#in my defence i took a break to set my water to boil and then put my pasta to cook

[mishkakagehishka]

Twice in the same chapter. Even.

How many times so far did we get "Mika: [thinking] hehe. Oshi-san is so cute when he's thinking / Shu: why are you looking at me like that? Have something you wanna say? Huh? Fuckface?"

[animatedarchives]

Can I request an imagine where midoriya cheats on the reader and bakugo finds her crying in the halls and is there for her and they grow a romantic relationship? Lots of angst and fluff pls! Thank u!

author’s note: hi dear, yes you absolutely can!! i love soft katsuki and i’m so sorry if this is not what you wanted but i hope you like it!! <3

TRUST FALL

— 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈

genre: angst at first, fluff at the end :>

warnings: mentions of cheating

word count: 1.2k words

“Izuku… Why?”

“I’m sorry Y/N… I didn’t know how to tell you…”

“Am I not good enough? Is that it? Is that why you cheated on me? Is there someone better?”

“I… I’m sorry Y/N…”

“Wait, don’t leave! Izuku, wait! Please! Please…”

You’ve been replaying the conversation over and over in your head for the past hour, each time failing to find the answer to your question.

Why? Why did you leave me?

The poor condition of the abandoned hallway you were in mirrored your despair; paint peeling off the walls, windows coated with grime and the dusty ground on which you sat in melancholy.

You leaned your head back against the wall, desperately trying to pull yourself together. You felt and looked like an absolute wreck. Your hair that was perfectly styled this morning was now disheveled, acting as a curtain that attempted to shield you from the hurts of the world. The trails on your cheeks held traces of all the tears you had shed. Your throat was parched for water and your eyes burned from the overproduction of saline.

Well, at least no one is here to see you like thi-

“Oi.”

Crap.

“What the hell are you doing here, sitting on the floor like a damn idiot?”

You have got to be joking. The universe just had to give you someone you knew. You shifted your body so that your back was facing him and swiftly wiped your eyes in a pitiful attempt to hide your misery.

“Oi! Don’t ignore me when I’m talking to you, shitface!” he spat.

“Dammit, Bakugo! Can you just mind your own business and leave me the hell alone?” you yelled over your shoulder.

You’ve never been very close to Bakugo and usually just tried to avoid him. It wasn’t because you hated him - because you didn’t - but you weren’t exactly very fond of him either. You just never appreciated the way he treated your now ex-boyfriend. Being fiercely protective of him, you were always the first one to come to Izuku’s defence and never backed down from a fight - whether verbal or physical - even if it was against Bakugo, one of the strongest, most hot-headed people in class. After multiple scoldings from Iida and your teachers, you decided it would be best to just avoid him altogether.

Eventually, as time went on and your relationship with Izuku began to get more serious, Bakugo’s bullying began to cease and he also started to keep his distance from the two of you. You found it slightly unusual at first, given he had years to stop picking on Izuku but chose not to until now. You weren’t complaining though. Whenever you and Izuku were together, you would also catch him glaring daggers at the two of you, more so at Izuku, but he never approached. You knew it wasn’t because he was afraid of you - he was hardly afraid of anything. Could it be that he possibly respected you for standing up to him? Your curiosity reaped no answers. Not that you cared much, but it would be a lie to say you weren’t interested in knowing the reason for his change in behaviour.

After your outburst, Bakugo’s footsteps stopped about three metres away from your curled up body, letting a tense silence settle between you. Even with your back turned, you could feel his eyes locked on your frame, watching your every move.

“Look, I don’t know what your damn problem is but if you think you can tell me what to do, you’d better think again,” his voice dripping with annoyance.

Oh my god, why was he so persistent? Could he not just go away? Your blood started to boil and the heat rushed to your face.

“Stop acting so weak and pathetic-”

“YOU KNOW WHAT BAKUGO,” you snapped, standing up and finally facing him. Bakugo’s eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight of your tear-stained face, but he didn’t look away. “YOU’RE RIGHT. MAYBE THAT REALLY IS WHAT I AM. WEAK AND PATHETIC.”

Bakugo opened his mouth but you cut him off.

“I’m constantly there for others and I always try to give everyone my all but in the end, who’s there for me? No one! I’m always the one that’s suffering, but people don’t notice because no one actually stops to think about me!”

“But Deku-”

“IZUKU CHEATED ON ME!” your cries echoed down the empty hallway. Hearing yourself say it out loud finally cemented the reality you were denying for so long. A lump started to form in your throat and you could feel your eyes starting to well up with tears again.

Bakugo’s body became stiff, a million thoughts running through his mind. You could have sworn you saw his eyes flash with anger, but you couldn’t see clearly through the thin film impairing your vision.

You choked out a sob. “I thought that someone had finally accepted me, finally acknowledged that I was worthy of being loved. But in the end, even the person I gave my everything to thought I wasn’t good enough.” You inhaled deeply and let out a shaky breath. You couldn’t cry in front of him. You wouldn’t. A wave of exhaustion finally hit you and you slid back down against the wall, curling into a ball and resting your chin on your knees. You were just so tired of everything.

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you this,” you laughed bitterly. “It’s not like you even care anyway.” You watched as an ant crawled across the space between you and Bakugo. Even ants had a colony, others they could depend on. And you? You had nobody.

“I do.”

Your train of thought came to a screeching halt as his words reached your ears. Your eyebrows furrowed and you raised your head to look up at him through your wet lashes. You had been here for so long that the sun was beginning to set, bathing Bakugo in a soft peachy glow.

“What?” you asked.

He looked at you straight in the eye, unflinching.

“I said I do,” he repeated. “I do care. About you.”

You blinked at him once. Twice. Three times. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Bakugo Katsuki, the last person in the world you thought you would be pouring your heart out to, just said he cared about you.

“Don’t lie,” you scoffed.

“Tch, I’m not lying, you idiot. You just don’t want to accept it,” he replied flatly.

Well, how could you? Words were just words after all. Izuku consistently told you that he loved you and still he shattered your heart. Trusting people just wouldn’t be so easy anymore. Your disbelief became apparent when you broke his gaze and pulled your knees closer to your chest.

He let out an exasperated sigh. “You never let me finish, by the way,” he said. You made no move to respond, but you were listening to every word he was saying, weighing the sincerity of each one.

“I said stop acting so weak and pathetic, not because you are, but because it is everything you are not.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe him so bad but you couldn’t find the heart to.

“You have never backed down when it came to protecting Deku against me. You weren’t afraid to stand up and challenge me. In fact, you are always at the frontlines, defending people you care so deeply about. That doesn’t make you weak. It shows that you’re strong. Putting others before yourself is a trait that every great hero has. And I admired you for that. A lot.”

Your mind was whirring. Not only were the things he was saying difficult to believe, but the words coming out of Bakugo's own mouth being anything but foul was so terrifyingly uncharacteristic of him that you couldn’t possibly believe it was true.

“Which is why…” he muttered, so softly that you almost didn’t catch it. You waited for him to finish his sentence but he never did.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye and saw him looking at the floor. You had never seen Bakugo this vulnerable before. Oh, how the tables had turned.

“Which is why…?” you urged him to continue. You weren’t sure if it was the radiant sun that gave a reddish tint to his cheeks or if you were actually witnessing the infamously brash Bakugo Katsuki blushing.

“Which is why I li…” he mumbled, the end of his sentence dissipating due to lack of articulation.

“Why what?” you asked again, mildly irritated that he wouldn’t just spit it out.

He groaned loudly.

“WHICH IS WHY I LIKE YOU, DAMMIT!” he finally admitted, raising his voice as he turned to look straight at you.

Your eyes widened so much you thought your eyeballs were going to pop out of their sockets. You didn’t even bother hiding the shock on your face. This was simply incomprehensible.

But the more you mulled it over, the more it started to make sense. The explanation for Bakugo’s behaviour towards you and Izuku could finally be explained: he was jealous. Seeing you with anyone but himself infuriated him, especially if it was the boy who was effortlessly gaining everything he had ever wanted. That was why Bakugo continued tormenting Izuku, only he never expected it would be you that he would end up fighting as you stepped in to defend your boyfriend. As your relationship became more serious, Bakugo was forced to step back out of respect, but he never stopped glowering whenever he saw you two together. The reason he stopped tormenting Izuku was not because he was afraid of you, nor was it because he respected your determination to defend the boy you loved. It was because it would break his heart to be the cause of your distress. Everything he did… was because of you.

“WELL? Don’t just give me that stupid look! Say something!” he shouted in frustration, desperate for an answer.

Part of you felt relieved to see Bakugo return to his familiar aggressive self, but another part somehow knew that he was only doing it to cover up the fact that he was deeply embarrassed. The thought made a small smile tug at the corner of your lips. You valued the fact that he trusted you enough to let his guard down.

And you wanted to trust him too. But with everything that had happened, you just weren’t sure if you were ready to put your heart on the line again. Your eyebrows knitted together in concentration as you tried to form a coherent string of words that could accurately express everything you thought and felt.

He watched intently as you bit your lower lip and fiddled nervously with the hem of your skirt. Although the suspense was eating him alive, he respected the fact that you needed to collect your thoughts and waited patiently for your answer. Besides, it meant that you were seriously considering his confession, which was all he could have hoped for. Finally, you got to your feet and made your way over to him, his crimson eyes never leaving yours.

“Bakugo…” you started gently. He might have seemed collected on the outside, but his heart was beating impeccably fast and his anxiety levels were off the charts.

“I really appreciate your honesty but… I’m just really unsure. It’s not that I don’t want to trust you but…” you exhaled shakily. “I’m just scared. I can’t just keep giving my heart to people I’m not sure would treasure it… I just can’t. I need to protect myself too. I don’t want my heart to get broken again. I-”

He grabbed your face and pressed his lips against yours, cutting you off. Caught by surprise, you weren’t sure how to respond. But as he kissed you, you could feel how much he meant every single thing he said. Suddenly, they weren’t just words anymore.

The kiss was soft and gentle as if he were afraid to hurt you, especially when you were already in so much pain. Yet, he never lacked passion, because he wanted to prove how true his feelings were for you. But above all, the kiss… his love…

It was sincere.

Genuine.

Honest.

You melted into the kiss, hesitant at first but slowly willing to give love another try.

Bakugo broke the kiss and leaned back to admire the face he thought was so beautiful. His strong hands traced down your face to your shoulders and finally came to a rest at your arms, rubbing your skin soothingly.

“You’re right, you know. You can’t just give your heart to people. If you do, you’re bound to get heartbroken,” he said.

You frowned and stared forlornly at your feet, unsure of what to say. You knew he was right but you couldn’t help it. All you ever wanted was to be loved. To matter to someone.

“Which is why,” he took your chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting your head up to look at him. For the first time, you saw his eyes up close. They weren’t the blazing hot embers everyone associated with his rageful and dangerous behaviour. Right now, under the warmth of the setting sun, they were the soft comfort of red satin that whispered a love so pure, you couldn’t help but feel enraptured by them. His eyes burned, but it was far from malicious. They burned with desire for one thing alone.

You.

“I will do whatever it takes to earn it.”

© written and published by animatedarchives 2020. please do not steal or repost. thank you.

[beewolfwrites]

The Oar in the Sand - Chapter Eight: Polyphemus

@cheshiya @tenseoyong @szallejhscorner @something-more-original-please @ofsunsetsandpoetries @nek0dzuken @allozaur @hiqhkey @serenzippity

Finally finished editing this! It certainly took long enough :’) Hopefully the Odyssey themes are starting to work their way in more now. 

Thank you for being so patient with me! I’ll get started on the next chapters as soon as possible.

AO3 Link. 

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

The beat of silence that followed stretched on forever, the way a moment of dread moves in slow motion, or the instance you run from a nightmare, only to find your heavy feet stuck to the ground. But this wasn’t a nightmare. Pinching my cheeks wouldn’t wake me up from this dream. 

And so, with a squeak of my shoe against the vinyl, I ran.

A series of crashes resounded behind me as he gave chase. Him. Niragi. The one who was supposed to be dead. Chishiya had torched him alive, Aguni had taken him down with the hotel… so how? 

And why me of all people? 

Why do I always get the short straw? 

I had no idea where I was running to, just that I needed to get out. Now. There were no signs for the exit, no matter which direction I looked, and I could feel him gaining on me as the hospital halls stretched on and on.

Ducking into one of the wards, I skidded to the ground and slid under one of the beds. The white sheets draped over the edges, obscuring me from view. It still wasn’t enough. I eyed the room from beneath the sheets, hearing the dull clap of footsteps and the slam of doors as he billowed through the hospital. 

And then his toes peeked around the door to the ward. He was barefoot, the skin becoming more blistered and red before the bandages around his torso hid the worst extent of the damage. That awful patterned shirt was still wrapped around his head, obscuring most of his face, yet his grin was unmistakable. 

‘Come on out, little spy,’ he sang, padding softly between the beds. ‘Let’s have some fun.’ 

Spy?

Was he still that paranoid? 

As he grew closer, I noticed the skin on his face was irritated and scabbed in places. He’d pulled his shirt over one eye to hide the damage. 

‘If you come out now, I won’t kill you,’ he said. 

Every nerve in my body prickled, attentive, as he stealthily came closer, inspecting each bed one by one. His feet appeared beneath the white sheets, and the mattress dipped with a creak above me. Under Niragi’s weight, my chest was crushed against the ground. 

I can’t breathe! 

I couldn’t move either. I was neither living nor dead, detached from it all in one numb vacuum as I stared at his feet from under the sheets - my only defence. 

And then, as if by some miracle, he stood up and the mattress lifted.   

With a hiss, he strode out of the ward and back into the main hallway. Slowly but surely, the pad of his feet softened into nothing and he disappeared. I wasn’t sure how I stayed there, swathed by walls of white linen, until I eventually inched out from under. 

He’s alive. 

Even now, I still couldn’t believe he had survived. During the final stretch of the Witch Hunt, he hadn’t hesitated to shoot at me, and now, if he got his hands on another gun I would be a dead woman walking.  

The hospital was silent once more, and there were no signs of Niragi anywhere. Though I wasn’t prepared to go back for the water dispenser; there was no energy left in me to lug the thing. The dread of what was to come was already far too heavy to carry home. 

Home. 

Is that what this was now? 

No, it wasn’t my home. It was a used furniture store in the middle of a city I was a mere tourist in. 

I trudged through the first emergency exit I saw and followed a set of steps down into the bushes overgrowing at the side of the hospital, before wandering out into the empty city once again. 

The air was cloying in my chest, and just as I dipped between two cars, I felt the first few drops of rain lightly speckling my cheeks. No matter how much the rain picked up into a strong patter, it wasn’t enough to break through this thick cloud. 

When I got back, Chishiya was on the roof, hood pulled up against the rain. I felt his eyes trailing after me as I walked up the steps and pushed through the entrance. The exhaustion suddenly became too much and I sank into an armchair, mulling over what had happened and wishing it would all go away. The front door opened as Chishiya joined me inside.

‘Let me guess, you cleared the Jack now too.’ 

It was callous. Uncalled for. I pushed my face further into the armchair. 

‘Actually, I thought you’d be clearing the Jack,’ I mumbled. ‘You didn’t go?’ 

I heard him sit down on the couch, and exhaled. The weight of his iron gaze was pulling me towards him, as if I was about to be scolded for something that wasn’t my fault. Again. 

‘Do you accidentally run into trouble,’ he said, ‘or do you purposely go out looking for it?’

I slowly shuffled around, wishing I could sink into the folds of the chair and disappear forever. Chishiya appeared either annoyed, apathetic, or something in-between. 

‘How did you guess?’ 

‘It wasn’t a guess. You’re just easy to read.’ 

‘Niragi’s alive,’ I said. 

There was no reaction, or at least something akin to the reaction I had expected. He hummed slowly and his lips tilted into a sly smile. ‘He must really want to survive.’ 

‘Did you know?’ 

‘Not at all.’ 

‘You don’t seem surprised.’ 

‘That’s because I’m not,’ he replied curtly. ‘If he survived after I set him on fire, he’d survive after Aguni knocked him over.’ 

‘It was hardly a knock,’ I reminded him.

The Witch Hunt already felt like a long time ago, but maybe that was because of how time is in the Borderlands. Without smartphones, traffic, work and the hectic stream of everyday life screaming into one constant blur, an hour stretched on for days. But I could still recall it so clearly, even if it was like recalling a dream, how Aguni, the man who’d once tried to force Usagi back to his room, decided to throw himself directly into the line of fire for us.

‘Did you get what you wanted?’ 

The bluntness of Chishiya’s question pulled me back to the present. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘You said there was something you wanted.’

For the slightest moment, I’d assumed he was throwing accusations around again

‘Not quite… I wanted a water dispenser. I thought it’d be good for us, instead of having all these bottles.’ Another thought hit me, and I rubbed my tired eyes. ‘We’ve run out of water too.’ 

‘Actually, we haven’t.’ 

‘What do you mean?’ 

He had that knowing expression, the kind when he’s solved a game within less than a minute and he’s only waiting for you to catch up. ‘I put some buckets outside when it started raining.’ 

That’s why he’s a genius and I’m not. 

How did I not see the obvious solution to our water problem? After all, the Beach collected rainwater and relied on it constantly. If there was a storm coming, we’d have more than enough water for two of us. 

The relief was peaceful, and the lull of the raindrops against the window was pulling me towards sleep. Truth be told, I needed a bath. But there was no point bringing the buckets in while it was still raining. Instead, I got up and dropped onto the couch beside Chishiya. He flinched a little when I lay down and rested my head in his lap, but he soon gave in, and his fingers wound their way into my hair. 

‘Don’t.’ I reached up and tapped his hand. ‘It needs washing.’ 

He ignored me and continued his ministrations. ‘So does mine.’ 

I started telling him all about my run in with Niragi in the hospital. Just discussing it was reassuring, as if I wasn’t the only one carrying this fear. When I saw him, he was all burnt up, the skin blistered and yellow where his bandages didn’t cover; no wonder he was searching for the morphine. However, someone had attacked him, and I wasn’t talking about Chishiya. He’d pulled his shirt over one eye, but the skin around it was blue and black, and his lip was scabbed in the corner. 

Fire didn’t bruise. 

But who? 

Who had the nerve to beat up Niragi?

‘Who wouldn’t want to beat him up?’ Chishiya chimed in, after I’d voiced my thoughts. ‘I’m sure the list is quite long.’ 

‘We’d be near the top of it. Whoever it was must’ve been brave.’ 

Chishiya huffed lightly. ‘I lit him up with a homemade flamethrower. Does that not count towards bravery?’ 

I thought of that rooftop where everything collided at a head. Chishiya had taken his time to build his own weapon. He’d come with a plan, and Niragi had been patiently waiting. 

‘Let’s put an end to this, shall we?’ 

‘If I hadn’t been there at that time,’ I asked, ‘would you have still gone after Niragi?’ 

‘Of course.’ There was no hesitation. ‘It was bound to happen anyway. I wanted to take him down while I was prepared.’

Or before Niragi found him first. 

‘He’ll kill us if he finds us, won’t he?’ 

‘Probably. But isn’t that part of the fun?’ 

I was too sleepy to answer. His fingers were trance-like, sweeping through my hair with a reassuring gentleness that someone like him would never admit to. I must’ve dozed off into a dreamless sleep, because when I woke up, the rain had stopped and Chishiya had disappeared, having placed my head on the couch cushion instead. 

Stretching awake, I found him messing around in the kitchen, boiling water from a bucket to make tea. 

A bucket. 

That’s right, we have water now!

‘Hey.’ 

Chishiya didn’t turn around, although his silence had become normal now. I had a feeling he was annoyed or uncomfortable about me using him as a pillow, even if he didn’t protest at the time. As he busied himself opening up a pack of tea bags, I wanted to wrap my arms around his neck from behind. The only thing holding me back was the knowledge that he’d hate it. 

‘I hope you don’t mind if I use some of the water for a bath.’ 

He continued as if I wasn’t there at all. Then in a quiet voice, he said, ‘Just don’t use it all.’ 

So he wasn’t entirely mad at me. Whatever was getting him down, I’d get to the bottom of it eventually. For now, I briefly ran my finger along the back of his elbow, like he’d done so many times to me. He stilled, but didn’t say anything more as I left the kitchen. 

A bath in the Borderlands was no longer a luxurious dip in a tub of hot water and bubbles. At the Beach maybe, but that life was in ashes now, slowly washing away into the river. Outside, I discovered the line of buckets that had gone unnoticed earlier. They were overflowing with fresh rainwater, and I carefully dragged one inside. It would be a waste of gas to heat it all up on the camping stove, so I took it straight into the bathroom and locked the door behind me. 

I tested the water with a finger and immediately yanked it out. 

Ah! It’s freezing! Though I suppose I can’t complain. 

When Kuina, Chishiya and I set up a camp here, we were pretty lucky. The bathroom had tile floors and a drain in the corner, and we cleared enough space for several buckets and a pitcher. It wasn’t like the hot showers and baths we’d grown used to at the hotel, but bucket baths were commonplace in a number of countries, and if it was good enough for them, it was good enough for us.

Removing my clothes, I used the soap, shampoo and pitcher to wash myself. Once I got past the cold, it was refreshing. I finally felt I could wash away all the traces of that hospital and the fear of being hunted. After everything we’d survived through, to die by Niragi’s hand would be humiliating, like admitting defeat. 

I reached for the bucket, and froze. 

What… what is this?! 

The water was thick with blood. 

[arigatouiris]

rose colored glasses // oikawa x reader

Author’s Note: Words just spilled on this one... Oops. I adore Oikawa and I’ve always thought writing for him was a tad bit intimidating, but here’s this one I’ve been working on for a bit. I hope you like it~ I relate to the reader here in such a personal way like... the self-indulgence is evident.

Word count: 6480 words

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x Insecure! Reader

Warnings: angst, body-shaming, insecurity, depressive thoughts, eventual fluff, mutual pining

If anyone asked Iwaizumi, he’d tell them that he doesn’t take Oikawa seriously in anything except Volleyball. 

The boy had a reputation of being a flirt, laughing around, being silly—but hiding away his darker, more ambitious aspects behind a veil of stupidity. Iwaizumi knew his best friend like the back of his hand, and whether he’d like to admit it or not, Oikawa wasn’t the sort to put anyone over his love for the sport—something that once even cost him a relationship. 

Although, Iwaizumi knew that the girl Oikawa had dated was just dating him because of his popularity (and he didn’t like her one bit, that Iwa-chan), Oikawa wasn’t that into the girl himself. The reason for their breakup had been a simple one—Oikawa just liked Volleyball more. He wouldn’t let anything distract him, and it wasn’t that he didn’t let anything distract him, it was that nothing ever came close. 

Which is why Iwaizumi was confused when Oikawa started talking about you one day in the middle of practice.

     “Apparently she’s allergic to flowers, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa snorted, “What girl is allergic to flowers?” 

There was nothing amusing in that statement at all, yet Oikawa was laughing like his heart was hanging loose. Iwaizumi just watched him, as he drank his water and prepared himself for another round of practice. 

     “Oh!” As if he was reminded about something, “I told (y/n)-chan to come watch practice sometime. Next week sounds about okay.”

Oh, really? Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes. He already couldn’t stop talking about you, and if you showed up, Oikawa would be uncontrollable and quite possibly, unbearable. But, there was no stopping the setter—Oikawa would do it if his mind was set on it, and turns out, his mind was set on you coming to practice next week. It was a bit impressive that Oikawa didn’t realize that his obsession with you was romantic, because the boy would not stop talking about you if you came up even once. 

Ever since the homeroom teacher transferred your seat to the one beside Oikawa, much to the chagrin of the other girls who desperately wanted to sit there, Oikawa had been obsessed with you. You joked around with him, called him ‘pretty-boy’ as an insult and not a way to get closer to him, minded your own business on most days and spoke silly things in between class, Oikawa was enthralled to have found a friend in you. Maybe it was this curiosity that he wasn’t used to a girl not throwing herself at him that drove him to want to get to know you, and despite not getting to know you as quickly as he’d liked, Oikawa’s strange curiosity turned out to be a borderline crush.

As they were walking home together, Iwaizumi wanted to slap the back of the setter’s head because there he goes again—(y/n)-chan this, (y/n)-chan that—gah, Hajime wanted to scream!

     “Tooru,” Hajime never uses Oikawa’s first name unless it was something serious, therefore Oikawa paused at his friend’s sudden change in demeanor, “Do you like her?”

Oikawa scoffed before shaking his head animatedly, “Of course not! She’s just... (y/n)-chan!”

Alright, Hajime thought before turning away. If it hadn’t reached a point where Tooru had admitted the crush to himself then there wasn’t much to worry about. However, since the start of this entire ordeal seemed so new, Iwaizumi knew that perhaps, the way it ended would also be a tad bit different.

The next morning, Oikawa walked in to spot you, laying your head on the table, fast asleep. There wasn’t anyone in class yet, since practice had ended early. Hajime was in the bathroom, washing his face or something, which gave Tooru time to head to the classroom much faster. He’d wash his face too, but the sweaty sheen on his cheeks made him seem irresistible, and he wondered how you’d respond to that sight. 

But, you were sleeping. And it was hardly 7:45 a.m. Pouting, Oikawa walked over to his own desk before plopping beside you and poking your head. You woke up instantly, before wiping off the bit of drool that had accumulated at the edge of your lip—Oikawa’s eyes widened at how your half-lidded eyes were struggling to land on him, before you softly slapped your own cheek a couple times and sitting up straight.

     “You alright, (y/n)-chan?” Oikawa asked, tilting his head, ignoring the loud thumping of his heart.

You nodded before letting out a yawn, “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

He was curious. Why? What were you doing that was so important that you forsake sleep? 

Did something happen? 

Is everything okay?

Oikawa placed a hand against his chest before letting out a breath. The bubbling nervousness was a familiar feeling but there was no incoming match neither was Iwaizumi mad at him, so there was no need for him to be feeling this at all.

     “Why were you awake?” Oikawa was proud that this question came out in a tone that suggested that you may have done something naughty.

You scoffed before turning to Oikawa and flicking him on his forehead, letting out a giggle.

     “My dog’s sick,” You said, your voice low. “Stupid baby was whining all night. The vet said there’s nothing to worry about, she just ate something.”

The relief that flooded within Oikawa’s bloodstream was unnatural. He turned away from you and hummed, placing his chin on his hand, resting on his elbow. Sticking a tongue out, he wondered what better way to make fun of you now—but the second he turned to see you, you were about to doze off again. A soft smile sat on his features, as he watched you, absolutely being yourself, with no care in the world, letting down all defences with Oikawa right there beside you. The feeling it gave him was thrilling, to say the least.

That afternoon, it was Iwaizumi who noticed that you were not in any lunch table—in fact, you weren’t even in the cafeteria. He blinked before thinking if you came to school, nodded to himself when he realized that you had, but you were skipping lunch for some reason. Oikawa sat in front of him and looked like he was extra hungry, a tray with traditional rice and curry alongside an extra meat bun.

     “Someone’s hungry.” Hajime commented, eyeing the meat bun.

     “No, no, Iwa-chan, this,” Oikawa pointed to the fluffy, white bun, “is for (y/n)-chan. Yuuna-chan was sick all night so she didn’t get much sleep.”

Yuuna-chan? Hajime’s eyes were spilling confusion. Oikawa chuckled a moment later before stuffing a spoonful of rice with curry. 

     “Her dog,” He said, “Yuuna-chan was sick and (y/n)-chan stayed up all night taking care of her. She was literally falling all over the place, sleeping.”

So now he’s taking care of her without her asking him? Hajime thought to himself, tilting his head a bit. This was nothing like the Oikawa he knew, this was nothing like any Oikawa he knew. This was something he knew that a boy with a crush behaves like. 

     “Make up your mind, trashykawa.” Iwaizumi cussed under his breath before finishing his lunch.

Upon reaching class, he noticed that you were asleep. Oikawa was behind him, and Hajime watched the scene unfold before him. Oikawa sat at his desk before poking your head once, stirring you awake.

     “Got you a meat bun, (y/n)-chan!”

     “Oh! Thanks, Oikawa-san!” You sounded so sleepy.

Hajime sighed before sitting down, continuing to read his book. Until Oikawa admits it that he likes you, there was no problem. Maybe, this is one of those situations where Oikawa thinks he likes you before he realizes that volleyball is more important. It wasn’t as if Iwaizumi didn’t want his best friend liking someone, he just didn’t want someone getting hurt because of his best friend’s singular obsession. 

Because as much as many believe Oikawa can be cold-hearted when it came to the sport, Hajime knew that the brown haired setter had a heart of gold.

What drove Hajime to the extreme was when Oikawa decided to meet up with you on a Monday. Hajime frowned as Oikawa spoke about the plan he had with you, meeting you at the park where you were going to show off Yuuna-chan’s cuteness, and Iwaizumi felt anger boil in his veins. Mondays were the days Oikawa took a break—and that meant a proper break where he doesn’t think or do anything that could strain him. Yes, dates on Mondays were a great idea, but Hajime hated Oikawa’s half-assed ‘we’re just friends, Iwa-chan’ swirling around the air.

     “Oi! Trashykawa!” Oikawa blinked before turning to Hajime who had a mean glare plastered on his face.

     “What’s up, Iwa-chan?”

     “Either confess to her or shut up,” Oikawa’s eyes widened, “We don’t have time for half-assed feelings getting in the way here.”

It wasn’t fascinating to see how quickly Oikawa dismissed what his best friend had to say. Hajime sighed before looking away himself, let’s see how things unfold, he thought before letting it go for now. 

*

     “(y/n)-chan!” Oikawa’s sing-song voice was hard to miss.

You turned to spot him across the corridor, Iwaizumi right beside him. The two of them were approaching you, and you waved kindly, before wondering what Oikawa had to say. You didn’t miss how much he would flirt with you, but you laughed it off, obviously someone like Oikawa would juxtapose regular conversation with casual flirting; it was just that natural for him. 

You even wondered if he flirted with Iwaizumi, Oikawa just seemed like that kind of person. Not to mention, the reputation that he had.

     “What’s up, Oikawa-san?”

It always stung that you’d call him ‘Oikawa-san’, always unintentionally throwing that verbal gap between you two. You’d become ‘(y/n)-chan’ for him in merely a week and here, it had been almost an entire school semester and he was still ‘Oikawa-san’, not even ‘Oikawa-kun’. He didn’t know he was capable of it, but he swallowed that hurt like it didn’t even matter and approached you still.

     “We have a game,” Oikawa said, sounding proud of himself, “The Inter-High!”

Your eyes widened a bit before nodding once, “Yeah, I’ve heard that we were exempt from the first round of matches.”

It was then that Hajime recalled a particular conversation he had with Oikawa a while ago. Tooru had mentioned that you were going to come watch practice games, but for some reason, he never mentioned it again, and you never came. You didn’t attend a single practice—and that was a tad bit suspicious.

     “We’re playing against Oomisaki High in a week. Want to come support your favorite setter?”

The blatant flirting was a tad bit too loud for Hajime, but you looked like it didn’t faze you one bit. This was also suspicious.

     “Hm,” You folded your arms against your chest, shooting a smirk at Oikawa, “You can ask literally any girl, and you’re asking me? Oikawa-san, that’s mean to the girls.”

Ah, Hajime didn’t think it was suspicious anymore. It was as clear as day. He quickly looked at Oikawa’s face, the smile was slowly being wiped off, his eyes slowly losing the spark and his tongue inches away from clicking. You were not taking Oikawa seriously, his attempts to flirt with you, please you, get to know you and woo you were all thrown against the wall—it didn’t matter to you not because your eyes were set elsewhere; it didn’t matter to you because your eyes, no matter how much Oikawa would want it, did not meet his.

That evening, right before practice, Hajime noticed Tooru’s stature; he seemed low, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let this affect his game. Oikawa was just that kind of person—he’d put aside everything, even if it meant a genuine crush, and work on his form.

An hour later than usual—that’s how long the practice lasted that evening. No one understood why Oikawa was just that pissed off, was that driven, especially when the game was against a school that they’ve never really played against seriously. They’d all understand if it was Shiratorizawa or even Karasuno for that matter, but Oikawa’s personality during practice that evening just did not make sense.

     “Is everything okay with him?” Hanamaki asked Iwaizumi, while Tooru jump served the wall.

Hajime sighed before shrugging, “You know how he gets sometimes.”

     “This is just... It’s not like Oikawa-san to act like this over nothing.”

It wasn’t nothing. The first and only time Oikawa ever took someone seriously, the first and only time Oikawa had an open crush on someone for their personality, and to have that person just divert their gaze away from him as if he wasn’t worth anything—that could hurt anyone, even if it was the Grand King of the court. 

     “He’ll be fine.”

Hajime had miscalculated. He believed that if it was something Oikawa hadn’t admitted to himself, then there was nothing much to worry about. Not having a dialogue with his friend had proved hazardous, now there was no turning back. He would never admit it, but Hajime cared for Oikawa more than anyone else—he was a best friend, a confidante, and he had seen the many faces Oikawa Toru had presented to the world.

This was the first time he was seeing the face of Oikawa Toru in love, and as many times as Hajime had pictured it being a funny, non-callous, ridiculous face, it was instead the most angsty and life-absorbing face ever.

While heading back home, Hajime noticed the silence, but he was sure that Oikawa himself would address it. He just had to wait.

     “Iwa-chan,” Hajime blinked, “She doesn’t take me seriously, does she?”

Iwaizumi sighed, scratching the back of his head, “Well, you do have a track record.”

He heard Oikawa click his tongue after. Does a track record mean that he could never, ever be taken seriously? Did a track record mean that Oikawa was incapable of feeling real emotions? It hurt Hajime to think it, and he only could imagine what Oikawa must have been feeling.

     “You shouldn’t flirt with her so much,” Oikawa blinked before turning to Hajime, “She won’t take you seriously if you joke around so much.”

He joked around because he was breathless around you. He joked around because his lips naturally turned into goofy smiles whenever you were near him. He couldn’t help it, everything about you was intoxicating, and Oikawa felt like a silly little goose with no aim, and when you turned to him, smiling, waving like he was a friend that you would like to talk to, Oikawa’s own smile rivalled an idiot’s. 

He didn’t realize how whipped he was for you until the next few days.

Through each game, Oikawa was painfully aware of how you were not there. He felt your absence the absence of teeth; he didn’t need a mirror to know that they were not there. His mind was fairly distracted when they were playing against Karasuno, but once they won, his eyes trailed to the stands, his heart knowing you were not there, and Oikawa just turned away.

Iwaizumi winced at how love-struck his friend seemed, but it wasn’t unlike him. Most people believed Oikawa would carry his disappointment blatantly on his shoulders, for the entire world to know, but Tooru wasn’t like that. Tooru swallowed his disappointment, for things that mattered didn’t require loud outbursts; things that mattered came out through silent screams, screams that resonated within his mind and swallowed him whole. It was during these few days when you were not around did Oikawa realize he was irrevocably in love with you, and for what seemed like the first time, he did not know what to do about it.

Should he just tell you and swallow the rejection? He was a smart lad, he knew you didn’t return his feelings; but that wasn’t what truly bothered him. What bothered Tooru was that you didn’t think his feelings were genuine, and that proved to be hurtful and insulting all at the same time. 

When they were due to play Shiratorizawa, Tooru did not think of you. He played with everything he had, every single cell in his body screamed to be at its best, Iwaizumi doing the same. Every single person in his team had given their all and yet... Yet, getting where he wanted seemed like an impossible dream. Tooru’s hopes were crushed, his team would not get to the nationals. He wanted to apologize, he wanted to scream that he had failed his team, but no word exited his mouth. Upon reaching the bus to return to their own school, his breath was knocked out of him to find you there.

Iwaizumi ushered the rest of the team inside the bus, before placing a hand on Tooru’s shoulder. Nodding once, Hajime walked away, hoping you wouldn’t tell Oikawa that it was he who had beckoned you.

Hajime had sent a message to you earlier that morning, asking you to come watch the game. It was the finals, after all. 

You noticed Oikawa’s form, but there was no smile on his face. He looked nothing like the Oikawa you knew—the fun, sporty lad whose mouth spilled flirtatious words left, right, and center. You walked over to him, as he stood there, his bag loosely hanging over his shoulder. 

     “Oikawa-san?” Your voice was a whisper.

You didn’t know why you felt so overwhelmed upon seeing him like this. 

     “We lost.” Oikawa said, trying to sound strong.

You shook your head, “You guys were amazing,” You were suddenly breathless, “You were amazing.”

You hadn’t ever seen him so... genuine. Was this why he kept asking you to come see him practice? So that you can glimpse at the real side of who he was? You always believed he was joking around, you didn’t even want to get close to someone like him because you knew hurt was in store for you. You forced yourself not to be interested because there was no way in hell someone like Oikawa could like someone like you, someone who wasn’t even in any club, someone with no actual talent, someone who—

Your eyes widened when he hugged you. Almost all of his weight was on you and for the first time you felt how disappointed he was. It was like osmosis, it was seeping through his body on to yours, and your eyes teared up.

     “It’s okay, Oikawa-san,” You said, not knowing if it’ll help. “You were amazing.”

It was a few days after the loss and after learning Shiratorizawa were hailed the winners of this year’s Inter High did Oikawa text you. You wanted to give him space, knowing you weren’t exactly the closest confidant for the boy. Your eyes scanned the text, knowing what it was, but choosing to step away from any sort of expectation. 

Let’s get lunch today?

Your hands ghosted around the screen of your phone before licking your lips and replying a firm, ‘sure!’ and leaving it at that. 

You met Oikawa around noon and you wouldn’t deny how breathtaking he looked. He was wearing glasses? That fact shocked you, but everything about him was downright illegal. He was so good looking that it almost caught you off-guard when you were around him, wanting to be normal, wanting to maintain a regular conversation and not sound like the hopeless high school girl you thought you were. You knew who Oikawa was, but if you weren’t placed beside him on that one day during homeroom, there was no way he’d ever know you.

     “What do you like to eat, (y/n)-chan?” 

You thought for a bit before saying, “Barbecue?” 

Oikawa chuckled before you frowned, “What’s funny?”

     “Most girls would stall on the answer, you’re different.”

You scoffed, “I know what I like to eat, Oikawa-san—”

     “Why don’t you call me by my first name?” He asked, looking at you.

Your eyes widened a bit before a soft blush sat on your cheeks, “Uh... I just...”

     “I call you (y/n)-chan, so it’s only fair!”

He’s right, you thought before looking away, unsure of how to respond. Suddenly, you felt like a peasant—everything about you started to stand out, in a bad way, your mind being extremely unkind to you. The dress you wore, the way you’d done your hair, your shaking fingers, your eyes, your nose—everything started to scream at you. And then there he was, absolutely perfect and spotless, Oikawa Tooru, the epitome of desires, the man with no fault, grace personified, walking beside you because he wanted to.

You felt nauseous all of a sudden, but you gulped it away forcefully.

The date was actually fun. You never realized Oikawa loved aliens, and since you loved everything about the stars, it was a perfect conversation. That was how most things were with Oikawa—perfect and glorious, just like how he was. You looked away when you caught him looking at your face, wanting to hide yourself in a brown bag. You felt ugly, you felt like you were no match to how he compared as a human being and you felt tears prick your eyes at how you felt.

He even offered to walk you home and as much as your mind screamed that you should have said no, your heart whispered a small ‘yes’, wanting to spend more time with this man, who gave you a thousand reasons to dream yet you couldn’t. 

Standing in front of your gate, Oikawa leaned forward, causing you to gasp—you moved before you could think, your hands planted themselves firmly on his chest before you shut your eyes, feeling your heartbeat in your ears. Oikawa’s eyes widened at the sight of you, before pulling away, red-faced and ashamed, quickly covering his jaw with the back of his hand.

He shook his head and words spilled out of him, “You came because you felt sorry for me, didn’t you?”

Your eyes widened at his cold words, “W-What? N-no, I—”

     “Iwa-chan was right,” Tooru clicked his tongue, frowning, “I should just give up on you.”

Iwaizumi said that? You always believed he didn’t like you, but you never knew that this was how far the conversation had gone. Perhaps, Iwaizumi saw you how you saw yourself, and if that was the case, then he was right.

     “Give up on me?” You gulped before frowning, “Do you really... Is this—”

     “Yes, this is real.” You had never heard him sound so defeated.

You look up at him, his eyes soft on your form, but bitterness lodged in them where love should have been. You want to gasp, but you weren’t breathing at all, you were shocked to see him the way he was. Did he not see you for who you were? Was he blind? Was he an idiot?

No, he was not any of those things. He was perfect.

But you... 

You were...

     “Oikawa-san, I... I really thought...”

Oikawa shrugs, you spotted no tears in his eyes but you wondered how he was feeling, “You thought what? You thought I’m incapable of feeling real things?”

No, you felt tears prick your eyes, No, I thought you would never feel them for me.

     “Oikawa-san, I... I thought you were joking around because... Look at me! I’m in no club, I have no talent, I... I’m no one—”

Oikawa gives you a look that you really couldn’t decipher. It looked so sad and hurt at the same time.

     “You’re blind as hell, (y/n)-chan.”

He couldn’t do it. There was no way he could consider your insecurity right then. Oikawa was far too hurt to consider your thoughts; he felt like he was drowning, with everything that had happened in a matter of a week. His team had lost to Shiratorizawa, they were denied of a chance to go to the Nationals, a dream that he had robbed even Iwaizumi off, and the girl he was so devastatingly in love with did not feel the same way.

If he were to deal with your insecurity over his feelings for you, Oikawa hoped he’d get another chance; because right now, his heart was full and inches away from breaking.

You were worried for when school would start again. After Spring Break, you were going to have to face Oikawa again. He’d still be placed beside you, but now things would just be quiet and awkward. Your heart rummaged in your chest when you thought of the brown haired setter, and your fingers kept shaking at the prospect of having to see him face to face soon. You wanted to clear things up, you wanted to apologize to him, speak to him and have things go back to normal, but...

The whispers in your heart were growing stronger day by day. 

Whispers that told you how pretty Oikawa was as a person. Whispers that told you how hard working he was, how dedicated he was to the sport. Whispers that told you that Oikawa was perhaps perfection personified and it wasn’t always that way—he achieved perfection from falling far too many times but failing to stay down, Oikawa was everything anyone could dream of as a protagonist, as a survivor in a zombie apocalypse, as a high achiever, a dream boy, a marvellous and spectacular individual capable of literally anything he set his mind on.

And then there was you. 

Tears filled your eyes as you changed into your indoor shoes; if Oikawa liked you, which he had made so blatantly clear to you weeks ago, then he was wrong. He had to be wrong. You were nothing close to impressive, your mind and body worked like everyone else’s, you were not spectacular, so you had no right to dream of someone who devastatingly brilliant. Oikawa Tooru was your dream celebrity crush, but instead of being thousand miles away and sparkling from the other side of a black mirror, he was sitting next to you every single day and greeting you with a smile that could outshine the sun.

     “(l/n),” 

A voice sounded behind you and your eyes widened when you saw Iwaizumi. You recalled how he had told Oikawa to give up on you, and you wondered again if Iwaizumi saw you the way you were meant to be seen.

     “Back then,” You knew what he was talking about, “He was having a difficult time. We lost to a team that he hates with everything he has, and you practically turned him down—”

     “I didn’t turn him down, I—”

     “Well, do you like him?”

You paused. You were not going to answer that. There was no way you were going to answer that. You were not even going to dream of it inside your head, it was forbidden and it was practically thought-crime. You stood no chance, not even in your fantasies. 

But, Iwaizumi assumed you were not interested.

     “The only way you can help him now is if you stay away from him.”

Your eyes widened at his words, wondering why he hated you so. But, the next second, when you looked into his eyes, Iwaizumi was looking at you with an expression that rivalled Oikawa’s back then—the sad and hurt one. You didn’t know what he was trying to tell you, but you were not going to crumble.

     “Okay.” You said, before putting on the indoor shoes and heading to class.

When class began, Oikawa came a few minutes late. The teacher said nothing, allowed him inside and Oikawa sat beside you wordlessly. Iwaizumi watched as you continued to stare into your notebook, your expression void of practically anything, and Oikawa looked bored. Occasionally, he’d see Oikawa steal glances at you, but you refused to look at anything but your notebook. Iwaizumi wasn’t a stalker, he was just a keen observer, and it was at that second did he notice something that perhaps, pieced everything together in a way that literally broke his heart.

You refused to look at Oikawa.

But, that did not mean you never had.

Ah, Iwaizumi rubbed his palm on his forehead. This is fucking ridiculous, he thought before sighing.

     “Iwaizumi-san, is everything alright?” The teacher’s voice broke him from his reverie and he nodded.

     “Sorry.”

Practice began normally after, but anyone could tell that Oikawa’s heart wasn’t in it. Hajime wondered if Oikawa still thought of you, but it was obvious, you were lodged in Tooru’s mind like a rock, you weren’t leaving anytime soon. Iwaizumi had to admit, you weren’t like the others. He didn’t understand your deal and maybe it was not for him to understand, but you didn’t throw yourself at Tooru for anything other than the fact that Tooru could shine without anything else. 

You didn’t throw yourself at him because you saw what he was capable of beyond the name he had gotten, beyond the track record that he held—you saw Oikawa Tooru for Oikawa Tooru, the lovable idiot with a determination forged from steel. 

Maybe you thought that you weren’t good enough for him, and Iwaizumi wondered why girls thought that way at all. However, if the object in question was Oikawa then the thought perhaps was valid, after all. There were times when Hajime himself felt lesser to the Oikawa Tooru, but he’s been friends with the brown haired setter for ages now. He could picture you being insecure, wanting to reach and grab at Oikawa but afraid that his shine might literally burn you.

It would be a lie if you said you weren’t attracted to Oikawa Tooru. As attractive as he was, he was equally passionate and headstrong, and his lame attempts at flirting may not be all great, but he certainly knew how to make you smile from your heart. But, you were never the sort to aim high because you ended up on the losing end far too many times to even think of the result being positive. You gave up way too fast, which was the exact opposite of who Oikawa was.

Your heart was practically glass; and it was the only thing that was kind to you. But, your mind and everything else in your body hated you—which meant you hated yourself, and this was something you could not leap over.

Oikawa spotted you eating lunch by yourself one afternoon, alone and quietly, and he still cursed at himself for liking you. Perhaps, he was destined to like people he knew he couldn’t have, and you were just the start of a list of people who were inevitably going to break his heart. It was ironic, really—while the world believed someone like Oikawa Tooru could have anyone he would ever want, it was the literal opposite.

You got up after eating, but bumped into a few girls on the way. The tallest girl in that group snapped at you, for which you just nodded, scurrying away timidly. He knew you could be feisty, but what the hell was that?

Didn’t you want to fight back? It’s not a big deal if you bump into someone, and especially when no one got hurt. 

What the hell were you doing, scurrying away like that?

It was an epiphany really, when he caught himself annoyed at you like that. He started thinking about your insecurity—of how he realized that day that you couldn’t even picture someone like Oikawa liking someone like her. It isn’t anyone’s fault if you were insecure, but that is perhaps the first thing Oikawa had to address about you. Everything about you was a glorious combination of everything Oikawa wanted, which he never knew he needed, but that’s what rose-colored glasses tend to do.

When you like someone, you like everything about them, there’s nothing to dislike. 

But, that’s impossible. You can’t not dislike something about someone. This particularly made having a crush so dangerous because you can’t see red flags initially. Not that Oikawa saw a red flag with you, it makes things all the more easier to accept now that the rose colored glasses were off. 

     “Excuse me, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa shot up to follow you, leaving Iwaizumi behind with his lunch.

Don’t care, he thought, swallowing the smile threatening to land on his lips. 

Oikawa didn’t like how much of a pushover you could be at times. This could be because of people having left you in the past, people having misunderstood you, people having broken your heart, trampled all over you, of course, Oikawa had no idea what triggered it, but it was there and it annoyed him. He didn’t like how timid you were with strangers, he didn’t like how you doubted yourself, he didn’t like how your mind treated you—oh, he hated how your mind treated you and if he could get into a fist fight with your mind, he would gladly. 

He didn’t like how you gave up so easily because one of the things Oikawa adored most about you was your heart; it was capable of destroying the world if it wanted to, yet it made you settle for so less. 

And as many things Oikawa found about you that he didn’t like, he could appreciate more the things that he adored you for, and desperately wanted to work with you on having you see yourself the way he saw you.

You felt someone grab the back of your elbow and spin you around, your eyes widened as they land on Oikawa’s determined ones. People around you were gasping now, shocked at Oikawa’s blatant display of... whatever it was. 

     “Come with me.” 

The way he ordered you sent shivers down your spine, goosebumps prickled all over your skin as Oikawa led you to someplace a lot more secluded. Your heart kept rummaging against your chest as you stared at the area in your wrist where Oikawa’s hand was wrapped around, afraid to look anywhere else. What felt like forever later, Oikawa stopped and you stared at his chest, afraid to look into his eyes.

     “I hate that you’re a pushover,” Your eyes narrow at his words, and before you could continue, “I hate that you let people walk all over you, I hate that you don’t fight back, I hate that you so easily accept things not wanting to change them—”

     “Oikawa-san, what are you—”

     “I hate that you give up so easily.”

You dared to look at Oikawa now, his eyes cold and placid, staring into yours. There was no smile on his face, somehow this image of Oikawa was dark and terrifying, but you felt warmer as you looked a him. You felt tears prick your eyes, anger bubble in your chest, and you cussed before pushing him with everything you had. Oikawa stumbled backwards, but he continued to stare.

     “What do you know what I’ve been through?! How dare you assume that I’m this way because I’m a coward—”

     “I didn’t say you were a coward, it’s because I know you’re not that these things drive me crazy!”

You froze.

     “I like you, (y/n)-chan. I like you so much that it’s literally making me insane. At first, I only saw the things I liked about you, I thought you were perfect, and I wanted you beside me because of that. But, now I see that there’s things I don’t like about you, things I want to help you change, if only you’re willing to, because god,” Oikawa clicked his tongue, “I want nothing more than for you to see yourself the way I see you.”

You didn’t know what to say. You felt nauseous, the words in your head starting to sound mean again, but Oikawa’s hands quickly grabbed yours and shoved them on the left side of his chest. Your eyes widened as you felt his heart rummage against his chest. Was this...

Was this your doing?

You looked up to see him, soften his expression at you.

     “I’m sure there are things about me that you don’t like—”

     “Oh, there’s plenty—”

Oikawa chuckles before walking one step closer to you, your hand still in his, against his chest. You were standing so close you could feel his breath on your forehead. The boy was tall. 

     “I wish I could kick your mind’s ass.”

You scoffed at his idiotic words, “I don’t think—”

     “I’ll make you see what I see, (y/n)-chan,” You couldn’t look away from him, “You are single-handedly the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. Inside and out. You don’t see it, and your mind refuses to admit it, but when I’m with you, I feel so idiotic, I’d become my own Iwa-chan.”

You smiled a bit before feeling your heart skip a beat.

     “I like you so much I want to puke.”

You laughed, “That’s a strange way to put it.”

     “Whatever it is that’s hardened your heart, watch me as I soften it.”

You felt Oikawa place a hand on your cheek, to which you leaned into; your mind suddenly quiet, your breath suddenly stolen, your feet suddenly swept.

     “I’m sorry for hurting you, Oikawa-san,” You didn’t understand initially why he was just staring at you with a wicked grin, “I’m sorry for hurting you, T-Tooru-kun?”

Oikawa’s face reddened before he pumped a fist in the air.

     “Don’t apologize.”

Immediately, Oikawa threw his hands around your waist, burying his head on your shoulder, smelling your hair. Your hands wound around his neck, pulling him closer. The whispers in your heart grew louder now, and inch by inch, you felt Tooru conquer it.

     “I like you too...” Your voice was muffled against his shoulder. “I can’t believe this is happening—”

     “I’ll make you believe,” He said, pulling away, your hand still in his. Pressing a soft kiss on your hand, “Because I’m not all that much of a catch, you’re in for a world of suffering.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Your fingers are entwined, neither of you noticing how hard your hearts were beating because of the other.

     “What are the things you don’t like about me?”

You paused before pondering on Oikawa’s question. 

     “I think it’s just one thing.”

Tooru felt his heart break at how you answered—he had literally bad mouthed you before confessing, the guilt was going to eat him alive.

You giggled before saying, “You... You scare me.”

Oikawa leaned toward you before pressing a soft kiss on your temple. Your eyes widened before turning to him, his eyes glancing between your lips and your eyes, dangerously stuck around the middle.

     “Get to know me and you’ll take off your rose colored glasses too.”

Your eyes widened at his words before you felt Oikawa press a firm kiss to your lips, your entwined fingers tightening their grip on Oikawa’s. As your eyes closed, before returning the kiss, you couldn’t help but think,

I can’t wait.

[arianaofimladris]

The beginning of an end

Another @whumptober2020​ story, finning in prompts:

No 7. I’VE GOT YOU Support | Carrying | Enemy to Caretaker

No 13. BREATHE IN BREATHE OUT Delayed Drowning | Chemical Pneumonia | Oxygen Mask

No 23. WHAT’S A WHUMPEE GOTTA DO TO GET SOME SLEEP AROUND HERE? Exhaustion | Narcolepsy | Sleep Deprivation

Fandom: The Silmarillion

As Glaurung destroyes the Gap and the landsare consumed with fire, Maglor seeks refugee in Himring.

The  scene  taking  place  below  was  close  to  the  utter  chaos.  The  sea  of  elves,  horses and  wagons  seemed to  fill  in  every  street around  the  inner  fortress.  They  came  all  mixed,  civilians and  warriors  alike, Maglor’s  and  his  own,  who  had  dwelled away  from  Himring.

Maedhros  watched the  commotion  from  the  height of  the  inner  walls,  but  as  the  refugees,  most  without  horses now,  reached  the  courtyard,  he  ran  down  the  stairs. Every  set  of  hands  seemed to  be  needed, even  a  defective one,  he  thought with  a  hint  of  grim  amusement  as  he  helped one  of  his  soldiers  down  from  his  mount;  his  people  alone  came  with  the  horses. Almost  everyone  carried a  wounded  or  a  child. As  one  of  them  reported to  Maedhros,  those  who  were  not  helping in  the  transportation,  stayed behind  to  protect the  column  of  the  refugees.

Alcarino,  indispensable Alcarino  was  there  from  the  very  beginning, ordering  the  worst  wounded  to  be  taken  to  the  chambers  that  would  be  adapted  for  healing  rooms. Maedhros  left  these  arrangements  for  him  and  the  other  healers,  knowing they  would  know  best  what  they  were  going  to  need.  He  appointed  two  of  his  guards  to  take  the  sleepy,  exhausted children  to  the  refectory  and  get  them  warm.  A  few  women  went  with  them,  while  other,  healthier, remained  and  helped with  the  wounded or  the  stock  that  had  to  be  kept  under  roof.

Maedhros  worked alongside  his  men,  but  every  time  they  helped  a  wounded  from  horse  or  a  wagon  to  be  taken  to  the  healing ward,  he  glanced to  see  if  it  wasn’t Maglor.  In  all  the  commotion he  had  no  means  to  ask  about  him  when  there  was  do  much  to  do.  He  forced back  the  gnawing feeling  of  panic  every  time  he  pushed another  child  towards the  warm  hall  or  answered a  question  of  yet  another confused  refugee.

 Maglor was  the  last  to  come.  They  rode  in,  a  small  group  of  soldiers who  barely  found  space  in  the  already crowded  yard.  Everyone, save  for  a  few  Maedhros’s men,  was  dirty  and  covered with  ash  and  blood,  but  the  eldest son  of  Feanor spotted  the  familiar silhouette  of  his  brother.  He  answered  some  question  without bothering  to  check  who  was  asking  and  rushed  towards Maglor,  who  swayed dangerously  in  his  saddle.  

“Kano!”  Maedhros kept  him  steady before  he  fell.

“We  couldn’t...” Maglor  rasped  and  stopped,  coughing violently.  He  was  shaking  badly, his  good  hand  clenched  on  the  saddle. His  tunic  was  burned,  his  trousers  torn  and  his  cloak  was  all  but  scraps.  Moving them  aside,  Maedhros saw  that  he  was  missing a  sleeve  and  a  bracer.

“I  see,”  he  nodded shortly  and  put  his  arms  around  his  waist.  “I’ve  got  you,”  he  muttered as  Maglor  all  but  fell  into  his  arms  and  went  limp.

***

 Cold.  Wet.  Hurts.

I  fell, Maglor  thought.  I  fell  and  they  left  me  in  the  snow.

Terrified,  he  snapped  his  eyes  open  and  saw  a  ceiling. The  pain  remained, radiating  from  his  burned  arm  and  side,  and  his  cheek  stung   with  barest  flinch, but  the  only  wet  thing  turned  out  to  be  a  poultice on  his  throat, which  he  removed as  soon  as  he  sat  up.

We  managed, he  realised  and  a  wave  of  relief washed  over  him.  He  looked around  and  recognised Maedhros’s  bedroom.  The  sorry  remains of  wood  in  the  fireplace explained  the  chill  in  the  chamber,  but  instead  of  burying  himself deeper  in  the  blankets,  Maglor rose  from  the  bed  to  search  for  some  clothes. His  own  he  located  on  a  pile  in  the  corner,  but  they  were  all  but  useless.  His  shoes  alone  were  still  wearable.  Cold  and  exhausted as  he  was,  he  would  have  sunk  back  in  hope  to  get  warmer, but  his  throat was  dry  and  sore,  and  his  stomach cramped.  He  had  not  eaten  since  their  escape  from  his  ruined stronghold.  The  fumes  of  the  dragon  were  suffocating  and  poisonous,  and  the  smoke  seemed  to  have  burned their  throats,  those  who  had  been  exposed the  longest.  Maglor had  only  managed to  swallow  some  water  on  their  way.  In  all  the  confusion he  found  it  hard  to  count  how  many  days  they  had  been  running away.

Shaking  even  with  a  blanket  tossed over  his  shoulders, Maglor  ventured  unsteadily to  his  brother’s wardrobe.  He  found  clean  trousers and  a  belt,  a  shirt  and  a  thick  jacket. Dressing  up  proved to  be  a  challenge,  but  at  least  someone  had  covered  the  burns  with  bandages,  which  was  a  considerable  improvement. He  hadn’t    had  a  chance to  address  his  wounds  after  the  burning ceiling  beam  had  fallen  on  him  and  almost  trapped him,  so  his  torn  clothes rubbed  against  them  during  the  whole  way  to  Himring.

The  clothes helped  only  a  little  and  Maglor  was  still  shaking. Since  he  could  not  find  any  cloak  and  his  own  was  too  ruined to  use,  he  tossed  a  blanket  over  his  shoulders and  left.  He  intended  to  see  where  his  people were  and  if  they  had  been  provided with  everything,  but  before  he  went  downstairs, a  fit  of  coughing  made  him  double over.  Clutching  his  blanket  and  using  the  nearest  wall  as  support, he  reached  the  great  hall,  but  one  glance  was  enough  to  ensure  him  he  would  not  find  his  warriors there.  The  hall  had  been  adapted  for  a  temporary shelter  for  civilians, mostly  women  and  children.  There  were  cauldrons with  food  on  the  tables and  bedrolls  spread on  the  floor. Maglor  recognised  one  of  the  sleeping  boys,  his  father was  among  his  guards...  Had  been,  he  realised  with  a  pang  of  remorse and  looked  away.  There,  by  the  wall,  one  of  the  Sindar elleths  was  rocking a  noldorin  infant. He  vaguely  remember having  seen  the  child  being  rescued  from  a  broken, empty  wagon.  It  was  a  small  relief to  know  that  the  child  had  survived the  journey.  He  smiled  briefly as  the  elleth looked  up,  then  winced  and  stepped  back  on  the  corridor.

The  kitchens were  close.  Maglor slipped  inside  and  welcomed  the  inviting  heat  with  relief. Elves  were  working tirelessly  by  the  long  table, one  of  its  end  currently occupied  by  a  few  of  Maedhros’s  guards. There  were  cauldrons with  stew  boiling over  the  fire.

“What  do  you  need?” one  of  the  elleths  asked, clearly  not  recognising Maglor  as  she  looked  briefly over  the  bowl  she  was  carrying.  “There’s warm  food  in  the  refectory, I’ve  just  brought it,”  she  suggested. “Or  is  it  the  healers you’re  looking  for?”  

“No,”  whispered Maglor,  unsure  he  could  be  heard  in  the  commotion. He  came  closer to  the  table. “I  can’t-“  he  coughed  and  placed  his  good  hand  on  his  throat.

“Oh,  of  course,”  the  elleth  nodded in  understanding.  “Failien, where  is  that  soup?”  She  called  over  her  shoulder.

“Coming!”  One  of  the  elleths  working by  the  fire  poured  a  huge  mug  with  a  mushed  soup  and  turned around.  “My  lord  Kanafinwe!”  she  exclaimed  and  reached  them  hastily.  “Do  you  need  anything?  Shall  I  send  for  anyone?”

“No,”  Maglor rasped  and  coughed. He  took  the  mug  and  curled  his  cold  fingers around  it.  “Thank you.  Don’t  mind  me,  I’ll  be  gone  soon.”

His  stomach growled,  so  he  took  a  generous  sip  and  regretted it  just  as  quickly,  as  it  was  too  warm  for  his  raw  throat. Putting  the  soup  aside,  he  sank  miserably on  a  free  bench  standing by  the  wall.  It  was  delightfully  warm   and  Maglor  leaned against  it,  tugging the  blanket  closely. He  had  to  wait  for  the  soup  to  cool  down  anyway...

***

The  Gap  was  no  more.  Maglor’s city  was  burned to  the  ground, so  were  the  lands.  The  news  Maedhros had  managed  to  gather  from  Maglor’s  people was  full  of  despair  and  bore  little hope.  The  casualties were  great,  impossible for  now  to  assess.  He  learned  that  his  brother had  sent  messengers to  Curufin  and  Celegorm,  and  south  to  Caranthir  and  Amras,  but  there  was  no  way  of  knowing whether  they  had  reached  their  brothers  in  time  to  warn  them  against  the  upcoming  attack. With  the  dragon roaming  freely  and  destroying  everything on  his  way,  and  with  the  hoards of  orcs  and  other  nasty  creatures  of  Morgoth,  the  chances  were  small.  And  the  sheer  force  and  impact  of  the  attack suggested  the  enemy  was  not  going  to  withdraw  unless stopped.

Maedhros  dearly wished  he  could  gather  his  warriors  and  go  after  the  dragon and  the  orcs  that  dared  destroy  their  hard-earned  peace, but  it  was  impossible  for  now.  The  beast  the  refugees  spoke  of  was  greater  and  stronger  than  the  young  lizard  Fingon had  once  chased away.  Maedhros  knew  too  little to  risk  venturing and  emptying  the  fortress  of  all  the  soldiers.  There  were  too  many  wounded among  Maglor’s  people and  they  needed time  to  heal  before  they  could  aid  Himring’s  crew  and  reinforce the  defences.  

For  now  he  settled for  sending  patrols great  in  number to  check  the  neighbourhood  for  any  possible survivors.  And  though his  hand  itched for  a  sword, Maedhros  decided  to  remain  within his  fortress  rather than  to  join  his  people. There  was  too  much  to  do  to  leave  it  to  Vorindon only.  The  structure of  the  fortress had  to  be  rearranged  to  find  accommodation for  all  the  refugees,  the  weakest  parts  of  the  stronghold  had  to  be  refreshed.  Maedhros needed  a  complex plan,  but  for  now  it  seemed  they  were  only  reacting  to  the  problems at  hand,  finding temporary  solutions  to  wield  the  chaos  just  enough  to  allow  any  actual  planning to  take  place.

With  all  that,  a  sudden  break  took  Maedhros by  surprise.  Silence fell  on  the  walls,  nobody came  with  reports or  questions.  The  courtyard  seemed almost  abandoned,  with  the  wounded transported  already  to  the  healing wards.  Only  the  wagons,  now  almost  empty, stood  witness  to  the  earlier commotion.  Horses  had  been  taken  care  of,  people  had  been  ushered inside.  It  seemed the  whole  fortress was  resting  after  a  busy  night,  but  it  was  just  an  impression.  Inside the  walls,  some  were  indeed resting  and  gathering strength  after  the  desperate  escape, but  others  were  still  working tirelessly  -  healers, cooks  and  warriors alike.  It  seemed though  that  nobody needed  their  commander at  the  moment, so  Maedhros  decided to  use  the  break  while  he  could. Only  now  did  he  realise when  was  the  last  time  he  had  eaten.  Since  the  refectory served  temporarily  as  a  sleeping place  and  there  was  little space  for  anything, let  alone  gathering for  a  meal  like  they  normally  would, Maedhros  headed  directly for  the  kitchens. He  intended  to  grasp  some  food  and  check  on  his  brother. He  had  not  received  any  alarming  news  concerning  his  state,  so  he  assumed Maglor  was  resting and  hoped  they  could  talk  soon.

As  soon  as  he  entered  the  kitchens,  he  spotted  his  brother’s  familiar silhouette.  Maglor  was  sleeping,  crooked, leaning  against  the  chimney,  with  a  cocoon of  a  colourful blanket  around  his  arms.  Maedhros reached  him  quickly and  almost  tripped a  mug  standing dangerously  close  to  the  edge  of  the  bench.

“Kano.”  Leaning, he  placed  his  hand  on  Maglor’s  good  shoulder.  “Makalaure,  wake  up.”

“Mmmm,”  the  singer  muttered incoherently  and  coughed, grasping  the  edges  of  the  blanket  slipped from  his  shoulders.

“What  are  you  doing  here?”  asked  Maedhros  and  brushed  away  tussled  hair  from  his  brother’s  face,  careful  not  to  touch  the  dried  ointment  on  his  cheek. “Kano,  do  you  know  where  you  are?”

“Kitchen,”  Maglor rasped  and  opened his  eyes  reluctantly. “You  killed  the  dragon?”

“What?”  Maedhros shook  his  head  in  surprise. “No,  whatever  gave  you  that  idea?”

“Wake  me  when  you’re done,”  Maglor  closed his  eyes  again  and  curled.

“And  meanwhile you  will  be  sleeping  in  the  kitchen?” Maedhros  arched  an  eyebrow.  “No  way,  there  is  enough space  in  my  rooms  for  both  of  us.”

Maglor  sighed and  looked  up.  “Forgot  how  bloody  cold  it  is  here,”  he  complained  so  quietly  his  brother  could  barely  hear  him.

Cold.  Maedhros cursed  when  he  realised  it  was  the  chill  that  had  chased his  brother  from  his  rooms, as  probably  someone had  forgotten  to  fuel  the  fire.  It  was  hardly surprising  in  all  the  mess  they  were  still  trying to  wield,  but  the  heat  was  highly desirable,  if  the  way  Maglor pressed  his  back  against  the  chimney  was  any  indication.

“Now  that  can  be  fixed,”  Maedhros promised  him.  He  fished  one  of  guards who  had  just  finished  eating and  sent  him  to  have  the  fire  lit  and  the  bed  warmed.  Seeing that  Maglor  was  now  a  bit  more  awake,  he  picked  the  mug  that  was  a  little  beyond his  reach  and  took  a  sip.

“Ugh.  It’s  cold,”  he  made  a  face  and  intended  to  ask  someone to  add  some  hot  soup,  but  Maglor snatched  the  mug  from  his  grasp.

“Good.  Maybe  I  can  swallow  that.”

Maedhros  left  his  brother sipping  the  soup  carefully  and  ventured  for  some  food.  After  so  many  hours  of  keeping vigil  in  the  cold,  he  too  could  feel  the  chill  creeping on  him,  so  he  gladly accepted  a  bowl  of  hot  stew.  He  sat  next  to  Maglor and  having  placed the  bowl  on  his  knees, ate,  glancing  at  his  brother from  time  to  time.

“Any  better?” he  inquired  quietly when  Maglor  put  his  mug  aside  and  curled  again.

“Cold,”  he  whispered.  “Where are  my  men?” Maedhros  let  out  an  exasperated snort.  “Everywhere.  Alcarino is  taking  care  of  the  wounded,  the  civilians  are  being  accommodated. Vorindon  took  those  who  can  join  my  people  in  defenses,”  he  explained  shortly, watching  his  brother with  concern.  After  a  moment in  the  kitchen he  was  already sweaty  in  his  robes,  yet  Maglor  was  still  shaking. His  eyes  were  glassy,  his  breathing  shallow and  Maedhros  didn’t like  the  unhealthy flush  on  his  cheeks.  But  the  most  significant  was  the  fact  that  Maglor didn’t  care  at  all  where  he  had  chosen  to  rest.  “We’ll talk  later,  Kano.  Now  I  think  Alcarino should  take  a  look  at  you.”

Maglor  only  nodded  and  rose  slowly. A  sharp  hiss  escaped  his  lips.  Seeing how  unsteady  he  was  on  his  feet,  Maedhros  put  his  arm  around  his  back,  careful not  to  touch  his  brother’s right  side.  Maglor leaned  on  him  heavily as they walked towards the temporary healing ward.

[gumnut-logic]

Hunted

Aaaargh, still not happy with this one. Maybe it is the topic, maybe its because my brain is semi-useless today thanks to lurgy central. I dunno, but I’m washing my hands of it.

Warnings for mentions of nasties to animals and Virgil!Whump.

@thunderstorm-bay was ever so kind to prompt me (possibly in revenge for the banana ::grins:: She did so much a better job than I did :D ) Thank you for a productive day ::hugs::

-o-o-o-

He could not believe this was still possible.

How was this possible?

He had thought they as a race, as a species of the planet Earth, were beyond this.

His feet crunched in the snow, cold ice fighting with specialised rubber. The only sound on the icy frozen beach was the wind...

...and the calls of seals.

They were fleeing from him in fear. It was justified fear, considering the blood staining the white snow.

A wave shushed against the ice in the distance.

A callout.

A man, fallen through the ice. Fortunately, or unfortunately, he and Gordon had been minutes away, swooping in and deploying Four, scooping the victim out from underneath the ice shelf.

Only to realise exactly what the man was.

A hunter.

The bile in Virgil’s throat had risen to the point that he felt the urge to spit on him.

There was no need to kill animals for anything other than food in the 2060’s. The unwarranted slaughter for fashion sense, set his blood boiling.

Gordon’s reaction had been far more violent.

“Gordon!”

“Virgil, do you realise what this bastard does for a living?!” Gordon’s face was red with fury.

“I do.”

Gordon was speechless for a whole two seconds. “Then what are we going to do about it?”

“Deliver him to a hospital and notify the authorities.”

Gordon looked ready to explode.

Virgil swallowed his bile and put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “He’ll get what’s coming to him.”

“What about the others?”

He caught his brother’s eyes with his own. “They will get what is coming to them.” He thinned his lips.

Perhaps their anger blinded them. Perhaps it had been planned. Virgil didn’t know, but the next thing he did know was cold, so much cold. He swore his face was half frozen. There was blood on the snow.

His blood.

His head hurt so bad.

In his uniform. No helmet. Alone. Snow. Ice. So much ice.

A slow blink.

Get up.

Get up or your face will freeze and you will die.

The wind bit into him as his vision doubled.

He was on a beach. An icy beach. He wavered a moment, before putting one foot in front of the other.

Where was his ‘bird?

The horizon was either white or water. Gordon?

He hit his comms. “Th-thunderbird Five.” Ugh, his voice hurt.

Everything hurt.

“Virgil!”

“What happened?” His eyes closed a moment and he stumbled.

“Virgil!” Huh? “Scott’s on his way. Along with Kayo and the GDF.”

“Scott...” Pull it together. “Gordon?”

“Aboard Two...three kilometres east of you.”

“What?”

“Attempted hijacking. Gordon says they attacked you first and decided to remove you from the equation by throwing you off the ship. Took Gordon a few moments of flight to deploy the gas canisters.” A pause. “Hang tight. Scott will be there soon.”

Soon.

The world doubled again and he fought the urge to fall on his butt.

He didn’t need a frozen butt.

No frozen butt.

Voices travelled on the wind.

His head shot up and spun in response. Shit.

Damn.

A handful of men were trekking over the ice. In the distance, he could just make out a sleek white transport. How had he not heard that land?

His eyes fell on the seals, still attempting to scamper away from him.

The blood on the ice made it very clear that this was not the men’s first visit of the day.

God, no.

Seal whimpers.

There were too many men.

His head hurt.

They were going to murder...

He couldn’t allow that.

Just couldn’t.

Scott please hurry.

God, his head hurt.

The men approached quietly, but the moment he was seen, that quiet was broken. A voice challenged him.

A gun was raised.

Virgil stood between them and the seals.

He held up a hand as if he could stop them simply by holding them back.

He wished the world would stop fading in and out.

“Virgil! What are you doing?” John.

“Stop the slaughter.”

“Those men are armed!”

“I know.”

“Virgil!”

“Can’t let them...”

A rush of wind, a screaming roar...a familiar screaming roar.

Thank god.

Thunderbird One tore into the scenery, his brother’s ‘bird coming to a swooping halt above and behind him, her VTOL vibrating the air around him.

“This is International Rescue. Please stand back for your safety.”

Well, that was a threat without a threat.

It was so good to hear his brother’s voice.

The men backed off, alarmed. The seals, equally alarmed, screamed in fear. Shit.

“Virgil?” His eldest brother’s voice was worried, yet gentle.

“Don’t feel so good.” His hand went to his head as the world wobbled yet again. Thunderbird engines weren’t great for headaches, but right at this moment there was no other sound he could possibly love more.

He didn’t feel the ice on his face as he fell.

-o-o-o-

“Goddamnit, Scott, we have the money, we’ve got to do something about it!”

“Kayo is working with the GDF as we speak.”

“But will it be enough? They kill thousands of seals. And look at what that bastard did to Virgil.”

“I know exactly what they did, Gordon. I was the one who had to pick him off the ice.”

Ice. God, he hated ice. The voices were sharp knives stabbing at the inside of his skull. He groaned.

“Virgil?” Scott’s voice was suddenly softer. Someone touched him.

“Ergh.” Such an intelligent response.

“Hey, bro. Open those eyes. I need to see some brown. The blue is getting monotonous.”

“Gor-don...”

“Ooh, he speaks.”

“C’mon, Virgil, open your eyes so he’ll shut up.”

Well, that was motivation. His eyelids were heavy, but he was strong. Blurry brothers slowly blinked into focus.

“Hey, Virg.” Gordon smiled at him from behind Scott. The annoyingly familiar ceiling of the infirmary above them.

“W-What happened?”

The smile disappeared and was replaced by anger. “Apparently saving a man’s life motivates him to attack his rescuers. The bastard must have heard us talking. Came up behind you and whacked you with one of your own tools. Threatened me by threatening you. Then threw you out the hatch in the module before I could deploy the tranq canisters. You fell quite a distance. If I ever get my hands on that bastard again...”

“You gave him enough bruises, Gordon. Aunt Val is going to have to obfuscate enough already.”

“He deserved it. He could have killed Virgil.” A hand gripped his leg and tightened.

“I’m here, Gordon.” Something flashed in his brother’s eyes, something cold and violent, and Virgil was suddenly reminded of the WASP professional under that goofy facade. “I’m okay.”

“You have a skull fracture, Virgil. You’re lucky you didn’t break anything else.” A swallow. “You’re lucky to be alive.”

“But I am alive.”

“Still want to roast him with Two’s thrusters.”

Virgil wanted to reach out to him, but his body was a leaden mess. Scott beat him to it, a hand landing on Gordon’s arm “He will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Attempted murder is on that list.” A grim smile. “You know the world’s reaction when we are threatened.”

Virgil blinked slowly. It was a little heartening that the world stood up in their defence if anyone raised a hand against them. The inevitable then came to mind. There would be court, and the press...he groaned.

“Virgil?” Scott was frowning in worry.

“Press and court. Sucks.”

“Yeah, well, at least this time it will do some extra good. Put an end to the seal hunting, if we play it right.”

Another slow blink. Seals. “Did we protect the seals?”

Blue eyes smiled at him, a hand landing on his shoulder. “Yes, Virgil, you protected the seals. The GDF arrived shortly after you collapsed.”

“I collapsed?” His memory hurt with the rest of his head.”

“You did. You need rest.”

“You wanted me to wake up.”

Another smile. “Well, now we know you are all there, you can go back to sleep.”

Sleep. Sounded wonderful.

Fingers touched his forehead, combing through his hair just gently.

He let out a sigh.

Sleep.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[talkereritome]

If you are still writing 1-"I'm just trying to help." "Well, I hate to break it to you,but you just made it worse." with Ereri please.

Hello, anon! Thank you for the ask and yes, I am still writing, feel free to send a prompt whenever you want :)

Eren wasn’t late, he wasperfectly on time for his first day of college. He wasn’t going to be that guythat entered the classroom while the professor was already explaining and hadto awkwardly sit in the first row because there were no empty seats in the back,where he could have pretended he didn’t exist.

He quickly glanced at thewatch on his wrist.

“Shit.”

He was definitely late.

He started to run, holding theportable coffee cup in his hand above his head and doing his best to avoid themass of people populating the busy city centre. He cursed every single slowwalker on his way and almost got ran over by a car when he tried to avoid acouple making out in the middle of the sidewalk.

Ever since he had woken up,the world had been against him. First, his alarm clock didn’t go off andabsolutely not because he had forgotten to set it when he had gone to sleep at2 a.m. Then, the coffee shop he usually went to had been packed, meaning he hadto wait for over twenty minutes to get his coffee refill. Again, definitely nothis fault for going there during rush hour.

Who was he kidding? It wasabsolutely his fault, but in his defence he had been too nervous to go to bedat a humane hour and he needed coffee if he wanted to survive the day.

He glanced at his watch again.He had a total of two minutes before being officially late. He sprinted andtook a sharp right turn, remembering the shortcut his friend had shown him.Since his arm was starting to hurt and there weren’t going to be a lot ofpeople in that secluded street anyway, he lowered his coffee cup, bringing it infront of him, but as he was turning, he bumped into someone. The coffee cupinevitably opened and the liquid landed on a white shirt.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” Erensaid.

Despite the fear of beinglate, his mind quickly realised that the coffee had been boiling hot and thatwhoever he had just hit was most likely going to burn themselves, so Erenpromptly took the water bottle from his backpack and poured it on the whiteshirt, but his hand was immediately slapped away.

“What the fuck are you doing?”a voice said.

Eren finally looked up and wasmet by an angry pair of grey eyes that matched the furrowed brow on top ofthem. He stared at the guy in front of him for a moment. He was pretty young,definitely not older than thirty and his slick black hair was style in whatseemed to be an undercut.

Oh shit, the guy was hot.

“I’m just trying to help,”Eren eventually said.

“Well, I hate to break itto you, but you just made it worse.”

The coffee stain had widenedand the white shirt had become see-through, exposing part of the man’s toned chest.Eren swallowed at the sight, almost forgetting the harshness of the man’swords, but then the dread of being late crept up on him again.

“I didn’t want you to getburned,” he said, gathering up his stuff. “And I already said I was sorry,okay?”

“Your excuses won’t fix themess on my shirt,” the man retorted, evidently irritated.

Even if the guy was absolutelyEren’s type, Eren was starting to lose his patience at his rudeness and theclock told him he was already five minutes late to his lecture.

“Listen, if you want me to payfor a new shirt or something like that just tell me,” he said. “I’m runninglate, and I really have to go now.”

“Like I care if you’re late,”the man glared at him. “I have somewhere to be as well and now I have to goback home and change because some shitty brat didn’t look where he was going.”

Eren pinched the bridge of hisnose, gathering up the last drops of his self-control.

“Since you have places to be,I won’t keep you any longer,” he said with a fake smile. “Have a nice day.”

Asshole.

He didn’t wait for the man toreply and quickly went his way, waiting to turn another corner before startingto run. There was no way in hell he was going to be on time, but maybe he couldget away with just a few minutes of delay.

He didn’t have to worry aboutmaking a fool of himself in front of everyone as when he entered the classroom,the professor was nowhere to be seen. He sighed in relief and walked towardsthe back of the room where his friend were already waiting for him.

“Where were you, Eren?” ablond guy said. “You know professor Ackerman hates when people are late.”

“I know, Armin, but this timeit really wasn’t my fault.”

As they waited for theprofessor to arrive, Eren told his friend about his fateful morning,complaining about the rudeness of a certain someone, and then went ondiscussing their plans for the weekend. They had been chatting for over tenminutes, wondering if the lecture had maybe been suspended when the main dooropened again.

Eren stared at the manentering the classroom with wide eyes and lips slightly parted in disbelief. Itwas the same person he had almost insulted, except he was now wearing adifferent shirt and a much deeper frown. He couldn’t take his eyes away fromhim while his stomach turned into a knot and cold sweat covered his forehead.

“I apologise for the delay,but some annoying brat spilled coffee on my shirt and I had to go back home andchange,” the professor explained as he placed his suitcase on the desk.

Eren was royally screwed.

[childofthemoon86]

It’s that time of year again, so here’s my gift to you @ifindus for @weekofhetalia‘s secret Santa exchange! Something kinda historical and completely FrUk.

I was originally going to give this, but tumblr is dumb and I didn’t want a gift to risk be flagged for no reason, so I wrote this instead.

Reaching You

Summary: One late night France welcomes England into his home, but not all is well. As Arthur's temper flares, Francis thinks back on a promise past, and a tunnel built.

Or

Two old farts complain about politics (sort of), drink tea (kinda) and confess feelings (maybe).

X

Cross posted on FF.net and AO3

December 23rd 2018

He arrives at exactly 11:48pm. The sound of knocking in pointed ignorance of France's doorbell tells the nation exactly who is at his door before he even has it open.

Smiling, France reties his robe as he stands and slowly meanders over to the front door. He purposely takes his time, grin only growing as the knocking becomes louder with three sharp thumps.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

France suddenly pulls the door open, fast enough to catch his guest off guard, fist still raised for another hard hit upon the solid wood of the door.

"Bonjour l'Angleterre."

England frowns, hand dropping and eyes narrowing at France. A look Francis knows to mean 'you did that on purpose' and responds with his own smug grin.

Arthur huffs and all but throws his travel-sized suitcase at France, causing the man to stumble back as he fumbles to keep a hold of the load suddenly thrust upon him.

"Always a pleasure to see you too Frog." He doesn't wait for an invitation, marching straight on in the second France is out of the doorway.

Francis blinks at the tone, head turning to follow the grumpy man now stomping into his kitchen. He drops the case by the door and follows, silently studying his guest.

If England notices his staring, he doesn't comment on it. Instead Arthur appears fully set on raiding France's tea supplies, cups and tins clanking with more force than necessary. He practically attacks the taps, water spraying off the side of the kettle as he thrusts it under the flow.

Leaning against the doorway, France's eyes narrow as he watches the furious display, taking in the tense hunch of the blond's shoulders, the deep scowl marring his features, the harsh movements of his hands, and the nearly inaudible grumbling that rises and falls like rough waves through the silence of the house.

"How was the train?" He dares to ask.

"Fine." Arthur snaps back.

Francis's concern only grows at the short response. Slowly, France ventures over and turns off the tap. Then carefully, as if he half expects to be attacked as well, he takes the too full kettle from England, pouring out the excess water before setting it back in its place to boil, and turns to Arthur. The man stands rigid, head bowed and hands griping the counter so hard his knuckles are white.

France knows that look well, knows the danger in it, knows the fury barely contained by it, knows the risk in approaching it. He's been on the receiving end of it more time than he cares to count. Heard the spiteful words that spill forth from it, seen the fire burn everything it touches, felt the force of blows that come from it.

And yet…

"What's wrong? Tell me." He invites it.

"What's wrong? What's wrong?! Take your goddamn pick! The shit-show that is my government, Brexit, my boss? What's wrong you ask? What's wrong? Fucking everything!"

France thinks he can see it, the fire. He can feel the heat of it against his skin, watches as it burn through the man before him, scorching his words and threatening to consume him entirely.

And yet…

"It's not all bad." He smiles, something soft and open. No tricks, no teasing, just them, here and now. "You've still got me."

His words come like a downpour, dampening the raging fire. Not completely, but enough. Enough to breathe, enough to cool the heat, enough to see through the flames.

"You?" He sounds incredulous. "What good are you? You can't change my shitty government, can't control my boss, can't convince the rest of the EU. You're with them," He spits the word, fire regaining control as he grows in volume, "so no, I don't 'still have you'!" The sharp rise in his voice can't hide the break in it.

Green eyes stare, wide and flickering with something more that fire. And France knows this too. It took him years, centuries to see it. Far longer than either of them should have waited to look, to see beyond the barriers that govern them, a truth they both knew but were to afraid to pursue.

The words ring in the silence as loud as church bells. I don't still have you! France knows the danger, knows the fire.

And yet…

He also knows the fear behind it, knows the pain within every word. He sees the fire made to protect burn him far more than those around him, sees the heat suffocating him as it pushes everyone away.

And in those eyes, so wide and so afraid, he sees a little boy, scruffy and scared, holding his sleeve, a silent plea of eons ago echoing across time to him now.

"You do." His words are soft, gentle, but with the strength of a thousand burning stars. He is not the only one that can burn. "You'll always have me, March won't change that."

Green eyes watch him, words silent but doubt still swirls within.

"Remember the promise we made? In the darkness of the tunnel?"

Eyes drop and the forgotten kettle whistles so loud the next words are almost swallowed by it. Almost.

"I remember."

Francis grabs the kettle with one hand, the other lifting Arthur's chin until he meets his gaze once more, and he smiles. "Tea?"

X

"Has it really been twenty years?" England sighs over his tea.

"How time flies." France jokes.

Silence stretches between them for a time. Not like before, but comfortable. Pleasant. Their fires extinguished, peace reigns throughout the house. Then, "How can you be so sure?"

The question is quiet, almost a whisper, but Francis hears it loud and clear.

"Because." He smiles, a look conveying all his heart for his next words, "I love you."

The confession is met with a chocking cough and tea splashing as Arthur splitters into his cup.

"You what?!" England gasps.

Francis doesn't shy away or back down. "I love you."

It's like watching old film skipping as France can see the range of emotions and thoughts running through Arthur's mind playing out on his face, jumping around and spinning in the chaos of Francis's words.

It's here, a little after midnight on a chill day in December, drinking tea in his kitchen, that he says it.

"I love you, Arthur." He says it again, feeling how the words dance across his tongue.

He had been thinking for a while on the best way to finally tell England, finally admit to what they both know but have been skirting around for far too long. He had thought up a dozen different scenarios, in increasingly more lavish setups.

But this, he thinks, is perfect.

Arthur's face is bright red, hands clutching his cup to the table to stop them from shaking. And if there was ever any doubt in France before, he's certain now.

"I love you."

"Stop saying that!" Arthur cries.

"Why?"

"Because it's ridiculous!"

"Maybe. But it's true. Angleterre, Arthur. I. Love. You."

There's defence in those green eyes. Walls built up over centuries to keep the word out. France shook those walls to their foundation twenty years ago, and now, Francis is doing it all again. He recalls the promise made a generation ago. Remembers the day clearly…

X

May 12th 1988

"Are you mad?" England quirks an impressive brow at France across the desk.

"Non, quite the opposite actually. Just think about it."

"You want me to compromise my territorial defences by building a tunnel under the channel to mainland Europe?" The 'you' is left unsaid, but heard all the same. "Yes," England drawls, voice dripping with sarcasm, "why didn't I think of that, I can't see anything wrong with that. What a marvellous idea. Truly inspired."

France tries very hard not roll his eyes at the predictable refusal, after all, it's not the first time Arthur has turned the idea down. He's been trying on and off since the 1800's to convince the man to bridge the gap between them, for commerce, for politics, hell, even once or twice as a damn power play. Never though, for reasons he is reluctant to admit exist beyond such.

But England is an island nation. And a stubborn man.

"No." His voice resonates firmly within the small office.

Slumping back in his seat, Francis sighs.

"Come now Arthur, the world is changing faster everyday. Do you really want to be left behind?" It's a dig at his pride, at his very existence, and England rises to the bait.

"I have gotten on just fine without a land connection to the rest of you lot for centuries. I see no reason why that should change now."

France frowns, shifting tactics.

"I'm not asking you to connect to the whole of Europe, not if you don't want to. But don't you want actually do something with our improved relations? After all, the Entente Cordiale still stands…" He trails off at the end, the previous vigour of his words dying in his throat.

He must be careful, they've drifted into waters dangerously close to matters best left unsaid. They're both silent for what feels like an age, the unspoken meaning of the words ringing in their ears is almost deafening.

Trust me.

With a deep breath, England nods. It's small and short, and Francis thinks he might have imagined it until the man speaks, breaking the tenuous silence.

"Okay."

"Huh?" France blinks, completely surprised by the sudden agreement. Truth be told he was prepared to fight much hard to try to convince Arthur than this.

"You're right, the world is changing. And we can only survive if we learn to change with it." The grin he gives France can't quite be called a smirk, it's far too pained to be such. But it's message is clear to Francis all the same.

Months later, construction of the tunnel began on his side, then in December, England joined in.

A week later, France receives a drunken phone call from England. The words a garbled mess of nonsense conveying only one thing: fear.

X

That was the day they agreed begin a venture that would change everything between them, France just didn't know how exactly until years later.

X

December 1st 1990

France finds himself in the cold darkness of a tunnel not yet complete, dressed in rugged boots, a fluorescent vest and a hard hat. He stands here, off to the side of a crew buzzing with excitement, filled with nothing but nervousness for reasons that are beyond him.

For the past few months he's been like this, filled with a sense of foreboding that he can't quite place nor shake no matter how hard he tries. And he's not the only one.

He knows, standing on the other side of the rock wall before him is another crew of equal excitement, and a man even more nervous than him. While France had only recently started to feel this nervous energy, he could tell something has been off with England for the past year or so, and it's only gotten worse with time.

He had asked what is causing it, when the twitch in his hands and the restlessness of his mind had grown to become too loud to ignore, he went to the one person that might have an answer; China.

The elder nation had taken one look at him and smirked. That look of knowing something he sees as obvious, and lording the secret over others.

"You find out soon enough." Yao had drawled, then left the room, matter closed as far as the he was concerned.

It took awhile, but Francis eventually figured it out. Connected every beat of his racing heart and twitching fingers to the milestones of the tunnel growing ever closer to meeting the English side. Arthur must have figured it out, France thinks, of course he did. He knew from that first week, knew it in a way only an island could.

So here he stands, watching, hardly able to stand still as the chip chip chip of rock being broken away echoes down the tunnel.

Chip, chip, chip, clunk.

His breath leaves him in a rush. Around him voices, both French and English, cheer at the success, but France is deaf to the sound. His heart thumps loudly as something within him shifts, almost imperceptibly. A connection made, a bridge built, an island no longer.

There are cameras and there are handshakes, then the clink clink clink returns louder as the tiny hole is widened. And widened. And widened.

Bodies move and voices speak, but all France can see, can think of, is the green eyed man staring back at him through the opening, the connection.

The world continues to spin around them, but they might as well be alone down here for all they notice. And in this moment, this piece of time cut out just for them, words spill from Francis's lips without his input.

"You're not alone any more."

And it seems the same can be said for Arthur, as he stares, a look akin to a rabbit that's just been saved from the wolves filling his eyes.

"Not just an island now." His voice is a whisper of shock and realisation all in one.

France smiles, something about this- this sense of nationhood he never knew they possessed makes him giddy. He reaches out, hand's hovering for a moment before finding their place on England's shoulders. What sea once separated now stands connected between them.

He feels he should do something, say something to cement this moment between them in time itself.

"You're not alone." He repeats, "as long as we have this, you'll have me."

There's something delicate and hopeful in those green eyes that makes France's heart soar.

He's not nervous anymore.

X

May 6th 1994

France stands to the side of the presidential delegation, watching as England walks past with his Royal party, there's something guarded in those green eyes that makes Francis itch to pull down.

Today the tunnel is officially opened, yet for all the celebrations, France can't help but to notice Arthur is anything but happy about it. Spiralling costs and public displeasure'll do that to you.

But six years of joint work has finally come to an end, and France thinks that that should be as good a cause as any to celebrate. Expect no matter how many times he tries to throw a wink England's way, or catch his arm to have a few friendly words, the man shrugs him off at every turn.

They follow their delegates around for the day, at the beck and call of their bosses, but mostly there for show. France listens to the speech's, a few words here or there catch his attention, but mostly his eyes are on the back of a scruffy blond head. It's not until England's Queen says something that gets both their attentions that they meet eye to eye across the room.

"The French and British peoples, for all their individual diversity and ages-long rivalry, complement each other well—" she pauses, casting a subtle look to Arthur that Francis almost misses, "better perhaps than we realise."

The fact that her words are spoken in French only seems to add to her point, and a message Francis can't decipher is directed at the green eyed nation. Arthur must understand it though, as he ducks his head and his Queen smiles, clearly pleased with the result.

Maybe, Francis considers, she's right.

He chooses not to dwell on it further. The rest of the night passes in wine filled celebration, but not before he catches a part of his own boss's words, "-when Britain and France work together they achieve great things."

Great thing indeed.

X

December 24th 2018

It was through that very tunnel Arthur came to him today, the man's odd fear of flying making it the quickest route between them. Three hours and twenty minutes from house to house to be exact. They've danced around each other long enough Francis thinks. He thinks of all the times in the past he's dodged the issue, turning to jokes and pokes at each other instead. Of all the times he could have said it, of all the times he turned away, thinking nothing more of the flutter in his belly or the race of his heart.

Age old friends spending a rare Christmas off together was how this night started. Now it's up to Arthur how it ends. Will he build back up his wall, plug up the holes and block out the world once more, or take a chance and and leave the bricks loose, spaces wide enough for Francis to slip in…

The man stares down into his cold tea as if it hold all the answers he seeks. Maybe it does, Francis thinks, Arthur has always been one for magic, and divination is one of his party tricks. Drunk party tricks, but tricks all the same.

Finally he looks up and Francis holds his breath. That same delicate and hopeful look of years past echoing in his green eyes.

"One hundred and twenty years." He says distantly.

"Eh?"

"I remember one of the engineers saying that the lining of the tunnel is designed to last for one hundred and twenty years." He smiles, softly at first then growing bolder as he talks, "It's been twenty and the world hasn't ended. What's another century between nations?"

Francis grins, bright and happy. Because he knows England. He knows Arthur. And this is Arthur, this is his way.

His I love you too.

X

Author's notes: And then England got up and made some more tea…

This was fun, I'm bad at romance but that won't stop me writing it! Anyway Findus I hope you like this short fic just for you :)

Headcanon time: I think nations would be aware of when new land connects are made to other nations, and England, as an island nation would be more acutely aware of the closing connection and it kinda scares him. Not that he'll admit it, at least not sober anyway. After all, England was historically very against any sort of land bridge to mainland Europe believing it to be a security risk. Something along the lines of 'the sea is out ultimate defence, why would we risk compromising that?' not to mention they just didn't want to work with the French on it. But yeah, I think the tunnel, as relatively small as it is compared to the nations, would have been an important turning point in the FrUk relationship.

Historical notes: those are direct quotes from the Queen and the French President at the time. (The Queen totally ships them) The tunnel ended up going over budget by 80% and people were not happyTM. The tunnel is built to last 120 years and today you can get from London to Paris in a little over 2 hours or so. Also they didn't quite meet in the middle, England tunnelled further than France. America has also considered it one of the seven modern world wonders. And one of the first proposed tunnels from the 1800's included a rest point to change horses and a air port on a sand bar in the middle.

[fanficshiddles]

The last one blooming, Chapter 12

Rose had not long turned 13 when Odin and Frigga had something they had to tell Loki and Rose. Something they knew that neither of them were going to like.

‘What’s the matter?’ Loki asked as he went to see Odin and Frigga after being summoned there with Thor.

‘It is time for you both to do your duties as Prince of Asgard. It’s time for you to travel to the realms we are at peace with and take care of any business that is needing attended to.’ Odin said, carefully watching their reactions.

Thor beamed with happiness. He enjoyed going to the other realms. Loki, on the other hand, was not so happy.

‘But what about Rose? I can’t leave her. I’m not even Prince by blood.’ Loki said, slightly panicked.

‘You are Prince of Asgard, Loki. You always will be. We’ve been over this. I’m sorry, I know it will be difficult for you and Rose. But it needs to be done. Your mother and I survived time apart. If there was any other way, I would do it. But this is important for the realm.’ Odin said, his voice full of sorrow.

‘When do we have to leave?’ Loki asked sadly.

‘In two days’ time.’

‘Very well.’ Loki said as he looked down, trying to keep his emotions in check on front of his family.

He felt his heart tugging at the thought of leaving Rose though. Even though he knew deep down he had to.

‘While you are away, it will give Rose a chance to learn her duties as Princess. When you return, she will be of age or near of age. Which means you will get married not long after your return. I will make sure she is safe and cared for. I promise, Loki.’ Frigga said softly to her son as she gave him a hug.

Loki wasn’t sure how he was going to break the news to Rose. He knew she would be upset and he hated to see her sad.

When he went to her chambers he found her reading.

‘Hey, little one.’

She looked up and smiled when she saw him.

‘Hi, Loki! Can we go riding?’ She asked as she closed her book and jumped up to her feet.

‘Of course. But first I need to speak to you about something.’ Loki took her hand and they sat down on the bed.

‘What is it?’ Rose asked, worried.

‘As Prince, it is part of my duty to travel to Vanaheim and Midgard to see the people. We are at peace with those two realms. But in return I have to go with Thor to show face and help with any problems the realm may have.’

‘So, you’re going to Midgard?’

‘Yes. And Vanaheim.’ Loki nodded.

‘But it’s just for a few days… Right?’ Rose smiled.

Loki sighed as she shook his head. He took her hands into his.

‘I’m afraid not, little one. I will be gone for quite a long time.’ Loki said sadly.

‘A few weeks?’ Rose asked, frowning.

‘A few years.’

Rose’s eyes widened and her eyes started to water.

‘Don’t cry, sweetheart. Come here.’ He pulled her into a hug and cradled her head against him. ‘You will be so busy with school, and mother said she will start your Princess lessons soon as well. I will be back before you know it.’ Loki said softly.

‘Maybe a few years isn’t long for you. But it is for me. I’m still just a human.’ Rose cried.

‘Hey. Don’t speak about yourself like that. You know when you’re 25 you are getting immortality. And there’s nothing wrong being a Midgardian. I know it seems a long time, little one. But I will write to you every single week. The time will fly by… But I will miss you so much.’ Loki kissed the top of her head.

Loki and Rose went for a ride on their horses. Then the following day they spent most of the day out in the mountains with a picnic. Which was their favorite thing to do.

When they got back to the stables, Loki looked to Rose and handed her Gljásvartur’s reins.

‘I want you to look after Gljásvartur for me while I am away. Take him out for rides to keep him fit. Will you do that for me?’ He asked as he stroked the stallion’s neck.

‘I will. I promise.’ Rose said as she nodded enthusiastically.

‘That’s my girl.’ Loki smiled and ruffled her hair, making her laugh.

When Loki and Thor had to leave, Rose was really sad. But she tried to stay strong for Loki. She didn’t want to upset him too.

She went with Odin and Frigga to see them off at the Bifrost. Loki gave her a big hug and kissed her forehead. Promising her again that he would write to her every week.

As soon as Loki and Thor disappeared, Rose started to cry. Frigga hugged her tightly and reassured her that it was going to be ok.

Over the days, Rose rode Gljásvartur out each day. She either led Eir with them too or rode twice a day. She felt a comfort when she was with Gljásvartur, closer to Loki.

Freya spent lots of time with her, to keep her occupied too.

Even though Rose really missed Loki, she was ok and knew he would be back in a few years. It wasn’t going to be forever.

As promised, Loki wrote to her every week and she wrote back to him. She enjoyed hearing about his and Thor’s adventures on Vanaheim and Midgard. She told him about her lessons at school and how the horses were doing. She told him how she went to see the wolf family up in the mountains with Gljásvartur one day.

Loki smiled as he read another letter from Rose. She was 15 now.

He missed her more and more every day. He couldn’t wait to return to Asgard to see her.

‘She will be of age when we return.’ Thor said as he saw his brother with another letter.

‘I know. It will be weird.’ Loki smiled as he tucked the letter away into his pocket.

‘Has mother said when the wedding will be yet?’ Thor asked.

‘I’m not sure. She says perhaps when she turns 17.’

‘Are you going to wait until then?’ Thor asked, and Loki knew exactly what he meant.

‘I am not even thinking about that quite yet. She is still a child for another year.’ Loki grumbled.

‘Alright, alright.’ Thor chuckled and put his hands up in defence.

‘Let’s go find these omegas.’ Loki grumbled as he moved towards the door.

They were trying to help the omegas that had been abandoned as children, like Rose was. They managed to track down one of the homes where they went to. It was just a matter of finding them and getting them to safety.

Odin had organised with some people of Midgard to set up safe houses for the omega children. Where it was Betas that looked after them. So that’s where Loki and Thor were going to take the children to.

The Alphas had heard that they were coming, so they tried to hide the omegas in the basement, claiming there wasn’t any in the house. But Loki could smell the fear from the omegas, so it was easy for him to find a group of 7 of them, huddled together in the basement looking absolutely terrified.

It took a while for them to trust him and Thor, but they eventually managed to get them out and to the safe house. The Betas did their best to make sure they were comfortable and safe.

One of the omegas looked similar to Rose. The same kind eyes and similar features on her face. It made his heart hurt as he thought about his Rose back home on Asgard.

It was a few months later, word about Loki and Thor being on Midgard had quickly gotten around the place. They had lots of Midgardians come to them for help or guidance. Some just wanted to see them in person. It wasn’t often two gods visited the mortal realm after all.

But it was when a couple went to see them, that Loki felt his blood boil.

‘What can we help you with?’ Thor asked the couple.

‘We have been trying for a baby for a long time. For an Alpha. But we seem to be unlucky in this aspect. Is there anything you can help us with, to achieve our goal?’ The Alpha woman asked.

‘Well, unfortunately there isn’t really anything that even we can do for fertility. Have you had any children?’ Thor asked.

‘No.’ The woman said with a straight face.

‘Lies.’ Loki hissed.

The two looked at Loki, startled. Thor looked at Loki with confusion too.

Loki stood up and started to stalk towards the couple. As he got closer he could tell by their smell that his suspicions were correct. His eyes narrowed in on them and his nostrils flared angrily as he let out a growl.

‘Excuse me?’ The woman gasped as she tried to stand her ground and square up to the Asgardian Prince.

‘I am the god of lies. I know when one is lying. And YOU are just stinking of lies. You have indeed had a child before. Maybe even more than one.’

The woman looked slightly startled that he knew.

‘What?’ She asked. The man just stayed silent by his Alphas side.

‘You had a baby girl. But she was an omega. You think omegas are worthless to have as children. So you beat her up and abandoned her. Left her to rot on her own.’ Loki snapped and lunged towards her, but Thor grabbed Loki in time and managed to hold him back.

‘How the fuck do you know?’ The Alpha woman spat at Loki.

‘Don’t. Brother.’ Thor hissed to Loki, as he clicked on to who the couple was.

‘Because I can see right through you. You people disgust me.’ Loki shouted.

The woman and man just glared at Loki as they quickly backed away to leave. The woman couldn’t believe that Loki knew the truth.

Loki snapped his arm back from Thor’s grip. ‘It’s fine.’ He snapped at him.

‘If they find out that you are Rose’s mate, they may try and pull something. It’s best that they don’t know. Remember what father said, if they found out she was on another realm, they could claim for kidnapping.’ Thor whispered to Loki.

‘I know, brother. I am not stupid.’ Loki said sharply.

Although he was angry, he knew that Thor was just looking out for him. He was rather glad that Thor had stopped him from attacking the woman. It wouldn’t look good if the Prince of Asgard had killed a mortal… Not in public anyway.

That night, he waited until Thor was sound asleep. It would take an earthquake to wake Thor up. So Loki took that opportunity to sneak away.

He sought out where the man and woman lived and entered their home with ease. Using his Seidr, he stayed hidden as he went upstairs and found the couple in bed. Sound asleep.

His anger was raging. This was the Alpha that had beaten and abused his darling little Rose. The thought had him shaking with so much anger.

He took out his dagger and allowed his Seidr to drop as he put a sleeping spell over the omega male. He pressed the blade against the Alpha’s neck. She woke up suddenly but froze when she felt the sharp edge of the dagger against her neck.

‘Make a sound, or try anything and I will kill you.’ Loki snarled quietly.

The woman looked up at Loki with wide eyes. The smell of her fear was evident in the air and it made the adrenaline rush through Loki’s veins.

‘What do you want?’ She asked quietly.

‘You are Rose’s mother. Though I say mother lightly, as you are a despicable excuse of one. Tell me, how many more children have you had and abandoned?’ Loki asked, his teeth gritted as he tried to remain as calm as possible.

‘She was the only one.’ The woman said honestly. ‘How do you know?’

‘I am her Alpha.’ Loki growled, teeth bared.

The woman’s eyes widened in shock and wonder. She couldn’t believe it. Her daughter was the omega of a Prince. All of the possibilities rushed through her mind, but that didn’t go unnoticed by Loki.

‘You are never going to see her again. So don’t even think about getting any ideas. She deserves the world. And that’s what she is going to get. She is going to be Princess of Asgard, right by my side. While you are going to rot in hell.’ Loki said angrily as he pressed the blade against her neck, just about to pierce the skin.

‘Wait! Please… We have been looking for her. We were worried. She ran away, we didn’t chuck her out.’ The Alpha tried to reason.

But Loki just laughed and shook his head.

‘Even my brother wouldn’t believe you. And he is not the brightest of sparks. If that were true, you would have come to us asking for help to find her. No… People like you do not deserve to live.’

Thor woke up the following morning to find Loki already awake. He was cleaning one of his daggers.

‘What are you doing, brother?’ Thor asked.

Loki smirked as he responded. ‘Just cleaning my daggers. You never know when one may need them.’

[imagine-loki]

The last one blooming, Chapter 12

TITLE: The last one blooming

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 12

AUTHOR: fanficshiddles

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine that there is an omegaverse where Alphas and omegas can only bond with their true mate. Loki is an Alpha and he one day meets his omega. But she is a young Midgardian child, who is terrified of Alphas. So he has to work hard to gain her trust, to allow the bond to grow between the two.

RATING: M

Rose had not long turned 13 when Odin and Frigga had something they had to tell Loki and Rose. Something they knew that neither of them were going to like.

‘What’s the matter?’ Loki asked as he went to see Odin and Frigga after being summoned there with Thor.

‘It is time for you both to do your duties as Prince of Asgard. It’s time for you to travel to the realms we are at peace with and take care of any business that is needing attended to.’ Odin said, carefully watching their reactions.

Thor beamed with happiness. He enjoyed going to the other realms. Loki, on the other hand, was not so happy.

‘But what about Rose? I can’t leave her. I’m not even Prince by blood.’ Loki said, slightly panicked.

‘You are Prince of Asgard, Loki. You always will be. We’ve been over this. I’m sorry, I know it will be difficult for you and Rose. But it needs to be done. Your mother and I survived time apart. If there was any other way, I would do it. But this is important for the realm.’ Odin said, his voice full of sorrow.

‘When do we have to leave?’ Loki asked sadly.

‘In two days’ time.’

‘Very well.’ Loki said as he looked down, trying to keep his emotions in check on front of his family.

He felt his heart tugging at the thought of leaving Rose though. Even though he knew deep down he had to.

‘While you are away, it will give Rose a chance to learn her duties as Princess. When you return, she will be of age or near of age. Which means you will get married not long after your return. I will make sure she is safe and cared for. I promise, Loki.’ Frigga said softly to her son as she gave him a hug.

Loki wasn’t sure how he was going to break the news to Rose. He knew she would be upset and he hated to see her sad.

When he went to her chambers he found her reading.

‘Hey, little one.’

She looked up and smiled when she saw him.

‘Hi, Loki! Can we go riding?’ She asked as she closed her book and jumped up to her feet.

‘Of course. But first I need to speak to you about something.’ Loki took her hand and they sat down on the bed.

‘What is it?’ Rose asked, worried.

‘As Prince, it is part of my duty to travel to Vanaheim and Midgard to see the people. We are at peace with those two realms. But in return I have to go with Thor to show face and help with any problems the realm may have.’

‘So, you’re going to Midgard?’

‘Yes. And Vanaheim.’ Loki nodded.

‘But it’s just for a few days… Right?’ Rose smiled.

Loki sighed as she shook his head. He took her hands into his.

‘I’m afraid not, little one. I will be gone for quite a long time.’ Loki said sadly.

‘A few weeks?’ Rose asked, frowning.

‘A few years.’

Rose’s eyes widened and her eyes started to water.

‘Don’t cry, sweetheart. Come here.’ He pulled her into a hug and cradled her head against him. ‘You will be so busy with school, and mother said she will start your Princess lessons soon as well. I will be back before you know it.’ Loki said softly.

‘Maybe a few years isn’t long for you. But it is for me. I’m still just a human.’ Rose cried.

‘Hey. Don’t speak about yourself like that. You know when you’re 25 you are getting immortality. And there’s nothing wrong being a Midgardian. I know it seems a long time, little one. But I will write to you every single week. The time will fly by… But I will miss you so much.’ Loki kissed the top of her head.

Loki and Rose went for a ride on their horses. Then the following day they spent most of the day out in the mountains with a picnic. Which was their favorite thing to do.

When they got back to the stables, Loki looked to Rose and handed her Gljásvartur’s reins.

‘I want you to look after Gljásvartur for me while I am away. Take him out for rides to keep him fit. Will you do that for me?’ He asked as he stroked the stallion’s neck.

‘I will. I promise.’ Rose said as she nodded enthusiastically.

‘That’s my girl.’ Loki smiled and ruffled her hair, making her laugh.

When Loki and Thor had to leave, Rose was really sad. But she tried to stay strong for Loki. She didn’t want to upset him too.

She went with Odin and Frigga to see them off at the Bifrost. Loki gave her a big hug and kissed her forehead. Promising her again that he would write to her every week.

As soon as Loki and Thor disappeared, Rose started to cry. Frigga hugged her tightly and reassured her that it was going to be ok.

Over the days, Rose rode Gljásvartur out each day. She either led Eir with them too or rode twice a day. She felt a comfort when she was with Gljásvartur, closer to Loki.

Freya spent lots of time with her, to keep her occupied too.

Even though Rose really missed Loki, she was ok and knew he would be back in a few years. It wasn’t going to be forever.

As promised, Loki wrote to her every week and she wrote back to him. She enjoyed hearing about his and Thor’s adventures on Vanaheim and Midgard. She told him about her lessons at school and how the horses were doing. She told him how she went to see the wolf family up in the mountains with Gljásvartur one day.

Loki smiled as he read another letter from Rose. She was 15 now.

He missed her more and more every day. He couldn’t wait to return to Asgard to see her.

‘She will be of age when we return.’ Thor said as he saw his brother with another letter.

‘I know. It will be weird.’ Loki smiled as he tucked the letter away into his pocket.

‘Has mother said when the wedding will be yet?’ Thor asked.

‘I’m not sure. She says perhaps when she turns 17.’

‘Are you going to wait until then?’ Thor asked, and Loki knew exactly what he meant.

‘I am not even thinking about that quite yet. She is still a child for another year.’ Loki grumbled.

‘Alright, alright.’ Thor chuckled and put his hands up in defence.

‘Let’s go find these omegas.’ Loki grumbled as he moved towards the door.

They were trying to help the omegas that had been abandoned as children, like Rose was. They managed to track down one of the homes where they went to. It was just a matter of finding them and getting them to safety.

Odin had organised with some people of Midgard to set up safe houses for the omega children. Where it was Betas that looked after them. So that’s where Loki and Thor were going to take the children to.

The Alphas had heard that they were coming, so they tried to hide the omegas in the basement, claiming there wasn’t any in the house. But Loki could smell the fear from the omegas, so it was easy for him to find a group of 7 of them, huddled together in the basement looking absolutely terrified.

It took a while for them to trust him and Thor, but they eventually managed to get them out and to the safe house. The Betas did their best to make sure they were comfortable and safe.

One of the omegas looked similar to Rose. The same kind eyes and similar features on her face. It made his heart hurt as he thought about his Rose back home on Asgard.

It was a few months later, word about Loki and Thor being on Midgard had quickly gotten around the place. They had lots of Midgardians come to them for help or guidance. Some just wanted to see them in person. It wasn’t often two gods visited the mortal realm after all.

But it was when a couple went to see them, that Loki felt his blood boil.

‘What can we help you with?’ Thor asked the couple.

‘We have been trying for a baby for a long time. For an Alpha. But we seem to be unlucky in this aspect. Is there anything you can help us with, to achieve our goal?’ The Alpha woman asked.

‘Well, unfortunately there isn’t really anything that even we can do for fertility. Have you had any children?’ Thor asked.

‘No.’ The woman said with a straight face.

‘Lies.’ Loki hissed.

The two looked at Loki, startled. Thor looked at Loki with confusion too.

Loki stood up and started to stalk towards the couple. As he got closer he could tell by their smell that his suspicions were correct. His eyes narrowed in on them and his nostrils flared angrily as he let out a growl.

‘Excuse me?’ The woman gasped as she tried to stand her ground and square up to the Asgardian Prince.

‘I am the god of lies. I know when one is lying. And YOU are just stinking of lies. You have indeed had a child before. Maybe even more than one.’

The woman looked slightly startled that he knew.

‘What?’ She asked. The man just stayed silent by his Alphas side.

‘You had a baby girl. But she was an omega. You think omegas are worthless to have as children. So you beat her up and abandoned her. Left her to rot on her own.’ Loki snapped and lunged towards her, but Thor grabbed Loki in time and managed to hold him back.

‘How the fuck do you know?’ The Alpha woman spat at Loki.

‘Don’t. Brother.’ Thor hissed to Loki, as he clicked on to who the couple was.

‘Because I can see right through you. You people disgust me.’ Loki shouted.

The woman and man just glared at Loki as they quickly backed away to leave. The woman couldn’t believe that Loki knew the truth.

Loki snapped his arm back from Thor’s grip. ‘It’s fine.’ He snapped at him.

‘If they find out that you are Rose’s mate, they may try and pull something. It’s best that they don’t know. Remember what father said, if they found out she was on another realm, they could claim for kidnapping.’ Thor whispered to Loki.

‘I know, brother. I am not stupid.’ Loki said sharply.

Although he was angry, he knew that Thor was just looking out for him. He was rather glad that Thor had stopped him from attacking the woman. It wouldn’t look good if the Prince of Asgard had killed a mortal… Not in public anyway.

That night, he waited until Thor was sound asleep. It would take an earthquake to wake Thor up. So Loki took that opportunity to sneak away.

He sought out where the man and woman lived and entered their home with ease. Using his Seidr, he stayed hidden as he went upstairs and found the couple in bed. Sound asleep.

His anger was raging. This was the Alpha that had beaten and abused his darling little Rose. The thought had him shaking with so much anger.

He took out his dagger and allowed his Seidr to drop as he put a sleeping spell over the omega male. He pressed the blade against the Alpha’s neck. She woke up suddenly but froze when she felt the sharp edge of the dagger against her neck.

‘Make a sound, or try anything and I will kill you.’ Loki snarled quietly.

The woman looked up at Loki with wide eyes. The smell of her fear was evident in the air and it made the adrenaline rush through Loki’s veins.

‘What do you want?’ She asked quietly.

‘You are Rose’s mother. Though I say mother lightly, as you are a despicable excuse of one. Tell me, how many more children have you had and abandoned?’ Loki asked, his teeth gritted as he tried to remain as calm as possible.

‘She was the only one.’ The woman said honestly. ‘How do you know?’

‘I am her Alpha.’ Loki growled, teeth bared.

The woman’s eyes widened in shock and wonder. She couldn’t believe it. Her daughter was the omega of a Prince. All of the possibilities rushed through her mind, but that didn’t go unnoticed by Loki.

‘You are never going to see her again. So don’t even think about getting any ideas. She deserves the world. And that’s what she is going to get. She is going to be Princess of Asgard, right by my side. While you are going to rot in hell.’ Loki said angrily as he pressed the blade against her neck, just about to pierce the skin.

‘Wait! Please… We have been looking for her. We were worried. She ran away, we didn’t chuck her out.’ The Alpha tried to reason.

But Loki just laughed and shook his head.

‘Even my brother wouldn’t believe you. And he is not the brightest of sparks. If that were true, you would have come to us asking for help to find her. No… People like you do not deserve to live.’

Thor woke up the following morning to find Loki already awake. He was cleaning one of his daggers.

‘What are you doing, brother?’ Thor asked.

Loki smirked as he responded. ‘Just cleaning my daggers. You never know when one may need them.’

[yoonia]

Nocturne | 01

Character: Jungkook x OC (feat. BTS)

Type/Genre/words: Angst, Alternate Universe (Hitman!au, Assassin!au), Smut/Mature Scenes | 8,862 words

Prompts: “What would you find when you keep chasing over the ghosts of your past?”

Summary: It took only one night, one event, for the fate of two children to change. And it took another night, and another event, for Jungkook to finally met her.

Warning: mentions of violence, mentions of usage of guns and weapons, smoking and alcohol mentions, language, includes a little bit of girl x girl scene, graphic smut, mentions of cum play

Chapters: Prologue | 01 |

| Music Playlist | Characters |

a/n: Once you’ve read this chapter some of you might understand why I waited a whole damn year to publish this series after posting its preview - yes - one year ago, and then waited another month to finish doing its research. There is an event added to the plot that is written based on a real life event, but every character and the story that happens are full fiction and not written bluntly from it. I haven’t decided if I should share which event that is here in the post because of many reasons. Perhaps I will tell you about it one day― unless you can guess what it is^^ Enjoy :)

Jungkook can still feel his hand shaking as he reaches his apartment. He watches his fingers trembling in front of him as he is about to turn the keys. The sound of his rapid heartbeat fills his head, numbing his senses until the sound of the lock being turned seems so far away. Closing his eyes as he takes a deep breath, Jungkook tries his best to focus on calming his body to lax. The job he was sent to do tonight was not his first, but this is the first time anything he came encountered with have ever affected him so much. For some reason, he still can't shake off the feeling that still lingers in his body, the cold chill he felt when the masked figure returned his gaze with their eyes piercing through his lens.

It was impossible to be done, he knows that for sure. And he was supposed to be invisible. The question lingers in his head as he made his way home, wondering how they were able to see him through the dark and within that distance—if that person really did see him at all. It is that one initial thought that has been bothering him, and the other question that has him wondering how he is now able to stand in front of his apartment’s door—

Why did they let me go?

It takes him a few long seconds until the troubling thoughts disappear from his mind, until then he opens his eyes only when everything around him becomes numb. As the pounding in his chest slowly starts easing up, he turns the knob and pushes the door open, only to halt his steps at the entrance. He looks around with knitted eyebrows, completely disoriented when he is welcomed with brightness instead of coming home to find his apartment dark and empty as the way he had expected it to be.

For a minute he instantly becomes alerted, his hand already reaching out to the side of his backpack, ready to retrieve his defence. Flashes of what he had just witnessed earlier that night come back in his head and flashes of any possible scenarios allow the frightening chill to come running down his spine once again. Until he breathes in scents of food wafting in the air, which soon becomes his answer.

He releases a sigh, letting the tension in his body slowly fading, albeit his mind is still in a complete alert. Slowly entering the apartment, he starts calling out—

"Jimin, are you home?"

"Yeah," an answer comes from the kitchen, allowing Jungkook to finally loosen up and breathe out a sigh of relief. As he puts his hands down, Jungkook soon walks over to the source of his voice and finds his roommate there, grinning wide to welcome him home while stirring the boiling food in front of him. "Hey, you're home late. Got another overtime?"

Jungkook relaxes completely the moment his eyes land on his roommate, his heartbeat steadies as he savours the warmth coming from both the kitchen and the presence of another person around him, as he finally feels the sense of safety. "Uh— Yeah, I did. What—” he looks over to the contents of the pan, "What are you doing home? Why aren't you working?"

Jimin gives the younger man a smile as he answers, "I did go to work, but the pub's owner told everyone to close up early so he could use the place tonight,” he grins at Jungkook with a shrug. “The business owners are having a private meeting there with exclusive guests. They only needed one bartender to tend the guests, so I was sent home because apparently, the senior bartenders are more trustworthy of keeping secrets,” he chuckles and mutters, “Whatever they meant by it."

He turns back to focus on his cooking as the noise of the food boiling calls for his attention, "I got home to an empty apartment, so I figured I'd better cook this time while I'm free. You skipped dinner, didn't you?"

Jungkook gives out a faint smile, "I ate some hot dogs earlier—”

The older man shakes his head, "No, no, nu-uh— Good thing I'm making beef stew. Now go wash up first, the food will be ready when you're done."

"Okay," Jungkook pushes himself off the counter where he's been leaning on and starts walking away. He stops midway to speak, "You don't have to cook for me, you know. This is your first night when you are finally free from work, you could've just used it to rest, or have fun—or go on a date or something."

His roommate gave him a sarcastic laugh without looking over, "Someone needs to take care of you, kid. Now, go!"

Jungkook takes his time to wash up, deciding that keeping his head under running hot water for a few minutes longer might help calm him and refresh his mind a bit more. Jimin is already waiting for him at the dining table once Jungkook is done, the food is already set on the dining table in front of him, his eyes locked on the cell phone which he has in his hands while he waits for Jungkook to return.

Jimin still has his eyes on the device when Jungkook takes a seat across the table, only looking up at the younger man to watch him shaking his head as a way to push his wet hair away from his face. "That's much better. And now we eat," Jimin says with a smile while putting his phone aside.

The dinner starts in silence, the only noises filling the air comes from them clashing tablewares against plates as they both enjoy their meal, and the only words being exchanged between them at first are merely comments on the food. As silence occupies the rest of the dinner, Jimin raises his head, turning to take a sight of his roommate for the umpteenth time while the other seems to be lost in his own world; his eyes looking at his food as he eats absentmindedly.

"Is everything okay?" Jimin finally asks him, breaking the silence when the frown on the younger man's face becomes more apparent with each passing time. "It's been a long night for you, isn't it? Trouble at work?"

No direct reaction comes from Jungkook until a few seconds later when he blinks his eyes, only answering with a soft nod. "Yeah, just— so many things to work on," he stops to clear his throat and begins to share about his work―the one he does at the office, nothing from the one he did aside of his working hours. “—and since no one else was around the moment the confirmation of the news came in, I had to stay longer to edit the article and pick out pictures before we could publish the news online and prepare for the morning prints.”

Jimin nods his head while savouring the rest of the food on his plate. “Your company should be hiring more people. You joined them as a field journalist, not an editor,” he comments with a straight face, while Jungkook only gives him a small smile. “Yeah, well—not that many people are interested in working for printed media anymore,” he answers with a sigh, feeling a bit thankful for the light conversations he always has with his roommate, something he cherishes as one of the things in life that keeps him grounded despite his double life.

This has been their daily routine between their hectic lives. Jungkook works as a journalist on daytime, while Jimin works at night at the pub. They barely meet each other unless they cross path in between their working hours. So sitting on dinner table like tonight is such a rare event for the roommates, yet this is always the one-moment Jungkook always expects to have once in a while.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Someone left a package for you earlier," Jimin rises from his seat, grabbing a thick brown envelope over the kitchen counter and slides it over the table as he comes back to his seat. "The detective you've been meeting a lot lately, what's his name? He came right when I was about to head out to the pub, and asked me to give this to you."

"Namjoon?" Jungkook stares at Jimin before glancing at the package and reaching forward. "What is it—”

"Nu-uh," Jimin places his palm over the envelope to stop his friend from taking it. "Finish your food first. You told me to rest earlier, there's no way I'm letting you go straight to work."

Jungkook scoffs, "Alright, Dad," chuckling to himself before finishing his food.

"Are you still helping that detective?" Jimin keeps his eyes on his mate, clasping his hands over the table as he asks curiously. "What is it that you do for him, exactly?"

Jungkook rushes to clean his plate, hitting his chest a couple of times when he almost chokes on his food. He takes a few big gulps of water and sighs before answering, "We've only been exchanging some random information, nothing much," he says, clearing his throat while grabbing the envelope. He leaves his seat, placing the plate on the sink before walking away. "Okay, I should go and head to work in my room."

"Jungkook—” Jimin calls him out, stopping him when he's just about to reach his bedroom.

"Yeah?"

The older housemate is now staring at Jungkook with a dark and curious gaze in his eyes. His face never changing his expression when he speaks, "Don't get yourself hurt."

Jungkook gives him a pursed smile. "I won't, I promise."

They exchange the same knowing look in their eyes, the look they both recognise from one another after knowing each other since they were much younger. The same look they gave each other when young Jungkook came rushing for his help 15 years ago. And it is only when Jimin gives him a soft nod when Jungkook turns and continues to walk over to his room, mumbling under his breath,

"I'm going to make sure you won’t get hurt either."

Jungkook is sitting at his desk a few hours after midnight, his computer screen and the desk lamp being the only lights illuminating his dark room. The contents of the brown envelope are now left in a messy pile on his desk, some had been marked by highlights and scribbles made in red ink. But his eyes are locked on the screen, staring at the window of the messenger as messages keep coming in before his own fingers start typing on the keyboards.

BlackCrow: target was supposed to be secured

BlackCrow: there was no directive to have him killed

Waterhouse: so it wasn't any one of you guys?

BlackCrow: we don't kill

BlackCrow: we search for information

BlackCrow: how much info have you managed to get?

Waterhouse: the only ones my lenses could catch

Waterhouse: had no chance of getting closer

Waterhouse: only saw faces

Waterhouse: there was nothing left behind after cleanup

BlackCrow: we'll identify them

BlackCrow: any familiars

BlackCrow: ?

Waterhouse: _

Waterhouse: negative

BlackCrow: _

BlackCrow: we have detected more puzzles

Waterhouse: how wide is the spread

BlackCrow: not the usual

Waterhouse: _

Waterhouse: have you solved it?

BlackCrow: too easy to be theirs

BlackCrow: _

Waterhouse: send me in

BlackCrow: _

BlackCrow: too risky

Waterhouse: I can get more information

Waterhouse: no one knows who I am except for you

BlackCrow: _

BlackCrow: we’ll consider

BlackCrow: send all files to us

BlackCrow: by tonight

BlackCrow: we'll have you posted for further directives

Waterhouse: _

Waterhouse: understood

Jungkook waits to make sure that there are no more messages coming in before he closes the chat. He reaches down into his backpack to retrieve his camera, slipping its memory card into his USB device to transfer every file, every picture he had taken previously into his computer.

As each of the images appears on the screen, he recalls the event inside his head. It is as if he is taken back to that old abandoned building again, focusing through his lens and holding his forefinger from twitching as he pressed the shutter button. He can faintly hear the arguments, the yelling, and the gunshots inside his head once again, and he notices how his fingers are trembling as they hover on the keyboard.

Taking a deep breath, he starts to collect himself and focus on sorting out each picture into different folders, making sure that he would be sending the ones informative enough to the people who had sent him to the previous location. He stops the minute the last picture appears on his screen, the ones he had taken of the masked intruder—of which he still couldn't figure out on whether they were there as an assassin or a special guard—that had caught his sight.

He feels his heart beating rapidly as he recalls the moment in his mind, back to the time they stopped in their tracks and turned, until their eyes are set straight into his lens. He was so sure that he was done for. His heart skips a beat when he remembers the fear that he felt at that moment, how he couldn't let go of his camera even as his mind tried to plan out different scenarios—from how to retrieve the firearm he had prepared inside his bag as a way to protect himself, despite how much he knew the distance would hinder his shots to reach the target, to making an escape plan—neither of which he ever had a chance to finally do.

He remembers now how he had frozen on his spot instead. But he does not remember that he had managed to keep pressing the shutter button when it happened. He keeps clicking his mouse to see more and more pictures of the figure being displayed on his screen, stopping at the last picture which for some reason seems a bit different than others.

Moving his mouse to zoom in, he is finally able to see them more clearly. He is now able to identify the intruder as a female now that he is able to look into them more thoroughly, to scan his eyes on her covered figure. Zooming in on the picture, that is not the only thing that he can finally see. His eyes are focused on her face as he keeps skipping through the next picture in line, stopping at the last one he had taken before he slipped away from that hidden edge of the building.

He is now seeing how the glint in her eyes looks much different compared to her gaze in the other pictures, and as he focuses on how the light falls over her mask, the shadows are allowing him to see faint lines of her lips. He finally notices now that she was smiling under that mask.

At him.

Jungkook takes a long deep breath to bring himself back from his trance. Instantly continuing on sorting out the pictures, separating the photos he had taken of her into a different folder.

He stares straight at the screen before he types different names onto each folder, a way for him to remember each of their contents before sending them out. He waits for a little while before renaming the last folder, the one where he keeps her pictures in, as he types in the question he has in his mind at the person behind the mask—

Who are you?

The bed creaks in a steady rhythm. Two bodies—both naked and sweaty beneath the linen covers—rock under the dim light steadily with intensity, accompanied by deep grunts and soft moans. The humid air is filled with dust, remnants of alcohol and the scent of sex. The ardent lovemaking emits heat so intense until they are bathed in beads of sweat, the fire evident in their eyes as they chase for their ends.

“Oh, Jiheon— You should look at yourself,” the man huffs while tightening his hold on her skin. “You look so pretty like this.”

The man keeps his eyes on the woman beneath him to admire her sight. Her red hair is spread over the pillows like fire, and her red lips are parted, allowing her mewls to come out between her ragged breaths.

"Ah—” Jiheon releases a mewl as the man who is ramming his cock inside her core increases his pace, her fingers are now buried between the tangled sheets, holding on while keeping them away from the sweaty chest hovering above her. Her thighs are both lifted in the air, being held by a pair of strong arms as they are folded around his waist, allowing him to have more access to reach deep inside and to move his hips more fluidly.

"You like that, babe? Huh?" the man grunts between each word, and he keeps driving his cock into her, getting much harder each time he hears any sounds slipping from her lips. "Fuck, you're getting tighter."

"Oh— that's it, big guy," Jiheon cries out, "Oh! Yes! Fuck me! Hard!" Jiheon spits out the words each time he draws his cock inside her walls, hitting hard right at her sweet spot until her head starts spinning with the intense bliss. He keeps ramming, relentlessly, until he joins her, shocks of his own pleasure coursing through his body as he explodes inside her.

"Fuck—”

He goes still for a moment, giving in to the remaining spasms of his release until he lets out a deep grunt and pulls out of her, allowing his thick cream to flow out through her nether lips. His eyes are fluttering to close as he savours the feeling that is surging through his senses, only opening them wide as he catches the sight of Jiheon reaching down between her legs, capturing the drops of cum with her delicate fingers before lifting them to her lips. He watches with a dark gaze as she licks her fingers slowly, teasingly, while keeping her eyes locked on his, driving him completely mad at the scene that his still throbbing shaft twitches between his legs.

Jiheon tightens the linen covers around her bare body after settling on top of the bed with her back resting on the headboard. She looks over towards the open bathroom door to see white faint steam flowing through the gap, as she reaches to the bedside to pick up a pack of cigarette and a lighter.

She is in the midst of lighting up a cigarette when the man walks out of the bathroom while rubbing the hotel towel to dry out his soaked hair. He only has his pants on, his bare chest still a bit damp as he stops at the doorway and looks up at her.

"Judging from the looks of it, you're not going home tonight, are you?" Jiheon speaks to him before taking a long draw of her smoke. The man smirks as he stares at her, watching her exhale the smoke before she asks him, "Still chasing that ghost of yours?"

"Well, it's kind of what I'm paid to do," the man chuckles. He throws the towel away after he finishes drying up, and walks over to the bed to retrieve the rest of his clothes.

She looks up at him, watching him put his clothes on with a sarcastic chuckle, "Your official boss? Or the other?"

The man scoffs, "Both, actually—” he sits on the bed, half facing her as he speaks while putting on his tie in a sloppy knot, “—except each payroll have their own different agendas. All I could do is adjust to their commands."

"Tell me again about this ghost of yours. Why are you after them?"

He smacks his lips, while his eyes trail the wall across from him as a way to focus on sorting through the pieces of information he has kept inside his head. Jiheon looks away when she figures that perhaps he doesn’t want to talk about work tonight, but then he turns to her with a smug smirk.

"There have been random puzzles being spread all over the internet, each of them hiding intricate messages—some contains random and useless pieces of information, while others have more consequential messages. Names, locations, photos, any kind of information that is worth either a lot of money or someone else's life," he stops to take the cigarette away from her fingers, taking a draw before giving it back to her, only continuing to speak after he exhales a thick white smoke. "The one we’ve been tracking down is this ghost that has been spreading them. From the way they describe themselves on those puzzles, it looks like they form themselves as a group of people, or a whole organisation, who definitely know how to create these tricky puzzles and have ways in spreading them to specific people only. No one really knows for sure, really. And no one could ever figure out what they want.”

He sighs. “But one thing we do know is that whenever anyone gets too close to revealing their identity—either they are the ones that claimed to have succeeded in solving the puzzles, or people digging about them illegally for whatever damn reason, someone always ends up dead."

"There are victims? I thought you said once that these people are just a bunch of hackers?"

"Yeah, that’s what we thought," he sighs, leaning down to put his shoes on. “—until one of the hackers who we thought was related to them was shot to death—” he turns, reaching out to her and points a finger to her temple, “—right here."

“So what happens if anyone manages to solve the puzzle?”

The man shrugs. “Nobody knows. Some of the people that had hinted about solving them have mostly disappeared. Some of them are illegal hackers anyway, so no one really cared at first. But then students, computer tech experts, and some other known geniuses began disappearing simultaneously whether they have publicly claimed on solving the puzzles or merely showing interests on them, and that’s when everyone becomes alerted,” he rubs his chin, tilting his head until his smug face is illuminated by the light coming from the bedside lamp. “We initially figured that the missing people have probably chosen to go underground to join them, or just stopped going online publicly if they did, in fact, had really succeeded in solving them too. Now we’re not sure anymore.”

Jiheon gnaws her bottom lip. "What if it was you? What if you're targeted just like that hacker?"

The man laughs. "That's what my second employers are good for. To keep me safe—” he reaches into his pocket, “—while also paying me enough money so I could pay for your service." She watches him as he takes out a rolled bill from his pocket, and places it onto her palm.

He leans over to kiss her lips. "Thanks for your time, beautiful. I'll see you next Thursday," he says with a wink, before leaving the bed and walks over towards the door.

"See you then, Detective," she hums towards the man, right before the door shuts to close.

It is a little close to an hour later when Jiheon steps out of the small hotel. In many normal events, she would have stayed longer, not leaving the rented bedroom after she is sure that she has taken a long hot bath and has finished redoing her hair and makeup perfectly since she would always have to go back to work. But this time she could not stay any longer. Not at the worn down hotel with a room that is too suffocating for her to rest well enough to regain her drained energy.

"Fuck, I still smell like him," she curses under her breath as she breathes in the remnants of his cologne that somehow manages to stay on her skin, right as she paces down the sidewalk.

She makes a quick turn after a few buildings down, taking a shortcut through the alleyways. It is dangerous for a woman like her to walk in dark places so late at night, but she has both hands inside her coat pockets, ready to pull out her folded knife and pepper spray if any danger ever comes her way.

“Jiheon—” a humming soft voice calls for her, making her stop in her tracks and looks around. She recognises the voice so well to feel secure enough to loosen her clenched fists inside her pockets. Knowing who it might be, she squints her eyes into the darker alley, until the person emerges into her sight.

“Now where are you running to so late at night?” the hum returns as a woman in black leather hooded jacket comes into the light, stepping out of the shadows to allow the nearest street light to fall over her face. Her jade-coloured eyes gleam in the darkness that is thicker than her dark hair that has fallen on her back completely uncovered.

“Mae!” Jiheon greets her with relieved before walking closer. “I just finished a job. I’m heading back to my place,” she says as she stood by the other woman that is standing slightly taller than herself beneath the shadows. Her eyes study the other thoroughly, as she is used to seeing through the dark. “—and it looks like you also just finished yours, hmm?”

Mae tilts her head, lifting her brows with a fond look in her eyes. “How did you know?”

“You smell like blood and gunpowder. And there’s some dried blood on your sleeve,” Jiheon smirks at her, earning a laughter to come out of the other.

“Clever girl. Nothing escapes your eyes, does it?”

Jiheon smiles at her as her laughter dies down. “Was it a tough one?”

“Definitely not something to worry about,” Mae answers her calmly while shaking her head. Stopping abruptly as the memory of her catching someone lurking in the shadows from the neighbouring building just as she was about to retrieve her ‘package’. The image gives her a smile, as she recalls how the mystery figure hiding behind the lens stayed still even as she glanced straight at them, expecting them to rush into hiding or run away. “I wouldn’t worry much if I were you,” she continues to speak after brushing the memory away. “I saw the detective walking out of the hotel before you did. How was it?”

Jiheon scoffs, her eyes light up with a surprised look. “How long exactly have you been following me?”

Mae shrugs. “Just enough time to know that he’s a quickie. I needed a break anyway, it’s been a long night,” she clicks her tongue. “Did you get him to talk?”

Jiheon lets out a chuckle. "Oh, that man sure does love to talk. I didn't even have to ask for much and he started talking about a huge part of his case," she muses. “He mostly talked about the ghost again, but he mentioned about the puzzles this time.”

“Hmmm, good. We’re getting there,” Mae smirks at her, nodding her head as she takes in the news delightedly. “Anything else?”

“Just the things he usually talks about. Except he mentioned about some victims this time, which is something I haven't heard about. Missing people, dead people—” Jiheon’s voice trails as she remembers every word he had given her, “—you wouldn’t be involved on those, would you?”

“Oh, I do take lives. That’s what I’m paid for. But it’s definitely not me, or us. We're not that messy,” she shakes her head, gritting her teeth as she thinks about the event that happened earlier tonight, when someone else had arrived only minutes before she did, so close into harming the ‘package’ she was sent there to grab. There were not supposed to be casualties, but someone wanted the same thing she did, in a more reckless way. “Anything close enough to a lead? A name?”

Jiheon shakes her head this time, her eyes showing defeat. “I’m not close or deep enough to get that yet. He didn’t even carry any belongings except for his dick and his thick wallet this time, so I didn’t find anything.”

Mae takes a step closer to her, the slight height difference between them allows her to brush her nose on the top of Jiheon’s head. She breathes in her scent as she starts to lean down closer to her ever so gently. “Have you taken a shower after you were done with him?”

Jiheon’s breath hitches at the sudden close proximity between them, and the slightest touch she feels as Mae’s fingers graze beneath her coat just over her waist. “I did take a quick one. I hate the place, so I just left immediately,” she answers with a soft whisper.

“You still reek of men’s cologne,” Mae hums while nuzzling her nose between the strains of Jiheon’s red hair. She catches Jiheon’s wrist, before gently pulling her to follow her as she starts walking through the dark alleyway.

“Come on. Let me help you clean up.”

Jiheon's voice echoes through the walls. The hum that keeps coming out through her lips is showing perfectly on how much her body is relaxing under the running water as she stands beneath the shower head. But the drops of hot water falling over her skin are certainly not the only reason why her strained muscles and numbed senses are unwinding with each passing seconds.

"How does this feel?" Mae hums softly from behind her, her fingers are buried within Jiheon's red hair, expertly massaging the scalp while spreading the shampoo to loosen the knots on her hair.

“Hmmm—” Jiheon lets out another hum, earning a soft chuckle to escape Mae’s lips. “I wouldn’t know if I’m doing it right if you’re not telling me anything,” she whispers with her lips brushing the nape of Jiheon’s neck.

“But it feels so good—” Jiheon hums, her hands moves to her breasts as she gently rubs soap all over her chest.

“Good,” Mae chuckles, as she moves her hands away without pulling back, her nose and lips still grazing on Jiheon’s skin. “And the way you smell is so much better now.”

Jiheon tilts her head to the back as she lets Mae help her rinse all the shampoo off of her hair, keeping her eyes closed as she relishes the moment and the warmth that engulfs her whole body. She is truly lost in her own pleasure that she forgets how close Mae is standing to her back until she feels delicate fingers touching her skin, gently spreading the liquid soap all over Jiheon’s body while her back meets a pair of supple breasts pressing from behind. A gasp escapes her lips when the fingers softly move upward, brushing and kneading gently right beneath her breasts.

She leans back, allowing her body to fall over Mae’s chest as the latter moves her fingers gently, kneading over her bosoms and pointed nubs while lathering the soap on the tender skin, not leaving any single inch as if she is trying to erase the remaining traces that Jiheon's previous customer had left behind.

Mae keeps moving her palm in circles, ever so gently, pressing down the tip of her fingers on each movement to earn the continuous soft hums from Jiheon, escaping between her short breaths. The hums become more apparent, slowly turning into light moans as she feels the soft touches keep moving lower, slowly moving closer to her center.

A light gasp slips through Jiheon's lips the minute a tip of a finger grazes an inch away from her mound. The warmth coming from both the running water and the soft palms lathering her skin have both been sending waves of sensual pleasure, teasing and tickling all over her senses, until heat starts building in her core. Jiheon squeezes both her legs together, accidentally catching Mae's hand in between, allowing the other to giggle.

"What's wrong? Do you want me to stop?" Mae whispers to her, brushing her lips over her earlobe as she does so. "You never said no before—”

Jiheon takes a deep breath before pulling her legs apart. She turns slightly to look over her shoulder until her face is closer to Mae's. Biting her lips, she whispers, "No, don't stop—” she sighs, earning a smile from the other. Jiheon shudders as the slender fingers that have been roaming around her mound slips back between her legs, brushing on either side of her folds so gently. With her eyelids fluttering to close, she catches Mae's wrist with her own, daringly guiding the hand to slide towards her core while whispering, “—just keep on going."

Jiheon wraps a towel around her body and another covering her wet hair before making her way out of the bathroom with Mae in the midst of leaving the shower behind her. Yet right the minute her sight slips out through the doorway, she lets out a loud squeal.

“Whoa— Oh, sorry, I—” a deep voice is heard from outside, catching Mae’s attention which earns her smirk to appear even before she follows Jiheon to leave the bathroom.

Meanwhile, just right outside, there is a man now standing with both of his hands up right in the middle of the living room, a few feet away from the bathroom hall. A startled look on his face as he certainly is not ready to see another person appearing before him. “—I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be here. Uhm—” he keeps stuttering, looking around as if he is trying to find somewhere to hide. The sight is only causing the previously startled Jiheon to now stare at him in awe with a soft giggle slipping from her. Turning awkwardly to look at the girl in front of her, he clears his throat before asking sheepishly, “I’m here for Mae. Is she around? Is she here?”

“She’s here.” Mae's voice is heard from inside the bathroom, seconds before she appears through the doorway, stepping behind Jiheon while greeting him with her signature sly smirk, “Hello, Taehyung.”

Her body and hair are both still wet, the water still dripping off her skin yet she is standing there completely bare, without any towels to cover herself. She looks over to the other girl, nodding her head as she calmly runs her finger through the few strands of red hair that have fallen out of the towel wrapping around her head and hanging on the side of Jiheon's face. "Go on and wait for me in the bedroom. I'll be with you in a minute."

The smaller girl nods before walking away into the bedroom, deliberately sending a flirty glance over at Taehyung while passing the doorway with her hips swaying side to side, followed by both Mae's and Taehyung's gaze until she disappears from their sights. Mae has her body leaning at the bathroom's door when Taehyung turns his eyes back towards her, her eyes meeting his while she lifts both hands, squeezing the drenched hair as an effort to dry herself a little as she waits for him to speak. Her eyes light up when she notices how Taehyung's attention still lingers at her companion. “She’s my guest. You guys did say that I’m free to invite anyone in my own home," she smirks. "So, what brings you here?”

Taehyung stutters once more as he is pulled away from his reverie. His eyes are looking everywhere else but at Mae, always glancing away immediately the moment he tries to look at her face, “I was just— You’re not answering your call, and— Christ, can’t you put on a towel or something? I literally can’t speak to you seriously with you looking like— that.”

Mae only lifts her eyebrows, straightening her body instead of attempting to cover herself. “Aren’t you enjoying the view?”

“Ew— No, we literally grew up together. It’s like seeing my own baby sister naked in front of me. Cover up, I can’t talk with you like that,” he scowls with furious eyes. “And dry yourself up for once? Please?”

His flustered remarks allow Mae to release an amused laugh. “Fine,” she says, before walking back into the bathroom, coming back seconds later with a towel wrapped around her body. "Better?"

Taehyung releases a sigh and nods. "Much better."

The man rolls his eyes when he sees how Mae is completely entertained by his flustered state. He turns around and makes his way to the sofa, sitting while brushing his hand over his hair in exasperation.

"Okay, what is it that you want to talk about?" Mae walks over to stand before him, crossing her arms over her chest.

He looks at her, now becoming more serious as she brings up the topic, finally, albeit the way she seems to have been trying to avoid the talk by not taking him so seriously. “Your job tonight. How did it go?”

She shrugs. “It was okay. Should’ve been a piece of cake, if it wasn’t for the leak," she scoffs. Even if she seems so careless and nonchalant for the whole night, it is still pretty obvious that she has been keeping her anger to herself for how the night has turned out to be. The mission she was sent out for was simple. She was supposed to retrieve a whole package—consisted of a witness and some files which the man is keeping safe—and to have them all sent into hiding until The Elders, the people she works for, would come and collect what they need. It was supposed to be a simple pickup and delivery, no hit or kill until that witness is no longer useful and her directive changes the moment everything is done.

But apparently, someone had decided to make their own move.

"It would've been a complete mess if I had gotten in a few seconds too late. Whoever was sent to assassinate him probably knew the target was going to arrive ahead of the designated time."

"What about the guards? He was supposed to be there alone, not surrounded by random bodyguards."

Mae stares at him, gritting her teeth. The same question filled her mind ever since she stepped into the building. "No, he wasn't supposed to be protected. So it was either he knew he was targeted, or he was setting a trap for us." Because it would be the perfect explanation for everything. For the sudden change of his arrival, the guards, the assassin. Mae lets out a curse under her breath, not only because the whole night did not completely go as planned, but the fact that someone else was so close to taking her target from her.

She is the one who was supposed to take his life when the time is due. Not some random inexperienced hitman.

"I'll try to find out who they are. In the meantime, you stay in his shadows. Find out what he is really up to," Taehyung tuts while rubbing his chin, while Mae nods her head as an answer. "Did you stay around during the cleanup?"

"Yeah, I did. I had to make sure they didn't leave anything or destroy any clues we needed," Mae hums calmly while recalling everything, reminding herself to submit everything she had found to her leaders.

"So nothing was left behind? Did you make sure of it? No scratch, no witness?"

"No," Mae answers him firmly, not even looking away despite silently recalling the whole events like a broken record in her head. The image of the man in the shadows, hiding behind the long-range lens as he was lurking from afar, flashes in her mind all of a sudden. "No witness. Every single one of the guards was already down when I chased him up. I reported everything earlier. I scanned the area to make sure there was no one around as witnesses."

"Is that so?"

Taehyung stays silent for a brief while. His eyes trail over Mae's feature as if he is trying to see through beneath her mask. Mae keeps standing there without faltering even for a second. She cannot even understand why she had left the mysterious figure that was spying on her completely untouched, even when she was trained to not leave anything behind. But she is not even worried about letting one prey go for once, because for some reason there is something deep inside her that keeps letting her know that she is meant to meet them again one day. Perhaps soon enough.

Taehyung nods his head while nibbling his lips. "Okay then. I should go check on every report now that I've heard them from you directly. I was a bit worried since I know you must be affected by—”

"I'm fine. You don't have to baby me," she cuts him off, earning a sarcastic scoff to escapes through Taehyung's lips.

Right, of course," he hums as he stands up on his feet. “Anyway, I'm also here to inform you about your next task. You are going to be sent on guarding the ‘package’ in within the next 48 hours. You'll have the details sent later, so you should rest up in the meantime," he says, while making his way towards the front door, stopping to add another instruction right before he leaves. "Oh, and another thing. You need to report straight to Big Brother in the morning.”

Mae quirks her eyebrows. "Big Brother? You mean, Yoongi?” it's been a while since she has met him, the man she had known since the very first day she joined the organisation. The name ‘Big Brother’ is relevant in so many things, him being the older member who had taken care of her for years being one of those reasons. But he had been underground for so long already, unless he is needed for a much bigger mission which requires his expertise. “Why?”

Taehyung halts as he is about to open the door, turning to look at her. “He just had a meeting with The Elders. They have a message for you. I don't know what it is, but it must be important.” He stands by the doorway as he waits for her to respond, only making his leave once Mae answers him with, "Understood."

Mae stands still even after Taehyung disappears behind the closed door. The silence that engulfs her becomes her refuge, as she takes a moment to let everything sinks in. After letting out a long breath, she turns around, making her way towards the bedroom where she is most expected.

A bright smile appears on her face instantly the moment her eyes catch the sight of the red-haired woman now lying on her bed, waiting patiently while staring at her fingers that are circling over the sheets. Jiheon looks up to her, returning Mae's smile with her own before she lifts the blanket to reveal her bare body underneath as she welcomes Mae to join her.

Jungkook had left his apartment when the sky was still dark.

He took his time and went back to the scene from the other night, scanning the area inside and out to find any clues, anything that could answer the question he had circling inside his mind on his sleepless night. But he should have known that nothing would be left behind.

Except for him.

Jungkook stood in the darkness of the room that became witness to the scene, scanning every nook and cranny to find nothing, not even a single drop of blood or tear, even though he had witnessed a mass killing only hours before. He took his time, taking pictures of the room while recalling everything he saw from start to end. The shootings, the arguments, the killings, and the assassins.

Two assassins, one who killed and one who helped the target to flee the scene, appearing to do it forcefully instead of acting as a simple bodyguard in the process.

He still could not understand what had happened. He was sent there to take pictures and find information, to stalk the subject so he could find any dirt that could be used by people who had hired him, while perhaps find any bit of clues he could use for his work since the subject was a pretty well-known man. He has been doing this job for years—chasing news, digging into people’s deepest secrets, unravelling their masks for the sake of his job and getting to publish the hottest news first while chasing his own ghost.

But now the whole thing only leads him into finding another ghost to chase.

It was hours later after the sun came up when Jungkook left the building, headed straight to his office to have an extra time for himself so he could browse through his computer and the internet before he has to start working for the day. He has not received any calls of incoming news either or the police, so he was expecting to find other sources of information online, other witnesses. But he found nothing, as if everything was wiped out completely from the surface of the earth.

They are good, he thinks to himself amusedly.

"Jungkook, you're here already?"

He turns his seat to see his head division walking towards his workstation. He has been the only one in the office for a while now since the sun had come up, and he has lost track of time completely to not realising that it's almost time for working hours to officially start. Switching his mouse to hide all the browsers from the screen, he greets the older man politely just as everything is cleared and the man is now standing by his desk. "Yes, Sir. I just had to finish something that I was working on last night and made sure there won’t be any problems with the online pages in the website."

"Wow, you're such a workaholic,” the other man chuckles. “But it's good that you're here. Do you still have a lot to do today?"

"Not really, Sir."

"Good,” his senior says, tapping his fingers on the desk. “I'm supposed to go and meet this young tycoon to interview him today. He called the company about clarifying some rumours of him joining politics. I know it's not really your field, but I think it could be a good opportunity for you to learn more. We're running out of reporters to send. Will it be okay for you to take over and join me in the interview?"

"Sure, I can do it," Jungkook nods his head immediately.

"Alright, I'll give you the details later. Try to study more about this man's background before meeting him in person," he says, giving Jungkook the name of the said tycoon before leaving him be.

"Will do, Sir."

It is later in the midday, right around the time lunch break hour has ended when Jungkook joins his head division, operating as the reporter on this occasion, and they settle in the head office which belongs to the famous tycoon whom they are about to speak to.

This will be the first time for Jungkook to be involved in such an exclusive interview, and he is doing his best to act professional, having his troubled thoughts pushed away so he can focus on the job today. He calmly sets his camera and other types of equipment while there are other staffs around him preparing the set and the man in Armani suits who is about to be the spotlight of the day. Jungkook has his eyes set on his devices, occasionally looking up at the interviewee as he is preparing himself, only to make sure that everything is set perfectly in place.

“Are we ready?” Jungkook looks up at his senior reporter who is waiting for everyone so patiently on his own seat.

Jungkook gives out a signal letting everyone know that everything is all set, and moments later he watches as the respondent, the famous tycoon and the owner of the whole building, walks over to the seat that has been set for him. It did not take Jungkook long enough to study about the man’s background before coming here, for everything he should know about the man are available everywhere and through every possible source both online and offline.

The man before him is famous for being a young tycoon, who owns numerous business lines in various region—from properties, stocks, to pubs and night clubs. He was able to find everything about the man so easily, and have also heard a lot already coming from Jimin every time the roommate comes home sharing news and gossips about the people who run the place where he works at.

Jungkook sets the camera right at the moment the man before him nods his head to give permission to the reporter in front of him to start.

“So, Mr. Kim Seokjin—” Jungkook hears his older co-worker starts the whole event, ready to throw the first question to begin the session, “—let’s talk about the news that has been spreading lately—”

“I’d say that went pretty well, didn’t it?” Jungkook’s senior speaks up proudly as they are on the elevator ride two hours later. The interview went along well, and both men had stayed a bit longer to have a more casual conversation with the tycoon they had just interviewed, Kim Seokjin.

“Yes, Sir. Thank you for taking me with you,” Jungkook smiles at the man, which then responds to him with, “Thanks for helping. Looks like I’m going to ask you to assist me more often starting from now.”

As both men share the gratitude towards one another during the long elevator ride, the moment they reach the ground floor and step out towards the lobby, Jungkook feels his phone vibrating in his pocket. He walks a bit slower to allow him to retrieve the phone and read the message in discreet, somehow already knowing that he should hide the information being sent to him.

[03.45 PM] From KYG: sending links to the puzzle on email

—and with it comes another chime as a sign of a mail coming into his phone.

Completely aware that he might not be able to open the links through a mobile connection, Jungkook puts his phone away and starts pacing to keep up with his senior mate, carrying his heavy devices in hand. They continue the previous conversation that was cut short earlier as they make their way through the spacious lobby towards the way out.

Just at that moment, Jungkook turns to glance at the main entrance door and nearly halts to freeze the moment his eyes land on the man who is walking past the massive glass door. His eyes trail over the bandaged hand that is carrying a brown leather duffel bag on his side, the faint cut on his lipa—which has his memory flashing back to the moment he witnessed the man receiving a big slap by the masked intruder—and the bags under his eyes.

It is his target.

The same man that he followed and spied on last night, the one he witnessed escaping death by an unidentified assassin.

His eyes follow the man unknowingly as he walks closer, everything suddenly seems so far as he has his full attention on the target which is about to pass him by. Until his eyes move to the one walking behind him. A woman is following closely behind the man; she is wearing a black on black business suit, a pair of black high heels, her hair falling on her back and nearly reaching her waist, a pair of glasses covering her face.

His breath hitches the moment he sees her, for behind those clear glasses are a pair of jade-coloured eyes, staring straight at the man in front of her while subtly glancing around in alert.

Jungkook halts his footsteps completely as the pair walk past him. He could hear the pounding in his chest surging through his head, and the chill coming back to take over his body almost completely, rushing briefly before everything goes away and he returns to his own self, remembering that he needs to walk away and follow his companion behind. Yet for some reason he does not even know why, he still manages to turn to look over his shoulder right before he is able to continue walking.

The moment his eyes find her again, however, she does just the same—looking over her shoulder slightly towards him, showing a subtle smirk before she continues to walk away and disappears between the crowd.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Disclaimer: All works are written by myself. Any copyright infringement, reposting on any other social media or website, and any act of plagiarism will be dealt with legal action

[newstfionline]

Headlines

Firefighters battle exhaustion along with wildfire flames (AP) They work 50 hours at a stretch and sleep on gymnasium floors. Exploding trees shower them with embers. They lose track of time when the sun is blotted out by smoke, and they sometimes have to run for their lives from advancing flames. Firefighters trying to contain the massive wildfires in Oregon, California and Washington state are constantly on the verge of exhaustion as they try to save suburban houses, including some in their own neighborhoods. Each home or barn lost is a mental blow for teams trained to protect lives and property. And their own safety is never assured. Oregon firefighter Steve McAdoo’s shift on Sept. 7 seemed mostly normal, until late evening, when the team went to a fire along a highway south of Portland. “Within 10 minutes of being there, it advanced too fast and so quick ... we had to cut and run,” he said. “You can’t breathe, you can’t see.” That happened again and again as he and the rest of the crew worked shifts that lasted two full days with little rest or food. They toiled in an alien environment where the sky turns lurid colors, ash falls like rain and towering trees explode into flames, sending a cascade of embers to the forest floor. “The sky was just orange or black, and so we weren’t sure if was morning or night,” he said. “My crew and I said that to each other many times, ‘What is going on? When is this going to end?’”

Rescuers reach people cut off by Gulf Coast hurricane (AP) Rescuers on the Gulf Coast used boats and high-water vehicles Thursday to reach people cut off by floodwaters in the aftermath of Hurricane Sally, even as a second round of flooding took shape along rivers and creeks swollen by the storm’s heavy rains. Across southern Alabama and the Florida Panhandle, homeowners and businesses began cleaning up, and officials inspected bridges and highways for safety, a day after Sally rolled through with 105 mph (165 kph) winds, a surge of seawater and 1 to 2 1/2 feet (0.3 to 0.8 meters) of rain in many places before it began to break up. Crews carried out at least 400 rescues in Escambia County, Florida, by such means as high-water vehicles, boats and water scooters, authorities said. In Alabama, on both sides of Mobile Bay, National Guard soldiers from high-water evacuation teams used big trucks Thursday to rescue at least 35 people. At least one death, in Alabama, was blamed on the hurricane. Nearly 400,000 homes and businesses were still without power Thursday night, mostly in Alabama and Florida.

Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg dies at 87 (AP) Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, a towering women’s rights champion who became the court’s second female justice, died Friday at her home in Washington. She was 87. Ginsburg died of complications from metastatic pancreatic cancer, the court said. Her death just over six weeks before Election Day is likely to set off a heated battle over whether President Donald Trump should nominate, and the Republican-led Senate should confirm, her replacement, or if the seat should remain vacant until the outcome of his race against Democrat Joe Biden is known.

Flights to nowhere (Washington Post) With international travel in much of the world still disrupted by the coronavirus pandemic, some airlines are resorting to “flights to nowhere” that target passengers who long for air travel—and some are willing to shell out plenty of money for the tickets. Qantas, among the latest to advertise a flight that departs and arrives at the same airport, told Reuters that the trip sold out less than 10 minutes after going on sale on Thursday. “It’s probably the fastest-selling flight in Qantas history,” a spokeswoman for the airline said.

Health-care workers make up 1 in 7 covid-19 cases recorded globally, WHO says (Washington Post) Health-care workers account for 1 in 7 coronavirus cases recorded by the World Health Organization, the U.N. agency said this week. “Globally, around 14 percent of covid-19 cases reported to WHO are among health workers, and in some countries it’s as much as 35 percent,” WHO director general Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus said at a news conference in Geneva. The figures are disproportionate: Data collected by the WHO suggests that health workers represent less than 3 percent of the population in the majority of countries and less than 2 percent in almost all low- and middle-income countries. In April, the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention found that health-care workers accounted for 11 percent to 16 percent of covid-19 cases during the first surge of infections in the United States. When covid-19 began spreading through Western nations early this year, health-care workers faced critical shortages of personal protective equipment, also known as PPE. Even now, well over half a year into the pandemic, there are shortages of tests.

Bank of England considers negative interest rates (Yahoo Finance) The Bank of England yesterday indicated that it could cut interest rates below zero for the first time in its 326-year history as it tries to shore up a U.K. economic recovery that is facing the dual headwinds of the coronavirus and Brexit. After unanimously deciding to maintain the bank’s main interest rate at the record low of 0.1%, the nine-member rate-setting Monetary Policy Committee said it had discussed its “policy toolkit, and the effectiveness of negative policy rates in particular.”

Why French Politicians Can’t Stop Talking About Crime (NYT) In the Babel Tower of French politics, everyone agrees at least on this: Crime is out of control. The leader of the far right warned recently that France was a “security shipwreck” sinking into “barbarity.” A traditional conservative conjured up the ultraviolent dystopia of “A Clockwork Orange.” On the left, the presumed Green Party candidate in the next presidential contest described the insecurity as “unbearable.” And in the middle, President Emmanuel Macron’s ministers warned of a country “turning savage”—the “ensauvagement” of France—as they vowed to get tough on crime and combat the “separatism” of radical Muslims. The only catch? Crime isn’t going up. The government’s own data show that nearly all major crimes are lower than they were a decade ago or three years ago. But like elsewhere, and mirroring the campaign in the United States, the debate over crime tends to be a proxy—in France’s case, for debates about immigration, Islam, race, national identity and other combustible issues that have roiled the country for years.

India’s coronavirus cases jump by another 96K (AP) India’s coronavirus cases jumped by another 96,424 infections in the past 24 hours, showing little sign of leveling. The Health Ministry on Friday raised the nation’s total past 5.21 million, 0.37% of its nearly 1.4 billion people. India is expected to have the highest national total of confirmed cases within weeks, surpassing the United States, where more than 6.67 million people have been infected. India’s Prime Minister Narendra Modi on his birthday on Thursday made a fresh appeal to people to wear masks and maintain social distance as his government chalked out plans to handle big congregations expected during a major Hindu festival season beginning next month.

Russia boosts its military presence near Chinese border (Foreign Policy) Russia is bolstering its troop presence in the country’s east in response to growing geopolitical threats in the region, though the Kremlin did not say what those threats are. Defense Minister Sergei Shoigu said that 500 units of new, advanced equipment were being sent to the region, but he did not specify the destination. The moves are likely a response to China’s growing assertiveness, though some parts of the region have been gripped by protests against the government of President Vladimir Putin in recent weeks. In July, people took to the streets in the city of Khabarovsk, which lies along the border with China, after the arrest of the region’s hugely popular governor, Sergei Furgal, who beat out Putin’s favored candidate in an election in September 2018.

Taiwan scrambles air force as multiple Chinese jets buzz island (Reuters) Taiwan scrambled fighter jets on Friday as multiple Chinese aircraft buzzed the island, including crossing the sensitive mid-line of the Taiwan Strait, in an escalation of tensions the same day a senior U.S. official began meetings in Taipei. Earlier on Friday, China’s Defence Ministry announced the start of combat drills near the Taiwan Strait, denouncing what it called collusion between the Chinese-claimed island and the United States. Beijing has watched with growing alarm the ever-closer relationship between Taipei and Washington, and has stepped up military exercises near the island, including two days of mass air and sea drills last week.

Apprehensive Thais await major political rally in Bangkok (AP) A two-day rally planned this weekend is jangling nerves in Bangkok, with apprehension about how far student demonstrators will go in pushing demands for reform of Thailand’s monarchy and how the authorities might react. In an escalation of tactics, organizers plan to march to Government House, the prime minister’s offices, to hand over petitions. The initial demands of the alliance of groups behind a series of anti-government demonstrations were for a dissolution of Parliament with fresh elections, a new constitution and an end to intimidation of political activists. But the main organizers behind this weekend’s rally have been promoting an additional point. They want restraints on the power of the monarchy, an institution long presented as the nation’s cornerstone and untouchable. This open challenge to the palace has dramatically raised the political temperature.

‘Boiling again’: Lebanon’s old rivalries rear up amid crisis (Reuters) An old rivalry between Christian factions who fought each other in Lebanon’s 1975-1990 civil war has flared again on the street and in political debate, renewing fears of fresh unrest as the nation grapples with its worst crisis since the conflict. The feud between supporters of Michel Aoun, now Lebanon’s president, and Samir Geagea’s Lebanese Forces (LF) led to a tense standoff this week near Beirut. Gunshots rang out, but no one was hurt. The rivalry today is about more than Christian politics: Aoun is allied with Hezbollah, the heavily armed, Iran-backed Shi’ite party. Geagea spearheads opposition to Hezbollah, saying it should surrender its weapons. The standoff was the latest in a country that has seen sporadic violence intensify as an economic crisis that erupted last year has deepened. It was compounded by a huge blast that ripped through Beirut on Aug. 4. The government has resigned and efforts to form a new one under French pressure are floundering. “The security situation is reaching a breaking point,” said Mohanad Hage Ali of the Carnegie Middle East Center.

Israelis Prepare to Celebrate the Year’s Holiest Days Under Lockdown (NYT) As Israelis prepare to celebrate the holiest days on the Jewish calendar under a fresh lockdown, organizing prayer services is proving to be more of a mathematical brainteaser than a spiritual exercise. Rabbis are having to arrange worshipers into clusters of 20 to 50, separated by dividers, determining the number and size of the groups based on complex calculations involving local infection rates, and how many entrances and square feet their synagogues have. Masks will be required, and many seats will have to remain empty. The three-week national lockdown was timed to coincide with the Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur holy days and the festival of Sukkot, in the hope of causing less economic damage because business slows down in any case around the holidays. It was also aimed at preventing large family meals that could become petri dishes for the virus. Israel successfully limited the spread of the virus in the spring, but recently its infection rate has spiraled into one of the world’s worst. The country has had more than 300 confirmed new cases per 100,000 people over the last week—more than double the rate in Spain, the hardest-hit European country, and quadruple that of the United States.

Violence in Ethiopia (Foreign Policy) More than 30 people were killed in militia attacks in western Ethiopia last week, officials said on Thursday, underscoring the country’s worsening security situation and creating new problems for Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed. The attackers are “groups aimed at overturning the reforms journey,” Abiy said in a tweet. Abiy entered government promising sweeping reforms of the country’s political system, but his efforts have since faced criticism from opponents and former allies. Last week, the country’s Tigray region held parliamentary elections despite the national government’s decision to postpone the vote over coronavirus concerns. The region is home to the Tigray People’s Liberation Front, the country’s dominant political force before Abiy’s takeover in 2019.

[animatedarchives]

trust • trust fall (part i) || bakugo x reader

a/n: hi dear, yes you absolutely can!! this turned out a LOT longer than i anticipated it to be because i couldn’t stop writing LOL anyway i really hope you enjoy it :) i’m so sorry if this is not what you wanted ;-; also please prepare yourself for bakugo absolutely cHuGgiNg his respect woman juice skkjmcknscsk

► genre: ANGSTTT, fLuFfy aT thE EnD i love soft katsuki ;-;

► warnings: mentions of cheating

► word count: 1.2k words

“Izuku… Why?”

“I’m sorry Y/N… I didn’t know how to tell you…”

“Am I not good enough? Is that it? Is that why you cheated on me? Is there someone better?”

“I… I’m sorry Y/N…”

“Wait, don’t leave! Izuku, wait! Please! Please…”

You’ve been replaying the conversation over and over in your head for the past hour, each time failing to find the answer to your question.

Why? Why did you leave me?

The poor condition of the abandoned hallway you were in mirrored your despair; paint peeling off the walls, windows coated with grime and the dusty ground on which you sat in melancholy.

You leaned your head back against the wall, desperately trying to pull yourself together. You felt and looked like an absolute wreck. Your hair that was perfectly styled this morning was now disheveled, acting as a curtain that attempted to shield you from the hurts of the world. The trails on your cheeks held traces of all the tears you had shed. Your throat was parched for water and your eyes burned from the overproduction of saline.

Well, at least no one is here to see you like thi-

“Oi.”

Crap.

“What the hell are you doing here, sitting on the floor like a damn idiot?”

You have got to be joking. The universe just had to give you someone you knew. You shifted your body so that your back was facing him and swiftly wiped your eyes in a pitiful attempt to hide your misery.

“Oi! Don’t ignore me when I’m talking to you, shitface!” he spat.

“Dammit, Bakugo! Can you just mind your own business and leave me the hell alone?” you yelled over your shoulder.

You’ve never been very close to Bakugo and usually just tried to avoid him. It wasn’t because you hated him - because you didn’t - but you weren’t exactly very fond of him either. You just never appreciated the way he treated your now ex-boyfriend. Being fiercely protective of him, you were always the first one to come to Izuku’s defence and never backed down from a fight - whether verbal or physical - even if it was against Bakugo, one of the strongest, most hot-headed people in class. After multiple scoldings from Iida and your teachers, you decided it would be best to just avoid him altogether.

Eventually, as time went on and your relationship with Izuku began to get more serious, Bakugo’s bullying began to cease and he also started to keep his distance from the two of you. You found it slightly unusual at first, given he had years to stop picking on Izuku but chose not to until now. You weren’t complaining though. Whenever you and Izuku were together, you would also catch him glaring daggers at the two of you, more so at Izuku, but he never approached. You knew it wasn’t because he was afraid of you - he was hardly afraid of anything. Could it be that he possibly respected you for standing up to him? Your curiosity reaped no answers. Not that you cared much, but it would be a lie to say you weren’t interested in knowing the reason for his change in behaviour.

After your outburst, Bakugo’s footsteps stopped about three metres away from your curled up body, letting a tense silence settle between you. Even with your back turned, you could feel his eyes locked on your frame, watching your every move.

“Look, I don’t know what your damn problem is but if you think you can tell me what to do, you’d better think again,” his voice dripping with annoyance.

Oh my god, why was he so persistent? Could he not just go away? Your blood started to boil and the heat rushed to your face.

“Stop acting so weak and pathetic-”

“YOU KNOW WHAT BAKUGO,” you snapped, standing up and finally facing him. Bakugo’s eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight of your tear-stained face, but he didn’t look away. “YOU’RE RIGHT. MAYBE THAT REALLY IS WHAT I AM. WEAK AND PATHETIC.”

Bakugo opened his mouth but you cut him off.

“I’m constantly there for others and I always try to give everyone my all but in the end, who’s there for me? No one! I’m always the one that’s suffering, but people don’t notice because no one actually stops to think about me!”

“But Deku-”

“IZUKU CHEATED ON ME!” your cries echoed down the empty hallway. Hearing yourself say it out loud finally cemented the reality you were denying for so long. A lump started to form in your throat and you could feel your eyes starting to well up with tears again.

Bakugo’s body became stiff, a million thoughts running through his mind. You could have sworn you saw his eyes flash with anger, but you couldn’t see clearly through the thin film impairing your vision.

You choked out a sob. “I thought that someone had finally accepted me, finally acknowledged that I was worthy of being loved. But in the end, even the person I gave my everything to thought I wasn’t good enough.” You inhaled deeply and let out a shaky breath. You couldn’t cry in front of him. You wouldn’t. A wave of exhaustion finally hit you and you slid back down against the wall, curling into a ball and resting your chin on your knees. You were just so tired of everything.

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you this,” you laughed bitterly. “It’s not like you even care anyway.” You watched as an ant crawled across the space between you and Bakugo. Even ants had a colony, others they could depend on. And you? You had nobody.

“I do.”

Your train of thought came to a screeching halt as his words reached your ears. Your eyebrows furrowed and you raised your head to look up at him through your wet lashes. You had been here for so long that the sun was beginning to set, bathing Bakugo in a soft peachy glow.

“What?” you asked.

He looked at you straight in the eye, unflinching.

“I said I do,” he repeated. “I do care. About you.”

You blinked at him once. Twice. Three times. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Bakugo Katsuki, the last person in the world you thought you would be pouring your heart out to, just said he cared about you.

“Don’t lie,” you scoffed.

“Tch, I’m not lying, you idiot. You just don’t want to accept it,” he replied flatly.

Well, how could you? Words were just words after all. Izuku consistently told you that he loved you and still he shattered your heart. Trusting people just wouldn’t be so easy anymore. Your disbelief became apparent when you broke his gaze and pulled your knees closer to your chest.

He let out an exasperated sigh. “You never let me finish, by the way,” he said. You made no move to respond, but you were listening to every word he was saying, weighing the sincerity of each one.

“I said stop acting so weak and pathetic, not because you are, but because it is everything you are not.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe him so bad but you couldn’t find the heart to.

“You have never backed down when it came to protecting Deku against me. You weren’t afraid to stand up and challenge me. In fact, you are always at the frontlines, defending people you care so deeply about. That doesn’t make you weak. It shows that you’re strong. Putting others before yourself is a trait that every great hero has. And I admired you for that. A lot.”

Your mind was whirring. Not only were the things he was saying difficult to believe, but the words coming out of Bakugo's own mouth being anything but foul was so terrifyingly uncharacteristic of him that you couldn’t possibly believe it was true.

“Which is why…” he muttered, so softly that you almost didn’t catch it. You waited for him to finish his sentence but he never did.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye and saw him looking at the floor. You had never seen Bakugo this vulnerable before. Oh, how the tables had turned.

“Which is why…?” you urged him to continue. You weren’t sure if it was the radiant sun that gave a reddish tint to his cheeks or if you were actually witnessing the infamously brash Bakugo Katsuki blushing.

“Which is why I li…” he mumbled, the end of his sentence dissipating due to lack of articulation.

“Why what?” you asked again, mildly irritated that he wouldn’t just spit it out.

He groaned loudly.

“WHICH IS WHY I LIKE YOU, DAMMIT!” he finally admitted, raising his voice as he turned to look straight at you.

Your eyes widened so much you thought your eyeballs were going to pop out of their sockets. You didn’t even bother hiding the shock on your face. This was simply incomprehensible.

But the more you mulled it over, the more it started to make sense. The explanation for Bakugo’s behaviour towards you and Izuku could finally be explained: he was jealous. Seeing you with anyone but himself infuriated him, especially if it was the boy who was effortlessly gaining everything he had ever wanted. That was why Bakugo continued tormenting Izuku, only he never expected it would be you that he would end up fighting as you stepped in to defend your boyfriend. As your relationship became more serious, Bakugo was forced to step back out of respect, but he never stopped glowering whenever he saw you two together. The reason he stopped tormenting Izuku was not because he was afraid of you, nor was it because he respected your determination to defend the boy you loved. It was because it would break his heart to be the cause of your distress. Everything he did… was because of you.

“WELL? Don’t just give me that stupid look! Say something!” he shouted in frustration, desperate for an answer.

Part of you felt relieved to see Bakugo return to his familiar aggressive self, but another part somehow knew that he was only doing it to cover up the fact that he was deeply embarrassed. The thought made a small smile tug at the corner of your lips. You valued the fact that he trusted you enough to let his guard down.

And you wanted to trust him too. But with everything that had happened, you just weren’t sure if you were ready to put your heart on the line again. Your eyebrows knitted together in concentration as you tried to form a coherent string of words that could accurately express everything you thought and felt.

He watched intently as you bit your lower lip and fiddled nervously with the hem of your skirt. Although the suspense was eating him alive, he respected the fact that you needed to collect your thoughts and waited patiently for your answer. Besides, it meant that you were seriously considering his confession, which was all he could have hoped for. Finally, you got to your feet and made your way over to him, his crimson eyes never leaving yours.

“Bakugo…” you started gently. He might have seemed collected on the outside, but his heart was beating impeccably fast and his anxiety levels were off the charts.

“I really appreciate your honesty but… I’m just really unsure. It’s not that I don’t want to trust you but…” you exhaled shakily. “I’m just scared. I can’t just keep giving my heart to people I’m not sure would treasure it… I just can’t. I need to protect myself too. I don’t want my heart to get broken again. I-”

He grabbed your face and pressed his lips against yours, cutting you off. Caught by surprise, you weren’t sure how to respond. But as he kissed you, you could feel how much he meant every single thing he said. Suddenly, they weren’t just words anymore.

The kiss was soft and gentle as if he were afraid to hurt you, especially when you were already in so much pain. Yet, he never lacked passion, because he wanted to prove how true his feelings were for you. But above all, the kiss… his love…

It was sincere.

Genuine.

Honest.

You melted into the kiss, hesitant at first but eventually willing to give love another try.

Bakugo broke the kiss and leaned back to admire the face he thought was so beautiful. His strong hands traced down your face to your shoulders and finally came to a rest at your arms, rubbing your skin soothingly.

“You’re right, you know. You can’t just give your heart to people. If you do, you’re bound to get heartbroken,” he said.

You frowned and stared forlornly at your feet, unsure of what to say. You knew he was right but you couldn’t help it. All you ever wanted was to be loved. To matter to someone.

“Which is why,” he took your chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting your head up to look at him. For the first time, you saw his eyes up close. They weren’t the blazing hot embers everyone associated with his rageful and dangerous behaviour. Right now, under the warmth of the setting sun, they were the soft comfort of red satin that whispered a love so pure, you couldn’t help but feel enraptured by them. His eyes burned, but it was far from malicious. They burned with desire for one thing alone. 

You.

“I will do whatever it takes to earn it.”

[magewardensurana]

For your writing prompts! Ema/Maya, chocolate?

Sorry this took awhile!

Ema knocked on the door to the Wright Anything Agency, but didn’t wait for an answer before she pushed it open.  It was business hours, after all.

“Mr Wright?” she said, not looking up from the folder she was absorbed in reading.  "I was wondering if you could take a look at - Oh.“  She stopped when she did look up, and saw that the person in the office was not Phoenix Wright, or his daughter, or Athena Cykes.

“Heya, Ema!” The woman greeted her with a bright smile and a wave.

Maya Fey.  It was always a slightly awkward moment running into a highly attractive old friend.  Even more awkward when the last few interactions had involved murders, arrests, testimonies and cross examinations.

“Maya, hello.  I wasn’t expecting -” The folder got transferred to under her right arm and her left hand automatically went for the bag of snackadoos.  "Have you been in LA long?“  That seemed like a safe topic choose.

“Just a few days.  Probably be here a few more.  With Trucy in her senior year and Apollo in Khura'in, Nick’s a little short staffed.  So I said I’d help out for a bit.”

“What about Miss Cykes?”  Ema’s mind had gone blank of anything except the most inane of small talk.  She suddenly wished she had a crime scene to examine (not that she wanted the Agency to be the scene of yet another crime.  It was more a desire for a general crime scene) or a testimony to give. Forensics would give her something to talk about, and distract her from the fact that she hadn’t washed her hair in several days and her lab coat still had that stain on it from last week.

“Thena’s running way more trials now, and Nick’s taking the whole mentor thing really seriously.”  Maya grinned, “Doesn’t really like me reminding him of the days when he couldn’t get through one trial without yelling for Sis to help.  So, it’s time for the real head of Wright and Co. to take her rightful place in the office again.”

Ema untucked the folder from under her arm.  "I’ll just leave this here, then,“ she said, slipping the folder on the desk.  "If you could ask Mr Wright to look at it.  It’s not important, just something I thought he’d find interesting.”

She turned to go.

“Ema, wait.”  Maya was leaning over her desk, her hand on Ema’s arm.  "It’s been ages since we spoke properly.  And arrests and cross examinations don’t count as a proper reunion.“

Ema blushed, and Maya sighed.  "Is that why you’re acting so weird?  Look, if I held a grudge against everyone who accused me of murder or testified against me I’d have no friends except Nick.”

Ema managed to smile in return. 

“I am sorry about that.  I could’ve got you and Mr Wright killed.”

“It’s no problem.  Happens all the time.  Come on, I was about to make hot chocolate.”

The kitchen at the Wright Anything Agency was still well stocked despite the fact that the Wrights no longer lived there.  Maya found milk and a saucepan, measured out the milk and put it on the stove to boil.

“Milk?”  Ema asked, surprised.

“Yeah.  What else would I use?  Water?” Maya slipped a glass disk into the pan.  She caught sight of Ema’s guilty expression.

“Oh, Ema…”

“What?  It’s quick and less work.  That efficiency is necessary for the busy working woman.”

“If you want to kill all the taste.  Also, that’s coco.”

“What’s the difference? In scientific terms, please.”

“S-scientific, huh?”  Maya frowned, thinking.

Ema rolled her eyes.  "Look at the basic nature of things, Maya”

They stared at each other for a moment, then Maya shook her head.  "This is all sounding way too familiar.  Besides, if I used water then I think Sis would channel herself into me and throw it all out.“

It was still strange to hear Maya so casually talk about spirit channelling, despite everything Ema knew of the Feys and had seen in Khura'in.

“Do you speak to your sister often?”

“Not as much as I used to,” Maya replied, rummaging through the cupboard to find the chocolate flakes.  "We spoke loads before I went to Khura'in, though.“

"How… exactly do you talk?”

“Is this your scientific curiosity?” Maya asked, a tub of chocolate flakes in her hand.  She added a generous amount to each mug and stirred in some cold milk.  "And it’s not that difficult.  Either we write notes to each other, or Pearly channels Sis and we talk face to face.“

Ema considered this.  Scientifically she knew spirit channelling was impossible, but empirical evidence said otherwise.

"It must be nice,” was what she managed.  She thought about her own parents, a man and a woman she barely remembered, and wondered what it would be like to see them again.

“I guess.  We haven’t talked since I turned twenty seven.  It just -” Maya shrugged, and stirred the milk and chocolate flake mixture again.  Ema tried to think of a way to change the subject.

“Did you know I didn’t actually realise our sisters were dating?" 

Maya laughed.  "Yeah, I know.  Sis and I had a bet going on how long it would take for you to realise.”

“I was pretty focused on my school work.”

“Emaaaaa.  They were living together.  In your house.”

There was a rattling of the glass dish as the milk came to the boil.  Maya poured the milk into the mugs and added a whipped cream and a sprinkling of marshmallows to each.  "Ta-da!  Maya’s Super Special Hot Chocolate!“

"It shall be drunk,” Ema replied, reaching up to adjust her glasses, “In the name of science.  You proposed the hypothesis that this is superior to water-made hot chocolate.  I intend to test this.  Scientifically.”

“I intend to drink it ‘cause it’s delicious.  Later I’ll probably test the hypnosis that whipped cream straight from the can to my mouth is just as good as adding it to food.”

The mental image of Maya Fey and whipped cream caused a small and sudden coughing fit from Ema.

“You okay, Ema?”

“I’m… fine.” Ema replied, running through the periodic table in her head to refocus her thoughts.  "Let’s go drink, shall we?“

They took their drinks over to the office’s couch, Maya curling up on her seat with the comfortable familiarity of someone who had thought of the place as a home for a long time.  Ema studied her over the top of her mug.  They’d known each other a long time, but then lost touch after Lana ended things with Mia.  Despite their mutual defence lawyer friend they hadn’t properly reconnected until just a few months ago.  And now they were drinking hot chocolate and talking like the years of separation had never happened.

Romance was not Ema’s strong suit.  In wasn’t that she lacked experience in the field.  More that her usual approach was impossible.  Dating wasn’t something that could be treated scientifically.  What worked with one person wasn’t guaranteed to work with another.  Each partner required a whole new set of formulae.  Klavier hadn’t been Kay, and Maya wasn’t Klavier (which she was very grateful for since being interested in one Klavier Gavin had been bad enough), so there was no reference to draw on.  No way of telling if her interest was requited.

"Did you know,” Maya said, breaking the silence.  "Meeting your sister really helped me.“

"Oh?”

“I’d only ever really had Sis to compare myself to.  So I figured there was something wrong with me ‘cause I didn’t like guys.  Kurain is really, really straight and Sis liked girls, buuuuuuuut she also liked guys.  So it wasn’t until I met Lana that I realised it could be a thing.”  Ema didn’t realise she’d been staring at Maya until the other woman blushed, then pouted.

“Shit.  You did know I’m gay, right?”

“A little hard to miss,” Ema replied, wryly.  "We were mutuals on tumblr, remember? You url was mayagay and your description was ‘I’m a lesbian and I like Steel Samurai’.“

"Still is.  And it’s still true.  So, what was with all the staring, then?”

“It’s just - I went through the exact same thing.  Growing up my only frame of reference was a lot of heterosexual people and Lana.  So I thought attraction was an either/or deal, and that I was an outlier.  Then I met Mia, and adjusted my theory to fit the new information.”

“Y'know, a quick Google search would’ve given us the same answers.”

“True.”

Maya raised her mug in a toast.  "Here’s to being a couple of really weird kids.“

Very carefully, so she didn’t dislodge any of the marshmallows or whipped cream, Ema accepted the toast.

[kyberled]

😰

Send me 😰 for a glimpse at one of my muse’s nightmares! || Accepting

It’s dark. That’s the first thing he notices. A dark, inky black that seemed to go on as far as the eye could see– Or, couldn’t see, in this case. He tries to move, and hears the sound of something thick and viscous flowing around him, like bubbling tar. Movement itself was difficult, but he felt calm. He could breathe, he didn’t seem to be in any immediate danger, and, aside from being a bit warm, he felt just fine, so, out of all the times he’d been captured, or situations he’d found himself in, this was hardly the worst. For a moment, he idly swam in the darkness as though treading water, churning legs and arms as though worried about sinking, though such a threat had not yet presented itself. He’s confused for a moment as to why he’s there, if there was nothing for him to do. Then, a faint noise sounded off to the left, and his head snapped to see what it was. He saw nothing at first, but brow furrowed and eyes squinted to try to make out any shapes in the dark. Curiosity dragged him to move to the sound, and he tried to swim at first, before he realised it was ridiculous, and simply walked.

His steps echoed, though off what, he couldn’t be sure, and a deep wooshing sound, like bellows, or a massive set of lungs breathing in and out. It was faint, at first, muffled, but grew in volume and clarity the further he progressed until it drowned out the sound of his own breath. He stopped, face scrunching in displeasure, and turned to see if he could find the source of the sound. One full circle later gave him no explanations, and he frowned. On a whim, he glanced to the floor, and noticed a faint circle of white radiating out from under his feet - a spotlight? - and then up, shielding his eyes from the sudden glare. Even then, he squinted, turning his eyes to the ground again. He didn’t seem to be casting a shadow, which he found strange, and, head tilting curiously to the side as he lifted his boot to see if that made a difference. Still no shadow was cast, but the floor stuck to the bottom of his boot like half-melted chewing gum, pulling up and stretching out in ink-black ribbons that tried to pull him back down, and confusion quickly boiled into alarm as he tried to pull away. It was a struggle, but he managed, staggering back and trying to calm his breathing. Another spotlight flicked on, and once again, Braig flinched from the sudden light and raised his arm to shield his face. The breathing sound was almost deafening now, drowning out any attempt at coherent thought he could have made. Perhaps this was why it took him a moment to realise that the twin lights overhead had gotten bigger. No, that wasn’t quite right - they hadn’t gotten bigger, they’d gotten…. Closer?

The lights flicked off in unison, coming on again just as quickly, almost like they were—

Eyes.

Not flickering, blinking.

He felt his entire body go cold under the realisation, even as the twin points of light overhead seemed to dim, yellow as though ageing, before two dinner-plate sized pupils of a swampy yellow-green rolled into view, and the eyes seemed to balloon outwards. Their glow gave the faintest, diseased illumination to a towering, serpentine body, coiled in preparation to strike and oozing a translucent mucus that dripped down to the floor, and a gaping maw opened in four directions to reveal a salivating cavern of sarlacc-like teeth, and the massive worm let out a deafening screech that made the entire ground shake in terror and silenced the phantom breathing in an instant. Braig was nearly thrown off balance, but managed to steady himself in a frantic movement as he looked up again, just in time to see those disgusting eyes burst, showering him in a spray of putrid, suffocating sludge. Without giving him a chance to react, the worm lunged. Even if he’d had time to move, he wouldn’t have been able to, cemented to the floor as he was, and he could only raise his arms in futile defence as dripping, fetid daggers closed in around him– And missed.

Braig looked up, eyes wide and face pale, as the titanic worm burrowed its way into the pitch below. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest like it was trying to break his ribs. He swallowed, and hesitated for a moment, tugging at his scarf before shakily trying to pull himself free from the floor again.

After a bit of struggling, surrounded by nothing but silence, he managed to get loose, and turned, never taking his eyes off of the cavern the worm had left in its wake. He took a few steps back, stopping only when his back bumped against something solid and cold, and he turned to see a towering wall of what appeared to be rugged, ancient sandstone. His eyes followed the wall, and it crackled and rumbled as the stone grew in time with the movement of his eyes, surrounding, encasing in a tomb that had passed the definition of ‘claustrophobic’ and kept running. He looked around, searching with increasing desperation for a way out, bracing his palms against the unyielding surface and coming back with nothing. He had to force himself to keep his breathing even - it’s okay, you’re okay, just keep your breathing regulated and conserve oxygen until you can find a way–

A thunderous crash as the wall he was facing imploded, and the shrill screams of the worm ripped through the stone. Braig found himself being thrown through the air, colliding with something rough and solid as the creature coiled around him, constricting and restraining and suffocating and he thrashed, even with arms pinned at his sides, trying to reach for lightsabers that had been at his hips a moment ago, hadn’t they? But no weapons could be reached and he couldn’t move, anyway, could only wait as the massive beast loomed its jaws over him, its ropey saliva dripping down the back of his neck and sizzling as it oozed under the collar of his shirt. Rotten breath spilled over him as jaws began to close, and he closed his eyes, helpless to prevent his own demise–

A flash of blue interrupted the encroaching fangs, and the worm reared back and howled its fury and anguish before collapsing, limp, in a cloud of dust. Braig pulled himself free frantically, wiping the mucus from his face and half-stumbling, half-sliding his way down the worm’s carcass to see who had been his saviour. 

“Cody!” He exclaimed, relief heavy in his voice as the familiar painted armour stepped through the darkness, blaster cocked easily over his shoulder. Braig rushed forward eagerly, glad to see a friend amidst the discordant chaos that surrounded them in the strange, dark place, and paused just long enough for Cody to fire another shot, just to be safe, at the worm, before twirling the weapon once and holstering it. As soon as the blaster was away, Braig threw his arms around the Commander, holding on tightly.

“You have no idea how glad I am to see you,” he said, willing himself to relax, and nearly managed, as Cody’s hand came to rest lightly on the back of Braig’s head. The gentle touch changed as Cody’s body suddenly tensed, hands shaking violently as he started clawing at his helmet. 

“Cody…?” Braig asked, taking a half-step back, nerves prickling with unease as shoulders drew back and hands migrated to the weapons at his hips. Cody managed to tear his helmet off after a moment, pitching forward as though about to collapse to his knees. Braig caught him largely by instinct, but had to adjust his stance to avoid collapsing under the dead weight of his friend’s body. Braig freed one of his arms and reached out to brush his palm over Cody’s hair when the Commander’s head snapped up and Braig recoiled.

That wasn’t Cody’s face.

It was the girl.

The burned little girl he’d pulled out of the smouldering ruins on one of his first missions.

Her melted, deformed mouth stretched into a raspy wail, the scorched black sockets that had once held eyes staring straight through Braig as the thing continued its agonised cries. 

He wasn’t sure, but he thought he could make out words in her screams - ‘why’, repeated over and over until it blended into a cacophonous screech why why why why whywhwywhywhywhyWHYWHWYWHY mixed with a question, where were you when we needed you, where were you when they came for us, WHERE WERE YOU? and he dropped the not-Cody and scrambled backwards, staggering when he felt the ground under his heel give way. He glanced over his shoulder only to regain his balance before jerking back to the demon before him–

Its face had changed, back to the loyal Commander Braig had known for so long, and he looked… Betrayed? Through the bruises slowly, inexplicably blooming across Cody’s face, behind the blood slowly dripping from his mouth and nose, his expression seemed to ask the same questions. Why, where were you, why why why why was this happening? Cody wasn’t dead, he couldn’t be, Braig had seen him just the other day, and they hadn’t had any missions since then, so there was no way that he… 

The ground gave way beneath his feet, and he only just managed to catch himself on some invisible ledge, though his hands were slipping, with sickly red bubbling between his fingers, smearing along the ground as he scrabbled for purchase. Looking down did nothing, as everything was still an endless void, and looking back up only showed him Cody’s collapsed form, and… A familiar pair of boots, soft brown leather, and he looked up with another wave of relief when he recognised his master. He opened his mouth to call out, but, once again, relief died when he saw the apparition’s face.

There was no burnt flesh, no mangled features, no phantom injuries. No, what he saw on his master’s face was worse.

He saw only indifference, and disgust. 

Even as he felt himself slipping further to the abyss below, he felt frozen for a moment, and only snapped out of it when he realised he was about to fall, once more struggling to hold himself up despite the blood oozing from his hands. He opened his mouth to call out to his master, but, try as he might, no sound would come out. He re-adjusted his arms as he tried again, growing increasingly more panicked in his movements and attempts at vocalisation as he remained inexplicably mute. Scrabbling turned to desperate clawing, even as he was sure the blood on his hands was starting to come from shredded fingertips and his throat was ripped raw with silent screams for help, acknowledgement, anything. Obi-Wan offered no sympathy, only continued to stare as though Braig were some unpleasant insect before walking past Cody’s limp body and stepping out past Braig. In the hopes of finding another ledge for purchase, or a response, he reached out with one arm for his master– Found only air–

Fell. 

He sat up suddenly, breath coming in shallow gasps, and it took him a moment to realise he was in his cell. He wiped a hand down his face, pulled it away - coated in nothing but sweat. He wasn’t sure what he expected to see, there, couldn’t remember the dream. He glanced towards the door, wondering if he should go to Obi-Wan, but thought better of it, and only swallowed to clear the aching in his throat as he gathered his worn old plush cat - a gift from an old friend - into his arms, pressing his face into threadbare faux fur. 

He didn’t go to sleep again, that night.

[ecotone99]

[RF] Whistle-blowers (A WikiLeaks Fanfic) Chapter 2

The Solitude Before the Tempest Toss

In a concrete dungeon of four, hard, scream-proof walls, cut off from the world, & alone, lied a tortured & broken soul, on an equally hard surface – though it felt harder. A nightmare made reality. The aching body & weary mind belonged to Chelsea Manning, while the boiling blood & the fighting spirit belonged to us all.

She awoke from a restless sleep, finding herself in the same position she had been in, when she first closed her eyes. Her body had naturally fallen into the recovery-position shortly after being, almost literally, thrown into her cell. The narrow surface of her bed only barely accommodated her slender form. Chelsea’s way of coping with being shut-in for 22 hours a day was to sleep. Unfortunately, in a room that knew no change in light or sound, it was hard to keep abreast of time at the best of times, but when frequent napping was used in order to best manage the torture of solitary confinement, all sense of time was lost.

She alternated between sleeping & exercising while in her cell, but her mind was still not stimulated enough most of the day… or night.

She was wide awake now, but did not alter her position. The less she moved, the bigger the room appeared to be. She tried thinking of ways to distract, or entertain herself. She didn’t want to relive past memories, as if playing home movies in her head, as the current situation has a way of imprinting itself on a memory whenever said memory is recalled for perusal.

Her own brain took her by surprise when a song floated in from an unknown corner of her mind. It was the type that wouldn’t be satisfied unless sung aloud. So, after some time of the same tune going round and around, like a goldfish in its bowl, it finally rose up her throat & sprouted through her lips, like a rose’s blossom. And it was as sweet as one in too. The tune lifted into the air & expanded into every nook & cranny of the small room, until all the space had been filled, after which it burst forth into the hall, almost drowning out the approaching footsteps.

The only time anyone even got near her door was to either feed and water her, or let her out temporarily at a set time every day, if she had “behaved”. They never came if you called, cried, or screamed, no matter how loud, or for how long.

A skeleton-key jingled for a moment & then clanked within the lock, before creaking as it turned, signalling its opening mechanism. Next, the bolts around the doorframe were unfastened. Normally when this happened Chelsea would spring to her feet, not wanting to waste any of what precious time she was allotted outside her cell in a day, even though it was only 2 hours. During those 2 hours she was allowed to make personal phone calls & attend to hygiene needs. On those occasions the guard would usually tell her, through the door, to assume the conventional pose: facing the far wall, with her hands behind her back. But not this time.

The hard door swung open & the heavy boots stepped in. What could only be the prison guard, though Chelsea made no effort to confirm with even a passing glance, did not move from that spot. He had come in, no doubt, to bark at her for singing, & who knows what else. It was always something, even if it needed to be invented. But not this time. This time, there was nothing. Again Chelsea was taken aback by this remission in routine. Curiouser & curiouser. Her eyes tentatively peered out from under their lids in order to scrutinise her intruder, who appeared to be studying her in return.

He was of tall, solid stature & in his thirties. His facial composition was plain & not one to reveal much. His expression was like that of a man looking at a woman in the prone position. She didn’t know him, but this was not unusual. There was a high-turnover rate among guards.

“Don’t stop”, his bassy timbre bellowed, without warning. The abrupt command gave her a start. She hadn’t noticed that she had stopped singing. The tune had continued playing uninterrupted in her head regardless. She obeyed & resumed her tune from the point at which it was playing in her head. She watched his face as she did so. What it expressed was an incongruity with its surroundings, caused by her song, which was a sound, an expression of its own that too was discordant with its time & place.

The drudgery of patrolling, & with it, it’s attitude of resolute solemnity was slowed to a halt, & in its place materialised an appreciation of her authentic beauty. He was mesmerised by her. Her eyes lowered to his pants, as if her stare could coax his rigidity out of its flaccid state. Almost unconsciously she began to slowly turn her lower half away from him, while arching her back, gradually lifting her arse. After it was fully distended, she began bucking her hips, just as slowly. First in, then out. In his eyes the subtle signs of arousal had transformed into a blazing fire of desire. Her own body began to respond to the light, rhythmic caresses of her garments against her intimate areas. She had to start taking sharper intakes of breath between notes. In has pants, his member was swelling, until it strained against the fabric that secured its length in place. It snaked along the front of the left side of his hip, hugging it. Spurred on by want, he approached her writhing body. She bit her lip. He licked his. Her song was transforming into a series of sighs and breathy moans. His bulge was very close to her arse. She could almost feel the heat emanating from it. He had stationed himself there, almost barely able to contain his yearning, yet he was not willing to advance further, lest his occupation was made forfeit. So that is where he remained. His heavy chest heaved. Her movements picked up in speed, testing him. His desire mounted, but physical contact did not follow.

This was the man Chelsea had been waiting for – one who desired her, yet had the self-control not to act on that desire, despite her invitations. Other guards, in the past, had either been one, or the other, but now she had found her perfectly balanced man. A man who had principles, strength, could stand for something, while wielding a burning passion.

Chelsea let out one last sigh, but this time one that signalled despondency. As if deflated, her bottom sunk back into its original position – motionless. Her wanton expression drained from her face, leaving a look of peaceful dejection in its place.

“Is something wrong?” the hormone-logged male inquired.

“I have no speech”, Chelsea responded, being deliberately cryptic.

“You have a beautiful singing voice. I never knew.”

Chelsea blushed “I don’t share it with just anyone.”

“I guess I’m lucky. It’s enough to drive a red-blooded man insane.”

“I’m glad you kept your composure, it means you can stay. And share in… well, what we shared together. But I warn you it may not be as easy next time” She winked at him.

“I don’t know if that’s a bane or a blessing.”

“See it as a potentially fatal perk”, she giggled, evilly.

“Man, you’ll get a guy in trouble.”

“Can you do me the tinniest of favours?”

“Let’s hear it”

“Say my name”

“Your name?”

“Mmh.”

“Chelsea.”

Her name glided off his tongue, sending shivers down her spine. She relished the short, but sweet moment.

“Was that okay?”

Still reeling from the pacifying effect it had had on her, she responded: “Yes, thank you. I just wanted to feel human again, connected with myself again.”

“Happy to oblige.”

“Outside, the most visible trans-woman is Caitlyn Jenner. And I’m here. Invisible & muted. I have no online access, no journos can visit, & even if they could, I would be legally unable to talk, comment on, discuss, or even look at any of the material I helped leak.”

“You should have left this country when you had the chance.” He added, nonchalantly, as if it was a matter of fact. But she had never considered it before that moment. She had felt safe in her own country for some reason. Now she knew better. She was coming to a realisation. One of her original charges, for which her country threatened to kill her, was: ‘aiding the enemy’ – what enemy? It wasn’t a war, it was a massacre, the victims having no way of defending themselves. The butchers were the enemy – the same that had locked her up. Only villains lock up heroes. If only she had left the country when she was still free, as the guard had suggested. Then she would be free to talk about everything to an unbiased press.

Chelsea decided that it was now, or never. “Could you help me get a message out?”

“No, I’m sorry, Chelsea.”

His hormone levels were evening out again. He was sobering up. She would have to find that sweet spot again.

Coyly she asked: “Tell me your name?” No! No sooner had the words left her mouth, she had realised her mistake. She had made too many requests in too short amount of time.

“I’m sorry ma’am, that won’t be possible.”

Ma’am? Oh no, she thought. Her mistake was confirmed as one. The delicate spell she wove was in danger of breaking. His eyes shifted downwards. He was shaking his head & began shifting his weight away from her. She was losing him. Panicked, but with the need to act quickly she considered all her options. She had exhausted the sex-appeal option, since, if she had reintroduced that now, she would be viewed as inauthentic & manipulative. She could not make any movement that rose her from her position without rousing his defences even more than they already were. She finally decided to do what came naturally: turn her face away from him and begin sobbing.

“I’m really sorry, ma’am.” He drummed on.

She could feel his discomfort go up a notch. He began a more conscious retreat, but before committing 100% to this action, she undermined his agency with: “Just go. Please just go” she sniffed.

Shortly afterwards she heard the door shut behind him. As he was locking it back up, she threw away her inhibitions, her composure & vaulted out of bed & sprinted to the door, after which she began imploring him, overwrought:

“Promise me just one thing: look me up. When you get home, look me up. Look up Julian Assange. Follow WikiLeaks on Twitter! Follow Edward Snowden! Follow Suzie Dawson! Follow Jen Robinson! That will give you all the info you need. Please at least recommend this job to friends you trust! Spread the word! Please!”

His bolting of the door had been completed. He walked away without another word. Had he been listening? Only time would tell.

submitted by /u/SnowAssMan [link] [comments] via Blogger http://bit.ly/2GyBN0r