#giant face palm at this whole event

[tutuandscoot]

The one time this arena blessed us was VM’s 1st world championship win feat. their exquisite Golden Waltz 😌

The only thing ice dance events this GPF did were remind me of this, also in Torino but 16 years ago

[hoshifighting]

HI, passing by to say that your fics are great, and your kinktober is perfect!!

I know you've written a lot about Vernon recently, but I saw this on TikTok and I can't stop thinking about the things he could do with his giant hands. Could you write something about it?

warnings: smut, spanking, fingering, handjob.

vernon's hands because you know he’d hit you with the lightest tap at first, like, it’s almost insulting how gentle it is. vernon ain’t tryna bruise you up or whatever, and the whole time he’s got that little nervous grin, like he’s about to be scolded. it’s cute as hell. but, the second he really lets loose? man’s got power behind those hands. big hands. you can feel the weight of 'em before they even land.

like that one time, right after a shower, towel barely clinging to you, hair still damp. you were just minding your business, trying to get into your clothes when smack. he swung his hand across your ass with zero warning, and it wasn’t no soft pat this time either—full-on, the type of slap that makes your skin fever. you legit stumbled forward like, “shit!” and he looked all shocked, wide-eyed, like he couldn’t believe it either.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry,” he’d say, rushing over, hands immediately on your ass, rubbing at the spot like he’s tryna fix it, all soft and apologetic. but the damage’s already done, ‘cause you’re fucking turned on, and it’s like a switch flips. clothes? yeah, fuck that. who needs 'em. you’re on him within seconds, pushing him down onto the bed like, “nah, do it again.”

and vernon, with those stupid big hands of his, he’d look at you for a second like, “for real?” but there’s that smirk again—like, half-cocked, all knowing—and next thing you know, you’re on top of him, and his hands are everywhere, gripping your waist, pulling you in. you’re grinding down on him, barely even caring about pace ‘cause you’re too busy begging him for more. more slaps, more everything.

and when he does it? that sound, it’s unreal. the way his palm connects with your skin—it’s loud, echoing in the room, mixing with your moans. and every hit just makes you sink deeper into him, arching your back, desperate for the next. “harder,” you gasp out, already feeling breathless but too far gone to give a shit. he gets braver with every slap too, the more you beg for it, the more he’s giving it, and the smirk never leaves his face.

or

when vernon chokes you, it’s a whole event. his hand? massive. like, it’s not just on your neck—it’s covering everything, from your throat up to your damn chin. it’s almost unfair how easily he keeps you in place, like you're nothing, like you couldn’t move even if you tried. he’s splitting you open with his cock, going slow at first, letting you feel every inch stretch you out. and the way his hand’s just wrapped around your neck, keeping your head steady, so you’ve got nowhere to go—it’s fantastic. he’s watching you like he’s studying your reaction, all intense, waiting for that moment when you lose it, your mouth open, moaning his name, eyes rolling back. it’s game over. you’re his. completely.

and then, ooof when it comes to using those hands for a handjob? different breed. he’s so fucking smooth with it, his fingers wrap around his cock perfectly—he knows his size gives him an advantage and he uses it, dragging his hand so slow, it’s like he’s teasing you with how effortless it seems for him, would use his thumb on his slit or he’ll press it just under the head, rubbing in those slow circles, never rushing.

now, fingering, that’s another story. those hands of his—when he uses ‘em right, you feel it everywhere. like, you ever have someone finger you so good it’s like their hand is the only thing holding you together? vernon does that shit. pressing his huge warm hand on your lowerbelly as his fingers are knuckle deep inside you. he’ll start slow, like he always does, one finger at first, testing you out, watching how you react. his fingers are so thick, though, so one already feels like a lot. but then he slips in another, scissoring them apart, stretching you in ways that make your breath catch. he’s got this way of curling them just right, like he knows exactly where to press, it’s like he’s got this shit down to a science.

[d1xonss]

Hi!! Could I request a one shot where reader and Daryl are like complete opposites?? But he realizes eventually he’s grown to love her or something like that?? Thank you!

Enchanting

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 5/6

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : Fluff

✧ Word Count : 3.6k

AN ~ Thank you so much for this request! I’ve been writing some pretty sad stuff lately so I’m glad to have something on the lighter side lol. I tried my best with this considering I haven't been writing much outside of the series I've been updating. But I'm always up for the practice. Hope you enjoy!

He just couldn’t wrap his head around it. How someone so fragile, so delicate, so perfect, survived this long in a world as shitty as this. 

Alexandria as a whole felt like a dream within itself. Arriving with his family at the giant gates after living a life of hell on the road, it was something he would call a miracle. Though he hardly believed in such a thing, he thought this was as close as it was going to get. Houses lined up down the road, running water, electricity, it almost seemed too unreal to him to even want to stay in a place like this. 

It took him some time to get adjusted, some of his people having to drag him out of the house by his hair to actually give this place a chance. They wanted him to open up, socialize a bit more with some of the people in the community seeing as they were planning to stay in this dream-like place. 

Carol was the most persistent of them all. She poked and prodded at him for days to get out of the house and actually give this place a chance. He would argue and say that he had left the house since their arrival, but in her mind, going out for hours to hunt was hardly the socializing she had in mind. All she wanted was for Daryl to be able to thrive here as the rest of them were slowly doing, not wanting to see him completely shut himself out.

So, after a whole week of trying to coax him out of the secure home, he finally agreed to a party. 

Did he enjoy parties? No, absolutely not. He didn’t know what to do at those types of events, not knowing how to really talk with others freely as it wasn’t exactly his strong suit. He would most likely just awkwardly stand in the corner by himself until enough time passed for him to be able to leave. And at least then he could say he tried.

When the day finally came it was safe to say he was a little nervous. He hadn’t talked to really anyone outside of his close knit group in what felt like forever. He had no idea if he would even be good at the whole “small talk” thing as he never once was to begin with. But still, he promised he’d try.

So, after getting back from a hunt he went on earlier that day, he headed towards the lit up house as instructed. Though the closer he got, the more nervous he became. His palms began to sweat a little as he wiped them a few different times on his jeans, trying to swallow whatever anxiety was creeping back up to haunt him. It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal, but it was. To him, it was.

He eventually forced himself to open up the front door with almost instant regret, seeing a few turning heads to notice his presence in the room. Though he tried to ignore it for the most part, only nodding to the familiar faces he saw in different areas of the mostly filled house. He already grew uncomfortable at the watchful eyes that managed to follow him, purposefully looking away as he kept his head down while he moved.

Alright, time to find a corner, he thought to himself as he subtly scoped the place out, preparing to be alone for most of the night.

“Daryl!”

Damnit.

He reluctantly turned his head to see Carol approaching him rather quickly with a wide smile on her face as she quickly brought him into a hug, “Oh, I’m so happy you made it.” 

“Mhm,” he hummed with a nod as he patted her back awkwardly before she finally pulled away, “Said I’d try…so m’ tryin.”

“And I’m very proud of you.” she said sincerely as she placed a hand on his cheek for a moment, before pulling back with an even larger smile, “You want something to drink?” 

He dipped his head in a nod of appreciation as she tapped his shoulder, “I’ll be right back.” she promised, before turning around to maneuver through the sea of people.

Daryl patted the sides of his legs nervously as he waited for her return, scanning over different things in the house that caught his attention. One was the slightly flickering light above his head, another was the music playing somewhat softly in the background of people’s loud conversations. And the third was a laugh. A quite delightful laugh that had his attention from the second it hit his ears.

Daryl’s head whipped in the direction of the sudden delicate noise, his eyes catching sight of a woman he had never seen around the community before. Over the past week he had managed to see a few other residents of Alexandria when he traveled outside, sending them a polite nod when he passed through. But he had never seen you before.

He watched intently as you interacted with someone else from right next to you, whispering something close to your ear as you let out another light and enchanting laugh. His eyes moved over the features of your face, seeing your eyes crinkling at the corners and dimples forming on your cheeks from how wide you smiled. His lips parted a little at the sight, his head even tilting a bit to the side as he continued to study your movements.

You occasionally tucked a piece of hair behind your ear everytime it got in the way of your eyes, your hand effortlessly falling back down to grasp the cup of the drink you held in your hands. Your nose occasionally scrunched up a bit as you spoke, clearly about something that brought you joy and it intrigued Daryl more than he was willing to admit. A part of him wanted to get closer to hear the delightful story you were surely telling. He could in fact almost make out the sound of your voice from where he stood-

“Here’s your drink.” Carol’s voice quickly cut into his thoughts.

He practically jumped out of his skin at her arrival, glancing down to see the beer bottle in her hands before swiping it in his own grasp with a quiet thanks. Her brows furrowed in slight confusion as now all Daryl could seem to focus on was the ground, but curiosity got the better of her as to why he was so jumpy. Her eyes glanced behind her shoulder and did a scan of the surroundings…before a smirk was brought to her face.

“She’s pretty.” she commented casually.

Daryl’s eyes flew up to meet her smug expression with a scoff, “Dunno what yer talkin bout.” he brushed off as he raised the bottle to meet his lips.

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes, “I’m not dense, Daryl, and neither are you…” she trailed off before glancing back once more to catch you laughing yet again, “I think you should go talk to her.”

A scoff was the only response he could come up with, a reddened pigment covering his cheeks at the suggestion. You were already having a good time, why the hell would you want to talk to someone like him instead.

“I’m serious.” Carol pushed, “I think it’s the right kind of socializing you need.” she finished with a wink.

He gave her a pointed look as he took another swig of the liquid, his eyes panning back over towards you as the person whom you were once talking with, suddenly walked away. So now you stood alone, swaying back and forth a little to the music in content as you occasionally took a sip from your own drink as well.

“Well, would you look at that…a spot seemed to open up.” Carol teased as she nudged his side a little to which he just brushed her away with an annoyed grunt.

Though he couldn’t argue as he continued to casually glance at you still standing alone, though it looked like you didn’t mind too much. You looked almost too peaceful in a cramped party filled to the brim with people. Maybe he should take a chance. Just this once in his life maybe the leap of faith would do him some good, giving him an opportunity to talk to you.

After having an eternal inner debate with himself and a loud sigh left his lips, he finally pushed himself to move forward. He tried to ignore Carol’s wide smile in encouragement as he passed by her completely, but it truly was hard to ignore. He huffed as he moved further, awkwardly squeezing by a few people lingering in the way before he could reach you.

Although it happened all too fast, now standing in front of you with somewhat of a blank expression as you now looked him in the eye. Daryl swallowed thickly as he stood frozen upon seeing your gaze match his, your eyes were beautiful as they seemed to hold something much more than he was expecting. Everything about you seemed to make time stop for him.

“Hi.” you greeted politely after a few seconds of silence, sending a smile his way that almost caused him to melt.

He cleared his throat, “Hey.” he responded dryly, now almost panicking as he didn’t think this through as much as he should’ve. He was suddenly rendered speechless, not knowing what to say next as you looked at him almost expectantly.

Though your eyes narrowed the smallest bit, the smile still remaining on your face, “I recognize you, you’re new.” you stated with a raised finger, “Apart of Rick’s group, right? Daryl?”

“Uh huh.” he mumbled as he continued to stare, almost in disbelief that you had recalled seeing him before, enough to recognize him and even know his name. He’d almost wished you would repeat his name again so he could hear you say it just once more.

Your smile widened even more if that were possible as you suddenly held out your hand for him to take, “I’m (Y/N).”

And just like that, after hearing your name for the very first time, he could never seem to get it out of his head. He didn't necessarily know it then, but you would soon become a person that Daryl cared very much for. Someone he would give up his life for. Someone he would grow to love.

He was infatuated with you, slowly finding the time to leave the house more and more so he could have a chance at catching you outside as well. Normally he would never be so bold as to plan something like this just to get a chance to talk to you, but he couldn’t help it. There was just something so special about you that he couldn’t ignore.

Months in the community went by just like that, getting countless chances and opportunities to spend more time with you on multiple occasions. You were honestly flattered that the stoic man wanted to seek you out whenever he got the chance, offering to help fix something in your house or inviting you out on one of his hunts, you were always excited upon his arrival.

In exchange you would always have something to give him in return for his countless acts of kindness. Whether it was giving him something you had baked or his worn jeans you offered to patch up and sew, you wanted to give him something. He always seemed to deny your persistence, wanting nothing in return as he thought you were the best gift he could ever receive. But still you pushed, batting your eyelashes at him until he finally agreed to take whatever you presented, leaving you smiling at his bashful state.

You knew of his growing feelings towards you, of course you did. You picked up on it after he stopped by your house about three different times to make sure the bathroom sink he had fixed was still working properly. Daryl however was still painfully oblivious as he failed to realize that after all this time, you too found yourself growing feelings for him.

“I think you should just bite the bullet and ask her.” Carol advised as she mauvered around the kitchen, cooking dinner for the two of them.

Daryl’s constant resort was to just scoff at her words as he held his head in one of his hands at the kitchen island, “Alright.” he mumbled sarcastically.

She whipped around with slightly widened eyes, “I’m being serious!” she said as she stirred something heated on the stove, “And you better do it fast before she gets swept up by someone else.”

His eyes quickly snapped up towards her at the possibility, “Ya think that’ll happen?” he asked, not even trying to hide his worry.

He cared for you deeply, unlike anything he had ever felt before, the last thing he wanted to see was you with someone else. But at the same time he was scared. Scared to ask you out for some kind of date if you didn’t see him the same way he saw you. He didn’t want to ruin what he already had with you, he didn’t want to scare you away. But the suggestion of you being with someone besides him now made him worry further.

“I think that it could happen.” Carol corrected, “She’s very kind and pretty, it’s hard for me to believe she hasn’t found someone yet.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing…” Daryl said as he trailed off, “Better then endin up with some asshole like me.”

The woman sighed heavily as she dropped the wooden spoon in her hands and turned around fully to face him, “Daryl, that girl absolutely adores you. You might not be able to see it, but I do. I think you should just…take a chance. Like you did with that party.” she spoke knowingly.

He sent her a glare through his lids, earning a small laugh from her as she turned back around. His mind seemed to wander for a long moment as Carol’s back was facing him now, thinking if now was really the time to make some type of move. He wanted nothing more than to just confess what he’s been feeling for so long, wanting to sweep you off your feet and never let you go. But it wasn’t that easy.

He had thought about this situation before in the past, a lot more than he was willing to admit, but everytime he seemed to always talk himself out of it. He didn’t know how you would react, if you would be offended or flattered. If you would turn him down easy for leave him brokenhearted. There were too many possibilities for him to ignore, too many scenarios to think through.

But in the end you were the kindest person he had ever met and he felt safe with you, safer than he had ever felt before. Perhaps that was the only reason he needed to finally take a chance.

Before he could even process what he was doing, he suddenly stood up from his seat and headed straight towards the front door, trying not to talk himself out of the sudden decision he just made. He was fast and light on his feet as he walked down the porch steps, nearly falling on his ass as he missed the last one in a hurry. But he hardly let it bother him, looking like a man on a mission to others he was passing by on the sidewalk.

The walk to your house felt fast and slow all at once, his heartbeat rapidly pounding in his chest with each step closer he got. He felt his hands begin to sweat a bit as he trudged up the steps to your pretty yellow house, noticing the arrangements of flowers you had on either side of the porch that matched your personality perfectly. He was inches away from the front door now as he stood back and hesitated to knock on the wooden frame to your home. His eyes glanced down for a moment to your welcome mat below his feet, scraping off his dirty boots as he would never wish to track mud into your house.

With his boots clean(ish) and a huff passing from his lips, he finally raised his fist up towards the door to give it a firm and heavy knock, waiting for you to answer. The seconds seemed to go impossibly slow as he waited, wondering to himself if you were even home. You loved to head to the gardens this time of day, picking your share of the fruits and vegetables being grown. Perhaps he had missed you completely, contemplating if he should just turn around and head back seeing as the seconds turned into minutes.

But then he heard it. The faintness of your voice calling through the house that you were coming, followed by the pitter patter of your light and delicate footsteps. He swallowed thickly before the door was suddenly swung open, revealing your smiling face that seemed to light up even more at just the sight of him.

“Hey!” you greeted cheerfully as you bounded forward to close the distance between you two, bringing him in for a tight embrace.

He grunted at the sudden impact, but smiled a bit to himself as he hesitantly wrapped his arms around you softly. He feared that he would break you if he squeezed a little too tight.

You pulled back with a smile just as wide as your eyes lingered a bit over his face, “What’s up? You need something?” you asked politely.

He couldn’t help but think that he needed you and only you, but it felt a little wrong to be that blunt right away so he settled with a shake of his head, “Nah, just…just wanted ta see ya.” he spoke honestly.

Your eyes twinkled at the sweetness of him as you laughed lightly, “I’ve been wanting to see you too.” you admitted, “It feels like it’s been too long since we’ve hung out.”

“Yeah,” he grunted as he cleared his throat a little, “Shit’s gettin busier round here.”

You nodded in agreement, a little sympathy on your features as you knew how much he did around here for the community, “But- uh…” he quickly corrected, “I’ll always make time for ya…no matter how busy it gets.” he admitted nervously.

Your heart warmed as you smiled at him sweetly, “You sure?” you asked a bit playfully, “You sure you’re not too busy?” you poked as you ventured out to take his hand softly in yours.

He smiled down at you as you intertwined your fingers with his, as you normally would do, “Never.” he promised.

His eyes then took the time to take in your appearance as he normally would do. Your hair was pulled back a bit as it was tied up with a light pink ribbon, framing your face angelically as a few strands fell from the front and landed just above your cheekbones. He then noticed the sundress that fit your figure beautifully, finding himself loving the many skirts and flowy dresses you constantly wore. And then the jewelry that hung around your neck, a tiny pink diamond that was shaped into a heart as it sat in the middle of your chest.

It was actually a gift he had given you weeks ago, something he had found on a run that just reminded him of you. It was so soft and delicate, and the heart seemed fitting to your style. 

“Did you…want to come in for a bit?” you asked as you noticed him grow a little quieter than usual.

He snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of your sweet voice, “Oh- uh- nah…I just came over here ta…ask ya somethin.”

“So ask.” you prodded gently with a soft squeeze to his hand that made his knees feel like jelly.

You knew that Daryl often had a hard time with things like this, seeing it made him uncomfortable to say or ask something out of his comfort zone. But you were always so patient with him it blew his mind, always willing to wait for him to just come out and say it.

“Alright, so uh…” he cleared his throat before swallowing thickly, “I was just um…just wonderin…if ya wanted to maybe…go on a ride with me sometime…?”

Your eyes brightened a little as you went to open your mouth to answer, but he quickly cut you off, “Nah, I mean- n-not like just a ride, but like…out together sometime…just the two of us...kinda like-”

His rambling went on for a few more seconds before you decided to cut him off instead. He suddenly clamped his mouth shut in a split second when he felt the softness of your lips brushing across his cheek, leaving a light peck before you pulled away with a smile.

“I’d love to.” you said.

The man was stunned to silence, feeling his face get hot and the burning of his cheek becoming more intense as he tired to process your actions. You couldn’t help but laugh a little to yourself as you gave his hand another comforting squeeze while gazing up at him through your long lashes.

“I’m free tomorrow at noon…if that works for you?”

He stood there in bewilderment for a moment or two before frantically nodding his head, not counting on his words in this moment in time. You nodded back before venturing your hand out of his hold and up towards his face to move some of the hair that had fallen over his eyes. He almost quivered at the feeling of your fingers gently touching his hair, silently wanting more though he would never ask.

“I can’t wait.” you admitted gently and quietly, lulling him back into the same enchanting trance he was hit with the moment he caught sight of you for the first time all those months ago.

~ Thanks for reading!

[f0point5]

Did Max’s P2 mean that Emilia didn’t make to Miami since crazy stuff happens when she isn’t at the race? (I mean I consider it pretty crazy that Max didn’t win)

As a consolation prize could we get Max and Emilia being domestic? Would love to see them just going on their normal life and being in love 🥺

I am sooo sorry this took so long! I went through an inspiration drought after Miami but I am BACK! I’m sorry this didn’t end up being a comfort post-Miami but I hope you like it anyway!!!

Edit: you know what, in my head she was in Miami because honestly I think she and Max would be really happy about Lando’s win. I don’t think they’d take it anywhere near as hard as Max fans lol. He’s their son, they love him.

✨Set between the China and Miami GPs ✨

I (vow) I (will) always be yours

Quiet Sundays in your household are a rarity. If it’s not a race, it’s an event, or time spent on a plane to get to the factory for some work. But not today.

Today Max was woken at nearly midday by Jimmy standing on his head instead of his alarm. He’d had a leisurely breakfast with you out on the terrace. Now, he was practicing for his upcoming sim race while you went through the kitchen cupboards to make a shopping list.

He turned around in his sim rig to sneak a glance at you. Max never lied when he told you that you looked incredible at all the events you went to. He still loses his breath every time he sees you dressed to the nines in haute couture, his palms still sweat and he still never quite feels worthy, because who could be. But he never loves looking at you more than when you’re home, not bothering with anything but your own comfort.

Now, wearing just that Alpha Tauri hoodie that you’d been stealing from him forever, hair in a ponytail, holding a lemon so overripe it looked like a lime, he falls even more in love with you.

He smiles to himself as he turns back to the sim and starts a new lap around Spa.

“Hypothetical question,” you call out to him, just as he gets to turn 1. Typical. Max credits you with the fact that he’s able to watch the race even while driving it, because he’s so used to distractions at home.

“No,” he replies immediately, because he knows where this is going. “I wouldn’t love you if you are going to be a beetle or a worm or something,”

“Firstly, that’s really bold of you to say after I loved you through the haircut in Singapore,”

“Oh my God,” he groans. He swears he’s forgotten everything about that weekend except the unfortunate haircut, because you never mentioned the race since. But the haircut, that’s haunted him ever since.

“Kafka had nothing on that haircut, that was an assassination attempt,” you say behind him.

“What is a Kafka?” Max asks as he bounces over a curb. The chair shakes a little bit.

Your bare legs appear in Max’s periphery and he allows himself one glance as you perch on the mini fridge next to his trophy.

“You know, like the book, Metamorphosis?” You explain, tapping your pencil against the notepad. “Because the guy turns into a giant beetle and his whole family turns on him,”

“No,” Max replies, already thoroughly disgusted. “What the fuck is that?”

“Max, I know you didn’t go to school but the internet is free,”

“I’m not going to spend my time reading about a human beetle,” he scoffs, a shiver rolling through him as his nose wrinkles. If this is what it takes to be educated, he’s glad he’s just fast. “What was your question,”

“It’s-“ you stop, and he lifts his foot off the throttle. “Oh, should we get some Chablis?”

“Why?”

“For when you’re dad comes on Tuesday,”

“My dad’s not coming on Tuesday,”

“Yes, he is,” you insist, and Max wonders how you would know that if he didn’t. “Isn’t he?”

Max pauses his lap, which he knows is basically fucked, and turns to face you. “I thought your dad was coming on Tuesday,”

He watches as your expression sours instantly. “Great, so one bad tempered European man who lives vicariously through his child is going to show up on Tuesday evening, we just don’t know which one of us he’s related to,” you roll your eyes, and Max reaches over to squeeze your knee. “I’ll text my dad and check,”

You pull your phone out of the hoodie pocket and begin to tap away. Max considers restarting his lap but thinks before of it.

“So, your hypothetical?” He prompts, his hand sliding towards the inside of your thigh.

“One second,” You say, scrolling. “Hm.” Maybe you don’t even notice you do it, but your eyes flicker up to Max for a split second as your tongue glides over your canine. Sassy does that right before she hisses at him.

“What?” Max asks, squeezing your leg to get your attention.

“Apparently we’re never getting married,” you say, finally looking up at him with a blank stare.

He hedges his bets, stuttering out a quiet, “huh?”

“‘Fans of F1’s most famous couple may have wait for a wedding, as Verstappen stresses he is in no hurry to tie the knot’,” you recite, reading from your phone.

Max rolls his eyes. As much as he tries to avoid answering questions about your relationship, he can’t dodge all of them. Every now and again he’s advised to feed the animals. And this is what they do with whatever he says - twist it into something only vaguely resembling what he meant.

He’s about to laugh when he notices the way you’re looking at your phone. Your lips are pursed as you scroll studiously. You cross one leg over the other, forcing Max to move his hand.

“So what?” Max asks, scrutinising your face. “Are you in a hurry?”

You lock your phone and toss it towards the couch. “Nope.”

“So, what’s the problem?” He asks, craning his head to catch your eye but you stand up and walk out of view.

“I didn’t say there was a problem,” you call flippantly, your voice getting further away.

Max may be a little bit clueless, but he knows you well enough to know there absolutely is a problem.

“No, you never say that,” he says, climbing out of his sim rig as you sit down on the couch. “You just disappear and don’t talk to me and then I have to run around a city trying to find you-“

“One time,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

“Four times,” Max corrects, ready to start listing them.

“Oh, so that’s why you don’t want to marry me?”

“When did I say-“

Max stops himself because he can hear his voice rising to a hoarse squeak. He doesn’t really understand how you got there. But then he looks at you, sitting cross legged on the couch, picking at your freshly manicured nails as if they’ve personally offended you, and he remembers that in an uncharacteristic lack of self awareness, you still think he holds even a single card in this game.

He’ll never understand what it is that makes you think that there’s a future for him without you in it, because there isn’t and there never has been. But, to paraphrase some writer you love, he’s not meant to understand, he’s just meant to love you. Which he does. Enough to know that you hate feeling like the person who cares more.

You move when he sits beside you, scrambling to the corner of the couch and stretching out perpendicular to Max, which makes him sigh. You pick up your phone and start scrolling, not even acknowledging his presence.

“To be clear,” Max says pointedly, “I didn’t mean I didn’t want to get married. I just meant it’s not…” he chews his lip, choosing his next words carefully. “I will spend the rest of my life with you anyway, right? So I can get married to you tomorrow or in ten years, it doesn’t matter to me,”

You don’t say anything to this, but you do put down your phone to cross your arms over your chest.

“Well, maybe it should. It is a legally binding contract, you know. Once you sign on it, you can’t get rid of me,” you tease, nudging his thigh with your foot. Max smiles ruefully; despite your sing-song tone, the thought even entering your mind makes him uncomfortable.

“I haven’t been able to get rid of you in twenty-six years,” he says, taking the way you’re fighting a smile as his cue to come closer. He shift himself onto the couch as crawls over you, one arm on the back of the couch to trap you while the other moves your legs apart so he slot between them. “And I haven’t wanted to. A piece of paper isn’t going to change that. But if it will that even more obvious to you then we can do it soon. If you want we can do it in the Vegas paddock for all I care,” he punctuates each couple of words with kisses pressed to your cheek, jaw, and finally your neck, which he nips at playfully as you squirm under him.

“Okay, slow down please,” you chide, pushing Max away from you, but when he pulls away he can see you’re smiling. “We don’t even know if we’re going to be together by November,”

Max snorts at that. “No, you’re right,” he says, fighting a smile as you shift in your seat so that you can lean against him.

He puts his arm around you and you spot in under it, resting your head against his chest. Even shielded from the sun as you are, the golden light seems to find you. You just glow.

“Okay, are you allowed to eat cheesecake this week? Because I’m not going to buy one if you just-“

“Wait,” Max interrupts. “What was your hypothetical question?”

You chuckle sheepishly as you glance up at him. “Oh, it was, if I disappeared how long would you wait for me before moving on,”

“Three days,” Max answers, pressing a kiss to your hair. “Because after three days either someone is going to return you because you’re so annoying, or you’re dead and there’s no point waiting,”

“You know, when you finally, and I quote, get around, to asking me to marry you, I’m going to say no,” you tell him, slapping at his stomach.

He catches your hand and entwines your fingers, lifting your hand to his lips. “Don’t worry, by the time I get around to it you won’t remember this conversation,”

“True,” you shrug, resting your notepad on his thigh while you scribble down bresaola. “You don’t even have a ring and that’ll take at least a year to find,”

Even with your head leaning on his chest you didn’t notice Max’s involuntary jerk. Quick reaction time saved his ass again.

Max isn’t good at lying. History has proven that. But he was good at omitting. There is always a small part of him that felt bad when he kept secrets from you, and now is the same. He always dealt with it by promising himself he’d tell you whatever it was when the time was right. He knows that now is not the time for you to know what you’d find if you went into the safe at his dad’s house. What’s been sitting there since the 4th January. You’ll know eventually.

So all he says is, “yeah,” with a gentle smile. “At least a year.”

[squishytenya]

semblance of touch

prologue - part one - part two - part three

pairing - bakugou x gn!reader

warnings - swearing, bkg uses princess as a nickname but in a gn way, enemies to lovers, minor injuries, hospital setting briefly (title from sedated by hozier)

By the time you had pulled on your jacket and caught up with him, the blonde was already at the front of the hospital. He took one look at you and scowled. Scoffing, you pushed past him and towards the street you knew led towards your shared dorms. 

Your stomping was interrupted by a sharp pain in your chest. Grunting, you paused and waited for the annoyingly cocky blonde to catch up with you. 

“Hurt, Didn't it?”

You sucked on your teeth. Was he going to be so goddamn annoying the entire time? You might put everyone out of their misery and smother him before the quirk even has time to run its course. 

You spun on your heel, pressing your index finger to his annoyingly muscled chest. 

“Listen, I know you don’t like me, I don’t know what I did to you but could you try not to be a giant dick for this please” you hissed at him. 

He dragged his tongue across his teeth, peering down at you. The scowl on his face wasn’t promising but you were determined not to break under his gaze. You could give as good as you got and he was going to be perfectly aware of that by the end of this whole thing. 

He folded. 

“Fine.”

“Thank you” you huffed, spinning around again.

This time you tried not to stray too far from him. 

— 

“We’re gonna have to move you to his room”

Your jaw dropped. Bakugou and you had come to Aizawa’s office to try and look for some sort of fix for the situation. Ripping a bite from your sandwich, you clenched your hands behind your back. It was clear that your angry blonde companion wasn’t too happy about this turn of events either - if his smoking palms were any indication.

“What do you mean? There’s a spare room on his floor” you stuttered, “it’s literally right next to him why can’t I stay there?”

Your professor grumbled, leaning forward in his chair. His black hair looked tousled and his eye bags seemed even bigger than usual - something you hadn’t thought possible until this moment. Because you and Bakugou were his students, despite you both being adults, you were still technically under his guidance and that meant he had to deal with the technicalities of the situation you had landed yourself in. 

“It’s not furnished and the bathroom is on the side of Bakugou’s room” he explained, “even if you moved your bed to the back wall you wouldn’t be close enough” 

You gnawed on your lip and waited for your teacher to continue. 

“We don’t know how long this is going to take to sort, it’s not worth moving the entire dorm layout if it’s going to be fixed in the next couple of days”

“What do you mean days?” came a gruff voice from behind you. 

You grimaced as you were reminded of just who your new roomie was. 

“We thought this was a 24-hour deal, sensei” you scrambled to cover for your counterparts rudeness.

Aizawa quirked a brow at you - the closest to amusement you think you’ve seen on him. Shifting on your feet, you decided that avoiding eye contact would be the best idea. 

“We don’t know that, none of the others have seen any progress so you're just going to have to deal with it” Aizawa’s eyes glowed slightly on the last few syllables.

Even though his annoyance wasn’t directed at you, you still shivered under its weight. He was very obviously tired so if Katsuki could just leave it alone, you could finally sort your shit out. 

“Your things are being moved as we speak,” Aizawa grumbled. 

Cringing once again, you nodded at your teacher and removed yourself from the situation, much to your own relief. Usually, you had no problem being a slight annoyance to the man - he had multiple years to get used to you. But you were tired, and so was he, so you would have to save your annoyance for your lovely new best friend. 

“Come on then dumbass, you smell like hospital and it’s making me retch”

You gaped at Bakugou’s comment, dragging your arm up to your face to smell it. By the time you realised he was pulling your leg, the taller boy was halfway to the elevator and dangerously close to 8ft away. 

“Look,” you started, “if this is gonna work, you’re gonna have to slow the fuck down”

You emphasised the last word, slapping your hand on the blonde’s bare shoulder. A zap of electricity travelled up your arm and through your body, leaving that tingly warmth in its place. It flowed through your body like the drip of honey in your veins. The sensation caused you to let out an embarrassing whimper/gasp combination and you felt your face heat up in response to it. 

Katsuki obviously felt it too, his body freezing up under your touch. You saw a shiver travel through his body, seemingly emerging from where your palm laid across his tan skin. A breathy sound escaped his nose. 

You both stood in the hall, frozen in place. 

“Uh,” you forced out, “we should really… um- go to the dorm”

It took Katsuki a second to regain his composure but he eventually returned to his gruff, standoffish self and shrugged your touch off of his skin. Grumbling, he continued down the hall towards what was now your combined bedroom. 

— 

The room was still very distinctly Bakugou. It was fairly plain, blue and grey bed sheets and very few posters. There was some skincare on the desk next to his bed and a fair collection of books tucked neatly into a bookshelf across the room from his bed. There were a few photos hung on the wall. They featured a brunette man with glasses and a woman that looked like an older, female version of the man that stood in the room with you. Bakugou’s parents, you assumed. 

What really surprised you was the simple white plant pot on his window. The little purple flowers were no bigger than an inch in diameter but they seemed perfectly pruned, not a leaf or petal out of place or a sun spot in sight. They added some colour to the room - something it was sorely missing. 

The only thing that really seemed out of place was the camp bed that had been haphazardly set up in the centre of the room. It had your bedsheets on it but there was nothing else indicating it belonged to you. You understood why this couldn't have been done in your room, the girls had a lot more protests to the loudmouth man next to you living in their side of the dorm than the three guys did to having you around. Shouji was nice enough, quiet but that was fine with you. Kirishima was already one of your close friends so it was more of a help than a hindrance to have him around - especially for him to inevitably play mediator between you and your brand new roommate. 

“Are you gonna stand there like an idiot or go shower?” 

You sucked on your teeth. 

“I was taking in my new prison cell, if you must know,” you bit back at him. 

He raised his hands in surrender. 

“Whatever you want princess, you still smell like rubbing alcohol though” 

You rubbed a hand up your arms uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact with the man in front of you. 

“They haven’t brought my clothes over yet”

He stretched his neck to the side, dragging a wide hand down the side of it and groaning. Then, a hand appeared in front of your face. 

“Keys. I’ll get Kirishima to go get your damn clothes” he grumbled. 

You shyly dropped your keys in his hand. Letting him go through your shit didn’t appeal to you too much, but a nice, warm shower certainly did. At this point, you just wanted to crawl into the shitty camp bed and pass out until the sunrise.

Calloused hands grabbed the keys from yours, and then he was gone. You adjusted your jaw, sucking on your tongue to prevent a snarky comment escaping your mouth. Casting your eyes to his open ensuite door, the white of the shower towels glinted in the bedroom light and you felt the sweet promise of cleanliness clear your stress from your shoulders. 

And you were correct. The warm spray of the shower washed away whatever dirt from the fight hadn’t been cleaned off at the hospital and you felt your tense muscles unfurl under your skin. The steam even calmed the thrumming burn under your skin from Bakugou going just over your distance threshold. You didn’t have a wash cloth here yet, but Bakugou at the very least wasn’t a 4-in-1 body wash-shampoo-kitchen-sink kinda guy. Small victories, you supposed.

The knock at the bathroom door came way too quickly for your liking. Leaning out of the shower, you cracked open the door just enough for a tan hand to drop a towel on the floor. 

What a gentleman. 

If you rolled your eyes any more today they were gonna fall out of your head. At least the burning in your chest lessened when he returned to the dorm. It was an odd thing, to find comfort in his presence when he annoyed you so much in every other aspect. Stupid quirk. Huh, finding comfort in Bakugou - maybe a side effect of the quirk was going insane. You mentally wave goodbye to your hero career and let the image of your and Bakugou’s matching padded cells flood your brain. 

The chuckle you let out wasn’t quiet. You bit your lip to stop yourself sounding like a crazy person. There was no need to give Bakugou more ammo than he already had on you. 

“The fuck are you laughing at?”

You bit your lip to stifle a giggle again. This really wasn’t the time for you to start finding stuff funny. 

Wrapping the red towel around yourself, you stepped out of the bathroom - fully expecting a pile of clothes to be waiting for you. 

Instead, it was just Bakugou sitting on the bed. Alone. 

Red eyes danced up your figure, tracing the outline of your waist and hips under the towel wrapped around your body. The red fabric only covered you from your chest to mid thigh and left a sizable amount of both peeking out either end. The water and steam made your skin supple and it seemed to glow under the warm lighting of his room. You felt your face heat up under his watchful eyes and the room seemed to heat up several degrees in the few seconds he had been dragging his eyes up and down your body. 

His lidded eyes finally met yours, peering up at you from between his dark lashes. It felt like they were looking straight through you, into your head and your exact thoughts on the situation. Bakugou shifted, as if to move towards you. 

Knock knock. 

You started, hand gripped your towel tighter against your chest. The noise had knocked you both out of whatever trace you had fallen into and the awkward energy from earlier returned tenfold. 

“Hey dude, I got the clothes you asked for” Kirishima’s enthusiastic voice echoed from behind the thin wood of the door, “I didn’t know what to get so I kinda grabbed a bunch.”

“Leave them by the door”

You furrowed your eyebrows at him as he got up, opening the door and throwing your clothes on the bed where his body had been not ten seconds earlier. Grumbling, he left and slammed the door behind him. 

“Tell me when you’re dressed or whatever.”

And with that, you were alone, wondering what the hell had just happened. 

thank you for reading! if you want to be added to the taglist for the whole series, or just Bakugou's parts lmk <3 reblogs and comments are appreciated

[mychlapci]

🔌 talking about Jazz buying Soundwave’s silence with pics of ageswap Prowl from Sunstreaker has me actually going insane. That whole ask had me transcending but that last little aside paragraph made me crazy. Just thinking about Soundwave flicking through image files of Prowl, palming his modesty panel in anticipation. Him seeing the slow progression of events, the steady escalation to the current point, through the pics and short vids. Imagining what must have happened in between.

The first, Prowl humiliated and flushing from his position between Sunstreaker’s legs—a PoV from the frontliner. The trainee’s spike wilting from an embarrassing premature overload. Another, a brief clip of Prowl begging his mentors not to lock his ‘little spike’ up. The follow-up photo of him angry and teary opticked, spike ringed and sounded (and still achingly hard) after a successful trial run where Sunstreaker actually got to overload. A vid from Prowl being sparkling sat by Ratchet for the first time, toying with his spike while being timed. Ratchet’s voice crooning humiliating encouragement. Soundwave is… *entranced* by the imagery, stroking his spike mindlessly as the slideshow continues.

Prowl, milk-drunk as he nurses from first Ratchet and then a whole host of other mechs. Sleepy and dependent and trusting and safe. Sometimes there and hands stroking that ringed spike, sometimes not. Prowl sucking on his training dildos, thighs trembling as his plug and his mentors reward him. A close up of the trainee in a high, mewling overload. The one that makes Soundwave come is Prowl warming Optimus Prime’s spike, especially the squirming and helpless whining as he loses control and wets all over the mech’s lap. But the slideshow continues, and Soundwave just… keeps stroking his sensitive spike. The control appeals to him, of course, but the *caretaking* aspect being tied up in the dominance and humiliation is crossing some wires up there for sure. And Soundwave loves it. Watching this mechling slowly submit via attrition, diving deeper into blissful, thoroughly spoiled submission and dependence on the mentors that watch over him. It’s a heady thought for a host model in general. It doesn’t help that Soundwave has compatible fetishes.

Prowl in his first dress, cheekplates flushed with energon as he curtsies for the camera. The fluffy petticoats shifted to reveal the silky white panties. Another of just the array. A string of pearls disappearing between Prowl’s valve lips—a delicate thong for a spoiled little mech. Prowl in a dress, holding a plush petrorabbit. A vid of him humping his toys in his sleep. The look of devastation on his face when he lost pussy privileges, followed closely by Prowl mindlessly grinding on a giant teddy. And Soundwave’s overloading again to the silly trainee fragging the toy in front of the *entirety of Autobot high command* whimpering and embarrassed as they encourage their desperate little mech.

Soundwave can’t help masturbate to the pics again and again, the idea so delicious. And Prowl so blissful and sweet, radiant and pudgy with all of the attention and milky. It’s the perfect fantasy… a loudmouthed brat of a cadet blossoming into a precious, subby little mechling. Trusting and accepting of his mentors’ direction. It’s just a fantasy, but Soundwave can’t help slowly turning his visor to Rumble and Frenzy. They’re grown, of course. But then so is Prowl… and the mental image was delicious. Something soft and sweet to spoil. Brats to train into needy “bitlets.” The first time Soundwave overloads to the idea of his cassettes begging him not to cage their spikes, he knows he’s sold. Maybe the autobots’ little mechling would like some playmates. He’s going to need to lay down some groundwork.

Of course, unlike Prowl who “hates” it but turns into a pile of submissive goo, Rumble and Frenzy “hate” it and compensate by being even brattier. Maybe boss will give up on it and free their little spikelets if they’re too much trouble. Never mind how safe and secure it feels to know that Soundwave still wants them no matter how naughty they are. Plenty of teasing spankings that leave afts stinging and panels warm. Embarrassing time-outs in the corner where anyone could come in and see them. Humiliation, but dedication in return. The arousal keeps building with nowhere to go, and soon they’re humping each other’s caged cocklets as Soundwave watches indulgently. Promising an overload if they’re good little mechlings who play nicely together. It’s all a plan to get them too pent up to fight it and then letting them ruin their stamina by overloading again and again. As many cycles of this as it takes until they prove to themselves that they need their boss to control their overloads, because they keep rubbing their spikes raw. Until they’re whining that it isn’t fair Prowl can touch his little spike, begging for the privilege of a ring so they can torture themselves.

It won’t be long before Jazz is receiving a slideshow in return. —☀️

ouhhh it's probably not the best idea to provide the decepticons with such sensitive materials, but they're lucky Soundwave is a freak. Seeing how well they've trained their little cadet has him brimming with ideas. He's never seen a bot beg to have their spike tied up and plugged, usually they beg for the opposite... hrghh Rumble and Frenzy aren't quite as soft and pliable, always putting up a fight, but Soundwave can make good boys out of them <33 Once they're begging for him to control their overloads, he knows he did it right.

[pearlywritings]

A nickname's origin

synopsis: after meeting your lover's family and having a great start of your trip to Morepesok, Childe wakes you early in the morning, because he has something to show you...

prompt: 21

requested by: a lovely anon

pairing: Childe x fem!reader

tw: fluff, established relationship, usage of Childe's real name

word count: 1.5k+ words

a/n: part of my Token of appreciation writing event! Closed now, still have 3 more requests to write.

“Isn’t the scenery marvelous?”

It absolutely is. Snowy planes sparkle in the rising sun as if the ground is covered by richest furs and most precious gems - it’s almost blinding. The giant pine trees look enormous even kilometers away from you, creating a thick forestland; you remember how your lover told you that it is home for many species you can’t find anywhere but Snezhnaya. Looking back, you release a puff of warm air, adoring the sight of wooden cottages - or how the locals call those izba’s - lining perfectly, each with a fence, which is carved with intricate patterns and charms to protect from evil spirits. Smoke curls from the chimneys and it immediately reminds you where you are.

Outside. In the early hours of the morning.

“Wish we were watching it from the inside of your family’s house,” yawning, you reach to adjust the scarf - along with the hat it was knitted by his mom and gifted to you with the warmest of smiles. It’s been just a couple of minutes since you two exited the village and the cold is already biting the few uncovered areas of your face.

Ajax laughs. Heartily, with his hands resting on his hips and head thrown back. Of course, he is laughing, of course he’s going to suffer less - he was born and lived all his life in such an environment.

“It’s not funny!” Your huff is ignored and a punch that was aimed to his shoulder is easily caught by his palm. 

“Sorry, sorry. I just imagined how my siblings would’ve been glued to your sides and mama and papa continued their yesterday’s quest to ask you hundreds of questions. Don’t be mad, I thought you’d like to have a little break, at least for half a day, my fierce ounce.”

Ounce. That’s what he’s been calling you for the longest time now, yet never, never, telling you what that means (but he did assure you it’s a good thing, he loves you after all). However, he promised to show you once you come with him to Snezhnaya to visit his family.

To make it short - here you are, in Morepesok, at dawn, with your gingerhead of a fiance, motivated to stay in this harsh weather only to finally find out what or who was your lover’s inspiration behind his nickname for you.

“You have a point,” you sigh. You are happy his relatives were excited to meet and accept you, so much joy filled your heart yesterday, when you arrived. But dealing with so many people drained you - just a second of your head touching the pillow was enough to send you right to the gates of the dreamland. “I need some energy-refill before being ready to maintain a proper conversation with them again…”

“Don’t forget that the whole village wants to meet a lovely bride I brought with me,” it makes your groan.

“Is that really necessary..?”

“It’s a tradition. But it’s going to be fine, I promise,” the snow crunches under his heavy felt boots as he steps closer, arms circling your waist, and lips touching the bridge of your nose, making you close your eyes. Oh, the frost is already brimming your eyelashes. “Mama and papa are going to organize a feast - to celebrate you, to show you are a part of the family now, and our neighbors are going to come to congratulate us and bring some presents.”

“Well, I like presents,” his words and embrace soothe you, and you bury your face into the fur of his sheepskin coat. “And I like people acknowledging our relationship.”

“See? It’s a win-win,” he grins widely, boyishly, and it’s enough to reassure you. After all, you won’t be alone - he will be by your side.

“Alright, alright. Now, can we move? it’s getting cold, even with all these extra layers of clothes…”

“Sorry, baby. See that forest? There are mountains on the other side, that’s where we are heading to.”

“Wait, we’ll have to climb?” You look at him incredulously, perfectly aware that neither your clothes, nor your abilities are suitable for such an activity. Childe pats your back reassuringly.

“Nope, simply observe from a good spot. Come on, to that house to the left my dear, I made an agreement with Uncle Vladislav to give us a ride. Don't let go of my hand, alright? The path can be a bit slippery.”

The first experience of riding in the sleigh drawn by horses was magical. Though it was open, you had a very warm fur blanket covering your legs, snuggling into Childe’s side, taking in the vast snow fields surrounding you. Uncle Vladislav appeared to be a nice old man, with a long beard and bushy white eyebrows that almost covered his gray eyes. Before the ride he let you offer some carrots to the three beautiful white horses and gently pat their big noses. And during the ride he managed to entertain you with all kinds of stories of local folklore - his words perfectly flying behind his back and to you, and then he even started singing. Something about three white horses named December, January and February taking him somewhere into the ringing snowy far far away. You even managed to doze off a little - your lover had to shake you out of it when you finally arrived.

“Wow, we’ve ridden right into the forest?” You can’t help but ask in astonishment - from the distance the forest looked absolutely dense, but now you can clearly see a road wide enough to get through the way you did.

“Cool, right?” The smiling gingerhead offers you his hand, before turning to the old man. “Uncle, it can take some time, sure you want to wait for us?”

“Haha, that’s a funny thing you ask, chap. If I make you walk back your mother will have my head. Not that I was going to do so in the first place. Don’t worry about the cold - for the worst case scenario I have a bottle of fire-water with me. Might offer you and your girl to take a sip when you return.”

“Hope, it won’t be necessary!” Clasping his gloved fingers around yours, clad in mittens, the young man leads you away with a giddy look in his eyes.

“Sooo, are you ready to see a real ounce?” That wide boyish smile is back on his face and excitement exhilarates in your system. Ready? You were born ready. At your enthusiastic nods Childe presses his nose to your temple, gently rubbing in affection. “Great, because we are almost here. But please, be careful. Even with all that snow you can easily trip. And above all, do not let go…” his hold on your hand tightens. “For any reason, understood?”

“Ajax, if you tell me this one more time, I will let go. You've been telling me this since yesterday as if there is danger looming over me. Then again, how are you gonna protect me with one hand occupied? Or- Oh. Ooooh~” a smug smile appears on your lips. “Is my darling clingy~?”

He whines something about being worried and protecting you with no hands at all, to which you just laugh, promising that you are just teasing. And it's not like you can resist his adorable devoted clinginess - thus the lock of hands stays unbroken.

Not a couple of minutes later you are standing in a clear spot among the rows of trees which is enough to see the side of the mountain above the coniferous tops. Your lover is squinting, sharp eyes searching the expanse of the rocky surface. You patiently wait, quickly realizing that it’s pointless to stare there not knowing what you are looking for. Besides, admiring Ajax doing such a concentrated face is a treat.

Finally his eyes widen and a toothy grin tugs his mouth wide.

“Well, my dear, we are lucky. Look at that cliff.”

Trying your best to follow the direction of his unoccupied hand pointing you to lift your gaze. A thin ribbon of steam is momentarily broken when your breath hitches - and there is a solid reason for it.

A majestically looking large cat is getting ready to make a jump to the next protruding ledge. Fur is whitish to grey with black spots on the head and neck, with larger rosettes on the back, flanks and bushy tail. Oh, the tail. It’s so long and thick, like a whole other body. And then the animal jumps, flawlessly landing on all paws and getting a nice stretch, as if showing off specifically for the two of you.

“It’s a snow leopard,” your partner explains. “But here we call them ‘ounces’.”

“It’s… It’s so pretty…” You can’t take your eyes from the creature, so perfect among the snowy mountains.

“Part of the reason I gave you this nickname,” he embraces you from behind, putting his chin on top of your head and gently rocking your body in place. “Another part is because you are fierce and strong and also I really loved these animals when I was a kid. Always begged dad to take me hunting birds just to see the cats.”

“Aww, it’s so sweet,” despite the freezing cold your heart melts and you put your palms on top of his locked on your stomach. “But why being a tease and calling me a word I don’t know? Why not ‘my snow leopard’ instead?”

“About that… Let’s just say I wanted to keep the intrigue and increase my chances when convincing you to visit my homeland.”

A sheepish chuckle that follows makes you want to give him a little punch, but you quickly decide against it. Admittedly, Ajax did everything perfectly - this whole trip to Morepesok has been excellent so far, and he did not disappoint with the inspiration behind this unique term of endearment.

“Can we watch it a little bit more?” 

“As long as you want, my pretty ounce."

[witchofthesouls]

Let Mikaela turn into an ice breathing predacon. Let her win.

She deserves it. And her own mythical weapon of questionable sentience. And a fucking familiar because why not!?

I actually had a whole thing with the Bayverse after Other!TFP!trip crossover with the Unfathomable!June being a June-is-Megatronus as well.

It basically picks up what happens when the TFP crew goes back to their dimension. Now, Bayverse needs to navigate a Mikaela that can't return to human life, the Foundation and its authority, and Unicron's stirring.

As well as what does it mean to have a Dragon walk upon Earth again...

________

"Mikaela," Mrs. Darby says her name deliberately, and Pilar is nowhere in the vicinity. The other dragonformer had delved quickly into the sea, disappearing into the depths.

It's strange; between the battle where she overcame Megatron in that moment of shock, the rescue by the Autobots, her first flying escape and crash in the middle of nowhere, and then being put through her paces under Pilar's inescapable and heavy training grip...

Mikaela hasn't had the time to have a face-to-face with the entity that made her newfound body possible.

Something squirms beneath Mrs. Darby's robes, and Mikaela can't help the tension that fizzles up her back, the strange ripple of flattening platelets as her senses sharpen, attention stolen and unable to move away from anticipation; change.

(Later, the closest description Mikaela would liken this quirk is the Shatterpoints from Star Wars - an event, place, person, or even a thing that holds so much divergence to tip the scales of fate itself.)

Mrs. Darby, with infinite patience and obvious movements, opens a new seam and out comes-

A small puppy in the middle of her palm.

"This is a gift." Mrs. Darby says, calm as the waves, her intentions just as clear as the water and giant woman holds out the animal. "No strings attached. Do what you wish."

Mikaela takes it. A pair of bright blue eyes blink at her, and a cool nose pokes at her. Unafraid of the metal as it tentatively sniffs before a little tongue laps warmly across her thumb. Purposely dabbling into her newfound electric blue blood.

Mrs. Darby stops her fussing. "Let it. Allow it to know you. This isn't a mere mortal canine. This one, depending on how you it raise to adulthood, can be a leisure companion or a battle one."

The puppy chuffs, whimpering as the breeze picks up. Mikaela can't help but think that even the base is too cold for the poor thing. She tentatively heats up her palm, evaporating the seawater and condensation. Something that could potentially sear someone but the puppy happily yips, stubby tail wagging.

"Why now?" Why me? Mikaela asks.

"Because we're going home soon." Mrs. Darby answers. In those blue optics, Mikaela sees a burning pyre of an altar where Sam withered, but she stepped forward to answer the call. "This one can prove indispensable when you battle Megatron and others."

Not if. When. A forgone conclusion. A warning and a promise.

"I beat him before." She tries to muster that initial feeling. Something between dream and reality as she steps out of a supernova, wreathed in lightning and thunder with firestorm blooming at each step she had taken.

"You bested him because he was caught unaware." It's not a chide nor admonishment. A statement. Given in that gentle inflection. "You didn't kill him, and he won't fall for it twice."

A god that remembers the beginning of everything and a girl that became something between mortal and divine sit together in companionable silence. Mikaela feels the other woman pulling her hair into braids, humming something that's both foreign and familiar, and her optics water as she smells her early childhood in that whiff of perfume.

(Before her dad went to prison, there was her mom, but then she went away into a grave and nothing was the same.)

"Ask Pilar about familiars." Mrs. Darby murmurs in her ear, and when Mikaela opens her eyes (she hasn't realized she closed them), she's by herself with laurel leaves in her metal hair.

_______

That night, Mikaela dreams of unknown constellations that match her armor and a warbeast with lightning for eyes and dancing flames at its paws.

[gaybananabread]

@pocky-dragon Hello there! First of all I really enjoy your fics and headcannons and I was wondering if you have any headcannons/thoughts on Casey from rottmnt?

(I'm dumb and deleted the ask again-)

🏒Casey Jr Tkl Headcanons💚

~AN: Eergejehhesh my BOOOOOY! Pocky you have no idea how long I've been wanting to do something for this mans- Now that events are done, hopefully I can get back up and running! Thank you for requesting!~

Gen:

Things weren't totally serious, totally crazy all the time in his timeline

Before Raph and Donnie…moved on, everyone was fairly optimistic. I mean, sure, it was the apocalypse, but they had hope.

When Casey was little, all four brothers would take turns playing with him. While each one had very different interactions, they all universally loved doing one thing: tickling him.

After all the sadness, Big Leo still tried to keep things uplifting for the boy.

He rarely full-on tickled him, but a few light pokes or squeezes here and there were the perfect thing to put a smile on the teen’s face.

Big Mikey would abuse his powers and sneak up behind Casey, squeezing his sides or teasing his neck.

Occasionally, when the boy was really down in the dumps, holding his arms while Big Leo cheered him up with some tickles.

Lee:

Let's all be honest here: he's a lee. No matter how hard he tries, he always ends up getting his ass handed to him.

Not that he doesn't adore it, of course.

He sees it as a fun way to bond with his new family, even if they do tease the shell out of him.

Worst spots are his hips, belly button and armpits. He likes all of them, though his melt spot is his palms; the best snorty-giggles stem from there.

Bushiest boi, will turn red as fresh cherries if you tease him right~

While he loves tickles from the whole Hamato fam, his favorite lers would have to be Raph and Leo.

He never really got to know Big Raph, but young him is a giant, compassionate teddy bear. A teddy bear that also happens to have a night job as a professional tickle monster!

As for Leo, he'd always felt close to the blue-themed turtle. Besides the obvious connections to his Leo, the guy’s just fun to be around.

The jokes get him giggling, and he feels safe around Leo.

Reigning loser of every tickle fight ever.

He's won maybe twice. Once against a very sleepy Leo, and again with a partner.

Self-conscious about his laugh, but the fam works daily to try and help him jump that hurdle! -♡

Little pill bug: his first response to anything tickly, from pokes to full-on tickled, is curling up into a tiny ball.

Adorable to watch, and even cuter to hear his little squeal when you get to his spots anyway!

Ler:

Rarely happens, but he's still not bad!

Really giggly ler, likes to laugh with his lee.

Definitely gets flustered when someone asks to be tickled by him.

Again, rare, but it does occasionally happen.

He's afraid of hurting them, so only the gentlest of tickles and little scritches unless/until they ask for more.

When he does tickle someone, it's usually Leo, Mikey or April.

Leo is a sorta-undercover angst lord, and Casey likes to hear him laugh when he's bummed or overthinking things.

Mikey is just playful. He'll annoy Casey, mostly on purpose, and get what's coming to him. Other times, he'll be attempting to help the artsy turtle with his makeup and tickle him with the brushes. Intentional or not, I'll let you decide…

With April, it's almost always circumstantial. Dragged into a random tickle fight, Raph asking for backup, Donnie needing someone to do his dirty work.

April tickles him more than he ever gets her. Very few times does it happen, but he's capable of giving revenge tickles.

Doesn't usually tease, but he will compliment his lee's laugh and/or reactions.

“I love your laugh, it's so happy!” “Hey, don't be ashamed of the blush. Red's a good color on you!” “Was that a snort? No, don't hide it, that's adorable!”

It took a while to get to that point, but with self confidence and a whole family of support, he can finally start putting himself out there. Even if it is with something as goofy as tickling.

[kazyurmao]

𝓢𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮: 𝓞𝓷𝓮 𝓢𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰'𝓼 𝓝𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽

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      𝓢𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮

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Diluc Ragnvindr x Female Reader

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⚘ Synopsis: A young noblelady  is convinced to attend a party that is being held by the House of Ragnvindr

⚘ Synopsis for chapter: Entering the manor of the Ragnvindr, you are quick to notice that it is impossible to not avoid the gossip of the nobles.

⚘ Warnings: Slow–burn. Fem-reader, Social Class.

*Clarifying: both the prologue and first few chapters of this series take place before the events of Diluc's father dying. Hence the reason for both the reader and Diluc being the age of 14 as of right now.

⚘ Word Count: 2,6k

⚘ Previous Chapter: 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓰𝓾𝓮 :𝓞𝓷𝓮 𝓢𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰'𝓼 𝓝𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽

⚘ Key: (F.N) = Father's name , (F.L.N) = Family's last name , (l.n) = Last name

⚘ 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓘 :𝓞𝓷𝓮 𝓢𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰'𝓼 𝓝𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽

A peaceful, friendly gold, luminous ray surrounded the outside environment of the manor. Giant windows decorated the House of Ragnvindr—displaying the grand party for the Duke’s son. A line of carriages parked near the circular driveway, and butlers and maids stood in line to bow their heads to the rich.

It was a cold evening. The breeze was gentle—letting its guard down. There were no blades of sharp wind that could spear through the lungs of the nobles.

Indeed, the god of the wind is blessing the young and future Duke—Diluc Ragnvindr. The party was to commemorate his fourteenth birthday, alongside his uprising of becoming the Calvary Captain at such a young age. His father, Crepus Ragnvindr, clearly wanted to brag about his son. But who wouldn’t? When the young boy has a prosperous future ahead. Everyone craves power, and it is clear that Diluc Ragnvindr—despite his age—is the most powerful noble.

The party was, well, extravagant—the sight of calla lilies is what captured your attention. The whole great hall was decorated with the white bulbs and their signature orange—ombré—red, truly a remarkable flower. Entering the house of Ragnvindr felt like you were entering a magical place—a realm of its own. It almost felt…like you had become a princess. It was weird. This very manner felt like your true home—it almost felt acquainted, as if you were once here.

Déjà vu was a foe of yours. You were led from the corridor to the main living area, where the party was held. You immediately felt the eyes of all the nobles. They were perplexed. The daughter of Duke (F.N) at last made her first appearance.

“Is she finally debuting?” one older noble lady hid her whispers behind her overly decorated fan, “How—How—preposterous! Debuting at a time like this! Is she not shameful to appear right now when the party is clearly about the young future Duke of Ragnvindr!” Another—older—lady spoke. They both complained when a third party interrupted their rant, “Are you both not ashamed to make those remarks around the young lady? For all we know, her father could’ve forced her! The (F.L.N) don’t have shame! I take pity on the young lady.” A much older man—with a gruff voice—began to shame on her family.

You mentally groaned at how they were all shameful, to not only begin gossiping in front of you but also badmouth your family! The whispering of those nobles, who keep a tab with the latest gossip, drives you into insanity—well, close, but you aren’t quite there yet. Soon, and you know this, the gossip would turn its attention to Diluc Ragnvindr. You can’t help but feel a twinge of pity toward Diluc. Just knowing that there are nobles out in this world who overindulge in petty gossip is enough to drive anyone into isolation—you know this since you have isolated yourself from the noble life.

Cheers break loose, and the sound of palms hitting against each other echoes through the ball. The star of the show had made his big entranced; his face was decorated with a confident smile. The squeals of young ladies also infiltrated the lively scenery. As he stepped into his party—that had been dedicated to him—he bowed and shamelessly waved at the group of ladies who hoped to be married to him. You had separated yourself from the large group of people since the commotion they created at the sight of Diluc was too loud for your ears. Of course, you still weren’t used to the public lifestyle.

Weirdly, you were a bit thankful to your father for convincing you to attend this party. In the future, you knew you had to be acquainted with this type of scenery; if you didn’t practice your skills right now…it would only lead you to be estranged from the rest of the nobles. You watched, from afar, the way Diluc was the happiest boy. Who wouldn’t after being named the most powerful noble in all Mondstadt? His soft features, in all honesty, did not match his position. He looked way too innocent to fit the title of Calvary captain.

Rumors were not wrong—the boy who stood afar from you appeared to be the gentleman—but then again, everything is an act. For all you know, the man who acts like a gentleman in public could be prideful and overly cocky. You watch all the nobles line up to greet and congratulate a child. If the church were to witness this very sight, they would have deemed it blasphemous for nobles to worship a young boy.

You were on the brink of leaving the party to explore the magnificent gardens— that were just decorated for the occasion. However, your eyes somehow meet the ruby eyes of the boy, who is the same age as you. When you stare at him, something feels so familiar, as if you had met those eyes countless times. They—his eyes—felt so welcoming, so familiar. It was like you had entered heaven. You quickly look away—-this—this is such a familiar yet foreign feeling. This is your first time meeting him, so why does it feel like you have met him before? You wonder if he feels the same. From your perspective, his eyes held an endearing soft look, as if he had known who you were at first glance. When you had looked back at him—his eyes had drifted back to a conversation he was having with Duke Gunnhild. Have you been making all of this up? Was your imagination toying with your soul?

You were quickly snapped back into reality; you remembered that your purpose was to avoid him. You knew that you had failed to prevent the noble society from gossiping about you, but if you were caught stealing glances with Diluc Ragnvindr…everything would go downhill. Despite your goal being engraved in your mind, you knew you had one flaw. No matter what, you couldn’t avoid the birthday boy. It was your duty as the daughter of (F.L.N) to be polite—to be able to greet the host. Your family might be influential, but the family of Ragnvindr is more crucial for the industry of Mondstadt. Being the tycoon of the wine industry in the nation of freedom, nobody can compete with their title. It would be impossible and even deemed monstrous for not greeting him.

You quickly and gracefully drink the sparkling water given to you by a kind maid. The water runs down your throat, and you can feel small pops against your esophagus. You make a mental note of how much you hate sparkling water.

You start walking towards the Calvary Captain. On your way, you can feel your heartbeat race exponentially. The heart that allocates inside your body had never felt this way. A mixture of anxiety and adrenaline consumed your body. Your fingers even shocked each step you took. It was apparent now that the room was cold—extremely—cold. The room felt more unwelcoming. The glances of the nobles and your incompetence to be confident engulfed your paranoia. Everything you thought was plummeting down. The more you moved closer—the more dread you felt. But that quickly shifted as you seemingly moved closer toward the young Ragnvindr. Instead of shivering cold, you felt the warmth build-up. It got to the point where it was excessively scalding to move further closer to him.

It was as if an invisible barrier was preventing you from meeting him. “Oh? Greetings, you must be (y.n) (l.n), the daughter of House of (F.L.N). A pleasure is to meet you, my lady.” While you clung in your small world and reflections, it appeared that Diluc Ragnvindr had taken his initiative to greet you. He snapped you out of your worries as you heard his soft, friendly voice greet you. You looked up at him, staring at him with amazement—it was as if he could read your mind. His ruby-red eyes did not hold the gaze you saw when his eyes captured yours. It was more of a friendly, casual greeting. One that he gave to everyone. Perhaps it was, indeed, your imagination.

“Good evening to you, Lord Diluc Ragnvindr. I wish to congratulate you on your accomplishments.” Politely responding to him, a polite smile adorned your face. You raise your fan closely to your mouth to cover your face, “I hope your grace likes the gift from the house of (F.L.N). My father sends congratulatory sentiments to the young lord.” With a small courtesy bow, you signal your lady-in-waiting to hand him his present. “We used the finest jewels out there; we hope it is up to your standards.”

You close your eyes, afraid he might react badly that his gift isn’t up to his standards. However, your ears are graced with a peal of laughter, “My lady, I appreciate the gift. There is no need to be too formal. We are the same age, of course! So why should we act like we are adults?” Your eyes widen…he’s not being formal…

You wanted to scoff. He has the luxury of not caring what others think since being the sweetheart of this nation can give you a free pass. As much as you desire to lash out in front of him, it would be too rude and scandalous to act how you wanted. You understand he meant it sincerely. After all, you both are just children. He isn’t wrong. A tiny laugh was released from your lips, “Oh my…that would simply be too impolite to address Lord Diluc in such a manner.” Feeling miniature drops of sweat form on your forehead—you weren’t sure if it was just you, but it was intensely hot. “My…” you mutter under your breath.

Diluc is the Calvary Captain of the Knights of Favonius. Of course, he can read people’s expressions quite well. He didn’t hesitate to laugh at your expression, “I apologize. I didn’t know I would be this happy today. It seems like I can’t contain my emotions.” He sheepishly stated. You can see how he scratched the back of his neck with his right hand. He slightly opens up his suit near his chest, taking out a small object that is illuminated red, “Ahem…this is the source of warmth—I can tell you’re…erm..sweating.” Hearing his throat clear and hearing him state how you were sweating made you embarrassed. You quickly cover the entirety of your face and turn around, “I’ll excuse myself. It seems as if others wish to see you, my lord.” Leaving immediately, you began to walk faster towards the gardens. So the source of the scalding fire was his vision…

Wait vision?

At such a young age, he has an elemental vision. No less, he possesses a pyro vision! He, Diluc Ragnvindr, is truly blessed by the gods…

That shameless man! Claiming to be a gentleman, yet he dares to emphasize the obvious (you sweating.) You make your way towards the gardens, feeling shaken by the interaction. You can’t quite place how you felt when speaking to him. It was…rather an interesting yet humiliating interaction. Though you must admit that his smooth voice is quite soothing, it was rich—a bit authoritarian—yet caring. You…can’t describe it. No. No, you can’t when he speaks. His pronunciation is elegant—it is almost angelic when he speaks.

You can tell how his chest rises when his stentorian voice leaves his silky pink lips. When his voice reached your ears, it almost felt like—like—you…,

“I shouldn’t think of this…” you stumble with your words—you try your best to balance your breathing pattern, yet it seems futile. You had sped walked towards your destination, and your mind had plagued itself with the thoughts of him. He, Diluc Ragnvindr, is a bewitching creature, indeed. Leaving you, more like leaving him, for you to only think solely about him.

At last, catching your breath, you gather your thoughts, walking around the well-kept garden that houses the native flower of Mondstadt. The flowers are freshly watered; you can even see the petals drip the droplets of moisture. You roam around the foreign setting for an unknown amount of time. You admire the beauty, yet you can’t help but feel like the garden that you created was better. A small bench presented itself—it sat facing the lake that acted as a border from Liyue. The anemo crystalflies beautify the scenery, giving you a source of light to guide your vision towards the stars.

At a glance, you thought everything was perfectly fair. However, you had failed to realize how you were slowly dozing off. Your eyes were swift to shut themselves down. It was a quick swoosh of the wind, and soon, your consciousness took you to an acquainted setting. Your arms molded into the hands of a stranger, but you knew who this stranger was since it was the same man who held you dearly. His hands traced towards your face; you felt a smallish tingle on your right cheek—he had pinched your cheek. Again, this stranger had seemed to move his lips—yet—to much of your disappointment, his words were blocked out. He entangled his fingers with yours, and you couldn’t help but feel his fingers having slight cuts. Frowning instantly, you looked up towards him, “Why…why must you hurt yourself?”

Your words seemed to bear deafness to his ears as the man never responded to you. He wrapped his muscular arms around your waist as his face nuzzled against your neck. Feeling the firmness and his breath gently puff against your neck, he oddly smelled and felt a speck of familiarity, yet you couldn’t precisely point it out.

It was as if you had fallen while you slept—that’s precisely how you could describe your situation. You felt a gravitational pull drag you down south; your heart dropped the instant you felt a shiver travel all over your body. You were in shock. You wake up to find yourself lying on a relatively comfortable bed. Graced by the soft—dark—blue hair, a young boy stood with his eyes wide open. He seemed to be a couple of years younger than the young lord (Diluc). Perhaps one or two years younger? You couldn’t guess.

“You’re awake!” he exclaimed. He seemed to be relieved that you had woken up. This brought you into confusion. What happened precisely…? And why weren’t you back in your manner? The nerves in your body quickly transmit a signal to your brain, and you instantly hiss at the pain you are receiving. You were about to get up, but the boy shoved you back into the bed, “I’ll inform father that you woke up!” You held your hands near your forehead. Why was he shouting? Perhaps he is thankful that you woke up from this slumber. Your head nodded weakly; you looked back at the young child, and it was quite an adorable sight. His little hands latched onto the mattress, and his figure leaned towards you. Immediately, you noted that his eyes had the shade of a cute periwinkle. So this must be Duke Ragnvindr's adopted son.

You saw how he dashed out of the room; you assume he was directed towards the Duke’s office. Left alone, you can’t stop thinking about what exactly led you to this point.

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Miffyur’s note:

Hiii, happy belated Valentine's day! Well this was originally supposed to be uploaded by that time, but it's 11:47, which means I failed to upload this on time D:

I had writer's block for awhile, and it honestly caused me to not want to write. Things happen! (a lot) , hopefully eveything sails smoothly from now on.

(If you want to be tagged for future updates, please let me know! I'll make sure to tag everyone <3)

Bye Bye!

Miffyur (\_/)

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[racheyace]

You know how Luke has nightmares about being giant and accidentally hurting people, has Matt every had a nightmare about accidentally hurting Luke while he was tiny?

My Dear Anon

Yes, he has. Though he would never admit it to Luke, shortly after the events of HOME, Luke invites Matt over for a sleepover and Matt feels paranoid as he goes off to sleep, he then dreams of waking to find Luke small.

Approx 1.3k words. just an itty bitty short story. Enjoy!

Matt's Nightmare One

“Dude what happened, why are you small right now? Are you okay?” Matt kneels in front of his friend; it had been a few weeks since he’d last seen him this size and that interaction hadn’t been perfect, but he maintained that he had kept his friend safe. Something in Luke’s little blue eyes however made him feel like Luke was looking through him, like he was a stranger in his eyes.

“Luke? It’s me Matt, you're okay.” Matt lowered himself further to the ground, feeling a sense of dread wash through him as he noted Luke take a few slow steps backwards and away from him.

It reminded him of the feeling left in his heart after he’d initially gone to grab at Luke without warning a few weeks ago outside of their math teachers office. Luke’s eyes had gone wide, and he’d run from him then until he was out of reach under the door. Matt had felt horrible for scaring his friend like that. He’d known Luke was shrinking and promised to be supportive of his friend however his first reaction was to grab him.

“Don’t touch me!” Luke suddenly shouted up at him, Matt flinched as though Luke had just slapped him hard across the face. Why was he acting like this?

“I swear I won’t touch you dude, just chill.” Matt tried again to calm his friend, he noted Luke’s impossibly small chest rising and falling at a worryingly fast pace, this wasn’t working. It made him wonder if this is how Luke felt when he was a giant, just monstrously too big.

A scream pierced the air and Matt watched in horror as a hand chased Luke, causing him to flee in panic, Matt’s heart dropped to his stomach when he realised it was his own hand chasing after his friend.

“STOP!” Matt screamed at his hand, but it did no good instead it only made things worse causing Luke to stumble from the volume of his voice and trip over his own feet, he rolled into a huddled ball on the cold floor, holding his hands tightly to his ears.

“I’m sorry!” Matt cried, his hand would not stop though, it was as though it had a mind of its own, he could only watch in horror as his hand dipped under Luke’s body, nudging it into his palm.

Finally, Matt regained control of himself, he intended to put Luke back on the ground but felt a sense of comfort knowing he was holding his friend safely, maybe now he could convince Luke that he was safe and with his friend.

“Luke, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to grab you, I couldn’t stop myself, I swear your safe and I won’t do it again.” Luke was unresponsive in his palm, the only indicator that Luke was even conscious was the flutter of his miniscule breaths against the base of his palm.

Matt reached for his friend again, this time only a single finger hoping to poke Luke playfully and get a laugh out of him, the reaction he got was far from a laugh though.

Luke’s scream echoed through the room as Matt’s finger made contact with Luke’s side, Luke’s whole body convulsed, and he wrapped his small arms around his waist in pain.

“Luke what- what just happened?” Matt exclaimed, he inched his face closer to get a better look, had he done that? Had he just hurt his friend? He had barely touched him and yet Luke was holding his middle in pain as though he’d just broken a rib.

“Matt STOP!” Luke screamed, this was the first time Luke had acknowledged him by name, recognising him for who he was, but somehow this didn’t make Matt feel any better anymore.

Matt watched in horror as the fingers surrounding Luke began to twitch, Luke’s eyes widened in fear watching and being unable to do anything to stop him. Matt urged his fingers to remain still, but they disobeyed him, slowly closing in on his best friend who was helpless and at his mercy completely.

“Matt please!” Luke cried, tears falling freely as the hand closed around him, Matt felt his small frame hot against his fingers, his chest beating wildly against his skin, every miniscule bone and joint Matt could feel with acute clarity. So fragile, so alive and yet helpless against something as insignificant as his own fist.

His fingers did not relent though, instead squeezing tighter, Luke’s face went red and his breathes came out in laboured pants as his chest was restricted further, his lungs tight with the effort of drawing a full breath.

And then a crack.

Matt felt sick as he watched Luke’s eyes gloss over before they closed completely, and he went limp.

“Luke! Wake up! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!” He wanted to shake his hand, shake Luke awake but he was so scared he would only hurt him further.

“Luke! I’m sorry! Please wake up!” Hot tears stung his hazel eyes and he cried, he released his friend from the restrictive grip and let him lay limply in his palm. He was unconscious but still breathing, he’d hurt him, hurt him badly.

“Luke.” Matt’s soft whimper faded out and the image in front of him blurred.

Matt blinked his eyes until the world around him refocused, the rhythmic buzz and whir of the fan in the room blew cold air against his sweaty skin and he stared at the ceiling above him.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position, taking in his surroundings and recognising the space as Luke’s spare room in his granny flat. He rubbed a hand over his face taking a few calming breathes as he remembered he had come over to Luke’s for a sleep over last night, the first time he’d been invited over since he found out about Luke’s ability.

“It was just a dream.” He whispered to himself, he looked around again and suddenly felt unsure, scared and alone, so he got up and quietly tiptoed out of the room.

He wanted to see for himself that Luke was okay. He couldn’t shake the sick feeling from his stomach, the feeling of being a monster.

He gently pushed the door open and peeked in, he could see his friend curled up on his large queen bed, he had his fan oscillating as well, cooling the humid room as it was a hot night. The lump that was Luke’s body under the covers rose and fell gently, indicating that he was still asleep.

Matt was about to turn around and head back into his own room for the remainder of the night, the rules were that Matt sleep in his own room just in the rare chance that Luke shift in his sleep. He hadn’t shifted in his sleep-in years, but the possibility was still there, and yet Matt couldn’t get his feet to move in the opposite direction.

Instead, he inched further into the room and carefully slipped under the covers beside his best friend, he hesitated only a moment before wrapping an arm around Luke’s waist and nuzzling his face into his neck. He didn’t care how it looked or what Luke would say when he woke up, all he knew was that he needed his best friend right now and he needed to know he was safe.

A few more tears leaked out of Matt’s eyes before he fell asleep, thankfully his sleep was dreamless as he succumbed to a feeling of peace, enjoying the presence of his friend unhurt and held securely to his body.

[lizzyverydizzyyo]

D.E.A.N | Chapter 30 - Peak

Masterlist and overall summary of the whole novel is here. | Prompt on trope-appreciation-tuesdays that inspired this is here. | @whumptober-archive

Fandom : Original Work

(I) (II) (III) (IV) (V) (VI) (VII) (VIII) (IX) (X) (XI) (XII) (XIII) (XIV) (XV) (XVI) (XVII) (XVIII) (XIX) (XX) (XXI) (XXII) (XXIII) (XXIV) (XXV) (XXVI) (XXVII) (XXVIII) (XXIX) (XXX) (XXXI - END)

AO3

Wordcount: ± 8086 [Also very action-heavy, so I can’t cut it into two chapters]

TW: Suicide Pact, Suicidal Ideation, Depression, Dread, Minor Character Deaths (antagonist), Blood, Injury, Weapon, Gun, Firearms, Shooting, Drugs, Graphic Depiction of Violence, Gore, Explosion, Medical Instruments and Treatments

He can sense it’s nearly over, although he doesn’t know on whose favor fate will fall into: his side or the enemies’. All who remain are now left to lick their wounds pitifully, wondering if they’ll ever get back to the way it was. Mark tells himself that, at least, ones dear to his heart are still breathing on this God’s green earth.

Whumptober 2023 Themes (last 4 and Alt. Bonus only):

Day Alt. bonus — Aftermath of Failure

Day 28 — “You'll have to go through me.”

Day 29 — Troubled Past Resurfacing

Day 30 — Bridal Carry | “Not much longer...”

Day 31 — Emptiness | Setbacks

Whumptober 2022 Themes (post-event, not completionist):

Day 11 Alt. — Ambushed

Day 24 — Fight, Flight or Freeze | Blood Covered Hands

Day 26 — No One Left Behind | Separated

This story is set in the last half of 2016.

——

Once they’re in the open, they whip their heads left and right, trying to figure out which vehicle Angie and Doctor Lowe are near to. There are two vans: one on the far side of the left, and the other on their right but close. It’s probably not helping that everything is dark.

He didn’t realize how late it is. No wonder many sections of the headquarter looked dark before. What time is it anyway?

Suddenly, they see Angie’s head poking from behind the van on their right. Her arm follows, showing up from the other side of the van to wave to them.

“Angie!” Mark calls out happily, although he still makes sure he keeps quiet.

Anna and Mark sprint to close the distance.

He doesn’t know about Anna, but he feels warmth washing over him with his heart feeling a little lighter. Like giant boulders are lifted off his shoulders. Like hope.

“How did you get here? How did the bomb go?” Anna blurts out quickly.

“Long story. I survived. That’s all that matters.”

“Okay. True,” Anna replies.

Mark gives himself a few seconds to scan Angie and Doctor Lowe quickly, seeing some cuts and bruises here and there, and scratches on their clothes, but they’re alive and well and standing firmly. They’re all okay. Mostly.

Across him, Angie throws a slight look towards Nick in Mark’s arms, one arm lolling on the side and dangling weakly. Nick is quiet and not moving, his head laid against Mark’s chest, but his own chest still rises and falls. Angie stares at the bloody palm of Nick that’s hanging down. She doesn’t point it out.

Which is probably for the best because they can’t afford to panic and spread the anxiety towards each other. They need to be steady and quick now.

“Get in,” Doctor Lowe tersely instructs Mark while Angie walks towards the back of the van to open the doors. It’s not locked.

Mark frowns while looking at the van, pausing a few steps away. He scans their surroundings and sees no one else beside 5 of them.

“What?” the surgeon turns around to him exasperatedly.

“Is this safe?” he asks. “Did any Helga people get to it?”

“It’s fine. I’ve been here all the time we were separated,” Angie says urgently to Mark. “The agents in charge of guarding the backyard just left for the inside not too long ago, so the vehicles were still protected from any sabotaging.”

Mark contemplates for a few seconds, but ends up closing his eyes and sighing as he accepts Angie’s explanation, so he steps forwards to approach the van.

“The keys?” Angie asks him.

Mark faces her fully to give her better access to Nick’s pockets on his utility belt. Nick stays still, eerily silent. He doesn’t react at all to Angie rummaging her hand through his many pockets until she gets to the one with the handful of metal keys.

“Okay, good, lay him down there,” Doctor Lowe instructs him once Angie has the keys in her palm. The surgeon points to the far side of the van’s interior.

Mark bends down his body a little so that he can fit into the back of the van as he steps into it. He climbs into the van’s inside while crouching, still with Nick in his arms, but when both of his feet are firmly on the floor of the van and he is pretty much squatting, he starts shifting his legs one knee at a time to kneel. He shuffles that way a bit until he reaches the divider between the back of the van and the driver section so that he can deposit Nikolai on the floor.

Nick is still unmoving with face leaning against Mark’s chest and one arm lolling around, even until he gently lays Nick down.

“No, no. Sit him up a bit. His legs can’t be higher than the rest of his body,” the surgeon interjects, pulling on Mark’s arm a bit to stop his movement.

Nick finally makes a sound by groaning weakly when Mark tries to pull his body up into sitting position, while Doctor Lowe pulls his legs straight from slightly bent position. It seems to be very important that Nick’s legs are lower than his torso as he is bleeding like this, as said by Angie too before the first surgery.

Once they’re settled inside, Doctor Lowe turns back to pull the doors in and slam them closed. Only then does Mark take off his helmet and put it away. He takes off Nick’s helmet next to see his face and gauge how he is doing.

Nick’s eyes are half-lidded, blinking sluggishly once in a while. He looks extremely pale with cold sweat drenching his body and wetting his hair. Even his skin is cold to touch.

“Kid, just last a little bit more, okay?” Doctor Lowe now says as he crouches to sit next to Nick across from Mark, both facing the weakened boy. The old face uncharacteristically shows strong emotions and non-clinical concern, for once.

Nick’s thin hands are on top of his own abdomen, but they’re not really pushing on his wound strongly, probably because his energy is completely depleted. Mark kneels on one knee in front of him as he puts his own palm on top of Nick’s to push at it firmly.

Nick winces and weakly shifts his head to the side.

“Sorry, I’m sorry. We need to put pressure on your bleeding,” he tells Nick softly.

Nick turns his head forward again to look at him, face seemingly half-conscious. His breathing is labored and dragging, and when Mark takes Nick’s left wrist to feel his pulse, it’s faint but abnormally rapid.

“Why the fuck are we not driving yet?”

He sees Doctor Lowe raising his head to look over Nick’s head towards the divider, his face urgent with a somewhat angry look. He has never been a patient man in all the time Mark has known him, after all.

“Hey,” the doctor calls out again, “what are you waiting for?!”

He bangs on the divider, making Nick wince and moan in pain again. Mark glares slightly at the surgeon, but the man doesn’t seem to care.

“We’re looking for the key!” they both hear Angie’s muffled voice.

“Do it fucking faster!”

Even with the divider, Mark can hear Angie and Anna frantically mumbling with each other, “Where the fuck is the key? Is it this? No, that doesn’t fit, fuck! I don’t know which one? Did they not say which key is for which car! Oh my god…” with metal jiggling.

“Jesus fucking Christ, are you serious, you dumb bitches? Go now!” Doctor Lowe yells out incredulously.

“We’re trying, okay?!” follows with more metal clanking from both women in the front.

“For fuck’s sake, just cut the cord and start with it!” Mark now screams in turn in frustration.

“Are you fucking serious? No! It’ll just destroy the car!” Angie responds from the front.

Nick shifts his head to the side again, weakly gasping with eyes barely open.

“Angie! Anna! Come on!” Mark yells again after looking at that.

He hears more metal jiggling and hissed arguments from the front, and he is about ready to get out and sort the problem out himself, but then he hears the van sputtering then humming to life.

“Gotcha!” he finally hears from Angie.

Mark and Doctor Lowe unconsciously exhale in relief and sag their bodies at the same time. He can even hear Nick exhaling weakly too.

He turns to Nick again with a tight smile, trying to be calming and reassuring.

“This is it. We just have to reach backup team and it’ll be over. You’ll be okay there,” he says softly.

Nick simply looks back at him, seemingly fighting against his exhaustion so that he can keep his eyes open. He winces a bit before blinking weakly, then his eyes stay half-lidded until they all can feel the motion of the car starting to be driven away.

Of course, in ideal situation, it’s better to drive slowly and carefully so that Nick isn’t jolted around while bleeding like this, but there are still dozens of Helga people they’re trying to run from in here, and possibly even more who are still trying to reach this headquarter. They don’t have any other choice but to accept Angie hitting the gas and speeding up along their path until they reach Central Hub’s backup team.

Doctor Lowe and Mark have just taken off their guns and put them on the floor when they simultaneously push at Nick’s shoulders instinctively. He is whipped from side to side at a sharp turn Angie is taking, so they’re making sure Nick isn’t knocked around—especially on the head—and injured more.

“Argh…” Nick immediately yelps in pain at the sudden movement.

“Sorry! Sorry! I’m sorry,” he soothes Nick.

He can see tears flowing from the corners of Nick’s swirly blue-brown eyes as they’re squeezed shut. In turn, Mark squeezes Nick’s shoulder a little to calm him down. Eventually, the van is going at a more even pace with less bouncing as it seemingly settles on an established road.

“You keep pushing on his wound. I’ll try to connect to backup,” Doctor Lowe eventually instructs him.

He simply nods and sits down with crossed legs so that he is in a more comfortable position to hold Nick. His own right shoulder is leaning against the divider as he keeps his left palm’s pressure at Nick’s abdomen. Mark sees Doctor Lowe sit on his heels while clicking on his watch for a while.

The old surgeon tsks.

“The reach is too short with this,” he comments.

“Well, yeah. It’s for a contained network. It’s not meant to be far,” he responds.

“It would be nice if it can. I was hoping its reach is far enough considering we don’t have any of our heavy-duty laptops.”

“There is our satellite map on the dashboard, isn’t there?” he inquires.

“For them,” the surgeon nods his chin to the front to refer to Angie and Anna, “but not us. We can’t see where we are from here. Can’t prepare.”

Oh, that makes sense.

“I guess we should just keep our comms open to connect to backup’s network.”

“I’d rather not do that for too long. We can be intercepted. There are only 5 of us here,” the old man informs him, finally clicking the button on the earpiece itself, seemingly disconnecting from 1034’s headquarter’s network.

Mark too ends up clicking on his earpiece to disconnect it.

There is no point in connecting to 1034’s headquarter anymore since they’re leaving that place and won’t need to communicate with any of them. He knows they’re not going to send more chaperone agents for Nick because there simply are just not enough agents to fight Helga in the headquarter itself.

It’s better to make sure their connection isn’t intruded on by any non-authorized party by turning it off completely.

He almost falls asleep due to his extreme exhaustion and lulling silence for a while when Doctor Lowe suddenly talks to him.

“Shift him a little,” Doctor Lowe instructs Mark.

He furrows his eyebrows.

“I need to see behind us,” the doctor explains, pointing at the screen on the divider that’s supposed to show the back of the van through the small camera on the door.

“Oh.”

Mark gently slips his right arm between Nick’s back and the divider to circle Nick’s body from behind, pulling him closer almost to an embrace until Nick’s head is lying on Mark’s right shoulder instead of covering the screen.

He doesn’t realize the intimacy of the gesture until Doctor Lowe stares at him for a few seconds.

He is about to push Nick away a little bit to minimize the too-personal sense of their position, but when he sees Nick’s closed eyes on the pale exhausted face, he just doesn’t have the heart to do it. Who’s going to have a problem with it anyway?

Doctor Lowe ends up shaking his head and rising to kneel so that he can get closer to the screen and turns it on.

It crackles a bit before he sees the screen coming to life. Not that it’s going to help in telling them where they are, especially since it’s dark outside, except just to see if their environment is safe.

For quite a while, all they do is just glance at the screen every so often while mostly ignoring it in favor of laying back and closing their eyes to get a little bit of rest. They’re not really expecting anything noteworthy to happen, but he hears a bang on the divider from the front.

He and Doctor Lowe furrow their eyebrows and look at each other.

“Look at your watch! What colors are they?” he hears Anna inquire.

“What? What color? What are you talking about?” he shouts back with a perplexed expression.

“There are incomings shown in our satellite map. Are they our guys?”

He immediately straightens up his back with an alert look, just as Doctor Lowe does. They whip their heads to look at the screen.

It’s not obvious in the beginning, but he can see some dots following them from behind that are getting closer and closer and eventually appearing like several vehicles that are not D.E.A.N issued.

Oh, fuck.

He looks at his watch over Nick’s head and shoulder who is still leaning against his chest, clicking a button on the side to turn it on again.

They’re all brown pulsating dots following from behind.

“Oh, shit,” Doctor Lowe whispers horrifically.

“Nick, Nicky, get off, I need to move,” he says to Nikolai, trying to be gentle even if he is about to lose his shit.

Nick flutters his eyes open and winces, seemingly having fallen asleep before.

He hates being rough with Nick, but he has to quickly shift Nick’s body away from him so that he can move to grab his rifle again.

Doctor Lowe is kneeling while slamming the seat covers up, seeing what’s inside their under-seat storage. He frantically grabs all manners of firearm cartridges, from long rifle ammo clips to boxes of handgun bullets from the inside. Mark can see that besides those, there are explosives too like grenades and some smoke bombs.

There are also different kinds of rifles there, seemingly more of a sniper rifle type, along with some rifle tripod mounts.

Sniper rifle be damned. He’ll use them when he has to. Bullet is a bullet once it’s in someone’s skull.

“Wha…” Nick mumbles with half-lidded eyes.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says distractedly as he starts reloading several magazines worth of bullets for his pistols, then inserting a long ammo clip into the chamber of his rifle along with Doctor Lowe.

Not long after, they immediately hear shots hitting the back of their van.

Shit. He thought they’re out of the woods already.

Doctor Lowe frantically rummages through the storages again, muttering furiously to himself.

“Doc, you got bullets. What are you looking for?” Mark asks in frustration.

“I need sticky tapes for the rifle mounts.”

“What?!”

Doctor Lowe sits on his heels again while turning towards him.

“I’m not Addrianne or Mary who can probably shoot the fucking moon without rifle mount, all right? I need a steady mount.”

“Just shoot with your machine guns!”

“You do it! I’ll find some tape.”

Mark tsks incredulously, but he does grab his helmet to put it back on before pushing open the hatch on top of their van. He takes a slight look at the screen to get a feel of what kind of enemies they’re dealing with before popping his head up with his machine gun pointed to the back.

There are 5 jeeps following them.

“How the fuck did they know about us?!”

Mark ignores Doctor Lowe’s question to start pressing his rifle trigger, followed by resounding shots and strong recoils that hit him much harder than usual with his current shooting position. He mostly hits the windows and non-vital parts of the enemies he can see.

When he pauses a bit, he observes them and finds that they all look fresh and battle ready, maybe even more combat-trained than the ones swarming 1034 before. There are women there too, ones who look as military-trained as the rest.

He absently thinks about Doctor Lowe’s question.

He doesn’t like the thought that maybe there was a planned breach of information about their strategy. These enemies look especially prepared for this kind of battle, while the ones in 1034 look more like low level thugs of the syndicate who just happen to be given firearms.

He bows down his head under the hatch when the other side returns the shots, waiting until they stop so that he can shoot again. On his left a little bit behind him, he hears shotgun shots and cocking from Anna who is poking her head out of the window to shoot with him.

He feels their van swerving to the left sharply, feeling himself knocked to the side and hit hard on the chest by the metal opening of the hatch.

“Fucking hell, Angie!”

“I’m avoiding their shots!”

He breathes hard as he steadies himself, pointing his machine gun again to shoot mostly at the driver of the jeep closest to them.

They seem to know his plan, so that jeep also swerves to the side to avoid his shots.

“Move!” Doctor Lowe yells at him from under.

Mark looks down to the inside of the van and sees Doctor Lowe holding a short rifle tripod mount, presumably with sticky tape on the bottom of the feet.

He pulls himself down to allow Doctor Lowe to stick the mount to the top of their van, using the opportunity to pull another long ammo clip to be slung over his shoulder as preparation before the current one runs out.

“I don’t think that’s how you’re supposed to install that!” he half-shouts.

“Shut the fuck up. I told you I’m not a sniper. I’m just doing what I can,” Doctor Lowe shouts with voice half-muffled by the windy surrounding. “Now give me that rifle!”

Mark looks down on the ground to see the different kind of rifle usually used for precision shooting. He simply grabs that and follows the surgeon’s instruction.

Unlike their automatic machine guns which can shoot endlessly as long as they keep pressing the trigger and have ammo clips attached, the rifle Doctor Lowe is using right now is semi-automatic. It requires him to pull the trigger each time he wants to take a shot, although he doesn’t have to keep reloading each time.

Mark kneels on one knee with his own rifle strap slung over his shoulder again, both of his arms holding the gun itself, while he faces Nick.

The younger man’s face is alert and scared, no longer has any trace of sleepiness as before. Mark’s heart clenches at the deep fear shown on that bony and pale face, undoubtedly in pain too at the sudden movements Angie keeps making.

Nick is holding the sides of the opened seats for dear life.

“What’s going on, Mark?” he asks shakily as he starts crying again.

“It’s fine. We’ll deal with it,” he softly says, once again saying it both for Nick and himself.

Eventually, Doctor Lowe removes his rifle from the mount and pops back down to gather more ammos and fill the chamber with them once again. Mark uses this opportunity to pop back out, and he starts shooting again.

He aims lower this time, trying to point at the wheels.

Their van swerves to the side once again, so he groans as the corners of the opened hatch hit him on the chest again.

“Argh!”

“Sorry!” Angie simply shouts.

He starts shooting again once he is sure Angie is done with her swerving. He hits one person, and he can see the man’s body flopping to the side and bowing forward. The driver next to him doesn’t flinch or look away from the road despite having her comrade shot to death next to her.

Mark starts pointing his gun at another jeep now, going for the passenger shooter again. He only manages to shoot the person’s shoulder, but that’s good enough. She’s not going to be able to shoot properly like that.

He pulls back, going down into the van again to take a break from the harsh recoils and avoid the shots from the other side, so Doctor Lowe rises again with his semi-automatic rifle after reloading it.

Doctor Lowe focuses on the scope, taking a shot more carefully and slowly. Mark can only guess what’s happening. The only way the people in the back of the van can see what’s behind is by looking at the screen, but that has a limited view.

He hears another shot from Doctor Lowe, followed by loud crashing, but before he can catch what’s happening, there is another bang to the back of the van, so now the screen crackles then goes black.

Oh, great. Fantastic. As if they weren’t already stuck and cornered before.

Even so, Doctor Lowe lowers himself again, gathering ammos to be inserted into the rifle chamber again.

“Your turn,” he tightly says as he keeps focusing on inserting some ammo clips.

“What happened?” he asks.

“Got one of their drivers.”

He furrows his eyebrows as he thinks about what Doctor Lowe means until he raises his eyebrows in surprise.

The driver shot by Doctor Lowe either got injured enough that they can’t steer the vehicle well anymore, or killed so the jeep swerved around uncontrollably until it hit another one.

Basically, taking two enemies’ vehicles at once.

Not like Addrianne, my ass, Mark thinks.

“Your turn, Hayden!” Doctor Lowe yells at him.

He immediately jumps up over the hatch to point his gun again.

As he guessed before, there are now only three jeeps still following them, while the other two are falling behind so far in the back. Still, that doesn’t mean they can’t change drivers and start chasing his team again. He doesn’t know if their jeeps’ engines are damaged enough to stop them completely.

He squints his eyes at the recoil of his rifles, still not used to how harsh and painful it is while being shot this way, but he keeps going. He quickly pulls the end of the other long ammo clip to start inserting it into his machine gun’s chamber. He cocks it after it’s inserted and starts shooting again.

He got two, but only some back passenger shooters, not any driver like what he aimed for.

“Here,” Mark hears Doctor Lowe call to him.

He pops in a little only to see the surgeon handing him a smoke bomb. He would prefer the grenade, but they’re still too close to throw it safely, so he accepts the smoke bomb anyway.

He pulls away the pin with his teeth and throws it far into one of the jeeps’ open roof. There is clanking and harsh hissing before smoke quickly seeps out of the can and fills the jeep. The jeep swerves wildly to the side after that and gets left behind.

Two more to go.

He starts shooting again for a while until his ammo runs out.

He only manages to simply graze the remaining chasers instead of causing substantial damage to his enemies. Behind the two jeeps, he starts to see the jeep left behind after the smoke bomb, and it’s gaining on them. He also sees another one, which is one of the two crashing jeeps that Doctor Lowe shot before.

Oh, fuck. It’s going up to four again, then.

Doctor Lowe and Mark keep taking turn shooting either with machine guns or sniping rifles, or even a shotgun they find after rummaging through the under-seat storage more carefully. Once the ammos for those run out, they take out their pistols, which are not ideal because they’re not as strong as machine guns or as precise as sniping rifles, but better than not fighting back at all.

He can feel his worry and panic starting to rise again each time he pops back down and sees more and more empty bullet boxes and used clips.

“Hey kid, you need to hold on really tight on this seat, okay?” Doctor Lowe cryptically tells Nick as he points at the jutting metal under the opened seat.

He doesn’t understand why Doctor Lowe is saying that considering Nick is already holding onto the seat so tightly.

Nick is no longer pushing down on his abdomen and seemingly hasn't been for a while, which means he’s been bleeding more than they would have liked compared to if he’d been pushing at his wound. He’s getting even paler, grimacing more often after every swerving and jolting from the speed of Angie’s driving.

He faces where Doctor Lowe is pointing.

“Wha… about—”

“It’s okay. Mark is gonna help you with your bleeding,” the surgeon cuts him off, instantly knowing what Nick means.

Doctor Lowe cocks his head to the side to point at Nick. Mark gives a questioning stare for a bit, but obeys the surgeon’s command.

“You hold on tight too,” the old man says cryptically again, but doesn’t wait for Mark to comply before popping out of the hatch.

Mark simply kneels down facing Nick with one hand pushing at the wounded abdomen and another gripping a handgrip tightly as the doctor tells him to.

He’s not sure what the surgeon is planning until he hears loud boom and a sense of this van almost being flipped over, roughly knocking him over to the floor. Thankfully, he pulls his left arm from Nick’s stomach quickly enough to throw it above his head so that it’s cushioned against the metal body of the under-seat storages.

Still, the force of it brings sharp pain to his forearm that can’t help screaming in pain. He feels like he has broken the bone in his forearm, or at least given it some deep musculature damage.

Nick thankfully gets thrown into his arm too, so his head isn’t knocked around too at the harsh bump the van was put through.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Doc?” he cries out angrily.

The doctor simply pops back down to bend down and grabs an item.

“We have no bullets,” he tightly says without a care towards Mark’s offense.

“And you didn’t think to warn us before throwing a fucking grenade?”

“I did.”

The surgeon knocks at the divider twice before popping his head back out while gripping another grenade.

This time, Mark is more ready.

He elongates his legs to tightly push against the under-seat storages on both sides. He pushes feet against the left under-seat while his lower back is pushed against the right one. Being tall has its perks, it seems.

One of his hands is holding onto a handgrip attached to the divider while his other hand is putting Nick almost in an embrace again. Nick too is holding on to a handgrip on the other side of the divider, while his other hand is pushing at his stomach.

He hears another kaboom and feels the van jolts around roughly, but without throwing his body around since he has good enough grip on his surroundings. It happens three more times, each time adding more and more aches onto his body due to the rough jolting, on top of his muscles being forcibly and endlessly taut.

Nick too keeps keening in pain, fisting Mark’s shirt desperately while leaning over and sobbing.

After the third explosion, Doctor Lowe bends down to frantically crawl all over the floor, repeatedly slamming the seat covering of the storage loudly. He keeps mumbling to himself like he is possessed, until he eventually reaches the one closest to Mark and Nick near the divider.

“Move over,” the surgeon tightly orders him.

Mark has to bodily carry Nick in his arms to move him away so that Doctor Lowe can turn that storage upside down too.

They wince when they feel harsh shots at the back of their van, now being dented by the repeated firings of strong firearms.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Nick’s half-lidded eyes land on the surgeon’s back.

“Wha… what’s—what’s going… on?” Nick stutters weakly.

Doctor Lowe’s shoulders slump again, giving Mark another jolt of fear. It’s never good when the surgeon slumps like that. The beer-bellied man then weakly sits on his heels with his head leaned back while exhaling shudderingly.

They hear more shots, and the dents get deeper.

The doctor still doesn’t face Nick or Mark, and instead bangs on the divider.

“Anna! Why aren’t you shooting?!”

Mark can feel his heart thumping on his chest painfully, faster and faster the longer it takes for Anna to reply.

“There is no more bullet,” they all hear Anna shout with her own resigned voice.

“Try to find more! Under Angie’s seat or something!” Doctor Lowe tries again.

“We tried, Doc. We can’t find more!”

Just as she is done talking, they hear more bullets shot in their way with clanging sound. Mark realizes that one manages to lodge itself into the door of the van.

He feels cold washing over him.

Nick shudders in his arms, and Doctor Low stares helplessly at that bullet.

Everything feels like slow-motion, or being submerged into a pool with a sense of detachment the more bullets shot in their way. There are now several bullets being lodged into the van’s backdoor. One of them is even pushed out into the inside of the van by another bullet shot to that hole.

“No…” Nick whispers horrifyingly with tears starting to flow from his eyes again, “…no, I don’t—I don’t wanna… go back…”

He whimpers again.

Mark hopelessly stares at the closed doors with many bullets lodged into them, as does the old surgeon in front of him. He feels a sense of cold dread in his chest. In his arms, Nick turns away from the door and pushes his face into Mark's shoulder instead.

“No… I don’t want them to take me again… please, I don’t want to…”

Mark squeezes his eyes closed at Nick's muffled and desperate mumbling and tightens his arms around the fragile body, accompanied by more shots towards their van.

“It’s okay, everything’s gonna be okay. You’re not going back. You’ll be okay,” he whispers gently to Nick as the boy keeps crying in his hold.

He moves his hands to rub Nick’s back up and down, tucking Nick’s head into the space between his neck and shoulder, cradling Nick like a child.

“It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay, don’t worry, yeah?”

He knows it’s a lie, of course.

There are four jeeps worth of highly trained Helga members on their tail. Maybe more, considering their screen is broken and they can’t see outside if there are more jeeps coming. They’re cornered. They have no weapon—no bullets, no protection, no means of fighting back.

God knows how long they still need to go to get to Central’s backup.

They…

They lost.

But he keeps rubbing Nick’s back up and down, continuously telling Nick that everything’s going to be fine.

Eventually, Nick whimpers, “Just… just kill me… please… I don’t want them to take me back…”

“No, don’t say that, come on,” he whispers gently to Nick’s ear, hating that Nick is trying to shatter his self-made illusion.

Across from him, Doctor Lowe stares with just as much emptiness on his face. The man even looks scared with glistening eyes.

Nick pulls back to face him fully.

“Just kill me…”

“Nicky, don’t—”

“I know we’re stuck, Mark.”

He stares back at Nick’s sure face, even if it’s wet with tears and pale.

“Don’t let me go back to them, please…”

Mark breathes out shakily, wincing once in a while when he feels more shot at their van.

“Just kill me…”

Nick chokes on a sob after that, face terrified but resigned at the same time.

Behind Nick, he sees Doctor Lowe digging into his pants then pulls out four glass vials.

Mark stares at them, catching a glimpse of ‘morphine’ and ‘100ml’ on the labels.

“No,” he firmly says to Doctor Lowe.

“You know we’re done, kid,” he tells Mark gently.

“No, we’re not. We’ll be fine.”

Doctor Lowe gives him a heartbroken and pitying look, but…

They’ll be fine. They have to be fine. He doesn’t have to kill Nick to prevent him from being taken back. They don’t have to kill themselves so that Helga can’t torture them back. They’ll be okay.

They’ll be fine. They’ll be fine.

Even if there are more bullets lodged on their door, they’ll be fine.

They’ll be fine, they’ll be fine, they’ll be—

“I’m too old for this shit, son,” Doctor Lowe says with palpably heavy sense of exhaustion as he takes one bottle from his palm and keeps it in his own vest pocket.

Four bottles and one taken by Doctor Lowe already.

He gulps painfully.

Nick… Nick has to have one. He deserves that, at least.

It’s either Mark, Angie, or Anna whose fate in Helga’s hands will be uncertain.

Mark bites his lip, feeling terrified too with cold realization seeping into him. He feels his eyes getting wet, suddenly thinking about his mom and how he never got to say a proper goodbye to her, or Jackson. Or the others in his team.

How Nick will never get to taste freedom, except by taking one of those bottles.

It’s so unfair. Why is it all so unfair?

He hugs Nick tighter with his own closed eyes and tears flowing down his cheek.

“It’s okay,” he continues softly again to Nick’s ear, “you’ll be okay. They’ll never take you again. I promise. You’ll be okay.”

He keeps doing that, delaying the inevitable, trying to find it in his heart to help Doctor Lowe injects the content of that bottle to Nick’s vein when push comes to shove. And it will come to shove.

There are more shots to the van, and he feels deep plunging in his chest again.

Maybe he has never been cut out for this. For being a D.E.A.N agent. He doesn’t think a true D.E.A.N agent should be this shaky and terrified at the face of danger they supposedly signed up for.

“Wait.”

He opens his eyes and stare back at the surgeon.

The old man’s face is confused with furrowed eyebrows.

“Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Mark asks back.

“There are shots fired,” the surgeon replies with widened eyes.

Mark glares, feeling angry at the fact that he’s emotionally being yanked around. The surgeon is the one forcing Mark to come to terms with what they’re going to face, but he is now the one being obtuse and playing around.

“I can fucking see that, Doc,” he harshly replies.

“No, look,” the surgeon says, curiously with a smile blooming on his face, “there are shots outside.”

Mark glares even more at the surgeon’s demented game.

“I’m aware. I have ears and eyes.”

“No, listen,” the old man emphasizes.

He stays glaring with Nick crying in his arms while refusing to look at the door with bullets lodged all over it. He doesn’t understand the point of Doctor Lowe saying all of these stupid shits.

But then he furrows his own eyebrows. There is something strange about the gunshot sounds.

Obviously, he can sense some bullets being shot in their way, be it through sound or the vibrations once they hit their van, but he still turns his head towards the doors along with the surgeon.

“These are not shot towards us,” he concludes.

On top of that, he finally hears some really loud whooshing above them, enough to penetrate the metal body of the van and into their hearing.

Mark quickly clicks on his earpiece comm, almost missing it in his haste. Immediately, there is a crackling sound of it connecting to a network.

Mark clicks on his round button.

“This is CC75 reporting in. Are you 1056? Over.”

“Oh, god,” he immediately whispers out.

“I repeat. This is CC75 reporting in. Are you 1056? Over.”

Mark shakily clicks on his square button while looking at his watch, seeing light blue dots all around them.

“We copy. Confirming this is 1056. Over,” he shakily replies.

“What’s your code? And is the informant with you? Over.”

“This is MT56. And yes, the informant is with us. Over.”

At that, Doctor Lowe jumps up and slams open the hatch again.

Mark immediately looks up, now realizing that the whooshing sound are from several helicopter blades.

“YOU’RE LATE YOU FUCKING BASTARDS!” Doctor Lowe screams with his hand thrown upwards while cackling like a maniac. “WHOO HOOO!”

Mark chokes out a half-laugh half-cry at the surgeon’s excited yell.

They still hear more shots, but it’s clear that it’s more between backup’s heli and the Helga members chasing them, rather than between those members and their van. He can even hear slight booming while their van is jolted around a little. He can only guess that it might be from backup’s grenade launchers.

Doctor Lowe pops back in and basically lets himself drop to his ass while leaning back on his arms, still laughing once in a while. He has tears too on his face despite the weirdly soothing chuckles.

Mark closes his eyes and lets more of his own tears drop to his cheeks, but out of relief. He hugs Nick even tighter while burying his face into the black hair.

“I told you we’ll be fine, right?” he whispers to Nick’s ear, now being honest.

Nick wraps his own arms around Mark too and pushes his face deeper into Mark’s neck, sobbing too out of relief.

Mark hears more crackling, so he clicks his square button again. He hears a different person talking this time, with a voice he is more acquainted to even before going into D.E.A.N.

“Agent Hayden, I have informed Agent Kingston and Agent Basset that you should drive forward for 20 more miles with two of our helis and three other backup’s vehicles, totalling 40 protection agents until you reach our rescue station. There are Medic agents ready to treat the informant’s puncture wound on his abdomen and other injuries all of you might have sustained. Do you copy? Over?”

“Yes, we copy, Agent Callahan. We’ll meet rescue teams in 20 miles. Over.”

“Good. Unfortunately, we can’t send all of our backup with you because we’ll need to assist 1034, but I think 40 agents are plenty enough to protect 5 of you. Do you copy? Over.”

“Yes, we copy. Of course, Sir. We’ll manage with that. Over.”

He is about to click circle to turn off his comm, but he hears another crackling signifying another request to connect to him.

“Good to hear you, son. Would love to hear Jackson too, but I bet he’d be proud of you anyway.”

Mark chuckles.

“Thank you, Sir. I’m trying my best.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are.”

He waits for a bit, but eventually the familiar senior agent says, “CN94 over and out.”

The van continues to go for a while, with the shooting sounds eventually ceasing to the point that the bumping motions have become calming and lulling them all into a state of half-asleep. Mark makes sure to continue staying awake for the most part so that he can help Nick put pressure on his wounded stomach.

He doesn’t have the energy to think about what it means that Nick is leaning slightly to the side so that he can keep lying on Mark’s chest. Nick’s black-haired head is tucked so deeply under Mark’s chin that he can feel his lips slightly touching the dark sweaty strands. Mark’s arm is also still circling around Nick’s back and putting pressure on the wound that way.

He doesn’t even realize it when the van starts to slow down until it comes to a stop.

Suddenly, the doors to the back of the van are slammed open with lights flooding the space. He has to squint and put a palm over his eyebrows to adjust to it.

He sees several people wearing D.E.A.N’s standard uniforms with bulletproof vests on top who are pushing a gurney towards them, rolling it until it touches the back bumper of the van. Some step into the van itself to help Mark and Doctor Lowe shift Nick around until they can deposit Nick onto the mattress.

The bed is adjusted into a position where it bends upwards in the middle so that Nick isn’t completely lying down. An oxygen mask is quickly fitted onto his face with his head raised a bit so that the elastic band can be pulled behind his head. They put his head back to the bed again after that.

He doesn’t really notice Doctor Lowe walking away to be treated himself.

They immediately start wheeling Nick away, but before they can move far, Mark already steps forward quickly to approach the gurney without thinking. Nick too suddenly lifts his head with a desperate whimpering while reaching out to Mark. When Mark is close enough, Nick quickly holds his hand and grips it tight.

“Sir, we need to insert IV in him for the transfusion and other medications.”

“Let me go with him,” he insists, ignoring the other Medic agents who are trying to get him to sit down and be treated too.

He can’t be bothered to think about himself until he can see Nick safe.

“We’ll need to get him to a medic facility and into a Central Hub HQ. He is a critical informant.”

“He is a 21-year-old human trafficking survivor with PTSD. He is not just an informant,” he replies firmly with a little bit of offense and anger on Nick’s behalf at how they just reduce him to another mission object.

“Yes, sir, we’re aware,” the agent firmly responds to him without reacting to his impassioned words, “but he is still our critical informant, and we need to transport him to a safe confidential location as soon as possible.”

“Let me be with him until then,” he insists.

The Medic agents stare at him then at Nick who is still gripping Mark’s hand, no inhibition in his exhaustion and severe blood-loss. One of them sighs.

“Just until he is ready for transport to a medic facility.”

“Thank you,” he responds with deep relief and gratitude.

“And you’ll need to be treated too in one of the tents.”

“Yeah. With him.”

They give him an unreadable look, but he is too exhausted to think about what that means. They end up simply wheeling Nick into one of the medical tents with Mark on the side still continuously holding Nick’s hand.

Mark can see other agents being wheeled into some tents too, some arriving with helicopters. He assumes those are agents from 1034 and their backup after they decided Nick had plenty of backup agents protecting him already. Some of those arriving agents are able to stand and walk by themselves, but some have to be helped to move around. Some don’t move at all.

He doesn’t know what’s their exact status, and he is too afraid to think more about it, so he focuses on Nick again.

The Medic agents start pulling at Nick’s clothes to unzip his bulletproof vest and outright cuts up his shirt to get to his wound. Nick whimpers a bit at the sudden touches from strangers around him, so Mark squeezes his hand and whispers, “It’s okay, they’re not hurting you, they’re taking care of you, don’t worry”. Nick seems to calm down at that, and the Medic agents give him another unreadable stare that he is starting to get irritated with.

Is it so strange that he wants to calm Nick down and make sure that he is okay?

Nick reaches out shakily to move his hand out of Mark's grip and closer to the lower side of his bulletproof vest. He furrows his eyebrows seeing Nick's movement until the pale frail hand eventually hovers while the boy mumbles half-consciously, "Hmm... you... your bleeding..."

Mark feels warmth in his chest, relieved that Nick is safe enough to be able to feel concerned for someone else. And touched that in his muddled sense, Nick still cares about his condition.

"It's fine. Just lightly grazed. I'll be okay," he says as he bends closer to Nick's ear and squeezes Nick's palm lightly.

One of the Medic agents frowns with a disapproving look, seeing as the blood is copious enough to warrant a guess that it's slightly more than a superficial wound. Whether it's because he is minimizing his injury or because he keeps refusing to be treated until Nick is done, he doesn't know.

Nick shifts his head again to stare more directly at his right waist.

"Hurts? Doesn't... hurt?"

"I'll be fine," he chuckles, "don't worry about me."

"Hmm..."

Nick continues looking like he hardly has wits about him, unfocused despite trying his hardest to cling to consciousness.

The Medic agents keep treating Nick regardless, cleaning up his wound and entire front torso with disinfectant. He is guessing it also contains anaesthetic so that Nick isn’t too in pain when they cauterize his wound with the cauterizer. One of them lifts Nick’s palm that’s not gripping Mark’s palm and starts palpitating the skin to find a vein until she settles at one spot. Another Medic agent brings her a plastic pan with IV attachment instruments and materials in it.

After that, it’s pretty straight forward until the saline and blood bags are attached to Nick.

There are agents firmly walking out of a newly arriving helicopter, and the Medic agents who are caring for Nick turn to look at those agents slightly before looking back at Mark.

“He is going to be transported now.”

A firm dismissal.

But Mark doesn’t really care. He still walks to follow Nick’s gurney even when Nick has let go of his hand, maybe because the mask also disperses sedative so that he doesn’t feel afraid anymore being bounced around between strangers without Mark.

Eventually, they lift the bed to raise it and insert it to the heli with Nick being shifted around a bit. Mark sees that those swirly blue-brown eyes are closed, and his breathing is steady. Nick might have fallen asleep or unconscious, but he seems okay overall.

The helicopter’s blades are spinning again, creating strong gush of wind around. Mark has to put an arm over his face to soften the blow, then it takes off.

Mark would have liked to follow Nick all the way to the medic facility, and maybe beyond, but he does understand the need for the separation and confidentiality, so when some Medic agents clear their throats, Mark turns to them to dutifully follow them into a tent and sits on one of the beds as instructed.

Mark closes his eyes and leans his head back while they fuss over him. He takes a deep breath, finally letting himself feel the entirety of his shaky body, along with his exhaustion and the pain of the last many hours—and maybe even days or weeks—washing over him, but also deep relief.

When he opens his eyes again, he fittingly sees the dawn breaking with the sun starting to peek out of the sandy landscape.

A new day. A symbol of everything horrific happening before, now over.

Not everything is well and good, of course, considering there is still the question of Nick’s condition—which he doesn’t know whether he is allowed to be told or not after this.

There is also deep grief when he sees agents being wheeled on gurneys into several medical vans and helicopters, some of them fully covered by white sheets as their bodies and the fabrics are smeared with deep red, while the others are in varying degrees of being injured.

Even after this, there will most certainly be many more missions to deal with the rest of Helga. Undoubtedly going to be much more difficult than this.

But the yesterday of chaos is over. It’s really over.

It’s all okay now.

He can finally breathe easy, until the next mission.

***

(I) (II) (III) (IV) (V) (VI) (VII) (VIII) (IX) (X) (XI) (XII) (XIII) (XIV) (XV) (XVI) (XVII) (XVIII) (XIX) (XX) (XXI) (XXII) (XXIII) (XXIV) (XXV) (XXVI) (XXVII) (XXVIII) (XXIX) (XXX) (XXXI - END)

[oceanparkmall]

Mall Ghosts | Chapter 1

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~ 2.2k words

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The year was 2002.

I had just turned eighteen. My parents bought the newest iPod for my birthday instead of the cell phone that I had specifically asked for. So I dyed my afro electric teal in protest, but they didn’t care. My kid brother joked that my hair finally matched my name – Aqua.

None of my friends really got to see my so-called rebellious transformation because I lived two cities over and I didn’t have a car to drive yet. 

I begged my mom to let me apply for a modeling gig at the shopping complex where half the senior class hung out, but she said that there was nothing wrong with the mall just off the highway near our house. Her argument was that it was closer to where we lived, on the way to her job, and just as good as the mall across town.

She was right up until the last point. 

Ocean Park Mall was the site where someone managed to rob an entire store. Whoever it was never got caught. Somehow they pulled it off without tripping any alarms. An entire department just completely cleared out. How does that even happen? 

The scandal was big enough to hit the local news. It was a miracle that the mall didn’t get shut down. Still, a whole bunch of businesses packed up and left. Only a handful were left standing. 

Nowadays, it seemed like the only things Ocean Park was good for was escaping the summer heat or grabbing a bite to eat in the 2.5 out of 5 stars food court. Every now and then Ocean Park would hold special events. Things like pop idol meet and greets, book signings, niche culture conventions, and that runway show that my mom signed me up for.

“Aqua Simone Moore,” Mom huffed as she drove me to Ocean Park for my first fitting, “wipe that gloom-and-doom look off your face. You always look so unsatisfied and I cannot for the life of me figure out what is wrong with you.”

I didn’t answer. All I did was slump some more in my seat, which I knew she hated.

Mom narrowed her eyes at me – as if that would do anything – and finally sighed. 

“Aqua, you know your father and I try to give you and your brothers everything that we can.”

But nothing that I ask for, I thought to myself. Just because she and Dad substituted one thing for something else didn’t mean I had to like it. 

Not in a million years would I ever say this to her because that would get me in a world of trouble. Mom would go home and tell Dad and before I knew it, I would be listening to a thousand lectures about how I’m not grateful enough and how they don’t know how I got this way.

Nevermind that I made perfect grades, stayed out of trouble, and almost never asked to go anywhere cool – but who cares when I’m not grateful and looking content whenever they choose to give me alternatives to the things that actually mean a lot to me.

I could have explained to my mom for the umpteenth time why it was important for me to have a cell phone to start keeping up with my friends over the summer before we all went away to college the next year. Or that the reason that I needed to land gigs at Arrow Crest Mall was for similar reasons.

I wanted to be near my friends. I wanted to spend time with them before this part of our lives was all over and we were flung across the country to different campuses. It wasn’t too much to ask for, right?

Apparently it was. 

“Thanks, Mom,” I said when she dropped me off. I tried to put on my best I-promise-that-I’m-one-hundred-percent-grateful smile right before she drove off. 

From the outside, Ocean Park Mall looked like your average shopping complex. Not the kind of place where businesses came to get robbed. But the moment you walked inside, it became clear that Ocean Park was well on its way to becoming a dead mall.

I looked around and sighed.

The first thing I noticed was the outdated paint job from the eighties. My eyes scanned the giant palms that were thoughtfully arranged to give the space a comfortably populated feeling. I followed their trunks up to the vast atrium ceiling. I suspected that the pyramid design usually let in a lot of natural light, but today it was raining. It made the already lonely space feel more like an indoor graveyard.

I wandered over to one of the central fountains and took a seat on the ledge. The sound of rushing water did little to soothe my nerves.

If I had a cell phone right now, I could see if anyone was willing to meet up.

I grumbled the thought aloud, but the truth was, I wasn’t so sure if any of my friends would come all the way out here just to hang with me.

Judging from the conversations I had on my home landline last night, all of my friends had some excuse as to why they couldn’t make it this week.

Work.

Babysitting.

No gas money.

They all seemed pretty legit, but I probably could have gotten one of them to say yes if I pushed hard enough. 

But who wants to work that hard to convince their friends to want to go out their way? I felt like I was good enough to be worth the inconvenience. At least, I did before going into each of those conversations.

I wrapped my arms around my bare shoulders and did my best to not look as pitiful as I felt. After glancing around to make sure that no one was looking, I bowed my head and let my anxiety consume me.

There was a strong chance that I knew some of the kids that hung out at Ocean Park. Some of them probably even worked here. I used to attend the middle school in this area before my parents enrolled me in the charter school on the other side of town. 

I hadn’t kept in touch with anyone since I left. I wasn’t the only one from that feeder school who didn’t opt to go to the nearest high school. From what I gathered, transfer kids like me were considered stuck up. As if I had a choice in where my parents decided to send me to school. 

I prayed that no one recognized me. Maybe I would be lucky and no one from my old school would cross my path. 

But that was very hopeful thinking.

“Aqua?”

My head lifted automatically without even realizing that my worst fear had already come to pass. I hadn’t even been here for five minutes before someone recognized me. 

“Uh, yeah?” I said without thinking twice. The last thing I needed was someone thinking there was something wrong with me.

“Whoa, it really is you. Your hair was black in the headshots you sent, so I wasn’t sure.”

I stood up, realizing that I was talking to one of the designers. When it came to these small business boutiques, it was very important to get to know your designer as best as one could. This person had sort of shaggy, dirty blond hair with a natural redness to her cheeks and lips. When she smiled, I was hit with a wave of breath mints.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you wait,” I said, jutting out my hand to shake the designer’s. She was about four inches shorter than me. I wasn’t that tall for a model – only five feet, seven inches. 

“Nice to meet you…” I said, shaking her hand sincerely but not knowing how to address her.

“It’s Elliot!” She said brightly. Then craned her neck a bit and added, “Wow. You have really great bone structure. Your pictures are awesome, but they don’t do you justice.”

I gave her a genuine thank you and couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“Everyone says that when they meet me.”

Elliot let go of my hand. “Well, it’s true! I’m excited to work with you. And don’t worry about being late. I’m totally early. You can come with me now if you don’t mind helping me open up?”

Most of the mall stores weren’t open yet and I wasn’t about to hang out in an empty food court, so I agreed to tag along. Plus, I already felt comfortable around Elliot. I was curious to learn more about her point of view as a designer. 

As it turned out, she hadn’t had her store up for very long. She said that she was just starting out in the business and renting out a space in Ocean Park was the best decision financially.

“I mean, I know this place is supposed to be haunted or whatever. But I just don’t have that many options, you know what I mean?”

I was doing just fine listening to her until she said the word haunted.

Elliot must have seen the look on my face because she snorted and said, “C’mon, Aqua. Don’t tell me you haven’t heard the rumors? What with that store getting robbed and no one having a single clue who did it or how they even pulled it off? Everyone’s saying it was probably a ghost.”

Based on her tone, I’m guessing that no one actually believed this rumor. Not even her.

I did my best to laugh along with Elliot as I helped her unlock the padlock to the store and pull back the gates. While Elliot was lifting the metal curtain, I noticed someone coming around the corner.

This person wasn’t wearing shoes.

Or a shirt for that matter. Just a pair of dark denims.

I blinked, trying not to stare. But that was impossible.

A guy with dark shoulder-length hair walked past us. He was close enough to me that his shoulder swept some of my teal curls to the side. He seemed pretty damn confident for someone walking around shirtless inside a shopping mall, but there was a shadow hanging about him as well. As if he barely registered that he was walking so close to us.

“Morning, Sean,” Elliot said in a voice that suggested this wasn’t the first time this had happened. 

The six-foot dark cloud of a boy had already passed by us, but he stopped sort of abruptly and looked over his shoulder.

His eyes scanned us once, lingering on me just a hair longer. As if he was trying to figure out who the hell I was.

“Uh, yeah. Good morning.” His brows came together in the faintest degree of frustration. “Um…”

“Elliot!” The shop owner chimed, clearly finding Sean’s spaced-out reaction quite endearing. Then she clapped me on the back and said, “And this is Aqua. She’s going to be working my looks in the runway show next month.”

Sean blinked a couple of times. I wondered if he had even heard of a fashion show before. That’s how clueless he looked.

“Right.” Sean’s eyes had finally cleared in understanding. “See you then, I guess. Um… Elliot.”

Elliot snapped her fingers and shot Sean a wink. “Yeah you will!”

The muscles in Sean’s face eased a bit. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was something pretty close.

“And... Aqua.” 

I don’t know if he did this purposely, but Sean turned slightly at the waist when he said my name so that his chest was facing me.

“See you around.”

He almost made it sound like a question. 

I honestly can’t remember what I said. Probably just “yeah.” Nothing memorable, witty or cute, that was for sure.

When the guy had left, I asked, “Who was that and why did you make him talk to us?”

Elliot gave a heartfelt chuckle as she flicked on the lights to her shop.

“That was Sean Mori. Sorry, but I absolutely could not help myself. He’s hilarious and adorable and I had a sneaking suspicion that meeting you would get him to say something other than, ‘Uh hey.’”

For a second, Elliot embodied Sean’s particular flavor of spacey-hot-mess when she imitated him. Then the designer broke character and flashed me a sly grin. “Turns out I was right.”

I scoffed as I followed Elliot to the checkout counter and leaned on the corner while she set up the register.

“Please. He didn’t even smile. He was totally checked out with both of us.”

Elliot snickered and shook her head, but she didn’t try to prove me wrong. 

“What is up with that guy anyway?” I said, thinking back to Sean’s lean muscle definition. He wasn’t a Greek god or anything, but… I liked what I saw. “I mean, who were we talking to just now?” 

“Well, Aqua, if the rumors about this place are true,” Elliot closed the register and sighed, “then you just met our resident ghost buster.”

[whileyouweredreaming]

from dream bitch 10.12.24

I dreamed I was at the old knitting factory on leonard st, at least it had that vibe, but maybe it was a new club? I was mad at someone who was putting on a show there and I can't remember why. I went there and the Fools were onstage (Jen and Uchenna) and I was happy to see that but it didn't stop me from pulling a prank, which was putting bologna, provolone and avocado (?) slices on the glass window of the door to the performance room.

I then walked away and got out okay, no one suspected anything as I left. over the next little while (few hours or days?) I started to feel guilty and scared I would get caught. I thought to myself, how could I? What if Jen and Uchenna thought I was doing that to insult them? (IRL, Jen contributed $50 to my gf's fundraiser recently, and in the dream I felt like shit.) Also I remembered that it was 2024 and CCTV was a thing that was easy to check.. so I got really scared.

I went back to the venue to try and see if there was CCTV cameras but then I was scared to look in the actual location lest they see me doing so and find me out that way. I went into this ballroom and everyone in there was like, "Finally!" I was hosting an event and was late! Angela and Leslie and Toby and Phoebe and Dibs and many other NY people I knew and maybe others from my whole life, were all there. I got up on the stage and looked at the clock. It said 6:40 so I knew I was only 10 minutes late. I tested out one of the mics. I faced the audience and thanked them for coming. Then they all started singing happy birthday to me. It was mid-September in the dream and I said thank you. Someone brought out a beautiful glittery birthday card that had been added to by everyone and it made me feel so happy. The art on the front looked a bit like my springtime linocut, but glittery. Like black and purple and iridescent glitter had been added.

Earlier in the dream there was a part where I was riding the subway with Toby and Angela and Leslie. I had to run for a train without dropping all my stuff. I had been perched up on a giant art sculpture that was also a subway staircase. It had colorful necks of creatures intertwined like snakes, but I believe they were necks.

(dreamed in palm springs, ca, 1st night here)

[the-firebird69]

Several things are bothering us and we will straighten them out one of them you do people in your mouth you're the same stuff you're going to regret you are saying stuff you will regret and put it in writing and we're going to go after you

We're going to send a notice to you people regarding your treatment of our son and if he is danger harmed and will put down what then we will say what we're going to do to the individuals involved and we will give you an idea of what we know about you and you're not going to like it

We're also going to come down there and straighten you out tonight and you're not going to like that either. We've got enough of your dog s*** and we're going to take you out and we want you to shut your face it comes time to say lots of you don't remember much and you say it all the time you're easy outs

Now there's a lot going on tonight there's a huge war and you are all involved and you're going after the max and you're forced to and you want to

It's a huge event tonight giant war is starting and you're going to get your asses kicked and thoroughly and tons of people see what you're saying all the time and they're going after you there's a few more things going on you do not have it you don't have the power to do what you're doing and get away with it you don't have the power to stay out of prison for what you've been doing with the Jets and you don't have the power to evade the authorities. Pretty much simply put you're not even going to know when it's coming cuz you never monitor people and they're arresting people all the time

-we don't like you here to start tonight's activity is proves that your irresponsible to a massive flaw

Today was sent down roughly 3% and is Mac morlock you had 11.5% and what's left is 8.5%, and they're is what you have topside right now. You're thinking of sending more and of attacking here with a lot more people. And we're prepping and it might drop down tonight below that but they're a huge numbers of you going and on the island of Australia and there's about 14% between both Islands and it's six and eight roughly we expect it to drop to five and seven if not more

Who said this before and it's happened before but this time around it is happening for real and it is a bad number it's 8.5% and we think it might drop to 7.5% tonight we also think they'll be in evacuation because of the basis because we're putting medium out there which are the size of Max very large bases. And you might think it's him but really there's about 20 going in there all of them are any of the cities and it will scare you out every night's going to be five eventually you'll be gone and evacuated to Australia mostly during that evacuation we anticipate you've been building up we expect the crabs to come in and all over the South and we're getting ready for that and to take over large areas and we're moving on it shortly and yeah we might keep several cities open on the way over and back and we understand about that and it is getting time for the Midwest ship to launch the upper Midwest should be out shortly and the Midwest will follow fairly quickly within a week or two we think at least that's what we say and along with that a whole bunch of mac ships some of them are class A they're four 23,000 mi ships and it's going on shortly.

Otherwise the jet issue is being taken care of they're fighting over it because they are fighting in the rain was at this time the force coming from West Palm has advancing and they are very upset and pissed off they said you're trying against us and he says no you're flying right over me and no it's not a sign of respect it's a sign of stupidity Tommy Evans having his way with you and they said this is nice he's saying it now I am saying it now so they get over there and the boss is left and the people are saying you're flying right over him and we don't want you to and they keep saying we're going to do what we want and follow orders and they start saying no and a bunch went home and started researching what he's doing as a group coming here to take his idiots out and they're going to do it anyways but we probably have more now coming here

-there's a huge number of times that the idiot interrupts and starts blabbing so I got to go after him and there are other things happening there's more oxygen here and some people feel it like our son it's helping him a little not a time and it's only gone up a little truthfully it's only gone up a couple points at night from about 16 to 18 on occasion and it's mild and it feels mild and I'm pretty sure it's going to go out pretty high when that ship is out and we anticipated to be out pretty soon when the stone chips go up that thing is going out and the max are realizing they're probably causing this war on them and they're starting to get antsy about it we do have some more information

-and the post is going to go up now

Thor Freya

Olympus

[invncibleiron]

Maria Stark had been a good person. There was a reason that the Stark Charity department still held her name. Tony could still remember being young enough to sit in her lap, young enough not to have tasted a drink yet, a kid listening to his mom describe her hometown; he remembered the pictures she'd pull out in her little, physical, picture album. He hadn't touched a physical photo album since, his whole world on the digital Stark servers--every memory, every memo, every file floating in the 'cloud.' He remembered the slight accent when his mother spoke English, and the hope in her eyes when she spoke of the future. He also remembered the day that light went out. There came a day--Tony couldn't have been older than six--that Maria Stark stopped trying, stopped coming out of her room, stopped fighting with her husband. She still attended all the balls and the events, still smiled for the cameras, but Tony saw what no one else would: that her smile was false, forced. Tony learned many things from his father; how to charm a crowd, how to lead a company, how to drink. He learned to smile from his mother.

All these years later, Tony couldn't blame his mother for retreating. She had been trapped in a loveless marriage and an unforgiving country; it was no wonder she'd hidden away her heart, the last thing she still had control of. In the meantime, she'd done all the good she could with what she'd been given; she'd found uses for the Stark fortune Howard would never have thought about, and she helped a lot of people with the years she had.

Mrs. Rhodes wasn't like Tony's mother though. She was warm, and when she smiled, she really meant it. When she told Tony he was welcome in her home, he almost believed it. He had fought ten foot lizard monsters and giant robots, fought actual, literal aliens, and still, there were few things in the world that frightened him quite as much as the idea of disappointing her. Waking her up right now wasn't on the table. So Tony sat quietly on the edge of Rhodey's bed, rubbing his palms over his face and feeling stupid--something he felt surprisingly often for someone who was anything but.

"This was a bad idea," he said finally. "We need to leave." He felt guilty saying it--we--but that was who he was, wasn't it? He was selfish, and he needed Rhodey at his side, even if Rhodey would have been better off if he'd never met him. He'd dragged Rhodey into his messes time and time again. The last he could do was keep his mom out of it. "I've been cloaking the house," he admitted, opening up the small holographic report on his watch. "But it's only a matter of time before someone realizes I'm here and makes it her problem, and it's not. I won't let it be."

invncibleiron​:

@bokketo is about to get all the starters (Rhodey)

Tony had been laying in bed for close to an hour, memorizing a shadow on the ceiling, before he finally gave in to the truth that he would not be sleeping tonight. He got up carefully, aware of the squeaking of the bed and of the floor under his feet as he patted down the hall toward Rhodey’s room. Tony was thirty-five years old, but he felt like a child sneaking out after curfew; Mrs. Rhodes always had a way of making him feel that way. In fact, Tony wasn’t sure he’d ever felt the way he did in the Rhodes’ home–like he was someone that needed caring for, someone worth worrying over.

It was irresponsible to be here, reckless even. The short way of putting it was that Tony’s life had become a bit of a mess: an ex employee had stolen a handful of Tony’s personal designs and used them to wreak havoc overseas, and though Tony had tracked him down and gotten back every last lug nut, his company’s stocks had plummeted and the board of investors was coming for his blood. Then there was the little fact that he’d fallen off the wagon and been photographed by paparazzi leaving a bar, that he’d publicly been dumped by Janet Van Dyne just days after, that the VR world he’d tried to make as entertainment had–like so many things he’d made–been weaponized, and now Tony was facing more lawsuits than he could name.

Falling off the radar for a bit had seemed like a good idea, but he never should have let Rhodey talk him into coming here. No paparazzi had followed him yet, but what if they did? What if they came knocking down Mrs. Rhodes’ door just because she’d made the damning mistake of taking pity on him?

Tony pushed open Rhodey’s bedroom door quietly. “You awake?” he whispered. God, he hoped he was awake.

     If Roberta had a window into Tony’s brain, he would have gotten quite the earful from her. There would be an initial tirade about how he could possibly believe that she couldn’t handle a few reporters and send them running back to their mothers, followed by one about how it was absolutely hellish of them to hound one of her boys like this, and eventually devolve into her sighing and stomping off to cook something because Tony really needed more meat on his bones.

     Luckily, Rhodey was less prone to lecturing. Instead, he blinked awake at the knock and squinted at the line of light that appeared around the edge of the opening door.

     “Tones? You okay?” He forced the gravel of sleep from his voice, sitting up. “Come in and close the door.” There would be hell to pay in the morning if they woke Rhodey’s mother up — or at least he would pay it. Tony, though equally scolded much of the time, also got preferential treatment these days. Rhodey understood ; the man had it hard enough right now, there was no need to add insult to injury.

     He motioned Tony forward, disentangling himself from the comforter and pulling it back so that there was room on the bed next to him. It was still the same twin bed he had since he was a kid with the same old space posters plastered on the wall next to it. The two of them probably had each one memorized by now given how much time they’d spent in this room, but Rhodey hadn’t been able to bring himself to swap them out. Sometimes he missed those simpler days, missed when they didn’t even have to think of the wider world past personal aspirations, never mind bearing the weight of it.

     “Sit,” he murmured. “Talk to me.”