#and i had a hard time trying to adjust my english to that level

[homohamlet]

today was my last day as an EFL (english as a foreign language) teacher intern, and I got some cashew juice and cashew nuts (which are very typical for my region in brazil) from my students! I even did a speech at the end of the lesson trying to motivate them to keep learning english and gave them some tips. they were all very sweet, and I wish them the very best, especially considering this was the first time I taught anyone lessons.

[filmologetica]

I’LL MAKE YOU FORGET YOU’RE GAY — soldier boy

pairing: soldier boy x demigod!reader

the one where: the reader tries to make a tiktok with ben.

warnings: +18. soldier boy (y’all know he’s pretty much a warning himself), language, mentions of sex, established relationship, a little bit of grumpy x sunshine.

a/n: english is not my first language and this is my first time writing.

Ben was aware you were awake for quite some time now. He knew that because even from far away in the big apartment he could not only hear your giggles while still in bed, but he could also hear all the Tiktoks you were watching. Which, by the way, he thought was the stupidest thing ever created.

He drank his coffee silently on the couch, trying to focus on the newspaper in hand. The whole supe thing was a lot, but the super hearing was what got him the most. Living in New York was noisy enough for humans, let alone for superheroes. Sometimes it took him quite a while to be able to focus on what he wanted, and you knew exactly how frustrating that could be, after all, being a supe wasn’t easy on anyone you’ve ever seen. Your case was slightly different. You weren’t a supe after all, just a demigod.

“Morning, handsome.” You purred, hugging Ben from behind on the couch and kissing his cheek before hiding your face in the crook of his neck. “Bed’s so cold without you.”

“You’re a daughter of Apollo.” He says, without even looking away from the paper.

“So? You’re a different level of hot.” Ben can’t hide the smirk on his face after hearing you. Leaving the cup on the center table and the paper on the couch, he looks at you, pulling you to his lap.

“Yeah, that’s what I’ve heard around.” You can’t help but roll your eyes. He winks at you, nonchalantly. “Thought you were gonna spend all day watching those stupid fucking videos. How are you fucking able to see the same fucking thing over and over again and still find it fucking funny?”

“Dear gods, how can you kiss me with that mouth?!” You playfully push his shoulder with a frown.

“You know I can do so much more with that mouth, Doll.” You could feel his voice getting lower and his hands start to roam over your naked legs. “Need a reminder?”

“Maybe I do.” You moved your hips a little, adjusting your positions making your ass fit perfectly where you could feel his cock. “Let’s make a deal. I’ll grant you the best head you’ve ever had-”

“Deal.”

“Let me finish!” You roll your eyes once again. “I’ll give you the best head you’ve ever had if you make a tiktok with me.”

“Fuck no.” Ben pushed you out of his lap, grabbing the empty cup and taking it to the kitchen.

“Please!”

“No.”

You followed him around like a lost puppy. “It’s a free blowjob!”

“Well, I already get lots of these. Think of something better.” Ben crossed his arms looking at you with no hints of humor.

“Period sex?” You knew how hard it was for him to spend days without fucking you when you had your period.

“Done that.” He slapped your ass before leaving the kitchen unimpressed.

“ANAL!” You yelled and Ben stopped in his tracks. Turning around slowly you regretted the whole conversation. He watched you smirking mischievously. That dirty look on his face making your panties wet.

“Grab your fucking phone, Sunshine.”

Positioning your phone at the center table was easy. The image was good and clear. You were sitting on the couch wearing one of Ben’s big shirts and he had an amused face thinking about how easy it was going to be. But well, you had your tricks.

Pressing the record button, you were fast with your words. “Ok. So, this is a simple trick I’ve learned on Tiktok and it actually works. Ready?”

Ben frowned in his place, moving closer to the camera with full attention and no idea what you were talking about or what was about to happen. “I guess.”

“From the minute I snap my fingers you’ll forget you’re gay.” Snap.

The look on Ben’s face was confused as hell. “What? I’m not gay!”

“IT WORKS!” You laughed amazed with the scene. Maybe dating an old men was really fun after all.

“What works? I’m not fucking gay, Y/N.”

“You really forgot! Oh, gods! That’s amazing.”

“Yeah, I’ll show you how gay I am while my fucking cock is deep inside that pretty little ass of yours fucking you raw.”

And you pressed the button to stop.

[theslut4smut]

𝘁𝘂𝘁𝗼𝗿 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗯𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗳𝗶𝘁𝘀 | 𝗸𝗶𝗺 𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗺𝗶𝗻

𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗴𝗼𝗿𝘆: smut

𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻: y/n is struggling with learning korean and seungmin is here to help! with some extra motivation 😉

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 3.7k

𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗹𝘂𝗱𝗲𝘀: afab reader, dom!seungmin, sub!reader, established relationship, non-idol au, kissing, teasing, slight degradation and hitting, a sprinkle of pussy slap, face and finger fucking, hair pulling, penetrative and unprotected sex

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀: anything bolded means that i typed it in english, but the characters say it in korean

i didn’t want to type a full on foreign language since i know that can be a lil intimidating to read and i also feel that it’s disrespectful? of me? since i don’t speak that language? okay! 🩷

_____________________________________

“y/n, i know you can do better than that.” seungmin shakes his head slightly as his brown eyes lock onto yours.

you huff before throwing your head back. “seungmin, i’m just not meant to learn korean. i’ve been trying at it for months now and it’s not sticking.”

you slump further into the comfy sofa the two of you were sitting on as you let out a groan.

“too bad. i’m not letting you give up this easily just because you messed up a few times.” he responds.

“seungmin!” you whine.

“y/n!” he mocks.

you glare at him before rolling your eyes.

“try to remember why you wanted this. what drives you to increase your fluency?”

“i don’t know.” you quickly respond, messing with the fabric of your shorts.

“y/n.” he says firmly.

you groan once more.

“mm...” you bite your lip as you look around the room. “i really wanna have more meaningful and deeper conversations with the guys. like minho or jeongin.”

“there you go.” he says, pointing at you.

“and those shows you watch.” you start, sitting up. “i wanna be able to understand what’s going on instead of just laughing whenever i see you laugh.”

he stifles a laugh.

“it’s not funny!” you say with a faux pout.

“i didn’t say it was funny, y/n. it’s endearing, actually.” he tilts his head to the side. “is that all?”

you feel the warmth of embarrassment cloud the skin of your cheeks as you begin picking at your nails.

“well… i wanna talk to you.” you start, looking at him with slight embarrassment.

he raises his brows. “you’re going to have to further elaborate, y/n.”

he was such an asshole sometimes. he knew exactly what you meant. but you knew he wouldn’t let you get away with having him say it for you.

“i… wanna use it during our… intimate moments.”

you could feel his eyes burning into the side of your face as you avoid looking at him.

it’s not like this was a new thing for the two of you. you had been together for awhile now and had explored each other sexually more times than you could count.

there was just something about this that made you feel so shy.

“is that so?” he finally speaks.

you bury your face into one of the pillows next to you as you made an uncomfortable whimper of some sort.

“no, no. look at me.” he reaches over and redirects your gaze back onto him.

you stare up at him bashfully as he held your face firmly in his grasp.

“you know i’d love that for us. having my pretty girl talk dirty to me in a different language? gets me worked about just thinking about it.” he stops to press his forehead against yours. “but how do you expect to be on that level when you can’t even properly introduce yourself?”

you push him off of you, causing him to laugh loudly.

“you’re a dick.” you snap, crossing your arms.

“y/n.” he sighs, sitting up and adjusting the wrinkles your shove left in his shirt. “i’m not trying to be mean. i just want you to do your best. you’re being really insecure about the whole thing and that’s only hindering your progress.”

“it’s hard, seungmin. i can’t get my brain to retain anything.”

it’s silent for a moment as seungmin taps his chin in thought.

“you’re just not motivated enough.” he says.

you glare at him. “did i not just tell you all of the reasons i started this whole language learning bullshit?”

“no, no.” he closes his eyes as he shakes his head. “those are all long term goals. they’re not obtainable until you’ve reached proper fluency, which then leads you to feel discouraged because of how far out of reach they seem.”

you look at him with slight confusion.

“how about this.” he starts, biting the inside of his cheek. “for every answer you get correct, you get a kiss.”

you perk up, a wide smile decorating your face.

he holds a finger up at you, signaling there was more.

you furrow your brows at him.

“i believe that training yourself should require both rewards and punishments.”

oh god.

here he goes again. being a big meanie.

“you’ll get your kiss from me when you get something right, but if you don’t… that’s one item of clothing from me off.” he smirks as he looks into your eyes. “and you have to keep your hands to yourself.”

your jaw drops. “that’s not fair! you know i can’t stand the teasing, seungmin. that’s just gonna distract me even more.”

“you have to learn one way or another.” he shrugs. “and i feel this will be the most effective for you.”

this was just great.

seungmin knew how easy you were. how the littlest thing had you so desperate and needy for him.

he was stubborn too. which meant no getting out of it.

you knew that you better get it together and start saying some correct answers, or else you’d be feeling the pain of deprivation.

“alright, come on. i need you to focus.” seungmin says.

you let out a small and shaky breath as you got into a more comfortable position on the sofa.

“alright, we’re meeting for the first time. how would you introduce yourself to me?” he asks.

you bite your lip as you look around. “formal or informal?”

he smiles as he grabs your face and kisses your lips tenderly. “ah, you get a kiss for that one. i wasn’t even thinking.” you bat your lashes up at him with a sweet smile before he continues. “let’s do formal.”

you clear your throat as you straighten your posture. “um… hello… my name is y/n.”

he chuckles softly before placing his hands on either side of your waist. “baby, you don’t have to be so nervous. it’s just me.”

you close your eyes as you let out a sigh.

“don’t let that discourage you.” he starts, caressing the side of your cheek. “i just want you to relax.”

“okay.” you say.

“why don’t you try that sentence again? this time with more confidence.”

you nod before taking another deep breath.

“hello, my name is y/n.”

he smiles before pecking your nose.

you pout, causing him to furrow his brows. “what?”

“just a nose kiss? at least give me one on my lips!”

he shrugs. “all you did was introduce yourself. nothing too impressive.”

you cross your arms. “some encouraging teacher you are.” you roll your eyes.

seungmin sighs as he shakes his head at your ridiculousness.

“now.” he starts, clearing his throat and adjusting himself on the sofa. “tell me about yourself. how old you are, any hobbies. things like that.”

you bite your nails as you rack through your brain, trying to remember all of the words and vocabulary seungmin had taught you over the last few months.

“um, i’m- i mean, i am… thirty years old.” you give him a small smile, awaiting his response.

he tilts his head to the side. “you’re thirty?”

you gasp, burying your face in your hands. “the numbers are so hard to remember!”

he clicks his tongue before making a tsking sound. “you know what that means.”

seungmin pulls his t-shirt over his head, tossing it to the side before leaning back into the sofa.

it’s just his chest. just his olive toned, soft, lovely chest. you feel your heart rate quicken.

he smirks knowingly, cocking an eyebrow. “what do you like to do in your free time?”

you close your eyes for a moment, trying to calm yourself down. why did you have to be so weak for this man?

“i enjoy baking.” you respond, eyes still squeezed shut.

“oh? what’s your favorite dessert?”

your eyes snap open, looking at your boyfriend. “how am i supposed to know what you’re saying?!”

“how are you supposed to learn if you’re only being asked questions in english? that’s not realistic. you know what i’m saying, y/n. break apart the sentence and figure out the words you know.”

you take a deep breath as you picture what he’s saying, picking out the words that you do recognize until you’ve created a somewhat sentence of your own in your mind.

“[favorite dessert]”

he smirks slightly, nodding his head. “very good.” he places a kiss on your lips. his fingers ghost over your skin as he does, never getting too close.

it left you yearning for more. how could he just kiss you and leave it at that? he surely couldn’t go on for much longer. but you knew kim seungmin; stubborn and aware of his affect on you.

“what are your plans for the day?” he asks.

you glare at him, causing him to laugh softly.

“seungmin-” “what are your plans for the day?”

he gestures for you to speak.

you groan before rolling your eyes. “breaking up with my boyfriend.”

“hey.” he starts, furrowing his brows. “you don’t get to be mean to me in a language you can’t even properly say your age in.”

you sigh and shake your head. this small talk was not going to do it for you.

“have you eaten?”

you whimper softly and involuntarily at the thought of how long this could last, causing his mischievous smirk to widen and dick to twitch.

“how are you feeling today?” he changes the question and gets closer to you, rubbing your inner thighs while gently touching the side of your neck with the tip of his nose. you feel his breath fanning on your collarbone, causing goosebumps to paint the surface of your skin.

you shiver, placing your hand on top of his. “y-you said no touching.”

“i didn’t say anything about me touching you, did i?” he raises his brows at you. you bite your lip, feeling as if you could cry at just how worked up you were.

“now, answer my question.”

you let a shaky breath out. “i’m feeling frustrated.”

“awe, why?” he nibbles at your ear while cooing.

“you’re so mean, minnie.” you say softly, squeezing your legs together as you try to fight the throbbing pain in between.

“let’s set up a little scenario.” he starts, playing with the outline of his dick in his sweatpants, making your mouth water. “you want something really bad. but, you have to ask me for it. how would you say it?”

you let out a whine, quickly getting up from the couch.

seungmin places a firm grip onto your arm and pulls you down. you give him a shove, turning away from him.

he pins both of your hands down before grabbing your jaw and forcing you to look at him. “you are not giving up. you cried and cried about how much this meant to you and now you’re acting like a brat. how many times am i going to have to put you in your place before you realize that you don’t always get your way with me?”

you begin breathing quickly as your head spins.

he places a hand on your rising chest, looking into your eyes. “beg for it.”

you open your mouth to speak, only to be cut off by a moan slipping out. you look down to see seungmin’s knee firmly pressed against your thinly clothed core and grinding.

you look up to him, panting. he cocks an eyebrow as he waits for your answer.

“i-i need you, p-please.” you swallow and release a shaky and desperate breath. “i need you so bad.”

“oh.” he coos. “would you look at that? struggling to make simple conversation, but you sure know how to beg, don’t you?” he places a firm slap on your thigh, causing you to cry out.

“so nasty and desperate all of the time, aren’t you?” he says, yanking your pajama shorts off.

one less layer made you realize just how wet you were. if only seungmin could be as easy as you were. one look at your swollen and eager sex would have him practically clawing at you. his lips would be on yours while his cock was stuffed inside of you, filling and stretching out your warm walls.

the sting of another slap causes you to snap away from your heavenly thoughts and moan, this time right on your pussy.

“i asked you a question.” he snaps.

you take a moment, truly trying to remember what.

“y-yes, seungmin.” you whine. “so nasty, just for you.”

you lean in to kiss him, only for him to stop you with two single fingers against your lips. you pout.

“what did you do to deserve your kiss?” he looks down at you as he speaks.

“i’ve been good. so, so good.” you grab onto his torso desperately, pulling him closer.

he scoffs before pushing your hands off of him.

“seungmin!” you whine, arching your back as you try to get some relief.

he grabs your face firmly, squishing your cheeks together as he does. “all you do is bitch and complain. why don’t you put that mouth to good use for once?”

before you could say anything, he re-positions you to your knees on the couch, quickly removing both pairs of bottoms he still had on.

you weren’t going to tell him that he was the one who was technically giving in. that he was the one who was giving into you. that you hadn’t gotten enough answers incorrect for him to even fully undress yet.

for once, you got the better of him. he couldn’t control himself over you.

but you couldn’t tell him that he lost. you needed him too bad to risk him realizing his mistake and making you wait even longer.

“stick your tongue out.” he speaks soft, yet firm.

you quickly oblige, putting the wet and soft muscle on full display for him. you bat your pretty lashes up at him, knowing how crazy it drove him.

he slaps his dick on it a couple of times, causing strings of your spit and his pre-cum to stick together. he hisses at the sinful sight.

he sticks his length in and pushes until he hits the back of your throat. you cough, trying to pull away.

“ah.” he holds you by the throat. “this is what you wanted. you don’t get to run from me.”

he teases you by continuing to dip in and out of your warm and soft throat. quick and deep touches to your uvula that causes you to gag before he pulls out again.

“tell me you who belong to.” he orders through gritted teeth.

you let out another gag as he pulls out. “you.” you say breathlessly.

“in korean.” he places his dick in your mouth again, making it to where you only had a few seconds in between to speak.

“i’m yours.” gag. “i belong.” gag. “to you.”

“yes you do.” he inserts himself fully, this time grabbing a handful of your hair before thrusting in and out quickly.

you choke as he fucks your throat at a rapid pace, feeling your slick pooling underneath you.

drool and mascara stain your oversized top as he continues his movements.

he rubs his palm over you throat, loving the feeling of his bulge through the skin.

you lose yourself to the feeling of slight oxygen restriction, the way he twitched and throbbed in your mouth, his strong grip on your face. there was no better feeling than being dominated by seungmin.

the trance like state you were in had you completely unaware that he was no longer in your mouth and that you were now lying on your back.

he quickly puts the both of you into the spooning position before lifting the leg of yours closest to him and running his two middle fingers up and down your drenched slit.

“m-minnie.” you say, eyes rolling back.

“should i give you the satisfaction?” he asks, teasingly. “you really didn’t work that hard today.”

you begin to bable incoherent words, far past the point of understanding and clearly deep in subspace.

he finally fulfills your craving as he leans down and captures your lips into a deep and passionate kiss.

you moan into his mouth.

his two digits make their way inside of your needy cunt, causing you to break the kiss as you sing in ecstasy.

there’s no preparation or warming up as he immediately pumps his fingers in and out of you, filling the room with the lewd sound of your squelching heat.

it reminds you of how shy you used to be with seungmin. how he had to create this slut that you’ve become. he likes to say it’s always been there and that he just brought it out of you, but it didn’t matter anymore.

this state of vulnerability would have your past self red in the face and full of embarrassment. the way you obey every command he has, fulfill any of his wishes, let him control you both mentally and physically.

it made you so hot for him.

you squeal as you feel the intense build up of an orgasm, grabbing onto his forearm as a way to ground yourself.

he removes his fingers and stands on his knees.

“n-no! minnie, minnie!” you claw at his arms, too desperate to notice that he’s actually just moving you onto your tummy.

he laughs like the little shit he is as he takes in your fucked out state all caused by him. he loves it too much.

he arches your back before lifting your ass up to him, rubbing the tip of his dick at your entrance.

you mindlessly grind against him, your eyes closed as you try to focus on your own pleasure.

“awe.” he coos, stroking your sweaty and tangled locks. “so needy. impatient.” he yanks a fistful of hair, causing your head to jerk back.

you moan loudly.

“you think you can fuck yourself the way i do? go ahead. show me.”

you whine like a bitch in heat before inserting his long length into you, sloppily circling your hips.

he laughs and shakes his head at your cute yet poor attempt to satisfy yourself.

he knew that he ruined you a long time ago. your vibrator would never be his tongue, your fingers would never be his, those flimsy and lifeless dildos would never hit every spot inside of you the way his dick did.

but it was adorable to watch you try.

"it's not easy, is it?" he asks.

“no.” you cry, genuine tears slipping past your lashline, making your cheeks a sticky and pink mess.

“i know it’s not, baby.” he says softly, placing his hands on your hips. “you require a lot to please. not just anyone can do it. not even you.”

you feel a shiver run up your spine at his words.

“why don’t you thank me, huh?” he wipes your pitiful tears before placing a gentle kiss on your cheek. “thank me for always being able to take care of you. being so good to you.”

“in korean?” you ask, grinding harder on his length.

“there you go. already catching on. so much smarter than you lead everyone to believe.” he massages the skin of your hips roughly, causing you to squeeze and contract on his cock.

“t-thank you so much. for always taking care of me. and treating me good.”

“good girl.” he whispers as he slowly begins to thrust in and out.

the feeling causes your mind to go blank as you take in the addictive sensation of his length brushing past every surface of your sensitive walls.

“keep going.”

“thank you for being so amazing. so handsome and smart. you’re- you’re the greatest i could ever have.”

you gasp as he snaps his hips into you, beginning his intense pounding as he grabs onto your hair once again.

“ah! y-yes, seungmin!” you cry out, grabbing onto the hand of his that was pressed into the couch.

all of his prior teasing made it to where you knew you weren’t going to last another second of him inside of you. he had just started, but you already felt your previously denied orgasm making a much stronger comeback.

“m-min, i’m gonna cum!” you scream, digging your nails into his skin.

“what do you say when you want something?” he responds breathlessly, feeling his peak approaching as well.

“please! please, please, please!”

he feels himself throb at you remembering to use korean without him asking.

“fuck, cum.” he demands.

stars cloud your vision as you release onto his hard cock, the screams and cries falling from your lips most likely being heard from planets away.

he spills inside of you with a groan, gently fucking you through your orgasm and allowing you to come back down.

you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

“oh my god.” you say softly, closing your eyes as you exhale.

he flips you onto your back before cuddling up with you, peppering your face with kisses.

seungmin giggles against your skin. “that was pretty good, huh?”

you playfully glare at him.

“you know.” he starts, placing his chin on your chest as he looks up to you with his cute puppy eyes. “you sure knew a lot of what to say. i think you’re better than you give yourself credit for.”

“or maybe i’ve just studied things to say when you’re fucking me instead of the basics like i should be.” you respond with a smile.

he rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

he places a kiss onto your lips. this one different from the rest. soft and filled with love. you smile onto his lips.

“you really are more capable than you think. you just need to apply yourself more. i’m serious about not letting you give up.” he points at you, raising his brows.

“yeah, yeah. i know.” you lay his head back down. “korean lessons are over for the day. now it’s cuddle time.”

“same time tomorrow, though.” he says.

you cover his face with a pillow.

“i’m serious!” his muffled voice yells.

[updownlately]

make me yours my love (cause you’re nobody to me, yet somebody to me)

| alessia russo x reader | fluff (tooth-rotting fluff) | 4.5k | a/n: heard a song from another language, got obsessed with it, translated it to english, and wrote a fic. ended up losing the plot half way through and bs-ed the rest over the course of a week. anyways, i hate it, here you go.

~~~

You had never thought you’d leave North America. It was where you grew up. Where you’d had your best and worst times. It was home.

And when you had moved to Seattle from Vancouver to join the OL Reign, you thought that playing in the NWSL would be your greatest achievement, never expecting anything outrageous to occur, never daring to entertain the idea that you would ever venture any farther away from home. Thus, you clearly didn’t account for your hard work to actually pay off and for you to attract the attention of European clubs with the likes of Manchester City, Aston Villa, or Manchester United.

Even with your hesitance on leaving the continent, you had accepted United's offer almost as soon as it had come through, only waiting to double check with Sue and Megan on what their thoughts were. Of course the two women you saw as parental figures had freaked out on your behalf. They didn’t need to say it verbally but with the way they supported you as you virtually signed the contract and got ready to move showed you how incredibly proud they were of you for not only continuing to rise to a higher level in your career, but for pushing yourself out of your comfort zone.

But when the offer to extend your single year contract into a three year came, however, it wasn’t Sue, Megan, or anyone else back home who played a role in your decision. Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly as some of the training staff would say, it was your United teammates that unknowingly convinced you to stay.

In the single year you had spent with them, they had welcomed you with open arms, taking you in as one of their own. 

Zelem and Mary had become your unofficial team moms, making sure you never got into too much trouble whilst Tooney, Millie, Leah, and the other girls had practically become your sisters. And of course, you had Alessia. Sweet, clumsy, back heel queen Alessia had become one of your closest friends in the new city, her being one of the only few people your introverted self had felt fully comfortable around.

You never understood why or how you were able to so quickly feel so relaxed around the tall girl, you typically being quite shy and reserved with new people, but you definitely weren’t complaining.

Moving countries, much less continents, was never easy, but with Alessia beside you since day one, it had never been too difficult.

Since the day that you had awkwardly waved hi to the United girls and attended your first official WSL practice, Alessia hadn’t left your side once. In fact, within the first few weeks of you being in England, the rest of the girls had established that wherever Alessia was, you were and vice versa, one rarely being found without the other.

Through the homesickness, loneliness, anxiety, and at one point, even depression, she had been there next to you. Be it picking you up and dropping you off from practice, bringing over home cooked meals, or tours around the city, she’d been your rock as you struggled but finally adjusted to being alone again. 

And when city tours turned into trying new restaurants together and her dropping off home cooked meals led to bi-weekly movie nights with Alessia’s heavenly dinners or take out, you both never acknowledged how much you cared for each other. Really though, you didn’t have to. A blind person could feel the love that you both radiated for each other.

It was spoken through the way Alessia had become less clumsy over the months, with you now there to catch her. To pull her aside before she could crash into a defensive training dummy. To ensure that her laces were tied and she was aware every time the ground was raised or there was a kerb to watch out for.

Alessia told you she cared when she’d hold you tightly against her chest, after every hard game, practice, or just day. The height difference between your 5’3'' and her 5’9'' was near comical but neither of you minded. If anything, in your opinion, it just made the hugs better since you could bury your face in her neck and block out the world for a few minutes. If Alessia minded, she surely didn’t say a word to you. You didn’t know it but if Alessia was completely honest to herself, she truly loved when you’d hug her. She absolutely adored the way you’d hide your face as you’d hug her, you standing on your tiptoes to comfortably rest your head in the crook of her neck, letting only her see you break, trusting her so easily, warming her heart each time.

You’d whisper the depths of your care when you’d let her lean on you during your movie nights, carding your fingers through her hair when you knew she was on the brink of sleep. In the way you’d slowly manoeuvre both yourself and her into a more comfortable position, her often ending up curled up on top of you, not that you minded at all, welcoming her warmth. How you’d ignore the inevitable stiff neck you would always wake up with since you’d always watch movies in the living room. In your eyes, the pain was always going to be worth seeing the blonde hugging you tightly whilst she slept on your chest.

The star striker would whisper her care ever so softly, staying on call with you during the nights where you missed Seattle a bit too much. When she’d bring you your favourite coffee the next morning, knowing that you’d be tired from your mind running the night before. When she’d drive you to practise, putting on your favourite playlists for the fatigue ridden ride, without you so much as having to ask, her knowing you almost as well as she knew herself.

You both had eventually become so close that even Tooney joked that she should move out and retire from being Alessia's best friend now that you were here for the title. You had simply laughed in response, knowing that at the end of the day, at the end of the month, at the end of the season, even though she was just your teammate at United, she was also simply your favourite person in Manchester (and possibly England, and maybe, just maybe, even in the whole world).

You weren’t someone to really believe in love, having had to witness almost every romantic relationship around you crash and burn, save for Binoe (bless them). So when Alessia clumsily toppled into your life, you didn’t expect that she’d make a home in the cracks of your broken heart. You didn’t expect for her to line the streets of your heart with cosy buildings of every delightful colour known to mankind. You didn’t expect for your heart to flutter like a butterfly each time she was near, the euphoria of having her close nearly causing your feet to grow wings, placing you on cloud nine.

She had your heart and you had no idea when she had taken or how she had taken it, but she had. The way her eyes would crinkle as she laughed had wrapped its threads around your soul. The way she’d have to lean down to hug most of her teammates, you included, and she’d never complain, doing so without being asked, restored your faith in the world. The way her smile would rival the warmth and brightness of the morning sun on your worst days had you smiling softly by yourself as you couldn’t help but stare at her, the only star that you would gladly let damage your eyesight.

While to everyone else she was just your teammate and friend, to you she was so much more. She wasn’t yours but she was something to you, somebody to you, and you hoped to god that you’d never lose her.

It’s funny looking back at when you first realised you were in love with the blonde. It had taken you almost half a year to register that you wanted more than a friendly relationship with her. You remember the exact moment so vividly, having replayed it over and over again in your mind as you lay on your bed, gently begging whatever higher deity existed to make your dreams a reality.

You both, as well as the rest of the team, had just finished a gruelling late training session and Alessia had somehow managed to convince you to let her come around so both of you could make pasta from scratch. You were unbearably tired, not having slept well the night before and the request to postpone the plan was on the tip of your tongue. However, you had made the mistake of looking up from your training bag and right into the bright blue eyes of the taller girl just as you were about to say no, and instead, you (embarrassingly easily, might you add) were persuaded to do nothing but hum in agreement to Alessia’s request.

So once she had picked up the necessary ingredients whilst you waited, trying and failing to nap in the car, and you both had made it to your flat, she had begun flitting around your kitchen, already at home in your house.

You were sitting on the counter, banned from helping due to your tiredness, contentedly watching the partially-Italian woman as she stirred the pasta sauce she had made, that the thought of this scene being ever-present for the rest of your life had briefly crossed your mind. However, you had waved it off at that time, blaming the exhaustion in your bones for your delusional feelings. It had worked and you had forgotten about your yearning for a few seconds, until Alessia had switched the stove off, turned to you, and had taken in your drowsy appearance.

Wordlessly, she had bridged the gap of a few feet between you and gently pulled you towards the edge of the island, pushing apart your legs and bringing her arms to gently wrap around your midsection. It was as she slotted herself perfectly in the space she had created, nudging your head to rest comfortably in the crook of her neck, that you inhaled a deep sigh and let yourself relax, sinking into the hug. As your mind finally began to slow down, the circles Alessia was rubbing on your back calming you quickly, the whole situation hit you.

Here you were, in the arms of your best friend, after she had just finished cooking you dinner, and was holding you so gently, reading you like a book, providing you with the comfort you needed to finally rest. If you didn’t know any better, you would say that Alessia was currently peak girlfriend material - hell even possibly wifey material. Tired and relaxed, this time when the thought of being the only one who Alessia would treat so perfectly like this for the rest of her life came across your heart, you let it warm you, indulging in the loveliness of being cared for.

You had known then, that the blonde irrevocably had your heart, and you were helpless to do anything about it. You were nothing but putty in her hands, your fate lying in hers.

From that point on, you had made it your goal to love Alessia the best you could, regardless of whether she loved you back or not.

As days and months went on, you two got even closer, if that was even possible. If you had thought that both of you were close before, the present put the past to incredulous shame. Your morning routine now definitively consisted of picking up Alessia before morning training and other team events and driving the proud ‘passenger princess’, as you liked to call her, to grab breakfast and head to practice, Tooney joining you two once in a blue moon. Bi-weekly movie nights had become weekly occurrences, and her dropping off home cooked meals turned into you both cooking together in your tiny kitchen most nights.

Telling Alessia you had extended your contract had been one of your favourite moments of the postseason. With her due to play for United another two years too (totally not a deciding factor in your renewal at all), the idea of her getting to spend the remainder of her contract playing not only with Tooney, Mary, and many of the other close friends she’d made, but with you as well excited her unfathomably. The blonde hadn’t stopped smiling for a week straight, and you had a feeling that if she had gone even a single day longer than she had, her face would’ve frozen with her blinding smile stuck permanently.

You knew then, you were a goner for her, for that smile, for the comfort she gave you, her hugs that healed you. You knew you’d give her all of you without taking anything in return, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to care either. You’d give her the world if she asked, all it would take for you to do so is her saying the words, no qualms on your end. You knew that be it as a friend or a lover, you wanted to be the cause of her smiles, her laughs at everything stupid, and the reason her eyes would sparkle with joy. You knew that you wanted her, you just didn’t know she wanted you too.

So caught up in your own head, in your own yearning for the taller girl, you never noticed the longing stares or the blush that would coat her cheeks each time you were near. You never questioned why she’d hug you significantly longer than anyone else, even Tooney or her own mother. You completely, almost idiotically obliviously missed the way she’d go out of her way to make you comfortable, how she had made it her priority as much as you had made it to ensure that her smile would stay.

The two of you danced around each other for months without knowing, two threads dangling from the sky, tangling so effortlessly, yet making no move to separate. You two were bound together unknowingly, without a title, without it being something, without a label. You both were each other's nobody’s, the “no-one special”, yet both of you were silently craving to be each other’s somebody. All you needed really was for the other to make you theirs, the pair of you too scared to accidentally overstep and risk losing the other completely.

At the end, it only took the two of you just over a year and a half before the two of you made any move towards dating. 

It was a chilly mid February day. You had gotten injured that morning, hurting your ankle quite severely and Alessia had so graciously offered to crash with you for a few nights to help you out. You had once again, familiarly, found yourself situated by your island, slumped on the counter, painkillers from the hospital coursing you through your veins, as Alessia cooked for you.

While the sight had become more common to you over the past handful of months, it never got old. The way she’d (for once) gracefully move around, opening your cabinets and rummaging through your pantry and fridge with familiarity and ease, in her element, swaying gently to yours and hers shared playlist you had playing on your speaker. The way her hair was tied back yet a few strands always seemed to spill through, framing her face perfectly. How the heat from the stoves had her cheeks tinted, ever so slightly strawberry red. How absolutely breathtakingly gorgeous she looked bathed in the soft golden lighting of your house, a house that turned into a home whenever she was there.

This time, instead of shying away from watching her as you usually would, you let yourself indulge, eyes tracing the way her arms would flex as she chopped the necessary ingredients, as she used the bench scraper to toss everything into the sizzling pan. You admired the way your old oversized hoodie fit her absolutely perfectly, your last name sitting prettily on her back, as if that sweatshirt was meant to be hers.

You’d been so caught up in your unabashed staring that you didn’t realise Alessia had turned to face you, ladle in hand, the other on her hip, a single eyebrow raised in amusement.

“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?” she teased.

“Definitely did. Something about dinner and it being ready?” You jested, hoping that your obvious guess was at least somewhat close.

“You’re lucky you’re attractive, and half a decent defender…otherwise I wouldn’t be cooking for you y’know.” The way Alessia smirked as your cheeks heated up told you that the striker knew exactly what she was doing, winking at you before laughing and turning around. “Anyways, like I was saying, the doc said you’re probably going to feel really drowsy once the meds wear off, though the pain should definitely be gone. I’m thinking once dinner’s done, we can just go crash in your room, put on a movie or something so I don’t have to carry you around when you knock out? I’m clumsy enough on my own, I don’t need to be holding another person to test it,” she continued.

“Good with me. Plus, at least you’re self-aware enough to know that you are a walking Bambi. It’s honestly a miracle that you aren’t constantly wrapped in bubble wrap at this point.”

“Okay just for that comment, I’m picking the movie and I’m not giving you my hoodie.”

“That’s not fair, I’m drugged up right now. If anything, that’s abuse. You’re torturing a helpless individual,” you mumble as you lay your head on the cool surface of the island.

“Definitely torturing you by cooking you supper and not giving you my hoodie… and as I let you rest since you’re injured and doped up, right?” You could only groan in response to her logic, pouting at not being able to come up with a response.

As Alessia continued to move around your kitchen, finishing up on dinner and plating the food, you went back to observing her. You studied the way she tried the stir fry, taking a bite before scrunching her face adorably and adding more ingredients to fix whatever she thought was lacking. You watched her as she finally decided everything was ready, as she sweetly plated food for you first, handing it to you, before doing so for herself. You smiled, fascinated with the way her body moved as grabbed waters for the both of you, entranced by the ease in her movement. 

You were distracted throughout the whole dinner, mumbling responses, missing questions. You blamed it on the medications and fatigue when the forward beside you asked if you were okay, but in actuality your mind couldn’t help but constantly wander to imagining what it would be like if this was your life. If dinners with Alessia could be your future. If movie nights in your bed, you in her hoodie could be a regular occurrence. You knew you’d thought it before, the ideas were nothing new to you, but you had never craved it this bad before, never wanted it more than right now. 

You’d been so lost in your thoughts you hadn’t noticed Alessia grabbing your dishes or her own, nor her loading the dishwasher. It was only when she had stepped in front of you that you snapped out of your reverie. 

“You sure you’re okay? You seem really out of it…you know I’ve got you right?”

When you fail to meet her eyes immediately, she cradles your face in her hands, one on either side of your jaw, gently tilting your head back to meet her eyes. Her worried eyes scan your face and then the rest of your body, trying to pinpoint something, anything that could have been the cause of your dip in mood.

“Seriously, what’s going on? You were fine just a little while ago. Is it your ankle? Is the pain back? The doctor said the medication would wear off around midnight but if it’s wearing off right now we can call the hospi-”

Shaking your head amusedly at her worried rambling, you cut her off before she forgot how to breathe. “Less I’m fine.”

“Bull. You haven’t said more than 5 words ever since I asked about watching a movie. Oh my gosh, is this about how I said I’m picking the movie? ‘Cause if so, you can totally pick, I swear. I was just teasing. And… and of course you can have my hoodie too. I promise I was just joking. I didn’t mean t-”

“Alessia,” you stated firmly, a slight frown returning to your face when it was her who now couldn’t look at you.

Sensing her anxiety, you reach out for the blonde, hands finding home on her hips, squeezing gently, just enough to get her to finally stop scanning your body for injuries and instead look at you.

“I’m fine, I promise. Just been thinking, that’s all.”

“About? What’s got you so distracted? If it’s the injury, we both know you’ll be back in no time. I don’t mind sticking around to help around while you’re recovering. I’d be happy to help you know? I don’t mind. Plus-”

“Less, it’s not the injury. I don’t care about the recovery. I’ve already accepted that I won’t be playing for a few weeks. Stop worrying, okay? It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal, yeah right…” she scoffs, her hands moving to your shoulders. “Are you actually not going to tell me what’s going on? What’s bothering you? Was it something I did? Is that why you’re not telling me? If I messed up I’ll fix it okay? I'd rather fix it than lose you. Please. Please tell me what’s going on so I can fix it.”

It was in the next few moments that you contemplated whether it would be worth it. Whether potentially destroying your friendship with the blonde that you’ve been in love with since you met her over a year and half ago would be worth the risk of telling her and outing yourself. You considered pretending everything was fine, to make up some excuse using your newly acquired injury or something about the fans and the pressure, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t lie to her. You couldn’t be dishonest. Not when you looked up and saw the care and concern etched in her face, wrinkles scattered across, creases from distress that you had caused.

You figured that if anything, if, no when, when she told you she didn’t feel the same, you could take the next few weeks you had off for healing and rehab to get over her. It wouldn’t be so bad right? You could take those three weeks to heal your ankle and your heart, and then you could go back to being Alessia’s best friend again.

“Hey, I promise I won’t judge alright? Whatever it is, it’s safe with me, I swear on football,” came the gentle voice from the girl towering above you.

You waited a second before looking up, taking a deep sigh in, revelling in the peace before the chaos that you knew was going to come after. Looking in her eyes, you audibly swallowed, before closing your own.

“I’m in love with you. Have been for ages now, and it’s killing me. It’s killing me to see you in my kitchen, at my house, making it a home. It’s killing me to have you cuddle into me when I know I can’t pull you closer at every chance. It’s physically breaking me when I can’t walk up to you in my kitchen and kiss you to thank you for cooking for me, for taking care of me. It’s hurting me when I know that there’s probably going to come a day where you find someone else and I’m left here with your ghost. It terrifies me that I’m nobody to you but you’re somebody to me.” Your voice cracks in the last sentence and you pray to whatever God existed that she couldn’t hear your heart quietly cracking too.

When a minute passes in complete silence, and then another, you dare to open your eyes. Taking a shaky breath in, you don’t know what to make of the sight in front of you. There, Alessia stands, in all her glory, your hands still on her hips, her head tilted back, eyes glazed over, on the verge of tears.

Your heart’s breaking further with each second that passes and you mentally prepare yourself for the rejection that’s incoming.

“Please say something. Please…”

A beat passes. Then two, before Alessia finally looks back down at you, a lone tear falling from her eyes, one that she quickly wipes away, a smile on her face. “Took you long enough to catch up.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. The possibility of your dreams becoming a reality never seemed plausible to you. “Less, don't play. Please,” you beg.

“You were never nobody to me idiot. You weren’t ever nothing to me. You’ve been somebody to me since I met you y’know? You’ve had my heart since you walked onto the training pitch, looking like a lost kid.” 

“Honest?” You asked, just to make sure you weren’t hearing things, that she actually liked you back, that you weren’t dreaming. When Alessia nodded in return, you couldn’t help but smile, your grin stretching from ear to ear.

Wiping the few tears that had made their way down your face, you moved your hands to wrap around the other girl, pulling her close to you, hugging her tightly. You tucked your head into the chest, her arms wrapping around your neck, your beaming smile hidden in the cloth of her sweatshirt. 

“Let me make you mine? Go on a date with me?” The blonde quietly asked, kissing the top of your head.

This time, it was your turn to nod. You did so energetically, practically vibrating with happiness, twin grins adorning both yours and Alessia’s face. 

You couldn’t ever fathom the idea of leaving Canada as a child, yet now, all grown up, on your own, you’d never been more glad you had left. That you had allowed yourself the opportunity to find a new home, one that you found here, in the arms of Alessia Russo.

You’d spent months thinking you weren’t anybody to her, and now? Now you knew you were somebody to her. That you weren’t alone this whole time. That she wanted to make you hers all along.

[hyper-trash-panda]

Bad Boys — Legacy

Pt 2/?

Warnings: Blood, violence, cursing

Rated R

Chile, I’m over here bootlegging the Bad Boys movies trying to make gifs 😆😆

The clink of silverware against plates echoed through the dining room. The smell of smothered chicken and roasted vegetables filled the air, but the usual warmth of Theresa's cooking were overshadowed by the heaviness that had settled over the table.

Marcus, sitting at the head, glanced around the table, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took a bite from his fork. To his right, Theresa meticulously adjusted her napkin, her lips pressed into a thin line, betraying her discomfort. Next to her, their daughter picked at her food, her usual chatter replaced by an uncharacteristic silence. Reggie was focused on his plate, completely unhindered as he scarfed down every bite. Marcus grimaced.

Mike, sitting to Marcus' left, was still; his fork hovering over his plate as he stole glances towards Valerie. She sat beside him, her smile polite but strained. The air between Mike and Armando, who sat beside Valerie, was charged with unspoken words. Armando's jaw was tight, his eyes flicking between his father and his fiancée, the muscles in his neck taut.

From the living room, the sound of the kids' cartoons provided a distant, cheerful contrast to the uncomfortable quiet at the table, but it only seemed to deepen the discomfort in the dining room.

The scrape of Marcus' chair against the floor as he leaned back to take a sip of water seemed louder than it should have. An awkward, "Sorry." Left his lips before silence overtook the table once more.

Theresa cleared her throat softly. "So, Valerie," she began, her tone warm but slightly forced, "how was your flight?"

Valerie, mid-sip of her water, swallowed quickly, her eyes widening in brief surprise. "Oh, um, it was good," she replied, her voice steadying as she placed her glass back on the table. "It's only a two hour flight from the Dominican Republic, but it was hard leaving my kids."

Mike perked up. “You got kids?"

"In a sense," Valerie admitted, "I'm a school teacher."

Megan's eyes lit up, a spark of enthusiasm breaking through the tension. "Really?," she said, leaning in. "I'm actually working on my master's right now to teach English. What grade do you teach?"

Valerie turned to Megan, her expression brightening. "It's a small district, so we don't really have grade levels. I teach kids from about six to ten years old."

"Oh, those are the fun ages, I should know," said Megan, eyes gesturing to her brood in the next room. "What do you teach?"

"Science," Valerie answered, her smile widening. "My degree is in chemistry, but I also teach them astronomy, earth science, physics, the general basics."

As she spoke, Valerie's eyes drifted to Armando; his arm rested protectively along the back of her chair as he leaned back, picking at his plate. Sensing her gaze, Armando glanced at her and then straightened up, his posture shifting as if already anticipating what she was about to say.

"Actually, that's how I met Armando," Valerie added.

Armando's eyes softened, his usually guarded expression easing for a moment as their eyes met. If one were to squint hard enough, they might believe him to be smiling back.

Marcus interjected with a smirk. "Well don't leave us in suspense, Valerie. I've got to know who managed to melt the warlock baby's heart."

Before anyone could react, Mike's foot shot out under the table, landing a swift kick to Marcus' shin. Marcus winced, but the pain went unacknowledged by everyone else at the table.

"Well," Valerie began, her voice gentle as she thought back, "I was teaching my kids about the rock cycle at the time. My home is set near a small dock, so I was walking along the shore collecting rocks when I noticed a boat floating out in the distance."

Valerie paused, her brow furrowing slightly at the memory. "At first, I didn't think much of it—there are fishermen who pass by all the time—but the person inside this boat wasn't moving, and it gave me an eerie feeling."

The table was silent, everyone leaning in a little closer as Valerie continued. "I got my neighbor, who owns a boat, we set out to check on it. That's when we found Armando. He—um—" Valerie paused, taking in the audience, realizing some of the finer details to be inappropriate, "Wasn't in the best condition. We got him to shore and set him up in my spare room. I spent the next two days helping him through a fever, rehydrating him, and sewing up his wounds until he was strong enough to leave."

Theresa, her eyes twinkling, cut in with a knowing smile. "Well, clearly, he didn't, did he?" she teased, glancing at the engagement ring on Valerie's finger.

Armando picked up the story, his voice steady. "Val got me a job working maintenance for the school. It gave me time to find a fresh start. It was honest work, something I needed."

Valerie nodded. "It took two years, but eventually, Armando proposed." She smiled softly, the memory still fresh in her mind. "And, well, here we are."

Marcus grinned, "Ain't that something," he said, his voice warm. "Congratulations, you two." He nodded approvingly as he noticed Armando's arm had moved from resting behind Valerie's chair to holding her hand on the table.

Mike, who had been quiet, focused on the ring on Valerie's finger. It was a simple design—a double gold band encasing a half-line of small stones. Mike knew that with the kind of money Armando's former cartel life would’ve have afforded him, he could've easily bought something far more extravagant. But this ring, it was a testament to Armando's honest work, to the new life he was trying to build. Mike felt a swell of pride for his son.

Just as Mike was lost in thought, Megan broke the silence with a playful tone. "So, when's the big day?"

Valerie started to answer, "We've decided to wait until Armando joined—"

But before she could finish, Armando interjected smoothly, his voice firm. "Until I've fulfilled my contract with Miami PD," he said, his words carefully chosen.

Valerie blinked, momentarily confused by the shift in their story, but before she could question him, the simultaneous ringing of both Mike and Marcus' phones cut through the room. They exchanged a look, already knowing what it meant.

"Duty calls," Marcus muttered, already pushing back his chair as Mike did the same. Marcus leaned down to kiss Theresa on the cheek, then turned to Megan, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead. "Take care, alright?" he said before turning to Reggie.

"Let’s move," Marcus ordered.

Reggie stood up immediately. "Yes, sir." he replied with a nod, wiping gravy from his lip. He then turned to Megan, his expression softening as he leaned in and gave her a tender kiss before following his father-in-law.

Mike turned to Theresa as he grabbed his jacket. "Dinner was amazing, Tee. I'm coming back for them leftovers."

Theresa smiled, already heading to the kitchen. "I'll pack some up for you."

As Mike headed toward the door, he looked back at Armando, who was still seated, clearly conflicted. "Armando, you're coming with us," Mike said, his voice carrying a hint of expectation.

Armando hesitated, his gaze shifting from his father to Valerie, who looked at him with a mix of confusion and concern. He didn't want to leave her without explaining, but he knew he had to go.

Leaning in close to Valerie, he spoke softly, "Hablamos después, ¿sí?" *we'll talk later, okay?* His voice was firm but gentle before giving her a quick, reassuring peck on the lips.

Valerie nodded, though the worry in her eyes remained. She watched as Armando rose from the table, his movements deliberate as he joined Mike, Marcus, and Reggie at the door.

Eclipse was a far cry from its usual scene. The neon lights that once pulsed in sync with the deafening beats of the music were replaced by harsh, clinical overhead lights that washed the space in sterile white. There was no music now, only the mechanical rhythm of camera shutters and the soft thud of boots across the slick, glossy floor. Crime scene tape flapped gently in the artificially chilled air, marking off areas that had been vibrant just hours ago but now lay in silence, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of a body bag being zipped up.

Forensics teams combed through the wreckage of the night, dusting for prints, collecting fibers, and snapping close-ups of every bloodstain. Detectives huddled in quiet conversation, their voices low, while uniformed officers kept curious onlookers at bay outside. A few clubgoers who hadn't made it out before the chaos were lined up against a wall, their once-carefree expressions now replaced with shock and confusion.

The hum of an Porsche 911 rolled up to the scene, its tires barely making a sound as it came to a smooth stop just beyond the tape. From the driver's seat, Mike stepped out, his crisp black shirt catching the glint of the overhead lights. Beside him, Marcus followed, already tugging at his shirt collar like the tension of the scene had wrapped itself around his neck. Reggie hopped out of the back, eyes wide, taking in the grim scene. Last out was Armando, his posture cool, but his sharp gaze sweeping over the mess in front of them.

The four moved as a unit, heading toward the yellow tape that separated them from the chaos. Mike led the way, his badge flashing like a beacon in the dim light as he approached the officer guarding the entrance. Without a word, the officer lifted the tape for him, nodding in recognition as Mike passed. Marcus followed, flashing his own badge. Reggie was next, getting a quick nod from the officer who had seen him enough times to know he was with them. But as Armando reached for the tape, the officer stepped in front of him.

"Whoa, hold up. Where's your badge?"

Armando didn't flinch, but his jaw tightened slightly as he glanced at Mike. Before he could say anything, Mike stepped back, his usual cocky grin in place as he clapped a hand on the officer's shoulder.

"He's with us. AMMO consultant," Mike said, his voice leaving no room for argument. The officer hesitated for only a second, then gave a quick nod, lifting the tape higher for Armando to pass through.

"Gracias," Armando said, his voice cool and even as he followed Mike and the others toward the center of the club.

They made their way through the scene, weaving past clusters of investigators, toward Kelly, who stood over a body in the middle of the dance floor. Her gloved hands rested on her hips and sharp eyes scanning the evidence in front of her like a puzzle that hadn't yet revealed all its pieces. She didn't look up when the group approached but spoke, her tone matter-of-fact.

"Took you long enough," Kelly muttered, finally turning to face them, her gaze locking on Mike and Marcus. "You're not gonna like this one."

Marcus tugged on his gloves, flexing his fingers as he glanced over at the body Kelly stood over. "Who we looking at?" he asked, his tone casual. Mike, following suit with his own gloves, gave the body a quick glance before focusing on Kelly.

"ID says Maddison Harrison, age twenty-two," Kelly started, but the flatness in her voice gave away the truth. "Dorn ran facial recognition. Real age is sixteen."

Marcus grimaced, his usual bravado slipping for a moment as the reality of the situation hit him. "Sixteen? What the hell's a kid doing in a place like this?"

Kelly handed the fake ID to Mike, her jaw tight. "Good question. And she's not the only one. Found the same quality ID on two other bodies over at the booth." Her eyes flicked toward the far corner of the club, where another pair of black body bags lay zipped up, waiting for the morgue to claim them. "Same story, both kids."

Mike turned the ID over in his hand, barely needing a second glance to recognize the poor craftsmanship. "Who's the genius letting a bunch of kids in with this shit?"

Before Kelly could answer, Dorn approached, tablet in hand. His sudden presence made Kelly stiffen, her posture visibly more rigid, but Dorn didn't seem to notice—or he pretended not to. "The bouncer. He was distracted by a fight that broke out just as the kids were coming in. He let them slide so he could deal with the guys throwing punches."

Mike exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Hell of a time to drop the ball."

"Bouncer remembered the two boys at the booth," Dorn continued, tapping on his tablet to pull up more info. "Said they came in with their dates. Names were Tyler James and Zachery Harris, both seventeen."

Marcus sighed, the weight of it all getting heavier by the second. He crouched down next to the body bag, reaching for the zipper. "Let's see what we're dealing with."

Mike's brow furrowed, and he stepped closer. "Marcus, don't-"

But Marcus ignored him. With a quick, sharp pull, he unzipped the body bag and uncovered the face of the girl. What he saw made him jerk back instantly, swearing under his breath. The teenager was streaked with dried blood that had poured from her eyes, nose, and ears, her expression frozen in a final moment of agony.

Mike, used to his partner's squeamishness after all these years, shot him an irritated glance. "Seriously? After everything we've seen, you still can't handle it?"

"Man, shut up," Marcus snapped back, holding his hand up defensively as he gathered himself. "It's gotta be Helios. Only that nasty shit does this."

Reggie, who had been lingering nearby, furrowed his brow. "Helios? What's that?"

Mike crossed his arms, glancing at the bodies being wheeled away. "Its a new drug. Fucked up shit. Started out west, moving its way east. In the last six months, it's been tearing through the southern coast from Louisiana to here. More addictive than heroin, deadlier than fentanyl."

Kelly picked up where Mike left off, her voice clipped and precise. "It's potent. A little too much, and your body goes into overdrive. By the time you know something's wrong, it's too late."

Dorn, still holding his tablet, added, "Gets its name from the warm feeling it gives you. Like you're being hugged by the sun."

Kelly snorted softly, the sound bitter. "Yeah, but it's more like being roasted alive. Burns you from the inside out."

Marcus, having regained his composure, stood up, though his face was still pale. "Helios literally melts your brain. Cooks you. Blood comes out of everything-nose, eyes, ears. Fucks up everything."

He gagged, clearly visualizing the horror in too much detail, and had to cover his mouth. Mike shot him another annoyed look. "Come on, man?"

"I'm good, I'm good," Marcus muttered, waving him off.

Reggie, his eyes drifting toward the row of body bags being taken out by the forensic teams, swallowed hard. "All of this... was because of overdoses?"

The silence that followed was heavier than any answer. Mike and Marcus exchanged a glance, the weight of it unspoken but shared. Kelly turned back to the body at her feet, her jaw clenched, while Dorn stood by, still tapping through files on his tablet before clearing his throat, "Well, there's some good news. We've got one survivor." He tapped on his tablet for a moment before holding it out to show a picture of a teenage girl with bright eyes and a wide smile, frozen in a moment of happier times. "Hannah Davis. She was rushed to the hospital. Unresponsive, but showing signs of life. Her mother's on her way there now."

Marcus, still shaken from the gruesome sight, glanced at the photo with some relief. "That's something, I guess."

"Yeah, but she won't be ready for questioning until tomorrow," Dorn added, lowering the tablet. "Docs need to stabilize her first."

Mike nodded, his gaze shifting toward Armando, who had been standing silently on the edge of the group, his sharp eyes taking everything in but saying little. "What about you, man? You know anything about this Helios stuff?"

All eyes turned to Armando. He shifted slightly but remained composed, meeting their stares without flinching. "Not much experience with it personally," he admitted. "But my mother buying a batch a few years ago. Back when it was still in its testing phases."

Marcus, leaning against one of the club's broken-down tables, raised an eyebrow. "What was it like back then? Anything like this?"

Armando shook his head. "Weak. Barely gave a buzz. Nowhere near lethal. It was sloppy, low-grade. I didn't think much of it."

Marcus let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "Times have changed. This shit now—it's evolved."

Mike crossed his arms, his mind already working on the next step. "You remember who was selling it back then? Might give us a lead."

Armando paused, thinking back, before finally answering. "No clue which gang it came from. My mother handled most of the deals. But I picked it up from a man named Rojas in Mexico City."

Mike exchanged a look with Marcus before turning back to Dorn. "Look into it. Find out everything you can on this Rojas."

Dorn gave a quick nod, already typing away on his tablet as he walked off, disappearing into the maze of flashing cameras and bustling investigators. Kelly watched him leave, a tension settling over her that didn't go unnoticed by Mike. He stepped toward her, voice low, his concern clear. "You good?"

Kelly blinked, snapping back to the present. She gave a tight smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just... gotta help bag evidence." She turned quickly, heading toward one of the forensics teams before anyone could push the question further.

Mike's eyes followed her for a moment, his brows knitting together in thought before he let it go. He turned back to Marcus, who was now pulling off his gloves with a sigh.

"Looks like we'll be stopping by the hospital in the morning," Marcus said. "Hannah's the only witness we've got." He tossed his gloves into a nearby bin. "If she makes it. Who knows how much of her brain was fried from this shit."

The two stood in silence for a moment, the flashing lights and hum of the crime scene continuing around them, as the weight of what was ahead settled in.

The warehouse loomed in the shadows, hidden behind a strip of rotting dockyards on the outskirts of Miami. Once a bustling center for trade, it now stood as a crumbling monument to neglect. Its corrugated steel walls were rusted, streaked with years of saltwater spray from the nearby bay. Weeds and wild grasses had forced their way through the cracks in the concrete, their jagged edges curling around broken pallets and abandoned shipping containers. A cracked neon sign, long since burned out, clung to the roof by a single bolt, creaking in the wind like the last whisper of something forgotten.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of chemicals and mildew. The interior, gutted from years of decay, had been crudely transformed into an underworld den. Makeshift tables lined the walls, strewn with plastic tubs and half-empty bottles of unknown liquids. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting the room in a sickly yellow glow that made everything look like it was drenched in oil. The floor was sticky, littered with cigarette butts, empty fast-food bags, and discarded needles.

In the far corner, near a stack of dented metal drums, a group of men worked silently, mixing powders with practiced hands. They wore torn tank tops and bandanas over their faces, their eyes dull and focused on the tasks in front of them. A radio, perched on a filthy crate, hummed out muffled Spanish music, its static blending with the low hum of machines churning in the background. Beyond them, a staircase rose up to a second-floor office. The steps were rusted, each one groaning underfoot as if they might collapse at any moment. Their railings, once painted red, were now chipped and peeling, revealing raw iron beneath. The stairs led up to a large glass window, cracked but still intact, through which the shadow of a man could be seen.

At the bottom of the stairs, a hulking figure emerged from the shadows. His body filled the space, almost too large for the narrow corridor leading to the staircase. Alejandro’s heavy boots thudded against the floor as he moved, the sound cutting through the murmur of the workers and the hum of machinery.

He reached the bottom of the rusted staircase, paused for a moment, and then ascended. Each step groaned beneath his weight, and the metal beneath his boots seemed to scream in protest. His eyes, dark and unyielding, flicked toward the window of the office above. The dim light reflected off the cracked glass, but he could still see the figure inside waiting for him.

Reaching the top, Alejandro stopped in front of a door, its once-white paint chipped and faded to a dull gray. He didn't bother to knock. He shoved the door open with a grunt, the hinges squealing in protest.

Inside, the office was surprisingly neat compared to the chaos below. The furniture was sparse but modern, a sleek black desk with polished edges, two leather chairs positioned neatly in front of it. Behind the desk stood a man with slick black hair, combed back so sharply it looked like it had been painted onto his scalp. He wore a black button-up shirt, its sleeves rolled up to reveal smooth, tanned forearms. His expression was calm, almost bored, as he turned to face Alejandro.

The man with the slick hair raised an eyebrow, awaiting an explanation that brought Alejandro to his office. He leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands together on the desk in front of him, his eyes sharp and calculating. Behind him, a large map of Miami was pinned to the wall, red pins marking locations across the city. A small, gold-plated revolver sat on the desk next to a half-empty glass of whiskey, glistening under the dim light of a single bulb hanging from the ceiling.

Alejandro’s eyes flicked to the gun before meeting the man's gaze again, shifting on his feet. He ran a hand over the tattoos snaking up his forearm before speaking, “That girl," he said, his voice low. "She survived. They've got her at Mercy. Cops all over it."

The man behind the desk didn't flinch. His expression remained unreadable as he stared out the window, watching the silent hum of activity below.

"I see."

Alejandro nodded, though his face remained stone cold. The man picked up his glass of whiskey, swirling the amber liquid inside. "I trust you won't disappoint me, Alejandro," he said, his tone soft but laced with menace.

Alejandro cracked his knuckles, a slow, deliberate sound that filled the silence between them. "I never do."

The man's smile widened just a fraction, his eyes gleaming. "That's what I like to hear." The man gave the slightest tilt of his head, a shadow of a smile ghosting across his lips. “Prepare everything for the morning."

Alejandro's eyes narrowed, his face hardened with understanding.

The headlights of Mike's Porsche cut through the quiet suburban street as they pulled into Marcus's driveway. The hum of the engine faded into the stillness of the night as Mike killed the ignition, but the tension in the car remained thick.

Marcus opened the door and stepped out into the cool night air. The others followed suit, the tension still hanging over them as they approached the front door. Theresa stood waiting, framed by the warm glow of the porch light. Beside her, Valerie stood, her arms crossed and expression unreadable.

"Hey, baby," Theresa greeted Marcus softly, her arms wrapping around him in a comforting hug. She pulled back, studying his face. "You okay?"

"Real bad scene out there." Marcus muttered, running a hand over his face.

Theresa's brow furrowed with concern. "What happened?"

Marcus shook his head, his voice low and tired. "Kids, T. Three teenagers. Overdosed right on the floor of that club. All three gone before we even got there."

Theresa's hand instinctively squeezed Marcus's arm, a soft gasp escaping her lips. "Oh my God..." She knew how much it tore him apart to see kids caught up in the darkness of drugs and crime.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her thumb rubbing small circles on his arm.

Marcus nodded, his jaw tight as he forced the images away.

Reggie cleared his throat and gave a quick nod toward the house. "Where's Megan and the kids?" he asked, looking over at Theresa.

"They're in the back room," Theresa said, her voice soft but steady. "I'm sure they're ready to head out."

Reggie nodded gratefully and disappeared down the hall, eager to see his family and escape the weight of the day.

While Theresa comforted Marcus, Armando drifted toward Valerie. She stood stiffly, her arms still crossed, avoiding eye contact. He stepped closer, hesitating for a moment before wrapping his arms around her. The embrace was tentative, but there was no warmth in her response. She barely moved, her body cold against his.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice low and careful.

Valerie pulled back slightly, her expression distant. "Fine," she replied, her tone clipped. "What’s the case?"

Armando frowned, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. "That's not what we need to talk about," he said, keeping his voice steady. "I don't wanna keep dodging this, Vee.“

Valerie sighed, rubbing her temple. "Armando, I'm not doing this tonight. I just got off a long flight."

His patience, already thin from the night's events, was wearing even thinner. "Val—"

Before he could press any further, she cut him off, glancing at the yellow suitcase by the door. "I'm staying at a hotel.”

The words hit him harder than he expected. The distance between them felt more than physical now, and the coolness in her voice made his chest tighten. Mike, Marcus, and Theresa, caught in their own conversation, suddenly fell silent as Valerie's statement hung in the air.

Armando turned to her, trying to mask his frustration, though the edge in his voice was hard to miss. "That's fine," he muttered, "I'll go get my stuff."

Before he could move, Mike spoke up, his voice casual but firm. "Hey, hold up. You cant do that, man. You're still under contract to stay here at Marcus' house."

Armando shot him a look, but the reality of his situation left no room for argument. With a quiet sigh, he glanced at her, searching for some kind of compromise.

Theresa, sensing the tension and trying to defuse the situation, stepped forward. "Valerie, really, it's no trouble. You can stay here with us if you want. You don't have to go to a hotel."

Valerie gave her a tight smile, polite but firm. "Thanks, Theresa, but I've already called a ride. They're pulling up now.“

True to her observation, a dark, four door sedan pulled up to the curb. Armando clenched his jaw as he grabbed her yellow suitcase. "I'll walk you out," he said quietly.

Valerie gave a small nod and thanked Theresa again before heading down the pathway. Armando followed closely behind, his frustration mounting with every step.

The night air was cool and still. The soft hum of the idling car was the only sound as they approached. Armando opened the backseat door, and Valerie slid in without a word. He handed her suitcase to the driver and then stepped over to her window as it rolled down.

His voice softened, almost pleading. "Text me when you get there, okay?“

Valerie met his gaze, her expression softer now but still guarded. "I will." She paused, hesitating before adding, "Maybe we can talk tomorrow. Meet up for lunch?"

Armando nodded, a flicker of hope in his chest. "Yeah, come by the station. We can grab something."

Valerie gave a small nod and leaned forward, placing a brief kiss on his cheek. It was quick, more of a gesture than anything intimate, but it left Armando feeling both grateful and hollow at the same time.

He watched as the car pulled away, the taillights fading into the night. The silence settled back over the street, heavier than before. After a long moment, Armando turned and walked back toward the house, the weight of the day pressing down on him.

Mike stepped out of his car; the late evening breeze carrying the scent of saltwater as it drifted up from the bay. His bachelor pad, perched on the edge of Miami's waterfront, stood like a modern fortress of glass and steel. The house was all sharp lines and wide windows, the city's skyline reflecting off the shimmering surface of the infinity pool out back. Inside, dim lights spilled out, casting a soft glow over the manicured steps that led to the front door.

Balancing a container of leftover smothered chicken in one hand and a stack of mail in the other, Mike felt a flicker of recognition at the car parked in his driveway. The Mustang. His lips twitched into a smile. As he stepped through the front door, the comforting hum of home washed over him—the quiet thrum of the air conditioning, the faint sound of the water lapping against the shore. But it was the sight on his couch that really brought the warmth.

Rita, dressed in one of his crisp, white button-downs and a pair of black leggings, was comfortably sprawled out on the couch, chopsticks in hand as she deftly twirled noodles into a bite. The Chinese takeout box balanced on her lap, its open top revealing their favorite order from a spot they hit up way too often.

She paused mid-bite, her eyes darting to him as he entered. "Yours is on the counter," she said with a grin, swallowing her mouthful.

Mike set the leftovers and the mail down on the kitchen island, his gaze catching the familiar red and gold logo of their usual spot. "Damn, you didn't wait for me?" he teased, crossing the room with easy strides.

Rita chuckled, shifting slightly on the couch to make room. "You know I can't resist their noodles."

He leaned down, brushing a kiss against her cheek, the soft scent of her perfume mingling with the savory aroma of takeout. "Good to know I'm not the only thing you can't resist," he murmured, his voice low with amusement.

Rita rolled her eyes, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "Please, you're not that irresistible," she shot back, her tone laced with mock exasperation. Mike chuckled as he shrugged off his leather jacket, draping it over the arm of the adjacent couch. The light scent of leather and his cologne lingered in the air as he headed toward the kitchen, flipping open the stainless steel fridge.

"I already ate, by the way," he called over his shoulder. "Marcus had me over for dinner."

Rita raised an eyebrow and followed him, curiosity piqued. "Oh yeah? What did Theresa cook this time?"

Mike turned around, one hand rummaging through the fridge while the other held up the plastic bag of Tupperware with the leftovers. "Smothered chicken," he said with a grin, waving the container slightly as proof.

Rita's eyes widened as she groaned dramatically, resting her hand on the kitchen counter. "Did she use the special gravy?"

Mike gave her a knowing look and nodded. "The one and only."

"You should've brought me some!" Rita half-pouted, stepping closer.

Mike laughed as he began placing the takeout box inside the fridge. But before he could close the door, Rita reached for the container in his hand, making a play for the coveted leftovers.

"Oh no, you don't," Mike said, swatting her hand away as she grinned mischievously. "Woman, don’t you touch my chicken."

Rita threw her hands up in surrender, eyes twinkling with amusement. "You're really going to be greedy like that?"

"Hell yeah," Mike quipped, slipping the container safely onto a shelf. "You've got your noodles. This right here"—he tapped the fridge door for emphasis—"is sacred territory."

Rita chuckled, leaning back against the counter. "You're lucky Theresa's food is worth it. Next time, though, I'm claiming first dibs."

Mike leaned forward, resting both hands on the edge of the counter, his dark eyes locking onto Rita's as he absentmindedly fiddled with the buttons of his shirt she wore. The playful tension between them simmered down, replaced by something heavier. "You know," he began, his voice quieter, "if Theresa knew you and I were together, she might’ve packed enough for both of us."

Rita's sigh was almost immediate. She straightened up, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she avoided his gaze. This wasn't the first time he'd brought it up, and she knew where this was going.

"Michael—"

"Nah, don't do that." He shook his head, cutting her off. "It's been almost a year, Rita. A year since we got together, and it's still a secret." His words were firm but not angry, like he was trying to understand, to make her see his side.

Rita closed her eyes for a moment, frustration bubbling up inside her. "We've already had this discussion," she muttered, her tone clipped as she pushed away from the counter.

"We haven't, though," Mike countered, following her movement with his eyes, his voice rising a little. "Every time we try to talk about it, you change the subject or dodge the question. You’re it doing right now."

She turned to face him, her frustration evident in the way her lips pressed into a thin line. "Michael, it's not as simple as you make it sound.“ said Rita as she made her way back to her spot on the couch, wanting the conversation to end.

Mike exhaled, following her movements as they stood by the window. "I'm not saying it's simple. I get that. But we're not just coworkers, Rita. We're… this is more than that."

"And that's exactly the problem," she shot back, pacing now, her voice tight with the weight of what she was trying to say. "I am your captain. The moment people know about us, they'll start questioning everything. Whether I can make unbiased calls, whether I'm doing my job because it's right or because of you."

Mike ran a hand over his face, trying to keep his cool. He knew she was right, but it didn't make it any easier. "I just don't want to keep hiding," he said, his voice softer now. "I don't want to feel like we're sneaking around, like we're doing something wrong."

Rita paused, her back to him for a moment before she finally turned around, her expression softening just a bit. "I don't want that either. But you know how this works. We don't get to have it both ways. And I can't risk everything I've worked for—everything we've worked for—just because we're... together."

Mike let out a long breath, the tension between them hanging thick in the air. "Alright, I'll drop it," he muttered, stepping back.

Rita glanced at him, sensing they both needed a shift. "Since we're already talking work," she began, her voice lighter but still carrying the weight of their jobs, "how was the crime scene? The one you went to tonight."

Mike took a seat on the adjacent sofa to Rita, his arms spreading out across the back, "Seven bodies. All overdosed on Helios. Three of them were underage kids. One of 'em survived, though. She's in the hospital right now, barely hanging on."

Rita nodded, her arms coming to cross over her chest as she crossed her legs on the couch, “Helios is spreading fast. And with this many bodies, someone's got to be moving a lot of it. You know Ernesto Vargas, right? Cuban gang leader?" Mike’s expression tightened as Rita continued, “His body was found this morning at the docks. Him and several of his guys. Shot to hell."

Mike raised an eyebrow. "Do you know who did it?"

Rita shook her head. "We're still piecing it together. No witnesses, no clear leads. All we know is it was a bust—there was a bag of money left at the scene, untouched. No product.”

Mike crossed his arms, the wheels turning in his mind. "You think it's connected to the nightclub case?"

Rita sighed. "That's the theory. The timelines match up too perfectly. Vargas was a known distributor of Helios and he dies the same day we've got seven OD cases from that same drug. It's too big of a coincidence."

Mike nodded, his expression hardening. "Tomorrow, me, Marcus, Reggie, and Armando are heading to the hospital. See if that witness knows anything that can help us get a lead."

Rita's lips pressed into a line as she considered that. "How's Armando settling in?"

"He's doing alright," Mike replied, though there was something off in his tone. "He gave us a solid lead on someone in the Helios distribution line. Dorn is looking into it"

Rita studied him closely, her sharp instincts kicking in. “That's good news," she said slowly. "But you don't seem thrilled. What's bothering you?"

Mike exhaled, leaning forward. "It's not the intel. Armando's sharp, and he's been pulling his weight." He looked away for a moment, his frustration creeping back in. "It's just... he's got a whole fiancée. Showed up at Marcus' place tonight."

Rita's eyebrows shot up. "A fiancée? And you had no idea?"

"None," Mike said, shaking his head. "Two years and I didn't know a damn thing about it."

Rita's shock softened into confusion. "Is she connected to his past? To the cartel?"

Mike gave a small, bitter laugh. "No. He met her after the McGrath mission. When he was laying low in the Dominican Republic. Her name's Valerie. She nursed him back to health, gave him a place to stay while we were negotiating his deal with the DA."

Rita took a deep breath, processing the new information.

Mike's voice grew quieter, his frustration giving way to something more vulnerable. "I'm his father, Rita. We're supposed to be building something here, and he's still keeping shit like this from me."

Rita moved from her place to sit beside him, her voice softening as she spoke. "Michael, you've both been through a lot. He's spent most of his life not knowing you. This isn't going to be easy for either of you, but he's here now. You're working together, and that's a start."

Mike nodded, but the frustration still lingered in his eyes. "I just thought by now... I don't know. I guess I hoped we'd be closer. That he'd trust me at least.”

Rita placed a hand on his arm. "Give it time. He's working with you, with AMMO. He's in the states now, which means you have a chance to build that relationship. It's not going to happen overnight, but it will happen."

The tension in Mike's shoulders slowly eased, and he gave Rita a small, appreciative smile. Rita gently squeezed his arm, sensing that he'd had enough of heavy conversations for one day. "Come on," she said softly, standing up and offering her hand. "It's late, and we've got a long day tomorrow."

Mike watched her for a moment before taking her hand and letting her lead him. He rubbed his face, trying to shake off the lingering frustrations and doubts as they reached his bedroom. Rita was already at the foot of the bed, pulling the covers back, her movements fluid and familiar. Mike watched her for a beat, appreciating the quiet routine they'd developed, even if it wasn't something he could show off to the world. Here, in the dim light of his home, it felt... real.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, revealing a bustling hospital corridor bathed in the unforgiving light of late morning. The scent of antiseptic and the quiet murmur of medical staff hit them immediately. Mike led the way, his crisp, tailored jacket cutting a sharp contrast against Marcus's more laid-back attire, while Reggie and Armando followed closely behind, their eyes scanning the sterile surroundings.

They approached the reception desk, where a nurse in light blue scrubs sat typing on a computer, her fingers moving with practiced precision. Mike, ever the charmer, leaned in slightly, flashing his badge with a brief smile.

"Miami PD. " he said, his voice smooth. "Can you tell us if Hannah Davis is able to answer a few questions?"

The nurse's fingers stilled, and she glanced up at the four men before her eyes settled on Mike. She exhaled softly, a shadow passing over her face.

"She's awake in room 324," the nurse said, her voice measured. "But... she's suffered severe damage to her brain." She paused, her gaze shifting slightly as if unsure of how much to reveal. "Her short-term memory has been... hindered."

Marcus, standing just behind Mike, frowned and stepped forward, his brow creasing in confusion. "What does that mean exactly?"

The nurse's eyes flicked to Marcus, her expression softening as she elaborated, "She's lost the ability to make new memories. She won't remember anything that's happened since the incident. Every few minutes, it resets."

A cold, heavy silence settled over the group. Marcus shifted uncomfortably, his usual humor drained from his face as he processed what the nurse was saying. A kid, just sixteen years old, stuck in a loop, her life paused indefinitely because of a drug overdose.

Mike nodded slowly, the gravity of the situation written in the tight set of his jaw. "Thank you," he said quietly, stepping back from the desk. The nurse gave them a sad, knowing look before returning to her screen.As they made their way down the hall, the weight of the news sat heavy on their shoulders.

Marcus stopped just outside the door, his hand on the handle, and glanced over his shoulder at Reggie and Armando. "Hey, y'all hang back. We don't want to overwhelm the girl with too many faces."

Reggie gave a small nod with a sharp, “Yes sir.”while Armando just shrugged, not taking it personally. They both found chairs along the wall in the hallway, Armando into them while Reggie took to standing.

With a quick exchange of looks, Mike and Marcus steeled themselves before entering the room. Inside, the soft hum of machines filled the space, and the sterile white walls were softened only by the presence of an older woman sitting at the bedside. She had dark hair streaked with silver and light eyes that glinted with fatigue and heartache. Beside her, a young girl lay propped up on pillows, her complexion glowing with youthful health that seemed at odds with the reality they had just been told. Hannah Davis looked like any other teenager, but the hollow space between who she had been yesterday and who she was now seemed to fill the room.

The two men greeted the woman, their voices quiet but professional.

"Ma'am, I'm Detective Mike Lowrey, this is Detective Marcus Burnett," Mike began.

The woman stood and offered her hand, her grip firm despite the tremble in her lip. "I'm Helan Davis. Hannah's mother."

Mike nodded, glancing over at Hannah. The girl's eyes flitted between the detectives and her mother, a nervous energy radiating from her. Marcus softened his stance a little.

"Mrs. Davis," Marcus began, "if you're okay with it, we'd like to ask Hannah a few things. We'll take it slow. If she needs a break at any time, just let us know."

Helan hesitated, looking down at her daughter, her fingers brushing lightly against Hannah's hand. "It's okay, honey," she said softly. "Just tell them what you can remember."

Mike stepped closer to Hannah's bedside. "Hannah, we just need to know what happened last night. Anything you remember can help us."

Hannah swallowed, her eyes darting to her mother, seeking permission or maybe forgiveness. When Helan nodded, Hannah looked back at Mike, her voice barely above a whisper. "Maddie... my friend... she wanted to go out with this guy from her Geometry class—Tyler."

Marcus raised a brow, waiting for her to continue. She paused, her eyes welling up with the weight of the truth.

"But Tyler didn’t want to go out unless Maddie found a date for his friend, Zach. So... Maddie asked me to go with them."

Marcus exchanged a look with Mike, both sensing the nerves in Hannah's words.

Hannah hesitated, glancing down at the blanket in her lap. "I thought we were just going to the movies." Her voice wavered. "But then... in the car... Maddie gave me a fake ID. She said we were going to sneak into a club."

Helan's jaw tightened, though she stayed silent, squeezing her daughter's hand.

Mike nodded, taking this in. "Do you know who gave you the fake IDs?"

Hannah shook her head. "Zach got them. From some guy at a gas station... in an alleyway."

Marcus cut in, his tone gentle. "Did you or Maddie plan to meet anyone at the club?"

"No," Hannah whispered, shaking her head again. "At least, not that I knew of."

Mike pressed forward, his voice soft. "What about the vape pen? Where'd you get that?"

Hannah hesitated again, looking back at her mother. Helan squeezed her hand tighter this time, offering a small nod of encouragement.

"Maddie... Maddie went up to a guy at another booth. She got the pen from him. The same guy Zach got his from." Her voice cracked, and her eyes brimmed with tears. She turned to her mother fully now, her voice breaking. "I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to—"

Helan wrapped her arms around her daughter, pulling her close as she started to cry. "Shh, honey. It's okay. We'll get through this," she whispered, her voice steady, though her eyes betrayed her fear.

Mike waited a beat before asking the final question. "Hannah, can you describe the guy Maddie talked to? The one with the vape pen?"

Hannah sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I never saw his face... but I remember he had wings."

"Wings?" Marcus asked, puzzled.

"Yeah," she nodded slowly, her voice distant, like she was trying to reach for the memory through fog. "Tattooed on his chest. They were... big, like angel wings."

Mike and Marcus exchanged a glance. It was a small detail, but one that could make all the difference. Mike nodded, taking a mental note of it.

Just then, Hannah turned to her mom again, her voice smaller this time. "Mom... I need to use the bathroom."

Helan nodded quickly, helping her daughter out of bed. Hannah stood shakily but managed to walk the short distance to the bathroom door on her own, closing it softly behind her.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Helan's composure shattered. Her body slumped as she pressed a hand to her face, choking back sobs that came in short, sharp gasps. Mike shifted uncomfortably, unsure whether to approach, while Marcus stood still, giving her a moment.

Helan's voice was choked with emotion as she spoke. "I just... I don't know what happened. I normally keep such close track of her. I'm always so careful. But with my husband away on his business trip—he hasn't answered a single call—and the workload piling up at the office... I thought she was fine. She's always been so independent. I never imagined..."

Marcus stepped forward, his tone comforting. "None of this is your fault, Mrs. Davis. Kids make mistakes, and sometimes things slip through the cracks. It's not a reflection of your parenting."

Helan's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and despair. "Not all kids end up dead or with their memory permanently damaged, Detective. It's not just a mistake. It's—" Her voice cracked, and she buried her face in her hands, sobs escaping despite her attempts to stifle them. “She'll never be the same, will she? She won't even remember this conversation in a few minutes."

The weight of that truth hung in the air, pulling all their hearts down with it.

Marcus cleared his throat, trying to find the right words. "We'll find the people responsible for this, Mrs. Davis. I promise you that."

Helan's eyes met his, searching for something—hope, maybe, or a reason to believe. She gave a small nod, wiping her tears away as best she could. Helan wiped her eyes, trying to pull herself together. "The doctors want to run a few more tests before they discharge her later today. They said it's important for Hannah to return to familiar surroundings to minimize her distress when her memory resets."

The weight of Helan's words settled heavily in the room. Mike and Marcus shared a solemn look.

"Mrs. Davis," Mike said gently, "we'll make sure to keep you updated on our progress. We're committed to finding the people responsible for this."

Helan nodded, her face pale but resolute. At that moment, the bathroom door opened, and Hannah emerged, her face fresh from washing up. She looked between her mother and the detectives, her confusion evident.

"Mom, who are they?" Hannah asked, her voice tentative.

Helan's face fell as she realized the implications. "They're detectives from Miami PD, sweetie. They were asking about last night."

The realization hit Mike and Marcus simultaneously. Hannah's memory had reset; the last twenty minutes had vanished from her mind as if they never happened.

The hallway was quiet, the kind of quiet that amplifies every small noise. Armando sat leaned back in his chair, eyes closed, arms crossed over his chest. Across from him, Reggie stood like a sentinel, his posture rigid, the muscle memory of his Marine days still alive in the way he held himself. His eyes were fixed forward, scanning the hall as if waiting for something—anything—to happen.

For several minutes, the only sound was the hum of distant hospital machines and the quiet shuffle of medical staff moving in and out of rooms. But soon, Armando became aware of another sound—a rapid, relentless tapping. His eyes stayed closed, but his brow furrowed in annoyance.

Reggie's foot was tapping against the tile floor, the pace picking up every second. Armando let out a small sigh, trying to ignore it. The tapping, though, became impossible to drown out. After a few more moments, Armando's frustration peaked.

Without opening his eyes or changing his posture, he asked, voice casual yet irritated, "You waiting for permission to piss, or what?"

The tapping stopped immediately. Reggie looked down at his foot, realizing Armando was addressing him. "Uh... no," he said awkwardly, "Detectives Lowrey and Burnett told us to wait out here."

At that, Armando opened one eye and cast a dubious glance in Reggie's direction. "Detectives Lowrey and Burnett, huh?" he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You always refer to them like you're in basic training?"

"It's called respect," Reggie replied, crossing his arms. "Something you wouldn't know much about."

Armando let out a low scoff, now sitting up a little straighter. “Yeah? What's that supposed to mean?"

Reggie shifted his stance, his voice calm but pointed. "You still call your father by his first name like you're a stranger. You clearly don't respect Detective Lowrey."

Armando straightened up completely, his easygoing facade slipping. His jaw clenched as he leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "Watch it, man. You don't know anything about me."

Reggie didn't back down, though. "That's the problem, Aretas. No one knows anything about you because you don't let anyone in. Hell, your own father didn't even know you were engaged."

The tension in the air snapped like a wire pulled too tight. Armando shot to his feet, "Mind your fucking business, Sargent Boy Scout."

Reggie stood his ground, meeting Armando's intensity without blinking. The two stood there, locked in a silent standoff, their frustration bubbling to the surface. Just as it seemed things might escalate, a nurse wheeled a cart right between them, breaking through the tension with an obliviousness that only heightened the absurdity of the moment.

Armando clenched his fists, but as the nurse passed, he took a deep breath and forced himself back into the chair, muttering under his breath. He leaned back, trying to settle his irritation, while Reggie returned to his watchful stance, though the air between them remained thick.

It wasn't long, however, before the familiar sound of Reggie's foot tapping started up again, quieter at first but picking up speed just like before. Armando squeezed his eyes shut in exasperation before muttering a curse in Spanish.

"Por el amor de Dios, *For the love of God* go to the fucking bathroom already!"

Reggie, startled, looked down at his foot and then back at Armando. "Uh... yeah, okay. I'll be right back."

As Reggie hurried off down the hall, Armando finally allowed himself a moment of peace, the silence—at last—returning to the hallway.

Reggie rushed down the hospital halls, turning the corner and practically skidding into the men's room. He made a beeline for the first open urinal, the pressure of needing to pee finally releasing with a sigh. As he finished up, he made his way to the sinks, washing his hands with a few quick pumps of soap. His mind was still half outside door 324, keeping an eye on things.

Just as Reggie rinsed his hands, the sound of a toilet flushing drew his attention. From the stall emerged a massive man, easily towering over six feet, he rolled his white sleeves down to cover arms of heavy black tattoos that snaked up farther than Reggie could see. His surgical mask concealed most of his face, but his eyes were sharp, darting around like he was more alert than a typical medical staffer.

Reggie's instincts flared immediately. Something about the guy wasn't right. He washed his hands too fast, barely scrubbing before bolting from the restroom with a casualness that felt forced. Reggie shook the water from his hands and, without thinking, began to tail him.

The guy moved swiftly, but not with the purpose of someone who belonged there. Reggie followed him discreetly through a few turns in the hospital corridor until the man disappeared into a supply closet. Reggie waited a moment, leaning casually against the wall, his mind racing. Something about this situation screamed wrong. He glanced down the hallway but stayed put, waiting for the man to reemerge.

After a few minutes, he couldn't afford to leave his post any longer. He made his way back to Armando, who was still lounging in his chair with an indifferent expression. Reggie sat down, his eyes never leaving the supply closet.

Armando, noticing the tension, raised an eyebrow and followed Reggie's gaze. "Why you staring like that?"

Reggie leaned forward slightly, his voice low. "The man that just came outta the bathroom—big, tatted up, scrubs and a mask—he's not right. He went into that supply closet, but something about him... it didn't feel like hospital staff."

Armando straightened up in his chair, shifting to get a better look at the man, who had just emerged from the supply closet and was now rifling through some files at a nearby desk. Nobody else seemed to notice him, which struck Armando as odd. He wasn't interacting with any other staff, like he was trying too hard to blend in.

"You sure about this?" Armando asked, his eyes narrowing.

Reggie nodded. "Problem is, I can't act without approval from the detectives, you know? I’m still a rookie."

Armando rolled his eyes, pushing himself out of the chair. "Rookie my ass," he muttered, brushing past Reggie.

"Wait—Armando!" Reggie whispered urgently, trying to stop him. But Armando was already halfway across the hall, ignoring the warning.

Armando walked over to the vending machine, the perfect cover to observe the guy without being obvious. He punched in some buttons for a coffee, all the while stealing glances at the man rifling through the files. From his position, Armando could see the bulge at the man's ankle—a telltale sign of a concealed weapon. Definitely not standard hospital issue.

Just as Armando's eyes moved up from the ankle holster, the man turned, catching him watching. For a split second, their eyes locked.

Then, without warning, the man bolted.

The files scattered to the floor as he took off down the hallway, his heavy footsteps echoing against the sterile tiles. Armando cursed under his breath, spilling the hot coffee as he turned to run after the guy.

Armando's boots pounded against the hospital tiles as he sprinted after the tattooed man, his heart racing but his mind focused. He dodged nurses, rolling carts, and patients being wheeled down the halls, keeping his eye on the man as he knocked over everything in his path. Chairs clattered, trays crashed, and people were shoved aside as the guy barreled through the corridor like a wrecking ball.

Despite the chaos, Armando managed to avoid the obstacles, slipping past tumbling chairs and hurdling overturned carts with ease. Just when he was about to close the distance, the tattooed man sent an older woman's wheelchair spinning into the middle of the hall, knocking her to the ground. Armando gritted his teeth as he jumped over her fallen form. He cursed under his breath and, despite the rush of adrenaline and frustration, skidded to a stop.

"Damn it!" he muttered, turning back.

The tattooed man was getting farther away, but Armando couldn't ignore the woman. He rushed back, kneeling beside her as she reached out, confused and shaken. Her face was pale, her breaths shallow with shock. Speaking softly in Spanish, Armando reassured her as he gently helped her up and steadied her in her wheelchair.

"Está bien, señora. ¿Estás herido?" *Its okay, ma’am. Are you hurt?* he asked, his voice calm despite his urgency.

The woman blinked up at him, her hands trembling as she gripped the arms of the chair. "No, no, gracias... estoy bien. Solo me asusté..." * No, no, thanks... I'm fine. I just got scared...*

"Lo siento mucho," *I am very sorry* Armando said quickly, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze before checking her over one last time before he bolted back down the hall. The chase wasn't over.

Armando pushed the door to the stairwell open with his shoulder, his eyes scanning downward as he leaped down the first flight of stairs. The clattering of hurried footsteps echoed beneath him, and a flash of a bald head caught his attention a few floors below. That had to be him.

He jumped two steps at a time, his breaths coming in short bursts as he descended rapidly. The tattooed man had a good lead, but Armando wasn't about to let this guy get away. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, sharpening his senses. Every turn of the stairwell felt tighter, every floor a blur as he pounded down after his target. The sounds of the man's movements echoed in the concrete stairwell, guiding him like a beacon.

When Armando finally hit the ground floor, he could hear the heavy thudding of footsteps just ahead. He tore through the lobby doors, his eyes locked on the back of a man sprinting toward the exit. Armando lunged forward, closing the distance in a final burst of speed before he tackled the man from behind, sending them both crashing to the floor.

They hit the ground hard, sliding across the smooth tiles. Armando wrestled with the man, using every bit of strength he had to pin him down. It took a few seconds of struggling, but eventually, Armando managed to flip the guy over and press his arm into the man's chest to keep him still.

But as soon as the man turned, Armando froze. It wasn't the tattooed guy. Not even close.

The bald man beneath him, wide-eyed and gasping for breath, was in his fifties, a look of sheer terror plastered on his face. His hospital scrubs had become bunched up and he looked nothing like the muscular figure Armando had been chasing.

"What are you doing?!” the man shouted, trying to wriggle free.

Armando blinked in disbelief, the realization sinking in hard. He'd grabbed the wrong guy.

"Shit!" Armando muttered, quickly letting go and jumping to his feet.

The man scrambled to his feet, his face flushed with anger and confusion, but Armando was already scanning the lobby. His true target was nowhere to be seen.

[ghoul-bonez]

~Stars in Her Eyes, Stars in Her Heart~

Chapter 4: Her Heart Will Remain

(Kiri x Fem! Avatar! Reader)

Summary: After the terrifying thanator chase Kiri was worried for your well-being if you were to run into one on your own, so she decided to teach you how to navigate the forest.

Word count: 1.3k

Author’s note: This series is going to have shorter chapters than normal but it’s like 13 chapters long 👍🏻 ALSO rare weekend post!!!

Last - Next

~Series Masterlist~

~Main Masterlist~

Her Heart Will Remain

Kiri had easily decided on your second lesson. Yesterday she had noticed that you had struggled to navigate the forest as you ran from the palulukan. Luckily Kiri had been there, but she feared the outcome that would have happened if she had not been there.

The forest can be hard to adjust to, especially going from one terrain to another, so today you would work on that.

Kiri had beat you to the meeting spot today, but quickly that fact had become fiction as you jumped out from your hiding place, hissing loudly at Kiri who jumped back, placing a hand on her knife.

“Oh my Eywa do not scare me like that!” Kiri removed her hand from her knife and rested it over her heart.

You laughed loudly, “Sorry, but you should have seen the look on your face, priceless!”

Kiri rolled her eyes, “Whatever, we should get started for the day.”

You just smiled at Kiri’s annoyance, “Alright professor Kiri, what do you have planned for today?”

Kiri hummed, “Well, yesterday you were slow, unsure about your movement through the forest. Today we are going to work on that. I believe the English name for the game we are going to be playing is tag.”

You scoffed, “Damn, I didn't do that bad.”

Kiri laughed, “But you were that bad. You probably wouldn’t be alive if I weren't there.”

You smiled but rolled your eyes, “Okay, whatever. Who's gonna be the first chaser.”

“You are going to be chasing me. Try to keep up.” Kiri said before sprinting away, giving you no time to think before you took off after her.

The ground was rough beneath your feet, sticks and stones making you cringe as you stepped on them, but you kept running. Eventually you were able to ignore the pain and push through it. It was like they weren't there anymore when you stopped focusing on them, instead focusing on Kiri who was far ahead. You had to keep up so you pushed yourself even harder, your lungs aching, air burning them when you inhaled.

You avoided tree after tree while you ran, dodging around them, a couple grazing your body as you didn’t aim yourself far enough away.

Soon Kiri was approaching a tree head on, with what looked like no intention to go around it. You hoped you weren't going to have to climb it. You were not ready to climb it, but once Kiri reached it she jumped, grabbing onto a branch above her and pulling herself up onto it.

Higher and higher, she climbed from branch to branch easily, but as she was reaching higher levels your feet were still planted firmly on the ground. Kiri paused to look down at you, who was looking up at her, like you were waiting for something.

You took one final breath, watching Kiri as she took a break from climbing to study you, watching you, waiting for your next move, and then you were climbing.

You were clumsy, struggling to move from branch to branch, and taking a different path than Kiri, but slowly you were making your way up to Kiri’s level. Once you got close enough to Kiri she jumped. She landed on a huge leaf, sliding off it and onto another one. One after another she gracefully fell until she was on the ground.

Everything in yourself told you not to do it. Every instinct told you it was a death sentence, but you didn’t listen to them. You jumped, falling onto the leaf and following what Kiri had done. You made it to the bottom, but with the final drop you landed awkwardly on your butt. You quickly scampered up, making sure you were fully intact, and you were. Nothing was broken, and the only pain was in your butt, and your ego.

Even once you reached the ground the game wasn’t over, and Kiri took off running again. You ran through the forest for a while longer, passing parts of the forest you had never been to, but right now you didn’t have the time to admire them like you would like too.

A lake was in front of you and as you thought Kiri was going to dodge it, running around the perimeter, Kiri jumped right in, swimming across before jumping out of the water on the other side.

You had never been more relieved at your decision to ditch your shoes before today. They would just drag you down, as would the rest of your clothes, but you followed after Kiri anyway.

The water was cold when you broke the surface, encompassing your body and dragging you down. You quickly breached the surface, resurfacing and looking around to find Kiri on the other side. You swam as quickly as possible and eventually made it to the other side of the lake where you hauled yourself out of the water.

You were sopping wet, water seeped into all of your clothes, making you cold in the slight wind. You shook your head, like a dog freeing themself from water, water flying off and you bent over trying to catch your breath. You almost thought Kiri was done, but before you could fully catch your breath Kiri ran off again.

Eventually you ran long enough to come to a sight you never thought you would see. The Hallelujah Mountains were even more beautiful than you could ever imagine, but there was no time to stop and stare as you were hot on Kiri’s tail, only a few feet behind her as she ran ahead.

As you neared the edge of a cliff you hesitated, but Kiri didn’t, jumping off like she knew exactly what she was doing, and she did. She quickly grabbed onto a vine and began climbing up to a smaller floating rock formation. The look on Kiri’s face was pure joy and you questioned how much of this was actual survival skills versus Kiri wanting someone to run around with.

You took a deep breath, preparing to jump, and quickly followed behind Kiri, clinging to the vine as tight as you could once it touched your hands. You wrapped your thighs around the plant and roughly pulled yourself up towards the top of the rock.

Kiri was waiting, standing on the top of the floating rock, and as you got far enough up she reached her hand out to you, pulling you up onto the rock beside her.

“You did good!” Kiri exclaimed.

“God damn you are fast!” You heaved, bent over with your hands on your knees trying to catch your breath. Your lungs worked hard, burning like a star that was dying out but trying its best to stay alive.

“So why did we do this?” You questioned.

“I want you to be equipped if another palulukan comes, and if you are going to survive the forest you have to know how to move through every part. From the ground, to trees, to water, and more.” Kiri spoke seriously, before a smile broke out on her face, “You did better than I thought you would though.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” You rolled your eyes, but a smile was on your face.

Kiri looked off to the distance, towards the expanse of floating rocks and mountains, “You’ve never seen the mountains, right?”

You nodded your head, “Yeah, they're beautiful!”

Kiri looked back to you, bumping your shoulders together, “Well, let’s explore some more then. I’ll chase you this time though.”

You just smirked at her before starting to run off, Kiri hot on your tail. You ran together for a while, Kiri not even trying to catch you because she easily could if she wanted to, but it was fun. Kiri enjoyed it more than she would admit, and you got to explore a part of Pandora you had never seen before.

As they ran Kiri smiled as the newest mysterious words came to her consciousness, “Someday she will outrun the best of warriors, someday she may outrun you, but her heart will remain.”

Word Bank:

Palulukan (Thanator)

Hallelujah Mountains (Floating mountains of Pandora)

[veliseraptor]

is it time for another 150 words meme? guess it is!!

for those who haven't been around for one of these - pick a number from the list of wips below and I will write 150 words in that project. you can send me up to three if you really can't decide on one. if you don't recognize or are curious to know more about what these are, my wip list has a brief summary of I think all of them.

twelve options and it's basically vegaspete and yi city all the way down with two wild cards

1. This place was too open and there were too many people around, none of whom he knew. There could be more of whoever those people had been around; he didn’t want to divide his focus to see if either of the two he’d dropped had ID. Pete was on his own and Vegas was compromised. “We have to go,” Pete interrupted. 

“You – what? What the fuck – are those guys dead?” 

“Sorry,” Pete said, adjusting his grip on Vegas. Then, because he felt rude and a little bit bad and Vegas did seem to like these people, he added, “have a good night.”

And he half dragged, half carried Vegas out into open air. 

Pete wavered between driving without somebody else as eyes or waiting for a car with a basically incapacitated Vegas and decided he wanted to get them out of an uncontrolled environment now. He disentangled himself from Vegas to put him in the passenger seat, which was more difficult than it sounded because Vegas didn’t want to let go and at one point bit his neck, which made it very hard for Pete to focus the way he needed to. (Drift)

2. Vegas wondered if he should try to pretend to know who he was talking about. Nobody liked hearing that the death that’d meant so much to them hadn’t made an impression. 

“You don’t even remember him, do you,” said his captor. 

“I have no idea who you are,” Vegas said. “So, no.” 

He didn’t like that, and expressed as much with another kick in the ribs. Vegas gritted his teeth so he didn’t yelp even though his vision swam and his head spun, his still mending insides vehemently protesting.  (All's Fair)

3. Xue Yang had a deep professional respect for Wei Wuxian’s work. He was, unquestionably, a master of their shared craft; Xue Yang had built a not insignificant part of his own work on the scraps of foundation he’d left behind. He was skilled, and smart, and based on his activities during the Sunshot Campaign had a nasty streak Xue Yang could appreciate. 

On a personal level Xue Yang sort of wanted to gut him with a dull knife. (demonic cultivator team up fic)

4. “Why are you guys being so weird,” he said aggressively. Vegas shot him a look that Macau met without wavering. “What? It’s making you really uncomfortable to be around.” 

“So go find somewhere else to be,” Vegas said. “Nosy.”

“I live here,” Macau said. He turned his gaze on Pete. “So?” 

Vegas could see Pete hesitating. His eyes darted toward Vegas and then away. 

“Don’t try to pry shit out of him just because you think he’ll crack before I do,” Vegas said. 

“He will, though,” Macau said, eyes still fixed on Pete. “You’ll tell me what’s going on. Right, P’Pete?” It hovered somewhere awkwardly between a wheedle and a command. Vegas reached over and smacked the back of his head.

“Cut it out, you little pest,” he said in English. 

“Did you have a fight or something?” 

Vegas’s insides seized up a little but before he could respond Pete said, “no, it’s not like that. Everything’s fine.” He smiled and Vegas felt like there was something scraping against his skin. He clenched his molars together until his jaw hurt. Macau looked even more suspicious.

“Riiight,” he said. “Sure.” (post canon vegaspete long(er) fic)

5. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Pete asked again, for the fifth or sixth time. Vegas gritted his teeth so he didn’t snap.

“Yes, I’m sure,” he said through them. “Stop asking.” Pete barely flinched before relaxing into an easy smile. 

“Okay,” he said. 

“You’ll have sightline from here,” Vegas said, by way of…not apology, but maybe it would help Pete feel a little better. “Don’t worry. I don’t think…” his voice wavered and he cleared his throat. “I won’t be long.” 

Pete scanned him with watchful eyes that didn’t quite match his smile. “You can stay as long as you want,” he said. In his eyes Vegas read I don’t like this. 

“I know I can,” he said sharply. “I wasn’t asking permission.” He turned before he could see Pete’s reaction and walked into the cemetery. (Fidelity)

6. “Can I tell you a secret,” a-Qing said, her voice now dull. Song Lan made an affirmative sound, though he tensed. A-Qing chewed her lower lip. “It’s bad,” she said. 

“Mm-mm,” Song Lan said in denial. A-Qing turned a little in his direction, looking at him through her eyelashes. 

“I think Daozhang is still in love with him,” she said despairingly. Song Lan’s heart sank, the hope that he’d been wrong dwindling to nothing. He said nothing, waiting, and a-Qing kicked her heels. “I thought he’d get over it, now that he knows how awful he always was but he still…it’s not fair. That bastard is dead and he’s still making everything worse.” 

Song Lan’s chest ached. 

“What are we going to do,” a-Qing said, her voice small and unusually young-sounding, so unlike her usual brash, confident self. 

I wish I knew. I wish I knew what was right. No, Song Lan had to admit to himself that was no longer his first question. He wished he knew what would help. Right or wrong, if it brought Xiao Xingchen some peace… (Life After Death)

7. That was the trouble, wasn’t it? Xue Yang was right: Song Lan did want him to suffer. He wanted him to feel every miserable bit of pain he’d caused him and Xingchen and so many others; he wanted him beaten down and broken and begging forgiveness that he would never, never receive. The violence of the thoughts he’d had about what he could do to Xue Yang frightened him. The ease with which he’d already done some things – nothing against the torments Xue Yang had inflicted, but that was not a standard he wanted to live by – sickened him. But that didn’t mean he didn’t crave vengeance. He hadn’t spared Xue Yang’s life out of kindness. 

“Yeah,” Xue Yang said, reading Song Lan’s silence correctly. “So there you go.”

Song Lan grimaced, closing his eyes and taking a moment to center himself before saying, “whatever – baser urges I might have, as I’ve said, that isn’t how I want to conduct myself. With anyone.” 

Xue Yang looked away from him. “Seems to keep happening, though,” he said. “So much for daoshi discipline, huh?” 

“You are remarkably good at trying my patience,” Song Lan said. Xue Yang’s eyes darted back in his direction and he laughed; this one sounded significantly less wild than some of his others. 

“It’s not just you, Song-daozhang,” Xue Yang said, his voice suddenly bright and lilting. “I try plenty of other peoples’ patience too.” 

“I can imagine,” Song Lan said, which drew another laugh from Xue Yang. 

“It’s a gift,” Xue Yang said, with a sunny smile. (Walking Far From Home)

8. Xiao Xingchen had to laugh. “I would try to coax you back out,” he said. “I’m sure you’d be a very cute tarantula.” 

Xue Yang laughed and grinned at him even more widely. “You would think tarantulas are cute,” he said. “Sure, okay. I’ll be your special tarantula and I’ll only bite other people, not you. I’m very venomous, though, so be careful.” 

Xiao Xingchen tried to look solemn. “I trust my tarantula boyfriend,” he said, but he couldn’t hold a straight face, breaking into a giggle. 

“Your first mistake,” Xue Yang said, the two of them laughing together. Then Xue Yang lit into tickling Xiao Xingchen, and Xiao Xingchen almost kicked him in the stomach by accident, and the shadows of his dream faded from his mind. (Redux)

9. So. He was back. 

He was back and he was alive and something was wrong with him.

There were a lot of things wrong with him. Clearly. Or maybe had been wrong with him all along and now it was just…exposed, laid bare, yanked out in the open where he couldn’t ignore it. 

Vegas had done a lot of things to him but Pete thought that might be the worst. (jiggety-jig)

10. “Why won’t it work, you mean?” Xue Yang said, and laughed. “I can’t tell you all my secrets, Zichen.” 

Don’t call me that, Song Lan almost wrote, but he stopped himself. There was almost certainly no better way to ensure that Xue Yang called him nothing else. Instead he wrote, I would expect you to want to brag.

“Ha,” Xue Yang said. “What would be the point? It’s not like you’d be impressed. And you already know how good I am. Was.” His smile fell away a little, momentarily, and for a split second Song Lan saw him as he’d truly been when he died, hollowed out and exhausted, bloody and beaten even before Song Lan slid Fuxue between his ribs. “You are how good I was. My greatest creation. Even more than the Yin Tiger Seal. I just remade that, after all, but you were all mine.” 

Song Lan couldn’t actually vomit but the nausea was still overpowering. (the poison in your bones)

11. Liu Mingyan was a problem. 

If she had to be fair (though Sha Hualing was not generally interested in being fair), she was less annoying than her brother, but that was setting a remarkably high bar, and she was more annoying to Sha Hualing specifically. As far as Sha Hualing could tell, Mingyan-guniang had made it her business to interfere with Sha Hualing’s business at every possible opportunity. Sometimes it seemed like she couldn’t turn around in the Human Realm without running into her, even when Sha Hualing wasn’t doing anything wrong. Or hadn’t done anything yet, anyway. 

Or at least hadn’t done anything Liu Mingyan could possibly know about. 

It wasn’t like Sha Hualing couldn’t handle her. Obviously she could; she’d defeated her one-on-one, and later on held her captive. It still made sense to be cautious. A little wary. Human beings could be tricky sometimes, and Liu Mingyan in particular made Sha Hualing uneasy. Not that she would say as much to anyone. (under pressure)

12. “All of us,” Gabriel said, “must, in our lives, learn how to surrender to some greater power. Preference may not come into it.”

Lymond’s unnaturally bright eyes blinked once. “Not mine, at any rate,” he said. “I’m sure your preference is quite informative, in this case.” 

“Your wound,” Gabriel said, removing his hands, “needs tending.” 

“And you, with your healer’s hands,” Lymond said. “Ille more suo victus pietate, nec sordes cavit, nec fetorum exhorruit.”

“I make no claims to the miraculous,” Gabriel said. “But such things come first and foremost to the faithful.”

“Accept Christ,” Lymond said, “and my deformities shall disappear. Deny him, and I am cast out of the body public. Is that it?”  (et ipsi sunt jacula)

[nanowrimo]

Back to School: Interview with Mike Fillbrandt, Young Writers Program Educator

NaNoWriMo’s Young Writers Program helps over 85,000 kids, teens, teachers, and families set creative goals and tell stories they care about. We asked some of our amazing YWP educators to share how they take on the NaNoWriMo challenge in their classroom. Today’s advice comes from Mike Fillbrandt, who teaches 9th grade English at a charter school. 

Q: What grade/ age level do you work with? What type of NaNoWriMo group is it (whole class, club, homeschool, elective, etc.)?

A: 9th grade classes, 8-12 grade club

Q: How long have you been doing NaNoWriMo with your students?

A: 5 years

Q: How do you structure the entire project (for example, do you start prepping in October and write in November, do you have kids work on it all year, etc.)?

A: Prep in October (or March depending on the year), and write in November (or April).

Q: What does a normal NaNoWriMo day look like for your students?

A: Brief self-check questionnaire, then the rest of the period to work. Some days are set aside for students to discuss their projects in small groups, to share successes, struggles, and get suggestions. Some days I hold one-on-one conferences with students to give feedback on excerpts of their projects and make suggestions for improving their writing.

Q: How do you set and manage word-count goals?

A: Students need to complete 4500 words for full points. Students who exceed 10,000 can earn extra credit. For students with special needs, I coordinate with their case manager to determine an appropriate way to adjust word goal. Students who do not reach their word count goal receive a prorated portion of the word-count points.

Q: How do you manage grading? Do you grade?

A: Yes, I grade. Grades are based on two required excerpts submitted for feedback, along with their final word count. The first excerpt, students can choose to be graded either on setting descriptions or on character building. For the second excerpt, students can choose to be graded either on plot development or on their use of dialogue. Each excerpt is worth 30 points (60 total), and the word count is worth 40 points, with a possibility of earning 50 by meeting the extra credit goal.

Q: How do you approach revision/ publishing (if at all)?

A: In my most recent classes, I have only been able to give students post-writing suggestions/materials from the packet. In previous years, we were able to use an excerpt for practice with editing/revising skills.

Q: Any NaNoWriMo tips or tricks to share with other educators? Hard-won lessons? Ah-ha moments?

A: Don't try to read every word of every student story - you'll drive yourself crazy. Instead, find a way to get a snapshot of a student's work.

Begin the process of brainstorming ideas well in advance.

Be vigilant for signs of plagiarism and/or cheap tricks to pad out a word count without actually doing any work.

Q: Have you ever run into resistance from your administration about doing NaNoWriMo, and if so, how did you manage it? What do you say to people who don’t see the point of having students write novels? 

A: When I first began, there were concerns over word count goals, which I adjusted in later years.

Q: What are the most meaningful things you or your students take away from the project? What's your best NaNoWriMo memory?

A: Confidence, belief in their own abilities, a stronger sense of time management.

My best memory was the smile on a student's face during an excerpt grading, when I told them how wonderful I thought their writing was.

Q: Anything else you'd like to add?

A: I love this project. I've been doing NaNoWriMo longer than I've been a teacher.

Mike teaches 9th grade English at a charter school. He has participated in NaNoWriMo since 2005, and has had his students participate since he's been teaching. He enjoys reading, writing, video games, disc golf, and attending a weekly writing group. He lives in Minnesota with his wife, daughter, one snake, two cats, along with an imaginary dog and an imaginary raccoon.

[masiclatraffaela]

What is it like to be an English major?

If you want to become an English major, this blog is perfectly suited for you.

I still remember the day when I finally decided to pursue this career. It was the hardest decision that I needed to make, considering that the path that I will chose would be my lifetime job. Terrifying, right? To tell you the truth, I was anxious about myself at that time because I really didn’t know what I wanted in life. In addition, I envy those people who already have a vision for their careers in the future.

But the real question is: Why did I choose to be an English major considering that I did not know what I wanted in life?

I was asked by this question multiple times, and do you know what response I always give? “I took this course because I know that there are a lot of opportunities in this field, knowing that the English language is used by many people all over the world." And those are exactly the same words that I use to say whenever they ask me. However, these thoughts and perspectives of mine all changed when I reached second-year English major. I contemplated and reflected on whether this path really was for me. One day, my friends invited me to visit our adviser when we were in high school. When I saw our alma mater, a nostalgic feeling came to my mind. Moreover, when I entered the classroom, I was a bit emotional because, for the first time in my life, I had imagined myself sharing my knowledge with these children, and as I stood in front of them with a smile on their faces, it was fulfilling. Isn't it fascinating to be called an educator? What a simple word, but the responsibility is huge, for I will be shaping and changing a person’s life. The classroom will become my stage, where I will be standing in front of these children, full of hope and dreams in their eyes. Finally, I’ve found my purpose to continue and finish this course.

Of course, there are ups and downs in the process of learning and taking this course. What is it like to be an English major?

When I was in my first year, I had to accept the fact that the treatment in college was very different in high school. I had to adjust because it was all new for me; a new school, new classmates, and a new environment. It was a bit hard in the meantime, but eventually I’ve learned to adapt and meet new friends. Then, when I reached my second year, the challenge that I needed to overcome leveled up two times. This is the stage where I want to give up, for there are so many things to do at that time. I started to question my capability because I think I’m not giving much of my effort and think it is not enough. You know the feeling that you have so much more to give, but you’re just too tired to give your hundred percent. Despite that, I still continued to fight because I knew that it would all be worth it. Now that I am in my third year, of course this year will become more challenging than the previous years, for I am one step closer to achieving my dreams, and I am looking forward to learn more.

Nonetheless, if you’re into reading and writing and love to meet new people, this course is for you. In addition, this will help you to become confident in all ways, it will enhance your speaking and writing skills because, as an English major, you have to be eloquent in speaking and creative in writing. But it doesn’t mean that you need to start well quickly. Remember that you’re still in the process of learning, and by all means, it’s okay to fail and try again because failure is part of improving yourself. Thus, if you’re an aspiring English major, go for it. If your heart and mind say that you belong to be an English major, don’t hesitate to grab the opportunity. As long as you feel that this is your calling and if this is your purpose in life, then you don’t have to worry. And just a reminder, don’t lose yourself in the process; balance everything and create an environment where you can enjoy and study at the same time. Hence, be confident and don’t be afraid to show your skills. I am rooting for your success. May we all succeed in life.

[electricbluebutterflies]

building a new piece of furniture from a flat pack together - for kabby omg the possibilities Im a scream

Modern AU, PG-ish, also on ao3.

On the bright side, they did not get banned from Ikea. Marcus is taking what he can get here.

He’s still figuring out this whole domesticity thing, especially the part where it came with a future step-daughter who actually does know how to ask for help on occasion (definitely a recessive genetic trait) and who, for some bizarre reason, has decided the right time to do that involves assembling a dining room set.

Which means, for some other unexplained reason because the women of that family don’t actually communicate, Marcus is currently trying to read instructions that seem to have come in every language but English while his fiancé makes judgmental comments about her twenty-year-old daughter’s taste in décor and said daughter is off attempting to get food or possibly seeing one of her partners, honestly that part wasn’t exactly clear and it’s generally better not to know and-

He's done worse things with a Saturday afternoon, but it’s getting hard to remember them.

The thing is, Marcus isn’t exactly the build-it-yourself type. Home repairs are, in his experience, something you pay other people to do if it’s anything that can’t be duct-taped. However, his attempts at explaining this tendency to both of the women currently taking advantage of him went unheard and-

“Do you want help?”

“Depends. You know a bit of Spanish, right?”

“Mostly what I hear at work, so not in the useful way, but… lemme look.”

With that, Abby grabs the set of instructions from his hands and-

“There are pictures, dumbass. How hard is that?”

“There are also three different sizes of screws.”

“Do you want me to do it?”

“Yes.”

He’s supposed to be proving himself. He’s supposed to be making clear that he’ll be a good addition to the family, not causing more problems, not-

“You weren’t kidding,” she murmurs, and okay there are actually four different packs of screws and-

“Your kid seemed so convinced, I couldn’t exactly tell her no.”

“My kid had an engineer as a primary parent until she was sixteen,” Abby mutters. “She’s going to have an adjustment period here.”

Ah yes, what every person trying to enter an established family dynamic wants is to be reminded of where they don’t match up to the deceased person they’re basically replacing, but-

“So we’re not telling her that you did most of it?”

“Not until or unless something breaks.”

“That likely?”

“Unlike you, I do at least know how to use a power drill, so…”

Marcus isn’t sure about this on an ethical level, and those chairs didn’t seem stable when Clarke picked them out either, but-

“Sounds fine.”

[sloanerisette]

The Adventure of the Newly Appointed Attorney - A Great Ace Attorney Digimon AU

Summary: Jou Kido is just a simple medical student when his life is thrown for a loop after being accused of murder of one of his professors. Even worse than that, what was meant to be time abroad to learn alongside the closest person to him in the world leads to the untimely death of Taichi Yagami, and Jou has to deal with the fallout of that happening. 

A Great Ace Attorney 1 AU featuring spoilers up to Episode 2.

I'm back on my bullshit with another Digimon AU because one day I had a shower thought of the trio of Ryuunosuke, Kazuma, and Susato but as Jou, Taichi, and Mimi. I just wanted to make a little something for the first bit of the game so I could write some good angst (and hint at a ship for Jou that wasn't Jyoumi lmao), as well as see how I could recontextualize the game a bit with the characters and situations being changed up a bit. So uh, I hope you enjoy! I got stuck on this a fair bit, especially at the end, so I hope y'all like it!

You can also find it on AO3 here!

---

Oh, how was this happening? How could this possibly be happening? He just wanted to say hello to one of his professors, and now he was in Japan’s Supreme Court.

Accused of murder.

Of said professor.

Jou paced around the defendant’s antechamber anxiously, head in his hands, and mumbling under his breath.

Now he was going to get arrested. He was going to be put away for life and he’d never be able to finish school. And what would his family think? What would—

“You know, if you keep doing this, they might charge you for wearing out the rug.”

Jou blinked and craned his neck around before his sight finally focused on another professor of his: Doctor Keisuke Tachikawa. He exhaled and walked over to him, bowing his head.

“Professor Tachikawa! What’re you doing here?” he asked, then blinked, “Err… not that it’s not good to see you, of course…”

The professor had a wide smile on his face and let out a hearty chuckle as he adjusted his spectacles.

“I know it’s easier said than done for you, but try to calm down a bit, if possible.”

“Right, right,” Jou mumbled to himself.

“Professor Wilson is an old friend of mine, and, well… given the grave matter of this case, I thought it would be prudent that I be here.”

Jou swallowed hard. Right. An English national killed at a Japanese university where he had been staying while he taught.

“There’s also a word of advice I have for you,” Tachikawa said, slowly stepping over to Jou. He looked at the young man, who was nearly at eye level with him, and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Wh-what is it?” Jou asked slowly.

“You know your attorney is going to be Yagami, yes?”

How could Jou forget? When his best friend had found out about the legal trouble he had fallen into, he wasted no time in offering his services to defend him.

“Yes, sir,” Jou answered.

“And you understand that soon he’ll be departing on that trip abroad to study law in England, yes?”

“Of course. It’s going to be one of the biggest opportunities for Japan,” Jou said.

“Well, what you need to know is that, due to the… precarious nature of situation,” Professor Tachikawa punctuated his words with a pause as he took off his glasses and took a moment to clean them, then put them back on, “If Yagami is unable to prove your innocence, then the trip will be called off.”

Jou’s eyes went wide and the air was pushed from his lungs.

“What? No— wait— why— why would he agree to that!?”

“Probably because he sees your innocence and believes he can prove it.”

Jou’s shoulders slumped, “But if he can’t…” he trailed off weakly.

“Yes, he won’t be able to go.”

Jou’s mind went blank as everything went still. He didn’t know what to think. How could Taichi risk the biggest possible opportunity just like that?

“…I just don’t understand why he wouldn’t tell me. If he did I would’ve never agreed to this,” Jou grumbled.

“That’s probably exactly why. From what I’ve heard from both of you, you two are incredibly close. And knowing Yagami, I doubted he wanted you to worry over him like that.”

It made sense. It was perfectly Taichi— to make sure Jou didn’t worry too much, to show that he could handle everything just fine. And Taichi could handle everything just fine. His reputation in their university’s law program was legendary, and everyone’s aspirations for him were as big as his own.

The way Professor Tachikawa’s gaze seemed to bore into Jou left him nervous. He stepped closer and set a firm hand on his shoulder.

“When you’re in the courtroom, at the start of the proceedings the judge will ask a specific question to the defense. You need to answer it before Yagami does. You must. Do you understand?”

Jou’s chest went tight, and he nodded slowly, “Of course. Yes. Anything I can do to help make sure Taichi can go study in England!”

Professor Tachikawa smiled and folded his hands behind his back.

“Very good. You’re a good, upstanding young man, Kido. I’ve no doubt you didn’t do it… so now it just needs to be made clear to the court.”

“Trust me, Professor, there won’t even be a need for a recess in this case,” a confident voice spoke up. Jou looked to see that Taichi was approaching them with a wide grin on his face. He stopped in front of them and placed his hands on his hips.

“I’ll prove your innocence in no time, Jou,” Taichi said. Jou’s eyes started to well up with tears, and he quickly wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

“Thank you for believing in me, Taichi,” Jou breathed out, and Taichi barked out a laugh.

“What kind of partner could I call myself if I didn’t believe in you? Believe me, I’d do anything for you.”

Jou looked out of the corner of his eye to see Professor Tachikawa give him a knowing look and nod.

“…It just means a lot that you believe in me.”

“Well that’ll never be in question,” Taichi told him seriously. He gripped Jou’s hand to shake and then pulled him into a hug.

“And then you and me will be tearing up Her Majesty’s capital in no time, right?” he whispered, and though Jou couldn’t see the wicked grin on his face, he just knew it was there.

“I-I still don’t know about that, Taichi…”

“Well, I still have a few more days to convince you,” he said before he released his friend. Jou rubbed his arm to help soothe the sudden shooting pain brought on by Taichi’s tight grip.

“Good luck with that, we still have to make sure I’m innocent.”

“Defendant, court is about to be in session. Enter the courtroom at once,” the bailiff’s voice boomed. Jou nearly jumped in place. Professor Tachikawa looked at them both.

“Good luck, Kido, and to you, too, Yagami.”

“Thank you sir,” Jou said with a deep bow.

“I won’t need luck,” Taichi said with a thumbs up. “Let’s get going. After all, you don’t want to be declared guilty for showing up late,” he laughed. At that, Jou’s eyes went wide and he sped into the courtroom ahead of his best friend, Professor Tachikawa’s words still ringing in his ears.

If he was found guilty… then Taichi’s chances of ever being able to learn about English law would go up in smoke in an instant. He couldn’t allow that.

The second he stepped foot inside the courtroom, he could feel all eyes on him. There were many, many men in military uniforms who were glaring daggers at him, and both the judge and prosecutor were focused solely on him. Jou adjusted his glasses as he walked as fast as he could over to the defendant’s bench without breaking into an outright run.

“It looks like they all want to eat me alive…” Jou thought, already feeling beads of sweat begin to form at the crown of his head.

“Try and look as cool, calm, and confident as you can, Jou. They will eat you alive if they smell blood in the water,” Taichi mumbled to him. Jou’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“How did you…”

“Know what you were thinking? It’s written all over your face,” Taichi smiled as they walked behind the bench. He clapped Jou on the shoulder, “You’ll be fine, trust me.”

The judge banged his gavel, causing all attention to turn his way. Jou squeaked out a sound of surprise, then turned a deep, deep shade of red out of embarrassment.

“The court will now hear the trial of Jou Kido,” the judge boomed out.

“The prosecution is ready, Your Excellency,” the middle-aged, balding prosecutor said.

“As is the defense,” Taichi said confidently. He placed one hand on his hip while the other rested on his katana.

This was… this was all too startlingly real. He was really in Japan’s highest court. On trial. For murder. Even with Taichi standing there next to him, he could still hear his heart pounding in his ears.

“Now, before we begin, there is one point of order I want to confirm: yesterday evening, the defense made a request for a last minute change of advocate,” the judge said.

“I made the request myself, yes,” Taichi nodded.

“Normally, the procedure is for the defendant’s advocacy to be decided two days prior to trial. Given the circumstances behind this trial, however, I must ask for a final confirmation: who is the advocate for the defendant in this trial?”

That was it. That was the question he needed to answer before Taichi could. It was the only way his trip to England could be guaranteed.

Jou’s arm shot up in the air in an instant.

“I am!” he shouted. The judge blinked, and then his jaw dropped in shock.

“What?”

“What’re you doing, Jou!?” Taichi hissed.

“Professor Tachikawa told me that if I’m found guilty, you won’t be able to study abroad,” Jou whispered. Taichi grit his teeth.

“I can’t believe he did that… and I can’t believe you listened to him!” Taichi shot back.

Jou’s expression fell, “Taichi, you’re my best friend, but if by chance I am found guilty, it means everything you’ve been working towards is dashed in an instant.”

“It’s why I didn’t want you to find out,” Taichi sighed. He folded his arms and shook his head.

“Then you understand where I’m coming from, too,” Jou said. Taichi nodded.

“I do.”

“Then you know that I have to do this for you no matter what. I’m sorry,” Jou said as he pushed his glasses up.

Taichi stood there, silently stewing as he stared down his best friend, looking in his eyes.

Yet Jou didn’t back down, and that caused Taichi’s lips to turn upwards a touch into a smirk.

“I can’t say I’m exactly happy about the way Professor Tachikawa told you about this, or about how you’re choosing to defend yourself over letting me handle it, but… I’ll be here to help you,” Taichi told him.

He clapped Jou on the back, and the young man fell forward, his glasses nearly slipping off his face. Jou yelped and managed to catch his glasses in time. Both the judge and the prosecutor gave him pointed glances, and Jou immediately straightened up.

“Like I said,” Jou started once he recovered, adjusting his glasses slightly, “It isn’t about not trusting or believing in you. This is just so you will be able to go and achieve your dreams in Britain no matter what.”

Plus it was his professor who was killed. A part of him wanted to try and figure out what truly happened for that just as much as for his own sake.

“So, you’ll be defending yourself then?” the judge asked. Jou nodded.

“Yes, your Excellency.”

“Well, maybe I won’t be your attorney, but I can serve as your judicial assistant,” Taichi told him.

…That was a big relief, though. Maybe he’d have some sort of chance at not being immediately declared guilty. Even just as a judicial assistant, Jou was relieved (and incredibly lucky) to have Taichi’s assistance.

“As you are aware, you are in the Supreme Court of Judicature of Japan. I hold everyone in this courtroom to the highest standards of conduct. Everyone. Do I make myself clear, Defendant Kido?”

“Yes, your Excellency,” Jou nodded again. Taichi leaned in close to whisper.

“Try to calm down a little, you’re sweating,” he said, at which Jou’s eyes went wide and he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “You’ll be fine. You just need to believe in yourself more.”

“Just believe in myself, more,” Jou thought as he swallowed hard, “Easier said than done, Taichi… We aren’t all you, after all…”

Not everyone could be as brave as Taichi Yagami. Frankly, Jou didn’t think anyone could be on the man’s level.

But now, it was time for him to save himself and secure Taichi’s future.

***

Somehow, he had done it. He had managed to point out the true killer of Professor Wilson with the help of Taichi’s keen eye and his own medical knowledge, and was able to secure his innocence.

But to think a classmate of his had killed their professor… and with poison, no less. It was chilling— no, terrifying— to think about, which was why that night he had done his best not to think about it. At all.

A knock on the door helped Jou distract himself from the way his thoughts were getting increasingly closer to thinking about the young British woman and the way she had coldly and callously poisoned their professor without an ounce of regret, and he smiled when he opened the door and saw who it was.

“Taichi, what’re you doing here? It’s late,” Jou said.

“You didn’t think you were going to call it a day without a celebration, did you?” Taichi asked with a wicked grin before he forced himself into Jou’s room, revealing a small bottle of sake and some glasses that he brought along with him.

“I hope you didn’t put yourself out getting that…” Jou mumbled, but Taichi shook his head.

“You worry too much, Jou. You really don’t want a drink after a long day having people assume you were a murderer?” he asked. Jou blanched.

“With how much my stomach is roiling? Not particularly…” he grumbled. However, Taichi wasn’t deterred, and started to pour for them both.

“Come on, you deserve it. You defended yourself in Japan’s Supreme Court! Not many get to say that.”

Taichi held up a glass to Jou, who fixed it with a withering gaze, before he eventually sighed and took it.

“Fine, but neither of us are getting drunk,” he said, then took a sip. “Feel free to sit wherever you want,” Jou said as he settled onto a nearby chair. Taichi pulled a chair from Jou’s desk and brought it over before he plopped himself down.

The look in his eyes… Jou already knew what he was going to say.

“No,” Jou said as soon as Taichi opened his mouth.

“I didn’t even say anything yet!” Taichi shot back.

“You were going to bring up me joining you on your study trip abroad, weren’t you?” Jou asked. There was no guilty look on his best friend’s face, but instead a wide, satisfied grin.

“Of course I was,” he said, “Think about it! You and me tearing up London town! It’ll be great!” Tai said before he took a long drink.

“It’s almost like he was the one on trial when he drinks like that…” Jou thought before he took another sip.

“I’ll be a stowaway!” Jou hissed, “Imagine how much trouble we’ll get in when I’m discovered! How much trouble you’ll be in!”

“But just think about the adventure of it!” Taichi said, quite literally waving off the medical student’s concerns.

“An adventure that includes nearly two months at sea during which I could easily be discovered?” Jou asked. Taichi leaned forward and quirked a brow.

“Weren’t you the one talking about how much he wanted to learn about English medicine?” Taichi asked smoothly. Jou flushed slightly as he glanced to the side. He gently scratched his cheek.

“Ah, well…”

“Imagine the difference we could make here! We go to England, learn about English law and English medicine, and then we can come back home to put everything we’ve learned to use!”

Jou had to admit, it was incredibly tempting. They weren’t even doing autopsies here.

But there was something holding him back. His usual nature, if he had to guess: incredibly hesitant to go outside of his comfort zone, and even more hesitant to step outside of what his family had planned for him. They expected him to graduate university and subsequently start working at his father’s office, with no chance to forge his own path ahead.

Jou drummed his fingers on the table, his leg bouncing nervously.

“I just… I don’t know, Taichi…” he sighed. Taichi frowned and gently placed a hand on Jou’s shoulder.

“Whatever you choose, I’ll support you. I mean, admittedly… I want you to go with me for some selfish reasons, but I think we could do a lot of good together once the trip is done,” he said, his lips slowly turning upwards into a smile.

“There’s a few more days until I leave, so… just think about it, ok?”

Jou stared down at his sake as he listened to his friend, then finished the rest and let the cup hit the table with a clang. He looked up at his friend, unable to help but smile, too. Taichi’s support had always meant the world, and… damnit if he wasn’t a good speaker. It wasn’t surprising just why he was chosen for this study trip given the skills he showed despite being so young.

“I’ll honestly, genuinely consider it, I promise,” Jou said. Tai’s smile broke into a grin.

“That’s all I’m asking for,” he said before he finished his own drink. His eyes moved towards the bottle, “So, round two?”

Jou removed his glasses, pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes, and sighed.

“No, Taichi, I am not letting you convince me to have a second round this time. And you don’t need one given the fact that you have class tomorrow!” Jou chided. He put his glasses on to see his friend’s teasing smile.

“Worth a try, right?” he laughed. Jou shook his head, but couldn’t contain the mirth he was feeling.

“Yeah, worth a try,” he chuckled, before his expression turned somber.

“…If I decide not to go, I hope you know I’ll miss you,” Jou said quietly.

“I’ll miss you, too. But don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of stories to tell each other once I’m back,” Tai assured him, before he started to snicker, “Even if mine will be more exciting.”

Jou smiled and laughed, “I can’t wait to hear all about them.”

***

Even if they had solved the mystery of Taichi’s untimely death, Jou couldn’t help but still feel… hollow.

They, of course, being himself, Mimi Tachikawa, the young woman who was to accompany Taichi on this trip as his judicial assistant, and a famous British detective who had been the one to ultimately confirm that it was all just an accident and a misunderstanding.

A young Russian ballerina had been terrified Taichi would reveal to the captain that she was smuggled onto the ship and would lead to her being sent back to her home country. She hadn’t meant to kill him, but it still hurt.

Maybe it hurt more knowing it was just an accident.

Although it was declared that both he and Mimi would have to go back to Japan once the ship reached port in Hong Kong, due to the study trip no longer having a lawyer present, the famous British detective (who Mimi-san seemed to know about? Apparently she read some stories of his in a British magazine?) that helped make sure Jou escaped being convicted for Taichi’s death had given the suggestion that led him to where he was now.

“If the study trip calls for one lawyer and one judicial assistant, and you already have one judicial assistant, then all you need is one lawyer, correct?”

He was going to be the lawyer. The Japanese inspector who had come along on the trip to see Taichi and Mimi safely to England had, with a resigned sigh, told them that he would send a telegram to the Department of Justice about the situation, and now he had his goal: gain enough knowledge to be a lawyer in just over a month. It was the only way to keep Taichi’s dream going.

He had no idea how it would possibly work out, but it was the least Jou could do for his best friend.

It was late into the evening, and Jou and Mimi were sitting at the small table in Taichi’s room, which Jou was now taking proper residence in. There were multiple books laid out across the table, and Jou was furiously taking notes by candlelight. Jou thought that after all of this time he might finally be all cried out, but that didn’t stop the occasional tear from leaking out or the need to sniffle from arising. He was incredibly determined to be able to serve as the lawyer on this study trip abroad to carry on Taichi’s legacy, and that meant he couldn’t take a break. Even though Mimi had insisted that he get some sleep sooner than later, Jou had just about begged her for an extra hour to work.

His mind was a mess, and staying up studying wasn’t helping him one bit, but the tea Professor Tachikawa’s daughter had made— as well as her assistance in going over the material— had done a lot to help keep him going.

Studying was something he was all too used to, but studying law was a different beast entirely. He was completely out of his element, and though he had a lucky break in Japan’s Supreme Court, he wasn’t a lawyer, not anywhere close. But he had to try.

He was good at putting his head down to study and work, and he needed all the time he could muster until they reached England’s foggy shores.

The young man flipped through a page of one of the books Mimi brought out for studying, and wiped away a light sheen of sweat that started to form at his forehead.

“Kido-san, I know you want to keep working, but you’ll lose more chances to learn if you’re in need of bed rest from falling ill due to exhaustion…” she pleaded quietly. Jou finished scribbling out another few lines of notes before he looked up at her, blinking a few times as he took a moment to adjust to a view that wasn’t books and parchment.

Like him, Mimi seemed all cried out. Her eyes were still red and puffy, and she gripped a handkerchief tight in her hand. As much as he didn’t want to stop due to the risk of not having a chance to fully absorb everything he had looked at tonight, she was right. If he got sick and couldn’t so much as look at a book, there would be no doubt he’d have to go back home…

Jou closed his eyes and nodded, then set his quill down and pushed the book forward.

“You’re right. My apologies, Mimi-san, I just… I can’t let Taichi down,” he sighed, eyes looking down at his notes— which had become increasingly messier during the hours he spent writing.

“I understand,” she nodded curtly, her voice quiet, “This… still isn’t easy to accept.”

Jou wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to truly accept that the person closest to him was gone forever…

“Mimi-san, how did you and Taichi come to know each other? I-I understand if it’s too painful to talk about right now, but I can’t help but be a bit curious.”

Mimi’s eyes widened for a moment, surprised by the question, then her shoulders slumped.

“He’s my adoptive brother.”

During the time he had come to know Taichi, and how they became best friends at university, he learned about the unfortunate passing of his parents, but he certainly never knew this…

“O-oh,” he choked out weakly.

“His father and mine were close friends, and were off in England on a study trip shortly after I was born. However, he passed away there, and not long after… Taichi’s mother passed away, too.”

Jou’s throat felt tight, and the tears started to well up in his eyes again.

“My father took him and his younger sister in, feeling it was the least he could do to honor his parents. Although him and I weren’t that young, we still grew up together, and when he decided to pursue law like his father, I wanted to do all I could to help him,” she explained.

Through Jou’s blurry vision, he could see that Mimi was on the verge of breaking down again, too.

He felt his heart break again, not just from the loss of his best friend, but from Mimi losing her brother, too. And Taichi’s younger sister, who had to say goodbye as he left for a foreign land, only to never return and greet her again. Taichi had been through so much and wanted to do what he could to learn about law like his father, had so many big things he wished to accomplish over in England, but now…

The image of Taichi’s limp body flashed through his mind, and he clenched his eyes shut, unable to hold back from sobbing again. He quickly pulled his glasses off and buried his face in his sleeve to try and hide it, however fruitless it was. Over the noise of his own crying he could barely hear Mimi’s own sobbing.

For a while, the only noise that filled the room was the two of them crying.

When they finally managed to gather themselves, Jou slowly closed the book, his hand resting on the cover. This was Taichi’s book. Taichi’s book that was, at least for now, his.

Mimi gathered her things and walked to the door, and even Jou was able to tell that her steps were tired and heavy.

“I’m sorry. I-I was just curious. I didn’t realize just how painful that was for you to talk about,” Jou said as he stood up. He offered her a deep bow at the waist. Despite how sad she was, Mimi shook her head and managed to keep up a smile.

“Please don’t worry, Kido-san. Thinking about Taichi-sama just reminded me how seriously we have to take the rest of this trip,” she said. There was a hint of fight in her voice, and she curled up her hands into fists, her handkerchief crumpled inside with bits of cloth poking out from between her fingers. Somehow Mimi-san’s determination managed to be the slightest bit contagious.

“You’re right. Whatever Taichi wanted to accomplish in England is our responsibility now. And I promise, for his sake, we will see it through.”

“We will,” she added, “And we will begin by studying bright and early tomorrow! So make sure you get your sleep, Kido-san.”

“Good night, Mimi-san,” Jou said, watching as the young woman wordlessly left the room. Jou closed the door and fell back against it, feeling all of the adrenaline from the day’s events finally drain away. He looked at the bed, unable to help but feel relieved at the mere thought of sleep.

But then his eyes glanced towards the small pile of books and his notes. More than that, his eyes focused on Taichi’s sheathed katana, which leaned against the wall.

Jou bit his lip, then quickly strode towards the table and just about collapsed into his chair. He gathered his papers and hunched over his work once again.

Mimi-san was right, there was the risk of him working himself to exhaustion, but there was too much at stake here.

Taichi was determined to take what he learned in England to change how law was practiced in Japan, and even if Jou had been training to be a doctor, he was more than ready to shake that all up for his best friend.

Until he set foot back in Japan, however long that may be, he was going to do his best to be a lawyer his best friend would be proud of. As well as that, he would be the friend that would accomplish whatever goals and dreams that Taichi wanted to come true out there.

Taichi was the most important person in his life, without a doubt. He was his best friend— he was his—

Jou’s grip loosened and the quill fell from his fingers as his eyes started to flutter closed. His head slowly rocked back and forth.

“Need to… need to…” he muttered sleepily, before he fell forward, his cheek smudging his most recent notes about Japanese court procedure.

After being up since the early hours of the morning, dead set on discovering the truth of what happened while he slept, sleep finally claimed him once again.

Now, it was just a matter of continuing on in the morning to make sure Taichi’s hopes and dreams come true.

[bwsdragon]

The Flame of the Soul

a creative writing piece I did for an English assignment a while ago. we had to compose a piece inspired by a childhood photo, i will not disclose the photo for privacy. Enjoy, I worked really hard on it.

Story below :))

All fires flicker out eventually, no flame burns forever, for there is nothing that can withstand its consuming heat. A fire can terrorise towns, decimate forests, slaughter thousands, but it will always flicker out eventually. 

The human spirit is a similar thing, it doesn’t matter how long or harsh it dances. Whether plunged to death by water or merely consuming all to be consumed, it always burns out. A child’s spirit is fierce and brave, ready and rearing to face the world, a flame that is bright and hot, but contained. Mine was not. I was hot, hotter than any could handle, there was no wood that could withstand my flames, no person who could brave the wildfire… not even I could handle them back then. To burn oneself at such a young age is a terrible thing to witness. My flames were out of control, for I wasn’t taught how control. I was never taught the skills needed, never taught to only add the wood I needed, to keep myself contained and within distance to a well. No, it was expected. Expected that I should know how to douse myself in cold water, to know how many logs is the right amount.

Such things are supposed to be “common” knowledge, and as such I would be treated like an arsonist. I was purposefully letting my flames hurt others, I was choosing to not douse my flames when they got too hot, and if I let my flames flicker out? I was just seeking attention, and that it’s just because I wanted others to put logs in my fire for me.

There was a time I would try to match my flame to others, to only add as many logs as they did. But my logs aren’t as durable as theirs, and I flicker too easily. You’re not supposed to flicker, there is an expected level of heat that everyone must maintain, but mine just isn’t maintainable. I can adjust to reach such a level, but to hold it without fluctuations? It’s of such a difficulty that it feels an impossible task. My flames are fickle, but I am expected to maintain them anyway?

I cannot know when to add logs to my fire, or when my heat is too hot. It often takes until someone becomes distant that I am made aware. To me the heat is just me, my intense flames do not burn me as easily, it is what I understand to be a normal temperature. But others do not like my flames, I do not understand why.

There was one. A boy who did not mind my heat, who found my flames easy to withstand. His flames were weak however, and next to a blaze would douse himself to hide within such a flurry. For a while we hid together, until I began to struggle to keep my flames contained, until they started rebelling against my command. In one way it was a gift, to burn so brightly, to be unable to douse my flames. Our dictator was hotter, hotter than either of us could handle, but we stayed despite it, too loyal to our friend to seek shelter for our wounds. My heat wasn’t so adherent in the way the woman had wished. While in comparison it was small, it was still not enough, and the more she pushed the hotter I burned, until she left us, Maki and I, without a flicker of a reason. Soaked and charcoaled but at least we had each other to lean on.

We have healed now, although our logs still bare some scars, we have grown past it. Maki’s flames have grown strong to complement my own, but I am scared, scared he will run from my flames eventually, scared I will take the place of the woman before me.

Despite my fears, more have sought out the warmth of my flames, have set up a campfire to feed off my heat. They are all weak in comparison, yet they do not burn. They treat my flames like any other, occasionally seeking them in particular to warm their cold hands.

I have often wondered why the friends I keep never last long, I have blamed my fire, blamed my incapability of managing it. Missed their warmth so thoroughly I had questioned whether I should douse my flames as punishment. Had grown so angry towards myself I had manually removed logs in hope my flame would flicker out.

I have accepted my fate as of now, and acknowledged that my flames are just hotter, and while others may not bare it, may seek to douse them, it’s the ones who stay that matter. As it’s the ones who add logs on my behalf who are deserving of my flames.

The past is painful, lonely, harsh, but it doesn’t dictate the future. My flames will never be doused, for I will not let them. Until they naturally flicker, I will keep adding all the logs I need. I won’t let others tell me to take away some logs, but I will embrace the ones who add more to the fire. A fire should not be supported by one, but by a community of people who wish to find comfort in its warmth. If someone finds my heat too intense, they can merely join a camp with a softer flame. For it is not my responsibility to change myself for someone who may not enjoy my heat, for to douse my flame is to take away everything that makes me myself.

[gintamatranslations]

3Z Ginpachi Sensei: Funky Monkey Teachers - Lecture 3 “Playing Doctor as adults is not the same as playing Doctor as children”  - Chapter 3

This is the third chapter of lecture 3 titled "Playing Doctor as adults is not the same as playing Doctor as children"

Disclaimers:

1) No reposting on your own blogs or copying of the translation text itself.

2) If you can afford it, please buy the official releases in japanese. If you want more content, you need to support through buying the products!

3) I do not own anything related to the Gintama franchise. This is a fan translation and I do not gain financial profit from it.

4) Mistakes and mistranslations might happen a lot. I am learning japanese for barely two years now. I try to translate the japanese text into a logical english structure, but that is hard with my limited knowledge.

Chapter Masterlist here

The location changed.

After the measurements and medical examinations in the gymnasium were over, it was time for chest X-rays in a bus parked near the gymnasium.

The bus was a special bus equipped for this purpose. The students had to hug the machine which was adjusted to chest level.

They had to inhale and hold their breath for a few seconds. During that time, Ginpachi and Tsukuyo, who were behind the partition door, operated the machine and took pictures.

“Oi, is it safe to use such a machine without any training?” Tsukuyo said with a worried look as expected, but Ginpachi nodded. "It'll be fine."

"Look at this machine. The manufacturer's name is Bantomitakanamu Games."

"A toy!? Is this a toy!?" Tsukuyo’s eyes widened.

I don't know about the specifics, but I read the instruction manual (Ginpachi emphasizes the word instruction manual in the japanese original) and it seems pretty easy. It says you don't need any special knowledge to use it," Ginpachi said, waving the manual in the air. That’s the reason there were no specialist technicians in the car, in other words, is probably because the machine was so easy to operate.

So, the photographing began.

Students took turns getting in and standing in front of the machine. Ginpachi gave instructions from the other side of the partition, "Yes, take a breath. Yes, stop. Yes, that's fine."

He wasn’t sure if it was a toy or a medical device, but the machine itself seemed to be working properly. The monitor in front of Ginpachi clearly showed the inside of a chest - ribs, lungs, and so on.

The picture-taking went very smoothly. Until, however, it was 3Z's turn.

"Pleased to meet you,” Sogo Okita stood in front of the machine.

Feeling prepared for this guy first, Ginpachi gave him the instructions.

“Yes, well, take a breath…..Yes, stop. Yes, fine."

On the monitor, the inside of Okita's chest was clearly shown. Lungs, ribs, and the words ‘Hijikata die’ – No, no, no! What is this text message!

As Ginpachi was perplexed, Tsukuyo whispered to him. "Ginpachi, it seems that this machine takes pictures of everything inside of your chest.”

"No, I mean, it’s not just your lungs, it's also picking up your heart's voice inside your chest!”

After Okita, Hijikata stood in front of the machine.

So, when Ginpachi took a picture, this was displayed on the monitor:

"You're the one who should die, Sougo."

– No, you’re not supposed to display that! I mean, why does it say, "You're the one" as if you were talking to Okita just now!

Next in line was Kondo.

“It is weird, isn't it? Why is it like a conversation?”

– No, you're insane! Why is it that you can hear my heart's tsukkomi! No no no, something is wrong with this machine. It had been working fine until then, but now it suddenly went haywire. Anyway, after this, the monitor continued to display the message on the lungs and ribs.

Yamazaki was like this:

“Anpan Tama-san Anpan Tama-san Anpan Tama-san Anpan Tama-san Anpan Tama-san Anpan Tama-san Anpan Tama-san Anpan Tama-san Anpan Tama-san Anpan Tama-san Anpan Tama-san Anpan Tama-san Anpan Tama-san Anpan Tama-san Anpan Tama-san Anpan Tamakin Anpan Tama-san Anpan Tama-san”

You're like this here, too! How much you're captivated by Anpan and Tama-san!

Then, Tsukuyo whispered to him.

"Oh my God.........”

“What is it?”

“One of the "Tama-san" is "Tama-kin" ......" (*author's note, let's look for it too)

“No, I don't care! How did you figure that out?!”

And after Zaki, it was Sacchan.

“Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin Gin”

– Hey! This is just a brain maker, isn't it! (I don’t know what exactly to translate this to, but this is what google showed me:)

Then, Tsukuyo said again:

"Oh my God….."

“What is it this time?”

“One Character in ‘Gin’ says ‘pig’.” (*Author's note: Let's look for it, too.)

“You know exactly what you're talking about! And the author's note is annoying!"

And after Sacchan, it was Catherine. This is the stuff that showed up:

“Money Money Money Money Money Money Money Money Money Money Money Money Money Money Money Money Money Money Money Money Money Money Money Money”

–ASCII art! How obsessed with money is this bastard! (ASCII art is art made with numbers and letters)

Next to Katherine, Tojo:

“Waka Waka Waka Waka Waka Waka Waka Waka Waka Waka Waka Waka Waka Waka Waka Waka Waka Waka Waka Waka Waka Waka Waka Waka Waka Waka Waka” (This is what Tojo calls Kyuubei, basically meaning ‘Young master’)

–I knew it! Your love for the young master is too heavy!

So, after Tojo, there wasTakeichi:

-That's why I'm scared! That's not what this means! 

Just when Ginpachi was getting tired of giving the tsukkomi, Kagura got on the bus.Kagura's hair was standing up again.

“I've already measured your height, so you don't have to make your head look like TOSHI..” Kagura looked surprised when Ginpachi said that.

"Eh, because this bus... isn't it a bus for X-exclusive photography?"

–No, X, it’s not that X!

Feeling weak, Ginpachi interfered.

–And don't give me that smug look! What's with the "I told you so" look!

"Isn't that the bus for the X-Specialty shoot?"

– You're being a pain in the ass! I can hear you!

"Isn't this the bus for the X-rated shoot?"

Third time!? What, do I have to say, "Good!" to make it end?  What a pain in the ass!

Then, Tsukuyo said, crossing her hands in the shape of an X

“For the one who persists too much, it’s not an X, it’s an X.” (she says ‘batsu’ which refers to the x-mark over the wrong answer in a test)

"Good!", Ginpachi said without thinking.

[causeimhappinesss]

Warm me up, Captain - Chris Redfield (smut)

Pairing: Chris Redfield x reader

Warnings: smut + wrap your biscuit, please + slight spoilers (RE village) I guess?

Disclaimer: I’m french and even if I’m learning English for ten fucking years, it’s not perfect and I’m sorry if there are spelling or grammar mistakes. If English is your native language (or if you’re bilingual), I would really appreciate it if you could help me by correcting my errors. Just don’t be too harsh, please. :)

***

"I'm so sick of this shit..." you sighed. You knew you couldn't give up on your efforts so easily, let alone so close to the goal. You had to find Ethan first to stop him from doing anything and no matter how many times you begged Chris to tell him the truth because Winters was known for never giving up, he refused to listen to you. What a stubborn man!

You chattered your teeth, it was so cold, much colder than you imagined in the Carpathians, in Romania. Although you were wrapped up in relatively warm winter clothes, it didn't change the fact that the snow and the freezing wind in the middle of the night made it difficult for you to move forward. Shivers kept running through your body. The only thing that kept you from being totally frozen was the activity, the running, the eliminating of enemies; it warmed you up.

"You look freezing... Are you going to be okay? "

"Yes, Captain. "

You had joined his team for good reason and you had fought to be one of the best, you didn't intend to let your fragility faced with temperatures get the better of you. When you entered Heisenberg's factory, that crazy German or Austrian guy, you quickly encountered enemies to take down and soon you found yourself running through this creepy place from the first to the last level... During the operation, the team members scattered, looking for the master of the place and possibly Miranda. Arriving at the fifth level, Chris and you decided to take a break and examine the tank at your disposal... Taking advantage of the calm and the refuge that the place offered for the moment, immersed in the darkness, you rubbed your arms in reaction to the shivers that ran down your spine.

"I'm going to look around, to see if there's anything interesting. " you indicated, in a solemn voice, in order to scan the place with your eyes. Then you started to look around, in case you find a weapon, ammunition, a grenade or something else. Why not find a new lead, which would allow you to meet your objectives much faster.

"A cartridge! "you exclaimed with a thin smile. You bent down to pick up the bullets and put them away, aware that you would need them. It wasn't out of the question that you might run out at some point.

Chris studying the tank, ready to call your name, turned and froze when his gaze lingered on your ass. Suddenly he felt hot and couldn't rest his gaze on that part of your body. You hadn't known each other for months, the situation was horrible and complicated, but he was an older man with good taste in women. He had always thought you were beautiful and you were in front of him, in an exciting position. He wished he could stroke your curves, fuck you here and hear your moans, even though it wasn't safe to do it here... Why was he imagining all this? Now? He wasn't a twenty year old with raging hormones anymore! While fantasizing about you for less than a minute, he felt his cock harden in his black pants.

"Shit..." he swore into his beard as he looked down at his nearly invisible boner before feeling himself. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to scroll through the most sickening images before his eyes that his brain could produce. His erection didn’t subside. When he opened his eyes, he swiveled slightly to the side, you had stood up and turned your beautiful and cute face towards him.

Without noticing his crotch problem thanks to the dim light and his dark pants, you moved closer to him, still rubbing your arms. It didn't escape his gaze and instinctively, he helped you to warm up with these frictions, much more efficient than you with his thick and chalky hands.

"T-Thank you, Captain..." you stammered, as your cheeks flushed with the closeness. You had always been attracted to Redfield, from the first time you saw him and talked to him. You liked everything about him: his kindness, his open-mindedness, his grumpy and stubborn side, his authority... Your face so close to his muscular chest, his hands on your arms, you dreamed of a simple hug, but you couldn't afford it... He was your superior! Suddenly, a bang and a shake from below pulled you out of your little bubble moment. You clung to his biceps, bumped into his chest and your lower abdomen pressed against his erection.

Your cheekbones flushed even more, if that's possible. You weren't that naive, you knew you were the reason for his erection. Your heart missed a beat. Your whole body was on fire. You had wanted Chris... for a long time. Some nights you dreamed of him, of him fucking you so hard. He was completely your type, even though you were in the middle of a major operation, you needed to kiss him, to enjoy the moment. Your breath quickened and you both stood up, bewildered

"I'm sorry, Y/N...” He sighed, scratching the back of his neck.

Too late to apologize, you wanted him to do everything you'd been dreaming of for months... Fuck you to the point you forget your own name.

"Kiss me." You cut him off, nervously. Was it right? No one could judge you at the time, but morally... You were a little confused. After all, he was your captain, your leader!

Without hesitation, Chris framed your face between his two thick, stubby hands. He pressed his lips to yours for a passionate kiss. One of his hands slid to your waist as your tongues danced wildly. It didn't feel wrong. You were ecstatic. It was as if you had known him for years and trusted him with your heart. Desire... Something that was hard to avoid. Hands everywhere, seeking body heat, discovering a new body. You admired his toned chest, tracing his abs and smooth skin with your fingertips, sensually.

It was a dangerous game to embark on a quick fuck, in such a place, that day, but you needed this. You couldn't imagine what was going to happen in the next few hours and you reminded yourself that life was short, especially these days... As much as possible, you needed to enjoy this sweet, sexual moment.

In a few moments, he ran his fingers over your body, pulled up your sweater, pulled down your bra to reveal your breasts, which he enjoyed titillating and kissing with fervor. Shivers ran through your whole body. Your pussy was getting wet and your wetness was sticking to the fabric of your panties. He got rid of your pants, while you opened his, lowered them, along with his boxers. With joy, you discovered a large and long veiny penis, reddish, twitching with desire. His kisses and embraces warmed your skin, feeling his lips brush against your chest, a teasing look on his face, to excite you like you'd never been before.

"Captain... Warm me up... I'm freezing..." you whispered in the hollow of his ear, mischievously.

His thumb traveled to your warm, wet center, between your thighs, before he gets ride of your panties. As he tickled your most sensitive part, you closed your eyes and a soft moan escaped your lips. He was experienced, that was obvious. He varied the pressure and movements on your clit to bring you up to cloud nine. His expert fingers plunged into your warmth, coming to tickle your oh-so-sensitive vaginal walls, while you craved his huge cock. You were trembling and exuding desire. You bit your lower lip to avoid being loud, at the same time you felt your first orgasm rising and before you could reach it, he stopped his movements. You opened your eyelids and came to caress his erect, hard member, its red head, covered with precum... You salivated with impatience. You made some movements of back and forth with your hand and if you dreamed to suck him, to make him beg you to make him cum, you knew that you didn't have much time, but you kissed the tip. Sighs of pleasure, almost inaudible, passed the barrier of his lips, as he threw his head back.

"Let me warm you up, Y/N..."

Finally, he stopped you in your tracks and with a simple gesture, you jumped. Your legs were wrapped around his pelvis as he supported you by your buttocks. With your back pressed against the wall behind you, you couldn't move as he was about to lead the way. The head of his pinkish cock titillated your wet, hot entrance, which begged him to take you. He knew how to drive you crazy, to the point where you dreamed of forcing him to impale you. Seeming to guess in your thoughts, to read in your eyes veiled with desire, he was in you with a single thrust.

"Oh fuck..." he moaned. You whined slightly together at the sensation. He let you adjust to his size before he began to move back and forth. The faster and more intense his thrusts were, the more you struggled to stay quiet. With one hand, he pressed his hand against your mouth as you tightened your legs around his hips, one hand on his buttocks to push his member further into you while the other played with his hair. You were drunk with love, with sex.

“Faster… Harder…” you wanted to say.

He quickened the pace, so much so that the pleasure became intense. Raucous moans escaped from his lips as you sobbed against his hand. You were gradually approaching orgasm, both at the same pace... At that moment, we could just hear your skins snapping, your faint moans, and the sound of your juices.

"You feel so good... So tight…" he whispered.

As your vagina tightened around his member during your orgasm, he lost control of his rhythm, he pounded into you brutally and it didn't take him long to ride his own orgasm. The feeling of intense well-being and euphoria took hold of him, letting his hot cum pour into your clenching pussy, filling you completely. Gradually, his movements stopped, although he was still supporting you... He finally withdrew, as droplets of his semen flowed from your orifice, reddened, until then martyred by his cock. A smile of satisfaction and euphoria stretched his lips.

"We should do this again when we leave this fucking village. " he annouced while sending you a wink.

***

Instagram (writer) : @carolinemertz_ 

AO3 : maybe one day? Still waiting to create an account aha

[weltenwellen]

Hi there! I saw your answer to an anon about befriending a German person, and I thought I'd love to get your insight to an opposite question, if you don't mind!

My younger sister just moved to Germany for her Bachelor's degree.. she learnt German up to level B1, and I was wondering if you have any tips that can help her make friends there!

She doesn't drink and doesn't like going to bars or anything, she's brilliant academically (a bit of a genius tbh) but she struggles a lot socially. She's very kind but painfully shy. Do you have any advice for her (especially any "Do Not Do This" advice so that she doesn't get herself into an awkward situation/make a bad first impression on her classmates?)

She's going to be studying in a hochshule in a quiet city and live in a studentenwerk hostel, if that matters!

Thank you so much!!

That's a super interesting question the part about what are unspoken "Do Not Do This" rules when meeting Germans. I think we're somewhat accepting of people or students at least are, especially when starting a bachelor degree they are more welcoming than normally because everybody is somewhat adapting to new circumstances. Does she like to speak German or does she switch to English to feel more comfortable? Because one thing I find very rude that some people do is speak German even though there is someone who does not at all speak German or only to some degree & especially if she's shy then that can be very off-putting and hurtful (but we're not all like that, I promise). So first thing I'd say don't be discouraged. I honest don't know what things she definitely should not do. If there are other Germans who can think of unspoken rules, please let me know about those.

But as for her not drinking, I found that hard too since I don't drink either. So for meeting people, especially in a more quiet city that is not termed as a "Studentenstadt" (a city which has a high percentage of students), I think it would be good to meet people through her own interests (what comes to mind right now would be doing a higher German course to meet other international students, go in the first semester to a few events targeted at first year students and/or International students which don't involve drinking or sign up for a sport, activity or interest completely outside of the university. I've had social anxiety in the last couple of years and every time I was abroad I've met plenty of wonderful people through doing crossfit. I am not saying your sister should sign up for especially that but if she's shy it might help her to do something she loves and to meet people through that & in a space she's comfortable in & then they're also people who at least have one shared interest. "Hochschulen" are a little different to universities so I am not sure how much they offer for activities and sport but especially in the beginning they should offer plenty opportunities to meet people.

I know it's a lot to move to another country, to start a bachelor and to make friends when you're shy but I think the beginning of a bachelor's program, especially if it's a somewhat smaller program, is very important for meeting people in Germany. Of course you mix a little bit through new seminars and as you move through each semester but annoyingly German students often stick to what they're familiar with. I think especially through Covid your sister would have a chance though that there is less partying and more quieter evenings and get-togethers at the moment. So maybe if she's met a few people in her "Studentenwerk", get her to tag along to a few things. There are plenty of people who are very similar to her but if they're all very shy they might all be in hiding a little bit :) But everybody is adjusting to a new semester, a new program and managing still in the pandemic. Maybe if you can, be a little pushy with her to get out there and try a few things and don't let her get discouraged by the people who act a little cold & indifferent. There are a lot of kinder Germans out there too :)

[angryschnauzer]

Henry got excited when his new running torch came. And wanted to show you that itll be good for more than just running in the dark...

Roarry you are the source of inspiration for so many stories, and for this one i’ve continued my Rugby Teacher Henry series;

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Outdoor Sex.

Pairing: Rugby Teacher Henry x Teacher Wife Reader

Previous parts: Thigh Riding, and Jingle My Bells 

An Epic Quickie

The sound of the doorbell chiming had you pulling the pillow over your head. It was early on a Saturday morning and it had been a very long week. 

As a school teacher during a pandemic you’d had to quickly adapt to teaching ‘home learning’, and to a class of thirty 5 and 6 year olds that had the attention span of a slug, combined with stressed out parents that were trying to juggle working from home with childcare, homeschool experts, and sometimes entertaining multiple children of different ages, you had also become IT support for them too. 

Henry had it a lot easier. Not only did he teach PE which meant simply recording videos of tasks and setting it for his students, there was little to no work that needed to be submitted apart from the oldest class of his high school students that were working towards their exams. 

You groaned as the warmth of Henry left the bed and he excitedly dashed for the door as you shouted out;

“Clothes Henry, put some clothes on”

Only last week he’d given the Uber Eats delivery guy an eyeful after ordering breakfast and had ‘forgotten’ that he had ordered from the comfort of your bed, where he slept naked.

Moments later you heard him returning up the stairs, obviously taking them two at a time before he burst in the bedroom door;

“Babe, what do you think?!”

Peering out from under the pillow you took in the sight of your husband; standing in the doorway wearing nothing but your hawaiian print satin kimono that barely came to his thighs, his arms spread wide, and blindingly bright head torch.

“What… what the... why?”

He crossed the room and sat on the side of the bed;

“So i can go for a run at night, or before dawn!” 

“You can test it out tonight then… i’ve got to go up to Dad’s stables to feed the ponies as he’s on duty”

-

After a busy day catching up on chores and booking deliveries for the following week, the sun was growing low in the sky when you realised you needed to drive the three miles to your parents place on the other side of town to put their two pet ponies to bed in the stables. Both your parents worked at the Fire Station so you’d worked out a rota with them and their neighbours so that their animals were cared for in the winter months. Henry was going to go for his run and test out his new head torch whilst you sorted the animals out.

An hour later you had mucked out the stable, had loaded it up with fresh hay and water, and had herded the ponies in with the promise of apples when you saw a strange light bobbing along the road that ran alongside the field. As it turned the corner and started to come up the driveway you grinned, realising it was Henry.

“How’d you get on?”

He came to a halt in front of you, breathless and sweaty, and even in the cold winter night you could feel the heat radiating off of him. The fact that you were blatantly checking him out he didn’t miss in the light of his new head torch, and before you knew it he was pulling you flush with his furnace of a chest;

“Hen! You’re all sweaty!”

“Yeah, and i know you love it”

“At least take that torch off so you’re not blinding me!”

He quickly pressed a button and the stable yard was plunged into darkness, and whilst your eyes adjusted his lips were suddenly upon yours, a forceful kiss that had you melting into his arms. When you finally had to put away for air your night vision had returned and you could see the dark look of mischief on your husbands face;

“Hen… what are you thinking?”

“Your Dad installed that roof over where he keeps the hay, right?”

Before you could even answer he had grabbed your hand and was pulling you around the back of the stables to where there was now a small lean-to built to cover the bales of hay. Henry had you pushed up against the back wall of the building and his lips were immediately back on your body, his hands finding their way beneath your hoodie and he let out an appreciative grunt as he found you without a bra. His other hand was between your thighs, rubbing against your cunt through your leggings.

“Fuck Hen… need you…”

“Here, bend over this bale”

He quickly positioned you and pulled your leggings and knickers down, feeling around before cursing;

“Fucking dark… hang on a sec babe…”

A moment later you were faintly illuminated and you realised he’d turned his head torch back on;

“Hen! Someone will see!”

“Shhh, no-one will see. There’s no-one for miles. The whole reason you’re here is because your parents and their neighbours aren’t around… now bend over and spread that pussy for me…”

Leaning over the tarp covered bale you felt the velvet touch of his fat dick pushing at your entrance, gasping as he thrust in fully and started to fuck you hard and fast.

“Fuck… you’re so fucking tight babe… your cunt is so hot around my dick, gonna fill you with a massive load so i know you’re gonna have to hold it inside you on the drive home… you like that babe? Like the thought of me filling you up? If it wasn’t so fucking cold that my arse cheeks are developing frostbite i’d have you sucking me off after to get me ready for round two…”

You loved it when Henry talked dirty, he had been brought up in a well-to-do family and went to a posh boarding school, but when he was at his horniest his mind and mouth was worse than squaddie at a Weatherspoons on Curry night.

Back in the present you felt Henry snake his hand around to your clit, rubbing hard as his thrusts got faster and deeper;

“C’mon Babe, cum for me, let me feel that tight cunt of yours milking my dick for my cum… gonna fill you up with a massive load, got my balls so tight i’m ready to blow, not gonna cum until you do though…”

As if on cue your body knew exactly what it needed to do, and with a small cry you started to cum, shaking as you felt Henry pounding into you from behind before with one final deep thrust he came deep inside you as you felt his meaty dick pump you full of his cum.

-

Walking back to the car Henry had his arm around your shoulders as you happily chatted with your husband, pulling your keys from your hoodie pocket;

“I’ll drive”

“Thanks Babe”

Settling into Henry’s big Volvo SUV you flicked the switch for the heated seats and grinned at him;

“To defrost the frostbitten bum cheeks”

He grinned sleepily as he settled into the warm seat;

“You can warm them up more when we get home”

Returning his smile you knew he’d be fast asleep before you even pulled onto the driveway, but the thought of cuddling up to him under the duvet made up for it.

A/N: Explanations of ‘English-isms’ Squaddie = A guy who is in the Army - usually low level Weatherspoons = a cheap chain pub/restaurant know for cheap beer and having themed ‘nights’ which do combo deals such as a Curry and a Pint of beer for £5.