#makes me want to burn some headquarters again

[uku-lelevillain]

i rewatched wednesday and really i don’t understand how this show could have more success than lockwood and co apart from the huge advertising it got

because yes it’s a good show the vibes are great and the plot is well written but it’s also very cartoonish

i understand why people like it and it comes from a very well known franchise so that’s an advantage

but you will never convince me that lockwood and co couldn’t have gotten the same amount of attention if netflix had actually promoted it as much as it promoted wednesday

[pampushky]

ive been watching him for my entire life

Alpha! Lando Norris/Omega! Lauda! Reader - chapter 1 - 6.1k

TW: Scene of attempted SA, and the abuser never referred to by name. Sexism (but in the A/B/O sense). Self-harm and depressive episodes.

Themes: Exploration of what disabilities, PTSD, and chronic pain look like in the A/B/O world. If you have input about what that may look like, dm me. Slow burn. So much so you're not sure if it's even burning at times.

also yeah Loscar is canon it's my au I can do what I fucking want

Leave your feedback in the comments/feel free to dm me about that shit if you don't feel comfy dropping an anon or comment.

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Mid January. 2024 Paris.

The hallway outside the trial room in the FIA headquarters is deceptively calm. Silent, save for the voices in the room behind you. You’d given your statement. Explained everything that had happened during your past two years at Williams, first with Nicholas Latifi, and then with Logan. Trying to do something with a car that was, in the kindest words, a tractor. Logan sits beside you, with a similar thousand-yard stare, just disassociating into space. Trying to trace the pattern of the carpet. 

“I should have been more— more perceptive,” Logan croaks, and you squeeze his hand, and shake your head. “Jesus. I— I tried to tell them everything. Everything I remembered from before–-”

“Thank you,” your voice is faint. Weak. Unlike you.

“Of course,” Logan squeezes your hand. You squeeze it back. “Always.”

You still remember the pit wall. Having to brush against his elbows occasionally. Knowing he did it on purpose some days, trying to provoke you. Going so far as to send you things coated in his scent when you were in heat, to try and provoke a bond sickness. Saved only by your brothers, curled close to you, letting you sleep in their arms as your fever raged. You were lucky your heats weren’t— weren’t consistently like that. More so just like a terrible fever and migraine, thanks to your medication. 

One pill to keep you from entering a real heat, morning. Two pills to help ease the brain fog from your head injury, morning and night. Another single pill to be taken whenever the pain gets too bad for you to function, any time of day. Anxiety medication, morning. Hormonal amplifiers to make up for the scent glands damaged by the fire all those years ago, morning and night. Scent blockers to mask your scent, morning. In total eight pills a day at your worst, perhaps nine.  

You croon nervously, despite knowing you’re safe here. That just inside the room behind you, past the heavy oak doors, are your grandfather and your uncles brothers. They’d never let anything happen to you. Not again. 

His elbow brushing against yours during the last lap of the race, encouraging Alex, despite his pace and his spot on the grid. Logan thanking you for being his engineer and friend during everything. You sit along the pit wall, silently, as celebrations rock the grid, and he appears in front of you, trying to make small talk, before following as you try to escape it, not wanting to talk to him, even as he looms behind you. His grip on the back of your neck, smothering the only bond you had, to Niki, to your pack. 

The near-toxic scent smothers you because of how close he is. Pushing you behind a stack of tires as you try to fight back, baring your teeth and thrashing while he manages to shove a need into your upper thigh, right through your pants. You yelp, and kick, trying to get any attention towards you, while most of the garage is empty. You feel him tearing at the collar of your shirt, ripping at it, pushing you into the tires. You bring your head into his nose, feeling the gush of blood against your face as he squeals and falls backward a few steps. 

You can’t smell anything besides his blood on your face, the metallic scent making you gag. When he turns to look at you, his face stained red, you growl, your lips drawn back over your teeth, trying to edge along the wall to get away from him. 

With a snarl, he leaps at you, pinning you to the wall, both hands wrapped around your neck, cutting off your airway. You thrash, and just as you think you’re going to pass out, the weight of his hands disappears from your neck. You stay where you are, leaning against the wall. Watching as Logan snarls furiously, pinning the other Alpha to the ground with ease, his long canines bared and coming close to the man’s neck, threatening to tear and rip and end whatever pathetic life he lived—

“I should have done more,” Logan leans down, his head in his hands. 

“You almost killed him,” you whisper, and that seems to startle the driver even more. “You almost killed him. I think that’s enough.”

The two of you sit in silence until Logan’s lawyer and his manager leave the room, closing the door softly behind them. For the brief moment that the doors are open, you hear him screaming his voice hoarse as the judgment comes ever closer. 

“The FIA won’t be pressing any charges,” The lawyer says softly while Logan continues to keep his head down. “Neither will—”

“Don’t say his name,” Logan looks up, interrupting the lawyer before he can even say something. There’s a fire in his words, a rare fury. “Don’t. I don’t— she doesn’t—”

“I apologize, I forgot about that.” The lawyer says, glancing over to look at you. You look presentable now. Nothing like the blurry images the paparazzi had gotten of you without any of your makeup to hide all the burns. Your skin looks more even, the uneven bumps and indents from the mottled scarring across your jaw partially hidden by concealer and foundation. The scars get more severe as they cross your upper cheek and the top of your nose. That’s the only part that’s harder to hide, even when you’ve covered it fully in makeup. 

“It’s time to go, Logan,” 

He looks at you with uncharacteristic panic. He’s the opposite of most alpha stereotypes. You’re glad Oscar’s found his way back to him, and that you’ve gotten to witness the sweet courtship start. He pulls you into a tight hug, and that’s when you finally crumble.

“You’re gonna be okay without me,” You whisper, voice shaking. “You’re gonna be fucking fantastic, Lo.”

“I’m so sorry,” Is all he can murmur, practically folding over you and holding you closer. “Maybe if I—”

“It’s okay. I’ll still be on the grid.”

“But it won’t be the same,”

“No. It won’t,” You choke out, as Logan pulls away. Both of you newly aged by the experience. You won’t be there to defend Logan from James. Logan won’t be there to understand the odd homesickness for a country you only partially remember, stuck between European and American. 

You feel small as Logan is led away by his manager and lawyer. His scent fading as the seconds turn to minutes, and then suddenly an hour has passed. Leaving you alone in the hallway until your brothers can get there. By the time they do arrive (two hours later), you’ve been chewing on your fingers and palms enough to make them bleed. Mathias and Lukas know you well enough to have already brought bandages and towels to help clean and treat the new wounds. Before this, you’d not been chewing or clawing at yourself for nearly a year and a half. Your therapist had looked devastated when you’d turned in the little chip she’d given you for not self-harming. 

There’s screaming from inside the room, before Niki bursts out, snarling a remark over his shoulder before he catches your eye, and softens. Your sire, despite his age, despite the fact that he has been told by his doctor many times that he needs to calm down, to be kinder to his aging body and new kidney, despite everything that should be holding him back, bends to knock his forehead against yours. One of his hands comes to the nape of your neck, softly rubbing the paternal bond he’d left there, claiming you as his child rather than a descendant. 

“Maus,” The feel of his scarred hands is familiar, comforting. His scent is even more so. Like spruce trees and slightly burnt sugar. Looking at you with red-rimmed irises that show his designation, his secondary sex, while he looms over you protectively. He sees the new bandages around your hands and the new bulkiness of your sleeves. 

“Oh, Maus…” Niki leans down, and croons 

If he wasn’t in active recovery from the kidney transplant, he’d likely be curling around you in his wolf form, just as he had done when you were little and first placed in his care after—

“You’re safe here. You’re safe.” 

It’s moments like this that you’re glad that your sense of smell was so destroyed after the fire. You’re grateful that you could only catch the faint scent of those within a small area around you. Because all you can smell is your father, your sire, who would burn the world down for you if it meant making you smile. That Mathias and Lukas— your brothers, not uncles, never uncles, too close to be considered just uncles to you— mark a silent guard beside you, Lukas in canine form, letting you hide your face in his dusty blond-brown fur. Mathias stands silently beside you, but with his hand held tightly in yours.

Memories of your first moments with them. The terror. Sleeping in the pillow forts and nests you’d built up until this very point in time. Always your guardians. Always by your side. In the hospital and beyond. 

You’re chewing on your thumbnail, claw extended, and Niki looks at you with a worried gaze, before softly reaching over and squeezing your shoulder.

The door opens again, and you hear shouting in a voice that haunted your dreams from within the room and then more of it, very quickly coming in your direction. Not the exit that you’d been told he would be made to use when the judgment was finally placed. 

You can just barely catch a whiff of the scent— overpowering and choking you as you tried to work, tried to examine all of the strategies that could help Logan succeed in last year’s car while the scent makes it hard to think, to breathe— before it’s nearly upon you entirely, with the Alpha who had made your past two years with Williams utter hell staring down at you, enraged, trying to push past your brothers to get to you, snarling and snapping at you as Niki shoves you forcefully behind him. 

“Tell them— tell them you accepted my courtship! You wanted this—”

Two officials start to drag him away. But you can still remember his scent. How weak he’d made you feel when you were trying to work on the car. Hating how he had purred and crooned with your every movement. Making sure you were always choking on his scent. Lukas rumbles in anger beside you, rising to stare down the man, hiding you from further view with his giant body. But of course he continues. 

“You accepted my gifts! You wanted this—”

No. You hadn’t wanted any of this. You’d just wanted to work on the cars. To help your friend grow and achieve. 

“As if anyone else would have you—”

Mathias snarls, and you can only pray that your grip on his hand is enough to stop him from lunging at the offending man.

“— you useless, crippled omega—”

Niki lunges this time, snarling, the old man’s frankly colossal canine form pining him to the ground with ease. Your sire's teeth just millimeters from tearing his throat out, stopped only by your panicked whine. Such a rare noise from you. You won’t have those you care about kill this man, this weak excuse for an Alpha. You don’t want to think of the heavy scent of his blood when you’re near them, seeking comfort from your family.

“Get him out of my sight,” Niki groans, when just a second later, court officers charge from the room. His canine form melts away, and he huffs, sitting down in one of the stiff chairs with a wince that you are hyper-aware of. Mathias looks at you with deep worry in his eyes. But you’re numb. Watching him get dragged away. Your thigh twinges from where he’d stabbed you with the needle. Part of it had broken off inside of you, removed at the hospital while the FIA officials tried to smooth things over. 

It twinges again when the verdict is read as you’re gently shuffled back into the room. He’s not allowed back in. It’s been shown he can’t control himself. 

“—Guilty on all counts, and shall be henceforth blacklisted from employment by all motorsports under the jurisdiction of the FIA. Omega Lauda shall be awarded a sum off—”

All you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears as you hold your arms tightly. Claws slowly sinking into the fresh bandages and redoing all the damage your brothers had worked so hard to fix.

Early February 2024. Woking. 

Lando knows he’s a big deal. He’s one of the most popular drivers, with a rabid fanbase that was willing to go to bat for him for just about anything, even when he was the one at fault. Edits were made when he so much as breathed. All that he doesn’t have is that elusive first win, but he has a feeling this season will be different. Be it how refreshed he feels after spending some time back in his childhood home with his parents and siblings, just to spend time as a pack for the first time in several years, all six of them together. 

His family is perfect. An alpha and omega set of parents, with two alphas and two omegas for pups, all rather successful. His brother, a former world champion in kart racing, now with a loving mate and the cutest pup in the world. His sister, a showjumper quickly rising through the ranks. All successful and perfect and beautiful. Lando can’t help but puff his chest out a bit, because that’s his pack. 

There’s an odd buzz in the air when he arrives, and through the giant glass windows, he can see how many people are gathered in the building, all wearing bright orange. As he comes closer, the overflowed parking has been filled. He parks his car in his specific spot, right next to Oscar, who’s already there, just not by his car. He’s just about ready to head to the on-site cafe when Andrea pops out of nowhere to drag him by his arm somewhere, cursing slightly.

“Mate— what’s got you in such a mood—” Lando whines, already feeling like the team principal is doing way too much this early in the morning. 

“Did you not read any of your emails or texts?” Andrea hisses, the Beta turning on his heels to grab Lando by both his shoulders, looking straight into the young driver’s eyes with a fury only seen when he’d been messing around in the garage and nearly broke the experimental back wing during testing in the summer. “Lando Norris, I could gut you right now—”

“What did I do?” Lando whines again, high-pitched and childish, and Andrea runs his hands down his face, cursing fluently in Italian, while also asking the Virgin Mary for patience, based on how many times he hears a hail mary tumble past the team principal’s lips. 

“You’re late. An hour late. Oscar, Zak, and I have been calling you for nearly that entire time and you’ve been silent.”

“...Late for what?” Lando utters. His phone had been dead, constantly forgotten to get plugged into the charger. Today had been no different. 

“O Maria, dammi la pazienza e la forza— your new race engineer is being introduced? Today?”

“What?! But I don’t even know who he is—”

“It’s a she, first of all, and maybe you’d know if you checked your emails—”

The conversation must be attracting attention, because soon, Oscar is also by his side, looking mildly disappointed in the older man. The omega’s scent has just the hint of rotting oranges, but other than that, it’s normal, like seasoned salt, charcoal, and oranges. 

“Wonderful first impression, really. She’s already thrilled to not have gotten to talk to you yet,” Oscar chimes in, and Lando groans, sending a withering glare in his direction that just bounces off of the Australian. “Now you just get to improvise your way through a panel about how excited you are to be working with her.”

“I don’t even know who she is!” Lando finally barks, his scent turning a bit panicked. It’s like a thunderstorm and a hot, dry heat, smelling how burnt food tastes.

“Mate, you’re fucking kidding me—,” Oscar starts, only to be interrupted by a polite cough behind Lando. 

“She is right behind you, Mr. Norris,” The voice is monotone. Icy. Damn near robotic. And he knows it immediately because you’re the current star of most engineering circles around the grid and the damn talk of every single person they’d interviewed to replace Will when it became clear Lando needed a change. You’d managed to pull decency and consistent points into Williams of all teams. It baffles him, honestly. How you’d managed that, he has no idea, but he assumes it’s through pure spite and fury.

You’re styled elegantly, with a tailored set of pleated, pale gray slacks and a cozy-looking, chunky knit black sweater, tucked into the top of your pants. Black dress shoes. Somehow, the slacks don’t even look bulky, cinching high on your waist, and it’s flattering how slimming the entire outfit is, despite all the known laws of fashion saying that this shouldn’t be such a flattering look. The neck of the sweater is in a mock style, clearly giving the statement of a private individual, hiding any possible claiming bonds. Your hair is in a perfectly messy but neat braid down your back, with two long pieces pulled from the top to slightly frame your face. 

So plain. But elegant.

Everything about you sets Lando off a bit. And he doesn’t know why. But you just tilt your head at him. As if he’s some puzzle for you to fix. It doesn’t help that he can’t get even a trace of your scent. Only the sterile odor that came with cleaning supplies and medicine. Almost like you’re on heavy medications or that you sleep in a hospital. It unnerves him. Lando’s heard a few rumors that you’re an alpha, and that you simply want to smell that way so as to not be assigned a certain stereotype or intimidate anyone.

After all, word on the grid was you left Williams because of how they’d handled the situation between the other race engineer and the anonymous omega colleague who’d been assaulted. 

So you at least had morals. 

“Oscar had mentioned you were…. A bit lax.” You murmur, icy eyes flicking up and down his form, your tone impassive and your stance closed off. “I hadn’t imagined you would be this bad, though.” 

“I’m actually quite good, normally.” 

“About checking your email and phone? Or should I put a tracker on you?” 

“Hilarious.” 

“I’m aware I am.” You say so dryly, so bluntly, that Lando feels one of his eyes twitch as a stylist manages to help pull him together to look somewhat presentable using the wardrobes saved. You just talk softly with Oscar the entire time, a fond look in your eyes as you talk to the Omega driver. 

Right. Logan. Oscar. You’d been Logan’s engineer before. You’d probably gotten to know Oscar through that. When Lando’s finally presentable enough, the stylist makes a final adjustment to your outfit by quickly weaving an orange ribbon around the end of your braid. 

“...I will not be wearing this when I am working,” you examine the ribbon, frowning. “You’re lucky to have me in this now.”

“What, don’t like papaya?”

“No. Red is better.” You just murmur, still frowning at the ribbon, before letting it go. “Vati won in red. All three times.”

“Well, change is inevitable,” Lando fakes a sigh, and this makes you scowl. “I like the orange better, anyway.”

“You’ve yet to win, anyway,” You dismiss his comment with a simple wave of your hand, and go to follow Zak out onto the stage, leaving Lando a bit baffled. Oscar just snickers, patting him on the back and leaving the Brit scrambling to follow the both of you. 

The press conference goes immaculately. You’re the darling of the media, who seem to love how dry you are with every single answer. Just like Niki had been, even when you border on insulting most of the journalists asking the question. You look about ready to choke yourself with the wire of the microphone in front of you when someone asks you your opinion on Rush. 

“She thinks McLaren looked better in red,” Lando grins, looking at you with a mischievous grin. 

“McLaren had more wins in red.” You say bluntly, causing laughter to erupt. Lando’s ears turn pink. “We shall see if that is to change.”

He’s quiet for the rest of the press conference, until…

“Any statement on why you left Williams?”

You go rigid. Just for a second. And from where you sit beside him, Lando catches just the tiniest scent of anxiety on you, under all the sterile, medicinal odor that permeates the air around you. 

“....I thought that was obvious,” You mumble into the mic, before clearing your throat. “I, ah, don’t take kindly to anyone— especially someone who was considered my partner— trying to take advantage of someone. So.” 

There’s a tremor to your voice, barely detectable. And under the table, you’re squeezing your knee. Your hand shakes as the question repeats in your mind. Any statement on why you left Williams? The crowd is suddenly not safe. As he looks at you from every face, every set of eyes now staring at you, even when you know he’s not there. There’d been heightened security, Andrea and Zak had promised that. Oscar was here, already with a nest in his private suite at the factory, prepared for you to crash in when the press conference was over. You try to speak, to play the part of the stoic Alpha the grid has assigned to you, but your tongue is dry in your mouth. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see movement in the back of the crowd. Your hindbrain croons, and you feel yourself fighting off the urge to turn canine, to simply burst from the stage and run towards where you know is safe. He’s not there, Zak promised. He will never be anywhere near you again. 

You’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe—

“What a stupid fucking question,” Lando blurts out, a snarl in his voice. “It’s obvious why she left. She has morals and doesn’t tolerate that kind of shit. Ask a proper question or fuck off,” 

Zak calls an end to the press conference quickly after, and you make your way off stage quickly, retching into a trashcan the moment you’re hidden from the cameras and watching eyes. Oscar is beside you, stroking your back, trying to comfort you, as he had that first night, curled beside you in your own nest while Logan sits on guard at the entrance to the room. Making sure that he won’t be there to find you. Even when he is being held by the FIA and local authorities for investigation, and Niki is already on a private jet to make sure you’re okay. You’re not in the hotel room in the UAE, you’re in Woking. 

“Fucking stupid twats,” Lando spits, as he walks off stage, and nearly misses the fact that you’re puking. It’s almost comical how he does a double take, and scrambles over to you. “Shit, are you good?”

“No,” you say dryly, head still in the trash can. “But— thank you, for your defense.” 

“Yeah— I— I’m assuming you knew, the omega. The one affected, I mean.” Lando babbles, and it dawns on you briefly that Lando doesn’t know. 

The only people who do know are just Zak and Andrea— it’d been a big part of the negotiations around you being hired— and of course, Oscar, who you’d called the first night after presenting. You’re partially thankful for that, because then it means that even fewer know your designation. He really hadn’t checked any of his emails. 

“You could say that.” You mumble, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Oscar’s partially frozen, until he just continues to comfort you, wordlessly understanding that you don’t want to tell Lando. “We— we were close.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. Please pass the message on that what they experienced— fuck, man, it’s fucking inexcusable—” Lando runs a hand through his curls, clearly stressed by the entire incident that had just happened at the press conference. So you keep your mouth shut, and clap him on the shoulder. Trying to act like the Beta or Alpha he thinks you are. 

“Enough about that. They’re— they got rewarded enough money to retire. They’re doing fine. Good therapist. Good house. Service dog to keep them safe.”

Your voice sounds so empty, but it’s not a lie. You’d been given enough money to quit nearly three times over. And you’d used it to start the search for a service dog that could help you with deep pressure therapy and watch your back in the garage. You’d needed a new one anyway, after your old dog had to be retired around a year ago. You’d needed one, doctor’s orders, to help you with you nearly-destroyed sense of smell, and the fact that you’re now deaf in one ear. 

“That’s—that’s good, at least,” Lando mumbles, but he doesn’t look convinced. 

An awkward silence stretches between you and the driver for what feels like hours, but is likely only seconds. He’s unconvinced. You know it. Oscar knows it. But frankly, Lando seemed to understand that questioning you right now is the least of his concerns. 

“What about a tour of the factory?” Oscar buts in, killing the silence just when you feel like you have to say something. Always the peacekeeper. Always the savior. “It could— could give you time to get to know each other.”

“No time for that, unfortunately,” Zak interrupts softly, uncharacteristic of his normal behavior. He refrains from touching you at all. Which you can’t help but be thankful for— already so different from Williams, and the disconnected behavior of the board. 

Had he heard the conversation? Did he understand what you were trying to pass off to Lando, at least for the time being? A glance in his direction as you brush yourself off reveals nothing. 

“Time for… a quick meeting. Just to get to know everyone better.” 

“I want to be there,” Oscar looks at the CEO, just as Andrea rejoins the group, looking a bit exhausted, after dealing with what would likely be a bit of a PR issue. 

“You were going to anyway.” Andrea sighs, rubbing his temple. “Shall we?” And you're whisked into a spacious conference room, decorated with the portraits of champions and drivers all around you.

McLaren is…. Interesting. Leagues different from Williams, as you’ve come to realize. It seems that every step further into the orange-hued team leads you further to this conclusion. It’s mostly discussions of the next month’s schedule, as it heads into the new year of testing before the season starts. You look at the calendar, making notes varying from calling Lando to be sure he’s awake at least two hours before anything starts, to avoid any issue like today happening, to then buying a mini fridge for your office to keep your food. 

“And about this morning,” Lando says bashfully, smiling at you in a way that shows he’s used to getting away with things like that, “Won’t happen again. My phone was dead, and—”

“Correct, it won’t happen again.” You say bluntly, and look at him over your laptop, before closing it. Inadvertently, your claws come out, and you start to pick at the edge of the table. An old nervous tick you've never gotten rid of. “It was unacceptable, and shows a severe lack of discipline on your part.” 

The table goes silent. Oscar is clearly trying not to laugh. Andrea and Zak look surprised by your chilly tone. 

“I mean, I suppose,” Lando says, frowning a bit at how blunt you are. 

“There is no ‘I suppose’, there is the truth.” You lean forward over the table to look at him. “Do you want to be a world champion, Lando Norris?”

“Of course I do!”

“Then start acting like it. You’re not the youngest on the grid anymore.” Your claw scratches against the edge of the table again, leaving a faint mark. “I’ll talk to your trainer after this. You’re going to do extra conditioning for every tardy arrival to a meeting, practice, whatever, starting with this morning.”

“That seems a bit much,” Andrea starts, but Zak lets out a low whistle. Almost impressed. 

“You’re treating him like a football coach would.”

“I’m treating him as he should be. He is an athlete. He represents a team. Such actions can reflect poorly.”

“It was one time!” Lando protests.

“Was it?” You challenge, raising an eyebrow. Lando has to stop himself from growling, reminding himself he must be civil. “Was it just a one-time occurrence last season, Andrea?”

Lando bites his lower lip. You’re much stricter than Will had ever been. Andrea just holds up his hands, looking back at him with an apologetic gaze while you prompt him to answer. 

“I admit… things have been a bit relaxed as of late,” The team principal scratches the back of his head, and you make a little tutting noise, before turning to look at Lando again. 

“Then we’re fixing it.” 

A long pause settles. And you start again.

“I do have… issues, with the way you run things here,” you scratch your claw into the wood of the table, a low rumble in your throat. The scent blockers you have on are distracting to Lando. He wonders, briefly, what your scent is like when it’s not so medicinal. “You need more discipline. Less media. It makes you seem… soft.”

“Soft?” Lando leans forward, tilting his head. You look back at him with your constantly blank stare, a slight frown on your lips, and icy eyes that challenge even the famous death stare of your sire. “What do you mean?”

You hesitate, looking to Zak and Andrea, who both gesture for you to continue. You then look at Oscar, who bites his lip and makes eye contact with you, and shrugs softly, as if permitting you to say what you were going to say.

“....you will take offense to what I’m about to say, I’m warning you.”

“Please, I’ll be fine,” Lando waves it off, grinning lazily. His nose twitches. The medicinal smell of your scent blockers is getting to him. Do you truly need to cover your scent that much? Are you worried that he’ll act aggressively because you’re also an Alpha?

“.... no. You won’t. I’ve seen your interviews.” You say dryly, and fold your arms. Lando balks. 

“I beg you pardon?”

“You don’t take criticism well.”

“I take it just fine!” Lando shoots back, feeling himself starting to get frustrated. Why did you have to wear them? Even if you are an Alpha, the medication provided by the FIA should be more than enough to keep anyone’s tempers from flaring.

“Then you won’t throw a hissyfit when I list out all my problems with the way you work?” 

Your tone is icy. Even. Perfectly calculated. 

“Oh, you know I want to hear about your issues with me,” Lando slams his hands down onto the table, and you just raise an eyebrow at him. He’s down to his undershirt, his fireproofs hanging at his waist as you stare at him. “So say it! Don’t hold back!”

Andrea just massages his temples as Zak looks like he wants to be anywhere else. 

“Only if you don’t throw a tantrum when I’m right.” You state, examining your nails from where you sit, as though this is boring for you. Monotonous and icily calm. 

Lando hates your voice. Specifically how robotic and monotone it sounds. What little he knows about you— which is as much as the rest of the world, with how private the Lauda family is— is that you apparently have some vocal chord and brain damage. Nothing substantial enough to impede your thought process or speaking to make you mute, but enough to have caused the monotonous way you speak. A small enough problem that Lando doesn’t feel like a total dick for what he’s about to say.

“Oh, just fucking say it, you robotic bitch!”

That gets your attention. You pause, slowly bring your hand down, and look at him. With that classic, terrifying Lauda glare. Your eyes pierce his soul, and for a second, just a second, Lando considers apologizing. Tucking his tail between his legs, his ears folded back. But then, he remembers who he is, and he meets your glare with his own, lips drawn back to bare his teeth. 

“Fine then.”

You push yourself up easily, and stand, looking down at him. 

“Firstly, you are incredibly arrogant. You take risks without properly considering the chances of failure. Whenever you do inevitably end up in a lower place than your high-and-mighty ass thinks you deserve, you then take it out on everyone but yourself, when it’s solely your own decisions getting you there.”

You take a deep breath in, and he can hear the rattle of it in your throat as you start to walk around the table towards him as if you’re stalking your prey. Glaring all the while. Eyes glowing in the light. Andrea has his head in his hands behind you.

“Furthermore, you’ve yet to win a single race. Just one. You are not a world champion because you’re a fan favorite and show extreme promise. Everyone is here because they showed promise at one point or another. You’re a brat of a driver with an ego boosted by all of the people who want to get into your pants and the fact that these fuckers,” You snarl when you whip your hand out to point to Zak and Andrea, who at least have the decency to look a bit ashamed, “…don’t discipline you enough.”

And then you stop, and pull him up by the collar so fast that he gets whiplash, looking you right in your eyes, and can see the angry, mottled skin of severe scarring just hidden under the concealer on your face. Zak still seems to be reeling from the comment you made about how soft they are on Lando, and the way that you’re bristling for a fight.

“Thirdly. You’re a fucking jackass who’s mad someone got called over here to stop your ass from having another hissyfit while being interviewed. I hope the food from the races this year gives you explosive diarrhea from all the spices.”

With that, you let go of his collar and storm out of the room, screaming in German the entire way out, while slamming the door behind you.

Andrea only groans, looking at Lando from between his fingers, while Zak has his head against the table. Oscar has his hands tightly threaded in his hair. But then you come storming back in, with something in your hand. Lando just barely manages to swat it out of the way, and listens to it hit the ground, sounding like an empty can.

And you throw your hands in the air. “Oh, so you can react when a Red Bull is suddenly coming at you! Now do it with the fucking car, dipshit!”

Lando feels his eye twitch once. Twice. And then he’s throwing the crinkled can right back at you, the two of you screaming at each other in two separate languages while Andrea pushes himself between you two, with Zak trying his best to mediate the situation. Oscar looks like he would rather be anywhere else than between the two of you, eyes straight to the center of the table when you’re both finally separated. His scent is sour and awkward. Lando’s smells of burnt rubber. Your teeth are still bared, scent hidden. And that somehow makes Lando angrier.

“Never insult my voice again,” You hiss at Lando, eyes burning as the Brit sits in the chair while you stay standing. Oscar is holding tightly to his shoulder, the omega’s fingers digging into his skin. “I’ll gut you like a fucking fish if you do.” 

The faintest trace of an American accent makes Lando’s head spin, as he watches you leave, stalking out of the room. And Zak looks at Lando, jaw hanging loose. “Uh. I think… I think we need a five-minute break.” Zak mumbles, looking a bit disturbed, before leaving to go talk to you. Lando just stands there, feeling his anger fade as Oscar slowly approaches him. Andrea has gone after Zak.

"Mate," The omega's voice trembles, with shock or rage, he isn't entirely sure which one, "What the fuck?"

tags: @the-holy-trinity-l @laura-naruto-fan1998 @amalialeclerc @st0rmzi3

[holylulusworld]

Vulnerable (4)

Summary: Professor Xavier entrusts you with the mission to locate a certain mutant with unknown consequences.

Pairing: Alpha!Wolverine x Omega!(Mutant)Reader

Characters: Jean Grey, Scott Summers

Warnings: angst, language, gruff Wolverine, a/b/o, a/b/o dynamics, implied true mates, you are on the run, mentions of the death of a loved one (sister), a lil Jean/Scott hate in this, foreshadowing

A/N: Jean is not Dark Phoenix in this story. The reader is stronger than both Professor Xavier and Jean Grey. She is a telepath, telekinetic, and empath. Most of the time, she suppresses her powers.

Catch up here: Inseparable

Undefeated masterlist

“Never!” Logan growls while speeding off, “Get inside my head ever again! If you do, I’ll split your skull with my claws.”

You laugh, because Logan wouldn’t get the chance to get close to you, and reply, “Believe me, buddy. Getting inside your messed-up mind is the last thing I want to do. Now drive more carefully. There’s no one following us. At least, for now. I try to make us invisible.”

“You can turn things invisible too?” He cocks a brow but focuses on the street. “What the fuck are you?”

“Aw, you’re cute when clueless.” You pat his thigh and squeeze it tightly. “I cannot turn things invisible. I’ll cover our traces using my powers. If anyone tries to find us, I’ll manipulate their minds. Now stop distracting me and drive.”

“You should sleep or do whatever you do after you split into two,” he huffs and slams his hands onto the steering wheel. “That was suicidal, kid!”

“I’m not a kid,” you growl. “Do I look like a kid to you?” You narrow your eyes at Logan. "Maybe everyone under one hundred is a kid to you, but stop acting like you are the adult in this team!”

“We’re not a team, k—” he grits his teeth. “After I dropped you at Xavier’s freak house, I’m out of this shitshow for good. I told Charles that I’m not the kind of man for teamwork or his X-Men.”

“Yeah, I can relate,” you prop your feet onto the dashboard, earning a growl from Logan. “Relax, old man.” You smirk when he glances at you for a second. He squares his jaw, and his muscles are tense. “What? You can call me kid, but I cannot call you old man.”

“Someone should teach you some manners!” Logan grits out. “Maybe I’m that one.”

You lean close and place your hand on his arm. “Please don’t hurt yourself, old man. I don’t want to fix your back because you got hurt.”

“You know about my healing factor, right?” He bites back. “I don’t need your help to feel better.”

“Aw, but sweetie,” you move your hand up and down his arm, causing him to shiver. “I swear, if I ever helped you feel better, you’d believe you ended up in heaven.”

You pull away, smirking because it seems you got under the old grump’s skin.

“One day, someone will break your neck,” he replies, his voice a little raspier than before. “And I won’t stop them.”

Snorting, you turn to the right side to get some sleep. You wave your hand, and a green aura surrounds your body. “I’ll sleep now. Only wake me if the car is on fire or we reached our destiny.”

“What if you are on fire?” He grins, and you chuckle.

“Just let me burn, old man,” you yawn. “I’ve got this. I’m fire- and bulletproof.”

Logan furrows his brows, wondering if you try to mess with him again. He must admit, your powers are impressive and downright scary.

“Wake up!” Logan gruffly calls your name. He pokes your thigh. “You’re lucky that you’re not on fire; neither is the car.”

You slowly sit up, stretching your sore limbs before you open the door to leave the car. Hours spent in the same position gave you more kinks in your back than you’d like to admit.

“Good, you didn’t crash the car,” you grumble under your breath. “You don’t need a babysitter all the time. That’s progress.”

Logan glares at you for a second but doesn’t say a thing. Being here, back at the X-Men headquarters and Xavier’s school of gifted youngsters, brings back memories he’d like to forget about.

“Can you not talk for like five minutes?” he huffs and gets out of the car. Logan slams the door shut, muttering under his breath. “Why did you have to bring me here? I was done with this life.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” you huff. “And if you didn’t scream grumpy grandpa for crying out loud, I’d consider letting you go, but…” You smirk as he stalks toward you. “I can’t let a senior walk around the area on his own. You could get lost.”

“One day someone will teach you a lesson,” he snarls and slides his claws out. “I’ll be that one.” Logan grins as you take another step toward you. “This old man will teach you some manners too.”

You chuckle at his playful tone. It’s a distraction from his racing heart and the fear you can sense coming deep from within his soul. Being here is hard for him. You know that feeling.

“I see, you found him,” the gate creaks open behind you. Scott and Jean walk toward the car, and you already feel nauseous. Jean tries to see into your mind; a habit you never liked. She always wanted to control you since you first joined the X-Men. One of the reasons you left the team is to not feel like a guinea pig any longer.

“I always find them,” you reply, trying not to sound too annoyed. “If not, the professor wouldn’t have asked for my help. Here’s your lost sheep and the one you call Stryker.” You jerk your head toward the car. “He’s out cold. Tell me when you are ready to interrogate him. I’ll wake the sleeping beauty for you.”

“What did you do to him?” Jean is more concerned about you hurting a human than the fact that Stryker and his soldiers would’ve enslaved you and Logan.

“Oh, that wasn’t her,” Logan chuckles as Scott steps closer to him. “It was her cute alter ego. You know, the red aura crap running off to get a pound of flesh of the bastard in the back of my truck.”

“You hurt them,” Scott furrows his brows. He always was a softie and never knew when you have to end someone who’s evil through and through.”

"Well, it was a us or them kind of situation,” you shrug. “They were well-trained killers. What did you think will happen?” You glare at Scott. “I sent the first group home because they were newbies and didn’t kill innocent mutants for their fun. The others…” You dip your head to smirk at Scott, "They didn’t get so lucky. I sense evilness when I face it.”

“You used her again,” Jean chides while checking on Stryker’s vital functions. “I told you to never use her again!”

“She has a name!” Your aura turns from green to violet. “I told you not to treat her like an enemy, or even worse, a weapon you can use to your liking, but if I use my powers, then I’m the bad guy.”

“She?” Logan wonders aloud. He watches you take deep breaths, like in the bar, or before you unleashed your alter ego. This time your aura turns green, and it vanishes. “Did I miss something?”

“I told you, she’s my alter ego,” you turn around to face Logan. Your features soften feeling his confusion and the need to get away from Scott and Jean. “She’s…” You drop your gaze and sigh deeply.

“I came with you and even let you comb through my brain. You owe me an answer, Y/N!” Logan insists.

“Okay,” you nod, and place your hand on his chest. You look him in the eye, a kind of sadness in your eyes tearing through his very soul. “Professor Xavier brought me here when I was just a kid. After men like Stryker experimented on me and my…” You choke out a sob, “Twin sister.”

“Oh…” He can’t come up with an appropriate reaction, so he offers a cracked smile.

“We were both special; at least they told us so. Most of the time, we talked using telepathy or exchanged the food they gave us using our telekinesis. One day, they brought us into a room. ” You wipe your eyes. “There was another mutant, a very strong one. It was the most powerful being I ever encountered. They told us to fight him; and we did, but…”

“Shouldn’t we head inside?” Scott tries to stop you from telling your story to a man he never trusted. “Y/N?”

You ignore Scott and the fact that Jean tries once again to get a glimpse of your thoughts. You just look at Logan when a single tear rolls down your cheek. “He threw a shockwave in my direction. I was too stunned to react, and she…she just jumped in front of me, grabbing my hand and smiling as the shockwave tore her apart. Right in front of my eyes, my twin sister turned into dust.”

“I—I’m so sorry,” Logan finally gets out as your aura turns gray.

“It wasn’t her end,” you murmur. “Not completely. A part of her,” you smile now, and wave your hand to let the aura float around Logan. “I call it her soul; she stayed with me. Since that day, our powers have fused, and she’s there to protect me whenever I need her.”

“The aura is your sister?” He asks.

“A part of her is inside the aura I can create,” you murmur. “I can feel her, just like I felt her fuse with me that day.”

“That’s the most tragic story I ever heard, and I heard a lot of tragic stories,” Logan cracks a smile, making you chuckle. “Trust me, you win the award for the saddest story ever.”

You’re thankful for his reaction. He doesn’t try to tell you how sorry he is and that everything will turn out well. Logan is just…Logan. You are about to give him a witty comment when you sense an incredible power getting closer.

Your aura turns red immediately. You look at Jean, telling her to get Stryker and Scott inside. That power, you know it…

“He’s here. He’s coming for us. I didn’t feel him before, but I do now.” You use your telekinesis to send Logan flying. He lands behind the fence, the one you close and lock with your powers. “Get him inside. Protect him at all costs.”

You turn around, waving your hands, letting the aura dance in the air.

“Y/N…no!” Jean gasps when she watches your aura turn from red to black, your ultimate form. “Noooo! You’re going to kill us all!” She screams when you tell them to run inside the mansion. "You can't control this!"

“No, only he will die today.” Your voice doesn’t sound like your own any longer.

A part of your aura surrounds your body, but the rest turns into ten versions of yourself. You stand in line, nodding at each other.

The day has finally come. You’ll get your revenge on Stryker and the monster killing your sister.

Tags in reblog.

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — ASTRONAUT! GOJO x MISSION CONTROL! FEM READER

Your job description entails taking care of one (1) astronaut on his way to Mars. It doesn’t say anything about falling in love with him. 

wc — 1.6k

tags — the beauty of space (and Gojo Satoru), rom com, fluff

When you’re assigned to Gojo Satoru, the first thing you hear is ‘good luck’. It’s Nanami who says it. You suppose he would have strong feelings, being one of the few men who were going up there with him. 

They’re in the news constantly now. Of course they would be - brave pioneers of the new frontier. The first men to attempt a Mars landing.

Even for you, who sees them every day, it’s hard not to get caught up in the mythos of it. Glory burns bright and beautiful around them, a halo born of the knowledge that they’ll someday be in history books. Maybe you’ll be there too, a footnote riding on the coattails of their fame. 

They take care of humanity’s future, and you take care of them. Mission Control doesn’t have the esteem the astronauts do, but your jobs are just as important. You’re proud of the work you do. 

Though sometimes, your work is just silly. He is, anyway. 

“Helloooooo? Mission Control, come in.” 

“You’re not supposed to use the main line for personal matters, Satoru,” you remind him, a smile twitching at your lips. Director Utahime thinks you’re too soft on him, but you can’t help it. It must be terrible to be stuck up there for months, even if he says he loves it. 

You’ve seen his interviews. Gojo Satoru, golden boy of the astrophysics department at one of the most prestigious universities in the world. A prodigy, the youngest ever Nobel laureate for his work in quantum particles and space time. 

When he first declared that he would be going on the Mars mission, the world erupted in an uproar. He had transformed an esoteric field of dusty archives and chalk formulas into something real people cared about and tuned into his radio show to hear, even if it originally started because people loved his charming face. 

It was too risky. No one wanted to lose such a young talent to the vast and uncaring cruelty of space. 

Gojo heard these concerns, shut down his radio show, and appeared outside headquarters the next day without an appointment.  

Some say he’s pushy. Some say he’s determined. Whatever they think, one thing is true. Gojo Satoru gets results, which is why administration always lets things slide when it comes to him. Even when he clutters up the main communication line trying to talk to you. 

“If you wanted to get me alone, you could just say so,” he jokes, before he switches over to your private comm. 

“Mhm,” you hum. You’re distracted, doing your daily check on his vitals. 

“Looking at my heart again?” 

“Yep! All good, though I’m going to ask you to take a double dose of vitamin c tomorrow.” 

“Come on,” he moans. “They’re terrible. You’d think with all the scientists we have they’d manage to make it taste a little more like actual oranges.” 

“You know how hard it is to make things that last in space,” you tell him. 

The thing about Gojo’s genius is that it’s hard for him to understand others. He can do anything if he puts his mind to it, so hearing ‘no’ and ‘it’s impossible’ simply doesn’t compute to him. It’s why he started his radio show, or so he told you. He dreams of teaching people to see the world through his eyes. 

His beautiful eyes. 

Your cheeks heat. That’s not something you should be thinking about, but lately, it’s been getting harder and harder. You spent almost all your time with him, after all. 

As much as you try to be professional, you’re not immune to his stunning beauty. You know the voice on the other end of the line belongs to an man whose features are nothing short of otherworldly. He could be a model if he wasn’t an astronaut. He could be anything, actually, but you know why he chose this. 

The first time you heard Gojo speak on space, you fell in love a little bit. With him and with the cosmos. 

He’s the one who teaches you that the stars we see are already dead and gone. That light and time are intertwined in ways you didn’t understand before, that the little pinpricks of gold in the distance have fizzled out years ago and are reaching you now only as a eulogy. 

You tuned into his radio show on a whim, wanting to get to know the man you’ll be working with better. You stayed because his love for the universe is magnetic. 

Gojo’s favorite thing about space is infinity. He was a proud supporter of the alien theory. There had to be some life out there, in that great vastness. Anything is possible in space, he says. There might even be a planet where he can float or unleash devastating destruction with just a flick of his fingers. 

Before long, you were listening to his voice explain worm holes and cosmic inflation any spare moment you got. He was with you on the commute to work and in the shower while you scrubbed your hair. It was Gojo’s voice that lulled you to sleep every night, slow and relaxing in his special bedtime series. 

So you’d known him long before you met him. In your first real interaction, where he was so quintessentially Gojo in a way that completely put Utahime off, you laughed. His eyes widened, surprised by your reaction, then his lips split in a toothy smile. 

“At least one of you has a sense of humor,” he quipped, making a lifelong enemy of Utahime and a lifelong friend of you. 

You’re the only one who can put up with him, so when Gojo had been chosen for Project Ares, you landed an adjacent job as his handler in Mission Control. You’d known you’d work on Project Ares for a while now, but not that you’d be working so closely with him, or that it would feel so right. 

Of course you would be his handler. It was as natural as Gojo becoming an astronaut, which you’d always known he’d manage. It’s Gojo, after all. He would go change the future of humanity, and you’d keep him tethered to Earth. 

It had been a relatively easy few years, for a space mission anyway. Anything short of death was considered optimal in those conditions. You hadn’t realized you’d miss him like this, however. All this time, and so much of it was only his voice. In a way, it was reminiscent of the days before you’d met, hearing a beautiful mind work through the radio. 

“Oh, Houston?” Gojo calls through the line, singsong. “We have a problem.” 

His lighthearted tone doesn’t deceive you. You’re up in a second. 

“Satoru? Satoru? Come on, talk to me. What is it? You okay up there?” 

“I’m experiencing heart pains,” he says, letting out a low grunt of pain. “Palpitations.” 

Your blood runs cold. 

Space is Gojo’s passion. You’re happy he gets to pursue it. But in these moments, you wish he’d never heard of astrophysics because in space, you can’t reach him. If he gets hurt, all you can do is talk to him. 

He’s said he appreciates it. 

“It’s nice, you know? Gives me something to listen to other than the voices already in my head.” 

“Should I schedule a virtual visit to the psychiatrist, Satoru?” 

You joke around, but you know that’s all you can be for him. A voice in his helmet. 

Your hands are creeping towards the switch that’ll open your communication line to Nanami. At least if something happens, Nanami can actually get to him. 

“Fuck,” Gojo whispers. You freeze. You’ve never heard him talk like this, his voice low and raspy with pain. “It hurts.” 

“Tell me where it hurts, honey,” you murmur back, your voice instinctively lowering into something syrupy and sweet. Comfort comes naturally to you. You’ve always been a doting personality. It’s part of why they chose you for this assignment, other than, as you learn later, Gojo’s insistence that you be his line to Earth. “It’s going to be okay.” 

“It aches, sort of?” Gojo says. “Happens when I hear- ugh.”

“Hear? Hear what? If you can’t tell me, I can’t help you, sweetheart.” You have no idea where these pet names are coming from, but they just burst out of your mouth, as if tenderness for him is uncontrollable. Is it because you’re scared it’ll end like this? The chance of whatever you feel for him dying unspoken terrifies you. You wish you’d told him sooner. 

“Happens when I hear your voice,” he says. Is that nervousness you detect in his voice? 

Suddenly you have a very clear idea of what he’s playing at. 

“Satoru,” you say very calmly. “If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’m going to call Nanami and you can explain it to him.” 

A flurry of panicked noises on the other end. “No, wait, no, don’t do that! I can explain. Just. Give me a second.” 

Ragged breathing. 

“Okay,” he admits. “I didn’t think this through.”

“Satoru.” 

“I’m sorry! You know how I am!” 

You do. Which is why you’re not immediately calling Utahime over to reprimand him. 

“I was going to wait,” he says. “This isn’t very romantic.” 

“I would say that’s more because I thought you were going to die from a heart attack in space than anything else, but go on.” 

“Sorry,” he says. “I love you.”

You were half-expecting it. After all, he’s right - you do know him. Somehow his straightforwardness still catches you off guard so badly your knee jerks and slams right into your desk. It’ll leave a nasty bruise when you check in the shower later. Most things are too soft to be picked up by your mic, but that was definitely loud enough. 

“…You okay?” Gojo asks, hesitantly. 

“When you come back to Earth,” you explain to him in clipped tones, “I am going to gut you. Then we are going to go on a date.” 

[mr-walkingrainbow]

Hey Anxienn fans!!!! I gotta lil treat for you!!!!

SO! Remember how I mentioned I was writing some Anxiety x Ennui fics?

well one of them is done!!!!

I have the wonderful honor to be doing a collab with the one and only @hootbon ! Their going to be lending some wonderful art skills while I provide the fanfic!!!

Currently the fanfic is finished!!!! However me and Hooty are still ironing out some of the details! So it will be a little bit before it’s published, BUT! I didn’t want to leave you guys hanging with nothing, so here I offer you a humble little sneak peak of, ABC’s it’s easy as a Une, Deux, Trois?

(also ps. I’m still working on the Jealous! Ennui fic, but that one’s not a collab so as soon as I’m done with it I can post!!!!)

Sneak peek below!

Ennui shrugged, looking away. She knew what Anxiety was talking about. 

For the past few months, Anxiety had been pestering her to let her teach her how to read and write in English. 

It wasn’t necessarily surprising that she didn’t know how. She was French after all. But the other emotions just sorta assumed she knew, since she spoke the language. 

Embarrassment and Envy knew of her little secret. They had all grown close together in the waiting rooms for years on end. And they never needed to learn how to read and write English down there. Ennui had her phone, which translated everything she could want. And nothing ever depended on her comprehension. 

However, they finally made it to headquarters. Riley’s mind making room for new emotions and feelings. 

With all of the commotion and adjustment, Ennui’s lack of knowledge was forgotten. 

Until one fateful day where she was manning the console alone. A history class with a teach with voice more monotone then her own. 

She had been frozen. Unsure on what to do. Her translator app on her phone wasn’t working. And Riley had been tasked with doing a history packet. A packet full of words Ennui would not understand nor interpret. 

She had no idea on whether an emotion was needed or not. And she must have stood there for twenty minutes, useless to help. Which normally she’d be happy with. Able to goof off and lounge around. 

But Riley was directly relying on her. She may relish being lazy, but never at the expense of their girl. 

She was stuck, pride stopping her from asking for help. Which again, is ironic considering normally she’d do anything to get out of doing more work. 

But this? This was different. This was a lack of knowledge everyone else knew. It made her feel…. Lesser. 

Thankfully Anxiety had walked across. Casually joining her. Ennui’s face had burned, too ashamed to explain why she was just standing there. 

Anxiety looked on, back and forth between the screen and her girlfriend. Realization finally hitting her in a silent ‘O’. 

She didn’t say anything else. Just casually read what was on screen. Translating without calling her out. 

Ennui had never been more grateful. And definitely made it up to her later, in a more private way, if you catch her drift. 

And there you go!!! I hope you liked the sneak peek and stay tuned for further updates!!! ❤️❤️❤️

[rinneroraito]

sobering up

almost 3K words, rejection, continuation of this

I actually don’t remember when I woke up, I just realized my eyes were open and I was staring at the off-white ceiling of the headquarters’ office. Dawn was breaking, evident by the soft rays of light coming in through the room by the gaps in the curtains. A sharp pang starts up in my head like I was wearing a crown of thorns around my skull and I wince in pain, hissing as I draw in a slow breath. The blanket that was draped over me falls off of my shoulders while I slowly get up from the couch. Every movement made my eyes go out of focus, the shooting pain setting off flashes of light behind my dry eyes. I never knew even blinking would become laborious in my state.

Fuck, I forgot to hydrate myself last night when I drank…

Turning my neck carefully to the side, I could see a tray with a bottle of sports drink and what seems to be a painkiller on the coffee table. I gingerly reached out to take the drink and the medicine, hoping it would be enough to relieve me of my hangover. The silver casing of the ibuprofen makes a popping sound as I break it and shove the pill between my lips. I finish the entire bottle of sports drink and I lean back into the couch, nursing my headache. The humming of L’s computers and the clacking from his keyboard are the only things I could hear along with my breathing. Concentrating on these sounds I fall asleep again.

—

The sunlight coming through the windows of the office sting my cheeks and I wake up once more, slowly straightening myself up from my position. As I look around with my bleary eyes, I see L at the other side of the room, still working. I grabbed the blanket off of the floor and hung it loosely over the arm of the couch. The pounding in  my head from my initial awakening has slightly abated.

Well, I didn't forget what I did last night though, that's for sure. There goes my dignity. Great going, Rinne, you’ve shamelessly confessed to L that you had a crush on him. Why did you even do it? You didn’t even need to drink that much last night, you stupid, stupid girl. Why couldn’t you stay in your room and sleep? What does he think of me now? Does he think that maybe I’m just a fangirl fawning over him? Good lord, am I going to be taken off of this investigation? Fuck… 

I don’t even notice myself hunching over with my hands covering my face, palms pressed to my cheeks so hard as if trying to force the embarrassment I felt back into the recesses of my mind where I couldn’t find them.

Goddamnit, Rinne, why are you such an idiot with your feelings… Stupid, stupid alcohol. Stupid, stupid, drunk Rinne… He’s not some ordinary guy, he’s the fucking Greatest Detective in the World, you can’t just willy-nilly go up to him like that and-

“Good morning, Miss Uehara.”

My head snaps up so fast that my mouth hangs open as I look at L. Hearing his voice almost sobered me up, but seeing his stoic face made my ears burn as blood started to rush to my head in mortification. I look away and frantically wipe the corners of my eyes with my fingers, hoping my face looked decent enough to him.

“Good morning, Detective…”

“Are you sober? Is there anything else you need to aid with your hangover or was the Ibuprofen and sports drink enough?”

“I um…” I hesitated before answering, clawing at my hair to smooth it over my shoulder, my eyes distant. “No, I’m good. Thank you.”

“You always seem to hesitate with communicating your needs, Miss Uehara. Does having your necessities catered to make you feel too much like a burden?”

Sometimes I wished he wasn’t as observant and as perceptive as he was, hearing him say it out loud made me want to retort at him but my hangover was keeping my attitude in order.

“Fine, I guess I could have some warm broth, a soda and another sports drink…”

“Soda? For a hangover?”

“It helps with the nausea.”

“Alright, I’ll have Watari bring them up. Please remember not to be reluctant with making your needs known, it’ll make things less complicated for you.” He takes out a phone from his jeans pocket and starts to give instructions to Watari while my mind is still stuck with his last sentence.

That’s easier said than done… 

He’s blunt with his words and is indifferent towards how people will take them, and I’m no exception from that kind of treatment. I’m just another one of the Task Force members working with (or more like under) him after all, another tool in his arsenal.

“Thanks, I’ll try to remember that.”

He shoves the phone back into his pocket before leaning towards my direction to speak again.

“How much time do you need to sober up for?”

“I am sober, the ibuprofen is doing its job with the headache.”

“Sober enough to hold a proper conversation with me?”

There it is. The confrontation I’ve been dreading. 

My body immediately felt cold as the air in the office seemed to freeze around me. I hadn’t even noticed that I wasn’t looking at his face since I greeted him, realizing my eyes had been glued to the now-empty bottle of sports drink on my hands. My thumb goes over the ridges on the plastic as I begin to feel the thorns around my skull loosen up, not from the painkiller but from this whole interaction we were having.

“You waste no time, do you? Of course you don’t,” I remarked sullenly, still staring at the ridges on the plastic bottle I held.

“I would like to clear the air between us as soon as possible.”

“Yea, I figured.”

“Miss Uehara, please look at me.”

The hesitation is evident from the stretch of silence that extends between the two of us as I continue to scratch at the ridges of the plastic bottle with a nail, refusing to look up at him. I didn’t want him to dig out the shame from my expressions no matter how blank I tried to keep my face, nor did I want him to look at me. Not with those eyes of his.

What he does next surprises me as he crouches down on the floor, tilting his head to the side so he could meet my gaze.

There they are, those sharp unblinking eyes, boring holes through my defensive aversion.

“I can answer you without needing to look at you, Detective…”

“I know, but I’d like to gauge your expressions just to make sure you’re not lying to me.”

I meet his eyes briefly, gritting my teeth.

“Lying by omission is still lying, Miss Uehara.”

You son of a bitch.

With the enthusiasm of a cat being given a bath, I stared back at him, trying my best to match his neutral expression.

“Do you remember what you told me last night?”

“I do.”

“All of it?”

“Yes.”

He looked down for a moment, and when he looked back up at me he had a thumb pressed to his lips.

“Miss Uehara, are you actually infatuated with me, or was it just a case of drunken rambling?”

The crunch of the empty plastic bottle tears through the morning silence as my grip on it tightens. Fuck. I straighten myself up on the couch, wringing the poor bottle with both hands now in an attempt to keep myself emotionally intact. I wanted to answer, but no words came out. I wasn’t even looking at him again; my eyes stayed on the now-mangled piece of plastic that used to be a bottle of sports drink. I feel like throwing up.

“Miss Uehara-”

He sounded too close and I whipped my head to the side to see that he had perched himself next to me. His proximity caused me to flinch back, keeping a significant amount of space between us.

“Answer my question, please.”

L is persistent, unbearably stubborn, and for the few weeks that I’ve worked with him I know now that I can’t just drop this conversation. He won’t let it go until he gets the truth out of me.

“Fine,” I started, peering back into his piercing stare apprehensively. 

“I am infatuated with you, Detective. What are you going to do about it?”

There was a scathing quality to the way I said the last sentence. Why was I so angry about this whole situation anyway? Is it actually anger or just annoyance over the fact that my confession came out severely underprepared out of a drunken impulse, and I have to face the consequences of it now?

He observes me unblinkingly as he brings his thumb between his teeth and gnaws at it for a moment before speaking again. “I see. Miss Uehara, allow me to be completely honest with you.”

The couch gives just a little when he leans closer to me. I felt my breath hold, my hands growing clammy around the mangled plastic bottle.

“Do not be mistaken, I am flattered that you find me as someone you could be fond of, even though I am now questioning your taste in men. That aside, I am in no place to return your affection, as I do not feel the same.”

The breath I had been holding comes out as a gasp. Was it out of relief? Shock? I wasn’t sure, but I started to laugh.

What was I expecting? That he’d entertain me just because I liked him? We’re in the middle of a fucking investigation that literally spells life or death for everyone involved and here I was, hoping that he felt the same? Oh, oh… I’m laughing because this whole thing was funny, and I was being stupid. He probably thinks I’ve gone mad.

The poor Detective looked bewildered by my reaction as I tried to pull myself together, raising a finger at him to give me a minute.

“Sorry, sorry. You’re right. Um, it’s stupid, isn’t it? But yeah, don’t worry about it, you don’t need to return my feelings nor acknowledge them, we’ve got more pressing matters on our hands.”

“I am sensing a hint of passive aggression in your tone.”

“Just-” I squeezed my cheeks with my palms before I continued speaking. “Listen to me, Detective. I think part of the reason I came here last night and did what I did was because I wanted to get that off of my chest no matter how you’d take it. I did it drunk because I knew deep down I’d never feel brave enough to admit any of that to you while sober. Confronting me about it now is jarring, to say the least, because it’s something I decided to do on impulse without any thought. It’s also hard for me to explain to you that the truth is, I just started pouring my heart out to you because I was drunk and it felt…right.”

Our conversation gets briefly interrupted by Watari who arrives with a tray of the items L requested from earlier. He silently sets them down on the coffee table before us, takes the blanket from the arm of the couch where I hung it, nods and then leaves. I took this small break as an opportunity to grab the new bottle of sports drink and take a few swigs from it. L looks away for a moment, chewing on the nail of his thumb. Everything probably gets rolled around in his mind a hundred times before he decides on the most logical explanation to an incident, and I wonder… Is that why he keeps eating sweets at work, to keep his brain running? What does he think of when he’s not busy trying to solve a case? Is he doing the same thing with my “confession”? He just outright told me that he does not feel the same. Am I actually taking his rejection well? What else am I expecting? 

What am I expecting?

“I feel like I’m not making sense and I’m just rambling again. Sorry.”

“Don’t be, I understand. At least, I understand what you’re trying to convey.”

“Okay… Sure?”

“It’s not stupid, Miss Uehara, and I value your straightforwardness. You’ve also told me last night that you might start to feel awkward around me due to your confession, so I assume they really are your honest feelings. You were the very first person to approach me and express your sentiments about me outside of my investigative work. To be honest, I would still like to ask you out, that hasn’t changed from the first time I met you but the circumstances we’re currently in will not allow us such a dalliance…”

L pauses, thumbing his bottom lip. My eyes stay locked on his as rays of sunlight pass through the gaps in the curtains. The light scattered on one side of his face, and I could feel the heat on my cheek, too. It takes me a while to realize what he just said and I now question if the warmth I was feeling on my cheeks were from the sunlight or the blood rushing to my face. My legs start to bounce.

Oh …

“When I said I did not feel the same way about you, I meant that whatever you might be feeling towards me is something I cannot reciprocate at the moment. I find you attractive, and I am impressed by your abilities as an investigator, but I do not feel the way you do about me, and I believe a certain amount of reciprocity is required for two people to connect. You deserve that much, and I am not the person for that.”

He held my gaze steadily while he spoke and he looked away as soon as he finished, thumbing his bottom lip. My face was burning at this point and I brought a hand up to squeeze my cheeks together, placing the bottle of sports drink back on the table. Unspoken words hang in the air of the morning for a few moments, the silence so thick it was almost palpable. I glance at the World’s Greatest Detective whose elbows rested on his knees, still deep in thought.

“Thank you for your honesty, Detective,” I finally replied.

“You’re welcome.” “Now I wish I could have taken you up on your offer that first time we met. Maybe things would be different now.”

“There’s no use crying over spilled milk, Miss Uehara.”

“I know, Detective, I know. I’ll just enjoy whatever time I get to spend with you, I guess.”

He looks back at me, his piercing eyes a mysterious dark lake I’m trying to wade into.

“Just because you rejected me doesn’t mean I’ll stop liking you immediately, you know? It takes a while for feelings to disappear,” I continue.

“You’ll be hurt.”

“I’m hurt now.”

For some reason, the statement appears to have caught him off guard, and he takes his time responding.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and I wonder if it was genuine or something just out of his  accustomed courtesy.

“It’s part of the entire thing, not exactly new to me.”

“Why would you willingly put yourself in a situation where you’ll be hurt? Is the payoff truly worthwhile for something as risky as a romantic relationship?”

My eyes trail off to the bowl of warm broth I had requested earlier and I take it with both hands, sipping directly from it completely disregarding the spoon that came with it.

“Because it’s exciting, fulfilling to me in a way and in my experience, yes. It is worth it.”

I could feel him staring at me as I pondered over the bowl before taking a few more sips from it. Then I realized something from the question he just asked.

He’s never been in a relationship before, has he?

The bowl feels warm on my palms as I return my gaze to L.

“You’ve never been romantically involved with someone, Detective?”

“No, I never had the time to nurture one. It would be pointless as I’d only be neglecting them due to my work.”

“Hm, that makes sense. There’s also the danger attached to being connected to you, and becoming a liability.”

There’s a solemn quality to his expression as he nods.

Was this a man who has completely accepted his lonely fate of solving crime because it’s what he liked to do and was good at? Was Watari the only constant human connection he’s had his whole life? Did he really just spend most of his time solving crime after crime, mystery after mystery? Was he never really going to take a chance at… 

Rinne, stop it. 

Why are you still hoping? Stop it.

We’re silent for a while. My legs stop bouncing momentarily as I settle the now empty bowl of broth back on the coffee table. I then grab the can of soda and crack it open, the pop and fizz ringing out in the warmth and awkwardness of the atmosphere.

“Are you feeling better?” He asks in his familiar monotone.

“Yeah, sobering up,” I reply, bringing the can up to my mouth.

The soda wasn’t cold enough.

[anystalker707]

Admiral, my Admiral (1/2)

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x [gender neutral] Admiral! Reader Words: ~ 2 500 Summary: An unusual relationship that starts with a deal. Tags: no talk to him (ace) he angy / he gets to be babied tho / um, there's angst if you don't mind

MASTERLIST

PART TWO

• Ace could remember passing out during a fight. His division wasn’t able to defeat the marine because they happened to run into a fucking strong division

• He tried his best to fight, but he just ended up getting weak when the spear of Sea-prism stone touched his chest and there was nothing else he could do, not even burn the ship so he would die uncaught, in the bottom of the sea; the last thing he could see was the fucking admiral walking towards him before he passed out. Where did the admiral come from, anyways?

• He woke up in a room he didn’t recognize, but could feel the familiar movement of the sea under him, so he was a little relieved he hadn’t been taken anywhere on land. Or maybe it was actually worse, if he thought well

• The whole place was too... patterned. Minimalist. It seems like a guest room and, when he leaves the room, the place keeps the same dark gray, white and blue colors. He keeps going until seeing a sign with the Marine symbol on it makes him shout and try to start lighting everything on fire until he notices the anklet on his leg and it is made out of that goddamned stone

• It is stupid, but he still jumps on you in an attempt to kill you with his bare fists at the moment he finds you at the desk only to be sent flying into the sea with a kick and rescued by your subordinates

• Ace is so full of anger, so small compared to you as he stands on the deck and stares at you—if only looks could kill...—while you don’t even bother to order him to be chained or anything. He feels like he will combust when you look at him and have the audacity to grin

• Your subordinates seem to know something that Ace doesn’t, but none of them pipe a word about it, all of them always talking the minimum possible with him and ignoring his comments whenever they get him food. He almost feels like when he was taken in by Whitebeard all over again, but this time, the feeling isn’t exactly welcoming because the only one being nice to him there is the fucking admiral, even if you can get on his nerves with your sarcasm and superiority complex. That is living hell

• At first, he thinks you will execute him—doesn’t happen. Then, you’re probably taking him to some headquarters to make him prisoner or something—also wrong. He tries to bribe one of your subordinates into telling him, but it never happens; not like he has anything that may interest them

• All he needs to stop fussing around so much is a letter from Garp telling him to trust you; not really the most convincing thing, but surely does leave a thought in the back of Ace’s head

• If you don’t kill him and have a goal, then the logic is simple; you need Ace alive, so you won’t kill him even if he’s the most insufferable fucker in the whole world

• Spending a few weeks on your ship does make Ace soften, though. He ends up finding himself in late night talks with you on the deck because, as much as he doesn’t want to chat, your sweet talk does keep him going. Not to mention the way he finds comfort in you, somehow

• Ace softening up doesn’t mean peace. His way of showing he is more comfortable around you resolves itself around Ace suddenly falling asleep in the most inconvenient spaces and following you around while making the most annoying comments. It doesn’t matter that you’re an Admiral and the power you have—he will get on your nerves because that’s just how he is, even more knowing he won’t get killed no matter how much he annoys one of the strongest, best known marines and warriors out there

• “What’re you doing?” “...Paperwork.” “Well, that I can see. What’s it about, though? Can I see the files about me? You better have everything right. I’m sure my bounty would be higher if you knew everything I’ve done!” “Why don’t you go take a nap or something? Leave me alone, fire boy.” “You’re so annoying! I can’t even—” You look up from your papers and he is... sleeping again. Okay.

• “You must be receiving a great amount to be taking care of me.” “Oh, I wish I were...”

• The relationship between you two turns into something like; Ace: Yo, I’ve broken about 20 important things, almost sank your ship again and made one of your subordinates almost give up on being a Marine You: I know this and I love you

• Ace is a little suspicious if you really have any real destiny—you’re sailing without stopping at any island for longer than a couple of days and never going to any of the headquarters. Are you going against the rules and acting in secret? Really??? For real??? Damn it, someone for once should tell Ace a word about what’s going on. Not only would half of his doubts go away, but also something interesting would happen in that godforsaken ship before he went crazy

• Although, watching the admiral is quite interesting. Well, the admiral is quite interesting...

• He grows quiet for a while, spending some days processing how you are always checking on him every morning and every night before he goes to sleep, sometimes bringing you food in person and spending some of your time with him

• Why do you want to know if he is emotionally okay and has everything he needs? It's almost like you care

• Then there are those long, uncomfortable silences in which he doesn't know what to do because, maybe unintentionally, those little comments of yours and light smirks have his face turning bright red and something stirring inside his chest

• How did he even allow the admiral to get into his head like that? He can't let it continue this way, though

          “(Y/n)!” Ace whined as he walked into your office and didn’t even care about what you were doing before he threw himself on your lap, holding onto your shoulders as he dramatically leaned back.

“Ace—”

“I am afraid I am about to die! Your ship is so, so boring and your subordinates never talk to me!” He closed his eyes, making a face as if he were under a lot of pain—or at least trying to—, with no regard for the documents he almost made you ruin. “Like, why can’t they give me the combination to the vault? Or let me mess with the sails? That’s no fun!”

You would’ve chuckled if Ace weren’t being so obnoxious, so you just leaned back on the chair and observed him; he pouted at the silence and sat up properly on your lap. He takes in a breath, but you never allow him to voice whatever it is.

“Look, I am throwing you in the sea if you continue like this!”

“As if!” Ace chuckles. “You can’t k...”

Oh, it can’t be. Still, the soft snoring that comes from Ace confirms your theory and you roll your eyes, bouncing your leg lightly.

“Oi! What do you think you are doing, Ace?” You finally let go of your pen and your papers, shaking Ace a little. “Get lost, fire boy! I already forbid you from interrupting me while I’m on my paperwork! Why don’t you go read the books I lent you, hm? Go sleep in your room, at least. In the kitchen. I don't care.”

“It’s no fun without you.” Ace groaned, and you couldn’t help but to smirk and raise an eyebrow; a red tone took over his cheeks. “I—I mean, you’re the one who—”

“The one who?” You nodded for him to continue, resting your cheek against your palm. “Go on.” Ace exhaled, pressing his lips together as he looked away, and the lack of answer made you chuckle while wrapping an arm around his torso. “Oh, you don’t know what to do now that you have my full attention? Just wasting my time? I gave you rules to stay on my ship, Ace.” Your fingers held onto his jaw so he would look at you. “And I—”

Lips pressed to yours interrupted your words. Ace’s lips. You couldn’t help but to kiss back because he kept pressing his lips to yours for a few seconds, dismissing your hesitance, and even daring to hum softly once you started to kiss him back.

None of you stop. It started a chain of kisses that was enough to make you forget about your paperwork, lost in kissing the lips of a filthy pirate that fell in your hands because of a deal. Both of you had this same feeling; the spark of knowing that this was wrong and forbidden was what ignited your feelings for each other. Ace’s lips tasted like the sea, like the sweets he was eating earlier, but also tasted like freedom. A little bit of power that you had over the Marine and the World Government because no matter what you did, you knew no one would agree to have you dismissed from the Marine and they couldn't control every single action of yours.

Your fingers hooked with the hair on the back of Ace’s head to pull him away from the kiss a little. “You are down bad,” you mumbled into his ear.

• Once, Ace hears you talking to Sengoku. He sees you in your office, back to the door and with a den den mushi in hand. Your voice is calm, but not the sort of calm like you are when you raise an eyebrow at Ace then shrug in dismissal before you tell him to do whatever he pleases, no; it is the type of calm when your subordinates do something you don’t like, so you suppress your annoyance to long glares and pursed lips

• “No...” You say to the snail, “I am busy. I won’t be there for the next meeting. You already know my position in this. It is the same as Garp’s. And you know I haven’t seen Fire First. I would’ve reported already. Has he disappeared or something? You haven’t heard a thing about him for weeks.”

• And he doesn’t listen anymore. He doesn’t want to. Either way, it is enough to change the context again, from “stop locking me here” to “thanks for keeping me safe”

• You don’t understand what’s up with Ace being softer around you, but it is well welcomed. There’s something sweet about how he places a chair next to your desk and folds his arms over the table with his head on them, quietly observing you work until he falls asleep

• Actually, one night, Ace knocks on your bedroom’s door. He just walks past you and collapses on the bed at the moment you open the door. And fuck. That boy’s audacity. Whatever. It’s nice to hold onto something while you sleep

• And the fact your subordinates will walk into you making out with Ace on your lap while you’re in your office and just ignore what is happening is just... Hell, you love it

• There’s a whole new routine with Ace by your side

• The moment Ace has to leave comes quicker than you expected. It’s already time for you to return to your usual admiral duties and also for Ace to go back to the sea because there’s no longer a threat

• He can’t believe that keeping him was a whole plan to keep him safe while you, Garp and a few others did your best to convince the Marine that Portgas D. Ace was not a threat, so he shouldn’t be executed

• Ace is at loss of words, unable to formulate a thanks that’s genuine enough and expresses all of his feelings because you only fucking let him know about it when you’re dropping him at an island where Whitebeard already awaits for him. He wants to cry, to hug you, to kiss you, to ramble about how thankful he is, all at the same time—but he can’t

• You chuckle at how lost he seems, grinning happily and telling him he can go because he is safe now

• Ace doesn’t leave without giving you a kiss, a deep one

• What seemed to be a short-term thing, ends up leaving your hearts aching for more once you’re away from each other, in the sea. It is risky, it is dangerous, difficult to manage, even, but you’re picking Ace up in a random island to spend the night with you whenever you are able to, with excuses to the marine that you ended up letting him escape because your priorities were others. Sometimes he will just show up randomly with that devilish smirk on his face

• As much as you’re an admiral, your little relationship does reach the Marine’s eyes and ears, and it doesn’t seem to help them in the slightest bit because you’re not only with one of their highest potential enemies; your behavior also encourages other pirates a little too much, as if it gives them some sort of excuse or extra freedom. You’d always been a little rebel considering the Marine and World Government’s rules, so maybe you’ll go a little too far soon—if you haven't already

• Getting rid of Ace wouldn’t mean just getting rid of a big threat—it also would have you under the Marine’s control once for all

• First of all, the Marine can’t get rid of an admiral so powerful like you, so it isn’t a choice to dismiss or execute you, so that leads to Ace. Given the way you are lovesick, getting rid of Ace will teach you a lesson—and a lesson to every other marine and pirate as well—, and your head will be focused on doing your job. You won’t rebel against the only people who know your weaknesses and help you be stronger

• The new census doesn’t need you and Garp to vote; it doesn’t matter what a small biased minority things about such a threat

• You already suspect what's going on when they send you across the ocean, and it gets worse when they start to guide you to a weird island you’ve never seen before

• Held. You’re being held across the ocean because they know you can save Ace if you have the opportunity, because you’re too precious to be wasted for such an insignificant matter. You’ll just be force– I mean, invited to a confidential meeting later to establish that your relationship with Ace will be forgiven and forgotten since they know it won’t happen again and you’re such a great admiral that they can’t risk losing you. You will have to sign a few documents and be under constant watch for a few months after it

• For now, you will just sit in this cold cell knowing your love is being executed

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

PART TWO

[thegalaxysedge22]

After Ever (Chapter 2)

masterlist

< Prev | Next >

pair: sylus x MC (named)

tags/tw: cannon adjacent, made up medical shit, lowkey hippa violation, cursing, death & grief

word count: 7.3k

song rec: taste by sabrina carpenter (has nothing to do with this chapter but it is just so good)

taylor song rec: I Know Places (it's the arctic)

a/n: this one is gonna be a bit choppy cause we have so much to get through BUT we get to meet Pie, so ur welcome. also, please leave feedback or comment 🥺

important: if you want to follow this fic and updates but don't want to follow me bc im annoying (understandable) check out the tag #after ever fanfiction

Kore arrived at the Hunter’s Association’s headquarters exhausted. She got on the crowded elevator drinking the last of her coffee while she waited for the elevator to arrive on her floor. With a ding, the doors opened. She pushed her way through the few people left and stepped out onto her floor, business as usual. 

Upon arriving at her cubicle the first thing she did, primarily out of habit, was plug in her laptop. She brought her travel mug to her lips, hoping it would revitalize her energy only to find that the thermos was empty. Grumbling, she made her way to the breakroom.

Being the first person on her floor to arrive, or at least first in the breakroom, she was forced or cursed to brew a fresh pot of coffee. While waiting for the coffee to brew, Kore leaned back against the countertop with her head back and eyes closed, rubbing her temples.

“Wow, you’re here early,” a voice said. Immediately Kore’s eyes snapped open to find Tara on her way to sit at a table.

“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep so I thought I might as well come in and get some work done,” Kore said, her voice gravely from lack of use. She cleared her throat and went over to sit down by Tara. “What are you doing here this early anyways,” she questioned her friend.

“Oh, I always get here this early. I find it nice to be able to get settled before everyone comes in. Plus I think it gives a good impression to the Captain being here early,” Tara responded, eyes sparkling while talking about Jenna, their boss. 

“But are you alright,” Tara asked, reaching out across the table, “I mean this with all of the love in the world, but you look like shit.”

“Well thank you for that,” Kore chuckled. She hadn’t bothered to look in a mirror after her all-nighter. Although she was no stranger to lack of sleep, Kore’s sleep schedule had been becoming more regular and socially acceptable, that is until the accident.

“I mean it’s a good thing we have this long weekend, am I right,” Tara said reassuringly before a spark of anxiety met her eyes, “You do have the weekend off right, you’re not one of the poor hunter’s that got stuck working over the holiday are you?”

“No, don't worry, I’ll be able to get some rest this weekend,” Kore reassured her friend. The coffee maker beeped, signaling that it had completed brewing. “Oh thank God,” Kore said in relief, getting up and pouring half of the pot directly into her large travel mug. She chugged most of it, burning her tongue in the process, but she didn’t care, she was too desperate to get more caffeine coursing through her veins. She was in the middle of refilling her thermos when Tara spoke again.

“Jeez, I’d say to chill it with the coffee but you look like you might need it,” she said jokingly. Kore offered her a playful glare in return. They heard the elevator to their floor at the end of the hallway ding through the open door. “I’m just saying. Anyways, I gotta get going, I think Capitan Jenna is here,” Tara said with a little wink before exiting.

Kore rolled her eyes before putting the pot back so it stayed warm. She exited the break room making a B-line for her cubicle. Upon arriving the computer’s screen caught her attention. Opened was the blank draft of the email she was going to send last night to Dr. J Higgins, the metaflux researcher. Sitting down at the desk, Kore rolled out her shoulders before typing out a message.

Hello Dr. Higgins, this is Kore. I work for the Hunter’s Association and was wondering if you would be available to answer some questions about the recent metaflux explosions that we are currently looking into.

She continued drafting the email leaving her contact information at the very end and hit the send button before she could second guess herself. Kore leaned back in her chair stretching, hoping that the day would be busy so she had something to occupy her busy mind.

By the time lunch had rolled around Kore was bored out of her mind, work had been slow and it was just one report after another. The appearances of wanderer had been minimal enough that other members of the UNICORNS team— she always found that to be a dumb acronym — were able to take care of it, which was strange because recently wanderer sightings had been on the rise. 

Earlier in the day she had sent a message to Zayne asking if he knew anything about what was in the documents that he had given her the day before. She hadn’t heard back from him until late afternoon.

“I had my suspicions about what was in them but I couldn’t be certain.” - Zayne

“If you would like we can go over it together later tonight” - Zayne

“That sounds wonderful. I’ve been confused” - Kore

“Okay. See you soon then.” - Zayne

Before she knew it, the day was over and Kore was packing up her stuff. After taking the stairs down to the lobby, Kore was shocked to find Zayne standing off to the side looking the other way. She ran over to him and tapped him on his shoulder. He jumped a little before turning, a look of relief flashed across his face for the briefest moment upon seeing who it was.

“Kore, where did you come from? I thought you were coming from over there, he said, slightly confused, pointing at the other set of elevators on the other side of the lobby.

“I took the stairs, you know, for my health and all,” Kore responded with a cheeky smile.

“Ahhh,” Zayne said trailing off. He looked off into space for the briefest moment before shaking his head and snapping back into reality. “Should we get going then?” he asked, gesturing ahead, which she nodded to.

The two fall into step on their way out the door. On the way to Kore’s apartment they had decided to stop and grab some take out for dinner. They fell into a comfortable conversation about each of their days, Kore being particularly interested in the research Zayne was working on. The pair stepped off the elevator onto Kore’s floor and walked together to her door.

“...and that’s how Protocore Syndrome type N works,” Zayne concluded as Kore unlocked and opened her door. What met them was a disaster, her apartment was still an absolute wreck from last night when she had torn it apart looking for her charger.

“Um… It doesn’t usually look like this,” Kore said to Zayne sheepishly. She guided him into her home and cleared off the table, moving the box of documents to the countertop. She then went to grab plates and silverware so that they could eat. Zayne unboxed the Thai food. They both dished up their food and sat down to eat. An awkward silence enveloped the atmosphere. Unwilling to wait, Kore got up and grabbed the documents to go through while they ate.

“Okay, so here they are, it says some things about how my heart has an Aether Core in it, but I don’t even know what that fucking is, and it says something about me being tested on but I don’t remember that at all, but it also says that my Grandma was involved somehow, her name is all over those papers, but that just can’t be right,” Kore started all in one breath, spilling out the thoughts that had been consuming her mind. She took a deep breath and continued, handing the folders over to him, “I just can’t imagine her doing something like that at all. I’m just confused, I mean what does this all mean?” By the time she ended her speech she was near tears.

“I am not that knowledgeable about aether cores, but I know someone who is. Let me read the documents and see what I can find before we go any further,” Zayne said, pushing his plate away and opening the first folder. He put on his glasses that he had pulled from his suit pocket.

Kore was so nervous that she could no longer stomach eating, so she took her plate and put the food in the trash before setting it in the sink. She grabbed the to-go boxes from the table and put them in the fridge for safe keeping. Looking over at Zayne his eyes were uncharacteristically wide so Kore pulled up a chair next to him and sat down.

Zayne looked over at her before positioning the papers so that they could both read them. The words that she read last night staring back at her almost mocking her. Zayne cleared his throat before speaking, pushing up his glasses.

“It’s saying that the reason your Protocore Syndrome is so different, unlike anything I have ever seen before, is because it was intentional,” Zayne explained, an atypical aura of uncertainty shrouded his words. “If this is to be believed, the condition in your heart is the product of an aether core being placed there.

“A good doctor knows his limits and there is more in these papers that I can’t fully comprehend, but my mentor Dr Noah would likely be a better resource when it comes to this. 

“However the excessive redaction in some of these documents,” Zayne said, pulling out a few from the pile, “could make it difficult for even Dr Noah to understand. I can’t offer you any guarantees, but I can provide you with some contact information if you would like.”

“Dr. Noah?” Kore questioned, “He was my old doctor, before you were. Didn’t he go to the Arctic to study something?”

“That’s right, I am surprised you know that, Kore,” Zayne responded, “He’s currently in Snowcrest studying the ways in which-” Zayne's eyes went wide and he cut himself off. He straightened his tie to regain his composure before continuing saying, “Actually I am not allowed to discuss his research. But I go and visit him sometimes to assist him.”

The gears started turning in her head, completely glossing over Zayne’s slip of tongue. I have a long weekend, I could go up to Snowcrest tomorrow and be back before work. That way I can get answers and that can lead me to closure. I know I promised Tara I would rest, but that can happen later, this is more important.

“I recognize that look in your eyes from when we were kids. I don’t think that it is a good idea to go up to Snowcrest, Kore,” Zayne said somewhat sternly, “The weather up there is often unpredictable, it wouldn’t be safe for you to go to a place you’ve never been all by yourself.”

“Then why don’t you come with me,” Kore said excitedly as if it was the best idea in the world. 

“You’re not going to give this up are you?” Zayne questioned after a moment’s pause and long sigh. The look in her eyes is all the answer he needs. “Alright, we can go tomorrow, you need to get some sleep, it is a long journey.” 

With that he stood up and went to the door, Kore following behind him. Before he left her apartment, Zayne hesitated at the door before turning back around.

“However Kore, there is one more important thing in these files that I think you need to know; it seems that your Grandma was one of the researchers involved with the Aether Core being placed in your heart,” Zayne said in his usual even tone, but his eyes were filled with empathy.

“Oh,” Kore responded meekly. After a beat she continued, “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, right? Meet at the train station?”

“Right,” Zayne said, looking concerned, but nodding anyways “have a good night, Kore.”

Ignoring the doctor’s advice, after he left she returned to the files at the table, pouring over them until the words lost all of their meanings. At this point she had been awake for well over 36 hours, and she was struggling to keep her eyes open. 

Kore woke up to a streak of sunlight directly on her face. The confusion of why she was plastered to her dining room table lingered until she remembered she was reading late into the night.

Shit, I am supposed to be meeting Zayne at the station soon, Kore thought to herself. Checking her watch she realized it was much later than she thought it was.  In a panicked state she quickly grabbed all of the papers, placing them back in the box and packed a bag for the weekend. If asked about it she probably couldn’t tell you for certain what was in there, but she made it out the door on time so that was all that mattered. 

Once she arrived at the train station, Kore put her hands on her knees, taking a moment to catch her breath. She looked around for Zayne and spotted him at a nearby cafe. He somehow spotted her at the same time and waved her over with the faintest hint of a smile. 

“Hi-” Kore says at the same time Zayne starts speaking. 

“I was worried you weren’t going to make it on time,” Zayne said as he stood up from his seat, placing a large tip on the table.

“Sorry about that, I woke up a bit late,” Kore said apologetically. Zayne gave her a single nod in return as if saying her response was acceptable. The two of them started walking over to the platform to wait for their train.

“I did some digging into aether cores, but there wasn’t too much literature out there on it, as far as I can tell they are a type of modified protocore, but as for how they are modified or to what extent I do not know” he said, cutting right to the chase. “I also alerted Dr. Noah of your presence on this trip,” he added

“What do you mean ‘my presence’?” Kore questioned him as they walked over to the train.

“He was already expecting me.” Zayne calmly said, “I was going up this weekend to assist Dr. Noah in his research, he said he had something important to show me.”

“Zayne, how do you know Dr. Noah again?” Kore asked. 

“Dr. Noah was one of my professors when I was in medical school. When I arrived at Akso Hospital he was about to retire from his position as Chief Medical Officer, but despite that he still helped me adjust to the new setting. He became a mentor to me while I was in my residency, and I owe a lot to him. Now that he has retired I do what I can to help him.” 

While Zayne talked the train to Snowcrest pulled up to the platform and they boarded the train, managing to snag a private compartment. Kore plopped down onto the seat and Zayne looked at her closely for the first time that morning. He saw the prominent dark circles and bags underneath her eyes and sighed in clear disappointment.

“I see you didn’t follow my advice last night,” Zayne said, shaking his head, “It is not wise to ignore your doctor’s orders, you know.” Kore could only give him a guilty smile.

Zayne sighed again, “It will be a while before we arrive in Snowcrest. Rest until then and I will wake you once we arrive.”

“Kore,” a voice said, while a hand shook her shoulder gently. Her eyes opened and she blinked groggily, once her eyes got into focus she saw Zayne crouching in front of her. “We arrived,” he continued, standing back as Kore stretched.

“Alright, let’s get going I suppose,” Kore yawned out. 

Outside of the station, in the dim light, they were met with a sparkling white landscape of snow. A small fox-like creature came bounding up for them, which scared Kore, who hadn’t noticed its presence prior nor did she expect such a thing to occur. 

The fox ended directly in front of Zayne and eagerly wagged its tail. Kore raised an eyebrow to the man, who took some food out of his messenger bag to give to the animal.

“This is Pie,” Zayne said, turning to Kore. “Pie, this is Kore,” Zayne introduced her to the animal, to which Kore sent him a curious glance. “Pie’s intelligence is on par with that of a nine-year-old child. Remarkably, he is able to recognize faces and remember names. Dr. Noah rescued him from Mount Eternal a few years back while he was doing some important research.

“It looks like Dr. Noah was unable to greet us at the station so he sent Pie in his stead,” Zayne explained further and Kore nodded in understanding.

Together they trekked in relative silence to the outskirts of the village to where Dr. Noah was residing. Upon arriving at his house, Zayne opened one of the back doors as if it was a regular routine and beckoned Kore to follow.

“Dr. Noah’s health isn’t what it used to be. Sometimes when I or some of my colleagues come up he has us let ourselves in,” Zayne said, navigating the home’s hallways with familiarity, “If he doesn’t show up at the station that means that we should let ourselves in.

“Here is where you will be staying,” Zayne said, stopping at a door on the second floor. “I will be in the room right across from you,” Zayne said, pointing to another door behind him with his thumb. He turned around, heading to his room but hesitated. Kore’s hand was turning the doorknob when Zayne turned back.

“You should really try to get some rest tonight, Kore,” Zayne said with full sincerity, “I am not saying this as your doctor, but as your friend.” 

“I’ll try,” she responded with a faint smile, “Goodnight, Zayne.”

“Good night, Kore,” he echoed.

At that, Kore entered her room and plopped down onto the twin sized bed, ready to get some sleep, but sleep wouldn’t come to her. She tossed and turned for what seemed like hours. Her mind was so preoccupied with questions about everything that had happened to her recently. She couldn’t help but wonder if the files had any connection to her grandma’s death.

Eventually she abandoned all hope of sleep. Deciding she might as well be productive if she couldn’t rest, she plucked a box from her bag and sat down at the small desk by the balcony, which she just noticed.

She turned on the small lamp, illuminating the room with a dim warm light. She finds a pad of paper and a pencil at the desk and realizes that it would be wise of her to take some notes and not just reread them, that way she can ask better questions of Dr. Noah.

Hours past and she had obsessively written pages of notes that would be incoherent to anyone but her when there was a tap in the balcony window. Jumping in her seat, Kore turned to see what had caused the noise only to see Zayne staring back at her from the other side of the door. 

Kore rose from her seat and went to the balcony. It was the earliest hours of the morning, when the sun was still shy and the stars are still shining bright. Zayne gave her a charming smile when she opened the door, moving aside to let him in.

“I had a feeling you would still be awake,” he said, stepping into the room. His gaze drifted over to the mess of papers on the desk and he raised an eyebrow knowingly. “Late night studying I see,” he said, reaching for the papers.

“Yeah, I have been trying to make sense of it all,” Kore said, picking up her pile of notes, handing them out to him “But it’s been exhausting and I don’t even know if I’m looking at the right stuff.”

“Okay, let’s see what you have so far,” Zayne said, grabbing the notes she held out to him. He attempted to read them, eyes squinting, but either because of the dim light or him not having his glasses he wasn’t sure.

“Hold on,” Zayne said before he stepped back through the balcony, returning moments later with his glasses in hand. “Alright, let’s take a look at this,” he said as he put on his glasses.

Kore giggled lightly at his demeanor, reminding her more of an old man than that of a young doctor. Zayne looked up at her confused as to what was so funny. She shook her head, refusing to elaborate on what she found to be humorous. He just gave her a weird look before directing his attention back onto her notes.

Reading them closer to the lamp this time with his glasses on, it turned out that the notes were just illegible to begin with, incomprehensible chicken scratch coated the page. The frantic, overlapping scribbles sent alarm bells off in Zayne’s mind, afterall, it was only natural for a doctor to be concerned about the well-being of their patient.

“Kore, what does this say,” Zayne asked without the hesitation that would be typical of not being able to read someone else’s penmanship. Grabbing back the notes, Kore looks over them, eyes becoming wide.

“I-I, I honestly don’t know what this says,” Kore admits, “I guess I was so wrapped up in my mind I wasn’t even looking at what I was writing.”

A brief pause circled between them before Kore bursted out in laughter, after a brief moment Zayne joined in and the atmosphere shifted. They end up dropping the important conversation and talk late into the night like old friends would. Kore talked about becoming a Hunter and the pressure of taking the exam, which brought them to discussing Zayne’s time in medical school, which led into stories about his time up here helping in research and anecdotes about Dr. Noah.

Soon enough morning arrived, beams of sunlight slowly crept their way across the room. Kore and Zayne’s conversation slowly started to dwindle with the appearance of daylight. Zayne notices the clock across the room and stands up.

“It looks like it might be time for breakfast, we should probably get ready” he said moving towards the balcony door, “I’ll meet you downstairs.” Before he left her field of view he stood there and calculated something in his mind.

“It was nice talking to you again, Kore,” Zayne said with a small, unsure smile. A large, genuine grin spread across Kore’s face, the biggest since her grandmother had died.

“I really enjoyed it too, I will see you in a bit, Zayne,” Kore said, shutting the door behind him. Zayne nodded and disappeared into his room.

Kore arrived in the kitchen after she had made a few wrong turns. The sight that met her was unexpected. At the stove Zayne was cooking something that smelled delicious and at the countertop Dr. Noah was chopping vegetables. 

Before she could officially make her presence known a small ball of white fur came rushing over to her. Stopping at her feet, Pie sat wagging his tail and let out an excited yelp of sorts.

“Pie, not inside the house,” Dr. Noah scolded the fox. Looking up at the noise, he noticed Kore’s presence.

 “Ah, Kore, I see you’ve already been introduced to Pie,” Dr. Noah said with a warm smile, his fondness for the pup clear in his voice. “It is nice to see you again. Come and join us, breakfast is just about ready,” he continued, passing the vegetables off to Zayne. He moved towards the small table in the corner of the kitchen and gestured for her to sit.

“Did Zayne tell you how Pie got his name?” the elderly man asked once they both sat down. Without waiting for a response he continued, “When I first rescued Pie, one, no two, no three winters ago, he was a weak little thing, and was practically on the verge of starvation. 

“Well, the vet said that he was perfectly healthy but I don’t know about that,” he interrupted himself, wagging his finger. Zayne came over with the pan of food and divided the contents into three portions at the already set table. It was clear from the bored expression on his face that he had heard this tale many times. Dr. Noah paid no mind to him and kept on talking.

“The little thing was so hungry he ate not one, not two, not even three, but six whole meat pies at once,” the doctor said, making a bunch of exaggerated hand gestures, “At that point I knew for certain what his name would be, there was no question about it.

“After I nursed him back to health, I tried to release him back into the wild, like you’re supposed to do, but this little bugger kept coming back. It was clear he wanted to stay with me, so I kept him. It turns out that he is a smart little fella and mighty good with directions, so he has become my little guide. Visitors and the folks in town absolutely love him, and how could you not, he is such a good little boy.”

He showered the small fox with love while praising him, giving the animal scratches under its chin and some of the food off of his plate. Kore cleared her throat, sitting up straight as she did so. The old man looked at her with curiosity in his eyes, weaving his hands together and resting his head on them.

“Dr. Noah,” Kore started trying to gather some courage, “I have some questions about my heart condition and I think you might be the best person to ask.”

“Oh, my dear, it is much too early to talk business. There will be plenty of time for that later, for now let’s just enjoy each other’s company,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Dr. Noah believes in a strict separation between his work and personal life.” Zayne leaned in and said to Kore, “It is best to follow his wishes so you can stay in his good graces.” Kore noded in understanding.

“I haven’t seen you in so long, tell me, how are you doing, Kore,” Dr. Noah questioned her. She was about to form a response when he continued, which seemed to be a pattern for him these days, far from the patient man she once knew. 

“I heard about Josephine, dear, and I want to offer my sincerest condolences,” he said, grasping her hands across the table.

“Thank you,” Kore responded, mildly uncomfortable. Zayne stayed as stone faced as ever, as if this was usual behavior for the man.

“You know, your grandmother and I used to good friends back in the day, we were two of the few students picked to intern at Ever, even back in the day they were a big deal, not quite the global behemoth they are today, but it was still a very competitive prestigious internship,” Dr. Noah recounted fondly. “Your grandmother was a phenomenal researcher, one of the best I’ve ever seen, and back then she had to be, I think she was one of the first women to get an internship at Ever too.

“But you should have seen her in the lab, well you technically did when you were younger, but I don't know if you remember that, either way I was disappointed when I learned she had decided to leave the field. Josephine was one of the greats , it really was a shame to have her leave, as far as I am concerned, science lost one of its best that day.”

“Thank you for telling me that, Dr. Noah,” Kore said, tears welling up in her eyes, the reverence that he held her grandma in being clear.

Zayne glanced at his watch and pointed out the time. “We’re going to be late if we don’t get going now,” he said.

Dr. Noah turned to the clock on the wall confirming the time.

“Well gee golly, you are right, thank you my boy,” the eccentric old man exclaimed while slapping his knee, “Let us all meet back here in let’s say 20 minutes, yes?” Dr. Noah turned to Kore, “Oh you are coming with us aren’t you, Kore?”

“Um… sure,” Kore said questioningly

“Great” he said with a genuine smile, patting her on the back and leaving.

“Um Zayne,” Kore said, anxiety creeping into her voice, “what did I just sign up for.”

“Don’t worry, you will be alright. We are going to Mt. Eternal to take some measurements. Just be sure to dress warm, it gets cold out there.” Zayne said before leaving her all alone in the kitchen.

Zayne hadn’t been lying, Mt. Eternal was practically a tundra. Kore learned about SnowDogs, a robotic replication of an old fashioned sled dog that was faster than real ones and was used by tourists and locals alike. Pie had tagged along as well and was yipping with joy as the SnowDog brought the team from checkpoint to checkpoint. The pair of doctors collected measurements for who knows what, not Kore, as they went along.

“Dr. Noah, I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions,” Kore said, having to shout of the wind as the sled was being pulled to a new location.

“Yes, Kore,” Dr. Noah said, an aura of professionalism had enveloped him since they had reconvined, this was yet another side different from the  friendly doctor she had known growing up.

“I was wondering if you could tell me a bit more about my heart condition, I never really understood what was wrong with me,” Kore questioned, picking the doctor’s brain.

“Well that is a bit of a complex answer. You see Protocore Syndrome is a unique disease that is still being studied, there is not a lot of literature currently available. Most of what we have on the disease comes from small sample sizes and because each case presents so differently, studies are difficult to replicate,” he answered distractedly, as they had arrived at another of the data taking points.

“Although there are different established subcategories of Protocore Syndrome, namely types A, E, and Y, there have been proposals of a few more types. I have written papers about what I believe to be a distinct type of Protocore Syndrome, type H, which is the type that I believe you have. When you were a kid Josophine authorized the scientific study of your unique condition, which was why you were always in the hospital, as she knew how important the research was, especially in the early days of the disease.”

This new information had surprised Kore, her grandma had never told her about being the subject of a scientific study. Quickly, complex emotions developed on that, Kore understood that it would’ve been important, but she couldn’t help but feel betrayed by being used as a guinea pig without her knowledge.

“Your unique subtype presents various difficulties with your heart and nervous system, difficulties that are only exacerbated under pressure, which is why I warned you against becoming a hunter. But boy did Josophine give me a talking to after I did that. She had wanted you to have the ability to live a normal life and pursue your dreams, plus she said that you were ‘too damn stubborn’ to back down from becoming a Hunter.”

Dr. Noah continued on with more medical jargon leaving Kore lost. This man was clearly a genius, but he was communicating with her as if she was a peer of his rather than some clueless patient that had no idea what he was talking about.

“You were, excuse me, are an interesting case both medically and scientifically. In fact you were one of the reasons that I stayed a doctor for years after reaching the retirement age. Sometimes I wonder how you are doing. If you were to ever give me the honor, I would love to be able to see some of your more recent medical records,” Dr Noah admitted, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“Umm… sure, yeah,” Kore said, stunned.

“If you would be comfortable with it Kore, I can pull up your records once we return to Dr. Noah’s house,” Zayne said. Kore was slightly taken aback that he even had remote access to her records, but Dr. Noah was beyond delighted with the news.

It was early in the evening, around dinner time, when the group returned from the mountain. The numerous layers that they had on for warmth were quickly discarded at the entryway. Ever true to his word, Zayne was quick to grab his tablet and pull up Kore’s recent medical records.

Before placing the tablet in Dr. Noah’s outstretched hand, Zayne said to him sternly, “As a former medical doctor I assume that I can trust you to only look at Kore’s files and not any other patient.”

“You have known me long enough boy to know that I would never do something like that,” Dr. Noah said with a trustworthy smile before waving the younger doctor off, “Now go and take your shower, I know the sweat bothers you. No need to suffer through it, besides Kore might want to hear some of what I have to say privately.”

Zayne looks between the two and gives them a stark nod before heading off.

“Now that we got him out of the way, we can get down to business,” the doctor joked before his eyes combed through her file. “It looks like your recent results have been changing a bit, but considering your position as a Hunter and your, uh… unique condition, that is to be expected.

“Would my unique condition have anything to do with what resides inside my heart,” Kore asked him, unsure of how much he truly knows.

“Ahh…” he said with a knowing smile, “It seems that you found out about the aether core. Am I right in assuming that?”

“Yes, I did learn about the aether core. How long were you and Grandma going to keep that from me,” Kore asked, the feeling of betrayal in her voice clear.

“It was not my decision whether or not to tell you about it. When I saw you, you were only just a kid. It was up to Josephine, your guardian, to decide to tell you what you needed to know,” he said with a sympathetic smile.

“Did Zayne even know about it?” Kore questioned accusingly

His smile dropped, a serious look overtaking his face, “No, he did not.”

“Don't you think that this would be important for, I don't know, my doctor to know about,” she said, her voice raising.

“Aether cores are considered to be top secret. I could not tell him even if I wanted to-” Dr. Noah was cut off.

“So you wanted to keep him in the dark, just like you kept me?” Kore growled.

“Look, my hands were tied, there wasn’t much I could do,” he said, attempting to pacify her. “If I was able to tell you I would, it wasn’t up to me, the same thing with Zayne. I am sorry, Kore, but there is more at play here than you know. That is all I can say on it.

“Would you like to return to your records and we can discuss it in more detail now?” he asked.

“Yeah, fine, whatever,” Kore said as she crossed her arms, clearly still upset from the whole ordeal.

“Alright, so it is important to understand a bit more about Protocore Syndrome to understand why you are such a special case. You see, Protocore Syndrome is usually caused by exposure to protocores, but that isn’t the case for you,” Dr. Noah started.

“You have a modified protocore, an aether core, inside of your body. I am not quite sure how it got there but your grandma had told me that you were attacked by wanderers during the Chronorift Catastrophe fourteen years ago. You were among the first people ever to be attacked by them, especially attacked by them and survive. Quite frankly you are lucky to be alive from that alone.

“Josephine also told me that you were saved by someone who took out the wanderers that were attacking you, which, again, is a miracle considering we had no idea how to deal with them at the time.

“With this information I have always hypothesized that when the wanderer attacking you was killed, that fractured its protocore, and somehow part of if ended up residing in your heart. I cannot be for sure how it happened as by the time I had first seen you, any external injuries from the attack had healed.”

For the first time, probably since Kore met him, Dr. Noah seemed to be uncertain about what he was saying, almost as if he knew more than he was letting on. Unsure what to make of that, Kore filed it away in her brain for later. Nonetheless, Dr Noah continued on.

“There is also an issue with your Evol. It is relatively rare for someone with Protocore Syndrome to have. But, it is seen more in those with aether cores.”

“You mean there’s more people like me?” Kore asked, intrigued for the first time.

“I only know about a handful of people, but yes there are more like you,” the doctor said reassuringly, however he was quick to walk some of his statement back, “Of course I cannot share much about them with you, and even I am not privy to such knowledge.” The doctor chuckled a little as if he was trying to make her forget his slip up.

“Well, anyways, I should probably be starting on dinner soon,” he said, changing the subject.

“Do you need any help Dr. Noah?” Kore asked, standing up.

“No, no, no. Sit back down. Besides, you are a guest here, I wouldn’t dare make you lift a finger,” he said while pulling out a large stockpot and potatoes.

“Well, what about Zayne, wasn’t he helping earlier with breakfast?”

“Oh, no, he doesn’t count. He has been here far too many times and he needs to start pulling his weight around here,” Dr. Noah said, struggling to carry the pot full of water to the stove.

“If I can’t help with dinner then what can I do,” Kore asked, getting antsy.

“My dear girl, didn’t you hear what I just said? You are a guest here,” he said before pausing, “If you insist on doing something why don’t you sit and listen to an old man’s stories? But you have to stay seated.”

Kore sighed defeatedly, but nodded in agreement. Content with her response, Dr. Noah smiled at her as he pulled out a cutting board.

“Would you like to hear some stories about your grandma?” he asked, seeing Kore’s face change to one of interest he continued, “Where to start… Ah, I know..” As he cooked, the old doctor told Kore stories about how he had met her grandmother and the antics they used to get up to.

He continued to speak, cutting vegetables haphazardly as he went, causing them to be in all different sizes and shapes. Kore wasn’t sure if he knew what he was cooking, or if he even knew how to cook. He would use the large chef’s knife that he was wielding to make wild gestures as he talked.

“... she always had a soft spot for you and Caleb, even before she adopted you when the experiment was forced to stop,” his eyes went wide as he realized what he had just said, “Whoops, sorry I can’t talk about that. I mean it’s just the ramblings of a silly old man, pay me no mind.”

Kore’s eyebrows furrowed. What the hell is he talking about? Grandma adopted us after we were orphaned during the Catastrophe. Is his memory okay? Kore thought to herself, confused and concerned. But there was already a seedling of doubt in her mind from the fact she had never told her about the aether core.

It was just then that Zayne made a reappearance. Dr. Noah sighed in relief as he walked in and the focus was shifted away from himself.

“Perfect timing, Zayne,” he said with a big smile, “Dinner is just about ready, why don’t you get out some bowls and spoons to set the table.” Zayne did what he was told. “Oh, and grab that loaf of bread over there, and some butter too, it will pair well with our soup.”

Zayne had an uncharacteristic look of horror that flashed over his face, which was missed by Kore and Dr. Noah alike. He hadn’t even thought about the doctor cooking by himself; he had been so used to helping him in the kitchen the realization that Kore wouldn’t be never crossed his mind.

Humming happily to himself, Dr. Noah ladled large servings of the soup, into each bowl. He insisted that both Zayne and her start eating right away while he returned the pot to the stove, continuing to mess around in the kitchen.

Beyond hungry from the long day, Kore eagerly started to eat. The soup, or was it a stew, was an otherworldly experience, just not in a good way. Stunned that the elder man was able to create something that was practically a non-Newtonian fluid, she wasn’t sure what to make of it.

She had no idea that something could be bland yet overwhelming. The last time she had tasted something this salty it was when she was a kid making cookies and Caleb switched the salt and the sugar. Caleb had found his prank hilarious… until he got excited about the cookies and stuffed about three in his mouth. Grandma, who had intended to punish him for the prank, found the whole thing funny and decided that he had punished himself enough. Although annoying at the time it was now a fond memory, even more so now that they were gone.

“In his old age, Dr. Noah’s taste buds have gotten dull,” Zayne whispered leaning into Kore, “don’t worry about actually eating it. If you would like, you can just pretend to so you don’t have to worry about hurting his feelings. After dinner I will clean up and make it seem like you ate the entire bowl.”

Noise radiated from the kitchen, clearly Dr. Noah was looking for something, there was a small grumble of curses before he gave up and returned to the table, clearly upset.

“Oh, there’s the bread!” he said joyously. The old man chuckled to himself and sat down. He was quick to devour his bowl of soup and did so eagerly. He even went to go and grab seconds.

“What did you guys talk about while I was away?” Zayne asked, folding his hands on the table. Kore found it to be a thinly veiled attempt to avoid eating the soup, Dr. Noah, however, paid it no mind.

“I was just telling Kore over here some stories about Josephine and our time back in school. She was quite a riot,” he said, seemingly delighted to share. “You know, come to think of it, she isn’t the only/first colleague of mine who interned with me at Ever to die recently. There was also James Higgins -”

Kore looked up at that name and her stomach dropped. “James Higgins? As in Dr. James Higgons, the professor at Linkon University studying metaflux?” she asked worriedly.

“The very same, did you know him?” Dr. Noah responded.

“No,” Kore admitted dejectedly. Zayne gave her a questioning look to which she mouthed ‘later’ to.

“Ironically enough it was a metaflux explosion that killed him,” the doctor continued, glossing right over Kore’s response. She sat quietly for the rest of dinner.

Next >

[kentopedia]

please come home for christmas

chuuya nakahara x f!reader

wc: 2.9k

summary: higuchi throws a port mafia christmas party, but you and chuuya are in the middle of an argument.

merry christmas! this one took me so long because my computer deleted it when i was at 1.2k words :)

requested by @silverbladexyz

It was the kind of thing only Higuchi would think to do—throw a Christmas party at the Port Mafia headquarters, home to one of the most dangerous organizations in the world.

A ridiculous notion, really. Yet, you all indulged her, showing up in the least festive outfits imaginable, to a dismal and drab party with a very low level of energy.

The entire thing had been conceived as a fruitless idea, bound to be denied by the boss. Yet, when Higuchi told Mori her grand plan and Elise overheard, that was the only thing she had spoken about for weeks.

It was certainly a done deal after that. Everyone was required to show up.

Horribly festive music played through the halls as Elise choreographed her own dances, pulling in helpless victims to be her partner. It was Gin, now, who had been chosen as her pawn.

She moved her arms robotically. It was comical how she looked so much more comfortable with assassinations than she did dancing.  

“Ah, you made it,” Mori said when you finally arrived, nearly fifteen minutes late. You had just finished up an assignment and had gotten back to headquarters as quickly as you could. “Elise was asking about you all afternoon. Doesn’t she just look darling?”

You refrained from making a face at the comment and instead smiled at the young girl.

Her curls were pinned up by a red ribbon, matching her festively red velvet dress.

“Very cute,” you said, nodding along to indulge your boss. “As always.”

“I agree!” Mori was too enthusiastic for your liking. Though you itched to make your way over to your team, you took idle conversation with Mori as an opportunity to remain on his good side.

You had a bit of leeway with him, since Elise favored you so highly, but Mori was too unpredictable. You didn’t want to test him.  

Thankfully, it wasn’t long before he was distracted by something, signaling you to leave him alone once again.

There was a long table with various drinks, and you reached for one, hoping that it was still safe. Though you pondered it for a moment, you were willing to take the chance.  

It’d been a long week—you didn’t think you really would’ve minded if you’d dropped dead from some poison beverage.

Akutagawa scoffed as you passed him, his arms crossed over his chest as he brooded amongst the more cheerful atmosphere.

It was an amusing sight to see. The way he itched to tear apart every single decoration with his destructive ability, while Higuchi practically hung off him, chattering his ear off.

“What gives you the right to be so late?” Akutagawa sneered, watching you with contempt as you took a sip of the liquid. It burned on the way down. “And why isn’t that obnoxious ginger with you?”

Higuchi seemed to notice you at that moment, and you didn’t get a chance to respond before she had directed her attention towards you.

“You’re here!” she offered a smile, more cheerful than usual. You weren’t sure if it was because of the party or because she was spending so much time with Akutagawa. “What do you think of everything? I tried my best, but the boss’s requests were a little tight. It stifled my creative vision.”

“It looks great,” you said, before acknowledging the man behind her. “I was on assignment; sorry I couldn’t be here earlier. Did you really miss me that much, Akutagawa?”

You pointedly ignored the topic of Chuuya, not willing to admit that you wondered where he was as well.

Akutagawa scowled harder, nearly throwing himself into a coughing fit. “Please. I only wanted to make sure the boss wasn’t letting you off the hook.” His dark eyes flitted around the room, checking to make sure he hadn’t missed your usual partner.

You’re not sure how he could’ve—Chuuya usually commanded a room.

“He’s not here,” you said, shrugging, before Akutagawa could ask again. “Must still be on an assignment. Chuuya’s not one to risk Mori’s wrath.”

Akutagawa’s face barely changed, though you could still sense his disbelief. “He let you go out on an assignment on your own?”

“I’m fully capable of handling things without Chuuya’s assistance.”

“Maybe,” Akutagawa said, something along the lines of a compliment. “But he’s always—”

“You’re not still fighting, are you?” Higuchi interrupted; her eyes almost soft as she watched you intrusively.

You suddenly regretted telling her anything, even if she was your closest companion.

“We’re—”

“Fighting?” Akutagawa was clearly amused by that piece of information. “Really? What a surprise. I never would’ve expected an outburst of anger from either of you. You two are such delightfully calm people.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Sure. That doesn’t mean much coming from you.”

He scowled harder, though left the conversation to Higuchi, who was much too concerned for your liking. “You don’t know for sure if he’s coming?”

“Like I said, he’ll come. Mori didn’t really make it optional.” You shrugged. “Although, I haven’t talked to him in a few days. Maybe he’s doing something outside the city.”

There was a moment of silence between the three of you before you realized what you had just said. You sighed, rubbing your eyebrow, as you prepared for further questioning.

“A few days?” Higuchi said, confused. “But how? Don’t you too live together?”

“Well, yeah. I’ve been staying at a friend’s house for a few days. Didn’t really want to be at home.”

That seemed to get even Akutagawa interested. It felt odd to you that of all people, you were chatting about your romantic life to one of the most feared men in the country, and he casually stood by, taking it in with blank eyes.

“It must have been bad, then,” Higuchi said, her voice sad.

You didn’t want her pity, and you certainly didn’t need it.

Things had just been piling up, and there had been an overwhelming amount of stress on both you and Chuuya. The fights had been more frequent because of that; the two of you throwing unkind words at one another in an attempt to quell your own nerves.

It wasn’t fair to you, and it wasn’t fair to him, either. You needed some space before the entire thing came crashing down on the two of you.

“It was a stupid argument, really,” you said. Higuchi was closer to you, and you knew that she would take your side over Chuuya’s. You didn’t want her to think poorly of him when you were both at fault. “Just the culmination of being under so much pressure on both ends. I guess we just took it out on each other.”

He’d hurt your feelings badly, but you’d said just as horrible things in return. It made you sick to think of the careless words you’d spewed three nights ago, just because Chuuya said thoughtless things.

You fought more than you liked, but the two of you were temperamental that it was bound to happen. But this was the first time that neither of you had sucked up your pride an apologized immediately after.

“Will that be the end of the Mafia’s golden couple, then?” Akutagawa said lazily, covering his mouth with another cough. “I’m surprised it lasted this long.”

“I’ve got no intention of—” you cut yourself off hastily, swallowing. Though the thought of breaking things off with Chuuya made your stomach churn and acid rise up in your throat, Akutagawa wasn’t wrong.

The Port Mafia was no place for romance. Maybe the two of you would be happier if you stopped trying to make it work.

You revised your previous statement. “If it doesn’t work out between us, then that’s that.”

Neither of them believed you.

At that moment, across the room, the double doors opened to reveal Chuuya, followed by whatever two lackeys had accompanied him on the mission.

Your stomach flipped at the sight of him, squeezing harder when he briefly met your gaze across the room. It had only been a few days that you’d be apart, but your heart ached, desperate to reach out to him.

Though, you wouldn’t; you’d let him make the first move towards an apology.

“Are you sure you’d be okay with it ending?” Higuchi was unconvinced.

You glowered, ignoring her comment.

For half of the night, you did your best to avoid Chuuya. You turned when you saw him coming towards you, made conversation every second of the evening so he wouldn’t approach you.

Of course, you weren’t safe from conversation forever. You walked over to the drink table once again, needing a refill. Chuuya hadn’t been around anywhere. Then, he was beside you, materializing before you even had a chance to move.

You knew it was him just by the sound of his footsteps, the careful inhale he took before reaching you.

“You’ve been ignoring my calls.” The words were hard, without emotions. The facts: pure and simple.

The cup was still balanced between your hands as you kept your eyes forward.

You stilled, stomach flipping with the words. It was a dangerous game, looking at Chuuya. His eyes always told you more than you wanted to know.

“You knew where I was,” you said simply. “If you really wanted to talk to me, you would’ve come.”

“Mori’s hardly given me a moment’s rest since the week started,” Chuuya said, and you could feel the start of another argument coming on. You had to quell it here and now before it got out of hand. “I thought you’d be home—”

Before you could object, Chuuya had already stopped himself and begun again.  

“Doesn’t matter. I can’t let this go on for any longer. It shouldn’t have gone on for this long, as it is.”

“We can talk after the party, Chuuya,” you dismissed him. You didn’t have the patience for an emotional conversation. Not when there were so many people around.

“I want to talk now. I don’t want to spend the rest of the evening pretending that everything’s fine.”

“Everything is fine,” you said stiffly, though it was a lie to both your ears.

Chuuya was silent for a moment. You stared down at the glass, noticing the gentle shake in your hands.

“Baby,” he said softly, in that gentle tone he only used towards you. It was quiet. No one around could hear. You melted slightly, not taking another step. “Look at me, please.”

There was a sort of desperation in his words, enough vulnerability, to let you know he wasn’t joking. There were people around, and for him to be so open with you, if only just with his voice—it was unlike him.

“Why do we have to do this here?” you sighed, finally turning towards him. “Why can’t we…” Your words fell off as you looked at him, really, for the first time that evening.

His eyes were tired, the blue so much dimmer than usual. You could smell the alcohol wafting off him, and though he was as put together as normal, you knew that he was just as unhappy as you were.

You swallowed, feeling drawn back in way too easily. Against your better will, it wouldn’t take much for you to forgive him.  

“I can’t go back home if you’re not there,” Chuuya said, his words serious and heartfelt. “Just talk to me.”

You considered disagreeing, being spiteful, asking what if there’s no way to fix it.

Instead, you silently took his outstretched, gloved hand, and followed him into the next room.

The music got more and more silent as you walked down the hall, hand in hand like nothing had happened at all, until you found a room that you could speak alone in.

Your eyes felt warm—you’d forgotten to feel your emotions at all the past few days, shoved them all down into a tiny part of your chest that would seal all away. You did your best to force them back down, hating that you could so easily fall apart before him.

Chuuya shut the door behind you silently, and you crossed your arms over your chest as a protective barrier.

“What is it you wanted to say?” you asked, watching as he took a few steps around the room, his dark coat swishing in the process. “You didn’t drag me out all this way just to—”

“I love you,” Chuuya said, and you stilled, releasing a shaky exhale. He was deliberate with his words; he didn’t utter them carelessly.

You felt a warmth bloom across your chest, melting the emptiness that encased your heart.

With a shiver, you forced yourself not to break down so easily. You didn’t spend three days in silence just for Chuuya to get off without a heartfelt apology.

“And I love you,” you said, just as sincerely. An argument didn’t change that simple fact. “But we can’t keep doing this to each other, Chuuya.”

He took a few steps towards you, quickly, invading your space easily. His gaze was steely and piercing and you couldn’t look away.

“Don’t.” he said, holding your hands tightly, like a beacon. “Don’t do that. I haven’t had the chance to apologize.”

Cchuuya—”

“I’m sorry,” he said, pushing the words into you, ingraining them into your very soul. “You mean the world to me. I didn’t mean all the things I said.”

“Yet you said them anyway. An apology isn’t going to just erase that. It won’t change the fact that we always seem to hurt each other when things go wrong.”

“I know,” Chuuya said softly, tracing your cheeks lovingly. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop that.”

“Come home, please. I miss you. It’s only been days and it’s so empty without you, knowing that it was all my fault you left.”

You hesitated. “It wasn’t all your fault.” You remembered the way you didn’t try to snuff out the argument early, how you kept going just for the sake of it. “I’m sorry too, Chuuya—”

“Don’t apologize. I deserved all the things you said. I was fucking cruel, and you deserve so much better than that, honey.” He pulled you into his chest, and you fell into him easily, not knowing how to resist him. “Fuck, how could I ever say anything like that to you, huh? My sweet girl.”

“Chuuya, stop it.” You said angrily, though your voice cracked as you clutched his lapels tightly, swallowing back all the emotions you didn’t want to feel. “I’m not just going to forgive you, just like that.”

He sighed, holding you close, breathing in your essence as if for the final time. “I know,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You shut your eyes tightly. “But you have to know how sorry I am. I’ll make it up to you every day.”

“You don’t—” you were two between two places. It was hard to accept that you were partially to blame too, when Chuuya’s words just kept echoing in your mind painfully. “It’s not about the argument. It was stupid anyways—"

“It wasn’t stupid if I hurt your feelings.” He rubbed his hand along your back smiling as his pressed his lips to your forehead. “I mean it, okay? Whatever you want. I’ll spend the rest of my life groveling at your feet if that’s what it takes.”

“Chuuya,” you said, and before you could help it, you were laughing into his chest, shaking your head. “I don’t need you to grovel. I know how much you care.” You looked back up at him, tracing the soft lines of his face, eternally youthful. “We just argue so easily these days.”

“Still.” He smiled down at you lovingly, his irises a bright pool. “I can always be better.”

He opened his hand, letting mistletoe float directly above you, letting it hover against the ceiling.

“What are you doing?” you asked, smiling indulgently as you craned your neck back to the ceiling.

“Brought it as a last resort,” he shrugged, leaning into you with a grin. “It would be a shame to let it go to waste.”

“What if I don’t want to kiss you,” you said, making a face. “I haven’t forgiven you yet.”

Though, really, you had. You just wanted to go home, away from the party, away from the mafia, and curl into bed with Chuuya, where you could get some rest for the first time in a week.

“You wouldn’t break a tradition, would you?” Chuuya said playfully, bumping his nose against your own.

“Fine.” Your look was challenging, and a smile graced your features. “Just this once. No one’s ever caught me under the mistletoe before.”

You finally pressed his lips against yours, letting all your worries melt away as you fell into him. He tasted like peppermint and alcohol, and you were so tired of missing him.

“Come on,” you said, pulling back before you got too carried away. “We should get back to the party.”

Chuuya slung his arm around your shoulder, pressing a kiss into your temple one last time before letting the mistletoe fall back into his palm. “Let’s just go home,” he said, smiling at you with hearts in his eyes. “Almost everyone’s already left. I’m sure the boss won’t mind.”

[hanilessa]

I love love lovee your jealous tartaglia imagine waaah!! QAQ/ it's so cute seeing him get jealous (even if he's angy)

Could I maybe request a similar situation where he's dragging his s/o away, but when he pushes them against the wall, they have a mild fight or flight moment? Or a mild panic moment--- mainly because he's a bit too rough with them? In his s/o's head, it felt like he was hurting them juuust a bit over something they had no control over. I hope this makes a bit of sense.. aaahhh small comfort and a soft good ending between these two waahhh.. I love them ♡

` Author’s notes: hello, cutie!! waaaaah i'm very glad you liked it. also thanks for your request! i really hope you enjoy this drabble too <3 you just have no idea how my brains rot for jealous tartaglia

` Childe x Fem!Reader

` Genre: jealousy, romance

You panic a little when Tartaglia pushes you a little roughly against the wall. Both of you were in the east side of Fatui's headquarters, where no one usually went, and that gave Childe an advantage. No one could see you two, and he used this without a twinge of conscience.

His movements are a little rough, you can see on his face the remnants of anger and irritation that he feels towards Pantalone. He never held back or hid his true emotions. He always went ahead and took what he wanted.

So you weren't particularly surprised when the ginger man burst into your boss's office and, without thinking about anything, dragged you along.

You got used to his nature, but even for his unexpected tricks there were limits! You were extremely indignant, trying to get out of his grip, while Tartaglia's strong arms squeezed you in a steel hugs, and his lips tried to catch yours in a kiss.

"A-ajax!" You call out indignantly, trying to calm down your jealous boyfriend. You could call him by his real name, because you knew that harbingers and agents rarely walk in this part of the building. It was your blessing and curse at the same time.

You continued to twitch, squirm in his arms with the hope that you would be able to get out of his grip, but it was very problematic to do this, because the man was stronger than you, even despite training that you went through when you were a recruit.

"Y/n, please, don't make it difficult." His voice sounds in a commanding tone, rude and authoritative, and it seems to you that you're under his command again, in which you were until the moment you were transferred to the ninth harbinger.

Your legs begin to tremble, and you feel that excitement that you always felt when both of you were at work and tried to act not like lovers, but like a boss and a subordinate. There was some excitement in it.

Tartaglia cuddles closer to you, as if he wants to merge with you, leaving no empty space between your body and his. His actions and touches are rough, showing his anger and annoyance he felt when he saw Pantalone touch your hand.

"Ajax, please, calm down." You begged as heavy sighs escaped your mouth as the man's lips brushed against your skin in hot kisses that burned bright red on your skin like a brand. "I-i'm really fine! He didn't harm me. L-let's talk!"

The ginger man didn't seem to hear you. Right now, he only cared about his own desires. The desire to leave as many crimson marks on you as possible and show the whole world that you belong to him. And the desire to show you that you belong to him. It was at the level of animal instincts, which turned Tartaglia into a real predator.

You panic, unable to resist, and stop trying to get out of his arms, because it was simply impossible. After all, you knew that if Childe didn't want to — he wouldn't let go.

The ginger man noticed that you stopped resisting, and a sly smile appeared on his face. He gently pulled away from your neck and ran his hand over your slightly frightened face. You relaxed internally, noticing that the angry expression had gone from his face and it seemed that he gradually began to calm down.

"Well, baby, you can be nice and good, when it's needed." Sweet words make you feel embarrassed and you begin to furrow your brows, completely annoyed and dissatisfied with Childe's behavior.

His lips find yours in the kiss, but you were still annoyed and a little scared, so you wouldn't be yourself if you let him keep kissing you now. You clenched your teeth and bit down on his lip, biting through the skin until it bled.

Ajax's eyes widened in surprise, and the man pulled away from your lips. His face was excited, he licked the blood from his lips with his tongue, and his eyes lit up with that same sadistic light that frightened and excited you at the same time.

"Hm? Is my love not ready to give in to me and wants to fight? He licked his lips again, catching your frightened look. A wave of excitement went through his entire body as you pressed harder against the wall in an attempt to run and hide, that unfortunately didn't work out for you.

Childe came closer to you, leaned towards your face and rubbed his nose against yours. Using this action as a distraction to baffle you, he lifted you up in his arms and headed to his office. You grabbed his shoulders with slight excitement.

"If you're willing to fight, I can't refuse you."

[justblades]

been readinf ur works and omg🤤🤤🤤 anyways been thinking of gepard and giving him a hot bj while hes on duty and like some people hear it🙏🙏 makes me go crazy

⌕ HEAR MY PLEAS, 18+

⟢ CHARACTER : gepard x gender neutral! reader WC : 598

⟢ WARNINGS : (EX)PLICIT, MDNI. public blowjobs

along the strings of weak moans escaping gepard's saliva slicked lips are also endless musings of "enough", "they'll hear us" and "we'll get caught". the blond cannot contain himself anymore as he throws his head back and struggles to keep a close eye on your crouched figure, seeking refuge underneath the mere small table of the headquarters. he wanted you to stop, but another part of him doesn't want to - you were that good under him, stimulating his cock in ways he've never felt before.

still, you persist in providing service for your beloved captain. you toy the crown of his dick with your sloppy tongue's tip, twirling it around the head and to his slit in intervals, depending where the male would react the most from— to which part he lets out the deepest moans. "so, captain . . will you promote me now?" you tease and pump his cock all at the same, gepard's face crumpling even further.

"i told you before . . i don't like underhanded methods such as thi—!" you knew what he intended to say, therefore, you preferred not for him to continue his answer. in exchange, you bob your head up and down his length once again, locking a passionate gaze with the blond captain up above watching his cobalt irises agleam of pleasure turn into two little crescents.

your desire to pleasure the male and rise in the ranks burns brighter, so you take him in deeper, to which the big head of his dick is now hitting the spot of your throat, the two parts constantly kissing in every movements. "h-halt this!" gepard weakly objects and runs his gloved hand through his flaxen strands in the midst of the session, eyes closing shut from the overwhelming pleasure coursing through his veins.

withdrawing from his dick for a short moment to respond, "but captain, your cock is begging for it." you reply and flick the shaft as it bounces from how rock hard he was, "see?" the margins of your lips widen, a sneering smile sculpted— gepard however ran out of retorts from your absurd answers, his rationality already wearing thin. instead, shades of hot pink dusts his ears and cheeks, feeling mortified at how his actions are the polar opposite of his words.

he does his best attempt to catch his breath and demands for your attention, feigning resilience. "listen, i'll acknowledge your efforts, your hardwork, and . . i'll promote you." gepard explains, while you remain knelt in front of him, thinking hard what to do for your next move.

when suddenly, a knock of three times reverberate inside the headquarters, seemingly coming from the other side of the door. "captain gepard, is everything alright?" the blond's jaw falls agape and panic was written all over his face, but as a quick witted captain, he realizes it quick it was a small hurdle for him. "yes . . . i just had to contact someone. go back to your posts now."

his voice exudes of jurisdiction and power, his brows furrow as he answered. once he hears the flat, unison footsteps of the silvermane guards fading away, he sits back down at the chair— heaving a sigh of relief. "that was a close one."

all of a sudden, you're behind the male with your arms wrapped around gepard's broad torso, head cozied and buried from the comforting crook of his neck. an aromatic note meshed of his sweat's scent wafts into your nostrils, you couldn't help but ingrain in your mind the way gepard smells.

"shall we have them hear your pretty, deep moans then next, captain?"

[goldflinches]

The Hangman's Bridge (snippet)

Summary: When you're raised with a gun in your hand and the world in the crosshairs, love and the like are all but building bridges just to watch them burn.

Dream Di Clemente has never wanted, never hoped for a life outside the family business – until he meets Hob Gadling.

Square/Prompt: C1 - Lovers to Enemies | @dreamlingbingo

Rating: Mature

Ship(s): Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling

Additional Warnings: Assassins & Hitmen, Major Character Death, Non-graphic Violence, Blood and Injury

---

It ends on a bridge.

The moment hangs suspended between them. Dream, holding the smoking gun. Hob, clutching his bloodied side. Both of them staring at each other, eyes wide with surprise.

When Dream lets out a shaky breath, the moment breaks. Time shoots ahead breaking the solid line of Hob’s body, makes it waver. Makes tips over the side. Over the bridge. There is no sound when the river swallows Hob’s body whole. Just static that burns Dream’s ears. His throat is burning. Perhaps the night is swallowing Dream’s screams whole too.

It is a long while before the static and the burning recedes. Leaving behind the unstopping rush of the river. Dropping the gun, Dream stumbles to where Hob was last standing. Slowly, like moving through water. ‘Hob is still in the water,’ Dream thinks, ‘He is merely playing’. Even when Hob had never played with him like this. Never left him hanging.

He reaches the edge, still hoping to catch the afterimage of Hob. When he peers over the railing, he thinks ‘A test. This is a test. He is testing me’. For what, Dream cannot even fathom. There is only water rushing ahead. Only the last memory of Hob’s wide-eyed expression of betrayal. Hurt. Only Dream on a bridge, hurting over something he is only beginning to understand.

---

The rain has absolutely destroyed any dignity Dream had. Well. Whatever little was left after being chased out of the headquarters on his mandatory day off. Like he was some errant cat. Now, under the sudden burst of rain, he definitely feels like a –

They meet on a bridge.

“–a wet cat, mate.”

Dream turns to hiss to the stranger behind him. The man flinches as Dream’s mass of hair delivers an arc of rainwater to his face. Unintentional but well deserved.

“C’mon now,” says the stranger, wiping the water from his face. Brown eyes. Brown hair. “Was just saying you looked like a wet cat under all this rain –”

Dream contemplates hissing at him again. Zero dignity. Might as well commit to the negatives. The stranger puts up a placating hand to whatever Dream’s face is contorting into.

“So, d'you want to share an umbrella?” the stranger says, already bringing the umbrella over Dream. A small, warm smile. “Just until the rain passes. Or to the pub across.” Makes a sweeping gestures to a run-down building at the bank of the river. Multiple whitewashes. Lights burning bright.

The temptation to say no is extraordinary. But it is no rival to the slow damp taking over his socks. And Dream had no destination anyway. So he gives a curt nod. The stranger gives a small chuckle as he comes closer to shield them both from the torrential rain. And together, they cross the bridge in silence.

[josefavomjaaga]

Ida meets Ney in Russia

I dimly remember that somebody (Cadmus?) mentioned they wanted to read more from Ida. So here’s a brief snippet of Ida – for once – getting in trouble with her hero, of Ney scolding her and … being jealous of Eugène?

The meeting takes place somewhen in late 1812 or early 1813, as much as it’s possible to tell from Ida’s chronological rollercoaster ride. In any case, after or at the end of the Russian retreat. Because of course Ida had joined the Russian campaign as well.

And not only she. If any tumblerinas here plan on learning how to time travel and want to go back to see the Grande Armée march towards Moscow, they don’t need to worry about incognitos. Most likely they would barely be noticed, as apparently there were wagonloads of groupies following their heroes around.

Okay: four. But that’s only those ladies Ida travelled with. Plus, two of them died on the way back.

Ida was particularly fond of a Polish-Lithuanian girl named Nidia, as madly in love with general Montbrun as Ida was in love with Ney. Not that either of the two got to see their idol much during the march. As a matter of fact, the first thing Nidia learned before entering Moscow was that Montbrun had been killed at the battle of Borodino. Other than that, Ida claims to have had a bad feeling about this city from the start:

As we entered Moscow, occupied at last by our troops, this immense city seemed to us like a vast tomb; its empty streets, deserted buildings and solemnity of destruction were heartbreaking. Despite the pomp of victory, I felt struck by I don't know what new kind of melancholy when I saw it; the flags seemed to me gloomy and almost surrounded by funeral crêpes and black forebodings. We were staying in Rue Saint-Pétersbourg, near the Miomonoff palace, which was soon occupied by Prince Eugène. The sight of this young hero and the cheers of the soldiers, who adored him, gave us back all the illusions of victory.

Okay, so I just added this because it’s so rare to see Eugène receive some praise. (I should also mention that the adored young hero was growing bald at an alarming rate and that his bad teeth were killing him.)

As a matter of fact, Ida claims that Nidia was especially interested in Eugène because he was rumoured to maybe become king of Poland (yes, another candidate). These rumours did really exist, Eugène mentions them in a letter to his wife before the campaign started. (And he also makes it pretty clear that these are just rumours and that he has not the slightest ambition to stay in this country. He may have used different vocabulary than Lannes but he didn’t like the region any better.)

The following night, Ida and Nidia wake up to a burning Moscow and are saved by soldiers of 4th corps. On the retreat, they seem to have followed headquarters as closely as possible, which was their safest bet to stay alive (because where the emperor is, there’s food and firewood and a resemblance of order) but still witness horrible tragedies. After the crossing of the Berezina, they apparently followed the remnants of Eugène’s 4th corps to Marienwerder, before Nidia says goodbye and goes back to defending Poland.

But before, on the way, at Valutina (?), Ida finally sees Ney again

At this point, after the retreat, Ida at least starts to question her decision to follow the Grande Armée around. Or something like that.

I have just recounted my fatigue, my difficulties and my perils in a war beyond human endurance, because of the new aspects it seemed to give to destruction and death. A powerful feeling made me undertake everything and endure everything. Why was I going to face the hazards of a campaign? Why was I going to expose the weakness of a woman to the rigours of a climate of iron? In order to obtain yet another glance from the one whose smile had always paid me for my military errands. This look was always like a world offered to my hopes; the dream alone of this reward had made possible all the impossibilities of time, distance, sex and fortune. My life was thus burnt for a few hours, still uncertain. I was giving up everything for a moment in space. Alas! this time, how I was going to regret this moment that had cost me so much to conquer! I had just gambled my existence for a flash of happiness, and this flash, the quickest of my life, became the cruelest.

I had to spend three fatal hours in a miserable shack on the outskirts of Volutina. My dress was so horrible that it was a real disguise. In a person dressed like that, one could hardly suspect a woman. Ney, however, only had to look my way to recognise me. To have been seen was enough to have been discovered. I was about to rush to the front of this first happiness; I was about to testify to the soul of my life how proud I was of this divination of friendship, of this perspicacity of memory, when words of an energy which was far from that of the feeling of which I was possessed, intimated to me the order of the most positive dismissal: "What are you doing here? What do you want? Go away quickly." With this address and a few short, curt rebukes about my reckless rage and my fury at following him everywhere, I only had the strength to reply: "It is a rage, indeed, but it is not at least the rage of pleasure or vanity," pointing to my coarse clothes and my face burnt by the sun and faded by fatigue. He took no notice of either the harangue or the costume. He was off and running. His displeasure at seeing me there was so great; he let it out so vividly that I thought he was going to push me back to the opposite bank of the Dniéper in his anger. Stunned by the reception, struck by lightning, I remained motionless for more than an hour, staring at him, thinking I saw him; he had disappeared without paying any more attention to me or worrying about me.

From which we can deduct that Ney was not a reader of Jane Austen novels. Otherwise he would have known that whenever you have behaved in a way that made a woman fall in love with you that’s f-ing your fault, monsieur!

In 1813, when I recalled to Marshal Ney this scene of such violent fury, followed by such cruel silence and abandonment, he told me that he had been so mortally frightened by the extravagance which had pushed me into the midst of so many perils and the licentiousness of an army, that he had even been tempted to beat me. Truth requires me to admit that the temptation had been so strong that he had, I believe, yielded to it a little; it was without his knowing it, for the great passions know neither all they want nor all they do. Anger is therefore still love, since it is as blind as fury.

Girl, get help. Seriously.

When we crossed the Dniéper at Serokodia, I could have had another word with him. A new laurel had just hidden his wrongs and healed my wound. I could have, I wanted to say to him: You have just added to your immortal glory here; you alone have just saved Frenchmen lost in deserts of ice; I would have liked to express to him what all parties repeat today, what posterity will proclaim on the ashes of the brave... But I stuck to the joy of hearing the distant cheers. There was then a little fear in my delirium for him, and I almost have the idea that I idolised him even more by fearing him in that way…

Did I mention the thing about getting help?

Yes, even the reproach was appreciated by my heart, and still seemed to me a tender interest. I found I don't know what pleasure in hearing myself scolded later for my association with Nidia, my marches and counter-marches with the Viceroy's troops. No matter how many times I told the Marshal that Eugène's protection had been focused exclusively on the young Lithuanian girl, and that I had slipped unnoticed into this benevolence, he took it into his head to believe nothing of these sincere protestations. To make him reconsider such a strongly conceived idea would have meant exposing myself to a repeat of the Dniéper order and military correction. I had no intention of trying the same pleasure twice. Finally, he saw the evidence of my attachment, and he found the generosity to prove this belated but strong conviction to me [...]

By calling her his brother-in-arms, by the way. And this, I believe, really meant a lot to Ida.

[ema0rsully]

The Exception

An Invader Zim and SpongeBob SquarePants oneshot!

Enjoy 🍑💨✨

⚠️ Acts of Violence ⚠️

Danny sighed as he rubbed the temples of his forehead. “Zim… you’re killing me.” He groaned as he watched another blob of melted wall droop down. They were having a normal meeting when suddenly Zim yelled and ignited one of his bombs. The Irken stood at the side, arms crossed but with a somewhat satisfied look on his face as he stared at the destruction he’d caused.

Jenny walked over to him, “Zim, we’ve told you, no explosives outside the lab!” She said for the hundredth time but it only made Zim scoff. “I don’t an android telling me when it’s necessary to arm myself.” He stated, not even glancing at the robot to acknowledge her more.

Timmy walked over to the both of them, “For the last time, Zim! We’re not your enemy anymore! We’re a team, we have to work together.” He says. Zim cackled, “That's rich! Even coming from you, beaver man!” He insulted before turning his back on all of them. Suddenly he felt someone standing behind him, “We can’t keep going like this, Zim. At some point, you need to trust us. We trust you. We need to put aside our differences and make things work.” Jimmy said firmly.

Zim cackled again, “You are what people now call the Modern Jesters! Try looking in the mirror for once before you babble!” He snapped before walking away. Jimmy sighed as he watched Zim’s figure run off to the lab. “So, what do we do about this?” Danny asked, staring at the walls that were still melting. “Leave it, we’ll deal with it in the morning,” Jimmy responds before walking to the Portal that lay in the middle of the headquarters, entering his homeworld coordinates and jumping through. Everyone internally sighed as they made their way to the portal to return home.

Just as the last member walked through the portal, there was a deafening silence. Unexpectedly, the portal lights up again, revealing someone was coming through.

Zim mumbled to himself, hands tinkering away on a project he had been working on. He mumbled out small curses to himself, still hating how things went in the meeting room. His hand then reaches over to his toolbox for the wrench only to grab air. He growled and turned to the toolbox. “Curses! That stupid scientist probably took it for his stupid experiments! Or that android for its body parts! They purposely misplaced it to give me internal suffering!!!” He cursed. He was about to throw something out of anger but then a hand extended next to him, the hand holding his wrench.

“Ah, it's you,” Zim said as he took the wrench without hesitation and started working on his project. SpongeBob smiled, “The one and only. Watcha doing here? It's late y’know, you should be in bed.” The sponge says. Zim rolled his eyes, “I have no time for the zees right now.” He says it like it is an insult.

SpongeBob walks next to him, “Well, have you eaten?” He asked again. Zim scowled, “No.” he replied. “Well, good thing I brought the leftovers from work.” SpongeBob said as he handed out a paper bag, Zim frowned as he waved it away, “I told you, foolish sea walker, I don't want to eat-” he paused and sniffed the air. The aroma was captivating. His posture relaxes as he stares at the paper bag. “Uhm… what is it exactly?” He asked curiously. “Oh- it's a Krabby Patty! One of the things I cook for work.” SpongeBob explained with a smile, his hand still gesturing for Zim to take the paper bag.

Zim stared at the paper bag, then at the wrench in hand, then at the paper bag again. “The project can wait!” Zim stated as he threw the wrench into his toolbox and grabbed the paper bag. Zim opened it and the aromas intensified, “Woah..” he said as he grabbed the burger. “Careful, it's still hot,” SpongeBob warned to which Zim frowned, he didn’t need to be babied.

Zim took a huge bite and his eyes widened. It was savoury but also hot. Zim felt his tongue burn and his eyes water slightly as he tried to adjust to the temperature. SpongeBob hands him a tissue which Zim reluctantly takes to wipe his tears and dab his mouth. “This is good..” he says before taking another bite which makes SpongeBob smile wider.

“I heard about what happened earlier, are you ok now?” SpongeBob asked after a short moment of silence. Zim rolled his eyes, “I did what I had to do.” Was all Zim replied as he chewed aggressively. SpongeBob was quiet, “But it's not often you pull out a hand bomb and throw it out in a room without reason.” He says. Zim swallowed, “How do you know? You weren’t there!”. SpongeBob shrugged, “Danny messaged me and told me everything.” He said which made the Irken groan.

Zim took the last bite out of the burger, chewing aggressively as he could feel SpongeBob’s gaze on him. He swallowed, “What!? What are you staring at?!!” He yelled. SpongeBob replied, “I was just trying to figure out why’d you do something like that.” He says kindly. Zim growled, “It's pointless telling you anyways, the thing is already dead anyways.” He says which makes SpongeBob raise a brow, “Dead?”

Before Zim could explain further, something fluttered in front of them. Zim and SpongeBob looked to see an orange butterfly fluttering in front of them. Zim’s eyes widen, “ITS ALIVE!! IT MUST’VE ESCAPED SOMEHOW!!!” He screamed as he scrambled to the desk to grab another hand bomb. Just when he was about to throw one, he heard a splat. Zim turned to see SpongeBob with his spatula out, splattered the butterfly onto the metallic floor. Zim carefully puts his hand bomb back on the table and walks over to SpongeBob.

“Is- is it dead?” He whispered, before SpongeBob could answer the wings of the butterfly twitched. They both screamed, SpongeBob then clapped the heels of his boots together which then protruded a set of spiky cleats below his boots. SpongeBob then hurriedly stomps on the butterfly repeatedly, the metal floor clanging as it's hit by SpongeBob’s iron cleats.

After a while, SpongeBob stopped and took a step back. Zim moved closer to see the butterfly shredded butterfly. No signs of life. “It's dead!” He announced which made SpongeBob sigh of relief. “Thank Neptune..” he says. Zim looks curiously at the butterfly and SpongeBob. “Why did you do that?” Zim asked which made SpongeBob pause, “Do what?” He asked.

Zim pointed to the corpse, “That. I didn’t think you’d kill a butterfly.” He says. SpongeBob visibly shivered, “I don't like butterflies…” he said like there was a bad memory attached to it. Zim’s eyes widen, “You don't?” He asked, SpongeBob shook his head, “They’re too…. unpredictable.” He says as he rubs his arms uncomfortably.

Zim smiled, “Yes! Exactly! They are! And the way they fly too! It's irregular!” He says. SpongeBob nods, “It is! And what's worse is when they try to take over your home town and eat your friends and family!” SpongeBob says in fear. Zim’s eyes widen, “What!!? They can do that?!!?” He asks in shock as SpongeBob nods. “Yeah! It was so scary!!” SpongeBob says, the memories replaying in his head.

“Well, did you manage to kill it?!” Zim asked, SpongeBob shook his head, “No, it got away somehow.” He says. Zim frowned, “Dammit, you should’ve killed it.” He says and adds, “You never know that they’re reporting back to their commander! It has probably given the intel back to its home base! Luckily you killed this one.” He says as he stares back at the dead butterfly.

SpongeBob sighed as he clapped his heels again which made the spiky clears retract. Zim stared at his boots with wonder, “I like your boots.” He says as he points to them, “The spikes make them shine.” He added. SpongeBob smiled, “Thanks! I made them myself. Never know when you need cleats.” He says which makes the Irken nod, “Indeed.” He says.

The Irken and sea sponge took a moment to breathe. “Is that why you blew up the meeting room?” SpongeBob finally asks. Zim frowns and looks away, “Yes.” He replies. SpongeBob smiled, “It's ok! Happens to the best of us.” He says which makes Zim perk up. Usually, he’s met with a long line of questions or ‘you should’ve just done..’ type of statements. Zim’s antennas twitched, “You make my actions seem like a small thing.” Zim finally says. SpongeBob laughed, “Trust me, I understand how you feel.” He says. Zim stared at him for a while, his expression softened. He did trust SpongeBob.

Ever since he joined this group of nobodies, Zim realised he found himself conversing or even interacting more with SpongeBob. Zim just nodded and looked down, maybe this team wasn’t a lost cause after all. SpongeBob suddenly held his hand, “C’mon! We should head back! It’s late and headquarters can look quite scary at night.” He says as he leads Zim out of the lab, hand in hand.

Zim enters the coordinates and the portal lights up, revealing the light that will send him to his homeworld. “The architecture and engineering for this portal is poor.” He casually states which makes SpongeBob laugh. “I mean, a 15-year-old and an 18-year-old built it. What did you expect?” He said with a smile. Zim turned to SpongeBob, and smirked, “You’re an exception, SquarePants.” He says. SpongeBob smiled, “Call me SpongeBob, Zim. That's what all my friends call me.” He says.

Zim looks back to the portal, his back facing SpongeBob. “Thanks for the meal, SpongeBob!” He says before jumping through the portal. SpongeBob smiled, “Bye, Zim!”. The portal closes and the light dims down. SpongeBob turns to the mess in the meeting room. He sighed, “Let's clean this up.” He said as he walked away to storage to clean up as usual.

[celestial-corner-of-desires]

Good day~ Thank you so very much for another request of mine, it was beautiful as always~ 🌸 I have another one in mind, if I may? Let’s see… How about Dietfried's significant other surprising him by bringing a homemade lunch, made with care and love, at work? And maybe even something for his subordinates too, out of kindness and gratitude. Will that little act of kindness make Dietfried a bit... jealous? I wonder, tee hee hee~

Happy New Year, darling! I hope you will forgive me for the wait. To make up for it, I wanted to sprinkle some... Spice, hehe.

Wiping your sweat off your forehead, you look at all the mini dishes you cooked up in front of you. In recent months, cooking has become one of your new favorite hobbies. Since you spend most of your days caring for the house and not having enough time to travel around, learning new and foreign dishes helps to mend this little desire. You often share your newest creations with your beloved Dietfried, who has been your biggest supporter and encouraged you to try again if you fail. When there were times when the dish got extra burned, or meat was undercooked and raw, Dietfried would wipe tears that you couldn't contain from disappointment in yourself. He would lean in, kissing your forehead, whispering how proud he is of you trying something new, and telling you not to belittle yourself because of a few mistakes.

"Even perfection can make a mistake. And it only makes me love you more than I already do."

And with recent terrorist attacks, Dietfried barely has time to come home, to properly enjoy your dishes, only to come home exhausted, kissing you, and heading to bed. It pained you to see him overworked and how badly his well-being was in this state. To ensure that you were safe, Dietfried asked you to limit your visits to him until the attacks were lowered, since he would never forgive himself if anything were to harm you. You have his heart in your palms, and the mere thought of seeing you in any pain, would break Dietfried. But a small selfish part of you craved those days when you and your beloved would snack on your newest creations, laughing and chattering about everything and nothing at all.

So, an idea popped into your little pretty head.

After checking each dish, you have prepared, you go to grab a basket with a towel to place it in. Firstly, you put in Quiche Lorraine as the main dish, the smell of smoked bacon with cheese decorating the top, making your stomach growl with hunger. As much as you wanted to make new items, you settled on making some of Dietfried's favorite childhood dishes that his mother shared with you. Adding to the Quiche Lorraine, you fixed up some fresh Croque monsieur, a sandwich with melted cheese and ham, topped with fried egg, toasted to perfection. Lastly, you baked up some light-as-air souffles and Paris-Brest to compliment the overall meal.

Glancing to check that you got everything, you went to properly get ready, wearing your favorite dress, complimented with jewelry, and lipstick that made Dietfried irresistible to your lips. Checking yourself out in the mirror, you took a deep breath and smiled to yourself. Moving to grab the basket, you also took your purse and keys and walked out of the house.

If your beloved couldn't come to enjoy meals with you, who says you couldn't come to him with meals? And besides, when has Dietfried ever said no to you, when you looked at him like you worship him with your love?

Walking on the streets of the capital, you let the lively noise of your surroundings tune like music, letting your imagination create stories as the different voices and sounds provide you with the basic concept to play from. As you reached the headquarters of the navy, you were greeted by the guards, who recognized you as the naval captain's spouse, opening the gates for you. You thanked the guards, wishing them a good day, heading towards the office of your loved one. Reaching for the handle of the door, you lightly pushed, it before walking up to the receptionist. As she notices your presence, she greets you.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Bougainvillea. To what do I own the pleasure of seeing you?"

"I am pleased to see you as well, Mrs. Barbier. I was hoping if I could see Dietf- *ahem* Captain Bougainvillea to hand him his lunch."

Mrs. Barbier was a sweet elderly lady who had been in the military for a few decades. Luckily for her, she never had to partake in war, but the stories of officers and commanders still left some horrific imagery. Ever since you began to date Dietfried and would visit him, Mrs. Barbier would always lightly tease you both about how you would make the perfect married couple. True to those predictions, Dietfried proposed to you later and the rest is history.

"Of course. The captain just got off his meeting with the fleet commander and should be available at this hour."

"Wonderful! Thank you so much. Oh, would you like to try some treats I prepared?"

You found the courage in yourself to say it, as you prepared some baked goods for Dietfried's colleagues as a kind gesture.

A glint of excitement passes through Mrs. Barbier’s eyes, "I would be delighted dear."

Opening the basket, you hand her a small bowl of Paris-Brests, and she takes one of them to sample. Biting into the pastry, she hums in joy as the chocolate and creme cover her taste buds, letting the sweets melt off any stress she has had prior.

"Oh, my goodness, this is so delicious. I remember the captain praising your cooking to others, but this is beyond of what I could have imagined!"

A bashful blush covers your cheeks, as you let out a smile, "I am glad you like it. I wasn't sure that I made them as precisely as the recipe required it to be, but-"

"My dear, if you think those aren't good, you are being too humble. If you decide to open a bakery, I will be your first customer! Oh Piere, boys!" Gentlemen passing by look towards Mrs. Barbier, glancing at the lady. Holding up the bowl, she continues, "Come try those sweets! Mrs. Bougainvillea has baked some of the divine treats you will ever get to taste."

A cool shiver comes down your spine. Sure, Dietfried told you that your cooking was incredible, but you never had someone else try your cooking, especially strangers.

A smile forms on their faces, as they walk forward, taking the pastry in their mouths. As the sweet sensation coats them, an approved groans were let out.

"What a treat!"

"Delicious beyond expectations!"

"Damn, this is better than what my wife has made!"

The anticipating disappointment washes away from your body, as the gentlemen turn to you, thank you, and ask if they could have more. Feeling a bit clustered by the men, you take a small step back, a polite smile placed to ease yourself. You came here to feed your Dietfried, but it seems you got some extra attention than you expected.

"I don't recall surrounding a defenseless woman as part of the Navy protocol, soldiers." A musky voice comes from behind the men, causing them to shiver, turning to the source. Leaning on the wall, arms crossed, Dietfried stares at the soldiers, his eyes darkening ever so slightly, only to soften when his eyes land on you. Your heart can't help but skip a beat at how despite not talking or touching you, a simple glance from him sends you relief you didn't know your body was asking for.

"Captain Bougainvillea, sir!" They salute him.

Returning his gaze to soldiers, he pushes himself off the wall, straddling forward. As he gets close to you, the soldiers move aside to make way. Dietfried stops only mere inches away from you, but you can feel the heat of his body coursing onto you. You give him a shy smile, to which he returns with his gentle smile. Shifting his eyes to Mrs. Barbier, Dietfried lifts his eyebrow at her.

"It would seem you are keeping my spouse from me, Mrs. Barbier.” His tone is jesting, but you can see something else laced at the edges of his eyes. Hunger, darkness, and overwhelming danger. A shiver crawls down from your spine to your thighs. Getting lost in your mind, you shift your eyes from his eyes to his lips, biting the inside of your lip.

God, why does he make you feel so safe in his presence, but so vulnerable and exposed, like a simple touch will undo you and make you crave him to pounce himself into you little cu-

“Dear, are you ok? You are zoning out, aren’t you?” You feel his hand on your face, letting his gloved thumb trace a circular pattern on your cheek.

Blinking yourself from your little wet dreaming, a blush covered your cheek as you answered, “Can’t I come and see my beloved husband without any reason, hm?”

A chuckle escapes Dietfried’s lips, as he looks at the clock, signaling midafternoon, until shifting his eyes to the basket in your arm. “Based on the smell, I don’t believe you came with no reason, my love. Please follow me to my office, Mrs. Bougainvillea.” He gestures with his hand towards the direction of his office, while placing his other hand on your lower back.

Lifting your head up, you nod and bid farewell to the soldiers and Mrs. Barbier as you headed towards the office. You could hear the soldiers chatting between each other over your cooking and how overprotective the naval captain appeared to them.

Crossing the threshold of the office, you walk towards the desk, placing the basket as Dietfried closed the door. Before you can open the basket’s lid, he quickly strides towards you, clasping your hands, causing you to turn around, only to be met with the clash of his lips on yours. The passion and power behind Dietfried’s lips on yours makes your mind spin around, causing black spots to appear as breath leaves your lungs. You could feel his hands leave your hands, only to trail one of them on your back, while the other on your thighs. You grasp onto him to balance yourself, as his tongue invades your mouth, caressing all your insides. Before you could pass out, Dietfried slowly pulls away, letting you catch your breath. Feeling the air rushed back into your lungs, you open your eyes, only to see Dietfried’s gentle verdurous eyes turn dark like a shade of midnight forest.

“Busy day?” You let the words slip before your mind could process it.

A growl leaves Dietfried’s lips as he brings his hand from your back to your neck, never letting his eyes fall from you.

“Oh, baby. You have no fucking idea how grateful I am for you coming here, all dressed up for me like the prettiest doll in all nation, and with the food that I know you put your hardest to make just for me. However…” He leans forwards, kissing your neck, “Seeing you surrounded by those men, staring at you like you some kind of toy to use to get wasted, it made my blood boil. To let them look at how perfect you are, with the curves crafted by the renowned artists, hair that lures me and bends me to my knees, the lips that make me want you so badly that I lose focus on everything else.”

If there was blush before on your cheeks, your whole body was burning red from the desire Dietfried was whispering on your skin. Getting lost in how your body was reacting to his lips on your neck, you failed to notice Dietfried’s hands snaking down to your waist. He picks you up, settling you on his desk.

You gasped, “What are you doing, Di-“

Before you could finish your question, Dietfried raises the skirt of your dress and spreads your thighs apart. With your lipstick on his lips, he whispers against your thighs, “Enjoying my meal, my doll.”

From this point NSFW material. Proceed with caution.

He dives his head towards your covered clit, kissing it up and down. A moan escapes your lips, as you hold the desk for support. Smirking at the sound, Dietfried pulls your underwear aside, sticking his tongue as he licks, circling the warm skin and sucking on the buds that send shockwaves through your system. You tilt your head back as the sensation rushes towards your core, as his tongue makes its way through your gummy walls. Your thighs, without you thinking, clasped Dietfried to make him move closer to give you more pleasure that your body can’t help but yell at you to grind for.

It's been so long since both of you fucked one another, with the limited opportunities the discussion of going further with sex life, it would seem both of you yearning some friction that only your bodies could provide for one another.

Dietfried knew which spots to touch to make your body know how much he worships you, how every pulsation that he can feel through your body is making his dick harden at the thought of you feeling good. Knowing that he makes you feel how special you are to him, how devoted he is to you and everything you have given him. He wants you to know – no – feel fucking much you alone make him the happiest man in all of human existence.

“Fuck, look at you baby. I only just began, and you are already soaking wet. Have my baby missed me thrusting my cock so deep, pushing against this tight pussy, as you begged for me to make you lose any consciousness you possessed, hm?” He moans into your cunt, as he lets himself breath in the smell of your needy walls, as your pre-cum covers his lips.

“P-p..Ple-please.” You master so coherent thoughts through your fogged mind.

“Please what, baby? You know if you want something you need to say out loud, I can’t do anything unless you tell me. Use your big words baby.”

Using the last strength you could gather, you let your eyes fall to his as you mewl, “Please, fuck me harder till I am full to the brim with your essence.”

The last of string of any control snaps in Dietfried’s eyes as he snarls into your pussy, going faster and sharper as your climax began to grow deep in your core. You try to muffle any moans and screams with your hand, while moving your other hand, grabbing Dietfried’s hair to push him closer. Your body begins to shake as you were on the edge of falling into the bliss, the white fire coursing through your clit, until he growled, “Cum for me.”

The crash came down with such powerful force, leaving you shaking, tears running down your cheeks at how deliciously good that was. You pulled your hand away from his hair, as bliss settles in your body.

Dietfried notices your tears, standing up to kiss them away and then bring his lips to yours, as you wrap your arms around his neck. Though you could taste yourself, there was still distinctive part of Dietfried’s taste that your body could always feel.

“You did so good, baby.” He purrs against your lips.

“Anything for you, my love.” You let out a big smile, feeling warmth of how intimate you two were with each other.

“Can I ask you something?” Letting your finger twirl around with his hair, you hummed for him to continue.

“Would you mind if I fulfill your wish?” Letting your emotional side overrule your rational one, you slip one of your hands down to his pants, feeling is bulge hard as a stone. You run your hand up and down, squeezing him as Dietfried rolls his eyes at how your torturous touches. Deciding to be nice to him, you pull his zipper down, pulling his cock out of his underwear.

Aligning him with your entrance, you signal with your eyes, “Push in and breed me.”

[screechthemighty]

More fanfic updates?? What is this, the blog of a productive writer??? It happens sometimes. Note that this chapter pretty heavily features an OC for this canon, so if you haven't read "steal my heart and break my pride", her showing up might not make sense. But also with the fandom being made up of ten people and a shoe, I assume you guys already have, lol. Anyways, on with the show!

crash and burn (and then return again) | a titanfall 2 fanfic part four

The first thing Cooper did when they entered Harmony’s orbit was contact Alicia. He’d already confirmed she was stationed there—a fact that cast the planet’s near-demise in a new and more terrifying light—so it was just a matter of contacting the right department and asking if she was in.

“Jack?” Alicia said.

Hearing her voice again made him suddenly, fiercely homesick. “Hey,” Cooper mumbled. “So, uh…guess who’ll be in town soon?”

“Hang on.” Cooper heard her phone being put down and the distant sound of a door closing. When Alicia returned to the call, she had the same tone she used whenever the local farm gossip was especially juicy: “Dude, did you guys really blow a hole in a planet?!”

Cooper made a strangled noise that felt like either a laugh or a sob. Not even he was sure which. “I…” He took a second to collect himself. “I don’t know if I’m allowed to answer that.”

“In that case, I won’t ask. Just promise me I’ll be the first one you tell when it’s declassified.”

“Okay. I promise.”

“Are you okay?”

“Physically, I’m fine. Emotionally…” He had to take another second. “I understand if you’re busy, but if you have time…I could really use a familiar face.”

 “Absolutely.” She heard the sound of a keyboard in the background as she kept talking. “What time are you landing?”

“Hour or so, but I know I have to talk to some other people first. I can meet you wherever you are if that works?”

“Sounds good. I should be able to get off early. A few people owe me one." She gave him her number and instructions on how to find the main supply headquarters. “There’s a lot of signage, so you shouldn’t get too lost. Give me a call whenever you’re available. I can always come to you if anything goes wrong.”

“Copy that. See you in a bit.”

“See you, Jack.”

At least he’d have that to look forward to. Cooper tried to focus on the upcoming meeting, not the negatives of what landing would mean.

It was hard when he had to put back on his old rifleman gear—the only other clothes he had—and carefully fold up Lastimosa’s gear. He might have been a pilot now, but wearing Lastimosa’s gear when he went to see his family felt wrong. He didn’t want to get Cassie’s hopes up.

What do I say to her? What does anyone say in this situation? He wasn’t sure who to ask. He’d actually dug up a blank death report as they approached the planet, just to get an idea of the script. The form felt so impersonal, cold. That wasn’t going to work at all. Not when Lastimosa had meant something to him, too.

Maybe start there? We both lost someone important to us. Could be a point of connection.

Hopefully it would read as empathetic and not that he was trying to make it all about him.

Cooper joined the rest of the SRS as they readied to depart. He tried not to make eye contact with anyone. He tried not to look at any of the Titans. He kept his arms wrapped around Lastimosa’s gear and tried to rehearse what he’d say to Cassie.

I’m sorry…he died a hero…no, not that, it doesn’t make any of it better.

I’m sorry. He saved my life. That just makes it my fault, doesn’t it?

I’m sorry. I know what you’re going through. No, no, that does feel like I’m making it all about me…

The doors opened, letting in a flood of late afternoon sunlight. There were people outside, families and friends of the other people. There was a lot less decorum this time; everyone departed in a formless crowd, running to the people they recognized. Cooper stepped out slowly, carefully scanning the clusters of people.

I’m sorry. He was a good man. I only hope I’m half the pilot he is…

His heart caught in his throat.

He’d seen Cassie’s picture once. It was an older picture, but she hadn’t changed too much since it had been taken. She was standing next to a blond woman in a technician’s jumpsuit. Cassie looked right past Cooper as she scanned the crowds; the blond woman looked right at him.

She knows. Cassie doesn’t. So he would be the one to break the news to her. Cooper swallowed hard as he approached. Cassie finally noticed him as he got closer, then noticed what he was holding.

“I’m sorry…” Cooper croaked out.

“No,” Cassie interrupted. “No.” There were tears in her eyes immediately; when the blond woman tried to rest a comforting hand on her shoulder, Cassie shook it off and bolted.

Do I go after her? What should I do? Cooper looked helplessly at the woman Cassie was with, but she was frozen, too, her eyes shut tightly. “I’m sorry,” Cooper repeated.

“It’s not your fault.” The woman shook her head. “I should go after her. I was hoping to have a word, but it can wait.”

She must have been the woman from R&D that Briggs had mentioned. Cooper was glad she wasn’t going to try and go through with the meeting. He didn’t have it in him to talk right now. “That’s fine,” he managed to choke out, though he wasn’t sure she heard. She was already jogging in the same direction as Cassie.

That was that, Cooper supposed. Some homecoming.

Someone approached him. “You okay?” Briggs asked.

He wasn’t.

“Can I go?” Cooper asked.  It wasn’t very professional, but he couldn’t be there anymore.

“Of course. We’ll send you your room assignment. Do what you have to.”

Cooper nodded and walked off, hugging Lastimosa’s gear to his chest. He didn’t think he’d be able to talk, but all he could think about was seeing Alicia. Just having someone around who really knew him.

He didn’t want to be Jack Cooper, freshly minted pilot and hero. He just wanted to be Jack.

.

Alicia was able to give him very clear instructions on how to get to employee parking. She was already there when Jack arrived, standing next to a motorbike. She hadn’t changed all that much since he’d seen her last. Cooper knew she’d cut her hair, but she’d worn it up all the time back on Persephone, so he didn’t really notice a difference. It was a relief to see that at least one of them hadn’t changed. “This is all I’ve got,” she said apologetically. “Are you okay to ride double, or do you want me to find something else?”

Cooper had hoped he’d be up for talking when he saw her again, but no dice. Alicia caught on quickly, though. “Right hand for bike, left hand for other?” she offered. Cooper raised his right hand. “Cool. Hop on.”

If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend they were home, sharing a ride because the other person’s bike had broken down or another family member needed it. He allowed himself to dwell in that fantasy while the ride lasted, to imagine that he could smell the crops and hear harvesting machines off in the distance. He was almost hesitant to open his eyes when the bike stopped, but what he saw when he did wasn’t awful. It looked like a public garden, one not too occupied, either. It wasn’t home, but he could work with it.

Alicia led him to an isolated corner near a fountain. They sat together on a bench, staring out over a sea of green and brightly-colored flowers. The temperature here really was good for growing, Cooper noticed. If he’d been in a better headspace, he probably would’ve tried to identify some of the plants in sight. All he could do now was appreciate that they were still there.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Alicia said, “and I’ll be quiet if that’s what you need. But I’m really glad you’re okay, Jack.”

Cooper nodded. He kept his arms wrapped tightly around himself and closed his eyes. He let the quiet and the presence of his friend settle over him. He couldn’t say that he felt peaceful, but he slowly started to feel better than he had. Eventually, he was able to speak.

“I can’t talk about it yet.”

Alicia nodded. “That’s fine. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Some of it might be confidential. Have to worry about that now.”

“Well, that sucks.”

“Hmm.”

“You’re pretty good at keeping secrets, at least. Are you hungry yet?”

Cooper took a deep breath and carefully considered the question. “Not yet. Might have to force something. I can’t…actually remember when I ate last.”

“I can make congee. Show you my place. It’s not a bad little apartment, all things considered. Bigger than my room at home, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah. I’d like that.” He could probably handle congee. “Might fall asleep on your couch.”

“You won’t. It’s an awful couch. Trust me. You’d be better off on the floor.”

He’d fall asleep on a pile of rocks at this point. Anything to make the aching feeling in his body go away.

“You’re not alone anymore, Jack,” Alicia added. “You’ve got me now, too. Just…try to remember that.”

He was glad she hadn’t said like before. Nothing about this situation was like the good old days. They could never go back…and honestly, the good old days hadn’t been that good since he was a kid.

But he’d take any improvement he could get. Especially since it involved her.