#every time it zooms on his stupid face i just see the long lashes like good lord i see why the fanarts make him like that now

[sharliexth]

I really appreciate that peacewalker went out of its way to give big boss the most prominent eyelashes ever

[wystericwoes]

“Pretty boy”

Inumaki Toge x reader

Fluff

Warnings: slight cursing

"You just don't understand Maki!"

You dramatically entered your room, putting your belongings on the floor and tossing yourself on the bed as she rested her weapon against the wall, crossing her arms and raising a suspicious brow at you.

You stared up at your dismal ceiling. Letting out a long sigh.

"He's just so pretty."

She observed you curiously as you thrashed around your bed.

"Maybe if you finally talked to him rather than hoping he'll magically become a mind reader-"

You tossed a pillow at her which she easily caught.

"I don't want him to become a mind reader, I just want him to like me and tell me!"

"But without him knowing you like him first? Yeah, because expecting him to make the first move is always the best thing to do.”

she adjusted her glasses and tossed the pillow back to you which you roughly caught and placed back.

You leaned against the wall and pulled your legs up to yourself, resting your chin on your knees.

"You don't get it, if I confess and he doesn't like me, I lose him."

"You're not going to 'lose him' from a confession. It takes more than that to scare him away sadly. We're all stuck together after all."

"Exactly!" You sat upright.

Maki rolled her eyes as you rambled.

"He'll get sick of me, having to see my face in class every day, every mission, all the time."

"You're so dramatic."

You pulled your phone, zooming in on a picture you snuck of him during training. He was looking off, his long eyelashes and smooth locks gracing his face like a goddamn angel.

"Its not fair!"

You set your phone aside so you could slam your face into your pillows and let out a muffled scream.

"Why can someone be so damn pretty? It shouldn’t be allowed!”

You huffed as you recalled his smooth skin and sharp features. Soft hair and gentle smiles.

You put your hands on your face and rolled over to your side facing the wall on your bed.

“You’re obsessed with him.. get a grip.”

Maki rolled her eyes placing a sassy hand on her hip with an annoyed expression.

“You wouldn’t get it. You’ve never had boy problems.”

Her jaw ticked.

“Id hardly call it boy problems if it’s just you sitting in bed thinking about him.”

You threw a pillow again, which she threw back again.

You caught the pillow and pulled it into yourself, hugging it tightly.

“You don’t gotta say it like that!”

You sat upright and whined.

“I just wanna hold his face and kiss it!”

You roughly imitated the motions of what you were saying and made a dramatic kissy face.

“And he kept smiling at me all day, with those big stupid pretty eyes! It’s like he knows what he’s doing.”

“Yeah you don’t sound creepy at allll.”

She said sarcastically.

“It’s not creepy! It’s honest. It’s not like it’s my fault he’s got those stupid pretty lashes and that stupid silky hair and that stupid smooth skin!!”

“If you’re just gonna talk about Inumaki then I’m leaving.”

She turned around and began making paces out the door before you yelled at her to come back.

“Okay sorry!”

“Thank you.”

She made her way through your room and sat in your chair legs crossed facing the bed. You two sat in silence as she began pulling out her books and setting them on your desk to begin your nightly ritual of studying next to eachother. But she abruptly stopped her movements when you let out a long and hearty sigh, making her let a sigh of her own.

“Do you just want me to talk to him?”

“No! Thats 100 times worse.”

“Then get it over with yourself so he can at least reject you and you can move on already.”

“It’s different with him!”

“You’re absolutely delusional. We’re not in elementary school anymore, we communicate our issues like adults.”

You hated to admit that she was right. At this rate with your feelings, you would either drive yourself mad not knowing If he felt the same or if he didn’t. But Is it really better to be rejected than to never know at all? You silently weighed your options.

Maki opened a pencil case and pulled out a ballpoint pen, clicking the end as she started to write. The rhythmic sounds of it began to lull you into a daydream as you fantasized about him again.

Closing your eyes and succumbing to your own fantasies maki took it upon herself to take action. Because as much as she valued you as a friend, if she had to what about your fanatical little crush one more time- she’d lose it.

A few minutes had passed as you remained unmoving.

“Y/n?”

She whispered.

Asleep.

She chuckled to herself as she carefully grabbed your phone Off the bed typed in your passcode, opening up recent messages.

>Toge Inumaki 🩵

>Nobara Kugisaki

>Gojo-Sensei

She cringed to herself as she clicked on Inumakis name and the heart.

Y/n: Hey Inumaki, sorry to bother you. Are you free to hang out soon?

Maki set down the phone content with her text. Not expecting the phone to ding seconds later.

Inumaki: Hang out?

Y/n: Yeah, is that okay?”

Inumaki: ofc it’s okay lol I just don’t know you wanted to hang out with me

Y/n: well ofc! I really like being with you.

She watched as the three dots popped up, anticipating his response.

Inumaki: As long as you’re sure you wanna. Just us?

Maki cringed as her fingers hit the keypad and typed the response.

Y/n: Yeah. I wanna be alone with you :) If you’re okay with that.

Maki looked up from the screen to check that you were still asleep, confident you were since you were even drooling a little- she went back to work.

Inumaki: sounds good, what about the movies tonight?

Tonight?? Maki bit her nail as she looked back from the phone to you back to the phone.

Y/n: sounds great! Text me the deets and I’ll be there.

She got up and tapped your shoulder until you stirred awake.

“Hey! Wake up.”

You pushed her hand away as your eyes slowly rose. Maki shoved your phone in your face.

“I got you a date.”

[papers4me]

Fruits Basket Manga Review , ch 107- 108

se03, ep 6 is weakest ep in se03 despite it being tohru’s long waited focus & having the biggest plot keys & character impactful moments & one of the best pining hug scenes in anime history “ thro the laundry sheets at sunset”. Reading the chapter that starts this ep in the manga made me feel so happy & so angry.. I lament all the subtle yet effective changes & the powerful character-influenced changes that the anime ditched for cheap drama or unexplained wide shot.

-The Art of Subtlety: Power Resides in Words:

In se03, ep 6 when tohru tells kyo that Isuzu will be staying at Kazuma’s, kyo responds that” then Master won’t feel lonely”. Meaning after his imprisonment. Huge gut wrenching moment since kyo doesnt know that tohru knows abt his imprisonment.

The anime chooses to displayed it in their mandatory style of “ kyoru-moment inside shigure house : which is widen the shot so much to include yuki & shigure & flatten the emotional impact to include other characters reaction that has nothing to do with the moment itself... They never consider zooming into the kyo-tohru reactions to their words, then widen the moment o include yuki, shigure, the tv, the woods, kyoko’s grave or the moon if they want to.. Complete lack of understanding of the emotional impact. This isn’t abt romantic lovey dovey moment. This is abt character development. The biggest loser i this design is : Tohru’s emotions. God, I hate how bland she is in the anime in regards to situations that affect HER.

Also, the anime chooses to squeeze in another moment here, which is kyo’s reaction to tohru’s grave visit & still lacks in showing the emotional depth even here & opted for what? yup! you guessed it. Widen the shot to include yuki & shigure. At this point I wonder why kyo & tohru didnt adopt yuki & shigure & took them with them in their house by the end of the story. To complete the tradition of these two poor guys witnessing everything..-_-’. Jokes aside, This doesn't just affect kyo-tohru. But also reflects badly at shigure & yuki. They become an unwanted third-wheels without proper plot or character driven reason. In good story-telling “ forced-third wheeling has a purpose!!”, such as to transfusion to the 3rd character moment or to be later used for the 3rd character driving emotional moment. not just a reminder that characters X & Y live here & therefore see this & that.. This is an example of missing the impactful design of the moment. I dont even understand how can someone miss such basic story-telling devices... 

Lets look at only 3 panels from the manga:

See how in the above panels in the focus is on tohru’s emotions. This is Tohru’s focus why not show her emotions instead of her stupid wide eyed, new eye lashes face & zooming out on tohru to include yuki for no reason!!!!! The anime is capable of focusing on characters pain, we saw that wioth yuki dozens of times. The anime is capable of focusing on showing facial emotions, we saw this with kyo in all his focused eps! Why can’t they give tohru half of that.. Just look, she looks like spacing out thinking of what to cook~ lala~ gotta feed the boys.!! zoom out on her & her purpose on the story~~~~~

-The power of words is unbelievable~~

Kyo’s little sentence of being happy Isuzu will stay with kazuma, destroyed tohru. Look how the manga makes tohru continues to think abt it. You might wonder why will the author do this? The author is building towards tohru realizing her romantic love & uncovering her traumatic attachment to her mom. Reminds you of sth? the 6 or 7 eps that se02 dedicated to yuki where every sentence established his journey towards facing his emotions. In se02, yuki thought abt the words of many characters until he reached his conclusion. The anime refused to give tohru ONE sentence.

-Powerful Character-Influenced Moments:

The manga made rohru leave screaming abt wanting the curse to break before spring. Why? because (a) tohru must be giving time to think abt HERSELF, not the cat or the curse, so tohru wander around thinking abt her mom, we saw that in the anime.  the the moment of shigure tells tohru abt the zodiacs ugly spirit & delight at seeing the cat suffers happens right before kyo finds crying tohru. Why? because (a) it was established that kyo will visit kazuma, so no weird out of no where lover finds lover in the streets for loving support moment, (b) to make kyo’s emotional support to tohru reasonable. In the anime, he saw her crying & comforted her assuming she cried cuz of the grave visit or sth, it was never hinted at anything, cuz kyo never gets any inner thoughts until it is his dramatic moments, but here he comforts her cuz he thinks she’s upset abt Isuzu, why oh why you write this thing out??????????????????????????????????

Not enough eps? but you gave motoko half an ep?!!! Why write off your main protagonist? I dont get it??? why intentional make tohru one-denominational character. Either yuki’s momma or a girl in love.... Is that what women are for the anime? a caring loving mothers & good lovers?

-Shigure’s words are to tohru are so watered down in the anime. Here he connects everything to the major plot of “ zodiacs turing into cute animals ” premise of the story, this is not sth cute as the early story made it out yo be. I love this!!!! why the anime cut it! Tohru screams when shigure brings an unavoidable question. Ask yuki & the the others whom tohru loves & believes they’re the kindest. Ask them of they KNOW kyo will be locked & are relieved! so cruel & shocking thing to thin abnt that shatters tohru’s world! shigure knows tohri will NEVER ask! so true to his character! epic moment! My best shigure-tohri moment! both of them NOT hiding anything & both in theit lowest moment!!  INGENUOUS WRITING!!! so plot-worthy!!! WHY CUT IT!!!

Kyo finds tohru cuz he saw her sad! bringing the realistic aspect of story-telling & ditching the dunb superficial coincidence.

Look at how tohru uncovers her trauma little by little:

parallel between loosing her mom & loosing kyo. By showing this, the readers/ viwer will begin to be prepared to question tohru’s “ I cant love mom more than kyo”. The following chapters will for sure dive into this deeper, writing tohru as more understandably, more flawed., more real. Nothing like a the fixer for grown men, nothing like an angelic mom, nothing like the princess saved by the prince’s love. Basically, nothing like her shallow anime self.

Side Notes:

I was right abt the anime wanting to close Isuzu & Haru’s arc in ep 5, cuz in this chapter we have a lil scene that is the follow up with their plotline. Haru wanting to thank Kureno & asing Isuzu to never risk herself. It’s the little things that add depth to characters.. but I get it Haru in se03 can no longer support yuki cuz yuki have Kakeru, so his plotline is reduced to isuzu’s lover & that was closed in ep 5. Isuzu still had few things to add to the plot in ep 6 which is be tohru’s unfiltered deep talk partner. 

The sad reality of the anime focusing on wide shots lost us yet another good emotional impact besides kyo-tohru moments. This time, we lost kazuma’s reaction to isuzu being held in cat’s room & haru/yuki’s reaction to kazuma’s sadness.. The anime gives us wide shot to include all the room. so,Screw haru & yuki’s reaction???.. they dont care abt the cat? is that it? nope, cuz this reasoning requires emotional depth of hate & disgust. The anime just loves wide shots “ so artistic~” but the real reason, the anime is flying in bullet speed in this ep to include as much as it can to save place for the “ new added moment of kyoru’s united shock” & still include the intro & outro... yep, ep6 is the weakest ep in design...

More on ep 6 in the following chapters, I guess. I’ll stop here this time. I’m so mad.. I’ll calm down & read the flowing two chapters later to articylate proper thoughts.

 I hate hate how tohru was done so dirty! I’m loving everything abt her so far in the manga, but when I remember her in the anime! ugh! I still love kyo & yuki’s anime stories. But tohru, nope. I stopped loving her in se02 once the beach arc is over & she became a full mother to yuki & nothing more. I adore her character & she’s so endearing, but My God, she’s so bland in the anime, just the lightest version of her manga self... so light, it’s a shame she’s a protagonist...

I really wonder how manga readers feel abt the lack of tohru’s focus & lost emotional depth? is tohru even popular in the manga days? I know kyo is popular & i know lots adore yuli’s growth. but what abt tohru? I’m curious how manga readers felt watching her butchered arc in se03?

[mingoyeob-archive]

stuck on you | teaser

pairing: knj x reader

i had a crush on my math ta in freshman year of uni and i used to put little stickers on my hw cause i thought it would get his attention and i thought this would be a great fluffy nerd! namjoon fic

it’s still a wip but it’s almost finished so if you like the direction its going pls lmk ! also this has not been proofread :p

“ms. y/n…” a hand waving in front of your face had you snapping out of your internal monologue. eyes following hands and long digits up to the person they were attached to and meeting charming brown eyes that lay behind a circular pair of glasses. namjoon

“…your homework please?”

“right…right! my homework! i have it right here!” the nervous laughter that came from your mouth was a reflex at this point. you could never be cool and collected around him. not now that you had this stupid school girl crush. you cheered in your head when your hand finally grasped on to the crumpled pieces of paper that lay at the bottom of your bag, pulling them out and roughly shoving them in his direction. “uh- here you go mr. kim…”

“ah, ms. y/n, how many times do i have to tell you-“ he flashed you a small smile, dimples popping on the apples of his cheeks. those stupid dimples will be the death of me. ”you can just call me namjoon.”

“but that’s hardly fair, you call me ms. y/n.”

he gave a small hum of amusement and shook his head, messy blonde hair sweeping over his forehead and rocking on the hells of his feet. “well that’s because i refer to all my students that way and i can’t go giving you special treatment.” and he was right, you were just a student to him. before you could respond he waved your homework in the air in acknowledgement “but i’ll have this back to you by next week!”

and with that, he was off. climbing the stairs up to the row behind you, collecting the rest of everyone’s homework. you couldn’t help but sigh in defeat. another failed attempt in getting him to see you as something more than a knucklehead who couldn’t handle math. but it’s not like you didn’t try to get him to see you as something more - you did a lot of things to try and catch his eye, but they all just ended up failing or just making him chuckle as if you were some little kid jumping around trying to impress their teacher. your most recent attempt (the ones your friends had taken up teasing you about) consisted of stamping cute little stickers that reminded you of namjoon on the corners of your homework.

and it had already been half a semester of this routine but so far you weren’t getting any results. everytime you would hand in your homework, eyes gazing expectedly up at him over your lashes and waiting for his reaction, you would be greeted by his usual smile that he gave to the rest of your class. sometimes you would catch his eyes fleet down to the paper and your heart would stir with hope, only for him to thank you before moving on to collect someone else’s. and every time you would just sigh and pout as if someone had stolen your favorite toy. your friends found it hilarious - you not so much.

“y/n i don’t think the stickers are working.” sana, one of your closest friends at uni, couldn’t stop herself from pushing your buttons as you two walked out of the class. it only served to damper your mood even further.

“well how do we know for sure. he could simply just lack the proper vocabulary required to describe how awesome my stickers are.” you knew you sounded ridiculous but you couldn’t have her thinking she was right. sana just stared at you blankly waiting for you to say sike but you just continued to avoid her gaze in effort to escape her ridicule as you continued your trek across campus to your dorms.

“….yeah i’m sure that’s what it is.” the laugh that followed her words didn’t exactly convince you that she believed your story.

“i don’t see you coming up with any ideas sana.” the syllables behind her name were stretched out as you shook your head at her mockingly. “plus why should i listen to you? you still haven’t made a move on taehyung and he’s been helping you with bio all semester.”

“hey! that is completely unrelated and we are talking about you right now!”

her effort to avoid the subject of taehyung was comical. of course she would try to stop you from bringing him up, she was still in denial about her crush on the man. you didn’t know why, it was completely obvious - to everyone but taehyung of course. he was just as oblivious as her.

“honestly y/n, you need to either talk to namjoon or get a job!” she seemed be to fed up with you now, her pace quickening as she shouted over her shoulder. “because i’m not giving you anymore money for those stupid stickers!”

you didn’t have time to send her a snarky reply before she zoomed ahead of you, too far to hear you mumbling under your breath. “my stickers are not stupid.”

[bubbashawn]

Vanity Fair

author: I couldn’t help myself. If that video didn’t mess with your head, I’m not sure what will. Plus I wanted to give y’all the fluffiest fic so here’s this cutie. Hope you like it.

synopsis: Shawn meets the girl of his dreams and can’t keep his eyes off of you and the fans have it all on video

warnings: it’s just 2.6k of pure fluff. No fights and there might be one or two baby swears here and there. There’s mentions of anxiety and y/n is famous. Enjoy <3

Shawn shouldn’t be staring at you.

Andrew would be on his back later for not taking advantage of the carpet. Smile at the paps and share a laugh with a couple of interviewers. There was nothing to it. But he couldn’t stop staring.

He knew who you were, hell he had stalked your Instagram on more than one occasion. He knew you’d be here too. You’d taken Hollywood by surprise popping up out of nowhere. So, of course you were at the Vanity Fair Oscar party. Everyone was.

He wished his stylist, Tiffany, had taken a risk that evening when choosing his suit so he could walk up to your dazzling form and look good standing near you.

He stayed where he was and just glanced back at you, that was good enough.

You were a nervous wreck but you hid it well. Here you were with names you grew up with when not even 6 months ago you were at your dorm room watching them on your tv. Now a college dropout and walking on the red carpet for an Oscar party, everything felt surreal.

You looked the part in your champagne colored silk dress. Your skin was airbrushed hiding every imperfection except that aggravating mole below the arch of your right eyebrow. You looked perfect but that didn’t mean you felt it. Your nerves had been pushed to the max and you had lashed out more than you’d ever like to admit. You weren’t ready for this lifestyle, you hadn’t grown up with eyes on you, you weren’t even popular in High School.

Everything had been a blur since you stepped out of your car, the flashes and yelling made you wince already feeling a headache. You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know how to handle any of this.

You were paying so close attention to your heel-clad feet you didn’t notice the tall singer watching you several feet ahead. And though you didn’t, the fans did. Shawn suspected to see about 10 different videos of his head turning back to glance at your figure again and again surface by morning.

One interviewer, a woman from ENews asking about his love life, had to nudge him so he’d answer her question. He didn’t know the answer.

“So,” the interviewer interrupted his thoughts, “you’ve been spotted around Toronto recently with a girl on your arm. Want to tell us about that?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Hailey Baldwin and you, any comments?”

“We’re going to attend the Met Gala together in May, so just building up our friendship.”

“And that’s all it is?” The interviewer was smiling and speaking with a coy tone, “just a friendship?”

“Yes,” he hated this topic, “thank you.”

He walked away before the lady could open her mouth. He was being rude but Shawn didn’t care. He didn’t want to talk to anyone except maybe you. That wouldn’t happen, he was sure, but that’s all he wanted.

You swore to yourself as you lightly stumbled away from your own first interview and tried to quickly yet confidently escape into the party. Barely lasting 2 minutes in the eyes of the public before your breath was trembling like your rapid heartbeat. You couldn’t handle even sending a half-ass smile to one photographer. You wanted to go home and curl into your couch with popcorn and caramel dip. You wanted to leave. You saw your manager waving you along towards a lady with a microphone and you were out of luck. You couldn’t walk away, you just had to get through this interview and then you could be done.

That’s what you told yourself.

Shawn was glad to be watching you closely in that moment. He saw the terror grace your soft features as the ENews lady beckoned her along, dying for a word in with the rising star. He knew he’d make a fool of himself but he was fine with that, as long as you were happy to escape with him.

He pushed towards you. His hand lightly brushing your wrist to pull your eyes to his for the first time that night. Shawn couldn’t help the smile that pressed into his cheeks.

“Hey,” you stood shell shocked, “I’m Shawn.”

His voice came out choked and he cursed himself. Finally having your attention and he couldn’t even speak properly.

Shawn’s voice came out like honey and you melted under his hazel eyes. He was by far the most handsome man to ever grace your life with his presence. Zooming in on your phone screen hadn’t given his dimple and cheek scar the justice it deserved. He was stunning.

“H-hi, um I’m-”

“Y/N. I know.”

Shawn cringed at the way he cut you off and basically expressed his obsession right to your face. He was so stupid for thinking he could ever carry a conversation with you.

You gasped so loud it was almost embarrassing but it didn’t matter because he knew you. Shawn Mendes knew you. You could feel your heart pound and blood pulsing through your neck straight to your burning cheeks. You were sure your cheeks were bright red and you dropped your head to hide them.

He watched the tendrils of hair cover your flushed cheeks. He had made you blush and his grin widened with pride. Maybe this wasn’t going so bad.

“I saw you being dragged towards your next interview and had to cut in.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, trust me you don’t want to go to that interview.”

“Can’t get much worse…”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, um,” you were crumbling into yourself. Of course you were silly enough to let it slip to the Shawn Mendes that you were a mess. You didn’t want to make a fool of yourself, “it’s nothing.”

You were shying away from him and he wasn’t sure how to pull you back into reality with him. He didn’t know when he messed up but he wanted you to tell him everything.

“Wait,” his hand was hovering over your waist, letting you choose whether or not to indulge his impending question, “tell me what’s going on, eh?”

You cursed his Canadian ways. Shawn was so polite and wanted you to rely on him. You wanted to too, so bad especially with the way he kept his eyes on you.

“I’m not good at this, I don’t know what I’m doing and it’s all just overwhelming. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said anything. God, sorry you have to deal with this.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” he smiled when your hand began to fidget with the lapel of his jacket, “I’m glad I’m here. With you.”

He couldn’t believe this was happening. His hand had finally rested on your exposed waist once your hands took purchase against his chest. You had the most genuine smile adorning your face, probably the happiest one he’d seen since you arrived minutes ago. He leaned down closer cupping your cheek in his palm keeping your eyes away from the intruding cameras.

“It’s just you and me, yeah?” He smiled softly, “nothing to worry about.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll stick by your side as long as you need me, eh?”

You wanted him by your side forever.

He wanted to be by your side for as long as you’d let him be.

“Alright Y/N, your move.”

His eyes were beckoning you into his warm embrace so you did just that. Hands curling around the small of his back. Shawn quickly latched his own around your shoulders, his bicep blocking your face from view like his hand once did.

“Please just stay with me for the rest of the night?”

You were shy in contrast to your bold move of embracing him. He didn’t seem to mind the change in your demeanor.

“I’m right here, baby, right here,” he tensed regretting his pet name, he started pulling away, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said th-”

You just hung to him tighter your anxiety setting in as he tried to separate his warm body from your shaking one.

“Stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Shawn was broken away from his dazed state when his manager, Andrew, tapped his shoulder.

“Hey man, let's get you two inside, yeah?”

Andrew didn’t ask questions and Shawn had never been more thankful for the older man. His head dropped from above yours so his lips could graze your cartilage piercing.

“Baby, I’m gonna bring you inside, okay?” He didn’t dare move from your grasp until your head nodded against his clavicle, “alright, honey I’m right here.”

Shawn and you stopped to pose together and ignored the shouts of rumors about your relationship with the man beside you. You continued the steady crawl along the carpet until Shawn was opening the door for you and finally getting you out of the spotlight.

He didn’t think twice before latching onto your frame.

“Honey, you did so well.”

“I could not have done that without you.”

“I wasn’t gonna let you either way.”

Shawn had stuck to his word not once leaving your side throughout the entire party. He took you with him to grab a drink and held your back tightly to his chest as he conversed with all the A-listers. All eyes were on the two of you and you didn’t mind for once.

“Baby, you alright?” He had leaned down and whispered at some point amidst the chatter.

“Mmhmm.”

“Okay. Just a little longer, yeah?”

He was right. Not even an hour later Shawn was quickly pulling you out of the party and towards the line of cars. Paps had you surrounded but your head just stayed pressed between his shoulder blades until he was slipping into the car after you.

“Hey, you okay?” He had asked that a lot throughout the night, “honey?”

You were basically half asleep on his shoulders and it wasn’t surprising. Your anxiety had always made you sleepy and Shawn’s welcoming scent didn’t hurt. You just wanted to cuddle into his chest. His arms would wrap around you and you would feel safe just like he had made you feel on the carpet.

“Do you want me to take you back to your apartment?” He didn’t want to.

“Can I stay with you?”

His heart fucking leaped out of his chest and a bright smile bloomed on his lips. He was so happy. It wasn’t that you just needed someone. Maybe you needed him.

“Yeah,” he glanced up towards Jake, his security guard, “can you get us back to the hotel?”

“For sure and I’ll be sure to take it slow, don’t want to startle her.”

“Thanks, man.”

Jake was true to his word, not letting the car hit any bumps that might jostle your position in Shawn’s arms. The normally 3 minute drive from the Wallis Annenberg Center to the hotel took 5, but Shawn didn’t mind. Soon enough the car slowed to a stop and he had to begrudgingly move you out of his arms to stand up in the parking garage.

“Baby,” you groaned as the bright lights washed over the car, “I know, I know. C’mon you can curl up once we’re upstairs, yeah?”

Shawn guided you along and ignored the looks as he pressed the up button by the elevator. You two were a sight to see. Your formal wear sticking out like a sore thumb among the city's tourists.

He hurried you into the mirror-walled elevator and held you to his chest as the contraption travelled up all 12 stories of the Waldorf Astoria: Beverly Hills hotel. He whispered sweet nothings that left you giggling as you went to his front door. Shawn swiped his keycard before letting you into the suite.

“Y/N? Honey? Can I get you anything? Water or maybe some tea?” You just shook your head, too absorbed in the stunning view of Los Angeles.

Shawn couldn’t believe he had only met you hours earlier seeing that he was completely wrapped around your dainty finger. He just admired you from a distance. Taking in the bareback silk dress that had caught his eye the moment your heel touched the ground at that party. He pushed himself off the wall he had leaned against before shuffling his shoeless feet towards you. His hands found your waist and you were pressed to his chest again. His nose dipped into your hair and lips kissed behind your ear next to your cartilage piercing, something you figured he liked based on the attention it received throughout the evening.

“Are you still tired?” He knew you were but wanted to let you have control to ease your anxiety all the more.

“Yeah.”

“C’mon then, let’s get some sleep.”

Shawn guided you down the hall and through the bedroom heading toward the ajar door to the bathroom suite. You were confused and let out a squeal as he lifted you but let him place you gently on the counter. He shuffled through his ziploc bag with toiletries until he pulled out a face wash with a proud smile. Shawn pumped the cleanser onto his hands before lightly scrubbing the products from your face. He didn’t stop until he was satisfied every piece of dirt was wiped from your face as he used a wet washcloth.

You looked so pretty like this.

He held your face in his hands and lightly kissed that stupid mole below your brow. He just held you to his lips until his hands took purchase in your hair. Shawn watched the elegant hairstyle be pulled apart as he removed each bobby-pin.

You looked gorgeous like this.

He lifted you again until your feet were on the tile between his own. He guided you to sit on the bed murmuring something about staying awake a little longer but you weren’t paying attention. Your eyes were practically glazed over with happiness. The way Shawn took care of you was unlike anything else.

He quickly rifled through his suitcase cursing his messy tendencies until he came across a worn thrifted Queen shirt. He looked back to see you staring at him with a look of pure adoration and he wondered how your eyes would shift if they held love instead. Shawn broke his line of thought and placed the shirt in your hand.

“Honey, I’m going to change in the bathroom while you change here, alright?”

You nodded through your yawn.

The boy returned to the bedroom, not before knocking to check you were clothed, and stepped up to the bed. He laid out on the comforter before making grabby hands at your figure staring down at him.

“C’mere baby,” he folded you into his arms, “is this okay?”

“Yeah, thank you.”

“Do you, um do you need anything else?”

Your head shook against his chest and you moved closer letting your nose and lips brush his neck.

“You’ll tell me if you need something, yeah?” He barely whispered against your skin.

“Bubba, everything is perfect.”

He smiled at the pet name and squeezed your hip. Happiness was basically emitting in waves from his body.

“There is one thing…”

He almost missed the mumble against his neck.

“Baby?”

“Wake up with me?”

“Hey,” Shawn kissed your temple, “I’d love nothing more.”

Your face shifted and he nearly whimpered when your lips pulled away from his neck, missing your warmth. He watched you quietly, waiting patiently.

His lips were softer against your own than you had expected. Shawn had his lips everywhere all night but nothing prepared you for the feeling of yourself pressed to him. He was shocked and almost let you pull away before crashing his lips to yours in a blistering kiss. Your eyes locked with his until he pulled you back into his neck.

“Bubba?”

“Mmm.” He hummed with closed eyes and a bright smile.

“Your move.”

permanent tag list: @wholesomemendes @fallinallincurls @ashwarren32 @mendesficsxbombay @haute-shawn @turtoix @prncsnee @http-isabela

[hyucksong]

thing.| na jaemin

summary:  “Hey -- you know that wasn’t him, right? It wasn’t our Jaemin.” Haechan lowly muttered, his snarky attitude long gone. Your fingers subconsciously rubbed the peridot gemstone on your finger as you averted your eyes. “Yeah. I know.”

genre: angst, resident evil inspired

word count: 1.1k

warnings: resident evil inspired!, sad, mentioning of killing, guns, death

an: i’ve been watching resident evil for the past week and i think im in love with leon kennedy :/

-

The silence was heavy in the rumbling car. No one dared to speak, no one dared to look at each other -- no one dared to breathe. The jostling of the weapons in the trunk and the motor of the car filled the air. 

But, despite the mouths that were shut tight and the looming darkness that hung over every heart, they all had come to one unspoken agreement.

That thing was not Jaemin. 

Your leg bounced up and down in the cramped space, gaze looking out into the distance from the back seat window. You focused on everything -- anything -- you could to keep your mind away from what it really wanted to think about. The trees were taller and healthier than you remember them being a few years ago, and the grass you zoomed past was tall and a dark, lush green. A small smile greeted your tense face as a small white and black-spotted rabbit hopped in the opposite direction the car was going, cheeks stuffed full.

You hoped it was full of healthy food, food that wasn’t contaminated. Because if the food weren’t, it would turn into --

Tears began to well up in your eyes. You didn’t want to think about it. About him, the love of your life. 

Na Jaemin was no perfect person -- but he was the perfect person for you. There was something about him that shined so brightly, it was impossible to not love him. It may have been his pearly straight-teethed smile, his overbearing style of affection, or his long, dark lashes that shielded his mesmerizing onyx eyes. Whatever it was -- it made you fall for him.

And him, for you.

You remember his smile being so dazzling that it would melt your heart every time you saw it; it would cause your ears to go red and face to burn. Even after the outbreak. Even with the undead crawling around the streets and killing hundreds -- he still smiled, and it still held the same effect on you. It gave everyone some level of comfort in the dingy and falling-apart apartment. 

So when the zombies broke through the barriers and invaded your shared home, and Jaemin had been snatched into the horde as you all ran away, it made sense that the group wasn’t the same anymore. There was no bright angel to lighten the load of despair. You convinced yourself that you would never see him again, and that if you did you’d have to put a bullet through his head.

So why didn’t you when his rotten hand clasped onto your pant leg? Why didn’t you put him out of his misery when you saw his familiar eyes clouded over in white? Why didn’t you? Your gun was raised and pointed at him, but it was shaking. You didn’t want to. You couldn’t. How were you supposed --

And two deafening shots were heard. They both whizzed past your ear, hitting the hand that clutched your clothing and the forehead of the one you loved for so long. Jeno immediately grabbed your arm and took off sprinting towards the car, where the rest were shooting out of the windows to keep the undead at bay.

You let him drag you, your feet tripping over the terrain and yourself as you watched what blood was left in Jaemin’s decaying body spill out onto the dirt, his hands twitching, before eventually he ceased all movement. His eyes were looking in your direction but you knew he didn’t see you. 

Jeno had thrown you into the backseat and jumped into the driver’s seat, almost breaking the gas pedal. He yelled at you, screaming about your stupidity and hesitation. You didn’t hear him. The bullets were still ringing in your ear; the sight of Jaemin’s unhinged jaw was still burned into your memory, and you saw it every time your closed your eyes. 

He only stopped his tirade when Renjun softly placed a hand on his forearm, and slowly shook his head. Then, all was silent. Chenle and Jisung occupied the very back seats, both falling asleep, Renjun was looking at the map sprawled out on the dashboard, deciding which routes to take, and Jeno was still tense at the driver’s seat, fingers anxiously tapping an unknown rhythm on the steering wheel. Haechan’s gaze burned into you, you could feel it. But you also knew your eyes were teary, and you didn’t want to worry him, or anyone for that matter. 

“Hey -- you know that wasn’t him, right? It wasn’t our Jaemin.” Haechan lowly muttered, his snarky attitude long gone. Your fingers subconsciously rubbed the peridot gemstone on your finger as you averted your eyes. “Yeah. I know.” But did you? There was a part of you that knew it was technically Jaemin. Even with the rotten flesh and dislocated jaw, you could still see the place where his dazzling smile should have been. You still see the place where you first kissed him (his left cheekbone), you could still see the scar on his right bicep when he had ran into a concrete wall, chasing after you.

If that thing wasn’t Jaemin, then why did it have the ring you gave him still on it’s bony finger? Why was it wearing Jaemin’s favorite flannel? If that thing wasn’t Jaemin, then why couldn’t you put a goddamn bullet in its head? 

It was technically Jaemin. But there was no soul. There was no golden heart for it to be Jaemin -- there was no warmth to cuddle next to. Yes -- it was Jaemin. But it wasn’t him. 

At least, that’s what you told yourself. No one spoke after that, only a few worried glances were thrown your way. But if any of you wanted to stay alive -- to avenge Jaemin or not -- there was no time to worry about what had already happened. The only focus could be taking down the sick company in charge of the outbreak, making a vaccine, and living for the future. 

Still, everyone wished that the gas in the car would never run out. They could go as far as they could -- far away from the sight they had just seen. Perhaps, if the fuel never ran out, they could all survive. They could all live. They could all meet at the burger joint and eat and laugh like they used to. 

But there was no point in wishing for that: something so unreachable now. Jaemin was dead. All you had to do was keep living as long as you could -- for him and for your dim future without his breathtaking smile. 

[timextoxhajima]

HOSTIS, Chapter XIV: Errat, Mistake

Previous Chapter (XIII: Inferno)

Member: Lee Hyunjae (tbz)

Genre (by chapter): drama, comedy

Category: Short Novel/Long Series

“you meet a pair of eyes that you can’t remember the last time you looked at without feeling like love was the only thing you knew”

birds chirping. 

the sun that’s squeezing through your lids with the same amount of effort you’d need to squeeze a lime. 

the warmth of a blanket. 

the scent of a room that you’ve been in before... strangely smells a little like the hospital.

more birds chirping.

the blackness in your eyes behind your lids starts to brighten up, facial nerves struggling to pry open the windows to your soul and the ache in your eyes tells you that you were still tired. 

there was a washroom just straight over the horizon of your sight, and the neurons in your head begin to create little bridges to link the familiar picture in your head. 

it takes you awhile, but your eyes expand to the size of grapes when the object under your neck shifts, and you realise your face was literally stuck onto someone’s ches--

never in your life did sweat break out on your forehead so quickly, not even when you were doing experiments in school or even meeting new patients. 

the sudden stirring and aggressive shifting on the bed wakes him up, and you land on your butt when you roll off the bed, the blanket wrapped around your body like a cocoon. 

your face was a tad damp from the bodily contact it’s been in with; the shape of your cheek glaringly printed in pink on his left pectoral muscle.

your hand flies to your face and your brain struggles to piece the thoughts into words. 

“oh my god--”

hyunjae rolls over to the side of the bed you fell off from, and he looks down at you with sleepy eyes and messy hair with one arm dangling off the side of the bed. 

his bed.

“was it so necessary for you to take my blanket along with you when you fell into the depths of hell?”

the molars in your mouth grind against each other, putting your nerves on an edge from the friction. the warmth the blanket was providing you tells you that there was nothing between the material and your skin besides your lingerie, urging you to hold the blanket around yourself and stand up. 

“i’d return it but i’ve got no fucking clue where my clothes are!”

his lids close again, a small smile of resignation lighting up his face for a split second. 

“you say that as if there’s an inch of your body that i haven’t seen.”

a yawn.

“or touched.”

with one arm holding the blanket to your chest, you pull a pillow off from the head of his bed and slam it down on him, kicking the space of the mattress that his arm was dangling against. 

he groans in frustration, burying his face into the space between his bicep and forearm, receiving every pillow hit like it was a tap on the shoulder.

“lee hyunjae, where are my clothes?” 

the pillow gets recklessly thrown onto his back, the muscles on his lower back disappearing under it.

“if it’s not in this room then it’s somewhere in the kitchen inside laundry machine, but i do believe only your top is unavailable. your pants should still be in the study.”

frustrated grunts vibrate throughout your body as you walk off in search of your pants. 

the memory sinks in, and you remember how spent you were just by having him inside you for more than half an hour the previous night. everything was such a blur because self-restraint and discipline is an art most humans have yet to master.

you did, but at the expense of your own energy.

the blouse you wore the day before, the one where he was so violent with the beloved ribbon around the neck rim but didn’t break a thread, was soaked and smelt like his detergent in the laundry machine. 

the light pouring in from the backdoor glistens off the wetness of the material as you angrily wring it, hurling it back into the machine.

the warmth of the house and the morning light was heating your skin, the reflection off the back door exhibiting the version of you that looked like a whore you don’t even recognise.

here you were, strutting around in his house, with pants you wore the previous day and just a bra. 

it was a natural instinct to head for your phone which was in your briefcase, and it was sitting on the sofa nearest to that stupid body-length mirror. 

you sneer at the mirror, at your own reflection when you walk past it, and your phone lights up with only one message from your mother. 

“wha-- can you please stop walking around in my house without a shirt and a horrible breath? you didn’t even bother to shower? unsightly.”

hyunjae comes down the stairs with wet hair, a blue dress shirt and black pants as his fingers were fiddling with his tie. the fresh scent of soap starts to waft through the air towards you with every step he takes, and yet your half naked reflection was still silently mocking you in that godforsaken mirror right next to you.

“who are you even calling? there’s no one back at your place and it’s not like you’re going home without a top,” he stops right before you and pushes your phone off your line of attention. “there’s a disposable toothbrush near the sink in the master toilet and i’ll see if i have any clothes that are... tight on me.”

show-off.

“and do whatever you need in the washroom best to your ability. i might not be able to fit into whatever i’m lending you but i sure as hell don’t want you dirtying it.”

motherfuc--

“now, get out of my face. you’ve been to my washroom how many times now? do you need a tour or a map? do you need me to get between your legs and--”

“no--” your palms fly up to your ears and you wisp past him, heading for the stairs and doing just as he says before he says anything else that could potentially ruin your morning even more. 

the smell of him was so overwhelming in the shower. the shampoo and the body gel that mixed in the molecules and particles in the air was terrible nauseating, yet brought you immense warmth, even if it plainly physical for a moment. 

the lukewarm water runs over your eyes, droplets of it wetting the stray hairs at behind your neck while the rest of your hair was tied up into a bun. 

yet the only thing you saw when your eyes was shut was him cooking for you. 

the way his shirt stuck to his back with sweat.

the way his hair clung to his forehead with immense focus not to under-cook a piece of bacon.

the way his pelvic bone vanishes under the cotton and leather of his belt and pants.

the feeling of your cheek pressed into the left side of his torso.

your eyes open and the tap gets turned off. 

the dress shirt he offers you was so large that the base of it spanned to your thighs, almost your knees. 

now you don’t just smell like him, you were wearing his clothes.

just what the fuck is happening?

his hair was combed and he looked ready to leave any minute when you return to the living room, shirt looking like pajamas on you over your jeans. 

“i look like i’m going to sleep.”

hyunjae leans forward and grabs your arm over the material of the sleeve, pulling you in front of him as you stood between his knees. he was resting on the back of the sofa, so his eyes were easily lined with your collarbone where his little marks incited a little smile from him. 

“don’t get too excited, i’m going to cover them up.”

he looks up at your face through his lashes, one of his brows perked on his brow bone when his fingers run down your arm. the contact shoves you out of your comfort zone, which was difficult to understand, but he grits his teeth and holds your wrist where the end of the sleeve was left hanging open.

“will you stop moving--”

he sucks on the teeth on his upper row, releasing a ‘tsk’ sound as he did it. the sleeve starts to fold and pulls on the folded layers to straighten them out. 

the other sleeve receives the same treatment, and the lack of rampant hammering in your chest starts to alarm you. the focus he was offering his sleeves on you was so gentle, so undivided, you wonder for a moment if this is how his patients felt, if this was what it felt like to be taken care of.

taken care of by lee hyunjae.

the thoughts flying about in your head drowned your hold on reality so much that you don’t realise he’s done with your sleeves, and he yanks you forward by the rim of your pants instead of the belt hoops. 

but that triggers your heart to start jumping again, now that his nose was right under your chin. 

yet he doesn’t look up at you, only silently shoving the base of the shirt into your pants and flattening out all the creases sticking out. 

he turns over his shoulder and fumbles through your briefcase, and he pulls out the peach colored lipstick you wore the previous day. 

“give me tha--”

“no,” he slaps your hand away and holds both your wrists down over your stomach. 

the click of the lipstick sounds when the cap comes off, and his brown orbs zoom in on the shape of your mouth as he draws on your lips.

sweat was beginning to make itself known in the heart of your palm, and even on your back that was probably starting to attract the shirt to your skin.

he pulls away with a look of satisfaction and caps on the lipstick, returning it back to your briefcase with his hand still around your wrists. 

the shadow of ares looms over you as he stands up and turns you to face the mirror, his hands warm on your shoulders over the material of the dress shirt. 

chills run through your body when his face lowers right next to yours on your left, and he locks eyes with you in the mirror.

he’s drawn the lipstick really well, and through the mirror, he starts tucking in bits and pieces of your hair into your bun to make it look neater.

“oh,” he coos into your ear, and his voice sounded so smooth and gentle, you were scared that he’s been possessed. 

“my pretty, pretty doll.”

his eyes refuse to leave yours just as screams begin to erupt all around in your head like a sound system when yours are unable to find a way to peel themselves away too. his lips land on your neck where he’s pulled enough material for him to create one fresh mark, the gentle pressure into his mouth causes a strain in your face.

“you can leave the top button open and nobody would be able to see the marks, so i’ve essentially saved you the trouble of coating your neck in make up.”

every muscle in your system fails to recognise a method to relax, even after he’s released you. 

“are we going or do you want to be late for work and get yourself fired just after... what? four weeks of work?” 

his back turns on you and light floods into the house just as he opens the front door, leaving you with literally no other choice but to pick up your briefcase and tail him. 

how do you describe the feeling in your stomach when you sit in silence in the car with someone you hate? 

the sky was filled with fluffy clouds and you saw more dogs along the way to the hospital than usual. every now and then the smell of his shirt and the body gel you used on yourself buries itself into your nostrils. 

his parking ritual sets itself in stone in your bones, and you start to debate with yourself if he’s doing it without knowing it’s having an effect on you or that this was his normal routine. but before he fixes all the gear, you get the door open.

“where are you--”

“i’m going up first. i don’t want to be seen with you.”

he scoffs and rolls his eyes before looking at you with wide, gleaming eyes.

“you’re learning!” 

“ha,” the warmth of the car park engulfs you when you step out, but you bend over a little to look him in the eye through the passenger’s seat. “i guess we’re both learning new things every day.”

the expression on his face falls as you slam the door shut, and you don’t bother looking back over your shoulder as you crossed the road to get to the lift lobby. 

you settled in your office with the classical music running in the background, and you see hyunjae’s legs stride the length of your office before he steps into his. 

the screen of your computer lights up and an email flies in almost immediately.

from: choi young joon

to: the neuro-research dept

subject: head of research amendments 

dear all,

it is my regret to inform you that doctor kim ryuk hoon has been relieved of his duties as of this email thus forth.

doctor min han seok, the senior research doctor will be taking over doctor kim ryuk hoon’s duties as of this email thus forth. 

doctor kim ryuk hoon has been with us for 43 years, so if you have the chance to wish him well on his journey into retirement, i’m sure he will greatly appreciate it. 

regards,

choi young joon

the shuffle in the next office steals your attention away from the screen, and you watch through the transparent glass below the frosted area as he stands up. 

there was a lack of movement, and his feet were so perfectly aligned with each other, it could’ve looked like he was a mannequin in his own office.

but you were aware of what he could be thinking. tons of reasons for doctor kim’s relief was definitely zipping through his head, because there was absolutely no reason for the hospital, or doctor choi, to force him into retirement or relieve him of his duties all of a sudden like this. 

none. 

the screen was calling out to you again, but hyunjae steals it once more when he finally moves. the glass door of his office swings open, cuing you to get up and follow, not bothering about the music still playing on your stereo.

you find yourself staring at your phone with about an hour left before you needed to go on your rounds, yet you were standing next to hyunjae, waiting for the lift, wanting to go to the north wing.

by the time the both of you arrived at the neuro-research department, doctor kim was gone from his cubicle, with only some larger files left in the space where a doctor min han seok was shifting his belongings to now. 

eric was carrying some boxes of stationery when he saw you, and a small, almost pained, smile stretches itself across his lips. 

“where’s doctor kim?” hyunjae walks over and whispers to eric directly, though you were sure doctor min wasn’t deaf. 

“he... uh--”

“doctor kim made a mistake with the system and he accidentally leaked patient information onto a public database. luckily someone from the IT sector discovered the breach and figured it out quickly,” doctor min butts in without taking his attention away from his new desk. 

“but if it was so easily recovered then why was he... what? fired? forced into retirement?” hyunjae looked so defensive, you would’ve mistaken him for doctor kim’s son or something. 

“that was doctor kim’s call, not anybody else’s.”

a painful silence. 

“the two of you will be free from neuro-research work today, i’ll have mr son help me with settling in and taking over so i’ll see you tomorrow onwards. i do believe you have rounds to go on soon, no?”

hyunjae was leaning on the cubicle partition, so when he pulls away and stands up straight, he looked like he was about to punch someone in the face.

but you remember that he was more professional than he looked, and a polite smile flits across his face for a few seconds for doctor min to see. 

“i understand, thank you for taking up the responsibility. i look forward to working with you,” he extends a palm out for doctor min, who shakes it with a look of impress on his face. 

he shakes yours too when you offer your hand, and hyunjae turns on his heels to leave with eric flashes you a look of worry. 

the rest of the day goes on as per usual with your rounds and patient record-checking, yet every single second you spent not on your rounds or patient record-checking you were thinking about doctor kim. 

it was a small error, but doctor choi must’ve decided to use this opportunity to protect doctor kim from living his last days in a hospital. he wasn’t anywhere near death, yet doctor choi must’ve been so dedicated to treating him like a parent that he wanted doctor kim to rest after 43 years in the same hospital.

but how horrid doctor kim must be feeling, to be forced into retirement so much earlier than intended. 

how guilty doctor choi must be feeling, to force his mentor out of the hospital despite knowing how much he enjoyed working here.

your rounds ended on time today, and hyunjae wasn’t anywhere to be found when you were back in your office.

finally some time away from this man, ugh.

you search through some hospital database, searching for doctor kim’s information which you prayed it hadn’t been taken down.

voila.

you clock out and head opposite the road to get two servings of your favourite chowder, buying some health products and flowers while waiting for the food to be done. 

a cab was hailed, and you decided that this was going to be a routine. 

the house the cab stopped at looked somewhat like hyunjae’s, though it was definitely smaller. hyunjae’s house had a porch and a front yard, but doctor kim’s had a whole garden right out the door. 

if you didn’t know someone lived here, you would’ve. 

the walls of the house was a gentle shade of yellow and the roof was navy blue. every window was lit up and it tells you that he was home.

you pay the cab driver and carefully hold all your items in hand as he drives off. the warmth of the house calls out to you, and you think about what to say when you see doctor kim. 

your knuckles meet the wood of the door and you hear some shuffling that gets louder towards it, so you stand back to greet the man who got the door open. 

yet you meet a pair of eyes that you can’t remember the last time you looked at without feeling like love was the only thing you knew.

or at least, the definition of love to you at that point of time. 

the flowers get a tighter grip and a still, surprised silence falls between the two of you, the name of the face who was taken from your life already in your head, but finding difficulty in escaping through your throat.

your heart stops and your lips part, eyes quivering when those orbs sink into your skin. 

with an immense amount of effort and the undying need to finally say something, the words come out sounding like you were wheezing, like you were whispering because you were afraid someone was going to hear you. 

“...younghoon?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter XV: Vetus Flamma

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 119: Occlumency

Frank still felt like he was falling and moving for a very long time even after he felt the cold surface on his face, and pushed himself onto hands and knees.

They were almost in total darkness, only the burn of a blue light leaving streaks across their eyes and slowly dimming to guttural torches in the wall barely illuminated anything. It was just shadows on top of nothingness, the floor they were on had the exact same depth and shape as the endless black ceiling above. Padfoot was almost indistinguishable except his flashing eyes.

When finally he did get unsteadily to his feet and offered Alice a hand up, their eyes only just dimly took in the doors surrounding them on all sides, and they all huddled closer together in the center. Nobody was going to ask if they should try those out.

Nobody declared where they were for reassurance, but nobody was being attacked either. They just hovered in this endless void until finally the silence became too much. Alice needed a sense of purpose right now, so she took an uneasy breath, and summoned the book to her.

There was no telling which direction it zoomed from, it just blended in too well with this place. Frank lit the tip of his wand for a better light source than those dusky blue flames, but the chapter title illuminated nothing, they'd never heard of Occlumency.

Regulus frowned in sympathy for Kreacher being found up in the attic after all this time, and wondered if his old elf missed him and was hiding in his favorite spot. Had his parents even mourned his passing, or instead toasted his goodbye as a good one, since he'd died doing exactly what they wanted? Did Sirius even care, or was he still busy mourning Potter and had only mentioned him as a passing thought? Was Kreacher the only one in that place who would even miss him?

He wasn't the only one noticing this detail though, and caught Peter's eyes which were just as worried.

Peter didn't at all like how this was so utterly dismissed by the Sirius in the book, nor how everyone in here just scoffed at his name again and passed over it. He couldn't entirely blame them, after his shrine felt like an extra blow to the back, but his thoughts lingered on Dobby. He may have been the first house-elf they'd heard doing such a thing as going behind their master's back, but that didn't mean he'd be the only one.

Everyone's attention was diverted to the latest development, Snape. Taking private lessons with Harry?!

"Dumbledore's really trying to kill my kid, isn't he?" James asked faintly. His three friends shivered in particular disgust for how pale he suddenly looked in this shadowy place, it really brought up the ghost in him he'd be at the time.

"Oh don't be so dramatic!" Lily rolled her eyes at him, she was even smiling of all things. "This is the kindest thing I've heard Sev do this whole time! He doesn't like being around Harry, but he's taking the time to teach him personally!"

Frank couldn't help but still think her rather naive. After everything they'd heard him doing, she still somehow thought that?

It wasn't just his utter amazement though.

"Don't be daft Evans!" Potter actually snapped at her. "I'm starting to wonder if Occlumency is a poison he's going to slip him or something, how can you even pretend he's still even a decent person after all he's done!"

She riled up in frustration, and to everyone's amazement the two began a bickering round, but one they hadn't seen in quite some time now. The last fight they'd really had was back on the Knight Bus, and he'd believed just as firmly as she had the crimes Sirius had been accused of. A lot had changed since then.

Clearly not enough.

In the meantime they'd been almost passively ignoring each other, even cordial the past few interactions. Whoever would have thought he'd now find himself agreeing with James Potter Lily still needed a reality check.

He'd been proven to be a Death Eater in the last book, had been nothing but an arse to her own kid plus theirs and everyone else in that school given any opportune moment, and that really wasn't any different than back in their time at school now. No matter how much she kept saying he wasn't really like that around just her, Frank wondered what it would take for her to see being one way to everyone but one person didn't make it okay.

"Lily, hun," Alice finally stepped forward, placing her hand gently on her arm, and Lily tensed up and turned sharply to throw her off before she caught herself, stopping at the last moment before slapping her hand away. She took several deep breaths and was nearly fighting back tears.

She was well aware this was a last, pitiful defense in a long stream of issues she had with Sev. She looked Alice in the eye, and took another steadying breath. She did not want to lose their friendship, she couldn't just keep lashing out at everyone when she knew full well they agreed with the Marauders.

Turning almost calmly back to him now, she cleared her throat and said with at least an attempt at a peaceable tone, "Severus saved Harry's life in his first year," she needlessly reminded. "You bent over backwards for him," she gestured to the black dog, "and you've obviously made some sort of peace with your friends no matter the shit they do," she didn't need to gesture at Pettigrew. "Can you not bloody pull your head out of your arse and try to see Sev might be trying."

She spoke that to everyone, maybe without the insults intended at Frank and Alice.

James did not look impressed, and he spoke without thinking, "My friends haven't been inducted into Death Eater's already like Snape is! Remind me  Sirius, about Snape being involved in Mary's-" Then he whirled on the spot with a look of panic and half shouted, "wait!"

Too late, Sirius had long been looking for an excuse to change back, and backing up Prongs was more than good enough in his opinion. With a little pop he stood before them on two legs once more, and everyone except his three friends backed away in shock at the sight.

His pallor eerily resembled that of a corpse in this pathetic lighting, the long dark hair hiding even more well whatever gray should be in his eyes. His clothes were half torn to shreds adding to the gruesome sight, and Remus ran to him at once in concern. If he'd started to change back too early, if their worrying had been obsolete this whole time and he'd actually bitten him-

Sirius doubled over in pain, the retort lost on his lips as he hadn't been expecting it to hurt that badly, but he quickly tried to wiggle out of the worried hands tugging his shirt aside. There were scars beneath, but no bite marks, he already knew that, he could feel the difference.

"Stop moving you idiot," James blustered as he grabbed him practically in a head lock so Remus could see clearly. Peter was already in place, wand tip lit as close to his side as he could without being in Remus's way.

"What's the matter Prongs, finally admitting I'm prettier than Evans?" He tried to grumble, but it came out more as a pathetic huffing.

James squeezed, and Sirius yelped, but more in surprise as something cool began tracing along his side, and the burning finally dulled to a throbbing. He couldn't properly see what Moony was applying, but whatever it was he released a breath he'd been holding in for a very long time and sagged in relief in James' arms, though he'd eat one of those flames rather than admit it.

"If I knew you lot were worried about a real bite, I'd have ignored Prongs's idiocies right away and told you. I think I'd know the difference." He patted James's arm, and he marginally relaxed his grip. They'd all been bitten by Moony at some point, and the burn of that injury always lasted longer than any other kind. Yet Moony had bitten Wormtail on the ear in that cage and he'd immediately changed back, and despite his own losing consciousness there at the end, he was still confident he'd been a dog and stayed one long enough there were no side effects.

Regulus watched in fascination as they fawned over him, until finally he was released from their clutches and he stood back up with a grin and smoothed out his hair. He and Sirius had never even been hugged by mother, and father's only usual affection was a firm pat on the shoulder which Sirius hadn't received since before his time in school. How did he stand others being all over him?

Lily stared as he showed such care for his friend, and couldn't even bring herself to tense up again as he turned wearily back towards her like he expected her to start all over again. Instead she wrung her hands for a moment and tried a new approach. "He can change," she wanted to believe that so bad, that he'd go back to the way he was before he started hanging around those awful pre-Death Eaters. "Give him a chance to prove it."

He tapped his foot, ran his hand through his hair, and twitched uneasily, but his eyes never left her steady gaze. "Shall I only curse him for the shit I know he's done?"

She didn't laugh like he'd been hoping, but there was the smallest twitch to her mouth that could have just been another flicker of azure. She turned back to Longbottom and gave Alice a friendly nudge, the two beginning to whisper finally where on Earth they could possibly be as Alice went on reading about Sirius and Snape nearly brawling in that kitchen before Arthur came in.

He'd meant it, in as much as he could. If that git was the reason Harry never had to see another attack like Arthur's, hell, he'd probably go thank the slimeball. He just didn't believe it would be possible, even if he did make a valiant effort not to sneer in disgust about how he treated Harry that first Monday night, insulting him at nearly every question, surely making the answers needlessly complicated. He didn't have any proof Snape was making Harry feel as stupid as possible as he explained the concept of mind reading, never having heard of this branch of magic personally, but surely the arse didn't have to give Harry zero preparation for what was to come other than 'prepare yourself!'

Remus and Sirius stayed close to James in case he spontaneously combusted from trying to keep hold of himself. He hadn't even seemed to hear Sirius had passed Harry something along in the book, possibly even their mirrors based on the little description given, and barely acknowledged Harry's hilariously pitiful attempts to get together with Cho. He was just focused very intently on Evans and trying to keep his scowl at least as well-hidden as the two of them holding hands while the shadows provided the cover.

Lily certainly didn't notice Potter's efforts, she kept her back to the lot to hide her own shame-filled face as it all somehow turned out even worse than any of them could have imagined. Harry was in even more intense pain and suffering as Severus dragged out flashes of old, horrible memories, and he never gave a single second of caring!

Harry's revelation managed to shock some of the despair out of her that she'd made an arse out of herself again, that Harry's consistent dreams of the long dark corridor ending in a locked door was actually in the Ministry of all places, down near the old courtrooms. She wasn't the only one who shivered with distaste, they didn't need to imagine Harry's dream anymore, wherever they were was a pretty oddly comparable place, it just housed many doors.

"You think that's where we are?" Frank finally asked, quietly enough like he was trying to let the guttering flames drown out his voice. "The Department of Mysteries?"

"Harry's been dreaming of this place," Regulus slowly agreed, "and Arthur was attacked at work on guard duty."

"Merlin's beard, what is this place?" Alice whispered, revolving slowly on the spot with just a tinge of curiosity now. You-Know-Who wanted to get into here, was the weapon behind one of these doors?

Frank grabbed her hand to keep her at his side, but he could see the others all eyeing different doors now too. "Let's get to the last sentence," he said all in a rush, almost pleading with the others not to do something so foolish and have them all wind up almost dead all over again. "Then we can, try a few doors, poke around just a little. But if anything, anything starts to look bad, I'll finish and get us out of this."

"That's fair," James finally agreed. Nobody moved towards the doors anyways, but even though he'd spoken for the others, he seemed the least curious of all, eyes still on Lily.

"Can we at least all agree we're honorary Unspeakables now just for being in here?" Sirius asked with a wide grin, causing all of them to snort in surprise at him.

Harry's lesson with Snape was dismissed, Harry was feeling almost as sick as when he'd seen the attack on Arthur as he joined Ron and Hermione for homework, that barely lasted a page before he was feeling so feverish he went off to bed.

Then it happened again, more vibrant even than when Harry had felt You-Know-Who's mood in the locker room. Harry was sprawled on the floor with laughter that wasn't his, and pain that he couldn't escape when Ron found him.

Lily shivered and pressed her hand to her mouth to stop herself from screaming. Two rounds of Occlumency with Severus and this happened moments later, was it a coincidence? Was he really still a Death Eater through and through? What was going to happen to her son because of it?

Alice came to the final line and was more than glad not to speak that aloud, turning to the others and nodding now was the best opportunity they were going to get. Some more reluctantly than others, they all went to a different door, and pushed. Nothing happened.

They weren't really surprised, but some were more disappointed than others as she finished with the nightmarish statement that You-Know-Who was happier than he'd been in fourteen years.

[msrosey]

Ok- What if Shadow was Good and Amy was anti. Would Amy be the one who makes first moves or is it still Shadow?

This spawned far too much world building, i apologize in advance 

- set during the Dark Arms invasion, with the usual anti-Amy behavior where she hates Sonic and has her trusty warhammer. Twisting her a little bit so she’s not as childish, but still as messed up. Reminder that anti-Amy goes as Rosy the Rascal!  

- there’s no official anti-Shadow, so let’s just say the canon divergence here was that Maria /didn’t/ die via GUN raid and instead lived a longer life that was ultimately cut short by her condition. Shadow then never gains his gloom and doom persona and instead is more of a caretaker to her, albeit one with a MAJOR guilt complex for his creation not being able to cure her, and went in suspended animation until the Black Comet returns. 

Now onto the show!

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AO3, for those that prefer! 

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 Of all the things Rosy thought would end the world, alien invasion had been worrying low on her list. Inter-dimensional police force with the proper permits to take them all in? Pfft, sure. That freak echnida deciding the best way to destroy the emeralds was to blow up the planet? Wouldn’t have bet money on it, but why not? Even the idea of one of Robotnik’s helper bots going postal was more likely then, well—this. 

From the flying headquarters, Rosy could see the plumes of smoke rising from patches of scorched city. Flying dark specters zoomed over the land below, all light cast in a bloody sheen from the planetary sized comet hanging in the sky. 

She pressed closer to the glass, smiling at the view. Red always was her favorite—

“Amy,” a voice snapped behind her, haughty and suffocatingly uptight. Like the little twerp it belonged to. Rosy rolled her eyes. Still, she turned and gave the fox her signature crooked smile.

“Tails,” Rosy crooned, leaning against her green war hammer. “I was just stopping to smell the sulphur flowers. Something up?"

The fox looked annoyed, but Rosy knew that was typical for the stuck-up brat. “You may address me as Miles. Have you been paying attention to the meeting at all?"

Rosy batted her lashes, fixing her gaze on him and ignoring the crowd of people around the conference room. “Of course, Tails. Alien invasion. Comet’s gonna destroy the planet. Yada-yada-yada, I’m not good enough to fix it myself!” At the last part she mimicked talking with her hand in the fox’s signature serious tone. 

Miles narrowed his eyes, but didn’t rise to the bait. Boring. “Yes, this endeavor will require all of our strengths in order to succeed. And you’re aware of your part in the mission?”

A tingle ran down her back at the reminder, putting every single spine on edge. Rosy's grin turned manic. “Yep! I’m gonna hurt Sonic! Mangle him, bash him, crush him up, up, up!”

“Quite,” Miles said, raising a brow. “Your portion is critical, since as long as Sonic is guarding the remaining Beryl for Black Death on Demon Island, our plan stands little chance of succeeding.”

Thoughts of brutally maiming the hedgehog of her nightmares spun around Rosy's head, making her feel flushed. The planet’s destruction was one thing, and a thing she didn’t care much about, but Sonic— Well, the end of the world just wouldn’t feel right if he wasn’t absolutely bloody destroyed. She would have just tried on her own, as she always did, but these Black Arms were quite the heavy customers...and who was she do decline an offer from Miles Prowler to step aboard his exclusive gunship? 

He gathered an interesting group as well. Her gaze trailed over to the museum curator, Rogue, whose poofy purple dress was splattered in the green blood of the aliens. Probably had a fun run in with them when they were going for the last stash of emeralds in the Central Museum. Besides her was Knuckles, whose drive to destroy all the emeralds would have made him a genuine threat…if he wasn’t such a total wimp. Vanilla though, Rose knew she’d have to keep an eye on. As if to prove it, the leather clad rabbit was already looking at her, permanent sneer fixed on her scarred face. 

Ugh, assassins. Always so eager to intimidate. Rose rolled her eyes as Miles. The rabbit had eyes on her for a while, which would account for why Rosy had been so on edge since setting foot on the ship…unless, of course her internal tracking was picking up—

From beside her, someone cleared his throat. 

“Um, excuse me, Sir Prowler?” Doctor Kintobor was already wringing his hands, voice trembling. “I understand that the Black Arms need to be defeated, but maybe we can just…move them to another planet? I do so hate causing any harm to a sentient…um, sentient species. They do deserve to live too...”

Miles looked about to cause harm, but also like he severely doubted that the doctor was sentient. “Their lives are not worth more than our own. And this Black Comet of theirs threatens that. Or do you have a better plan, Doctor, hmm? Maybe ask them nicely to commit genocide in the next solar system?”

Doctor Kintobor flushed at the laughter that filled the room. “Oh, um, I suppose.”

“Besides, we have it on good intel that the Dark Arms have planned this invasion for some time. They will not be easily dissuaded and we only have one real source on their behavior,” Miles continued, casting a dark eye around the room, “And on that note…” His eyes landed on hers. Rosy tensed. “Vanilla, restrain her."

Rosy barely had enough time to call out cowards before the floppy eared assassin tackled her down, breaking her connection with her hammer. Metal clasps rose from the floor and locked her in place, leaving her to thrash. Beryl enforced metal, cause he was a wimp. Stupid Tails and his stupid inventions! 

“Apologies for the rough treatment, but we all know you can handle it,” Miles continued, posture immaculate. “And we couldn’t take the risk of you attacking our next guest.”

Touching her. People were touching her! Rosy struggled against the rabbit holding her down, baring full fangs at the room. 

“Um, maybe we should be, a little nicer…?” Rosy heard Dr. Kintober say weakly. “We do need her to take out Sonic and help defeat the Black Arms.”

“Correction,” Miles said cooly, “We need her and our guest to do that. And she already has a proven violent predisposition towards those of his species. You can see how we'd rather not take the risk, Doctor.”

Species...

Rosy’s head swam as the pieces began to connect themselves. She knew she’d felt something, she knew, knew, knew, one of them was on this ship. A— 

The doors of the gunship conference room opened and a familiar silhouette filled the doorway. 

“Sonic!” Rosy roared, bucking the assassin off her with one sharp movement. Her hammer flew across the room and slammed into her chains, breaking them into so many fine pieces. Emeralds, Beryl, whatever you called them, always were weak against some solid willpower. Rosy launched herself over the table and towards the figure, weapon in hand. Her mind raced with thoughts of the extra special smash she’d been saving up for him.

Just as Rosy got close enough to really savor the impending violence, a bright purple light filled the air. And when it disappeared, so did the rest of the room.

She blinked her eyes, rubbing hard as she found herself…atop the gunship? Tail’s stupid Anticyclone. Wind buffeted her sideways and Rosy dig her hammer into the steel hull to keep balance. How did—

“Sorry to alarm you, but a fight inside would have crashed the gunship,” someone said behind her. Rosy spun, launching out with her hammer. The hedgehog - because it was a hedgehog, her instincts were always right - only moved, speeding away on…hover boots?

“Aw, did you get some new toys, Sonic?” Rosy cooed, crouching low to keep from sliding off the ship. Stupid Tails was starting evasive maneuvers. How cute. “You know how I love breaking your new toys.”

“I am not Sonic—“

“But you’re a hedgehog!”

She rushed forward at the next tilt of the ship, this time managing to surprise him enough to get close. Then another purple light and he was gone. Rosy pouted, turning to look around the surface of the ship. “No fun, disappearing all the time. Don’t you want to play?"

Something dark zipped by her, knocking her hammer from her hands. Rosy watched it sail over the edge of the gunship, disappearing in the grey smoke fumes below. “Hey!”

The blur came to a stop a few feet away, his form more clear. A black and red hedgehog, although with spines a little too raised to be her Sonic’s, even with another of his color switches. Rosy glared. “That wasn’t nice! I just wanted to hurt you!” 

The hedgehog looked at her with odd eyes, tilting his head. “Why?”

Rosy made a face. “Why, what?”

“Why do you want to hurt me? Is it because I resemble this Sonic of yours?” His voice was even, betraying none of his emotions. It put Rosy on edge. No one was that calm without a plan. He continued, “What has this Sonic done to inspire such vengeance? To drive you to violence? Is he worth it?”

“Worth…” Rosy wasn’t sure whether to laugh or attack him for those words. So she did both. “Who cares about worth!"

The dark hedgehog only dodged her punches, keeping that same face of unruffled intent. “So you attack for the sake of it? For…fun?”

Now he sounded like that wuss echnida. Pacifist was just another word for coward. Rosy snarled. “Stop running away! I hate it when you run away. Stand and fight me, already!”

“No,” he said simply, ducking another attack. “Because I’m not your enemy. Why is Sonic?” 

Why was—why was—Sonic? Now Rosy did laugh, this time pausing her assault to do so. Why was Sonic her enemy? Why? In this horrible dimension where everything went wrong, someone actually had the nerve to ask why? An odd empty feeling filled her gut. 

Why was a stupid question to ask about enemies. How was always the more enlightening. Memories began to trickle in, images of a burning forest and screaming hoglets. Memories she’d long ago forced herself to forget. Her fists clenched. The answer ripped itself from her throat—

“Because he’s Sonic!”

This time her attack took him by surprise, and he only barely managed to slide out of the way on his stupid cheat hover boots. Her fist left a distinct imprint on the hull of the ship and Rosy could faintly hear Miles cursing a blue streak from the pilot deck. Whoopsie, another toy smacked around by an uncaring hedgehog. 

She thought he’d be used to it by now.

The memories roused by the thought only fueled her rage. Not her normal simmer, no, this time it was tinged with that ugly empty desperation from so long ago. Rosy flew at the hedgehog again, screaming. “Because he never takes anything seriously!”

Another kick, this time sloppy enough that he had more than enough time to move out of the way. Rosy slipped in the empty space where he'd just been, falling a sharp ways down the hull until she managed to launch herself back up. The lack of contact with him was beginning to grate, remind her of the times when…

“Because he’d ruin everything and just keep running from it!” It was getting darker, her steps harder to place. Meanwhile the other hedgehog looked as if he could do this all day with his stupid cheating hover boots and weird emerald powers. He didn’t even look as if he’d broke a sweat. 

Just like—

Amy-Rosy-Rosy cried out as swung again, “Because he ruined everything and wouldn’t even take me seriously!”

That caused something to bloom on the other hedgehog’s face, but Rosy was past the niceties of taunting. And that had been quite enough stalling. She feinted for his legs - stupid, stupid hedgehog legs - and just as he leapt out of the way, she grinned. He caught it, frowning in response, just in time for her hammer to soar from the clouds below and catch him.

In the gut.

Rosy grinned. Always nice to get a little cheap shots in. That always managed to humble a hedgehog. He fell back, sliding against the entirety of the ship’s top hull. Her hammer still with him, only to return to her open hand. She smiled at the sight of him laid low. “Aw, was that too good an answer for you?”

He groaned. Rosy giggled a little, flush with pride. From here she could almost pretend it was Sonic, finally stopped. What a thought. She leaned against her hammer, still smiling. “Let me give you some advice, new hedgehog. People are basically awful and are always going to find a reason to hurt others. You might as well stop giving them chances."

The gunship swerved again, but Rosy moved with it, making an odd little dance towards the hedgehog. He was already rising, but that was fine. That just meant she could smash him some more. She readied her warhammer as she got close, humming a senseless tune, “And pop goes your—“

The world went sideways. Rosy had enough time to catch the brief sight of long ears flapping - how did all of them know how to fly with no wings! Cheats! - just as she was kicked off the edge of the gunship. She dug in her hammer on the side, metal screeching, but there wasn’t enough side left. Vanilla’s stern face looked down at her as she fell.

No fun, Rosy thought, I didn’t even get to break Sonic first.

Her ears popped at the pressure of air around her and Rosy felt her gaze track over to the giant comet in the sky, still glowing. What a lovely color. At least her last sight would be —

Red.

Red eyes staring right at her, an odd look in them that Rosy hadn’t seen for longer than she could remember. The hedgehog was just above her, so close she could see the sweat flying from his brow His spines were being blown astray and his hover boots were struggling to boost him forward but still, his face was determined. He had her hammer in one hand and the other hand, outstretched...towards her.

Rosy only stared. 

There was no—no reason—saving her? Her? No one had ever—

His fangs were bared in strain as he stretched his arm further. 

Just as they broke the cloud cover and the gunship was almost just a dot in the sky, Rosy found herself doing something she hadn’t done since she was a hoglet and watched her entire family burn because of a mad boy’s boredom. 

She reached out for help. 

His face seemed to turn more determined at that, lunging forward with another roar of flames from his hover boots. Hand trembling, her gloves barely brushed his before—

A bright purple light filled everything she could see and Rosy blinked to find herself back on the gunship, this time in the conference room. The near abandoned conference room. She watched Dr. Kintober duck behind a chair with a squeak. Normally she’d punish such overt wimpiness, but instead Rosy just stared at the hand still holding hers. 

“Here,” he offered, holding out her hammer, “Sorry I had to borrow your weapon, a jump like that required more chaos energy than I had.”

Rosy blinked as she accepted it. Giving her hammer back? The one she’d just used to crack several of his ribs. The question was on her lips before she even realized, “Why?” 

He seemed to realize her question was not quite about the hammer, judging by the light in his eyes. Rosy wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen that before, a gaze so…soft. Calm. As if it carried an infinite patience capable only of someone who truly—cared? 

An odd thrum set itself up in Rosy’s chest, like the beating of an organ that had long ago turned hard.  

“Because,” he said, “I made a promise a long time ago to give everyone a chance. And it looked like you needed one.”

Rosy opened her mouth to say something, not exactly sure what, only for the conference room door to slide open. More than several guns pointed out from the doorway. “Step away from Shadow the Hedgehog, Amy Rose! If you do not comply, we will be forced to shoot!”

The dark hedgehog in question scowled at this, turning towards the doorway. “I told you I had this handled! There’s no need for anyone to get hurt.”

“You got hurt,” Rosy pointed out. A strange feeling accompanied the words, an unfamiliar clench in her gut.

The hedgehog - Shadow? - didn’t even look away from the nozzles of the gun, still firmly planting himself between them and her as he answered, “I’m a living weapon. It doesn’t matter.”

Rosy furrowed her brow, something about his words hitting her weirdly. She didn’t…like them? She also didn’t like the guns, but somehow the fact that they were pointing at him was…bad? 

Well, only one way to fix that.

Huffing, Rosy shoved past him, moving to the front of the conference room. The guns followed her only to pause when she did, sitting herself into the chair originally marked for her. There was a short silence.

“Well? Don’t we got an alien invasion to stop?” Rosy called out, crossing her arms. She pouted at the clear sounds of disbelief from beyond the doorway, only stopped by Shadow clearing his throat. 

“Yes, there’s new intel we need to review. It’s rather time sensitive,” he said, folding his arms and managing to look like he'd hadn't just returned from an impromptu skydive. Rosy touched her own spines in a rush of insecurity, flattening the ones that stuck out the most. How did his already go back to normal? 

Rogue was the first to come out, tripping oddly over the first step. Rosy paused from her grooming to snort. Knuckles probably pushed her, the wuss. He got his comeuppance by being the next shoved through the doorway, courtesy of Miles. Who was still brandishing his gun. She raised a hand and wiggled her fingers at him. He sneered. Lovely kid.

Dr. Kintober slowly rose from under the desk, still shaking. He looked between her and Shadow quickly, something calculating in his gaze. Rosy shot him a sickly smile that sent him ducking back behind his chair to hide. Nice to see she still had it. 

As everyone began to filter in, with the obvious lack of Vanilla who likely knew better than to show her face so soon, Rosy slumped back in her seat and resolved to watch the proceedings. All were sending her strange looks she ignored, except for one. 

Shadow’s face was cast in an odd sheen from the sky outside and Rosy found herself holding her breath when his eyes passed over hers. The light made his eyes glow stronger, that same rare softness staring back at her. He gave her a small smile as the seconds stretched on and Rosy turned away sharply, blood pumping fast. 

Miles continued with his plan and Rosy ignored the odd suspicious glance at her, mind too busy picking apart the swarm of thoughts raging in her head. Red was always the color of destruction, of violence and rage and —

So why was the red of his eyes soothing?

[maggies-scribblings]

Marichat #4 for that drabble prompt list? :3

“Who gave you that black eye?”

Thanks for the ask, @lady-charinette! I got a little carried away, so I will finish it later… 😻

Adrien Agreste was a peculiar young man. When he was most stressed out and overworked, all he wanted to do was go out and run around. Naturally, having magical jewellery with the ability to turn into a cat hero came in handy on these occasions.

Today was one of those days…

School all day with an impromptu photoshoot during lunch — It’s just some pick-ups, Nathalie said. You’ll be done in thirty minutes, she said. He was definitely not done in thirty minutes. Instead, not only did he miss lunch but also got to the first class ten minutes late. He could hardly hear her Mme. Mendeleiev’s scolding over his stomach growling.

After school, he had fencing and Mandarin lessons, and a pesky akuma attack to round the day off. He could hardly keep his eyes open during dinner. Thank goodness Father isn’t here, he thought as he munched on his food, slumped over the dinner table, supporting his head on his left hand.

And yet, by the time he finished his homework and preparations for the next day, he felt revived. The physical exhaustion had worn off as he wound down, leaving him absolutely wired. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he let off some steam.

Moments later, a black-clad catboy was running, vaulting and whooping over the rooftops of Paris. All was peaceful — it always was after an akuma attack — so there wasn’t any real need to patrol.

He decided to stop by his collège on the way home, as there had been break-ins at other schools to steal computers… Nothing to report here either.

As he zoomed over the school’s rooftop to make his way back home, he caught sight of a familiar form on a balcony across the street, under some colourful fairy lights.

In the months that passed since that night, when Marinette pretended to like Chat Noir, he realised he liked her. Much more than he thought. It would be really nice to hang out with her more in his civilian form, and he sought her company often, but she was still awkward with him. When he visited her in the catsuit, though… it was almost as if she was a different person. He stopped by once in a while to check in on her. They confided in each other (without revealing details) about their respective unrequited loves and broken hearts.

As he jumped closer to the bakery, Chat Noir noticed Marinette was resting her head on her arms as she stood leaning on the railing. She seemed to be talking to herself. Was she crying? Concerned, he approached, landing on the bannister gently, so as not to startle her.

“Good evening,” he greeted, softly.

Marinette straightened and looked up, holding an ice pack to her right eye.

“Oh! Hello, Chat Noir. What are you doing here?”

She pulled away the ice pack to flip it to the colder side.

“Whoa!” Chat Noir couldn’t hold back his worries. “Who gave you that black eye?”

He leapt down onto the balcony and approached her to get a better look.

“Is it very bad? It was just pink earlier… I was hoping the ice would keep it from turning black.” Marinette fretted, picking up her phone to turn on the camera in selfie mode.

“Crap! I look horrible,” she said, mostly to herself.

“Let me see.”

Chat Noir delicately used a claw to lift up her chin and swiped her bangs out of the way with the other hand.

“It’s not too bad. I’ve had worse,” he quipped, and was rewarded with a small smile. He then straightened up and continued in a mock-serious tone, wagging a finger in the air. “My prescription is to keep icing your eye hourly, but never more than twenty minutes at a time. You can also steep some chamomile tea bags, let them cool down in the fridge and then apply.”

Marinette laughed at his schtick. It was exactly what he was aiming for. He liked to hear her laugh. Changing his act, he menacingly punched his own palm.

“Now, are you going to tell me who I’m going to beat up?”

Marinette hesitated for a fraction of a second.

“No one. Unless you want to beat me, haha! I just— punched myself… sewing!”

“How can anyone punch themselves sewing?” He tried not to laugh — and failed. “Sorry, I just can’t see it.”

“Well, it happens. I was… sewing leather! You see, leather’s tough, and you have to pull the needle real hard, then sometimes it just — whoosh — and —”

Marinette mimicked sewing movements as she described it (she’s too adorable!)

“I didn’t know you were into leather…” he purred, bending down to her eye level, and winked.

Marinette pushed him away by the nose, balancing herself on one foot.

“Don’t you start, you silly kitty!”

He froze. Something about her tone of voice, the way she pushed his nose playfully…

“Well, little lady, if you can’t handle a little flurrrting, just let me know!”

“You really are a tomcat, aren’t you? I bet you flirt with every girl in Paris.”

Chat Noir held his hand to his heart in mock offence.

“Why, I would never! I only have eyes for my lady and my little lady!”

“That’s still one lady too many for my taste!”

“Unfortunately, my Ladybug won’t give me the time of day.” His voice had lost all playfulness now. “I’m a hopeless, loveless kitty.”

He thought he saw her deflate somewhat.

“Poor kitty. I know exactly what that’s like.”

“The boy who broke your heart?”

“Hmm-hmm.”

“What— the guitar guy?” Chat Noir felt a rumble of anger bubbling in his chest. “The one with the weird eyelashes?”

“No!… And he has nice lashes, they’re just short.”

“Huh. I thought you were going out with him.”

“Definitely not. We hang out sometimes… but I just can’t open myself up to him as much as he needs me to.” She leaned against the railing again, looking towards the Seine. “He can read my emotions the way nobody else ever has, and sometimes I just can’t handle it.”

“Huh.”

Adrien’s chest ached. Weirdly, some part of him was happy to find out Luka was out of the picture.

“So… there’s another boy?”

“Yes. It’s hopeless.” Marinette sighed, but did not cry. Instead, she shook her head and breathed a bitter laugh. “I can’t even speak properly when I’m around him. I even told him I don’t like him like that… twice! And then pushed him and another friend together… I think they’re dating now! So yeah, I cock-blocked myself!”

“Language!” Chat Noir didn’t know what else to say except joke or pun. Anything to keep her from crying. “You should say cat-blocked instead: it’s nicer and a brilliant pun!”

She chuckled again.

“So, I cat-blocked myself. I might as well have told them to elope to Japan. I just made a fool of myself in front of the ice-cream man… again. And ran away… again.”

“Japan, huh?” The truth was right before his eyes, but he refused to admit it. Not without more information. “That’s a long way away for two French kids to elope.”

“Oh, she’s Japanese. I can just picture them, living a perfect life, winning fencing competitions together… Posing on the cover of gossip and business magazines as the new power couple in the industry…”

“Wow, you’ve given this a lot of thought, haven’t you?” He turned to her. “Don’t tell me it’s that model boy all the girls swoon for!”

“Bingo!”

Chat Noir had to sit down. He slid down with his back against the railing. How did he never see it? Was that why she behaved so weirdly around him? That would explain the posters, and the valentine card, and… He hit his forehead in frustration so hard Marinette looked down at him, confused.

“What’s wrong, Chat Noir? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Marinette. Just wondering what’s with this Adrien guy. All the girls seem to be fighting over him.” He added, smirking, “ I’m prettier, funnier, and better dressed than him. Sure, he’s rich and handsome—”

“That’s not why I lo—like him!” she snapped. “It might be the reason for those other girls, but not for me.”

“Why do you lo-like him then?” He asked in a whisper.

Marinette sighed and sat on the floor beside him, fidgeting with the now warm ice pack.

“I kinda hated him at first. I thought he was another stuck-up, spoiled, rich brat, like Chloé.”

Chat Noir couldn’t speak, so he nodded for her to continue.

“There was a silly misunderstanding, and I gave him the cold treatment. And he still took the time and effort to apologise. He was so sad by the thought of a total stranger not liking him…” She sighed, a small smile returning to her lips. “Then he made a kind gesture, a small one, but so sincere… he gave me his umbrella though it was raining,” breathing a chuckle, she added, “then, of course, I had to get an attack of the clumsies and make him laugh.”

Adrien remembered that. He remembered how angry she was at first. How she heard him out even if he was friends with her bully. He remembered the tingle he felt when their fingers touched. How she laughed with him when the umbrella snapped close on her.

“When I heard him laugh, I was a goner. Yes, he’s a model, rich and famous… but it was his kindness that I fell in love with.”

“Fell— in love?”

He could hardly breathe. The last years flashed before his eyes. When they paired up for the tournament. When she helped him run away from his fans. When she danced with him at Chloé’s party. His head was spinning so much he couldn’t stand up.

Of course the coolest, prettiest, kindest girl he knew was heartbroken. She was right there, at the same time he chased after Ladybug in vain. She was his everyday Ladybug, and he was too blind or too stupid to see it!

Ladybug would never love him. He would always be the sidekick. He couldn’t even protect her properly. It was his only job. Even that same day, the soccer akuma hit her with a ball on the face. Hard. The Miraculous cure had healed most of it, but he could see her right eye swelling visibly even under the mask before they separated. He told her to ice it, too.

It was ironic that his everyday Ladybug hurt herself in the same eye. What a coincidence…

Chat Noir was hyperventilating now, as all the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. His perfect vision went blurry all of a sudden. He heard Marinette calling his name. Marinette? Ladybug? 

Everything went black as he tried to call her name.

To be continued… 

Send me an ask with a number and a LoveSquare pairing (Including SnekMouse, etc.)

Prompt list here.

[Conclusion]

[croookvillin]

This was from an rp yes I’m extra but no I will not make my rps shorter *TomTord* ( half monster Tom btw)

The dead leaves crunched under the heavy weight of his feet as he ran.

The world was silent, the only real noise reaching up to his ears was the constant pounding of his heart and the swooshing of the wind passing by him.

Tom didn’t dare look back, but either way, he knew no one would be able to reach him at this rate; and even through gritted teeth and short bursts of breathes, he continued to run straight ahead into the open, grassy fields.

He didn’t know where exactly he was headed to, but his body and mind both cried at him to continue, to continue to zoom past the giant nicotine-brown trees blocking the way, and to continue on through the throbbing, searing pain of his legs as they urged him to stop.

The eyeless Brit did not alter the quickness of his pace, even as the branches distorted looking into twisted limbs and reached out for him, trying to keep him away from his goal that even he was not certain what it was. Tom didn’t let them slow him down, and he cut and clawed anything in his path, tearing down twigs and other things to clear his way onward.

And then he came to an abrupt descend, his legs pressing harshly down onto the ground as to not accident swing him forward harshly onto the ground. Tom extending his arms out beside him, trying his best to restore his balance and ground himself onto the solid dirt.

The voices had long since came to an abrupt decease, and only now Tom was left alone with his jumbled thoughts as he recollected his breath.

He took in a long breathe through his nose, enjoying the sweet smell of fresh air and crisp waters as the sound rattled in his ears.

The water constantly pounded onto the rocks below, only to be silenced as it joined the rest of the stream ahead. The bliss pool at the bottom was varnish clear, and dozens of trees surrounding around, almost as if shielding away the beauty from the world; and Tom found himself removing the rest of his shambles he still called clothing as his eyeless eyes focused entirely on the beauty infront of him.

The water below seemed to call out to him in its soothing waves, and the flowers scattering around nodded their heads through the wind in agreement.

Tom could not deny them.

After removing the last piece of clothing from his body, (you know already ain’t no explaining needed) the Brit let his instincts overcome as he raced forward, ignoring the pain of his legs again as he launched his upper body forward and dived into the clear waters.

——-

“Thomas!” He’d called out again for what was the hundredth time that night. (Bro imagine though he’s living his best life and Tord gotta be looking for him smh.)

The grey eyed male continued to trek forward, still making sure to follow the path of the deep set tracks that lead into the dark forest ahead. The trees were still bared and naked from their usual mint green leaves, and Tord was thankful for the winter season still in motion that now allowed him more view ahead.

Still, he couldn’t deny the creepiness of it all as he stalked forward, his head raised and held high as he stepped a tentative foot into the unlit forest.

The naked trees were practically staring him down like silent sentries, and Tord took that as a silent threat as he continued. He wouldn’t let a handful of scary looking trees halt him from his ongoing search for the stupid Brit.

He continues to walk ahead, making sure to keep a sharp eye out, not wanting to risk getting spooked by anything secretly popping out at the most unnecessary times; but still making sure to check if Tom was nearby. His tracks stated otherwise though, since they seemed to stretch on towards the farthest north side downwards. The trees in the forest loomed over him, and during the day, Tord would have found it quite relaxing as the shielded him from the violent UV rays of the sun, but now, in the middle of the night with not even the stars guiding him, the Norski found it rather terrifying.

His heart raced, and he took a couple minutes to recollect thoughts from the rising panic.

Oh how his anxiety could be such a dick, and making him see things that aren’t even there to begin with. And if he wasn’t scared of Tom, then really-he had no excuse to be afraid of anything else.

So he marches onwards, his guard on high and the silence deafening to his ears.

Tord was leery about the whole situation, more so now that he had zero means of self defense. He tried hard not to breath in so much, as the musty air surrounding him made it almost painful to breath in, and luckily for him, the tracks were coming to an abrupt end, and Tord could faintly make out the sound or running water somewhere nearby.

He followed the sound, trying to make out whether it was all real and not just some hallucinations. The sound was more distinct every time he got closer. A waterfall.

The Norwegian picked up his legs and ran, his pace quickening with every step he took. His vibrantly red shoes hit the earthy ground with loud thumps, his heart quickening its pace as the tracks finally ended up ahead.

Tord gasped, the sight alone enough to blow the rest of his breath away as he stood in awe.

It was loud enough to get even Tom’s attention, who was busy showering himself in the clear waters underneath. His ears perked up, and stopped splashing the water around him as he swung his head around to stare Tord right into his blazing grey eyes.

He looked beyond pissed now.

“Are you fucking kidding me!? I have been going through this scary ass forest and looking for your over exaggerating ass-while you, deeming yourself worthy of some form of award, have been bathing here this whole time!?” He stepped closer with every complaint, his face reddening out of anger as he waved his hands around in gesturing motions. “I always have to be the big person in the group! Always! You never care about MY feelings, and you never care to ask how I am! Even before in highschool, you abandoned me like I was some sort of toy for your entertainment! Like I wasn’t good enough for you anymore-even when I had put myself through hell and back!” Tord took in a sharp inhale through his nose, “I know I’ve always stated ‘Put yourself in someone else’s shoes’ and even as I’ve done so, I still don’t understand why you’re such a dick to me! I always got the shorter end of the stick from you, and you never seem to even be bothered by it-always acting like we’ve never even been best friends before! Like everyone else matters except for me!” His lower lip quivered a fraction, and the Norwegian tried to man through the tears of rage that threatened to descend downwards, “And here I am! Slaving myself for you and your selfish needs and I always end up labeled as the bad guy! You know what Thomas! I’m so-!”

His ongoing rambling speech was cut to a halt as he felt something, a claw like hand tug at his ankle. Tord doesn’t even get a chance to cuss the other out before he’s being pulled and dragged into the water underneath his feet. He’d unknowingly stepped so close to Tom that he practically almost submerged himself into water.

Tom lets out a roaring laugh, the water splashing around his face and wetting his hair a bit. He keeps a hold on the Norwegians armpits and hoist him back up, not wanting to accidentally drown the poor man to death.

The Norwegian raised his head, his chin just barely above the surface of the water as he stared at Tom with full blown panic. His strawberry blonde hair plastered flatly onto his head, and Tom was able to now see the full length of it. It went down gracefully past his shoulders, and he had the urge to twirl one of the strands around his finger-if he could of course.

Tord tried to blink away the beads of water that had collected onto his long lashes, his mouth slightly agape as he gasped for short spurts of air.

His clothes were weighing him down and Tom’s clawed hands are the only thing keeping him from accidentally sinking downwards.

The Norski had barely let himself fully recollect himself before he’s pulling away, his wet brows furrowing again in rage, “Hva er galt med deg!”

Tom seriously had no idea what he’d said, but he pulls the other back forcefully.

“I couldn’t find another way to keep you quiet.” The Brit starts, before shushing the other and continuing with what he was saying, “-look Tord,” god it felt weird using his first name and not something snarky, “..I know we haven’t been on the best terms, but I care about you. I know I’ve been the biggest douche bag to you, but I always hated how I felt around you. How you of all people made me feel something others could not. It’s why I pushed you away, because I just didn’t want to get attached and risk getting my feelings hurt in the process. I was scared you leave like the rest, and even more now that you know the darkest parts about me. So if I pushed you away, I wouldn’t be so upset if you up and left because it was my doing.”

He carries the Norwegian back to shore, setting him down onto the dirt as he kept a bit of space between them.

Tord doesn’t say anything at first, he just kind of looks around before he’s letting his entire body slam into the ground behind him.

And then he’s laughing aswell, his stomach bouncing slightly as let’s the laughter bubble out of him.

The laughter soon dies down, and the Norwegian continues to lay there with his arms extending at his sides, the now moist dirt stinking to his clothes. “I always thought I did something wrong. That maybe I just wasn’t amusing enough for you. But this, this is rich.” He whispered out, grinning from ear to ear as he peeled open his eyes.

Now he was finally able to get a better look at the sky, for the stars were in fact out tonight, and they scattered like white paint over a black canvas. It was a sight, a beautiful sight that always had Tord gushing like a hopeless romantic.

The full moon looks like a giant cheese ball, he notes, as he props his elbows onto the dirt and heaves himself up. (God he’s a fatass)

Tom hadn’t said anything after that, but he did in fact, continue to stare at Tord the whole time. Their eyes met again, and the Brits ears perked up a bit unknowingly as his roommate softly smiled.

The Norwegian raised an arm above his head as he pulled the hem of his signature hoodie upwards, trying to pry away the clothing that clung tightly to his skin.

The eyeless Brit could only watch as the other undressed himself, tossing the red hoodie carelessly to his right as he made move to remove his grey shirt. Tom decided to look away, instead staring a bit too hardly at the water that cascaded down onto the marbled stones.

“I’m not a female. You didn’t have to look away.” Tord’s voice reasoned, laughing lightly again as he stood up to unbuckle his pants. “How’s the water?” He asks, shimmying out of his way too tight dark black skinny jeans.

“It’s nice..”

“Make room for two.” Tord stated simply, tossing his clothes carelessly to the side.

Tom hated to admit,

But he smiled so hard when he heard the splashing of water right behind him.

[elisaphoenix13]

Saving The Parents

Tony woke with a pounding head and blurred vision, and absolutely no idea where he was. When his vision cleared though, his watch and sunglasses were missing and he found himself on some unforgiving concrete flooring.  Every bone and muscle in his body was protesting having to lay on a hard surface that he probably hadn't even been on for more than ten minutes.

A quick look around his concrete prison revealed that he was alone and that was what made his heart clench. He was with Stephen when (Tony assumed) they were drugged and grabbed on their way to a charity gala, and his husband was nowhere to be seen. It was unlikely that they only took the engineer. Even dumbass kidnappers would know to use the sorcerer against him. It wasn't exactly a secret that they were married. Tony just really hoped that Peter was still safe at home.

Shit, he fell deep into the parenting hole. Here he was, being held hostage for some asinine reason, and he was worrying about Peter. That wasn't bad but he felt that unless he had evidence that the teen was in danger, he should be worrying more about himself and Stephen. Definitely Stephen. He didn't care about himself right now. He needed to know where the sorcerer was and if he was okay.

He found out about ten minutes later that the doctor was not okay. The door to his windowless room slammed open and Stephen was thrown in where he fell to the ground in a bloody heap. The door was closed before Tony could get a look at their captors, so he turned his focus back onto his bleeding husband.

"Fuck."

That single word was an enormous understatement for their situation. When Tony managed to crawl over to the motionless sorcerer, he felt bile rise in his throat when he saw the man's injuries. Stephen was undoubtedly tortured for either information he didn't have or even just because he was married to the billionaire, and that thought made Tony swallow back his body's second attempt to vomit.

He tears open the doctor's bloodied shirt to find the worst of the injuries and he shrugs off his blazer to apply pressure to worst of what looked to be stab wounds. It definitely wasn't the only way Stephen was tortured. There were burn marks everywhere he could see skin, his hair was wet, and there were lash marks--

"Oh baby...I'm so sorry, and it's going to suck, but I really need you to wake up." Tony says as he lightly slaps Stephen's cheek. Thankfully, the sorcerer does wake up but the engineer's heart breaks when he comes to with a whimper. "I know. I know. I need you to focus your magic on your wounds and heal yourself. That's a thing right?"

"Don't..." Stephen mumbles incoherently. "...sleep..."

"No. No! No sleeping! You will not wake up! You're bleeding too much!" Tony panics until Stephen weakly reaches up and grabs his bicep.

"Tony. Don't let me sleep." He chokes out. "Not...not until I...heal myself."

Tony nods and watches carefully over the next (what felt like) hour as the worst of Stephen's wounds close, only having to lightly smack the sorcerer back to attention twice. When Stephen finally finished, and vocalized the fact, Tony gently pulls him toward the far wall and sits against it, letting Stephen lay his head in his lap. The sorcerer fell asleep in seconds.

In the midst of Tony's panic, he didn't fail to notice that Stephen was tech free as well. He really wanted to know if the sorcerer knew what was going on, but he didn't have the heart to ask him anything when he was in so much pain. Something Tony would fight to never let happen again. If their captors came back thinking they could just take Stephen again, they had another thing coming.

Tony sat there for a long time. He couldn't say how long, since there were no windows to show if it was night or day, hell, he didn't even know if it was still the same day they were taken. He may very well have been out for twenty-four hours and their captors got sick of waiting and took Stephen while he was unconscious. He was getting tired again but he wouldn't sleep. Not when Stephen was vulnerable.

It was hard anyway because the concrete floor and wall were hurting his ass and digging into his back. There would be no sleep for him

_______________

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

Peter wanted to yell at his spider senses because he knew something was wrong. Tony and Stephen never came home from the party or whatever it was they went to and for once, Peter wished his parents had shoved him into a three piece suit and made him go with them. They hadn't called or texted with a change of plans, something they always did, so the teen's worry was through the roof. It actually took him a good hour to even think about telling the team and tracking his parents after he woke up that morning and found their bed empty. He asked FRIDAY if they had gone somewhere, but the AI stated they never came home.

So now the team was sitting silently in the living room while both FRIDAY and Victor tracked their corresponding humans, and Peter alternated between pacing and sitting to bite his thumb. The biting was quickly stopped by Bucky who would pull his hand away whenever Peter's fingers inched toward the teen's mouth and the former sergeant ignored the glares directed at him. So the vigilante stuck to pacing until FRIDAY finally spoke up.

"I managed to track Boss and the doctor approximately ten miles from town but then something interfered with the equipment."

"Look for any bunkers or warehouses near where you lost the signal." Rhodey orders.

"Sending satellite images to the tablet now." FRIDAY responds.

Rhodey picks up Tony's tablet from the coffee table before Peter can, and pulls up a hologram of the pictures. "These are all legitimate bases for SHIELD and...wait..." The colonel zooms in on a group of trees to show a well hidden part of a building. "FRIDAY...is that building still abandoned?"

"Yes Colonel. No one has bought it yet."

"That's our best bet. We'll take the Quinjet."

"Alright. Everybody suit up. Bruce stay here in case they might need medical attention." Steve orders and Bruce nods before leaving to stand-by in med-bay.

Rhodey turns to Peter when the teen's suit covers him. "Peter--"

"You can't leave me behind!" Peter blurts.

"I know kid. I just want you to promise that if I tell you to leave...then you leave. Alright? I'm responsible for you right now." Rhodey says calmly.

"Yeah...okay. I promise. I swear." The teen agrees and the colonel claps him on the shoulder.

"Good. Let's go get our idiots."

_________________

Their captors really were stupid enough to try to take Stephen away again, and Tony lost it. The moment the sorcerer was forcibly pulled from him, the engineer jumped to his feet and punched the man who held the sorcerer. He barely had enough time to stop his husband's imminent fall to the harsh ground and set him against the wall before the other men were swarming him and he was fighting again. When (not if, he told himself) they got out of here, Tony was going to thank Happy and Rhodey for forcing him to train with them (and eventually Clint and Natasha) so he didn't rely on his Iron Man armor.

Unfortunately his training only went so far when he was surrounded by four mini-hulks that were barely fazed when he hit them. Tony was pretty sure he was hurting himself more than them and the only reason the first guy dropped Stephen was probably because he was surprised Tony fought back. It was all short-lived when one of the men yanked Tony into a very tight chokehold and another grabbed the half-conscious sorcerer off the floor and held a knife up to him.

"Are you kidding me?!" Tony shouts. "Haven't you done enough to him? What is this about anyway? Money? Information?"

"Revenge." The billionaire's captor growls into his ear before pulling out a gun and shooting Stephen.

Tony yells out in alarm when blue eyes start to dull when the man holding the sorcerer throws him to the ground, and he freezes back up when the gun is turned on him.

"Revenge for those your weapons have killed or maimed." His captor continues. "So we will make you watch us slowly kill those you care about. Now that your husband is at death's door, we'll be going after your kid next."

The engineer fights to get out of the man's grasp. "Let me go!"

"No, Stark. You're going to stand here an watch him die."

Tony's anxiety went through the roof. One of his worst nightmares was coming true and there was nothing he could do. He couldn't call for his suit, or the team since he didn't have any of his tech, he wasn't strong enough to fight off the other men, and he had never felt so helpless in his life. Not even in Afghanistan. At least there he had a chance.

The screeching of metal breaks Tony out if his trance and the door to the room flies open to reveal a very angry Spiderman. White lenses look at Tony briefly and then turn to the dying sorcerer on the ground...and instantly turn black with red in the center. Instant kill mode. Peter was going to go against his personal standards for his own revenge. Tony couldn't let that happen.

"No! Humans! They're humans! You kill them then you're just lowering yourself to their level!"

Tony had never been so relieved to see white lenses come back. He was even more relieved when the vigilante turned his attention on the men in the room after webbing the gun out of the hand of Tony's captor, and knocked them all out. Peter's mask falls from his face, and both he and Tony rush to Stephen's side where Peter covers the sorcerer's gunshot wound with a compression web. Stephen was breathing heavily and when he coughed, some blood speckled the floor.

"E-Exit...wound..." Stephen gasps out.

Tony turns his husband onto his side as carefully as possible and almost sobs when he doesn't find one. Stephen couldn't heal himself if the bullet was still inside him.

The engineer turns him back to his regular position and gently cups his face. "We'll get you out of here. So you better stay awake."

Peter nods and holds back the threatening tears. "The others are here. We brought the Quinjet. I told them where we are so they're on their way."

"Peter..." Stephen whispers as he reaches up and pulls the boy's head down to his chest.

"You'll be okay Mum...please be okay..." Peter cries into the doctor's chest until Stephen's grip loosens and he looks up with red eyes to find blue eyes closing. "No!"

"Stephen! Stay awake!" Tony yells frantically.

The rest of the team arrive just as Stephen's hand falls to the ground and his eyes close, and Bucky rushes forward to pull the distressed teen away from the sorcerer. While he and Rhodey fight to keep Tony and Peter in their arms, Wanda and Steve move the unresponsive doctor out of the room and to the Quinjet. When Stephen was out of sight, the teen cried out his emotional pain that even Bucky got misty-eyed as he continued to hold the struggling boy back.

"He can't die! HE CAN'T DIE!"

_______________________

Tony and Rhodey exit the master bedroom and the billionaire shudders as he rubs his hand over his mouth, and his best friend leads him into the living room where the rest of the team was waiting. Stephen was rushed to the med-bay where Bruce and a few other doctors were waiting, and since Peter was still frantic, Rhodey had to sedate him. It was the only way to calm the boy down. He would have made himself sick if they let him wait for news about the sorcerer. Tony was barely hanging on as it was.

"Here." Natasha says as she hand over his and Stephen's missing tech. "We found them in one of the rooms. They had something built to scramble their signal."

Tony ignores his paranoia about being handed things and takes them. "Thanks Romanov." He mutters.

"He'll be okay." She says.

The engineer blinks back tears. "Will he? I watched him get shot! Bleed out! I watched my kid cry from fear of losing another parent and there was nothing I could do!" He shouts.

"Tones...dont make me put you down too."

Tony scoffs and slumps into an armchair. They all spent the next few hours in complete silence since the mechanic was refusing to respond to any of them. He just wanted to wait for news whether it was bad or good. The fact that Bruce was doing surgery meant Stephen had a chance of surviving, even if it was the slightest one.

Tony would take what he could get.

"Tony."

The billionaire's head snaps up from its resting place in his hands and he finds Bruce standing in front of the elevator. He and the rest of the team stand up as he walks over and the scientist rubs the back of his neck.

"It was touch and go for a while...but he'll be okay. Stephen will be okay." Tony covers his face and nearly collapses from relief as Bruce continues. "Peter saved his life."

"He saved both of our lives--"

"No...Tony...that compression web saved Stephen's life. Without it, he would have died either before leaving the building or enroute. Strange would not have made it to the tower otherwise."

"How long until my wife wakes up?" Tony asks quietly.

"An hour at least."

"Peter should be up soon. I'll go wait for him first then we'll go down to med-bay."

Bruce nods and makes his way back to the elevator to go back down to med-bay and Tony fights through his relieved trembles to walk back to the master bedroom. Tony opens the door and steps through, quietly closing the door behind him and walks over to the bed to sit next to Peter. He only had to wait another twenty minutes for the teen to wake up and doe-like eyes blink up at him.

"You drugged me." Peter mutters accusingly.

"Actually Uncle Rhodey did, but he just wanted to help." 

Peter plays with a stray thread on the comforter. "I-Is...is it just us now?" He whispers and Tony could tell he was desperately trying not to cry again so he reassured him with a small smile.

"No baby...Mom is going to be okay. You saved his life with your webs."

Peter looks back at him. "Can we see him?"

"Yeah. We might have to wait a while for him to wake up but we can sit with him if you want."

Peter nods and shuffles after his father once he climbs out of the bed, and Tony says nothing when the teen softly grabs the back of his shirt when they step onto the elevator. It was a simple reassurance for Peter that although Stephen was going to be okay, that Tony was still there and safe. When the elevator opened on the med floor, Tony leads his son into Stephen's room and only falters for half a second when he finds the sorcerer connected to a few more things than he was used to seeing when the team got severely injured. Peter didn't seem to notice the slight hesitation and Tony was grateful. He needed to look strong for Peter.

"Why don't we watch a movie while we wait for him to wake up?"

Peter simply nods and they drag a couple of seats over to Stephen's bed and they sit down to watch Ratatouille. About half an hour into the movie, the two jump when the sorcerer grumbles.

"If any of you cook with the help of a rodent, tell me now."

Tony and Peter jump to their feet, sending their chairs sliding back a couple of inches and they move closer to hover over the occupied bed. Stephen reaches up once again to cup Peter's cheek and smiles softly.

"I'm sorry for scaring you cub."

"You're so grounded." Peter replies with a wet chuckle and Stephen responds in kind.

"He's not the only one you scared asshole."

"Oh right. Myself. How could I forget?"

"You're hurt. I'm going to let that slide." Tony says as he leans down and kisses his husband. "On a scale from one to ten, one being hit by a truck and ten being held in the fiery pits of hell, how do you feel?"

"You don't believe in hell."

"Answer the question."

"Four. Hit by a truck and set on fire."

Peter frowns. "Should we get Bruce?"

Stephen smiles. "No. I'm healing myself as we speak." Both Tony and Peter open their mouths to tell him not to push himself but the sorcerer seemed to know what they were going to say. "Slowly. I won't overdo it. Peter, come cuddle while you can before Bruce comes back."

The teen laughs and carefully climbs on the bed to lay next to the sorcerer and Tony returns to his seat, with Stephen's hand in his. They return their attention to the movie, and Stephen falls asleep ten minutes into the second one when Bruce comes back to check on his patient. He opens his mouth when he finds Peter snuggled into Stephen's side, calmly watching the new movie, but decides to say nothing since the doctor was resting. Having Peter on the bed was probably Stephen's idea anyway. Those two were nearly attached to the hip. This family always found comfort with each other and he wasn't about to stop it.

"Don't you get tired of watching Disney movies and Star Wars?" Bruce asks instead.

Peter let out the most offended gasp in the history of America.

[kyberphilosopher]

Revenge of the Gray: Chapter 24

Description: Operation Ilum begins. 

Chapter Twenty Four

“Keres,” Aheka whispers in the dark. “Keres, wake up.”

          I stretch out, determined to keep my eyes closed in sleep. Regardless, I can feel my body slowly start to wake up, no matter how hard I keep my orbs shut. I hear Aheka shuffle away tiredly, entering the bathroom and putting the door into a near close. I peel my eyes open slightly, noting the room is still dark despite both of us being awake. My first thought is to ask what’s going on, if everything is alright. But then I know why she’s woken me up- we’re nearing the Mustafar system. Soon enough, Operation Ilum will be a go.

          I wince silently as I climb down the latter and choose my outfit for the day. The black, flexible tunic and pants that don’t require a bra. I put on socks and the supple, dark high kneed boots, tying my hair back into a braid. Aheka finishes in the bathroom, coming out topless and looking for today’s clothes. I’m too preoccupied with my own thoughts to really take in the sight.

          I splash my face with water in the bathroom, reapplying eyeliner for a small sense of style. It’s only after I reapply that I realize how stupid it was, but don’t bother to take it off because that would be even more stupid.

          Aheka and I leave the room both tired and alert. Silence sits between us, and not the comfortable kind. It’s the kind of quiet that comes before something terrible, something unsaid, something nobody wants to acknowledge. All of those things are true. Operation Ilum was terrible, neither of us wanted to think about it, so we didn’t acknowledge it. We probably should have, in hindsight. But we didn’t.

          “Hey Circe,” I say as I approach him in the control room. He sits in his chair in the cockpit, Mandalorian helmet on and gloved fingers wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. Circe nods to me silently in response, sharing in the solemn mood we’ve all grown to possess in response to today. “Are we almost there?” I ask quietly.

          Circe stiffens, then slowly turns his head towards me. I can’t see his face, but I can feel the look in his eyes. It’s one of grief and pain, but silent strength like he can’t be the one to admit it as he tries to hold it in. He nods slowly before turning back to the swirling blue tunnel ahead- hyperspace.

          I slowly back away, feeling the deep rooted darkness that’s washing over everything. It fills the pit of my stomach with emptiness and silence and gloom. I didn’t know what it was then. Now, I do. Too bad it doesn’t help me so much anymore.

          “Keres, come on,” Aheka insists, gently pulling my hand as I struggle to take my eyes from Circe’s back for whatever reason. I follow her to the cafeteria, which is filled with everyone participating in the mission.

          “Let’s go find a table,” Aheka says as she begins walking to the right. I scan the tables and the line for Adamus, finding him towards the back eating alone. As I suspected, he got about no sleep last night. The circles under his eyes, posture, and bedhead say it all. He hates himself for doing this. He doesn’t want to do this. And yet, he’s made a decision- I can sense it from across the room.        

          Aheka leans down next to him and says something before going off to join the line for food. I take my seat across from Adamus, whose eyes raise to meet mine. He doesn’t say anything, just stares, trying to hide the blame he feels towards me. He’s not hiding it well enough, of course, but he’s trying. It’s the thought that counts, right?

          “We still have the last meeting this morning, right?” I ask softly, dropping my gaze.

          Adamus nods and puts his fork down. “Yeah, in a few.” His voice is gravelly and low from tiredness, something I actually enjoy listening to for whatever reason.

          I would ask if he was okay, or how he slept, by I already know the answer to both questions. Adamus looks back down to his bowl of mush, then slowly back up at me. It’s almost like he wants to say something, but I know I can’t bring it up. He’s angry at me, so angry.

          “I think I’m gonna skip breakfast,” I almost mutter, “just go to the meeting room early. I’ll see you in a bit.” I start to get up but Adamus’s voice stops me.

          “Keres, wait.”

          I meet his eyes mid stand, watching them flicker between mine carefully. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

          “Alright,” I say, a little too casually for the depressing vibe between us.

          He takes a minute before he begins. “I think I’m going to be the one to stay behind.” I’m about to open my mouth, but Adamus continues. “I’ve already talked to the Admirals about it. Oden was very relieved.”

          “Are you sure you-”

          “Yes. My decision is final.”

          He holds my eyes, daring me to look away. The thought crosses my mind and stays there, lingering as I watch him and repeat his words in my mind. That was when I made my decision, but I couldn’t let him know. Not after he just told me he was going to have today be his last.

          “Alright,” I say evenly.

          “Once it’s done,” he says, “you’ll become the only General. I trust you’ll be able to handle it.” I nod. “You always did have a knack for strategy.”

          “Anything else?” I ask curtly, using my old apathetic tricks to keep him from reading my thoughts.

          “No,” Adamus replies, equally as serious. There’s another few seconds of silence between us as we look into the others eyes. “I’ll see you later, Keres.”

          So I move along, feeling my decision solidify itself in my mind.

          Adamus joins me and the Admirals in the room shortly, interrupting a conversation between Sirsal and myself.

          “So, today’s the day,” he had said as he approached me, hands clasped behind his back as he puffs his chest out sensibly. I said nothing, only eyeing him with clear distrust.

          “I would like to thank you for your commendable attitude,” he said, voice unwavering but still snobby.

          “Really?” I genuinely wonder, raising my eyebrow. Sirsal nods, standing silent. The air between us is respectful for once. But then Adamus enters the room and does his usual greeting of “Good morning men,” and Sirsal and I take a step apart.

          “To go over the plan a final time,” Adamus begins, zooming in on the image of the three Star Destroyers above the holotable. “Soon, we’ll be in the vicinity to the Makers Thrall. While the other two destroyers are focused on our troops, General Vagor and myself will take our battalion and retrieve whatever information we can find in the control room. After that, I’ll stay behind to take the ship out, as well as the base on Endor.”

          There are no questions.

          The coms crackle overhead, and then Circe’s voice rings out across the ship. “We’re coming out of hyperspace. General Adamus has given the order for all troops to report to their stations for attack. I repeat: all troops report to stations for attack.”

          Outside the door, the muffled sound of feet hitting the floor floods my hearing. Adamus sighs out tiredly and stands up. “An honor to serve with you,” he says, meeting the eyes of the men in the room.

          “And you,” Sirsal says, serious but meaningful. The two exchange a curt nod, and then Adamus and I leave the room.

          As soon as the door slides closed behind us, my hearing implodes. Everything is louder, closer. My heart beat echoes throughout my ears like a bell ringing over and over. Adamus examines the last soldier jogging down the hallway, adjusting their aviator gloves as they do so. “Come on,” Adamus says, following them.  

          We make it to the control room, which is filled with everyone who won’t be involved today. I can see Circe’s back in the cockpit, and hear the hum of panicked conversation. The ship rocks as the blue shades fade out from the large window, replaced with one of the most beautiful sights I’ve ever seen.

          The horizon is dotted with stars against the black ink of space. In the middle, a planet sits, bright and violent. The orange-red planet glows with brutality. I can see every individual stream of lava and heat clash and blend together, roaring with intensity and darkness. In front of it, three Star Destroyers hover- gray, still, serious. The biggest one- the Thrall, looks menacing even from the distance, although it’s not so different from the smaller ones. I don’t know why, but the sheer strength and might of the whole scene is so appealing to me. It’s all so… contrasted. Violent, abhorred, hated, uniform. It’s the Empire.

          “We’re here,” Circe says over the coms. I’m about to step forward to him, talk to him- but the ringing in my ears makes everything seem so slow. My legs, feeling like jelly, move in slow motion. My hearing grows dull and slurred together, followed by a long, high pitched ringing that I don’t fully process as annoying.

          “Keres.”

          I keep my eyes on Circe, watching his head turn over his shoulder to acknowledge me. Mur?

          “Keres!” A hand wraps around my wrist, another snaking around my forearm. I whip around, the ringing in my ears abruptly stopping as I see Aheka’s pale green eyes. I am taken aback at the sight of her after the ringing and the slow motion feeling that just engulfed me. She appears to have no memory of it and instead looks into my eyes.

          “You weren’t really planning on going out there without saying goodbye, were you?” she asks, tone both joking and curious. Goodbye?

          “Of course not,” I decide, shoulders relaxing as I take in her features. The red skin, the regal white diamond design. The full lips, tall horns signaling her coming into her own. The long lashes, the stark white medical uniform. She looks beautiful, as usual. I never realized until that moment how much seeing her comforted me.

          “You’ll be safe, won’t you?”

          Aheka has stunned me again with her words. I know I should be used to it by now, but how many people have I encountered that actually showed me kindness? Aheka makes me stop and pause, question everything I think I know about people. She gives me an example of the good- the pure good- and takes no credit.

          “Only for you,” I say, smiling playfully to reassure her. While the gesture seems to calm the feeling in her heart, it does nothing for my own.

          She looks like she wants to tell me to shut up, but chooses different words instead. “I’ll see you soon, right?”           “Yeah,” I say. “Soon.”

          The air between us slows. In that moment, there is no one else in the galaxy but her. I almost want to say something romantic to her, something about how much I really care about her, or how much I owe her. The words don’t come out. Instead, Aheka reaches her arms around my neck, pulling my body to hers in an embrace.

          My eyes go wide for a second, then slowly relax as I breathe in her scent. It has not changed since the day I first met her: cinnamon and warmth and medicine. I stare off into space lowly as I wrap my arms around her in return, adjusting my head as to not hurt her lekku. And then I know what it’s like to not want to leave someone. I want to beg her to let me stay, to have me forever but I know better. How crazy would I appear if I did that right now? No, I won’t mess up this memory for her. I squeeze her waist a little as I melt into her arms.

          One word comes to my mind. Friend.

          I see Adamus turn around some paces ahead and looks at the scene. I meet his eyes and reluctantly pull away from the Togruta. “I’ve got to go,” I say, hiding the emotion I feel. Aheka smiles softly, reading right through me.

          “Stay safe, Keres,” she says. I peel away from her, feeling the warmth leave my skin as I begin walking away. The jelly leg feeling spreads to my stomach, and I almost want to double over and vomit right there.

          Adamus and I begin our jog again. I throw my head over my shoulder to get one last glance at the Circe, to find he’s already watching me. He nods seriously, acknowledging me. It’s a silent, vague salute that tells me he knows exactly what’s going through my mind. I don’t have the time to do anything in return though. We’ve already entered a new hallway that will lead us to the hanger.

          We reach it. I look around at the room, now busy and full as people climb into ships. The ships are a little janky, but they’re quick. It’s not like we can afford too much better anyway. Above us, the door we’ll be exiting through is closed and shiny.

          “This way,” Adamus says. We trade our jogging for brisk walking, making our way all the way to the back. Two Jedi fighters wait for us, one blue and white and the other deep brown and white. They have the same swirling kind of pattern painted on, though it looks a little old as the paint is chipping slightly. I recognize the ship from all the times I scrapped them back on Bracca.

          Oh, how silly of me it seems to have called Bracca my home for so long now.

          Adamus jumps into the blue and white fighter, pressing the buttons necessary to make the glass top slide over and into position, sealing him inside. I follow his movements, remembering all the controls Circe taught me. I place my headset on, Adamus’s voice crackling through my ears.

          “Alright,” he begins. “Opening hanger doors in ten seconds. Begin tagging in.”

          “AV-1, standing by.”

          “AV-2, standing by.”

          I switch on the engine, getting ready to put the thrusters into acceleration.

          “AV-7, calling in.”

          “AV-8, standing by.”

          I breathe out slowly, attempting to calm myself as my nerves explode a million times over. Above us, the hanger doors begin to open as warning noises flood the speakers.

          “AV-11, standing by.”

          “AV-12, reporting. Over.”

          “Alright, battalion,” Adamus says. “Today we show the Empire who they’re messing with. Everybody ready?”

          There is silence, then a male voice breaks it. “Ready to follow you, sir.”

          I look over to Adamus’s ship, and see him freeze up. Then a small, glad smile spreads across his pink lips. He reaches up and smooths his soft locks back out of his face, even though they fall back into place again almost immediately. “May the force be with you.”

          The ship shakes and trembles as the doors above fully open. I can see the stars and one of the lesser Destroyers overhead. “Sector one, engage,” Adamus commands. A large group of ships some leagues ahead of me raise into the air and zip out of sight. These are the ones acting as our distraction, which Adamus insists will be okay. “Let’s go, battalion. Engaging in three, two, one.”

          I press on the accelerator, pushing my steering wheel up and flying into the air. The ship shakes slightly, but that’s normal for this model and age. My fighter exits the hanger, revealing the destroyers and the stars and the Mustafar system. The distraction ships fly rather erratically, and it doesn’t take long for the ship to my right to take notice. A swarm of tie-fighters spill out from below, swiftly drawing closer.

          Ahead, the Thrall sits. I can see my entrance point- the blue shield to their own hanger. I know they won’t send anybody out though- they’ll leave the lackey ships up to that.

          “On your right, Keres!” Adamus warns in my ears. I glance in the direction, seeing a tie-fighter heading straight towards me, ready to flank. Green streaks fly out from the sides.

          Trusting my instincts, I push my wheel down and dive. “Keres!” Adamus yells.

          “I’m alright,” I promise. “I can shake him.” I change my position and roll my fighter over, avoiding the stream of shots. Then, effortlessly, I flip my fighter back behind the fighter and zip away. Adamus has given me, personally, direct orders to only take evasive action in the skies. At least I can respect that, right?

          I rejoin the battalion and continue making a straight line for the blue shield of the Thrall.

          “We are nearing our target. Be ready.” Adamus presses his fighter to surge forward, me close behind.

          “Copy that, General.”

          “Adamus,” I say into my headset. “We’re moving too fast. We won’t be able to slow in time for a clean landing.”

          “What do you suggest then?” Adamus replies, eyes focused ahead.

          I can’t help the small, almost sadistic smirk that crosses my face. “Crash landing.” I put my fighter into full speed, and in the blink of the eye I pass through the Thralls shield and scrape against the floor.

          The sound that comes from it is absolutely terrible. Adamus’s ship follows mine, sliding just as roughly but hitting the wall. The rest of the ships follow, none of them crashing like we did.

          I blink once, twice, listening to my beating heart. Did… did I really just do that? I flew across space in a Jedi fighter, just to crash into an Imperial mothership. It’s exciting, horrifying, and everything I love. Not to mention, completely destructive.

          “We’re in,” Adamus says. He throws his headset off and slides his case open. Hopping out, he jogs to meet the soldiers who spill out of their own ships. I follow his lead, heart fluttering with excitement.

          “Everyone alright?” I call out.

          Adamus sighs. “No. Is your arm alright, Janus.”

          “I, uh, I think it’s broken,” a young man moans. I would feel more guilt for my reckless suggestion if he had actually died instead of just hurt his arm, but alright.

          “Stay behind,” I tell him. “Signal us if you see anything off. Adamus, we gotta go.”

          Adamus nods and addresses the rest of the men. “Operation Ilum is a go,” he says. I see his eyes flicker across all of his soldiers, taking in their features because he thinks it’s the last time he’ll ever see them. I don’t tell him that he’s wrong, and to relax.

          “Let’s move out,” he says, removing his lightsaber from his belt and switching it on. The purple light casts the color across his features. It shows off his soft skin, his faint freckles, and the determined look in his eyes. He looks exceptionally handsome- I don’t even deny it.

          I smile, proud to follow him.  

[lord-explosion-baku]

Shooting Stars part 1

Bakugou x reader

Warnings: fluff, swearing

A/N: I went overboard with the text block thing again so I sadly have to split this up to two parts. I’m not a huge fan of Part 1 but part 2 is aight. Also sorry I haven’t been posting as much as usual. The old lady I work for is in a hospital in Brazil and I don’t speak Portuguese and Life is tough.

Your bare legs were laid over Jirou’s while the two of you were on one of the dorm couches watching some far too early holiday movie with Kaminari and Bakugou because there was nothing better on. Earlier that day you had watched Jirou, the boys, and a few others practice playing their instruments in her room. You don’t know why Jirou asked for you to watch but you were glad that you did! She didn’t think so but she was very talented.

You glanced up at her and her eyes slid over to yours. You thought to yourself that you should hang out with Jirou more often.

Something on her cheek caught your attention and you sat up, leaning closer to her face to inspect the small black fleck.

“Hmmm,” You said, reaching out to caress her cheek.

Pink was already dusting across her face. “...what?”

The tip of your index finger gingerly touched the fleck and it stuck to you. You brought it out in front of her and said “eyelash!”

“Oh,” she glanced at the long lash you were holding out to her and back to you. “I’m glad that didn’t get in my eye.”

You wiggled your finger in front of her face, “so now you can make a wish!”

She narrowed her eyes at you, not understanding.

You laughed, “you know... When you find a stray eyelash, you blow it away and make a wish on it! ...right?”

Bakugou, sitting on the floor, scoffed from below you. “That’s shooting stars, dumbass…”

Oof. It was your turn to blush. Bakugou was always so quick to shut down any cutesy things you had to say. It wasn’t that you cared so much about what other people said to you but you had some weird desire to be liked by Bakugou. That didn’t stop you from rolling your eyes and ruffling his hair with your free hand. “You can make wishes on a ton of things, hotshot! And lonely lashes are one of them,” ignoring Bakugou’s attempts to swat your hand away, you turned your attention back to Jirou. “Now, I’d blow it away myself but I’m not in the business of taking people’s wishes away.”

You prompted Jirou to close her eyes and she delicately blew on the tip of your finger, causing the eyelash to fly off and flutter down out of your sight. She grinned and you asked what she wished for.

Her blush deepened “If I tell you then it might not come true.”

“Awww that’s not fair!” You laughed, lightly pushing her shoulder. “Well now I want to make a wish! Mind checking me for any eyelashes?”

You straightened your posture and pulled your hair out of your face. Jirou placed her finger on your chin and tilted your head every which way. Her eyes found your lips and you grinned. “Anything?”

“Tragically, no,” her hands didn’t leave your chin and from the corner of your eye, you could see Kaminari gawking at the both of you.

You grabbed Jirou’s hands, pulling them away and shot Kaminari a look. “You know if ya keep staring, your eyes will fall out your head!”

Bakugou doubled up with you on him. “And if you don’t shut that damn mouth, flies will get in!”

Kaminari cast you a sheepish grin. “I wasn’t staring at anything!”

“Sure, sure.” You pushed off the couch with Jirou’s hand still in yours and excused yourself to the kitchen to make snacks.

From the kitchen you could hear Bakugou’s rumbling voice say, “the fuck were you even staring at anyways?”

“Dude…” Kaminari answered pointedly.

After a few minutes of you and Jirou dancing around each other, shoving food into one another’s mouths, you made some surprisingly good salsa concoction and the two of you returned to the living room to witness Kirishima enter through the second door.

“What are we watching?” He asked, hanging over the empty couch.

“L/N and Jirou teasing us by nearly kissing,” Kaminari snorted, not knowing that you had returned.

Bakugou promptly grabbed a pillow from the couch and shot it straight for Kaminari’s head, knocking him back to the floor. “Do you ever shut the hell up?!”

You stood next to Kirishima, rubbing his back to let him know you were there. “Nobody is teasing anybody,” you said, winking at the blushing Kirishima. You crawled over the head of the couch and sat, cross legged, at the spot you were on before, right above the fuming blonde. “But Bakugou doesn’t know how to wish on things.”

Bakugou clicked his tongue in annoyance, “I just don’t wish on stupid things.”

“Uh-huh,” you dipped a chip into your creation and zoomed the snack over to Bakugou’s lips. “Try this, it’s terrible.”

“No.”

There was a slight twinge in your chest. Sure, it wasn’t a big deal but you weren’t all that used to rejection. Bakugou confused you. He was mean, loud, and aggressive and you shouldn’t have liked him but you did and you wanted him to like you back! Everyone else seemed friendly enough towards you, what was his deal? You constantly found his eyes fixated on you but when you would return his stare, he would scowl back or yell at you for something that didn’t matter. You figured only friends would sit around and watch shitty movies together but maybe he had nothing better to do…

“Alright,” you turned to Kirishima whose brows were narrowed on Bakugou. “It’s really not that bad. Will you try it, Kiri?”

After giving it a sniff, he wrinkled his nose at it but you gave him your best pout you could and after a couple seconds, he let you plop the chip in your mouth. His eyes began to shine. “It’s not that bad at all!”

A success! Triumphant, you turned back to the movie, sharing your food with Kirishima. After a few minutes you handed the bowl over to Jirou and without thinking about it, you wove your hands through Bakugou’s soft spiky hair.

He didn’t swat you away.

~

“I don’t think you need to worry about it. She’s like that with everyone!”

Oh? Your ears perked up when you heard Kirishima’s voice from inside the training room. You cracked the door open and felt the heat of a recent sparring match on the air.

“I’m not worried about anything! I just think it’s annoying!” Bakugou shot back to Kirishima, obviously flustered. Who were they talking about?

Through the crack of the door you could see Kirishima give Bakugou a knowing glance.

“Stop that!” Bakugou yelled. “I already told you, I don’t have a damn crush on-!” He tensed. Slowly his head turned towards the door. You walked in, trying not to be weird about it.

“Somebody needs to put a bell on you. You always like peeping in on people’s private conversations, pipsqueak?”

You smiled politely at the boys. “Sorry, I thought nobody would be in here! Gotta train, you know?” The boys stared back at you. Kirishima was smiling but Bakugou’s look was absolutely menacing. You obviously came at the wrong time. Oh well. “Anybody wanna spar?”

Kirishima brought his hand to the back of his neck. “I would but my ass just got handed to me by Bakugou,” he laughed, trying to ease the tension in the room.

You looked at Bakugou, extending your invitation to him, hoping he wouldn’t bite your head off.

“No.” TWINGE. Again your heart fell.

You forced yourself to smile but you were sure you looked just as pathetic as you felt. “M-maybe some other time, then,” shut up, shut up, shut up, “I still gotta get you back from our last match!”

You liked challenging Bakugou. He never went easy on you like you were sure the other guys in your class did. By fighting him, you could test and stretch your strength and your limits.

“Don’t hold your breath,” was all he said. He was so frustrating!!

Stay cool, Y/N. “Okay, I get it. You’re scared I might beat you.”

There was a different twinge but it wasn’t in your heart. It was on Bakugou’s face. It was contorted in a way where he was showing all his teeth, the scarlet of his eyes absolutely glowing with passion… or hatred. “Yeah, okay shitty girl, I’ll fight ya,” he growled through his teeth.

You couldn’t help but smile back. He wasn’t really smiling at you but this was the first sort of recognition he had showed you in days. You through your training bag on the floor. “Alright! It’s me and you, Hotshot!”

“You ready to die or what?”

With that, you sprinted towards him. Instantly his right hand was brought up and sparks started to ignite from his hand. You ducked under that and slid between his legs, hooking your hand on his left leg, causing him to sprawl over.

He rolled back to a standing position and sent a blast your way. Using your quirk, you teleported behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. He has seen you do that before so he jabbed his elbow back but it was too slow. You teleported yourself on top of his shoulders.

“Hey maybe after I beat you, you can make a wish on a star or whatever to be strong enough to beat me!” You used your weight to topple over, pulling him by your legs to go down with you.

Before you hit the ground, Bakugou sent a blast at the floor, blowing the both of you into the air. He grabbed your leg and threw you off of him, sending another blast your way. You zapped yourself out of the air but landed on your feet wrong.

You lost your focus and Bakugou hand you instantly pinned to the ground, his knees on either side of your body, his hand threatening get you with the light of his gloves. The both of you were panting but you couldn’t help but notice Bakugou watching the rising and falling of your chest.

“That’s two to zero. I don’t need to make any wishes to beat you,” he breathed before standing back up. He offered you a hand up but your over confident ass zapped yourself up without hesitation. He beat you far too fast and you didn’t want to seem like you weren’t entirely wiped out.

“Just keep tellin’ yourself that, hotshot.”

Part 2

Tags for EVERYTHING (closed): @yandere-inamorata @miitaart @dessiedawnwritesfanfiction @wickedlewicked @chickennuggetsarequestionable @nevermorelanore @kpanime @ayeputita @captain-sin-allmight-queen @diisasterbii @iceformer @meganofmars @colagirl5 @colorbookshd @grimmjadeskye @sm0kingcrack @sarcastictextstuck @zellllyyyy @psionicsnow @mynahx3 @andie-in-tumblland @iamthe-leaf @midnightfeline666 @bungou-stray-alies-tales-of-aly -of-aly @rubyred-28 @kattariapenn @heypartypeps @quirktaker @thecryingsombra @smbody-stole-mycar-radio @ghost-of-todoroki @geektastic84 @personoffangirlingandtears @glixeo @rubycubix @mekakushi-dan-01-kido

[janethepegasus]

BMC Miraculous AU RP Thing: Stranded in the Desert

An RP me and @pika-ace did related to the BMC Miraculous AU, where an akuma leaves Jordan and Roger in a desert and they have to travel through it to find civilization.

(Roger was just walking by the street, but then all of the sudden, a van zooms up towards him and stops by him. The van door opens and vines lash out towards him) Roger: Wha-AH!! (The vines wrap around him, yank him into the van, and the van drives off) (Meanwhile with Jordan, he and Eric were walking together, but then the van zooms towards them, with the driver's eyes being on Jordan)

(They see the car zooming towards them) Jordan: What the-?

(The van stops by them, the van door opens and vines come out of it and wrap around Jordan)

(Jordan gets yanked in and the van zooms away) Eric: JORDAN!!

(Jordan struggles in the vines) Jordan: Ack! Let me go! Roger: Jordan?! (Jordan looks and sees Roger struggling in vines as well) Jordan: You! >:/

Jordan: Oh fucking wonderful, we get kidnapped by the same asshole! >:/

Roger: Greaaat...i'm stuck with a suicidal idiot! >:/

Jordan: Yeah, and I'm stuck with a dumb lazy hunk of muscle; fuck off >:P

Roger: Excuse me?! >:( Jordan: Ya heard me! >:P (Suddenly, the akuma laughs) Akuma: Now now you two! Settle down back there, cause i'm gonna drive ya two to a FAR away place! >:D

Jordan: What are you up to?!

Akuma: You'll see once we get there! Now hang on tight! >:3 (The akuma steps on the gas pedal and he starts to drive REALLY fast, somehow zooming through the streets without hitting anyone or anything)

Roger: Jesus, slow down!! Jordan: What, can't handle a little speed? >:P Roger: Not when the driver is my kidnapper!! (The bickering continues for the whole ride)

(The akuma keeps driving for a while, until he stops, which cause Roger and Jordan to slam against the wall) Akuma: Okay, we're here! >:3

(Jordan and Roger don't hear him as they're still fighting)

(The akuma rolls his eyes, gets out of the van, walks to the door, opens it, and drags them out)

Akuma: Have fun getting home!

Roger: *blinks* Wait, what?! (They look around and they see that they're in the middle of the desert) Jordan: What the hell?! Akuma: Alright, heres some food and water for you *hands them some food and water* take this off of ya *cuts the vines off of them* and this too! *takes their

Miraculous* Jordan: Hey!! >:( Akuma: Aaaaaand some money! *gives them a couple of dollars and coins* Roger: Money? Why would we need money for? Akuma: Plane tickets, cause it's gonna be a LOOOONG way home if you traveled on foot! >:3c

Akuma: Well...bye! (He drives off)

(Jordan and Roger watch the van drive away from them)

Both: O_O

Roger: ...So this akuma kidnapped us...just so he could drop us off in the middle of nowhere?!

Jordan: Bastard!! >:(

Jordan: Now i'm stuck with a god damn living hunk of muscle! >:(

Roger: Oh fuck off! I didn't ask for this!

Jordan: Neither did i and yet here we are! >:/

Jordan: Let's just fucking find an airport or whatever, cause I want to go home to my husband! >:/

Jordan: He's probably worried sick that i'm not home... Roger: Ah yes, your husband. Didn't I help him improve him mentally and physically when you two did that split up thing? I'm sure he'll survive a whole day without you

>:/

Jordan: Yeah, but for that I wasn't KIDNAPPED! We were taking a break! There's a huge difference!

Roger: Well as long as we're not out here for more than a day, i suspect that Eric will try to keep himself somewhat calm

Roger: Let's just go >:/ Jordan: FINE!

(They start walking)

(They walk for a while, rest, and then walk again, repeating the process as best they could)

(During their walk, Roger's stomach starts to growl)

Jordan: Hungry? Roger: What gave it away? >:/

Jordan: Oh gee, i don't know, just instinct? >:P

Roger: Just give me some of that food that akuma gave us >:/

Jordan: Fine fine...

(Jordan opens the bag of food to see what they have) Jordan: We gotta ration this as best we can...

Jordan: So don't eat it all, okay?

Roger: Since when are you Mr. Survival expert? >:/ Jordan: I don't see YOU going on any long hiking or camping trips >:P

Jordan: Which i bet ya DON'T do, cause you're rooted in the city! >:P (Roger fumes and glares at Jordan)

(Jordan fiddles with the food before giving Roger a portion) Jordan: Alright, I've divided up about six days worth for both of us; if we don't find civilization soon we'll divide what we have left again so it lasts as long as

possible.

Roger: Alright then

(Roger eats the food and they keep walking)

(They walk for hours, but then the sun starts to set)

Jordan: We better find someplace to sleep

Roger: Yeah...

(They wander and happen to find a cave)

Jordan: We can sleep in there

Roger: Sounds good Jordan: Alright, settle in, I’ll be right back Roger: Where are you going? Jordan: Getting firewood; you’re a teacher, don’t you know the desert gets freezing at night?

Roger: I teach math and science! I don't know much about how environments work! >:/

Jordan: Oh gooood for you! Don’t go anywhere okay?

Roger: Okay

(Jordan leaves; a little while later he comes back to Roger shivering in the corner of the cave as the sun has fully set)

Roger: *shivers* O-O-Oh F-F-FINALLY y-you came b-back! >:/

Jordan: You try finding wood in the goddamn desert >:P (Jordan tosses the wood down) Roger: H-H-How...are y-y-you not FREEZING?! Jordan: I’ve been walking for hours, that’s why

(Roger glares at Jordan and pouts)

Roger: H-How d-do you p-p-plan on lighting- (Jordan rubs two sticks together with amazing force and a fire starts)

Roger: ...Oh O_O

(Jordan gives him a smug smirk)

Roger: Oh don't rub it in! >:/

(Jordan grins and they sit and get warm)

(Roger warms himself up by the fire, he looks up and sees Jordan with a smug smirk) Roger: Wipe that smug look off your face! >:/

Jordan: Sorry, can't help it; bet you never imagined a 'sacrificial red neck' as you call me would be saving your ass, right? XP

Roger: Oh shut up >:/

(They sit for a while and Roger eventually tries to doze off but finds he's still quite cold; Jordan watches him lying on the ground trying to ignore his shivering and

rolls his eyes) Jordan: Alright, c'mere. *he moves towards him*

(Jordan walks towards Roger)

(He makes to lie down next to him and Roger recoils) Roger: What the fuck are you doing?! Jordan: It's called body heat, asshole, it won't kill ya -_-

Roger: So you're gonna cuddle me to keep me warm?! >:/

Jordan: Yeah, smart-ass, that's how heat transference works and it's how people in the cold don't die in their sleep; I don't like it anymore than you do but it's our

best bet. And what are you so afraid of, I'm married! >:/

Roger: Well what if we're stuck out here for several days and you start hitting on me?! >:/

Jordan: One, why would I cheat on my husband? Two, why the fuck would I want to hit on YOU of all fucking people?? >:/

Roger: I don't know!! But it will happen if our sanity starts to dry out! >:/

Jordan: You really have THAT little faith in the others? Will SAW me get taken, he's probably already told everyone by now to go out looking for us or the akuma!

Roger: Well it's not MY fault i don't know the others more than you do! >:/

Jordan: Well maybe if you stepped outside your goddamn classroom every once and a while you'd learn the wonders of social bonds >:/

Roger: >:O Do you have ANY idea how stressful and time consuming working as a teacher is?! I spend SO much time trying to manage both my work for every week AND my

sanity from all those crazy teens! Of COURSE i don't have much time to take a break! Cause i'm spending so much time managing being a teacher!! >:(

Jordan: Oh bullshit, Will's a teacher too, and he still finds time for us or himself >:/

Roger: Well at least he doesn't work in a school where you handle over hundreds of students every day instead of just 15! >:P

Jordan: Have you considered getting ANOTHER teaching job, smartass? >:/

Roger: Oh like YOU know any teaching jobs that will satisfy you vision of me having time to do whatever you want me to do >:/

Jordan: Uh, Will’s school? Duh; they’re short on teachers

Roger: Oh THAT'S your only recommendation? Me going to the same school your husband works? No offense, but that school is BARELY hanging on to living another year!

Plus they don't have to support themselves unlike my school >:/

Jordan: Ugh whatever, stay at your shitty job, and go to sleep

Roger: Fine! >:/

(They both lie down and slowly drift off to sleep; the next morning, Roger is the first to wake up. The fire has gone out, the sun is up and...he’s curled up into

Jordan, Jordan’s arms around him due to them seeking warmth from each other in their sleep)

Roger: What the...?!

(Roger shoves himself away from him and Jordan blinks awake) Jordan: *yawns* Good morning to you too, asshat...

Roger: Why the fuck were you wrapped around me?! >:(

Jordan: *rubs his eyes* That’s what people do when they’re cold at night, they find something warm and go to it, even in their sleep. Jesus, you’re such a dumbass

outside your precious city...

Roger: >:O I am not!!

Jordan: Couldn’t even think about the heat transferred between two human bodies? Yeah you are >:P

Roger: You assume i NEVER had that kind of thing before?! >:(

Jordan: I feel like you haven’t had a lot of things; seriously you’re like the extreme version of Will I knew in college: moody, hot-headed, and pretty much helpless

when shit doesn’t go as planned and can’t adapt because he doesn’t know shit about friendship and social values >:(

Roger: You're comparing ME to your husband?! I am NOTHING like him at all!! >:(

Jordan: Not now you aren’t; my husband has come a long way; and I’m starting to think YOU’RE what he would’ve turned into if I hadn’t come along >:(

Roger: Well at least I know i won't turn into a male damsel in distress and have a reckless, stupid, suicidal red neck pretty much nearly killing himself just so i can

fucking live!!! >:(((

Jordan: Yeah and that makes you sooooo much better than me, why? >:(

Jordan: Tell me, why the FUCK do you think that you're better than me? Hm?! >:(

Roger: Because I can at least go into a fight knowing I’ll fucking live! Jordan: Yeah? Well I think because your job sucks and you got practically nothing to show for yourself throughout your life, not many people would miss ya if you died

>:( (Roger almost flinches at the harsh words)

(Roger glares at Jordan and fumes) Roger: Well...at least i still got a fucking family that i keep in touch with, such a shame you don't have that, cause they're all dead anyways! >:(

(Jordan freezes and Roger almost immediately regrets his words; Jordan then gets up) Jordan: Cmon, we gotta keep moving...

(Jordan walks out of the cave and Roger follows)

(They walk in silence for a while, Jordan taking the lead)

(Roger stays silent for a while, until he sighed and spoke up) Roger: ...Look, I’m...sorry for saying that, but you really went too far with what you said about me...so I just...fight back...

(Jordan is silent for a bit) Jordan: ...Alright, fair enough...this whole scenario is just frustrating beyond belief so...we’ve just been taking it out on each other...

Roger: Yeah...

(They keep walking) Jordan: I’m sorry too I guess...maybe we should call for a truce, at least for the really low insults; what do ya say? (Roger says nothing) Jordan: Aw c’mon, I’m trying to extend an olive branch here, don’t make me ask again! (He still says nothing and Jordan finally turns around) Jordan: Are you just too damn proud...to... (He looks down and sees Roger had sunken down into the sand, with only his hands and the top half of his head sticking out)

Jordan: Oh my god, Roger!!

Roger: Mmmmmmph!! (Roger’s hands flail as he panics) Jordan: Dont move, hang on!

(Jordan runs towards Roger)

(He grabs one of his hands and starts to pull) Jordan: Let me do the pulling, you’re fighting a losing battle against a sand vacuum here!

Roger: Mmmmmmph!!!

(Jordan slowly but surely pulls Roger out of the hole; the moment he’s able, Roger scrambles as far away from the pit as possible, breathing deeply)

Roger: Oh...thank...god...!

Jordan: You Alright?

Roger: Y-Yeah...i'm okay...

(He coughs and spits out some sand)

Roger: What...the fuck...did i fell into?! *coughs*

Jordan: Dry sand pit; it’s like quicksand but without the water

Roger: *cough* So i fell in a sand pit?!

Jordan: Yep; and they’re pretty rare so, lucky you XD

(Roger glares at Jordan)

(Jordan hauls him to his feet, only for Roger to squirm away from him)

Roger: Don't touch me! >:/

Jordan: Geez, Lighten up, man >:/

Roger: Just...hands off >:/

Jordan: Fine! >:/

(They keep walking, Roger brushing sand off him and his clothes as they do)

(Roger looks at Jordan and sighs) Roger: ......Thanks...for saving me...

Jordan: ...No problem; I may hate your guts, but you’re still my teammate

Roger: Yeah, that's true...

(They keep walking)

(They keep walking for a while, until Jordan suddenly stops) Roger: Hey, why did you- Jordan: Don't. Move Roger: Why? (Jordan gestures a rattle snake that was nearby)

(Roger sucks in a breath)

Roger: Oh god....!

Jordan: Calm down...just slowly move around and away...

(They slowly move around the snake)

(The snake watches them, it’s tail rattling)

(Roger whimpers a little as they slowly move around the snake)

Jordan: Dont panic! Roger: I’m not!

Jordan: Then why you're wimpering? >:/

Roger: Shut up!!!

(They keep slowly moving around the snake)

Jordan: Dont worry, they usually avoid humans...

(Once they were around the snake, they moved far away from it)

(Once it was gone Roger let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding)

Roger: Oh thank god...!

Jordan: Yeah...

Roger: Let's...keep moving...

Roger: Uh...is there anything else in the desert we should...watch out for? Jordan: Well, uh, there's scorpions. sandstorms, mirages, contaminated water, thorned plants, and of course weather things *gestures to the sun* but don't worry, I'll

get us out of this Roger: Who put you in charge? >:/ Jordan: The person who decided to throw you in a sand pit >:/

Roger: I FELL into a sand pit! Though i wouldn't be surprised that YOU would throw me in though >:P

Jordan: Don't tempt me >:P

(Roger glares at Jordan)

(They keep walking and the sun starts setting; both are breathing heavily, but Jordan is keeping up a decent pace while Roger's feet are dragging)

Jordan: *breathing heavily* It's gonna...be dark...soon...we should...find a place...to rest...

Roger: *breathing heavily* Y...Yeah...you do that...I'm just...gonna... *he starts to lie down where he is* Jordan: Dammit Roger this isn't what I meant!!

(Roger lays down on the ground)

Roger: So...tired...

Jordan: C'mon, get up! We can't just sleep here!

Roger: I can't...go on... (Jordan rolls his eyes and hauls him to his feet before slapping his face a few times) Jordan: Up and at 'em!!

Roger: OW!!

(Roger shoves him away and shakes his head, blinking awake) Jordan: Good; c'mon, we gotta find another cave or something

Roger: Alright...

(The night passes and the next day they repeat the process) Roger: There's GOT to be SOMETHING near by now!

Jordan: Yeah! We have to find SOMETHING out here! (They keep walking for a while, until eventually, Jordan spots, in the far far distance, he sees a road)

Jordan: Hey! Look! :D

Roger: What?

Jordan: A road! We're getting somewhere!

Roger: It might lead us to a town if we follow it! :D

Jordan: Or a car could come down it! :D (They hurry and start following the road)

(They follow down the road for a while, seeing cars pass by them as they went)

(They try waving a few of them down)

(They tried hitchhiking but all of their attempts were ignored by drivers passing by)

Jordan: Well at least there's a bunch of cars so something's gotta be close by now...

Roger: Yeah...

(They keep walking along the road and no cars come for a while as night starts to fall; because of this it becomes a lot harder to see anything along the side of the

road)

Roger: I can't fucking see anything...! XS

Jordan: That's kinda how night is -_-

Roger: Yeah i know that! But i'm not used to night being this...dark! Where's the lights?!

Jordan: This is why you city boys need to go camping once in a while -_-

Roger: Well some of us "city boys" don't have time to do that OR show no interest in doing so! >:/

Jordan: And look where that got ya >:/

Roger: Oh shut up! >:/

(Roger pushes him and walks ahead, but he’s so mad that he doesn’t see the rattlesnake until he steps on it)

Roger: *notices he stepped in something* Wha?

(He hears the rattling and at that moment, a car passes, the headlights illuminating the snake for a split second before it strikes and bites Roger’s leg)

Roger: GAH!!

(Roger falls over, clutching his leg) Jordan: Roger?! (The rattlesnake slithers closer to Roger)

Roger: Ow!! Fuck!!

(Roger screams and writhes on the ground and the snake readies to strike again)

(Roger sees the snake and closes his eyes shut)

(But the bite never comes; Roger opens his eyes to see Jordan stomping on the snake’s head, killing it)

(After Jordan kills the snake, he goes over to Roger)

Jordan: Jesus Christ... Roger: I-I’m Fine... Jordan: No don’t move! You’ll mix the venom around more!

Roger: Ow...call a hospital...! Or something...! Ow...!

Jordan: If our phones had service here don’t you think I would’ve done that by now?! >:/

Roger: Well what the fuck are YOU gonna do, huh?! >:/

Jordan: Obviously I’m gonna carry you Roger: Wha- wait! (Jordan manages to get Roger onto his back in one fell swoop)

Roger: Hey!! >:/

Jordan: You can’t move around, the poison will get to your heart quicker that way; suck it up

(Roger sighs)

Roger: Just...hurry and find someplace...

Jordan: Alright

(Jordan jogs along the road with Roger, looking for any sign of civilization)

Jordan: C’mon, there’s gotta be a town somewhere!

(As Jordan moves, Roger gets more and more light headed as the venom starts to take effect)

Roger: Ugh...I don’t...feel so good...! XS

Jordan: You’re gonna be fine!

Jordan: Just hang on!

(Jordan keeps jogging and Roger eventually passes out and at that moment, Jordan sees building lights)

Jordan: Wha?

(He sees a small town in the distance) Jordan: Oh thank god!

(He jogs as fast as he can towards the town)

(Hours later, Roger feels himself waking up)

Roger: Ugh...

(He slowly opens his eyes and finds he's in a small hospital room)

Roger: Wha...Huh...?

(He groans and slowly sits up; the door then opens and Jordan enters) Jordan: Look at that, he lives

Roger: Wha...? You...!

Jordan: Yeah, me

Roger: Wha...where- Jordan: You’re in a hospital, Roger, you’re lucky I found one

Jordan: Remember what happened? Roger: We...we were walking and...oh god, that snake-! Jordan: Yep, he got you good

Roger: I...I felt so light headed...then I passed out... Jordan: Yep, and then I found a town, got to the hospital and got you in.

Jordan: And since you've been out for *checks watch* a long-ass time, I went ahead and got everything else figured out Roger: Everything? Jordan: Yep; called Eric and the others to clue them in and booked us a flight home. The others took out the akuma so we don't have to worry

Roger: Oh...good

Roger: You...really did all that while I was out? Jordan: Well duh. There was NO WAY I was just gonna sit and mope over you >:/

Roger: Heh, guess you didn’t have any time for me, since you hate my guts! >:P

Jordan: Don't act like you wouldn't have done the same if it were me >:P

Roger: Oh please, if you were bitten by that snake, you’ll probably walk it off like it was nothing! >:P

Jordan: Eh, fair enough :/ (Jordan suddenly blinks and freezes) Jordan: Whoa...hold the fucking phone...did you just...COMPLIMENT me???

Roger: *blinks* Wait...I did?? O_O

(Roger thinks back on what he just said; he said that Jordan could walk off a snake bite, complimenting his strength and endurance) Roger: O_O Fuck, I did....

(Jordan’s eyes widen and looks at Roger)

Jordan: Holy shit...did hell freeze over? Roger: *blushes slightly* Shut up... Jordan: You fucking complimented me! Holy shit, I better see if the rapture's happening! Roger: *blushes more* Shut up...!!

(Jordan looks out the window) Jordan: Oh my god, it’s not! Roger: *covers his face and blushes* SHUT UP...!!!

Jordan: Oh this has made this whole three days of hell worth it! Wait 'till I tell Will about this when we get home!

Roger: Ugh... XS

(A day or two later, Jordan and Roger are on a flight home (Roger having crutches), where the armada are waiting for them in the airport)

(When the plane landed on their destination, they get out of the plane)

(They head out of the plane and once they're fully out, they see the armada) Jeremy: There they are!! Eric: Jordan! :'D Michael: Dad!! Momo: Roger!!!!

(Eric runs towards Jordan at top speed and tackle hugs him tightly)

(Jordan catches and spins him around before they both go for a deep kiss)

(As they deep kiss, Momo runs over to Roger) Momo: Roger!!! :D (Roger stops her from hugging or glomping him, but he gives her a little pat on the head)

Momo: Why do you have crutches?? D: (Meanwhile, Jordan and Eric break the kiss so Michael and Jeremy and Lin can hug Jordan tightly)

Michael: We missed you, Dad!

Roger: *to Momo* It's a long story... XS Jordan: I missed you all too!

(Jordan hugs them back and smiles)

Ann: Oh no Roger, should I transform and heal you? :( Roger: I don't think that will be necessary

Ann: Are you sure? Roger: Yeah, I’m fine, I can adjust to this

Roger: After a day or two I should be fine Momo: Are you gonna tell us what happened or not? >:/ Joe: I think we should all get home first and Jordan and Roger can explain from there

Jordan: Yeah *to Eric* And Will, you’re gonna be surprised what Roger said to me at the hospital! X3c Roger: Ugh.... XS

[kriscme]

One Life to Live

Hi, here’s the latest chapter.   Almost at the end.  This is also on A03 and will be easier to read.    I’m Kris22 over there.  I’d link if I knew how.  As always thanks for Ronja for allowing me to write fanfic of her Hunger Games fanfic “The Chance You Didn’t Take”.  You can read it on AO3 and FanFiction. Chapter 36 “. . . and so Blake’s wedding was called off.   And in the meantime, Celia’s been attending a therapy support group for sex addiction.  They think it’s caused by a fear of emotional intimacy or something like that.   I guess it’s because she’s been hurt.  You know, by Blake.  And that’s all I know.  I haven’t watched it in a while.” “And who’s that guy?” Peeta asks.  He’s referring to a man in overalls and a straw hat crouched in a field of what looks like withered lettuces.  He appears to be examining the soil.   “That’s Celia’s father, Mulch Chastely.” The camera zooms in and ominous music builds.  His hands are stained with a black, greasy substance.  “Oil!” he screams, as the music reaches a crescendo. He shakes his fist at the heavens. “The Knights will pay for this barbarous act!  You’re a dead man, Rigger Knight!”   Then it segues to Rigger Knight who is seated on the porch of the Knight family home as if in wait.   Across his lap is a firearm.  It looks like a bazooka. The scene ends with Mulch Chastely selecting a pitchfork from his arsenal of agricultural tools and marching with grim determination in the direction of the Knight property.   Peeta bursts out laughing.  I can’t help laughing at the ridiculousness of it either. “I told you it was stupid,” I say.

Next, we’re in a large room, mostly empty except for a circle of nine chairs spaced at regular intervals.   People start to trickle in and each of them takes a seat.  Celia is among them, wearing denim trousers and a blue sweater, her long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail.  She looks tired and dejected.  Last to arrive is a gaudily dressed middle-aged woman with bright yellow hair carrying a clipboard.  She’s accompanied by a younger man in expensive sports clothes.   When he sees Celia an expression of deep longing passes over his face.  Celia doesn’t look up. The woman with the yellow hair starts the discussion.  “Good afternoon, everyone.  We’re in for a big, big session!  We have new a member joining us.  I know you’ll make him welcome.  Blake, would you please introduce yourself and share with the group what’s brought you here today.”  

Celia starts at the name and her eyes widen with shock.  As Blake speaks, his gaze never leaves her face.

“My name is Blake Knight and I am an addict.  My addiction is Celia Chastley.  I was a goner from the moment I first laid eyes on her in her family’s orchard when were eleven years old.  She became my best friend, my confidant, the object of my adolescent masturbatory fantasies and my great love.  I didn’t understand you then, Celia, when you broke my heart when we were sixteen.  That you were sacrificing your happiness for mine.  That you recognized the impossibility of our situation when I did not. I shut my eyes and tried to forget you in the arms of another but I was deceiving myself.  I was a coward – too afraid to confront the reality of my undying love for you.  Please forgive me.  Give me a chance and I will prove my constancy and devotion.  To hell with our families. To hell with everything.  Our love is the only thing that matters in this crazy world.  Even now, as my father waits for yours to fall into his trap so he can shoot him dead and plead self-defense, our love will endure.  Will you, Celia?  Please say yes.  I love you so much.” The other members of the group are transfixed, eyes darting between Celia and Blake in mounting expectation.  Celia’s eyes are awash with tears.  She lurches to her feet and throws herself into his arms. “Oh, Blake!” she cries, “If I have only one life to live, I want it to be with you.”  They kiss.  The group stands and cheers.   It then goes to a commercial break for romantic getaways in District 4.  I look at Peeta.  He looks at me.  It’s as if we’re each looking to the other for how to react.  It was funny.  So why aren’t we laughing?  Plutarch’s words ring heavily in my ears, “You and Peeta are Celia and Blake.” “We’re really not like that, are we? “I ask.  “I mean it’s so . . . dumb.”   “No, not quite us, but there are a few things in common.  What Blake said to Celia is pretty much what I’ve been trying to say to you.” “Oh.” I say nonplussed.  Is that what he’s been doing?  “Um . . . which parts?” Peeta shifts closer to me on the sofa so that our thighs are touching.  “Adolescent masturbatory fantasies.” I pull back, frowning, hot words ready on my lips.  

He nudges my shoulder with his.  “It’s a joke.  Well, actually not quite a joke.  You did feature in them quite a lot.  But I was Blake.  Going around with my eyes shut, too scared to open them in case I remembered how much I love you and then to find out that you didn’t love me back.” “You love me?”  I don’t dare look at him. It’s been an impossibility for such a long time, I can scarcely believe it.  He was engaged to marry another woman not so very long ago.  How can this have happened so quickly?  “Since when?” I ask dubiously. If he was expecting a more positive reaction, he doesn’t show it.  He takes one of my hands in both of his. “Since I was five years old and you stood up in music assembly to sing the valley song.” I attempt to pull my hand back but he keeps it in a firm grip.  He can’t just whitewash the past two years like that.  Lace happened.  “Then what has Lace been about then?  She was just a figment of my imagination?” “No.  She was more like a figment of my imagination.  I don’t want to discount what I had with her.  She’s been a good friend and I’ll always be grateful but a lot of what I felt for her wasn’t real.    I’ve gone over this with Dr Aurelius, to make sense of it.   She was a coping mechanism in the same way my reluctance to deal with my past was also a coping mechanism.  I could give her the feelings I didn’t think you wanted.   So, she was sort of you, in a way.  I didn’t exactly have a high opinion of myself then either and she didn’t hold back on telling me how wonderful she thought I was.  I think I just wanted to make myself feel better.”

Sort of like a rebound then.  I want to believe him, I really do.  He’s turned to sit sideways, our knees touching, his face close to mine.  I look at him beneath my lashes.  He’s watching me carefully, with a mixture of hope and uncertainty.  Everything that I’m feeling. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he says. Be honest. “I’m scared.  What if what you’re feeling now isn’t real either?’ “I’m scared too.  Scared you’ll reject me and there’ll never be another chance. Katniss, I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life.” I turn away momentarily to collect my thoughts. As I do, the television screen comes into my field of vision.  Rigger Knight fires the bazooka at Mulch Chastely.  It misses his head by inches and zooms past to hit one of the oil rigs in the distance.  It explodes into flames and sets off a chain reaction until every one of the oil rigs is a massive ball of fire and thick black smoke.  Mulch’s face is a picture of glee until the billowing smoke is picked up by the wind and headed over the border towards his prized apple orchard.  The drama hasn’t ended for Celia and Blake.  And I know it hasn’t for Peeta and me either.  We still have things to work through.  And there’s also the television special and whatever fallout there might be.  But at least we can do it together.  

I let out a breath.   “Okay.” “Is that yes?” “Yes,” I answer, more firmly this time.  We both lean in and meet somewhere in the middle. A slow, getting-to-know-you-all-over-again kiss.  Soft, tender, shy.   This is real.   Not a daydream, not the reliving of a cherished memory, but real.  In between kisses he tells me he loves me.  And when I get the chance, I tell him I love him too.  Somehow, I end up lying on the couch with him half on top of me. The kisses have long ceased to satisfy either of us.  My t-shirt and bra are hitched around my neck, the nipples wet from where he’s sucked on them, and there’s something iron-hard pressing into my lower belly. “I think we should have an early night,” he murmurs into my ear. “I think you’re right.”  Our first time together should definitely not be on the couch. The television is still blaring and I grapple for the remote to turn it off but not before catching a glimpse of Celia and Blake writhing like eels on a bed with red satin sheets.   We make our way upstairs and down the hall without touching but immediately upon entering the bedroom we fall on each other and start peeling off each other’s clothes.  There’s a struggle pulling off my slim-fitting trousers and he grumbles that I shouldn’t have changed out of my dress.  I fall backwards onto the bed and then, with a final tug, my trousers with underwear still inside them, are sent flying.  I close my eyes and put out my arms hungry to feel his warmth and weight along the full length of my body.  But instead, my foot is lifted high into the air and kisses trailed down my leg until he gets to the juncture of my thighs.  The first brush of his tongue is a jolt of electricity, the final one a lightning bolt.  “Oh,” I say, when I eventually come down.  I hold out my arms and he’s inside me, filling a space so completely, so perfectly, I didn’t know there had been a void until now.   Nothing has ever felt so right.  When we fall, it’s within seconds of each other.  We share a slow, lazy kiss before he rolls onto his back and I nestle into the cradle of his arms.  My head rests against his chest, the strong and steady beat of his heart in my ear, and it feels like home. I wake before he does.  He’s on his back, his face relaxed in sleep.   I rise up on one elbow to watch him. The long lashes resting against his cheeks, the curve of his lips.   It seems such a miracle that he’s here, in my bed, and that he loves me.  I was convinced he was lost to me forever.  That by this time, he’d be in his own bed, in his own house, with Lace beside him as his wife.  And I would be . . .   Well, I don’t know where I’d be.  I don’t think I could have stood living across from them for very long.  So probably searching for someplace else to live like I once planned to.  Certainly not having dinners with them, or having Lace drop by for neighborly chats.   I still don’t really know why the wedding was called off.  That they both lied is the only explanation I’ve been given. Lied about what?  I should ask him.  And other questions I have too.  

I put out my hand to brush a lock of hair back from his forehead and it’s seized and brought to his lips.  “How long have you been awake?”   “Not long.  I didn’t want to interrupt. Do I pass?” “With flying colors,” I say, and lean down to give him a kiss.  His arms go around me and I’m rolled onto my back.   The kiss goes on for a long time.  

“We should start getting ready for work,” I say, although I make no effort to get up. “Not yet,” he says.   And he says it again when we take a shower together.   There’s no sign of Haymitch at breakfast.   Probably slept in after the excitement of last night’s episode of “One Life to Live.”   But we figure that now that we’re genuinely in love, no one needs to tell us how to act.  So, we walk into town together as we’re inclined to do anyway, and then meet for lunch again at the park near the school as it’s conveniently situated for both of us.   Haymitch is nowhere to be seen at dinnertime either.  We delay eating for half an hour in case he turns up but after checking first to see if he’s home – the lights at his house are on – we conclude that he’s decided to leave us alone from now on, and start eating.  And delicious it is too.  Roast pork with crackling to die for.  I guess I’m just a carnivore at heart.   Following dinner, we sit down to watch some television.  One channel is covering the mayoral elections in 7.  Johanna is well ahead in the count and early predictions are that she’ll win by a landslide.  Then Peeta flicks between cooking shows.  I don’t care what we watch.  I lie back on the sofa with my head on the armrest and my feet in Peeta’s lap.   I love having my feet and calves rubbed so much, I think it’s almost as good as sex.   Later, in bed, I decide that it’s not even close.  I am blissed-out, and still tingling from our love-making.  I stretch voluptuously, like a cat, bury my face into his neck and sigh, perfectly content.   His free hand plays with my hair, gently combing out the tangles.   If I could freeze the moment, I would.  So, I guess it makes it an odd time to ask the questions I want answers to.  But on the other hand, maybe there’ll never be a better.

“Peeta, can I ask you some things?” “Sure.” “Why did you and Lace break up?  Was it because she lied about her background?” His hand stills for a moment before going back to my hair.  “No, it wasn’t that.  I mean, I was disappointed she hadn’t told me herself and angry that everyone seemed to know before I did, but it’s not what broke us up.  You remember when I said that what I felt for Lace wasn’t real?” I nod against his chest.  “I’d been having doubts for a while – almost soon after we got engaged actually – but after that night I couldn’t ignore it any longer.  It was seeing you with Marcus that did it.  It wasn’t the first time I’d been jealous.  I was jealous over Max, even Arthur, but I’d put it down to being possessive over a friend.  But Marcus – it was Gale all over again.  He was so obviously in to you and you seemed to like him too.   And he loved nature, as you do, and you went into the woods together, and he had both his legs and wasn’t a mental nutcase. And then to see you walk away with him, with his arm around you, upset over something I had done, when I’m the one who should protect you . . .    

“As for Lace, I’d almost forgotten she was there.  And when I did get around to remembering, she was sobbing her heart out to Arthur.  She’d seemed to have forgotten about me too.”  There’s another pause and a snort of irritation.  “And that Max! “ “What about Max?” I ask warily.  

“It was like he was selling tickets to a sideshow.  Shrugging his shoulders and gesturing to anyone watching.  I don’t know how you tolerate him.” “It has it’s challenges,” I say carefully.   “But he does have his good points. They’re just not immediately apparent.” And isn’t that the truth.  I recall our first encounters and how much he annoyed me.  Still does.

I think I’m starting to get an understanding of Peeta’s relationship with Lace having gone through something similar with Marcus.   Desperately in need of affirmation. To feel worthy of love and acceptance. And something, anything, to dull the pain of rejection – either real or imagined – in the arms of another. At least I can take comfort in that there were no hurt feelings when it ended for Marcus and me. “What about Lace?” I ask.  “How did she take it?” Peeta gives a short laugh.  “She was as relieved to be out of it as I was.  While I’d been projecting an image on to her, she’d been doing the same to me.  In her case, the celebrity she’d seen and fallen in love with on television.  And then she said she realized that she had feelings for Arthur.  I doubt she’d admit it, but I think Johanna’s flirting that night had a lot to do with it.” I smile to myself imagining Johanna’s satisfaction that her scheme had worked.  She’s pretty people-smart, when you think on it.  A useful attribute for a politician to have. “But you didn’t break up straight away.”   Peeta was still wearing the ring Lace had given him the day he called around to apologise for yelling at me and to give me cookies.   “That’s because neither of us wanted to be the first to tell the other they’d made a mistake.  But once it was said, it all came tumbling out.  Whatever we once had was gone except maybe friendship and a few superficial things we had in common.  A marriage wouldn’t have lasted long.”

Another thing that Johanna had got right.  Trying too hard, she called it.  It makes sense in retrospect.  As doubts surfaced, so would efforts to alleviate it in the form of frequent and overt shows of affection and more money thrown at the wedding, as if a lavish display of either could cover the deepening cracks.  One thing puzzles me, though. “Why were you so upset when it ended, then? Johanna told me about the flashbacks.” “I was upset over a lot of things.   All that money wasted, feeling like a fool for letting it get that far, but mostly I was upset over you.   I thought I had ruined any chance I might have had.  And I had no one to blame but myself.” I feel a stirring of guilt. There was someone else to blame.  And that was me.  I ran hot and cold, giving mixed messages of my own.  I could have been more open with him.  Risked rejection, see where it led.  Because I couldn’t really be certain of anything until I did.  And I was the one who put it into his head that Lace was his girlfriend.  And that he should marry her. I open my mouth to contradict him but Peeta starts speaking again.  “You and Marcus were so cozy that night at the pub, holding hands on the way into town and then making plans for a weekend in the woods together.  I just couldn’t get it out of my head, imagining what the two of you were up to.  That’s what triggered the attacks.  It was jealousy, pure and simple.  The same emotion the Capitol worked on to get me to hate you.  And after they were brought under control, there was still despair and self-loathing to contend with.  How could I have been so blind and stupid?” “I – “

“And then having to watch those tapes.  I didn’t want to.  I knew the “to be watched with Katniss” label could only have meant two things.  It was either confirmation that you’d never loved me, or confirmation that you had, which actually would have been worse, since I’d messed things up so spectacularly.” My mind goes back to that day.  Peeta at the door, looking harried and nervous.  That speech about us trying for friendship. It’s obvious to me now that he made it because he thought that’s what I wanted.  His careful examination of any nuances that would give at least some hope that he was wrong.   “I’m so sorry,” I say.  “I’ve messed up too.   You’ve no idea.   I don’t know why you just didn’t leave me to my fate after seeing that video of Marcus and me.  I wouldn’t have blamed you.  Wanted you to, actually.  Weren’t you . . . you know, disgusted?” He pulls me closer and kisses the top of my head.  “No.  Why should I be, after what I’ve done?” My body stiffens at the implication.  That’s right. He’s been in the same situation, only he was lucky enough not to be caught.  He’s talking about what he got up to with Lace.  The Mayor’s party.  When he fucked Miss Facelicker up against a wall.  Hot jealousy surges through my veins and it takes all my self-control to squash it down.  It’s hardly reasonable is it, for me to feel this way?  Not when I practically did the same thing. “Weren’t you even jealous?” I ask.  That would make me feel a little better if he had. “Katniss, all that concerned me was that you were in trouble and how I could help.” His arms tighten around me.  “I want to protect you, keep you safe. And in some way, begin to make up for the poor job I’ve done of it lately.  I just wanted you back.  There was simply no room for a petty emotion like jealousy.” Instantly, I’m ashamed of myself.  Peeta has always been better than all of us. “You could live a hundred lifetimes and not deserve him.”  They were Haymitch’s words, and so true. “Besides,” says Peeta, “You didn’t seem to be enjoying yourself.  And who would?  Being pounded into against a hard surface like that.” Not jealous, huh?  So that’s what he was doing when he kept watching that tape over and over.  He was actually studying my facial expressions and taking comfort that I didn’t seem to be having a good time.   As if Lace would have enjoyed being whisked into a dark corner on an important night of her life to have her new gown pushed up around her waist and thrust repeatedly into against a hard wall.  But I say nothing.  At some point you do have to put aside the negativity and move forward or you might as well give it up right now.  

But one more question.  I’ll always wonder about it if I don’t ask.   “Would it have made any difference if I’d told you how I feel about you?  You know, when you were going out with Lace?  Or before?” There’s a long silence.  I wait nervously for the answer.  Please say it wouldn’t.  Please say it wouldn’t. “It might have.   I don’t know.  I guess it would have depended on the timing.  My mind was so stuck on the impossibility of you loving me, that I might not have heard it.  Or not believed it if I had.  But it could have changed the trajectory and ended my relationship with Lace sooner.”

Haymitch kept nagging me to.  I should have listened to him. Taken that risk and kept on trying until Peeta understood.  But then, how could I have known?   And when would have been the right moment?  Sometime before the marriage proposal, it seems.  But not before he’d slept with her and banned me from using his guest room at night.  And wasn’t it these two things that had crossed a line for me? There was no going back for us after that.  It had changed our relationship irrevocably and we had to come back as two different people.  That’s what Arthur said about Celia and Blake.  And there was something Max had said too.   That if they did get back together, they’d need to bring the same level of experience to it.  Celia had to, at least, try another relationship, otherwise Blake would always be the one who’d broken faith and she’d be the one who hadn’t spread her wings while she had the chance.  Marcus had to happen.  I can’t regret that.  Not only because it would betray what we had, but because I would always wonder what it’s like to be with someone not Peeta, when he’s been with someone not me, and possibly resented him for it. “I did tell you this one time.  That I love you, I mean.  It was when you started to get serious about Lace. We were sitting on your back porch and we got to talking about her.  I kept coming up with reasons for why you should be careful of her but what I really wanted was for you to stop seeing her and to notice me. And then I decided to just come straight out and tell you how I felt.  But you misunderstood my meaning and said I was like your family and what you needed from me was to accept her.  That’s why I never said it again.  It hurt so much to hear it the first time, that I didn’t want to risk hearing it again when there was no sign that you’d changed your mind.  But I should have.  Kept trying.  Maybe – “ Peeta doesn’t let me finish. “And maybe I should have faced my demons instead of running from them.  And maybe I should have asked about the blanks in my memories instead of filling the spaces with what I thought I knew.  And maybe I should have told you of my feelings for you once I became aware of them.  And maybe I should have ended my relationship with Lace when I started having doubts.  I think if we added up all the ‘maybes’ they’d be mostly on my side.  I don’t blame you for any of what happened.  It all started with me.” I shake my head.  “That’s not true.  It started with Snow.  That’s where the real blame lies.”  We lapse into silence for a few moments.   “I wish . . .” I begin. He brushes a tendril of hair from my forehead. “What do you wish?”

I sigh deeply.  “That it could have been different.  That there’d been no Lace.  Or a Marcus. That when you came back from the Capitol there was only the two of us, growing back together.  It seems to me that’s the way it was meant to be but somehow it got all messed up.” “Yeah, me too.  But we’re together now.  That’s what matters.” “I would have liked, at least, for us to have had our first time with each other.  I feel like we’ve missed out on something special.  We should have . . . before.  You know, before we went into the Quell.”   There’s a long pause.  “Didn’t we?” “No.” “Well, I just thought . . . are you sure?” “Peeta, I would remember something like that.   We didn’t.  Why would you think that?” “I don’t know.  I just thought we did.   I remember make-up and showering or something and it was in your room.” “That would have been the night before we went into the arena.  After the interviews.  But all we did was sleep.”   “Oh.  I guess I must have imagined it then.  There are still memories I can’t be sure of but this one seemed so real.” I pull his face down to mine.  “This is what’s real.”  I give him a long kiss and then settle back into the crook of his arm. But before I drift off to sleep, my thoughts go to that night before the Quell.  I recall pulling Peeta into my room and a state between wakefulness and sleep. But between times is a complete blank. I don’t remember showering for instance. Or Peeta showering.  Or of us getting into bed.  But we must have.  Without thinking, I press my hand to my left temple.  Right on the spot where Johanna hit me with the coil of wire.  There’s no pain anymore, but the memories swirl just as they did then as I try to sort out what is true and what is false.  Maybe . . . maybe, it happened?  Peeta and I were very familiar with each other with those kisses on the beach for people who had, up until then, only shared chaste kisses. And it didn’t hurt at all that first time with Marcus.  But I just don’t see how I could forget.   I roll over onto my other side and Peeta rolls with me, cradling my back.  I sink down into sleep, enveloped in his warmth, and dream of seventeen-year-old Katniss and Peeta and their very first time.  

Addendum. The following excerpt was discovered among notes made by Katniss Everdeen for her memoir on the Hunger Games and her role in the Rebellion.  For reasons unknown, it was not included in the final draft.  Historians have speculated that the omission could be due to a number of factors: that it lacked relevance to the central theme of war and oppression, that it was too personal in nature, or because the prose resembles that of a particularly bad romance novel.   It is also notable for the difference in point of view narrative from first person to third person.  Various theories have been put forward.  Does this suggest the introduction of a fantasy element, that this is what author would have liked to have occurred?  Or is it due to prudishness on the author’s part?  As a teenager, Katniss Everdeen had a reputation for purity.  Her memoirs, written when she was in her mid to late thirties, take on the language and tone of the adolescent she was at the time the action takes place.  Could this be teenage Katniss distancing herself from her burgeoning sexuality?  Evidence to support this is her account of the famous “kisses on the beach” which, in her memoir, was confined to prolonged kissing but in actuality was more akin to heavy petting.  In addition, is her tendency to cloak feelings of sexual arousal behind euphemisms such as “that thing,” “a stirring inside my chest,” and kisses that don’t satisfy.  

Contentious, but also worthy of consideration, is hijacked Peeta Mellark’s insinuation that more happened on those “nights on the train” than Katniss Everdeen admitted to.  Was the accusation simply an attempt to embarrass her in front of her friends, or was this the resurfacing of a genuine memory?   Eminent psychiatrist Dr Lucius Aurelius, a descendant of Dr Gaius Aurelius, the same psychiatrist who treated Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, proposed that Mellark had confused adolescent masturbatory fantasies with reality as a form of wish fulfillment.  At the time, he had great difficulty discerning the real from the not real.   However, it should be noted, that this recollection, no matter how nebulous, is given greater credence by Everdeen’s own telling of this one event.   From “Catching Fire” the second volume of the trilogy “The Hunger Games.”    The omitted passages are in italics.   We walk down the hallway.  Peeta wants to stop by his room to shower off the make-up and meet me in a few minutes, but I won’t let him.  I’m certain that if a door shuts between us, it will lock and I’ll have to spend the night without him.  Besides, I have a shower in my room.  I refuse to let go of his hand.   She showers first and while he is in the bathroom, she searches for something he can change into.   “This might fit,” she says, holding up a voluminous nightgown with a ruffled high neck. “It won’t fit across the shoulders,” he replies.  “Maybe a robe?”   She retrieves her discarded robe from the floor and hands it to him.  Aside from being too tight around the arms, the front edges don’t come together. “Perhaps you could wear it backwards,” she suggests.  “Like a hospital gown.” “That could work,” he says with a wry smile, “Except my backside will be hanging out.  I’ll just wear the towel and hope it stays put during the night.”

“It won’t.  Look, I’ve seen you almost naked before and you didn’t care about me seeing you then. Don’t wear anything.  I don’t mind.  I’ll even sleep naked too so it doesn’t seem so strange.  I often sleep with nothing on anyway,” she says with a nonchalance she’s far from feeling.  She hasn’t forgotten the naked Johanna in the lift or his laughter at her reaction and her so-called “purity”.  She’ll show him she’s neither pure nor has a problem with nakedness, either his or her own.  She starts to lift the hem of her nightgown but drops it again.  “I’ll just turn the lights out,” she says. They get into bed.  She lays her head against his chest as she always does and his arms go around her.  But the skin-on-skin contact evokes sensations previously not felt before. Her breasts are flattened against his side and she’s conscious of her bare pubis, recently divested of its hair, pressed against his hip.  The sensation builds and demands some kind of release.  In an attempt to alleviate it, she moves onto her back, and as she does, she inadvertently lowers her arm and it brushes against the tip of something long and hard.  

He gasps and tries to twist away from her.  “I’m sorry,” he says.  “I didn’t mean – “ “It’s all right,” she says quickly. “That happens to boys, doesn’t it? I’m not offended, really.”  She had known about, and ignored, other times in bed together when his body had acted without his permission.  And this time, with her lying naked next to him, she would have been more offended if his body hadn’t reacted. “Please stay,” she says.  “I need you to hold me.  I don’t care about that.” He lies back down and she lays her head on his chest but it’s impossible to relax.  All her senses are heightened and she’s acutely aware of a corresponding tension in his body.  How are they to sleep?  And they so need to sleep, tonight of all nights.  Who knows when they’ll be able to sleep next?   Maybe if they. . .?   She agonizes over it, uncertain of what to do.  Her experience at this kind of thing is almost non-existent. The most she’d ever done is kissing, and the most she’d ever felt before is a stirring inside her chest.  And then to make the first move?  She knows it will have to be her because she’s certain that he won’t.  He doesn’t even kiss her unless there’s a camera or someone around to witness it.  She can guess why.  It’s because he’s not sure of her.  He doesn’t want what happened before to happen again.   Very gradually, she lowers her arm again, over his ribs, over his taut abdomen.  There’s an intake of breath and she can feel the rigidity of his muscles. Lower goes the arm until it glances against that thing again.  With almost certain death in the arena perhaps only hours away, this might be her last chance to engage with one.   She gathers her courage and puts out a timorous hand to encircle its girth and is amazed at how soft it is over the steel.  He moans but makes no attempt to take her hand away.  She’s unsure how to proceed and moves her hand gently up and down the shaft.  She doesn’t want to hurt him.  He puts out a hand to encircle hers, tightens her grip and gives a firm tug.  He takes his hand away and, taking his cue, discovers that the tighter and faster she employs her hand, the more intensely he reacts to it, until there’s a series of shudders and a viscous liquid spurts out over her hand.  She discretely wipes it on the sheet. “Thank you,” he says, and kisses her softly on the lips.  Then, shyly, “Would it be okay if I touched you?” “Yes,” she breathes.  She moves onto her back and opens her limbs.  Reverently, he starts at her shoulder, trailing his fingers down to her ribs, skirting her breast, and then back up, cupping it fully, thumb brushing against the nipple.  A pulse beats insistently between her legs and she shivers.  

“Do you like that?” he asks.

“Mm,” she murmurs.  She parts her legs a little more in anticipation, willing him to take his exploration there next.  But he takes his time, skimming the curve of her waist and then her hip and inner thigh, perhaps hesitant, perhaps teasing.  Either way it gives rise to the most exquisite torture.  Please, please, she silently begs.   And then his fingertips softly trace the line of her sex, pressing deeper between the slippery folds, finding first a cavity into which he inserts a gentle finger, and then higher up, encountering a hard little nub that elicits the most intense of sensory delights.   “Oh,” she cries, and with that small word she eloquently conveys the place where he should focus his attention. With the lightest touch, he strokes and circles, keenly attune to how her body reacts to him.    He covers her mouth with his own as she hurtles towards the pinnacle, and with one delicate flick of his finger, she tumbles down, down, down into an abyss of the purest pleasure.   “That was amazing,” she says between kisses and he smiles against her mouth.  He’s half lying across her, and she becomes aware of that long hard thing again.  It’s seemingly sprung back to life.  She takes it in her hand feeling its weight and length, and thinks, “This should be inside me.”  She turns towards him and guides him between her legs.  He needs no further encouragement.  Lying fully over her now, he presses his hardness at her entrance and she tenses at the unfamiliar intrusion.   “You need to relax,” he tells her.   She nods and turns her attention to loosening her muscles and more of him glides in.  There’s a kind of burning, but not too unpleasant.  A final push and he’s all the way in.   He moves slowly at first, but then, seemingly overcome with passion, and with a few vigorous thrusts, he finds his release and collapses on top of her, panting against her neck.  She kisses his brow and brushes back his damp hair.  

“Sorry,” he says. “I couldn’t – “ “It’s okay.  There’ll be . . .” she starts to say but then stops. By this time tomorrow, one or both of them could be dead and there will be no other times. She begins again. “I’m glad I did it. And with you.” He kisses her and moves onto his back. His arm is around her shoulders and she rests her head against his chest.  “I love you,” he says.  She doesn’t say it back.  It doesn’t seem the right time, somehow.  But she takes his hand and kisses it.   Do we sleep?  I don’t know. We spend the night holding each other, in some halfway land between dreams and waking.  Not talking. Both afraid to disturb the other in the hope that we’ll be able to store up a few precious minutes of rest. Cinna and Portia arrive with the dawn, and I know Peeta will have to go.  Tributes enter the arena alone.  He gives me a light kiss.   “See you soon,” I answer.