#it’ll just appear before you in the most unexpected places with no explanation or warning

[raddest-laddest]

i love when people headcanon hollow to be this sweet lil child who likes to take naps and pick flowers and loves their family and wants to make their father proud

and then ghost is just a fucking cryptid

[knivesareout]

Day and Night For You

Pairing: Steve Murphy x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Smut! (18+ ONLY!) Fingering, Oral (fem receiving), spanking, ass play, squirting, breathplay, cock warming, unprotected sex.

A/N: Aaaand another one. Started this on Tuesday and now we’re here. Am I a writer now? Who can say at this point- it’s only two fics and a couple drabbles. You can also read it on AO3 here.

Summary: Settling in to watch a movie with Steve takes a turn when you can’t stop your mind from wandering and he confronts you about it. 

Your husband coming home with enough time to eat dinner, watch a movie, and go to bed at the same time as you had become a rare occurrence lately. Having Steve sitting next to you on the couch was something you wanted to soak in, your body pressed tightly against his side as you two watch a movie. 

You were vaguely aware enough of the plot playing out on screen that if Steve were to ask you questions later on, you could answer, but your real focus was on him. The steady breathing of his chest, the roughness of his fingertips tracing along your bare thigh. The atmosphere had lulled you into a comfortable feeling- at least until you heard someone yelling on screen, your head perking up at the loud voice.

Watching as the male character pushes his wife against the wall with his hand around her throat, you swallow slowly. The scene was something you were no stranger to in your personal life; not with how dominant Steve was in the bedroom. But lately you’d barely managed a quickie most nights before he was out like a light, exhausted from work and snoring lightly in your ear. The fault was hardly his own; trying to catch Escobar was proving no easy task and you were willing to do whatever little you could to help Steve in supporting him.

Your thighs rub together as the scene escalates, the couple moving to the bedroom and you sigh, biting at your lip. The movement of Steve’s hand on your thigh stops and you peer up at him, a question in your eye.

“What’s wrong?”

“Could ask you the same thing, honey. You’re over there making all kinds of noises and I’m just tryin’ to watch this. Everything alright?”

You simper with a nod, looking pointedly at the screen. “I’m okay, promise. Let’s just finish the movie.” Patting his thigh, you turn your focus back to the screen where you’ve managed to completely miss the passionate scene between the couple and you make sure not to make a disappointed noise, less Steve question you again.

—–

The film ends an hour later and you’re no less horny than you were before. Nothing but images of Steve’s hand around your throat fill your mind and you can feel the stickiness between your thighs as you stand up and stretch, the oversized t-shirt from your alma mater lifting up around your hips before dropping down again. Steve’s yawning into his fist and looks exhausted, his body heavily pressed into the couch and if he could sink into it, you’re sure he would.

“Come on then big guy, let’s get you to bed before you fuck up your back by passing out on the couch,” you tease, offering him a hand that he takes gratefully. 

Steve grunts, reaching out to pinch your hip. “That was one time, damnit. Will you ever let me live it down?”

You bat his hands away with a grin, moving around to turn off the lights in the living room before heading towards your bedroom. “Nope,” you tell him easily, turning around as you stand in the doorway and wait for him to stand in front of you. “You alright though?” Steve’s looking at you with an expression you’re not familiar with, his eyes bright and posture stiff, almost like he’s vibrating with the need to move.

“You know I can smell you right?”

Your posture falters and you almost choke on your tongue, glancing up at Steve with a question in your eyes. The blunt query has your mind in a scramble as you try to find the words to answer him and he doesn’t seem to like that as he steps closer and you’re toe to toe. 

Steve inhales deeply before speaking, his hand coming up to take your chin between his fingers and lock your gaze with his. “Can’t even enjoy a movie without you being a needy little thing,” he tuts, dragging a thumb across your bottom lip and you have to stop yourself from pulling the digit into your mouth. “Have I been neglecting you?”

The question is a genuine one, no teasing tone to be found, and you’re almost hesitant to answer, hoping that maybe your explanation will shed some light on how you’ve feeling. “No, not really. I just miss you. Miss when we used to take our time with each other is all.” You shrug, hoping you give off the appearance of being aloof rather than touch starved like you actually were.

It’s clear Steve appreciates the honesty as he nods in understanding, gripping your chin a bit tighter. “M’sorry about that sweetheart. How about I make it up to you, yeah? Let me take my time with you tonight.”

Your head nods so quickly it’s almost comical, your body shaking with a need so overwhelmingly intense you could cry. The promise of relief, no matter how long it’ll take to get there, is something you’re willing to do anything for and Steve can see it written across your face as you watch his every move.

Steve walks you back into your room, your steps careful as you maneuver towards your shared bed, feeling the back of your calves hit the foot of the bed frame and you fall onto the mattress, hands reaching behind you to catch your fall. 

“You’ve been teasing me all night, honey. Shorts so short I can’t even see them under your shirt, your nipples hard all night. And then I realized half way through the movie I could smell you. What part turned you on so much that I’d bet you’re soaked between those pretty little thighs of yours, hm?”

The low timbre of Steve’s voice makes your whole body warm as he looms over you, waiting for an answer. His large hands are sat on his hips, gaze trained on you and the way your body shifts to seek any sort of friction. His eyes follow your every move and it makes you nervous, teeth tugging at your bottom lip.

Normally you would play coy with him, shrug and say you didn’t know, but with how worked up you were it seemed silly to do anything but be completely blunt. “His hand around her throat,” you explain, placing your hands on your thighs and moving them up until you reach the top of your shorts and tug them down along with your underwear. “It made me miss your fingers pushing into my neck, Steve. Squeezing so hard I’d soak the sheets when you make me cum.” Kicking the material to the side, you spread your legs wide for him, head pushed into the plush pillows behind you.

You watch his eyes as your hands trail along the soft skin of the inside of your thighs, anticipating his next move. It’s hard for you to tell what he’s thinking, his facial expression neutral and the lack of light in the room has you at a disadvantage. 

“Steve, please.” 

In a flash, Steve grabs hold of your ankle and yanks you down the bed as you yelp in surprise, your legs hanging off the side as his hand comes around your throat. “Still want to be a tease?” He growls, thumb pressing into the skin so hard you’ll be surprised if there isn’t a bruise there in the morning. 

The pressure is electrifying. Your whole body is lit up, every nerve at attention as he holds his hand there. You crave this feeling from time to time, the clear show of authority that Steve has over your body the biggest turn on. Managing to shake your head, he loosens his grip around you and you try to catch your breath before he’s on you, turning your body around and pressing your face into the mattress. 

“You know all you have to do is ask for what you want, honey. I know I haven’t been the most attentive husband lately but I’ll always make time for you,” Steve promises, words sweet and contrasting with the way he’s man-handled you on the mattress; your ass up high and cheek squished into the comforter below you. 

You don’t dare move as you hear the rustling of fabric, assuming Steve’s undressing behind you. It’s torture as you wait for him to do something, anything, your hands curling into the blanket beneath you so they don’t stray.  

Steve’s hands are rough against your ass as he palms the flesh, pulling apart your cheeks only to slide one of his hands away to slap it, jolting you forward at the contact. You whimper as he touches you, both of his hands back on your bottom and fingers inching closer towards where you need him most. The inside of your thighs are sticky with arousal and you push your ass out for more, a silent plea for Steve to do something. 

“So god damn needy, aren’t you?” Steve runs a dry finger across your exposed asshole and you let out a shaky breath, the feeling unexpected but pleasant. It’d been too long since you both had time for something like that but you don’t hold out too much hope as the finger then drops lower to slide between the lips of your soaked pussy. “You’re fuckin’ soaked, sweetheart. It’s all down your thighs. Pussy actin’ like I haven’t touched it in days.” You whine as he pulls his finger away but it quickly turns into a moan as his hand hits your ass again, the flesh stinging from where his palm hit you.

“Steve, please. Please, please, please,” you beg him, your voice desperate and needy as your hips sway in a taunt for him to give you more. 

His hands grip your hips tightly as he turns you over and presses you higher up on the bed, your body trying to orient itself as he crawls up the mattress towards you. It’s like a hunter stalking its prey, the way his eyes follow your every movement and you whimper, holding your body still as you wait for his next step.

Steve parts your thighs wide for him as he settles between your legs, the warmth of his mouth instantaneous on your skin when he drops his lips to kiss along the sensitive inner part of your thighs. The hairs of his mustache scratch along your body and you sigh into the feeling, your hand reaching out to card through his blonde hair. 

“Tell me what you want,” Steve murmurs quietly against your thigh, his mouth close to your throbbing cunt and you can feel the heat radiating from his breath as he speaks.

“Want your mouth on my pussy, want you to make me cum so hard I cry.” Your words are quick and almost sound like they’re meshed together, your tongue heavy in your mouth. 

You can feel the vibrations as Steve hums against your thigh, sounding like he’s considering your request. His fingers part the lips of your pussy, exposing your heat to the cool air of your bedroom. Your fists clench into the comforter beneath you, trying to ground yourself as you anticipate his next move and once his tongue laps at your clit in broad strokes, you cry out in relief. 

The feeling is like a match to gasoline, your body arching into his mouth in search of more. It’s hot and wet, the sounds of him lapping at your sex filling the room and you wail once a finger slips into you. Steve is relentless in the way his long, thick finger fucks into you and he easily slips in another two, stuffing you full. The pressure is too much, his hands working you like an instrument he’s played his whole life, plucking at your body like strings. “You gonna soak me baby? I can feel the way you’re tightening around my fingers.” Steve moves to sit up and you gasp as his fingers find the angle that you’d been desperate for him to touch. 

There’s a pressure building in your lower stomach, the feeling familiar. It swells, threatening to crash over you. You will your body to let go, to welcome the tidal wave begging to consume you.

It’s too much and not enough all at once as his pace picks up, your body all but forcing his fingers out as you gush over his hand, on the sheets, and across his chest. Your body shakes as you come down and you blink quickly, trying to clear your vision. There’s a dull throbbing between your thighs that are now coated in a light wetness and you sigh in satisfaction.

If you had the energy to reach up and smack Steve, you would’ve. The smug smirk on his face was infuriating but your orgasm had left you boneless and it was clear he knew that. 

“You’re not tapping out already, are ya?” He teases, fingers lightly trailing across the inside of your still trembling thighs. “Cause I was thinkin’ of how much I wanna slide inside your pussy and fuck you until I fill you up and just stay there, plugging you up with my cum until it takes hold. Do you want that, pretty girl?”

His words render you still. It wasn’t something you both had talked about recently- going bareback. You weren’t on birth control, something with your insurance getting mixed up on the move down to Colombia. And if condoms weren’t used, or Steve didn’t pull out, there was a high probability of you falling pregnant. The last time it’d been discussed was right before your move and how you two wanted to wait until you were back in the States before you started trying to start a family, not wanting to add a child into what was an already high stress environment.  

Tilting your head in question at Steve, you wonder what he’s thinking. He seems so nonchalant about what he’s said, his hand stroking along the hard length of his cock while he waits for your answer- almost like he’s thought about it before now. God, do you want it. There’s nothing better than the feeling of Steve’s cum dripping down your thighs, him stuffing you full of his seed and marking you as his. 

You nod slowly in answer, a breathy sigh passing your lips at the thought of him filling you up after months of shitty condoms. “I want that. I want you to fill me up, Steve. Please.”

The sound of him stroking his slick cock fills the room and you watch as he shuffles on his knees until he’s close enough to rub the wet head against your clit, your body instinctively scooting down in search of more. You’re still sensitive, chest shuddering as he continues to torture you. 

“Fuck, you’re soaked baby. Could just slide right in,” Steve teases, the head of his cock catching on your entrance only to slide back up to your clit.

“I want it. I want your cock. Fuck,” you groan, fisting the sheets in your hands. “Want your cum so bad, Steve. Come on.” 

The hand that was resting on your hip comes up to press against your throat again, your head tilting back to give him more room. Your body arches into his touch and Steve slowly puts more pressure against your neck as he finally slides his cock into the soaked walls of your pussy, the feeling nothing but euphoric. 

Steve’s cock fits inside of you like a glove. Long and thick, stretching you in the most delicious way. It’s intoxicating, the feeling of him buried deep inside of you and you relish in the feeling until he starts to move.

His thrusts are slow at first, the long drag of his dick making you shudder beneath him. The palm of his hand is still pressed to your throat and you push down on the back of his hand a little, silently asking for more. 

A dark chuckle escapes Steve’s lips and he hunches forward, pressing down against your neck. “My dirty little baby, aren’t you? Just wanted a dick inside of ya and my hand pressed to your throat, that’s all.” 

It’s difficult to nod but you manage, sucking in a breath as he lets off a bit and starts thrusting in earnest. Steve’s movements are languid, meticulous. He’s hitting every spot that makes your body feel electric, like a live wire ready to explode at the right touch. 

“Steve, touch me. Fuck,” you draw out, his hips pulling out just enough to leave the tip of his cock inside of you before thrusting back in to start a more brutal, rough pace. 

“You like that honey?” He asks, the hand not around your throat coming down between your thighs to rub at your clit in slow strokes. “You wanna cum? Want me to fill you up and put a baby in ya? Stuff you so full of me you’ll be dripping all night?”

Nodding, you cry out in need. It’s too much, the push and pull of his cock coupled with his hand around your throat and the rough pad of his thumb on your clit. Your body locks up and you start pulsing around him, your orgasm crashing around you like a wave, drowning you. There’s a ringing in your ears and you’re vaguely aware of Steve’s rough grunting as he plows into you in search of his own release. 

“Fuck, gonna fuck you so full of my cum that you’re leaking. You feel so good, baby. Pussy so tight,” Steve rasps out, his hips stuttering as he falls apart above you. Mouth open, eyes clenched shut, your husband is a sight as he cums deep and hot inside of you, shuddering through his release.

Your hands run up and down his back in a soothing motion as he comes down, his own hands falling to the sides to catch himself above you, head dropping to your shoulder. “Fuck that was good,” he laughs, lips kissing along your collarbone and up to your cheek where he rests the tip of his nose.

Turning your head slightly, you brush your nose against his. “So. A baby huh?” The question is teasing, light, but deep down you really want to know what was going through his head to bring that up in the middle of some long overdue sex.

“Just been on my mind a lot,” he sighs, sliding a hand underneath your back to pull your body with his as he rolls over, his cock still nestled inside of you. “With everything goin’ on it just makes me realize that shit isn’t guaranteed and I want that with you. Always have. A family; little ones with your hair and my nose.”

You listen, running a hand across his face- up the slope of his nose, smoothing out the furrow between his brow and then up into his hair where you scratch gingerly at his scalp. 

“I should’ve said something before instead of springing that up in the middle of sex but it was like something snapped in me. ‘M sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, baby. Was just a bit of a shock is all,” you promise, hand sliding behind his neck and rubbing under the base of his skull to further relax him. “You know I’ve always wanted that with you too.”

Steve nods, pushing his head into your touch. “I know.”

Shifting your hips, you grimace at the sticky feeling between your legs but make no effort to move beyond trying to get more comfortable as you sprawl across your husband’s broad chest and glance up at him, a fond look written across his face as he looks back at you.

“You know, if we sleep now I might wake up in time for another round before I have to go in for work,” Steve grins, wiggling his eyebrows. 

You don’t even reply, just lay your head against his chest where his heart lies beneath your ear and start to snore over exaggeratedly, giggling to yourself.

“I love you, baby,” he reminds you quietly, arms wrapping tightly to your middle. 

Yawning, you close your eyes. “I love you too.”

[ddarker-dreams]

False Recovery. Yan Risotto x Reader [COMM]

warnings: bodily injury mention, medication mention word count: 3.2k

Why can’t adrenaline just last forever?

It might not be your place to question evolution or human biology, not having the most knowledge in the field to reasonably voice your concerns. Sure, pain is necessary to identify where a body part might be hurt, but does it need to be this excruciating? A little pinch should suffice, why does your nervous system need to fuck you over like this? 

Complaining to yourself isn’t going to do any good, aside from the occasional nose exhale at your incredulous thoughts. That serves to make the pain worse, muted curses leaving your lips as a fresh wave of pain wracks over your body at any movement. A first aid kit sits in front of you, taunting your weakness. Your field requires being exposed to near death situations, and here you are, still unable to cope with physical pain. It’s not the worst part of today, that crown gem was stolen by passing out and needing to be carried back to base. You’ll never live that one down.

Should any of your teammates spot you, you cringe at the barrage of deprecating comments that’d be slewn your way. The last thing you need is to be demeaned for your lack of ability to endure pain, you’d feel half tempted to summon your Stand and silence them. Depending on who saw fit to disturb you, it might work out, but it’s still not worth all the trouble. All that matters to you now is getting this disinfected before it has time to fester, the marks against your chest making you frown deeply. 

It still remains a mystery as to how you received these peculiar wounds. It looks like knife marks against your chest, clean and expertly done. In your line of work, you can recognize a lot about a person from how they attack. Looking in the mirror at your tattered shirt, a few observations can be made. The lines don’t go deep, only far enough to draw blood and break into the first layer of your skin; avoiding any vital organs. It felt like the wound was coming from inside of you, before surfacing and puncturing your flesh.The assignment ended up in a battle against a Stand user, not one that dealt with knives or anything that could puncture you in this manner. So how did these wounds come to be? Lowering the sorry remains of your shirt back down, you fail to notice an imposing figure standing behind you until the last second.

“R-Risotto?” 

Piercing crimson eyes look at you, surrounded by black scleras. You despise how your voice squeaked at the sight of your intimidating boss, reminding yourself of Pesci more than a calm and collected assassin. His countenance remains stony as always, letting himself into the room and shutting the door behind him. Knowing Risotto, he’s piecing together the information before him and likely wondering why you haven’t tended to your wounds yet. Expressing to a fellow assassin that you’re squeamish when it comes to your own injuries is far too humiliating a fate, so your mind scrambles to offer an explanation.

“I was just about to disinfect myself from the injuries I received earlier.” You let out a forced laughing, hoping it’ll dissipate the uncomfortable atmosphere. He doesn’t so much as blink, staring down at you as if you suggested something idiotic. Or maybe he isn’t thinking anything of your incompetence, it’s impossible to tell with how stoic his face is. You gulp when he doesn’t make a motion to leave, instead walking towards the first aid kit that sits on the counter. Risotto opens it up, eyeing the content with familiarity, reaching for the antiseptic.

“Sit down and take your shirt off,” Risotto’s voice commands authority, low and straight to the point. “You’ll get an infection otherwise.” 

Can’t he have a shred more tact during this encounter? That might be too much to ask for from a renowned assassin, your cheeks flushing at the possible insinuation in his words. As one of the newer members of the hitman team, you feel strongly about proving yourself. Not to mention that you’re the only female member, an extra fact that weighs down upon you. You’re competent to have made it this far within the organization, and you want others to acknowledge this. Still, it’s not like you can wave him off, he is your boss. So what is there to do? 

Scratching your rapidly warming cheek, you make an attempt to weasel out of this situation. “I’m sure you have a lot on your plate already. I was just about to patch myself up, anyways.” 

Ignoring your pitiful string of excuses, Risotto picks up the antiseptic before motioning for you to sit down on the couch. From his lack of response you quickly deduce that this matter isn’t up for debate, and hang your head in surrender. While the details surrounding Risotto Nero are murky, you figure he’s had his fair share of run ins that led to injuries. You were going to likely need help with this anyways, so it’s best if one of the professionals handles it. A lot better than having to strike a deal with Melone, or Ghiaccio at least. Though you doubt anything you said to the latter would have helped.

Sitting down into the plush couch with a dramatic sigh, your trembling fingers go to the edge of your tattered shirt. The fight with the target shouldn’t have been so difficult, but the randomly appearing abrasions to your skin threw you off. Thinking it might have been a new ability that you didn’t know had ruined your plans, putting you on the defense rather than the offense. What a humiliating day this has been… you’ll treat yourself to a nice breakfast after a full night of sleep, or maybe even a new pair of pajamas. 

Risotto watches wordlessly as you reveal your chest, only left in ripped shorts and a bra. He doesn’t strike you as the lecherous type, not focusing on your exposed chest, and instead getting straight to work. You’re grateful at his professionalism, but still feeling flustered over everything. Dipping a fresh set of gauze into the antiseptic, the sterile scent hits your nose as soon as he opens the bottle. You lean back out of instinct when his hand approaches the flesh wound, inhaling sharply. Much to your surprise, he looks up to you to confirm that you’re alright. You nod your head, a mix of emotions hitting you all at once at the admittedly compassionate move. 

There’s no opportunity to linger on the unexpected kindness, as your confirmation makes him place the gauze against your tender skin. A hiss escapes from your lips, a fresh wave of pain hitting you all at once. The stinging is the worst part, only growing stronger as he works his way over the entire area. Your eyes squeeze shut in a meager attempt to alleviate the throbbing pain, fingers curling and nails digging into the skin of your palm. It’s over as soon as it began, Risotto now moving to wrap bandages around your upper torso. 

“You really didn’t have to do that,” you blurt out against your better judgement, internally cursing yourself for being too blunt. He pays you no mind, instead placing the medical equipment back into its place. “But… thank you.” 

“Keeping yourself in top condition is important in this line of work.” Risotto shuts the kit closed with a low click, placing it back into the cabinet of supplies. You take the time of silence to reflect on his words, silently agreeing. All you can do is hope he doesn’t think of you so dense that you would be incapable of taking care of yourself. There can be time to lament the semantics of his language earlier, your curiosity has now been piqued. It’s late into the night, everyone else having headed off long ago. Risotto’s duties are likely different than your own, maybe even involving paperwork or something similar, but you’ve been in this room for hours. Surely he could’ve been in the comforts of his own home by now.

“Is there anything I can help with?” you inquire with a tilt of the head, kicking your legs into the air and using the momentum to stand up. Risotto doesn’t ignore you, instead turning around and possibly considering your offer. While the thought of spending alone time with this intimidating and mysterious man isn’t high on your list of desires, it feels right to repay him somehow. He might not show it in the conventional ways, but you know that he looks out for you and everyone else. Offering advice when necessary, or even rebuking ideas that would’ve led to more casualties. He’s efficient and doesn’t mess around with niceties, and has undoubtedly earned your respect. 

He gives you a once over, motioning to the blood that begins to seep through the bandages. You look down at the pathetic sight, feeling like shrinking under his unblinking stare. Maybe he blinks at the same time as you? It’s the only logical explanation that comes to mind. Before you can theorize further, Risotto speaks up once more. You’ve never seen him this talkative with the others, not that you can blame him. Everyone else is questionable company at best, Melone at worst.

“You should focus on healing. Go home and get some rest.” 

Your strength declining at a rapid rate, you feel inclined to give in and slink off as he suggested. It doesn’t feel right with you to receive a favor without returning it in kind, so you test your luck one more time. “I don’t think a few scratches will be the end of me. It’s what, two in the morning? Surely I can be of some assistance, so you can get some sleep too.” 

This time, Risotto doesn’t humor your attempts, having already made up his mind. “It’s been a long day. Head home.” 

You don’t see the point in bothering him any further, fighting down a yawn. The thought of sleep does sound wonderful right about now, maybe even taking a day or two off. Waving goodbye to him for the night, you make your way out the door, feeling his eyes on your back with every step. 

-

The knife in your hand cuts through the orange peel with ease, shaving the skin off and leaving only the citrusy fruit inside. It’s a simple snack, but one that has your mouth watering nonetheless. Working up the energy to cook with all the fatigue pain killers brought has been a losing battle, and you don’t feel like getting food delivered again. So this fruit you found in your fridge will have to suffice for the time being. Following the lines of the orange, you take a section off and plop it into your mouth, juice bursting over your tongue. You’re grateful to your past self for thinking to buy more fruit, though it looks like another grocery trip is in order. Living on your own can be difficult at times, but there’s an appeal to it. The independence is nice, you think.

When you’re about ready to go for another bite, you hear your doorbell ring. Your mind starts to wonder who it could be, ranging from a delivery at the wrong house to your landlord. The latter does 

sound appealing, not when you’re cranky from being injured and on multiple medications to appease the pain that comes with it. Running across your apartment with the orange still in hand, you peak out the window, your jaw slacking at the sight. 

It’s… Risotto? 

Not wanting to keep him waiting in the sweltering heat of summer, you scurry to your door and open it. When he makes eye contact with you, you regret not having freshened yourself up more. Wearing your hair up and a tank top and shorts to fend off the oppressive heat, you must look more like a college student than a reliable member of Passione’s assassin team. You clear your throat, straightening your back out and pulling your shirt down. Hopefully there’s no orange juice on your face, that’d be embarrassing…

“Uh, hey,” you wince at how stupid and unsure of yourself you sound. What else is there for you to say? You don’t even want to know how he managed to find your address, for someone like him it was probably a walk in the park. “You can come in if you want. Need any water?” 

The fruit in your hand has earned his attention, but he doesn’t comment, instead deciding to accept your invitation and walk past you. You shut the door behind him, feeling too nervous to finish your snack, and remembering your offer to get him water. With a sigh of relief, you scamper off to your kitchen, setting down the orange and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. The blast of cool air that hits you from opening your fridge helps you get a grip, your heartbeat increasing at the thought of Risotto being in your apartment. You’ll never understand him. 

He’s looking at a picture of you and a friend that’s hung on your wall, and you can’t help but laugh at the sight. Risotto looks a bit out of place in casual environments that aren’t shrouded in darkness and mystery, like a character plucked from a comic book and set into real life. Not that you’d ever have the guts to tell him this, seeing as you value having iron in your blood. He catches the bottle when you throw it to him with his free hand, turning his attention back to you. 

Risotto examines the bottle with interest, before taking a sip. “How are your injuries?”

So that’s what this is about. You give a halfhearted shrug. “I’ve had worse. I still don’t understand how a Stand relating to sound managed to scratch me like this though.” 

Truth be told, in the plentiful amount of time you’ve had to think while your wounds recover, the thought hasn’t left your head. When you finally finished the job and gave the target a search over, there was nothing on their person that resembled a knife that matched the marks on your chest. The moment during the fight is still blurry, all you remember is a hot pain, blood, and your torso feeling like it was being shredded. Just thinking about it makes you shiver. 

“Stand battles are always unpredictable.”

Maybe you’re imagining things, but he seems fast to want and move past the topic. Dismissing your concerns, something unidentifiable flashes over his face. It’s not like you don’t know that. As the phrase goes, dead men tell no tales. You’ll never be able to question the target on how they managed to land that hit, not when he’s a corpse. Your theories will have to satisfy for now. A scent of tomato grabs your attention, and you realize it’s coming from the bag Risotto’s holding. Before you weren’t paying much attention to it, now you recognize a restaurant’s logo on the bag. He raises it up, and places it on your kitchen counter top. 

“It’s some stuff I picked up on the way here. I’m not sure what you like, so feel free to throw out whatever you don’t want.” Risotto explains as if this were a regular occurrence, returning his attention back to you. You blink rapidly, wondering if this is all a side effect dream from all the painkillers. This is going far and beyond what a boss would need to do, treading into friend territory. Not that you mind, it just isn’t what you expected from someone of Risotto’s stature. The sweet gesture is much appreciation, your stomach all but growling at the thought of some savory food to chow down on. 

While not overflowing with money, you do well for yourself. It feels wrong to accept all this food without offering to pay for it. “Here, let me pay you back. This looks like a lot…” 

Multiple bowls of soup with condensation on the lids, a few various pasta dishes, some different kinds of bread, and a few scoops of chocolate gelato. Looking at the feast in front of you makes your eyes practically bulge out, this is enough for a celebration, not a single person! 

“Don’t bother.” He snuffs out your attempt at repaying him with a succinct phrase. You reach into the bag, settling on the first piece of bread that catches your attention, and nibbling on it. It’s still warm.

“I… I can’t thank you enough. Are you hungry? You should have some too.” 

Not that you’re surprised, but he shakes his head. With the next few days having meals covered in full, you feel an innate sense of relief. Planning and going through with meal plans has always been a nightmare, even if you like cooking. Too much preparation and thought has to go into it, especially anything with vegetables. The restaurant is one a few blocks away from your house, a higher end type of place you’ve walked by countless times. How much money does Risotto make, anyways? Why is he even bothering to go through all this effort for you? He’s a good leader, you know that much, but this feels like something else entirely. 

It may be the heat, or the lack of sleep, or the side effects from all the medication, but your mind starts running. The question is reminiscent of a schoolgirl giggling with her friends, wondering if so and so has a crush on her. Risotto has never made a serious move on you, not that you can think of. Unless this was him doing just that, and you’ve been oblivious all along. You admit that he’s physically attractive, and that you’ve found your short interactions with him pleasant.The thought of being in a relationship for now is off putting, so you push these thoughts away.

“I’ll be ready to accept jobs again by tomorrow.” You take another bite of your bread, wiping away some crumbs near your mouth. The unprecedented time off might negatively impact the others, and you couldn’t stand for that. A few flesh wounds won’t get in between you and your job, especially since they’re healing up fine. 

“It might not look bad, but if you overexert yourself, the wounds will open up more and require stitches,” he points out to you, causing you to frown. It makes sense, but twiddling your thumbs at home until it heals doesn’t feel like a viable option. Sensing your impatience, he speaks up again. “I’ll bring what you need until you heal properly.” 

Appearances aside, he’s stubborn. In every aspect of how Risotto carries himself, he demands respect. His words feel absolute, and you give yourself into his whims. It’s the same self-assured nature that gives you confidence when you don’t know what to do, a trait unique to him. From how the marks are already starting to scab over, you don’t think it’ll be an unreasonable amount of time off. Offering him a smile, you nod once in agreement.

“Alright, you got me. I won’t overdo it.” 

He almost looks amused, the corner of his lip tugging up. He looks content himself, for reasons unknown. 

“I wouldn’t let you, anyways.” 

[astraeagreengrass]

Blue

The Blue Henley™ and that’s it.

Word Count: 1.567

Warnings: Short and sweet. Mentions of sexy times (no actual sexy times though). English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

A/N: Did I just write something inspired by The Blue Henley™? You bet I did! This is my submission to @jalapenobarnes writing challenge. My prompt was “Basorexia - the overwhelming desire to kiss”. Thank you Saran for hosting this challenge and allowing me to participate!

Disclaimer: I don’t own Bucky Barnes. Unfortunately he is a fictional character and therefore is property of Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. Sebastian Stan’s face belongs to himself. The plot is my own creation.

My masterlist

He is greeted at the threshold by the voices of John, Paul, George and Ringo. 

The Beatles were new to him - like online shopping and Nespresso machines. Maybe, if he’d gone home after ‘45, he’d have dragged Steve to one of their concerts or seen them at Ed Sullivan’s show. And his grandchildren would gawk at him and tell him how lucky he was to have seen the Beatles together.

Maybe.

He couldn’t help it sometimes - how his mind involuntarily drew intricate scenarios of “what ifs” and possibilities. Bucky supposed it was his curse for having lived so long and so hard. His atonement was the constant back and forth of then and now, dealing with the aftermath of everything he missed.

But at least he didn’t kill John Lennon.

The record player was a gift for his 102nd birthday. It resembled very little the one he had back home - his 1940s home. It was sleek, light and state-of-the-art, with that classic vintage look that people liked their electronics to have even if they were far from vintage. 

You’d been so nervous when you gave it to him you couldn’t even wait for the sun to be high in the sky and your lover to be out of the bed. Nervous hands twisted the duvet as Bucky opened the package, careful not to ruin the glitter wrapping paper. He loved it, even if it took him a while to learn how to use the record player. But, once he did, it made way for your favorite tradition: spring saturdays at the flea market, the one in DUMBO or maybe in Williamsburg, looking for old records.

The Beatles, the Stones, Led Zeppelin, Elvis Presley, The Doors, Michael Jackson, Bruce Springsteen, Marvin Gaye and Queen to more recent acts: Nirvana, Guns and Roses, Pearl Jam, the pop groups from the early 2000’s and performers like Bruno Mars and Beyoncé.

Any decade, any rhythm - Bucky Barnes liked music. And you indulged him in his new-found passion, adding soundtrack to the most unexpected moments of his day and being his partner whenever he fancied a dance.

Like now. He found you in the kitchen counter, hips moving slowly as you chopped carrots for dinner.

“Hold me tight / And tell me I’m the only one / And then I might / Never be theAAAAAH” you yelled, half a scream, half a laugh when Bucky surprised you by tickling your sides.

“Holy shit, Barnes! I have a knife on my hands. I could’ve cut myself!” you exclaimed while Bucky doubled over with laughter. 

You threw the knife on the sink, fake pouting, as Bucky came over to you, laugh forgotten. He was all saunter and swagger now, hands reaching out to hold you hips.

“That would teach you not to make dinner while shaking this ass” as to qualify his point, he landed a sharp smack on your left butt cheek, causing you to jump. 

You narrowed your eyes, snark remark at the tip of your tongue when you noticed it.

Blue.

Light blue. Almost teal, but not quite, evenly spread across the expanse of his chest and arms. Blue like his eyes, like the sky on a summer day, like a perfect Caribbean sea.

Beautiful blue.

“Is that… new?” was all you could muster while your gaze roamed the cotton. Your hands left their resting place on the nape of his neck and slid down, as if they could grasp the magnificent color and cradle it.

“Yeah” Bucky said, confused by your reaction. “I bought it last week.”

Such a simple explanation for such a magnificent happenstance. You could picture him: self-conscious and a little overwhelmed as he browsed some fast-fashion looking for simple pieces that didn’t stand out much. Bucky stuck to the classic blacks, whites and grays. Their simplicity made him feel safe and your boyfriend’s comfort would always come before any fashion trend.

Oftentimes a navy color would make an appearance and the way it complimented his eyes made your heart speed up. But this blue... This blue was different. You couldn’t place what was so special about it – was it the shade? An almost exact match to his irises? Was it the contrast of índigo fabric and golden-black forearms?

Bucky watched with raised eyebrows and a confused frown as the tips of your fingers carefully roamed the expanse of his torso, as if you were touching a valuable art piece instead of a US$ 9.99 henley from H&M.

“You okay, doll?” he asked. 

“Yeah” you gawked. “I’m perfect, actually.”

Bucky liked to think he knew you better than he knew himself – your spontaneity, creativity and enthusiasm over the smallest things. Life with you was never dull: it was a collection of happy moments that pieced his broken soul back together. Bucky believed he was used to the spur-of-the-moment midnight walks or the impromptu dance offs in the kitchen, but apparently he wasn’t.

Not when you grabbed him by the collar of the blue henley and kissed him.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss, like the sweet pecks you usually showered him with when he arrived home.  And it wasn’t a violent kiss, like the ones he usually took from you, breath out of breath, in the sacred intimacy of your bedroom.

This kiss was urgent and needy, yet full of the same love he felt every time your mouth reached for his. It tasted like honey on his tongue and sounded like a symphony made of the tiny moans that escaped you when he pulled on your bottom lip with his teeth.

The hand on Bucky's collar moved to his hair. The silky soft brown strands were much shorter, but still long enough to grab them, making him to groan. You felt light-headed, your lungs burning for air and your calves worn out from the effort of standing on your tiptoes, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. The only thing that mattered was him and that blue shirt.

“What was that for?” Bucky whispered when you manage to disentangle yourself from him. Your breath was coming in short, uneven gasps that teased him to no end. His gaze involuntarily lowered from your flushed cheeks to your chest, and the rapid way it rose and fell made him uncomfortable in his pants.

“Nothing" you replied. “You just look really good.”

Bucky laughed - a deep, delicious sound deep from his stomach, echoing at the walls of your heart. You swore you could live in the crinkles of his eyes because Heaven couldn’t compare to this world whenever Bucky Barnes laughed.

Especially if he was wearing that blue henley.

Bucky’s laugh turned into a smirk when he tightened his hold on your hips - one hand was warm and the other a little colder, just the way you liked it and how you wanted it to be forever. Swiftly, he rose you on the counter and moved to stand between your legs. The familiarity and domesticity of it didn’t make it any less thrilling. On the contrary, knowing this love was a constant rather than a possibility caused the butterflies to flutter harder in the pit of your belly. 

His vibranium hand squeezed you thigh before hooking your leg around his waist. The friction of your sweatpants with his jeans was the torturous prelude before the chorus. Bucky grunted in your ear, low and deep and warm as his breath hit the shell of your ear, right before he sucked it.

Oh.

Your hand was twisted in the blue fabric, unsure if you wanted to rip if off him or be it - to hug him and envelop him so perfectly and never let him go. Your embrace was suffocating. A tangle of arms, legs and lips dancing to their own song, writing notes on your skin. It was so easy to get lost in him. To drown in the blissful feel of Bucky’s touch and ignore the revolving world around you

A loud noise startled you, pulling you both apart. Bucky quickly turned to the crash, shielding your body with his. There, in the corner of the living room, the record player - now silent - was on the floor. Standing above the wreckage, nonchalantly licking a white paw, was Alpine.

You sighed.

“Did you say hello to her when you arrived?"

“Nope” Bucky said, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. He chuckled.

You absentmindedly dragged your nails across the nape of his neck and he purred, much like his feline counterpart when he greeted her favorite human.

“That record player was so expensive” you grumbled, face tucked in the blissful blue henley. Damn Alpine for ruining the plans you had for that shirt.

“I know. I’ll buy you a new one.”

“It’s yours, actually.”

“You know what else is mine?”

“Huh?”

“You are.”

You looked up to find him grinning, mischief on the corner of his lips and a twinkle in his gaze. You barely had time to squeal when Bucky lifted you from the counter and over his shoulder and moved to the bedroom, making sure to shut the door. 

“What about Alpine? She’ll destroy the apartment” you asked, body bouncing on the mattress. 

Bucky shrugged then tugged on his henley, tossing the blue to the floor.

Yeah. He looked much better without it.

“It’ll be worth it.”

General taglist: @ivoryhazlewood​ @youclickedthislink​ 

[akvtsuki-ari]

A Study In Body Language | ii. tidal separations

Warnings: depictions of opioid withdrawal/drug use (there's a mention of needles), general warnings for drug addiction and arguing. 

Length: 4.4k 

Authors Note: After abandoning this fic for like? a year? I’m back at it. I really love this concept a lot and I think the end result will be good so please stick with me and read it! Promise it’ll be good <33

Plot Summary: Spencer takes time off and you’re worried about what the future holds. Maybe it’s moral obligation that leads you to take care of Reid as he works through his vices, but maybe there's something more to it. You can’t say for sure. 

Chapter 1 

Story Preface:  In the altruistic language of foreign tongue, and the flower lettering of love stories, it's important to remember the context. In which Spencer Reid and you will fall in love under the circumstantial evidence that the two of you exchange in the language that is physical, no symbolism or hidden messages but instead an abysmal means to end to find each other in places you never expect. In the image of storytelling, this is a Case Study In Body Language, and all of it's idealist beliefs and intentions. 

_______________

Midnight was detrimental to the human mind. The evidence of that was concise in the car ride between you and Dr. Spencer Reid. The space between tangible with tension and bubbling, simmering anger. 

Your hands were fastened around the steering wheel, knuckles pale white. Spencer was sitting with his knees away from you - teeth gritted together in a symphony of misplaced emotions and projection. The silence was deafening - both of you looking at anything but the other person with angry and nonsensical confusion. The wind was blurring your eyesight as you drove down the highway to Spencer's apartment, an uncomplicated endeavor that suddenly had some great stakes to it that neither of you could prepare for. Every detail was carefully placed in order to cause the most destruction. The sound of the bottles in the back clicking together, the silence of the entire city at 3am you and Spencers generally disheveled appearance. All things that seem culminated together to create a perfect disaster - it was almost poetic. 

Spencer cleared his throat, swallowing his pride as he turned his head to look at you. You were entirely still - nothing was moving except the fact he could see your toes curling in your shoes. It was a rapid and anxious movement, a way for the emotion to escape you while not showing anything else. Your jaw was forcibly still like you were telling yourself to keep it still. You were, gritted teeth and fists just begging to pound on Spencer's chest and knock some fucking sense into him. 

Spencer folds first, the silence begging to cut your tightrope friendship entirely. This outcome was beyond your words and description - neither unexpected or catastrophic, but rather heavy. A heavyweight on the both of your shoulders, tied to each other in social contract. Was it respect that kept your hands away from your phone the second you saw? Was it friendship? Or was it something bigger, much more vast than either of you that was bordering indescribable. The silence begged many questions, but most of all it begged to broken. You and Spencer forced to put the pieces together. 

“Y/N, listen,” his voice was calm - it was clear this speech was well-practiced and it pissed you off further. You shut your eyes with exasperation, as your tongue swipes the back of your teeth, physically trying to hold it back from calling him a fucking dumbass. You still might, but a selfish part of you was urged to just wait and hear his explanation. 

“I’m fine - but please don’t tell the team, I don’t need them worrying about me,” Spencer rushed the words as if they were being beaten out of him. You laugh angrily and swerve your car into a parking lot on the next turn. Spencer looks at you curiously as you stop in - opening his mouth to speak, words replaced quickly with the sound of your voice. 

“Oh, are you fucking kidding me? Are you genuinely fucking serious?,” your voice is beyond angry. Spencer's defense raises as he realizes the situation - as both of you play the other side of the court. 

“I seriously cannot believe you - I knew you were a selfish prick, but fucking seriously? Jesus Christ, Spencer what do you think happens now?,” your voice borders a scream as you look at him, eyes blurry, fingers shaking. You want to hit him, punch him, anything to knock him to his sense but you don’t, the urge pulsating through your every nerve. 

“What are you talking about? You were the one following me but this has nothing to fucking do with you! You’re supposed to just leave this alone, and I’m asking you a favor - what is complicated about that? This doesn’t concern you, so stay out of it!,” His voice is laced with dishonesty, hidden by anger but his selfishness prompts your frustration further. You want to correct him, to get it through his thick skull that this is bigger than him and you - that this has to do with the team and people he cares for but you’re too frustrated. 

“I seriously can’t fucking believe you and to be honest, I cannot deal with having this conversation with someone so fucking stupid - I’m throwing away your stash and dropping you off at home - I’ll deal with you tomorrow,” you say exasperated. You were sick for fucksake, nose still dripping and voice already hoarse from before. Too many demons in your own life for you to fight his at 3am. Not tonight anyway. 

“No, you can’t throw it away,” his voice nearly reads as a plea but you shoot him a look - one so sharp you suspect if you acted on that expression, he’d knocked out with a bruise on him.

The rest of the car ride passes in total silence, no gritting of teeth or anger left, all replaced with different kinds of exhaustion. Different kinds of frustration creating this chokehold on both of you as the long night become darker by nature - maybe as a show and tell for the plays that both of you are forced to make. To look into another's darkness without warning is a scary place to be, Both of you find yourself to explore together - the consequences were still unclear. 

You dropped Spencer off at his apartment, and you drive home. Comforted by the solitude but unable to focus on anything but the road without feeling fear stir in your chest. The feeling wasn’t out of place but it wasn’t what you were expecting. 

You feel your throat tightening as you walk into your own apartment, and walk into your kitchen - putting on coffee and rubbing your face with exasperation. The sleeplessness is replaced with jittery caffeination as you watch the sunrise through the window of your apartment. The darkness still seems to wane - but maybe that was the exhaustion talking.

__ 

Work called in like expecting but the morning lacked any feeling of normalcy expected. You were less angry now, surely. Everything was left feeling sticky in a sense - a long term discomfort surrounding everything you did, and the only thing that would relieve it would be seeing Spencer. After the anger subsided you just hoped he didn’t do anything stupid, but you weren’t close enough for the two of you to just talk or for you to text him. So you spent the whole night looking at lots of nothing while your mind went a hundred different places trying to figure out how you got here. 

Walking into the BAU was helpful - it was grounding, a well-needed kind of sanity. You were one of the few people on earth that was comforted by a place many would consider dark, but it was home. A home with people to hold you still, and love to make you weep, something you didn’t normally experience. Something you’d never really experienced before, anyways. 

Emily is the first to greet you, looking at you intently before laughing - partly concerned. You smile at her weakly, sending her a wave. 

“Rough night?,” she asks lightly, you laugh playfully and nod. She looks at you fondly, pushing her hair behind her ears.

“Being sick is quite disruptive to sleep apparently,” you remark with sarcasm. She nods and smiles sympathetically. 

“We don’t have a case today, Hotch might agree to let you stay home another day,” she comments. You shake your head. 

“Still gotta catch up on paperwork,” you say sighing. She nods again and theres a few seconds of comfortable silence. 

“Hey, Emily - do you know where Spence is?,” you ask carefully. She shoots you a curious look but answers your question. 

“He called Hotch last night and took some time off, said it was something to do with his mom. Haven’t spoken to him since yesterday,” she says, recalling that very conversation. 

Something in you drops, as you sit up straight. Emily looks at you confused, but you don't have any clue on how to explain so you don’t. Instead, you stand up and look for Hotch whose in his office.

“On second thought, I think I’m gonna go ask Hotch to take another day,” you say, voice hoarse. Emily just nods at you, dazed in her own right.

“Thanks, Em, see you soon,” you say as you rush over to Hotch’s office. He looks at you as you pop the door open, and greet him. You swallow thickly, your words seeming to be stuck to your throat as you speak them - unable to do anything but rush. Your every movement and expression feel that way - like time is moving too fast and too slow all at once. 

Hotch looks at you concerned, sensing your urgency as you walk in and close the door behind you. 

“Hey Hotch, can I talk to you?,” you repeat the question meekly. 

“Of course, Y/N,” he says to you, brows furrowed tightly with worry. 

“I wanted to request some time off, something is going on back home and - ,” your voice sounds like its going to break, so Hotch stops you. 

“Take as much time as you need, we’ll be here when things settle,” He speaks knowingly, the only one on the whole team who does know anything about it. It wasn’t technically a lie either, but it was happenstance that you were taking time off for it. 

“Thanks, Hotch,” you reply softly. He nods at you and you’re on your way out of the door. No one else is in, and Emily isn’t in sight so you slip away entirely undetected. 

The car ride to Spencer's house makes your skin itch. You can’t get dark thoughts out of your head, struggling to drive there in the first place. Worry blossoms in your chest and every stoplight seems to stimulate the feeling. Every moment that you aren’t sure is another moment Spencer could be doing something detrimental and you can’t have that guilt resting in you. 

You rush up his apartment stairs, and knock on the door. Silence. You shake yourself, trying to regain some balance before you knock again - voice small as your call to Spencer on the other side. 

“Are you okay?, Spencer,” your voice echoes in the empty hallways - seeming to loom over both of you. Every movement you make is calculated, and precise. 

Spencer lays against the other side of the door, slumped up against it with exhaustion. He knows he’s experienced minor withdrawals, he hasn’t gotten high in days and its working him heavily. His skin is hot against his clothes, eyes dilated, breathing through his mouth as he tried his best to stay still and relax. Pain shoots within his muscles as he fixates himself on anything, anything to keep him afloat. He hears your voice and winces. 

“I’m fine, Y/N, leave me alone,” he croaks out. You sigh with relief but know you can’t leave. 

“Just open the door, Spencer,” you say sighing. He feels a shiver run down his spine and shakes his head as if you can see him. 

“This has nothing to do with you, Y/N. I don’t understand what you’re here for in the first place,  you’re not gonna be some hero for finding this out. I gotta say I am impressed that you figured it out first though, I always figured you were kinda incompetent,” his breathing is heavy, taking an edge of his words. It stings to hear since you know he still means them but you don’t have the energy to complain. You sit down, back against his door and sigh. 

“You really are an absolute dickhead,” you say more to yourself than anyone else, growing frustrated. You rub your face in your heads, your legs up to your chest and you sigh aloud - annoyed. 

“Just leave me alone already,” his words hold sincerity in them. He sincerely doesn’t like you, and neither do you - but the two of you knew that already - before your relationship was purely political but it was forced to go deeper than that. This feeling was a cross between pure annoyance and frustration - you didn’t know someone's existence could be so frustrating but you found yourself here. 

“What do you want Spencer? Do you want some emotional speech about how you shouldn’t do this, and how you’re stronger than this? Well, fuck you - you’re not getting that out of me. I’m not fucking JJ, or Penelope, or anyone else for that matter. To be honest, I don’t give a single shit about your life outside of work and I’ve always planned on keeping that way. This situation, my presence here - we lie in this bed together. I’m not JJ, I’m not gonna pretend to be here out of some deep-rooted platonic love. We’re co-workers, and I’m a decent fucking person so I’m not gonna let you sit here and rot-away. Why? Because JJ, Derek, Emily, Penelope, and Hotch all care for you and I care about them. I’m not gonna let you ruin yourself and be a selfish prick  - so open the fucking door and let me help so you can actually get better. After that, I’ll keep your dirty little secret,” 

Your speech is given unwavering, and every word you said held a specific weight. You were right, and that was ultimately the problem. You weren’t close to Spencer, but you were close to the team. He knew you were doing this because you had too, solely out of moral obligation - he knew that you understood that something was objectively wrong. And maybe that was the problem - none of this was personal to you. You were actually just trying to help because you knew he needed it - he had no intrusive thoughts about something so objective. He sighs heavily, letting tears escape him. Weakly, he stands up and opens the door slightly. 

You walk into Spencer's apartment and scan the room. It’s a mess, books stacked up untidily along with take-out boxes and plastic water-bottle littering random areas. Fresh needles sat on the edge of his desk, and you winced at their presence - the whole thing too familiar. Spencer sitting on the couch dazed off. You know immediately. 

“Withdrawal,” you mumble to yourself. He looks at you confused. 

“How?,” 

“Not important. How many days has it been since you showered?” you ask. He can’t seem to remember and you sigh. 

“When was the last time you ate?,” you ask again. He shuts his eyes, lids twitching before he responds. 

“Last night,” he says again. You check his temperature and his body is hot. You sigh. 

“How long can you be alone for?,” you ask. He shakes his head, rubbing his face. 

“An hour, at most,” he admits to you quietly. You sigh, standing up and giving him a tight hug. It’s unexpected, and not something he was used to but the comfort was so... comforting he couldn’t refuse. You feel hot tears land onto your abdomen as you sigh, rubbing Spencer's back with understanding. 

“Leave the door unlocked in case you fall asleep, I’ll be back in half an hour. I’m gonna put on a nature documentary, so just watch that and just try to focus on it. When I come back, tell me something you didn't know already or correct something that was wrong - that’s your homework for the next half-hour, okay?” you say softly. Your tone of voice was warm, and knowing. This process seemed familiar to you but Spencer decides against saying anything. 

You put on some animal planet on your laptop, and go off on your way, letting Spencer watch and focus intently. He finds his eyes shutting as time passes, and falls asleep. 

__ 

Spencer wakes up to the sound of pots and pans in his kitchen. He doesn’t think he’s ever used his kitchen so he’s startled at first. He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand as he walks into his kitchen to see you. You’re wearing an apron and bandanna, a long shirt and leggings. He’s never seen you like this, watching with intent as you fidget with the knobs on his oven. The smell of pasta and garlic hit him with ferocity and his stomach grumbles. You startled by his presence and turn to look at him. He finds himself overwhelmed and slips out a quiet hello. 

“Hey, Spencer. How’d you sleep?,” you ask the question casually. He blinks again and looks at you. 

“Well,” his response is dry. You start washing dishes in the kitchen sink as the oven turns off and Spencer finds himself walking closer to the island in the middle of it. He takes a seat, seeing fresh fruit and a glass of water poured out for him. 

“They had some strawberries on sale, so I cut them up for you. Vitamin C is good for you right now, and you need to eat anyways - so have some,” you explain, mindlessly washing away. You shake your head at how many seem to be in the sink,  probably a lot of weeks of build-up. It makes you wonder if anyone comes by. 

“Why’re you doing this,” he asks before he can stop himself. He flinches at the sound of his voice, gravelly and exhausted. You know the questions coming, but you can’t give him a good answer yet. You figure it’s worth a shot to try. 

“Recovery is a slow thing. The small things are what can be the most overwhelming when you’re trying to get better and I want you to get better” you say as honestly as possible. 

“But why?” he asks again. Not urgent, just curious. You turn the water off and look at him 

“It’s a story for when I know you a little better Spence,”

The answer seems to satisfy him, as he looks down. 

His voice is barely a whisper as he looks at you, watching you bend down and pull out a tray of lasagna. He watches you so carefully, he finds his heart, stirring - unsure of why. He smiles, a very small, but genuine smile as you place the lasagna on the counter. You look to him and give him a tight-lipped smile back. 

“It’ll be a minute before this cools, so I suggest you take a shower, or bath or something,” you suggest. Spencer winces, the thought of being alone in the bathroom making his skin crawl. He’s brain wracks itself with the idea of being alone again, that loneliness is what got him here in the first place and to be anywhere but there is so relieving. His eyes are hollow when he thinks about it. You see his expression and yours softens. 

“I know it’s tough if you want I can massage your head with shampoo or something before you go in - make it a little less daunting. My little cousin likes it because he’s scared of the sound the shower makes, so it might help,” you explain. Spencer blushes, but the idea isn’t all that bad. A little embarrassing but it’d be nice. Plus his head hurts, so it’s not all that bad of an idea. He scratches the back of his neck and nods. 

“Thank you,” his voice is barely above a whisper. You look at Spencer tenderly, and you sit down at the island next to him. He turns his body, neck stretching as he looks at you exhausted. 

“You’re gonna be fine, Spencer. It’s not gonna be easy because this type of thing, it just seems to follow you. It’ll feel like it’s everywhere at first, but it isn’t. Keep your head up, if not for you - for the people who need you like Diana and the team,” you explained gently. Spencer and you weren’t ever very close but his mother loved you. Even if she couldn’t remember you, she always had a pleasant reaction to your name when she was feeling okay. She had met you when Spencer brought her into the BAU for a case. 

Spencer's eyes shift their focus onto you and for the first time in his life, his reaction to you wasn’t so unpleasant. It was still strained, still difficult and unruly - but different. It was humanizing to see you like that. He nods at you, dazed. You give him an awkward smile. 

“C’mon, let's get you cleaned up,” you say, softly. Spencer blushes as he leads you to the bathroom

_

“I’m starting to realize, I don’t actually know anything about you,” Spencer muses softly. Your fingers are tucked away in his curls, white bubbles of foam and shampoo between them as you work Spencer scalp. His hair was greasy, but that's probably because he used that terrible 4-in-1 stuff before. You figured you’d be there for a while anyway, so you ended up using your own products. Disgusted at the fact he was a grown man and still used 4-in-1. Who does that? 

“I don’t really talk a lot about what I do outside of work,” you reply casually. You scratch a part of Spencer scalp and watch his neck crane in delight like he was a small dog. You stifle your laughter. 

“What do you do then?” Spencer asks. 

“I volunteer with kids, mostly. I help them learn to read at the library nearby, you know - read with them and help them pick out new stories to learn together,” you say sincerely. Spencer is softened by your words. 

“That's really nice,” Spencer comments. You laugh. 

“I guess so. It’s just something I do, you know?  Kids are wonderful, they have so much wonder about life. It’s all sincere, too. It’s more fun to read with people whose imaginations are so big, seeing them make up their own world,” you say affectionately. Spencer nods in agreement. 

“Yeah,” 

There's a moment of comfortable silence before Spencer finds himself curious again. 

“What else do you do in your spare time?,” 

“I try to volunteer as much as I can, just in general. Soup kitchens, animal shelters, that kind of thing. If I’m taking some personal time, I cook a lot. I’ll invite some people over and have a small dinner party. I’d invite the BAU sometime but that's kinda Rossi’s thing so I wouldn’t wanna intrude,” you say softly. Spencer notes that none of those things are really all that personal. 

“Those are all things you do for other people, though. What do you do for you?,” Spencer asks again. You feel something stir in you at the question, and you shift. You become a little suddenly aware at the fact that Spencer's head is between your thighs but you can’t say anything about it. 

“I listen to music a lot. I cross-stitch sometimes but that makes me sound super old. I bake a lot too, loaves of bread and bagels and sometimes desserts but I don’t have much of a sweet tooth. I really enjoy my me-time so I have very long-winded self-care routines that I do to loosen up and feel pampered. It’s nice,” you say shyly. You’re not used to the question, about what you do for you. It feels vain to answer. Spencer seems intrigued by that. 

“Self-care routine?,” Spencer eggs on. You chuckle at his curiosity. 

“Skincare, self-pampering, shit like that. Most women have like 3 different versions and they vary based on how much time they have. I’m a working woman, so I have a version for cases and a version for weekends alone and a version for going out. I can’t speak for guys here, so I won’t but yeah,”

“You know, it’s been proven time and time again that it’s majorly beneficial for people of any gender to take time off to attend to personal needs. It’s shown major benefits in overall happiness, mood, and overall attitude,” Spencer repeats back. You give a small smile, it finally feels more like Spencer. 

“Take your own advice, genius,” you comment back sarcastically. Spencer laughs, leaning into your fingers without much thought. He’s visibly more comfortable than he was before. It makes you comfortable too. 

“Alright, you feeling okay to go shower, kid?,” you ask Spencer. He does, but he find himself a little disappointed. The nickname bounces around his head for a moment before he laughs again. His voice is light. 

“Yeah, yeah I think I’m okay. Thank you,” He stands up and so do you, and the two of you look at each other for what feels like a few seconds too long. You look at him, the old t-shirt he’s in, and his pajama pants and you can’t help the way your heart bangs against the cage of your chest. It could’ve been a lot of things, maybe the fluorescent lightning or the way that your hands were covered in shampoo, or the way Spencer stood a little slumped and sleepy. You didn’t want to kiss him. You were just compelled to give him a break, and maybe that was worse. Feeling compelled to give someone empathy even though a small part of you always felt like they were a complete asshole. Feeling moved by someone's vulnerability so much you almost give them a pass, yes certainly that was more dangerous. 

You don’t say anything, you just give Spencer a smile and a pat on his chest. He hates the way he takes notice of the feeling. 

“I’m gonna set up dinner, and we can watch Harry Potter,”  It was the one thing you two had in common before all this. He nods. 

“Okay, yeah, that works. Thanks,” he says again more softly. He wants to say more, and in a way so do you but neither of you does. You wash your hands of the shampoo and close the door behind you. Your eyes flutter closed for a moment as you listen to the water run and think to yourself. It was by pure circumstance that you ended up here, really. The way every move had made thus far, though it felt so careful feels beyond your control. You weren’t alone for the first time in a long time and this feeling keeps weighing on you. More dangerous than love is empathy. Empathy for someone so stupid and selfish, it made you feel strange. Yet it was there. Yet, you were there. 

Spencer understood the feeling. Guardian Angel, the term bounced around in Spencer's mind as he showered. The feeling of your fingers still on his mind. Not alone, for the first time in too long. Strange is such a phenomenon. 

__ taglist: @cynbx​ @zephyr-studiesjp​ @reid-187​ @louistwinslover​ @skrrrrrrrrrrt​

[thiswreckageivebecome]

As Long As It Takes (”The Sign?” - Part 22) (Sebastian Stan x reader)

Description: “I’ll wait for as long as it takes, as long as I get you at the end" You meet Sebastian Stan on the street in New York. What starts off as a fan encounter stretches to an unexpected coffee date and before long you’re caught up in a whirlwind and left with an internal struggle of what to choose.

Word Count: 3975

Warnings: Minor language. Angst. Fluff.

Author’s note: Thank you for sticking it out with me. Hope you enjoy! I’d love to hear what you think!

The next morning you bid Georgeta and Anthony goodbye as you got ready to get into the vehicle to head back to the city. Sebastian drove and not much conversation passed between the two of you for a little while. You didn't attempt to plug in your music, you had enough going on in your mind, and you knew if you put your music on, it'd be sad and you didn't want to hurt him more. Instead, you stared out the window, nothing really registering in your view.

After about half of the trip had been made, your body registered the vehicle lowing in preparation to stop. You looked forward and then to Sebastian. He knew you had not been paying attention to anything but your own thoughts so he explained, "just stopping for gas. Would you like anything from inside?"

You gave him a small smile, "No, thank you, though." You paused and then tried to put more effort forth to make conversation. "Would you like anything? I can go in and grab it while you get gas or vice versa."

He knew you were trying and his smile was warmer than it had been last night. "I'm good. Thank you for offe-" he started coughing, cutting off his words. His cough was coming from deeper within his chest. A thought occurred to you. You jumped out of the vehicle when it came to a stop. When you got back, Seb was already finished and ready to go. When you got in, you handed him a bottle of water. He looked at you confused. You then took a bottle out of the bag from inside and shook four pills into your hand.

"I have no idea why I didn't think about this earlier. I mean, I am the Vitamin C Queen for heaven's sake. Here, take these. You do not need to get sick...well sicker. Don't you have some Emergen-C at your place?"

"Yeh, I think I have some stashed somewhere."

"Good. Just take this, for now, to go ahead and start fighting it. Your cough is worse than it was last night." He popped the pills in, threw his head back, and took a swig of water to wash them down. You could tell he didn't want you to stop talking to him.

"So what would you like to do when we get back?" You thought for a moment before shrugging. "Oh, c'mon there's got to be something."

"Not particularly, no. What about you?" He appeared to think for a moment.

"I want to go shopping."

"Really," you couldn't help but smile.

"Yep. I hear the weather's going to be a little warmer over the next few days."

"Seb...we're driving through snow."

"Maybe here."

"Seb. It's still snowing in the city. I checked this morning."

"Right." You just continued to look at him, utterly baffled. "It might be snowing here...but other places, it isn't," he said. You waited for further explanation, but you were beginning to understand. "I may or may not have another present for you." Your lips quirked up.

"Seeba. How are there more presents left!?" He shrugged his shoulders, feigning innocence.

"Just are."

"So what is it exactly?"

"A trip. To a place."

"Place like?"

"That's a surprise." You rolled your eyes in response.

"Well, how much warmer are we talking? I didn't exactly come prepared for like...equator weather."

"Not quite that warm. If you brought light layers, you might be okay, but if all you brought was heavy stuff, we definitely need to shop."

"I only brought heavy because as far as I knew, I'd be surrounded by snow the entire trip," you couldn't help but laugh quietly. This reaction brought a bigger smile to his face.

"I would have told you, but a-it'd spoil the surprise and b- it would've eliminated the chance for me to take you shopping."

"You know I pretty much hate shopping."

"But you like it better with me, right? And when it's with my card," he teased. You mocked disbelief.

"How dare you." He only smirked and shrugged in your direction. It wasn't much longer before you saw the familiar streets near the apartment. He pulled into the garage and you both grabbed your things and headed upstairs. As per usual, Chloe greeted you at the door, happy as could be. Sebastian took the bags from you and took them to the bedroom while you played with Chloe.

When he came back he went to the coffee maker and started running some coffee for you both, but still fully dressed. He took out two to-go cups. You watched him in between Chloe's runs to grab the toy you'd thrown. He put sweetener in the cups then just enough coffee to cover it, stirred both, then poured coffee just high enough so that the cup wouldn't overflow when adding the creamer.

"You've watched me make coffee too many times." He turned just enough to acknowledge your words and smirked. "So you're making two to go cups because...you're out of clean mugs?"

"No, I'm making to go cups" he began and he screwed the lids on one by one, "because we've got to go shopping, but I want you, well, both of us, to have something warm in our system. That and the fact that I'm a little extra tired from driving."

"We have to go shopping now?" Typically, you would have said this pretending to whine, but you didn't feel it was the most appropriate based off of everything that had passed between the two of you during the past 72 hours.

"If we're going to catch our flight." You literally shook your head a little and pulled yourself away from him as though he had gotten directly in your face to say this.

"Our flight is today," you solicited apprehensively.

"At 9 tonight, yes." You couldn't do anything but stare at him, disbelief shading your features. He wouldn't look at you, but you could sense him smiling. A large part of you wanted to ask where you were going, just straight out, but you decided not to...not just yet, anyway.

"I do want to change clothes if you don't mind. I won't be long, especially as we're in a crunch for time." He nodded and moved the cups to the island and knelt down to play with Chloe in the meantime. Once you were finished, you walked back out and the two of you grabbed the coffee and headed downstairs. After reaching the street, you headed for Fifth Avenue. While the most popular stores on the well-known street were not typically the places you would shop, you went in a few here and there for Seb's sake. He insisted on putting a fashion show on for you in each shop. Mostly he picked dad clothes and terrible combinations, all the while threatening to buy them to make you laugh. It worked, your sides were aching as you walked out of each store, and it almost felt like things were back to normal. You liked feeling like that. You thought back to the wise saying you learned in 2009. If you get mad or sad, you'll miss that moment of happiness. You pushed all the negative thoughts swirling in your mind and heart away so that you could enjoy the happiness. As you walked out of Bergdorf's, you leaned into Sebastian's side, a little harder than you meant, almost pushing him into an oncoming stranger.

"Shi- sorry. I didn't mean for that to happen," you apologized. He eyed you trying to figure out if you were lying, but he recognized immediately that you weren't. He realized you were just trying to be close to him. He smiled at you softly, gently pulling you close.

"I love you, Sebastian," you practically whispered. He stopped walking and pulled you to face him. He stared at you for a moment, searching your eyes, finding the sad thoughts and feelings you had pushed away just moments earlier.

"(Y/n), I love you...more than I could ever have thought possible." He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your forehead, then your nose. He grasped your chin gingerly and leaned close to your lips, lifting your head, but waited for you to lean into the kiss. You hesitated but remembered the saying. You practically jolted forward, kissing him a little harder than you meant, in the process teeth hit teeth causing you both to pull away in trivial pain.

"Sorry...again," you couldn't help but giggle. He pulled you close, placing his forehead against yours and gazed into your eyes.

"Are we okay," he asked breathlessly. His eyes were glassy but not enough to tell if they were tears of emotion or due to the chill in the air. You couldn't answer, you could only stare back, your breath and any words that might have come to mind stuck in your throat. You shifted your eyes to the ground, so he slumped down to meet them. He pulled you to the side of the sidewalk nearest the building. He spoke quietly.

"I can't lie. The concern crossed my mind about giving you that present that way. The coupon. I did worry for a short bit if...if you'd think it was, well ...a ring." He stopped speaking and you could swear you heard him gulp nervously amidst the busy and noisy Manhattan streets. You forgot how to breathe hearing him say these things and not knowing where it was going seemed to be impaling your lungs centimeter by centimeter. You could tell he was selecting his next words very carefully before he took a deep breath and blew it out slowly as he spoke. "I'm sorry to have gotten your...hopes...or nerves...or whatever...up like that. I should have paid closer attention to that voice telling me that was the wrong way to give that gift." He saw the sadness drown your features and your face began to turn pink from attempting your best not to burst into tears right there. He quickly grabbed your hand in one hand and chin in the other. "I'm not saying it'll never happen...that just...it wasn't...isn't the right time." You didn't know which was worse, feeling like he was saying it wouldn't ever happen or saying it could but not right now. Either way, his attempt to make you happier and more content with him did anything but. It made things worse than before.

"Seb....I think I want to go...home." He took a quick pause, a little jarred by this response.

"Uhm, okay...yeh, I mean we can shop when we get there."

"No, I want to go home...to North Carolina." Now he truly was taken aback. He couldn't think of any response other than an almost silent, "okay." You turned and began walking slowly in the direction of his apartment. You could feel him following a few steps behind, silently. He didn't rush you and you took your time. When you reached the apartment neither of you said anything. Sebastian unlocked the door and you rubbed Chloe on the head, greeting her with a quiet "hello, Chloe." She immediately sensed something was wrong and quieted down quickly. You headed for the bedroom to pack your things and see if you could bump your flight up. Sebastian didn't follow you. He gave you some space, probably because he was in a bit of shock. You were sitting on the bed staring at the bad news on your phone when he walked in. You didn't acknowledge his presence, not to be rude, but simply because it hurt to look at him. He stood awkwardly by the bed and finally sat down across from you at the foot.

"I feel like this is a dumb question, but is everything okay? Like with whatever is going on on your phone right now?" You huffed a little.

"No, actually, it's not. I can't bump my flight. There are no flights available until I was already scheduled to fly back." Silence lingered in the air.

"Maybe that's a sign," he suggested as a question, practically silent. Your sadness and frustration grew to anger at lightning speeds. You practically threw your phone on the bed.

"What's it a sign of, Sebastian? Huh? Is it supposed to be a sign that all hope is lost? Is it supposed to be a sign that any plans I tried to make, or hell, tried not to make will never happen? Is it a sign that I, much like this relationship, am going nowhere? Please, tell me what the sign is!" You were on your feet pacing by this point. You could practically feel the steam billowing out of your ears and the hot, frustrated tears stinging your eyes. He was floored by your reaction and words. He didn't want to fight with you. He didn't want to argue. That was clear when he quietly said.

"Well, no, I actually meant it as a sign that you shouldn't go home and we should still go to the surprise destination as planned..."

You didn't really want to fight either, but if this was the beginning of the end, you couldn't help but want it to just go ahead and end. You didn't see the sense in him keeping you hanging on just to make things harder when the ax was dropped. You dropped to the floor, involuntary waves of tears and sobs roaring up from the pit of your very being. You knew Sebastian didn't know what to do. He sat a minute without approaching you, but he could only hold still for so long. After that moment, which seemed like forever, he sat down in front of you and practically pulled you into his lap like a small child. Despite the fear of what the future held, you wrapped your arms around his neck and shoved your face into his neck and chest and bawled. That place was what felt like home. After your sobs had turned to barely whimpers and mostly sniffles, he spoke.

"(Y/n), I'll never make you do anything you don't want to do, so if you really don't want to go, we won't and I'll drive you back to North Carolina if you'd really like...but I'm begging you to please, just wait out going back for a few more days. Please come with me. I really think you'll be pleased with where I've planned to go." You didn't have the strength to say no, so you simply nodded just enough so that he'd know your answer. He hugged you tighter. "Do you want me to help you pack for it, then?" You felt like you should resist, but you gave in any way. You nodded as you shifted out of his lap and he helped you up.

Packing went fairly quickly without either of you saying much. Before you knew it, it was about 5 and Sebastian heard your stomach growl. "Why don't we grab food then head to the airport? Sound okay to you?" Again, you nodded. Your throat was just a tad bit sore from all of the sobbing recently. You gave Chloe a hug goodbye and Sebastian did the same, assuring her that Susan would be by soon to check on her. Once downstairs, Sebastian began the food choice discussion.

"So are you thinking about any food in particular?" You thought for a moment.

"Actually, you know what, I really wouldn't mind going to Brooklyn Bagel."

"Done."

After finishing dinner, you headed to the airport. It didn't take too long to check in. You still didn't know where he was taking you as he wouldn't tell you the actual location of boarding. When he stopped to sit at a gate, you looked at the departure time and location it was headed for.

"Nebraska? At 11:57 pm??" You were utterly baffled and did not like the sound of that. "I thought you said the flight was at 9." He nodded. "So we're not going to Nebraska?"

"Maybe we are, maybe we aren't."

"Are we just sitting here so I don't know where we're going until we board?"

"Mayyyyyybe." He couldn't stop himself from smirking, thoroughly pleased with his efforts.

"You do know I could just look at all the flights leaving at 9 from this terminal and figure it out, right?"

"You could, but this is LaGuardia, there are lots of flights leaving at the same time. I know you have fantastic investigative skills, but it'd be pretty tough to pull that off in such a time crunch." He paused, debating whether to propose something. "Do you think you could... just...let it be a surprise? Please?"

You stared at him wearily but agreed nonetheless.

"Do you want a coffee? There's a Dunkin' down the way."

"Yes, please. I sure do wish they had a Coffee Bean here. That's one thing I really do miss about the west coast."

"I thought you liked all of it."

"Well, yeah, I do love LA, but seriously, that was the best coffee I've ever had. Hands down."

"Well, I wish they had one here for you as well, but I guess Dunkin' will have to suffice?"

"Yeh, dependable Dunkin'."

He returned with two iced coffees and after he handed you yours, he pulled something else out of pocket. "I picked you up some Dramamine. I didn't remember seeing you pack any."

"Crap. You're right, I didn't. Thank you." You went ahead and opened it, and popped one.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I feel like it's somewhat counteractive to take those with coffee, isn't it?" He chuckled lightly.

"It probably would be if coffee had any caffeinated effect on me whatsoever."

He pulled his lips tight together into a "well I guess you're right, there" face and smiled.

"So....it's like 8:30...shouldn't we be boarding soon?" In perfect time, his phone chimed, alerting him to board. He looked at it.

"You're exactly right," he said shaking his phone at you and grinning mischievously. He yanked the phone away just in time before you got a glance of the destination. You couldn't help the happy nerves that had been growing inside of you since you agreed to go on this trip.

"Oh, come on! We're about to board so I'm gonna find out anyway!"

"But not before you're ready." The two of you stood and you followed his lead.

"Oh, I'm ready, mister. Beyond ready." You said this but he seemingly ignored you and continued to walk just a short bit ahead of you. After a few moments, he made a sharp right into a waiting area and stopped so that you could see the boarding information.

"LA!?"

"I figured you've seen NY at New Years, you should see LA too." He said before turning and winking.

"Seriously!? I've missed LA so much!"

"So you're happy about this?"

"Yes!" You threw your arms around his neck and pulled him to you, hugging him tightly. "Thank you, Seb," you added discreetly.

"You're welcome." He placed a kiss on the top of your head before urging you along to board. The flight attendants and captain greeted you and other flyers as you boarded. You found your seats, Sebastian put the bags in the overhead compartment and sat down beside you and buckled up.

Your eyelids failed you quickly, Dramamine kicking in. The last thing you could remember, you were asking Sebastian about the plans he had, if any. The next thing you knew, you heard them calling for everyone to return to seats and prepare for landing. When your eyes opened, your head was on Sebastian's shoulder and he had intertwined his fingers with yours and placed his other hand over your hands. Your hands were warm, not sweaty, but comfortable, as though they had been cold. You noticed that a blanket too had been draped across you.When you looked up, you saw his head tilted back, mouth faintly agape, still asleep. You couldn't stop yourself from grinning at how adorable he was like this. There was a bit of turbulence as the pilot prepared for landing and it shimmied Seb awake. When he woke, he immediately looked to check on you, but found you already awake, looking at him. A faint smile appeared on his face.

"If you couldn't tell, we're about to land." He nodded only, still smiling. Once landed, he grabbed the luggage and you followed him off the plane. When you stepped out of the terminal, you met a Jaguar that was waiting on you. Sebastian put the bags in the back and opened the door for you. He headed away from the airport and towards West LA before going farther Northeast to the Beverly Hills area.

You began to do one of your favorite winter things. You rolled your window down and before you could reach the controls, Sebastian was already turning the heat up and onto the feet. You smiled at him, pleased he remembered the small insignificant fact about you.

"I should warn you. While we're here, if we see a Rover with cameras strapped to it, I'm going to jump out of the vehicle and run after it."

"Please don't do that."

"Well...I mean I won't if..." He just barely rolled his eyes and sighed.

"If what?"

"If you just go ahead and set up a time for me to meet him."

"Meet who?" Great, now he was going to play dumb.

"You know good and well who."

"I'm drawing a blank."

"My favorite British Creme Puff, James freaking Corden, who never invited you to do Carpool Karaoke with him and you're forever bitter about it. Sound familiar?" He side-eyed you, causing laughter to bubble out of you.

"Oh, that guy." You shook your head smiling and went back to looking out the window. Before you knew it, you were heading up a steep hill and you pulled into a driveway in front of a gate. This wasn't but so much of a surprise as almost every single one of the homes up in the hills had closed gates in front of them. You look at him, with just a bit of surprise registering across your face.

"Are we...staying here?" He nodded, clearly amused and quite pleased with himself.

"Nice.....so we're not staying at a hotel?"

"No ma'am."

"Is this someone's house?"

"It's ours for a few days."

"Are you serious?" He nodded and continued to explain.

"It's actually about to go on the market. It's been vacant for about a month. Susan came across it as she was looking for lodging for us. Turns out Dick Van Dyke used to live here back in the day."

"WHAT!? THE DICK VAN DYKE!?" His grin encompassed his entire face now.

"Yes, ma'am. Susan told me and I knew it'd be perfect."

"Seb! This is crazy!"

"It gets better." Your eyes quadrupled in size and you could only speak at the level of a choked whisper.

"Are we going to meet him?"

His face scrunched up, realizing he'd given you false hope.

"I'm sorry, babe, not quite that good. I'm sorry to get your hopes up. I was just going to say that it's rumored that he and Julie Andrews practiced all of their choreography for Mary Poppins here in the basement dance studio. Well, that's what used to be the basement, now it's an additional room, apparently."

"Oh," you breathed deeply in an attempt to return your lungs to normal, "that's okay. I jumped to conclusions. That's my own fault. That's still amazing!"

"Yeh, trust me, if I could arrange for you to meet him, I would in a heartbeat." You smiled, touched.

"You really would, wouldn't you?"

"Of course." He grabbed your hand after putting the car in park. "Okay, now let's get in there and check the place out!"

@pari0924 @yesixoxo @a-d-v-e-n-t-u-r-e-s @verymuchso-youknow@moniquefitzgerald@chmereaustin@rayonship07@buckyband@wydari@parisispretty@mylexlife@ivoryfoxfigliadeifiori@pepperspraymeiwillpeppersprayyou @crownie-sr@sebstan01@awinterloveuniverse@linksforlaylor@layoutmellet@theliarone@rebekastan98@discophony@inthenameofrock@glitterintheairblog@millie-saurus-rex@celinejfong@camerica96@emilyinbuffalo@seargantbcky@sebbysebbastan@iamwarrenspeace @jeelicious78@valentinachr@badassbaker  @sebbystanlover-vk @mummastace @ssweet-empowerment @void-imaginations

Part One             Part Two                  Part Three               Part Four                                Part Five               Part Six                   Part Seven              Part Eight

Part Nine              Part Ten                 Part Eleven              Part Twelve

Part Thirteen             Part Fourteen                   Part Fifteen                                             Part Sixteen                Part Seventeen            Part Eighteen

Part Nineteen             Part Twenty             Part Twenty-one

[atamascolily]

Episode Review - Sinbad 1x11 - "The Prince Who Wasn't"

In which the crew is jolted from the doldrums by mysterious forces, right into a civil war in which curses are fulfilled in the most literal and unexpected way possible. Also, Sinbad engages in some strategic lies, the court wizard is actually a decent guy for once, Dermott makes a friend, Maeve tries to seduce the enemy again, and Firouz works hard to maintain his skepticism and scientific objectivity.

(Photos from Far Far Away.)

We open on the boat, with the crew stuck in the literal (or at least, slightly more than metaphorical) doldrums - hot and no wind. Everyone is cranky. They're supposed to be near the kingdom of Arborea, but the geography, as we shall see, is a little off, even accounting for the fact that it's entirely fictional.

"I estimate we’ve been drifting roughly thirty-six chickens, forty loaves of bread, and twelve skins of water," Sinbad remarks. Dermott's "just lucky he's a member of the crew," Doubar remarks, although Doubar is probably the one suffering the most from shorter rations. Maeve is offended, and Sinbad has to intervene to stop a fight.

Suddenly, the wind picks up - too much wind and they run aground after mucking about with the sails, yanking the tiller and lanterns falling over and catching things on fire.   

As if that weren't enough, a man suddenly clambors aboard, warning them away from Arborea and muttering cryptic comments about the walking dead and bleeding ghosts. He dies before he can tell them anything else. Cue credits!

On shore, the crew stumbles through a forest in the mist. Everyone is on edge. Firouz is trying to think of logical explanations, but Maeve is insistent that ghosts actually do exist and she takes the dead man's warning seriously.

They get attacked by knights on horseback, who flee quickly. Everyone is freaked out and puzzled as to what's going on.

Maeve takes off her cloak when the fight starts (sensible) and puts it back on again when the fight is over (also sensible).

Um, do I really need an excuse to post pictures of Maeve and Dermott together?

They wander into a graveyard, with a Celtic cross in the background. Given this plus dress of the knights, it's clear we're supposed to be some sort of version of medieval England(ish), but the actual doldrums are located closer to the equator. So they were just in a patch of no wind, not the literally doldrums because I can't think of any place on earth close to the equator that even REMOTELY approximates Europe.

One of the statues from the marble statue episode is "weeping" and everyone is creeped out even though Firouz claims it's just a natural phenomenon of atmospheric moisture.

They hear crying - it's not a ghost! It turns out to be a young boy, Xander, who is a prince of Arborea. His father, King Alderon, was betrayed by a man named Drax, who has imprisoned his mother and holds her as a hostage. Drax's men have killed all of Xander's loyal knights, and he's the only survivor  because he played dead. 

Maeve is moved by Xander's story and the crew vows to help him.

Dermott watches Xander with some interest. Dermott - sees with very keen eyesight, even beyond what you'd expect from an ordinary hawk.

Oh, yeah, also Drax has been cursed so that he can never rest - literally, no sleep at ALL - until the rightful heir is dead. That would be terrible except that Drax totally deserves it.

“A boy your age should be surrounded by laughter and friends. Not death.” Maeve is very firm about this. 

Maeve offers her hand to Xander, but he declines to take it, saying he's not used to being touched by commoners. Everyone is offput by this, but decides to let it go under the circumstances (kid is totally traumatized, after all).

Anyway, they walk all night, because Xander is in a hurry to rescue his mother. Doubar is suspicious but Maeve trusts Xander because Dermott trusts him and Sinbad sides with Maeve. "Brother, he needs us. Just as we once needed Dim-Dim." Oh, Sinbad, you softie.

Xander finds a flower - an Asiatic lily, not what you'd expect to stumble across in a South African forest, FYI - and take it as a sign there's still hope... only to watch in dismay as it abruptly withers while they watch. Xander tries to shrug it off, but he's really disturbed by this.

Anyway, he's beating up the court wizard Tiresias here, who really doesn't like Drax and is passive-aggressively refused to serve him by being incompetent.

“How hard is it to kill a little boy?“

“I wouldn’t know. Not in my line, really.“

“You and your scruples! Any wizard worth a salt would have rid me of that brat months ago! Oh, but no! You’re too…sensitive!“

Drax reminds me of the Sherriff of Nottingham from the various Robin Hood movies, which might actually be intentional. I can't tell.

Xander appears to have survived at least two assassination attempts thus far, seriously pissing off Drax. His men report the child's death, but Drax still can't sleep and then Xander appears again without a scratch on him.

Meanwhile, the crew takes a break. Maeve find Xander playing the old Shell game with Dermott. Dermott keeps winning, to Xander's bewilderment. Hilarious.

Maeve also plays a round with Xander. She's pretty good, too.

Xander opens up to Maeve about his life. "I never had a friend in my whole life! Now it’s too late!"

"I’ve had more than a past acquaintance with loneliness... It’s never too late to open a door and let someone in," Maeve says, offering him her hand again. Xander reaches out but pulls back at the last minute.

"That’s okay. You don’t have to rush things. One step at a time," Maeve says gently.

ASGKLYKF, I love this side of Maeve's character - how sensitive and empathetic she is here, and the rapport she has so quickly with Xander.

"Dermott’s lucky to have you too, Maeve," Xander says, noting that Dermott is more than just a pet or a friend to Maeve. No wonder they get along so well - they're all able to see truths about each other than no one else picks up on, at least not so quickly.

But alas, this tender moment is interrupted by Drax's troops, who are trying to kill Xander so Drax can get a decent night's sleep.

Fortunately, this crazy monster stumbles into the clearing and scares everybody off. The men think it's a ghost and run away FAST.

It's Firouz! See, I told you there were no ghosts, but look at what you can do when you take advantage of superstition! Firouz laughs. Everyone is just cheered that he saved the day again to question his conclusions about ghosts.

Maeve sees a wound on Xander's back...

... but it abruptly vanishes and he insists he's fine. They go on.

Meanwhile, Drax is being super-creepy with Xander's mother, making fun of her weight gain in captivity and depriving her of rations. He'll let her out of prison if she marries him. She refuses.

Xander was seriously freaked out by Firouz's trick, believing it was the ghost of his father come to punish him for being a coward during the battle where his father was murdered. Maeve is aghast at the idea.

Sinbad offers some words of comfort - by totally making shit up. "Should’ve seen me at my first battle. Scythean horsemen to the left of us, banshees to the right, saber-tooth tigers flying overhead, all attacking at once. And me, and my little drum. I tell you, I dove for cover quicker than you can say Ali Baba and the forty thieves. .... I didn’t come out until I was sure the coast was clear…about a week later. Look, sometimes your instincts are right. You’re still here, aren’t you?"

Um, I doubt the veracity of all of this, but it's totally the right thing to say, so it's hard to be too mad at Sinbad even if he goes a LITTLE overboard with the hyperbole. And perhaps something like it really did happen. But probably not all at the same time. But Xander is comforted and that's the important part.

Also, while the rest of the crew is out scouting, Maeve sees Xander flicker in and out, with an arrow in his back in the wound she saw earlier. She reaches out to touch him and her hand passes through. Xander is a ghost, and he is terrified his secret will get out.

"I have seen the dead walk, the dead bleed. The ghost was you." "If Drax finds out, my mother is doomed. The whole kingdom is doomed."

But he won't tell her why. Maeve wishes he'd trusted her earlier, but he points out that the rest of the crew might not have agreed to help him if they'd known his true nature (not true, but a reasonable fear under the circumstances).

Anyway, they run into Tiresias, who escaped the castle to warn them that Drax is expecting them and setting a trap. Tiresias is tired of working for Drax, and feels guilty about his prior service, even though it was either serve him or die. Also, there's a secret way into the castle! Woot!

So they storm the castle.

Drax sets up a crossbow pointing at the imprisoned queen that he can pull from the throne room in case our heroes make it that far.

Maeve and Xander go to the throne room to distract Drax while Sinbad rescues the queen and Rongar, Firouz and Doubar distract Drax's men.

Maeve decides that she can best distract Drax by seducing him because that actually worked in the past when she tried it with other warlords.

“You’d sacrifice yourself for the…boy?”

“You make it sound like such a chore. You’re a good-looking man.“

Sinbad rushes into the queen's prison and sees the loaded crossbow. Rather than try to dislodge the bolt, he decides it'll be easier and safer to cut the queen loose.

Too bad Drax figures out it's a trap. Maeve kicks him and he pushes her down. Dermott attacks Drax, and Drax pulls the trigger on the crossbow as the hawk swoops in.

Fortunately, Sinbad cuts the queen free just in the nick of time so they survive. Maeve and Xander face down Drax. Look at how determined she is!

Drax tries to kill Xander... only to freak out when the sword passes right through him.

It turns out the queen is pregnant with Alderon's child, and so the rightful heir still lives... thus allowing the curse to continue to haunt Drax even though Xander himself is dead. Xander was terrified Drax would find out their secret and kill his mother and/or his baby sibling before he could rescue her. CLEVER.

All the ghosts appear and mob Drax and he vanishes. Poetic justice, really.

As Xander says good-bye to the crew, he pauses when he comes to Firouz. "Now do you believe? ... It doesn't really matter whether you do or not. Thank you all the same."  Serious class, Xander! 

"Thank you Maeve, Dermott. Pity I had to die to make my first real friend.... Thank you. See you on the other side...not too soon, I hope."

Oh, my heart. Oh, oh, oh, oh.

As if that weren't ENOUGH poignancy, Xander turns to his mother. "Govern wisely, Mother. ‘Til he’s old enough to be King. You help her, Tiresias. I’m so sorry I’ll never know him. Can you tell him, when he’s older, about me? Will you tell him that his older brother loved him very much?" Of course, they say yes.

Then King Alderon's ghost comes for Xander, and they hug, and vanish together. AWWWWW.

Back on the boat, the rest of the crew wants to know if Firouz believes that Xander really was a ghost. Firouz stubbornly refuses to admit the truth, blaming it on food poisoning. "Those mushrooms we ate in the forest. Well, it’s a well-documented fact that some varieties of mushroom induce hallucinations. Often very vivid ones.... With all the talk of ghosts and such, it’s only natural that our hallucinations would be of a ghostly or spectral nature."

"Well, it is POSSIBLE!" Firouz yells, as everyone wanders off, realizing he's really not going to budge on this one. Firouz, honey, you're great and I love you dearly, but you're totally wrong about this - while still being right on a technicality - and a true scientist would admit when the evidence didn't match up with their theory. Firouz sees so much weird shit and magic over the course of the series - demons, Rumina, Maeve's fireballs, etc, etc - and yet refuses to admit that Xander is a ghost even after he sees the mob of ghosts swarm Drax? Really, Firouz? I think that's just your pride talking here and your fear that your friends will think less of science if you admit it there are gaps in it.

Okay, I love this episode so much - I love how Maeve manages to connect with Xander and I love that Dermott also has a rapport with this tiny ghost-child. I love how I didn't see the plot twist coming the first time I watched this, and I love going back and watching it when I DO know what's coming, because I can appreciate lines like "playing dead" or Xander saying he'll have no siblings "I'll ever know". Classic.

Also excellent: the court wizard being weak despite his magic - yet getting a backbone at just the right moment; Sinbad trying to comfort Xander; the shell game; Firouz saving everyone's asses with that ridiculous costume AND Firouz refusing to admit that ghosts might actually exist despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary. Also, Maeve trying and failing to seduce Drax: excellent. 

My one complaint is what happened at the beginning with the wind pulling them out of the doldrums, and who was that guy who staggered onto the ship - one of Drax's men? Then why is he dressed more like Alderon's father (and played by the same actor, I think) than any of Drax's men? That's never elaborated on or explained. What happened there, was it just chance? How did the dying man get on the boat, anyway? But that's a fairly minor quibble for what is otherwise an excellent episode.

[darkfalcon-z]

You cannot take it back, make it undone. Chapter 5

dbz au, Gohan, Raditz,  over 5000 words (together with footnotes), GEN,  space fantasy/soft science fiction/slice of life

warnings for: child abuse, manipulation, consumption of non-human sapient life forms.

special thanks to Over-8000 for beta reading this chapter for me

on AO3

chapter 1, previous chapter, chapter directory

next chapter 

One day Raditz brought an alien with him. For a supposed adult, it was a rather smallish creature with bluish-grey fur and a horse-like face. Despite the appearance it was most certainly a person of some kind, as clothes and jewellery indicated sapience.

"Kill this thing," Raditz ordered and dropped the being on the ground.

Utterly terrified, Gohan noticed the creature was already badly injured, too injured to get away, despite that they were frantically trying to move. They couldn't stand, so they tried to crawl until they collapsed on the ground and squawked in pain.

"Why?" Despite how frightened he was Gohan could not help but ask, a small hint of rebellion barely audible in his voice.

"Just do it! It's a part of your training," Raditz stated impatiently.

"I don't want to." Gohan braced himself in anticipation for the upcoming blow.

Raditz smacked him hard and Gohan fell to the ground.

"Stupid, fucking, brat! We don't have time for this!" Raditz shouted furiously but soon cooled down. He crouched next to Gohan, who still lay on the ground. Gohan pointedly did not look at him.

"What's the matter? Don't you know how to kill? I have shown you how to concentrate your power, but if you still can't do that there's plenty of things you can use. Just find a hard, sharp stick and stab them or hit them with a stone."

By the concerned tone of his voice, already absent of earlier anger, Gohan could tell Raditz was trying to be understanding and helpful. It did not help how macabre the whole situation seemed.

Raditz knew that some cubs just needed a little help to get a hold on killing their victims. It certainly wasn't abnormal. Some cubs would show curiosity or attempt to play with their prey. Of course, cubs just learning to kill were usually much younger than this one. It usually happened when the cubs started to live exclusively on solid food, or in more recent years before the destruction of Planet Vegeta, when they left their incubators. So it was no surprise they did not know what to do with their prey and how. He knew for certain this particular cub had never killed anything, save for small water mollusc, and he frankly thought that did not count as a legitimate kill. The obvious conclusion was that the brat would need Raditz’s help.

"I crippled them for you. They are no danger, you can safely approach. It's going to be an easy kill," he explained. "They're weak, you can strangle them or kick and punch them till they are dead." Maybe the cub needed just a little more assurance, a little more guidance.

"It's cowardly to attack someone who can't fight back," Gohan mumbled and refused to look at him.

"Oh, that." Raditz brightened. "It's good that you are so spirited and eager for a challenge. But I think it's still too early for you to fight an uninjured opponent."

"No. I won't do it," Gohan protested stubbornly.

"Fine! They are going to die anyway," Raditz spat. "It's just a matter of time." With those words, he left.

Gohan sat by the dying alien. He didn't know what to do, how to make things better. Even breathing looked painful for the creature. Whenever Gohan looked at their face, he could tell how frightened they were. But he couldn't do or say anything to help them. He tried not to cry, but couldn't stop his tears.

Then something unexpected happened. The alien raised their hand weakly and brushed it against Gohan's. He looked at the being’s face, but he could not read their expression. Was that a reassurance or a plea? He could only guess.

Finally, after what it seemed like forever, the alien died. Gohan did not leave the spot of his vigil until Raditz returned.

"You didn't do it after all," Raditz accused and then smacked Gohan for the second time that day.

"It was just pointlessly cruel, you know," Raditz said. He wouldn’t think much about pointless cruelty if it was more straightforward and actively inflicted. Raditz guessed to each their own, but passive observation of someone’s prolonged painful death wasn’t really a Saiyan thing. Worse yet, it took a lot of time. Saiyans killed easy victims quickly, mostly because they wanted finish their work as quickly as possible. And it wasn’t as if they had any personal grudges towards their victims, that would warrant dealing a painful death. Such behaviour from the cub could delay their work. Something had to be done about it.

Gohan sat back up, his eyes still fixed on the ground.

"They would suffer shorter if you just killed them," Raditz added and knelt by the dead body.

"They wouldn't suffer at all if you hadn't hurt them in the first place," Gohan mumbled.

Raditz gave him a stern look. "I told you, you are not ready. I'm responsible for you, you know? I don't want you to get seriously injured in this phase of your training, and I sure as hell don't want you killed."

Gohan clenched his fists in frustration. That was not what he meant at all. But he was tired, he didn't want to talk to Raditz any longer.

Raditz did not pay attention to Gohan's mood. Instead, he tore off one of the corpse’s arms and threw it at the boy.

"Here. Eat it," he ordered.

Gohan looked at him, mortified.

"What?! No! I can't! It's disgusting," he protested loudly. The prospect of eating a dead alien disturbed him greatly.

Raditz, who was in the foul mood already, wanted none of Gohan’s attitude. He grabbed Gohan by the hair on the side of latter's head, lifted the boy up and shook him painfully.

"Yes, you will," he drawled. "You need to eat. You're too thin already. If you lose any more weight, it is going to be bad for your health. And after today, you don't deserve anything better. So you will eat or I'm going to force it down your throat."

He dropped Gohan back to the ground.

"So? What’s it's going to be, brat?" he asked angrily.

"Can I at least cook it,"Gohan pleaded weakly. Even though he WAS hungry, he didn't want to eat any part of the dead alien. It was a person. This was eating a PERSON. Gohan felt this was wrong. He couldn't exactly explain why, but the thought disgusted him. But he also didn't want to be beaten any more. He was too tired to argue.

"Fine, if you can start a fire in 5 minutes," Raditz agreed.

Hastily, with shaking hands Gohan searched for suitable fuel in the nearby scrub. He managed to find enough dry branches to build a small heap and he lit it with his concentrated energy.

Raditz nodded with approval.

Gohan did not know how to cook properly something so large and while usually, Raditz would patiently answer his questions, now Gohan was too scared to ask and too nervous to improvise. He just settled for skewering the arm with a stick and putting it over the fire.

He could tell from the mean chuckle behind him that was not the correct thing to do. Unfortunately, Raditz did not feel generous enough to help him out.

Soon he had to rescue the scorching arm from the fire, as the stick broke and it fell down into flames. He heard Raditz laugh, then approach. Gohan feared that Raditz would force him to eat the practically raw meat.

Raditz crouched next to him. He peered around and chose a few more sticks from the pile Gohan had gathered earlier. First, Raditz stacked two smaller, forked branches at opposite sides of the fire. Next he lifted the forsaken arm from the ground and skewered it lengthwise with the longest stick from the pile. Once this was done, he secured the makeshift broach on the two supports.

"You need to rotate it slowly, otherwise it'll get charred on one side and still be raw on the other," he instructed. "You can make a grill too, but you’ll need more sticks."

"Thank you," Gohan peeped weakly. He didn't really think Raditz deserved much thanks, but it was good manners and Mom would be pleased that he had shown good manners.

Raditz just gave him an odd look. He tended to do that when Gohan thanked him for something.

"Whatever, brat," he brushed it off. "Just don't be so difficult next time."

He stayed with the cub to make sure the boy ate the unappetising limb. He snorted at the faces the cub made while he picked through the disgusting meat.

Maybe this was the problem; the creature he had brought for the cub to train with smelled completely unappealing. It was perfectly edible and rich with protein and fat - a good supplement for the cub's diet - but it tasted TERRIBLE. A Saiyan could tell that by smell alone when it came to meat. He certainly wouldn't touch it if he wasn't starving. Maybe the cub did not recognize the alien as a viable source of food?

But Raditz knew for sure the cub had to be very hungry so he did not expect problems concerning the unappetising alien. He had assumed that the cub would just do what comes naturally. So, what went wrong? The brat could have some hang-up about unappetising food. It was rare, but not unheard of among Saiyan children. That would explain why he had no interest in killing whatsoever.

It didn't explain why the boy had opposed his direct order, but cubs weren't exactly the most rational creatures. Maybe if he hadn't reacted so violently toward the first signs of disobedience from the cub, he would be able to goad the brat into killing. Maybe the brat had opposed him just for the thrill of getting into a confrontation? That had to be it. Or... maybe he had overlooked something. It just seemed off for some reason. But he saw no better explanation. Next time, he decided, he would bring something more suitable for Saiyan culinary tastes and see how the cub reacted.

*** Raditz squatted on the ground forearms resting on his knees and hands in front of him. Gohan crouched in similar position next to him. Another heavily wounded alien laid nearby, too hurt or too tired to move.

"You've killed before. Now you are telling me it's 'bad'?"Raditz asked.

"It was an animal yesterday. Now it's a person," the cub answered.

"I can see that, but this is also an animal. They die the same way. There is no difference," Raditz explained, exasperated.

"But it's NOT an animal," the cub protested stubbornly.

"Sure it is. They smell like an animal. The biological readings on the scouter are that of an animal. There are no reports of sapient fungi, plant people, crystal entities, energy beings nor any other weirdoes living on this planet so what else could it be? All people here are just animals." Raditz had no idea what the brat was trying to say, the cub sounded nonsensical. He could not think of a single reason why killing the alien now would be any harder, or ant different for that matter, than killing the beast yesterday. It was not like they were suddenly dealing with plant or fungus based entities, which would usually require destruction of whole body in order to ensure a kill, or some other exotic beings, that could only be terminated by some extraordinary means.

"What are we then? Are we animals too?"

Raditz groaned. "Of course we are! What did you think?" Wasn't it obvious? It should be, even for a small cub. Raditz knew the boy was intelligent and observant, but sometimes he didn't understand the simplest things. "Except, we are stronger animals. Predators. We kill them."

"But predators kill for food and..." the child trailed off.

"They're terrible to eat, we established as much." Raditz laughed as he recalled the incident from another day. "I'll make you a deal, brat. Kill them quickly and we can go get better food."

Normally he wouldn't bargain, but if the cub started to associate killing with a reward, then he might be less likely to object in the future. Besides, the brat needed more practice anyway. Killing had to be familiar. He couldn’t get hung up on each new kill. That would be ridiculous! It would take forever to get any work done. Also, Raditz needed to ensure the cub would kill when he was ordered to.

"But we can get something else to eat. We don't need to kill them for food," the cub reasoned.

"Yes, we do. I'll explain later. Now just kill them!" Raditz sighed. Why was this so difficult?

"It's bad to kill people." Gohan stubbornly stood his ground.

"Why?"Raditz sounded more tired than curious.

"It's what Dad says," Gohan replied. He was angry, he didn't know what to do, and he feared invoking Raditz's fury again. So far, the he had not seriously injured Gohan, and it really seemed like he had no intention of doing so, but he was a murderer. He could potentially become far more violent. If only Gohan wasn't so confused! If he only was less afraid than angry, but what could he do about it?.

Raditz thumped him on the head. "That doesn't explain anything!" he shouted. "And he was wrong," The mention of his brother had made him even more sour and his patience was wearing thin.

"Now kill them before I change my mind," he threatened.

Gohan considered his options. The being was dying, and as far as he knew there was no saving them. And, if no one did anything, they would suffer a long and painful death. Yet he still shrunk away from the prospect of killing someone.

Killing was definitely bad. You did NOT kill people. That was wrong, wrong! You could kill animals, when you were hungry and you were going to eat them. Gohan had killed an animal yesterday; Raditz had brought one for him to practice on. It had already been wounded so it was safe.

Well, it wasn't that easy. Gohan still had difficulty putting it to death, but he did get a lot of food. He was finally able to satisfy his hunger too. Even Raditz seemed happy with him. He patted his head and told him he ‘did good,’ although earlier he had laughed at the trouble Gohan had with the animal. Even before that, he had killed squid-things in the stream, and, he supposed, clam-things as well. The latter had to be alive as well, but they didn’t move so he hadn’t thought much about it at the time.

Gohan recalled observing a wildcat in the forest back on Earth with his Dad. It had brought a small creature, maybe a bird, to its kittens. It had still been alive, and the mother let the kittens play with it and eventually kill it. Dad had explained the wildcat was teaching its young how to hunt. At this moment, Gohan could not get the image out of his head.

He didn't want to be forced to eat this type of alien again, or to be beaten as a punishment for not doing as he was told. A very tiny part of him, somewhere deep down in his subconscious, wanted Raditz to ruffle his hair and tell him he had done well again. He didn't know why; Raditz was in his eyes a terrible villain. Then he thought about how Mom and Dad would be so disappointed in him if he murdered some innocent person, even if it was a weird alien. But wouldn't they be disappointed as well if he let the alien suffer with no hope for survival?

He gathered a ball of energy in his hand like Raditz had taught him. He just wanted to protect both himself and the alien from more needless suffering. With feverish mental apologies to the dying being and to his parents, he fired a small blast.

He hit the alien in the eye. Brain and fluids splattered everywhere.

"See, it wasn't that hard." Raditz was by him and ruffled his hair. "I told you it's the same."

Gohan wanted to be alone. He didn't want Raditz's hand on his head. Except the part of him still wanted Raditz approval. The part that wanted to believe, wanted to be reassured that nothing bad had happened. That HE hadn't done anything bad.

Raditz peered down at him. "I promised you better meat, but let's clean you up first," he said, all too casually, and rubbed some of the brain matter from Gohan's bangs. Almost as an afterthought, he turned back and incinerated the corpse with an energy blast.

Gohan didn't feel so good. He followed Raditz numbly to the nearby stream. He wanted to get cleaned but somehow he couldn't coordinate his hands to do it. When Raditz asked him what was wrong with him, he said he was just exhausted. It was partly true, concentrating enough energy to kill certainly wore him out. Luckily, Raditz accepted the explanation and did not question him any further. He even helped Gohan clean up and assured him that he would feel better after eating something. Then Raditz took him to catch their next meal.

When Raditz finally let him alone and was out of hearing range, Gohan broke down. He could no longer pretend nothing had happened. He sat on the ground and cried really hard. Was there anything he could have done? The alien had been dying anyway, he had just released them from their suffering. There was nothing more he could have done in that situation. Nothing.

He was confused about whether or not he did the right thing, unsure of his role. He felt angry, but he didn't know where he should direct his anger. After all, he wasn't even quite sure what was making him angry. He was powerless in face of this new reality. He had to play along to survive, but for how long? He just wanted to go home.

*** Shai!kara was having the worse and most likely the last day of their life. Several days ago, half of their village managed to escape a fey attack on their dwelling and hid in the forest. They had built a camp along with some other survivors, determined to live through the invasion. But fate wouldn't allow it.

Their camp had been attacked. Shai!kara survived only because they were away collecting food. When they heard the assault, they immediately ran away as fast as possible. As much as they wanted to help the others, Shai!kara was no hero. What could they do anyway? But luck was not on their side either. The fey dropped down in front of them from the sky. They weren’t able to stop in time and crashed headlong into their enemy.

"You'd do nicely." The fey caught them and effectively prevented their fall. "Now, as long as you behave I won't hurt you,"

It was a terrifying creature, nearly two heads taller than Shai!kara or their tribe's people, and very muscular. Its body was furless, except for a long mane of thick, black hair. Its face was flat and only the nose stuck out. It was unsettling. Its gaze was especially frightening as its eyes showed mostly the whites. Truly it was one of the most demonic fey anyone could imagine.

Shai!kara was too panicked to struggle against it. The creature pinned them to its side with one mighty arm and took off into the sky, which caused them to abandon any thoughts of resistance whatsoever.

The giant fey took them where a smaller one waited.

"Now brat, you kill this fella here. We'll see how you fare. They are weaker than you, so there should be no problem. But be on your guard - scared creatures can be very dangerous." With that last remark, it released Shai!kara.

Shai!kara tried to assess their situation. They stood in front of the smaller fey, perhaps a foal, while the bigger one moved back. Shai!kara risked a glance at it. It was still observing them and its foal. Would it let them go if they tried to escape? They looked back at the smaller fey. It didn't look happy at all, but its stance seemed to show that it was preparing to attack. If that thing was indeed a foal, maybe those creatures were not supernatural and could be fought and defeated? Maybe, despite the magical ability to fly and kill with light, they were mortal. Shai!kara concluded they needed to kill the foal first if they wanted to survive this. Then maybe they had a chance with big one. But wouldn't the big one attack them when they fought the little one? They just had to take their chances and hope for the best.

The fey foal looked stressed, almost sick. It seemed so incredibly unfair to kill this creature to save their life. Hsha!!sari, Shai!kara's people, believed it was a sin to kill a foal or young of any kind. And Shai!kara was of that age when they could already have a foal of their own. It seemed abhorrent to kill one. But could they survive otherwise?

Shai!kara was by no means a fighter. Among their people they were regarded as weak and frail. But their opponent was a mere foal, surely even they could defeat the small thing? And then, maybe the opportunity to escape the adult ‘fey’ would present itself. Chances were slim but they were fighting for their life. Given the stakes, Shai!kara decided to fight and kill the foal to save their own life. Having made their decision, they attacked.

Gohan saw a scared alien. The being looked a lot like the first one of their species he saw. He would have hard time telling them apart if not for the fact this one was slightly smaller than the first one and their fur’s hue was warmer, more purplish, than bluish. But the patterns on clothing they wore and jewellery were different. Their eyes were dark, showing virtually no whites, and gentle, like the eyes of a deer. He didn’t want to fight them and he certainly didn’t want to kill them. He had killed a person before, and although he felt terrible about it, he was able to find some consolation in the fact that the person had been dying. He had just shortened their suffering. This was different. The person he was facing now was uninjured and if he let them get away, they could continue living.

He knew Raditz would punish him if he failed to kill the being and he would likely receive some small reward if he followed orders and managed to make a kill.

Raditz was probably going to kill them anyway. Did it really matter who did the deed, as long as the outcome was death?

But the thought of killing anyone didn’t sit well with Gohan. He didn’t want to be a murderer. In spite of that, he took up a fighting stance. He wanted to find the strength to stand up to Raditz... He really did.

Then the alien attacked Gohan. The two of them fought while Raditz merely watched.

Gohan felt small, even though his opponent wasn’t that large. His first beam attack missed. He did not know where to strike. Panicking, he punched and kicked where he could reach but it seemed he was getting hit more times than his opponent. For a moment, he thought he was going to be overpowered and he felt scared. Was he going to die? Raditz did not help, he just watched. Would he just let the alien kill Gohan? The thought was chilling. Gohan felt desperation and… his mind went blank for a moment, then...

...The deed was done.

Relief and triumph rushed to his head just for a moment. It was good to be alive. It was good to win. It was good to...

Gohan hung his head low and breathed heavily. It was in part due to exhaustion, and in part in an attempt to prevent himself from crying aloud. And in part in shame. Did he just think…

He was a murderer.

Raditz approached the cub and ruffled his hair. Something drew his attention, and he squatted to better see the cub’s face. The boy had tears in his eyes!

"Does your mother's species produce tears when they attack?" Raditz asked.

"I don't know," the boy answered meekly and rubbed the tears away.

"Better not, tears make your vision blurry," Some species displayed such physiological reactions to their own acts of aggression. Raditz had heard of it happening to Saiyans after especially harrowing battles and in cub’s limited experience, this skirmish must have counted as a hard fight. Once the boy became accustomed to fighting, the tears should stop.

He was worried at first, but then Gohan realized he wouldn’t be punished for crying - this time. It seemed Raditz did not comprehend Gohan's silent tears. To Gohan that was more frightening and somehow unjust than any punishment Raditz could have inflicted for weeping. In truth, Gohan could not grasp everything he felt at that moment. It was too much. Raditz thought the brat deserved recognition for his first unassisted kill: a name. He deserved it. Raditz wanted to give him a Saiyan name to show that he belonged among Saiyans.

He thought up several names he liked: Roké, Parsni and Cerne were good choices, but none of those seemed to fit. Raditz also liked ‘Manesca’ very much, but Manesca was a mad warrior and famous for excessive strength. No, Nappa and Vegeta would just laugh at that and mock both him and the boy. And it didn't 'fit' either. Well, the cub liked the name given to him by his parents and wanted to keep it, so at least he wouldn't have to get used to a new one.

"Anyway... good job Gohan," he said, ruffling the boy’s hair some more.

Gohan froze. Raditz had never used his name before! It should have made him happy, but now it just felt wrong. It didn't fit anymore. It belonged to the world of Gohan's Father and Mother.

He let Raditz ruffle his hair some more. He could hear promises of food. No doubt a reward for his deed. He felt dirty. Then Raditz said something about polishing his skills further. For once, he didn’t pay attention. He hoped Raditz hadn’t noticed. Fortunately, he was left alone soon after.

Gohan recalled how desperately he had wanted to keep his name, his human name. But now he wished that Raditz would change it. Then he wouldn't be Gohan, who had just killed an innocent person, but some other boy. Gohan would still be pure and untouched.

But Raditz said nothing about it. Now Gohan had to live through all of it. Gohan was responsible.

He didn’t want this. Any of this. He was a murderer. He was ashamed of himself. He thought, for the first time but not for the last, that even if his parents did somehow manage to find him they wouldn’t want him anymore. He thought he didn't deserve to go back home now. He wished that nothing had happened. That it was just a bad dream. He wanted to be home with his parents so much.

So many different emotions ran through him right now. He was furious at Raditz for taking him away from his family, for making him do awful things, and at himself for giving in and being so weak, at Vegeta for casting a shadow of terror over his life, and at the alien being he had just murdered. Even at his parents for not being around to protect him from it all. He had no idea what to do with all that rage, and where to direct it.

Gohan felt powerless, but at the same time he felt very afraid. What else was going to happen to him, and if he had murdered someone already what else would he do? He was afraid of emotions and situations that he did not know how to deal with. That fear bound him down. He felt shame, guilt and regret, all of which weighed him down and wore him out. He felt confusion. Confusion made him powerless.

He felt too tired even for crying. He went back to the pod and curled on the seat wishing the reality wouldn't hunt him in his dreams. 

Roké - (meaning: defiant, disobedient, unruly; inspiration: Eruca Sativa, also known as Rocket salad, Rucola and five or six different similar sounding names) a name of Raditz's older nest sister. She was second oldest child in the nest and sort of leader of children in Raditz's house. She was his primary hunting teacher and often carried him around when he was still too small to keep up.

Cerne - (meaning: a person, who can look at situation from many perspective to find solutions, an unorthodox thinker; inspiration: Medicago Sativa, commonly known as Alfalfa or Lucerne) a name of a hero of Saiyan stories. Cerne was a cunning warrior, who defeated enemies with wits and smart strategies rather than strength. Noted for medical knowledge. In some stories Cerne is pregnant or weaning a baby. Usually Cerne is referred with 'she' pronoun, but some tell the stories using 'he' pronoun. It is because Saiyan storytellers (which can be just anyone) try to achieve some form of identity with the hero of the story and gain heroic virtues (understood as excellency) in exchange. Of course other storytellers repeat the stories how they heard them.  

Note that the fact that Saiyans use gender-specific pronouns at all is due to the fact they use Universal Galactic Language, which is in this fic represented by English language. There were no gender-specific pronouns in original Saiyan language.

Parsni - (meaning: cheerful; inspiration Pastinaca Sativa or Parsnip) a name of Gine's friend. Fun personality. He was notable for liking machines and being a good tactician. He was successful warrior and well liked, even though strength wise he was average or below.  

Manesca - (meaning: fearless, undaunted; inspiration: Romanesco Broccoli) a berserker like warrior from popular Saiyan tales. Some stories identify Manesca as the Legendary Supersaiyan, other paint them as enemies (and as worthy opponents at that), but in most retellings they are not related in any way.

next chapter 

[mystic-heads-blog]

An Accident - @mysme69minutes​ Time: About 60 minutes! Ahh, this was nice to write. It’s 1399 words, and a few fair warnings, it’s a bit angsty and I left it unconcluded because.. well, I thought this was a nice ending to the prompt, and then you can fill in the rest yourself! And also I didn’t want to actively murder anyone lmao. Hope you guys like it, anyway!

Yoosung groaned as he woke up. Where was he? This didn’t seem to be his apartment, or.. no, he wasn’t supposed to be in his apartment. It took a few minutes before it came back to him. Hadn’t they been on their way to the RFA party? Then why was he feeling so sleepy now? And why was his entire body so sore? Slowly, he opened his eyes, trying to figure out what had happened and where he was.

A hospital.

He realised the minute he’d opened his eyes that he was at a hospital, and then that he was feeling sleepy because of anaesthetics as well as pain killers, as there were bandages at several places over his body and his leg was in a cast. But there was no one around to ask what had happened – wait. There was no one around? Where was MC?

Panic took over the still limited functioning of his brain as he tried to sit up, something that worked until a certain extent, with a lot of moaning due to pain. If he was in this much pain..

At that moment someone entered his hospital room with a cup of coffee, and Yoosung looked at them with a panicked face. They weren’t MC, nor a nurse. It was Jumin who’d entered the room, and Yoosung opened his mouth to demand an explanation for his injuries as well as his girlfriend’s absence.

“Yoosung, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

That was the moment Yoosung realised his voice was having trouble obeying him as well as the rest of his body, but he managed to croak a few words. “Where’s MC?”

“She’s still in surgery.”

At the shock on Yoosung’s face, Jumin started to explain.

“You were in an accident. A truck hit the car MC was driving at the driver’s side – she’s not doing very well. But the doctors are doing everything they can.”

Yoosung didn’t talk, not because his voice didn’t obey, but because he didn’t know what to say. Obviously, ‘not doing very well’ had been an understatement, with the added ‘the doctors are doing everything they can’. And if he was doing this badly when he’d been at the passenger’s side, there was no way MC was even nearly okay.

“How.. long’s it been?” He managed to croak out again, frowning.

“A few hours. The rest will be here soon – they had to keep the party running.”

Of course, everyone had wanted to come, but Jumin had ordered Jaehee to keep the party going. It was terrible that Yoosung and MC had been in an accident, but there was no use in cancelling the party, especially not when many guests had already made their appearance. And there was nothing to do in the hospital besides waiting, anyway, especially not when Yoosung had been asleep still.

“Is.. she going to be okay?”

“They don’t know,” Jumin admitted, his voice soft, the only way he knew how to comfort someone. “They’ll know more after the surgery.”

“What are her injuries?”

“Too many to list,” Jumin added with a frown. “But most importantly a piece of metal piercing her aorta. It stayed in place so far, so she didn’t bleed out, but removing it is risky.”

Yoosung once again kept quiet.

Jumin observed him in silence, unsure what to say.

Just then a nurse entered the room, asking for Jumin to come along. There was an update on the young woman he’d been asking after. After assuring Yoosung that he would return and tell him what’s going on, Jumin followed after the nurse, who took him to the surgeons that had been working on MC’s injuries.

“Yes?” Jumin inquired, his face stoic, though his heart was beating rather quickly due to anxiety over MC’s state.

“She’s alive,” the surgeons assured him, relief washing over Jumin. “But she will have to remain in intensive care for the time being. We don’t know how her body will react to the repairs we’ve made to her aorta, and then there’s the several other wounds the body will be trying to heal – with our help, of course. You can come see her, if you want, but we will not wake her up anytime soon.”

Jumin nodded, following after the nurse once more into another room. He managed to keep a straight face despite his shock upon seeing MC – she was looking terrible, not at all the way he was used to seeing her. MC was always smiling, always looked graceful at the RFA parties, but now there was nothing left of those quality. She was as white as a corpse, with tubes coming out of her arms, another one from her mouth, and bandages all over her body.

But she was alive. It could have been worse.

He sat down next to her, nodding at the nurse who was checking the parameters on the machines. As the nurse left, he put his hand on MC’s arm, to ensure she was listening. If she could. “You have to get better. Yoosung won’t be able to handle it if you don’t.”

Those were the only words he spoke. She had to get better. For Yoosung’s sake.

Of course, MC was important to the rest of the RFA, too. She’d helped all of them, to a certain extent, and all of them had become closer to each other due to her appearance in the organisation. She couldn’t just.. leave. Whether voluntarily or not, she couldn’t.

But Jumin couldn’t admit that out loud, so after speaking those words, he left to Yoosung to bring him the news.

“She’s alive, in intensive care. They’ll be tracking her process closely and taking care of her,” he told Yoosung, sitting down besides his bed now. “There’s no need to worry – it’ll just cost you energy you should preserve for your own recovery.”

Yoosung relaxed a bit upon hearing that MC was alive, though her staying as such wasn’t quite confirmed. He finally laid himself down again properly, his body immediately welcoming the less straining position. “Thank God..” That was all he managed to speak, though he wanted to add more – but he was interrupted by Seven rushing into the room.

“Yoosung! You’re alright!” He said cheerfully, grabbing the blonde’s hand. “I can’t believe what happened.. I checked, and MC is stable so far. Zen is sitting next to her in case she wakes up, although we’ve been told that she’s being kept asleep artificially for a while. He seems to worry regardless,” Seven almost laughed, doing his best to keep his spirits up. “V is getting a cup of coffee with Jaehee. Do you remember what happened?”

Yoosung strained to think, but shook his head. All he remembered was them driving, then nothing. “No..”

“The crash must’ve been unexpected, then.. Did you hear anything more specific, Jumin?”

But before Jumin could say anything, Zen rushed into the room. “MC is coding!” He exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. “She’s being pulled back into surgery.”

Jumin frowned, standing up and leaving the room in a rush to check what exactly was going on.

Yoosung bit his lip, hard, his face seeming to be fixed in a perpetual expression of distress. “She’s.. going to be okay, right?”

“Definitely!” Seven said, though he looked worried. “The doctors will take care of her.”

“Yeah,” Zen confirmed, his face now showing a reassuring smile. His initial panic had faded, and he realised that he shouldn’t have acted this way in front of Yoosung. “I’m sorry for rushing in like this.”

“No.. I want to know,” Yoosung assured him, once more trying to sit up.

But Seven stopped him, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t, Yoosung. You should try to get some rest.”

“I can’t..” He objected, though he remained in his resting position as Seven was holding him down with slight force, and he was in no position to fight against that. “What if something happens?”

“We’re here if it does,” Zen assured him. “We’ll wake you up when there’s more news.”

Yoosung frowned, having a terrible feeling about this. But he listened to his two friends, closing his eyes, soon falling asleep as his body definitely needed the rest. He didn’t know what he would wake up to, but if it was a world without MC, then he knew he never wanted to wake up at all.

[too-young-to-die-blog1]

Major Quest: Round the World in 80 Days

Who: Bridget Miranda, Ezekiel Frank, Maxine Wilkins

Tagged: @ineverunderstoodanything @cleaveittobridget​

Word Count: 4455

Warnings: None

Maxine: Hatun Stronghold. That was the name the NPC mentioned to the other player, so this was where Maxine wanted to go. Sadly, her absolute lack of both gaming experience and sense of direction caused her to get lost shortly after she started her journey with the obstacle of finding a party of three to actually do the quest ever so present. She looked around herself for a second, looking out for the next best person that looked like someone who actually knew stuff about gaming, spotting a person that might just fit that description. She took a deep breath and then another before building up enough courage to walk up to them. “Excuse me?”, her voice sounded quiet and almost shaky with nervousness, making her feel even younger than she was. “I- I'm on my way to Hatun Stronghold and I'm afraid I got a bit lost. You don't happen to know the fastest way to get there, do you?”

Ezekiel: Hearing the squeak of a voice behind him, Ezekiel turned around to meet the newcomer with a smile. "Headed out to find the translation of the newest Dungeon Clue are you?" he stated in as warm a voice as he could manage amidst eating. He quickly tried to tidy his appearance, swiping the crumbs from his beard and straightening in his chair. The last thing he needed was someone assuming he was a wild-born. "Bridget and I just found it in the message boards, its been puzzling everyone," nudging the woman seated next to him pouring over her menu. He pulled open a the message board, displaying the image of the script, then pulling up the map and pointing to a corner, "I think the place is here, based on all the tags that are flooding that direction. You can join us if you wish, we were just abut to head out."

Bridget: Bridget yelped out an "ow!" when she was nudged, only to look up and realize that they may actually be able to form a whole party. That was good because it seemed like everyone else knew each other and quickly paired up. Bridget had been standing around reading the message board for a long while before the other two came around. Bridget was glad to find a party for this quest because it would likely be long and take forever, plus with the whole you die here you actually die thing, she wasn't exactly looking forward to battling monsters. "Yeah, you're free to join us" Bridget answered "We need three people for a party."

Maxine: Maxine nodded affirmatively at the mans question. Surprised that he seemed to be a lot nicer than what she expected based on looks alone, she even mustered a small smile. The offer to actually join their party came unexpected as she carefully listened to the directions he gave her. Startled, her mouth opened and closed for a few times. "I- uh. That- That would be great actually." Another smile genuine smile settled on her face. "Party of three it is then. I'm Max by the way."

Ezekiel: "Well meet, Max, I am Ezekiel." Ezekiel lifted himself from his chair, scattering his meal into pixels while he did so. He turned towards the door and motioned for Bridget to go first saying, "Take the lead, we'll be right behind you. Let nothing cross our path!" Having found a group not out for someone's blood for once, Ezekiel was determined to keep this fortune rolling.

Bridget: "Bridget" she answered simply before nodding towards Ezekiel and heading out the door. She brought up her map for a moment before she began to head towards the Hatun Stronghold. Looking behind her, Bridget said for the others to hear "We have a lot of traveling to do. So best get to it while we can, before the quest runs out and we've traveled all over the place for nothing." She barely checked to see if they were following her, walking briskly as to keep them on their feet and moving. They would have to move fast if they wanted to complete the quest in time.

Maxine: Keeping in step with Bridget wasn't easy and had Maxine follow her at that uncomfortable pace that was just too fast for walking, yet not quite fast enough for a slow jog. "So we just go to the stronghold, ask the guards about the note and that's it?", she asked, a somewhat confused look on her face. It would definitely take some time for her to get used to this whole quest system.

Ezekiel: "That's how it would go if you read the npc messages. But most just hit the skip button and follow the new quest marker," Ezekiel replied, easily keeping pace with Bridget. This is nothing compared to morning Parade inspection, he thought. "Honestly, my guess is that we'll have to travel to several spots, classic 'ancient prophecy' stuff." Ezekiel kept his eyes to the side of the road, the discussion boards had been on fire with reports of scuffles across the floor, apparently this quest was worth something to a lot of people.

Bridget: "What he said" Bridget answered "We'll likely figure it out as we go along but it won't be much different then any other quest." She shrugged, keeping her eyes on anyone they passed who might look like they were interested in their conversation. You could never be too careful in this game, especially given the circumstances. "We should probably at least skim what the NPCs say, just in case there's some important information. You have no idea how many times I have gone back and forth places in a MMORPG trying to figure out what to do next, when if I just read the NPC log, I would've known what to do next."

Maxine: She just nodded along to their explanations, pretending like most of what they were saying basically sounded like a foreign language to her. "So you two do this a lot, play games like these?", she asked curiously, hoping that she wasn't overstepping any lines by bringing up their real life. "You sure seem to know what you're talking about." The more people they passed, the more Maxime wondered how long "a lot of traveling" as Bridget called it would take.

Ezekiel: "When I was in the States, yeah. Hard to play while I was on active duty, but I made due with the pen & paper stuff." Judging by the question, he assumed she didn't play that much, that and the fact she wasn't watching the other players that heavily. "MMO's are a hard genre to get into, and an even harder one to get out of, no pun intended. My sis put a couple hundred hours into one and still never finished, granted she spent more time buying clothes than fighting bosses."

Bridget: "Oh yeah," Bridget nodded, still walking as fast as she could manage "I practically grew up playing games like this. It's in my DNA." Bridget was a little worried about the other's inexperience but she wouldn't say anything. You had to learn somehow and Bridget wished she had found someone who was willing to help her learn when she was first started out instead of just calling her a newbie and ignoring her. Gamers could be so mean sometimes. "I don't think they're that hard, honestly. Pretty fun if you think about it. But I guess they're not for everyone."

Maxine: Maxine listened to their stories with an interested look on her face she wasn't surprised by their past experience considering the way they moved around as if this was nothing different than what they would do on any other afternoon. "I'm not sure if it'll be something for me. This the first time I've played anything and so far I can't really say I'm a fan." When the gamr maker and his little drath mechanics crossed her mind, she pulled a pained looking face

Ezekiel: Seeing the worried look on her face, Ezekiel slowed his pace a bit and places a hand on Max's shoulder. "Whether in here, or in the real world, there will always be things that are...unfriendly. Humanity never got where it was dwelling on its fears, and you would not have made it this far if you let those fears shackle you. Besides, this is a video game, there's always a way to beat a video game." He flashed a wide smile at Max and gave her a gentle shove to help close the gap between her and Bridget before turning his gaze to the ceiling briefly.

Bridget: Bridget turned while still walking full force to notice that her party had slowed. She could understand why Maxine would be upset about the whole situation; it must suck to try out a game for the first time and then get stuck in some sort of weird death machine. But still, Bridget didn't see any reason to dwell on things that you couldn't change. So instead, she pressed forward and kept walking. She brought her map up again and realized that where they needed to head was an island. This immediately raised a thousand questions in her mind. How would they get there? Was there some sort of transportation? And most importantly, did it work the same as a normal MMORPG? Would they simply click on a NPC and instantly travel there or would they have to endure the process like in real life? This whole business was giving her a headache and it made her walk even faster. Turning to the others as she walked, Bridget said "Well apparently where we're headed is an island. So I hope you brought your lifevests."

Maxine: Startled by the sudden touch, Max jumped slightly, but quickly found it to be more comforting than anything else. There's always a way to beat a video game. This she would try to remember. "Thank you," she said warmly, almost giggling when Ezekiel shoved her forward. She glanced over Bridget's shoulder, trying to catch a look at the map. "An island? So what do we do, rent a boat?"

Ezekiel: "Finally, some good news!" He quickly jogged forward to look at the map, using his hand to measure distance like a compass. "That's not too far of a journey, maybe a day or so if the weather holds. If we could grab a small schooner or a skiff we'll make great time, since the ferries are always skirting around to the side." The grin on Ezekiel's face could not be bigger, he hadn't been able to sail for nearly 5 months before entering D.I. His pace quickened severely.

Bridget: Bridget looked at Ezekiel like he was growing an alien out of his head. "You a sailor?" She asked, curious. She had no idea what a schooner or a skiff was but if this guy knew what he was talking about, she would gladly let him figure it out. Bridget was never too fond of the ocean, even though she lived pretty close to one. She had no idea if they had to rent a boat or how any of it worked. She was severely missing the way a real MMORPG worked, where she would just click on a NPC and it would magically whisk her off to an island. Instead she had to figure out where a boat was and actually ride in it.

Maxine: "Well, someone's getting excited," Max said, a soft laughter in her voice. The look on Bridget's face was calming, letting her know that she wasn't the only one who had no idea what he was talking about. "So what's the new plan then? Find a harbour, find a ship and see how things are working out from there?" She wasn't the type for this kind of stuff. Just with winging it has never seemed to be sufficient. She would rather spend hours and hours planning something out, taking every detail into consideration, but right now this really didn't seem to be an option. It seemed like they actually had to improvise.

Ezekiel: "One step at a time. Once we get to the harbor, we can assess our situation. If there isn't a cheap way to cross aside from the ferry, my idea is to commandeer a smaller vessel so that we can avoid the massive throng of players heading that way." He kept his eyes  fixed on the horizon, taking a long whiff of the air. "You can already smell the salt!" The faster we get to a ship, he pondered, the better chance we can find a secluded spot to plan our route entirely.

Bridget: "Sounds good to me" Bridget answered. She preferred to plan things out as she went along and changed it as she saw fit. It was easier that way, especially in a game where you could die by making the wrong choice. Bridget just laughed at Ezekiel's enthusiasm and shrugged towards Maxine. At least he was enthusiastic about it and seemed to know what he was talking about. When Ezekiel mentioned being able to smell the salt air, Bridget turned to him and said "Can you really smell it? I mean, you have to think that your body is not actually here. It's where you linked up to. So you could be locked inside a one-bedroom apartment, far away from any ocean, and yet you can smell it. Pretty trippy, huh?"

Maxine: "That's the plan, then," Maxine nodded, somewhat defeated. Improvisation seemed to be key here and that would be something what would take quite some time for her to get used to. At least she could remind herself that Ezekiel actually knew what he was doing to comfort herself. She couldn't help but pull a face at Bridget's explanation. She wasn't wrong, obviously, but exactly that was the problem. Despite the obvious reality of their current situation, she still liked to remind herself that she wasn't lifelessly lying around in some arcade in Bristol while being stuck in some kind of video game limbo. "That's a pretty grim thought, don't you think?"

Ezekiel: "Just because it may seem dull, doesn't mean it still isn't wonderful. This place gives people a second chance that might be otherwise impossible," states Ezekiel flatly, absentmindedly rubbing his right as he says so. "And as for the salt, it doesn't matter whether I'm smelling it out the window in Juneau, or smelling it here just over the hill. It let's me know I'm alive, that I am able to do something." He stops shirt just after saying this, seeing the massive crowd around the docks.

Bridget: Bridget took both of their answers in stride. "Well, exactly. It is beautiful. And amazing how fully immersed we are in the game. You can literally smell the ocean. I'll take that over my shitty life anyday. Except for the whole you die here, you die in real life thing, you have to admit that this is a pretty steller concept. It's a gamer's dream come true." She meant every word of it and hand't even considered the idea that there might be people out there unable to do certain things in real life, who were now able to do those things in this game. Shame about the whole killing you thing. Bridget follows Ezekiel's lead and looks to notice the massive crowd standing around the docks. "Looks like we're not the only ones on the quest." She said before turning to Ezekiel "So what was that about the skip or crooner or whatever? You know how to make the boat-thing go into the water and make it go to the island?"

Ezekiel: Ezekiel scanned the edge of the small village, looking for a corner of the dock that wasn't filled with players. He saw one pier of to the left that was fairly deserted, aside from an elderly man who looked to be fishing. "I suggest we head over there, see if we can't persuade that man to lend us a boat, if he has one." He kept glancing toward the flock of people by the ferries. He hoped they could get out of the harbor before some of them tried to chase them down for a free ride. "If I walk up to him, can you two keep an eye on the pack over there? No need for us to turn into another ferry."

Maxine: Maxine decided to stay quiet. This was not her place to prove a point and ruining other people's happiness wasn't something she took an interest in. Instead she decided to let them enjoy their "second chance". For her, it was nothing but a curse. She should be studying for her A levels and filling out college applications right now, but instead everything she worked hard for all her life seemed to be just slipping through her fingers.

The view of the crowded docks didn't exactly add to her already barely there optimism either. Unsure of what to do now, she gave Ezekiel and Bridget a questioning look, hoping that one of them had a plan and Ezekiel delivered. "Sure, no problem. We'll keep watch," she said, giving a small nod before ah started observing the crowd.

Ezekiel: "Alright, try to stay behind cover is possible, and give me a warning only if it is dire, otherwise I'll have to break the conversation with the npc." With that said, Ezekiel started walking towards the fisherman, taking care to walk slowly and keep from drawing attention. Upon reaching the old man, Ezekiel tapped on his shoulder asking, "got a sec to chat old timer?" "Wanting to perfect your cast are ya? Well sit down and I'll teach you a thing or two," triggering a fishing skill tutorial. This was obviously the wrong guy to talk to.

Bridget: Bridget shrugged at Maxine before finding a tree to sit under and watching the crowd. They were all standing in line to presumably hitch a ride to the island. Bridget did her best to listen but most people were talking in hushed whispers or not talking at all. She hoped Ezekiel knew what he was doing because otherwise they would have to find another way to the island and time was running out. Bridget was pretty awkward in life and friendships weren't really her thing, so instead of attempting to talk to Maxine, she just stayed quiet and waited for Ezekiel's return.

Maxine: Maxine gave a weak smile in return for Bridget's shrug, but preferred to stand rather than sitting down next to her, hoping that Ezekiel wouldn't take too long. She tried her best to stay focused on the crowd but found herself distracted by the uneasy silence between her and the other woman quickly. "Do you like sailing?", she asked after clearing her throat, a poor attempt to start some small talk.

Ezekiel: "No no no, I don't a tutori..." Ezekiel spattered as the old man began his very in-depth guide to fishing. Well, at least he could use the cover to inspect the ships. Most of the smaller ships were rowboats, which would not help with speed, not to mention he would probably have to do most of the rowing. Ezekiel did spot one small skiff with a mast about 50 yards away. He decided he could make a break for it and start untying, once the tutorial ended...

Bridget: Bridget's attention was brought to Maxine as she appeared to try to start some small talk. Bridget politely smiled and answered "Can't say that I do, actually. The beach is my enemy." She lifted up her freckled skin and pointed to her ginger hair as if that was explanation enough before adding "I bake like a lobster. It's not a very pretty sight." She laughed, making sure to keep an eye out on the crowd. She squinted to look for Ezekiel, who seemed to be stuck in a NPC dialogue. She hoped it was going well. "What about you, much of a sailor?"

Maxine: Maxine laughed genuinely at Bridget's explanation. "Yeah, I get that," she said, motioning at her own fiery red hair. "No, not really. Sailing is kind of a big thing in my hometown. My father always tried to take me when I was a kid, but I never really go the hang of it." She shrugged slightly. Squinting she followed the other woman's gaze to where Ezekiel was still talking to the old man. "You think he's right?", she wondered out loud.

Ezekiel: After finishing the tutorial, Ezekiel didn't bother putting away the fishing rod, instead using it to help his guise as a player not on the current quest. He approached  the boat, finding another rod, some rope, a set of oars, and what looked like a basic tackle and aid kit. Ezekiel glanced around quickly to make sure no one had followed, then set to untying the yardline and anchor hoist. Just as he finished, he quickly flashed a gesture to the others waiting in the trees, then he started pushing the boat from the pier.

Bridget: Bridget laughed, taking her mind and eyes away from the crowd and Ezekiel for just a moment. "Well I guess we're about to have our own personal sailing lesson. Sucks that we can't have a loading screen. Instead we have to actually deal with this." She then looked down at her pale and freckly skin "Hope sunburn isn't a thing here..." before she looked up to notice Ezekiel gesturing towards them and pushing a boat into the water. Bridget said "Sink or swim time" before getting up to head as discretely as possible towards Ezekiel and the boat.

Maxine: "Well, let's hope we'll get to the other side safe then. Sailing is a lot harder than it looks." She pulled a face before looking up, blinking into the bright sunlight. This sure did feel real. "I'm afraid it might just be." Looking over to where Ezekiel was launching the boat, he gave the other woman a firm nod before heading down to the pier. "What took you so long?", Max asked with a teasing smirk.

Ezekiel: "Sorry, old guy was a fishing skill tutor, nothing I could do." Ezekiel breathed while hurriedly tying and untying knots. " Watch your heads with the Boom, and can someone grab the rudder?" The beam on the bottom of the sail swung wide across the boat as Ezekiel pointed to the level at the back of the small ship. Ezekiel glanced at the receding sun and asked "So who is gonna take first watch with me? I'm gonna need someone on the rudder all night if we plan on being there tomorrow afternoon. The other can use the small cabin to get some rest."

Bridget: Bridget followed Maxine to where Ezekiel was spouting off some more boat lingo. She stood there for a moment--perplexed--before eventualy getting into the boat and shrugging at the other woman. Bridget wasn't really tired so she decided to volunteer. "Sure, I'll do the watch thing. How long do you think it's going to take us to get there? There aren't any sea monsters out here or anything, right?"

Maxine: Maxine furrowed her brow, frantically trying to remember what her father told her about boats when she was little. She gave Bridget a thankful look, obviously relieved when she volunteered. "Sea monsters? You think there are sea monsters in this game?" Saying she was concerned was an understatement at this point, looking straight up frightened as she climed on board.

Ezekiel: "Alright, that should do it," mused Ezekiel as the sail filled with wind and the boat lurched forward. Ezekiel took a step back to admire his handy work before replying, "I wouldn't worry about sea monsters, the only place I've heard they exist is in an Atlantis-like quest, but you need to be able to breathe under water before the quest will allow you to start. What I would worry about is another group of players, but no one on shore seems to know how to swim." With that said, Ezekiel sat down on the side railing and started mulling over the map.

Bridget: "Well that's good." Bridget responded about the sea monsters. She wasn't ready to be drowned and/or eaten today. When the boat moved, Bridget wasn't sitting and she nearly fell out on her way down. "Jesus!" She yelled "I don't think we'll have to worry about anything with that kind of driving...er, sailing." She had hoped that the others knew what they were doing because Bridget was making it up as she went along.

Maxine: Maxine gave the sail a content look. It seemed like for now things were going good, yet she decided to keep quiet about that, trying not to jinx it. "Watch out!", she gasped, instinctively grabbing Bridget's wrist when she threatened to fall overboard. "Are you okay?" She looked over to the shore after giving Bridget a quick concerned look, just now noticing how fast they were going, judging by how far away it was already.

Ezekiel: Ezekiel had a look of contempt on his face. Based on how little wind they could feel, he estimated that they shouldn't even be moving a quarter of their current speed. "Judging by our unnatural speed, you two don't have very long to come up with our next step. We will mostly get there well before dawn breaks." Ezekiel then set to scavenging around the boat, seeing if there was anything else on board worth taking longterm.

Bridget: Bridget could do nothing more but nod in response, glad that someone cared about her wellbeing. Bridget liked to think she had a plan, but really she didn't; she was making it up as she went along. She would likely figure it out as she got there and go from there. The boat was moving a rapid speed and Ezekiel noted that it was much faster than it needed to be. "Well good, at least we won't be stuck on this boat for long..."

Maxine: "That's good, isn't it? The faster we get there, the faster we can finish this quest," Maxine offered with a shrug. To be honest, she didn't have a next step prepared. To her, it was almost a miracle that she made it this far in the first place. "So once we're in Hatun, all we need is to find a guard and ask for a translation, right?"

Ezekiel: "That's what I'm assuming." Ezekiel leveled the small telescope he found below deck at the horizon. He couldn't see anything aside from one of the npc ferries, which wasn't saying much considering how dark it was. "Either of you hungry? I've got to use the fish I caught it that tutorial before it rots."

Bridget: "That's true" Bridget nodded, hoping that they could complete the quest in time although the outcome wasn't looking good. They had started too late. "Yep, I guess just find a guard and get a translation on this thing." Bridget shrugged. When fish was mentioned, she nodded "I'm always hungry. What kind of fish is it?"