#just pick scenes and pray the coloring looks good but hey sometimes they turn out pretty like this one!

[brvceselina]

@gothamnetwork´s december event: bruce wayne

Fear is normal. in the alley where my parents were killed, I was terrified. I just stood there. There's nothing wrong with being afraid. Once you understand that it's normal, you can put it in its place, and you can act. Fight back.

[mochiikook]

my everything| jjk

⇢ pairing: jungkook x reader 

⇢ genre: angst 

⇢ word count: 2.6K 

⇢ warnings: cursing, blood 

⇢ summary: Jungkook is an emt and during his shift he gets a call about a serious car wreck and when he arrives at the scene, he notices a familiar car. Your car.

⇢ A/N: i’d like to thank grey’s anatomy for preparing me for this ask, enjoy!

© mochiikook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

The loud buzzing and shifting next to you had stirred you out of your sleep. You groaned and reached over to pull your fiancé closer to you. “Don't go” you mumbled into his back, he turned around to face you and grabbed your chin to make you look at him. “I have to, my love.” You pout as you hold onto him a little tighter. He stifles a laugh before saying, “y/n, baby, I’m going to be late and if I’m late I’ll get fired and if I’m fired how am I going to pay for our wedding.” You pout before answering, “I’ll pay for it, all of it. Just stay here with me.” You feel Jungkook shake in laughter as he replies, “I would never let you do that baby.” He kisses your forehead as you loosen your grip on him and he slips out of your grip. “I’ll be back before you know it, love.” Your hand grips the sheets on his side of the bed as you fall back into your slumber.

The buzzing of an alarm woke you up, your alarm. With a groan, you reached up to feel for your phone on the nightstand. Tapping the phone blindly as you try to turn off the blaring noise before finally lifting your head up out of the pillow you stuffed it in and turned it off. With a sigh, you got up and headed to the bathroom to do your daily routine as you got ready for the interview you had that was willing to pay you big time. You didn't mention this to Jungkook, fearing that you might not get the job you didn't want to get his hopes up. Nothing breaks your heart more than to see a sad Jungkook. Although he would try to hide it, you see past his facade as if he was transparent.

You zipped up your pantsuit and put on your blazer as you checked yourself out in the mirror, the white blouse going well with your navy blazer and pants. Before leaving the house you gave yourself a pep talk. “You can do this y/n, you’re perfectly qualified for this job, nobody is more skilled in this position than you are. You have tons of experience, god, please bring it up. Don't stutter and don't get lost in your words, take your time and breathe before you answer their questions. Got it? Good. Now let’s go kick some ass and get rich.” You let out a breath before leaving the apartment, your heels clicking as you made your way to the elevator and down to the garage where your car awaits.

Unlocking your car, you step in and turn it on. Before you start driving out of the garage you connect your phone to the bluetooth and play your songs to hype you up for the stressing interview. You had worked so hard to get here and you knew you could do it, but sometimes the nerves just ate you up inside. Starting the car, you backed up out of your parking spot and made your way onto the streets.

Blasting your music, your favorite song to pick you up came on and you instantly sang with it as you maneuvered your way onto the highway.

(song: Rose Golden by Kid Cudi)

“Since I was young, been grooving to my own drum

ain't that many teachers, showed me my potential

felt like a failure mama said you know better

Future in my hands God, She had a plan

stronger than I know soon I’d understand

The power I possess, the story of the chosen”

“WOAH, jeez buddy watch where you're going!” you screamed to the car that just cut you off but was so close to crashing into you. As the exit got closer you switched your lanes carefully however the truck that was in the next lane did not see you as it changed lanes. It made contact with your car and before you had any time to react your car flipped over at the impact, skidding a couple hundred feet on the pavement. Your windows shattered and the glass shards cut into your skin.

It seemed as if time stopped, you couldn't hear anything except for a ringing which you assumed was because of the impact. Cars stopped next to you and a man crouched down next to your, now shattered, window. He was saying something but you couldn’t hear anything. You tried to speak but nothing came out except for a weak, “h-help.” Everything was pounding, lifting your hand you touched your head but soon pulled away as you felt a gooey substance. Blood.

JUNGKOOK’S POV

Sitting around at the fire department, Jungkook kept a conversation with his fellow paramedics.

“I should have called in sick today, it’s so slow.” I groaned to Dave, who was basically my mentor now. “Hey hey hey kid, never say that. Whenever someone says that-” He was soon cut off by a blaring alarm. “MEDICAL EMERGENCY TRUCKS NUMBER 49, 51, 70 RESPOND TO HIGHWAY 7 ACCIDENT MULTIPLE CAR PILE UP” Quickly getting up as the alarm sounded they hopped into their truck and left to the given location provided by dispatch. “Never say that again kid, something will always happen” Dave finishes. I nodded, “Noted.”

Pulling up to the scene, I see a familiar colored car in the middle of it all. “No.” I mutter under my breath. Dave turns to look at me, “C’mon kid we need to save lives.” I couldn't do anything. I was frozen, I prayed to God it's not who I think it is. My stomach churned as we stepped closer to the car. My heart dropped, Dave noticed me stop walking and turned to look at me. “What the hell is the matter with you.” I couldn’t even answer, all I saw was the hand. The hand that was lying on the pavement. Lifeless. Before I knew what I was doing I was running. It's like I didn't have control of my body. Something took over me and I found myself kneeled next to the driver's side where I saw the love of my life struggling to breathe “Y/N Y/N CAN YOU HEAR ME!” I feel Dave rush next to me, “Kid you need to step aside.” He put his hand on my shoulder to get me up but I shrugged it off, holding onto y/n’s hand tighter. With my other hand, I felt around for a pulse. Yes, yes yes god she was still alive, but barely. “I’m not leaving her, I can’t.” Dave sighed before waving down the firefighters to get their help in taking the car door out so we can get her out safely. “Kid, you need to let go of her so they can get through.” I shook my head and something fell on my hand. Water? I reached up to my eyes. I was crying. No, I was sobbing and I didn't even realize.

Before I could do anything, I was ripped away from her. “LET GO OF ME, SHE NEEDS ME, I NEED TO BE NEXT TO HER! LET GO!” I scream as they dragged me away from her. I watched from afar, not being able to do anything. I was useless. I’m doing nothing but sobbing over the love of my life. Once they put her on the gurney, I ripped myself out of the grip the 2 firefighters held me in. I ran to her side and took her hand. “Baby? Baby? Can you hear me? Y/n, honey look at me, stay awake baby. Stay awake, okay?”

Her eyes shifted to look into mine. I hated seeing her like this, I should have been in her place. I’d do anything to take away her pain. Her mouth moved but I couldn't hear what she was saying, “Baby what? What are you trying to say? Don't speak right now, love. You need to save your energy.” I said as I walked with the gurney. We loaded it onto the ambulance and I sat next to her as we left for the hospital. Not wanting to let go of her hand. I couldn’t and I won't. She’s in a critical condition and Dave did everything he could to keep her stable while we waited to reach the hospital. My leg bouncing up and down wanting this ride to go faster. It had to go faster. I can't lose her. Not now, not ever.

We arrived at the nearest hospital, and thank god. What felt like an hour was actually just 5 minutes. Still, not fast enough. We pulled the gurney out, or rather they did, my hand never left hers as I kept up with the doctors who were rushing her to the nearest operating room. “Sir we’re going to need you to let go now.” How could they possibly tell me to do that? “Sir! She’s in critical condition if you want her to heal, you're going to have to let go.” I nodded and kissed her forehead, “I love you baby, please don’t leave me, stay strong for me.” I let go of her hand and the doctors rushed her into the operating room. The nurses showed me to the waiting room. “How long do you think it’ll take?” I asked one of the nurses. “I don't know honey, but if I had to guess, it would take a couple hours.” I nodded before sitting down in one of the chairs.

Sitting in the waiting room just made me wonder if I’ll ever get to hold her again. No. Jungkook don't think about that. She’s going to be fine. She’s going to come out of the operating room alive and I’ll get to hold her in my arms again and we’ll forget this ever happened and we’ll get married and have 2 -no- 3 children and she’ll be a great mom and we’ll be happy. Right?

My leg kept bobbing up and down and I had stayed in this chair for 5 hours, how long would this take? My other coworkers had left a couple of hours ago, but Dave stayed. “Why don't you try and get some sleep, kid.” He said as he rubbed my back with support. “I can’t,” I responded as I stared at the wall like it was my enemy. “You can't or you won't?” He rebutted, I turned to look at him, silently answering his question. “Alright, I’ll go get you some coffee then.”

As soon as he came back with the coffee, a doctor emerged out of where she was. I stood up faster than light and went to him. “Well?” I questioned the man that had his hands in my fiancée. “It was touch and go for a while, but she’ll be okay.” I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding. “Oh thank god, thank you thank you thank you.” I chanted as I broke down in tears while I hugged the doctor that just saved her. He patted my back gently and I let go. “She’s still under anesthesia but she should be awake soon.” He finished off his report. “Can I see her?” I asked, he nodded and told me to follow him. I looked to Dave who smiled and handed me the coffee cup, “You're going to need it, I know you're not going to sleep until you see her eyes open.” I took the cup and gave him a hug, “Thank you for staying with me, you should go home and rest.” He patted my back and nodded. “Call me if anything happens.” I nodded and let go and went to follow the doctor. I walked next to him and asked for his name since I hadn't asked. “My name is Namjoon Kim.” I nodded, “Thank you, again, for saving her Dr. Kim.” He smiled and opened the door that led to her room and there she was, lying in the bed that was surely uncomfortable. Tears sprung to my eyes as I pulled a chair out to sit next to her. Wires attached to her and her head bandaged. I took her hand and Dr. Kim closed the door and left me with her. “You scared me, baby. So bad. I thought I was going to lose you.” I brought her hand up to kiss the back of it before letting it rest on the bed as I put my other hand on top tracing soft shapes. I let my head rest on the mattress and let out a sigh and before I knew it my eyes closed and I dozed off.

Y/N’S POV

I felt the sun’s rays on my face and something warm on my hand. Ugh, owww why does everything hurt? What happened? All I remember was driving to my interview and then- oh. The accident. Fuck. I pried my eyes open slowly and was blinded by the lights. Jeez, do they have to be that bright? Once I fully opened my eyes, I looked to my hand where I felt the warmth. Jungkook. That has to be an uncomfortable position, he's going to strain his neck. How long has he been like that? I squeezed his hand in hopes of waking him up but to no avail. I should have known he wouldn't wake up to that, he's such a heavy sleeper. I went to move my arms and fuck it hurt like a bitch but I can't let it stay still, I need to have mobility, I need to regain my strength. I lifted my free arm and ran it through his hair, gently tugging on it to wake him up. “Jungkook. Jungkook wake up, baby wake up.” My throat felt hoarse as I spoke and I felt him stirring underneath my fingers and he lifted his head. It took him a few seconds to realize before scrambling to lock me in a tight hug “Y/N YOU'RE AWAKE!” I hissed in pain and he instantly let go. “Shit, sorry sorry, are you okay? Should I call Dr. Kim? I should call Dr. Kim to let him know you're awake.” He rambled as he pressed a button that alerted the nurses, I think? “Just shut up and kiss me.” His eyes widened in shock at my tone but complied with my request and his lips met mine. The kiss was passionate, sure we had others like this, but this felt different. I could feel all of his emotions, the fear, the sadness, and the blame that he was putting onto himself.

We parted and a doctor walked in, which I assumed to be the one he was talking about, Dr. Kim. “Hello Y/N, I’m Dr. Kim glad you’re back.” He said with a smile as he sat down on the stool next to the monitors. “I need to draw blood for some tests and you need to stay here for a couple of days while we monitor your condition and then you should be good to go.” He said as he prepped my arm for the needle. I nodded and let him do his thing and turned my attention back to Jungkook who was already looking at me. I smiled and squeezed his hand to reassure him that I’m okay. “Thank you for staying with me.” I told him. “What, are you kidding? I’d never leave you.” He responded and my heart beat a little faster at his words. My eyes couldn't leave his, I didn't even realize Dr. Kim had left. I just stayed focused on him. My everything.

[bluezey]

Inside Onward - Dream Duty

I think you guys are going to like this one.  So far the emotions are following what happens in the movie.  But this chapter, this doesn’t happen in the movie.  That’s right, this chapter is 100% original to the story.  Consider it a deleted scene from Onward, all thanks to Ian’s emotions.  And I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did, cause after I was done writing this, I needed a good cry and the biggest hug from both my Fear and Ian dolls.

Thankfully, and finally, things were becoming uneventful.  Ian and Barley were driving down a bumpy, unpaved road into an untamed wilderness that’s been hardly touched for decades in the darkness of night, but other than that, uneventful.  They’ll be safe inside Guinevere, right?

Fear was overlooking the short term memory shelves, a task he ritually does every night before Ian falls asleep.  He was jotting down notes in his little notepad, noting and checking the memories of key events throughout Ian’s day.  He also made a note of how there were a lot of purple memories at the start of Ian’s day, but throughout the evening it became less and less.  Sure, he was in charge a lot, he still as a job to do.  But seeing more colors, more signs that his coworkers have helped Ian, maybe this is a sign that he’s on the right track.

“Hey Fear?” Disgust asked, approaching the purple emotion from behind.

“Whuh!”  Fear fumbled to grab his notepad in midair, but had to bend over for his pen.

Disgust couldn’t help but cross his arms and roll his eyes.  “Hmph, you are so jumpy.”

“Heh heh, thanks?” Fear said as he stood up, holding his notepad in front of him like a security blanket.

“Speaking of that,” Disgust continued,” that’s what I wanted to say… thanks.”

Fear was taken aback by that.  Disgust was being nice to him?  Well, he was still snarky, but the green emotion’s tone was less snippy.  “Thanks?”

“Yeah, you’re welcome.” Disgust smirked, brushing a loose stand of hair back in place.  “But seriously, I’ve noticed you’ve been acting different tonight.  Okay, you’re still a frightened little scaredy dragon, but I’ve noticed you trying to hold back and let us on the console some more.  You’re even letting us share it sometimes.  You’re still not good at it, but you’re doing better.  So, my point is, keep at it.”  Disgust leaned in and smoothed out a wrinkle on Fear’s sweat shirt.  “And try fabric softener next time.”

Fear was silent as he watched Disgust walk away on that prideful saunter of his.  Disgust was still acting like Disgust, but he almost said a compliment to Fear!  Maybe… maybe things are getting better.  As he thought this, Fear caught Anger walking by.  “Hey, Anger,” he smiled and waved.

Anger gave the most judgmental sneer as he stormed by.  “grrrrrrrr……..”

Fear nearly sank as he stepped back in fright.  Okay, maybe things aren’t getting better.

“Uh oh,” Joy reported playfully, noting the vitals on the console.  “Looks like sleepyhead can’t keep his eyes open any longer.”

“Okay gang,” Fear announced. “Let’s get Ian somewhere safe to sleep. We need him well rested for when he meets dad tomorrow.”

“Ugh, how is going to sleep in this dirty old van?” Disgust thought aloud.  “And he has no comb or toothbrush.  He’s going to be a total mess tomorrow.  I can’t let that happen!”

Sadness helped Ian into the back of the van as Joy pointed out a small bench in the back they can sleep on.  Joy patted Sadness’s back and left the console, Sadness alone to help Ian settle in on the narrow plank as best as he could.  Joy approached Fear as he was passing by the recall tube.  “Hey, great birthday so far, right?” Joy said to Fear cheerfully.

Fear chuckled nervously, but his smile was genuine.  “Yeah. Unforgettable.”

“Hey, don’t give the forgetters down in long term any ideas,” Joy joked.

“Oh they better not forget these memories,” Fear replied, his fearful side showing through more. “These are very good memories we made today.”

“Dang right, they are,” Joy said before asking, “So, you’re on dream duty tonight, right?”

“Yup, Ian should be hitting R.E.M. any minute now,” Fear commented as he looked up at the screen, watching as Ian’s eyelids fall heavier with every blink.  “You guys should go get ready for bed.”

“Actually,” Joy replied, “the other emotions and I have been talking, and we think we should sleep on the floor tonight.”

Fear’s face fell, his nerves rising.  “You’ve… been talking about me?”

“No, not you,” Joy replied, trying to calm Fear’s worries.  “We’ve just been thinking that today has been pretty eventful, and we should be nearby so we can get back to work when Ian wakes up.  Don’t worry, we’ll be right on those couches over there,” Joy pointed to the couches.  “We’ll be right there if you need us.”

“Okay,” was all Fear could manage as Joy ran off.  But, inside, he was feeling less okay than he felt just moments ago.

Sadness watched as Ian’s eyes closed and remained closed, leaving the screen blank.  “We’re asleep,” Sadness reported.

“Good job, gang,” Fear said as he tapped his foot on a button by the recall tube, sending the memories cascading from their shelves and rolling into the various recall tubes into long term memory.  “Let’s get some sleep.  Ian has an even bigger day ahead tomorrow.”

The other emotions chatted to each other as they both settled in on the couches.  Fear took that moment to leave for the break room, making a quick cup of soothing tea to enjoy during dream duty.  When he returned, he found Headquarters was quiet and dormant.  The short term memory shelves were empty, and the memories were flying off into long term memory through the recall tubes.  Anger, Joy, Sadness and Disgust were curled up together on the couches.  Sadness lying flat on his back, Anger sleeping in a sitting position with his hands folded over his abdomen, Disgust with his head and legs propped up on some pillows, and Joy curled up in a cherub like fetal position, his hands tucked under his grinning face.  Fear crossed the floor and gently placed his mug on the edge of the console.

Fear then took that moment to quietly panic to himself.  What am I doing, he practically screamed inside his head.  He threw his head back, his knees practically buckled as he shoved the palms of his hands against his tightened shut eyes, his nerve twisted up into a ball nestled into his blue hair.  After giving a big, irate, terrified groan through his grit teeth, Fear finally broke from his melodramatic stance and began to ritualistically pace back and forth by the console, his hands gripping tightly at his sides.

Things couldn’t be falling apart any further if they tried!  Ian had the worst birthday ever, and let’s not forget how his birth night has been!  Magic gifts! Half a dad!  Fiery Manticores!  Car chases!  Blood thirsty pixie dusters!  And who was the liar??  Was Joy the liar?  How could that be possible?  Joy must be the only emotion in Ian’s head who loves Barley the most, and can genuinely tolerate him.  What about Disgust, or Anger?  Even Sadness doesn’t like Barley that much.  But, none of them were at the console when the spell failed.  And why was Family Island lit up?  Ian tolerates his big brother too, and the yellow core memory powering Family Island, including the statue of Ian and Barley, proves it.  So why was it lit up?  And what was Fear thinking??  Agreeing to take the Path of Peril??  For crying out loud, it’s called the Path of Peril!!  It couldn’t be more blatant of a stop sign if the name was emblazoned on a bright red octagon!!

Fear froze in his tracks as the projector whirred to life from the console, displaying a live broadcast from Dream Productions.  Well, looks like Fear can focus on dream duty instead, for now.  Fear took a sip of his tea as he watched from behind the console.

Onscreen began one of the usual dreams Ian commonly had.  It was nighttime, the sky was clear and littered with bright stars.  Ian was on a cliff that was overlooking a steep drop into the sea.  Okay, not literally on a cliff, Ian was safely away from the cliff so all he could hear was the ocean waves.  As well as crickets, the crickets sounded a little louder than the waves tonight. Sound mixing must be getting their act together down in Dream Productions.

Ian was busying himself with a telescope, overlooking the stars.  After looking into the telescope for a brief moment, Ian adjusted the focus, looked again, adjusted the tracking, looked again.  He caught a shooting star flash by, so fast he could have missed it if he blinked.  He stood up and made a note in his notebook before going to the front of the telescope to check on a few things.

Fear smiled, he took another sip of his tea.  He liked these stargazing dreams.  Relaxing, uneventful.  And they didn’t easily turn into nightmares like those dreams at school usually do.

Ian turned and left his telescope so he can bend over and pick up a star atlas out of his book bag. As he turned back to approach his telescope, he paused, his eyes slowly grew in wonder.  Instead of the telescope, there stood a wizard staff. It was sticking humbly out of the ground, but stood straight and proud, as the warm glow of an orange gem began to light the night around them.  Though it was still night, the sky began to illuminate like the recent dusk of sunset.

Fear looked at the screen, both curious and worried of where this is going.

Random selection of stars began to glow and drift slowly yet gracefully from the night sky.  They floated both aimlessly like feathers, but with direction like fireflies.  One by one, the stars gathered in the open between Ian and the wizard staff, as Ian silently watched in awe.  The stars gathered into a collective of light, which gradually took shape, and faded into the form of a familiar stranger.

Dad.

Fear was in as much wonder as Ian was, both praying that it wasn’t a dream.  Fear slowly approached the screen, as slowly as Ian approached his dad.  With each step, it as if Fear could feel their wish that this was real growing, as if he was stepping ever nearer to reality, with the burdened truth that he would never reach it.  But in the dream world, anything could happen.  Thankfully, the miraculous, graceful and forgiving side of the dream world was unfolding tonight.

Fear stopped just inches from the screen, looking as if he was standing in the field right beside Ian, as Ian was standing just inches from his dad.  After the longest pause, it felt like a minute short of eternity, Ian collapsed into dad’s welcoming, loving hug.  Ian squeezed tight as he could, never wanting to let go, letting his tears fall if they must and stain dad’s sleeve.

A little sniffle was heard, but Fear knew that sound didn’t come from the dream.  He gave Ian the biggest smile as he placed his hand on the screen, looking like he placed his hand on Ian’s shoulder.  

“Not much longer, Ian,” Fear whispered to Ian.  “Tomorrow, you’ll finally see your dad.  And you’ll finally be the person you were meant to be.” Fear gave a smile with the least amount of worry and timidness that he ever gave in his life.  “I promise.”

In the van, Ian rolled over into a more comfortable position on the narrow bench.  It appeared a small smile was on his face.

[ryqoshay]

Happy Life: How to Walk a Familiar

Primary Pairing: YohaRiko Words: ~2k Rating: G AU: Angelic? Time Frame: Sometime during their college years Story Arc: Stand Alone

Author’s Note: Someday I’ll get back to the other YohaRiko scenes I’ve started, including the one that this one was supposed to be...

“Ne, Yocchan!” Riko called as she left her room on her way to the living room, her pug in tow.

“What’s up, Riri?” Yoshiko responded as she paused her game.

“I’m going to take Prelude for a walk. Want to come with us?”

“Definitely!” The blue-haired girl made to jump up from the couch before realizing there was a purring furball in her lap. “Uhm… one moment… Sorry, Phobetor.” She nudged the cat gently in an attempt to have him leave of his own volition.

For his part, Phobetor took his time getting to his feet and stretching with a sizable yawn before stepping down onto the cushion beside Yoshiko. He glanced among the other three occupants of the apartment as though trying to determine the purpose of his nap being interrupted.

“We’ll be back in a little bit.” Yoshiko assured, patting the kitten’s head before moving toward the entryway.

“Merow!” Phobetor uttered, rubbing up against Yoshiko’s leg as she knelt to tie her shoe.

“Be a good boy while we’re out.” Yoshiko responded, petting her cat. She frowned, however, when the meowing continued as she stood. “We’ll be back before you know it.” She assured.

Phobetor switched tactics and moved toward Prelude, bunting against her while his vocalizations became more pleading.

“C’mon, Prelude.” Riko started to open the door and was about to step out when she felt resistance at the other end of the leash. “Prelude?” She turned to find her puppy sitting squarely in place. “Do you think we should let him come with us, Yocchan?” Riko inquired of her girlfriend.

“I’d like to bring him.” Yoshiko admitted. “But I don’t know how we would do that. I haven’t even bought a collar for him as I wasn’t expecting to take him anywhere other than the vet on occasion. I should probably get one…”

“Hrm…” Riko considered, watching the protesting pets for a moment. “I wonder if…” She trailed off as she closed the front door and opened the closet instead. “Ah, here we go.” She said after a minute or two of searching. “I wonder if Prelude’s old collar will fit?”

“Maybe? It looks a little big.” Yoshiko took the collar and knelt. Phobetor immediately stopped yowling and moved to sit in front of her. “Usually owners use harnesses on cats because they’re harder to get out of and there is less risk of the cat choking. Huh, just barely. Still pretty loose...” She commented as she used the last hole in the leather to secure the collar.

“Perhaps we can add a stop at the pet store to our route.” Riko said, holding out a spare leash. “Maybe Ryoushi-kun will be there and can meet him?” She mentioned the name of their favorite associate.

“Sounds good.” Yoshiko agreed as she attached the leash to her cat’s collar. “You’ll be a good boy and not pull out of this, right? We just need to make it to the store and we’ll get you one that fits better and a proper harness. Oh, and a nametag too!” She knocked her knuckles atop her head. “I don’t know why I didn’t think to get one earlier.”

“Well we haven’t really let him out…” Riko tried to reason.

“Yeah, but there was always a risk that he could have gotten out at some point.” Yoshiko lamented. “I don’t want anyone thinking he’s a stray anymore now that we’ve given him a good home.”

As if responding to her change in mood, Phobetor ran himself against her hand, earning a couple pets.

“Well, better late than never, right?” Riko offered. “Anyway, we should head out so we have enough time to get to the park and back in time for dinner. Let’s go get Phobetor a tag worthy of his status as Yohane’s familiar.”

That seemed the brighten the younger girl’s mood. “Indeed!” She jumped up. “A fallen angel’s familiar deserves nothing but the best!”

Riko smiled and opened the door again to lead everyone out.

“Ah, Riko-san, Yohane-sama.” A boy greeted the two girls as they moved down the store aisle. “Good to see you as always.” He knelt and produced a small treat as their dog hurried over to him. “Welcome back, Prelude-chan.” He smiled as he patted the pug before standing again.

“Hi, Ryoushi-kun.” Riko returned the greeting.

The young man’s attention turned to Yoshiko’s shoulder. “Pray tell, might this be the legendary familiar for which Yohane-sama hath sung many a praise?”

Yoshiko grinned. “Thou hath a keen eye, Choukyoushi!” She intoned. “Indeed, this day, Yohane hath summoned forth my most faithful of servants to honor you with his presence! Meet Phobetor!”

The cat reached out a paw and leaned forward as though to jump.

“He loves meeting new people.” Yoshiko explained as her voice returned to normal.

“Well it is indeed an honor to finally meet you in person, Phobetor-kun.” Ryoushi replied, taking the kitten into his arms. “Let’s see what I have for good little familiars.” He shifted the cat to cradle him in one arm so he could retrieve another treat from his apron. “Are you four here for normal restocking or for something specific?” He turned his attention back to the two humans.

“Phobetor wants to join us when we walk Prelude,” Riko spoke up “so we need a harness for him.”

“And since we’re here, I want to get a proper collar and tag for him.” Yoshiko added.

Ryoushi nodded. “I believe we can find ones that will suit him.” With that said, he turned and lead the way with Phobetor still purring in his arms.

“Yocchan, look” Riko said soon after the group had found the display “doesn’t that one look a little like the symbol you used during our time with Aqours?”

Yoshiko leaned in to inspect the tag in question. “It does!” She cried excitedly, pulling it from the rack. “Good find, Riri! Ne, Choukyoushi, can you etch a demon face on this?”

“Our machine does have a custom setting.” The store associate confirmed. “Let me show you how to use it.” He lead them to the device at the end of aisle where he pulled up an image representing the tag.

Yoshiko hummed happily to herself as she used the touch screen to draw eyes and a fanged mouth on the digital blank.

“Alright, now use this button to flip it over.” Ryoushi explained. “Then type his name in the upper box and your address in the lower one. Perfect. Now while this does its thing, go ahead and pick out a collar to put it on.”

“Back in a moment, Phobetor.” Yoshiko called to her cat before practically skipping away.

Riko and Prelude followed at a more normal pace. By the time they caught up, Yoshiko was already inspecting a collar in her hand.

“Is black really a good color?” Riko inquired. “Phobetor’s fur is black, so won’t the collar blend in too much?”

“Hrm…” Yoshiko pondered.

“Maybe this grey one will stand out better?” The redhead selected a different one. “Grey was your color as an idol after all.”

“Riri makes a good point. Alright. I’ll get this one.” The blue-haired girl took the offered collar. “Phobetor!” She called, moving back to the end of the aisle. “Look at what I got for you!”

Phobetor looked over from his position on Ryoushi’s shoulder and cocked his head to the side with curiosity. He seemed fine until Yoshiko reached toward him, at which point he turned his head away.

“Just let me get the old one…” Yoshiko said.

The cat eluded his master’s hands again before retreating to Ryoushi’s other shoulder.

“Phobetor.” Yoshiko chided.

Another attempt was made to remove the old collar but this time, Phobetor jumped down and scampered over to Prelude, pressing in against the larger dog as though using her as a shield.

Yoshiko handed the new collar to Ryoushi before kneeling down in front of the two animals. “Are you sure you want to keep that one? It might be a little heavy for a while and loose until you grow into it.” She asked, reaching a hand forward and smiling as her cat stepped forward cautiously but eventually rubbed against her palm. She looked up at her girlfriend. “Can he keep this one?”

Riko chuckled. “Of course. He seems to like it.”

Yoshiko grinned and stood. “We’ll put the tag on the collar he has now.” She announced to Ryoushi as though it wasn’t already obvious.

“Alright.” The associate replied, popping the small metal plate out of the etching device. “Here you go.” He handed over the tag as well as a pair of pliers.

“It came out perfect.” Yoshiko marveled at the design. “Here, Phobetor, will you at least let me put this on that collar? If you want to go out with us, you need some sort of identification.” She knelt again in front of the cat.

This time, Phobetor did not retreat, instead he lifted his chin to allow easier access.

“Good boy.” Yoshiko praised as she opened the jumper ring attached to the tag, secured it to the collar and bent it back into place. “There we g- oh, hey…” She caught her cat as he jumped up into her arms. Giggling, she scratched him behind his ears.

“Shall we look at harnesses next?” Riko inquired.

“Those are right here on the other side from the collars.” Ryoushi pointed out. “Let’s size one out for him.”

“I think Phobetor likes his new gear.” Riko commented as she watched their cat strut proudly beside their dog.

“Definitely.” Yoshiko agreed. “I’m so glad he can join us for our family walks like this.”

“As am I.” Riko agreed. Though not just for his sake, she thought to herself as she also took pleasure in seeing her girlfriend this happy.

“So, we’re headed to the park next?” Yoshiko inquired as the group came to a stop at a crosswalk.

Riko nodded. “I figured we could toss a ball a few times for Prelude and just enjoy the weather for a bit before we head back.”

“Alright. Oh, the light chang- eh?” Yoshiko paused with her foot a few centimeters off the ground as their cat suddenly jumped onto their dog’s leash. “Phobetor wha-?”

A box truck careened through the intersection against the red light, plowing through the crosswalk where the four of them would had been had they stepped forward. Yoshiko’s leg came down awkwardly and she overcorrected her balance backward, tipping herself over in the process. She landed roughly, but otherwise safely on the sidewalk.

“What jus… Riri, are you alright?!” Yoshiko looked up frantically to see her girlfriend frozen in shock.

“I’m… f-fine…” Riko’s movements were like a marionette with missing strings as she reached down to help the other girl back to her feet.

“Did Phobetor… just stop us from being isakai’d?” Yoshiko stared at the cat who was now playing with the leash that had been dropped.

Phobetor rolled onto his back held the braided nylon with is front paws while biting it and kicking at it with his back legs, seeming to be completely oblivious to the reactions of the two girls.

The chuckle that escaped Riko’s lips from her girlfriend’s bad joke felt odd, yet somehow still managed to ease some of her tension. She swallowed before asking. “Are you okay, Yocchan?”

“Well, either my familiar has a strange way of saving us, or the luck of my angel ascended did the trick.” Yoshiko knelt to retrieve Prelude’s leash. “But so long as Riri and her familiars are alright, so is Yohane.”

Of course, Yoshiko would be calmer about the situation, Riko realized, this was by no means her first close call. Heck, she fell off a balcony back in high school and was back to normal in moments, or at least as much as normal applied to her.

Something stirred in the back of Riko’s mind, but when she tried to focus on it, it was gone. Same as always.

“Shall we go?”

Yoshiko’s voice pulled Riko back to reality and she looked down to see the other girl holding out her dog’s leash.

“Right…” Riko replied, taking the handle as the four of them resumed their walk.

Author’s Note Continued in Followup Post

[thisisthestoryofanotherus]

Tranquility- CH

A/n: I love Duke....and Calum....anywho...Hey guys! So this was a piece I was working on for #disabledsos I think I’m late but still wanted to do something. Click here for the original link. Honestly this is one of the reasons I love 5sosfam so much, this group is helping raise awareness to fans with disabilities, chronic conditions, medical illnesses etc.. They help make everyone feel included, and with this project we’re trying to spread representation. We all want to be Y/n…but sometimes its hard to picture ourselves as the reader when they are nothing like us. I decided to start with the reader being blind and read about people’s actual experiences and guide dogs, etc. trying to get perspective. This really got me thinking, and I really want to expand my writing to reach more readers of different backgrounds, so let me know what you think and any requests!

In addition to this, I may continue the story I’m not sure yet, but also having a whole event today. Send in requests for blurbs, mtls, reactions, opinions, thoughts on CALM, whatever! I’ll be here all day today getting to know you guys so please go on over to my ask box here!

Warnings: none? Dogs? Idk lol

Word Count: 1,143 ... not bad kinda short sorry

Sitting at your favorite park bench, coffee in hand, you knew it was autumn. You felt the cool breeze against your face, heard the rustle of leaves under the boots of people walking past, saw the scatter of red and yellow light against the trees in front of you. You knew this park so well you could almost see the scene in front of you. Almost… This was a favorite park of yours when you were younger, before you lost your sight that is. From what your sister told you, not much has changed. So, although you could almost see the park in your head, the reality was you really only saw bits of light and colors. Almost like someone painted what was in front of you, then started moving the brush dripping in black paint randomly across the canvas, completely mixing the colors and obscuring the image. At first adjustment was hard, but you made a life for yourself all on your own. All you had to do was approach things just a little differently.

You took another sip of your coffee as you patted the top of your trusty guide dogs head who lied on the ground beside you, enjoying your early morning. With all the stress from work and school it was nice to just sit and breathe. Your thoughts, and tranquility, were interrupted with the sound of barking, and someone screaming “DUUKKEE”. Next thing you knew there was a smaller dog jumping back and forth from your lab’s back to your knee. You dropped your coffee in surprise, praying the hot liquid hadn’t landed on either dog. From the lack of a bark or yelp, you assured yourself they were fine as you turned your attention to the pleasant surprise. As you pat the new dogs head, it left slobbery kisses all over your hand. You wish you had worn gloves, but the ball of fluff was too cute to push away.

“DUKE! Leave the poor girl alone, come here! I am so sorry… I took of his leash to fix his collar and then whhooom he was gone. He’s not bothering you is he?” A man’s voice asked, you heard him approach and pick up the poor dog, Duke you now knew. You heard your own dog Max whine a little at his new friend being taken away. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“No he’s fine! Though if you had come any later he may have licked me to death” He began to laugh too at your words, a deep chuckle that left you feeling warm despite the morning chill.  You felt him sit beside you on the bench, and from the sound of metal clinking you guessed Duke was getting his leash put back on. Although no longer a peaceful morning, you were happy for the company. This stranger seemed nice and funny…and well you had a weakness for dogs.

“Ya this is Duke. He’s a little troublemaker and getting into stuff. He’s a sweetheart, but he could learn a few things from your dog here. What’s this one’s name…” As his voice cut out and dropped a few octaves, you guessed he finally noticed the red vest on your dog. Preparing yourself for the worst, you sighed, knowing whatever moment you both had was gone. Too bad, you were enjoying the conversation.

“This is Max. Yes, its okay if you pet him right now, I don’t mind since we’re just sitting here, and before you ask I’m blind that’s what he’s helping me with.”

“O-oh, ok.” He then laughed, you couldn’t tell from amusement or nervousness. “You must get a lot of questions. Hey Max…how you doing buddy?”

You felt Max’s tail hit your leg…repeatedly. “He likes you”

“Well thank goodness. I love dogs.”

“I would hope so if you own one” you laughed, trying to ease the tension, grateful when he began to laugh as well.

“Very true! He’s my baby, but I promise you I’m not the bad parent you probably think I am. I’m Calum by the way”

“Y/n” You said extending your hand. You felt his warm, calloused hands wrap around your own as he shook your hand, lingering just a second longer. He only let go when he heard the barking of his dog, who had begun pawing at your leg trying to get down from the bench. Max started making noises too, curious as to who these new strangers were and wanting to play. He set Duke down with a “be good” and returned his attention to you.

“Y/n…” He said, as if testing the sound of your name. “Um, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable or anything I just-“

“Hey it’s fine. You really didn’t do anything, like you said I’m used to a lot of questions and people treating me weird when they realize these stylish shades actually have purpose”

“I have to say you pull them off nicely. And I’m sorry that must be hard…”

“Eh you get used to it. Just thank you so much for not yelling”

“Why would I yell?”

“If I had a dime for every time someone started practically shouting at me when they found out I lost sight I’d be hella rich. Like they assume I’m deaf too. It would be hilarious if it wasn’t so annoying.”

“Haha…oh my gosh that’s terrible”

“Yeah…but not as bad as others asking if I need to feel their face to identify them. As if my sight moved from my eyes to my fingertips…I think that’s the worst one” You laughed

“And here I was gonna ask you to put your hands on my face so you know how good-looking I am”

Jokingly, you put your arm out aiming for his shoulder, trying to ignore the feel of his biceps, as you managed to find the side of his face. “Ah let me guess…tall, dark, and handsome?”

“Correct! I’m 6’1”, black hair, tan skin, and incredibly handsome. Wow and here you had me thinking this wouldn’t work!”

You both laughed, it was a long time since you had laughed this much. A long time since you felt this comfortable with someone. A long time that someone didn’t start treating you weird, and could actually laugh about your hardships. You wish you could have stayed here, but of course reality set in. Your alarm went off, alerting you of your next appointment.

“Great…I’m sorry I have to go. I’ve got this meeting to get to. It was nice talking to you Calum”

“Yeah…you too Y/n. It’s a small park, maybe I’ll see you around?”

“I try to walk Max here in the mornings around this time…so maybe”

You smiled and waved goodbye to the stranger Calum as you made your way out of the park, wondering when the next time you’d see him would be…

[gaycrouton]

oh my goodddd i loved your underwear fic and would be so happy if you ever decided to continue it

Thank you so much!! For those that didn’t see it, a while back ago I posted this fic called Lingerie. Here are a few more random bonus takes!

Lingerie Bonus:

I

“Scully?”

“Hm?”

“Why are you wearing your coat?” he asked, finally broaching the question that’d been on his mind for the last two hours. He’d initially not taken much notice, but then he started picking up on the way she kept trying to roll up her sleeves and failing miserably because of the bulk. He’d thought she’d just forgotten until it became overwhelmingly obvious this was a purposeful suffering she was putting herself through. he knew his new partner had some quirks, hell so did he, but this just seemed uncomfortable.

“Um, I’m just a little cold,” she shrugged. That might have passed if it weren’t for the extreme binaries working in the basement in winter came with. In this realm of the building, the heat was always either broken, leaving them to freeze, or it was overcompensating, leading them to boil. This was a boiling day and he was uncomfortable even looking at her.

“Scully,” he repeated accusatorily, not letting the lie slide.

“I’m dressed innapropriately for work,” she replied, letting her eyes fall back down to the paperwork on her desk as if to signal her indifference on the subject.

Every fibre in his body wanted to make a suggestive joke, but he was too worried about her overheating in the name of modesty. “It’s just a paperwork day,” he offered. She didn’t say anything and he followed with a sympathetic, “It can’t be that bad.”

“I’m not wearing an undershirt,” she blurted as if it was a big reveal. 

It wasn’t.

“So?” he prompted, uncertain of what was causing the issue.

“I’m wearing a thin white blouse and a black bra,” she elaborated, still not making eye contact, but not making much progress on the paper she’d been staring at.

Oh.

He laughed sympathetically and did his very best not to imagine what that looked like. “No one ever comes down here but us,” he offered.

She finally looked up at him and she looked like she was carefully trying to choose her words.

Double oh.

“I hope I’ve never made you feel uncomfortable-” he started apologetically. Was she really suffering because she thought he’d just leer at her?

She cut him off immediately as if already knowing what he was thinking. “No, it’s not you, Mulder.”

They stared at each other for a moment before awkwardly laughing off the uncomfortable situation. “I just didn’t want you to think this is how I normally dress. I didn’t even realize how noticeable it was until I took off my coat at security.”

“You can dress however you want,” he offered. At her raised eyebrow he quickly added, “I mean, what’s important is your work. I’d never judge you for whatever you choose to, or not to, wear.” He was digging himself in a hole, but based off her smile, she wasn’t mad.

She stood up and started unbuttoning her coat. “Good, because then I’d have to start being vocal about my opinions on your ties.”

He let out a little laugh before looking down at his current tie with pigs on it. “Hey, what’s wrong with my ties?” he asked before lifting his eyes back up to her.

No wonder she’d been shy. The silk blouse was nearly see through and her black bra was undoubtably visible through it. He’d taken a big glimpse of her back as she hung up her coat, but only saw the two front cups for all of one millisecond before giving her privacy and darting his eyes down to his work.

“Aside from the fact they’re tacky?” she teased goodnaturedly. He could hear the smile in her voice, but didn’t want to look at her and accidentally look down and make her regret her decision.

He was able to keep his eyes away for the whole rest of the day and for that, when the coat was back on her shoulders in preparation for the walk out, she gave him a grateful smile and an appreciative “Thank you, Mulder.”

He was proud of himself for proving that he was a good partner and would never oogle her, but later that night his thoughts kept flashing to that hint of black lace and he remembered a millesecond’s glance can go a long way with a photographic memory.

II

“Mulder! I need your help!”

The bright flash of the crime scene techs make him blink his eyes and wipe a hand over his face. He’d been here once before, when he quite literally kicked her door down to rush to the bathroom and find her fighting with Tooms.

Sometimes he liked to imagine what it’d be like for them to be the average, everyday partners. Would she have ever invited him over for a cup of coffee? Or would he have never seen the inside of Scully’s domain if it wasn’t the scene of a crime?

Wordlessly, passively listening to the ongoing conversations around him that were saying nothing more than abduction, blood, missing, is that her partner? He had to see everything - he had to make sure no stone was left unturned.

He entered forbidden domain without hesitation. Of all the times he imagined being in Scully’s bedroom-

He shook the thought from his mind and glanced analytically around the room. It was as he’d imagined: clean, orderly, feminine, so very Scully. A closet in the corner was cracked open and he mindlessly went over to it. Realistically, he knew it was his memory of her telling him about Donnie Pfaster keeping her in the closet mixed with his desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, Duane Barry was stupid and this was all a misunderstanding and he’d find her there. But, as his heart knew, as soon as he opened the door there was nothing.

Well, nothing wasn’t accurate. This was the closet that she kept her clothes and hamper in, and upon opening it he was met with a strong waft of her scent and all the clothes he’d do anything to see filled again. 

His eye was caught by a cup of a white bra dangling off the laundry basket, caught on the rim by the bridge in the middle and a matching pair of white panties sitting on top of the other dirty clothes. He swallowed thickly and felt a crashing wave of guilt for feeling like he was invading her privacy.

He needed to find her.

III

Either she didn’t hear him knock on the adjoining door or he didn’t hear her tell him to wait. His brain was too overwhelmed in this moment to actually know which it was.

All he knew was that he just walked into see Scully on all fours with her ass in the air towards him as she looked under her bed for something. That in and of itself would have been enough to kill him, but she was currently in the middle of getting dressed and all she was wearing was her underwear. Which, he was eternally greatful for because he may have just died on the spot if not. 

Her back was pale and milky with an intermitten smattering of freckles that reminded him of starlight, but what stood out most in this moment was how round and perfect her-

“Mulder!” she screamed as she completely fell to the floor, as if trying to dissolve into it. Her hands quickly came to her front to cup her breasts as she whipped her head over her shoulder.

He only met her eyes for a moment before snapping them shut and running back to his room, slamming the door behind him. “Scully, I’m so sorry!”

IV

It would be a miracle if he didn’t crash, plain and simple. It was just impossible not to look. 

Scully’d fallen asleep in the passenger seat, a gift he’d forever be envious of, but as she slept she inadvertenly unbuttoned the top button she’d previously had buttoned which opened her blouse down to the front middle clasp of her bra. She was dead to the world, her lips parted slightly as her chest rose with each deep breath. It was just him alone in the car now with the sounds of the seventies and Scully’s sleeping body turned towards him.

Because of course she was.

What really didn’t help was the intermitten groans she’d release as she’d squirm in her seat in an attempt, he presumed, to get more comfortable. Oh, and to add to it all, her skirt was riding up as her hand just innocently rested at the hem. It was a sight that was as endearing as it was arousing.

She made a gasping sound and his eyes left the road to look at her face, which was now accented with a furrowed brow of sleepy concentration. Was she having a nightmare?

His own brows furrowed in concern as he glanced between the stretch of desolate highway and the passanger seat to make sure she was okay. From mile marker 66 to 78, she gasped three times, moaned twice, and readjusted one time that resulted in her brushing her breasts against his arm that was resting on the middle console, and now Mulder was cursing himself for not wearing better pants. 

“-der,” she whispered. He’d heard those three letters together enough to know it was the ending half of him name, but he’d never heard them in quite that inflection. Curiosity started to turn into hopeful understanding as he realized that Dana Scully, his beautiful partner, sounded like she was having a sex dream.

But there was no way-

He glanced at her colored cheeks as she sleepily nuzzled herself against the headrest. Against his better judgement, his eyes darted down to the valley of her breasts and stared appreciatively before she breathily whispered, “Fuck.”

Then, with the timing and grace of a bull in a china shop, he drove over a rumble strip and she woke up with a start. “Wha’s wrong?” she slurred sleepily but alarmed.

“Sorry,” he coughed, readjusting himself in his seat while praying she didn’t see his hard on. “I was looking at a billboard and drove over a rumble strip,” he explained, hoping she didn’t turn around and notice the large expanse of nothingness behind them.

Luckily she was too preoccupied with herself to notice anything else. She started pulling down her skirt and rebuttoning her shirt before squirming in her seat uncomfortably. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, uh-” she started, but stopped herself.

“Hm?” 

“Did I talk in my sleep at all?” she asked nervously.

With her behaviour confirming his hopeful suspicions, he bit back a smile. “No, not at all.”

Extra Bonus

She wasn’t sure if there was a sight more jarring but welcome to her than that of a sleeping Mulder in nothing but his boxers in her bed. It was a sight she’d imagined countless times over, though she’d never admit it, but she didn’t think it would take these circumstances for it to have to happen.

She’d seen his body in an assortment of ways and segments throughout their partnership, but she’d never gotten a chance to really appreciate it up close. It truly wasn’t fair that he lived on a diet of fast food and Kraft Mac and Cheese yet could simply run on occasion and have a body like this, but she was too stunned by it to be resentful. 

This is what he was hiding beneath his clothes every day. Mulder was always kind, gentle, and sweet towards her, but this was a body of elegant strength and power. He wore his masculinity well and she wasn’t saying that jsut because, in her efforts to document his recovery, she’d observed his nocturnal tumesence come and go in flares. 

It just amused her to no end he was sleeping like an angel on the very same spot she’d been in while imagining him with her hand between her legs. 

Though he’d been wearing a little less in her imagination.

[katlyn1948]

Evading Capture: Chapter 3

Evading Capture

Katlyn1948

Chapter Management

Edit Chapter

Chapter 3

: The Failed EscapeSummary:

Arya tries to escape, but something halts her plans.

Notes:

Ya'll are lucky! It usually takes me several weeks to update a WIP, but I'm in a good mood so....and I already have the whole story planned in my head, so alls I gotta do is write it! I am hoping it takes only 6 parts to finish, but it just depends on what my brain wants to add to the chapter as I am writing it. Little inside: I don't plan out my chapters like a normal person. I don't have an outline or anything like that. Nope...I act out all my chapters before I write them. So, let me explain. I literally have full blown conversations with myself as these characters using dialogue. It is how I "plan out" my stories. It sounds weird, I know, but hey it works. I also voice myself doing this and use that dialogue in my stories. Think of it like a script. I say what the character says and then I will also explain what is happening in the scene. Basically I am audiobook script! LOL. Anyway, call me crazy, but it works! So enjoy and as always, happy reading!

Chapter Text

The night was cold; more so than any other night that Arya had ever encountered in the Riverlands. It was a testament to what her family words were; Winter is Coming, and she was sure that it would grow colder as time progressed. This gave her an advantage to those that surrounded her. She had thick blood; that of a wolf and not even this lingering cold would hinder her get away.

She was right to assume that, as the evening drew on, the men around her would begin to divulge in their leather sacks filled with whatever alcohol they could get their hands on. Lem was the first to fall, slumped over a log as his mouth trailed drool down the side of his chin. Next was Anguy with his bow strapped securely to his chest. Hot Pie hardly drank and ounce and could chat the tongue off of anyone, so Arya was please when his eye lids began to droop with sleep. Thoros hummed as he lifted from in front of the fires, drifting towards his horse, and rolled out a dusty old blanket for him to lay his head upon. It took only a few short minutes for Arya to hear the soft snores escape the priest. Beric was the last to fall, trying his best to keep guard of the surroundings, but the lack of sleep and effects of drink finally caught up to the lord, causing him to drift his head back, mouth agape as he slept soundly.

Gendry stayed up, charged with watching the brush around them as well as keeping a studious eye on Arya. So long as he was awake, so would she. No sleep would come to her, so long as she knew on these men were awake.

“You look exhausted.” She observed as she watched Gendry’s head bob with slumber.

“Hmm, I am.” He confirmed.

Arya chuckled, “Then go to sleep. I’m sure Hot Pie could watch the camp. All he has to do is ring out, and you lot will be up within seconds.”

She could see Gendry contemplate the thought and was sure that he would agree to her dubious plan. She prayed to the whatever Gods would listen that he did, so when he reluctantly agreed she let a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“Aye, he can, but you must stay beside me.” He rubbed the back of his head with his hand, a slight blush creeping to his face as he did so. Arya’s smiled faltered and her heart suddenly began to race.

“I-I don’t think that’s necessary. I can stay up with Hot Pie, keep on the lookout.” She hastily said.

Gendry groaned as he lifted from his perch just beyond the fire, where the horses were being tied, “Sorry, milady, but no can do. If I sleep, you sleep. Can’t run the risk of you escaping.”

Arya watched as he strode her way, lifting her up from under her arms, until she was standing. He grabbed her upper left arm and guided her to the thick blankets that were laid out earlier in the evening, plopping her down with a thud. She huffed at his roughness and wiggled her hips to try to get the hard ground somewhat comfortable for her slumber. She leaned back, letting her back fall upon the hard ground, turning from where Gendry was walking to wake up Hot Pie.

She couldn’t see their interaction, but she could hear the soft whispers exchanged as Gendry asked Hot Pie to be a look out. His steps were unmistakable as she heard him make his way back to where she was laying. His presence was suddenly evading hers, and although he made sure to keep distance between him, she could feel his heat radiating, making her shift uncomfortably.

Arya couldn’t sleep, not only from her bound hands, but because of the anticipation of her eminent escape. Her mind was awake with ways for her sneak through the camp, all while trying not the wake the band of rebels. Scenario after scenario drifted through her head, each with subsequent consequences if caught. She was sure that her downfall would be the ropes that currently held her wrists in place. With such restrictions, she was sure to lose her balance and hurt some part of her body because she would not be able to break her fall. She tried on multiple occasions throughout the night, to wiggle her wrists free, but that only seemed to cause more harm than good. The action left her wrists raw and bloody, causing her wince in pain every time they chaffed against her skin.

The only other solution to her situation would be to steal the small dagger from Gendry’s side in order to cut herself free, but the action was risky. Arya had no inclination on how deep he slept, or if she would be able to reach the damned dagger in the first place. She knew it was placed on the right side of his hip, which he was currently laying on. She had hoped he would turn sometime in the middle of the night, but he didn’t and all she could do was bore holes into his head with her glaring eyes.

She huffed in frustration and turned so that her back was now facing him. She scanned the dark woods and noticed the slight glow of sunrise trying to break through the horizon. It was morning, and she had spent the better half of her night coming up with stupid plans that were sure to fail.

Watching the sky turn bright colors of yellows and purples, Arya gathered her courage. If she were to escape, she had to do while they were asleep; right before the sun had a full chance to awaken.

Pulling herself up with the sure will of her abdomen, she sat, observing her surroundings once more before jumping to her feet. She managed to keep her balance and even managed not to disturb the sleeping bull beside her. She scanned the forest edge, squinting her eyes to adjust to the low light the sky as emitting, and noticed Hot Pie drifting off to a sound sleep.

With this wonderful revelation, she took her chance.

She took a deep breath and kicked her feet from under herself, propelling them forward into a sprint. She had to be weary of the fallen trees that surrounded her, making sure she didn’t accidently trip over one of them. She darted passed the horses; only giving them a slight wind she brushed by. She was almost home free; away from the camp and away from The Brotherhood. All she had to do was clear the camp and hide herself in the densely wooded areas.

Her heart was pumping and the overwhelming feeling of excitement washed over her body like a blanket. She couldn’t believe that she was nearly there, the taste of freedom on her fingertips. Her footsteps seemed to float as if she was running on air. She made little to no sound, not even the deep breathes that were escaping her small body were enough to wake the sleeping giants. She could see, the line distinguishing the camp from the forest. Just a few more steps and she would be rid of them, but then her feet suddenly halted. Her head thinking about all she left behind.

She didn’t have much, maybe a few breeches and a jerkin. She had a water satchel and rucksack and a few oddities that she would be able to steal along the way. However, what she didn’t have were her reminders. She didn’t have the small piece of cloth ripped from Sansa’s dress. How she would cradle it at night and sniff the fine silk, for it still smelled of her sister. She didn’t have the piece of broken wood from her play sword that she used to train with Syrio, nor her Stark emblem clasp that held her thick cloak together from when she was in the north. She didn’t have Needle. The one thing that she had left of her favorite brother.

All of the small meniscal items were replaceable, but her sentiments were not.

It should feel stupid to her that simple little things left a huge impact of her life that she couldn’t leave them. They were costing her freedom, yet she had to go back. She would rather be a hostage than to even think about losing those close items. So, with a deep sigh, she turned on her heel and began to trudge her way back to the camp. She was no more than two steps in when she saw a large brooding body come barreling at her like a runaway horse.

His body collided with hers and they both went tumbling down to the ground, rolling a few good feet before halting. She struggled in his grasp, trying to wiggle her way free, but it seemed useless. He was bigger and stronger than she was and she would expel most of her energy if she tried to escape his unruly grasp.

“Will you let me go, you insufferable man!” She wailed.

“Stop trying to escape and maybe I will.” He huffed as he tried to still her thrashing body. His arms were square around her body and Arya could feel the tickle of his ragged breath on her ears. Taking the opportunity, she threw her head back, hearing the familiar crack as she did so. Gendry yelped in pain and released one of his arms from around her, giving Arya the room to escape his grasp. She turned in his arm and brought her knee to his groan, for good measure, causing him to yell in discomfort.

Rolling from him, she picked herself up and glanced down and the withering man. She couldn’t help but smirk at the way he had one hand clutching his nose and the other clutching his groan.

“Serves you right for tackling me like that!” She spat.

“What in the name of seven hells is going on here?” Beric inquired. Arya turned her head to notice the band of men making their way to where they were. She took several steps back from Gendry, allowing Anguy to grasp her upper arm so that she wouldn’t run off once more.

“Fuck! I think she broke my nose!” Gendry’s hand still covered his face, muffling his response.

“Good, I think you’ll look better with a crooked nose, anyway.” She grumbled.

Beric bent down to where Gendry was laying and swatted his hand away. He pinched the bridge of Gendry’s nose and bent it back into shape, not giving any warning to the young man as he did so.

“It’ll be fine.” He assured Gendry. Beric stood and turned his head towards Arya. “Now, please someone tell me what happened!”

She winced at the severity of his voice, and it reminded her of when her father used to reprimand her for doing something she wasn’t supposed to be doing.

“I-I had to take a piss, so I decided to do it at the edge of the camp. I didn’t want you all to see me!” She lied smoothly. Sometimes it scared her at how easily she could do it.

“And what about him?” He motioned to where Gendry was sitting.

“I’m walking back to camp, when I see this bull of a man hurl my way! Next thing I know, I’m on the ground trying to get away.”

“I thought you were escaping!” He countered.

Arya shook her head, “And how do you supposed I do that? My hands are bound, idiot.”

Beric sighed, “Look, it was a misunderstanding. Let’s all just get back to camp so we can pack up and leave. Anguy, change her ties, their rubbing her raw and Gendry, try not to get your arse kicked by a girl next time.”

Arya watched as Beric walked back to camp. She was guided by Anguy and gave Gendry a smug smirk as she passed.

“You’ll pay for this.” He grumbled as he pointed to his nose.

Arya shrugged, “We’ll see.”

[lovelyirony]

The Necessity of Goodbyes

Robert Bruce Banner was born to a mother who loved him more than she could put into words. She loved him as he grew, and his first word was “book.” She loved him through bruises, shouts of anger, and the silence following. But she knew that if their life would continue like this, she would not survive, and there was a high chance he would not either. So when he is passed out on the couch, and Rebecca allows herself to sneak into Bruce’s room, heart breaking at his immediate reaction to tense up before releasing, she makes her decision.

Screw her marriage. Screw this house. Screw him. She will go and save them.

“Do you want to take a road trip?” Rebecca asks him. Bruce lights up. He saves postcards. She will give him fifty cents when they go grocery shopping, and if he could, he would spend hours looking at the different scenes. Not much to Ohio, but sometimes they’ll put in pictures of Paris or Switzerland or Wyoming or Texas. She thinks they do it just for Bruce—their regular cashier always gives him a mint and a smile. Rebecca thinks maybe she knows about the situation. It helps.

“Can we visit Yellowstone?” Bruce asks. “Or…maybe, um, Jennifer and Aunt Elaine?” That sounds like a great idea.

“We have to be very quiet about this,” she answers. “We’re going to stay with Jennifer and Aunt Elaine for a while. We’ll visit the Hollywood sign and see what Uncle William is up to as sheriff.” Bruce smiles, smiles so widely that Rebecca can’t remember the last time her son did that.

They go to the library. She guides Bruce away from the house, and they use the computers that take forever to boot up. She emails Elaine about the situation, and the result is a resounding yes.

Jennifer needs more company in her life, Elaine writes, and I think Bruce and her would get along great! I don’t have to play as many checker games now! I miss you, and I’m glad you’re staying with us. Keep your eyes peeled for job opportunities, if you want.

She starts stockpiling resources, hides the bags in the guest bathroom. They never have guests over anywhere, haven’t since Brian’s little “problem.”

He doesn’t suspect a thing. She plies him with alcohol, cooks his favorite dishes, and stays quiet. He likes it, and she burns with hatred. Bruce is behind her, silent. He steals cereal from the cabinet, takes granola bars for his school backpack.

When it’s a week away, she’s on edge. Her mind is paranoid, giving her nightmares of him finding out, going berserk. She grips the extra key she has to the car tight, not losing sight of it. He’ll check her purse all the time, making sure she has money that he gives her, making sure there is no “evidence” of everything going to shit. So she hides the key close to her chest, even if it hurts sometimes.

They leave early in the morning. She let him drink to his heart’s content, not caring of the consequences. He gets too close, breath reeking of booze.

She stays quiet with the berating comments, because she knows that he won’t wake up until close to twelve. He has work at eleven, and she won’t be there to wake him up. His boss had called her, telling her that if he was late again, he was fired. She “didn’t remember” to tell him.

Rebecca tiptoes to Bruce’s room at five, surprised to see him already awake. He has his backpack ready to go, shoes in hand, and they go down the stairs. She doesn’t know why she’s so terrified. Her heart is pounding out of her chest, and Bruce is whimpering. She shushes him with a smile.

“We’re leaving for forever,” she says. “It’s a moving experience.” Bruce grins, and the sniffling melts away.

The car is parked in the street, thank god. She starts it up slowly, looks back at the house, and turns off the street for the last time.

Her hands are shaking with excitement, she can’t believe she’s actually doing it. She had had dreams about this moment, escaping with her son.

Her son actually starts laughing. She turns on the radio, not to the news channel that he used to blast and complain about every good thing happening in the world. She finds a song she used to listen to before everything, one that she still knew the lyrics to.

Bruce giggles as she does little dance moves, and tries to improvise the words. They go on the highway, and Bruce had only seen it once, when they were going to Grandpa’s house for Thanksgiving. He loves going fast, loves getting away.

“I wanna talk to Jen,” he decides. “I’m gonna tell her all about frogs and my favorite color and maybe even that I don’t like the—what was it, momma?”

“You don’t like the white sauce,” she reminds him. “And neither do I!” He grins and tells her about his dinosaur book. They don’t actually know the color of dinosaurs, which was amazing. She makes up colors.

“Maybe a stegosaurus was actually…neon orange!” Bruce cackles in his car seat.

“No mommy!”

“Well we don’t know their actual color! Who’s to say?”

They stop at a gas station, and she allows him to pick out one treat. Bruce carefully goes up to an aisle, and points at a small bag of barbecue chips. “Can I get this one, please?” Rebecca grins.

She gets beef jerky, a huge cup of Coca-Cola, and a car scent thing. Just because she could. It’s scented “sunset walkway,” and she didn’t even know that she could smell something like that. She calls Elaine on a payphone, telling her where they are and how much more it will be.

Bruce thinks everything is fun. He loves pointing to signs. He’d never seen other license plates on cars. He saw one from New Mexico, and announced that he wanted a turquoise sweatshirt exactly like it. Rebecca snorts.

“Okay, baby. We can see what we can do.”

She’s kind of terrified, if she’s being completely honest. She has no idea what she’ll do in LA. Not at all. But she knows anything would be better than living with that monster. Bruce deserves better than…than that. She’s determined that his life will be better because of it.

They have a fast food dinner.  It’s not exactly what she wants, but Bruce is absolutely excited. He receives a toy with his meal, a little plush turtle. He disregards the assigned name of “Shellie” and promptly names the turtle “Tchaikovsky.”

“It starts with a T,” he says. “And it’s not Tina or Tim or Shellie.” Rebecca nods, dipping a fry into ketchup and urging him to drink more of the milk.

They sleep in a motel room. She pays in cash, gets the key, and tells Bruce to pick the side of the bed. Children look through everything as if it’s the most exciting thing ever. Bruce is overjoyed that they are on the second floor, and they get to use the elevator. He thinks the ice machine is amazing, and wants to get behind it to see how it works. She just sighs, smiles, and tells him they need a good night’s rest. He’ll get cereal in the morning and maybe something else. Depends.

She stays awake past him, taking him into her arms. She is worried, oddly enough. She wonders what Brian’s doing now. If he’s lost his job. Probably. Drinking money away. Being an asshole of a person. She prays to God that no poor woman goes to him, looking for solace or something else. She hopes, cruelly enough, that he gets what she thinks he deserves. Rebecca settles down against her pillow, and smiles down at Bruce. She would do anything for him.

They get closer to Los Angeles. She thinks the majority of the day will cover it. Bruce might slow them down some, but she’s allowing him some leisure time. He likes stopping at all the rest stops along the way and describing what he likes. He likes the color green, but not bright green. The color green like pine trees, or like mommy’s favorite sweater. (She’ll have to check to make sure she packed it.)

The two get into Los Angeles late, to the point where Bruce is too stubborn to go to bed, but too sleepy to do anything else. Rebecca sighs as she pulls into the familiar driveway, parking the car and turning off the headlights.

“We’re here baby,” she murmurs. A light in the kitchen comes on as Elaine walks out, rushing to greet the two.

“Hey,” she whispers. “How are two of my favorite people holding up?”

Rebecca’s shoulders drop a bit of their tension as she sets down Bruce to go hug his aunt. “We’re sleepy,” she responds back. “And forever grateful for you.”

“Don’t be grateful just yet, Will cooked,” Elaine remarked. “Bruce, Jen’s really excited to see you. She’s lying on the couch.”

Bruce trips over a shoelace as he races up the stairs. Elaine laughs as she guides him to where Jen is currently sleeping as reruns of some animated show plays.

“Bruce!” Jen says as he pokes her leg. She pats the seat next to her, and then lays down again. “Took you a long time. I wanted you to come to school with me today.” Rebecca smiles fondly as Bruce tells her all about the “extremely, super-duper cool hotel,” and the “weirdest thing I ever saw, Jen!”

Elaine and Will sit down with Rebecca in the kitchen, putting Jen and Bruce down to bed.

“We’re here to help, you know that right?” Rebecca nods. She sinks onto Elaine’s shoulder.

“I know. I know.”

And they do help, actually. Elaine helps her sister find a job with Stark Industries, working in their marketing department. She takes Bruce to meet Howard’s son when they go to the same school, and Tony’s there for a robotic demonstration. She honestly thinks her life is over when Bruce corrects Tony on a measurement. She thinks Howard will fire her, her life will fall apart, and all hope is lost.

But Tony grins, and drags Bruce to his makeshift workshop. Finally, there’s someone on “his level.”

Jen is a very shy girl, but one that is always ready to fight for what’s right. Rebecca and Elaine both suspect she’ll be a lawyer or something similar. She always can argue a little bit better than both Bruce and her father, which is always a delight to see. Bruce and Jen help each other come out of their shells and realize that they can have friends and they can be happy pursuing their hobbies and interests.

As Rebecca kisses Bruce on the cheek as she gets into the car to drive home, leaving him in college, she knows he’ll be okay. Bruce is rooming with Tony and a very nice boy named James who seems like he will be the one who will be either responsible or the instigator. (As time goes on, she discovers that it’s a little bit of both.)

‘Love you,” Bruce says, pulling her into a hug. “And I’ll miss you. Text you tonight with an update on how three college boys cook.” She laughs, giving him a final glance.

“I’m so happy for you,” she says. “Stay out of trouble.”                              

(Which of course, he doesn’t do. But that’s another scrapbook that she hasn’t finished quite yet.)

[crqstalite]

drabble, resignation (aric && hakiojkl)

originally intended to be a short drabble on why hakio couldn’t put up with aric in the early days of havoc squad, and then sprouted into an explanation of her backstory with ‘the junkers’ when she was younger. for some reason, i like giving my characters a real reason to be so tough, or act that way at least. for hakio, it’s because she doesn’t want to be caught unaware anymore.

god, this trooper is going to be the death of me. as well as this chapter, because i cringed as i wrote some of aric’s crueler lines. i pray to the swtor gods i can be forgiven.

written : 7.6.19. published to tumblr : 7.6.19. word count : 3,167

tw : ptsd, anxiety attacks.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

“a good record doesn’t make a good leader.”

rookie, brat. she’s heard everything from that man (at least she thinks so) and it’s driving her up the walls of the thunderclap. whether her newest addition, elara can tell, she doesn’t know. the ex-imperial keeps to herself, and it seems like whenever hakio even steps outside the little line of expectations that aric has for her, it’s a snide comment here, an offhanded comment there.

it gets to her.

and she’s this close to snapping. she hates how he’s so blunt about his thoughts too, not even hiding how much he’s annoyed by her position. on one hand, she can understand. maybe this position was for him. maybe he should’ve earned it instead of her.

but it’s hers now, and she doesn’t know whether he can tell, but she’s working her damned ass off trying to do her best.

has she ever run a crew? no, hell no. she didn’t intend to leave ord mantell as a lieutenant either, but it happened, and aric hasn’t been able to discuss, and it’s pissing her off to hell and back. she’s never been good with her emotions, always on a short fuse. and leaving her with someone else with a short fuse is not a good mix. one of them is going to set the other off, and she doesn’t know who it’s going to be.

not to mention her anxiety is getting worse. shaving her hair before arriving on ord was a big enough change, one that scared the shit out of her as a woman with no hair (voonie said it made her look proud of her cyborg modifications and very strong and brave), how the others at the outpost would regard her. but running havoc squad, as it’s CO? that’s banking on sending her over the edge, as it all gets worse. nights she spends awake because she can’t breathe, reliving those weeks she spent half-concious receiving her cyborg modifications, and then being in the hospital.

and the tanker.

oh god-

“hey hakio, whatcha thinkin’ about?” she turns her head to the miraluka private, who grins at her as he shifts the rifle in his lap. “got that thinkin’ look on your face.”

“goin’ home next week, private. gonna see my brother and his baby, then my sister and her new husband.” she responds, retying her hair into a ponytail. originally she’d worn it in it’s natural afro, but it was getting hot around her neck and shifted too much against her helmet. “miss em’ like hell.” she responds as she puts the helmet back on.

“of course, everyone does.” he rubs his goatee as he mulls over his own thoughts. “goin’ home to my wife in a couple a weeks. merla’s gonna have my twins.”

“congrats, oz.” she says. ozy was one of her favorites in their small squad, even if he was older than her. she had her mother and father, but no uncles or aunts, and while she was still in basic training, ozy filled that roll. hearing his stories about his pregnant wife, who was due when they return. she was already planning to head home to her family, meet persie (tyqin’s new baby boy), and then head out to meet ozy’s twins, and merla. he looked out for her, told her what she needed to train for, what she needed to study on. only reason she passed basic training and made it through the academy was because of him. “i’ll be down there a week after i get home.”

“‘course, you gotta take care of yourself too, sergeant. merla makes it sound like m'babies are taking their time.” he chuckles, before turning back to her. “you take your time to, maybe find you a man to calm you down a bit.”

she doesn’t hear anything just as she opens her mouth to laugh at what he says, and the tanker hits something. not until later does she find out what it is, but that scene will forever be burned into her memory. the laughing face of private ozy grell seconds before disaster.

a loud rap at the cockpit door makes her jump out of her seat, hand going for her blaster before realizing it’s the last person she wants to see at that moment. heart racing, she slides it back in it’s holster on her hip, standing rigid as she tries to calm herself. “sergeant.”

“lieutenant.” he says. “we were supposed to be planetside half an hour ago, you forget?”

“no, i didn’t.” she did. sometimes she got to thinking, trying to calm one panic attack and gaining another. she’s stifling tears, thinking about how ozy had never met his twins, but she did. merla and her stayed in contact in the early days, but one day she didn’t return her calls, and hakio gave up trying after she was transferred to ord mantell. “just let me get my gear and we’ll head out, jorgan.”

“dorne and i have been ready to go. just waiting on you, as always.”

the as always grits against her already bruised skin. she tries to ignore it, but after yet another attack, she can’t. she just can’t. she’s too far gone now to do so, and she just wants to be left alone at this point. private grell, sergeant hyperion, lieutenants young and varz. commander tavarii. all assumed dead until they found her, half alive underneath the rubble, clinging to life.

commander lunar tavarii. a twi'lek woman who didn’t take shit from everyone, the one who had to keep ozy from giving her the answers, had to make her find things out herself. taught her how to shoot at point blank range, made her into the soldier she’d was today.

still had the same blaster the commander gave her weeks before the accident. spraypainted purple, the same color as her skin. had their sigil engraved into the handle of it.

hakio ran her fingers over it as often as she picked it up.

offered her some consolation.

“lieutenant?” jorgan’s voice snaps her out of her thoughts. “do you just want me to take dorne planetside for this mission, if you can’t do it yourself?”

he must be far enough away that he can’t see she’s breathing hard, heart almost beating out of her chest as her anxiety rises in her throat. she’s panicking, having a full-blown attack now and it’s scaring her. this isn’t the first time she’s hand an attack since arriving on the thunderclap, but the first time it’s even been this bad. first time jorgan would ever see her trying to recover from one.

and hell, he’s not helping with his stupid comments.

you’re not good enough anyways. why keep trying to prove yourself to the likes of him? you’ll never be good enough for him anyways. it’s just a matter of time before he’s your CO.

“hakio, please. i don’t want you getting hurt.” her mother buries her in her shirt, hugging her like her life depends on it. “promise me you’ll be careful and stay out of harm’s way.”

“can’t promise that mom. i have a duty to the republic now.” she adjusts her formal wear, trying to keep it from creasing before she leaves for graduation. “promise you i’ll always come home though.”

“all in one piece, i hope.” her dad crushes her in another hug, essentially ruining her hair, but she hugs him back with just as much raw strength. “can’t half you walkin’ around on one of these on your wedding day.” he refers to his missing left leg, cheekily smiling as she grins back.

“alright dad. i’ll promise that.”

she couldn’t even keep that promise. now he’s gone, he’d never walk her down the metaphorical and physical aisle, handing her off to someone, making them promise to take care of her when he was gone-

“lieutenant. you can have your personal moments on your own time. we’re on a schedule here.”

she’s done. something snaps in her as she whirls around from where she was previously standing to gather her things from the weapon locker, sliding her rifle back to wear it had been in the gun stand. “you’ve just got nothing good to say, do you sergeant? every damned comment, every sly remark and retort. i don’t know whether you hear yourself when you talk, but you’re a fucking asshole.”

she can’t bring herself to raise her voice at him. tavarii never did, and she doesn’t intend to either. but something about his face changes as tears begin pouring down her face. she can’t stop it, all the memories are flooding back too quickly, seeing their families, realizing their soldiers weren’t coming back. their wives, husbands, fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers.

their families.

when merla was by her bedside, trying not to cry as she told her about the twins, hakio unable to speak. a girl and a boy, at least six or seven by now. at least she thinks. hakio tries her best not to think about the time in between now and then.

that she’d been the only one to survive. “you want my position? take it. fucking take it because i’m not putting up with you anymore.”

her helmet goes rolling across the floor as she pushes past him, dashing past c2-n2 to leave without dorne or jorgan. she’s breaking down, she knows that she is as she heads out into the spaceport. she has nowhere to go, she hasn’t even contacted garza yet to let her know they’ve landed.

well, jorgan would. she knows that he would. just as fast as her promotion arrived, it’d be taken from her.

maybe she’d just resign.

stars knows jorgan would be pleased to run havoc without her.

-

“is she usually like this, sergeant?” dorne asks as he picks up her helmet. dented by the throw, but she’d received it on ord mantell, only taking it off once or twice in the field to cool off. it’s still in pristine condition, surprising by all the firefights they’ve been in with her wearing it. “is she an angry person by nature?”

“no. she’s not.” he holds back a growl. he’s not angry with dorne, and he’s not angry with hyperion either. maybe, he has been too harsh.

“ran with the junkers a bit.” she patches herself up, wrapping a bandage around her exposed bicep, ripping off what she doesn’t need with her teeth. she pauses, looking at the roll of bandages like it holds some sentimental meaning to her. “…just got there as a private two years before the accident. got transferred over, got promoted to sergeant while i was there.”

he knows a little about the junkers. never crossed paths with them (the deadeyes often ran missions alone), but always heard good things about what they did on balmorra and corellia. only big thing that he’d heard before their dissolvement was that there was an accident, one that hyperion had been part of. “only survivor after the explosion.”

aric’s curious. he thought they’d dissolved after the accident, not that hyperion had been the only survivor of said accident. “never forgave myself after that but…can’t dwell on the past i guess.” she turns to him over her shoulder, throwing on her undershirt and moving to pick up the pieces of her armor. “let’s get going sergeant, hoping to find needles by life day.”

she’s a strong woman, she shows that time and time again. saved him more times than he can count on his fingers and toes, and is a frightening shot with both a blaster and a rifle. the way hyperion throws herself out there is terrifying, and inspiring.

but, he was beginning to see the chinks in her armor. how loud sounds when they weren’t in battle terrified her, how he’d get up early and find her slumped over in the pilot’s chair with a datapad in hand. sometimes, she seems to go for days without eating anything, how she’d always have hands running on her modifications when she was thinking. the zr-57 on ord mantell, it hadn’t seemed like a big issue in the beginning, but the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes hyperion didn’t have a firm grasp on the situation. she’d ask question after question about the specifics, the radius of damage, what wiring ran through it. she wanted to know because she was comparing it to the bomb that had killed the junkers.

he was beginning to realize that maybe his CO didn’t have it all together, even though she tried time and time again to show that she did. aric himself recognized from his previous team that she was experiencing a form of ptsd.

“this is none of my business, i’m sorry. but sergeant, you may want to talk to her when she returns. she’s not alright.”

“i can see that, dorne.” he says, a growl escaping him anyways. rubbing his temples, he sets the helmet down on the holoterminal. “well, she won’t be back for a while, so whatever you need to get done, do it now.”

“yes, sir.” she nods curtly and heads back to the med bay. the more he looks at the helmet, the more he realizes he’s messed up. that what he’s been doing isn’t right, and it’s clearly taken it’s toll on her. he’d done his research on the accident. the bomb that had taken out the junkers’ tanker hadn’t been anything near the zr-57, but strong enough to immobilize a republic tanker. done by imperials, he figured. hyperion must’ve know everything to know about that bomb.

is he still jealous? yes, quite a bit in fact. the position should’ve been his. but, hyperion’s molded to the role. the way she checks on dorne and he before tending to her own wounds, even after only a couple of fights on the way back to the ship. the way she’s awake until he and dorne have settled down, the way she makes sure they have their things before retreating to her private quarters.

she’s social with dorne. spent a good deal of time talking to her after acquiring her on taris, one of the few smiles hyperion’s ever graced him with. well, graced anyone other than him with. it’s been as icy as hoth between them since they left ord mantell.

this might be her tipping point.

and he doesn’t know whether she’s coming back or not. dorne seems to just accept it, but knowing what he knows about hyperion, he’s concerned she may not walk back through the ship doors. but why does he care so much all of a sudden? this is what he was waiting for, a chance to demote her and become CO again.

but, something about the scarred lieutenant makes that feel sour just as the thoughts cross his mind. it just feels…well wrong. he shouldn’t wish that on her. she’s worked hard, just trying to impress him even. but he ignores it, in favor of finding every little issue she’s ever had, every little mistake she’s ever made.

which is why when it’s late at night, and he hears the familiar shink of the door leading to the outside of the thunderclap, he stands up a bit straighter in the weapons locker, finishing up with her rifle. cleaned and outfitted with a couple of mods he had lying around, he hadn’t even realized he’d been working so late. dorne had already had a round through the 'fresher and had an mre by herself by this time.

her steps are light, even weighed down by durasteel boots. peeking out of the small armory, she’s not even looking up at him, holding herself up by the wall of the ship. it seems she can’t make it any further by herself, because she slides down the wall and buries her face in her hands. he figures dorne wouldn’t hear it, probably sleep by now, but his heightened hearing picks up on her soft sobbing. she would hate for anyone to see her like this, he’s met other soldiers like her. they never do, but any comfort from him would make it worse.

but he knows her better than dorne does. and while he doesn’t know what makes her tick (other than him), he figures he’s better than nothing.

scratching off a letter to her, he picks out an mre. when she disappears to her quarters, he leaves it outside her door and knocks softly. maybe she wouldn’t find it until the next morning, but…

well, it was the little things, he figures as he lies awake in the shared quarters, falling asleep to the sound of dorne’s soft breathing across from him.

-

hyperion-

you fell asleep before you came back to eat. nothing special, and i know you probably dislike me after this afternoon, but take care of yourself. can’t get yourself worked up over me if you can’t stand on your own two feet.

-jorgan.

she drags herself out of bed when she hears the knock. from how soft it is, she figures it’s dorne. there’s a note left with the mre, so as she goes to prepare it, she reads it through blurred eyes. she’s not sure whether someone forced him to write this as an apology, but it lifts her mood a bit.

she considers resigning again. it was the only thing on her mind today. she didn’t even end up leaving the spaceport, she just climbed until she couldn’t get down in her current state, right on the top of the thunderclap. nar shaddaa’s lights taunted her from outside, but she’d hate to be seen like this by anyone. within or outside of havoc.

hakio doesn’t think she could handle seeing jorgan again after the afternoon. she’s embarassed herself so badly, and stars is this going to haunt her everyday until she dies.

but as she picks at the ready-made meal, she considers it. leaving it all behind? and what for? to sit around with nothing but a target to shoot at and no way to express herself as a senator’s sister?

she scribbles a letter back in her loopy script, and padding into the weapons locker, she stashes the paper in between her rifle and his.

-

jorgan-

i don’t just forget to eat. though, i am grateful for your concern over my health.

i assure you this won’t happen again.

-hyperion.

he finds the card nestled in the weapons locker the morning after. she has better handwriting than he’s ever given her credit for, but as they head out the next morning, he pulls her aside while dorne is gathering her things.

“something out of line again, sergeant?” she raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. same sass, but puffier eyes, which the the worst case scenario, makes her look sadly pathetic.

“no. just…blast it, glad you’re back, lieutenant. thought i’d have to run havoc myself.” the words spill out of him unintentionally, but the hardened look in her eyes lifts for a moment.

“oh.” she tries not to make eye contact with him, but mutters a 'thank you.’ when dorne returns from the medbay and they head off into the bowels of the smuggler’s moon.

[letsriottogether]

Silence, part 5 (Chernobyl fanfic)

Can also be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19868920/chapters/47678032

Pairing: Valana, Ulana Khomyuk/Valery Legasov Characters: Ulana Khomyuk, Valery Legasov, Boris Scherbina, KGB Charkov, Sasha the Cat Warning: Strong language, explicit scenes

Big thank you for all comments and kudos/likes! My apologies for the wait, This past week and half has been a bit more hectic than I’ve anticipated. ________________________________________ There’s something tickling his face. Valery stirs in his sleep, frowning at the weird sensation. His hand rises to push the tickling thing away, only to realize it’s Sasha doing her morning routine. He grunts and opens his eyes to find a pair of light green ones, staring at him. He smiles for a brief moment, stroking Sasha’s soft fur. The lazy morning sun peaks through the closed curtains. As the cat jumps off of him to the floor, heading to kitchen, Valery lets himself to close his eyes for a few brief moments. Then the meowing begins and he knows that he indeed has to get up. His normal daily routine before he can return to the Kurchatov is quite simple. Get up, go to the bathroom, splash his face with cold water, brush teeth. Change into a pair of sweatpants and a shirt, give Sasha some leftovers from yesterday, go to near grocery shop for some basic food. It felt weird, knowing he’s being watched. The first three days he kept checking his window one or two times per hour, almost unable to go to sleep, his eyes glued to the blue car standing on the street. The KGB agents did not even try to hide at that point. His days are long, and he’s desperate to keep himself occupied. He’s re-reading his old books, going through old notes, picking up the theoretical problems he was solving before the bloody phone rang on 26 April 1986 and he heard Scherbina’s voice for the very first time. He still has two days before he can start working at the Institute. He’s not quite sure what to expect, but one thing is for sure - he’s definitely not going back to his office, most likely he will end up in some ridiculously small shared space with carefully handpicked colleagues who would eavesdrop on him and immediately share anything suspicious with the right people. Damn it, it wouldn’t even have to be suspicious, it would be good enough if it was anything that would help them move up the party ladder.

He’s sure that there are no more exciting projects for him and that he will most likely stay away from all labs and researches until the radiation decides to kill him. Buried deep within paperwork, for nothing, watching over his shoulder endlessly, alone, returning back into an empty apartment every day. Wouldn’t that bullet into his skull be better in the end, more merciful?

His eyes wander around the apartment that still looks the same, but for some reason the colors sound more blunt, faded. Maybe it’s because of the thick cigarette smoke? He knows he should try to quit, but hey, you have to die of something, right? Something other than radiation related disease. He used to be just fine living all alone, but then she waltzed into his life, so damn confident and sure of herself. Thank god to that, thank god she had the guts to fight him and make him see that the tanks are full, horrifying fact complicating everything. Her with those wise eyes, seeing through him. And that was only the beginning. He was a careful man, not letting anyone into his life simply because it didn’t feel comfortable, because books could not hurt you as much as people and also because they would not blame you for coming back home late at night. After the evening at the hotel when be basically offered her his apartment (not to mention almost kissing her), he knew there was no way avoiding this bullet. And with the same confidence there was suddenly the presence of her everywhere. In his home, in his mind, in his soul, nestling into every single atom of his existence. There were so many moments of sacred silence, when he would look at her, study the expression of her face, memorizing her curves, the way her hair framed her beautiful face when he would just want to stop the time, erase the past and rewrite the future. Sometimes it felt like she was the raging fire and he was a bottle of gasoline - a deadly combination. 

When the reading gets too boring and radio too annoying, he walks around his apartment. He tried walking outside, but the KGB agents were too noticeable, not even caring about staying hidden somewhere in the shadows of the big city. Inside the apartment he could at least pretend he was alone. And alone he was. Well, at least he thought so. When checking his mailbox he found small carefully folded piece of paper snuck into a small hole in his mailbox. He looked around, as if expecting to find someone who would give him some sort of explanation, but the hallway was empty. He nonchalantly put the paper into the pocket of his coat and went back home. Maybe it’s just KGB’s way of playing with his mind? To falsely lure him into a trap? That could be definitely possible. He walked the stairs up to his floor, not daring to unfold the message before being safely inside. Sasha happily greeted her human by waltzing around his legs. Over the years he got used to this habit of hers, being extra careful not to stumble over her. He put down the bag with a fresh loaf of bread and some other groceries. Usually he would put everything into its place right away, but now there was something more important.

After hanging his coat onto the hanger, he goes over to the windows facing the street, checking the KGB car. The agent is inside, reading a newspaper. Good.His palms are sweating as he opens the hand written message. “Your friend hasn’t forgotten you. Keep your head down for now. Belarussia is under supervision to improve the outcomes.”

Oh Boris, my dear Borja. Chernobyl might have stolen the peaceful and quiet days of his life, but granted him a friend instead in Boris. Valery just hopes that Boris is careful enough not to end up similar to him, or worse. Especially given to his health. The red blood marks on his handkerchief still frighten Valery, knowing there’s no escape to their fate. He knows Boris could be hardly the one to appear in his apartment building, meaning he has to have someone to do this for him. Of course, if this isn’t a trap. But Valery wants, needs to believe this is real, and the faint connection to the outside world, to the people he loves and cherishes pour some faith and joy to his veins. He re-reads the last sentence again. Ulana. He hopes that this sort of supervision that is mentioned is just Boris. Or did he write it like that on purpose not to scare him? He made it clear to Charkov, doing his best that she nor Boris had nothing to do with his testimony. Or did Charkov want to convince himself personally? He pushed that thought aside, not being able to bear that he wouldn’t be able to protect at least them.

He notices that the door of the car outside that never leaves his street open and a man gets out. He briskly moves to the sink, setting the small paper on fire with his lighter, washing the ashes down the drain with water. In a few minutes there’s a loud banging on his front door. Valery already knows their manners, but still cannot help but jump a little at the loud sound. Sasha jumps down from her spot on the sofa, annoyed and angry at the harsh awakening. She eyes the room curiously, partly hidden behind a ficus.  Valery walks to the hallway, opening the door. The agent doesn’t even bother to clean his shoes on the mat, and bursts inside as if it was his home. He stops at the door to the kitchen, sniffing. “Hope you’re not trying to set yourself on fire, Professor.” the man says, frowning at Valery. He realizes that the smell of burning paper must be lingering in the air and chuckles nervously.  “The cat jumped into my lap when I was lighting a cigarette.” he replies, pointing at the hiding cat.. Only her muzzle is showing, and she starts to hiss at the unwanted guest in her territory. The agent is clearly disgusted with the animal and turns back to Valery.  “Tomorrow at 8 you will pick up your new badge at the reception of Kurchatov. They cannot wait, Proffesor.” he scoffs, looking around the apartment for one last time, before storming out again.

Valery lets out the breath he realizes he has been holding. That could have been interesting. He’s actually looking forward to have a daily job again, silently praying it will help him stay sane. Because already now he’s over his head looking forward to the next message from his companion. He has to get inventive enough to be able to respond to him, maybe even ask some questions? How is Boris doing? Is Ulana ok? Does she miss him as much as he misses her? Has she forgiven him?

That night he has troubles falling asleep, too many scenarios playing over in his mind. He tries walking around the apartment, sorting his notes, his books. His mind is restless. He went for a brisk walk earlier in the evening, suddenly desperate for the fresh air outside, not caring if the whole Kremlin is following right behind him. He was just around the corner of his favourite park when he noticed a lady. late thirties maybe. Quite tall, dark brown hair in soft curls, graceful but confident step. She turned around a man was running up to her to catch up with her. That’s when the air left his lungs, fleeing at the speed of light. He could have sworn he moved back in time, ten years ago to the streets of Minsk, as the woman looked so much like Ulana in one of her earlier pictures he found in her flat. His heart started beating fast, his senses flooded with her scent, the taste of her lips, her laugh ringing in his ear. He started to run after them, realizing how stupid and pathetic he is. Well, so much for staying on the rational and calm side. That’s when he decided it’s high time to go back home.He still cannot shake the memory out of his mind, silently cursing himself that he didn’t secretly steal at least one of her pictures. He wanted to, he truly did, but he just thought there will be more time, that he doesn’t need one, cowardly hiding behind security reasons (because blaming everything at KGB was so easy sometimes).

The need to be near her, to feel her fills his senses as he returns back to the bedroom. He collapses across the mattresses, his back hitting a weird bump. His hand slides there, searching for the source when in the gap in the middle he feels creased fabric. He pulls it out, sitting up. A smile lights up his face. It’s her shirt he stole from her, that got pushed between the mattresses and was forgotten short after. Ulana’s faint scent still lingers on the fabric and he feels like some pathetic teenager, who is hiding from his parents in his room, replaying the memory of his girlfriend, suddenly all tense and aroused. No one ever warned him that this is what his fifties would be looking like. His mind wanders back to the last time she wore that. Well, before she took it off.

Valery’s aparment, Moscow, late 1986 The soapy scent spreads from bathroom to the rest of the apartment. Ulana’s just taken a bath, allowing her sore muscles to relax in the hot water. She forgot her nightgown in her bag in the living room, so she decides to put and old shit she found after drying herself. The mirror is covered in fog due to the humidity in the small room. She takes a bath like this as an unnecessary luxury she would be able to spare herself of, but Valery has been too pushy to drop her practical self and try to enjoy the things they have while they still have them. She wipes the mirror with her palm, staring at her reflection. A small doubtful voice resonates through her head. And for how long are they going to have each other?

She studies the wrinkles on her face, her tired eyes, silver hair shining from her auburn color every now and then. It’s not just age that’s written all over her body, but it’s easier to pretend. At least with herself. But when she looks at him in the bad times, her thoughts fly to all the books and articles about radiation exposure. She finds herself studying him, calming herself no, this is normal, but this, is this already…? She shakes her head, frustrated with herself. Not now, not tonight. When she steps outside and appears in the living room, he’s sitting in his armchair, glasses on the very top of his nose, reading some book. He doesn’t notice her, and she smiles.Her steps are quiet, and almost like a cat she sneaks up to him and suddenly tears the book from his hands. Valery looks up at her with mixture of surprise and outrage. But when his eyes wander over her, his expression changes to a sly smile. She chuckles at him, places the now closed book on the shelf and takes his hand into hers. With the other one she slowly starts to unbutton her shirt. Her smile fades away, she bites down on her lip. She shakes her shoulders to push the fabric down. He lets go of her hand, helping her to get rid of the stupid piece of clothing. For some reason he doesn’t let it fall to the ground, instead he grabs it, taking Ulana by her hand, leading her to the bedroom.  Let’s forget for now who they are. Soon after his finger follows the curve of her spine, touching the soft creamy skin of her back, so soft and warm, so inviting to be caressed and kissed. His lips follow shortly after, placing open mouthed pecks. When reaching her lower back, he decides to change things a bit, using his tongue instead. She shivers in surprise and pleasure, soft moan escapes her lips. He straightens his back, looking down at her. She’s simply beautiful from any possible angle you could think of. And right now, on all four, trembling with anticipation, skin slightly glistening with sweat, her brown hair messy.. That’s simply sight for gods, and right now it belongs to him, she belongs to him and he feels like on top of the world, because this precious woman loves him and trusts him. It’s as simple as that. He strokes her cheek with his palm, sliding down to her thigh and then back up. She parts her legs a bit more, back arching up, silent gesture to urge him where she wants him the most. It’s the sound of his name on her lips, an urgent moan full of passion, and he simply cannot hold himself any longer. His grip on her hips gets tighter as he slams into her in one swift motion. She’s so perfectly wet he could cry. World starts spinning and it’s so tempting just to come in that very moment, her walls clenching around him in sweet pleasure. She grips on the crumpled sheets, eyes closed. All the gossips were right, this was much better than the normal missionary position. She could feel him everywhere, filling her to the top, then leaving her completely, making her feel so empty out of sudden just to slide back into her. Sex sounds fill the silence of the room, how his hips meet hers, skin on skin, their uncoordinated moans and whispers. So this is what good sex feels like? He keeps one of his hands on her hip, following her small motions as she meets him in his thrusts, while the other one wanders up her back to the nape of her neck, tickling her hair. She knows what he wants to do, but maybe is too worried she wouldn’t like it and asking questions in the middle of sex seems just too ridiculous. Instead she just tilts her head backwards in a simple gesture and he just knows it’s a green light from her. Within a second his fingers comb through her hair, before clasping them, tugging gently just to cause a small pleasurable amount of pain. Breath hitches in her throat, as the shockwaves start to flow through her body, she collapses on her arms. He has to adjust himself, bending over her back. His hips move a bit higher and suddenly he’s hitting the perfect spot. Her muscles grip him even tighter and it’s too much for him. She whimpers loudly, not interested if anyone hears them. He swifts his leg, putting it foot down to get better angle, to be able to slam into her even harder and faster as he comes undone. Any barriers that would hold him back are gone, pure animal pleasure taking over him, over them both. That’s all it takes for her, and it takes her a moment to realize it’s her voice that fills the room, shouting his name. His breath is heavy on her back, as he tenses for the last time, filling her to the top. Her hair is sticking to her forehead and cheeks, smell of sex and sweat in the air.  He wraps his arms around her waist, pressing her up to him, still deep inside of her. She finds the last piece of strength in her, as she sits up with him. He lays his forehead against her shoulder for a moment placing soft kiss. She turns her head around a bit to be able to see him and smiles. He looks up at her, his eyes meeting hers, the corners of his mouth up in a grin. Suddenly her arm moves up, bending in the elbow to be able to reach him and caress his hair. None of them speaks, enjoying the intimate silence. It’s their moment where nothing else exists apart the two of them and the bed they are sitting on.

He shifts up a bit, cupping her round breast, thumb encircling her sensitive nipple. He loves finding her favourite spots, burning them deep into his memory alongside with her expression, her eyes rolled back and gently biting on her lip. He decides to continue with his experiment, the other hand sliding down to where they are still joined, mix of her wetness and his seed sliding down both of their thighs. He flicks her clit one or two times, his hips bucking on their own as she clenches aroundt his softening cock. He then lets her go, deciding not to torture her anymore and also painfully realizing that he will need some time to go another round. She understands and just collapses into the covers, exhausted and content.

“Can you imagine what it would be like if we met 20 years ago?” she chuckles and turns her head to face him as he lies down next to her, propped on his elbow. “I think our scientist careers would be in real danger, because I wouldn’t be able to let you out of the bed,” he smiles and tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Then it’s good we’ve met only now. It would be hard to choose between all the good sex and my job.” she jokes, but they both know it’s hint to an actual problem they would have been facing. It’s hard to imagine how the two of them would be able to work out when they were younger. Both too eager and dedicated to their job, making all the sacrifices to keep moving forward. But would you be able to sacrifice a  relationship with someone who is possibly your soulmate to the job you love and that you feel is your vocation and vice versa? She quickly shakes the thought away from her head. “Scherbina says that ever since our visits started to be regular,I don’t seem as grim,” he suddenly blurts out and Ulana gapes at him. He shakes his shoulders apologetically. “What, that’s a good thing.” he grins and she kisses him on the jaw. “Please just tell me that Boris is the only one with whom you talk about this. Not only it would be dangerous, but I wouldn’t be able to talk to Tarakanov or Pikalov again, knowing you’ve been discussing our sex life,” she says, covering her eyes with her palm in desparation.He laughs out loud and starts kissing her, making a path from her belly to her neck.“Nah, they would be jealous and would want me to share,” he mumbles in between and Ulana looks at him, horrified. He laughs again at her expression and finally kisses her on the lips. 

They both get more comfortable on the bed as Valery places a big cover on both of them, making sure Ulana’s back is all covered. He outstretches an arm towards her, she already knows this small habit of his and lifts her head so he could sneak his arm underneath. He needed to keep her close. She needed to be in his arms.They lie in silence, staring at each other. She counts the wrinkles on his face, memorizing them all over again. With every new one she makes a silent prayer before she closes her eyes and falls asleep.

[isakwon]

MALEVO 2

Pairing: Reader x Got7′s Kim Yugyeom

Genre: Angst

Warning: Violence and swearing

Word Count: 3K                                    

MALEVO 1

       Thank goodness the dark curtains provided with the dormitory shuts the sunlight out from blinding the heck out of your slumber. You adored waking up being completely wrapped with puffy blankets laying softly over the pillows and judging from the silence around you, your roommate must’ve left for work. It all a dream; the last things you remember from that night terror had been your loved ones going missing, getting mysteriously threatened with notes, and the paranoia that stayed behind waking up. Once fear eased down out your stomach, you don’t hear noise come around outside the walls, meaning you are home alone. Being home alone weekend mornings gives the opportunity to do whatever you want and the idea has you excited. Your roommate must’ve gained enough energy after finishing her late night shift and decided cleaning the entire house while you were sleeping, leaving everything looking spotless with the exception of some dirty dishes.  You blindly turned the television on before walking straight toward the small kitchen preparing breakfast. Without watching the screen, the news anchormen discuss over the most recent morning topics.  

 “Our Country Police Department have track down several drug victims using the brand new strategy called “Operation Hammer”. Both Police and the FBI are using Battering Ram Tanks to tear down houses that has been accused of drug possession in order to stop this devastatingly fast growing rate of crack, cocaine and marijuana. Last night, three houses have been demolished and only one containing bags of what looks like cocaine within every wall, beds, the floor and even the inclusion of illegal weapons.” One female reporter said from the screen.

  “All four owners were arrested with one currently in the hospital due to spinal damage from getting rammed.”  

 You sink down the chair eating your prepared breakfast in front the T.V. displaying the hood streets where police search half demolished homes surrounded with victims dressed in their bathrobes and pajamas, holding children much younger than six years old. One interviewed woman describes her perspective how she was sleeping next to her husband and grand baby, next thing she knew the sounds of big wheels draw closer and closer until suddenly they are left with half a home. A majority of victims face mistaken identity and now shockingly the victims are put with blame. Unfortunately half the victims become unjustified and lose their own case against the police especially when somebody gotten seriously injured and it was so obviously clear the police are at fault.

 “We were scared and it’s just horrible because those kids were in these houses, they could’ve been killed.”

   You stiffen your vision toward the screen that showed police exiting the torn house with little to no expression on them, including the President’s wife escorted by them . Four actual drug abusers are imprisoned and rehabilitate while nothing else will be known about the mistaken victims roaming around the front yard wearily, hugging wailing children. Wondering helplessly what’s gonna happen to them and where they’re going to stay, how their children can get dressed now that their uniforms are covered with dust. You fold your arms across your chest while exhale heavily, shaking you head. Damn was the most you thought to yourself as the reporters moved on to the following morning topic. All scenes similar are the first and last time the victims will be heard from. It was like the justice supreme liked thinking themselves as if their job was all a game of messed up chess, considering themselves as Kings, Queens and Bishops and Knights trying to eliminate pawns that never moved

Many cops knew how their job should be done and how suspects should be treated firstly during interrogation. Others who did whatever they wanted assault on the innocent or for just for any other senseless reason.

  Once breakfast was over you cleaned yourself and dressed into simple shirt and pants, not really having desires to go anywhere today since your roommate left and later tonight you are going out with a date that you haven’t had in forever. Men during junior and high school approached you confessed their past feelings and admitted they were afraid that there was something more grew with your feelings towards Yugyeom.  Your thumb presses the delete contact button under Yugyeom’s contact that now was useless for keeping old messages and dated back call logs. You would stand in the middle of the living room, gripping the phone with your fingers, and planting your feet down facing the door, not wanting to move.

...

“I can’t date anybody cause they feel jealous of you.” 

You grip the steering wheel with both hands on opposite direction, attempting jokes but at the same time being serious toward Yugyeom who keeps eating his boxed food. 

“It’s not that their jealous, your lovers are afraid about what will happen if they make you cry.” He says, bringing the forkful food to his mouth. “Plus they don’t need to worry about us together.”

He picks something stuck in his teeth as you stare at the red dot over your heads. And you purse your lips together breathing through your nostrils. “Yugyeom, do you think someday we’ll stop being best friends?” You ask.

Yugyeom stares onto the side of your face, wide eyed. “How can you think that?”

  “I mean once we’re married, our partners wouldn’t favor friends like us hanging out as much as we do. Even if we bring our time together to a minimum, I’ll be worried your future wife won’t accept me.”

  Your fingers fall down the steering wheel as your heart twists in your chest. Remembering folded surprise notes hidden in your bag. Every note had malicious comments demanding you to find a new best friend. One day returning from being sick, Yugyeom found a paper tack in your change of shoes with the needle facing up the air. You were shocked knowing how someone could do such things to you just because you were close friends with a male this person has a crush on. He grabs your shoulder, rubbing his hand over and you turn your eyes toward Yugyeom.

“Y/N, if our future spouses don’t want to spend time together then they might as well have each other. There’s no healthy relationship if there isn’t any trust.”

Trust was Yugyeom’s best traits, and his trust sometimes amazed you. He never shared secrets and he never let anyone down. Anytime you needed help finishing an essay, he’d help you with research and anytime you thought you would get grounded for something you knew was wrong.

 “Trust me, no matter what happens I promise we’ll be friends forever. You’re like my sister, if anybody breaks your heart, they better pray for themself.” He says getting an amused scoff from you in response. That promise was sealed with a handshake and hug  Yugyeom would cover for you. All that Yugyeom has done for you, you would do for him. One day there would be knocking coming from the door and his figure outline visible from the otherside, waiting for you to open. You press the cancel option below the delete contact option. Yugyeom should’ve been deleted but you just never had the heart to, like removing him from your life.

   His contact still under your thumb following the call button, keeping your thumb hovered and moving back and forth, staring. You waited something from him like a call saying he’s okay, if his family’s okay. You been urging to dial him for so long, without realizing your fingers fumble over the screen, feeling the phone vibrate, just thinking purely about Yugyeom. “Hello?”

“Hey Y/N, how are ya?” Your boss called, “Say can you come in a little early today?”

He asks you to cover some coworker’s daylight shift. A quiet moan immersed deep down the bottom of your throat just so your boss could not hear- you were just enjoying the morning all to yourself. You had not stayed at home for countless weeks and dearly missed for lounging before you went out. But your boss was such a sweetheart and fun person.

“Thank you. Have a wonderful day.” Your shift comes closer towards the end.

 Upon your arrival he instantly greets and thanks you making your face grow red overhearing his compliments. So far things run smoothly without being too busy, customers seemed to be in a good mood. Half the customers telling you how pretty your smile is and some new coworkers asking advice how to become a better employee. You knew since today is a good day, your date tonight might succeed.

 You greeted and smiled every single customer while wiping tables and chairs. Good thing arriving early provided being released early, giving you enough time to shower, get dressed, redo your hair and apply make up on yourself. The sky blended baby and mid-dark blue turning into one of the most beautiful sapphire blues you had ever seen.

 Probably because he wore a jacket of the same color. His car that you rode was painted the same color. Maybe because you thought the color suits him best. Maybe the color has nothing to do with remembering Yugyeom. Maybe it was the customer sitting down on the patio with a familiar back profile. Whoever the person really was, you can’t help try examining.

 The shoulders were wider by two inches comparing yours, his bowl-cut hair was fluffy and a single loop earring and although the legs are bent and covered with loose jeans, they look swollen. Yugyeom’s legs were slim the last time he was seen. You realize you’re several steps closer toward the customer trying usual questions you ask customers eating at the restaurant and a small part trying to find out the person is Yugyeom.

….

“We can’t go to Haeundae this year.”

Yugyeom said and you adjust the phone over your ear.  “What,how come?”  

 Before, Yugyeom’s disappearance talked about visiting some relatives. For six summer vacations, Yugyeom’s parents always invited you on a road trip to swim at Haeundae Beach usually lasting two weeks on vacation as long as your parents agreed- and they obviously would.

 Now, his parents grew worried and more wary about safety since that drive-by assassination that happened before your eyes. Crime like such seemed incredibly rare happening in such an innocent neighborhood that’s becoming more alert. Since that elder woman mentioned her nearing death, familiar street names appeared on evening news. Reported kidnapping, folks never returning home, and hit and runs. More parents cautiously watched their children and the dog population grew rapidly.

“How long will you be away?”

Yugyeom sounded really gloomy through the speaker, he sounded like he was crying. “I don’t know.”

He tells you grab a pen and napkin and write down a new phone number. He inhales deeply, making sure that you can’t suspect him tearing up but his voice croaked.

   Why is he suddenly getting sentimental ?

“Trust me, everything will be okay. I love and will miss you, loser.” His relieved huff released one out through you, assuring he’ll be okay. He promises that you’d be friends forever.

  “Y/N come on, you gotta clock out.” Your boss waves his hand forward and you gather leftover plates before heading inside the building without even looking back the drive-thru lane and drove all the way home to make in time for your date.

  Nobody could oppose how wearing black looked wonderfully on others. You owned a dozen black dresses and the target aim tonight was another most favorite dress with lace elbow sleeves with soft black percale fabric outlining your figure. You wore over overall natural makeup with brown matte lipgloss and your hair framing your jaw structure. Since today was great so far this date was going really good too. Your date became the center of attention for the night without trying.

  He was cute especially wearing red polo shirt that exposes his chest through glimpses each time he moved while turning his head toward the waiter. Once the conversation passed the usual introduction and profile you went ahead on ordering drinks.

Jinyoung is the first time having a date with after a long period and he was being a gentleman from the start, pulling out the chair, gifting lavenders between you and hasn’t stopped complimenting you. As hours passed Jinyoung’s eyes trot over head down your arms. Your sensual voice flowing pleasantly through his ears and asking to hear your giggle again. His knuckles press into his cheek squishing his eye. He was admiring you with his half smile once you raised your head and smiled shyly. “Yes?”

“You just look beautiful.” Jinyoung responds. He unfolds his fist, flattening his hand against his cheek.

“How can someone like you be single for so long?”

 Heat rushes up your cheeks quickly as your eyelids fall and you curl strands of hair. It was better keeping that question unanswered, not because that’s the ‘date thing’ also because the past men who shared interest always ended. You were just sick over the lacking trust and jealousy living through the relationship with whoever.

The waiter brought two glasses of iced teas, sweetened for you and unsweet for Jinyoung. After ordering appetizers, you excuse yourself to use the washroom. Jinyoung nods, watching you rise until you disappear around the corner. A smile plasters your face with heated cheek buds until someone dressed entirely in denim, wearing a black ski mask exits the men’s room. That person pauses in his tracks and zipps quickly away as you look back behind him entering the restroom. Water droplets float over little frizzy parts of your hair. While silently hoping that this night continues going good, the phone screen brightens with a new message.

[From] Unknown:

         Do not drink the tea.

Your brows knit upward your forehead and you immediately frown. Such a strange message especially from an unknown number. You thought to yourself, “The fu-?”

But the message mentions the beverages you and Jinyoung ordered, how the hell did Unknown number know that the drinks were teas?

Your thumbs begin punching over the keyboard and then another message appears.

[From] Unknown:

          Please do not drink the tea.

  Water drips from the faucet and all you do is reread the two messages saying the same thing. Maybe these messages really are for you, but how does this person know what you’re drinking. Also why. Who is this person texting you, how did they know your number? Are they sitting somewhere in the same restaurant, they had to to know where you are this evening.

So does that mean you’re being followed?

The bathroom door opens again another woman entering as you turn the screen off. You still are fazed the same way you felt earlier in the morning, unable how to think nor when to move. Jinyoung already waited waited more than five minutes, probably, and the food already served without you. Could he be the one warning you about the drink? He did have your number first and knew you were drinking tea and he is sitting in the same restaurant with you.

You throw a bit more water onto your hair streaming down your temples past your ears, taking a deep breath. This whole day was going fine, you think to yourself, everything will be okay hopefully. You excuse yourself to Jinyoung sitting back down.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

 You nodded, trying to wear off loads of paranoia heaved upon your mind and shoulders.

  “Yes, I’m fine. Let’s eat.”

Jinyoung talked about his interests of gothic architecture and popular narrow alley staircases like one called El Callejon De Beso. It interested him because supposedly when couples kiss standing on the red stone where one lovers blood stained, their love would last eternally. Another thing was discovered about your date when he kept cracking wise jokes-and each made you laugh.

  Several more minutes passed talking between eating and Jinyoung drinking between eating. As much as you desired washing food down with something, you didn’t grab for the tea for anything. Those anonymous warning just wouldn’t stop whirling behind your skull, debating if ordering another drink was better. The waiter still hasn’t walked by the table to check nor offer refills yet, not even offering refills for water. Your parents have said when you were younger when you were watching the movies with them where there was a bar scene. When that ended, they told you buy your own drink never let other people buy them however they were alcoholic, something your taste buds cannot stand. Alcoholic drinks tastes super heavy and super light yet all that can taste is the burning liquid, even when their drinks fused with fruit flavors that dissolving sedates have no flavor. Emptiness fills you wholly, glancing at corners all around, suddenly losing interest doing anything and movement in your limbs and your eyes are alert. You could’ve responded with wrong number or just simply turn the phone off, but the pleading from the last message really sounded genuine.

You fling your sight back on Jinyoung gently holding your hand and watching you with concerned eyes. Now that you realized, you hardly remember anything that the conversation was about. You don’t even know if you have said anything, now making you seem rude.

“Are you alright Y/N?”

Jinyoung furrows his brows onto his forehead, changing his frown into a tiny smile that brings another similar from you as deep sighs huff from your nose. Other things occupied the mind too much that attention was taken away and you shook your head and saying that you were okay now. Your dress pocket vibrates against your thigh, most likely another message from the unknown number again, however your mind was elsewhere. Jinyoung lowers his brows relaxed and revealing teeth soon as you envelope touched fingers, using nervousness for makeup paranoia and worry.

“Everything’s fine, this has been a first for me this evening.”

Jinyoung pouts, “Mine too.”

His light chuckle follows afterward slowly releasing your hand, taking gulps of tea where his adams apple bobs up and down.

....

Yugyeom intensely watches his Lord use the other hand for counting the stash bill by bill. His legs tremble from the knees down for his life since the morning from jumping rooftops and smashing windows and from what his lord would say about his short payment. Drug Dealers have similar tasks like every job that makes the sale and receive money which leaves with their boss and in return the ones who succeeded earn minimum wage. Except for dealeing payments are secretive usually exchanged behind the corner store or beside the closest bridge. Sometimes when sales end in fail, the fault was on the customer or the salesperson.

“You did good this time Kim, running away out that dope house that got fucked up. Even if you got caught, that doesn’t mean much shit to me because they got away without paying again.”

He tapped the stash on the table and Yugyeom looks over his shoulders, peering his eyes making them open slits on his face. “Next time, we’ll take care of those people after paying the little strawberry a visit.”

“Anything in it for me?” Yugyeom asked.

Yugyeom never turned short money for his lord because he knew simple ways getting the money. He remembers how cold the device felt in his palms and how far away the paper hung from the other side of the room. In movies and tv shows, actors made things look simple however entertainment intends for scenes to look realistic. Yugyeom stared at the wall and pointed in the same direction the people around him were whining and raising their voices. Calling him too ‘sissy’ to even turn the safety gear off until the material gets snatched from him. He remembers shuttering to the banging sounds inches away from him.

The Lord calls after him. “Hey Yugyeom!”

The sounds of glass breaking startle Yugyeom for the first time in forever. For the first time in forever Yugyeom feels worried as he straps the gun beneath his belt.

 “Shit, she drank it!”

[uas-art]

Title: A Visit Summary: Mysterion drops in to pay Leopold Stotch a visit. Rating: G Ships: N/A Other: Contains implied/mentioned child abuse. Set in a superhero AU

You can also read this one a03

~~~~~~

He would have rather slipped through the window and snuck up on him. It would have been like old times. Leo probably would have gotten a laugh out of it. Unfortunately, Doctor Timothy had insisted Mysterion enter the mansion properly through the front door as a show of trust.

The butler did not seemed all that surprised at the caped vigilante standing in the doorway. Mysterion didn't even need to flash his Freedom Pal's badge for the man to step aside and usher him in.

"The Master is in his study. Would you like me to lead you there, or would you prefer to sulk through the shadows there yourself?" The butler asked in a less than joking tone. Mysterion didn't answer, instead purposefully walking past into a ray of sunlight cast by a near by window.

The butler must have been one of Leo's old hires. Mysterion wouldn't have been too surprised if the butler hadn't been on the receiving end of one of his attacks back in the day. Most of Leo's personal staff use to members of the Chaos organisation that Leo quickly rebranded and name changed to keep them out of jail.

The butler shut the door and wandered off, leaving Mysterion to his own devices.

In the past, when Mysterion snuck into the mansion, he had to keep close to the walls and duck in and out of doorways to avoid being detected. He would use his unworldly powers to slip from shadow to shadow and distract servants and guards. Now, however, he marched up the large set of stairs and down the hall as if he were a member of the household.

Finally, Mysterion came to a large door. He reached up and rapped his knuckles against the hard wood three times in set rhythm, two quick knocks, a pause, then the final knock.

The over-excited sound of footsteps hurried to the door before it swung inwards.

Leopold Stotch looked at Mysterion with a wide, almost goofy-looking, grin. Green and red paint smeared across his cheek and a streak of navy blue across his forehead with a whole rainbow of oil paint on his artist's smock. His eyes even seemed to sparkle with joy at seeing the hero.

It was hard to imagine this baby-faced man was ever one of the most feared and wanted men in all the United States less than two years ago.

Leo jumped back. "Mysterion, come in, come in! It's so good to see you, buddy! Do you want some tea? One of my staff just brought some, and it's got extra honey and lemon."

"No, but thank you," Mysterion shook his head as he entered the study.  He glanced around. It had been a year and a half now since he, Tupperwear, and Toolshed had come in and removed all the machines and weapons and monitors. Now the walls were lined with stacks of canvas and shelves with jars of paint brushes, chalks, crayons, and all other assortments of art supplies. A single TV was affixed to a wall in the corner with the weather channel playing.

Leo grabbed hold of Mysterion's arm. The hero let himself be tugged along towards an easel. The before mentioned tea sat steaming on a small table next to it.

"You have to see my latest painting." Leo took the canvas from the easel and held it in front of him. Pride beamed from his face. The piece in Leo's hand was a mess of colors and different textures, greens and blues and whites, and Mysterion couldn't for the life of him tell what it was suppose to be or if that was the point.

Mysterion frowned. He didn't grow up in a house hold that really appreciated the finer things, modern art being one of them. The closest thing he could recall print of Jesus in a fancy frame his mother had gotten from some free store or another.

"Its...nice." Mysterion commented. "I like that...green diamond pattern."

Leo laughed. "Ok, you just gotta see it with the others, silly!" He ran past Mysterion and began to pick out some other canvases. As he set them next to each other on the floor, a picture began to appear before Mysterion's very eyes: an emerald dragon nestled among the clouds over looking a castle and forest.

Mysterion whistled, impressed. "You painted all this?"

"Yup!" Leo grinned. "Took a while to figure out what parts to put where, but I did it!" He stepped closer to Mysterion. "I'm donating it to a children's hospital next week. Think the kids will like it? Or is the dragon too scary?"

"They'll love it," Mysterion replied softly.  

The two stood in silence. Mysterion gazed at the paintings, trying to take in the smaller details Leo had hidden. So far he found a blue birds nest in the trees and a little family walking along a path towards the castle.  As he gazed upon the blue-grey stone of the castle, Mysterion noticed a figure in the tower window. Careful not to disturb the paintings, he walked around to get a better look.

"Is that...?"

"Yup." Leo joined him and crouched. "It's Charlotte. I saw her on the news recently." He reached out and gently brushed his fingers over the woman in the window with a heavy sigh.

Charlotte had been his fiance, until he was finally arrested for his villainous crimes. At first, she had stayed with him, proclaiming Leo couldn't be Professor Chaos, that he was being framed, but soon the constant media attention and rumors finally drove her away. The last Mysterion had heard of her was from an interview she gave saying that she hoped Leo got the help he needed.

Leo fell back on his heels. "Hey, Mysterion, can I, um, ask you a question?"

"Of course," Mysterion replied.

Leo rested his head on his knees, not looking up at the hero. "Do...do you think it'll ever be enough? Will I finally stop feeling guilty for all I've done one day or is this," he paused to gesture to the paintings, "all for nothing?"

Mysterion pursed his lips before going down to his knees. He placed a hand on Leo's arm but didn't speak.

"Sometimes," Leo whispered, gripping his legs, "I wish they just had thrown me in jail. I wish my lawyers weren't as good. I hate them for that." He gritted his teeth. "I hated how they played up how badly my parents treated me and made me cry at the stand. I hated how they kept acting like the doctor who said I had dissociative identity disorder was right when I know he was a lair." Bitterness seeped into Leo's words. "I ain't got D.I.D.. Chaos isn't another personality of mine that I didn't know about. He is me. I am him. We both deserve to be punished for everything we did."

Mysterion reached out and pried Leo's hand off his leg before he hurt himself.

"I know, Leo." Mysterion said, slowly. "But maybe there is something to all that. Not that you have D.I.D., but that maybe you and Chaos aren't the exact same person." At this, Leo swung his head around and met Mysterion's eyes.

Mysterion took a breath and chose his words carefully. "The Professor Chaos I knew always owned up to being a villain. He never denied that what he was doing was against the law but, he always said he shouldn't be punished for it. Chaos said he was doing the world a favor. That it was the lack of chaos in our society that made us so lazy and sedentary." He squeezed Leo's wrist. "He didn't feel any guilt for what he did. But you, Leo, you do. That's how I know you two aren't the same. Professor Chaos is gone. He's dead, and he's not holding you back from your growth like he's done for years. Do you understand?"

Leo swallowed. A layer of moisture covered his eyes, and he had to blink from tearing up. After a moment, Leo blew his nose against his smock and turned back to the painting.

"You know, there is another person I know in this painting." Leo leaned forward and grabbed a canvas from the middle. He sat back on his bottom with the canvas propped up against his knees. It was part of the scene of the sky and clouds. He turned the painting towards Mysterion.

"Can you see him?"

Mysterion narrowed his eyes, scanning the painting. After a moment, he pointed. "There?" He asked. It looked like a person, a child, sleeping, their head resting against the dragon's foot. The child's hands rested over their stomach with a peaceful expression on their face.

Leo nodded.  "Yeah, he's...an old friend of mine who passed away a long time ago." He pressed his fingers against the canvas. "He died at the hospital this is all going to. The doctors tried all they could to save him, but it couldn't be helped." Leo shook his head. "I hated seeing him waste away like he did."

Mysterion pursed his lips. After a heartbeat, he asked, "What's his name?"

Leo sighed. "His name was Kenny. We were only nine, and get he was diagnosed with muscular dystrophy."

Mysterion took in a sharp breath that caused Leo to look towards him with a concerned expression. He coughed into his hand. "Sorry, I...someone very close to me passed from that same thing. I know how hard it is."

Leo's expression soften, and he turned back to the painting. "I'm sorry I brought it up then."

"Don't be. People get sick, and people die, that's...that's just how the world works."

Unless they’re me, Mysterion added to himself. He pushed the thought and the guilt away. Until he finally joined Freedom Pals and started to live full time at the estate, he had been faking his death and relocating himself over and over. It had been the only way to keep everyone he cared about safe from his growing rogue gallery. His drawn out battle with muscular dystrophy had only been the first.

'Kenny' needed to die for 'Mysterion' to raise.

For split second, the truth pressed against Mysterion's teeth. He had to swallow to keep the words from escaping. Leo didn't need to know about their shared past. It would only hurt him more.

"Heya, Mysterion." Leo whispered, almost inaudibly, "Think they would let me take flowers to his grave? Or would that break my parol?"

Mysterion let out a shake breath he prayed Leo didn't notice. "I'll see if I can pull some strings and let you go, even if I have to escort you there myself."

Leo's eyes grew wide. He stared at Mysterion. He didn't try to blink the tears away this time.

"Thank you, Mysterion."

~~~~

AN: This was for a gen challenge from a facebook group but i misread the information and this doesn’t meet the criteria, so yeah its just a normal fic now. Also, the wiki mentioned Butters is really artistic, and I'm sad that doesn't get brought up much. :(

[aleinnilatibae]

The Orange Yeti

Hey @maximoffended, I was your delayed secret friend.  I took this thing that you animated and wrote something based on it, it kind of spiraled out of control but I had fun.  Hope you like it!

-

The morning was a clear one, sunlight streaming in through Sportacus' airship window, undeterred by the thin clouds lazily drifting by.

Perfect conditions to train a little bit of soccer before dropping in on LazyTown.

"Soccer ball!" Sportacus called, and the airship obediently shot a ball at him.

He juggled it between his feet and knees, did a few easy kicks, before he REALLY let loose and kicked it as hard as he could.

Of course, in his small airship space, that meant it would rebound off of the ceiling and come right back to him at a high speed, but he was certainly up for the challenge.

Jumping and flipping and kicking the ball around as it bounced off the inside of his airship, he couldn't stop himself from grinning.  He was nailing his routine, and that fact alone was making joy bubble up in his chest.

He landed a perfect single backflip that left him feeling almost weightless.

"Hah!" he exclaimed, as he sent the soccer ball flying back toward his bed wall with another backflip kick, "What a wonderful way to greet the day!"

But, as luck would have it, the day greeted him back as many others had before--with a flashing and beeping crystal, and the distant sound of a child screaming in terror down below.

"Someone's in tro-ow!" he exclaimed, the soccer ball bouncing back in his moment of distraction and hitting him straight in the head.

Shaking off the pain, he focused on finding the fastest method of getting down to ground level from his current altitude.

"Rope!" he called decisively, and a spool of large, heavy rope rose up from one of the floor compartments.

Sportacus lowered his goggles, grasped the knot at the end with both hands, and prepared his running stance.

"Door!" he shouted, and he sprinted toward the now-open doorway and leapt out of the ship into the open air.

Sometimes, the simplest solutions were the best.

And the most thrilling!

But, since he was there on business, he tried not to enjoy his faux-skydiving TOO much.

As he plummeted toward the town, the spooled rope grew taut and stopped his descent, forcing him to swing back under the ship like a pendulum.

Perfect.

Like a monkey swinging on a vine, he waited until the rope swung as close as it could get to the sports field before releasing it from his grasp, managing an unusual three front flips before he stuck the landing on solid ground.

"SPORTACUS!" came a scream from across the field.

Sportacus turned around just as Ziggy raced to his side, panting heavily from running.

"What happened?" Sportacus asked, bending down and placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I-I-" he gasped, trying and failing to get his breath back.

Up close, Sportacus could see that Ziggy was white as a sheet, and his breaths sounded closer to panic than exertion.

This was what was setting off the crystal, he just knew it.

"Slow down your breathing, it's okay," Sportacus said, locking eyes with the terrified young boy and exaggerating his own breaths as an example. "Just like this, that's good."

Ziggy made an effort to slow his breathing, until he could announce that-

"There's-there's a-there's a YETI!!" Ziggy exclaimed.

Sportacus involuntarily gasped.  His last encounter with a yeti had NOT gone well.

"A yeti? Where??" he asked, his own voice a little less calm than he would have liked.

Before Ziggy could answer, Stingy ran up to the pair of them, also breathing hard.

"Don't...be...STUPID...Ziggy," he panted, "Yetis are not orange!"

He looked up at Sportacus. "Phew. I never knew that this candy child could run so FAST," he sniffed, jabbing his thumb at his friend.

Ziggy hardly had time to register Stingy's backhanded compliment before Stephanie ran up to join their little gathering as well.

"Ziggy is right! I saw the yeti too!" Stephanie announced, eyes wide with urgency.

"Everyone, stay calm," Sportacus said, holding his hands out against the children's fear as he looked around.  "Is this yeti...attacking anyone? That you know of?"

"Uh, no,"  Stephanie said, tilting her head. "Would it, Sportacus?"

Sportacus smiled, reassuringly. "No, uh, of course not. What, um, what did it do?"

"Well," Stephanie said, crossing her arms, "It was very RUDE to me! It said, 'Out of my way, little girl,'" she imitated, in the deepest growling voice she could muster.

Oh heavens above, it could speak.

It was one of those.

Sportacus tried not to let his panic show outwardly. "Where-where did it go?"

"It was headed to the outside of town, you know, where Robbie lives!"

Sportacus gasped. "Does Robbie know that there is a yeti in town?" he asked frantically.

"No, I don't think so, we haven't seen him," murmured the children.

"I have to warn him!" Sportacus wasted no time in doing his signature move, sprinting between flips to the outskirts of town, hoping and praying that Robbie hadn't had an encounter with the beast yet.

-

The "hidden" entrance to Robbie's lair was open when Sportacus got there, which wasn't very reassuring.

He swallowed hard, adjusted his hat, and climbed down inside.

"Mr. Yeti?" Sportacus called as he carefully lowered himself down to the floor of Robbie's home.  Best not to startle a yeti.

Sportacus' breath hitched in his throat as he heard a low growling noise, coming from the main room.

"I don't mean to bother you," he said carefully, tiptoeing toward the main room, tone friendly yet eyes and ears wide open. "But you really did scare the kids today. And, you have found yourself in Robbie Rotten's home, who is our friend too!" the noise abruptly stopped, making Sportacus' heartbeat kick up a notch. "I-I would like it if you were to leave them all at peace, and we will do the same to you."

That growling noise started up again as he crept into the main area. Now closer to the source, Sportacus could hear it much better.

"Snrrrrrzzzz...snrrrzzz..."

Sportacus narrowed his eyes. Something wasn't adding up here. Aside from that noise, it was deadly quiet in Robbie's main room. Normally a growling yeti would make other, more aggressive noises too.  And, come to think of it, it sounded less like a growling animal and more like-

"Robbie?" called Sportacus softly.

"SNORT-snrzzz...snrzzz..."

Sportacus blinked a few times.  That was NOT a yeti noise, there was no doubt about that, it was DEFINITELY Robbie Rotten snoring. But, where was he? His beloved chair, while extra fluffy, was empty. But the snoring still seemed to be radiating from within it.

Sportacus furrowed his brows. What was going ON here?

He slowly, and curiously, approached the snoring chair, until he was close enough to prod it with his finger.

The chair SHRIEKED.

Sportacus flew backwards, landing unceremoniously on the floor, watching the living chair writhe unnaturally.

To his horror, an orange mass disentangled itself from the chair, rose up to its full height-

And threw back his hood.

"Huh! What!" Robbie said, shaking his head as he blinked away disorientation, looking down at the man on his floor. "Sporta-what are you doing in my HOUSE?"

Sportacus opened and closed his mouth a few times, taking in the scene above him.  Robbie, wearing an enormous fluffy coat, the exact same texture and color as the chair in which he napped every day.

"Well??" Robbie demanded, gesturing with his gigantic furry sleeves.

"I-I'm sorry, Robbie!" Sportacus said, finding his words again. "The kids told me that there was an orange yeti in town, and it was headed toward you, and I didn't want you to get hurt, and-" he suddenly cut short his rambling as Robbie crossed his arms, and fixed him with a stare.

"An...ORANGE yeti?" he asked, squinting suspiciously down at Sportacus. "One that was possibly...oh, I don't know...walking through town earlier, or uh...scaring a candy boy, being rude to a pink girl, THAT sort of thing??"

Something clicked in Sportacus' brain.

"Oh..." he nodded slowly,  finally comprehending the situation.

Robbie rolled his eyes. "This little brats, I could understand," he said, starting to gesture and pace around, "How is it that YOU, a fully-grown Sporta-SportaHERO, never considers that all the STRANGERS and the BEASTS that appear in this town are always-" he swiveled to face Sportacus, dramatically shrugging his robe to the floor as he pointed at himself, "ME!"

Sporatcus grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, Robbie. I should have known."

"Yes, you should have," Robbie grumbled, then sighed. "I wasn't even TRYING to be a yeti today. I just wanted to enjoy my new COAT!" he picked it back up from the ground, and wrapped it around himself protectively.

"It is very nice, Robbie," Sportacus conceded, "But, when it comes to a yeti sighting, I never want to take any chances."

Uncomfortable with how long he had been seated, he leaned back and kicked his legs, springing back up to his feet.

"Because I remember the LAST time I-" he cut himself off, "Nevermind."

"Last time?" Robbie asked, cocking his head to the side.

Sportacus waved a hand, embarrassed at his slip up. "Forget I said anything."

"What?! But-but, I CAN'T!" Robbie whined, "I'm just too CURIOUS!"

He clasped his hands under his chin and leaned forward, the absolute picture of a perfect listener. "Pleeeeease?"

Sportacus chuckled, oddly endeared by the sight, and relented. "Okay, okay. It was-"

He was interrupted by his crystal going off again.

"Someone's in trouble!" he gasped.

"What?! You can't leave me hanging like THAT, SportaCLIFFHANGER!" Robbie protested.

Sportacus smiled as he did his signature move. "Another time, I promise!" he shouted, as he ran to the ladder and climbed up and out of Robbie's lair to face whatever danger the citizens of LazyTown had gotten into.

He hoped it wouldn't be a REAL yeti this time.

[juggydunes]

There’s evil in your heart (it wants out to play)

Summary:

“I look down at my hands, they’re coated in blood. I instantly know it’s not mine, it never is.”

When a new type of evil hits Riverdale, Betty finds herself right in the middle. With the help of two FBI agents, will they be able to solve it in time?

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

AO3

Oh, man, It’s happening. I can’t believe I’m posting this after SO SO SO LONG. I’ve been working on this for a while now. I hope you all enjoy!

PS: I’d like to thank @jandjsalmon for being an amazing friend, for guiding me and holding my hand through this crazy journey. You’re the best, J! (And the other J too lol)

Chapter 1

“Oh, dear… look at this one.” She says, looking down at the photo album I’m holding. I follow her sight on to the one she’s pointing.

A group of happy people, dressed in formal clothes and standing close to each other as they smile at the camera. I inspect it, silently wondering if I should take the picture after I’m done. For now, I only look at it, listening to her as she tells me little details and stories about that time.

“Such fun times. I often say it was the happiest years of my life, working there. I was never much a stay-in-home woman. I love my kids, they’re my life… but there’s something about that period of time in my life that fills my heart with joy.” She says, a small smile on her face. The woman scoffs, turning her amused eyes to me. “Oh, you’re much too young and nice, listening to me ramble about the old times. I’m sorry, honey.”

“No, please. Do go on, it’s very interesting.” I say, then pause. “First, would you mind if I used your restroom?”

“Oh, no. Please, down the hall, first door to the right.” She tells me.

I stand up, gently putting the photo album on the coffee table and smile at her before making my way to the bathroom. I stare at my reflection for a moment, close my eyes and pray.

I fill the syringe slowly, carefully putting the vial in my back pocket. Turning around, I flush the toilet before slowly making my way outside again. The woman is unaware, looking at the photo album with nostalgia in her posture. The little voice in my head presses me to move quickly… and I do.

“I was just about to show you-” She starts, cut short by my hand on her mouth. I can feel her tense below me, shock crashing down on her.

“Don’t worry…” I tell her, as the liquid from the syringe enters her body. “I will release you.”

“Cooper.”

Betty lifts her eyes from the paperwork in front of her and stares at her boss, Sheriff Keller, who’s leaning on the doorstep.

“Yes, Sir?” She asks politely, leaving the pen on the desk to flex her tired fingers.

“I need you to do a quick open and close case.” He replies, leaving a piece of paper with an address on her desk. “Joshua is held up doing other stuff, that’s why I’m sending you. We’re short of stuff today.”

“No problem, boss. I’ll head right over.” She smiles at him, immediately standing up and picking up her jacket from the back of her seat. “What’s this about?”

“Old lady wasn’t answering, she was found dead on her living room. It seems pretty standard but I still need you to go.” Sheriff Keller says before walking out.

Betty sighs a little, cracking her neck as she walks out of the building.

“Betty!” Veronica yells from behind her and she stops, waiting for her friend to catch up with her. “You’re going to the crime scene? The one with the old lady?”

“Yeah, want me to drive you?” Betty asks her, tightening her ponytail.

“Please! Lunch at Pop’s later?” Veronica asks. “We need to catch up, you still haven’t told me how your date went! That’s unacceptable.”

“My date with Jake… it was fine.” Betty tells her as they get into the car.

“Oh no. That doesn’t sound really good.” Veronica mutters, frowning.

“He kept asking me for gory details about work.” She rolls her eyes at the memory, she had faked an emergency at work to get out of that date.

“Really? Those are the worst. I hate the gleam they sometimes get in their eyes.” Veronica shudders. “I wish Riverdale had male residents that were not completely nuts.”

“Pops is not completely nuts…” Betty says, a small smile on her face, which makes her friend glare at her.

“I wish Riverdale had male residents our age that were not completely nuts.”

“Oh, okay now.”

They laugh, enjoying the warm sun coming through the window as Betty drives to the victim’s house. It’s a cold day outside, but significantly less cold than yesterday, which makes Betty very happy. She’s never been a friend of cold, her fingers always being frozen and making writing difficult. Making everything difficult. She longed for summer and the warmth of the sun.

Betty finally parks near the house and gets out of her car, closely followed by Veronica.

“Hi Matt, you the officer in charge?” She asks the officer outside the house, who smiles at her gently.

“Hello Betty. Yeah, I am. You came to take over?”

“Yeah, Boss sent me. Care to brief me oh the situation?” They start walking towards the house as they speak. Betty and Veronica putting gloves on their hands as they go.

“Sure. Neighbor called because she couldn’t get a hold of the victim, Susan Verichi. They called us, we rang the bell a few times, then opened the door and found her dead on the sofa.” Matt tells her. They step through the door and the faint odor of a decomposing body is noticeable.

“There’s not much smell yet.” Veronica says, moving to leave her briefcase on the side of the room. Betty has to agree, they’ve had worst cases.

The elderly woman is sitting with her eyes closed on the sofa. One would think she’s sleeping if it were not for the color of her skin or the fact that she was not breathing. Betty feels her walls come up as they do each time she sees this situations.

This came from rough nights and Betty needing a way to deal with what she saw daily. Part of her didn’t want to lose her humanity and no longer be affected from what she saw, but other times, when it became rough… she wished she didn’t feel anything at all.

“Rigor mortis is set in still, wearing off though. From the color of her skin and the stiffness I’d say it’s been roughly 30 hours since she died.” Veronica says, eyes scanning the body before getting her things from the briefcase.

“Does she have any family?” Betty asks, looking at Matt.

“Well, The neighbor said she was called by her daughter, they leave upstate, saying they couldn’t reach her and asking her to check.” Matt tells her, taking out his notebook. “I’ve got the phone right here.”

“Oh, great. Has anyone contacted her yet?” Betty asks even though she knows the answer. Matt shakes his head no and she sighs internally. Nobody liked calling families to tell them their loved ones were dead. “Okay, I’ll call her once we get back to the office. Let’s gather what we need.”

They set off to work quickly. Betty has to admit, her and Veronica make a great time at crime scenes. They’re totally in sync by now and know what to do and how to help the other.

Betty looks around and writes everything on her notebook. No signs of forced entry. One cup of tea in front of the person, indicating she was alone when it happened. Nothing looks out of the ordinary, nothing is missing that they can tell. All of it point that she simply died of a possible heart attack while she was drinking her tea.

Still, looking at it all… Betty feels like something is missing. She has this gut feeling that has her going over and over everything in the scene. There’s something in the way the woman is frowning that doesn’t quite seem natural to her, the posture of the body…

“There’s something wrong with her mouth.” Veronica says, making Betty look up.

“What do you mean?” She asks her, getting closer to the body and inspecting the woman’s mouth.

“Do you see the way her mouth is closed tightly? Most victims of her age, and if this was a heart attack, die with their mouth open.” Veronica explains, tilting her head to the side before writing something down. “It could be nothing, but I’ll check that when I do the autopsy.”

“Please do.” Betty asks her, frowning down at the room. “Something about this feels weird.”

“Your senses are tingling?” Veronica jokes, smiling at her friend. Betty is struck, once again, about the contrast of the situation.

“Yeah, like Spiderman. Okay, I have everything I need, I’ll head back to the office. Need to make the call.” Betty says, smiling softly at Veronica’s wince of sympathy. “I’ll ask Matt to give you a lift.”

Betty sits in her car for a moment, sighing and trying to shake the sensation of wrong off her chest. She has learned to follow her gut by now, but it irks her how everything seemed ordinary, almost too much. Betty makes a mental list of the things she needs to finish today before she heads home and feels an impending heachache forming in her temples.

Finally, with a another sigh, she starts the car and heads to the station… she had job to do.

Betty is taking off her jacket when Veronica storms into the room, looking the tiniest bit disheveled which on her always pristine exterior, it already sets off alarms for Betty.

“Hey, I was waiting for you. Could you come to the morgue with me?” Veronica asks her, taking a deep breath.

“Sure, everything okay?” She asks her friend before she follows her to the morgue.

“Yeah… I’m fine. Just need to show you something.” Veronica opens the doors and Betty instantly regrets leaving her jacket on the chair. “Yesterday while I softened the victim’s rigor mortis, I remembered her mouth… and when I tried to open it, I couldn’t. So I had to open it up with a scalpel and look what I found…”

Veronica moves to the left corner of the room where Susan Verichi’s body lays, mouth open and… maple syrup pouring from it. Ice spreads through her veins and her breath comes out shaky. A part of her is screaming I knew it I knew it I knew it,  the other wants to throw up at the view.

She’s seen some gross stuff but the sticky substance looks so out of place she has to fight the impulse of whipping it off. It makes her shudder, the tips of her fingers going numb for a moment as she tries to regain her focus.

“It was glued from the inside. Someone put like… super glue on the inside of her lips after filling her mouth and throat with maple syrup and glued it shut.” Veronica tells her, shaking her head.

“What’s the cause of death?” Betty hears herself talk, still shocked and manages to tear her eyes away from the woman’s mouth, hers suddenly dry.

“From what I can tell… heart attack.” Veronica’s frowns deepens. “This looks like normal causes, if it weren’t from… this insanity, I’d totally rule it out as a heart attack. I can’t find anything. No signs of struggle, no prints, nothing. Just that maple syrup… God, I’m not going to be able to eat pancakes for a while.”

“Yeah…” Betty mutters absently, looking back at the body. The whitened corneas seem eerier now.

In simple view, she can’t see anything either. The woman looks what constitutes as a normal death, possibly someone’s grandma whose heart just gave up one day as she was sipping her tea. Skin with patches of red as the livor mortis sets in, lifeless eyes and a sewn shut Y incision on her chest, it shouldn’t hit her as hard as it is. Betty purses her lips, half cursing her intuition.

Riverdale is a quiet town. Nothing big ever happens more than a few robberies and casual thefts, nothing mayor. She wanted to help people, after everything that happened to her family… she wanted to prevent anyone to go through what she went through. Betty had even wondered if she should move somewhere where she could do more. Help more people, sometimes Riverdale felt just too small for her. Looking back at the woman’s body Betty wonders if she’s really ready for it.

“Isn’t this the proof you were waiting for?” Veronica asks after a few moments of silence.

“I guess.” Betty says but it sounds like a hollow question in her ears. “This just feels… bigger. I don’t know.”

“I know what you mean.” Veronica agrees. “I already sent samples to the lab, we should get some more info in a couple days.”

“Yeah… I’m going to make this my top priority.” Betty tells her, her mind already running. “Anything else?”

“Not really. Like I said, it’s weird because the only thing that stands out is the syrup.”

“Shit…  Okay. I’ll go to my office and see what I can get from there.” She walks toward the door before turning back around. “Have you told the Sheriff?”

“No, you’re the first one I told.” Veronica replies moving around the table to get some tools.

“Okay, I’ll talk to him then now.” Betty says. “Thank you for your help, V.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

With that, Betty leaves the morgue and takes a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart and also getting rid of the feeling that she’s way out of her depth. She makes the short way to the Sheriff’s office quickly, knocking gently.

“Come in.” Sheriff Keller says, voice muffled by the door.

Betty steps into the office, closing the door gently before facing her boss.

“Yes, Cooper?”

“Sir, I think we might have a strange case in our hands.” She starts, taking a seat. “The lady that died yesterday, Susan Verichi… I just came from the morgue, Veronica found her lips glued up, mouth and throat filled with maple syrup.”

“I’m sorry… did you just say maple syrup?” The sheriff asks her, baffled expression on his face and she can relate to the feeling.

“Yes, sir.” Betty replies. “Her mouth had been glued on the inside to, at least I assume, keep the syrup inside.”

“Fuck…” He leans back on his chair, rubbing his face with his hands. “What else have you got? I thought this was supposed to be a open and close case.”

“Me too… In fact, everything else looks normal.” Betty informs him, mentally gathering all the information she remembers about the case. “I called the family yesterday, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Veronica says the cause of death is most likely a heart attack, there were no prints or evidence left on the body.”

“So you’re saying we have nothing.” He mutters, sighing.

“Yet.” Betty agrees, down at her palms for a second. “I’m going to make this my top priority, just thought you should be in the loop.”

“Yes, absolutely.” Keller tells her, frowning at the papers on his desk before looking at her. “You keep me informed on this, Cooper. I don’t want a psycho roaming my streets.”

“Yes, sir.” Betty replies, nodding her head. “I’ll head to the office and gather all the information available, see what I can find.”

Sheriff Keller nods gravely at her and she leaves him staring at the desk, deep frown on his forehead.

She’s been staring at these papers for so long they have stopped making sense, the declarations of Susan’s daughter and the autopsy information she has matches. Susan had suffered from a heart attack years ago, it could be totally possible that she suffered another one and died… that doesn’t explain the syrup.

Sarah, Susan’s daughter, was supposed to come in tomorrow to finally identify the body and she was mentally preparing herself to break the news that this wasn’t a simple case. Taking off her glasses, Betty rubs at her temple, trying to rub the headache away when she hears voices coming from the hall.

A tall, dark-haired man with an intense scowl come into the room, quickly followed by a ginger man and Sheriff Keller.

“Cooper.” The Sheriff starts, a look of resignation on his face. “These are-”

“Special Agent Jones and Andrews. We’re here to take over the Verichi case.” The tall and broody one, Jones, interrupts.

“Excuse me?” Betty demands, getting up from her chair. “On what grounds? Who authorized this?”

“The FBI sent us here.” The other agent says and Betty’s mouth falls open. What could the FBI want with the case? Is this about the syrup?

“You can’t take away the case just like that!” Betty tells them then looks at the Sheriff for support, who only winces slightly and opens his mouth to answer.

“Look.” Agent Jones speaks before Keller can, taking a step forward, hand on his hip. “I don’t have time for you to play Nancy Drew, I’m going to need every file and evidence you have.”

“Nancy Drew? I’m a highly qualified detective!” Betty sneered, feeling baffled at the Agent’s words. Nancy Drew? Who the fuck does he think he is?

“I’m sure you are, this is just not your jurisdiction anymore.” He replies, raising his eyebrows as if challenging her to say something else. Betty looks over at Sheriff Keller and he nods at  her, making all the battle drain from her in an instant.

Betty quickly gathers all the papers on her desk and puts them carefully in a folder before handing them to Agent Broody pants, who is closest to her. He’s watching her intently as she drops the files on his hands. Part of her knows he’s only doing his job, the other part wants to give him a hard time for taking the case from her and calling Betty names without even knowing her, not that she has anything against Nancy Drew but…

“The rest is in that box.” She points out to the box on the chair near her desk, which is taken by the ginger agent.

“Thank you for your hard work.” He says. Betty thinks she imagines she slightly apologizing tone in his voice.

“Do you need anything else?” Sheriff Keller asks them, not really looking welcoming.

“Yes.” Agent Jones starts, folding the folder under his arm. “Could you facilitate us an office?  and… we might need a profiler.”

“You’re looking at her.” Keller tells them, the corner of lips ticking up and Betty perks up at that, trying not to be smug herself at the confused look on the Agent’s face.

“A profiler, not a detective.” He clarifies, as if he hadn’t been heard quite correctly.

“I’m the station’s profiler. I have a bachelor’s degree but mostly work as a detective since we don’t normally have use for a full-time profiler.” She explains, puffing her chest out and chin up like her mother used to tell her to stand. There’s a glim of astonishment in the ginger’s eyes, while the other one seems to burn her with his gaze but Betty doesn’t back down and meets his eyes.

There’s a moment of silence as they stare at each other when finally, he clears his throat.

“This means longer hours, Detective. This means not going home tonight and being available when you’re needed.” He states. “This means not a word gets out of the office. Do you understand?”

Betty looks at him for a moment, the feeling that something big is going on crawls back inside her head and seems to be ready to take permanent residence. She turns to look at Sheriff Keller for a second, who is staring at her intently, as if silently forcing her on.

“Yes, I understand, Agent.” She replies, voice stoic and professional. Agent Jones looks at her for a beat then turns to his partner.

“Let’s get to work.”

[biluata]

Our Hearts Run on Gasoline - Quakerider One-shot

Words: 4,356

Request #2: Robbie and Daisy meet at an illegal street race

No Powers AU Meet-Cute with Dramatic Action and Sweet Moments

Read on Ao3: Here

Racing was in Robbie's blood. His father knew it from the day Robbie was born, just like his father before him. All the Reyes men were racers, and Robbie was no exception.

As the night was reaching eleven o'clock, Robbie rolled up in his custom '69 Charger at the crowded parking lot of an abandoned furniture store in East Los Angeles. Reggaeton blasted through the warm, night air and the beats hummed through his chest. Several tricked-out cars painted in obnoxiously loud colors filled the space and were proudly shown off by their owners to the flocks of people gathered around. While some were just there to dazzle with their sweet sound systems and fancy LED light shows, there were a few mean-looking vehicles who came to play.

Robbie grinned as he reached and gently patted the dash of his beloved Charger, Lucy. She might be a classic beauty, but she could still give all the other guys a run for their money. He and his Uncle Eli had made sure of that.

Robbie pulled up into an empty spot where several of his friends had already gathered around to laugh, chat and drink the night away.

"There he is!" Juan announced as he draped one arm over Robbie's open driver window while the other hand held his beer high in the air. "The man! The myth! The legend! The Ghost Rider!"

Cheers erupted from his friends as they raised their beers then chugged them down. Robbie chuckled as he parked his car and got out. "You know that's just a stupid nickname," he said, pushing Juan and his gaudy, bright orange-and-black bowling shirt aside.

Juan laughed then held his beer bottle close to his mouth like a microphone. Robbie rolled his eyes. Not this shit again.

"They say he sold his soul to the Devil in order to get his sweet ride," Juan continued in a deep voice reminiscent of an old radio announcer. "You never see him coming until you already lost. He is. . ."

"The Ghost Rider!" Ricky, Mateo and Felipe hollered by the trunk of his car. They all immediately bawled into hysterical laughter, holding on to each other to keep themselves from falling over.

Robbie shook his head with grin. They teased, but it was all in good fun. These were his people after all, his friends. Ever since Uncle Eli got sent to South Ridge Penitentiary four years ago for attempted manslaughter, they had been there for him like no other. Besides Gabe, these guys were his family.

"Honestly, you guys, that's enough," Lisa chided with a roll of her eyes, pushing the three aside and walking up to him and Juan. Robbie smiled, but quickly averted his eyes. She was wearing an outfit that was highly appropriate for the summer heat, but also highly inappropriate for public eyes. Between her white crop top and her pale jean short shorts, she was showing enough skin to make a nun collapse on the spot.

She stopped only a few feet in front of him, but his nose was still overpowered by the scent of her floral perfume. "H-hey, Robbie," she said in a high-pitched tone. Lisa leaned against his car, twirling one of her long brown curls and batting her dark lashes at him.

"Uh, hey, Lisa," he said as he rubbed the back of his neck. To say she had a crush on him was obvious. Robbie wasn't a complete idiot. And Lisa was a sweet girl, very pretty, too. The only problem was she was Juan's cousin, and if Juan was like a brother to him, Lisa was like a little sister.

He had tried dropping hints over the years that he was not interested, but to no avail. She still kept showing up to the races, to his work, and even to his home with a sweet smile, googly eyes, and sometimes a delicious baked good. He liked her. She was a good friend, but that's all she would ever be. At this point, Robbie could only pray she'd meet a guy someday who would make her forget all about him.

"You know, I'm here, too, cuz," Juan scoffed from beside him.

Lisa shot him a scowl before turning her big hazel eyes back to Robbie and flipping on her charming smile. "So, how are things? Did Gabe finally decide to come this time?" She asked, glancing around.

A stabbing pain pierced his heart and he bowed his head a little. Gabe never approved of Robbie's street-racing hobby. Besides the fact it was illegal, it could also be highly dangerous. One bad blowout and that could be the end for any driver. He's seen it before, has even gotten close to crashing himself a few times, but ultimately Robbie decided that the rewards were better than the risks.

Robbie had been trying for years to get Gabe to come with him to the races, to maybe see why he enjoyed it so much, but to no avail. It turned out tonight wasn't going to be any different.

He sighed. "Nah, he said he had homework to do."

"On a Friday night, are you serious?" Juan asked.

"Oh, hush," Lisa said, smacking her cousin's arm. She then gave Robbie an empathetic smile and placed a tender hand on his shoulder. "That's too bad, but, hey, at least he's such a good student."

Robbie smiled. That was true. Gabe was one of the smartest kids in his school, and he really couldn't stay made at him for that. He was going to go places, which is more than he could say for other kids in this city.

"What your brother is, Reyes, is a nerd!"

Robbie groaned as his shoulders sagged. Ramirez, he thought bitterly.

Manolo Ramirez strolled up to Robbie's car looking like a Latino Elvis Presley with his black hair gelled up into a tall pompadour and his floral shirt only half-buttoned up. He wore a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses despite it being night and had two gorgeous women hanging onto him, one under each arm. They were so similar, they had to be twin sisters who seemed to have just walked out of the cover of a fashion magazine.

Robbie sighed. Manolo was a decent racer, could even give Robbie a run for his money at times, but he always had to appear like the biggest fake and asshole in the world.

"Hey, Manny," Robbie said, forcing a smile on his face. He brushed off Lisa's hand as he stepped closer to his rival.

"Tonight is the night, Reyes," Manny stated with a flash of his shiny, whitened teeth. "You're going down!"

"Funny, Manolo!" Juan called from behind him. "That's what I was telling your sister last night!"

An explosion of hooting laughter and hollering erupted within a ten-foot radius around Juan. His friends jumped around the small space, howling and ramming into each other as if they lost their damn minds. Robbie stifled the laugh that bubbled through his chest with a grin instead.

Manny's face was so red, his head could have ignited into flames any moment. He ripped his sunglasses off, eyes like poisoned daggers.

"Hey, Reyes," Manny said with a scowl that matched the acidic contempt in his voice. "You better watch your friend's mouth before either of you gets a fist in it."

A hushed "ooh" fell across the crowded group as their eyes glanced between Manny and him. Robbie let out a soft chuckle. "Manny, it's just good fun," he explained. Everyone knew Juan talked a lout of his ass. Robbie often took everything his friend said with a grain of salt. "Relax."

Manny sneered as he slipped his shades back on. "Whatever, man, I'll see you on the streets!"

Robbie shook his head as Manny walked off with the twins in tow. Every conversation with that guy was like dancing on broken glass.

"Eh, forget about him, Robbie," Juan said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "You know, for a guy with a lot of beautiful women around him, he hardly seems to get laid, huh?"

Robbie chuckled. "You may be right about that."

"You two are the worse," Lisa announced as she wedged herself in between them.

Suddenly, a cacophony of cheers, hoots and whistles rang through the night. Robbie straightened up, eyebrows scrunched together. What in the world? His eyes scanned the scene, widening when they found what everyone was making noise about.

A sleek cherry-red '62 Corvette slowly rolled onto the lot, sparkling magnificently even in the dim streetlights. Robbie bit his lower lip. Lucy may be his baby, but even he could recognize what a good-looking car this little beauty was. It was gorgeous from its smooth curves to its shimmering chrome adornments. His hand twitched. The mechanic in him was already itching to get a look under the hood and see how it ticked.

The crowd of watchers slowly backed up as the newcomer made their way through the lot and parked only a few spots away from where Robbie and his friends were.

"Who do you think it is?" Juan whispered. "You think it could be Lucas?"

Robbie shook his head. "Nah, Lucas is too much of a scrub to have a ride as fly as that. Maybe, it's another hotshot from Miami?" Those guys always rolled into town in the summer like they were such a big deal, but Robbie would knock them down a peg or two.

The driver's door popped open and a woman with short dark hair dressed in all black stepped out. Robbie raised his brows. Okay, he was not expecting that.

She slammed the door to the Corvette shut then turned, scanning the lot. Electricity danced across his skin as her heavy-shadowed eyes seemed to land on him. Was she looking at him? She had to be, because soon she was strutting his way.

Despite her small demeanor, the woman walked with her shoulders back and her head high. With each hard steeped of her heeled boots, it was like the ground shook beneath her. She oozed a confidence and swagger that warned anybody and everybody she was not one to be messed with. His heart rate began to pick up speed and he'd be lying if he said he didn't find her tough-girl act to be a little sexy as hell.

She stopped in front of Robbie and his group of friends, shoving her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket and jutting her hip to the side as if she didn't have a care in the world. "Are these where the races are at?" She asked, taking her time to eye every single one of them. His heart jumped as her dark eyes settled on him, slowly looking him up and down.

"Um, yeah," Robbie answered, cringing as his voice cracked a little.

The woman nodded as her hands shuffled around in her pockets. When she pulled them back out, in each hand was a thick wad of twenty-dollar bills. "I want to join."

"In that?" Juan asked, nodding to her Corvette as everyone laughed.

Robbie smirked. Juan was right. She had a pretty sweet ride, but his Charger could easily smoke her.

"Don't worry," she said with a grin, her eyes flicking from Juan to him. "Lola has a few tricks up her sleeve."

He raised his brow. This could be interesting. "Okay, you see Big Bass over there by the pimped-out Scion XB?" Robbie gestured over to where the large Latino man, both tall and wide, in a blue sweat suit was chilling with a few scantily-clad women and a police monitor. "He runs these races. You should talk to him."

She nodded her head. "Cool, thanks." Her eyes roved over him one last time before she spun around and walked off.

"Tourists," Lisa spat quietly from beside him that garnered a few chuckles from his friends.

"Aw, come on, cuz," Juan cooed, draping an arm over her. "You're just jealous, because she kept giving Roberto the eyes."

Robbie's ears began to burn as Lisa's face turned a bright red, as well. "Wh-what? No!" She exclaimed hastily, shoving Juan so hard he nearly fell on his ass.

"Yeah," Robbie choked out, rubbing the back of his neck. "She was probably just trying to figure me out, you know, examine the competition."

"Right," Lisa said, nodding her head and smiling sweetly at him. His stomach churned. Crap. He didn't want to give Lisa the wrong idea, but he was also pretty sure that woman (no matter how hot she was) was not checking him out.

He scratched his chin. Although, if she was . . .

"Hey, hey, Robbie!" Big Bass called, shuffling his large figure over. "Homicide in Monterey and the cops are moving in. Now's the time, you in?"

Robbie's gut clenched as he nodded his head. It was a damn shame they could only race at the cost of somebody's life, but that's just how their world had to work. Robbie dug into the pockets of his jeans and pulled out several hundred dollar bills which Big Bass happily accepted.

"Cool, man, I'll see you at the start." Big Bass said then hastily headed off.

This was it. His time to shine.

"You got this, Robbie!" Lisa cheered, giving him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Yeah, I got a lot of money riding on you, man!" Juan teased with a pat on his back. "So, don't fuck this up!"

Robbie laughed as he brushed Juan aside and opened the door to his Charger. "I don't plant to," he stated as he got in and slammed the door shut.

"Yeah, that's my boy!" Juan hollered.

The crowds of people quickly rushed to get out of the way as Robbie and the others drover their cars to the hastily thrown together starting line.

Manny was already there in his tricked out '08 Chevy Cobalt SS. Robbie chuckled. The damn thing looked like it just rolled off the set of a "Fast and Furious" movie with its silver paint job and shimmery purple flames on the side. Yep, it was a very Manolo-style car, alright.

Robbie sidled up his Charger alongside him. "Nice flames," he teased. "Think they might help?"

Manny sneered at him. "I hope you got a good look at my ass, Reyes, because that's all you're going to be seeing." He lowered his sunglasses down, pointing two V-sign fingers at his eyes then then over towards him.

Robbie snorted as he shook his head then noticed as the red Corvette pulled up on his right between him and Little Emilio's Honda Civic. So, he was going to be racing her after all. Robbie sat there admiring the fierceness on the newcomer's face as her hands tapped hastily on something in her dash. Her fingers moved with such a graceful dexterity, it was more like she was playing a piano than a car. He grinned. Yeah, this could prove to be a very interesting race.

He focused back up front as Big Bass came to stand out in front of the four cars. "Alright, alright, you guys know the rules, one lap around, first one back here is the winner, and if I--"

Robbie tuned him out. After nearly four years doing this, he knew the man's words by heart.

"We got this, Lucy," he whispered to his car as he did before every race. She had rarely failed him before, tonight wasn't going to be the exception despite what Manny jeered. Robbie gave Lucy's dash a gentle pat as Big Bass finished his speech and stepped off to one of the sides where the crowd of people from the parking lot gathered. His friends stood off to his left, clapping and giving him thumbs-up.

"Ready, racers?" Big Bass hollered.

Robbie revved Lucy's engine, which let out a guttural roar and flared the flaps on her blower. They were ready.

As Big Bass raised his arm to the sky, it was as if the world fell silent. Robbie couldn't even breathe as he waited, his stomach a churning mess and his foot twitching over the pedal.

Everything happened in slow motion and at the speed light at the same time. Big Bass' hand fell and Robbie took off faster than a bat out of hell.

He sunk back into his leather seat, hands tight on the wheel, as Lucy surged forward. His heart sputtered into overdrive, coursing energy through his veins. Everything was a blur around him with the only fixed point in his universe being the open road ahead and the needle climbing on his speedometer.

The biggest smile grew on Robbie's face as butterflies swarmed his chest. He swore there was no better feeling in the world than going fast in a car. With the windows down and the air rushing across his face, he was flying. It was magical, the indescribable connection between man and machine that made his whole body tingle. Whenever Robbie got in the driver seat, it was as if his heart and Lucy's engine became one.

Robbie shook himself from his euphoric stupor as the first turn came up ahead. He checked his rearview mirror to see he had gotten a good head start with Manny trailing at least a car behind and the other two lagging just behind him. Shifting gears, Robbie easily made the turn and maintained his lead.

They raced through the near empty streets of East L.A. like demons in the night, lacing the air with the acrid smell of burning rubber and exhaust. Although Manny would catch up with him at the turns, Robbie would still easily pull ahead. He laughed. Manny was probably fuming by now underneath those ridiculous shades.

The racers made one last turn and they were down to the final stretch. Robbie revved Lucy's engine and she roared like a black jaguar. This was it. There was no stopping them now.

He glanced at the rearview mirror and his eyes widened. While Manny was still behind him, Ms. Corvette was rapidly catching up to them. Fire and smoke spewed out of the back of her car, sending her forward at breakneck speeds. Robbie's jaw dropped. Were those rockets?! God, she hadn't been kidding when she said that her car had a few tricks.

Manny seemed to finally notice her sudden approach as his eyes bugged out to the size of saucer plates before narrowing into snake-like slits. "Not today, bitch!" He spat over the rushing wind.

As the newcomer tried to pass Manny by, he swerved his car into her. The harsh sound of smashing metal filled the night briefly followed by the shrill screaming of tires. Robbie's stomach dropped and his fingers went cold as the Corvette quickly spiraled out of control. Her brakes screeched as her car skidded into the brick exterior of a store, grinding in a spray of sparks to a halt.

Robbie couldn't breathe. His body was numbed. Was she okay? How could she be after a crash like that?

He glanced forward where victory only lay a few yards ahead then back to the steaming Corvette. His heart panged tight in his chest as he slammed on his brakes and peeled his car off to side of the road.

Robbie gritted his teeth as Manny passed him by with resounding hollers and whoops followed by Little Emilio. Once they were gone, he peeled Lucy around and sped back to the Corvette. Screeching to a standstill a few feet away from the wreck, Robbie wriggled out of his seatbelt and threw open the door. He hopped out, only stopping for a moment to slam his door shut before rushing over.

The air stunk heavy of burnt rubber and leaking fuel. His gut heaved, but he managed to make sure his dinner didn't make a second appearance. Glass littered the ground along with a few torn pieces of metal. Luckily, the car wasn't on fire, but steam billowed out of the front like an active volcano. His heart was beating faster than a jackhammer as he slowed down near the driver's side. Robbie held his breath and prayed that he wasn't about to find a dead body.

The woman lay in the driver's seat with a deflated bag on her lap and several bits of shattered glass in her hair. She was pale, her eyes half-closed and a line of blood trickling down her forehead. A sweeping coolness ran through his body when he saw the rapid rising and falling of her chest, and he damn near collapsed onto the ground. She was alive, a little battered and bruised with a few cuts on her face, but alive.

"Hey, hey, stay with me, you're okay," he said, gingerly resting a hand on her shoulder.

The woman jolted awake as if his was lightning. She gasped for air, her wide eyes searching around until they landed on him. His heart fluttered wildly in his chest. Her chocolate brown eyes, even if they were reminiscent of a deer in a headlight, were gorgeous. He hadn't been able to notice it before, but now, with their faces only a foot apart, he could truly appreciate how mesmerizing they were. They even had little flecks of gold that shimmered like stars.

"Wh-what?" She coughed out.

Robbie blinked his eyes. Right. There were important things to worry about right now. He took in a deep breath. "You were just in an accident," he explained in his gentlest tone. "But, it's okay. You're okay."

She nodded her head, but her eyes still seemed dazed. Shakily, she undid her seatbelt and Robbie backed up as she opened the driver's door.

"Hey, hey, take it easy," Robbie said, offering a hand as she slowly staggered out of her car. The woman swatted it aside with her left hand, but immediately doubled over, crying out in pain. His body tensed. "Hey, let me take a look?"

She watched him warily, considering him like a wild animal and wondering if he would bite. She said nothing as she held out her left arm. Robbie slowly unzipped the sleeve of her jacket and smoothed it back. He then held her arm in one of his hands while the other softly tapped up her arm. When his fingers touched halfway to her elbow, she flinched, sucking air sharply through gritted teeth.

Robbie nodded. "Your arm's fractured, but not completely broken. I could take you to the hospital."

"No!"

His shoulders jumped at the harshness of her voice. The woman roughly brushed him off with her good arm, but she still winced at the pain the movement caused her injury. "No hospitals. I-I can't."

He held his arms up, showing her his palms. There was a dark fear in her eyes like an animal caught in a corner. His head tilted a little. Was it just something against hospitals, or was she afraid she could be arrested if she turned up at one? Either way, she probably wasn't going to tell him. "Okay," he agreed. "No hospitals."

She nodded, her body slowly relaxing once more.

"But you really need to get that checked out," he said, stepping closer.

She stepped back. "I'll be fine." She looked away from him and her eyes widened. "But Lola won't."

Robbie followed her gaze and immediately cringed. The once beautiful Corvette was now in a terribly dismal state. The windshield was gone with only a few shards of glass hanging around the frame. The front end was concaved in where it hit a street sign and the hood now stood up like a pitched tent. The right side rested against the wall, but if the missing side mirror was any sign, Robbie figured it wasn't looking too pretty, either. At least, the left side was only dented in slightly from when Manny bumped into her, and it seemed like the back end was fine, as well. All in all, it could have been worse.

"Shit!" She muttered under her breath, running a hand through her short, dark locks. "Coulson is going to kill me."

Robbie cocked his head to the side. Coulson? Who was Coulson? Her boyfriend? Her really handsome auto-enthusiast boyfriend? He sighed as he shook his head. What was he doing? Now, again, was not the time for such thoughts.

Tears brimmed in her eyes that threatened to spill over any second, but she bit her bottom lip and took in a deep, shaky breath to force them back. He raised his brow. God, she really was tough.

"Hey, it'll be okay." Robbie walked up to her as she examined the front end of her car and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'm a mechanic and I've been able to fix up cars in much worse states than this."

"Wait, really?" Her narrow eyes flicked between his face and his hand, but she didn't make any moves to oppose. "You can fix her?"

He nodded. Robbie still remembered when his uncle rolled Lucy into Canelo's one night. Poor thing was barely a car at all, and now it was the baddest ride in all of East L.A. If he could do that with almost nothing, he was certain he could fix her Corvette.

"Yeah. Well, it might be a little heard to get some parts, depending on what we are working with, but I could probably get it done in a few weeks, one month tops."

The woman tilted her head as she stared at him like he was one of the strangest puzzles she's ever seen. The kind of puzzle where you have no idea how it got put together but the end product was undeniably amazing. Robbie grinned. It was great to see her being in his place for a change.

"Thanks," she murmured.

He smiled as he removed his hand from her shoulder and held it out. "I'm Robbie. Robbie Reyes."

She slowly accepted his hand, sharing a small, dazzling smile back that made the stars pale in comparison. "Daisy."

[xcheybaby]

Grace

Disclaimer: Some names of people and places have been changed for privacy reasons

“Cheyenne!”

        I turn around and a long-haired little girl comes barreling across the room and into my arms. I hug her as tight as I do every Wednesday night when I come to the town;s humble church to tutor my favorite first grader. The large meeting place turned cafeteria has large round tables with folding chairs filling the space. The small windows toward the top of the walls don’t let in much light, but the bright LED bulbs make up for the absence of natural light.

        “How have you been, Grace? I missed you this week,” I tell her. She giggles and tells me that she missed me too.

        “I made you something at school today!” She exclaims.

        “Oh, you did? What is it?”

        “It’s a surprise. Close your eyes.” I close them as tight as I can and I hear her digging around in her backpack. Finally, the rustling of papers stop and she taps my shoulder to let me know I can open my eyes. I open them and in front of me is a hand drawn picture of two girls, one tall and one short.

“It’s me and you!” she says as she hands it to me. “I made it during free time at school. My teacher helped me spell the words.” I look at the top of the page and “I love you this much” was scrawled in her sloppy handwriting.

        “See, my arms are out like this because I love you thiiiisss much.” She holds out her arms for another hug. I hug her tight once more. This is the last time I'll see Grace and I don't know how to tell her. The Study Buddy program is coming to an end for the school year, and I won’t be able to volunteer again next year. I decide that I won't tell her until it is absolutely necessary. My heart breaks at the possibility that I won't see my little Grace again. I can feel the sting in my nose as I fight back the tears.

"Come on, let's go get some dinner, okay?" I pull away from her so she can't hear my sniffling.

"It's mac and cheese today!"

 I remember the shy and scared little girl who was assigned to me for Study Buddies at the local church at the beginning of the school year. I remember praying for a girl when they were reading the names off on that first night. I mean, I would have been happy either way, but something about tutoring a young girl made me excited. I wanted to be a role model for her. And plus, all the young boys in this program were bouncing off the walls 24/7. I didn’t think I could handle their never ending energy for very long. But when they called my name and I walked up to the front of the room and saw Grace, my heart immediately felt both elated and saddened at the same time. I was ecstatic that I was assigned a her, but she was so scared that first day. Unlike many of the other kids who had been a part of this program for a while, this was her first day, too. The program leader, Val, introduced me to this very nervous looking child.

“Cheyenne, this is Miss Grace.” Val placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “And Grace, this is your new study buddy, Miss Cheyenne.” Grace stared at her feet. “Why don’t you say hi to her.”

Without glancing up, Grace spoke in the quietest voice, “Hello, Miss Cheyenne.” I bent down to her level and smiled. “You can just call me Cheyenne if you want.” Grace looked up at me for an instant and then back down at the floor.

“Okay.” She said.

 Watching her now, bouncing through the meal line, talking with all of the other first and second graders at a million miles an hour, smiling, laughing, it’s like she is a completely different girl. She is much more outgoing and confident than when I first met her. I’d like to take some credit for that. It makes my heart full to see her so happy and unafraid. After getting her tray, she practically spills her juice fast-walking back to our table.

“Be careful,” I warn her, but I can’t hide my laughter.

“I’m sorry, mac ‘n cheese is just my favorite and I couldn’t wait!” She flashes the brightest smile as she shoves the first spoonful into her mouth. “Aren’t you gonna get some?” She mumbles through her cheese filled mouth.

“I already ate before I came,” I answer her. She shrugs and continues eating her meal.

I hadn’t eaten before. Truth is, I was too nervous to eat. Trying to figure out what to say and when to tell her that I probably wouldn’t see her for a while, if ever, left my stomach churning. She finishes her last bite as Val claps her hands.

“Okay everyone, time to get started. Let’s all throw our plates away, please.” I grab Grace plate for her and stand up.

“I’ll get this tonight. Just grab your backpack and we’ll go pick a spot upstairs to do your work, okay?” She complies and we make our way up the stairs to the kids rooms. Our favorite couch is taken tonight and Grace pouts. “Ugh, I wanted to sit there!”

“Hey, it’s okay. We have to give some other kids a turn on the couch, right? We can’t hog it every week.” She sighs and picks a table on the other side of the room, near the coloring station. This girl loves to color. Every time we finish her homework and reading, she makes a beeline to the coloring station to get some crayons and paper. The church didn’t have coloring books, so I’d draw the outlines of trees, or stars, or farm animals, and she would color them in.

 For that past Christmas, I had spent hours upon hours making a special gift for her. She had told me once that she didn’t have any coloring books or crayons at home, and that gave me an idea. I stayed up for hours the night before I saw her for the Study Buddy Christmas party, drawing outlines of scenes for her to color in and even printing out some free Disney coloring pages I had found online. I compiled them all into a book, bought her a huge pack of crayons (you know, the 64 pack with the sharpener on the back — the one all the cool kids had), and wrapped it all up with a big bow. She opened it the next evening and she was confused. I had to read the cover of her new coloring book out loud before she understood what it was.

“It says ‘Grace’s Coloring Book.’” I pointed out each word as I read them aloud to her. Her eyes lit up and she squealed with delight. She put the book down carefully and wrapped her thin arms around me as tight as she could.

“It’s perfect,” she whispered to me.

 That was about five months ago and since then, we’ve colored a page together every Wednesday night. Each page a collaboration between the two of us. When the book was all colored up, I bought her a new one. And when the book was all colored up, I bought her a new one. Each page a collaboration between the two of us. I’ve been lucky enough to receive a page or two from her as presents and I proudly hang them in my dorm room.

But tonight, we will not be coloring. Grace has an ungodly amount of math homework for a first grader. “What are these teachers thinking?” I think to myself.  I help her through the math as best as I can, because sometimes I even struggle with first grade level mathematics. Then it’s on to geography. I help her identify all the states she has learned so far and she tells me their capitols.

After we finish her last page of work, she zips up her backpack and then looks at me with a gigantic smile. I know what she wants. I turn around to the bookshelf behind me and pluck out the same book we read together every Wednesday night, Where do Balloons Go?. We take turns reading each page out loud. She struggles with a particularly large word, and I help her sound it out.

“Sk-” I say. She repeats

“-eye”, “-eye”

“-scer”, “-scer”

“-ape”, “-ape”

“-er!” she finishes. “I remember now! It says skyscraper!” She giggles and continues onto the next line.

It’s amazing how far she’s come since she first started. Before I started tutoring Grace, she was below her grade level in reading. She could hardly read any of the books the church had in their small children’s library. I had to scour the shelves for something for her to start with. Now, I’m not crediting myself for teaching her to read, but I could tell she wasn’t getting any help from anyone else. Her teacher had too many students to be able to focus on Grace specifically. Her mother has two other kids, another on the way, and is too busy to help her with school work. I think I was the only one available. Having the appreciation for reading that I do, I was happy to help this young girl become a more efficient and passionate reader. By the time our tutoring was over, she had caught up with the other students and was now equal with them in level and able to join their reading group instead of being assigned an easier book all by herself. I was so proud of her. I still am.

Hearing her read words she had struggled so much with only a few months ago fills my heart with joy. She celebrates every word she learns and every book she completes. This book, Where do Balloons Go?, was even more special for one other reason. It had stickers. And not only normal stickers, but they were, as Grace called them, “magic stickers.” They could be removed and reused over and over again. This meant that every time she successfully read the book, she’s allowed to play with the stickers in the back of the book. She was able to create her own story with these stickers and it’s always a really fun way to end the night.

Val comes up the stairs and announces that since this was the last Study Buddy session for the school year, we will be taking a group photo in the gymnasium. I suck in a sharp breath and hold it in for a few seconds. I was having so much fun reminiscing my time with Grace and reading with her that I had almost completely forgotten. This is my last night with her. My class schedule for the following school year does not leave room for the weekly Wednesday night Study Buddy hour..

She grabs my hand and says, “Come on, we have to get a good spot!” I let her pull me along and the other leaders usher us to our spots for the photo. We are two of the first people to be placed in our spots which means we had a little time to wait before the photo was taken.

“Cheyenne,” Grace says in her smallest voice.

“Yes?”

“Are you coming back when I go back to school next year?” She looks up at me and waits for my answer. Damn her puppy dog eyes.

“I’m not sure,” I lie. I knew I wouldn’t be back, but I didn’t — no, couldn’t — admit that to her. I didn’t want to leave her without hope. But, I knew that wasn’t fair to her. Tears well up in the corner of my eyes and threaten to spill over.

“It’s okay, Cheyenne. I’ll miss you, too.” She hugs me and buries her face into my side. I bend down and hug her back tightly. In the last moments I spent with Grace, a flood of thoughts overrun my mind. This girl has impacted me infinitely more than I ever thought imaginable. Grace has taught me that I should never give up and to work through my problems even if I become frustrated. As I watched her overcome her obstacles with reading, she taught me how to overcome my own struggles. She taught me what it’s like to love someone else and that friendship can come from all people of different sizes and ages. Grace will always have a place in my heart no matter where I am. And as the photograph is taken, Grace whispers, “I love you, Cheyenne,” and I swear every muscle in my heart breaks.