#I am simply not going into the office until the light rail is fixed or I move. whichever comes sooner.

[essektheylyss]

The fact that there are GAPING HOLES in two major junctions of Seattle transit infrastructure at the same time is like, this is truly a functional city, you guys, we promise.

[cuquitalocita]

smile and lie- feysand

AN: no, this isn’t a part three to kids and car rides (BUT IT IS IN PROGRESS)-  i just had a dream about it and had to write it- hope you like it :)

~~

“So we meet again.” 

Rhys grinned at the annoyed-looking redhead across from him. There was no doubt in his mind that the man wanted to strangle him every time he saw him and Rhys wasn’t sure if he could blame him. 

Folding his hands behind his head, Rhys leaned back in the uncomfortable office chair and gazed at his principal. 

“How’ve you been Mr. Vanserra?”

“Worse and worse every time I see you, Rhysand. Worse and worse.” His principal pushed his chair away from his desk; Rhys tracked the movement with his eyes in silence. 

“Not that I don’t love our weekly chats, Mr. Vanserra- because I do. I absolutely adore them.” The man rolled his eyes as Vice-Principal Helion walked through the doors and sat in the seat next to him, both now facing Rhys. He should’ve shrunk under their gazes. His grin only grew. “But why am I here? Again?” 

Helion sighed, his head falling into his hands and running over his face in blatant frustration. 

“Tell me this, Mr. Knight. You are aware that there are other students at this school, correct?” Rhys raised his brows. 

“This is news to me.” Helion ignored him, continuing forward. 

“And because of this, I and other faculty members have other students- other issues to worry about, than you acting up.” Rhys grinned as Mr. Vanserra nodded his agreement. “From the first day of your freshman year, Rhysand, you have been nothing more than a menace to the faculty and teachers in this institution.” 

Rhys felt kind of offended. He knew Mr. Tarquin liked him- even if he pretended not to. And he didn’t consistently try to make life any harder for them than they had to be. Sort of. 

“Being a distraction in class, using the fragile and- might I add- expensive lab equipment to perform practical jokes-” Rhys snorted at the mention of his and Cassian’s joke sophomore year. In his defense, the sulfur wasn’t supposed to react that much. “...disrespecting your teachers, trying the patience of your coach, and now vandalism.” 

Rhys kept his face impassive. He swore the principal had some sort of grudge against him. Any minor inconvenience and bam- Rhysand Knight was to blame. To be fair, he was to blame for this. But vandalism was a harsh term for it. He and Mor had gotten bored after school the day prior and had found a few half-empty spray paint bottles.  

It had been a short Baudelaire quote, not a threat of murder, and the white paint had been barely visible with its awful quality. Rhys held back the roll of his eyes- of course Vanserra would rail him for this. 

He crossed his arms over his chest, his leather jacket stretching uncomfortably, and eyed his superiors with thinly veiled disinterest. He opened his mouth to respond. 

“Look-” Whatever bullshit he was going to spew about his innocence came to a halt as the door to the office breezed open, revealing an out-of-breath girl. The men in front of him turned their attention to her as well, and Rhys breathed a silent sigh of relief from the momentary break. 

He gazed silently at the girl in the doorway, sporting clunky combat boots and a denim jacket, both splattered with a variety of paint colors. Her cheeks were flushed and her chest was heaving as if she had literally sprinted to the office, and her blue-grey eyes immediately pinned him in place. 

She was pretty- beautiful, even. But she was a complete stranger to him. 

Rhys was sure her confused frown mirrored his own and the girl narrowed her eyes as Vanserra stood, folding his hands in front of him and clearing his throat. 

“Miss Archeron,” he greeted, tone cold. “Thank you for joining us.” 

She arched a brow, taking the seat next to Rhys’s own. She mimicked his own posture, crossing her arms in front of her and leaning back in her chair. Her boot tapped against the ground in a quiet rhythm. 

“My pleasure,” she replied, her tone holding more snark than it should, considering who was across from her. The only person Rhys was aware of who had the guts to speak like that to their superiors was him. 

But her voice was honey-sweet- it suited her. 

Still- he had no idea who she was. He tried not to turn to her as her lilac scent enveloped him and instead stared at the principal. 

“Now that we’re all here,” Helion took a deep breath and locked his gaze on the Archeron girl. “The two of you were caught vandalizing school property yesterday between the hours of three and four PM, using spray paint.”

If Rhys had water in his mouth he would’ve spewed it all over his principal as the words left his mouth. Yes, he had vandalized school property. Yes, it had been after school. And yes, he had used spray paint. But the girl sitting next to him had nothing to do with that. He hadn’t even seen her before now. 

It seemed she was thinking the same thing as she shot him a look from the corner of her eye, both of their gazes meeting in an amused, ‘can you believe this?’ Rhys was actually surprised the girl wasn’t glaring daggers at him for somehow dragging her into a mess she had no part in. 

Instead, she just watched the two men in front of her, her lips slightly parted as if in a silent laugh. Rhys noticed a small twinkle in her eye- a twinkle of amusement. 

Vanserra, however, did not find the entire situation amusing and slammed his palm flat down on the desk in front of them. Neither one of them flinched, instead meeting gazes again with intense eyes before turning back to the men in front of them. 

“I don’t know how things worked at your last school, Feyre. But here we don’t tolerate vandalism. It’s rude, destructive, and not to mention a federal crime. I’m not sure how you ended getting mixed up with Mr. Knight here, but it may be the biggest mistake you’ve made since coming to this school.” Rhys would have been offended if it hadn’t been the truth. 

The girl- Feyre, merely raised her brows until they scrunched together as he kept talking. 

“The two of you would be better off admitting to it now before we get the authorities involved. I’m sure the Velaris University of Arts would appreciate knowing exactly who they’re giving a scholarship to. Don’t you, Feyre?”

Whatever response he had expected to get out of her was rewarded with nothing more than the slight stiffening of her shoulders, which only Rhys could feel from beside her. 

What an ass. 

Clearly bringing up something that was important to her- and threatening to take it away for something she had nothing to do with. It must’ve been her hair, he realized. Although Mor was a bright blonde, the shitty camera quality could easily have painted her color darker, making it a golden brown like Feyre’s. 

Rhys was amazed at Feyre’s strong will. She simply stared back at Vanserra in silence, as if daring him to threaten her again. Helion finally sighed, looking at the teenagers with something like pity. 

“Look, you two. I understand that you’re young. And when you’re young, you start to make choices that seem fun because other people are doing it.” 

A sharp laugh shot out of Feyre beside him and she disguised it as a cough. Rhys found his own lips tilting into a smile. He placed his hand over his mouth to cover it as he caught Feyre’s eye once more, her blue-gray eyes glistened with knowing humor- his reflected the same thing. She had a beautiful laugh, and it had his heart flipping uncomfortably in his chest. 

Across from them, Helion cleared his throat. Vanserra was glaring daggers at the two of them and before he could open his mouth to say anything, Feyre’s hand flew to Rhys’s knee. She placed her hand there casually as if they were friends- or even something more- and did it all the time. He attempted not to jerk forward with the electric shock her touch sent through his body. 

What are you doing? Rhys asked her with his eyes.

Just trust me. She seemed to respond in a flash of gray eyes before turning back to the principal and fixing him with a disinterested gaze. 

“Look, you’ve got the wrong girl. I don’t know what time you have us allegedly vandalizing the wall, but I was at work all afternoon yesterday.” Now Rhys felt bad. He had accidentally dragged an innocent girl into this mess with him- and she even had an alibi. 

There was no way Vanserra would believe her, which only left Rhys feeling even more guilty. 

“Yesterday was my first day and I accidentally got lost walking by the football field. Rhysand saw me and skipped practice to walk me to work- that’s why he wasn’t there.” Rhys startled as the lie slipped easily through her lips. He had definitely not walked her to work yesterday. But she was covering for him, so he kept his face impassive. 

Vanserra’s eyes narrowed but Feyre looked unaffected. 

“You can check with my boss if you want. Rhysand was with me from three to… at least four forty-five. There’s no way he was the one you saw in the video. I’m not either, by the way. But again, you’re more than welcome to call my boss and confirm it with her. I’m sure she’d be delighted with your interruption.” 

Feyre’s fingers tapped a calm rhythm on his knee and Vanserra turned the color of his hair under her cool gaze. Rhys had to bite his tongue to keep from letting out a laugh. 

“Well, Miss Archeron, since you seem so inclined to prove your own- and Mr. Knight’s innocence, I may do just that.” Helion grabbed a pen and paper as the principal sneered at the two of them. “Her name?” 

Feyre grinned, her teeth glistening pearly white under the office lights. 

“Amren Cauldron.” 

Every bit of air seemed to be sucked out of the room as Helion’s pen stilled in his hand and Rhys swore his principal flinched. Rhys himself felt his own throat go dry and he attempted to keep his eyes from widening. 

Amren Cauldron was one of- if not the most terrifying woman in Prythian. She was practically a myth since Rhys was a child. The woman- or in most stories- the witch that lived in the corner of town-owned a small book store complete with strange spices and old relics along with books holding languages long since faded. 

A witch she might not have been. But scary and intimidating, not to mention mean? 

That she was. 

Rhys had seen her around town, her old age doing absolutely nothing to alter her terrifying exterior. She was unwrinkled and wicked, with her slits for eyes and cruel smile. 

She’ll eat you with those teeth, Cassian had told him one night when they were eight, hiding under the covers and telling scary stories. But there was no story to be told about Amren Cauldron. She was real, and she was scary, alright. Rhys still heard horror stories about her circling around school from time to time. He had even heard one last week. 

Rhys couldn’t think of a time he had heard a kind word out of her mouth, let alone heard her speak to anyone in town as a friend. Everyone he spoke to chose to keep their distance. Probably the smartest thing to do if he was being honest. 

But here Feyre was, working for her. And through all the myths of Amren eating children, Rhys gazed at Feyre Archeron and decided that he too could easily have a soft spot for the brunette. 

Feyre’s mouth tilted up to the side and she arched a brow. 

“Well? Do you need her phone number?” Feyre turned toward her backpack and began shuffling through it, one of her hands still burning a hole in his knee. “I know I have it here some-”

“That won’t be necessary,” Helion interrupted, his voice higher than it had moments before. Vanserra looked pale and cleared his throat, twisting his fingers on the desk in front of him. 

Rhys and Feyre shared an amused glance, an exhilarated blush dusting her cheeks. 

“We wouldn’t want to interrupt Ms. Cauldron at work,” Vanserra stated, glaring at the teenagers in front of him. 

The principals exchanged a silent conversation before turning back to them and sighing. 

“The two of you are free to go. Now that we think about it, the video was fairly blurry. It could’ve been anyone considering both people had hoodies on. For this reason- and for this reason, only, you’re off the hook.” 

Rhys and Feyre let out a collected sigh of relief. 

“But don’t think,” Vanserra interrupted. “That I won’t be watching the two of you. Vandalism is still a crime. Rhysand, I expect to see you at football practice every day this week.”

Rhys nodded his silent agreement. 

“And my scholarship?” Feyre pressed sharply. Rhys could tell Vanserra was holding back a roll of his eyes as Feyre’s gaze locked onto him. 

“The University will not be informed of this mishap. Your scholarship will remain fully intact.” Feyre smiled, falling back into her seat with a pleased nod.

“Well?” he snapped. “Out of my office.” 

The two teenagers needed no further encouragement as they grabbed their bags and practically booked it out of the office, only letting their grins show after they had turned their backs to the principals. 

By the time the door shut behind them, Rhys had managed to still his incredulity for the girl beside him. He still had no idea how he had never seen her before this encounter, and he knew he would have a hard time if he never saw her again

There was something about Feyre Archeron that intrigued him, and he knew- from the bottom of his soul, that she was something else. 

The two of them walked in silence through the empty halls, everyone still in the middle of their fifth period, leaving the hallways empty and eerie. But Rhys had always liked the silence- liked the solidarity in the middle of ongoing classes. 

He wouldn’t go back to class today. But he would show up for practice- just like he had promised. In the silence of the hallway, Rhys glanced at the girl next to him. 

Feyre’s hair was tied up in a ponytail and if Rhys looked close enough, he was able to see a small splatter of neon green paint by her hair tie. He hid his small smile. Who was this girl? 

“I haven’t seen you around before,” he finally said when the silence became too much. He had a feeling Feyre Archeron wasn’t the type to appreciate a ‘thank you for saving my ass.’

Her gaze snapped to his, gray eyes meeting violet before she gave him a small smile that almost had him floored. 

“You wouldn’t have. I’m new.” Rhys nodded. There was no way he wouldn’t have noticed her in years prior. He wondered just how long she had been walking the halls a stranger to him.

“Well maybe I’ll see you around,” he couldn’t keep himself from saying as Feyre stopped in front of a locker-her locker, and rolled in the combination, opening it to reveal a hot mess of clearly unfinished art projects. She took something out of her backpack and shoved it into the locker. 

“Not if you keep getting caught, you won’t.” 

“Excuse me?” Feyre shut her locker, the sound ringing through the empty hallway, and fixed him with a knowing look. 

“Never mind.” Feyre turned to walk down the opposite hallway but paused before reaching the threshold, turning back with a sly smile. Rhys ignored the pounding of his heart. “Nice pants, by the way.” 

He frowned, confused and unable to resist looking down at his pants. 

His jaw dropped. 

Rhys was an idiot. He hadn’t even bothered to check what jeans he had thrown on earlier that morning and had coincidentally chosen the same ones he had worn the day prior. The same jeans sporting splatters of white spray paint on the right knee. 

Rhys exhaled as he realized the explanation of Feyre’s earlier hand placement. She had been covering up the stain. Saving his ass- again.

He turned back to Feyre only to be faced with the back of her denim jacket as she walked down the hallway, leaving him in the dust. 

“Wait!” Rhys called out, hating how hopeful he sounded. What was he doing? He had never been this fascinated by a girl before. Feyre’s head whipped back around, her ponytail flicking her shoulder with the movement as she pinned him with a curious gaze. “What are your shift hours at Amren’s?” Whether or not he would actually have the guts to walk through the door was another story entirely. 

The smirk that curled on her lips could have been described as nothing less than purely wicked. 

“How should I know? I’ve never even seen the place.”

~~

yeah i think i’m only capable of writing high school feysand... 

@emikadreams​ (hope i did that right idk how tags work)​

[dropssofjupitter]

Red as the Dawn

Pairing: Dramione

Summary: It has been 3 weeks since Hermione Granger died in a freak accident at Malfoy Manor. Consumed by his own grief, Draco blames himself for his beloved’s death, and gives in to the destruction devouring his mind.

Word Count: 3.7 k

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, mentions of blood, arson

Masterlist

A/N: This is my entry for the Dramione Death Fest on A03 because I am, first and foremost, an angst writer. This fic has not been beta read. Any mistakes or inconsistencies are my fault and mine alone. - I accidentally deleted this fic when trying to edit it, so this is fun

Draco was in tatters.

He was erratic; slashing portraits, throwing plates, burning the hedges that bordered the walkway in front of the mansion. The house-elves avoided him, his own mother, for once, didn’t know how to calm him down.

He spent his days wandering through the mansion, destroying whatever the house-elves had fixed the night before. He went from room to room, upending tables, tearing curtains, ripping apart books.

Each day he reigned over his realm of self-destruction, and each day he paused before one door. He would walk up to it, determination draining from him with every step. Some days he would simply stare at it, and then move on, leaving it untouched. But other days he would let his hand rest on the doorknob, his forehead pressing against the cool wood, and let his memories take him away.

“Honestly Draco, I don’t understand why we can’t just put my study with yours. It’d be much simpler.”

“Because, Granger. Your workspace is absolutely filthy, and I don’t want that mess bleeding onto my side.”

Hermione scoffed, indignant. “It is not filthy.”

Draco stared at her, his hand resting on the doorknob to the room that would henceforth be known as Hermione’s study. “Ignorance is not a good look on you Granger,” he stated simply, opening the door and slipping through before Hermione could throw one of the numerous books overflowing in her arms at him.

She shuffled in after him, a retort that was poised and ready on her lips dying as soon as she saw the room. “Merlin’s beard,” she breathed out, turning in a wide circle.

A mahogany desk sat against one of the walls, a large ornate office chair seated behind it. On the desk sat a nameplate, perched towards the edge and accompanied by fabulously extravagant bookends. Parallel to the desk was an entire wall fitted with four wondrously large bookcases, two of which had already been filled with research books, journals, and memoirs that had previously been in the Malfoy library. Illuminating the entire room was a wall filled top to bottom with windows. Enchanted ivy climbed them from the outside, and multiple house plants hung and floated around the windows. Assorted chairs, benches, and even a couch decorated the remainder of the study, all enchanted to immediately conform to the users body.

Draco would never admit it to her, but he had taken weeks out of his schedule to personally design the study. He had haggled with construction workers over the prices of installation, and had even acquired his mothers help in absolving some of the blood curses placed upon the books that now filled the room.

“Do you like it?” he asked cautiously, hands clasped tightly behind his back in order to hide the nervous twisting of his fingers. His eyes bounced between her eyes, to her hands, to the books about to fall from her arms, and then back to the look of awe on her face. He would do anything in his power to make sure that she always looked as wonderfully happy as she did right now.

“Do I like it? Draco, its stunning!” She replied, a soft, incredulous laugh slipping from her lips.

He nodded his head, looking around the room. “It’s alright.”

She looked back at him, a bright smile lighting up her eyes. “Thank you, truly.”

His heart skipped a beat. His hands stopped twisting. A smile snuck its way onto his face despite his better judgement. “You’re welcome.”

“Draco, darling?” Narcissa called, her hand placed delicately on the staircase railing. “Are you alright?”

Draco’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing and his lips turning into a snarl at the realization that he was interrupted once more. His hand left the door, and he turned sharply on his heel, walking swiftly past his mother in a swirl of black cloaks. “Perfectly adequate,” he replied with a sneer, returning with vigor to his previous path of destruction.

Narcissa sighed, her eyes looking forlornly towards the study. In the background she heard a crash echoing out from the living area. She flinched, hand inches away from the handle, and moved on.

~~~

Draco paced the halls of the manor like a caged animal. He walked, up and down, left and right, until he had patrolled the entirety of the manor over 20 times. Then he moved outside.

His feet slowed, ever so slightly. His breathing evened. And the feeling of an unknown pressure against his chest lifted, just a little. Here, he was free from the endless onslaught of memories. Here, he could relax and relent under the night sky.

His feet led him to the maze that decorated a small portion of the yard, his hands outstretched and brushing against the hedges as he passed them. He inhaled, deep and pure, and let his body carry him to the center of the maze.

There was a small stone bench in the middle, weathered from years of sitting stationary upon the ground. A pond bubbled nearby, magical fish of every variety content to swim in its waters.

Draco sat down on the bench, the tension leaving his body as he tilted his head up to look at the stars that littered the heavens. He closed his eyes, a soft smile perched treacherously on his lips. And then his heart twinged with a memory, and his peace was ruined.

“Draco keep up! You’re going to miss it!” Hermione called out, already yards in front of Draco as she ran frantically through the maze.

“Really Granger, is it that important?” Draco called back, feeling a laugh bubbling to the surface as he watched Hermione get swatted by an overgrown hedge.

“Oh just come on you twat!” She replied, a laugh slipping from her lips as well.

Draco turned the final corner, a goofy grin chiseled onto his face as he took in the scene before him.

Hermione had a muggle telescope set up to the side on the bench, already pointed at the sky and calibrated correctly. Astrology books lay strewn haphazardly around the mini safe haven, and a blanket was laid across the grass no more than a few feet away. She stood behind the telescope, bent at the knees as she peered through it.

She glanced up, her smile returning as she saw Draco. She waved him over to the telescope, excitement seeming to exude from her very being. “Well come on!”

Clasping his hands behind his back, Draco sauntered over, walking as slow as humanly possible.

Hermione, seeing this, waved her arms in exasperation and ran behind him, placing her hands on his back in an attempt to push him forwards. “You absolute prat!”

A deep, low chuckle escaped Malfoy’s mouth as he turned his head to look at her. “Why Granger, whatever do you mean? I’m walking as fast as I can!” He placed one of his hands on his chest and looked at her, appalled. “Are you claiming me to be a dishonest man?” he asked, incredulous.

“Well, I’m certainly not calling you an honest one!” she retorted, still hopelessly attempting to push Draco closer to the telescope.

He laughed again, relenting and continuing willingly towards the contraption. He hummed, contemplating his actions before bending down and peering through the eyeglass. “I don’t see what the excitement is about, honestly. It’s just the sky. We’ve seen it hundreds of times in - oh.” Draco’s thought was cut short as the stars began to rain down, trails of wispy ethereal light painting the inky blackness of the sky in their wonder. He moved away from the telescope, his head instead tilting up to look at the sky without the object’s assistance.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Hermione breathed out, her eyes trained on the sky as well.

Draco looked over at her, his heart beating erratically against his chest as a soft smile creeped onto his face. He watched as the heavens fell in her eyes, as her beauty built cities in his mind and tore down any deities previously known to man. He watched, helplessly, hopelessly, as he fell for her. Mind, body, and soul. “Yeah,” he breathed out, hands itching to intertwine themselves with hers as he watched her face light up. “It is.”

Draco opened his eyes, once again staring up at the stars that littered the heavens. He felt a now familiar ache return to his chest as tears began to blur his vision.

“You always were able to see the beauty in everything,” he whispered to himself, eyes wandering down to the corner of the stone bench. His hands ghosted over the initials carved there only weeks before. H.G. Hermione Granger. “Even in a monster.”

He felt a stray tear begin to slide down his cheek, and he quickly wiped it away, standing abruptly and walking towards the exit of the maze. Before he left, however, he turned. Gazing upon the place that had been so painful for him to exist in. Without a second thought, he lifted his wand, eyes staring at the cursed stone bench as he set the haven on fire.

He saw his mother run out of the mansion moments later, collapsing to her knees as she saw the destruction that her son had wrought, saw his true nature. He walked past her, pausing just behind her, and turned his head. She looked back at him, tears in her eyes along with an emotion that caused Draco to grit his teeth in anger. Pity.

He didn’t want, nor did he need his mother’s pity. He turned sharply, walking back into the darkened mansion and slamming the door behind him. Let her watch the wretched garden burn. Let her inhale the ash with every cry, and scream for the house elves as she desperately tried to put out the flames that he had created. He was done receiving her pity. And he was done avoiding his own.

With his anger rising and his emotions high, Draco stalked up to the study that he had avoided for so long. A concentration of magic that Draco hadn’t even known existed within him burst towards the door in his high emotional state and knocked it off its hinges. Without a second thought, Draco stepped into the room.

His mind went blank. His eyes took in the room, a thin layer of dust covering the objects. He saw photographs of him and Hermione decorating the walls, pictures of her parents, the plants that she had meticulously cultivated for so long in order to test their in a new sleeping drought. His eyes roamed over the bookcases, overflowing with double and sometimes triple stacked books, scraps of parchment sticking up from where she had found something of note in her research. Quills were set about in no particular order in the room, essentially guaranteeing that she would be able to have one handy at all times, just in case.

Draco inhaled, and his face crumpled. It still smelled like her.

The intoxicating scent of honeysuckle and cedar that he had come to know so well was stuck in the room, circulating over and over with nowhere to go. It filled his senses, overwhelming his mind and making everything else . . .muddled. He tried to take a step backwards, but his legs were weak. He stumbled.

His eyes slid over to her desk, and his breath caught in his throat.

A letter was perched on the edge of it, caught in between the two bookends that he had gifted her long ago. His name was written on the front in her messy handwriting. Hesitantly, he reached out towards it, his fingers smoothing back the folds in the envelope as he stared at it. Had this letter been here for him this whole time?

He flipped it over and was face to face with the glaringly red seal on the envelope. He dropped it.

Draco looked down at her body, convulsing on the floor. Red bloomed on her stomach, spiraling and twisting in intricate patterns as it soaked through her clothes. He had said many times that Hermione looked ravishing in red, but not this kind of red. This red was hot, and dark, and sticky. This red drained the color from her face every time it grew more vibrant.

He rushed over to her, falling to his knees and sitting in the puddle of her blood that had harrowed him so. His mind was racing, or was it numb? He couldn’t tell. He pulled out his wand and hoarsely spoke a healing spell. “Vulnera Senentur.” Nothing happened. Frantic, Draco tried it again, his voice stronger now. “Vulnera Senentur!” Nothing.

Hermione weakly opened her eyes, moving her lips in an attempt to speak.

“Shh,” Draco hushed her. “Save your strength Granger. You’ll be at St. Mungo's in no time.” His thumb caressed her cheek as he turned his head towards the door, calling for his house elf. “Winky! Winky I need you!”

Desperation filled his being. He couldn’t apparate her, or he would run the risk of splinching her. None of his healing spells or diagnostic checks were working. He didn’t know what to do.

Hermione raised her hand, wincing as she placed it on one of his arms. Her mouth moved again, and a hoarse whisper of his name escaped.

He looked back over at her, leaning his head down and touching his forehead to hers. “It’s okay Hermione, it’s going to be okay. Can you tell me what hurt you?” He shifted his weight, slowly and cautiously dragging her body into his lap. One of his hands ran over the cut in her stomach, and he grimaced.

“Draco. .” she whispered again, her hand moving steadily up his arm until she was able to cup his face. Her lips curved up in a small smile and she dragged her thumb over his cheek.

He leaned into her touch, looking down at her with hot, angry tears in his eyes. “Don’t you dare say it Granger. Don’t you dare say goodbye.”

“We both. .” she inhaled sharply, and it sounded wet and coarse. The cough that followed caused a small splatter of blood to find purchase on his shirt. “We both know that I’m not getting out of this alive.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he replied, his voice wavering as his own hand reached up to wipe the blood off of her chin. He cleared his throat, hands shaking as he gingerly held her face. “You’ve gotten out of worse scrapes than this. Bloody hell, you had Potter and Weasley for friends, the amount of pure chaos that follows those two should have gotten to you long ago.”

She laughed, her face growing paler by the second. “I’ve always been curious,” another deep, shuddering breath, “you know? I mean, this is the one question that I’ve never been able to answer.” She paused, and it almost looked as though she was staring past Draco and up at the ceiling. Her eyes were unfocused, her hand fell slightly on his face.

He brought his other hand up to hers and held it against his cheek, knowing what she wanted, and knowing what she deserved. She deserved an answer that would make her happy, that would make her peaceful. She deserved an answer that held just as many mysteries as the question, and one that was just as fantastical as the world she had been brought into.

“I. .” his voice caught, and he cleared his throat again, tears falling from his eyes. “I always liked to think that we never actually die. That our magic just gets passed on to some new witch or wizard. Someone like us.”

Her eyes focused back on his face, and her smile seemed content now. “I’d like that,” she said. Her voice was weak. Her breathing was shallow. Her hands and face were growing cold to his touch. “Maybe,” another wet cough shook her body. “Maybe our magic can find each other again. Like soulmates.” Her smile was shaky, and her eyes were beginning to shine with tears.

“Draco,” Hermione said, her thumb weakly running over his bottom lip. “Thank you for showing me what it’s like to be loved.”

And then she was gone.

Her body went limp. Her hand fell from his face. Her eyes, once filled with an undeniable brightness and eagerness to learn and solve and question, were dull and void.

“Hermione?” Draco called out, his voice breaking. His hands were shaking. He was frantically running them over her face, her hands, trying to elicit some sort of response from her.

“No... no no no no.” Tears were streaming down his face as he picked up the wand that he had discarded earlier on the floor. He dropped it twice before he was able to properly hold it, and even then, his hands were shaking too much to perform the wand work required for the diagnostic spell.

Frustrated, he threw it across the room and gathered her body in his arms. He leaned down and touched his forehead to hers, willing for her to open her eyes and lecture him over the proper way to stir a wolfsbane potion, or to hit him and call him insufferable. To do anything.

“Please,” he whispered. “Please I . . I can’t . . I don’t know what to do without you.”

Draco hadn’t realized it then, but he knew it now.

When Hermione had died, he’d died with her.

He looked down at the letter on the floor beneath his feet, and stooped down to pick it up. He flipped it over in his hands, looking once more at the bright red seal. The image of Hermione, on the ground, covered in her own blood came back to him, and he closed his eyes, gripping the letter in his hands like a lifeline.

Even if it hurt him. Even if it somehow caused him more pain than he was already feeling, he had to know what she had written to him.

Carefully, he opened the letter and unfolded the parchment, his eyes watering as he scanned the page.

My heart,

I had hoped that you would never receive this letter, and never have to feel the pain that you are going through right now, but alas, it seems inevitable.

I suppose that I should explain what this is, though I would wager that you have already guessed. Upon my death, however likely or unlikely, I had arranged for a letter to be sent to you. I updated the letter weekly, of course, to keep things recent and up to date. However, lately, I have been writing a letter to you every day.

It’s not necessary, in fact it’s far from that. It’s . . well I suppose it’s simply because I don’t entirely know how to fit everything into one letter. If you wish to read them, they should be stashed in the top left drawer of my desk.

On to the main purpose of this letter. To put it simply, I love you.

I’m not exactly sure when it happened if I’m being honest. Whether my affections began when we were forced to work together for a project in the Ministry, or when you had somehow memorized my caffeine schedule so thoroughly that it no longer surprised me when you brought me my morning coffee. But it happened.

I imagine that this is of no shock to you, considering that we are currently engaged, but I also know that you don’t hear the words enough. And I know that you doubt, every day, whether or not I will finally ‘come to my senses’ as you have put it before, and leave you for something or someone else.

If it wasn’t already evident, let me put it more clearly. I am yours, Draco Malfoy. Body and soul. I have been and always will be. I love you more than you will ever know, and more than I would ever care to admit.

And if I know you well enough, which I do, I know that you are blaming yourself for whatever has happened to me. Please, for your mother’s sake, mine, and your own, don’t. Know that I could never, ever, blame you for anything that has happened to me.

You are the one mystery in my life that I will never get bored of, the one puzzle piece that finally completes me, the one constant that I never want to change.

I can guarantee you. In my last few moments, all I will think about is you and the happiness that you have brought me. I will relive our first kiss, and your proposal. I will relive the day that I moved into the Manor, and that tea that I had with your mother where she showed me your baby photos.

And if I am so lucky, you will be there with me. And I will get to see you one last time. I will get to memorize every feature of your face, and your temperamental eyes. I’ll be able to run my hands over that scar on your bottom lip, and tell you how much you mean to me.

But most of all, I want you to learn how to be happy again. I want you to smile when you remember me, and correct my work when you go through my research. I want to be remembered as I am.

All my love, and so much more,

Hermione

Draco smiled weakly as he finished the letter, his legs finally giving out as he collapsed onto the floor.

He heard footsteps behind him, and moments later his mother’s arms wrapped around his shoulders. “It’s like she never left . .” she murmured, tears falling down her cheeks.

He looked up at the study once more, taking in the piles upon piles of research and notes and musings that covered the room. There, in that moment, in that place, he swore he could hear Hermione laugh at something snarky that he had said, and feel her hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t think she ever will.”

.

.

Add yourself to my taglist!

[naralanis]

Edges

A Replicant!Lena AU because am drunk. Little bit. And watched that movie like last week. Anyway.

also on AO3

“Do you like our owl?”

The voice comes out of nowhere, and admittedly scares Kara enough that she startles the bird in turn, sending it flying in a flutter of beating wings and displeased hoots/  

Her eyes follow the owl's trajectory through the opulent waiting room, up until it lands a bit ungracefully on a perch by the door she had come through. There's a woman there now, impeccably dressed and a prim, severe demeanor. Her jet-black hair is pulled tight into a ponytail; her eyes are a captivating green, and there's a full, manicured brow raised in question.  

“I do,” Kara says, clearing her throat and not looking at the bird at all. “Is it real?"

A little smile tugs at the woman's wine-red lips, and she lets out a soft chuckle. “Of course,” she says, as if the question is entirely absurd, green eyes shimmering in the light. “Do you think Mr. Luthor would have a fake owl in his waiting room?”

Kara shrugs. “Must have been expensive.”

The woman's smile widens. “Incredibly so,” she quips, motioning to the door. “If you would follow me, Ms. Danvers; Mr. Luthor is ready for you now.”

“Right, right, thank you,” Kara says, reaching for her briefcase and hastening to follow. “Thank you, Ms...?”

The smile turns into a smirk, as if the woman seems to be enjoying playing with Kara as the blonde quickens her pace to follow after the echoing click of her heels. “Luthor,” she says cheekily. “But you can call me Lena.”

Kara almost stops dead in her tracks; she has to make a conscious effort to keep following after her. “Luthor?” she repeats dumbly, unable to conceal her surprise. “Are you a relative of Mr. Luthor's?”

“His sister.” 

Kara has to process that information for a second; none of the files she had been given on Lex Luthor mentioned any living family, especially not a sister.  

“I didn't know Lex Luthor had a sister,” she admits.

There's a twitch to Lena's upper lip, but it's gone in the blink of an eye. “I prefer to be... behind the scenes, so to speak,” she says. Her gaze abruptly turns to Kara, and yet her steps do not falter for even a moment. “Tell me, Ms. Danvers, have you been a Blade Runner long?”

Kara's brows furrow before she can help it. “For some time.”

“You must have retired quite a few Replicants.”

It wasn't a question, and Kara was not sure if she should treat it like one. “Some,” she said simply. She has never particularly enjoyed her job; it was just one of those things that had to be done, and something she happened to be more than competent at. Nothing more.  

“What are your thoughts on them?” Lena presses on.

“Replicants?” Kara asks. The line of questioning throws her for a loop. “I have no thoughts one way or the other; they're... machines, for good or for bad.”

Lena nods, though her expression is unreadable. “And if they're... not good, it is your job to retire them.”

That was definitely not a question, Kara thinks. “Yes.”

“You must be quite good at spotting them.”

That also isn't a question, but Kara cannot think of a response before they reach an impressive set of heavy doors that look to be made of real wood. If Luthor has a real owl, it stands to reason that these would be real wood. Lena stops right at the threshold, shooting Kara an odd look that the blonde cannot process immediately, because they walk into a spacious office, and there, at the end of a long conference table, sits the man, the legend himself, in all his glory.  

“Kara Danvers,” Lex Luthor greets them jovially, in a cheerful voice that inexplicably sends a chill down Kara's spine. “Thank you for showing her in, Lena.”

Lena gives him a polite nod, not leaving her post by the doors.  

“Mr. Luthor,” Kara says, already reaching a hand out for him to shake, wanting to get this over as soon as possible for reasons she cannot presently fathom. Something about Lex just rubs her the wrong way, and she tries not to let that show as he approaches and shakes her hand. “Thank you for taking the time to see me, I understand you're quite a busy man.”

He grins, and Kara doesn't like it one bit. “Please, call me Lex. Of course, of course, anything I can do to help.”

Kara squares her shoulders, getting right down to business. “Well, Mr. Luthor—Lex--as you know, we'd like to establish a few baselines for your Nexus-6 model to help us with an ongoing investigation. I was hoping to...”

“All in good time, Ms. Danvers. Patience, patience. I'll help you with your little investigation however I can—if you can answer a few questions of mine first.”

She has to fight the uncomfortable feeling that manifests in the pit of her stomach. She's dimly aware of Lena's green gaze fixed on her and Luthor, interested, curious.  

“That little test of yours... capillary dilation of the so-called blush response? Fluctuation of the pupil, involuntary dilation of the iris?”

“We call it Voight-Kampff for short,” Kara says, brow raised in question.  

“I must admit I am rather curious, Ms. Danvers. Tell me, have you ever retired a human by mistake?”

“No,” she says quickly. “Mr. Luthor, what exactly is the purpose...”

“But it is a risk, in your profession,” he interrupts. “Is it not?”

Kara frowns. “What is your point, Mr. Luthor?”

Lex's grinning sets her teeth on edge. “The Nexus-6 is the pride and joy of my corporation, Ms. Danvers—the most advanced model ever put on the market. And yet, they still have flaws—fatal flaws, that caused the ones you're hunting to go... off the rails, so to speak.”

He seems to take Kara's silence as encouragement to keep going, and does just that, pacing in a way that unnerves her. “You see, they lack certain capabilities, certain... nuances that you and I are privileged to possess that we simply have not been able to reproduce artificially. Empathy, emotional maturity. They are, I hate to say it, woefully underdeveloped in that regard.”

“I am well aware, Mr. Luthor,” Kara interjects, annoyed that this man—a genius though he may be—is speaking to her as if hunting down those machines wasn't literally her job description. “That's why they have a failsafe.”

Luthor nods, and his expression remains unreadable, even if his unsettling smile is still very much in place. “Yes,” he confirms, stopping and holding the back of his chair. “The four-year lifespan. Tell me, Ms. Danvers, have you ever performed your little empathy test on a human subject?”

“No.”

His grin grows wider. “Lovely. I would love a demonstration, if you would be so kind to indulge me.”

Kara frowns. “Mr. Luthor, I'm here to acquire a new baseline for the Nexus-6 models so as to better understand...”

“Yes, yes, I know,” he waves her off. “I won't stop you from doing your job, Ms. Danvers. I would simply like to see a negative result before I provide you with a positive one. Is that agreeable?”

Kara feels her knuckles tightening around the handle of her briefcase; she wants this to be over.  

“Very well. I assume you will be the subject, Mr. Luthor?”

His eyes glimmer in a way that makes Kara's stomach turn. “Try Lena.”

Lena seems just as surprised as Kara feels at the suggestion, but does a remarkably better job of hiding it and regaining her composure. The clicking of her heels approaches immediately after Lex summons her, and her expression is completely neutral by the time she takes a seat at the table.  

The brunette eyes Kara with a raised brow breaking her schooled expression, looking almost forcibly nonchalant. She pulls out a cigarette as Kara takes her time unloading and setting up her equipment, still very much aware of Lena's watchful green gaze.  

“Do you mind if I smoke, Ms. Danvers?” she asks, and it sounds almost teasing.  

The machine whirrs to life, and Kara contains a heavy sigh at the unshakeable feeling that she has walked straight into a trap of some kind.  

Her gaze locks onto Lena's hypnotizing green irises, and she flicks the button to start.  

“It shouldn't affect the test.”

~page break~

Kara's back is sore from leaning into the Voight-Kampff apparatus, and her eyes sting from the strain of looking through the visor for so long. It feels like hours have passed, but she's afraid of actually checking the time. She shuts off the machine with a strained huff as she rolls her shoulders and arches her back, feeling her spine pop pleasurably at the stretch. She blinks away the strain and dryness of her eyes, taking her time to sink back into her chair, and tries to give her mind a few precious extra moments to fully comprehend what she has just uncovered.

Lex had not moved a muscle during the entirety of the test; he's still sitting unnaturally still by the time Kara shuts off her equipment. Lena eyes her curiously, lips pulled into a taut line.  

“Lena, if you would please excuse us a moment.”

Kara deliberately looks at her equipment, putting it away methodically and slowly, but for a moment she catches a hint of displeasure that flits across Lena's face at Lex's command. The brunette hesitates for only a second, but complies. Kara's heart beats in tandem with the fading staccato of Lena's heels, and once the door finally clicks closed behind the other woman, she tries to speak, only to find the words stuck to her throat.  

Lex regards her knowingly, his expression—his smirk—shifting into something conspiratorial, as if he had just let her in on a great big joke.  

“Well,” he says with obvious satisfaction, slapping his hands on the table. “I must say, I am impressed. That was rather... illuminating.”

“She's a Replicant.” Kara finally bites out, shutting the apparatus closed in its case with a bit more force than she intended. She stares down Luthor, probably doing a piss-poor job of concealing her inexplicable anger, but unable to bring herself to care. She wants him to deny it. She wants him to tell her that her equipment must be faulty; hell, she wants him to tell her that she is just plain wrong and that she sucks at her job. She wants anything but the truth she's still presently still struggling to fully comprehend.  

“Well-observed, Ms. Danvers.” he says simply, nonchalantly.  

“She doesn't know,” Kara murmur, unsure if to herself or to Luthor.  

He shrugs, looking entirely unbothered. “I think she's beginning to suspect—I made her into a rather intelligent prototype, after all,” he explains, drumming his fingers casually on the solid wood of his conference table. “Tell me, Ms. Danvers, how many questions does it usually take you to, as some policemen so eloquently put it, ‘sniff out a skin-job,’ eh?”

Kara grits her teeth, “Twenty to thirty questions, cross-referenced, depending on the model,” she answers by rote. “How can she not... how can it not know what it is?”

Lex's smirk is unbearably smug. “It took you over a hundred for Lena, didn't it?”

Kara has to focus on unclenching her fists for a moment. “Yes,” she confirms, turning a flinty gaze to Luthor as she repeats her question. “How?”

“’More Human than Human’, Ms. Danvers—that is the motto here at LuthorCorp. Our goal is commerce; it's that simple. Lena is... an experiment. Nothing more.”

He stands, walking around the table tos top directly in front of Kara.

“The Nexus-6 is quite a marvel of bio-engineering, Ms. Danvers, if I do say so myself,” he begins again, voice laced with deliberate false-modesty. “Nevertheless, I began to observe in them certain behaviours, certain... strange obsessions. They are, after all, stunted, in a way; they are emotionally inexperienced. That’s to be expected; after all, they only have a few years to store and process experiences that take a lifetime to build, experiences that you and I may take for granted.”

His eyes glimmer in the low light of the room, pupils dilating in a way that takes Kara's mind back to the test she just performed; she wants to smash her machine to smithereens for reasons she cannot fathom.  

“It's what makes them unstable, you see. If, however, we gift them with a past—any past—we create a cushion; a safety net for their emotional development, and thus, we can control them far better.”

Kara's eyes widen; she feels her throat go dry. “Memories,” she whispers. “You mean... you mean you're giving them memories.”

Lex chuckles, looking increasingly pleased with himself. “Bingo! With this process, we have better control over them. Who knows, perhaps we'll even be able to increase their lifespan, in time. They're quite expensive to make; it's such a shame they have such a short shelf-life.”

Kara opens her mouth, then closes it again, finding it difficult to form coherent sentences.  

“What memories are you even giving them—she, she thinks she's your sister!” she finally croaks out.

Lex waves her off, unperturbed. “The source of the memories is inconsequential, Ms. Danvers. They can be fairytales, for all I care,” he says, and for the first time, as he regards Kara curiously, he looks... annoyed. “In Lena's case, I wanted them to be as real, as tangible as possible. Implanting some of my own memories—easily recalled, and easily corroborated with minimal tweaking—was the simplest course of action.”

Kara's not sure why the mere idea of memory implantation makes her sick to her stomach; she feels her hands balling into fists and jaw clenching so tightly she can practically hear the grind of her own teeth. Green eyes and questioning glances flash back to her mind, and Lex regards her pensively for a long moment. His smile fades by degrees, until his lips pull into a thin line, and for the first time, he looks displeased.  

“Remember, Ms. Danvers,” he says, brows furrowing in clear distaste. “She's an experiment. Nothing more.”

[brokenmimir]

Storm Tossed Love

White Rose Week 2020, Day 3: Secret Relationship AU

Captain Weiss Schnee, Bane of Pirates and Hero of Whitebay, pursues her arch-nemesis Ruby Rose, captain of the notorious pirate ship Crescent Rose, in what definitely isn't a unique form of flirting.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24683041

The bow of the Myrtenaster cut through the choppy waves, the strong tailwind from the brewing storm driving them forward. All hands were on deck, with some crew busily rigging safety lines, while others were in position to instantly react to the storm gusts, belaying pins at the ready to adjust the sheets at a moment's notice.

“Captain, we're cutting it too close,” Neptune said, his eyes wild as he flinched at another flash of lightning.

“You're greener than your gills, Lieutenant Vasilias,” Captain Weiss Schnee sneered, not even pausing for a moment from where she was peering through her telescope.

“But captain, this is madness!” he tried again. “We're going to dash apart on the rocks! Even without this wind it'd be too tight, and at this speed we'll never make it! We're gonna rip our keel right out from under us! You have to pull away from the coast!”

“And put that storm to our starboard?” Weiss scoffed. “If you wish to capsize us with one of those waves feel free to turn us about, but I'd prefer not to drown, lieutenant.”

There was a loud snap, and then a cry of distress, as one of the sheets snapped, unable to withstand the strain any longer. The rope shot across the deck with great force, taking one of the sailors in the head and knocking him off of his feet. When he didn't move Weiss pursed her lips in displeasure. He may have been a fresh rating from their last port, but he was still one of her's.

“There!” Weiss shouted, lowering her telescope. “Get that sheet fixed, now gentlemen! Miss Soleil, hard o' port when I give the word! Then follow my directions promptly! Miss Nikos, ready the cannons! We're only going to get one clean shot at this, but after is a different story. We may well lose those pirates in the storm if we can't cripple them.”

“Aye, ma'am!” both women called.

Weiss leaned against the railing, gripping it tightly as she strained her eyes trying to make out what she'd seen earlier in the dim light. The section of Anima they were sailing around was a mess of reefs and rocky islets, with only the bravest or most foolhardy daring to come so close to the coastline, even in fair weather. With a massive storm pushing them too fast forward and whipping the seas into a frothy mess, it was anything but fair weather.

“Now, Miss Soleil, hard o' port!” Weiss shouted.

Neptune screamed in terror, gripping to the railing with both his arms and legs, while the rest of the crew held onto the safety lines and Soleil grunted, turning the wheel hard despite the currents and waves trying to resist the movement of the rudder. Just when it seemed that the ship would balk, they finally came about just enough, and moments later they shot through a gap between a coastal cliff and a rocky islet, one barely narrow enough for the three masted warship to pass through without scraping the sides.

“Now, hard o' starboard!” Weiss cried.

With a groan of straining timber the ship came about, a miniature whirlpool in the lee of the cliffs helping to propel them out towards the ocean, putting them just to the outside of huge, rocky protrusion barely visible through the storm-driven breakers.

“Ship sighted!” the lookout shouted. “Ahead of us, past the coast! Black flag… it's the Crescent Rose!”

“We've got her,” Weiss crowed. “Hard o' port when I say the word, Miss Soleil, and ready those guns, Miss Nikos! It'll be a fast shot, but we should get our whole broadside to bear!”

“Aye, aye, ma'am!” Pyrrha answered.

Neptune, who had apparently found the courage to open his eyes, lost any bravery he had as he shrieked. “There's a reef ahead! We're gonna run into it! We have to turn to starboard!”

Weiss rolled her eyes. “Turn to port on my mark, Miss Soleil.”

“You're gonna drown us all!” Neptune wailed.

“Now, hard o' port!”

With the trust earned over years of hard sailing, Ciel Soleil followed Weiss's word over the evidence of her own eyes, turning the ship to port and sending them speeding directly towards the huge reef before them. Past it was open water, as the small protrusion of coast that they had been lapping around gave way to offer a straight shot to open sea… as well as the pirate ship that Weiss was just beginning to make out in front of them.

Just as they were about to crash to their deaths, another high, storm tossed wave lifted their ship, and with inches at best to spare they were tossed over the reef, a move impossible in any weather but such a powerful storm, and even then it being high tide was the only thing that let them clear the reef. Like a watermelon seed spat from the lip of the coast they flew out into the open water, carrying such momentum that the pirate ship, if it had even spotted their ship sailing in a place no sane captain would dare to take their crew, had no chance to react.

“Fire!” Pyrrha Nikos shouted, and the guns of the Myrtenaster called their full throated roar of battle.

Weiss turned her attention to the Crescent Rose, finally spotting her target where she stood on her own quarterdeck. Ruby Rose, the most infamous privateer to ever accept letters of marque from Vale, stared at Weiss with a completely gobsmacked expression on her face. She barely reacted as a cannonball shot just past her, slamming into the mizzenmast with a shower of splinters. Weiss could do nothing but smirk in satisfaction as the pirates scrambled madly, completely unprepared for her attack.

Unfortunately, that proved to be the only truly great blow of what became a desperate, running battle against ship and storm. Even with one mast badly damaged, and a fair bit of rigging fouled, the single, rapid broadside did far too little damage to the pirate ship to truly slow them down, and by the time Weiss was able to bring the Myrtenaster back into combat position, fighting the weather the whole way, Ruby Rose had gotten her crew ready, and it was her turn to demonstrate her mastery of sailing by somehow losing them in storm tossed darkness.

When the sun finally rose Weiss snarled, slamming an angry fist into the railing as the first rays of the morning sun finally revealed the pirate ship in the distance. The Crescent Rose had taken a different course than Weiss had predicted, leaving them out of position for a proper intercept until long after they reached Mistral waters, whose junks would fiercely maintain the neutrality between even an Atlesian warship and a Valean pirate.

“Damn her for a fish,” Weiss growled. “We had her.”

Pyrrha, who had come up beside her, simply chuckled. “Almost. Will we pursue?”

“No,” Weiss said, with a sigh. “We won't catch her. As loathe as I am to compliment a Valean ship, much less a pirate one, the Crescent Rose has more speed than we do in stern chase, especially with this much tail wind. No, she's gone, and we might as well give up the hunt for the day.”

“Will we return to Solitas then?” Pyrrha asked.

Weiss shook her head. “No, we need to resupply, and we can perhaps get some information as well. Lieutenant Vasilias?”

“Ma'am?”

“Stand down the men and take the watch. We're bound for Argus, if you think you can manage it.”

“Of course I can,” he said, puffing out his chest proudly. “My father-”

“Bought you a commission you didn't earn, and ensured you took up otherwise useful deck space on my ship,” Weiss interrupted. “Miss Nikos? If you could ensure that the Lieutenant doesn't sail us to Menagerie or Sanus while I get some rack time?”

“Aye, aye ma'am,” Pyrrha said, squinting at the coast. “We should reach Argus before the night watch.”

Weiss nodded to her, before heading to a cabin. Once there she collapsed on her bed with a sigh. It had been a long night, but an exhilarating one, although if Neptune Vasilias didn't shape up he'd find himself going for a long swim soon. Still, despite her lack of success it wasn't all bad. She'd remember Ruby's expression for the rest of her life; it wasn't often that she truly surprised the unpredictable pirate.

That evening, freshly washed and wearing a starched uniform, Weiss strolled down the gangway and onto the dock. Argus was a large city, one founded with a mix of Atlesians and Mistralians, although it was legally a part of Mistral, and thus neutral in the war between Atlas and Vale.

Weiss pointedly ignored the murmuring crowd as she moved through the city. When she first gained her captaincy, many said that it was because of her father's influence, the same way that Neptune's officer position was received. To be honest, that was the reason she initially became a lieutenant under Captain, now Commodore, Port, but she had long ago learned to be a good officer, and he had selected her to take control of the Myrtenaster after his promotion. Perhaps one day, after a few tough lessons, Neptune would be the same.

Or, perhaps not.

Weiss soon found her way to a small, relatively quiet inn near the docks. Most of her crew would be partying in the rowdier areas, and she hoped that Pyrrha could them in hand. She, however, had different evening plans than drinking herself silly.

The room went still and quiet when she stepped inside, but she ignored the stares and walked up to the man behind the bar. “I'm expected.”

“R-room four,” he stammered.

She nodded, and walked up the stairs, and soon she took a deep breath, adjusting her long, white braid under its stiff tricorne one last time, before knocking. In moments the door flew open, to reveal a grinning, silver eyed rapscallion, who grabbed her still raised fist and dragged her inside by it, tossing her onto the bed.

“Oof!” she grunted. “Ruby!”

“Weiss!” the pirate captain cheered, closing the door and then hopping on top of her. “Did you have to almost blow my head off!?”

Weiss sniffed. “If you let a little ambush like that get you then you'd deserve it.”

“Little ambush, she says,” Ruby grumbled. “I'm gonna be in port for, like, a month, maybe two fixing that mast. I'm gonna punish you for what you did to my Crescent Rose.”

“N-now Ruby, let's not be hasty.”

“Now you say that,” Ruby pouted. “Last time I damaged the Myrtenaster I couldn't sit down for a week.”

“Well, you deserved it, being a notorious scalawag,” Weiss sniffed. “Damaging my ship. Reprehensible.”

“Yeah, well… I'll reprehen-that thing you”

“Reprehensible isn't a verb,” Weiss snorted.

“Well, uh… you aren't a verb. So there!”

Weiss crossed her arms and gave her an unimpressed look, only to be interrupted by giggles as Ruby began to tickle her. “No, stop, stop!”

“Imagine if people knew that the great, scary Captain Schnee, Bane of Pirates and Hero of Whitebay, was so ticklish. And a giggler.”

“I'm not a giggler!” Weiss shouted, only to break out into another fit of giggles as Ruby began tickling her again. “Stop, stop!”

“I'll think about it… maybe,” Ruby mused, before tickling her again.

“I'll- I'll make it worth your while,” Weiss gasped.

“Oh?” Ruby asked. “How's that?”

Weiss looked up at her through her eyelashes, cheeks flushed and eyes dancing with happiness. “A kiss.”

“I dunno,” Ruby said. “I do like kisses…”

Weiss then grinned, waggling her eyebrows. “You'll like where I'm putting this kiss, sailor.”

Ruby grinned back. “Aye, aye, Captain Schnee.”

[razorblade180]

Sunshower 6

The day after a party, everyone’s worse nightmare. Even with more to come indefinitely, faunus weren’t immune to the effects of partying too hard. Morning had finally kissed Menagerie and those with jobs were the first to witness or feel the shock of Blake’s Homecoming. Streets and houses were littered with festivities along with plenty of red solo cups. Officer’s were up first to deal with any passed out people that were anywhere but their home. All in all, the first night was a hit; people’s spirits seemed to be through the roof. The wave of pleasure was sure to carry over to tonight.

It didn’t take long for the outside world to start rousing people from sleep; including Ilia. Slowly her eyes open to the dim sunlight hitting them; doing no good for her massive hangover. Things are fuzzy. Not to mention.....aching? Common for downing five too many but this felt different. Since when does drinking hurt your legs? Her right hand rubbed the bridge of her nose as she tried to adjust to being being sober again.

Ilia:(Ugh, where am I? Did I......fall asleep? Am I still asleep? No, too much pain to be a dream. Even my own thoughts sound way too loud...) *rubs her temples*

Ilia:(Okay, if I can survive the white fang then I push through this hangover and open my eyes to the very, very bright lights. Easy as one.....two.....thre-

‘Zzzzzzzz’

Ilia:Was that.....snoring?

Her eyes opened one at a time to lessen the pain. It took a few seconds to see clearly but eventually she did; still, Ilia needed a minute to process what she saw. The interior design told her she was in Blake’s house. The room wasn’t really messy which told her no one had come in during the party. The only visible mess were clothes.....? Her clothes at that. Both hands shot up to her head to feel that her hair was down as well. Finally a gasp was let out as her mind was finally catching up.

Ilia:(I’m in Blake’s house still!!! Not just that, but naked two!? What the actual hell happened last night!!? Party, drank, drank some more, also cried I think? Then I got fresh air with-)

‘Zzzzzzzz’

Ilia:......

Everything in her entire body told her to not look to her left. Pieces of memories she kept recalling demanded to know if they were being remembered right however. Something Ilia knew she most likely was since it would be just her luck. Time felt like it stopped as she finally turned to see the source of the snoring. Sure enough, Sun laid peacefully next to her with his head facing away from her. His short was off and she could spot it near the foot of the bed; along with the rest of his clothes. Brown skin turned white from the shock as freckles went straight to pink from embarrassment. Sun Wukong was currently naked and sleeping next to her who is also naked but now completely awake. Even the hangover took a backseat to this dump of information.

Ilia:.........

Ilia:(Oh fuck.......)

The boy was motionless; almost unnerving motionless. A dark thought started to grow in her head so gently she pulled the cover about an inch down and listened to his heart. Ilia’s nerves weren’t calmed to discover that he sounded and looked find. Now she could focus on major crisis. Leaving. She slid herself out from the side of covers and nearly dropped to the wooden floor. Blaming only the hangover would be a lie for the state of her poor motor skills yet thinking of other reasons why moving was a chore lead to topics she didn’t want to address at the moment. One problem at a time. Right now she needed to be presentable. It took some time but she managed dress herself for the most part. The ponytail was neglected as well as the jacket she wore.

Full stealth mode was happening right now. Each foot gently went in front of the other as she watched him to make sure he was still asleep. There was something unusual about the way he slept that Ilia couldn’t figure out. Oh well. She’d think about it later. Right now she is just relieved to have reached the door knob. At least she was until it started twisting from the other side. Someone was coming in...

Ilia:(No no no no no no no!!!!!!!! Crap what do I-)

*door opens*

Kali:*whispering* Pssst Sun? It’s morn.....ing? Ilia?

Ilia:.......I can explain! Things got crazy and we weren’t thinking! I was dr-

Kali:*covers Ilia’s mouth* Relax, you look like you’re about to faint. I didn’t even know you were at the party. Guess I know why *looks at bed*

Ilia:Please don’t mention this to anyone.

Kali:I wouldn’t even dream of it sweetie. I can’t tell you how crazy parties got back in me and Ghira’s day. My lips are sealed. *steps aside*

Ilia wouldn’t call herself a religious person, but Kali had to be a gift from above. She couldn’t help but hug the older woman as she walked out the room.

Kali:Oh, one more thing.

Ilia:What?

Kali:Blake and Yang are passed out on the couch and Ghira is making coffee in the kitchen so......might wanna use the balcony.

Ilia:I’m getting real sick of that balcony. Thank you.

She made a hard right as soon as she entered the hallway towards the balcony. Ilia was starting to miss simply walking through a doorway. It was time to put her skills to the test. Carefully she hoisted herself up on the railing and looked at the closet tree, then the ground.

Ilia:Should be easy enough.

Her foot slips right as she jumps around she hits the ground below. The only pain she feels is the bruised ego and what can only be described as her brain bouncing around. The fatigue of it all made the ground feel oddly comfortable. She took a moment to stare up at the sky; the shade from the balcony blocking the cruel sun. Soon she’d have to move.

Kali:*looks down* Are you okay?

Ilia:Honestly, not my worst screw up in recent months.

Kali:Fair enough. You forgot your scroll up here by the way.

Ilia:Probably for the best considering what just happened. Kali can you do me favor? I need you to make a call.

xxx

Neptune:.......*sips coffee*

Neptune:Can you walk.

Ilia:Yeah

Neptune:Can you walk well?

Ilia:No......got a feeling I twisted my ankle a little. Among other stuff.

Neptune:And you don’t ask Kali for first aid because.....?

Ilia:I am not going back in that house right now. Just help me up please? My aura will fix it soon enough.*raises arm* Mind being my crutch?

Neptune:I could just carry you on my back?

Ilia:Neptune I need just a little dignity right now so if you could just get under my arm and then stand up please.

Neptune:But your so short. I’d have to be hunched over and-

Ilia:You dined and dash yesterday! Can you please just-

Neptune:Fine! *supports her* happy?

Ilia:A little. Can we go to your motel room? My home is way too far of a walk.

Neptune:Fine by mean. I’d get lost anyways. *starts walking*

Ilia:Thank you...

Neptune:Yep. So.....any reason why you look vanilla swirl with pink sprinkles?

Ilia:It’s been an overwhelming forty minutes since I woke up.

Neptune:Does it have something to do with sleeping with my best friend?

Ilia:*eyes widened* What are you talk- why would I....sigh

Neptune:Not even denying it. Don’t worry about responding to it right now. Just enjoy the fresh air and walk.

Ilia:(easier said then done.)

The duo hobbled in silence for awhile. It would look suspicious if there wasn’t plenty of other people still getting their barrings. Neptune kept his eyes forward to look out for anything. Ilia was busy zoning out. The initial shock of everything had finally warn off and her skin went back to its natural color; except for her freckles. The darker spots were still pink and only getting pinker as she hopelessly tried to think of anything but last night. Blood rushed to her face out of embarrassment.

Neptune:Heads up Ilia.

Ilia:Hmmm? *looks up* Oh......

A menagerie officer stands before them with their hands on their hips; a fox tail wraps around their slim frame as they stare down the two.

Neptune:Who’s your foxy friend Ilia?

Cop:That’s racist....

Neptune:Crap! I’m sorry!!! You know I kinda thought it was stupid to say out loud but-

Ilia:They’re joking around. Neptune this is Judy. Judy this is Neptune, he’s a bit dumb but I’ve been told he’s pretty valid as a person.

Judy:Haha, he must be if Ghira hasn’t thrown in the ocean yet.

Neptune:He....he does that?

Judy:Only to pests. For the record, I’d play it say and refrain from animal puns or jokes. Any other faunus might’ve gotten a bit rowdy.

Neptune:Noted. So....any reason someone as beautiful as yourself came strolling this way?

Judy:Just helping where I could when suddenly I see Miss. Bomb Defuser strolling by. You haven’t checked in with me in a couple of days. I don’t have to remind you that multiple cops and gaurds are still twitchy about your circumstances do I?

Neptune:Wait, is Judy-

Ilia:Yes Neptune, Judy is my parole officer.

Judy:Come now, you aren’t on parole. It just makes a lot of people feel better if you can be accounted for regularly by the authorities and sometimes help around the place to rebuild your self ima-

Ilia:Judy.......it’s parole.

Judy:........*nods* Yeah I guess it is, sorry.

Neptune:Well if that’s the case I can vouch for her and say for the pass few days she’s done nothing but help organize the party and decided to indulge in the festivities last night. You can even find a copy of all the decorations she’s done at the Belladonna estate signed off by Ghira himself.

Ilia:!!!!?

Judy:Woah, well that makes things easier. Thank you Neptune. I guess you really are valid.

Ilia:You’re telling me.

Judy:Anyways, I’m gonna head out but actually go check in next time so we don’t have to think about sending a search party. *walking away*

Ilia:I’ll think about it.

Judy:Ilia.....

Ilia:Goodbye Judy! Start walking Neptune before we here a long winded speech about the wall.

Neptune:*walks* Judy seems nice.

Ilia:Surprised you barely flirted through that conversation. I was waiting for you to make a mistake like most people do around Judy.

Neptune:Mistake? What mistake?

Ilia:If you haven’t figured it out yet then who am I to tell?

Neptune:*smiles*

Ilia:What?

Neptune:You’ve calmed down from the looks of it.

Ilia:Oh, I guess I have.

Neptune:Good, because we’re here.

Motels were something menagerie was getting used to since Haven. Plenty of faunus has stopped by to figure out if they also wanted to move in and even important figures across Remnant wanted to discuss human and faunus relations as a new organization formed. So a motel half the size of Blake’s home was built a little ways west of the main part of the island. Here people could easily access the beach or look inward to all the people and get a glimpse of what a regular day here looks like.

Neptune took pride and being the first human to have an indefinite stay at the beautiful place; even Ilia hasn’t been around it much. He lead her to his room there was a back porch that faced the sea with a hammock. The room itself was wood furnished with a decent sized bed in the middle and two night standing on each side. The golden brown look of it all gave off a vibe of warm flames and deep heritage. Neptune guided her to the hammock then went back inside to grab some pills and water bottles before coming back out. He didn’t have to say anything before she grabbed both of them and open the lid.

Neptune:I’m guessing your hangover headache was really bad.

Ilia:You guessed correctly. Thank you by the way, for all this. Especially with Judy.

Neptune:Someone had to keep track of supplies since you and Sun made a competition.

Ilia:Makes sense. By the way.....Judy is-

Neptune:I figured it out on the way here.

Ilia:Okay, I was gonna feel a bit bad if I didn’t say something.

Neptune:Trust me, I’ve developed a sense for these things after meeting you. Still, they are pretty cool. Probably knows how to party.

Ilia:Don’t tell your date from last night that, or is she already out of the picture? This room is surprisingly clean for a playboy after a party. House keeping works fast.

Neptune:House keeping only had to dust. Nothing happened in this room last night. I took that girl home after the fireworks because boy was she out of it. I tried calling Sun to let him know where I was but he never answered. That’s when a gut feeling told me to look for high points and I saw you two on the roof.

Ilia:Oh......

Neptune:Didn’t think much of it. Even after I saw him pick you up and lead you inside. There was a little chatter about a spunky drunk girl that told of some creep inside with the help of a monkey faunus so I assumed that you were thoroughly wasted; which makes sense after what you did at the restaurant. Sun was with you and both of you were pretty bummed out the whole night so I thought “they’ll probably go ditch the thing and I’ll see him later.” But then I didn’t......

Ilia:Uuuuuuummmmmmm.....

Neptune:Sun is a big boy and knows the place so I didn’t think much of it. I’d catch up with him tomorrow morning. Tomorrow becomes today and as I reach for my scroll expecting apology messages from him, it’s Kali telling me to come pick you up from the house as quickly and discreetly as possible. Now I hate to make assumptions, but I’ve done my fair share of unsuccessful balcony exits. What they all have in common is what I did the night before to prompt such a hasty exit.

Ilia:What are you? Some kind of jr detective?

Neptune:When it comes to crimes of the heart I find all the clues.

Ilia:It’s not a crime of the heart it’s just.....ugh. *lays down* Gods I feel stupid. What possessed me to think sleeping with Sun was a good idea to push away pain.

Neptune:I know your teenage years aren’t exactly normal but that’s about as normal as teenage thought processes go. He was depressed, you were depressed, tons of alcohol, and common ground found at a late night party. I’m not saying I expected this because I didn’t, but makes sense.

Ilia:You don’t understand Neptune! What happened shouldn’t have happened, but it did and now I just feel....weird. I can’t remember all of last night right now but I remember a decent amount. Things I wish I didn’t.

Neptune:Like?

Ilia:I said things. Personal things I don’t share freely. I was hurt but things felt, okay? Yet so wrong at the same time.

Neptune:*frowns* Do you feel used?

Ilia:No, heavens no. If anything I sort of feel like I used him a little. Which was not my intention.

Neptune:What was your intention?

Ilia:I DON’T KNOW!!!!!! I just remember feeling..... something. Whatever the hell it was....

.........

Neptune:Do you....regret it?

Ilia:What?

Neptune:Do you regret last night?

Ilia:I’m, not exactly sure.

Neptune:Well maybe start there and everything else might fall into place? I’m not saying this isn’t a big deal or anything but trust me when I say this does not have to be some staggering revelation. Beer has a way of blurring that line.

Ilia:Sigh, I’m not prepared to talk to Sun about this.

Neptune:Lucky for you, he normally blacks-out when he gets too drunk.

Ilia:Seriously?

Neptune:Yeah he doesn’t like drinking. I think he only did it because of how upset he was.

Ilia:Oh......*turns blue*

Neptune:Uh oh, what’s wrong?

Ilia:Even if he doesn’t remember, it’s wrong to keep that from him right?

Neptune:Tricky question. Personally, I’d tell him if you feel weird about it. Sort out your feelings on the situation and if it meant nothing to you and was just something that happened then by all means, I’ll keep the secret.

Ilia:But.....?

Neptune:Blake and Sun are only friends with compassionate people, so I know last night meant something to you in one shape or form. I’ll be here figure it out if you want and anything else you might need. That way you can tell him with a clear head.

The more Neptune spoke, the more Ilia had to keep rethinking her description of him. Sun wasn’t just hyping him up whenever he told her that Neptune has more heart than she realized. His words, his smile, everything he did today made that statement....valid.

Ilia:I’m sorry Neptune.

Neptune:For what?

Ilia:Downplaying you constantly. You’re actually really sweet. So I’m sorry.

Neptune:Oh *red* well don’t go spreading that around alright. Some of these girls are really buying the whole cool yet distant act I’m putting on.

Ilia:*snickers* Alright, I guess I can do that. Hey is it alright if I can just lay here for a bit and just relax?

Neptune:Sure, it’ll help get my lien’s worth out of this place. *going inside*

Ilia:How much is this room?

Neptune:Too much Ilia! It’s too much! At least the water is free, I hope.

Ilia:(Funny, forgot to call himself compassionate as well. Maybe that’s why Sun likes him?)

Neptune:*scrolling* Hmm?

*one new message*

Sun: “Hey man, sorry about last night.”

Neptune: “Don’t sweat it dude.”

Sun: “So uh....can I come over? I gotta talk to you.”

Neptune:........

Neptune: “About?”

Sun: “About something that happened last night.”

Neptune:*turns around*

Ilia:*sleeping peacefully*

Neptune: “How about we meet somewhere for breakfast instead? Just to get out and about?”

Sun: “Sounds like a plan. Thanks bro”

Neptune:(Well I guess this is happening now.)

xxx

Sun:*holding Ilia’s scrunchy*......... oh boy.

Part 5

[janeofcakes]

Keep Your Friends Close...: Chapter 8

I’m back again, my friends, and I can’t believe the weekend is upon us already. I have no idea where the time has gone. I feel like I lost the five days. Where was I? What did I do? Who was I with? This new normal really is so strange. That being said, I hope this chapter brings you some solace. I know I always say that, but I really mean it. I would like to use my powers for good. <3

----

Hush little baby, don’t say a word and never mind that noise you heard. It’s just the beast under your bed, in your closet, in your head.                                          -- Metallica, Enter Sandman

The following morning is, to say the least, eventful. John and Sherlock wake at roughly the same time and each showers in his respective bathroom. They actually make a quick breakfast together. Sherlock works on what he calls his “secret recipe” for seasoned scrambled eggs while John mans the bacon and toast. He teases Sherlock while they cook, pretending to look over his shoulder or around his body to see the ingredients. It is absolutely delicious and so peaceful, and John even admits the eggs are the best he has ever had when all is said and done.

After seeing to John’s flat and speaking with the police, they eventually make it to the stadium separately. John has been in his office ever since, catching up on all he had planned to do that morning. He stops for a moment, fingers poised above the qwerty keys, visions from breakfast drifting about in his mind. He looks up from the computer screen on his desk and lets his eyes rest on the wall across the way. Looking at nothing in particular, he smiles to himself. Sherlock was so open, so at ease. So was John, for that matter. It was like something they did every morning. No awkwardness or uncertainty or fumbling for conversation. It was incredibly comfortable, like they had been flatmates for years, and John finds himself wanting it to happen again. Often.

Shaking his head and sighing, John looks back to the screen and reads what he was typing. He had missed out on a lot of work, having spent the whole morning with the police and then searching his own flat with Sherlock. The officers and the detective in charge did nothing but irritate John from the moment they arrived. Their leading questions and thoughtless commentary all but accusing John of being careless with a burglar he “caught in the act” by returning home at just the wrong time. John spent two hours alone trying to make them believe he wasn’t a complete idiot and all while not cursing. A feet in and of itself.

By the time they left, John was mad as hell. Fortunately, his mood improved when he and Sherlock searched the flat. Nothing had been moved or stolen. The sole purpose for the intrusion was to murder John, though John is not sure that makes him feel any better about the whole thing. The intruder left bloody little evidence behind, beyond more bullet holes than John remembers him firing. He began to feel lucky he made it out with only glancing blows. Sherlock had seemed impressed and John had shrugged, suggesting the man was a bad shot. He shook his head, curls bouncing and said no one sends a man who lacks accuracy on a shooting range.

The police had dug the bullets from the walls at which point Sherlock announced they had been fired from a Beretta, probably an M9A3 because it has a threaded barrel to suppress sound and John spoke of bullets whizzing rather than gunshots. When he was finished, nearly everyone in the room was staring in utter befuddlement, even John. Sherlock rolled his eyes and explained that he often read books and studied different subjects when he couldn’t sleep. Firearms happened to have been one of the topics.

“Pretty odd subject to just study at random, don’t you think?” the detective had asked. “Who are you again?”

“Sherlock Holmes,” he replied impatiently. “John and I are colleagues.”

“Holmes, Holmes. Why does that sound familiar?”

“Because he’s the coach for the Rock City Rollers, sir,” a uniformed officer piped up. The detective looked his way.

“The derby team?” he turned back to Sherlock, who was very visibly annoyed. “No kidding. I always change the channel for the news before interviews with the coach.”

“Perhaps you would not be so ill informed if you had a longer attention span,” Sherlock shot back. John inches closer to him, wanting to keep him from going off the rails.

“Sherlock,” he had mumbled in warning. John was hardly the picture of calm either, but stirring up trouble would only delay the detective’s departure.

“The team looks fantastic, Mr. Holmes,” the uniformed officer bubbled, either trying to defuse the situation or simply because he was a fan. “All the players have been really awesome in the bouts so far. Top form.”

“Right,” the detective spoke over him and eyed Sherlock suspiciously. “Just where were you at the time of the attack?”

“In my home.”

“Doing what exactly? Studying up on more weapons to use on your colleagues maybe?”

“What the fuck?”

That was the moment John’s tenuous grip on his simmering anger snapped.

“Why the fuck are you accusing him? He didn’t do it!”

“Oh, really? You saw the culprit, did you? Let’s see,” the detective grabbed the small pad of paper another officer had been taking notes on right out of her hands. He glanced at it for show and fixed his eyes back on John.  “The attacker was dressed all in black with a stocking cap pulled down over his face, so no. No, you didn’t. You’re about six feet, aren’t you? Just about the right size.”

The detective addressed his last comments to Sherlock, who just stared at him with a critical glare. He obviously thought the man an idiot and regarded him as such. He remained silent in the wake of the detective’s accusations, but John. John was thoroughly pissed off. He had stepped right up into the detective’s personal space, a hard expression on his face. His eyes were blazing and his jaw was set, teeth clenched and muscles working. Held back by only a thread’s width, he was quite terrifying. 

“Let me ask you this,” his voice was calm, but laced with tension and the threat of more. “Why didn’t he just finish the job when he found me on his doorstep?”

“Makes it a bit obvious, doesn’t it?” the detective paused to raise his brows for emphasis. “You turning up dead at his apartment.”

“Oh. My. God,” John had just stared at the man in disbelief that evaporated back into anger soon enough when the detective insisted upon giving him an exaggerated look of warning, accompanied by a tilt of his head to indicate Sherlock. John opened his mouth for rebuttal, but felt a light touch on his arm. He would know that touch anywhere, and was that a little odd? It sent a tingle throughout John’s body, gentle and warm. A warmth that found its way up and down his limbs, and to his heart. All from that one point of contact, a feather light touch. And that really does seem odd.

“We’re done here,” John announced in a commanding voice. The detective gave him a very serious look and then turned to the crime scene technicians with a jerk of his head.

“You got what you need?” he angled his head back to John after receiving an affirmative. “We’ll be in touch. Let me know if you think of anything else.”

He handed John his card and gave Sherlock a pointed glare, his features still warning John to keep his distance. For his part, John took the card quietly, fighting not to roll his eyes or lay into the man.

“Thank you. Goodbye.”

John thought that was the end of it, that his mood could not possibly be worse. He was wrong.

He and Sherlock had just finished their own search of the flat. Getting his mind on something else, and having some distance between him and the idiot detective, had done wonders. He was decidedly grumpy, but in a much better place. Until Sherlock opened his mouth. He was in the middle of a deduction based upon the evidence they found and John was listening carefully, but somehow the rest of it disappeared after Sherlock’s last few words.

“...and you’ll have to stay somewhere else, of course.”

“What?”

“You will have to move out until the man is apprehended.”

Sherlock sounded so damn smug, so self-assured. John dipped his chin and glared up at him with fierce eyes.

“I am not moving out,” he growled and Sherlock stared back at him with an air of surprise that is quickly quashed.

“John, this man was clearly here to murder you,” he had said firmly. “There was no other motive - burglary, vandalism and the like. The only items out of place are what you knocked over in the struggle. He left as soon as he lost you. Coupled with what he said..”

“Never mind what he said,” John interrupted in a low voice, thick with anger. He was not going to run. He was not about to let this bastard control him. If that was what Sherlock wanted, he could shove it up his ass.

“He said something else,” Sherlock had said suddenly, pushing the point. “Something you’re not telling me.”

“It’s none of your business!” The dam had broken and Sherlock took the brunt of John’s fury. “Whatever he said or did, none of it has anything to do with you. You’re not my flatmate or my family. We’re barely even friends!”

John saw the sting of the words as plain as if he had hit Sherlock. The face that was always so open with him closed off in a split-second as Sherlock closed himself to John. There was nothing in his beautifully expressive eyes but cold and ice. John had instantly regretted his words and followed Sherlock as he headed for the door, grabbing his coat on the way.

“Sherlock. Sherlock, don’t go.”

“No, you’re right. There’s no reason to involve myself,” he stopped abruptly and turned to face John, his hand on the knob. His movements were so sudden that John almost ran into him. “Except that you came to me. You’d been shot. You could have been killed! And you came to my door. So forgive me for thinking that meant something.”

Sherlock yanked the door open and rushed through, slamming it in John’s face. John had raised his hands to placate the angry man, but they were ignored and simply came to rest lightly onto the door as John leaned against it.

John had felt terrible, defeated. And he still does, sitting in his office hours later. He had not gone to practice that afternoon, too embarrassed to face Sherlock. God, he had been such a fool. Of course Sherlock was involved. John had run straight to his fucking door as soon as he had left his own flat. He involved him.

John is still looking at the wall across from his desk with unfocused eyes. Barely even friends, that is what he had said. It is true they have not known each other long, but John has never had a better friend. He feels like he has known Sherlock for years and yet, he was quick to hurt him so badly. He sighs. What he wouldn’t give to see that silhouette in his door right now.

He glances at the clock and watches for a few seconds as the hands tick away another minute. 10:56. John really should leave. It will be midnight before he gets home. He pushes his chair back to stand, knocking his pen to the floor. He stoops down to retrieve it, but launches himself right out of the chair to the floor instead as his door flies open and someone leaps into the room. John only just stops himself from gasping and giving himself away. Biting at his fist to keep quiet, he silently tucks himself under the desk. He holds his breath, hoping he was not heard because the sick feeling in his gut tells him this is no friendly visit.

For a moment, all is silent and still. The intruder moves quickly to the room’s closet door and throws it open, stamping his feet hard on the floor to set himself into position as he does so. John inhales sharply but silently, hoping the man does not come close to the desk. His mind can only imagine one scenario to explain the man’s position in front of the closet. He has seen it in countless cop and detective shows on telly.

The door closes again and John hears the click of a hammer going back into place. He closes his eyes, but only for a second when the clomping footsteps near the desk. John is frozen to the spot and trying to ready himself to spring up and defend himself, knowing he will be shot in the attempt. He’ll be damned if he goes down without a fight. His eyes dart around for anything he can use as a weapon, but all he has is the pen he bent down to pick up. Given his current posture, John sees only one option. If he kicks the intruder away he should have enough time to get out from under the desk and go at him with the pen. John knows exactly where to hit and make it count. If it comes to that, he will only get one shot at it.

John swallows hard and listens intently as the man takes a few steps. He comes nearer to the desk and John flinches away, the man is so close. Even as John’s muscles tighten, readying to kick, the man turns and walks to stand in front of the office door. John bites his lip, not daring to believe the man will leave. He turns his head until one ear faces the front of the desk, tilting his head to listen.

“He’s not here.”

John’s eyes widen and ice cold fear begins creeping through his veins. It is the same voice that whispered in his ear. It is the same man who shot at him the night before. John stops breathing all together. If this man discovers his hiding place he will not escape this time.

“I know what you said, but he isn’t here,” the man repeats in a bland tone. “He must have left earlier than you thought.”

John listens carefully and moves not a muscle. The man continues speaking on his mobile and John wishes he could hear the other voice. He racks his brain to think of who it might be. Someone who knows he is working late. Someone in the stadium. One of the staff or team? No, it can’t be.

“Right. I’ll check the exam rooms and then go to his apartment again. His car may still be here, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t get a ride somewhere.” A pause. “Wherever he is, he’ll have to go home eventually.”

The office door opens, but the man does not move. Instead, John hears the rustle of clothing as the man looks around one last time. There is a deep inhalation and slow release of breath. He steps through and closes the door. John listens intently at the sounds of his footsteps fading down the hall. He lets out a long sigh of relief, letting his shoulders sag and his head fall back against the desk. John closes his eyes and tries to think. He cannot leave right away, much as he would love to run, or he will surely be seen. He has to wait long enough for the man to check the exam rooms. John is sure it will take the man all of five minutes to complete, but decides he should wait at least thirty. Only way to be certain he is gone so John can sneak out of the stadium as quickly and quietly as possible. He lets out another breath, willing his body to relax. He cannot go home.

John immediately thinks of Sherlock and then shakes his head. Will he help John again after all the things he said? John closes his eyes again and sees bright grey ones staring back at him. He wrinkles his brow as if in pain, the silent anguish that only hurting a friend can cause. A friend? Or more? Does John want more? He cannot deny his interest in Sherlock, nor his attraction. The man could be a bloody underwear model with the way he looks. He is way out of John’s league, but when has that ever stopped him? John smirks and he watches as one of those keen grey eyes winks.

Those ridiculous cheekbones come into view and a smile emerges from the darkness. A very knowing and sly smile. Cheeky bastard. A long column of pale skin glows to life, leading down to clavicles that draw the eye to broad, strong shoulders. As more of Sherlock comes out of the shadows in John’s mind, he begins to realize the coach is not wearing a shirt. The darkness clears away from a firm chest, revealing muscle and skin, miles of pale skin. John can feel desire pooling in his belly. Sherlock is...everything. They have only just met and John is actually so far gone on him that he might as well be a horny teenager again. And Sherlock must know, much as John tries to hide it, but he has never said a word. John really should drop it if Sherlock is not interested and he will. John would never risk their friendship for mere sex. He has never connected with someone on this level before and he will not lose it.

When the darkness begins to fade from below Sherlock’s waist, John’s head snaps up fast enough to give a good crack on the desk. He curses and takes a moment to remember where he is. God, every joint in his body is stiff. He must have fallen asleep while he was waiting. Willing to take the risk, he shifts painfully out from under the desk and onto his knees. Cautiously, John rises a few inches to peer over its surface. The room is empty. His gaze shoots to the clock. 1:26am.

“Jesus,” John says out loud.

The culprit is long since gone. At his flat, no doubt. John wonders how long the man will wait for him there, or if he will come back here. That thought ends the idea forming in his mind of sleeping in his office. He looks at the clock again. With one place on his mind, he tells himself he should just go to a hotel. He does not want to put Sherlock in danger and John has already pissed him off enough. What would turning up at his door after two in the morning elicit?

He should definitely go to a hotel. John puffs out a frustrated breath and rises from the floor, knowing exactly where he is going to go and hoping Sherlock does not kick him to the pavement.

---

Will Sherlock kick him to the curb? Will he give him kindness or throw the baggage out? (Bonus points if you recognize that quote.) Tread carefully, my doctor, tread softly. The moon is low and dark in the night sky. Wickedness is afoot for thee. Listen to me. I’m waxing poetic tonight.  :D

@zentris @toooldforthissh-stuff @shana-movershaker @melmey-fanfics @louise175dk @221b-carefulwhatyouwishfor @technicallywiseoncns @underestimatemethatwillbefun @jhamishw @weirdlittlegoofball @superwholockpotterincamelot @superwholocklmt @ladidragonuniverse @kittenmadnessandtea @srebrnafh @welcometomyharddrive @annecumberbatch @kingdomofbrokenhearts @philliphooper @whodwantmeasaflatmate @gloriascott93 @vvaticancameoss @cow-mow @echosilverwolf @spazzz32 @absentmindedstuff @swissmissing @shuukichan @maeliandmyself @wtgilsa @thetranslucentwallaby @red-pen-revolution @britishaccentfan @dischorde @plasticstrawsmuggler @youknowyougrow

[hookaroo]

A Captain’s Heart (12 of 34?)

Chapter 1 Chapter 11

Rated T for language and graphic descriptions of injuries.

Also on FF.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12937105/1/A-Captain-s-Heart

Tagging @therooksshiningknight & @killian-whump by request :)

“Oh Killian.”

Awakened first by the door opening and then more fully by the complex emotions in his wife’s voice, Killian groggily lifted his hand in her direction… only to be reminded of his dire situation by the clank of handcuffs against the metal railing. He grimaced a sheepish apology.

“Hello, love. You made it, then. How was the drive?”

She stopped just out of reach. The twitching of her fingers betrayed how badly they itched to reach out and comfort him, assure her he was actually there in front of her, promise them both a happy resolution to the predicament. Her expression was a rigid neutral, but he could see the loving softness in her eyes.

“They weren’t even going to let me see you. Had to pull some strings.” She scoured his body for injury, but the gruesome wound on his leg had been cleaned and covered with a thick bandage once the pain medication had taken effect. “You okay?”

“Aye.”

There was no need for him to protest his innocence to her. He knew that she knew. And that’s all that mattered. Still, there was so much he wished he could tell her, if only the pesky guard officer would leave them alone. If only he knew for sure they weren’t being recorded. If only…

Killian could do nothing but sigh in frustration. To have her so close, and unable to touch… it was pure torture. His fingers tingled to wrap around hers, his lips burned with the need to kiss.

“Not quite the reunion I’d imagined,” he admitted with a sad smile. Emma’s answer was equally rueful.

“It’ll be okay, Killian. We’ll fix this mess.”

He nodded in a display of confidence beyond what he actually felt. “Do you know what’s become of… er… my cousin?”

Killian tried to use his eyes to convey the importance of having her play along. Emma’s brow creased in the slightest of confused frowns. Mystified, she mouthed, Cousin? before shaking her head.

“No. Sorry.”

Quietly, Killian voiced his concerns. “They haven’t told me they’ve done with her, and you know how she gets.” He raised a prompting eyebrow, and Emma nodded.

“Oh. Right. I’ll… see what I can find out. Can’t promise they’ll let me back in with news, though.”

“That’s okay, Swan. I’ll feel better knowing she’s got an ally in you.”

He had really hoped to break the news to her gently. Under different circumstances…. Any other circumstances, really. But Marvel didn’t deserve continued distress, and she would recognize Emma. At least then she wouldn’t feel completely abandoned.

“Time’s up, sheriff,” intoned the guard, and Emma’s expression flattened; Killian could immediately recognize her usual reaction to strong emotion whenever she thought she wasn’t in a good place to express it. He bit his lip, feeling horrible that he was the source of that angst, no matter how innocent he actually was.

“I’m so sorry, love.”

She tried to smile, but the result was a sad shadow of her normal sunshine. “Don’t be. You didn’t do anything wrong.” She blew him a kiss. “Love you, Killian. See you soon.”

“I love you, Emma.”   

He couldn’t even return the gesture. And the ache in his heart was killing him.

Because of his injury and the necessity of IV therapy, Killian was not sent to jail to await arraignment; instead, they admitted him to the hospital for the night. Late afternoon found him in a private room with a guard posted by the door and a cuff around his ankle, securing him to the bed rail. He wasn’t sure if the latter was a concession to his disability, or a sign that they considered him not to be a danger to the nurses that were in and out checking on him. Either way, Killian was grateful to have his hand free.

He wasn’t allowed any visitors apart from his lawyer, a disturbingly young man who hadn’t yet mastered the poker face needed to conceal his obvious belief in Killian’s guilt. Killian confirmed his intention to plead ‘not guilty’ and did not avail himself of the opportunity to ask any questions. Alone again, he spent the rest of the afternoon worrying at the TV, nodding off from drug-induced drowsiness, and fighting the need to visit the restroom every 15 minutes - a process which required nurse assistance and direct guard supervision and was much more trouble than it was worth. But the saline being pumped into him had to go somewhere.

What would they have done with Marvel? Fed and clothed her, presumably. But then what? Was it at all reasonable to hope that she’d been discharged into Emma’s care? Knowing that she was his wife and thus put Marvel at risk of unwilling contact with him after his release? Killian prayed that, wherever she was, she wasn’t too confused or afraid, or feeling like he had deserted her.

He missed her. Emma, too, of course - gods, what he wouldn’t give to have his wife snuggled next to him right now - but that was expected. He and Marvel, though, had just met. They had spent less than 24 hours together, by his reckoning. Very eventful hours, to be sure, but… somehow she had become so precious to him in that time, and he missed having her by his side. He couldn’t wait to see her again.

Killian spent the night in an odd mixture of stressed wakefulness and deep, drugged sleep, until dawn roused him squarely into a state of hungover listlessness. He was more nervous than he thought he would be over the day’s court proceedings. They would not be determining his fate... at least, not beyond the amount of money required to release him on bail. It must be old habits. No pirate could be thrilled by the prospect of appearing before a magistrate, under any circumstances.

Morning rounds brought a physician to check his progress. And Killian was doubly grateful for the narcotics during the exam and bandage change. Apparently satisfied by whatever could be gleaned from the appalling sight, the doctor gave orders for a switch to oral medications and discharge home - or, in this case, to the courthouse and then home. Hopefully.

A nurse removed his IV and helped him into a correctional facility jumpsuit, which had to be a size larger than preferable in order to accommodate the bandage on his leg. And then it was simply a matter of awaiting the court's pleasure. Thankfully, the Friday docket was light, and Killian found himself being wheeled to a transport vehicle before 10 am.

The trip was short and quickly forgotten in Killian’s preoccupation with their approaching destination. The attorney had explained what was to happen, and Killian had had a vague notion anyway, although their ‘courthouse’ in Storybrooke could in no way be considered reflective of the rest of the country. Beyond the occasional villain cropping up every so often, crime tended to be minor, and Judge Hart of Wonderland only rarely suggested beheading as an appropriate punishment.

As he was wheeled through the door and into the courtroom, Killian’s gaze immediately found Emma in the audience, before he took in anything else. Her mere presence worked wonders, bolstering his confidence and soothing his anxiety. He flashed her a wry smile, which she returned instantly, projecting calm reassurance, weariness, and a bit of annoyance at the situation. But knowing she was there - that she had his back, no matter the outcome - made all the difference.

The proceedings were over before he knew it, and apparently, Emma’s presence also influenced the judge, who released Killian on his own recognizance without even requiring bail. A surprised but grateful Killian was then returned to the patrol car and the court moved on.

All that remained then was a quick return to the hospital to fill out discharge papers and collect his prescriptions. He would be required back in Newburyport at some later date for meetings with the lawyer and a trial, if it proceeded that far. But for now, he was free. And all he wanted was to throw himself into Emma’s embrace… and then reunite with his ship incarnate, wherever she may be.

[omegaverse-seeker]

Serendipity

Hmmmmm............hmMMmMmMMmmMMMmmmMMMmmm. How to write a fic for this wordddddddd. HMMMMMMMMMM. Let’s hope that I write something decent. Lelelelel. Wish me luckkkk. 

It took a moment for the Omega to wake up from his sleep. He dreamt of being in his favorite movie, puppies, and for a split second very dedicated with making a gingerbread house. Perhaps Sammy was too dedicated to that gingerbread house, seeing as he slept through his alarm for nearly an hour before the early Christmas dream came to an end. He shot up in bed, nose stuffy and his ear ringing from the wailing ringtone he set for his alarm. With bleary brown eyes he looked at his phone, immediately waking up when he did. 

He was going to be late. He was going to be late on the day of his first presentation ever at work. The first project that was given to him ever, and he was going to be late. The panic sat in as he sat in his bed for more time than he should’ve before jumping out of it and running around to get ready as fast as he could. He had already missed three buses during his over sleeping but he could make it just in time for the next one following. 

If only his misfortune had stopped at waking up late. After his quick shower, he went on to change into the outfit he had prepared the night before. Only to drop deodorant on the navy pants as the last of it fell out and splattered onto it. With no time to clean it up he threw on another pair of khakis that just barely zipped up, having saved them since college. Saving off the self deprecating thoughts of gaining probably just two more pounds, he shoved on his socks and shoes and quickly gathered his things. 

His hair would have to air dry throughout the commute, there was no way he could spend the twenty minutes trying to tame the curls as best as he could. The good thing was his coffee machine had brewed into his travel mug. Hastily he gathered what was needed for the work day, needing the boards and his laptop for the presentation. With everything in his satchel and coffee mug in hand, Sammy just barely made it to the bus stop before it left and he hopped on. 

The Omega panted and shook slightly as he sipped his coffee and held onto the railings as his boards where stuck under his pit with the arm he was using to drink. It seemed as if the day was going to turn around for him. There was traffic, but enough to just make him two or three minutes late to the meeting. Though he was plenty prepared with what he was going to say to the client and in front of his boss, if only he was paying attention at how the bus driver was stopping. 

Though it was much too late for Sammy to stop himself from taking a sip from the travel mug when the driver stopped hard as a soccer mom van cut him off. It sudden stop caused his coffee to spill onto his white button up and onto his boards that he so desperately needed to show the client. He whined deeply as soon as it registered with what happened. There was no way he could help himself with cleaning up the coffee on the crowded bus until he got to his stop. 

This left him time to wallow in self-pity, especially now that traffic was a complete stand still. Time ticked down as they made the agonizingly slow crawl through the late morning traffic. With the time that he was going at before, he would’ve had time to spare at the office to get himself cleaned up and with his boards in place. Now he would barely even be able to make it to the meeting room. 

The coffee that had spilled onto him had pained before, but the searing had gone away by the time they had made it to his stop. Without a second’s hesitation he practically shoved his way passed everyone and rushed into the building. His throat tightened more and more as the minutes ticked down to his meeting time, seeing as he would be unprofessionally late for his first and most important meeting ever. 

He dodged everyone in the lobby as best as he could, sniffling and nibbling at his lip anxiously as he managed to get into the elevator. Alphas and even the Betas in the elevator stared down at him, instinct kicking in to comfort the sad Omega as the pheromones rolled off of him. Though their gaze made him feel even smaller than he already was, making him fidget in his spot until the doors opened up for his floor. Sammy pushed his way through the tall Alphas and Betas, stumbling out of the elevators with a huff and nearly tripping. 

The floor with all of the meeting rooms was mostly empty, save for the few employees that roamed around doing small tasks and the receptionist. She immediately saw him, her chipper smile faltering as she saw him as disheveled as he was. Sammy simply gave her a tight smile and rushed passed her to make his way into the bathroom. There he took out his phone seeing that he was already late by ten minutes with loads of texts and calls from his partners and boss. They told him that they were stalling the client, who was late themselves. 

Shooting a quick text to them about his shirt, he got to work getting himself cleaned up in the (thankfully) empty bathroom. His blazer was saved as well as his khakis, so he was lucky there. He wet a paper towel and tried his hardest to get some of the coffee stain out. Tearing up as he looked to his coffee stained board as well, doing his best with smoothing down his hair as the fizz sat in. He didn’t hear someone come into the bathroom as turned to get more paper towels from the dispenser. 

He didn’t hear the door open, nor did he see the man enter into the bathroom. When he turned and walked towards the sink, he was met with a hard body enough to fall right on his bottom, making him grunt roughly and look up to the surprised man. “I-I’m so sorry,” he started and nibbled at his lip as he tried to stop the tears that were building in his eyes, “I-I...sorry.” 

The tall Alpha was caught off guard by the emotional Omega that he had run into. “Uh,” he started awkwardly, “It’s...you’re fine. It happens. No big deal. Don’t cry.” The Alpha reached his hand down and the Omega took it after sniffling a few times, “Are you hurt? Don’t cry. It okay.” 

Sammy rubbed his eyes from the tears that didn't stop falling, “I’m n-not hurt...I’m okay, for the most part.” The shorter calmed enough to look up at the Alpha, admiring his handsome face for a second before bursting out into tears again. “I-I’ve had a terrible m-morning,” he whined as he cried. “I-I have a p-pr-presentation to do and I am late for it already, b-but I dropped coffee on the o-only shirt I have and all the b-boards for the clients. T-This is my f-first project w-where I-I wa-as the lead an-and this j-just shows that I can’t do it!” 

The Alpha blinked again and swallowed hard, oddly effected by the Omega’s out burst, “Hey...hey. Just breath.” The man waited for the smaller’s breathing to slow down before speaking again, “It’s okay. You still showed up even with all the bad stuff that happened to you. That counts for something. I’m sure that your client will understand what happened...especially if you have other ways of showing what you have to offer.” The Alpha smiled at the other, his hazel eyes looking oddly beautiful in the weird lighting of the bathroom. “You have something else to show what you have?” 

Sammy sniffled and blew his nose into the rough paper towel and nodded, “I have everything on my laptop.” 

“There you go,” he smiled, “Nothing to worry about. All is okay. I’m sure you’ll do just fine.” He nodded. “We all drop coffee on ourselves sometimes,” he continued to try and comfort the Omega who was now sniffling less, “If it makes you feel better, underneath this suit jacket, there are probably pit stains bigger than my face.” 

With that Sammy couldn’t help but to start laughing and even snorted, thinking of how ridiculous he sounded. “T-That’s...that’s pretty gross,” he said with a deep blush, “Though, it does make me feel better.” 

A fond smile grew on the Alpha’s fact, “Good. I’m glad. Despite all of this, I’m sure you have the presentation in the bag.” He gave him a nod and gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze, “Might as well button up the blazer and go get your presentation ready.” 

Sammy nodded at the Alpha, a small smile reaching his lips as he fixed the shirt and buttoned up. “I’ll have to wing some of it,” he murmured in thought and sighed as he sniffled once more, “Thank you stranger. I needed something good to happen to me today.” Sammy let in a long breath and released it to calm the rest of his nerves before fixing up his hair a little bit again. “Thank you, sorry for keeping you from using the bathroom,” he giggled softly and watched the Alpha nod at him before heading towards the meeting room. 

Once he was there he scrambled to get everything ready, displaying the board despite the coffee stains and posting up the designs he had made for the client for his new sport’s magazine website, posters, and so on and so forth. With that done, he informed them of what he had planned to say towards the client as he fixed himself up some more hearing the door of the meeting room open up. 

A hot blush rose to his freckled cheeks as soon as he looked to the Alpha that he had run into in the bathroom. Of course this would happen to him. The Alpha smiled knowingly at the Omega and extended his hand to him, “Nice to meet you. Samuel, correct? I’ve heard wonderful things about you.” 

A sigh of relief escaped him and he nodded at him, “Sam or Sammy is fine. Nice to finally meet you, Heath. I hope that I will be able to impress you today.” The Omega shook his head and smiled warmly. 

“By what I’ve seen so far, I like to think that I am already sold,” Heath replied with a soft chuckle. 

At that moment, Sammy only think of all of the shitty things that happened to him and how everything seemed to be just a happy accident. 

[hotd-redscar]

Ch.1- Before the Dead’s Harvest

Introduction

In the 21st Century, the world has taken a new shape as the Cold War came to an end with the NATO victorious over the USSR. The United States controls military bases all over the World, stretching from the Eastern Pacific to Northern Europe and from East Africa all the way up to the Middle East supported by Turkey, UAE and Israel. This sphere of influence continued to grow relentlessly. In the years after the collapse, U.S and its NATO allies have attempted to coerce or manipulate several east European countries, formerly part of the Eastern bloc into joining the European Union and potentially NATO as they plan to expand, in order to "keep the enduring peace and freedom of people around the world from Tyranny and Aggression". Due to this, Russia had growing concerns since the beginning of the collapse as the West kept their hands out of the country's failing economy and aiding only a few high ranking bureaucrats who agrees to become vassals in return for financial gains. This new tension escalated with the Invasion of Iraq and The War on Terror, until finally it reached its peak with the Invasion of Georgia, when Russia finally came to realize that they couldn't trust the West and thus, began the efforts to modernize and re-equip all branches of the Russian Military. The West knowing this, made their own efforts to counter the new advances of the Russians by reactivating their cold war's weapon programs, one of the most prominent is Bioweapons.

In this timeline, Bioweapons have taken the forefront beyond nuclear weapons research and on par with the effort in military drones research. Across many nations, the only way to ensure legitimacy of governments and absolute security is through possession of biological weapons which are essentially the new Mutually Assured Destruction (MAD) strategy. The invading country maybe victorious initially but after releasing the bio weapon, the contagion will lay dormant in the host bodies of the enemy soldiers and eventually spreading to the invaders' homeland when they return. This would lead to countless deaths in both countries and most likely the rest of the world as Bio weapons don't discriminate between friend and foes. The new advancements in gene editing makes this a possibility. The dark scourge looms over the atmosphere as nations around the world braces for the beginning of a new war never witnessed before in history of mankind.

Ch.1: Before the Dead's Harvest

- Valery's Tools and Repair Shop, Red Light District, Tokonosu City-

The Sun comes up in the distance of the horizon gradually painting the sky from hues of light purple-blue to a mellow orange. The street lights switches off once again just as the songs of the morning birds resounds through the calm skies. In the neighborhood, the neon flush lights from the nightclubs after a night of wild partying blinks shut one after another, eventually all of them as the rays sunlight reaches the streets. Once again, the city streets are bustling with people, doing mundane tasks such as, travelling to work, preparing to open shops, and having exercises in the parks as does some senior citizens and fitness enthusiasts. All while everything in the Red Light Districts remains quiet as there is barely anyone who works there, save for those just passing thorough and some shops like Valery's that couldn't afford to be in the shopping district. On the tool shop's 1st floor, there's the main emporium room with shelves of tools encased behind tempered fiber glass locked by a steel cage door. There's a small kitchen at the back of the shop which had seen better days as it seems seldom used. Luka knows how to cook but he uncle insists that he eats outside as their expenditure comes quite peachy for gas bills. Then, there's the workshop and bathroom. The workshop is a room used for custom jobs, fixing things and even occasionally as Luka's makeshift study room. In the far back of the workshop are shelves and crates full of supplies for the merchandise and materials for the jobs, some are draped in cloth to protect them. On the 2nd floor, there are two bedrooms, Valery's and Luka's Bedrooms. Valery's is just plain, it includes a small desk next to a bookcase where a laptop sits, a wooden wardrobe in the far corner of the room, a ceiling fan which is essential during summer and a radiator to keep warm during winter. His mattress lays next to the window looking out at the back alleyway that stretches across from one side of the block to the other. Luka's room, is just as similar except there's a few additions, most notably is the punching bag which cantilevers from the ceiling, in the opposite side of the room is the study table which happens to be next to the window. Luka doesn't' hate the table, but he prefers using the workbench in the workshop as it allows him to sit on a chair rather than having his legs cramped on the bedroom floor. Luka sleeps deeply on the mattress next to the study table after an exhausting chain of events yesterday. Not even the sunlight shining through the window, cast over his eyes could wake him up. His phone alarm rings.

*BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP-BEEP*

Luka slowly opens his eyes as he wakes up to the weird noise which happens to be his phone alarm. He taps the alarm off as it stops and looks at the phone. He didn't react for a moment until he realizes what time it is. Why of course! It's 7 am! The kids at are probably heading to school by now and that's only because most of them live closer to school than he does. It will take him 1 hour to arrive at a bus stop and another 5 minutes to rush to school. Realizing this, Luka jumps up and runs straight across the room to his wardrobe as he hurriedly removes a hangar with a shirt and a fold of trousers. The wardrobe contains Luka's personal items he brought with him when he immigrated to Japan. In the wardrobe, a few of these can be seen as they include his past memorabilia: An Old Novel Book with a title written in Russian, "Under the Moscow nights", his personal stash of poker cards, a few Polaroid photos of him when he was younger, a music CD featuring Russian popstar Oleg Gazmanov and a military uniform with a "K" labelled on the rank hangs on the rail. In the furthest corner, there's a picture frame, showing a group of young boys dressed in military camo fatigues posing in front of what seems to be a military barracks with a tall mustached man at the rear middle wearing the same fatigues but with a maroon beret. A boy who looks similar to Luka can be seen in the photo with a similar scar, but with a much shorter haircut. There's a typed annotation in the lower right corner of the photo which upon closer inspection reads, "Colonel Pronin and the boys, Site-UZ585 'Tur'."

Luka tosses his pajamas aside as he quickly shoved his body into the school uniform, this time it's the summer uniform. He slam shuts the wardrobe, grabs his school bag and rushes downstairs. Within moments, he's outside his uncle's shop and he continues running towards the main road. Reaching the main road of CBD area, Luka turns around the corner and brushes past people as he hurries to the bus stop. He sees the bus number on a bus as it comes to stop at the designated place, it's the number that'll take his close enough to the school! Luka sprints faster as the last passenger is boarding the bus. Just as the bus door was about to close, Luka jumps in at the right moment. The bus driver looks astonished at the boy, as he had never seen a student crazy enough to try squeezing in on a closing bus door. Then he just points his finger at the card reader gesturing him to tap in and take a seat, pretending to ignore what just happened. The bus shuts the door completely this time as the bus takes off to the other side of town.

- Tokonosu Daiichi High Main Road, 1 Hour later –

The bus reaches the road leading to the school and stops at a station just before the last stop where Luka needs to get off. The bus moves again, as it drives towards the last stop before returning to the CBD. Suddenly, the car at the front of the bus stopped and the bus stopped too on the middle of the road nowhere near a checkpoint. Soon all the cars honked, even though it is very rude to honk at other people's cars in Japan, right now no one cares about any bit decency, especially when they are all late for work. The bus driver honks his horn too, feeling upset about the sudden stoppage in the traffic. If the cars in front don't move now, Luka is most certainly going to get a long detention by being forced to stay outside of class, and a long detention means no lessons, and that means he just threw his own money at the school and received nothing in return. Luka walks up next to the driver and so did the other passengers.

"Dear Passengers, please be seated. There's nothing to be worried about. This bus will reach its destination in time, I will make sure that it does."

The driver breaking the traffic rules, pushes the bus out of the line and drives along an adjacent lane. Luka looks through the window and sees a small line of cars behind a parcel delivery truck which had stopped. As the bus passes the window of the delivery truck, Luka sees two men with grey blackened skin inside slumped in their seats, with blood oozing out from their mouth. Luka could sense that there's something seriously wrong here but he couldn't do anything about it as he's not a traffic police officer. He simply snaps a photo of them and takes note of it as the bus steers back onto the original lane.

Soon he arrives at the bus stop and as the bus opens its doors, he runs out of the bus without a even breather to stretch his legs as he seems used to it. After a few minutes, he finally arrives in front of the school, but sees a nasty surprise. He realizes that the school's gates are now closed as he stands before the large metal bars that is barring him from taking his lessons. Luka clicks his tongue against his lips as he realizes this. If only he hadn't stayed behind yesterday, if only he had cut the conversation short and ran home sooner. Oh bother.

- Central District, Near Red Light District, Tokonosu city, Yesterday -

The city's night life is vibrant with lights emitting hues of red, blue, green and yellows as pedestrians commute the CBD towards home after a long day's work. Some went to the diners and bars, looking for something to eat and drink to their heart's content, while others refused their merry colleagues as they didn't want to take any chances with their spouses complaining to them about not coming home early, but to some, their work is just starting. Luka rushes onwards as he dodges past pedestrians in one of the most crowded times of the day in Tokonosu city. He knew there's no enough time as the customer is probably waiting for at least 15 minutes by now as he tries to run as fast as he could, turning around corners of streets and buildings as he finally reaches one of the most infamous places in Tokonosu, a place full of vice and amour. At every turn of the street, weird old men, shady advertisers and of course, the girls dressed in skimpy revealing clothes, some not even wearing anything more than a swimsuit advertising their services and can be seen emerging as if they've come out of their dwellings to look for prey. Luka ignores them as he turns straight around a corner of a road and stops next to a certain building, which looks abit worn down and has a neon sign in bright red that read's "Valery Tools and Repair Shop".

Luka quickly opens the wooden door and gets inside, where two men, a middle aged Caucasian man behind the counter and a much old man wearing a black suit jacket, fedora, black leather gloves and a pair of black Italian designer dress shoes. The old man carries two luggage, one is a business suitcase adorned with a gold flower on the side and a larger suitcase that can be rolled around, presumably his personal belongings. The old man gives a faint smile at Luka and waves at him, ushering him to come in as he is about to share with him the details of the job. His uncle looks frustrated as Luka usually comes home straight after school.

"Hey Luka! What took you so long boy! Do you know how long Mr. Kuzen has been waiting?!"

"15 minutes?"

"No! It's been 30 minutes! And—WHY is there blood all over your shirt?!"

Valery points at Luka's shirt which seems to be dripping with blood.

"It's just red paint. Some guy renovating a shop spilled some on me. It was my fault."

"No! I can smell iron from here! That's not paint! You had gotten into a fight boy?!"

"No, I swear it's just paint. It just smells like iron."

"You dare_UGH! Never mind, just get changed quickly lest people get wrong idea and come down quickly afterwards."

"Yes sir."

Luka rushes straight for his room upstairs to get changed as Valery and Mr. Kuzen chats downstairs while they wait.

"I'm apologies Mr. Kuzen. The boy is just unpredictable sometimes. I will ensure that this doesn't happen again."

"No worries, Valery. Boys have their own problems I can attest to that myself when I was growing up. All that matters is that the crafts man is here and will be ready soon to receive the job."

Though the man seems content at least with the fact that Luka is here, his face hides something more serious as he seems somewhat anxious. Then the old man adds,

"Besides, this is going to be the last order he takes from me. I'll be leaving for a long business trip soon."

Hearing that from Mr. Kuzen, Valery became curious as to why this would be the last job from his favorite customer.

"Mr. Kuzen, may I ask as to why this is so? Were we not good service to you?"

"It would be best you don't know Valery. I'm a man with many names and many lives before, someday a time comes for me to abandon them to receive a fresh slate that can be written once again, much like a cycle. At least that's how I see life at its very bare bones. A cycle that keeps on renewing."

"Well…, if you say so. Still, it's sad that you will gone and I will miss you as my best paying customer."

"I'm sure there will be more customers like me Valery. There's always a need for a tool shop that doesn't keep the details of their customers on the register. They might even pay bigger sums than I did."

"Thanks for the encouragement. I guess the shop will have to bear with it for a while."

Valery opened his shop in the early 2000's after years of working as a dock worker at Nagoya Harbor saving enough money to move to Tokonotsu where he planned to aim big. He initially became a sailor after the Soviet economy collapsed in the 1990s which was when he travelled to Japan, liking the location of the place and the safe atmosphere compared to Russia which was in turmoil, full of riots and gang violence during the time. Unfortunately, Valery didn't manage to get successful enough and was instead confined to a small shop in the little known side of town where not a lot of normal customers go to. There were occasional shady individuals who frequents his shop to use his services on condition that he doesn't keep record of the transactions in return for large sums of money. Having no choice, Valery complies with them and since then has been servicing such types of people with Mr. Kuzen being the best paying of them all. Valery acquainted Kuzen five years ago when his shop was struggling and since then he came to his shop for mundane repairs and modification/adjustment of things including leather wear, containers, tools and customizing padlocks. Valery was proficient with these tasks as he worked on various odds jobs in Russia and he was an Army mechanic during his conscription years. Since Luka immigrated to live with his uncle two years ago, Valery discovered that the boy too has a talent in the crafts and though they were improvised and crude, Valery trained him by correcting the usage of the tools and methods. In a short amount of time, Luka adapted well to his techniques and he was repairing and crafting things much more efficiently compared to the crude welds and cuts made before then.

As they were conversing, Luka changed his clothes and comes down the stair as fast as he could. Once he arrived, the two men looked at the boy and smiles at him.

"Luka, are you ready to hear me out?"

"Yes, sir."

Soon Luka gets down to business by ushering the old man to the back of the shop. requests Valery to stay at the front counter of the shop while he and Luka head to the workshop room to discuss the details privately. Once the two were inside the room, Mr. Kuzen tells him about the job.

"Alright, here's the details boy."

Kuzen hands out a list of things to modify the suitcase decorated with the golden insignia, then he explains it in details as to what he means by each of the items. Luka listens intently to the details till the last item in the list. After comprehending the details of the modifications to be made, Luka confirms that he understood by reiterating everything from his own words and how he plans to do so.

First of all, the outside of the case needs to be replaced, by removing the insignia and plastering a new leather piece over the suitcase with a logo that represents an existing company that is associated with. This means removing the entire outer leatherwork and carefully masking the inner layer with a fitting that would ensure that the leather cover remains intact before replacing the metal brackets in the corner. Additionally, Kuzen wants there to be a layer of pure aluminum film over the interior lining, plus padded walls of industrial Styrofoam with a rectangular dimension cut out in the middle secured by soldering. Before Luka seals the interior with solder, Kuzen will transfer a folder and a small rectangular parcel to be placed in the padded wall from his big roller suitcase, Luka doesn't ask about what they are, knowing Kuzen is not the type to give free info despite being friendly. Finally, he wants the suitcase handle to be reinforced with additional metal clips in order to support it and additionally modify the suitcase combination lock with a heavier sliding button which won't move even with the right digits unless the pin lock next to it is turned clockwise. As Luka manages to remember all the steps, he quickly proceeds with the first step removing the L-shaped clamps with a screwdriver, knowing this job will take a while before he can sleep.

- A few Hours Later -

After adjusting the O-rings in the lock mechanism and making sure the weight of the suitcase is equal on both sides, Luka calls out to who waited patiently in the corner of the room.

"It's complete, sir. You may try it out now."

Kuzen walks up to the large table in the middle of the room with bit of aluminum, leather and wood shavings scattered around, along with the old insignia that once bored on the suitcase. Kuzen tries it out and seems to be satisfied with the expression on his face. Kuzen then opens the lid of the suitcase before opening the zip on his larger suitcase, taking out a bundle of Car Magazines, Instruction Manuals and Sales Room Catalogues of the latest car models in Japan. He then closes the suitcase, searing the sliding hinges shut, resetting the lock combination and changing it, before he turns the pinhole next to it counter-clockwise.

*Click* the suitcase is locked and ready to be carried as Kusen extends his palm to Luka in handshake gesture.

"Thank you, Luka. I appreciate all your hard work."

"No problem,…..but now about the payment."

chuckles, which is rare coming from him.

"Hehe, a serious one, huh? Well, that's a professional attitude and you're going to need it later down in life. Here's your payment."

Kuzen gives Luka a large wad of cash in 10,000 yen notes totaling 600,000 yen, which is enough to cover the shop bills, living expenses including rent and Luka's school fees. Additionally, a small set of keys with a small oval shaped keychain. Luka attempts to return the set of keys.

"Hey old man, I think you should check your eye therapist before you leave. You seem to be giving me something that belong to you."

"Haha, nope. My eyes are as sharp as a rabbit! I actually gave this to you as a parting gift. I'm not returning to this country for quite some time. So, take it."

Kuzen hands back the keys.

"Oh, I almost forgot."

Kuzen then hands out another piece of item, a hand written piece of paper indicating two addresses, one which is close by near a department store.

"I don't need either of them. Why are you giving me these?"

Kuzen, smiles with his eyes showing an expression that Luka hasn't seen before from him.

"I have expectations in you. I believe that you can do something I wasn't able to do. This key is personally my last payment to you. It has nothing to do with the job. The key holds all of my hope that is left in this country. I insist you take it, and you use it. Follow the addresses I gave you and you'll find out where the key goes."

Seeing Kuzen being so insistent on offering the set of keys to him. Luka cannot refuse as he takes them and drops them into his pocket.

"Okay, thanks."

"Good, I'll be heading off to the airport now. Thank you for everything, Luka. Farewell."

The old man without another word, takes off as he exits the room, out of the shop and finally out to the streets disappearing into the night, possibly never returning. In a way, Luka and the mysterious old man may have shared more than a few similarities as if he's the older version of Luka himself.

Uncle Valery comes into the workshop and asks Luka if he has the payment. Without looking at him, Luka calmly raises the wad of cash in the air with his right arm with Uncle Valery breathing a sigh of relief.

"At least he didn't forget to pay, I saw him ran off earlier and I was worried, though a little surprised."

Luka appears to not care what his uncle said, he could only remember the face of the old man who he has known since he arrived here. He couldn't forget that faint smile from his face. Just what did he see in Luka? He didn't do anything to deserve a smile as they were just doing business. He stops thinking of it as he turns towards the door and hands the wad of cash to his uncle before walking out of the room, heading upstairs to his bedroom to sleep as it's very late now.

"*Sigh*…what a crazy day, getting beaten up by thugs, a weird girl tell me her contacts for no reason and an old customer giving me his personal belongings. I think my head's going to ache a lot more tomorrow after this."

Currently, the time is 1:30 am. It took some time with a couple trials and errors getting 's suitcase modified to specifications. The part with changing the locks took the most time, filing down the o rings and adjusting the pressure of the sears and the slide to click together. Luka hopes to never work on locks again, as it was a real pain in the ass.

As he was just about to dive onto his futon mattress, he saw a piece of card that he must have dropped earlier while changing clothes. He picks it up and realizes it is Noel's contact details.

"Oh, it's her's."

He wants to store it away on his bookshelf yet at the same time, he feels uneasy about not searching up the contact on his phone. He has read on the culture forums before, that it is not polite to ignore name card when presented by a colleague or a business partner and shoving it in the pocket afterwards. This is considered rude in the country and Luka deeply feels that he has to follow the rules to fit in to society.

'You've gotta follow the flock', he remembers Kenichi words from earlier yesterday. He accepts and opens his phone contacts to enter the name, number and the Twitter username in the page. Then, he decides to check out the website on Twitter in his phone browser. He registers a random account for himself, 'Kamemaru', before redirecting to see Noel's Twitter page. The page is decorated with themes of light pink, sky blue and mint green, and a picture of an anime cat. The middle top of the page reads 'Welcome, have a nice latte and enjoy my page. Amusez-vous!'

"Again, writing words that I don't understand. I wonder how her friends put up with her."

He then scrolls down to see her posts. Some of them are her drawings and some are videos of her recording herself singing.

'No, I won't listen to them. Anything that doesn't sound like Oleg Gazmanov won't sit well with me.'

He keeps scrolling downwards as he sees a lot more things, gymnastics, ballet dancing, fencing, piano play, and even violin and painting. He keeps scrolling and the more he does, the wider the range becomes. She has various awards both in France and in Japan, and all of them are top champ awards for juniors. Best performances, best plays, best writings, best academics the list goes on and they all center on national competitions. She has even learnt Judo, Karate and even Skeet Shooting. To make things more astonishing, she did all that in a span of 3 years and kept changing every 5 months to do something else. Luka couldn't imagine what kind of person Noel really is, and yet compare her to what he saw earlier today. If only she had more tactfulness, she could've turned this into a profession. Even the martial arts skills she has when compared to Luka's fighting arts. Noel's is applicable in a professional sports setting while Luka would just end up tearing someone's head apart if he uses his techniques. Maybe she's just an innate genius who hasn't realized her potential.

It took a year of learning for Luka to get used to his subjects at school and even as he tried to learn all his Japanese subjects, using all his concentration power, he only manages to get to a C class.

'Enough. People are people. There's no changing it.'

He sets the alarm, closes his phone and heads to sleep trying to forget about everything that has happened yesterday. The half-moon sits directly up high in the night sky overlooking the city as the streets remains dead quiet with the occasional cold gusts of wind blowing through the streets and a dog or two howling and barking. But in the nightlife district, the sounds are live with music blaring from speakers, reverberating off the walls of buildings nearby as the night is still young for them. Luka had no problem sleeping previous nights but now after a long period of exhaustion he feels a little too sensitive to the noises. He covers his head with the blanket as he eventually manages to drift to sleep.

-- Tokonosu Daiichi High, Present time --

Luka looks at the school gate in front of him, which stands between him and his classes, paid for with his hard earned cash. There no way this gate is going to prevent him from getting to his class. He's going to find a way to sneak in without anyone noticing.

"I'll show you, Damned School. You're not eating my money just like that."

- To be Continued -

[imgilmoregirl]

The Bookshop Owner (Chapter 11)

AO3 Link

Walking to the bedroom she had taken as hers, Belle found her purse and picked her phone from there, immediately calling her best friend before a panic attack could reach her. Each ring made her heart beat faster, her eyes blinking repeatedly to fight against the tears, the need to speak to someone who would be able to light her thoughts, almost becoming a painful thing. When the other woman picked up, Belle rushed to the point even before she could end the "hello" she was saying.

"Ruby, I've made a mistake."

"Wait, just a minute." Ruby asked, and there seemed to be voices speaking loudly behind her, what made Belle imagine that, if she wasn't in a pub she should be visiting some of Dorothy's friends. It took her a while to speak again, but when she did, the noise was gone. "Have you already sleep with him? Was it so bad? He didn't last or - "

Rolling her eyes, Belle leaned against the wall behind her, asking herself what was the problem with her friends. Maybe they were just a bunch of glee thirty-somethings that associated other people's happiness with a satisfying relationship. Or a satisfying night. Whatever it was, that didn't apply to Belle.

"Why everybody keeps thinking I am going to sleep with Adam?" She asked with disbelief.

"So, you didn't sleep with him?"

"Obviously not! Dear God, Ruby!"

On the other end of the line, her best friend sighed, exasperated. "Then what happened?"

She was about to sound like a teenager, but she didn't know if she really cared about that, Belle was desperate, because she didn't know what to do anymore or how to deal with her feelings.

"I think I still love him, but he almost kissed me and claimed it to be a mistake."

"Belle, dear beauty, you need to stop." Ruby's soft voice came empathic through the phone. "Don't freak out, ok? Just keep acting normal and looking gorgeous. He will change his mind and then you'll have something really interesting to tell me."

"Not helping."

"You can always come back to Will. I've heard that he is still into you, just afraid of Gideon."

A gasp left her mouth, because she couldn't believe that Ruby was mocking her about Will, the man whose relationship with her had been the most terrible joke the universe could have done. They met at a pub she went to have a glass of wine after a hard day at work about a year and a half ago, he was trying to forget his fiancée, a rich woman called Anastasia, that broke up with him to marry another. Belle liked the fact that he was able to make her laugh and feel light.

But their romance didn't last more than three months. Gideon hated the guy and let it clear from the very start, doing whatever he could to keep Will away. He didn't have to worry for longer, though, as Anastasia came back to Will's life and he just simply stopped seeing Belle, who only realised she wasn't going to see him ever again, when she was already sat alone in another pub. There was no chance he could still be into her and even if he did, Belle was long over him.

"You are not funny."

"Have you ever thought about trying women then?"

Her jaw dropped. Not that there was a reason for that, since Ruby dated women ever since they met and had already suggested that very same thing a billion times, but Belle didn't think that would work for her. What she would like trying right now was wearing a suit, holding a cane and was dangerously older than her.

"Ruby Lucas, you are the worst friend ever."

"That worked for me, I don't see why it wouldn't for you."

Laughing, Belle still felt insecure, but was relaxed and knew that she could just put on a smiley face, go downstairs and pray for the weekend to pass quickly, just like she told her son to do so. "I'll end the call right now."

"Details are important!" Ruby remembered, eager for something to entertain her when Belle came back to London.

Not caring to answer that, she rang out the phone, just as Gideon entered her room.

"Hey mama, who was it?"

"Your aunt Ruby being silly." Belle answered, smiling at him as she slipped the phone inside her bag and grabbed his arm. "Come on, babe, we have a long day ahead."

They went down to meet Neal and Gold and then, they locked the house and went straight to the pier. Earlier during the breakfast, Belle tried to convince Adam to go there with the car, so he wouldn't have to walk too much and cause himself pain, because of the bad knee, but he assured her that he was going to completely fine and a walk wasn't going to take him down. She didn't argue a lot, since she didn't know how things worked with his leg, but after Belle saw the sore on his face when he climbed up the stairs without the cane, she wasn't sure if they still should do this. However, she didn't find courage inside herself to suggest taking the car, so they just walked in silence.

Seeing the sea had always pleased her. It remembered her of good days with her mother in Australia, it made her nostalgic and brought her the wish to see the country she left many years ago to never come back. London, that initially was just supposed to be her stay during college, had become her home very quickly, and even though she would appreciate visiting her childhood country, she couldn’t picture herself leaving England forever anymore.

The day was beautiful, less cloudy than most days around there, the weather starting to get hot as the summer time approached slowly. Belle couldn’t help but want to take off her shoes and ran through the rocky beach until her feet touched the cold water, just like she had done in the past with a really smaller version of Neal by her side, his hand gripping at hers as they laughed and splashed water on each other before taking Adam with them and soaking his whole suit. Good memories were those, belonging to a time where she swore her happiness would last forever. Bad thing she didn’t live in a fairy tale, because in the real world there were no happily ever afters.

"Hot dogs!" Neal exclaimed pointing at snack bar, almost echoing the child she was remembering about just a minute ago. "Do you want one, brother?"

Gideon shrugged as if he wasn’t giving it much attention, but followed Neal as he started to walk to get the food. "Yeah, I'm hungry."

Sighing deeply, Belle leaned against the guard-rail, looking down at the beach, her gaze fixed in the waves. "Alone again," she muttered.

"Aye." Gold agreed, glancing at the snack bar where the boys disappeared to, before taking a step in her direction, his hand resting at the rail near her arm. "Listen, I'm sorry for what I've said earlier. I didn't mean that, I just thought that I shouldn't be messing with your life again."

"Trying to protect me never really worked before." Belle chuckled without any humour.

"I guess you're right." There was bitterness and a little self-loathing that only someone who truly knew him, could recognize in his voice. "If I just gave us more chances, we wouldn't be here today."

"Making the same mistakes we did in this place so long ago it's not what I want, Adam." She answered, finally meeting his brown eyes, the words came harshly, but also, full of pain. "I just wanted you, back then, I wanted to be chosen, I tried to say this a lot of times but you never listened. You just went away."

His fingers made their way to her arm, closing around her wrist as his thumb rubbed circles in her skin, the tender touch almost breaking her heart in tiny pieces. She wanted to throw her arms around his neck so badly, that she had to convince herself to stay still.

"I was afraid, Belle. What Milah did, broke me, mostly because she didn't care a bit for Neal. I wasn't sure if I should start it all again so soon, even though I loved you and knew that you were nothing like her, I still had this urge to back away. I told myself that you were young and you would find someone better, with less problems and closer to your age."

"Never happened." Belle replied, shaking her head. "The guys I knew after you, were all a bunch of selfish idiots. None of them acted like men, just grownup schoolboys."

Truth be told, all her relationships sucked, Will was just the last one to her list of failures. Belle didn’t date a lot, because she didn’t have time or disposition for it, and the times she did just made her understand how precious it could be to stay single. There was this french guy, Gaston she met when Gideon was three, that just irritated her with the fact that he barely opened a book or two during his whole life. She had no luck in the romantic department.

"What about you?” Belle managed to ask Gold, a little afraid of his answer. “No woman got your heart?"

"My office in Glasgow got my heart, no one else." He said with a half-smile. "I tried a couple of dates, but nothing lasted more than a night."

"Well, I hope you don't have another lost child around there." Belle laughed, but his face went pale at the thought and she freed her wrist from his hand to touch his shoulder with an apologetic smile. "Sorry, bad joke."

"I don't usually take the risk of impregnating anyone, dearie." Adam said with confidence.

Nodding, Belle muttered under her breath: "But you took with me."

"Yeah, I did."

Naïve she was in the past, stupid to believe in unsafe methods, insisting to feel him completely on her very first time with no barrier between them, so it would be more special and what she got was a baby, nine months later. Belle sighed looking around the pier to avoid Gold’s eyes, knowing that she couldn’t face him with the remembrance of their first lovemaking passing through her mind, when she got caught with a sight of something very interesting and tapped at his arm softly, pointing at a little shop with a wave of her head.

"Oh, dear Lord, look at that!"

"What?" Adam asked, trying to find what she was pointing at as Belle started to walk and drag him with her to a hanger full of beachy clothes.

"Black Hawaiian shirts!" She said in tone of wonder, taking one of them from the hanger to show him. “I need to get this."

The shirt was a black in lighter black piece with those horrible prints that were Adam Gold’s worse nightmare, a grimace immediately filled his face.

"Belle - "

"Imagine Gideon with one of those!" Belle said, cheerfully picking another shirt from the hanger, but this time one that had golden prints on the black fabric. "And you of course, with this one here. We just need to find the right ones for Neal and I now."

"I'm not going to wear this!" Adam said with wide eyes.

"Oh, you are, and I'm buying you a pair of jeans."

"No way."

Belle went inside the shop, completely happy with her new discover and started to look into a pile of dark jeans, but she apparently didn’t find what she wanted, because she went to another that had pieces made of a light-blue fabric. Adam just looked horrified at everything, loving his suits even more at the sight of every knew clothes he laid his eyes on.

"It's for sale. I don't think my day can get better than that." Belle said, picking a pair of jeans that had a red tag and pushing to him alongside with the black and gold shirt. "Try these."

"No."

"Yes.” She insisted. “Go on."

She narrowed her eyes, giving him her most dangerous glance, that let it very clear that it was a command that he should obey, so Adam snorted and grabbed the clothes from her, going to the dresser as she laughed to herself and picked another black Hawaiian shirt, one with dark-blue stamps, before she found one for herself that had the same golden print that Adam's. Maybe he was right, she thought, and they were ridiculous, but no one was stopping her to take a picture with all of them being ridiculous with her.

"I'm feeling weird." Gold said, opening the door of the dresser to let her see him wearing anything other than his suits for the first time in her life.

Belle felt breathless. He looked so handsome that she had no words to say how much it affected her, the jeans fitted perfectly, the shirt was unbuttoned on the highest part, showing his smooth chest and making her want to ran her hands thought the triangle of skin, kissing his neck and sinking her fingers on the long stripes of his greyer hair. Damn Jefferson, he knew it all the time, she was going to fall on Gold's arms sooner or later and now she was completely sure of it.

"You look great." Belle swallowed.

"I'm putting on my suit again."

"Adam!" She protested as he closed the door, ending her moment of contemplation.

"You are not winning this, sweetheart."

"I'm buying those clothes, whether you like it or not!" She warned him, trying to think about another way to make him put on those clothes again, Belle placed the clothes on the counter, smiling at the seller when her phone started to ring loudly and she looked inside her purse for a few instants before reaching it, Gideon's number glowing on the screen. "Hey, sweetie."

"Mama, where are you, Neal and I are looking for you and Gold."

"We are inside a shop." She informed. "Wait for me where we were before."

"Right, be quick." Gideon asked before ending the call.

It took another long moment, but Gold finally opened the door, leaving the dresser on his suit once more. Belle picked the clothes from him, putting them on the pile that the seller was already packing.

"Can you wear at least the shirt later?" She asked, blinking her eyes sweetly.

Gold narrowed his eyes. "What do I win with that?"

"You'll never know if you don't try."

[nobodys-pearls]

Hit on Me

A Kimax AU where Max and Kim are two pro-fighting sportscasters who are in love but haven’t realized it yet. Also cue aro/ace Alix -who’s having a lot more fun with all this than she should.

Read on [AO3]

“Okay Max, you can do it. This will be easy. Just take a deep breath and go through what you want to say, just how you practiced.” Max mumbled to himself, adjusting his glasses as he walked down the long office hallway. He reached the elevators and quickly pushed the button, tapping his foot as he waited for the light above his floor number to flash. It was oddly quiet, and all he could hear was the whirring of the pulley system, bringing the elevator up to his level.

“Why am I so nervous?” Max said to himself, looking at his reflection in the stainless steel doors. He was wearing his best suit, a sleek dark gray one that he picked out only a few weeks ago. He was even wearing his lucky green bow tie – he didn’t believe in luck in the slightest, but he thought that there was a high possibility that it would psychologically affect him, hopefully giving him more confidence. In fact, in one of the dozens of websites he was scrolling through last night, it said that wearing your favorite color could spike the area in your brain that activated…he was getting off topic.

He always did this. The more nervous he was, the more he immersed himself in numbers and statistics until it began to lose focus and forget where he was. In short, it wasn’t helping. He ran a hand through his short brown hair and adjusted his glasses once more, yet another one of his nervous habits. “You’re just talking to the woman.” He said firmly, looking at the elevator doors. “There’s a position open as the new sportscaster for the pro-fighting league, and although you manage the IT department, you are capable of doing the job. No,” Max corrected, looking back at his reflection and standing up straighter, “You deserve this job.”

Then he heard the familiar ding and watched as the elevator doors opened. He straightened his bow tie and stepped into the lift, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw that it was empty. People were variables that he just could not deal with right now.

“Hey can you hold it!” A voice called from the hallway, startling Max. He watched dumbly as the doors closed in front of him, but then a hand shot out to hold them open just in time. Max looked down at his shoes in embarrassment as the man entered the elevator. He had gotten lost in his owns thoughts again. Now he looked like a jerk.

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to –”

“No worries,” The voice said as the doors closed behind him. Max looked up and was met with a pair of gray eyes. “I got here just in time. I’m pretty fast.” The stranger said with a wink. Max felt something constrict inside his chest. He assumed they were his nerves, reminding him of what he had set out to do.

“It’s really no problem,” The unnamed man said. He looked like he was about Max’s age – early 20s. Max saw the concern in his eyes and realized how tense he must look.

“Sorry!” Max blurted out, fixing his glasses. “I’m just a little stressed today, that’s all.” He admitted, fighting the temptation to adjust this glasses again. He didn’t have OCD, he had been tested at a young age for that, but ever since he was little he always had certain habits that he would always go to in extremely emotionally taxing situations. Apparently .8% of French citizens suffered from some sort of…

“Why are you stressed?”

Max flicked his eyes back to the man looking at him, losing his train of thought. He saw the warmth and sincerity in the stranger’s gaze, and something about it made him a little more relaxed. “I’m asking one of the higher ups for a job change.”

“Well that shouldn’t be too bad.” The man said with a grin, leading against the elevator railing.

“It’s a big change.” Max said with a nervous laugh. Then the elevator doors opened and a woman shuffled in, her nose in her newspaper. She quietly took up the back left corner, not saying a word. Max tried not to be fazed, but he couldn’t help but think, another variable.

“What is this job change, if you don’t mind me asking?” The mysterious man with the gray eyes said, cocking his head to the side. He looked genuinely interested in what Max had to say.

“There’s a position open as a pro-fighting sportscaster.”

The man let out a short laugh.

“What?” Max questioned. He watched as the man combed a hand through his black hair. He noticed that a good portion of it was died a nice golden color. He’d never seen hair that looked quite like that, even though about 12% of people dye their hair before the age of 25, 5% of those people being…

“I didn’t peg you as a person who was interested in sports.” The man answered simply.

Max’s whole demeanor changed. He crossed his arms and stood up a bit straighter, although he was still about a foot shorter than the man in front of him. “I’ll have you know that I grew up watching every kind of sport imaginable. I memorized all the rules, all the statistics, the player’s names, the awards won, the records broken –” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “I may not look like I’m interested in sports, but trust me when I tell you I know my stuff.” He looked up at the man with a determined gaze, daring him to misjudge him once more.

Max faltered when he saw the unreadable expression on the man’s face. Something in the guy’s eyes flashed and he shifted off of the railing to stand to his full height.

“That almost sounded like a challenge.” The man said. He looked like he was holding back a grin.

“Maybe it is.” Max shot back, wondering if he was about to get beat up in an elevator. This man was taller and obviously stronger than him, but he was scrappy, he could take him on, right? He glanced at the woman, who was still immersed in her paper. He didn’t think that she would come to his aid if a fight broke out. His throat became very dry all of a sudden.

The man held out his hand, and Max instinctively flinched at the movement. Then he realized that the guy wanted to shake his hand and hastily reached it out, cheeks blazing in embarrassment.

“I’m Le Chien Kim, but you can call me Kim.” The man declared, grasping Max’s hand firmly in his own. Then he leaned over to Max’s eye level. “And I should have you know that I love a challenge.” He said with a 1000 watt smile. Max’s heart skipped a beat, probably due to the fact that his life had flashed before his eyes in the moment that this guy, Kim, had offered his hand. He hadn’t anticipated this, and he was pretty good with probability.

He wasn’t sure what to make of this guy. He was unpredictable, more so than most people. And although, logically, this should have made him more uncomfortable than he usually is around people, it gave him an odd feeling of excitement.

“Who won the French PFL tournament three years ago?”

Max was initially startled by the abrupt question, but then he adjusted his glasses and said easily, “Jean Moreau for the men’s league, Renée Leroy for the women’s.”

“And what was Leroy’s record by the time she won her second championship?” Kim asked, leaning over even further, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“7 loses, 162 wins, a new record for the women’s league, and the men’s for that matter.” Max said without a second thought.

Kim straightened back up, looking impressed. “And what do you think that this year will hold for the PFL?”

Max furrowed his brow in thought. “Well, all of the most well known fighters have retired in the past two years, so there is a void in experience.” Then Max looked back at Kim. “I believe that there is going to be a new talent to come out of the woodwork, someone that nobody expected. Somebody that will make pro-fighting fresh and better than ever.” He declared with confidence.

Kim smiled wide. Then he put his hand on Max’s shoulder. “I think I have some new talent in front of me right now.” Max stared back at him with wide eyes, and then he smiled shyly as well.

“What do you think, Madam Roux?” Kim asked, turning his attention to the woman in the corner.

‘Wait, why does that name sound familiar…’ Max thought to himself.

Suddenly the woman put down her newspaper, revealing a wide grin that rivaled Kim’s. “I think we found your new partner.”

Max laughed nervously, inching towards the elevator doors. He knew he was heading for one of the higher floors, but this had taken a while, and these overly energetic people were starting to freak him out. Then it clicked.

“Madam Roux!” Max exclaimed. This was the woman he was going to talk to! He wasn’t sure what she looked like, so he didn’t recognize her at first, but she fit the description he read online perfectly, along with the grainy picture on the company’s website.

“The legend herself.” Kim said with a wink.

“Wait, but, I was going to, I mean, I wanted to –” Max began, stumbling over his words. This was not how he planned it at all. Would it even make sense to go through his script now?

“You’ve got the job.” Madam Roux said, scribbling something down on her newspaper. Then she tore a piece off and handed it to Max. “Here’s my number. We expect you to be at Charles’ Arena at 7pm tomorrow. Don’t be late.” With that the elevator doors opened and she walked into the hallway, disappearing in a matter of seconds.

“What just happened?” Max asked himself, clutching his head in one hand and looking down at the piece of newspaper.

“You just became my new partner.” Kim answered, that grin still on his face. “Um, this is your floor, right?” He asked.

“Huh? Oh! Yes, this is where I was heading…” Max mumbled, stepping out of the elevator. “What did you two mean about a partner?”

Kim rested his arm on the front of the elevator, leaning casually towards Max. “I was working for Monsieur Faure before he retired. I got promoted to head sportscaster starting this upcoming season, but I requested a partner. Guess we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other.” He answered with a wink. Max gulped. Then he hastily adjusted his glasses and gripped the piece of newspaper more tightly in his hand.

“Thank you.” Max said, looking intensely at his new co-worker.

Kim dropped his arm from its place on the elevator, looking caught off guard for a moment. Then he broke into one of his blinding smiles. “Don’t thank me, you showed off all your skills. I’m just the one who pushed you a little.” Then he chucked to himself. “I have a feeling this is how this partnership is going to go. I’m looking forward to it.”

Max couldn’t help but smile a little as well. He could feel a sort of electricity in the air, which was odd, since there didn’t seem to be any exposed circuits and the atmosphere was supposed to be uncharacteristically dry today, at least according to his weather app…well, whatever this strange feeling was, he kind of liked it. It was different. Uncharted territory. “I’m looking forward to it too.”

Kim nodded his head and pressed one of the elevator buttons. Soon the doors began to close. “Wait,” He said a moment later, holding open the elevator. “I don’t know your name.”

Max pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and stood up straight. “Max Kanté.” He stated.

“Max Kanté.” Kim said to himself, a strange smile on his face. Then he looked back up at the young man before him. “Until next time, Max.” He let the doors close in front of him and soon Max was left alone in the hallway. He watched as the lights above the elevator flashed, and the pulley system whirred once more. Then he took a deep breath.

“Well that was…unexpected.” Max mused, still frozen in place. Who knew something so spontaneous, could turn out so perfectly? For once in his life, he didn’t have a fact or statistic to explain how he was feeling, what had just happened. He found himself struggling to find a word to describe just how gray Kim’s eyes were. Then he shook his head and headed down the hallway, willing his legs to move in a steady rhythm.

He looked down at that piece of newspaper for what might have been the hundredth time. Charles’ Arena. 7 pm tomorrow. “I did it.” Max said to himself, unable to hold back his grin. “I really did it!” He repeated, pumping his fist in the air as he tried and failed to reign in his excitement. He had entered the main section of the office at that point and noticed one of the secretaries giving him an odd look. He quickly sobered his expression and gave her a short greeting.

‘Wait.’ Max thought, suddenly realizing something. ‘I came here during my lunch break to talk to Madam Roux, but now that I’ve already gotten the job…’ He rubbed his neck sheepishly. He didn’t need to get off the elevator. Actually, there was no point for him to be on this floor at all. He turned around and walked back the way he came, trying to ignore the puzzled look on the secretary’s face as he left the main room that he had just entered.

‘Well what am I going to do now?’ Max wondered, back in the hallway with the elevators. He had twenty minutes until his break was over. Then he got an idea and pulled out his cell phone.

He scrolled down his contacts until he reached the name he was looking for, tapping his fingers against his thigh as he listened to his phone ring.

“Hiya poindexter.” The voice said on the other end of the line. Max rolled his eyes and smiled.

“I thought we went over this?” Max said, trying and failing to sound disapproving.

“Oh yeah we definitely did, I just chose not to listen.” The voice admitted.

Max chucked. “Alixxxxx.”

“Hey take me as I am or not at all.”

“Then I get to call you Lazytown.” Max declared, biting back his grin.

“Okay, I may have short pink hair, and I may be a little too obsessed with physical activity, but if you call me Lazytown I will not hesitate to kick your ass.”

Max shuddered at the threat. Alix may be shorter than him, but she trained the best pro-fighters in the French league. He wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Noted.” He said, his throat suddenly dry. Then he remembered why he called her in the first place. “So, do you have a minute to talk?”

“Yeah, my new protégé is taking a water break. You’ve gotta check this girl out sometime, Max, she’s going places.”

“Actually I think I’ll be seeing a lot of her in the future…” Max said vaguely, but Alix immediately understood.

“You got the job!” Alix exclaimed, excitement obvious in her voice. “How was it? What did you say? Don’t tell me you used all of those statistics you prepared because we talked about –”

Max laughed. “The plan was trashed before I really started it.” He admitted.

“Really? That’s not like you.” Alix said, puzzled.

“Oh I didn’t trash the plan.” Max said, leaning against the wall. “Le Chien Kim did.”

“Who?”

“Apparently he’s my new partner. And apparently he likes a challenge.”

“Oh I’m gonna have fun with this guy.” Alix said, and Max could picture the evil grin on her face.

He smiled to himself as he continued to talk to his best friend on the phone. He had a good feeling about all this – a strange, indescribable feeling – but a good feeling nevertheless.

For the rest of the day he couldn’t seem to get those gray eyes out of his head. Whenever he tried to recall one of his many facts and figures, all he could think of were those eyes. He couldn’t seem to understand why.

[aslightstep]

13 - ROTC/new-to-the-Air-Force Rhodey and/or CW/post-CW Rhodey

Flying like a cannonball, falling to the earth/Heavy as a feather when you hit the dirt

First

The first thing Jim remembers is flying.

If he was honest, that would be a lie. His first memory is something mundane like his mother singing to him or watching TV with his father. But what he remembers most, brightest, strongest is this: standing on the ledge of his family’s second-story apartment balcony, gazing down at the little section of the tiny backyard Mrs. Turner has used for her garden (bushes grown up high, hopefully high enough) taking a breath, closing his eyes and leaping.

He remembers flying. 

That glorious moment of weightlessness fighting gravity, when he was moving faster than light, faster than sound, the fastest thing on this planet. He was invincible.

He doesn’t remember hitting the ground, but he remembers rolling off his broken arm to stare up at the blue blue sky and thinking someday it would be his. Someday he’d never have to land.

(”He fell,” his little sister Jeanette insists with a pout when his mother comes home and panics at not finding Jim where he should be. He can hear them through the window. “He fell, Mama.”

His mama looks over the balcony and screeches, going back inside. Jeanette stares at Jim through the bars of the railing. “I didn’t fall,” he tries to say, but he’s six and the pain is finally catching up to him. He can’t feel his arm. He cries when his mother picks him up.)

In between fussing over him relentlessly, which he likes, and yelling at him for being so fool-headed he jumped off a balcony, which he doesn’t, his father says something that sticks with him for years.

“What if something had happened to Jeanette while you were stuck down there?” Terrence Rhodes says softly, his anger petering out, too tired to keep it up. Daddy is always tired. “You have to look after her, Jim. She depends on you while we’re away. Sometimes that means sacrificing your own wants.”

Jim feels his eyes go big, and Daddy notices and looks upset. “Ah, no, kiddo. Don’t listen to your old man. I know we’ve put a lot of responsibility on your shoulders and you’ve made us proud, you hear? It was a mistake, son, and you’ll learn from it, won’t you?”

Mama and Daddy work hard. Harder than Jim thinks anybody should, and he knows its to keep the roof over their heads and food on their table, and they would never say that, but Mrs. Turner downstairs would. That’s what she tells them when the Rhodes children have to stay over for the night, Mama too busy at the hospital and Daddy pulling overtime at the plant. “It’s all for you, baby dolls,” she says, wiping away Jeanette’s tears. “Because they love you.”

Sometimes that means sacrificing, Jim thinks. All they ask in return is that he look after Jeanette.

Meals are a little simpler after that, new clothes a little scarce, and Jim finds hospital bills on the table under Daddy’s sleeping cheek one night. Sacrifices, he thinks, and doesn’t go near the balcony again.

He studies hard, he works harder. He learns how to cook dinner and watches after his sister even after she complains she doesn’t need it anymore. He takes care of his family. It’s all for you, baby doll, he remembers, and kisses his tired mother on the cheek every night just to see her smile.

He builds model airplanes in his spare time and hangs them all around the room. For his eleventh birthday, the whole family makes a day of painting his ceiling like the sky. He hides his research on MIT under his bed so his parents don’t see. 

He packs his dreams carefully into little boxes and stows them away. All but one. 

He braves the balcony again. He keeps his head out of the clouds and his feet on the ground, but he keeps his eyes on the horizon. Someday, he dreams, it’ll be mine.

Here’s the thing: years from now presumptuous journalists will assume that he joined ROTC to get out of dead end future. That he seized an opportunity to rise above his ‘situation.’ 

That isn’t it at all. ROTC was always the goal, because Air Force was always the goal. He signs up for it in high school as soon as he could.

He is scrawnier than the other kids, having skipped a year, and the other kids think he’s stuck-up. Rhodes has always got his head in a book. Rhodes is too good to talk to us. Rhodes thinks he’s so smart.

(He is so smart. He’s gonna get smarter. Bring me the horizon, he writes on the edges of his notebook paper in classes that are far behind him.)

They playing at boot-camp, climbing up one of those wooden walls with a rope, trying to beat the other guy. Jim doesn’t, arriving up top later than Roy Williams, a junior, and Williams takes a sneering look at him before simply and easily pushing him off.

He flies for a brief moment, a child all over again, and he is smiling when his body hits the ground with a thud.

“Jesus, Rhodes,” someone says, touching his shoulder. “You ok?”

Jim just laughs. “Again!” he declares, and when he opens his eyes the boys are all staring at him.

Williams, up top, just shakes his head. “You’re crazy, Rhodes. But you’re alright.”

Later on his mother sighs as she rubs numbing cream on his bruises. “What am I gonna do with you, Jim?” His back is killing him, but he can’t keep the smile off his face.

He keeps the MIT acceptance letter tucked up tight under his bed with all his other little hopes and dreams. He quietly applies for scholarship after scholarship and resolutely thinks about other colleges that maybe aren’t as good, maybe not where he wants to be, but are good enough. Cheap enough.

He walks in one day to find his parents sitting at the table, an unopened letter from MIT between them. They never get home this early. That’s how they didn’t know. He didn’t want to get their hopes up.

Hopes, he has discovered, don’t fly. They fall. It’s all they can do. 

“I can explain,” he says, and his mother smiles and it breaks his heart.

But Dad laughs. “There’s no need, son. They called the house to personally congratulate you for the acceptance awhile back, on my day off. We’ve been on the phone with the Office of Admissions for weeks, trying to work out a payment plan for you. They’ve got some really nice scholarships there. We told them we’d talk to you about it but imagine our surprise when they tell us ‘no need, he’s already done it, we should know in about a month.’ Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I didn’t want to-” Jim swallows. “I can go to another school.”

“Honey,” his mother shakes her head, pushing the envelope to him. “Open it.”

He takes it. It shakes in his grip - because he’s shaking. “What if they turn me down?”

“You’ll never know until you try,” Mama says. “Take a leap of faith, Jim.” And well. He’s always been good at that.

He does. The envelope is thick, filled with many papers. He flips through them one after the other. Two scholarships, then three, then five. A full ride to MIT. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry so he does both, and his parents hug him tight. 

That night lying in his bed he takes all his hopes and dreams out and unpacks them. He looks them over, notices dents and dings and changes. He thinks for one night only about having it all. When the sun spills over the horizon he puts them all back and pins his acceptance letter onto the ceiling, up in the clouds. This one is enough.

Here’s the thing: other, nicer reporters like to say that James Rhodes and Tony Stark have been friends since the moment they met. Jim likes those reporters, likes the harmless fairy tales they try to spin. There are other, nastier ones that like to think they’re commiserating with Jim when they talk about the man being Tony’s ‘caretaker’ or ‘babysitter.’ On his darker days, Jim has actually done so. But those are few and far between, and usually involve Tony dying for stupid reasons.

The larger point is: nobody gets it right. For the first two month Jim knows Tony Stark, he hates him.

Stark is his lab partner in CHEM 316. He’s two years younger than him, smarter than him, richer than him, and he never shuts up.

Stark has this habit of fixing Jim’s measurements after he’s already done them. Stark is fond of double-checking Jim’s math. Never mind that he compliments Jim on nearly always being right, he always delivers these compliments like they’re a surprise to him, like its amazing that Jim is even halfway-intelligent.

Stark does his homework five minutes before class, the same homework Jim spent all last night doing and then double-checking, and still gets straight-As. The boy has come in drunk to more than one class. He has a fucking butler who visited once, dropping off some tools at the dorms, who Tony talks a mile a minute at and never once says thank you.

But the worst thing about him, the thing that Jim can’t stand, is that Stark is a dreamer. He scribbles on every spare sheet of paper he can, some of it even Jim’s, and Jim takes it home at night and marvels at the ideas there. He talks about artificial intelligence, he talks about the Arc Reactor Stark Industries built in California, he babbles incessantly about the next manned space voyage. 

He talks about it all as if its entirely possible. As if there’s no conceivable way he couldn’t make it happen. 

Tony Stark has never had a dream he’s had to lock away, and Jim can’t stand that.

He has one goal, one purpose that he works towards relentlessly, and even that sometimes seems out of reach. Stark has a million at any given moment, and holds them all in the palm of his hand.

Stark knows Jim doesn’t like him, but he just keeps chattering away every time they meet like they’re friends. As far as Jim knows, Stark doesn’t have any friends, and maybe that twinges something in his chest sometimes, but MITs the first time Jim hasn’t had to responsible for anybody but himself and he’s damn sure not picking up the habit for some mouthy rich-boy know it all.

“We should work on this,” Stark says as they watch their midterm project go up in flames - again. “This weekend?” He looks up at Jim hopefully, but he just shakes his head.

“I’ve got an English project due,” he says. An English project that is kicking his ass. Jim’s never been good at English, preferring hard sciences and math, and Professor Brubaker is a tyrant. A study on ten poems of a subject of your choice. Jim’s been putting it off and its due on Monday. “Some other time.”

But on Saturday night, his dorm phone rings and its Stark, sounding wasted and afraid. Jim grits his teeth and goes and picks him up. “You can take me back to my room,” Stark slurs, but Jim refuses to have the Stark heir’s death of asphyxiation hanging over his head and takes him to his room. Stark whimpers next to the toilet all night and Jim watches him to make sure he doesn’t die. The essay only barely gets done.

“I don’t even have a topic,” he snaps in Stark’s general direction. He hates this, hates being a caretaker again with a strength that frightens him. The mantle he wore so well in his childhood feels like a noose now. “I was supposed to work on that tonight, but of course Tony Stark has to go to the frathouses by himself to get drunk. Now I have to-” Stark throws up.

Reluctantly Jim rubs his back, trying to keep his anger when he feels the skin trembling under his hand.

In the morning Stark emerges looking only halfway dead, and Jim hands him a glass of water before picking up his backpack. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Stark says, and Jim nods jerkily.

“Don’t call me again.”

Stark finds him the library, five books stacked precariously in his hands. “Hi,” he says cautiously. Jim keeps his head down, trying to scratch out some semblance of an outline.

“I’m sorry,” Stark says. “I shouldn’t have called but I - well. You’re the only person I thought might pick up.”

Jim feels his shoulders tense up at the lonely, resigned tone of that voice. Jesus, what is Stark, fifteen? Besides, it is his fault for putting the essay off so long. “It’s alright,” he says gruffly.

“It’s not,” Stark replies. “And I owe you. You said you didn’t have a topic, so I brought you these.” He puts the books down, turns to bookmarked pages. Ten poems, all about flight. “That essay is pretty hard, huh? I didn’t know what to write about either, but Mom said to pick something that interested me.”

“You’re in Brubaker’s class?” Jim frowns, glancing over the first poem. The way the poet describes the bird flying stirs something familiar in him. “I’ve never seen you.”

Stark grins, a little strained. “I sit in the back; I don’t talk much. What is there to say? I wouldn’t even be in there except English is my mom’s major and I wanted to be able to talk to her about stuff she likes. She helped me pick these out, too. She said to thank you for giving me a reason to call home, by the way. Moms, you know?”

Jim feels his brow crinkle at that, then he looks down at the poems again. “…how did you know?” he asks quietly.

“The times when I talked about rockets and planes were the only times you actually looked like you were listening,” Stark says with a practiced shrug. “And then we read that Icarus poem in class. I think that’s the only time I’ve actually seen you pay attention. I picked that one, too.”

Its in him to bristle at that, but Jim is too busy looking through the poems. There’s a lot he could do with this. He picks up his pen, itching to get started, and Stark turns away. “Hey,” he says. “You already done yours?”

“Yeah.”

“What was it about?”

“Creation myths,” Stark says, looking embarrassed.

Jim points at his paper. “You want to help? I’ve got exactly 28 hours to write 5000 words.”

Stark’s smile looks just like the sun coming over the edge of the earth. “No stress, then?”

(”I don’t dream,” Tony scoffs one time when they’re both a little tipsy. “I think, and then I make it happen.”

Here is a list of dreams that Tony keeps locked away: that his father will love him. That his parents will be proud. That he hasn’t inherited an predisposition for addiction. That he will fall in love. 

Most of those wither and die. There is one though, that he keeps deep, and Rhodey never manages to get him to look at ever again: that he will be loved in return.)

They graduate with honors, Tony with three degrees and Rhodey with his one aerospace engineering. (”You don’t just want to fly,” Tony accused him with a laugh. “You want to own the sky!”) His parents hug Tony after the ceremony and Jim laughs at his face just so he won’t feel sad about it. (”Oh my God, Rhodey, I’m not deprived, just a WASP. We don’t hug.”)

He enters the Air Force. He goes through training, and finds himself growing a bit terrified. Not of what happens once he finally gets in the air, but what happens when he touches down. When he lands, back on the Earth again, dream realized. What does he do, then?

He flies.

It is the most glorious thing to ever happen to him. The clouds hanging shelter over his head, close enough to touch, the horizon always there to guide him, the earth far below. He can see everything. He can do anything.

I am invincible.

When he lands, the feeling stays, and he isn’t afraid. This dream never dies. He goes up again, and again, until he’s the best flier in his squadron, on the base, on the ship, in the entire Air Force. He soars through skies and ranks. He never wants it to end.

(”But what if you fall?” Tony frets over the phone. 

“I won’t.”

“But how can you be sure?” Tony presses. “You know what? Easy way to solve this. I’ll build some planes to go with that new weapon shipment. Then we’ll be sure.”

Jim rolls his eyes. “Okay, Tones.” 

But really, the Stark jet line is fantastic.)

Being away from Tony and his family is hard, but not as hard as the moments he finds himself in when he’s with them, moments when he is uncomfortably aware of the solidity of the ground beneath him, and how far away the sky is. He becomes hyperaware of his body, how his lungs wouldn’t handle the thin air, how his body wouldn’t handle the pressure, how he isn’t Icarus with his wax wings soaring through the sky, and anyway Icarus fell to his death. 

To be honest, he is incredibly jealous of the Iron Man suit.

It feels dishonest to do so, when its power comes from Tony’s three month sojourn into malnutrition, torture, and three decades of guilt landing all at once, but watching Iron Man soar alongside his jet and hearing how happy Tony is - well, he doesn’t always smile back.

He wonders, as he flies his new suit away from Iron Man’s fallen form, as the sheer joy of flinging himself through the air overwhelms the worry that has been a hum at the back of his mind since Obadiah died, what kind of man he is.

Because the entire world congratulates him on taking the suit like Tony couldn’t lock him out at any moment, using it responsibly as a force for good like Iron Man hasn’t been flying around the world putting out fires for two years, and that is part of the reason why he took Iron Patriot - because he wanted to help.

But in his selfish thoughts, he doesn’t care about the world, a billion nameless faces. He just wants to protect Tony, even if its from himself.

And even deeper, even darker: he just wants to fly.

But when he and Tony forgive each other, fight together, fly together, he figures out the man he is. It’s like Tony always says, and nobody else has understood. He is the suit, and the suit is him. He is these missiles and this armor and the minigun perched on his shoulders. He is the people he saves and the bad guys he takes out and the collateral damage he regrets. 

He is War Machine, and he is flight. The sky is his, and sometimes he even shares it with Tony.

(”Is it everything you dreamed of?” Tony asks as they coast lazily over the water. Rhodey turns his faceplate towards Iron Man’s, imagining the shit-eating grin on Tony’s face.

“Yes,” he says, and maybe that surprises Tony or, more likely, it doesn’t, and they fly towards the edge of the earth nearly hand-in-gauntleted-hand.)

Tony flies into a wormhole and saves the world. Tony falls back out. 

Rhodey sees it on the back of his eyelids every time he closes them: the suit, falling end over end. No control. No flight. Just the fall.

Thank God he didn’t land, Rhodey thinks. The noise. The thud. His arm pulses out an old ache. Rhodey opens his eyes and doesn’t think about it anymore.

unsignificantlyoff the coastthere was

a splash quite unnoticedthis wasIcarus drowning

What was it he wrote in his paper about that poem? He’d thought it be neat to juxtapose all those flight poems with a crash. Brubaker had liked it too. It had made Tony sad, though, he remembered. Something about how-

He flips again, feet pointing up. He doesn’t throw up in his helmet, even though all the systems are knocked out and nothing’s keeping pressure on his body. 

-it made Icarus’ fall seem so normal, so commonplace. Like a bright young boy hadn’t just died. Tony said “It’s a tragedy!” and Jim had replied-

He has to close his eyes, he has to stop calling for Tony, for anyone. He has to stay calm. 

-”I think that’s the point.”

The last thing Jim remembers is falling.

Tony isn’t there when he gets out of the hospital, too busy in surgery of his own. Rhodey wants to stay, but Pepper insists he gets rest, and he can’t exactly stop her from wheeling him away.

He can’t walk. No head in the clouds, no ground on the feet anymore. Just hanging, in between. Like a ghost between realms. He wishes he could feel his legs. He wishes he could feel anything.

And then the hospital ships them the mangled Mark III and Rhodey doesn’t wish at all.

Tony doesn’t dream anymore. He has nightmares.

Rhodey takes care of him, like he always has, but here’s the thing those reporters have never understood, alongside everything else: Tony takes care of him, too.

The braces are iffy at best for the first few editions. They get better and better. 

Rogers sends a letter that Tony reads once and a phone that is shoved into a drawer and they make a home out of that cold, abandoned compound.

Tony and Jim get better, too. 

“138 combat missions,” he tells Tony. He doesn’t regret it, he finds. Misses it, but can’t bring himself to feel sorry for himself any longer. He’d do it again, every bit of it. “It was the right thing to do.”

Mark IV is born alongside Tony’s new black and gold armor. They strap themselves in and don’t think about how this part used to be the most exciting as they launch up into the air.

“Higher?” Tony asks, and they both cautiously rise a few dozen feet. The ground is so far away, Rhodey notes. The HUD gives off a warning about his heart rate.

“Higher,” he grits, and hesitantly Tony follows him up.

They rise. Tony’s new triggers are not the same as his, and he is content to watch and wait at every level for Jim’s heart beat to slow down again.

“Higher,” Rhodey whispers, and they climb.

The horizon appears, ever there to guide him forward, and for the first time on this little trip Rhodey doesn’t feel like he’s still falling. His body stops waiting for impact. He watches the sun set inch by inch, Tony by his side.

Night falls, and the delineating line disappears. “I don’t know,” Rhodey breathes. “If I can go back down.”

“I’m always here,” Iron Man says softly. There’s a whir, and Rhodey knows that there’s a gauntlet extended towards him. He thinks at the suit to move, and feels it respond, turning towards Tony, hovering so close, always ready to catch him now.

I know you were coming for me, he doesn’t say. I know you tried as hard as you could. But Tony will never be ready to hear that.

He takes the offered hand, and War Machine is grappled onto Iron Man’s back as Tony takes them in a slow, circling descent. Rhodey watches to sky get further and further away. 

They land impossibly gently. “You okay?” Tony asks, and Rhodey nods. It’s not even a lie.

He knows now, what it is to land, to crash. He knows how to treasure the ground under his feet. He’s different, but the dream is the same. He’ll fly. He’ll crash. He’ll fly again.

He is invincible.

[smut-camren]

Learning Her Lesson (Chapter 2)

Story Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8216737/2/Learning-Her-Lesson

Summary: Lauren and Lucy are cops pulling Camila over for speeding and driving under the influence. Camila will do anything to get away with it.

Camila shut the front door behind her and leaned against it, breathless. She tried to absorb the fact that she had just had the most amazing, mind-blowing, earth-shattering sex just because she was trying to get out of a DUI. She was aching in the best possible way, but mostly she was aching for more… She swiftly (and with some difficulty) pulled herself together – 20 minutes! She had 20 minutes. O.K. Shower first. Shower then pick something to wear…

Lucy and Lauren drove most of the way back to the station in silence, still in a state of (happy) shock at what had just happened. Neither looked at the other when Lauren started talking:

"Alright, we wrap it up as quick as we can and we head back to hers. Right?"

"Fuck yeah. Jesus, Laur – this girl is fucking amazing! God I bet she'd let us do just about anything to her…"

Lucy trailed off as her mind wandered into fantasy-land. Lauren glanced over at her partner and sniggered:

"Careful there Luce, you're practically drooling…and you're gonna wanna save that" (Lauren threw a pointed glance at the growing bulge of Lucy's crotch) "for later. You're gonna need it. Or rather, horny little miss Cabello is gonna need it!"

Lauren chortled to herself, very pleased with her little joke, while Lucy simply rolled her eyes.

They pulled up into the station's parking lot, both planning to file their paperwork and clock off at the speed of light. Just as they were getting out of the squad car Lauren was struck by a thought:

"Hey Luce, let's tell the captain that we need to bring our uniforms home and get them dry-cleaned – I'm pretty sure that knowing she was getting fucked by cops really got that kinky little bitch going. So we'll keep them on for her! Besides, it's not really a lie in your case, is it? You are going to have to get your uniform cleaned!"

Lucy looked down at the large dark stain Camila's cum had left on her trouser-leg when she was humping her and grinned in agreement. They both walked into the station as fast as they could without letting everybody know they were in a rush and started tying up the loose ends at the end of their shift.

Camila meanwhile was panicking a little. She'd showered, and everything that needed to be was waxed, moisturized or exfoliated. Now she stood frozen in front of the drawer and section of the hanger rail where she kept her sexy lingerie. Yes, she had a whole drawer and substantial hanging space just for lingerie. 'Ok running out of time Camila! Just pick something quick!'

"Finally!" Lauren had definitely broken a few of the laws they were meant to be enforcing in her mad rush to drive them to Camila’s. Lucy nodded feverishly until she realized they were acting like a couple of giddy schoolgirls…

"Umm Laur – maybe we should chill a little…we're not the ones who're meant to be desperate and begging…"

"Shit good point, Luce. Ok – cool and collected. Let's go!"

Camila jumped as she heard three loud knocks at her door – she was slightly embarrassed that the mere knowledge that the cops were at her door was enough to make her soak her thong. 'Oh well', she thought 'I'm way past embarrassment now!' One last glance in the mirror and she rushed downstairs.

Lauren and Lucy had a hard time keeping their 'cool and collected' demeanors as they entered the house and saw what Camila was wearing (barely).

Camila, in the end, had settled for simplicity. A completely sheer black robe that hid absolutely nothing – Camila's hard brown nipples were fully on display, as well as acres of tan skin and a sheer black lace thong that did nothing to hide her wet, shaved pussy. And Camila herself felt a rush of heat sweep over her body as she saw that the officers still had their uniforms on.

Lauren recovered first although it was a bit hard to appear unaffected when she and Lucy both had massive erections between their legs.

"Well, well, well. You clean up nice…for a slut. But you didn't have to bother, you know." Lauren was smirking when she saw Camila's face drop. Did they not like it? Camila was surprised at how upset the idea made her – she felt like she was on the verge of tears. Lauren leaned in close, her lips brushing Camila's ear as she whispered:

"Because the only thing you'll be wearing by the time we're done with you is our cum…all over that sexy body of yours."

Just as Camila was practically creaming herself at the idea of being covered in the officers' cum, Lauren finished off by driving her tongue into Camila's ear. Camila couldn't restrain the loud and obscene moan that fell from her lips. God, she wanted them to fill her up, she needed to taste them, take them all the way down her throat…

"Please! Oh God please!" Camila knew she was going to collapse any second if Lauren kept working that magic tongue in her ear.

Thankfully Lucy stepped up and grabbed her ass, pressing her hard-on against Camila's pussy once more. She seized Camila's mouth with her own and thrust her tongue in roughly.

Camila didn't think she could take much more: Lauren's tongue winding deeper into her ear while Lucy was fucking her mouth with her tongue – her knees finally gave way, and despite Lucy's hands on her ass, groping and squeezing, she sank to her knees on the floor.

This brought her face-to-face with the big, hard bulge in Lucy's pants. Exactly where she wanted to be.

Lucy started unbuckling her belt while Lauren threaded her hand in Camila's hair, tugging a little as she growled:

"I hope you're comfortable you fucking slut, because you're going to be spending a lot of time on your knees tonight - just like the dirty little whore we all know you are."

Camila moaned; her eyes fixed on the thick, hard cock that Lucy had pulled out of her boxers. She could feel herself literally drooling as she saw Lucy’s pre-cum leaking out of her dick. God it looked even bigger close-up – she was so close she could smell Lucy's arousal, she could almost taste her…

Camila leaned in closer, stretching her tongue out to get a taste but whined in disappointment when Lauren tugged on her hair and her head jerked back just as she was about to lick the head of Lucy's throbbing dick.

"Uh-uh, I don't think so. You want to suck cock like a slut? You want Officer Vives to fuck your face?"

Camila nodded as best as she was able considering Lauren's grip on her hair, her eyes wide and pleading.

"Well then. What do good sluts do when they want to be fucked?" Lucy chimed in, struggling not to just thrust forward and start fucking Camila's open mouth.

"Please…" Camila's voice could only be described as a desperate whine.

"Very good, Camila! When sluts want cock they beg for it!" Lucy praised Camila patronizingly as she slowly pumped her painfully hard cock.

"Oh god please officer, I wanna suck you so bad, I need to show you how sorry I am for being such a bad girl! Pleeeaaase I need your big cock filling my mouth! Let me be a good slut for you!"

Camila was still babbling desperately when Lucy thrust her cock into her mouth. Camila's long, grateful moan of satisfaction was muffled by the thick meat in her mouth. She immediately started sucking hard, bobbing her head up and down. Lauren let go of her hair, only for Lucy to grab hold of her head with both hands and start fucking her mouth with abandon.

"Yeah that's right, suck my dick like the cockslut you are! Fuck you're such a dirty whore OH GOD! Fuuuuuuuuuck!"

Camila had just deep-throated Lucy's throbbing dick, prompting cries of ecstasy from the brunette officer. She was very glad for her lack of a gag reflex as she struggled a little not to choke on the nine and a half inches of thick cock being rammed down her throat over and over. Camila was so aroused she could feel her cum dribbling down her thighs as she thrust her hips forward into empty air, desperate as a cat in heat.

The feel of Lucy's cock rubbing against the insides of her mouth and stretching her throat was making her pussy clench and her clit pulse with each thrust of Lucy's hips. She felt completely helpless as Lucy held her head in a vice grip and fucked her mouth and throat so hard that her balls were smacking against Camila's chin every time her cock bottomed out down her throat.

"Jesus fuck yeaaaahh UUUUGH so good, you're such a dirty cock-sucking whore, you like it, don't you? FUUUUUUUCKK!"

Lucy's head was thrown back in ecstasy, her legs were weakening from the sheer pleasure but she didn't give a fuck, she just needed to keep feeling Camila's hot, wet throat massaging her dick.

Lauren was watching this scene with her mouth hanging open and a rock-hard boner between her legs. She groaned as she saw a mixture of drool and pre-cum dripping down from Camila's chin onto her tits. Lucy was grunting and groaning while obscene slurping noises came from Camila, as well as the occasional slight gagging sound every time Lucy thrust in particularly hard. It only made Lauren even harder.

"You choking on Lucy's big dick, whore? Nah I don't think so. The bigger the better for a slut like you, hmm? This is how you like it! God, you're so fucking filthy!"

Camila let out a muffled moan – she didn't think she could get even more aroused but Lauren's words were creating a flood between her legs.

"Uuuuuh so goooood….so hot…wet..OOOH get ready for it whore!"

Lucy pushed Camila's head down all the way: her plump, swollen lips smushed up against Lucy's abdomen. Suddenly Camila was swallowing frantically as Lucy unleashed streams of cum down her throat, whimpering a little in disappointment at not being able to taste Lucy's hot juices. Although the feeling of Lucy's thick cum gushing down her throat all the way down into her stomach, filling her up, was enough to make her feel she might cum on the spot.

Lucy grunted and moaned as she dumped the last of her load down Camila's wet, convulsing throat – she'd cum so much she was feeling a little light-headed. She pulled out of the petite brunette's mouth, admiring her red and swollen lips, and staggered over to a nearby armchair and collapsed on it.

Camila, meanwhile, was catching her breath whilst eyeing Lauren's crotch hungrily. She could only imagine what she looked like right now: pre-cum and drool all over her mouth and chin, slowly dripping down onto her chest, her hair completely wild from Lucy's forceful grip and her plump, red lips swollen from sucking cock so hard. No one had ever been able to make her feel like such a slut before and she fucking loved it. Her breath caught in her throat as Lauren stepped up in front of her and pulled out her big hard cock.

"Well, Cabello? If you want it, you know what to do." Lauren smirked down at the panting, desperate girl.

"Pleeeaase fuck my throat, oh god I need your cock so much please I'll suck you so good! I'll be a good little whore, I promise!"

Lauren chuckled – this power trip was really turning her on.

"Open wide, you filthy bitch."

Camila immediately open her mouth as wide as she could, her tongue hanging out, panting like a dog – she knew it would be a struggle to take all of Lauren but that only turned her on even more. The thought of the officer forcing her huge cock down her throat had her moaning out loud and dripping down her thighs in anticipation.

Even though it was torture for her to hold back, Lauren slowly slid her dick into Camila's open mouth until she hit the back of her throat and paused. Camila immediately started sucking sloppily, her hands grasping and groping Lauren's ass. She was sure she'd never tasted anything so good in her life, and she took a deep breath through her nose in preparation for what she was about to do.

Lauren watched in amazement as Camila took her in, inch by inch, until her lips were pressed against the tan skin of her abdomen. No girl had ever been able to take all of her, or Lucy for that matter, but her girth especially usually meant instant choking.

Instead of choking, Camila started moaning, the vibrations pulsing through Lauren's dick. Her throat and mouth were stretched to the limit and she knew she was dripping onto her carpet.

Lauren growled at the sensation, her eyes still wide with shock, and starting thrusting back and forth down Camila's throat. Camila was sucking her as best she could, bobbing her head to meet Lauren's increasingly frantic thrusts.

"Shiiiiiit so fucking good! Fuck you must be a really desperate whore to swallow all my big dick! Uuuuuh yessss UUNGH such a dirty slut! That's right, suck it good OOOH! OH GOD!"

Camila had started swallowing around her over and over – Lauren let out a long moan and grabbed Camila's head to start really fucking her throat. Camila's eyes rolled back in her head – this was what she'd been craving: on her knees, helpless, while her mouth and throat were used….hard. She could feel how heavy and swollen Lauren's balls were every time they crashed against her chin.

"Ooooooh fuckfuckfuckfuck UUUUGGHHH!"

Lauren couldn't hold on any longer, and only just had the presence of mind to pull back so just the head of her cock was left clasped between Camila's swollen lips. She unleashed a torrent of hot cum into Camila's hungry mouth. She'd never cum so much in her life, and glancing down to see Camila's throat working furiously to swallow her load only forced even more cum out of her.

Despite her best efforts, Camila was overwhelmed by how much cum Lauren was filling her mouth with. No matter how fast she swallowed, there was so much that her cheeks were bulging and some of Lauren's juices started dribbling out the corners of her lips. There was just so much, and it tasted so good – the only sounds were Lauren's groans and swears, Camila's loud, frantic gulping and the sound of Lucy's heavy panting.

Lucy was slowly stroking her hard length only to ease the painful throbbing that had started as soon as Camila had managed to deep-throat Lauren's huge cock. Her mouth hung open as she watched Lauren pull all the way out and dump the last of her load all over Camila's face.

Camila tried to moan when she felt Lauren's hot cum spurting onto her face, but all she could manage was a gargling sound due to all the cum she still had to swallow. Her pussy clenched and her clit throbbed with every rope of hot cum that landed on her face and in her hair – she was completely desperate now; she felt like she might just die if she didn't get to cum soon.

As Lauren panted while she tried to recover, she was astounded to find that one glance down at Camila (who was making no effort to wipe any of her cum off) was enough to get her hard again. She'd always had great stamina but this was something else…

Camila moaned in a mixture of shock and arousal as she saw Lauren's cock harden again – anyone else would have been sucked dry after cumming that much but as she watched she saw the officer's balls swell up with another load – all for her!

She was so fixated with the big, juicy cock in front of her that she only noticed that Lucy had stepped up next to Lauren when the brunette's dick entered her line of vision. She whimpered as she stared at the two big, thick cocks right in front of her. She looked up to see the two cops leering down at her with matching smirks on their faces.

"On your feet – get that slutty robe and thong off. You've got a whole lot more punishment coming to you tonight," Lauren growled at a desperate, eager Camila who scrambled to obey, dropping her robe and completely ruined thong on the floor. She stepped forward hesitantly, reaching for the officers' pulsing erections. Before she knew it, Lauren had roughly grabbed her hair once more, sending another wave of arousal rushing through her body as she tugged her head back.

"You really don't learn, do you slut? No wonder you have to be punished so hard over and over. Like I said, you're being punished, which means Officer Vives and I are in charge. We decide when you get to be fucked. We decide which of your slutty holes gets pounded. Do you understand that now, whore?"

Lauren grinned when she saw that her words were causing Camila's legs to tremble and even more arousal to slide down her thighs.

"Yes, yes officer, I'm so sorry, I'll be a good little slut for you! Pleeeaase punish me with your big cocks, I'm a dirty whore and I need to be taught a lesson! Oh god please I'll do anything, I need to be fucked so bad pleeeaase…"

Camila didn't think she could take much more, her pleading gaze flickering between Lucy and Lauren's flushed faces. She could tell they wanted to fuck her as much as she wanted to be fucked and she hoped this meant they wouldn't tease her for much longer. She was so lost in her overwhelming arousal that she yelped in shock when she felt Lucy's fingers pushing at her soaked pussy. Her yelp quickly changed into a loud moan as the brunette rubbed her fingers through the folds of her dripping cunt, carefully avoiding her throbbing clit. Camila started rolling her hips, trying to ride Lucy's fingers but the officer just pulled her hand away. At this point, Camila could have cried from sexual frustration. Her tortured whimpers only served to encourage Lucy and Lauren to see how far they could push her before she lost it completely. Lucy held her hand in front of Camila's face as Lauren pulled on her hair again, forcing her to look at the brunette's cum-covered fingers.

"You see that, slut? You see how wet you are, just from sucking cock? It's because you're a desperate whore, isn't it? Because you're just a dirty little bitch in heat?" Lucy snarled at her while smearing Camila’s arousal on her face where it mixed with Lauren's cum. Camila knew she was only seconds away from her knees giving out under her.

"OH FUCK!"

Camila shrieked loudly as Lauren delivered a stinging smack to her ass.

"You still haven't learnt that a good slut answers when she's asked a question? Unbelievable – maybe you don't deserve to get fucked after all," Lauren's smirk grew even wider when she saw the look of panic that washed over Camila's face at her words.

"No no, please, I'm sorry, you're right – I'm just a desperate whore, a dirty bitch in heat! I need your cocks so bad, pleeeaase!"

Camila panted out her pleas as she wobbled precariously on legs that felt like they were made of jelly. She whimpered when Lucy stepped closer, the tip of her cock brushing against the tan skin of her stomach, leaving a trail of hot pre-cum.

"That's right," Lucy said with a predatory smile on her face, "and if you act like a dirty bitch, you deserve to get fucked like one. On your hands and knees like a dog, slut."

"OOOoohh god yessss!"

Camila moaned joyfully – finally! She dropped into position instantly; thankful she didn't have to stand anymore. She could hear the officers moving around but she kept her eyes on the floor while she waited for instructions, shivering when she saw her own cum-stains on the carpet.

"Look up, bitch!" Lauren spat out at her from behind. Camila's head snapped up immediately and she found herself once more face-to-face with Lucy's raging erection. She shuddered as her pussy spasmed at the sight – it seemed even bigger and harder than before (if that were even possible). She shuddered again and gasped as she felt the tip of Lauren's dick brush against her dripping pussy from behind. A huge wave of arousal threatened to make her pass out at the thought of taking both Lauren and Lucy at once. Her mouth hung open and her hips were thrusting back towards Lauren's dick – her insatiable libido had taken complete control over her body.

"Alright whore, let's hear you scream!" With that, Lauren grabbed Camila's hips in a vice-grip and rammed her entire length into her wet pussy in one powerful thrust. Camila's ear-splitting shriek of pleasure mingled with Lauren's shocked exclamation:

"FUUUCK how are you so tight again already?! Uuuh shit you're such a fucking slut – you like my big cock splitting your tight cunt wide open, don't you? Ooooh god uuungh…"

Camila's head swam and her vision blurred as Lauren started up a brutal, unforgiving pace, the pounding thrusts jolting her forward and making her face rub against Lucy's dick. Just like when Lauren had fucked her bent over the hood of her own car, she felt like all her other senses had shut down; and all she could feel was the exquisite pleasure pulsing from her pussy. The tingling sensation in her stomach had spread all over her body and she started to fell light-headed – she couldn't draw a proper breath past all the screaming she was doing. Her body was wracked with lightning-like spasms of ecstasy each time Lauren's cock bumped up against her cervix and Lauren was right: she loved the delicious ache of being stretched so wide, being fucked so hard – it only added to the indescribable pleasure engulfing her, threatening to overwhelm her completely. Lauren suddenly shifted her angle a little and pounded a spot deep inside her that had never been hit before and Camila regained the power of speech (somewhat…).

"UUUUUUUHHHHHH! Oh god your cock – AAAAAGH! So big! Oh-oh-oh-oh-OH GOD! Holy fucking shit I – AAAAAAAAH! UH-UH-UH-UUUNNGGHHH!" Camilahad started cumming already, her body writhing and jerking in time with the convulsions of her pussy. Lauren didn't stop her hard pounding despite the tight clenching of Camila's cunt – in fact, when she looked down and saw her cock gleaming and glistening with Camila's arousal each time she pulled out; she actually managed to up her pace even more.

Camila was making sounds that Lucy didn't even know were humanly possible – ear-splitting shrieks of anguished ecstasy, screams of incredible pleasure…Along with the temptation of the brunette's wide open mouth, it was too much for her – she grabbed the back of Camila's head pushed her entire length down Camila's throat in one go, letting out her own animalistic groans along the way. Feeling Camila's screams vibrating through her hard meat only intensified the ecstasy.

Camila hadn't even started to come down from her mind-blowing orgasm when Lucy thrust her dick roughly into her open mouth and down her throat, and the sensation was enough to throw her violently into another huge orgasm. Being fucked at either end, having both the officers' cocks inside her at once, on her hands and knees like an animal…. It was her idea of heaven. She'd given up trying to contribute by thrusting back against Lauren or sucking Lucy and was just letting the officers use her as they wanted. She felt like she was just their dirty little fucktoy - she'd been reduced to an animalistic level, existing only to feel those big thick cocks fuck her hard. Unbelievably, she felt the beginnings of another orgasm start to rise within her as Lucy and Lauren kept pounding her holes; their powerful thrusts jerking her back and forth like a rag doll. She started tightening once more around the cock pounding her pussy like a jackhammer and she would have been shrieking like a banshee but her howls were muffled by a big mouthful of hard, thick dick.

Neither Lucy nor Lauren could really hear her screams of ecstasy, but the brunette could certainly feel it. She felt her cock swell up even more and her balls tighten as the vibrations pulsed convulsively up and down her shaft and she knew she was going to cum, and cum hard at that. She threw back her head, a look of exquisite pleasure washing over her face and started pumping quickly and erratically into the brunette's mouth.

"AAAAAAAAAGGHH! Oh FUUUUCK YESSS! UUUUHH swallow – AHH! – swallow it bitch! UUUNNNGGHH!"

Lucy somehow manage to pull back a little despite the throes of ecstasy and dump most of her load in Camila's mouth instead of spurting down her throat again. She wanted to see her struggle to swallow it all just as she had earlier with Lauren and she was not disappointed. She watched through slitted eyes as Camila swallowed frantically, making the most obscene gulping noises as she desperately tried to suck down all of Lucy's thick cum. The added distraction of having her cunt pounded from behind at the same time didn't help and Camila clenched hard on Lauren's cock when she felt some of Lucy's juices ooze out of her stretched mouth to cover her chin and drip down onto her tits once more.

When Lucy finally stopped cumming she pulled out and sank to the floor, panting and trembling as she tried to regain control of her own body. This meant she was face-to-face with Camila, and she leaned back against a conveniently placed couch to enjoy the show.

Lauren was now pounding Camila like a battering ram, only a couple thrusts away from cumming herself. And then it happened.

"FUUUUCK HERE IT COMES YOU WHORE! AAAAAAAAH! OOOOOH take it! Take it all in your slutty pussy! UUUUUUNNNGH oh god! SO. FUCKING. TIGHT!"

Lauren punctuated each exclamation with three last rough thrusts before Camila's pussy milked her dry. Her cries had mixed with Camila's own as the smaller girl let loose with an unintelligible stream of shrieks, moans and curses – the feel of Lauren's hot cum filling up her hungry pussy was threatening to make her pass out again as another massive orgasm wracked her body, making her spasm and convulse as if she were being electrocuted. But instead of electricity pulsing through her, it was white-hot pleasure making her writhe and scream like a woman possessed. She was bucking and shuddering so hard that Lauren was having to use almost all her strength to hold Camila's hips steady enough to keep fucking her.

As she finally came down and Lauren pulled out, she collapsed onto the floor, lying face down on her stomach completely spent, unmoving except for a few twitches as the aftershocks jolted through her.

For a while the only sound in the room was heavy panting as all three women slowly recovered from the mind-blowing intensity of their orgasms. Lucy was the first to stir, shifting uncomfortably as she realized how hot and sticky with sweat she was. She was slightly surprised to see that she hadn't even taken her shoes off, and started to slowly undress in order to cool down a little. Both Lauren and Camila glanced up as they heard her pulling off her clothes – Camila's breathing picked right back up again and she moaned quietly when Lucy's rock-hard abs were revealed. Lauren decided that Lucy had the right idea (she had also worked up a sweat) and started undressing too.

By the time Lucy and Lauren had stripped, they were both hard again; Lauren from staring at the now familiar sight of her cum oozing out of Camila's pussy and Lucy because of the hungry, unwavering stare Camila was directing at her cock. As the two of them watched, Camila began to roll her hips, whimpering as she rubbed her clit against the carpet.

"Well it looks like you're ready for another round, slut. Is that right? You want to be fucked hard again? Of course you do, you're such a fucking whore! Look at yourself, rubbing against the carpet because you're so desperate for cock! You really are just a dirty bitch in heat!"

Camila let out a choked gasp and sped up the motion of her hips when she heard what Lauren was snarling at her. She felt a familiar clenching in her pussy and asshole at the officer's demeaning words and she moaned softly when more of the dark-haired cop's cum dribbled out of her, coating her inner thighs along with her own juices. She was about to start begging again when she glanced up and realized that the two officers were having another silent conversation – as she watched they switched positions. Lauren moved in front of her and Lucy stood and walked behind her. She then felt Lucy's hands under her arms as she was hoisted up. She was glad when Lucy kept hold of her as she knew she wouldn't be able to stand on her own. All she could do was press herself back against the brunette and grind her ass against the hard dick nestled between her cheeks.

She licked her lips as Lauren lowered herself to the ground and lay there; and a familiar and powerful throbbing started up between her legs as she gazed longingly at the tan, toned body and full breasts right below her. Not to mention that huge, incredible cock…

"You know what to do, you dirty fucking slut. Ride my dick, bitch!"

Camila keened in anticipation as Lucy lowered her to her knees and she shuffled forward until the thick head of Lauren's cock was pressing up into her pussy. She slowly lowered herself, taking in the huge cock inch by inch, moaning continuously as she felt herself being stretched wider and wider. She let out a loud strangled cry as she was finally filled completely – the Latina was so deep she was convinced she could feel her in her stomach. Looking down as she tried to catch her breath, she saw her stomach was a little swollen, undoubtedly because of the huge amount of cum filling up her belly. The sight made her groan helplessly and squeeze Lauren's cock hard with her pussy. It was all too much – the exquisite sensation of feeling like she was being split in two by the officer's massive cock, so deep inside her she was getting light-headed again; and the visual proof of just how much of a slut she was – her belly swollen with all the cum she'd swallowed so eagerly. Her body was completely weakened by the overwhelming pleasure and she was only managing to stay upright because she was so firmly impaled on Lauren's thick, throbbing meat.

Lauren had noticed Camila glancing down at her own stomach and she followed her gaze to see what was entrancing the smaller girl so much. The combination of the amazing feeling of being so deep inside that tight pussy and the realization that Camila’s belly was actually swollen from all of her and Lucy's cum nearly had her blowing her load on the spot. It took a huge amount of self-control not to cum and she knew she had to move things along – now.

"Lucy…" Lauren's voice was strangled and desperate and an already incredibly aroused Lucy needed no further urging. She knelt behind Camila between Lauren's spread legs and pushed the trembling girl forward a little, forcing her to lean down towards Lauren.

"Aaaaaaahhhh…" Camila groaned as the shift in position stretched her even more. She had to be dreaming – it just couldn't be possible to feel this good! Her groan quickly changed into an ecstatic shriek as she felt Lucy moving around behind her until the head of her cock was pressing up against her asshole.

"Oh yesyesyesyesyes PLEEAASE! Uh-uh-uh-uh!" As soon as Camila realized what was about to happen, she somehow found the strength to start riding Lauren hard and fast, powerful spasms coursing through her each time she dropped down and felt the officer's dick ram against her g-spot. She wasn't even sure if what was about to happen was physically possible considering the size of the cops' equipment, but instead of filling her with trepidation that thought was arousing her even more. She wanted to be stretched to the very limit; the thought was such a turn-on that she gushed out another wave of arousal onto Lauren who was by now covered in her cum.

Lucy grabbed her roughly by the hips to still her and she let out whining moan – disappointed to have been stopped from riding the Latina beneath her but also trembling with excitement for what was coming next. God why was the brunette taking so long?

"Oooooh please I want it, I want it so bad! I want to take it like a whore, please I need – UUUUUUUHHHH!"

Lucy had slowly eased the head of her cock in, gasping at the tightness and fighting the urge to just thrust in hard and fast. It was going to take some finesse to fit herself in when Camila also had her pussy filled up so completely. Inch by torturous inch she eased herself in, her ears ringing a little with the petite brunette's loud, incessant howling. She could actually feel Lauren through the layer of skin separating their dicks and she locked eyes with her over Camila's shoulder as she finally pushed herself all the way in, rubbing against the hardness in Camila's pussy.

Lauren was just as entranced by the sensation as Lucy was – she was gasping for breath at the thought of Camila being so filled, her insides being stretched so much. She couldn't believe someone so small and so tight could actually take them both in her cunt and ass at the same time. Glancing up at Camila she felt her dick twitch at the look on her face – she'd stopped howling when Lucy finally bottomed out up her ass and was letting out a continuous stream of breathy little moans. As well as the obvious arousal in her eyes there was also a look of faint bewilderment as if she too couldn't quite believe what was happening.

There was a moment of absolute stillness as they all prepared themselves; Lucy and Lauren both reached for Camila's hips, seeking some sort of leverage. They intertwined their fingers so that each had a good grip on the soft, tan skin. They locked eyes and grinned at each other before letting loose and fucking the brunette with wild abandon.

'OOOOOOOH FUUUCK! AH-AH-AH-AAAAHHH shiiiit that's incredible, I – UUUUNNGH FUCK I'M – OOOH – I'M CUMMING!"

Camila couldn't help herself – the two cops had barely started and she was already in the throes of what had to be the best, most powerful orgasm yet. But the ecstasy didn't stop – before she could recover from that mind-blowing climax she was thrown into another, and then another. She couldn't even speak or scream anymore, just passively kneel with her eyes closed and her mouth hanging open as she convulsed wildly, her jerky spasms pushing her down even harder against the thick cocks bringing her so much pleasure. She couldn't form a coherent thought, her brain was totally fried as the white-hot pleasure pounded through her. She was well and truly trapped in the ecstasy of taking more cock than she ever had before, harder than she ever had before and she was loving every second. She started to feel light-headed again, whether from the pleasure ravaging her body or her inability to draw a full breath, and she felt her trembling muscles weaken as she was thrust closer and closer to unconsciousness.

Lauren noticed this and wasn't having it (though she herself felt a little woozy from the continuous pulsing clenching on her cock as multiple orgasms were ripping through Camila) and smacked Camila hard on her inner thighs, covering her hand in the brunette's cum.

"AAAAAAAH YESSSS!" The hard smacks seemed to have restored Camila's power of speech a little but before she could say much more a particularly hard thrust on Lucy's part made her shriek and gibber incoherently as she felt herself cum hard again.

Lucy knew she wouldn't last much longer – the repeated convulsions of Camila's tight asshole were driving her crazy and she started thrusting in at an unbelievable speed, moaning long and loud as she came along with Camila, filling her ass up with a truly prodigious amount of cum. Camila screamed as she felt the thick, sticky warmth of the officer's cum flood her ass and her eyes rolled back in her head when she felt another orgasm rise up in her. She wasn't sure she could take much more pleasure but at the same time she never wanted it to stop. She grunted as Lucy pulled out, completely spent, and her cum started dribbling out of her stretched wide-open hole.

It was too much for Lauren – the look of sheer ecstasy on Camila's face as Lucy had cum in her ass broke her self-control completely. She started ramming up into Camila, grunting as she felt the beginnings of her orgasm. She yelled loudly as she felt herself start to spurt into the brunette's tight cunt:

"AAAAAGH TAKE IT ALL SLUT! OH GOD UUUUUNNNGH YESSSSS!"

Camila shuddered helplessly as an unbelievable amount of cum was pumped into her pussy, causing a huge orgasm that milked Lauren's cock dry. She howled and screamed before her eyes rolled back into her head and she passed out completely, collapsing onto Lauren. Despite feeling weak and drained, Lauren couldn't contain a small grin at having fucked Camila into unconsciousness twice in one night. She tried to talk to her partner but only a hoarse gasp came out. Luckily Lucy was able to figure out what she wanted and, having managed to regain some of her strength, she lifted Camila up and off Lauren; shaking her head in disbelief when the unconscious girl's hips jerked a little.

She placed Camila face down on the carpet, staring appreciatively at the delicious sight of her cum leaking out of Camila's abused asshole. She slowly and reluctantly started getting dressed – though she didn't want to leave, she was pretty sure she couldn't go another round and besides, she and Lauren had work the next day. Lauren had also grudgingly begun to put her uniform back on, still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that she had just the hottest, most mind-blowing sex in her life – all due to a traffic stop. She suddenly remembered a promise she'd made earlier…. She used her hand to gather as much cum from between Camila's legs as she could and started smearing it all over her ass and back, admiring the contrast of the white cum against tan skin. With an enormous effort she flipped Camila over whilst Lucy watched open-mouthed and repeated the procedure, taking special care to coat Camila's tits and nipples thoroughly. She gave Camila's cum-covered body a satisfied look and pulled the rest of her clothes on. When both she and her brunette partner were dressed she delivered a volley of hard smacks to Camila's wet thighs, bringing her round with a low moan. She stood up on trembling legs and sneered down at the barely conscious girl below her.

"Well whore, do you think you've finally learnt your lesson?" Camila nodded weakly, unable to move at all. For the first time in her life, she felt completely full and satisfied.

Lucy wasn't ready to let go quite yet and she chimed in with a similar sneer in her voice. "Well in case you need a little reminder now and then, Officer Jauregui and I now know where to find a dirty slut to take our frustrations out on, don't we?"

"That we do, Lucy, that we do."

Camila managed another weak nod, a silly smile drifting across her lips at the thought of receiving another good fucking sometime. Lucy and Lauren stepped over to let themselves out, leaving her on the floor like a discarded, well-used whore. She felt another little twitch in her pussy at the thought and finally passed out again when she heard her front door close, still with a silly, dazed grin on her face.

[dailynynews-blog]

Things to Do in Downtown Los Angeles

New Post has been published on https://www.usatelegraph.com/2018/things-downtown-los-angeles/

Things to Do in Downtown Los Angeles

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Downtown Los Angeles Photo Tour

Unlike other large cities, many people visit Los Angeles without ever setting foot Downtown. That’s a shame, since Downtown LA is rich with historic architecture and cultural attractions, not to mention sports and entertainment complexes. This slide show gives you a preview of some of the cool things to do in Downtown Los Angeles that are worth a visit.

For the rest of Los Angeles, check out our guide to Things to Do in LA.

Find a hotel in Downtown LA

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Visit El Pueblo de Los Angeles Historical Monument at Olvera Street

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El Pueblo de Los Angeles Historical Monument, also known simply as Olvera Street, is the location of the oldest remaining structure in Los Angeles, the Avila Adobe. The building itself is often overlooked, since people are primarily drawn to Olvera Street for its Mexican Marketplace that offers a cleaned-up taste of old Mexico. It is the home of the LA Plaza de Cultural y Artes museum of Los Angeles history and The Chinese American Museum.

Olvera Street is a one-block pedestrian zone across from Union Station, which is served by the Red and Gold Lines of the Metro.

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Visit OUE Skyspace LA for the Skyslide or Just the View

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Most major cities have an observation deck on top of a skyscraper. Los Angeles finally has one too. OUE Skyspace LA is a pair of observation decks on the 69th floor of the tallest building in LA, the US Bank Tower in the Downtown LA Financial District.

To go beyond the typical observation deck experience, OUE installed a glass sliding board from the 70th to the 69th floor. It’s only a 2 to 3-second slide, but you can’t beat the view.

More on Skyspace LA

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Visit the Broad Museum in Downtown Los Angeles

•••

The Broad, pronounced Brode, is a new contemporary art museum opening September 20, 2015 on Grand Avenue, next to the Walt Disney Disney Concert Hall in Downtown Los Angeles.  Built by philanthropists Eli and Edythe Broad, the 120,000 square foot museum will house their personal and Foundation art collections of over 2,000 works by more than 200 artists.

Read more about The Broad.

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See a Show at the Disney Concert Hall and the LA Music Center

•••

The Los Angeles Music Center consists of the three original theaters that are home to the city’s drama, dance and opera companies, as well as the more recently added Disney Concert Hall, which is the home of the LA Philharmonic. There are self-guided audio tours of the Disney Concert Hall, as well as daily guided tours of the Music Center.

The best way to see the theatres is to see a show, from the LA Philharmonic at the Disney Concert Hall, the Los Angeles Ballet or Los Angeles Opera at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion or live theatre at the Mark Taper Forum or Ahmanson Theatre.

LA Music Center Guide

Disney Concert Hall Guide and Photo Tour

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Grand Central Market in Downtown LA

•••

Grand Central Market is an indoor public market that extends from Hill Street to Broadway at 3rd Street in Downtown LA.  The market has been open continuously since 1917. It has always housed a mix of greengrocers, butchers, delis, bakers and prepared food vendors. In recent years, offerings have gone from “fresh, local” to “artisanal and gourmet,” sometimes referring to the same vendors with a new spin, but more often reflecting trendy newcomers.

When I first visited the Grand Central Market a couple decades ago, shoppers were predominantly Latino and Asian families from the neighborhood. Now they’re joined by hipsters of every background who are part of the new Downtown lifestyle.

Traditionally, Grand Central Market has closed early, but in mid-2014, they extended hours Thursday through Saturday from 8 am to 9 pm for dinner. the rest of the week, hours are 8 am to 6 pm.

Check out Traditions and New Trends at Grand Central Market

Nearby:

The Bradbury Building is across Broadway at 3rd.

The Last Bookstore is 3 blocks away at 5th and Spring

Angels Flight Funicular Railway is across Hill Street

Museum of Contemporary Art is 1 block straight up steep stairs and across California Plaza

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Visit the GRAMMY Museum in Downtown LA

•••

The GRAMMY Museum at L.A. Live in Downtown Los Angeles presents the history of recorded music and the history of the GRAMMY Awards that recognize the best in recorded music.

Read more about visiting the GRAMMY Museum

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Shop and Explore the Fashion District in Los Angeles

•••

The Fashion District is a great place to shop for bargain clothes, textiles and accessories. People who can fit into sample sizes will find extreme bargains on designer garb. The Fashion District website includes a photo tour as well as a podcast tour you can download. It gets really crazy on Saturdays. Many businesses are closed on Sundays, so it’s not as busy, but there’s not as much selection.

Read my Guide to the LA Fashion District.

The Fashion Institute for Design and Merchandising (FIDM) at 9th and Grand just outside the Fashion district has a gallery that features costume exhibits from movies and TV.

The Flower District, Jewelry District and Toy District are a few blocks each north of the Fashion District.

The Metro Blue Line San Pedro Station is one block south of the southern end of the Fashion District.

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Visit the Downtown Los Angeles Arts District

•••

Most people assume that the Downtown Art Walk happens in the Arts District. But Gallery Row is not actually in the Downtown Los Angeles Arts District. The Arts District is an industrial area in Downtown LA a few blocks to the east of Gallery Row that has been growing into an artists’ community since the 1970’s. It has the highest density of murals in the city, which you can explore on your own or on any number of tours. In addition to murals, street art, studios and galleries, the area has drawn film and media companies, ad agencies and other creatives.

Read more and take a Photo Tour of the Los Angeles Arts District.

Getting from Gallery Row to the Arts District.

At the north end, on 1st, 2nd or 3rd Streets, it’s just a couple or four blocks to walk across Little Tokyo from Gallery Row to the top of the Arts District, but at the south end (5th Street or lower), because Spring and Main are at an angle, the two arts areas are up to 10 blocks apart, separated by Skid Row.

Nearby:

Adjacent to Little Tokyo

South of Union Station

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Explore Chinatown in LA

•••

Chinatown in downtown Los Angeles, sometimes known as New Chinatown, was developed around the Central Plaza in 1938, just west of Old Chinatown, where Union Station is now. Before the move, this area was LA’s Little Italy, and is still home to St. Peter’s Italian Church and Casa Italiana Cultural Center. LA’s Chinatown is less dense than New York or San Francisco. The shops don’t line the streets as thickly, but there are still a few cute stores and plazas through the serpent gateway heading north on Broadway from Cesar Chavez. The neon pagoda lights and lanterns at Central Plaza make a colorful display at night. Most of the notable landmarks in Chinatown are a few blocks from the Chinatown Metro Station.

The Chinese American Museum is not in Chinatown. It is a few blocks away at Olvera Street.

Photo Tour of Chinatown’s Instagram-Worthy Sights

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Visit Union Station Los Angeles

•••

Union Station is still the hub of long distance and commuter rail transportation in Los Angeles, serving Amtrak, MetroLink and MTA Metro trains. It’s also worth visiting as an architectural landmark, with a gorgeous waiting hall and public areas.

More on Union Station

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Take a Tour of Los Angeles City Hall

•••

200 North Spring Street Los Angeles, CA 90012 (213) 978-1995 www.lacity.org

Built in 1928, the 32-story Los Angeles City Hall was the tallest building in the city until modern building methods allowed taller high rise buildings to appear in the 1960s. The building is a Los Angeles Historic-Cultural Monument. It is still home to the mayor and city council office and council chambers. It is part of the Civic Center district, which also includes county, state and federal buildings.

The iconic City Hall tower has appeared as itself and stood in for other locations in dozens of TV shows and movies.

This photo shows City Hall with a street sign pointing toward all of the city’s many sister cities.

You can walk in (through the metal detectors) and explore on your own with the self-guided tour materials available at the information desk on the 3rd Floor. Be sure to take the elevator up to the observation deck on the 27th floor. You have to take the Express Elevator to the 22nd Floor, then another adjacent elevator to the 26th floor. Finally, you walk up one flight through the Mayor Tom Bradley Room and exit onto the Observation Balcony that circles the building.

Docent-led City Hall Tours are available weekday mornings from 9 am to noon. The last tour usually leaves around 11, but it’s not a fixed schedule. If you make a reservation, you’re more likely to land on the right hour for a tour, and might even get your parking covered.

At other times of day, there’s 2-hour metered street parking within a block or two, or you can check Bestparking.com for nearby parking rates. City Hall can also be reached via Metro Red and Purple Lines to Civic Center Station.

Nearby:

Grand Park is across the street.

The Music Center is on the opposite side of Grand Park – 3 blocks up the hill.

El Pueblo de Los Angeles Historic Site (Olvera Street) is 3 blocks northeast.

The Cathedral of Our Lady is three blocks northwest on Temple Street

Chinatown is four blocks north.

Little Tokyo is three blocks southeast down 1st Street.

It’s also just 5 blocks to Union Station.

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Grand Park in Downtown LA

•••

Grand Park opened in July 2012, expanding green space 12 acres over the three blocks between the Los Angeles Music Center on Grand Avenue and Los Angeles City Hall on Spring Street. The sides of the park along all three blocks are bordered by public buildings that face Temple to the north and 1st Street to the south.

At the west end of the park, the restored Arthur J. Will Memorial Fountainincludes a spouted wading area that is a popular place to cool off on hot summer days. At night, a light show draws romantic strolling couples and photo enthusiasts.

The park includes 24 botanic gardens inspired by the six Floristic Kingdoms of the world and plenty of green lawn for playing and relaxing. The only vendor in the park is a Starbucks near the fountain, which is in the same facility as the public restrooms.

The middle block of Grand Park is designated as an event space, and hosts a variety of summer concerts, but the entire three blocks are used for bigger events including the annual Fourth of July and New Year’s Eve block parties.

The Civic Center/Grand Park Metro Station is at Hill Street and Grand Park. There is an underground parking garage. 

Nearby:

The Cathedral if Our Lady of the Angels is 1/2 block north

Disney Concert Hall is 1 block south down Grand

The Museum of Contemporary Art and California Plaza are 2 blocks south down Grand

Chinatown is 2.5 blocks north

El Pueblo de Los Angeles Historic Site is 4 blocks north

The Bradbury Building is 4 blocks south on Broadway

Little Tokyo is 4 blocks southeast

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Explore the Art at Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels

•••

The Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angeles, designed by Spanish architect Jose Rafael Moneo, was completed in 2002, replacing the Cathedral of St. Vibiana, which was damaged beyond repair in the Northridge Earthquake in 1994 and has now been converted to a rental wedding and event venue. The modern structure towers over the 101 Hollywood Freeway from its perch between Olvera Street and Chinatown. Even if you’re not interested in the religious significance of the church, the art pieces, from the courtyard windows over the freeway, through the grand bronze doors to the community tapestry murals, are worth a visit.

The modern gray architectural masterpiece that balances the opposite side of the freeway from the Cathedral is Central Los Angeles Arts High School #9.

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Taste LA’s Japanese Culture in Little Tokyo

•••

Little Tokyo is the Japanese cultural center of Los Angeles, with Japanese shops, restaurants and bakeries populating a few short blocks. Of special note is the Japanese-American National Museum, dedicated to the experience of Americans of Japanese ancestry. Every year in August, Little Tokyo celebrates Nisei Week, with back to back weekends of street festivals, pageants and other cultural celebrations.

Little Tokyo is bounded by Temple Street on the north, 3rd Street (with some overflow) to the south, Los Angeles Street to the west, and Alameda to the east. The heart of Little Tokyo is the pedestrian zone between 1st and 2nd Streets just west of Central Avenue, across the street from the Japanese-American National Museum.

Also nearby: The Geffen Contemporary, a branch of the Museum of Contemporary Art is located in Little Tokyo.

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Museum of Contemporary Art

•••

250 South Grand Avenue Los Angeles, CA 90012 www.moca.org

The Museum of Contemporary Art (MOCA) is located just down Grand Avenue and across the street from The Broad museum of contemporary art and the Music Center and Disney Concert Hall. The museum’s collection and touring exhibits feature work created since 1940.

MOCA also has another branch downtown, the Geffen Contemporary at 152 North Central Avenue in Little Tokyo, and a branch at the Pacific Design Center in West Hollywood.

Nearby:

MOCA Downtown is next to California Plaza, where Grand Performances hold summer concerts. At California Plaza, you’ll also find the top station for the Angels Flight funicular railway down to Hill Street (which is rarely operational).

Grand Central Market is at the bottom of the hill.

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Walk the GRAMMY Walk of Fame

•••

Not quite as long as the Hollywood Walk of Fame, the GRAMMY Walk of Fameconsists of a series of pavement medallions around L.A. Live, each recognizing the winners in the top 4 GRAMMY categories every year since the first awards in 1959.

Take the Grammy Walk of Fame Trivia Tour or check me out talking about the GRAMMY Walk of Fame with Gayle Anderson on the KTLA Morning News.

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Attend an Event at L.A. Live and Staples Center

•••

L.A. Live is a dining and entertainment complex next to the Staples Center in Downtown LA. Multiple live entertainment venues and restaurants surround the Nokia Plaza, which is adorned with a series of high definition outdoor screens with synchronized content to give a “bright lights, big city” feel of a miniature Times Square.

Staples Center hosts the LA Lakers and Clippers basketball and the LA Kings hockey games, as well as other major concerts and stadium events.

Check Goldstar for discount tickets for events at Staples Center and L.A. Live.

Nearby:

The Grammy Museum,

Adjacent to the Los Angeles Convention Center

Pico Station on the Metro Blue Line

Figat7th Shopping Center and Food Court 3 blocks north on Figueroa

Fashion Institute for Design and Merchandising (FIDM) Gallery – 4 blocks at 9th and Grand

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Los Angeles Central Library

•••

The Los Angeles Central Library is a great place to visit on a budget. It costs nothing to admire the Art Deco architecture, explore the public art installations and temporary exhibits, settle in to read a newspaper or book in any of a dozen languages, or check your email online. There are also extensive public programs including author readings, lectures, discussion panels and performances.

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The Last Bookstore

•••

The Last Bookstore 453 S Spring St – Ground Floor Los Angeles, CA 90013 (213) 488-0599 lastbookstorela.com

The Last Bookstore, at the corner of 5th and Spring in Downtown Los Angeles, has become an international tourist draw. The shop is located on two floors of a re-purposed historic bank building that also houses the Crocker Club – one of Downtown LA’s Coolest Clubs. The address is on Spring Street, but the entrance is around the corner on 5th.

They don’t just sell, buy and trade second-hand books and records at the Last Bookstore. They’ve created an intriguing combination of quirky art and wide-ranging literature in a really unique space. The bones of the original architecture are allowed to shine through with a painted beamed ceiling supported by classic columns. The second floor wraps around the open first floor with a balcony walkway, keeping your eyes busy with everything going on above and below.

Upstairs houses unique art studios and galleries, a knitting shop and a…MORE

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Gallery Row in Downtown Los Angeles

Most LA locals who don’t live downtown, are vaguely aware that there’s a Downtown LA Art Walk on the 2nd Thursday of the month, but have never been down there. The Art Walk, which draws thousands of people every month, developed along Gallery Row, an area located along Main and Spring between 2nd and 9th Streets. This stretch is lined with cutting-edge galleries and a few trendy bars and restaurants.

22of 30

Check Out Downtown LA Nightlife

Most visitors think of Hollywood and West Hollywood for LA nightlife, but Downtown LA has some of the coolest clubs and bars in town, from a subterranean power plant and a historic bank vault to lofty high-rise terraces and rooftops, and secret hideaways.

23of 30

Los Angeles Conservancy Downtown Walking Tours

•••

The Los Angeles Conservancy offers a variety of weekend walking tours featuring different sections of Downtown Los Angeles.  You can explore the historic Broadway Theatre and Commercial District, LA’s Art Deco landmarks, modern developments, Union Station or the classic Millennium Biltmore Hotel, to name a few. The LA Conservancy also organizes the Last Remaining Seats movie screenings in classic downtown movie theatres.

24of 30

The Bradbury Building

•••

Driving by the Bradbury Building, you wouldn’t even notice it, surrounded as it is by the more impressive Million Dollar Theatre and the Grand Central Market. But if you step inside, the almost steampunk ironwork and wood paneling, inspired by a science fiction book, is worth getting out of the car.

On the South side of the Bradbury Building is Biddy Mason Park, which includes an 82-foot concrete wall called  “Biddy Mason’s Place: A Passage of Time,” that tells the story of Biddy Mason, born a slave, who became a wealthy Los Angeles philanthropist, helping to found the first Black church in LA at this location.

25of 30

FIDM Gallery – Fashion Institute for Design and Merchandising

•••

The FIDM Museum and Galleries at the Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising 919 S. Grand Ave. Los Angeles, CA 90015 1-800-624-1200 fidmmuseum.org

The Fashion Institute for Design and Merchandising (FIDM) has a fashion and costume gallery that exhibits costumes from their permanent collection of more than 200 years of fashion history from haute couture to film costumes. They also host an annual exhibited of each year’s Oscar-nominated movie costumes.

  26of 30

Take the Toddlers to Bob Baker Marionettes

It’s a little freaky to go to a marionette show if you don’t have toddlers, but if you do, Bob Baker Marionettes in Downtown LA is a longstanding tradition for the LA pre-K crowd who sit on the floor to watch the puppets who are bigger than they are.

27of 30

Take in a Baseball Game at Dodger Stadium

•••

Dodger Stadium, home of the Los Angeles Dodgers baseball franchise, is a great place to take in a ball game during baseball season. You can also tour the iconic 1962 stadium any time of year. For attending games, a free shuttle runs from Union Station in Downtown LA, so it’s easy to take public transportation.

More on Dodger Stadium

  28of 30

Pershing Square

Pershing Square is a public plaza in the middle of Downtown Los Angeles that hosts concerts, films, dance parties and other fun during the summer. During the winter, it’s home to the Downtown on Ice skating rink and winter holiday festival. Pershing Square also hosts an annual St. Patrick’s Day celebration and a Spring Eggstravaganza at Easter.

There is a weekly Friday Farmers Market and Food Truck Lunch.

A park has been at this location since 1886, but the current quirky park plan, with it’s purple tower and brightly colored sculptures was designed by Architect Ricardo Legoretta and landscapist Laurie Olin in the early 1990s.

More on Summer Concert Series in LA

More on Outdoor Ice Skating in Los Angeles

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See a Grand Performances Show at California Plaza

•••

California Plaza is a space behind the Museum of Contemporary Art in Downtown Los Angeles that is home to a summer full of concerts hosted by Grand Performances. A fountain separates the stage from the audience. Seating for performances consists of amphitheater benches on one side, blankets on the other, and chairs set up directly across from the stage. A second level balcony has benches and room for more blankets.

More on Grand Performances

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The Brewery Art Complex

The Brewery art colony is an old brewery in Downtown LA that has been converted into artist studios and galleries. Fourteen buildings on 23 acres house over 500 artists and art-related businesses. Some galleries are open regularly, but most of the studios are only open for the twice yearly Brewery Art Walk, usually in April and October.

You can also visit the Brewery on one of the LA Art Tours that happens a couple times a month.