#and now my hands are twitching towards the new doc button

[johnslittlespoon]

i got so hyper–focussed while sat outside for hrs furiously writing the dog coded fic that i got fried to HELL by the sun and now i've been dealing w sunburn for the past few days. labour of love or whatever

[senorincognito69]

Pillow 33 - PokeMOM: Red and Blue 2

The continuation to: http://docs-lab.com/submissions/3414/pokemom-red-blue-monthly-tale-39

(Man into ¿¿?? - TG)*

Celadon City, the bustling metropolis at the heart of Kanto, an obligatory stop for any travelling trainer where many humans, many pokemon and many humans that could be pokemon lived in relative harmony.

In one of the many apartment buildings in the city, a twelve storey structure with a sturdy elevator, Neighbour Andrew, who lived on the top floor, was about to pick that elevator to go for an early afternoon bike ride.

Andrew was an affable and unassuming old man. He was white skinned with a slight tan, with short greyish hair, closely shaved, sort of plump, somewhere around his fifties and single. The sort of fella that is always pleasant and kind to coworkers, peers and pokemon. On the weekends he often baked pastries and freely shared them.

He entered the elevator, pushed the button for the ground floor, and waited patiently, humming softly with his arms crossed behind his back.

When the elevator reached the eleventh floor it stopped, the doors opened and a woman entered. A young short woman with short hair that was a rusty red tone, she wore comfy sporty clothes and a cap, she also had a remarkably large bust that was the envy of a few. The woman had on her back a sizable backpack, from her belt hung three shrunken pokeballs that held pokemon inside them.

She was a pokemon trainer.

She was also quite distracted, looking down at her pokedex which she was holding in one hand while the other hand fiddled around with an empty pokeball.

She was so distracted in fact that she didn’t notice that Andrew was in the elevator until after the elevator’s door closed and it began to descend towards the tenth floor, Andrew greeted her.

“Howdy, Terry!” said Andrew with a smile. “Getting ready for another adventure?”

Terry stopped looking at the pokedex and focussed her attention on her neighbour.

“Andrew!” she squeaked, blushing a bit. “Sorry, didn’t notice you back there…!”

Andrew chuckled honestly.

“Don’t worry girl, don’t worry,” he answered, unbothered. “What better time to be distracted than when you are young? You trainers are always busy, no need to waste time on old fools like me!”

“Nah, you are too mean on yourself.”

“Or you are too kind, after all, who would know what I am better than I do myself?” he laughed. “Now, tell me, are you going after the local gym leader? It would certainly be nice if someone took that smug girl down a peg, or maybe even two! I heard that your wartortle is a quite magnificent fighter!”

Terry passed a finger over the pokeball that held her ace, since she had begun her trainer escapades her squirtle had evolved and she had acquired a zubat and a mankey for her team.

She shook her head.

“I’m not ready for that, I will be eventually for sure, just not yet… You might not see me for a long while… I’m actually leaving the city… I’m going far away, to train, see new places… There’s a big world out there, too big to always stay in the same place and if I want to get stronger I have to explore it!”

They passed the ninth floor.

Andrew nodded his understanding.

“Ahhh, the BIG adventure…!” he sighed with blue melancholy. “It makes me very envious. I wish I had what it takes to be a trainer, but I didn’t even have the guts to catch my own pokemon… I’m a perpetual loser.”

“Hey, you're getting gloomy, don’t you say such things, you always have time to start your own adventure!”

“No, no Terry, it’s too late for me, I'm a good-for-nothing... Trainer? I wouldn’t even make it as a pokemon breeder! Neighbour Andrew, just a background character in other people's awesome adventures…” his next sigh was a bitter one. “Sorry, sorry sweetheart, I’m ruining the mood, it just got me the wrong way, you need a warm farewell, not the ramblings of an elderly fossil…!”

Andrew stared forward with a dull glow in his eyes.

Terry took a sad glance at her neighbour, her lips twitched, she wished to do something for him.

Help him find his place...

The elevator left the eighth floor behind.

Terry’s pokedex began to shake and buzz in her hand, she looked down at her device, frowning, startled, she was quite familiar with the shenanigans that those machines could cause.

“Wait, don’t you dare…!” she whispered.

Andrew’s attention was focussed when a beam of light came from the top of the pokedex and began to shine over him going up and down as if it was analysing him.

“Uh?” he mumbled, surprised.

On top of the pokedex’s screen a small and extremely accurate holographic depiction of Andrew appeared.

A completely nude one at that, which begins to slowly spin in a stiff pose and with a mildly blank expression, showing off Andrew’s chubby shame, from his ass to his flabby flaccid penis, resting on top of his hanging balls surrounded by grey pubes.

Both Terry’s and Andrew’s face turned an intense shade of red.

Then the pokedex spoke loudly in a robotic voice.

Andrew Fred Sully

Species: Human (Crossdresser, Office worker)

Type: Normal

Gender: ♂

Abilities: Grandma Heart // Reliable

Age: 54

Status: Wild

When the announcement finished the device began to fill up with more data about Andrew. Measurements of all kinds… weight, height, dick size… Details such as  how many times he had sex or had worn panties while at work, ending in a pretty lengthy summary of his human existence right up to the point at which he had stepped into the elevator.

Terry’s eyebrows rose - she and Andrew were blushing vividly, looking at each other.

“Crossdresser?” she asked.

Andrew moved away into one of the corners of the none too spacious elevator, putting as much distance as he could between himself and the trainer.

“D-Did your pokedex just register me?!” he cried in a broken voice.

Terry’s neighbour might not have had all the answers, but he was self-aware enough to know the rules. A pokedex only registers pokemon and if he had been registered by Terry’s pokedex that meant that at the very least he was potentially not fully human.

And given the right circumstances perhaps not even human at all.

A frightening concept… that for some reasons erected his sex.

Terry looked at Andrew's scared pale face then looked at the pokedex and then back at him.

She took a step forward.

“Nonononono!” she lifted her other hand, the one she had forgotten was still holding an empty pokemon ready to catch any wild pokemon. “The pokedex works sorta on its own, it isn’t my fault, or yours, I don’t have any intention of…”

Her poor attempt at explaining made Andrew press himself even further into the corner to the point he had begun to tiptoe, terrified of the pokeball.

“Don’t get any closer! Don’t capture me! Don’t make me a pokemon!” he pleaded, sobbing.

“I’m not…!”

Terry had no intention of ending her neighbour's humanity, but it was right then just as the elevator reached the seventh floor and on that floor there was a tiny structural issue with the building that always made the whole elevator car slightly shake when going down.

Shake enough to cause the pokeball to escape from Terry’s fingers.

The ball was, accidentally, tossed, making a perfect curve through the air before hitting Andrew in the centre of his forehead. After striking its target it bounced back and opened in mid-air.

In that last brief second Andrew got a perfect view of the interior of his fate. The entirety of his body mass began to glow red, before turning into light that was pulled into a spiral.

“Pleaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaashhhhhhhhhh…!” his begging cry was stretched into nothing as he was sucked towards the interior of the pokeball.

Once every ounce of Andrew was inside the pokeball, it closed.

Both the man’s empty clothes and the ball dropped heavily to the floor, as if the neighbour had never existed, but some might say his luck was much worse than simply disappearing.

Or more humiliating at the very least.

The elevator reached the sixth floor.

Terry squatted in front of the pile of clothes and the pokeball, the pokeball was wobbling weakly, its middle red light blinking. It was rare for a pokemon trainer to desire for their captured monster to escape…

“Please, please, fight it, resist! Get out Andrew!”

PING!

The ball stopped moving, the pokemon had been captured.

“Oh, arceus,” Terry sighed, picking up the pokeball.

She felt the weight of the man trapped inside.

Andrew had been dematerialized and rematerialized in the interior of the small capturing device. Stripped naked, shrunk, compressed, squeezed and contorted into a space that was not comfortable because he wasn’t fully a pokemon… yet…

The old fella was sobbing - upside down, hot, sweaty, completely bent to the point of having his dick against his face, his stiff wiener leaking precum over his cheek. Terry stood up, carefully holding the pokeball.

“I’m so, so sorry!” she swore to the ball. “It was an accident! I didn’t really mean for you to… Sigh! Stay calm Andrew, I will get you out as soon as the elevator stops, when we reach the ground floor I will, I… Choose you…”

Terry’s pokedex vibrated once again, distracting her.

As they arrived at the fifth floor Andrew’s registered information began to become rewritten, starting with the neighbour’s name being deleted and replaced by what he was about to become.

What he was going to be from now on.

Snorlax

Species: Sleeping Glutton (Former Human Crossdresser)

Type: Normal

Gender: ♀

Terry bit her lip.

Abilities:  Thick Fat // Gluttony // Grandma Heart // Reliable

Age: 54

Status: Caught (Celadon City)

The eyelids of the pokemon trainer narrowed as the pokedex updated the measurement trivia and erased Andrew’s life summary, leaving a short entry in its place.

Very lazy. Just eats and sleeps. As its rotund bulk builds, it becomes steadily more slothful.

She gave the new info a second read, her feelings were a shambles, she was half worried about the sorry end of poor old Andrew and half… well… if the pokedex was correct, and it often was, her neighbour just happened to be quite the desirable monster to obtain for any pokemon team…

“Snorlax…” she mumbled… causing the pokeball to open. “No! No!”

Too late.

The pokeball escaped her palm, leaping forward and opening as the red energy light came from inside it. The beam focused on the corner of the elevator where Andrew’s clothes had been left, reshaping into a forming a human silhouette before rematerializing the plump mature neighbour back in the outside world.

Andrew reappeared in the elevator, naked and moist, sitting on the floor, breathing heavily and sobbing plaintively. His dick twitching and hard between his legs, miserable and humiliated he looked up at his pokemon master.

“Terry…!” he cried. “Terry, I don’t want to be a pokemon!”

It wasn’t too powerful of a complaint, being neither a protest or a demand, rather more of a resigned sorrowful moan. Terry put her pokedex back in a pocket and lifted both hands, trying to calm down her distressed neighbour while looking around the floor for the pokeball.

“Don’t panic, breathe deeply, we have to put you back in the pokeball before you begin to change, you can’t transform here!”

They reached the fourth floor and all of Andrew’s hair, even his eyebrows, began to quickly be plucked from his skin.

“Nuh! Nuh, please! Nuh transform!” he sobbed, shaking his head, his ears becoming very pointy and migrating to the top of the sides of his balding head.

Terry saw the pokeball in the floor and knelt, trying to reach it

“Andrew, you are a pokemon already, nothing can change that, but if you…!” she tried to argue with her transforming neighbour.

“NUUUUUUUH!” cried Andrew more loudly. “I snor wanna be snor! Snorrr, me snor, snor! Snorlaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaxxxxxxxxxxxssshhhhhh!”

That last cry was stretched out into a long yawning sound. Andrew’s mouth opened inhumanly wide. A pair of tusks grew from his lower mouth, his eyelids closed up, looking like a pair of lines and his cock shivered leaking a short flow of sperm. It was a contagious yawning which Terry found herself forced to join, dropping down on all fours with a sleepy sensation as she crawled towards the pokeball.

The power of that yawn unleashed the changes, Andrew’s body began to rapidly expand in all directions, growing larger and rounder by the second. His stomach swelled exponentially faster than the rest of his body, his nipples thickened, areolas spread as a pair of enormous breasts formed, resting on top of his gigantic growing belly.

Fur began to sprout all over his smooth body, it was greyish at the edges, but a soft cream tone on his belly, face and feet. Andrew slowly slid down against the elevator wall, lazily touching his new pair of breasts, then raised his hands in front of his seemingly closed eyes.

He saw his fingers shrinking around his nails, which sharpened into claws. Five sturdy claws on each hand, on his feet two of his toes shrank to nothing on each, leaving only three claws per foot.

Panic and dullness intermixed.

“Teeeeeerryyyysh! Laaaaaaaaaaaax!” His voice sounded deep, slow and lazy.

Terry was woken up from her yawn induced half-slumber when Andrew’s furry belly began to push her back. Well on his way to become a snorlax Andrew was already filling more than half of the already small space in the elevator and he just kept growing.

“Andrew!” Terry grunted, trying to push at the belly with one hand without any effect as she stretched her other arm over to reach the pokeball. “Control yourself! Stop for a moment!”

“Snoooooooooor! Snoooooooooooooorlaaaaaaxxxx!”

With a desperate stretch Terry’s tiptoes reached the pokeball, but another burst of changes expanded the belly, pushing her back and making her lose her grip on the ball, which rolled on top of the curve of the stomach ending up against the other wall of the elevator.

“No!” groaned Terry as she was pinned against the wall by the fat.

The monster’s perpetually sleeping face lost many of its features, such as its nose, as it inflated into a simpler teddy bear like ursine shape. Now neckless above that titanic spheric tummy that now made up most of the body.

Weight.

Heat.

Pressure.

There was a conflict between mass and space that was about to reach its limit, the elevator’s gears ground. It was quite comfortable to be trapped by the furry belly. It was warm, soft and furry, but that didn’t make Terry any less anxious about their current situation.

She wondered if this was how it felt to be inside a pokeball while still being human.

What floor were they even on?

“Andreeewwwg!” she gasped.

“Terryyyxxx… Snor, huuuuungry…!” the snorlax yawned.

After an eternal couple of minutes the elevator mercifully reached the ground floor.

Another neighbour, a smug looking woman carrying a bag of groceries, was waiting for the next lift. She screamed and took a step back when the elevator’s doors slid open and she saw what was inside.

One of the pokemon’s legs came out, preventing the doors from closing again. With the liberty of the extra space the changes made the monster grow even bigger.

With lots of struggling and a great effort Terry dragged herself around the belly in search of an exit.

“Ngggggggghhhhhhhh!”

With a final tug she pulled herself out of the elevator, escaping from the fat trap and landing face first on the floor. Panting, blushing and dishevelled she sat up and looked back at the state of the elevator.

“What the heck is going on?!” the neighbour asked Terry.

The elevator was by now completely clogged by the giant pokemon inside it, a barely contained mass of fuzzy fat. The leg of the monster shortened until only the foot was left, the foot, with its three claws, swelled and became round. Andrew’s dick and balls remain hanging, mockingly small in an enlarged crotch, in full view of Terry and the neighbour.

“Snor! Snor!” Andrew shook violently as the last change reached his sex, the small penis grew thick and red, balls were sucked up into his body, a meaty clench forms from their skin. They become the clit and vulva of a large meaty vagina, the last part of the monster’s body that was covered in the greyish fur. “SNOOORLAAAAAAH!”

The neighbour screamed, some of her groceries fell out of her bag. The shaking of the snorlax’s final change and orgasms were too much for the elevator, the cable snapped and the box collapsed, ending up crooked within the door frame.

“I caught a female snorlax…” Terry slowly explained. “And she accidentally left the pokeball in the elevator…” The snorlax shook again, slightly raising her butt, the pokeball rolled out from under her pussy and kept rolling until it reached Terry’s hand. Terry got up and pointed the pokeball at her pokemon. “Snorlax, come back.”

The ball opened, flesh turned into energy and was swiftly pulled back inside the sphere.

Terry bowed solemnly to her neighbour.

“Sorry we broke the elevator,” she said, then she picked up a couple of the apples that had fallen from the grocery bag and ran towards the building’s exit.

“Hey… Hey! You can’t just leave!” the neighbour protested.

She was wrong.

Outside, on the busy streets of Celadon City, Terry found a more or less empty spot and tossed the pokeball once more, this time willingly. The snorlax came out, amusing some of the passersby, and annoying some others when the giant pokemon appeared in the middle of the street, but most of them were indifferent to the activities of a random trainer.

The giant bearish giantess lay down on her back, too tired to move or to care about technically being naked in the middle of the street. A majestic female snorlax, her fur grey where it was usually dark blue-green for her kin and a pair of enormous cream furred breasts resting on top of her cream furred belly, in proportion with the rest of her large body.

Terry walked to the side of the pokemon’s head.

“Welp…” she said with a smile, patting the monster’s head. “Thank you for tagging along, big buddy!”

“Snoooor…”

Terry put the apples in the snorlax’s mouth, who munched them happily.

The trainer pulled out her pokedex and went to the TEAM tab, the snorlax had been added to her other three pokemons. She selected her new team member, at the top the new screen that opened the name of the pokemon appeared:  Snorlax (Former Andrew Fred Sully)

After briefly considering things Terry deleted the name and wrote a new one: Granny

She put the pokedex away and gave the monster’s tummy a tender hug.

“We’ll get some extra food before leaving! I know there’s great potential in you, Granny!” she said. “You are going to be a champion!”

Granny lazily tapped her trainer’s back before starting to snooze.

Terry chuckled.

Shortly after that, the snorlax was back inside her pokeball, hanging from Terry’s belt along with the rest of the team.

After a stop at the mall Terry finally left the city towards the east.

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[secret-rendezvous1d]

“you did what?”

hello, hi!

surprise, i guess? haha. i’m struggling to sleep so i’m letting my imagination run a little wild on google docs and i gained a little inspiration from an episode i’ve just watched of criminal minds and this came out. a little fluff in the workplace. a huge contrast to the previously posted story, full of smut, which you will find linked here.

like, reblog and send in some feedback, please. it’s greatly appreciated and it helps me work out what you want to see and what you are after. if you want something specific then do let me know! i’d love to try and write something for you.

thank you. enjoy.

-

“you did what?” spencer reid x female reader (reader insert imagine) word count; 1.5k

* if you haven’t watched criminal minds then this does contain some spoilers to the show that you may want to dodge if you are thinking of starting the series up. *

summary; when the bau arrive home from a case, spencer has something exciting to tell yn.

-

As soon as YN had gotten word of the jet touching ground, the time around her seemed to slow down.

All she wanted was to see her boyfriend after a long day of doing nothing around the office. Having been injured in the field during their last case, with a gunshot wound to her right shoulder, YN had been given strict orders to stay away from any activity until her arm had almost completely healed. Hotch made sure she wasn’t placed actively on a case, using the help of Garcia to keep her grounded in Virginia whilst they flew across the borders, making it clear that she would still be on some use when she wasn’t with them in person. Something Spencer could agree one and was adamant that she followed orders because, even though they were vulnerable to any kind of violence and injury when working a case with a dangerous unknown subject and there was always a likelihood of getting seriously injured or caught in a predicament that caused onsight panic, it scared him to see her get hit in a crossfire. If he had it his way, he’d have requested that they both took their holiday leave so he could help her back to health at home - but he knew, deep down, it wasn’t necessary.

The ding of the elevator was enough to calm the butterflies in her belly.

Morgan was the first to leave the confined space and gave YN a side-hug, being careful not to jolt her arm with his sudden movement, before he rushed away and disappeared round the corner. Hotch gave her warming and welcoming smile and a subtle nod, which she returned in his favour, and she watched him walk into the unit whilst undoing the button of his sui jacket and carrying his briefcase in his free hand. Blake had given her uninjured shoulder a squeeze on the way passed with a knowing look in her eye, a twitch in her eyebrow directed behind her and had YN looking at the elevator. JJ and Spencer were the last to leave the elevator, deep in a conversation with Rossi, that YN could only work out was his time in the marines from the way he was talking to passionately.

“Hey, you. You’ll never guess what your boy wonder did today,” JJ grinned, squeezing YN into a gentle hug before releasing her, allowing Rossi to come along and show his appreciation of his welcome by squeezing her elbows. Squeezing one a little softer than the other to not add injury to an existing one, “genius here delivered a baby.”

And with that, the two of them had left Spencer and her alone in the hallway.

“You did what?”

YN stood stunned in her place, barely able to move any part of her body nor close her mouth that had gawped open in surprise, watching and feeling him step closer to her. His tattered trainers squeaking on the tiled floor beneath him with each step he took in her direction, his eyes never leaving the sling that her arm had been tucked into for the last few days, guilt sinking to the bottom of his gut because he probably could have prevented her from being in the pain she was in by simply following her when she disappeared to check a room and spooked the unsub who had been hiding. His body stopped before her, almost awkwardly and like they hadn’t been dating for almost 6 years, almost like they were new to a workplace romance and didn’t want anyone to see them so soft towards each other.

“Yeah, I- uh,” he blushed softly and rubbed the back of his neck nervously, something YN had found out to be one of the tics that showed up when he felt a little under pressure and anxious over a situation, “I delivered a baby.”

“You- you helped a woman give birth? In the field? A baby?”

YN had a million questions running through her mind; how the hell did he end up in a situation where he had to help a victim give birth to a baby? How was it safe enough for a woman to be giving birth if she was surrounded by police cars and police units and weapons all around with a dangerous unsub so close to the scene? Why did he decide he was the best one in the team to become a temporary midwife for the moment? When did he learn so much about labour and delivery?

She wished she had been there to watch as Spencer took control of the situation whilst keeping everyone in and around the scene calm and collected, a slight sense of panic in every word he spoke and every action he played, his mind tunnel-visioned on making sure the baby came out healthy and crying for the touch of its warm and nurturing mother. His calming tone being of good use, letting his hand go through the abuse of a woman taking her pain out on squeezing through her contractions, not letting anything get too out of control so that the baby was born into a room that had only, minutes before, been a scene that no baby should have been brought into.

“Yeah, yeah. I, uh, I helped a woman give birth to a baby out in the field,” he repeated, his arm falling down to his side, the leather strap of his go-bag slipping down to his elbow, something he corrected and hoisting it back up onto his shoulder, slipping it over his neck to keep it in a more secure place around his body, “something my eidetic memory will had trouble forgetting.”

YN snorted and rolled her eyes, stepping forward and wrapping her free arm around his waist, welcoming him home with a warm hug and a little intimacy that had gone missing over the last few days; he’d been on a case and YN had been the one left behind to work alongside Garcia on the computers, for obvious reasons. A time she took advantage of and used to complete files with deadlines she had missed because they piled up on the corner of her desk and almost towered her standing figure, that she couldn’t do as quickly as she could with two working arms.

“I read a lot of books about labour and delivery when JJ was pregnant with Henry. You know, just in case she went into labour somewhere where we couldn’t get her to a hospital in time. We needed someone on the team who knew what they were doing so she was doing it correctly,” he explained, arms tight around her waist and a kiss pressed to her forehead after he had concluded his sentence, inhaling the scent of her hair that hadn’t been used with the shampoo that held her usual scent - it was his shampoo and he’d know that scent anywhere and every now and then, keeping it hidden from Spencer, she liked to used his soap and his shampoo to smell like him because she missed his presence around her. “I’d like to think I’d get a job as a midwife almost instantly now. I have experience.”

“At least we’ll be prepared if we ever had to go through it personally,” she hummed, looking up at him and resting her chin upon his chest, his neck craning back so he could press a kiss to her lips and shake his head with a smile. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion though so she was unsure of how he truly felt on the subject of having children. Her fingers dug underneath the hem of his buttoned shirt, fingertips touching the naked skin of his hip, forefinger drawing circles into the soft flesh beneath, “what? We might have a baby and the story of daddy delivering them would definitely be one to tell at Christmas time when they’re all-.”

“We will,” he interrupted, squeezing her hips before releasing her body from his hold, “we will have a baby. I’m not even going to doubt that.”

Not yet, of course.

They had perfect jobs that they loved to be actively involved in, they had a life they were enjoying as just the two of them, they had an single-bed apartment that didn’t feel like a good fit for raising a baby, and they didn’t feel they had enough life experience to even think about trying for a baby. They may have been dating for six years but, in the last two, they’d only just learnt to live with one another, figuratively and literally.

“A baby?” Garcia gasped loudly from behind the two of them, a shocked yet excited expression written all across her face, coffee dribbling down the side of her coffee mug and droplets landing on the floor beside her feet, dressed in the brightest pair of pink high heels she could find in her wardrobe. “Are you guys-”

“No,” YN blurted out, and turned around at her sudden presence, shaking her head quickly with a giggle, “no, we’re not pregnant. Garcia, we’re not.”

“Damn it,” she frowned, her body sinking closer to the floor in dismay, “I was hoping for a new godchild to spoil.”

“One day,” Spencer smiled, dipping his head down and hiding the smile within the fuzz of YN’s air that had become a little messy over the stress of the day, “one day, Garcia. One day.”

[oksana-moods]

Ghost of you - Part 1

Summary: This story begins before CAWS and will develop following the movies. Our OFC was being held by Hydra, who is trying to create a new super soldier. She has a past, which will haunt her untill it comes to bite her. Slow burn. Plus, the title is a song from My Chemical Romance and brings a lot of ofc’s point of view; I was inspired by a lot of songs and I’m sure you’ll recognize a few. Trigger warnings: Violence, bad language, angst. If you find any other, I’ll be glad to add.

“And I remember now, at the top of my lungs in my arms she dies At the end of the world, or the last thing I see.”

Pain.

It’s all void, but pain.

Pain.

It’s like a faint light in the back of my mind telling me to move, but it hurts.

It’s too much.

I feel lightheaded while I slowly drift into consciousness, and it hurts.

Pain.

I become aware that I am laying in the cold ground, I just don’t know where, I can’t remember. I try to turn to the right, but the sharp pain on my left says to me that I broke one rib or two, maybe more. But how?

What am I doing here? Where is here?

I can feel a split on my lip, my cheek has a gash and when I rise my left hand, I see something like a metal glove. Wait. I try to move to have a better look at it…

Pain.

I curse under my breath; my chest is heavy.

I try to look at my hand again. With shaky breath, I realize that I’m not looking at a glove. My whole forearm, from right below my elbow to the tip of my fingers, it’s all made of cold metal. What. The. Fuck??

I gasp. When did this happen? I had two perfect flesh arms, didn’t I?! Why can I remember what happened to me? I lay my head back on the ground and close my eyes. I try to search, but that is nothing to grasp on my mind, I can’t remember a thing. It’s all gone. I take a deep breath and I try harder, try to think of something, anything at all…

And then, like seeing a movie scene from a foggy screen, it’s hard, confusing even, I see a woman. Of course, I don’t know who she is, but it’s something, at least. I’m outside a… bar? A Club? I’m not sure. I am looking at a blond woman, she gives me a wide grin, takes the key from my left hand (oh my, I knew it, is a flesh hand), climbs the motorcycle in front of us. After she turns the engine on, she motions for me to climb as well. Without missing a beat, I am hugging her waist and then we go. Who is this woman? What happened to my arm? To me? I need more answers, I need to dig further, I need more memories. I feel tired, but I push it away. I search, dig throughout the emptiness of my brain…

And here it comes, another flash of foggy memory, will it be the same wo…? Before I could finish, I see myself standing on some sort of park. I’m looking at such pretty little girl wearing a red shirt, her hair is everywhere trying to ride a bike. I feel myself smiling at her. ‘Look at me, I am doing it!’ She laughs and I feel my heart so light at that moment. ‘Yes, you are, sweetie’. I smile back at her as she comes to hug me. ‘Thanks for teaching me, aunt L..’

No. No, no, no, come back. Arg! I needed that information. She was about to say a name. With a grunt I turn to my side, this time it hurts a bit less. Guess I’m getting used to feel like shit. I blink twice, for a moment I think I passed out and started to dream, but no. I’m wide awake. I’m about to grasp a piece of memory in the back of head once again. I close my eyes and there it is… I blink twice. The shades failing in keeping the sun rays out of the room, but I can’t bring myself to care. Just when I turn to my side, a smile creeps itself into my mouth as my eyes land in the goddess laying centimeters away from me. Perfect silk skin, the most beautiful curves my eyes have ever seen. Having her this way, so bare, immaculate even and there’s nothing I wanna do but to stare in awe. Her eyes stir open. They focus on me. Holy, she’s perfect.   ‘Morning...’ She flashes a smile and my heart flutters. She brings her incredible warm hands to touch the military tag resting in my chest. I move my head to kiss her hand that are now touching my cheek. ‘I didn’t know you were wearing my former tag among yours’ She says. I kiss her hands once more before replying ‘That way I can feel you close to me. Close to my heart whenever you’re not around’. The look in her eyes could light up a hole city, priceless, so full of passion and warm and… ‘I lov…’

All I can see is darkness. I’m back to the same place I was before. Instantly missing the warm those memories brought to my chest. I try to go back to that sunny room, but to no avail. I can’t access that memory again as I realize my mind starting to drift off, to go blank. I feel nothing but pain, as darkness embrace me.

 ______________________________________________

I’m jolted awake as the door is burst open by a man wearing black tactical suit. I try to move away, but he takes three steps way too fast. He picks me up by my collar and arm with a deadly grip. Ouch, this is going to leave a bruise. He punches me in the face. Hey, what the hell. Before I can even muster some words, he says: “ready for the next session?” “wha.. what?” “what do you remember, bitch?!” “I…hm. I…  nothing. Who are you?” Another punch, and I feel a crack in my nose. Did this idiot just broke my nose? “Don’t lie to me, woman. What do you remember? Answer me. NOW!” He violently pushes me, so I hit the wall behind me… Suddenly, just like a dream, or a snap, that foggy screen is back. I’m in a doorway, looking at that blond woman again. And God, is she beautiful. She’s wearing a leather jacket that I recognize as my own. I walk towards her, within her personal space. I brush our noses when I see the corner of her lips twitch, ever so slightly, then she pushes me causing my back to hit the wall. She takes two steps. She’s so, so close that I can breathe her breath. My eyes are closed since I’m about to taste…

I’m brought back to reality by being hit square in the face again.

“Stop.” I mutter, now lying on the ground. “Ok. Ok. I remember a... a woman. A blond woman, we are…” I trail off trying to find the correct words. What are we? Who is she? “We are friends. And… And a little girl. That’s all!” I stutter out because that big Glock in his waistband is not friendly at all.

“Aaarg.” He grunts and pick me up again, pushes me to the wall once more, punches me twice and drags me out of the room, or should I say cell? After a few turns through corridors, we arrive in a room, or a lab, with very strange devices and a chair, in which he drops me and ties me, all the while smirking at me. He saw the very confused look in my face, he squats a bit so he can look me dead in the eye. “You are going to break, eventually, woman. I am going to break you. And, in the end, all you will remember is despair. Nothing, but despair.”

I probably lost my mind, or I don’t know, something in his voice made me mad. Made me burn with angry. I totally lost my mind, because I was tied in a crazy chair, in a creepy room, having my ass being beat out of me, but what did I had to lose? All I could feel was this flame in my chest, and boy, it burned. This man could have the upper hand, but I refuse to go down that easy. Next thing I knew, I was spiting blood is his face giving a very blooded grin. I was mad. “I wanna see you try, barf bag. I’m not breakable!”

Of course, his answer was another punch, and my nose did break this time. However, before he could do anything else, the man with a white coat spoke: “Sir, she’s very strong, her memories are very strong. She’s too attached to them. Is hard to erase everything without killing the subject”. Wow, now I became a subject, was this a research facility? Did I volunteer for something? No, not likely. If I had, why would they kick me, punch me and walk around with guns? I’m brought back from my reverie when the ‘doctor/scientist’ speaks again “We could use a different approach, though.” “Which is…” My ‘friend’ in black was losing his patience. I was getting under his skin; I just didn’t know if it was from today or previous encounters. “I think that, since erasing is not working just as it did with the Soldier, we could try to manipulate her memories. Put her through erasing process one more time, and then replay some specific memory, a very painful one a few rounds. It will take time, but I am sure it will be affective. The only memory she’ll have will be one that she’ll beg to forget.” My eyes went wide. I just don’t know what to think. What are these guys doing? And why are they doing it? “Well well, Doctor List, now I know why you are in the payment check.” He turns to face me. “Still think is funny, bitch? You’ll break as it seems.” I spat again, on his feet this time “I will come for you” Oh, I swear I’ll wipe his smug face with my bare hands. He smirked at me “You won’t remember who I am”. He looks at the doctor. “Go on, doc!”

Apparently, this was what the doctor was waiting for. He turned on a few devices and pressed some buttons in the computer whilst I saw and felt some sort of slab, better yet, a helmet closing around in my head. The doctor pressed my cheeks so I’d open my mouth and he could shove a plastic mouthguard inside it. I was about to spat it when he calmly said, “I think is better for you to keep it.”

Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could prepare me for the excruciating pain that I instantly felt when the machine sent electric shock waves to and through my brain, through me.

I must’ve screamed, because I saw the man in black smiling.

Pain. Why are they doing this? I can’t hurt anymore.

Pain.

___________________________________________

I was leaning on the kitchen counter facing the blond woman once again. However, this time I’m feeling a pang in my chest when I look at her eyes. ‘I need to go. This time I think will be longer’. She says and I sigh looking away ‘Then, what are you still doing here?’ It’s her turn to sigh ‘Please, you can’t make me choose between my heart and my responsibilities’. Oh, that line lights a flame inside my heart. ‘I am not. There is nothing to choose. Not now, anyway.’ She throws her hands in the air ‘Why… dammit. Why are you being this cold, this heartless?’ Pain and rage are doing this crazy mix inside me. She has the nerve… Why is she mad? She doesn’t have the right to. She is the one leaving. I grit my teeth ‘Me, I’m being heartless? How long do you think we could keep playing house, pretending… dreaming that I am important, that I’m good enough? You said yourself, you have your responsibilities and there’s nothing I can do. So, forgive me if I am being a bit too cold right now. I’m just trying to protect what’s left from my heart.’ Now, that was a deep cut. But I can’t withdraw my words, if she’s hurting so am I. Right now, she’s standing right next to the door. Hands on the doorknob, but it feels like she’s squeezing my heart. Maybe, because she is. We lock eyes, and all I can see is sadness in those brown pools. ‘It’s not easy for me either, you know’.  She gives me a humorless smile. I had to close my eyes to brace myself for what’s coming next. The final strike, the final hit to shatter the remaining pieces. ‘Guess we are too good at goodbyes, by now’. All I can hear is the door closing and I refuse to open my eyes and face the empty house, the truth. Because opening my eyes is realizing, is to accept the reality. She’s gone. For good this time. She’s right. I am used to goodbyes, way too much for my liking. Pain. I feel some shock waves again in the back of my mind.

Pain.

I have a helmet in my hand and I’m walking towards a chopper. ‘Hey.’ I look up to see the beautiful blond waving and smiling at me. She’s wearing a green flight suit, climbing into some sort of fighter, but this one is different. I smile back ‘Have a nice flight, Cap’, before climbing on my chopper and taking-off. After a few minutes, the radio goes off with the blond’s voice ‘mayday, mayday’. All I can hear is some distress sound. I try to respond but there’s no reply. I look down to the TCAS’s screen and I see her fighter descending way too fast to be good. Tracing a path to where the fighter is headed, I turn the chopper and go as fast as possible. Not long till I see the fighter’s right wing on fire. ‘C’mon C’mon’ I said to myself. I contact the base and tell them to send a medical support to our coordinates, but I can barely hear the response as I watch the aircraft hit the ground in a clearing. My heart drops. When I spot two forms outside the plane, I release a breath that I didn’t know I was holding ‘Son of a bitch, if she isn’t the best pilot’ I laugh to myself. I was flying over the woods, almost reaching their location, relief was washing over me, but was short lived ‘cause I see some sparks near the crash and… ‘NOOOO!’ I shout when an explosion comes from the crash. My heart stops. Truly, stops. It can’t be. No, no, no, no. ‘She can’t be gone’. Then, all I see is white.

Pain.

A helmet in my hand and I’m walking towards a chopper (What? It can’t be). ‘Hey.’ I look up to see the beautiful blond waving and smiling at me. (oh, no. Not again) She’s wearing a green flight suit, climbing into some sort of fighter. ‘Have a nice flight, Cap’ (No, stop. I cannot see it again) I hear ‘mayday, mayday’ And some distress sound. I try to respond but there’s no reply. Not long till I see the fighter’s right wing on fire. I watch the aircraft hit the ground in a clearing. (What is going on?) I see two forms outside the plane. I was almost reaching their location when I spot some sparks near the crash and… (NO. NO, PLEASE. I CAN’T WATCH HER DIE AGAIN) ‘NOOOO!’ (NOO!) I shout when an explosion comes from the crash. ‘She can’t be gone’. And then, white.

This scene, this memory, is being looped in my brain over, and over, and over. I wasn’t counting how many times. I was hurting. My heart was being ripped from my chest over, and over, and over. I was being broken from the inside out.

Pain. And I see her die again, and again, and again.

Pain. And I do nothing, but to scream again, and again, and again.

Pain. And all was left is void.

Pain. And darkness, and despair.

[thatesqcrush]

Team Bonding

Bryan Kneef x Reader. NSFW. Warnings: dub-con, because he’s her superior. Oral sex, vaginal fingering, and fisting. Yes. You read that right. Also squirting. You have been warned. Oh, and this covers ice-skating in my naughty & nice bingo. This is most definitely naughty. 

WC: 2.8K

***

“Bryan Kneef doesn’t do ice skating.” A voice boomed from down the hall.

“Stop referring to yourself in third-person you psycho.” You rolled your eyes as you headed towards the voice. You paused in front of a decorative mirror in the empty law firm and rubbed lip balm over your lips.

“I told you, Bryan Kneef doesn’t do ice skating.”

You rubbed your lips together, and then made way to the lobby, finding the acerbic head of litigation at STR Laurie, sitting in a chair, with a scowl on his face. Which, lets face it, was nothing new for Bryan Kneef.

“Look, I know this is the last thing you wanted to be doing. But your bosses up there, wanted to make the transition with Reddick Boseman smooth.” You pointed towards the ceiling and then pointed back down. “It’s not my fault we got paired up together. You said I could choose what we got to do. I chose ice skating.”

You walked past him and hit the button, calling for the elevator. You crossed your arms and began tapping your foot, irritated. “Well?”

Bryan glowered and then stood. “Fine.”

**

When STR Laurie announced that they wanted to do a team building exercise with Reddick Boseman & Lockhart, you were less than thrilled. The last thing you wanted to do was spend more time with work on your weekend. Especially when you were paired with Bryan. You were not blind, the man was fucking gorgeous and he cropped up in many a fantasy with your battery operated boyfriend. However, his attitude left much to be desired. He would work you and the rest of the paralegal department to the bone. You knew from his bio on the firm website, that he started himself as a paralegal upon graduating from Northwestern Law – you figured he’d be cognizant of how to treat junior staff, probably having been through it himself. Instead, he chose to continue the cycle of asshole treatment. Bryan tried to get out of it himself, but his own boss Gavin Firth told him to make nice and take part – especially if he wanted to keep leading the litigation department and not give it to Diane. Backed into a corner, Bryan reluctantly agreed.

Initially, he had hoped he would be paired with a fellow colleague who he would be able to convince to blow off this event and hit high end bar with. And if not that, he had hoped it was the blonde secretary with big tits two floors down that he could wham, bam, thank you ma’am and then move on from. Instead – he got stuck with you – the mousy senior paralegal. He knew who were – he knew who everyone was. You had worked with him on a few cases before. You were very good at your job but otherwise, left little to the imagination with your baggy, shapeless sacks of dresses and frumpy sweaters. There was no desire for him to try to get under your skirt. Not when there was a bevvy of women and men he could have, just a dial away.

As the elevator went down, Bryan chose to study your profile. Though you were bundled up to the hilt in a white puffer coat and burgundy hat, he could still see your long lashes and lush lips that had a sheen from whatever you put on them. His nose caught the barest whiff of perfume and he had to admit that it smelled lovely. The elevator landed and you walked out first. He was surprised to see a shapely ass under the dark denim fitted jeans you wore.

STR was close to Millennium Park. You both made way through to the ice skating rink, barely a word between you. You were meeting a few other STR/Boseman colleagues and friends from your department who were already there. Bryan paid for the skating rental and soon enough you were both on the ice. You skated towards your friends with ease, leaving the attorney behind, gripping the sides. A look of panic was on his face as he tried to maintain balance. You turned around and let out a derisive laugh before skating back towards him, offering your hand.

“Is the big bad lawyer afraid of a little ice?” You mocked.

“Shut up and leave me alone. I am here, aren’t I? Go back to your friends and go take your pictures. Make fun of me all you want. Come Monday, I am going to bury you all with doc production.” Bryan sneered.

You skated closer to him and offered your hand once more. “Come on, it’s not that hard – watch me.” You stood next to him. “Your knees should always stay slightly bent. That position lowers your center of gravity, stabilizing you. It also helps you to skate without falling. Also, you should always have your weight positioned over your skating leg. One time you’re skating on the right leg, and the next moment on the left one. Every time you switch legs, you must shift your weight so that it’s over the skating leg.”

You demonstrated what you had explained and then repeated it. Bryan looked at you like a deer in headlights. Your lips twitched into a small smile. “Give me your hand.”

Bryan sighed, his breath causing a small puff of air. “Fine.” He grunted and took your hand. Your hand and his hand were encased in gloves and you mourned the idea that you weren’t holding hands bare skin to bare skin. You skated easily and Bryan wobbled a bit behind, but managing to keep pace. However, at one point, another skater flew by catching Bryan off guard and he lost his balance, falling, bringing you down with him.

“Mother fucking cock sucker son of a bitch!” You swore loudly, rubbing the side of your left ankle. “Ugh, I think I twisted it, you jerk!” Tears pricked your eyes.

“You? How about me?” Bryan snapped. “I can’t even get stand up without falling down.”

“Boo hoo asshole.” Two of your friends helped you up and you tried to bear weight but found that you could not. You were helped off the ice and Bryan followed, clambering to get off the ice, using the wall of the rink to help him.

You winced as you remove the skate, examining your ankle. It was starting to swell and the area was tender to touch. Bryan sat next to you, removing his own skates as well.

“How bad is it?” You heard him ask. You looked at him. “It’s sprained.”

For a brief moment, he looked remorseful. And just as quickly as you blinked, it was gone. “I’ll get us a car; I’ll take you home.”

You cocked your brow. “Excuse me, I can get home on my own just fine.” And stubborn as you were, you tried to stand but let out a grimace of pain, plopping back onto the hard bench.

“Let me take you home.” Bryan replied.

“Wonderful.” You seethed. Bryan returned your skates, along with his and brought over you shoes. You smashed your foot into your sneaker as best you could. Bryan offered his arm and begrudgingly, you took it, and limped out of the park. The ride home was uneventful, again with barely any conversation. You hobbled up the stairs rather comically and it was Bryan’s turn to roll his eyes at your pathetic attempt. You yelped as he suddenly picked you up, bridal style.

“What’s your apartment?”

“2D.” You replied mournfully, feeling embarrassed and humiliated that you could barely manage to get around and now you were being carried like a baby. There was a small part of you, however, that squealed inwardly. You clutched onto Bryan, his body solid and warm. He smelled wonderful and you allowed yourself to pretend to be swept away by the handsome lawyer.

**

“I got it from here, you can put me down.” You insisted once you were both inside. You both took off your coats. Bryan swallowed hard – for all the mousy outfits you wore at work, today you wore a form fitting sweater, which showed off the dip of your hip and swells of your tits.

Bryan carefully set you down and sharp pain shot up your leg and you swore again. “Maybe you should see someone.”

“I’ll tape it and ice it,” you reassured Bryan. “I’ll be fine.” This earned you an exasperated sigh. “I will take some ibuprofen,” you added for good measure.

Bryan grumbled in French about you being stubborn as he made way through your apartment. “I heard that, and you’re one to talk,” you replied cheekily, surprising him that you knew another language. Bryan was further surprised at your modest, but overall modern apartment. He liked the exposed brick and thought your small Christmas tree with its large, vintage bulbs was tacky, but charming in a way. He went into your kitchen and rummaged through your freezer, before returning with a bag of frozen peas.

“Put this on your ankle.” Bryan ordered. You took the bag. You propped your ankle onto your coffee table and stuck the bag on. You looked up at him. “I’m good. You can go now – and don’t worry, I’ll be in on Monday. Thanks for the lift.”

Bryan nodded and turned away, making his way back down your hallway. As soon as he did, you attempted to stand and swore loudly once more. Bryan turned on the balls on his feet. “Christ, Y/N, at least wait ‘til I am gone.”

“Wha—hey!” You shouted as he picked you up again, this time over his shoulder, so you were face to his ass. He gave your ass a playful spank and made his way down your other hallway, looking for your bedroom. “Put me down!”

He found it fairly quickly and unceremoniously threw you onto your bed.

“Are you always this stubborn?” He asked, his hands on his hips. He eyed your bedroom. It was small, like the rest of your apartment.

“Are you always a pretentious asshole?” You asked. Finally, you couldn’t stand it any longer. “Why are you being nice to me?”

Bryan didn’t respond. Instead, he sat next to you. “I know everyone thinks I am an asshole.” You snorted and Bryan let out a defeated sigh. “Okay, so I am an asshole. But I am still a fucking person.”

“The devil has feelings?” You covered your mouth and then cringed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

Bryan shrugged. “For all the shit I do, yeah, I do.” He turned to you. “Look, I am sorry that I hurt your ankle. And maybe take Monday off – see a doctor. Don’t worry about it. I will make sure it doesn’t count against your PTO.”

You looked at him and you smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

You were suddenly aware that Bryan was in your bedroom, on your bed. He looked debonair in his burgundy sweater and dark jeans. You could see the dark beard with the tiniest flecks of grey. When he began to massage your foot, you felt desire pool in your most intimate of parts.

“Bryan – I…” You swallowed hard. He looked up at you, his green eyes were intense and he gave the slightest nod to you. You leapt into his lap, ignoring the screaming pain of your ankle and kissed him. Bryan kissed you in return and slipped his tongue into your mouth, seeking and exploring. His hands were over your ass, grabbing at your flesh. He gave you a playful squeeze which earned him a moan from you.

A hand moved up and under your sweater, skillfully unhooking your bra and immediately moving to your breasts. He tugged and twisted a nipple, enjoying how you squirmed in his embrace.

“Let me take care of you,” Bryan replied breaking the kiss. You nodded, panting. You removed your sweater and fished off your bra. His eyes darkened at the sight of your shapely breasts. He couldn’t wait to get his mouth on them.

“Oh yes,” you agreed, practically purring. “I ache.”

Bryan hummed in acknowledgement. He pushed you back onto the bed and helped you out of your jeans. Slowly his hand made its way back under your underwear, along your hip. Your breathing hitched as his hand moved closer to the apex of your thighs. You were already sopping in anticipation.

“You’re so wet,” Bryan noted, a single finger stroking you briefly, before slipping inside. You sighed at the feeling of his finger in you. Encouraging, you pushed your panties to the side allowing him greater access.

Bryan slipped another finger inside of you, his tempo quickening. You began moving against his hand, mewling as he continued his ministrations. His fingers pumped in and out of you faster and faster. You cried out in pleasure. Bryan slowed his momentum before removing his fingers completely. You whimpered in protest and Bryan made a big show of sucking on his fingers. “You are delicious.” Bryan commented and you blushed in response.

Leaning over, he grabbed a pillow and encouraged you to lift your hips, placing the pillow under you. You spread your legs wantonly and unabashedly. Nipping your thighs, Bryan nestled in between your legs, his tongue in your folds, licking you and swirling his tongue on your swollen clitoris. You groaned, and your hands lost themselves in his dark hair, trying to keep him in place. The added feel of his beard along your sensitive skin only heightened your pleasure.

Bryan hummed in agreement and the vibrations sent shockwaves up your body. You arched your back as his tongue flicked on your clitoris as he slipped two fingers back in, all the way deep to the knuckle. Ignoring your aching ankle, your hips rose to meet the thrusts of his fingers. A third finger slipped inside, stretching you.

“Oh shit! Bryan!”

“That’s right, take it.” Bryan whispered. His thumb rubbed your clitoris haphazardly. You like getting fucked by my hand?”

“Yes, fuck, give it to me!” Your legs were shaking. “I am going to cum.” You groaned.

“Not yet.” Bryan grunted. He withdrew his hand and you whined at the lost contact. “Do you have any lube?”

You looked up at him, curious. “Uh, top drawer. Condoms in there too.”

Bryan winked at you and moved off your bed. As he rummaged through your drawer, you eyed the tent in his pants hungrily.

Bryan removed his shirt, leaving his jeans on. Seeing his thick body, with his dusty rose nipples and smattering of chest hair – he was even more hot than you could have imagined. He spread your legs again and dipped his head once more tasting you. You watched as he drizzled lube along your folds and then over his hand. He tucked his thumb into his palm, tapering his fingers and then slowly penetrated you until his entire hand was inside of you.

You let out a sound that was akin to animalistic howl. “Holy shit, holy shit, oh my God!” Bryan began rock his hand back and forth, fucking you with his fist. You felt so full and all you could think – or even say was more, more, more!

“Cum for me,” Bryan growled, his fingers finding that sweet spot that no one else ever had. You sobbed in pleasure and he dipped his head back between your legs and flicked his tongue against your clit. You came hard, shouting his name, grabbing the sheets haphazardly. Bryan continued to pump in and out of you, while looking up at you. A smirk graced his face, and he stroked that sweet spot once more. Your lungs burned as you gasped for air, feeling tremendous pressure and then release as you squirted all over Bryan’s face. Bryan lapped at you through your orgasm until it subsided. Slowly he removed his fist. Moving back up to you, he pushed his fingers into your mouth. “Suck” he ordered. You sucked on his fingers, tasting yourself.

You nipped Bryan’s fingers playfully and he chuckled, removing them. He pressed a kiss on your lips. “Feeling better?”

“Mmmm much,” you replied grinning. Pushing Bryan gently back onto the bed, you climbed onto him. “But I do think more TLC is in order,” you replied taking his hands and placing them on your breasts. “Up to the challenge, Mr. Kneef?”

Bryan winked. “I think I like my odds.”

FIN.

--

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[aka-irish]

Apex Legends: The Top Predator Part 5. Predators to Prey

A blue portal opens up in the center of King’s Canyon. *Thwapew* and in a flash of blue light the Legends all appear lined up, hands on their guns as they await this new foe. The electronic banners in the canyon flicker as the Doctor Traxler’s face appears once more. “Bravo, Legends. I’m glad you made the right choice. I wouldn’t have wanted to set those bombs off, anyway, but I needed an insurance policy. With that said, I wanted to test our new toy. Please...accept my boy as you have any other legend. He does have a bit of a temper” The doctor snidely remarks, a huge grin on his face. The months of laboring research and creation finally coming to fruition for him. “We will stop you” yells Wraith, a finger pointing up at the monitor. “Oh, I doubt that” replies the doctor. “And even if you do, you won’t stop us, for as the wheels turn, we do our part. Now. “The doctor turns to off screen. “Release Darwin!” commands Traxler. “Sir!” says a soldier before hitting a button. A whirring from a door can be heard and the glass tank is released through a hatch in the floor as it launches down from a ship. The Legends look up and in a few moments a large metallic container can be seen descending from the sky. As it approaches the ground below rockets kick in to slow the fall. Upon landing it begins smoking as the air pressure begins releasing, and upon opening, the glass tank can be seen with Darwin in it. The tank drains and opens and the large body falls out onto his knees inside the metal hatch. “Hrr..hrrrr.hrrrr” a mix of deep breathing and seething can be heard coming him, as his powerful lungs expand and inhale for the first time on their own. The muscles twitch and flex as he begins to stand up, his massive frame almost too overshadowing the tank behind, making one wonder how he could have fit inside it. He stands up and eyes the legends. Steel grey eyes locked on the band of warriors as his teeth grit. “HrrRRWAAHHHHHH” roars the abomination of man. “Play nice, Legends.HAAHHA” the doctor laughs before his signal cuts out and the monitors display the fight. Darwin steps forth. 

“Hmph” Crypto quickly breathes as he throws out Hack “I’ll keep Hack open to provide any data scans in case things go south.” states the Korean hacker. “Good” replies Bangalore. “Oh my God, enough talking. Let’s bake this freak. RAPIDO!” bursts out Octane as he injects himself with a stim and charges the creature solo. “SILVA, NO!’ cries out Lifeline as the daredevil runs full speed at Darwin. “Catch me if you can, pendejo! Octane aims his mastiff shotgun at the beast of a man and he begins to unload a buckshot. The spray from the powerful gun land directly at the chest of the 6′6 bald, monster. *Tink* a small shield absorbs most of the shots. “Shielded up, eh? No matter. I’ll whittle you down, you can’t catch me” says Oct as he stims up again, the brash stuntman remarks happily, loving the thrill of the challenge. Darwin lashes a monstrous arm out, swinging at the speedster but he misses. “Oooo..gonna have to do better than that. yehehehahahah!” he laughs. Darwin swings again, misses, but becomes a bit closer. Octane fires another shot, the bullets once again absorbed by the energy shield. Darwin leaps at him and Octane slides under him. “Those muscles make ya slow, haha!” He jumps up and throws a kick at his face. The robotic legs kick off Darwin’s face, not even staggering him. “GRAHHHHHH!” he roars in annoyance as he lashes out once more. BA-THOOM BATHOOM BATHOOM, one of Darwin’s massive hearts begins to thunder and accelerate...BATHOOMBATHOOMBATHOOM, the second heart begins to beat faster and harder. As the two other hearts begin to catch up and speed up, Darwin begins moving even faster. He throws a wild punch as it grazes Octane’s mask. “The hell?” he wonders, the sudden surge in speed surprising him as a second fist connects to his stomach. “GAH!” he cries out in pain, never having been hit with such force in his life. He gets sent flying back as he coughs up blood in his mask. “HKHKHKHK!” he can’t breathe in the mask as he chokes on the blood. Darwin accelerates towards him, the added hearts pumping so fast in a way that his body is able utilize more oxygen to speed up his muscles to match even Octane. A blue portal opens up instantly between Octane and Darwin as a blue energy shield pops out to absorb the force. “Tch..you’re a strong one, huh” Gibraltr pops out of Wraith’s portal with his shield up. Wraith, having led the portal, grabs Octane and jumps back through, leaving the human fortress to fight the behemoth of Pinnacle. Gibraltr smiles as he his shield up and Maori club in his free hand. The shield absorbing the angry blows of Darwin and he counters with a massive club strike the face in an opening. The energy shield again absorbing the blow but the mighty Makoa, even being able to chop trees in a single stroke, merely knocks the monster’s head back slightly. BATHOOMBATHOOMBATHOOM, the powerful connection of hearts begin to surge again as Darwin throws his blows faster, as he starts to overwhelm Gibby. “Damn..I’ve never faced anyone like you before” Gibby says with a smile on his face as his wild side starts to show. “GRAAHHHH!” Darwin screams. The massive fists colliding with the shield as it shatters. Makoa reaches behind and pulls out his favored Eva-8 automatic shotgun, he points it point blank at Darwin’s stomach and begins pumping in all 8 rounds. Each explosive shot manages to push Darwin back for some space, but the shield reduces the damage once again.

 Meanwhile, Wraith having appeared back with the group puts Octane down by Lifeline. “He’s hurt bad. Whatever that thing is can throw a punch” points out the Voidwalker. “I got him. Go help, Makoa” says Lifeline as she hooks DOC to him to help heal him. Wraith nods before heading back to the portal and jumps in. She ports back out just as Gibraltr gained some space with his EVA. “I don’t know what kinda shield this thing has, but my gun ain’t cutting it Wraith” Gibby remarks as he loads a new drum into his shotgun. Wraith just nods as she finally confronts the nightmare from the base. She pulls out her alternator and leaps in, flipping over the charging monster, firing rapid shots as the bullets just burn through in the shield, Gibby combining with her his Eva. Darwin staggers around, clearly feeling some pain but showing little to no effect of slowing down. “AYE! GET BACK, MATES! FIRIN’ ME KNUCKLECLUSTER!” yells Fuse as he rushes in, firing his signature grenades. “HRUUUUUUUUU!!” Darwin yells in pain at the explosions. “Let’s see how you deal with Salvo’s finest!” smiles the Bonecage Brawler. His 30-30 repeater locked right onto Darwin. The charged shots clinking against the energy armor. “Bloody hell, what’s this?” he questions as Gibby and Wraith both fire. “We don’t know. It’s not an Evo shield I’ve ever seen. “Well..just keep firin then��� Fuse’s face turns serious from the fun loving fighting expression that he is known for. The Legends seemingly having the monster on the ropes for the moment. “Why can’t we go in? Lemme at the brute!” blurts out Rampart. “Because, we don’t know what he can do and look what happened when one of us charged in. Silva is out of commission in almost one hit. Guns don’t seem to be working all too well either. As Wraith, Gibby and Fuse continue their advancement, Darwin swings wildly once again. BATHOOMBATHOOMBATHOOMBATHOOM, his hearts accelerating even faster, he charges forward and lands a massive fist to the face of Gibraltr between reloads, ignoring the shots from the other two. “AGH!” Gibby screams out in pain as he flies back, blood spraying immediately from his nose. Lands on the ground with a hard thud. ‘AGHRAARUUUU!’ roars Darwin again, as he swings around and turns his attention to Wraith and Fuse. Gibby staggers himself, the normally proud and happy disposition on his face is turned to, for the first time in a long time, doubt. “Damn” he whispers under his breath and he charges again. *click click click* Wraith’s gun clicks. “Oh no..I;m out” she thinks to herself. She pulls her kunai. “I’m going to phase guys!” she teleports as she ports around and jumps up to climb his distracted shoulders as she goes for a stab to his neck with her kunai. The blade bouncing off the shield...”oh no..” she stutters as Darwin reaches up and powerbombs her into the ground so hard it almost cracks. “Ghuhh!” Wraith bounces against stone and sand as the air immediately leaves her lungs, her body wracked with pain. 

Aboard the Pinnacle ship, Traxler looks on in intent amazement at his creation. The metallic doors open as Colonel Braxton makes his presence known. “You’ve done outstanding work, Doctor” remarks Braxton, his hands held behind as back as he watches the carnage of Pinnacle’s creation. “It really is incredible, isn’t it, Colonel?” questions the sociopath. “We have really done it, we have created the perfect soldier. We have played God here and are winning” he follows up, putting a hand on the Colonel’s shoulder. “And none of it would be possible without your leadership, sir. I hope we may continue to do business with each other.” “And I as well”, replies Braxton as both return to their gaze to the battle below. “Wraith is down! Horizon, retrieve her as quick as possible. Gibs! How is it hanging in there?” questions Bangalore amidst the chaos and commands. Gibraltr throws his dome shield over Wraith as he knocks the even bigger man back out of it. “Not good, Anita. This thing is tough and I don’t know how much more we can hold off” he admits through gritted teeth. A gravity disk is thrown by Wraith and sucks her up to her the Scottish scientist that is Horizon. “No dyin today, deary. We can take a wee nap later” she caringly mutters to the downed Wraith. “And up” Horizon launches another disk and floats back up to the group, landing softly and laying her down by Octane. “Horizon...Wattson...Valkyrie...Caustic, we need to hit him with everything we have, but it’s going to take and timing and work. Ajay, you continue providing care to Oct and Wraith. Loba, Mirage, I need you to go help Gibraltr and get Fuse back up here, we need his Motherlode. We only have one shot at this, guys” Bangalore sternly states before turning to look at Rampart. “P, can you set Sheila up and provide some suppressive fire?”she asks the modded machine gunner. “Can do, girl” Rampart whips around her massive minigun before slapping it a couple times. “Alright, girl, we got a big, mutant skull to crack.” she jollily chortles before running off to set up. “Mirage to the rescue. Dupes deployed” yells Mirage as he charges after the creature, his dupes appearing and running at it. Loba tosses her ring and lands in behind the creature as it continues to throw massive fists with Gibraltr. “Take this you sonofabitch” Loba roars through her teeth as she pulls out the R-99 and begins unloading the rapid clip at Darwin. “GAAAHGRRUUUUHHH” it yells as it now has dupes, Gibraltr, Mirage and Loba fighting. Loba flips between fists and kicks as dupes disappear from being hit while Mirage sets back, unloading his signature Wingman. The high caliber rounds knocking back the beast as it staggers but still seems unaffected due to the modded energy shield. “Bullets don’t see to be working, guys” Mirage remarks as he sends another dupe, Loba continuing to leap and unload clip after clip  with Gibby jumping in with his shotgun. “Fuse, return back” commands Bangalore over the earpiece. “Right” he returns and starts running back, catching the gaze of Darwin. “RAAGHH” he roars as he charges after him. As he does, a hailstorm of bullets comes from atop a cliff as Rampart rains down SHEILA at him. “Take this ya bloody bastard HAHAHA” she laughs manically in delight at the fight. As the barrage of high-caliber bullets hit him, the shield seems to almost crack. 

“Good, P. Keep it going” compliments “Rest of you, GO!” screams the former IMC soldier as the remaining legends rush down the hill. “Gibs, Mirage, and Loba. Get back!” they hear Bangalore bark. Mirage dupes, and Loba jump drives away. Bangalore launches a smokebomb at Darwin, it explodes confusing the almost frozen monster with Rampart shooting him. Rampart stops as Valkyrie flies by, dropping her missiles to stun him for a few moments. “Deploying fences” excitedly states Wattson as she slides down, putting up a square of super charged fences around the monster. “RAGHHHH” Darwin can be heard screaming inside the smoke cloud, lashing out but cringing back in pain due to the electric posts of the genius Ms. Paquette. “Singularity deployed” yells Horizon as she throws NEWT at him. The device opening and unleashing the gravitational pull, keeping Darwin centered. “Droppin the motherlode” as it’s Fuse’s turn to pull out his cannon as he launches the flaming ring over Darwin, the shield absorbing more and more damage, but despite that, Darwin can feel the heat and charge, yelling out in pain. “Gas grenade” calmly states Caustic as he throws his gas grenade. It explodes on contact, releasing the venomous mist inside. The powerful lungs of Darwin inhale the spray and begins choking, his lungs and extra hearts working overtime to metabolize and compensate for the poison. “Bangalore up top pops up a can of her rolling thunder before launching it. “Everyone, get in Gibby’s shield. We end this now” she yells. Gibraltr throws up his dome shield as the signal flare calling for the missiles to drop and line the ground around Darwin. “RUUUUUUAAAAHH!” he screams in the searing agony of the combined ultimates of the Legends. The missiles detonate leaving Darwin to get caught in the explosions, his energy shield reaching maximum capacity and finally cracking, as dust and sand, and gunpowder fills the air, engulfing him. Gibby’s shield finally fading. “Did we win?” asks Mirage, the other legends staring sternly at the dust cloud. 

“Sir, Darwin’s shield has been cracked!” a soldier at a monitor reports out. “And how is Darwin?” calmly asks the doctor. “He appears to have sustained minimal damage, but damage nonetheless” he reads back. “To be expected” states the doctor. “These are the legends after all, but I think it’s time we end this. Activate Darwin’s Cardiac Connection ultimate and drop the Devotions kit” he orders. The soldier nods as he pulls open a switch and hits the read button over Darwin’s screen. Another soldier pulls a lever as a container is launched from the drop ship, plummeting towards the arena. BATHOOM...BATHOOM...BATHOOM, Darwin’s three extra hearts begin beating in different rhythms. *Thoom-thoomp..thoom-thoomp...thoom.thoomp..THOOMthumpthump...thoomthom* Loba winces immediately yelling out in pain as she drops to her knees, hands clutching at her breast. Darwin’s 2nd heart *thoomp-thmp--thoomp-thmp..thmmpp..thmppthmp..BUMP* Mirage drops to his knees, clutching his chest, seething in agony. *BMPBMPBMP..bmp-bmpbummppthump* Rampart falls from SHEILA, hand almost ripping at her shirt. Darwin’s hearts beat rapidly and flail while the hearts of the three legends match them. “What’s going on!?” yells a confused Bangalore. Valkyrie puts an ear down on the convulsing Loba’s breast “THOMMP...thoompthumpthump...thmph......thmph” it’s like shes having a heart attack!” she cries out. “What the hell!? Is this thing still alive or did they cheat us again!?” Bangalore looks as the dust finally settles, and there is Darwin still standing, clutching an arm, cuts across his face, and body, blood dripping down an arm.” RAAAAAHHGHH” he roars, angrier than ever. The previous drop package from Pinnacle lands down in front of him. It opens and out pop two, fully kitted devotions. “Heheh..eheh” breathes out Darwin..almost as if he’s laughing. He reaches in and grabs the guns and aims them at the still standing Legends. Darwin pulls the trigger as the devotions fire their super heavy and powerful spray of energy rounds. The bullets shredding the shields of the Legends and knocking them. “GAH! aGH!” they can all be heard screaming except for one. The whole team, tired and exhausted from their almost fruitless efforts. Lifeline and Crypto, having been support run down, charging the monster as he shoots them down almost as quickly as they came to attack. Bangalore stands atop from her position...eyes wide and stunned at the events that transpired. The heroes...the Legends..the comrades and fighting family before her, all taken out by one person..one thing. She walks down the hill towards Darwin, the devotions hanging at his sides still smoldering before dropping them. She stands toe to toe with him, staring up at his cold, souless yet vicious, steel eyes. “Bastard” she mutters before aiming her G7 Scout at his face, he swats an arm at her, the massive fist connecting with the side of her head. She gets sent several feet away from the impact. 

The drop ship lands and a hatch opens before extending a walkway. Doctor Traxler and a few soldiers, armed with guns up, follow him out as they head towards Darwin, a sick smile spread across his face as he looks at the fallen bodies of the Legends that lay at his feet. “I’d say our experiment was a success, Colonel” cockily states the Doctor. “Good. Bring him” responds the Colonel. “Very well” says Traxler as he directs his attention to the soldiers. “Begin the retrieval process” he barks out as the soldiers head towards Darwin, wrangling him towards the ship. Traxler looks down at the nearly unconscious Bangalore. Anita looks up, and through foggy eyes, she sees that smile before he heads back to the ship. All she can hear, aside from the ringing in her ears, the ship engines firing up and the slow thudding of her own heart beating as she finally slips into unconsciousness. 

[ificouldhelpyouforget]

New Passion: Part 2 (Spike Spiegel x OC)

MASTERLIST | COWBOY BEBOP MASTERLIST

A/N: I know it’s been awhile and I’m sorry. It’s finally here though! It’s not the Christmas one I hoped to get out (not sure if I should hold off until next Christmas now), but it’s the last part of ‘New Passion’ and that’s pretty cool. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this part!

Summary: Vida is all better and Spike has something special for her to celebrate.

Warnings: Spike is probably ooc and there are some steamy bits toward the end (nothing too graphic); oh and a cuss word or two

Words: 2.2k

"I'd say you're good to return to your usual activities, Miss Bell."

Vida grinned. "Really? Like, I can start exercising again?"

"I'd say so," the doctor chuckled. "But if you have to fight a bounty, be careful. A hit in on one of your nearly healed spots could do more damage."

"That makes sense."

"I know. Now take care of yourself and stay out of trouble."

"I'll try. Thanks, Doc. Have a good day!"

The same sentiment was sent her way as Vida left the room with a hop in her steps. The moment she stepped out of the building to find a certain handsome bounty hunter leaning against the Swordfish, Vida's skips turned into a sprint. He barely caught sight of her before she leaped into his arms and pressed her smiling lips to his.

"I guess it went well," Spike murmured while she continued kissing him until he placed her back on the ground.

"I got the 'all clear!' I can do all the things I used to do minus bounty hunting... Are you absolutely sure you don't want me hunting anymore?"

"Yes. You're more helpful than Jet as our guardian angel."

"Aw. You think I'm an angel?"

Spike tapped her head. "Yeah, with horns to hold up your halo."

"Life's more fun when you mingle naughty and nice."

"Hm."

Her eyes shined as she stared up at Spike. The longer he held her gaze, the more her heart raced. Being told she could live life normally again gave her a new sense of freedom. Vida was herself again.

"Care to have dinner with me?"

"Don't I always eat with you, Spike?"

"This is special. To celebrate, I guess. Only us."

"Okay. I would love to have dinner with you. Where'd you get the woolongs for it?"

He put a cigarette between his lips but didn't light it. "Saving, asking Jet for help, and suffering with half a cigarette every day." That was when he pulled his lighter out.

"You didn't have to do that. Not for me."

Spike shrugged like it wasn't an inconvenience.

"Thank you, Spike." She pulled the cigarette from Spike's lips and stood on her toes to kiss him before whispering the three words she hadn't been able to stop saying since the night she revealed how deep her feelings ran.

His arms circled her waist before she could slip away and he kissed her hard. Her breath flew away and she nearly dropped his still smoking cigarette. Spike smirked and took it back, climbing into the Swordfish.

To say Vida was disappointed Spike didn't repeat the words back to her was an understatement. She assumed he'd tell her as soon as she left the doctor's office. Little did she know, Spike had a plan in mind.

•

Dinner went well. Spike took Vida to a hole-in-the-wall BBQ place with decent prices considering the amount of food they ate. Spike ended up eating all of his meal while Vida had to take a portion of hers home.

The lanky man carried Vida's food for her and took her hand in his free one. When he started walking in the direction opposite the Bebop, Vida tugged on his hand.

"The ship's the other way, Spike."

"Did I say we're going back there yet?"

"No." Vida chewed on her bottom lip. "Where are we going then?"

"You'll see."

A few minutes later – and a few laughs later – Spike stopped in front of a fairly ritzy hotel for Mars. Vida's eyes grew and her mouth fell open. A smirk appeared on his face.

"Wait. Did you... Are we staying here?"

"One night. No Jet. No Faye. A real bed and no metal walls." Spike leaned closer to her. "An entire night where we can do whatever we want."

"You're pretty romantic aren't you?" Vida squeezed his hand.

He huffed, the apples of his cheeks turning slightly pink. "Just come on."

Obediently, Vida followed Spike to the front desk and to their room all while bouncing on her toes. As soon as the door opened, Vida took off and leaped into the air. She landed on the bed spread-eagle. "Oh, this feels wonderful. It's been so long."

The door clicked shut as Spike chuckled. "Think we can get Jet to replace our beds?"

"Yeah right. Neither one of you would want to waste the money when good steak is available."

Vida turned her head to see Spike take his jacket off and drape it over a chair. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, giving her a lovely view of his arm muscles at work. "You're so handsome, Spike."

He paused and looked at her, eyes blinking like it was news to him. "I just took my jacket off."

"Uh-huh. And you look nice. I figured I'd tell you like the many times before." Vida tilted her head and smiled. "Are you nervous, Spike?"

"No."

"Are trying to figure out how to say something to me?"

"Again, no." He rolled his eyes and emptied his pant pockets.

"You don't have to make it a spectacle. Just say it." Vida rolled off the bed to stand in front of him. "It's not too hard. Scary, but not difficult. We both know how we feel." She tugged on his tie. "Repeat after me: I. Love. You. I love you. Easy."

Spike looked unamused.

"Do I need to say it first? I will if you need me to."

"Cut it out!"

"You don't have to tell me any specific way."

Spike turned away from her and pouted."

Vida kissed his cheek. "You're more of a romantic than I am and it's sweet. How about you think on it while I take a shower, okay?"

He didn't react, making her giggle.

"Be back soon, Spike."

•

Vida didn't bother washing her hair mostly because she didn't want to deal with waiting for it to dry. It wasn't worth the hassle.

Wondering if Spike brought any sleep clothes for her to change into, Vida opened the door to ask, a towel wrapped around her. She didn't expect the man to stop dead in the middle of the doorway. Her lips parted to speak, but he moved faster.

Spike pulled her into his arms where he started kissing her as if his life depended on it, trapping her between himself and the wall. With one arm, he lifted her higher, allowing her to wrap her legs around his waist. Vida felt her towel slipping and went to grab for it, but Spike pinned that hand above her head. Her head spun too much to fight against him.

When they both finally needed air, Vida chuckled and kissed the end of his nose. "What an unexpected way to leave the bathroom. I wouldn't be opposed to making this a regular thing."

With a gentle touch, Spike released her hand and traced the line of her jaw. Vida closed her eyes, relishing the caress, and placed her palm against his chest. She angled her neck as his fingers trailed downward and across her shoulder. The soft press of his lips against her forehead made her sigh.

"I love you."

Her eyes opened and a smile lit up her flushed face. "I love you, too."

Spike pressed his face into her shoulder where his hand fell from and he hugged her close. Any feelings of lust she had in the moment floated away when his arms circled her waist. She carefully stood on her feet and ran her fingers through his fluffy hair. His lips briefly touched her skin.

Vida expected Spike to take her to bed the moment he said he loved her. That was – in a sense – the deal they made. But to have him embrace her, hide against her as if it took everything in him to say it made her truly feel the love he wanted to convey. It was more than the physical act.

"Thank you," she whispered, rubbing his back. Vida nuzzled his shoulder with her cheek.

He left a second kiss closer to her neck before Spike lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. Spike laid Vida down, kissing her lips, and sitting up to look at her.

For the first time, Vida felt nervous – albeit in a good way. She watched his eyes study every inch of her flesh as he tugged away her towel. She almost wanted to cover herself but refrained.

Goosebumps rose across her skin when his hand rested on her belly, palm flat. Everywhere his hand went, the bumps followed. It was as if he was memorizing her.

"We've done this a lot, Spike," she breathed just as he placed a second hand on her, running both across her legs. "You know everything about my body."

He leaned over her and kissed her lips. "Not like this."

Warmth settled in her abdomen. A long and quiet moan slipped out of her mouth. Spike smirked against her lips before he continued his exploration. But he wasn't finished once his hands reached her feet. His lips still needed their turn.

Vida had no control over the short sound that came from her the second his breath neared where she ached for him most. When his lips touched, her whole body twitched, making her laugh and cover her mouth. "You're going to kill me before the night is over."

Spike planted a kiss below her belly button before resuming his exploration down her legs. And when he was done, he sat back on his feet and tugged Vida closer by her ankles. She squealed and sat up when her thighs pressed against his knees.

"This is extremely unfair," Vida said, bending her knees under her to straddle his lap. "I'm completely naked and you're still sitting her dressed."

"I'm not done yet." Spike nibbled on the flesh of her neck, one hand pressing her close to him. The other stroked the length of her thigh, from her knee to her hip and back. "Don't you want me to love you right?"

Vida groaned out a curse, relaxing completely against him.

Spike dared to chuckle. "That's what does it for you now?"

Vida stared, eyes dark and need. "When I have you, Spike Spiegel, the man who doesn't talk about how he feels often if at all, using the word 'love' casually. I get to hear how much I mean to you when you use that single word... So, yeah. That does it for me now." She ran her hand across his chest. "That and everything else about you. I love you."

A low hum rumbled in Spike's chest and he smiled. He laid Vida back down, hovering over her. "What should I do first, hm?"

She blinked. "Like... with you? Or me?"

"What should I do first?"

"Get undressed. Please, and thank you."

With a quick roll of his eyes and a smirk, Spike sat up and undid his tie, staring at Vida watching him. Her fingertips trailed along her stomach as he removed each article of clothing, pausing momentarily when he stood up to remove his pants and boxer.

"Now what?"

"Come here and let me do what you did for me."

Chuckling, Spike purposely crawled over her – leaving a kiss on a scar across her abdomen – and lay beside her. His eyes stayed on her while she gave him similar attention. His leg twitched and stomach muscles tensed when her hand gave extra attention to the appendage between his legs. Under his breath, he let out a groan the moment her lips fluttered by moments later. Vida ended her adventure with several kisses to his lips, straddling his waist to do so.

"Anything else I can do for you?" Spike asked, nibbling on her earlobe. Both of his hands settled on her waist to keep her still above him.

"Make love to me?"

Spike flipped her onto her back, his mouth on hers and tongue slipping between her lips. The sweet sound she made urged him forward, a low promise given to her when they pulled away from each other.

Knowing how deeply their love ran changed their sounds, their movements. Despite his eagerness, Spike took his time meeting with her, his lips never leaving her skin for more than a couple of seconds. The louder her moans became, the more feeling he put behind everything he did. But before either could completely lose themselves to their pleasure, they switched, Vida sitting atop him and using the same deliberate motions.

The first time they finished, Spike left lazy kisses on Vida's head, enjoying the weight of her spent body on him. Quiet mewls mixed with her heavy breaths while she tucked her arms under her as if settling in for a nap. Her flesh seemed to buzz as Spike ran his fingers up and down her spine. Vida refused to move even after her breath evened out.

Spike eventually rolled her off to detach from her, happily pulling her back into his arms so she could curl up against him.

Vida hummed and tucked her nose under his jaw. "That was well worth the wait." She drew shapes on his chest. "Thank you for tonight, Spike. It's been perfect."

"I'm not done with you yet, Vida."

"Mmm, good. Maybe we can take full advantage of the shower since we don't have any nosy roommates to bother us."

"Sounds fun."

"Don't let me fall."

"That's hard to do when you've already fallen for me."

Vida giggled, lifting her head to give him a sweet kiss. "I have fallen pretty hard for you, cowboy. I'm not sure I'll ever recover."

Spike's hand tangled in her hair to bring her back to his lips. The longer they kissed, the more they touched and shifted against each other. It wasn't long before Spike had Vida on her back with her legs draped over his shoulders.

The rest of the night continued similarly. They'd meet in passion, rest, meet again in a new way, rest, and so on. It wasn't until the early morning hours – after a steamy bout in the shower – when the couple crashed for the night, arms wrapped around each other as if they'd disappear.

Spike smiled to himself before sleep took him, picking up the mumbled words from Vida. Another reminder her heart was completely his. It was something far more precious than beef in his stirfry.

[overheardatthecontinental]

John Wick Gift Exchange

I had: @meetmeinthematinee​

There’s something about coming home to someone. It feels warm and good and right and, totally and completely, unfamiliar.

The sun has already long since set when John pulls into his garage. A by-product of December. A time of year that has, in all honesty, never made much sense to John. Truly, it doesn’t affect him much. There’s always someone to kill, no matter what month it is.

All December means for John is the nights are longer, so it’s easier to kill. Idly, he recognizes that there are decorations fucking everywhere. Even the Continental bought in with a giant tree in the lobby that had Charon fretting over getting pine needles everywhere. But that was it. 

He’d never really celebrated any holidays before Helen.

Thanksgiving had been… terrifying. Between Helen’s mother finding out he’d never celebrated Thanksgiving and deciding that John needed a crash course and Helen’s sixteen year old niece who kept making eyes at him for an entire weekend… well, holidays are definitely not his thing. 

Thank fuck she had promised no family for Christmas. He would have gone if she had asked, wouldn’t have even put up a fight. Her mercy is the greatest gift of all.

She still wanted to celebrate, but this time, it would only be them.

She'd taken time off work, too. The days leading up to the holiday as well as the week between Christmas and New Years. It was easy enough for him to turn down any contracts during that time.

Ten days with nowhere to be, with nothing to think about except Helen.

Still weeks away and he could barely stand the thrill of just being with her.

He was excited.

Excited was new, a feeling he hadn’t fully learned to process.

Like when Helen got home from work early or when she texted him that she missed him during the day. 

John parks his car next to Helen's SUV and revels in how good it feels to come home to her.

It's barely six when he walks into the house. Her baking makes his house smell like cookies.

And John has never been one for sweets but nothing smells better than coming home to Helen establishing herself in his kitchen.

He slips his suit jacket off as well as the Kevlar, draping both over the couch, and tossing his keys to the bowl in the hall as he walks by. 

John stops in the doorway of the kitchen, taking in the sight before him.

Her dark hair was braided back and out of her face and, somehow, still dusted with flour. She wears a dark green apron, the sleeves of her sweater pushed up past her elbows as she rolls out dough on his counter.

“It smells great in here.” 

She shoots a glance over her shoulder, taking in the sight of him.

His suit is a bit rumpled and his target’s blood stain is bright against the white of his shirt. Thank fuck that the rest of it blends in with his suit. He’s certain there’s blood on his face and in his hair but he and Helen are past the point of John rushing to shower and hiding his clothes; past the point of Helen pretending not to notice.

She shakes her head, turning back to where she was rolling out “You better not be getting any blood in my kitchen, John Wick!”

He has to remember to breathe at the way she claims it as hers.

“Your kitchen, huh?” He says, ignoring her, stalking around the counter.

“Learn to bake and I’ll consider sharing.” She tells him, stepping back from the cookie dough and towards the counter behind her. “I mean it, John. No blood near my foo--”

He backs her against the stone countertop and catches her face between his hands, bending down to quiet her with a kiss.

Her lips are soft and sweet, the taste of sugar cookies lingering on tongue. She hums against him. He nibbles on her lip as he pulls away.

Opening her eyes, Helen shoots him a harmless glare, “OSHA did not certify that!”

He snorts, a hand falling from her face and trailing down her arm until he entwines their fingers together.

"I'm not going to apologize."

Her lips twitch and then she smiles, reaching up and pushing back a lock of hair out of his face.

"Not your blood?"

He shakes his head and Helen nods.

“Injuries?”

“None.”

Aside from various Continental doctors, no one had ever really assessed him before. And while Doc was phenomenal, he didn’t exactly show the love and adoration that Helen did. 

She nods again, “Good.” Her hand comes up and idly plays with the edge of his vest, “I was thinking, maybe tonight we could get a Christmas tree?”

She looks up at him, almost like she expects him to say no or put up a fight. Silly girl, he thinks. There’s not a thing he can deny her.

“Alright.”

Helen beams at him. On tiptoes, she reaches up and kisses his bearded cheek. “Go wash up. I’ll have cookies ready for you when you come downstairs. I left you something on the bed to wear.”

He steals one last kiss before leaving her in peace.

A Christmas tree. 

He’s still not entirely sure of its purpose other than a place to leave presents.

And, fuck, that was another thing.

Presents.

Not that Helen wasn’t exceedingly easy to buy for, but this was important to her. She was changing decades of tradition to spend Christmas with him, and only him. Everything had to be perfect.

He strips down and showers, quickly.

He can only imagine what she has planned for them. 

The outfit, like she had said, is laid out on the bed.

The jeans and the plain t-shirt are fine. It’s what he tends to wear when he’s not going out to kill. But the grey sweater, with white reindeer on the front, surrounded by patterns of holly branches and snowflakes was ridiculous.

Fuck.

He dresses, in everything else, but forgos the sweater, carrying it downstairs over his arm rather than putting it on.

“Hels!” He calls as he reaches the bottom of the stairs and swings into the kitchen. “What the hell is this?”

He raises the sweater up for inspection as he walks into the kitchen.

She looks up from where she is lifting the shapes she had cut into the dough and placing them on a baking tray. “That’s an ugly Christmas sweater.”

John nods once, “Okay. So you know it’s ugly?”

She shoots him a look, “It’s a thing!”

“Ugly sweaters are a thing?” He asks skeptically.

“Mhmm. I have a box of them under my bed. Which reminds me, we’re going to need to stop at my place so I can pick up my holiday decorations.”

He tries not to wince as she says my place.

John likes it better when the ownership in her language refers to what he thinks of now as their home.

Before Helen, relationships hadn’t really been a thing. He’d never considered bringing another person into his house, his space. Hell, half the people he considered friends had never seen his house. Or knew its address.

“When are we leaving?”

She slips the tray into the oven. “Twelve minutes.”

John walks over to the rack of cookies cooling and takes one. 

He’s never been one for such treats. Too sweet for his palate but he still found himself trying everything that she baked.

“Good?” she asks, wiping off the counter.

“Perfect.” John holds up the sweater, “So, do I really have to wear this?” 

“You don’t have to do anything.” Helen tells him, “But I think you’d look very sexy in a sweater.”

“Oh, do you?”

“Mhmm. Might even have to suck you off.”

John nearly chokes on the cookies, “Are you serious?”

Helen smirks at him, undoing the tie of her apron and pulling it off. “Put on the sweater and find out.”

He swallows what’s left of the cookie and wastes no time in slipping the sweater over his head. It’s ridiculous, he thinks again, noting the rows of holly and snowflakes that wrap around each of his arms. 

Helen steps over, setting her now folded apron on the counter behind him.

She inclines her head, standing on tiptoes. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips before she kisses him. Softly, gently.

She hums, “You taste sweet.”

Her hands run down his chest, the flat of his stomach, reaching for his belt.

Helen holds his eyes in hers, undoing the latch of his belt with a small smirk. She opens it before snapping the button, her fingers making quick work of the zipper as she drops to her knees.

She slips her hand into his pants, her fingers wrapping along his hardening length as she pulls him out. Helen leans forward, her tongue tracing the underside of his cock.

John takes a sharp breath as her tongue swirls around his tip.

Her wet mouth runs along him, coating him in her spit all around. Her hand, at the base of his cock, moves in tandem with her mouth.

 She circles his tip again before sucking him into her mouth.

He grips the counter behind him as she moans against him, the vibrations making him impossibly harder.

Helen angles her head and pushes her mouth up, taking him as far as she can before dragging her mouth slowly back down his length. Her tongue, all the while, teasing him. 

“Fuck!” He swears, a hand flying to her head of it’s own accord. His fingers entwine in her dark hair, pulling her closer. She whimpers on his cock, bobbing up and down under his new guidance.

Her hands wrap around his thighs, using him as leverage to take him, swallowing him down and into her throat.

The noise that leaves him isn’t entirely human and it propels her. Her throat seems to close around him as she quickens her pace, looking up at him all the while. Her large brown eyes watering as he starts to tense.

He forces his eyes to stay open as he reaches the height of pleasure, cumming down her throat as she swallows him down.

When he has released, she slowly sucks her way down his length.

She comes off his cock with a slight pop, licking her lips as she does.

John tugs her hair as she slips back to her feet and he leans down, kissing her. He can taste his own salty flavor on her tongue, mixed with the sweetness of her Christmas cookies.

His free hand slides down her body, towards her core, but Helen breaks the kiss, stepping away playfully.

“Uh-uh.” She tells him, slipping just out of his reach.

“I can’t touch you?” He asks, stepping closer.

“That depends.” She teases, “We have a lot to do tonight. If you’re good, maybe you’ll get a present later tonight.”

“Is the present your pussy?”

Helen smiles, “You’d have to be a very good boy.”

“I can be good.”

On tiptoes, Helen reaches up and kisses the corner of his mouth. “I know you can. Be a dear and go grab my purse. The cookies are almost done.”

…

They take her SUV. There’s far more space in her car than in his and, though John doesn’t say it, he didn’t want to explain to Aurelio that he got scratches on the roof of his car from a pine tree.

It doesn’t take long at Helen’s apartment to grab her Christmas decorations. Conveniently, they’re already packed in boxes from the previous years. 

She changes into a Christmas sweater. It has a kitten playing with an ornament and says “Meowy Christmas” in gold letters.

Ridiculous, John thinks, but adorable.

Miracle of miracles, she doesn't insist on cutting their own tree at the tree farm. Instead, she picks one that is already cut and conveniently packaged for travel.

It’s a bizarre tradition, John thinks, but says nothing. It’s worth it for the way she bounces excitedly as they strap it to the roof of her car. 

She plays Christmas music on the radio and her hand rests on his thigh as they drive.

When they get home, she transfers the music to his TV and giggles when John realizes that there are a trail of pine needles leading from the door to the living room.

“You do this every year?” John asks in disbelief.

Helen nods, closing the space between them. Her arms wind around his neck and she smiles softly, “If you hate the live tree, I promise next year we can get an artificial one. They don’t smell as good, but it won’t make a mess.”

John tries not to react at the implication that there will be a next year.

He is still waiting for the other shoe to drop. For something to become too much for her. For someone better to come along.

She rises to give him a kiss before she releases him, opening the boxes of ornaments on his couch and removing a layer of newspaper padding.

“First thing is first,” she instructs him, taking several bound packs of lights. “You need to test each of these strands by plugging them in. If a few aren’t lit, that’s fine. But if more than a few don’t work, they can just be trashed.”

John nods and takes them over to and outlet. One by one, he tests the strands as Helen opens the other boxes of decorations. He sees the flash of tinsel being unpacked as he plugs in another strand, watching them all turn bright.

He unplugs and tests the next set and he can hear her humming along to the tune.

When all the strands are tested, he stands back up, taking the bundles to Helen.

“Next, we start stringing them on the tree.”

“All six?”

“No, I want to save at least two for the banister and another for the courtyard.” She takes the other strands over to the tree and begins fussing over the branches, fluffing them out before plugging in the first set of lights.

“Stand on that side of the tree, love.”

John follows her instructions, pushing up the sleeves on his sweater. Helen begins to weave the lights through the evergreen and hands him the string.

“And now I do what?”

“Wrap it around the tree, in the branches if you can.”

"What if it catches fire?" He asks, eyeing what she had done and trying to mirror it.

"It won't. The lights are made for this. And the wires are coated."

She takes the strand and wraps it around on her side before passing it back.

John hums, taking it and examining it anew.

"You're thinking how easy it would be to strangle someone with it, aren't you?" 

"Or hang them. You'd be shocked how many people want their relatives killed in the holiday itself."

"You already said you'd take the day off." She reprimands.

"And I will.” He promises, “I'm looking forward to having you all to myself for a little while."

A bit of pink stains her cheeks. “Good.” She tells him, connecting the next strand of lights to the first as they make their way up the tree with them. 

The song changes and John finds himself blinking at the familiarity of it. He knew Christmas songs. Even when he avoided the holiday, the music was everywhere. Each shop he entered, even if only for groceries, the train stations. Even walking down the street he often heard the carols played over a loudspeaker.

But this song he knew far more intimately.

"I know this one." He says softly.

"Know what?" Helen asks, handing John the new bundle of lights to begin stringing.

"The song. Tchaikovsky. The Nutcracker Suite."

She listens for a moment to the melody and then nods, "it's a popular one."

John hesitates, his heart contracting at the idea of sharing this particular memory. It wasn't a good one but it wasn't the worst, by far.

"You asked me a few weeks ago if I had any memories of Christmas."

Helen nods, "You said you didn't."

"And I don't, in the traditional sense. But I do remember this." He gestures vaguely to the TV, where the music plays from.

Helen sets the bundle that they have been passing in between the branches and comes around to John’s side of the tree. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to." She reminds him.

"It's not bad," John admits, "But it is a little embarrassing."

That makes her smile, "Oh? Do tell."

He's not getting out of it now so he begins to explain, "When I came to America, I went to the school for assassins."

She nods, having heard him reference it in passing.

"The Ruska Roma used a theater as a cover for the entire operation. So while we were all trained in killing, we also had to learn ballet.”

Her eyes widen and John can literally see her make a conscious effort not to react to that new piece of information. It’s almost amusing to watch her try to school her face but he takes pity on her, after all, it is nearly Christmas.

“Go ahead.” He says softly.

“You took ballet!” She nearly shouts at the new revelation.

John nods, “Yes. The skills between ballet and killing people are highly transferable and--”

“Nope. Sorry, stuck on the ballet thing. I need a minute.”

Helen leans against the wall, nodding to herself. She’s still trying to contain a huge smile and a small giggle slips out as she asks, “Did you have to wear a leotard?”

Yeah, he definitely is going to regret this.

“Yes.”

But he can’t bring himself to at the delight etched on her face.

“And you performed? In front of people?”

Again, John nods.

“Who did you play?” her voice breaks slightly at the question and John rolls his eyes.

“It depended on the year. When I was younger, I usually played one of the mice or Clara’s younger brother. My final year, before I ran away, I may have had to play the role of the Nutcracker Prince.”

A sound escapes her and Helen covers her mouth. 

“You’re getting a lot of joy out of this.”

“Is there video footage?”

“No.”

There’s a flash of disappointment in her eyes but it vanishes quickly enough with all the new information she has just garnered.

“This is the best moment of my life.”

“I’m sure that’s an exaggeration.”

“Nope. This right here.” She tells him walking back over to the tree and stringing the lights, “My sweet Nutcracker.”

John rolls his eyes, “I already regret telling you.” 

“Nah, you don’t.” 

He hates how she’s right. And he loves how she’s right as she hands him the end of the string. They pass it back and forth, tangling the tree in a faint white glow.

He still doesn’t understand the reasoning for decorating a tree with lights, only to take them off and pack them away for eleven months. But he keeps going, eventually taking over when the strand goes above her head, out of her reach.

“You’re kinda handy.” She tells him and John circles the tree, placing them along the spots which she cannot reach.

“Guess you’ll have to keep me.”

“I mean, I could replace you with a step-ladder.” She jokes, “But I suppose you have your other uses.”

“And what are those?” John asks as he tucks the end of the strand into the branches and out of sight.

“You keep the bed warm, which is nice. And you know how I like my coffee.” She takes a step backward as John begins stalking toward her, “You’re pretty handsy-- sorry, handy, in the shower, too.”

John catches her, wrapping an arm around Helen’s waist and pulling her towards him.

“Plus, there’s the fact that I’m kind of in love with you.” Her voice softens as he strokes her face.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

John leans down and kisses her gently.

“I love you, too.” He tells her, noting how she shines under the subtle glow of the Christmas lights.

“Then I guess you’ll have to keep me.”

“Forever.” John promises because if she’ll have him, that’s how long he will hold her.

She bows her head, touching her face to his chest, breathing him in for a long moment before she slips out of his arms. She takes his hand and leads him back over to the couch and the boxes of ornaments. 

“This box first.” She tells him, showing him a handful of stacks of orbs in red, and blue, and silver, and gold. “I tend to tuck these further into the tree and save the outer branches for the more personal ornaments.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She smacks his ass playfully, “Go decorate the damn tree.”

John grins, taking a handful of the ornaments over with him. Helen shows him how to use the plain ornaments to make the tree look fuller.

And then they move on to the second box, filled with much more personable ornaments.

She has about six ornaments that take on some various form of coffee cup or mug and she tells him exactly where she got it or whom she got it from. She shows him a tiny book ornament that actually has the story written inside.

“What about this one?” He asks, holding up a small gingerbread man clearly decorated by a child.

“Hannah made that for me a few years ago for Christmas.” She says, referencing her niece. 

“And this one?” He holds up a glass jellyfish, decorated with ribbons and beads.

“Spring break in college. My roommate got it for me to comemorate the day I was stung by one.”

John smirks, hanging it from a high branch so that the tendrils fell down into the tree.

He goes over, snagging a few more from the box. There’s a key, engraved with her first address and the year she bought her first home. An ornament that serves as a picture frame with Helen holding her newborn nephew, claiming World’s Best Aunt. Another mug of coffee and a small grand piano with a year etched into it. He did the math. She would have been six.

“What about this one?” He holds up the piano.

She looks up and smiles at the sight, “My grandmother got that for me after my first recital.”

“I didn’t know you played.”

“I haven’t in years.” She admits, walking over and hanging a tiny wine glass on the tree next to him. “I started taking lessons in kindergarten.. My grandmother had a grand piano in her living room. I used to go there every day to practice. Played all the way through high school.”

“And then?”

She shrugs, “I left home. Went to college. Played a bit in the music practice rooms but those were mostly reserved for students actually studying music. My grandmother passed not long after I graduated. My parents offered me the piano but I didn’t have any place to keep it.” She shrugs, “Think they sold it.”

She hangs a ceramic bee that makes a branch droop. 

“Where’d that one come from?”

“Steve.” She says, referencing her brother, “He used to call me honeybee when I was little.”

It continues to blow his mind that she has an answer for nearly every single ornament.

The frosted-glass Christmas tree once belonged to her grandmother.

The golden retriever was an homage to her first dog, Lucy.

Another picture frame ornament that had a picture of Helen and her siblings, far younger and bundled up in winter clothes standing outside with rosy cheeks.

A soccer ball from her dad.

A globe from her grandfather that had an x over New Jersey and another over where Helen had studied abroad.

There’s another of just Helen, this time as a baby, engraved with Baby’s First Christmas.

Helen sees it and her eyes spark up, “Oh! I almost forgot! I’ll be right back!”

She turns on her heel and runs back up the stairs leaving a bewildered John standing at the tree. He shakes his head and resumes going through her ornament collection.

She doesn’t take long and her footsteps soon echo off the stairs as he hurries back down. There’s a bag in her hand as she reaches him and a smile on her face.

“I picked up a few new ornaments when I went shopping earlier.”

.”Oh?”

She nods, eagerly and reaches into the bag. She pulls out a small glass bottle, the bottom painted in an amber to give the illusion of liquid. It’s labeled bourbon and John laughs as he takes it.

“Where’d you find this?”

“There was a kiosk in the mall.” She reaches into the bag, “Where I also found…” She pulls out another ornament. There was a picture of John inside of it that he recognized from a few days before, when he was making her coffee, still in his pajamas.

Etched on the edge of the frame is Baby’s First Christmas: 2009.

He shoots her a look and she just giggles. 

“Really?” He asks, not offended in the slightest, more amused than anything.

“Yeah,” she flashes a wide grin, “You’re my baby and it’s your first Christmas.”

“You think you’re cute, don’t you?”

“You think I’m cute.” She corrects, stepping over to him, and resting her head against his chest. “I just want this year to be special for you.”

“It already is.” He says, and by fuck does he mean it.

…………

Usually, almost always, John wakes up first.

His internal clock tells him to wake up with the sun while Helen prefers to sleep until six-thirty on the weekdays and eight on the weekends. It works well for him. He doesn’t need as much sleep as she does and he would much rather spend his mornings watching the woman in his arms. 

Christmas morning, he finds, is the exception. Helen is up before the sun has peaked over the horizon. He feels the bed bounce, jolting him out of his restful slumber and suddenly Helen is crawling on top of him.

A welcome occurrence, he thinks, but he doubts this will go where his first thought trails…

“It’s Christmas!” Helen says, bouncing on her knees, further jostling him.

John smirks, still not opening his eyes, and says, “So it is,” his voice still rough from sleep.

“Get up!”

He hums, “Is this what the phrase kid on Christmas refers to?”

She playfully smacks his chest, “Come on!”

John opens his eyes and glances over at the clock. “It’s not even six.”

“So?”

“So all this from the woman who once threatened to castrate me if I ever woke her up before six without a coffee in hand?”

“Its Christmas!” Helen says, like it’s an answer.

John grabs her hips and flips her to her back before she can even recognize what is happening. Rolling on top of her, John slips a hand under her shirt.

"Is it time for me to unwrap my present?"

She laughs and fuck. Everything seems surreal and he can't quite believe that this is his life.

Helen lying under him, her dark curls still mussed from sleep. An excited countenance that is almost contagious as she wakes him up to celebrate a holiday.

He half expects himself to wake up and find out it was all just a wonderful dream.

Good things don’t happen to him, but there she is.

Helen reaches up and places a hand on his cheek. She strokes it lovingly, “Stockings first. Then we can talk about unwrapping your presents.”

John slips off her and takes her hand, pulling her to her feet. “Pajamas stay on?”

She snorts, “You’re not opening presents in a three-piece.”

He kisses her head, “Yes, ma’am.”

Helen grabs him by the hand and practically drags him from the room.

His heart races in his chest. He hoped he had done good enough. Marcus seemed convinced that he had when John had consulted with the other assassin. Marcus assured him that his gifts for Helen were perfect, that she’d be thrilled, but doubt gnawed at him.

He’d never done this before, never had cause to buy another presents. And Google was helpful but he still wasn’t entirely sure if he’d managed to do a stocking right. 

John almost wants to slow her down. Her biggest present waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Too complicated to wrap, he got a novelty gigantic bow from Aurelio that usually went on cars to stick atop the gift.

There would be no missing it, he thinks, as Helen drags him down the stairs and stops.

He hears the hitch in her breath and her head swings back up to look at him, her mouth open.

Better or worse, he’s stunned her into silence.

Her eyes shift back to the grand piano sitting just under the balcony, the red bow’s ribbons flowing down the sides.

“I-- John!”

Her hand goes up to cover her mouth and he’s not quite sure what that means. If he should offer to return it and just forget about the whole thing but then she’s turning, her arms thrown around him and his heart just fucking stops.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

He’s not sure what the feeling inside of him is. It’s warm and expanding. It almost hurts with the intensity that fills him at her reaction. And fuck, but what he wouldn’t give to make her feel that way again.

“How?” Helen asks, slipping her arms from around him, wiping a watery eye.

“French doors come off their hinges.” John says, “Marcus, Aurelio, and I moved it in late last night.”

“And I slept through the three of you trying to move a piano?”

John smirks, still reveling in the foreign emotions overwhelming him, “Why do you think I kept refilling your wine last night? You were out like a light before ten.”

She wacks his arm, her face aglow with a smile, and yeah, he thinks he gets it.

He thinks he understands why people run ragged each year over finding the perfect gift. He understands that there is something beyond the blind materialism, something intricate and beautiful and special about taking care in finding something for the person you love.

Something perfect about watching Helen reach down to brush her fingers along the keys, noting the way her fingers arch to familiar forms as she tests the instrument.

A soft melody fills his usually quiet house.

Lights from the tree brighten his usually dark house.

And Helen fills his usually empty home.

He never wants this to end.

He never wants her to leave.

He’ll make her so happy that she never wants to leave, he decides. He will do whatever it takes to bring her the kind of peace that she brings to him. He’ll spend the rest of his life adoring her, loving her. Making it all worth it for her.

She looks up, smiling at him and fuck.

I’m going to marry her, John thinks.

He steps forward, closing in the space around her and wraps his arms around her waist, resting his head on hers. He closes his eyes and lets the song she is playing wash over him.

“Merry Christmas.” He whispers.

[foxcantswim]

Take My Hand | Thoschei

Take My Hand https://archiveofourown.org/works/23059720

Just some soft Thoschei at the end of Series 12 ( 13 x Dhawan!Master )

The Doctor convinces the Master to leave Gallifrey with her

-x-

She couldn't do it.

Her hand had dropped to her side, unable to press the button. Even after all the Master's taunting.

She simply couldn't do it... Despite her current hatred towards the Master for what he had done to Gallifrey, she couldn't bring herself to kill him. She would never allow her hate to overcome her. Her adoration for her old friend, well he was more than just a friend, in front of her was all she could focus on.

Looking down at him, she hoped that his eyes would hold something for once. Not the usual emptiness. Just a glimmer of hope was all she could ever wish for. Anything.

She noticed him twitch slightly, a look of confusion glossed over his eyes. His fists clenched just a little bit tighter. The Doctor noticed every little thing about him.

The Doctor was prepared to die there on Gallifrey at the hands of the Master's new creations. She would gladly accept death instead of killing her friend.

But after Ko Sharmus had ran into the room, taking a hold of the device... the Doctor thought of this as another chance. Another chance to get off this planet with the Master. Not alone.

"Come with me," the Doctor said, outstretching her hand. Her eyes flickered between him and the new Cybermen behind him.

He chuckled whilst standing, "And why would I do that, Doctor? I hate you," the Doctor heard the slight falter when he breathed the word 'hate'. She knew deep down there was more than just hate. Something more.

"Yes. You do. But not enough to say 'no'," she replied, not willing to let her hand drop.

He looked away from her, focusing on anything but.

"I know..." she took a step closer, "I know deep down that you've always wanted to travel with me. We talked about it when we were young. Just us two. Seeing the stars, seeing the planets... And we promised eachother that we would sit down at the end of every adventure and just talk in our own TARDIS. Together."

"Doc-"

"Master," she cut him off, her hearts ached at the need to call him by his real name, "Just this once. Take my hand," she pleaded.

He shook his head, looking down at his feet, "Why... After all I've done. Why do you still continue to treat me like I'm your friend?!" a hint of anger laced his words.

"Because you are," she assured, "I wanted to take your hand at the boundary. But I was afraid... Afraid of you letting go again."

The Master would never admit that the Doctor was above him. Because right now she was. She had been for a long time. Grabbing her hand would prove that she was the higher being.

"The Cyberium would never let me leave," he admitted.

"I wouldn't let the Cyberium stop you," she promised, "We can control it together."

She could practically see the gears turning in his head, the harsh tension in the room was slowly dying out.

"Come on," the Doctor smiled, "You know you want to," seeing his hands twitch, she sighed, "Would it make you feel better if I dropped my hand and you raised yours?" she teased as she let her hand fall.

"Perhaps," the Master tried to stop the smirk from appearing on his face as he raised his hand, "Take my hand, Doctor."

She quickly took it, "Always."

-x-

The Doctor tried to talk Ko Sharmus out of sacrificing himself, assuring him that there must be another way. He declined and declined, promising that this is what he had to do.

The Master didn't need to think twice before dragging her down the corridor towards a vacant TARDIS. His hand released hers before he danced around the console.

"Let me dri-"

"You always leave the brakes on, Doctor! I would never let you drive!" he exclaimed with a laugh.

She moved to the opposite side of the console, her hands gripped it hard, "Don't judge my abilities," she smirked.

"Is it too late to decline your offer?" he groaned as he pulled the final lever.

"My offer?" she questioned, "You're the one who said 'take my hand, Doctor'," she teased as the TARDIS shook.

"You are already becoming a pain..." he muttered.

She smiled, "Where are you even sending us?"

"I got a lock on to your TARDIS, I assumed you wanted to be somewhere familiar."

"Trying to steal my TARDIS, are you?"

"Don't test me."

The Doctor felt like she was going to cry as she looked at the man on the other side of the console. All of this felt like a dream. It was so long ago when they had agreed to travel together... And now it was really happening before her very eyes.

He caught her staring, "Oh, if looks could kill, Doctor. I might just drop dead right now," he joked.

The Doctor was already loving this. She could hardly believe it. Her old friend was standing in the same TARDIS as her. And they weren't trying to kill eachother. They weren't a threat to eachother.

She rounded the console without saying a word, feeling a stray tear roll down her cheek.

"Don't you get all emotional on me, Doctor. You know how I feel about emotions," he glared as he took a step back from the console, already expecting the Doctor to display some physical affection.

The anger in his voice was evident... but she could tell that he wouldn't deny a hug.

Her arms came to wrap around him as she allowed more tears to fall, her head rested against the man's chest - listening to his heartbeats.

"Doctor..." he groaned under her touch, trying to sound annoyed. His arms stayed rigid, trying his best not reciprocate. He couldn't appear weak.

"Thank you for coming with me, Koschei," she muttered with a content sigh, "I would've stayed there on Gallifrey with you, you know?"

"No you wouldn't-"

"Yes I would have," she said, her head lifted off his chest to look up into his eyes, "I would've set a course on another TARDIS for Ko Sharmus... Then I would've come back to you. But... I wouldn't have killed you. Because I could never do that to you."

He gulped, feeling his heartbeat quicken. Finally. He allowed one hand to come up to the Doctor's face, he sighed as he cupped the woman's face, "Always so stupid. Aren't you, Theta?"

They hadn't been this physically close in so long. The Doctor even thought for a second that the Master was going to kiss her... She could barely remember what that felt like.

He decided to pull the Doctor into a hug once the TARDIS landed. This caught her of guard, making her freeze up for a moment. His arms were tight around her, her hands clutched the back of his jacket.

"You're tired..." he said.

She shook her head against him, "No. I'm okay."

He felt the slightest bit of guilt begin to eat away at him. He had been the cause for this. The cause of the Doctor's pain. He thought he would enjoy it...

Pulling back, his hand found hers and he spoke sternly, "Your TARDIS is waiting. No point in wasting our time in here. And you can get some rest whilst I finally take the reigns of your TARDIS again."

"It's my turn to drive," she pouted.

He rolled his eyes, dragging her towards the doors, "Next time you can drive."

"And the time after that... and the time after that..." she smiled.

"Don't push your luck, Doctor. Or I'll push you into the time vortex."

"You wouldn't."

"I would."

Just as they were about to leave the TARDIS, the Doctor pulled the Master back towards her, "And I would just pull you out with me," she hugged him tight again.

Letting out a groan, he spoke, "Have you always been this touchy feely?" he failed to stop the smile from appearing on his face.

"I just haven't had a hug in a long time..." she mumbled against him, his arms soon found their place around her once more.

After many attempts of pulling away from the Doctor, finally, the Master convinced her to leave the TARDIS, "You're going to make me regenerate if you squeeze any harder," he had mumbled.

"Can't let that happen."

The Master stepped out first and the Doctor followed.

He grimaced, "A tree? Really?"

The Doctor allowed her hand to brush the side of the tree, "Smart if you think about it. Nobody would ever know something was off."

The Master kept his hands in his pockets as he walked on ahead, "Stop feeling up the tree and get a move on. Don't make me leave you behind," he called without looking back.

"Two things. One. My TARDIS wouldn't leave me behind and let you take her. Two. You wouldn't leave me behind."

"Really?" he questioned, stopping in his tracks.

"Really," she caught up to him.

"Didn't your TARDIS leave you behind last time?"

The Doctor hushed him, "Shut up..." she muttered under her breath before grabbing his hand again.

The Master smirked "Is this going to be a regular thing?" he sighed as they walked side by side.

She nodded, "At least I'm not saying 'run' for once," she joked as they arrived at the blue box.

The Doctor's free hand came up to rest on the door, "Hey, old girl..."

He watched quietly as the Doctor's hand traveled down to the door handle. Before she could push it open, it opened on its own.

A questionable hum emitted from the TARDIS as she entered, pulling the Master along with her.

"It's okay," the Doctor assured, "He's travelling with us for a bit."

Another hum.

"Don't be jealous," she smiled.

"She doesn't like me," he muttered.

"Can you blame her?" the pair approached the console, "You've done a lot of bad things, you know? Like killing lots of innocent people," she hadn't forgiven him for all the deaths. For all the suffering. It would take a lot of time for her to understand his ways. To forgive him.

"Don't think I will stop, Doctor..." he said as he leaned against the console, releasing the Doctor's hand. She leaned against it beside him.

She sighed, "Just... Try."

For you, I would.

"No promises," he folded his arms.

There was a comfortable silence around them. The Master knew that the Doctor needed to take a breather. She was extremely tired both physically and mentally, even though she didn't show it.

His eyes drifted around the room, "I never got a good look at this place when I first came in here... I don't like it."

"He's only teasing," the Doctor said once the TARDIS started to make another distressed noise. She allowed her eyes to close as she took a deep breath.

She was scared to open her eyes.

Scared to see that Koschei wasn't really there. Just a figment of her imagination.

The Master glanced at the Doctor. His eyebrows furrowed as he noticed her ragged breathing, "Theta," he spoke, understanding her situation, "I'm here."

This time, he was the one to initiate the hug. He pulled her into his side, his arms secure around her.

I'm sorry.

He didn't know what to say. He felt the need to scream and shout at someone or something. The banging in his head made everything hurt... But as he felt the Doctor's arms around him. The noise became more bearable. She was like a barrier. Blocking the noise for him. Strangely, he never expected to feel at peace around her. But he did.

"I should really go see the gang..."

He quickly replied, "Just take a moment. Those puny little humans can wait."

She sighed, her eyes closing as she focused on Koschei's heartbeats. She decided to ignore his comment for now.

A loud alarm blaring from the console made the pair jump away in fright.

"Is your stupid TARDIS trying to scare me into my next regeneration?!" the Master exclaimed in anger as he felt his hearts begin to beat rapidly.

"No-"

The Doctor was cut off by a flash of light illuminating the room. The two looked towards the source to see three Judoon standing in front of them.

The look of confusion on the Master's face was clear, "Oh, Doctor what have you been up to?"

"I haven't-"

The Judoon interrupted, "Judoon Cold Case Unit. Fugitive: The Doctor," they stepped closer, "Sentence: whole of life imprisonment, maximum security facility."

"What?!" the Doctor exclaimed.

Suddenly, the Judoon were gone - one by one.

Gone.

The Doctor's eyes quickly snapped towards the Master, "Master?!" she shouted, he was holding the TCE in his hand and aiming where the Judoon used to be.

"Only call my name like that when we're in bed, Theta," he chuckled before pocketing the TCE. He walked over to the Judoon and picked them up, "Look!" he looked like an excited child with a new toy, "I've made some new friends."

He was soon bored with them as he tossed them over his shoulder.

"Koschei that- that was extremely unnecessary!" she still couldn't believe that he had shrunk them, "If word gets out, you and I will both be in a lot more trouble with the Judoon!"

He stepped closer with an annoyed sigh, "You talk way too much, has anyone ever told you that?"

Before she could say anything, the Master's hands cupped her cheeks. His lips connected with hers almost immediately. The Doctor could hardly get over the initial shock.

She didn't expect him to be so soft and gentle. She expected anything but. Her arms seemed to move on their own as they came to rest around the Master's neck. His own hands traveled down to pull her closer by the waist as the Doctor allowed her eyes to close.

The Doctor pulled away after hearing the TARDIS make a groan of disgust.

"Don't listen to her," he replied, kissing her again. His hands were almost possessive as he held her close.

The TARDIS noises finally died down once she finally knew that the Doctor wasn't under any threat.

Koschei could feel tension radiating off of Theta, dark and unwelcomed tension. One of his hands carefully drifted up towards her head, "May I?" he breathed between the kiss.

She felt a tear fall down her cheek. The silence she replied with was more than enough for him.

His fingers brushed against Theta's temple. At this moment, he was willing to take on the pain and hurt for her. The sound of the drums was nothing in comparison to the weight the Doctor carried. Her fingers came to play with the hair on the back of his neck in comfort.

I'm here for you now.

Theta heard him loud and clear.

He wanted to apologise. He really did. But he couldn't. Not right now. One day. Maybe.

He soothed her mind, dimmed down any bad thought he could find.

The Doctor's lips left his once she realised what he was doing. The telepathic connection broke, "You don't have to do this-"

"I do," he replied.

His fingers never left her temple, her tired eyes opened before closing immediately. Her arms moved down to wrap around his middle, resting her head against his shoulder. He wanted to help her calm down and tire her mind out.

"You need rest," the Master decided, "What kind of Time Lord needs to sleep?!" the Doctor smiled. Even after everything that has happened, he still used the term 'Time Lord' so fondly, his hand dropped from her head before he carried her in his arms.

Carrying her down one of the many corridors, he decided that he would have to come to terms with the whole situation. It wasn't exactly the Doctor's fault for what had happened. He needed someone to blame. And the Doctor was the only option at the time. And after everything he had done, she had still come back to him. She always does.

He arrived at a random bedroom, pushing the door open with his foot. Stepping inside, he made his way over to the bed. Koschei helped Theta remove her shoes as she was on the brink of passing out. Her head immediately connected with the pillow, a sigh of relief escaped her.

She lifted a hand to grab onto the bottom of the Master's jacket when he began to turn and walk away, "Don't go."

"Don't worry. I will be back," he assured and turned to face her. He leaned down to press a teasing kiss to her lips, "Your Master has some things to do."

She groaned in disgust before flipping over to bury her face into the pillow.

He chuckled, darkly, "If you're still awake by the time I'm back. I will have to make you sleep," he warned.

Another groan, but muffled, escaped the Doctor.

The smirk wouldn't leave his face as he left the room, closing the door behind him.

Immediately, he pranced down the corridor, "Wooo!" he exclaimed, running into the console room. The TARDIS made a confused noise, "Come on, darlin'!" he shouted, basking in the orange glow coming from the console, "I feel like burning a planet or two!"

The TARDIS wasn't having any of that.

He pulled a couple levers, pressed a few buttons here and there.

"Don't ruin this for me," he growled once he realised the TARDIS wasn't responding, "Technically, I'm your owner too now."

No, you're not.

"Yes, I am."

No.

"Yes," he replied. The TARDIS remained silent. He groaned in frustration, "You're so stubborn! How does she cope?!"

The TARDIS made a noise which could be heard as laughter.

His hand came up to rest on the console, brushing it carefully, "Come oooon. Just one?" he decided to take a different approach, "It'll be fuuuun~," he winked up at the ceiling.

One?

"Just one."

One.

"One tiny little planet. Doesn't even need to have anybody living on it! Although that would be a perk-"

The TARDIS quickly began to move. The console came to life. Lights flickered, a miniature white TARDIS span around quickly.

"Oh, did I ever tell you that I love ya?!" he smirked, happily. The TARDIS landed...

He danced over to the door and pulled it open, excitement took over his body. His smile soon dropped when he realised where the TARDIS had took him...

"M-Master?!" the girl said. The Master's eyes darted between the three 'companions'. He slammed the door shut, turning to glare at the console.

"Did I ever tell you that I hate you?"

-x-

The Doctor couldn't stop the smile from appearing on her face as she looked up at the monitor in the corner of the room, displaying what was going on in the console room, "Same old Master..." she sighed, her eyes closed, "Nice one, old girl."

The TARDIS hummed happily in response.

"He'll change. One day."

One day.

[kasdeyathebitterwoman]

Running Mate Part 3

Welp. There’s going to be a part 4 and probably several other parts to continue this story…the response to part 1 has been insane and y’all definitely seem to be enjoying part 2 as well, so thank you! 

Description: While running in the English countryside, Henry meets a fun documentarian and sparks fly. 

Word Count: 2,255

CW: none, fluff

Every day after your coffee date, you and Henry had talked via text message. He was charming and sweet in a way that most others were not. When you weren’t running with him, you were talking about a variety of topics from PC gaming to Ancient Egypt. You found a common love of history which was rare for you. Not everyone enjoyed listening to you go on about some ancient Roman or Grecian fact that you’d learned.

And now a week later, you were standing in the reception area of a private theater chatting with a friend and film critic from the area. As a tradition, your team held a sort of cocktail party before a viewing to give your guests a chance to mingle and learn more about the film from the producers. You were dressed in a sleek black halter dress with black pumps and minimal gold jewelry while your hair tumbled down your shoulders in a half-up, half-down hairdo. You found this dress that very day and fell in love. It hugged your curves just right and made you feel sexy, without being obvious.

Nervously, you glanced around the room looking for evidence of him. It was still early in the evening, so he wasn’t there yet. You ended up in a conversation with one of the directors on your staff. They were talking about a recent experience with a project and you couldn’t help from laughing. You closed your eyes, tipped your head back, and laughed. When you opened your eyes, your gaze slid toward the front door where you saw Henry stride in. He was wearing black slacks, a gray button-down shirt with the top to buttons undone, and a plain black jacket. His normally curly locks were smoothed out into loose waves and smoothed back so he looked even more like Superman than he already did. Your breath caught in your lungs and for a moment. Henry peered around the room before his eyes landed on you and you swear you saw the same thing happen to him. Then a beaming smile grew across his face and then walked confidently to you.

“Hello there,” Henry said as he got closer to you. You accepted an embrace and a kiss on the cheek from him and you could easily smell this cologne. It was earthy and musky with a hint of floral that you couldn’t place, but you didn’t mind.

“Hey,” you said smiling as Henry leaned back up after kissing your cheek. “Thank you for coming,” you said, genuinely thankful he showed up.  

“Of course,” he replied. “I’m happy to be here,” he smiled down at you and your heart skipped several beats, but someone clearing their throat brought you back to reality. It was David, the director friend you’d been talking with.

“Uh, Henry this is one of our in-house directors, David,” you say, gesturing toward David who gently waves. “David, this is my friend Henry,” you continue, gesturing to Henry. The men shake hands and chuckle.

“Oh yeah, I know who he is,” David says and Henry raises an eyebrow. “How’s your support for England treating you, mate?” David asks and Henry laughs suddenly. The two begin discussing, you slowly figure out, rugby. “Y/n, what do you think?” David asks at one point, turning to you. Your eyes grow wide and you look between the two men.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you reply and the men exchange a glance.

“Rugby,” David says slowly and you bob your head.

“Yeah, no clue,” you say and Henry chuckles as David shakes his head.

“Damn, Yank,” he says and you openly scoff.

“Hey now, to be fair, I don’t even understand American football that well,” you start. “I played soccer in high school,” you say and Henry bellows at that. You smile at the sound, feeling your heart flutter again. David shakes his head and says that he’s going to get another drink from the bar. Henry agrees to go with him to get his own drink and you continue to mingle around the room. This was your least favorite part of the film making process, but you knew it had to happen. Henry found you again and offered you a glass of champagne which you graciously accepted.

“I have to admit,” he started, after taking a gulp of his Guinness. “If movie premieres were like this, I think I’d enjoy them much more,” he smiles at you with an eyebrow raise and you laugh sardonically.

“Really? I’ve never actually been to a bonafide movie premiere,” you say and Henry bobs his head.

“They’re honestly just horse and pony shows, but I have to do them,” he says, a tinge of irritation in his voice. You smirk.

“Oh that’s what this is as well,” you say and Henry raises that eyebrow at you. “That group over there,” you say, tilting your head to your left a little and watch as Henry subtly checks them out. “Is a group of our backers. They gave us money to make this documentary, so we have to show them finished product so they can tear it to shreds before the festival season,” you say this sardonically and Henry chuckles. A sound causes you both to turn around. It’s an usher announcing that it’s time to enter the theater for the viewing. “Oh by the way,” you start suddenly. You open the little clutch you brought with you pulling out a ticket. “This is your seat. Sorry, I forgot to give it to you earlier,” you hand Henry the piece of card-stock and his finger brushes your skin. You feel your knees turn to jelly instantly. He smiles as he takes it, then gestures for you to go ahead of him like a true gentleman.

As Henry finds his seat, you move the front of the room where James is standing with a film critic and friend. He sees you and smiles gently. You walk up to him, giving him a half hug.

“And who’s your friend?” James asks, his eyes darting quickly in Henry’s direction. You squint at him, your nose twitching as you try not to smile.

“Just that - a friend,” you reply, though James clearly doesn’t believe you.

“Mhmm,” he muses and you roll your eyes at him. He accepts a microphone from an usher and begins the opening comments. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming to another Bulldog Westley Production screening. I’m James and this is y/n, and we are the team behind this company. We are absolutely grateful to have each and every one of you here, but I’m going to let y/n take over because ultimately, this film was her project,” he says, turning to hand you the mic. You take it and smile at everyone.

“Hey y’all,” you say in your usual twang and several people chuckle. “As James said, we are very grateful to have all you here. For many of us, this ain’t our first rodeo,” you say, waving to all the backers in the audience and laughing with them. “For those that are new here, hi, I’m y/n. I’m from Texas and I love documentaries. I get to work with one of my best friends,” you say, glancing at James who is smiling gently. “And I’m honored that he lets me spend real time and effort on things that I’m truly passionate about,” you smile around the room at everyone. Your eyes land on Henry for just a moment and you feel your heart flutter. “Alright, ooey-gooey stuff aside, there is just a little housekeeping I have to go over,” you say, pausing to make sure everyone is paying attention. “Number one, please, please, please, make sure your cellphones are turned off. This is an advanced screening and we are really hoping this does well in the festival circuit. It can’t do that if someone leaks even one second of footage. And number two, under every seat there is a feedback card. I’d love to know your thoughts about this when we are done. It is anonymous, so if you do say something ugly, I’ll never know it was you, but remember this,” you pause, staring everyone down. “I will think about it every single day for the rest of my life,” you joke and the audience bursts out in laughter. “Okay, that’s it for the intro. Ladies and gentlemen, we are Bulldog Westley Productions and this is our latest documentary, Take Me Home Country Roads,” everyone claps as you and James walk off stage to your seats. You gave Henry the seat next to you and he was smiling wide when you walked up.

“You were incredible,” he murmurs as you take your seat. You smile wide, grateful that the lights are dimming so he can’t see you blushing like crazy. Your nerves are amplified as the doc begins and the opening bars of “Take Me Home (Country Roads)” by John Denver begin. Without realizing it, your hand reaches out to Henry’s hand for comfort. He accepts your hand willingly, squeezing your hand gently. You can see him smile at you out of the corner of your eye and you feel yourself smile in response.

What you hadn’t been able to explain to Henry before this night was that the documentary he was viewing was incredibly personal. It was more a personal diary about a trip you took with your dad and your grandmother back to her home town of Grant Town, West Virginia. The documentary was based around the fact that your grandmother was going home to bury the last of her six sisters. It had been years since she had seen anyone or her home town. You had never been and you wanted to learn more about your dad’s family, so you asked if you could come along and film the experience. James thought it would make a great documentary and thus, the project was born.  

An hour and fifty-two minutes later, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house when the lights came back on. Henry, who was still holding on to your hand by the end of the film, let go to dab at his eyes as you made your way to the front of the room again. You and James received a standing ovation from the audience, then watched as everyone began to head back out to the reception area. Henry lingered to the side as you thanked a few of the backers that came to congratulate you on a job well done. When the last backer had gone, Henry came up to you.

“That was incredible,” he said, a faraway look in his eye. You accepted a hug from him and smiled at the compliment.

“Thank you,” you reply into his chest, taking in his smell again which as lingered. He pulled back to compliment you, but he just kept opening and closing his mouth and shaking his head.

“I mean, just,” he started and stopped. “Wow, that is going to do amazing in the festival circuit, y/n,” he says and you blush.

“I certainly hope so,” you respond, smiling. You stare at Henry, who’s staring right back, with amusement and happiness. You can hear someone walking up to you and glance over your shoulder to see James walking over.

“Hey y/n,” he says quickly, smiling and waving at Henry. “Hi, I’m James,” he says. Henry introduces himself and they shake hands. “Y/n, we need to get back out there and talk to a few backers before they leave,” he says before turning and walking away. You nod and turn back to Henry. It’s just the two of you now in the theater.

“Sorry, duty calls,” you say and he smiles at you.

“I understand,” he replies. “I actually need to get going myself, but I was wondering. Do you think I could see you again tomorrow?” he asks and you smile wide.

“I’d like that,” you reply. Henry nods and leans down to kiss you on the cheek. “You missed,” you say. Henry looks at you puzzled. “You missed,” you repeat, but Henry’s brow is no less furrowed. Ever so slightly rolling your eyes, you grab the collar of Henry’s jacket, stand up on your tip-toes, and pull him in for a kiss. It’s a surprise at first and Henry isn’t ready. It’s all a shock for both of you and you take a step back. “I’m sorry, that was forward and impolite. I’m so sorry,” you say, but Henry is shaking his head no.

“No, no, that was,” he starts, a little breathless. “That was really good,” he finishes. Then he steps forward closing the gap between you and kisses you. It’s raw and passionate and delicious. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders while his hands snake around your waist. After a moment, you release yourself from him and take a step back. Breathing heavy, you look at him and he’s smiling like a schoolboy after his first snog.

“I have to go,” you say, still breathing heavily. You move to hurry off, but you stop and look at Henry over your shoulder. “And don’t look at my butt as I walk away,” you say dramatically, before turning and running for the door. The sound of Henry’s laughter follows you and you can’t remove the smile that is now permanently attached to your face.

[the-hermitcraft-chronicles]

renbo angst 🌺

Title: “Hot and Cold”- by Katy Perry

Au: Grian is an avian, Ren a werewolf. 

Warnings: Frost bite, mentions of prosthetic limbs

Cold. That was all Ren could feel. Cold, alone, and scared. He had been out collecting ice for a new project when a blizzard hit, and now he couldn’t see anything, even his communicator to call his boyfriend for help. Not that he’d want Mumbo to be out in this sort of weather either. He fell onto his knees, hardly able to feel his feet, hands, or his legs. His breath was coming out in short pants, his wolfish ears pressed his his head despite the fact he couldn’t feel those either. 

He shivered violently, reaching slowly into his bag to pull out his pickaxe, a flint and steel, anything. But his fingers wouldn’t move. He couldn’t grab onto anything. “F..Fuck.” He muttered, slowly going to stand back up. He pulled out a torch, letting it light up what little of the night he could see. He was amazed their wasn't any strays around yet, or maybe they too couldn’t see in this weather. He took only a few steps forward before he fell again, his legs trapped in too deep of snow. “Shit. Uh..” He stuttered, feeling cold set into his bones. 

He pulled his communicator up only a few inches to his face, his body feeling heavy and his fingers numb. He ended up handing to slap the damn thing with his entire hand, barely even pressing enough buttons to make sense of it. Ren felt himself starting to slip, his face colliding into the snow. 

Rendog has sent his coordinates

Mumbo groaned as his communicator went off for the third hundredth time, about ready to throw the damn thing off his arm until he saw it was a message from Ren, with just a set of coordinates. Odd. He frowned, messaging Grian. 

MumboJumbo>Grian: Hey man, Can you come help me? I think Ren might be in a bit of trouble. 

Grian>MumboJumbo: Oh of course! Just let me get some first aid stuff just in case.

That’s what lead Grian and Mumbo flying straight into a blizzard, flying over head above the clouds, unable to see the land under them. Mumbo looked at the Avian, who was starting to shiver in these temperatures. Oh yea, Grian was a tropical bird. He forgot. 

“Do you see him??” Grian called out. Mumbo looked at him. 

“Of course I don’t! The clouds are too thick to see through!” Mumbo said, checking his own coordinates in relation to Ren’s, before he gasped, stopping and turning back. “He should be right down here somewhere!” He called out, and Grian yelped as he quickly followed. “REN! REN??” Mambo yelled, hardly able to see anything in the heavy snow. He landed in snow with a heavy thud, and he groaned lowly. 

“Mumbo!” Grian yelped, helping the other man up on top of the snow. “His coordinates are a few blocks back.” He said, picking up the non avian and flying towards them. The two hermits gasped as they saw a blob in the snow, an unusually high stack of snow that was oddly Ren shaped. Grian let go of Mumbo, using a torch to keep as much visibility as he could.

Mumbo fell to his knees in the snow, digging his boyfriend out of it. His eyes widened a bit as the blizzard started to clear. “R..Ren..?” Mumbo practically whimpered. 

In front of him was a passed out Ren, his face dug into the snow and Mumbo assumed he couldn’t breathe. He picked up the frozen hermit, holding him close. “It’ll be okay Ren, I promise.” Mumbo said, Handing Ren over to Grian. He needed his hands to shoot off fireworks while they flew, and Grian didn’t. 

Grian grunted with the added weight, but held the werewolf princess style and nodding. “Void… He’s frozen to the bone.” He said softly. 

“I know, we have to get him into yours or my base.” Mumbo said, grabbing more rockets from his inventory; Aka a small bag they each had on their backs. What? Inventory sounds cooler than backpack. Anyways, he started off quickly, expecting Grian to follow him. He needed to get Ren home quickly, so the man didn’t freeze to death. 

~~

Ren could hear mumbling around him, his ears twitching softly. His face felt… wet. But at least warm. For a second it almost grossed him out, but then he realized he was covered in hot towels. He felt grass under his arms. Where was he? He still couldn’t feel his fingers, or his legs. “Hm?? Mumbo-?” He groaned, going to sit up. 

“Nonono! Don’t sit up!” Mumbo rushed over to him, forcing him to lay back down in the grass. They were out in front of Mumbo’s mega base. He saw it now. “We just started a fire, to help you warm up.” He looked down at his arms, those covered in towels as well. 

“So you mean to tell me. You first reaction to. To me being frozen. Was to let me sunbathe in the jungle?” He asked slowly, a fond grin pulling at his face. 

“W..Well yes.” Mumbo said, face flushing red. “It seemed like a good idea.” He added, sitting down beside Ren and helping him take off the towels. Once the towels were off his body he sat up again, looking down at his legs. He could see the black crawling up from his feet, and he practically whimpered at what he realized. 

“How are we gonna fix this?” He asked gently, thinking he would need prosthetic’s. 

“Well, Grian’s working on making a bath tub for ya, so hopefully we can get this healed up without needing to take a limb off. Thankfully, it was too cold over where you were for any infection to get in, and Grian and I were careful when it came to touching any dead skin.” Mumbo said calmly, and Ren nodded as Grian called them over. 

Ren yelped as he was scooped up into Mumbo’s arms, walking over towards Mumbo’s hobbit hole. Grian had cleared out a space behind the nether portal, a larger tub filled with swirling water. “Strip em down lover boy~!” Grian laughed, and Ren chuckled at him as he sat down. 

With some help from Mumbo and Grian, they got him stripped down to his underwear- Briefs if anyone wanted to know- and into the water. Ren sighed out of content, his tail wagging under the water. Mumbo grinned, and Grian walked out to leave the two alone. 

“You scared the crap outta me.” 

“I know babe.”

“You should’ve asked for someone to go with you.”

“I know, babe.” Ren grinned lazily, sinking further down into the water. “Bathe with me?” He asked. Mumbo rolled his eyes. 

“Its not a bath. Its hydrotherapy.” He said, rolling up his sleeves. He reached into the water, taking Ren by the hand and gently helping him flex his fingers Ren went to open his mouth, but Mumbo cut him off. “And yes. I Did learn this from Doc.” He huffed. Both men shared a laugh. 

“I’m sorry Baby, for being so stupid.” Ren sighed, and Mumbo chuckled. 

“We’re two halves of the same Idiot, I suppose.” Mumbo’s voice was soft and fond, sitting at the edge of the water. “You better hope I don’t have to make you prosthetic’s. It’ll be a testing nightmare.” He sighed. Ren gasped excitedly. 

“Mumbo Jumbo brand prosthetic’s??? Man, I may just have to ruin my legs for those!” 

[rubyredsparks]

An Imposter’s Heart

Relationships: Anxceit (Platonic), everyone else is just friendships

Characters: Virgil, Janus “Deceit”, Patton, Logan, Roman, Emile, Remy, various ocs 

Tags: Among Us, Video Games - Freeform, Magic, Friendships, Queerplatonic Relationships, Cursing, Platonic Relationships, Chronic Illness, Card Tricks, Mentions of Quarantine, mentions of burn scars, mentions of vitiligo

Word Count: 3175

Summary: Quarantine sucks, especially if you're a chronically ill streamer and let's player. But it's nice to have friends and partners there to support you all the way.

And to accuse of murder.

AO3

"Is this your card?" Janus smirks when he holds up an eight of hearts, his audience clearly freaking out when it inevitably becomes clear that it is in fact their card. “I thought so, goodbye.” He clicks the button that takes him to the next participant.

“Hello,” he says, tipping his hat. While it has become difficult in getting gigs booked when he’s an amatuer magician (he’s not so much amatuer but young) becoming a MeTuber actually has become a much more entertaining way of living his dream and fucking over other people’s minds with illusions.

It’s much more fun, and much more lucrative.

“You’re that— that magician snake guy. Uhh, Deceit, right?” the participant says, clearly recognizing him. “I recognize you because of your whole—” a hand waves in front, gesturing towards a cheek.

Janus has never been one to shy away from his scars or his vitiligo, embracing them as his aesthetic and as much of his character as he can. And Virgil says it reminds him of scales and he definitely plays that up with makeup, adding to the whole snake character.

Janus nods in the affirmative, “I’m just here wondering if you can guess how I do this card trick. Would you like to guess?”

“Yeah! My grandpa was a magician and really liked to do card tricks. Maybe I can guess it!” they say eagerly.

Janus chuckles, flipping a card back and forth with his fingers. He doubts it. This trick he came up with all on his own. “Wonderful,” he murmurs. He singularly flips one card between two hands, forming a diamond with his thumb. He does it a few times, making sure that his participant sees the card appear and reappear a few times.

“Oh! I know how you do that. You— you take the card and put it between your fingers on your other hand behind your palm—”

“Really?” Janus says, doing it again. He looks down at his hands, feigning looking them over, spreading his fingers wide and then turning his hands back and forth to show that no card rested behind his fingers. “How do you do that?” he scratches his head, biting down a smile when his participant gawks at him.

“No, really, how do you do that?” Janus says with a faux sincere smile.

“I cannot,” his participant says, ducking their head and logging off to show the loading screen.

He chuckles, logging off of Omagle. Turning towards his camera, he smiles mysteriously. “Thank you for watching, I hope to see you on the morrow.” With a flirtatious wave, Janus turns off his camera.

With a sigh, he slumps back into his chair, groaning at yet another video he has to edit soon if he wants to make his weekly update. Being a MeTuber, as fun as it seems and is at times, is utterly exhausting. Not to mention what his roommate and partner deals with on a constant basis.

While he has gotten a bit of a subscriber jump ever since he played a few games of Amidst Us with the Sanders Shows gang, he won’t even begin to explain the hoops and valleys that his roommate went through to get such a jump.

Virgil, or as called by his online persona Corpse Emo, has gotten a 3 million subscriber jump ever since the normies as Janus liked to call them got addicted to his deep and soothing voice. Generally anxious, Virgil had freaked out. A Lot.

But Virgil loves being a MeTuber, Janus knows. He loves reading scary stories and making conspiracy theories about cryptids and other spooky things. But Janus also knows that Virgil gets freaked out by large numbers and performing if he doesn’t have everything handled.

Which is why he’s a faceless MeTuber and just a deep, soothing voice that people love to listen to. Something that Virgil is able to handle and control, to an extent. He obviously can’t help the fact that he has an incredibly recognizable voice or hair or hands.

So he compensates by being the main source of income and stays home while Janus goes out and gets the groceries and food. The little shit is lucky that Janus cares for him.

He hears the door to Virgil’s recording room open, and he blinks lazily. Groaning, he pulls himself up and stretches on his way out, only wearing half his usual attire and layers. With a scratch to his cheek, he leaves to meet Virgil out in the hallway.

“Gamer bladder?” Janus asks dryly when he sees Virgil zip through to the bathroom. He looks much too freaked to truly be in need of the restroom, eye bags darker than usual, so Janus assumes that Virgil needs to de-stress and take a moment to himself. The needs of the people too great and demanding. Janus can sympathize, fans can be the absolute worst sometimes.

Virgil flips him off, closing the door with a sharp thud. “Go entertain my chat,” Virgil’s words come out muffled behind the door, “they keep asking when Snake-Eyed Deceit is coming back on to play. It’s so fucking annoying.”

Janus would believe the indignation if Virgil doesn’t sound so fond. “You know I’m not much of a gamer, Virge,” Janus reminds him patiently.

“Just talk to them,” Virgil mutters, and Janus imagines Virgil curling into their bathtub with his hoodie drawn tight around him, lights turned off to complete the room. “Play a game if I take too long. It’s proximity anyway.”

Janus raps on the door lightly, “Just remember to drink some water. Did you take your meds?”

“Yes, mom,” Virgil rasps out, voice scratchy. “Fuck off.”

With a sigh, Janus raps an affirmative on the wood door and meanders his way down to Virgil’s recording room. He taps out a few greetings in chat, and then moves Virgil’s character blob in game.

“Emo, you’re back!” one of Virgil’s streamer friends cheers, doing a little wiggle in game.

“Not exactly,” Janus says into the mic lowly. A glance down at the chat shows them exploding in greetings to him with which he responds back politely. Doesn’t hurt to try and get new followers.

“Oh, it’s the Snake guy,” another says, and this voice Janus knows all too well.

“Hello to you, too, Roman,” Janus purrs. “Or should I call you Valkyrome? What a particularly creative name. Combining mythologies. Tell me, did you want to be a Valkyrie as a child.”

Roman puffs up, voice flustered, “Perhaps, they are one of the greatest warriors in Norse myths.”

“Oh, yes, I’m sure,” Janus says. He moves into the customization section of the game, changing from Virgil’s signature black and cat ears to yellow and a top hat. He keeps the name however, too lazy to change that. “How is everyone? It’s been a while since I’ve talked to you all. Yes, hello to you as well, chat.”

“Salutations, Snake,” Logic or Logan says monotonously in greeting. “I’m doing well.”

“HI, JAN!” Cupcake Harts, otherwise known as Patton Hart, cheers. Janus can’t help but twitch at the exorbitant cheerfulness, grating on his nerves a bit. Nothing against Patton, but the relentless sunshine can burn just a tad overwhelming sometimes.

Nevertheless, fondness tugs at his heart, “Hello again, Cupcake.”

“Is Corpse okay?” he asks, concern lacing every word. “He didn’t sound so lively last round. Is the kiddo good?”

“The Emo will be alright, but he gave me permission to play a few rounds as his little character for a bit if that would be alright.”

“Of course!” Patton says happily. “We don’t mind, do we?” Everyone else starts to overlap with words of reassurance at that, and Janus smiles. If anything, Janus is glad that Virgil was able to make friends this year. It has boosted the man’s confidence much more than it had been even if there is still some of that self-consciousness and anxiety that lingers.

“Alright, let’s start.” Logan cuts through the cacophony and the game counts down from five to begin.

---

“CUPCAKE WAS FAKING TASKS!” Roman screams when the meeting is called up, repeating it as much as he can. He clicks to vote instantly, not letting Patton explain.

Janus snickers at that, knowing for a fact that he was the imposter along with Remy.

“Roman, kiddo, do you really think that I would fake tasks with so many people in the room? I mean I could be the imposter, but I was alone so many times with Jodie.”

“He was,” Jodie confirms, “I don’t think that Cupcake is the imposter, he could’ve killed me so many times in specimen.”

“No, no Jodie, I mean I could be the imposter but that doesn’t mean that I couldn’t marinate you. I could just be playing a long game.”

“Ugh, he’s doing that double speak again,” Roman groans. “Cupcake, are you the imposter or not?”

“No, but I mean I could be,” Patton says with a mischievous tone that made Janus roll his eyes.

Janus skips his vote quickly, “Let’s just skip, there’s only one person dead.”

A murmur of agreement follows Janus’ declaration.

“Let me postulate this, but I think that the imposters are Deceit and Sleep.”

“How dare you—?” Remy immediately starts in on Logan, false offense filling up his words and making him much louder. Incessant clicking from their keyboard as rage fills their heart. “I will have you know that I was nowhere near the kill. You know what, I think it’s Specs, actually, he keeps framing me.

“Well, let’s settle down now,” Emile, otherwise known as Dr. Stitch, tries to intervene. “It’s only the first round of the game after all.”

“Uh, no can do, doc, not when my integrity is on the line.”

“What integrity,” Virgil mutters, and Janus whirled around in Virgil’s desk chair to see him leaning on the frame of the door.

“Is that Emo??” Patton squeals happily, “Hi! Are you taking over for Deceit? The game’s just started.”

Virgil shakes his head even though the only ones who can see are himself and Janus, his thick purple-brown curls falling in front of his brown eyes, “Nah, let Dee have a turn murdering everyone, I know he enjoys it.”

“Liess and slander,” Janus hisses, purposefully elongating his ‘s’ to make him seem more snake like.

“Does that mean Dee’s an imposter!?!” Roman screams as the meeting panel falls away and the little characters start running around crazily.

“I’m not the imposter, I’m not the imposter,” Janus lies reassuringly, shooting a dark glare at Virgil behind him as the taller one stifles his giggles, hiding the amusement in his eyes behind his hair.

He settles into Janus’ lap, completely obscuring the screen and his view of the game. “Emo, please let me play the game.”

“Hmm,” Virgil hums, tucking his head underneath Janus’ chin, a feat in and of itself given the height difference, “no, I’m comfortable. I’ll just sit here and talk to chat.”

With a sigh, Janus continues the arduous task of running around in the game with the much difficult challenge of having an emo in his lap. Virgil, for his part, looks very content and Janus can’t help but run his fingers through curly purple-brown hair.

“Hello, Roman.”

Roman yelps, “Who said that? How can you see me?” The lights in the game have been turned off and have been for a while, and Janus is taking advantage of the fact that Roman has been left in the far left hand corner of the map where people rarely go.

“Oh, Roman, Roman, Roman,” Janus says, tongue curling on his name with a knife. Roman screams, protesting and shouting for Janus not to do it. “Sorry about that, Ro,” Janus says with a manic giggle as he slices through Roman’s character.

“Big yikes,” Virgil murmurs. “No, chat, I’m not gonna do that, stop suggesting it. Anyway, yeah, I’m gonna be having some major collabs soon with some artists and I have so many cool projects on the way. Thank you guys so much for everything. We wouldn’t have gotten this far without you.”

“Aww, is that you, Emo? Are you talking to chat while Deceit plays?” Leslie pipes up, running close and in circles around Janus’ little blob character.

“Yup,” Virgil pops the last letter, “and guess what?”

“What?” Leslie asks just as Janus’ kill cooldown hit zero.

Janus clicks kill and Leslie screams in protest, her outrage cutting off when the body flops down onto the map. Virgil snorts out a laugh, cackling as Janus smiles indulgently, running around crazily on the map.

A new meeting is called up, this time two people have been killed, clearly shown on screen as having died: Roman and Leslie.

“Guys, guys, guys. I think Remy is the imposter,” Patton is saying. He’s the one who reported Leslie’s body“I’m pretty sure I saw him vent in electrical.”

“Excuse me, Kingdom Hearts!” Remy interrupts rudely. “I wasn’t even in electrical this round. You should get your prescription checked.”

“We needn’t vote here,” Logan interjects sagely. “We are, after all, on seven. But, need I remind you that Remy has been suspicious two rounds now and this time two bodies have been killed. I believe it would be wise to vote him off.”

“Uh uh, glasses here. I know you’re Mr. Big Brain and everything, but I am telling you that it ain’t me,” Remy takes a large sip of whatever drink he has on hand to emphasize his point.

With almost agreed silence, everyone votes and it’s an almost unanimous decision to vote off Remy, causing him to squawk.

“Oh no, you guys really voted for him? You guys voted him off?” Patton is saying as Remy starts screaming curse words and regret.

“What do you mean? You’re the one who said that you caught him venting—”

Janus starts to walk off, the conversation dying out the further he went. He walks to a secluded side of the map, making sure that no one can see as he waits for the cooldown.

“Think you can pull it off?” Virgil asks.

“Without a doubt,” Janus responds.

“What are you guys talking about?” Jodie walks up, suspicion in her question.

“Oh nothing,” Virgil starts, “except this—” and Janus clicks to kill.

Virgil starts talking to both chat and the other players as Janus starts his murder spree quietly. The two of them work as partners, Virgil talking and distracting the players as Janus offs them one by one.

Janus accidentally kills a person in front of someone else, but luckily he didn’t seem to see. “Okay, so I think this was Dragon,” Jace is saying.

Dragon immediately protests, “What do you mean? Where’s the body?”

“Emo, you just walked into admin, right? Did you see Dragon run out?” Jace asks.

“Um, maybe, I think so, yeah?” Virgil says, playing dumb.

“Then it’s Dragon. They were the one to kill, I saw them run out of admin just as the body flopped. Emo, back me up here.”

“Wait, what? I wasn’t even near—”

“AND they were sus last round, so.”

Quite easily, Dragon is voted off, but the game continues.

“I don’t get it, I thought it was Dragon and Sleep,” Jace says.

“Unless it was a self-report,” Logan posits. “You could’ve been caught by Dragon or Emo and you just reported to throw suspicion off yourself.”

Janus called up the meeting button, and Virgil got ready to speak, “Well, we could always 50/50 it. One of them has to be the imposter, right? We’re sure we got out one of them earlier with Remy and if it wasn’t Dragon, then it has to be Jace.”

“No, listen, Emo, I am begging you. I am on my knees, literally in real life right now, don’t vote for me, I am innocent. Please, I’m literally on my knees right now! It’s not me!!”

“Patton, I’m trusting you here,” Logan says. “Do you really think it’s Jace and not Emo?”

“Emo wouldn’t do that to us,” Patton says, though a bit unsurely, “and here’s the thing if Emo’s the imposter then he’ll win and get his video, but if he’s not then we win as crewmate. Either way, it’s a win-win situation!”

“What? Guys! That’s not how this works,” Jace pleads. “Please, it’s not me! I’m serious.”

But too late, the votes come in and Jace is voted out, his character yeeted out into space. And the game continues.

Logan screams in realization, “Patton, I trusted you! It’s Emo, it’s Emo. Oh my goodness. Patton, run! Run!”

“Logan, I have been waiting for this moment my entire life—” Virgil says manically as Logan starts to lose it, running around and screaming at Patton that he trusted Patton and that they voted off the wrong person.

Virgil calls a sabotage and starts to really race after Logan.

“Logan, I was right!” Patton says, slowly trailing after them just to keep up with the conversation. “That means Emo does get to have his video. And I get to be in it! Either way, it’s a win!”

Janus loses it, laughing just as hard as everyone else when Virgil finally manages to click the kill button, the victory screen loading up just as quickly as everyone’s voices come back loud and cheery.

“Good game, everybody—”

“Emo, that was hilarious—”

“Patton, I trusted you—”

“YOU GUYS VOTED ME OUT???—”

Virgil smiles up at Janus from his perch on Janus’ lap, contentment swimming in those brown eyes. Janus is helpless to smile back, even if he’s a bit overwhelmed by the noises. He nuzzles the top of Virgil’s head, burying his face in dark purple-brown curls.

“That was an amazing game, oh my gosh—”

Virgil buries himself into Janus’ warm body, a catlike grin stretching across his face. “Good job, Jan,” he whispers, making sure that chat doesn’t hear the name.

“I think you should be getting that congratulations, little Emo nerd,” Janus says dryly. “You got the final kill of the game after all.”

“Hey, Emo and Dee cheated! They worked together—!”

“We were using one character, jackass! It’s not our fault you guys didn’t think it was us!” Virgil yells back in retaliation, laughter edging on his words. More protests and compliments and whatnot continued as the gamers started arguing over each other again.

Warmth wraps around Janus like a warm hug and he wraps his own arms around Virgil as he continues heckling and joking around with friends, a new game already started. Virgil squirms in his hold to sit in his lap properly so that Virgil’s back is to Janus’ chest, moving to get comfortable.

“Alright, we won’t play together again—” Virgil is saying. Janus just holds Virgil in his lap tightly, contentment curling around him and settling into his stomach like a warm meal.

Sometimes life sucks, giving you chronic illness or vitiligo and burn scars. But sometimes life doesn’t suck so much when you have friends by your side and laughter surrounding you.

A/N: @sanderssidesgiftxchange Hi, @emo-does-things!!! I was your Secret Sanders this year and I hope I was able to fulfill your wish! I honestly couldn’t decide between the two things that I wrote, so you get two fics! Happy Winter and I hope you’re staying safe and that you enjoyed this!!!

[asherranceoftheheart]

Icarus Falls - III - The Good Doctor Comes Home

Story Summary: “You’ll never leave me alone right?“ “You think I’d actually let you go?”

A story about the slow descent and corruption of a lonely man, a demon who learns that bonds go both ways, brothers who deeply regrets their words spoken out of anger, and a conflicted man watching them all fall down from the distance. Here’s a Puppet!Chase AU that was written with extreme self-indulgence so beware and read the tags before entering.

Chapter Summary: Chapter title says it all lol but also a breather chapter Pairing/s: None, Platonic Character/s: Jack McLoughlin, Chase Brody, Antisepticeye, Henrik Von Schneeplestein, Mentions of Other Septic Egos Genre: Angst, Fluff Chapter Warning/s: Self-Deprecating Thoughts (Thoughts like I’m not as good as the others, etc.), Sadness, extremely vague mentions of torture (Archive Of Our Own Edition)  (Prev. Chapter)

Do you ever have one of those days when you wake up feeling both numb, and raw and sensitive on the inside and thinking ‘Ah. It’s one of those days…’ and wondering if it’s even worth the effort to open your eyes and move?

Chase felt emotionally and physically drained with a rocking throbbing headache as he woke up in a cold empty bed, tucked in like a child under the blankets. He stared up at the ceiling blankly, looking and thinking of nothing in particular until the memories began to come in crystal clear film in his mind. His hand twitched as he remembered the warmth of another person enveloping him even if that person had been his mortal enemy.

A part of him wanted to hate himself for missing, for yearning for the addicting affectionate touches that his enemy showered him with while he had been dreadfully sick. After all, had he become so desperate after nearly nine months of having no positive physical contact with other people that he would take comfort in the demon who was the main cause for why it was happening in the first place? However, a bigger part of himself was just tired, so very tired of the constant emotional olympics his self-hatred would force him to go through every single day.

He closed his eyes and for a moment, he allowed his own mind and heart to fool himself and pretend that the last part of yesterday never happened. He chose to believe in the fleeting happiness of the illusion that his best friend had never gone into a coma and tht Anti was merely a part of an excruciatingly long nightmare.

When he opened his eyes again, the sun had gone down outside but he can’t find the energy in himself to give a fuck about time moving on without him.

Chase heard his phone buzz with new notifications. He stomped down the flickering spark of hope that it would be any of his brothers finally answering his messages and calls. He knows that he can’t keep blocking out the world like this especially when the world needs him to be Jack McLoughlin so with an exhausted grunt, he slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position and reached over to the left bedside drawer to grab his phone.

He pressed the button on the side and was relieved to see that it was just Doctor Adam rather than one of Jack’s friends asking Jack if he was alright.

Dr. Adam: Mr. Brody? You haven’t replied to my messages for a while. Is everything alright?

The concern from the doctor melted some of the ice numbing his heart. This man really reminded him of Henrik albeit softer and more formal.

Chase: I’m ok doc. But I don’t think I’ll be able to drop by for a while. Think I caught a bug on the way back or something and I don’t want to transfer any of it to Jack. I’ll try to take a few more days off until I’m sure I’m okay. :)

Dr. Adam: Ah! I thought so… You’ve never missed a day visiting your brother unless you were really sick. So I was worried. But since you said that you’re okay I have to trust that you know yourself and your limits by now. Do take care of yourself! Get a lot of sleep, eat something even if it’s just buttered toast (altho I would prefer if you ate healthier foods…), drink lots of liquid, and make sure you take your medicine.

Chase: Yea, I’ve been doing all that Just keep me updated on Jack pls?

Dr. Adam: But of course, I know how much you worry over your brother. Anyway, I’ll leave you to rest. I hope you get well soon!

‘I hope I do too, Doc.’ Chase wiped a hand over his weary face with a loud sigh.

He placed his phone down on his bed when his eyes caught sight of something sharing the same drawer that his phone had been placed in earlier. It was his medicine and it was placed on top of what appeared to be a note. He knows what the pills were obviously for but the note awakened some of his curiosity and anger.

It was obvious who wrote that note.

He wanted to run over to his desk and grab his lighter to burn that seemingly innocent looking white paper as anybody with a shred of common sense should. However he knows himself. He knows his curiosity over what the note would contain would itch at him for a long long time if he didn’t find out what it said.

He inhaled deeply and slowly let the air out as a low hiss through gritted teeth while he mussed up his already messed up hair.

“Fucker,” Chase insulted both the demon for taking advantage of his thrice damned curiosity that could rival the stubbornness of a spoiled cat, and himself for falling for this obvious show of manipulation as he forced his arm to reach out and grabbed the paper.

He crumpled the note into a wrinkly ball and stared down at it with some trepidation. What horrific message will this paper contain? Was it going to contain some blackmail worthy secret? Maybe taunt him for his complete breakdown yesterday? Jesus Christ… He literally fell apart on top of the bastard. He’d wish he could erase the memory but Anti would probably take that as permission to completely fuck him up mentally and maybe possess him as a little treat.

Well, he can’t keep stalling for more time like a coward. He uncrumpled the paper, smoothing it out on his covered lap, and read it with some trepidation.

One pill every eight hours from the moment you wake up. Going to be busy for a while. Don’t wait up for me, little brother. You’re still sick so don’t have a breakdown every other hour. Remember I’M ALWAYS WATCHING

Chase stared down at the note that was practically dripping with sarcasm with an expressionless gaze. A form of calm had settled down upon him and he almost absentmindedly started to rip the note in half. He doesn’t know what to feel about the laughably simple note. Should he get angry? Should he spend the time away from the bastard trying to decode some sort of hidden message from it?

In the end, he decided that it wasn’t worth the energy to get annoyed or obsessed over the taunt. He spent the next few minutes tearing the note into teeny tiny pieces before he left it scattered all over the top of his lap in unsalvageable scraps.

The ripping and tearing actually brought him some satisfaction which he relished in no matter how tiny it was. He swept the mess off his bed with a wide wave and watched it free fall to the floor like snow during winter. The man slid off his bed and spitefully ignored the medicine before he dragged himself over to the bathroom to freshen up.

He took a short shower, changed into fresh new indoor clothes, and dried his hair with a towel before brushing it up until it stayed neat and fluffy on his head. A sudden burst of productive energy suddenly shot through his entire body when he looked over the entirety of his room and realized just how filthy he had let it become over the months.

Chase could almost hear Anti sneering at him at the back of his head, telling him how useless and broken he was when nobody is there to pull him forward like a fucking donkey.

A massive wave of spite mixed in with his burst of energy and he began walking around the room to gather up his dirty clothes to put inside a hamper that he carried over to his laundry room to load up inside the washing machine. Then before working the machine, he went back to his room to change his bed sheets and blanket to a clean one before hefting them all up to the laundry room. While the washer was humming and vibrating as it got to work, he grabbed two big trash bags from his current location before he walked back to his bedroom.

The first step to feeling better after another one of your long episodes is to clear up the clutter that built up around you. It will help you associate clearing up as another way of resetting your own point of view.

A tiny smile twitched up at the corner of his lips as Henrik’s gruff but gentle voice as he coaxed him from his bed in the past. He separated his trash into two bags and straightened up to look around his now cleaner room. Chase tied up the trash bags so that none of them would spill out before he opened up his window and smiled faintly at the refreshing evening breeze that brushed against his heated face.

Then he walked over to his closet to bring out the Roomba that he hasn’t used for a while, letting out a victorious ‘heh’ when it still worked and placed it in the middle of his room before turning it on to roam around the floor to suck up the dust that built up over the past months.

He gave his cleaner and brighter bedroom another look over with satisfaction pulsing in his chest before making two trips up and down the stairs to take out the trash that he just collected and move the piled up dirty mugs on his desk down to the kitchen.

“How’s this for being useless and broken, asshole?” Chase spitefully said into the empty air towards the absent being who insulted him daily when he was there. “Fuck you.”

Chase huffed to himself in the middle of the kitchen while he was crouched over his dishwasher, loading it up with all the dirty dishes. After he closed the thing’s door, he realized as his stomach growled rather loudly, that he was pretty hungry.

“I’m hungry but I’m not in the mood for anything too heavy or chewy…” Chase hummed while he browsed the contents of his fridge. He leaned over and grabbed the covered bowl at the back of the fridge. “Oh hey, this was the cream of mushroom soup I ordered a week ago… It doesn’t smell bad so I guess it’s still fine!”

He heated it up on the stove before scooping them all up into a clean bowl. He placed a spoon with it before he walked over to the living room. Chase turned on the TV before laying on his side at the couch while he slurped up his soup.

‘Man… If Hen was here he’d probably be telling me that this soup isn’t healthy enough for me,’ Chase chuckled to himself, eyes misting over with nostalgia over the memories of his most fussy older brother. ‘Then he’d threaten to tie me up on a chair and feed me his horrid homemade food.’

Henrik might be one of the smartest people in the world but his cooked food… There’s a reason why he was never allowed to cook for them during their weekly gatherings. He remembered Marvin telling him a story about his first time of coming into contact with Henrik’s Mystery Food and swearing on his name and magic that it had a living soul.

“It’s not that bad!” He would hear Henrik stomping his feet on the floor while imagining the lethal glare he’d give his brothers while they gently redirected him even as he’s protesting the discrimination loudly from the kitchen.

“Henrik please… Every single bite Jackie makes of your food immediately sends him to the hospital and you of all people know that he’s immune to nearly all sorts of poison.” Jack squeezed the fuming doctor’s tensed shoulders in an attempt to calm him down.

“Come on, Jack-Jack. You don’t have to sweeten the truth up for our mother hen,” Marvin’s delighted and mischief-filled voice would snicker from the other room where he was probably curled up on the floor near the window to get the maximum sunshine. “Henrik, your food tastes so bad that Jackie’s mind blocked out any memory of the taste to protect him from relieving the trauma.”

“As if your cooking is any better!” Henrik would shoot back scathingly.

“At least I can survive on it on my own and feed some of it to others!” Marvin would have puffed up as he readied himself for their banter.

“Guys please,” Jackie, ever the peacemaker, would try to calm the duo down while Jack wouldn’t even try and raise the white flag the second they start.

Chase laughed to himself at the present time as he recalled the loud racket Marvin and Henrik would make while they exchanged light-hearted insults. He would’ve been in the kitchen, humming and smiling while he busied himself with his cooking. A few minutes later would find Creator and Hero skulking back to his safe grounds with their tails tucked neatly between their legs and trying to help him but he’d just easily shoo them off to pout at the kitchen table.

‘I wish Jamie had experienced that before everything went to complete shit,’ Chase’s smile turned bittersweet at that stray thought. ‘Henrik and Jack would’ve loved him. He and Hen would probably spend some nights drinking tea in the middle of the night with each other. He’d have helped curtail some of Marvy’s sharp nature with a light smack on the shoulder. Jackie would’ve been so glad to have someone helping him act as the peacemaker of the family. Jack… Jack would’ve adored him. He’d gush about how Jamie was so spirited, so sassy, expressive and—and how he and Marvy always loved so fiercely…’

Chase licked his spoon clean (Marvin would’ve been looking at him with disgust and tell him that he’s a mannerless savage which… bold words for someone who would lick their balls while in their cat form) and dropped it down with a loud ear ringing clang on the now empty bowl before placing them on the living room table. He scooched over and laid down on his back on the couch and crossed his arms at the back of his head as a makeshift pillow while he reminisced.

Anti might insult him for doing nothing else but think of the past but it was the only thing that gave Chase the energy to keep moving forward even if he didn’t really want to. For the sake of all his loved ones who would’ve wanted to experience those memories in the future with them after all of these bullshit… Yeah, he’d trudge through all the painful days for them.

He closed his eyes and tried his darnest to remember anything memorable that had happened since the others left him behind but other than Anti’s unforgettable presence, everything else passed by in a blur.

“Damn,” Chase sighed, his smile lacking any light nor humor to it. “Anti really had a point when he said that I’m useless without the others huh?”

It is not your fault, Chase. Depression has the tendency to mix all your memories together in an unrecognizable blur. Do not worry. We are always here to help you remember.

“Unfortunately Doc,” Chase sighed as he sat up and grabbed the dirty bowl and spoon to place them together in the washer. “The only person left who’ll help me remember the past months is a complete bastard who I wouldn’t entrust my head to even if I had to choose between him and pain.”

Not that he really wanted to remember anything… He’s pretty sure that if he remembered anything it would just be of him whining about his loneliness, Anti fucking him up, and trying to keep up the Jack mask so that nobody else would find out that something had gone wrong.

He went back upstairs and moved the wet clothes from the washing machine to the dryer and loaded up the dirty bed sheets and blanket to the washing machine before heading straight for his bedroom. The Roomba died under his desk, having lost all of its battery while he was downstairs, and he scrounged through his dark closet for its charging adapter. Once the Roomba was set up and charging, he changed into his new pajamas and slipped back under his blankets.

He continued ignoring the set of pills on the drawer and turned on his side so that he could curl up under the sheets. Chase powered on Jack’s phone and waited for it to load so that he could check the comatose man’s social media. Another mentally and emotionally draining part of his imitation job was to maintain the Jack mask while pretending that the man was A-Okay and there was no reason for concern.

First, he pulled up Twitter and made a face when he realized that somebody posted something on the account while he was sick. Thank god it was just a little message to everyone that he was going to be on a break for a while because he was sick. It was still creepy that Anti could perfectly copy Jack’s mannerisms as he looked through the little retweets-interaction with everybody. Even he had some hard time fully copying his best friend’s posting quirks.

Either way, it was still annoying and stressful to Chase how the demon could keep pulling these kinds of shit with Jack’s social media. Maybe he should change to passwords and login info to everything while Anti was god knows where.

…

Chase sighed and shrugged. Then again, it’s not like that would be effective anyway. He knows that Anti was the one who keeps reblogging art of himself on the tumblr account even though he was pretty sure he changed the password nearly fifty times over the past few months. It never fazed him.

Speaking of tumblr… A part of him wanted to resent the community for giving the demon so much power through their attention via art, theories, and stories but he knows that it wouldn’t be fair of him to blame them for something that is completely out of their control. It’s not like they knew that the thing with Anti which they knew to be an ‘ARG-like’ story for the channel was actually his and his brother’s reality. Most of them were just people who were enthusiastic for the escapism their ‘story’ provided and he couldn’t exactly fault them for that.

He decided to update twitter that he’s feeling much better than before and that he’ll go back to filming videos tomorrow. The replies were almost immediate as the community reassured him that it would be fine if he took more days off to recover fully and he can’t help but smile at their unending support even if it was actually directed towards Jack. He knows that they wouldn’t mind it if he took an entire week off but he gets really antsy when he’s not putting up any content for the channel.

It feels like if he doesn’t keep it up, there’ll be nothing left for Jack to wake up to, all the hard work he put into this channel and community has been one of his brother’s ultimate joys. He doesn’t want to see Jack’s devastation if he also loses the community that he so dearly loved to the coma.

Besides… It’s not like he can afford to slack off while the others are trying their hardest to save Jack. This and taking care of Jack was the only thing that he could do to be of some use rather than become another burden to his brothers.

After he read and replied to a few more retweets, he turned off Twitter and moved his attention to the other big gathering place for the community. He tapped Tumblr’s app button and scrolled down Jack’s blog and let out a sharp, annoyed exhale when he saw that Anti had been busy reblogging things related to him or him torturing the other egos while Chase had been indisposed. A lot of the theorists hit the nail on the head when they theorized that the one who had been reblogging Anti-related things without any caption had been Anti.

It must have been something about Tumblr’s wonky programming but Anti can’t say anything or it’ll come out all glitched and zalgoed. Of course, he could’ve gotten maximum attention that way but he probably thought that it would be much better to have the fans stewing and trying to obsess over every single action that may or may not relate to Anti by having it all be a mystery.

Sometimes Chase wondered if maybe he and his brothers could make use of the community’s eagle-eyed observations that tend to hit right most of the time to help them find out a way to save Jack. He’s lost count of how many times they’ve managed to notice something that he hasn’t noticed such as a little subtle glitch on the video’s audio, a flash of someone in the back of his facecam, or even changes in the description or titles of the videos that was definitely not made by him.

Their skills would’ve been impressive if it wasn’t downright frightening for how obsessed they seem to be with Anti.

He reblogged a few cool artworks and edits with little words of encouragement under their captions. Then he’d like some of the little sneak peeks to the daily lives of the community members that always made him smile because at least these funky little people are doing their best to live. It’s a nice reminder and boost to the morale that there was a reason why he was also doing this other than to keep the channel up and running for Jack’s comeback.

Chase stretched out his arms and legs with a jawbreaking yawn as he felt the sleepiness settle in. He looked at the time on his phone and made a face when he saw how late  it was. No wonder his eyes were starting to blur with sleep. He decided to set his alarm clock up for the morning. He’s gotta wake up early to prepare himself to go under the Jack mask and record a video after all.

The tired man scooched underneath the blanket, covering himself up to his bed and curled up into a tight ball while tugging the sheets around him. A spark of pride welled up inside his chest when he thought back on how he managed to do a little bit of productivity in tidying up his bedroom. While he definitely started out the day rough and numb, he managed to salvage it by the end.

At the end of the day, it’s these teeny tiny baby steps that would bring you much farther than you thought when you look back in the future. So do not sell yourself short, Chase Brody.

Never forget that we are always proud of you no matter how inconsequential you believe your little progress was.

Henrik’s gruff but gentle voice echoed through his mind, easily drowning out all the insecurities and dark voices sneering at him for his pride. For the first time in a long while, Chase fell asleep with a faint but sincere smile on his lips.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

“Maybe you should’ve jumped higher for that trick shot so that you wouldn’t have fallen over and broken your foot,” Jack’s voice shook with silent laughter as he leaned on Chase’s side while they both watched Henrik scrambling around, fussing over Chase’s foot that was placed in a cast, and fluffing up pillows to squeeze behind Chase’s back while he’s relaxed on the couch and worrying his head over whether his broken foot was raised high enough.

Henrik spun around and levelled a death glare towards his creator who instinctively raised both hands in a show of harmlessness, the doctor bared his teeth at him, “If you keep encouraging him to do more reckless acts I will break your own leg.”

Chase coughed and choked on a laugh and gave his doctor older brother a smile full of innocence and sunshine when he swiftly turned around to glare at him as well while Jack sputtered in the background. Jackie was dying on the floor. He sounded like he was about to upgrade from his booming cackling to wheezing, dying laughter.

“Wh— You took an oath to never harm another human when you became a doctor!” Chase turned his head to look at Jack when he felt him sitting up straight and leaning forward with an outraged look.

“I did no such thing,” Henrik snubbed. “It was whichever fake Schneeplestein that magic made to explain my existence in this universe that made such an oath.”

“You’re still a doctor!” Jack yelled vehemently, slapping a hand on his knees.

Henrik sniffed. He looked down at Jack from behind his nose and made him feel like he was some worm tainting the bottom of his shiny shoes. Then the doctor dramatically turned his back on the pouting man obviously giving him the cold shoulder.

“Chaaaase,” Jack twisted his body to ‘sob’ into his best friend’s shoulder. “Henny’s being mean to me again!”

“There, there,” Chase snickered as he patted the older man’s curly hair. “I won’t let the big bad doctor bully you anymore.”

Jack turned his head so that his cheek was pressed on top of Chase’s shoulder and he stuck his tongue out at Henrik who rolled his eyes back at him.

A massive white maine coone glided into the chaotic living room, jumping up on the back of the couch, and strolled over to smack Jack’s face with his outrageously long and fluffy tail—while ignoring the annoyed yelp ‘Marvin!’ before the poor man started sneezing and cursing the magician’s existence—as he slid down a bemused Chase’s torso into his lap. He rubbed his fluffy body against his little brother’s chest with a loud meow for his greeting.

“Hey to you too, Marvy,” Chase chuckled as the cat began to purr.

Marvin’s purr grew louder until he was practically like a growling motorcycle and arched his spine when Chase’s fingers stroked him from the bridge of his pink nose down to his tailbone. The heavy white cat kneaded his claws into Chase’s baggy shorts before circling around—ignoring Chase’s agonized groan at his weight—and curling up into a smug self-satisfied ball on his lap.

“You satisfied now, Drama Queen?” Chase teased the magician with a fond smile while he scratched the cat on the perfect spot behind his ears. “I think we should put your cat form on a diet. You’re getting pretty heavy.”

The cat nipped at his fingers with a hint of a warning bite but Chase just tapped his prickly older brother on his nose as a gentle reprimand. He only got a bunch of annoyed chattering for his daring gall to touch his majesty.

“Marvin, you better not bite anyone again,” Henrik dryly warned the magician who hissed at him. “Don’t think I can’t sedate you into going to the vet and getting you neutered.”

Marvin let out an offended yowl and attempted to stuff his massive unit of a body under Chase’s shirt, drawing giggles from the man who tried pushing his fluffy butt away as his squirming body dragged his soft fur over his ticklish stomach.

“Marvin, you fucker!” Chase squealed and tried to pull out the squirming cat who somehow managed to find the perfect position and perk out only his head from under his shirt. “Really? You’re going to subject me to your stinky butt for the entire movie marathon?”

His only response was a thick tail that thwapped his sputtering face.

“Aww… It’s just his way of showing you his love, Chasey-wasey,” Jackie giggled without looking up from his phone. “Also I can’t blame Marv for wanting to snuggle up to you. You’re like a portable heater slash teddy bear.”

“Yeah well, I’d say Marvy would be like a teddy bear too if it weren’t for the fact that he weighs like a rock on top of my kidneys,” Chase deadpanned before smacking Marvin’s back through his shirt irritably. “Use your claws on me again and I’ll neuter you myself without the help of a vet.”

Jack snickered at the irritated mewl from the cat while Henrik huffed and rolled his eyes at their antics. The doctor sat on the right couch seat and pulled the side lever up so that he could fully recline his body and feet. Jack leaned over and grabbed the remote from the table in front of him and Chase.

“Everybody finally settled down for our movie night?” He asked, just to make sure so that nobody would suddenly whine in that childish sort of voice that he didn’t wait for them again.

coughJackiecough

Jackie gave him a thumbs up and finally looked up from his phone. He was laying on his stomach on the blanket he set on the floor with a variety of pillows forming his nest around him. His own bowl of popcorn and a massive bottle full of Sprite was set in front of him.

Chase makes an agreeing grunt while he leaned on him on his side, taking care not to move his cast while Marvin chirruped from under his shirt, his little head poking out directing his nose to the bowl of popcorn on the table. Henrik just shrugged and gestured his head towards the screen.

“Just get on with it. If anybody was not ready I am sure that they’ll be letting out some godforsaken complaint through their loud mouths,” Henrik scathingly said but his eyes glimmered with laughter, taking off the bite from his words. He merely arched an eyebrow at everyone when they childishly stuck out their tongues at him.

Jack huffed and shook his head at the brotherly banters. No family activity would be the same without these chaotic preparations and quips from the others. He pressed play on the remote and started the movie. He sat back on the couch with Chase, his smile unconsciously growing wider when the youngest ego scooched closer to him.

…

“Is he asleep?” Henrik asked in a hushed tone as he craned his neck to look at Chase’s face which was hiding away against Jack’s side.

Jack nodded with a gentle smile and pressed a finger against his lips in the universal sign for silence. He slowly began to shift himself so that he could move Chase into laying down fully on the couch and for his head to be placed on his lap. Henrik assisted him, carrying the younger ego’s legs into the couch and made sure that his injured foot was raised with a few pillows propped underneath and around it to keep it from moving.

Chase made a soft noise and pressed his cheek on Jack’s stomach while the older man petted his head, idly rubbing a thumb against the healed over scar that would ache from time to time especially when Chase is particularly emotional. The sleeping man sighed contentedly in his sleep and murmured something far too unintelligible for either man to hear. Henrik grabbed one of the free blankets remaining to place it over Chase, tucking him under the warm sheets.

“I’ll get the other blankets—Marvin!” Henrik hissed as the cat that had been watching them from the table, slowly walked over to jump on Chase’s chest. Chase’s breath hitched but thankfully he didn’t wake up. Chase wrapped his arms around the cat who had stretched himself out over his little brother’s body and tucked his head under his chin. “You’re so lucky he’s a heavy sleeper. If you woke him up I would have shaved you, you needy cat.”

The cat flicked his ears at Henrik and made a show of nuzzling the bottom of Chase’s chin and purring almost as loud as a starting motorcycle to spite the doctor by showing just how comfortable he was in his makeshift bed.

Jack rolled his eyes at the little drama queen before he looked back at Henrik with a pleading smile, “Blankets please? It’s pretty chilly around here at night.”

Henrik sighed and nodded. He carefully maneuvered himself out of the crowded living room. Jackie had spreaded out his entire body on his own side of the room, snoring lightly while drool trailed down his cheek. Henrik made sure that he didn’t touch on the territory of the unknowing human venus flytrap who’d snap his arms around your legs in a flash the moment you stepped within his area of attack. Last time one of them (poor Marvin… despite screaming and trying to squirm out of those iron arms...) fell for that trap, they had to deal with a clingy as a leech Jackie for the entire night.

He went upstairs to grab extra blankets and pillows for him and Jack since someone (Jackie…) hoarded most of them for their nest and one of the original blankets was placed over Chase. When he went back down, Marvin was already asleep, his cat body slowly moved up and down to his rhythmic breathing. Jack was staring down at Chase’s face with a blank look which generally meant that the man was probably thinking something that was bothering him again.

As he passed by his creator, he gave the man a gentle smack on the back of his head with his elbow. “This is not the time for complicated thoughts. This is family time.”

Jack jolted at the hit and his voice, turning his head to make a silly face at him.

“I know, I know, I just can’t help it, Hen,” Jack sighed and patted Chase’s head. He peered at the doctor when he saw what he was carrying. “Huh, you got those from the closet in the hallway?”

“Where else would I get it? Here,” Henrik made Jack lean over so that he could place two pillows on the back of his neck. “Support for your neck.”

“Thanks,” the other man gave him a thumbs up with one of his free hands. “Can you uh place my blanket over my lap? I’ll move Chase’s head a bit.”

“Wait your impatient butt. I am just going to move around the couch.” Henrik said as he walked over to his own spot to drop his pillows and blanket before moving over to Jack.

Jack carefully lifted Chase’s head so that Henrik could slip the blanket over his lap. He absentmindedly rubbed a thumb over the sleeping man’s head when his brows furrowed at the movement and he looked like he was about to wake from his sleep. Thankfully, he settled down once he was returned to his previous position only he curled closer to his creator’s warmth.

“Ah man, Chase really is the best little brother I could ever ask for,” Jack sighed with a fond smile softening the weariness from his face.

Henrik snorted, giving Chase a little pat on his head before he walked back to his couch chair and dropped his body on it.

“And you say you don’t play favorites,” Henrik accusingly narrowed his eyes at Jack who stuck his tongue out at him.

“And I’ll keep saying it no matter how much you guys accuse me of it,” Jack grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

The doctor rolled his eyes before spreading his own blanket over him. He turned over on his side and snubbed Jack with his back, ignoring the ‘Oh real mature, Henrik!’ that Jack shot towards him quietly.

“Goodnight Mister McLoughlin,” Henrik said in the snobbiest tone he could muster.

“Are you seri— Oh whatever, goodnight to you too, Doctor Schneeplestein.” He heard Jack huff and mutter something incomprehensible with his distance under his breath.

Henrik stifled a smile and his chuckle as he felt his creator fake pouting even with his back turned against him.

As he closed his eyes, he was highly aware of the sounds of soft breathing (or snoring in Jackie’s case…) coming from everyone in the room and he thinks that it’s the most beautiful sound he has ever heard his entire life.

He wished that he could stay in this single moment in time for as long as he wanted, to engrave it in his memories for when the nights are cold and when deep regrets are keeping him awake.

0-0-0-0-0

“Testing! Teeeeesting… Alright, the mic and audio seems to be okay,” Chase squinted at his face cam, flicking a finger in front of its lens to get its autofocus clearing up on his face. He brightened up when the camera finally focused just right! “Attaboy! Now we can finally start recording.”

He’s done his vocal warmups before he started setting up everything and even made sure that the house was nice and locked up and made sure that he doesn’t need to go for a pee break for one to two hours. Those moments are always a hassle and awkward for him and Robin to cut out. Not to mention it’s always a bit of a distraction especially when he is finally in the zone for the camera.

He also has his own lil water container filled with delicious fresh water in front of him, out of the camera’s point of view, just so he could freshen up his voice from all the screaming and yelling that he was about to do. While voice cracks are fun to jump from from a comedic point, it’s not nice to be known as the loudest Irish youtuber who still has voice cracks like a teenager going through puberty.

The phone has been muted and set on vibrate, and the games have been pulled up and listed on his desktop ready for recording!

Today’s video recording theme is… those medical surgery related games.

It had been an idea that had been drifting around his mind for a while but he didn’t have the mental and emotional energy to bother with the vivid reminders of his missing older brother. Maybe this was just another way of spiting Anti for what he had done to him a two days ago in his vulnerable state just like how his sudden burst of energy fueled him to prove that he wasn’t completely useless all alone by tidying up his wreck of a room in the middle of the night.

He knew that Anti seems to have it out for Henrik just as personally as he has it out for Jack since any mention of his brother has the demon hissing and spitting rage which he found rather peculiar since he’d have thought that the demon would be using what he’s doing to Henrik as another one of his taunts and considering he probably has the upper hand over the doctor right now. He stopped mentioning Henrik after that one moment when Anti had gone frighteningly still with his eyes glowing bloody murder towards him and then disappeared for a few hours. When he came back, he was covered in blood and Chase wisely didn’t ask him from whom it came from.

Since then, they never talked about it although Anti’s presence would be unbearable whenever he played any medical related game since it always felt like the demon was breathing down his neck (although knowing his luck he probably did but since he didn’t care enough to turn around and see that horrifying sight he’d like to believe that it never happened) just daring him to mention anything about his beloved doctor of a brother. The only time Anti made any comment about Henrik was literally that postcard hack on tumblr. That was a hell of a thing to open the app to.

He could feel the smugness rolling off Anti’s shadowed corner in waves during that day and he had to stop himself from vaulting over the couch to grab the demon who’s been pestering (severe understatement, he knows but still—) him for months and demand what the fuck he’s planning with the postcard.

Anyway, now that Anti wasn’t here (and thank fuck for that) he’s free to record and post this fun little thing for the channel. Honestly, it’s pretty odd to have the past two days of complete silence from Anti but it was also extremely refreshing and absolutely rejuvenating for his spirit. Oh, he didn’t doubt the ‘Always Watching’ threat from his last note but this was the most peaceful and private he’s been for the past months.

Chase adjusted the headset over his ears, checking to make sure that it wasn’t uncomfortable, before he stretched out his arms and body for the long recording session, releasing a satisfied groan at the obscenely loud cracks that his joints made with the stretch.

Okay… Close your eyes…

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

In the next few hours, Chase Brody will not exist. Instead, another man will take his place. How would he react to certain things and events? How would he act out a carefree skit of a parodied impersonation of their resident doctor?

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Turn the chair around and…

Click

Something snaps into place as his lips stretched itself out into a familiar crooked goofy grin at the sound of his mouse clicking. The metaphorical mask slipping over his face felt so much more natural than when it was taken off at this point in time. He swung his chair around and greeted the invisible audience on the other side of the screen.

“Hello and welcome back! I am Doctor Jacksepticeye,” he both recognizes and doesn’t recognize the face that was looking back at him on the recording screen, “and welcome to my ER!”

It was easy, always so so easy to step into his shoes, to become someone who is dearly beloved by so many people, to become someone who has inspired this community to follow him. Every time he slips this mask on for the screen he always experienced this high knowing that for once he won’t be someone who was miserably alone and useless to his loved ones. If he immersed himself deeper into this mask, he could even believe that the people are seeing him and not Jack but that’s a thought that he’d brush off the moment it lingers at the surface of his mind.

However, while it was highly tempting to keep the mask up even by his lonesome, it always faded away the moment the camera stopped and left him far more drained than before he started recording.

Stop. Don’t think about that now.

Chase does not exist at this very moment.

Only Jack remained with that cheerful smile on his lips.

Finally, he allowed himself to fade into the background and push that persona forward to take his place.

In the next blink, Chase closed his eyes and Jack opened them.

0-0-0-0-0

The deep blue sky stretched over the horizon.

It was much too big. Much too hopeful.

It was too much for him who has been stuck in the darkness with no one but Him for company—

No.

No.

Do not think.

Not yet.

Later. Yes, later. In safety. In his family’s safety and warmth.

The door had been unlocked. Why? Why had it been unlocked?

Then he was running, stumbling about in the abyss like a drunk and suddenly there was light—

It had been too bright, too warm on his cold skin that it felt like it was burning his flesh off like the hot po—

No. Regroup. Stop.

Do. Not. Think. About. It.

He ran and ran and ran amongst the crowd, deaf to the rude words that had been tossed towards his way when he crashed into someone and jumped away as if he had been shocked, deaf to the concerned strangers’ questions before he shoved their wandering hands away.

Don’t touch him. Don’t fucking touch him!

It hurts. His eyes hurt. His ears hurt.

It’s so loud. He missed the blissfully subtle static that always kept him company in his cell—

Stop speaking… Stop speaking! Shut up… Shut up. Shutupshutupshutupshutupshutup—

The colors began to shift around him and they… became familiar? Familiar streets. Familiar names.

There was that sound from the annoying dog barking from a neighbor’s—

Ah.

This must be another one of his games.

The front garden was unkempt. Why was it unkempt? There were no flowers blooming from the bushes that looked as dry and thirsty as he normally felt. His little brother loved—loves his gardening hobby. He loves seeing the smiles of the passersby and his family when they see the colorful flowers he’d carefully tend to every week.

Yes, this was just further proof that this was all an illusion. He wanted to scream. He wanted to tell Him to stop this farce. However, he knows that he must continue the show lest He becomes angry for his disobedience once more.

He walked on. There. The front door was in front of him. Instinctively, he reached into his coat’s pocket (since when had he started wearing this coat?) and of course, of course, the key was there.

The door is opened and he is greeted by a cold, silent hou…

No.

Wait.

He looked up. There was a voice. It was faint but there it is.

Which show was he putting on this time? A replay of that fateful day? Or perhaps it was another one of those games where He makes him pretend that he was finally free?

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

He walked up the stairs.

One.

Two.

Three.

The fourth door.

The Recording Room.

What sort of cruel joke awaits him behind this door he wondered?

He was tired. So so tired… Perhaps if he pretended to be the brave, cool headed doctor that he had been He would grow bored of this show quick.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

The ice on the doorknob was a welcome sting to his constantly wandering, constantly moving mind. It keeps him still. Keeps him in the moment just like all of the pain—

Take all the shattered pieces of your bravery now, good doctor, and let it all out…

The door was flung open and the familiar—unfamiliar man in the room spun around in his chair and looked up at his heaving, shuddering body with a wide-eyed look. Yes, that face—that impossible face was the face of a comatose man as He often taunted him during their sessions— sat in front of him just told him that this was all just another one of His cruel mind games.

A flash of anger.

A dash of fear.

Then the ridiculous words streamed out of his lips as he pointed a shaking accusing finger angrily, fearfully at the shocked mirage before him.

“I-I am the good doctor,” he started, his voice growing louder to mask the racing, thundering heart attempting to rip itself out of his chest, “and that is my chair!”

“... Henrik?” At that trembling, fragile voice, the mirage shattered and suddenly his baby brother, the one who has always looked up to him like he knew all of the secrets held within this universe… the younger brother who had always, always undervalued his own existence… The baby brother that he so dearly loved was looking up at him, no traces of the impossible man were left behind. “Henrik, is that you?”

And for a second, he allowed his guard to drop, allowing the fragile piece of hope in his chest to wriggle up the surface of his beaten heart.

“Help me,” he begged. His voice was painfully raw and vulnerable as it clawed itself out of his throat.

Then as if he was just a puppet whose cruel puppeteer cut his strings out of nowhere just because he had grown bored of his broken toy, he crumpled forward, all remaining energy in his pathetically weak body dropping to a complete zero, and his legs toppled underneath him. He braced himself to meet the cold unforgiving floor of his cell while his warden cackled at his show of weakness…

But it never came.

Instead, someone caught his body and he was suddenly engulfed in that familiar softness and warmth as two arms gently but firmly wrapped themselves around his bony waist.

“I gotcha… I gotcha big bro. I gotcha,” Henrik closed his eyes and in a fit of broken exhaustion allowed himself to believe in this dream.

“Don’t let this be a dream,” he whimpered. “Don’t… Don’t let me wake up—”

“Shh… It’s not a dream. You’re home. You’ve come home. I promise,” he shuddered at that almost comforting voice and the hand that was stroking the back of his head tenderly. “I’ll still be here when you wake up. I promise.”

Chapped lips were brushed over his forehead and he slipped away into the familiar abyss.

Oh how the good doctor dearly wished that he could remain in this single moment of time rather than face the cruel reality of what was waiting for him the next time he opened his eyes.

[honekitteh]

Fic: Countdown - Chapter 9

Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Rating: M Genre: Angst, H/C, Romance, Canon-Typical Violence, Humor,  Canon-typical levels of poor decision-making Synopsis: A distress call leads the Jedi Battlemaster to Ziost, but time is running out.  Follows the storyline of The Rise of the Emperor and inserts missing scenes.   Author's Notes: Thank you to @storyknitter​ for giving this chapter a once over.  You have no idea how much that means to me! Warnings: See Chapter 1

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |  Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Crossposted to AO3

Across the din of Carrick Station, the pounding of my heart was the only sound I could focus on as I approached the cantina in the center of the promenade.  I took a deep breath and sank into its rhythm, matching my steps to each thump. My eyes flickered between each patron in the cantina, focusing every so often on an individual:  There was a blindfolded Miralukan at the bar, sipping on a light blue beverage, tilting his head ever so slightly towards the commotion behind him. A hulking Devaronian was talking loudly to a tiny greenish skinned Twi'lek, who shrank at each word as though struck by a heavy blow.  Another man, a brown-haired thin human in a brown nondescript vest, slid up next to the Miralukan, also taking note of the loud display.

It was far livelier than I had expected, but my knowledge of bar etiquette could leave a lot to be desired.  Though I’m sure Doc would kindly tell me that the station’s cantina is tame compared to other planets. But that is a pondering for another time.

Sure enough, my target was precisely where I’d expected him.  It felt like a lifetime ago when we just met briefly to discuss the business dealings of a... mutual friend who had been acting suspicious.  I fidgeted with my button-up shirt, trying to pull it down as it did not completely cover my stomach.  I was not normally self-conscious about it, given my typical attire, but this was different: the station had a chill to the air that I hadn’t accounted for.  After straightening the shirt and brown vest, I took a quick glance at myself in the reflection of a pillar nearby. The vest and shirt combo, along with the dual-wielding belt, made me more like a gunslinger than a Jedi.  Kira had been quite insistent that I should not look like a Jedi if I’m going on a date. Was this a date? I suppose it was. After all, I didn’t even have my weapons on me. I figured should an incident occur, I’ll just rely on my wits and the Force to come up with a solution.

It was a pity I always had to think in such a way.  I’m sure all contingencies had been taken into account.  I took a step in the aforementioned direction, keeping my senses open and my guard up.  As I slid into the seat across from Theron Shan, I raised an eyebrow and glanced over the slightly unbuttoned henley underneath his trademark red jacket.  “So…” I began, “About that rain check.”

His eyes didn’t leave my own as I settled into my seat, his brow furrowing only slightly before his gaze softened.  His left arm was relaxed propped up along the top of the booth he was slouched into. “I’ve got a bit of time,” he began after a moment, crossing his legs, “Borrowed time, so not a whole lot, but should be enough to share a drink.”

I returned his studying gaze, glancing to the shirt he was wearing and the hint of flesh beneath the buttons, then back up to his eyes.  “Is that a new shirt?”

He quirked an eyebrow.  “Yeah. You like it?”

“Is nice,” I said softly, my voice trailing off the rest of my thoughts as I inadvertently got lost in a lingering glance again towards the shirt’s opening.

He gave me a small wink and motioned towards the tiny Twi'lek over at the bar.  She quickly made her way towards us, away from the now-shouting Devaronian with a grateful expression.

“Ever tried Mandalorian kri’gee?” Theron asked.

I tilted my head, curious.  “No? A drink?”

He smirked. “Are you even a drinker?”

“I… partake… on occasion.”

He looked up at the Twi'lek, who was shaking her head towards me with her eyes wide.  He tapped his finger on his mouth. “This might not be the drink for a beginner.”

I looked between the two, frowning.  “I am not some delicate flower that needs protecting!”

His grin grew larger at my protest, then gave the Twi'lek waitress a wink holding up two fingers.  She nodded subserviently, though giving me a glance of what could only be described as concern. Her trip to the bar was uneventful as she obtained the drinks, the earlier rowdy Devaronian nowhere to be seen.  Neither the Miralukan nor the human were still at the bar either.  

Theron remained alert as we waited, eyes scanning the crowd.  The silence between us only served to amplify the heartbeat pounding in my ears and the server seemed to have run all the way to Mandalore to retrieve our order.  

Soon enough, however, she returned and set the bottle in front of us with two glasses.  She murmured the customary acknowledgment of our thanks in Huttese and asked us if there was anything else we needed to let her know.  I nodded to her and asked simply for a menu while Theron skillfully poured the Mandalorian kri’gee into two glasses and slid the small tumbler over to me.

He raised his glass and tilted his head.  “Anything to toast?” he asked.

I considered for a moment and raised my glass.  “To a rain check.”

He smiled at me for that and nodded.  “A rain check.” Then we both downed the glasses in one gulp.

I coughed and sputtered a few times as a fire raged through my senses.  I could feel Theron’s amusement at my suffering before I heard his laugh.

“Want another?” he asked within the midst of his laughter.

I slid along the rounded bench closer to him and punched him in the shoulder before he could react.  The leather of his jacket creaked at the amount of pressure and a small crease was left behind.

He straightened his coat a bit.  “Hitting on me already?” he laughed.

I hit him again, finding myself giggling just a bit.  “I’m tempted to say ‘Challenge Accepted’ but I sense that might be an unwise decision on an empty stomach.”

He was watching me with a smirk.  Whether he was amused by my comment or watching me to see how the alcohol was going to affect me, I could not tell.  After a moment of great consideration, he stated, “True. Very unwise. Very unbecoming for a lady of your station.”

“You’re the one that suggested… this… this...” I waved at the bottle, “Thing.  Are you trying to get me drunk, Theron Shan?”

“Me?” he asked, putting a hand on his chest in what could only be described as mock hurt, “I would never.  It is not my fault you decided to take my drink challenge on an empty stomach.”

The waitress slid a menu in front of me and I looked down at it for a brief second before Theron slid it away from me and pointed towards an item on the menu.  I frowned a bit and took the menu back as the waitress left and looked down at it.

“Dumplings. You have a fondness for them if I remember correctly,” he explained.  

I tilted my head at him.  “Street food festival on Coruscant.  Before you sent me in to almost drown on Manaan.  I remember.”

“Hey, you made it out…” he pouted slightly, sliding his hand over mine which was resting on top of the menu.

“Can’t say it was an altogether terrible experience.”

“Are your ears red from the drink?”  He was smirking at me.

While indeed, the kri’gee had completely gone straight to my head, it wasn’t like I was going to let him in on that.  Not willingly at least. “What?”

“You’re blushing from something and it’s gone to your ears.”  He moved his hand from where it had been on top of mine and brushed his fingers lightly along the outer edge of my right ear.

I shivered at the touch of his finger and bit my lip.  I looked over at him and studied him closely. Sure enough, his cheeks and ears had a slightly reddish tint to them as well.  “Excuse me? Look who’s talking.” I punched him in his shoulder. “Your face isn’t any better.”

He shrugged leaning back and resting both of his arms along the top of the booth seat.  “It’s obviously a side effect of the kri’gee. I’m not the one who’d never had it before.”

“I should throw something at you.”

“Violence also seems to be a side effect of the kri’gee in some people,” he said, rubbing his chin for a moment in thought.  

How had I not noticed that he’d grown out his typical 5 o’clock shadow into a quarter of an inch beard before?  I blame the henley. The way the light fabric and unbuttoned shirt laid on him was extremely distracting.  

His musing continued, “Maybe that’s why Mandalorians like it as part of their celebrations.  Definitely something to investigate.”

I pursed my lips at him, debating a retort.  Given that the one that popped in my mind was a stab at him being on administrative leave, I opted against it and decided to attempt a menacing glare.

“Are you okay?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Glaring at you menacingly.  Is it working?”

He tried to smother a grin, the corners of his lips twitching upward despite his effort, and said softly, “So cute.”

I pouted.  “Cute isn’t intimidating.”

He shook his head.  “No. No indeed it is not.”

The Twi'lek waitress returned and set down a very large plate of dumplings.  I felt a small rumble in my stomach as I realized exactly how hungry I was.

“Jyana,” Theron stated softly, “Are you already drunk?”

“No…” Then I hiccupped.  I felt my ears heating up again as I sighed.  “... Maybe.”

“After one drink huh…” he stated.  He took one of the dumplings from the platter and offered it to me.  “Have some food,” he smiled and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I won’t tell anyone.”

I gave him a dubious glance and reached to take the dumpling from him with his hand.  He pulled it back and shook his head. I furrowed my brow in frustration and confusion, then looked up at him, still holding it out for me.  Oh.  I then leaned in cautiously and allowed him to feed me the first dumpling.

He winked at me and grabbed one for himself.

“Which dumplings did you get?” I asked as I picked up a different one. “Or did you order a variety?”

“I told her to surprise us.”

I furrowed my brow.  “I did not notice you actually saying anything other than pointing at the menu?”

“There are many different languages, you know,” he said raising an eyebrow, “Some of which are not verbal.”

“Huh, so like thieves cant or something like that?  I think that’s what it was called.”

He nodded a bit.  “Something like that.  Not something they teach at the temple?”

“Oh, they offer it should some desire to learn,” I said, “My skills laid elsewhere.”

“You do excel at what you do,” he smiled and took his second dumpling.

I smiled a bit and scratched the back of my neck, before frowning a bit.  I felt a nudge lightly and then looked back over to him.

“None of that,” he whispered.  “And you’re red again. That is definitely a fascinating development.”

I sighed heavily and gave him a half-hearted punch to his shoulder.  “You stop that.”

He rubbed his shoulder lightly with a pout.  “Want another drink?”

I stared, dubious, at the bottle of kri’gee.  Before I answered though, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck raise lightly.  “Theron?”

“Hm?”

“Are we being watched?”

“Human?  Brown hair?  Brown vest? Fairly unremarkable otherwise?”

I pursed my lips at the description.  “Yes.”

“Dammit.”  Theron slid slightly away from me in the seat.

I raised my eyebrow at him.  

He fidgeted and bit his lip.  Something told me that he hadn’t accounted for this particular contingency.  He took a deep breath and stated quickly, “Act casual.”

I simply replied, “I don’t understand,” because I didn’t.

Before he could respond, the man in question had slid onto the edge of the bench next to Theron.  “Shan,” he drawled out, “When were you going to introduce me to your friend?”

“Balkar,” he growled.  

I raised an eyebrow between the both of them and reached for my empty glass and looked down at it, frowning.

“Jonas Balkar, SIS,” the newcomer continued, “An old friend of Agent Shan’s here.”

“An old annoyance is more like it.”

Jonas waved Theron’s comment off.  He then studied the bottle in front of us.  “Mandalorian kri’gee? Wow, Theron, that’s your idea for the first drink of the night?”

“And you have a better idea?”

Giving Theron a pointed look that clearly impled, “Of course I do, you idiot,” he shrugged and flagged the waitress down.  “Allow me,” he said, exchanging a few hand gestures upon her arrival. She nodded and went back to the bartender. He looked back at us.  “So: no introductions?”

Before I even opened my mouth to respond, Theron quickly stated, “What do you want, Balkar?”

“I was just in the area.  Saw you here. Thought I’d say hello.  Pity you won’t introduce me to the lady.”  He reached his hand towards me.

Theron put his hand on top of Jonas’ before the latter could take my hand with his.  This time, I interrupted Theron’s objections and scooted closer to both of them. “Jyana is fine.  Old friends, huh?”

Jonas’s smile broadened and he nodded.  “We go way back.”

Theron slumped into his seat and looked back across the cantina.  His eyes flickered between each currently visible patron. I followed his gaze and noticed that Kira had taken up residence at the bar next to a Mirialan lady in casual attire.

“I could tell you so many stories.”

“Oh?” I leaned in, definitely intrigued.  The waitress returned and put a large light green beverage in front of me.  The rim of the glass was lined with brightly-colored rainbow salt and there was a holographic umbrella in it.  I studied the drink before slowing reaching for it.

Theron halted my attempt.  “Give me a moment,” he muttered.

“What, you don’t trust me?” Jonas laughed.

I looked between the two, curiously.  Theron sighed and let me take it. I slowly sipped the drink, finding it surprisingly fruity.  

“With everything I do for you, Shan, a little trust sometime would be nice.”

“Like the last time you got me captured and my implants almost stolen?”

“That was just that one time.  And I’d given you plenty of reports so you would have been aware had you just read them.”

“Right,” he sighed and looked over at me.  The waitress set down a pair of tumblers filled with an amber liquid on ice in front of the two agents.  

“I feel like there’s a story here,” I stated after taking another sip of the fruity monstrosity.

“Oh there definitely is, but sadly a great deal of that is classified,” Jonas said.

I raised an eyebrow, but opted to leave out the part that there was a great possibility that my clearance level in some respects exceeded his own.  But I was not entirely sure how much the term Battlemaster weighed within the SIS, nor was I inclined to find out. Theron seemed to want to keep who I was secret, and if I was completely honest, I wanted to be discreet as well.

“I could tell you a great story that involves a goat,” he continued.

Theron quickly cut him off, “And we’re done here.”

“A goat?” I asked.

“Excuse me?” a familiar voice cut through the conversation.  I looked up to find Kira and the Mirialan woman from the bar standing in front of the table.  Theron tilted his head at the intrusion and then a smirk crossed his lips.

“Hello ladies,” Jonas replied, “Having a fine evening?”

“Well, you see, this lovely lady beside me here has been waiting for some,” Kira paused a bit and looked at her companion, “Jonas Balkar was it?”

“Yes, Jonas,” the green-skinned lady nodded.

“Yes. She’s been waiting for quite some time. Perhaps you all could help us find him?”

“He’s right here,” Theron spoke up, nudging the Agent beside him.

“Oh? Well how lucky are we then,” Kira grinned. “Pity though.  I told her that if he didn’t show up, I’d happily spend some time with her.”

The Mirialan grinned, “Kira does seem to be far more entertaining company.”

“I would definitely not neglect you by bothering other patrons of the cantina.”

“Now ladies,” Jonas interrupted and got up out of the booth, taking his glass with him, “I’m sure I can come to some more fascinating arrangement.”  He started to lead them both away from Theron and me.

Kira peeked back over her shoulder and winked.

“Huh, he was supposed to be meeting someone himself,” Theron mused to himself.

I raised an eyebrow over at him.  “Are you filing this away for later?”

“Absolutely.”

I shook my head with a laugh.  “I suppose I’m not supposed to ask you about the goat?”

Theron’s expression of mirth melted into one of dread.  “Please don’t.”

“Aw,” I pouted slightly, “It sounds funny.”

He grumbled and took a long sip of his own beverage.

“Fine.  I won’t.”  I elbowed him in his arm.  “Lighten up. The night is still yet young.”

He nudged me back and then smirked.  “More dumplings then?”

“Yes.”  I nodded, taking one of the still warm dumplings from the platter and offering it to him. “Very much yes.”

[theolddarkmachine]

Imaginary - Chapter Eleven

Midoriya Izuku’s life was turned upside by fate.

Eri’s life was turned upside down by circumstance.

And Bakugou Katsuki is about to learn that even imaginary friends need to grow up.

Also on AO3

A/N: Lord, let me tell you, it was like my boss lady and he husband both knew when I was trying to work on this, cuz damn near every time I opened the word doc they came up with some new task for me to do lol Here’s to still getting this bad boy knocked out!

********************************

The shiny silver gleam of the elevator doors seems to taunt Katsuki as he stares at it, anticipating the sound of its arrival as he waits, steaming cup of green tea in hand. Even by his own standards it’s pretty damn early, leaving him wanting for just a bit more time to enjoy his tea alone, but the Administrator had requested he come in first thing in the morning.

Which couldn’t mean too much good.

Toshinori never was much of a morning person.

Sipping some of his tea, Katsuki enjoys the slightly too hot burn of the liquid in his throat as it pushes back the last dredges of sleep down deep into his chest. It lands beside the soft and tempered memory of Midoriya’s eyes as they’d shone a bright, brilliant emerald beneath the sun, looking toward him with wonder and appreciation.

They’d been the crowning jewel of his dreams the previous night after he’d finally made it back home from their outing. It would probably piss him off if he took the time to think about it, but the elevator dings, pulling him back roughly to the hallway and away from the gemstone gaze.

Stepping through the metallic doors after they slide open, Katsuki settles his back against the cool steel of the lift. Pulling another long sip from his cup, he watches as the door begin to close slowly before their stopped by a hand being thrust between them.

The hand pushes gently at the door and the space between them widens, revealing Kirishima and his all too bright smile. Katsuki grumbles low as he scoots to the side to accommodate for the second body in the elevator.

“Hey, Bakubro!” Kirishima boasts, eyes crinkling at the sides as his smile grows impossibly wider around his sharpened teeth. “It feels like it’s been forever! How have you been?”

Looking over his shoulder, the redhead punches a button before turning his attention back to Katsuki. The door quietly close behind him, leaving Kirishima outlined by shiny silver as he awaits his reply.

“Been busy,” Katsuki gruffs, eyes burning as he watches the numbers Ono the floor counter rise painfully slow.

“Yeah, me too man,” Kirishima chuckles, finally moving forward to settle into the space beside him. Placing his hands against the metal railing that wraps around the car, he folks his fingers around it, gripping tightly as he leans back into it as he lets his head fall back against the wall with a soft thud.

They both stand there in silence fo a moment before the redhead turns his head slightly, his grin sharp and troublesome as he eyes his companion. Ignoring the weight of it, Katsuki takes another long drag from his paper travel mug, emptying it of its contents.

“You must really like your current assignment though,” Kirishima says with a wicked tone darkening his words. Almost dropping his cup, Katsuki chokes on the last dregs of his green tea.

“What the fuck makes you say that, asshole,” he coughs, glaring at Kirishima as he laughs loudly and smacks at his back with an open palm.

“Ah, it’s nothing really, man,” he replies, voice tilting up like his smile as he pulls his hand away and shrugs. Katsuki would believe his words more if he hadn’t just made a very blatant attempt on his life.

And here he had thought Kirishima was a friend.

Dick.

“You’ve just seemed a lot happier than I’ve ever seen you is all,” Kirishima continues, gaze going soft in the wake of Katsuki’s hard stare. Dopey grin still spread wide across his face, he shrugs once more as the elevator car shudders to a stop.

“Well, this one’s me,” he says, pushing away from the wall and crossing the short expanse of the lift. Stepping out into the hall, Kirishima turns back to wave as the doors close.

In return, Katsuki gives him the finger.

“Fucking, Stupid Hair,” he hisses as the elevator continues its ascent. Crushing his fingers around his emptied cup, the paper gives to the pressure with a soft crumpling sound as he groans and drops his head back to stare at the ceiling.

“What does he know anyway,” Katsuki says up to the bright fluorescent light before the elevator fills with its soft mechanical hum.

The last few seconds of the ride is filled with a damning quiet before it shudders to a stop once more, this time at the top floor.

Stepping through the threshold, he locks eyes with the receptionist, who doesn’t even bother asking if he has an appointment before waving him towards the Administrator’s door.

Without knocking, he pushes the door open, eyes immediately finding Toshinori in the quiet space. The older man sits there silent as he stares into the distance, mug stalled just before his mouth.

If Katsuki was being honest, he looked like he had been hit by a fucking truck.

“Hey old man,” Katsuki bites out, kicking the door closed behind him and dropping his disposable cup into the trash beside it. He watches as Toshinori startles, putting down his own mug and eyeing him as Katsuki drops down into the bean bag before his desk.

The dark circles beneath his eyes seem a bit darker, highlighting the hollowness of his expression before it flickers to something warm as he smiles.

“Good morning, young Bakugou!” He cheers loudly, dipping his chin in quick greeting as Katsuki rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, cut the crap, what do you want?” Katsuki growls, sinking so low into the bean bag that his knees jut out and his spine curls into a tight c.

“I can’t want to check-in with you?” The Administrator asks, eyeing him closely, a single blonde eyebrow creeping up towards his hairline in silent question and challenge.

“With anyone else? Sure. Me?” Katsuki says, leaving the rest unsaid as he returns the look. Crossing his arms across his chest, he waits, watching as Toshinori’s expression eases into a look of tired resignation.

“You’ve always been far too perceptive, young Bakugou,” he relents before taking a sip from his mug. The quiet thickens in the air, clinging to him like a second skin as Katsuki traces his gaze over the bright smiley face on the mug’s surface.

“So, what is it?” He finally prompts after the Administrator resurfaces. Setting his coffee down with the gentle tap of porcelain on wood, he turns his gaze back to Katsuki.

“How is your assignment going?” He asks with a forced casualness. It’s just a question, one that he’d ask for any case, but something about it now makes unease zing through Katsuki like a spark of lightning. Toshinori’s bright blue eyes seem to cut straight through him as he fixes his own gaze just over the older man’s shoulder, finding a grounding solace in the off white paint of the office wall.

“It’s going fine,” Katsuki says, voice damning in its earnestness. A muscle twitches in his jaw as he grinds his molars against the taste of his sincerity before trying to rectify it with a dry laugh.

“Who do you think I am, some extra? Of course it’s going great.”

Humming low, Toshinori nods as he steeples his fingers, resting his chin against them as he leans forward into his desk.

“Would you say Eri is progressing well?” He asks, ignoring his quip. Unable to help the proud smile that stretches wide across his features, Katsuki gives a quick nod as he sits up straighter in the bean bag chair.

“Hell yeah, that little shit is probably one of the best kids I’ve had,” he exclaims, chest puffing out just slightly. A light sparks in the depths of the Administrator’s eyes as Katsuki speaks, his chin dipping slightly with a small nod as his smile softens.

“Is she happy?” Toshinori asks quietly.

“Of course she’s fucking happy,” Katsuki scoffs, glaring at the older man. “I wouldn’t be doing my job if she wasn’t.”

Toshinori’s booming laugh shakes the room, causing him to jump slightly at the sudden sound of it.

“You seem to be happy too,” he says simply, answering the unspoken question in Katsuki’s stare, and it causes him pause. The administrator’s words echo that of Kirishima’s not even 15 minutes ago, and he isn’t quite sure how to wrap his mind around the fact that they were right.

He was happy in a different way than he’d ever been, and if he was being honest, he didn’t know what to do with that.

Didn’t even know who he had to thank for that.

A small voice at the back of his mind quips that he might have some idea of who might be the culprit.

Crossing his arms across his chest, Katsuki’s vision narrows as he imagines burning a hole at the center of Toshinori’s forehead with his stare.

“Yeah, I guess. It’s nice to have such an easy case, what’s it to you?” He says slowly, ignoring the collection of sweat at the nape of his neck. The early morning meeting suddenly feels like a sentencing as his mind wanders to Eri, and to Izuku.

He had had his suspicions that administrators knew everything, and could see everything, but he’d never gotten the chance to confirm that. Now, sitting there pinned beneath Toshinori’s stare, Katsuki isn’t sure he wants it confirmed.

Friendship terminated.

Silence bleeds into the cracks and spaces of the office as they hold each others gazes. Moments pass in silent standoff before the Administrator looks away first, gently shaking his head before ducking behind the lip of his mug for another sip.

“It’s just nice to see you loosening up, young Bakugou,” he says, tone full of meaning as he resurfaces from behind his cup.  

“Yeah, yeah,” Katsuki brushes off, cutting his gaze down to his knees. “Is that all?”

“You tell me,” Toshinori replies. “Is there anything else I should know about this case?”

It draws lines of goosebumps across his skin as he bites at the full of his lip, swallowing down the sudden burn at the back of his throat before shaking his head.

“No, that’s it,” Katsuki says lowly. “The kid is doing great, as they always do thanks to my amazing work.”

Another loud laugh echoes through the room as he looks up to the older man in time to catch his kind smile. Rolling his eyes, Katsuki tsks softly before pushing himself out of his seat.

“Then that’s all I need to know. You’re doing well, young Bakugou,” Toshinori says warmly, gaze set on him with silent amusement as if he knows he’s ready to bolt. “It shouldn’t be too much longer that you’ll need to be with her.”

The statement goes through him like a lance, cutting through muscle and bone before catching deep in his lungs and stealing his breath. With his eyes wide, his mind flits from Eri’s bright eyes to Midoriya’s small smile before landing back heavily in the office with Toshinori and his expectant stare.

No, he wants to say. I need more time.

Instead, Katsuki nods curtly before turning on his heel and walking slowly toward the door.

“Next time pick a later time,” he growls as he pushes the oak door open. “You’re shit with mornings.”

The Administrator’s laugh follows him into the hallway, but any retort Katsuki might have is cut off as the door clicks shut.

***

A sense of deja vu twists around Katsuki as he finds himself glaring at door. Carving shapes into the boring white paint with his gaze, his fingers curl into a fist but it stays stubbornly at his side.

He doesn’t know why he’s here, if he’s being honest. He’s Bakugou fucking Katsuki. He doesn’t need anyone to help him untwist the tangled heap of confused emotions settled low in his gut, put there by the Administrator’s words.

This was all part of the job, after all. Katsuki was meant to show up where he was needed, to help while he was needed, and then to leave once he wasn’t.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

That much has never bothered him. Why would it?

But now, the thought of leaving Eri has left shrapnel bits of dread running through his blood.

Swallowing down an annoyed sound, Katsuki clenches his fist tighter, focusing on the bite of his nails at the meat of his palm as he wills it to move. Instead, it stays frozen at his side.

After several moments of crushing immobility, he takes it as a sign. Growling in defeat, Katsuki turns over his shoulder to head back toward the elevator. He doesn’t even make it two whole steps before he hears the lock of the door click, and then open.

“If you leave now, I’ll spend the rest of the day wondering what you wanted,” Todoroki’s voice is dry with the barest touch of humor. It causes Katsuki to freeze, mechanically turning his head to look to where the other man stands in his doorway. Tucked into an oversized cardigan and a pair of faded jeans, Todoroki is a picture of comfort as he watches Katsuki, waiting to see what he’d decide to do.

Honestly, it pisses him off.

“Like hell you’d give that much of a fuck,” Katsuki snarls, glare tightening as he sees the smallest beginning of a curl at the edges of Todoroki’s mouth.

“You’re right, but I’m sure no matter what I’ll end up dealing with your bad attitude, so might as well get it over with,” he replies with a small shrug before stepping to the side and ushering him forward. Flicking his gaze to the entryway of the apartment, Katsuki feels the unmistakable tug of curiosity deep in his gut.

“Well?” Todoroki prods, arching a brow.

“Fine,” he growls, pushing by Todoroki as he stomps loudly into the apartment. Turning his back to the man as he carefully shuts the door, Katsuki kicks his shoes off at the shoe rack before making his way further into the home.

He’d only ever been to Todoroki’s a handful of times, but it still looks the same as ever. Tidy and sparse, with a worn leather couch, matching armchair and coffee table, it feels less like a home and more like a stopping spot.

“Can I get you anything to drink? You’ve been out there so long, you must be parched,” Todoroki asks as he passes behind him, sliding into the kitchen just off the entryway.

“Hah hah, funny, IcyHot,” Katsuki says low, moving into the living room and looking over the counter that stands between the two rooms. “If you knew I was out there so long, why didn’t you open the goddamn door?”

Todoroki shrugs again before opening the fridge and grabbing a pitcher.

“Wanted to see if you’d swallow down your pride and finally knock,” he says smoothly, shutting the door with his hip and moving toward the counter. After grabbing two glasses from his drying rack, he flicks his mismatched gaze to Katsuki as his mouth stretches into an all knowing grin.

“Surprise, surprise, you didn’t.”

The sound of water filling glass fills the room as Katsuki moves to the couch, dropping down into it with a soft, squishing thud.

“Fuck you,” he says without heat as Todoroki appears at the side of the couch, putting down one of the cups on the table before him before sitting in the armchair. His gaze never leaves him as he takes a sip from his own water.

Ignoring his look, Katsuki keeps his attention focused on the plain wall ahead of him, all to aware of the weight of his hands where they sit on his thighs. Somewhere, a clock ticks loudly, counting the seconds of silence for an undetermined amount of time.

“So,” Todoroki finally says, breaking the silence, “not that I dislike the company, but I can’t help but feel you aren’t here to pretend like we’re friends.”

Sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, Katsuki chews at it, letting the seconds tick further by before letting out a long, growling sigh.

“What would you do?” He asks, hoping Todoroki understands what he’s asking, if only because he isn’t sure he can force himself to elaborate. It had already taken all he had to make it this far. Hesitating for a moment, Todoroki cocks his head to the side and studies him. Staying like this for a handful of breaths, a look of realization finally eases across his face.

“Is this about that other person seeing you?” He asks, curiosity bright in his voice. It grates at Katsuki’s nerves as he gives a sharp nod as his foot starts to jackrabbit impatiently. A thoughtful sound escapes Todoroki as he leans forward slightly.

“Have they seen you since?” He pushes, interest thick and evident as his eyes spark with intrigue.

“Yeah,” Katsuki huffs, looking down to the coffee table and his untouched water before adding, “a lot.”

With his attention turned away, he misses the way Todoroki’s brow arches high.

“So, there’s no way to avoid them,” it’s a statement, not a question.

“If there fucking was, do you think I’d even be in this situation?” He bites out, heated stare cutting back to Todoroki in time to see him hold up his palms in show of acquiescence.

“Have you talked to the Administrator yet?” Todoroki asks then, echoing his question from that night as he intertwines his fingers and braces his forearms on his knees. Blanching at the question, Katsuki shakes his head.

“Fuck no.”

Another thoughtful hum fills the space.

“So you like them.”

It’s another statement, one that makes Katsuki’s blood burn, the epicenter of it right over his heart.

“The hell did you say?” He snarls, trying his best to swallow down the scorching ache as he jerks halfway out of his seat. Hands fisted and teeth clenched, he glares down at Todoroki waiting for the excuse to fight.

“If you didn’t, you would have told the Administrator,” Todoroki says, matter-of-fact. And dammit all if he wasn’t right. Katsuki knows that, no matter how much he wishes he didn’t. Sigh heavy with the weight of defeat, he falls back down into his seat as his companion continues.

“Maybe you wouldn’t have told him first, but you would have told him after your curiosity was sated. So, you must like them.”

Fucking Peppermint Head.

“Yeah, well even if that’s the case, fat lot of fucking help that will do me as his kid’s imaginary friend,” Katsuki growls lowly, running a hand over his eyes. As his fingers press into his eyelids, a flash of green sparks across the darkness, making him growl again.

The quiet settles over the living room again as they both fall into the silence of their separate thoughts. Todoroki is the first to break it again, speaking slowly, carefully.

“If he can see you, that must mean he needs you.”

He says it with a small lift of his shoulders, as if the simple statement hasn’t just upended Katsuki’s thoughts. Distantly, he hears the echo of Eri’s own words the other day, when her words had amounted to something very similar. The burn explodes, racing out across his chest and through his veins as the two voices twine together.

“Imaginary friends are meant to help those who have forgotten how to smile,” Todoroki quotes, eyes gleaming. Katsuki hears his teeth audibly click as his mouth snaps shut.

Another lengthy pause wraps itself around him as he stares down at his hands, tracing the length of a scar that runs across his knuckles. Reveling in the way fire licks along his ribs, his mind gets caught on the brambles of Midoriya Izuku. He had been a fool to ignore the amount of space the other man had preoccupied, and with those words twisting and turning between the spaces that he didn’t, Katsuki found himself wondering if maybe, Midoriya wasn’t the only one that needed someone.

Tearing his attention away from his hands, he looks to Todoroki to see the curious glint still captured in his stare as he watches him.

“Well thank fuck you know the friend motto,” Katsuki finally says, grabbing for his water and throwing the whole thing back. Without waiting for a reply, he slams the glass back down onto the table’s surface before standing.

Making his way to the front door, he doesn’t bother to check if Todoroki is following him, instead focusing on tugging on his shoes. After making sure they were secure on his feet, Katsuki pulls the door open before stopping.

Coolness eases across his palm as he stands there at the door, hand on the knob as he counts three breaths before turning a look over his shoulder. Leaning against the entryway wall, Todoroki has his arms crossed over his chest as he watches him.

“Thanks,” Katsuki growls begrudgingly, only waiting long enough to catch Todoroki’s acknowledging nod before stepping over the threshold and slamming the door shut behind him.

Shoving his hands deep in his pockets, Katsuki frowns down to the ground as he watches his feet step one in front of the other in the direction of his own apartment. All the way, his thoughts spin precariously around what Todoroki had said.

If he can see you, that must mean he needs you.

**********************

[therainroguefanfiction]

🔥 ℝise Ⱥbove I̾t ◈ Chapter 028 [Ten Million Madness]

📑 Table of Contents | ◂Backward

Author’s Note: Okay, so I feel to the need to say something because I’m kinda disappointed. So, I write out each chapter on paper because I write best that way, and then I can type it out on the computer to basically re-write/edit it to add more details to the basic premise for each chapter. Well, I ran out of paper in the original book, so I got another one. The problem is that this new book was from the dollar store, so it’s a bit smaller and the margins aren’t as big on either side of the page.

Three pages, front and back, in the old book averaged out to about 2.5k words or better. However, the same amount in this new book has just barely been scraping 2k. I feel bad, but it’ll be worse if I go mixing up the chapters to make them longer. I’ll continue to try more pages until I can get back to that 2.5k average. Not sure if anyone noticed or cares, but it’s really bugging me so I felt the need to say something lol (> ツ)>/*

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Word Count: 2,078

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〈“Right now, I’m giving it all my all. Looking for the hidden truth, wake me up, open my eyes. Even the soul inside of me, I’ll burn it up without anything remaining.” B.A.P, “Wake Me Up”〉

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I stood off to the side, watching as the other students scrambled around trying to form teams and think of strategies. Several students from class A were surrounding Bakugo, trying to convince him to choose them for his team. I had considered asking to join him, too, but his attitude from after the race seriously put me off.

“Wait, remind me what your quirks are again.” He said, his face blank as he was overwhelmed by them. “And your names.”

I scoffed, covering my mouth. I mean, same, though. I should really start a list of the people I still need to learn the names of. I felt a tug on the leg of my pants, followed by the hair on the back of my neck standing on end.

“Jen, be my partner,” Mineta demanded, his eyes wide as he looked up at me. “I can be the rider and you’ll be the horse. Just imagining those pump boobs between my fingers gets me -”

“Who said you could say my name you prick?!” My eye twitched in anger as I brought my foot back, slamming it into his face and punting him across the field. He landed behind Octo, who he referred to as Shoji, and started whining about how all of the girls had refused to partner with him. I wonder fucking why.

What a fucking freak.

I glanced at Izuku. No one was even looking in his general direction, poor guy. I did say that I would look out for him and protect him… but this is just the sports festival and everyone is gonna be gunning for him. That’s a shit-ton of extra effort for whoever plays the horse. Still… I sighed deeply and started in his direction, pausing when slim fingers gently wrapped around my wrist, almost hesitantly. It was French Fry. Wait, why is he shaking like that? He’s clutching his stomach… must’ve overused his quirk in the last round.

“What’s up?” I asked, turning toward him.

He forced a smile despite the pained expression on his face. “I was hoping… you would like to be my partner.”

I glanced back at Izuku. Ochaco was chatting happily with him and another girl was quickly approaching them. Who knew he was so popular with the ladies? I turned back to the blonde, whose smile had lessened. “What’s your name again?”

“Yuga Aoyama, mademoiselle.”

“Aoyama,” I tested the name on my tongue before smiling at him. “Sure, why not. Let’s be partners.”

His face brightened, blonde locks swaying as he tilted his head. “Thank you!”

I nodded. “I’ll be the horse and I’ll carry you on my back. You focus on grabbing headbands and I’ll do my best to keep people at bay with my fire, okay?”

“Are we going after Midoriya?”

“Nah, that’s way too much trouble.” I scratched my cheek, glancing at the greenette. Both team Todoroki and team Bakugo were glaring at team Midoriya. “Everyone sees the big number, but not the big picture. A lot of teams are gonna be goin’ after him, but the smart teams will use the chaos as a smokescreen to stack up smaller numbers. We’ll be one of those teams.”

He straightened his back, arm loosely clutching his stomach. “I’ll do my best, mademoiselle!”

I grinned, wagging my finger. “My motto has always been to work smart, not hard.”

“I also have an idea, if you’re interested? I promise it’s magnifique.”

I raised a brow curiously, crossing my arms. “Alright, I’m listening. Let’s hear it.”

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“Oh, goody, it’s time to get this party started!” Midnight announced, happily.

“Hey, hey, look alive! After fifteen minutes to pick teammates and talk strategy, thirteen cavalry teams are prepared to go head to head!”

“I see some unexpected student combinations,” Aizawa commented.

“Come on, everyone put your hands in the air! It’s time for an arena-bumping U.A. battle royale! Let me hear you scream~!”

I gripped Aoyama’s thighs when he hopped onto my back. “Wrap your legs around my waist, I’m gonna need at least one of my hands free for defense and I don’t want you to fall.”

“Right!” He shifted his weight, crossing his ankles across my stomach. His right arm was tight around my neck, the other resting on my shoulder so it would be free to grab headbands. With my two-hundred and five points and his five, we only came out to a total of two-hundred-ten points, but that’s fine. That number will be much higher when all of this is said and done.

“Let’s get this party started! One final countdown before the game starts! Three… Two… One…”

“Begin!!” Midnight shouted.

I sweatdropped as most of the teams made a beeline straight for Izuku’s team. “Idiots,” His group started to sink into the ground and he pressed a button in his hand, launching his team into the sky. Oi oi, is that shit even allowed? Ah, but Shadow is working so hard to defend, how fucking adorable! Shit, no, stay focused, dumbass. “Let’s set this place on fire, Aoyama!”

He nodded as his arm tightened, his fist clenching around my shirt.

While Invisigirl’s team was focused on Izuku in the sky, I rushed behind them and Aoyama reached out for her band, only to have it snatched by a blonde kid I had never seen before. I huffed, chasing after them. “Get ready to grab, and hold on tight!”

I lifted my left hand, increasing the temperature of my skin. I don’t want to set this kid on fire, I just gotta burn him enough where he releases his grip on the band. Shouldn’t be too difficult considering the fucker is carelessly swinging it around his finger without a care in the world. I focused on the spot behind his team – please oh great and powerful taco god, let this work! Aoyama squeaked in surprise as I teleported, clutching onto me for dear life. Pain shot through my skull but I did my best to ignore it, grabbing the boy’s wrist with my hand. He hissed in pain, the band falling from his fingers.

Aoyama snatched it and I jumped back just as the boy reached out for my face, his hand flaming. Huh, does he have a fire quirk, too? It seems to be hurting him, if that pained face is anything to go by. He held his hand out, fire shooting toward us. I can probably withstand it, those flames are pretty tame, but Aoyama can’t and my job is to protect him at all costs. I swept my hand across the air in front of me, a wall of flame sprouting up between us and clashing with the fire he had thrown at us. I used this opportunity to put distance between us – I’d rather not get caught up in a drawn-out battle over one fucking band, it wasn’t worth it.

Plus, you know, effort. I swear after this stupid sports festival is over, Imma fucking sleep for three months. I’m gonna turn into a fucking bear and hibernate.

Aoyama tied the band around his neck, breathing out. “We’re up to six-hundred, mademoiselle.”

I nodded, “Good job.”

“Wow! Barely two minutes have passed since we started and it’s already a total free for all! Yeah! Watch those headbands! You can even ignore the ten million points and go after the other chart-toppers!”

“Goddamn it, Mic,” I growled out, glaring at the commentator’s box. “Keep your fuckin’ ideas to yourself, you damned cockatiel!”

Izuku took off to the sky again and Bakugo jumped off of his horses, using his explosions to propel him toward them. Dark Shadow blocked him, of course.

“Woaaah! Bakugo has been separated from his horses! Is that even allowed?!”

He started to fall, only to have tape wrap around his waist and pull him back down to his horses, one of which was Flex Tape himself.

“He never touched the ground so technically it’s okay!” Midnight gave a thumbs up.

Seriously, what the fuck even is this game? Sheesh, these guys ain’t messin’ around, they’re actin’ like their lives depend on it. I don’t get paid enough for this shit.

Oh wait, I’m not getting paid at all. What a buzzkill.

“Behind us!”

I jumped to the side just as a green hand swiped by my face. “Rin?”

He grinned, sitting atop a large, hairy guy that ran on all fours. “I told you to call me Hiryuu!” His horse jerked forward and Hiryuu made a grab for the band around Aoyama’s neck. I slapped his hand away and he tried with the other.

“Sorry, Ryuu.” My fingers wrapped around his wrist and I tugged him forward. “Aoyama!”

His chest pressed against the back of my head as he leaned forward. Just as his fingers grazed the band, I noticed something transparent shooting toward us. The air solidified, forming a chain with a hook on the end. Within seconds, the headband was snatched from Ryuu’s head.

I snapped my head to the side, eyes narrowed. It’s that black-haired boy that was with Doc Brown’s love child. He’s one of the horses for that loudmouthed silverette from class B. “Damn it,” I jumped back as Ryuu tried again to grab the band. “Sorry, bro, gotta jet!” I focused on the opposite side of the field – there’s far too many teams in this one area and I need breathing room. With just two of us, it’ll be bad to get surrounded.

I teleported, sweat rolling down my cheek as my head throbbed painfully, making me clench my teeth.

“Are you okay?” Aoyama asked worriedly. “You’re shaking.”

I huffed, leaning over. “I think I… just discovered the… limit of my teleportation… awesome…” Shit, I don’t think I’ll be able to use it anymore, at least not until I recover a shit-ton of stamina.

“Now, who wants to take a look at each team’s place so far?! It’s been seven minutes so let’s get those rankings started on the screen! Hold on here… this is an unexpected turn! Other than Midoriya and Winchester, class 1-A’s not doing so hot! Even Bakugo is losing!”

“What?” My eyes snapped to the screen. “No way… He’s at zero?” A sudden angry aura grabbed my attention and I looked across the field – of course, it was coming from Bakugo. It was directed at that blonde guy with the fire quirk. Bakugo, you better not leave me up here alone, bro. Get those damn points back, you bastard.

“And now, we’ve reached the halfway point of the game! As the cavalry battle enters the second half, it’s anyone’s game! Class 1-B has made an unexpected showing, but who will wear the ten million points in the end?! That’s the real question, sports fans!”

The throbbing in my head started to dull a bit and I squeezed his thighs. “Aoyama, we’re going for the group that stole Ryuu’s headband. That’s one-hundred-twenty-five points, and if we can grab that silver-haired bitch’s seven-hundred-five, we’ll be at fourteen-thirty-five. That’ll put us in second place for now. Let’s see if that plan of yours actually works out for us.”

He swallowed hard. “L-Let’s do it! Apres la pluie le beau temps!”

“No idea what the fuck you just said but let’s hope it’s something helpful. Alright!” I grinned, bending my knees. With fire under my boots, I propelled myself forward, rushing straight toward the unsuspecting silverette and his team.

“Tetsu!” The ravenette noticed us, but not fast enough.

My hand turned red as it shot toward the rider. His arm shot up, blocking the blow as his skin turned to metal. “Well, shit…”

He grinned, showing off sharp teeth like Kiri’s. “Hey, that tickles!”

I matched his grin. “If that body of yours can turn to steel, then that means I don’t have to hold back, right?” My hand erupted in flame and I pushed against him. The flames spread across his metallic skin, sweat appearing on his face from the intense heat. Aoyama’s hand shot forward, fingers clutching the band around the silverette’s neck.

I felt the air around us changing, a chain shooting out from the ravenette. Shit! I slipped my hand up, burning the side of the band around his forehead and it fell into Aoyama’s hand just as large transparent hand shoved us away.

“Our band! He got it!” Aoyama cried.

I cursed as the transparent chain returned to its owner, Aoyama’s band landing in his hand. “Goddamn it.”

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