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redhairedfeistynerd · 4 years ago

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Slush and a Side of Toys

Part 2

A/N: Winter/Holiday Festival Challenge. I chose #38 donating toys to children.

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Warnings: 18+ Angst, frustrated reader, swearing, alcohol

Words:3500+

Part 1 here

Please like, comment and reblog. I appreciate it and thanks for reading.

All mistakes are my own

A reminder - my work is not to be re-posted anywhere.

Snow.

Of all the days to make the largest and final delivery, the sky had to open and drop copious amount of fluffy, white snow throughout the morning, which dramatically turned to rain in the afternoon. The streets were bound to be a disaster and you didn’t have time for this mess.

Trying to slide another box into your SUV was like playing a game of Tetris and one that you were about to lose. With a push, the last piece fit in, but as one went in, another slid out. From the top of the pile, a large box (in painful slow motion) popped out of its comfy home and dropped to the ground, a large splash soaking your left side with cold, slushy water. All the carefully wrapped toys, were now submerged in the grey slush water at your feet.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you cried out to the sky and pulled your toque over your eyes. Lifting the wool from your eyes, you stared at the colossal mess at your feet, and tried to swallow down the lump that was quickly forming in your throat. Blinking fast, attempting to avoid that tears that were threatening to pour out of your eyes. What a mess.

“Y/N?” A male voice came from behind you, the sound of slushy footsteps quickly approaching.

Oh no. OH NO.

Not that voice.

Squatting down once more to try and quickly pick up some of the packages, you stop when two large feet stand in the water beside you, splashing dirty droplets of water in your face.

“Thanks, asshole,” you muttered.

“Is that any way to greet an old friend?” Chris chuckled from above you and offered his hand.

“Get the fuck away from me, Evans,” you shouted, slipping while trying to stand up. You made another attempt to stand and turned to face him, a look of disgust clearly showing across your face.

“Damn. What exactly did I do to you again?”

“The fact that you are asking, pisses me off even more,” you shot back as you turned around and bent down, wrapping your arms around several sopping packages.

“Gifts for your boyfriend?” He asked, his tone emitting a slice of jealousy.

“These gifts are for the kids, you oaf,” you snapped back.

Chris didn’t have a response but leaned down to pick up a box floating near his feet “Here, don’t forget this one. I’m...I’m sorry for the snarky comment,” he said biting at his lip, embarrassment running through him. “I didn’t mean to talk to you like that,” he added holding out the small, mushy box to you. “Are these going to the women’s centre? I can help you get them there if you like.”

You stared back at him, trying not to bit your lip so hard in frustration. “I don’t need your help. Please, stay away from me, Chris,” you said grabbing the wet box from his hand. “They’re going to the Neighbourhood House.”

“At least let me get the car door for you, the trunk looks a bit full,” Chris said as he opened the back door.

Tossing the wet gifts into the back, not caring about the upholstery, you muttered a “thanks” Chris’s way before slamming the door and walking around to the driver's side, stopping to close the trunk on your way. Hopping in, you made the mistake of looking in your rearview mirror as you started up the car, Chris’s smirking face looking right at you. “Stupid good-looking asshole,” you snarled as you drove away from him, trying to ignore the small wave he gave as you drove down the street. Heading back to your office, hoping that your coworker was still there with the other pile of gifts that were ready to go out today to a few local schools.

The office was quiet, no papers shuffling, no phones ringing. You knew you had missed your chance to switch out some of the gifts before heading over to the Neighbourhood House that evening. This day was not going the way you had planned and if you couldn’t deliver the gifts promised, this day was going to go from bad to worse, very quicky.

You wanted to blame all of this on Chris, mainly because even looking at his handsome face infuriated you more than anything. But your reasonable side knew that the problems with the gifts had nothing to do with him and you were still holding a grudge from years before. You needed to get this out of your system, once and for all.

You poked around the storage room in your office for any extra toys; a few boxes remained and you remembered that several gift cards remained – a few of the older kids may want to buy something instead.

Okay, this will work. This isn’t so bad, right?

Packing up the new gifts in bags and leaving the soggy toys by your desk, you headed back to your car and off to the Neighbourhood House.

“What? Where did these come from?” You gaped at the bags stuffed with tissue paper of every colour, full of gifts. Boxes upon boxes filled the front of the entryway, piled neatly underneath a large tree that almost touched the high ceiling.

“A gentleman came by, maybe 20 minutes ago with all of these, he said that they were part of the delivery you were bringing by this evening.”

“But...I...” Completely confused but relieved that you didn’t need to explain the mess that had happened earlier in the day, you smiled at the shelter employee and made your way back out to your car to bring in the remainder of the gifts.

“Thank you for your kind donation this year, including our staff this year was not expected,” Marjorie the director of the Neighbourhood House gushed.

Was this some alternate universe where gifts started popping up where ever you went. What the hell was going on? Had your team approved an extra donation at the last moment?

It didn’t take more than a few minutes for you to figure out what was going on. There he stood, inside the main entrance of the building, hands in his pockets, bouncing on his heels, whistling a Christmas song and completely avoiding eye contact.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you asked, walking up to the smirking man.

“Trying to follow in your footsteps and help out the community more? Is that okay with you?” Chris snapped back at you.

Storming out of the building, you rushed to your car, in hopes of escaping Chris. His long strides caught up to you in no time, meeting you at the SUV but before you could put your hand on the door handle, he took hold of your arm and turned your body to face him.

“Why are you so angry at me? All I did after I saw you three years ago, was to send you flowers! Do you hate flowers or something?! I’m trying to figure out what the hell I did to you to make you act this way around me?”

“I have no idea what you’re going on about; you’re absolutely delusional,” you spat at him and went to pull at the handle too fast, ripping back one of your nails. You shouted out in pain, holding your finger tightly with the other hand, face flushing red out of anger and pain.

He reached out, placing his hand on your shoulder, trying to stop you from turning away. “Y/N-

“Don’t touch me!” You shouted, pulling away your arm in disgust, “the last time you did that, you broke my fucking heart!” And with those final words, you pulled on the door handle again, hopping into the car and screaming once more before starting the engine. Your head fell to the steering wheel, hitting your forehead into the it several times while angry words spouted out of your mouth.

Having no idea what was going on, Chris drove away from the shelter, utterly confused by what you had screamed at him. How the hell had he broken your heart? After spending the night at your place all those years ago, a lazy morning and a wonderful breakfast, he had made his way back home with the promise to see you again two days later. Unfortunately, his schedule had a last-minute change and he had to head out several days earlier than expected. He’d spoken with Scott and begged him to pop by your office and drop off a bouquet as an apology and that he would reschedule when he returned to town the following week. What if...

Chris turned the wheel fast, tires screeching as he maneuvered a U-Turn and headed back towards his house. Once parked, he slammed his car door and pushed his way into his house, the aggression taken out on the door as he slammed it. He immediately headed up to the guest room to find his brother. He found him quickly, the younger Evans sitting back and looking engaged in a book that once sat on Chris’s nightstand. Scott jumped when Chris burst into the room, letting out a scream and throwing the book towards his older brother.

“Chris! What the hell, man,” shouted Scott and got up for the bed to stand in front of his brother.

“I’ve got something to ask you and you better have an answer that makes sense,” Chris shouted. “What happened when I asked you to send Y/N flowers all those years ago?”

Scott nodded, his eyes looking to the ground, afraid to meet his brother's cold stare. “I... I forgot to do what you asked. I ended up with a call from my agent and was excited about the conversation I had and it slipped my mind. Plus, there were a thousand other things that came up that week. I’m sorry?” Scott apologized, looking up and meeting his brothers' eye, a little smile on his face, looking for forgiveness.

“Scott! What do you mean you forgot?” Chris stepped closer to Scott, almost nose to nose.

“Exactly what I said, I forgot to go by. I had a lot of other things going on that week if I’m remembering clearly. Was it too hard for you to call or message her?”

“I thought the flowers would be a romantic gesture. I can’t believe you never went by, now I know why she doesn’t want me near her. The thing is, when I got back, I did call her and she never picked up.”

“Do you not know how to leave a voicemail? A text? Are you really that idiotic?”

“She just...I just...” Chris couldn’t stop fumbling with his words.

“You’re something else, dear older brother. But I know you can talk and I know you have a romantic side. So, where to start?”

Chris shuffled his feet, embarrassed that he hadn’t given you the time and respect you deserved all those years ago. “I guess I should try to talk to her,” he mumbled.

Scott pushed his right shoulder, “Come on Rico Suave, you can fix this, right?”

“I’m pretty sure after her stewing on this for 3 years, that my chances are nil.”

“Bat those pretty blues and sing to her, I swear, use your Evans charm, or continue being a dumbass, your choice,” Scott shrugged.

Chris shook his head in annoyance and walked away from his brother. Could he fix this?

“So, lover boy, what’s going on in that big head of yours?”

“I’m going to go by her office and I’m going to beg her to come by the house.”

“And what

“I have an idea. What do you think about this...”

The chimes jingled as the door to your office opened “I’ll be right with you, I just have to send off this email,” you said. A few more words added and you hit the send button. “Okay, done. What can I help...” You tried to finish your sentence but that cat definitely had your tongue. The second your eyes met the blue eyes of the man you despised more than anything, you couldn’t finish asking your question.

“Y/N, please, please let talk to you about what happened, or what I think happened. Please,” Chris pleaded, seconds away from falling to his knees and begging.

You were tongue tied, the snark you could so easily dish out was stuck in the back of your throat, silenced.

“I’m sorry that I came by work, I didn’t know how else to get a hold of you. You did a pretty good job of blocking me on every form of media and communication I have. When I saw Rosie, I couldn’t help but ask about you.”

“Why are you here?” you whispered, trying to hold back tears that were fueled by sadness and anger.

“I want to, I need to talk to you about what happened. A few things came to light today, that I didn’t know and I would appreciate if you would take the time to listen and hear me out.”

Before you could try to respond, your phone sang out a tune, the one that you have reserved for Rosie. Pulling your phone from your back pocket, you now had an excuse to pull your eyes away from Chris.

Y/N. Please give him a chance. Hear him out, I swear it's worth it.

“Rosie is in on this too? Why are you involving my friends Chris? I swear, you better make this worth it.”

“Please. Y/N. After you finish up here, will you come by my place and I promise all I want to do is speak and I’d appreciate it if you’d be willing to listen.”

You needed to sit down. The anxiety building quickly, you couldn’t breathe. “Fine. I’ll come by in an hour. I’ll sit. I’ll listen. That’s all. Deal?”

Chris’s face lit up, a half-smile forming, “Deal, I’ll see you shortly.” He gave a little wave and headed back out into the night.

You sat in your car outside of Chris’s beautiful house, nervous as to what the night was going to bring. After all of these years, what did he need to tell you? Would a simple text not suffice? You took a deep breath and unbuckled your seatbelt, ready to pull off the Band-Aid quickly and get this all over with. Feet finally out of your car, you walked across the gravel drive to his front door, knocking and hearing Dodger bark at the sound. Footsteps followed soon after, the door unlocked, and there, there was the most handsome man you had ever seen (and couldn’t stand).

“I was wondering when you were going to get out of your car. I heard you drive up about twenty minutes ago and I figured you were having second thoughts about coming. I’m glad you’re here though, so thank you.” Chris moved aside and you walked into the entryway, pulling off your shoes and placing the beside the door. “Follow me, we can sit in the front room. Would you like a drink?”

“I’m pretty sure a drink is necessary.”

“Let me go grab something, take a look around, okay?”

Walking to the couch, you checked out the little plants and decorative items he had placed around the room. There were some great art pieces on his walls and when you got closer to the couch, the painting hung above it stopped you. “What the...” It couldn’t be, there was no way that he could have known all this time and not have said anything. This man lived to rub shit in your face – the ultimate gloater. In front of you, on the wall above his couch, was the painting you had donated all those years ago to the gallery. Dodger’s nails tapped on the wooden floor, pulling your mind (and jaw) back into place. You heard footsteps following and a tune being whistled as he walked through the doorway, a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands.

“I thought you might like a glass of this, I...” he stopped halfway to you and realized that you were still standing in the middle of the room, your mouth half open and staring at him. His eyes flicked to the painting on the wall and then back to your face, you could see the look of panic slowly starting to take over. “I...I can explain,” he stuttered taking several steps closer to you.

“How-”

“There was something that was pushing me to find out and that night, I called the owner of the gallery and asked if I could find out which piece you had donated. She was hesitant to offer any details but as privileged as this sounds, I offered to donate a large sum to the charity and buy another painting from her gallery to get the information. I needed to see what you created and once I had it, I couldn’t stay away from you...which is why we kept running into each other the way we did. Please don’t be creeped out.”

“Are you completely forgetting about the whole fuck ‘n chuck moment? You hunt me down and flash your pearly whites at me, make me feel something for you, we get into bed, and poof, you disappear. Care to explain before I get the hell out of here? You replied angrily, your face flushing out of frustration.

“Y/N...”

“Y/N, what? Oh, it wasn’t the right time. I didn’t think it meant anything...”

“That’s not it, that’s not it at all.”

"Then what is it, Christopher. You never shut up and when I need you to say something, you clam up. What IS IT?” You couldn’t help but shout, you were angry, sad, and had no idea where this was going.

“If you stopped jumping over what I keep trying to say, then maybe I could get everything out. So, for a few minutes, can you keep your mouth shut. Shit, and I thought I was annoying,” he explained loudly.

You nodded; eyes wide that he had raised his voice to get his story across. You were wound up so tightly, incredibly hurt by his action's years ago, that you didn’t exactly know how to contain and cope with your emotions. You took a seat on the couch and looked up at him, still standing where he first entered the room and had stopped when he noticed you looking at your own art in his house. He took a few steps closer and looked to you, “Is it okay if I sit on the couch next to you?”

“I guess...”

Chris sat a comfortable distance from you, placed the wine glasses and bottle on the table and waited until you settled and looked to him to continue on.

“I messed everything up, I’m taking all responsibility for this giant mess.” Chris sat silent for a few moments, his fingers intertwined and his left thumb rubbing across the right. He was clearly nervous. Clearing his throat and lifting his head up, blue eyes meeting yours, he blinked once and began to speak. “It was never my intention to hurt you. I messed up and badly. When I left you that morning, my plan was to see you again, once I returned home from my work trip. Everything happened so fast that day and to be honest with you, my head was in the clouds; all of my thoughts revolved around you and the wonderful evening I had with you. I was so busy in dreamland, that I ended up almost missing my flight. I asked Scott to help me out and send a bouquet of flowers to you, with a note explaining that I had to leave earlier and that I would call you soon. The thing is, I thought he had followed through and didn’t even know until the other day that he had never sent the flowers or note to you. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I did try to call though, when I was home and you never answered and I figured the night meant nothing to you.”

You sat there, silent for a few moments trying to take in everything he had said “Well, aren’t we a bunch of idiots,” you said, looking at him, a smile on your face.

The corner of Chris’s mouth lifted, a smile in there. “Does this mean you forgive me?"

“I mean, I’m still upset but I get that miscommunication can happen and I mean, how many people go as far as calling a gallery to hunt down a painting and then buying it. You’re pretty unbelievable, Evans.”

“But do you forgive me?” Chris asked as he scooted closer to you and let his fingers crawl closer to yours.

You took a hold of his hand and brought it to your lips, and kissed his knuckles softly. “I do forgive you Chris and I hope you forgive me for how hostile I’ve been. I really appreciate what you did for the Neighbourhood House too, I’ve never seen anything like that and you saved the day, so, thank you.” You kissed his hand again and looked up at him, a smile still on his face.

Chris sighed and watched as you pulled his hand into your lap. “Y/N, is it too soon to ask if I can kiss you?”

“That would make me incredibly happy,” you replied and moved in closer, meeting his soft lips again after all these years. “I’m still mad at you though, I hope you know that. And let’s not forget about Rosie. I can’t believe the two of you did this. I’m still mad at her too.

Chris pulled you in for another kiss, running his hands through your hair. “I know. I plan on making it up to you. I’ll help with every event; I’ll clean up your messy office. I’ll even carrying you and your toys through the slush.”

You couldn’t help but laugh and pull him down with you to lay on the couch. “I can’t wait for you to get started.”

#Chris Evans #chris evans x reader #Chris Evans x you #chris evans rpf #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #writing challenge #ssholidaychallenge #redwrites

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highnicknick · 3 years ago

Text

I posted 802 times in 2021

31 posts created (4%)

771 posts reblogged (96%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 24.9 posts.

I added 32 tags in 2021

#hermitcraft - 12 posts

#grian - 4 posts

#hermitcraft headcanons - 3 posts

#mumbo jumbo - 3 posts

#dream smp - 3 posts

#rendog - 2 posts

#cosplay - 2 posts

#geminitay - 1 posts

#headcanons - 1 posts

#dream smp headcannon - 1 posts

Longest Tag: 49 characters

#okay but i wouldnt be surprised if foolish joined

My Top Posts in 2021

More random hermitcraft headcanons

mumbo is 1/8 spider, 1/8 cow, 1/8 alien, 1/8 enderman, 1/4 potato, and 1/4 human. he forgets about most of these

mumbo cam become a literal potato if he wants to

when mumbo is in potato form the other hermits play catch with him

tfc is god

grian etho and bdubs are part gremlin

grian is THE strongest person on hermitcraft

x can be "tamed" with cookies

doc surgically implanted horns into his head before season 6

every hermit has adopted at least 1 person from the dsmp

jevin physically radiated positivity

a part of jevins head is not his, due to him, slimecicle, and petezahhutt trading small bits of themselves because they're slime bros

grians eyes are both the void and lumps of coal

grian t poses while on his tippy toes in front of bdubs

x once accidentally ate a shulker box worth of cookies

mumbo has snorted redstone dust on numerous occasions

mumbo likes grabbing peoples shoulders

grian was college roommates with sally the salmon

grian was on the dsmp for a week

grian and dream are biological brothers. only grian knows this

last life is actually a vr gaming session

tango is 1/16 tnt

impulse was a pirate once

iskall can play recorder with his nose

ren one day just randomly became half dog and was like "oh okay"

gem became half deer as soon as she stepped foot into hermitcraft

pearl is always cold

false is always warm

pearl and false like to snuggle to normalize their temperatures /p

keralis is part chicken

mumbo randomly teleports when stressed

grian once fought and killed god before tfc was god

dsmp worships tfc not knowing its tfc

joe is the best selling author

cleo once set an abandoned school on fire

iskall drinks a LOT of water

helsknight and ex arent evil, just not chaotic

zedaph once ate an entire plains biome

hermitcraft is the one place not run by anyone from the dsmp that people from the dsmp can freely go

cub lives life on 1.25x speed

36 notes • Posted 2021-10-13 00:50:41 GMT

thank you @birch-forest for making this picrew, ive made 7 hermits using it and am currently making more

38 notes • Posted 2021-11-01 04:43:31 GMT

Random Hermitcraft Headcanons

Every single smp knows about hermitcraft

X can shapeshift into any living thing except people under 4'6 and above 7'6

For the first few seasons, new hermits just randomly appeared and were like "oh okay guess im here now"

Mumbo joined hermitcraft at 14 years

Tfc is 60k years old

Jevin is made of 2 layers, an inner "core" of oobleck and an outer layer of slime

Scar is actually 6'4

Grian can lift any other hermit with 1 hand

The only hermits to cut their hair are Grian, Joe, and Bdubs cause they don't know how and theyre scared of Bdubs

Bdubs is half feral cat

Iskall is a third human, third guardian, third slime

Ren has written fanfiction of some of the other hermits, they haven't said anything yet

Mumbo cosplays the other hermits and has a cosplay tiktok account with over 100k, over half of the hermits follow it, no one knows its mumbo

No hermit is fully human

Cub acts like a teen despite being in his 40s

Mumbo was emo before hermitcraft and have the emo clothes and accessories to Cub

Mumbos hair is naturally brown, and he dyes it with ink sacks. For the first month of season 8, his hair was brown

Iskall is a tetris god

Gem can do a triple backflip

Scars big hat is 6 feet tall, making him 11'2 in his wheelchair

Pearl knows Japanese, Arabic, French, and Spanish

Pearl is half raven

From mcc, theyve adopted everyone they teamed with and they live with the person they teamed with most (Hbomb with Ren, Joel with Cub and Grian, TapL with Pearl, ect.)

Jevin jiggles in front of people to cheer them up

People use Jevin as a stress ball

Scar is a fourth cat

Grian knows exactly how to scare every other hermit

Hermits give therapy to the DSMP

Grian grew wings as soon as he joined hermitcraft. It was painful

Etho does the among us sound effects perfectly

Etho and Tango have a weekly anime group meeting with InTheLittleWood and Philza

Keralis has dry skin

Jevin goes into a bucket when stressed

53 notes • Posted 2021-10-04 09:37:11 GMT

Random hermitcraft headcanons the third but this time theres a lot of dsmp crossover

grian and wilbur/tommy/techno are cousins

scar and doc are tubbos uncles

grian and dream were best friends all of middle and high school

a hermit has accidentally eaten mumbo before

tommy is originally from hermitcraft but dream stole him

iskall and niki are siblings

etho gave the dsmp it's shulker box

mumbo is ranboos older brother

tango eats mayo

grian taught tommy how to fly

grian was phils middle school science teacher

mumbo survived a 3k block fall with just sheer will, nothing below him

everyone on the dsmp sees any hermit as god

tfc is phils great great grandpa

wilbur had a grian phase where his entire personality and style was grian

doc and sam have swapped places numerous times, only being noticed when either dream hears german cursing or when ren smells an american

mumbo and ranboo are both 6'8

fundy ren and gem have a furry cult

half the dsmp fears grian, the other half stand him

x is dreams biological dad

joe likes to meet dream in prison just to read him poems hours on end, dream doesn't entirely hate it

73 notes • Posted 2021-10-25 01:50:47 GMT

can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars i could really use a wish right now wish right now wish right now

103 notes • Posted 2021-07-08 13:29:40 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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themaskedwriter · 6 years ago

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Home

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: Cursing

Summary: Saturdays are not for housing superheroes, and you don’t care if one of them is your army buddy and the other a cyborg who, okay, is kinda cute when he’s not clutching his twitching arm like it’s his goddamn teddybear. So of course, your tiny house becomes a tiny superhero central.

Author clues: An occasional angst queen with a sweet tooth who lives in a very fine country.

Generally, when the phone rings in the middle of the night, it’s never good news. It’s death and mayhem and all manners of misdeeds just waiting to ruin your night, your morning and possibly the entire week that follows. Your solution had been to move around a lot. If you never stay long enough in one place, then death and mayhem and all those misdeeds never get a chance to catch up with you. Unless-

“Someone better be dying,” you grunt when you answer, not bothering with greetings or pleasantries. Anyone calling at, fuck, 3.22 am can frankly go fornicate themselves.

“I need your coordinates.”

“No.”

“Come on, I promise, it’s just for the night.”

“Last time you said that, Wilson, you stayed for a week and Captain America bled all over my couch.”

At the other end of a very unstable line - is he fucking flying and calling? - Sam winces, because yeah, last time was a fucking rollercoaster of bad, and you ended up moving as soon as they were out the door and refusing to answer Sam’s texts for two weeks just to be sure you could get some actual peace and quiet.

“No one is bleeding. Much.”

“Sam…”

“I swear on my sainted nana’s grave no one will be bleeding when we get there.”

We? Jesus, did someone shoot Captain America again? You groan and roll over, pressing your face into the pillow.

“It’s just one night, I swear, we just need someplace to lay low before we can move on and haul ass back to base.”

You hate Sam Wilson. You do, you’ll put it in writing, you’ll write a goddamn op ed for the fucking New York Times listing all the reasons he is a terrible, terrible friend. All you wanted was a nice, quiet life, a little time to figure shit out after an honorable discharge from the Army, and then that idiot had to go and become a goddamn superhero with his goddamn wings and the goddamn Avengers as his goddamn squad. He owes you. He owes you so much and he’ll owe you even more- Aw, fuck.

“I’ll give you twelve hours before I kick you out on your asses.”

“You are the best, I’ve always said that, you know. The best. The goat-”

“Please, never call me that again.”

“Sourpuss.”

“I’ll bill you for anything you destroy,” you mutter, ending the call before Sam can say anything.

Rolling over on your back again, you breathe in deeply through your nose, staring at the light ceiling panelling. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You text Sam your coordinates, telling him where to find the spare key because you draw the line at getting up to act as a welcome committee at this unholy hour.

>>Thanks, I owe you one. S

>>U owe me several. Don’t expect mints on the pillows and dont. fuckin. wake me. >:(

>>You’re adorable when you’re cranky. We’ll be there in about an hour.

>>Fuk u

Sam Wilson is a terrible, terrible friend, but at least he doesn’t actually wake you. He’s even up and looking far too chirpy when you crawl down from your sleep loft four hours later. Seriously, fuck Sam Wilson. Fuck Sam Wilson, and-

“I like your digs.” He hands you a cup of coffee and thankfully does not attempt a hug.

“Yeah, well, makes running away from unbidden houseguests easy,” you grunt back, taking a sip of the glorious coffee.

Sam snorts, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “As if you could fit actual houseguests in here. You’re lucky I spent half my childhood playing Tetris, or we would’ve had a problem getting in here.”

You glance over his shoulder, at the blanket-covered lump on your couch. Granted, the damn thing is from IKEA and required at least five curse words for every step in the assembly instructions, but the covering is a nice, pale shade of beige. “So who’s bleeding all over my place this time?”

“No one’s bleeding, I patched ‘im up just to preemptively get you off my ass.”

“So he was bleeding. That why you needed to crash?”

The way Sam hesitates makes it clear that blood loss is not the culprit here. You glare at him, and Sam Awful Terrible Friend Wilson rolls his eyes at you and walks past you and up to the couch, pulling down the covers.

“That’s…” You stare. There’s no better way to put it. “Sam, he’s- Why is his arm detached? Why is it wriggling?”

“We had a minor snafu. Barnes got dosed with something and it made his arm go a little haywire. It’s wired into his nervous system, so we had to do an emergency detachment until the thing is out of his system so he won’t helicopter himself into the sky or, you know, hurt anyone.”

“So why is it still twitching like a zombie limb? Please, don’t tell me he’s turning into a zombie. I can’t deal with a zombie apocalypse. I use Zombies! Run, but that’s the closest I ever want to come to the undead because even with that I fucking jump out of my skin when I start hearing heavy breathing in my ears and-”

“He’s not turning into a zombie, jeez!” Sam tosses the covers back in place, covering up Barnes and the twitchy arm. “It’s still receiving faint signals, so it’s acting like a nervous grandma. It’s completely harmless. Ha! I gotta remember that one when he wakes up.”

Jesus H. Christ. Where is a brick wall when you need one? “Sam!”

“Stark’s coming to pick us up in two hours, we’ll be out of your hair. We’ll even take the arm with us.”

You give an indignant sniff, heading back to the little ladder that leads up to your loft. “Fuck you, Wilson, I’m going back to bed and won’t come down until you and Terminator over there are out of my house.”

“Aw, come on! We’re delightful! Look, Barnes is even more delightful because he is asleep so you won’t even have to deal with him being Mr. Personality!”

You could tell him that from your perspective, Barnes is the preferable option in this situation because he is asleep and thus not bothering you. Instead, you opt for a succinct reply in the form of your middle finger and start to ascend the ladder, coffee mug tightly gripped in one hand. Saturdays are holy, okay? Saturdays are for waking up late, having coffee and then crawling back to your bed where the covers are still warm and just wait for the sun to rise high enough in the sky that you’re tempted to go outside. Saturdays are not for housing superheroes, and you don’t care if one of them is your army buddy and the other a cyborg who, okay, is kinda cute when he’s not clutching his twitching arm like it’s his goddamn teddybear.

To be fair, Sam cuts out his little comedian act, and shuts up. There’s the odd shuffling from below, but nothing more, and you manage to doze off, wrapped like a burrito in your covers. It’s almost enough to make you forget that you have houseguests.

Until Sam pinches your toe.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” he whispers, shaking your foot and you’re surprised you don’t kick him in the face.

“Piss off.”

“Delightful. We’re rolling out in five. I told Stark to bring you some decent breakfast as thanks.”

Well. Breakfast is an acceptable offering. There better be waffles, or you might need to kick Stark. With a grunt, you start extricating yourself from your covers, rooting around until you find a cardigan to wrap yourself in. Sam’s by the couch when you get down, ripping the covers from Sleeping Barnes and shaking his shoulder.

“Hey, Princess Elsa, our ride’s almost here.”

Barnes, who seems to appreciate sleeping as much as you do, tries to turn over and away from the rude awakening, but apparently manages to tickle himself on the detached arm, because the man gives a very high-pitched yelp before he very ungracefully tumbles off the couch and lands on his ass.

“Morning, Barnes.”

“Fuck you, Wilson,” Barnes grumbles with a glare that is… impressive.

“There’s coffee if you can inhale it in the next five minutes,” Sam tells him, shrugging of his umpteenth cuss-out in the last six hours.

“Bring… coffee…”

You’re not a rude host. Unwilling, but not rude. Coffee is a glorious drink, and you would never deny anyone the elixir of Life and General Functionality. You pour a cup for the man, bringing it to him, and Barnes stares at you, then at Sam, then takes a second to look around, mouth slowly falling open.

“Wilson, I think I’m-”

“What? You still not sobered up from the funky gas?”

“Either that, or I fell through the looking glass. Am I gonna grow and have my legs sprout through the window? Because that is not good,” Barnes says, gulping down his coffee and then peering up at you. “I’m not sure if you’re real, but either way, I have very impressive thighs. Hi, I’m Bucky”

He fires off a smile that is probably meant to look charming, but only succeeds in looking loopy. Sam, finally getting a fraction of the embarrassed he should be for dragging himself and this crazy ass man into your home, groans and facepalms. It is hilarious.

“Sam, I hate to say this, but I like this guy.”

“Sam, the hallucination is talking to you.”

“I’m not a hallucination,” you tell him, leaning down to pinch his left shoulder. “It’s a tiny house, made even tinier because yikes, you are built.”

Barnes, Bucky, yelps and his coffee sloshes dangerously against the edges of his mug.

“Well, that just seems very unfair to me. And Steve. Oh, jeez, and Bruce. Do you have anything against swole?”

“First of all, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it, and second of all, if you’re Bucky Barnes then I’d very much like to know who the fuck taught you the word ‘swole’.”

Bucky Barnes, the most handsome centenarian in the entire world, is a delight, all smiles and jokes, and Sam is terrible for dragging him away. A godawful wind kicks up outside, heralding the arrival of Tony Stark, and you decide this is way too many superheroes. One is acceptable. Two is pushing it. Bucky, having realized he has in fact not shrunk, takes his time looking around while they head out and ends up clipping his head and oh, how people would blush if they heard the downright filth that Sergeant James B. Barnes lets out as he stumbles down the stairs.

Stark makes a joke about custody exchanges, and you tune out more than half because he brought breakfast, and oh sweet Mary above, there are waffles. Sam and Bucky say their goodbyes, and you wave them off, too engrossed in the gorgeousness of waffles drenched in maple syrup and topped with fresh berries. For this, you could almost be okay with a superhero or two crashing for a night.

Not that you’ll ever be.

You have limits.

So of course, your tiny house becomes a tiny superhero central. First it’s Sam, again. Then it’s Stark. He almost gets his ass kicked out when he goes on and on about how you can live with the bare minimum of technology. You definitely kick him out when he wants to chip your house so people won’t have to call you at the asscrack of dawn to let you know, not ask, they are incoming. He does get back in your good graces by giving you a double serving of waffles.

Then, in quick succession, it’s Steve, Sam and Rhodey, Bucky, Barton and Bucky again. Most of them are okay house guests. Barton wins points by appearing genuinely interested in how you’ve set up your living space, quizzing you about layouts and building and the pros and cons of having your entire life confined to 240 square feet. He also loses those points when you wake up to find him sitting on the edge of the sleep loft, overlooking the house. Sam and Rhodey together is not as big of a disaster as one might think, mainly because Rhodey occasionally pulls rank on Sam and honestly? Thank god. Steve, bless him, tries to bend over backwards to not put you out, and his calls all include at least 75 permutations of an apology for calling.

Bucky.

He keeps his arm in place for the next couple of times. On the rare occasions when he’ll call in the middle of the day, he’ll always knock and wait until you open, he’ll insist on “earning his keep”, which is how you come to be the recipient of flowers, breakfast, and a very rare bathroom concerto that Bucky doesn’t know you overheard. The man has a very good singing voice, and it makes your heart skip a beat when he croons “It’s Been a Long, Long Time”. He’s the easiest to get along with, even one early morning when you wake up to his shuffling and cussing because your coffee maker refuses to cooperate. He doesn’t mind the quiet, doesn’t fret around like Stark (who insists that the laptop loaded with every streaming service imaginable and the usernames and passwords for each laid out on a sticky note that he left there is absolutely not a pity gift but a sound investment for both of your continued sanity).

“D’you like this?” Bucky asks one evening, his voice floating up from the living room area.

“I mean, it could be worse. I could be housing Stark for the night,” you quip, rolling over and making something that might be construed as a tumble to get to the edge of the bed.

“I feel like that might have been an insult wrapped in another insult. But that’s not what I meant.”

You can only see Bucky’s feet in the soft light of a lamp, peeking out from the covers. He always sleeps with his feet facing the door, always on his back. The only time he hasn’t was the first time when Sam brought him, and something in you feels bad that Bucky can’t relax even in his sleep.

“No?”

“I meant… this. Living in a small box. Moving around all the time. It’s… Doesn’t it ever get hard? After I got- When I got back, Steve almost had to fight me to move into the Tower. I wanted to go home, you know. To Brooklyn. I don’t know, it was a stupid thought, but I kept thinking if I go back, it’s all still there. The apartment we lived in, the same streets and the same shops and… my family. It felt weird to make another home, but now I don’t know if I could move again.”

His voice is soft, a far cry from the persona he’s portrayed as in the media. The Winter Soldier is hard edges and cold steel, but Bucky Barnes… Bucky Barnes is soft, a whisper in the darkness and a longing for something that’s no longer there.

“It wasn’t that hard for me, because I needed this. I was out there, in all of that big space with nothing but orders and trusting that someone else knew what we were supposed to do. I’d had a place back in Atlanta before, and I’d packed up all my stuff and rented the place to some college kids. They’d already moved out when I got back, and I thought I was gonna go nuts the first night back. That place had felt like a shoebox before I shipped out and now it was so… big. Had a friend who made these kinds of houses, so he helped me build one pretty much from scratch and my first night here I slept like a baby.”

“It’s not that I don’t like it.” God, he sounds almost a bit panicked, like he’s insulted you.

“No, I don’t mind. It’s not for everyone. I just feel I have myself better together on less than 300 square feet. I mean, I don’t go from house to house. This is still a home. It’s just a home I can move around with when I need to see new places.”

There’s a little huff. “Like the middle of nowhere, New Mexico?”

You glance back to the small window next to your bed, at the clouds tinted in burnt orange and vivid pink, the sun setting slowly into the vast horizon. “Yeah. I’ve never been here. I wanted to see it, and now I have.”

“You know, that sounds like I’m gonna wake up in the desert tomorrow morning because a bird is trying to steal my covers.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Barnes,” you tease, crawling back to roll yourself into your own covers again. “I wouldn’t leave you with that blanket. It’s my favourite.”

“Yeah.” His voice is almost a whisper, but you can still make out his next words: “Mine, too.”

When he leaves the next morning, something feels different. He’s tentative at breakfast, burns a few pancakes and once again clips his head on the doorway heading out when Nat touches down the quinjet to pick him up. Breakfast changes hands, Nat fills you in on some gossip. Bucky’s shoulders are slumped when he trudges up and into the cargo hold.

“Wait!”

You run inside, depositing the bag of breakfast on your counter, grabbing the blanket from the couch and folding it into a mess that would pass exactly zero inspections before heading back out. Nat’s joined Bucky on the quinjet landing, and she quirks and eyebrow when you all but thrust the bunched up fabric into Bucky’s arms.

“A bit of home,” you blurt out, immediately feeling heat creep up your cheeks. “Can’t hurt to have more of that.”

Bucky chuckles, “No… I guess it can’t.”

You move three days later. The New Mexico desert makes you restless, makes you itch for something else. For a couple of weeks, you drift further and further north, looking for a place that doesn’t put you on edge. You plough through the Midwest, but there’s always something. You text Sam just to become annoyed and feel something else. He calls a couple of times, facetimes you on your birthday so the whole gang can wish you happy birthday. you smile, taking a screenshot to save the memory for a rainy day. They’re all there, sitting around an obscenely big dinner table, glasses raised, mouths open mid-sentence. Stark looks magnanimous as always, sunglasses perched on top of his head, Steve’s got an expression that’s somewhere between his Captain America-smile and a genuine Steve Rogers-grin. Bucky… Bucky is not there. Or at least you can’t see him. Maybe he’s at the very end of the table, obscured by the others. Not that you care. You don’t. You absolutely don’t. You definitely don’t look for him in the picture every time you bring it up.

You move again. It’s too calm. You’ve had no superheroes visiting in two months, no late night calls inquiring about coordinates. Stark’s laptop is shoved into a drawer where you can’t see it, there’s a new blanket draped over your couch pretending it’s always been there.

>>Coordinates?

The text from the unknown number comes in late one evening when you’re gearing up to let bygones be bygones and forget the Midwest ever existed. You could cry with how happy it makes you, even though a text means one or more of them is in trouble and maybe you should be a little worried, too. The Avengers are good people, but they’re not unlike cats, dragging others with them. Like murder bots and weird aliens. You dutifully send your coordinates, biting your lip before adding:

>>Don’t wake me, and don’t make me wake up to bad guys on my porch

>>They scare the neighbours

>>I have a reputation to think of

Your only neighbours are trees, but still. No one likes bad guys.

Setting your phone down, you tuck yourself into bed. Whoever’s coming knows where to find the key to get in. Stark, again, wanted to set you up with some biometric doohickey that would make it impossible for anyone not in the system to get in, since “keys are so unreliable, look at Parker, he could probably pick it after five minutes on youtube”. He stopped talking when you pointed out your house is a glorified box on wheels, and that there are far easier ways to get in than to pick the lock or even rush the door. You’d had to tell him he was not allowed to turn your house into a tank.

When the sun rises, waking you up with a well-placed ray right in your eyes, you expect to hear… something. Sam, Nat and Steve are all early wakers, there would be the telltale sounds and scents of breakfast being prepared. Tony, much as he tries to vehemently deny it, snores. God, is it Barton? You raise your head, and let out a sigh of relief to see the loft empty save for yourself and the sparse furnishings. Could still be Barton, he’s just learned to stay out of your nest and accept that he’s not top of the pecking order here.

But when you get down from your loft, there’s no one there. Blinking, you look around, as if whoever texted you last night will jump out from some impossible corner. The couch is untouched, everything is where you left it. Was it Bruce and he couldn’t de-Hulk so he slept outside? You check your phone to see if there are any unread text or missed calls, but there’s nothing.

>>Did you leave already?

The reply comes within seconds.

>>No. Outside.

So… Bruce? Furrowing your brow, you go pull a pair of sweats from the hamper, yawning wide before you head for the door. You’re not exactly sure what to expect, but finding the clearing you’ve set up camp in empty is… anticlimactic, to say the least.

“Hello?” you call out, stepping down the stairs, a shiver running down your spine from the cool morning air.

Nothing. The wind sighs in the tops of the trees, a crack from a branch breaking the calm. Ahead of you, something catches your eye, far too colourful to be part of the wooded area.

“What the hell?”

Folded neatly on the ground is your blanket, your old blanket, the one you gave to-

“Sam told me you’d been moving around a lot. Figured maybe you could need a bit more home.”

You yelp and whirl around to find Bucky sitting on the stairs, filling up the doorway and smiling smugly at you.

“How-” You look at him, then around at the clearing and back to Bucky, pointing at him. “You- What?”

“Sorry, I… thought it would be fun. It was creepy, wasn’t it?” He scratches the back of his head, getting of the stairs, approaching you slowly. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Are you okay?” It’s second nature by now to give him a once-over, to expect bruises and scrapes and, let’s be honest, blood. Seeing nothing doesn’t necessarily mean he’s okay. These yahoos are notorious about playing off little things like internal bleedings, cracked ribs and concussions.

“What, no! I mean, yes, yes, I’m okay. I wasn’t in any scuffle. Haven’t been for a while. You can check me if you like.”

Pursing your lips, you look him up and down while you circle him, prodding at his ribs, his hands, his cheekbone. Satisfied that he’s not injured, you come to a stop in front of him.

“Not that I don’t enjoy seeing you again, but… why are you here?”

“Been travelling. Sort of like this, but without the… tiny house, was it? I thought about what you said, about home and all that, and I realized that maybe I need to reevaluate what home means. Going away to figure out what I miss and what I need.”

He raises his right hand to drag the fingertips along the soft blanket, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It sounds cheesy as all hell, but your heart skips a beat, your breath catching in your throat, because he looks so content, so relaxed.

“Yeah? Did you find the answer then? What’s home?” you ask, cursing your voice for sounding breather than you ever intended it to.

“See, I packed light. Couple changes of clothes, toothbrush, the regular stuff… and this.” He takes a firm hold of the blanket with both hands, pulling it from you, shaking it out. “And I missed a lot of things in the beginning. People… things… comforts. But I learned to make do without all of those. Only thing I couldn’t get past missin’…”

You watch wide eyed as Bucky wraps the blanket over your shoulders, tugging at the ends to bring it in tightly over your chest, cocooning you in it.

“…is in this blanket,” he finishes, his gaze focused on where his hands holds it close. “I missed mornings with you. Even the first morning when I woke up feelin’ like a drunk sailor after pub crawl thinking Stark or someone had shrunk me down to the size of a bean. I missed your tiny house and your couch and your coffee and… and you.”

And you.

Maybe it’s another cliché, but you can’t help the smile, the sudden joy that bubbles up along with the sensation of right. All these days that have somehow bled into months of moving, of unease, they are drawn into this moment. They breathe a sigh of relief, settling. This is it, this is what all that drifting was about. Finding the spot where your roads would lead you to stand toe to toe, wrapped in a well-worn blanket and realize that home can grow from a warmth that accumulated over so many mornings. You push at Bucky’s hands, making the blanket part, tugging the ends from his grip to sling your arms around his neck, bringing him into it.

The kisses don’t happen until later. First, there’s the quiet, the seconds and minutes wrapped in the blanket. Then, there is breakfast and coffee strong enough to make a spoon stand up straight and slightly overscrambled eggs and Bucky’s voice drifting from the bathroom with hums breaking up the lyrics. You kiss him like you want to taste him, commit him to memory, pulling him down by his neck and drawing in a sharp breath when drops of water fall down the neckline of your t-shirt. He kisses like he’s finally at rest, safe even when his attention is diverted.

>>Coordinates? Bit banged up, wings took a hit, out of your hair before tomorrow

>>image.jpeg

>>Sorry, find another safehouse, this one’s occupied

>>TMI WAY TMI DO NOT SAY ANOTHER WORD

>>It was just a selfie!

>>IN BED

>>Get ur head out of the gutter /JBB

>>I hate you guys

You smile at the final message, setting down the phone and curling up against Bucky with a sigh. The sheets are a mess by your feet, Bucky’s body heat enough to keep you both warm.

“Occuped, huh?” he smiles, tracing your lower lip with the pad of his thumb.

You nod, pressing a kiss to the finger.

“Welcome home.”

#fic

557 notes · View notes

jawnjendes · 6 years ago

Text

don’t want your hand this time | shawn mendes

chapter 1/?, university au, shawn x goth oc

AN: i know i know i posted a thing yesterday but UUUHHHHH im just tryna get to the saucy parts of this bc SOMEBODY decided to be all hot n sexy in a certain music video ANYWAY this is just an intro chapter of sorts and we are introducing some new characters!! lmk your thoughts thots!

***let me know if u wanna be added/removed from the taglist

masterlist | playlist coming soon

When Annalise Flores has shit to do within a time limit, she forgets about everything else. Her phone goes on silent, she ignores her other obligations, and she makes sure to get whatever is in her focus done. This has proven to be disastrous in the past, like when Annalise just needed to clean the entire dorm before starting any homework assignment was due the next day. Or when she reorganized the filing closet at the dealership before adding up the gas receipts she was ordered to do. You get the idea.

Annalise was very determined to get all of her unopened boxes, and her clothes to fit in her tiny, beat up car so she didn't have to make multiple trips, given how far campus is from Shawn's apartment. He promised he would help her move when he got home, he had that huge Jeep after all, but Annalise was way too antsy. Besides, they already fought about this, and she didn't want to start anything all over again. She didn't want him to feel obligated to help if only one of them was into the idea of her moving out.

After pushing on the car door three times, it finally clicked shut. Annalise successfully managed to stuff all of her clothes and half her boxes into the backseat. The rest of the boxes were in the trunk. The windows were all covered, so maybe she wouldn't be able to see her blind spots, but at least Annalise wouldn't have to make a second trip. She silently thanked the Tetris gods for blessing her with the appropriate skills as she went back up to the apartment.

Shawn's living space didn't look that different with all of Annalise's belongings out. Most of it was all stashed into the "recording" room over the summer, and neither of them spent any time in there. There was more space in the closet now, too. It was no longer just a black abyss, and all of Shawn's belongings were now undisturbed. Annalise debated smuggling out his black Nike hoodie, but given the circumstances it was best to leave everything as it was. The apartment didn't look any different really, but Annalise still felt an ache from her throat down to the bottom of her feet as she removed the spare key from her chain and left it on the glass dining table. This was easier than saying goodbye to him in person.

Campus was nowhere near as quiet and lonely as the apartment. Students were running around like headless chickens, trying to locate buildings, schedules, and friends. She already had a key to her dorm, so she parked near her building and carried her backpack and two boxes up the walkway. Annalise's resting bitch face and the clunk of her boots on the ground gave her less of a struggle to push past other students. Weak and fragile as she was these last couple of months, she's still got it.

The dorm building wasn't too far from the last one she lived in, but it was going to be a bitch getting to her classes. Maybe she should invest in a bike… or she should get her shit together and take the bus.

Annalise's new dorm was on the third floor, and it was furnished. Weird, yes, but she was not going to complain. It was a bit smaller, but not cramped. There was a tiny hallway between the two bedrooms, and one cramped bathroom. She noticed one room already had boxes sitting on the floor, and she couldn't help but get just a little excited. Stella hadn't completely abandoned her. Annalise wasn't even mad about their three month long silence, she was just happy that she would be seeing a familiar face.

She didn't run into Stella at all during the multiple trips she took bringing all her stuff in. Annalise knew she was here, though. Her perfume scent was always left behind in any room she had been in, and Annalise definitely caught the scent in the dorm. The same amount of boxes were still in her room by the time Annalise finished bringing all of her's in. She figured she could have texted Stella, but she kind of wanted to surprise her… even though they both knew about the other.

She checked her phone anyway. The only text she had was from Shawn.

"How come you didn't wait for me?"

Pursing her lips and smudging the signature black lipstick, Annalise cleared the notification and went to sit in the armchair in the living room. She was way too tired to try to reason with him. She certainly couldn’t jump into the "I miss you" crap so quickly either. She didn't want to, but Shawn obviously did when he sent another text. Out of sheer habit, Annalise opened the notification instead of clearing it, and she cursed under her breath.

"You've been gone only a few hours and this place already feels so sad and empty. Why did you leave your key?"

Yeah, she left him on read. She didn't know what else to say to him.

Thankfully, the lock on the door jiggled and in came Stella carrying a large cardboard box. She gasped and her hazel eyes lit up when she saw her dark natured roommate. She quickly squatted down and set the box on the floor before coming at Annalise with open arms.

"Mi esposa hermosa!"

Annalise will never say this out loud, but Stella gives wonderful hugs. They two girls haven't seen each other in over three months, so getting a nice tight hug was something that was really needed. They rocked from side to side, giggling at the motions. It was like nothing had really changed.

"When did I become your wife?" Annalise asked, amused as she leaned back to look at her.

"When we decided to live together for the third year in a row!" Stella replied. “Oh you got a little…” Her thumb rubbed under Annalise’s lip, showing her the black.

“The struggles of being goth,” she joked.

Stella giggled, and then the rambling began. "How are you? I'm so sorry we didn't talk much over the summer. Did you stay with Shawn the whole summer? Oh, is he here?" She bounced on her feet, looking around the dorm.

"Uh yeah, I did stay with him the entire time," she told her. "And no, he's not here. He's working."

Annalise knew he wasn't. He had found her abandoned key, which meant he was home. And he was probably sulking. And he was going to sleep alone...

"But he'll be here later, right?" Stella asked, nudging her arm. "Y'all are gonna christen your room, eh?"

She really had to ask, didn't she? She really had to jokingly ask a question that would change the expression on Annalise's face, thus warning her of the things that had happened. She wasn't sure why she kept an obviously fake smile on her face as she silently stared at her roommate. The silence alone wasn't enough, apparently.

Normally, Stella would dramatically gasp, sit her down, and ask Annalise to spill every detail. Instead, she sighed.

"Fill me in while you help me bring my stuff up."

Classes and club meetings resumed within the next couple of days, so it gave Annalise plenty of excuses to keep her texts to Shawn dismissive and short. She knew he was coming and going from campus for class too, but due to their different majors, he was going to be very far away from her. Not to mention, he didn't know where her new dorm was located, so it wasn't like he could track her down.

Except… Annalise had to retake biology. She knew Shawn was at the science building quite often, and she had hoped her bio lab fell on a day that he was at the fine arts building. But you know, life just happens, and sometimes you see your mans between classes. Sometimes you just see him leaving classroom, towering over the other students because he’s a giant. Maybe you’ll see him with a very short girl at his side, and they’re both laughing at something. Maybe he won’t see you either because he’s balls deep in banter with this random girl.

There was a lump in Annalise’s stomach following that minor event, and it made her anxious and uneasy for the first day of that class. Still, she was determined to stay on board with the separation they both agreed on. It was better that way for now. She didn't know about Shawn, but Annalise fully intended on keeping the distance, suspicious-looking friends be damned.

Anyway, she could find friends of her own too. Gaming club meetings started up again that Friday, and it was something to look forward to. After god knows how long, Annalise attended said meeting after receiving an email from the head of the club, Josh. He and his friend, Paul, ran the club most of the time. They managed to get plenty of people to sign up during the rush earlier in the week but only seven of them actually attended the first meeting. Just like every year.

Both Josh and Paul were scrawny blond boys with "nice guy" complexes. They were polite for the most part, given that they inducted Annalise into the club the moment she signed up. But they also quizzed her on just about every popular, mainstream video game there was once they realized she would actually be showing up to the meetings. It took time, and a bit of Annalise telling them off, but they were civil towards each other now.

"Annalise!" called Chad as the lady herself entered the classroom in the communications building. He was another member, and he had his two frat bros with him, Kyle and Jared, and they both chanted her name in their deep, manly voices.

All different heights, but same amount of insane muscle. For lack of better words, these guys were meatheads with good intentions. Chad was a student with one of the highest GPA on campus, practically competing with Josh. Kyle was the star student in his major, sports medicine. Jared was that guy who beat up bigots as a hobby. All three of them were fully dedicated to their fraternity, Sigma Chi.

Then there was Patrick, who nodded to Annalise as a greeting. She nodded back and took the empty seat next to him in the circle.

The people who think Annalise Flores is a complete hardcore goth have not met Patrick Markowski. This was a guy who was always decked out in leather, ripped jeans, and black eyeliner. He had a proper faux hawk, which is what made people notice him the most. He typically surrounded himself with other goths, unlike Annalise. He was truly dedicated to the lifestyle, while she deviated from even that sometimes. This was the only guy in the club Annalise was actually friends with.

Anyway, all seven of these nerds shared the same appreciation for video games, which brought them all together in a circle, in an empty classroom, in the communications building this evening. However, Annalise's entrance caused the guys to deviate from the main topic.

Josh and Paul had been staring at her with their mouths open the second she entered the room. The Frats were visibly excited and each gave her a high five. Patrick merely stayed quiet and smiled.

"Heard you almost fucking died!" Chad told her. "And you didn't tell a single one of us!"

"I thought you had actually died," Josh spoke up. "Since you never miss a meeting and all."

So that got around. Cool.

“I wasn’t dying,” Annalise said, rolling her eyes. “I just had part of my colon surgically removed.”

“No way…” Jared said in wonder.

“Oh, that’s disgusting,” said Paul with a gag. He brought the collar of his red Pizza Planet shirt over his mouth.

The Frats stared at Annalise in awe, almost impressed by her vague explanation. She really didn’t understand the fascination, given everything that happened during and after the hospital. Of course, they knew nothing about any of that. At the same time, Annalise was annoyed at Paul’s dramatic reaction, so she kept talking.

“It might happen to you too if you don’t take care of yourself and listen to your body,” she told him. “Or worse, you could end up with a bag of your poop attached to your belly.”

Paul gagged again, much louder this time. Then Annalise decided that that was enough and directed the conversation to the club’s main topic: video games.

“So who’s played Team Sonic Racing?”

It was only the first meeting, so the group made a plan to bring their Switches and play next time. The Nice Guys prompted to play a round of Fortnite online later, but Annalise was not up for that game in the slightest. Too mainstream. Too chaotic. She never could get into it.

“Well, we can play without you,” Paul suggested, “not everyone has to join in.”

“Isn’t that a rule, though?” Patrick asked pointedly. “If we’re gonna play something together, we all have to agree on one game. Besides, I don’t play Fortnite either.”

Paul's eyes darted around, trying to look for a counterargument, but he sighed. “Fine. Anyone else got any suggestions?”

“What about a D&D campaign?” Annalise said. “Or some type of board game?”

Josh scoffed. “It’s video game club. Besides, me and Paul already have a campaign with our other friends.”

“‘Course you do,” she mumbled, folding her arms.

“Ooo! I got an idea!” Kyle spoke up, raising his massive hand. “We should hit up Bart. That bar with the art and retro games?”

Annalise perked up. Finally, someone with a brain cell. “I participated in a Smash Bros tournament there. It’s really fun, we should all go one weekend.”

“A bar?” Josh said in distaste.

“Yeah! It’ll be a class field trip or something!” Chad agreed. “It’s awesome, bro! They got a Gamecube and an N64! Sometimes they do karaoke night, but only with songs from different games!”

Then, Kyle looked at Annalise with a smirk. “Bet your boyfriend would perform there, eh?”

Even when she was far away from him, Shawn still had a presence wherever she went. “Heh, maybe…”

Luckily, none of these guys were the type to hover. The subject went back to going to Bart one weekend, and then the group chat was revived to discuss further adventures. Once the meeting was adjourned, Patrick followed me out the door.

“So, Annie. No offense or anything,” he said, walking in step beside her as they walked down the corridor, “but what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“My summer was great, thanks,” Annalise said, too busy glancing at her phone to cringe at that awful nickname. No new messages for once.

“Nah, seriously. You were in the fucking hospital, and I find out through Snapchat?” he asked seriously. “Did you even tell anybody? What the hell happened?”

She didn’t remember posting anything about her hospital stay anywhere on social media. However, the only two people who were there with her were social media freaks. Stella was the type to tweet every single one of her brain farts, and frequently Snap where she was every second. Shawn was less active on his platforms, but he was still quite popular in the Toronto area, so he had a sizeable following. Annalise knew he took a picture of his hand holding hers while she was in the hospital at least once. Maybe it made it to his Instagram story a couple of times.

Sighing, Annalise gave Patrick the gist of her exciting adventure with her large intestine. Some underlying guilt wanted to be felt as she recalled staying and Shawn’s for so long, but she decided to spare those details.

“Looked death in the face, eh?” he said, nodding in what looked like approval. “Badass.”

She chuckled. “Guess I wasn’t ready to be yeeted off this mortal coil.”

“Ugh, you use the word yeet? How much has that guy changed you?” Patrick stuck his tongue out at her, flashing the piercing he had on the muscle.

“Hey, I’m more down with the kids than he is.”

The pair were quiet as they made it out to the courtyard. The night was chilly and cloudy, the only light coming from the lampposts on either side of the walkway. It felt different knowing Annalise was with only a friend rather than her mans, and she tried to ignore the ache in her chest and the urge to talk about him.

“Do you remember what it was like?” Patrick asked after a minute. “Being so close to death?”

“Nope,” she replied simply. “Although, when I was under, I had a really vivid dream that my… uh, Shawn cheated on me.” Way to not talk about him.

“You sure it was a dream?”

They were passing by one of the picnic tables, where Patrick pointed to. There was a group of people standing around the table, and two people sitting on top of it. One of those people was Shawn with his acoustic guitar. He was singing with the girl who was sitting next to him, the same one he was walking with at the science building. It wouldn’t have seemed weird if Patrick hadn’t said what he said. It would have been left alone if Annalise hadn’t thought about that stupid fever dream.

“Come on,” she said to Patrick as she stalked off towards the group.

“I was joking!” he said with a laugh.

Still, Annalise walked with a purpose and he followed her. She clutched the strap of her shoulder bag and kept her chin up as she made herself apart of the tiny audience. It was quite the sight, two nerds decked out in all black and heavy eyeliner amongst a group of normals watching two other normals sing a pop song. No lie, Annalise just wanted to get a look at this girl she had never seen before.

Olive skin. Black, curly hair. Very short next to her guy. Very pretty voice coming out of very pretty lips. She looked at Shawn and he looked back at her as they sang an eerily familiar song. Musically speaking, they seemed good together.

“I’ll leave you with the memory, and the aftertaste…”

The tiny audience clapped. Patrick was nodding in pleasant surprise, probably having never heard Shawn’s songs before. Annalise applauded as well, but she couldn’t help the narrowing of her eyes as she watched Shawn and this girl high five each other.

They were both comfortable with all the attention, it was easy to see. Shawn was beaming in a way that hadn’t been seen in a long time, and then he laid eyes on Annalise. He still had that smile on his face, even though it faltered a little bit. She kept her face neutral and quirked her eyebrows at him as a silent greeting.

“Should I leave you guys alone?” asked Patrick as he and Annalise watched Shawn get down from the table top.

“No,” she replied simply.

She almost regretted having him stay. He had to witness Shawn and Annalise attempt to figure out how to greet each other. A side hug would have been awkward for reasons not only having to do with the guitar strapped to his shoulder. She definitely couldn’t kiss him, because that would have started something she had been trying to distance herself from. They finally settled for a mildly uncomfortable handshake, and Shawn kept holding her hand as he spoke.

It had been almost a week since Ann moved out, and she only sent him one text in that time span. It was the black heart emoji. Better than nothing, but not better than seeing her in person.

“You haven’t answered my texts,” Shawn told her. If she was going to decide when she'll give him attention, then he wasn't going to beat around the bush when he saw her.

“I’ve been busy,” Ann replied, feebly attempting to shake her hand away.

Shawn nodded, but he wasn't thoroughly convinced. Between work and school, Ann was a hermit. Or so he thought, given that she now had this new goth dude at her side. “So, who’s your friend?”

“Who’s yours?” she quickly said back.

“I’m Patrick!” said Patrick, holding out his hand. “Annie and I go way back!”

Shawn let go of her hand to shake his. “Nice to meet you, brother. Wait… Annie?” He chuckled.

Her cheeks heated up, and she decided to move her eyes somewhere else, specifically on Shawn’s unnamed singing partner. She was chatting with some of the other people still around the table. Annalise noticed she talked with her hands a lot.

“She lets me call her that even though she hates it,” Patrick said, snapping her back into the moment. “Right, Annie?”

“Do not,” she warned. Then she looked at Shawn. “So who’s the chick you’re singing with?”

Shawn took in an almost reluctant deep breath as he turned and called the girl over. If there was anything he had yet to discover, it had to be if his girl was the jealous type.

Annalise's dark brown eyes narrowed once again while he wasn’t looking. Call it anxiety or paranoia, but she was oddly suspicious. Patrick caught the glare though, and he nudged her arm to snap her out of it.

“Ann, Patrick, this is Alessia,” Shawn said when the very short girl joined them. “She’s a first year. Alessia, this is my…” He elongated the vowel. “Annalise. And her friend Patrick.”

Okay, so… a sinking feeling in the tummy. That’s what that felt like. Couldn’t be mad, though. Annalise wasn’t so quick to use the boyfriend word these days.

“You’re Annalise!” Alessia said in pleasant surprise. She did not hesitate to hug her, arms going around her shoulders and practically pulling her down to her level. “It’s so nice to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you!”

Honestly, Annalise was just glad she didn’t call her the goth girlfriend. Or the goth anything, for that matter. She didn’t hug Patrick, though, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“So, how did you two meet?” Annalise prompted. So maybe she was a little more than curious to know how and when Shawn found the time to get another girl at his side.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Shawn replied a little too quickly.

His eyes bored into hers, throwing them into a staredown. He broke through the fake, polite smile Ann had on. Of course he broke it. He was the only one who could. However, Shawn couldn't read the expression she had on. He couldn't tell if she was upset or not, happy or not… He couldn't tell if she wanted to change her mind about this separation or not… Ten months together and Ann was still a mystery.

“Uh, Shawn and I have like, every class together,” Alessia said slowly, looking between the couple, noticing the sudden change in atmosphere. She scratched the back of her head.

“Annie and I have been in the same club for two years,” Patrick added in the same tone. He too noticed the tension.

“Oh, which club? There’s some I’ve been checking out…”

Those two kept up the conversation. Shawn’s gaze on Annalise made her throat close up. He wasn’t smiling or feigning politeness anymore. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were hard and glossed over. Inexplicable guilt began to form in her chest yet again. She knew he didn’t understand.

_______

taglist: @normalcyisoverrated-beyou @ilsolee @mendesromano @1-800-khalid-mendussy @kitykatnumber @strangerliaa @iloveshawnieboi @poppyshawn @shawnsunflower @shawnvvmendes @yourdelightfullyleft @shawmndes @havethetimeeofyourlifee @calyumthomas

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes smut #shawn x goth gf #this is the Start of some stupid ass fuckery #aka the Sequel #shoutout to the shawns hoes gc for letting me tag some of yall #and yes this fic will be in 3rd pov #we haven't heard enough of Shawn's thots n feelios lu #and i guess how u know its in shawns pov is when Ann is used instead of annalise #if u read the tags i appreciate u

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conseille · 5 years ago

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one shot - natsuya .

unlike the usual chimes of her old samsung to stir her gently from slumber, it’s the nudge of a passing elbow that rouses yerin at last -- jolting her shoulder, jolting her sleep. she blinks with a start to wake up in a new environment, visage greeted by not the routine bedroom ceiling but a futuristic glow of blues & purples, a humming engine, an airplane cabin.

the mini tv before her is still rolling its plucky hero movie in lights too bright as the floor purrs beneath her feet, all reminders of a space in perpetual motion. but more than the whir & babel of the world around her, she’s acutely aware of the weight at her lap -- and the warmth. there’s a lump of pillows piled high against her, crowned ultimately by an unruly spray of chestnut; natsuya sleeps soundly at his bed of bundles & blankets. by now, the midnight spell had cast its peaceful pall about the flight, and families huddle together in aisles, lovers seek comfy crooks in each other’s soft frames.

and they’re no different, sunk comfortably, breath to skin, clinging to each other’s coze.

just hours ago, they had darted onto the plane with fingers laced in hot fluster, nearly missing their flight -- though not for lack of trying. while they had entered the aisles as the epitome of careless youngsters, late & inconsiderate, their reality had been tardiness borne from hearts too tender. three grumpy children had done their best to delay them, and the two had given in for a few more hours of play. yet youth was no match for a red-eye flight in the end; protests waned with yawns & weaker tugs as sleep slowly became more enticing than having natsuya and yerin stay. the duo then arrived at their terminal, late but inculpable.

with their schedules adapted for late restaurant closing hours ( for whims of rowdy children, for last minute store runs when they think they deserve an extra treat ), they had managed to spend a little more time together before drifting to sleep. they had watched a movie, stolen extra cups of ice cream, struggled at playing tetris on a confusing remote - controller.

after weeks of living together & still never having their fill, they had become skilled in stretching the day; their sleepiness had learned to keep at gracious bay for greed of each other’s touch, each other’s smile.

but somewhere they too had relented to the fatigue of the hour, and now she feels a little lonely to be the only one awake. with a whisper-touch, she combs his bangs aside, smiling when they brush across his eyelids and he turns slightly, maybe sensing the itch. he’s cute when he sleeps, although this is no news. but it’s different to see him snug in their tiny row, with colors flashing across the screen & lamping his cheek in red, in violet. and she thinks of turning off the monitor to shield his eyes from the light, but hesitates to move ( hesitates to lose the glow of him, too ).

even now, she can make out the dark feather of his eyelashes against his skin, beauty in every bit of him. her fingers can’t help but to keep twined at his fringe, tidying the perfectly untidyable. and she’s happy -- beyond ecstatic -- to finally be traveling with him, but . . . she knows she would be happy wherever, whenever, so long as he’s there by her side.

. . . just once, her gaze falters from the platonic, falling to the press of his lips against the dimple of the lucky pillow. a blue ( then pink ) shadow dips beneath the full bud of them, and her fingers prickle to know . . . but she quickly takes the corner of his blanket instead ( distracts the electricity beneath peccant fingertips ) and tucks him in firmer, tucks her heart in its sheath.

// @yoginai

#( THIS IS SO FUCKING LONG i'm gone but like... )#( i struggled so long with this because the order was out of whack and it was stumping me )#( now it is complete . . a mostly Sweet one shot )#( and i'm now i'm inculpable too ~ )#yoginai #( i think this is the longest one shot / response kind of thing i've done on this blog i'm gone )#( it's because i had to set the ~Scene~ and also i felt the need to mention the children LMAO )#❀ .❜ ⋮ the garden interlude before glass slippers

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almostrealdudes · 6 years ago

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Tempest (Stefan Butler x fem!S/O)

pairing: Stefan Butler x fem!s/o

warnings: none

word count: 1k (edit: did i write ‘none’? honestly I have no explanations)

summary: just some Stefan fluff for your souls my dudes

(gif not mine)

“Tetris.”

“Super Mario Bros.”

“Street Fighter.”

“Rocky’s Boots.”

“Space Quest.”

“Track and Field.”

“Donkey Kong.”

“Gauntlet.”

“The Prisoner.”

“No, you can’t use the articles as letters.”

“But it has it in the title!”

“Still, it’s not the actual name.”

“That’s not fair, you’re already superior to me, I have no chance of winning if you keep throwing me back like that!”

“Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

“Stefan!”

It smells like oranges and rain in his room. It’s dimly lit, the sounds of fingers pressing keys and raindrops hitting the window mix together into one calming rhythm. This is the third game we play today and I can’t win Stefan for the death of me. He’s just too good, I often wonder if there is something video-game related that he doesn’t know. Haven’t found an answer to that one yet.

“C’mon, you can name more,” he looks over his shoulder and gives me a small smile. The bed screeches underneath me as I move to its edge.

“I already named mine, it’s your turn!” I can see Stefan battling with my begging eyes right now because he turns away knowing that if he keeps looking at me he will let me have it.

“Sorry, Buttercup, you gonna have to think of another one.”

I whined and started bouncing on the mattress out of indignation.

“Stefan,” I stretched the vowels in his name, trying to draw his attention. Stefan was holding back a smile, continuing to enter the codes that appeared one after another on his screen. After entering another line, he looked at me softly.

“You know this one.”

He started forming the letter ‘T’ with his mouth, his eyes urging me to continue after him. I mirrored him but since I had no idea what he was talking about I just sat there nodding with an endless ‘T’ stuck on my lips.

“TRON,” Stefan finished for me and smirked as I rolled my eyes.

“Okay, fine, you’re super-clever. Your turn.”

“What? No, you didn’t say your game, it’s still your turn.”

“Stop being so cruel to me!” I moaned. “You spin in all this game trivia constantly, of course you know more games than me, you’re a genius.”

“No, I’m not, I’m just a quicker thinker.” He chuckled shyly, flattered by my phrasing. He knows I mean it. He keeps waving me off every time, but I know that it means something to him. Well, I hope it does.

“I hate you,” groaning, I roll my eyes at him, “remind me to never play this game with you again.”

“You love me,” Stefan jokes, not even looking at me. Yet, for some reason, I freeze in my place and fix my gaze on him. We’ve never exchanged any big phrases like that. We care for each other, of course, we do. We’ve been together for over a year now, I visit the Butlers’ house so often that it probably looks like I already live here. I even think that Stefan’s dad sees me more than he sees Stefan because I always walk around the house doing something. I notice all the small things: how Stefan relaxes every time he sees me, how Stefan’s dad looks at me, gratitude in his eyes. I feel the affection and care every living second with Stefan, but I don’t think he knows how much he means to me. I don’t think I ever show him enough.

I jump out of my thoughts to find Stefan’s eyes looking at me with worry. Uh-oh, I was silent for too long. Before I can say anything, he starts stuttering.

“I—um—sorry, I didn’t—I didn’t mean to—um—to strain you like that, just forget what I—“

“I do,” I interrupt him, dead serious. He looks at me startled. “I love you, Stefan. I love you.”

Suddenly, I feel so sad, almost heartbroken. A lump starts growing in my throat as I begin to repeat my confession over and over until tears start running down my face. Stefan’s flirtatious joke uncorked all the feelings I had for him, making them spill out chaotically.

Stefan jumped out of his chair and rushed over to me in panic, cupping my face hastily and looking in my eyes, searching for a reason for my sudden outbreak.

“No-no-no, don’t cry, please, anything but cry, you can’t cry,” tear after tear, he wipes them away, but they just keep dropping off my lashes. “Why are you even crying?”

“I don’t know.” Realizing how stupid this whole situation is I suddenly start laughing. I laugh so hard I start wheezing. Stefan looks at me in absolute terror; he doesn’t know what to do. Second ago, I was crying rivers, and now I was laughing as if I heard the most hilarious thing in the world.

“You’re worrying me,” he confessed, still looking at me in confusion. I shook my head and kissed him hard, sending all of my emotion through my lips to his.

“I just love you, Stefan.”

He looked at me in utter happiness and pulled into a tight hug. I felt his nose nuzzling in my neck. His soft breaths tickled my skin.

“I love you too. More than anything.” He pressed me even closer to his chest. “You mean so much to me. So much.”

“You mean to me more,” I moved away and squeezed his pink freckled cheeks together. Suddenly, a revelation hits me and I squeak. “Tempest!”

“What?” He raised his brows confused.

“The game!”

He laughed, relieved it wasn’t bad news and pecked my nose. His eyes shined in the yellow light of the table lamp. I smiled and sniffed, satisfied with my answer.

“See? I told you, you knew this one.”

#bandersnatch #black mirror #stefan butler #stefan butler x reader #colin ritman #colin ritman x reader

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killianmesmalls · 6 years ago

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SQUEAKING this in for KnightRook Secret Santa for my super, super secret giftee @leiandcharles! A Christmas meets New Year’s fic for you!!

“You know, in most of the world it’s already next year,” Tilly started suddenly.

Rogers chuckled as she carefully drew in the sketchpad he’d gifted her days earlier. For years he’d worked over the holidays, pulling long hours Christmas straight through to New Year’s Day to allow other officers the chance to spend time with their families. Often he’d kept the company of a radio playing on low, the DJs commenting every now and then about the joys of the holidays before another call came into the station.

He’d welcomed the calls then more than the commentary. At least the calls distracted him from his loneliness. On those days, the desperation for just one more drink pulled at him more than normal.

This year was different—he’d taken the holidays off. Well, more was forced to by Weaver rather than having requested them. His partner insisted that it would do him and Tilly some good to enjoy the season. Though the man didn’t outright say it, Rogers could practically hear it blaring with the looks he was given: now that you both have someone to share it with.

The scraping of pencil to paper provided a white noise to his thoughts. Someone to share it with. Rogers smiled to himself, grateful his back was to Tilly as he started on a late snack for the two of them. She was sitting on one of his bar stools in an oversized shirt he’d lent her as a pajama top and a pair of leggings she’d received from Goodwill, making broad strokes over the paper as he debated on how many vegetables to sneak into their meal.

Strange to think how worried he’d been in the days leading up to Christmas, practically breaking out in a cold sweat as he debated on how much or how little to do, what to get, what to not get, whether anything was appropriate at all.

His worries had been pushed aside Christmas morning when his whirlwind of a roommate laid eyes on the few modest gifts perfectly organized under a two-foot tree settled on the coffee table.

“Well,” he said, shaking away the warm memory, “since we’re still firmly in the last day of this year, what would you like to do to give it a send off?”

“Dunno,” she replied, looking up. “Haven’t quite figured this year out yet. Can’t remember another one like it, really.”

Neither can I.

“Hopefully it’s at least ending on a good note.”

Tilly beamed, cheeks flushing. “The best.”

Rogers cleared his throat and went back to his task, willing away the pleased look he felt pulling at the corners of his mouth and the crinkles around his eyes. The best. Damn it all, the day could end now and he’d still feel the same. Well, not yet. There was still one little thing that had to be done. Or, rather, given.

“You know, there’s no reason we can’t get out of the house.”

“You? Go out? For New Year’s? For fun? Detective, are you feeling alright?”

“Ha ha,” he retorted, rolling his eyes. “Funny. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying we go out to some nightclub where they have a forty dollar cover charge or somewhere with a mediocre prix fixe menu—”

“Ah, there’s Rogers, I was worried we lost him for a moment.”

“Funny, Til.” The nickname rolled off too quick to catch. He chanced a glance at her, resolving to shove past the awkwardness when he caught a fond glint in her usually mischievous eyes. Damn it, something about it reminded him of someone… “I was just thinking that maybe it would do us both some good to get some fresh air. Maybe see the fireworks if we can find a place that’s—”

“Secluded from drunk crowds?”

“I was going to say quiet, but essentially yes. If you don’t want to, though…”

Tilly hopped from her barstool and half-skipped toward her room. “You had me at ‘fireworks’. I’ll be ready fast, quick as a bunny.”

There were perks to being a police officer. Knowing where to go and which buildings had rooftop access. Rogers had come to know the center of Seattle like the back of his hand, and his years serving through the insanity of New Year’s Eve had given him a unique understanding of where was close to the action but away from stumbling twenty-somethings in gold glittering party hats.

While Tilly had been busy getting ready, he’d put a couple of camping chairs he’d never had the chance to use and some refreshments into the trunk of his SS Chevelle, finishing the Tetris-ed pile off with one last belated Christmas gift. He’d even allowed a smug, self-satisfied smirk to grace his lips before his roommate bounced out to join him.

“Ready to say goodbye to this year?”

“More ready to say hello to the next one, I think,” he replied.

The drive was filled with the mixing of Tilly flipping through cassettes he kept in his glove box and her chattering about everything from books she was reading to the unbelievable things she had witnessed while people watching. Though he could have gone the rest of his life without knowing Mr. Harris the florist had a habit of speaking seductively to the bushes outside his store, the noise was a welcome reminder that this year was different.

He drove to an old retail building that had been part of his route for years. Back when he’d first started, he’d learned the various security codes and, he was ashamed to admit, had used the roof as a place to drink in seclusion. No time like New Year’s to give it a better purpose.

Piling everything he could into his arms until Tilly insisted she grab her fair share, Rogers led them up the the freight elevator then up the final flight of stairs to the roof. Seeing it now with sober eyes, he could see now how perfect a view it was with all of Seattle twinkling below.

“I’ve never been up this high before!”

He chuckled at the excitement in her voice as they unfolded the chairs and he took out a bottle of sparkling apple juice and paper cups. “Just please don’t try to jump off this one onto anywhere.”

“Yeah, I don’t fancy starting the year off as a pancake.”

“Glad we’re on the same page with that.”

Any quip she may have had caught in her throat as the hum of the city began to change. He glanced down at his phone in time to spot 11:58.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Ready,” she said, grinning like a cheshire cat.

He counted down at first in his head as the seconds on is phone ticked down. Then, he could hear the hum change to a unified voice, fuzzy from distance as tens of thousands of people began to count down to midnight. As they rose higher and higher, memories of the past year began to rush through his mind like a flipbook, the highs and lows mixing together until they settled on the moment that had mattered to him the most.

10. 9. 8.

How about you come stay with me for a while?

7. 6. 5.

I’d like that. Very much.

4. 3. 2.

Come on, then. Let’s go home.

He looked next to him to see Tilly’s wide-eyed, beaming face as the clock struck midnight and an indescribable feeling surged through him. It wasn’t finding Eloise or being promoted or anything else that had stuck to him in those last seconds of the year, but offering a home to the wild, mischievous young woman sitting next to him, taking in the revelry below.

The pop of the first fireworks sent a shock through him, and together they watched them dance and light up the sky. A new year, this one with friends and something that could maybe, possibly, almost, one day be considered something like family.

His hand landed again on the gift in his pocket, playing with the corners of the wrapping paper with each explosion of light and color. At long last, the crackles and pops died away, leaving behind clouds of smoke and a dizzying feeling of newness and second chance.

“There’s one more gift I didn’t have the chance to give you yet for Christmas,” he started, pulling it out and handing it to her.

At first she simply sat there, stunned, focus darting between the cloudy remnants of the fireworks and the small package in her hands. “Detective, you didn’t have to. I mean, you’ve done enough. More than enough. Really—”

“One more thing couldn’t hurt. Besides, I think you could really use this. At least, I hope you can.”

She grinned and gave a little nod before she turned her attention to the gift like a cat laying its eyes on a ball of yarn. As she had done on Christmas, she tore into the paper with the feverishness of a child. When the last bit of tape was stripped away, a set of keys fell into her lap, earning a quizzical look.

“Ummm…” Tilly’s face journeyed from confusion to panic to sadness concealed with humor. “Did you get me a better lock on the boxcar door?”

Bloody hell. Of course she’d think something like that.

Rogers quickly shook his head, hoping she could see his insistence in the city lights, all the more dim now without the sparkling of fireworks. “It’s a set of my apartment keys. I asked my landlord to get a new one for the front door, and the others are to the front door and mailbox. Just, well, it seemed like it was time for the place to feel like home to you, not just a place you were ‘crashing’ in, so to speak. I… well, I… I mean, if you want…”

He scratched the back of his ear, thinking and overthinking then analyzing his thoughts once again, when he felt a gentle hand rest on his left forearm. His eyes darted up, locking with hers that were glittering with emotion as her free hand toyed with the keys.

“Thank you. Really. Thank you so much.”

For a moment Rogers felt a lump settle in his throat then settle slowly into his chest, preventing him from speaking. Instead, he grabbed their paper cups and poured the sparkling juice, handing her one and keeping one for himself.

“Happy New Year, Tilly.”

#knightrook #knightrook ff #krss #knightrook secret santa #alice jones #killian jones #tilly and rogers being tilly and rogers

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deathnotetruths · 7 years ago

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Finite

Fandom: Death Note Pairing: Matt/Mello Warning: Graphic descriptions of violence; swearing

Summary: When Matt stumbles upon Mello's mafia contacts, things take a violent turn. Is this really the same Mello who once laughed so clearly? With threats upon his life, Matt must navigate a very thin line between trust and deceit in order to save them both.

Chapter 1: Bite The Curb

“Bite the fucking curb.”

Oh fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck. Jesus fuck.

“Don’t fuck with me! Get your fucking head down!”

Matt felt himself shoved roughly forward, his knees scraping the concrete and gravel of the road. The lamplight buzzed and flickered. His knees felt wet; he couldn’t decide if it was blood or drainage from the street. He didn’t care. The scent of asphalt and earth filled his nose.

“Open your fucking mouth, you stupid little bitch.”

Matt couldn’t even pretend to be brave. His heart felt like it would explode. He stared at the curbside, the concrete and graffiti blurring with unshed tears.

“Bite. The. Fucking. Curb.”

He felt a hand in his hair, shoving his face down. A calloused thumb dug itself into his jaw, forcing his mouth open. He quickly found himself sucking concrete, breathing frantically through his open mouth. Gravel dug into his knees, and dirt filled his mouth.

Fuck, this was going to hurt.

Not just hurt - it would be agony. It would be worse than the time he was shot in the shoulder. Worse than the busted knee from his motorbike. This would kill him, if he was lucky, and it would hurt every single moment until his body finally gave out.

Oh fuck. Oh god, oh fuck, oh shit.

“Better say your prayers,” a voice spat. Matt cringed when he felt a thick string of slobber running down the side of his face. “Go ahead and cry, little bitch.”

Matt did. He felt tears pouring down his face. His jaw ached from the awkward position, and his mouth felt dry as stone. His mind replayed over and over all the horrible scenarios that could play out; his jaw shattering, his skin ripping, his tongue falling down his own throat. He imagined in agonizing detail how horrible the next few minutes would be.

This was not how he imagined his death. Not even close. He had hoped to die doing something cool; maybe a flaming bike wreck, or a massive shootout, or doing something heroic. He never once guessed that his death would occur while kneeling in the street, sobbing like a child, with his head kicked in by a pair of Doc Martins.

“This will teach you to spy on people who are stronger than you!”

“Hold the fuck up,” a voice called. “Sit down before you hurt yourself, Santiago. For fuck’s sake.”

Matt felt himself blacking out; he clung to consciousness by a thread. He felt rough hands in his hair, jerking him up to his knees. A light shone in his face. He squinted, slowly feeling the blood rush back into his head.

“Did any of you brain-dead fuckwads think for a moment that we could possibly use this guy?”

A chorus of murmurs signaled the negative.

“Didn’t think so. Listen, if he’s good enough to get intel on our affairs, what the fuck do you think he could do to the 14th Street? Or Las Llaves? Fuck, we could spy on the whole god-damned coast if we use him. And you were about to send him packing to the Pearly Gates? Fucking idiots.”

Matt felt cold leather wrapping itself beneath his chin. He squinted hard against the light, looking up into the face of someone oddly familiar. The voice wasn’t right, but the face…

It was as if he were dreaming. There’s no way…

WHAM!

Matt felt his face explode with pain. Fuck, this guy could throw a mean punch. Matt opened his mouth to try and defend himself, only to be greeted with another heavy punch to the face. That cool leather glove tangled itself deep into his hair and held his face still while the man’s other hand cracked against his face over and over. Matt felt his cheeks swell; his lip split, his eyes both blackened, and his nose was almost certainly broken.

There’s no way. No way. He wouldn’t ever-

“Mel-?” Matt tried to gasp, but before he could finish his question, the blonde cracked his head against the street light. Matt felt himself float off into darkness.

“You’re awake. Good.”

Matt groaned, trying to open his eyes. It was that voice again - the one that sounded so wrong, yet so familiar.

“I wouldn’t bother, if I were you. You’ve been out for two days, but the swelling still hasn’t gone down. I didn’t detach your retina, though, so that’s a plus!”

How could this guy be so fucking cheerful over something like that?

Matt heard the sound of swishing leather, then felt a weight on the end of his bed. Bed? Yes, he was definitely lying on something softer than concrete… but perhaps “bed” was not the right word. A thin mattress on a slab; that’s the only comfort Matt had. From the sound of their voices, he determined that the room was padded with some sort of sound-proofing. Every echo was immediately absorbed; Matt couldn’t tell how big the room was, nor what was in it.

“We’re fine to talk while we’re in here,” the other man said. “Nobody else can hear us. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Matt made a grunting noise; his tongue felt too swollen to form proper words.

“I don’t apologize for anything,” the man continued, “but it’s unfortunate that you recognized me. I really didn’t want to have to do that much to you. But if they knew that we’re familiar, it would not end well.”

Familiar? No way. It wasn’t a dream or a hopeless hallucination…

“Mello?” Matt choked out, tasting blood in the back of his mouth.

“Shut up before you hurt yourself. Yeah, Matt. Who the fuck else would it be?”

“You’re alive,” Matt coughed. Everything hurt. His face, his ribs, his head… Every ounce of him throbbed with pain. But Mello was alive. He had developed an American accent, and his pitch was much lower, but the underlying notes and rhythms in his voice were most certainly Mello’s.

“God, don’t you listen? Quit talking. Let me do the talking.” The surly blonde swatted Matt on the arm, making the redhead cringe in pain. “Look. You’re up shit creek, my friend. I don’t know exactly how you did it, but you somehow found out way more about us than you should have.”

Matt tried to shrug, but his shoulder refused to cooperate.

“You were ten seconds from St. Peter, mate,” Mello continued. “You’re fucking lucky that I happened to be there. And that I recognized you. Right now, I’ve got them convinced that I want you for your skills. You’d better be fucking willing and able to deliver, Matt. If you don’t, you’re a dead man. Period. I can’t compromise my position, and we can’t keep dead weight. Do you understand?”

Matt tried to nod, but the room was spinning. He was still stuck on the fact that Mello was alive.

“It’s stupid to talk when you’re in this state…” Mello grumbled. “Rest up. I’ll have someone bring in food and water later. Technically, you’re a prisoner for now. The door is bolted, and the room is soundproof. We typically use this room for recovery after an interrogation, but you’re one of the lucky few who gets to stay here with all your fingers and toes still attached. Consider it a blessing.”

Mello stood and paced the room for a moment, the distinct sound of a chocolate bar wrapper rustling between his fingers.

“Listen, man. I don’t know how the next few weeks will play out. This is a dangerous fucking game that you roped us both into. Frankly, it might have been kinder to you if I had just let you die on the street…” Mello trailed off, snapping into the chocolate bar. “But for whatever reason, I didn’t. So now you’re playing to keep us both alive, you got it? You don’t know me. You call me ‘Sir’ or ‘Boss.’ You keep your head down, your mouth shut, and you do what you’re told. And you’d better do it damn well, or I can’t guarantee your safety.”

Matt could sense Mello hesitating. Years of watching the blonde pace around their bedroom at the orphanage caused Matt to be very attuned to Mello’s habits.

“...Don’t hold it against me if I have to beat you, Matt.” Mello said quietly. “It’s nothing personal. It’s just how things work around here.”

Matt swallowed the lump in his throat. Judging by the pain and swelling in his face, he knew Mello could deliver one hell of a punch. He prayed it wouldn’t come to that again.

“‘Kay,” Matt mumbled.

“I should go. I have a lot to coordinate. There’s this raid… You’ll hear about it when you’ve recovered. Get some rest, and remember what we discussed. I’m counting on you, Matt.”

Without another word, Mello left the room. The sound of the heavy steel door locking felt deafening to Matt. The silence in the room was amplified; the soundproofing prevented any noises from the outside world from reaching Matt’s ears. He could imagine men going crazy on this mattress.

Despite the throbbing in his lips and cheeks, Matt forced himself to hum a tune - the repetitive, melodic music from Tetris - as he played imaginary games of Tetris in his mind’s eye. Meanwhile, in the back of his mind, he began to plan ahead for the next few weeks. He imagined scenario after scenario, carefully crafting what to say and how to say everything for any situation he might come across. More than anything, he practiced over and over to never call Mello by name.

#KJDN #KJ Fanfic #KJ Fanfiction #Death Note #Death Note Fanfiction #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Matt/Mello #Mattello #MellodraMattic #Matt #Mail Jeevas #Mello #Mihael Keehl

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hellswriting-blog · 7 years ago

Text

Happy Birthday

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Tags: Fluff, slight angst idk

Word coundt: 2.4k

(A/N: This is just a really small drabble, please don’t judge me lmao. I hope you can enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing this little thing)

Sweaty and exhausted you flopped down on your back onto the bed. Hoseok followed you, heaving just as tired as you. “Fuck, that was great”, he exclaimed as he looked to the side to meet your eyes with his. A cheeky grin on your face you responded, “We’re not done yet though. At least one more round, okay?” Surprise flashed through his eyes before they turned determined, “Sure, it seems you don’t know when to admit defeat.”, he smiled one of his signature soft Hobi smiles, “I will simply beat your ass again and again. I don’t mind though.” ‘Not this time’, you thought but you didn’t say it out loud. For the tenth time today you reached out for the controller and flipped through the songs on the screen, the ‘Just dance’ theme song playing in the back. You were sure you had given him the best gift today by presenting him with the game, what you didn’t take into account was that he would want to battle you all day. Both of you could become pretty competitive and played song after song. He, as the main dancer of BTS and a trained professional had a clear advantage but you didn’t let that discourage you. Just one song, you just wanted to beat him one fucking time. You tried everything, sexy songs, children songs and just energetic, fitness ones, but he seemed to master everything in no time. That’s when you saw it. It was so stupid, it was your best shot. The Tetris song. “Okay, last one! I promise.” And luck was on your side this time. While you picked the red character, he chose orange. As the dance progressed it became evident that it was basically impossible to do it without the recommended amount of people which was four. While orange had to be lifted up you and carried around, just had to tap a few steps to the side and back. You had lured him into the perfect trap. After the song ended both of you collapsed to the floor. FINALLY. The scores on the screen said 10031 to 9897. You did it! Hobi rolled onto his side and started poking your stomach furiously, “You planned this! You’re evil.” While laughing crazily you tried to defend yourself, “I didn’t plan for you to take the orange dude! You did this all to yourself.” You struggled to hold onto his wrists to stop him from torturing you but that last dance had drained you of all your energy. In a final attempt to overpower Hoseok, you rolled onto his stomach, pinning him down. “How can you not let me enjoy my only win? You’re just rude and salty, Jung Hoseok.” You flashed him a victorious grin to which he responded with a smirk. God, he was the most beautiful human being you had ever seen. You were so proud of your best friend. Just a few years ago he had been extremely insecure about his looks and so critical about himself. He was still a perfectionist now but the confidence boosts his fans had given him over the last years had made him even more attractive in your eyes. You would never tell him that though. Since he would never stop to tease you if you did. Caught up in your thoughts, you didn’t notice that you had let down your guard and he saw his chance in rolling you around and now being the one holding you down. Your eyes wandered up to his face, his hair fell in sweaty strands into his face. Fuck, this boy was doing things to your heart and you would never be able to tell him. For so long the both of you had been inseparable and you didn’t want to sacrifice all of these years worth of friendship just because you had a strange attraction to him. If others could control their sexual desires, so could you. If only it was just that kind of attraction. But no, you heart had to race maniacally every time he locked eyes with yours and every playful teasing from his side had your stomach flip. To you it seemed like every day your love for him grew and grew. As if he was the sunshine falling onto your flower’s petals, your love was nourished by being around him and when he wasn’t you were left craving his presence every second of the day. Now that his face was only centimetres away from yours you wished to be hit by a meteor. At least it would’ve been less painful than fighting against your desire to press your lips passionately against his. As you didn’t give him any resistance he rolled back off of you. The loss of contact of his body against yours, tugged painfully at your heartstrings. You sat up and leaned your back against the side of your bed and he followed your example. “You know what, Y/N?”, he began. “No, actually I don’t.”, you grinned at him and he rolled his eyes but with a little smile playing on his lips. “This was probably one of the best birthday gifts ever.” At his words you felt a blissful warmth spread through your body. Nothing could make you happier than seeing him at ease and happy. “I’m glad you’re having fun… I do have fun as well, don’t get me wrong.” A taunting grin played on his face, “I can only imagine how hard it must be for you. I mean losing all the time sounds pretty frustrating to me.” That was enough. You tackled him down with your whole body. “I can’t believe how fucking cocky you have become.” While tickling him furiously you ranted on, “You seriously have lost all your manners, you little shit.” An intense fight over dominance erupted between you two once again. Damn, how did he always manage to turn the tables around so fast? Again he ended up straddling you to the ground. His weight on top of you had you struggling to breathe. Then out of the momentum of your fight you pushed his legs away from underneath him and his face came crushing down onto yours. Before any of you could process what was happening his lips clashed onto yours.Your eyes widened in shock. If this would ever be happening, this was not how you had imagined it. You stared into each others eyes in embarrassment and awkwardness. If you remembered correctly, you could even feel a little rip on your lip burn where his teeth had encountered your soft flesh. Hastily he retreated back onto the floor next to you. Slowly and engulfed in your circling thoughts you raised your hand to your lips. You could feel where it started bruising and could taste the faint but distinguishable taste of blood. Unable to process what had happened you just stared at him. “Ehm, you alright?”, he started hesitantly. You tried to cover up the hurricane of emotions you were going through inside and joked around about how he had defaced you for life now and you would probably have to life with an unpretty scar. Then you excused yourself to the bathroom. You needed some time out from all of this. When you had recollected the pieces of your heart a little you returned to your bedroom where Hobi was facing the window, his back turned to you. You felt the sudden urge to wrap your arms around him from behind. All you wanted to do was bury your face between his shoulder blades, feel his warmth and smell his body scent that was oh-so familiar. Not moving a millimetre you used all your self-control not to do exactly that. He must’ve felt your presence in the room since he turned around with a cocked up brow, looking at you questioningly. You simply shot him as smile and got your body back into motion when his words let you stop dead in your tracks, “We have to talk, Y/N.” Every composure you had slipped form your face in that second. His tone was dead serious and the look in his eyes didn’t leave any doubt that there was something bad going on here. You swallowed in an attempt to regain your calmness. Had he noticed you behaving weirdly? Was this the moment he would tell you that he had known of your crush on him and he couldn’t continue like this any more? Would this be the end? You couldn’t stop a lump forming in your throat. “S…sure. You want to sit down?” You gestured vaguely towards the couch that stood next to your bed. Hobi and you had always been able to talk about most things openly and never had you felt awkward or scared around him. Now you felt the entire opposite. Pure anxiousness pumped through your veins as you sat down on opposite ends, facing each other. Both of you brooded in silence a for a while before he finally spoke up first. “I just, I can’t do this any more. I have to be honest with you.” You couldn’t muster up the courage to look up into his eyes. The fun, energetic atmosphere from not too long ago had absolutely dispersed. Instead the air around you was thick with fear and made it hard for you to breathe. Never before had you been so convinced that something bad was about to happen. He waited for you to answer but you truly couldn’t get yourself to. After clearing his throat roughly he continued again, “I don’t really know how to start this… I don’t know if you noticed but our friendship, it’s not what it used to be. At least that’s what I feel like.” You felt your heart throb and fall and shatter. This conversation was exactly about what you had feared. You could feel pain pierce through your body and as you looked down you noticed that you were digging your fingernails deeply into the back of your hand. You hadn’t even realised you were doing that. Nonetheless, the pain couldn’t even compare to what you felt in your chest. A sigh left Hoseok and pleadingly he continued, “Can you look at me? Please?” Why was he torturing you like this? You could feel hot tears welling up in your eyes and you really didn’t want him to see but when he waited again for a reaction from you, you had to look up and face him. The way his brows were furrowed in concern and the corners of his lips curled in a frown, were another painful pull on your heart. You couldn’t remember a single time he had look so sad and grim. “Fuck, I’m sorry to bring this up but I am sure you have noticed, too, and I couldn’t leave this unspoken any more.” He nudged closer to you on the couch and reached to hold your hand between his. “I’m sorry, I’m really just so sorry. I can’t control my feelings, not after holding on for so long.” His grip tightened and he looked deeply into your watery eyes. “I know it is one sided and I don’t want to destroy what we have. But I can’t live any other second without telling you that you are the only person who can make me this happy. There is no one… No, I can’t even imagine anyone else, I would want to spend the rest of my life with. Please, don’t hate me for feeling this way. Please. I just… I can’t…” His voice was caught in his throat and he couldn’t continue, he just stared intently with his brows crunched together apologetically. Your jaw dropped in pure surprise. What? Did he just say? What. You couldn’t grasp any of your thoughts so you simply stammered, “You… do… what? I am… what?” Now it was his turn to look at you confused. “I mean, you probably do hate me now? That’s okay. I just couldn’t continue without telling you my feelings. I… I love you, Y/N.” You searched for a spark of a joke in his expression. He was just pulling a prank on you, right? But you were met with sincere honesty. As if the ice berg you had buried your heart under to save it, slowly melted away, you felt the purest warmth spread through your chest. Your shocked expression turned into a smile and you looked at Hobi as if he was god who had ascended to earth. To you it felt like he actually was. Everything you had ever dared to dream of had happened in these last seconds, yet, you were still cautious. “Are you… serious? Do you really mean that? I mean, are you completely sure?” He sighed again before he answered, “I have checked my heart so many times over the last years. Of course I am sure. I am just sorry, you might feel like I betrayed our friendship…” You slammed your finger down onto his lips before he could continue that thought. “No, shush.” You let out a liberated laugh and he looked more confused than ever. “You don’t even know. Oh my god. I thought you were about to tell me to to go die or something because… well, because all this time, I tried to kill it off but I just couldn’t. Hoseok… Hobi, if what you’re saying is true, it is all good.” He crooked his head to the side, trying to comprehend the meaning of your words. “I… we…”, now that the time had come, you couldn’t find the right words to express the utter happiness and love for him you were feeling every second of your day. Taking all the courage his words had given you and the pure love you had collected and buried away these last years, you leaned forward and pressed your lips onto his. In contrast to earlier this time his lips felt so soft and heavenly. You could feel the bruise from before sting painfully but you couldn’t care less. And if your lips were chapped at that moment it didn’t matter. Every mundane thing melted into the background. In this time and place in your life you only felt happy. The purest, most intense blissfulness. And nothing could ever ruin this.

#hoseok #happy birthday #hobi #ff #fluff #hoseok fluff #drabble #hixtape will drop i am certain #fanfic #bts #bangtan #happyjhopeday #bangtan boys

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cyberramblings · 5 years ago

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Puyo Puyo, Lumines, and More

I have recently become significantly more familiar with the casual play of two-player modes of “falling stuff” games. I say “falling stuff” because that’s what Clubhouse 51 Games for Switch calls its 6-Ball Puzzle game, when it is clearly whatever genre Tetris is. Wikipedia calls Tetris a “tile-matching game”, but also lumps in Bejweled and Candy Crush and other “match three” games as a subgenre of “tile matching”. It really seems that there needs to be a name for the type of game where colored bricks fall from the sky and get arranged in a certain order. Off the top of my head, I have recently got into the aforementioned 6-Ball Puzzle, Puyo Puyo, and Lumines while I am at least aware of or have played a bit of Tetris, Dr. Mario, Puzzle Fighter and Panel De Pon/Puzzle League/Tetris Attack (as a sidebar, it is wild that Japan had traditionally not trusted the West to enjoy this genre despite Tetris being such a worldwide phenomenon).

Admittedly, 6-Ball Puzzle is the one of these that I have become so familiar with because it has been such a big hit in my household. 6-Ball shades closer to Puyo than Tetris, as it centers around getting 6 balls of one color to touch each other. Unlike Puyo and most other games of this genre, “attacks” are performed by making a specific shape rather that achieving a chain reaction. This keeps the gameplay simpler, which is what keeps in popular in my household. The difficulty comes from getting close to a shape, but accidentally triggering a match before the shape can be complete (all 6 in a line, pyramid, or hexagon). Also, the difficulty comes from how the balls fall with actual physics into interlocked rows, instead of just sitting on top of each other like Tetris or Puyo Puyo. This game, however, is just 1 out of 51 games included in Clubhouse Games for Switch, so the only options are enabling or disabling the preview of where your balls will fall and a handicap option. My fingers are crossed for a future update with more options or even the option to play the music from the other games so that my family can stop going insane from the singular terrible music track that plays.

After 6-Ball was such a hit in my family, we tried out Puyo Puyo Champions. This is a neat little package of a game, including classic Puyo Puyo 2 and the newer Puyo Puyo Fever rulesets all tied up with extra modes, online, and customizable graphics. Puyo Puyo goes so much quicker than 6-Ball, with a comparatively small board. My biggest problem with Puyo Puyo is just that matches are almost instantly over, even with overcoming the highest possible handicap. This is likely a localized phenomenon, and I am sure I would get destroyed online or even against the computer, but I wish there was a more casual option with this game. The many game play and aesthetic options are great though!

Lumines is the most recent “falling stuff” game played by my family, but it has mostly just been me playing it. Lumines manages to distinguish itself by just having 2 colors that need to be arranged into squares, plus its strong sense of aesthetic and rhythm. Each different song causes completed squares to be cleared at a different rate, making the songs actually different in terms of gameplay without requiring you to think too hard about the beat of the song. Lumines is probably the most fun for me to just sit and play alone due to the chill vibe and varying tunes and looks of the game as you clear levels. My issues with Lumines is that the two player mode does not capitalize on the low-key atmosphere of the single player modes, instead turning it into a death race where every match shifts the dividing line of the shareed board, meaning that matches quickly snowball. I would love for Lumines to stand out by having a cooperative two-player mode or at least a slower paced battle mode.

Of these three games, Puyo Puyo clearly has the highest skill ceiling and competitive viability. Lumines emphasizes mood over competitiveness, which is nice, but it still has a lot of depth, but I suspect there is a reason it lacks any online multiplayer. 6-Ball is clearly the simplest, but that works in its favor for playing with casual players and as part of a package that literally includes checkers.

#puyo puyo #six ball puzzle #clubhouse 51 games #switch #lumines #tetris

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thatcrazyfanfictionwriter · 7 years ago

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Secret of the Sewers: The Breakout

Professor Honeycutt paced around the room he'd been locked in, his face wracked with worry. Every so often, his eyes would glance over at the closed door, knowing full well there were at least two Triceratons guarding it. His eyes drifted from the door down to his metallic hands, knowing the secrets he's installed into them. Though he had been able to escape similar circumstances while the prisoner of Darius Dunn, he had been in familiar surroundings, and he had to only worry about himself. This time, he was in unfamiliar territory, and there wasn't a doubt in his mind that the Gamarons and their sister would be punished for his attempts.

He let out a sigh, sitting down on the cot and putting his head in his hands. All he could do was sit there and wait.

"I do hope you five are well." he said quietly.

...

Mealtime came around for Incarceron, and the motley group of six gathered around a single table in the back, the Hamato Siblings looking at the lump of brown mush that served as food.

"Umm, Mona Lisa?" Mikey questioned, poking the mush with his fork, "Are you sure we can actually eat this?"

"It is nutrients paste." Mona explained, eating her own paste. "A single portion provides you with all of the necessary sustenance for a full solar cycle of activity."

The five still looked at it skeptically, then Mikey scooped up a bit on his finger and licked it.

"Huh... Not that bad." he commented.

Eventually, the others were brave enough to give it a test, and then they two began eating it. As they chowed down, Leo spoke up.

"Mona Lisa, what can you tell us about how this place works?" He asked.

"What do you wish to know?" Mona replied, scooping up some more of the paste.

"I have the basic lay of our way out already planned." Donny explained. "However, without the inner workings of the prison, all my data is useless."

"I am afraid there's not much I can tell you." she replied, setting her fork down. "No prisoner has seen the outside of this cell block. Only the guards can travel through the outer halls."

"But how do the guards get in and out of the block?" Hisako wondered.

"Each guard has a special key card." Mona explained. "These cards allow them access all across the prison. However, they are rarely if ever in the block."

"So I guess what Rynokk said was true." Raph remarked. "They're just here to keep us in and clean up the blood."

"That is partially true." Mona agreed.

Raph glanced up in confusion.

"Partially?" he repeated.

"The guards will intervene in fights." she clarified. "Warden Tetrax talks a big game when he says that you will leave at the end of your sentence or in a body bag, but nobody wants to deal with dead prisoners."

"Then why didn't Tetris intervene when Rynokk and his buddies were beating the shell out of you?" Leo wondered.

"Because they only intervene during serious fights where someone gets injured to the point that they need medical attention." Mona explained.

As she said that, Raph glanced around the main area, his eyes catching sight of Rynokk and his buddies. He could feel an idea beginning to form, and a smirk playing on his face. He slipped away as the five continued talking.

"So that's the only way to get the guards in here..." Donny surmised. "And for our plan to succeed, we're going to need one of those cards."

"So we need to pick a fight, but a fight we know we can win." Hisako added.

"How the shell are we going to do that?" Mikey questioned.

Mona Lisa glanced over at where Raph had been sitting, noticing that he was gone. She looked around before finally catching sight of him approaching Rynokk's table.

"It would seem that Raphael is already working on that part of the plan."

She pointed towards the red turtle, the other four following her finger to where she was pointing. Their eyes went wide as Hisako immediately made a mental connection.

Raphael, no! She mentally hissed.

Raphael yes. Raph replied.

He came right up behind Rynokk, rearing his fist back before punching Rynokk in the back of the head with all is strength. The pink alien went face first into his nutrients paste, splattering it all across his respirator and all over the table. His cronies stifled a snicker, then they all began backing away slowly as Rynokk stood up. He turned towards Raph, glaring at the turtle.

"I hope for your sake that was an accident and you are about to beg for forgiveness." he snarled.

"Oh trust me, it wasn't an accident." Raph promised, putting on his cockiest grin and channeling every annoyance tactic he'd learned from Mikey. "That was just the precursor to a world of pain."

Rynokk snarled, leaning closer to Raph.

"You better apologize now, or-"

"Or what?" Raph interrupted, throwing his arms up. "You gonna sic your cronies on me?"

Rynokk went to say something, but Raph just went on.

"Ya know, I'm starting to think that there's a reason you let your cronies do all the dirty work." he ribbed. "I think that Rynokk is nothing but a big. Fat. Coward!"

By now, Raph had managed to gather a bit of a crowd, and from the many observation windows surrounding the block, the silhouettes of several guards could be seen.

"I bet that Rynokk wouldn't last five seconds in a fight against a real warrior!" Raph exclaimed. "He talks big, but the only thing scary about him is his body odor!"

Rynokk was done. He let out a loud screech, then went to punch at Raph. Raph just ducked out of the way, letting the big pink lummox stumble forward a bit.

"Awww, did I hurt widdle Rynokk's feelings?"

Rynokk recovered, then attempted a few more punches. With both his hands behind his back, Raph easily bobbed left and right, easily avoiding the blows. As this continued on, Hisako stood up and began cheering.

"Raph! Raph! Raph! Raph!"

After a second, Mikey joined her in her cheering, then Donny, then Leo. Soon, Mona Lisa was joining in on the cheering, and it spread from there, infecting all of the aliens watching until they were all cheering Raph's name. Rynokk's temperament did not improve. If anything it got worse.

"Here that, you overgrown pimple?" Raph taunted. "That's my name they're cheering. Not yours, mine. Guess these guys know who the real boss is."

Rynokk continued his futile attempts to hit Raph, then stopped, screaming in unadulterated rage.

"Stop screwing with me and actually fight!" he exclaimed.

"You sure you want that, Rynokk?" Raph questioned, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Shut you're Rakkin' gob and fight!"

With that, Rynokk charged towards Raph swinging a punch at him. Raph caught the punch and delivered one of his own to the face. Raph then unleashed one punch after another at Rynokk's face and chest, not giving the alien even a second to counter.

...

Up in the security room, several guards were watching the fight with great interest. A few were even making bets as to who the winner might be.

"Looks like someone's finally giving Rynokk a beat down." One of the guards commented.

"It's those Gamarons the Prime Leader sent us." another realized.

Warden Tetrax glanced at the screen as he stroked his chin in contemplation.

"These creatures are tougher than I anticipated." he remarked. "Perhaps even tough enough for the Games."

...

Back in the fight, Rynokk's respirator was showing some serious dents. He was stumbling around, holding his fists up in an attempt to defend himself. Raph breathed on his nails, shining them on his shirt before smirking.

"Had enough yet?" he questioned. "Cause I could do this all day."

Rynokk was breathing hard, but he ran at Raph with one last charge. Raph let him come, then jumped into the air. Before he even began his downward arc, Raph straightened his legs, coming in for a final blow at Rynokk's back. Both of his feet connected with the large alien's back, and you could almost see Rynokk's eyes bulge from the sudden attack. He fell on his stomach, groaning in pain as Raph gave a bow.

"And that's how you take down a prison boss." he declared.

As he said that, a shrill beep echoed through the block, then the Warden's voice came over an intercom system.

"Attention all prisoners, report to your designated sleeping areas immediately!" he ordered. "Failure to comply will result in any participating prisons being sent immediately to the Games!"

That's when guards began pouring into the block, causing all of the prisoners to scatter. Everyone immediately began scrambling towards the cells, tripping over one another to get moving. Raph jumped off of Rynokk, joining his brothers.

"Umm, what exactly are these games?" he asked. "And why is everyone so desperate to avoid them."

"Don't know, don't want to know." Leo answered. "We best get back to the cell now."

The five Hamato siblings raced up to the cell, vaulting over railing and even leapfrogging over other prisoners in a mad dash. When they finally reached the cell, the five of them leaned against the walls, breathing heavily and sliding to the floor.

"Well, we got what we wanted." Donny huffed. "So who grabbed the keycard?"

"Don't look at me." Hisako replied, holding up her empty hands. "I thought Leo grabbed it."

"And I though Donny grabbed it." Leo retorted.

"Well I didn't grab it." Donny snapped. "Mikey?"

"No, I thought Raph grabbed it." Mikey replied.

"I was busy fighting Rynokk, shell for brains." Raph exclaimed, face palming. "How could I possibly grab it?"

About that time, Mona Lisa came rolling into the cell seconds before the clear door slammed home. She paused for a moment to catch her breath, then smirked, unfolding her hand to reveal a keycard.

"I do believe we can cross the keycard off of our list." she declared.

Raph was grinning from ear to ear.

"Mona Lisa, I could kiss you!" he practically shouted.

Mona stared at Raph in surprise as the others began snickering. Mikey began making kissy faces, making fake mouths with his hands and smashing them together. Raph turned bright red, slowing lowering his face into his hands in shame.

"Guys, I think he's turning red!" Hisako snickered.

"Hard to tell through all the green." Mikey joked.

Raph muttered something unintelligible as Leo and Donny attempted to regain composure.

"Alright guys, we can poke fun at Raph later." Leo decided. "Mona's right though. We now have one less thing to worry about."

"Unfortunately, we still have an entire load of other problems to deal with." Donny added.

"The lockdown will remain in effect for another quigon." Mona informed them. "We should use this time to plan our next move."

"Good idea." Leo agreed, taking the key card from Lisa. "While we may have the card, it's going to be difficult to use it with guards watching our every move."

"We're going to need a distraction, and a big one." Donny suggested.

"And sicing Raph on more helpless prisoners isn't gonna cut it." Mikey added. "Those dudes didn't even come inside until AFTER the fight was done."

"We're going to need something bigger." Hisako rationalized. "Something to draw attention away from our escape attempt."

They all thought for a minute, then Raph finally spoke up again.

"How about a prison riot?" he asked.

Mona Lisa looked over at him, then smiled and nodded.

"That could work." she told him. "If we manage to get all of the prisoners to participate, it will force Warden Tetrax to send in all of his guards to deal with them."

"And in the resulting chaos, we can use the keycard to slip out." Donny added.

"But here's the million dollar question." Hisako reminded them. "How the shell are we going to organize a riot? I'm pretty sure Rynokk's cronies are probably gonna try and sabotage us."

"We'll have to worry about that once the lockdown ends." Leo decided. "But right now, let's just get some rest. Something tells me we're going to need it."

"Leonardo is right." Mona Lisa agreed. "This may be our one chance to sleep without the need for someone to keep watch."

With no more words needed, the turtles cozied up to one another, Hisako wedging herself into the center of the turtle pile. Within seconds, the five of them were out. Mona Lisa smiled softly at this, she curled up herself, joining her allies in sleep.

...

Prime Leader Zanramon sat down in the communication center of his palace, placing a call to Incarceron. Within a few trigons, the large communication screen came up, revealing the face of Warden Tetrax.

"Prime Leader." He greeted, saluting.

"Tetrax, I received a report that you initiated a lockdown." he declared, lacing his claws together in a sign of dissatisfaction. "Is there something I should know?"

"It was merely a precaution." Tetrax assured the Prime Leader, confidence practically oozing off his frame. "One of the Gamarons you sent me initiated a fight with Rynokk."

Zanramon snorted at the thought.

"No doubt he was reduced to little more than a green smear on the walls of the prison." he chuckled.

"No sir." Tetrax replied. "Actually, Rynokk wasn't even able to lay a single appendage on the Gamaron."

This made Zanramon pause. Rynokk was a well-known brawler, and had been the leader of a notorious group of space pirates before he had been captured. He'd seized control of the prison within the first Nexton of his sentence, and had gotten many of the strongest prisoners under his influence. And yet, a single Gamaron had taken him down.

"This is troubling news." He remarked. "You were wise to initiate the lockdown."

"Thank you Prime Leader."

"Keep an eye on the Gamarons." he ordered. "And keep me informed if anything out of the ordinary occurs."

"As you command."

Tetrax cut the communication, leaving Zanramon alone. He thought back to the Gamaron's threats, and their promise to handle whatever he threw at them. He'd brushed it off as being nothing more than an attempt to bolster the Fugitoid's confidence, but now he was beginning to think that they had meant every word.

...

The sound of the pneumatic locks to the cell door opening cause Hisako to bolt awake. She sat up, almost instinctively eying the door. Her brothers were awoken as well, feeling their sister's urgency. Mona Lisa awoke as well, immediately taking note of Hisako's frightened demeanor and pale complexion.

"Hisako, are we under attack?" she questioned.

Hisako shook her head, taking a deep breath in order to calm herself.

"Sorry..." she muttered, "I half expected... Him... to walk through the door."

The turtles instinctively pulled their sister closer, hugging her tightly and reassuringly. Mona Lisa noted this, looking at her allies in confusion and sympathy.

"Who is it she speaks of?" she asked.

"A person that we don't talk about." Raph explained. "You'll never meet him, so don't worry about it."

"Yeah." Leo agreed, his eyes catching sight of a few shadows approaching the door of their cell. "Something tells me we've got bigger things to worry about."

Everyone turned to see a few of Rynokk's cronies approaching the cell. The turtles all rose to their feet, Mona Lisa and Hisako doing the same. Raph moved to the front of the group, getting between the others and Rynokk's goons.

"You jokers come for a rematch?" he asked, getting into a defensive stance.

The aliens all immediately raised their appendages in pacifying gestures.

"Easy Gamaron." one hissed. "We're not here to fight."

"Far from it." another one added. "We're here to thank you."

This made all six of them blink in confusion. Raph lowered his stance, which prompted the aliens to lower their appendages.

"We've tried standing up to Rynokk before, and he's always pounded us into the floor." the first alien explained. "You're the first being in this rakkan hellhole that actually beat him."

"If you need or want anything at all, just ask." a third alien piped up. "We owe you that much."

Raph mulled that over, then a cocky grin plastered itself on his face.

"As it just so happens, there is something you guys could help me with."

He gestured for them to come closer and he began to whisper.

"My friends and I are thinking of starting a riot." he explained in a hushed tone. "We could use your help to spread the word and make sure everyone gets involved."

The aliens were all nodding enthusiastically, the idea of a prison riot making all of them eager for a fight.

"However, you got to wait for our signal." Raph insisted. "You go off too quickly, and the entire thing is moot."

"Don't worry Gamaron." The first alien insisted. "We've got this."

The aliens spread out to do what they'd been told, leaving the Hamato siblings and Mona Lisa to themselves.

"And that's two problems solved with one fight." Raph declared, his cocky grin becoming even more so. "You guys really need to step it up."

The turtles and Hisako just chuckled, clapping and patting their brother on the shell.

"So far everything has worked out, but we've seen how quickly Tetris can reclaim order down here." Donny reminded him. "If we want this to work, we need to take that power away from him."

"The intercom system." Mikey remembered. "I bet if we take that out, then old Tetris won't be able to call in the cavalry."

"It's Tetrax, why do you insist on getting his name wrong?" Mona Lisa questioned.

"Because it probably pisses him off, and I find that extremely satisfying." Mikey answered.

Lisa gave a nod of understanding, then returned to the matter at hand.

"The warden's name aside, Michelangelo is right." Mona Lisa agreed. "The key to any successful mission is cutting off communication."

"Maybe one of us can use the keycard to access the security room." Hisako suggested. "No doubt that's where the intercom is. We can commandeer it and use it to give a signal to Raph's new best friends."

Leo took the card out from where he'd hidden it, handing it to Hisako.

"That should probably be you then." he told her. "Out of all of us, you're the smallest, and no doubt have the best chance of actually finding the security room."

Hisako nodded, taking the keycard and sliding it onto the hem of her pants.

"So when do we do this?" she asked.

"Tonight." Leo declared.

...

When the lights shut off all throughout the prison, the Hamato siblings assumed that it was lights out. Hisako and her brothers exchanged knowing glances, then they all shared a nod. Hisako slipped out of the cell, grateful that the prison didn't seem to care about locking them in unless it was a lockdown. She jumped down to the first level, immediately rolling under a table for a second in case one of the cameras caught her jump.

After a few moments, nothing happened, so Hisako emerged from under the table. She approached the large door that she and her brothers had been forced through when they first arrived, her eyes immediately hitting the card swiper right by the door.

"Let's hope this works." she muttered.

She swiped the card, then the doors hissed open. Hisako wasted no time running through, ducking for cover as they closed behind her. She leaned against the wall, then closed her eyes, trying to listen for any guards. Though her physical senses picked up nothing, she did manage to catch a few stray thoughts from a pair of guards not far from her. She opened her eyes, then made her way towards the security room. She leaned against the door, placing her ear against the metal.

"I'm telling you Raz, the orange Gamaron had this in his pocket." one of the guards commented. "It has to be important."

"It's a primitive piece of technology that the creature probably picked up from a street vendor back on Dhoonib." the second guard, Raz, retorted. "Now put it back Zed."

Hisako slid the keycard, opening the door to reveal the two guards arguing over Mikey's shell cell. They had their backs to the door and didn't seem to notice her enter, too caught up in their argument.

"I'm just not sure you're right about it being useless." Zed argued. "He seemed rather adamant that I be careful with it. Perhaps it's some kind of weapon?"

"Knowing Donatello, it might be." Hisako remarked.

Both Raz and Zed turned just in time for Hisako to split kick them both, knocking them unconscious. Mikey's shell cell went flying into the air before Hisako snagged it. She turned it on and opened up a single app, her smile growing.

"This is gonna be good."

...

Back in the main prison block, the intercom system let out a shrill beep, one that roused all the prisoners from their sleep. However, the voice over the intercom got all the guards riled up as well.

"Hello? Is this thing on? Testing. Testing."

The prisoners were beginning to emerge from their cells, realizing that this was the signal they'd been waiting for.

"Hello Incarceron!" Hisako called over the intercom, putting on her best Radio Host voice. "This is Hamato Hisako, coming to you live from the security room, and I have got quite the treat for my fellow inmates. My brother Michelangelo managed to hold onto his cellphone before we got arrested, and he has access to a plethora of well-known tunes from my planet of Earth."

Mikey was beaming from ear to ear.

"She gave me a shout out!" he squeed.

"I think I have the perfect song to start off this prison riot, a classic done by the king of Rock and Roll himself! Give it up for Elvis Presley's Jailhouse Rock!"

A second later, the ever familiar beat of the classic song began to echo through the speakers. About the same time, the doors opened to allow the guards into the facility. By the time the first line of the song had been sung, prisoners were engaging guards in an all-out brawl. Raph popped his neck, then leapt into the fray, unable to pass up a good fight.

...

Up in the security room, Hisako looked at the camera feeds with a large smile. Everything seemed to be going just as they'd planned. She ripped off a piece of her shirt, tying Mikey's shell cell to the intercom before stashing it in a compartment. As she did so, she caught a glimpse of several guards making their way towards the security room.

"About time." she said with a grin.

...

Outside, several Triceraton guards aimed their weapons at the door. One leaned forward, swiping his card so the door would open. The second it opened, all of the guards let loose a barrage of laser fire, practically annihilating several of the security cameras, as well as the pair of chairs. After about a minute, they all stopped firing, taking a look around the destroyed room. There only appeared to be two occupants, the two guards that had initially been on duty. Thankfully, they were both on the floor unconscious, so had been left unharmed by the laser fire.

"Where'd the humanoid go?" One of the guards questioned.

As they scanned the room, Hisako watched them from above, having found a way onto the ceiling and was currently hanging there. Once the last one entered the room, she dropped down behind him, nerve jabbing him in the neck. The guy went down with a thud, drawing the attention of the other guards.

"It's the humanoid!" one shouted. "Open fire!"

They all began attacking, attempting to shoot Hisako down. However, she quickly dove for cover in a small closet, slamming the button to close the door. The gunfire was beginning to heat up the metal door as Hisako leaned against it.

"That was probably not my brightest idea." she muttered.

As she took a deep breath, her foot connected with a broom leaning against the wall, making it connect with her head. She yelped in surprise, grabbing the broom. She was about to push it off, then she paused.

"Well, it's no tessen, but beggars can't be choosers."

She grasped the broom, then opened the door again. The second it opened, she slid under one of the Triceratons, using the broom to trip him up. She then jumped to her feet, spinning the broom like a Bo staff and getting into a fighting stance.

"Bring it on, Dino-breath!" she exclaimed.

...

In the cell block, the main area had been reduced to a warzone. Triceratons and prisoners alike were everywhere, most still fighting tooth, nail, and claw while a few had been knocked unconscious. The turtles and Mona Lisa were all right in the middle of it all, forming a shell to shell circle in order to protect themselves.

"You know, I'm starting to think this may not have been such a good plan!" Donny noted as he kicked a Triceraton in the face.

"You kidding?" Raph exclaimed, punching two Triceratons simultaneously while grinning like a maniac. "I haven't had this much fun since that bar fight!"

"We need to make for the exit!" Mona Lisa exclaimed, dodging a bout of laser fire before tail whipping the shooter.

"Without Hisako, we don't stand a chance!" Leo replied. "She's got our keycard!"

"Then where is she?!" Mikey screamed.

About that time, Hisako came running up to them, a couple brooms in her hand as she swung them like bats, knocking a few guards aside.

"Sorry I'm late." she apologized. "But I found us some makeshift weapons."

She doled out the brooms so each of her brothers had one.

"They're no ninja weapons, but they're better than nothing." she admitted.

"Remember what Master Splinter taught us." Leo replied. "In the hands of a ninja master, anything can be a weapon."

Now armed, the Hamato siblings scattered. Donny had the easiest time adjusting to the broom since it worked similarly to his staff. He spun it around for a bit before smacking it across the face of a Triceraton guard several times. He then swung the broom at his feet knocking him down to the ground.

Raph charged at the Triceraton, holding his broom like a battering ram with the broom end out. The Triceraton grabbed the end of the broom and picked him up, bringing him up to eye level. Raph then kicked the Triceraton in the face repeatedly. One last kick knocked the Triceraton to the ground as Raph back flipped onto the ground.

"Now that felt good." he muttered to himself.

Leo planted the broom on the ground, running forward and using it to trip up his enemies. Once they were down, he twisted the broom, using the side to clock the unfortunate Triceraton on the side of the head. He might as well have hit the guy with a bat because he was out in an instant.

Mikey meanwhile, was snapping the handle of his broom in the face of a Triceraton.

"A little to the right, a little to the left, one more time, a little bit more like that."

He punctuated each direction with a snap of the handle, forcing the Triceraton into the position he wanted. Finally, he was right where the orange turtle wanted him.

"And... stop." He declared. "Perfect."

Hisako swung her broom with all her strength, connecting with the side of the Triceratons head. He fell hard as Hisako grinned at her brother.

"You're a natural, sis." he told her, holding out a fist.

"Thanks, bro." she replied, fist bumping him.

Lisa came up behind a Triceraton, latching onto his back and pounding on his head. He attempted to shake her off, but found the action impossible. Raph watched her fighting, unable to keep a lovesick puppy dog grin off his face. One Triceraton attempted to take advantage of his daze, only to receive a rabbit punch to the face from the red turtle, who didn't even bother looking back. Once Mona Lisa had dispatched her Triceraton, she turned to the Hamato Siblings.

"We have wasted enough time here." she declared. "If we are to make our escape, we must act now."

"You heard Lisa, let's book!" Leo shouted.

They all ran for the exit, occasionally bashing guards aside as they got to the door. Hisako wasted no time swiping the card, the six of them pouring through the door before it even opened all the way.

"Donny, which way to the hangar bay?" Hisako questioned.

"Turn right at the next intersection." Donny answered. "Then a sharp left, and we should be at the doors of the hanger."

The six ran at top speeds, even sliding slightly as they took the two necessary turns. Once they reached the door, Hisako swiped the card again. They prepared to charge through the doors, but were met by Warden Tetrax standing in their way, an entire army of armed guards behind him. He gave a slow clap, a smug smile on his face.

"Congratulations." he told them. "This is the farthest any escape attempt has ever gotten."

"We aim to please." Raph remarked.

"Let us pass Tetris!" Mikey demanded.

Tetrax's face faltered slightly as his eye twitched.

"That's Warden Tetrax to you, Gamaron." he snarled. "And what makes you think I'll listen to a single word you say?"

Mona Lisa stepped forward, punching her palm.

"I will handle this, Gamarons." she whispered to them. "You five make for one of the shuttles. I will be right behind you."

"Lisa, you're outnumbered 200 to 1." Donny calculated. "The chances of you succeeding are-"

"Do not tell me the odds, Donatello." she interrupted. "Just go!"

She charged at Tetrax, tackling the Warden to the ground. The guards were shocked by the sudden movement, which gave the Hamato Siblings the opening they needed.

"Now's our chance, let's go!" Leo ordered.

The Hamato Siblings made a beeline towards the first shuttle they laid their eyes on. They were about halfway up the gangplank before laser fire echoed through the hangar. Raph's blood ran cold when he heard a pained scream come from Mona Lisa. The world seemed to slow down as he looked back. He saw Mona Lisa fall to the ground, where she was immediately dogpiled by a dozen or so guards.

"Mona Lisa!" he shrieked.

Hisako felt what he was about to do and her eyes went wide.

"Raph! Stop!"

But he didn't. Gripping his broom so tightly his knuckles turned light green, he ran at the Triceratons, screaming with every step.

"What's that shell-head doing?!" Donny shouted.

"He's ruining the plan!" Hisako snapped.

"Leo, what do we do?!" Mikey questioned.

By now, Raph was swinging his broom like a madman, the sides connecting with faces, abdomens, and even between a few legs. However, the guards were closing in fast and it was clear that he would soon be overwhelmed.

"We have to help him, now!" Leo decided.

They all ran to join their brother, hoping to even the odds in their favor. Unfortunately, even with all five of them there, they were all exhausted from their previous bouts, and there were just too many of them. Within a few minutes, they had been stripped of their brooms and were all lying on the ground in a groaning, unconscious heap.

"Like I told you before, off worlders..." Tetrax said to their unconscious bodies. "Nobody leaves this prison unless their sentence is up, or they're dead."

A guard came up to Tetrax, giving a salute.

"We've managed to subdue the riot sir." he declared. "We'll have the prisoners locked down in a matter of trigons."

"See that you do." Tetrax replied. "And somebody get me in contact with the Prime Leader."

...

Zanramon was fast asleep in his royal chambers when the call came in. When he heard the constant beeping noise letting him know the call was waiting, he let out an audible growl. He sat up, shuffling over to the communication array and turning it on.

"I do hope that this call is important." He snarled in barely concealed annoyance and rage. "Because if it is not, you will find yourself either on the next transport to the Klackspire mines, or the next featured attraction in the games!"

"I am sorry to wake you, Prime Leader." Warden Tetrax apologized. "However, you did ask me to inform you if anything out of the ordinary happened."

Zanramon paused, now honestly intrigued. He didn't even need to ask before Tetrax explained.

"The Gamarons and their humanoid ally seem to have formed an alliance with the Salamandarian Y'Gythgba, and they organized a riot in order to make an escape."

"WHAT?!" Zanramon exclaimed.

"Fear not, Prime Leader." Tetrax assured him. "We have successfully contained the riot, and the six would-be escape artists are back in custody."

Zanramon let out a sigh of relief. It seemed that his earlier assessment of the off worlders' promises was correct. They were indeed much stronger than he had originally anticipated. They would have to be dealt with, and Zanramon already knew the perfect way to do it.

"What are your orders sir?"

Zanramon smiled.

"Send them all to the Games."

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