#and thus what her folder was named and i just never changed it so when I squished her into one layer

[gemini-queen42]

Tried doing more work on beastie and ouffhhg. Ough.

Anyways here's a video showcasing how many layers have been dedicated to her (and we havent even gotten to color which is the REAL layer motherload):

Video muted cuz y'all don't need to hear my fan whirring.

[pearlywritings]

Intimacy records

synopsis: what kinds of horny stuff they have in their phones and which is the favorite?

pairing and characters: Aventurine, Blade, Boothill, Dr Ratio, Gallagher, Gepard, Jing Yuan, Loucha, Sampo, Sunday (separately) x fem!reader

tw: SMUT, established relationship (marriage/dating), consensual recording of lovemaking, nudes, oral, lingerie, fingering, masturbation, public sex, breast play, shibari/blindfold, sex machine, creampie

word count: 4.3k+ words

Aventurine

Undoubtedly this man has a whole separate folder for intimate stuff. Of course, he demands you send him something on a daily basis - doesn’t matter if it’s a quick snap of your choice of lingerie in the morning, or recordings of touching yourself - but never enough to cum, it’s his job. Naturally he loves having reminders of you being at his mercy - thus there are also videos of you both (with primarily established consent). All that to say - he has quite the collection, so it’s really hard to pick a favorite, the most desire-arising one.

Maybe it’s a category actually - self-made media created out of bet. Who’ll cum first? Can you keep going without tearing up from pleasure for longer than 10 minutes? Is he patient enough not to touch your sexy self, while you masturbate in front of him? Who is going to be louder this time? These kinds.

”I hope you are ready to lose,” your lover smirks, making himself comfortable between your legs. Camera floats a little, as you chuckle behind it. With a momentary adjustment, the focus is on his face again and he winks, before turning to trail a little path of kisses across your thigh. The image jumps, when he sucks on the skin, and slightly trembles as you let out a sigh. Then it’s firm, as Aventurine wraps his arms around your thighs, his nose teasingly rubbing against your clit. Suddenly there is a lick, then your breath hitches…. And then he buries his mouth into your pussy. It doesn’t take much time for the image to begin shaking wildly, almost matching your debauched noises. There is squelching, there are award-winning male moans, muffled by your heat, soon there is a hand, your hand, reaching down and grabbing his hair. Phone strangely angles, hardly supported by just one hand, until it falls camera down onto the shits. After that, there are just delicious screams of yours, chanting the name of your lover and begging him to stop, while he doesn’t listen, taking his reward for yet another win.

Yeah, he proved you can’t keep the camera focused while he is eating you out in that one. It’s truly a pity, that more than a half of what was going on, didn’t get recorded in image. Maybe next time you'll do better - oh... That's actually not a bad idea at all… Looks like you are in for another bet.

Blade

His situation is… quite peculiar. First of all, he has so little care for his own phone outside using it to get info for the mission, to the point ANYONE from the Stellaron Hunters can just take it and do whatever with it (Silver Wolf and Kafka practice it a lot). Even your relationship doesn’t change it much, he messages you rarely and quite shortly, preferring to save the conversation for personal interaction. 

However recently, Kafka has been putting a plan into action - the first step of which was banning everyone from getting into his phone (herself excluded). Then she’d start sending her colleague an occasional picture of a set of lingerie she’s oh so sure would look wonderful on you. Blade never answers, but he doesn’t tell her off either, and by the snooping she knows that the pictures get bookmarked, the links for the shops she attaches are visited, and sums of money are being spent.

Oh, and by checking the chat… She knows you get them delivered. Does she text you to shower you with compliments? She does. At first it was a little embarrassing and you asked Blade if he could, maybe, pay better attention to his phone??? But soon, when your lover started showing the telltale signs of jealousy... It became pretty hot (plus praise from THE Kafka? Ego-boosting).

Blade doesn’t voice it, but more than seeing you all pretty for him, he loves seeing you ruined for him, and doesn’t complain when you ask him to take a picture with your phone of whatever part of you, focusing on the marks, or the torn crotch of your panties, or something alike… There are times when he would text you with a simple ‘send me pictures with torn stockings’ or ‘yesterday. open nipples bra. now’ , because he knows you have them, and you deliver, because you know he loves them. 

Has his favorites:

Depicts your thighs, bitten and opened wide, while the black panties are pushed aside to let two thick, scar-covered fingers dive into your pussy.

Your body after one of the sessions - bra roughly pushed down under the mark-covered breasts, panties missing, one stocking still on the leg, but with multiple holes in it, and the other tying your wrists above your head.

A small video you insisted on recording of the man tugging onto your garter belt whenever he wanted your hips to push towards his thrust, threatening for the thin elastic material to snap.

Even though he doesn’t save them, he knows how to get an easy access to them, so for Blade it works quite fine (and Kafka’s plan does too, making Blade look less intimacy-repulsed and spicing up your relationship).

Boothill

A cyborg, whose only human part of the body is the head, and sex life… How can this be possible? 

Oh, trust me, it can. Sure, his bodily reaction differs, but he still is excited to get nudes from you, finally able to express through the text what he really thinks with that foul mouth of his. A voice recording of you dirty talking to him? Awesome. A video? You can bet his engine is overheating and vents are whirring.

But in all honesty, the ones he truly loves and returns to are the recordings of him doing stuff to you. Call him self-conscious, it’s not like he can bite back with a swear, but the reminder that he can bring you pleasure even now is sometimes necessary.

The lights are intimately dimmed, not enough to bring the room into utter darkness. Two bodies are lying almost intertwined with your back turned to the camera. The metal arm of your lover has sneaked under your side and around your waist, fingers digging into the plush glob of your ass, tugging on it, to further the spread which is created by your leg thrown over his hip. Your pussy is perfectly presented to the camera, puffy and slick, with two gray plated fingers massaging it. Digits slide up and down your labia, occasionally staying on the clit, to rub tight circles on it and elicit some sweet moans out of you, only to return to their previous ministrations, dipping the tips juuust a little bit into the quivering hole. Your back arches and body deliciously shivers from the contrast of his cool and your heat, and you softly whine, when he releases your ass cheek to give it a spank and then grab it again, unwilling to let the sight of your cunt escape his phone’s camera. You whimper something, muffled by his chest, but he remembers by heart what you were begging for. ‘Please, put your mouth on me.’ He will, in a minute, but right now he pushes both fingers to the second knuckle in, making you jolt in his hold, but not letting you go anywhere.

It’s captivating, how his inhuman digits disappear and reappear with every thrust he makes; slick-covered they look shiny, as if you polished them, and the cyborg shudders, imagining your tongue running around them. That’s one dangerous video, he may just give in to his want to see you and abandon the mission he was assigned to…

Dr Veritas Ratio

Unsurprisingly, Veritas’ phone doesn’t contain that much stuff in general. Maybe some downloaded articles, notes to put down later, if he doesn’t have a piece of paper at the moment, and very few pictures, mainly of his writings on the chalkboard. Don’t be discouraged though, of course he has pictures of you. Some selfies you took after “borrowing” his phone and ones he doesn’t have a heart to delete (but he will scoff at you, should you decide to tease him), and some very well-thought images he took on his own accord - he needs reference for when he decides to let his mind rest from research and focus on sculpting.

And one might think that such a reserved and cold man will not entertain storing anything explicit on his phone. Well, he indeed does not have any pictures and videos saved - if he wants, he can either find what you sent him via your chat or just demand your assistance. However… There is something that strangely became his way of concentrating when doing his research…

”Oh! Mh- *thrust* Veri- ohmygod! *thrust*”

“Wait- Aaah! I can’t! I’m sore! MmmmMMM!” “No, you can and you will. Now hold still, I can’t eat you out if you keep thrashing around.” “Oh Aeons!”

*Slick sounds of you going down on him, gurgling and choking on his girth, occasionally gasping to catch your breath, only to have his cock buried in your throat again*

“Baaaby… I miss you so much… Can I come to your office? I promise to be good… Just need to cockwarm you - nothing else I swear. Let me keep you company pleeease. Imagine how nicely it'd be to have your cock buried in my pussy, while you are working… Need to help you with stress-relief, it's gonna feel so-so good.”

“Oh fuck, o-oh, love, I'm cumming, I'm cumming, I’mcumMIN-” “Ngh, s-so…tight…” “Aaaaaaah~!”

“Veritas Ratio, if you come home in ten minutes, I will give you a nice massage and then ride you damn cock, till the only thing you can think about is not your work, but me. If you fail to do so though… I wonder if my threat to use some toys instead will work. Just know that your wife is very mad. And horny.”

It doesn't matter if the audio was taken while you were intimate or it was something you sent to him and he saved - he thoroughly enjoys everything your voice has to offer to him. And if instead of concentrated it accidentally makes him horny - he'll just play the next one, while undoing his pants.

Gallagher

Oh, this man is a menace. And a huge ass-lover. His gallery is full of pictures of your booty: clothed, just panty-clad or bare. There are shots with your body clearly being bent, ass up and back covered in his load. Videos of him fucking you from behind, with cock sliding in and out of your pussy? Obviously. Recordings of it jiggling as he spanks you? Would’ve been strange if they weren’t there.

However, in that vast collection of his, there is a video that’s most peculiar - one might say scandalous. It was one of those nights when he took over the bar for Siobhan and you came over at some point, all enticing and so sexy in that little dress of yours… He could not resist taking you right there once the establishment was closed. And it got on security camera...

Moans so loud, that they are reaching the recording device, are still of the delicious kind. Your back is arched over the bar counter, arms lifted and wrists tied by none other but Gallagher’s wine-red tie, and held by his own hand for good measure. The front of your dress is pushed down, revealing your pretty breasts, jiggling with every thrust of the man’s hips, and the hem of it has ridden up, baring your stomach and mark-covered thighs. Your lover is barely unclothed, pants and boxers pushed down just enough to free his cock and the tie, obviously, missing. The hand that is not holding your wrists, is grabbing onto your leg, under the knee, lifting it for a better angle, and showing off a lewd detail - your black lace panties hanging on your shin. You are looking positively debauched, and he is no better, groaning and cursing, with an occasional exceptionally rough trust that makes you scream and whine. There are teeth-gritted ‘slut’s and huskily chuckled ‘bad girl’s with your pleading ‘sir’s and ‘Gal’s, all of that deliciously seasoned with the clapping of the wet skin colliding. But nothing beats the moment of you cumming, depicted by no less than three cameras from all of the hottest angles…

Of course this footage was ‘confiscated’ by him with some dumb excuse for Siobhan (he doubts she believed it, given the knowing look and shit-eating grin she gave him), with all traces destroyed except just one copy thoroughly hidden on his phone. He thinks you two should repeat that - this time, however, he’d love to bend you over the counter with your back facing him…

Gepard Landau

Gepard would die if someone took his phone and got into his gallery. Poor man has to change the password weekly to throw Serval off his case (she was only teasing, but that made her brother paranoid). There is a reason for such behavior - while he is way too sweet and gentlemanly to suggest making sexy pics or, Supreme Guardian forgive, videos, he can't help but to be too whipped for you. 

This man dutifully saves every single photo and video of yours - nudes included.

You don't send them very often - you don't want to kill your darling husband. But sometimes the yearning is unbearable, and there is a suffocating need to show Gepard what he is missing while away on duty (you always leave a warning message though, so he could check it while alone and undisturbed).

No matter how red and embarrassed he gets, the man timidly admits that he enjoys this kind of attention. He is not beyond the earthly pleasures - he too has a favorite theme, that recently became more present in what you send him…

At first you looked so absolutely cute and domestic with his huge sweater on, the one you personally knitted for him - the beginning of the video didn’t look all that different from the photos you sent him just minutes before. But soon it becomes clear why you asked if he was alone, because once you position the phone and climb onto the bed, your full attire gets revealed. White stockings are replacing your usual home pants, and as your fingers grab the hem of the sweater and tug it up, the white panties from a matching set start peaking. The view is both pure and alluring, with the way your legs are spreading wide, and the sweater being pushed further up, baring your braless breasts. The hem gets secured between your teeth and both hands teasingly run down your sides, index fingers drawing circles around the tits, before squeezing them; as one remains right there, the other slowly slides down your stomach, disappearing under the hem of those flimsy panties. Imagination paints wild images - every next is hotter than the previous, and only your muffled moans of his name and rapidly rising chest are indicators of how good you feel with fingers pushing in and out of your pussy. And that damn sweater… You are not taking it off.

The Captain of the Silvermane Guards has one guilty pleasure - you, wearing his clothes. Domesticity, longing, finding comfort in something of his touches his heart and heightens his love and desire for you, almost making him consider taking a regular day off.

Jing Yuan

This man literally worships the ground his wife is walking on, so OF COURSE he wants to have as many pictures and videos of you as possible. It gets so boring and lonely when he is at work, after all. But don’t be fooled by his sweet and innocent smile, there are not only cute shots of you both or just you, he has sexy stuff too.

Man is obsessed with your chest. It’s his favorite pillow (thus so many pictures of him snuggling his face right between your breasts), his best stress-relief (photos and short videos of his big veiny hands cupping and squeezing your girls, with an occasional swipe of the thumbs over the erect nipples), his favorite place to leave marks on (no one can see them under the clothes, but just one tug of his finger on your collar and he is met with a delicious sight. Plus the photos he asks to send occasionally).

Loves, loves, loves, purchasing lingerie for you and when you demonstrate your bra-clad tits. He immediately wants them in his face, but there is the phone screen keeping him away.

But oh does he love recordings of playing with them.

Your body is steadily bouncing on your husband’s lap, creating a beautiful melody of skin slapping against skin. There is an occasional peak of his thick cock, covered in your juices, that immediately disappears again, undoubtedly swallowed by your pussy. One strong arm is wrapped around your waist, supporting you, while the other hand is palming at your left breast. The right one has fallen victim to his eager mouth, lips wrapped around the nipple, sucking on it tenderly, tongue toying with the overstimulated nub. His eyes are half-lidded when he looks up at you, moaning around your breast, when you tug on his luscious locks, trying to push him away, to give you a small rest. He is drawing back indeed, planting a soft kiss to the valley between the jiggling globes, and you sigh in relief, deceived by his affectionate action. Only for you back to arch and mouth hang in a loud moan, when Jing Yuan brings your other breast to his awaiting tongue, dropping both hands to your hips to aid you in speeding up your riding, sensing your nearing orgasm.

Maybe next time you should try recording him making you cum by playing with your chest only… Ah, just the thought makes his cock swell.

Loucha

As much as Loucha enjoys your company and more often than not allows you to accompany him in his journeys, there are times when he can’t take you with him. Which means he leaves for weeks, or sometimes a couple of months, going through the days without a single touch from you. Before getting into a relationship with you, he could survive without intimacy just fine, but now, since he knows the taste of affection and being spoiled by you, it’s getting hard.

That’s when recordings on his phone come in handy, especially when there is no opportunity of a video call to indulge. And there is one he most frequently returns to…

Your chest is rising and falling, pretty breasts with perky nipples brought together by a wrap of a rope. Red and purple marks bloom on your skin akin flowers, some fresh, some from days before. Sweat shines on your hot skin, indicating just for how long the blonde has been torturing you with pleasure and denial. There is a small shake of the video, as your lover is establishing his phone, having just started the recording, and softly making you aware of how good you look - you wouldn’t know with that blindfold covering your eyes. Once the angle is perfect - capturing your arms, tied above the head, the arch of your back and thighs pushed together for stimulation, the man is joining you on the bed. It is cock-hardening, how you lift your head to find his lips, when you sense him leaning down, needily allowing him to indulge in a kiss before the game of orgasm denial continues. His hand meanwhile is creeping down your body, starting with caressing your cheek, fingers sliding down your neck, over the swell of your breast, thumb pushing against the nipple, eliciting a moan out of you right into his mouth, and then palm splaying on your stomach, traveling even lower, before it disappears between your thighs.

Loucha is a man of foreplay. There is nothing more satisfying to him, than indulging into your body before sinking his cock into your warmth. He loves making you squirm, completely at his mercy, drawing you right to the edge, and then denying you the sweet release, just to make you yearn, just to stretch the process out.

Sampo Koski

Sampo is nasty and that is not a secret. I am sure, if you were up for it, he’d suggest filming porn just for the giggles (and extra cash, come on, you both are fucking hot). There are teasing nudes and intimate videos, and it’s not a rare occasion of either of you texting the other with some found porn with a caption ‘let’s try it?’ and you do, frequently recording the process to compare later, and claiming that your performance is better.

However, sometimes it tends to not go according to the script (not like you usually have one). Sampo is chaotic and it’s not hard to lose focus with a lover like him, and these exact moments are Koski’s favorite. Despite being a Masked Fool, during these times he himself looks so sincere, it’s as unnerving, as it is exciting. Rewatching such videos and seeing how you mirror the look in his eyes, giggle with him, even crack a joke, all without ruining the mood - makes him believe he’s found his soulmate (and if you did film porn with him, he’d never share this level of intimacy with your viewers, it solely belongs to you two).

You are giggling, shaking your head with a wide smile, all the while lying on your stomach between his toned mark-covered thighs and leisurely fisting his hard, leaking cock with an angrily red tip. 

‘Sampo, please, be a little serious, we are trying to be sexy here.’

‘We are sexy! What’s not hot in shaping my and your pubic hairs into the lips?? They could kiss, when we fuck!’

‘You are unbelievable,’ you snort, trying to save the last bits of your composure, and leaning forward to mouth at his tight balls. This makes your lover pornographically (how ironic) moan, throwing his head back.

‘Mmm, yes, right there~ Oooh… If am soooo unbelievable, it must mean I am dreamy? How about I bring you to a Penacony, to a Dreamscape? I bet in your dream I’d be as good in bed as I am in reality.’

Your resolve snaps and you burst out laughing, letting go of his sack and pressing your face to his thigh, shaking, dropping the hand from around his cock. Sampo whines.

‘Come ooooon, I was so close!’

‘Shu-ah-ha-t-ah-uh-p,’ you manage through your laughter. The man pouts, but the gaze of mint green is summer-warm as he is looking down at your trembling form. Your voice is pretty, your cackles are pretty, and oh damn he is laughing too.

And these are just the first few minutes of the last video, the thing has a duration of half an hour, so, obviously, you didn’t stop there. That’s what Sampo Koski loves - no matter how cringe you become, it’s never a reason to stop the whole process. If anything it’s something to spark an even longer and intimacy-filled one.

Sunday

Keeping personal stuff on his phone is quite dangerous, given Sunday’s position. That’s why he owns two phones - his work one, and one to mainly contact you, his sister, and a small circle of the most trusted people. He is extremely good at handling the owning of two separate devices, never mistaking one for another, that people are often convinced he has only one.

But it’s his personal cellphone that interests us. Oh, does he have a whole collection of photos and videos of you, one folder in particular hidden just for good measure. Sunday is a collected and regal man, yet it doesn’t mean he has a hard time enjoying your teasing. Quite contrary, sometimes he welcomes it, loving the photos you send him from an outing, shopping for clothes, or better yet, lingerie, sending him multiple shots of different sets and asking him which he loves most, and which he’d like to see on you tonight. 

There are videos too, especially when he’s been extremely busy, and you are oh so needy, sending him short recordings of touching yourself, sighing out his name, begging him to come and help you. However, there is one he particularly likes…

Big silicone cock is being pushed in and out by the machine he purchased for you to quell your need when your husband can’t be there for you. You are on your stomach, with hips slightly raised and pushed backwards, chasing the toy, and he can see the perfect outline of your pussy, outer lips swollen and puffy, covered in a sticky substance, opening and constricting in attempts to accommodate the girth. Your moans are sweet, so-so sweet, hitting a high pitch, when the dildo falls out and a thick glob of cum substitute escapes your pussy. And then another, and another, messing your thighs even more, ruining the towel underneath you. Yet you don’t stop, reaching behind, and pushing the tip back into your tight warmth, making the toy pick its pace again. It’s squelching, it’s so dirty, but it’s so hard to look away. You give yourself creampie, after creampie, sometimes stopping to collect the substance and push it inside with your digits, fingering, moaning and whining for your husband, wishing it’s his cum sploshing between your walls, breeding you.

Yes, it’s his favorite, almost 4-minute video. Ever the neat freak, he can’t deny you look heavenly when ruined, on an equally ruined bed, begging for his attention and semen. You have to forget about the machine for some time, however, because since then Sunday has been truly devoted to breeding you.

[quirrrky]

—•✦ 𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙉𝙀𝙓𝙏 𝙏𝙊 𝙔𝙊𝙐

KUROO, your business partner and bestfriend, had one birthday wish and that's for you to attend a party as his fiancee, his fake fiancee

3k+ f!reader, friends to lovers, fake dating

ꨄ︎ happy birthday to the male lead of my life! wishing you'd finally show up for real now lmao

“So Kuroo, you’re turning thirty this weekend, right?”  

“No, sir, just twenty-nine.” Kuroo gave a stiff and stony grin. Mr. Onitsuka, the CEO of the sportswear company he was trying to get as a sponsor, happened to be a rigid family man.

“Just twenty-nine...” There’s certainly some hint of disappointment with how it sounded from the older man.  

Kuroo gulped and bit the inside of his cheeks. This deal was his most important thus far. We’re dealing with one of Japan’s prestigious brands. He couldn’t let this opportunity pass, especially that he just recently got promoted as the Sports Ambassador for the Japan Volleyball Association. 

“Well, we can feature our players-” 

“You mean athletes.” Mr. Onitsuka corrected. 

Kuroo gulped and almost banged his head against the nearest wall. Of course, athletes! Not players.  

Not a “player” like...him.  

Who would’ve thought that his singleness was not a good credential for the strictly traditional man in front of him? Everyone who’d see the specimen of a man Kuroo was could tell that he had a high market value among the ladies, which screamed one thing. He must be a player! 

“Yes, that’s right. Athletes...”  

“Look, Kuroo, it’s clear that you had everything well-planned out.” Mr. Onitsuka closed the folder. “But I’m sure you can’t do all this by yourself...” 

“I know someone who could cover this partnership.” Kuroo beamed, excitedly. His face lit up like he had the most brilliant plan out of his pocket. “We’ve been together and conquered a lot by now. I would even bet my life to guarantee you that she is the best!” He pronounced, loud and proud. 

“I never heard about her before.” Mr. Onitsuka's expression changed into something a bit lighter. “So when did the both of you start together?” 

At last! He’s passing the test. Kuroo thought. 

“Oh, me and Y/N? We began working on a project about a year ago and we really hit it off so well. Our chemistry’s just...out of this world.” 

Kuroo’s phone rang with the Star Wars’ Imperial March, a ringtone you personally assigned for yourself. Mr. Onitsuka saw your name and said, signaling for Kuroo to answer the phone, “Your girlfriend.” 

In a slight panic, Kuroo almost juggled the phone in his hand. For a short while, he thought that he was now accepted by Mr. Onitsuka, however there seemed to be a misunderstanding. He wanted to clear it up, but he had to answer you first... 

“H-Hello...” Kuroo gulped. “How’s my girl?” He saw a tinge of disappointment on Mr. Onitsuka's face, and he got agitated, mindlessly spouting things off. “How’s my beautiful...” Of course, he couldn’t say girlfriend. “Bride...” Shit! That's too sudden, so he added. “...to-be.” Bride to-be? 

Oh crap. He ran his mouth without thinking. 

You laughed. “Wait...Are you drunk?” 

“Mhm hmmm...so drunk on you, only on you, babe.” Kuroo winked at Mr. Onitsuka, who was obviously enjoying the show he was putting on. 

“What have you gotten yourself again, Tetsu?” You cracked up and followed, “Hey...listen, I already reserved the bar for your birthday party. It’s all good now.” 

“You’re the best! Wait, love. Just hold on a sec, okay? I’m in the middle of a meeting, but I’ll be there in a heartbeat once this is done.” 

You scrunched your face, laughing. “What’s wrong with you? Are you being hit on by an old lady again?” 

Kuroo chuckled, genuinely. Oh...that smartmouth of yours... 

“Let’s talk about it in a few, alright? See you the soonest, sweetheart. Bye bye, love you.” He hung up and sighed apologetically at Mr. Onitsuka. “Sorry about that. My woman needs me.” 

“Then I suggest you go to her right away. You musn’t keep her waiting.” Mr. Onitsuka said, sounding more relieved to have found out that JVA Sports Ambassador Kuroo Tetsurou was a “committed” man. “If that’d be my wife, I’ll be having an earful by now.” The older man oddly broke his rigid exterior and laughed.  

“I’ll take that advice to heart,” Kuroo affirmed. 

“I’ll be sending the documents with my signature within the week.” Mr. Onitsuka extended his hand and Kuroo shook it. “It was nice meeting you, Kuroo. I’ll see you and your fiancee on your birthday party.” 

Kuroo chuckled, nervously. “Can’t wait, sir.” 

Now, he’s left with convincing you to be his future wife even just for a night.  

⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚

As the new sports ambassador for JVA, Kuroo now carries the image of the sport, well, including its athletes. As much as it’s great to recognize that Volleyball athletes were good-looking, values such as commitment must be reflected as well. Kuroo knew that.  

Though he admittedly had a past of dating around and exploring his options, it wasn’t the deal now. Kuroo wanted to commit but...he wanted to be slow and careful... 

Opening up the door to the restaurant, he immediately spotted you browsing on your phone. He didn’t miss the look of the man seated beside you on one of the bar stools. He sighed. Another one of those bastards... 

Approaching you, Kuroo wrapped an arm around your shoulders and planted a kiss on your forehead. “So, how’s the check-up? Is our little peanut okay? I’m sorry I missed it.” He said, making sure that the man heard.  

You subtly rolled your eyes and answered back, “He just kicked inside me now like he wanted to kick you instead.” 

Kuroo acted animatedly amused. “Sounds like his mother. That’s too early.” Taking the other seat beside you, he swiveled your chair so you’re facing him.  

“Last week you put a ring on me and now it’s a baby.” You snickered. “What’s next, Tetsu? Retirement plan?” 

“Come on. I’m just being the best bestfriend there is. Plus, you have saved my ass a million of times too.” 

Indeed, you didn’t know when it started but you and Kuroo played as each other’s fake partner whenever you’re both being hit on by strangers you didn’t like.  

“Yeah, remind me to pose as your lovesick wife next time.” You joked and Kuroo rubbed his chin. 

“Maybe at my birthday party?” He suggested. 

You took a sip of your juice. “Yeah, sure.” 

“No, seriously, though.” He took your hand and held it firmly. “Mr. Onitsuka...” 

“Oh, Family Guy...” 

“Exactly! I...” He’s now starting to take out his greatest weapon, his sad boy pout and unfortunate doe eyes. 

Oh. “How did you mess up this time?” 

His hold on your hand tightened. “I might’ve made it seem like we’re getting married.” 

That explained the cheesy lovey-dovey petnames a while ago. 

You were speechless. Kuroo’s not the one to lie. He’s always the straightforward guy, so... “How the hell did that...” 

“I don’t know. Man, he’s been grilling me with my life plan, my age and all, that I had a slip-up.” 

Well, you’ve done this countless times before, but his birthday party was a different thing. His friends and some colleagues will be there. You looked at your joined hands and then back at his troubled expression. 

“Y/N, just for my birthday, please...” Kuroo pleaded, “Be my lovesick wife even just for that day.” 

⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚ 

Kuroo leaned on his car as he marveled at you so breathtakingly beautiful in a red dress. Playfully, he whistled. “It might be hard for me to think this is all pretend when you’re doing some serious damage on me with that dress.” 

Equally, you admired how handsome he was in that black sweater, and got lost at the sight of him that you almost trip on your wat to his side. Almost.

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you in check.” Lightheartedly, you set an alarm in your smartwatch. “You got me until midnight, love.” 

The two of you laughed. 

Today’s the big day. Tetsu’s birthday. And yes, the birthday part did get you to agree to his "proposal". 

In no time, you reached the little bar you rented. It was cozy and had a little dancefloor and disco lights that could make the activities later on at night extra special.

You assisted in arranging a party for him, inviting his close friends and some colleagues. No lies, you’re a little nervous. This was different from the strangers you’d been fooling. 

This is it...  

Kuroo pulled you closer to him, grabbing you by the waist. “You got this, sweetheart.” He brought your hand to his lips. You gave him a prim smile and he opened the door for you.  

You were welcomed by familiar faces which put you at ease, while he had a hand at the small of your back. All the worries you had earlier dissipated. Having Kuroo right next to you like this made you feel more confident.  

Though everyone had their eyes on the two of you, everything about this situation felt natural. The electricity that surrounded you...It was so strong. The chemistry you had the first time you met was glowing in front of everyone right now. You could tell that they looked at you and Kuroo like you’re made for each other.  

“Here comes the future Mr. and Mrs. Kuroo,” Kenma welcomed, mischievously knowing fully well what the both of you were up to.

Lev greeted, “Happy Birthday and Congratulations!”  

“What? I thought you two are already married!” Bokuto remarked, which shocked the both of you. “I mean... ever since you two got along, Kuroo talked about nothing but you. I even got a little sad because I thought I wasn’t invited.” 

Kuroo was just pretending not to be affected by all this, but he’s definitely dying on the inside as Bokuto ratted him out. Slowly, you tilted your head to sneak a glance at your “fiance”. 

“W-What?” he asked. 

You giggled and teased, “I didn’t know I’ve been on your mind a lot.”  

Kuroo just simply scoffed. This was totally not how he planned things to work out.  

Mr. and Mrs. Onitsuka finally arrived at the scene. Kuroo squeezed your hand as if you were going to face the biggest challenge of your life.  

“Kuroo,” The old man called as he patted Kuroo’s shoulder, “Happy Birthday, boy!” 

This was shocking. Mr. Onitsuka went from a scary strict dad to a friendly goofy one. It must be the effect of being with you.  

“Thank you, sir. Ma’am,” Kuroo acknowledged Mrs. Onitsuka’s presence, taking her hand and placing a kiss on her knuckles.  

“Hmm...You sure know your way with the ladies.” The older woman complimented.  

“Gives me headache every now and then,” you said, playfully, which made the old couple laugh.  

“You must be Y/N,” Mr. Onitsuka shook your hand. “Now, I know why you got this boy to settle down.” He patted Kuroo’s chest twice. “You’re such a lucky man to have someone like Y/N right here beside you.” 

“See, even you could tell how bad she got me.” Kuroo glanced at you with an unexplainable softness in his gaze. “So damn bad.” 

The way he looked at you, his smile, his eyes, almost stopped your heartbeat. You felt so little...small? Cute? Weak in the knees? Excuse me. You’re probably smiling like a preschooler having a crush right now, but this felt like a fairytale. Someone must stop you. 

“You both looked so good together I wonder how you fell in love with each other.” Mrs. Onitsuka mused.  

Kuroo confidently replied, “It was love at first sight...” 

You choked up a laughter at his statement. Love at first sight? Crazy.... 

He raised a brow at you with a vexed and hurt expression on his face. 

“Hey, now! It sounds like a Hallmark movie. You can’t blame me,” you reasoned out.  

“But it was the truth!” 

Kuroo took a long and deep inhale. His eyes refused to look back at you as he explained, “When we met for the first time to finalize our partnership for the Volleyball video game project, I really thought you’re beautiful, and as lucky as I am, you’re also smart, funny and someone whom I found comfortable to be myself with.” 

Smiling, you recalled that moment. It wasn’t only him who felt that way that day. “Yeah...that’s...” ...what you felt too. You almost forgot this was all just a pact.  

The two couples found your bickering very amusing, which roused their curiosity even more. “Well...let’s go to the proposal. How did our lady’s man right here propose?” 

“I first asked her to marry me during the successful launch of our first project.” Kuroo shared to spark a memory in you, bashfully rubbing the back of his neck. 

“What?” 

“You really can’t remember?” He complained. 

You explained, “I thought you’re just talking about our next projects to come.” 

He gave you a stare of disbelief like you’re the stupidest, silliest girl alive. 

You paused for a moment, trying to grasp what happened in the past when Mr. Onitsuka cut your musing with a laugh. 

“Those were the days...” Mrs. Onitsuka admiringly commented.  

Mr. Onitsuka sighed. “I guess we’ll leave you two alone then.” 

You and Kuroo bowed your heads as gesture, watching the older couple take their seats.  

A sigh of relief escaped the both of you and you looked at each other chuckling.  

“Let’s go?” Kuroo invited, taking your hand to pull you close to him until he had an arm around your waist. 

You nodded your head, giggling. For the rest of the night, you did nothing but that. He was greeted from time to time, but he’d always return his attention to you. He pulled your chair close to him and playfully fed you with spoonfuls that had your mouth full—ridiculously full that you were swatting his arm almost non-stop.  

You didn’t drink anything alcoholic, but it felt like you were tipsy. You didn’t know where this endless happiness was coming from. It’s that free bubbly feeling that just fizzled out inside you. You were always playful and childlike around Kuroo, but there’s something in this moment that was just different. It was like you were set free–free to express whatever it was you wanted to for a long time.  

Kuroo rubbed your belly, “Looks like our little peanut is getting bigger now.” 

You both laughed at his teasing. “It’s ‘cause you’re feeding me a lot, dummy!”  

“What can I say? I’m just simply being a good provider. Making sure that the love of my life is well-fed and happy.” He boasted and you rolled your eyes.  

Kuroo was so close to you, the warmth of his body surrounding you in full as he had you caged all to himself. Your body moved on its own and you laced your arms around him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. All of a sudden, you didn’t want to let go.  

You didn’t know why, but your heart was about to burst at any moment now. He’s right. You’re... “Happy...” You said with a muted voice. “Birthday, Tetsu.” 

Kuroo embraced you back and even tighter, closing his eyes firmly while he was holding you so close like you’re something that could melt away in his arms at any moment. “I’m happy. I’m very very happy right now, Y/N.” 

He parted a bit, cupping your face with both hands. You searched for his eyes, and he probed yours. Your gaze shifted to his lips while his did the same thing, lingering a little on yours. You swallowed.  

What is this? 

Kuroo bit his lip. His eyelids were getting heavy as he was reaching forward. You had your lips parting a bit, just enough so you’re breathing from the space between.  

What’s happening? What’re you anticipating? 

Slowly, your noses touched. 

Just a little bit more... 

But the speaker close to you started blaring, shocking you both from your little moment and made you laugh instead.  

Kuroo stood up and extended a hand, “Care for a dance?” 

You accepted, taking the dance floor with him. He had his hands on the sides of your waist as you both swayed to the music. Your eyes were not leaving each other’s as you both got lost in the moment, cheeks hurting from the smile that won’t just fade away. 

“Screaming, I testify that we'll survive the test of time they can't deny our love.” The lyrics blazed all over and you let yourselves loose, singing the song together. “They can’t divide us. We’ll survive the test of time. I swear that I’ll be right hereeee!” 

You both burst out laughing at each other with how your voices cracked, failing to hit the high note.  

“I don’t know why it feels like I’m drunk right now,” Kuroo pondered fondly.  

“Drunk on me?” You teased, recalling what he said on the phone last time. 

“Most likely,” he smirked and returned, “You know I didn’t have any alcohol.” 

You laughed. “Yes, because that mouth of yours may run some BS again.” 

“Oh...” He scoffed and rebutted, “You speak as if my mouth is only good at talking.” 

Your quirked a brow up. “What else would it ever be good at?” 

You’re really getting him so bad like this, huh.  

The look in his eyes turned dark and he bit his lip. He stopped dancing, pulled you closer and whispered, “A lot of things.” 

His gaze slickly traveled down your lips thirstily taking in how he wanted them so bad. He grazed back to pin your eyes with a serious stare that showed how he’s already at his limit. You gulped, air got stuck in your chest. You were lost at the sight of his handsome face being accentuated by the colorful lights that you failed to ready yourself when he placed a hand behind your head and brought your lips together. Your eyes automatically closed, arms snaked around his body as he had a hand at the small of your back. Your lips danced, gobbling each other passionately, intensely. You’re taking one another’s breath.  

At that moment, only the two of you existed, intoxicated by each other’s taste and fully consumed by the fire inside you that finally came blazing after a long time being kept hidden. 

Miya Atsumu whistled. “Man, this got me frustrated.” 

“Ugh, get a room.” Oikawa chided, bitterly. 

“Just admit you’re jealous nobody wants to kiss you that way,” Iwaizumi rebutted while Kenma had his phone up, streaming the entire show.  

Your smart watch started alarming, cutting off your kiss. You glanced. It’s already 12 o’clock, which brought you back to reality. This...This was all just an agreement. An odd stabbing pain hit your chest. You looked around and the Onitsukas were nowhere to be found. They must’ve gotten home already. Your heart was knocking loudly in your ear, and you just looked at Kuroo painfully confused. 

All these emotions... 

“Excuse me,” you said, and briskly walked outside the hall.  

Your hands were cold and trembling as you placed them over your lips. It’s done now. You couldn’t run away from it anymore. For so long, you’d been telling yourself it was all just friendship even if you knew that all this time, the person you wanted to be next to you was just him.  

With this heavy feeling in your heart, you knew you wouldn’t be able to handle denying anymore. You love Tetsurou more than just a friend. 

“Y/N!” You heard him called out, and you shut your eyes firm.  

You’d just end up broken if you’d keep on pretending. 

Kuroo held your elbow, and you were swept away when he spun you around so you were facing him. He had you in his arms, with his hands clasped at the small of your back. 

“Tetsu...” You placed a hand on his chest, putting up a boundary. “Mr. and Mrs. Onitsuka went home already.” 

“And so?” He answered, noting that you’re not pushing him away. 

“I-It’s already past 12,” you reasoned out with a shaky voice. 

He bumped his head into yours. “We can have it extended, you know?” His tone was almost begging.  

You chewed on your bottom lip. “What do you mean?” Your heart stammered so hard against your ribcage.  

“The love at first sight, the proposal...they’re all real for me, Y/N.” His voice was staggering that you could feel how nervous and scared he was. Scared of losing you and letting this moment slip away. He might not get another chance. “I slipped up that you’re my bride-to-be because that’s what I’ve been wanting to happen all this time.” He ran the tips of his fingers across your cheek. “I love you, Y/N and should’ve shown you how much a lot earlier”  

“Oh, Tetsu...” you smiled at the brink of tears. “You’re such an idiot!” You lightly smacked his shoulder and scolded, “I thought I’m gonna be single forever because of you, dummy!” 

You both laughed, finally feeling the freedom of having things all let out in the open. 

Leaning close to your face, he teased you with his lips lightly grazing against yours as he spoke. “You’re still not answering me...” he muttered under his breath. “It’s past midnight now. Are we extending?” 

You smiled against his lips and asked, “For how long?”  

Kuroo grinned, pressing your noses together. “Indefinitely.” 

And you answered him with a kiss, knowing that you both won’t have anyone standing next to you aside from each other, indefinitely.  

𝑐𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 w/ my fellow kuroo babes @mayarii-darling @sookisaurus @tetzoro @shidouryusm @kuroosexuall @jotatetsuken @boosyboo9206 💋

© quirrrky 2023 - All rights reserved. No work shall be reproduced, reposted, modified, translated in any form or by any means.

[plzfeedmebread]

Revenant - Chapter 1

word count: 4392

Pairing: Colonel Miles Quaritch x Female! Wife! Reader Warnings/Tags: None

Chapter Summary: You discuss the mission a bit more in depth, and visit someone very important to you.

[Masterlist] - [Previous Chapter] - [Next Chapter]

In Tenebra Fidemus - In darkness we trust. In Luce Vigemus - In light we thrive.

---

“Do you have any questions, [Y/N]?” James throws the last file into the fire. He assures you information will be clearer and more readily available once you touch down moon side.

“What of communication? How long is the delay to reach Earth?”

“Ah. You’ll be pleased to know that the Superluminal Communications used by the RDA allow for instantaneous interstellar communication between worlds. And naturally, we have set up our own private networks.”

Your eyes widen slightly at this. You had thought communication took as long as the commute; 6 years. You are happy to be wrong.

“There is a drawback, however, in that you can only send three bits of information per hour, and at the cost of $7,500 per bit. So do keep it as concise as possible, won’t you? And only when necessary.”

“Of course, James. Who shall be my contact on world? What of supplies? Gear?”

“Your on-world Handler shall be a woman by the name of Paz Socorro; a pilot with SecOps. She will be responsible for meeting any and all of your needs. Now in regards to your cover…”

James retrieves a thin black folder from his desk, handing it to you.

“You have two options. One – you will arrive as a Magistrate of the Interplanetary Commerce Administration. It is by their hand that the RDA has a monopoly on Pandora and the export of her resources. You will be there to oversee that the RDA adheres to the strict rules set by the ICA, less their monopoly be revoked. You will be given complete authority over the entire base in this instance; thus you shall be able to move about unhindered. We will also assign Miss Socorro as your personal pilot for the duration of your stay. The downside here is that, by being in such a position of authority, you will have eyes on you constantly. You may also encounter resistance from some personnel in both SciOps and SecOps.”

You nod quietly as he explains further.

“Two – you will be a bioengineer, sent at the behest of the RDA to work alongside Grace’s team. You will be researching ways to utilise the planets flora and fauna to combat disease, prolong human life, perhaps chemical warfare if you feel so inclined. We will forge the necessary scholarly documents as required. In this position, you will be far more inconspicuous; just another member of the SciOps team. However your interactions with Miss Socorro will be lessened, as we cannot guarantee she will always be your designated pilot in the field.”

You nod, crossing your arms as you consider the two options.

“What would you suggest, James?”

“Honestly? Option one. I believe it will make your life easier. No one will question your decisions, and even if they perhaps did, you may simply ask them under who’s authority do they operate. Anything you do, can be under the guise of the ICA’s interests, and never will you have to explain your reasonings. Conversely, you may use your position as a bioengineer to gain access to invaluable research on deadly fauna and how it could be used to eliminate your target. Either way worry not; you needn’t give your answer just yet. You have until tomorrow night to come up with the decision.”

“Tomorrow evening. A shuttle will collect you from your apartment at 2300 hours.”

‘That soon?!’ That left you barely any time at all to tie up any loose ends here on Earth. Without any true way to estimate the length of time you’d spend away, you wanted to make sure you left nothing behind undone.

“Time is of the essence my dear. Here, some light reading for you before your long slumber.” He hands you a book detailing the Na’vi language; aptly named the same.

“It’ll be lonely without you here…Try and come back in one piece won’t you? In Tenebra Fidemus.” He half bows with a hand flat on his heart.

“In Luce Vigemus.” You mimic his gesture. “Thank you James, for all you have done for me and mine. I will not disappoint.”

“I know...Good luck, [Y/N], and stay safe.” He places a firm hand on your shoulders, and you look up. Your eyes meet piercing silver. You commit his face to memory; the thick grey mop of hair he keeps styled back, the wrinkles strewn on his face, the crookedness of his mouth and the crease in his eyes when he smiles. Time has been unrelenting, aging him like fine wine.

He is old, you realise, and you suddenly ponder if he’ll be there to greet you upon your return. A round trip would be over a decade, and that’s without factoring in time spent planet side. The realisation sits heavy on your heart, for you now are certain this is perhaps the last time you shall see your father figure. Although he was the one to pull you into his dark world of blood and shadow, he still did more for you than your birth parents ever did.

You jump at him, wrapping your arms around his mid, burying your face into his chest. By sheer force of will you do not cry, but your shoulders shake still.

Words remain unspoken, unneeded, as he wraps his arms around you in turn. He knows precisely what you’re thinking. He holds you for a moment not yet long enough.

“Go. Before I try and change your mind.” He gently pushes you from him. You take his hand, squeezing the back of it to your cheek. Your eyes meet once more, and with a final determined nod, you turn and briskly walk out of the suite.

You don’t look back.

---

Descension was no less easier.

Your new mission weighs heavily upon your mind. You have faced dangers untold and hardships unnumbered in your pursuit of betterment. But to be pulled nearly 4 and a half light years away? Unthinkable. Inconsiderable.

But of course you had agreed; in actuality, there was little choice to be made. Denying would look poorly upon both you and your handler for a start, and you were not about to tarnish the reputation of the man that essentially raised you. More importantly, you thought of your dear brother, Tom.

As smart as he was, he was not built for combat. He was decidedly the smarter twin. Academically gifted , the man was inundated with PhD honours. He deserved the safety of his books, the certainty of walls and structure. What kind of sister would you be then, if you let his gentle soul venture into these uncharted wilds, leaving him at the mercy of this xenosanctuary?

Thus your choice was clear; you must accept the contract. You gave yourself a secondary mission then; eliminate all who would threaten the safety of your brother. From the lowest grunt, to The Director themself; no one would be spared your golden stiletto blades.

Family above all else.

---

A shuttle awaits you as you exit the premises after a quick shower and wardrobe change. You inform the AI of your destination, and with monotone acceptance, you’re off into the skies.

A song you don’t recognise plays, but you enjoy the feeling of the dark bass as it pulses through your bones.

Far off in the distance, thick grey clouds reach up towards an unseen sky. Deep orange cuts through the effervescent neon sea; the remnants of your last mission set ablaze.

You peel your eyes from the scene, dragging your gaze over the city below. Flashing lights, dancing holograms. The people move as one; a single living organism splintering itself into every nook and cranny, invading the dark crevices below.

And somewhere in this hell of concrete spires and minds of metal, your two brothers reside.

---

Tom’s apartment complex resides somewhere in the nicer part of town; if you can even call it that. The shuttle drops you off at a designated landing zone, several floors above where you need to be.

The moment your heel touches down, you’re off in a hurried gait. You become one with the crowd, pirouetting through the sea of warm bodies, avoiding their touch as you weave through. The air is thick, laden with the stench of garbage, street food, and something sickly sweet.

You pay no mind to the AI holos that vie for your attention, their faux voices disappear into the background as you press forward.  Advertisements in a language you don’t understand lick at your ears from all directions, drowned only by the sound of the locals around you; drunks arguing with any who look at them wrong, the not so sound of mind and their unintelligible ramblings, users openly abusing on the streets, even the faint moans wafting on the air from dark corners unseen.

You hate this cesspool of debauchery and sin. But time and time again, your brother refuses your offers to live with you. Your apartment is high in the clouds, far away from the lower dregs of society. It would be much safer you insisted, pleaded, but your brother is as stubborn as you are deadly. He doesn’t want to rely on you, wants to be able to stand on his own two feet. An intellectual prodigy, you often wonder if common sense was perhaps lost on him. Never the matter, you had him under constant surveillance. Thanks to your connections, the criminals operating in this sector know the resident of this apartment is off limits – no exceptions.

You arrive to his front door. With your knuckles, you perform a rhythmic set of taps; a secret signal to let him know it was safe to open, and whom to expect. You hear hurried footsteps from inside, a loud thump followed by muffled cursing. There is the distinct sound of things being knocked over, followed by more footsteps, and the fumbling of several locks. The door is wrenched open, and you are greeted with the flushed face of your beloved brother.

“[Y/N]!!!” He exclaims, grabbing you by the hand and pulling you into a hug. You return it with equal enthusiasm.

“Tommy! Sorry, did I come at a bad time? I hope I didn’t wake you.” You step into the apartment, closing the door and reengaging the  multitude of locks.

“No not at all! I’ve just been going through some of my notes from my dissertation.” He busies himself with picking up scattered papers and books strewn along the floor; no doubt the result of the scuffling you heard before. You make yourself comfortable on the couch.

“Don’t you already have a PhD?”

“Yeeeeees, but one can never be over prepared! Grace Augustine is a world renowned Xenobotanist and Xenolinguist. I have to cover all my bases if I want to impress her!” Your heart melts and your expression softens when you see the twinkle in his eye, and hear the fire in his voice.

“Tommy – you’ve already impressed her. You start training next year! I’m sure she’s just as excited for you to get there, as you are.”

“Maybe you’re right…” He gives you a shy smile, a small huff of a laugh leaves him as he rubs the back of his head. His expression morphs to confusion though as he gives you a thoughtful look.

“Hey, it is pretty late...What did you come by for? Not that you’re unwelcome or anything! It’s just, you know, later than usual…”

You cover your mouth as you giggle at his fumbling.

“Nothing bad, don’t worry! It’s good news actually!”

Tommy ceases his cleaning, and comes to sit beside you. He faces you, giving you his undivided attention.

“Soooo you know how I have that government job that I’m under strict contractual obligation to not divulge, under any circumstance, to anyone, ever?”

“You mean the very suspicious career that Jake and I are both convinced is actually you working as a high-class escort for the billionaires that run the world? Yes, please do go on.”

You make an offended gasp, but laugh as you playfully punch him in the arm.

“AAH! No! Stop! I’m sorry! I bruise easily!”

The two of you are in a fit of giggles as you continue to shove each other, which then devolves into the two of you grabbing couch cushions and start wailing on one another.

Tom holds up his hands in surrender, yielding to your superior strength. The conversation resumes once the two of you become calm once more and the laughter dies down.

“As I was saying—I’m being shipped off-world for my next big project.”

“Oh? Which colony are off to? Somewhere in the Zeta quadrant?”

You shake your head. You let him fire off a few more guesses, enjoying the frustrated look slowly developing on his face as he wracks his brain for an answer.

“Try something a little closer to home. Something you might one day be, intimately familiar with, as it were.”

He stares at you, brow furrowed with confusion.

Realisation then hits him, eyes widening.

“Noooooo…”

“Yeeeeees,” there is a tease in the tone of your voice as you nod with a widening smile.

“[Y/N]! Are you serious?! This is amazing!” Without warning he has you trapped in another hug, vigorously swaying side to side.

“I have so many questions! When are you going? What will you be doing? Will we be at the same RDA base? Is the government giving you your own Avatar? Have you been practising the Na’vi language? Have you even started? Would learning it even be beneficial to whatever it is you’re doing there?! What—”

“Tom!” Both of your hands are immediately cradling his head. It shuts him up instantly.

“Breathe bro. You know damn well I can’t answer, ANY of those questions! Ah well, except I’m actually getting flown out tomorrow night…”

“Tomorrow?! That’s so soon…” Tom grabs your hands in his, slowly lowering them to his lap. His eyes are cast downward. You can see his pupils shifting rapidly as his mind races with unknown thoughts.

Quickly his on his feet, releasing your hands. He sprints off into his room without a word. You call after him.

“Tom…?”

“One sec!”

After a few minutes, he’s right back in front of you, cradling a small black box.

“I was gonna wait till your birthday to give this to you—but seeing as I won’t see you for a few years…” He holds the box out to you.

The material is soft velvet, smooth under your skin. You let out a faint gasp when your eyes see the contents within.

A small pendant of silver, fashioned into the shape of a rose, with a ruby fastened into the centre; tied to a thin silver chain.

“Tom, it’s beautiful.”

“You’re welcome.” He gives you a self-assured smile, clearly quite pleased with himself. You turn around and he helps fasten it around your neck. It sits comfortably just below your clavicle.

“Thank you, you really didn’t have to do this.”

“I know…But I wanted to give you something special, now that I can afford to. It’s made of platinum by the way, so it’s nice and durable.” You wordlessly nod, putting the small black box into your jacket pocket. Tom grabs both your hands in his, holding them up in the space between you two.

“…Listen. You always took good care of Jake and I, ever since…Well you’ve acted not only as our big sister, but also filled the shoes of mom and dad. And you know what? I’m happy it was you there, and not them. Seeing you work hard, coming home at ridiculous hours, but still finding time to spend with us? It must’ve been hard, having to grow up so fast…But you were always smiling—Hell I don’t remember you ever complaining, even when we were being brats for no reason…You’re one of, if not, the strongest person I know.”

There comes a painful throb in your chest, the soft silk of his words wraps itself around you, squeezing. Your eyes glisten with the promise of tears, but you hold steadfast to your emotions.

“Look, all I’m trying to say is, thank you. Thank you, for taking care of me. Without you, I wouldn't have gotten all those scholarships, wouldn’t have had the drive to get my PhDs, and probably wouldn’t be sitting in front of you right now. So, my beloved big sister [Y/N], thank you for being my family. I love you.”

And the dam breaks.

You crash into him, hugging him with all your might. Tears flow freely down your face as you wail uncontrollably. Hearing him say those things, suddenly makes everything you have done, everything you have sacrificed, worth it all. There is an almost indescribable feeling that washes over and through you. It brings about a peace you hadn’t known you needed. It was a reassurance that your brother was going to be okay—his future was secure, thanks you both yours and his efforts; all in spite of the rough start you had in life.

“TOOOOOM!!! IT’S OKAY!!! I’D DO IT ALL AGAIN FOR YOU GUYS!!! I LOVE YOU TOOOOO!!!” You bawl out, still crying.

Tom laughs as he pats your back.

---

“Here, just TAKE it. It’ll give me peace of mind!” You hold out your spare apartment keycard. He sighs at your antics.

Some time after you had finally calmed down, you brought up the idea that he should live in your apartment while you are away; look after the place as it were. He wouldn’t have to pay rent, as that was covered by your job, and it would be in a safer neighbourhood. Still he fights you on this. You pout at him, puffing your cheeks.

“You owe me for making me cry!”

“Oh my GOD fine! Give it here!” He grabs the card, and immediately you face turns to a victorious smile.

“Good. I’ll be gone by tomorrow, so you can start moving your stuff in the day after.”

Tom nods but stifles a yawn at the same time. You cast a glance at the clock on the wall, realising the time.

“I should probably head off then, it’s getting rather late, and you clearly need your beauty sleep.”

He swats your arm playfully, and calls you something in a language you don’t recognise as the two of you make your way to the door.

“What did you just call me?”

“Ha! It’s Na’vi for ‘moron’. Even if you don’t need to learn the language for your job, I suggest you do. Because even if we’re not at the same base, you better believe I’m going to annoy you every chance I get! Even if it has to be over comms.”

You roll your eyes at him as you undo the various locks. With the door open, you turn to your brother once more. You pull him into one final hug. This time the two of you remain quiet as you embrace.

Your stomach flips, an uncomfortableness settles deep within. This goodbye feels far too final, and you do not like that.

Hesitantly do you remove yourself from his embrace, taking a small step back and out into the cold.

“I’d say goodbye, but that doesn’t feel right. So, I’ll see you later?”

He gives you a confident smile.

“Yeah…See ya later [Y/N]. Have a safe trip home. And a safe journey too. Keep Pandora warm for me.”

With a tiny wave, you turn and slowly start the ascent to the shuttle bay. Before you disappear behind the next flight of stairs, you turn to meet his gaze once more. The two of you share one final wave and an exchange of smiles.

He knows you won’t move first, and so you watch him disappear safely behind his apartment door.

---

The penthouse is dark when you arrive. You remove your shoes, leaving them in the entryway. Your hands glide over the walls as you meander into the living room, collapsing on the couch.

You lay there for a few moments, idly playing with the pedant on your chest. You can feel sleep tugging at the recesses of your mind, threatening to take you in a moments notice. With a grunt you sit yourself up. You know you have to call Jake now; you’ll be far too busy tomorrow.

You heart feels heavy in your chest as you think of him. He was deployed into active service in Venezuela a few months back, and contact with him is few and far between. The odds of him picking up are unlikely, but you attempt to establish a connection anyway.

It rings and rings, but there is no answer. The AI offers for you to record a video message.

You sigh in defeat, saddened that you would not be able to speak with him before you leave. For you it would feel like days, maybe weeks till you spoke with him next. But for him, he’d have to wait 6 years before he hears from you again. Guilt gnaws away at you, but the situation is out of your hands. Despite your pleas, he was insistent on joining the marines. He was more adamant than ever once he was accepted and started their rigorous training.

Often he would call you all hours of the night, once he retired with his fellow recruits to their bunkers. And even though he looked battered and bruised, his smile was toothy and genuine. The comradery of his fellows made known as they always invaded his personal space when he was chatting with you.

“Yooo Sully!!! Aye, bro! Is that your missus?!” The face of a stranger pushes against Jake’s as they try and get a better look at you on the comm pad in his hands.

“No you dick—that’s my sister! Urgh, [Y/N] this is Waitara. Waitara, this [Y/N] my SISTER.” You hide your mouth behind your hand as you let out a soft giggle.

“Hiiii Waitara. I hope you guys are taking good care of my baby brother?”

“Ayyyye, I promise, we’re taking good care of this one!” He puts one arm around Jake, giving him a noogie in the process. You once again laugh at your brother’s annoyed reaction as he tries to swat the other man away.

“Well then you have my deepest thanks Waitara.”

“Aww Miss! You can just call me Matiu, means ‘Gift of God’—”

“OKAY Romeo that’s enough! Stop trying to flirt with my sister!” Jake interrupts Matiu with a hard shove to the side. You can hear him laughing at Jake’s expense off camera. You faintly hear him call out to the others, Jake rolling his eyes, and before you know it, you’re being introduced to the others; much to Jake’s annoyance.

You on the other hand are all smiles and laughter as they inundate you with embarrassing stories of Jake, plus variations of “Miss Sully! Look what I can do!”

You smile at the memory, but remind yourself you need to record this now lest you fall asleep.

You hit the button to begin the recording, and your image appears on the screen.

You give an enthusiastic wave to the camera and a wide smile.

“Hi Jake! How are you doing? I hope everything is uhh, as good as it can be…” Your smile falters when you realise the man is in active duty, not training. He could very well be on the battlefield right now, under enemy fire. You bite your lip to stop yourself from over-thinking. Unlike Tom, Jake was always a fighter. Where Tom excelled academically, Jake excelled physically. His confidence was easily backed by the strength of his heart, and the strength of his fist. You shake your head and continue.

“Urgh sorry. I know you’re on active duty right now and it probably sucks…But I have some good news! Uhh, though whether you think it’s good remains to be seen…Anyway! You know my job, government, classified, NDA yadda yadda. Well! I have been given a big new assignment to take on…And for it, they’re going to be shipping me off-world! It’s gonna take me 6 years to get there cuz it's about four and a half light years away…I was hoping to speak with you before I leave, but I guess the universe has other plans huh? I’d tell you where, but, ya know. NDA and all that…”

Unfortunately you couldn’t really speak of where you going, nor elude to what you were doing. Tom was also under restrictions in regards to his future work with the Avatar Program. The only reason he spoke of it to you was, one, you are his big sister and he was always going to spill the beans to you, risks be damned. But two, your ‘government job’ meant you were well entitled to be privy to such information. At least that’s how you spun it to him.

“Oh! I just came back from seeing Tom, look what he gave me, isn’t it pretty?” You lean in closer to the camera, showing off the pendant.

“Said it was for my upcoming birthday…” You go quiet again, but only for moment.

“Listen Jake. I don’t know how often, if at all, I’ll be able to get in contact with you once I touch down. It’s a pretty remote place, and the work I’m doing…Look I don’t want you to feel like I’m abandoning you here on Earth while I go, chasing the stars or whatever. Everything I do, I do for you and Tommy. I love you guys, so, SO much. You’re my precious baby brother, and there isn’t anything in the entire God damn galaxy I wouldn’t do for you. I hope you know that… I love you Jake. Please stay safe out there. Come back to me in one piece? Love you, and I’ll see you later…”

You hit stop on the recording, sending it in one go.

There is so much more you want to say, so much more you feel you should say. But your emotions are running high, and you feel so utterly drained from everything that has happened, compounded with your worries for the future.

With conscious effort you drag yourself to the bedroom, changing into you usual sleep attire.

You move to throw yourself onto the bed.

You’re asleep before your head even hits the pillow.

---

[Masterlist] - [Previous Chapter] - [Next Chapter]

---

Author's Notes: And so the adventure begins. Thank you to @mechformers for her constant support and feedback! <3 Apologies for grammatical errors, hope you all enjoy this first step.

---

Fic Tag List: @sofiebstar @winxschester @yhern05 @an0th3rsss @gamerxpfighter @to-earth-from-the-sun @exulqnsisxthoughts @sweetirilly @wolfgirl497 @thebeckyjolene @goddesslilithmoriarty @the-anjos @bitchykittenconnoisseur

---

Perma Tag List: [Interactive Post] alternatively reply below if you want to be tagged just for the story

@mechformers @wwebaby657 @zomerlovesme @girlnred @raving-raven-writing @meeeeep5 @imavaduh @mxn14 @ashy-kit @manymaria111 @johoevi @iamwh0iam @jadesmyname @lvangel98 @watertastesnice1 @belos-simp69 @wren-solos @pandoragalora @strbyallycow @so-this-is-a-thing-noww @grimistangel @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @ducks118 @graysonmalik2550 @p9scal @ohshititsfenharel @ourmurdermessiah @cocoaflare @sarcasticrandy @liyahsocorro

[walkawaytall]

bring back the turkey, you cowards

Weird thing none of you know about me: from about 2015(?) until about 2019 or so, I had a very specific and weird obsession: Lisa Frank's social media presence (and, to a lesser degree, Lisa Frank's collaboration deals clearly made in an attempt at making a comeback).

Now, I will go ahead and correct a commonly held misconception amongst the people who followed me on Facebook at the time: I was not obsessed with Lisa Frank the person (as mysterious as she attempts to be, I think I have her mostly figured out), Lisa Frank the manufacturer of my favorite childhood school supplies, or even Lisa Frank the company as it stands today (though this Jezebel article, Inside the Rainbow Gulag: The Technicolor Rise and Fall of Lisa Frank, is wild and I think everyone should read it; it may not hold true today since they've had so much change and turnover, but it's still fascinating). My obsession was primarily focused on Lisa Frank's social media presence. And that's because Lisa Frank's social media presence was batshit insane.

Keep in mind, when I first started following them on social media, they were not banking on Millennial nostalgia. They were still primarily selling school supplies. The adult coloring book (not adult like smutty; adult like...those therapy coloring books that were so popular ten years ago?) sold by way of an exclusivity agreement with Dollar General hadn't been announced yet, nor had workout gear or the SpongeBob collab (sold only at HotTopic). As far as anyone knew, Lisa Frank was still that rainbow school supply company whose target audience is nine-year-old girls.

Which is why all of the housemade "memes" were absolutely bonkers.

This is peak Middle-Aged Mom Humor, so why is it being presented to me by the company making pencils and folders for elementary schoolers?

Glad to know we are encouraging fourth graders to day drink.

This one isn't actually aimed at any particular age group; I just find it funny that captains of pirate ships are inherently pirates, so I don't know what this is supposed to mean.

He won't. He will not fly. He is a flightless bird. This is a terrible lesson and you are a homicidal mother penguin. (Also using slightly altered lines from poems without attribution is theft, but whatever.)

And the image that started my obsession:

This...isn't a joke??? What is this???

I don't know who was behind these posts, but considering how small the company was at that point, I always suspected that Lisa herself was recycling old artwork with the help of an intern or something and creating the social media posts...because it just sort of seemed like that's what was happening? I have no proof of this; it was just a vibe I got.

But, during that period of time, even though the posts were inscrutable and sometime just straight-up Minion Humor, they were at least interesting.

Well, I mean, sometimes they were interesting because they were like acid to the eyes.

Okay, and sometimes they were interesting but also sported questionable messaging about one's relationship with food and exercise.

Anyway, I digress. In 2019, Lisa's son Forrest Green (yes, her sons are named Hunter and Forrest Green) took over the social media presence and it became...very palatable for the masses, I suppose. It was a lot of photo edits of old boy band pictures with Lisa Frank designs superimposed on tshirts -- it was very nostalgia-driven and very much directed at Millennials and thus I lost interest, because if there's anything I hate, it's being the target demographic for a sales pitch.

Anyway, my point is that for several years in a row, Lisa Frank would post the same holiday-themed images, so I got used to seeing a certain Thanksgiving design that is, and I cannot prepare you enough, one of the most chaotic and hideous things you'll ever lay your eyes on. But it was tradition. They posted it like three years in a row, and then as soon as Forrest took over, this design was never posted again. And all I have to say on this Thanksgiving week of 2023 is: bring back the turkey, you cowards.

[lorwolf-salt]

Greetings everyone,

I am the former head moderator, the one whom A labeled a stalker and accused of many other horrendous things.

I admit I have handled the entire situation in the worst possible way. However, everything I've stated has been truthful, I have not lied, nor tried to manipulate the events that transpired or anyone. I tried to make up for them before, and I took full responsibility for my actions.

However, she is also accountable for her actions. She distorted the truth, lied relentlessly, and shared private conversations along with personal and sensitive information about me. If I were what she claimed me to be, I would have disclosed sensitive information about her that she shared with me previously. Before this, I had only ever criticized her as a developer, not as a person. It took me many months to decide to take the path you are now experiencing, and it took me some time to mentally handle seeing the conversations you are about to witness.

I regret that it had to come to this, but her lies painted me as a malicious and dangerous person, and her words haunt me constantly, and thus I feel that I must disprove her lies. Additionally, she claimed that my contributions to the team were useless and that I was terrible at my job. I will counter that as well; however, please keep in mind that there are still many things I will not share - regards to work and others as well. I have several documents, lists, and explanations on features, summaries of the community's wishes, economy, balancing, and other essential aspects that I am not sharing because I do not want them to use my work any further. And not just in that regard, there is always more evidence to support that she was lying about other things as well, but there are only so many messages I can mentally handle to see. 

On that note, I will also mention that they are using a lot of my work on the site without giving credits, even though our contract specified they would grant me that, along with 5$/hour of work. The final payment for 9 hours I have never received.

Also, I made sure to show at least part of the last message of the previous screenshot in a sequence. So unlike with A's screenshots, you know I am not twisting the events. And since she revealed her first name in the screenshots she shared, I did not bother covering that up.

In the months that happened since, I have come to see things more clearly. They were generally super resistant to all changes, and I have carefully explained several times that their game is leaning toward pay-to-win and is too grindy. I told them how to fix it — e.g., raise CAT token yield for 10, reduce MS item prices, make random rare drops, make it possible to find moonstones in the campaign, etc. The only time they really listened was with the EA backlash and when I told them to change the expansions to pebbles — only to revert it back to MS after I was fired. Their resistance to such changes makes me believe they intended to make the game pay-to-win and create a situation where people feel the urge to spend money to make progress. They are fully aware of what they are doing, as I explained how to do the opposite several times. This is confirmed by the sheer amount of merch and their sudden return for an MS sale. I also explained the importance of communication and several other things they failed to follow. With all the complex explanations I gave to them and how many times I told them the community's wishes, at this point, their behavior is not inexperienced but malicious.

Q https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1s0SF7w0BdS9JOJJhjwwXkht7ZfWSTmYz PS.: since I am sending it anonymously I will take a screenshot of this message and post it in the linked drive. It is unlikely that I will post again, however, if I do I will put a screenshot of that message to the drive as well. This is to ensure that no one will attempt to send messages in my name.

Drive

[biscuitblinkeu]

Settlement Agreement [2]

Park Chaeyoung x Fem!reader

……………………………….………………………………

Today is not your lucky day. What were the odds the woman you spilt coffee on earlier was your lawyer? (A beautiful one at that.)

Despite her expressionless face and cold eyes, her aloof demeanor, she was attractive: soft but bold features paired with freckles, model-like body proportions, and long (healthy) blond dyed hair. She wore another Saint Laurent outfit; this time a white-dotted black shirt with a black wool blazer, black shorts with a belt, chains, and tights.

She raises an eyebrow at your lack of response before moving further into the room. She sets her bag down, takes a seat, and pulls out a manila folder.

On the other hand, she didn’t know you were her plaintiff. She admits that her first impression was not good; when your coffee burned through her chest, the look you received back was…something. She tries to control her facial expressions but fails horribly most of the time.

It was indeed her fault for standing so close to you, the matters of that won’t be shared for now, though. Her original motive went out the window when you ruined her coat, touched her, and became a nervous wreck. She doesn’t like people like that, they’re tiring.

She feels like you’ll give her a headache— all her other clients did, she’ll have to look into it, maybe it really is a personal problem of hers. Or, that’s what her boss, Jisoo, says.

After shuffling around her folders some more she looks at you, who’s looking anywhere else, your gaze shys away from hers and you fidget uncomfortably in your chair. She lets a minute tick by, a sick part of her enjoying the way you squirm (like a worm). She taps the desk with a manicured nail twice to get your attention.

“Roseanne Park.” She says simply. Now you can put a name to her face.

Roseanne.

“Right. It’s nice to formally meet you.” You get out, your tongue feeling like lead and eyes finally meeting her brown one’s. You had a feeling she knew your name already.

“Likewise.” She nods curtly. Her voice has a mature drawl to it, almost hypnotic.

She opens the folder and flips through the small stack of papers and places one in front of you, “We can start now on filing the divorce papers— that is why you're here, yes?” And she asks this because some people set up appointments and don’t even know what they want to do, thus wasting her time. You nod and she continues, “You’ll have to fill out more forms due to you having a child, but right now we will do only one: your reasons for divorce. Later you will have to attend parenting sessions farther into this case. I suggest getting them over with because it’s a two month period.”

“Okay. Why do I have to go to parenting sessions? Is it required?”

“Yes, and that’s because they are designed to improve your child’s well-being following the divorce, it changes aspects of the way you parent. Divorce can make or break children in between, so even if you and your spouse are good parents, it’s precautionary.”

You look at the form she gave you, typical government papers, lots of boxes and areas you have to write in or on, reasons for divorce. She handed you a pen in case you wants to fill things in as you were talking.

“I guess I'll start telling you about my marriage and reasons for divorce now,” you take a breath and begin, “this would be my fifth year. I actually got married a couple months before I had my daughter. I just never thought I’d be sitting here, about to file divorce papers…” You trailed off, frowning at the paper. You always thought Jaylyn would be the one to break things off, not you.

“The man that I married wasn’t perfect, but he made me the happiest and made me feel loved unconditionally. Well, that lasted until he started—.” Your fingers grip the pen tightly, you didn’t want Roseanne to see how hard you’re trying to hold yourself together. You set the pen down in defeat and lean back in the chair, closing your eyes for a moment.

When you open them again, Roseanne is already staring at you expectantly, patiently waiting for you to continue. She was used to people breaking down talking about marriage, it was common in her field. Usually they’d cry, but you just seemed disappointed, and maybe a bit angry.

With a deep inhale and exhale you clear your throat again. “He got a new job, having gotten promoted, so he moved his work to another building. I don’t really know, or maybe I’m overreacting, but he changed after that,” you thought out loud.

Jaylyn would always talk about his coworkers, what they did, and said. It seemed like he was getting their habits. He started going to bars a lot more, leaving late in the night. He’d order you around before taking it back as if he’d realized what he did. Jaylyn would always have a reason he couldn’t come to family gatherings or Nala’s activities. He was distant, and at some point he started sleeping on the couch; avoiding your affection.

“He started hanging out with his new friends and I was happy for him, really. His other work place was a crap environment. We both knew what our marriage would be like, us both working. But we still tried to make sure our daughter grew up as happily as possible without either of us not around as much. Then he started missing her school plays and her football(soccer) games, lots of other things too. He comes home at random times without notice, he could be gone for a week and then show up, really.”

Roseanne leans back slightly in her chair, “If he’d been in an affair— not saying he was— or something else, would you report him? I need to know so I can make this go as smoothly as possible, but if you don’t want charges I can do that as well; no fault.”

You frown, almost going to shake your head no, but you stopped. You didn’t know. What if he did? What if— no. “I don’t know... There’s no reason for him to have done anything like that. He said he would never in his vows.” You didn’t sound so sure anymore.

“But I feel like I barely know him these past months, I don’t know what he's been doing either.” Roseanne hummed in response. She would put this on hold now and talk it over with Jennie.

“Any reasons why you know he’s not fighting the divorce?”

“Other than the ‘I want to make you happy’ speech…Well, I did play a part. More times than not, I stop talking about the important things and get caught up in trivial, surface level arguments and conversation that usually just go on till I get tired. Or just sweep it under the rug like the rest. I was that girl that dreamed of marriage, like in Netflix shows or not-so realistic movies. I created a ‘perfect’ vision in my head, didn’t have that, and it was just a lot of mitchmatch expectations— which I’m sure pushed my husband away. I became disappointed, and now I’m here. So, that’s probably one of the reasons.” You spoke guiltily, embarrassed, because partially, this was your fault.

She looked at you for a moment, her lips pursed. She seems to consider something before shuffling around in her folder. You think there must be something in your file that she’s looking for or reading, her fingers drum on the table in quick succession. It’s an unconscious habit of hers when she gets curious, an indication she’s about to…blurt out something.

"Why?" She asks suddenly, surprising you.

"What do you mean 'why' — why what?" You asked dumbly.

She looks at you again.

"Why," she repeated before continuing, "you moved from the United States to the UK, why?”

"I...I'm sorry?” You were thrown off by the random question, even more so when you're being asked to talk about the past. Noticing your reaction and her inappropriate question she recalls, “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking when I said that… Do you have any more questions? I’ve asked all of mine for today.”

“Um… How many times do I have to see you?”

“Four times a month is minimal, but depending on how complex your case is, it would be more. Oh, and don’t disclose anything we talked about to your spouse, expect him to do the same.”

You nodded and she looked at her watch. “I think that’s all for today.” You hummed before getting up. You shook her cool hand and walked to the door, halfway out you turned back to her.

“Thank you, have a good day.”

“Yes. You as well.”

You stepped out, and then it hit you. You had no idea what the way back was. You looked down both hallways, looking for a sign to remind you which way you came from…they looked the same. A familiar feeling started to appear, that worried feeling like when you would get lost in the grocery store because your father wasn’t where he said he’d be. You didn’t like feeling lost.

You felt like an idiot standing outside her door, in the empty hallways. As you were about to suck it up and see if you can find your way back, the door opened a crack and Roseanne’s head popped out. She didn’t look surprised to see you still standing there.

You felt heat crawl up your neck as she continued to stare at you. Casually, she stepped into the hallway and stuffed her hands in her pockets before glancing at you. “My apologies, follow me?” Then she started walking, you stood shocked for a few seconds before catching up and walking a little ways behind her due to her strides being bigger and faster. It was a hassle.

When you made it back to where the front desk was, you thanked her again. “Thank you for walking me back, I’m sure I would’ve gotten lost.”

“You definitely would have,” she replied quickly and you tried not to take her comment in a bad way. You expected a remark to follow that, but no. She looked like she was struggling to get her next words out, and eventually, “…tell me if I’m walking too fast next time.” She turned on her heel and left after that, leaving you no time to respond, but she did get a glimpse of your bright smile mid turn.

Roseanne made it down the hallway and took a left before making sure nobody was around and placed a hand to her chest. Her heart, pounding against her rib cage as if she’d sprinted or climbed up steps, was feeling odd. It was foreign. Her heart rate is usually normal, relaxed, never like this— you’ve done something to her.

Her first instinct was to get back to Jennie, because right now she was the closest. She also should be done with her plaintiff. Roseanne knocked on Jennie’s office door, a few seconds passed and Jennie called for her to enter. No one was in her office besides her, just like she suspected. When she stepped inside the attorney gave her a gummy smile, gesturing to the sofa across from her desk to the side of the wall. Roseanne sat down.

“Rosie! I wasn’t expecting you. Usually you call beforehand— not that I mind, what’s up?”

“Something is wrong with me.”

A/n: I’m sorry for the delay, and how short this chapter is. :(

Would you like to continue? ٩( 'ω' )و

Also, here’s the Pinterest board for this story:

[simfluencer-network]

Posedump | 28 (Non-Listed) Poses

Published by NotJustaBook on October 18, 2018

Hi guys!

I’m almost back from my break, but before the story continues, I thought I’d give you the first of two posedumps I’m planning. I’ve been making poses since 2014 (according to my pose folder, anyway), and because I’m both lazy AND a perfectionist, there’s a fair few poses I never released. Sometimes it was perfectionism getting in the way, but mostly just laziness. Since posedumps are pretty awesome, I figured – why not do it this way! Some of them are from 2014, which means they are wonky as HECK. It even includes what I think must be one of my first attempts at a couple’s pose – CRINGE 😀 Let’s have a look…

This is a dump consisting of 28 different poses, 25 for adults and 3 for kids. They are NOT list compatible, meaning you’ll have to use the poseplayer’s ‘Pose by name…’ function. The file contains:

The poses as a .package file

The animation files (.clip files)

Preview images with codes

A .txt file with codes and descriptions

Hugs! Warm, warm hugs 🙂

Let’s have a look at them all before I change my mind…

Please excuse the middle one – that’s the one I said was probably the first couple’s one I made. It’s bad, but I won’t shy away from my bleak past. Also, excuse the TERRIBLE name for the one on the far right. It was supposed to be used for someone who was pretending to be with the police (don’t ask), and thus the terrible name. I don’t know how you can be this cringe at 24, but there you go… I haven’t used these in any stories, though I still think the sleeping one can be massively useful!

These two were originally made for The Hartfields, my failed legacy. There’s not much variation in these apart from her mouth being slightly closed in the second. I have no damn clue why I needed one with her mouth closed a bit more, but uh… it’s there! You can see an example of it in use here:

Okay, before we move on, I’ll say something that’ll hold true for most of the poses to come: Man, these are really bad, look at how bad I was. There, I said it, and we can move on with pure facts. These were, yet again, made for The Hartfields. I realised after that I made poses that were something like these but less shit… I have no clue where they are, though, but if I find them I’ll include them in the next dump. Here they are in use:

For a pair of poses that was made waaaay back, for the Ithaca Legacy, the ones on the left aren’t too shabby, though they are a bit weird. They snap together, but they way they’re turned doesn’t make sense compared to the bed. There’s no excuse for the knees in the middle one, though, since it’s more recent. For shame. The one on the right is mostly a set of model poses, they were meant for Genevieve and Nadir and I used them on the blog for banners and such. The male stretches so he’s a little taller than the female. Here they are in action:

These next ones are from The Talented. The one with the two of them is odd. She snaps right into place on the bed, but he needs some tweaking with the alt-key. Here they are in action:

Finally some that leave me cringing a little bit less. The first set are from MVS gen 1 (see chapter here for previews). The other two should have been for Champion of Moonlight, but a re-write meant that I didn’t need them anyway. All three of these stretch the male sim to be taller than the female (and they do it badly – yikes).

These ones require the book from this set for the female to hold – or some other open book that can be placed in her hand. I was lazy when doing these previews and I didn’t have them in my game, so that’s how you get hover hands. Sorry – my laziness will be my downfall. (That or my old story folder. Not quite sure). You may need to use an OMSP to raise the book up – I honestly can’t remember, nor can I remember which book from the set I used. I used them in this chapter of CoM.

And finally – three poses for your adventurous kids. These were, of course, made for darling Marta for MVS gen 1. You can see two of them in use here. The third one I never ended up using. For the climbing one, I made a drain pipe from one of the fireplaces. It’s a basegame one with a long chimney. If you use moveobjects on to get the pipe off, it’ll fit with the pose, though you’ll likely need to move the kid/chimney around to make them fit – they don’t snap together.

Now, I hear you ask. Can I…

Edit these?

Yes! I included the animation files for that very purpose. Feel free to change them to suit your needs if you know how to do that.

Make them list-compatible?

Yes! If it makes your life easier, knock yourself out, you beautiful person, you.

Upload my edits/list versions?

Yes! BUT! I’d like for you to ask first. I don’t mind you uploading some where you’ve changed facial expression, faces, corrected bad stuff, or used them as a base for your own poses, but I’d like for you to ask first. It’s the polite thing to do. So is giving me credit, which I’d also like… even though some are so bad I probably shouldn’t admit to having made them.

With that out of the way, pleeeeeeeeeease, tell me if there are ANY issues with these. With so many poses, it’s easy to make mistakes, and I’ve been writing the codes two or three times during this, so I’m a little tired. The downloads are here:

Download (SFS, .zip)

Download (Box, .zip)

[mythicalartisttm]

Have you played botw2? If so, what do you think of it so far?

I've been watching playthroughs! I can't afford the game rn, but I hope to get it myself eventually! In part for the experience, in part bc the ppl I'm watching play are hardly looking in the direction I want to. A game with so many options means that no one will play the same way, so that means if I want the best TotK experience, I'll have to make it for myself.

That said, the game thus far is driving me nuts (/pos and derogatory).

First and foremost, the game is trying to sell the fact that Hyrule and it's founders only came into play just before the Imprisoning War??? Baby, I understand that Hyrule could have been refounded after Ganondorf came in guns blazing after having just squashed the Hero and Princess of Time, and so Sonia and Rauru would be rebuilding Hyrule and re-establishing the monarchy. That makes sense. But that's just straight up not the case! I could go over all the timeline inaccuracies right here but my brain hurts trying to put it into words. The LoZ timeline has been a mess for over 20 years but this is the first time it's contradicted itself without a fix from what I've seen.

Naming the king Rauru was a fun little detail though, I like that 🙂

Speaking of Rauru, I have only seen as much of him as the Great Sky Island and one (1) tear, but he's going into the Fictional Dads of All Time folder. Both a goat and a G.O.A.T. I do not know much about Sonia yet but I like her. Both the king and queen really scored on marriage partners imo.

Tulin, my son. I have not played the game but the AI is so darn good it's job and he's saved the guy I've been watching so many times. I do kinda wish we could've fought alongside Teba but dang, Tulin is not just good, he's a really fun character in his own right and I'm glad he's here.

I haven't as strong feelings about Yunobo but he is a delight to be around. Rolling him around and smashing stuff is quite fun as well.

Bonus that I've taken to naming the sage mimics. So far we have Terin and Shobae. I've already decided to name the next (last?) two Raja (pronounced "rah-hah") and maybe Po (Po and Sidon).

Mostly unrelated, but Tulin's champion ability reminds my of the LU Champion AU craze from a a while back! That was the first thing I thought of when I saw Tulin use his power for the first time and it made me chuckle.

It still doesn't feel real to have the name of Zonai popping up in so many places in-game. Like, wow. Ok. I guess this is happening. This has still not sunk in.

Speaking of which, did you know that the Zonai tech was originally Sheikah tech in development? I'm actually really glad that it got changed because using a different kind of tech with it's own distinct color/aesthetic not only separates TotK from BotW, but it also prevents the Sheikah tech from getting stale. I wish we could maybe see some more Sheikah tech aside from the towers and the Purah Pad though, just to make it feel like it hasn't totally up and left. I did see a comment on yt say that the ppl of Hyrule probably dismantled the divine beasts and other weapons so they never have to worry about the tech turning on them again. I think that's a good way of looking at it, although the removal of the towers felt highly unnecessary from an in-universe perspective imo if they're just gonna build new towers.

Side note that when that one character (I can't remember if it was Purah or Josha) called them Skyview Towers my SS brain went 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

There's for sure more I have to say but this is all I can call upon atm! Thank you for asking <3

[mrs-gucci]

Casting Couch {Charlie Barber x Reader}

author’s notes: hello, hello! I was driving home from work the other day and this idea just suddenly took over my entire thought process. so, naturally, I went ahead and wrote it up :)

warnings (what you see here is what you’ll get!): smut. the enemy of my enemy is my ally (with benefits). p in v sex. protected sex. rough oral sex. cum- swallowing.

(possible) tw’s: semi-public sex.

word count: 3.2k

charlie’s taglist peeps! {charlie currently doesn’t have any taglist peeps} my general taglist peeps! @frank-and-honey @shygirl268 @icarusinthesea​  @gildedstarlight�� @mrs-zimmerman @soldmysoulagain @roseepossee @pascalisfairyy​ @I-can’t-draw-faces @ahsoka1​ @babbushka​ @safarigirlsp​ (if you’d like to be added to or removed from any of my taglists, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist)

Two Years Ago.

“Y/N...she fucking did it again.” Nicole says as she barges through the door of hers and Charlie’s shared brownstone. “She got the fucking TV gig.”

Charlie’s eyebrows furrow a bit before looking up at his wife with an empathetic expression, setting the notebook and pen he’d been using down on the coffee table.

“Bummer. I really thought you had it in the bag.” He says, elbows on his thighs as he leans forward a bit, folding his hands. “There will be other roles; I wouldn’t worry too much. You win some, you lose some; that’s how it goes in this industry. You’ve taken plenty of roles from her.”

She sighs, nodding. “Yeah, I know, but this one I was excited about. And I really thought I had it, too. It just stung a little extra, you know?”

Her husband nods, patting the seat next to him on the couch. “C’mere, sit with me. We’ll have a glass of wine.”

Nicole gives somewhat of a dreadful grimace, a clear sign she really wasn’t interested. Charlie’s been noticing this for the past few months, her disinterest in being with him as much as she usually was, but he figured it was just her being tired. She’s been doing a lot of odd jobs to make some ends meet lately, so it’s probably a result of that.

“Are you sure?” He asks, a twang of longing sadness in his voice.

She nods. “Yeah, I’m just gonna go lay down for a bit.”

Charlie just nods, picking back up his notebook and pen, continuing to review and add to his notes from the day. 

“Let me know if you need anything.” He calls after her. “I love you.”

She only offers him a small smile over her shoulder in return before emerging into their bedroom, closing the door immediately behind her. 

Present Day.

It feels strange, holding auditions for a female lead. He hasn’t had to do so in almost a decade;  just yet another reminder of how much of his life has changed just in the past year.

The divorce had been painful, stressful, and he was honestly more relieved than anything when it finally came to a close, despite it not really turning out the way he’d hoped for in terms of custody over Henry. 

Luckily, he’s dove deeper into his one true love, directing, as a way to cope with the loss of everything he’d worked so hard to build for himself; the marriage, the 'American dream’ family and home he wished he’d had growing up.

Now, after six months of weekly therapy appointments and keeping himself busy with work, he’s feeling more like the old Charlie he was back before everything went to shit. Actually, he’s feeling like an even better version of that Charlie, the best version of himself there’s been in a while, perhaps even before he met and married Nicole.

The first audition comes onstage and Charlie can’t decide what’s worse, her off-pitch singing or her monotonous speaking voice. 

God, this was going to be a long fucking day.

-

You’d heard through the grapevine that the famed Broadway director had moved here to LA, and that he’d divorced his witch of a wife, Nicole. 

Nicole Barber had been your biggest rival ever since you swiped that first movie role away from her. She hates you, and you don’t particularly like her, either, thus your rivalry began. And it was pretty heated, too; the two of you were always trying to one-up each other.

It really was a back-and-forth battle, her swiping roles from you, you returning the favor; it was a game, to put it simply. Although lately, you’ve been getting more roles than she has, not that you’re complaining, and there’s a part of you that hopes she quits the business for good.

Word got around that Charlie is heading his first LA Broadway production and what better way to hit Nicole close to home than to show up at her ex-husband’s auditions? Even better, what if you got the female lead in her ex-husband’s production? Oh god, that would be fantastic, not only for the rivalry but also for your career.

You’ve been looking to branch out into more theater roles, and this is as good an opportunity as to dip your toe in the theater world water. Plus, you’re not necessarily complaining about having the chance to look at and work with Charlie Barber every day...

So you prepared your piece of dialogue and a section of one of the choice songs, heading over to the theater fifteen minutes before your set audition time. Your knee bounces as you sit in the waiting area, eyes running over your script and lyrics sheet one final time, solidifying it all in your memory.

Your name is called a few minutes later and you head out onto the stage, handing over your headshot and qualifications resume. The agent hands over your profile to the handsome director, but he doesn’t even really look at it, already knowing exactly who you are. A small smirk grazes his lips as he flips to a new page of his notebook, clicking the top of his pen.

“Whenever you’re ready, Miss Y/N.”

After you’re finished, Charlie scribbles one final thing in his notebook before looking up at you. His eyes trail over your figure for a moment, another smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Would you be comfortable coming back for a more intimate audition later this week? Maybe, Friday at four? I would like to get to know you better, see if you meet all of my... qualifications.”

The look in his eye tells you all you need to know about the true motivations behind his question. You nod, biting your lip.

“It’d be my absolute pleasure, Mr. Barber.” You purr.

He shifts in his seat suddenly and quickly crosses one leg over the other before opening up your folder, handing the top sheet to his assistant.

“Diane, go ahead and have Miss Y/N put down all of her contact information.” His gaze never leave you as he speaks to the timid-seeming young woman. “Make sure she gives her personal cell number.”

You pull a pen from your bag on the stage, clicking it open before Diane hands you the paper. As you write every means of contact you can think of, starting with your cell number, you playfully bite the end of the pen and tap it against your bottom lip, something that certainly keeps the already attentive director’s full attention.

“Thank you so much for this opportunity, Mr. Barber.” Your tone is innocent-sounding, but your gaze is anything but. It sends a chill down Charlie’s spine. “I promise I won’t disappoint.”

“Oh, I’m sure you won’t.” A small tug at one corner of his lip accompanies his response. “See you soon, Miss Y/N.”

You offer him a nod.

“Looking forward to it.”

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

In preparation for your upcoming...meeting with Charlie, you take a quick trip to the nearest intimates store, picking up a pretty little lace bra and panty set. Your lingerie wardrobe is long overdue for a bit of sprucing up, anyway.

When the time comes, you slip the fresh lace garments on before putting on your planned outfit, a cute-but-subtly-sexy low cut romper. You put on a light face of makeup, purely for professionalism’s sake, then head out with a small bag which contains various personal items as well as your script and composition page.

He’s not in his backstage office when you arrive, but he comes in a couple minutes later, a strong stench of cigarette smoke trailing behind him as he walks by your chair.

“I apologize for the delay. You weren’t waiting long, were you?”

You shake your head as he takes a seat behind the ratty oak desk, shifting a few small stacks of papers around on the heavily scratched surface.

“No, no I wasn’t waiting long.”

He nods, then folds his hands atop the desk, eyes flickering up to meet yours. For a moment, his eyes dart down to where your cleavage creeps out of your low-cut top.

“You’ve got the part.” Charlie says with a small smile. “You’re by far the best and most qualified audition we had yesterday, and I like the way you carry yourself. You’re exactly the type of person I like working with. Part’s yours if you want it.”

You’re overcome with joy, a wide smile spreading itself across your lips. “I’d love to be a part of this production, Mr. Barber. I’m really excited to get to work with you and the rest of the crew.”

“That’s great, I’m glad to hear it.” He nods, smile widening when as he processes your acceptance. His delighted expression falls after a few moments, replaced by one much more salacious.

“Now that we’ve gotten that part out of the way...I think you know why I called a meeting of such, uh, privacy.”

You smirk softly, shifting around in your seat slightly. “I believe I do.”

His feet plant on the ground as he pushes the rolling office chair out from under the desk, standing up and walking around the desk to tower over you. 

“Before anything happens, though, I want you to know that whether or not you do this with me will not affect my casting decision. Even if you decline, you still have the part.”

You nod before standing, quickly and swiftly, stepping forward to press yourself flush against him.

“Charlie?”

“Yeah?”

Your hands rest on his chest, neck craning slightly to look up at him. “Just kiss me, will you?”

He laughs, massive hand moving to cradle the back of your head before he bends down and connects your lips in a passionate kiss. There’s nothing tender or gentle about this embrace, it’s all tongue and teeth, raw lust coursing between your two bodies.

“Couch.” His voice is soft but husky.

“Unzip me first?” You ask, turning around so he can unzip you. He does, then his hands slide down to your hips and pushes you towards the leather couch tucked in the corner of his office.

The material squeaks when you’re laid down on top of it, head resting comfortably on the cushy fabric accent pillow as he climbs on top of you. He presses his hips forward while he tucks his face into the crook of your neck and plants kisses on the skin there.

Your eyes widen as his impressive bulge rubs up against your inner thigh and you quickly wonder how in the world you’ll be able to take him. His crooked teeth scrape over the taut muscles in your neck while his hands pull the backs of your romper down over your shoulders.

His hands grab and grope your breasts beneath where they rest in your nice bra, one you wore just for him, and your back arches slightly up off the cushions with a soft sigh. 

A small smile crosses his expression, teeth sinking gently into your neck. “I like the little noises you make for me, Y/N.”

“Yeah?” You smirk, running your hands through his hair. “Then I bet you’ll like my moans, too. If you think you can draw them out of me, that is.”

He laughs softly, sucking and licking at at the place his teeth have just abused. “Is that a challenge?”

“Well, it’s more like an invitation to prove yourself, but ‘challenge’ is also a good word for it.”

Charlie pulls away with a smirk, shaking his head as he sits back on his haunches and begins to unbuckle his belt.

“Brat.”

Once he’s undone his pants and pulled them down enough to expose himself to you, he leans down once more and pulls your romper the rest of the way off, leaving you completely bare, minus your undergarments. His eyes roam your figure for a moment before he dips a hand beneath the patch of black fabric nestled between your thighs.

Your breath hitches as his fingertips swipe over your erect clit, giving it a few little circles before yanking the panties off your hips and down your ankles, tossing them down alongside your previously-discarded romper.

His eyes widen in realization, cheeks flushing pink.

“Do you have any, um, protection?”

You smirk, nodding as you sit up and pat his chest. “Indeed, I do.”

He crawls off of you and you walk over to your purse, grabbing a condom from the mini-stash you keep in your wallet, the one you replenished just minutes before you left the house this afternoon. He takes it from you and pinches the tip, rolling it down his shaft. For a moment, you’re worried that it isn’t going to fit, but he rolls it on with little issue.

His hips press forward, then, entering you slowly but steadily with a soft grunt. You whine as your insides stretch out around him, hands reaching up to tangle in his hair.  “S-Shit.”

“You’re really fucking tight, jesus.” He growls between gritted teeth, jaw screwed shut as his hips begin to move. “I haven’t fffucked anyone in a while, Y/N, so I can’t guarantee that I’ll last very long.”

You nod, softly. “It’s alright, Charlie; it’s been a little while for muh--me, too.”

Your eyes flutter shut and your face begins to scrunch up with each time his fat cockhead brushes up against your cervix. His pace increases after a minute or so, a consistent slap-slap-slap noise now echoing off the drywall with each snap of his hips. 

“You’ve got a nice little pussy, you know that? Always knew you would be, too, knew you’d be a good little cccocksleeve.”

You moan shakily as he adjusts his position, towering over you and pinning your wrists above your head with one of his large hands. Your body begins to bounce, tits, thighs and tummy jiggling each time he thrusts in. 

He’s starting to sweat, a few dark hairs sticking to his dimly-glowing forehead, more and more accumulating there as his hair rocks back and forth in time with the rhythm of his hips.

“Touch yourself, now, rrrub your little clit.” His voice is getting shaky as he draws nearer to climax.

Nodding, your hand slides down between your joined bodies until your fingertips settle onto the small bundle of nerves. The hand that’s still weaved in Charlie’s locks clenches and he lets out a sudden deep growl, hips stuttering for a moment.

“Ooooh, Charlie.” You moan, hips lifting and gyrating against both his cock and your fingers.

“God, fffuck I love this cunt.” A vulgar squelching sound knits itself within the quilt of your salacious symphony. “Wrapped around my cock like a vice, gonna pull the fucking cum right out of it. Swear you get tighter each time I push back in...christ, I’m not gonna last.”

Your fingers circle your clit faster, setting a desperate pace, one that almost matches his quick and sloppy thrusts. You’re close now, too, and it doesn’t take much longer for your orgasm to hit.

You cream around him with a long moan and a string of various other noises, with a few profanities thrown in as well. The product of your release coats his shaft in a pearlescent sheen, dripping down his ball-sack soon enough. 

The sensations your climax creates around Charlie forces him to pull away almost immediately after, quickly yanking the condom off and onto his office floor, squeezing the base of his flaming red length. 

His hand seizes your jaw tightly, thumb pressing down on your tongue, prying your mouth open. “I’m gonna fuck your mouth and shove my cum down your throat, and you’re gonna take it all, isn’t that right?”

You’re nodding instantly, slacking your jaw to open even further in preparation for his upcoming intrusion. He smirks.

“Good. Now, on your knees.”

He sits down where you once laid, lazily pumping his throbbing length as you get into position between his spread legs. He pulls your hair up into a makeshift ponytail with his hand, then lines you up with his cock and eases your mouth down onto him.

“Thaaaaaat’s it, oh, gooooood girl.”

You start gagging about three quarters of the way down his shaft, but he still keeps pushing until you’ve got the whole thing in your mouth. Your jaw’s already getting sore as he begins thrusting upwards, fucking your mouth. 

Tears swell in your eyes and begin to spill down your cheeks the more he goes, mascara surely ruined and running down your face. The sight only arouses him further, a low groan rumbling through his puffed chest.

He’s trying so hard to keep himself together, to stave off his orgasm for as long as he can manage, but soon he finds it next to impossible to hold back. His bottom lip quivers ever so slightly as his length begins to twitch, balls drawing up.

“Fuck, I’m gonna--”

You taste and feel the salty ropes shooting down your throat before he can even finish his warning.

“Ah, fffuuuuck.” His head falls back against the couch cushions, hips bucking gently as each bit of release is spilled into your mouth. His grip on your head relaxes after he’s finished, cock softening while he catches his breath and re-grounds himself in reality.

Your chest heaves as full airflow returns to your lungs, knees and jaw aching a bit sore from their exertion. You grab your underwear from where they lay discarded on top of your romper, putting them back on before standing up on somewhat shaky legs. 

Charlie also redresses, standing and straightening himself out as you do the same. 

“Mind zipping me back up?” You ask, turning around again. 

He pulls the zipper up your back until it’s at the end of its tracks, then steps up behind you, placing a soft kiss to your shoulder blade.

“Thank you.”

A soft smile grazes your lips. “No ‘thanks’ needed; the sweet taste of revenge and spite is payment enough.”

He laughs quietly.

“Well, I’ll certainly be available, should you ever need a little replenishing of those feelings.”

“Mr. Barber, you wouldn’t be saying that because you’d like to see me naked again, now would you?” Your eyebrows raise and you look over your shoulder, a playful smile on your face.

He laughs again, blushing a bit. “Uh, yeah, sure, I'd like that a lot. But I’d also like to see you, um...not naked, fully clothed, maybe at a restaurant in the city for dinner sometime? I totally get it if you’re not interested, it’s not a big deal if you don’t want to...”

Holy shit, he’s asking you out on a date. Well, he’s trying to, at least.

You laugh, cheeks warming at his proposition.

“Sure thing. I just accepted this new job, though, so I’ll have to get back to you about my availability...”

Charlie smiles, shoving his hands down in his khaki pockets. “I’m sure your new boss would be more than willing to accommodate. He’s a pretty cool guy, or so I’ve heard. Handsome, too.”

“Oh yeah? Sounds like you have a reliable informant.” You turn around as you laugh softly, grabbing your bag off the chair before stepping up in front of him. Your lips plant a quick peck on his, hands resting on his broad chest. “See you soon.”

He nods, biting his lip to hold back his big, goofy smile.

“Can’t wait.”

[cloverque]

monochrome (miya atsumu)

黑白 (宮 侑)

your life is like the black and white panels in a manga, until a certain someone dyed his vivid colours into yours

5190 words

past highschool, present post timeskip, nostalgic themes(?), tiny enemies to lovers trope, theme revolves around unconfessed love until years later

a reuploded request from an anon-then-now-my-friend! <3 not edited

Monochrome. Your life was like the black and white pages in a manga; dull and neutral. There was nothing special about you, for the most part, you were ordinary.

At some point, almost every girl would like a colourful romance. One with blooming roses, scintillating sparkles and handsome young men. Topped off with promises of abiding love and vibrant days filled with never ending mirth.

However, you never pursued it, nor did it find you, and that was alright. Besides, what was the point of heart throbbing ardour if it were all to come to an inevitable end?

With a few clicks, your computer was turned off. You began clearing your desk, sorting out your folders and files when your colleague spun around in their chair.

“Hey, (l/n)-san. Did you hear?” The mousey woman enquired. A small smile was etched across her makeup coated face as she continued. “There’s going to be a dinner function! It’ll be held in the fancy hotel across the building.”

Your coworker across your table stood up to peer pass the desk divider. She chimed in with avidity, “I’m soooo going tonight! I heard the other divisions has a ton of hotties. No way in hell I’m gonna turn down a chance to meet ‘em!”

“Geez, you’re always thinking about men...” The lady beside you sighed, before returning her gaze back to you. “So, wanna go together?”

You shook your head, “Count me out. I already have plans tonight.” As you got up and shifted your handbag, you smiled apologetically. “Let me know if anything interesting happens, though.”

“Oh, okay... See you tomorrow,” she bid you farewell, albeit disappointedly. You nodded and bid the duo the same.

When your back was turned to them, the lady across the divider whispered to the one beside you. You knew what they were prattling about: that you were plain and boring. Wordlessly, you left the room, your heels clacking against the tiles as you made your way to the elevator.

As the double digits on the digital screen changed to singular ones, you closed your eyes.

Truthfully, it would be a lie to say that your life was completely monochrome. It was once colourful, after all, despite being for a short period.

Those days had involved a boy named Miya Atsumu, and he was the one who had brought colour into your high school days.

It all began in a manga shop.

You were in your second year of high school then, and would frequent a manga shop on the way home. It was sandwiched between a decently sized Lawson and an antique shop, on a quieter side of town.

The shop was abundant with not only manga, but also multifarious classics and second hand books. With its reserved location, not many knew of its existence, thus it went unnoticed by hordes of rambunctious manga fanatics.

It was perfect for you; your little safe place. However, you didn’t know that it was also frequented by a particular faux blonde.

You had wandered in with a specific title in mind, looking forward to getting your hands on it the whole day. Meanwhile, the boy’s brain was so preoccupied with volleyball and upcoming matches that he didn’t notice you, in an identical school uniform, lingering in the same section.

And like a sick cliche, your fingers bumped into his.

Withdrawing your hand, you snuck a side glance, only to see a broad chest in your line of sight. You slowly tilted your head to meet his steely gaze. Flinching, you practically whipped around when you realised the boy was towering over you.

“Um, sorry...” You mumbled out whilst backing away.

Atsumu’s brows were scrunched together as he took in your form. He half expected you to latch onto him with your eyes, but you were looking away, at anywhere but him.

Maybe once you got a good look at him, you’d react like all the oestrogen in his life. Squealing his name, asking for his number, all thirsty for his attention.

However, all you did was stand awkwardly, without uttering a single word. The oddity took him aback slightly. Thus, he decided to play with you a bit.

The teen perked his brows slightly before pointing at the manga’s spine. “Don’t cha want this?” He gestured, making you nod. A cruel smirk sneaked up to his handsome face.

You thought he was going to pass it to you. Instead, he slipped it out of the shelf and sauntered away. He slapped a few notes onto the cashier’s counter, making the store owner jump at his boldness. The boy with the undercut swiftly shuffled towards the entrance, his book bag slung over his back with the manga dangling from his long fingers.

Gawking, you watched as the automatic sliding doors opened for him. You wanted to call him back, to demand him to return it to you. But you knew it was impossible. The manga wasn’t yours, after all.

The blonde cocked his back to catch a glimpse of you. Noticing your conflicted expression, a mischievous grin spread across his face. He stuck out his tongue at you, cackling as your eyes widened and your face flushed. Then he left as soon as he came.

Your entire body trembled with embarrassment and humiliation. What just happened...!?

To make your day worst, you later learnt that the manga was the last one in stock. The rest of your day was spent stabbing your food and antagonising your pillow.

The next day, you found him again in the manga shop, but with grey hair. You almost dropped your book bag as you stomped towards him, fuming and ready to pounce on him.

The ash grey haired teen glanced at you with a deadpanned expression as you stopped beside him, shaking with infuriation.

“How could you do that to me yesterday!? You took the last one! The! Last! One!” Your nostrils flared as you exhaled. “Now I have no wait an entire week– And why’s your hair grey now–!?”

Despite your confrontation, the boy remained unfazed as he cocked a dark brow. It took him a few seconds to realise. He glanced up at the ceiling then back at you.

“Sorry, I think you’re mistaken,” he began politely, maintaining a neutral expression. “But the person you’re talking about is probably my obnoxious twin.”

This encounter had ended with a deep bow and a deluge of apologies. Nodding, the more reserved twin gave you a cold ‘ok’ before ambling away.

Since then, you realised that there were two twins in your school: the Miya brothers. The asshole was Atsumu, and the quieter one was Osamu. Or at least, they had seemed that way to you, on account of your personal experiences.

You wondered how you had never noticed them until now, especially when they stood out during assemblies due to their dyed hair. Not to mention their questionable popularity with the girls.

Maybe Osamu was reasonable, but who in the right mind would fall for someone like that blonde jackass Atsumu!?

On one occasion, you were shuffling past the gymnasium for a nurse’s errand when you saw a glimpse of the volleyball club. Bright blonde hair swished past the doors, and you remembered your meeting with the haughty male.

“Nice kill!” A deep voice hollered, followed by the high pitched squeaks of shoes against polished floor. You peeked past the doors, eyes shining with curiosity, when the twins you had met suddenly jumped into the air.

Your eyes were set on Atsumu as he deftly set a volleyball for his brother, who spiked the ball without delay. Sweat glimmered down the faux blonde’s forehead, tracing his jawline before dripping onto the floor. The slap he gave Osamu’s hand reverberated in the gym as they shared matching grins.

Seeing them together really highlighted the fact that they were carbon copies of each other. Your train of thoughts were derailed when a member with dark hair and narrowed eyes pointed in your direction.

Atsumu glanced at you, his smile turned upside down whilst you jolted up. With confident strides, he was in your face in an instant. He gave you a once over before grimacing.

“Get lost.”

Then he slammed the door shut in your face. As you stood frozen in place, unable to register what had happened, Osamu pressed his lips together in a thin line.

“‘Tsumu, that’s no way to treat a lady.”

His golden haired twin simply snorted in response.

Your next encounter with Atsumu took place at the manga shop again. A fight had broken out between the two of you, both unwilling to relent. Gripping the limited edition copy tightly in your hand, you refused to budge.

There were extras, but you had arrived first before the haughty boy and both of you had touched the same copy. Consequently, warring with each other.

Both of you shared exasperated expressions, tugging and pulling desperately for the manga. Neither wanted to throw in the towel. Atsumu was much stronger than you, clearly, his biceps flexing as he clenched his teeth and tried to pry the book from you.

Meanwhile, your two feet were planted firmly in the ground, all your strength poured into rooting yourself into the tiles or risk falling backwards if he were to let go.

However, he would not in a long time.

“Let go, you brat!” He chided, grunting with exasperation. Tugging it back harshly, you almost stumbled.

Growling animalistically, you retorted, “Never!” Then you lunged forward to bite his hand.

The blonde released the manga with a yelp, shoving your face off his hand brutishly. You stumbled back in response, tripping and landing on your bum. A string of saliva dribbled down your lips as you stared up at him, grinning victoriously.

Atsumu glowered, holding his bitten fist with his other hand. A row of teeth had punctured his skin, and you realised there was a little blood. “What the hell is wrong with you!?”

As you stood up and brushed your school skirt, you adjusted your book bag and gripped the manga to your chest. Trembling with anger, you were giddy with pride and sheepishness.

“You slammed a door in my face, asshole!”

Then you rushed past him to pay for your purchase. Atsumu turned to watch you leave, your loafers tapping against the floor softly as you ran off. But when you hopped out of the outlet, you gave him a side glance and stuck out your tongue.

Atsumu recognised the gesture; he pointed a middle finger in return.

Days and weeks went by like that, with Atsumu and you contending against each other to buy the weekly Jump, the first copies of mangas or limited edition prints. It was childish, for two seventeen year olds to tousle with each other.

Atsumu would ruthlessly tug on your hair, screaming bloody murder of your existence and stubbornness. Meanwhile, you resorted to calling him all sorts of colourful words, which would result in the shop owner throwing the two of you out. There was even a time when you both were banned from stepping in until you made up.

It happened eventually, and the two of you would at least communicate with less insults and more civilly. Your peace treaty with him didn’t mean letting him snag first copies of new arrivals, though. But Atsumu and you settled it through more human means, instead of ripping out each other’s hair.

There was one moment in which Atsumu had made your heart beat a little faster, too. It had happened like this: you were found beside the school’s vending machine, crying because you had dropped your shoujo manga in a muddy puddle. It would never have happened if it weren’t for a group of girls that bumped into you on purpose.

Your emotional breakdown ended when Atsumu found you in that pitiful state, squatting by a murky ditch with a floating black and white book. He had stumbled upon you by coincidence, as he was buying a Pocari Sweat.

He recognised your (h/c) locks and your figure even from afar, and when he realised you were crying, he was stumped. Sure, you would cry when he tugged at your hair during fights, but for him to see your tear stained face outside arguments felt weird.

Atsumu remained silent, standing near you as you sniffled. You knew he was standing behind you, you could tell him from the hairdo in the shadow looming over you.

Instead of asking what had happened, his eyes scanned the scene and realised that a limited edition manga was floating in the dark brown puddle. Probably yours, he had thought. He connected the dots instantly. Atsumu may be childish at times, but he wasn’t an imbecile.

The blonde setter knew how much you loved your manga, how brightly you would beam whenever you got your hands on them. For you to ruin it must have felt like a heartbreak, or worse.

“Was that the one we bought two days ago?” He mumbled, and you nodded meekly.

With a soft sigh, he approached the vending machine. After slotting his coins in and pressing a button, a drink dropped to the bottom. He bent down to scoop it out, mumbling as he did so.

“You can borrow mine, if ya want.”

At that moment, your mind went blank. This immature boy was going to lend you his? It wouldn’t be such a big deal if this was anyone else, but this was Miya Atsumu you were talking about.

An insolent big shot who refused to let you win. Someone whose mental age degraded when he fumbled with words to support why he deserved to get the first copy. A selfish guy who never wanted to share.

You glanced up at the teen silently, tears still streaming down your face. He flinched as you croaked, “Miya-kun... Are you sick or something?”

“...Never mind. I think I’ll retract my offer!” He huffed, spinning on his heels as he shuffled away.

Scrambling to your feet, you blurted out, “W-Wait! I was joking, I swear!”

You chased after him, and although he couldn’t hear it, you wished Atsumu wouldn’t be able to hear your heart pounding in your chest.

Inevitably, the blonde twin and you grew closer. Sometimes, you would walk with him to school, though it was more like you were third wheeling with him and his brother. The two of them would converse about volleyball, homework, and even little things like bentos and nonsensical topics.

You grew used to their frivolous antics, and Osamu eventually opened up to you as well. The two of them even let you call them by their first names, especially since referring to both of them as ‘Miya’ was confusing.

Atsumu only learnt of your name when you both exchanged it, and when you told him he could call you by your first name, he chaffed you for the overfamiliarity.

There were days when the blonde and you would visit the manga store together. And in time to come, the teenager grew fond of your ebullient nature towards comics. He would poke fun of you for reading ‘unfeminine’ genres, such as horror and sci-fi. Whenever he found you peeking at boy love books, you never heard the end of it.

At the same time, you began to appreciate him, despite his snide remarks and snarky attitude. There were times when his jokes crossed the line you, making you pout and sometimes cry, but he would apologise through his actions, like gifting you the new arrival of your favourite manga.

It was almost impossible to get him to apologise, due to his pride, but he always made up with you in his own way. And for that, you were grateful.

As months passed and you both became close friends, Atsumu began hanging out with you during school hours. On one occasion, the both of you hid in the rooftop to eat lunch. Osamu wasn’t present due to a cold, so it was just the two of you.

Picking up an octopus shaped wiener, you gave it a half hearted glance before popping it into your mouth. Atsumu was rambling about morning practice, blathering on how pissed he was that his brother wasn’t around to spike his perfect sets.

Suddenly, without thinking, you interrupted. “You know, you’re not a bad guy, Atsumu.”

Your eyes were fixated on his when you blurted out. His cheeks were stuffed with rice as he turned to you, surprised. With a perked brow, he gawked at you like you had grown a second head.

“Wait, are you falling for me already, (y/n)?” His deep, buttery voice was muffled by the contents in his mouth.

You grinned and waggled your brows. “No way, your personality is like sewage water.”

With a giggle, you leaned in to take away the small grain lingering by his lips. Your soft knuckles brushed against the corners of his lips and he swore he had stopped breathing.

Atsumu’s cheeks were dusted pink at your kind yet intimate gesture. Nobody had done that to him before, and he was unsure of what to feel.

Taking notice of his sudden silence, you raised your brows. “Atsumu, are you okay?”

“Haaaah–?! What are you talking about, I’m perfectly fine!” He scrunched his brows together, wrinkling his nose in disgust. Then he turned away, his back facing you as he scarfed down the remains of his lunch.

You tilted your head, unsure of what had happened, but resumed eating too. Truthfully, he was a little abashed. Ever since then, his heart would beat a little faster for you too.

Atsumu’s presence in your previously dull life meant new found colours. Days went by in a blur, with jokes, nonsense and memorable memories. He had snuck into your life when you least expected it, and so did you in his.

You began watching the volleyball team‘s matches. Sitting in the back row, you would cheer for Atsumu in your own special way: inwardly.

You didn’t understand much about the game, but you knew that your blonde friend loved it more than anything else, even his manga. So it must have meant something strongly to him, and as a friend, you had to support him.

The game was moving quickly, a bit too quickly for your taste. You didn’t comprehend what was happening, but at least Inarizaki was winning. The intimidating black screen beside the court flashed with a new digit, eliciting an eruption of cheers from the cheer squad.

“Isn’t he cute? He’s kinda dreamy,” a girl in front of you sighed to her friend, and you perked up instantly. Unconsciously, you began eavesdropping. “I wonder if Atsumu-kun has a girlfriend...”

“Are you kidding? Men that hot are either gay or taken!” Her peer bubbled with conceited giggles.

You wrinkled your nose at the insensitive response, but you mulled over her words. You had never seen Atsumu with a girl before. However, there were instances when you stumbled upon him during a confession. You would hide in a bush or behind a wall, listening curiously as the girl rambled on about how much she loved or admired him.

Without fail, his words would be laced with distaste while turning them down. Usually with harsh responses like ‘you don’t even know me’ or ‘I betcha say that to every guy’. He would even go as far as ripping a love letter to shreds.

They were total knock outs to the girls’ feelings. And as they ran away in tears, you couldn’t help but feel devastated for them. Atsumu sure was a prick at times.

“Him? Having a girlfriend? Never in a million years,” you mumbled under your breath.

Strangely, your chest had tightened a little with the thought.

The game finished shortly and the volleyball team gathered together to thank the watching spectators. Atsumu’s eyes bore holes into the black banner hung over the wall when suddenly, he glanced in your direction.

You flinched under his discerning gaze, stiffening nervously. He didn’t know that you were here until now.

His eyes narrowed a bit before a smirk settled on his sweat stained face. Your face burned, a little too hotly for your liking, and you looked down at your shoes to hide it. Why was he staring at you like that?

The girls in front of your row squealed that he was looking in their direction, but when they called out to him, he looked away. His cold attitude almost made you snigger.

Now that the match was over, you decided it was time to head home. You were ready to descend a flight of stairs when a familiar voice called your name. Spinning around, you came face to face with the handsome blonde, who was wearing a shit-eating grin.

“Didn’t know you came,” he breathed, arms akimbo as you cocked your head.

“Yeah, I wanted to cheer for Osamu.” You gave him a cheeky, lidded eye smile. An irk mark formed on his temple as he chopped your head with his hand.

The two of you went off after that: you teasing him on his missed serve and how his brother had to pick up his slack. Atsumu bared his fangs and fired empty threats and curses, all the while you pulled your bottom eyelid and blew a raspberry mockingly.

A dark haired teen in a jersey with the number ten stood idly by his teammates. Leaning on a railing, he hummed. “Who’s that, Osamu?”

The mentioned twin watched his brother and you with a softened expression. As the two of you fought like cats and dogs, he chuckled. “Someone who can stand Atsumu more than me.”

“Huh... If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they’re in love.”

The Inarizaki volleyball club watched as Atsumu pinched your cheeks and spread them ruthlessly, earning a high pitched whine from you. You resorted to clawing his face and Osamu had to put an end to both of your antics–

The voice on the intercom derailed your train of thought. Getting up, you stumbled out of the train in a daze.

You had unwittingly gone down memory lane, a bit too much. As your heels tapped against the concrete sidewalk, you glanced up at the dark sky twinkling with a streak of stars. Clouds rolled by leisurely, and waning luna peeked from her wispy blanket.

The rest of your high school had gone by in a blur, most of it involving Miya Atsumu. There was one time when you went to an anime and manga convention with him.

You smiled fondly at the distant memory: Atsumu was teary eyed as he shook hands with his favourite mangaka, who was a hunched over man. Out of respect for him, he knelt down, to be the same height, and took a photo with him in that state. You had never imagined a day would come when he would kowtow to someone.

Taking out your phone, you searched up for his social media and tapped on his Twitter account. There were posts after posts of his activity in the MSBY Black Jackals.

A silly selfie with a dog filter made you titter aloud. The comment section was overwhelmed with questions of his next match, his day, relationship status and the like.

Atsumu was an even bigger shot now. He also moved nearer to his volleyball team’s hometown, just to be able to practice longer hours there. He had left his hometown a while ago, and the both of you hadn’t contacted each other for years.

You once had his phone number, until a sneaky crow took off with your old mobile phone. No clue as to why that had happened.

Sighing at the thought, you stepped foot into your destination: a manga shop. The same one you had first met him. It never really changed; faded beige walls and oak wood shelves with blanched posters. Walking back in here only reminded you of how colourful your life had once been.

“Welcome back, (l/n)-san!” greeted the young boy behind the counter. He was the grandson of the shop owner, whose knees had deteriorated over the years.

You glanced in his direction. “How’s business been, kid?” He gave you an ‘ok’ sign and your expression softened. “Hope it’s okay if I take a bit. I finally found some time to shop.”

“Store’s closing in ten. Don’t take too long!” He waved back earnestly and you nodded.

Making your way past the familiar shelves, the clacking of your heels resounded in the almost empty store. Your hair bounced behind you as you tread past the sports manga section, past a tall, blonde.

You had failed to notice the old friend behind the mask. The blonde man glanced up the moment you passed, and his eyes widened in shock.

Without hesitation, you picked up the latest issue of Jump. It had been a while since you read manga, as everyday was swamped with work. Flipping through the black and white pages, your mind drifted to the reality in the panels.

You were oblivious to the male strutting towards you. As he approached, he took in your more adultly figure and attire. You were dressed in a white button up which clung to your chest, and a black pencil skirt that hugged your waist and hips.

You looked ravishing, to say the least, and Atsumu had to swallow the lump in his throat. There was no mistake, the beautiful woman in front of him was you.

He stopped behind you, hands jammed into his jean pockets before pulling down the white mask. The man with a dark cap atop his fluffy blonde locks peered past your smaller form to take in the manga in your hands. With a soft hum, he spoke up.

“Something’s never change, huh?”

You jolted up in surprise and whipped around, only to come face to face with an intimidatingly tall man. He was almost 190cm, perhaps, and was built with muscles that even his clothes couldn’t hide. His broad chest was in your face, and you had to tilt your head back to meet him in the eye.

With a lopsided grin, the man took off his cap. His tousled blonde locks sprang out of their cage, and your eyes widened in recognition while he smirked, “Sup, (y/n). How are ya?”

“Atsumu?!” You gasped, the Jump going slack in your hands as you dropped it. It flopped onto a pile of similar copies whilst said blonde placed a finger over his lips.

“Shh, I’m here on my day off!” He teasingly hushed, and you instantly clamped a hand over your mouth to silence your confused screaming.

Was this for real? How could the boy, who had painted your monochrome life full of colour, be standing right in front of you? Right now and right here?

Your eyes flitted from the pooling chocolate brown in his eyes to his larger stature. Raking his figure with your wide eyes, you came to a conclusion: Atsumu had changed.

You knew that he was more built from his self-centred topless selfies, but seeing him upclose was a whole different experience. He has grown taller too, though he had always loomed over you either way, but it was still a little frightening how much he could grow even after puberty. Meanwhile, his undercut was relatively the same, except his bangs were not pushed back, unlike before when they were swept to the right.

The only thing that had remained unchanged was the playful glint in his orbs and the smug smile tugging on his lips.

“I...Is it really you, ‘Tsumu?” You murmured, albeit teary eyes as you removed your hand from your mouth.

Running his fingers through his golden mane, he chuckled, “Do ya know anyone with these good looks?”

Your eyes narrowed playfully and you pinched his cheeks. Huffing, you told him off, “Stop trying to be so suave, weirdo!”

“Geh– But seriously, I thought you died or something! Ya never responded to my texts,” He spluttered out as you pulled his cheeks harder, and he managed to add, “But lucky me, you’re still kickin’!”

“Wait, you what?” Your lashes fluttered in confusion. You hadn’t gotten a word he had said since the beginning.

“I tried contacting you once in a while, but you never replied.” He blinked, and you looked down at the ground, suddenly embarrassed.

“Ah... My phone was stolen by a crow. And I lost your number...”

“Wait, for real? That sounds like something straight outta a manga!” He chortled as a sheepish smile snuck on your flushed face.

When Atsumu had calmed down, he placed his hands over yours, detaching them from his cheeks. Holding your hands gently, he wore a mask of calm. You were a bit confused by his sudden, gentle gesture. You gave him a questioning look, although your heart was starting to pound uncontrollably behind your ribs.

Squeezing your hand lightly, he began quietly. “(y/n), I know it’s been a long time and all... But I never forgot the times we had together. And, well, I know it’s kinda late, but I liked you.”

A blush crept up on both of your faces as he continued clumsily. “I kinda still do, so, well... If you’d like, we should–“

“Shop’s closing!” Atsumu and you jumped up in surprise. The boy was standing at the end of the section, a look of genuine surprise on his baby face. Glowering, the blonde barked fiercely.

“You ruined it, ya moron!”

The teen flinched before scuttling away. You burst into giggles as the upset athlete scowled. Whipping his head back to you, he scrunched his brows together, exasperated.

“What’s so funny?” He enquired, still wearing a frown.

Breathing shakily, you wiped away a tear in your eye. “You never really changed, Atsumu!” With a lidded eye smile, you grinned at him innocently, heart swelling with nostalgia.

His glare softened at your expression. Shooting a quick glance at the returned boy, who was peeking from the shelves anxiously, he clicked his tongue.

“Let’s ditch this place,” he grunted, taking your hand in his again as he dragged you out of the shop. You stumbled but eventually matched his pace.

With an apologetic glance at the young boy standing in the shop, you turned back to Atsumu. “Still as mean and pushy as always, aren’t cha?”

The faux blonde gave you a side glance, still pulling you along. Eye rolling, he slapped back on his cap and looked ahead, “Shut up.”

Neither Atsumu nor you couldn’t deny that both of your hearts were pounding. The two of you ended up taking a long stroll in your hometown, catching up on the pass few years and more. The night also had ended on a high note.

Once again, Miya Atsumu’s vibrant colours had seeped back into the monochrome panels of your life. Perhaps, this time, a romance would bloom between the two of you.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　fin.

[buck-buck-boose]

I'll Love You 'Til I Die

Masterlist | Playlist

Summary: A Brooklyn schoolgirl fell in love with James Buchanan Barnes at the tender age of nine. With this love she made a vow, promising to love him until her very last breath.

Pairing: Bucky x OFC

Warnings: Language, mild violence

Word Count: 4.6k

Author's Note: Big things are happening y'all

Chapter Twenty-One: The Super Soldier

March 19, 1943

Dawn crept up on Camp Lehigh in a thick haze of fog, the chirp of crickets its only whispered greeting. A late-winter frost bloomed across what little grass remained, the majority having been trampled underfoot by platoon after platoon of soldiers. Winter was quickly fading, giving way to a promising spring, but the bitter chill still latched onto those dewy mornings to remind Camp Lehigh’s inhabitants of the cold season they’d just nearly escaped.

Although sessions of training were not due to begin for hours, warm bodies were stirred from slumber in their barracks, meeting the cold, stale air of their poorly-insulated lodgings. The nurse’s barracks was lit by a lamp's dim glow, which splayed a flush of golden light across the room. Five women quietly and nimbly dressed, none of them wishing to break the silence that balanced among them; the early morning was sacred to them, as it seemed to be the only time apart from nighttime in which one could be alone with one’s thoughts.

Lottie deftly pinned her mousy curls beneath her white cap, caring little for their arrangement or appearance. Once upon a time, she’d tamed her curls with gentle finger waves and carefully pinned back strands, desperate to look the part of a fair woman like Ginger Rogers. It was a quieter, more joyful time in which she had the time and desire to put ample effort into her appearance. How simpler life in Brooklyn seemed, in retrospect. She only had to care for Steve or Bucky’s wounds, usually from some street brawl instigated by Steve and ended by Bucky; now she had soldiers to care for. Soldiers who would one day be covered in great, gaping wounds, some so deeply ingrained within their souls that neither the highest of morphine dosages nor the strongest suture could soothe them.

Lottie made swift work of fastening her blue cape around her neck, situating it so that the inner red lining wasn’t peeking out. In her peripherals, Mary smoothed a hand down her white skirt in a weak attempt at combatting its wrinkles while Betty gave her face a once-over in a battered compact that she always seemed to have on her person. Lottie was downright envious of her ever-red lip and sultry gaze, they seemed to turn the heads of all the young privates on base, which earned them more than a few reprimands. It was only a few weeks ago that Betty had explained her reasoning for putting such effort into her physical charm, even in the middle of the war.

“Nurses are supposed to provide comfort, care, right?” She sat across from Lottie at their table in the mess hall, smoke curling from a freshly lit cigarette resting between her fingers. She puffed on the cigarette for a moment and slowly exhaled the smoke, “Well these boys have been stuck in a war for over a year now and they probably haven’t seen a pretty face in a while. They’re probably missing their sweethearts, fiancées, you name it. Either way, they’ve gotta be awful lonely out there, so what’s the harm in being that girl with the pretty face that can make them a little less lonesome?”

Before anyone could raise a question, she continued, “I’m not talking affairs or anything illicit, sometimes they just need a pretty face and a nice voice to remind ‘em of home, to ease that loneliness.”

Betty’s little sermon drew Lottie’s thoughts to Bucky. He was a fiercely loyal man who would stop at nothing to protect or care for his closest companions. For his own sake, Lottie hoped that he’d found a sort of comradery with his fellow soldiers, a bond to strengthen him while they were separated by an ocean. He’d always had a habit of flashing her his trademark grin and ruffling her hair, all while declaring something silly like “You ‘n Steve are all I need, Little Lottie. It’s always gonna be the three of us, ‘til the end of the line.” Lottie could only hope that Bucky had found a bond like theirs with his fellow soldiers as a source of comfort and a respite from loneliness.

“Lottie dear, Dr. Erskine’s waiting for us.”

It seemed that the other nurses had filtered out of the barracks as Lottie was lost in thought. Only Gladys remained, waiting for her expectantly at the doorway. Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled back in a tight bun, with her white cap nestled daintily atop her head, held in place with a handful of pins.

“Apologies, Gladys, I’m coming.” Gladys gave her a small smile as she caught up, nerves keeping her from forming her true toothy grin. All the nurses were nervous, to be truthful, as it was a significant day. Their serum was finally being put to use; they had found their first Super Soldier in Steve Rogers.

When Lottie had received the news of his selection to receive the serum, she’d nearly fainted with shock. Steve was a man with a heart of gold, she’d always known that, but it only served to heighten her self-doubt with regards to the serum’s efficacy. If the serum went awry as it did with Schmidt, Lottie wasn’t sure how she would be able to live with herself.

Dr. Erskine and Colonel Phillips’ debriefing as to why Steve had been chosen to become America’s first Super Soldier was a source of comfort, though. The two men had cornered the five nurses outside their barracks right as they were heading inside to turn in for the night.

The scientist had been the first to speak, “Ladies, we wanted to catch you as soon as possible. Colonel Phillips and I have decided upon our candidate for the serum. Private Steve Rogers will report to our facility in Brooklyn promptly at ten hundred hours tomorrow. We will need to depart camp at six hundred hours so we have abundant time to become accustomed to the equipment that will be in use. Mr. Stark will be joining us there.”

Lottie was sure there’d been spots in her vision, the announcement had nearly knocked all the wind out of her.

“I expect you ladies to uphold the same sense of secrecy and vigilance that you’ve had up until this point,” Colonel Phillips interjected, “This is only the beginning of our mission. We must continue to protect Project Rebirth, no matter how hopeless it may seem.” His voice was laced with bitterness, obviously doubtful of Steve’s abilities.

Nancy furrowed her brow, “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but isn’t Private Rogers the ninety-pound asthmatic? Why him and not someone more… reliable, like Private Hodge?”

Lottie bristled slightly, as she did not take kindly to critical remarks regarding her friends.

“Need I remind you that the serum is not focused only on the physical?” Dr. Erskine fixed Nancy with a level gaze, “He is not the most well-built soldier, I admit that. But as you have seen yourself, the serum is capable of incredible cellular change that will only strengthen him. It will also amplify the qualities that he already has inside of himself. He has proven himself to be a good soldier and a worthy recipient of the serum.” Lottie glanced at Colonel Phillips, whose face was twisted into an awkward grimace, though he did not comment.

“During training today, he exhibited qualities of strength and humility that I have yet to see in any other soldiers thus far. Would Private Hodge throw himself over a grenade to protect his fellow soldiers? He showed me today that he would not, but Private Rogers would.”

Colonel Phillips muttered something along the lines of, “Still skinny,” though the bitterness seemed to fade. All of the nurses came to accept the news, trading in their expressions of shock and concern for ones of uncertainty and anxiety. It seemed that reality had hit for all five of the nurses at once; their work had finally come to fruition, making the road ahead even more daunting than before.

There was little conversation in the nurse’s compartment on the train to Brooklyn. There were moments of brief chatter among the women, but they were all too lost in their thoughts to carry on a proper conversation. Lottie shifted in her seat every few minutes, the poorly-cushioned seat providing little comfort during the duration of the train ride. Beside her, Gladys flicked through a stack of paper, which she’d pulled out of a manila folder that had been stamped with the word “Confidential” in large red letters. Ever the levelheaded academic of the group, she’d decided to look over their notes on the serum and its activation procedure one last time.

Across from her, Mary and Nancy were busying themselves with embroidery, an activity that a few of the nurses had picked up to improve their abilities with stitching. Lottie pictured a frayed handkerchief in her mind’s eye, a tattered old thing covered in clumsy pink flowers with a “JBB” monogram stitched carefully onto its corner. She wondered if Bucky had taken it with him overseas. He’d always kept it on his person back in Brooklyn, “Never know when a dame’s gonna go all misty eyed on me,” he’d say, humor in his eyes. There wouldn’t be many women for him to comfort overseas, but maybe he’d need it for his tears someday.

Betty sat to the right of Gladys, scanning the pages of a battered copy of Gone With the Wind. She’d never struck Lottie as a bookworm, but more often than not, she was the last of the women to fall asleep at night, usually engrossed in a novel for an hour or two past lights-out.

Two hours passed uneventfully; its monotony was only interrupted by the transferring from one train to another. Lottie’s heart seemed to pound in her ears as they approached Brooklyn, the tall buildings in her window becoming more and more familiar to her. Her heart swelled at the sight of it; she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed the city until she returned after all that time. Of course, she’d been gone from the city for longer while she was in nursing school, but it tugged at her heartstrings even more than before because a damn war was what kept her from her beloved borough.

It wasn’t long before the train had arrived, initiating a flurry of movement out of the train car and toward a car that sat at the curb, waiting for them. All five nurses clambered inside, with Dr. Erskine following behind in his car. The car ride was a short one, though Lottie took the time to observe her surroundings; she wanted so desperately to drink in the familiar alleys and side streets before she had to return to Camp Lehigh, to war.

Their car stopped abruptly in front of a cozy antique shop; one she’d never paid much attention to. Dr. Erskine’s car had arrived just a few moments before theirs, so they followed him inside. Once inside, they were faced with an aged woman, who greeted them with a casual question, though her eyes betrayed a deeper glimmer of suspicion, “Wonderful weather this morning, isn't it?”

Dr. Erskine responded promptly, “Yes, but I always carry an umbrella.”

They were quickly led through a false bookcase, which hid a vast laboratory full of all that was needed to complete the transformation that would occur in a few hours. There were dozens of monitors and gauges, all for measuring Steve’s vitals and the Vita-Rays that were intended to activate the serum within his cells. In the center of it all, there was a bed on which Steve would lie, and when injected with the serum, the bed would be surrounded by a chamber while the Vita-Rays were projected into him.

Lottie and her peers stood at the top of the stairs, taking it all in, while Dr. Erskine descended the steps toward a control panel. He glanced back at them briefly, “Shall we all get accustomed to this now, ladies?”

Over the past few hours, Lottie had tired herself by calibrating various instruments, readying the equipment, and arranging several vials of serum within the transformation chamber. Throughout that time, doctors, higher-ranking soldiers, and members of the SSR slowly filtered into the room, some even gathering in the observation booth that looked down on them from above. She knew that Steve was due to arrive with Agent Carter at any moment. Frankly, she was terrified— mortified, even.

Howard Stark flitted about the laboratory, checking up on the various devices that would be used throughout the process. The Vita-Ray chamber was his brainchild, so a majority of his morning was spent double and triple-checking its minute parts and its stability.

At precisely 10 o’clock in the morning, Agent Carter and Steve stepped into the laboratory, two metal doors held open by guards for their entrance. Silence quickly descended upon the scientists and personnel who had been moving about the room in a sort of organized chaos. Lottie knew that most of them were looking at Steve in confusion, and in some cases dismay, but she made sure to send her best friend a reassuring smile. Even if the bullheaded scientists in the room were doubtful of his abilities, Lottie was with him. She believed in him. Her only doubts were in her abilities.

The staff quickly returned to their business as Agent Carter and Steve descended the steps and approached the center of the laboratory to meet with Dr. Erskine. They shared a brief greeting before Steve was ordered to remove his hat, tie, and shirt; Mary waited beside him with a kind smile, accepting his shed clothing. Agent Carter stood a few feet behind Steve, respectfully averting her gaze as he partially disrobed. Lottie took a special interest in their interactions, examining the way in which she treated Steve. She didn’t ignore or belittle him as some women did, she treated him with more dignity and respect. For that, Lottie was grateful.

Lottie busied herself with sterilizing several glass syringes as she impatiently awaited the initiation of the transformation. She could just barely make out a conversation that Dr. Erskine and Steve had shared about schnapps, but before she could quite figure out what was said, the scientist turned to the inventor beside him, “Mr. Stark, how are your levels?”

“Levels at one hundred percent. We may dim half the lights in Brooklyn, but we are ready as we’ll ever be.” Mr. Stark stood in front of the chamber where Steve now lay, projecting an air of confidence despite an uncomfortable look in his eye.

Agent Carter was dismissed to the booth to join Colonel Phillips, who was seated with several other seemingly important men that Lottie didn’t care to know. Dr. Erskine addressed the crowd in the booth using a microphone, explaining the purpose of Project Rebirth. Meanwhile, Lottie and her fellow nurses prepared the Vita-Ray chamber; she’d just situated the paddles on his chest when his gaze met hers. They’d been in a similar position so many times before. There were countless times over the past decade when she and Bucky had shown up at his apartment, soup and medicine in hand, to make him feel better during his latest bout of sickness. Bucky would always sit on one side of the bed, leaning on the mattress as he tried to distract Steve with idle conversation. She always kept vigil on the opposite side of the bed from Bucky, pulling Steve’s sheets up to his chin no matter how much he complained of the heat. She would never have to do that again, Lottie realized, as the serum would (hopefully) strengthen his immune system to the point that it would nearly be impossible to get sick. He wouldn’t need her or Bucky to look after him anymore. It pained her only slightly; she was overjoyed that he would be strengthened and healed by the serum, but it felt like the end of an era for her. She wasn’t truly needed anymore.

When the scientist’s speech to the booth had concluded, Lottie disinfected Steve’s shoulder and injected a syringe of penicillin into it; beforehand, she gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, warning him for the pain of the jab. She felt him sigh in relief, “That wasn’t so bad.”

Lottie bit back a giggle while Dr. Erskine looked down at Steve with a furrowed brow, “That was penicillin.” The scientist gave her a look and without missing a beat, began the countdown.

Five

The doctors and scientists that were scattered around the laboratory rushed to their control panels, monitoring Steve’s vitals and the Vita-Ray levels that would soon be harnessed for the serum’s activation.

Four

Those that were observing from the booth looked at the scene below with bated breath; they either anticipated either a predictable failure or an unlikely success.

Three

The five nurses gathered around the Vita-Ray chamber, monitoring the serum infusion. Two mechanical arms latched onto Steve’s biceps and embedded several syringes deep into his muscle.

Two

Dr. Erskine placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder. Lottie met Steve’s gaze once more, she was that little girl at his bedside, sitting her vigil for one last time.

One

A switch was flipped and several syringes of the serum were injected into Steve’s system. Lottie could already see the strain it was putting on his body, his face contorted and he grunted in pain as he felt the serum begin its work in his body.

When given his signal, Mr. Stark flipped a lever to encase Steve in the Vita-Ray chamber, which maneuvered Steve into a vertical position before he was completely locked into the machine. Dr. Erskine knocked on the metal, “Steven? Can you hear me?”

A muffled response came from within the metal, “It’s probably too late to go to the bathroom, right?” Lottie snorted, only Steve would make a terrible joke at a time like that.

The scientist faced Mr. Stark, “We will proceed.” Below him, Mr. Stark slowly turned a dial and donned a pair of goggles. Lottie and her peers followed suit, as the luminosity of the Vita-Rays would cause vision damage if their eyes were left uncovered.

Lottie worried her lip as Mr. Stark slowly increased the radiation levels by turning a wheel that was mounted on the control panel. Next to him, a doctor carefully monitored Steve’s vitals; he reported that they were all normal, which calmed Lottie a tad.

At around the seventy percent mark, cries began to ring out from within the Vita-Ray chamber. It was as if screams were being torn from Steve’s throat, they were so hoarse and raw. Dr. Erskine rushed to the chamber while Peggy quickly descended from the booth, urging the personnel to cease the radiation. Lottie stood in shock, stuck in an internal impasse. She worried deeply for Steve’s safety, she always had and always would. Simultaneously, she needed to trust in the years’ worth of work she’d put into Project Rebirth. She and her fellow nurses had worked day after day, slaving over the Super Soldier Serum and Vita-Ray theories to develop the perfect transformation method. If she couldn’t trust her abilities and research, what could she trust?

But when Steve’s cries seemed to echo throughout the laboratory, she knew that his safety superseded whatever pride she had in her research. Lottie had just opened her mouth to call for an end to it when Steve insisted from within the Vita-Ray chamber, “Don’t! I can do this!”

A burst of warmth bloomed in Lottie’s chest; Steve trusted their work and he was fighting to see it through. Mr. Stark continued to raise the radiation levels until they had reached one hundred percent. The staff and observers from the booth could only look on in shock and wonder as the light from within the chamber continued to glow brighter and it began to give off a steady humming noise.

Without warning, sparks began to spray out from the control panels as a result of the copious amounts of electricity being funneled into the transformation. Lottie cried out, ducking down with Mary to avoid the sparks that showered down on them from overhead. Across from them, Nancy, Gladys, and Betty assumed similar positions, clutching their white caps as they attempted to shield themselves from the onslaught.

As quickly as it started, the sparks ceased, as did the humming of the Vita-Ray chamber. The laboratory was far dimmer than it was earlier, with the light from the radiation gone, and nearly half the bulbs in the laboratory having been blown out.

All eyes were on the Vita-Ray chamber as they all awaited the final result of Project Rebirth. The chamber hissed open and released a gust of air, revealing an exhausted-looking Steve.

Lottie could barely believe it, not only was he exhausted-looking, but it seemed as if he’d gained nearly 8 inches of height and a few dozen pounds of muscle. Gone was that scrawny blond boy who’d gotten lost in crowds far too easily, here was a man— a Super Soldier —who was perfectly enhanced on a cellular level.

The SSR agents and politicians who were previously gathered in the booth rushed to meet with Steve, barely able to contain their excitement. They clambered over each other, all of them desperate to be the first one to speak with America’s first Super Soldier.

In all the chaos, Betty had sidled up to her, her jaw nearly touching the floor, “Hot damn, Lottie Green. Hot damn.” She ogled at Steve as she took in his new physique. Lottie rolled her eyes, “Just because he’s got more muscle doesn’t mean he’ll be able to talk to you any better. Or that he won’t step on your toes if you get him to dance.”

Steve stood in the middle of a crowd of men, though Agent Carter stood in front of him, attempting to look at anything but his chest.

“I think you might want this, Stevie,” Lottie moved in to stand beside Agent Carter and offered him a shirt, which he accepted gratefully. He smiled down at her gratefully, murmuring a quiet, “Thank you, Lottie.”

How odd it was to be looking up at him. It was certainly something that Lottie wasn’t used to, she’d gotten quite used to looking down at him, in fact. By age sixteen, she’d gained about two inches on him, and though he was loath to admit it, she knew it pained him to be the shortest of the three of them. Luckily for him, his new height delegated her as the most diminutive of the Brooklyn trio by far.

Amid the jubilation following Project Rebirth’s success, grave mistakes were made. Gladys had left her manila folder of notes— all the notes that the nurses had ever taken during their research —on one of the control panels closest to the stairway, just close enough to the exit to be snatched up by a discreet hand. An extra vial of Super Soldier serum sat in its case, at the ready for its eventual use; it stood unguarded and unwatched.

The once-unassuming Fred Clemson hung back from the crowd, a lighter in hand. Dr. Erskine was the first to notice his position apart from everyone else; the scientist opened his mouth as if to say something, but before he could form a sentence, Clemson had flicked open the lighter and triggered an explosion from the observation booth.

Screams rang out from the middle of the laboratory as glass rained down on them. Sparks even worse than before began assaulting them and left stinging burns in their wake. Lottie grunted as she felt minuscule shards of glass tear at and become embedded in her skin; it would surely be a pain to treat such small cuts and remove the pieces of glass later on. It was shocking, really, how quickly the mood of the room had shifted. Just moments before, she’d been looking at Steve in awe, fully processing all that the serum had accomplished. Her sentiments of excitement and pride quickly evaporated, replaced by a growing sense of panic and dread.

The force of the explosion had thrown Lottie and some of the other nurses to the ground, so she scrambled to her feet in an attempt to take action against the man. It was all in vain, for as soon as she regained her footing, all she saw was the bespectacled man diving through the crowd to grab the last vial of Super Soldier serum and the thick manila envelope that Gladys had brought with her. Lottie’s stomach dropped in terror; she opened her mouth to cry out for backup, but Dr. Erskine was one step ahead of her. He commanded the man to stop, but the only response he received was several gunshots in the chest.

Deep red stains formed across the front of his shirt and seeped into his lab coat, his vibrant blood was a sickening contrast to the crisp white color of his lab coat. The scientist fell to the ground, his legs sprawled out before him and his arms at his side. Lottie knew that there was no hope for him— there were no exit wounds and she was more than certain that at least one of his lungs had been punctured. His breathing was labored, his chest heaving with every inhale and exhale. Lottie didn’t need to perform an examination to know that the wounds would be fatal. There was no time for an examination anyway, gunshots continued to ring out across the laboratory, and Agent Carter was in hot pursuit of the offender.

Mary looked at Lottie for some sort of reassurance of direction, her mouth agape, “Lottie, he's— he’s gonna die if we don’t do somethin’. C’mon, we’ve gotta help him.” Her voice came out in a whimper and her hands shook as she searched the floor for any fallen bandages. She took Mary’s trembling hands into her clammy ones, “Mary, look at his breathing. You know there’s nothing we can do for him now.”

She knew it was a heartbreaking thing to say, but Mary was a brilliant nurse; she already knew all the signs of a punctured lung. Lottie knew that she was having a hard time processing the information due to the shock that was no doubt obscuring her senses and rational thought. What Mary needed was a calm voice to guide her back from the brink of hysteria, a friend to bring her back to reality.

The nurses learned a jarring lesson about reality’s harsh nature that day; they learned of its cycle of gains and losses, successes and failures. The five nurses of Project Rebirth had achieved all that they’d been dreaming of for more than a year, they’d proven themselves to be reliable and even stellar researchers in their field. It had all been ripped away from them in a matter of moments, with the loss of their notes and serum, as well as the brutal death of Dr. Erskine. All they could do was clutch each other helplessly as they watched Steve follow the man in hot pursuit— the man who had stolen everything from them. Lottie, Mary, Betty, Nancy, and Gladys had certainly entered a new era in their careers as nurses, an era of uncertainty. With nothing left from Project Rebirth besides the Super Soldier himself, their futures were left in limbo until the Strategic Scientific Reserve could figure out what to do with them next.

[winterscaptain]

in line.

Aaron Hotchner x Male Reader

request from anon: Thank you for sharing your writing on here! A blurb idea, because I hardly see any male readers, is that maybe Hotch has figured out he’s attracted to men too and has a boyfriend? Someone Hotch can go home to and be taken care of by them, someone Jack trusts? Because hotch spends all his time caring for the team, his s/o really spoils him with affection and TLC. I’m really soft for that idea, and the team being real pleased he’s found someone who appreciates him again. Hope you’re doing well! a/n: i wanted to give this a little more attention than a blurb, so it turned into a Whole Thing™ words: 2790 warnings: swearing, some drinking, derek being charming, and emily prentiss: patron saint of The Gays™

i don't have a specific male!reader taglist yet, so i added all yall on my gn!reader list, so nobody would miss this! lemme know if you wanna stay on the male!reader list or not - you’ll never hurt my feelings :)

masterlist | requests closed!

Aaron came home to all the lights off save one, illuminating a little scene before him - dinner (still hot) on the coffee table, a glass of wine, and you, holding the remote ready to start a movie. 

He smiled, set his briefcase down, and slipped his shoes off. 

“Jack’s at Jess’s,” you said, before he could ask. “I thought it would be a nice surprise to spend the evening, just you and me.” 

He crossed to the couch and sat down, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “It’s a great surprise, thank you.” You grabbed his tie and tried to pull him down on the couch, but he pried your fingers off and laughed. “Let me change and I’ll come sit with you, alright?”

You picked up your glass of wine and tipped it his direction. “I’ll be here.”

It was true. When he returned and dropped down next to you, you were waiting for him. When he was firmly settled with dinner, you started the movie. 

After a while, you asked, “Did the case go okay?”

He nodded. “We got ‘im. I had to stay and make sure the DA had a strong enough case, otherwise I would have been home yesterday.” 

You leaned into him, and he wrapped an arm around you. “I don’t mind. Jack and I went out for a bike ride yesterday and didn’t miss you at all, not even a little.” 

Aaron laughed. “Good.” 

+++

“Damn it.” 

Aaron forgot his lunch. He could see it in his mind’s eye, sitting there next to his travel mug of coffee on the kitchen island. Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, he had just resigned himself to a takeout lunch when his phone rang. 

“Hotchner.” 

“Babe, you left your lunch here,” the light amusement in your tone dissolved his sour mood, and he smiled despite himself. 

“I noticed.” 

He could hear you shuffling around in the background as you spoke. “I’ll swing by and leave it downstairs after I drop Jack at school. No more than an hour, okay?”

Aaron smiled and sat in his chair, leaning back. “What did I do to deserve you?”

You laughed. “Absolutely nothing. I’m just a sucker for charity cases.” There was a shuffle, and you heard Jack laugh. You were probably at the table, poking the kid in the ribs until he almost got sick with laughter. Before Aaron could respond again, you said, “Alright, love you, bye!” and hung up.

Aaron rolled his eyes and got to work. 

True to your word, no more than an hour later found you at the front of the Quantico Federal Building, Aaron’s lunch and coffee in your hand. You’d never seen the inside, but you knew you were on the visitors list. 

Fuck it.

You checked in, got your visitor’s badge, and made your way to the sixth floor with only a little bit of spatial confusion. You knew which bullpen was theirs immediately - you had yet to meet the team, but you’d seen pictures and heard enough stories to keep track of names and faces.

You quickly stepped through the glass doors, doing everything in your power to avoid directing too much attention to yourself. But alas, Aaron worked with profilers, and they all noticed you despite your best efforts. 

JJ’s head shot up. “Is that -”

“Hotch’s travel mug? Yeah.” Derek squinted at you as you took the stairs two at a time up to your boyfriend’s door. 

You knocked, and a crisp “Come in” sounded from inside. 

Aaron couldn’t hide his surprise when you poked your head through the door, stepping in and closing it behind you. He stood, circling the desk and leaning against it. 

Boundaries were important to him at work, you knew, so you refrained from untoward affection, stepping back to a respectable distance after you set his things next to the file on his desk. 

“How’d you get past security?” He asked, and you knew it was a joke. 

“I guess they’re letting just about anyone in, these days.” 

Aaron nodded, in facetious consternation. “Looks like it.” He broke after a moment, offering you a small smile. “Thank you. You didn’t have to come all the way out here.” 

You shrugged. “Wasn’t too hard.” 

He glanced out the blinds. The entire team averted their eyes, bumping into each other in their haste to look busy. 

You followed his gaze. “It’s okay, Aaron. Don’t feel pressured to introduce me to any of them - I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.” There was a little swoop in your stomach. 

Did I overstep?  

He sighed. “I know. You didn’t. It feels a little...ridiculous to be hiding anything from them after all this time.” He reached out, and you took his hand, still a couple of steps away. His eyes stayed on your linked hands as they swung a little between you. “I don’t mean to hide you from them.” 

You squeezed his hand with a warm, small smile. “I know.” And you did. It was big for him - explicitly and obviously coming out to his team was bound to be terrifying, and to add a new person on top of that? 

I don’t envy him. 

Meanwhile, down in the bullpen, everyone was taking turns reporting back on what was going on behind the blinds. 

“They’re holding hands, and not in a handshake way,” Emily said, covering her face with a folder as she looked up. 

JJ chanced a look. “He’s been a lot less uptight recently.”

“He’s also not coming in as early. His arrival time is, on average, about thirty-seven minutes later than five months ago.” 

Emily looked at Spencer like he’d grown another head. “You keep track of when we come in?” 

Spencer didn’t look up from his book. “Of course.” 

“I’m glad he has someone,” JJ noted lightly. “It’s good for him.”

Back up in the office, you took a step toward Aaron. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, my love.” 

He huffed a laugh and ran his thumbs over your knuckles. “Come to Dave’s the next time we all get together.” 

“Really?” Your eyebrows felt like they were going to meet your hairline they shot up so fast. 

“Yeah. They’d love to meet you.” 

Your brow furrowed, confused. “How do you know?”

He shrugged. “They’re very predictable.” 

+++

Needless to say, Aaron was right. They politely, pointedly, and casually posed questions about Hotch’s lunchtime visitor until he wasn’t able to avoid them anymore. Thus, he invited you to Dave’s the next time the team had a night off.

You were excited, but admittedly a little nervous. You were all headed to the car, Jack (very carefully) carrying the brownies you’d made that afternoon. 

He was chatting away, telling you stories you’d already heard, about JJ and Emily and Derek and Spencer and Dave and Henry and etc. etc. etc. 

You loved that kid. 

When Aaron pulled up to the house, Jack jumped out of the car and walked through the front door like he owned the place. It made you laugh. 

Aaron looked over, a fond smile on his face. “What?”

“Jack. He just -” you made a vague gesture with your hand - he just goes and goes, and Aaron laughed. 

After a moment, you two sobered. He reached for your hand, and you laced your fingers with his. 

“They’re going to love you. You know that.” 

You snorted. “I certainly don’t.”

Aaron kissed the back of your hand and covered it, so two of his hands were holding one of yours. “Are you ready?”

“Are you?”

He patted your hand twice by way of an answer, releasing you and opening his door. You followed suit, waiting for him on the sidewalk. 

When you actually looked, you realized how truly massive Dave’s house was. Aaron had told you he was well-off, with his book royalties and other savings, but the beautiful and tasteful mansion before you spoke to a bank account that had eight figures, rather than six. 

Aaron stepped forward and offered you his hand. You took it. He led you up the flagstone path and through the front door, opening it without preamble. 

The foyer was beautiful, opening to a staircase, the living room, and some kind of den or parlor off to the side. Aaron led you to the kitchen, where a statuesque woman with dark brown hair was mixing a drink. Emily. 

She turned when she heard you enter, and a wide smile broke out across her face. “Hi!” 

You dropped Aaron’s hand and offered it to her. She shook it readily, and you found yourself mirroring her smile. “Hi. Emily, right?”

She nodded, and spared a glance at Hotch. “Hotch, you know it’s polite to introduce guests.” 

He huffed in good humor and gestured pedantically as he spoke. “Emily, this is my boyfriend, Y/N. Y/N, Agent Emily Prentiss.” 

You were very impressed by his lack of hesitation over the word boyfriend, as it had been a topic of discussion in the past. 

“It’s so juvenile. I feel like I’m in high school.” Aaron chuckled, staring up at the ceiling with his hands laced behind his head. 

You rolled over onto his chest. “I can’t be your partner - you’ve already been a lawyer and I would hate to confuse people. You’re the one with a juris doctorate, not me.” You rested your chin on his pec, giving just a little more weight than was necessary. 

He dropped one of his arms, and you scooted up to fit nearly under it. “Is it at all weird to have a boyfriend in one’s forties?”

You shrugged. “I think it’s whimsical.” 

“Oh yeah, that’s me.” He laughed. “Whimsical in the extreme.” 

Emily’s voice was warm and genuine when she told you, “It’s a pleasure to meet the person who keeps him,” she jabbed her index finger at Hotch, “in line.”

You laughed, the anxiety melting little by little. “Bold of you to assume anyone can keep him in line.” 

She snorted. “Don’t I know it.”

Hotch crossed his arms over his chest. “Guys, I’m right here.” 

“And?” You and Emily answered simultaneously.

He shook his head with a smile. “C’mon. If you want to continue making fun of me, there’s plenty of ammunition out back.” 

You offered your arm to Emily, and she took it daintily. “Such a gentleman.” She looked over her shoulder as she started walking you to the back patio. “How’d you snag this one?”

“Apparently, he has a thing for charity cases,” Aaron deadpanned. 

A few pairs of eyes flickered to you when you stepped out, and Emily’s hand squeezed you reassuringly. You already loved her. 

Hotch came up to your side and grabbed your hand as Emily stepped away, stopped by two men who had to be Derek and Spencer (who needed a mediator for some inane, hair-splitting dispute they were having). 

A couple who you assumed were JJ and Will smiled at you as you approached. 

“JJ, Will, this is Y/N.” Hotch said, a little more confidence in his voice than before. 

“I’m the boyfriend,” you supplied, and JJ laughed. 

“I’m so glad you could make it!” She leaned close to you, and you dipped your head to listen. “We’ve been asking about you since you stopped by a couple of weeks ago.” 

You raised your chin in a knowing fashion as you leaned back, once again including Hotch and Will in the conversation. “Ah, I see. So there’s lore?”

“Definitely.” She pursed her lips in mock solemnity. 

You matched her facetious tone. “Don’t believe everything you hear.” 

JJ broke then, smiling at you once more. “I never make that mistake.” Just then, a little blond boy ran up to her, attaching himself to her leg. She automatically put a hand on his head and gestured to you. “Henry, can you say hello to Mr. Y/N? He’s a really special friend of Hotch’s - like Miss Savannah is to Derek.” 

“Hi.” 

You crouched to Henry’s level, offering your fist. A look of satisfaction crossed his face as you bumped fists, your hands exploding out of it (with sound effects). “It’s so nice to meet you, man. Were you playing soccer over there?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Jack’s really good but he lets me get goals.” 

“Wow.” You raised your eyebrows. “That’s really nice of him, and I bet you learn a lot, too.” 

Jack called Henry from across the yard, and he offered you one last adorable grin before sprinting off. You rose, checking in with Hotch as you did so. JJ and Will were distracted watching Henry for the moment, so they missed the awe that crossed Aaron’s face for just a moment. 

Your eyebrows pulled. What?

He shook his head. Nothing. But there was something there. Something fond and altogether content. 

You heard Emily come up behind you before you saw her, so you turned as she approached with Derek, Dave, and Spencer. 

You offered your hand first to Derek, and shot a smile to Spencer. Hotch had warned you before you left the house that Spencer didn’t shake hands. 

“Nice to meet you, man. Derek Morgan.” Morgan’s grip was firm and warm. “Emily was just telling me I owe you a thanks for reminding Hotch he has a sense of humor.” Derek’s smile ate up his whole face as he beamed at you. It very nearly stole your breath - he was stunning, and smart. The way he phrased his introduction made it unnecessary to re-introduce yourself, and you were sure that soothed whatever remained of Hotch’s anxiety. 

Hotch’s deadpan was decidedly dry. “Funny.”

That’s a good sign. 

Spencer was quiet, but there was a little smile playing at his lips. He looked just over your shoulder, and seemed to communicate with someone behind you for a moment. It was only the barest changes in expression, but you’d been around Aaron long enough to know a silent conversation when you saw one, no matter how subtle. The outcome of the conversation looked good, as Spencer stifled another smile and looked over at Hotch.

You then offered your hand to Dave, who took it in both of his. “It is so good to finally meet you.” He shot a sly smile at Hotch. “I was beginning to wonder if you were a figment of my imagination a couple weeks ago.” 

“I promise I am very real,” you said with a laugh. “It’s so great to meet all of you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“All bad I hope,” JJ chirped from over your shoulder as she approached. 

You nodded. “The worst.” 

Aaron kissed your temple as the rest laughed, and you could feel the small smile resting on his lips. He sure was smiling a lot tonight, and you couldn’t help but feel a little proud that you had a lot to do with it. 

A woman you could only assume was Penelope bounced up and swooped under Derek’s arm. “What did I miss?”

Hotch laughed (he laughed!) and introduced you. “Y/N, this is our tech analyst Penelope Garcia. Garcia, this is Y/N.”

Instead of a handshake, she just got out from under Derek’s arm and gave you a hug. You relaxed right into her. 

She let you go after a second, but kept her hands on your upper arms. “I am so glad you’re here. I’ve been hoping someone would come along and snag our fearless leader before too long.” She winked, and it warmed you. 

The rest of the evening flowed smoothly, eventually moving to the living room, and then to goodnights. Everyone wished you a warm goodbye, and Dave kissed you on both cheeks before letting you go. Jack was apparently spending the night at the Jareau-LaMontagne household, so you and Aaron were alone on the drive back. 

You relaxed into the seat as he sped along the highway, his hand locked in yours across the center console. “That was really fun.” You looked over at him, finding less tension in him than you’d ever seen before. “Your team is incredible.” 

“I know it. They’re the best at what they do.”

You kissed the back of Aaron’s hand. “I’ve heard it helps to have a great boss, or so Penelope tells me.”

He huffed a little laugh through his nose. “She is the authority on such things, as I understand it.” 

The car was quiet for a few minutes. 

“I - “ Hotch cleared his throat, but his gaze never wavered from the road. “I can’t tell you how much tonight meant to me.”

You squeezed his hand. “It was nothing.” You were lying, and he knew it, but at the end of the day, you’d do anything for him.  

He smiled, broad and genuine, and you decided then that Aaron’s joy was your favorite sight in the whole world. 

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @fics-ilike @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @saintd0lce @good-heavens-chris-evans @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @vintagecaptainspidey @micaiahmoonheart @ogmilkis @thatreallyis-americas-ass @marvels-agents100 @newtslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @joemazzello-imagines @pinkdiamond1016 @sebbybaby0 @lilsiswinchester @pan-pride-12 @hotchlinebling @lee-rin-ah @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @emmice9 @nohalohoseok @giveusbackourbucky @writerxinthedark @mrshotchnerrossimulder21 @bauslut @yourlovelynewsbian @sparklingkeylimepie @aili28 @kingandrear @reader4027 @spnobsessedmemes @rogers-mouth @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @hotchnersgoddess @buckybau @phoenixfyre374 @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandi-ass-prentiss @songbird400 @dontkissthewriter @ellyhotchner @a-dorky-book-keeper @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @ahopelessromantic @violentvulgarvolatile @swiftiesparkles @andreasworlsboring101 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses

[avaritia-apotheosis]

Phantom Children [DP x Batman Crossover] Ch. 2

In which: Danny thinks, Talia is concerned, and we finally see Ra's al Ghul's pride an joy: the Lazarus pit

AO3 | Prologue | 1 | [ 2 ] | 3 |

---

DANNY COUNTS THE DAYS by the hours he is in the monitor room. One hour is all that he is allowed. One hour after a day of learning and fighting, of ‘yes ma’am’ and ‘no sir’ and ‘stand up straighter, boy’ and ‘remember that you have feet.’ Of being handed a sword only to have it knocked out of his hand (pickitup-pickitup-pick-it-up). Of ‘here’s eight plants, only one of them is the antidote to the poison you just ingested, and you better hope you remember the difference because this is the life you live now, Danny.’ This is what you agreed to for some time in front of a few television screen.

One hour. Sixty minutes. Three thousand and six hundred measly fucking seconds was all he got to see his family before he’s ushered back to his room. Dark. Barren. Windowless.

God, when was the last time he saw the stars?

He spent his multitude of ‘one hours’ simply watching. That was all he could do, really. Watch and collect snatches of Amity—of Before. Like torn pieces of an antique photograph, unable to be restored but too precious to throw away.

Talia would call him too sentimental. Danny would love to remind Talia that if it wasn’t for her and her freaky older-than-dirt dad, Danny wouldn’t even need to be fucking sentimental.

Breathe in for four. Hold for seven. Breathe out for eight.

Repeat.

Repeat again.

One more time.

There’s a voice in Danny’s head that sounded too much like Jazz telling him that this kind of behavior was unhealthy. The Jazz in Danny’s head didn’t exactly know why, though they’re both pretty sure that constantly watching your family and friends move on after your death probably isn’t good for one’s sanity. Especially since Danny isn’t really dead.

Well.

Dead-er.

He isn’t—

(family-love-mememe-why aren’t they looking harder-don’t they care-they care-for their own good-what about-happy-no-me-them-me-them).

Truth be told, Danny isn’t angry that everyone in Amity seemed to be getting on with their lives. God, he’s seen how his suppsed-death affected them. He can’t—he won’t be responsible for holding them back from living when he can’t even be sure if he’ll ever be able to return to Amity again.

(He’s seen what happens when someone refuses to move on. Hell, the Zone is full of it. It’s either you obsess with grief…or you try to rip it out of yourself entirely.)

Danny wanted them to live on. Be happy. (With him.)The FentonWorks portal remained under constant vigilance, and since Pariah Dark, most ghosts recognized Amity as his haunt and tended to stay away. With any major threats he could only hope that Clockwork would step in somehow and at least keep it contained. Tucker and Sam were more than capable enough to handle most of his regular rogues gallery, especially if Red Huntress was backing them up too.

Amity…didn’t really need Danny anymore to protect it.

(Family-happy-protectprotectprotect-what?-safe-not safe-not needed).

For all that they tried to find out, Danny, Sam, and Tucker never did manage to figure out what his ghostly obsession was. Sam went out on a limb and said Heroism which…wasn’t quite right but fit the bill well enough.

And what was the point of heroes?

To build a world where they aren’t needed.

------

There was a noticeable shift in her son’s demeanor after he learned of the true nature of his parentage. Though it should be noted that while Talia showed a photograph of her beloved to Daniel, she did not disclose his true identity as to Ra’s al Ghul’s orders. Her father reasoned that it was more advantageous for Daniel to develop a closer connection with the maternal side of his family as opposed to the Waynes—a name that would be more familiar and thus better viewed than the strange people who kidnapped him.

No; ‘Recovered’ would be the most appropriate term. Daniel was her child. Would always be her child, no matter who raised him.

Daniel was…quieter. Somber. His eyes glazed yet sharp—blue eyes bloodshot despite maintaining a regular sleep schedule. Like pit madness with neither the madness nor the pit; simply the look of rage that bubbles beneath the skin, close to boiling over yet never there.

He continued to watch his false family obsessively. Yet…he had taken to watching Talia as well. Quietly. Unobtrusively. Small glances at the corner of his eye. Contemplative looks with furrowed brows whenever he presumed she did not notice. He had even taken to meticulously check his reflection in the mirror; pinching cheeks and turning his face this way and that, cataloguing his features as if to find what parts of him was from her—or perhaps if there was any part of him that ever resembled the paranormal scientists he once called parents.

Even if the physical similarities were not there, the DNA testing—regardless of the anomalies found in Daniel’s genes—was proof enough that he was her son.

“You have been keeping with your diet regimen, yes?” Asked one of the League’s physicians. He pressed his gloved fingers against Daniel’s skin, brushing the ridges of his ribcage. Marring her son’s skin was a large, faint scars. Fractals branching across his torso like the branches of a gruesome tree. “You are still too thin.”

“Fast metabolism,” Daniel mumbled. He is sat on an examination table in their medical wing, black shirt neatly folded beside him. His figure, though not skeletal, per se, was gaunt. His ribs poking from his pallor skin, stomach still concave for a boy who ate double the portions than any other member of the League of Assassins. “I’ve had it since the accident, but it’s never gotten this bad.”

The physician hummed, jotting his notes down along side the results of Danny’s vitals. The exact numbers were unknown to Talia, standing as she was by the door, though she could infer the results from previous physical examinations. (Low blood pressure and core body temperature. Faint pulse, slight tachycardia,) “Do you have any ideas why?”

Daniel’s lips thinned, eyes darting to the side as he always did whenever Phantom was related in anyway. His face was too open; Talia needed to train him out of that. “My…” He took a deep breath. “Ghosts aren’t supposed to stay very long in the Material world. It lacks the ectoplasmic energies that helps them ‘stay alive,’ so to speak. Usually they can supplement some of this by filtering some of the ambient energy in the atmosphere to strengthen themselves—it’s why Amity was such a hotspot for ghosts because of the large concentration of ectoplasm in the atmosphere—but it still isn’t a good long term solution.”

He scratched the back of his head. “Since I’m still somewhat human, I’m able to spend way more time in the Material world and can substitute spending days in the Zone by instead filtering ambient energy and eating.”

The physician made another noise, the tip of his pen tapping against the side of the clipboard. “So I take it then that, as your other half doesn’t have access to this ‘ambient energy’ as you call it, it is forced to take what energy it needs from the calories you’ve consumed, yes?”

“Basically.”

“What will happen if you do not have enough calories to supplement this energy?”

Danny shrugged, a rueful smile on his face. “Dunno. Maybe this time, death will stick.”

Talia narrowed her eyes.

Such a thing will not happen. She had been forced to give up on Daniel once, and then later on she lost her youngest to her beloved. Never again.

This child was hers.

------

“Father, did you not say that the anomalies found in Daniel’s DNA were similar in composition to the Lazarus pit?”

Ra’s al Ghul did not pause in pause in his reading to look up at Talia. The bird shaped magnifying glass held steady above the ancient manuscripts spread across his desk, eyes focused on the words and figures carefully inked onto the page. “Yes.” He set aside the magnifying glass and gently flipped the page. “It is what strengthened my belief of the connection between the Lazarus pit and these spirits.”

Talia straightened. “With your permission I would like to place Daniel into the pit.”

Her fathered looked up, curious. “You forget what the pit does to those who are in good health.”

She placed the results of Daniel’s most recent physical exam on to of his desk. Ra’s sat back in his chair and idly flipped through the folder, reading the contents as if no different to reading the newspaper instead of how his grandson is slowly being starved by his own biology. “Well, well. This would be a problem.”

He closed the folder, a wry grin curling at his lips. “Have him ready for tomorrow. I am curious as to how the pit would affect one already half-dead.”

------

Danny is awoken by Talia sometime the next day. “Come,” she said. “You do not need to change, so come quickly.”

He got off the bed with a silent groan, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the heel of his palm. “Where are we going?”

“Not far. Somewhere that will help you.”

He snorted. “Letting me go home would help me.”

Talia doesn’t answer, simply waiting for him at the door. Danny groaned, combing away as much of his bedhead with his fingers as he followed her.

For the first time since being dragged to Nanda Parbat, Danny is allowed to venture beyond his small section of the compound.

He didn’t really know what to expect.

Still didn’t stop everything from being so…anticlimactic.

Beyond the steel door, normally kept locked and guarded by two of his shadow guards, was a hallway. Endlessly long with a wide pathway, lit enough by the fluorescent lights overhead but not enough to banish the shadows that clung to the stone walls. The hallway looked empty. ‘Looked’ being the key word, here. Even if he couldn’t see them, Danny would bet on his half-life that the shadows were teeming with life.

Talia led the way through the maze of twists and turns (were they underground?), a couple of shadow guards quietly following behind them.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

Talia looked at him from over her shoulder for a moment, then turned away. “Have you heard of the Lazarus pits?”

“Lazarus? Like the guy who came back to life?” Neither of his parents were really religious. His dad only really Baptist in name because he was born into a Baptist family that, too, wasn’t overly strict in their religion. The only reason why Danny knew of this Lazarus guy was because of Mr. Lancer’s unit on Greco-Roman and Christian allusions.

Talia nodded, turning a corner. “The Lazarus pits are natural pools with restorative properties, capable of rejuvenating the body, healing grievous injuries, and even bringing the dead back to life.”

Danny nearly tripped over his own feet. “What? That’s—” Impossible. He ran up to Talia, wildly gesticulating with his hands. “What’s dead is dead. Resurrecting the dead goes against the natural law of the universe!”

“Well, you seem to be doing fine.”

He frowned, crossing his arms. “That’s different. I’m still dead, even if my entire existence seems like the but end of a Schrodinger’s joke.”

“Be that as it may, what I speak is truth.” She stopped in front of a door and opened it. Then, stepping aside to usher Danny in first. “See of yourself.”

Danny stepped inside, Talia following behind him, and—

Oh.

Before he even saw the pit, he could feel it. A low and steady hum reminiscent of the ghost portal. But…different. Not necessarily fainter but garbled, like hearing someone speak underwater.

The room was a large, open space, with stone walls framed by red wooden pillars. It was dim, lit only by the green glow of the pit that consumed the majority of the space. A square pool of too-clear waters and toxic-looking steam rising from the surface.

The waters felt of the Zone but…not.

“Ah, Daniel.” He nearly jumped out of his own skin. Ra’s al Ghul stepped out of the shadows behind him, hands folded behind his back. The green glow highlighted the sharp contours of his face; the shadows that clung to him only making his visage harsher. “It is good to see you.”

Danny greeted the Demon’s Head with a League salute. “Grandfather.”

The word felt foreign on his tongue despite being in English. To formal for a boy who never really had the chance to interact with his own grandparents. But Danny was told to refer to Ra’s like this, and so he did. (He was only grateful Talia didn’t insist on calling her ‘mother.’)

Ra’s al Ghul was an enigma. Centuries old yet he looked only about a decade older than his mom and dad. (Jack and Maddie Fenton will always be his mom and dad. They raised him. Loved him, in their own eccentric, science-y way. No blood test or adoption or ninja-assassins could change that). Like Danny’s still-unnamed biological father, Ra’s carried himself with theatrical purpose. Comically villainous in his attire and grand gestures, though unlike Vlad, Ra’s had this overwhelmingly intimidating presence that engulfed whatever room he stepped in.

Ra’s was a man that commanded attention as opposed to demanding it. And now, at the focus of the man’s calculating gaze, Danny could not help but stand stiff at attention.

“You’re mother was right,” Ra’s said. Danny barely restrained himself from perking up at that word. “You are wasting away, Daniel.”

Tell me something I don’t know.

“Well, at least you still have that fire in you.”

Danny startled, slapping his hand over his mouth. Shit, he didn’t know he said that out loud. Out of the corner of his eye, Talia suppressed a small smile.

“You have that in common with the Detective,” Ra’s continue, circling Danny like a carrion that spotted its next meal. “That and the rather foolish notion on not properly reporting the extent of your injuries.”

“With all due respect, grandfather, I wasn’t expecting on staying here for this long.”

Ra’s gave him a knowing look. “But something is keeping you here, isn’t it?”

“Keeping my family and friends hostage is a pretty good motivator, apparently.” An insidious thought bubbled in Danny’s mind. But that isn’t all, is it?”

“I have consulted your mother and your physician as to the nature of your condition, and I have decided that the Lazarus pit would be a sufficient way to restore your health.” He gestured to the pool. “It appears that your DNA shares several similarities to the composition to the Lazarus pit.”

Danny crouched at the edge of the pit, hovering his hand above the water’s surface. “It’s because it contains ectoplasm. An impure kind, I think.”

“Will the impurities be harmful to you?”

He pursed his lips. “I don’t think so? My body can filter out the impurities just fine, it’s just that I’ve never encountered thistype of ectoplasm before. It’s so clear and—aqueous, I think is the word.”

There’s a strange glint in Ra’s eyes. Dare Danny say it, it even looked mischievous. It made him uneasy, and just as Danny made a move to step back, Ra’s al Ghul picked him up by the collar of his night shirt—

And threw Danny into the Lazarus Pit.

[47-shades-of-hitman]

In Your Likeness | Chapter 6 - Bruised ego and painful memories

Agent 47 sat idly on a chair in Mr Howard’s office, facing Diana, who had taken place behind it per Howard’s earlier insistence. She had a pile of papers in front of her, her fingers steepled together under her chin, auburn hair tucked neatly into her trademark bun. The navy of her dress was nearly black in the dim light of the lamp standing a little away, which was emitting an odd, orange light.

“So, what have you learned so far? Any ideas on how you plan on bringing this mission to a successful end? Thoughts on your partner?”

He cleared his throat. “Miss (L/n) is… Kind. We’ve been training together for a few days now.”

“How does she fight? Capable enough?” Diana quizzed, jotting something down onto a file with a fountain pen the same shade as her nails.

“I believe so. It’s surprising how fast and agile she is.”

“Very good.” Diana gestured towards 47. “Elaborate, if you will.”

Agent 47 shifted in his seat.

“She’s cunning and quick and uses techniques I would never have thought of. Did you know that the best Assassins can perform something named a Leap of Faith? They throw themselves off somewhere high and then land safely in shrubbery or something soft, as if they’re diving. It’s fast and efficient – where I lack quick climbing skill, never really needing it, she can be on top of a large building in a matter of seconds and leap back off before I can even reach halfway up.”

“Higher grounds.” Diana commented. “Efficient in the art of scaling, then. Anything else?”

“Their wrist-blades. I believe she calls it a hidden blade. When she flicks her wrist, it expands and can easily stab someone a few inches deep. Convenient for quick attacks.”

Diana nodded, seemingly impressed by the findings. “That’s it?”

“No. She uses her enemies’ bodies to get herself where she needs to be, that way she can successfully throw people off, stagger and kill with just one move. It’s interesting to analyse.”

“Do you feel like you’re able to go on your first mission together, then? Did you read the files I handed you earlier?”

“I can do it on my own, too,” 47 said, “since the contract consists of just two targets.”

“Nothing of that, 47. This first mission is meant to see how you’re working together in the field. Should things not work out or get out of hand, the damage isn’t too severe and we know that we should find another way of solving Caelum. For now, this is what – and whom – you have to work with.”

 A little away, you sat in Miranda’s office, flicking through the documents regarding the mission at hand – Karl Wasserman and his new wife Georgina Johnson, owners of a high-end perfume line, found themselves in fraudulent affairs with an Egyptian whitewashing company and thus, a client wanted to see them out of business.

It wasn’t too bad, but to you it was quite new; The Brotherhood of Assassins never really worked with contracts requested by individuals – your mission laid with maintaining peace for the public and protecting it at all costs. A killer for hire was not something you saw yourself as.

“(Y/n), the Eldest requires your presence.” Miranda informed you, typing away at her computer. “He says to meet him in his office in a few minutes.”

“Okay.” you said, standing up and putting away the folder.

You set for the Eldest’s office and found yourself standing at the door, waiting for Mr Howard.

Hearing muffled voices, you recognized one to belong to 47 and the other to Diana. It was difficult to make out, but you caught a few lines nevertheless.

“…But coming back to the subject of agility. Scaling buildings and parkour, is it something you can see yourself doing?”

“I’m not too sure. Miss (L/n) seems eager to teach me, but our way has proven to be perfect for decades. Why change it now?”

“You need to know each other’s methods to prevent miscommunication and confusion.”

You raised an eyebrow, not too amused with hearing of his doubts, but then, you thought it wasn’t too great of a plan either. Sure, Agent 47 was a skilled killer, you had to give him that, and he hadn’t done anything unkind to you other than aiming a gun at you during your first meeting.

In the end, you were both lone wolves. What good would it do to actually go on missions together which didn’t directly affect Caelum, like the contract you had just studied? You’d only weigh each other down.

“This is a situation none of us had foreseen.” Diana said, “We just need to deal with it in this way now. It’s too dangerous to send you both in individually. You know Providence, but you don’t know the Templars. Miss (L/n) knows the Templars, but not Providence. Both of our institutions do not fully trust each other blindly, so we agreed upon sending both sides into the battlefield. Plus, this is too large to tackle on your own. We need an extra pair of eyes.”

“Couldn’t you have asked Lucas?” 47 quizzed.

“No,” Diana said, “We need him for other things in this project. And as I said, both compan—”

“Are you eavesdropping?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at a sudden, unknown voice behind you. Instincts kicking in, you moved within a second, slamming the stranger against the wall, hidden blade at their throat. It was a man in his early-to-mid fifties – wholly unfamiliar to you – with salt-and-pepper-coloured hair and stormy eyes.

“Who are you? You don’t work here.”

You angled your blade a little, allowing him to move his head a bit upwards, away from it.

“My name is Lucas Grey. I arrived here this morning. I’m part of operation Shalom.”

You huffed, releasing him immediately as you recognized the name, embarrassment creeping up your cheeks and neck. “Right... I ah… I apologise.”

“No harm done. You must be Miss (L/n), then.”

You nodded and crossed your arms, stepping away from him.

“They’re in there, in case you were wondering.”

“You haven’t answered my question yet.” Lucas stated.

“Beg your pardon?”

“Were you eavesdropping on them?”

“No.” you lied, “I was waiting for them to be done discussing whatever they’re talking about. Mr Howard told me to meet him here in a bit.”

As if on cue, the doors of the office swung open and revealed both Diana and 47.

“Ah, I see you met Mr Grey.” Diana said.

“Yeah.” you replied, mentally adding ‘and he met my blade’, feeling ashamed regarding your childish response to his sudden appearance, even though he had said that there was no harm done.

Mr Howard approached and gestured towards the room so that you would enter.

Your gaze briefly crossed 47’s and you gave him an awkward smile, passing him and sitting down in the chair where he had been sitting previously. It was still warm-

-Wait, why would you even notice that? You shifted a little.

Diana and Mr Howard exchanged some quick words.

Meanwhile, 47 and Lucas stood a little behind them, muttering amongst themselves, and then briefly looked at you. You threw one leg over the other to shield your discomfort while you wondered if they were talking about you. Activating your eagle eye to focus on their conversation didn’t help at all, either.

Mr Howard soon entered the office and closed the doors, breaking your line of vision.

“So, (Y/n). We have a lot to go over.”

You hummed in agreement, folding your hands in your lap. “What do you want to know, sir?”

“How are you experiencing this alliance so far?”

“Well, Agent 47 is certainly a man who knows what he’s doing. He’s capable albeit a bit stiff, but there is potential to work together, sir.”

Mr Howard sat down and put on his reading glasses, running a hand through his beard.

“What’s his way of operating?”

“Silent, unseen, avoiding collateral damage as much as possible. The ICA holds a whole arsenal of resources he can use, varying from explosives to poisons and melee weapons. It’s interesting. Sir.”

Mr Howard nodded, scribbling something down. He looked up at you expectantly, waiting for you to continue.

“He told me he uses disguises as well. Knocks people out and takes their clothes in order to blend in, sir.”

You rubbed your arm and leaned back a little. “He hides in plain sight, sir.”

“Does he use higher or lower grounds?”

“Lower, sir.” Mr Howard wrote something down.

“Do you see yourself working on a contract with him?”

“Sir, I am not sure if this is what we stand for as the Brotherhood of Assassins. The people involved are all elite, they don’t intervene with the peace of the common people and—”

“That is none of your concern, (Y/n). A contract is a contract and you are going to fulfil it together.”

You swallowed thickly and nodded.

“You need to show us how you collaborate on the work field, hence why we have given you such a simple contract to carry out. We need to see if this goes well before trying to tackle anything greater. Behind the scenes, we’re preparing a lot. Your opinions on the matter are in this case to be disregarded of. Do you understand me?”

You bowed your head. “Naturally, sir. I apologise for doubting your choices, sir.”

Mr Howard put down his pen and folded his hands in front of him.

“(Y/n), I need to ask you something.”

“Of course.”

You straightened your back, shifting to the edge of your chair.

“You know that I am growing older. Next spring, I’ll be seventy-five years of age. In five years, I am retiring from my work as the Eldest of Council. We need new members on the Council, and I wanted to ask you if you were open to that. You’ll start in the lowest rank, of course, but you’ll be able to climb over time. That way, our people can shift one rank up and you’ll be added.”

Your eyes widened at the suggestion. “Oh, you’re catching me off-guard, sir. That is quite the request you’re making.”

He kindly smiled at you. “We want you to become a teacher and mentor as soon as you turn forty.” Your stomach churned – it would mean that you’d be given less action and mainly teaching, but your body would eventually not allow that much action anymore, anyway – “And also take up a position in the Council. You’re one of the best Assassins we’ve ever had, and given that there are no descendants to the (L/n) line, we need you to teach the younger ones.”

Biting back a sarcastic remark on both you and your brother being childless, you once again bowed your head. “I’m honoured, sir. Do you allow me to think it over?”

“Of course,” he replied, “But know this. In order for you to be promoted, we need you to work along with Operation Shalom. Give us your all.”

“Always, sir.” you said, “Is there anything else you need to know, sir?”

“For now, you’re dismissed.” he said, “If I require your presence, you’ll know.”

You stood and straightened your back, bidding the Eldest of Council a good day before leaving the office.

 You didn’t feel like seeking out 47, opting for the training hall on your own.

Hearing him talk about not really needing you during his mission had struck a raw nerve –

 “- I don’t need you, (Y/n). Trust me, I’ve got this.”

 You closed your eyes, slamming down onto the punching bag with immense force.

Your mind was there again; Half a decade ago, the evening before your brother headed on the mission that would turn out to be his last. Anger and sorrow tugged at your heartstrings with every blow you punched into the bag, crying out behind the force of your protected fists.

 “Joseph, I don’t mind coming along. An extra pair of blades will only make it easier.”

“You have plenty of other things to do. And it will be good for me to slash up some Templars to take my mind off… You know.”

 Sweat travelled down your brow as you kicked your leg up at liver-height, the chains holding the bag up rattling at the disturbance.

 “Okay. Be careful, Joey.”

“Of course, (Y/n)-ey. I know what I’m doing.”

 Your flushed, sweaty cheeks masked the single tear escaping your eye perfectly.

You felt your wrist jolt in pain, but no matter – it was nothing compared to the pain of grief tugging tearing at your heart.

With a groan, you concluded your onslaught on the training bag, panting heavily, wiping your brow with the towel that hung around your neck.

“Are you alright?”

Sebastian approached with in his hand a bottle of cold water, handing it to you.

Quickly taking off the wrappings around your hands, you smiled and took it, gulping it down greedily.

“I’m fine. Just a bit… Frustrated with some annoying Templars who pushed my buttons this morning.” you lied. It felt bad to not tell him the truth, but secrecy was important.

“Did they provoke you?”

“They eventually regretted trying to do so.”

Seb chuckled a little. “That’s the (Y/n) I know!”

A smirk tugged at your lips and you buried your face into the towel, patting away the sweat.

“So, what’s new today?”

“Ah, nothing really.” Sebastian responded. “Laura cut a wrong wire which caused his internet to be fucked up for the rest of the morning.”

“Typically Laura.” you sighed, rolling your eyes.

“Women, am I right?” Seb jokingly added, earning a lethal glare from you.

“I’m only kidding, women are perfectly capable of—”

“I know, Seb!” you laughed, hitting his chest playfully.

He grabbed your wrist and pushed you back a little.

“Wanna fight, huh?” you taunted with a grin, causing him to hop into a fighting stance, and you were about to lightly jab at his stomach when you heard someone clearing their throat behind you.

“Am I interrupting something?” 47 asked.

“Most certainly not.” you dryly replied, your playful demeanour replaced by severity.

“Ah, Tobias, this is Sebastian, he works in IT. Seb, this is Tobias, the exchange Assassin I told you about.”

They shook each other's hand a bit awkwardly, and Sebastian backed away slightly.

“I’ll eh… I’ll leave you two be.”

“Thank you for the water.” you told him upon his departure, but he rushed away with sudden urgency, seemingly uncomfortable.

“That’s your friend, then?”

You nodded. “He’s a bit of a dork, but I love him like family.”

47 hummed. “I supposed that we would meet up to discuss our mission.”

“Of course,” you said, “But I feel like I should shower first. Meet me upstairs in twenty.”

Agent 47 agreed on that idea to be best.

You withdrew to your bathroom, stripping down, running a quick shower.

After refreshing, you went to see 47, finding him where you had told him to meet you.

“Come with me.” you said, leading him to a more secluded area where you could talk over your files in peace, without Council members scurrying around, which would only cause distraction by typing away at documents and making phone calls.

 “Sit.” you gestured to an empty seat, putting the folder on the large table in the middle of the room, stepping over to the wall to reveal the expanse of a skylight in the ceiling, water floating on top of it, appearing to the outside world as a pond. It allowed light to stream into the room and you sighed. “That’s better.”

You sat down next to 47, unfolding the papers in front of you, laying them out on the surface of the table.

“Karl Wasserman and Georgina Johnson. Newly wed, hopelessly in love, inseparable.” you said, turning to the hitman next of you.

“What can you tell me about how this works? Contracts, I mean. I rarely prepare this thoroughly for missions. Schedules always change, anyway. All I need are my eagle vision and my hidden blades. Never have any trouble.” Well, that was a lie, “Usually.” you added.

“Well, as you may have noticed, the ICA has received a contract from a client. Diana has collected all intel for me and then leaves me to prepare. I pick a few items to bring and let her know what I need. Then, I’m sent out to the target’s location and either slip in or go undercover.”

“A lot of work, then.” you mused. “How do you handle emergencies? Collateral damage and all?”

Agent 47 let out a sound. “Differently than you. The first time I ran into you, you had killed a whole bunch of politicians.”

“They were all Templars. My target happened to be among them.”

“So you don’t kill just your target?”

“It’s collateral damage we’re talking about, 47. Not actual enemies. Those Templars were my enemies.”

“How can you be sure that they were connected to them?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, “No, the large Templar cross stitched on their sleeves isn’t a dead giveaway.”

47 was unaffected by your scowl.

“Right. I suppose that’s where we differ. I only kill my target and you kill your target plus all the Templars you encounter.”

“One Templar less is one step closer to protecting the Pieces of Eden. Are you telling me that you’ve never had to kill someone else while on a mission?”

“Of course I did.”

“Well, then. What’s the problem?” you snapped, prickly.

“There is no problem. It will be if you make it one.” he calmly stated.

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “Fine. Let’s just go over this contract and get it over with. It’s not like you need me, anyway.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he quizzed.

“I overheard you talking to Diana.”

“You were eavesdropping.”

“No—Actually, yeah, but that’s not the point, I’m just…”

You deeply inhaled, not wanting to let your chagrin take the better of you. You were an adult, for fuck’s sake, and the last thing you wanted to be petty to an assassin you tried building a friendship with. Ageing did not cause it to be easier to make friends.

And so you sighed, folding your hands in front of you. “I’m sorry.” you said. “I let my emotions become the better of me, it’s just… I don’t like feeling unnecessary.”

“Why do you think you’re unnecessary?”

“You said you’d rather do this contract alone.  That I’d only weigh you back.”

“Well, don’t you think of it the same way, then? That you’d rather go on your own as well?”

You were overreacting – you knew it, but it had triggered some locked away memories about your brother. It was too soon to pour out your heart, let alone to a man who you barely knew and who didn’t know how emotion worked, and thus, you bit your lip, swallowing it away.

“We both aren’t too happy with those circumstances. Let’s just make the best of it. The sooner it’s done with, the better, right?”

47 agreed with a nod.

You reached for your papers, seeking intel on the first target, but you flinched as your hand hit the side of the table in your movement. You had forgotten about punching the bag the wrong way earlier.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” you said, holding your wrist. “Just a little accident during my earlier training. It’ll be gone by tomorrow.”

Agent 47 looked at your hand. “Let me see.” he stated, not even a question. He gently took your wrist in his hand, his skin surprisingly warm to the touch. His fingers were soft safe from his trigger finger, which now traced along the purpling hue on your wrist. “That seems like quite the bruise.” he muttered. “Maybe try some ice-”

“I said that it will be fine. Stuff like this happens all the time. I’m sure that one of my toes has been broken before, too, but I’ve never gotten it checked out. It’s still a little crooked, but it barely hurts anymore. This is not even half as bad and will be gone soon.”

“If you say so.” 47 said, releasing your hand, turning back to the table. “Let’s talk about Karl Wasserman. Have you thought of any method you’d prefer to use?”

You soon joined in, discussing your findings, yet your hand laid limply in your lap, utterly relaxed despite the slight pain you felt. Your skin was turning blue and angry, but for some reason, 47’s touch lingered.

Shaking it off, you focused on the matter at hand, deciding upon the way Wasserman should die.

[murfeelee]

Simblr Asks - TS3

Saw these questions by Teauke on my dash, and y’all know I love talking/ranting about The Sims; let’s go! ^0^

1. how big is your mods folder?

That’s my mods folder with only mods/hacks/overrides; no CAS or build/buy CC installed. It’s a miracle that nothing conflicts, at least not as far as I can tell.

2. how would you describe your style? A sporadic mix of tv/gaming fandom-inspired conversions and recreations, of mostly fanciful and/or cultural themes & genres.

3. What is your favorite challenge? I’m a builder at heart, so I love recreating lots and interiors. Challenges where we find IRL rooms/scenes and remake them in TS3 are always the most fun for me.

4. do you make cc? if so, what kind? I make fanciful & cultural custom content (occult, sci-fi, boho, etc). I make CAS CC sometimes, but I prefer making buy/build CC.

5. what type of cc do you hoard? Not everything, but a lot. As creators retire and links die, I’m even more paranoid than I already was that CC will no longer be available anywhere.

6. what default eyes and skin do you use? I don’t use default-replacement skintones, but I do use Buhudain’s You Are Real mod.

As for eye defaults, I absolutely love Moonskin’s Shiny Glass replacements.

7. how many urls have you had, and what are the meanings behind them? All of my simming URLs on MTS, TSR, the officials, and Tumblr are some variation of my first name, Murfee Lee. Because yes, I am that darn creative.

8. who is your favorite gameplay blog? 9. who is your favorite storytelling blog? Ugh, there are too many good ones out there.

10. who is your favorite cc creator? All of my favorite creators retired years ago: DyM/Hekate999 (fantasy build/buy), Parsimonious (everything), Luna (everything build/buy), Qingshuangtongzi (Asian everything), Amethyst (Asian CAS), Art-Sims (CAS everything), etc. I swear, the day Sandy/ATS3 (everything build/buy) retires is the day I’m having a panic attack.

11. how do you edit your photos? Badly. Tweak the brightness & contrast and call it a effing day.

12. what is the last screenshot you took? It’s a surprise.

13. what do you do when you are unmotivated? I am never “unmotivated,” so much as I am distracted. I think the reason I’ve simmed so long is strictly because I’m always inspired by fandoms. If I get distracted by a tv/game, it becomes my next muse (aka current obsession). It’s not that I get unmotivated to finish the old stuff I pretty much abandon, it’s just that there aren’t enough hours in the day for me to do everything I want. Sometimes I return to older saves/gameplay. Most times I don’t though--unless someone messages me wanting to see it again (and that’s effing rare). 

14. who is your current favorite sim? Sakura and Nasir are my alltime favorite sims. But I must admit that I patted myself on the back pretty dang hard when I created Tsukihime-Sama for my Moon Medicine gameplay. I love every sim I made for that gameplay (which I really need to finish one day, ugh), but my Lunar Moth Goddess? 👌

15. who is your current favorite sim that is not by you? Every sim that @obscurus-noctem​​ is out here sacrificing goats in order to create. It’s just disgusting how pretty everything on their blog is. Those mersims? Those graphics? That editing? Makes me effing sick. 

16. recreate someone else’s sim in your style. I think I saw a challenge like this a few months/years ago, but never did it. But I DID do the Picrew version.

17. do you talk about sims with people in real life? One of my professors plays SimCity. Naturally, we bonded over how wack EA is. ^_^

18. how many of the packs do you own? All of them, except the Stuff Packs. Barring Fast Lane and Movie Stuff, none of the other SPs are worth the price; it’s just build/buy/CAS CC any MaxisMatch creator.could make for free. I’ve always felt that way about SPs, which is why I never bothered with them in TS1 or TS2 either. I will say though, that TS4′s SPs are something else entirely, which brings me to #24 (see below).

19. how many posts do you have on your blog currently? 2764. JESUS.

20. how many drafts do you have on your blog currently? 363. U_U And most of those are CC sets & gameplay posts I never finished.  

21. how many posts are in your queue currently? It’s a secret. ^_^

22. have you ever moved blogs? Never. I never even changed my theme or URL.

23. are you in any sims related discord servers? Yes, the Creators Cave, but I effing hate Discord; it’s just a royal pain to navigate, IMO.

24. what are your thoughts on the most recent pack? (paranormal) Speaking of Stuff Packs!

RANT ALERT!

If anything, TS4′s SPs are doing way too much (adding new gameplay, careers, lifestates/NPCs, lots, etc!? WUT.) Or rather, its EPs aren’t doing nearly enough. I love that TS4′s SPs add meaningful content. But if they’re raising their bar, that means the Expansion Packs need to rise by the same degree, to stay relevant, if anything.

But EA, in their infinite ineptitude, seems to be scaling back with their EPs! Cutting what should be 1 cohesive EP into multiple SPs & GPs piecemeals the content and cheats people out of money, by having us pay more for less! The TS4 SPs do a lot, yes, but now let’s talk about the Paranormal SP for example:

Paranormal Stuff does perhaps the most any SP in The Sims 1/2/3/4 ever has, and has by far the most worth for its money...but at a dire cost:

- the career only has 5 levels instead of 10 (thus being nowhere as deep as TS3′s combination of the Ambition EP’s Ghost Hunter and the Store’s crystal ball--which links with the Supernatural EP’s Spellcasting skill)

the crystal ball is a 1-trick pony

unlocking Bonehilda is tied to grinding skill/career levels, only for her to do EFF ALL once she finally arrives (and her face looks like melted cookie dough WTF)

most of the gameplay is tied to the pack’s new lot/venue

and the ghosts are still meh

So rather than TS4 having an actual Supernatural EP, instead it has the ok-but-disappointing Realm of Magic Game Pack (which I’ve already ranted about), the watered-down Paranormal Stuff Pack, and the INCREDIBLY OP Vampires Game Pack (which I’ve salivated over). That’s already $40--the cost of TS3′s Supernatural Expansion Pack, mind you--but with the glaringly absent inclusion of Fairies, Werewolves, AND Zombies. O_O WHAT THE HELL, EA. To get the full Supernatural experience in TS4 is gonna end up running people not $40, but perhaps DOUBLE, if werewolves & fairies get their own GPs (unless EA waters them down in SPs, which would still be anywhere from $50-60). EA is robbing people blind.

25. how many hours have you played sims? I have no idea, no doubt thousands.

26. if you play gameplay, do you play with mods? See #1 above

27. what’s the farthest you’ve gotten in a challenge? See #3 above.

Thanks for reading!