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twistedmusings · 4 years ago

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Reading Between The Lines

A/N: I feel bad whenever I say 'hey here is what I am working on' and then my muses tell me 'no...this is what you are working on'. It's like my brain can't concentrate on one thing entirely q wq. In my defense though, I'm exploring my twst faves...and Cater may be a runner up to Vil...

Warnings: Dry humping, dirty talking and a quick handjob just as unsatisfying and ungratifying as Cater feeling like maybe he shouldn't have let you go just yet.

“Whoops.”

Cater’s phone case cracked as it hit the floor, eyes locking with yours as you pull away from the Heartslabyul second year. Why had he even dropped his phone in the first place? The case had cost a lot and he had queued up for hours to get it, there should have been no reason for him to drop it.

Maybe the shock from seeing you in Heartslabyul?

No, that was normal. You were friends with Ace and Deuce after all so your presence in Heartslabyul was normal.

Maybe from seeing you in a bedroom that wasn’t a first year room?

He was coming to check up on a second year who had mentioned something about needing help in Astrology so Riddle had instructed Cater to help the guy out. The ‘strict Queen’ was aiming for the highest grade among the dorms, after all. So he was just carrying out his duty as an upperclassman!

So seeing you here, in this second year’s room, shirt around your elbows as a pair of hands--

that weren’t his--gently wrapped themselves around your waist was probably what made him drop his case.

Good to know, if he had come to that conclusion at any other time that you weren’t here, he might have said something mean to his lower-class men.

You move to fix your shirt as the second year rushes to apologize, walking up to him and spouting words Cater wouldn’t bother to hear. His eyes kept staring as you fixed yourself up to look a tad more proper than how he had found you.

It wasn’t like the sight of you in that state was unfamiliar to him, he just hadn’t seen it in a long time.

“Please just keep it between us, Cater-san! I don’t know what I’d do if the dorm head found out about this.”

He snaps out of his trance, looking down at the second year before grinning as he let out a slow hum, pretending to mull the request over in his head.

“Should I? If I remember correctly...Rule 345--Only when the sky turns red as it is dawning can a romantic partner be brought--”

“I--I’ll tell the dorm leader that you helped me with class!”

Cater grins, “That’s one way to make it up to me~ I guess for now I should leave you with a warning, right?” he tilts his head to call out to you, “The same goes for you [Y/N]-san! I can’t have you getting someone other than Ace and Deuce in trouble!”

He can't help but feel a sense of pride when you chuckle at what he had said, turning around to give him a peace sign as you walk by the second year.

“I’ll try to do an effort to hide in the closet next time.”

The second year takes your hand and kisses it, apologizing for the trouble and closing his eyes when your hands cup his cheek and pull him in for a kiss, the action making Cater look down at his phone and open whatever app he saw first.

You wave goodbye as Cater closes the door quickly, not giving you a chance to look at your second year lover fully as the both of you walk down the corridors of Heartslabyul in silence.

“So.”

“Hm?”

Green eyes keep looking at his phone, scrolling through Magicam absentmindedly but sparring you one look as he sees you scratching at a hickey--he would have left a bigger one-- the second year had left behind.

“Was he any good?”

In his defense, what had started between you two was clearly labeled as a ‘no feelings allowed, we are just here to have fun’ relationship. You seemed to understand his nature better than most and were down for something that wasn’t super serious and borderline erotic in a sense.

Cater was sure that you two had done it in at least one surface in every common room in Heartslabyul. The thought kept him awake at night, actually.

“Was he any good…” you repeat the question, “As good as I’m going to get from a second year.”

“Oh the poor guy.” Cater can’t help the snort that escapes him as you two walk down a set of stairs leading to the dorm’s entrance, “It is surprising you went for him, didn’t you mention that you liked the older type?”

“Well after a certain ‘older type’ decided to end things, I thought I should try my hand at something different. Change my ways, you know?”

He didn’t know. Cater had no idea what you were talking about, in fact. Why would you have to change your ways for anyone? You were amazing, interesting, entertaining and attention-grabbing all wrapped up in an older sibling type package that he had admitted to being attracted to when he had brought up the ‘friends with benefits’ proposition. If you changed in anyway he would be disappointed--

Dammit he was doing it again.

“If you want to start a relationship with someone in Heartslabyul, I would recommend Trey. He’s handsome, hardworking and you wouldn’t go hungry. Perfect man material right there.”

Cater knew that the small jab was directed at him so he decided to switch subjects, preferring not to linger in the awkward feeling that came with the consequences of his actions.

He ended things because he had broken the rules you both had set in place. Feelings weren't allowed and yet he had let them burrow deep inside his heart and fester like some sort of unknown virus. Cater didn't care for them so he nipped the problem in the bud, broke things off in an amicable manner and moved on.

But, like with everything in his life, it had all been an act.

If it had been just the sex keeping him awake, he would have understood. He's a healthy young man and some of the activities you two engaged in would make any first year jealous. And for a while the memories of you warming his bed generally did start to make him yearn for your warmth.

It was the possibilities of what you could have had that were driving him insane.

Would you have said no to a date? The only thing you two did when you were alone were have sex, make fun of Magicam models, sleep and then have sex some more so surely you would have liked a change of scenery as well.

But he didn't know you as much as he wished he did. Nights in his bed had been spent tossing and turning as to what your answer would have been. Why did he even care? You both still hung out, you still had his number, it wasn't like either of you were dead to each other!

Cater just didn't know how to react to you seeing someone else, if that is what you were even doing in the first place.

"Trey-senpai? I guess...he is rather sweet, isn't he?"

"In more ways than one."

"...but I will have to pass." you rub the back of your neck, "You know I don't like sweets."

The clock strikes ten as Cater's eyes take all of you in, his mind blanking out for a response before he clicks his tongue and points behind him.

"Say, Prefect, I think you may have left something in my room. Mind if I give it to you now?"

-----

"Oh. Your case cracked."

"Yeah. Dropped my phone. Bummer, huh?"

"Here I thought you held onto that thing for dear life, can I see it?"

Cater laughs as he takes his phone out of his back pocket and hands it to you, turning back to dig in his drawer for the sole sock that you had left about a month ago.

Who was he bullshitting? He was panicking, plain and simple. Here he was, rummaging through his drawer like an idiot as he pretended to have a sock that he knew he didn't have all to keep you with him for a couple more minutes.

Stars, who was he? He didn't know himself anymore.

“And...dammit.” he laughs as he closes the bottom drawer of his heart closet, “Couldn’t find it. I’m sorry [Y/N]-chan, I shouldn’t have taken your time like that. Do you want me to walk you back to the dorm...or maybe you wanna talk on the phone while you walk there?”

He goes to grab his phone but stops as he turns to look at you, your fingers tracing the giant crack on the case before tapping it twice in quick succession.

“[Y/N]--”

“We both really messed up, huh?”

Cater blinks as your eyes stare at him as if, for a brief moment, you could look through him. Through the act, the apathy, the very thing that was keeping him at the seams but also making him feel like he would burst from the inside out.

“...what do you mean?”

You keep gazing at him for a couple of seconds before smiling as you hold up the phone.

“I shouldn’t have snuck into Heartslabyul to just get a need met...and you shouldn’t have walked into that poor student’s room without knocking.” you wave the phone around, “Now your precious item is broken.”

The conversation didn’t feel right. It felt as if you were saying something else and all Cater needed to do was read in between the lines.

But he refused to, he didn’t want to go below surface level. Everything would get so much more complicated if you both took that plunge.

Yet he was feeling daring, the smile on your face a clear challenge as he walked over to you and grabbed the edge of his phone.

“Maybe I wanted to break it.”

Silence reigns in the room as you two stare at each other, both of your hands holding onto the edge of his phone and daring the other to let go. He smiles and tugs on his edge, the movement effortlessly pulling you towards him as you snicker when the edge of your foot touches his.

“Cater.” you whisper as your hands slowly let go of the phone.

“Yes?” he whispers back, purposefully leaning over you as he places the phone on his desk.

“Nothing. I just like saying your name.”

Whether he started it or you started it honestly didn’t matter to him, the only thing Cater cared about was pulling you close and pressing his lips against yours so he could stop listening to all of your complicated sentences.

He didn’t understand them, he didn’t understand you.

And yet you seemed to understand him probably better than he understood himself.

Arms are around his neck as you pull him close, Cater slowly walking you back to his bed as the back of your knees hit the comforter which causes both of you to fall down. You pull away to snicker at the action but are brought right back into the kiss by needy lips, Cater whispering your name as he pushed you upwards so that you would be pressed right against the wall--

He groans when you pull away and is surprised to be kissing a pair of fingers instead of your lips, your smile still as elusive as ever as you slowly push his face away.

“I have a lover, senpai.”

Cater rolls his eyes, “I don’t like those kinds of jokes.”

“I’m not joking. It’s late so I’m just going to go over to his room and tell him that you’ll cover for us, okay? Okay. ”

You pinch his nose as you try to push him away but find your wrists grabbed and locked in place, Cater giving you a hard glare as he presses his forehead against yours.

“I said I don’t like those kinds of jokes.” he leans in and gives you another kiss, “You’re not his lover.”

“Who says that?”

“[Y/N]-chan did.” Cater’s lips press against yours again as he makes his way down to the offending hickey the second year had left on you, “The way you talk about him, the way you weren’t even embarrassed at getting caught. You are toying with the heart of one of my second years and I don’t think I can forgive you for that.”

He nips at the bruise before placing his lips on it, teeth gently opening up more blood vessels to form a much darker shade on your skin than what was left there before.

“Is that all you can’t forgive me for?”

Cater smiles against your skin as he takes your wrists and leads your arms to wrap around his neck, pulling you into his lap as he answers your question with a kiss.

His tongue meets yours this time around, both of you giggling at the familiar taste. When was the last time you two had kissed like this? Nevermind that, the question was already too annoying to think about. Instead, Cater moves his hips upwards as he groans into your lips at the wanted friction.

He takes a hold of your hips as he pushes you down to meet him mid-movement, his hips rolling up as yours are pushed down. The movement is sloppy and the action itself feels so unsatisfying but Cater almost feels as if this is the only thing he deserves from you. If either of you enjoyed this it would mean you two went too far--

“Haha...look at your face.”

Green eyes look at you as you cup the man’s face, pressing a gentle kiss on his nose as you start to roll your hips on his, meeting him halfway.

“You probably want to cum inside, right Cater-senpai?”

His hips jump at the mere thought, the idea of you laying on your side as his cum drips down from your sex all the way down your thighs.

“We did it with protection a lot ~We always followed the rules of our agreement…”

Hands dive between you two, Cater’s eyes never leaving yours as he works to get his pants off while his hands try to unbutton yours as well. You smile and meet him halfway again, taking your own bottoms off and tossing them carelessly to the side as you both are left in nothing but your underwear.

“Every time we did it--you always looked like you wanted to do something else--”

Cater takes the chance of you biting your lower lip to go a bit faster, the tip of his cock rubbing against you at a faster speed as he changed position quickly and hooked your knees over his elbows.

“And at first---at first I thought it was just you getting bored…”

He gasps when two of your fingers press right at the tip of his cock, the way he was moving his hips allowing it to rub comfortably against the padding of your fingers as you gently cooed at the precum gathering there.

“But one time I was able to see it. See what you really wanted--!”

His own hand makes his way in between the mess of hips and stuttered movements, his fingers tracing a familiar pattern up and down your sex as he feels you pull him out of his boxers and start to pump in rhythm.

“If...If you cum after me...I’ll let you cum inside...”

It’s starting to get hotter, Cater feels like he can see his own breath fogging up his vision.

“Count it as reward…”

The coil in his stomach is tightening, your hands moving faster as his stutters with the rhythm you were setting.

“For being honest with me at least one time.”

It’s a sticky mess, the white stuff sticking to your belly and his as he rides out his orgasm against your hand and stopping altogether when the feeling gets too much. His fingers work overtime before your back arches and you give into yours as well, your toes curling for a moment before your feet hit the mattress unceremoniously.

He didn’t know where in the world that had come from or what possessed you to talk like that...but that was probably the hardest he had released in the month you two stopped interacting with one another.

Cater looks at the mess once again before moving to clean it up, stopping only when he feels a hand tug at the front of his shirt and a pair of lips meeting his all over again.

“Offer is still on the table, senpai.”

You unbutton the first few buttons of your shirt, smiling as larger hands batted yours away to continue the job.

“Please do your best to hold out longer.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst imagines #twst smut #cater diamond #cater x reader #twst mc #adult section #//rushed and messy...but I bet that is what making out with Cater is like

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ushidoux · 4 years ago

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Not Enough - Oikawa (Haikyuu) x Reader x Gojo (JJK)

Summary: Your relationship with Oikawa feels more like a curse than anything else as it comes to a close. (~4.2k words) or tl;dr gojo is mr. steal your girl

Warnings: breakup, idk Gojo is a warning, cracky angst?, pegging mention, yandere themes

A/N: Ngl I’m patting myself on the back for making a crossover fic work somewhat LOLLLL, you can roll your eyes if you want this is hella melodramatic.

(if you wanna commission more niche things, you can always dm me <3)

---

“I-I think it’s best for us to end things here, Tooru...”

Oikawa’s fingers tightened around the cell phone in his hand at the sound of your shakily delivered proposition, and further at the abrupt pregnant pause thereafter - not because he was angry, nor afraid, but out of an all-encompassing confusion.

Two things were wrong with this situation. First of all, it was late enough for you, thousands of miles away, that he was genuinely surprised that you were still awake in the first place and the fact that your voice was thick with tears was particularly upsetting, implying that you’d been up all night before you decided to call. Second, you had to be feeling unwell because you were talking pure nonsense.

He must have not heard correctly. You wanted to ‘end things’?

End what? You and him? That couldn’t possibly happen.

Moments passed, maybe even a full minute, and Oikawa stood perfectly still in spite of the uncomfortable combination of a weightless sensation in his legs and a feverish pounding in his chest as he tried to let himself understand what you were saying. Suddenly lightheaded, he realized he had been holding his breath while you remained quiet on the other end of the line. Maybe he was hoping for you to fill the silence, but he knew you wouldn’t offer anything additional; he could tell from the single soft sniffle that betrayed your sadness.

He sucked air into his lungs.

“I... don’t know what you mean,” Oikawa replied, his voice steady even if his body wasn’t.

You continued.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore. It’s really hard… and I get so lonely, and I know it’s wrong, but sometimes it hurts to see you so happy without me…”

Your voice was smaller still, enough that he strained to hear you past the rush of blood past his temples. For a moment, he considered pretending he couldn’t hear you say such unpleasant things just so that he wouldn’t have to deal with the reality unfolding in front of him in this disdainfully sunny early afternoon, while he stood in the middle of the hallway right outside of his high rise apartment.

The fact that you had finally given up on him after all this time.

In a small way, Oikawa couldn’t blame you. While he had been gone chasing his dream, the emerging star had just as quickly been running further away from you day by day. He knew this was mostly his fault: he called you less frequently and whenever you did talk, the conversations were shorter and less substantial until you and he both felt like your interactions were a simple chore, a checkbox on his never-ending to-do list.

But yet, he could and would absolutely blame you. Long distance was hard but you had promised you’d stay by his side, hadn’t you? You’d promised him, rain or shine, through drought and storm. What could possibly be the issue now?

Even if you hurt, it would only be temporary, and he could always make up for it in full or even twice-fold. In fact, he was on his way to come see you in person this very second; it would just be mere hours before his flight would depart. Coming suddenly on holiday like this was meant to be a surprise, and his suitcase beside him was filled with gifts and souvenirs for you that would, at least partially, assuage your hurt.

At least he thought. Maybe the issue stemmed deeper, starting with the very fact that you weren’t such a fan of gifts - what you really craved was loyalty and quality time - and that too, he had chosen to ignore. Because it was easier to love you the way he wanted to love you, rather than the way you wanted to be loved.

You were often indecisive anyway. Did you ever truly know what you wanted?

“___, stop being silly. I love you -”, he paused at this last declaration for emphasis, gauging your reaction, of which you gave him none, then continued, “-and I’m coming to see you before the sun sets tomorrow,” he insisted, a stern edge in his voice to further supplant the denial that was keeping him able to breathe. Strength returning to his limbs, he resumed his path to the elevators, dragging his belongings behind him.

You were silly. You missed him and you were delirious from loneliness and sleep, and that’s why ridiculous things were coming out of your mouth, that’s all it had to be, he figured. End things? What you had was something precious and irreplaceable. Nothing could be better than what you were together.

It would be you and him for life, at least to him.

Unfortunately for you, that ideal had long since perished.

Any other time, you would have paused, your breath hitching in your throat, your heart pounding as you conjured up the image of your Tooru coming to be in your arms once more, to cross the vast distance and be yours again as it should be. He’d be quick to show you that he chose you over crowded gyms full of adoring spectators, a perfect set, the rush of victory, or a pretty Instagram model.

Any other time before, but time had run out with both you and him unsuspecting, in a flash of clear blue eyes.

---

A few months earlier...

“I’m not interested.”

Your voice was flat and so was your expression. Muttering a soft ‘excuse me’, you walked past the tall young man who had taken the fact that he’d helped you reach an item on the highest shelf (despite the fact that you were still somewhat tall, you still had struggled), as an invitation to follow you around the grocery store.

The stranger had started off indiscreetly at first, and you had to admit, when you’d passed him in the aisle, you had given him a double-take, and it wasn’t just because you were wondering how he could see the food before him with a black blindfold wrapped over his eyes, so you hadn’t thought too much of it. He was admittedly handsome - at least the lower part of his face was - and his relaxed voice and posture as he reached over and handed you your box of cereal reminded you just a smidge of your Tooru.

Your Tooru wouldn’t be caught in that nondescript dark ensemble, though.

Saying “thanks” and continuing on your merry way should have been enough. But instead, this same man had immediately started walking besides you as you pushed your cart as though he knew you, making comments about your groceries.

“I’m not particularly fond of eggs, but they’re a good source of protein.”

“You seem to have a sweet tooth, just like me!”

You probably should have been concerned about this man’s mental state, but he didn’t exactly seem harmful or delusional, just weird. But you were almost done with your shopping trip, and now he was in line with you with a single bag of chips in his hand, and it occurred to you for a while that this stranger might try to follow you home.

“Do you need something, sir?” You told him in exasperation.

He furrowed his eyebrows in mild confusion, still a smidge too close behind you and raised his bag of chips. “No, I’m fine.”

“Why are you following me?” You finally said, bolder than usual in this semi-crowded grocery store. You had had enough of being polite and you’d tried very hard so far. Today had been a long day and you just wanted to cook a meal and sleep, not argue with strangers.

“Oh, I was trying to be friendly,” he replied, shrugging, as though that were normal behavior, and thus here you were, switching lanes abruptly while making it clear to him that he needed to leave you the fuck alone.

Checking out of the store with your items occurred without incident but you had to admit you were both irritated and confused about that encounter, and again, while you didn’t exactly feel malicious intent or really any sort of ‘creepiness’ from the young man, the behavior was nevertheless alarming. You surreptitiously glanced over your shoulder just to make sure he wasn’t still in sight, only to catch him walking in the other direction, whistling again with the single bag of chips in his hand, now paid for.

Again stunned, you found yourself lost in a stare for a moment, a million questions in your head.

What was he trying to accomplish? And most importantly, how could he see with that blindfold?

What did he look like without it?

Quickly realizing your questions were getting absurd, you decided that whether he was attractive or not was a completely inconsequential thought, because the fact of the matter was that he had to be clinically insane. Absolutely.

With that thought in mind, you texted a friend briefly sparing the least salient details.

Call me in about thirty minutes if I don’t call you first. I’ll fill you in later.

Just for safety’s sake, but thankfully, you didn’t think you’d ever seen him again.

You may have brought up your odd encounter to Tooru that night, if he had managed to return your call.

---

“Go to sleep, I’ll talk to you when I land tomorrow. I love you, ____.”

Before you could protest, the line cut off abruptly and you lowered your phone to your lap. Now it was no longer just your voice wavering, but your entire body trembling as you sat over the side of your bed. You lurched forward, the pit of your stomach heavy with guilt.

Your Tooru was coming to see you and for once, he was the last person you wanted to see.

---

You had left your home a little later than usual but given that you would rather die than miss your morning coffee and croissant, you still stopped by your neighborhood bakery.

Noting that the line was a little longer than expected, you queued up, humming softly to the beats of your favorite song, not registering that the man standing before you had turned slowly in your direction and was now smiling down at you.

“Fancy seeing you here again.”

Your eyes furrowed as you looked up, then almost yelped in surprise when your eyes registered the same white-haired stranger who had stunned you at the supermarket lined up just two paces before you.

What the-

Of all the coffee shops in this city, why here? The hairs on your neck stood up on end, worse when he decided to keep speaking.

“Let me buy your coffee,” he proposed, tentatively. “Only condition is that you have to drink it with me.”

Today, the strangest of strangers almost looked normal; rather than a blindfold, his eyes were hidden by a dark pair of sunglasses and his hair had been allowed to fall into a slightly windswept cut. He was also dressed less eclectically, in a loose-necked long sleeved shirt and a pair of fitted dark jeans.

Like this, you could call him fashionable. He was definitely forward, at the very least.

He was obviously flirting and normally you would have a curt prepared answer for him, but the manner in which he leaned forward, smirking with hands on his hips, again felt too familiar. Like Tooru, who had forgotten to call you back and instead sent you a quick text that promised he’d get back to you.

If he remembered.

Before you knew it, and almost embarrassed as soon as it left your mouth, you blurted out, “I… have to go to work.”

It wasn’t a lie but for some reason it came out like one. Perhaps because what you would have normally said was, “I have a boyfriend,” without giving him a second look.

He frowned nevertheless.

“That’s too bad,” he finally said, letting out a loud sigh, excessively dramatic for the situation. You stared at him, dumbfounded, and he suddenly clasped his hands together, preparing to say something else but the barista had called for the next customer.

He made a motion for you to go before him, and flustered, you obliged, giving the barista a look that implored for help in any way he could offer it. The barista knew you well enough to ring up your order before you even asked for it, but not well enough to sense that the man behind you was actively harassing you.

“I can buy my own coffee, sir,” you murmured once you saw him rummage in his pockets and pull out his wallet while the barista went off to toast your pastry.

He grinned widely.

“Call me Satoru.”

---

“A drink for you, sir?”

The flight attendant’s voice betrayed a hint of irritation under her sweet tone of voice, hinting that she had been waiting for him to answer a while, and Oikawa realized that he had been staring at his phone for a lot longer than he expected. He flashed her his classic pearly whites before nodding, but the wheels in his head were still turning.

A mere couple of hours into the first leg of his flight back to Japan, he had taken to poring over his last few conversations with you.

Conversations that, at least from his end, had become pressured, short, and at times, he had been downright dismissive.

But he loved you - you had to understand that! It was a lot to manage: being available for you but also giving 150% of himself to the game.

So what if he missed your calls but kept his Instagram up-to-date? So what if he was a little bit too cozy with his fans (and known to be so)?

There was always you, and you were supreme. He’d do anything for you.

“Wine?” The attendant offered him the higher octave in her voice making it clear that Oikawa had managed to charm her back into her retail persona.

Maybe a glass, but he’d limit his drinking. He wouldn’t want to disappoint you when you met.

---

You were shocked.

Satoru stopped a car that was meant to crush you, and you were still trying desperately to comprehend what had just transpired.

You were possibly too eager to escape that coffee shop, to get away from the young man whose presence both unsettled your stomach and made your face grown warm, that you’d hurried out into the crosswalk, somewhat complicated drink and slightly crisped pastry in hand, and right into the path of a car hurtling through a red light.

You didn’t have time to scream or rarely even time to drop your drink, but the impact of your carelessness and preoccupation, between him, being late to work, wondering why the fuck your boyfriend had yet again forgotten to text back, never came.

Instead, the car seemed to halt to a stop almost immediately before you, before him who now stood before you with lips held into a neutral expression, and one hand in his pocket. Even if time seemed to stop for a split second, the force that should have struck your body didn’t, instead hurtling around you in a terrifying gust of wind.

But you were safe.

There was a shatter of glass windows as energy redistributed and the car took the brunt of the shock, and airbags deployed, engulfing the driver who could have possibly ended your life.

When Satoru finally turned to you slowly, looking at your cowering form, you finally caught a glimpse of piercing blue. For once he wasn’t smiling, and he was suddenly much more terrifying than anything else.

As though the mask had come off.

He didn’t ask if you were okay. Instead, he asked you to control your grief.

---

You shouldn’t be able to love anyone so much that your heart breaks repeatedly.

Something about you had to be pathological - it couldn’t be normal to feel the pain of separation this acutely. It was just a long-distance relationship, even if he was just getting more famous and less available by the day.

You shouldn’t wake up wondering if you could still breathe without him.

You shouldn’t.

---

“I’m a sorcerer,” Gojo revealed as he stirred a warm caramel latte, as though he had said the most natural thing in the world.

You tilted your head over so slightly, knit eyebrows betraying your confusion.

“... Like a circus performer?”

The repetitive turn of his wrist halted almost immediately and he looked at you, the constant smug smirk immediately awash from his features.

“Do I look like I belong in the circus?!” He half-exclaimed, half-whined, as though you were the only patrons in this bustling coffee shop. Part of you was bent on saying yes, but you kept mum yet staring at his face in distress, you find yourself stifling a giggle.

Now that he’d saved your life, you felt (and probably erroneously so) obligated to at least indulge him in coffee, and your curiosity about the young man sitting before you a whole day later now waffled between morbid and genuine.

Cursed energy? Leaking from you? Sorcery?

He cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair once he realized you were more entertained by his distress than anything else, crossing his arms and raising his legs on the table. You stared at the bottom of his shoes with mild disgust but instead focused on his face.

He really was like your Tooru, the boyfriend that slipped away from your reach in your nightmares, causing you to wake in a cold sweat. You shook the thought of your head, a quick barely perceptible movement, and crossed your own arms.

“You’re sad enough that I can sense it, which despite the fact that I am obviously quite gifted, can be a bit of an issue long term.”

“Why would it be an issue to you?”

“Because grief creates spirits and spirits are a pain in my ass.”

You furrowed your eyebrows again.

“So you followed me because you thought I was sad?” It sounded far fetched enough but absolutely on brand for a weirdo like the man before you. You took a sip of your tea - you’d picked chai for this… meeting. It wasn’t a date.

He grinned, an elbow rested on the table propping up his chin as he leaned back towards you.

“No, it’s because I thought you were beautiful.” ---

For the first time in a year, Oikawa’s first step back on Japanese soil did not immediately bring him joy but anxiety.

It was odd for him to feel anxiety, this unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach, but of course it would dissipate the moment he saw you.

But first, a warm shower in his new hotel room. Then he’d go to see you.

It felt odd not to have you waiting for him, your million dollar - no, priceless - smile on your face, so he could kiss you dramatically in the midst of all watching to again reassert that you are his, and his alone.

But you were upset, and understandably so.

So he would come to you, as a good boyfriend should.

---

“I have a boyfriend,” you told him immediately and indignantly, as you got up to leave. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you I’m not interested.”

He didn’t rise as fast as you did, watching you calmly instead as you balled your fists in irritation. It’s so shameless how he flirts, you thought. He’s so bold and rude and even if he’s a ‘sorcerer’ as he claims, there’s no spell that he can cast onto you that will make you leave Oikawa for him.

Not your Tooru, whose last Instagram post features a beautiful, tan, large-breasted and bikini-clad woman you’ve never met.

“Where is he then?” Satoru said in a low voice. He didn’t necessarily mean to cut but it did anyway. A lump formed in your throat.

“Overseas.”

---

The sound of chirping crickets is surprisingly loud for this part of the city, Oikawa considered, as he made his way towards your apartment building. It was an atypically warm evening for this point in the spring and he briefly mused if that is what excited them. Maybe they were cheering for him. They sounded a lot like the crowds if he closed his eyes.

He also hoped you had room for the gifts he carried with him, the most important of which was a Cartier bracelet he would hand to you once he departed, with a solid gold T for Tooru.

If he was on the search for fame and glory, he had to spoil you too, right?

To think that you were so angry with him that you had not yet contacted him since he had landed.

He knocked on your door finally, noting the shuffling of too many feet towards the door. This was the right door. He didn’t understand. Did you have friends over?

He called, and you didn’t immediately pick up.

---

“You have to leave!” You hissed. The statement was a plea and it was a command and it was a curse.

The blue of Satoru’s eyes was less electric in the dim moonlight, now more of a cool ice. Bare naked like this and barely visible save for the cracks of the illuminated city through your blinds, he was unfairly beautiful, as though he were carved out of marble. Again like your Tooru. Like, not better.

But still, he was there when Tooru wasn’t.

But Tooru was there now, knocking on your door, having traveled thousands of miles despite the fact that you had broken up with him just yesterday.

It was too little, too late.

But you didn’t love Satoru. He was just a band-aid for the loneliness that wrung agony out of you.

Right?

“I don’t want to leave,” your makeshift lover replied, flatly.

Your glare was sharp and instant, but Satoru matched your look, less pointed but unwilling to sway.

An unstoppable force, no different from the day he’d saved your life.

But he’d caused the problem in the first place, hadn’t he? Would you have run out so carelessly if not for him?

Your voice softened as you slipped on your clothes. The fight was lost before it started.

“Please? I… I can’t do this to him.”

Only a plea was left.

Your phone started to ring and your throat felt as though it would close up.

“___?”

Before you knew it, you heard your front door open and your heart dropped into your throat.

---

“What the fuck-”

Blue eyes were cruel.

Oikawa prided himself on his height but Satoru was taller, and his smirk was wide, while Oikawa’s face was ghostlike, devoid of any appreciable expression. Stunned.

“So you’re the boyfriend?” His voice dripped with mock amusement and he patted him on the shoulder before swinging open the door wide, letting Oikawa into his own girlfriend’s apartment, only to stand face to face with you whose feet seemed glued to the floor in shock.

“I.. T-Tooru..”

“Are you fucking serious?!”

His voice came out as a cry and his tears hot and fast. You never thought you’d see him crumple so fast, for you, for anything.

Your mouth opened and closed, and your hands shook but again, you stayed planted to the same spot while Satoru, still shirtless (but at least with the decency to have worn a pair of pants before answering the door), settled himself on the couch.

Before you could open your mouth to find a word to defend yourself to your sobbing boyfriend, your visitor let out an exaggerated yelp.

“____, you really showed no mercy on my asshole, did you?” he jeered. Then covering his mouth, he made a gesture of ‘Oops.’

What could you do?

Oikawa looked like he would stop breathing any second. He wanted to fight and maybe scream, but what use was that?

You had broken up with him yesterday.

You approached slowly, attempting maybe a touch, anything that would make your mistake less grievous.

You’d only been seeing Satoru for several weeks to… you weren’t sure why, really? Tooru was the one you loved. And to see him curl up like this… someone who was normally so proud...

You were disgusted with yourself.

“Tooru-”

“You said you’d wait for me.”

It was shocking how quick he rose, broken dignity, gifts and all.

“Tooru!”

He turned to leave, while Satoru contented himself on picking the earwax from his ears. It was easier to be like this, insufferable, than to gracefully accept the idea that his object of affection loved someone else.

He’d coveted you from the day he’d met you.

“Tooru!!!”

You were running after a man who gave 150% to everything, yet again.

Everything but you.

But had he at the very least given you 100%? You weren’t sure.

Oikawa was the last person who could accept the thought of someone else. You weren’t sure if he’d call you ever again. You weren’t even sure you wanted to break up.

Cursed energy. Maybe you didn’t just leak cursed energy. Maybe you were just cursed.

Heart shattering to pieces once Oikawa was no longer within view, you made it back to your room. Satoru was there waiting, and you couldn’t see the look in his eyes, but his arms were open, and so you fell into them.

#oikawa x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #commission work #crossover fic #haikyuu x reader #jjk x reader #haikyuu x jjk #mae.writing

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sunshineandaisies · 4 years ago

Text

Nightmares

Words: ~1.3k

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: language, sexual suggestions, some fluff and angst

You were startled awake by a loud crack of thunder, wind howling through the alleyway outside, and heavy raindrops battering against the window. The forecast hadn’t mentioned a storm, yet here you were, awake and likely unable to fall back asleep because of the noise outside. The time on your phone read 3:23, and you knew that it would be hours yet before you needed to prepare for another long day of classes.

You rubbed your eyes and stretched your tired limbs before peeling your blanket away from your body and swinging your legs over the edge of your bed. You stumbled groggily to the kitchen for a glass of water, and after ensuring that the door to your parents’ bedroom was closed, you put a bag of popcorn into the microwave and leaned against the counter, scrolling through social media on your phone as you waited for the popcorn to be done.

A few minutes later, with a bowl of popcorn in hand, you were padding back to your room and closing the door softly behind you. You had planned to just lay in bed and watch a movie on your laptop to pass the time until you officially needed to be out of bed and starting your morning routine before school, but the flashing battery symbol at the bottom of your laptop’s screen put a temporary halt to those plans while you scrambled to find the charging cable.

It was nowhere to be found in your bedroom – not on your desk, not under you bed, not even hidden behind your backpack and the stack of textbooks that you hadn’t even touched the night before. You groaned loudly before retracing your steps from the last time you remembered having the cable, and after nearly ten minutes of searching various places around your apartment, you finally found it wedged between the cushions on the couch.

It would have taken mere seconds to plug the cable in and to resume your intended movie night – morning? – if it hadn’t been for the lightning outside lighting up a silhouette on your fire escape as the person opened your window and began to crawl through it.

You felt your heart pounding rapidly in your chest, a sense of panic bubbling to the surface and a scream of terror at the back of your throat, but that all quickly disappeared once you realized who it was.

“Fucking hell, Peter!” you hissed, trying to keep your voice low enough to not wake your parents. Your wide eyes took in his appearance – his hair and clothes soaked from the rain, his eyes bloodshot and rimmed with red, his cheeks drained of all color. “You scared the hell out of me! Hurry up and get in here. You’re gonna get sick.”

“Can’t sleep,” he answered your unspoken question of why he was even at your apartment rather than his own three blocks over before climbing the rest of the way through your window. “I just- I can’t-”

You nodded in understanding as he struggled to get the words out. “Nightmares again?” you asked, knowing that more often than not, since you and him and the rest of your friends were returned after the Blip, Peter had dreamt of space, of Tony Stark, of Thanos, of everything that had been lost in the aftermath.

His only response was to avert his eyes, as if he were ashamed of the truth of the matter. You bit your lip, your heart aching for him. Wordlessly, you dug through the drawers of your dresser, pulling out a large t-shirt that you had stolen from Peter months ago and old sweatpants that you were pretty sure belonged to your dad at one point in time. “Here. Go change while I get a movie ready for us.”

Peter sent you the barest of smiles and took the clothes from your hand. “Star Wars?” he asked, sounding hopeful.

“Nope,” you responded. The corners of your lips curled up into a wide smile. “Harry Potter. You crashing my early morning movie is fine, but we’re at least gonna watch what I wanna watch.” You watched him closely as he nodded before disappearing into your bathroom to change, and by the time you had the movie queued up and ready to play, he reappeared and crawled into bed beside you.

Your heart was racing as you pressed yourself closer to him during the opening scene of the movie, your arms winding around his middle and your ear pressed against his chest. The sound of his heart beating sent a wave of calm washing over your entire body, and the feel of his hand resting on the exposed skin of your lower back made your body buzz pleasantly with warmth.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” you finally asked after you felt him relax completely. “I understand if you don’t. I just don’t like when- I hate seeing-” You trailed off, tilting your head slightly to look up at him only to find him already staring down at you with chocolate eyes. You lifted a hand to cup his cheek tenderly, and he sighed at the touch. “I’m worried about you, Pete. You hardly sleep anymore.”

“I sleep when I’m with you,” he answered before turning his head slightly to press a light kiss to the palm of your hand. “I- I don’t have nightmares when I’m with you, Y/N.”

You couldn’t control the curl of your lips after hearing his words. “I keep your nightmares away?” He had never said anything of the sort before, so this was all new to you. It would explain why he’d made a habit of appearing at your window at the end of his patrol two or three times a week, why he’d made a habit of crawling into bed with you when you nodded sleepily and scooted to the side to give him enough room beneath the blanket beside you.

“Yeah,” he whispered the admission. “It’s like you help- you help remind me of the good, and the good overwhelms the bad for a little while.”

You rolled away from him slightly, resting your head on the pillow beside his. He rolled onto his side, your noses only inches apart. “I’m happy I can help, Peter.” Your hand found his beneath the blanket and you squeezed gently. “I’d let you sleep here every night, but I think May and my parents might not be as willing to let that happen.”

He scoffed. “It’s not like we- we don’t do- we haven’t done that.”

“Sex?” you questioned teasingly, laughing as he blushed brightly. You pressed a quick peck to his lips and added, “Not yet anyway.”

His eyes widened and the blush across his cheeks only spread further, creeping down his neck and up to his ears. “Y/N, we- did you- what?”

“You heard me, Spider-Boy.” You pressed another kiss to his lips, lingering longer with the promise of more before pulling away and smiling at him. “Someday. But for now, you look like you haven’t slept in over twenty-four hours.”

“Try forty-eight,” he muttered, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Get some sleep, Pete. I’ll keep the nightmares away.”

A couple hours later, as the credits of the movie played on your laptop, your mom found you curled beneath the covers with Peter, your head rested on his chest and his arms wrapped around your waist. She let it go that time, quietly closing the door as she left the room to ensure that your dad didn’t find you in bed with a boy, but you’d most certainly be getting a talk about the birds and the bees in the very near future.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x fem!reader #spider-man x reader #spider-man x you #spider-man x y/n #spider-man fanfiction #spider-man reader insert #peter parker reader insert #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #spider-man fluff #spider-man angst #marvel reader insert #marvel fanfiction

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i-dont-want-your-hysteria · 4 years ago

Text

The Hangover (Def Leppard x Reader)

(Happy birthday to my blog!! To celebrate 3 years of the place where I concentrate my insane Leppard obsession, I thought I’d celebrate by posting the FIRST Def Leppard fanfic I EVER wrote ((which I have NEVER posted anywhere before!)) I began writing this exactly 3 years ago today- the day I made this blog ((February 19th, 2018))- and officially finished it about a year later. This is not intended as a romantic/sexual fic, it’s simply just an x reader in which the reader is basically one of the guys. In other words, it’s on crack.)

((I am aware this is kind of cringe-worthy at times... but I still like a lot of things about it. While I revised it very slightly before queuing it, I was still 16 when I started writing this, okay... gimme a break...))

(Illustration by @paper-sxn)

Words: 8,684 Prompt: Dublin, 1984. You’re with the Leppards in their early pre-Hysteria era house. You all wake up with hangovers after a boozed-up night at home, and you each try to put the pieces of the previous night back together. Meanwhile, you’re praying that one particular piece won’t fit in anywhere... (partially inspired by the “Blitzgiving” and “The Pineapple Incident” episodes of How I Met Your Mother)

-----

Gently piercing white light made its way through the windows of the bedroom. It hit your eyelids, and it hit your brain, igniting a brief but killer headache. As your eyes clasped together more, you turned your face into the gloriously soft pillow. For a second you asked yourself why you would have a headache so early in the morning, but then…

You laughed quietly into the bed, recalling without warning some vague happenings from the night before. There wasn’t much you remembered, but you clearly saw the image of the guys flat out drunk at some point (you along with them). There were some blips of you all singing together, Sav hanging from a door frame, you chugging some scotch, Joe chugging some vodka, Steve’s hair being in pigtails, and you think Phil might’ve been giving you a lap dance... or vice versa. It was, all in all, hysterical (at least- that’s what you wanted to think).

Other than those faint events, unfortunately, the night was gone. Still, you were thrilled that it happened. Crazy times with your boys were always good.

You rubbed your eyes, ready for more sleep to combat the pounding in your head. When you did, they opened a little, and you realized… this wasn't your room you were in. Squinting around, you noticed that you were sleeping in Phil’s room instead of yours.

Oh, it’s not that much of a problem, you mused, I’m sure he doesn’t mind. I’ve woken up to worse in this place.

You let your eyes close again easily, and you found peace as you began to fall under again. That is, until you felt someone move next to you.

When it happened, you became aware of the warmth coming from someone else in the bed. They only shifted in their sleep a little bit before going still again. Your eyes went wide, and you held your breath. You don’t remember getting into bed with someone (in fact, you don’t remember getting into bed at all). Turning your head, you looked to see what sort of stranger was in bed with you currently. Instead of a stranger, scraggly blonde hair over a kind and shy face met your sight, and you were instantly calmed upon realizing that it was just Steve. That was good, that was good, but why were you and Steve sleeping in Phil’s bed? You were sure you didn’t have sex last night- at least, not with Steve. This tiny moment of appeasement and confusion was cut short by the faint sound of guitar chords coming from downstairs. The music echoed to your ears, signaling that it had to be Phil, and that he was playing the opening to Bringin On the Heartbreak. Cautiously taking the covers off you- not wanting to wake Steve- you felt obliged to go to the other guitarist. When you stood up and began walking, you nearly fell forward from the sudden vertigo of your hangover. You had to hold onto the counter of Phil’s dresser for extra support, and that’s when your reflection in his mirror caught your eye. Not only that, but that’s when your outfit also caught your eye. One of the guys’ Union Jack tank tops had been slipped over you somehow, and two hand prints were on either side of your face in dried paint; one was blue, one was green. "What…?“ you whispered, touching your face and feeling the shirt on you. It seemed to fit you alright, which made you wonder whose it really was. You were also in black underwear, and nothing else. While eyeing yourself, you took notice of Steve in the reflection. You now saw a few big red lipstick stains on his face, untouched and unsmudged. It was pretty cute, you had to admit, but another thing that came to your attention was that it wasn’t you who was wearing the lipstick at the moment. So then who kissed Steve all over his face? You treaded carefully down the hallway, putting one foot in front of the other and dragging a hand on the wall for support. The melody of the distant guitar didn’t cease the whole time you trekked through the house to get to Phil. When the chords of the song dragged on to the part where the vocals should have begun, no vocals came. Everything in the house looked remarkably the same (despite everything you remember from last night). There were large, ripped pieces of cardboard in the middle of the hallway; scattered out as if leaving a trail. Alongside that, there was a piece of paper labeled “pay 2 the orerr of Rick: one fuckin bendee straw” in what may have been Sav’s handwriting on top of the stairs, and blue paint smudged on the railing going downwards (guaranteeing that whoever did that eventually got to your face, too).

Step by step you descended as the scenery of the house teetered around you (a little too reminiscent of Me & My Wine, you would add). When you reached the bottom of the stairs and looked into the living room, sure enough, Phil was there, strumming away.

“But it’s easy come and easy go…” he hummed.

“You’re…” you mumbled, burped a little, and continued, “Awake. How?” He stopped playing and crossed his arms, quietly sassing you, “Ah, she rises again. You regrettin’ anything yet?” You blinked and rubbed your eyes, scratching a little bit of paint off of your face and inquiring in a scratchy, tired tone, “I guess so… but- how? You, how?” Phil took off his guitar and stood up with his hands in his pockets, “Because I barely drank at all last night, and I also sure as hell didn’t shag Steve in someone else’s bed!” “How do you mean- I didn’t- wait- and Steve- what?” you rubbed your head, getting dizzy, causing Phil to guide you to the couch. “I didn’t- I didn’t shag Steve last night,” you insisted. “Mm hmm,” the guitarist hummed disapprovingly, “Alright.” “What the hell are you on about?” Phil smirked evilly and laughed, “He carried you upstairs, we heard the door close, and then some rather happy noises were heard, so we all just assumed-!” “That’s not-” you swallowed and lay your head back on the couch, “-a valid assumption.” “Oh, you poor thing,” came the sarcastic remark, “You really don’t remember, do you?” “Well I figured if I ever fucked any one of you I would- you know- remember it!” you raised your voice at him, then rubbed your temples. “I’m touched, really. But I’ll fill you in a bit,” Phil yanked up his guitar he’d put down, placed himself next to you, and played the into to “Ballroom Blitz”. Then a bit of the night came back to you. “Oh... that’s what started it all, didn’t it?”

~The night before~ Rick began banging out a tune on his drum kit in the house with you, Sav, and Steve sitting close by, them being at the ready with their guitars. “You ready, Steve?” you mimicked the original lyrics. “Uh-huh,” he replied exactly like Steve Priest in the original song. “Savy?” you said next. “Yeah,” Sav bopped his head to the beat. “Rick?” “Okay.” “Alright, fellas,” you called out, “Let’s go!” The two guitarists let their instruments ring out around the house, playing the all-too-familar tune. As soon as they started this, the front door opened, and none other than Phil and Joe walked in. Joe was holding a bag that was weighed down by the mass inside it (a painfully obvious sign that there were a few bottles of booze). Although the two of them weren’t talking, they were physically hushed upon hearing the situation you and the others had created. “Oh life’s been getting so hard, living with the things you do to me…” you sang lowly and quietly along with the music being made, just to make sure the musicians knew their places. You noticed Phil run out of the room in excitement, and into the one where he keeps his guitars. Joe, on the other hand, stayed put and watched the rest of you from afar, fighting a smile. “My dreams are getting so strange, I’d like to tell you everything I see…” You stood up, and Joe began walking towards you when you called out the next line of the song, “Oh- I see a man in the back, as a matter of fact, his eyes are as red as a sun!” Joe chimed in without warning at the next line, putting an arm on your shoulder and pointing at you, “And the girl in the corner, let no one ignore her, ‘cos she thinks she’s the passionate one!” *** “It’s, it’s a ballroom blitz, it's, it's a ballroom blitz,” Phil sang the ending teasingly to you when he put his guitar back. It felt like he was rubbing his energy in your face (since you lacked it). Before Phil could continue, Joe suddenly appeared in the doorway. “Yeah! It’s a ballroom blitz!” he announced, throwing his arms into the air and taking a bow. He sounded a bit tipsy still. Joe was wearing his Union Jack shorts, but no shirt. Instead of a shirt, though, he had the words “PROPERTY OF DEF LEPPARD” sloppily painted across his chest in blue and green paint. Right over his nipples there were also two handprints, almost exactly matching the ones on your face. Joe stumbled in the doorway, falling to his knees and groaning in discomfort, “Ohh... probably should’ve stayed in bed.” Phil sluggishly trekked over to the singer and pulled him partially to his feet, yanking him towards the couch, “Oh yeah? And by ‘bed’, you mean-?” “Definitely not the bathtub.” Joe assured him, but winked at you. “No matter where you slept, it’s still not as bad as where she slept,” Phil pointed at you, “And what she did there.” “Why? What’d you do?” Joe’s tipsiness wore away in his sentence, making him sound genuinely concerned and curious. You rolled your eyes, knowing exactly what Phil was going to say, “Phil, I-” “It’s not what she did, it’s who she did- she shagged Steve in my bed!” the guitarist accused you again while pointing a finger. Immediately Joe exclaimed, “Nice!” and held up a hand to high-five you. “Joe!” you scolded him, surprised that he took this as good news. “Oh-uh, not… nice?” he took away the offer of a high-five and scratched the back of his head awkwardly instead, “Also, is that my shirt?” You took a look down at the Union Jack tank top you were wearing and back at Joe’s torso. Then something clicked in your head. “Ohh…” you continued staring at Joe’s chest, feeling yourself blush as old memories unraveled in your head, “I think... I think I remember something else that happened last night.” *** You were all drunk; it was no lie. After your quick jam session, there was a booze-filled music fest going on in the house. Joe had even put on his Union Jack outfit, pretending he was getting ready for a show. At one particular point of this “festival” you'd all created, records were being played, and you ended up dancing in front of Joe to REO Speedwagon’s “Take It On the Run”. “You’re bringing up your white lines, you’re pullin’ on a bedroom eyes, you say you’re going home, but I won’t say when,” you sang the wrong lyrics as you swayed and drunkingly made flirty faces at Joe on the couch. Sav, meanwhile, was playing with some old craft paint off in the corner. The blue and green substances were all over his hands (but somehow, one color managed to stay on each hand). “Yeah, you dance for him, Y/N!” Rick cheered you on from the kitchen as Steve and Phil sat on the couch. Phil was perfectly sober, and Steve was giggling and laying with his head on Phil’s lap. You, on the other hand, were now moving closer to the singer, almost like you were giving him a lap dance. “You take it on the run, baby,” you sang along, slowly taking Joe’s Union Jack tank top off of him (with no objections from below), “If that’s the way you wanna, baby...” In return to Joe being shirtless, you slowly took off your own shirt (triggering wolf-whistles and cheers from the guys) to replace it with Joe’s tank. “Sav, mark him up!” you ordered the painted bassist in the corner as you tried to dress yourself. He happily made his way over to you and questioned, “What should I mark him with?” A single hazy idea came to you, and you eagerly whispered it into Sav’s ear. He giggled in response, and proceeded to move over to Joe, drawing something on his chest in the paint. To keep Joe from looking at what it was, you went behind the chair and covered his eyes, ordering coyly, “No peeking!” “All done!” Sav announced and retreated back to whatever he was doing in the corner. “Now, wait, Sav!” you sped over to him, lifted his hands up, and double high-fived him, getting the paint on your hands as well. To finish off what Sav had started, you ran back over to Joe on the chair, and slapped your hands on his chest, right over his nipples. Laughter erupted from everyone in the room (including Joe) and you repeated Sav’s words. “All done!” Joe gazed down at the words “PROPERTY OF DEF LEPPARD” on his chest as you continued to dance to the song playing. “You’re mine, now! You take it on the run, baby... if that’s the way you want it, baby...” Joe tried to tell you in a sexy voice, “Am I your baby now?” “If that’s the way you want it baby,” you repeated the words from the song to him, “Now I’m done dancing for you! Somebody dance for me!” Steve began pointing at everyone individually, childishly suggesting, “It should be, eenie, meenie, miney, Phil!” “Why me?” Phil laughed in objection as you took a seat across the room. “Because you’re not wasted,” his terror twin argued, poking him on the nose. The sober guitarist looked over at you with happy anticipation, awaiting a comment, while all you did was wiggle your fingers at him with a goofy grin. After that, you returned the gesture to the man on his lap, giving Steve a sexy wink. *** “Oh my god...” you put your head in your hands shamefully as Phil and Joe giggled at the memory of the previous night, “I can’t believe I did all that...” “That was a treat!” Phil laughed, hugging you from the side and pulling you closer to him in consolation, “It was funny! We never get to see that side of you!” “There’s a certain reason why you don’t...” you moaned with embarrassment, then asked out of guilty curiosity, “How many times did I grab your ass during that lap dance...?" Phil thought for a bit before telling you, “Four. Well- four and a half...” You gave a loud groan of protest as Joe laughed and slumped back into the couch. “Oh, you only did those things because you weren’t thinking!” Phil consoled you, swayed back and forth with you in his arms. Joe chimed in, “Yeah, and see what happens when you don’t think? You do! Most importantly, you do Steve!” “I didn't do Steve!” you shot your head up and yelled at Joe. You received only laughs and snorts from both men in reply. Suddenly, Sav appeared on the staircase and began singing “Squeeze Box” by The Who with a tired yet cheeky smirk, “Mama’s got a squeeze box she wears on her chest, and when Stephen comes home, he never gets no rest-” Joe and Phil joined into his song with, “Cos' she’s playin’ all night, and the music’s alright! Mama’s got a squeeze box, Stephen never sleeps at night!” You just put your head back in your hands, trying not to accept your fate of being teased. You didn’t want to think that you possibly shagged Steve. He always seemed so innocent to you in a way, and you feared that this would kill your friendship. If everything the boys said was true, you would never hear the end of it, and you don’t even know what Steve would think of you from now on. Was it possible that he remembered anything about the night before? “It didn’t happen, it didn’t happen...” you repeated to yourself in a whisper as Phil unwrapped his arms from you. Sav came all the way down the stairs; his body language making him look grumpy with the world, but his tired grin signaling that he was pleased with seeing you. “Oh, it happened, sunshine!” the frizzy-haired bassist laughed, but quickly regretted it and rubbed his head with his still-painted hands, “Ah- yep, it happened. You could probably hear you two up the whole damn street.” As Sav wearily joined you all on the couch, Joe complained, “Sounds like that was a treat; I wish I remembered it!” Phil was caught off guard at the comment. His head turned to Joe in the blink of an eye and gasped, “Wait, you don’t remember hearing them?!” “I wish I could say I do, but there’s nothing there,” Joe stood up after he spoke, and quickly held onto the wall nearby. His hand went over his stomach as he whined, “Oh... fuck, Y/N, why did you make me race you last night?" “'Race me'?” you squinted as you inquired, “Race you with what?” Joe didn’t answer, but slowly took steps into the kitchen, using the wall as his guide. His answer came when you, Sav, and Phil all heard him throw up into the sink. You sighed, resting your hands over your eyes, trying to remember the cause of Joe’s sickness, “Oh no, was that really my idea?” *** “Look what I found!” you trotted into the room tipsily, holding two bottles; one of scotch, one of vodka, “Only half full! Who wants em?” While you weren’t full-on drunk, it was no secret that the title wasn’t that far away. After your little Ballroom Blitz, it was one beer after the next, then it was digging into the fancy liquors that Phil and Joe had just brought home. Your judgment was impaired, no doubt about it, and so was the judgment of all the guys. Joe even changed into his normal live-show-only Union Jack tank top, claiming that he was gonna "put on a show." The only one who was still sane and sober was Phil, who seemed to be staying away from your poison. Upon registering your sacred offer of alcohol, Rick ran forward, chanting, “Me! Me!” You lifted the bottles away from him, commanding, “Uh-uh! I get the scotch.” “Oh, bollocks, then you can keep the vodka,” the young drummer grumbled and turned away from you. Just as Rick rejected your offering, Joe sprung up and eagerly trotted over while shouting happily, “I’ll take it!” “Sold!” you handed the bottle over to him, “Betcha can’t finish before me!” “Betcha I can!” he sneered back before taking the cap off his bottle. There was no official “ready, set, go” for the race; you both just kind of went for it without any saying. While your throat and stomach were already protesting your actions (and you could almost sense that Joe’s were doing the same), you didn’t stop once; neither of you did. You held up your bottle and announced, “Done!” Looking over, you saw Joe was also finished. “I finished first!” “Nuh-uh!” you insisted, “It had to be me! Tell him, guys!” The four others hadn’t been paying attention to you and Joe’s little competition; they were instead focused on a box that Sav had pulled out from a cupboard. From the box they pulled out bottles of paint and various types of used makeup.

Joe scolded them all in a more sober manner, “Oh come on, you lot weren’t even watching!” “Yeah, yeah, it was probably a tie, anyways,” Rick chuckled, pulling out more items from the box. “This box is much more interesting, too," Phil protested, holding up a stick of lipstick as Sav held up two bottles of paint, "This is a box of makeup that I had for me and the lads in Girl! Just look at it all! Think we can have some fun with this?" "Oh, piss off," you threw the empty bottle onto the couch, "We need some music." Joe had slumped down onto a chair, and you stumbled your way over to the shelf with all the records on it, flipping through and eyeing them all as carefully as your body would let you. After only a few seconds of searching, your eyes lit up at a discovery. "Here's a good one!" you exclaimed as you pulled out a copy of Hi Infidelityby REO Speedwagon, "Let's give it a spin!" ***

Joe wandered back into the room and fell onto the empty couch with a grumble. “Sorry, Joe...” you muttered over to him, realizing that you pressured him into more consumption of the booze. “It was probably gonna happen anyway...” he admitted, wiping his hands over his face, “It’s was my stupid choice to go through with it.” “Woah,” Phil pointed out out of nowhere, looking at you with great surprise, “What’s that on your neck?” You felt your heart drop into your stomach. “What!?” you shot up from where you sat (bringing on more dizziness), and rushed over to a mirror. Once your dizziness subsided, and you could finally see your reflection, the pink shape of a hickey on the side of your neck was now clearly conspicuous. You wondered how you hadn't noticed it before. Joe exclaimed with a smug and proud grin, “Is that from Steve!?” You groaned angrily, feeling yourself become more and more defeated. “I can’t believe it,” you gasped, slapping a hand over the mark, “Something did happen between us-!” “Y/N,” Phil pointed out again, “There’s lipstick on your thigh...” Looking down at your legs, you saw that he was right. There was a single red symbol on your right thigh that marked a kiss from the night before. Upon seeing this, what you saw when you woke up popped into your head. “Looks like Steve went to town down there,” Sav smirked at you, only wanting to rub it in more. “Guys,” you softly noted, “That wasn’t Steve... he has lipstick marks all over his face from someone else...” The three men all exchanged confused looks with each other. There was a dead end to the story of the previous night. None of them knew how to solve the mystery of the lipstick. Not even Phil, who was as good as sober 12 hours ago, didn’t have any input. Sav suddenly blurted out, “Wait a minute, I know what happened- I think...” No one said anything, but eagerly leaned forward, ready to hear the tale the bassist had to tell. “You lot remember how we found that box of old makeup last night?” he began, “Well, I walked into the bathroom with you afterwards, Y/N...” *** Rick looked at himself in the mirror in the bathroom, carefully applying the makeup to his lips, and being extra careful to not get it on the blazer he was wearing. The drummer put on his best suit just to see how it would look with the makeup he was putting on. He thought he was doing a good job for the most part; he didn’t look half bad at all! It was far easier than he expected it to be, and wondered if he was good enough to help you with your makeup at times. Thinking of you seemed to have made you appear in the doorway next to him. Both of your hands were still covered in paint. “Sink,” was all you commanded of the drummer. He moved without a word and you began to wash your hands. At the same instant, Sav appeared nearby. He grabbed the doorframe and began to swing from it, leaving conspicuous handprints afterwards. “Aren’t you gonna wash up, too?” Rick crossed his arms to sass him. “Nah, I want the colors, they’re makin’ me feel- colorful...” Sav grinned, walking over to you at the sink, requesting, “C’mere.” You looked up, only to have your face taken in Sav’s paint-covered hands. He softly giggled as you squared your vision in on him with a sneer. “Rude,” you teased, then went back to washing your hands; paint now all over your face. “What’s really rude,” Rick pulled back the shower curtain and taking a step into the tub, “Is you two interrupting my makeup time! Good night!” He sat himself down in the tub and laid himself down as if he was going to sleep.

Before he had the chance to catch some shut-eye, you marched over to the tub and objected, “Rick, if you’re gonna sleep, I want a goodnight kiss first.” Without another word, Rick sat up and planted a kiss on your thigh (since it was closest to him). There was now a bright red imprint of his lips on your leg. “Thank you.” you smiled down at him, “Now goodnight.” “Don’t leave the water on, you hear?” Sav nagged him, pointing a colored finger, “You’ll drown." Rick chuckled with his eyes closed, “I’ll drink myself out. I'm in a drinkin mood, anyways." “Oh yeah? You haven’t got a straw or anything,” the intoxicated bassist continued to argue with him. “Then don’t let me drown! Get one!" “I’ll get you one later. I’ll just-“ Sav burped, and continued, “I’ll write a note or something.” “Sounds good, mate,” Rick slumped further into the tub and pulled the curtain closed, “Now you gonna stay here all night?” “Actually,” you noted out loud to yourself, different alcoholic emotions boiling up inside you, “I wanna go downstairs- I just need to see Steve- like right now...!" You turned on your heels, speeding past Sav and flying back down the stairs. *** “So that explains the paint on my face, and the paper in the hallway, and the lipstick, but what happened after that?” you asked Sav, as you were now slumped on top of Phil’s arm again. “Beats me,” Sav ran his still-painted hands through his hair, “That’s all I’ve got.” “But wait, if you said that Rick fell asleep in the bathtub...” Phil began his sentence, only for you and the other two men to exchange knowing looks with each other. All four of you immediately sprung up and rushed (as much as you could) up the stairs and into the bathroom. Upon getting there, Phil flung back the shower curtain to reveal a partially awake Rick, dressed in a suit, and still wearing the lipstick from the night before. “Mornin’,” he groaned as he stretched, then winced, “Ah, fuck- sleeping in here wasn’t the best idea for me neck.” Sav looked back at the paint on the doorframe and asked the drummer, “So then why did you sleep in here?” “Oh,” Rick looked around the tub, stating as-a-matter-of-factly, “The porcelain keeps the suit from wrinkling. I guess drunk me was very careful last night.” “I’ll say,” Joe complemented, “The lipstick’s still holding up pretty well.” Phil halted the conversation, “Wait, so you were in here when I went to the bathroom in the middle of the night?” Rick chuckled, “Yeah, and let me tell you, for a smaller guy, you’ve got a big bladder.” “Wait,” you slowly turned and pointed at Joe, “I thought you said you slept in the bathtub-?” He gave you a cocky smirk in return, “I told you, ‘definitely not the bathtub’...” Rick sleepily laughed and pointed at you, “Ha- Y/N, you look like Joe!” “Why, just because of the shirt?” you inquired, pointing at Joe’s tank top on you. “And the paint!” Rick corrected you, “I can’t believe you guys didn’t wash it off yet!” In a second, you felt a rush of worry upon realizing that Rick hadn’t said anything about you and Steve yet. It made you suddenly come to the possible conclusion that he may not know about it all. “Wait,” Phil snapped his fingers, “So you do remember some stuff from last night?” “Yeah, a bit, I think. Why?” “Philip Kenneth Collen, don’t you fucking dare....” you growled at him in an almost pleading manner, rubbing your temples and grinding your teeth. “What do you remember?” Phil asked him, not giving any sort of reaction to your begging. Rick thought for a few seconds, clearly as hungover as the rest of you. It didn’t take him long to list off some brief happenings he recalled. “Well, I remember us singing Sweet, there was a lap dance, I remember- uh, being denied a bottle of scotch, there was, uh... there was lipstick... and did I try to ice-skate on pieces of cardboard down the hall...?” “Is that why there’s cardboard all down the hallway?” you motioned towards the door. Rick gave you a big proud smile and a nod in response. “So...” Joe looked around, definitely looking eager, “What’s the last thing you remember before falling asleep?” Rick rested his head back on the tub again, thinking as hard as his hungover mind would let him. You hoped to every god there was that he didn’t say anything about Steve. “Just Phil comin’ in here and having a long piss, that’s all.” came the verdict. “You sure you didn’t hear-“ Phil anxiously began to ask him, but got a hand slapped over his mouth by you. “No!” you yelled on impulse, sending more daggers through your burned-out head. All eyes were now on you, and silence fell. For a few tense seconds, you stared into Phil’s eyes, sending him visual messages of both threats and desperate requests. “...what the hell happened last night?” Rick broke the silence in a tone of utter confusion, knowing that something more serious than what he remembered had taken place. You pulled your hand back from Phil’s face, “Yuck, Phil, come on!” “You licked her hand, didn’t you?” asked Sav. “Yes,” Phil confirmed, and continued without missing a beat, “And I’m glad you asked that, Rick, cos' I know what happened after Y/N and Sav paid you a visit last night.” “Phil, if you love me in any way, shape, or form, you will not tell Rick what happened,” you begged to him as you began to walk out the bathroom door, heading back downstairs to wallow in more of your shameful hangover, “I refuse to believe it happened until there’s hard proof.” “Well what more proof do you want? A positive pregnancy test?” Phil shrugged, but suddenly slapped his own hand over his mouth, realizing what he’d just said. You shot him an angry look. You were too tired to have it out with him, so you stumbled away. Right about now, you were ready to give up and accept the fact that you probably did shag Steve. Phil turned to Rick, gaping, and slowly began to speak again, "Right... so last night, after those two were in here, I think that’s when they came back downstairs..." *** "So why are you tying up my hair again?" a drunk Steve asked Phil, who was happily putting his hair into pigtails. "Because I knew you’d look pretty, and I knew you wouldn't object, either," the other guitarist laughed evilly as he finished tying the second bundle of golden locks together, "There, you're all done now." "Cool... I think," Steve tilted his head, staring at himself in the mirror on the wall as footsteps began pounding their way down the stairs. "I think you look pretty, Steve. Pretty, pretty, pretty," Joe giggled as he was flipped off by the pig-tailed guitarist. As this happened, you trampled the stairs in your descent, calling out, “Steve- Steve! Come here!” More than happy to be ripped away from Phil’s pigtailed plans, he let you run up to him as you belted out, “I’ve got an idea...!” He didn’t say anything, but he did let you whisper something in his ear. The second he heard your idea, his eyes lit up and an evil smirk crossed his face. Steve was always in the mood for causing terror. You pulled back and exchanged the same look of understanding with the guitarist. He stared at you with a sort of appreciation, and without another word, swept you off your feet, carrying you bridal style now. With a quick smooch to your lips, he began carrying you up the stairs as you giggled with some sort of glee. Phil’s jaw dropped, looking at Joe with astonishment in the process. The singer’s face mirrored the exact same expression. “I should’ve bloody known...” Phil gasped in astonishment, “She’s been eyeing him up real funny all night... I can’t fucking believe it!” Sav came down the stairs slowly, his life depending on the railing as he dragged his hand on it. He left a long streak of blue paint as he did so. “What’s gotten into their pants?” “Each other, apparently,” Joe scoffed, taking a sip of a beer he found, “Lord knows how the hell that happened.” *** You were all sitting back on the couches in the living room, all seemingly regretting the night before (you knew you most certainly were). Everyone knew that the end of Phil’s story was the true ending of the night. Now there was really a dead end to the whole tale. “I can’t believe it,” you whispered with sorrowful acceptance, “Me and Steve...? What happened next?” Joe scoffed, “Well that’s kind of a stupid question.” “That’s where it ends, Y/N. I went up to bed afterwards, only to hear-“ Phil cleared his throat to impersonate you and Steve, “‘Oh, Steve! Yes!’ coming from my room! So after an immense helping of disapproval, I slept in Rick’s room.” “No, no, that can’t be it!” you insisted, “Guys, what really happened next?” “Can’t say,” Joe mumbled, holding his head. “Sorry, mate,” Rick apologized. Sav remained silent, but looked apologetic. “That can’t be where it ends...!” you persisted, “Sav? Tell me I’m right!” Sav rolled in his lips, and darted his eyes away from you. You continued to stare at him suspiciously, but no one else thought anything of it. Phil tried to finalize your fate sympathetically, “Give it up, Y/N, at least it’s all over now.” “But it still happened! What am I gonna say to Steve when he wakes up? You know what- no. It didn’t happen, I refuse to believe that it did.” “How much more proof do you want?” Rick shrugged, pointing at Phil and Sav, trying to make you face the terrible truth, “They both heard ya, and Steve even gave you a hickey.” You hung your head, thinking you might just decide to cry out of shame. Yes, you loved Steve, just as you loved anyone else in the band, but you never had (or planned to have) any sort of sexual relationship with them. Even if you ever did, you were afraid it would ruin everything your friendship had stood for. “Sav, what’s wrong, mate?” Joe asked out of the blue. The bassist in question was still avoiding the conversation, staying eerily silent and weaving his hands together. At this point, you noticed that he was also blushing. “That wasn’t Steve.” he stated bluntly, still not looking at you. “What wasn’t Steve?” you asked as you stared at him dead on, your heart now pounding. “That hickey... that wasn’t Steve,” he paused, “That was me.” Immediately you gasped and slapped a hand over the mark on your neck. “What?!” the other three exclaimed. Joe and Rick immediately hissed at the searing pain their outbursts caused. “Sav, what the hell?!” you scolded him, finally happy that you weren’t the only one being called out for their mistakes. “Now before you say anything else,” he finally looked at you and held up a hand, “It was your idea.” Your face fell, softly asking him, “What do you mean?” “Well, after you and Steve-you know- and only Joe and I were downstairs, you actually came back down, too- wipe that smug look off your face, Joe. You’re not entirely innocent here, either.” *** You stumbled down the stairs, giggling to yourself. Your mission was now accomplished, and Steve was asleep upstairs. In a word, you were pleased. In two words, you were still drunk. Records were still being played when you returned to the living room, and Joe currently had his copy of Sheer Heart Attack on the turntable. “She Makes Me (Stormtrooper In Stilettos)”flowed softly from its speakers. “There’s our killer queen!” Joe cooed to you happily. He was now sprawled out on the couch, two empty beer bottles on the floor beside him. Sav wasn’t too far off. The paints on his hands were now dry, and he was reclined in a chair across the room, twiddling a bottle in his hand. They both looked ready for bed, and it made you wonder how they held out for this long. The singer slurred on with an interested smirk, “You two have fun?" Sav spoke up with a scoff-like laugh, “Sure sounded like it!" “Oh, you know it,” you gave them a wink, setting yourself down on the couch next to Joe, “Guess Phil finally ditched, huh?” “Yeah, the wanker went to bed- but you’ve lost your pants!” he gestured to your black underwear, made room for you to lay down with him, and took you in his arms like a teddy bear with a sigh of appeasement. You reached back and playfully poked at Joe’s dimple, “Steve's fault." “Well, that’s no good,” Sav objected, pushing the footrest of the chair in and returning to a sitting position. “What isn’t?” Joe asked him, "Steve gettin' into it with her?" “No, that cuddlin' you're doing- it’s boring. You stay like that, you’ll fall asleep on me!” He was certainly right about this. With you in Joe’s arms and his face nuzzling into your hair like some sort of animal, he was already falling asleep. “What do you want us to do?” you chuckled, thinking that Sav was only jealous of his friend. Joe mumbled happily into your hair, “How 'bout you just do me like Steve, and we’ll be good.” At this point, you noticed the feeling of something pressing lightly against the bottom of your back; a certain weight where Joe’s hips were, and a weight that wasn’t there at first. “Joe,” you whined at him, “You’re fucking gross.” He chuckled, then slowly moved his hips to lightly rub himself against you, a low quiet moan rising in his throat from the temporary pleasure it provided. “Ah- Joe!” you protested again, reaching back and hitting him as best as you could. You wiggled out of his embrace as he burst into giggles like he had just accomplished something. Sav, on the other hand, cringed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re even hornier than when you’re sober!” you grabbed a pillow and whacked Joe with it. “You’re one to talk! You just shagged Steve!” he smirked evilly, "Why not me?" “Ha! The only way I’ll do you is by some miracle, or at least a dare,” you threw yourself onto the other couch, picking up a nearly empty beer bottle and pouring whatever was left into your mouth. Sav’s eyes finally lit up, “That’s what we oughta do- truth or dare!” “Ooh, sounds like terrible fun,” you turned yourself so you were sitting upside-down on the couch, “Sav, truth or dare?” “How come he gets to go first?” asked Joe, “I wanna get down to business!” “Dare,” Sav declared, ignoring the singer’s objections. Immediately, your intoxicated mind thought of a scheme. Despite the plan you and Steve had executed ever so perfectly, you were still a child seeking more terror. You knew Joe wanted you, and it was no secret either, so how exactly would you use Sav to reign terror over him? You wanted something to rub in Joe’s face- something that would leave a mark on him. “I dare you to-" you clumsily pointed to your neck, "Gimme a hickey.” Joe's jaw dropped with offense and jealousy; exactly as you had expected. Sav began to laugh rather loudly at the request, and stood up, now understanding your true intention of making Joe jealous. “C’mere,” he motioned with his hand. More than happy to obey the command, you strutted over to him and paused, waiting for him to make the first move. He took a step so your bodies were practically pressing together, moved your hair out of the way on your neck, and dove right in. You smiled with glee, taking in the feeling of Sav’s mouth and tongue moving over your skin (as well as Joe’s groans of protest coming from a few feet away). As the bassist sucked on your neck without hesitation, it only made you think of one thing: “Wow, there’s definitely gonna be a mark after this.” *** Rick and Phil were staring at Sav with their mouths open in shock. You kept a hand over the mark he left on your neck to prevent everyone from looking any more than they already had. “So, wait, if it was you who gave me this, why didn’t you say anything before when we said it was Steve?” you asked Sav, more suspicious than outraged now. “I- ah, didn’t... wanna say anything...” he looked away, beginning to blush again, “I guess I was too embarrassed." “I think the only person who should be embarrassed is you, Joe,” Rick turned his attention back to the singer, “You fuckin dry humped her!” Joe exclaimed in his own defense, “Yeah, and I don’t even remember it! It’s not my fault- I was drunk and horny!” “See! Just like me and Steve! I don’t remember shagging him, either! So I guess we’re even.” “Even Stephen,” Phil scoffed. You slumped into the couch more, staring blankly ahead and realizing, “So I pretty much got to second base with all of you last night...?” “I think you made it all the way home with Steve,” Rick pointed out. “Thanks, Rick,” you kept your head hung, “I feel like a slut.” “You mean you’re not?” Phil joked, only to be hit in the arm by Sav.

Just then, you all heard the sound of movement upstairs. Your heart stopped and your blood ran cold; Steve was awake now. Everyone's jaws hit the floor, and for a second, you thought they were all afraid of what you were fearing. "He's awake..." Rick announced in a sing-song voice, teasing you. “Oh no...” you gasped quietly, “Oh no, oh no! Oh god, what am I gonna do? What am I gonna say to him?!” “Hate to break it to ya, but this isn’t necessarily our problem!” Joe shrugged in a panic, hearing Steve’s footsteps get closer. “But guys! You’ve gotta help me! You’re his best friends! What should I say to him?!” “Just act like it didn’t happen! Maybe he doesn’t remember-?” Sav proposed. Rick suggested, “Just straight up ask him if he remembers anything!” “Just get out of here!” Phil made a swatting motion towards the other room. “None of those are gonna do me any good! It still happened!” you yelled at them in a whisper, “I have to live that with that fact, even if neither of us have any memory of it to live with!” It was too late for any salvation; Steve was already at the top of the stairs. The band members held their breath, and- without words or warning- all scrambled out of the living room. “No!” you whispered, “Guys- wait!” You caught Rick by the wrist when he stood up. “Rick, c’mon, please don’t leave me here!” you begged. He yanked out of your grip and apologetically condemned you, “Sorry, Y/N, but this is your business.” As the four of them retreated, you tried to bolt after them. As soon as you hit the doorway, however, Phil turned around and pushed you back on the couch nearby as slowly as he could. It was so sudden that you were on your back before you knew it, and they were all gone. “Hey!” you called out after them, “Assholes!” Steve’s voice suddenly came to your ears (rather closely, too), “What’s their problem?” You jumped, “Ah- Steve!” He had a silent step, and made it down the stairs and across the room without making a sound. He also looked just as he did a little while ago when you first woke up; scraggly hair, lipstick stains all over his face, but no visible evidence of a hangover. “Hey, wow,” you forced an awkward chuckle at him, “Nice- uh, nice- lipstick...” Steve slumped down onto a chair and grumbled, “Thanks. Who even did this to me? Doesn’t look like it was you.” “That was, that was Rick- I’m assuming... I don’t remember that happening and I don’t think he does, either. He’s still got the lipstick on, too.” He played off the remark with a tired smile, “Oh, nice... last night really was something, wasn’t it?” Heat rushed to your face, and you tried to look away without being conspicuous. “Ha ha... yeah... really something!” you faked your amusement for him, now wondering if he was implying anything about the previous night. Steve leaned forward and asked, “Do you remember Sav and the paint? That was pretty funny, wasn’t it?” Still blushing, you darted your eyes around the room and nodded in agreement, “Mm hmm, yeah... he was like a toddler or something.” He sunk back into the chair again and closed his eyes, reminiscing about the events of the previous night. For a second you thought you were in the clear, and that maybe he didn’t remember the specific event that Phil and Sav did.

That illusion was shattered when his eyes snapped open, whispering “Wait a minute”, and sitting back up. Immediately, your heart dropped into your stomach.

“How did our plan go?” he questioned quietly, figuring that the others were still somewhere nearby and listening. “P-plan?” you stuttered, partially afraid of what he meant, but partially caught off guard, “What plan?” “You know-” he whispered again, thinking you remembered, “It was your idea. Did they believe it? We were convincing enough?" You darted your eyes down to the floor, confused, but also embarrassed. 'Convincing'? What did that mean? "Oh come on, don’t tell me you don’t remember!” he smiled playfully. As you stared at him with fearful confusion in your eyes and redness on your cheeks, his smile was suddenly wiped away. He muttered under his breath as his face fell, "Oh... you don't remember... bloody hell, okay, this is gonna be hard to explain..." "Then explain it, because I'm really fucking confused..." your voice wavered with a sarcastic chuckle. Steve sighed and leaned forward, slowly weaving his hands together. He didn't know where to begin. "This is one of the few things I remember from last night..." he started off, "And there's no way to make this sound... good... in any way, but you came up with the idea of us pretending to shag- like making noises and shit like that- to trick the others into thinking we really did. For some reason I thought it was a great idea, and I'm pretty sure I carried you upstairs, too.” Instantly, a huge weight was lifted off your shoulders. It wasn't real; you didn't shag Steve, and he could even tell the guys himself! You blew out a big sigh of relief, and slumped back into the couch, closing your eyes. "Oh, god," you slowly panted, "What a huge relief- I suppose we were really convincing, then." "Why d'you say that?" You laughed tiredly, now feeling rather thankful for your raging hangover, "The guys are all convinced that we fucked last night. Only Phil and Sav seem to remember it, though. They've been hounding me about it all morning. I kept telling them it couldn't be true- and I was right!" "What, would it be so bad if we actually did?" he teased you in a hushed voice. "Well, I've had to live my day so far under the impression it did happen. I was teased, ridiculed, embarrassed, and felt guilty about it. I was afraid it'd ruin our friendship if it was true... I was kinda hoping you didn't remember so we could just forget..." The red in your face returned all over again. Steve, however, didn't seem bothered. "If you really want to, we can keep pretending it happened and steer into the act; give em' what they want." "What? No!" you laughed out loud, standing up, "You're crazy, Clark! I think I better go tell the others the bad news. They'll be disappointed-ha!" You walked across the room to go find the others and disclose unto them the "bad news", giving Steve a pat on the shoulder when you passed him. Once you were gone and out of sight, Steve also blew out a big sigh of relief. "She didn't remember anything," he thought to himself, "That was a close one." While he knew you two didn't go all the way the previous night, he figured if you didn't remember it, then it was for the best you didn't find out. It was nothing serious; just a bit of fooling around, really. Just a bit of drunked-up teasing, and nothing more. The guys had no proof that anything actually happened between you two, and you were about to tell them the partial truth anyway, so why say something to reignite the suspicion? After all, they were all hungover to begin with, so there wasn't much memory of the whole affair, either. "Thank god for these hangovers,"Steve thought, "Thank god. I couldnt've asked for anything more." ~Epilogue~ When you got to the top of the stairs, Steve put you on your feet and spun you around. "You ready?" he whispered, childish excitement in his voice. You nodded with equal excitement, "Take me away, Clark." The two of you began eagerly walking hand-in-hand to whatever room you pleased, but before either of you had the chance to pick one, the bathroom door opened, Rick popped his head out and commanded, "Stop right there!" Both you and Steve froze and looked at him. He still had his lipstick and his suit on, and a kind of serious look overtaking his face. A finger was kept in a pointing position at you, a few large pieces of cardboard were underneath his other arm, and he slowly took steps down the hall to meet you. Neither of you moved, but both of you waited. When Rick got to you, he didn't say a word, but did take Steve's face in his hands (dropping the cardboard in the process), and proceeded to the kiss the man all over his face.

Steve remained silent, and let Rick have his way until he decided to stop. When he did, there were several lipstick stains on various parts of the blonde's face.

"Thanks, mate," Steve muttered sarcastically as Rick kicked some of the cardboard pieces in different directions. He then stepped on two of them, trying to slide down the hall on them as if they were ice skates. When he got back to the bathroom, he went back inside and shut the door again.

Without another word, you turned Steve's face toward you, gave him a peck on the cheek as Rick had done, and kicked open the door behind you (which just so happened to be Phil's bedroom). You both fell back into the room, giggling with makeshift lust in your eyes.

After all, you had to make this authentic, right?

#def leppard #def leppard fanfic #def leppard x reader fanfic #def leppard x reader #steve clark #phil collen #rick savage #rick allen #joe elliott #original content #i'm still proud of this ngl #it was hard tying up the loose ends but i had a LOT of fun writing this throughout 2018

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vesta-writing · 4 years ago

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Rant

Most of my posts are queued because some days I have a shit tone of motivation, and other days I’m awake for maybe 2 or 3 hours because I’m mentally drained from the pandemic, classes, work, and my family situation. I try to write something every day, but there are some days where I really just can’t. Right now, because I started college in a major that 1) wasn’t what I was interested in, 2) has some of the hardest intro-level courses at my university, and 3) my fall semester last year was fully online and I took some of the hardest (at my school) courses that sophomores can take, my GPA is just under 2.5, thankfully, now my major and my coursework is something that I understand and can do fairly easily, so my GPA is going back up, but I have a lot that I need to do to bring my grades up to what I want them to be.

Right now, I have 7 (I think) drafts, one of =which has been in my drafts since May, and another that I started working on on June 24th. I’m going to be 100% honest here, if its one of my long posts, at some point it was in my drafts for at least a week so that I can do necessary research, rough draft it, add in photographs/graphs/charts where necessary, and review the post so that it’s the quality I want it. If it’s a long political post, it’ll be in my drafts for a lot longer than one week, just because those topics tend to mentally drain me really easily.

I have not been having a very good year, I had COVID back in March, and some of the effects still linger, and I tend to get sick really easily, and when that happens I end up with no energy for days on end. In April and May, I had to deal with and ex getting really shitty about the fact that I’m bi, and then after we broke up he was harassing me and showed up at my job to talk to me, to which my boss ended up calling the campus PD and I had to file a report about it, and the Title IX and Student Conduct offices at my university both took a report about it, and because of how stressed I was, I asked them to just hold onto the report unless he started harassing me again, because I was starting to freak out at the very idea of me needing to face him at a hearing after everything that happened. I ended up bombing two classes last semester, and then almost not passing a third. I also ended up moving out of a family member’s house because of having had COVID and being yelled at fo having to go to the ER after a doctor told me that I had to go because he thought I had pneumonia.

I straight up don’t know if I have enough spoons to last me the rest of the year. There are days where the only “social activity” that I can remember to do is send streaks on Snapchat, because for me, it’s something small and routine that helps me keep some semblance of normalcy during the pandemic and classes. The only reason I talk to a couple of my friends on a near-daily basis, even when I’m completely drained, is because they live with me, so I can’t really get away with not talking to them.

The ask that I answered last week kinda really bothered me. I’m just one person, and I was writing about something that was recent news. Please remember that the people you go after on social media have things going on that you don’t know about. I try really hard to not let my stress get to me too badly, but when someone starts acting like I should be doing more that I can handle at the moment, it really hurts. Everyone has a limit to what they can handle at a given time about a particular topic, and it isn’t okay for you to go off on someone for not doing activism or raising awareness in the way or amount that you want them to. It’s not right, and if you’re one of those people who is willing to get snippy with someone for not posting enough for you, please just block me and don’t interact with my posts. I’m a 20 year old college student not a career activist, my number 1 responsibility is my classes, then my job, then my writing, and then literally everything else. Please just understand that.

#vesta speaks #personal rant #sorry for the rant #but it needed to be said #social activism #politics #activism

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ussjellyfish · 4 years ago

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please have snow and mistletoe | gen | Skimmons, Philinda | Agents of SHIELD

written for @agentsofchallenges as a pinch hit for @maybebrilliant!!

Merry Christmas, lovely! I hope you enjoy this. We’ve had some awful weather and that just seemed to work.

read on ao3

Jemma and Daisy were supposed to go see her parents for Christmas but it's snowing and the flights are cancelled the hotels are full and they're in the worst airport Jemma's ever seen.

So May's going to come get them.

=======

"The flight's canceled," Jemma reports, flopping down on the bench, totally defeated. "So is everything else crossing the Atlantic Ocean that's not a boat, and I think they're turning those back too."

Daisy pats her shoulder and finishes the last of her cold coffee. "Guess we should call your parents."

"They'll be so disappointed," Jemma says, taking a breath. She probably wouldn't be near tears if it wasn't the middle of the night in potentially the worst airport on the eastern seaboard. Newark was crowded, so many flights had been delayed or cancelled that she and Daisy had barely gotten a bench after they'd barely gotten through customs. They'd already queued for hours, had terrible food, and the bathrooms were overcrowded and everyone was annoyed. Everyone was so annoyed that the air seemed to crack with it.

"Hey," Daisy said, smiling. "They'll understand. We can get a hotel or go back to base and we'll try again."

"Before the world ends or we get attacked by killer robots."

Daisy laughs and leans back. "We're good at that though, so it'll have to be another horrible thing."

"Like aliens." Jemma tries to smile. "Or weeping angels."

"Why are the angels sad?"

"Oh they're not actually weeping they're just covering their faces because they're evil and they're going to get you as soon as you stop looking."

Daisy grins. "Wait, what?"

"It's complicated, but the gist of it is that the angels sneak up on you when you're not looking at them."

"And they're evil."

"So evil."

"So let's not fight them." Daisy pulls her feet up and wraps her arms around her knees. "What do we do if there's no flight?"

"We rent a car-"

"Oh no, it's like The Day After Tomorrow death blizzard out there, we're not driving, you get annoyed with the traffic around the Playground."

"I'm only pointing out that roundabouts would be much more efficient."

"Uh huh." Daisy takes another sip of her coffee and frowns. It must be gone. Daisy looks for the bin, but of course there's no bin, this airport is the 8th circle of hell.

"We could get a hotel, hang on," Daisy opens up her laptop, touches something, does something else and even in hell, Daisy has wifi because she's Daisy. She's probably hacking NASA or something.

"Dammit," Daisy mutters after a few minutes.

"Let me guess, they're all booked."

"Everything. So many people are stuck here that I can't find a hotel anywhere within a hundred miles."

"And we'd have to get the hundred miles."

"Yeah." Daisy rubs her eyes. "We could just sleep here."

"In an airport?"

Daisy shrugs. "It's not the worst. It's safe, but the stupid lights are on all night and it's really not very comfortable."

Jemma sighs, buries her head in Daisy's shoulder and groans. "Spending the night in the airport on Christmast?"

"With a couple thousand of our stranded new friends," Daisy mutters. "Better call May and tell her we're not leaving the country."

It's somehow one of the shortest and most touching conversations of her life.

"May's coming to get us."

"What?" Daisy asks, eyes wide. "It's like...actual hell out there."

"She's driving, she said two hours, maybe three, but she'll be here before dinner."

Daisy shakes her head. "Okay."

"That's really nice of her."

"She is really nice."

"I know, I just--" Jemma stops, because she really can't complain about not getting to see her parents for Christmas because she's seen them every other Christmas of her life and she has parents, and a wonderful girlfriend and May who's coming to get them through the worst blizzard of the last sixty years.

She still wants to be home. She's earned it. It's been such a long year. She sniffs, and shakes herself out of it.

"What movies do you have on your laptop?"

Daisy wraps an arm around her and they settle in as best they can. May will be here.

Oddly enough, two hours later it's Coulson who comes in to get them. He's all wrapped out, parka and hate and scarf and a big smile for both of them.

"Come on, May's just outside." He hugs them, Daisy first, then Jemma, and it's so terrible outside that he somehow smells like snow and cold.

"Aren't you--?" Daisy asks and Coulson just smiles.

"I didn't want to leave May alone in the base for Christmas."

"She said she doesn't celebrate Christmas."

"We like not celebrating together," Coulson says, but there's something that makes him smile about that. "Give me your luggage."

"It's on the plane already, or not unloaded, or--" Jemma stumbles over the words, yawning, and Daisy finishes.

"I think they're going to have to drop it off with us."

"That bad huh?"

"It's Newark," Daisy grumbles, folding her arms. "I wanted to just let May fly us."

"We can't possibly ask May to fly us to my parents house."

"She'd love too," Coulson reminds them both, leading them towards the frozen hellscape of outside. They have to stop talking as they reach the doors because the wind screams around them and whips ice and snow like a sandstorm.

Hell is frozen, and all the devils are here. They hurry into the (once) black SHIELD SUV that's covered in so much ice and snow that's it's almost grey-white.

Daisy doesn't even have a hat because it was nice when they left and they tumble into the backseat, rubbing their fingers together and trying to catch their breath.

May turns around, looking at them both with a very gentle smile. "There's food in the backpack, hot chocolate in the thermos and blankets. Phil, where did you put their hats and mittens?"

"They're in the cloth bag. You didn't really take the hard core winter gear."

"Yeah, it was like 40 degrees when we left the base." Daisy buckles up and grabs the backpack. "I'm starving."

"We thought so, the food here is terrible."

"The worst," May agrees, checking that they're in before she pulls out from the curb. Another car slides past them, like actually slides and Jemma grabs Daisy's hand.

Daisy pats her knee with a smile and mouths "It's May."

It's not that Jemma doesn't have every confidence in May, she does. May is a legend at everything she does, it's just that the weather outside is actually legendarily bad. They crawl along on the freeway, surrounded by giant trucks that can't stay on the road and Jemma counts fourteen cars in the ditch before they're even out of New Jersey.

Daisy leans over, close enough that Jemma can smell the hot chocolate on her lips. "Stop panicking."

"Did you not see the cars in the ditch? The overturned lorry trucks? The complete lack of plows and gritters?"

"What's a gritter?"

"Those big lorries that throw grit on the roadway."

"Grit?" Daisy teases, eyebrows high.

"Stop making fun of me, you know what I mean."

"I do, I just like making fun of you."

Jemma rolls her eyes and tries to forget about the chance of them spinning into a ditch and spending the night sleeping in the SUV. Does SHIELD have any anti-ice and snow technology? Is there some kind of SAT NAV that May can follow out of the storm.

"Stop panicking," Daisy whispers again.

"How are you not?" Jemma snaps back in a whisper. "That car almost hit us."

"Look." Daisy points carefully in the dim light. It takes Jemma far too long to figure out what she's looking at.

Coulson's hand is on May's knee. It's innocent enough, maybe he's just- but it's right there and it looks like it's been there a long time.

"That's not all," Daisy whispers, smiling at the secret she's discovered. "Wait a minute."

Jemma curls up with Daisy and the blankets in the backseat and watches as Couls holds on May's tea so she doesn't have to look away from the road. They talk in low tones, and Jemma and Daisy can't hear them over the sound of ice thudding against the roof and the windows, but sometimes one of them will laugh.

May, laughs, while driving through the worst mess Jemma's ever seen. Time crawls, Daisy falls asleep for a while, then Jemma, but when she wakes up again, they're still driving, and Coulson's hand is on the back of May's neck.

She couldn't really tell what he's doing unless May's getting some kind of stress headache, and Coulson's hand is really hidden in her hair, except the snow's softer now and she can hear them talking.

Still not quite the words, but there's something almost flirty in the way Coulson won't stop looking at May.

Of course, they have a connection, years of history. They're really good friends.

Except friends don't really spend lonely holidays together alone at a secret base.

Jemma falls asleep wondering what they're saying, because May's laughing again and even in the middle of the darkest, most miserable, cold and wet Christmas Eve she's ever had, there's something nice about being curled up with Daisy just listening.

====

"We're home," Coulson says, shaking her a little. "Nice and safe and warm in the garage."

Jemma slowly blinks herself awake, stretching as she crawls out of the car. Daisy stands by the other door, still half asleep. They both yawn and check their phones. It's well after two in the morning.

"Happy Christmas, mum and dad," Jemma whispers to her phone and sends them a text. Maybe she'll see them by New Year.

Daisy circles the back of the SUV, whistling at the snow. "I didn't know the roads could be that bad."

"May did a great job."

Hugging Jemma sleepily, Daisy nods. "Course she did, she's Agent May."

Still arm in arm, they walk towards the front of the SUV to thank Coulson and May for coming to get them, but they stop.

They're kissing.

Not just, light, gentle, Happy Christmas, kissing, but wrapped around each other as if this kiss is the first one of the rest of their lives. There should be music with this kiss.

Daisy stops, mouth open.

Jemma should pull herself together but she doesn't. She stares too, because they keep going until both of them are gasping for breath.

"Ummm."

"Merry Christmas," Coulson says, blushing a little.

"Mistletoe," May says, pointing up at the high ceiling of the garage.

There's nothing up there. Jemma looks and Daisy looks and they both nod and May grabs Coulson's hand and they walk into the base together, Coulson's arm around her shoulders.

Daisy stares and stares and then her expression softens, warms. "They--"

Jemma kisses her, stopping her speculation. When they part, Daisy looks at her, confused.

"Mistletoe," Jemma teases and Daisy rolls her eyes.

"You know there's nothing up there."

"Maybe that's the point."

Daisy strokes her hair, then smiles. "Sorry. you're stuck here."

"I'm not," Jemma says, and now, finally, wrapped in Daisy's arms, she might mean it.

#agents of shield #agents of challenges #philinda #skimmons #maybebrilliant #fluff and happiness

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theres-no-protocol-for-this · 4 years ago

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Necessary Repairs

Part III. I don’t even know if you have to read any of the other parts. SecUnit should probably have slept through most of its own healing, but that’s not this machine’s luck.

Part I | Part II

At some indeterminate point later, I woke up.

I was receiving minimal sensory data, and none of it was sight-related. A diagnostic subroutine spun up and casually began sending me bursts of error messages I couldn't even begin to translate.

Oh, and the world was pitch black.

It took me more than five seconds to determine that the darkness was self-inflicted and open my eyes. Longer still for the random noise to resolve into sounds I could understand -- the hum of an air circulation system, at least two distinct voices, and an automated warning system. My connection to the feed stabilized, but the walls that normally guarded my mind against its onslaught were conspicuously absent.

Something else was shielding me, something big and surprisingly gentle.

Friend?

I could feel cold metal under my back and head, probably the medical suite platform. My internal temperature refused to rise, so I was shivering and couldn't stop. It felt like I was still leaking, and the pain ebbed and flowed with each passing moment.

“Would you like me to turn up the heat?” Transport asked.

Yes. Where the hell am I?

I felt a mild shock as the governor kicked in. It hadn't liked my tone, apparently, or the phrasing of my answer, and wasn't shy about letting me know. The standard code read, "you're outside of protocol and need to adjust your attitude."

Silently, I cursed the damn thing. I was getting used to life without it.

A moment later, Transport answered, "SecUnit, you're still in medical, and your performance rating, while stable, remains abysmally low."

The ship paused and sent me a couple of data packets that succinctly described all the things still wrong -- which was most of them. I should've probably remained in stasis, but the medical unit was calibrated for humans. So, it hadn't given me nearly enough sedative to knock out the organic parts of a construct for any appreciable amount of time.

I was awake, kind of.

"I'm waiting for your vital signs to improve," Transport added. "Until then, would you like to watch an episode of that one show you liked?"

Yes, please.

The ship's calm tone reassured me, even though everything else looked like shit. My diagnostics were coming back with nonsense, still. The governor couldn't find a SecSystem to connect with. The Traveler didn't have or need one of those; it had a skeleton HubSystem instead managed security, life support, and logistics. My inflexible governor couldn't figure out how to interface with it.

Surprise, surprise...

It fell back on some preprogrammed garbage, complete with a minimal set of actions and responses. "Yes, please" and "No, thank you" was probably the best I could manage at the moment without incurring its wrath. I'd try poking at it later when my performance no longer looked quite so dramatically sad.

Captain Owens pulled up a chair and sat down where she could see me. Transport shared the view from one of its cameras, so now I could see her, too. It also queued up an episode of a long-running serial and waited for the captain before it started playing. I wanted to ask about the hostiles but couldn't -- thanks governor -- and Transport didn't seem inclined to enlighten me.

I suppose it was only fair; it was doing its best to keep me calm.

MedSystem sorted out the sleeping issue in the meantime and had injected more sedatives into my resupply channel, so sleep was happening shortly, whether I liked it or not. I could practically feel my diagnostics slowing down to a crawl since they relied on data from my organic parts, which were affected by the drugs.

"Good afternoon, SecUnit. I'm glad to see you're awake." The captain nodded in my direction and then turned toward someone I couldn't see. "As I mentioned, thanks to SecUnit, we came out of the boarding attempt in one piece. I'm sorry to hear your ship wasn't as lucky."

A stranger in formal wear came into camera view as he approached Owens. I figured he was the owner of that second voice I hadn't been able to identify earlier. The logo on his tunic looked familiar, but I couldn't place it. Parts of my memory felt like tangled network cables.

"Indeed, but this is still better than nothing. I don't suppose you've already contacted your bonding company?"

The captain's face scrunched up in confusion. "We're insured outside of the Corporation Rim," she explained. "I've sent a message, but I'm here pretty much on my own."

Outside of the Rim, everything appeared to work in ways that were incompatible with corporation control. A lot of the propaganda around freehold planets implied they were a complete shitshow. Except, clearly, the Traveler was doing just fine.

I had a sudden burst of "bad feeling" in my organic neural tissue. Something about the newcomer didn't sit right with me. I thought it might be unwise for the captain to tell him anything about herself or her ship.

"No, thank you." It sounded like my voice, but I didn't remember speaking. Hi buffer, I thought I'd never see you again.

The newcomer gave me a puzzled glance. "So, where'd you get your unit then?"

Owens shrugged and schooled her expression. I'd seen that face before when she'd spoken to her daughter before our first jump. "I rented it from a friend, as a security consultant. It's doing a great job."

I was?

I mean, the human was alive, and the Traveler had an intact hull, so I guess things weren't terrible. I could practically hear the Transport laughing on a private channel. If I could roll my eyes, I probably would have, but the governor frowned on that sort of thing, and my eyes had closed minutes ago.

"I see. Well, if you wouldn't mind giving us a hand with repairs, we can both be on our way." The man watched the captain like a hawk. "I would also recommend getting your unit checked out at a licensed repair station when you get a chance. With this level of damage, there's no telling what other problems are hiding under the surface."

As far as statements go, it was polite enough, but I didn't like it. It sounded to me like a threat.

Performance rating dropping. Initiating emergency shutdown.

I really would prefer you didn't.

***

Memory fragment:

The mining installation doesn't inspire confidence. There are eight of us and two combat models. Ten security units should be enough to keep a workforce of 153 miners and a dozen more supervisors in line. Everything looks worn and rundown, including the humans.

Protocol dictates that we take shifts. A human has created a schedule to which we adhere. The two combat units are mixed in with the rest of us.

It's my patrol shift. I walk through one of the mining shafts and stop at the far end. I can hear a supervisor arguing with two of her employees—something about the rocks they've uncovered. I turn around, ready to head back to the primary installation, when one of the combat units walks up to the three humans.

It has been summoned by the supervisor.

The supervisor tells it to fire on the workers. It does, without question. Bodies crumple to the floor. Then, the supervisor notices me.

***

Transport popped into my feed. "Wake up, SecUnit. How're you feeling?"

"Like I got shot."

The words were out before I could consider the consequences, and I braced for an electric shock -- or worse. Nothing happened. Performance reliability was at 87% and rising steadily. My diagnostics routines had run several times, and the results looked promising. I was also no longer leaking, and most of my organic parts had grown back.

I had two arms again. That was nice.

Transport shared a smiling sigil. Reason unknown. "You did get shot, silly. MedSystem patched you up pretty well. If you're up to it, my captain and I could use your help." It paused and added, "Captain suggested that you might want payment in exchange for services rendered. That's how it works in CR, right?"

I had my doubts about anything actually working in the Corporation Rim. Still, arguing with a clearly sentient ship about theoretical economics didn't sound appealing. I'd rather get shocked again.

"OK," I said aloud and sat up. "Priority question: who was here earlier?"

"Dr. Alexander Soren is the current captain of an ArialHydra exploration vessel. They are stranded in this sector after a pirate attack. Captain Owens speculates that it may be the same group of pirates. We were lucky to have you on board."

Lucky. Right.

I shoved off the platform and crumpled to the floor in a pile of arms and legs. Hi there, limbs. A few minutes later, I managed to get up and stumble around under my own power. I admit to sitting on the floor and trying out my new arm. It didn't have a cannon -- MedSystem didn't have the required parts -- but it was fully functional, otherwise.

"I've seen Dr. Soren before." I couldn't remember where. That bothered me.

"Perhaps you were deployed on one of his survey missions?"

"I don't know."

One of the ship's drones floated into the room, carrying spare clothing, which it dropped directly on my head. I grabbed at the falling fabric and started getting dressed. It was the Traveler's standard-issue uniform, beige and blue and generally not hideous. I missed the protective qualities of armor, but it would've been weird to wander through the ship's pristine, carpeted halls with it on.

Captain Owens walked into the medical room and waved at me and the drone. "I see you're both here and scheming."

"We're not scheming, and technically, I'm everywhere," Transport informed us.

"I don't think you should trust Dr. Soren," I blurted out.

Owens narrowed her eyes. "Do you know anything you'd care to share?"

I shook my head. Constructs don't get gut feelings -- we don't even have a gut to have them with -- and my memories of any encounters with the doctor had been removed. Memory wipes aren't typical, but occasionally, a bonding company or a manufacturer/repair company decides they're necessary. I've had at least one that I know about. I also had no idea how to explain that my organic neurons probably remembered things the rest of me didn't.

"Well, in that case, has Trav told you what we need?" At my puzzled expression, the captain said, "We gave the other ship supplies, and they're almost ready to depart. And they're making a fuss about..." She sighed. "Something. I really don't care. They'll be coming back aboard in a few hours to discuss whatever it is. And I would feel much better if you were there. Just in case. And only if you're feeling up to it."

Protecting humans was literally the only thing I liked about my job. "OK."

"Great. Do you want a weapon?"

"Depends on how threatening you want me to look." Any weapon I wielded would be for show unless the human was in danger. And if she was, I had a miniature cannon hidden inside an arm.

The captain pondered this for a moment. Her face went through a range of expressions that Transport interpreted for me as "Captain Owens thinks the other ship's posturing is stupid and would like to be on her way, but it would be impolite to leave, so here we are." I agreed with the captain's assessment.

Finally, she said, "Let's try without any extra threats and see what happens. The quicker we get this over with, the better."

Transport suggested we spend the time between now and the upcoming meeting watching more of its favorite shows. I agreed.

#the murderbot diaries #SecUnit #let me sleep #into the unknown #fanfiction

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canyouhearthelight · 5 years ago

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The Miys, Ch. 69

Obligatory pun - Nice.

Now that I have that out of my system and can therefore stop making horridly adolescent puns about it, this really is a pretty important chapter. We finally see what is going to become of Else!

This is also a particularly long chapter - 4500 words, probably my longest to date. Happy Insert Winter Holiday, Everyone!

I seriously considered splitting it (you can probably figure out where the break would be), but cooler heads prevailed (namely, @satan-parisienne, my beloved beta/sister/IRL!Tyche, and @baelpenrose, my constant source of mutual squeeing).

This is being queued up on December 23, to post on December 24. I still hope to have a chapter to post next week, especially since what I have is so thematically appropriate for the date ;)

After Grey’s revelation of our timetable, the Council decided that negotiations with Else would take place within twenty-four hours. To his credit, Eino promised to deliver the lexicon, but admitted that there would not be time for the precisely worded questions to be drafted and approved. Since we also didn’t have time for Grey to locate another person who had spoken directly with Else, the questions were ultimately unnecessary – I had been making up questions on the fly for Else to this point, so I had no problem continuing to do so.

Once Xiomara closed the channel on our end, I tried to stand. Almost immediately, my traitorous knees objected and I was only saved from hitting the floor by Xio’s quick reflexes. “You’ve been on bed rest for the last three weeks, take it slow, dumbass,” she grumbled.

I forced myself into a standing position, propped up on the bed. “I have to talk to Conor and Maverick, and I’m sick of seeing the inside of this bay. Either get me the closest thing we have to a wheelchair, or I’m going to crawl to my quarters.”

“You do realize that even the Ark has backless hospital gowns? Everyone on the Ark would see you practically naked.”

I grabbed her shirt, and my pride was mollified when she leaned forward and gave me the illusion that I pulled her down. “Either get me a moving chair, or I will crawl down the corridor. Naked.”

With a barely-suppressed chuckle, she helped me into some clothes and onto a transport in the corridor. “While we are on our way, I’ll go ahead and give you the rundown of everyone you are going to ask about. Derek and Sam came out of everything mostly unscathed. They’re a little more jittery than usual, but that’s honestly to be expected. Alistair is grumpy as hell from being flat on his back for so long, but once he was notified you were awake, he limited his bitching to the sheets, the mattress, and the lack of exercise. Charly is awake and alert, but tired and nervous… dropping by to see her would probably be a good idea, honestly. Grandma Kim is Grandma Kim and taking everything in stride. Zach is completely undaunted and unimpressed.”

The slouch I had been suppressing made itself apparent in the wake of my relief. “So, everyone is okay?”

“Well, Hannah and Thor are still asleep, but they’ve been upgraded from comatose to just ‘asleep’. Nixe is breathing on her own, the new lungs are working fine.”

My breath left my body suddenly. “No brain-damage?”

“Not comparatively, no.”

Good. Allowing myself to take in the condition of the real Ark, several things caught my eye. “Xio….”

She grinned and shook her head, locks flying. “Ah. You saw the trees.” I nodded dumbly, speechless. “As soon as they were approved to get out of bed, Derek and Sam started pestering Conor to start setting up the trees for Insert Winter Holiday. Apparently, they were behind schedule, and Derek was very upset about that.”

“And they’re already done?”

“Are you kidding?” she laughed. “They just started yesterday. �� Even with both of your boyfriends helping, they still have at least two more days to finish.”

“They’re already decorated,” I murmured.

“Sam was bored while he was on bed rest,” she shrugged. “So there are a lot of really intricate bows to put on all the trees.”

“Awesome,” I gushed enthusiastically. “I love trees that are over-decorated.” When she quirked an eyebrow at me, I rushed to reassure her. “No, I’m serious. The more heavily decorated the better. I know not all cultures do trees for winter holidays, but if there are trees, I love seeing them absolutely covered.” Truth be told, the decorations were helping dismiss some of the melancholy that came from knowing that I almost missed Insert Winter Holiday in everything that was going on. I shook my head to clear the thoughts. “So, I’m going to guess the trees are the reason we are most certainly not headed toward my quarters.”

With a blinding grin, she shook her head. “Nope. They should be somewhere on Level Eleven. That’s where we’re going.”

Soon enough, we stumbled upon an energetic argument between Maverick and Derek. “But this side looks nicer!”

“That’s not how it was placed last year. The same side should show. That’s why Sam put more bows on the correct side.”

“How can you even tell!?”

Conor was standing back, smiling like he was watching the cutest thing he had ever seen. When he glanced up and saw me, the smile vanished and he promptly reached between them to point in my direction. “Looks like our girl is up and around.”

Astonishingly, Derek beat them both to me and reached to tap my hand three times in succession, dropping his hand to his side each time. My heart swelled with emotion, realizing that he essentially just gave me a bone-crushing hug. “Yeah, I’m okay, Derek. Just tired and a little weak.”

I braced myself for a much more physical greeting, but was saved when Conor and Maverick stopped dead in their tracks and backed up slightly. In their rush to make sure I was okay, it looked like they tripped the proximity alert in Derek’s implant. “Did you do that on purpose?” I asked in hushed tones.

Without looking up, Derek flashed me a knocking gesture, positioned between his body and mine so the other two couldn’t see it. “They get carried away, and if you didn’t walk down here, they may hurt you by accident.” A brief pause. “Besides, they were in quarantine with you. I haven’t seen you since you brought me your blanket.”

“I missed you, too. And Sam. Looks like he was busy, by the way.”

“You have no idea. Zach was practically buried under Sam’s bows. I got lucky. Mac kept trying to play with them and accidentally tore one to pieces. After that, Sam stopped piling them on my bed.”

“If you see him before I do, let him know the bows are beautiful.”

“Duh. Sam makes the best bows. But I’ll tell him you said that.” With that, he stepped around to the other side of the transport so my partners could approach, with a warning to them about being gentle and not breaking me. Xiomara was practically vibrating in her seat from suppressed laughter at this point.

“Hey, you two,” I said softly as they gently checked me over before giving a very restrained double-hug. I took a moment to just breathe them in before breaking the news. “Trees look great – are there more this year?”

Conor nodded, shoving a hand through his shaggy hair. “We started cultivating them last year, so they would all be about the same size. As soon as we were given permission to get up and about, I figured everyone could use the cheer.”

With a heavy sigh, I nodded my head. “You know how I feel about throwing food at people to help recover from a crisis.”

Maverick nodded solemnly. “But, last year when Insert Winter Holiday happened, there wasn’t a crisis, was there?”

I opened my mouth to reply, but Xiomara beat me to it. “No, there really wasn’t, unless you count all of us being abducted for our own good. Which makes this more a need to feel normal than anything else.”

“That was kind of the point last year,” I grumbled.

“And it worked,” she reassured me. “Just like it will work this year.” With that, she issued a very pointed look, silently reminding me why we were here.

Taking a deep breath, I turned back to Conor and Maverick. “The reason everyone feels better is because Else is dying.” Both of the looked confused, so I clarified. “They are killing themselves in an effort to stop hurting us. They aren’t eating, and they aren’t spreading. If something doesn’t change, they’ll be extinct in less than two weeks.”

“This is bad,” Maverick stated uncertainly, looking between the rest of us for confirmation.

“It is,” I nodded. “Because they are sentient species, we can’t just let them die off without trying to help. And,” I held up a hand to prevent the inevitable questions and objections, “I don’t mean just letting them go back to making us sick. Xio and I talked to the Council, there are two solid options on the table as far as relocation – a dying planet or a nebula. The trick is, Else has to agree to whatever is decided.”

“And if they don’t?” Conor asked in the calm tone he always used when he knew he didn’t have all the information.

“If they don’t agree to anything, and keep dying off, we think there is a chance that they will drop below some kind of threshold for sapience. In that event, it’s mostly likely that they would forget to restrain themselves, start multiplying and spreading again.”

“So, they would dip below sentience and pop back up?” Conor tilted his head skeptically. “I’m not getting something. Usually, the plants I cultivate don’t end up with feelings and the impulse control of toddler.”

“To begin with, we don’t know how sick we got before they developed that level of intelligence,” I pointed out. “Second… if they do evolve back into sentient status, there is no guarantee they would be the same – version, for lack of a better term. Different neural connections are what give us our own personalities… this Else wants to help us. What if the next one doesn’t? Worse, what if it wants to actively hurt us due to some primordial memory?”

“Better the devil you know,” Maverick murmured.

I sagged in resignation at what I had to tell them next. “Pretty much. Which means humanity needs to negotiate with Else to figure out a solution both sides can live with.” Closing my eyes as tightly as possible, I braced for the torrent of words that would inevitably come.

Instead, I got two beats of silence and Maverick speaking softly. “Is there anyone who can do this instead? Anyone at all?”

“Not that Grey has been able to locate,” Xiomara responded over my shoulder as I cracked an eyelid.

What I saw was a clearly upset Conor biting his lips and holding Maverick’s hand, which was resting on the taller man’s bicep. “Conor?” I asked slowly. “Are you angry?”

He took two deep breaths before answering. “Yeah,” he finally sighed, tension dropping from his body. “But at the situation, which I can’t do anything about.” Gently, he put both his hands on my shoulders and rubbed my arms lightly. “How soon does this need to be done? Is there more time to find someone who isn’t you?”

“No one knows at what point Else will basically devolve into just another bacterial infection,” I admitted. “So, we want to do this as soon as possible, and regardless of the option chosen, as soon as an agreement is reached, they’ll be placed in coldsleep in the interim to prevent further degradation of us or them.”

“You’re being cagey.” Both he and Maverick pinned me with very pointed looks. “That’s never a good sign.”

“No more than twenty-four hours.”

More deep breaths as he stepped away, one hand on his hip, the other rubbing his neck as he paced in a small circle. “That should be enough time to get the rest of the trees up, as long as we just let Derek call the shots on placement. Mav, can you manage to do that?”

He shuddered. “I may need to just find something else to do. I can only handle so much.”

Conor nodded. “Right then. You keep our bonnie lass company while they get her ready, let me know when they plan to start. I’ll be there, even if I have to tell Zach and Derek to just – I dunno, space the damned trees out an airlock.”

“Conor, you don’t – “

Two long strides and he was back in front of me, stroking my hair. “Love. I’ve mucked up in a big way lately, letting myself be too afraid and not being there like I should be. ‘S not fair to you, ‘s not fair to Mav being pulled like that. I understand if you don’t want me in there, with the way I’ve been acting, but otherwise? I’ll be parked by your berth til we land this lady on the colony if I have to be.”

With a sniffle, I nodded my head silently. Xiomara was not as convinced. “Conor, if you lash out one more time, I will take you into custody, do you understand? I could not believe that you raised your voice the way you did before – you are one of the kindest people I know.”

“Understood, ma’am.” He managed to sound only slightly embarrassed by his previous behavior.

Wiping my eyes, I straightened the best I could. “Okay. I need to head back to the med bay – I’m exhausted. Maverick, ride back with me?”

“You got it, Sophie.” With that, he hopped in behind me in the transport

Twelve hours and a nap later, I was in my all-too-familiar berth in medical, being hooked up to an infusion drip for medication. By grace alone, there was no need to hook me up to any wires like there would have been on Earth – they could monitor my brain and cardiac activity with scans instead. “No sedation if I get mad again, okay?” I demanded sternly. “I need to be clear-headed for this.”

“I make no promises,” Grey replied in a very similar tone to when they observed that my plants had grown. “If your heart rate becomes dangerous, or you show signs of an anxiety or panic attack, I will sedate you for your own sake.”

Ugh. Grey was back to being logical. “Can I at least request the minimum effective dose, nothing more?”

One dark eyebrow arched. You are on thin ice, it screamed. “That is acceptable, provided it does not endanger your health.”

Before I could do more than scowl, the door hissed open to reveal a daunting number of people. In addition to the entire Council, I saw Tyche, Antoine, Alistair of all people, Zach and Derek. Bringing up the rear was Conor, who quickly darted over to my far side, beside Maverick. Tyche and Antoine took up their now-usual positions on my other side, with my sister’s grey eyes colder than I had ever seen them, daring the Council to try to make her move.

They better have Archimedes’s lever if they plan to try that, I mused. Gently resting a hand on her arm in solidarity, I turned to face the breathless man who just sat on my opposite side. “You made it,” I whispered.

“Told ya I would,” he grinned. “Can’t abandon you and Mav to do this alone.” He glanced up and his brows instantly furrowed. “Why’s the Council here?”

Maverick tackled that one, having been present for the initial explanation. “In case any solutions are suggested by Else that weren’t already covered by the Council, but have merit.”

“Okay… How’re they supposed to know what is discussed, exactly? Noah can only get vague hints, can’t they?”

Grimacing, I rocked my head side to side in hesitancy. “Yes and no? They know the lyrics to songs that are stuck in my head, sometimes. Or at least understand the concepts enough to make it seem like he does. We are going to try having me stop and repeat, slowly and emphatically, what Else is suggesting if they go off script.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

“I’ve – I may have been given executive authority in an emergency,” I admitted.

Conor whistled through his teeth. “Sophie. That’s – that’s a lot of pressure.”

“No shit,” I muttered before turning to everyone else standing in the room. “Okay, is this my entire watch party, or are we still waiting?”

Simon spoke up – he was getting better at that. “This is everyone. And a few extras, but I am not going to be the one arguing with your family, especially since the majority agreed to stay out of your way.” He coughed and rubbed his neck before explaining the obvious exceptions. “Tyche and Antoine are claiming official capacity.”

My sister held her head high, chin out – if there was an encyclopedia entry for not gonna budge, that profile was probably the photo next to it. “Should something happen, the responsibility would fall on me to identify candidates for her replacement to suggest to the Council. Since I would rather not, I am staying to observe and ensure it doesn’t come to that.”

Before Antoine could do more than straighten his spine, Grey spoke up. “Mr. Costa is a medical professional, and I have requested him be present, in that capacity, for this procedure.”

Eino attempted a token argument. “Councillor Hodenson, you are a doctor. Can you not – “

“I have a doctorate. Three, actually: biochemistry, genetics, and molecular chemistry. None of that replaces practical training, which Mr. Costa possesses and I do not.”

The educator’s hands went up, mollified. “I stand corrected. Objection withdrawn.”

“Okay, can we please get on with this before I have fourth thoughts?” Second and third were out the window at this point – I had been lying in the berth with nothing else to do but worry for nine hours at this point.

“Any further objections or inquiries from the Council before we proceed?” Grey asked drily. When only silence followed, they nodded. “Per my reports, Else can currently only communicate when a person is in a REM state. Our previous attempt involved Sophia being lucid during this process, to great effect. However, I believe that her complete immobility is what caused the difficulty in relaying information back to Miys. I have adjusted the medication to allow for voluntary muscle control in order to allow her to hopefully subvocalize while relaying information, as this has shown to provide accurate communication with Miys. Sophia is already aware, but to ensure there are no surprises, a spinal block will be placed in order to limit motion to head and jaw. This is only to prevent flailing and potential injury to Sophia.”

Tyche and Conor both turned toward me with wide-eyed stares. I just nodded. “We’ve tested it a couple times to make sure I could still talk. It’s the same way Noah kept me from hurting myself further when I came aboard, originally.” Unspoken was the fact that being held down freaked me the fuck out, whereas I had found the spinal block did not do the same thing when I knew to expect it. In theory, dream-me would never notice the difference.

Grey continued. “Miys will begin transmitting Eino’s lexicon into Sophia’s lingual implant. Sophia, please recite the lexicon once it starts transmitting. This will allow us to monitor communication, both from us to your implant and from you to Miys.” They looked around the room. “It is essential that no one speak unless absolutely essential that they do so. Sophia will perceive this as being whispered, and it is imperative that she hear the lexicon accurately.”

“I love you,” I whispered to the four sitting around my bed, before I started reciting a list of words. True to Eino’s promise, his team had put together a much more concise recording, one which looped back to the beginning. Within thirty minutes, I had completed the entire list twice: once completely out loud, once seeming to trail off as the sedation took effect. The spinal block gave a similar sensation to being weighed down by a heavy blanket, making it more therapeutic than nerve-wracking, and only encouraging the sedatives. When I stopped speaking aloud, Grey nodded to confirm that I was still subvocalizing effectively. Not long after that, my eyes drifted closed.

I opened my eyes to find myself standing in the familiar dream-Ark, still reciting the lexicon. So far, so good. I wanted badly to call out and check on Else, but determinedly stuck to the script. Tears of concern flowed down my cheeks as I completed repetition after repetition. Were we too late? Was the threshold closer than we expected?

Threshold. Late threshold.

“Else!” I cried in relief. “Are we too late?”

Threshold further.

“The threshold is further away? Is that what you mean?”

We mean threshold further away.

Belatedly, I remembered I needed to supplement the lexicon with my questions. “That would be a yes. Thank goodness. I was worried you would be – no longer here.”

We are here.

“We know what you are doing. You don’t have to kill yourself. We don’t want you to go extinct. We want you to live, just like you want us to survive. I’ve been sent to discuss options. Most likely relocation, like we talked about before.”

We do want you to live. What are the options?

There we go. Much more coherent. I sat cross-legged on the floor, craning my neck around. “Is there any chance you can try to… manifest or create something for me to look at? I keep trying to see you, just out of habit, and it would be easier if I had something specific to look at.”

I will try.

Slowly, a fuzzy yellow blob came into focus on the floor in front of me. It was about the size I associated with a corgi, but bright yellow. I couldn’t help the grin that stretched across my face as it slowly drew on grass-green eyes and too many stubby appendages.

Else looked – cute, for lack of a better term. Like an oversized, fuzzy, cartoon caterpillar

“That works,” I laughed.

I tried to manifest as non-threatening as possible.

“I think you nailed it.” I couldn’t help wondering if this was what Else would look like as a larger being. One could only hope. “The people on my ship have asked me to negotiate with you. They are monitoring the best they can what I am saying, but there are going to be times that I need to repeat something to be absolutely sure. When that happens, I am going to do this – “ I touched my ear with my hand. “That way it is clear – to me – that I am repeating it for my shipmates, okay?”

Okay.

Still going well. “Like I said earlier, we know you have stopped feeding, and stopped reproducing. There is a serious chance that you won’t be sentient anymore… you won’t be you.”

I don’t want to hurt anyone.

“But… Else. If you stop being you, you won’t remember that you don’t want to hurt anyone. What is the first thing you remember?”

Hungry.

“Exactly,” I pointed out. “You’ll just be hungry, again. We want you to stay who you are now – intelligent, with feelings, and able to communicate with us. And we hope to help you with that.”

Help how.

“Well, you and I already talked last time about taking you to a nebula, or to an iron rich planet with no atmosphere. We can even place beacons to let others know you live there, so maybe a species who doesn’t depend on iron to survive can find you.”

We really like humans.

I sighed. Of course they did. “The problem there is that we need the iron you eat so that we can function properly, just like you need it. Even if you die faster without it, we can still die without constant transfusions.” I focused on what it was like being in medical, sick and scared, connected around the clock to a machine that basically fed Else. “Humans cannot thrive like that. But you can thrive without us.”

I was one-third my current population when I realized I was hungry.

That stopped me dead in my tracks. “Wait. Did you just tell me the threshold for you to be sapient?”

Yes.

Breathless, I reached up to touch my ear and focused as hard as I could. “Whoever is speaking in fractions out there, I owe you dinner.” I repeated it several times in a whisper, praying it made it through clearly. Finally, I turned back to Else. “The information you just gave us creates more options, Else. We can ensure you survive.” I stood and started pacing around the now-wiggling caterpillar. “If we remove you from our bodies, can you survive in a culture?”

Yes. There are several of me in cultures now.

Right. Grey’s tests. “If we removed you, placed you in cultures, would you promise to stay in the cultures and start reproducing again?”

I can, yes.

“Next step: Half of you in a nebula, to guarantee you would survive, and half on a planet? You could potentially be like Miys, and develop more individuals of your species without risking your sentience.”

Thirds.

“Not thirds, halves.” It seemed confused by the change in fractions.

Nebula, planet, Ark. Thirds.

Not as confused as I thought, apparently. “You want us to keep part of you on the Ark!?” I asked incredulously.

All options. One-third of me in a nebula, ensure survival. One-third on a planet, meet a new species. One-third on Ark, in culture, stay with humans. Absurdly, it wiggled even more, as though excited at the idea.

I repeated the proposal back to the Council and Miys, again praying they heard me. After several minutes of hoping in vain, I received nothing. Knowing that much more time was passing for them, if I hadn’t had a response by now, it wasn’t coming.

“I need to think this through,” I said aloud. “The Council agreed to taking you to a nebula OR a barren world… surely they would agree to both of those, no problem…. But they didn’t agree to you staying on the Ark, except in coldsleep.” I changed direction and paced clockwise this time. “They – we – also had no idea that you would be willing to stay in a culture, like some fish in an aquarium.”

Aquarium. I like that. Can I stay in an aquarium instead?

“On the scale we are talking, it’s basically the same thing, but please don’t push your luck,” I scowled at the wide-eyed caterpillar. That thing was just too fucking cute, which was decidedly not helping me.

Executive authority. Executive authority. I had the power to make this decision, but probably because they knew I would agonize over it. With a groan, I stopped in my tracks. “Else, if we let part of you stay on the ship, we need a guarantee of good behavior. Meaning, if you infect us again, you have to agree that we are taking that entire third of you to the nearest nebula or planet. Do you understand that?”

The caterpillar fucking bounced, like it was happy. Yes, I understand. And I agree to those terms.

I was going to regret this. I just knew it. Huge mistake.

“Welcome to the Ark, Else.”

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#the miys #aliens #original sci fi #humans are space orcs #humans are weird #apocalypse #science fiction #original work

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wishingforatypewriter · 5 years ago

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A Marriage of Inconvenience (Fantasy AU)

Summary: Lady Kinokuni Nene is introduced to her new betrothed, and she is generally unimpressed. (@polar-stars, I tried lol)

Nene stood placidly in front of the tri-fold mirror in her dressing room while her maid fussed with her hair and attire. She wore a gown of black velvet with a broad stripe of silver damask running up the center of the skirt and bodice. Her mother had said the rich garment would remind her new betrothed that he was to marry quality. But Nene, for her part, wondered whether the ruthless scion of the Eizan Bank would know quality if it bit him on the rear end.

“Lady, you must be pleased,” the maid, Mea, said as she fastened a necklace — a bulbous ruby on a thick silver chain — around Nene’s neck. “So many girls have dreamed of marrying the heir to the Eizan Bank, living a life of ease and comfort.”

“If anyone dreams of this, they’d do better to remain awake,” she replied monotonously.

This gave Mea pause, and Nene could tell it was taking her time to decide whether she should feel offended. “Are you not excited to meet your betrothed?”

“I am resigned to it.” She said this stoically, glancing outside her window at the carriage that would take her to meet her new intended.

She pulled up in front of the estate nearly an hour later and was received, not by her betrothed or his father, but by a hulking young man with queued dark hair.

“Your servant, Lady Kinokuni,” he said with a sweeping bow and an air of elegance she would not have expected based on his appearance.

“You must be Subaru,” she said, remembering what she’d had her contacts find out about the Eizans and their associates. “Your reputation precedes you.”

“As does yours, lady.” Subaru offered his arm, and Nene took it obligingly. As he led her towards the gaudy residence, Nene remembered the tasteful agrarian splendor of the Isshiki family lands and sighed. How far she had fallen. But if she remained steadfast, her household would ascend to greater heights than ever before. “Tell me. What occupies your lord to the extent that he couldn’t be bothered to come out and greet me?”

“Business, lady,” Subaru replied. “There are debts to the bank that go unpaid.”

They had only crossed into the hall when she spotted a young man coming down one side of a double stairwell. He wore a doublet of fine indigo over a stark white shirt, and leather riding boots over gray trousers.

He wore far too much gold about his person, but at the very least he was handsome—or would have been, were his face not marred by the tempestuous rage of a storm encroaching.

A man—a small-scale landowner from the looks of him—followed the Eizan heir on hands and knees, begging for mercy. “I have paid the principal balance, lord. But the interest—”

“The interest was part of the deal,” he said, his voice steely as the headsman’s blade. “If you cannot pay it, your lands will be confiscated.”

This made the other man break down even further. He grabbed at Eizan Etsuya’s ankles, head to the ground in supplication. “I beg of you, lord! My children will be out on the street! Just grant me a week more.”

“You will unhand me, cretin,” Eizan said. Then he glanced towards the doors, taking notice of Nene and Subaru for the first time.

“Mimasaka, there you are. Remove this person from my sight, and gather the men to appraise his assets come morning.”

“Yes, Lord Eizan.”

At this, the man seemed to be on the brink of a full on apoplexy. It was a more pathetic sight than Nene could bear. Wordlessly, she pulled the ruby from her neck and placed it in the hand of her intended.

“You needn’t be so barbaric,” she said, shaking her head. “This will more than cover the man’s debt, will it not?”

Eizan scrutinized it with a jeweler’s eye. “It will do.”

Nodding, Nene made her way over to the small farmer and helped him to his feet. “You may stand, sir. All shall be well.” She placed a gold coin into his hand.

“Blessed lady,” he said, bowing deeply. “You have my every thanks.”

“Be on your way. And if it pleases you, remember the House of Kinokuni in your prayers.”

As the man took his leave, Eizan Etsuya glared at her, then turned to Subaru. “You did not mention in your report that she was a woman of kindness and charity.” He spat the virtues out as though they were venomous.

“I am not,” Nene said, returning his sharp look with one of her own. “These are unstable times. The loyalty of those around us is more valuable than the odd hunk of silver.”

Eizan waved her off. “Bare sentiment.”

“A banker should be familiar with the concept of investment,” she said. “Because of what I did, that man will send his sons and nephews to fight in a war if I ask it. With your approach, he and his would flock to Totsuki and its allies the first chance they got—”

“If Totsuki makes a move—”

“There is no if. Senzaemon the Great has already married one of his granddaughters to the warlord king in the northlands. He sends emissaries to the Inui queen and her mage consort in the east,” she said, relaying the details of Urara’s latest reports from Totsuki’s capital. “When they march against us, we will need every available man.”

At this, Eizan Etsuya turned to Subaru, smirking. “Is this why her bride price was so damn high?”

“Yes, lord. I believe it is a combination of her intellect and family name.”

He nodded, then, gazing upon her again. “Good. I couldn’t suffer a stupid wife,” he said, smirking. “Is the hall to your liking, Lady Kinokuni?”

“It is not,” she said plainly. “The decor is expensive, but without taste. There’s too much gold and finery in plain sight, a common error of new money. True nobility is more subtle with its wealth.”

Eizan looked deeply vexed at the statement, as though he wished very much to shout at her. But instead he sighed. “Subaru, have the serving staff change the furnishings this weekend. Ensure that all new pieces are to Lady Kinokuni’s liking.”

Nene gave a small smirk at this. If nothing else, at least it seemed he could be taught.

#shokugeki no soma #etsunene #eizan x nene #fantasy au #wow...this ship...I'm kinda feeling it

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rwby-grimm-guardians · 4 years ago

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RWBY Grimm Guardians Arc 2: Beacon’s Fragile Light Ch VIII

Hey, everyone! I’m back! This is the eighth chapter of Beacon’s Fragile Light. This next chapter takes place during the tenth episode of Volume 2. Here, Weiss FINALLY finds out about her Weapon Spirit’s true identity. This is also the LAST chapter for Vol. 2. Next chapter, we finally begin Vol. 3.

ALSO, this chapter WILL be short, as it’ll focus mostly on Weiss and Arktis. I apologize if that displeases anyone.

Disclaimer: Still own nothing!

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(At Mountain Glenn….) To say that Arktis was now...well, contemplating over something was an understatement. The Weapon Spirits and Team RWBY, along with the newly accompanied dog, Zwei and one of their teachers, Dr. Bartholomew Oobleck were now in the abandoned town of Mountain Glenn for their mission. After exploring the ruins and fighting Grimm, night had come and now everyone was resting around a campfire, while Ruby and Summer stood watch….while Weiss, Blake, and Yang brought up what they wanted to do.

Weiss had ended up bringing up Jacques, her father and technically Arktis’s widow. ‘Guess I should tell her now, huh?’ The former heiress thought, before focusing her attention to her daughter. “Weiss…” The former heiress said. “May I...speak to you privately, please?” Raising an eyebrow, the younger Schnee nodded, walking with Arktis as the latter led them a few yards away from the campsite. “So, what do you want to talk about?” Weiss asked.

The older woman sighed, before sitting down, “You might want to sit down.” The heiress nodded and did so, waiting for Arktis to speak. The older woman gave a tired smile, “I have faith that you WILL be better than your father...and, hopefully, save the company and the Schnee lineage from ruin….” The white haired teenager nodded, “Thank you… Though you...sound like you’re hiding more than you’re leading on.” Arktis gave a tired chuckle, “Well, how about asking what it sounds like to you?”

Weiss moved closer next to the white haired woman, before saying, “It sounds like the whole thing with Father is personal for you.” “Well, it should.” Arktis said, before sighing. Her face went to a blank, yet tired state as she said, “Had to go through quite a lot of shit when I was married to him” Dead silence…. Arktis, while not directly, had just revealed her identity to Weiss. Now all she had to do was wait for, what she could guess, her daughter’s panicked reaction.

“Mom…?” Her daughter whispered and almost immediately, Arktis felt her throat tighten, causing her to bite her lip instinctively. The woman nodded slowly, her anxiety rising as she began worrying if Weiss was furious with what the elder woman did to herself, thereby, as Arktis would put it, “abandoning” her own daughter. “I...guess I shouldn’t be...too surprised.” Weiss said.

Arktis nodded slowly, “I suppose that is true.” After a bit of silence, Weiss shifted her position, before leaning her head against her mother’s shoulder, “You better still be here when I wake up.” A small smirk appeared on the white haired woman’s face, before she asked, “In what form? I have two.” The heiress glanced up at her mother as she said, “Mom. Please don’t ruin the moment.” Arktis chuckled, rubbing Weiss’s arm, “I know.”

After a couple minutes, Weiss’s quiet snore was heard, queuing Arktis to bring her back to camp, letting her use the woman’s legs as a pillow. Gambol, who had Blake sleeping against her, raised an eyebrow at the former heiress, “You two all good?” Receiving a nod from the white haired Weapon Spirit, the faunus smiled, “I’m glad.” The two then looked towards Ruby, who was still up thanks to Summer’s new abilities.

While Ruby was still awake, Summer was resting against her shoulder, letting her powers go on autopilot as she did so. Ruby gave a glance towards Yang and Ember from time to time, as well as the other members of her group, just to make sure they were safe. That is….until Summer fell to her side and began to slowly hyperventilate. “Yang. Ember. Come here quick…” The young leader said, her voice full of worry as the two blonde immediately got up from their positions and went over to Summer.

“Is she having a nightmare?” Yang asked. Ember tightened her fist, “I don’t know, but I’m not taking any chances.” As the blonde Weapon Spirit went to wake the red cloaked woman up, Summer gasped, gasping for breath as she sat up in a cold sweat. While her actions nearly made the three jump, Yang quickly began rubbing the woman’s back as she entered a coughing fit. “Are you alright?” Ruby asked.

“Not...really.” Summer said through her coughs. She then placed her hand over her heart as her breathing calmed down, prompting her to say, “Almost had a fucking heart attack. It felt like someone was TRYING to rip it out.” Ultimately, she decided to stay up for the rest of the night, letting Yang and Ruby sleep, while Ember kept an eye on the girls and Summer.

Zwei went up to Summer and whimpered in concern for the red clad woman’s health, earning a small smile and gentle scratch from the Weapon Spirit as the canine went to sleep beside both her and Ruby.

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Like I said, this was gonna be short, but I hope it was still enjoyable in the end. Next chapter, we finally begin Vol 3 and get into the juicy parts! See ya then.

#rwby #rwby ocs #rwby au #grimm guardians au #willow schnee #weiss schnee #ruby rose #Summer Rose #zwei rwby #rwby oobleck (mentioned)#ember celica #Gambol Shroud #rwby fanfiction #yang xiao long

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killervibe · 5 years ago

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Cold Sub Zero Heart Breaker (By Your Own Design)

So, of course, I had this giant big Valentine’s Day fic planned for killervibe that did not go the way I had wanted it to. So here’s my last-minute new fic to fill in for the months of planning I wasted. Oops.

Killervibe fic for Killervibe Valentine’s 2020!

I highly recommend listening to Frozen Heart by The Hawk in Paris. The fic title comes from its lyrics!

Rated: M

Summary: Halfway through his Korean fried chicken, Cisco licked the sauce off his thumb and acknowledged the elephant in the room.

“...Did you get….heartbroken?”

Frost scowled. “No.”

~.~

“Hey.” Cisco dropped a bag of food in Frost’s lap. “Got you something.”

She stared down at it, stunned. “I didn’t order anything.”

“I know.” Cisco shrugged, dragging a chair over.

He pulled out the takeout carton from his own bag, and the two ate silently together, their legs propped up on each other’s seat.

Halfway through his Korean fried chicken, Cisco licked the sauce off his thumb and acknowledged the elephant in the room. “...Did you get….heartbroken?”

Frost scowled. “No.”

Cisco blinked, taken aback. “—No?”

It seemed like it. Cisco wasn’t around Central City last Valentine’s Day, but he had heard the story from the rest. Frost was all over the holiday, dressed up in reds and cutting out paper hearts with crazy glue. He rose his eyebrows at Barry when he'd explained it all, not exactly able to say he’d seen that coming.

Today he’d gotten to witness it with his own eyes. Frost had begged Caitlin for the day, wearing red nail polish and handing out snarky valentines to their friends in Star Labs, humming The Beatles.

Or at least, she was.

In a quick turnaround, Frost had lashed out, tearing down the decorations and audibly gagging at Barry and Iris’ lovey-dovey cuteness.

Ralph tried to approach her a little over an hour ago, only to quickly retreat, telling Cisco her mood was beyond sour.

She had mellowed out after their meta fight, seemingly needing to have gotten her hands dirty, but refused to even talk or hear about anything to do with love. Now she was quiet, sitting at Caitlin’s chair in the Cortex. Sad, almost. It was a new look for her. Cisco had thought something must’ve happened.

“...Are you sure?”

Grant it, Cisco wouldn’t have a clue who Frost would be heartbroken over.

She threw her used napkin behind her.

“You missed the trash,” Cisco pointed out.

“So?”

Cisco swallowed. He had to choose his battles.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Fine!” She stood up, already ready to rant. Cisco’s eyes widened, not expecting to be given a front-row seat to a Frost lament. “I’m at Jitters, and they’re doing this 30% strawberry syrup special for all of their drinks. I order the Killer Frost with it—”

“Of course you do.”

“—And as I’m mixing it evenly into the drink, it hits me. It freakin’ hits me!”

Cisco leaned forward, arms resting on his knees. “What does?”

“I have no business participating in this heteronormative commercialized holiday bullshit! Screw February 14th! It’s a sham! Hot garbage!” Her hands misted at her sides. She paced the room. “You know what—Oh my god.” She stopped abruptly, as Cisco tried his best to follow along. “Here I am trying to live a life. Like, I’m fricken’ trying, right? Caity says I’m doing okay but I’d give myself a D on a report card.”

“Oh come on,” Cisco interrupted. “That’s not fair.”

“It is,” she snapped. “Because I realized the most—Ugh, stupid Debbie.”

“Wait.” Cisco frowned. “...Ralph’s mom?”

She nodded, rolling her eyes and threw an ice dagger at the wall. Cisco watched with growing concern, his plastic fork still hanging from his mouth as she closed her eyes and exhaled. She breathed, and the frost receded back into her palms.

“I’m chill,” she said.

“You good?” Cisco squeaked.

“Yeah. I’m good. I’m fine. It’s cool.”

“...Okay.” Cisco smiled at her, a little uncertain. “I’m glad I could help.” He looked down at the rest of his meal and popped the second to the last piece into his mouth. He glanced back at her, noticing the sudden silence on her part, and immediately stopped chewing.

Frost was looking at him. Like, right at him. Intimate eye contact. No break.

Cisco squirmed under her intense scrutiny. “What are you staring at?” There was still chicken in his mouth.

“Let’s have sex.”

Cisco almost choked. He heaved as chicken skin scraped down the wrong tube of his throat, banging his arm against the table as he scrambled for water. “—Why?”

“I want life experiences. Sex is usually an important part of life—”

“—Not for everyone!” he gasped out.

“And I’m trying to have some life experiences and Caity seems to like you so I don’t think she’d be too mad.” She paused, checking him out. “You’re not bad to look at either.”

Cisco has forgotten how to breathe, frozen still like a deer in the headlights.

Frost hesitated for the first time since bringing it up, her confident tone cracking. She wrung her hands, biting her lip. “Also, like. You like me, right? I mean you tolerate me, so.”

“Of course I like you,” he said automatically, a touch incredulous, and it came out softer than the volume in which he was thinking. His brain rebooted. Or maybe his heart. Something integral to his body reacted in defence mode whenever Caitlin had the slightest doubt of his love for her. Frost included. But this was a whole other level, holy frack. Cisco was going to have a heart attack. Like seriously. Those were heart palpitations.

He got up stiffly, excusing himself.

He breached to a quiet beach in Barbados, looked up at the blue sunny sky and screamed. A startled crab scurried away from the sand underneath his running shoes.

Cisco let out a breath, muttering to himself. “Okay. Okay. Okay okay okay okay okay okay okay okay.”

He breached back into the hallway, flicking back the hair from his eyes and casually walked back in, only mildly sweaty. He hoped she couldn’t hear his heart thumping away.

“Heeeey,” he gave her a pathetic wave.

“‘Sup.” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “So are we doing this or not?” She finally picked up her litter, stuffing it into her bra. “Look it doesn’t have to be you. I can ask Norvock. He’s my backup plan—“

“—Hell no!”

She seemed taken aback by his vehemence. “What?”

“You’re not allowed to ask anyone else, okay?” Cisco stepped closer.

“I’m not allowed?”

“Not Chester P. Runk. Not Norvock,” he spat out the name, mouth twisting in distaste. “Or that guy at the candy store you like from across the street.”

His fear was gone, the panic was over. Unexpected? Yes. Nerve-wracking? Oh, definitely. But he was so doing this.

Good lord, Cisco could feel the onset of a migraine at the thought of all the things that could go wrong if she said this to anybody else. What was Frost thinking? Snake eye? Ralph vouched for him last time he last appeared, but he remembered the way he leered at Caitlin in that bar. There’s no telling she’d be treated right.

If Frost wanted sex then by god Cisco was going to give her some good sex and she would not be getting it from any other means. Because Frost’s body was Caitlin’s body, and he could only guess Caitlin was taking a very deep nap to not be awake right now and intervene. So yeah. Screw that.

He jammed his finger at her, raising his voice. “If you’re going to be asking anyone for sex around here on Valentine’s Day, no less, it’s going to be me.”

Frost blinked down at his pokey finger for a moment, dumbfounded as Cisco seethed. She met his steely eyes, a pleased smirk pulling up at her lips. She had no idea how she managed to rile him up this way. She knew he was protective over her, but there was that and then there was this. Killer Frost may be a flirt, but she had no real experience with men. Even then, there was no denying this.

This was the exposure of Cisco’s layered jealousy over Caitlin or herself or both—who the fuck cared. It was amusing.

“So that’s a yes.”

“Yes, that’s a yes,” he shot back. He rolled back his shoulders. “I’ll see you at 8.”

Frost licked her lips. Somehow, Cisco was only a breath away. Their eyes had yet to look at anything else than each other. “Make that 9. I watch Wheel of Fortune.”

“Fine!”

❄️❤️❄️

It’s nine on the dot and Cisco had brought a basket of anything and everything romantic he could get his hands on. Roses, candles, chocolates, strawberries, condoms, wine, his Bluetooth speaker, bubbles, lingerie, breath mints, a mini radiator. Everything.

Frost pawned through the basket and took out the bubbles. “Why?”

Cisco yanked them out of her grasp, stuffing it back into the basket. “Forget those.”

She pulled out the thong. “Was this Kamilla’s?”

“No.”

She shrugged and ripped into the heart candy as he struck a match, setting down flickering flames around the room.

She watched as he scattered the roses around Caitlin’s bed. “Is this necessary?”

Cisco blew a strand of hair out of his eyes. “Do you want the Valentine’s Day experience or not?”

Frost didn’t really have a response to that. After a good amount of setting up the scene to look straight out of a Netflix romance, Cisco queued up a playlist and appraised his work.

“Dim the lights,” Frost said. The candles wouldn’t have much effect otherwise. Cisco did, and it became dark but for the glowing candlelight.

Frost removed her sweatshirt over her head and waited expectantly for Cisco to strip.

He took off his shoes and toyed at the button of his cardigan.

Frost climbed over to where he sat gingerly on the bed, unbuttoning the rest of it when his hands failed to continue. She removed the clothing from down his shoulders, and he shivered when her skin moved over his bare arms.

“Are you okay?” she asked him. It was gentler than he was used to hearing her talk. “How are we starting this?”

Cisco gave her a look. “I’m going to kiss you. We’ll start from there.”

Frost laid down, her silver hair flattening against her pillow as she stared up at the ceiling. “Okay.”

Cisco hooked a leg over her, still maintaining a considerable amount of space between them.

He thought it would be best to ease into it. Some touching, first. It was hard to just jump right in. It was weird how receptive Frost was being. Cisco’s mind floated away, thinking back to this afternoon. What did she mean exactly, when she had said he was not bad to look at. Did she like him, this entire time? It was...Weird. To think about.

Was that what this was? Frost has had her moments. She’s blunt, sarcastic, cold-blooded by nature. But she’s not unfeeling, either. There’s always been something about her motivations that had struck Cisco odd. She thought of things most people didn’t. She followed her gut and didn’t seem too scared to die. Not like the rest of them, at least. But even that was untrue. She was the flightiest of them all, the most explosive and unpredictable. And what was that from, if not from the unrest of her own self? It made Cisco wonder. And what the hell happened with Debbie? Should he even ask?

Frost’s eyes popped open. “If you're just going to hover over me like that can you at least change the playlist?”

Cisco frowned, interrupted from his internal monologue. “Do you not like Michael Bublé?”

She twitched her nose. “Not really.”

He sighed and got up, changing the playlist to an R&B track suggested by Spotify’s romance playlist. “Better?”

“I guess.”

They resumed their positions, Cisco taking the time to drink her in. There were so many ways she resembled Caitlin. Especially with her eyes closed. Caitlin would never wear the bold blue lipstick, but her face was all the same. Kind, soft. Gentle. Beautiful. He thumbed the side of her cheek, lost in reflection, running his finger over her lip. Frost stilled under his touch.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he murmured, leaning in.

He stopped millimetres from her mouth just as memories of Earth 2 suddenly bombarded his brain. He had prepared himself up to this moment the best he could that he’d be sleeping with Frost. But somehow it had slipped his mind that this was the same woman who could kill with a kiss.

“What?” she mumbled at his stalling.

“Frost…”

“What?”

“Have you ever kissed someone before?”

Her silence was concerning.

He pulled back, alarmed.

She sat up. “Once.” She winced. “When I tried to kill Barry. You threw me off of him.”

To quote John Mulaney, now they didn't have time to unpack all that.

“So you’re saying you cannot say with confidence this won’t kill me.”

“I won’t kill you,” she said. But she was lacking the confidence. Frost swore lightly. “This is ridiculous.” She grabbed his arm and pressed his wrist to her lips. Her mouth was cool, wet. But there was no ice in his veins. She raised an eyebrow as if to say see?

Cisco’s next words died on his tongue, eyes wide as she peppered kisses up to the crook of his elbow, almost aggressively.

He pulled his hand away and inspected it. Yeah, it was cold. The sensation tingled. But it wasn’t that bad.

“If it makes you feel better, you can avoid my mouth. We don’t need to kiss to have sex,” she said wryly. “I’m not a virgin.”

Cisco’s right eye twitched. “—Okay.” Compartmentalize. He frowned at himself. “Didn't you just say…?”

“It was never any good,” she muttered defensively. “Never with anyone who ever cared about me.”

Cisco softened, playing with her hair. He worried he was way over his head. “Then don’t you want to be kissed?”

Frost worried her lip, turning away. “I don’t know. Sure.” She tugged at the hem of his t-shirt, trying to undress him. “If you think it’ll be good.”

“Wait,” Cisco said. Something about this was off. Really off.

“What?” she whined.

He studied her. She stared back like it was just another ordinary spat in the Cortex at Star Labs. Cisco sighed, changing his mind. Frost seemed to be wanting to get over the chatting and move onto the next step already.

“Fine, let’s do this,” he said, and unbuckled his belt, helping Frost out of her t-shirt. He offered to help with her jeans but she waved him off, yanking her skinny light wash by the ankles herself until she was only in her underwear. He rolled over, thinking that this might work out better if Frost felt more in control. She straddled his thighs and reached into her bra to remove the used napkin from their lunch.

Cisco made a face. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that.” He was lucky he could even manage the snark.

It was hard to keep his breathing even. He’d never seen this much of her before, obviously. Her pale skin, her stomach, her creamy thighs. Silvery hair cascading down her back in waves.

She was paler than he’d thought. Her eyes had lost the spooky glow they used to take some years ago, and her voice no longer went two-toned, something Cisco was somewhat thankful for. He couldn’t imagine hearing her words bounce and echo off these walls. It made him uncomfortable, back when Frost first appeared. The overlapping layer, like Caitlin was trapped inside when Frost took over, speaking over her louder, colder, with more command.

Now, Cisco closed his eyes and he heard her voice. She was saying something, but Cisco wasn’t listening, Reevena’s Still Dreaming floating in from his speaker in low pulses. Her hands roamed down his shoulders, and chest as she explored and his goosebumps unsheathed.

He lost himself in the first kiss and grabbed onto her hair. It was kind of better than he’d ever imagined. Caitlin sighed into his mouth, moving closer. Cisco tipped his head back against the backboard, cupping her neck as he drew her to him. Caitlin’s lips and her body and her skin and her perfume tickling his nose. It was better than he’d imagined. It was everything he’d secretly dreamed.

Caitlin.

“UNCLE!” Cisco cried, shimmying out from underneath her. “Oh my god. I’m sorry, but, uncle. Frost. I’m sorry. I can’t.” He reached for his shirt, hastily pulling it back over his head.

Frost ran a hand through her tangled hair. “...Why not?”

She didn’t seem hurt. Confused, maybe.

It was hard for Cisco to explain it because he hadn’t been able to articulate the thought himself properly until only a few seconds ago. But the truth was simple.

He couldn’t do this.

“Look,” Cisco stared at the duvet cover. Ralph Lauren sheets, high thread count. On discount from the last Cyber Monday sale. He knew that because he was beside her when she added it to her cart on the website.

“Dreamy,” he had said with a tease. “You’ll sleep well.” She had laughed at the time. “I think we’re kidding ourselves thinking we’d be getting any actual sleep nowadays.”

This was Caitlin’s bed. Caitlin’s room. Caitlin’s apartment. And he knew Frost was a part of Caitlin. But, when it came to this? It didn’t matter —His heart panged. Frost deserved to be looked at when he said this. “I’ve imagined doing this before. More than once...The rose petals, the music. Valentine’s Day…”

Frost shot out a candle from her fingertips, listening.

“With Caitlin.”

“You do realize we’re basically two sides of the same person.”

“To you, maybe.” Cisco gave her a small, stiff smile. “Except you’re not. Not to me.”

He grabbed her hand. “I love you, Frost. I do. But it’s because I loved her first.” He searched her eyes. “And I have to know. I really need to know.” He bent down and scooped Frost’s red sweater from off the floor, tugging it over her head, mussing her hair. It stuck out all staticy, and Frost glared at his insistence of returning her to a modest state of dress. “Because you seem unsure of this yourself. What do you get out of this? Do you want me? And you never told me for sure, if Caitlin is okay with this. Like really okay with this.”

“She would’ve stopped me by now if she weren’t.”

Cisco tried not to think too hard about that. “And what about you?”

Frost didn’t reply.

“Because I can’t just do this,” he continued. “Have sex with you. If it’s not with her. And I can’t call it making love to you if it’s because you have no better option. This wouldn’t just be some holiday romp for me. And I don’t want you going elsewhere for this. But I think you’ll have to if it’s what you really want.” There was no more saliva in his mouth, but he said his piece.“Just please don’t tell me about it.”

She bunched the covers around her waist, covering her bare legs as she retrieved his basket. She broke into the wine, pouring out a glass silently and handed it to him over the messy sheets. He took the drink silently. Taking a careful sip. It was like she could tell he needed the drink.

“I think you're right,” she confessed after a long time. "It’s not what I really want."

“Oh?”

“I like the idea of Valentine’s Day.” She heaved a big sigh. “I like the concept of having this one great person, that means the world to you. But I like it for other people. It works for them.” Her shoulders drooped. “And I thought—maybe if I threw myself into it...I’d get it. Barry and Iris, Sue and Ralph. Joe and Cecile. There’s just you. And me….” She tilted her head, considering. “Norvock?”

“Please don’t bring Snake Eye into this bedroom.” It was almost a growl.

Frost snorted at the green in his eyes.

“Stop worrying about him. Really there’s just you. And it’s you because—Because it’s what Caitlin feels. And I can feel Caitlin. So I thought maybe...If I tried it, too…”

“Frost.” Cisco squeezed her hand. “It’s okay to not be interested in sex or romance. It’s okay if that’s just not you.”

She sucked in a breath. “I don’t think it is.”

“That’s okay.”

“Okay.”

"Okay."

Reevena crooned on.

Frost began to giggle.

He frowned at her, worried. Insulted? “Um.”

She covered her mouth, turning away to muffle her laughter into the palm of her hand. “I’m sorry,” she managed. “I just— I don’t know what I was thinking. Sex!? Making love!? With you?! Oh my god.” She sobered immediately at the look on his face. “I’m sorry, there’s a reason why I’m laughing. I’m not trying to be mean.”

He smiled at her awkwardly, he wasn’t sure why his heart was breaking. “I promise it’s alright.”

“No, because. I was feeling something. And I was acting on it. But it’s not my attraction.” She met his curious gaze and lowered the wine glass from his lips, putting it on the bedside table so that he’d have her whole attention. “It’s hers.”

Cisco’s mouth parted, but nothing came out. His face felt horrendously warm, and he could tell by Frost’s amusement that he was mad red. “Can I speak to her?”

“Yeah,” she said breezily, pausing for what Cisco could only guess is to talk it over with Caitlin telepathically or however. “I think I’ll be absent for every Valentine’s Day from now on.”

Before he could get another word out, Caitlin was blinking at him. Cisco wanted to very kindly melt into her floorboards. “Uhhhh….Hi.”

She stretched, digging her fingertips into the soft sheets, looking particularly unbothered for finding Cisco cozied up in her bed.

“Hi.” She tucked her brown hair behind her ear, eyeing the rose petals and bubble machine.

He knew it looked bad, but he had to excuse himself before this could continue.

The warm salt air of Barbados greeted him once again. He stood in his haphazardly thrown on cardigan and boxers in front of the stretch of the Caribbean Sea. Cisco assumed the crabs did not take his scream any better than the first time, but it was too dark to tell. The seagulls, however, were displeased, shrieking right back at him.

He breached back into her room, kicking at the overkill rose petals, and shutting down the bubble machine once and for all. “Sorry about that.” His voice was hoarse.

“Wow,” Caitlin said with a growing smile, glossing over his little disappearing act altogether. Maybe she could tell how desperately he needed it. “You did a number in here.”

It took a moment for Cisco to realize. “You were awake this entire time, weren’t you?”

“You’re crazy to think I’d have let this actually happen.”

He climbed back onto the bed, and Caitlin moved to make room. It was already so much better, easier. To be half-dressed and making a fool out of himself. As long as it was with her.

“Why?” He stretched back to lean against the pillows. He was aiming for sexy, but he’d take anything above cute. He winked at her. “Want me for yourself?”

Her eyes raked down his body appreciatively. It was slower, more deliberate than Frost had ever done. “Yes.”

Oh.

“If that’s okay,” she added. A bit shyer.

Cisco couldn’t speak. Except he had to. He had so many questions. And the way she was smiling triumphantly at him should be illegal. She held his face in her hands, smoothing out his gobsmacked expression until he smiled at her, helpless but to melt under her touch. The effect, she had. It was dangerous. So dangerous.

“Why?” he said again, his mouth working in contradiction to his brain, that had all but given up on asking. He turned his cheek into her palm.

Caitlin sighed and let him go. “I couldn’t just tell Frost. I had to let her come to her conclusions. And I trusted you. She trusted you. I wasn’t sure how this was going to go down either.” She blushed for the first time that evening, looking away. “And to stop and explain meant I’d have to tell you why she was so confused.”

She meant that she’d been suppressing her feelings for him so hard it leaked. What a fact. Cisco forced his brain to assemble back enough to think properly, setting that tidbit aside for later. “...Is Frost going to be okay?”

Caitlin nodded. “More than. She’s relieved, I think. And glad she discovered this with you. I’ve always suspected she was asexual. With her impulse control, she would’ve gone after someone by now if it weren’t the case.”

"What would've happened, then?"

Caitlin was slow in answer. "I guess we would have had to talk about it. I'm not sure."

“What happened with Debbie?” Cisco couldn't help but ask.

Caitlin made a clueless face, shrugging her shoulders. “Hey,” she said, tapping at his knee. “We can talk about Frost at some other time. It’s Valentine’s Day.”

The music and wine glasses and candles still scattered around had yet to serve as nothing else but a constant reminder to them. “That it is.” Cisco smiled at her. “I actually got you a card.”

“Forget the card,” Caitlin surprised him.

She scooted forward, dragging him upright to drape her arms around him in a hug. But it was intimate and warm, his heart beating against the thick material of Frost’s sweater. Caitlin tangled her hand into his hair, much like he had done with Frost, raking her fingernails gently along his scalp. He tried his best not to get drunk off it.

“Tell me what you told Frost,” she whispered against his neck.

There was a lot of incriminating stuff he’d said. “You’re going to need to be more specific.”

She snuck her hands underneath his sweater, tugging it back over his head. He was sure by now he looked like a wreck.

“Mhm.” She was busy kissing his collar bone. It seemed they wouldn’t be leaving the bed anytime soon. Cisco was pretty okay with that. “Something about loving someone first.”

He laughed, flushed. “Oh, that.”

"Yes, that."

“I love you, Caitlin,” Cisco told her.

She stilled in his arms. Cisco drew back so he could see her face.

“I love you. Caitlin.”

It must’ve been different—Hearing it now compared to when she was under. Because she held her breath, and curled her fingers into his sweater, pressing herself against his chest. He lowered them back down slowly. Caitlin was practically on top of him, soaking him in. The weight was nice. He could get used to this.

“How opposed would you be to making good use of your little sex kit?”

“It’s not a sex kit!” he blurted out with a gasp, scandalized.

Caitlin laughed. Loud and freely, wonderful. Cisco would make a thousand sex kits just to hear the sound again.

“Not opposed,” he promised and made good on it. “Not opposed at all.”

❄️❤️❄️

“Say it again,” he whispered in the morning.

“I love you.”

It was Caitlin’s voice, and her words and it was her lips he kissed thereafter. It was Caitlin’s breath that stuttered against his mouth and Caitlin’s lace bra that Frost had borrowed that ended up on the floor. It was Caitlin’s eyes, watching him adoringly and it was her smile that lit him up. It was her cheek, with pillow lines and it was her laugh he got out of her time and again.

#killervibe #the flash #killervibe valentine 20 #killervibe valentines #tkv fic #holiday fic #comedy and fluff

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lisinfleur · 6 years ago

Text

Sin

Author’s Notes | Sorry for being this late. I was really sick on Sunday and last night I was without electrical energy T-T But here it is! Late, but done! Enjoy! Special thanks for @bloodyivar for remembering me the rape trigger warning! Universe | Vikings Pairing | Ivar x Christian Num! Reader Info | Viking Age AU, requested by anon, queued for 5CW2 Words | 3253 ⁑ Warnings: ANGST, religious conflict, faith conflict, mentions of the Bible, rape, bad memories, and past abuse. +18. Caution is recommended: the following content may be triggering!

The heavy steps of a Norseman could be heard into the room, scaring all the ones they were keeping prisoners into that place.

As a former member of the royalty now dedicated to the services of God, you knew those Norsemen better than anyone else in that room and when the one with a long red braid said they wouldn't harm against anyone, you believed in him.

However, the younger leader of the army that invaded your monastery wasn't that peaceful when he came into the room.

"Is there any healer among you? Answer me!"

The women around were too scared to do more than just shrink trying to avoid what they believe to be a demonic man sent by God to punish the sins they thought they didn't have.

But you weren't afraid.

"I can help," you answered him, attracting the attention of the warrior who walked towards you, towering upon you, taller and bigger.

"Don't try anything stupid," he said, guiding you out of the room and closing the doors behind the two of you, leading the way through the halls you used to know so well.

The honey-haired man in front of you was looking nervous. But even then, you tried your chances...

"What will you do with all the others?" you asked, causing him to look at you and sigh.

"My brother asked me not to touch you. Any of you. We gave orders to our men to be away from you for this place wasn't in our plans and we just stopped here because of Ivar. So, as soon as you can make his pain stop, we'll leave." he answered, taking you to one of the rooms that were used by the nuns before those men invaded the place.

From inside, you could already hear the grunts of pain in a male voice. Noises that became higher when the man opened the door, allowing you to see the red-haired man from before, sitting beside the one they called Ivar on the bed.

The third one - a cripple - was sweaty and tense, grunting and panting in pain over the bed. He seemed to be in fever and his eyes were absolutely blue, surprising you a little.

"His eyes are very blue today," the red-haired said, coming near you "Whenever he's like that, his bones break like glass. He has broken bones in his legs and we don't have anything to care for it properly. You care for my brother. We'll leave without causing any damage." he promised again, over his younger brother's words.

Like his brother, that man was really distressed and you could understand.

Unlike the great majority of people of your kind, you knew the Norsemen were men, simple men, like all the others. Made of flesh and bones, with blood in their veins. They feel pain and could die like any other man.

And that one over the bed was dived in deep pain.

He gripped your wrist tightly when you touched the blankets to uncover his legs, but the older one touched his hand, speaking in their language something that made him let go of your hand.

However, when your eyes landed over his legs you sighed.

"You shall stay for a while."

Not one, but multiple times, the thin legs of that man were made into pieces! You could only think about the terrible pain he should be feeling and how fragile his bones were for being broken like that.

But you had the destinies of all those women in your hands, and you were really disposed to make things work for them and for saving that man from the awful pain he was facing.

"I'll need more help..." you started.

And the nervous honey-haired answered almost readily.

"We won't release more of you! We're no fool!" he said, clearly afraid you could lead a riot, using his brother's fragility to release the nuns.

You sighed. He was just worried... It was his brother in that bed.

"Hvitserk!" the older one called his attention and you looked at them.

"Hvitserk," you repeated, calling him by the name, "I'm (Y/N). And the help of those women won't change anything for me. I need your help. Strong men that can bring a bathtub into this room. Do you think you can provide this to me?"

His shoulders relaxed a little and he nodded.

"There is a tub two rooms to the right from here. Bring it to me. And warm water. You can find clean water at the end of the corridor, at the kitchens. Do you know how to warm it?"

He nodded again.

"Good. Bring it to me. I know how to relieve his pain," you said, going to the nightstand, picking up some specific leaves from the stock in the room and offering them to Ivar. "Chew them. It will help you to feel lighter and it will be easier to deal with the pain."

"Why should I trust you, Christian?" he asked, pushing your hand with the leaves away from him.

And then, the red-haired came again, touching his brother's hand.

"We have no choice, Ivar. She won't hurt you. She doesn't want us to kill everyone in this place." he threatened.

But you could see it wasn't coming from more than his mouth.

"I know you won't," you said, looking at them "But also, you're right, I'm a Christian. A nun. To lie would be a sin for me, to kill as well. Unlike the majority, I do as my sire and Lord taught us to do and I do the good without looking to who I'm doing. I help the ones who need help. I give food to the hungry and I bring relief to the ones in pain. It doesn't matter if you're a son of my Lord or a foreigner. This way told us our Lord: Come to me, all you who labor and are heavily burdened, and I will give you rest. This way I shall proceed," you said, parting the leaves in your hand and taking a small part of them into your own mouth, chewing them so the man wouldn't think you were poisoning him.

The other part, you offered to him once again.

Ivar took the leaves from your hand, starting to chew them while his older brother was looking at you, kinda surprised.

"You..." you started, looking at him.

"I'm Ubbe," he said, looking back at you.

"Ubbe... Are you able to lift your brother up into your arms? We'll need to put him into the tub. With some herbs, I might be able to make the pain bearable for me to put some wood and bandages that may keep your brother's legs immobile to heal the bone breaks."

"I do," he said, while Ivar appeared to be curious about the leaves you gave him.

"It's getting better?" you asked.

"What kind of witchery is this, woman?" he asked, causing you to giggle, smiling at him.

"I'm no witch. Before being a nun, I was a princess. And women from any places must know how to heal a wounded man, my lord. I was supposed to be married. Mother raised me to be a good wife. However, a terrible thing happened and my parents brought me to this place so I can live for our Lord and purify my soul from the sins I committed."

Not your sins... His sins... The sins of your uncle who stole your precious chastity and made everyone believe you seduced him into your bed. Confined into that monastery, you hadn't a say in your own life...

Through the years, you trusted that God would be able to take this burden from your heart. It never happened.

With time, even your mother stopped coming to see you and you knew your family was probably pretending you never existed... Covering their shame...

Something you could handle, right?

You became silent. Your silence made them curious.

The things you asked were provided and after a long bath in the herbs you prepared, with his legs immobilized by the bandages and wooden boards you used, Ivar was feeling better and almost painless.

"He must chew the herbs from time to time and I'll be awake to care for his fever. I suggest you sleep for tomorrow I'll need to take some rest and someone will have to care for him," you said to his brothers.

Hvitserk was appearing to be really tired and he took your suggestion readily.

Ubbe took a while to leave, but in the end, the sleepiness took him as well and he left the room warranting your companions would be safe.

In the morning, you would talk to them about the situation and ask the women to not to react. But this night, you were dedicating yourself to the care of that strange man.

"You should be sleeping," you said, exchanging the cloth in his forehead.

"What is a sin?" he asked back, looking at you.

"It's a crime. Something our Lord forbids us to do," you explained.

"How do you know what you can't do?" he kept asking, causing you to look at him.

You sighed. He was like a child, clearly looking at you with that expression that was telling he wouldn't sleep without his answers.

"There are rules in our sacred book called the Bible. There is the word of our Lord and he determines what's wrong and right. We must follow his commandments to live a straight life," again, you explained patiently.

"Your God never talked to you?" he asked, causing you to sigh.

You made your prayers every day, every night...

But not a single answer.

"Why do you wanna know?" you asked, looking at him.

"I'm trying to understand," he said, laying his back on the pillows, sighing "It makes no sense for me to follow a God that doesn't speak to you. When you need answers, where do you go? To a book with words pre-written?"

"Yes. What do you do?" you asked, looking at him.

"I ask my gods through the Seer. And they speak to me, through him, or personally," he answered, naturally.

Causing you to feel even more curious.

But then, the ask you were waiting finally came.

The one you didn't want to answer.

"What was your sin, woman?"

You looked away from him, picking up the bucket to exchange the water for some fresher.

"I had a man... Before I got married," you explained very superficially.

Hearing when he laughed of your crime.

"What? What is the matter about it?" he asked, looking at you "You had sex. And what's the point?"

"It's not right!" you answered, nervously "I was promised to my groom! When my uncle came, I... I should have..." tears formed in your eyes and you tried to focus on your chores, as always, trying not to think about that awful situation once again.

It wasn't good...

Why would you attract your uncle to such a horrible thing?

But your tone and the way you were shaking seemed to call Ivar's attention. And when you came back, he held your wrist that way again, almost forcing you to look at him.

"I wanna know... What really happened, Y/N?" he asked, firmly keeping the grip when you tried to pull your wrist from his fingers.

"Please!" you begged.

But he only held your face with his other hand, pulling your chin up, forcing you to look at him this time.

"Don't make me talk about this... I beg you, my lord!"

"You didn't want... Did you?" he asked, causing the tears to break from your eye line, rolling down your face.

This time, he chuckled disgusted.

"You're not here to purify anything. You're here to clean up his ass... Was he your mother's or father's brother?"

You shrank in your chair, distressed.

"My father just wanted the best for me... It was the only way..."

"I see many other ways to solve this problem... Tell me, how could it be the only one?" Ivar asked, annoyed.

"My groom found us!" you said, looking at him full of shame and sadness into your eyes "When my uncle forced himself in between my legs I screamed and my groom found us into my room... It was a shame to the whole family for my uncle told my father I seduced him. With my nightgown... And... My lower voice..."

You were sure you spoke low that night because you didn't want to wake anyone.

You never thought your gown was something sinful...

Ivar laughed again, causing you to lose your composure.

"It's not funny!"

"It is!" he answered, acid "It is funny that a bunch of men can really convince a woman her violation was her own fault! You did no fucking shit! Your uncle wasn't able to keep his dick into his trousers and blamed you for his own wildness!"

You covered your mouth, scandalized by his words so open.

But for the first time, someone was saying something about that night that wasn't sounding like a huge lie...

You never wanted what happened! It hurt you, it made you ashamed, it destroyed the marriage you were waiting for years... You never saw your uncle as more than what he was: your uncle.

You were raised for the marriage he took from you and since then, you were locked in that monastery, being treated as the family shame while he was freely walking through your father's castle alongside your sisters...

You felt his fingers in your chin once again and his eyes found yours, firm and fierce.

"If you were my bride? I would have cut his dick out for the audacity of touching what wasn't his."

Your groom accused you to be a witch...

He left your house in that same morning, saying now he could understand why your smiles were catching him so mesmerized...

The shame was too much for your family to handle...

There you were, locked for a crime that heathen was saying wasn't yours...

"But... I..." you was confused.

And Ivar didn't let it pass.

"Did you invite your uncle into your room?"

You said he should be sleeping...

"No..." you answered, remembering those moments one more time.

"Did you said he could touch you?"

You said he shouldn't be so close...

"No!" you answered, feeling the agony of his hands over you once again.

"Did you said he could come in?"

You yelled, begging for him to take out...

"No!" you pushed Ivar's hand away from your face, sobbing, feeling all that anger and pain into you once again, "I told him to stop! I begged him to stop! I said he shouldn't be in my room! I told him it was wrong! I didn't want to! I never wanted to! He forced me! It... It...."

“It wasn't your fault," Ivar said what you couldn't and you became silent. "That's why I don't believe there is really a Christian God talking through written words or metal crosses... If there is such a thing, where is this God to tell your father about your innocence now?"

You remained silent. And he smiled.

"That's what I thought," Ivar said, before laying his body back on the bed, sighing deeply and closing his eyes, appearing to be finally ready to sleep.

You spent that night awake, but not only because of his already inexistent fever. Your thoughts didn't let you sleep.

Why didn't your father let you talk and explain what happened?

Why didn't your groom heard what you wanted so desperately to say?

Why did your uncle lie?

And if lying was also a sin...

Why were you being punished by your uncle's sins?

You went to your bible, trying to find your answer. But all you found were words saying how impure the women were. How unquestionable were God's plans. The words of the Abbess also resembling your parent's words about how grateful should a sinful woman like you to be for God would forgive you and accept you among his nuns...

But what were you being forgiven from?

"What was your sin, woman?"

Ivar's question remained without an answer in your mind.

What was your sin after all?

The days passed and Ivar's legs were healed in few more than a month. As they promised, your mates were released and untouched and the dependences of the monastery were left without damage or stolen objects.

But they couldn't say they were leaving without any harm being caused. Your mind was broken...

And so was your faith.

You couldn't pray anymore. You couldn't find answers and the words in your bible were just more and more meaningless.

Through the days those heathens were there, you couldn't stop thinking about Ivar's words and that confinement that was only your salvation now sounded as an unfair punishment for you didn't commit any crime.

You were innocent and even then, three times you were stolen and denied by your God: first by your uncle who stole your chastity by forcing himself over you on your bed that night, then by your groom who stole your innocence by blaming you of things you never did, then by your father who believed them both and stole your freedom by locking you in that monastery, in a habit you never want to dress.

You dreamed to get married. You wanted to have children and care for a husband who would respect and love you. You never wanted to be a nun.

You wanted it pretty less now that you knew the truth...

Back to his leg guards, Ivar was straightening himself in the bench of his chariot when your voice sounded, surprising the nuns around you and his brothers.

But not him...

He was waiting for this, to be honest.

He knew, sooner or later, your confusion would lead you to this...

"Take me with you."

Ubbe and Hvitserk looked at each other and then to Ivar who was smiling.

"Are you sure this is your will, nun?" he asked.

Causing you to pull the veil, exposing your hair and breaking the habit and the vows when you disposed of that thing you were now so angry for being forced to use.

"And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free," you said, looking at him "That's the only line I can read now. That's the only word that sounds real to me. It wasn't my crime! Why shall I pay for mistakes that weren't mine? I wanted to get married, to have children! I would have been a wife, a mother! Why shall I be locked in this place forever when my dreams are not here? I know the truth! I want my freedom back!" you said, causing his smile to become bigger.

Ivar leaned himself towards you, extending his hand for you to come up into his chariot. And after you were by his side, he caressed your face, softly.

"Come, sweet Y/N. I'll give your freedom back, princess. And maybe I can give you more than your freedom. Maybe I can give you what your heart really wants..."

He softly touched your lips with his before clicking his tongue pulling the reins and making his horse start running away from the monastery.

Away from your prison.

And in the sweet flavor that he left in your mouth, you knew maybe your dreams would come true by his side...

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