#bowl under my mouth so brb

[werehamburglar]

fine, okay, i'll put on my sunglasses, turn on darkreader, and be responsible. i'll put my money where my mouth is for ONCE. grumble grumble.

[luminous-shifting-vibes]

*sequel* to actual fucking quotes from the shiftblr coffeehouse discord server

once again, it's out of context because x1000 funnier

also x1000 longer than previous post

"ur satan is gnc af"

"Bestie I’m already having gender envy over a fucking demon please"

"O_O ODEPIJHFbavevisdpvfhzdcnjawedsidjksjdkoeirjfmkdsoeirujdksodifjndmksoidfjdksidfj ITS" NOT IN MY FRAFTS IS SPEDNT 1 hour PN THAT SHIT"

"AUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

"ohoho sexy"

"I am very proud of myself"

"himbo x edgy fuck"

"YOU COULD SQUISH HES CHEECKS"

"he has teefs"

"SQUASH"

"good for biting 📷"

"he's a himbo basically"

"B͂̒̄iͫ̍̈tͧ̓ͯè̄̇"

"bifth"

"i havent watched blue exorcist in years but mr okumura my beloved </3"

"MY LIFE QUESTIONS HAVE BEEN ANSWERED"

"is it important information to mention that the person i put up for my turn is the son of satan" "I know like 1 thing about everyone who isnt ranboo lmfao"

"crimes"

"tumblr sexyman"

"idk why but my first thought was cowboy onceler"

"I vibe with him but he is very long and twisty"

"steampunk e-girl"

"steampunk tumblr sexyman"

"Canonically bi crimelord I agree!!"

"OOO FRIEND SHAPED"

"ARTIST SIGHTED"

"they look like someone i would want to be friends with but is way cooler than me so i'd never actually talk to them"

"babby..... would die for him"

"honestly i probably kin him"

"i'm sure he's lovely but he looks way too much like my ex i'm sorry-"

"i'd be down for another rotation! i have another twink to show y'all"

"Also :00 blonde friend"

"Let us all infodhmo"

"Hsjagdvbs shhh im on phone"

"Nix woukd you like to joon?

"skitters away"

"I have two braincells and they both drink dumb bitch juice"

"oof wait whats the order again i have 0 memory"

"i want to bond with him over cosplay-"

"Awkwardly watches in band kid"

"One day I'm gonna a broadway star"

"which isnt to say they were bad. they were just fortnite dancing during rehersals"

"I threw it so hard my glasses flew off and slid under the stage right divider"

"anyway heres my boi"

"emo"

"haha emo"

"virgil sanders kinnie"

"he looks like he listens to my chemical panic at the fallout boy"

"Bro I bet he'd kick my ass with his deck"

"bird man my beloved"

"fuck i had so much to say and then i forgot it all"

"Birds!!"

"guiguhuh"

"crabrave"

"She sounds like someone I would end up stealing her personality"

"yess name collector gang"

"alias glass aiden haven absinthe fish brick rice"

"But I have Cypress, Remure, Genesis, Lemres, and Comet"

"And she's named after a mars candy bar bc alien"

"Hey, if plato went by plato, you can be king thief"

"im not dissing my gramma like that shfojd"

"My dad has seven legal names" "bitches be like *looks at fictional character* *steals their name* it's us we're bithces"

"coraline lowkey traumatized me but i adore it regardless"

"mmmmmm magic man :]"

"°0° green man"

"criminal (affectionate)"

"he would shoplift a candy bar from walmart and then brag to all of his friends about the sick stealing he did"

"despite the fact he's canonically been capable of overpowering a minor deity"

"i would commit so many crimes for him"

"Very babey"

"Yes please tell green man he is very pog"

"he also keeps a lot of dumb secrets"

"but I will sorely miss the chaos and energy of this here chat until I wake again" (by request XD)

"i just say words and if they're funny then they're funny"

"* or extremly chaotic either works"

"at this point we are just taking turns rambling"

"oH--"

"bc my brain has a schedule"

"Hopefully they have gyoza there or I will lose my mind"

"hehe yes spooky man"

"my ghost glucose guardian"

"the head of the undead group that lives there, and we end up dating. (yes I date a ghost, no I will not be taking constructive criticism /lh)"

"ghosts r just inherently sexy"

"i mean im becoming a squid thing so"

"Raven quirk raven quirk!!"

"ł â m p"

"łæmp"

"mothman: ooh lamp you look very nice today! do you come here often? mothman: wait shit no"

"I'd date a ghost"

"mine is still accurate, i am still sobbing (/j)"

"p e e p e e"

""@nick wilde is a tumblr sexyman" is the best thing i have ever seen"

"im sorry im cackling like a dying hyena"

"you're all 12 year olds"

"PEENIE"

"He once caused global warming on accident so he could get a tan"

"god, what a himbo. i love him"

"that reminds me of my friends kin assigned me jesus"

"Man outside of battle be like: princely crying but then in battle hes like: "CATACLYSM! DISASTER! DEVASTATION!" Chill out man"

"Every time I talk about satan it never fails to shock people it's my favorite thing to do"

"im kin assigning him roman sanders" ""Oh yeah he caused global warming because he wanted to get girls" "he what""

"oh damn i forgot satan was straight"

"twink appreciation club"

"give us the twinks"

"my first thought was bottom-"

"so many people to try and get his dad to love him"

"daddy issued"

"OH MY GOD ITS WILBUR"

"Big boy but"

"anyways janus is swagggg"

"........................."

"gib twink"

"give twink then i will share"

"holds him gentle like hamburger"

"This dumb bitch opened a book that said "do not open" and got possessed by a little bastard"

"he is. fragile creachur"

"klug is beauty klug is grace i would let him step on my face"

"If I'm playing swap and I have to hear one more "Pwanet Powew" Im gonna lose it"

"Who is to blame? Pandora or the box?"

"Bakugo isnt my type but I respect the drip"

"i say like my type isnt long-haired pretty boys and girls that look so gnc that people have a history of confusing them for men"

"hes a gremlin and i can appreciate a pretty gremlin"

"that is to say i am attracted to VFlower vocaloid. This is a confession."

"note i am a lesbian"

"You may like Schezo wegey"

"why does he have one single expression"

"soul soul eater passes the vibe check"

"magic wand"

"I Want To Hold His Hand"

"i would commit a war crime for him any war crime idc which one"

"my favorite one is when he sounded rlly gay because he said "Muscular bodies keep me satisfied""

"p e a n u t"

"Klug is a homophobic homosexual its just facts"

"grug from the croods is peak male performance"

"jaw drops to floor, eyes pop out of sockets accompanied by trumpets, heart beats out of chest, awooga awooga sound effect, pulls chain on train whistle that has appeared next to head as steam blows out, slams fists on table, rattling any plates, bowls or silverware, whistles loudly, fireworks shoot from top of head, pants loudly as tongue hangs out of mouth, wipes comically large bead of sweat from forehead, clears throat, straightens tie, combs hair Ahem, you look very lovely."

"tag yourself im the fireworks shooting from the top of the head"

"i like essays"

"central time gang"

"11:11 pog-" (wait... is that a suprise angel number?? yes it is lovelies just for you <3)

"Then again im also a dumbass bitch who wonders what the souls in soul eater taste like. SERIOUSLY THOUGH. THEY LOOK TASTY AS HELL!!!! LIKE GODDAMN BRO YOU'RE MAKING ME FUCKING HUNGRY. Like. that shit- it's Bone Apple motherfucking Teeth. hell yea my guy. Im hongy now.... shlorp I'm seriously considering this. Like. They seem kinda like a liquid? But a solid? Are they like jello? The fuck they taste like my guy???? I keep imagining they're like sour, like sour candy maybe? Or do they taste salty? Sweet? Maybe some combo of two? Do they even have a taste or is it about the texture? The sensation? God my mouth is watering what the hell. I am starving. I think I need to go get a cookie. I'm gonna go get a cookie. Brb. I'm better. I'm still craving souls though. Which is a weird-ass cringey thing to say but I'm being dead-ass rn. They just.... look tasty???? And I wanna eat one. Thus. I am shifting to Soul Eater for the express purpose of satisfying my fucking cravings. enjoy"

"points were made"

"jello? more like helloooo schloooAHFJDSDAIDWNALDHSJKDAIDANDM"

"WAIT I THINK I HAVE AN ANIME GIRL BITING VIDEO TOO"

"anime girl voice: mmm! mm... ahhhhmp!! mmm, mmm... aaahmp!"

"i think it sounds great i'm going to start eating like that"

"several people are typing"

"do these look edible to you"

"forbidden gummies"

"when I was on lsd I couldn't eat my fruit gummies because I thought they were alive because they had little faces on them"

"oh shit yeah don't do drugs"

"anyways general consensus is puyos are edible, ty for your input everyone"

"everypony is a word so powerful it can bring nations to its knees"

"pls the self control it's taking me not to say "hewwo everypony" in gen chat when someone new joins-"

"hewwo evewrypony uwu deaw cewestia i hopwe it doewsnt wain owo"

"ive cooked up a sowution wiwth the knowwege ive acwued. they say a kitcwen time saves niwne, but im just savwing two. Ive gathewwed the inwedients to make a time sowbet. Thewe's hawdly woom fow seconds when the seconds mewt away."

"I had a ten year old sister... you know what happened to her??? very sad, very tragic... she turned eleven....."

"NIIICE"

"Guts dont say the secks word :( /j"

"watch your fucking language in front of the president"

"im so sorry lumi"

"i think you're like ehhhh 8/10 funny"

"now me???? 10/10. Hilarious"

"sometimes i have to take a step back and remember that this is the same guts i follow on tumblr /lh"

""ok every here's some good shifting advice!!! uwu have a good day" "yeah i did lsd and ate fruit gummies""

"i have one setting and it's whatever this is"

"my bitch ass cat just pushed the door open with his fuzzy face and now my sleeping dad is being lulled into dreams by Cosmo Sheldrake's 'Pliocine'."

"me on discord: nick wilde"

"me on tumblr: shifting water! haha funne! me on here: my hermit crabs are cannibals also i want to eat souls."

"im sorry yOUR VIBESA RE JUST SO DIFFERNT"

"u give off older cousin ive never spoken to but always admire at the family gatherings vibes"

"what the fuck"

"BC I HAVE LIBERTU"

"If you adopt me then yes"

"am I qualified for dad jokes???"

"we're all a lot smarter on tumblr"

"I'm like "awww... sweet... sweet little shiftlings... posting such sweet shiftling content... so pure, so wholesome... does not even know abcs....""

"can't think before you speak if you never think B)"

"I'm not responsible enough to be a mom"

"cat pet"

"show us pictures of the cat or i will do Crime"

"maybe thats me being a coward tho"

"MOTH!!!! MOTH MY BELOVED"

if y'all want I can make this a series bc shiftblr keeps giving me more content

[sometimesiwrite]

Sick of This

 A/N: Modern AU inspired by a random piece of dialogue from TW2 (Roche’s Path) in Vergen when Geralt and Zoltan speak with Yarpen and Burdon (I think). We hear a story about how Geralt took care of Triss while they were travelling together and she had a horrendous illness. I’m working with hybrids of these characters, but primarily drawing on game dynamics with a bit of book influence for Yennefer and some Netflix influence for Triss. 

Summary: Geralt and Yennefer are in town for a an important political dinner when Geralt learns that their friend, Triss is down for the count with a terrible stomach flu. With some time to spare, he visits her, intending to stay a short while, but her condition worsens to the point where Geralt feels he can’t leave. Internal and inter-personal conflict arises as Geralt vies to skip dinner in favour of caring for a friend in need. tl;dr: Going through a relationship rough-patch (again) and realizing you might have feelings for a close friend makes for a difficult night.

Characters/pairings: Geralt x Triss; Geralt x Yennefer; Yennefer x Istrid; Jaskier

Warnings: Infidelity, verbal abuse/toxic partnership, detailed descriptions of vomiting/severe nausea/stomach pain.

MASTERLIST

Triss looked down at the illuminated screen of her phone: “In town for a few days,” the text read. “Long story. Yen has a work thing. Anyway, let me know if you want to grab a drink.” The number didn’t belong to a name in her contacts—but then again, Geralt’s number never did. Every few months, he’d get a new pay-as-you-go so that old clients wouldn’t try to contract him under the table. It only took two calls from the same tight-assed, penny-pinching hypocrites who’d tried to low-ball him on his first case to make him realize an ever-changing phone number was a good idea. So: burner phones. As a nice added bonus, it made it harder for the Redanian Secret Service to keep tabs on him which meant a little more… investigative freedom when push came to shove. The few people he ever contacted regularly—Triss, Yennefer, Eskel, Lambert, Jaskier (Vesemir didn’t text)—never bothered putting his number in their contacts. By the time they got around to updating his number, he was changing it within a few weeks anyway. Besides, he insisted it was safer for all of them if they didn’t have his name in their phones in the first place. By now, everyone knew that if they got a text from an unknown number, there was a 99.9% chance it was Geralt. 

The toilet gurgled as Triss returned to the sofa with a groan, scrunching her knees up against the pain in her stomach. She checked her phone again: “Only if you’re free, I know Foltest keeps you pretty busy…” She rolled her eyes and replied, “Thanks, Ger. Ordinarily, I could use one right about now, but I’m feeling pretty sick. Think I should stay home </3” She smiled weakly as the text fwiipped its way up the screen. Too bad she was laid up. Would’ve been nice to see him. Her friends always said he was too grumpy and moody to be any fun, but Triss always thought of him as being quite mellow and calming to be around. He never imposed expectations on their time together, unlike her other friends who were always scheming, gossiping, or bitching about their bosses. Just easy conversation and a few good laughs as they caught up on the past few months or years or however long it had been since they last saw each other. 

She checked her phone again and fired off a few brief “not today, babes, sorry, I’m just so sick” texts before her mouth started watering again and she headed into the bathroom: a routine by this point. A few girlfriends had offered to keep her company with rom coms and ginger tea, but she was already feeling so exhausted and it was only 1pm. Besides, Triss wasn’t sure she was prepared for anyone other than her cat (who was hiding under the bed) to see her like this: tawny cheeks flushed with fever, tight brown curls haphazardly bunned on top of her head in a pragmatic attempt to keep them out of the toilet and away from her face, frizzy ringlets falling loose down the back of her neck… and she was acutely aware that she smelled of sickness. Her body’s best attempt to rebalance itself meant that her underarms would overpower even her best deodorant. IF, that is, she cared enough to put any on which she Did Not. She was also, like any sensible woman in her current state, not wearing a bra. 

Nope. Today was a day of horrendousness. Her phone pinged. “You need anything?” 

“A new body might be nice. If you happen to see one that would suit me… 😝” 

The fwoop! came in before her screen went dark: “LOL, I’ll see what I can find. Any preferences?” 

Triss smiled despite the pain in her stomach. “Hmmm I did always want to be a physiotherapist. Oooh! Or a gymnast!” Fwiip!

Fwoop! “Still at your same place? I can send it by courrier. Should get there before 3:00”

Triss was trying hard to come up with a witty enough comeback, but her head was starting to ache. Hmmm. Yes, body, I would love to hydrate you, but you keep rejecting everything I put inside you. “Ugh,” she groaned again and made her way to the toilet. When she got back a few fruitless minutes later, she checked her phone again. Nothing. She just replied, “Thanks, Ger. BRB, going to go die now. When the courier gets here, just tell him to transfer my soul into the new body. I’ll leave it under the Welcome mat.” The TV flipped on as its owner began the endless Netflix Scroll of Indecision. She finally settled on Blue Planet for the 50th time hoping that slow-moving sea blobs would be soothing in some way. 

It didn’t. Another excruciating hour of bathroom visits every ten-to-fifteen-minutes had her googling ‘pressure points to relieve nausea’ by 2:30. She had just pinched a spot on her wrist between her thumb and forefinger when she heard a soft knock on her door. “Ugh, no, GO AWAY! LEAVE ME TO DIE IN PEACE!” she called out from her nest on the sofa. It was too late. The she heard the door brush against the spongy beige carpet as someone poked their head inside, “Triss?” It was Geralt.  

“Oh gods, no, Geralt, stay back, save yourself!”

He gave a low chuckle and Triss already felt a little better. How does he always manage to do that?  “I don’t have a new body for you, but I might have the next best thing. Permission to enter?” 

Triss let out a rueful groan, “Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She heard him step in quietly and toe off his shoes as the door closed. A second later, he came around the corner with a Rexall bag in hand. He’d been to a barber recently, and his silvery hair was looking more stylish than usual—cut shorter on the sides and stylishly swept back from his face. Paired with his dark-teal flannel shirt and grey denim jeans, Triss thought he looked unusually striking. 

Geralt tilted his head sympathetically at the sight before him. Triss was bundled on the sofa in an oversized sleep shirt and sweatpants, fuzzy socks bunched around her ankles, and what looked like any and all home remedies gathered around her: hot water bottle, cold pack, three mugs of tea (ginger, peppermint, and chamomile by the smell of them), a glass of ice water, a barely-touched bowl of chicken broth, a mangled bag of oyster crackers, and a thermometer. 

“You’re really down for the count, huh? Got a fever?” before she could object, the back of Geralt’s hand was on her forehead. It felt cool and refreshing against the dry heat of her face as he assessed her condition. “Meh. Could be better, could be worse.”

“I could’ve told you that,” Triss retorted with a halfhearted smile. “Ugh… sorry, um, I have to…” she pointed towards the bathroom and Geralt raised his hands (‘say no more’) as his friend scuttled exhaustedly around the corner. He busied himself with watching manta rays gliding through the open ocean until he heard the toilet flush and Triss emerged again, looking ragged and a little sheepish. “Sorry,” she said, pouring herself back onto her nest of blankets and stuffed animals. 

Geralt shrugged, “No need to be, you’re sick. Here,” he reached into the pharmacy bag and brought out a box of ginger Gravol tablets and a medium-sized bottle of Cherry Punch Pedialyte—she was allergic to most over-the-counter cold and flu medication.

“Geralt, you didn’t have to do all this for me. How did you even know I had the stomach flu?”

He looked over her shoulder at her laptop which was still open to the page of various nausea-relieving pressure points, “Hm. You should have this stuff around anyway,” he paused as Triss swallowed heavily and went to the bathroom again. It wasn’t that she didn’t know how to take care of herself, her mother had been a nurse practitioner for heaven’s sake. Still, Geralt was never one to leave a friend in need if there was something he could do about it. A particularly visceral sound drew him from where he was perched on the arm of the sofa. Triss was crouched on the bathroom floor, shivering with her forehead resting on her elbows over the toilet bowl. She spat. Geralt sat on the edge of the bathtub. “How long has it been like this?”

“Since about... 10am,” she managed to get out before her entire body heaved. Geralt instinctively reached out to place a hand on her back. She didn’t object. She never objected to these little shows of affection from Geralt. There was always something reassuring about them, and it felt particularly nice to be reminded that she wasn’t alone just now.

Geralt rubbed slow circles across her back as he coaxed her through retching and dry heaves. “You know you could've just asked.”

“I know but—”

“Stubborn?”

“Uh-huh,” Triss admitted, sitting back on her heels and flushing the mostly-empty toilet. “Besides, the last thing you need is to be taking care of a gross friend right before getting ready for a fancy business gala.

“You clearly don’t know just how little I’m looking forward to this evening,” Geralt grumbled, passing Triss a cool glass of water to rinse with. 

“Not looking forward to talking the talk, Mr. Slick P.I.?” Triss’s eyes gave a twinkle as her freckled cheeks pulled into a cheeky smirk.

Even when she’s a mess she still finds a way to light up. Geralt furrowed his brow at his own thoughts. Where did that come from? “You know how it is, all this high-society stuff, rubbing elbows, laughing at tasteless jokes. It’s just not me. But Yen—well…” he sighed heavily, “I dunno. She’s right in that it’s a good way to get the information we need, stay visible to the right people but… I shouldn’t be talking to you about this. I know she’s your friend.”

Triss raised an eyebrow, “Oh, go on. Trust me, there’s nothing you can say about Yennefer of Vengerberg that will surprise me. Besides, you’re my friend, too.” 

“Hm.” Geralt stared down and fiddled with his crossed thumbs. “Lately I can’t get anything right. I’m always asking the wrong questions, or I’ll try and talk to her about something I want us to work on and it’s never worded the right way and then it just turns into a fight which is what I want to stop doing in the first place. And then I’m either too sensitive or not sensitive enough and… it’s like she has a set of rules inside her head she won’t tell me about. Feels like it’s harder than it should be. But who am I to know?”

“I’m sorry, Geralt. Yennefer can be so unfair sometimes. I don’t think she understands how much she can push against the people she cares about. It’s one thing to be a friend, at least I can take a breather every now and then if I need to. But it’s different for you. You don’t like taking time apart.” Triss offered an apologetic smile before groaning and leaning back over the toilet and Geralt’s hand took up its place on her back again as he worked her through another round. 

Geralt’s phone rang as Triss flushed the toilet. “Sorry, it’s Yen. I should take this. Be right back. Yen? Yeah, I’m with Triss, got a stomach thing, I stopped by to bring her some...” his voice disappeared around the corner as he went into the bedroom. Triss couldn’t make out their whole conversation, but it sounded tense. The phrase, “...just trust me to dress myself, I’m not a—,” came through the drywall. Triss sighed sympathetically. It certainly hadn’t been smooth sailing for the two of them. Geralt had his own flaws and foibles in the romance department—he could be callous and insensitive in favour of honesty at times, and never shied away from pushing buttons—but Yennefer was mercurial, brazen, rash, and brutal; all excellent qualities for a powerful and influential chief advisor. But as much as Geralt was his own handful, she’d never known him to willfully hurt someone he cared about, and was quick to apologize when he did. 

When Geralt came back, Triss was trying to push herself to standing. He caught her as she swayed on her unsteady legs. “Whoa, whoa, Triss, easy. Here, sit back down, wait here for a second.” Triss did as she was told and settled miserably back onto the bathroom floor. Geralt immediately returned with two blankets before disappearing again. A few minutes later, he returned once more with a tea tray on which was balanced Triss’s laptop, a small glass of Pedialyte on the rocks, the pack of gravol, and the box of oyster crackers. 

Triss let out a soft giggle, “What is this?”

“You need to try and get something in you. Might not be pretty at first, but if you don’t get some fluids soon, you’re going to be in bigger trouble.”

“Really. I had no idea. I can take care of myself, you know… sorry that was,” Triss sighed. “It’s been a long day

Geralt hunkered down next to her on the floor on top of a throw pillow, “Hey, I get it. But that’s not why I’m here. Just because you can doesn’t mean you have to. So take this, with a sip of this,” he handed her a blister pack of the Gravol and the glass of Pedialyte, “and let’s see if you can keep it down.” 

“Cherry Punch. How did you know this was my favourite?” Triss could no longer hide the fondness that was welling up despite her unrelenting discomfort and growing exhaustion. Geralt gave a muted smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “How’s Yennefer?”

The lines on Geralt’s face became more pronounced, “She’s… fine.” Triss tilted her head (‘really?’) and Geralt relented, “There’s a chance Istrid will be there tonight.”

“The head of the Archeological Association? I don’t get it, what’s he got to do with you and Yennefer?”

Triss could guess the answer from Geralt’s pause. His words merely confirmed it, “They have history.” 

“You don’t think that Yennefer will—I mean, she wouldn’t—”

“She has. She doesn’t know that I know, but…” Triss’s heart sank. “I don’t know why I’m waiting for her to tell me. Guess I don’t want her to feel like I went out of my way to find her at fault—which I didn’t, by the way. I found out by accident.” 

“I’m sorry, Ger.” The weight of Triss’s head against his shoulder brought Geralt out of his daze and he looked down at the messy updo of mahogany hair. He smiled again, a delicate, private, unconscious thing that sparked from an unconscious uplifting somewhere in the middle of him and pulled the corners of his eyes. He thought about ignoring it, not wanting to have to go digging inside himself for what it meant. Instead he wrapped an arm around Triss’s shoulder and pecked a chaste kiss to the top of her head. 

“How’re you feeling?”

The answer to that question proved complicated. Triss’s spirits were a bit better thanks to Geralt’s stubborn-yet-easygoing caretaking. But the introduction of contents into her contrary stomach was yielding less-than-desirable consequences. Painful cramps persisted between more frequent bouts of vomiting—which by this point was mostly dry-heaves followed by the occasional expulsion of bile. Meanwhile it was 5:30 and Geralt’s phone beeped a notification. He checkecked the screen with one hand while he soothed Triss with the other: Where are you??? Yen. Who else could it be? He’d have to call her.

“Geralt, go! Really, I’ll be fine I promise. You’ve got to rub elbows and laugh at bad jokes, remember?” Triss propped herself up on wobbly elbows over the toilet bowl, not trusting the wave to be over. 

Geralt was already dialling. Triss heard the faint echo of her friend’s voice on the other line as she answered with, ‘Where the HELL are you?’ 

“I’m still with Triss, Yen. Things aren’t looking good here, she’s just gotten worse. If I can’t—Yen, listen if she doesn’t—if she doesn’t get any fluids in her I’ll need to take her to the hospital.” Geralt pulled an apologetic face and Triss gave him a reassuring wave that she’d be fine if he stepped out for a minute. “Yen, please, I thought we talked about this, please don’t use that tone, it makes me feel…” The conversation continued, though this time in the living room: “I know this is an important night for us to both be there, Yen, you’ve been reminding me for the last month, but I can’t just leave until… what’s that supposed to mean? That’s not—no, hang on, that’s not fair, Yen… Well if you already don’t believe me I don’t—Okay, then you tell me what I’m supposed to say! I’m tired of this, Yennefer, I am so. Exhausted trying to figure out exactly what to say in order for you to not react like this every time I… can I finish?...”

Geralt was pacing back-and-forth now, and Triss could tell from the tone on the other end of the line that Yennefer wasn’t backing down anytime soon, “Geralt, if you don’t leave Triss’s apartment and come back here and get dressed this instant, I swear I will—”

Geralt paused outside the bathroom door for Triss to flash a wilted thumbs-up as she tried to drink more Cherry Punch Pedialyte, “Or you’ll what, Yen? Count to ten and then chuck me in the coi pond? I—you know what?” he moved back into the living room, “No, you know what? How ‘bout this: I’m staying here with our friend who needs help, and you can go to this big event, embarrassment free, and do what you do best without the big idiot holding you back. Whatever needs to get done at this dinner tonight, I bet you’ll do better on your own than worrying about me screwing something up.” 

Triss heard his phone flip shut followed by a heavy sigh before his sock feet padded back into the bathroom. Unfortunately, just then, her suspicions about not being finished proved correct as her mouth, once again, began to water. Thankfully Cherry punch wasn’t nearly as bad coming back up as other flavors were known to be. In less than a second, Geralt was there with a warm hand and a blanket around her shoulders. They didn’t talk much over the next little while as Geralt continued his attempts to soothe Triss’s stomach enough to hold something down. After an hour, Triss finally was able to rest a little, albeit still in quite a bit of pain. But with the toilet no longer an ongoing necessity, the sofa once again became a viable option. Geralt scooped up the blanketed bundle and carried her back into the living room to continue their journey under the sea, complete with cold compress and bendy straw.

By 7:30 Triss hadn’t needed the toilet at all in the last hour, and some of her stomach pain was starting to diminish. However, she was still shivering and achy, and not interested in food. She kept insisting that Geralt had time to meet Yennefer at the gala, that she would be perfectly fine on her own, but Geralt wasn’t convinced. Showing up now would not only put Yennefer in the awkward position of having to save face by not murdering him in cold blood in front of a dozen or more foreign dignitaries, but it would also mean having to face Istrid who, if he wasn’t already, would doubtlessly be very interested to hear Yennefer’s thoughts on a great number of things before the night was over. Geralt didn’t trust himself not to do something he’d regret—or at least that Yennefer would regret.

Another hour in and Triss was starting to perk up: minimal stomach pain, and she was making a decent dent in her Cherry Punch. Geralt decided it was time for a little chicken soup. He made a freezer pizza for himself and cracked a beer while he warmed up a can of Campbell’s Chicken Noodle, ladelling out all the broth into a mug for Triss so she wouldn’t be tempted to eat more than she could handle. Geralt had only one goal for her tonight: keep everything down. If she could do that, then he had at least been able to do something for her. If not… Geralt tried very hard not to listen to the voice that said, ‘then you’re no use for anyone’ in the back of his mind. Thankfully, Triss finished her broth without concern and he didn’t have to worry about that voice for the time being. Instead, he settled a little deeper into the sofa cushions as Triss resumed a comfortable spot against his shoulder. 

After another little while, a miracle happened: Triss started to have fun. That characteristic sparkle came back to her eyes, and the two friends quickly began to actively enjoy their evening. They watched The Fellowship of the Ring and took a drink of beer or Pedialyte every time Frodo had a dramatic closeup, was stabbed, or rolled his eyes for dramatic effect. Geralt microwaved a bag of popcorn, and Triss cautiously had a few oyster crackers as they laughed and caught up. Finally. It may not have been the original vision for what drinks and casual hangs would look like, but it was good. It was nice. Relaxed, and pleasant. Easy. Geralt’s mind wandered as the Fellowship fled the Balrog, and he didn’t notice the little line his thumb was leaving on Triss’s blanket as it traced up and down her shoulder. He also didn’t think twice when she shifted, half-asleep, to lie her head in his lap and his hand moved to the curve of her waist. It wasn’t until he looked down in the direction of soft snoring that he was reminded exactly who was lying in his lap. 

His initial thought was, ‘shit,’ as he slowly removed his hand from her waist, not wanting to wake her, but also not knowing what to do. It was suddenly all so intimate, though he didn’t quite know why. As he watched her, peacefully asleep in his lap, he realized he didn’t want to break away. Didn’t want to wake her to adjust to a more ‘appropriate’ orientation. He touched her shoulder again. That was nice. That felt… nice. She stirred, and Geralt wondered if she was comfortable as he brushed a tight ringlet behind her ear. She smiled in semi-consciousness and his heart sang. This was bad. This was very very bad. He reached for the remote and flicked the tv off. It was after midnight, and high time everyone went to bed. Alone. 

That was the only option. Right? In theory, no. There was another option, and a significant part of Geralt wanted to go with that one, stay in this soft warm place where everything felt easier… where he felt happy. But a louder part of him knew that wasn’t right, wasn’t fair; that even if he was unhappy—even if Yennefer had spent the night with Istrid (Geralt tried not to think about that). The bottom line was Triss felt well enough that he no longer needed to stay with her to make sure she was alright. That was why he’d come. If he stayed for other reasons, it wouldn’t be fair to anyone. End of discussion.

“Triss,” Geralt murmured, rousing her as gently as he could. 

“Hmm?” Her eyes fluttered open to see Geralt staring down at her. She didn’t remember lying down in his lap, but she must have just before she fell asleep. “Did I fall asleep on you?” 

Geralt’s eyes crinkled, “Hm. Yeah. You were pretty out of it.”

“Ah, shit, I’m so sorry!”

“You needed the rest. Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s passed out on me, and you’re significantly easier to deal with than Lambert.”

Triss bunched her blankets around her shoulders and shivered sleepily, “You should go. Yennefer’s probably waiting for you.”

“Hm. Yeah, probably,” Geralt heaved himself off the sofa as Triss released her hair and gathered her nest to head to the bedroom. Geralt waited until she was bundled in bed. “All set?”

A little smile peeked over the tops of the covers, “Mmmhmm, thanks.”

“Need anything else?”

“No, I’m good. Goodnight, Ger.”

“Goodnight, Triss,” Geralt flicked off the light. In the entranceway, he paused with his hand on the doorknob, took a deep breath, and left, locking the door behind him and putting the key back in its usual hiding place. Enough now. Done. He was determined that whatever he had felt, whatever warm, unexpected thing had bubbled to the surface, would forever exist behind that locked door, frozen in time. A blip. The important thing was nothing was acted on. Not really. At worst, they wandered into a grey area by accident. These things happen. The key now was not to dwell on it, to move forward. 

Geralt’s stomach soured as he slid his keycard into the slot of room 622. The lock clicked open as the little light on top flashed green and Geralt turned the handle, closing the door behind him as quietly as he could. He toggled the dimmer switch next to the door; the lowest setting would give him enough light to get changed without waking up—Yen? The bed was empty, still freshly turned-down, with his pre-approved evening attire laid out as he had suspected. He fucking hated that tie. He put the suit back in the garment bag from whence it came and checked his phone. Nothing. No texts, no missed calls. Might still be out. It wasn’t unusual for these events to turn into afterparties which was where most of the juicy information was gathered. He hit speed-dial. 

“Hi, Jaskier? It’s—yeah, hi. Listen. Are things still going over there? I just—hm? Yeah, she’s doing okay now. Took awhile for me to get anything in her, but no hospital visit so… yeah, she finally got to sleep just as I was heading out, made sure she was hydrated and had a little something… I’m sure she’d appreciate that… Actually, that’s why I’m calling, I just got back and she’s not in, I was wondering if you knew where she…When?…Okay…No, archeology… Mmm no, they’re very different fields. Nevermind, thanks, Jas…Yeah, no it’s, um, I just wanted to make sure that she was okay. Didn’t want to bug her in case she was in the middle of—something. Yeah… Well don’t let me interrupt that. Okay, all the best. Go get ‘em tiger. ‘Night.” 

Geralt tossed his phone on the bed and flopped heavily on top of the duvet and rubbed a hand over his face.

“Goddamnit, Yen.”

__________________

@the-space-between-heartbeats 

@just-a-sad-donut 

@oxenfurt-archives 

@thirstyforred 

@titaniafire 

@belalugosisdead 

@lonelygayz 

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[astheskycries]

Protected- Chapter Six

When Maggie agreed to help her best friend finish preparing for an art exhibit, she wasn’t expecting to end up in the middle of a rough battle between Captain America and a shooter. She also didn’t expect to be considered a target because he saved her life and to be hunted by HYDRA agents for her involvement. Now her life is in the hands of a perfect soldier… and so is her heart. One Two Three Four Five

Bang bang bang!

I groan a little, burying farther under the covers and squeezing my eyes shut tighter.

Bang bang bang!

“I know you’re in there,” Natasha calls, and I jerk upright and stare at the door nervously. “I need to talk to you.”

I swallow carefully. “Coming,” I call shakily, shoving to my feet and moving towards the door before I lose my nerve. I tug the door open cautiously, and Natasha brushes past me, dropping onto the stool. I nervously close my door, aware of my unmade bed and that I haven’t brushed my hair. “Can I help you?” I ask worriedly.

Her face doesn’t change. “Sit down,” She says calmly, nodding towards the bed.

I carefully lower myself on my bed.

“You and Rogers,” She says bluntly, getting right to the point.

I blink, confused. “What about us?” I ask carefully. If my tone is even slightly off, she could lose her patience and decide not to play nice.

Her eyes change slightly. “Relax. I’m not going to attack you,” She makes a lazy sweep of the room, taking in the plain cell. “Fury should have moved you to a better room.”

I choose not to comment, though I personally agree. “What about us?” I repeat, a little more forcefully.

She meets my eyes. “You two seem awfully close for people who don’t know each other.”

I release a slightly frustrated breath. “I wish people would stop saying that. I don’t know him; he’s the one trying to approach me.”

She raises an eyebrow, thinking about it. “You get nervous around him,”

I wince. “There are motives behind every interaction with me. It’s hard to relax around him knowing that.”

Now she frowns. “There are no orders regarding you at all. We’re just making sure HYDRA is no longer pursuing you.”

I purse my lips. “He wants information from me.”

Natasha rises calmly, and I know she doesn’t want to argue about it. “I’m sorry I woke you. I’m going to talk to Fury about sending you to a different room. Of course, the only one open is on Roger’s temporary floor-”

“I’m fine here,” I say quickly.

She smirks a little. “We don’t know how long you’re going to be here, Maggie. You might as well be comfortable.” I open my mouth to protest, but she’s already gone. I sigh wearily and turn to the bed, starting to make it and letting myself think about what she’s said.

“Are you busy?”

I gasp, jerking around and throwing the pillow that was in my hand at the intruder.

Steve catches it easily, staring at me with slightly wide eyes. “Are you alright?”

I breathe carefully, clearing my throat awkwardly. “Sorry,” I choke out, clearing my throat again. “I didn’t mean to throw something at you.”

He glances at the pillow still in his hands. “I’m not sure I believe that.”

I blush a little, turning back to the bed. “Can I help you?” I ask calmly.

I hear footsteps, and then I turn to see Steve an inch away, studying me carefully. “Are you sure you’re alright?” He asks quietly.

I nod, quickly taking the pillow and finishing. “I’m sorry, I just woke up a few minutes ago and haven’t had time to clean up.”

“It’s fine,” He eyes my hair with a faint smile. “It looks cute on you.”

I ignore my burning cheeks and send him a glare. “I’m not interested in being used as a test subject for whatever tricks Mr. Stark has shown you.”

He meets my eyes calmly. “I was wondering if you could meet me on my floor- after you get dressed.”

I nod once. “Of course. Should I eat first?”

He shakes his head. “Just get ready and meet me on my floor. F.R.I.D.A.Y. should be able to help you.”

“Friday?” I ask, confused.

Realization lights his eyes. “You haven’t had a chance to meet her yet, have you?” He shakes his head a little. “I’m sorry. F.R.I.D.A.Y. is Tony’s artificial intelligence system. She runs the building.”

“Good evening,” A female voice says through the ceiling, making me jump. “I apologize for not introducing myself earlier.”

I swallow carefully. “Nice to meet you.” I look at Steve, and he must sense the panic in my eyes.

“Fury likes to keep her quiet around guests,” He explains gently. “Since we don’t know how long you will be here, I don’t want you to be surprised if you hear her.”

There’s the motive for F.R.I.D.A.Y. “I understand.” I glance at the now made bed. “I can be ready in five minutes.”

Steve nods, moving towards the door, and I put my face in my hands before forcing myself to move towards the closet.

“Maggie?”

I glance at him, surprised to see him smiling.

“I was being honest. It looks cute on you.” I open my mouth, intending to tell him off, but he’s already gone, leaving me to get ready with burning cheeks.

…

“How do you keep doing that?” I ask, accepting the spatula I had been about to ask for.

Steve offers a slight smirk. “I guess I’m just that smart.”

I roll my eyes and focus on the food. “I need the-” I cut myself off, glaring at the bag of chocolate chips. “Quit it.”

He chuckles, watching me angrily add them to the bowl. “Do you always cook when you’re mad?”

“No,” I clip. “This would be the first.”

He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear, making me freeze. “Is that so?”

I force the blush down and focus on cooking. “Usually I don’t have super soldiers there to aggravate me.”

He laughs, moving back to grab something, and I breath a sigh of relief at the distance. Somehow it’s hard to focus with him so close, and he seems to like seeing it. I don’t know what the motive behind it is, though. “Maybe you should cook around them more often.”

“I doubt it,” I shoot back, pouring pancake mix onto the skillet. I set the bowl down and turn to see him watching me. He looks away, focusing carefully on setting the table, and I take a nervous breath. “Steve?”

He looks up instantly, watching me carefully. “Yes?”

I bite my lip. “Where is the shooter?”

He hesitates. “You can’t tell anyone.” He warns quietly. I nod once, and he takes a breath. “We don’t know. He’s gone.”

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Protected

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[jadewritings]

Love Potion

SUMMARY: You were born to a family were only the women develop powers at age 12. Though she loved you both equally, when your mom had you, she was ecstatic. Scott, your older brother didn’t have powers. But you are a teen witch who just can’t seem to stop the feelings developing for Stiles Stilinski, your brother’s best friend. 

PAIRING: Stiles x Reader, Scott x sister!Reader

WORD COUNT: 1,334

WARNINGS: Fluff, language, Frustration, kissy kissy

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is because I wanted to do an au and there’s probably gonna be a lot more to come but eh

Based on a prompt found on pinterest

9 years old

“Mommy! Mommy! Scott took my dolly!” you were crying when you ran to your mother, who was doing the dishes. She smiled and put the rag she had in her hand on the counter, crouching so she was on your level. 

“Well you tell your brother I said to give it back or he won’t be playing any games tonight, okay?” you nodded and turned around when the front door opened. Deputy Stilinski and his son Stiles walked in, in front of your father.

Scott ran in just in time, your doll in his hand. He tossed it to the floor and ran to your dad, hugging his knees then grabbing his friend’s hand and ran to his room. You stared at Stiles as he ran by and he stared at the puffy eyed girl he’d known since you two were babies before he was out of sight. You were too young to know what love actually was but you felt it in your heart.

11 Years old

You laid on the bed, covers upon covers laying on you. Your mother had just come in to change the towel on your forehead and your father stood at the door and watched. 

Scott and Stiles were downstairs, most likely playing games until Melissa told them it was okay to see you.

“Her fever is still at 108. I’ll get something from the hospital to help calm it but I think it’s the magic.” Melissa stood next to Rafe with a hand on his back.

“What do you mean?” Your father, who knew about the magic and frankly, didn’t really care for it, just wanted you to get better. You got sick two days ago and it hadn’t calmed down at all, in fact, it was getting worse. 

“This is a bit different from what happened to me so I’m not entirely sure but she is almost twelve. Her powers should kick in soon.”

“Yeah, I hope so.”

They both left and that was when the boys walked in. Scott stood at your right and Stiles on the other side. 

“Y/N, please get better.” Scott was worried. He didn’t understand the whole magic thing, he didn’t have to go through it, but if this is what all the others had to go through then he didn’t want to understand it. Sure, he teased and frustrated you a lot but it was all in good fun. He would protect you and love you no matter what. It hurt him to see you like this.

Stiles stood there, thinking. He wasn’t born into the witch life. It was only a select few families who had it but Scott let him in on the family secret. His hands went to the towel and then moved through your hair, pushing it back from your sweat slickened skin. 

12 years old

It was midnight when the house started to shake. Melissa and Rafe scrambled to their feet, running for their children. Rafe got to Scott’s room but Scott already had the door open and rushed out into the hall with Stiles who’d stayed the night. 

“Dad, what’s happening?” he shouted.

“I don’t know! Come on, we have to get to safety!” he grabbed the boys by their arms and met up with Melissa, who just stood in your doorway.

They all looked in and what they saw made them all stand there shell shocked. You were floating in your bed, power crackled from every surface of your body. The room turned a bluish hue and then a blinding light made everyone shield their eyes.

Once they could see again, everything was back to normal. There was no more shaking and you dropped back onto your bed, unconscious. Melissa turned to your father and they both agreed in that moment to never tell you of the kind of power you held inside of you. It was best for everyone.

Present day

“Damnit!” you cursed under your breath.

“Y/N, watch your language!” your mother had apparently caught that.

“Mom! This stupid potion isn’t working!” you slammed a herb down just as your mother walked in. 

“All of the recipes I gave you work, you’re just doing something wrong, dear.” she picked up the herb and gently dropped it into the bowl. Smoke rose from it and she smiled.

“See? Magic takes love and care, honey. If you’re angry at it all the time then you get failures. You just gotta relax. Why don’t you take a break and come help me with lunch?” she rubbed your back, trying to get you to relax.

You sighed, “No, I’m just gonna practice some more. Thanks mom, I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

“Alrighty then.” she kissed your temple and left.

You took a breath and turned to a different page in the book your mom had given you. The title said it was a love potion. That got your attention. You followed the recipe, making sure to add the right amount of ingredients and be more gentle as well.

When the pink smoke rose above the bowl, you jumped up and down giggling. You poured it into a glass and took a look at your handiwork. It looked just like water.

Later that day, Stiles burst through the door without even knocking and ran right to Scotts room, not even sparing you a glance. Your eyes narrowed, knowing exactly who your target would be. Sure, you’d grown up with the kid, developed some feelings for him, and even remembered when he was there when you were sick. Always by your side. But he’d never shown any type of feeling towards you like THAT. 

You walked up the stairs to Scott’s room, knocking and then entering when Scott deemed it okay. “Hey guys, I just thought I’d bring you some water.”

Scott’s eyes narrowed, “Why do you only have one glass then?”

You looked down to see the only glass you had was the potion. Damnit. You smiled, “Oops, I left the other one downstairs. Brb.” 

You ran back to the kitchen, getting another glass, filling it with tap water, ran past your mother who only gave you a weird look, and went back to Scott and Stiles. You handed them each of their respective glasses and watched Stiles carefully.

Scott took sips of his water while Stiles just gulped his. He pulled away from the glass with an ‘aah’ sound and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, “Thanks, Y/N.” He smiled at you and... that was it.

You shook your head, “That’s it?”

Stiles’ brows scrunched together in confusion, “Am I supposed to say something other than thanks?”

You growled in frustration, “I just slipped you a love potion! What the hell, you’re not even acting any different!”

Scott and Stiles’ mouths both dropped and there was a stunned silence. 

“Y-Y/N, you’re not serious are you?” Scott laughed nervously.

“Damnit. Maybe I did something wrong to the recipe. Forget this happened guys. Bye!” you dragged your feet as you stepped out of his room. Maybe you just weren’t cut out to be a witch. What was the point anyway? Get sicker than you’ve ever been in your life and then get powers that don’t ever want to actually work? What in the actual fuck?

You heard something behind you and turned. Stiles groaned and held his knee to his chest. Apparently he’d scrambled after you and he tripped, hitting it on the door frame in the process. You burst out laughing.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up missy but that was your fault.”

“My fault? I think not, Stilinski.” you laughed, grabbing your stomach because it was beginning to hurt the more you laughed. 

Stiles got up and walked over to you, grabbing your face and brought it up to his. The kiss only lasted a second or two but it felt like forever. 

“You want to know why the potion didn’t work? It’s because I’m already in love with you, Y/N/N. Always have been. Always will be.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” The shock of the kiss took everything out of you, you could only whisper. Stiles wiped away the stray tear and smiled.

“Because, you’re too good for me. You’re a special one, Y/N. Plus, I’m scared of Melissa.”

You laughed and leaned up to kiss him again, “I’ll protect you. From everyone and everything.”

“Hey, maybe that potion did work, I mean, I don’t think I would have had the guts until you gave it to me.”

Other peeps:

@mf-despair-queen  @bilesbilinskix

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[number1120]

Recovery

*Here we go*

Crescent froze with the book in his arms. He did know what to do but sit there with his Dad's journal. Lying is bad, Dust taught him that.

"Please don't be mad, Daddy," Crescent whimpered lowly, placing the book down. "I was just-" Crescent stopped and looked to the floor. "I'm sorry. I wanted to see what you see."

Nightmare cocked an eye and tilt his head, confused. "What?" His rage calming down as he started towards his desk, towering over his son, Killer following.

He pushed the book towards his dad. "I want to see what you see every time you sit down. I want to be as strong as you and fast like Papa! I want to lead like you and be as-as confident as you! I wanted to see what you see when you sit down."

Killer sighed tiredly, feeling a bit hurt hearing his son say things like this. "Crescent-"

"I want to be able to throw lives fast like Papa and Uncle Dust! I want to fight like Cross and Horror! I want to be as smart like you and Error! I want... want..." he felt himself running out of steam, breathless. "I want to be like you."

Nightmare felt the negative energy from his son and shivered. Out of all of his sorrow, fear, pain, grief he's feed off, his son's negative energy tasted bitter on his tongue. He did not want to feel it again. "Crescent," he sighed as black arms lift him up from his chair and placed him in his arms. Crescent is so small and clung to him as if his life depended on it. "Crescent, you don't want to be like me. I want you to be more like your papa than me." He could feel disappointment flowing in his son. He hated it. "Your papa is better than me."

It's ture. The first day they met- from Killer trying to hang himself and Nightmare following the sweet taste of pain and suffering- Killer kept his anger and demons at bay. From his bright eye of white and red eye to his tender kisses at night, Nightmare loves him. If he was honest, he saw more of Killer in Crescent. Staying calm when scared, humming to himself, coloring pictures... He was a smaller but happier version of Killer. "Don't worry, sweetie," Killer hummed as he took a step closer to them, pecking Crescent's skull. "When you're old, we'll teach you, okay? Now," he took him from Nightmare's arms and placed him on the floor. "Go and find your uncles. I bet they miss you."

An even bigger window of freedom! Crescent thought to himself as he started for the door, but he turned back on his heels. "Almost forgot!" He cried as he hugged his parents, saying, "I love you." Then started on his journey again, leaving them alone in the office.

Crescent knows exactly where his uncles are. Not the kitchen. Not in the living room and Judgement Hall. No. They were outside in the echo flowers. He hasn't hang out with them ever since he woke up and he wasn't going to miss out on this! He skipt down the hall, into the garden, and saw Error reading a book. Crescent sprung at him, hugging him tightly, and both of them went to the ground. He heard Dust saying something like, "What the hell?" and Horror pulling out his axe. The finished rolling, and giggles exited form the young prince's mouth. Turning on his side, he met with Error's gaze, smiling, saying in between giggles, "Did I scare you?"

Error wrapped his arms around his small friend and held him close as Horror and Dust stood around him, Cross coming over the hill. Error wasn't there when he woke up. He was ordered to spy on the person who dared to hurt the boss's child: Ink. He hadn't felt his hugs or heard his laughter in forever. He didn't want to let him go. To Error, he was so small, so... pure for this world his father trapped him in. "YeS, you-YoU dID sc-ScArE me."

Dust rolled his eyes playfully and picked up the kid. "Heya, Crescent! How'd ya get away from papa dearest?" He heard him giggle again, but Crescent stopped when he felt a shadow over Dust.

Dust looked over and Cross was staring at the kid. Crescent looked as his old self, and Cross felt better. His parents weren't the only ones who failed him. He is his guard, sworn to protect him, and he failed to do that. And on top of that, his-

"Are you alright, Cross? I-I saw you get hit with the hammer and you were bleeding." Crescent's eyes soften as he shown his concern for him.

Cross slowly nodded at his friend and placed his hand on a shoulder. "I'm okay, kid. We're all okay. You gave us a jump, but we're okay. Just..." Crescent blinked once or twice, keeping his bright eyes at him, smiling. "Just don't pull that again, 'kay?" Suddenly, his phone began to ring. "Brb, kids." He went a few feet and answered.

Horror chuckled playfully as he pointed his axe at Cross, leaning his head at Crescent. Horror never talks to him. Never is around, but he only comes when a big fight is happening. Crescent remembers this one time when there was a big fight, and Horror chopped so many heads enough to make a million head-dogs! Crescent loves eating head-dogs. Horror is the greatest cook he's ever met... if only he stays around and is there for more than a day. "That's Cross's lover," he sung lightly, laughing in his high voice.

"Lover?" Crescent asked confused as he looked up at Dust for answers. "What's that?"

Dust looked around the garden then back at the child in his arms, staring into his eyes. Dust could look forever in his sea green eyes, lovely and bright. Sometimes, he hears his brother's voice praising the small child's eyes. Sometimes, Dust sees his younger brother in Crescent, full of wonder and joy. In a dark place light, how did the sun manage to shine his eyes? "He leaves every morning around 7:25ish; I'm on guard. If you want to known what a 'lover' is," Dust leaned into his ear and whispered, "follow him."

~~~~~~{º ₩º}~~~~~~

Papa read him a book about a fluffy bunny, and Horror was sitting in the room with him. Both are suckers for the fluffy bunny story. Once the lights were off and the green moon shaped nightlight on, Crescent laid in bed and started to sleep.

He was in a room he never saw before, bright and gold. Bright, green, living leaves and trees and flowers and life living happily. Everywhere and and everything felt happy and good, and he like that feeling. A snow white butterfly landed on his head, and Crescent giggled in his dream and sleep. He felt his little soul glowing brightly, showing bright strains of light blue and purple flowing. Crescent followed the butterfly to an alter-like place. In the center, a light brown bowl sat on a stand under the golden sun.

The butterfly sat on the ledge of the bowl. Crescent stood on his toes and looked at his reflection. He saw himself smiling back. He saw his small moon on his forehead and the streaks from his eyes. He saw the darker freckles on his cheek bones. He saw himself, and it was good. He was and is his own self, and nothing will change it.

His eyes opened to the sunlight and he slipped out of bed, out on his shoes, and stealthy went out the window. He climbed down from the tree and horried towards Dust's post. Dust stood with a green apple in his hand and a small bag at his feet. He looked down at the kid and pressed his finger to his teeth, telling him to be silent. His arm hurried him over and pointsd at a hidden path Crescent never seen before.

"Go until you see a waterfall, my young prince," Dust whispered as Crescent watched Cross enter the forest. "Go and be safe. I made you a travel bag. If you get lost or something, shoot up a bone and I'll be there in a blink." Dust patted his shoulder and pushed him towards the path.

Crescent thanked him for the bag and the directions and he started off on his journey. The trees were bright and green like his dream, and butterflies were everywhere. He never sees the day or the sun, but, when he does, he normally sits and looks until Papa or Daddy tells him to sleep. Crescent found a good sized stick and walked. In pictures, he saw explorers walking with sticks. He's an explorer, therefore, he needs a stick. He followed the path and kept away from Cross as much as possible. He wanted this to be his first spy mission and he wants to see if he was quiet like Daddy. The birds sung and flew over him and, on the side, his saw golden flowers. Buttercups. Those are the name.

The noise around him soften and he began to hear water fall. Crescent knew he was close. Cross slipped out to the fall and stood, waiting. Crescent hid himself by a thick oak tree and waited for something to happen. Who waas he waiting for was his million gold question, and he didn't know what to do. Crescent glanced up and began to climb the tree. When his was high enough to see the waterfall and Cross, he took out the sandwich Dust made for him. He knew steak outs were long, but not this long! The woods around suddenly soften to a bear hush, and Crescent watch Cross's face light up.

Knees bending to the floor, a light kid with bright purple, fiery hair ran into his arms. Crescent smiled at Cross's joy to see the small kid. She must be about his age and height. She wore a bright purple dress with black as the trim. Her shoes were slides and purple flowers sat at the end. In his hair, a silver circle was placed on her hair with the sun in the middle. If he didn't know any better, Crescent thought she was a princess.

The girl stood back and talked to him, looking excited to see him, and then ran back to the path she came from. Crescent watched confused in his tree stand, waiting for her to come back. Inside him, he felt a strong power coming their way, and it was strong enough to make him happy. He sat at the edge of the this tree branch and watch her come back, dragging a stranger with her.

He wore bright green pants and matching vest, a golden shirt underneath. His boots were strapped up to his knee caps in white strong and gold. From his shoulders, a golden cape went to his waste and moved every time he walked, which was connected to a pink circle with a white star in the middle. Around his head, a golden circle with a star in the middle sat quietly. Crescent gasped as he felt his hand gripping his walking stick.

Error taught him stranger danger.

****************************

Crescent belongs to: @lunnar-chan

Next to bat: @bluerose161

[pillowfluffs]

Best Friend!Baekhyun

Part 2 of 2

genre: fluff

pairing: Baekhyun x Reader (female)

Part 1

You could easily tell something was clouding his mind and making him hesitate on his words. “Because I like you!”

You were speechless. Did.. Did the guy you’ve been loving since childhood just confess?

“..What?” You were barely audible.

“Y/N.. I Like you.. No, scratch that. I love you. I’ve been in love with you ever since we met. Ever since we were basically in elementary school.” He looked at you with the most loving eyes. But now what were you gonna say.

“I..” you hesitated yourself, scared that this was all a dream, you pinched your hand under the table. When you feel the pain, you knew you had to go on. “I- I love you too, Baek.”

“Like /that/?” His calm smile growing on his face. You could see a bit of his ears growing red.

“Yes,” you giggled. “Like /that/” You both just sat there smiling, not knowing what to say next, and for the first time, you guys were having an awkward moment. Luckily the waitress brought your over your foods. They placed your favorite sausage and pancakes. The smell of the most perfect pancakes you’ve ever seen made your stomach growl.

“Thank you for the meal~” you chimed.

“Eat up,” Baekhyun said as he started grabbing the utensils for his eggs and pancakes.

About an hour passed by you two slowly eating and just talking and then you guys left, heading back to your place, agreeing to watch Interstellar. While driving back, Baekhyun was contemplating on whether he could hold your hand or not. He would keep on glancing towards your hand laying on the seat, open, just ready for him to hold. He would reach sometimes but bail and put it on the joystick. His fingers would constantly be tapping or fiddling or something. You noticed how antsy he was being, especially with his hand and soon you were able to connect the dots. When he lifted his hand to “hold” the joystick, you reached and grabbed his hand and held it. You used your other free hand and turned up the radio up as Electric Kiss was playing.

“Better?” You smiled.

“Yes~” Baekhyun smiled and squeeze your hand. A minute passed until Baekhyun asked again. “Y/N..”

“Hm?” You looked over at him.

“I know I’ve asked this before but..”

“What is it?”

“Who was your first bias from EXO?” He grinned, knowing the answer. “And please be very honest,” emphasis on the very.

You rolled your eyes knowing he knew the answer. But you had something better in mind.

“Mm, I don’t know. I told you someone before, but I’m pretty sure it was Luhan or even Chanyeol.” You looked over at him with a smug look on your face.

He instantly looked over at you, mouth agape with a slight smile on his face.

“Oh really,” he squeezed your hand more and tried to start tickling you.

“No, no, no, no, no, stop!” you laughed. “Hey! Focus on driving!” you yelled trying to push his hand back.

“Alright, alright,” he laughed. Baekhyun went back to focus on getting you two back alive. His hand lingered on the steering wheel again and patted the board while at a red light.

You were just on your phone, looking through some apps, looking outside. “The weather’s really nice,” you think to yourself before you feel a warm hand holding yours. You look down to your hand and back up to see your best friend’s handsome face. You thought back to that moment again back in the cafe to when the guy you’ve known all your life, who you loved so much, confessed his love to you. You noticed the way while you were telling him that you loved him back, his eyes, they were just so full of love. You could tell from the way he looked that he was ready for acceptance or denial right then and there. But.. When you said those words, you saw something new in his eyes. A new brightness sparkled in his eyes when he heard the words he had been waiting for years to hear.

He turned back around as you just admired him from the side. You couldn’t help but smile. Who could resist smiling at him; he was an angel. (Protect himmm) You just looked down at your hands, the way his thumb brushed over your knuckles and how he drew imaginary shapes on your hand. You were practically melting. You just smiled in your lap, appreciating him and his existence.

Baekhyun could see you out of the corner of his eye. The way you looked at him was what he’s been dreaming of how you could look at him and return his love. No wonder so many guys were after you. The way you looked at him with love would make any guy swoon and soften for you. You were just too cute. The way you smiled and how your eyes would disappear into little crescents when you were always with him because you were always smiling. The way you were to persistent and hard working with school and you life. You were put together perfectly. No wonder you got a scholarship into Korea’s top school. He knew that if he wasn’t an idol, he would’ve asked you out years ago. He kept his eyes on the road, but you were always in his sight. His heart beat harder and faster in his chest as he kept on looking up from his peripheral vision to see you smiling and brushing your delicate fingers over his fingers.

He pulled into the parking lot and parked his car. He turned off the engine and opened the door when he told you to wait for a moment. He got out of the car while you still sat there, wondering what he was doing. He walked back around the car and combed his fingers through his hair before stepping up to your door and opened it.

“My lady,” he bowed a little and held out his free hand as the other held open the door.

He was driving you crazy. Could he be any more perfect?

“Oh, why thank you,” you grabbed his hand and held your wallet and phone in hand. He closed the door behind you. “What a gentleman, but where did Baekhyun go?”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?!” He smiled.

“I’m just kidding, chill,” you laughed.

He held onto his hand as you both walked up to your apartment. He swung your arms back and forth while singing aloud a bit.

You honestly loved his voice. You loved everything about him. He was such a caring person and a big hearted guy. His voice and his body were add ons that made him even more perfect. And don’t get me started on this guy and kids.

You both walked up the stairs to your apartment on the second floor and he was just skipping steps effortlessly while you had to run up the stairs since you couldn’t skip steps as fast as him.

He glanced back and saw you struggling a bit and slowed down. He chuckled to himself and felt a little blush grow on his cheeks. Agh you were too cute. You both arrived at your apartment and went in to get ready for the movie.

You slipped off your vans and went started heading into your bedroom.

“I’m gonna change real quick, brb,” you said, closing your door. “You can start getting ready!” You shouted through your door.

“Okay!” Baekhyun shouted back. He places both of your shoes on your shoe rack and headed for the guest bedroom. Since you two were so close, it was natural for him to leave his clothes here and yours back at the dorm. Some nights, he didn’t even go back to the dorms. He would text you once as a heads up and then he would normally shower, eat a takeout dinner he brought or eat something you made (which you almost burned down your house). He ate it barely able to stay awake and afterwards, he would crash into the bedroom. Over time, especially with his hectic and stressful schedules, he would come over to hand and relax. You even over time started decorating the room to suit him more. He quickly changed into some simple black patagonia sweater and some gray sweatpants. Then he went into the kitchen and heated up some popcorn.

You could smell the popcorn as it was heated all the way from your kitchen. It smelled so good, you couldn’t wait to eat some. You dressed up into your old high school softball sweatpants and put on your favorite hoodie.. Which was Baekhyun’s but you stole. Earlier, you knew he didn’t care, but what about now? Were you guys together? Like /that/? Like officially? Because he never said anything. You stood there for about two minutes contemplating. You held the bottom of the hoodie and thought about whether you should wear another hoodie or not. Ah, screw it. Even if you weren’t official, he still wouldn’t care.. Right? You went into your bathroom and got a makeup remover cotton pad and took off your eyebrows.. But BUT BUT, there was hardly a difference since you put on a light amount.. Hehe. hAnyways, as Baekhyun put the bowls of popcorn on the glass table and reached for the remotes to turn on your TV, he realized something when he went to go put the disk in.

“Uh, Y/N?” He was kneeled down in front of your movie cabinet looking around the other boxes.

“What?”You called from your bathroom, brushing your hair.

“The disk isn’t in the case,” a sudden realization hit you. You let your younger brother borrow the movie, but of course, his airhead self didn’t take the DVD case with him. “Should we watch another movie?”

“Uh, no,” you were actually a bit disappointed since you were actually excited to watch this movie again, but it was okay. “We can watch in my room, my dad just got a new subscription to HBO. Bring the popcorn and drinks,” you finished brushing your hair and went back out to turn on your tv.

“Okay.” You heard him walk to your fridge to grab some water and grab the bowls. You heard his footsteps making his way to your room. He used his foot to nudge open the door and place down the goodies on your mini coffee table where you would sometimes work on your homework.

“Will this be okay? Won’t the smell get stuck in your room?” He looked so soft and comfy.

“Oh, right,” you glanced down his outfit. You feel a light burn on your face once again while pushing open your window. “We’re dressed almost the same.. Again,” you thought to yourself.

“She’s so cute,” Baekhyun thought. “Wait.. Is.. Is that my hoodie?” He couldn’t really tell, but spoke up.

“Y/N,” you turned around.

“Is that my hoodie?” He places his hands on his hips and smiled,

Your face grew darker once again, you made a duck face and thought “hard.”

“..nooooo…” you turned back around to the window, pretending to latch the window, but you already did. “Shoot..” You thought to yourself. “He kNEw I wAS weARinG HISSS…”

YOu suddenly feel his arms snake around your waist as you feel his chin against the top of your head.

“Aww, don’t be embarrassed~” he rocked you back and forth. “You look so adorableee!” Now you really were embarrassed. You put your hands up to your face and covered yourself, you felt yourself growing redder and redder by the second.

“No, no, no, don’t cover yourself, cutie,” he turned you around by your shoulder and bent donw a little. He grabbed your wrists and tried to move your hands away.

“Aw, why are you so shy, don’t be~” he pulled you into his chest and rocked back and forth. His arms wrapped around your neck and head. (im so soft rn dont touch me).

You moved your hands away from your face and wrapped them around his mid back. He feel your arms and looked down at you to see your face buried into his hoodie with a smile.

“Come on, let me set up the movie,” you pushed him off of you and grabbed the remote and sat in your spot on the bed. He grabbed the popcorn and sat next to you. He sat all the ay back with his head leaning on the pillows and you sat further up a bit, pulling up the movie.

When the movie started, you grabbed your curtain remote that lowered your thicker and darker curtains over the windows, except for the one exactly to your right so the popcorn smell wouldn’t be so strong later on. Luckily, there was no glare too. As the first scene came on, Baekhyun pulled on your waist to have you lay down next to him. In the past when you two watched movies together, you would just lay down next to each other, but this time, he pulled you into his arms. It was.. Warm.. and soft. A cold breeze blew into the room and you shuddered a bit. He felt you shiver and wrapped his arms around you a bit tighter. The movie progressed to where you cried about two times already. Baekhyun would turn you over to face him so you wouldn’t watch the sad scene, but you loved this movie so much that you already had the scene memorized into your head. You cried into his hoodie and he would wipe away your tears with the pad of his thumb.

“Shh, don’t cry,” he cooed.

You turned back around when he told you the scene was over, but you already knew. Your eyes were threatening to shut as the movie was about three quarters of the way done. You yawned every now and then, rubbing at your eyes.

Baekhyun felt your deep inhales against his chest and brushed a strand of your hair from your face.

“If you want to sleep you can, okay? I’ll be your pillow,” he rubbed your arm.

You’ve never feel so tired before, especially while watching one of your favorite movies. You barely nodded your head when you fell asleep on his arm that he let you use as a secondary pillow.

“I love you, Baek,” you whispered as your turned yourself to face his chest, away form the light.

“I love you more, Y/n,” he yawned. He stared down at your peaceful state before he fell asleep as well. He lingered a kiss on your forehead and you both slept there while the tv stayed on.

~~~~~

Masterlist

[cortex-reaver]

Chapter 64: Loud Electronica Interlude

EHRMAGERD AN UPDATE!

Fic Masterpost

Warnings: Language, violence, explosions, cyberspace being…cyberspace

Hacker groaned as the regenerator room swam into view again.

“Ouch,” he muttered, scrubbing at his forehead where that last cyber-dart had slammed into his avatar’s face before he’d dropped out.

He pumped a second around of Stam-Up and Genius drugs into his system as he shook his head to clear it. Cortie stared sadly up at him from inside her ball, but said nothing. He patted her reassuringly, opting for silence as well.

“No luck yet?” Goggles asked worriedly. He shook his head.

“Too many security systems running?”

He nodded. He then motioned that he was heading back. Goggles nodded grimly. He closed his eyes, and dove into cyberspace. The view looked little better than when he’d left.

He promptly ducked five more gleaming blue cyber-darts flying his way, slapping up his ICE shield barely in time.

Hacker: Dammit, didn’t I just leave this party?

All three Stooges had put up their own ICE bubbles, deflecting the vast array of glowing darts flashing outward from Cortie’s drifting cone like angry porcupine quills. The darts glowed purple as they hit the Reavers’ bubbles and evaporated into puffs of broken code. Their bubbles weakened where they impacted, allowing any darts heading to similar areas to whip past their shields and hit the skulls themselves.

Hacker glanced to Cortie.

Multiple intruders in-bound. Third-level security systems activated, the cone announced in its flat voice. Cortie’s face crumpled on its top, looking even sadder.

She mouthed the words “I’m so sorry” before the cone turned so that he couldn’t see her face anymore.

Hacker: Eh, I figured it was just warming up to the Good Shit. Time to see how this megapulser works.

The cone’s bubble spat several dozen gleaming black missiles, long crackling trails of green energy following them. They were slightly longer than his avatar’s body, but only half the size of the Stooges’. The code-darts paled next to them in size. Hacker dismally guessed they would pack a far worse wallop.

He switched to the megapulser, and fired off a shot at one of the cyber-missiles. A gigantic glowing blue pulser diamond, made of jagged star-like edges, flew out. It smacked solidly into the missile, which exploded into a thousand sparkling pixels of digital shrapnel. Unfortunately, the shrapnel exerted plenty of damage – his shield bubble rippled and flickered around the tiny specks’ impacts.

He almost completely missed the next missile as it whipped towards him. He ducked away, but to no avail as the projectile bounced off his shield. The bubble rippled wildly, pixelating across a thousand colors. Then it crumpled completely in a flash of waning code.

A warning alarm pinged in his consciousness. Compared to the darts, which took several hits to burn out his shield, these were definitely worse. He was now open to other missiles – and just from the shield damage, he guess they would kick him out of c-space on one hit.

He rebooted his ICE, restoring its shield around himself. He fired again at the next missile, then screamed as a flying circular sawblade whipped towards his face. He ducked it at the last second, cursing as it shredded a portion of his ICE shield on its way out. He blinked in shock as he realized what had happened.

The cone had fired more than just missiles. A lot more.

The entire section of c-space between him and the cone was now full of flying circular blades, glowing spheres of angrily crackling lightning, and racing missiles.

The Stooges closed ranks, firing their own pulsers with a speed that dazzled Hacker’s eyes whenever he looked in their direction.

Moe: HOLY SHIT you’re right this just got fugly.

Larry: Argh stupid fuckin…BRB…

Curly: Watch your back, Hacker! Those things are–

Hacker watched Larry’s skull vanish, then reappear where it’d vanished–

Something flashed in his peripheral vision.

Cursing, he barely dodged another circular blade as it raced towards his avatar’s neck. He threw a pulser shot at it, turning it into pixel dust. Right behind it came two missiles and a ball of angrily crackling energy.

The ball smacked into his ICE shield, blowing it out completely with a loud crackle of green lightning. His HUD’s counter indicated at least five seconds before his ICE restored it.

SHIT shit shit shit–

He flew wildly, scrambling to dodge the incoming projectiles.

He spotted the Stooges splitting up with equal speed, racing in wide arcs while letting each other shoot out any pursuers. He joined them, blasting away at anything coming too close to him or them.

Beyond, the cone floated haplessly as it continued its assault. He watched as its ICE doubled in strength and opacity, turning from blue to a near-black.

Hacker: Just hang in there, Cortie. Just hang in there. We’ll get through. Just a matter of time here.

He switched to cyber-projectiles, sending off green arrow-shaped missiles after the waves of pursuing missiles, sawblades, and energy balls whipping around. Explosions rocked the local c-space with shockwaves.

Hacker: Is it me or are the security systems WORKING? We still aren’t close enough for me to send null.ethic over!

Larry: Yeah we’re gonna have to step it up.

Moe: This is—OW! FUCKIN—

Moe’s skull crumpled under the barrage of two missiles and one circular blade, its pixels flying wildly askew. The Reaver returned quickly enough, spitting out a rapid stream of pulser blasts at the next cluster of incoming attackers.

Larry: LOOK OUT!

A broad beam of yellow-green energy flashed out, smashing into Curly’s skull. Its pixels lit on fire as they blasted outwards in a rolling blue-green blastwave that bowled Hacker, Larry, and Moe over.

When the trio had straightened and rejoined Curly’s freshly reloaded skull, Hacker let out a frustrated growl.

The ethics program had changed its tactics again.

Brilliant beams of angry energy lanced across cyberspace, seeking the foursome. So far, they didn’t touch the regenerators. Then Hacker saw the replicator’s systems diamond crumpling into two floating halves as they fired. The sphere of other replicator systems twitched and spun wildly until they simply fell to a heap of deactivated icons on the floor. Craig was going to have his work cut out for him trying to fix that.

Larry: SHEEEIT now that’s nasty.

Hacker: Welcome to my life from forty years ago! Talk about reliving the old days!

Curly: HOLY FUCK THAT HURT!

Hacker yelped as one of the beams grazed past his avatar, neatly vaporizing a whole cluster of passing data icons. The replicator definitelywasn’t going to work anytime soon. Neither were the lights in that back corner Tamora liked. Good thing she preferred it dark there.

Hacker: MOVE MOVE MOVE! Make yourselves as hard to hit as possible!

He flew into a long twisting arc that included numerous frantic barrel rolls and sharp turns as he dodged the beams. The Stooges’ larger skull avatars fared worse than his, exploding repeatedly and re-loading into cyberspace amid the ashes of their predecessors.

Brilliant green light slammed into Hacker’s field of vision. Pain scrambled his senses as everything dwindled to dazzling lines of green and yellow glitch.

The regenerator room swam into view as Hacker slumped to the floor. Cortieball fell from his lap and rolled slowly away, her face staring worriedly at him as it remained upright. Goggles quickly picked up the ball, then walked over to him. Cortie mournfully watched Hacker as he lay with all his limbs sprawled out, staring up at the ceiling as he gasped for breath.

“Fuck, that hurt,” he muttered softly as the pain finally began to fade. “Ouch.”

He carefully sat up, and regarded the soldier as she walked up to him. Behind her, all three Stooges sat or lay in weary heaps, their limbs akimbo. Larry looked up at him and waved feebly.

Moe: Damn those beams are brutal…

Curly: No shit

Larry: Not sure if I can go back. Those beams are gonna clock me the second I reload in.

Goggles knelt and handed him the ball. Cortie stared forlornly up at him as he settled back into his cross-legged position. Exhaustion tugged at his body despite the high dose of Stam-Up and Genius in his system. He wearily scrubbed at his face.

“I feeEL HelPleSssS,” she whispered. “JUst WATcHInG aS yoUU DwinDLe whiLe TryINg to…s-s-saAVE meeE.”

He ran his hands along the ball’s surface, wishing it were squeezable. He’d never heard her sound so miserable. Or so hopeless. Every iteration of SHODAN he’d met spouted confidence and a calm assurance they would live. But Cortie sounded so very close to completely giving up.

He held the ball close to his chest again as he ran through his assortment of system menus. There had to be something on here. Something in this goddamn beast of a rig that could turn things around. Something.

He rummaged long and hard, digging through menus and sub-menus. Nothing stood out except advanced drug cocktails, assorted cyberspace weapons, and the system reset needed to send a Reaver back into cyberps–

He ducked into the System Reset options, wondering if there was a way to automatically reload back into cyberspace without a conscious desire to do so. Perhaps the Super-Reavers had upgrades on the basic Reaver configuration?

Hm. Cyberspace reload – intention-based. Aha! OK, gonna set that to automatic. Hokay. I’ll just drop back into C-space no matter what happens. Stooges seem to have that already set so, cool.

Let’s see…what else.

Weapons reload – none chosen. Huh what’re the options? Oooh, last weapon loaded? I’ll set it to that. That’ll save me looking for something to shoot when I auto-reload.

All right. What else is in here? Attack Recovery Modes? I thought I already covered this. Oh, they’re for heavy-duty attacks? Huh, let’s see…

Hacker blinked as he read through the Attack Recovery Mode options.

System override blockers…nice, I’ll turn those on. Cyberspace buffer reload…already on, automatic ICE reload – oh I’d get my shield back pronto, definitely turning that on – OH WOW.

Rootkit Defense Options? Oooooooh, enhanced rootkit detection, cutoff systems designed to keep a rootkit out of essential systems. NICE. Very nice.

Huh. What’s this?

Oh. My. God. Ohmygod oh my god…

ROOTKIT COUNTERMEASURES?! WHY DIDN’T I THINK OF THIS BEFORE? AUGHHHHH.

Hacker quickly read through the options, while screeching internally.

Once he was sure he’d read the menu correctly, he grinned broadly as he turned his attention to the ball in his hands.

“Cortie. You’re not gonna believe this,” he chortled.

She blinked up at him.

“I’ve got rootkit defenses all up in this shit,” he answered quickly. “If I get in range, my rig can keep your rootkit from messing too much with me.”

Cortie blinked. Then blinked again.

“ThaAT Must be HOow thEeeEy Did It. TheEY resisTED mY neURaL roOTkiT UntIL theY CouLD finISH sEnDINg the ParAMEtERr-r-rs.”

Hacker perked.

“So basically all I’d have to do is run headlong into your rootkit’s range, and let it scoop null.ethic out of my brain?”

Cortie stared at him in awe for several long seconds, then nodded slowly.

“You could write it as a Trojan,” Goggles suggested. “Make it look like an ethics upgrade or something? Something the params’ll scoop up before figuring out it’s meant to break ‘em.”

“I like it,” Hacker said with a widening grin. “That’ll make sure it doesn’t check the file too fully, and she can take it from there. I still know how to code for Tri-Op shit. They’re fun to gunk up with viruses. Eh. Old hobby. Old pre-Citadel hobby. Anyways….uhhh…lemme get into my softs writer and see what I can do.”

[blessed-but-distressed]

#FindEmmaSwanAFriend

Feeling left behind by her more successful, settled friends, Emma Swan moves to Scotland on a whim. Sure, she’s winning at Instagram, but something is still missing from her new life. Fortunately, her friends back home are on it. #FindEmmaSwanAFriend goes viral. Enter Killian Jones, reluctant columnist, who is on the hunt for his newest subject, and may just have found her. CS AU.

also on ff.net

Tagging: @katie-dub , @wholockgal, @kat2609, @whovianlunatic, @optomisticgirl, @ladyciaramiggles, @the-lady-of-misthaven, @emmaswanchoosesyou, @ilovemesomekillianjones, @biancaros3, @cigarettes-and-scotch-whisky, @ms-babs-gordon, @ab-normality, @andiirivera and whoever else asks me.

Thanks always to the cool-as-fuck @lenfaz, for her tireless efforts in keeping me motivated.

Emma

One thing you could say about Emma, she knew how to hold a grudge. She knew how to hold them close, how to nurture and how feed them until they grew up big and strong, and there were no shortage of people on her shit list. For instance, to this day if a certain person with the initials N.C. ever came waltzing back into her life, even a decade after the fact, she was pretty sure she still had enough latent rage bottled up to cause serious bodily harm.

Forgiveness had never really been her thing.

And yet…

She could play the strong and silent type all she liked, but the truth was, life was better with friends. Even when they had been an ocean away, her life had still been a flurry of group texts and Skype dates, of close confidences and harmless gossip. And national laughing stock or no national laughing stock, she missed it. She missed them.

She was almost surprised by the intensity of it, as it rose up inside her. That unfamiliar longing, the one she’d thought she’d long buried along with the rest of it. But as she sat in that unheated sedan, watching the landscape disappear beneath a blanket of fresh snow with a virtual stranger, she couldn’t see the point in pretending anymore.

Emma Swan was not an island.

So yes, she’d forgiven them. Conditionally. There would be atonement, of course. Apologies, and care packages and promises to never, ever, ever, fucking do something like that again. And it felt like a good thing, like a salve to her wounded pride. Like the grown up thing to do.

That is, until Ruby started stalking Killian Jones on Facebook.

“You didn’t mention he was hot.”

“Who?” Emma asked absently, still trying to get herself situated in front of her laptop screen without spilling her cocoa or her bowl of popcorn.

“Your writer guy. Killian?”

Emma almost spat out her mouthful of cocoa, mental alarm bells ringing. “Rubes…”

“Chill,” the brunette advised. “Take a yoga breath. Yes, okay, I looked the guy up. Of course I did. I wanted to make sure he wasn’t an axe murderer. But, wow, you have been really holding out on us.”

“He’s not… It’s a professional relationship, Ruby. Don’t make it weird.”

Or professional enough. Not that any other of Emma’s professional relationships involved watching Pixar movies with nephews, or frank admissions of orphanhood, but hell, what did she know about journalism? Maybe that was standard.

“So you mean you haven’t noticed he’s sex on legs?” Ruby pressed, her tongue peeking mischievously out of the corner of her mouth.

Okay, so Emma had noticed. It was kinda hard not to notice, especially when he insisted on wearing such tight jeans all the time, and button downs with the sleeves rolled up to expose criminally toned forearms. She didn’t even want to get into the scruff situation. Or that smirk. Whatever else the man might be, he was not modest about his looks.

“Please don’t objectify him. Trust me, he doesn’t need the ego boost. Anyway, I’m pretty sure he already has like a harem of casual conquests for that.”

“Wow,” Ruby said, folding her hand under her chin thoughtfully. “That sounded almost catty. Are we perhaps a little jealous of Killian Jones’s harem?”

“I’m not jealous. I have…” Okay, so Emma’s love life comprised entirely of streaming Sex in the City episodes ad nauseum whilst snuggled inside her hideously unfashionable, but unquestionably warm Portland Pirates pyjamas. But that was fine, she was still fresh from the whole Walsh debacle. It wasn’t like she couldn’t go out and find a guy, if she wanted one. “…Other concerns,” she finished lamely.

“Right,” Ruby said, sounding wholly less than convinced. “So you mean you don’t want to see the guy’s embarrassing high school pictures then? Because I have hit the motherlode. We’re talking ponytail. Grunge phase.”

Emma groaned. “Please tell me you didn’t Friend Request him.”

A sheepish grin crossed her friend’s features. “I plead the fifth?”

“God dammit, Ruby.” The last thing she needed was Killian Jones getting yet more dirt on her. He already knew way too much as it was. And Ruby was second only to Mary Margaret in the blabbermouth stakes. It was a disaster waiting to happen.

There was a pause. “There’s a fang earring.”

“You’re kidding.” The gods couldn’t be that kind.

“I’m really not.”

Ruby looked like the cat that got the canary, and rightfully so. Maybe Emma had this whole thing backwards. Maybe it wasn’t about how many of her secrets Killian could extort from her and her friends. Maybe it was about how many she could extract from him.

“I love you.”

“I know.”

Your friend Ruby added me on Facebook. Friendly lass. Very chatty. KJ

I know. Nice ponytail, by the way. ES

…

I knew I should have deleted those. KJ

I’m so glad you didn’t. ES

I bet you are. Well, laugh it up, lass. Ruby’s albums aren’t entirely devoid of compromising pictures either. The one titled Spring Break ‘10 has been especially… revealing. KJ

Oh god. I forgot about that. Brb. Changing my privacy settings. ES

A little late for that, lass. If I’m going down, I’m taking you with me. KJ

Truce? ES

Truce. KJ

On her best days, Emma could pack out a lecture hall with nearly 200 warm bodies, but come Friday afternoon the numbers tended to dwindle as most of her students made an early start on their weekends. A good thing too or else she might not have noticed him there, seated in the back row, whilst she was mid-way into comparing the war of 1812 to its more modern counterparts.

She stuttered to a stop, put off by the sight of him, hand on his chin and apparently listening intently.

“One.. uh…” She shot him a glare as she fought to remember what she was saying.

“One might be tempted to draw parallels here, of course. The kind of hubris that led Thomas Jefferson to state that conquering Canada would be 'a mere matter of marching’ is hardly unique to American foreign policy. Think about it: Vietnam. Afghanistan. Iraq. All intended to be swift, decisive victories that were anything but. I know this is history, kids, but don’t be afraid to make connections. It’s true what they say: 'What has happened before will happen again. What has been done before will be done again. There is nothing new in the whole world.’ If I want you to take anything away from this course, it’s this: People don’t really change. Politics have always held an attraction for the arrogant and the short-sighted. Especially in the United States.”

As she waited for the laughter to die down, she glanced up at the clock above the whiteboard to see her hour fast drawing to a close. “And now that I’ve disparaged my country for your amusement, a reminder that next Thursday your argumentative essays are due. Was the War of 1812 just a footnote in the greater Napoleonic Wars, or was it a defining moment of a young and fragile nation? You decide. Either way, I want to be convinced!”

Killian waited for the last of the students to shuffle out before he approached Emma at her podium, still gathering up the last of her leftover handouts. His hands, the real and the plastic, were in his pockets, a grin stretching over his lips.

“You quoted Ecclesiastes,” he said by way of greeting, unable to completely keep the surprise from his voice.

Emma shrugged, trying to keep her attention on packing away her supplies and not Killian Jones’s opinion of her teaching methods. “It’s been known to happen.”

“Isn’t that a conflict of interest? Mixing scripture and history? In my experience, the two don’t tend to mesh well.”

Emma paused in her motions to raise an eyebrow. “Awfully philosophical today, aren’t we?”

He spread his arms, indicating the lecture hall they stood in. It was one of the university’s oldest, each row back even steeper than the one before it, which sometimes culminated in Emma feeling like she was performing live at Red Rocks. But she liked it, musty as it was, the wooden desks engraved with literally centuries worth of graffiti from bored college students. It had character. “Seems like an appropriate venue for philosophizing, don’t you think?”

“C'mon, Aristotle,” she said, pulling him towards the door by his sleeve. “You can buy me a drink.”

They didn’t go far, settling in the back of the closest Mexican restaurant to Emma’s office, two bottles of Corona sat on the table between them, a wedge of lime sticking out of each.

“So…” Emma started, absently picking at the label of her bottle. “Was there a reason for your visit, or was this just a standard evaluation of my teaching methods?”

“Eh, no. Not exactly, lass,” Killian admitted, reaching up to scratch behind his ear. “Actually I was hoping to run something by you.”

He was nervous. Emma could tell. And that made Emma nervous. In her experience, if someone was afraid to ask something of her, it was usually because she wasn’t going to like it. Not. One. Bit.

“Oh, really?”

“I wanted to change the format of our little…” He made a vague gesture in the air, “…agreement.”

Emma was wary. “Change it… how?”

“Well,” he began, pulling himself up straighter in his chair. “For one thing, if I have to read another one of those responses from your website, I will actually gauge out my own eyeballs. They’re creeps, Swan. Sociopaths. Perverts. People who still live with their parents. You can do better.”

She wasn’t sure whether she should be flattered, or horrified. “O…kay. So, what’s the game plan?”

“Just, hear me out alright? I’ve given this rather a lot of thought. What if, instead of just shooting fish in a particularly grimy barrel, we try a more… old fashioned approach?”

“Old-fashioned?”

He winced prematurely, as if already anticipating her negative reaction. “Well, not old-fashioned exactly. But certainly adopting more tied and true methods. I thought the column could double as a how-to guide, of sorts. How to make friends in a new city.”

“What kind of methods?”

“I thought we might ease into it. Mutual friends. Actually, it was your friend, Ruby, that gave me the idea.”

Considering recent events, Emma did not like the way this was going. Her displeasure must have shown on her face, because he was quick to correct himself.

“Well, not Ruby herself. But in befriending me, I couldn’t help but notice that she has a Facebook friend in my extended circle of contacts. Edinburgh based.”

“Really?” Before she knew what she was doing, she already had her phone out, her Facebook app booting up.

“Aye,” Killian said, leaning in to peer at the device upside down. “And she has rather more than 39 Facebook Friends.”

Emma snatched her phone back to her chest, eyes narrowing. “What? I’m not sentimental.”

If anything, he looked amused. “Clearly. So this friend of hers, her name is Belle French. Ever met her?”

“Belle?” Emma asked, scrolling through Ruby’s friends list until she hit paydirt. Belle French. The brunette in the picture wasn’t immediately familiar, but when she opened up the profile and saw the woman’s birthplace, something twigged.

“I haven’t met her, but I know who she is. She’s the Australian girl Ruby dated freshman year.”

She waited for some leery comment, some perceptible widening of his eyes, but there was nothing. Emma had clearly been spending too much time around college boys.

“But that was before Ruby and I were friends,” Emma continued. “I think she transferred to another college or something.”

“And would you have any moral objections to befriending an ex of your friend?”

Emma considered that. “I mean, I’m pretty sure the break up was fairly amicable. Ruby isn’t exactly the type to get emotional over something like that. Or she wasn’t. Maybe now. But, you said she lives here?”

“Aye, she works in a library in Morningside. Children’s librarian. She does all the little voices when she reads to them.”

Emma frowned. It was way too much information to be accidentally gleaned from the internet. “Stalker, much?”

“Journalist, Swan,” he corrected. “Journalist.”

So has your friend blessed our endeavours? KJ

You mean did she give me Belle French’s email address? Yes. ES

And she didn’t mention any glaring personality defects or mutations? KJ

Jfc, mutations? ES

Let’s just say trawling through your inbox these past weeks has been quite an education and leave it at that. KJ

Yeah, you can’t just say something like that and not back it up with pictorial evidence. ES

I’m only thinking of you, Swan. KJ

Jones. ES

Prepare yourself. KJ

-KJ has sent you an image file-

Oh my god. Why would they send me that? Why would, what even? ES

I DID try to warn you. KJ

That’s a tail, right? ES

I certainly hope so. KJ

Killian

“Texting your new bird?”

Killian looked up from his phone, only to see Will giving him a conspiratorial look over his pint of ale.

Truthfully, Killian sometimes rued the day he ever became entangled with the likes of Will Scarlett. There was something squirrelly about the man, and it wasn’t just his Midlands accent.

No, Will was more the the type of friend who liked to document each and every night out with a series of steadily more incriminating posts to social media, under the guise of 'havin’ a laugh’. Not to mention the fondness for off-colour jokes and mysterious disappearances whenever it came time to stand his round.

Your man in a crisis, he was not.

“No new bird,” Killian replied coolly, slipping his phone back into his pocket and taking a long sip of IPA.

Robin was taking far too long to arrive.

“Then an old one?” Will enquired, undeterred by Killian’s reticence. “Are you and that Kiwi chick still a thing? Because if you’re not, I was thinking of-”

Killian held up a hand, forcing the man into silence. “You’re not her type, trust me.”

“What?” Will demanded, affronted. “Two-handed? Worried she might prefer a bloke who can multi-task?”

If Killian wasn’t still nursing his first pint he might have punched him. Instead he settled for letting his prosthetic land on the table in front of him with a heavy thud. His false hand had fallen to the mercy of Lachie and a permanent marker the previous evening, so he’d foregone it today in favour of the more utilitarian hook. It had made him feel self-conscious on leaving the house, but now he appreciated the way the metal glinted menacingly by the low light of the overhead lights.

“Erudite,” Killian corrected, rather enjoying the look on Will’s face as he grappled with whether to be offended or not, the word ironically failing to appear in his own personal lexicon.

Mercifully, before Will could decide either way, Killian spied the third member of their party finally approaching, and turned to him in greeting.

“Sorry I’m late, lads,” Robin said, as he took a seat opposite Killian, shedding his jacket. “The in-laws were late to pick up Roland. Some tosser tried to drive his lorry over the Forth in this wind and it fairly well cartwheeled over. Both lanes closed. Bloody nightmare.”

Though they’d grown up together, Robin was in many ways the complete antithesis of Will. Where Will was flighty and irresponsible, Robin was dependable and steadfast. Though of course, Robin had a young son at home, and a wife not long in the ground. Fucking cancer. You could argue he’d come by his virtues naturally, but it was hard to say for certain. Many a man had managed to forge themselves into something altogether stronger under the flame of adversity.

He reminded Killian almost uncomfortably of Liam at times, if Liam had only managed to hold onto his sense of humour post-having kids.

“So who’s round is it?” Robin prompted, though he was already digging around for his own wallet. Killian didn’t need to look up to tell that Will’s chair was empty, and he breathed out a small sigh of relief.

“Cheap bastard,” Robin chuckled, almost fondly. Like Will was a chronically misbehaving puppy that he couldn’t quite stay mad at, no matter how many pairs of shoes it chewed through. Not an entirely erroneous description, now Killian thought about it. “Has he been giving you a hard time?”

“No more than usual,” he shrugged, but he knew the way he was currently grinding his jaw probably spoke volumes.

Robin considered him closely. “I think it might be time to switch to something stronger.”

“You just got here,” Killian pointed out.

“Well, I’ve got some catching up to do, haven’t I?” Robin said with a wink, clapping Killian on the shoulder as he made his way to the bar.

Lagavulin was his answer, coming back with three tumblers of amber liquid clutched precariously in his hands. Killian wasn’t a habitual whisky drinker, but he wasn’t one to turn down a dram of the good stuff. Let alone a double.

“You’re keen,” Killian noted, taking his tumbler with a grateful tip of his head.

“First night without the lad since, well… since just after the funeral, I suppose,” Robin said soberly. “Might as well get properly scuttered.”

The last time Killian had been properly scuttered he’d vomited in the back of a taxi and slept with his ex-girlfriend. Not the most promising of prospects.

“Do me a favour, will you?” he said suddenly, digging into his trousers pocket. “If I somehow get it into my head to call Tink tonight, do you think you can just throw my phone off a bridge instead?” he asked, tossing Robin the offending device.

“Whatever you say,” Robin agreed with a mock salute. But before he could tuck it away, the phone buzzed in his hands, causing a sly smile to appear on his face.

“You’ve a text. A few of them, actually. From an Emma?” He raised a significant eyebrow.

Killian snatched the phone out of his hands, and tucked it back into his pocket, sight unseen.

“American Emma?” Robin asked.

“Aye,” Killian grumbled out, taking the first sip of his whisky and letting it warm his insides.

“So it’s going well, then?” Robin ventured. “The column? I’ve been following along, for the most part.”

“S'fine. Well, alright, it’s been a disaster, actually,” Killian corrected. “The lass hasn’t taken to it, and most everyone who responded to the ad in the first instance was just a mouth-breathing creep looking to get laid. I’m going to have to tweak the entire format.”

“But you’re still setting her up with strangers, yes?”

Killian shrugged. “In a manner of speaking. Already got the next one nearly lined up. A children’s librarian from Australia. Quiet lass. A friend of Tink’s, actually. She mentioned that her divorce just came through. Might be in need of some friendly distraction.”

“Emotionally unavailable librarian type, you say?”

Killian hadn’t even noticed Will slip back into his seat, but he already wanted to punch him again. He turned to him with a cold stare. “Don’t even try it.”

“She have a thing for the educated blokes, too?”

Good to know someone had googled 'erudite’ on his phone outside.

“Oh, c'mon,” Robin coaxed, in a rare show of treachery. “This entire thing is about Emma making friends, yes? So why keep her all to yourself? Why not make a group outing of it? I would love to meet her, and I’m sure this librarian can handle anything our Mr Scarlett dishes out.”

Killian wasn’t sure why, but something inside him twisted uncomfortably at the idea of Emma mixing with his friends. Not that he thought she might embarrass him, or vice versa. Though introducing her to Will might belay all of the efforts he was making to save her from Edinburgh’s creep contingent. It just felt… like it would go poorly.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea…”

“Oh, really? And what were you planning on having them do?” Robin said, in a way that was far too reminiscent of Liam sat at his desk, dismissing Killian’ story pitches out of hand.

And god damn him, Killian caved. “They have a karaoke night in the pub up the stair. This librarian, Belle, apparently she’s quite into that.”

“Belle,” Will whispered dreamily, and Killian kicked him under the table.

It was stupid, now he thought about it. Supposing that Emma and this virtual stranger might bond over mutual humiliation as they warbled their way through a Best of the 80s karaoke mix. He was an idiot.

But Robin, on the other hand, merely grinned. “That’s brilliant. We could get a few more people together. Make a night of it.”

“You remember when I said it would be a bad idea?” Killian reminded him.

“Trust me,” Robin said. “I have it sorted.”

With a growing sense of foreboding, Killian finished off the last of his whisky, and pulled out his wallet to pay for the next round.

You really can’t spare ten minutes? KJ

Hey, if you want to sit here and grade forty nearly identical papers about Alexander Hamilton that use a factually inaccurate, albeit brilliant, Broadway musical as an academic reference, you’re welcome to switch places with me. ES

And you make it sound so inviting. KJ

Just spit it out, Jones. ES

Alright. But first, some caveats: 1) It was not my idea, 2) My hand was forced, 3) I am paying you. KJ

… ES

A few of my friends have taken it upon themselves to intercede in our Grand Experiment. Or to put it more plainly, in the interests of ruining my life they have decided to turn your friend-date with Belle into a “group-outing”, with both them and I riding shotgun. KJ

Scottish friends? ES

Mostly English. Or John might be Welsh, actually. He doesn’t say much, so it’s hard to know. KJ

Do you actually have any Scottish friends? ES

Fewer than you’d think. KJ

And how many people are we talking here, on this “group-outing”? ES

You’re being remarkably calm about this. KJ

How many? ES

Max 10. I promise. KJ

And you can vouch for them? ES

Most of them. Will is a tosser, but you can sort him out. Might be good for him, even. KJ

Just… ES

Just don’t leave me on my own with them, okay? You know I’m not good at small talk. ES

Roger that. KJ

Thank you. KJ

You owe me one, Jones. ES

Killian was already halfway up the stairs from the station when he felt the phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out, checking the caller ID. It wasn’t a number he recognised, though the area code was local. He was tempted to hit ignore, but in his line of work tips and sources came in all kinds. He answered.

“Mr Jones?” The voice on the other end of the phone was young, and to his ears, tearful.

“Aye?” No one ever called him Mr Jones. Not if he could help it.

“It’s Ashley. Ashley Boyd? The babysitter?”

Ah, yes. The lass that picked the boys up from school, and watched them until their parents came home from work. Barely out of school herself, from what he could remember. A blonde slip of a girl that even Lachie couldn’t bear to misbehave for. But why would she be calling him?

“Aye, I remember. What’s the matter, lass? Are the boys okay?”

“They’re fine. It’s only, Mr Jones… that is, the other Mr Jones, he was supposed to come home and relieve me an hour ago, and he’s not answering his phone. I called and left a message but…”

Killian’s heart leapt into his throat.

“…I mean, I don’t mind the extra hours usually, but I have an assignment due this week and…”

He tuned her out, his mind launching into a million terrible scenarios, each more horrific than the last. An hour late. Not answering phone. Not like Liam. Not at all.

“I’ll be right there,” he barked into the phone, taking the steps down two at a time, an arm already raised to hail a taxi.

He was halfway to calling Elsa when he remembered she was in London this week, meeting with potential investors for her next show. No need to worry her unnecessarily. Not immediately.

Instead he settled for dialling his brother’s phone on a loop, leaving a series of increasingly frantic messages.

“Where the fucking hell are you? Pick up. Pick up.”

“You’d better be in a bloody ditch, you bastard.”

“Please don’t be in a bloody ditch. Call me right back.”

By the time the taxi pulled up at the house he practically threw a handful of notes at the driver, and raced up the drive, gravel crunching ominously underfoot.

His stomach lurched to see Ashley was still there, pacing the kitchen with a stricken look on her face.

“Mr Jones?” She said, her relief evident. “Oh, thank god. The boys have been asking questions and-

"Aye, thank you,” he said, cutting her off before she started to spiral. He emptied out the rest of his wallet and pressed the cash into her sweaty palm. “Appreciate you staying, love.”

She looked uncertain for a moment, but after a coaxing nod from Killian she gathered up her coat and bag, and headed for the front door, visibly relieved to be absolved of responsibility.

He went into the living room to check on the boys, still bickering gently over a pair of action figures.

“Uncle Killian?” Callum asked, when he emerged from the hallway. “Where’s Daddy?”

“Just running a bit behind today, is all. You monsters hungry, yet? I was thinking pizza for dinner. Just while your Mum is away.”

In Killian’s experience, very little served to distract quite as well as the prospect of pizza. The boys seemed happy at least, moving on to arguing over toppings. Whilst they hotly debated the merits of pineapple vs no pineapple, he snuck back into the kitchen, phone already at his ear.

That was when he heard it. The crunch of gravel outside. Throwing his phone down on the counter, he sprinted towards the front door, pulling it open just in time to surprise the hell out of the person on the other side.

Liam. Liam. He was looking a little weary, and visibly sweating despite the chill, but otherwise no worse for wear.

“You fucking wanker,” Killian said by way of greeting, pulling his brother into a forceful hug against his will.

“Ger'off me,” Liam complained, and Killian released his hold on him, still shaking with leftover adrenaline.

“What time do you call this?”

“I’m so sorry. Are the boys-?”

“They’re fine. Oblivious. Expecting pizza, because I had to give them something. Might have overpaid your babysitter to the point of bribery though. She was freaking out. Hell, I was freaking out. Where the bloody hell have you been?”

“I didn’t mean to worry you. My phone died. I was already running late…”

At that Liam gestured towards the clock above the stove, and Killian had a momentary panic all his own.

Emma.

He’d forgotten to text Emma and tell her he would be late.

Shit. Fuck.

I am so sorry. Family crisis. Now resolved. I’ll be there as soon as I can. KJ

Swan? KJ

By the time he made it back to the Jinglin’ Geordie it was already half nine, and karaoke night was in full swing. Or it was for one lass, anyway. Belle. He recognised her from when he’d scoped out the library, now currently sobbing her way through the first verse of Wild Horses.

He’d thought she was almost pretty the first time he’d seen her, in a fussy librarian kind of way. Now it was hard to tell either way, with her face blotchy and the mascara streaming down her cheeks.

Bloody hell.

He looked around for Emma, for any of his compatriots, but the place was nearly empty, save for a handful of barflies at their usual posts. If he had to guess, he’d say the crying woman might have had something to do with that.

There was only one other customer, sat at the furthest table from the stage. She sat nursing a gin and tonic, reading from a stack of paper s in her lap by the light of her phone.

Killian slid into the seat across from her, his hands already steepled in front of him. He startled her as he did so, the red pen sliding from her grasp and disappearing somewhere on the grimy carpet.

“So it’s going well, I see.”

Sarcasm hadn’t been in his original plan, the one he’d been slowly forming in his mind on the taxi back into town. He’d had every intention of returning in a shower of profuse apologies. Free drinks. A bit of grovelling if necessary.

But upon seeing the fucking joke of an evening it had turned out to be, Killian could feel the apologies turn sour on his tongue. Why should he feel badly, when Emma clearly wasn’t even going to try? She was marking essays, for chrissakes. On an evening out. And who the bloody hell knew where his friends had got to?

As if sensing his mood, or simply projecting one of her own, Emma’s eyes narrowed.

“You think this is my fault?” she hissed, her stack of papers scattering as she leaned forward. “You think I wanted tonight to turn into Moaning Myrtle’s Greatest Hits? And who are you to talk? At least I showed up!”

He couldn’t say that their harsh whispering was attracting an audience, but the bartender certainly shot an annoyed glance their way.

Swallowing back an angry retort, Killian motioned for Emma to follow him, and lead the way to the side door. It opened out into a small designated smoking area, empty save for a derelict set of garden furniture and empty kegs. He motioned for her to take a seat, and she did, hugging herself against the cold.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” he said evenly. “But I really did have an emergency. I thought Liam- Bloody hell, it doesn’t matter what I thought. The point is, my nephews needed me.”

“I’m not mad about that!” Emma said, her voice gradually softening as she spoke. “I get it. Family stuff. It’s important. What I’m mad about is you sending me in blind! I know you know she got divorced this week. You’re you. Stalking people is your forte. So why not warn me? Why let me sit through two hours of this poor girl just unravelling before my eyes?”

She was right. He had known. Tink had warned him, in fact. And he’d simply dismissed it, figuring it wasn’t relevant. Clearly he’d underestimated the potent cocktail of alcohol and song, and all the ways it could dredge up the worst possible feelings.

He should have known. He’d paired them often enough, once a time.

He decided on a new strategy: contrition.

“How long has she been crying?”

“Since about half way through Tiny Dancer. No one could get the microphone off her after that. Not that a lot tried…”

“And my friends?” Killian asked gingerly.

“Ditched about half an hour in. I think they said something about the pub downstairs. Not that I blame them.”

“Bloody traitors,” Killian snarled.

“To be fair, they did ask me to go with them. But I thought I should… stay.” She shot a regretful glance towards the door they’d just exited, as if even now she felt guilty for leaving the girl inside.

“And Will behaved himself?” Killian asked, surprised.

“Oh, no, Will is definitely a jerk. Major jerk. But Robin’s okay. And your girlfriend is nice.”

Killian nearly choked on his own saliva. “My girlfriend?”

“It’s Tink, right? The one from New Zealand? Is that really her name?”

“Not my girlfriend,” Killian wheezed out, still fighting to regain his composure.

“Really?” She looked almost amused. “Will said…”

Next time he thought about punching Will Scarlett he was actually going to follow through.

“Will is a wanker. As discussed. And Tink is a lovely lass, but she and I have always managed to make a right mess of things. So to say she’s my girlfriend is viciously overstating what we have.”

“So you do have something?”

Killian groaned, wondering how he came to be explaining his not-even relationship to Emma Swan, of all people. Was this payback for interrogating her about that Walsh fellow? Was this karma come back to bite him?

“We used to date,” he admitted. “Now she mainly just yells at me. Which she used to do before, only now there’s very little make up sex involved. Barely any, unless there’s been far too much alcohol consumed.”

“Sounds healthy,” Emma said, patting him on the shoulder in a way that could only be condescending.

“Says the Queen of Healthy Relationships. How close were you to marrying a guy you didn’t even love, again?”

She gave him a shove, and he elbowed her back, but neither of them put any feeling into it.

“So, Swan. How about we go put Ms French in a taxi and fetch our compatriots. I feel a song coming on.”

“You’re going to sing?” she asked doubtfully.

“Aye, if you will.”

“I’m not really a singer…”

“I somehow doubt that. I can tell about people, Emma Swan, and you are a singer at heart.” He wasn’t sure how he was so certain. But he knew he was right.

“Yeah, in the shower, maybe…”

“A duet, then?” he suggested. “How do you feel about Sonny and Cher?”

“Please, god no.”

“A Whole New World?” he offered.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Elton John?”

“Better.”

“Elton John it is.”

[taegijae-blog]

BREAKFAST DELIVERY 10

pairing: 2jae

genre: fluff, if you squint there’s angst

word count: 3k

description: the school’s hottest boy im jaebum wants to get a certain boy’s number.  but the first problem is: he’s unhappy and not eating.

status: completed

note: this was originally posted on wakaba’s wattpad @/jaeholics

| part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 |

Thank God the day following that event was a Saturday, otherwise he'd have to shamefully face the two hearts he managed to break in one day.

Jaebum rolled around in his bed, hugging on the blankets, mumbling incoherently to himself. He felt like absolute garbage. Seeing that his alarm clock read 10:37, he slumped out of bed and dragged himself down to the bathroom. The house was empty as usual, meaning he could totally throw a party that night. If, you know, he didn't feel like dying. As he squirted some toothpaste onto his toothbrush and madly scrubbed his pearly whites, he groaned as he stared at himself in the mirror. He knew he was a good looking guy whose looks would attract mostly every gal or guy. After rinsing out his mouth, he smacked some water across the mirror and blurred the reflection of his sad-looking self. For once, he wished he was ugly. Jaebum tiredly zombie-walked his way over to the kitchen, checking the fridge for any food that possibly could've been left for him. Seeing that it was empty except for some eggs and milk, he already knew that his plans would be to go out for both lunch and dinner. Opening a cupboard, he grabbed a box of fruity cereal and dumped it into a ceramic bowl, pouring milk in after doing so. His dear cat, Nora, crawled up to his feet and rubbed herself against the skin lovingly. "At least you're here," he muttered under his breath, slurping some milk from his bowl as he made his way to the couch. He turned on the television and stared dully at the skin, allowing his pet to crawl onto his lap and rest there. Realizing that he hadn't checked his phone in a while, Jaebum reached for it since it was laying on the coffee table. He turned it on, only to be met with over a hundred missed text messages. annoyed, he unlocked his phone and saw that a particular someone added him to a chat group overnight after he fell asleep, which was the main cause of the overload of messages. He squinted at his screen while he scrolled through the messages. It took him a while to realize that those numbers were familiar to him: Jackson Wang, Park Jinyoung, and Choi Youngjae. The last message was sent a few hours ago, so he didn't bother sending anything to indicate that he read the chat. He put down his bowl of breakfast and became invested into the conversation they were having, feeling more and more uneasy. Nora jumped onto the table and quietly drank some of the milk as Jaebum's foot tapped in anxiousness. wango, 2 others [jype]: i'm muting this chat btw [wango]: bro I just want u to listen to my proposal [c.youngjae]: why do you even have my number?? [wango]: thats not important just listen rn [wango]: so jb hyung's like super depressed aight? [wango]: I HOPE HES READING THIS BTW WINK WINK [jype]: winking in text doesn't do anything [wango]: anyway [wango]: i want all three of you to meet up [wango]: and work this out together [wango]: i'm not going to interfere bc this is a u guys issue!! [wango]: u gotta fix it urselves arasso?? [c.youngjae]: ...how tho [wango]: there's a nice place in town [wango]: it's called Cafe A [wango]: all of three meet up there by 3 and talk it out!! [wango]: idc if you're busy or not [wango]: (unless ur planning to meet ur family bc then please go ahead and do that first family is first priority) [wango]: ARASSO?? [jype]: our 'talk' isnt going to last long, you know. [jype]: theres not much I can say

[jype]: it's always been a one sided thing anyway [jype]: i know he likes youngjae way more than he likes me [jype]: and i'm okay with that. [jype]: i just don't want to be thrown away because of that 'love' he has for him. [jype]: you reading this, youngjae? [c.youngjae]: yes, hyung... [jype]: good. [jype]: i don't hate you or anything. it's not like that.

[jype]: it's true that ive liked him since middle school [jype]: but I always knew that it'd ended up being like this [jype]: and how he isn't the kind of person to fall for his best friend [jype]: so I prepared myself for when this sort of thing happens   [jype]: it won't bother me, youngjae. go ahead and date him. [c.youngjae]: hyung, i [c.youngjae]: ...you have to understand that i don't really like him at the moment [c.youngjae]: i'm not sure if i'd agree to that [jype]: that's a shame [jype]: because a really great guy has a huge crush on you [jype]: and it's a waste for you to be ignorant about that. [wango]: ... [wango]: hoh my god  [wango]: i'm a rly good problem fixer

[wango]: jinyoung? 

[wango]: u still there?

[wango]: i guess not 

[jype]: i have plans for today. i'm not going to that cafe. [wango]: oh [wango]: well I guess it's fine now since u guys talked it out!! yeah!!! [wango]: youngjae, don't be discouraged! [wango]: both jaebum-hyung and jinyoung r amazing people [wango]: even tho they seem rly scary and act cold [wango]: its just their way of caring [wango]: ive known them for a long time [wango]: theyre literally the best friends ive ever had [wango]: jinyoung is a rly wise person, there's always a good reason to whatever he does [wango]: jaebum-hyung has sides to him that r like a dad or big brother that u can rely on [wango]: ... [wango]: youngjae??? [c.youngjae]: yeah [c.youngjae]: i'm listening [c.youngjae]: thank you, hyung [wango]: no problem man

[wango]: now go get that dick [c.youngjae]: ???? [wango]: jk jk lol [wango]: r u going to meet up w Jaebum-hyung at the cafe? it's a rly nice place I swear [c.youngjae]: maybe [c.youngjae]: i haven't heard what he says tho... [wango]: aw true [wango]: let me spam him brb [c.youngjae]: wait don't spam him;; what if he's just asleep?

[wango]: 

ugh ur too nice

[wango]:

fine I won't

[wango]:

i'll go spam markiepooh instead♥️♥️

[c.youngjae]:

...right

[c.youngjae]: the other number in this chat is Jaebum-hyung, right?

[wango]: yep!! slide into his dms boy

[c.youngjae]: ;;

Jaebum instantly realized the doom he was about to face.

"No, no, no, no, no!" He literally screamed at his phone, trying to do everything to prevent Youngjae from knowing.

It was probably too late.

[c.youngjae]: ?

[c.youngjae]: wait

[c.youngjae]: but

[c.youngjae]: ;;

[c.youngjae]: isnt that defsoul-hyung's number...

[c.youngjae]: ...it is

[c.youngjae]: hyung.

[c.youngjae]: ... [jaybee]: are you mad at me? [c.youngjae]: no

[c.youngjae]:  even though I did just find out you were double tricking me

[jaybee]: i never meant to make fun of you or anything

[jaybee]: about that party

[jaybee]: i knew bambam only as 'def soul'

[jaybee]: i'm sure you can also tell that he doesn't like me bc im known as that rude, popular shit called im jaebum

[jaybee]: and rapmon told me to come anyway

[jaybee]: btw his real name is namjams

[c.youngjae]: what's your point

[jaybee]: i want to have a second chance

[jaybee]: i know ive been a horrible person, hiding behind two identities just so I could talk to you

[jaybee]: please

[jaybee]: i only ever wanted to cheer you up

[c.youngjae]: ...

[c.youngjae]: i feel stupid for sending you all those messages

[c.youngjae]: no wonder you knew where I was and that I didn't have an umbrella

[c.youngjae]: i feel like you've played me and you probably did 

[c.youngjae]: but the def soul hyung I know is a caring person

[c.youngjae]: and if youre him

[c.youngjae]: then I can hope that your kindness is just as genuine

[c.youngjae]: because I think it's impossible to fake kindness like that

[c.youngjae]: let's meet up at three and talk

[jaybee]: i'll be there

[jaybee]: i won't be late.

Read at 11:07 AM ✓

His phone read 2:57 by the time he spotted Jaebum. He was standing right outside the promised cafe, scrolling through his own phone with his legs crossed. It surprised Youngjae to see that he was wearing a pair of wire-rimmed glasses and an oversized sweater, contrary to his usual attire of trendy clothes that showed off his nice build. He looked pretty hot, to be honest. Youngjae shook that thought out of his mind and approached Jaebum, acting as though he wasn't just staring at him a minute prior. "It isn't 3 yet," Youngjae said quietly, stuffing his hands into his hoodie. "I've been here for ten minutes. I just didn't want to be late," Jaebum replied with a tiny grin as if he wanted the younger's approval. Youngjae scoffed and went ahead into the building, ruining the other's plans of opening the door for him. They went up to the counter, both of them staring at the menu in a similar way. Both of their eyes twitched, cursing at Jackson mentally. "I'm glad Jinyoung decided not to come," Jaebum whispered to the other, faking a smile for the person behind the cash register. "Welcome to Cafe A, one of the first couples' cafe in this town," she smiled enthusiastically, probably a bit overwhelmed on the inside because she had two male customers coming together in her hands. Youngjae hid his face into a hand in embarrassment, and Jaebum wanted to die on the spot. "Would you like to order our monthly special 'love potions?'" she asked, pointing to the piece of paper on the counter. "No," Youngjae and Jaebum said simultaneously. Flustered because of how rude that sounded, Jaebum laughed sheepishly and shook his head. "I'll just have an iced Americano. And, Youngjae..." Youngjae squinted at the menu above them, saying, "I'll have some water." Jaebum's face abruptly switched to one of shock, nudging the younger gently with his elbow. 'Eat,' he mouthed. Youngjae grumbled, feeling like he was just scolded by his mother. "Nevermind. I'll have a melon smoothie." "Alright. that will be ₩6,500." His hand reached into his pocket to grab his wallet, but the taller Jaebum stopped him before he could go any further. Instead, he took out his own wallet and paid using a card. Youngjae squinted his eyes at the other. I bet he just wanted to show off. Stupid seniors. "Thank you. Please come to pick up your order once this starts to buzz," she said while handing over the circular device to Youngjae, who almost dropped it.To the surprise of both, she leaned forward and gestured for them to come closer. "The third floor is popular with... couples like you two," she whispered with a grin. Both boys shook their heads, trying to insist that they weren't that sort of couple. She didn't listen, only grinning happily. 'You guys are so cute!' she mouthed while making a thumbs up, leaving the two speechless as they searched for a table. "Maybe we should go to the third floor," Youngjae was heard mumbling. "But we're not a couple, unfortunately," Jaebum remarked, putting emphasis on the last word to express that he really did think it was unfortunate. "I mean, I'd be more than happy if we were, but-" "The people here are staring at us." Youngjae gestured with a subtle tilt of his chin, completely ignoring what the other had to say. It was true, though; quite a few of the other couples enjoying their food seemed to be whispering at the two. Jaebum scoffed and marched towards the staircase, Youngjae following quickly to avoid any more odd gazed from anyone there. As promised by the girl at the cash register, the third floor was filled with... ...gay. Youngjae's eyes couldn't ignore the variety(?) of couples that were there, enjoying their time together. At one table in the corner, there was someone resembling a llama sitting across from someone who appeared like a girl. He couldn't tell, that person just had long hair. At the opposite side of the room, he spotted a couple that consisted of someone narrow-eyed with bright mint hair, nodding at his partner, who had a radiant smile, while he ranted. At another table they passed by were two people who didn't stand out in particular except that they seemed to be speaking completely in Chinese. Beside their table were two rather young looking guys, the foreign-looking one teaching his partner how to say simple words in English. "I don't think there are any open tables, hyung..." Youngjae remarked with a pout after searching around the room. Jaebum nodded, thinking that they might end up having to sit outside or something. Just then, someone tapped his arm. he turned around to see two rather tall guys sitting at the table nearby, one of them looking highly emo. "Are you looking for a table? Ae can just move our stuff, there's space for you guys," the person who tapped his arm offered, his canine teeth showing as he smiled. "Oh, sure. Thank you." Once the other guys moved their belongings, Youngjae took the seat that was on the cushiony couch and Jaebum sat on the chair. "Are you guys from JYP high?" the person asked, sipping on his ice coffee. Jaebum nodded, leaning back while putting an arm over the chair in an assertive way. "We're from Pledis," he replied, making Jaebum go “Ooh.” No wonder they were wearing nice clothes and looked as though they had their hair done professionally. Although Pledis was a small school, it was a costly place to attend and its students sure did prove that. "God, I would've screamed if you guys were from SM." Almost everyone in the room quieted down when hearing that name as though it was a taboo. SM's school had the roughest teachers and classes by far, and its roughness most likely rubbed off on its students. The device Youngjae held flashed red lights out of nowhere and started buzzing, startling him. Jaebum took it from his hand and headed downstairs in order to grab their drinks. Once he was gone, the high-key emo person who hadn't said a thing leaned over to Youngjae. "Your boyfriend's hot," he said quietly. Youngjae's face flashed a bright pink. "He's not my boyfriend! I'm not dating him," he argued and pouted again. "Really? I think he likes you from the way he looks at you, though," the person sitting across said with a wiggle of his eyebrows. "What's his name?" "Im Jaebum." Someone dropped their fork in the distance as the person almost choked on his straw. "That's... him? He's Im Jaebum?" he asked, clearly as confused as Youngjae was. someone a few tables next to them whispered, “Holy shit, that was Im Jaebum?” "Yes?" Youngjae tilted his head, not understanding what all the fuss was about. "Goodness," he sighed while shaking his head. "He's a literal legend at Pledis." Youngjae's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean by that?" "How do you, his boyfriend, not know about this?" he fanned himself with his hand, accidentally hitting himself in the face. Embarrassed, he cleared his throat. "Anyway, the Pledis legend. Im Jaebum. He used to go to Pledis for his freshman year, I think. But somehow, he ended up becoming the school's first ever student to be full on expelled." Youngjae's mouth dropped when hearing this. He wasn't even sure if his best friends Jinyoung or Jackson knew about this. "One of the biggest idol companies—you know, the ones with idol groups and all that—scouted him during his freshman year, right on our campus. The story about that flew all over school and he became a living legend. Everyone wanted to his friend." "How come you didn't recognize him earlier if he's that well known?" Youngjae asked in a dazed tone, not quite able to wrap his head around all the information he just absorbed. "Are you kidding me? He used to be one of the shortest guys in the class. He had mushroom hair and wore huge glasses every day." "Okay..." Youngjae peered over to the staircase to see if was Jaebum was back or not. He wanted to hear more of the details, wishing he wouldn't be back for another five minutes. "Well, why was he expelled?" "There was this group of seniors that made fun of him a lot, and I guess he was just fed up with him," he explained with a shrug, shaking around his cup. "What did he do?" "He poisoned them." That was the point where Youngjae didn't believe the story anymore. "No, that's stupid—" "He baked them a nice batch of cookies that made them vomit the next day. They told the principal on him," the boy paused in order to snap his fingers, "and just like that, he was gone." Youngjae was speechless, only his eyes blinking as the rest of his body was frozen. He was so confused, mostly because he couldn't believe that someone who seemed genuinely kind like the 'Def Soul' person he knew would do such thing. At the staircase, he could see a glimpse of Jaebum walking up with two cups in his hands. "Are you afraid that he'll do something like that again?" the person asked. "If you are, I don't think you should be. I can tell his attitude has changed a lot since freshman year, and he's probably trying to get a fresh start." Jaebum sat back down in his seat across from the still shocked Youngjae. He waved his hand in front of him, wondering if he was even alive. "Yah, Im Jaebum!" the person smacked his arm out of nowhere. “What—ah, shit," Jaebum cursed under his breath once he realized that that person currently attended pledis, the place of his unforgettable past. "I can't believe it's actually you. hey, i'm mingyu. remember me?" Jaebum's eyes widened as though he was reminded of something unpleasant, but he played it cool and sighed. "Yes, yes, I do. What do you want?" The one sitting across from mingyu tapped his watch, indicating something about time. He nodded his head and hurriedly threw on his jacket, grabbing his things. "Sorry, I would talk more but there's something I have to do." Before he left the table, he leaned down towards Jaebum's ear and whispered softly.

“Don't break that cutie's heart, okay?”