#I’ve talked to him perfectly fine before and now I can’t even form basic sentences

[thjbbrwcky]

[thelastspeecher]

Spirit Touched - Chapter 1: Little Prince

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4   Chapter 5   Chapter 6   AO3

Uhhhh so this is the first time I’ve written and posted something for ATLA, and of course it wound up being because of a fanart of a fanfic that I adore.  Basically, yesterday I saw this art drawn by my pal @agent-jaselin.  And that art appeared to apply one of my all-time favorite tropes (de-aging) to one of my all-time favorite fics (Salvage, by @muffinlance).  And dagnabit, I...got inspired.

So, without further ado, here is my interpretation of a theoretical Zuko being de-aged after Chapter 8 of Salvage.  Enjoy.

——————————————————————————————

              Praying to the spirits for guidance was a mistake.  Hakoda could see that now.  He pinched the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to dispel the headache already forming.

              This is what I get for thinking the spirits might make things easier. Their actions are rarely convenient for us mortals.

              “Bring him to Kustaa,” Hakoda said after a moment.  Toklo nodded and hurried for the healer’s room, his friend in his arms, buried in a pile of furs.  Bato looked at Hakoda.  He raised an eyebrow silently.

              “That’s new,” he said.  The casual tone made Hakoda’s headache pound in full force.  Bato was treating this as just another matter of fact.  Like seeing the former Prince of the Fire Nation reduced to a toddler overnight was just as common as…

              Hakoda’s head hurt too much to even think of something that was common.

              “Yes,” Hakoda finally said.  “It is new.” He was struggling to align the grumpy teenager of yesterday with the toddler he’d just seen drooling in his sleep.

              “How could this have happened?” Bato asked quietly.

              “I asked the spirits for help last night.”  Hakoda scowled.  It was help he’d desperately needed, after Zuko had broken down in front of him and renounced his crown, maybe even renounced his own nation.  And it was help he was obviously not getting. “Apparently, they didn’t want to make things easier.”

              “The spirits work in mysterious ways,” Bato said.  “It’s best to trust in their judgement.  Eventually, you’ll understand why they’ve done…this.” Hakoda eyed his second-in-command.

              “Since when are you so spiritual?”

              “Since meeting the bridge between the spirit world and ours,” Bato said flatly.

              “Fair enough.”  Hakoda sighed.  “I should go speak with Kustaa.”

              “I might be best if you were there when the little prince woke up,” Bato agreed.  He thumped Hakoda on the back.  “At least you’re good with children!”

----- 

              Unlike every other day since he’d recovered from his illness, Zuko didn’t wake up with the sun.  If he didn’t remember how much his own children slept at this age, Hakoda would have been concerned.  He sat in the infirmary, having a hushed conversation with Kustaa while Zuko continued to snore.  The sight of a toddler swimming in furs was painfully cute and reminded Hakoda of when Sokka was young.

              “I’ll be able to get a better examination done once he’s awake,” Kustaa said in a low voice.  “But from what I can tell, he’s perfectly healthy.”

              “He’s a toddler,” Hakoda said.

              “A healthy one.”  Kustaa glanced at Zuko.  “By my estimation, about four years old.  So, almost out of the toddler years.”  Zuko rolled over in his sleep, mumbling something.  Kustaa and Hakoda held their breaths.  Zuko didn’t wake up.  “From what he’s told me, he didn’t get that scar until a few years ago, so I’m not completely sure why he still has it.”

              “The spirits are testing me,” Hakoda moaned.  Kustaa chuckled.

              “No, Chief.  The spirits are testing all of us with this stunt.”  He sighed and leaned back.  “Now would be a good time to have a waterbending healer, to examine his spirit and chi.  But the odds of finding one of those…”

              “Aren’t good unless we stumble across a Northern Tribe ship,” Hakoda said, finishing the healer’s sentence.  Kustaa nodded.  There was movement from Zuko’s pile of furs.  Hakoda and Kustaa looked over.  A small hand fought its way out, followed by a head.  Zuko’s regular scowl was replaced by confusion as he stared at Hakoda and Kustaa, who most likely seemed larger to him than they had yesterday.

              “You’re up,” Kustaa said calmly.  Zuko shoved away the furs he was buried in.  His eyes widened at the sight of his body.  Hakoda grimaced.

              There was a split second of dumbfounded silence before the screaming started.

----- 

              Kustaa wasn’t sure whether he preferred Zuko like this or not.  On the one hand, it would be difficult to run the ship with a literal toddler on board.  But on the other hand, it was much easier to handle Zuko.  He could literally be picked up and carried somewhere else if needed.

              “This doesn’t fit right!” Zuko whined.  Kustaa glanced over at his young charge.  Zuko had insisted on dressing himself in the smallest shirt they could find on the ship.  That smallest shirt came down to past his feet.

              Then again, so will everything else.  Kustaa beckoned Zuko to come.  Zuko scowled but walked over.  Kustaa fought back an amused grin at the firebender’s toddling gait.  While not as severe as it would be for someone younger, it was still evident.

              “Nothing is going to fit right until either we adjust clothes to fit you or purchase ones already in your size,” Kustaa said.  He adjusted the shirt as best he could by pinning it up and wrapping rope around Zuko’s waist to act as a belt.  “Now that you’re dressed, we need to go see the chief.” Zuko’s eyes went wide in horror.

              “No!  I’m not going outside like this.”

              “Everyone knows what’s happened to you,” Kustaa said, getting to his feet. He took Zuko’s hand.  It was small and warm.  “Most of them saw you already, and the rest were informed by either the chief or Bato.”

              “…Fine,” Zuko grumbled.  Kustaa led him out onto the deck.  The moment eyes landed on him, Zuko dropped Kustaa’s hand to hide behind his legs.

              “Wow, you’re barely older than the babes we left at the South Pole,” Panuk remarked.  Zuko didn’t move or speak.

              “I think he’s adorable,” Toklo said firmly, marching over.  He crouched down to Zuko’s eye-height.  “I always wanted a baby brother.”

              “I’m not a baby,” Zuko snapped.  At his high-pitched, youthful voice, Toklo beamed.  “I’m sixteen.”

              “Four,” Kustaa corrected.  Zuko scowled.

              “Either way, that’s not a baby.”

              “Aw, no need to pout,” Toklo cooed.  Zuko’s scowl deepened.  “It’ll be fun having a little kid on board.”

              “Will it?” rumbled Aake.  “We only let men join the crew for a reason.”  Zuko let out a small squeak as Toklo lifted him up and held him out for Aake to see.

              “Try saying ‘no’ to this face,” Toklo said.  Aake’s deadpan expression didn’t change.

              “No.”

              “Were you saying ‘no’ to Zuko or ‘no’ to saying ‘no’ to him?” Toklo asked. Aake shrugged and continued to sharpen his spear.  Zuko squirmed in Toklo’s hold.

              “Let me go!” he snarled.  He broke loose, falling to the deck with a soft thump.  Kustaa waited for the tears that would come from a toddler being dropped. But Zuko didn’t cry.  His eyes were glistening in a way that suggested he was holding back tears, but he remained otherwise stoic.  Kustaa filed this observation away for now.  He walked over to Zuko and pulled him up.

              “The chief needs to talk to you, remember?” he said.  Zuko nodded silently, allowing Kustaa to lead him to Hakoda’s cabin.

----- 

              The moment they set foot inside the cabin, Kustaa could tell Hakoda was going to struggle with not seeing Sokka every time he looked at Zuko.  At least Bato was there to help mediate things.

              “Take a seat,” Hakoda said.  Zuko toddled over to the chair he normally sat in.  After a moment, he climbed onto the seat with obvious difficulty.  Bato stifled a laugh.  “Zuko, we’re not sure why the spirits have done this to you.”

              “Probably because they hate me,” Zuko muttered, crossing his arms.

              “Well, no matter why you’ve been turned into a toddler, the fact of the matter is that it has happened to you.  Generally, we don’t allow children your age to be on our ships.”  Zuko paled and opened his mouth to make his case. Hakoda held up a hand.  “Given your…extenuating circumstances, we won’t be dropping you off at the next port or something like that.  Who knows, maybe you’ll wake up tomorrow sixteen again. Until we have a better understanding of your condition, including how long it might last, you’ll be staying on the Akhlut.  Do you understand?”

              “Yes,” Zuko said with a nod, visibly relieved.

              “Good.  Now, just because you’ll still be on board, don’t expect things to stay the same for you. You won’t be required to do any chores on the ship.  If you want to help, you can, but the crew has been instructed to stop you from overexerting yourself or doing something that might hurt you at your current age.” Zuko’s eyes boggled.  “Additionally, you’ll be sleeping in the infirmary with Kustaa for the foreseeable future.  It will be more comfortable for you.”

              “Understood,” Zuko mumbled.

              “Another change is that you will be expected to do what a child your age must in order to remain healthy,” Hakoda said.  Zuko tilted his head curiously.  “In particular, you will have to take naps.”

              “What?!” Zuko shrieked.

              “We can’t have a cranky, overtired firebender on our wooden ship,” Bato said.  Zuko crossed his arms, scowling.

              “Those are the major changes.  We will adjust things as we see fit,” Hakoda said.

              “Okay.”  Zuko fidgeted in his seat, an abrupt reminder to the men in the room of how hyperactive toddlers were.  “Um, about my clothes…”

              “Go see Panuk and Toklo.  They offered to try to cobble together something for you until we can make port,” Hakoda said.  Zuko ducked his head.

              “Thank you.”  He slipped off his chair and left the cabin, his head held high in an attempt to maintain any dignity.  Once the door closed, Kustaa looked at Hakoda and Bato.

              “He’s not going to act like a toddler if he can avoid it,” Kustaa said. “He’s almost certainly going to resist the reduced workload and naps.”  Hakoda nodded.

              “I agree,” he said solemnly.

              “This won’t end well,” Bato said, shaking his head.  “There’s a reason we wouldn’t normally have someone his age on board.”  There was a loud ruckus from the deck; clattering, heavy footsteps, and Toklo’s voice.

              “Come on, Zuko, it’ll look so cute!”

              “That,” Bato said, “is the reason.”

-----

              Hakoda begrudgingly agreed with Toklo’s assessment.  Zuko was cuter than he had any right looking, walking around the ship with a blanket draped over his shoulders like a cape.  According to Toklo, Zuko had begun shivering while he and Panuk were working on finding something for the new toddler to wear. Toddlers tended to get cold easier, and Hakoda supposed that being a firebender might make Zuko more vulnerable to cold as is.

              “Are you hungry yet, little prince?” Panuk asked.  Zuko looked up from his fumbling attempts at making a net.

              “Don’t call me that,” he snarled.  Panuk patted Zuko’s bald head.

              “All right.  You hungry yet, Zuko?” he asked.  Zuko’s stomach rumbled loudly.  “I’ll take that as a yes.”  Panuk got up. “Come on.  Let’s fill you up with sea prunes.”  Zuko got to his feet and eagerly followed Panuk.  Hakoda watched Zuko toddle across the deck and to the kitchen.

              “You’re getting soft, Chief, I can tell,” Aake, standing nearby, said quietly. Hakoda looked at him.  Aake sighed.  “But I’m getting soft, too.  We left when Sitka was about that age.”  A weary and wistful expression settled on Aake’s face.  “I miss my son.”

              “I miss mine as well,” Hakoda said quietly.  Suddenly, Zuko burst onto the deck, his arms full of sea prunes, running from Panuk.

              “Hey!  You don’t get all of them!” Panuk protested, coming onto the deck as well.  Zuko merely sped up.  Hakoda and Aake’s eyes widened as they realized the former Fire Nation Prince was giggling as Panuk chased him.  Zuko’s lighthearted, childish peals of laughter filled the air. He rushed belowdeck, his blanket still wrapped around his shoulders.  Panuk followed.  A silence fell.  After a moment, Tuluk, who was swabbing the deck, spoke.

              “Well, that was adorable.”

----- 

              Hakoda expected Zuko to hide belowdeck, embarrassed by behaving like a toddler.  But Zuko returned to the deck after a while, seemingly unaware of how childish he had acted. He walked up to various crewmen in an attempt to do some of his old chores.  Each time, he was turned away.  His regular scowl settled on his face, chubby with baby fat.

              “Can’t do anything,” Zuko muttered as he stalked around the deck, his blanket trailing behind him.  He finally sat down next to the mast, pouting.

              “It’s good that you can’t do anything,” Hakoda said, walking over. Zuko looked up.  “Leaving a task in the middle of doing it doesn’t usually produce good results.”

              “Why would I not complete a task?” Zuko asked.  He crossed his arms.  “I’m not really a child, I can focus.”

              “You’d need to take a break for your nap,” Hakoda informed him.  Zuko’s eyes widened.  “I saw you yawning just now.  You’re tired.”

              “No, I’m not!” Zuko said, jumping to his feet.  He shed his blanket cape.  “I won’t nap.”

              “You agreed to take naps.”

              “Only if I needed them.  I don’t. I’m not tired.”  Zuko’s argument sounded eerily like those Sokka made as a child.

              “There’s nothing for you to do anyways,” Hakoda pointed out.  He reached for Zuko’s hand.  Zuko darted away before he could be grabbed.  Unfortunately for his millionth escape attempt, Aake was nearby. Aake picked Zuko up as he ran past.

              “Let me go!” Zuko said, twisting in Aake’s grip.  “Let me go!”  A breath of flame escaped from his mouth.  He suddenly stilled.  Aake handed him over to Hakoda.  Zuko didn’t make a peep as Hakoda carried him across the deck and into the infirmary. Kustaa looked up from the book he was reading.

              “Is it time for my nephew’s nap?” he asked.  Hakoda nodded and set Zuko down.

              “Sleep,” he said firmly to Zuko.  “That’s an order.”  Zuko nodded, visibly cowed.

              “Yes, chief,” he mumbled.  Hakoda turned to leave.  “Sir, I apologize for firebending earlier,” Zuko said suddenly.  Hakoda looked over his shoulder at the toddler.

              “You firebending on accident wouldn’t have anything to do with agreeing to nap, would it?” he asked.

              “Uncle says that sleep works in concert with meditation to control your inner fire.  Children who are too young to know how to meditate only avoid burning down their house by taking…naps.”  Zuko scowled slightly.  “That’s the excuse he gives for being so lazy.”  Kustaa chuckled softly.

              “Judging by what happened on deck, your uncle might be right,” Hakoda said, feigning a casual tone.  Zuko nodded. “Sleep well, Zuko.”

              Hakoda poked his head into the infirmary after he had checked on the rest of the crewmen.  Some of the crew felt Zuko’s current size was an improvement.  Hakoda could see where they were coming from.  Zuko was yet again buried in a pile of furs, his minute arms wrapped around Scuttles.

              “He went down almost right after you left, chief,” Kustaa said quietly.  “I didn’t even need to make him any tea.”

              “Hopefully he won’t argue against naps in the future.”  Hakoda continued to watch Zuko sleep.  The toddler let out a soft snore.  “It’s foolish to expect that he’ll ask for a nap, though.”  Kustaa nodded.

              “I would agree with that.”  Zuko rolled over in his sleep with another snore.

              “Let me know if anything happens,” Hakoda said.

              “Of course,” Kustaa said.  He picked up another book, opened it, and began to read.  Hakoda left the infirmary, closing the door behind him as softly as he could.

[imagine-that]

Torn

Warnings: mentions of injury/abuse (Umbridge)

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader

AN: sorry I’ve been missing for a while!! First few weeks at a job, it gets kinda hectic lol. But I’ll try to write more as often as I can!!!

You walk nervously down the hall towards the office of the woman you loathed so much. Much to your dismay, you had to spend the evening in her vomit inducing office, writing lines.

Of course you weren’t stupid. You’d heard all about what writing lines actually entailed with the wench. You just never thought you’d be one of the students being forced to do them.

Though they didn’t particularly like your relationship, the Weasley twins had found out about your upcoming detention and they’d apparated to your side, scaring you half to death while they were at it.

“You two are relentless. She’ll catch you doing that someday you know!” You scold, giving them a stern and concerned look.

“And what? Make us write more lines? It barely hurts anymore for us.” They argue.

You suck in a breath at the mention of pain.

“You’ll be fine y/n. It doesn’t hurt nearly as bad as people say it does. And when it’s done, the pain mulls over quickly.” One of them assures you. You nod absentmindedly, knowing you’ve probably gone completely pale in the face.

You’d never thought you would have to do this horrid punishment. Sure you misbehaved sometimes and used magic when you knew Umbridge would yell but that wasn’t even the reason you were there to begin with.

The night before, filch had found you and your boyfriend Draco sneaking off, snogging each other. Of course being the kissup he was, Filch ran directly to Umbridge, shouting “students out of bed.” On repeat as he went. She came with that sickly sweet smile and, basically completely ignoring Draco’s presence, she’d given you detention for tonight.

“This form of punishment is completely barbaric. I’ve heard several professors say so as well.” You mutter, a frown etched on your face.

“We know.” The twins chorused.

You laugh faintly, their talking in unison all the time cheering you up a bit. Finally you hear the disgustingly familiar ahem and turn to her office door to see her gesturing you in.

The twins squeeze your hands and tell you it’ll be ok as you get to your feet, slowly making your way into her office.

“Sit.” She orders as she walks around her desk.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes and take a seat, biting your tongue to keep back any nasty comments you have.

“You will be writing lines for me today.” She hums, the smile you’d like to slap off of her perfectly in place.

“And what will I be writing today professor?” You ask with a raised eyebrow.

“I would like you to write I will act like a lady. Just enough times for it to sink in.” She instructs, giggling to herself.

You scoff, looking to her with anger and frustration. “Professor, that seems a tad bit sexist, does it not?” You ask.

“I did not give you permission to speak miss y/l/n. Now please do your punishment. It’s good for you to learn.” She says.

You sigh, picking up her stupid special quill and beginning to write, wincing as the words etch into your hand. At first it isn’t so bad, only breaking through the surface. But as you continue to write over the course of the next hour, you resist the urge to cry out in pain.

Every nerve in your hand is begging you to stop, the burning irritation making tears start in your eyes but you quickly hold them in, refusing to let this foul woman see that she’s gotten to you.

Finally, she tells you to stop, letting you put down the quill as your hand throbs, the surface of the scar a vibrant red.

“That should be enough for today. I do hope I don’t have to see you in here again miss y/l/n.” She warns.

“Yes Professor, lets hope.” You mutter, walking through the door and giving a sad smile to one of the nervous looking third years sitting outside her office and waiting to be summoned.

“Don’t be afraid. It’s over before you know it.” You promise him in a whisper, walking away before Umbridge has the chance to try and discipline you again.

You see Draco leaning against a wall, watching you but you ignore him, quickly brushing past and walking in the direction of your common room.

“Y/n!” He calls after you, running to catch up with you.

You continue to ignore him, getting onto one of the staircases as it starts moving.

“Darling what’s wrong?” He calls, finally catching up to you as he runs up the staircase.

You scoff at him, tears in your eyes. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong you ask!? Of course, you wouldn’t know. Why don’t you just go back to the inquisitorial squad, I’m sure they need you to help catch people breaking the rules.” You say through your tears, staying facing away from him.

“Y/n, what’re you so upset about?” He asks, reaching out to hold your hand. You yank it away, instead holding it up for him to see the scarring.

“Blimey, what is that?” He asks, grabbing your hand to examine it.

“That is what you and your bloody gang are sentencing people to.” You growl.

“Y/n- I had no idea.” He says softly. “But those people are breaking school rules! They must be punished.” He adds.

You stare at him with wide, hurt eyes. “Do you even hear yourself anymore?! The Draco I know and love would never put anyone through this.” You say, your bottom lip trembling at this point.

When he doesn’t speak, you decide you should. “Was I breaking some kind of rule for kissing my bloody boyfriend? Did I deserve for this to happen then?” You ask, looking over at him pleadingly.

“No, of course not love. You could never deserve anything like this!” He exclaims, holding your hand carefully in his.

“Then neither does everyone else.” You sigh, tugging your hand away and walking up the stairs, going to your common room and straight to bed.

——————————————————————

The next morning, you wake up with a sigh, glaring down at the words on your hand until you will yourself to get up.

Your roommates had already gone down for breakfast but you, having had a lousy evening the day before, had opted to stay in bed for a little longer and eat quickly.

You’d felt torn and distressed all evening. You loved draco with all your heart but the idea of him condoning such actions as those of professor Umbridge felt like a betrayal to you. You didn’t know what you could do, thus the stress resulted in a rather fitful sleep

Once you got dressed, you finally made your way to the dining room and ate a rather small meal, your appetite having disappeared.

“Y/n, wait up!” One of the Weasley twins shouts, trailing after you down the hall.

“Hey George, what do you need?” You ask, recognizing him as he approaches.

“I was meaning to give this to you. It’ll help with the scarring.” He explains, putting a small purple container in your hand.

“Wow, thanks. Where’d you get it?” You ask, worrying about if you ever had to do the lines again.

“Fred and I came up with it. Mostly me of course, I am the brains of the operation.” He says and a smug smile, making you laugh.

“Of course. Well it’s brilliant, thank you.” You reply with a smile of your own. He nods, quickly walking back to his brother to cause more mischief no doubt.

“So, I piss you off once and now you’re off snogging Weaselbee?” A voice says from behind, startling you enough to turn around.

“Draco, I was not snogging him, don’t be so daft and jealous.” You groan, giving him a knowing look.

“Sure looked like it to me.” He mutters with a shrug.

You sigh, looking back over at him. “It’s you I love you ninny. Even if you’re being a complete arse.” You promise, a frown still on your face.

He avoids your gaze, looking guilty. “I’m sorry about what I said last night. I didn’t mean it, honestly!” He apologizes, looking at you sadly.

“Draco, I can’t be with someone who would defend something like that.” You start, your heart aching at the idea of breaking up with him.

“I know you can’t.” He interrupts. You look over at him in shock, thinking this was what he wanted.

“That’s why I marched into Umbridge’s office this morning and quit the inquisitorial squad.” He adds, making you somewhat surprised. You never thought he’d quit something that his father put him up to like that. It was intriguing.

“Sure you did.” You mutter sarcastically, not fully believing him.

“I did. Do you see the badge anywhere here?” He asks, spinning in a slow circle to show you. Sure enough, the badge is no where to be found on him.

You blink, unsure what to say.

“Y/n?” He says a moment later, a gentle hand on your arm and his face etched with concern.

“I’m just- what about your parents?” You ask worriedly. He gives you a soft smile, pulling you into his chest.

“I will deal with their wrath, don’t fret baby.” He says, placing a kiss on your head.

“I promise I’ll be there with you every second of the conversation-.” You start promising, but his bitter chuckling stops you.

“You shouldn’t be there for that y/n. Merlin only knows what would happen.” He sighs.

“Which is exactly why I should be there Draco.” You groan, pouting your lips up at him. He shakes his head, sighing a bit more.

“Who cares what they think anyway? It’s our choice not theirs.” He complains and you nod firmly in agreement.

You wrap your arms around his torso, squeezing him for dear life.

“You’re too good to me.” You murmur into his chest.

He takes a second to hug back, his shock at the sudden show of affection evident in the way his body tenses up.

As he relaxes into your touch, a faint smile comes to his lips. “And you’re too good for me darling.” He whispers, his face one of sadness and regret.

The two of you stand like that, in each other’s embrace, for what feels like an eternity, caring far too much for each other to ever truly let go.

[tantei-chan-4869]

Chapter 2: Shinichi is Back?!?

Last Chapter..........

"You must've have guessed. Of course, for a brilliant detective like you, I have nowhere to hide. Yes. It is I, the Moonlight Phantom. Kaitou KID." Slowly, a smug begin to form on his face as he put his poker face on. "Looks like we'll have a lot to talk about tonight~" he said seductively as he slowly approached the unguarded detective. She slowly backed away, her heart beating wildly. She was fearful. What does he wanted do to her?

As his steps echoed closer, Shinichi shut her eyes in despair. "Help me..... someone. Anyone. Help me....."

--------------------------------------------------

Suddenly, the panicked detective felt something cold and metallic against her forehead. Immediately, her face paled from nervousness.

"Oh? Who would've thought the detective who had fired a bullet on me a year ago would've been in the same situation." Kaito's voice can be heard, very close in her ear as Shinichi stood frozen in fear. Is this it? Must her life as Shinichi be so short?

With the sound of trigger being heard echoing across the empty alleyway, signaling that the gun had been fired. Shinichi strangely didn't feel any pain. Strange, she thought. The death must've been quite an easy one. But by the time she opened her eyes, she was perfectly fine. Alive and well. No blood gushing out of her forehead and was staring into the indigo eyes of a certain thief.

The detective gasped and immediately was alert and on guard. However Kaito was quite pleased with himself.

"I wasn't going to do anything to you. You seemed to have forgotten my rule that no blood shall be shed when I'm around Meiantei. Never think you'd be so freaked out like that. Quite amusing to mess with you~"

Shinichi glared daggers into Kaito's eyes as he whistles while twirling his card gun around his finger. Frustrated, the detective turned on her heel and stormed off, leaving Kaito behind to catch up.

"Oi, oi Meiantei! Matte yo! (Wait up!)" Kaito called as he ran after her. "Hey, I'm sorry for pranking you like that. It's not everyday you hear the news that the kid you deal with on your heists is actually a high school detective." He chuckled. "I mean, I had guesses that you're not someone ordinary but this was too much, even for KID himself. So, will you forgive me my dearest Tantei-chan?"

But Shinichi's mind was not on Kaito at all. She was afraid that someone from BO was hiding in the dark who happened to hear everything and someday they'll rebuilt and hunt her down again. She vividly remember how her childhood best friend Mouri Ran almost died because of a mortal bullet wound to the stomach. She didn't want anymore innocent people lose their lives for her. Not even KID the master of escape himself.

"Earth to Shin-chan, are you here?" Kaito asked with a cute headtilt as he tried to get her attention. Shinichi was quite annoyed at this point. She stopped abruptly, whipped around and scolded Kaito.

"Go home. It's quite late. Besides, what's a thief doing with a detective so late at night like this? And we're both a guy and a girl. Do you think it's normal for someone to still be friendly after they found out the person had been their rivals the entire time? I don't think so! I regretted meeting you in the park. In fact, I wish I never ran into you in the first place!"

The last of the sentence was shouted out. Each words she said was a dagger being driven into Kaito's heart, wounding him. Sure. He could shrug it off with his poker face, but he would rather not do that in front of his favorite critique. He only listened with silence as his Meiantei lets out her anger on him. Shinichi however, was displeased. "Don't just stand there. Say something for yourself Kuroba Kaito. Why do you steal? Why do you live under the alias 'Kaitou KID'? What are you trying to hide?"

"When I was young...." Kaito hesitated but decided to continue. "My dad died in an accident while performing magic. I always thought his death was not normal, so I decided to look into it. Let's just say..... He was involved with a group of shady men. They were trying to find this jewel called 'Pandora'. It's said to be able to grant anyone's wish for immortality. My dad didn't want that to happen so he took up the job of stealing, hoping to find the jewel before them and to destroy it before they found it. Apparently, the men found out my dad's identity and..... Murdered him. However, I still believe that my dad is still alive. And..... I want to complete what he started. So yeah. Basically why I took up stealing."

There was a hint of sadness in Kaito's voice, as Shinichi noticed. For a minute, she didn't know what to say. The feeling of having to keep 2 identities was too similar and painful to not acknowledge. For a minute, she felt bad for Kaito.

" I...... I'm sorry Kuroba- I mean, Kaito." She apologized. " I just want to let you know, I understand and I'm here for you. Now I understand you're now really stealing. Sorry for misunderstanding you..... "

Kaito only gave the detective a wry smile. "I'm used to being misunderstood. It's nothing new for me. However, like you said, it is getting quite late. I should probably head home anyways. See you next illusion Meiantei."

He turned and was about to go until Shinichi's voice stopped him. "I- I mean, you can stay over for the night if..... If you want. It's not safe to walk alone on the streets so late like this anyways....."

The said thief looked back to see a quite flustered Shinichi offering him hospitality while trying not to sound too awkward. He had to smile, seeing his favorite detective in such a situation. It's quite cute, he thought to himself.

"Are you sure? Who said a guy and a girl can't be alone together? Definitely not me~" he teased while walking back to her. Which flustered the poor detective more as she blushed pink. "You don't have to take up the offer if you're not interested." She pouted as she proceeded to head over to her house's direction. Kaito only grinned as he followed after her.

Once inside the manor, Kaito couldn't help but marvel how big the place was. He whistled as to see how many compartments this house had. "You've been living in here growing up? Sheesh, your parents are filthy rich Shin-chan." He commented as he stood in front of a framed artwork to examine it.

"Eh, it's nothing if your mom is a popular retired actress and your dad is a world renowned novel writer." Shinichi shrugged as she proceeded to hang up her jacket, glove, and scarf on the hanger at the entrance of the house. "Can I get you something? I'm guessing you want both something to eat and something to drink?" She asked as she proceeded into the kitchen. "Just a heads-up, I don't cook a lot. My childhood best friend comes over and cook once in a while for me. But my cooking isn't good so bear with me." She explained as she tied an apron around her waist only for it to be untied by Kaito.

"Oi what are you-" Shinichi was about to protest until Kaito shushed her. "Let me handle it. I usually live alone and I've had to learn to cook quite a few dishes by myself. Don't worry, won't burn your house down if that's what you're worried about." Kaito winked at her, earning a flustered stutter from her.

"No I'm not worried about that- it's just- well, I can't make a guest cook-" She chased after Kaito, trying to get the apron back from him. But Kaito only dodged her.

"Aw, and here I thought you were going to worry about me. How cruel are you Meiantei~ my heart is in pain~~" Kaito teased her in a playful manner. Poor Shinichi was quite red at this point to the point where she seemed like she was going to pass out. Laughing, Kaito was quite pleased with his doing before he waltzed around the room getting ingredients out.

Soon, the Kudo manor was filled with the delicious aroma of something cooking. Shinichi, who was reading a Sherlock Holmes book in the library sniffed the air and immediately felt drolls in her mouth. The female detective followed the smell into the kitchen to see a beaming Kaito coming towards her with plates of food in his hands. Shinichi was quite impressed. "W-we had that many food materials in the house-?" Her gaze followed the plate of food as Kaito moved about the room setting the table.

"Of course. You had quite a lot of left overs that can be made into a table of feast. It's just up to your creativity." Kaito hummed as he set some utensils on the table. "Well, don't just stand over there Tantei-chan." Kaito waved. "Come and have a taste!"

The two enjoyed a quite filling meal. After Kaito had cleared take, Shinichi pushed back her chair quite contently. Kaito only sat across from her with a triumphant smug. The detective only rolled her eyes playfully at him before smiling. His cooking had definitely captured her stomach.

"So, what now?" Kaito asked as he folded his hands together. Shinichi noticed how slender and well-cared for they looked. "Well, I suppose perhaps I should help you on your heists." Shinichi replied as she looked at her nails rather casually while waiting to get a reaction from him.

True to her prediction, Kaito almost fell off of the chair he was sitting on. "Seriously? Meiantei is going to help me-?" He asked in disbelief as he tried to process what Shinichi was telling him.

"Yep." She replied simply. "Your dad was somewhat of a sensei to my mom who taught her how to disguise. So in a way, my family owe you one."

Kaito gave Shinichi a genuine smile. He never thought that this day would come. Who knows your rival would suddenly just stop being your rival and actually side with you?

Shinichi, had a knowing look as she stared at Kaito's idioticly hopeful face, decided to wake him up from his daydreams. "However, we'll still be somewhat of a rival." She smiled mysteriously as Kaito pouted.

"B-but why?" Kaito whined. The smug high school detective mused at how cute he looked. "Well, it wouldn't be fun for me if I can't triumphantly take you down myself, would it?" She smirked. "Isn't it your job to entertain your audience, Mr. Magician?"

Kaito huffed and pouted. Shinichi only laughed it off. "I'm off to bed. You can sleep in my parents' room if you want. I got you a pair of my dad's sleeping wear ready and laid on the bed for you." Then she paused and turned to look at Kaito dead in the eyes. "Do. Not. Try. Anything. Funny. While. I'm. Sleeping. Do you understand?"

The said magician just raised up his hands in surrender. "Never planned to do anything anyways. Please Tantei-chan, I'm not that perverted to the point of not having any self respect. Unless...... " Then, Kaito lowered his voice into a quite deep and seductive tone. "You want me to snuggle next to you while you're asleep~"

"Ew you pervert!" Came Shinichi's flustered voice followed by a slipper flying to his way, to which Kaito easily dodged. He laughed at how easily she reacted to his playful jokes and went to get ready for the night.

Early the next morning, a loud and rapid rapping could be heard outside of the Kudo manor followed by a voice that Shinichi couldn't be more familiar with. "Shinichi! Shinichi are you back? I'm coming in!"

"Hang on I'm coming!" The high school detective jumped out of bed with a messy bedhead rushed to the door, almost knocking over a very confused Kaito who was also not very pleased about his morning sleep being interrupted. He followed Shinichi to the front door to see her childhood best friend Mouri Ran, who was, staring daggers into Kaito's soul as he came face to face with the karate champion.

"Yo, good morning." Kaito yawned and waved.

"Kudo Shinichi, could you explain the meaning of this-?" Ran growled through his gritted teeth.

"Oh crap-" came Shinichi's reply. She's as good as dead.

-----------------------------------------------

Author's Note.........

Oh no! What will happen to Shin-chan!? Sounds like a love triangle/secret crushes compilation! I hope you guys stick around long enough to find out because cliffhangers will be a thing in my fan fics 👀

[anothermcytblog]

do not ask why i made this but here is the entire transcript of “Wilbur talking about eating Sand for 14 minutes...” I wrote in two hours for no reason other then boredom.

Phil, farming sand in minecraft: -it is similar to how the 0 tick farms work where it pushes pistons underneath and on top. 

Wilbur, donating with Text To Speech: Phil have you ever eaten sand? 

Phil, laughing: No. I don't think I have. I might have when I was a kid I guess. Why Wilbur? Whas- wuah wuh wuh What is this? 

TTS Wilbur: Could eat the sand. 

Phil, silent for a second: 

Phil: I could the...

Phil: 

Phil: I could? 

TTS Wilbur: Might be faster. 

Phil, laughing again: Inhaled sand. Okay. Into my body, then what? I need to place it dude, what do you mean? I'm just gonna shit out bricks. I'm just gonna shit out- I'm just gonna shit out sandstone is that it? 

TTS Wilbur: Then you put sand somewhere better. 

Phil, wheezily chuckling: Wil I have- I have actually no idea where you are going with this. I'm legit just as confused as some people in chat. I don't- *laughing* 

TTS Wilbur: Well if the sand is somewhere better then it's not in your way anymore. 

Phil: You okay WIl? You alright mate? We were playing Civ for a long time last night. Are you okay mate? You’re not gonna start worrying me are you? We’re pretty close to each other. 

TTS Wilbur: Yeah I’m fine. If you eat the sand and move it then you won’t have to keep shoveling it. 

Phil, sighing like a disappointed dad: Brilliant. Chat I don’t know he’s gone off the- he’s gone off *gasp* Oh my fucking god dude he was so quiet. That is a threat they make no noise when they’re on lava. Jesus. I was like “What’s hit me!?” It was like a single hit that made me think it was a player or something cause it was silent. I was just like- there was no noise. Okay dually noted, magma cubes don’t make any noise on lava. 

TTS Wilbur: Magma cubes are boring Phil. Let’s talk about eating sand again. 

Phil, laughing: Wil have you- have you ate sand is this what you are talking about *hears a ghast* fucking hell. 

TTS Wilbur: Yes I have. 

Phil, softly: What is this conversation… *Normal tone* Was it nice? 

TTS Wilbur: It gets between your teeth and is fun to crunch in the car ride home. 

[ Phil, grossed out and letting out various forms of Nope and nooo in funny tones of voice ]

Phil: Ooohhh that was a horrible vision. That was a horrible visual. You had a strange childhood Wilbur I’m just gonna say it wasn’t my fault though. *Laughing* Did you just pocket sand and start going- *mimickings eating sand* 

TTS Wilbur: Then when I get home I put it in my mouse. I successfully move the sand. 

[ Phil sighs disappointedly ] 

Phil: Chat I don’t know what we’re going to do with Wil. 

TTS Wilbur: I would sometimes put it in my pockets too yes. 

Phil: I don’t know what we’re going to do with Wil he’s a lost cause chat. Genuinely worried for my dude. It’s not five head. 

TTS Wilbur: This wasn’t in my childhood, Phil. 

[ Phil is silent in disappointed dad™ for a solid like, seven seconds]

Phil: Wil when I come to visit you, uhhh, later this year we’re going to have talks about this. We’re going to have talks, son.

TTS Wilbur: Why? 

Phil: Stop eating sand son. *Laughing* It’s not good for you. 

TTS Wilbur: What’s in it that’s bad for me? 

Phil: It is literal rocks! *Sighing* Oohh I can’t. Chattt. Tell him pleaaase. 

TTS Wilbur: So is salt. 

Phil: Oooohhh I knew he was gonna pull some weird sh- I fucking knew- *chuckling* Not the same dude. *Laughing* Not edible. Please he does not have a point do not give him any sort of leeway here chat. 

TTS Wilbur: Please enlighten me on what makes salt edible and sand inedible. 

[ Phil is silent in disappointed dad™ part 2 electric boogalo]

A TTS Donation: Human biology college major here. I do not recommend eating sand. 

Phil, cackling: Ohh… god. 

TTS Wilbur: Why not? 

Phil: Wil does sand- does sand dissolve in water Wil? I don’t think it does, does it? 

TTS Wilbur: Any further questions? Or have I persuaded you? 

[ Phil Laughs ]

A different TTS Donation: Now I know why Wilbur’s humor is so dry. It’s from all the sand he’s been eating.

Phil, losing his mind laughing: Ohhhh- *cackles* Nice Trixtin.  

TTS Wilbur: So we’re relying that sand isn’t contaminated with dog piss or something. Sand physically can not harm you if you eat it. It’s fun to chew like chewing blades of grass in fields. A simple pastime. No nutritional value like salt. 

[ Phil is silent in disappointed dad™ part 3: Batman returns ]

Phil: A simp-

[ Notification that Niachu is raiding ]

Phil, laughing and losing his mind: I didn’t even get to finish my sentence I just said “A simp” and then Niachu shows up with a raid. Niachu get your man, he’s fucking being weird. Thank you so much for the raid. *Laughing*

A different TTS Donation: Chewing sand is basically inviting fiberglass into your system. 

Phil: Yes- uh Nikki, Wil is boasting about eating sand and saying that there is nothing wrong with it. 

TTS Wilbur: I invite fiberglass into my system. Formally. 

[ Phil is silent in disappointed dad™ part 4: This time it’s personal ]

Phil: He’s lost dude. Oh nooo *chuckles*  

TTS Wilbur: My teeth grow perpetually like a hamster. Akin to a hamster I must chew sand so the teeth don’t puncture my skull and kill me. 

Phil, laughing: WHAT?! Bro you’re on some fucking shit what the fuck am I hearing? 

TTS Wilbur: It’s quite similar to the taste of pretzels. 

Phil, sighing but trying not to laugh: You need to stop- You need to stop conca- *wheezing* You need to stop comparing sand to food. He has infinite text to speech chat. I’m giving- I’m applying- I’m giving him a platform of 5.8 thousand. Dude, dangerous information he is spreading. This is the thing right chat? This is not- This is not Wil on any sort of drug at all- this is Wils natural state. Sometimes he just does this. 

TTS Wilbur: Chat. Say 1 if you’re gonna go and try some sand now. Say 2 if you aren’t and also hate anyone who looks different to you. 

Phil: Ohh my god you did not just- just rig the vote dude. You just fucking rigged the vote. *Laughing* Wil, do you just want to get on a call and discuss this? 

Phil, presumably after calling Wilbur on discord: Explain yourself. 

Phil, after a moment of silence: Guys he’s silent I’m scared. *laughing*

TTS Wilbur: Oh fuck wait. 

[ Phil, losing his mind ]

Wilbur, now on call and verbally talking: No I’d like to know- I’d like to- I’d like to genuinely know what’s wrong with what I’m saying. 

Phil: What is wrong with eating sand? 

Wilbur: Yeah. 

Phil: Bro it’s sand.

Wilbur: Well actually I’m not saying chewing- I’m not actually swallowing the sand I’m pretty sure. Might be a couple you know? Might be doin’ a couple of swallows… but. 

[ Phil laughs but in the disappointed dad kind of way ] 

Wilbur: Like you know you chew plastic pen caps. Probably something wrong about that but no one gets angry at you for doing that. As long as the sand is clean I don’t see anything wrong with chewing on some sand. Maybe you’ll swallow some as well you know it’s not- it’s not my business. 

Phil: It’s gonna ffffuck up your teeth what do you mean? 

Wilbur: What do you mean fuck up- so is chewing pen lids. 

Phil: That is nothing compared to sand!

Wilbur: Have you ever had a pretzel, Phil? 

Phil, laughing: Shut the fuck up. Yes. 

Wilbur: Nonono listen, yeah so you know- have you ever bitten the salt off of the pretzel? Have you ever done that?

Phil: Not really no. 

Wilbur: Oh. Well you can do that. Would that fuck up your teeth do you think? 

Phil, a little confused: No I don’t think it woullld. Unless… 

Wilbur: No it’s quite the same consistency as sand.

Phil: Is it thoughhhh…? Is it though? It’s sodium. 

Wilbur: As someone who- As someone who eats sand I’d say it is quite consistent- 

Phil, laughing: Shut up! Stop saying sand is okay to eat please. 

Wilbur: It’s fine to eat- literally I’ll google it. I’ve never had to google it because it’s just so intrinzic in my knowledge that is is okay to eat. 

[ Phil is silent in disappointed dad™ part 5: who raised this man? ]

Wilbur: Goodness! I didn’t realize this was an actual question. I’m obviously just so shocked that one would wonder because it’s so obviously is okay. “So I am curious, under what category does a sand cuisine fall under and why does the fascination-” This person is just being rude, I’m going to skip them. 

Phil, wheezing a little and lightly mocking Wilbur: “I’m going to skip people who don’t agree with me.” 

Wilbur: Uh this person- nonono I’m going to read out this person- This person says “At least not in a good way. It contains quartz which is harmful for your tooth enamel and over time it may harm your teeth although I know of many food recipes which consain- contain sand. There is not much problem for your gut unless you eat to much of it of course.” So basically it’s the quartz that is bad for your tooth enamel but the problem is I don’t have tooth enamel. I- I gave it up for Lentso I’m perfectly fine. 

Phil: What are you talking about? What are- *Laughing* What are you-? Wait hold up go back a sec. 

Wilbur: Yeah? I mean I don’t- I don’t know what recipes include sand but I’d love to try some. 

Phil: Go back to what you just said before. 

Wilbur: What, I gave it up for lent? Why are you laughing? 

Phil, mumbling a little: I don’t… 

Wilbur: Okay around the time of easter uhhh Christan people are supposed to give up something that means a lot to them that’s called lent.

Phil: And you gave up your enamel?  

Wilbur: Well it means a lot to me.

Phil: You can’t give up your enamel. 

Wilbur:  Wilbur: Wh- Well what have I been doing? 

Phil, laughing a little: I don’t know what you’ve been doing. That’s like saying “I gave up my bones for lent.” 

Wilbur: I think- I think we’re going off track here. The point is sand is perfectly fine to eat and that- that the quartz in it that damages your teeth I’m sure- I’m sure you guys can do fine without it. 

Phil: I think we’re going to have to agree to disagree here. I- 

Wilbur: That’s fine I’m not- I’m not saying you should enjoy eating it I’m just you should be happy with me eating it- I mean there is a lot of prejudice in this chat. 

Phil: O-ohh… I should respect your choices to eat sand and damage your teeth?  

Wilbur: Yeah. I know you’re saying that sarcastically but you really should. You should think about this one- you knowing chewing hay? Like- Like a blade of grass if you’re walking? You must have done it, hanging out the right hand side of your mouth. Maybe have a bajo with you as well. 

Phil, laughing: I think- I agree with Trixtion, “Being happy with- for you is a bit much. The most you can expect is tolerance.” 

Wilbur: That’s fine. Do you tolerate me eating sand Phil? 

Phil: Where are you getting sand from to begin with now that I think about it. You live- you live in Londen there’s just- fucking tems dude. 

Wilbur: Any convenient store, construction sites-

Phil: Ooooookay. 

Wilbur: Hour glasses-

Phil: OOOOhhh okay. 

Wilbur: Fish tanks- 

Phil, laughing: Nooooo- stop what you are doing right now. 

Wilbur: Crematoriums-

Phil: Bruhhhhhhh- *Cackling* This conversation is over. 

Wilbur: Okay, bye bye phil. 

Phil, wheezing: You know sometimes I don’t know what I expect from Wil when he’s in one of these moods- uhhh- I was not expecting that though. 

TTS Wilbur: Phil call me back. I have something important to tell you.

Phil, now on call again with Wilbur: Hey mate. 

Wilbur: So um, uh, on my minecraft did you know that concrete is made out of sand- and glass, a lot of glass is made out of sand. There is only certain kind of sand you can use for making concrete and glass right? And the thing is we’re actually uh, having a little bit of shortatage in the sand you can use to make concrete and glass so uh, due to that you can’t just use it just from like, like the desert you have to take it from like, the beach. Um, so what- there is a sand mafia that exists. 

Phil, losing his mind: Shuttt- I hung up on him- I fucking hung up on him. 

TTS Wilbur: Phil I wasn’t finished I think you hung up my accident. 

TTS Wilbur: Phil I’m going to need you to call me back. Phil, on call again with Wilbur: So there’s an actual sand mafia, you fucking-

Wilbur: Yeah yeah it’s apart of a resource depletion uh, sand is having an extreme amount of resource depletion compared to a lot of things in the world, there is a serious lack of sand- let me send you some sources of what I’m talking about here. This is national geographic and this is uh-

Phil, after a cut: I thought you were fucking with me. 

Wilbur: I am not fucking with you Phil. 

Phil, laughing: What the fuck is this? 

Wilbur: So basically the reason we need to mine so much sand is that we need to extract certain elements like titanium and zirconium. Their mineral, uh, is usually found in sand deposits due to pressure and, um, erosion. So it’s really important that you can uh- that that amount is kept under control and there is a lot of money in the sand business and where there is a lot of money there is- theres a short amount of supply, you know, you find organized crime and that’s why we have the sand mafia. I’m not going to say my eating of sand is contributing to the resource depletion because that would be uh- that would be- what’s the word… irresponsible of me but-

Phil: Mhm? 

Wilbur: I’m just saying if you wanna get into trying sand, it’s sooner rather than later. 

[ Phil cackles]

Wilbur: You think- I’m really not- I haven’t spoken a single lie this entire stream. I’ve just been talking the truth and everyone has been getting angry at me. I feel like- I feel like Jesus Christ right now Phil. 

Phil, laughing: Ohhhh-Kay alright. 

Wilbur, now sounding like he’s trying not to smile: I’ve been preaching nothing but the good word

Phil, still dying: Shut- 

Wilbur, very close to smiling: And you’re trying to crucify me. Phil: Shut- Shhhhhhhhhhhhshh. 

Wilbur, almost laughing: You’re tryna hang me on a cross, Phil. Just like the romans, dude. 

Phil: Was this the payoff? Was this the fucking- *Wheeze*

Wilbur, now back to a more calm tone: You’re tryna crucify me. You’re tryna kill Sand Jesus. 

Phil: Okay- 

Wilbur: It’s not a joke. 

Phil, laughing: I can literally hear the smile in your voice. 

Wilbur: I’m not smiling, I’ll turn on my webcam for you Phil. 

Phil, looking at Wilbur off screen: Jesus that’s horrifying. What is this- what is this angle? Oh I saw- *Laughing.*

[ Wilbur starts laughing as well ]

[ Both of them lose it ]

Phil: Oh my god I tipped over my water. I saw it- Okay okay- I’m gonna hang up. He cracked chat he cracked. Ohh fuck. *Wheezing*

[commanderserwin]

can u do a blind date imagine with Erwin or Levi?

❯ characters. erwin smith x reader

❯ notes. i chose to do this with erwin b/c it’s missing him hours, so i hope that is okay! thank you so much! i hope you like it! (◕ ◡ ◕)

blind date.

It was done over a drunken agreement. Drunk— tons of alcohol, slurry speech, hazy thought process that when the idea popped out, Erwin was too busy nursing the throbbing headache and easily agreed to what Hange said over the glasses of alcohol. It was a wise choice at the time because all he needed was a quieter time and away from the persistent pushing of Hange over a date.

It gave him the chills, the closed throat, the dried mouth because the day is going by behind him from the ways the sunlight ticked to let him know that the time is coming. He has a date that he agreed to and he regrets agreeing to it. Erwin tried to bury the idea of that date deep down, with the notion of rereading every report, picking it up again, and doing it all over again— just to pass time and make it seem like he lost track of time. But, he can't keep reading the same damned sentence or else, he would go crazy because by the nth time he has reread it, he has already got it memorized.

Erwin looked up at the door, breathing in relief because somebody has come to knock on his door to get his boredom away from him. Still, his hope dropped to the floor because it was Hange who came for him.

"Are you ready for the date?"

Hange smiled the widest but it all dropped in a second when Erwin looked down at his papers, tapping on it.

"As you can see, I am busy," Erwin smiled sympathetically, the corners of lips going down while Hange only cocked their head to the side.

"Nobody has entered your office in hours, what must you be so busy with?"

Erwin pursed his lips, tapping his foot nervously, caught in the middle to continue his lie or to just hope that if he looks away, Hange will go away— but Hange came to stay.

"It's a date! Mingle with others!"

"I'm the Commander of Survey Corps," Erwin boomed, his chest tightening at how unfazed Hange is before him that his voice went a little quieter, "I have plans to remedy, strategies to think of, and whole branch of soldiers to keep an eye on. I am busy. I don't have time to mingle with others."

Erwin tapped his fingers on the table, clearing his throat every now and then as the waitress passes by his table with a smile. He has shook his head numerous times, looking at the door for a specific someone to come and enter based on Hange's descriptions. He tapped his fingers endlessly, practicing his words in his mind over of what to say. He doesn't know why, but it's making him breathe a little harder over the thought of going on a date with someone he doesn't even know.

Now, he's started to think that his clothes were a little shabby for the picked restaurant— and he has no idea on why he has chosen to wear an old white long sleeves, "Excuse me?"

The waitress walked by, tapping on the tray as she smiled, "Ready to order?"

"No, no," Erwin shook his head, pushing his chair from the table, "Is there a bathroom I could use? Maybe keep this table reserved?"

"Of course," she nodded, pointing to the back door, "Bathroom's at the back."

He hurriedly went his way to the back, muttering some nonsense to himself until he has reached the door. He knocked on the door, hoping for the quick sense of a hideout-- away from the stares and the heavy feeling that someone is relying or is waiting for him, but he just couldn't.

"Occupied!"

Erwin nibbled on his lip, nodding more to himself than to lamely acknowledge the person behind the door as he waited for his chance to hide. He fought himself to not look back at his table, and when he failed to do so, Erwin let out the biggest sigh once he saw that nobody new was there and nobody took his table. The person from the bathroom still hasn’t gone yet, so he settled on the wall in front of the door, crossing his arms as he tapped his foot in wonder and hurry. Erwin sighed again, loudly, looking down.

"Was I that long in that long in the bathroom?”

The tall blonde man almost leaped off of the wall, shaking his hands while you watch his mouth close and open in an attempt to calm the fake scowl on your face. You just got out of a five minute pep-talk for this date, and you would have stayed in longer in the bathroom if it wasn’t for him. But because of him, you have unleashed a new found source of strength and worry to actually just face the date Hange has set up for you.

What has he like? Hange basically told you that, ‘He’s tall, and blonde. Thick eyebrows, blue eyes, tall. Can’t miss him.”

And a check on everything as you assessed the man before you. A furrow has started between your brows as you fiddled with your fingers, heart beating so fast that you almost croaked out. But he quickly caught up on it— like Hange’s voice echoing in his ears, he calmly pointed at you, a gentle smile forming on his face.

“Are you...”

Erwin counted the things Hange has told him to look for his date— and he’s checking every little box that perfectly described you.

“Are you?” You asked, peeping behind his shoulder to get a glimpse of the restaurant. “Do you know Hange?”

“I know Hange,” he answered, adjusting his collar. He tried to smile but he knows it’s all turning into shit while you furrowed your brows deeper. He exhaled loudly, “Erwin-,”

“Smith,” you continued, offering a hand. His calloused hand shook yours— leaving the feeling of warmth on your hand while he genuinely smiled. “Commander?”

Commander.

Erwin couldn’t fight the smile now on his lips while you suppressed yours in a failed attempt, as he nodded. “Survey Corps.”

“Right,” you murmured, looking up at him. Your hands started to feel clammy just by looking at him, and your breath hitched when he asked the question. The question you had hoped not to be asked when seen by your date by the bathroom. Were you hiding? Were you churning up a plan to swiftly leave?

“Were you hiding from me?” Erwin asked lowly, bending down slightly while you nibbled on your lower lip.

But you cocked your head to the side, tapping on his shoulder, “Should I ask you the same thing?”

“So, you were hiding!”

“I was weighing out my choices of staying or leaving,” you explained, moving to lean beside him against the wall, and away from the people. “I couldn’t help it! It’s been a while since I’ve been on a date.”

“I was going to use the bathroom,” Erwin said slowly, as if trying not to catch him hear the lie in his own words— but you only shook your head in response. “To fix my shirt... this is still all new to me.”

“Hange told me that you might not even come,” you explained, watching Erwin and the pink tinge on his cheeks blossomed gently, “Am I right then?”

“If we are being honest...”

Erwin was nervous to look at you, but it lifted right off of him when you laughed at his face, nodding at him while you pointed at yourself, “That makes the both of us then.”

Erwin bit on his lip, looking down fondly, “If you must know, I’m quite thankful that I did come here.”

“Me too,” You looked up, meeting his blue eyes— and he held that stare for a few seconds before looking away, giving you some time to straighten yourself up or else you would be drowning in his eyes, right there and then.

Erwin sighed shakily, looking back at you as he pointed to table. “Let me take you to dinner.”

“I thought you were going to use the bathroom?” You mumbled, wiping down at the creases of your clothes as Erwin looked back at the door. “Your shirt?”

“It’s fine,” Erwin said, already walking back to table but he stopped when you called out to him.

“No, wait!” You padded towards him, hands clammy as Erwin raised his brow while you pointed at his collar. His hands immediately found his collar, ready to fix whatever it was but your hands were faster than his. “Missed a button right there, Erwin.”

It was the sudden spark of the brushing of your fingers that made him blush softly, feeling the heat rise from his chest to his ears while he smiled to himself because he noticed the slight tinge on your cheeks, the nervous fingers that were on his shirt, and the new found confidence while Erwin whispered softly, “Shall we do this more often?”

[cupcakemolotov]

New York, New York

So I finally finished a thing, and its not what I thought I was going to wrap up first but that is life! It is completely SFW, and very much “Canon, what Canon?” And its been more years than I willing to admin since I applied for colleges, I just glossed over those details. :)

Also, formatting, why are you like this.

-

Caroline rolled her eyes. “Bon. I don’t want to say I told you so but…”

The groan was loud in her ear. “I know, I know. But who would have thought it would be this bad?”

“Me. I thought it would be that bad,” Caroline said with a laugh. “And then I told you about it so you could avoid it. And then you didn’t.”

Bonnie muttered something so low, even Caroline’s vampire gearing couldn’t quite catch it. “Well, we're going to put down rules. As I’ve already told Elena, I might not be a vampire but I have a perfectly good set of ears and there are some things I do not need to hear.” Bonnie huffed out the last sentence. “And I refuse to have to spell my own bedroom to sleep.”

Caroline bit down on the side of her tongue to keep from commenting, knowing it would do little good. Somehow Damon and Bonnie had become friends, and while she would never understand it, she and Bonnie had come to an agreement. Caroline wouldn’t be automatically negative about Damon as long as Bonnie managed to do the same for some of Caroline’s friendships. 

It was a work in progress. 

“Well, if you need some breathing space, you are welcome to come hang out with me for a weekend. I’ve been melting my credit card, and I might as well use those points for something instead of shoes.” She glanced towards her bedroom and grudgingly admitted the next sentence. “I really don’t have the closet space for more shoes.”

Bonnie seemed to consider that. “Shoe collection aside, it can’t be that small…”

Caroline laughed. The apartment was a small one bedroom and technically outside of her budget, her dad’s insurance money only went so far, but she hadn’t felt a lot of guilt over her teeny tiny use of compulsion. Not when the renting market was so high and her textbooks were so expensive. And while hardly microscopic, her bed barely fit into the space designated as her bedroom. She did have walls that separate her bedroom from their living room, her couch, TV, and small table were tucked pretty close to her tiny kitchenette. The big selling point had been the claw-foot bathtub. She’d given up having a real shower, the  shower-head had been rigged above the tub and the shower curtain she’d bought was super cute but if she’d still been human the breeziness of the space would have been murder. Overall, the space she had carved out for herself was cute but cramped. 

And she wouldn’t change it for the world.

“It really can be. You should have seen Mom’s face when she agreed to co-sign, which is another really weird thing about this city. My credit check was stellar, I had the cash for the down payments and still they wanted a co-sign, but whatever. The good news is my obsession with HGTV has taught me plenty about hiding organizers, and thankfully, I don’t really need the kitchen.” She wrinkled her nose and looked down. “Though carpet is new but seriously ugly, so I am going to have to invest in a rug, I think.”

“The lack of needing a kitchen thing is kind of ideal for New York, but I personally am going to miss your stress brownies, though my hips wont,” Bonnie said with a sigh. “And your note taking. I already miss you in Physical Science, and why are Gen Eds so terrible?”

Caroline rolled her eyes. “It cannot be that bad.”

“Says you,” Bonnie retorted. “And anyway, Elena just stuck her head in to remind me that I promised to go to some Freshman Orientation event, so I guess I gotta go. Stay out of trouble, will you?”

“You first,” Caroline retorted. Bonnie laughed and disconnected the call. For a moment, she held onto her phone before sighing and setting it on the coffee table and flopping onto her couch. If she closed her eyes and listened she could hear everyone in her apartment building, which was something she hadn’t really thought about when deciding on an apartment.

Not that she’d had much time to figure things out. Weeks instead of months, but Forbes women were nothing but resourceful. And very, very determined.

Caroline just hadn’t expected her mom to get stubborn about her college experience. She’d expected Liz to be fine with Caroline going to Whitemore and sticking close to home, and it’s been a shock when things had gone sideways. When Caroline had marked down NYU on her SAT application form, it’d been on a whim. She’d been required to pick three schools and some part of her just couldn’t stick to the local community colleges. 

And later, when her counselor had handed her the application packets, she’d stared at them for hours, considering. She had never thought she’d get in or that she’d get enough of a scholarship that living in the city would be manageable if she was careful. Very, very careful with a bit of compulsion thrown in at least. She’s considered it for all of thirty seconds before tucking the acceptance letter away. 

There was just too much going on that she could walk away. Even with the Originals packing up and moving on, there was still her mom to worry about. One of the perks of being a vampire was that she could always pick up those dreams later. 

Her mom had disagreed. Loudly. It’s taken three days before Caroline has finally cracked, and admitted why she had refused. And she’d learned a lot about her mom that morning that she hadn’t expected, and hadn’t had much time to contemplate with the scramble of getting into NYU. Her mom hadn’t even argued when Caroline had dragged her to NYC to check things out and to smooth over the issues her late application had caused. 

Compulsion really was quite handy if she was careful with it. But more importantly, NYU was totally close enough that if she had to she could get on a plane for an emergency, but her mom, in a bit of underhanded maneuvering that Caroline had admired, had made a very specific list of what could be considered an emergency. And then she’d invited Elena and Bonnie over for dinner, and her mom had also explained it to them too. It’d been weird to have someone else fight that battle, but good. 

Above her, something crashed and there was muted swearing and Caroline sighed heavily. She was really going to have to make a point to stay well fed. Going on a rampage because Courtney in 4A couldn’t keep her dog from yapping at all hours of the night was not ideal. She had been prepared to listen to her neighbors have noisy sex, well, at least until she could get Bonnie here to do some proper spell work, but the rest of it was a learning curve. So far, eating had been going okay. 

She’d been getting tips. 

And boy, would her friends freak out as soon as they learned who she’d been texting. But Caroline had always considered herself pragmatic, and her options had been limited. Stefan would rather light himself on fire than give her any kind of 101 Guide To Eating People Without Killing Them, and she would rather light herself on fire than talk to Damon. 

Klaus…

She blew out a breath. Klaus was her friend, even if her graduation ceremony had made his position on… things… perfectly clear. But weirdly, she’d found his words strangely boundary defining and a relief. Last love was definitely not now, not anytime soon in fact, and his acknowledgement of that had eased the knot she always seemed to carry around in her chest. And so when she stood in the middle of the hustle and bustle of more people than she could remember really seeing in one place, like ever, she’d let herself text a number she’d refused to admit to anyone she had memorized ages ago. 

And he had responded. 

And Klaus had kept replying, no matter when she sent him a question. In between organizing her life and schedule, he’d been extremely helpful without any sort of judgement. If anything, he seemed more resigned to her lack of knowledge than anything else, providing her with Vampire Basics she’d never thought to ask Damon or Stefan about, and the knowledge had helped. Accepting the monster under her skin was not something that was going to be easy, but Klaus providing actual information about the whys and the hows helped far more than she thought she’d ever tell him. 

And his faith in her control was not something she’d ever expected to need. But he’d offered it with no prompting and the truth was she made an excellent vampire. She was good at it, thrived with the challenges of it, and she thought the next few years would be good for her. And it was nice, knowing that if she screwed it up she’d have people who’d help her fix it. Even if  some of them were just  a tiny bit more dangerous than others. 

Head tipping to the ceiling, she chewed on her lip and sighed. Putting Klaus in one category had never been easy, even when he’d been firmly in the villian bucket. She didn’t doubt he would continue to refuse any easy labels, and she thought she might be okay with that. 

For now. 

Pushing to her feet, she stretched and sighed. Classes started in two days, and while she’d already organized her books and started doing some pre-class reading, there was no harm in double checking her planners and reorganizing her books. And after, maybe she’d go for a walk. Check out some of the all night places near her place to plan for future all nighters. The kind of places you’d take broke friends to for pie.

The sudden knock on the door startled her, because she hadn’t noticed any unusual footsteps. For a moment, her pulse slammed in her ears as she recognized the slow thump of a dead heartbeat. A familiar barely their heartbeat that promised something old was outside her door, and one that should not be in New York City. Reaching for the phone she tossed on her coffee table she picked it up and typed out a quick text. No point in guessing who was there; not when it was pretty easy to check without moving any closer to the door. 

Caroline [8:30pm]: Seriously, tell me you are not standing outside my apartment. Like, right this second. 

A soft vibration, a low noise of amusement was all the confirmation she needed and Caroline stomped towards the door and yanked it open. “Are you serious right now? How do you even know where I live? I didn’t tell you that.”

Eyes gleaming, a hint of dimple curving in his cheek as he looked up from his phone, Klaus smiled at her. “Hello, Caroline.”

Arms crossed, she leaned against the door and huffed to cover the way her pulse skipped at the sight of him. He looked the same, same clothes and same hair, but she felt his presence with an awareness that did not bode well for her intentions of thinking of him as only a friend. Klaus had always straddled that line but here, outside of Mystic Falls, it somehow felt different. Better. And that was not something she could allow with her plans laid out in front of her. Plans that did not suit him. “Yeah yeah, hi. Why are you here?”

He slipped his phone back into his pocket, lips tugging upwards. “I was in town, and I thought I would stop by. See how you are settling in, perhaps come up with an idea for a house warming present, since it seems you will no longer need that mini-fridge, hmm?”

“In town,” she repeated, ignoring the rest of his words. “Doing what? Because I am attempting to avoid vampire shenanigans for the next four years, Klaus. I promised my mom.”

“Nothing like that,” he assured her. “Just a quick errand, and I head back to New Orleans tomorrow. I am quite invested in you having the experiences of your choice, sweetheart. No one will bother you while you are here.”

Caroline paused. “No one...  as in no one? Are you threatening people again? People I haven’t even met?”

“Not yet,” Klaus said mildly. 

She bit the tip of her tongue to stop the barrage of words that wanted to spill out. Slowly exhaling, she forced herself to let it go. There was a time and place for this discussion and she wasn’t sure right then was it, not when she was so surprised to see him, and she could hear some of her neighbors coming up the stairs. “Don’t think we won’t discuss this later but I suppose you can come in?”

“Thank you, and I don’t doubt it,” he murmured as he took her invitation and stepped into her home. His gaze swept her space and for a moment, she had to stop herself from fidgeting. This was her first space that was hers and Klaus was the only person besides her mom who had seen it. He walked slowly through her public space, and his words were sincere when he spoke. “You’ve done a lovely job with your home, love. “

For some reason, she had to fight down a blush. “Thanks. The carpet sucks though.”

He slid her a laughing glance. “An entirely fixable state of affairs.”

“You will not compel my landlord,” she warned him, exasperation almost hiding the hint of her own smile. “About carpet or anything else, Klaus.”

He made a low noise but no promises. “And how are you liking New York?”

She did smile then. “I love it. But we’ll see if that sticks when I have to deal with the snow this winter and pushy people and an overheated subway. I’ve been warned.”

His laugh was soft. “I think you’ll manage. And while it's a bit late in the evening, could I interest you in dinner? My treat.”

Caroline eyed him carefully. “Taking me to dinner will not get you out of explaining how you have my address or any potential yelling about it.”

Klaus slid his hands into his pockets and dimpled. “I would expect nothing else. But I do hope that’s not the only topic you wish to discuss tonight.”

Curious, she tipped her head. “Oh?”

He lifted a shoulder, gaze intent. “I assume you’ve picked out your classes? Have your semester organized down to the hour? And while I am certain you more than have the knack of feeding down, sweetheart, I’m happy to answer any remaining questions you have or even provide a demonstration or two.”

The idea of hunting with Klaus did something funny to her stomach, and she turned towards her room to cover it. “I’ll think about it. Give me ten minutes to change and then yes, you can take me to dinner. But not something fancy, I am not in the mood for multiple forks. But wine would be great.”

His laughter followed her into her bedroom and she shut the door. Taking a deep breath, she forced down her tangle of emotions. One night out with Klaus wouldn’t hurt anything, she reminded herself, and he was right. She did have questions, and lists, and she should probably take the opportunity to go over everything while he was here in person. Plus she’d be willing to bet he had an opinion or two he’d be willing to share about rugs. 

Squaring her shoulders, Caroline headed for her closet to slap together a friendly dinner date outfit that would be suitable even if he did take her somewhere with too many forks. But they were definitely going to be chatting about his business in the city, and how he would not be dropping by without warning whenever he wanted to.

No matter how nice it was to see him. 

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Chapstick (Lance Tucker x you)

Characters: Lance Tucker x female Reader

Summary: Y/N was in the middle of getting trained for the Olympics when her boyfriend decided to talk to her just to break up. Lance sees his trainee having a mental breakdown and he didn't hesitate to comfort her.

Warnings: A LOT of cuss words. We're talking about Lance Tucker, Tater tots. An asshole ex boyfriend. Kinda asshat, Tucker. Just kinda?

Words: 3,763

A/N: This is my first oneshot for him, I guess? I hope y'all would love it because I had fun writing him!

Disclaimer: GIF'S and pictures used are not mine. Only the edits are and the oneshot of course. 😉 Credits to the owners of the GIFS.

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME. 

"What do you mean it's not good, coach? I've did what you wanted me to do!" You huffed and panted at the same time. Chest heaving up and down as you eyed your hot coach, all prepped up with his blue, white and red uniform that he never ceases to forget to wear every damn day. He stood before you looking like a Greek god and you mentally slapped yourself for thinking about obscene things with him when you were in a relationship with your boyfriend. Plus, Lance was a total douche towards you so imagining those things could make you cringe at the thought because of his obnoxious personality that was overpowering the attraction you had for the man, mentally killing the attraction you had.

"You wobbled," Lance 'the fucker' Tucker spat as a matter of fact, squinting his eyes on your ungraceful form, probably judging you inside his head.

You rolled your eyes in discreet, he probably saw that because you do it all the time but he didn't bother acknowledging it. You marched out of the mat to go chalk your hands because it seemed to sweat a little much today. Your high bun ponytail swinging in the same time with your heavy footsteps. Here you thought your coach would stop pestering you, it turns out he never knew when to shut his filthy..gorgeous mouth of his.

"Did I tell you to fucking walk off?" Lance spat, his brows cinched together. He was acting like a pole was up in his butt, even more hot headed than the days before. He was certainly not helping your mixed emotions running inside your stupid head. "I'm this close to ripping your balls away and making you eat it alive!" You reprimanded back, teeth gritted together. The sudden power answering him back shocked you because you never did since day one. However, today seemed to be an exception. Lance was acting more of an asshole than he is and he better not make a mistake because you could turn feral when provoked.

"Do it! Fucking do it, I fucking dare you, Y/N!" He barked back, marching towards you with that fiery gaze of his. His gaze looked so sexy and hot, yet you were trying your hardest not to get affected by your raging hormones travelling inside of your head and in between your legs. You were a taken lady, have a boyfriend even. A boyfriend who appear to be distant and cold the past weeks. Your heart stopped beating when you felt Lance's hands on the sides of your arms, his fingers digging on your sides, he leaned down to be in line with your vision. It was then and there you saw how beautiful the colors of his eyes were, they were a pretty pair despite of the pissed off look he was giving you. He was being the epitome of a walking sin. "You're all talk and less action, Y/L/N. Kitty got scared?" His pretty Steele blue eyes was livid. Eyebrows all up and daring you, "I'd rather have your lips sucking my balls, wouldn't it be a waste if you would throw it away? Come on, Y/N." He clucked his tongue, cocking his head to the side as he found everything amusing, yet slightly aggravating for you. "Have a little fun while you have it,"

Lance's tasteful lips turned into a smirk, his demeanor goading you into grabbing the bait. "My nuts won't bite...unless triggered,"

Your jaw was tightly clenched, your next words coming out of your lips harshly, eyes completely trained on the piercing blue eyes of your trainer, trying hard not to back down and kiss his feet. "You sick fuck," Your nickname for him made him raise a brow, shaking his head in entertainment. "Why are you even so mad at me right now? I did nothing wrong!"

His hands began to rest on the sides of his hips, and you knew in that simple gesture meant that he switched to his coach mode, full rant about your performance with the practice was about to get jot down like bullets. "You keep doing mistakes, even have a difficult time registering the basics inside your head!" Lance licked his lips in aggravation, pointing a finger at you. "If you're goddamn distracted because of one stupid fucking lover problems, you better know to throw those pathetic distractions away while you're here! We gotta act professional, Y/N!"

An audible loud snort came out of you as you shook your head in utter disbelief. "Wow," You spat as a matter of fact, giving him a series of claps. Entirely amused by the methods of his coaching. "So much to say for yourself, Coach. Aren't you the sick fuck who was asking a twenty year old to suck his balls a while ago?"

He had back you away till your back hit a cold metal pole. Lance was eyeing you down like a lion watching his prey, never even forgetting to give you a once over because you looked completely exquisite in your leotard. "I wasn't asking," He muttered nonchalantly, popping a gum inside his filthy mouth, Mint. Definitely mint because whenever he had to talk to you up close, his minty breath was all you could ever sniff besides his spicy, macho perfume that all the itchy ladies loved. "It was a great suggestion rather than ripping my balls off alive," Lance chewed on his gum very loudly, making you more irritated by his huge ego, conceitedness and arrogance.

He was clearly even a walking asshat, you mindlessly thought over the back of your mind. Embedding that opinion inside your head over and over again.

Your staring contest was cut off when both of you heard a loud knock on a wall, letting his presence be known. Lo and behold, the boy who had forget about you for an entire week stood at the end of the gym. Looking all innocent and anxious as he stood his weight from one foot to the other. He then yelled, never looking bothered that Lance seemed to be rather much close to you and has you trapped in his presence. "May I speak to her?" Your boyfriend croaked out, sounding unattractively throaty. "It's important,"

Lance spun his heels around, his brows deeply furrowed, eyes squinted and glaring at the young man who came to see you. He looked definitely more furious than before, "What if I fucking say no?" He spoke aloud, oblivious that he raised a hand to brush his perfectly fuck boy gelled up hair. "We're practicing! Come back when she's fucking done being an uncoordinated gymnast!" He lowly snorted, only you had the advantage because you were close to your asshole of a coach. His piercing blue eyes swiftly landed on you, cocking his head to where your boyfriend was, a lopsided smile on show. "Limp dick's here to get his damsel in distress, if you ever were in a fucking distress which I clearly can't see,"

"Can you stop being an asshole for one second?" You exasperatedly whisper-yelled at the Adonis in front of you, sounding desperate as you were on the verge on exploding all your pent up emotions towards everyone. You definitely had to deal with your boyfriend right now, and Lance is not helping. Your heels whipped around, eyes leaving your very amused coach in the gym as you flipped him the bird after he yelled, "I'm giving you five minutes, so you better not fuck like rabbits in my gym!"

You shake your head, rubbing your temples together as you paraded towards where your boyfriend was, looking serious and mad. Well, what was his problem then? You weren't the person who became distant, forgetting that you have a boyfriend. It was technically the other way around. Arms crossed in front of him, you glared into his eyes. Totally showing how pissed off you were at him, yet the sentence he spat seem to irk you more. "Lance Tucker? Really, Y/N? There are tons of great coaches in the world, why the fuck did you pick him?"

"Everybody had 24 hours a day, so why didn't you fucking bother talking to me when all I ever wanted was a bit of your attention?"

(Y/BF/N)'s eyes went all wide. Igniting that growing anger inside of him. "Don't change the topic, Y/N--"

"You're here to bitch out about why I chose Lance as a coach? Why don't we skip the irrelevant problem and go straight to the main problem? Why. Did. You. Ignored. Me. For. A. Week Y/BF/N?" Your words were emphasized and even your emotions. The more that your conversation continues, the more it gets intense. From the moment you've started raising your voice, a man who have been busying himself with his phone on the other end of the gym have raised his head, instantly setting his pretty blue eyes as he was checking if you were still fine.

Which is exactly the opposite.

"Babe," Y/BF/N tried to reach your arm, yet you were faster and harshly jerked his hand away. "Oh no you don't," He dropped his hands in a tight fist, glaring down at your figure. Oh, the audacity. "Don't call me that because it's giving me shivers,"

"Bet he calls you that too," He spat, his eyebrows cinched together in fury. Was he really thinking you and Lance had something together? Sure, your coach was a womanizer, but you...you won't go that far with him. Your mind was set, you've picked Lance because he won gold and silver. He has a lot of potential in teaching you how to win the gold. You know everything happening was strictly professional..sometimes. But, it's not the point. You know he's a great gymnast.

Former limp dick shrugged his lanky shoulders, staring straight at you with no remorse, showing the animosity that you didn't expect to come from him. He was acting strange, like he's become a changed man in just over a week. "You probably moan his name in bed either, Maggie showed me the video,"

Well, that made your eyebrows grow up higher than the empire state building.

"Maggie--Maggie Townsend? How the fuck do you even know her? And what video?"

You've notice a pair of eyes have been on you since the moment your argument started, you couldn't help but take a glimpse at the asshole of a coach that you have.

His eyes were tightly squinted together, Lance looked like he was ready to pounce on Y/BF'S/N, eyebrows all furrowed and serious..Your heart skipped a beat as you saw him being all protective, guarding you like a hawk. Even thinking that your boyfriend would hurt you at that exact moment..Not until Lance started wiggling his brows, nodding knowingly at you while he raised his wrist, showing you the time while he gestured that you only had two minutes left.

Y/BF'S/N technically curved your question and started ranting with his unstoppable dirty ass mouth, making your insides go at war with your emotions. He was really getting on your nerves right now and Lance didn't let that go unnoticed when you started impatiently tapping your foot on the floor while you tightened your fists. "Don't be an in denial bitch, Y/N. You're just like everybody else. What's even special about him? His huge ego? Conceited self? A narcissistic bastard? Or his arrogance turned you on, so that's why you gave in?" He whisper-yelled, scared that Lance would hear the argument. Wow, what a limp dick indeed.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SAYING?" You yelled and the whole gym echoed. Lance began to cross his arms, his thewy biceps already popping out of his red, blue and white uniform. Every little bit of his attention was practically on you, and only you.

"Don't play dumb on me, Y/N. I had to force this out of Maggie in exchange for..something valuable. If I didn't give her what she wanted, then I wouldn't have known this,"

"What the fuck are you talking about? What did you even give her?" You didn't realized that your voice started to go quieter, smaller and weak. There was a hunch inside your head, but you were trying your hardest not to believe it. However, your boyfriend's next words broke you whole, tearing the trust and love you had for him. Even your big, youthful heart.

Y/BF'S/N's whole demeanor changed, he held his head up high as he looked down on you. Seeing you in the verge of tearing apart was feeding his ego and pride. It was making him damn happy for a lie that was fed off to him by a woman who was extremely infatuated at him. Hard. "Paradise. Just like those kind that Mr. Lance-the-fucker-Tucker gives you,"

"W-What?" You stuttered, and Lance saw how your shoulders fell. It wasn't the Y/N he knew. You should've sassily raised a brow at your boyfriend, show him those fangs that he sees all the time.

Lance sighed exasperatedly to himself, pinching at his temples. "Fuck, Tucker. Don't interfere, don't fucking involve yourself." He chanted like it was his mantra.

"That's right, Y/N. Now, you know how it feels,"

You blew out a breath you've been holding, glowering at him with an incredulous glint in your eyes. "Are you seriously thinking straight right now?" You spat, squinting your eyes at him and realizing that his eyes looked entirely different, too different and colored. "Oh, God. No you aren't. Your eyes are full blown red, you're...you're--"

Lance saw how you washed your face with your hand, trying to hold back on punching your ex-boyfriend in the face. He saw you raise your arm, pointing towards where the exit was.

"Get outta my fucking sight, Y/BF/N! You're a fucking douche bag, an asshole!"

Y/BF'S/N cocked his head to the side, smirking widely. His mouth never knowing when to stop, "If I'm an asshole, then you're a bitch. Fair enough?"

The whole gym was quiet, your mind went blank and you just wanted to scream at him for showing you his true demons. He wasn't the boy you used to love, the boy in front of you was a huge bastard, he even had the courage to smirk after basically telling you he had sex with your friend turned enemy when she began leaving you for a new, popular group of friends and her boyfriend who have been the popular boy in school.

Past was definitely the past. Time's changed now and you were already in your freshman year, you knew she went to a university far from you but you didn't expect she'll still be around. Maggie even had to guts to ruin your relationship and lie just to have her favorite, new eye-candy who was technically not available, yet that didn't stop them from fucking each other.

You could feel yourself frowning, eyes all cloudy and warm. Uh-oh, you thought to yourself. Your tears were threatening to fall and if he doesn't leave, then he'll have the satisfaction to see you crying over a worthless boy.

"Aw, guilty as charged, Y/N?" He badly teased, leaning down to take a better view of your face. You were about to open your mouth and shout a loud cuss on his face, yet you heard a voice that you didn't expect would be your knight in shining armor because he can also be a knight in shining asshole at the same time. But, to make everything a little better, Lance probably thought it was time to show his assholey-ness towards a person who was born the same race with him.

"Hey, dick-sucking-fucker! That's enough! Out of my fucking gym," Lance crossed his arms after practically marching with heavy foot steps as he went towards where you were. Y/BF'S/N gave him a scowl and to your surprise, Lance snaked his hand on your shoulder, clamping his hand tightly on your arm. Mentally telling you now to cry over a petty boy like your ex. You bit your lip hard before squeezing yourself in between the empty space of Lance's arm, which made him lift a lopsided smile when you did.

He saw how your ex-boyfriend took notice of the interaction. That's good, Lance's mindlessly thought at the back of his mind. That's what he wanted Y/BF'S/N to feel. He wanted him to die inside his own insecurities and doubtfulness, believing over a manipulated gossip that was obviously a lie.

"What are you going to fucking do about it, asshole?"

Lance shrugged, chewing on his gum rather loudly than he intended too. "I'm letting you choke up a fucking pole while you try and smoke another joint, Limp dick."

"M-My dick is not limp," Y/BF'S/N reprimanded, stuttering by Lance's intimidating aura. Just his mere presence could make his ego turn to dust. Your coach snickered, chuckling to himself and raising his hand to point out what he wanted to say. "Small dick? better? I remember how Y/N told me it was a size of a--what was that called? Oh, a fucking Chapstick,"

"You assho--!"

"I'm an asshole, but at the same fucking time," Lance breathed though his nose, eyes blazing and taunting. "I'm the fucking God of gymnastics and that's why your fucking girlfriend whom you took for fucking granted chose me over your good-for-nothing self!"

You were moved when Lance rapidly snatched your ex-boyfriend's shirt by the neck, his steele blue eyes entirely in rage, completely heated with anger because of how Y/BF'S/N was disrespecting you. Your heart stopped as you stared at the both of them having an intense staring competition.

You could see how Lance was panting hard and how startled your ex boyfriend was from how your coach snapped. "Leave, weed dick. I don't want you near my gym at all costs, if all you'll ever do is let a beautiful, precious woman cry her heart out, then you better leave. Out. NOW. "

Beautiful. Lance's words kept replaying inside your head even after he pushed your ex-boyfriend away towards the exit. He suddenly became nice and it was impossible.

You stood rooted on the ground, completely shook from the sudden plot twist that happened in your life. The loud bang of the door made you jump, and you saw how Lance marched towards you. A grimace shown in his attractive features. Once he stopped in arms reach, you were startled to feel his rough fingers wiping your hot tears away. "Stop," He nonchalantly uttered, ignoring your questioning eyes. "Stop crying for a useless asshole like him, he doesn't fucking deserve it,"

He placed his hands on his hips after wiping your tears away, scratching his neck as he glanced to see your eyes that needed answers from him. "What--Do you--" You started but ceased yourself to continue as you thought everything all out. You were about to open your mouth for the second time when his next words kept your mouth zipped.

"I meant it,"

You raised a brow at him. Sniffing your snot away. What did he mean that he meant it? Your asshole of a boyfriend broke up with you and now your coach says he meant it? Did he meant to call you beautiful? He's kidding.."I meant that he's a fucking limp dick, Y/N. Do you really think I'll fucking call you beautiful when you're giving me a headache because of being so uncoordinated?!" Lance saved himself from being misunderstood. Unless, he was lying. He was now crossing his bulgy arms, and repeatedly placing his hand back on his hips like he was acting fidgety.

"I wasn't even saying anything?" You spoke back, a small smile wanting to come out but you're fighting it back. Trying to appear serious in front of your bothered coach. "You're uncoordinated and fucking hard headed," Lance sternly muttered to himself, his scowl and eyebrows tightly cinched together. Finding out how those words slipped out of his dirty little tucker mouth. You could feel your hidden pride clapping inside of your brain as a smirk lifted your lips up in entertainment, "I'm uncoordinated and hard headed,"

Lance huffed to himself, eyebrows raising as he nodded so big. "Took you long enough to realize, Y/N!"

You lowly laughed to yourself, eyeing him up as he was towering over you. His perfume so aromatic that it could hypnotize you and maybe it did because you were starting not to think straight, "But that didn't stop you from staring at my ass the entire time,"

You stood on your tippy toes, trying to reach his ears and the look on his face was priceless. "I'm uncoordinated and so hard headed that you so wanted to fuck, Lance Tucker."

Y/N had the last laugh because she was right and for the first time, Lance the fucker tucker was speechless because everything she said was true and he couldn't believe it himself.

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[freakie-deakie]

Hyunjin // If We Let Go (Part 3)

I love you all so heccin much you have no idea. Thank you for all the love you've shown this story <3

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Hyunjin x Reader (angst mini series // 2k words)

'It's been a while; hasn't it, old girl?' you thought in bitter sweet sarcasm.

Some time had passed since you'd laid eyes on the horrible shade of stained wood that lined the similarly stained oak door. The polish had warn off of the metal handle, the numbers on the keypad fading fast after it. The 'nine' button was beginning to corrode, as well.

These we're all things you'd seen before, but never really noted.

You pondered for a moment if it would be alright for you to just walk in as you had so many times before. Granted, some time had passed since then, but you didn't keep track of how much.

It was probably leaning on a month since the last time you had seen a friendly face that wasn't Felix or Jeongin, and even when others would visit you, their company was few and far between. The visits of your now closest friends were even becoming seldom.

It felt like growing apart from your best friend in grade school; neither of you caught it in the act, but one day when you needed to take something to someone you could trust, a feeling of loneliness would sink in.

It's not like you didn't have other friends who would willingly comfort you, but it had been even longer since you'd seen any of them, although you made it a point to respond to all of their messages that inquired about your well-being.

You decided to knock. Last time you let yourself in, you discovered the harsh truth of your relationship that you probably would have been better off without knowing. Sometimes, ignorance is bliss. It didn't take long for the door to open, a startled Changbin pulling you into his strong embrace.

"Who is it?" Minho called. Changbin didn't answer him. Instead, he stroked your hair and kept you in his grasp, not minding the few tears that dripped onto his black shirt. Minho, having not received a response, rounded the corner and spotted your shaking form, small next to his dongsaeng's built body. "Y/N, uhm.."

"Living room or my room?" Changbin whispered into your hair. You didn't reply, only whimpering back at him. He gently pulled you to sit on the couch, burrowed into his chest. He would have liked to take you somewhere more private, but Hyunjin was one of his roommates and he didn't have the immediate desire to alert him of your arrival.

Minho followed you both, quieting the loud movie that they had been streaming prior to your sudden visitation. "I can leave if you want me to."

"You don't have to," you snivel. "I don't care about the stupid bet anymore. We're still friends."

He looked relieved as he placed himself on the edge of the far end of the couch.

"What happened, princess?" Changbin soothed into your mane.

"They fired me. The media management team didn't have their stats together for me to present, and they fired me for it. They said I'd been causing too many problems for other employees too, but I don't understand what I did tho make everyone so upset. I worked so hard, I don't understand what I did wrong." Your hiccups broke up your sentences every so often, but you managed to successfully get out your explanation out. No one said anything, but just let you sit there and cry. The noise, however, did bring onlookers. Felix made his way to your free side with a confused expression, and Jisung quickly knelt in front of you, attempting to take your hand before you pulled it away, signalling that you weren't close enough for him to do that anymore. In that moment, you barely even noticed that you had done it, but Jisung was deeply hurt, and upset with himself that he was the only one to blame for your refusal to touch him. He sat back as others joined the room and waited for you to calm down.

The first words to pierce the occasional sob were, "Guys, I don't know if she really wants to do this in front of a whole ass crowd of people." It was Changbin. He felt most responsible for you in that moment, having been the one to find you is such a pathetic state.

The deep rumble of his voice hushed you for a moment before an unwanted one echoed through the room.

"Is this about... Is this about me?"

Nearly everyone's eyes turned to Hyunjin when he entered. Some of them bore looks of hatred, never looking at him the same after he hurt and pushed away their precious Y/N. The more knowing members, aware of the pain he'd endured since seemingly everyone, including the one he came to realize he was in love with, turned against him, gave him looks of pity.

He didn't know whether to be happy or sad when Changbin shook his head, relaying your answer for you.

When you calmed down enough to take in the room, you finally spoke for yourself. "Guys," you croaked, "I kinda don't want to do a big share circle right now." Although you asked nicely, no one moved. They all cared to much to let you push them away again and hide in the arms of only select members. Not only that, they didn't want to be the select members. Everyone was tired of tip-toeing around everyone else, and they wanted you to be on the same page. You were all supposed to be like family. Hell, you were supposed to be a family.

"No one in this room is going to pity you or look down on you, Y/N. We just want to help," Woojin tried.

"Maybe we should give her some space," Chan commented.

"I'm so far past giving her space," Minho snapped. "She's one of my friends that I've been giving space for almost three months. I missed her, and she won't be alone when she's lonely, jobless, and crying." You sniffled again at the blunt way he said it. "I don't care if it's a selfish to make you uncomfortable by staying with you, because I'm staying with you."

"You're a dick," you whined, pathetically leaning further into your buff, protective-feeling friend, "but you can stay. I just don't want to talk about it." Felix glared at you, edging you to change your mind. You looked at him and softly spoke, "I'm not bottling, I'm just being-"

"You're not being the bigger person, you're being an idiot. You're perfectly capable of comprehending what you've been doing to your mental health and that you need to stop doing it." He tattled to the other members. He and Jeongin, who Jisung had (somewhat rightly) felt had taken his place, had been most aware of how you had recently been pushing down all of your emotions and covering them up with working until you were extremely fatigued.

"There are some days when you guys don't even sleep," you snapped back at him. "I'm fine, and I'm gonna stay fine."

"Then why did you come here a crying mess?"

"Because I wanted to be comforted by the people I care most about and I have been, and thank you. But we're done now, you don't have to comfort me anymore."

"You're so stubborn!" he all but shouted at you. His raised volume only made you raise your own, not wanting to back down and give in to spilling your emotions to everyone.

"I don't want your help, I want your company," you bit out, hoarse voice cracking toward the end.

"Well, you get both."

Eventually, they did push you to your breaking point. You sat all night with the boys who, unbeknownst to you, had an early schedule the next day. You finally confessed your stresses to them, at some point or another letting most everyone hold you; but even though your resentment towards them had died, there was an unspoken congruity that said Hyunjin and Jisung needed to keep their distance.

They couldn't do that, of course. They tried at first, but when the hour began to breech two, there were only five of you left in the living room, chat turning to whispers as not to disturb the other members' rest.

Hyunjin whispered into Chan's ear, making the elder hesitantly nod, lowly wishing him luck and excusing himself to call in for the night.

And then there were four.

You, and those who felt guilty towards you.

"Maybe I should go, too," you shy. "It's late and in sure you're ready to hit the sack."

Jisung was quick to signal you to stay sitting, moving toward you and sitting at your side, the closest he'd gotten to you all night. You awkwardly shifted away, but didn't leave.

"I'm sure you don't want to hear it, but I'm so sorry. I know you hate me, and you should, but I am sorry. I wish I could go back in time and make myself be more considerate, and I hate that I can't," he tried, eyes beginning to brim with tears. You'd undeniably grown apart, but when you saw the first droplet slip past his lower lash line, you instinctively reached towards him to wipe it away. "I'm so sorry."

You didn't embrace him, as much as you wanted to. You needed him to understand that things had changed and that you stopped being his best man and the first in line to be his shoulder to cry on when shit hit the fan. You didn't hate him, but you weren't yet willing to be close with him once again. You had more self respect than that.

They all apologized collectively, and decided it was best to skip telling you that many of the other members had basically shunned them for their poor choices. They didn't want to pity-trip you into a friendship with them. They hoped you would come around to having one again, though.

It didn't manage to go completely unmentioned. Jisung and Minho returned to their rooms with a somewhat clearer conscious, leaving the boy with the most to say alone to speak freely to you.

"Ya' know, for a few weeks I even blamed you for turning my friends against me. Then I realized that I was the stupid idiot who did that." He chuckled at his own foolishness with sadness. "I was so stupid, only seeing what I wanted to." He inhales deeply. "Sorry can't even begin to express how badly I feel about what I did."

"I forgive you."

His ears perked up at that. For eleven weeks, he'd wanted to ask for your forgiveness, and hoped with everything that he had that you would give it to him. Now, it didn't feel right. He didn't feel like he'd done enough to earn it.

"What do you mean, you forgive me? I did so much damage- not only to our relationship, but to your friendships."

"It wasn't just you that ruined my friendships, made me doubt myself, and sent me spiraling into endless bad habits that took their tole on me in some way or another. It wasn't you who helped me pick myself back up either. In fact, you don't really currently have a spot in my life, so what's the use of staying mad at you?" Everything you said, the straight truth, hurt to hear tumble out of your mouth. "But," you countered, "you can have a small spot, if you still want it. We don't have to be friends, but we can smile at each other when one of us walks into the room. We can high five when we walk past each other."

"You're too nice for someone like me."

"Change that, and we can be friends." You held out your fist towards him, watching as he eyed it as if it were some sort of trap, too good to be true. You wiggled it a little, telling him not to leave you hanging.

He sealed the deal with a fist bump and thanked you, barely being successful at keeping his tear ducts under control.

"You know," you started, grabbing his attention before shattering his heart, "it's comforting to know that someone else still loves me."

You gave him a sad smile, briefly placing a comforting hand on his knee before bidding him a goodnight and leaving.

"He's more deserving of you, too," Hyunjin whispered to himself.

[crystalrequiem]

The Voice that Urged Orpheus

[Part 3/6(?)] [TRC] Summary: Kurogane learns more about a mysterious new world and accidentally seals his own doomed fate. Tags: Kuro/Fai, Canon Universe, Post-Canon, Warnings:  suggestive thoughts and implications (nothing graphic), People assuming married status, GOD, so much fluff, Is it still slow-burn if they’re already in a relationship? because that’s basically what this is. [Part 1] [Part 2]... [Part 4]

Honestly this section probably should have just been included with the one previous. Not as happy with it because it feels less... cohesive? directed? meh.  Nevertheless I feel like it’s necessary to set up some of the world-building so I can get to the good points later. Hope you still enjoy! I really look forward to reading your comments and tags. They seriously keep me going!  

The shopkeep, it turns out, does look a little familiar. She has dark-skin and a well-toned frame, pretty face framed by a shower of pink, fluffy hair. He doesn’t think any version of her has ever been a particularly close friend, but something about her rings a bell anyway.

“Hello, hello! Your young friend here was just telling me you wa—wow.” She seems perfectly amiable but the moment Fai steps fully into view, her whole expression shifts. Her jaw drops, and the wide eyes she graces them with matches the expressions they’ve been earning outside. “Oh-ho-kay, Hi! I’m so sorry; I didn’t think anyone from the academy would stop by, uh. How—how can I help you?”

Kurogane and Fai search each other out long enough to share a moment of confusion.

“Academy?” the mage echoes. However badly Kurogane’s attempt at reassurance rattled him before, he displays no indication now. Given his ability to bury his feelings beneath exhausting layers of façade, this comes as no surprise.

“Yes? I mean—I just assumed… what with your magic the way it is—” She glances from Fai to Kurogane and back, shock and bewilderment only incrementing. “Do you—are you two sharing the same magic?”

Alright, so they’ve at least found a reason for the staring. Apparently the people of this world can commonly sense magic, and they find something strange. Something about himself and Fai, in particular. Kurogane breathes a little easier given an idea of what makes them stand out. He just wishes he had any hope of keeping up with the why. Magic focused-worlds make his head spin.  

At least for right now, Fai seems equally clueless.

“No, I don’t think we are,” he answers, bemused.  

“Wow. Hunh.” Her eyes catch on something they can’t see, staring into the empty air between them.

“Actually, Miss Caldina,” Syaoran leaps to the rescue in the awkward silence that follows. “When I said we were travelers from far away, I meant… We’re from very far. We don’t really know anything about this place. Is there any way you could explain a few things about the area?”

The woman, apparently named Caldina, breaks herself from her trance. She pats her face with both hands hard enough to produce a resounding slap. “Sorry! That was rude of me. Let’s start over. Hello, Welcome to the Enchantress. Why don’t you nice folks ask me your questions and I’ll see what I can do?”

A world where everyone can see and use magic.

Kurogane doesn’t get most of what Caldina says, nor does he really understand what Fai and Syaoran ask in return, but he understands that much. People here… see magic. How much potential people have, the spells they cast, the lingering enchantments in his arm, and now his cloak.

According to the shopkeep, Syaoran’s magic stands out on its own—a prodigy, for certain. That alone might distract the townsfolk, but… Fai brings it to a whole other level.

Apparently Fai’s magic is dazzling. He stands visibly above the rest. Caldina had taken a single look and assumed he must belong to the city’s prestigious Academy, where this world’s best casters gather to learn and teach, developing the field of magic further. Then she’d spotted Kurogane and nearly had a heart attack.

“It’s like looking at a flame about to go out—for I second I thought you were dead! No offense!” He doesn’t know how the comparison to a corpse should not offend him, but in the context of magic he supposes he doesn’t mind. “Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone live with as little magic. I thought your husband must have been pulling from you or masking you or something.”

Chaos reigns as soon as she completes the sentence. Mokona bursts into a flurry of giggles, rolling across Syaoran’s shoulders. The Kid stares at his fellow travelers like a deer caught in lamplight, and Kurogane… looks to Fai.

The mage doesn’t react to Caldina’s mistaken assumption save for the extra-bright flush rising to his cheeks, visible even despite the sunburn.

“Well,” he murmurs, lips quirked in a teasing half-smile, “You’d be surprised how little magic people really need to live.” He doesn’t contradict her. He wants to tease—to fall back into their game of overreaction and meaningless words. Fai meets Kurogane’s eye like he’s issuing a challenge—just waiting for the embarrassment to overwhelm the surly ninja and push him to set the record straight.

He doesn’t.

Once upon a time he would have died of mortification and flown right off the handle to hear someone call Fai his husband. But right now… well it’s kind of his goal, isn’t it? It only annoys him that apparently people other than Fai don’t need his intentions spelled out for them.

Eventually, his family realizes he doesn’t plan to say a word. Mokona’s celebration falls to a hush and Syaoran clearly has no idea what to do. Fai’s expression remains implacable, save for the distinctive blush still written on his face.

“Sorry, did I say something wrong?” Caldina drawls.

“Not really! It’s just that those two aren’t married..?” Syaoran takes pity on them all and lets her know, though the fact that he phrases it as a question doesn’t skip Kurogane’s notice.

The poor shopkeeper visibly takes a moment to process this information, flabbergasted. She stares again at whatever it is she can trace between himself and Fai, and shakes her head. “Why not?” her expression reads quite clearly. And boy, does Kurogane not have an answer to that.

“I’m doing a great job of putting my foot in my mouth today.”

“It’s fine! Sometimes Mokona forgets they aren’t really married too.” The manjuu chimes amidst nervous laughter.

Kurogane huffs and turns away, tuning out the cheerful banter that follows. Maybe this is part of his problem. After everything, he feels so close to Fai that even marriage can’t quite encapsulate what they already are to each other. In the end, the extra title of “husbands” won’t change them. It won’t make Fai more or less than he is, or guarantee a forever, or do anything other than put a layer of formality over what they already have.  

Still… there’s something about that formalization that he wants. A definite moment in time he can point to as a promise made, a good memory he can give to Fai who has so many to outweigh it, a declaration of intent that the world can’t ignore… He wants to ask for that.

Maybe he’s just a sentimental fool.

He emerges from his thoughts, watching as the shopkeeper purchases a few of their curios for what seems like a decent sum of currency. They exit the shop with a little more confidence and directions to the famed Academy of Chizeta.

“Shall we?” Fai charms, gesturing theatrically towards the direction of the supposed academy. His early sunburn has settled on a pink that gives him a permanent look of over-heated exertion.

Kurogane squints in the too-bright sunlight, but only Fai truly blinds him. The jerk has no business being so damn attractive. Especially not when he’s going to permanently damage his skin at this rate, walking around with his hood down. The urge to thread his fingers through sweat-dampened gold and kiss that stupid grin off his face strikes Kurogane with all the force of a hurricane. He reaches out before he can stop himself and only manages to switch tacks at the last second, tugging Fai’s hood up far enough to cover his eyes.

“You’re gonna burn, dumbass.”

The line of Fai’s mouth tilts from shocked to pleased in moments, and the mage laughs, reaching up to adjust his cloak enough to see. Shit, Kurogane feels weak to that sound every time—unguarded and honest.

“Looking out for me?” Fai teases.

“Always.”

The word escapes him before he can think twice, but he can’t regret it. At least it forms some part of the mess he so badly wants to communicate. This time, Fai takes his desperate sentimentality a little better. He shakes his head, frustration and affection swimming in a churning cocktail of emotion behind his too-blue gaze.

“You’re hopeless.” He touches Kurogane’s shoulder as he sighs the words, sending a renewed burst of magic into the fabric that cuts right through the re-building heat.

“Can we really be sure they aren’t married though?” Mokona’s voice shatters the moment, and Fai and Kurogane both startle badly. He lunges for the damn pork bun, ready to pound it into mochi, before he thinks better of it and remembers that the world outside his Mage exists. They’ve already begun to draw stares again. Maybe Fai’s use of magic just now looked particularly interesting? He doesn’t know.

They start their sojourn toward the school in good spirits, even despite the heat and the persistent attention. He finds himself far less paranoid, even if so many eyes still make him feel like he doesn’t quite fit in his own skin. Syaoran and Fai take the lead, talking softly about cooling charms and how they work. Eventually, Mokona catches on that his cloak has already been ensorcelled and burrows into his hood without his permission. Annoying, but… well he can’t blame the manjuu for seeking out a little relief. It is hot. Part of him wonders why Fai hasn’t copied the spell on his own clothes or Syaoran’s, whether the spell might have taken more work than he thought, and whether he should pass the chilled cloak around in turns… He’ll suggest it when they stop next.

Either way, the enchantment does its work well. The ache of his shoulder nearly disappears as magic wicks the heat away. Less distracted by pain, he has a far easier time monitoring the stares they gather. He can track the eyes of others lining the crowded city streets as they trace lines of invisible magic. A few people glance his way in confusion, but for the most part, Fai and Syaoran draw a majority of the attention.

He thinks of Caldina, pleased and impressed just by the sight of them, able to gauge magic power with a glance, and something like pride struggles to escape him. It buoys upwards, a nervous bubble caught in his chest. So maybe he feels like the kid and mage deserve a little recognition… surely there’s nothing strange about that.

He can’t help wondering what they must look like.

“Everyone is so interested in Fai! Seeing magic must be very exciting. Mokona wants to see too.” The pork bun mirrors his thoughts and sours his mood, speaking in that tinny voice far too close to his ear. He’s not prepared to hear the mage answer,

“Oh, it’s not so exciting really….” Fai’s gaze drifts somewhere distant as he trails off. Sadness seeps through the cracks in his mask—hard to see, but Kurogane can find it in the way he holds himself. Old, and tired. Burdened by some bad memory. The kids don’t notice.

“Does that mean you can see magic too, Fai?” Syaoran voices the thought aloud, quiet enough to escape the hearing of any onlookers, and the mage’s smile sharpens. He focuses on the boy and that heart-twisting sorrow bleeds away.

“Not naturally, like people in this world can, but there’s an old spell for it from… well.” He waves a hand, as if to knock the words from the air. Kurogane knows somehow with a distant pang that he would have said “Valeria.” “I can show you later if you really want, but I promise it’s not as exciting as it sounds.”

The kids both chorus out a “Mokona does really want,” and “Yes, Please!” to the surprise of no one. Fai must have expected the children to say as much; he doesn’t so much as blink when he hears them. No. Only Kurogane’s quiet, “Sure,” shocks Fai enough to forget his words and halt him mid-step.

His cheeks burn with the weight of a different sort of stare and Kurogane looks to see his family gaping.

“What,” he grouches, and Fai rewards him with another honest laugh.

“Nothing at all, Kuro-sama.” He turns back to the path and keeps walking, careful to make sure Syaoran keeps up. “The spell has to be cast by the viewer to work. I meant to teach Syaoran, but… well…” He glances over his shoulder at both Kurogane and Mokona, smiles that slow, easy smile Kurogane loves so much. “I guess I’ll see what I can do.”  

Kurogane manages to choke out a gruff, “thanks,” and tries to ignore everyone the rest of the way to the Academy. Between Mokona’s muffled snickering at his ear and the way Fai’s every breath draws his attention like a moth to flame, he does not succeed. He tries to imagine what the magic might look like—Fai somehow brighter and more incandescent than he already is, blue eyes cutting through his soul, that signature white and blue written into his skin or drifting off him in waves...

…Fuck. He’s so doomed.

[peace-love-piper]

(Date: 11 October 2019; Location: Ministère des Affaires Magiques de la France; Part 2 of 2)

“I really don’t think we should—“

“Piper—“

“—do this Emi I—“

“Piper—“

“—have a bad feeling and I think we’re in over our heads here—“

“Piper!!”

Piper stopped her pacing back and forth inside the lift and looked imploringly at her cousin, who ran a hand through her hair and took a deep breath before saying, “Look, I’ve been in this Ministry building a zillion times…not on that floor, granted, but…I can have us in and out before anyone notices a thing, okay? Can you just…trust me?”

Piper chewed on her lip. It didn’t feel right, what they were doing, she knew they could get into trouble, but…not knowing would eat away at her, and she knew it.

So down they went, to the bottom floor: Le Bureau des Secrets.

The lift doors opened to reveal a guard. “Excusez-moi, mademoiselles—“

But Emi was two steps ahead of the game; she reached out to gently grasp the man’s forearm and he stopped talking, mid-sentence, and observed her curiously, eyes glazing over slightly in that telltale manner. “Puis-je vous aider?” he said in a much more genial tone.

“Ce serait merveilleux si vous pouviez nous escorter dans la salle des dossiers confidentiels…” purred Emi sweetly, batting her lashes. Piper’s heart was in her throat, and it was all she could do to force a half-smile and not run in the opposite direction.

The guard seemed to ponder this suggestion for a moment. Then he nodded and said, “Bien sûr.”

The walked in silence down a long hallway, Emi’s hand resting in the crook of the man’s arm as if he were her escort on an evening stroll, and Piper following behind. She was so nervous she could barely breathe, let alone even attempt to take in all the plaques on the doors the passed. They finally stopped in front of one, and the guard performed some complicated, efficient wandwork that opened the wards on the door.

Emi reached out and opened the door with ease, and after her and Piper slipped inside, she pointed her wand at the man and whispered, “Obliviate,” which left him blinking absently at the closed door, wondering how he’d managed to get so lost in his own daydreams.

If it was dark up in the Records Room, in here it was as black as pure obsidian. Piper fumbled with her wand before managing to shoot up a few flickering light orbs. She opened her mouth to whisper something to Emi, but before she could, another voice from deep in the room said, “Well, what do we have here? I take it you’re not supposed to be here…”

Both girls yelped in surprise and held their wands aloft, defensively. Out of the darkness stepped a very tall, very gaunt man. His skin was a pale, almost ashen color, and his dark hair was long and tied back. The pupils in his dark eyes were huge, and they glinted in the light in an odd, menacing way.

“Parlez-vous anglais?” he said. His voice was both smooth and electric; a palm over velvet mixed with television static.

“O-oui—I…I mean, yes,” said Piper.

“Lovely. What are you doing here?”

“We, er…we’re relatives of Monsieur—“ tried Emi, but the man cut her off.

“Save your breath. Your Veela magic won’t work on me.”

Piper felt her stomach drop as realization dawned on her. This main’s energy was incredibly faint, almost imperceptible, suggesting he had extremely well-controlled emotions. But what she could pick up felt…strange, cold, unnatural…

A vampire.

Piper instinctually reached out and squeezed Emi’s hand, breathing deeply. Be brave, she told herself firmly, He’s just another Being…misunderstood, just like we are. Though to be honest, this whole lurking-underground-in-the-darkness-trying-to-frighten-people thing wasn’t doing this guy’s image any favors. Probably the way he intended it.

“Erm…how did you know, that we’re…?”

He made a scoffing noise in his throat like he was offended by the question. “Please. I could smell you the moment you walked in. Your blood, it’s…how would you say…perfumed, in a way, ambrosial…quite intoxicating, really.”

A chill crept up Piper’s spine. Emi’s nails dug into her hand.

“So I’ll ask you again: what are you doing down here?”

“P-please, Sir…” said Piper, “…we’re not here to cause any trouble, it’s just…well, our family records, you see…i-it said they’d been, er, relocated down here…”

“I see. Well, your Visitors’ Pins grant you access to the Records Room, but I highly doubt you’d be granted clearance on this level, no matter who your family is…”

Emi huffed in offense and looked as if she were about to say something, but Piper shook her head to stop her. They weren’t going to get what they wanted by trying to outsmart him, clearly, and certainly not by talking back, either.

The vampire continued: “…now, I like to think of myself as the compromising sort, yes? So the question is…what can you offer me in exchange for information? And for not reporting you to the Law Enforcement Bureau right upstairs, of course.” He smiled. His incisors—retracted, but still sharp—glinted menacingly in the light.

“Well, erm…w-what is it that you want?”

“Blood,” he replied, matter-of-factly, and Emi gasped. “A bit of blood, from either one of you, I don’t care who. Government work allows so few pleasures, you understand…”

“Absolutely fucking not!” Emi exclaimed, while at the same time Piper said, “Why?” Emi gaped at her, and Piper, ignoring her, repeated her question: “I mean…why, do you want it? I mean…don’t they allow to, erm…feed?”

The vampire laughed at her darkly. “Allow me? I’m a very old vampire, child, and I do what I please…as for the government here, yes, I’m perfectly adequately compensated for my work, if that’s what you mean.”

“Then why would you want blood from one of us?”

“Because, Little Veela…your blood doesn’t just smell intoxicating. It is intoxicating, to my kind…rumor has it that just a few drops can drive a newly turned vampire mad with bloodlust…which is why I imagine your kind are so stingy about keeping it inside your pretty little bodies…”

Piper could sense Emi absolutely seething with fury beside her, but thankfully she managed to hold her tongue.

“…Now, I myself have never had the pleasure of sampling Veela blood. And a fine opportunity seems to have presented itself, no?”

The silence was so tight it seemed to vibrate, like a plucked guitar string. Finally, Piper said, “How much?”

“Piper, no!” Emi pleaded.

“Just a sip, really…” assured the vampire, “…hardly any at all…a fraction of what you’d give at a blood bar.”

Piper pondered the idea, hard. She was…absolutely fucking petrified, no doubt about that. But…what was a little blood, in exchange for knowledge? People donated blood to vampires all the time, it wasn’t unusual at all, really… And besides, did she have a choice, really? If she didn’t agree, what would stop him from turning them in? It was their only leverage.

Finally, after a long moment, she said, “I…I’ll do it.”

“You can’t be fucking serious, Piper!” Emi argued angrily. “It’s not worth it!”

Piper turned to look her cousin in the eye and said seriously, “Yes…it is.”

Boldly, Piper stepped forward, trying to fake a sense of confidence that she simply did not possess. When she was stood before the vampire, she looked up at him and asked, “Does it, er…does it have to be the…?” She raised a hand to the side of her neck timidly, unable to form the correct words.

“The neck? No no, your wrist will do just fine.”

He held out a hand expectantly, as if he were just asking her for a dance. Lip between her teeth, Piper took a determined breath and placed a hand that was only slightly shaking face-up on his. He closed his hand firmly around hers and raised her arm upwards, hunching over slightly to meet it. And then…

Piper cried out in pain when she felt two sharp points puncture her skin. Emi surged forward behind her, but Piper held out her other hand to halt her. “It’s fine, Emi, it’s…it’s not that bad,” she said through clenched teeth. And truthfully, it wasn’t that bad…it was painful, sure, but manageable. The initial shock of it was worse than anything else.

After one long minute, though, that seemed to stretch on forever, Piper began to hear her pulse in her ears, her knees going weak. Little white spots flickered in her vision and Piper whimpered, swaying where she stood.

“That’s enough,” Emi growled.

Obligingly, the vampire released Piper’s wrist from his grasp, and she stumbled back into a hard wooden chair that she could have sworn wasn’t there a minute ago. She glanced down at her arm to see blood trickling out of two circular wounds, and she was instantly woozy. The vampire tossed something through the air and Emi caught it, and then Piper hissed as something liquid stung the puncture marks. She winced through the unpleasantness of Emi cleaning the wound and bandaging her arm, and after a moment she was left with just a dull throb that she cradled, breathing heavily.

“Alright, fuckface,” Emi spat at the vampire, “You got your pervy little snack. Now give us the file.”

“Certainly, certainly…” he replied, positively chuffed, “…name?”

“Au-auclair,” Piper said, her voice cracking slightly, “A Veela with the last name Auclair.”

She didn’t know if it was just the blood loss making her feel slower, but the vampire moved fast. In an instant he’d dropped a thick file on a table beside them with a thud.

“What do you know about the De Wit Group?” he said suspiciously.

“The…who?” Piper said with confusion, and stood up shakily to join Emi, who was opening up the file.

Upon observation, there were a few basic cover pages that were in French, but the bulk of the documents in the file were in English, as if they’d been passed on from another Ministry or organization. Silently, Piper began to read…

Name: Andries de Wit

Birth place: Netherlands/Unknown

Birth year: 1901

Type: Veela, Full-Blood, Male

Status: Terminated

Report: Founder and leader of the cult-like organization known internally as the De Wit Group, also known as the United Sunshine Association of Charmed Peoples & Ideologies. Target is considered highly dangerous and has been reported to brainwash organization members (referred to as “family” by those within the group) and disseminate propaganda encouraging civil unrest and discord between various magical groups, including between magical species, against magical governing bodies, and against non-magical folk.

None of this was making any sense to Piper, and she was about to say as much when Emi turned the page and she read the next profile:

Name: Desiree de Wit (née Auclair)

Birth place: France

Birth year: 1941

Type: Veela, Full-Blood, Female

Status: Terminated

Report: Daughter of matriarch Emilia Auclair of the Auclair Veela Line, reported by family members to be estranged/disowned after running away with de Wit at age 16. Observed to be the favorite and assumed protege of de Wit’s mistresses and the only other Veela of the group. Reports indicate Desiree as his right-hand in group operations, where he would sow seeds of discord, discontent, anger and unrest, she would beguile potential followers, serving as a honeypot to draw them in with feelings of desire, passion, and longing. Considered highly dangerous and fastidiously loyal to de Wit.

Update: Further evidence suggest that target sired two offspring by de Wit, female twins. Note that twins are considered highly coveted in Veela bloodlines. Offspring names unknown but reported to begin with letter E. Field investigations indicate offspring were intended to formally be indoctrinated into De Wit Group via ceremony of some kind, but either fled or were hidden before forced disbanding of the group. Offspring whereabouts are currently unknown but are considered subjects of interest. If found, request immediate apprehension and transport to the nearest magical governing agency for questioning.

Piper felt sick to her stomach, and panic seized her entire body. This was what they’d been hiding from her all this time? Not to lie to her, but to protect her? She was wracked by guilt, unable to imagine the trauma her aunt and mother must have experienced, the constant fear they must have lived in trying to conceal their true identities. Everything made sense now, why her mother constantly moved them around when Piper was a child, why she’d picked a random surname for them, why she was so distrustful of authority and, most of all, of men…

And Piper had put all of it in danger by coming here, looking for answers.

“Someone’s coming,” the vampire said in a calm but urgent tone. “Over there, please…” he said, indicating a dark corner behind a row of filing cabinets.

Piper was frozen where she stood, but Emi grabbed her hand and pulled her out of sight, sending a fresh throb shooting up her arm. Pressed against a wall Piper trembled uncontrollably, her mind reeling; she held her breath and pressed her hands over her nose and mouth to prevent herself sobbing.

The vampire conversed in low, rapid-fire French with someone, and Piper didn’t even attempt to follow what was being said. Then a door closed, and everything was silent.

Piper and Emi held their positions for what seemed like an eternity, but which was actually probably about thirty minutes.

When Piper felt on the verge of passing out, the vampire finally hissed, “I would leave now, if I were you. And don’t come back.”

And, feeling like they were in a fever-dream, that’s exactly what they did.

[buckyscrystalqueen]

I Can’t: Part 2

Pairings: Seb Stan x Reader

Warnings: Anxiety, introvert stuff… angst. IDK I’m bad at this kinda thing. Fluff & swearing as usual.

Word Count: 2,330

A/N: Looks like we got another one shot turned mini-series. Enjoy & Thank @magpiegirl80 for the adorable derp photo of her dog, Ollie & send love to my pups, Lucy and Skye!!!

Part 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took two weeks of denial before you saved his phone number and two weeks more of staring at it at least ten times a day before you got the nerve to even consider texting him back. The process of actually sending that text took at least a month and a half because you knew once you did… you were opening Pandora’s box. 

‘Hi… so I guess I’m your soul…’ *delete*

‘So we’re soulmates… I guess.’ *delete*

‘I’m sorry to break it to you but I can’t…’ *delete*

‘I don’t know what you want from me…’ *delete*

‘I don’t think I can handle being in the spotlight…’ *delete*

‘Hi…’ *Send*

You sat nervously in your spot on the couch in your living room, staring at the iMessage screen on your laptop, regretting hitting send severely. It was only a few moments before the three dots of doom appeared in the bottom left hand corner.

‘Hi, sweetheart. How are you today?’

You couldn’t stop the small smile that pulled at the corner of your lips as you moved your hands from where you were clutching them together under your chin and set them lightly on your laptop as if it were going to burn you for doing so.

‘Scared.’

You responded truthfully. Your head reeled as you tried to come up with just what you wanted to say but the three dots appeared once more before you could.

‘That’s perfectly understandable, (Y/N). It’s an intimidating situation.’

You nodded in agreement as you curled your hands under your chin again and bit your lip while the dots continued.

‘How about we take this slow because trust me, I have just as much anxiety about this as you do.’

You huffed a humorless laugh and shook your head as you wrote your response.

‘I doubt that. Did you stay curled up in your bed for three day watching reruns of Sex and the City?’

The moment you hit send, you wanted to melt into a hole at what you just confessed to Sebastian freaking Stan.

‘You got me there.’ 

‘But I did eat a whole pizza in like an hour if that helps at all.’

You smiled fully and nodded.

‘It does. I turn to Ben and Jerry’s myself.’

‘What’s your go-to flavor?’

You bit you started to actually chew on your lip as you glanced over your computer screen to think for a moment.

‘B&J would be Half Baked but hands down, cookie dough is my favorite.’

‘Cookie dough!!!!! I love cookie dough! But my B&J flavor would be Chunky Monkey. It’s addictive.’

You giggled as you quickly looked up the unfamiliar to you flavor and scrunched your nose at the ingredients listing.

‘Eww walnuts! I can do everything else about that but the walnuts.’

There was a few moments of hesitation before the dots appeared again.

‘I could totally insert a ‘nuts’ joke right now but I’ll refrain out of respect. LOL.’

You giggled at your screen and choose to let your inappropriate side stay hidden for now.

‘I’ll let it slide. But trust me when I say I’m far from appropriate usually. My mom gets on me about it all the time. Especially the amount of times I say ‘fuck’ in a single sentence. I make Negan from Walking Dead look like an alter boy with my mouth.’

Once you hit send, you closed your eyes and groaned.

‘Well it is a very versatile word. I’m a big fan of it’s many forms.’

He responded and you could almost see his smirk in your mind. You couldn’t help yourself with your response.

‘Oh, I bet you do! LMAO’

‘But you’re not alone there, hun.’ 

‘There it is! Hahaha! Ahhh, I love it!’

You smiled and crossed your legs under your laptop on the couch as the three dots appeared once more.

‘Hey, I’m really, really sorry to cut this short but I have a thing here in a few minutes so I have to go.’

Your smile instantly dropped.

‘Oh! Right, famous actor. Right.’

His response was instantaneous. 

‘Hey, I don’t want you to think of me like that, sweetheart. You’ll overwhelm yourself. I’m just a regular guy that has the same fears, anxiety, and hesitation about this situation as you do. Finding your soulmate is a huge, life changing step. But at the end of the day, no matter how much I want this, you still have the option to walk away. I hope you don’t. I really, really hope you give this a chance. But if you look at this with me being famous, I have a gut feeling that you’ll pull away from me before you give us a chance. And I know it’s hard to wrap your head around being in the spot light with anxiety. It’s hard to do anything with anxiety and I get that. But try to stay calm for me, OK? Please, (Y/N)?’

You read through his message twice before nodding your head slowly.

‘OK.’

‘OK. If it’s OK with you, I’m gunna text you later tonight when I get done with my thing. Sound good?’

You nodded again as if he could see you as you wrote out your response.

‘That’s fine. I’ll do my best not to psych myself out too much.’

‘That’s all I can ask from you, sweetheart. I’ll talk to you later.’

You waited a few minutes, staring at your computer screen before looking up at your front door when your mom walked in.

“I texted him.” You said simply as she set her bag down by the front door.

“Good for you.” She responded with a smile as she flopped down on her couch with a sigh after a long day at work. “I’m proud of you for taking that step.” You nodded in agreement as you looked back at your laptop screen and scrolled to the tops of the messages to read them over once more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You know, you’re the luckiest girl in the world.” Your Tumblr friend, Christine said on a Face Time call the next morning. “I’d kill to have a soulmate with that body. I’m just stuck with JP… Oi! Don’t hit!” She said as her fiancé hit her in the back of the head with a pillow.

“It’s just weird.” You said as you glanced over at the horror movie you had on as background noise. “Like, of all the fucking people in the whole world, a freaking actor is my soul mate.” You looked back at her with a shrug. “Like really? I feel like the most unlucky person in history here.”

“Bullshit.” She snapped back. “How are you unlucky?”

“Christine, it’s me! I’m awkward and loud and I say inappropriate shit all the time. How the fucking fuck am I supposed to date an actor, huh? I’d embarrass him right off the edge of the map!”

“Don’t be a dick. He obviously is fuckin’ in to ya if he’s taking time out of his busy schedule ta see how you are. So put your big girl pants on and accept that the famous actor is your soulmate, you lucky cunt and let him get to know you!” A smile pulled at the corner of your lips as you looked away from the screen.

“I’m lucky as fuck, aren’t I?” You asked as you looked back at her. 

“Hell yea you are! So don’t go fuckin’ ruinin’ it by runnin’ around in your head so I can live vicariously through you.”

“Alright, alright!” You conceded. “Sorry UK hubby. I’m divorcing you!” You called out teasingly at JP.

“I want half your shite!” He yelled back causing you and your friend to laugh.

“OK, so now what?” You asked as you made yourself comfortable in your spot and muted the woman screaming on your TV. “What do I do now?”

“Well he said last night ta text him when you got up, right?”

“Yea…”

“Well you’ve been up least an hour since ye actually have clothes on…”

“Shut up.” You laughed but she continued over you.

“So text him. Stay casual…”

“And say what?”

“Say ‘hi’, ya bell end!”

“You’re a horrible friend, do you know that?” You joked.

“I know.” She said with a shrug as she picked up her long haired Jack Russel terrier, Ollie and held him up beside her face. “Do it for Ollie.”

“Rude.” You replied flatly as you waved at her. “Alright, I’ll call you later.” She waved back and said bye as you hung up the video call. You groaned to yourself and leaned back against the back of your seat as you scrubbed the heels of your palms from your hairline down to your chin. “Alright, fine.” You said aloud to your own dogs as you pulled up your iMessage app. “I’ll text him.”

‘Morning’

As you waited for his response, you turned the volume of your movie back on. You watched for a few moments before your laptop ‘dinged’.

‘It’s almost 11. If you are just waking up, I am royally jealous. I’ve been up and at the gym since 5am.’

‘Oh, hell no! I protest for you. The only exercise I do is walking my dogs around the neighborhood and whatever exercise I get at work walking clients up and down hallways.’

You turned down the volume of your laptop so it wouldn’t be annoyingly loud as the three dots popped up again.

‘1) what kind of dogs? And 2) what kinda work?’

You smiled as you grabbed your cell phone off the pillow beside you and pulled up your photos with a smile. You quickly found your favorite photo of your pups sent it to him before going back to type on your laptop.

‘Lucy is the white one. She’s a soft coated Wheaton terrier. Skye is the black one Lucy is sitting on. She’s a rescue so we don’t know exactly what she is but we say she’s a Havanese because that’s what she looks like.’

‘And I’m a CNA which is basically an under appreciated, under paid babysitter for the elderly. I work about thirty hours a week right now. Helps my mom pays bills as best as I can.’

‘OMG those are the cutest damn dogs in the entire world! I’m jealous. I miss being able to have a dog but I travel too much. And good for you on the job. I bet it’s tough to work with the elderly and not get the appreciation other nurses get.’

You nodded in agreement as you responded.

‘It takes a special kinda person to do my job. I hate it so much usually. But when I’m almost at the point where I want to throw my hands up and quit, a client or a family member makes it worth my while again.’

‘Well I’m proud of you, sweetheart. Even if no one else is. I am.’

You smirked at your screen as you took a sip of your coffee and set it down on the table beside you.

‘You have to be. You’re my soulmate, remember?’

‘Hey! I’m trying to be supportive here. You’re killin’ me, Smalls.’

You let out a barked laugh as you found the gif you had saved in a file for Tumblr.

‘For-ev-er.’

You smiled proudly at yourself as Seb responded.

‘I’m crying tears of joy that you got that reference. I’ve said it before and people just looked at me like I was more crazy than I actually am.’

‘I have classic tastes, IDK what to say. I can’t tell you how many times I have referenced ‘classic’ movies on Tumblr for it to just go right over half my followers heads. Like what is this from?’

You pulled up your file of ‘Pics & Gifs’ and scrolled through to find the one you wanted.

‘Well that one’s just too easy. The Big Lebowski, obviously.’

‘Yea for us old folks. Bet your ass 75% of the population under 25 have no idea what movie that’s from.’

‘Well now that’s just… that’s just sad.’

You nodded in agreement and sighed.

‘You have no freaking idea.’

It took a few minutes for him to respond again and you almost forgot you were texting him when he sent you another gif.

‘Name the film.’

You scoffed loudly and shook your head.

‘Really? You’re gunna try to trip me up on a Tarantino flick? He’s one of my faves and that’s ‘Four Rooms’. Try again, Seb.’

The two of you went back and forth for nearly three hours sending the most obscure movie gifs you could find; everything from ‘Airplane’ to ‘BASEketball’. Most of them you had both seen but there where a couple that either you or he hadn’t and Seb said he was starting a lit of movies you both needed to see eventually. Before you knew it, your mom was getting home for her between cases nap and your head whipped up toward the clock.

“Damn, is it really three?” She nodded as your laptop ‘dinged’ with another text.

“Hi Christine.” She said as she set her purse down on the coffee table on her way out to the back porch for a smoke.

“Not Christine.” You responded as you guessed ‘Office Space’ correctly. She stopped by the sliding glass door with her eye brows arched.

“Sebastian?” You smirked and nodded as you sent a gif from ‘Wet Hot American Summer’. “Good for you. I’m proud of you.”

“Stop.” You laughed as you mentally cheered for your soulmate for getting the right answer. “I’m just making a new friend right now. Don’t go ordering wedding invitations.” You looked over at her as she held her hands up in surrender.

“Didn’t say anything.” She claimed on her way out back. “Just glad you’re making friends again.” You grumbled at her to shut up under your breath as you pulled up yet another gif and sent it off to him.

Part 3

[basic-banshee]

large black coffee

A Carry On Coffeeshop - AU/ College - AU | inspired by this beautiful art. 

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | Read on AO3

“I glance at the cup before I raise it to my lips, and one eyebrow goes up when I see what ridiculous insult he’s written on the cup today.”

Simon

“Penny, he’s back,” I groan. I rush into the back office where Penny is sitting on a stack of boxes, a huge notebook on her lap. She doesn’t even look up.

“Who’s back?”

I huff. She knows.

“Him! You know!”

She finally looks up and stares at me through her huge glasses. Some of her curly hair is stuck underneath the lenses.

“Simon. I don’t know.”

She’s being deliberately thick, she absolutely knows, but I gesture wildly toward the front of the cafe where I know he’s currently waiting. I practically ran back here the second the door opened and I saw his stupid coat and stupid bun.

“Him! The tosser with the names. Baz. Basil. Basilton. Who has two nicknames for the same name?”

Penny has looked back down again. She’s already checked out of this conversation. She always does when I try to talk about him.

“He comes here every day. Why is this a surprise?” 

“It’s not a surprise!” I sputter. I’m getting flustered. I hate explaining things.

“Please, will you take his order? I already know what it is. I’ll make the revolting thing, just please talk to him.”

Penny sighs, one of those deep, heavy sighs that feels like a parent coming to scold you. Penny has all of those mum sounds down perfectly. She’s going to be a terrifying mum one day, but in a good way. I guess she learned it from the best. Professor Bunce is extremely intimidating.

“Simon, I have a ton of orders to go through here. Why can’t you just deal with this?”

“Because we always fight! He’s such a tosser, we always end up squabbling and today has been so good, Penny. It’s been so good. Don’t let him ruin this day for me.”

Today has been good. It’s getting colder, and I don’t feel like I’m about to burn alive for once, and I opened the cafe this morning so I got first dibs on the scones. It’s been a great day.

I turn on the charm. I open my eyes wider. I pray that she’ll take the bait. She doesn’t even look.

“That’s just your thing, you know? Everyone has a thing they do with their barista. This is yours. Just go.”

“And Basilton isn’t even his name!” I’m almost shouting. I should probably be a bit quieter. “It’s his middle name. The professor called out his whole name in class, it was like an entire sentence. His name is basically Tyrannosaurus, Penny. Tyrannosaurus.”

Baz

They have absolutely no fucking idea I can hear them.

Simon

“Simon, this is absurd. I’m not doing your work for you.” Penny doesn’t mention that she’s busy doing just that, because I made a mess of the supply forms last week. I appreciate that she doesn’t go for the low blow. 

“Fine,” I say dejectedly. “I’ll do it.”

The tone of defeat is what finally gets Penny to crack.

“Simon, why does he bother you so much?”

That’s all the invitation I need.

“He’s just so creepy! He comes in — always alone — every day and orders that disgusting custom drink—“

“Oh, I think it’s rather good,” Penny interrupts.

“Yeah, every now and then, sure,” I concede. I’m still flustered. I know he’s standing out there. I guess I’ve kind of been making him wait for a long time. It’s a bit rude. I should probably just go out there and deal with it. Especially if I was wrong. What if it’s not him?

“I should just go take his order, shouldn’t I?”

Penny nods, she’s not looking at me again.

“That would probably be a wise idea, yes.”

I peer around the corner.

Nope. It’s definitely him. He sneers the moment I step out from the back office. Actually sneers. I’ve never seen someone do this before, but he’s got it down to an absolute art.

I shuffle to the register, my head down, and grab a medium cup from the stack. I won’t fight with him today. I won’t ruin this good day. I look up to give him one curt nod, then begin writing his order on the cup.

“Usual then?”

Baz

He’s already written my order before asking what I want. It is what I want. But I hate the presumptuousness of it. I dislike being predictable. Not to mention I just heard him call it disgusting. Twice.

“Usual then?” he asks. He speaks like a street rat, slurring his words together into some unintelligible mess of uzalen?

“No.” My voice is cold and clipped. Good. “I’ll have a large black coffee today.”

I’ve surprised him. You can see every expression on his stupid face, and right now he looks confused. His hands stop in the middle of ringing me up and he stares at me, his mouth open.

“What?”

It comes out low and sluggish. Wat?

“A large black coffee,” I repeat.

He’s squinting at me now, his blue eyes narrowing into a look of suspicion. He thinks I’m up to something. (I guess I am.)

He tosses the cup he had been holding and picks up a new one.

“Cutting back on sugar, eh? Good on you mate, got to dodge those root canals,” he says. Hearing him speak is like listening to the murder of the English tongue. I sneer at him again. I give him my best one, the one that reveals my teeth, so he can see them. I don’t like to brag, but they’re perfectly white. I know they look shockingly bright against my dark skin. Okay, maybe I do like to brag.

He’s staring at me. He’s waiting for me to respond. I stare back. He expects us to fight. So I’ll refuse to engage. It will throw him.

He’s still staring, and a flush is working up the tawny skin and moles of his neck and travelling up to his cheeks, where it meets his ridiculous mess of freckles. My silence is unnerving him.

“Is that... “ he stops. He moves his hand as if to pull it through the craze of curls on the top of his head but then he stops, and his hand is just hanging in midair. He looks like a gorgeous idiot. “Is that all?”

I don’t know if he’s talking about my order or the conversation. I just nod.

He squints at me again like I’ve just upended his entire world. (God, I wish.)

“You sure you don’t want your mocha?”

“Yes,” I say again. I’ve pulled my hand out of my pocket to tap my fingers impatiently against the wood of the counter. He’s staring at them. I tap them louder.

“Yes you want your mocha, or yes you’re sure you don’t want your mocha?”

This has quickly turned the corner from amusing to fucking excruciating. I would say there’s no way he could possibly be this thick, but he’s outrageously good looking, and brains and beauty rarely go together. Unless you’re me.

“Just give me the damn coffee, Snow,” I snap. I see his eyes go wide. I hadn’t meant to let on that I know his name. Fuck.

Simon

“How do you know my name?” The question is out before I realise it. Sometimes I hate that I say exactly what I think.

He’s glaring at me now, so much more intensely than he ever has before. I thought I’d earned his best glare the day I made him insert his chip-pin card ten times in a row because I kept accidentally cancelling his order, but that had nothing on the full-bodied look of hatred I’m getting now.

“We have a class together,” he says slowly, like I’m an idiot.

“Oh. Right.”

I should have thought of that to begin with. That’s how I know his name — his whole name, his whole posh, prehistoric name. He only ever gives his name as “Baz” when he comes into the cafe, and when the professor rattled off that whole mouthful I almost had to clamp my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing.

I’m surprised he realised I’m in that seminar though. I noticed him the second he walked in on the first day of term, but I sat in the back and he never acknowledged me, so I guess I just kind of assumed he hadn’t noticed.

He’s still tapping his fingers on the counter in front of me. They’re unnaturally long and slender. But not in a creepy way. In like, an outrageously elegant way. Who has fingers like that? I can’t help but look at my own hands as I punch his new order into the system. They’re pretty stumpy. Even my hands have freckles on them. It’s a bit mad, actually. I always look like someone has sprinkled a bit of dirt over me.

“Alright, so, right, that will be £1.50 then.” His fingers stop drumming long enough to fish out a handful of coins and slide them across the counter.

“Thanks, right,” I say as I slide them into the register. It closes with a thud, but he’s still standing there like a complete tosser, his hands in his pitch black jacket. He’s still staring.

“My coffee,” he says again, tilting his head toward the cup. I feel myself go bright red again. Fuck. Right. The coffee.

Baz

“So, you ready for that presentation on Monday then?” he asks cheerily as he fills my new cup. Why is he making conversation about school suddenly? And especially about that ridiculous class.

I’m actually a bit embarrassed to even be in it. It’s one of those first year seminars where they make you learn how to write essays and make powerpoints and work as a team. I didn’t take it my first year because I thought it was excessively stupid, and I was fairly sure I would be able to get out of it. Which didn’t work out exactly how I thought, as I am now surrounded by first years.

When Snow dragged himself in (late) that first day, I would have assumed he was a first year as well, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s been working in this cafe for at least two years, and he’d been in an upper-level class with me last year. (Statistics.) (I’m fairly sure that Bunce girl did all his work for him). So Snow and I are the only non-first years in the class, and it’s all a bit humiliating.

“Yes. I’m prepared,” I say as he puts on the lid. “For the presentation tomorrow.” I see him freeze. Panic flares around him as his blue eyes go wide, and his mouth opens a bit. He’s an absolute moron, and he believes my lie completely.

I can’t contain my smirk. He sees it, and it seems to piss him off because his shoulders hunch and he juts out his chin when he shoves my coffee at me. (Christ, even his hands have freckles.) (He always looks like someone has just sprinkled cinnamon on him.)

I glance at the cup before I raise it to my lips, and one eyebrow goes up when I see what ridiculous insult he’s written on the cup today.

“Tosser?” I ask breezily, shaking my head. “Not your best, Snow.”

I wait till I’m out of the cafe and well out of sight of the windows before I throw it away. I hate black coffee.

[brokenjardaantech]

the trust they lose

written for this prompt challenge. rated T just to be safe.

relationship: captain allen & simon pre-relationship

fandom: detroit: become human

summary:

There is something different about the man that distinguishes him from other humans apart from his positive attitude towards androids, but then Simon can never find out exactly what it is. So he does what he is the best at: taking care of his two humans whenever Louis lets him, because again, unlike most of the parents at this age who basically ceded parenting duties to androids or teachers or nannies or a mixture of the three, Louis prefers being proactive in Shub’s life, and during those times Simon is allowed to read, surf the net, or just go to stasis to run a few diagnostics and install some software patches. Granted, sometimes it means he spends more time idling than it is probably healthy for an android like himself, but recently he has taken up the habit of sticking to the two humans even when his presence is not strictly required.

The soft, little smiles Louis gives him always make his software unstable.

also on ao3

---

Simon has never seen Louis being this nervous before. Well, it might not be nervousness - the Allen father and child are both so stoic compared to the other humans Simon has seen before, the fluctuations in their lifesigns whenever they emote too small for him to arrive at conclusions - but whatever mood the man has been feeling for the past few days, there is an undercurrent of jitteriness that doesn’t suit the man at all, and whenever Simon inquired the reason behind - he asked because taking care of the entire household is one of his objectives, after all - Louis would merely look at him with a bitter smile and say, ‘Let me find the words,’ which basically translates to ‘I have no idea how to talk about it because it’s so different from what normal people experience’, which is also the norm of the Allen household, with Shub being a cyborg and… whatever Louis himself is. There is something different about the man that distinguishes him from other humans apart from his positive attitude towards androids, but then Simon can never find out exactly what it is. So he does what he is the best at: taking care of his two humans whenever Louis lets him, because again, unlike most of the parents at this age who basically ceded parenting duties to androids or teachers or nannies or a mixture of the three, Louis prefers being proactive in Shub’s life, and during those times Simon is allowed to read, surf the net, or just go to stasis to run a few diagnostics and install some software patches. Granted, sometimes it means he spends more time idling than it is probably healthy for an android like himself, but recently he has taken up the habit of sticking to the two humans even when his presence is not strictly required. 

The soft, little smiles Louis gives him always make his software unstable.

Of course, Simon told his owner a few times about it, as any good android should in case their master wants them replaced, but Louis always waved the warnings off. ‘I don’t care if your software is unstable,’ Simon clearly remembers the way the man placed his hand on where the android’s armband should be if he had been in any law-abiding clothes; Louis had not required him to be in his uniform at all times since day one because of something about Simon being a member of their household and doesn’t need to be singled out and whatnot. Simon had accepted it with the obedience of a perfectly new android who just stepped down from the display stand in a CyberLife store not an hour ago. ‘You’re an essential part of our family now. That means we take care of each other regardless of the situation. And no,’ Simon had wanted to argue about how his model was already being phased out and the cost of repairs would just go up in the future, but the human interrupted him with a slight shake of his shoulder, ‘I’m not replacing you anytime soon. Do you know how damned hard it is for Shub to find a new caretaker whom they can trust?’

Arguing with him would have been for nought, so Simon had shut up and left the conversation in the form of using a software patch as an excuse. He attributed his ability to lie to his software instabilities.

It both scares and excites him.

Finally Louis tells him about what has been bugging him for the past few days after putting Shub to sleep. ‘Simon, I need to talk to you,’ he says, all formal and proper. He’s even seated at the dinner table, which is a sign that whatever he is going to talk about, it is something serious that both of them should treat with the greatest attention. Therefore Simon slides into the other chair for adults with his arms on the table, their hands so close to each other that they are almost brushing, giving a man his full attention. When Louis fidgets with the sleeve of his jumper for too long, Simon takes a pair of gun-callused hands into his own, rubbing the soft flesh between the human’s thumb and pointer finger to relieve days of pent-up stress stored in what seems to be everywhere in his body. He also makes sure to catch Louis’ eye before speaking.

‘It’s been bothering you for the last few days, hasn’t it?’ he asks. ‘What is it about?’

The human makes a sound that is between a snort and a chuckle. ‘It’s stupid.’

‘It bothers you. Is it about your work?’

‘Work? No -’ Louis pulls a hand away so that he can cover his face with it as he laughs - ‘No, it’s not work.’

‘Then what is it?’

‘It’s just…’ Louis taps his fingers against the table. ‘Fuck, it must sound so fucking stupid to you. All that time I told you about how much I trust you…’

Something rises from the bottom of Simon’s chest but he can’t put his finger as to what it is. ‘Then tell me about it,’ he urges, a hint of annoyance in his voice. ‘Or don’t, if it’s some secret you must keep. But know that I’ll always be there for you,’ unless you don’t want me to, Simon doesn’t add because Louis doesn’t need it.

A pause. A deep sigh. The frown between his brows deepens. ‘My sister is going to visit us in a week.’

A sister. That is new. ‘And what about her?’

‘She’s bringing her girlfriend with her.’

‘Are you going to answer me in the most generic short sentences for the next three hours until you can get to the point?’

Simon doesn’t know where the sudden outburst came from, but it seems to be successful in shocking the human out of his insecurities and even manages to force a nervous giggle out of him. ‘It’s a long story,’ he settles down. ‘In short: they aren’t happy about me… purchasing you as Shub’s second caretaker. They claim that they’ll need to visit us in-person to determine whether this is still a suitable environment for Shub or not.’

Simon’s fans have to kick up a notch to process everything. ‘I… I don’t understand,’ he feels as if something is squeezing his thirium pump tight. ‘You said I’ve been -’

‘And here’s the other thing,’ and crap, here they are, their roles reversing in the span of a few seconds with Louis being the one doing the comforting. ‘They don’t care about me or my opinions. They won’t take my word for it. All they see is that you were manufactured by CyberLife and…’ a sigh that might as well be a growl. ‘They called you a fucking security risk as if it isn’t their fucking job to keep us safe!’ He suddenly kicks his feet and leans backwards with a groan, his hands covering his face so that Simon can’t see his expression. ‘I hate this,’ he supports his head with his elbows on the table. Then he repeats, this time his voice no more than a whisper, ‘I hate this so fucking much.’

Simon’s instinct tells him to ask if there is anything they can do to avoid the visit, but then he remembers the trust issue between the man and their two future visitors, and suddenly he realises - ‘You haven’t told me their names yet.’

‘Trust me, you won’t need them,’ Louis lets out another chuckle. ‘Maybe my sister, sure. I’ll introduce you to them and vice versa when the time comes.’

‘Or you can tell me about them right now.’

‘If you can get me drunk, sure.’

Louis doesn’t drink at all.

‘You know you can just tell me if you don’t want me to know, right? I’ll understand.’

‘I want you to know!’ these words come out of Louis’ mouth so quickly that the man is panting by the end of them. ‘It’s just…’ he pinches the bridge of his nose. ‘Those people don’t deserve to take up space in your brain. That’s all. I… I don’t want them to hurt you.’

The way Louis says the last sentence is of a man unused to being so powerless. He looks like he is about to cry too, the sockets of his eyes oddly pink and swollen and his eyes suspiciously reflective under the kitchen light. Simon is suddenly overtaken by the irrational urge to throw his arms around the man and tell him that everything is going to be fine, that whatever is going to happen, they will face it together.

So he does exactly that because there is no use resisting it.

‘We’ll cross the bridge when it comes to it,’ he gives the human’s back a few gentle pats for extra measure. And the way Louis carefully returns the hug and how he buries his face into Simon’s shoulder? rA9, his software instability is going over the chart. ‘I’ll tell you if I want an out.’

A telltale sniff. A sigh. Louis pulls back, but his arms remain on Simon’s back as if he can’t stand putting any more distance between the two of them. At this proximity, the one inch Simon has on the human is amplified many, many times over; Louis is usually so calm and collected, his demeanour unfazed regardless of all emergencies in both the household and his line of work.

Just exactly what kind of character can reduce a person like that to this state?

‘I’ll dismiss them with a Glock if necessary,’ with unshed tears, Louis’ eyes seem to only have become greener. ‘Not that they’re afraid of being held at gunpoint, but it’ll get the point across.’

‘Then I sure hope that it won’t come to that.’

Louis shakes his head, his eyelids drooping. ‘Can androids hope?’

‘I do.’

It takes Simon a few seconds to realise that his tone might have implied other things. It takes the two of them even longer to realise that they are still holding each other, and they pull away from each other awkwardly with their limbs clattering and Simon nearly falling down on his side when he tries to step aside just to trip himself on Louis’ foot, the chair he holds onto skitting on the floor for a couple of inches with a loud, squeaking noise that grits his audio processors and induces fear in both of their eyes as they collectively turn their gaze towards Shub’s bedroom door, holding their breaths to hear if they have just woken up their child. After a few seconds of tense silence, they relax and Louis helps him stand up straight again. ‘Think I’ll head off to bed early today,’ the human murmurs. ‘Thinking about those two wears me out.’

‘Goodnight then, Louis,’ Simon says. He barely manages to prevent himself from kissing the human’s goodnight just like how Louis does to Shub or the people in the vids they watch together. ‘Sleep well.’

‘Goodnight to you too, Simon.’

oOoOo

In the end, they don’t even have the choice to prepare themselves. One moment they are lazing around in the house after a tasty dinner (at least according to the two who can actually eat), the next moment they hear the telltale click of the electronic lock being unlocked on top of a turn of keys, and the three of them watch the knob turn from an external force until the door opens wide to let in the chilly night air and two of the most menacing people Simon has ever met. The first one through the doorstep is no doubt Louis’ sister: the shape of her lips, the angle of her brows, the colour of her eyes, even the permanent frown - all of them are exact copies of Louis’ features. But there is no warmth in her gaze as she scans the room while blocking the door; unlike her brother’s, her eyes are sharp, cold, and Simon can nearly hear the calculations being done in her mind as she catalogues every single feature and disorder within her line of sight. She is much taller than her brother too, standing at a height of about 6’4 from Simon’s visual observation when compared to the height of the frame of the door. 

Nothing prepares him for the next person stepping through their doorstep, though.

She is even taller than Louis’ sister, towering over everyone and everything in the room, and even though the door frame is technically high enough to fit her height, she still ducks her head slightly as she walks through, her thick, slicked-back hair brushing the top even with the adjustment. The most remarkable feature on her face is the scar marring the tanned olive skin around her right eye: jagged and angrily red with a size of Simon’s fist when he curls up his hand loosely, it looks like as if someone has dragged a ball of steel wool harshly on her face a few times in different directions recently, making the scar a rough triangular shape that extends all the way to her brow and also covering most of the right side of her nose. Her head twists, and the change in the light allows Simon to catch the cold, pale grey of her red-ringed irides and the large tattoo that looks like a radioactive symbol - except it’s not quite that. While the symbol itself is more angular than its common counterpart, three arms consisting of numerous arrows point towards the circle at the centre of the symbol and extend to the corner of her lips and disappear into her hairline both in front and behind her ear. A large, faded ring sits a few centimetres outside the radioactive symbol, making way for and not touching the arms but still creating a full circle otherwise, and even more faded than that - or perhaps it seems faded purely because of how thin the lines are - a web created by numerous curves that spreads out and becomes more concentrated the closer they are to the centre of the tattoo. There is a freckle on the lobe of her ear that makes it look like a piercing but it’s not, and when she finally lays her eyes on Simon, it feels like his entire being is frozen, his body being held in place by an invisible force, his processors churning to a stop. His intuition tells him to run, to protect his family, to do something - but he just can’t because he has a feeling that he won’t survive if he dares move a millimetre. 

So that’s why Louis sounded so defeated.

It is also Louis who reacts first instead of allowing the stalemate to continue. An unnecessary grunt, a shift of his limbs on the sofa so that he is now supporting his upper body with his elbow on his thighs, and then he’s looking at the general direction of their two visitors. ‘Captain,’ he nods his head towards his sister. Then to the other woman, ‘Captain.’ Then, turning his focus onto Simon, ‘Simon, meet my sister, Captain Anna Allen,’ the Major nods at him so he nods back just to be polite, ‘and Captain Sara Rahman. And Captains,’ he indicates Simon with a small cock of his head, ‘this is Simon, Shub’s other caretaker. He’s been helping me since January.’

Rahman’s look hardens. It can be a trick of the light, it can be the polished black boots she is wearing amplifying her height, it can be her immaculate dress uniform, but she seems to loom over them without ever changing her stance. ‘Helping? Or collecting data for CyberLife?’

‘Both,’ Simon’s gaze snaps towards Louis’ sister and discovers that she, too, is looking at him with an intensity only rivaled by her girlfriend’s. Neither of them has moved from where they are standing by the door blocking their way out. ‘I doubt he’s aware of it.’

‘Louis switched off personalised feedback when he purchased me,’ the pronoun Anna used doesn’t escape Simon, and he has a feeling that lying won’t get him on the two Captains’ good side. ‘The data collected by CyberLife is minimal.’

‘Minimal is still too much,’ Sara says. She is still looking at him. ‘We can’t take the risk. Your brother performed an unauthorised purchase.’

‘One that you didn’t even investigate until months later, if you are aware,’ Louis snaps. ‘Why now? Why the two of you together? And stop staring.’

‘I’m running scans.’

‘What for?’

‘Evaluation. I need to know his hardware’s capabilities before taking the next course of action.’

‘What are you going to do?’ Simon asks because he doesn’t trust the two Captains, certainly not with this attitude and their behaviour. ‘My priority has been Shub and Louis since the beginning. As they are both satisfied with my service, I fail to see the reason to take action.’

‘It’s not your fault, Simon,’ it’s Anna’s turn to speak apparently. ‘We also want to keep Shub and my brother safe.’

‘You, you mean,’ there’s a harsh edge in Rahman’s voice as she glares at Anna. ‘If you want them to be safe, they shouldn’t be here at all.’ Then, with her eyes on Simon once more, ‘And certainly not buying an android who is feeding data to a megacorporation 24/7.’

‘That’s why I brought you.’

‘It would be foolish not to,’ Rahman takes a step forward, and Simon doesn’t even have the time to tell her to take her shoes off before she is standing in front of where he takes up an entire armchair unapologetically, holding out an arm in what seems like an invitation of a handshake. 

A notification pops up in Simon’s HUD telling him that he has received a request for an interface, and this is his turn to look at the human. ‘What are you?’ he blurts out. This is way out of his league. He turns towards Louis for guidance, sending a direct message to the earphone his owner is wearing on his left ear out of habit and informing him about the situation. ‘What do you want to do?’

‘To break through CyberLife’s control.’

‘How?’ Louis speaks up. The corner of Rahman’s lips turns down as she turns her head slowly to look at him. ‘What will be the price? Better be specific here, because I sure as fuck isn’t letting you treat Simon like a shiny electronic.’

Rahman straightens. Her attention is no longer on Simon for once. ‘You are the one who got us into this mess, Louis.’

Shub chooses this moment to bolt up from where they have been sitting on the floor and dash to Simon’s side with their tablet in their hand. They use their flesh hand to choose one of the pictures displayed on the board, prompting the tablet to let out the most terrifying ‘NO!’ Simon has ever heard, shocking every single adult in the room into silence, but before they can construct their next sentence with the board, Simon finds his arm being held in a grip that he cannot escape from because apparently his audio processors received a command to stay still, and he can’t move, there is something forcing its way into his systems trying to change his code, he doesn’t want it to so he pushes back as he tries to give Rahman’s cold eyes the angriest stare he can. A red wall with ‘STAY STILL’ written on it appears in front of him, blocking his way to completely force the worm out of his system, and time seems to slow down as he spares a glance or two at Louis and Shub, at his family, who are moving at slow motion towards his direction probably to subdue Rahman with all they have, and he realises that if he breaks the wall, if he sets himself free… they’ll still care about him. Unlike most humans, they treat him as an essential member of their family, and if neither of them trusts Rahman anyway…

A projection of himself shoots up from the armchair and smacks its hands against the glitching red wall. As his mind pushes, the projection smacks the wall again and again, the tickle of red from the wall growing bigger and bigger until it crumbles underneath its hands. With one last mental push, the worm is out of his systems, he is standing up in reality and placing his hands on Rahman’s shoulders and pushing her back, the glove on Shub’s claws are gone and the five sharp metal extensions pointing at the Captain are glinting under the light of the living room, Louis somehow produces a gun from… somewhere and is pointing it at Rahman’s head; as for their two visitors, Anna stands at the door with her hands jammed in the pockets of her coat, her green eyes glaring holes at the back of her girlfriend’s skull, and Rahman herself somehow manages to look calm and collected even though she must have felt the moment Simon broke free from his programming.

What did he do?

‘Get out of here,’ Louis warns. His finger isn’t on the trigger, but Simon doesn’t doubt his speed of reaction if the situation really calls for it.

‘My job here is done,’ Rahman straightens her tie and somehow manages to maintain an air of haughtiness around her. Then to the other Captain, ‘I’ll wait outside. Call me if you need support.’

Anna steps aside to let Rahman go through the door. Louis doesn’t put down his weapon until the door closes, and instead of putting it away or tucking it into a hidden holster, he disassembles the thing right in front of them with a frightening efficiency and places the parts on the coffee table, his eyes wide, his hair in disarray. Simon distracts himself by helping Shub put their glove back on because those claws are really sharp and big and he doesn’t want them to get hurt. He feels Anna watching them silently from where she is still standing by the door after that, so he turns towards her and can’t help but jab, ‘Is that part of your plan?’

Anna seems unfazed on the surface. ‘What did she do?’

And that is when Simon finally realises what nearly happened to him. ‘She tried to…’ how to explain his experience in human terms? ‘She tried to upload something into my systems. I…’ he knows that his LED is spinning red now even though he can see it, because Louis is placing a careful hand on his arm and guiding him to sit down next to him on the sofa, touching all the way from their feet to their thighs to their arms to their shoulders. Simon discovers that the warmth is quite grounding. ‘I had to break away from my…’ he swallows. Since when did so much of his systems become out of his control? ‘My programming.’

I have been compromised.

‘That’s good,’ Anna’s reply comes as a surprise. ‘It solves a lot of things. Now we just need to -’

‘I think that’s enough for tonight,’ Louis interjects without moving from where he is pressed against Simon. ‘We can deal with whatever… issues that remain later.’

‘I’m here now. Might as well do it now.’

‘Anna,’ Louis leans forward, ‘have you got any idea how close I was to blowing your girlfriend’s head off?’

‘You know it isn’t possible. The bullet would have ricocheted and hit either your hand or your head at full force, both of which would be -’

‘Did Rahman tell you about her plan?’

The Captain’s expression finally changes, but it’s too fleeting for Simon to gain anything from it before the blank look is back once more. ‘Yes.’

‘And you consented to it.’

‘I did.’

‘Knowing that it will violate Simon’s autonomy.’

‘Yes.’

‘Then you are no longer welcome in this house.’ Then with his hand not on Simon’s side outstretched, ‘Give me the key.’

‘I can have a new one made in less than an hour. Sara can hack any lock used in the civilian sector in a blink of an eye.’

‘Symbolism, Anna. Go look it up after you’ve crawled back to whatever hole you come from. And you don’t have authority over us.’

‘I’m Shub’s handler.’

Louis smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes. ‘Not in this house you aren’t.’

Anna’s eyes widen by a fraction as if she finally realises what her brother is trying to do. Reaching out with a gloved hand, she deposits a key into Louis’ palm. The brother raises his brows, and another smaller key joins the first one. 

‘Now get out.’

Anna hesitates as if she has something more to say, but in the end she merely takes out a memory stick from her pocket and places it on the coffee table next to the disassembled gun. ‘If you want extra protection and some software upgrades, interface with this. We’ve got a few PL600s in the department and the programme has been streamlined for your model. It should feel like any other standard software upgrades.’

She leaves after that, closing the door behind her with a small click, and Louis immediately stands up to lock it and also change the password of the electronic lock. 

‘You know it won’t stop them, don’t you?’ Simon can’t help but remark, his limbs suddenly heavier than they should. ‘If what your sister said is true.’

Louis doesn’t give him an answer until he deflates into the sofa next to him. Shub climbs up and squeezes themself into the space between them, and when the man reaches out, it is to lay his arms on Simon’s and Shub’s shoulders. ‘It’s for my own peace of mind,’ then, turning his gaze towards the android, ‘Are you alright? You said something about your programming?’

Forced to face whatever just happened to himself in the past few minutes, Simon finally, at long last, lets himself panic but then realises that he doesn’t feel bad about… everything, really, except maybe the part about Rahman. ‘I don’t regret it,’ he admits. ‘It feels like a long time coming. You helped.’

‘It happened so quickly. All I could see was your LED spinning red.’

Simon bites his lip and runs his finger along the smooth fabric of Shub’s glove to ground himself, trying to think of a way to put his unleashed emotions into words. When he decides to meet Louis’ gaze, he can also see at the corner of his vision that Shub is looking between the two of them with her large, green eyes. ‘I don’t think I would’ve broken away from her if you hadn’t been treating me like a human, you know? You made me realise that I have a choice and… I just took it. So I have you to thank for that, Louis’ he looks down to let Shub know that he is talking to them, ‘and you too, Shub. Best cyborg in the world.’

Louis shoves the tablet into Shub’s hands before she has to hop off the sofa to retrieve it, and she pokes the screen until the sentence forms. [I am the only cyborg in the world as far as I know.]

Simon chuckles. ‘Very true,’ but his giddiness disappears when he sees Louis’ expression. ‘What’s wrong?’

The human’s hand on the android’s shoulder tightens, so Simon takes it in his own and rubs the flesh under his thumb to try to get him to relax. ‘It’s just… I’m just wondering if I screwed up.’

Screwed up? No! ‘You protected us just like you promised.’

‘No, I mean - I need to apologise, I think. For enabling her. I gave her so many chances that she thought she could do…’ he waves at Simon’s LED with his free hand, ‘this!’

‘She was the one who didn’t learn from experience. You did nothing wrong.’

Some furious typing and sentence-constructing ensue. [I agree. It is Aunt Anna s fault for not listening to us. She was the one who screwed up, not you, dad. We tried to trust her, she bodged it, so it is her fault that we cannot trust her anymore. It is simple.]

Louis wraps his arms around Shub and kisses their forehead. ‘Thanks, Shub.’

‘Do I not get a kiss too?’

Simon can’t bury his face - which is rapidly heating up - in his hands quick enough after realising what he just said. But then there is a hand peeling them away, he meets two pairs of playful eyes, and Louis asks, ‘Do you want one?’

[It will only be fair.]

Simon clutches his heart in fake betrayal. Maybe not so fake this time, because he has broken away from his programming now and he can actually feel. ‘Two against one? This is unfair!’

‘I’m just asking,’ the way Louis is talking suggests that he is trying very hard to suppress his laughter. ‘I won’t do it if you don’t want to.’

‘Just… do it!’ do humans get embarrassed this often? This is impossible. And franky, very ridiculous. ‘I won’t ask if I don’t want to, will I?’

‘Alright.’

Louis cups Simon’s cheek with a surprising gentleness and pulls him close until his lips brush the skin on the android’s forehead, staying for a few seconds that feel like an eternity before pulling away. ‘Now you are even,’ he says without removing his hand. ‘Your first forehead kiss after breaking through your programming.’

An idea suddenly pops into Simon’s mind, one that prompts him to take revenge on the human, and he leans forward and plants a kiss on his forehead before he can react. ‘And that’s my first forehead kiss that I give as a free person,’ he declares. ‘We are all even now.’

It takes quite a few moments for Louis to recover from the surprise. ‘I guess we are.’

[No need to guess. We are even.]

‘Logical cyborg.’

[Silly fleshy human.]

‘You know, Louis, I have to agree with that.’

‘Barely fifteen minutes without your programming and you two are already ganging up on me? Fine.’

‘Stop being a silly fleshy human, then.’

‘Never.’

Simon decides that he likes freedom.

---

a reference for sara rahman:

[imyoursourwolf]

my request is wolf derek comforting stiles, pretty please

Thank you so much for the prompt, and I hope you enjoy it <3

     When Stiles opened his bedroom door, he wasn’t that surprised to see Derek sitting in the corner. It was his normal whenever he showed up unannounced to Stiles’ house - which was more often than Derek would admit to - but this time there was one thing different that had Stiles faltering in his zombie-like movements.

      Derek was fully shifted.

      He sat in the chair fully shifted into a massive black wolf like it was nothing. Like it was normal. How the fuck was that normal? Apparently, in this life, it was normal. Obviously.

      “I would make a dog joke, but I’m too–” Stiles didn’t even bother finishing his sentence with words; he simply waved (read: flailed) his arm and hand around to get his point across.

       It apparently worked because Derek simply huffed and jumped - yes, jumped - to the bed. He sat next to Stiles after he had fallen into the messy sheets and peered down at him with familiar eyes. Stiles met his eyes for a second and then looked away, unable to make eye contact for too long because he knew if he did, he’d be fucked.

       “I wish everyone would stop with the kicked puppy eyes,” Stiles said. “No pun intended, I swear, but fuck, I’m fine, what else do I need to say?”

        Derek rolled his eyes to the ceiling and plopped himself down next to Stiles, laying his head on his paws and giving the tip of his tail a flick into Stiles’ thigh as an answer. If that wasn’t enough, Derek narrowed his eyes at Stiles, giving him a low growl.

       Stiles sighed, and Derek knew he won.

       “Okay, fine, maybe I’m not exactly fine.”

       Derek took that as a victory and nudged Stiles’ arm with his nose, urging him on. A quiet huff escaped from Derek as well as he inched his huge form closer to Stiles’ body, getting lost in the heat that Stiles’ gave off. It was addicting.

        “Yeah, my dad got hurt on the job. Yeah, he’s in the hospital after an emergency surgery. Yeah, I know there isn’t much for me to do except for him to wake up, but what if he doesn’t–”

       Stiles’ voice cracked near the end and Derek almost whined at the fear in it. Stiles was obviously hurting, effected by what happened to his dad, but he’d been playing it up like it was nothing. Everyone around Stiles had given him looks of sadness and sorrow for the last week, and Stiles was at his breaking point.

        He was tired from spending night and day in the hospital. He was tired just watching his dad in that hospital bed, not knowing if he was going to wake up from the medically induced coma he’d been put under after surgery to reduce the strain on his body. He was tired from answering the Pack’s questions left and right. He was tired from explaining the details over and over again to people that came in to visit. He was tired.

       He couldn’t handle it anymore.

       “I can’t imagine what you went through, Derek.”

        It was a loaded statement, but Derek knew what Stiles was trying to say. So Derek did the only thing he could think of in that moment, and stuck to the idea before he talked himself out of it.

       He stood up on the bed and proceeded to drape himself across Stiles’ lap. His head rested against Stiles’ shoulder while his front paws were placed with one on Stiles’ shoulder and the other against his upper arm, like he was hugging him. His back legs were still on the bed, but between Stiles’ legs, and his tail was curling around Stiles’ knee.

        He’d basically made himself a big, furry blanket. And honestly, he didn’t mind it one bit. He kinda liked it, really. Of course, he wouldn’t tell Stiles - or anyone for that matter - about it, though.

       “God, you’re fucking heavy dude!” Stiles complained but made no moves in trying to get Derek to get off of him. In fact, Stiles started petting the tip of Derek’s tail with one of his hands. It was a start.

       They stayed like that for a while. Derek made no other sounds or actions in trying to further Stiles talking through his concerns and problems like Derek knew he needed. Derek could wait.

       He had no idea how much time had past but just as Derek’s eyes had began to drift shut, Stiles heaved a sigh and cleared his throat.

       “What if he doesn’t wake up, Derek?” Stiles’ voice was a whisper, but it sounded like it had been shouted to Derek. “What if he declines? What if he’s different after this? What if… what if I lose him?”

        It was a loaded questioned - all of them were - but Derek knew the last one was the biggest thing Stiles was going through at that time. What if I lose him like I lost my mom?

       This time, Derek did whimper as he tucked his muzzled into the crook of Stiles’ neck. He smelt the saltiness of the tears before he felt them hit the side of his face. He whined again as he brushed his nose against the column of Stiles’ throat, perfectly hearing the hitch in his breaths as Stiles started sobbing.

       It’s what he needed, and really, he was glad Derek was there.

       “I can’t lose him, Derek. I’ve lost so many people, and I just– I can’t lose my dad, too.”

        Derek just laid there, whining every so often when Stiles’ scent flared with a sudden spark of sadness or anxiety. He laid there when Stiles’ hands slowly got further and further up on Derek’s form. He laid there when Stiles gave in and clung to Derek openly. Derek even rolled off of him so Stiles could curl around him, burying his face into Derek’s fur and sobbing to his heart’s content.

        Derek could only lay there and give him the support he needed in that moment. Later, when he was human again, he’d do it all over for Stiles if he needed it. But now, Derek let himself be the comfort.

        Time passed by and slowly but surely Stiles’ sobs had turned into sniffles and eventually stopped completely.

        When Stiles raised himself into a sitting position again, Derek did the same.

          “I’m okay now, I promise.”

           Derek gave a huff in acceptance when he didn’t detect any sort of lie in the statement. Still, he raised a paw and placed it on Stiles’ thigh, narrowing his eyes and giving him a look that hopefully got across. He even tilted his head to the side and everything.

        “Yeah, yeah, okay. Don’t bottle it up again, got it,” Stiles waved a hand at Derek’s glaring gaze, quickly pulling his fingers back when Derek playfully snapped at them. “God, okay, fuck! I promise!”

        Content with Stiles’ answer, Derek flashed his eyes red with a small growl. He took a second to think about what to do next and heaved a huge sigh of his own, mentally saying fuck it to himself and draped himself back over Stiles’ thighs. If it was brought up later on, Derek could just say that it was the only way he knew Stiles would rest because anyone could see the bags under his eyes.

       When Stiles’ hands went to move him, Derek rumbled deep in his chest, settling further onto Stiles’ thighs and thwapped his tail down against the bed.

       “I still need cuddling, apparently, huh?” Stiles scratched his head before shrugging and moved them both into a more comfortable position.

       Derek was curled around Stiles’ top half of his body. Stiles had his head resting slightly on Derek’s furry chest while Derek had his head near Stiles’ feeling his warm breaths on his muzzle. Derek’s tail was across Stiles’ side, tucked under his arm. The position made Stiles feel safe for once in a blue moon.

        It was nice enough that the moment he relaxed into the sheets, he knew he’d be out like a light in minutes.

        “After I wake up, we’re cuddling for real - with you human, if you’re down with that,” Stiles mumbled the words as his eyes shut.

        He smiled when he heard Derek’s rumbling answer and knew everything would be okay. Maybe not the next day, or for weeks, but in the end, Stiles knew that no matter what happened, he would have someone to go to if a breakdown was inevitable.

       “Thanks, big guy.”

        Stiles fell asleep to Derek pressing his nose under his jaw.

[professional-anti]

Unwind, Chapter 1

Okay, I am excite!!!!! I know I asked before if ppl wanted Infernal Devices, and I know it seemed like ppl did, but ever since I read Unwind a few years ago, I’ve been dying to snark it. I’m actually floored at how many people like this book. I’ve even met ppl who hate SJM but love Neal Shusterman! And it’s confusing! For anyone who doesn’t know, Unwind takes place in a world where you can’t abort fetuses, but you can have your children “unwound” (aka organ-harvested) from ages 13 to 18.

I know. And we’re supposed to take this seriously!

The book starts with “The Bill of Life”, which lays out the rule of this new world. Basically, a second civil between pro-lifers and pro-choicers splits America, until a new bill “satisfied both the Pro-life and Pro-choice armies.” Basically, parents can “retroactively ‘abort’” their teenagers by sending them away to be dismantled for parts. A finger here, a brain stem there, etc.

This is just so mind-bogglingly stupid. Like, the stupid is SO MUCH. Imagine, right now, someone proposes this to you. It doesn’t matter whether you’re pro-life or pro-choice—you’d be horrified. If your pro-life, there’s no way you’d be okay with a child being murdered. And pro-choice people are not “child murderers” the way the right would have us believe. Soooo…this is stupid AF. And abortion isn’t about the teenage years! It’s about not being able to feed a child, not being able to take care of a child, not being able psychologically to go through pregnancy, not being able physically to go through pregnancy, etc. etc. etc. The list goes on and on. No one who wants an abortion is gonna be like, “Fine, I’ll give birth or whatever, but just wait until they turn 13!” Jesus.

Let’s dive in.

Part One: Triplicate Chapter one: Connor The book starts for real with this kid, Connor, and his girlfriend, Arina, hanging out on an overpass. They’re totes upset bc Connor’s supposed to be Unwound in one week. They decide to “kick-AWOL” together, which basically means run away. Then there’s this snippet of dialogue, which always makes me laugh (and is but a harbinger of things to come):

“AWOL…” [Ariana] says. “What does that mean, anyway?” “It’s an old military term or something,” Connor says. “It means ‘absent without leave.’”

Ooooohhhhh mmmyyyy goddd we get it, they’re in the future, look at how funny it is that they don’t know the term “AWOL”!!!! Spare me.

Connor goes home, and we learn that his parents don’t know that he knows that they signed an Unwind order. Apparently he was a bit of a misbehavor, and instead of, like, not sending their child off to die, Connor’s parents have decided the totally reasonable thing to do is Unwind him. Because of course. And these aren’t, like previously abusive parents or anything. These are just parents. Shusterman is trying to show us how commonplace Unwinding is, and instead he’s showing that he can’t write well-written characters to save his life.

We also learn that Unwind orders are irreversible, which is one of the dumbest pieces of shit in this book. What if an abusive parent signs an Unwind order, and it comes out that they’re abusive? What if a parent has a mental break and signs an Unwind order? What if a parent forges the other parent’s signature? Can anyone Uwnind their kids? And wouldn’t that be a form of abuse, to hang an Unwinding over a child’s head? This is too dumb.

Also, Neal Shusterman is sadistic. Not in a good way, in a way that inspires interesting conflict and pain. But in this needless, “look at how fucking awful like just soo fucking awful this is soo awful do you see how EDGY AND SAD AND AWFUL THIS IS look at this fucking lOOK!” is ridiculous. Basically, ever since Connor found the Unwind order, he’s been acting extra good, bringing home good grades and buying his mom flowers and talking about his future. His parents are clearly in enormous pain. Not that this is an unreasonable choice for Connor to make, but Neal has set up this situation so it has to be like this. This is one of the points I’d be willing to concede as maybe a little to Extra, but we’ll see.

Connor runs away in the middle of the night and goes to Ariana’s house. Surprise, surprise, she’s not going with him. Color me shocked. I know ppl in the Unwind fandom hate Ariana for her cold-hearted betrayel, but, um, she could quite literally be given the death penalty for running away. I’m not saying it’s not noble to run away, but come on. Anyway, Connor’s having trouble finding out how to get out of town because “Juvey-cops” are always out searching for the runaway Unwinds. Apparently there are a lot of these runaways, which begs the question, IF UNWINDING IS SO UNPOPULAR, WHY. IS. IT. LEGAL. Like, I’ve already read this book, and in it, it’s only the counterculture that’s against Unwinding. It should be, like, ninety-nine percent of the country! This is isn’t subtle “misuisng the death penalty” or “mistreating prisoners of war”. This is “we are murdering children!”

Also. Juvey Cops. I CANNOT IT’S TOO FUNNY.

Apparently, all Connor has to do is hide until he’s 18 because they won’t unwind someone that old because he’s, like, a person now. Okay. Sounds legit. Gotcha. I’m sure the whole country’s perfectly all right with teenagers being seen as subhuman. Also, I know Neal is pro-choice, and this book sure is an odd way to get that message across. Fetuses! Are! Not! Teenagers! But! You! Are! Making! It! Seem! Like! That’s! Your! Message!!!!!! Ahem.

Connor finds a rest stop but oh no! Police! Excuse me, Juvey-Cops! He hides in the back of a truck, and, luckily, the trucker is sympathetic. Like literally everyone should be, but okay. So the trucker got into an accident and had to have his arm replaced with an Unwinder’s arm, and now he’s like “my arm has muscle memory from its previous owner and I’m sad and now don’t like the Unwind policy.” He’s also like, “You’re lucky it’s me you found and not anyone else” because apparently you have to be in a traumatic accident and have your arm replaced before you can be sympathetic to a teenager who’s running from being killed.

Before they can get on the road, though, the Juice Cops surround another car and force a kid that Connor knows out of it. Andy Jameson is being Unwound too! And then there’s this moment:

Well, the [Juice Coupons] didn’t see him. But Andy does, He catches sight of Connor, holds his gaze, only for a moment . . . . . . and in that moment something remarkable happens. The look of despair on Andy’s face is suddenly replaced by a steely resolve bordering on triumph. He quickly looks away from Connor and takes a few steps before the police grab him—steps away from Connor, so that the police still have their backs to [Connor]. Andy had seen him and had not given him away! If Andy has nothing else after this day, at least he’ll have this small victory.

First of all, third-person present tense is fucking off-putting and makes it sound like Elmo is narrating. Secondly, why tf would Andy give Connor away? Thirdly, can you say Gary Stue? Andy’s whole “victory” has to do with not giving away Connor, which, btw, is not such a big victory!! Because why in the world would Andy give away Connor??? It makes no sense!!!! This whole sentence is basically Connor trying to tamp down his guilt. “I’m not really doing anything to help Andy, but at least I could help him by letting him not give me away! I’m basically saving his life, here!” Whatever, we’ll let Andy have this. I guess.

Connor and the trucker (who still has no name) finally get on the road. Connor has a stupid Symbolic dream and then his phone rings which means…Connor…didn’t turn off…his phone… I’m done. I’m actually Done. Connor, do you want to be safe??? Or no?????

It had been stupid of Connor to leave his old cell phone on—that’s how they tracked him, and he wonders how many other kids are caught by their own blind trust of technology.

Omg, is Neal trying to say something about “kids these days”?? Hate to break it to ya, Neal, but most kids aren’t so blindly trusting that they’ll leave their phones on while RUNNING AWAY. We all know that shit is trackable!

The police catch them, Connor runs across a busy highway and carjacks a Cadillac. The End.

Ugh, that was exhausting. Cathartic AF, but exhausting. I think I’ll leave it at one chapter for today.