#and it's not even a young brilliant dying man's last attempt at saving his own life

[mexashepot]

The way Raito starts the new Russian 'The Way Things End' with asking L venomously what he has to say as goodbye to him (='что ж скажешь на прощание мне'), triumphing over L's impending death which they both know is mere moments away from happening, to ending the song with a genuine 'прощай мой друг' (='farewell, my friend') is making me emo.

[vvienne]

XICHENG FIC RECS

hold my hands by Snooze (Chiruka)

Transplanting a core into a new person isn’t without repercussions. One year after the events at Guanyin Temple, Jiang Cheng found himself once again faced with the possibility of losing everything he had. Reconciling with his brother, learning to let Jin Ling go, and dealing with his blooming emotions toward the First Jade of Gusu — will Jiang Cheng accomplish what he wants before time runs out?

it all passes someday by screamlet

A week before the anniversary of Wei Wuxian’s death, there was a commotion outside Lan Wangji’s house.

*

Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji over the years.

The Unlikely Expression of Love by manamune

When everything has settled, when everyone else has moved on with their lives and their friends, Jiang Cheng has a realization which shouldn’t actually be a surprise:

He’s lonely.

Indigo, lavender, and violet (I don't wanna be red) by ohwhatevrewhatevr

It, in the pale colors of the late morning, is the closest to perfect Jiang Cheng will ever reach. He strokes Lan XiChen's hair and presses a light kiss to where his ribbon and hair meet. The sky is a pale blue, and the pastels of flowers and clouds are spread out through the window, a brilliant world waiting for them, them in the gentian house, safe from stronger breezes - there is the clutter of birds fluttering and chirping outside. It is a warm, perfect, spring morning.

Jiang Cheng and Lan XiChen have been together for an year. In which, no one ever really gets over things, Jiang Cheng has the misfortune of interacting with his brother, the juniors help out with the proposal, and there's a marriage.

Altitude by starknjarvis 

When Jin Ling lures Jiang Cheng to the Cloud Recesses under false pretenses, he finds himself out of place among this new family Wei Wuxian has formed.

Lan Xichen, at least, seems pleased to have his company.

Perhaps there is still a chance for Jiang Cheng to make amends and move forward.

[Modao Zushi Online] GLITCH REPORT: My Brother Got Chased Down And %$@*$&@ By Gusu Dungeon Boss??? by oh_fudgecakes

Modao Zushi Online is a virtual reality MMORPG. Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian are top ranking players in its new server, currently tied with their arch-nemesis from their previous server, Wen Chao. In an attempt to defeat him, they take on the Gusu Dungeon Boss, Zewu-jun, to win the reward of a legendary weapon. Ever the cheat, Wei Wuxian tries to take advantage of a glitch to defeat the seemingly undefeatable boss. It backfires. Jiang Cheng gets fucked by a boss monster.

He can't get enough.

Meanwhile, Lan Xichen, the unwitting staff member in charge of controlling Zewu-jun, absolutely did not sign up to be pulled into a secret virtual reality fling with a player. Mod Ji, who has to deal with Wei Wuxian's incessant glitch reporting of his brother's sex life, is long-suffering.

Mulberry by xxdz

Jiang Cheng grits his teeth and pushes harder. He feels like torn silk, the embroidery needle sinking in again and again and again; patiently, desperately, endlessly trying to make something beautiful out of something broken.

Jiang Cheng builds his sect, learns embroidery, and raises his nephew.

we can raise a little family by lanyon

“Well, brother,” says Wei Wuxian, leaning against the outside of Jiang Cheng’s chambers. “I had heard that you and Xichen went on a night hunt and came back with a baby, which is not the order I’d choose to do things in…”

In which Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen acquire a baby of unknown origin, and are the very last to know what it means.

Beyond the Impossible by Silverine

Summoned by Lan Qiren, Jiang Wanyin goes to the Cloud Recesses to drop his nephew Jin Ling, expecting to discuss relevant matters with his old master. Instead, he's asked to take with him no other than Sect Leader Lan himself, all the way back to Lotus Pier. If the reason why he accepted such an outrageous task is indeed a mystery, he's about to be surprised by how this entire trip, their encounters, and his warm company, suddenly feel fated.

Incrementally by xxdz

Jiang Cheng is trapped in a day on repeat where he begins by waking in Zewu Jun’s bed at dawn and ends by dying painfully at dusk.

It’s getting very irritating, and he has the sneaking suspicion that his chances to solve his own murder are rapidly running out. Soon, his death will be much more permanent.

All in all, worst birthday ever.

Audience of One by WinterDreams

“Then let an established star go first,” Lan Xichen interrupts again before Lan Wangji can give a stubborn reply. Both men twist toward Lan Xichen, and he smiles at Wei Wuxian’s tilted head. “If I publicly date a man for awhile first, your engagement shouldn’t receive as much backlash.”

Or, that AU where everyone is famous in some way or another, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji have been dating in private for years, and Lan Xichen and Jiang Cheng pretend to date publicly for their brothers' sake.

A Bit of Ruthlessness by jirluvien

When Jiang Cheng hears that Lan Xichen went into seclusion following Jin Guangyao’s death, it’s almost as if he can see the grabby hands of a restless ghost, reaching out for something to keep him company. For something warm and living and devastated. And as history has proved time and time again, the Lans are perfect victims when it comes to giving in to ghosts.Yeah, no. Not on Jiang Cheng’s fucking watch.A story about grief, determination, unexpected friendships, abandoned watchtowers, and letters. So many letters.

All Tied Up In You by Clearpearls

Yet again, the night had come to this:

Jiang Cheng on the floor, kneeling, Zidian wrapped around his wrists.

Alone.

Thank You, and I'm Sorry by Hamliet

Jin GuangYao might be dead, but his story is not. Taking advantage of the chaos he instigated, someone makes an attempt on the life of the young new leader of the Jin Sect. When Jiang Cheng takes Jin Ling to the Cloud Recesses to have him study while he attempts to work with Wei WuXian and his husband Lan WangJi to eliminate the threat, he encounters a mourning Lan XiChen, lovestruck teenagers, and a persistent corpse--and both pairs of brothers find themselves struggling to move on.

saturn's rings (don't be a heartbreaker) by iskendaris

Set after the seige of burial mounds, Yunmeng rebuilds as they hold the first Discussion Conference at Lotus Pier. Sometimes the night is a gift, a refuge for loneliness. "So stern, Sect Leader Jiang," Lan Xichen murmured, "So glacial... What will it take to melt that icy exterior? What can I say?"

"Nothing. There's nothing you can say or offer."

reciprocity by jukeboxhound

There’s a pause before Lan Xichen says, in a tone that’s a little more neutral, “I would like to paint on you.”

“…What?”

“Of course, if you say ‘yes’ but then change your mind at any point, for any reason, you need only say so and I will stop immediately,” he adds.

Well, silver lining: Jiang Cheng is feeling much more awake than he was a moment ago.

Talent Hunt Crew Finds Angry Guy Shouting On College Campus, Recruits Him For Vocal Projection Abilities by oh_fudgecakes

Jiang Cheng, resident Angry Guy and heir to a conglomerate empire, has never been the apple of his father’s eye. Quashed under the shadow of his brilliant brother, the music prodigy Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng sees his chance to turn things around when he is recruited by the All-Stars Lan Talent Hunt. One problem: he can’t sing to save his goddamn life.

As he struggles to develop his nascent singing abilities, Jiang Cheng finds himself sucked into the whirlwind drama of reality TV, helped along by his adoring siblings, his irritable vocal coach Wen Qing, and strangely enough, the unfairly attractive host of the All-Stars Lan Talent Hunt, Lan Xichen. Somewhere in the glare of the stage lights and an unexpected first love, Jiang Cheng stumbles upon the thing he was searching for all along: the courage to dream — and to attempt the impossible.

Marginal Costs by ohwhatevrewhatevr

“You think you know what you want, Er-Ge,” A-Yao says. “But you should consider what you’re willing to give first,” he says wryly, taking Lan XiChen’s chess piece with slim, skilled fingers.

Lan XiChen looks up at A-Yao’s concentrated expression and the hint of contentment on his face that he is special enough to be allowed to see.

“It’s not just one decision, but the lead up to many more. One decision decides what else you’re going to have to pay, and each time you have to ask yourself, ignoring the sunk costs, if this time it’s worth it as well.”

When his sworn brother looks up at him with those clear, amber eyes, waiting, Lan XiChen feels the pull and gives in: he asks.

“Are you happy being in love?”

(First half is two sad sworn brothers talking, internally mourning how unfortunate their other sworn brother’s death was :/ and second half is when a mopey boy in blue meets an angsty boy in purple whilst chasing a demonic cultivator, and a lil bit of sexy dual cultivation happens.)

Somewhat Tender by theherocomplex

There is no defense against kindness; it has always undone him.

I didn't expect you to be lonely (too) by bettydice (BettyKnight)

Jiang Cheng's life is a mess, he's a mess, and he doesn't miss his brother at all. So when his sister gifts him ten sessions with a massage therapist, who turns out to be someone he was crushing on for a hot minute as a teenager and is still as hot as ever... yeah, that might as well happen. It won't have to mean anything.

This feels intimate to Jiang Cheng in a way that's probably very inappropriate and maybe even pathetic. Nobody touches him like this, right where he’s hurt the most. There's no one who handles him so gently, so carefully.

It's the gentleness that's his undoing, he thinks. He would be able to deal better with it if it was painful.

Life for Rent by yodasyoyo

“Yeah well. You’re not taking me seriously. This guy is my soulmate!”

“Soulmate.” Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

“Just because you don’t believe in them—”

“I believe in them!” Jiang Cheng says. “I’ve never denied they exist.”

“Just last week you said that it was an evolutionary quirk that had been used by greetings card companies, movie makers, and corporations to exploit lonely and vulnerable people.”

“And I stand by it! That doesn’t mean that soulmates aren’t real. Just incredibly unlikely and probably pointless.

-

Or:

Xicheng vs Soulmates. Fight!

Halfway Around the World by theherocomplex

Normally, Jiang Cheng would be seething, jaw clenched tight, if someone sounded like that while they were talking, but — Lan Xichen has the trick of always making you feel like you're in on the joke, whatever the joke is. That you're laughing together.

Whelmed by yodasyoyo

For months now Jiang Cheng’s been idly fantasizing about how it would be if something were to come between Wei Ying and Lan Zhan. Mostly those daydreams have been simple enough — they break up (probably because Lan Zhan is boring or Wei Ying is annoying), Wei Ying is sad for a couple of days (Jiang Cheng’s willing to allow some space for feelings, he isn't a total monster), but then Wei Ying realizes he’s better off, he gets over it, and Jiang Cheng gets his brother back.

Unfortunately the fantasy version of events has only proven partially true, so far. They've broken up. Wei Ying has been sad.

Now weeks have passed, though — and Wei Ying is still sad, every. Single. Day.

It’s like Jiang Cheng's stuck in a looping GIF, and it’s driving him insane.

Or:

Jiang Cheng plots, Lan Huan pines, and, unfortunately for Lan Qiren, Wangxian are inevitable.

[obaewankenobis]

solace — obi-wan kenobi

summary  :  after the death of satine kryze, obi-wan kenobi returns from mandalore to the jedi temple.

warning(s)  :  character death, it's pretty fluffy with some angst.

pairing(s)  :  obi-wan kenobi x jedi!reader, mentions of obi-wan kenobi x satine kryze

notes   :  this is my first fic on tumblr like,, ever. i hope you enjoy lmao 🧍🏻‍♀️. oh also it’s written in all lowercase intentionally!

       though you didn’t know much about their relationship, you knew from a very young age that obi-wan kenobi loved satine kryze. the jedi and the duchess were destined to live their lives apart, honor bound to serve the people before themselves, whether it be the citizens of mandalore or the jedi order. you had seen them interact firsthand, the endless bickering and shrewd glances at one another making up a feeble attempt to cover up how they truly felt. you hated the way your stomach twisted and your heartbeat quickened when you saw how he looked at her, overwhelmed with all sorts of emotions a jedi were barred from feeling. he drowned in her touch, however subtle that might be, her hand on his face leaving him with burn marks, his fingers on fire as he grasped her wrist.        you stood idly by, hopeless in the shadows, because that was what the force had destined for you. you, like obi-wan, had duties as a jedi, duties that you would put over your own well being and selfish desires, even if that meant spending hours watching obi-wan languish in the realization that life would never allow him to be happy. he’d lost his master at an age where, although he was not terribly young, he was still vulnerable to the world and its brutalities.

       life had not been kind to obi-wan kenobi. he was old when he started training, feeling the need to work twice as hard as his fellow initiates, just for him to be remembered and not cast aside. he was constantly battling his darkest fear, that he was never good enough for his master and he would one day be considered unmemorable or unworthy.        life was still cruel to obi-wan kenobi. he felt the cold, bony fingers of satine kryze cradle his face, leaning into her touch before she fell back limply, dark blood staining her abdomen. around him, maul laughed, as vengeance had finally been served. all those years the scarlet skinned zabrak had spent wasting away, he only had one thought: kenobi. it was a mantra that kept him going, a fire that fueled him, that drove him so far to the point of madness that the only thought echoing in his mind was exacting his revenge on the man who had caused him so much misery, obi-wan kenobi.        with some much needed help, obi-wan had escaped his jail cell on mandalore, but maul had won, for now he was trapped eternally in a prison of his own mind. if he closed his eyes, he could still see satine in all her beauty. the soft, pale buttercup locks of hair were strewn messily across satine’s face, framing her pointed features that highlighted her regality. her eyes, normally a stunning, brilliant blue, were now overshadowed with heavy purple circles underneath, fluttering once, before lying still. obi-wan could still feel the ice of her touch on his auburn beard, could still hear the hoarse whispers of her final, dying breath in his ears. worst of all, he could still sense through the force as her life signature died out, like a warm sun casting its final rays before leaving a planet in darkness.        he had loved her, and she had loved him.        though light years away, separated by many planets and suns and stars, you could sense his anguish. it was overpowering, tainted by the dark side; this was the closest obi-wan had been tempted to stray away from the light. still, he clung on to the light, clung on to the idea that there was still good in the world, despite every curve thrown in his way.        the night ahead of you, should obi-wan not return before then, would be sleepless, as worry for the man ate at your insides, and you were helpless to resist as it consumed you. you were, for lack of a better word, attached to him, and he you, and that was the most dangerous thing a jedi could be. the very idea of caring for one being over another was discouraged, but no one prepared you for how hard it would be to follow a code you lived by.        at last, you sensed his presence here in the temple. throwing on a beige cloak, you quietly shut the door of your sleeping quarters to greet him. it was late enough in the evening for the temple hallways to be barren, but not too absurdly late for you to be awake, as the bright yellow hues of the coruscanti sunset dimmed and made their final goodbye through the transparisteel.        “obi-wan,” the breath caught in your throat as your eyes met his. he resembled a shell of who he once was, clad in red mandalorian armor that oddly suited him. his russet hair was disheveled, dirtied by dust and sweat, shoulders sagging as his arms lay limply at his side. his ocean eyes were swimming with sorrow and grief, mourning the loss of someone — it didn’t take much to put the pieces together. satine kryze. he had gone to rescue her, and returned alone.        “y/n,” his voice is like a melody in your ears, though his tone is solemn and tired. they stood close enough for it to be amicable, but far enough for it to be agonizingly respectable. neither of you made any movement to get closer, knowing the probability of someone stumbling upon them was far too likely.        “what happened?” you bit your lip, studying his face. his eyes didn’t quite meet yours, his fair skin littered with dirt and battered with cuts and bruises.        “maul,” came the short response. “he… i must report to the council.” waves of alarm began radiating off of him, as if he had just remembered something important.        “master yoda and master windu are both away,” you sucked in your breath. “you should speak to them tomorrow.” all he could muster was a nod of his head, and you knew then that he would only talk about it in time. silently, mannerisms mirroring one another, you began walking, your pace slow and your shoulders brushing just slightly every few steps. there wasn’t much to be said; obi-wan was silent for most of the short trek back to the jedi sleeping quarters.        “will you be alright?” you stopped in your tracks, pausing in front of his quarters.        a faint smile crept onto his face, his lips twitching upwards but his eyes remaining dull. he nodded quickly before turning to enter his quarters. “thank you, darling.”        however persuasive the famed jedi negotiator was in his prime, there was something about the way his voice sounded so tired that made you doubt the truth of his words.        obi-wan’s name was on the tip of your tongue before he disappeared behind the door of his quarters, not allowing you to call after him; he could lie to you once, to save you from needless worry, but he could not do so twice.        without much resistance, you retreated to your own space, the walls and floors scarcely decorated, what little furniture you did possess simple and modest. after a moment, you retired to your sleep couch and allowed your sore muscles a bit of relaxation. sleep did not come to greet you, not even as you spent hours tossing and turning, the normally soft mattress underneath you now lumpy and hard.        with a sigh, you threw the covers over you aside, wincing as you were greeted with the coldness of the floor as your feet touched the ground. you made your way to the hallway, pitch black and coated with a blanket of silence, a dim light seeping through the cracks of the door opposite of yours. obi-wan was still awake. raising your hand to knock on the door, you were surprised as your knuckles were met nothingness, as the door slid open automatically.        obi-wan had not moved since the night began, sitting in his own turmoil. the mandalorian armor had been stripped off of him and was now cluttered in a corner of the room, and it looked as if he had used the refresher — droplets of water still clung to his hair, and his sleeping clothes looked fresh and clean.        “can’t sleep?” you spoke up with a rueful smile, careful to keep your pitch low enough so only he could hear them. the door closed behind you, and then it was just the two of them. he looked up; dark circles of grief and exhaust making him appear older, more fragile. in a hasty, unsure movement, you had crossed the length of the room and settled yourself next to him, the sleep couch dipping slightly under your added weight.        there were so many questions you longed to ask him, like the details of his journey to mandalore, and why he couldn’t even bring himself to say more than a few words at a time. but patience was a jedi’s greatest tool, and you forced yourself to simply sit in silence, the feeling of obi-wan’s grief hanging heavy in the air.        “i lost her.” his voice is hollow, monotone. there is no need to say her name, but it enters your mind anyways. satine.        “i know,” you let out a weary sigh. “i’m so sorry.” without more words, you felt his body shift, feeling the heat coming from his body as he drew closer to you. “you need to rest, love.”        there was no reason for him to protest, but you knew why he had stayed awake for so long. nightmares. they would haunt him for the rest of his life, chasing him mercilessly for as long as he remained asleep. no matter how awful life treated him, obi-wan kenobi never cried, at least not in front of anyone — instead, he allowed himself to rot away, internalizing everything for fear of burdening another being with all of his agony.        tonight would be no different, you suspected, as you felt a weight on your shoulder, as a head full of strawberry blonde hair, still dewy with shower water, rested against your side. it was hesitant at first, as he barely allowed himself to lean on you, but after a moment of his cheek on your shoulder, he collapsed, the full weight of his body and all his worries heavy against your frame. as your arm wrapped around his shoulder, pulling him closer to you, your breath was light and tense. this was the closest you’d ever been to him, to anyone, really, the feeling of his skin against her own a foreign concept she’d never dared to explore.        it was the way he smiled. it reminded you of warm summer days, of lazy mornings on naboo surrounded by nothing but fields of flowers soaked in sunlight. he was like the sun, bright and hopeful; steady and dependable.        it was the way he laughed. it reminded you of cozy winter nights, of waking up to a ground littered with snow, the frigid air of the outside making evenings surrounded by a crackling fire intimate and welcoming.        it was the way he looked at you. his gaze reminded you of a chilly autumn breeze, of carefree days and brisk weather that made your skin tingle, your heart feeling light and free, singing to the fallen leaves of the sky.        it was the way he touched you. it reminded you of spring, of new flowers blooming in soft sunlight, of plants budding with new, green life and animals of all shapes and sizes fluttering around with their young. it was the start of something new.        you loved him.        it went against everything you stood for, but you loved him.        and maybe somewhere, buried deep within his soul, he loved you too.        in another lifetime, perhaps you were the right person at the wrong time, or the right person at the right time. but in this timeline, where the jedi code was carved into your bones, where the light side ran through your veins, where your duty came above your being, it was the wrong circumstance.        you had been so deep in thought, woefully wishing a for love from a man who could not do so, that you hadn’t noticed how obi-wan’s breathing slowed, how his eyes, which had once fought to stay open, were now blissfully shut. the man who had been through so much, who had endured so much heartbreak and loss, had finally sought solace in your arms.        your own eyes fought to stay awake, knowing how much trouble you’d be in if anyone caught you both in such a… compromising position. however innocent the intention may be, the council would not see it that way. your last conscious thought was that of i must wake up before sunrise, before you lapsed into a peaceful sleep.

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 15 - Make Up Your Mind

Masterlist; Chapter 14

Summary: The mission in Oslo does not go exactly to plan, forcing you to face irritated Neil. What unfolds then surprises you both...

Warnings: A little dose of hurt (nothing graphic however); swearing; some nsfw content (nothing too explicit as well; yet)

Author’s Notes: Okay so here we go, my first attempts at a little more than kissing... It turned out that once I let these two loose, they knew exactly what to do. I’m terrified but also excited to see what you all think! Feedback will be greatly appreciated! Enjoy!!!

The next day went by in a mad blur, filled with perfecting the plans, getting hold of the equipment, and rehearsing the itinerary. The only plus side of your late evening encounter with Neil was the return of texting. It became not only the most fun part of the day but also an opportunity to talk to him freely, without the curious stare of TP, who seemed confused by the dynamic between you. But then you could not blame him when Neil had the nerve to send you rather questionable texts during the hours spent planning…

“I can’t help but wonder whether to treat what you did last night as a promise” as soon as you read the message, you raised your head to look at him across the room.

There he was, nonchalantly sipping the espresso you handed him mere ten minutes prior. When he noticed your look, he smirked. Intentional teasing in public was new. You wondered whether that was a punishment for your own provocations the previous day. And the very self-indulgent kiss. If so, then you probably did deserve it. One thing was certain, it was hard to forget how it felt to touch his skin beneath that shirt. Or the sound he made when it happened. The memories flashed before your eyes, and you blushed. Neil noticed but luckily chose to keep the information to himself. In response, you typed back:

“Maybe, if you behave nicely, you’ll see soon ;)” you hit sent and got up to help Mahir with choosing the right kind of gun for the job.

You certainly did not ignore the way Neil’s eyes lit up when he received the text. Or the way he made sure to brush against you on the way to the bathroom. Hiding a grin in your coffee cup, you had to admit that you liked this evolution of events.

The next day, with the operation set to begin at eight o’clock in the evening, you were forced to spend most of the day in the hotel room. You have all decided that for the sake of safety, it was best that TP and Neil have not been seen meeting anybody before their scheduled visit in the Freeport. And so you have spent hours watching tv, going over the plan and conversing with Mahir, who turned out to be an excellent companion. He entertained you with tales from his previous Tenet missions, usually just as crazy as the Oslo one. You responded by telling him the story of how you ended up in the organization. Before you knew it was time to go. You both got dressed in civilian clothes, based on what research told you about the clothing of the airport crew. The first part of the plan involved entering the perimeter of the Oslo Airport with the rest of the evening shift, blending in with the crowd, using the hi-vis vests and ID cards. When you succeeded, you located the Norskfreight plane. It was exactly where it was supposed to be, with the airport crew busily loading the compartment with the gold bars stacked on crates and secured with straps. So far, so good.

You checked the time. There was still some left till the beginning, so all you had to do was lay low, stay out of the spotlight and make sure you were on that meal cart when it will be loaded onto the Boeing. You hid in the shadows on the hangar, letting Mahir and his associate, Rohan, take up their posts. Using the few minutes of freedom, you glanced at your phone. One new text message.

“Stay out of trouble there, please” he must have sent it before they left the hotel.

Despite the rising anxiety, you smiled.

“Same goes to you. I need my idiot back” you typed, for once giving in to the temptation of honesty.

It felt like things were about to shift at any point now. And it was not as scary as you expected.

Mahir calling out your name brought you back to the present moment. You took a deep breath, checked the gun holstered underneath the vest, and joined your partners on the tarmac. Nodding politely at the guards that were to accompany you onto the plane, you sized them up. Three rather large men with years of experience guarding precious cargo. You should manage. As the lift went up and you stepped aboard the plane, you let the guards escort you to the compartments with the plane meals. The three of you unloaded the cart purposefully slowly. Your eyes met Mahir’s, and you nodded. It was time. Silently you counted the seconds before turning to the guard nearest to you and placing a cotton pad over his nose. When he passed out, you lowered him onto the floor and watched your partners do the same with the rest. You then dumped the sleeping bodies onto the cart and let Rohan send it down, sealing the plane door. You followed Mahir into the front of the plane, opening the cockpit door without knocking. When the two pilots turned to you with a startled look on their faces, you cocked the gun and showed it to them with a small smile. A clear signal.

“Don’t touch the radio,” Mahir warned and sat down on the additional seat in the cockpit.

Taking your position, you aimed the weapon at their heads, alternating between the men every few minutes, suiting your fancy. Sometimes it was terrifying how much you enjoyed having such power.

“Now, let’s begin” your partner motioned for the pilots to start up the towing procedure, pulling out from the hangar and onto the tarmac.

Their nervous gestures were somewhat adorable. You glanced back at Rohan, who was busy with the gold bars, slashing up the straps and preparing the grenade. Feeling the incoming explosion, you braced yourself against the ear-piercing sound. You were rolling down the taxiway now, at a comfortable speed. When the blow came, you flinched instinctively. The distant clamour of gold toppling onto the tarmac made you beam. Mahir got up and tapped you on the shoulder. Now for the fun part…

“Alright, gentlemen,” you grinned at the panicked pilots “Let’s get going” at their hesitation, you smacked your tongue and raised the pistol “You don’t want me to use this. Trust me” you winked.

That was enough. The got up hastily and left the cabin, while you followed behind with the gun ready to be used at any given moment. Rohan opened the front emergency door and unfolded the slide. Nudging their backs with the barrel of your Glock, you urged the crew to roll down the slide and onto the tarmac.

“Ouch,” you flinched when their bodies made contact with the surface.

That was bound to hurt. But then, supposedly, it was better than dying. Once that was done you made sure Mahir was on his task of steering the giant plane off the track and in the direction of the Freeport. Everything seemed perfectly executed. At least so far.

With the back wall approaching fast through the panoramic windows in the cockpit, it was time to work on the exit route. Rohan has opened the flap on the floor and lowered the ladder just as Mahir made sure that the plane was on the right track and stood up from the pilot’s seat.

For the last time, you checked the trajectory, the speed of the machine, and whether there were any signs of trouble around.

“Y/N, it’s time to go!” Mahir called you out from his place by the ladder.

Your ears perked at a strange sound coming from the lavatory on the side. That was worrying… Sensing trouble, your eyes’ met Mahir’s. You urged him to go on, hoping he will take the hint. With a small hesitation, he nodded and left the plane. You looked out of the window. You were approaching the building too fast. But there was no time to waste.

Using the training, you aimed the gun and kicked the toilet door open. You were met with a pair of startled yet determined eyes belonging to a young man. You realised he was probably delivering some papers when you barged in and so hid in the bathroom. Not checking was on you, a definitive fuck up. There would be time to dwell on it later. Now you had to act. One look at the boy was enough to let you know that he was harmless. You yanked him up from the toilet seat and wordlessly pushed him towards the doors open with the slides unrolled.

“What are you doing?” he stammered.

At least he can speak English.

“Saving your ass. Thank me later” you pushed him down the slide.

You could hear the sound of light posts toppled by the plane and the cars crushed by the rolling wheels. It was late. Perhaps too late. You could see the details of the building as you leaped towards the ladder. Fuck it. Landing on the penultimate step, you turned to see people running around, sensing the impending impact. It was definitely too late.

Just as you jumped, Boeing’s nose was two meters away from the wall. With that speed and overwhelming panic, you could not land properly and fell to the ground hard. The impact with the tarmac blew the air out of your lungs, and it took you a long 30 seconds to get up. When you did, the plane crashed into the wall with a bang. The explosion sending you back onto the hard surface of the runway. The instinct kicked in, and you tried to cover your head with your hands, bracing against the potential debris. That was a good decision as soon you felt the sting on different parts of your body left uncovered. You did not want to think about the future bruises and scrapes. Once the initial explosion died down and the biggest pieces of the wreckage fell, you pushed yourself up. Only now, when the adrenaline levels dropped, you realised that the pain was, partially, because a few articles of your clothing were singed. So burns too… brilliant. Your whole body ached, with few areas stinging more ferociously. You glanced at the detritus covering the tarmac all around you. It was a miracle you could do as much as get up and run away from the breach, using the remains of strength. You spotted Mahir and Rohan on the sideline of the crowd that assembled by the plane wreckage. The gold bars were by far the most interesting feature, and so it worked. Nobody stopped you as you joined the team. Worried looks from them both were enough to assure you that they saw what happened. But there was no time to talk.

You waited until the police forces arrived and then used the increasing confusion to slip out unnoticed. Glancing at the Freeport building, you could only hope that Neil and TP had more luck than you. Running away from the chaos, you noticed something strange on the periphery of your vision. You turned sharply and stopped, watching. Two men running with a stretcher. It was most likely nothing but… You would swear there was something familiar in the movements of one of them. It couldn’t be. He turned as though noticing your stare. Just for a quarter of a second, your eyes met. For some reason, you knew then that it was him. And he saw you, acknowledging your existence with widened eyes. The moment ended with Mahir tugging on your arm, urging you to follow him. When you turned again, there was no sight of the two men. Briefly, you wondered whether you should tell Neil, but you knew the answer. What’s happened, happened.

*** Escaping the Oslo Airport turned out to be rather easy. Despite the aching body and tiredness that was slowly catching up, you followed the plan. After splitting up with your partners, you hopped on the public transport that took you back to the city centre within a half-hour. The early reports were calling the incident a terrorist attack, and because of that, there were many people aboard the train that wanted to get away from the epicentre. You blended in well, choosing to sit by the window at the back. No one asked questions.

Once you made it back to the city, you went back to your hotel and changed into something more comfortable. Taking off the shirt, you frowned at the forming bruises, burns, and scratches littering the whole of your torso and back. Somehow, you knew that you will not be able to hide it from them. Especially not from Neil.

You glanced at your watch. You were late. Cursing, you sped up the movements, left the hotel, and hurried down the empty streets. Adjusting your hood now and then, you kept glancing at your phone. Just as expected, your lateness did not go unnoticed.

“Where are you?”

And then:

“Is everything alright?”

Normally, that would make you think, but with everything that happened tonight, you just replied.

“Yes, I’ll be there in 2mins” pocketing the phone, you practically jogged the rest of the way.

Using the skills in sneaking, you managed to pass the reception desk unnoticed. Upstairs, you knocked on TPs door and awaited a response. It did not take long.

Five seconds later, the door opened, revealing Neil. You offered him a weak smile, suddenly relieved you made it back in one piece. Without a word, he took your hand in his and dragged you inside, closing the door and turning the lock. TP was waiting in the corridor, evidently troubled.

“Sorry, I…” you were acutely aware of the fact that the questions are about to be asked.

“We’re glad you made it” TP smiled at you and wandered over to the adjacent room, giving you privacy.

Now that was even more concerning. You watched wide-eyed as Neil approached you with a rather nervous smile on his face. He was worried. Before you could react, he closed the gap and embraced you. You did not have time to relax into his touch. When his hand brushed one of the sore spots on your side, you flinched. Of course, Neil would notice. He let go of you in a flash:

“What’s wrong?” his blue eyes studied you worriedly “Are you hurt?” he skimmed over your body as though trying to see anything obvious there.

You frowned. It was hard to resist that sudden urge to run out of the hotel room and onto the street, avoiding the conversation. Avoiding those eyes that could always see right through you.

“It’s nothing” you faked a smile and tried to turn away from him.

But he reached out and grabbed your arm, holding on strong. There was no escape.

“Doesn’t look like nothing to me” his brow only furrowed more.

You could tell that although their mission was successful, he was weary. And all because of you. That realisation was a hard one to swallow.

“Just a few scratches,” you shrugged, aiming for nonchalance “It’s okay, seriously”.

You could tell that he was trying to keep his emotions in check. He breathed out, as though composing himself, and asked:

“What happened?”

God no… Briefly, you were grateful for the fact that Mahir was still MIA. At least only you knew the truth, and that allowed some room for… lies.

“Got held up before I could escape the plane and... I jumped too late onto the tarmac” you blurted out, staring at the carpet purposefully.

Everything was better than meeting his eyes again. You heard movement across the room. TP was most likely hearing this too. Bloody brilliant.

“Jesus, you could’ve...” Neil let out a long exhale, unable to finish the thought.

Despite knowing better, you raised your head to look at him. The concern and anguish you saw in his expression were enough to make your heart stumble. Maybe it was not all want and his needs?

“But I didn’t, so please stop” you tried to regain composure, wrestling out of his hold and stepping out of his reach.

He clenched his jaw, clearly battling the emotions. You could hear the blood pounding in your ears.

“I need to check if you’re okay,” his voice broke at the end of the sentence.

Fuck.

“I am” attempting defiance, you straightened your back and wandered into the room.

“I don’t believe you,” he followed and blocked your path in no time.

You stared, trying to stifle all that his worried eyes were making you feel. Why does he have to be so goddamn difficult?

“And who’s problem is that?” you shrugged out of the jacket, careful not to show the pain you felt “Neil, just let it go” you pleaded.

“I can’t” he stepped in closer, trying to get to you the only way he knew was successful.

But this time, you were determined not to give in. Maybe it was ridiculous, but his concern set off the stubbornness you were full of. You could not let him see how badly you have fucked up during that mission. Because then he could look at you differently. And that was terrifying. Especially when combined with feelings that you have tried to repress for the past few days.

“Brilliant” you sighed and collapsed onto the nearby armchair.

That was a mistake, as the wounds on your back stung the moment you sat down. You were unable to stop the grimace of pain. Neil, naturally, did notice. The concern on his face quickly shifted into annoyance. Before you could continue the strange quarrel, TP walked back into the room. The way his eyes shifted between the two of you, you knew he heard most of it.

“Is everything alright there?” he asked, seemingly casual.

“Not quite. We’ve reached an impasse it seems” you shrugged, rolling your eyes and ignoring Neil, who was very much in the centre of your vision.

“You’re being childish, so there’s that” the dark edge to his voice was surprising.

But that relentless voice in your head found satisfaction in it. And decided to press forward.

“If I’m childish, then what does it say about you?” you met his gaze with one eyebrow arched “Why do you even care so much? Didn’t take you for a neurotic” once you spit those words out, his eyes darkened.

That might have been a step too far.

“Fucking hell...” he took a deep breath “Okay, I’ve had enough” he grabbed your hand and pulled you up from the chair “You in the bathroom now. I’ll look at those wounds” he practically pushed you in the direction of the corridor.

You stared, shocked. For a split second, you looked at TP and noticed his perplexed expression. This was definitely not how casual co-workers behaved.

“Is that absolutely necessary?” you risked another question.

“Yes,” Neil was not even looking at you, searching for something on the desk.

You sighed defeatedly. Seeing him that angry was startling. And you were not sure you wanted to know why he was behaving like that. Because, surely, it could not have been all caused by your disobedience…?

“Do you want tea for later?” TP’s question broke through your messy thoughts.

One look at Neil’s tense figure was enough to give you an answer.

“Whiskey would be better, thanks” you smiled at the boss and went into the dreaded bathroom.

You did not have to wait long for Neil to follow you and lock the door behind you. At the sound, you turned to face him. Taking in the irritation in his eyes, clenched jaw, and furrowed brow, you quipped:

“I see you finally got what you wanted. Me and you, locked in the bathroom. What’s it gonna be?” you drawled out the question and wiggled your eyebrow, giving in to the weird mood that suddenly overcame you.

That took him by surprise. You watched as his eyes widened and mouth opened a little. For a second, you wanted nothing but to close it with a kiss. No, stop.

“Think I’m starting to rub off on you” Neil gave you a half-smile that did not reach his eyes.

“Is that bad?”

“Potentially,” he grimaced and dragged a hand through his hair “Now, sit” obediently, you perched on the edge of the bathtub “Where is it?” his eyes roamed over your body again.

There we go, you ignored the blush creeping over your cheeks as you sheepishly glanced down at your chest and stomach.

“Okay. Off” if he was bothered by the information, he did not show it.

You could not tell if that was good or bad.

“Really?” you glanced up, hoping that maybe he will change his mind.

“Yes. And I’m not going to say that I won’t look because that’s kind of beyond the point” there was nothing playful in those eyes.

“Well then…” awkwardly, you took off the loose shirt you found at the bottom of the suitcase.

As it came over your head, you dropped the material onto the floor. The moment cold bathroom air hit your bare skin, you felt exposed. Swallowing down the nerves, you met Neil’s eyes. He did stare, there was no denying that. You felt him skim over your chest and stomach, drinking in everything that was suddenly revealed. You knew that he saw all the bruises, scratches, and burns that you have acquired tonight. The expression in his eyes was as close to cold scrutiny as you have ever seen. You felt judged, and it was a rather uncomfortable position to be in, considering everything. But before you could let that feeling consume you, he ended his examination and kneeled on the tiled floor, right in front of you. He met your gaze, asking for permission to touch you. You just nodded and turned away, focusing on counting the little white squares in the shower floor mosaic. A moment later, you felt Neil’s fingers ghost over one particular scrape on your rib, just below the band of the sport’s bra you kept on. At least that one bit of dignity was allowed.

He was gentle you had to admit. First, he identified all the spots that needed attention and then went on to clean them with a wet cloth. With his face this close, looking over the parts of your body that you were self-conscious about, it did not take long for anxiety to kick in. The fact that it was Neil, the man who you had tried desperately not to fall for, only made it worse. The faster breaths and shaking hands did not go past his attention. He leaned back, searching your face for any clues about what was going on. He must have found the answers quickly.

“Hey, it’s okay” tipping your chin, he turned your face, forcing you to meet his soft gaze “I didn’t mean that I don’t care… about how you look, because I really do” you were surprised to see him nervous “I know that this isn’t the most comfortable situation for either of us but…” he trailed off, looking for words.

It looked like the anger from earlier was gone, and now he was just as tense as you were. It was increasingly hard not to think about all those times you got a little too close. You had a sudden feeling this might be the moment that the dreaded ‘elephant’ will make its appearance after four days of silence. And you were not wrong.

“You know… What I said the other day?” he asked, and even though you knew what was coming, you felt your heart speed up.

You did not respond, instead choosing to stare at him curiously with a dose of apprehension.

“It wasn’t just alcohol talking” the earnest look in his eyes was not helping “I have realized that recently but I do l-“

Okay, that was enough.

“You’re making it worse” you interrupted him, refusing to maintain the eye contact any longer.

You were scared of what you both could potentially see. The whole situation was somehow getting more and more overwhelming.

“I want you to know that it doesn’t matter that this is how I first saw you... I...”

You used the break in his rambling to bring an end to the suffering. You reached out and placed your hand over his mouth. The blue eyes glanced at you, perplexed and lost. It seemed like neither of you knew how to deal with this situation.

“Neil, please stop” you muttered, hoping that maybe if you showed him the extent of your discomfort, he would understand “I know what you’re doing but please… I’d rather we didn’t talk about it right now”

Before you could retract your palm, he grabbed it and kissed your knuckles lightly.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… everything that happened today has been rather draining and now…” he sighed and squeezed your hand before letting go “Should I…?” he motioned at the first aid materials on the side.

“Yeah, let’s get this over and done with” you attempted a small smile, which he mirrored.

You let him continue the work, cleaning the cuts and scratches, applying ointment to the burns. He frowned when he noticed the wound that began the whole affair – a rather large cut on your side, a result of colliding with a piece of debris from the plane. The silence made you think. Probably a little too much. Finally, after battling with yourself, you decided to ask:

“Why did you get so angry? If it were you, you wouldn’t even care”

Neil glanced at you, seemingly unbothered. His long fingers brushed over your rib cage thoughtlessly. So far, you were succeeding at ignoring the very way his touch made you feel.

“That’s the difference, it’s you, not me,” he said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world and went back to his task.

“Does that really matter?” you hissed when he applied some hydrogen peroxide to the cut.

“It does to me” the blue eyes met yours with defiance you did not expect.

Oh. You inhaled, realising the implications behind his statement. Suddenly, his proximity, the gentle touch, and the things he said meant much more. Because if he cared so extremely, then maybe… maybe he did actually mean it. Surprisingly, the doubtful voice was not present to give any counterarguments. You took that as a sign to let yourself do what you wanted.

You reached out and dragged your hand through Neil’s hair, making him look up with a surprise. As your eyes met, just for once, you decided to look at him without holding anything back. You poured all the fondness, attraction, affection, and desire into that look. It was enough. Neil exhaled as he took in the sight. For a second, he rested his chin on your lap, staring up at you.

“If you keep on looking at me like that, I’ll do something stupid” it was a warning, and yet you found that you were not scared.

“Like what?” the confidence was new but not unwelcomed.

“Do you really want to know?” that was a challenge.

Something changed in the way he was looking at you. The softness got replaced with darkness you got to know well. Only this time, seeing him like this made you want to experiment. Using the hand that you ruffled his hair with, you traced the outline of his sharp jaw. That simple gesture had much effect on Neil. He dropped the cloth onto the floor and stood up abruptly. Before you could determine what to expect in response, he motioned for you to get up as well. One look at his tense posture was enough to make you decide and obey. Once you were levelled, he made you turn around to look at the bruise below your right shoulder blade. With your back turned and inability to see what his eyes held, you had to depend on the way he touched you. Something felt different. Especially in how close he stepped and how his fingers trailed over the skin surrounding the purple bruise. Then, before you could prepare, you felt his breath on the back of your neck. You shivered as he kissed your shoulder and pulled you flush against his chest. Arms encircled your waist, taking time to explore every curve. Fuck.

“Neil… what…” the coherence was gone.

All you could do was gasp when he lightly scratched the skin on your stomach.

“Let me show you what’s going on” his voice was huskier than you have ever heard it.

He started kissing the back of your neck with urgency. Looking for support, you grabbed the hands that were wrapped around your stomach and held on tight, only gripping stronger when he started biting the skin on your shoulder. You knew that was bound to leave marks. With every new kiss and bite, Neil was getting more confident, using the lack of your protests as a sign to continue. In response, you could only give him access to new spots on your neck.

Using a break in his exploration, you turned in the embrace to face him. The darkness of his irises and blown pupils were enough to make you feel faint. His parted lips were the only thing you could focus on, desperate to kiss him again. Before you could lean in, he whispered:

“If you want to stop, this is the right moment” with how close you were you could see his long eyelashes and slightly crooked nose.

He was beautiful. Feeling the steady grip of his hands on your waist and seeing the longing in his eyes, you realized that, in fact, you did not want to stop. Not when his every touch and kiss made you feel wanted like never before. Neil was still waiting for consent, looking at you with adoration. That was all you needed to tip the scales. You nodded and pulled him closer by entangling your hand in his hair. As your lips crashed, he let out a groan. A giggle rose in your throat and tinted your next kiss with sighs. The heated kisses were everything you needed. He was never close enough. Desperately, your hands tugged at his shirt but to no avail. You let out a frustrated whine when he broke the kiss and took half a step back. The playful sparks in his eyes were enough to assure you that he knew exactly what to do. With wide eyes and shallow breath, you let him part your knees with his long leg, providing support as his hands continued the reverent exploration of your upper body. Hands palming your breasts through the thin fabric of the sports bra were enough to make you curse. The heat flowing through your veins was pooling in your lower stomach, making everything hazy.

“Fuck…” you breathed out, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

The intoxicating smell of his cologne was slowly overwhelming the last bits of sanity.

“That bad?” Neil sounded smug.

His hands travelled south now, brushing over your sides and settling on the skin just above the trousers hemline. All it took was for him to scratch that spot under the belly button, and you shuddered. The only response from him was a short laugh that revibrated through your embraced bodies. That raspy sound was more than revelatory. Suddenly the leg that was so conveniently placed between your knees became the only thing you could focus on. Hooking one of your legs around his hip, you ground down on his thigh, beginning a little movement to ease the ache. That kind of friction had to do.

If he was surprised by your actions, he did not show it, instead working on unbuckling your belt. His hand slipped just as far as the band of your trousers allowed, testing the waters. The gasp and the way your fingers dug into his biceps were all he needed to continue. You sucked on the skin of his neck, wanting nothing but to mark him in any way. At that moment, you realized one thing – you wanted him to be yours. The quiet moan he let out upon your action made you believe that maybe he wanted that too.

The moment he succeeded at undoing the belt on your jeans, you could not hold back the only plea that came to mind.

“Neil, I…” you breathed in his scent, hoping to find salvation in any way possible.

You what? Need you? Want you?... Love you? Perhaps you did.

He responded by unbuttoning your jeans and meeting your eyes for the first time in a while. You knew that was the final opportunity to back out. His eyes were almost black, clouded with the need that made your breath hitch. You did not want to imagine what sight he saw in your flushed face and unfocused eyes. All you could think, and feel was him; his hands knowing exactly where you needed his touch; his eyes making you feel wanted and important. It suddenly made sense, every shared look and close encounter building up to this exact moment. You leaned in, determined to kiss him again when a knock resounded in the bathroom.

“Mahir is here” TP’s voice breaking through the silence was like a sharp wake up call.

You stopped with your lips brushing against Neil’s, sharing a breath. Your eyes met, and you could see that he was just as shocked as you were. There was no going back from this. He closed the distance and gave you a chaste kiss on the lips before taking a definitive step back. You disentangled from him, feeling embarrassment take over any other emotion. Once you were stood on your own again, you swayed a little, overwhelmed by the situation. Even now, Neil noticed and reached out to steady you, carefully touching your arm. Without a word, he picked up your shirt from the floor and passed it to you with a rather contrite expression in his eyes. That was worrying. You swallowed the increasing panic and quickly got dressed, using the fact that he turned away, giving you privacy. While the gesture was thoughtful, you could not help but worry that it meant he was having regrets. Or worse, that he realized that this was not something he actually wanted. Battling those thoughts, you splashed cold water onto your face, hoping to cool off the flushed skin. Looking up at the mirror over the sink, you noticed those blue eyes watching you closely.

“Go, have that whiskey. I’ll join you in a minute” he spoke when you turned to face him.

The space between you felt like an ocean that neither of you could breach. You noticed the furrowed brow and conflicted eyes.

“Neil...” your voice sounded strange without that passionate tone “Are you alright?” you watched him with concern.

What if that’s how you fucked it all up? You could feel the incoming panic attack at the thought. That probably cleared up the question of your own feelings on the matter.

“I just need a moment” upon seeing your worried eyes, he stepped in closer again “Don’t worry, it’s not about this”

But what if…? You desperately wanted to get rid of the sabotaging brain. As though Neil was reading your mind, he leaned in and kissed you on the forehead. The softness took your breath away. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly until you could think straight again.

“Think we should join before they…” he trailed off, and you were hit with the realization of how suspicious the whole situation was.

Bloody hell.

“Yeah, sure,” you hesitated before asking the seemingly most crucial question, “Are we… are we okay?” once you stumbled over it, you met his eyes timidly.

None of that previous bravado could be found right now. You wondered how it changed within mere minutes.

“Yes, of course. Never been better” he picked up a stray long hair from his shirt.

A tell-tale sign of what happened. Or nearly happened. You eyed him curiously once more, to assure yourself that he was real and fine. Your eyes froze on the reddish mark on his neck, visible through the unbuttoned collar. Your work. Feeling shame burn on your cheeks, you decided to let him know.

“Neil… there’s… you’ve got…” you huffed, unable to formulate the sentence.

He was watching you with a charming expression in his eyes, making the matters worse.

“You might want to look in the mirror before you go outside” you blurted out the sentence and added, “I’m sorry”.

You could not miss the way his eyes lit up as he glanced at the mirror then.

“Nothing to be sorry about” he sent you a smirk.

*** When you finally joined TP and Mahir, you realized how badly that whiskey was needed. You took a long sip even before acknowledging them both. If that was in any way surprising, they did not show. And neither did they comment on how long you and Neil stayed in that bathroom. Luckily. You hugged Mahir and settled down on the sofa.

“Are you alright?” TP eyed you quickly.

“Yeah, I’ll live” you smiled lightly, enjoying the way alcohol hit, taking the edge off.

“Neil made himself useful, I hope”

Oh no. You tried to mask the horrified expression on your face by taking another large gulp. Fucking hell. It was meant to be a joke, but you had a hard time finding words again. This was looking to be a long evening…

“Yeah, he did” you looked up for a split second and gave your brightest grin.

That had to do. You had no way of knowing whether TP bought that because, at that moment, Neil chose to make an appearance.

“Good to see you back Mahir” he wandered over to the man in question and slapped his shoulder gently.

You took the notice of his shirt collar, buttoned up all the way. Without the tie, that looked suspicious. At that moment, you vowed to never again let yourself get that lost in such circumstances. Even for Neil, the embarrassment was not worth it. You kept on staring as he poured himself a shot of whiskey. Huh. Apart from that, he looked perfectly composed.

“So… how did it go on your end?” Neil joined you on the sofa, keeping a respectable distance.

His eyes flicked between you and Mahir.

“Everything perfect up until the last moment” your partner looked at you with interest “But maybe that’s best explained by Y/N”

“There isn’t much to explain… I… uh, got caught up by unexpected obstruction and had to make late-exit onto the tarmac just before the explosion” you shrugged halfheartedly.

The three pairs of eyes were staring at you with a wide range of emotions. TP was shocked, perhaps a little worried and suspicious. Mahir was perplexed, undoubtedly wondering why your story felt so disjointed. And Neil was looking at you with that same concerned and infatuated expression you knew well. Sighing, you tried to steer the attention away.

“What matters is that it went well, and we’re most likely getting away” you plastered a weak smile onto your face.

“Fair point” Mahir came to your rescue “How about you lads? Everything good?”

TP tensed at the question. You knew that he would rather keep you all out of the circle of those initiated. To him, all three of you were only helping, necessary but costly additions to making his mission succeed. You were not supposed to know the truth.

“The distraction worked” he answered, finally, smiling at Neil lightly “No one suspected anything, and we had time to explore the pentagon” he hesitated.

Your eyes flicked to Neil, but his troubled expression gave nothing away.

“I got my answers and even more questions” that was a definite answer, as TP picked up his drink from the table.

“And the rest is silence, huh?” Neil smirked, and you glared at him.

You ignored the warmth that spread in your chest upon seeing his cheeky smile and sparkling eyes. Shit. He mirrored your look with a little head tilt, still smiling. The look in his eyes was something you could not describe. But it felt important. Before you could contemplate it further, TP replied.

“Well… yes. The job is done for you, and unfortunately, I can’t give you any explanation” he shrugged apologetically.

Not everything is so different.

“Understood” you nodded curtly and focused your gaze on the carpet.

“Well, if this is our last night together… we might as well have fun” Neil got up, on the way brushing his hand over your knee.

You clenched your jaw. His nerve never failing to surprise you.

“Anyone wants more whiskey?” he raised the bottle, undoubtedly glancing at you.

“Yes, please,” you deadpanned.

When he came over to give you a refill, you stared at the ruffled blonde hair and inhaled the whiff of his cologne that accompanied him. Creepy or not, it was needed.

Once everyone had the needed amount of alcohol, you drifted into a rather confusing terrain of trying to talk to TP without disclosing anything significant about yourselves. Mahir went first, and you were surprised by how good he was at spinning his life story in a way that made him seem like a freelancer. He mentioned working with Neil, another fellow free spirit. That seemed strangely fitting, and the boss bought it in no time. And then he asked about you. Or more precisely, how come you had all that experience and where Neil knew you from.

“I’ve started the freelancing gig a few years back after gaining experience in the gov” the lie rolled off your tongue easily.

All that thanks to alcohol.

“You’ve worked with British Intelligence?” TP arched his eyebrow skeptically.

You knew what he meant; you were quite young for that kind of experience.

“Yeah, I was a young prodigy,” you shrugged, attempting smugness “And then Neil and I met on a little job recently” you glanced at the man in question and found him staring at you “He must’ve taken his liking to me since he went straight to me for this one” you smirked upon seeing Neil’s eyes widen.

How about that? It did not take him long to recover.

“Who can blame me if I did” he grinned “You’re good at what you do. And at everything really” he batted his eyelashes at you.

Stifling the urge to groan, you replied:

“Thank you, I’ll take that,” downing the rest of the drink, you got up “I’m pretty tired, so I’ll head off now. It was a pleasure to work with all of you” you shook TP’s hand and nodded at Mahir.

Neil was to be ignored. Which was inconvenient given the fact that he was the one to let you of the apartment. Once you were out of sight in the narrow corridor, he placed his hand on your waist, effectively pinning you to the wall. You gaped at him, surprised and intrigued. He leaned in close and whispered:

“Thought you’d know better than to slip out without saying goodbye,” he nuzzled your neck, just below the ear.

You shivered, unable to pretend that it was not working. You realized that act might need to be given up now.

“I was hoping you’ve had enough of me tonight” biting hard onto your lower lip you tried to level your breathing.

Neil kissed your neck before responding.

“I wouldn’t count on that” he took his time, breathing you in and making sure you understood his intentions.

“Ever?” you cringed at how breathless you sounded already.

“Mhmm” he left one more reverent kiss in the crook of your neck before raising his head “For me, this was only a little prelude” his eyes sparkled playfully.

He grinned when you rolled your eyes.

“Fantastic. Now let me go, please?” you ignored the voice that suggested letting him do whatever the hell he wanted to you.

But it was easier said than done. Your breath hitched when he lightly nibbled on your earlobe, letting his hand travel down your hip and then between your thighs in a smooth movement. Relentless bastard. The previous ache was threatening to come back at any moment. And now was definitely not the time. You leaned back as far as the wall allowed you and glared at him. With a cheeky smile, he retracted his hand and beamed at you, ever so innocently.

“Of course,” he kissed you on the lips chastely, for the second time tonight, “I’m nothing but a gentleman”

“That’s debatable” up this close his eyes seemed too blue to be real “Goodnight, Neil” 

“Night night, darling” letting go of you, he opened the door with a flourish “Sleep well and dream of me” he winked when you were out in the corridor.

“Kindly, fuck off darling” you stormed down the corridor.

It did not take him long to keep on bothering you. Entering your own hotel room fifteen minutes later, you heard the text chime:

“Good thing I’ve got that scarf with me” Idiot. You grinned fondly despite yourself.

“You have a slap incoming, I think” you typed back and lied down on the bed.

“You can start tomorrow night with that then” that did not take him long.

Ah yes, your night out… absolutely terrifying.

“Is it still on?” you nibbled on your lip, not sure what sort of answer you wanted.

“Of course. If anything, tonight gave more reasons to take you out”

Okay… You rolled onto your stomach and hid your face in the pillow. Now that is going to be a nerve-wracking day… and night. You had a feeling those butterflies in your stomach were not going to stop.

[swtorramblings]

The Many in the One

For Day 3 of Mace Windu Appreciation Week.

Crossover: There are plenty of interesting works of fiction and fictional characters out there, let’s see Mace interacting with one, or more! Is it someone from another sci-fi series? Or another Samuel L. Jackson character? The sky’s the limit for who he might meet.

Sorry, but romance? Ships? I’d need a much longer run up for anything like that, if I could make it work at all. I should have started earlier in the month, I guess. Well, unless it was set to Disney music. Hmm… So, I went with the alternative. As such, it is quite a bit more far-fetched than the previous stories. Hopefully still all right, though. It’s also longer.

“Unlimited power!” As the last words Mace was ever going to hear, those were especially stupid. And horribly frustrating. He’d protected the Republic all his life. Dying now to this tyrant that had installed himself as its ruler, with the approval of so many, crushed his hopes long before it was going to crush his body. It was almost a relief when he was flung out the broken window. He fell, his final thoughts devoted to trying to find a solution, something that could have been done differently, tormenting him with answers that no one could have known until it was much too late. Then, he had a vision. Wolves, racing in a circle. A way to make another chance, a portal opened in the past, but reaching out to him now, and echoing into the future and the past. He reached for it with his remaining hand, closed his eyes, and pulled. He landed on a path, floating strangely in space. He had expected to be crushed by the fall, still, but looking around, his survival in this strange place was probably the least surprising thing about it. He could sense them out there, all of those that had ever been able to access this place, this world between worlds. In this place, there was only this one moment, so they were all here. Thousands of them, perhaps. Along with several other Mace Windus. He tended to his injury first. The wrist was cauterized, so he was in no danger of bleeding to death, but he wanted to be sure it wouldn’t cause him any further issues, other than having to adjust his fighting techniques. Then he remembered that he had lost his lightsaber along with the hand. He realized also that he was still in shock, from the fight, from the failure. No point in dwelling on it. He set off, exploring this strange place. He found several portals back to the galaxy, but recognized them for the past. He was tempted, to go through one, to warn them, perhaps even to warn himself. As he explored, though, he realized that he would unravel reality if he did so. What had happened was tragic, but he couldn’t risk making it even worse. Then, strangely, he found himself, but not as he had ever been. It wasn’t his past, and he had no future, so who was this? He was certain that it wasn’t just a random resemblance, but truly himself, and yet not. This portal, he could feel, was safe. More, it was necessary. He stepped through. The other him was startled, of coursed, but calmed himself quickly and echoed Mace’s own thoughts from earlier. “Well, you’re not the strangest thing I’ve seen lately.” “No, neither are you. Where am I? Who are you?” “It’s hard to explain. We’re inside a vessel from the far future, where a horrible accident flung it here. I’m Dr. Harry Adams.” “Ah, that does make sense. Mace Windu.” “That’s an odd name.” “I could say the same. Anyway, I’m dealing with time travel right now myself.” “Because of course you are. The problem is, this machine is twisting our own thoughts against us. I’m trying to be dispassionate, but my own fears will add to the others eventually if we can’t get them under control.” He felt it, pulling at him as well. Power to make his thoughts real, if he let it, if he could remain focused, but horribly destructive if he lost control. He smiled at his latest apprentice. “That, at least, I think I can help you with.”

The training took some time, but their unique situation made it possible, still. He didn’t have to train Harry in all the nuances of the Force, or lightsaber combat, strategy, or any of the myriad things a Jedi might need. Only the technique of self-control, awareness, and letting go. Still, it probably took years. Harry was normally too old to have accepted this teaching, but they had the time. Eventually, he shook hands with his teacher, and left the sphere. Mace knew he would eventually have to return to the path. He also realized that he had already done what he was about to do. He was beginning to hate time travel. He returned to the world between worlds, allowing himself to be drawn back. He looked at his new hand, a robotic one similar to the one Skywalker sported, created with the Sphere’s power. It made him uncomfortable, but something had told him that he would need it soon. The other item he’d created while in the Sphere he drew from his belt. As he pressed the switch, the purple light made him smile.

He came to another portal, seeing himself once again, an older man who had endured a great deal, and was using that experience to save others, to force them to act together to save themselves. Moments later, he died, horribly. Mace waited for the scene to start over again. He could appreciate irony, and knew he probably shouldn’t interfere, but this went too far. He was speaking his last words now. “But first, we’re going to seal off this…” Mace jumped through the portal and struck just as the massive aquatic beast emerged from the water, slashing through it with his lightsaber, driving it, badly wounded, back into the water. Then he raised his hand, strained for a moment, and brought down the heavy steel door slamming down to seal this entryway. His counterpart backed away, gaping at him in fear. He tried to smile reassuringly for a moment, but it wasn’t working, so he turned to the others. “All of you, are you going to listen to this man?” They just stared. “I said…” Uncharacteristically, he raised his voice. He preferred calm persuasion, but it seemed like what they would respond to. “ARE YOU GOING TO LISTEN TO THIS MAN?” They all started nodding vigorously. One of them said, “Yes, anything he says.” “Good. Maybe you’ll get out of here alive.” Two journeys, both underwater. He wondered if Master Fisto should have been on this journey, but the job had fallen to him. Still, he liked the idea that he was honoring his old friend here. He hoped he would approve, even if he had to hurt the sea creature. He nodded to himself, who nodded back, and stepped back onto the path.

He saved a brutal man, a version of himself that was a paid killer, with a simple telekinetic trick to divert the projectiles that would have killed him. This also saved this version’s friend, but only for the moment. The other him, though, decided to do better. As a small reward, Mace got a glimpse of something in a case his other self carried, and was comforted for a moment by its golden light. Really, the snakes were no trouble at all. His fragile but brilliant self Mace attempted to persuade from his path, but he was too enamored of his own theories about the way the world worked to be changed. A shame. The leader, the manipulator, the organizer, he also couldn’t save, gunned down in his apartment. Mace eventually replaced him, knowing that his work wasn’t done, learning enough of this strange world to be able to explain how he had lived through the attack that his allies found plausible. It was a good life for a time, though the eyepatch sometimes itched. Eventually, though, after having seen himself in many lives and many circumstances, his own hair grown and gray, he knew his time was nearly over. Through one last portal, before he returned to that moment on Coruscant, he heard his own voice, impossibly helping a young woman, a young Jedi, long after his own death. He knew he had to return to be there when she would need them all, so he went back to that first portal, finally, and fulfilled his fate and his duty with no regrets. Mace Windu became one with the Force, like all before and after him, but had touched the multiverse. How could he have regrets?

[eddiemxnsons]

OUTSIDE — Edward ‘Hillbilly’ Jones

REQUESTED BY: @ourmiraclealigner —

hi! i really loved your take on the last request and was wondering if you could write something else when you get the chance? where the reader is really struggling with everything she’s seeing on peleliu and hillbilly tries cheer her up? maybe she gets hurt and doesn’t call for help?

TRIGGER WARNING: Blood, mental illness, suicide ideation

TAGLIST: @noneofurbusinez

SHE TOLD HERSELF that the floods of crimson fear were merely awry brain chemicals, her amygdala pinged, and then attempted to analyse the situation as an bystander; pondering how a military officer — not a human — would take action. They certainly wouldn’t be cramped ass to ankles in a mud-sodden foxhole, questioning every man lost and if there was an absent step in each incident, a step that would have yanked their golden souls away from Death’s irate tendrils. Where had she gone wrong? She had lost so many men — friends — in this ardent bitterness festering on the Pacific island.

The darkened island was an empire of misery and fear for Y/N; memories of death tucked in with the foliage, playing a macabre game of hide and seek behind trunks with murmurs of young men’s hysterical implores to a savior that wasn't there. A ripple in reality was at her fingertips as she discarded a mournful, muddied foxhole for an equivalent agony beneath the rich canopy of kaleidoscope trees, rifle haphazardly swung on a strap between her shoulder blades. The moon beamed like a flashlight clenched in a steady hand as the stars brushed the curved branches, her weary eyes fixated on the corpses abuzz with hungry flies. And upon the forest floor so woven with ancient tree roots, was subtle streams of crimson, no longer a softened light from nature's bouquet above. And the overwrought young girl in her had emerged with the ghosts behind the trees, the boogeymen of a child’s unconscious mind.

And she momentarily surrendered her obligation of nightly patrol to the small girl misplaced amidst the decaying corpses of men. A fleeting feeling rumbled in her core as if the rumpled yet headstrong woman that stalled in the rain had vanished, a young girl with braids at the facets of her freckled face, and a simper of gold in her absence. Perhaps the war was all a dream. She’d awake in her bed, murmuring of the story her conscious had trudged her soul through. Her soul that wouldn’t be dilated red with the blood of her men. Yet, imagining this itself was a fantasy and was sanity laying in madness.

She’d continuing traipsing her normal patrol with a burdensome soul, a ledger stark red with blood that wasn’t as easy to scour away like blood upon skin. A mental imprint of the young men that cursed her existence from whatever beyond existed. Ones that could pluck her through a ripple of reality, have her on scarred knees imploring for forgiveness beneath the twilight.

An absentminded hand clutched the golden cross stowed under the threadbare collar of her jacket; a dangling sheath of metal that she had prayed over too many times for her aching chest. God wasn’t here. This was a breeding ground of devastation and only the Devil could prosper amidst the chaotic sorrows of humanity’s war. Raindrops accumulated along its frayed edges as she stared at it from beneath rain-sodden eyelashes. She felt a fool for adorning it, a fool for providing false hope.

Y/N weakly lowered herself to a moss-encrusted log, every inch of her body felt as if it accommodated lead weights, her legs cramping with agonizing spasms. The frustrated gulp she took burned her larynx as she gasped for breaths of the humid air, crying despite her distaste for succumbing to this fear.

The ghostly, sweetly bloody fingers of soldiers that failed to be successes of her miraculous hands traced delves into her shoulder blades. They were ambassadors from a misery far away from the comprehension of the sane. The copper sourness exuded from the flickers of their souls in her peripheral, their wounds not healed in the bittersweet glory of the afterlife, rather stark against the ivory complexion of their drained bodies.

Y/N’s throat clawed with the irate exhaustion of her very being to implore for salvation from this eternal hell. Her hand clenched the front of her uniform just as if she was holding what remained of her soul from rotting into the abyss of a lamenting chest. She needed it to stop. Her piteous tears were waving flags of surrender, oval sorrows to the surviving company beyond the slick horizon — to Edward Jones.

Y/N wanted a life with him, oh, how she did. Yet, didn’t desire to be cradled in a life where she was broken and bruised, wrecked from the inside out by war. And that’s why she remained crouched against the fallen trunk, alright with letting the forsaken souls of soldiers take her away, take her away from the death and more dying men. She had nothing left. Ashes of a soul gradually vanishing with each final breath of a fellow soldier. It’s not what her company deserved. It’s not want Edward deserved.

All she could hear was the obnoxious banging of her heart as she peered up with her lungs clenching in her chest almost immediately; a soldier — Japanese — huddled alongside a bullet-ridden tree trunk, glowering at her, eyes searing holes into her soul. Even in the murky shadows, Y/N’s weepy eyes found his finger cramping on the trigger of his rifle.

Yet, she remained there, back constrained against a rooted tropical plant with her own rifle trembling in bloodied hands, a clasp weakening to relinquish the weapon to a congregating puddle. Her mouth was open, but it was an oblivion of silence, not even a single wisp of breath as the pair of them mounted within a tense stare-off. Her bloodshot eyes trickled over the defined, silver corners and edges of the enemy’s rifle — her gateway away from this crimson hell. She wanted to scream at the shadowy soldier to pull the damned trigger, to hush the sullen memories. Pull the trigger, kill the tarnished soul beneath. Dying was quicker than falling asleep. Her achy eyes eased shut, fingers cramping in fragility to renounce her weapon and surrender to a bullet.

Yet, the meager burst of life in her decayed soul desperately thrashed and penetrated the water’s surface her mind was submerged in, writhing against a lotus of misery. It begged for the life she could live, clamored how she wasn’t a bad person. Bad things occurred around her, but she wasn’t a rotten soul for it. She is a categorical victim of war, constantly drowned in tidal waves of guilt, regret, pain, anger. But, she did everything she could have to save those boys.

Y/N heels are what landed roughly first into the crumbly dirt as she anchored jellied legs upon the soiled ground, boots noisily striking rolling pebbles littered in the grass. She cast a hand out to seize up her rifle in a mirror position to the enemy sewed between the foliage. She was the best shot in the company, yet the trigger-happy soldier opposing her trembling stance was a faster one.

Her stomach lurched at the recognized poignant screech from the discharge of a rifle. A successor to shots that silenced golden laughter and made dull lively gazes. Y/N heaved herself absentmindedly backward to elude the contempt trajectory of the approaching bullet. Her boots slipped shortly on slick algae in the shallow water of a stream, trudging through soupy sand until she was struck frozen.

The blast into the gentle air had collapsed into her shoulder and the utter velocity of the meager shard of metal propelled her to the ground. Her chin plummeted through a dense mound of congealed mud, specks of nature’s grime embroidering with the blood splattered across her cheek. Distantly, her bewildered mind detected the silent atmosphere being hindered by fleeing footsteps, a harsh murmur from a foreign land. The soldier thought she was dead.

Her gaze was alight with so much perplexion and despair as she strained to ease herself onto her back, breaths aching her throat. The gaze poked out from eyes swathed with a solidfying concoction of blood and mud, yet her shivering hands trailed to her wound rather than to scrub away the blinding, burning substances.

Cramped fingers shakily reached to apply pressure to what she could access of the wound. She gasped through gritted teeth at the impressive surge of agony trembling her petite frame, her blood now painting her clammy palms.

“Fuck, fuck,” she panted incredibly fast, securing her hands to the accessible portions in a last desire for survival. She was a thoroughly trained medic, yet all that knowledge that was typically at her fingertips, was dissipating with her fading resolve to save herself.

A hollow feeling bloomed at the center of her chest almost immediately at the stark crimson soiling her hands and the brilliant white of pain ricocheting from her shoulder. Dying. She was on a path ending with the turbid shadow of Death. Dead, dead, dead. She was going to die — nobody would be coming. This is what she had wanted, trekked out into the gloomy forest with whispers of intention for death. Yet, was it selfish to forsake Death and proclaim the worthiness of her life? To say she couldn’t leave another soul behind in despair?

However, there was essentially nothing at her dispense to stanch the bleeding without proper assistance. I’m so sorry, Ed. She’ll see him one day. Take your time. I’ll see you on the other side, was her farewell penned to the company’s golden boy in a letter that’ll never be physically scribed. She had touched him for the last time, kissed him for the last time, smiled at him for the last time, spoke to him for the last time, loved him for the last time.

Her mind was prospering with a bitter fire of panic, her chest saturating with this tightening feeling of misery, letting it scorch her from the inside; was this how all those young men felt as they held her hand and cry for their mothers as they bleed out from shredded wounds on their bodies?

But, she never screamed once for any of the troopers that she knew were beyond the rain-sodden horizon — never once in palpable desperation for Edward. She craved death so badly just mere minutes before, and to wish away the desires only festered karma to strike. There was no eluding Death. This was all inevitable and attempting to play God by saving herself, someone not much worthy of living, was foolish.

Her GI-issued uniform was saturated with the rain water and the tickles of sweat emitting from her clammy skin, and it only was anchoring her further into the cradle of sludge. Her free hand reached for the swaying cross on her blemished collarbone, a glance from sore eyes squinting to the cloudy sky for salvation. For a wish that God saw her through a tranquil demise, a desire that he vowed to her that her family — Edward — would fare well without her.

With the smell of Death soaking through and through her skin, perhaps even grazing her rattling bones, she knew she was being anchored into a dusky conscious. The hand planted around the curve of her shoulder uneasily limpened and greeted the plunge of blood that swirled into the rain puddle beneath her. Ragged breaths careened from her glass chest and absentminded fingers poked and prodded at her dog tags suspended beneath her collar. Her mouth was dryer than a sandbox beneath the summer sun whilst her mind contemplated through races of agitation and sorrow being casted. The frustration was a burning rod weaving between the bones of her ribcage, cooking with the shared gaze between her and the sky.

A cacophony of disturbed dirt and pebbles shot through the tension like the bullet bound to the muscles of her shoulder. Her agitation shattered into petrifaction, absentmindedly maneuvering her tender body further into the ink of the shadows. Had the soldier returned to confirm his belief? The belief that she was long dead?

“Y/L/N!”

It was her relief for the patrol that had her ambling amidst the forested graveyard in the first place. Her relief being, by some divine yet sadistic logic, Captain Haldane and Lieutenant Edward Jones. The bitter realization urged her diminishing strength to wrench herself up to sit behind the tree, entirely absent from their view. However, whilst she careened herself up to a sitting stance, she screamed regardless of her resolve to suppress the mind-numbing anguish for the sake of herself and the soldiers not at the mercy of the prowling Japanese.

Y/N fastened her hand over her mouth hastily, clenching her teeth on the begrimed arch of her palm to subdue her whimpers as her wound scraped against rough mounds of bark on the trunk.

Their heels are what landed roughly first into the crumbly dirt adjacent to her shoddy hiding place, skidding a few feet in shell casings, shredded leaves, and rocky sand before a flash of camo green slashed through her spotty gaze. Edward collapsed into dampened dirt amidst the cluster of puddles, blood, and grime whilst Haldane hastened off to retrieve a corpsman. Edward’s expression was consumed with petrification as he regarded her bloodied body heaving against the concave of the trunk. There was so much blood and dirt on her baggy uniform and what skin was exposed.

“Why didn’t you fucking call for help?” He hissed harshly in the midst of recovering a clod of gauze from his jacket, hastily dressing it across her wound without forewarning.

If more strength could have been mustered, she would have nudged him aside and tended to her wounds with more experienced hands, but she was pinned to the ridges of the trunk with her entire body churning with waves of agony. Her chest was heaving and she couldn’t get any word uttered through her clenched throat, the pain superiorizing the need to talk. He rose a few meek fingers on her cheek to shift her amiss gaze to himself, her instinctively subsiding into the meager touch.

Her eyes were just as remarkably expanded as his as they steadied eye contact with one another, and it seemed incredulous now to call her the most dangerous in the regiment when she trembled like an ill child.

“I didn’t because...because....I can’t handle any of this anymore....” she babbled nearly incoherently despite their close proximity, “Just g-go....let me go. I-it’s okay....”

Edward glanced to her with stern glint in his narrowing eyes, “You stop that talk. There’s no outcome in which I leave you here to die. And don’t pity the dead ‘round us now, don’t believe they are dead because of you. None of them are. Their deaths - their blood — that’s all soaking the Jap’s hands, not yours. I see how you pull out every stop to save the lives of these men. You don’t see the wounds, you see the person around them.”

His present hand shifted to skim the rough patch of his thumb across the begrimed apple of her cheek whilst the other one exerted pressure to her wound. And she couldn’t refuse when his hands drew her head into the crook of his neck, embracing her tight to make her cracks remain together. Her leaden arms encompassed his torso whilst easing her cheek to his chest, the aloof ruckus of an approaching medic and her captain resounding behind them.

And she’d go on.

[crystalwillow]

When You’re Ready

Pairing: Rafael Aveiro x Casey Valentine (F!MC)

A/N: Hi guys. This is my first time rewriting a chapter as my own short fiction. I don’t see many fanfictions with Rafael and Casey (both male and female MC). I won’t be quoting may lines from the actual chapters because my brain is a mess and I forgot to screenshot a lot of what’s happened recently as I was so emotionally engaged in it all. But I thought it would be sweet to add this into the mix. 

Tagging: @kiteplayschoices 

--- After they know the cure worked and they’re both awake ---

Casey had just been told by a happy Sienna that Rafael had woken up, and she could go to see him. He’d been asking for her. Happily, Casey made her way to his room, but stopped in her tracks as she heard shouting coming from his room.

“Did you even think of me before you charged in there?!”

“I- No. I didn’t”

“Just as I thought. Goodbye, Rafael. I’m glad you’re okay but... we’re not. In fact there is no ‘we’ anymore. This relationship is over.”

“Sora-“

Casey watched as Rafael’s now ex-boyfriend stormed out of the room, stopping and turning to look at her before heading off through the halls in a rush. Tears stinging his eyes. Taking a deep breath, Casey walked on hesitantly and entered Raf’s room, poking her head in first. Rafael looked up and a smile graced his features. Even though he was still a little pale and clearly dehydrated, to her he still looked as beautiful as he did the first day she saw him. She entered and returned his smile as she sat in the chair beside the bed.

“Hey. Are you okay? I heard.. what happened just now.”

“Oh. ... Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah... Sora was right. I wanted it to work, but... my heart? It wasn’t in it.”

“I see.” Casey said nodding, focusing on a wall before looking back into his eyes. “So... what does this mean for you now? Are you still going to Brazil, or...?”

Rafael looked at the door for a minute. Thought flickering over his face before he focused back on Casey.

“No. No, I don’t think so. I told myself that moving would.... be good for me. A new frontier. But now that I think about it. I think I was just running away.”

He moved his hand slightly, Casey noticed and laced their fingers together and he squeezed lightly.

“I’m going to stay. I need to. I wanted a change, and well.. I got one.”

The two locked eyes and grinned at each other briefly. Casey scooted closer and rested her head on his shoulder, Rafael leaning his head onto hers and taking a deep breath. A ghost of a smile crossed his face as they stayed like that for a while. In that moment, a lot clicked into place. One of those things being that his break-up with Sora a few moments ago didn’t hurt like it should have, because he wanted this. He wanted Casey. Then his eyes widened as the final realization came forward. He loves her, and wants to love her for the rest of their lives. But he shook the thought from his mind, forcing himself to enjoy the current moment.

--- Days Later ---

“Dr. Valentine? ... Casey?”

She turned round to face the other person in her room, still in a bit of a daze.

“Hm?”

“I’m discharging you.”

“What? But.”

Ethan stopped her by holding up his hand. “Don’t even attempt to argue with me. I’m happy with your latest test results. I’m sending you home.”

Casey sat on the bed, silent as her gaze fell to the floor. She was scared, though she wouldn’t openly admit that to anyone just yet. Even though she had admitted she was scared of dying, this seemed different to her.

“Can I do normal things again?” she asked numbly

“Yes. You can walk, eat your favourite ice cream, do light exercise. No sexual activity though please, that’s too strenuous. I don’t need you re-admitted.”

He had made his last comment in hope of getting her to smile but it was evident that wasn’t going to work. Sighing, Ethan sat in the chair next to her bed.

“What is it?”

“Can I go to the memorial?”

“I wouldn’t suggest it. Like Rafael, your immune system is still a bit weak. So whilst yes, I am discharging you. I would suggest staying away from large gatherings for a while.”

“Can I see Rafael? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine Casey. Said something about going home to his vovo.”

“His Grandma.” Casey said quietly, a ghost of  a smile on her lips. “He loves her so much. The guilt that hit him when we were in that isolation room before he went into his coma...” she trailed off as she remembered that moment. Wishing she could have just had the courage to kiss his lips, even if it was just a light peck. Or just kissing his cheek. She regrets not laying out how she felt before he slipped into his deepened state of sleep.

“Casey?”

She turned her head to look Ethan in the eye.

“You should go and see him. He was asking after you before he left. He wanted to come here but was more concerned about getting to his grandma.”

“He really does love her. I don’t blame him. She must have been worried sick about her poor grandson.”

Ethan hummed in agreement with a tight nod.

“When you’re ready you’re free to go.” He told her as he got up and left the room.

“Dr. Ramsey?” Casey called out. Ethan stopped in the doorway and turned around to look at her.

“Yes?”

“Thank you. For looking after me. Helping me recover. You’re a good friend.”

“It was nothing. I wasn’t going to lose you too.”

She smiled at him and he smiled back before leaving. Casey collected her belongings and was soon in a cab on her way to Rafael’s grandma’s house. When she got there, she paid the cab driver and stepped out, slinging her bag over her shoulder and looking at the front door. Before she could even walk up one cobblestone on the path, a short and delighted looking old lady came rushing outside.

“Thank you!” she half sighed, half shrieked as she hugged Casey tightly. Surprise spread onto Casey’s face. Rafael appeared at the door and chuckled.

“Vovo. Let the poor woman come inside first. I’m sorry Casey, she’s a... little excited to meet you.”

His grandma pulled away from Casey, beaming brightly.

“Don’t make such a fuss Rafael! This girl helped save your life! She should be thanked properly.”

Rafael chuckled again, standing up straight.

“Well shall we at least invite her inside?”

“Oh of course! How rude of me. Come in Casey, come in.”

She said excitedly, taking the young doctors hand and pulling her inside past Rafael who beamed at her happily. He closed the door behind them and followed to the kitchen, stopping next to Casey, leaning over and whispering to her.

“Two seconds and she already loves you more than me.”

“What can I say? I’m pretty loveable.”

“Can’t argue there.”

The two shared a smile as Rafael’s grandma turned back to them, with a plate full of pastries.

“Now. You two must be starving. I know for a fact you haven’t eaten since breakfast Rafael.” She fixed him with a stern look. and he grinned back sheepishly, grabbing a delicious looking pastry from the plate.

“Thank you vovo.”

“And you dear? What would you like?”

Casey looked at the plate considering her options. But her face fell, she wasn’t hungry right now, and she felt rotten for not wanting to choose a pastry. They looked beautiful and like a great amount of love had gone into making them. Rafael noticed the shift in her features and smiled softly, squeezing her hand under the table as he swallowed his bite of food.

“Vovo? Why don’t we let Casey rest for a bit first. She’s just left the hospital.”

“Okay. But I’ll leave these here for you two to enjoy. But don’t eat them all, I’ve got friends from bingo coming over later.” She smiled kindly and left the room, heading into a different one just down the hall. Rafael put his pastry down on the table and turned to Casey, a worried frown taking over his features as he took her hands in his.

“Raf?”

“Are you okay Casey? I’ve been worried about you.”

“Honestly? No. I’m far from okay.”

He sighed and pulled her to his chest holding her tight. Casey clung to him as if she was afraid he’d disappear when she let go.

“I can’t even go to the darn memorial. I led two people to their deaths, and I can’t even pay my respects and tell them how sorry I am. And I’m sure sienna hates me. I mean I practically killed the man she wanted to date. Or was dating. Whatever. She’s lost the first person who loved her and showed her how special she was. I took him from her.”

“Hey. Hey. Where’s all of this coming from? You didn’t kill them, Casey.”

“I may as well have done. Just took a knife and stabbed them, or a gun and shot them in the head. I got them trapped-, I got all of us trapped in that room. I could have killed you too. I could have lost you. The man I-” she stopped as a sob escaped her. Rafael sighed and held her close. Rubbing comforting circles on her back as she clung to him for dear life.

“It’s just. It’s not fair! I can understand that Travis may not have cared if he died. That he wanted the senator to pay for essentially being the cause in the death of his brother. But... why not let us go first? Why not let people who were just doing their jobs and saying goodbyes leave? Why did we have to be there? Why did Danny and Bobby have to pay with their lives? If anyone was to die. It should have been me.”

“Casey, no. Don’t talk like that! Please.”

“But it’s the truth isn’t it? I made the misjudgment of just barging in there. I discovered what was going on. I was the main catalyst in getting people hurt and killed. I hear voices. Their voices. They blame me. And they’re right. It is all my fault. It’s my fault Bobby won’t be giving his daughter that car on her 16th. It’s my fault that Sienna and Danny will never ever again go on a date or flirt or just be happy together like they deserved. I’m a monster Rafael. I should have quit when the situation with Mrs. Martinez happened. Not even fought to keep my medical license. It’s clear that I don’t deserve it.”

“What?! Are you mad? Of course you deserve that license Casey. You’re a brilliant doctor. How many people have you helped get on the path to recovery? Get completely better and given them plans to follow and the right medications to make sure they never have to step inside a hospital for the same reason again? If you don’t deserve that license and are such a monster of a doctor... why in God’s name did Dr. Banerji choose you to be the junior fellow? Why has he, along with so many others including me, supported you. Defended you. Time and time again when someone else berated you for making a mistake. One they would have probably made too if they were in your position. You helped save a woman’s life on your first day as an intern, and you hadn’t even gone through your orientation yet. You’re amazing Casey. Those are just a few of the many reasons I-”

Casey sat quietly, keeping her head rested on Rafael’s chest as tears streamed down her cheeks and she choked on quiet sobs. Part of her knew he was right. Everything she had, her second year residency, her place on the diagnostic team. All of it. She had it because of the people she met and impressed during her first year at Edenbrook. She got lost in her thoughts and suddenly inhaled a sharp breath. Rafael shifted, pulling back and looking at her.

“Are you okay?”

“...yeah. I- It’s just. Don’t worry. It’s stupid.”

“Nothing is ever stupid. You can tell me. What’s wrong?”

“Well.. I’ve almost lost you twice now. And I-”

He sighed deeply and pulled her back into his chest, wrapping his arms round her tightly, resting his chin on her head as he closed his eyes. Pushing back the tears that pricked his eyes and threatened to spill out and down his cheek, he give Casey a kiss into her hair.

“Casey?”

“Mhm?” she hummed, enjoying the almost comfortable peace of the moment.

“Shall we go for a walk? The air could do us some good. Plus there are some things we need to talk about, that I’d rather only our ears hear. For now at least.”

Casey shifted and looked up at him, they locked gazes and there was something in his eyes. A look that was similar to longing. She gave him a small smile and nod.

“Okay. Sure.”

He beamed back at her and called out to his grandma. “Vovo?! I’m taking Casey for a walk around the block. We’ll be back soon!”

After a response from his grandma, Rafael grabbed his keys and the rest of his pastry, before leading Casey outside and shutting the door securely behind them.

“Are you sure you didn’t want anything? I could go back in quickly and grab you something.”

“No thank you. I’m okay.”

With an indifferent shrug, he stuffed his keys in his pocket as he walked down the path with Casey following behind before they walked side by side. For the first few moments, they walked in a companionable silence. After that they got lost in conversation, it was mainly Casey listening to Rafael tell more childhood stories of his and pointing out places that held special meaning to him.

As they turned into the park, Rafael pointed to a tree.

“Let’s go and sit down for a bit.”

“Why under a tree when there’s a perfectly good bench there?” Casey giggled

“Why on a bench in the sun, when you can sit under a tree in the shade and stay cool?”

“Touché.”

They made their way over to the tree and sat at it’s base next to each other. He smiled as Casey automatically rested her head on his shoulder.

“Heavy head?”

“You have an idea of what this feels like? I feel like I...”

“Have a bowling ball for a head?”

They looked at each other and laughed as Casey nodded.

“Exactly that.”

Rafael smiled at her and they stared into the distance for a while before he cleared his throat. Casey turned to him with a soft smile.

“Are you okay? I haven’t asked you that for a while. How are you coping?”

“I’d say pretty well, all things considered.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, yes I almost died. Sora broke things off. We lost friends. But... I’m doing good.”

“How about your grandma? Is she okay?”

“She’s thankful that I’m alive. But really? She’s just happy she can embarrass me longer.”

The two shared a chuckle at that. Then Raf’s face turned almost serious, yet it was still relaxed as he looked Casey in the eyes. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in his intense gaze and the way his eyes flicked to her lips. The energy between them became charged and Casey gave a small smile as she blushed lightly.

“You know. This isn’t just any tree. It’s the one I claimed would be where I start a part of my life I’m sure about.”

“That seems.. pretty cryptic Raf.”

“I suppose it does. What I mean is. When I was younger. I told myself when I find the person I believe is THE one. My true love. I’d bring them here, to this spot and we’d... well. Why don’t I just show you.”

He leaned in towards her, Casey’s heart starting to beat in her chest so hard she swore it was about to fly out as he cupped the back of her head and closed his eyes bringing his lips to her own. She felt her eyes close slowly as she started kissing his back. But this wasn’t a hot kiss. This was like one of those kisses in the movies. It was slow, patient, full of love and care. As he pulled away from the kiss, Casey opened her eyes slowly, looking up at him to see that he was blushing too.

“Wow.” She whispered, in complete awe.

“Yeah. Wow.” He agreed as he bit his lip, looking down shyly.

Casey pecked his cheek. “By the way.. whatever it was you ate a little while ago. It’s delicious.”

Raf chuckled at her comment shaking his head. Amusement dancing in his eyes.

“I just kissed you and you give my grandma the compliment.” He retorted with a playful and innocent smirk.

“Oh the kiss was great. Twelve out of ten, would 100% do it again.”

“You would?”

“For the rest of my life, Aveiro.”

“That’s a bold claim, Valentine.”

“You like it.”

“I can’t say that you’re wrong.”

“That’s because I’m not.” She said with a cocky grin. Rafael smiled at her before leaning in to share another kiss.

They stayed under that tree until the sun started to set, when they stood up Raf held out his hand with a questioning look. Casey smiled and took it, walking back to his grandma’s house. They talked some more on the way back and when they walked through the front door they were greeted with a delicious smell.

“Something smells good, vovo.” Rafael smiled as the two of them entered the kitchen, and he walked over, giving his grandma a kiss on the cheek.

“I’m making your favourite.” She replied happily. “Will the beautiful Dr. Valentine be joining us?”

Rafael looked at Casey who looked back at him with a shrug.

“I think she needs to get home. Her roommates are probably worried about her.”

The two turned to Casey as a scream escaped her mouth.

“Casey?” Raf questioned, concern in his voice.

“I left my phone here. I have 12 missed calls from Sienna, 5 from Jackie, 3 from Ethan, 8 from Elijah, 10 from Aurora, and... 25 from Bryce?! Oh good Lord there’s 165 messages in the group chat as well...” Casey sat down, looking pale and weak again.

Turning to his grandma, Rafael asked if she could watch over Casey for a minute and headed to the landline phone, dialing the number for Casey’s apartment. A frantic Elijah picked up.

“Rafael! Have you seen Ca-”

“Elijah! Calm down. Casey’s fine. She’s been with me pretty much all day. We’ve been in the park and she left her phone behind. She wasn’t ignoring you all intentionally. We were just spending some quality time together.” He explained, hearing a collective sigh of relief from people on the other end of the line as Elijah told them Casey’s fine.

“Quality time?”

“Yeah. We um.. We were enjoying each other’s company without the presence of phones.”

“Ahhhh. I see. Aveiro was making moves at last.”

“I was not. I merely... showed her around my neighborhood and sat in a park with her.” He retorted trying to throw Elijah off the trail.

“Uh-huh. We all know what happens in parks buddy.” Elijah teased.

“You guys are insufferable!” Raf exclaimed with a small laugh.

“Rafael honey. Dinner is almost ready. Come and set the table.” His grandma called from the kitchen

“Look. I’ve gotta go. But Casey’s safe. She’s okay. And if she doesn’t come home to night, she’ll be here. So stop worrying.”

“Mmm-hm. Have fun Raf.” Elijah commented slyly and then hung up. Rafael set the phone down and walked back into the kitchen looking a little dazed.

“Are you okay?” Casey asked

“I’m fine. Our friends are just very dirty minded and think we were doing unspeakable things in the park.”

“Oh no. Not their minds wandering again!”

“Yup.”

Casey groaned and hit her head on the table by accident as she sagged down.

“Ouch.” She said with a laugh, rubbing the spot where she hit.

That night Casey stayed and enjoyed a lovely meal with Raf and his grandma. It was dark by the time they had finished and cleared everything away. Casey asked if she could stay the night, not wanting to go out in the dark and home by herself. Deep down, the truth was that she didn’t want to go home to the apartment, and have to face another night of sleeping alone in silence, when the voices struck the most in the deafening silence of night. She showered and put on her last pair of clean pyjamas and laid down next to Rafael in his bed.

“I’ll try to make it to the couch before I fall asleep. I promise.”

“What if I don’t want you to?” he mumbled, turning onto his side, wrapping one of his muscular arms around her waist, pulling her close.

“I don’t think your grandma would be pleased if she found me here come the morning.”

“She’s nicer than that. She wouldn’t whoop my ass you know.”

“I know. She seems really lovely, but I wouldn’t want to get you in any type of trouble.”

“You know. Somehow I don’t think you could. Vovo loves you. I love you. An-”

Raf froze blushing as he realized he just said those three words. And so naturally too. Casey smiled at him softly and played with his hair.

“You don’t have to say it back.” He defended. “You can say it when you’re ready.”

“And what if I’m ready now?”

“Then... I wouldn’t stop you but, don’t feel like you have to say it just because.”

Casey chuckled at his cuteness and pulled his head to her chest, hugging him tightly.

“I love you too Raf. I think I have since that first time I saw you.”

“The feeling is very much mutual.”

They chuckled and settled down together, looking through all of Rafael’s old school books until they fell asleep, heads resting on each other. When His grandma came in to tell him to turn his light off, she smiled at the scene of books in front of them as Rafael snored softly, still loosely holding a book. She carefully moved the books, but still managed to stir them awake.

“Vovo. We weren’t-”

“Shh, it’s alright my boy. Just go back to sleep.”

“I should go to the-” Casey started speaking quietly

“No, no. I don’t wish for you to stumble.”

Casey laid back down and Raf wrapped his arm around her. His grandma tucking them in snuggly and giving her grandson, a kiss on the forehead.

“I have that ring. For when you’re ready.” She whispered in his ear.

He gave a soft smile in response as he fell back into a deep sleep, snoring softly once again.

[wicked-game-black-butler]

The Heart of the Sea pt. 2

June 10, 1922

The lantern room was filled with the warm, golden glow of the late afternoon sun. It bore down on Bard’s face, tiny beads of sweat forming on his nose as he squinted, his attention darting between the brass encased gauges and his log while he recorded the invaluable data. Outside his glass and steel cage, a pair of seagulls bickered noisily over a piece of bread on the catwalk, a series of metallic scrapes and clangs of their skuffle echoing in the otherwise silent room. It set Bard’s teeth on edge.

He growled, ledger dwindling to an illegible scrawl in his haste to finish, before slamming the pencil beside the thick book and stomping over to the metal door. Groaning in objection underneath Bard’s merciless grip, it opened with a bang. 

“Piss off!” he shouted, waving his arms exaggeratedly as he charged at the offending birds.

They squawked, immediately taking flight when he approached, and circled in the sky above him just to taunt him before setting off toward the sea. 

“Stupid birds,” he mumbled, kicking the forgotten scrap of bread off the ledge.

Leaning back against one of the connecting steel beams, he plucked a cigarette from behind his ear and lit it with a flourish of his lighter. He closed it, the lid giving a ringing click before he slipped it back into the pocket of his uniform jacket. Billowing wisps of smoke poured from his mouth as he sighed, a mournful smile on his lips, light blue gaze trained on the glittering horizon. It was funny, he thought, taking another drag, he’d never intended on taking up the habit. Hadn’t been tempted by them in the past--before the war. His left shoulder ached in remembrance, though it was nothing compared to the gaping emptiness in his chest. Yes, there were a lot of things that happened which he hadn’t intended. War was funny like that. 

He stood abruptly upright, coughing in a feeble attempt to seal off the swelling emotions that threatened to seep to the surface. He needed a distraction. Turning back toward the lantern room, he glanced down at his wristwatch, relief washing over him when he realized it was only half past seven. That was plenty of time. He had an hour before the lantern needed to be lit.

His hurried footsteps echoed off the brick walls of the spiraling staircase as he descended the great tower, only pausing when he snagged the stiff navy blue hat from the hook he had installed next to the entrance. He hated the thing, but he was a lighthouse keeper and people expected him to look the part. 

Upon exiting, he took one last drag from his gasper, extinguishing the still smoking stub against the heel of his shoe before flicking it into an empty clay pot he kept by the entryway for that express purpose and ran his fingers through his hair before donning his cap. Deeply breathing in the sweet salt air, he closed his eyes, relishing in the slight relief it gave to the unsettling irritation that had ensconced itself in his gut. He sighed and opened his eyes before stepping out from the shade of the lighthouse, his feet subconsciously leading him to the one place that would ease his agitation--the beach.

He didn’t know what had gotten into him. He’d been out of sorts all week. Since that stormy night, to be exact. And, though he’d not heard the mysterious hum since, the urge it bore remained, clawing at his insides like a rusty hook. An all-consuming, persistent yearning. 

Torturous as it was, Bard was secretly grateful for its presence. Otherwise, he would’ve thought he was going quite mad. There had been enough doubt that plagued his mind about that night. Even now, when he thought back on it, the memory was hazy and surreal, like a dream. Had it not been for the uncomfortable vestige the encounter had left with him, he would have chalked it all up to that, just a vivid nighttime vision. And the man he had met no more than a mere fantasy.

An image of the man flashed in Bard’s mind--brilliant eyes sparking, his plump lips curved in a smile while his soaked-through clothes sumptuously outlined his deliciously sculpted form--and he froze, heart fluttering at the memory. If he were fully honest with himself, the stranger was the reason he ventured down to the beach every day, combing miles of the shoreline. All for the ludicrous hope that he might catch a glimpse of the onyx-haired mystery. He had even asked around a few of the local hotels, thinking perhaps he might’ve been a tourist, but every time he left disappointed. 

It was silly, someone his age chasing a spectre like he was some lovestruck schoolboy. But he couldn’t--no, wouldn’t stop. For too long he had been empty, a husk of a man, devoid of feeling and purpose. But this...this sparked something in him, rekindled the dying embers of his soul with the whispering promise that he might have a chance at being something more than how the war had left him. And he wasn’t willing to give that up.

The breeze was gentle, the rolling of the lulling tide rhythmic and peaceful when he stepped foot on the beach. Gulls flew overhead, crying as they glided just above the surface of the water, dodging the few kites they encountered along their way. Sandpipers darted this way and that, frantically pecking away at the wet sand for food before fleeing the next oncoming wave. Along the shore, the white sand was littered with groups of people, tourist and local alike, who had come to enjoy the remaining sunlight before returning home. Children laughed and squealed as they ran about while their parents sat underneath the shelter of an umbrella, content to watch from afar, most likely thankful for a moment to sit undisturbed. Young couples walked arm in arm, casting wary glances behind them, hoping no one would catch them while they attempted to inconspicuously slip away to the shelter of Lover’s Cove. Years of attentive care had allowed him to create a place of safety, of refuge for any who came here. And, on any other day, such a scene might have brought Bard some sense of satisfaction, but not today.

He gave a brief smile, waving in passing to Mr. and Mrs. Midford, who sat beneath a large parasol while their daughter, Lizzie, kept trying to get her friend, Sieglinde’s, attention so she could see the beautiful seashell necklace she had strung together. The other young woman paid her no mind, too consumed with a chemistry book to be bothered. Bard snorted, shaking his head as Lizzie dejectedly bemoaned something to the effect of ‘If I had known you were going to have your nose buried in books all day, I wouldn’t have invited you to stay with us,’ and set off toward what had quickly become a familiar haunt, where he had first seen him.

He nodded, tipping his cap to those who greeted him along the way, and muttered a hurried “hello” as he passed. He even paused long enough to give a visiting couple directions to the Noah’s Ark pub. And though none of those interactions took any time at all, they made him more anxious, more desperate to break free, like they were taking up time he didn’t have to give. Even his steps felt sluggish, like his shoes were weighed down with sand. 

Cresting one of the rolling hills of the shore, a doubting voice nagged, not for the first time today, what are you doing? Did he really think this was going to change the reality of the way things were? Was he so deprived of real human connection that he was willing to scour the coastline to seek the company of a man he’d not even had a legitimate conversation with?

Growling to himself, Bard shoved those thoughts aside. Maybe he was right to doubt, to question the soundness of his thinking. But there was a stronger pull, as sure as instinct, which told him this time would be different. He had to give it a try, at least. Besides, it couldn’t hurt, could it?

He was so consumed by his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed it at first, the steady ebbing of the tension from his limbs, the slowing of the clawing. It wasn’t until his steps had stopped of their own accord that he looked up, heart thundering in his chest when his gaze rested on him.

He was a vision in white. The well-tailored cream suit fit his athletic frame like a glove, accentuating every angle, every curve in such a way that made Bard’s mouth water, the evening sunlight doing his visage more justice than lantern light could. His ivory skin glowed with the molten light as he looked over the glistening sea toward the approaching sunset, the same light gilding his onyx locks and catching entrancingly in his mahogany gaze. 

“Why, hello.” 

Bard froze, his brain short circuiting at the greeting, the man’s dulcet tone effectively erasing any coherent thought from his mind. Fuck! he thought, swallowing dryly, cotton-mouthed as the man turned to face him. Fuck! For all the time he had spent thinking back on their last encounter, Bard had never considered what he would say if he did see him again.

The man’s brows furrowed slightly at his silence and cocked his head in question, a subtly amused smile ghosting his lips. “You seem familiar. Have we met before?”

“Yeah,” Bard stammered once he found his voice and cleared his throat, doing his best to flash a confident smile, “I’m the bloke who saved you from gettin’ swept away last week. Don’t know why you thought it was a good idea to come down here in the middle of the storm.”

Bard wanted to slap himself. That was what he was opening with? 

To his relief, the man didn’t seem put off by his blunt introduction. Rather, he chuckled, his smile widening before taking a step forward. “Ah, yes, I remember now,” he said, his tone light with recognition, voice dripping like honey, “I hoped I would see you again so I could thank you properly.”

Bard could only blink, his stomach clenching with anticipation at the promise of the stranger’s words.

The man glanced down, coming to stand within arm’s length of the lighthouse keeper, his cream-hued loafers tracing aimless shapes in the sand, while continuing, “You’ll have to forgive my foolish curiosity. My work keeps me confined to the open sea and its depths most days, so I was intrigued by the possibility of seeing a storm from land.”

“Well, I can’t say that I blame ya,” Bard answered, clapping a hand down on the man’s shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze when their gazes met, “It’s dangerous, but it’s quite a sight.”

A strange, knowing look flickered in the man’s eyes, simply answering, “Indeed.”

At that, Bard lowered his hand, trailing along the soft sleeve of the man’s suit jacket. His fingers twitched when his arm came to rest by his side once more, a yearning ache in his chest in the absence of contact.

“Actually,” the man continued, “I’m new to the area. Do you happen to have time to give me a little tour?”

Bard mustered all his self control to hold his tongue when the man flashed him a breathtaking grin. Everything in him screamed to accept. However, one glance down at his wristwatch had him swearing beneath his breath.

“Is something the matter?”

Bard looked up to find the man staring curiously down at his watch. “Uh, yeah. Sorry, but I’m actually late for my shift. I can ring a friend of mine to see if he could take you instead, if you’d like.”

The man cast his gaze toward the waves, pouting ever so slightly before turning to look at Bard again. Smiling now as if in apology, he took another step toward him, rapidly closing the distance between them.

“That won’t be necessary; I can wait. After all, it was your company I desired for that adventure.” He paused, gaze never leaving Bard’s as he reached out and brushed his fingers over the buttons of Bard’s jacket, his voice dipping an octave lower, the sound making Bard’s cock twitch. “Surely you can’t begrudge me for wanting to spend a few hours in the presence of such a handsome man.”

Bard’s cheeks warmed at the unexpected turn, his heart fluttering, his resolve quickly crumbling beneath the intensity of the stranger’s gaze and the luring temptation of his words.

“Um, I could show you round tomorrow,” he offered, “Town’s not that big, so it won’t take all that long. Meet here ‘bout five?”

“Sounds excellent. I look forward to it, Mister…?”

“Oh!” Bard gasped, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, extending the other to the man in belated greeting, “Name’s Baldroy, but you can call me Bard. Everyone else does.”

“Hmmm,” the man hummed, another smile lighting his face before clasping Bard’s offered hand, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bard.”

“No need for ‘mister.’ Bard’s just fine.” 

“Very well, Bard.” 

He sighed, the sound just short of a groan, cock growing firm as his name fell from those full lips a second time. Though it had been uttered in simple conversation, there was something about it that seemed forbidden. Sinful. Enticing. And he would do anything to hear it again.

If the man had noticed how utterly disarmed he was, it didn’t show. Instead he gave Bard’s hand a gentle squeeze with his long, slender fingers and added, “I am Sebastian.”

He cast a checking glace around them before drawing Bard’s hand up in a fluid motion. Bard gave a shuddering breath, skin tingling in the wake of the feeling of Sebastian’s soft, warm lips against the back of his hand. Mahogany met sky blue. The air thickened with tense promise, their hands remaining clasped as they lowered and he added a second time, “Sebastian Michaelis.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Part two of seven

Part one here

Another huge thank you to @plague-of-insomnia for beta-ing this chapter! You’re such a joy to work with and you’ve helped me learn so much. 

[aion-rsa]

Brooklyn Nine-Nine’s Funniest Guest Cast Characters

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Warning: contains Brooklyn Nine-Nine spoilers.

Brooklyn Nine Nine is one of the funniest sitcoms around thanks to its fantastic ensemble cast and just-broad-enough humour blended with almost-realistic cop show elements. But that great regular cast are supported by an equally brilliant array of recurring characters and guest stars. In this list, we’re celebrating the funniest of the show’s less often-seen characters, those guest appearances who’ve turned up once or twice to inject a fresh burst of comic energy into the show.

Note that we’re not counting regular recurring characters like Adrian Pimento, Madeline Wuntch, or Kevin Cozner, aka Mr Raymond Holt. If they turn up more than once a year, or in more than three episodes in one season, they’re off the list.

12. Adam Sandler, played by himself in Operation: Broken Feather, Season 1, Episode 15

Adam Sandler’s appearance as himself in Season One is beautifully self-deprecating as well as funny. His deadpan delivery of “I’m a serious person” is hilarious in just the right way – of course the real Sandler is, presumably, as serious and as complex as anyone else, but he knows his own public persona and just how to play on it in the right way to raise a different kind of laugh. The interest in antiquities, the planned film about the Russian Revolution, it’s all funny – and somewhat undercut, even more amusingly, by his taunting of Jake straight afterwards. The whole scene did help to flush out a criminal though, so it wasn’t a total loss for Jake.

Funniest moment: Admitting his “serious” Russian Revolution film features Kevin James as Trotsky, and a wife who doesn’t wear a bra through the whole film.

11. Geoffrey Hoytsman, played by Chris Parnell in two episodes in Season 2

When Jake’s lawyer girlfriend Sophia uses her boss as a transparent excuse to break up with him (by going on ‘pause’), Jake wilfully misunderstands and decides that the boss is the key problem, so he sets off to make the man like him. It all goes horribly wrong when Jake finds Hoytsman snorting cocaine in the bathroom, which Hoytsman claims he was doing accidentally while screaming loudly that Jake is arresting him to the whole room of lawyers. Sophia somehow still ends up blaming Jake – probably because she simply wanted to break up with him in the first place – and Hoytsman ends up returning to take Jake hostage and quite seriously threaten his life later in the season. Parnell’s over-the-top performance as a character who is, of course, high for much of the time, is what really sells the character.

Funniest moment: Sniffing cocaine off his collar in the middle of the police precinct.

10. Jessica Day, played by Zooey Deschanel in The Night Shift, Season 4, Episode 4

Back in 2016, both New Girl and Brooklyn Nine Nine were active Fox sitcoms, so the network decided to do a crossover event in which the New Girl characters travelled to New York City and ran into the 99. Most of the crossover scenes actually ended up in the New Girl episode, but Zooey Deschanel’s character Jess Day did make a brief appearance in the otherwise stand-alone Brooklyn Nine Nine half of the crossover. While the New Girl episode provided a lot more context for Jess’s feelings about New York and her stress level surrounding Schmidt’s mom’s car and the soup she’s carrying, her appearance as an apparently slightly nutty woman who resists Jake’s attempts to commandeer the car is an entertaining interlude during the half hour.  

Funniest moment: Insisting that Jake’s oath to serve and protect applies to her soup.

9. Philip Davidson, played by Sterling K. Brown in The Box, Season 5, Episode 14

If this were a list of the show’s ‘best’ guest characters, rather than ‘funniest’, the top ranked would surely be Philip Davidson, played by Sterling K. Brown. ‘The Box’ is a tight, taught bottle episode that takes full advantage of Brooklyn Nine Nine’s hybrid status as both sitcom and cop show, and Brown’s Davidson forms a strong third of a triangle in this three-header with Holt and Peralta. It’s a really strong performance, but given that he’s playing a tough-to-crack murder suspect, not really the funniest, exactly. Still, he gets a good few laughs when appropriate over the course of a really engaging half hour of comedy/cop show crossover.

Funniest moment: When Davidson finally cracks, he cracks hard – his confession is equal parts triumphant, cathartic, and hilarious.

8. Karen Haas, played by Maya Rudolph in Coral Palms Parts 1&2, Season 4, Episodes 1&2

Maya Rudolph has a good line going in slightly weary authority figures (see also: The Good Place). Handling Holt and Peralta while they’re in witness protection is not an easy job and her exasperation at Jake’s refusal to accept his situation is well played. Haas is really funny, though, when she starts bringing her own issues into her official duties, clearly trying to get permission to cheat on her husband from someone, anyone – and Holt is happy to oblige.

Funniest moment: Whoever it is she wants to sleep with is “really young” – something that clearly shouldn’t be funny, but the face Rudolph pulls as she says it is what sells it.

7. Lin-Manuel Miranda as David Santiago in The Golden Child, Season 6, Episode 9

Miranda is marvellously smarmy as Amy’s too-perfect brother, her demanding parents’ favourite, who snubs popular culture and shows off by saving people’s lives (including Amy’s own husband). Amy’s delighted reaction when he’s arrested for cocaine possession and deep disappointment when he turns out to be innocent are highlights, but the funniest scene by far is the dance-off between David and Amy, in which both comprehensively demonstrate that dancing is not among the Santiago family’s many strengths.

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Funniest moment: David thinks elbows should form a bigger part of a dance routine than they really should.

6. Frederick, played by Nick Offerman in Ava, Season 3, Episode 8

Any time we meet Captain Holt’s friends and family, many of whom share his stoic, Vulcan-like demeanour, it’s always hilarious. JK Simmons as his old friend Dillman very nearly made the list, but he was just pipped to the post by Ron Swanson – sorry, Nick Offerman – as Holt’s ex-boyfriend. There’s a lot of crossover between Parks and Recreation and Brooklyn Nine Nine among the cast and crew and Offerman isn’t even the only Parks & Rec alumnus to appear on this list, but he’s probably the one whose appearance most quickly calls to mind his earlier character. The idea that Holt’s ex-boyfriend is Ron F-ing Swanson is just genius. OK, Frederick lacks Swanson’s magnificent moustache (though he has a glorious beard) and he’s even more brusque and stand-off-ish, but he’s a perfect match for Holt, even more in their post-break-up mutual antagonism than we imagine they were in their relationship.

Funniest moment: His straight-faced insistence at the door that they have a “wooden-duck situation”.

5. Mark Devereaux, played by Nathan Fillion in Serve & Protect, Season 4, Episode 14

It’s always funny any time police characters in a cop show visit the set of a TV cop show, and for added meta humour, in this case the actor playing the fictional detective is played by an actor who works on a cop show (albeit as a non-cop character). Phew! That’s a lot of layers of meta. Nathan Fillion’s pompous star who apparently thinks playing a detective makes him a detective is very funny, and it gets better when it turns out that was a ruse to cover up his own petty criminal activity before he folds like wet paper. It’s just a shame we didn’t get to see more of him.

Funniest moment: Devereaux tries turning on the angry detective act from his show to cover up his own crime, only to be confronted with quite a lot more than a “shred” of evidence and fold immediately.

4. Eleanor Horstweil, played by Kathryn Hahn in Hostage Situation, Season 3, Episode 11

We heard a lot about Boyle’s ex-wife over the first couple of seasons, partly because Boyle was still living in her basement, hanging out with her new husband Hercules. We knew what sort of person Eleanor was when Boyle explained that he gets the beach house from December to February. When we finally meet her in the flesh, Kathryn Hahn does not disappoint – Eleanor is surely one of the most purely horrible characters we’ve seen on the show (and yes, we’re including all the murderers). She hits a 90-year-old priest with her car and then destroys Boyle’s frozen sperm, all with no apparent sense of guilt, and she largely gets away with it, too. But she does it all with a perfectly deadpan expression and carefree attitude, each horrifying act funnier that the last.

Funniest moment: She goes further than Jake ever thought she would when she “shoots a hostage” – i.e., throws some of Boyle’s sperm down the drain.

3. Seth Dozerman, played by Bill Hader in New Captain, Season 3, Episode 1

Bill Hader’s screentime on the show is relatively brief, but he is hilarious from start to finish, attacking the squad with every shouted command like he’s firing metaphorical bullets at them. It might actually have been really cool to see the squad try to deal with him as their Captain for more than one episode, with his extremely demanding requirements and very highly strung personality, but on the other hand, perhaps this is a joke that works better in small quantities. Any character whose dying words are “Tell my wife I love her work ethic” is probably a character better enjoyed for a shorter period of time. 

Funniest moment: Both heart attacks are very funny, but the first (non-fatal) one just pips it for the sheer suddenness of it.

2. Caleb, played by Tim Meadows in three episodes in Seasons 5 and 6

Jake is shocked to discover his only friend in maximum security prison is a cannibal (though he would prefer to be identified as a wood-worker), having assumed everyone in protective custody was a wrongly accused police officer. Caleb is surely Brooklyn Nine Nine’s best streak of really, really dark humour – not only did he murder and eat nine and a half people, they were small children too. Every reference he makes to his “nightmare” past is sickly hilarious, and gets worse and worse every time, including a reference to his “skin suit”. But he really does care for Jake, even if he still kind of wants to eat him. The sheer audacity of the black humour surrounding this character is fantastic and always funny.

Funniest moment: Caleb shows that he has a softer side when he saves Jake’s life – but he immediately deeply regrets it and would not do it again.

1. Doug Judy, played by Craig Robinson in multiple episodes (one episode or two-parter per year)

Yes, we carefully defined a recurring character as someone who is either in more than three episodes or who appears more than once a year specifically so that we could include Craig Robinson‘s Doug Judy. It’s our list and we make the rules. There’s something twistedly beautiful about Jake and Doug Judy’s tender but tense friendship, even in the early years when Judy is constantly double-crossing poor Jake. The two of them have perfect comic chemistry, and each running gag in their friendship, especially their fondness for swaggering out in a new outfit or disguise, just gets funnier and funnier. Long may Doug Judy continue to turn up roughly once every twelve months to harass his long suffering best friend.

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Funniest moment: Having escaped yet again, Doug Judy leaves Jake a pre-recorded message in a karaoke booth – complete with a full hour of pre-recorded singing for Jake to duet with.

The post Brooklyn Nine-Nine’s Funniest Guest Cast Characters appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3kZOKSD

[starshipacademy]

A sad Spayonder alternative during the Robot Wars (pt 1??? maybe)

They didn’t know when exactly they got hit...or when the blood began to seep through their jacket. All Specs knew was that they had to keep on moving. Keep on following Krayonder.

Keep going.

Keep going.

Keep going.

And they did. Until they weren’t. Their legs gave out, their heart pounded in their ears. They were on the ground, eyes darting around helplessly for something that would help them. Anything. The pounding of their own heart trying to keep them alive steadily grew louder. Louder. Louder. Louder. Loud-

Sudden contact and a desperately harsh whisper tore Specs from their panic and brought their attention instead to the reason they were so intent on remaining alive.

Krayonder.

They’d promised him that they’d get out of this alive. Both of them. They were both far too young to die in some war. No, giving up and dying was far too easy and they were never known for taking the easy route. Besides, they’d told Krayonder, who’d keep Junior in his place if we died in this stupid robot war?

They winced as Krayonder attempted to lift them, a raggedy breath escaping their lips as they clutches their abdomen. A direct and possibly lethal shot. One that was already beginning to make their legs go numb. One that, if not treated properly soon, would kill them in less than an hour. One that would leave Krayonder all on his own if the two of them weren’t careful.

“Oh, c’mon, man...we gotta get you a medic. You think you can hold on for a little bit? I heard some troops back the way we came and-“

“K...Krayonder- Kray, you have to leave me here..”

“What? No way! I’m not just leaving you here!”

There it was. The panicked look, the hurt. They didn’t want him to hurt.

“Just...” Specs drew in another shaky breath, blood beginning to pour from their lips and causing them to cough. “...just g-go get the med-med-medics...leave me huh-here.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you.” Krayonder insisted, adjusting ever so slightly so he could easily carry Specs and starting on his way back towards where they’d just come from as tears began to form in his eyes. “They’ll patch you up real good and...and then we’ll get sent back to the academy and you’ll get to keep doing your nerd shit and I’ll try to be more bearable and...and...”

“Hey, look at me-“

Their voice was barely above a whisper now. They were fairly certain that this was it for them. They needed to make these last minutes count. Once they were sure Krayonder was focused on them, they began those last words they’d so carefully planned out.

“I...I want to st-star-start this off by suh-saying..” A wince, “I love you. I all-always have. Even-even when I said you a-a-annoyed the s-“ A groan escaped them, followed by more blood and a whimper from Krayonder. “You kn...know. Y-you are one of the...the br-bra-bravest people I’ve ev-ver met-“

“Specs, no...” Krayonder whispered out, pressing a kiss to their forehead. “No no no no...we’re going to get out of this..”

“Y...you will.” Specs managed to nod weakly, gasping for air as they began to feel their life fading off into nothingness. “I...I’m..” Breathing was such a struggle. Such an unnecessary struggle. “I’m so...so so hap-py that I guh-guh-got to kn...know you.”

“Jude, I love you..” Krayonder mumbled brokenly, tears beginning to flow as he walked faster, “D-don’t leave me. Don’t leave me now...please, please please. You can’t..anyone else but you...you’re my world. My..”

“Starshine-“ Specs finished with the weakest, but most loving smile he’d ever seen.

In the next moment, their eyes seemed to dim and their glasses fell askew.

Krayonder shook his head quickly and broke into a full sprint, crying out for a medic. He needed a medic. His whole life was slipping away. They needed help. He needed help. Didn’t anyone hear him? Didn’t anyone give a shit about the fact that the love of his life was dying? Fuck. They were dying.

By the time the medics took Jude from his arms, he could barely focus on much else other than his pounding heart and shaky hands. They were going to be okay. They had to be okay. They had technology for this. They...they had to save Specs. They had to. It was their job.

A nurse touching his arm dragged Krayonder back to reality.

“-and of course we can’t know for sure right now, but if everything works out Specht should be revived by the end of the week.”

“Can....can I sit with them..?”

His voice didn’t sound like his own.

He wasn’t himself.

Who was he without them?

“Of course, follow me.”

They were leading him, then helping him sit. Daniel’s eyes drifted over to Specs. His Specs. The love of his life who was swarmed with various doctors and nurses and surgeons all covering his best friend with different wires and tubing and trying to stitch up a hole in their stomach while debating whether the bullet wounds to their legs were too infected to fix.

Then there was him.

Daniel Krayonder.

Who was he without them?

Hollow cheekbones and panicked eyes watching as doctors attempted to become necromancers, bringing back what he’d felt drain away. Could a brilliant mind really be brought back? Could a joyful heart be jump started? Could a one of a kind personality be kindled again? He wasn’t exactly sure what answer he wanted. But for now, he’d wait.

Wait for them to return.

If they returned.

No.

When they returned.

[sunevial]

Annus Terribilis

Commissioned by @kylethewarrior, the following story follows the Part Timer long before the genetic experiments and his attempts to play god.

I have commissions open here.

TW: Death, Illness, Child Death. I also recommend that if you have any recent anxieties regarding COVID-19, please keep yourself safe and do not read this.

---

Eleven years ago, she had dragged him far outside the city center, driving out past fields of golden corn and wild forests to ‘somewhere special’ that wasn’t too terribly far away. That somewhere happened to be an old farmhouse, still structurally sound but in need of an awful lot of time and love before it would be up to code again. She laughed at the time, saying that anything worth doing was worth doing well and slow, and so the two of them got to work. Or, well, she got to work, and he stumbled along realizing that construction was much more difficult in practice than in theory. It was always her project, her wish for a place outside the bustling and busy city, and she turned it from a house to a home.

There was always someone over, be it friend or family or business partner or just a neighbor passing by, and he was nothing if not a good host. It was a lively place, and the birth of their daughter, the thing he was most proud of in all this world, made the celebrations only last longer. In her spare time, they, she, Eveline, continued improving the place: lightning fast internet, holo-projectors for the walls and table, hard-light molded into bridges and fences, a virtual reality playspace for their daughter. Away from everything, this strange blend of archaic living and modern technology blended into something new, something beautiful. 

It was meant to last.

It was never meant to be this quiet.

“Hey kitty Cat, look at me,” he said, voice low and comforting as he wrung out a washcloth. It was the one with the dog print, the one she had picked out at last summer’s fair, the one she always used to wash her face before bed. Ever so gently, he set it over his daughter’s forehead, trying not to notice her burning red cheeks or the mound of quilts over her shaking body. “You’re gonna be alright, just keep looking at me.”

Slowly, painfully, wearily, she opened her eyes. Usually so cheerful and so inquisitive and so full of childlike innocence, they were heavy, dull, barely registering their surroundings. Clouded irises turned his way, looking up at him with an understanding someone this young should never have to consider. “Daddy…I’m cold,” she murmured, each word seemingly forced out of her lungs.

“I know, I know, I’ll turn up the heat soon,” he said, running a hand down the top of her head.

Two months ago, Catherine had come home from school with a fever, complaining of chills and a terrible dizziness. They kept her in bed for a couple of days, watching as medicines failed and tests for various diseases came back negative, the doctors quietly informing them that they had matched the genome of this disease to everything they had in the database and finding not a single match. It evaded all attempts at classification, exhibiting no real similarities to a known virus or a bacteria or a fungi. Discouraged with the doctors and geneticists, he took a strain to his own home lab and began work, spending hours looking through microscopes and sequencing DNA until he came to the same sobering conclusion.

If there was an easy and fast way to treat this, it was beyond science's current capabilities. They had been into deep space, mastered light speed travel, eradicated poverty and scurvy and food shortages, and they couldn’t figure out something to properly kill off a sequence of random chemicals.

He would give anything, anything at all for a cure to this damned disease that had stolen his daughter’s smile, her beautifully creative mind, her ability to walk and sing and play with her friends in the gardens behind the house. She should be in school, learning about the wonders of humanity and what they had accomplished in times of great peace, finding love kind of gross but bugs cool. She should be getting into so much trouble, trouble that he had to condone as her father, but he was secretly so proud of her attempts to create a Mentos and Coke geyser in the bathroom sinks.

They had taken her home from the hospital two days ago.

“Daddy…I’m scared…” she whispered, eyes drifting back to the stars painted on the ceiling.

“What’s got you scared?” he asked, grabbing a glass of water with a curly straw and setting it to her lips. 

She didn’t take a sip. She hadn’t all day. “I’m…” Coughs wracked her battered body. “I’m…not going to see you again.”

He quickly set the glass aside, kneeling down until they were at the same level, hand never leaving the top of her head. “Now, don’t say that, kitty, you’re going to be just fine, the doctors are working hard to find a way to make you better. You just gotta keep fighting for a little longer, you hear me?”

Another round of coughs, this one drier than the last. “Daddy…you’re a bad…liar…” she murmured, eyes fluttering faster and faster, voice dropping down until there was hardly more than a shakey breath. “I’m…I’m scared…”

He leaned in closer, smoothing away her shining hair, hair that she had gotten dyed a beautiful shade of red, hair that he was initially against but now would give anything to be mad at something as silly as her hair color. “Kitty Cat, come on, look at me, eyes up.”

She met his for just a moment, a defiant moment of fire and hope and desire and such a deep, dark fear that he couldn’t save her from, before they fluttered close.

Her fever, finally, went down.

How long he knelt there, one hand on her too-cool head, other clutching her galaxy-print bedsheets, he couldn’t tell. Tears streamed down his face, silent and furious and hoping that this wasn’t real, that it was all just a cruel nightmare or a simulation or some stress induced hallucination, and that all was just some cruel game played by someone who didn’t value life for its own sake. 

But that was impossible.

He was a man of science, and he had to believe what his observations showed.

Sliding the washcloth over his daughter's eyes, he slowly got to his feet and methodically made his way over to the next room, each step echoing down the wooden walls Eveline insisted on installing, each step muffled by rugs she had bought from far corners of the world and set down to keep Catherine and her friends from getting too hurt if they fell. The walls were lined with picture frames of happier times; the wedding and honeymoon, learning to walk, riding first a bike then a hoverboard, science fairs and talent shows, festivals and picnics and sports games. 

Between them all was a holo surface, detailing all the work he and Eveline had done trying to fight an enemy they couldn’t see. While he had dove headfirst into research, pouring days into a frenzy of sleep deprived desperation, she had never left her daughter’s side, doing everything in her power to keep her spirits up and the grim reality of the situation at bay. Up until then, the doctors had assumed that transmission was going to be rare and difficult, not requiring protective gear that would’ve made Catherine all the more scared of her situation.

When he emerged with only bad news, he found Eveline propped up in a chair, face flushed and eyes distant. She was so strong, so brilliant, so determined, but their first date had ended with him rushing her to the emergency room. They had laughed it off after the fact, because why would either of them be concerned about asthma? It was barely more inconvenient than poor eyesight these days, a problem of the past that had been thoroughly managed with reduced air pollution and specialized medication.  

Unlike Catherine, this disease ended up in his wife’s lungs. 

It was even less time before she was bedridden.

He hesitantly opened the door, quietly walking to his wife’s bedside and kneeling down next to her sleeping form. Face as red as their daughter’s, she was hooked up to oxygen, a last ditch effort to give her a couple more days when everyone knew that the inevitable would only be delayed, not stopped. A quick glance to her oxygen levels on a nearby monitor dropped his heart down even further. With a heavy heart and trembling limbs, he slipped his hand under the covers until he found hers, ring still wrapped around her finger. It wasn’t their wedding ring, no, that had been lost in a river a couple of years back when they went kayaking and it slipped off when their barely watertight vessel overturned. When the panic died off, they went to a new jeweler and got something new, a beautiful golden band with a diamond flanked on both sides with small rubies.

“Honey…” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“I’m here, sweetie, I’m here,” he said, scrambling up so they were face to face, her face, the face of the woman he fell in love with on sight and had never stopped loving since. 

She smiled weakly, each movement clearly bringing her more pain. “You…shouldn’t be here…with Catherine,” she muttered, each word sending her into a coughing fit more painful than the last.

“Hey, you shouldn’t be talking, you know that,” he said, squeezing her hand and trying to put on the gentlest smile he could manage. “She’s just resting.” 

The squeeze was not returned, her eyes instead meeting his and her face falling with a sorrow he had only seen a handful of times before. When her father died of cancer, when they realized there would be no more children, when the doctors said there was nothing else to be done. She was a radiant woman, slow to sorrow and slower to anger, and each time he saw either of them, his heart broke a little further. “You’re…such a bad…liar,” she said, tears spilling from the corners of her eyes. 

“I…I know…I’m so…so sorry…” he muttered, squeezing his eyes tight to keep the tears from falling again, to stay strong for the one he loved, to not make her worry when she was in so much pain, but she was the strong one. She had always been the one to take what life gave and spit it back with a cold demeanor and a stoic face. In the past two months, he had shed more tears than she had in all the years he’d known her, and each time hurt even more knowing that her heart was so much stronger than his.

“Don’t…” Her body shook and her lungs heaved, wet and painful coughs that didn’t stop for almost a minute straight. “Don’t…worry about…me. I’m…the one…that should be…sorry.”

“You’ve never been sorry for anything, why start now?” he said with what little humor he could muster up, gently trying to wipe away her tears. 

Her smile was weak, her calloused hands that had built up this house with so much love and care now so fragile in his own. “I love you…so much…promise me…you’ll keep on…for me…for her… ”

Any semblance of strength broke with such a simple phrase, sobs choking in the back of his throat as he brought her hand to his forehead and held it tight, a twisted mirror of when he knelt down and asked to be hers through all the good and the bad that was yet to come, through sickness and health. Through all the good times, through all the bad, please to anyone who was listening let this not be how it all ends, let the until death not be so soon. “Sweetie, please…don’t do this…don’t leave me too…I can’t…”  

He held her hand as it went limp, as it went cold, as tortured sobs echoed through the otherwise silent house.   

[salaxarx]

Knights of the Jaded Veil | Lilizar

@licnbcrn

It happened every century or two. A rise in power, the possibility that Salazar could get what he’d always wanted, and then the stark reality that he’d have to shut everything down before the damage became irrefutable. And he fell for it every time like a child who’s been told his father had just gone to the market and would be home any minute now, though weeks have gone by. The Veil was formed from within Hogwarts, in his days before he’d left. Young allies that grew powerful and joined him as he recruited more and more more-than-able-bodied witches and wizards became his colleagues, his brothers and sisters, his confidants. Salazar felt The Veil was what the Houses of Hogwarts were originally meant to be, the true cornerstone that would not fail him. 

The Veil remained vigilant while staying unnoticed by the masses, pulling in magic users from around the world that showed the greatest potential—some nearly as powerful as Salazar himself, some with minds so brilliant they deserved to be crowned as nobility, others with hearts pure enough to keep the rest of them in check. At first, it’s purpose was selfish. Salazar felt he could do everything better than his old friends, and he was going to prove it. He would take the best of the best right out from under their noses and everyone else’s, and create the greatest set of witches and wizards this age had ever seen. But it became so much more than that. 

After Salazar’s fall within the halls he’d helped build from the ground up, after he’d soaked the courtyard cobblestones with the blood of the only man he’d ever had a right to call brother, things changed. The Veil became more than just revenge, it became an escape. Salazar was on the run for Godric’s murder, and without allies in the east and the eventual commandeering of Durmstang, Salazar wouldn’t have made it. It was isolated there in the cold eastern school that Salazar saw what truly had to be done to save his kind back home. Hogwarts wasn’t going to be enough, and in truth the four of them had always known that. The campus’ beginnings were rocky enough, now without him or Godric, the children wouldn’t be safe enough, let alone the entirety of wizarding kind. So Salazar gathered his brothers and sisters of The Veil, and after great, great hardship and trials, a peace treaty never meant to be honored was formed. The statute of secrecy was in it’s beginnings. Slowly, trials stopped and accusations were dying down. Salazar had aimed to allow the muggles to get comfortable and attack when they were at their most vulnerable, but it never happened.

Life got in the way. A lack of imminent threat allowed The Veil to work on other things, and one of those things was the secret to immortality. It became his obsession after an attempt on his life was made by an unknown assailant at the time, and it proved a quest that kept the true members of The Veil around. Loyalties were tested then, but the original members of The Veil all passed on and Salazar did not. He kept The Veil alive, constantly looking for new worthy members with each generation born. And it seemed with each generation, a new statute was being created and kept.

 The Veil gained notariety as time went on, and though knowledge Salazar’s immortality itself had died with the first generation, there was rumor within The Veil itself in current times that there was someone else pulling the strings. Salazar was not apparent in the general population of The Veil, only it’s highest ranking officials even knew of his existence. The last time he had been outed was when he’d had to step in a few decades ago between two of his most promising elites, Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald. thankfully cover-ups were possible, memory potions had been near perfected, and anyone who’d seen his face or heard his name were taken care of. The day he’d had to get rid of those two was one of the saddest, the sheer potential that had been wasted nearly broke the cold dead heart inside Salazar.

Time still went by. Rumors were silenced and The Veil went back to normal after it’s hand in the first recognized wizarding war. The fact that the war itself remained recognized to this day was living proof of the Veil’s first failure in centuries, but it didn’t take long for another chance to arise for The Veil to do what it did best, ensure the pure survival of wizarding kind no matter the cost. This time, this chance, it was personal again. Salazar had found someone that he’d never thought would be possible after so long—her heir. The last living breathing soul to share his true blood, and Salazar saw himself as prevailing. Salazar saw this as the second chance he was waiting for since the instigation of his immortality. Sure, Tom Riddle wasn’t the only heir Salazar had come across over the years, but he was the one with the most potential.

Tom would not be just another mess Salazar would eventually have to clean up. Salazar refused to believe it, refused to allow it. In truth, his own heir wasn’t the only blood Salazar had been searching for. Like any other time before this, another would rise to meet his chosen. It had happened as such decades ago with Dumbledore, who had proved to be the bands of Grindelwald’s existence and oh, how high Salazar’s hopes had been for the madman. He wouldn’t let it happen again. For centuries Salazar had searched for the one of his own that would finish what he started, and the one of Godric’s blood who would stand in his way.

“Lily Elizabeth Evans,”  The name rolled off his tongue as he addressed the first summons he’d written himself in centuries. This one was special. This summons was going to change The Veil as it was. He could feel possibility emanating off the parchment like an overwhelmingly bright aura. There was no doubt in his mind that the heir of Godric Gryffindor would be the brightest of his recruits this year. 

He watched until the owl carrying her summons became nothing but a speck in the distant sky. A riddle lay in it’s claws. What seemed like a piece of parchment blank aside from Lily’s name and an emerald hued drawing of a chess piece  knight was actually a map that when burnt would lead her deep into the Forbidden Forest. There she would be joined by the other recruits that managed to use the proper spell on it.

II

The night had finally come. Two weeks had gone by since the summonses had been sent out. Salazar stood cloaked inside the Forbidden Forest along with the Four Greeters, waiting for recruits to come one by one. The Greeters job was simple; when each recruit arrived they would be their final test. 

[straykidsramblings]

supermarket flowers. [what if]

seo changbin x fem!reader | alternative ending to supermarket flowers.

word count: 1716 words

genre: fluff, soft angst

summary: angels wear white.

Standing in front of a crowd of people that had all of their eyes on him was not what made Changbin nervous. The people who slowly walked in pairs down the aisle covered in a blanket of snow was not what made Changbin nervous. The quiet pause of the acoustic guitar that caused everyone in the room to stand up like a chain reaction was not what made Changbin nervous.

Felix stood at his left, smiling to himself as he shifted his stance. He nudged his friend’s arm lightly, earning a small jump from the man.

“Cold feet?”

Changbin scoffed, his nerves loosening ever so slightly at the childish provocation. “Never.”

Felix shrugged. “I can always take your place if you get scared.”

“In your dreams.”

The large brown doors standing across from Changbin at the end of the aisle cracked open. In the brilliant white light of the day, Changbin almost thought he had ascended into heaven.

That’s what she made him feel like every time she stepped into a room.

Felix cleared his throat one last time. “If you hurt her...” He didn’t have to finish his sentence.

Changbin couldn’t tear his eyes away from the door that slowly revealed the love of his life.

“I’ll accept any punishment that God sees fit,” Changbin promised, taking a sharp inhale. “Now, be quiet. You’re ruining her moment.”

The doors fully opened themselves, showcasing [name] [last name] in her full beauty, brilliantly dressed in white. In that moment, it was just the two of them. Hyunjin wasn’t by [name]’s side to walk her down the aisle; Felix wasn’t shuffling back to his place next to the other groomsmen. When Changbin finally met [name]’s [eye color] eyes, it felt like the moment when they had first met.

She truly resembled an angel in that moment, then and now.

[name] tried to suppress her smile as she clutched Hyunjin’s arm. As everyone’s eyes landed on her and the women in the crowd tried their best to quietly whisper about her appearance, the music picked up. Changbin felt the tears well in his eyes as he watched her take slow steps towards him. 

After all of this time, she was about to become his for the rest of eternity. He was the one who would bring her happiness, the same kind of life-saving happiness that she gave him however many years ago.

The walk was tantalizingly slow, and, even as the hot tears silently cascaded down his cheeks, he couldn’t look away.

Happiness was finally within his grasp, and her name was about to be [name] Seo.

Hyunjin came to a stop before the officiant. Planting a soft kiss on [name]’s cheek, he gave her hand one last reassuring squeeze before walking to his rightful place as best man. The bride handed her [favorite flower] bouquet to her maid of honor, sharing a knowing smile between the two of them.

Changbin extended a hand to her which she graciously accepted. Stepping into her place across from him, [name] smiled softly. She brought her hand to his cheek and wiped away his tears. She may have laughed at him, but her own [eye color] eyes struggled to contain the teardrops of joy that threatened to spill.

Changbin held her hands in his own. Bringing them quickly to his lips, he kissed them softly, not caring about the hushed cooing from the crowd.

“I was made for loving you,” Changbin whispered to her.

In that moment, while she was in his hands, Changbin truly felt that all of the suffering of his life had been worth it. 

As long as she was his.

[name] threw her head back as she laughed, squeezing his hands a little tighter. “Vows come later, Bin.”

He smiled back at her before nodding to the officiant to let him proceed.

“Dearly beloved...”

Changbin couldn’t believe his eyes or his ears. The world was disappearing around him, the same way that it did when the two of them first met. Here she was, standing in front him, holding his hands gently, staring at him with beautiful [eye color] eyes soaked with tears. 

She truly was the love of his life.

He knew he should’ve been paying more attention, but he couldn’t stop trying to make her laugh. It seemed she knew him too well because she narrowed her eyes at him whenever he began to goof off. The ghost of a smile on her lips betrayed her as she bit her bottom lip. Changbin reciprocated the action, attempting to suppress any giggles of his that might ruin the ceremony. She’d be angry.

“The couple has prepared their own vows,” the officiant announced, glancing between the two. “Shall we begin with the gentleman?”

Changbin cleared his throat. He was about to reach for the notecard with his vow in his pocket, but he decided he didn’t need it. Having [name] standing in front of him in that beautiful white dress reminded him of all the words he needed.

He rubbed the outside of her hands gently with his thumb. A part of it was to reassure himself in front of the crowd that watched him intently. Seeing her reassuring smile was the small push he needed to move forward, and he knew that she would always be there for him.

“My sweet, beautiful angel,” he began. “When you graced me with your presence eight years ago, I honestly did not believe that this day would ever come. Eight years ago, you appeared to me, drowned in the lights of the city, and I sincerely thought I had entered heaven. Eight years ago, you saved a lonely boy who didn’t believe in the love of humanity. Eight years ago, you proved that boy wrong and inspired him to become the man that he is today. [name]... you truly are the reason I am alive today. You gave me love. You gave me hope. You gave me a home. I believe with all of my heart that you are my purpose for this life. I was made for loving you, and I promise to fulfill my duty as your husband for the rest of my life... as long as you’ll have me.”

The smirk on his face and the wink he sent to [name] had the crowd chuckling, and [name] threw her head back in laughter. Even Changbin’s flirtatious humor couldn’t stop two stray tears fall down her cheeks. Looking at the love of his life, Changbin slowly brought his hands to her cheeks, brushing away the tears with his thumbs.

[name] pursed her lips, sniffling before trying to recite her vow. She struggled, sniffling once more as a playful pout decorated her beautiful countenance. She hiccuped, “You’re supposed to be the crybaby out of the two of us.”

The people laughed again, and Changbin laughed with them, remembering all of the times that he had cried during their movie nights and even while just listening to music together. Taking a deep breath, [name] restarted.

“Changbin,” she said with a small laugh. “When we first met, you filled this hole in my heart that I never fully realized I had. The first time we touched, I felt something more than the typical movie sparks. It felt like I had finally come home. I knew, in that moment, that we were destined to be something. You’ve stood beside me through everything since the first day we met, even on days when I thought you would leave me. Now, I face the future, unsure of what it may hold, but confident that we are in this together. Changbin, you truly were nothing less than a gift to me back then, and you are nothing short of a miracle to me right now. I love you with all of my heart, and I promise to keep loving you from here on out now officially as your wife.”

Changbin swallowed the lump that had formed in this throat. “I love you too.”

The following words from the officiant flew over Changbin’s head as he stared deeply into his lover’s eyes. The next thing he registered was a small tug on his suit jacket and the laughter of the crowd. Changbin finally let go of the hands that he was planning on holding onto for the rest of his life.

“The rings, sir,” the officiant snickered.

Changbin grinned, thanking the young ring-bearer for his service as he took the wedding ring he had picked. He ruffled the top of the boy’s hair. “Thanks, bud.”

[name] let out a lighthearted scoff at Changbin’s actions, causing the boy to raise a brow.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Seo. I was distracted by your beauty.”

[name] held up the ring for Changbin. “I’m not Mrs. Seo just yet,” she teased.

Changbin snickered, his nose wrinkling as a small sign of amusement, but slid the ring on [name]’s finger without another word. [name] mimicked his actions shortly afterwards, sliding the ring up on Changbin’s left hand’s fourth finger. The next words were words that Changbin never wanted to forget.

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

That was all he needed. 

In one fell swoop, he stepped closer to her and captured her lips with his own. The crowd was cheering and clapping, but all that mattered to him was the way that their lips melded together like two were missing pieces of a puzzle that finally found each other.

If he was being honest, every kiss with her was like that.

He loved it.

Finally pulling away to look into her eyes, Changbin whispered under the hooting and hollering of the crowd, “I’ve been dying to do that.”

Expecting a retort, Changbin could only smile when she whispered back, “Me too.”

Filled with joy, Changbin lifted [name] off of her feet, causing both the crowd and the bride to burst out into laughter. [name] threw her arms around his neck, holding onto him as he walked down the white aisle. With the people throwing [favorite flower] petals at the two of them, it truly did seem like too good of a happy ending for Changbin, but he was so grateful.

“She’s all mine!”

[littlemissrainhoe]

Here’s my piece for the @knb10thannizine. A huge thanks to the mods who hosted this project. I had a great time working on this. I hope y’all enjoy this. ^^

-

Title: Immortal for a Limited Time [AO3 Link]

Summary:

We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know. - Lemony Snicket

Death champions no one. The same holds true for seven special people: bound by friendship, camaraderie and one great love for basketball.

Rating: General Audiences

Relationships: Generation of Miracles & Kagami Taiga

Warnings: Major Character Death 

-

Death champions no one.

It is but a simple truth, an eventual reality that one has to accept. Not even the greatest king nor the sneakiest thief could ever escape its clutches.

Yet somehow it still manages to elude even the most brilliant of us all. Its power of misdirection knows no bounds. Its presence lurks at the back of the mind, yet is not acknowledged until it manifests itself from what seems like nowhere and punches one in the gut.

The same holds true for seven special people: bound by friendship, camaraderie and one great love for basketball. They had such dreams, big ones—all of them including one another, despite tight lips and vehement denials. Though not outright, all seven were always in the periphery. They didn't have to say them, of course; they already knew—and nothing was going to stop them.

(But death does.)

.

.

.

 Akashi Seijuurou died at the hospital, surrounded by a plethora of sweet-smelling flowers that masked the scent of bleach and death.

He was found by a nurse, the look of absolute peace and satisfaction of a great man etched on his aged face. "It looked like he was coming home from a long journey," she would later describe to curious colleagues, perhaps embellishing her story a bit to sound more poetic.

At age ninety-two, he had accomplished far more than what his late father had. Right after finishing his Ph.D. with flying colors, he took over as CEO for his rapidly deteriorating father, proving that he is an Akashi through and through early on in his career. He continued to uphold the Akashi name, and even brought it to greater heights. He led the Akashi Corporation fearlessly and efficiently, turning it into a powerful empire that stands among the leading zaibatsus in the world.

Unlike his father who ruled with an iron fist, Seijuurou was known to be a compassionate and mindful leader; strategic and sharp, but never ruthless. He was loved and admired by all.

"My father was a great man," his eldest son said during his funeral, with a note of pride and sincerity that was missing during a similar speech done five decades ago. "If there is anyone in this world I aspire to be, it will always be him."

The media adored Seijuurou, going so far as releasing a special magazine in honor of the late Akashi, covering everything from his early childhood to his last days. His regimes as the student council president of both Teiko Middle School and Rakuzan High School did not go amiss, as well as his strong relationships with his family and friends over the years. Even his prowess on shogi was not overlooked, highlighting some of his more interesting plays.

In the eyes of many, he will be remembered as one of the most powerful and influential men in his time. However, to a certain few, he will forever be known as the invincible captain of the legendary Generation of Miracles.

 .

.

.

 Up to this day, the driver of the simple sedan would insistently say that he didn't see Kuroko Tetsuya, age twenty-nine, cross the road that dark and dreary night.

A man in his thirties, an ordinary salaryman. Family of three. Has been living in Tokyo for most of his life. Has no connection whatsoever with the victim. No malicious intent and solid alibi. After the collision, he immediately contacted an ambulance and attempted to resuscitate the bleeding man. He was later found by police officer Aomine Daiki, who happened to know the victim.

"I didn't see him! I swear I didn't!" would always be his answer, half-crazed from the accusations and growing guilt. The police had him checked for any signs of intoxication to find none. Even surrounding CCTVs would confirm that he did not speed a red light. Curiously, it was as if Kuroko Tetsuya was a phantom, an after-image in the rain, that even the cameras hardly picked him up until after the accident.

The doctors tried to revive him, but he passed away after a few hours.

It was but an unfortunate accident in the rain, but it took away a life nonetheless.

He was survived only by his grandmother.

 .

.

.

 As with most things in his life, Midorima Shintarou's death was predicted by Oha-Asa—or as much as fortune-telling can predict death and disaster.

Though relatively healthy at eighty-seven, when Oha-Asa came on with a particular medical warning for Cancers, Shintarou knew his time had come. Like a cat who recognized its end was near, Midorima Shintarou left his home after carefully saying goodbye to his family to purchase his lucky item of the day.

As the medics came to take away the venerable doctor who suffered a sudden heart attack in the middle of the department store, no one paid any mind to the rolling marker pen that fell out of the dying man’s hand.

 .

.

.

 Kise Ryouta did not so much die as he went missing.

At forty-two, he was one of the best pilots Hyperion Airlines had to offer. But when a freak incident took out both engines, his plane crashed into the ocean with only 17 survivors.

To this day, his body still hasn’t been found.

 .

.

.

 Murasakibara Atsushi found out he was dying of diabetes when he was thirty-four years old, which he pretty much expected. If anything, what surprised him was that it didn't come earlier. He never did get to control his eating habits; it only grew worse with age. He didn't continue playing basketball after college, focusing on his patisserie training in France, thus allowing his body to deteriorate with the lack of exercise.

Akashi conferred with his doctors every time he visited, and Atsushi knew he consistently asked even Midorima and various other specialists for a second opinion. Himuro constantly fussed over him like a mother—perhaps even more than his. They were very stubborn about all this.

But Atsushi was more stubborn.

"Muro-chin," he mumbled, attempting to get comfortable on the hospital bed he easily dwarfed. "You should go home. Ami-chin must be worried."

Himuro furrowed his brows. Had he always had that much wrinkles on his forehead? "Ami understands, Atsushi. I—I want to be here, okay? Don't worry about me."

He gave Atsushi that phony smile again—the one Muro-chin gave him whenever he tried not to show him what he really felt. Atsushi had seen it so many times, even more so in these past few months, and it’s still annoying. Atsushi wondered what Muro-chin would do if he punched him this time around.

Kaga-chin would probably get mad at him if he did. Better not then.

"Just go home, Muro-chin. You look like a ghost. Eat lots of cake. That would make you feel better."

Himuro chuckled. It was weak, but it was there. "That only works for you, Atsushi."

Atsushi only shrugged, as if saying, "So?"

There's that look again, but it was so fond and teary that he could only look away.

If there was anything Atsushi could pride himself in, it's the fact that he knew himself. Denying his feelings were one thing, but he knew his body—its wants, its needs, and its limits.

He knew he didn't have long. It was getting harder to breathe. The lub-dub in his chest was getting slower, heavier. His joints constantly ached, irritating like an itch he couldn't scratch.

Regretting his (admittedly) bad habits had no merits. For one thing, he never regretted eating what he did. (Though that wasabi-barbeque-pina colada-mix-flavored pudding was quite close.) Maybe he should've gone back to playing basketball, even from time to time, but he couldn't really bring himself to regret it. If anything, he regretted being in the mercy of nurses who refused to give him what he wanted to eat.

Even in the hospital, he kept requesting for his snacks, sometimes even going so far as rejecting his doses when they didn't comply. The nurses were quite exasperated with him. A man of such hulking stature—not to mention diabetic and dying—shouldn't be sulking about not getting his Maiubo.

"I promised Kaga-chin that I'd do the eating for him," he reasoned to a particularly irate head nurse.

But maybe, just maybe, his biggest regret was leaving his friends behind.

That's why he made sure to hand them snacks (smuggled in by Aka-chin) whenever they visited him—the most generous he'd ever been, really—as a simple thank you for always being there for him. He hoped that it could bring them the same kind of joy he got whenever he ate his favorite snacks.

In his funeral, his friends brought him baskets of pastries and snacks. They knew he would've appreciated those more than flowers.

 .

.

.

 Aomine Daiki wasn’t supposed to die at thirty-six, but when a perp got away from his bindings, he took the blow that was supposed to be for his partner. He died instantly.

Though he’s eternally grateful for Aomine Daiki, Tsuchiyama Kagami would wonder what made his chronically lazy and perverted senpai jump in to save him. They were just recently assigned together and based on his reputation at the station, despite being a brilliant officer, Aomine Daiki was not the type of person to play hero.

It was a question he would never get an answer to, but he would think of Aomine Daiki for the rest of his career.

 .

.

.

 Perhaps the hardest death to accept was Kagami Taiga's. Out of all of them, he was the first to go. Nineteen was too young, was it not? Everyone thought so as well.

A Modern-Day Hero, or so the papers said. The news about the fearless fireman who rushed into a burning house to save a seven-year old girl who was stuck inside. The girl made it out safely. Unfortunately, the young fireman did not: a light snuffed out too early.

"He’s a hero," the little girl's mother said in an interview, her eyes filled with tears as she held her daughter tightly in her arms. "I will be forever thankful to him for saving Hitoka-chan."

But awards and gratitude would not bring a dear friend back.

Of them all, it was Aomine who had the least control over his emotions, raging and yelling over his casket with the despair of the one left behind as Kise tried to hold him back through his tears.

He was the last of them to see him alive, just having finished a round of basketball a week before. It was jarring to see Kagami just laying unnaturally still, paler than he's ever seen him, in a tux that he was sure itched like hell had he still been able to feel.

It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.

Never again would they hear his voice, tinged with excitement and determination. Never again would they play the sport they love together. Never again would they see him soar.

"Why the hell did you have to go and be a hero, you dumbass?"

A lot of people came to visit his remains and paid their respects. His family all the way from America, the various friends he made throughout his stay in Japan, his colleagues from the fire station, his classmates at university and his teammates, the people he’d played basketball with, and the people who was inspired by his courage; so many people who hadn’t been in the same room for years, suddenly seeing each other again in what could only be a morbid reunion.

"Mere words cannot express how much I am indebted to Kagami Taiga," Akashi said during the eulogy. "He was my—no," he corrected himself. "He was our saving grace. His light never stopped shining bright, and even after all that has happened, not once did he stop sharing that light with us. Kindly, willingly... selflessly." Akashi glanced at the white coffin, his eyes full of emotion.

"Until the day we join him in the afterlife, we will miss him dearly."

[chasingthecosmos]

By Any Other Name

Fandom: Doctor Who Rating: T Pairing: The Doctor/Rose Tyler, Eleventh Doctor/Rose Tyler (The Doctor/Clara Oswald, Eleventh Doctor/Clara Oswald) Chapters: 15/26 Read on AO3 here.

“Rose Tyler was dying - or, at least, she was relatively certain that that’s what was happening …” A Season 7 AU where Rose returns to her home universe only to find that 100 years have passed and nothing is quite the way that she remembers it. She wakes up with a new body, a new life, and a new Doctor. What has the Bad Wolf gotten her into this time? The 50th Anniversary will be included in this story.

The Doctor parked the TARDIS on the sidewalk right outside of Clara's house, exactly where he had been the last time that he had come searching for her. Rose stepped out of his ship timidly, staring up at the simple building as though it were some sort of dangerous, terrifying thing.

"Oh, that's new," the Doctor muttered ominously from behind her.

"What's that?" Rose asked, looking back over her shoulder to see him leaning against the console with his arms crossed across his chest and an amused expression on his face.

"Oh, nothing," he replied breezily. "Just never seen you hesitated like that before. Honestly didn't even know that you had it in you." The Doctor pushed himself off of the console and uncrossed his arms as he lazily sauntered up to join her in the TARDIS doorway. "What's the matter, Rose Tyler?" he whispered conspiratorially. "Afraid of a little, old house?"

"I'm not afraid of anything," Rose replied stubbornly, leveling a glare on him that had no real ire to it. "Done a whole lifetime of domestics, me, I think I know my way around a simple house. I was just worried about you."

"Ah, considerate as always," the Doctor chuckled as he gently brushed past her and then narrowed his eyes on their current objective.

"I read up on the Maitland family before, when I was looking into Clara Oswald," the Doctor explained simply as he cautiously eyed both sides of the quiet, suburban street and took careful note of every detail. "Seems normal enough. George, Angie, and Artie - a basic, twenty-first century family. No idea how Clara fits into it, though."

"Well, let's go and find out, then, shall we?" Rose prompted, stretching her hand out into the space between them and wiggling her fingers tantalizingly in the Doctor's direction.

He grinned as he easily slipped his hand into hers and then dragged her quickly up to the front door. He paused awkwardly on the front stoop, however, as he shot her a nervous look out of the corner of his eye. "Have you got a key?" he asked curiously.

"Don't think so," Rose muttered after a moment of speculation. "Not on me, at least." She had taken very little with her from the house when she had originally left it in order to chase after the Doctor. She was relatively certain that she would have found a key by now if there were any keys to be found in the small bag that she had grabbed hastily on her way out.

"Do we ... knock?" the Doctor asked slowly, eyeing the closed door as though it were some new sort of alien species that he had never encountered before and couldn't quite decide if it was peaceful or hostile.

Rose shook her head at him and leaned forward to rap her knuckles against the mottled glass door as she flashed the Doctor a deeply sarcastic look. "How did you ever get on without me?" she asked teasingly.

"No idea," the Doctor chuckled good-naturedly. "Never quite caught on to the domestic approach, me."

"Oi!" Rose protested, but her argument was interrupted as the door opened and a tall, middle-aged man greeted them.

"Oh! Clara," the stranger muttered, staring out at the two of them with a healthy dose of confused concern written on his features. "You were gone a while this time. What have you been up to?" The man - George, if the Doctor's information was to be believed - flashed the Doctor a guarded glance as he added, "Is this the boyfriend that I've heard so much about?"

"Boyfriend?" Rose repeated questioningly at the same time that the Doctor muttered a startled, "Eh?" and instantly dropped her hand to reach up and nervously straighten his bowtie.

"I didn't believe Angie at first," George went on with a casual shrug. "You know how she likes to talk, sometimes. But I should have known it was the truth when Artie started in on it, too."

"Who told you about me?" the Doctor demanded, his expression getting dangerously close to the Oncoming Storm as he openly glared at the other man. "What have you heard? Tell me everything."

"Alright, now, hush, dear," Rose murmured soothingly, tugging on the Doctor's sleeve to catch his attention, but not breaking her gaze from George as she offered him a cheery smile. "Sorry about him," she muttered, rolling her eyes in the Doctor's direction. "He just doesn't get out much. Bit awkward in social situations. We were just in the neighborhood and thought we'd pop by for a visit! How've you been? Sorry I didn't get a chance to say goodbye before I left ..."

"No harm done," George assured her, waving dismissively with one hand and gesturing them forward into the house with the other. "I know how you like to disappear, though I have to admit that a note every now and then would make us worry much less."

"Right, sorry," Rose apologized sweetly as she grabbed the Doctor's arm and drug him across the threshold behind her. He was still eyeing George wearily, but now he was assessing the inside of the house as well, carefully checking for any changes since the last time he had visited.

"You came at the perfect time," George went on conversationally as he led them through to the kitchen. "Angie and Artie are both home, we were planning on staying in for the day. You should join us for lunch! And your boyfriend, too, of course. I'm sorry, what was your name ...?"

"The Doctor," he answered coolly.

"'The Doctor'?" George repeated in confusion, flashing Rose a dubious look. "Doctor who?"

Rose watched in amusement as the Doctor's hard glare slowly melted into an expression of pleased smugness. He grinned at Rose and raised his eyebrows as he pointed in George's direction. "Ah, there, you see?" he muttered conspiratorially. "Good, isn't it?"

"Sorry?" George asked, looking between them curiously.

"Say it again," the Doctor prompted, smiling eagerly in the other man's direction once more. "Go on, ask the question again."

"Doctor ... who?" George repeated dubiously.

"Okay, just once more," the Doctor prodded, closing his eyes with an odd, blissful expression.

"Doctor who?" George huffed for a third time, growing visibly irritated as his confused smile finally fell into an annoyed frown.

"Alright, dear, I think that's enough," Rose finally cut in, raising her brows at the Doctor in a pointed look. "Sorry," she apologized again, flashing George a small smile. "Like I said, it's been a while since he's been around other people. He's come to fancy his own voice just a bit too much. Tends to go on a bit - never really knows when to stop. Also doesn't know how to take a hint." Rose ended her sentence speaking through clenched teeth as she glared openly at the Doctor, who's attention had been caught by a large fern growing in the window and was currently reaching towards one of the green fronds, mouthing hanging open, ready to lick it.

"Where did you two meet, exactly?" George asked, his gaze turning suspicious as he glanced from the Doctor to Rose and back again.

"Long story," the Doctor replied before Rose could open her mouth and attempt to formulate a lie. "And we're sorry, but we can't stay for lunch. We're here on business."

"'Business'?" George asked, raising a brow in Rose's direction. "What do you mean 'business'? What sort of business could you have out here?"

"The Doctor had some work he was doing in the area," Rose explained hastily. "He does ... landscaping. Yes, landscaping," she insisted as the Doctor turned an irritated scowl in her direction. "Which also explains his blue tool shed out front. He was working a job nearby so we thought it would be nice to just stop by and say hello, make sure that the kids are alright, that sort of thing."

"They miss you, you know," George muttered ruefully as he turned to a steaming kettle that he had evidently abandoned on the kitchen counter when they had interrupted him. "Angie would never admit it out loud, of course, but they both do. The next time you're in town you should take them out somewhere, spend some time together."

"Sounds brilliant!" the Doctor agreed enthusiastically, a wide smile suddenly stretching over his features. "Where are the children, by the way? I'd love to meet them, maybe get to know them, ask a few questions, perhaps even take a few blood samples ..."

"The Doctor loves kids," Rose interrupted, speaking loudly over the end of his sentence as she saw George's eyes beginning to widen with fearful concern. "That's actually how we met! He ... used to be a nanny, too."

Rose bit her lip and silently prayed that her assessment of the situation was correct. Whoever Clara Oswald was, she obviously wasn't a blood relative of the Maitland family, and she clearly wasn't a mere neighbor, either - so that meant that she had to be either a hired employee or a family friend, perhaps even both.

"The ... landscaper used to be a nanny?" George asked slowly, narrowing his eyes at both of them again. Rose noticed that he hadn't contradicted her assumptive claim to be his own hired nanny, and she couldn't help but feel a bit proud of the fact that she had been able to work out the pieces on her own from what little evidence she had acquired.

"Oh, you know - I do a bit of this, bit of that," the Doctor replied casually, gesturing wildly with his hands once more. "I'm a dabbler, I dabble. Ooh, love that word!" he muttered under his breath as an aside to Rose. "Dabble. Brilliant word, that, I should use it more often."

They were saved from having to make up any more ridiculous lies as a young boy suddenly entered the kitchen, his nose buried deep in a book with a plain, dark red cover.

"Artie, look who's back!" George announced, smiling widely as his son finally glanced up and laid eyes on Rose.

"Clara!" the young boy exclaimed, instantly breaking into a bright smile. "It's been so boring while you've been away! Where did you go this time?"

"You ... wouldn't believe me if I told you," Rose replied awkwardly.

"Are you staying for long this time? Are you going to take us on an adventure?" Artie asked eagerly.

"Yes! Of course!" the Doctor exclaimed before Rose could reply. "I've already got one planned - a fantastic adventure! We'll go as soon as you answer some questions."

"We'll what?" Rose demanded at the same time that Artie leaned forward curiously and asked, "What kind of questions?"

"Well, first question is a pretty simple one," the Doctor replied breezily. "My first question is - what is that?"

Rose, George, and Artie followed the line of the Doctor's pointed finger to a small laptop sitting on the kitchen table with the screen lit up and filled with old, antique photographs.

"It's a ... laptop," Artie replied slowly, flashing the Doctor a look that suggested that he thought that he was being quite ridiculous.

"Yes, yes, I know that," the Doctor huffed with a roll of his eyes. He stepped closer to the said device so that he could point again, this time putting his finger right up against the glass screen as he tapped the images of the old, yellowed pictures. "I meant these. What are these?"

"They're pictures I found at school," Artie explained simply. "I was showing them to Dad - he doesn't think they're real."

"Doctor ..." Rose piped up, staring at the lit up laptop screen with wide-eyed shock. "How ... how is that possible?"

"Where did you find them?" the Doctor demanded, seeming to ignore Rose's question as she stepped closer to him to peer at the images that lined the small screen. Laid out in front of her was a small collage of photographs from varying centuries, and yet they all shared one common trait - they were all pictures of her. Well, pictures of her and the Doctor, more specifically - most of them from their recent adventures and very clearly (and impossibly) authentic.

"I found them in all sorts of different places," Artie replied with a shrug. "Some were online, some were in history books. One was an old Polaroid tucked into one of my notebooks. Don't know how it got there, but it's definitely you."

"I've been trying to convince him that it's just nonsense," George muttered exasperatedly as Rose reached out and traced the outline of her own face in full-on nineteenth-century London attire. "It's Photoshop, isn't it? Or something like that. It's got to be."

"Nah, I reckon they're real." Rose blinked and looked up from the impossible pictures to see that the same teenage girl who she had met on her first day in this universe had joined them without anybody noticing. The girl was leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen with a knowing smirk on her features as she watched Rose's wide-eyed reaction.

"Look at her face," Angie insisted. "She's as surprised to see them as we were. She had no idea that the photos were being taken."

"Clever," the Doctor murmured, snapping his fingers and pointing them rudely into Angie's face. "This one's clever. She's definitely coming along."

"Coming along where?" Angie asked snidely, turning up her nose at the Doctor as she slowly looked him up and down.

"On our next adventure!" the Doctor exclaimed simply. "What do you say, eh? Fun-filled outing? You two, me, and the nanny? Tell you what, I've been saving this one for a rainy day, but I think it's finally time that we visit the Spacey Zoomer ride! Eh? Sound like fun?"

"Just be back by dinner," George muttered wearily, already waving his hand at them dismissively and turning back to his cup of tea. Clearly, these "adventure"-outings were just another odd memory that the Bad Wolf had instilled in these people, though Rose couldn't for the life of her figure out why.

"Clara, your boyfriend is weird," Angie sighed with a roll of her eyes.

"Weird is fine," Artie commented cheerfully.

"No, weird is cool," the Doctor amended as he flashed them all a wide smile and then darted back out the front door once more, not even waiting to see if any of them would actually be brave enough to follow him.

[ragewerthers]

Amatus

Summary:  As the Inquisition continues to ready itself for the battles that lie ahead, two recruits find a moment to have fun and be the young and in love idiots they are supposed to be.

A/n: This one was an interesting one! It's for Day 6 of KuroDai week and the prompt choices were '90's anime au/Fantasy RPG' and I went with the later! I love dragon age: inquisition and I thought it might be fun to just settle them in this world for a little bit! A bit fluffier than my last fic! :D

You can also read on AO3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18798292

Happy reading! :D

Word Count: 1741

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“I don’t see why you don’t just create a magic barrier around yourself to keep enemies at bay, Sa’amura?” Kuroo crooned from his perch on the steps of the Herald’s tavern, a mug of ale in his hand as he watched the former soldier practicing his swordsmanship against a few straw dummies set up only a few feet away.

Whoever had thought setting up a training arena near a tavern was a genius in Kuroo’s book.

Watching handsome men working on their fighting form while he was able to enjoy a drink?  What wasn’t to like about that?

The man in question rolled his eyes as he squared his shoulders once more, trying to ignore the mage attempting to rattle him.

“Not all of us are Tevine with magic running through our blood, Kuroo.  Some of us actually have to put in hard work if we want to survive out there,” he said in the tone of someone trying to explain something simple to a child.

Kuroo smiled into his drink, setting it down beside himself a moment later as he watched Daichi land a few good combo strikes to the straw dummy, nearly decapitating its sad little bucket head.

“You make a fair point, Sa’amura.  Not many can be as lucky, clever, talented, gorgeous or modest as myself,” he said, getting a snort out of the soldier and chuckling himself when Daichi turned around with a smile on his features.

“You’re an idiot,” he said with a barely contained giggle, something Daichi would claim till his dying day that he didn’t do, but Kuroo knew better.

“Yes, but you love me.  So what does that say about you, hmm?” Kuroo asked, getting with an exaggerated groan that left him sounding more like an ninety-seven year old instead of his twenty-six years of age.

Daichi shook his head at the sad display and smiled more.

“Says that I’m in love with an idiot… and everyone should take pity on me,” he teased, making his way to the edge of the arena where a small fence had been erected lest one of the taverns drunk patrons inadvertently maimed.  He set his sword against one of the rickity boards as Kuroo drew closer, a little scowl on his face from the comment.

“You realize that I could turn your trousers to ice in a snap, correct?  Or set your eyebrows on fire?” he shot back, standing before Daichi and resting his arms on the fence between them.

Daichi could only smile more at that, gleeful in the knowledge that he’d been the one to annoy Kuroo first, regardless of the mages attempts earlier upon himself.

“But you won’t… because you love me and my handsome eyebrows,” he said, giving them a little waggle for emphasis and making Kuroo hide a smile behind his hand, not ready to make up just yet.

“No I don’t.  They’re dumb.  Like you… who’s dumb,” he tried to shoot back, only succeeding in getting Daichi to laugh more.

“How much did Cabot let you drink?” Daichi asked lightly, reaching forward to ruffle his partners unruly hair, getting a little grumble for his efforts and a hand batting his away.

“Not nearly enough,” the mage complained, though he’d finally allowed a smile to appear over his features.

Daichi smiled lightly at that and brought his hand away from Kuroo’s hair to lightly rest against the mans cheek, his thumb soothing over the pale skin.

“When you reach eyebrow insulting status, you’ve had too much, dear,” he murmured lightly and Kuroo felt his ears flush at the endearment.

“You… are playing unfair now, Amatus,” Kuroo purred back softly, watching as Daichi’s neck began to flush in return before finding a gentle kiss pressed to his lips.

Daichi leaned back a moment later, resting his forehead against the other mans and letting his hand fall to gently cradle the back of his neck.  “You know I’m weak against that nickname, Kuroo,” he murmured fondly, getting the mage to chuckle a bit.

“I do.  That’s why I said it…. Amatus,” he murmured once more, letting his voice dip lower still and feeling the way Daichi shivered before him.

“Maker’s breath, you’re going to be the death of me,” he whispered back softly, nudging their noses together and feeling the way Kuroo’s crinkled slightly against his own.

“Never,” Kuroo whispered, pressing one more kiss to his lips before leaning back with a smirk.  “In fact… why don’t you let me train with you a little?  Make sure that you’re up to snuff for whatever else we’re gonna face out there.”

Daichi had to fight the urge to lean forward and chase after Kuroo’s kiss, but he was definitely pulled from his thoughts when he heard the offer, a challenging smile appearing over his own features.

“Oh?  The mage wants to get his hands dirty?” he teased as Kuroo clambered over the fence to land on the other side beside his smug looking partner.

“Pfft.  Not in the least.  I can take you down without laying a finger on you, Dai,” Kuroo warned with a smirk already taking over his features.  To prove his point he brought a hand up and with a little waggle of his fingers, sent a force of air against his partners chest, unbalancing him and making him stagger back a few steps.

Daichi, to be fair, had been caught off guard a bit by the mini attack and so he did windmill his arms a bit to try and steady himself, only to find Kuroo cackling at the sight.  Daichi narrowed his eyes before glancing at his sword.  He refused to go so far as to use an actual blade against him and so he squared his shoulder and planted his feet a bit more firmly as he watched Kuroo starting to prowl around the arena.

“What’s this?  Not going to pick up your weapon against me?” Kuroo asked as he brought his hands back up, pausing just a moment before sending a blast of ice racing toward him.

The fractals zigzagged across the ground toward Daichi who only just rolled out of the way of another hit.

“I’m sorry.  You know I can’t do that, but I think I can still take you down without a weapon,” Daichi explained as he stood back up quickly, moving in time to avoid another blast of ice.

Kuroo quirked an eyebrow at that, watching as Daichi ducked and dived away from each spell he cast.  “I’m afraid I don’t see how when you can’t even get close to me, Amatus,” he teased, knowing he was only riling the man up more.  “And if this what you do on the battlefield?  Roll around like a tumbleweed?  Commander Cullen definitely needs to start thinking about different training regimes for you all.”

Daichi snorted at that, knowing that Kuroo’s words weren’t anything to be taken seriously.  Much like how Kuroo knew that Daichi’s earlier jab at his magic wasn’t an honest to gods insult.  Both men respected each others tactics;.  Really, this banter was just another part of their lives.

After having rolled away from another blast, Daichi got up, dusting off his left arm.

“As if you’d actually say something like that to… oh!  Good evening, Commander Rutherford!” Daichi said instantly, his back going straight as he offered a salute, eyes locked over Kuroo’s shoulder.

Kuroo’s eyes widened at that and he instantly turned around.  “Good even-...,” he began before finding no one behind him save for a bucket headed dummy.

Uh oh.

Before he could fully turn around he felt something colliding with his body and before long he was tackled to the ground a smug Daichi straddling his hips and looking far too smug.

“Is that what you mages do?  Get distracted by tactics used on children?” he teased back, watching as Kuroo huffed under him and pushed at his chest.

“That was unfair and you know it!  Now get off me!  You smell terrible!  Rolling around in the dirt like you were!” Kuroo chided, wriggling underneath Daichi to get his freedom.

“What?!  Oh you little…,” Daichi glanced to the side of his partners head, reaching over and grabbing a chunk of ice the size of his palm from one of the earlier attacks and promptly shoving it up his partners shirt.

The squeal that echoed around the courtyard was hilarious and it wasn’t long before Daichi was laughing so hard he actually fell off his partner who promptly jumped up and began shimmying around the arena to free himself of the chill.

“You are a horrible, horrible man!” Kuroo shouted, holding his shirt out from his body and shaking it viciously before hearing the resounding thunk of the ice chunk hitting the ground.

Daichi was now at least sitting up on the ground, but he was laughing so hard the only sounds he could make were squeaks and snorts as he tried to convey how absolutely not sorry he was.

To be fair the sight was far too precious for Kuroo to stay angry and he gave a dramatic little sigh as Daichi finally started to calm.

“Oh… oh my g-gahad,” Daichi wheezed, wiping at his eyes to clear the tears of mirth.  “We should…  use that in the field.  That noise alone would shock them all so much they’d freeze and we’d have our chance!”

Kuroo narrowed his eyes at that and turned his back on the man, folding his arms over his chest.

“If you think I’m ever letting you get close enough to do that to me again you’re wrong!” he warned before two strong arms easily circled his waist, hugging him close against a broad chest.

“You were saying, Amatus?” he murmured softly against his partners shoulder, saying the endearment as best he could and causing Kuroo’s face to turn a brilliant shade of red.  Daichi’s smile only grew and he nuzzled against his shoulder.  “I see that doesn’t just work on me.”

“Andraste preserve me, you’re going to be the death of me,” Kuroo muttered, but the absolutely smitten smile on his face spoke volumes more.

“Never,” Daichi chuckled, hugging the man just a little bit closer.

The world may be falling apart around them, but as long as they could continue to find these little moments with one another, find a way to stay connected and stay strong… they could make it through anything.