learning curve isn't looking great. To put things in perspective, the shuttle's navigation system is still smarter than her, not to mention that she can't even speak yet.

??: 0000 0 0100 0100 111...

Narrator: The data appeared to be flowing through the miniature chip. Different permutations of 0 and 1 were constantly refreshed, as they tried to join the conversation.

Narrator: The scientists, however, failed to pick up on her binary greetings. Echoing through the space, her beeps were reminiscent of powerful heartbeats.

Narrator: As the space shuttle travelled through the seemingly never-ending darkness, the scientists carried on with their research with the hope to locate signs of life...

Narrator: ...all the while unaware of a far more insidious disaster looming upon them.

Narrator: The space shuttle became totally lost when a mysterious ocean of stars trapped it.

Scientist A: Where is this? An intangible sea with all the stars... Is this the Ocean of Memories that we read about in the records?

Scientist B: Isn't that just a legend, though?

Narrator: The seawater flooded the space shuttle, stripping its devices of their functions and plunging the space shuttle itself into a nightmare.

Scientist A: A black hole? Why is there a black hole here...?

Narrator: With the sound of the alarm blaring through the space shuttle, people were running in all directions as they screamed.

Scientist C: Damn it, gravity overload. Connection failure... Error! We got errors all over the place!

Narrator: The looming black hole on the screen approached quickly, having just dealt the space shuttle critical damage with its released energy.

Narrator: In the mayhem, the scientists tried everything they could to prevent the worst from happening, but the black hole was still slowly but surely dragging the space shuttle toward it.

??: Hello, human, I am Glow.

Narrator: Amidst the chaos, Glow's mechanical greeting finally turned into what one would consider proper language.

Narrator: With death looming upon them, everyone was filled with despair and horror as they faced the ordeal.

Narrator: Eventually, they gave in to the ordeal, as they crumbled papers filled with formulae, smashed the control panel, and laughed at the insanity that was unfolding before their eyes.

Narrator: Their arguing and blaming quickly escalated to physical attacks or suicide, which took them out one after another.

Narrator: The chaos spared none, except for one physicist, who sat quietly in the space shuttle.

Narrator: She looked at the wrecked devices and the bodies of her colleagues who had met their ends in the most bitter ways possible. Then, as if daydreaming, she said...

Physicist: Will my research ever... bring about a new world?

Narrator: Again and again, in her palm, she wrote down the only thing she had left... that which she had dedicated her whole life to researching. It was the All Things Constant, or 137.

Physicist: I don't want to just... stop here...

Narrator: Then, when the alarm suddenly stopped, the lights were once again ice-cold white.

Glow: Hello, human. I am Glow.

Narrator: Most of those who had worked on bringing about the artificial intelligence were no longer in this world to hear her finally speak.

Narrator: The physicist raised her head. A few moments of hesitation later, she broke into a smile.

Physicist: The tiny light of hope that will never let anything stop her from protecting mankind's civilization, huh? Haha...

Narrator: With tears trickling down her face as she laughed, the physicist greeted the last newborn of this civilization before her.

Physicist: Hi, Glow, I'm a human.

Physicist: We were the group of humans who made you, although we failed miserably at saving our own civilization from destruction.

Narrator: Only an alloy wall away from the physicist now, the black hole opened its arms as it pierced everything standing in its way.

Narrator: In its arms, there was nothingness, and it was from its motherly embrace that everything was born, nurtured, and ultimately engulfed.

Narrator: The poets portrayed it with the most magnificent of poems, and the scientists never stopped pursuing the secret it held. Magnificent and spectacular, it quenched the fantasy of all the explorers of the world.

Narrator: Torn into pieces, the space shuttle sank into the thick darkness.

Narrator: The space shuttle burned and disintegrated into particles so dazzling that, when they vanished, they made for a silent yet most impressive firework show that lit up the Ocean of Memories for an instant.

Narrator: The black hole then quietly swallowed the light and the heat, wiping out every last trace of countless human beings and their civilization...

Narrator: Leaving only one faint glow of light to escape from the black hole itself.

Narrator: Carrying mankind's last hope, the artificial intelligence floated around the edge of the black hole as it stared at the monumental destruction.

Narrator: Glow heard the last whisper of the dying civilization.

Physicist: Please save mankind's civilization, Glow.

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

[sunmoonjune]

This is gonna sound unhinged but I originally read your works because of your satosugu writings and then I found a new love which was your writing?? You just write so well i’ve never been so invested in stories before. I’ve gone through a 10 year long reading lull and you kind of got me back into reading. So then I decided to read all your works like ltm! I did not know Ateez or their music but I read your writing and then I listened to their music and now i’m a fan thanks to you! I just thought I’d share to let you know how much I enjoy your writing and how amazing it is! Are you gonna be watching the new jjk season also?

NO STOP THIS IS A COMPLIMENT I NEVER THOUGHT I'D GET :0000

I can't believe I helped you get into ateez omfg <33 that's genuinely SO cool and makes me SO happy!! welcome to the fandom!! atiny are so sweet and so unhinged so I hope you'll enjoy our craziness xD

I genuinely never considered that I'd help people get into atz through my writing that is actually so cool and made me so excited :}}

also YES!! I will ABSOLUTELY be watching the new season of jjk :DD anything for satosugu <333 (even tho I know it will emotionally DESTORY me :") ) I'm waiting for a friend to catch up with me,, but I'm pretty sure I'll have some inspo to write some more for satosugu when the time comes xD

[25th]

[hansolmates]

remote learning (m)

summary; working remote sucks, and you would love a little relief. after buying a new toy to blow off some steam, you’re baffled when you can’t cum. however, jungkook thinks you’re doing it wrong, and shows you a thing or two. pairing; neighbor!jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; fluff, humor, slightly insecure mc, this is pure FILTH—use of a remote controlled vibrator, do not and i repeat DO NOT try foreplay during a zoom call in the event u get fired im not responsible, phone sex, jungkook’s a meanie in control, cum eating, doggy, and topping it off with some sweet missionary bc jk has purty eyes, unprotected (wrap the pickle before u tickle folks) excessive use of the petname [redacted] w/c; 5.7k a/n; this fic manifested bc of work. and i!! am!! frustrated!! i think we all need a lil jk relief so here it goes! as always ty to @chillingtae​ / @eerieedits​ for this FANTASTIC fic banner, please go check vivi out if u have taste okok part 2: distance learning drabbles; 01

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“Tomorrow morning, same time at 9AM. Remember to have your reports alphabetized and itemized,” your supervisor says, but the only thing you can focus on is the abnormal amount of bonsai plants in his living room. 

“Alright now it’s time for the union to talk COVID protocol,” you frown when Mr. Kim moves ownership of the Zoom call to your union rep, who pulls up a Powerpoint. You feel your eyes burn at the sight: an itinerary containing over thirty-eight slides. 

“For fuck’s sake—” 

You so desperately want to turn off the camera and flop in your bed. Since working remotely you haven’t been operating in the most ideal of workspaces. You live in a one-room apartment with a communal kitchen downstairs, so you really only have four square meters to stretch your limbs around between breaks. You’ve pushed your bed aside and shoved an office chair between the bed and the wall, leaving you to squirm between ten centimeters of space. You have no desk because well, the little rectangle space is prioritized for your portable stove and meals. 

The meeting drones on for another hour, until your brain melts to liquid and your limbs feel like Jell-O. Furthering your anxiety as they talk about protocol that never ends up happening, delays that continue to pile up, and the anger that’s been bubbling between the higher ups and little goldfish employees like you. 

When you finally shut off the camera and fling your laptop under the bed, you still feel unsettled. Probably because your work life and home life have merged together, and it’s hard for you to separate work and pleasure. 

Speaking of pleasure. 

Your hand blindly reaches under your bed, looking for the pretty pink oval you purchased last week. Cleaned and ready to use, the little remote-controlled vibrator sits plainly in your palm. 

Needless to stay you’ve been in a bit of a dry spot these past few months. With a fear to go out and meet someone new, you’ve been left with yourself and your fantasies. That’s fine, but lately your old vibrator isn’t cutting it. It’s unfortunate, you think you’re messing up your libido by buying toy after toy, but you’re horny and lonely. 

Linking your phone’s app to the remote, you ignore the messages that have been beeping your feed since early morning. 

[11:21] Jeon: let’s do lunch! 

[11:23] Jeon: hehe i feel like i belong in mean girls. Do lunch💁🏻‍♀️💁🏻‍♀️💁🏻‍♀️

[2:20] Jeon: u loozer. Come eat dinner with us upstairs @6

[2:24] Jeon: dropping off a snack for u 

Another element of feeling horny and lonely? Jeon Jungkook. 

You two shouldn’t have even met each other. You live off crumbs on the first floor while he and his roommates are livin’ it up on top in the penthouse. One day a few months ago he crashed into you while working out, having run up and down the whole flight of stairs at least three times before deciding to collapse on you between the second and first floor. 

Despite the black mask that hugged his sharp jawline, you had felt nothing but attractiveness ooze off of him. Under his hoodie was nothing but curved muscle. He smelled so soft and sweet despite the fact that he was damp with sweat. 

The rest is history. After that day he seemed to show up everywhere, jogging more prominently on your floor and doing exercises at your level’s gym. He says he likes you, likes your company. He’s wormed his way intermittently, whether he’s seeing you struggle with an armful of groceries or when he hears you screaming over an Among Us match (according to Jungkook, the walls are thinner on the bottom floors.) 

The idea of Jungkook doting on you doubly frustrates you. He seemingly appears as the perfect man, unaffected by the stresses of the world. Jungkook’s job lets him work from home anyway, and he definitely had enough room in the penthouse for his own office. He works out, probably has a girlfriend and enough friends for you to gradually phase out of this weird neighbor interest. 

So you ignore his seemingly harmless messages, focusing on getting the settings right on the vibrator. You feel your pussy jolt a little in excitement, watching the silver and pearl pink oval shake in your grasp. You smile a bit to yourself, immediately finding your iPad for your favorite videos and some pillows to support your back. 

Half an hour later however, that excitement soon goes sour. 

“Fuck,” you bite your lip, frustrated tears streaming down your face, “fuck fuck fuck!” 

This isn’t a set of explicatives out of pleasure, unfortunately. 

No matter what you do, you won’t cum. You can’t cum. Barely wet, hardly a drop glossing your folds. You don’t even want to bother getting out the lube at this point because you are so disappointed. 

The vibrator is going at the highest setting, one that your neighbors can probably hear if they were home at this time of the day. You cease to care at this point, because the job is undone because you haven’t come undone. 

You don’t know why this is happening. Maybe it’s because you’ve had the liberty to touch yourself in complete silence, now that your neighbors have been confined to their homes indefinitely. Maybe it’s because it’s been so long since you’ve relied only on your touch, that your body is tired of the monotony and needs more.

You bang the heels of your feet against your flimsy mattress, feeling whiny and utterly dissatisfied. Pulling the vibrator from your clit, you glare at the infuriating toy.

“You’re supposed to be helping me out of my dry spell,” you chastise, throwing the toy across the bed, sliding onto the carpet, “I get you’re not Jeon’s dick, but you gotta help a sister out.” 

With a sigh, you fall into a bout of exhaustion. Not from a round of orgasms, but from the week’s stress and no way to let it out. 

You wake up bleary and disoriented, practically melding through the mattress. The sky is pink and blue, washed in a sea of corals and purples. It comes from the incessant banging. 

“Stop it,” you whine more to yourself than whoever dares to disturb your sleep, pulling up your panties and a pair of navy dolphin-trim shorts. “Whoever you are I’m comin’ so stop!” 

Swinging the door open in two strides you’re met with a chipper Jeon Jungkook; looking all cute and sweet in his big hoodie and smelling like a rosebud. 

“It’s 6:30,” he narrows his eyes playfully at you, “dinner’s in the oven.” 

“You left your oven on,” you deadpan, turning around to grimace at the mess that’s your one-room apartment. 

“Yes, so we have exactly ten minutes before my kitchen explodes in flames,” Jungkook chirps, closing the door behind you. 

You don’t even bother to tell him to excuse the mess, ignore the pile of bras hanging on your vanity and the unpacked groceries that sit at the edge of your mini-fridge. It’s far too late to salvage your dignity and Jungkook’s too damn polite to call you out on your state of slob. Although, as you pull out a bottle of wine tucked in the back of your fridge you blurt, “I can hear your fingers tingling to clean up my mess.” 

When you turn around Jungkook stuffs his hands in the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie, supposedly to stop himself from cleaning up. With a pout he says, “Can’t help it, Jimin says I’m currently manifesting a strong display of Virgo energy this month. Whatever that means.” 

Jabbing your feet in a pair of slides you follow Jungkook out the door. The hallways are quiet and barren, yet the silence isn’t suffocating as you two pile into the elevator. Jungkook opens the keypad underneath the regular boring buttons, revealing a sleek little set of light-up buttons that have the code to the penthouse. Faaaannnnccy. 

“Tryna look?” he jokes, cupping his hands to block your vision. 

You scoff, “I’m sure it’s something easy like 0000.” 

“You’re wrong. It’s 1234,” he replies cheekily. 

The door dings open and you’re met with yet another door. Jungkook presses his thumb to the biometric scanner, and a pleasant ringer tings in response. 

The penthouse smells like a mix of tonight’s dinner, savory, combined with a cinnamon apple candle. Jungkook is a fan of scented candles, ever since he got a whiff of your lavender vanilla burner. 

“Where’s Taehyung?” you ask, more out of your own anxiousness than anything. Taehyung’s  your buffer, the hyper roommate being someone to distract you from Jungkook’s incessant aura. 

“Dunno,” he shrugs, flicking on the oven light to peer inside. You see the telltale signs of a mean lasagna, the shredded cheese on top crisping to a delicious-looking golden brown, “anyway, you’re my friend first.” 

As grotesque as it sounds, Jungkook always finds his way to worm his way under your skin and find homage there. “Possessive much?” you quirk a brow, folding your arms over your chest even though there’s nothing to hide. 

“What can I say,” Jungkook’s legs stretch out as he squats down to your level, “I really fell for you.” 

“Gross,” you try to convince yourself, ignoring the thudding in your chest, “you technically fell on me, weirdo.” 

Dinner is a quick affair. He cuts slices of lasagna and brings it to the couch, where you’re pouring glasses of wine in crystal glasses. They’re so clean and shiny you can see your reflection in the gold liquid. You grimace at the bottle, normally this would be poured in a mug or your sippy cup, tonight your liquid’s getting a high-end pour. 

You two pull up an old anime to fill up the room, but most of it is spent in playful banter. Jungkook prattles on about his day, showing you all the cool updates he’s achieved during work. An app developer. A very on-brand, lucrative job for him. You love your job but it isn’t nearly as exciting as Jungkook’s, so you just let yourself be supportive and ask questions when needed. 

When the subject of you comes up, you shake your head and stuff your face with another cut of al dente pasta.

“Not interestin’ Jeon,” you mumble, groaning at how delicious his cooking is. What can’t he do? “Is this oregano? Is the secret ingredient toasted oregano—” 

“You’re deflecting.” 

Your shoulders slump, “I’m not very interesting, I tell you everything I do during the week and nothing has changed since March.” 

“Oh, not everything,” Jungkook mutters under his breath. You furrow your brows as his hands stuff themselves in his hoodie pocket. Is he upset you won’t tell him about your work stress? “And you’re very interesting, I’ll have you know.” 

“Yeah?” a small smile tugs on your lips. You sink further into his cottonball of a couch, feeling utterly soft and meldable at his words.

“Very,” Jungkook gets up from the couch, looking down at you, “want something sweet?” 

The prospect of dessert has you excited. Jungkook really is the perfect man, so kind and knows exactly when you’re craving something for your sweet tooth. You move to get up, only for you to sink further between the two large cushions of the loveseat. “Help me, ’m stuck,” you pout.

Jungkook giggles, and holds out his palm, “Hand,” he says simply.

You immediately reach for his larger palm, and you gasp when you feel something cold and soft touch your palm. As if you’ve been burned, you tug your hand back. But Jungkook’s hand is massive, the large ink-painted palm curling around your own, and it’s almost painful the way he clutches your hand so fiercely. 

When he’s sure you’re not going to drop it, he releases your hand. 

Nestled in your palm, is the new vibrator you left on the carpet this afternoon.

“Jeon,” you laugh tonelessly, hating the way Jungkook’s neutral expression mocks you, “you found my USB? Thanks, I know—” 

“Know that you’re having a hard time coming?” Carefully extracting your plate from your lap, he places it on the coffee table before Jungkook cages you between the couch. You shrink further into the plush seat, “I tried being a good neighbor, but you didn’t answer my texts. I heard you when I tried dropping off some snacks before dinner. Didn’t know you were into toys.” 

“Oh, c’mon Jeon. It’s 2020 and we’re confined,” well, in this scenario you’re confined, “everyone has a sex toy.” 

“Hm, I don’t have one,” Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek, pretending to be deep in thought, “so, can you be my toy?” 

Fuck. 

It’s then that you feel the tell-tale signs of arousal. Your eyes widen, innocently surprised at the fact that Jeon Jungkook contained so much power in so few words. You snap your legs shut immediately, sealing any possibility of you dripping down your panties. 

“I heard how disappointed you were, doll,” his arms have no problems as he bends down so he’s eye-level with your crotch, “it was pathetic, really. You couldn’t even cum on your own? You need someone to help you?” 

“N-no,” you cross your arms defensively, frowning, “you–you’re being mean, Jeon.”

“And what, you’re gonna cry about it?” Jungkook smirks, now sitting on his knees. His hands run over the velvety fabric of the couch, making a beeline for your thighs. Gooseflesh rises to the surface, and he immediately presses down to iron out the little bumps that travel across your skin, “I do wanna make you cry, but not because you can’t cum. You’ll cry because of how good I’m gonna make you feel.” 

You gape, clutching the vibrator in your hand. 

A little bit of your sweet, cute Jungkook resurfaces, softening when he notices your lack of response, “If you’ll let me, of course.” 

You finally drag the words from your throat, “I-it’s been a long time since I’ve… been with someone.” 

He tilts his head, “Same here. I just figured we could break that spell together.” 

What are you going to say? No? A dishonor to your sexuality, that would be. Jungkook’s offering himself up on a silver platter, and even though you do wish it was a little more you’ll take the sex. 

You nod, forgetting to speak again. Jungkook chuckles. 

“I want to hear you say it, doll.” 

Doll. Like you’re his little fucktoy, malleable and bendable to all his whims. Fuck, why is that so hot to you? “Yes, I want to have sex with you,” you declare, your voice sounding more breathy than confident, “a-and, you can be mean. If you want.” 

His thumbs press little light indents in your skin, over and over as if fascinated by the way your skin is so soft and gummy in his grip. “Okay,” Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to pull out his phone, jabbing a few things that you don’t see, “let’s do a little test drive, then.” 

In seconds, the little egg vibrates in your touch. He puts it on the lowest setting, a soft buzz echoing in the large living room, then at a bruising pace that forces you to curl your fingers around it otherwise it’d fall. Your eyes flicker over to Jungkook’s, who’s focusing entirely on the way the pink and silver egg moves, dilated in interest. 

“Fuck, and you thought this thing was broken?” he asks, taking it out of your palm and turning off the app. 

“Maybe I’m the broken one,” you admit softly, wringing your shirt. 

Silence seeps. Jungkook looks at you, brows furrowed as if he’s annoyed. “Don’t ever say that,” when you don’t respond, he grabs your chin, and you gasp when he forces you to look at him, “you’re not broken, doll. Everyone’s body is different, and we’re going to discover yours together. Got it?” 

“Y-yes,” you reply immediately, mesmerized by his seriousness. 

“Good,” he slaps the vibrator back in your palm, “and in case you’re wondering, this goes inside.” 

“I know how it works,” you scowl, “but won’t you show me, just in case?” 

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Jungkook gets up for good, piling the dishes in his arms and walking to the sink. You immediately miss his warmth, “but I think patience is a virtue. I have a developer meeting with some clients in America a little bit, actually. So just wait for my call, yeah?” 

You frown, looking down at the vibrator in your hands. How much longer would you have to wait? 

It happens at exactly three in the afternoon the next day, at the start of your staff meeting. You’re so tired of the same information being thrown back and forth, coupled with Brian and Jae having to fight over some mundane subject in the itinerary that no one cares about. For goodness sake, it’s Friday! What else would you possibly need to be meeting about? 

You’re wearing a button-down dress shirt on top, no pants on the bottom. Your bare feet slap against the hardwood floor, antsy. It’s been a long day at work and your back hurts, you’re half tempted to dip out of this meeting and hope no one notices. 

Your phone buzzes on your bed, and you blanch. 

[3:01] Jeon: thanks for waiting, doll. It’s time 

[3:01] Jeon: put it in

Shamelessly, your vibrator sits next to your phone, cleaned and ready to go. 

[3:02] Jeon: need help? Answer my call

Making sure that your Zoom call is muted, you quickly answer the incoming phone call. Jungkook and you say nothing at first, waiting. The phone just ticks with the amount of time passing, one minute, two minutes, and so on. 

Mr. Kim drones unknowingly, “So when we do return to live instruction, expect a strict process when returning. PPE must be enforced so our response team will—” 

“How wet were you last night when you went home?” Jungkook asks languidly, speaking over your boss’ voice. 

Your eyes widen, flickering back and forth between the phone and the camera displaying Mr. Kim’s boring speech. 

“Doll, are you hard of hearing?” 

“N-no,” your lips barely move, eyes glued to the camera and plastering an expressionless face, “I heard you.” 

“Then give me an answer,” he says patiently, “how wet were you?” 

“Very wet.”

“Little more detail.” 

“Soaking wet,” you flush, thankful that your work laptop can only stream in 360p. “I haven’t gotten that wet in such—such a long time. My pussy was practically clinging to my underwear when I washed up that night.” 

A heady, heavy groan resonates through your phone. You feel that voice straight into your panties, jolting the nerves awake. 

“Fuck, you have a way with words, don’t you?” Jungkook chuckles breathlessly, “c’mon, touch yourself for me. Swirl your fingers around your clit, slowly.” 

It takes a second for you to position yourself, spreading your legs in a way that your coworkers don’t question why you’re moving so much. A quick scan over all the tired faces says that you’re okay. Shyly, you press your fingers against your clit, doing as he says. 

“Oh,” you say more to yourself than him, feeling the wetness already coating your fingers. This is earlier than usual. 

“What?” 

“I’m already wet,” you say, amazed, “I haven’t gotten wet this quickly in a long time.” 

He scoffs, “If you’re so wet now, shove it in.” 

You frown. You did tell him to be mean. But the idea of him telling you what to do, giving you all the porn-worthy experiences to accomplish has you relenting. Discreetly grabbing the egg from the bed, you bring it down to your panties. Swirling the cold metal around your clit, you coat it in your juices. 

It’s still a little too early to be putting anything in, but you can take it. Slowly relaxing, you slip the little egg in your pussy, wiggling it a little to make sure it’s secure. It’s a strange sort of pressure, and it pokes against your clit from the inside, but you enjoy the stretch. 

“It’s in,” you reply softly. 

“Good.” 

You wait. You listen to Jae make yet another speech about the importance of masks and gloves, and then Brian has to interject and say that gloves are literally useless because they spread germs around no matter what. Even though everyone else is muted, you can practically feel the misery seeping through the screen. For a second you almost forget about Jungkook on the line. Why isn’t Mr. Kim stopping them? This is the thin line stopping you from the weekend, unbelievable! 

“Eep!” you jolt in your cheap seat, the egg buzzing in your pussy. Your hands fly out, gripping the edges of your computer. 

It hits different when Jungkook is in control. Knowing that with a flick of his thumb he can have you careening, whining for more or less depending on how hard he wants you go. Your folds hug the egg, nestling it a fleshy grip as it brushes against your clit the more you squirm. 

“You look so pretty, trying so hard to hold in your moans,” Jungkook says wondrously from the other line. 

“W-what?” you frown, “you can see me?” 

And immediately, you go to your trackpad to fish between the hundred-and-one employees also in this call. At the very end, you see a very simple name with no mic or camera: Jeon JK. He’s here. 

“Worked in IT, doll. Know a thing or two,” he says, “now, tell me. What are you thinking about right now?” 

“Y-you,” you mumble shyly. 

“So,” Mr. Kim finally ends that part of the meeting, thank goodness, “what’s everyone’s plans this weekend? I’m going apple picking with a couple of my friends from college. Hoseok is a bright bean who loves to take long walks—”

What the hell. You squirm uncomfortably in your seat, hyperaware that Jungkook’s watching your every move. You make glossy, stubborn eyes at the camera, trying not to move when he jacks up the vibrator to a higher setting. 

Jae’s of course the next employee to unmute his microphone, “Well, me and the bae are going house hunting…” 

“Fuck!” you cry, moving the computer to the left so you can pretend you’re picking up something. But in fact you're leaning your head against your mattress, frustrated. “I don’t fucking care about your weekend plans, Jae! Shut the fuck up! You wanna know my weekend plans?” Jungkook’s laughing at you from the other line, but it only spurs you on, “my plans are fucking my super hot neighbor! He’s a hundred times more interesting than you and he’s going to make me come a hundred times this weekend—oh fuck!” 

Your fingers latch onto your panties, drawing random squiggles and letters between the fabric. You’re damp, soaked to the core. You need some sort of friction, a reprieve from this hellish week.

“You flatter me, doll,” Jungkook is definitely grinning through the phone, you can practically hear his shit-eating grin, “I think you deserve a reward. As soon as you put the camera back on your pretty face.” 

Quickly, you sit up to put the camera on you again. Once again, the employees are in a daze, listening to whatever the next person gabs about their weekend. Even though you can’t really see it, you’re sure Jungkook has a 1080p camera upstairs that shows off your blotchy face. You moan a little bit, lips closed as the egg buzzes against your pussy lips. 

“You’re so cute, doll,” Jungkook praises, “you look so professional, holding it in. What could I do to make you unravel? Hm, what if you imagined the taste of my cock on your lips? Fuck, I’d love to slap your cute little face with my cock, baby doll–”

“y/n?” Mr. Kim calls your name, and you freeze, “what about you? Any plans this weekend?” 

Jungkook doesn’t sound angry that your boss has inadvertently cut him off. “Answer him, doll. Be a good little employee.” 

Like a zombie, you move towards the unmute button. “I–I uh,” you shake your head, trying to formulate a coherent response, “I’m going on a date this weekend.” 

Jungkook jacks up the vibrator to high, and your legs are shaking. 

“Awh, a date!” Mr. Park unmutes himself, practically shoving the camera in his face, “how much do you like the lucky lad or lady?” 

“I like him uh—ah—” you pretend to think, covering a hand over your mouth to hide the fact that you feel your orgasm fast approaching, “I like him a lot!” you finally blurt, “I’m, uh, really excited to see him.” 

“Best of luck to you,” Mr. Kim says brightly, “so Jimin, any news on those investors you had dinner with this weekend? I heard a lot of positive things…”

You immediately mute your mic, and pretend to lag as you fumble around with the camera. Shoving the laptop to the side once more you groan into your sheets, “Fuck—fuck yes—” you moan, shaking your head as you dip your fingers into your panties. The vibrator still continues at its bruising pace, spurring you to a high you haven’t peaked to in months.

“Good job,” Jungkook says simply, “could barely notice that you have a little helper fiddling around your dripping pussy.”

“J-Jeon,” you cry, “I’m, ’m gonna cum.” 

“Yeah?” Jungkook eggs you on, “you’re gonna cum around that cute little vibrator? Gonna soak it in your juices?” 

“W-wish it was your cock I was soaking,” you whisper truthfully, letting your orgasm take you at the thought. Your folds flutter around the vibrator, bringing you to a level of sensitivity you’ve only dreamt of, “Ah, yes, Jeon. It feels s-so good!” 

“Yes baby,” Jungkook groans through the line, “feels good, huh?” 

Mr. Kim interrupts for the last time, “And with that, I think our meeting is adjourned. Have a wonderful weekend! Stay safe and—” 

You slam the laptop shut, grabbing your phone and keys. “I’m going up,” you mutter impatiently, already jabbing your feet in a pair of slippers and locking the door to your apartment behind you. 

“I’m waiting,” he replies, eagerness trimming his voice. 

“Password?” you ask quickly, jabbing the elevator door shut once you step inside. Thank goodness you’re alone, you think as you pull your dress shirt further down your ass. 

“Did you forget already?” he teases, “I told you, it’s 1234.” 

Thankfully, the doors zip you up straight to the penthouse. The connection is always a little spotty in elevators, and you sigh longingly when you feel the buzz jolt and leave it’s momentum, quickly losing its rhythm between your dripping folds. Once you get to the top and the elevator doors open the second door immediately swings open, revealing a soft but aroused-looking Jungkook. He looks fresh from the shower, absolutely radiant and delicious looking. 

You don’t hesitate to run up to him, and Jungkook immediately cups his face in your hands, pressing his lips to yours. 

You’re practically on your tippy-toes, and you squeak against his lips when he hooks his arms around your shoulders, immediately lifting you up. You wrap your legs around his trim waist, not wanting to stop kissing him. He’s like the sweetest ambrosia, a taste you can’t get enough of. 

The connection to your vibrator has resumed, and you can’t help but grind helplessly under Jungkook’s clothed abs as he carries the both of you to his bedroom.

“N-need you to fuck me,” you bury your head in the crook of his neck, pressing quick kisses to his jawline, “I want you s-so badly.” 

“Hello to you too,” he husks, shutting the bedroom door with his foot. 

Jungkook drops you unceremoniously, and your limbs splay out on the fresh bedsheets of his feather-soft mattress.

“You look gorgeous like this, doll.” he sighs longingly, a hand going under your buttondown to press against your soaked panties. His hand lingers on the way your pussy moves in tandem with the vibrator. 

“J-Jeon please I can’t take it—” 

“Stop calling me that,” he snaps, hands leaving your skin.

You whine at the loss of contact, “Jeon, no. Jungkook. Kook, my Kook. Please, I need you.” 

That gets him going. His pretty chocolate brown eyes zero in on you, and he immediately shucks off his shirt and sweatpants, “How much do you need me?” he asks, pulling out his phone and pressing some buttons, “how much do you need your Kook?” 

The vibrator stops. You cry out in frustration, unsure if it’s because it’s off or because Jungkook’s taking too damn long. “I need you so much, Kook,” you warble with a pout, moving to undo the top buttons of your dress shirt to reveal your cleavage, “honey, you can have me all you want later today. I want you to slap my face with your dick, edge me until I cry, anything. I’m all yours, I’m your little doll. But please for now, I need to feel you inside me.” 

“Say no more,” his lips latch onto your neck, and you sigh at the skin-to-skin contact. His hand fiddles under your shirt, clutching a breast and slapping it so hard it bounces back and forth, “fuck, you’re so pretty.” 

His hand moves to your plain cotton panties, immediately shucking them off, “doll, you really are dripping,” he’s impressed, surprised when he has to untack the fabric from your glossy legs. He hangs the panties on his wooden headboard, a little ornament for him to jack off to later. 

His fingers brush over your folds, wasting no time to slip the vibrator out. He holds it between your faces, forcing you to stare at the pearly substance that coats the entirety of the egg. “Mm, tasty tasty,” he cooes, pink tongue darting out to lick a long strip across the oval. 

You tug him closer, pressing his lips to yours. He tastes a mixture of his own saliva and your arousal, and you grind helplessly against him. You feel how big his cock is, rock-hard and trying very diligently not to bust. He must have a crazy amount of control, and it drives you nuts. 

“Kook,” you frown, bumping your crotch with his.

“Impatient, good thing I am too,” he shucks off his boxers while you unbutton the rest of your shirt, “knees and hands, doll.” 

You don’t care how or what way he’ll take you. Fuck, he could bend you into an Auntie Anne’s pretzel and you’d comply. 

Arching your back so your ass is in the air, you wiggle around, hoping he’ll take the bait. That’s when you sigh, feeling the tip of his dick brush against your wetness.

“Soaking my cock already, baby,” he says, “you’re so good to me.” 

And finally, finally, he slips in. You don’t even care that it stretches you a little too far and too long, it’s been too damn long since you’ve had decent dick and Jungkooks far more than decent. 

He goes at a quick pace, finally showing how impatient he’s been all this time. Your moans and groans fill the room, a symphony of pleasure and pain as he stretches your walls to the brim. You hold a pillow to your chest, feeling woozy at the way his fat cock stretches you out. 

“F-fuck yeah,” the pace is hard, you practically feel it in your belly, and you love it. “You feel so fucking tight, baby,” he’s all up in your ear, kissing the lobe briefly, “I love the way you suck my cock back in.” 

“Kook,” you press your ass back, “harder, please. I’m your little doll, right? Y-you can fuck me however you want, as hard as you want! Please, ah—! Use me!” 

You cry out when he slips from your folds, immediately flipping you on your back. He wastes no time to wet his dick, lifting one leg over his shoulder to have you deeper. This position is far more intimate, and your noses are practically touching as he thrusts into you. 

You can’t believe you’re in bed with Jeon Jungkook. This must be a dream, a really great, really long wet dream. You crumble in his grip, and you lift a shaky hand to run through his thick black strands. 

“Why’d you make me wait so long?” you cry, staring right into his glittering eyes, “why couldn’t you come for me after your call last night?” 

“Why’d I make you wait?” he grits, crushing the flesh between your hip bones so he can have more leverage to pound into you, “why did you make me wait? Since March, I’ve wanted you. I told you I liked you, told you I fell for you.” 

“T-thought it was a joke,” you warble pathetically, breasts bouncing at his relentless rhythm.

“You think th-this is a joke?” for further emphasis, he glides slower, making you feel just how large and thick he is against your folds, “I want you, doll. Y-yeah, fu-fuck. Want to feed you every day, feed you lasagna, feed you with my cum, make you happy.” 

“I—I want that too, Kook,” you’re a pile of pink mush, and you feel your eyes prick from the overwhelming emotions that have washed over both of you. “Sh-shit, Kook. I think, I think I’m gon’ cum again.” 

“Good, you first,” his hand plays figure 8s with your precious pearl, seeping with arousal and coating his cock in delicious lubrication. 

It doesn’t take long for you to cum. You’re holding him as tight as you can, nails digging into his shoulders as you clench around his cock. Jungkook cums shortly after, and you keen at the sensitivity when his hot cum coats your walls. “Baby doll,” he exhales, thrusting lazily. The both of you feel your combined arousal drip between the two of you, onto your skin and onto his sheets, “y-you’re amazing.” 

His softened cock slips out of you, and his hands immediately reach over to swirl around the heady cream over your engorged pussy. You moan when he brings his fingers to your lips, “Open, doll.” 

It tastes salty yet sweet, and you suckle around his finger with a cute little pop. Jungkook grins brightly, feeling like he won the lottery. 

“Are my walls that thin?” you pout, pressing closer to him when he pulls the blankets to your chest. 

“Very,” Jungkook nods with a chuckle, tucking the two of you in, “now get some rest, doll. You presented a lot of offers to me earlier, and I intend to go through with them.” 

You smile into his chest, melty and feeling utterly sated. 

[saijspellhart]

Little oneshot about Atem meeting Sphinx Yugi

Part of my Sphinx AU. Please enjoy.

Atem clutched his cloak around him, trying to settle back against the date palms again, only to sit up with a start at the rustle of leaves. The once vibrant and friendly oasis he’d happened upon in the day, had turned into an absolute nightmare as soon as the sun set.

He hadn’t managed to get a fire going, he couldn’t find anything to eat, and although the water in the massive pond looked clean and tasted good, he was convinced he’d be sick by morning.

The night was so dark, even with all the stars, he could barely make out his surroundings in the dense thickets of trees and brush surrounding the pond. He could swear something was out there. Could feel it staring at him, hunting him.

He snapped his head to the left at the sound of disturbed undergrowth, and swore he caught a glimpse of yellow eyes. Like the glowing pupils of some large animal. They disappeared almost immediately.

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen them. Could be a fox, or a crocodile, perhaps a leopard, or even a hyena. Although he really doubted it was a hyena. Too quiet for that noisy pack animal. Never the less, he was convinced he was being stalked by some silent predator.

Hours were passing, and he continued his restless watch.

The night wore on leaving him more and more exhausted, and the chill set in harder. He felt cold in his bones without a fire or proper insulation from the frigid desert night.

He would die of exposure before he was ever rescued by his priests.

Atem saw the flash of yellow eyes again in his peripheral and scowled at them sleepily.

Or I’ll simply get eaten alive. What an end for a mighty Pharaoh. He should have simply died earlier in the day during the skirmish with the brigands. At least then it would have been in the service of his people, and not alone, lost in the desert, and at the jaws of local wildlife.

Another hour passed, and he couldn’t hold his head up anymore to stay alert. He was so cold.

So tired.

His eyelids drooped. And each blink was a little longer, his mind a little hazier.

He searched for the eyes in the dark, but saw nothing. He heard nothing. He couldn’t hold his eyes open any longer and he drifted out of consciousness.

0000

Atem’s world was a lot brighter when his brain clicked back into consciousness the next morning.

And warmer.

So much warmer. He’d been so cold the night before and now he was wrapped in a blanket of warmth and fluffy comfort.

It felt like his head was pillowed against a cloud. A slightly dusty, musky scented cloud with an edge of sweetness, almost like grass. It was pleasant.

In fact everything was pleasant. Even the comforting weight settled over him. Atem didn’t want to move. Didn’t even want to wake up. Instead, he inhaled the pleasant scent again and tried to drift back to sleep.

His hand reached up to sink fingers into soft fur and snuggled deeper into his pillow.

Which gasped, and shifted beneath him.

Atem’s eyes shot open, getting an eyeful of white and tawny red-gold fur. Something like a tail swished just over the swell of golden fur he’d taken a handful of. He was up in an instant, flailing against feathers, and violently slapping a large wing off of himself as he stumbled to get away.

“Ouch!” a stranger’s voice yelped.

He ended up crawling backwards through sand and grasses. Drawing his knife—his khopesh having gotten lost when his horse threw him in the strange and sudden sand storm—he pointed the blade, putting as much distance as he could between himself and the strange creature he’d been cuddled up to only moments before.

“What in Ra’s name are you?” Atem demanded.

The creature blinked large and bewitching purple eyes at him. “What does it look like?” It asked, sounding almost offended. It shook out one of its large black-tipped white feathered wings, as if shaking off pain, before gingerly folding the appendage against its back. “In fact I’m one of the god’s creatures. I’m a sphinx,” it announced rising up on its very feline paws.

This gave Atem a very good look at the creature, and yes. Yes, it was a sphinx. He quickly lowered the knife so as not to disrespect it.

It was not the type of sphinx he was most accustomed to seeing depicted in scrolls and in reliefs. That being a creature with a lion’s body and the head of a human. No, this creature had the head and torso of a human, its arms changing into a feline’s paws starting at the elbow, and its torso becoming a feline’s lower half starting at the stomach.

The stomach that Atem’s head has been pillowed against, he noted. That’s what had been so soft like a cloud. He swallowed thickly.

“It’s been awhile since a human has wandered into my oasis,” the sphinx said conversationally. It took a few steps towards Atem. “What’s your name?”

He wasn’t about to give a magical creature such as this his name. Magical creatures could do dangerous things with your name. “Atem…” the name tumbled off his tongue unbidden. Fuck. He suspected some magic must be at play, but Ra would have to smite him before he would tell this creature he was a Pharaoh. Absolutely no good would come of this creature having that knowledge.

“Atem~” the sphinx tested the name on its tongue, and smiled brightly at him. “Hi Atem! My name is Yugi,” as it introduced itself it made a tight circle giving Atem a look at its entire body from nose to the end of its stumpy tail.

It was just like a cat to give someone an eyeful of its ass. If the lack of breasts hadn’t clued him in, Atem could safely conclude that the very effeminate looking creature was indeed a male.

When Yugi turned to face him again he couldn’t quite meet the Sphinx’s eye anymore and sort of looked off to the side instead.

It was actually startling how much the Sphinx’s hair resembled Atem’s. Should he be flattered? Or maybe the sphinx was flattered. It was probably far older than him. Their hair was strikingly similar, both having flowing blonde bangs and unruly black spikes tinged with color at the tips. Although Atem’s hair ended in red, while Yugi’s seemed to be a gradient of purples and reds. That was where the similarities between them seemed to end though. Yugi had large eyes and a small nose, with a slight build and fair skin. Where as Atem had a large nose, thick brows over slanted eyes, with the build of a fighter and brown skin.

“I’m sorry for scaring you when you woke up,” Yugi dipped his head and looked genuinely apologetic.

“What was…that anyway?” Atem jerked his head at the Sphinx and reached a hand down to pluck at some grass, tearing the blades between his fingers.

“I was keeping you warm,” Yugi explained. Almost comically large cat ears flicked on either side of his head, disturbing locks of hair as they did. Atem could make out black tufts of fur on the ends of the ears that reminded him very much of a caracal. Yugi kept his distance but sat back on his haunches. His wings adjusted on his back, fluttering a bit before folding back into place. “You were so cold, shivering in your sleep, and well… the elements don’t bother me.” he shrugged. “So I curled up beside you, and covered you with my wing.”

Atem narrowed his eyes at the creature. Were sphinxes usually so kind? He couldn’t recall many stories about sphinxes but the stories he did recall they were always dangerous and tricksy. “I suppose I owe you a debt now, don’t I?” He growled out, tossing his handful of shredded grass on the sand before him.

Yugi blinked at him. “No? Oh well maybe…” he tilted his head and it looked like the wheels had begun to turn in his mind. “Why?” he asked slowly.

“Because you probably saved my life. Kept me from succumbing to exposure or something.” Atem explained impatiently. He didn’t want to be in debt to a magical creature, but he was also a Pharaoh and it could spell disaster to leave debts unpaid. Should the sphinx ever find out he was a pharaoh and decide to collect on the debt it might ask for something outrageous. Like a child, or a golden statue in its likeness, or perhaps to stay in his palace to live like a king. “Creatures like you always want payment for a life saved.”

Yugi seemed to consider this, all the while studying Atem curiously. “I suppose that’s true,” he purred. “How about we play a game? Win, and consider the debt repaid. Your life will be your own. But should you lose, then your life is mine.” This time when the little Sphinx grinned at him it was far more predatory. If he wasn’t so adorable Atem might have felt more intimidated.

A game? A smug sense of triumph curled in Atem’s stomach. A game wasn’t so bad. He was excellent at games. “What kind of game?” Atem hedged warily. Skills aside, making a deal with any magical creature was extremely dangerous, but especially with a sphinx.

Yugi laid down on the ground and crossed his front paws. “Oh, nothing complicated. Just a simple game of riddles~”

Atem adjusted until he was sitting cross-legged facing the Sphinx. He placed his hands on his knees and did his best to school his expression with confidence. “Alright then. I’ll play your game.”

“Great!” Yugi chirped happily, and his cat butt wiggled with excitement. “I will start.”

Atem bit his cheek and silently reminded himself that this cuteness was probably a facade. He would focus…and he would win.

[slimesidian]

What are the Hermitcraft people’s initial thoughts on Wilbur and Tommy?

Well Grian and Scar find the two of them unconscious so their initial thoughts are to get them somewhere safe.

When Tommy wakes up first he's still kind of exhausted and doesn't understand what's happening. At the time, Stress had been wrapping up some of his injuries and he thought she was Niki, and then he passed out again.

When he wakes up again, Scar and Iskall are the ones watching over him and Wil, and the first conversation has them learn that Wilbur is Tommy's brother, not his dad. So they're already a bit concerned because this child showed up with his brother, no proper adult supervision(Wil is barely an adult in this).

Tommy off handedly mentions that his brother founded a country and, Scar and Iskall don't want to think this is serious. They want to think that the kid just has an active imagination. But considering that these two showed up covered in injuries and Tommy could've easily died had Grian and Scar not found them? Yeah they realize Tommy probably isn't kidding.

So the first impression is that this kid hasn't been in the best situation, and from what they know, the only person who cared enough about him to try and protect him is Wilbur.

When Wilbur wakes up, the first thing he does is ask where Tommy is, only to see Tommy entertained by something(Scar was doing magic and Tommy was just like :0000). The vibes Wil immediately gives off are untrusting and protective, which is pretty accurate because it takes him a while to trust the Hermits.

Grian comes back with X around this point, and both Tommy and Wilbur are a bit freaked because of X's helmet. (I headcanon he's got a second helmet that's not really a helmet but it's like a gas mask for the bottom of his face. It helps with breathing since Overworld air and the void in the End are very different).

So he changes into that after Tommy mentions that their admin hid his face all the time.

Now that Tommy and Wil are both awake, Grian finally gets to meet them properly(the others are outside discussing what they're gonna do). The first thing that happens is Tommy noticing that Grian has wings like Phil(this was back before Wilbur was Phil's only canon son so this plays off Tommy and Wilbur being Phil's sons.). He's like :000 and Grian can get a sense that this kid probably hasn't seen as much of the world as he could, considering that at least 4 of the Hermits have wings(even if they aren't human).

Wilbur is a different story, because he isn't really talking. He's just eyeing Grian because he doesn't want him to hurt Tommy or anything. Of course, Grian never makes an attempt to hurt Tommy. He's nothing but nice to both Wil and Tommy, they're his guests and they've clearly been through something awful, so he doesn't want to upset them.

Since it takes a while for Wil to open up and trust the Hermits, he doesn't get to properly meeting all of them right away so a lot of them don't get first impressions. And when the Hermits first see Tommy it's like watching a mini-Grian, but without the building instinct.

Hope that long ramble sufficed :D

-Mod Slime

[themissinghippogriff]

| golden | imagine

description: sirius begins to fancy a childhood friend who he thinks is dating regulus.

w.c: 1.7k+

requested

0000

October had arrived with chilly winds and golden leaves. The Marauders found themselves in the Three-Broomsticks, enjoying a butterbeer and a couple of pumpkin pasties, eagerly discussing their plans for Halloween. James went on and on about Quidditch and the party they would throw once they won against Ravenclaw while Peter and Remus listened.

Sirius hadn't been paying attention, his eyes were on a girl that had just entered the cozy place, a silver and emerald scarf wrapped around her slender neck, and a bright smile on her face. Following behind her was his brother, looking equally as happy to be in her company.

His silver eyes narrowed slightly and he bit his bottom lip, the clammy hand of envy gripping his heart and squeezing. He couldn't say he was surprised, no, this was how it was.

The minute he had been sorted into Gryffindor was when they belonged to two different worlds. Her’s was cool silk sheets, emerald pendants, fake smiles, and calculating gazes- which he wanted absolutely nothing to do with. The pureblood lifestyle was lavish and beautiful, in the most disgusting way possible.

Sirius was content with his warm woolen blankets, denim pants, wild laughter, and eyes full of mirth. He was happy, and he despised the way how he still wanted some part of that world, well someone who was a part of it.

(Y/N) had always been kind to him, even occasionally saying hello in passing and was obviously not openly prejudice, and he doubted she was even in private. She was smart, choosing not to associate with half-bloods and muggleborns to keep her parents off her back, but he knew she was on friendly terms with Lily and Remus, being a prefect herself.

Regulus laughed at something she said and they found a table in the back, causing him to snap back to reality, he hadn't even known they were dating, " Oi, you alright, mate?" asked James taking a swig of butterbeer.

Sirius nodded, looking over to the Chaser who's eyebrow was raised, " If you say so, Pads,"

Remus looked thoughtful, and Sirius had the impression the werewolf had been observing him long before now. They shared a look and Remus seemed to drop the topic, even without saying a word.

He had a crush on her when they were younger, their parents had even discussed a marriage between the two.  They hadn't really given it much thought as kids, just pleased at the prospect of being engaged to someone they could stand, he found it funny how he hadn't realized how fucked up it had actually been though. Others took that freedom for granted, just as they should.

The rest of the Hogsmeade trip had turned rather gloomy for him, which didn't go unnoticed by his friends. Sirius had seen (Y/N) and Regulus walking back to school, laughing and talking the entire way, arm in arm.

He was jealous because some part of him still liked her. It was ridiculous, they hadn't spoken in years. Maybe it was the fact he didn't consider Regulus, who had always been up their mother's arse, worthy of her.

" Hey Moony," asked Sirius later that night, " Is (Y/N)...alright?" The pureblood poked out his lips and his eyes darted around the room, looking anywhere but Remus.

The prefect frowned, " What do you mean?"

Sirius let out a sigh, " I mean is she okay, like is she a bitch?" he mumbled, flopping down onto Remus's bed.

The sandy-haired teen closed his book and gave Sirius a concerned look, " No, she's not, (Y/N) is very polite," he said, almost reassuringly, " What's the matter Sirius, are you worried about her and your brother?"

The man in question groaned loudly into a pillow and Remus let out an ' Ah', " Why did you tell me the truth Remus? I didn't want for you to tell me she was a lovely person," he mocked, " I want to hear how she's a horrible human being who kicks puppies!"

Remus rolled his eyes, " Ah, how foolish of me," he said sarcastically, " Quit lying to yourself, Sirius, you know that's not what you want to hear,"

" But it would make things so much easier," he huffed.

Remus placed his book on his bedside table, his eyes softening, " Tell me this, do you fancy her?"

Sirius looked up at his friend, " I. . . I don't know," he said honestly, " But I feel like I do, hell I've liked her since I was five- well until I got to Hogwarts,"

Remus nodded, thinking over Sirius's situation, " Are you just jealous because it's Regulus?"

Sirius placed his hands over his face once again and let out another groan, " I don't knoooooow," he whined.

-

A week passed and it seemed as if (Y/N) and Regulus were following him. They were always where he was and always together. Unfortunately, he had begun to notice how (Y/N) helped first years, no matter their house, to classes, and had even deducted house points from Slytherin for tripping a Hufflepuff. She had also smarted off to Snivellus and Rosier in the corridor and that had practically given him a boner.

Sirius Black had a bloody crush, on his little brother's girlfriend.

It enraged him, the thought of someone like her, someone as beautiful and amazing as her, being engaged to Regulus and having his bloody kids. It was enough to send him into a melancholic state, he wanted her.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N), she was intelligent, witty, beautiful, and downright sexy. Everything Sirius wanted in a girl, she had it.

It was late one night and he spotted Regulus talking to Rosier and Yaxley and scowled. The two older boys walked away, most likely toward the great hall where dinner was being held, " Unbelievable," Sirius laughed bitterly.

Regulus spun around, " May I help you Sirius?" he asked coldly, they hadn't been on the best terms since Sirius had left, and the Gryffindor couldn't help but understand why his brother was hostile towards him.

" Yes, you can, Regulus," he said smoothly, swaggering toward the younger Black, " Explain to me how someone as amazing as (Y/N) ended up with the perfect pureblood son," he quipped gesturing to Regulus.

His brother's blue eyes widened, " Excuse me?" he gasped in disbelief.

Sirius barred his teeth, " You don't bloody deserve her," he spat, jabbing him in the chest, " I don't give a damn what you do, but don't you dare pull her into your whole pureblood mania!"

Sirius pushed the younger teen aside and stormed back to his dorm.

- It was the next day after classes, and Sirius had decided to head out toward the Black Lake alone, telling his friends he'd meet up with them later. He stared out at the lake, he'd probably just sleep around, to get rid of the thoughts of her that had been plaguing him for over a week.

Maybe he'd fuck a Hufflepuff? They were usually pretty cuddly after sex, and to be honest he needed it, " Sirius?"

He turned his head so fast he almost got whiplash, " (Y/N)?" he said, his stormy gray eyes wide, " Do you need something?"

Sirius scrambled to his feet and she got closer, a worried look on her face, " Oh, I just um, wanted to talk to you about what happened with Regulus. . ."

The Gryffindor's stomach dropped and he inwardly grimaced but decided he meant what he said, " I just want to clear up Reggie and I aren't dating," she began and he felt relief flood through him but also his cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

" Oh," he said stupidly, he cleared his throat, " I thought-,"

" Well you thought wrong," she interrupted, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes, but that stern look quickly dropped, " What's up, Siri?" she said softly.

(Y/N) took a seat on the ground and patted the spot beside her. With a heavy sigh, Sirius sat down, his hand going to the back of his neck, " I don't know," he began awkwardly.

She snorted, her (Y/E/C) eyes narrowing in on him, " You're not a good liar, love," she hummed, looking out over the lake, " I know we haven't really talked in forever but. . . I am still (Y/N),"

He smiled slightly, but it quickly vanished, " Well, as you said, we haven't spoken in years but recently I've started to notice you more, and. . . I fancy you,"

Her eyes widened and her lips parted, " Y-You fancy me?" she stuttered.

He laughed, " Yeah," he looked over at her and tilted his head before smirking, " Don't act so surprised, kitten," he flirted.

She had the decency to look embarrassed but smiled before looking down at her lap, " Well. . . would you like to go to Hogsmeade?" she asked shyly.

Sirius grinned, " I'd love to," he said, his eyes not leaving her.

(Y/N) finally looked up, " But why?" she asked, frowning slightly, " You barely know me- I mean we were great friends when we were younger but that was ages ago,"

The sun had begun to set and a chilly breeze blew over the grounds, causing the lakes' water to form ruffles. A few leaves fell from the tree and swayed to the ground around the two teens. Sirius admired how to golden sunlight shone on her (Y/H/C) hair, " I know enough to fancy you, and I have a feeling you haven't changed," his gaze drifted to her chest, " in certain aspects that is,"

(Y/N) let out a laugh, " And what do you know Sirius Black?" she purred, leaning closer to him, her eyes boring into his.

He pretended to think, " Well I know you're not a prejudice git to start with, you're bloody brilliant, kind, funny, and, well, stunning," he quipped, sending her a doggish grin.

She nodded, " Always the charmer, I guess some things never change," she whispered, her eyes going to his lips.

Sirius gave her an amused look, " You're not wrong there, kitten," he muttered, leaning in until the gap between them had closed, his lips meeting hers.

-

[dr-charlie-eppes]

SHOOTING MY SHOT - A RedFinch College AU

HAPPY HOLIDAYS, @kathreestars. I was your Secret Santa as part of the @newsies-secretsanta gift exchange. 

I really hope you love your gift. It is a RedFinch College AU, as per your request. I have never written either of these things, so I hope it’s good and in character (but no promises :D!) It turned out WAY longer than expected, too :P. Oopsie daisies! 

The story begins below the cut, and I will also include a link to when I have cross-posted AO3 (sometime in January).

Please enjoy!

“Shooting My Shot” - A RedFinch College AU

0000

It was the night before Albert moved out of his childhood home and went to college. He was nervous and excited and rushing through packing his boxes. Sure, he should have done this earlier, but that didn’t matter now. Folding his last sweatshirt into a box, his mind wandered.

Tomorrow was the first day of a new chapter of his life. He was about to move to New York City to study paediatrics, starting his career as a children’s nurse. It was what he’d wanted for years; he was more than happy it was coming true. All the same, he was full of nervous energy. The next few days held so many unknowns. He was struggling to wrap his head around what was going to happen next.

A small mountain of pristine cardboard boxes, a visual representation of what mattered enough to bring with him, lay before him. Each was adorned with a great many strips of duct tape to keep them shut. He hadn’t labelled any of them since he would just unpack them the second he arrived, and he only had to open them to know what was inside. It seemed like a waste of time to go digging through his things to find a Sharpie to deface the boxes.

His phone dinged twice is quick succession. One was from Jack, letting him know he was on his way over from next door. They were travelling to college together in the morning, seeing as they had made it into the same school. The second was from Race, wishing him luck.

Race had been Albert’s best friend since kindergarten. They hadn’t spent more than about three days apart since they met, living in each other’s back pockets and practically joined at the hip for as long as anyone could remember. They had planned on going to the same school, rooming together through college. However, Race had been accepted last minute to his dream school in Brooklyn and was leaving Albert, following his passion for dance. Albert wasn’t mad, not at all; in fact, he was thrilled for his friend. Brooklyn wasn’t that far, so he was sure they’d see each other often. However, without Race, he wasn’t sure who he’d be rooming with.

Continuing to pack his boxes, Albert’s mind wandered to his roommate situation. He was, admittedly, nervous. Without Race, he would be rooming with an unknown student. By the time he’d worked that out, the deadline had passed to submit a request to be paired with someone specific; He would be added to the lottery to be paired up at random with his new roommate. He was worried about that: sharing his space with a whole stranger, stuck together in close quarters, learning to get along. What if he was paired with someone disrespectful, or homophobic, or creepy, or just plain annoying? Albert knew he could be hard to get along with, tending to mistime jokes and miss queues, rubbing people the wrong way. He could sabotage their relationship without even knowing. And even if he didn’t, that didn’t guarantee it’d be smooth sailing. They might not get along, but what could they do? They’d be stuck together for at least two semesters. Dorm rooms were sometimes roomy, but not enough to avoid each other. 

The anxiety wasn’t productive: Albert knew that. He couldn’t help it. Change was hard; he didn’t feel ready.

And Jack Kelly was not helping matters. Sure, Jack was one of his best friends - basically a brother, really - but he was an ass. He would do anything to embarrass or inconvenience Albert. That was in part due to their prank war, which had started in ninth grade when Jack replaced his gym shorts with a purple tutu and was still going strong on their first day of college. Of course, he’d never miss an opportunity to get Albert back. Nothing was sacred, no object or situation safe from Jack’s interference. All things considered, Albert should have seen this coming.

Jack offered to help him carry them to the car; there were a few, and it was already late, so Albert accepted. That was his first mistake. Jack took one look at them and started goading him. 

“You should label your boxes, Al.” He said as he picked them up.

“No.”

Then, on the landing, “How are you gonna know what’s in ‘em? It’ll be a pain to unpack.”

“I know what I packed, Jack.”

“They look naked without labels.” He whined as they walked out the front door.

“Shut up.”

They started to load them into the car, slotting them in the trunk with the lightest ones on top. 

“What kind of psychopath just puts their stuff in a box and closes it up?” Jack questioned with an edge of challenge.

Albert rolled his eyes, taking a medium sized box - possibly containing his desk lamp - and stacking it on top of the others.

“This ain’t a pass-the-parcel, Al, you’re allowed to know what’s in the box.” 

“If you don’t shut up, Jackie, so help me, you’ll be trying to run without kneecaps.”

The seemingly endless prods and pokes continued as they loaded all his unlabelled boxes into the car. Jack continued his stream of nonsense, his arguments devolving into snipes and jabs. Albert shut the trunk forcefully, fixing Jack with a look.  

“I ain’t labelling ‘em,” he stated with finality, “I know what I packed, and I’ll just unpack when I get there. If they ain’t labelled, Ma can reuse the boxes for something else later without having to scratch the writing out. It’s just easier.”

Jack gave him an unconvinced look but shrugged and let it go. Al should’ve known that was suspicious. Jack never could back down from an argument. Why would this one have been any different?

His second mistake was leaving the car unlocked. They lived in a good area; there wasn’t any reason to lock it. Besides, who would want to steal a bunch of blank boxes full of sweatshirts and towels? However, this turned out to be his downfall. The lock was the only barrier between Jack and his boxes, the last defence. Without needing to steal Al’s mom’s keys, there was nothing standing in his way. He was free to wreak havoc on his things.

His third mistake was not checking his boxes in the morning. They were in a hurry to get on the road - which was not unusual - so Al planned ahead and double checked everything when he brought the boxes down. He knew he had everything he needed, saving time in the morning. Without those last minute checks, he had no chance of catching Jack's little prank before they arrived at the campus. 

Jack hadn’t let on that anything had happened. Crammed in the back seat, surrounded by his own boxes and bags, he appeared to the world perfectly angelic. Well, as angelic as Jack Kelly could be. In truth, he was the same snarky and sarcastic man he’d always been, cracking jokes like normal. Albert had no reason to suspect a thing.

So you could imagine his shock and regret when he lifted the trunk to find his boxes, all labelled in Jack’s scratchy block letters with obscene and embarrassing labels. Roadkill - California to Texas. Grandma’s ashes - This way up! (Decorated with arrows pointing to the bottom of the box, naturally). Meditation CDs - Pokémon, Ru Paul, My Little Pony. And right on the top, the Crown Jewels of Jack Kelly’s mayhem: Dildos - Size M-XL.

It was hard to embarrass Albert - it really was. He’d spent his high school years being tormented and humiliated by Jack and had grown a tolerance for this kind of thing. Carrying a box labelled ‘dildos’ across campus was far from the worst thing he’d ever had to do. However, he did worry about what his roommate might think. If he was worried about being paired with a weirdo, others must be too. This was one of those first impressions you couldn’t take back. Joy of joys.

Undeterred, he grabbed the box and braced for impact. Making his way swiftly and unashamedly to his dorm, he ignored the stares and snickers of his peers. Look at my box of dildos, folks. Take it in. They could have guessed that this was a prank, but the surprise of it still caught most of them off guard. Albert pressed on through the crowds, rolling his eyes.

If they can’t tell that this is a joke, then they ain’t smart enough for college.

He just hoped his roommate could see the humour in it.

Speaking of his roommate, he rounded the final corner with his package. The door was slightly ajar, and he could see shadows moving under the door. Taking one final, bracing breath, Albert shuffled the box onto his forearm and pushed the door, embracing his fate.

A trick of timing, the universe’s cruel joke, caused Albert to enter the doorway at the precise moment that his new roommate fired a sticky dart from his Nerf gun. The dart shot through the air. It travelled with a great deal more speed than it should, zipping through the room. No doubt it would have continued into the hall had the doorway been empty. However, it was stopped by Albert’s moving box, adhering at the dead centre of the “O” in dildos.

All movement and sound stopped as Albert looked eyes with his new roommate.

What a first impression.

0000

Moments earlier, Finch had been alone in his dorm. The last few weeks had been a blur of emotions, and he was trying to wrap his mind around it before his new roommate arrived. His first impressions were often lacking, and he hoped that he could start out this relationship on the right foot.

His decision to come to this school had been rushed. Life had spiralled out of control, leaving bad blood between him and his folks. He got an offer to move here to Manhattan, far from them, and he jumped on it. His new life was stretched out in front of him. King of his own destiny, he surveyed his territory. And sure, a cramped college dorm room that he had to share with a stranger wasn’t much of a kingdom. But the hum of the radiator sounded like freedom, and the carpet was soft. He could learn to be happy here.

He was already unpacked, all three of his boxes piled up in the corner. In his hand, he held six plastic Nerf targets. He’d bought them at the dollar store in the ninth grade, using sharpshooting as an escape from life. Since then, his skills had grown, and he frequently moved them around to give himself more of a challenge. Mapping the room, he weighed his options. He was, of course, limited to his side of the room, which made it harder to place them in a way that would challenge him. Still, he was resourceful. And maybe his new friend - he really hoped they would get along - might let him spread them around a bit.

There was one classic place, though. In all the time he’d had these targets, one place stayed constant. He went and hung the first bullseye at the dead centre of the door on the inside. He could hit it with his eyes closed, in his sleep, or with his hands tied behind his back, but he didn’t care. The target on the door had been the most stable relationship he’d had in years, always there, always within reach.

He dumped the rest of the targets on his bed, liberating his Nerf gun from his backpack. It had been his first, and it was the favourite of his whole collection. Modelled like a sawed-off shotgun, it was easy to aim and familiar. He’d carried it with him everywhere since he’d gotten it. This little green and orange eyesore was practically an extra limb, an extension of Finch himself. He’d gotten more high-power guns since, ones that could throw darts faster than he could blink, but he loved this one the best. 

Loading in a sticky dart, he aimed for the door and pulled the trigger.

In a statistically remarkable series of events, someone pushed the door open at the precise moment he pulled the trigger. They got in the path of the dart, the new target of the shot. Thankfully, the person was carrying a box - otherwise, they would have been hit square in the chest; not exactly a great first impression. The dart, however, sailed gracefully through the room and stuck to the stranger’s box with a satisfying sticking noise. It lined up perfectly with the writing on the box, centred in the middle of one of the letters. If he’d been aiming for it, Finch would have been impressed with his shot. As it stood, he wasn’t sure how to respond.

Bullseye, I guess.

0000

Both men stood, frozen in time. All the sound had been sucked from the room, leaving only a thick silence. Neither was sure what to do to break it. Albert wanted speak - he really did. Wanted to laugh, introduce himself, settle in. However, his mouth was dry, and any words died before they could reach his throat, all systems at a standstill. He couldn’t even walk through the door for fear he would break the spell.

Why? Well, the man in front of him - his new roommate, the one holding the Nerf gun - was insanely hot.

He looked like a Renaissance painting. Classically beautiful, without being plain. A long thin face that reminded Albert distantly of a horse, smooth angles that caught the light and held it. Bright pearlescent teeth and unnaturally brown eyes. He looked as if he had stolen the light from the sun, soaking in its warmth and making it his own. All his brightness and sharpness was contrasted with his soft, green sweatshirt and bare feet, the picture of domesticity. All of it was at odds with the keenness of his shot, the Nerf gun still aimed dangerously at Albert’s chest. Nonetheless, every inch of him was beautiful.

Of all the things he’d been afraid of, falling in love with his roommate was the least expected.

He was suddenly a lot more worried about his first impression.

0000

He needn’t have worried: because on the opposite side of the dorm, the same things were going through Finch’s head.

Finch had always been a sucker for a redhead; the man in front of him, with his strikingly fiery curls, was no exception. Every line of his face was beautiful - from the creases around his eyes to his goofy grin. His eyes were a sweet brown, like Nutella or hot cocoa, deep and inviting. They caught the light like a Pokémon trainer catches them all. His lips were pulling slowly out of a grin into a shocked gape. Even in his confusion, he was breathtaking. His arms cradled his moving box like Cupid cradles his bow - invitingly and full of undiscovered love. His legs were obviously strong, judging by the way his jeans were stretched over them. 

Finch couldn’t move or breathe or look away. He needed to lower his Nerf gun, introduce himself and explain, something, anything. Instead, he stood, transfixed and in awe. If this man were the moon, then Finch were the tides - unable to move without his say-so. His every thought was directed by this beautiful stranger.

His new roommate. 

His roommate.

His.

That snapped him out of it. 

0000

The beautiful stranger cleared this throat.

“Sorry!”

“Nice shot,” whispered Albert.

The stranger smiled, brushing the back of his neck. He spoke again.

“Uh, hi?”

Albert nodded. That was exactly what he’d been trying to say. 

“Hi.”

A moments more of silence settled around them. Neither was entirely sure how to come back from that introduction, and both were too transfixed by the other to risk saying the wrong thing.

Albert eventually found his courage. Shuffling his moving box onto one arm, he extended his hand in greeting.

“I’m Albert.”

Tossing his Nerf gun to his bed, the stranger followed suit.

“Patrick, but the guys back home called me Finch.”

“Why 'Finch'?” Albert asked.

“I put a bird in the principal’s office 'cause he was homophobic,” the boy - Finch - shrugged, “It’s my greatest achievement to date.” 

Albert didn’t know if he could fall more in love than he was already. His heart felt like it might explode. This adorable, Nerf-gun shooting, homophobe-hating man was all he could think about. He was distantly aware that he needed to bring his stuff in from the car, needed to put down the dildo box and unpack, but he was happy just standing in the doorway watching Finch.

However, his standing was misinterpreted by his new crush, who suddenly smacked his forehead and stepped to the side.

“Oh, sorry, I’m totally blocking the way. Come in.” He swept his hands to the side like a waiter, ushering Albert in.

He took his chance, stepping in and putting his box on the empty bunk. It tipped merrily onto one side, revealing another of Jack’s secret messages. Albert flopped his head back with a groan. Finch caught sight of the new scribble as well. He couldn’t help but chuckle.

Albert excused himself to get the rest of his boxes from the car, but also so he could get some fresh air. Finch was beautiful and badass. He was unlike any other guy Albert had met. If he blew his chance with him, well, he’d never forgive himself. He might be getting ahead of himself, but he kept wondering what Finch might look like in a tux and what song their first dance would be to. His mom had always called him a hopeless romantic, so had Jack. He was inclined to agree. He loved the idea of falling in love and marrying his favourite person ever, having a husband to share life’s moments with. And yeah, he’d only known Finch for ten minutes, but every fibre of his being seemed to think this guy was the perfect candidate. 

He daydreamed all the way back to the dorm, trying to think of something charming to say to Finch. A pickup line? Or maybe some poetry. Where was Jack when you needed him? That man could charm the pants off of anyone. Although, from memory, he and Davey met when Jack accidentally tipped his paint water out over the art room balcony and all over Davey’s head. 

As he stepped through the door of his dorm, he took a breath and prepared to ask Finch out. However, his new roommate was already speaking, pointing at the box on his bed.

“Okay, I gotta ask-“

“-It’s not dildos, I swear,” Albert cut him off.

“-who defaced your box?”

“Oh.” Wasn’t expecting that. “Um, Jack. Pain in my ass.”

Finch nodded, snickering, and gestured the box in Albert’s arms. This one read TIME MACHINE - DISASSEMBLED. 

“So is he ya boyfriend or something?”

“Oh, fuck no.” Albert laughed - imagine him dating Jack, yuck - and clarified, “He’s sorta my brother? Lived next door to me and my Ma. He’s just up the hall now, helping Davey unpack.”

“Davey?”

“Jack’s boyfriend,” Albert shrugged. He wondered what Davey saw in Jack but decided not to think too hard. Davey was a least twice as smart as Albert would ever be; he would have his reasons. He expressed this to Finch, who laughed and offered a similar anecdote about a friend called Spot who was dating some extroverted Manhattan twink with a sarcastic streak a mile wide. 

“They’re perfect for each other because no one can understand them,” Finch smiled, “the peanut butter and jelly of people.”

They continued to laugh and talk about their friends, bonding over their weird friends with weirder names. 

Albert ducked out for more boxes. He moved every crass title from his car to his dorm, unpacking them as he went to discover their real contents. Finch offered the help him carry them back to his mom’s car when they were empty.

On the way, he asked about Jack’s prank again.

“So, Jack’s a prankster?”

Albert nodded, “Yeah, we’ve had a prank war going since the ninth grade.”

“War, huh?” Finch raised an eyebrow. “How you’re gonna get him back?”

“No idea yet, but it’s gonna be big.”

Finch was sure that it would be. He told Albert as such.

“Let me know if you’ll be wanting help,” he smiled, playfully elbowing his ribs, “I’m a sharpshooter, after all.”

Albert wasn’t sure how that would come in handy, but he filed it away for later use.

0000

In their first week together, they circled around each other, teasing and testing. It was an easy tension of learning each other’s habits and personalities.

As it turned out, Finch was a troublemaker. With his keen eye and trained aimed, he and his Nerf gun could wreak all kinds of havoc. Albert found himself stuck with more darts than he’d ever seen. He learned to listen for the quiet ‘snick’ sound of the gun being loaded, hyper aware of the bright orange darts as they landed around him. 

Finch used his talents for good, sometimes, shooting bananas off the hand with a carefully modified ‘knife dart’ - which turned out to be a Nerf dart with a straightened out paper clip in it. He could also switch the lights off from his bunk with one flick of the trigger. Both were pretty cool tricks, but Al found himself loving Finch’s cheeky moves more.

He had returned to the dorm after class to find that Finch had used his posters as target practice, using strategically placed darts to block out certain letters and leave crude messages for him. The next day, he was greeted with a flurry of darts as he entered the room, Finch raining down on him with his most quick-firing gun. He also left Albert notes on the dorm door, where anyone could read them - thanks for letting me borrow your toothbrush! and Adam from the butt-lift place called - they can fix your pancake butt! and Where’s the haemorrhoid cream?

Albert loved it. In return, he reset Finch’s ringtones to weird and embarrassing sounds and short-sheeted his bed. He also stole Finch’s hats and sweatshirts, basically combining their wardrobes into one mega-wardrobe. He also replaced all of Finch’s stationery with sticks of gum, which turned out to be less of a prank and more of a genius ice-breaking hack. 

They grew closer. All the pranks led to them getting to know each other’s likes and dislikes, their insecurities and routines. The more Albert learnt, the more he wanted to know. Finch was becoming his best friend. The crush he was nursing grew into a warm and unexplainable thing. Each passing day brought new moments of friendship and growth. Finch challenged him, distracted him, entertained him. He was bright and annoying, glued to his hip like a loyal puppy and floating around him. Albert grew to love his company, loved how he would ask questions while you studied - that was more helpful than he could have known, helping Albert to identify the gaps in his knowledge. Finch was the puzzle piece he had been missing.

Finch felt the same, although Albert didn’t know that. He loved the way that Albert would respond to his cheek and snark with jibes of his own. Albert enjoyed his pranks and put thought and time into retaliating. He was quieter than Finch, happy to just share the room with you without needing conversation to fill the void. He seemed to light up when Finch asked him questions, explaining the complex medical topics he was learning. He was full of adrenaline and grace, not often static. Finch found himself following Albert’s movements when he paced, drawn in. Albert was his muse. He couldn’t get enough of the beautiful redhead.

0000

At the opening of their second week, Albert returned to their dorm with a twinkle in his eye and a bagel in his hand. Finch, with Nerf gun in hand, shot a dart into the hole of the bagel.

“You!” Pointed Albert.

“Me?” Questioned Finch playfully.

“How would you like to help me get back at Jack?”

Finch nodded, “I’m in. What’s the play?”

As it turned out, Jack had planned a secret date for Davey. They hadn’t had a lot of time since coming to college, so Jack wanted to do something nice. He’d told Albert that he and Davey were going to have a picnic on the sports fields in the evening. Super romantic, at least it was supposed to be. 

“I want to crash their party,” explained Albert, “but I need your help.”

He then explained that they needed a way to get in and out fast. If they lingered, Jack’s wrath would rain down upon them. Speed is of the element, Finchy, Albert had said. Luckily, Albert had become sort-of friends with one of the security guards. This guard, Denton, agreed to ‘accidentally’ leave the keys in one of the school’s golf carts for their use. As long as they returned it in one piece, no one would be the wiser. 

“Where do I come in, Al?” 

“I want you to get your best Nerf gun -one o’ those ones that shoot really fast. While I'm driving, I want you to spray ‘em with darts. I got some toilet paper to throw. I just didn’t think that was enough. Plus, you’ve got a wicked sense of aim. I could use a little help.”

It was a solid plan. Like Jack’s box prank, it wouldn’t hurt anyone. Albert assured him Davey would think it was funny too. He was almost as much a part of the war as Jack or Albert. If anything, he'd take it as an invitation to get his own revenge. No one’s day’s gonna be ruined. 

“I’m your guy,” smiled Finch, “when do we start.”

“We ride at six. Wear something stealthy.”

0000

Six o'clock rolled around quickly. Finch had ducked out to the dollar store, picking up some more sticky darts. When he returned, he found Albert. His crazy roommate was dressed like a cartoon cat-burglar, complete with a black turtleneck and war paint. He was hastily stuffing toilet rolls into his backpack. They were armed to the teeth with Nerf darts, toilet paper, and biodegradable party confetti. 

“Looking good, Al,” laughed Finch.

He was also dressed for the occasion, a mismatched all-black ensemble. He even opted for some fingerless gloves he saw at the store. He had never been one to half-ass a prank. Besides, going all out might impress Albert. 

“Ready?” 

“Born ready, Finch.”

“Funny, I thought you were born ‘Albert.’”

A roll of toilet paper hit him in the head.

0000

The plan was in motion.

Denton had left the cart parked by the dormitories. They were set to go, just waiting for confirmation that Jack was in position. Sure enough, Davey posted a sappy picture on his Snapchat story, toting Jack’s merits as a caring boyfriend. They were clearly on the sports field, spread out on an honest-to-goodness checked rug, picnic basket and all. The sunset painted pastel lines behind them.

As the light of sunset faded to night, they started up the cart. Crammed in with the ammo and a truly gigantic nerf gun, Albert and Finch were pressed into each other’s sides. Unbeknownst to them, both were enjoying the contact, pining for more than just the necessary contact of the cart. They drove at agonisingly slow speeds towards the sports fields, staying in the cover of the shadows of the campus. If they were caught, it would all be over. Luckily, the pair thrived on adrenaline.

Their trip to the sports fields was short and silent. Albert couldn’t help but hold his breath as if the sound of it might give their location away. It didn’t occur to him that the sounds of the cart would get them caught before his breathing would. Finch kept directing him with hand signals, guiding the cart through a maze of secret tunnels that kept them hidden.

Eventually, the great secrecy of it all got the better of them. Albert could picture them, both dressed like the bad guys in a cartoon spy movie, zooming through the campus with reckless abandon. They weren’t going fast at all - he thought it might not even bruise if he fell out of the cart. But here they were, leaning and ducking with each move as if they were in a Fast and Furious movie. Finch was holding onto the roof to stabilise himself. They were surrounded be a hoard of completely harmless weapons, yet they acted as if they were heading into a war. That last thought, along with the image of what they must look like, cause Albert to giggle. 

Once.

Twice.

A snort.

Then Finch started. 

Their silent voyage was overrun with laughter. Finch was shaking, trying to contain his sounds. Albert was hiccuping out barks of laughter. The noise grew until it drowned out the hum of engines. Try as they might, there was no stopping it. Tears filled Albert’s eyes. Finch took hold of the wheel and directed the cart as he snorted. They continued on, the most joyful caravan in the country. They couldn’t stop their noise until they saw the sports fields.

It was a bracing and sobering experience. Two weeks of thinking and planning had led them to this. The importance of their mission overcame their joy. They pulled their adrenaline back in, the noise level dropping below the noise of the cart. It was time.

The light from the fake tea light candles on the rug guided them. A moment of quiet and a few hand gestures revealed that there would be no way to sneak up on them. The cart was too big, the moon too bright. The element of surprise would be lost too quickly if they approached cautiously. Albert made the motion for ‘step on it’, pressing his palm out in front of him. Finch nodded. Mouthing the words, Albert counted down from three. He threw the golf cart into gear, shredding across the lawn at max speed.

The pickup in speed caused them both to shout. Any semblance of sneaking in was abandoned as Albert and Finch began a deafening war cry of whooping and cheering. They bounced across the field, the cart shaking with effort. One hand on the wheel, Albert loaded himself with a roll of toilet paper. Finch aimed his Nerf scope, fixed on the happy couple.

Jack caught sight of them too late. 

“ALBERT!”

A shower of Nerf darts cut off his cries. Albert hit him square in the chest with a roll of paper. Davey, shocked and excited, burst out gleefully at the shower of multicoloured confetti, picking up handfuls and tossing them at his boyfriend.

The drive-by took only a few seconds. There was chaos as they unloaded all they had at Albert’s friends. It would long be remembered as the highlight of the whole prank war. The picnic rug, previously set out romantically with breadsticks and candles, was now littered with darts and rolls of paper and a sprinkling of reflective paper strips. It was glorious. Strangely, it looked like the leftover mess from a child’s birthday party. In Albert’s eyes, this was perfect revenge.

“That’s for the boxes, Kelly!” He screamed as they sped off.

The cart barrelled across the fields and out of sight, leaving Jack and Davey in its wake. The boys, happy with their successful mission, tore off into the night in fits of giggles once more. They didn’t stop until they were well out of sight. Only when they had pulled the cart to a stop outside the security office did they finally calm down.

Pressed close and sweating awfully, they breathed through the rush of adrenaline. The whole evening had come to a crescendo. They both smiled, calming down.

“That was awesome,” Albert laughed, “Thank you, Finchy.”

Finch slung an arm around him, “Always, Al.”

They stayed intertwined for a second. Albert liked the feel of being so close to Finch, tucked into his chest safe and warm. He didn’t want to pull away, but he was becoming more aware of how close they were. This was closer than friends. He was sure Finch knew that.

Pulling back, he looked to his roommate. 

“Finch?”

“Hmm?”

He took a deep breath. It was now or never. He was going to say something.

“Would ya like it if we-“

He was cut off by Finch’s lips on his. 

Oh, yeah, let’s do that.

His brain went offline, surprised by the kiss. Finch’s lips were dry from the cold night air but soft and cool against his own. He could feel the flush of Finch’s cheeks. He gasped through his noise - a noise of shock and approval.

Finch pulled back as he tried to reciprocate. He looked him cautiously in the eyes.

“I sure hope I didn’t read that wrong.”

Albert chuckled. He pulled him in by the shirt, nearly tipping Finch out of the cart with his enthusiasm. This kiss was perfect. Longer and deeper than the other, they were chest to chest by the end. They weren’t yet used to this motion, so their chins and noses bumped as they moved, prompting little giggles between their lips. It was the happiest kiss Albert had ever had. Finch was warm and close and all his for a few moments.

Finch bit his nip with a mock growl, pulling back to smile at him. Albert looked flushed and overwhelmed. However, the smile that split his face betrayed his emotions.

“I hope that’s my last first kiss ever,” Finch whispered.

Albert looked shocked, but his smile didn’t fade. 

“Okay,” he nodded.

They tumbled out of the cart a minute later. They knew that wasn’t the end of it. Finch was sure he wanted to marry Albert, but there was more to do. They needed to get to know each other more and finish college and meet each other’s families. They weren’t at the end yet, but this was a damn good place to start. 

They walked back to the dorm with hands intertwined. No matter what happened next, Albert knew this was the start of a beautiful life.

0000

He was right, too. He and Finch got married six years later, after college. Never had there been a better couple, better friends, or better lovers. They had grown into the most badass and unstoppable team.

They drove away from their wedding with cans tied to the back of a golf cart.

0000

Again, happy holidays and seasons greetings, @kathreestars. Hope this is everything you hoped for. Best wishes, Corbin.

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maltedmilkchocolate replied to your post “WHAT DID LANCE DO WITH HIS DEGREE?? :0000”

Dhfjdjdhdu "Babe i love you, but next time *drop them off at the reception desk and not my door*" "Ah... i did? And the receptionist told me to go on through." "..... Of course they did." *mental image of the desk staff also getting hype over Keith*

Lance gets a lot of what the kids call “clout” from his students after that day. Most of them think it’s pretty damn cool that Lance is open about having a boyfriend, and he basically becomes the coolest teacher in the school when they find out who his boyfriend is. I felt like writing the scene so I’m putting it under a readmore. It’s unedited so like Don’t Judge Me it’s Illegal

“Make a left at the library, and he’s in 233; It’s the room without a number on the door.”

Keith wasn’t exactly sure why they’d bother telling him the room number in that case, but it did little to ease his social anxiety--here he was, a full-ass adult, worried about the judgement of random teenagers finding him knocking on the door to a maintenance closet.

But he rounded the library without slowing his roll, adjusting the stack of tests against his chest for the umpteenth time for fear they’d spill out onto the floor (another nightmare scenario Keith thought he’d done away with when he switched to online classes in his own sophomore year.) He counted the class numbers as he led down to the stairway at the end of the hall: 229, 231... and at the end, another windowless door, this one with a white 8.5x11 sheet of paper duct taped to its front, “233″ scrawled across it in unmistakeably familiar handwriting.

Keith breathed a small sigh of relief, halting before the door. As corny as it might sound, it felt like Lance always looked out for him, even when he didn’t intend to. He shifted the stack of papers into one hand, then brought the other up to rap against the door.

It took less than three seconds for the door to swing open, the chatter of a bustling class hitting his ears full force. He had to look down a short ways to find the person on the other side, a young girl whose face went wide-eyed and slack-jawed in the span of a moment.

He tried a smile on. “Hi. Uh, is your teacher here?”

Her expression didn’t betray whether or not she’d heard him. Thankfully, a familiar voice sounded from behind her. “Keith,” Lance called, waving a hand to catch his eye as he deked between desks towards the door. Keith noticed then that the class had gone dead silent, and that every pair of eyes was now on him.

“Got the tests.” He extracted them from their precarious hold without incident, holding them out with both hands. It did little to temper Lance’s frown.

“Thanks, Jade.” He glanced to his student once he made it to her side, then jerked his head to the side, motioning her back to her seat as he reached for the stack of papers with both hands. “I thought I told you to come by at lunch,” he muttered, almost surreptitiously, through his teeth.

“Kosmo has a grooming appointment.”

“Why didn’t you just leave it at the office?”

From behind him, someone called a “Mr. McClain,” that he didn’t even seem to hear.

He shrugged. “They told me to go up myself.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Of course they did, pain in my--”

“Sir,” a more insistent voice interrupted, “is that Keith Kogane?!”

Lance clamped his jaw shut, took in a deep breath, and let it out as a groan. He whirled on his heel, facing his class. “Yeah, alright--guys, this is my boyfriend, Keith. Keith, welcome to grade ten Spanish.”

It wasn’t anger, Keith realised in that moment, it was unease. A grin tugged at the corner of his lips, and he folded his arms across his chest, leaning against the doorframe. “What, you never told your class about me?”

“I told them I have a boyfriend, and that his name is Keith. No one asked about your last name.”

“Seems like a pretty big detail to skip over.” From the class, there was an uneven chorus of agreements. Keith bit his lip to keep from laughing at Lance’s deepening pout.

Lance huffed, shooting him a flat look. “I’ve got a hard enough time keeping them on task as it is.”

“Can Keith stay for the rest of the class?” Someone asked.

“Nope!” He called over his shoulder. “He’s got to go get our dog’s butthole squeezed.” Lance flattened the stack of papers against Keith’s chest, nudging him back.

Keith braced himself with a foot behind him, staying put. “I think I can stick around for five minutes.”

“No you don’t,” Lance grumbled between them, pushing more insistently now.

Keith acquiesced, but only a step back. “So you can dish it out, but you can’t take it?” Considering the countless times Lance has embarrassed him in front of his workmates, he’s shocked at how easy it was to get under his skin, now that he knew where to poke.

“I can take it,” Lance protested, “what I can’t take is you. Out.”

Keith cocked a challenging eyebrow. “What, I don’t even get a kiss goodbye?”

Lance laughed, though he tried to pass it off as a scoff. “You’re going to get a boot in your--backside,” he caught himself, “if you don’t scram.”

“Wow, love you too.”

“Love you.” He let go with one more push, then stepped back across the threshold, reaching for the door handle. “I’ll see you tonight, jerk.” Then he slammed the door shut.

[puckyeahmightyducks]

NaNoWriMo Day 1

Today’s writing ended up being a complete one shot. Enjoy some (totally unedited) Mallory misery! It had been a pretty decent day. Things were nice and quiet at the base, there had been no criminal activity for the last week, and it was the off season. She had as much free time as she wanted this afternoon and she was going to enjoy it by wandering around the mall and then catching a movie later. Her good mood was shattered when she saw it. Mallory stopped and stared at the life size, cardboard standee of herself outside the Shoe Zone. She remembered doing the photo shoot, but she had never okayed which photos they were allowed to use. They had to have picked the absolute worst one possible. The cutout had her standing sideways, one hand on her hip and an athletic shoe in the other hand while she smiled vacantly. At that angle, her bill looked horribly misshapen. The cutout was a little smaller than she really was, despite being supposedly life sized. They had removed all traces of her muscles in favor of making her into one of the stick-thin, skeletal models California loved. That... That had to go. No way. While she watched, a mother and her young son came out of the store and he excitedly stood by the standee, smiling while she took his photo. While she watched, a three teenage boys came out of the store, laughing as two posed by the standee while the third took their photo. One of the boys grabbed the cardboard breast while the other pretended to slap its rear end. "Dude, she's so hot," one joked. "I know! I'd totally sleep with that alien." "You'd sleep with anything." "Yeah, but," he moved behind the standee and made thrusting motions with his hips, "She's probably never been with a real man." He laughed loudly while his friend gave him a high five. Mallory cleared her throat and took a step closer to them, arms crossed and a death stare directed at the one saying he'd sleep with her. "What was that?" she growled. "Oh, shit..." Kyle's eyes grew wide and the other two grew silent at seeing the real life hockey player in front of them. "That's no way to talk about a lady," Duke's voice came from behind her as he appeared from nowhere. “Now, if I were you,” he pointed at them, “I’d leave before I decide to help her teach you boys some manners.” “Uh, yeah,” Jason nodded. “No problem. Sorry. We didn’t mean any disrespect.” “Bullshit,” Mallory said. “Bye!” the third one said as they all turned and ran to the food court. The two ducks stood in silence for several moments, watching them retreat. Mallory glared at the standee once more, not really sure how she felt. How could some stupid human kids make her feel cheap like that? “They shouldn’t have done that,” Duke said quietly. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, shaking her head. “What time does the movie start again?” He looked at her, weighing if it was worth talking about or if he should just let her drop the topic. “Half hour,” he said. “That’s not a good photo of you anyway.” “I wish I could burn it.” She turned and headed towards the theater, making sure to keep a respectable distance between them as they walked side by side. Boys humping effigies of her was bad enough; she didn’t need more tabloid talk of her cheating on Nosedive with Duke or having a secret fling with the team’s center. “Hm. Not a bad idea.” He kept the same distance, not moving to close it. 0000 Anaconda had been the worst movie that they had seen in a long time and they both loved it. The movie had been good enough to take their minds off the stupidity in he mall earlier. That was, until they walked past Shoe Zone again on their way out. The mall was closing and an employee was moving the standee and shoes that had been displayed with it into the store before pulling down the gate. “Hey!” Duke called out, jogging to the store as the young woman jumped up to grab the gate and pull it down. “Oh! Wow! Hi!” She stopped with the gate halfway down. “You’re Mighty Ducks!” “Hi.” Mallory glared at the paper version of herself. “Yeah. Uh, is there any chance we could have that?” Duke asked, pointing to the standee. “I really wish I could.” She sighed. “We’d have to order another through corporate and this thing is super popular. We’ve almost sold out of the Ice Runner’s this week. My manager wouldn’t let me.” “Okay. Thanks.” He turned to go. “Wait!” “Yeah?” Duke and Mallory turned around again. “Can I have an autograph?” “Would it get us that thing?” Mallory asked. “I don’t want to lose my job,” she said. “It’s okay.” Duke pulled a pen from his pocket and looked at her expectantly. “Oh! Uh…” She felt around in her pockets and pulled out a receipt. Duke signed it and handed it to Mallory. She shook her head, refusing at first, but Duke pushed the pen and paper at her again and she scribbled a quick mess of a signature. “Have a good evening,” Duke said as he and Mallory left. “I hate that thing,” Mallory said again. “How many of them do you think there are in the city?” “How many Shoe Zones are there?” “I don’t even want to think about it…”

0000 “Hey, Mal!” Nosedive called out at seeing his teammate in the kitchen. “What?” She finished putting her sandwich together. “Want to take lunch to Tanya?” “Is she working on something and not eating again?” “No.” “Then she can get her own food.” She added chips to the plate and moved to sit at the table. “Come on,” he pleaded. “Please?” “You make it.” She took a bite of her sandwich. “She likes your food better?” Mallory paused in her chewing and frowned at him. She finished chewing and swallowed before answering. “What are you up to?” “Nothing! Just, make Tanya lunch and take it to her.” “Wait a minute…” She mentally ran over the schedule for the day. “It’s Wednesday. She should be at that island with Huggerman.” “Ugh. Fiiiine.” He sat down across from her. “Just go to the lab, okay?” “Why?” She continued eating her meal. “Because?” He tried a charming smile. “Don’t feel like it.” She munched on a chip. “But—” She put another chip in her mouth and crunched it loudly. He waited for her to finish. “So—” She ate another chip, looking him in the eye and daring him to interrupt over the noisy food. “Are you—” Another one. “Fine!” He stood, throwing his arms up in the air. “Just go to the lab. Duke’s got something he wants you to see.” She stopped eating and frowned at him. Puzzling through what Duke could want to show her, decided it wasn’t that important if he was sending Nosedive instead of telling her himself, and picked up her sandwich for another bite. “You’re really not going?” “Maybe later.” She took a drink of water. “Your loss.” He stood up and left. Just before the door closed, he stuck his head back in and said, “Guess we’ll just set everything on fire without you.” Fire? That sounded fun… She quickly ate the last bite of sandwich and put the plate in the dishwasher before hurrying to the lab. 0000 When Mallory looked entered Tanya’s lab, she found herself surrounded by dozens of the hideous standees from Shoe Zone. “What?” She half shouted. “Why?!” Duke chuckled and walked over to her, a flame thrower in his hands. “You said you wanted to burn it.” “But, how? I didn’t think you could get these?” “Not too hard to run off with them when a star hockey player’s distracting the clerks,” Duke said. Nosedive stood next to one, grinning. “That’s a really bad photo, Mal.” Duke held the flame thrower out to her. She grinned and took it. They moved one of the standees into the flameproof containment unit in the lab and she eagerly squeezed the trigger, sending flames shooting out to burn the cardboard to ash. They spent the rest of the afternoon setting up the standees in different formations, burning them all. 0000 Tanya hummed to herself as she entered her lab. She had some more dermatic dressings growing in petri dishes and wanted to check on them. The distinct odor of chemical accelerant and ash filled the air. Someone had been in there… “They’d better not have messed with the spectrometer,” she muttered, walking around the lab and looking for disturbed things. What she found was an inch thick pile of ash in the containment unit and three sets of bootprints surrounding it. She considered finding whoever did it and forcing them to clean up the mess. Instead, she decided to add an extra serving of capsaicin to dinner next week.

[reversedscene]

i know this wasn’t the main point of dan’s video today but i want to discuss his suicide attempt, more so his recovery and his role in my own (disclaimer/tw - i will be discussing suicide and self-harm).

Back in the beginning of 2015 (also back when i was knee-deep in the Dan and Phil fandom) i went through a super rough patch, depression, hated the way i looked etc, to the point where i was considering doing something drastic. i had a mini breakdown in school and got sent to the guidance councillor, who then had to call my parents because i “was a threat to myself”. i 100% understand the need for that rule, however i still hate it on a personal/petty level because i told someone something in confidence and then they basically taddled on me to my mother.

Anyway, that day was one of the worst of my life. I hate worrying my parents and to me it was shameful that my mum now carried (and still might for all i know) a business card with five different youth depression/self-harm/suicide hotlines. Instead of being more open about my mental health, I drew it closer to me and vowed never to tell anyone ever again in case the situation would repeat itself.

Even if I hadn’t had that breakdown in class, I don’t think I would’ve reached out. I didn’t think that my case was serious enough to warrant help, after all I never had actually cut myself - I played sports, the marks would be too hard to hide in a change room - and only thought about suicide, but never actually made a plan (side note: please get help if you’re thinking about suicide, it doesn’t matter if you have a plan or not). But looking back that didn’t mean what I did was healthy. I used to keep track in the notes of my phone any time I had the urge to cut myself. It was a masochistic way of trying to either prove I need help or prove that I didn’t (depending on how many newly added tallies there were). I’m not going to say any more about exactly what I did because I picked it up the worst from an acquaintance telling a story like this; something I knew was unhealthy yet I picked it up anyway, and I refuse to give someone else that opportunity.

Another reason I felt “unworthy” of help was because I had friends, I had a ton of friends in school, I had friends on the sports teams I was a part of, I wasn’t lonely. Yet I was alone in my head because of the thought that I wasn’t broken enough to warrant fixing.

I remember thinking when I was 15 what it would be like to be 18 and off at university, then having the thought that I wouldn’t make it to 18. For months I stopped thinking of what university would be like, or senior year, because I genuinely thought I wouldn’t be alive to see it.

But I also remember making a conscious decision sometime after that day in guidance councillors office that I wanted to at least try to get better. I refused to put my mother through that again and at first that sent me down spiral of self-imposed emotional isolation, then it changed into a route of help and learning. Now, I still refused to reach out to others but I figured a mentality change was the first step.

It wasn’t an easy recovery, I don’t think any recovery is, but I am so happy I managed it. I’m two years past graduation, two years into university, two years into the rest of my life I thought I would never get to see.

Like I mentioned before, this all happened when I was knee-deep in my main Dan and Phil phase, and watching their videos helped immensely. Phil was the person I aspired to be through and through and the person I think a lot of my friends and family thought I was: unapologetically me, willing to try new things, and would do anything to get someone else in the world to smile. Dan was like a best friend, a person who could make me laugh endlessly, someone who seemed to have a few issues in common with me that we could joke about and make the weight in my chest feel a little less heavy. I can’t even begin to say how much they mean to me and I would definitely be a much different person than who I am today without them.

Like I said before, I know this wasn’t the main point of Dan’s video (although I am so proud of him) but his story about being happy he failed really resonated with me because it’s such a true statement as “cliche” as it sounds. There are so many things to look forward to that you can’t begin to fathom when you think about suicide.

I’m not going to pretend it’s all sunshine and daisies. I still struggle sometimes, I haven’t fully unlearned all the unhealthy habits I picked up, and I haven’t completely broken down all of my issues into ways that I can understand them. But despite all this, I’m happy. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in a while. And I know I have Dan and Phil to thank for that because they were a lantern guiding my way during one of my darkest hours.

So please, if you feel alone or unworthy or depressed or thinking about self harm or suicide, reach out to someone, be it a friend, a family member, or me, my ask box/messages are always open. I know I didn’t ask for help and actively rejected it when offered and I’m a huge hypocrite and I’m lucky it worked out, but don’t do what I did. I am still in the process (four years in) of unlearning so much unhealthy thoughts and habits that could have been easily overridden if I just asked for help.

If you are actively about to commit suicide, please call your local suicide hotline:

Argentina: +5402234930430

Australia: 131114

Austria: 017133374

Belgium: 106

Bosnia & Herzegovina: 080 05 03 05

Botswana: 3911270

Brazil: 188 for the CVV National Association

Canada: 5147234000 (Montreal); 18662773553 (outside Montreal)

Croatia: 014833888

Denmark: +4570201201

Egypt: 7621602

Estonia: 3726558088; in Russian 3726555688

Finland: 010 195 202

France: 0145394000

Germany: 08001810771

Holland: 09000767

Hong Kong: +852 2382 0000

Hungary: 116123

India: 8888817666

Ireland: +4408457909090

Italy: 800860022

Japan: +810352869090

Mexico: 5255102550

New Zealand: 0800543354

Norway: +4781533300

Philippines: 028969191

Poland: 5270000

Portugal: 21 854 07 40/8 . 96 898 21 50

Russia: 0078202577577

Spain: 914590050

South Africa: 0514445691

Sweden: 46317112400

Switzerland: 143

United Kingdom: 08457909090

USA: 18002738255

[accio-ambition]

No Good Deed (4/15)

Summary: Killian Jones is a gentleman. He and his brother pride themselves on the matter, even if it ends with harm to them. So when an angry ex of Killian’s client bites him, he tends to the wound, watches it heal, and thinks no more of it.Until he wakes up in a closet on his ship with no memory of what happened the night of the full moon. Fleeing from the unknown, the brothers Jones find Storybrooke, and with it, Emma Swan, who is a lot more familiar with their situation than anyone could expect. And when an old foe comes to their new home, Killian has to rely on new talents to keep those he loves safe. Rating: M for language, violence, some sexual content. (better safe than sorry) Content warnings: violence

pssst. PSSST. imma let you in on a secret. that person you've been wondering about? the one where you're like, "i know they're going to show up, where are they, cmon, hurry up?" they're here in this chapter ;) but SHHHH. as always, thanks a billion million gazillion to Taylor (@killiarious​) and Tragic (@wellhellotragic​) for all of the work that they've put into this. i feel like i haven't appreciated you guys enough because I know i haven't, and I'm trying to think of ways to repay that don't involve selling my soul. and another gajillion thanks to the mods at @captainswanbigbang​ for all the hard work and blood and sweat and tears they sunk into organizing this.

Ayo, you know the AO3 drill

Chapter Four

It’s rough, finding a new place outside of a city so populated. Killian’s left mostly to himself to look at places with Liam pulling more shifts at the station. At first, they look at Brooklyn and other places nearby, somewhere, in theory, Liam could keep his position and commute. He even goes so far as to look at some apartments. But they’re too expensive and populated. Together, they decide to look elsewhere.

A lot of elsewheres.

It takes a couple tries - Boston’s still too populated, Savannah too hot, among a slew of other towns of varying sizes - before they finally head as far north as they can.

“Canada’s got lots of forests, right?” Killian asks, staring at a map of the eastern seaboard from the passenger’s seat. After Liam’s last pay-for-muscle job, they hopped in the car and started driving. “We could take a pit stop at Niagara.”

“We’d have to change citizenship,” Liam says practically, focused on switching lanes on the highway. He sighs as he looks forward. “Maybe we just drive up to Maine and call it quits when we stop for gas.”

Killian laughs. “Who are you? That’s far too spontaneous for my brother’s brain.”

Liam shrugs. “What can I say? Life on the move has spurned a wee bit of something in me.”

Settling into the seat, Killian folds up the map as best he can and takes to staring out the window. He watches other cars, trees and guardrails, the occasional billboard pass by. His transformation is coming soon - he can feel an inkling of it in his bones - and they’ve got to find somewhere he can run free without hurting anyone, especially his brother.

He briefly falls asleep and wakes up as Liam pulls into a gas station. The sun is setting over the treetops. When he looks around, Killian notices there’s not much else around. A stoplight a little further down the road, some quaint little houses and shops.

“Where are we?” he asks, voice groggy.

“Storybrooke, Maine,” Liam answers. “Welcome to our new home.”

They’ve found something of a gem in Storybrooke. A small town, for sure, but large enough to spawn something of a suburb and boast two completely different grocery stores. But that’s not the charm that solidifies Storybrooke as their new homebase.

Since both of them have worked with, in, and around water and the sea, it’s a bit of an unspoken agreement between brothers that they have to move somewhere with a harbor. It’s a remnant of their childhoods, what’s left of the memory of their father that left them and their mother in the lurch. Every Sunday, their mother would take them down to the docks and walk along them along the water. Killian couldn’t be sure, but he liked to think that she found a connection with her former husband in the horizon on the other side of the water. It’s a feeling that runs stronger in Killian’s veins than Liam’s, probably due to the fact that Killian was younger and more naive, unknowing of the pain and uncomfortableness that their father left behind as Liam did. Still, there’s a certain solace the sea provides the brothers Jones, tainted memories included. How would one know what happiness is were it not for the sadness that came before it?

Killian finds a new job as the harbormaster, in charge of all the comings and goings of ships and boats. It brings him a certain sense of peace, something he could never really find even when he sailed the ferry across the Hudson River.

Much to Killian’s pleasure, Liam seems to settle in better than he does, if possible. Of all the odd jobs he’s worked in his life, the ad in the newspaper for a sheriff’s deputy - no experience required, training paid for - is the perfect fit. He’s already bossy, a leader, and a natural rule upholder.

“Finally,” Killian exhales, his forehead all but slamming on the kitchen table in front of him. “Now others will see the tribulations of living under your dictatorship.”

Rolling his head from side to side, the closest movement to shaking his head in this position, a thought crosses his mind and causes him to groan. He sits up. “You’re going to be an even more pompous arse with that blasted uniform on, aren’t you?”

They live in what either of them can only describe as a hovel, but it’s a hovel of their own, in their names alone. There’s enough grass around them that they could consider it a yard, especially the first spring they live there, when a surprise crop of buttercups pop up from the earth. Out toward the outskirts of town, it’s got enough rooms to be considered spacious and for each of them to have their own personal space.

Privacy is a very important quality to have when two brothers live together, especially as Liam settles further into his place in town. The inclusion of Elsa in their lives is messy at first. She’s a lovely lass - a bit on the quiet side, but Liam looks at her like she hangs the sun, moon, and stars all at once. And she, in turn, provides his brother a confidante other than Killian himself. Elsa brings out a softer side of Liam, one that Killian hasn’t seen since they were children. Probably not since their mother died and his brother added “guardian” to his resume.

They meet after a rather unfortunate incident: Liam’s covering the night shift while Killian, still a little unsettled from his last transformation, pays a visit to the local bar. He takes notices of the gaggle of ladies in the corner of the bar, sitting around the table and gabbing. As the night rolls on, they get a little too rowdy. When one of them ends up dancing on the table, Killian sees the bartender shake his head and reach for the phone.

A few minutes later, Liam struts in. He nods at Killian when their eyes meet and Killian can’t help but chuckle at the slight relief he spots in his brother’s expression when he realizes his younger brother isn’t the reason he’s been called. Still, he goes up to the man behind the bar and, after a brief discussion, Liam heads over to the table of women. The woman who stands up to deal with his sheriff brother has platinum hair, plaited down over her shoulder. Her hands come up, her motions soft and calming as she separates her friends from Liam.

He can’t hear what the conversation is, but the women settle down and Liam can’t seem to stop smiling. The woman says something to her friends before walking to the bar with his brother. Liam calls over the bartender and a moment later, his brother and Elsa are indulging in their first drink.

The rest, they say, is history.

Killian’s never really a desire for another older sibling, let alone a sister, but Elsa makes him rethink the idea. She adds a domesticity there’s never really been in the Jones residence, but she’s got a quick tongue that surprises everyone, including her adversaries in the courtroom.

Elsa introduces both of them to Storybrooke society, mostly by introducing them to her social butterfly of a sister, Anna. She somehow calms them both down in heated situations, especially between each other, and she does it all without ever raising her voice.

She’s the best thing to happen in their lives - or at least the best for them since Killian aged out of the system.

Unfortunately, they still have to keep Killian’s secret from her. For own safety, Liam insists.

“Liam, she’s practically family now,” Killian argues in whispers. It’s a Thursday evening and Elsa’s come over for dinner. She’s in the bathroom at the moment and Killian’s worried. “She has the right to know, especially when the new moon strikes within a week.”

“She doesn’t need to know, little brother,” Liam fights vehemently. “I’ll stay over at her place, that way we’ll both be out of your way.”

The conversation is cut short due to Elsa’s return, but Killian can’t help rolling his eyes.

“Oh no,” she says quietly, placing her napkin in her lap. “What did I interrupt? I can go in the kitchen and find look at your alcohol collection until you guys sort this out.”

Taking her hand, Liam shushes her with a smile. “No, honey, that’s alright. My little brother just doesn’t understand why I want to spend some time at your place.”

Killian, really having no other choice, plays along. “I don’t understand why because you always come back complaining that Anna wakes you up at ungodly hours.” Looking down at his mostly empty plate, Killian grumbles, “Trust me, I enjoy the reprieve from nightly activity noises.”

Liam scolds him for his inappropriate comment while Elsa hides her giggles behind her napkin.

(She’s truly the best thing to happen to them in a long while.)

0000

With each passing lunar cycle, the pain lessens. It still burns as it takes over his body, but just as with any sort of exercise, the body grows more tolerant. Liam remains the only person to know of his affliction, a fact that Killian fights the closer Liam and Elsa get. His brother finds more and more unusual ways to keep his lady love and himself away from the Jones house during full moons.

When the weather is nice enough, Killian often excuses himself by saying he’s going camping. Elsa doesn’t blink an eye, and if anyone finds him in the woods in any state of dress, he can say he just had a hard night in the forest.

(The ripping of clothes is still a problem when he transforms. A couple months into this experience, one would believe he’d be better at it.)

Killian’s wolf self loves those weekends. No one has run into him in any form, and the variety of creatures running about in the woods pleases him to no end. While he loved every day of living in New York with his brother, Storybrooke has a magical quality about it. Perhaps it’s the forests or the appearance of Elsa in their lives. It could be the accomplishment of adulthood or the freedom this little town gives them. Any number of things might be the reason. Killian fears that pinpointing the exact reason would ruin the magic.

It’s funny how just one small moment can change one’s perception of magical places. Wolf or not, it hits Killian right between the eyes one day.

“Liam!” Killian shouts, the front door to the station slamming shut behind him. Things are quiet down at the docks, fog failing to dissipate as morning turned to afternoon and making sailing conditions too undesirable. He’s got his pile of paperwork down to a manageable level and with the weather as poor as it is, Killian figures that most people are too fatigued by the grey day to commit any sort of crime. So, as he’s prone to do on occasion, he comes to offer Liam an outing for lunch.

When no one responds immediately, Killian walks further into the precinct. He expects to see Ruby or Leroy, the receptionist and other deputy respectively, but both their desks are alarmingly empty. Walking past them, he heads to Liam’s desk, and once he finds it unattended as well, Killian makes his way to the head sheriff’s office. It’s boxed off with half glass walls from the rest of the station, giving the semblance of privacy where there is usually none. Graham, however, installed blinds shortly after his appointment many years ago, and pulls them when he convenes a department meeting, as they are now.

Since his brother’s appointment to deputy, Killian’s skillfully infiltrated Storybrooke’s sheriff department, befriending Graham over a pint and Ruby with a drunk karaoke night or four. He’s walked in on many a department meeting and sat in the back, offering witticisms and snarky remarks when called for. Or even when they’re not.

(Leroy, as loud as he is, has still managed to vex him. The man is always grumpy.)

So he knocks on the glass door of the small room, giving them warning of his entrance, and waltzes in.

“Good morning, esteemed law enforcement of Storybrooke.” His greeting is too loud in the room, a boom of thunder during an otherwise silent night. Observing his surroundings, Killian becomes confused. Liam’s not standing beside the door. Leroy’s not sitting in the trouble seat with Ruby perched on the arm, checking out her nails. And, the most surprising thing he notices, is that Graham isn’t standing behind his desk, hands resting on the top of the wood and shoulders hunched over the week’s docket.

Instead, all four of them are sitting in front of the desk, chairs dragged in from other places in the building. The looks on their faces express concern and something like guilt, though Killian can’t explain why.

And then he looks to where Graham should be standing to discover his place is taken by a blonde woman, with leather-clad arms crossed over her chest.

She’s a marvel: that’s the first real thought that crosses his mind about her. Her stance radiates power, demands respect, and serves as one of the most powerful turn-ons Killian’s ever had the pleasure of being exposed to.

“Can I help you?” she asks, her voice gruff and unimpressed.

At the sound, his eyes shoot up, catching a flick of green as her eyes roll back in her head. Thrown for a moment, Killian shakes his head.

He soon recovers and turns on his swaggery pirate persona, “Well, that depends,” he replies. He gestures to Graham, and then back to her. “How come you’re in Graham’s place?”

There’s a moan from beside him, one Killian recognises as his brother’s. He turns briefly to catch Liam rest his forehead on his hand in disgrace. Killian shrugs. “What? I believe it to be a fair question.”

The blonde shakes her head. “This is a private meeting of sheriff department personnel,” she says. The satisfying clunk of her boots are slow and measured as she comes around the desk, stopping right in front of him. “If you’d please wait outside, someone will be out to help you in a moment.”

She grimaces at him, her poor attempt at a polite smile, then she takes the door frame from his lacking hold. “Thank you.”

Dumbstruck by the turn of events, Killian has no choice but to glance at his brother as he slowly backs out into the bullpen. Liam raises an eyebrow, nonverbally asking him to follow orders, just this once, and they’ll discuss the rest of the matters later.

Conceding defeated, Killian nods his head. "My mistake," he says, much more humbled.

"I apologize for interrupting."

The woman nods as if to say, "Yeah, sure, fine" before shutting the door behind him. Still a little gobsmacked by the unusual turn of events, Killian makes his way back to Liam's desk and takes a seat. He stares aimlessly at the framed photograph on his brother's desk, an identical match to the one that sits on his own desk down in the harbor. It's from when they were younger, one of the first weekends after Liam officially became his guardian. For some reason, he had saved up a ton of money - picking up extra shifts when he could, sleeping minimally for days at a time, and living off of Ramen and boxed macaroni - all so they could go out on a cheap little rented sailboat on a nice Saturday.

The man who owned the boat offered to take a picture of the two of them once they returned from the water. Sunburnt, a bit dehydrated, and smiling wider than either of them could contemplate possible, that was one of the happiest days of Killian's life. Everything finally seemed to be turning up in their favor.

While life or fate had sent he and his brother through the wringer, this turn of events was certainly not one he had seen coming. A new sheriff? It's not as though Graham has done poorly in his position, nor had he suddenly fallen in the line of duty.

But this new arrival is certainly an interesting development.

Staff meetings, or at least the ones he used to be privy to, lasted anywhere from ten to fifteen minutes. A brief greeting, perhaps a jab at Grumpy's expense, then a run down of the assignments for the day, followed by questions, comments, concerns. In and out before your coffee got cold. And while Killian figured, with the change in command and explanation of local quirks, it would go half an hour, maximum. This sheriff seemed to get straight to business, as if she was more excited about filing paperwork than about tackling the town's problems. Killian could sit and play around for a half an hour, no problem. Maybe he'd even take a nap.

But when a half hour passed, and then an hour, and then an hour and a half, Killian finally had enough. There were only so many times he could Facebook stalk his brother's account, or send himself emails from Liam's work account. Only so many Vine compilations and cat videos to be watched. His stomach growling was the last straw. He stood up, completely intending to march right back into Graham's office and call this meeting cruel and unusual punishment when the door he'd been coerced from earlier opened up.

Grumpy appears first, his facial expression much more sour than usual, followed by Graham, who looks like he needed a nap himself. Ruby comes after, her fingers already quickly flickering across her phone in response to texts or tweets or whatever the meeting had caused her to miss. Liam brings up the rear, slogging out with an apologetic look behind him. He’s barely out of the doorway before the glass door slams shut behind him and the shade shimmies down over the window.

"What's got her so uptight?" Killian asks, spinning around in his brother's chair and watching Liam settle in to work.

Liam merely shakes his head. "Get up," he grumbles, "I've got to get to work."

"I thought today was your day to patrol," Killian counters, rising anyways. "I was going to hop in the back and ask for a ride down to my office because I am not walking through that weather again today. Once was more than enough."

Sighing, Liam takes his seat and scoots in, simultaneously logging out of his Facebook and opening up a case file. "I'm not," he replies curtly.

Leaning in, Killian asks, "It's because of her, isn't it?"

"Sheriff Swan's in charge now, so I'm just following her orders."

"So that's the she-devil's name?" Killian ponders aloud, looking at the closed door behind which he knows she's probably so diligently working. Probably cackling over the change in order, cackling over huge piles of paperwork she either can’t wait to do or assign to one of the others. "Swan." To his knowledge, she fits the name: beautiful, mysterious, more than willing to bite at you should you get too close. He sits back against the edge of Liam's desk. "Huh."

"Don't be rude, little brother," Liam chastises. "She's new to town and the only thing she really knows is what she's meant to do as an occupation." He halts his typing long enough to glare at Killian and say, "Exhibit good form, brother. Don't be an arse."

"Don't be an arse," Killian parrots back with a scoff. "Did you tell her that? She scared the shit out of all of you. I've never seen Ruby turn her phone on vibrate and she did for this woman."

"Killian." He turns around to see Ruby, phone in hand, staring at him. "Liam's right. She's just trying to get a feel for what we're all like. You remember how it was when you guys first moved here."

Conceding to that matter, Killian nods slowly. "But neither of us were that rude, were we now, love?"

Ruby sighs. "No," she admits, and in the same breath goes to defend the woman. "But consider it from her shoes: she's replacing the male sheriff in a town in the middle of nowhere. She needs to exert her authority much more than if it were Graham's first day."

"That doesn't give her the right to..." Killian trails off. She is the sheriff, so technically, it does give her the right to kick him out of what should have always been private, sheriff department only conversations. And yet, Killian's riled up now, and he isn't quite ready to admit to being wrong. "What if there was a real emergency?" he asks instead, changing tactics. "She should have at least asked why I was there."

Just as he finishes his question, the woman herself, Swan, pokes her head out from between the door and its jamb. "What’s with the yapping? Is there a problem out here?" she asks before her eyes catch on Killian's. She puts on the same painful fake polite smile on, for his sake he can only assume, and ventures out of her office toward him. "Ah, yes sir, sorry to keep you waiting. How can the sheriff's department help you today?"

“Well, love, I had the hopes of saying hello to my brother and friends here at the station, but I can see that that way of life is no longer approved.” He sticks his hand out for a shake. “Killian Jones, at your service.”

“Jones?”

“Yes ma’am.” He nods toward Liam’s desk. “Younger brother to Deputy Liam Jones and occasional department volunteer.”

“Ah,” she hums, and Killian has to hide the slight smile of satisfaction he gets from seeing her face fall. Carefully, she places her hand in his. “Well, I’m sorry for being curt.”

Hoping to rock her world even further, Killian pulls her hand to his lips and press them against her knuckles. He catches a hint of red on her cheeks and hears her small, sharp intake of breath.

Mission accomplished. Even if it earns him a groan from Graham, a cackle from Ruby, and a scolding from his brother.

Swan pulls her hand away from him, brushing it against her thigh. “Mr. Jones, as the sheriff here in Storybrooke now, I’ll have to insist you act professional when you visit the department,” she orders. “Now, I’ve got a lot to catch up on, as do the rest of my coworkers, so I’m asking you politely to leave before things get ugly.”

“That, love, sounds like a promise.” This time, everyone groans at his gall, including Leroy. Holding up his hands, Killian slowly backs away. “I know when I’ve been bested. I’ll see myself out.”

With a solemn nod, Swan heads back into her office. Killian salutes Liam, waves at Graham and Leroy, and winks at Ruby on his way. It’s still soaking with no signs of letting up. He sighs.

“I don’t like her attitude,” Killian mumbles before heading out into the rain. “I don’t like it one bit.”

It turns out to be an absolute lie.

Killian has already prided himself on finding the toughest woman in the bar or the pub, at the party or the event, and wooing her into his bed. Or hers, he really isn't picky. A challenge, he used to say to his friends in New York. He liked a woman who proved to be a challenge.

(It was a rare find. One look and listen to him and almost any woman who had a slight inclination toward him was putty in his hands.)

This time, however, the toughest woman has managed to find him.

Swan proves to be the most difficult nut to crack yet. And, somehow, they fall in to an unlikely friendship nearly immediately. There's something in her that Killian responds to on a subconscious level himself. She snaps at the slightest insult, almost as though she's been fighting for her own way in life as long as he has. The first occasion Granny sends lunch for the whole department via the K. Jones Express, he spots the wild look in her eyes as she nearly pounces on the brown bags. They're all labeled with names, made special for each member of the sheriff's office, but Emma quickly opens and searches each one with the ferocity of a hungry teenager.

When she finally finds hers, she grabs it and takes it back into her office, the door all but slamming shut behind her. Curious, Killian brushes off the thanks Ruby and Graham give him in order to follow Swan cautiously to her home turf.

Gently pushing the door open, Killian peeks in. Swan's sitting at her desk inhaling her food, barely taking enough of a break to swallow and sip at her drink.

"So," he casually says, stepping into the room. She looks like a deer in the headlights, sandwich half-eaten, her mouth stuck open for another bite. "What did our dear Granny send for you today?"

Slowly, Emma places her sandwich back on the foil it was wrapped in and brushes her hands of crumbs. "Grilled cheese and onion rings," she answers.

"What a peculiar combination," Killian muses. He takes a seat in the trouble seat, right across from her. He notices her eyes narrow fractionally as he settles comfortably into the chair.

"Onion rings are better than fries." She says it as though it's a fact.

Killian shrugs. "I wasn't saying anything otherwise, love," he says. "It's just not a combination one sees very often."

Picking up her sandwich and taking another healthy bite, Emma chews in order to stall their conversation. Killian just waits, stares at her. He's never been one to find himself uncomfortable with silence, but this is certainly one of the least uncomfortable situations he's found himself in in recent memory. As he sits there, he notices the way Swan's hair curls slightly and falls from behind her ear, or the freckles that sprinkle her nose and cheeks. They haven't known each other for too long, but Killian finds it a little bit funny that he just now notices them.

Swallowing, Swan sends him a grimace, one he takes willingly. It's not as pained as it was when they first made acquaintance and with each passing meeting, it seems to get a little more genuine. Or at least it's heading in that direction.

"Not that I have to explain anything to you," she says, an attempt at being menacing, "but it's my favorite. It's comforting."

Killian nods in understanding. He claps his hands together, making her jump and causing a small grin to cross his lips. "Well, I'm glad the cold, hard sheriff does have a warm spot in her heart," he teases.

Emma sneers at him and rolls her eyes. "Har har," she says. Shooing him away, she adds, "Get out. I have work to do."

"I'm sure you do. That must be the reason you are swallowing Granny's delicious food whole and not because you're used to fighting for food." Killian winks at her. "You're obviously very devoted to your position and want to get back to your responsibilities as swiftly as possible, aye?"

He watches as she gulps a little bit harder at his words, and he knows with satisfaction that he's hit the nail on the head. Her head slowly nods up and down. Killian sends her a wink.

"That's what I thought," he murmurs. With a tilt of his head, he bows out of the room.

"Until next time, dear Swan."

[iknowthekoolaidflavor]

:0000 what if when thalia leaves for angelicas house she gets kidnapped and thomas has to kill to save her and shes like u still suck and ur a murderer but ................ ur also my dad ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Part two to the drabble to I wrote for @a-schuylerr

Read Part 1

Thalia’s heart was beating out her chest. A part of her was terrified. A part of her was pissed. How dare someone grab her while she was on her way to Angelica’s?

She had no idea where she was or who grabbed her in the first place. All she knew was that it was a man and he knew her father.

‘Of course he would have something to do with this’, she scoffed, ‘My life would be better off without him anyway’

(Y/N) paced back and forth in the kitchen. She knew Thalia would need a lot of time to cool off before she would even consider speaking to Thomas. 

It had only been twenty minutes since she stormed of, so she should be there by now. Judging by how fast she sped off, she didn’t take a bodyguard with her which set off an immediate alarm. Angelica had been notified that she was on the way, so when she answered her phone, she expected to hear that her daughter arrived already.

“(Y/N), how long ago did Thalia leave the house?”

“She should be there already. It’s been twenty minutes”

Your blood ran cold at the thought of someone getting their hands on your baby.

“She’s not here”

If Angelica was panicking, she did an amazing job at hiding it. 

“Call Thomas or James. I’m going to track her phone and see where that leads”

The call ended. It felt like you were auto pilot. Who the hell had your little girl?

Thalia sat in the dimly lit basement. Two people would come down at the same time. At first it was the yelling. They wanted information on her father. There was a part of her that wanted to rat him out, but she also didn’t know enough about his job in the first place. What would become of her family if she did know?

They came downstairs again, demanding she give that what they need.

“I told you I don’t know anything”, she said coolly

“That’s a lie!”, the man yelled, “How do you know nothing about your father?”

The question struck a nerve. She lived with that man her entire life and she felt like she knew nothing about him. Like everything she knew about him prior was one big lie.

‘Did he even care enough to look for me?’

Her resolve broke for two seconds at the thought of Thomas never finding her. 

“I know you’re scared right now, but we just need anything you have on your dad”

“If you knew this would be scary for me, why the hell would you kidnap me in the first place?”, she sneered

“Look, kid–”

“Don’t call me kid”

“You honestly think your the one calling the shots right now”, the man yelled

Thalia pondered, “Well you do need information from me that you don’t have”

In a split second, she felt a hand strike her cheek. As much as it stung, she refused to let them see her shed a tear.

“You’re not supposed to leave a mark on her!”, the other man nearly yelled

They reconvened after having a talk and she knew it was about to get worse. They pulled her chair back, placing a cloth over her face. She immediately panicked, knowing what would come next.

She could scream about how much she truly didn’t know, but the bottom line was they wouldn’t believe her. She wanted to make something up, but her mind went blank.

“Last chance sweetheart”

“I don’t know. Please, let me–”

She could feel the water dripping down her shoulders as she struggled for air. No amount of kicking and screaming would help her. It only stopped for a couple seconds before they started all over again.

The men paused when they heard a commotion upstairs. Men were screaming and they heard multiple gunshots. Thalia jumped every time the gun went off. The door at the top of the staircase opened.

Before the men could reach for their guns, Thomas and James stormed down steps and took them out.

The chair hit the ground and Thalia let out a sob.

“Baby?”

“Daddy?”, she cried

She could feel him untying her wrist and feet. As soon as the restraints were off, he squeezed her as tight as he could. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when she hugged him just as tight.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she felt him running his fingers through her hair.

“I’m so–”

“No”, he sighed, “I’m sorry. I should have never let this happen”

She couldn’t tell if he was referring to her getting kidnapped or him joining the mafia, but in that moment she was just glad that she was safe.

“Can we talk about this later? I wanna go home”

“Of course baby”, he kissed her on the cheek

Deep down Thomas was terrified about how this conversation would go. She may never see him the same again. He tried to forget the way she looked at him before she stormed out the house. There would always be a part of him that knew that his attempt to keep her safe is what hurt her the most. 

“Lets get you home”

Thalia wasn’t entirely sure what he did for a living, but she needed to know the truth. For just this moment, she would relish in the fact that Thomas would always be there to protect her, no matter the cost.