#it was a false alarm i was not fired. i do have projects again now

[fingertipsmp3]

I really need to get a proper job so I’ll be too tired to have insane ideas like “what if I learned 5 romance languages all at once”

[sadderbutwisergirrl]

Jim Hightower is an old pro at populist grass roots mobilization. We need to listen to this political elder!

“We’re collecting actions that grassroots people can take, and are collaborating with longtime friends and allies to light a fire under the butts of Democratic Party leaders. We’ll keep you updated on those efforts, but to start, here are two groups to join up with.

Demand Justice has been advocating for the Judiciary Act, which would expand the court by four seats. They’re asking people to call their representatives, and to join their rapid response team. https://demandjustice.org/

We’ve long been a fan of Lisa Graves (you can watch our 2022 Chat ‘n’ Chew episode with her here), and she’s teamed up with the folks at Court Accountability for a new round of intense actions called Justice Can’t Wait.

They’ve shared with us a list of things you can do:

Share the Justice Can’t Wait updated website. https://justicecantwait.org/#

Raise awareness of the seeds being planted by Trump and his allies to deny the results of the 2024 election if it doesn’t go their way. Trump has refused to commit to accepting legitimate election results if he does not win, and his allies are laying the groundwork for election denial through lawsuits and false claims about election fraud.

Urge Congress to pass reforms clarifying the Insurrection Act, which Trump plans to invoke to deploy the military against the American people, on his first day in office. https://www.brennancenter.org/our-work/analysis-opinion/trumps-insurrection-act-threat

Share Stand Up America’s Supreme Court Voter website, which aims to educate and mobilize voters on the impact the next president will have on the future of the U.S. Supreme Court. https://www.courtvoter.com/

Educate Americans on the economic threats that the extremist Project 2025 poses. Economic concerns “consistently rank as top issues among likely voters,” and people need to understand the likely consequences and chaos for our economy and American families if Project 2025 affiliates are able to carry out their dangerous agenda. (The NYT article was behind a paywall so I replaced it with this link) https://www.democracydocket.com/analysis/what-is-project-2025-and-why-is-it-alarming/

Join United for Democracy in calling on Congress to rein in the out-of-control Supreme Court. https://unitedfordemocracy.us/get-involved/

Drive home that this is Trump’s Supreme Court. Trump installed the corporatist majority that has taken away women’s fundamental freedoms and stripped away protections for Americans’ health and safety. Even after Trump led an insurrection, the Court that Trump built is now tipping the scales to help him win again in November and protect him from accountability for his actions.

From the Hightower staff: And let’s not forget how the Supremes view actual bribery: as nothing more than a tip or a token of thanks for a job well done. They’re basically creating loopholes to legalize their own corruption!

Stay tuned for more, and let us know what other concrete actions and organizations you’re hearing about—the comments on this post are open to all subscribers. Let’s do this!”

[millenial-net-utopia-2010]

I believe that if exclusion and choice became protected rights a number of potentially brilliant solutions might start emerging. Several schools which exclude via money and location are able to do better. British elite Private Schooling is still quite solid. The Grammars weren't allowed to discriminate on merit, but british leftists tolerate good schools excluding on money.

As I kind of alluded to in the Steiner thread, I think it'd be great if people could just make their own schools and we let the results speak for themselves. A spread of purpose oriented educations. Some already exist. We see fundamentalist islamist schooling for example. It produces human garbage. Fundamentalist Jew education. Human garbage. Steiner Schools. Weirdos. Christian Homeschooling communes. Weirdos who turn into gigahicklibs in reaction and then set themselves on fire for tiktok memes. Let humanity keep trying and someone will get it right.

You could say allowing so many potentially horrific failures to proliferate would be cruel. But my answer, the standard solution is already horrific. I would prefer free market insanity to top-down imposed monoculture insanity.

This is of course my solution for what we'll euphemistically call open societies of the 21st century. If any real country wanted to stabilise itself and operate as a national project again my answer would probably be to just recreate british grammar schooling and its peers.

-

Antice said: I would consider Gen Z gentle or retarded giants. Imagine the power they wield and how much more will come after the inverse birth pyramid will die out. Most of us grow up in one of the most peaceful times in the history of mankind. The schools aren't adapted to handle that. (So a silent reform is taking place.) Another rise of the politicalized classroom, the propagating teacher, war mongrels and profiteers. But my view on this matter could be influenced by the recent watching of 1864. So I mostly agree with Antoine.

As Einstein puts it: Education is what isn't forgotten. My take on schools is: You get everything needed for most jobs and can forget the things you don't at the door. But I'm frustrated about how much time everything takes/needs and try my best to simply accelerate things. ...

The only system I trust, is the one where I can make up my own options. (Server rules; If god forbids, it would not be possible)

(It's always impossible until someone does it) ...

Since god is dead, we kill idols (influencers) at an alarming rate. I heard a quote similar to:"A wise man sees a young man struggling with the same challenges he once faced, knowing that through overcoming them, the young man will grow wiser." Do the older ones push us to add strength, to form our character or is it really just Machiavellian tendencies?

Perhaps you are right. I'm interested in your solution of a new globalistic school. What does the world need now!? Click to expand…

I don't see why killing God would necessitate the loss of individual human celebrities. After all, if we slaughter Yahweh, we can worship all the false idols we want. This is why I think it's very important to espouse the values of Secular Humanism among the young crowd, such that they understand it's OK to appreciate the output of real human beings.

-

nsequeira119 said: Yeah, those are good- I don't mean at all to undersell or overlook the creative visions that Gen Z already has. Gen Z has a great deal of unique aphorisms, culture, etc. but it isn't understood or catalogued by older generations, who just dismiss it. Step one in building a healthy, functional generation might be recognizing the contributions to culture which have already been made. I'd say the biggest difference between Gen Z and previous generations is that we don't value the individual. We don't have any celebrities- at least not yet- who are distinct, recognizable people with unique outlooks. Moreso our culture is a collective soupy hodgepodge which places ideologies over individuals. That might not necessarily be unworkable, it might even lead to great results- but we need to refine and understand it. I'm not sure a "healthy, functional generation" can really exist, since they, as invented by Karl Mannheim, only are really defined by bad or disruptive things happening to a cohort of people, in turn affecting future generations based on how they react. Perhaps the healthiest generation is one that doesn't screw up the world bad enough to create further generation-defining events.

I don't think Gen-Z can really contribute to "culture" because there is no longer anything common to bind people except living in the same economic zone called a "country". There are absolutely no pressures on me to start saying "on Jah" and listening to Lil Uzi because good taste is in a complete anarchic state right now, and the old institutions that used to have the monopoly on what people did, watched, read, etc. barely even exist. Instead, algorithms tell us to embrace hyper-specific interests that makes everyone a foreigner to everyone else. The downfall of the celebrity is from people no longer all caring about one thing together. Can zoomerkids still create works of art? Yes, but they won't be universally popular. Instead of a return to the 20th Century monoculture I find it more likely there will be fracturing, as small weird identities gain traction and fight with each other.

-

Your first mistake was thinking that you're entitled to anything. Culture has always been the top dogs' bitch. You can see this in the transformation of "culture" from the feudalists' impotent baroque masturbation to the even more insufferable wank that was early bourgeois nationalism, to the even more insufferable wank that was impressionism etc. etc...

Since the late 1800s "culture" has been a consoomer's shitfuck to be bought and sold to the proto-hitlerite "middle class", and that process of consoomifying art has only snowballed. "Art" and "culture" no longer have any pretentious dickwad value in and of themselves, but only value in how much they sell for. That's why we've recently seen the total obliteration of what little specks of joy could be found in this

nightmare called the internet, because the pedophilic masturbatory death march of the bourgeois has begun metaphorically pissing and shitting hot steamy liquid over any old frameworks; buying up domains, consolidating the flow of information between a few large partners. It isn't right to call it "technofeudalism" because we aren't even allowed to slack off as much as feudal peasants did; the internet

is slowly being absorbed into a few massive cybercartels. These cartels' castrated public forums strip away individuality to a profile picture and handle, flood the user with a mindless sewage spill of "content", and don't allow them the time or resources to think for a while, just keep scrolling... Yes, the modern cartel is designed to provoke aggression in its users, the drawing of battle lines, the

psychic train of addiction through petty likes and follows, we know, we've all seen the sheer brainlessness of the average Xitter user, who has staked out lines on le Culture War issue of the day, the same bloodlust showing as the smug androids that run these shitholes collect their money from idiots. The technocratic cartels of today obey the same principles as those of early-1900s Germany—

Phoebus' lightbulb killings and the like— and like Phoebus they march towards war, because that's where the money is. And these won't be the chudjak manly trad wars of Macedon or Rome, no, these wars will be automated on ChatGPT-9/11 and shitcoin deposits as the bunch of fat bastards that are the ringleaders smoke pot and masturbate, observing a field of infant corpses, their soldiers.

-

another great new, related thread

Is the economy a zero sum game?

A quick google search of this question gives a resounding answer: "No, IDIOT!" The reason given for why the economy isn't zero sum is "wealth creation", a nebulous ill-defined concept which I'm not entirely sure exists, at least not in the way it's usually touted. A common explanation of why...

new

On deceit: Why does honesty seem so scarce?

Good evening Cafe. Maybe you can relate; I feel like I'm on the receiving end of a lot more lies than I ought to be. For the past few years, as I've entered my 20s I've formed quite a few friendships that have been called into question, and sometimes ended, due to boldfaced lies or personal...

Code:https://twitter.com/tulpapilled/status/1771142712588398942

GONNA REVAMP THIS BLOG... USED TO BE PR ADS, - NOW, IT IS PLACE FOR NEW AESTHETICS - "NET UTOPIA 2010" (TENTATIVE NAME)

[scuttling]

Happy Accidents

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 6,300 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Art, Neighbor Hotch, Shy and Oblivious Hotch, Flirting, It's soo sappy I'm sorry, Oral sex, Unprotected sex Summary: Aaron's new neighbor is out of his league for so many reasons: she's young, beautiful, artistic, unique, free-spirited, the kind of person who turns heads when she walks down the street. It's no wonder he ends up falling in love with her. *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below! Against all of his better judgement, Aaron is kind of creeping on his new next door neighbor.

He is absolutely the type of man, any other time, to approach a woman he’s interested in and introduce himself, look for a way to connect, some common ground, but this is no ordinary woman.

She is out of his league in so many ways: young, beautiful, unique, free-spirited, the type of person who turns heads when she walks down the street. There’s not a chance in hell she would look twice at an old, stuffy, monotone suit with a seven year old son and perpetual bags under his eyes. That’s not him feeling bad about himself, it’s just the way the world works.

The first time he saw her, she was getting on the elevator while he was getting off of it, and they’d bumped into each other; she was wearing a short, flowy dress, and she’d smiled at him, apologized, eyes sparkling, smelling like she’d spent all day in the sunshine. It was the only time since Haley he’d ever entertained the idea of love at first sight.

She keeps to herself most of the time, gives off the air of being really cool and mysterious; their paths have crossed a few times since then—at the bank of mailboxes downstairs, in the hallway they share, once during a false alarm fire alarm—but he enjoys watching her paint more than anything.

They have balconies next to each other, and one night when he was tending to his herb garden—Jack enjoys watching the plants grow, and picking the herbs, Aaron likes to eat them—he spotted her standing on hers, facing away from him, in cut off jean shorts and a baggy t-shirt, barefoot. She’d been painting the city, the sky, with the sunset glowing behind her like she was the work of art, and he actually felt an ache in his chest, the feeling of missing someone he’s never really met.

Since that night, he’s started taking his work outside in the evenings after Jack goes to bed, and sitting in near silence while she paints, hums—sometimes songs he knows, sometimes songs he doesn’t. The first time he goes out before she does, she says hello when she drags her easel out, so he starts to say hello to her when she beats him there, too, but that’s pretty much the extent of their interaction. One evening when Aaron and Jack are getting home from dinner, she is lugging a canvas bigger than she is through the hallway and Jack almost runs headfirst into it; when he looks up, he exclaims about how big it is, and pretty—it’s covered with colors, something abstract and cheerful, and even if he’d seen it on the side of the road, he would have just known that she painted it. (That may be a good indicator that he’s getting in a little too deep.)

“Wow, that’s the biggest painting I’ve ever seen! And so many colors,” Jack says, awed. Aaron puts his hands on his shoulders to keep him out of her way; they’re already bothering her enough, when she’s clearly trying to get that giant thing home.

“It’s pretty cool, isn’t it? I carry bigger pieces around at my studio, believe it or not,” she says to him, poking her head around the side to look at him.

“You have a studio?” His eyes are wide with interest; his favorite subject has always been art, as evidenced by their refrigerator, which is covered in drawings. She offers him an even brighter smile.

“I do! It’s not far from here; it’s called Live in Color. There’s a big rainbow painted on the side.”

“That’s so cool; it must be awesome to have your own studio.” Aaron loves that Jack seems to be so passionate about this, but the way they are obviously holding her up has him feeling awkward; he tugs gently on Jack’s backpack.

“That is really cool, bud, but we should let her go. I’m sure that’s heavy.” She smiles, shrugs.

“It’s no trouble. Hey, actually, we have some children’s art classes at the studio, and you look like you’d fit right in with the Green group—ages 7-9?” She looks up at Aaron, who nods. “Maybe we can talk dad into bringing you down sometime. We do painting, drawing, and crafts, it’s really fun.” She’s still looking right at Aaron, gives him a little wink, and he swears to god he gets butterflies in his stomach.

He’s a grown man. A federal agent. With butterflies. It’s insane.

“Oh man, dad, please? Can I take classes at her studio pleeease?” Jack tugs on the sleeve of his suit, and he nods, smiles down at him.

“Yeah, absolutely, Jack. We’ll go down and get more information tomorrow?” he offers, to both placate him and finally free the poor girl from the conversation; he nods excitedly, and she smiles, looks sweet, genuinely happy Jack is so excited to take the class.

“Cool, I look forward to seeing you guys there. Actually, if you give me one sec, I can grab my card for you.” She passes them, carrying the canvas and looking effortless while she does it; she props it up against the wall to get her keys out, unlocks her door and heads in, pops back out with a business card in a vivid watercolor yellow. “It has the address and phone number for the studio on the front, and I put my cell on the back; I figured it couldn’t hurt, considering we live next door to each other. Now you know who to call if you ever have an art emergency.”

He takes the card from her fingers, flips it over just to see the handwritten name and number; he knew her script would be lovely, and it is, easy and flowing and natural. It suits her. He tries not to grin, or flush, or otherwise be awkward about the fact that she just gave him her phone number, however innocently.

“Thank you. We’ll see you tomorrow.” They turn to head for their apartment, and she clears her throat; he smiles a little, turns back, and she’s leaning casually up against the canvas with her arms crossed.

“You know my name now. What’s yours?” She’s just being polite, but he gets the goddamn butterflies again.

“Aaron.” She smiles, something beautiful and a little wild.

“Okay, Aaron. See you outside.” From then on, most of their free time, be it evenings or weekends, is spent at the studio. Aaron isn’t the only parent who sticks around—it’s an art class, not a daycare, he doesn’t feel right just dropping Jack off and leaving him there—and he’s also not the only parent, it seems, who is aware of his beautiful young neighbor.

“She’s incredible, right?” another dad says to him one evening, over by the coffee. Aaron looks him over briefly—it’s a job hazard, he sizes up everyone, but he already has a weird feeling about this guy. “I’ve been bringing my kid here for a month just to look at that little ass running around. My wife just thinks our daughter is just really into art.” He says it with a laugh, like that’s a ridiculous concept. Aaron feels himself start to boil.

“You shouldn’t be disrespectful. She’s doing a great thing here, for the children; she’s not doing it for you to ogle her.” He feels a little hypocritical, because he is also looking, but not like this guy. He knows guys like this. He puts away guys like this.

He glances over at Aaron, looking a little taken aback that someone actually commented on his behavior, then rolls his eyes.

“She doesn’t need you to defend her honor, buddy. She wouldn’t run around here in those overalls if she didn’t want us looking. It’s job security.” She’s wearing the overalls tonight, denim shorts with one of the straps unhooked, a t-shirt underneath, but it’s not as if she’s performing a striptease. She just looks like an artist, covered in drips of paint, smiling as she looks at the kids’ pictures over their shoulders. Aaron really, really hates this guy.

“In my experience, women usually dress for themselves; they probably have pockets, easier to keep things at hand that she may need, and it’s warm in here, so she’s likely dressing for comfort. She’s certainly not dressing for you.”

As if she can sense the tension, she looks over at them, flicks her eyes over Aaron, then the other guy, and walks over with a soft smile on her face.

“Hey, Aaron, Jack really wanted you to see what he’s working on.” She reaches out a hand, wraps it around his wrist and guides him over to Jack’s table. “I figured I’d save you,” she says when they’re out of earshot. “That guy sucks. He’s always saying creepy things to me and Alaina.”

“You should ask him to leave if he makes you uncomfortable,” he says, looking down at her with worry. “I can do it.” She shrugs.

“I would, but his daughter really does enjoy the class, and it’s not fair to her that her dad’s disgusting. It’s nothing we can’t handle.” She squeezes his wrist lightly. “Thanks, though. Hey Jack, show dad your project.” He peers over his shoulder, and it’s a pink and orange skyline, much like the one he saw her painting that first time on the balcony. “I asked the kids to paint my favorite thing today, and that’s sunset.”

“I saw you painting this one night,” he says, and then he feels abruptly like an idiot. She just smiles at him though, nods.

“Yeah, I’m a sucker for a beautiful sunset. It makes you feel like, just because the day ends, it doesn’t have to mean things are over; it’s just one of life’s beautiful natural transitions. And the colors are to die for: peach, coral, jasmine, rose, tiger’s eye.” He finds himself unexpectedly touched by her description, smiles softly to shake himself of the emotions.

“The way you see the world is extraordinary. To me it’s just kind of… orange.” She returns his expression, but softer, and squeezes his wrist again; he didn’t even realize she was still holding it.

“Sounds like you need some art in your heart. I give lessons for adults, too; you could even come over and paint with me on my balcony, some time. Special neighbor privileges.”

The thought of being with her on her balcony while she paints is almost overwhelming, which he finds funny, considering he currently sits no more than twenty feet away. There is an intimacy about it, while they both do their work in the cool, quiet breeze, but standing like this, close enough to touch, with the late day sun on her face while she talks about colors… he’s not sure he could handle it without falling in love.

She pats him on the back, moves on to another child, and he tells Jack what a great job he’s doing; his face is lit up, so happy, and regardless of the neighbor, he’s glad they stumbled upon this hobby.

When they pack up to leave, the jerk from earlier comes up to him, leans in to speak in a hushed voice. “You should have just told me you were fucking her. I would have backed off.” He blinks, but the guy and his daughter are walking out the door before he finds himself able to do more than that. About a week later, he goes over for that lesson almost by accident. Jack is at Jessica’s for the night at his request, and Aaron was planning to order takeout and have a paperwork cramming session, but when goes out onto the balcony, phone in hand to place an order, his neighbor is standing on hers like she’s waiting for him.

“Hey. I saw you don’t have Jack; I made some pasta with vodka sauce, if you’re hungry. I always prepare too much.” He sets his phone on the table, walks over to the railing to get a little closer.

“Uh. Sure. I have fresh basil growing here; trade?” She smiles, nods.

“Yeah, sounds delicious. I’ll be right back.” She ducks inside, returns a few moments later with two dishes of steaming, saucy pasta, sets one down on her table and gets right up against her railing, hands the other over to him across his. “That one’s for you,” she says, handing him an orange plate, and he sets it down, picks a few good looking leaves from his basil plant and tears them up, drops them on top. “And this one’s for me.” She reaches, holds a green plate over the gap between their porches, and he adds some basil to it before she pulls it back, takes a deep sniff. “God, it smells so good and fresh. Thank you, Aaron.”

“Thank you, it looks great.” He goes to sit at his table with it, but she scoots her chair closer to the railing, closer to his balcony, so he does the same. They make easy small talk while they eat, mostly about Jack, a little about her studio and his work.

“FBI, huh? I can definitely see that, with your suits, and your… neutrals.” She cringes when she says it, and it makes him laugh.

“I’m sorry I can’t wear paint covered overalls to the office,” he teases, and she shoots him a playfully affronted look, grins.

“You love my paint covered overalls—and for the record, you’d look great in them. You should find a pair. Preferably not black.” He flushes a little at that, but she doesn’t notice, just finishes up her pasta with a sigh of contentment. “That was so good, thanks again for the basil.”

“You’re welcome; thanks for feeding me something other than the takeout I planned to have.” He stands up, gestures to his apartment. “I’ll wash the plate and then hand it back over.”

“Why don’t you just bring it over and come paint with me for a little while? If you want,” she tacks on, and for the first time she seems a little nervous. “I’m not trying to be pushy, I just think it would be fun.”

It’s not that he doesn’t want to; it would be amazing to watch her paint up close and personal. He’s just also afraid he’ll pass the point of no return if he does it, and he can’t handle any more heartache. He only very recently got to a place where just waking up in the morning no longer causes him agony.

It’s the look on her face, though, soft and sweet and open, that makes his decision for him.

“Yeah, okay. I’d like that.” She grins.

“I’ll unlock the door.”

She’s dragging out her easel when he walks through the door; her apartment is stark white walls with vibrant furniture, artwork, canvases propped up against every bare spot along the wall, paints and brushes and charcoal and pencils on every surface. It’s exactly what he would have expected, warm and lived-in and comforting, very unlike the mostly black and gray interior of his own apartment. She smiles when she sees him.

“Hey! Can you grab that tray of paint on your way out?” she asks, and he picks up what looks kind of like an ice cube tray filled with many different colors, carries it out to the balcony with him. She has a canvas propped up, a little larger than a computer monitor, and she’s gotten started, but he can’t tell what it’s going to be just yet. When he hands her the paint she looks down at it, peers around the edge of the canvas like she’s comparing something. He’s so intrigued, curious about the way her mind works, what she’s thinking.

“What are you painting?” he asks when she picks up a brush, sets it down, picks up another. She smiles at him.

“Well, we’re painting that.” She points to the street, where there’s a rusty, pale blue antique car parked—he says that loosely, because it looks broken down—in the alley. Aaron chuckles softly.

“We’re going to paint that? It’s a little… grim.”

“Yes. It’s part of a series I just decided to create: ‘Beauty in the Ordinary.’” She sighs, and he’s surprised to see that her eyes are a little wet. She wipes the back of her hand over her eyes. “You know Bob Ross, right? Everyone knows Bob Ross.” He nods.

“Yes; the guy who paints the happy trees on PBS.”

“Right. I used to watch him growing up, and I vividly remember something he said once, about needing both darkness and light in life and in painting. ‘You have to have a little sadness once in a while to know when the good times come. I’m waiting on the good times now.’” She sniffles, exhales softly. “I’m waiting on the good times too. Sometimes looking at things like this car, and forcing myself to find something beautiful in it, is the easiest way to get through the day. Does that make sense?” He swallows hard when she looks up at him, because aside from Jack, she has been the lightest part of his life since the first time they passed each other on the elevator.

“Yeah, it really does.” She shoots him a soft, slightly sadder smile, and then explains about the paints a little, shows him the difference in the brushes, lets him feel the weight of them, the textures of the bristles.

She starts painting the car—the background is mostly finished—and he’s more than happy to watch, to hear her talk about her process. She asks if she can use his forearm to mix paints, and he turns it over, wrist up, tries not to smile too hard when she puts some dark blue on him, then white, mixing them and then comparing them to the car on the street. He looks down at her, the concentration on her face, the softness in her eyes, and is met with the sudden desire to brush a line of paint over her nose and make her laugh and kiss her breathless.

“Okay, your turn,” she says when she’s about halfway done with the car. She puts her hands on the backs of his arms, pulls him in front of the canvas so she’s between him and the railing. “You’ve been watching me, so you know what to do.” He has been watching her, but not necessarily for her technique, so he’s a little nervous; he dips the brush in the blue paint but hesitates to make a stroke. “I have faith in you, Aaron. Here.”

She wraps her fingers around his hand, guides him toward the canvas, and together they make a wide, curved line, rounding out the bumper. It doesn’t look half bad.

“It gets easier once you understand the relationship between specific paint, specific brushes, and your hands,” she says softly, and she helps him paint another line. “Are you having fun? You look stressed,” she teases, and he makes it a point to relax his face.

“I’m having a lot of fun,” he says, looking down at her; they make eye contact for a long moment, and she leans a little closer, and he leans a little closer, and then he accidentally dabs a blob of blue onto the canvas. He pulls back, grimaces, deflates. “I made a mistake. You can’t erase paint, right?” She laughs softly, takes the brush from his hand.

“No, you can’t erase paint, but as Mr. Ross would say, ‘There are no mistakes, only happy accidents.’” She gets her fingers close to the tip of the brush, makes a few quick movements, then grabs another brush, dips it in green. When she pulls back, there is a little blue flower growing out of a patch of grass where his blob used to be. He exhales, a little amazed.

“If only the mistakes we make in life were that easy to fix,” he says, and she nods.

“Yeah, that would be nice, but a lot of the time we find a way to turn them into beautiful things eventually. Are you willing to give it another shot?” He says yes, and she guides his hand for a while, then just hovers near it, then just instructs him on what to do. It’s dark before their painting is finished, and she carries it inside to dry, then takes him to the kitchen sink to scrub the paint off of his arm.

“Thanks for having me over; I had a really good time,” he murmurs as she dries his clean skin. She looks up, smiles softly, nods her head.

“I had a really good time too. I’m glad you came over; you’re welcome to join me any time.”

He says goodbye, heads home, looks at his stack of work with a groan, and brews a pot of coffee. He’s in for a long night, but he wouldn’t change his evening for anything. Life is much the same for the next few weeks: school and work, Jack’s art class at the studio a couple times a week, painting on the balcony on the weekend, with and without Jack. When Jack joins them for the first time, she pulls out a big box of markers and thick sheets of paper and he draws elaborate scenes while they talk and paint together. When Aaron makes mistakes, she’s never upset, just turns them into perfect little details that end up being his favorite parts of the paintings.

“What ever happened with your ‘Beauty in the Ordinary’ series?” he asks one evening while they’re painting some ocean waves. “Did I cause you enough trouble with the car to give up?” She looks down at the ground, looks a little shy, then shakes her head and smiles.

“No, you didn’t make me want to give up. I’ve been working on it at the studio. You’ll see it when it’s all done, I plan to hang them there.”

“Looking forward to it,” he tells her, and then Jack tugs on her shorts, shows them the picture he drew of the ocean, too.

Later that week, the team takes a case, and on the day he’s set to come home, Jessica drops Jack off at the studio with the plan that Aaron will pick him up when his flight lands. Due to some weather between where the team is and home, they get a little delayed; he doesn’t want to make Jessica head back out that way almost immediately after dropping him off, but he’s not sure who else he could ask to pick Jack up. It’s almost a stupid length of time before it dawns on him to call the studio.

“Life in Color, this is Alaina.”

“Alaina, hi, this is Jack’s dad—” He has his whole spiel prepared, but she cuts him off.

“Oh, sure, hang on a sec, she’s right here. It’s Jack’s dad,” she says, but it sounds further away, like she’s trying to cover the receiver. After a moment, his neighbor picks up.

“Aaron, hi. Jack said you were working.”

“Yeah, I was, and I’m supposed to pick him up after class, but our flight was delayed.” He doesn’t know how to ask for help with Jack; even with all the time they’ve been spending together, she still makes him a little nervous. Luckily, he doesn’t have to figure that part out on his own.

“Hey, that’s no problem. If it’s okay with you, I’ll just take him home with me. I’ll order pizza, we’ll draw, and you can just stop by when you’re home and pick him up.” He breathes a sigh of relief, runs a hand over the back of his head.

“That would be perfect. Thank you—I’ll owe you one.”

“You don’t owe me anything. Hanging out with your mini me is reward enough; he’s painting something special for you today, won’t let me see it.” That makes him smile, and he feels so warm at the prospect of picking him up from her bright apartment, seeing his artwork, her smile. After a long, draining day like this one, it’s exactly what he needs.

“I’ll have to remain in suspense until tonight, I guess. Can you let him know I said hi? And thank you, I’ll see you later tonight.”

“Of course. We’ll see you then.”

It’s late, after nine, by the time he makes it home. He doesn’t even take his bags inside, just drops them outside his door and knocks softly on hers. She answers with a smile, ushers him in, asks him if he’d like a drink and gets them each a beer.

Jack is in her room, asleep, so they have a little time to chat; she asks about his flight, his case, and he asks about the studio, and she gets a little shy when it comes to that topic, clears her throat.

“Um. I have Jack’s secret project, if you want to see it. He said I could show you.” He’s not sure why that would make her nervous—at least, until he sees it.

The background is all watercolors, a gradient of rainbow colors starting with pink at the top and ending with a soft purple at the bottom. Over that, in black marker, he’s drawn the three of them, with a big heart around them.

“Tonight’s theme was the thing that makes you the happiest, and he said he’s the happiest when the three of us are on the balcony together. It was… really, really sweet.” She looks up at him, brushes a hand over the crown of her head. “If I’m being honest, that’s when I’m the happiest, too.” He takes the picture from her hands, runs his fingers over it, and smiles, feeling a warm ache in his chest—not like before, not like losing someone he’s never really met, but like finding something he never really planned on.

“That’s when I’m the happiest, too,” he agrees, and when he looks up, she looks determined, like she does when trying to find just the right shade of paint. She takes Jack’s picture out of his hand, sets it on the counter, and then pulls him down by the lapels of his suit, kisses him long and slow. His hands move to her waist, keeping her close, and eventually she pauses for breath, looks at him again, and then wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him some more.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the first time I saw you—tall and dark and serious, striding out of the elevator. So intriguing, mysterious,” she breathes when they separate again. “I wanted to know everything about you.”

“Are you kidding?” he asks, huffing a laugh. “I’m boring, but you are so vibrant, so full of life; I felt like you were everything I wasn’t, and I wanted to know you so badly.”

“You know me now; would you like to keep getting to know me?” It’s one of the easiest questions he’s ever been asked; he nods, and she beams, and he lifts her into his arms and carries her to the couch, drapes himself over her while she leans back against the cushions, pulling him closer.

They make out like neither of them have a care in the world—god, how long has it been since he’s made out with someone?—her fingers scraping through his hair, his hands on her bare waist when her shirt rides up, and she’s in the process of pushing his jacket off his shoulders when they hear a sound from the other room that startles them apart. Jack.

“I’ll go check on him,” Aaron says, and when he goes into her room Jack is still snuggled up on her bed sound asleep. It looks like some canvases fell over, though, and he stoops to pick them up, then spots the car they painted together. He turns and she’s right behind him, skids to a stop. “I thought you said these were at the studio?”

“They were,” she says, and she looks nervous again. “But I changed my mind about hanging them there. They felt too personal.” He runs his hand over the car and sees where she’s coming from; this one feels personal to him, too.

“Can I see the rest?” he asks. “Only if you want to show me them.”

“You’re the only one I want to show them to,” she says with a soft smile, and she grabs a few more canvases, carries them into the light of the living room. “Beauty in the ordinary, remember.” He remembers, could never forget.

She turns one over, and it’s a kitchen sink, and in the kitchen sink is an orange plate with a fork resting on it—like the plate she’d given him with the pasta on it. She turns one over and it’s a man’s hand, holding a paintbrush, with pale blue paint on his forearm. The next one is a little herb garden on a balcony; the next one is a view from above, of a sandy haired boy with markers all around him. The last one is an open elevator—ripe with possibilities.

When he looks up at her, she’s got tears in her eyes, and one slips down her cheek.

“So, I think I’ve found my good times.” She smiles through her tears, and he takes her face in his hands and kisses the salt from her lips. “I love you,” she says when he pulls back to wipe her face with his sleeve, and he kisses her softly, again and again, and tells her he loves her, too. The next weekend, Jack is at Jessica’s for a sleepover, and Aaron has been enlisted to help with an art project. He walks next door, knocks lightly, and enters the living room; he is met with a very deep, passionate kiss and a smile, and instructions to help move the furniture out of the way.

“I’m really curious what kind of art requires this much floor space,” he says, shoving her couch back against the wall, and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, a move he has been unable to resist since she did it the first time they had sex. She knows it’s a weakness, exploits it, and he loves every minute of it.

“You’ll see, but I promise you’re going to like it.” When they clear the floor, she grabs a large, rolled-up fabric canvas and lays it out in the middle of the room, then drops three bottles of paint—one is yellow (jasmine), one is orange (peach), and one is kind of pink (coral? He’s still not sure.)—onto it. “You can obviously say no if you want, but I wanted something over my bed with the sunset colors, and I found this…” She steps closer to him, runs her hands down his chest, guides him down for a kiss so delicious he loses his train of thought. “It’s sex art; we put the paint on the canvas, and on ourselves, and… you know, go at it. What do you think?”

He thinks he really, really loves art now, even more than he thought possible.

“So we have paint-covered sex and then you just hang it on the wall? Like regular art?”

“Yep, I got the supplies I’ll need to hang it; letting it dry will probably take the longest. I figured we could shower while it’s drying, maybe go for round two, if you’re up for it.” She moves her hand to his waist, slips it inside his shorts, and he pulls her closer to his body. “Are you up for it, Aaron?”

That is an understatement.

Undressing happens extremely fast, because this is really sexy and they’re kind of in a phase where they can’t keep their hands off of each other anyway. She pulls her hair up onto the top of her head to try to minimize the amount of paint in it, and then she pours paint on the canvas, turns around and drizzles some on his back and tells him to lay down.

“I think we should probably change positions often so we get a lot of motion on the canvas; I apologize to your old knees in advance,” she teases, but she soothes the sting of her words by pouring paint on herself and then laying between his legs and licking at his dick. “Do some stuff with your hands; I want to see those big handprints on my wall,” she murmurs, and he groans, puts his palms down in the paint and drags them through it.

She leans up a little, sliding her knees through some yellow paint, sucks him fully, deeply into her mouth for couple of minutes, and then stretches forward and puts an orange hand right in the middle of his chest; the look in her eyes is playful, and he reaches out with one finger, hooks it under her chin, and guides her off and up so they can kiss.

“Your turn,” he says with a smirk, and then he gets her onto her back and ducks between her legs, hopes she doesn’t grab for his hair like she usually does. He rubs his pointed tongue over her clit, waits for the mmm it always elicits, and looks up at her, covers each of her breasts with a paint-covered palm and squeezes. “Leave handprints for me,” he leans up and reminds her, kissing her stomach, and she plants her hands, then presses up and grabs his shoulder, smearing pink down his back. “Oh, you wanted more of that?”

“Don’t tease me, the paint will dry,” she whines, and he spreads her thighs wider with his elbows and licks her pussy quickly, until she’s squirming against the canvas and panting for more. “Come here, come here.”

He’s not ready for that, though, paint or not, wants her to come from this; he takes his hands off of her, dips them in the paint again and presses down, then puts his hands under her ass and brings her closer so he can fuck her with his tongue, quick and deep and slick.

“Aaron, Aaron, god.” She slides her hands down his arms, over his neck, digs her nails in when she comes moaning like music.

While she catches her breath, so gorgeous, she sticks her arms out like she’s making a snow angel, and he catches her while she’s off guard and turns her onto her stomach, puts his hands on the smears of paint he’s already left on her ass, and slides inside.

“Oh my god; I was trying to impress you with this sexy art project, but you’re rocking my world.” She’s breathless, pressing back into his thrusts and painting with her entire body. God, he loves her mind.

“You know I always take your projects very seriously,” he says, leaning forward to whisper in her ear, and she groans, laughs.

“Yes you do. From the side? Let’s lay diagonally.” They shift, and he hooks his chin over her shoulder, kisses her neck and huffs hot against her hair. “Hmm, love it like this,” she sighs, and she reaches back to press her hand to his hip, holding him while he moves inside her. “I love you.”

“Love you. I want you to finish on top of me,” he instructs with a wet kiss to her throat, and she nods against his lips.

“Yeah, next; I’m getting close.” A few more strokes and she gets up onto her knees, lets him lay back, propped up on his arms, and climbs on top of him; she kisses him slow and dirty and then runs her hands over him, sits back on his dick and glides up and down. “You wanna come like this too? I owe you a little world rocking,” she says with a flick of her tongue over his bottom lip, and he nods, squeezes her thigh.

“It’s the least you can do after making me move all the heavy furniture.” She rolls her eyes but kisses his chin, down his throat, and bounces harder on him, all delicious eye contact and moans. “Mmm. Just like that, baby, come for me.”

“Fuck. I will, I will.” She wraps a hand around the back of his neck, kisses him kind of rough and with lots of tongue, and then tips her head back and climaxes, clenches, wrings his orgasm out of him so quickly it’s almost jarring. “Oh, yes Aaron. So good,” she mumbles, and then he lays back, out of breath, and she slides out of his lap and lays beside him, out of breath too.

After a moment, she looks over at him, smiles, and swipes a pink fingertip over his cheek.

“This is the hottest thing I’ve ever done with anyone. I’m glad I got to do it with you.” He rolls on top of her, presses a kiss to her nose, and nods.

“Me too. You know,” he adds after a moment, “my bedroom could use some artwork, too.” She grins, wraps her arms around him and squeezes tight.

“You’re right; I think we should do yours in blue: liberty, that’s dark blue; periwinkle, that’s light blue; maybe steel gray, too.”

“You’re the expert. I’m just your paintbrush.” Her hands smooth up his back, and contentment washes over him like a warm breeze.

“Hmm. I like the sound of that. Want to get cleaned up?”

Cleaning up is almost as fun as making the mess, because they’re well and truly covered, and when the canvas dries, the sunset colors are almost as beautiful as the ones she used the first time he ever saw her paint. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc

[jisungsmochi]

held by me - zhong chenle

chenle x reader - college au (part of my nct dream as the vamps songs series) you can read more here ! 

word count: 2.5k 

summary: “we’re both under ceilings staring up sharing feelings, you should be held by me”

chenle from next door was always inviting you over to hang out with him. you would kindly agree, building a strong friendship with the cheery boy. but there was one secret being hidden by the both of you, the undeniable feeling that you were both helplessly inlove with the other. so what happens during the night of a thunderstorm, that has you both shaking?

//

you remembered the first day you moved into your apartment building. your parents were practically kicking you out, claiming you were old enough to fend for yourself against the outside world while you were studying. although they did help you find the apartment and made the down payment, you were glad to finally live independently. there were things you didn’t really know how to do, but that’s what youtube and google were for. 

you first met your next door neighbour, chenle, when there was an emergency fire evacuation. it was just past midnight when the alarm went off. you rushed outside, only in your pajamas and bunny slippers, hair disheveled. chenle caught sight of you, internally giggling at your current state. your eyes widened at him, you had never seen him before, even though it had been about two weeks since you moved in. he gestured for you to walk with him to the lobby, waiting for the alarm to stop ringing. you quickly followed his footsteps, entrusting him with guiding you to safety. he stopped once you reached the front desk, observing the ridiculous residents complaining about their interrupted sleep.

the guy living next door, stayed close by to you, not saying a word. you didn’t mind how close he decided to stand near you, it made you feel comfortable, in some odd way.

“okay everyone! it was a false alarm! there was no fire detected. you may now return to your rooms, we are sorry for any inconvenience” the apartment complex manager announced, as you watched everyone scatter back to their rooms. some were grunting, still unhappy with the sudden wailing of the sirens. the boy urged you to follow him again, walking in silence as you made it back to your rooms. the boy stopped for a moment, as if he wanted to say something, but you beat him to it,

“hey wanna come in for some tea? i don’t think i’ll be falling back asleep anytime soon” you kindly offer, watching as his face lit up in delight. he nodded gently, following you into your apartment. you switched on the lights, making your way to your kitchen to turn on the kettle.

“so i never got your name, i’m y/n” you started preparing the mugs,

“i’m chenle, i live next door, as you know now” he finally spoke, catching you off guard.

“ah yes, i would have introduced myself when i first moved in, but unpacking and starting college just got in the way” you explained as you poured warm water into each of your mugs, bringing them over to chenle as you sat next to him on the bar stools by your counter. he thanked you softly, blowing the drink cautiously before taking a sip.

“it’s alright, i should have come by first! i just wasn’t sure how to do so” he shyly admitted, making you smile.

“well we’re both here now, who would have thought! do you live alone?” you asked,

“uh yeah i do, my parents actually bought me the apartment, something about wanting me to be independent and a proper adult” he slightly rolled his eyes at the last part, making you nod,

“same here! they really wanted me out of the house, so here i am” you shrugged.

the rest of the night was spent chatting away, the both of you suddenly couldn’t stop talking. chenle found you entertaining, he never thought he’d be chatting with a random girl who lived next door after a false fire alarm. this was going to be the start of a beautiful friendship.

//

a few weeks later, chenle woke up to banging on his front door. there was only one person he knew that would be awake at 7am, voluntarily. as he opened the door, he saw your bright smile greeting his tired eyes. he allowed you to enter his apartment, still grumbling that he was tired.

“oh shush, i need some more toilet paper” you quickly made your way to his bathroom, snagging some rolls for yourself.

“you know you can just buy your own? they’re always on sale!” chenle grumbled, moving to lay down on his couch, waiting for you to return.

“where’s the resourcefulness in that? you always buy them in bulk, and you’re the only one who lives here. sharing is caring right?” you greedily smirked as you sat down next to him, your tote bag full of toilet paper rolls. chenle moves to sit up next to you, finally feeling more awake.

“so what are we gonna do today? i’m thinking we can get some lunch, maybe go to the park or something?” you started rambling, too energised in the morning.

“can we just stay in? i’m not in the mood to go out today” chenle softly pouted at you, making you immediately agree. how could you say no to that face?

“sure, i’ll make pancakes for breakfast” you softly squeezed his shoulder and he leant into your touch. most of the affection between you, were in the form of soft (platonic) touches, and words of affirmation. chenle filled the void of loneliness you thought you would experience whilst living alone. you’d hang out in his apartment almost everyday, claiming that you were too lonely or you were bored. chenle never opposed, enjoying your company, and your cooking skills. sometimes his friends would make sly comments and tease him about always hanging out with you, but he didn’t mind. it didn’t really matter what others said, he just enjoyed being around you, it didn’t mean he had to feel something more...yet.

“here we are!” you hand him the beautifully plated pancakes as you both started munching on the delicious pancakes.

“dude, these are amazing. can you live her permanently? i need a personal chef” chenle teased, causing you to shove him lightly.

“you’re rich enough to find a chef, unless...you wanna pay me?” you smirked as he rolled his eyes.

“doesn’t your job pay you enough?” he shot back, causing you to act fake offended,

“i work at the dingy cafe on campus, i’m not exactly living large” you continue to nibble on your pancakes.

sometimes you had thought about what it’d be like to live with chenle. you had spent a few odd nights at his apartment, as he had a spare bedroom. you didn’t mind the idea at all, but you didn’t want people getting the wrong idea that you two were more than friends. there was always that one concern at the back of your mind. the natural flow of your friendship with chenle was something you had never had with anyone else. the people you met at college just didn’t click the same as you did with chenle the first time you met. he was special to you, but if anyone ever asked you that, you’d deny it, playfully responding that he’s just a friend. chenle felt the same way, just because you two were close, didn’t mean he was inlove with you.

could he see himself being with you? yes. he could. but at this moment in time? no. you were both not fond of relationships, feeling immense pressure to constantly be perfect or make eachother happy. by staying friends, it avoided all the conflict that couples had. and no one would get hurt. but the thing about love, is that you don’t really get to choose who you fall inlove with.

you realised this when you saw a girl approach chenle while he was studying at the cafe you worked at. you assumed she was just a classmate but when you saw her sit across from him, softly touching his arm, you started feeling uneasy. who were you to be thinking these things? he could see whoever he wanted.

you saw how he responded, shyly reacting to her words, laughing at her jokes. you wanted to look away, you wanted to go up to him and pull him away. but you couldn’t.

the rest of the day was spent thinking back to what you had witnessed. you didn’t want to bring it up with chenle, incase he questioned why you were even watching him in the first place. chenle insisted he stay until you closed, waiting to walk home with you. when he said things like this, or made these gestures, you thought that meant he cared about you, as more than a friend. but you had been watching way too many kdramas lately, he was just being nice. it started pouring rain as you exited the cafe, you let out a soft grunt before chenle stepped in with his umbrella.

“i got you, let’s go” he smiled softly, walking close to you as he held the umbrella above the both of you. sounds of thunder rang through your ears. chenle became worried, he knew you hated thunderstorms. as you reached your apartments, chenle pulled his hand to grab your wrist,

“wanna stay the night?” he insisted, your heart swelled at his words. why did he have to be so considerate?

you slowly nodded, following him into his apartment. chenle set down his keys, before helping you remove your damp jacket. he rushed to his room, pulling out a spare set of clothes for you to sleep in. you liked how you barely said anything to him, and he just knew exactly what to do. you couldn’t fault him at all.

“how was your day?” chenle started chatting to you, wanting to get your mind off the storm outside. you were both sitting on his bed, each at one end while facing eachother.

“it was decent, i finished my group project! and work was okay, not much happened” you felt yourself avoid his eyes after mentioning work. chenle noticed, eyes furrowing at your actions.

“are you alright? is something wrong?” he moved closer to you, eyes filled with concern. why does he have to do this?

“everything’s fine, i swear” you quickly shut him down, moving off his bed.

“okay something is definitely up, why can’t you tell me?” he stood up to stand across from you. why the hell were you being like this? just tell him how you feel.

“i-it’s nothing, can we just move on?” you continued being stubborn, something that chenle had picked up on. you really could put up a fight.

“alright, if you don’t wanna talk, it’s fine. just don’t push me away” he sighed, moving to tuck himself into bed. his back ended up facing you as you joined him soon after. you turned your back to him, feeling embarrassed about the entire situation. why couldn’t you just admit you were jealous? why was it so hard to admit to yourself?

silence filled the room, the storm outside becoming background noise. until a loud boom of thunder hit, causing you to shake. chenle felt it instantly, turning back to you. he saw how you were shivering, your hands coming up to cover your ears. he gently placed his hand over yours, pulling them away from your ears. you turned to face him, eyes slowly tearing up. he wiped the tear that fell from them, pulling you into him.

“it’s alright, you’re going to be alright” he muttered as he held you close to him. no matter how irritated he got with you sometimes, seeing you so vulnerable like this made his heart ache.

“i was jealous today” you suddenly admit, feeling chenle freeze against you. he looked down at your face, feeling your cheeks slowly heat up.

“w-what are you talking about?” he moved to there was a small distance between your faces.

“i saw you with that girl at the cafe. she wouldn’t stop talking to you. and she squeezed your shoulder, like how i do! it annoyed me” you shyly admit, watching as his lips slowly cocked up into a smirk. was he really enjoying this?

“you were really jealous of her? she’s just a classmate, i gave her some of my notes for class, and she thanked me today. it was nothing, i swear” he assured you, feeling amused that you cared about him, enough to get jealous. you felt like an idiot, of course that’s all it was.

“o-oh my bad then” you whispered, feeling embarrassed. but chenle was quick to interject,

“hey it’s alright. you didn’t know. i’m kind of flattered that you were jealous” he started gently brushing his fingers through your hair.

“ugh i knew you were gonna get an ego boost!” you sighed, snuggling closer to him.

“you know you love me” he jokingly strikes back, feeling your arms slowly untangle from him torso. he immediately stopped what he was doing, looking into your eyes deeply.

“i-i do” you whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear. but he definitely heard you clearly.

“really?” was all he managed to say back. that was not the response you were expecting.

“yeah, i do” you confirmed to both chenle and yourself. the truth was finally out.

“woah, that’s...a relief” he smiled slightly at you, “i thought i was the fool who was hopelessly inlove with you” your eyes practically popped out of your head.

“w-what? you’re kidding, right?” you couldn’t believe the words that left his mouth.

“oh yeah i’m totally kidding. that’s why i offer to walk you home after work, even when it’s inconvenient for my schedule. that’s why i always ask you to come over and keep me company. that’s why i’m here with you right now, protecting you from one of your biggest fears. it’s because i’m totally not inlove with you” chenle playfully responded, causing you to hit his chest softly.

“i don’t know who’s the bigger idiot. you or me?” you giggled,

“definitely you, how could you love someone as lame and goofy as me?” you knew chenle was partially joking, but you still felt like he didn’t fully believe your feelings for him.

“you’re most definitely not lame, you’re so special to me. even if i don’t admit it to you sometimes. you mean the world to me” you whispered to him, feeling your lips inch closer to his. you felt heat rise to his cheeks as you gently cupped his face in your palm. chenle couldn’t contain how giddy you made him feel, closing the gap between you both. you felt his lips mould effortlessly with yours. soft sounds of your lips clashing together, distracted you from the storm. because chenle was your umbrella, shielding you from the storm of the outside world. he was all you needed to get through your youth. moving into the apartment was one of the best decisions of your life. you met someone who had your back during the hard times, always laughing with you during the good times. someone who held you close, too scared of losing you. you never intended to fall for your next door neighbour, but things happen. you couldn’t imagine a world where chenle wasn’t by your side, he became your entire world. and nothing couldn’t ever amount to you in his eyes.

[whumpwriterforlife]

Febuwhump 2022, "Does that hurt" - Summary:

“Damn it, Nyx, I’m not a sharp shooter!” Crowe swore and Nyx could just imagine her shaking her head at him. He opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off, “Give me a minute.” “Not sure I have a minute,” Nyx muttered low enough that the earpiece didn’t pick it up. “Shit!”

Read on AO3 or below the cut

Explosions rocked the ground as one of the Magitek Armors detonated and caused a chainreaction. Nyx ran, breathless but determined, staggering only slightly as he tried to put as much distance between the explosions and himself as possible. His earpiece was going off with his squadmates cursing him and his reckless ideas and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“I got it done, didn’t I?” He smirked.

“You also damn near blew yourself up!” Libertus hissed back at him. “You blazed idiot!”

“Love you, too, big guy.”

The bickering continued but Nyx tuned out the most of it as he emerged from the relative safety of the wall surrounding the enemy base. There would be no cover for him until he got to the treeline nearly two hundred meters out. At least they had wiped out most of the enemy forces by then, but Nyx knew better than to let himself lull into a false sense of security. He would never live it down if he got shot by a straggler now.

He took off in a sprint, trying to dart between some of the bigger rocks in case there was an attack. He was nearly half-way to the treeline when the whir of an engine reached his ears. He let out a string of curses and turned his head just enough to see an airship rising into the air from the corner of his eyes. Where the hell had that come from? The lighthearted tone of the banter faded, replaced by alarmed shouts as the others noticed it as well.

Nyx threw his kukri and warped, hoping it would get him to the treeline and out of the airship’s radar before it could target him, but soon the annoyingly familiar sound of machine gun fire broke out. A yelp escaped his lips as bullets peppered the ground right next to him. There were flashes of blue in the forest as his squad rushed to his aid, but there wasn’t all that much they could do.

“Don’t break cover!” Nyx shouted in warning. “Crowe, any magic left?”

“What do you need?” Crowe asked.

“A fireball to the engine?” Nyx replied as he changed directions and threw his kukri at an angle to the side to get away from the gunfire for a second.

“Damn it, Nyx, I’m not a sharp shooter!” Crowe swore and Nyx could just imagine her shaking her head at him. He opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off, “Give me a minute.”

“Not sure I have a minute,” Nyx muttered low enough that the earpiece didn’t pick it up. “Shit!”

Bullets hit the ground right in front of him, sending grass and soil into the air. Nyx threw his kukri behind him and warped blindly just before he ran into the line of fire. He twisted in the air in an attempt to land on his feet but there was no time. He landed on top of some rocks and hissed as pain burst in his arm and side, robbing him of air.

“Nyx!”

Nyx muttered something incoherent in response as he rolled onto his hands and knees. Black spots danced before his eyes, and he forced an exhale through gritted teeth as the pain intensified. A brief look at the airship showed it was angling its weapons at him again.

All of a sudden there was a burst of red and orange. Nyx breathed out Crowe’s name, eyes wide as he watched the fireball strike right where intended - the airship’s engine. He missed a flash of blue at the treeline, eyes on the airship as the engine exploded and it spun out of control. His insides twisted with ice cold dread as he realized it was headed right at him. “Shit!”

In a flash of blue Luche materialized next to him and pulled him to his feet with little regard to his injuries, pressing his fallen kukri into his hand. “Warp! Now!”

Nyx did. It got him away from the airship, but the explosion as it hit the ground still threw him off his feet. A pained noise escaped his lips even as he tried to keep it in. Luche dropped to his knees right beside him, his frame heaving with large breaths as he made Nyx roll onto his back.

“You’re a crazy son of a bitch!” Luche shook his head as he procured a potion from the armiger. Nyx barely managed to catch his wrist before he could smash it over him. Luche’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell, Nyx?”

“Shoulder,” Nyx hissed and motioned at his injured arm. “Think it’s dislocated.”

Luche muttered a curse and put the potion away. “That’s the last time I’m letting you go solo.”

“I didn’t ask for your permission this time either,” Nyx pointed out unhelpfully.

Luche’s expression darkened a few notches. He moved onto Nyx’s other side and said no more as he grabbed his arm and ruthlessly popped his shoulder back into place. Nyx back arched off the ground, his lips parting in a silent scream. “Fucking hell, Luche! You could’ve at least warned me!”

Luche shrugged as he broke the potion over him. “You could’ve at least listened to my orders.”

“Touché,” Nyx muttered. The potion took most of the pain away, but he still reached out to support his newly healed arm with his opposite hand. His side no longer protested with deeper breaths, and his shoulders sagged with relief. Busted ribs were terrible.

“Come on, let’s get you up,” Luche said as he stood back up, offering him a hand.

Nyx took the help without complaints and nodded his thanks to the man before turning to face the rest of the squad who ran up to them. He plastered on his best smile. “See, I got it!”

“You’re such an idiot!” Crowe huffed. She gave him a cursory once-over and nodded at his arm. “Does that hurt?”

Nyx shrugged with his good shoulder. “A bit.”

“Good,” Crowe muttered and reached to jab the arm.

“Hey!” Nyx yelped and backed away from her. “What was that for?”

“For being an idiot,” Crowe replied with an expression that clearly said ‘duh’.

“How was I supposed to know there was an airship lurking around?” Nyx exclaimed, “Besides, I didn’t even get shot!”

The synchronized look of exasperation Luche, Crowe and Libertus gave him had him grinning. He released his hold on his arm long enough to nudge Luche back towards the treeline. “Come on, guys, the base went kaboom, we saved the day. Let’s head back to camp. I’m starving.”

“I’m still telling Drautos you’re an idiot,” Crowe told him.

“I’m sure you will,” Nyx huffed in amusement, knowing full well it was an empty threat. “I’m sure you will.”

[magicalleprechaun]

Thanks, Fri

Read on AO3

Since hanging out at the tower and unofficially living there, Peter learned that Friday was always right and always reliable. She could answer his questions. Always. No matter what it was. Peter trusted her with his life.

“Friday, why are my spidey senses going off?”

“A probable cause would be that Mr. Barton has entered the ventilation system above you, which was not designed nor has the structural integrity to hold his weight. I estimate that the ceiling will collapse in three minutes.”

Peter left the room and heard the crash of the vents falling exactly three minutes later. He timed it. Peter smiled. “Thanks, Fri.”

“Hey Friday, is something dangerous happening?”

“In the testing room of the developmental labs two floors down, there has been an abnormally large explosion. No serious danger has been detected as the danger was contained. Is this what you detected as dangerous?”

“Yeah, Fri. Thanks.

It’s not that Peter thought the world was gonna end every time his senses went off. He had more common sense than that. But he worried sometimes when it went off, and knowing everything was okay let him sit a little easier.

“Fri, what set off my senses?”

“That may have been the additional security on floor 72. One of the new PR interns set off a security alarm accidentally, and guards from surrounding floors converged on the area.”

“Everything’s good though, right?”

“Yes, nothing of note has occurred.”

“Good. You’re the best, Fri.”

“If you would be so kind, remind Boss of this fact.”

Honestly, sometimes his senses were so faint, he was just plain curious. Friday was a nice way to just get the curiosity out of his system so he could focus.

“Is something happening, Friday?”

“Miss Romanoff is working boxing in the training room. She appears to be exerting more force than usual.”

“Is she okay?”

“She does not appear severely distressed, though she did attend a confidential meeting including Secretary Ross.”

Peter felt a little bad about forgetting to thank Friday on the way to the training room, but he figured she’d understand.

“Fri, what’s happening?”

“Boss has made a false prediction about the maximum output of his new repulsor and has set a car on fire. It is currently being put out.”

“What was the maximum output?” Peter asked, curiosity piqued.

“267% of the output of his last repulsor design.”

“How’d he do that without being flown backwards? Or melting the glove?”

“The former answer is that he didn’t. I have ordered a new desk for him. The latter you will need to ask yourself.”

Peter laughed and stood from the couch. “Thanks Fri!” He chimed as he ran to the elevator.

“How are we doing Friday?”

“There are no dangerous situations nearby, if you are referring to your senses. My guess would be that they were set off as Mr. Rogers entered the building.”

“Thanks Friday,” Peter said as he left the common area and hid in his bedroom. He figured now wasn’t a good time to meet, with the tension between Steve and Tony. (Steve, Sam, and Bucky started to hang around the tower after that. Peter wasn’t sure when they moved in, but he’s almost certain they live in the tower now. His spider sense stopped going off when he found them competing for 10th place in MarioKart.)

Peter swore Friday could read his mind. He could ask the vaguest question and she would know what he meant.

“Friday, what’s up?”

“Mr. Rogers forgot that metal cannot be microwaved. Mr. Wilson is handling the situation.”

“Thanks Fri. That’s awesome,” Peter snorted.

“Give me the tea, Friday,”

“Mr. Wilson has found the web shooters that you left on the kitchen table last night. He has since proceeded to web himself, Mr. Barnes, and Boss to the wall. I also estimate that seventy four percent of the room has been covered in your webs.”

Peter laughed.

“Boss has also asked that you bring your web dissolving solution to the common area.”

If Peter brought the slow working web dissolved, sue him. He wanted time to take pictures.

“What’s up Friday?”

“Lightning from the storm has hit the building, though all energy from the storm is being stored in batteries and poses no danger.”

“Thanks Fri. You’re the best.”

“What’s up, Fri?”

No answer. Peter was pretty sure he felt his spider sense kick up a notch. Or maybe it was the anxiety of knowing Friday wasn’t watching his back. Who knows?

“Fri?” He called out again. Still no answer.

“Tony!” Peter called, his spider sense racketing up again. He ran from his bedroom to find Tony.

He wasn’t in his bedroom, which freaked Peter out more than he knew it should have. It’s not like Tony was in his bedroom often. But still, it was one place Tony wasn’t during an emergency.

Peter races to the elecator, trying not to freak out because it was the first place he looked and Tony could be anywhere in the tower and fine.

Peter glanced out of the elevator and decided that Tony wasn’t in the common room either.

So he had to bye in the lab or in his office. Because those were the only two options. Nothing else was acceptable. It couldn’t happen, not again.

No. No freaking out until he knew something was wrong. Everything could be completely fine and Tony was just updating Friday and that was why she was offline and his spider sense just went off because he got anxious.

The elevator opened silently to the lab and Peter took in the situation in front of him. Three men in black had their backs turned to him. He couldn’t see any guns but he could guess that they were big by the way the men held their weight. Not exactly great. And all three guns were pointed at Tony. Tony, who had his hands up. Tony, who wasn’t fighting back. Tony, who didn’t have his fucking armor because Friday was down and he was completely exposed. Shit.

Tony made eye contact for the briefest second before looking back at the gunmen. His face never gave anything away, but Peter could hear him take fuller breaths, and could see his hands relax in the slightest. And it really shouldn’t be hitting Peter now that Tony trusted him to not screw it all up. That Tony trusted him with his life.

While making a quick plan, Peter was suddenly very thankful for a lot of things:

The gunmen had cornered Tony and hadn't had a lookout, so they didn’t see Peter.

Natasha worked with him on stealth just a few days ago.

Peter’s last project had been webfluid.

His desk was closer to the elevator than Tony’s.

He stalked over to his desk where his webshooters laid on the table, already filled with high-strength webs that he was working on yesterday. He strapped them to his wrists and, as a last minute decision, Peter snatched an Iron Man helmet that laid on a shelf to cover his face. He caught Tony’s small smirk at that.

It didn’t take long for Peter to web up the guys. He thinks they only had training in intimidation because they just kind of stood there and didn’t put up any fight. Eventually, they were escorted out by SHIELD, and Peter and Tony relocated to the common area soon after that.

(As soon as they were alone, Tony doubled over laughing.Honestly, Peter was concerned he was going to fall over as he gasped out something about “zombie Iron Man”. Apparently Peter didn’t realize that the Iron Man helmet he put on to save his identity had been tinkered with, and half of the outside casing had been removed, so Peter looked undead. Tony had Friday play the recording of the horror on the men’s faces, and Peter caught one of them muttering “They’ve come alive to kill us all.”)

“Fri, what’s happening?”

“Nothing of interest is taking place in the tower, though your blood sugar is abnormally low, probably due to the fact that you have not eaten since your patrol 4 hours ago. You are currently at high risk for fainting, and I recommend eating something.”

Peter made sure he got up slowly when he got a snack. “Thanks Fri.”

[buckthegrump]

IBTHNTTTY - 7

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Y/n hates Bucky Barnes. Absolutely loathes him what makes it worse is that she has to share her office with him. Now with a promotion on the horizon she has to find a way to work with him and not against him.

Word Count: 1237

Warnings: Angst (kind of), fluff,  wizard swears, a mild anxiety attack

A/n: y’all i got it and let’s just the next 3/4 parts are wild

The knowledge that the week was going to be a stressful one hit her bright and early Monday morning when she first walked in.

Natasha had called Y/n’s office phone with gossip. Typically Y/n was a sucker for gossip, but this particular piece gave Y/n anxiety.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard this or what’s happening, but,” Natasha said in place of a greeting, “I heard a rumor. And I want you to remember that this is just a rumor and could be false. But I heard that they’re going to post a job posting for a new proofreader.”

About three seconds after that reveal, Y/n hastily hung up the phone. If they were looking for a new proofreader, that meant one of two things. Number one, they were going to expand, and Y/n’s job was safe. Or, number two (the one that was the cause of the anxiety) there was going to be an opening for either her or Bucky’s jobs.

Then on Tuesday, she got an email signed by both Coulson and Maria saying they wanted a meeting on Friday. So all week she was stressed. The only part of the week that wasn’t bad was the date. Brock was surprisingly sweet for a guy that looked like he would’ve 100% bullied her in high school.

Friday came at an alarming rate. And as it turned out, Bucky had the same meeting with Y/n. This should’ve alleviated her nerves, but it only added to them.

“You need to breathe, they’re not going to fire you,” Bucky told her as they sat outside the conference room.

“I am breathing,” she lied. Her breathing was erratic, and she sounded a little like a dying car. “And you don’t know that, what if I did something so horrible that they’re just gonna boot me.”

“Have you done anything recently that would warrant termination?” Bucky asked calmly.

She glared at him. “If I knew I wouldn’t be freaking out, would I?”

“Y/n, Bucky,” Coulson called from the doorway. “Come on in.”

Y/n pulled herself together in record time and walked through the door. She and Bucky sat across from their bosses. Y/n could see Bucky flexing his left hand as if he were in pain, but this wasn’t the place to ask about it.

“Y/n, you can stop freaking out,” Maria told her, “you’re not losing your job.”

She could’ve let out a sob right then and there, she settled for sigh instead.

“We have a project for the two of you -” Coulson continued. The way that those two were in sync was a little creepy at times.

“We want you two to work together and do a mock-up for this manuscript,” Maria spoke. While Coulson put two manila envelopes on the table.

“You will have to work together, and should we like the finished product -” 

“The both of you will be promoted to editors,” after Maria spoke those words, Y/n was only half paying attention through the rest of the meeting.

Editor, that’s only what she’s been wanting for forever. And now she had to work with Bucky. Again. It’s almost like last weekend was a test for this, another test. How many tests were these two going to put her through?

Quit complaining, Y/n. You’re gonna be an editor.

“You have until December 20th to complete this task, and you are welcome to use whatever resources you need from the company,” Maria said.

* * *

After the meeting, they walked back to their office.

“So,” Bucky said once the door was closed behind them, “I think we should take this weekend to read the book and brainstorm our own ideas and then figure out which ones we like best on Monday.”

Y/n nodded. “Try not to only come up with dumb ideas.”

It was meant to come off as a joke, but she was still coming down from her anxiety high. So it was much harsher than she meant it to be. Or maybe it was the fact that they both had a job riding on this that forced them back into old habits.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you when you’re the one who suggested a title for a book that was already being used by another author with us,” Bucky said.

“That was years ago, and it was the middle of the night!” Y/n yelled.

“Doesn’t matter. It was still a dumb idea!”

“Oh, and how is that any worse than your idea to send a prospective author things that she was allergic to. Every gift you suggested could’ve killed her or made her sick,” she sneered.

“Oh forgive me, for not realizing that she was allergic to everything under the sun and then some,” Bucky waved his arms dramatically.

Y/n recognized that it was a dumb fight. But falling into a familiar feeling of arguing with Bucky was welcome after the week she’d had.

“I am not missing out on this promotion because you can’t pull your head out of your ass for three minutes,” Y/n said.

“I can’t pull my head out of my ass? How would you know where my head is when you’re is stuck so far up your ass you could eat your own stomach?” 

“Oh ho, he’s got jokes! Too bad your editorial ideas aren’t as original as them!”

They were standing toe to toe, chests heaving, unwilling to break eye contact with one another. If this had been a normal day, that would’ve been the moment when Peter politely knocked on the door to ask one of them a question. And Y/n kept waiting for that to happen before she remembered that Peter had the day off.

Meaning one of them was going to have to break first. And it wasn’t going to be her. As the minutes passed, she lost some of the fire in her chest, and her body relaxed.

“Awe, sunflower, are you getting lost in my eyes?” Bucky had a smug grin on his face, and Y/n wanted nothing more than to smack it off. “I wonder how long you’ve had this burning desire for me.”

“In your dreams, Barnes.”

“But then you wouldn’t get the full Bucky Barnes experience,” his grin widened.

“Careful, you’re toeing a very dangerous HR line.”

The good ol’ HR threat. A threat that they had both used countless times after an argument had possibly gotten out of hand. Neither of them had actually written a complaint, though. It hadn’t been used in a while, though, once again because Peter usually interrupted before it’d gotten that far.

Y/n hoped that they could convince him to stay, or at least she could. She would have to look into having him as her assistant when she became an editor. Hopefully, Bucky wouldn’t also ask him, but she wouldn’t let Bucky win that fight. And if they couldn’t get the kid to stay, she wasn’t sure how they would replace him.

Just as Y/n opened her mouth to say something else, a knock came at the door.

“Hey, Y/n? Are we still going for drinks?” Natasha’s voice was muffled by the door.

“Yeah,” Y/n called back, still not looking away from Bucky. “Just let me grab my coat.”

There was a brief pause before Y/n turned away and grabbed her things.

[enigma-im]

Danger Zone

Rating: Explicit Relationship: (Homemade)SCP x Female!human Warning: Violence, verbal abuse, forcible removal of limbs, work place bulling, sex, knotting, oral, monster sex

Word count: 6561

             A love story written in incident reports in a SCP file

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

ID#: KC-S4905 Object Class: Euclid Keter Description: 1.95m and 116.9kg Bipedal, long neck Black back hair. Lighter to the middle. Grey chest. Black crooked tail Human-esk face with a wide grin, multiple incisors. Flat nose and small eyes. Long erect ears similar to a border collie. White eyes generally obstructed by black bangs Front claws are ~ 5.59cm, hind claws are ~6.62cm muscle mass of 52%, ~10% higher than an average 20-year-old male.

Origin Found in Banff, the bottom half of Alberta Canada. A local fisherman reported traps being destroyed. Local deputy logged sightings of a 'bigfoot' in the area. A team was dispatched at 7/14/16 to investigate. Reported back 7/22/16 with clarification on the sighting. A tall black creature with a long neck and glowing white eyes. The team was approved to detain and capture the creature to be brought back to a base in South Dakota.

KC-S4905 was captured on 8/2/16. brought to base Fanning on 8/4/16. the creature was sedated, and detained in containment unit 23K-A. No further precautions made necessary besides 24/7 monitoring and a team of two at night. The creature remains cautious and hostile. He doesn't speak but is found to understand basic English. Follow commands but still lashes out when too close.

As of 8/6/16 creature KC-S4905 is logged and detained in Timbre Lake, South Dakota, Base Fanning.

The lab associates call him Kasey.

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

Incident logs (KC-S4905 & surrounding area)

10/14/16 2:23am - Motion sensor tripped in 23K-F. Guard reports nothing unusual.

The control panel light blinks at the bored guard. He sits with his head resting against his palm swiveling back and forth in his chair when the light catches his attention. He looks down, identifies the section it came from then with a sigh flips to the camera for that hallway. The guard studies the screen, looking for shadows or open doors but finds nothing. With another sigh, he sits up and pulls out his walkie.

"Who is close to 23K-F," he asks, yawning afterward.

His radio cracks to life, "I'm close, what's up?"

"Motion sensors went off on the third hallway. Please check it out, I'm not seeing anything on the monitors," he answers.

"On it."

The guard watches the screen until a figure walks around a corner. He watches as the man looks through the two rooms located in the hallway.

The radio beeps," I'm not seeing anything."

"Alright then. Probably a false alarm, thanks."

"Yea, anytime."

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

"Inserting 4mg of Midazolam into the upper arm. Should be good for another hour, two hours at most," the lab assistant spoke with unconcern. Just another monster to collect a sample from, nothing exciting for Brian Philips. Working here for eight years, you have seen it all. Having seen it all, Brian is pretty ok sticking with the 'grunt' work. Collect blood, hair, and tissue samples then send the big beast back to its cage.

"Can't imagine we need that kind of time, be in and out in, what, 30 minutes?" the guard, Princeton, asked. The guard rested against the wall closest to the door. He held a .50 cal. Pistol with sedative rounds. Security wasn't allowed to even have the opportunity to injure anyone or anything. Less the unit was deemed dangerous then all armed workers must use fast-acting tranquilizers.

"No time at all," Brian answered noncommittedly as he plucked some hairs from the creature's arm. Stuffing large tuffs into a bag, labeling, and placing it in storage before working on a tissue sample. He got flakes of skin, storing in the same fashion as the fur. Everything was simple and easy. But would you honestly believe that? This is an incident report after all.

Brian reached for a needle on the metal table. Sterilizing then finding a vein he slowly pricked the tip into the creature's skin. The second the point pierced the epidermis Kasey woke up.

Brian barely even registered the movement before the arm he was leaning next to thumped against his jaw, clamping his teeth over his tongue. Brian rolled back in his chair, only having enough time to taste the blood pouring from the end of his tongue. Next KC-S4905 rolled off the metal table and lashed out at the poor lab assistant, scratching across his shoulder, slapping him off the chair and onto the floor. A pop pierced the air as a weapon was fired. Princeton managed to get a hit on the creature's back before Kasey clawed at Brian's back with his long claws. Brian screamed as the knives cut through his coat and skin like paper. He felt it run from the back of his neck and down to the bottom of his ribs, his skin instantly burning as his muscles are introduced to the open air.

Another pop fills the room as Princeton fires again. The tranquilizer finally seems to do something as KC-S4905 swayed on his feet. His nails clicked against the tiled floor as he hobbled into the far wall. He caught himself on the brick before sliding down to the tiled floor. He lands on all fours, growling and shaking his head. Try as he must to rid the dizziness, it only got worse till he fell to the floor.

Princeton watched the creature with bated breath, his weapon clenched tightly in his terrified grip. His ears rang and he could feel sweat dripping from his brow. His body felt primed and ready for a fight but he knew there would be none, especially against something this big. As he watched the beast fall slack against the floor did he lower his weapon. He stopped and caught his breath, dropping his head so his chin bumps against his chest. His ears finally cleared enough to hear Brian crying against the floor.

Princeton reached for his walkie," I need medical at lab room 23K."

"Roger, medical is on their way," a voice answered back.

10/30/16- Lab assistant injured while collecting samples. Guard -Princeton Adams- fired 2 sedative rounds. Lab assistant suffered 3 lacerations on his shoulder and back. 25 stitches used. Higher precautions enabled.

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

11/9/16 1:14am - door alarm activated in container 23K-A. Guards report no tampering, door slightly ajar. The main door into the container is locked and sturdy. The investigation of the video shows nothing.

A piercing alarm startled security guard Pico Conwell. He was walking his rounds when the loud siren rang. With years of training he knew without evening thinking what it was. Pico ran down the hall, closer to the blaring call. He turned down the maze of hallways to see two other guards running with their weapons drawn to the floor.

Breach alert, everyone knew that sound, drilled it into their heads since day one. If you work around the beast that can kill you without a thought, you made sure to keep alert and aware.

Pico and his fellow guards came to the unit where the call came from, 23K-A. Pico walked ahead of the group, as a senior resident it was his duty to scope the scene first. He walked down the hall to a slightly ajar door, keeping wide breath with his weapon pointed to the floor. Many times these calls have been just a newbie trying to get some work done and messing up the access protocols. No need to have your weapon out to scare any poor workers dumb enough to trip an alarm.

Finally getting around the door he was able to look inside. Years of experience he knew to check the containment door first. If that door was open then extra caution is necessary. The door was still sealed, the light above glowing green. It was locked and untampered. Pico looked around the small room, almost a hallway, and found nothing out of sorts.

He walked out the room to the two other guards," Nothing amiss, perhaps one of the techies didn't close it all the way. The main door is still shut, call maintenance down to turn the alarm off, and check the lock."

"On it," someone answers.

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

12/22/16- An altercation between guard and doctor. Nonviolent, but harassment charges were filed against a guard, Princeton Adams, from Dr. Janet Wilco.

Dr. Janet Wilco was assigned to KC-S4905 after the incident with Brian Philips. Having experience with aggressive subjects she is all the more qualified to be part of this project. Some don't seem to see it that way, such as Princeton Adam. He was always tense whenever KC-S4905 was in the room, also questioning everyone to make sure the subject was really out. It irked Dr. Wilco to no end, having some overpaid babysitter to stand there with a gun acting like he knows even a smidge of medicine.

Today was no different.

"The beast is properly sedated," he asked as they wheeled KC-S4905 in. Dr. Wilco passed an unamused glance at Princeton.

"Of course Mr. Adams, we do know how to do our jobs," Dr. Wilco passed with a barely restrained sneer.

Princeton chuffed," So far as you think."

"What is that suppose to mean Mr. Adams?" Dr. Wilco turned to Princeton, her sneakers scuffing against the floor. Princeton looked down at her with an unentertained grin. Dr. Wilco felt patronized at the look.

"It means that if you techies knew how to do your job then Dr. Philips wouldn't be in the hospital," he bent low to be eye level," So excuse me for being sure. I rather not see your pretty face get all clawed up like Brian's back."

"You listen here you-," Dr. Wilco paused before she said something she regretted. Princeton chuffed again with more amusement. Dr. Wilco collected herself before speaking again. "The first time was because we assumed we knew the correct dose to be used on the subject. He burned through it pretty fast and now we know the correct amount to use that would both sedate him and not kill him. So if you would stop questioning me every time I do my job, I think we could be done with these little check-ups quickly," she answered with more professionalism than she believes she could muster.

Princeton stood straight with arms crossed. The conversation seemingly over Dr. Wilco turned and got back to work. It's with an off the shoulder comment did she lose her cool and give Princeton a tongue lashing that made even the second guard present blush.

Everyone heard, and everyone had thoughts on the matter. And when I do say everyone, I do mean everyone.

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

The guards' room is under surveillance 24/7. the area is more of an apartment than anything else. Having bunk beds present and a fully functioning kitchen in the same room. Another room attached has a lounge and a locker wall. It’s a comfortable enough place for guards to take their breaks, store their items, and catch up on some sleep before their next shift. Some believe it has to be the safest place in the building with its gun locker and lockdown functions.

It wouldn't be true as of Dec 23, 2016.

Princeton Adams settled down for a nap around midnight. Perhaps 40 minutes later the cameras go on the fritz, looking like the visuals were in a snowstorm with all the static. After about 5 minutes the screen cuts off, completely black, completely silent.

When the camera comes back on its around one in the morning. The screen shows Princeton resting against the floor surrounded by other workers, both guards and scientists alike. He was screaming and holding his face with bloody hands. His wails alerted residents in the hallway to rush to his location. As they reached him there was only him and severe cuts on his chest and face.

Princeton was rushed to medical. Treated for his wounds and given blood as most of his was on the floor of the guards' bedroom. Once he was settled and able to answer some question he was of no help. He remembers going to sleep then waking to a burning pain on his bare chest. He startled awake where he caught sight of a dark figure with white eyes. Before his eyes could adjust he was slapped across the face and promptly mauled.

Guards remain vigilant, no leads are found.

12/23/16 12:56am- Motion sensors tripped in guards' quarters in unit 23. One guard critically injured with lacerations across the chest and face. Guard was identified as Princeton Adams. The video cuts out before any movement is detected, coming back to the guard being surrounded by workers. All guards are permitted to hold live ammo with them at all times.

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

"giving 6mg of Midazolam," lab assistant Amy Borrell called to the room. Dr. Wilco nodded but focused on her clipboard, recording vitals as she walked to the cabinets. Once she finished she set her board down and began searching for supplies. Grabbing what she needs and set them on the metal rolling table. She glances at the large creature passed out on the table.

Wilco has always been fascinated by the strange and unusual. As a child, she adored watching monster flicks and horror movies. Amazed by the practical effects of monsters and how they are made. They have always had an allure to them, something captivating that Janet couldn't put her finger on. Her two career choices as a teenager were a doctor and special effects artist. As we all can see she has chosen to go the medical route. Lucky for her it brought her straight to this job. It’s a dream come true for Janet to work with monsters.

Looking at KC-S4905 or, as Dr. Wilco heard his alternate name, Kasey, she felt a kinship with him. She couldn't describe it but this creature has stood out to her, more than any of the others she has worked around. Perhaps it was his long neck or pointed teeth. Maybe it was his muscular body or piercing eyes. Either way, it wasn't something Dr. Wilco could put her finger on.

Continuing on with her work she was first to reach for the subject. As her gloved fingers brushed against his fur she noticed his stomach tense. Before she had time to even say a word Kasey lifted his head and snatched Wilco's arm. She immediately tried to jerk herself out of his hold but he held firm. White cold fear ran down her spine before she looked up at Kasey's white eyes and a wide smile. They both held each other's gaze as the room went silent. Nobody moved, nobody breathed.

Dr. Wilco stared into his piercing eyes and could only think, 'is he purring?"

1/3/17- The doctor grabbed during sample gathering. KC-S4905 was sedated but woke long enough to grab Dr. Wilco's arm. No injuries sustained, mandatory therapist meetings required to find further damages. Though the creature doesn't project mental abilities, precaution is used.

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

1/4/17- door alarm activated in unit 23 worker's locker room. All lockers were opened, nothing reported stolen besides a single lab coat in locker 142. Owner not identified having refuse to step forward.

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

Dr. Bradshaw was added to the project shortly after Dr. Wilco. He was a stubborn man, perhaps a bit sexist or racist. Could be he just doesn't like Dr. Wilco. The two constantly butt heads during work, arguing over the simplest things till they both were red in the face.

One day that workplace arguing got a little too out of hand

"Dr. Wilco, do you insist on doing things the hard way? Does it make you feel like you are important," Dr. Bradshaw snarked. Dr. Wilco was currently setting up the IV drip for when they start surgery on Kasey, KC-S4905.

"And do you feel like a big man when you belittle coworkers," she snapped back. Before Dr. Bradshaw could retort back the door opened as Kas- KC-S4905 is rolled in.

The process went smoothly as lab assistants set up the heart pads and IV. Doctors cleaned up nearby wearing scrubs and gloves.

"Think you can handle something like this, wouldn’t want you to get cold feet in the middle of this operation on your little boyfriend," Dr. Bradshaw snorted. Ever since Janet was grabbed most of her coworkers have called her beauty. Referring to Beauty and the Beast or King Kong in their jesting. It didn't bother her, the names meant nothing. The situation around Kasey's gentle hold was more startling than their jokes. Still, when it comes from Dr. Bradshaw it's all the more aggravating.

"I should handle well. I'm more curious if you will be fine, I heard that you sometimes get squeamish around blood," She chuckles as does a few others in the room. Dr. Bradshaw is secretly known for his fainting in his younger days when he first drew blood. Having moved far away from the area it still sticks with him.

"Who told you that," Dr. Bradshaw snapped. It was shocking to Janet and most others in the room. Dr. Bradshaw turned and snarled down at Dr. Wilco, "Who told you, tell me you little bitch!"

"Whoa, Whoa," I held up my hands as I backed away," it's just a joke, calm down." Dr. Bradshaw continued his pursuit with fist clenched at his sides.

"No, it's not just some joke. I spent years of my career perfecting my skills and gaining great recognition. I do not deserve to be belittled by some woman for something that happened years ago," he backs her to the surgery table. Dr. Wilco braces her hands on the cold metal, looking around at the others for help.

"Hey, you're right. I'm sorry, how about we forget this and get back to work," she tried to deescalate. He was having none of it.

"No, fuck you, Janet. You dumb slut, I worked hard for this and I don’t want to hear your mouth anymore. So do us all a favor and know your fucking place," he snarled in her face. Before anyone could react he raised his hand and backhanded Dr. Wilco to the floor. She fell to her hands, banging her knees on the ground. Dr. Bradshaw seethed above her, feeling a little proud of himself.

It isn't until a loud growl pierces the air does anyone look away from the slapped woman. Dr. Bradshaw looks up in time to see an open mouth lunging for his face. He backs up enough to fall to the floor, but before he can make it a hand grabs his forearm. Quickly teeth sink around Dr. Bradshaw's elbow, scraping against the bone before his whole body is pushed away. He screams and flails, beating against the creature as he shakes his head. Soon Dr. Bradshaw falls to the ground, landing partially on a growing pile of blood. The creature lashes at him, cutting over his chest as two loud pops fill the room. The beast stops, Dr. Bradshaw stares at bloody teeth and closing eyes, seeing his mauled arm resting in its mouth. Then the creature falls to the floor, making its own pile of blood.

Guards usher workers out of the room and Dr. Bradshaw is dragged into the halls before being taken to medical. Kasey lays on the floor, barely catching his breath as he watches Janet look back before turning the corner and out of sight.

1/23/17- Altercation between Dr. Wilco and Dr. Bradshaw. Violence was used by Dr. Bradshaw and Dr. Wilco was forced back into a table. KC-S4905 woke from the sedative and attacked Dr. Bradshaw. Two live rounds were shot into the creature's leg and shoulder. Dr. Bradshaw is now in critical condition. His left arm forcibly detached from his elbow down. Medical was able to reattach the arm, he remains in their care till further notice. KC-S4905 was sedated and treated for injuries. Remaining in his cell until further notice, no interactions. Food is distributed by guards now.

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

1/26/17 2:30am- unauthorized entry into unit 23K-A. No further info provided

Dr. Wilco believes she has to see him. The day runs over and over in her mind all week. She is questioned and monitored like crazy before they leave her alone, moving on to another witness. As she spends her time alone, checking up on the camera watching Kasey, she thinks. Did he attack the first person he saw? Where the sedatives, not enough? Or where they never enough and he was always watching, listening? Then the ultimate questions circling her mind.

Did he do it for her?

After hours of thinking, making a decision then backing out, she goes for it. Nabbing a temporary pass from the office then sneaking down to containment. She cards herself in then stops in the first room. Closing the door silently behind herself she watches Kasey rest in the corner of his room. He is lounging in a circle, similar to a dog. His eyes were closed when she walked it but a few seconds later they are opened and staring straight at her.

Janet walks closer to the window, looking at his shaved shoulder. The director demanded medical to treat his wounds before he bled to death. They had to shave his fur to get a better look. The wound looks good, almost scarred. Fast healing was a thing that was recorded so it's not too surprising.

Kasey followed Janet's movements, too curious to look away. He couldn't think of a reason for her being here but accepted the blessing for what it was. He watches as she fiddles with her fingers, looking behind herself once in a while. She looks like she wants to say something, Kasey is eager to listen.

"Thank you," she answers. Kasey just barely catches it behind the thick glass. "I don't know if you attacked Dr. Bradshaw for me or you were just attacking out of fear but I still appreciate it either way. He was a very rude man. He didn’t die so I think I'm allowed to speak ill of him," she chuckled at the end," I read you can understand us for the most part, so… do you understand me?"

Kasey nodded.

"Oh," she started, shocked," good then. So, thank you and I need to go." she scurried off, closing the door quietly behind herself. Kasey figures quickly that she wasn't supposed to be in here. The camera most likely picked up here coming and going from here, Kasey would deal with it.

When the night progressed Kasey assumed it would be safe enough to travel. He moved the tile on the floor, shoving a lab coat out of the way before escaping.

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

2/1/17- routine cleaning of 23K-A finds a lab coat hidden behind a floor tile. Coat belongs to Dr. Wilco.

2/1/17- subject upgraded from Euclid to Keter

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

3/5/17- KC-S4905 drugged for a check-up. Took well to the new substances. Precaution; table with limb locks used. The creature managed to fight stronger sedatives used for transportation and cornered Dr. Wilco to the far wall. No shots fired, creature retreated on their own. Dr. Wilco sustained no injuries. Therapy sessions mandatory. Partial transcript below.

Transcript: Janet Wilco and Dr. Jung ….. Dr. Jung: You say that he spoke to you?

Dr. Wilco: yes. He had a deep gravely voice that kind of rumbles into my chest.

Dr. Jung: what did he say?

silence

Dr. Jung: go on, it's ok. The more we know the better, but don't feel pressured. ok, Janet?

Dr. Wilco: He said 'you smell like roses'.

Dr. Jung: is that all he said?

Dr. Wilco: …Yes.

…..

End.

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

3/7/17- with constant incidents with Dr. Janet Wilco, she is now assigned to a different unit.

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

3/24/17- Door alarm activated in the Doctor locker room in unit 23. all lockers open similar to 1/4/20 incident. Nothing was stolen. Locker 142 door was forcibly removed. The locker is currently empty, as was at the time of the incident.

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

4/2/17- Guard doing patrol reported to odd noises coming from Break Room 32C in unit 20. The call was made at 4:22am to control. Transcript below.

Transcript: Security guard Jose Pérez ….. Pérez: I hear a strange noise coming from 32C in unit 20. request to investigate

Control: go ahead. Stay on the line

Pérez: copy

sound of footsteps

Pérez: Hello! Anyone in here? I am currently armed so make yourself known now.

Footsteps followed by soft groaning noises

Pérez: Hello? Please make yourself known now.

Background feminine voice: Kasey

Pérez: Miss? Are you injured? Say something, miss.

Control: Have you found who was making the noise?

Pérez: No, I hear someone.

Growling and high wails

Pérez: Oh Fuck. I think someone is getting mauled.

Frantic footsteps. Wails increasing in volumes

Control: Pérez report

Pérez: Oh god.

Control: Report

shouting and growling

…..

End

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

Janet unbuttons her top in the empty locker room. Her mind wonders a mile a minute as she thinks back on her time working on the KC project. She finds the audacity to reassign her ridiculous. It was hardly her fault that things went the way they did. Some coworkers were insufferable, that had nothing to do with her. Then the attacks linked back to the subject wasn't her doings either. Its impressive that Kasey managed to avoid detection for so long, sneaking out the tile on the floor. There are theories being pushed about between workers about how he managed to dig a hole without being noticed. It’s a curious thing.

Janet dressed into her casual clothes, ready to head to the bunks to get some rest. She closes the locker, it clicking into place, before reaching to the bench for her bag. As she grabs the handle she faintly hears a different clicking sound. She stills, looking around the room. She listens, hearing nothing she calls out.

"Hello," her voice echoes throughout the room. The clicking starts again, coming from behind the wall of lockers in front of her. She waits for an answers, a sign of someone else being here. Janet waits with bated breath for any indication.

"You left," a deep gravely voice calls from behind her. Startled, Janet jumps, turning quickly to the source of the voice. At first she sees nothing, the room mostly dark as she didn’t bother turning more than one set of lights on. It isn't till two white eyes meet hers does she know who it is.

The soft sound of nails clicking against metal is all she hears as he shifts into the light. He sits perched above the lockers, crouched on all fours. Above him a ceiling panels is missing. As he gets closer, his hand slamming against a locker, Janet steps back. The back of her knee bumps the bench, making her sit.

"You left, Janet," he growls out again. He sneers, his teeth shining in the low light of the room. Janet sits there in a mix of emotions. Startled, confused, alarmed, but curious.

"Left what," she manages to ask. Kasey growls at her answer, jumping down off the lockers and onto the floor. He quickly makes his way to Janet, clawing his fingers into the wooden bench on either side of her. Janet sucks in a gasp, tilting away as she comes face to face with him.

"You weren't there anymore," he huffs. Janet sits back as far as she can on her hands, her head turned away. He seethes on her face, sitting inches away.

"I-I had no choice," she chokes out.

"No choice," he hisses.

"Yea, I had no choice. I was reassigned," she whimpers. His nearness and low rumbling growls do nothing to settle her nerves. Despite her lately romanticizing thoughts of his actions she wasn't naïve enough to apply them here. Not when his sharp incisors are inches from her cheek.

Kasey clenches the bench tightly, unapproving of the attempts to rid her. Finding her was a challenge for him, not knowing where she could be. It was frustrating the first time he was sedated since she left, not getting to inhale her comforting scent during such a stressful time. That would be the first time he let the affects of the sedative alter his alertness. If she wasn't there then he didn't want to be either.

"They tried to keep you away from me," he bumps his head against hers," but they cannot keep me from you."

As he begins to rub his face against her she lets those thoughts come unfiltered. So he is interested, that’s a not so uninteresting thought as she figured it would. Ever since Janet first met him she was impressed with what she saw. He is appealing in ways men she has been with before have not. He has protected her when others haven't and he seems devoted to her. It was a strange thought but Janet is all for it.

Janet turns into him, rubbing her cheek against his. She lifts one hand to his on the bench, feeling his warm fur against her fingers. She startles a bit when he begins to purr, just like the first time he touched her. Janet licks her lips before stroking up his arm and around to his shoulder. She can feel the rumbling of his pleased growls. As she reaches his neck he licks up her's. Janet gasps, the tingling sensation running down her spine and into her crotch. Her nails dig into his fur, grabbing it by the fistful as he settles her shoulder in his mouth. His sharp dangerous teeth barely dig into her skin.

"No one can keep you from me, " he growls around his mouthful," I will have you this night." One hand unbeds itself from the bench and rests against Janet's back. He tugs her forward till her chest is flush with his. The feeling of her in his arms, safe against him, makes his chest feel full. Yes, he will have her this night.

"o-ok," Janet answers a bit dazed. She knows this should be alarming, if not off putting, but Janet doesn't care. This feels right, that’s the only thing that has felt right in a long while.

Kasey purrs with a large grin, all the more excited now his female accepted this, accepted him. He licks and nibbles her neck as his hand pets and gropes her hips. His cock hot and ready but the little he knows about females, let alone human females, is that she needs more time to be ready. Kasey slides her off the bench and onto the floor, his eagerness showing between their bodies.

Janet gets a slight view of his rod, it being too dark to see it all. She does notice a large bulb at his base, before she can question it her shirt is ripped open. Janet yelps as her body jiggles with the sudden force. Her bra is ripped next leaving her bare and open to Kasey's all too pleased gaze. He likes what he sees, reaching out and groping her chest with both hands. Janet sits back on the cold floor, arms resting on either side of her head. She chuckles to herself at the absurdity of the situation. The strangeness is outweighed by the heat in her pants as his claws carefully pinch at her skin.

Her clothes are removed promptly, Kasey excited to bury himself into her awaiting heat, not before he gets a taste. Janet watches as he rests on his stomach, staring down with his wide grin at her cunt. He licks his lips, Janet groans with anticipation. They both wait with bated breath as he lowers his mouth to her, quickly licking a long stripe up her. They both moan at the feeling. Kasey already believing she is the best tasting thing on the planet. Janet can't believe she is really getting eaten out by one the monsters she works with.

Kasey worships her with his mouth, licking up every drop of her. He grunts and groans against her as his cock pulses against the floor. His palms cup her ass as he grind her into his face. His back nails dig into the concrete floor as he fights the urge to buck against the ground.

Janet whimpers and cries out, squirming in his hold as she fists her hair. She fights her fast approaching climax, wanting to ride his mouth just a little longer. Its when she feels his nails prick against her skin, feels his rumbling purrs against her, and sees his tail wagging behind him does she give up on the fight. With a shout and an arch of her back does she cum on his face.

Kasey licks up every drop, adoring the way she wiggles in his hold and buck against his tongue. Oh he plans to do that often. He think about doing it again till his cock pulses again between his stomach and the cold ground. Hearing Janet cry out had him nearly cumming on the floor, wasting his seed on his chest rather than inside her.

Janet pants as she watches Kasey climb up her body. His teeth sparkle in the light making her shudder as she knows some of her slick is on those teeth. Janet reaches out for him, wrapping her arms around his neck as he settles above her. He leans down and licks over her mouth, delving in when she opens for him. Janet sucks on his tongue, carding her finger through his hair as she does.

As Janet is busy Kasey takes the time to align himself with her awaiting heat. His eyes roll back as his tip presses to her hole. Kasey grabs her hips and sits up to watch himself enter her. Looking down at his cock he passes just a glance up at Janet. He takes in her overeager grin, her heaving chest, and flush cheeks. Kasey adores what he can do to her, knowing fully well he is the reason she is so ragged looking. He smirks down at her before pressing in.

Janet chokes on a gasp as his cock fills her up. The stretch is divine as is the feeling of his fur sliding across her thighs. He rests against her thighs with a grunt, finally settled as far as he is willing to go for now. She will take his knot later. He lightly bucks his hips at the thought.

He thrusts into her without a care. Janet can feel him deep inside her, her walls fluttering around him as she watches his hips slam into her's. he holds her, pulling her against him with each beautiful glide of his cock. He already feels ready to burst, ready to give in to her tight cunt. Janet sits in for the ride, watching every clench of his stomach, every hiss coming from between his teeth, and hear the clap of their hips. She can't stop the whimpers and cries the escape her parted lips.

"Kasey," Janet shouts as he slams into her. He gives up on watching her pussy take him and falls to his hands. He wildly thrusts into her, completely adoring the way she grips his cock. He can't hold on any longer, she has to take him completely.

He slaps his hips harder into her, opening her thigh wider with a hand as he tries to force his knot. Janet feels the hard piece begging for entrance. Was this the bulb as his base? She isn't quite sure she can take that as she already feels completely stuffed. Kasey doesn't quit in his efforts, leaning into her with a particularly hard buck of his hips. He feels her give just a bit, he keeps pushing. Kasey feels her open for him, allowing just enough room for him to pop into place.

"Agh, fuck." Janet groans and Kasey whimpers into her neck. His high pitched wails make Janet hold him closer, petting along his hair as she tries to adjust to the new intrusion.

"Perfect, too perfect," Kasey cries out. He gives small bucks of his hips that drive Janet wild. She gives in faster than she thought possible, clenching and spasming around him. Kasey whimpers louder as she grips him harder than he could ever imagine. His tongue hangs out his mouth, panting as his thighs shake. His balls clench up and when he listens to her own cries of pleasure does he shoot his seed into her. He turns his head and sinks his teeth into her soft, delicate flesh. He is only mildly aware of how fragile she is, holding back just barely as he marks his mate.

Kasey and Janet catch their breath on the now warm floor. Janet's sweat sticks to Kasey's fur. Kasey's teeth sit just barely in Janet's flesh. They can both barely hear the sound of his tail wagging behind them. Janet would laugh if she wasn't so exhausted. Instead she sits lax against the floor hearing a soft keening coming from Kasey.

"You alright," Janet asks. Kasey finally lets her go, sitting up to look down at her. His wide grin show off his blood stained teeth. He licks them clean before resting his head to hers.

"Perfect," he grumbles. They share a smile, all too content with what they have done.

Janet still feels Kasey cumming, his hot load making her squirm in frustration. Kasey looks between them before meeting her eyes, he tilts his head in questions before running his hand down her stomach. Janet nods, dropping her head back as his hand meets her clit. He rubs her as his hips buck. As he listens to her cries of pleasure he misses the sound of a door opening.

Upon later reflection he blames himself for what happens, knowing he is way more aware than this.

As she cums on his cock for the second time a man calls out from behind them. Kasey looks over his shoulder to see a guard pointing a gun at them both. Quickly Kasey pulls out of Janet's all too comfortable cunt. He winces along with Janet at the pain but its short lived before he picks her up.

Kasey settles Janet in the corner of the room, holding himself as a shield in front of her. Kasey snarls and growls at the guard, protecting his new mate from the intruder. Kasey's mind was still a bit fuzzy but he knew that he needed to protect her. He will protect her.

4/2/17- Guards flank to storage room 32C to scene of subject KC-S4905 and Dr. Wilco copulating on the floor. Backed into a corner, KC-S4905 hides Dr. Wilco in the corner while snarling at security. No shots fired, all participants go willingly.

4/2/17- Medical eval. Shows semen found in and around Janet Wilco's vagina. Bruises covering most of the inner thigh, hips, and one on her neck. Small cuts on her posterior and hips. minuscule puncture wounds on her neck and shoulder. No serious injuries. Psych eval. Results are inconclusive.

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

4/5/17- Dr. Janet Wilco is forcibly let go and on constant surveillance until further notice.

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

5/23/17- Despite transferring to a more secure containment, KC-S4905 has escaped the facility.

5/23/17- Janet Wilco is missing.

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

KC-S4905 is still currently missing. Janet Wilco's missing person search has been disbanded and she is now considered dead as of 2/25/18

End of KC-S4905 (Kasey)

Director Cameron H. Stanley

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

If you made it to the end I'm proud of you. this is extremely experimental and I figure most people won’t enjoy this. I know little to nothing about SCP stuff but I was reading one and I got this idea to tell a love story in one. At first, it was just incident reports and no little story bits in the middle. but it got away from me and here we are.

I realized like halfway through this that I was pretty much ripping off Strigoi boyfriend from Somanyfangs on twitter (I tried posting the link but its not working). so credit is due here. besides that, this was all original. I hope you liked it cause I'm so iffy on this one.

Check out my Archive | Masterlist| Main Blog

[foreverfangirlalways]

What’s Your Name? (Chapter 2)

Chapter Title: Coffee, Cafes, and Conversations

Summery: Logan talks with Remy, and Virgil tells Patton about his encounter. Remy and Virgil also have a very interesting phone call.

Ships: Analogical, RemyxCriticxEmile, Moceit

Warning: teasing, threats, foreshadowing, pastshadowing(?), obvious gays being oblivious

-let me know if I need to add more warnings-

(please give some love to my wonderful cowriter @star-crossed-shipper, as well as @kuroyurishion, who has given me quite a few ideas for future chapters!)

/I totally projected my best friend and I’s dynamic onto Remy and Virgil’s dynamic, incase anyone is wondering why they act like they do!\

<A super mega thank you to @winterknight1087! They give me ideas on Remy’s partners and certain plot points for this chapter, including the bit about why Logan got a job working for Remy!>

*if you want, message me or comment with theories of what happens next! I’ll credit you of course, I just want readers input on how the story should go!*

—-

Logan had just finished restocking the sugar racks when Remy came busting through the door.

“What’s up bitches? Your favorite insomniatic slut is here and just got two cuties to love and cherish!”

Remy sat on the counter and Logan handed Remy his specialty coffee, totally not trying to butter him up or anything.

“Ah, my favorite employer. You have returned. So, how did your romantic endeavors go? Was my guess of woe correct?” Logan asked, watching Remy take a big gulp of his drink the sigh.

“Nope! It was what onderful! He was so sweet, likes cartoons, and even helps people! He’s an angel. I’ve been friends with him since middle school, and we were just catching up. His boyfriend is just like him, and we were actually partners in a few classes when I was still in college. We all met at the park and then went for brunch. I commented on how they look like such a happy couple and I wish I could have that, and then they invited me to join in their relationship! They both confessed to liking me and long story short, I am now in a polygamous relationship with my childhood friend Critic and my psychology partner Emile!”

“Wow.” Logan said, looking faintly surprised. “I’m impressed. You got two boyfriends and I didn’t even manage to get his name.”

Remy whipped around and hopped off the counter. He set down his drink and leaned over the counter with his chin atop his hands.

“So Logie,” Remy smirked, “whose the guy? You told me that you pride yourself on being able to make people trust you enough to get names from them without using your fae magic. That’s the whole reason you wanted this job. Well, aside from having the privilege of working for me, of course.”

Logan nodded. “I know. People typically throw their names at me way too trustingly, but I don’t think he trusts very easily. It’s a shame, he is extremely aesthetically appeasing. I even tried to non-magically charm him and it still didn’t work. He definitely has walls.”

Remy nods like he understands, but the smirk has yet to leave his face.

“Ooo, so Logan, who’s the hottie that evaded you and your flirting? Was he a regular?”

Logan shook his head. “I’ve never seen him before but he said he knows you.”

Remy raises his eyebrow and takes a sip of his drink.

“The name he gave me was Anxiety.”

“SPPPTTHTT!” Remy spewed out coffee. Logan looked alarmed, but Remy more so.

“No shit?! He visited? And I missed it? You think he’s hot? Oh, oh Logan. I’ve known Anx my whole life, he’s like a little brother. All I can say is good luck. And be patient.”

Logan wipes up the mess and responds. “I shall take your words into consideration. I’ll admit, I got frustrated because he has been the first to give me a false name, and I really wanted his name, but if it takes time for me to break down his walls it shall be time well spent.”

Remy nods and a very serious look passed over his face. He grabs Logan by the tie, pulling, and Logan is so startled he drops his rag.

“It will be time well spent because if you even so much as accidentally put too much foam into his ‘Damnit Karen’, I will fire you in more ways then one. Am I understood?”

“Perfectly.” Logan said while straitening his tie. He then got an idea.

“Say Remy, what did you say his name was again?”

Remy tilts his head.

“Anxiety?”

“No, you called him by another name.”

Remy thought for a moment the made an ‘o’ with his mouth.

“Anx? Yeah, that’s just a childhood nickname I gave-“

Remy looks at Logan slightly disappointingly and crosses his arms.

“...him. And if you want his true name, you can make him trust you enough to get it without using your magic. And if you try with any of your tricks, keep in mind that I know just what type of paralyzing  nightmares to send your way.”

Logan blinked and picked up his rag. Despite his particular stand as a fae, he does not like people to know of it, and he does not like to use his magic on people.

However, Remy knows of Logan’s standing and magical capabilities, and is the only person that can truly intimidate Logan.

“I can tell that Anxiety is very close to you. And you are extremely protective of him. I never had any intentions of using magic on him, and if anything, that decision has just been solidified.”

Remy looked satisfied with that response. He started to walk away, and in a burst of nervous energy, recklessness, and perhaps a slight death wish, Logan called out.

“Remy, wait.”

Remy turned around and raised his eyebrow.

“Yes?”

Logan swallowed and adjusted his glasses.

“I promise I will never use magic on him unless I have your permission and his consent, but I was wondering if you would mind if I... try to get his name using different tactics?”

Remy crosses his arms and steps forward. “What tactics?”

“... uhh, well, charming him? If that is approvable.”

Remy swiped his hand over his face and huffed out a laugh. Then the laugh got stronger and he flopped into the nearest chair.

“So let me get the stra- let me get this gay, you want my permission to flirt with my little brother?”

“Yes...?”

Remy rolled his eyes. “For such a smart person, you are a complete dumbass. Do you remember when I told you about one of my friends that I basically adopted and we were roommates before I opened up shop?”

“Yes, you told me that we would be a cute couple and your ‘otp’ ?”

“Uhuh, the friend is Anxiety.”

Logan’s mouth dropped open in shock. Remy shook his head, still chuckling.

“Yes, I give you permission to flirt.”

“Thank you Remy. Would you like me to keep you updated? I could ‘spill the tea’ as you say.”

“Oh, absolutely! Now, excuses me, I have a brother to call and get his side of the story. And we are going to talk afterwards too, so don’t go to far! I’m sure you want to know if he finds you hot too.”

Logan finished up an order and smirked. “Oh, he does.”

Remy walked to his office and laughed. “I can’t wait to hear this.”

-_-_-_-

Virgil left Bitchin’ Brews, he headed straight to Sunshine Daycare.

‘Alright, so, Patton gets off at 12, five minutes. He can give me advice...’

Virgil stood beside the entrance, and waited. Patton exited, saw Virgil, and ran to him.

“Virgil! Hi! What are you doing here?” Patton asked while hugging him.

“Hey Pat. I was wondering if you wanna have lunch together? I kinda want to talk to you about a few things...”

Patton nodded and looped his arm through Virgil’s. “Sounds perfect. Let’s go to The Mindpalace Cafe and chat!”

Once they were seated and ordered their drinks, Virgil cleared his throat.

“Ok, so, I wanted to talk to you and get advice about this thing that happened this morning. I went to go see Remy, but he was not there. There was the really attractive barista, and he told me Remy was out, getting a boyfriend or something.”

Patton nodded along, but was slightly confused.

“Ok I get that, but I don’t understand what’s wrong?”

“Well... he’s fae. He asked for my name, got upset when I said Anxiety, and completely blanched when I called him out on being fae.”

Patton instantly became concerned. He grabbed Virgil’s arm, started checking his pulse.

“Did he enchant you? Your pulse is normal, but did he? Is that what this is about? I’m so sorry Virgil, I can’t believe this happened aga-“

Virgil leaned over and pressed his hand to Patton’s mouth.

“No, nothing like that. He didn’t enchant me or anything, he just got a bit frustrated with me for not giving my name.”

Removing his hand and seeing that Patton’s still confused, he continued.

“I need you thoughts and advice because... he flirted with me to get my name. No enchant, regular flirting. I didn’t give it to him, of course, but how do I go back? That’s my favorite coffee shop, Remy is there, you are laughing. Why are you laughing?”

Patton composed himself and shook his head. “Virgil, sweetie, as one of your best friends I say this to you with the upmost respect... you’re kind of stupid.”

Virgil looked as insulted as he felt.

“Please don’t be offended Verge, I just don’t understand your problem. A person you find attractive, flirted with you, didn’t enchant or take advantage of you in anyway, and only got slightly offended. I see nothing wrong.”

Virgil couldn’t believe his ears. He rubbed his forehead, trying not to groan aloud.

“Seriously Pat? I’m anxious about everything! I don’t trust the fae, and I don’t know if I can trust the barista. How can I go to Remy’s if I can’t trust the person who works there?”

Patton pondered that. After a few moments, he held up a hand.

“Oh! I know!”

“Yes Patton?”

“Talk to Remy. If he has done nothing wrong, simply ask Remy if you think it would be wise to stay in contact with the cute barista. He will understand your concerns.”

Virgil was amazed. He fiddled with the edge of his sleeve and looked up.

“That’s great advice! Uhhh, I should have thought of it.”

Giggling, Patton patted Virgil on the head. “It’s ok, here’s a Patton pat. At least we get lunch!”

After lunch, Patton and Virgil parted. Virgil heads to his dorm, and his phone rings as soon as he shuts the door.

“Remy? Hey! What’s up?”

“Bitch, how the hell am I supposed to know? You never talk to me anymore!”

“Hey, don’t blame me, I came by today, and you weren’t there.”

Remy sighed. “Yeah, sorry about that. I was at a brunch. Speaking of, do you remember Critic?”

Virgil removed his boots and jumped onto his bed.

“The Critic you wanted to ask to prom but chickened out? Both years?”

“Yes you asshole. That Critic. I thought I said we were never to mention that again?”

“No, you said you wouldn’t. I just got more ice cream for you.”

“ALRIGHT! Enough about that, anyways, the reason I asked was because I am now dating Critic and his boyfriend Emile.”

“The sa-“

“Yes! That Emile.”

Virgil laughed. “Alright, congrats dude! I’ll give them the brother talk next time I see them.”

“No, please don’t. Changing subject, what happened when you came to the shop?”

Taking a deep breath, Virgil prepared himself. “Well, I met your barista. He’s fae. And he asked for my name.”

“What happened? He didn’t do anything wrong, did he?” Remy asked, knowing full well what happened but still getting ready to commit murder if Virgil said yes.

“No no, nothing like that. He was a bit frustrated that I gave a fake name, but other than that everything seemed fine. I just don’t know what to do. He’s really attractive, but he’s also fae, and he works for you...”

Remy huffed out a laugh. “So, you think he’s attractive?”

“Really? That’s what you got? That I think he’s hot?”

“Yep!” Remy responded, popping the p.

Rolling his eyes, Virgil decided to take Patton advice. “Yes, but I’m not sure I can trust him. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I don’t think I could continue to go to Bitchin’ Brews if I can’t trust the barista.”

“Verge, I’ve talked to him. I already knew about the meeting. He was a bit irked having not gotten your name, but that’s just because you were the first person to not freely give it to him. He has already swore to never enchant anyone at my shop, and he told me that he will never use any magic on you unless you ask first. It is up to you, but I think he’s a good guy.”

Virgil sighed, relieved and grateful for the good report.

“Oh, and one other thing,” Remy said, smirk evident in his voice. “He finds you hot as well.”

Virgil groaned and Remy laughed. They continued talking until around six, when Virgil was promptly told to, “go get some damn food in you, ya twig!”

Virgil eventually went to bed, and had decided that he would give the cute barista a chance, but definitely make him work for the name.

----

Gen Taglist-

@dragonwithproblems

@five-falseh00ds-ph0nated

@thefingergunsgirl

@kawaiikat54

@sanders-sides-with-quinn

@007ardra

@yikesdodson

@nerdycupcake559

@softestvirgil

@teacupfulofstarshine

@impatentpending

@star-crossed-shipper

@ravenivy2079

@rainbowemonightmare

@ladyartemisia28

@moose-boi

@resident-trash-goblin

@parx-boiiz

@ninathepancake

@kuroyurishion

@funkyfreshfatherfigure

@pattoncake-and-eyeshadow 

@drewwwbydoobydoo

@sure-i-exist

@sophiexteresa

WYN? Tagist-

@tranquil-space-ninja

@antiredhuman

@enby-phoenix

@tired-yeetling

@gothfoxx

@grouptalekindnesssoul

@pricklyfish777

[anythingandeverything1d]

Pranks

“Maybe we can find a place to feel good, and we can treat people with kindness” You watched Harry perform on stage with a smile on your face. You were so overly proud of him you were tearing up. He had accomplished so much in the past few years, so much more than critics had thought he would ever accomplish on his own. And now? Now, he was climbing in charts, performing a tour, writing music, and even connecting with his old band mates to make a special reunion project for fans. All while never missing a doctor appointment, ultrasound, blood draw, or trip to the local Baby’s R Us for clothes and furniture. You were a little over 8 months pregnant with your and Harry’s first child, a baby boy. You were both an excited and nervous wreck, Harry however was constantly stressing over you and how traveling was affecting the baby and your labor plans, which is why you had master minded this whole plan. Harry looked backstage to you and winked and you smiled back, blowing a kiss to him. Mitch looked over at you and grinned while the band finished up the song. “Find a place to feel good” as the performance ended and the band moved off stage to get water while Harry talked to the crowd you moved to your place on the couch in Harry’s dressing room and laid down. 

“You sure about this?” Mitch asked walking in.

“Yeah what exactly is going to happen?” Clare added looking slightly concerned.

“I don't know...” you looked at the two of them and smiled. “But think of all the pranks he's pulled. It’ll be a good one.” They nodded and took their places. Clare and Sarah moved over to the couch, kneeling and grabbing your hands. Mitch ran on stage. you watched from the tv in the room, Mitch whisper in Harry’s ear, take the mic and point backstage. Harry looked panicked. His eyes wide, he rand his hands through his hair and sprinted backstage. You heard his feet before you saw him. You started breathing louder, just like you had practiced in labor classes. Harry ran in out of breath and locked eyes with you. 

“What’s wrong love?”

“Its the baby...I’m just having- Ahhh” you groaned in pain, gripping Sarah and Clare’s hands. “I’ve just been having a lot of contractions lately. They have only been like 5 or 10 minutes apart...” Harry knelt by your side and took your hand from Clare’s. 

“Maybe you should try walking?” You smiled and nodded looking at Adam with the cue. This was working perfectly, he was playing into the part exactly the way you had intended. Harry helped you to your feet and walked you towards the door where Adam was. He scooted out of the way, holding his cup of water to your back. As you and Harry walked through the door, Adam tilted the water down and spilled it perfectly across your butt and down you legs. 

“Haz...” you whined looking down. Harry followed your gaze and paled. 

“Tell me that's not pee...”

“I think my water just broke.”

“Are you sure its not pee...”

“I think I would know if I peed Harry.”

“I mean there was that one time where-”

“Its not pee Harry.” you interrupted looking at him.

“Okay. Okay.” He looked around and then screamed “Ahhh okay.” You weren't expecting that and you jumped along with everyone else in the room. “We are having a baby. I mean what do we do now? The hospital. We need to get you to the hospital. Where even is the hospital from here?”

You grabbed your stomach and sunk to the floor.. “Ahhh” Harry looked down, kneeling at your side again. “I don't think theres time.” You fake whined. Harry took a deep breath.

“No time okay okay relax everyone we can do this. Ive done this before.” You looked at him.

“You have?”

“Yeah I mean kind of...it was like a false alarm and I was like 16 or 17 but its not that hard I mean you just kind of-”

“Harryyyyy” you interrupted with another burst of pain. He pulled you up and walked you to the couch. 

“We need towels. And water. And uh the other baby stuff...” He looked at the band and assigned roles. “Clare get towels. Sarah water for everyone this could be messy. Mitch can you get my camera I want this all on video. And Adam I need you to move the furniture so (y/n) can lay down flat on the floor.” Everyone moved out and Harry held you hand, whispering words to the bump. “I can't wait to meet you little man.” You frowned...maybe this was going too far. Adam moved the table and Harry looked at you. “Adam you've done this before right? Whats next?”

“Uh..”

“I got the water!” Sarah yelled running back in the room with a bottle of water.

“Sarah that's not even enough water for me to drink.”

“We only have paper towels.” Clare answered walking into the room. “But I grabbed a whole roll.” Harry nodded.

“That will work. Okay love I need you to get on the floor and well I guess take your clothes off.” “You probably need to check how dilated she is Harry.” Adam said and you glared at him, this was not part of the plan.

“Okay we can do this. Babe the floor. Everyone places. My baby is on its way and we all have to look great.”

Harry helped you to the floor. “Harry.”

“Shh its okay love we got this.”

“Harry.”

“We’ll just wrap him in my suit jacket-”

“Harry!” you screamed. He looked at you surprised and you smiled, reaching out to touch his cheek. He grinned back and kissed you. “Harry....I’m not in labor.”

“What?”

You laughed and everyone joined in, circling him on the floor. “I’m not about to give birth, my water did not break..Haz it was just a joke.” He just stared at you and looked around.

“A joke?”

“Mhm..” Clare, Mitch, Adam, and Sarah nodded. “Sorry Harry, but (y/n) made us go along with it.”

Harry fell back onto the floor, arms spread out and feet spread out. “Oh my god.”

You laughed and rubbing his leg. “Sorry babe..”

He sat up and looked at you. “I’m going to get you back.” You smirked and nodded.

“I hope so.” 

“I guess we better finish the show huh?”

“I think you better.” He stood up, grabbing your hands and pulling you to your feet as well. 

“Little man your mum thinks she's a prankster.”

“Hey I am. I got you this time.” He kissed your nose.

“You did. But I’ll get you better next time.” The band walked out on stage and Harry grabbed your hand pulling you with him. 

“Har-”

“Everybody!” he said into the mic. “My girlfriend here just told me she was going into labor.” Everyone screamed. “I thought I was having a baby!” They screamed again. “BUT” he said looking at you. “IT WAS A PRANK!” Harry laughed hard and everyone in the audience was going wild. “I am having a baby just not today which means we better get back on track. This next song goes out to my beautiful lady here and our amazing little man inside her.” Harry put the mic in the stand and sat you on a chair Adam brought out. “I’d walk through fire for you, just let me adore you.” Harry and the crowd sang loud to the song and you smiled the whole time, rubbing your baby bump and feeling the little guy kick. Not a bad life to come into little man you thought singing along and enjoying the rest of the concert.

---

Got this request and I hope whoever wanted it enjoys! Message me with more requests and stay safe during quarantine everyone! xoxo

[sugaabooga]

A Familiar Hero | 1

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

(picture credits to artist!)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Spiderman!Jungkook, College!au

Rating: PG

Word Count: 3.0k

Warnings: some cursing, mentions of fire and blood

Synopsis: With the occasional poor excuse of a girl, your best friend never seems to have time for you anymore. But maybe it’s related to the ever-increasing number of crimes and the reappearing superhero wearing the tacky red and blue suit, flying around the tall skyscrapers of Seoul.

“Who can it be?”

“The hero of the arson case. Who is it?”

“The famous man in the suit! What is he?”

“Who the hell. . . is this. . . Spiderman?”

“What the hell, Jungkook,” you hiss, sending a tense, apologetic smile at the glaring old woman near the freezer. You turn around, lowering your voice after remembering you were in public. “I thought you said today was the day.”

“Well, it’s not,” your friend replies with a strained voice.

Your brows furrow at his tense voice and the odd amount of background noise mixed with the wooshes, indicating that wherever he was, was really windy. 

“Where are you right now?” you question.

Jungkook hesitates, trying to think of some kind of excuse. “I. . . I’m going to meet Nari!”

Your heart drops at his response and you feel a deep frown etching onto your face. “Nari?”

“Y-Yeah,” Jungkook winces. He shouldn’t have said that. Now you’ll think he was taking your friendship for granted.

You take a deep breath, heaving out a sigh that made Jungkook frown in regret and confirm his suspicions. 

“You’re seriously telling me we can’t hang out today because of Nari? After we haven’t hung out for a full month!? Today was finally the day you and I were both free and you’re flaking because of Nari!?”

You hear a loud clatter from behind, and send another nervous smile toward the old woman who was making it quite obvious that she was not willing to tolerate your disruptance.

“Y/N,” you hear Jungkook over the phone again, hearing the apology in his voice.

“It’s fine,” you say out of reflex then pause. “What the heck. No. It’s actually not fine. You’ve been canceling our hang-outs so much that it’s become a habit of saying ‘it’s fine’ whenever you’re about to apologize.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Jungkook sighs. You hear a thud followed by a groan in the speaker that sounded dangerously like Jungkook.

A sudden wave of worry rushes through you. “Jungkook?”

“Sorry, Y/N. Nari’s here. I’ll call you back later!” Jungkook says in a muffled voice. More thuds and a loud crash is heard.

Then the line goes dead.

You remove your phone from your ear and stare at it in confusion.

Whatever just happened, was not Nari.

//

Jeon Jungkook was in simple terms, your closest friend. The two of you weren’t the typical childhood kind of best friends but more like the two students that constantly got paired up for projects. After the first few projects completed together in English and science, the two of you clicked well and naturally became close. It was mainly due to a particular day where you came into the weekly library workday with swollen eyes and a bright red nose. After finishing the work session and packing up to go home, Jungkook had hesitantly asked if you were okay.

And you weren’t.

The night ended with you taking tearful bites of ice cream and Jungkook silently listening to where your day had gone wrong. Seemingly after that, you became more accustomed to being vulnerable around Jungkook, and the same went for him. The trust you had for him was the same amount of trust he had for you.

But now. . . you were wondering if he really did trust you.

At the beginning of this year, Jungkook was starting to bail out on a lot of your hangouts together. Sometimes, even bailing in the middle of hangouts after a shout of a lame excuse. Usually, the excuse was about Nari, his long-time crush since the first year of university whom he apparently got close to in the second-year.

The next day, he would come to class all beat up or with a small cut on his face. He would wince every time you nudged his arm or playfully pushed him, but you made sure to act like you didn’t notice. You promised yourself you were going to get to the bottom of this.

It had been going on for quite a while and you were itching to confront him about the whole situation.

Jungkook wasn’t the type to open up first. You were always the one to bring it up or cautiously ask him about it until he broke.

But for some reason - maybe it was because there was physical harm being done - you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him about it.

You were planning to ask Jungkook about it today until he canceled your hangout, again. 

Again, his excuse was Nari, but the fact that the two of you hadn’t hung out in nearly a month made you angrier than you normally would be.

But after your call with Jungkook over the phone, you wonder if he was lying to you and using her name as an excuse.

With these confusing thoughts all jumbled in your head, you decide to leave the grocery store and away from that glaring old woman who was increasingly growing unfond of you.

You sigh, gaze going to your feet as you start walking towards your small apartment that you barely manage to pay off each month as a broke college student. 

Only a few minutes into your walk, a sudden explosion at the end of the street causes your legs to give out with a yelp.

A series of cars blare their alarms and pieces of glass shards litter the asphalt ground a few meters away from you. With trembling hands, you type in the three numbers and quickly contact the police.

But in Seoul, the police force is failing.

Something in you knows that the police won’t be able to deal with whatever was happening in that store in an efficient way and unknowingly, you start hoping that the recent hero that blew up all over the news will show up.

You let out a deep breath and manage to stand up, keeping your eye on the blown up structure. That’s when you realize it wasn’t just any old store.

It was your childhood ice cream shop. It was the ice cream shop that you practically grew up visiting and continued to visit weekly with Jungkook. At least, until two months ago before he stopped visiting the shop with you.

You find yourself walking closer and closer to the fiery building, almost as if you were in awe at how the flames just overtook the entirety of the store.

Another smaller explosion makes you jolt in surprise and the sudden realization dawns on you.

It was only nine o’ clock.

The shop doesn’t close until ten.

The kind, old owner who knew you since you were a kid was most likely in there.

A large lump forms in your throat as you feel tears well up in your eyes. You let out a strangled cough in the seemingly false hope that the woman closed up the shop early or she got out in time. A tear slips out your eye that you quickly wipe away as soon as you see movement from the corner of the shop within the thick clouds of smoke.

A flash of red and blue jumps out the broken window, swinging a far distance from the shop with a woman held by his side.

You force your legs to move towards the direction where the figure swung to, a swell of hope rising in your chest. You let out a relieved sigh when you spot the familiar old woman next to a tall, built figure who was crouching at eye level and comforting her.

Anyone who lived in the city could tell who that was from a mile away.

Spiderman.

You continue to make your way over to the pair as the old woman gets increasingly hysterical and bursts into tears. A wave of sympathy washes over you as you break out into a run and approach the woman.

“Aunt Jangmi!” you yell, catching the attention of both the woman and the man in the suit.

“Oh, Y/N!” the woman sobs, waddling over to you. You rush over to her side and give her a comforting hug as the woman wails in shock.

“I-I was in the back - hgkhh - for only a -hgjk- minute!” she says in between sobs. You rub her back and nod.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” you say in a soft voice. “You aren’t hurt anywhere right?”

Jangmi takes a shaky breath and shakes her head. You notice smudges of ash on her face, a small wound on her ankle. “I am not. Thanks to this kind man.”

You and the woman both turn your heads only to see an empty space where the man was just standing.

The woman mumbles to herself in confusion once more as she looks around the area. Your gaze goes back to the shop that was now surrounded by firefighters and their hoses. Two police cars catch your attention and you gesture to the woman to head to the police.

“All you have to do is explain what happened,” you say. “They’ll take care of everything else, so don’t worry.”

She nods, her arms firmly around yours as you guide her to the police car. The kind policewoman offers to take her down to the station which Jangmi surprisingly agrees to. She rejects your own offer to go with her, almost scolding you to hurry and go home before it gets too late.

“Get a check-up at the hospital! Check out the wound on your ankle! You might’ve breathed in too much smoke too so go to-”

“Y/N!” the woman chuckles, a lot more relaxed than earlier. “Don’t worry! I may be old but I still have common sense.”

You let out a nervous, embarrassed giggle and wave to the woman driving off in the car.

Before you know it, the fire has gone out, and a policeman is offering to give you a ride home.

“Thank you, but I’m okay,” you smile, politely declining his offer. Then without another word, the officer nods and enters the nearly non-existent building along with a few other detectives to scope out the scene.

What a night.

You start walking down the street, contemplating whether or not to call Jungkook. You were quite shaken up by this whole event but you were still angry at him and you wanted him to know that. In the end, you decide not to call him as you stubbornly shove your phone back into your back pocket with a sniff.

He was probably busy anyway.

The night has fallen quiet, the only source of noise being the soft scuffles of your sneakers against the cement. But maybe. . . it’s a little too quiet.

“Hey.”

A scream belts out your throat at the sudden voice and random appearance of a man. . .  In a red and blue suit with weird, contracting eyes that blankly stared at you.

It was Spiderman?

“Shit!” he curses, awkwardly sticking out his arms like that would somehow relax you.

“What are you doing here!?” you yell as you wrap your arms around yourself in a defensive stance, legs faltering backward.

“That’s usually not what people say when they encounter me for the first time.”

You take another step back, staring bewilderedly at the said hero that the whole city was going crazy over. “Spiderman, right?”

Of course, he was Spiderman. Who else flies around in a tight red and blue suit with a large spider design on the chest?

“Sorry, stupid question,” you wince.

The man laughs, quite boyishly and. . . familiar.

“It’s cool!” he responds cheerfully. “Sorry I scared you.”

You shake your head and lower your arms, getting a little more comfortable due to his laid back attitude. “Sorry I screamed so loudly. Hopefully, your eardrums are intact. I wasn’t expecting. . . company.”

He hums and starts to walk down the street and before you know it, he’s walking you home.

“I saw you earlier at the shop,” he starts. Perhaps, trying to break the silence.

You turn your head to look at him but soon he jumps around, walking backward and facing you.

“Yeah. I uh. . . saw you too,” you nod, a small smile coming up on your face. “For like a split second. Then you were gone again.”

Spiderman nervously laughs, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck as if he were embarrassed.

“I had to go back just in case there were more people.”

Wow. He sure was born to be a hero.

“Thanks,” you say sheepishly, hands nervously fiddling with each other. Why did you feel so flustered?

“For what?” he asks, genuinely confused.

“For saving Aunt Jangmi,” you sigh, glancing up at the sky. “I’ve known her since. . . forever.”

“It’s. . . nothing really. It’s a given to help those in need,” he states.

Built, kind, a hero... and humble? Who was this boy?

You purse your lips, hands linking behind your back as you peer curiously at his mask.

“You know, you’re all over the news these days,” you inform him just to strike up a conversation as he sighs and directs his gaze to the ground.

“Yeah. I’ve noticed. It’s a bit. . . burdensome, to be completely honest.”

You frown at the disappearance of the playful tone that he replaced with a voice that sounded. . . tired.

“How come?” you ask. “Isn’t it thrilling to have a superpower and run around all the streets of Seoul? And getting recognition for it? That’s amazing!”

“That’s the thing,” he sighs.

Your eyes widen. Did he. . . not like the attention and amount of press he was getting? Maybe he wasn’t getting the production salary. Was that even a thing?

No. It’s not.

“All eyes are on me,” Spiderman says with a deep sigh. “Say there’s a crime that I can’t be at. The press will go nuts on where I was at that time. Say there is a crime that I know about and I have to go to. I’ll be disappointing the person that I was with at that time, ditching them to fight off criminals.”

You shake your head, weirdly being reminded at how Jungkook was always ditching you these days. “Hey.”

Spiderman looks up from the ground, his blank eyes on the mask looking into yours.

“If you’re ditching someone to fight some evil asses and saving lives, they’re the ones at fault for being disappointed.”

Spiderman seems to smile gratefully at your words, though the mask was covering his face. Eh. Let’s just say you imagined him to be smiling.

“Yeah. I’m sure they would understand, if only they knew that I was doing this at night. I’m a normal uni student during the day. Then suddenly a superhero with webs during the night,” he voices, turning around to look up at the night sky as you did earlier, only a few stars barely visible due to the pollution.

“Leading a double life I see,” you trail off, slowing down to a stop once his words correctly register in your head. “Wait.”

The boy stops in his tracks, whipping around to look at your shocked expression. He stammers out incoherent words, realizing that he said too much.

“Uh. . . I mean. . . I’m not in university? I’m . . . old.”

“Pfft,” you snort, bursting out in laughter. “Wow. Smooth cover-up.”

If you could see under the mask, you were positive that Spiderman just rolled his eyes at you. “No need for the sarcasm,” he says with fake offense. “Please don’t tell anyone, though.”

You immediately shake your head. “Of course not! I’m not that kind of person, don’t worry. But. . . you go to uni?”

He nods with a short hum in response.

“Can I. . . know how old you are?” you ask with hesitance, making the boy falter in his steps. “Sorry, sorry! Maybe that was too much? Don’t tell me. I was just wondering if we were the same age because I attend uni too.”

He laughs shaking his head at how nervous you seemed. “It’s all good. Don’t freak out. And. . . maybe I’ll tell you how old I am if we meet again soon.”

You breathe out through your nose, nodding in agreement. “Sounds. . . good?”

You take a few paces forward in silence until the man in front of your abruptly turns around, only a few inches away from your figure.

You inhale sharply, unknowingly holding your breath.

Spiderman bends down, meeting your eyes at exactly eye level.

“I’ll say one thing, though,” he says in a weirdly, attractive deeper tone.

You gulp, squeezing your fists around the hem of your jacket. “W-What?” you squeak out, immediately cringing at how weak your voice sounded.

“’M pretty sure I saw you before,” he asks in an amused voice.

Your brows knit together in confusion.

“The. . . ice cream shop?” you suggest making him let out a breathy laugh.

“Yeah, that too,” he says with a smile.

You were sure you had never interacted with Spiderman until today. Did he know you? Did you know him? Did the two of you meet each other at a street once? Or. . . perhaps?

You gasp in shock. “Do we. . . go to the same school?”

At your words, the man straightens back up to his normal height and you realize he nearly towered over you at his full height.

He shrugs, head slightly tilting to the side. “Maybe?”

You continue to stare at him blankly as he lets out a short laugh.

“Or it might’ve just been the store. Anyways, sweet dreams, lovely lady,” he grins, suddenly reaching over to gently brush your hair behind your shoulder, making a slight shiver run down your spine and your cheeks to flush red.

“Wait, wha-” you start, but before you can stop him, Spiderman is already shooting out a web and swinging away to the tops of the buildings, back towards the downtown area of Seoul.

How odd, you think to yourself then turn around to continue walking home when you realize. . . your apartment complex entrance was right in front of you.

How did Spiderman know where you lived?

[chrysalispen]

borealis, prompt #2

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28633701/chapters/70569033

=========

ii. forehead

The calm and the relative hush of the Temple Knights Hospitaliers' infirmary was, Nero Scaeva assumed, intended to grant a sense of peace to its inhabitants and their loved ones. It was a false sense of well-being in his opinion, and one that did nothing for his frayed nerves.

Of all of it, the interminable waiting was the worst. Ever since he was small the concept of patience had ever been a learned trait: easily enough applied to a project with a set deadline, but considerably strained when he had no foreknowledge of an outcome.

His tenth circling pace about the hall led him to peer out the great stone window only to see precisely what he had expected: a Coerthan blizzard that reminded him uncomfortably of home, gray upon gray upon white. Snow fell in a heavy blinding blanket from a sky like lead, and the chill that radiated from the window seemed to sink beneath his flesh to gnaw so deeply into his bones that the woolen Ironworks doublet and the heavy overcoat he wore proved useless against it. His body ached in a dull sort of way, still healing as he was from his injuries, but worry and adrenaline ran so high in him that he barely took notice.

He ran his hands through his hair for the- how many times, in the past four bells? He'd lost count - and glanced at the shut door. No one had quit the room since he had arrived. That Elezen he remembered from the Alliance council had been there, the absurdly pretty Ishgardian lord with blue-black hair like a rook's feathers - he'd been speaking to a stooped man in a white coat in tones solemn and hushed, as though they stood in a cathedral vestibule before an effigy of their stone goddess.

The discussion had been all too brief. In a matter of moments, the chirurgeon hurried back inside and shut the door behind him with a click that seemed thunderous, and it left his taller companion suddenly aware of the Garlean's presence. Those sky-blue eyes bored into his own: a keen stare sharp with instant recognition and distrust for a brace of seconds before it was mitigated with a sort of wary understanding.

It surprised and annoyed Nero, that moment of intense self-consciousness - he had felt so small, and no matter how fleeting the impression, no matter that his own towering sense of pride had ruthlessly crushed it before it could break his resolve, the sensation lingered far past that one instant.

There was little way of knowing how much of his relationship with the eikon-slayer was actually common knowledge, but Ser Aymeric Something-or-other seemed to have been quite well aware of it. And yet anything the man might have had to say to him he had kept to himself. He had been the first to look away, only to quit the corridor entirely, and Nero had been left to his own devices with no company but stone walls and a stone sky and a silent curtain of white.

It was maddening.

(It was torment.)

He placed his hands flat upon ancient granite and mortar and peered through the glass panes, grimacing at the numbing cold. The sensation transported him, for that one disorienting instant, a good twenty years into the past; for that fleeting moment he was his boyhood self once again, bored and impatient and waiting for the storm to subside. Frost rimed the panes like watery lace and his warm breath was a fog bank to shroud what little visibility remained, and through the falling snow, he could see the outline of the great bridge past the city gates. This, Nero knew, was the so-called Steps of Faith. Aurelia and her allies had defended this city from a host of dragons with - among other things - the barbaric siege weaponry that lined the massive rails and towers like iron sentinels.

And unlike the capitol, there was not a scrap of magitek to be found.

The sight broke his momentary immersion. Restlessness reclaimed him once more and on its heels, the urge to save himself gave rise to every pernicious impulse he had like some subtle poison. I do have the option still to simply leave, he thought. Fingertips scraped against stone, digging into the age-worn mortar. Let them sort matters out with the Empire themselves. Be free from this web of absurd obligations.

But a much smaller part of himself, something soft and fragile and still growing, wasn't having it.

You could, it said, but you won't. You already made a promise to Garlond. Hells, to her. No more running.

If he walked out that door simply because his resolve was tested then he might as well take a blade to his throat. That act would be the end of the life he had tenuously begun to build here. He would once more be the ruthless and self-serving creature whose aetherometer he had flung into the depths of the Syrcus trench two years ago, the one whom he had sworn to bury as the morning's first light speared across one of Silvertear's rare clear skies. A new day.

Nero knew he was not a nice man, nor was he a good one. But he was a man who always kept his word.

At the opposite end of the hallway, the sounds of a turning tumbler and creaking hinges cut into his self-imposed reverie. More out of deeply ingrained observational habit than aught else, Nero glanced over one shoulder from his position at the north-facing window to see the chirurgeon in his whites emerge from the infirmary. The man paid him no mind, but instead crossed the hall to the stairwell entrance and down without looking back; the receding scrape of footsteps followed the healer's descent.

On its heels silence reigned once more, settling back into its place like snow covering freshly made tracks. His eyes flickered towards the door which stood ever so slightly ajar; the seam of light betwixt frame and plank was brighter than it should have been. He waited one heartbeat, two, then three, and heard nothing. No shouts, no clatter of sollerets, not even overheard conversations echoing within the tunnel-like keep walls.

He would suffer no more internal debate whether or not he should remain where he was and continue his vigil. His feet were already moving.

Nero was absolutely certain that the click of the falling latch as the door swung shut at his back would alert someone to his presence, but he passed the threshold unmolested and entered the room. Within as without, it was almost ominously quiet, albeit this was a much smaller space. A fire crackled within a great stone hearth to ward off the chill from the windows, their glass panes likewise rendered all but opaque by ice and frost. Redolent within the room, reminding him of its grim purpose: the herbal reek of elixirs, and laced beneath like some offensive counterpoint was the astringent and sterile prickle of some sort of Eorzean antiseptic. His stomach turned in a slow and alarming drop but its contents remained in place.

A held breath escaped his lips with a soft chuff, and he turned his focus towards the sole bed in the room and its occupant.

Muted gold spilled in rivers over a starched and lumpy pillow, dark lashes at rest against high cheekbones in a heart-shaped face suffused with a deathly pallor. She wore a simple robe that put him uncomfortably in mind of his long convalescence in the Reach, and the field dressings that peeked from beneath the linen were stained with old blood. Her lips were slack and slightly parted, and she did not stir at his approach. Were it not for the slow rise and fall of her chest, small sips of air that were barely visible and too quiet to hear, he might have feared the worst.

There was a low-slung stool at her bedside. He drew it close and sat, taking a few moments to arrange his limbs. It was an awkward and graceless business; the chair had clearly been built with the compact and sturdy frame of a Midlander in mind, not a tall and lanky Garlean man. He had to brace his feet against the floor to seat himself without discomfort, and it brought back a distinct memory of their reconciliation that night after her sound defeat at Zenos' hands. That had been dire enough. This was somehow worse.

"We really must stop meeting like this, hero," he said aloud, quite nearly startling himself.

He peered at her form once more, rendered nearly ethereal by the soft light from the hearth. Her right hand lay folded gently over her waist, the left upon the mattress at her side. With as much care as if he were handling one of his ancient tomestones, Nero took her hand. His fingers were slow and stiff from the cold - another memory of Ilsabard he hadn't missed - and he realized he hadn't taken any particular notice of his chill until he had curled the aching digits into the softness of her palm. Perhaps it was his imagination running wild and little else, but he fancied a gentle and quiet warmth sinking into his frigid skin. It was a small balm upon his inner turmoil, but a balm all the same.

"I meant to tell you before all of this happened," he said, his voice calm and even and conversational, "but I've made arrangements with Miss Jaye to contract with the Ironworks on a more permanent basis. My first month's wages will go to pay the remainder of my debt to the House of Splendors. I had thought that it might please you."

No answer. He had hardly expected one, but he had also not anticipated how difficult it would be to speak to what was essentially an empty room, and the way she simply laid there, senseless and unmoving, made his skin crawl. The eikon-slayer's strength was a seeming constant, something those who knew her or even knew of her simply accepted in stride, puissance quite often taken for granted.

But it went well beyond mere martial prowess. She was such a reliable and stable presence, and a positive force in the lives of so many, that even Nero found it barely possible now to imagine a world without her. Finding oneself confronted with the reality that she was a woman as mortal as any other beneath it all was-

Sobering. And for reasons he preferred not to examine too closely, he found it more than a little terrifying, as well.

"That new wall of yours out in the Steppe will require regular maintenance, as I've no doubt you're aware. I'm to accompany Garlond and his team in the next fortnight to help oversee the process," he continued. "I'm told those Allagan ruins you found are nearby, and I should very much like to see them myself."

Wind wailed around stone, and ice smacked against glass, and he talked. Her hand lay limp and warm in his careful grasp, and he recounted one of his own adventures in the same way she'd done for him while he was bedridden in the Reach. He watched her composed and pallid face as he spoke and remembered all those unending days of recovery in which she or Garlond had come to visit him, to keep him entertained, to help him with the most basic of tasks. At the time it had been acutely embarrassing but their presence had been vital. Thinking about it from this new perspective, those acts held a meaning they simply hadn't had for him before.

When he heard footsteps ascending the keep steps, Nero knew his time was up. The knights would likely clear him out and give orders to bar him from the infirmary indefinitely if they caught him, and that would be highly inconvenient.

He leaned forward, smoothed her sweat-dampened fringe away from her brow, and pressed his lips briefly against it before righting himself again. For that brief moment before it was concealed once more by her hair, the curve of her third eye - illumined as it was by the hearth-light - seemed to shimmer like a pearl, iridescent and precious.

"I'll be back tomorrow," Nero murmured. He hated having to ask Garlond to intervene on his behalf simply to visit an indisposed friend, but the man was as well respected in Ishgard as she was and he was not too proud to make that small concession on her behalf. "And I will bring some of your personal effects along with me. That robe they've put you in is absolutely hideous and I imagine it's about as comfortable as that slab of rock they call a bed."

What if she doesn't awaken? If she remains comatose, like the others?

He cleared his throat, trying to clear the hot and stifling tightness that lingered at the thought. That creeping feeling of impotence left him feeling uneasy and frustrated. All the engineering skills he could bring to bear, all the intellect he so greatly prized, were useless here, as much as it pained him to acknowledge the fact. But there was little else to be done. He had to take it on some faith that whatever it was that had happened to her, she would prevail against it as she prevailed against most things.

For a man who considered himself intensely rational, who believed only in those things he could provably see and hear, that felt like waiting on a miracle. But it was pointless to worry over matters beyond his control. She would come back to them in due time, he was certain. And while she had need of it, Nero would offer what assistance was within his means to give, as ever.

The small hand that he clasped, he folded over the other yet draped over her slim waist. She lay silent and still, features perfectly preserved: the picture of a saint in gentle repose. It was the sight he took with him upon his departure. And as the door clicked shut at his back, the Warrior of Light's unnatural slumber continued apace.

[puddygeeks]

Wᴇ Cᴏᴍᴇ Rᴜɴɴɪɴɢ - Tʜᴇ 100 Bᴇʟʟᴀᴍʏ x OC - Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 31: Tʜᴇ Eɴᴅ Oғ Tʜᴇ Wᴏʀʟᴅ As Wᴇ Kɴᴏᴡ Iᴛ

Masterlist

Episode: We Are Grounders - Part 2

Rating: Mature

Summary: During her time in the Skybox, Indigo formed a precious friendship with fellow outcast Octavia Blake, the girl under the floor. At first they thought their departure from the oppression of the Ark was a blessing, but quickly came to rely on Indigo's keen survival instincts. The 100 struggle to meet the challenges of Earth whilst Bellamy strives to lead the wavering teenagers and his irresponsible attitude fuels constant conflict with Indigo. Their only shared interest is in protecting Octavia and Indigo beings to suspect that there is a deeper cause to Bellamy's seemingly irrational choices. As the consequences of his actions mount up around him, he finally begins to confide in her and she discovers more than she ever bargained for. 

Fandom: CW’s The 100

Pairing: OC x Bellamy Blake

LONG TERM ONGOING PROJECT :)

My writing is entirely fuelled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee

Warnings: Mature content. Non-consent, language, sex, self harm, suicide, anxiety, helplessness, torture, captivity/confinement, alcohol/drug use.

Chapter Thirty-One

By the time I fell out of the tunnel into camp I was panting and could hear the overpowering roar of the attacking forces. I dragged myself to my feet and climbed up onto the wall to assess the situation as quickly as I could. I found Miller aiming over the side with a wavering confidence and he stooped down to snatch a discarded gun that was beside him. I recalled that he was meant to be on the last checkpoint with Bellamy and my stomach flipped nervously.

 “Where’s Bellamy?” I questioned frantically as he threw the gun at me and I somehow managed to catch it despite my distress.

“I don’t know! The last time I saw him, he was trying to get back to camp carrying Octavia. We got separated.” He called to me in a shirty manner as he scanned the furious crowd that surged toward the gates like a tidal wave.

“Carrying Octavia?!” I repeated in alarm and he glanced over with annoyance. “I have to get to them!” I cried as I stood frozen to the spot, torn between assisting in the effort here or trying to fight my way toward the checkpoint.

“You can’t! We need you here!” Miller yelled as he addressed me in desperation. “Look, if you want to see them again you need to stick to the plan, you know that he will.” He reasoned and for the first time since landing I felt as if we saw each other on equal ground.

“Alright, let’s do this.” I gulped, setting my gun on the wall as I aimed toward our mounting enemies. The grounders seemed to pour out from every direction and I couldn’t believe the numbers that we were now facing. This was worse than we ever could have imagined and we were comically under prepared for fighting of this scale. I sensed the gunners around me peeking at each other in terror as the grounders collided with our walls.

“There are too many! Everybody to the dropship, now!” Miller instructed as the determination finally crumbled from his face, alongside any new found respect that I’d gained for him.

“No! We need more time!” Clarke’s voice was stern from behind us and I felt my stomach twist at her words. I understood from the tone of her voice that things weren’t going well and without Bellamy here to keep the camp inspired, it wasn’t long until the plan dissolved. “Gunners stay at your posts, the rest of you inside. Come on quick, move!” Clarke commanded and everyone slowly moved back into place, but they still held themselves in a way that suggested they were ready to run for their lives. I sighed deeply with a knot building in my gut as I considered that the plan Bellamy had laid out was the only thing I could rely on to return him to me. As I studied the nervous faces of those around me, I knew that I could no longer hide in the shadows whilst others took the burden of leadership; Bellamy needed my strength. 

“Alright gunners! You all heard Clarke, it’s down to us now! I don’t know about you, but I don’t plan to lay down as an easy kill for some grounder.” I started with a false confidence that I hoped wasn’t obvious. I’d seen every speech Bellamy had made to this camp and I hoped I knew him well enough to emulate his charisma. “This is our camp, our home and the people you see on these walls are your family now. Make every single bullet count, shoot calm and take down as many as you can. It’s time to show these sons of bitches the exit!” I declared and was exhilarated by the renewed war cries from those around me. We all returned to picking off the grounders who closed in on the last of our defences and I was proud of the focus that the gunners maintained, even in the face of the overwhelming odds.

We were interrupted by a far off explosion and I turned my attention to the sky to witness a bright light shooting over the camp. It seemed that everyone stopped to watch, including our attackers, as the light split into numerous pieces that burned down toward us. I had long lost any hope of ever receiving help from the sky but as the pieces grew closer, I realised that I was watching the Ark itself falling to us. 

“Take down the gate!” A sharp command from outside drew us back into the moment as the grounders began attacking again. Before we could retaliate, we were distracted by the sounds of tribal calls and paused in a confused anticipation. I noticed that the grounders seemed equally confused by the sounds and I hoped that whatever was coming might help to turn the tide of this fight. “Reapers!” The same voice cried out again and I kept my gun trained on the distance as I waited for the uncertain threat. I was stunned when Finn and Lincoln fell into my scope, sprinting toward the grounder army before suddenly diverting and disappearing into the trees.

Immediately behind them was another large group which almost resembled the force that we were already facing and I couldn’t comprehend what insane plan Finn had calculated this time. In the moment that the new group noticed the grounders they stopped in their tracks, glaring tensely at each other in a silent standoff. I squinted over to the other gunners, who seemed every bit as puzzled as I felt and no one moved a muscle in fear of reminding them that we were there. Without warning the two groups clashed, forming their own fray and seeming to have completely forgotten about us altogether. I analysed that the grounders seemed to be wiping out the new group with little resistance and felt in my gut that this strange turn of events unfortunately wouldn’t be more than a brief reprieve for us.  

“Reload! Get ready for the next wave, they’ll be back on us in no time!” I ordered the surrounding gunners in an attempt to prepare them, rallying them from their shock. “Grab a weapon, we’re almost out of bullets. We need to be ready if they break through!” I commanded as I kept a watch on the situation below out of the corner of my eye.

People scattered across camp frantically arming themselves with whatever they could find and I subconsciously reached for my dagger to reassure myself that it was still there. In barely a few minutes the grounders had brutally slaughtered their new enemies and returned to charging at the gates. I observed with a dread in my chest as several people on the wall were killed by arrows and I jumped into action. I fired at the archers rapidly, abandoning the careful shooting that I’d been focused on until now as I felt that we were losing control. I heard the clanging of hooks as several landed on the top of the wall and grounders began to climb up to the platforms that we were stationed on. I tried to slow them down but my gun jammed and I knew that I was finally out of ammunition. 

“That’s it, fall back!” I gasped before turning to address all of the gunners determinedly. “Everybody fall back! It’s time to take it hand to hand!” I announced as I dropped the gun and leapt from the platform to gain some distance from the bloodthirsty forces that dragged themselves over the top of the wall.

I ran in a wild panic toward the centre of the camp, searching for any weapon larger than my dagger that I could use to defend myself. As I stumbled forward without focus, I knocked into a couple of people carrying grenades and caused them to drop several onto the ground at our feet. At that moment, the gate slammed open with an earth shattering crash and I instinctively snatched one of the grenades from the ground, lobbing it toward the gate in blind faith. It exploded in the perfect location to wipe out several of the grounders that rushed through, but it didn’t stop the leader who charged forward cutting down anyone in his way. I turned to the dropship and spotted Clarke and Finn crouched behind a crate. I sprinted over to meet them and as I dropped to their side to ask what was happening with the ship, Finn pointed manically ahead. 

“There he is!” He yelled in a hopeful voice.

I turned to face the direction that he was pointing and clocked Bellamy crouched in the exit of a tunnel, behind the grounder who was carving a path through camp. My heart leapt into my throat and my thoughts raced at a million miles an hour as I realised in a crushing feeling of apprehension that Octavia wasn’t with him. 

“He’s never gonna make it! Bellamy run!” Clarke cried out to him. 

I searched around in a newly frantic haze for a weapon that would allow me to fight at arm's length. If I simply used my dagger there was a risk that the leader would skewer me before I could even get close enough to help. As I did this, Bellamy started to run toward us and the leader glanced his way to notice him creeping past. Bellamy held the gun up in front of him but it visibly locked as he attempted to fire and the leader took this opportunity to swipe the large sword he carried at him. For a split second I couldn’t breathe as the sword barely missed his waist and he dodged it by only a few centimetres. The leader punched Bellamy in the face, knocking him backwards heavily with the force and grabbed him to repeatedly slug him in the gut. 

“He’s killing him.” Clarke breathed in a small terrified voice, causing my heartbeat to pound in my ears.

“No.” I hissed determinedly as I raised to my feet and pulled the pistol from my belt. I attempted to aim at the large leader that threw Bellamy around like a rag doll, but his movements were so rapid that I couldn’t get him in my sight without risking hitting Bellamy instead. My hands shook wildly as I struggled to maintain my grip on the gun and tears filled my eyes as I willed myself to get it right. I fired in blind faith and the bullet landed directly in the shoulder of the leader.

“Give me that!” Finn jumped up beside me and snatched a gun from a passing camp member as they ran to the dropship. He moved without hesitation, which was shocking for someone who was such a passionate pacifist and had been against the use of guns since day one. He fired at the leader in perfect timing to prevent him from slashing Bellamy with his blade. Bellamy fell flat on his back on the ground and Finn charged at the leader, tackling him to the dirt in a powerful motion.

“No, Finn, no!” Clarke screamed and I moved to attack after him but she caught my wrist to pause me on the spot. “Don’t!” She begged in desperation as she clung on to me but I threw her off with a furious yell. Once I was free of her grip I returned my attention to the fight and pulled my dagger out in preparation for an attack that I knew could cost me my life. When I met Bellamy’s eyes I knew that he had clocked me striding towards him and he regarded me with an expression of horror. 

“Indie, don’t! Get to the ship!” He pleaded in a despairing tone before he was viciously tackled to the ground again by the leader. I managed one last step toward him before I was yanked backwards by strong arms that wrapped firmly around my waist. I struggled against the momentum with every ounce of strength in my body. 

“No! Bellamy!” I howled in anguish as I scrambled with everything I had to reach him. I clawed into the ground and dug my heels in, using every part of my body to fight the movement. I caught a glimpse of Miller’s face in my peripheral vision as he tugged on my waist in a bid to remove me. In the next moment I was suddenly lifted from my feet and thrown over the shoulder of another strong gunner. The roughness and shock of the action caused me to drop my dagger to the ground as my arms dangled over his back. 

“No! Get off me! No, stop!” I screamed as I kicked manically at them whilst they carried me toward the ship. I witnessed Bellamy overturn the leader and start struggling to battle them with Finn backing him up as the tears flowed down my face. I was struck with the horrifying clarity that Miller was encouraging Clarke to follow us inside and I acknowledged that they were securing what remained of the camp leaders so that they could seal us in the safety of the dropship. 

“Stop, don’t do this!” I pleaded in a strained voice as we crossed the threshold into the ship. I fought hard enough to cause my kidnapper to drop me back to my feet but he immediately blocked me from leaving and Miller rushed over to assist him as they contained me between them. I was too lost in the storm of my panic to coordinate a way out, instead screaming wildly and thrashing against them.

“Indigo, just stop! We’re doing what he asked, you have to save yourself!” Miller reasoned as he fought against me and he behaved as if he were struggling with a caged animal. Clarke caught my eyes as she considered me with tear filled eyes and I observed her reaching toward the door mechanism with a fresh wave of desperation. 

“Clarke don’t! Please! You can’t do this, Bellamy and Octavia are still out there!” I pleaded and my panic was so intense that my voice didn’t even sound like my own. “Finn is out there, don’t do this!” I reasoned in the hope that I could manipulate her own worry but she continued to turn the handle without a single word in response. I screeched maniacally at her as I threw all of my weight at my captors.

The moment that the door slammed shut the sheets parted to reveal the female grounder that I’d seen speaking to Clarke at the bridge. She stepped into the space, drawing her swords and smirked at the nervous group that surrounded her. 

“Jasper, now! Fire the engines!” Clarke ordered over her shoulder and I turned to view him in outrage. I had no idea that this was the plan and I knew immediately that if they did this, every person we’d left out there would die.

“Jasper don’t, please! You’ll be killing them!” I begged although I was hardly able to get the words out through my tears and jagged breaths. I knew in my gut that there were other members of camp out there too, fighting with everything they had to drag their injured bodies back to the safety of the ship and I couldn’t face the idea of burning them alive alongside the grounders.

“I...I can’t do it.” He breathed as he stared back at me with watery eyes. I was about to breathe a sigh of relief when Harper leaned past him and slammed the trigger. I held my breath for a heart stopping moment, but no sound came. I could still hear the grounder army pounding on the door and prayed that Bellamy would somehow burst into the space to take control of the spiralling situation. Harper frantically shook the control in an effort to make it work, whilst Clarke turned to face the grounder who still stood analysing us.

“Anya, you can’t win.” She appealed and in the tense moment of silence that followed, the men that had trapped me earlier forgot to keep their grip on me. Anya swung forward at the crowd and I leapt out from between the boys without thinking. Anger controlled me like a puppet and I threw myself at Anya’s waist, slamming her into the floor with an unstoppable fury. 

“This is all your fucking fault!” I growled as I wrapped my hands around her throat. I heard her begin to choke under my crushing force but she struggled against my grip and every time she thrashed to escape, I slammed her head into the floor maliciously. I was dragged off her by Clarke, who jumped between us to shield her. 

“Stop, we are not grounders!” She cried and I snarled at her like an animal, causing her to jump in surprise. 

Before I could do anything else, the ship began to shake wildly throwing us all off balance and I recognised the deafening sounds of the thrusters firing. I dropped to my knees as a deep, guttural sob escaped my lips. Everyone around me fell or struggled to hang on as the ship raised from the ground, but I couldn’t move at all. I could hardly breathe between the sobs that wracked my chest and felt my lungs burning with the strain. On the inside it seemed as if I could actually feel my heart breaking and my head throbbed viciously. There were no thoughts present there, no other feelings in my body than the overwhelming loss of the two most important people in my life. 

I felt two skinny arms pull me in as Jasper wrapped me up in a jacket and leaned me into him, but his embrace didn’t provide me with the same sense of safety that I felt with Bellamy. I wasn’t sure if I could really feel anything anymore, as my mind imploded in on itself. I lost track of how long I stayed there, but I knew that I cried until my eyes strung and my chest ached. I started to shake all over and Jasper rubbed my arms in an attempt to warm me up. I couldn’t even see my surroundings and my hearing had cut off immediately following the sound of the blast. 

Now that I’d finally run out of tears, I felt completely numb. I was lost in an empty chamber of pain and felt as if the entire world had crumbled around me. I felt myself being lifted and moved but I lacked any energy to resist the action. I was easily carried to a spot where I felt that my heavy body was leaned against a wall. I could still feel Jasper beside me, gripping me to him and became vaguely aware of the weight of his head on my shoulder. I stayed perfectly still, unable to compose a single thought and time seemed an alien concept in the state that I was in.

“We don’t know that they’re dead yet. Bellamy and Octavia are survivors, if anyone could find a way, it’s them. We just have to wait until morning. Don’t give up.” Jasper’s gentle words finally managed to reach me, even in the void of my mind.

“It’s no good Jasper, she’s catatonic.” Clarke’s sympathetic voice followed his and I tried to force myself out of the heaviness that trapped me inside of my own mind. “I don’t know that there’s much we can do, just keep her comfortable until she becomes lucid. I’m sorry.”

I felt myself shivering again but I suspected it was the effects of shock rather than cold. Regardless, Jasper adjusted the jacket that he had placed around me, ensuring that it was fully covering me as he made his best effort to keep me comfortable. 

“It’s Bellamy’s, he took it off earlier to fix up some stuff. You can keep it warm for him until morning. I’m sure he’ll want it back.” He spoke in a hopeful tone and his words drew up a memory of the last moments that I’d seen Bellamy. Jasper was right, he wasn’t wearing his usual jacket, I hadn’t noticed it at the time.

Slowly, piece by piece, the world began to return to me. The sound seeped through first; the fearful voices around me, sniffing as people cried, the heavy breathing of others who were sleeping. Things grew darker as the room came into view, cramped with so many people huddled together in the small space. It was dark inside with only a few small torches to light the ship and I scanned the variety of emotions on the faces of the survivors who waited nervously for the morning. As soon as I started to move Jasper gripped me tighter, assessing me with wide eyes. 

“Indigo!” He breathed and I noticed that his voice was soaked in relief. “I’m so glad you’re back.” He smiled thankfully as his eyes welled up with tears. “It’s been a long night without you.” He stated and I couldn’t manage any kind of facial expression in return. 

“How long until…” I struggled to speak with my sore throat and my words came out in a raspy whisper. I pointed weakly toward the door and then returned my gaze to him for an answer.

“Not long now, we’ve just gotta keep the faith alive until then.” He smiled hopefully and I stared back at him in amazement. I couldn’t even begin to comprehend how he remained so hopeful when he’d witnessed the same bleak chain of events that I had, when he knew the force of the ship better than I did, when he understood the odds. I struggled not to allow my mind to run away with me, picturing what would have happened to those outside when the engines fired and Jasper simply sat squeezing my hand, waiting for a happy ending that he had unshakable confidence in.

The minutes ticked by painfully slowly as we sat in a tense silence. Jasper remained close at my side, keeping his grip on me soothingly. I glanced down at the jacket, running my fingers over the details; the small torn looking patch on the front, the unnecessary extra zip on the sleeve, the shoulder pads I’d placed my hand on the last time I touched him, when I almost kissed him. I pushed the memory forcefully to the back of my mind before it could replay in agonising detail, unable to consider that it might be the last chance that I had.

After what felt like an entire lifetime had passed in the despair of the ship, Clarke approached the door mechanism and finally opened it to face the world. The door slowly tilted down and the group of survivors gathered around it, waiting to see what awaited us on the other side. Jasper jumped to his feet and turned to carefully help me to a standing position. I didn’t realise until then that my body had become so weak, but the strain of the night had left me unstable and sore.

Jasper assisted me outside and once we reached the ramp he allowed me to lead us as he supported my weight. My eyes took a moment to adjust to the daylight, but when they did I could hardly comprehend the destruction that I was witnessing. The earth was scorched black and strewn everywhere were the charred, skeletal remains of a mixture of both forces. I surveyed them with an open mouth, repelled by the results of our actions before slowly turning to face the direction that I knew Bellamy had been last. I wandered slowly as I guided Jasper, tripping as I tried to step over the bodies that were scattered as densely as a carpet. 

I battled with every shred of strength that I could muster to hang on to the hope that Jasper had shared with me. I couldn’t see far into the distance as the group had exited before me and were spreading across camp, so I just focused on heading toward Bellamy, praying that I would see some kind of sign that he had escaped. As we neared the edge of camp, I knew that we couldn’t be far now and my eyes searched for something to help me navigate. Two people in front of us leaned to the side and my stomach lurched as I realised that I was barely a step from where Bellamy and Finn had been fighting. I turned my face to the ground in horror and laid in that spot were two charred skeletons, frozen in motion as they faced each other.

The earth seemed to raise up to meet me as my knees slammed into it and the sound that escaped me hardly even sounded human. The severity of the odds of survival crashed on me in one suffocating impact and any fragile concept of hope shattered into a million pieces. In my gut I knew that there was no time, no chance for them to have escaped their pursuer and make it to somewhere fortified enough to have survived the level of annihilation that we had unleashed. I could feel the hot tears on my cheeks, despite having felt unable to cry any more earlier and my chest burned as I wailed agonisingly into the air. I felt Jasper’s comforting grip on my shoulders and he attempted to move me away but I aggressively shook him off. I leaned forward, taking my head in my hands as I felt my body shaking violently. I sat back up and as my eyes landed on them again, my vision rapidly blurred. I questioned whether the pain had finally pushed me over the brink to insanity and gasped out for air as everything faded to black.

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Terrors

Hey, you know what I’m not going to do for @drawlight‘s advent challenge? I’m definitely not going to write a 3,000 word fic about PTSD and night terrors!

05 - Fire (2,992 words)

The first few days after the world didn’t end, Crowley was almost a new being.

The first few days, he was relaxed, casual, unselfconscious.

The first few days – nearly a week! – Crowley took his glasses off whenever they were alone. He met Aziraphale’s eyes, he laughed, he smiled, and oh, that smile. It was the real one, the one Aziraphale had seen too rarely since Eden. Wide, toothy, a little nervous, genuine.

The first few days after the world didn’t end, Crowley seemed happy.

It was hard to notice, after that, when things changed. After all, if Crowley acted a bit more as he had for six thousand years, well, that didn’t ring any alarm bells. They were still trying to decide what level of openness they were comfortable with. Bound to be some false starts.

At the end of September – over a month after the world didn’t end – Aziraphale realized Crowley was back to wearing his glasses all the time.

By the end of October, he couldn’t remember when he’d last heard Crowley laugh, even the sarcastic chuckle the demon had been fond of.

By mid-November, the smile was gone.

By the start of December, Crowley was as tense as ever, perhaps more so, even as he sprawled across the bookshop sofa as if he’d never even heard of bones.

“Crowley, my dear, are you quite alright?” Aziraphale finally asked, looking up from the book he’d been reading.

“Nh,” Crowley helpfully responded, running his finger along the screen of his phone. “’M fine, really. Just gotta finish this level. Flash games’re one of my best inventions.” He gave a tight-lipped smile that wouldn’t have passed muster even in those August days when they’d been sure everything was about to fall apart.

“Is this one of your real inventions, or one of the ones you took credit for because you knew it would confuse Hell?”

“Don’t actually remember.” His finger zigzagged. “No the green one, the green – arg.” He tossed the phone aside. “That was my last life.”

“Sounds serious.”

“Eh. I’ll have more in about an hour.” He flopped back again, arms and legs finding a new, even more unlikely sprawl. It was almost convincing, except for the way his right foot tapped, hard enough to shake his whole leg. Except for the way his head jerked here and there, searching, searching…for what?

Aziraphale closed his book and placed it on the arm of his chair. “I suppose that means you have some time to talk.”

“Talk? Sure. I’ll talk.” Crowley suddenly sat upright. There didn’t seem to be any intermediate stage; one moment, a heap of limbs and black fabric, the next a narrow demon sitting on the edge of his seat. Aziraphale didn’t miss the way he shook his head, or the way his leg continued to bounce. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Well, I would very much like to talk about whatever has you so on edge. Although I know you’ll tell me to stop worrying.”

“Really, Angel, ’s nothing.”

Aziraphale watched for another moment, then stood up, coming over to sit next to Crowley. “It clearly isn’t ‘nothing,’ because – ” he sighed as Crowley jumped to his feet and stalked across the room.

“Really, I’m fine. I just need, I don’t know, coffee. Tea. Something.”

That sounded like the last thing he needed. “I can get you some chamomile…”

“No! No, I…” Folded his arms. Unfolded them. Paced a little more. “I can’t sleep.”

“Ah,” said Aziraphale, with as much sympathy as someone who hadn’t slept since before the invention of the horse collar could muster. “Well, I understand chamomile helps.”

“No I mean…I can’t sleep. Don’t want to. Need to stay awake.”

“Alright. I still don’t see the problem.”

“’S like…” Crowley sat down on the sofa again, hands folded in his lap, thumbs bouncing off each other. “If you suddenly decided to stop eating. Have you tried? To go without?”

“Of course. Why, just a little over a decade ago, I went an entire week without eating. I was very proud of my restraint.”

“This wouldn’t be the same week you discovered Harry Potter and didn’t move from your chair until you’d read it all, would it?” The ghost of a real smile hovered on his face.

“It doesn’t matter what my inspiration was!”

“No, but. It was only a week. Try a month. Try three months. It’s…I’ve trained my mind to want sleep. It’s not easy to quit.”

“Why quit, then? Or, perhaps ease yourself off it, instead of all at once?”

Crowley shook his head. The leg was bouncing again. “I. I don’t want to dream anymore. And I can’t figure out how to stop it. So I can’t sleep at all.”

Aziraphale had never dreamed, not that he could remember, though he’d only ever slept a handful of times. However, he’d once read a book on dreaming. Several books, actually, but the ones involving Freudian theory were unlikely to be useful in this situation.

“I believe it helps to relax first. Perhaps the amount of stress you’re feeling is causing you to dream?”

“’M not…what makes you think I’m stressed?”

Aziraphale just raised his eyebrows. Crowley scoffed and looked down at his hands. “Fine. I’m stressed because I don’t want to dream, my stress causes dreams, dreams cause stress – how do I make it all stop?” He was all but pleading.

Instead of answering, Aziraphale placed one of the worn pillows that decorated the sofa onto his lap.

“You.” He sat so still, but Aziraphale was sure his eyes were darting between the pillow, the angel’s face, back and forth. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why not? I don’t have anywhere else to be. Come now, no reason to be shy.”

Slowly, so slowly, Crowley lay his head on the pillow, face turned away from Aziraphale.

“Are you going to take those glasses off?”

“Nh.”

“I can’t imagine they’re comfortable.”

“Fine. Just. Don’t look.” Those words hurt more than he could say – since when had Crowley hidden his eyes from Aziraphale? But he waited as they were removed, folded, put away.

Crowley didn’t settle easily. His shoulders were still tense where they pressed into Aziraphale’s thigh, and he could see the stiffness in the Crowley’s back.

Not sure what to do – but wanting to do something – Aziraphale brushed his fingers through Crowley’s hair.

The reaction was instantaneous.

“NGK!” Crowley’s hand shot up, knocking Aziraphale’s fingers aside, covering his head as if he had a wound. He started to twist and look back, but apparently remembered he was hiding his eyes and turned stubbornly away again. “What…what are you doing?”

“I…I just thought…” Aziraphale took a deep breath, and carefully placed his hand on the back of the sofa, where it was in no danger of touching Crowley. “Rhythmic tactile sensations are very relaxing. I thought it might help.” When Crowley didn’t move, he added, “I won’t do it again if you don’t want me to.”

The demon’s hand lifted, slowly, slowly, and settled on the couch in front of him. “I guess it’s alright. Just to try.”

Aziraphale lowered his fingers and gently ran them through the bright red fire of Crowley’s hair. It was stiff with whatever gel he used, but the strands fell apart under a bit of pressure. Under the shell of product, it was soft. Warm. He ran his fingers through again, again, mesmerized by the feel of it.

And slowly, the shoulders relaxed, the back softened, the breath slowed. After perhaps twenty minutes, Crowley was asleep.

For the first hour, Aziraphale congratulated himself on so easily finding a solution. He wished he’d remembered to bring his book over, but he enjoyed the chance to study Crowley’s face, now untroubled in sleep, and to explore the thick red hair that was spilling across his lap. He even chuckled a little, thinking how Crowley would react when he woke up, finally rested and relaxed but his hair a disaster.

It was during the second hour that things started going wrong.

The tension came back into Crowley’s shoulders, one twitch at a time. His fingers jerked and spasmed against the sofa cushion, weakly grasping. Crowley said something, mumbled, under his breath, but it sounded pained. Scared. Panicked.

With growing alarm, Aziraphale rested a hand on Crowley’s shoulder. Should he try waking him? He wasn’t certain, but this didn’t seem right. Perhaps the demon had slept long enough. “Crowley? Are you alright?” No reaction, except that the mumbling got more frantic. “Crowley, I rather think – ”

Without warning, Crowley rolled onto his back, kicking, thrashing with his arms. “Aziraphale!” he shouted, louder than the angel would have expected. “Where the Heaven are you? Aziraphale!”

“I’m right here!” He shook Crowley’s shoulders more urgently, but the now the demon seemed to be fighting, arms going in every direction as he shouted again and again, with more urgency.

“Aziraphale! AZIRAPHALE!”

“Crowley! I’m here! CROWLEY!”

Shouting didn’t make any difference. For ten minutes, the demon thrashed and called and sobbed, then just as abruptly fell silent again. Soon after that, he was sound asleep, as if nothing had ever happened.

The angel, meanwhile, was completely shaken. He’d never heard fear like that in Crowley’s voice, not in six thousand years. And he hadn’t been able to do a thing to help. His fumbling fingers found their way back into Crowley’s hair, but it seemed too little a thing now.

The second round came an hour later.

Aziraphale thought he was prepared this time. He made soothing noises as the tension started to form in Crowley’s back, then switched to a gentle mantra of I’m here, I’m here.

It was no use – the thrashing, the shouting came back, even more intense than before. And something else.

Aziraphale had once heard that demons could project their dreams on the world around them, but Crowley had scoffed the idea, grumbling that he’d never seen anything when he’d woken up. The reason, Aziraphale was about to discover, was that it took a strong dream, and the images lasted only as long as the dream did.

As Crowley thrashed in his lap, sobbing his name, he’s gone he’s gone he’s gone the first flames began to appear around the couch.

Aziraphale slapped at them, alarmed, but it was only light – the illusion of fire, without heat.

But they spread.

Across the floor, up the shelves, until the entire room was filled with dancing red flames, flickering, flaring, and Crowley screamed with such despair AZIRAPHALE!

But when, fifteen minutes later, Crowley settled down again – the flames dimmed and vanished, leaving nothing but a memory, and a tremor that Aziraphale couldn’t quash.

An hour later came the worst yet.

There was no warning this time. One moment Crowley was lying peacefully, the next, flames were shooting across the ceiling. A beam crashed down, a window exploded from the heat and pressure.

It seemed impossibly real; Aziraphale could no longer see the peaceful stillness of the shop behind the illusion, just the unrelenting horror of Crowley’s night terror. He was choking on smoke, he could feel the heat of the flames, worried they might actually ignite his books, and still, still Crowley thrashed in his lap, calling, calling and then –

He sat upright, eyes wide, pure gold without a hint of white, full of fear and pain beyond anything the angel had ever witnessed as he screamed –

“SOMEBODY KILLED MY BEST FRIEND!”

“Crowley!” He grabbed the demon’s face in both his hands, turning it towards him. “Crowley, dear, I’m right here, I’m right here.”

But those serpent eyes didn’t see anything. “Bastards! All of you!” The thrashing hands grabbed at Aziraphale’s coat, his shirt, his hair. They didn’t hurt – there wasn’t much strength behind them – but they were unrelenting.

“Crowley, please!”

And then a wordless, broken scream that just went on and on as the shop burned around them.

After twenty minutes, Crowley collapsed back across the angel’s legs. Once again, the fire was gone as if it never existed, but Aziraphale couldn’t stop the tears running down his face, the sobs wrenching his own shoulders.

An hour passed.

Then another.

Every time the demon moved, Aziraphale held his breath, terrified for what would come next.

When it started again – faster breathing, tossing and turning – Aziraphale couldn’t do anything but cry, hand pressed to his mouth. He didn’t have any comfort left to offer.

But this time, Crowley’s eyes snapped open with a gasp, hands clutching at the sofa…then he sighed. “Guess that didn’t work after all,” he muttered.

Aziraphale didn’t dare to move. Those golden eyes wandered over to his face. “Angel? What’s wrong?”

“Crowley?” he asked weakly.

The demon sat up, reached a hand over to brush Aziraphale’s tear-stained face. “What happened?”

“You woke up,” he whispered wonderingly. And before he could even think about it, Aziraphale threw his arms around Crowley pulling him close, sobbing into his shoulder. “I thought you weren’t going to – I didn’t know what to do…”

“I can’t have been asleep that long,” Crowley protested. “I just…I had a nightmare,” he confessed, as if it were an embarrassing secret.

Aziraphale just wept harder. “I thought I could help! I’m so – I’m so sorry, Crowley! I didn’t know what to do, I’m sorry!”

“Hey.” Hesitantly, awkwardly, he twined his own arms across Aziraphale’s back. “I woke up, didn’t I? Nothing for you to do.”

“But the other three times!”

“What?” Crowley pushed them apart to meet Aziraphale’s eyes, his own still solidly gold, wide with fear. “What other three times?”

--

They didn’t see each other for four days.

Crowley needed time to absorb what Aziraphale told him, about the illusory fire, the things he had shouted. Things he’d tried to hide, after the Apocalypse. After all, the shop hadn’t really burned, Aziraphale hadn’t really been hurt, so what was there to tell?

Nothing at all, except for the images that still haunted his dreams, and the fact that his eyes wouldn’t change back to their more human shape, the fact that he still smelled fire in the shop some days.

Aziraphale needed time to process, too. And he did that best while reading.

He’d once read a book on dreaming. Now he read as many as he could find.

On the fourth evening, he showed up at Crowley’s flat, unannounced, with several boxes of supplies and a plan.

--

The nightlight was a cool green, not too bright, making the bedroom appear to be underwater. The illusion was slightly spoiled by the little stars stuck to the ceiling in complex constellations – just regular glow-in-the-dark stickers, but Aziraphale had miracle them a little brighter.

The record player in the corner played some of Crowley’s favorite Nocturnes, the ones he’d been certain Aziraphale didn’t know about. Soft and soothing music filled the room.

The bed had already been comfortable, but now with fresh pillows, an extra thick mattress cushion, Crowley felt as if he was sinking into it, surrounded. Even though the room was a perfectly comfortable temperature, Aziraphale added a thick duvet with a tartan cover. It was heavy, and it smelled like the angel. It felt…secure, somehow. Safe.

But that wasn’t all.

Crowley looked at Aziraphale, dressed in tartan pajamas, hands nervously resting on the edge of the bed. “Are you sure you want to do this? It’s really not –”

“I’m certain.” Taking a deep breath, Aziraphale slid into bed beside Crowley, fussing with the duvet, trying to tuck them both in under it. “And I don’t want to hear another word against it.”

“It’s really nothing, Angel, I don’t need to sleep. All this is just –”

“All of this is to remind you that you are safe. There’s no fire. No demons. No…whatever other terrors are lurking in your mind. I am here, you are safe, and we will get through this together.”

Crowley sighed, turning onto his side to face Aziraphale. “I know I’m not in any danger.”

“Knowing you aren’t in danger isn’t the same thing as feeling safe.”

For the first time in over a month, Crowley felt a real laugh rise inside him. “You read a few books and you think you’re an expert.”

“I’m as good as you’re going to get.” Warm arms, thick, strong, soft, wrapped around Crowley and drew him close, pressed him to the angel’s heart.

“What if the dreams come back again?”

“They almost certainly will. But we’ll find ways to fight them. I already have some ideas.”

“You don’t have to,” Crowley muttered, one final protest, one final doubt. One final shame. “I’m the one who’s broken. After everything we went through, you shouldn’t have to fix me.”

“Oh, no. My dear Crowley.” The faintest pressure of lips against the top of his head. “I didn’t fight all of Heaven and Hell to create a world where you are scared all the time. It is my duty – no, my pleasure to help you, my dearest friend.”

Crowley was too choked up to say anything, so instead he twined his arms around Aziraphale, let himself relax against Aziraphale, breathed deeply the scent of Aziraphale until it filled his whole mind.

“Now,” came that precise, officious, lovely voice, “we need to make sure you’re thinking of something completely unrelated to the fire.”

“How do you propose we do that?” Crowley asked in his most suggestive voice.

“Shush, you.” Aziraphale shifted, sliding his cheek across Crowley’s, bringing his mouth to Crowley’s ear, and spoke softly, soothingly. “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”

“Actually, I prefer Persuasion.”

“Interrupt me again, and it’ll be Northanger Abbey.”

“Ngk.”

But he smiled into the angel’s shoulder as he began again: “Sir Walter Elliot, of Kellynch Hall, in Somersetshire, was a man who, for his own amusement, never took up any book…”

[amarabliss]

Oaths and Hearts - 18 (Ignis Scientia/Reader)

So this is a crossover between FFXV and Dragon Age Inquisition.

You fell through a rift into the fade fighting the demons you swore to protect your world from. When you popped out you were no longer in the lands of Ferelden instead trapped in Insomnia. The gracious king allowed you to say recognizing power when he saw it. One thing led to another and now you were part of the procession of the prince to his wedding years later. Before the final battle, after years of fighting, losses, and love…your friend…your king…Noctis has asked you to change it all…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11  Part 12  Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16  Part 17

Ignis yawned as he walked onto the site of construction. He took in a deep breath before raising his coffee up for a drink. His peace was broken by Gladio giving his two cents, “Duel wielding is illegal in some countries.”

Ignis turned giving him an exasperated look, “I know for a fact that duel wielding is completely legal in Insomnia, but I suppose you’re referring to my coffee and thermos.”

“Rough night still?” Gladio looked at him with concern.

“Her contractions are getting more frequent.” Ignis brought the cup up again, “She nearly said it was time last night.”

“She did?” Gladio’s eyes widened before he smiled, “Wow…It’s hard to believe you’re going to be a dad soon.”

“Did it happen? Are we uncles!?” Prompto ran up to him.

“Do you really think he’d be here if Y/N had the baby?” Noctis walked over wearing a safety hat on smirking, “Better get used to sleepless nights buddy.”

“So, I have been reminded daily.” Ignis sighed before setting his thermos on a bench, “Enough about me, where are we in the project?”

“Iggy…” Noct stepped close to him, “we do have a handle on this. You can go and get some rest.”

Ignis smiled at him, “I appreciate the concern, but I am getting enough rest. Y/N assures me we still have a couple of weeks…”

He looked at them all staring at him. Gladio was the first to speak, “Did you…read that in a book?”

“I…no…she just…I trust her.” Ignis set his empty cup down, “She is a woman after all…”

“Ignis, babies aren’t like calendars…” Gladio sighed shaking his head, “I can’t even remember the amount of false alarms my mom and dad had with Iris…and she was early…like three weeks early.”

Ignis stared at him a moment before shaking his head a little, “This is different.”

“You’re delusional!” Prompto rolled his eyes before smiling, “Regardless…I have the camera close by so we can get all the pictures we need when our little man arrives.”

“Our?” Ignis watched him and Gladio walking toward the contractor.

“Yeah…” Noctis smiled at him, “You’re the first of us to have a kid. We’re excited and knowing your baby is a little man…expect many gifts and a spoiled rotten kid. At least for a little while…”

Ignis looked at him, “You are Luna have talked then…”

“More then that.” Noct blushed a little, “She has her duties and I have mine, but…we can’t help wanting more then just our kingdoms and responsibilities.”

“Well…in time, you’ll get your wish.” Ignis put a hand on his shoulder, “You’re both young yet…”

“You say that as if you’re so much older then I am.” Noct laughed as they both walked to catch up with the others.

“In terms of maturity, until recently…” Ignis smirked chuckling as Noct glared at him a little.

The work was hard and honest. Rebuilding took manpower they didn’t have and everyone had begun to wear thin. But hope was in the future.

Luna had convinced Altissia to send aid sooner than later. The boys capture of the crystal had made a significant impact in how the world viewed Insomnia's young king. Not to mention the flocks of Insomnian citizens returning home. Everyone wanted to help.

It was the beginning of a new world view. Status barely mattered, just assisting your fellow man was enough.

Ignis looked up at the bright blue sky wiping is brow. Noctis had decided that rebuilding the hospital and other public venues needed to be priority one. The people rallied behind and progress was good despite the lack of supplies and people.

“Ignis!” The alarmed cry from below Drew is attention away from a flock of flying birds. It was Libertus and Tor running up to the work crews.

“Right here…what’s wrong?” He pushed through the crowd to get to them.

“Its time.” The both told him breathless, “She…Y/N…she’s…”

“What?” Ignis felt his hair practically stand on end as he shook his head, “No…no we’re supposed to have more time…we…”

“Iggy…” He looked at Gladio who stepped up next to him with Prompto, “it’s time…”

“But…nothing’s ready. I was supposed…I…we don’t even have a crib…” Ignis frowned putting a hand to his forehead.

“Hey hey!” Prompto waved his hands at him, “You only have one thing to worry about right now and that’s getting to Y/N and helping her. That’s your job right now.”

Ignis looked at him finding a strange comfort from his words before he nodded, “Right…yes, of course.”

“So, let’s get you there as fast as we can.” Noctis stepped up next to him putting his arm around Ignis’ shoulders, “Hold on.”

Ignis had warped before in short spurts when he and Noct performed maneuvers in battle. Galdio and Prompto both said that it made them sick afterwards. Ignis didn’t find he had that problem until now as his nerves fell into overdrive.

“Breathe Specs.” Noct reminded him as they landed already halfway to their destination.

Ignis looked at him seeing sweat drip down his friend’s face, “Noct, I can manage the rest.”

“Nonsense…” Noct shook his head warping to the next spot taking in a deep breath, “I can get you a bit closer.”

“Noct…” Ignis gently pushed him away toward a bench, “Sit…call Gladio and Prompto to come pick you up…”

As he turned away he heard Noct speak, “You’re gonna be great…just…breathe.”

Ignis looked back at him giving him a sturdy nod before turning back and taking off in a run. Every single step felt like fire began coursing through him. He didn’t know how to be a father…his was taken from him when he was young.

Not that his father hadn’t done well…but he remembered Roderick. His father was kind and gentle, but always seeking the truth and never giving up to find it. Brief images of riding his shoulders through their home, a proud smile, dancing in the kitchen…

He burst into the Citadel rushing to the stairs feeling his legs beginning to burn. As he pushed the door open, he heard a loud wail and he felt his stomach drop. He walked forward pushing through people standing in the hall. Nurses, doctors, patients…

“Y/N…” He heard Dr. Reed speaking, “Y/N you have to calm down…”

“What’s going on?” Ignis pushed forward and a nurse intercepted him as Dr. Reed turned around, “Dr. Reed…”

“Mr. Scientia…” Dr. Reed stepped close to him, “There’s been a…complication…”

“Complication…” Ignis eyes jumped to the open door as something crashed inside and you let out another groan, “Y/N!?”

Dr. Reed put his hands on Ignis’ chest with the nurse, “I can’t let you in there.”

“Ignis…” Your voice sounded weak and scared.

“Get out the way.” Ignis began pushing through them but was held back, “Move!”

“It’s too dangerous!” Dr. Reed raised his voice, “If I let you in there, there is a chance you will not walk out.”

“I don’t care, my wife needs me. Now move.” Ignis voice was low as he glared at the doctor feeling their hands move off him. He adjusted his shirt before stepping into the room.

His eyes widened as the scorch marks on the walls and floor. All the medical equipment was strewn about away from you. You were standing gripping onto the bed railing shaking.

“Y/N…” He began to step forward, but you raised you hand toward him.

“Stay back…” You turned shaking your hair from your sweating face, “…you…you have to leave.”

He stood still staring at you, “Y/N…I will not leave you. Not now…not ever…”

“I-I can’t control it…” You cringed putting you hand to your stomach letting out a painful groan. He took your distracted state to his advantage stepping right over to you. Your eyes opened and you started shaking your head, “No…No Ignis…”

“Shh…” He took your hand tightly in his as his other reached up pushing your hair away from your eyes, “We knew this might happen…”

Your face contorted as tears slipped down your face, “It’s so much worse…it’s so…”

“Shh…” He kissed your forehead, “We’re going to do this together…people with magic have been having babies for thousands of years from your land, you said so yourself.”

You let out another loud guttural groan as contractions came upon you, with it came an uncontrolled spell of chained lighting. It erupted through the floor around them. It was as he expected, his proximity to you protected him from the spell.

“Dr. Reed…” Ignis looked over at the door, “Be ready with everything you need for the baby…we’re doing this alone until we need you…assist with advisements only, do not enter unless I tell you.”

Dr. Reed confirmed as Ignis began turning you toward him have you hold onto his shoulders for support. You hands dug into his shoulders painfully, “I shouldn’t have….done this…mages shouldn’t…there’s too much chaos…I could hurt someone…you…our baby…”

“None of that…you are exactly as you should be…now look at me…” He brushed your hair away from your face, “You’re strong…”

“No…” You shut your eyes hanging your head again.

He lifted your chin looking into your eyes, “Yes. The strongest person I know. You fell through worlds, lost everyone and everything you ever knew, adjusted to an insane new lifestyle…with insane new people.”

“Y/N…you don’t remember but you traveled in time itself to save your family…the one we’re starting here and now…” He pressed his forehead against yours and smiled, “For a daughter we will one day have…so believe me when I say, you can do this.”

“Ignis…ooo….” You balled up his shirt in your hands as another contraction overtook you.

“It’s time.” Dr. Reed spoke from the doorway, “You’re going to have to push…I…I suggest laying down…”

“No…” You shook your head, “No…I…”

“It’s alright…we can stand…” He looked around the room before helping you toward a chair, “Brace yourself on this…I’ll need to be below to catch him.”

You nodded as you took in a deep shuddered breath grabbing onto the chair with one hand, “If…”

“I won’t let it come to that.” He took your other hand pressing it to his lips shutting his eyes. You wanted him to put you under if it came to it. You had researched c-sections, and even Dr. Reed had considered it but felt your concerns weren’t merited.

He could see Dr. Reed was reconsidering his position as he looked back as he reached for some gloves, “Doctor?”

“Ignis, you’ll need to reach up and check her cervix…based on her contractions…I’m positive she’s ready, but to be sure… insert two fingers…” He walked Ignis through what he was and wasn’t supposed to feel. Based on what was described back to him Dr. Reed confirmed full dilation, “The next time you feel a contraction you need to bear down…deep breath…and push…Ignis you’re going to see the head first…and gravity will probably work quickly.”

Ignis looked up at you as begin letting out quick short breaths trying you best to remain in control, “Darling…we do it now…just let go and think of Ulric.”

You nodded as you adjusted as the contraction wracked your body. He saw the immense strain you began to put on yourself as you pushed letting out a warrior’s scream. He could indeed see you taking down hordes of demons and dragons for those you loved in that moment. The moment you were becoming a mother, the joining a league of strongest forces the universe could create. His focus shifted quickly from your face to the small life beginning to join them in this world.

The process repeated. He hardly acknowledged the lights shattering above them as the storm you let loose raged everywhere around them. His heartbeat was so loud as he couldn’t hear his voice as he instructed you for one final push.

Then everything happened so fast…he was holding his crying son in his hands. Tears flooded into his eyes as he spoke, “He’s here…he’s here…”

“He…Ig…Ignis…” You looked back at them both.

Ignis saw your small smile before your legs started to give out. With precision reflexes he was up catching you with his one arm, “Y/N…”

“Go, go!” He heard behind him as he set your tired form into the chair. Nurses and Dr. Reed rushed into the room around them.

One nurse made eye contact with him taking his son from him to be examined. His eyes went back to you as they carefully lifted you to the bed. Dr. Reed confirmed everything had gone well as you began to come back eyes cracking back open when Ulric began to cry.

“…mm…my baby…” You reached up weakly and Ignis took your hand.

“He’s right here…just one more moment.” He whispered moving in to kiss your forehead, “You did so well my love.”

“Here we go…” A smiling nurse came back holding Ulric in a clean blanket as he cried, “meet your momma…”

Tears flooded his Ignis’ eyes again as you were handed him. Instantly his son’s cries disappeared as you pressed your cheek against his head, and the most miraculous sight occurred. A spell he’d only ever seen you use once to save everyone in battle rushed over everyone in the room.

Every nerve that had been set afire calmed in his body as tingling warmth replaced it. He felt energy being restored, as did everyone else who had their anxiety shooting through the roof. A knight’s resurgence…a revival.

You looked up at him as the calm feeling fell over everyone in the room, “Ignis…he’s wonderful…”

“He is…” A nurse handed him some towels to clean up before he leaned back to his family touching and kissing them both, “You both are…”

After sometime everyone shuffled around before taking Ulric back to be put in the nursery to give you time to be tended to. Before you were wheeled away you grabbed his arm, “Don’t leave him…”

There was such fear in your eyes, he could not refuse you. He followed the nurse down the hall looking in the bassinet at his perfect creation. Having no traditional facilities yet, they had converted a small office into the nursery.

“Would you like to hold him again, dad?” The nurse smiled at Ignis as she finished reswaddling him.

“I…” He wasn’t really given the option as she placed the boy back in his arms. He choked up looking at him, “I love you…I love you so much.”

Ulric fussed a little as he brought him up kissing his little hands. Staring at him made all time seem to stop that he didn’t notice three onlookers standing in the doorway until he heard the sound of a shutter. He looked up seeing Prompto snapping photos grinning just as big as the other two.

“How long have you been there?” Ignis walked over to them.

Noctis beamed up at him, “Oh…just fifteen minutes or so…”

“You should have said something.” Ignis bobbed his arms up and down as Ulric began to move a little, “But that’s beside the point…everyone…meet Ulric.”

“Wow…” Gladio whispered reaching over touching Ignis’ arm gently, “You did good.”

“I’ll say…hey little dude!” Prompto whispered, “I’m your Uncle Prompto…and I’m gonna be your favorite!”

“Nah…his uncle the king will be.” Noct nudged the blonde a little getting everyone to chuckle.

“We got him something.” Gladio stepped out into the hall before coming back inside holding a bag.

Ignis watched as the boys smirked at him before pulling out a book, “Oh…well it’s a little early…”

“Well in time he’s gonna want to know about everything…this is just a fun way to do it.” Gladio stepped in opening the book to show Ignis, “It’s yours and Y/N’s story minus some parts, plus others…see…”

Ignis looked at a beautifully illustrated child’s book showing how you met them all including Nyx, but everyone was drawn in a cartoonish way. Gladio flipped through it and it showed you both going on a date in Altissia, then fighting side by side to save Noct all the way leading up to being brought home.

“It’s wonderful…thank you…” He looked at them all before turning to Noctis who had nonstop been staring at the small child in his arms since he walked over, “Would you like to hold him?”

“Oh I…” Noct began to shake his head.

“There is no one I would trust more with son.” Ignis told him gently handing him over, “Support his head…”

Noct looked at Ulric and smiled before looking at Ignis, “So how’s it feel? We heard it was a special type of delivery.”

Ignis sat down looking up at them, “I never anticipated delivering him myself…but I can’t imagine doing it any other way…When I held him…it was…it was like everything inside me began to reset and reform…there’s really no words…except that I love him. I love him and I would do anything for him.”

He lifted his glasses off his face wiping the sudden tears away as the boys crowded around him in support. Everything was finally right in the world. Everything was just as it should be…