#ran x readier

[renn-phrs]

[𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑾𝑶𝑴𝑨𝑵]

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ(s) : Haitani Rindou, Haitani Ran, Sanzu Haruchiyo

@romancesuckerouo thank you for the idea and sorry for the late rec 😔🤍 hope you enjoy it!!! (I don't get to edit it as much as I should but ye :D)

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≣ Haitani Ran

You knew he was a dangerous man by the looks of him. Tall, Broad shoulders, Hair always in place, never a single strand of hair falls down to his beautiful face. The way his eyes looked back at you with those sleepy eyes never fail to make you down on your knees. No matter how much you wanted to look for any imperfection he has, there is no sign of it. Oh, those laughter and light touch he gave you when you two were talking always leave you with many fantasies at night. If only he knew what you think about him, perhaps he would call you a minx by now.

Curious to say, why does an attractive man like him doesn't have a spouse or at least a lover? Surely, his brother the number two of Roppongi may have linked him with some higher-ups woman, but from what you see there isn't any ring on his fingers except his pinky which is a gang ring. A sin to say you love him like he was your only hope in this world. You want him. Ring finger wrapped by a silver ring with a beautiful gemstone to seal the touch given by him. Playing with time isn’t what you wanted, 2 years of closeness with him, sharing each other's thoughts and laughter, while other people think you were a couple.

But all the wishes, and fantasies you held high were destroyed by a single letter he handed you. Standing infront of him not knowing what to say nor think while he explained what was inside the letter with the usual smile he had. Shakily took the letter from his hand before seeing him vanishing within the iron door that separates both of you. The grip on the letter gets tight as your heart is being squeezed painfully by all of the sudden event. A letter which you never expect a man like him would even held something like that.

"It will mean alot to me if you could come to my second anniversary party." That is the word you will hated for the rest of your life, the way he smiled while saying that will scar your heart forever.

The night was filled with tons of emotions bubbling up in the air where the two love birds are. People drinking and dancing to the beat as the night gets darker. You grip your blazer watching all the guests having the time of their lives whereas you salt away your own feelings for the sake of that man until your eyes land on something that makes your broken heart broken into pieces that could never be restored again anymore. The way his hand trailed alongside the black dress she wore, eyes digging into her lovingly, the long but steady kiss he gave her. Oh, you wish you could rip that woman from him or stab her with the cake knife you've been holding this whole time. But seeing them both having the time of their life could only make you smile bitterly before leaving the place to cry alone for another night.

≣ Haitani Rindou

You loved him for sure. He was a perfect man that anyone would die for to be his spouse. A gentle soul masked under a stoic face, a perfect cover up into making people believe he is a cold human being. The lovely nickname he gives you every time he sees you. The smile followed by the hug he gave you every time he came home to see his wife waiting for him to arrive. But those eyes never lied. The way he looked at you is dearly, but those eyes reflect nothing but emptiness. Nothing but an orb without its shine. Hollow, that is what you would describe his stares and soul. No matter what, he still treats you like the queen you are, holding your status high as if you were an important person to the whole city to know, and he mostly keeps your status clean from any dirt that could stain your name. He may be cold-hearted from the outside but a soft one on the inside just for you. That is what you thought.

Oh, the way you wish to never see the truth and keep on dancing on a line of lies with your eyes closed to the melody of happiness. Those eyes that were meant to only see you glint as the person walks past him, eyes locked on the figure that merges within the crowds while you were standing there beside him watching his eyes trail to his interest. Your grip tightened around the champagne glass as you felt your heart being crushed into pieces by the fact you caught him red-handed, not even trying to hide it from you. You cleared your throat, earning your husband's to focus back on you as you asked him to have a dance with him. Even after you dragged him for a dance, your eyes never fail to see him taking a short glance at them. You wanted to scream, punch or just hit him as bad as you wish you could, but you are better than that, besides it will be on you if you ever get a divorce with a lovely man like him. What would your family say to you?

Curious to say, being stubborn you are, you follow your head to find out who that person is, not thinking straight on your own guts that say the opposite. Alas, you hit the consequences, your broken heart shattered once more as you learn that they are the first person and the last he would ever love the most where you were just a wall that divided the two souls that should have been united.

≣ Sanzu Haruchiyo

Stepping into his world was the reddest flag all humans could see. But who cares, in the eyes of a loof person like you who thriving the trill of life this is what you wanted. Being on top of everything, looking down at the city from a skyscraper penthouse you owned with an expensive red wine your husband’s college brought you as a present for the 2nd anniversary of your marriage. What a lovely life, where money does buy happiness. Buying expensive gifts, dresses, and jewelry, was your everyday to-do list. Needless to say, you were living the life that everyone could have dreamed of.

But those feelings of consistently worried and betrayal never leave your little heart of yours. Fidgeting your fingers as your wait for your dearest husband to come home even after past midnight knowing he will come back in the morning. The sound of the front door opening makes you rush to find your husband. You sigh as your eyes trailed to the man who helped your husband to walk. You quickly take his coat and told him to take Sanzu to the couch which the man nods as he put your drunken husband slowly. Both of you talk for a bit before he bid goodbye to you two while giving an apology for the mess. You looked at the man of your life laying on the couch as you smelled a foreign perfume smell from your husband’s coat.

Those feelings rushed again making your head hurt every time you smelled a different perfume from his coat. It has been more than 4 times you’ve been seeing him slacking and going home with another person's perfume. The feeling you’ve been trying to get it of for more than 5 years but never could. You hate how those people's warnings of marrying him looped inside of your mind. You thought you could bear those feeling as long as he provides you with the wealth he owns since you are only interested in his money, but alas, along the relationship you have been with him grows that forbidden emotion you should never have.

You were nothing but a normal human being who could not resist the emotion flowing in your heart. You led your life to this messed up pit trying to crawl away knowing the dirt is nothing but red soil. Hard as a rock, and when it’s wet it’ll be very hard to crawl up. No were to go waiting for someone to save you from the pit which you know no one dares to step closer to you who now has his last name engraved in you. The sounds of melancholy you have to bear whereas the betrayal you have to overcome from all his affairs. You were just a getaway for him. A bright reason he could tell people why he keep the scoundrel act of his, and you, oh, you. How oblivious you are, chasing a menace man where the red flag could be seen in his eyes. Once you step in there is no turning back. You picked this life as a resort, bear the pain and agony you must.

RETURN — ©Reblogs are highly appreciated.

[love4ab]

readier than ever. [ e.p. ]

elvis x afab!reader

warnings; dom!e. sub!virgin!reader. daddy!kink. spanking. fingering. oral!f&m. edging?. p in v. kinda mean!e.

wc; 2.1k. :0

haven’t posted in a while so i hope u all enjoy babes ! <3

enjoy...

You and Elvis sat across from each other, eating dinner. The night was great; you made Elvis' favorite dinner, wore your hair just the way he likes it, and put on a dress he chose himself. Throughout the whole dinner, there was a thought lingering in your mind that you were almost afraid to ask, not knowing how Elvis would react.

You've been Elvis' little innocent girl since you both met. He was your first kiss, your first boyfriend, the first boy you ever got romantically involved with, as embarrassing as it is, and Elvis loved it. He took pride in teaching you things about sex. He loved the way every time he would shove his cock in your mouth, you would struggle less and less, or the way you could take in three of his fingers without it starting with you hissing in pain.

He didn't know if you were exactly ready, he honestly hadn't thought of taking your virginity any time soon, anyway. He thought he was satisfied enough with just your mouth and hands, but God knows he would burst the moment he inched inside your slick tightness. But you just weren't exactly satisfied with the pump of his fingers and his tongue. So, you decided it was time to voice the thought that's been eating you alive all week.

You pushed your dinner plate away and took a deep breath. "Elvis.." The sound of his name caught his attention as he looked up to face you. "I-I think I'm ready." You said it bluntly, refraining your eyes from nervously glancing away from his stare. knowing he wouldn't take you seriously if you showed you couldn't even keep eye contact.

He frowned, not knowing what you were talking about. The loss of your virginity was not even a thought that ran through his mind. "What are ya' talkin' bout, honey?" He chuckled, placing the fork he had in his hand on the table.

It stayed quiet for a moment as you thought about wether it was a good idea to voice your mind or not, but being the big girl you needed to be, you did it. "Elvis, you know exactly what I'm talking about." You sighed, leaving Elvis still sitting there wondering what the hell you were going on about. "I'm ready to have.. sex." You slightly cringed at the sentence that escaped your mouth, but you still kept that eye contact to show you were being serious.

But, of course, Elvis being, well.. Elvis, he just scoffed. "Sex?" He chuckled and shook his head. "Darlin', I-I-I just don't know wether you know you're asking for." He simply shrugged and snickered.

You felt frustration grow in your needy body as you watched Elvis treat you like you were just a joke. Finally, breaking eye contact, you looked away from him, not being able to stand the look on his face. "Yes, sex, Elvis! I just don't see what's so funny about it!" You raised your voice.

Before Elvis could argue back, you stood up from your seat and marched your way upstairs, leaving Elvis there to think about how funny this was. You stepped into the bedroom and sat down at the end of the bed, with a huff escaping your lips.

You just felt so needy, the heat between your legs grew as you sat there empty with not even a finger to fill you up. "y/n!" The sound of an angry Elvis stomped upstairs to the bedroom. He thought you had damn near lost your mind speaking to him like that. "You've grown some nerve, raising your voice at me and stomping around!" He pushed the door open. You sat there, quietly, with your arms crossed, as he walked over in front of you.

"Well, Elvis! I just need you so bad!" You whined out, just wanting to feel his touch. He scoffed, "So, that gives you a reason to be acting like that?" He fumed.

You simply rolled your eyes and huffed. "Yeah, I think that gives me a great reason." You shrugged.

Now, you knew better than to push Elvis' buttons, but you knew if you showed any fear or nervousness, it would give him a reason to not take you seriously.

Elvis was taken back by your attitude and response. He knew you had an attitude, but he was always quick to put you back in place, and you were always quick and obedient to his orders. One quick glare and "You better watch your mouth!" from Elvis was enough to handle you, but today was quite different and Elvis clearly was not having it.

"I oughta teach you a damn lesson, huh?" He growled before harshly grabbing your wrist and pulling you up as he sat down, and you were immediately thrown over his lap.

You softly gasped, "Elvis!" You whined, trying to pull yourself off of him, but he was quick to hold you down.

He pulled your dress up and pulled your panties off. "Keep still, 'fore ya' give me another damn reason to spank you harsher." He said before laying a hard smack against your bottom. Your body jolted forward from the unexpected impact. Tears welled up in your eyes as you gripped onto Elvis' legs.

He went back to back-spanking your sore bottom. "I'm sorry, daddy!" You whimpered.

Elvis grunted before laughing, hearing how your tone of voice and attitude changed. "Not so big and tough now, huh, little?" He leaned down and whispered in your ear before landing another hard smack on your ass. You shook your head as tears streamed down your flushed cheeks.

"Ya' gonna be my good little girl now?" Elvis continued spanking you, his rings leaving a stronger sting each time his hand landed against your skin.

You whimpered, trying to answer him, but you just nodded your head. Your words getting lost, and choked on gasps and whimpers each time his hand lands on your bottom.

"Don't ignore me, baby." He growled out, spanking you even harder than before. "Daddy!" You hiccuped. "I-I promise I'll be your good girl!" You sobbed.

Finally, he felt semi-satisfied with your answer, and with one more hard spanking of his heavy hand and one more whimper from your mouth, he thought you learned your lesson.

Without saying anything, he stood you up and pushed down on your shoulder. You fell to your knees, and with the sound of your knees falling against the carpeted floor, a smirk grew on Elvis' face, and he stood up.

"Bout damn time you start listening." He grumbled, unbuckling his belt, pulled his pants down, and stepped out of them. His hard cock sprung out, you licked your lips at the sight of him, and he chuckled. "So needy today, aren't ya', honey?" You nodded your head at his words. With wide grin on his face, he lazily pumped his cock and with his other hand he gripped your jaw. "Open up, darlin'. I promise I'll be gentle." You felt tingles rush throughout your body as the slick between your thighs made a sticky mess.

You opened up your mouth, and Elvis immediately shoved his cock into your mouth as you gagged around his length. Your hands reached forward and you caught balance on his thighs. You felt saliva spill out of the corners of your mouth as he mercilessly pulled himself in and out of you. His hand, previously gripping your jaw, made its way onto your hair as he tangled it around his hand.

The grunts and tiny whimpers coming from Elvis made you moan around his length. "Fuck." He panted. He felt himself close to finishing, but he pulled out of your mouth. You looked at him with big doe eyes as he had his head thrown back, catching his breath. "Goddamn, baby." He mumbled.

He looked down at you as you wiped the mess of saliva off your chin. He examined your face for a second before picking you up and tossing you on the bed like you were just some rag doll. You giggled, but it quickly turned into a moan as Elvis shoved two of his fingers inside of you without warning. "Fuck-" You mumbled under your breath, but Elvis heard and quickly smacked your thigh.

"That ain't no way to speak." He sternly said, sending you a glare. "Shit, honey, you're so wet." He nearly moaned out. You shut your eyes and threw your head back as you loudly moaned and whimpered until Elvis suddenly pulled his fingers out.

"daddy!" You whined but quickly got shut up with the two fingers he shoved in your mouth. You tasted yourself on him as you sucked on the fingers he had previously shoved in you.

"I think its time I finally fuck you like the little slut you are." He darkly chuckled in your ear before pulling his fingers out of your mouth and hovering over you. "Y'know I was just gonna leave you here all wet and needy.." His hand reached up and toyed with the strap of your dress, slowly pulling it down. "But I can't be that cruel to my babydoll.." He straddled over you, he had one knee on either side of you, and finally pulled the dress off of you. Your bare breast popped out, and he groaned just at the sight of you. "Shit." He pulled the dress fully off of you, and you laid there fully naked under him.

Your immediate instinct was to cover your breast with your arms but Elvis was quick to pull them away. He pinned down both your wrists with both his hands and leaned down, trailing kisses all over your neck and chest. His lips reached one of your nipples, and he began sucking on it, his teeth grazing over it as you whimpered. "daddy, please." You whined.

Elvis picked his head up and tilted his head. "Ya' gonna keep quiet or should I really leave you here wet and horny all night, huh?" He snickered as you quickly shook your head. "No! i'm sorry!" You apologized, knowing Elvis would keep his word. He just chuckled and went back to sucking and teasing both your nipples. Elvis finally let go of your wrist and slowly kissed his way down to your cunt. He kissed both of your inner thighs before he licked your clit. You moaned and your hand reached for his hair, pushing him down.

"daddy!" You moaned out and he licked and sucked on your clit and entered a finger into you, quickly adding another one as they both easily slipped in and out. He pumped his fingers faster, sucking on your clit, your legs started trembling, and you felt that familiar feeling overcome your body. "daddy, I-I need to-" Before you could finish, Elvis pulled his mouth and fingers off of you. You gasped, "daddy, no! please, I-I have to!" You cried out.

A smirk grew on Elvis' face as he watched you cry and beg for him. "Since ya' want it so damn bad." Elvis grabbed his cock and lined it up with your entrance. He easily slid his tip in, and he groaned. "Fuck- Shit-" He grumbled as he slowly inched himself inside. "It's gonna hurt, baby." He reached a hand up and moved a few pieces of hair out your face. You hissed in pain the more he inched inside. "You good?" He grunted, pausing his movements. You nodded, and a few tears streamed down your face. He kept going until he bottomed out, and you both moaned out. You both breathed heavily, staying still for a moment before Elvis began slowly thrusting his hips. You whimpered at the burning sensation, but it quickly turned into pleasure.

"daddy, you feel so good." You closed your eyes and threw your head back. Your hands gripped tightly on the bed sheets. Elvis grunted and mumbled a bunch of curses as he sped up his movements. You loudly moaned, "daddy!" You cried out. "I-I don't thi-think I-I can last long!" You stuttered between moans.

"It's okay, baby." Elvis panted, feeling himself getting close as well. He felt you squeezing around him, and he let out loud moans. "Cum for me, honey." He moaned out, and with those four words, you came undone. You squeezed around him as you finished. Your mind was feeling fuzzy as you were nearly seeing stars from how intense your orgasm was. Elvis fucked you through your orgasm until he couldn't hold back and pulled out of you, pumping his hands on his cock and swiping his thumb over his tip until his cum came squirting all over your stomach and chest.

He collapsed next to you on the bed as you both caught your breath. "That.. felt so good, Elvis." You panted, turning around to Elvis who was already staring at you with a soft smile. He reached over and placed a kiss on your forehead. "I love ya, little." He whispered. You smiled, "I love you too, baby." You kissed his lips.

[btschooseafic]

Hey you, what’s your dream?

Pairing: platonic!oc x ot7

Details: manager!oc, predebut/idolverse, partial BTS World!verse

Summary: Debut day!

Warnings: This is a fictional story based on real events. The characters presented here are not the same as their real life counterparts. (TW: panic attack, dieting mentions) [Masterlist]

Track 22: Debut!

Started From the Bottom- Drake

“Started from the bottom now we’re here

Started from the bottom now my whole team fuckin’ here.”

Debut Showcase, Gangnam Ilchi Hall-June 12, 2013

“Aviva-yah,” Yoongi called. Aviva looked up with her camera, only to be faced with Yoongi snapping a picture of her with his. He looked down at his camera and grinned. “Looks good.”

Aviva looked him over. “So do you. I really like the skirt.”

Yoongi did a little twirl. “Hip hop!”

“Ah… I’m so nervous, I’m stiff as a board,” Jin muttered.

“Want a massage, hyung?” Jungkook offered. Jin blinked at him.

“Seriously? Yeah, that would be great.” Jin sighed happily as Jungkook massaged his shoulders. Aviva walked over, getting a shot of them. “You’re good at this. How come you don’t do it more often?”

“Cause this is a special occasion,” Jungkook told him. “Don’t get used to it, hyung.”

“…I’ll pay you in food,” Jin offered.

“…I’ll consider it,” Jungkook said. Aviva laughed. They glanced at her.

“Yah, go away, camera-ninja,” Jin said.

The boys preformed Bulletproof Pt. 2, No More Dream, and Like to round it out. In-between changing their outfits, Aviva got a quick word with Yoongi and Hoseok.

“How’s it going out there?” She asked them. Yoongi and Hoseok looked at each other.

“Good~?” Hoseok said.

“Good~” Yoongi agreed. Namjoon stepped up behind them, putting his hands on their shoulders. Hoseok clutched his chest as Yoongi plastered on an overly surprised face.

“What’re you guys doing?” Namjoon asked.

“Talking about how great you guys are,” Aviva told him.

“Yah!” Namjoon flushed. “It’s time to get back on stage!” He pointed his finger in the air. “Let’s go!”

Afterwards, Aviva stood off to the side, watching the boys get interviewed about their first performances.

Yoongi spoke about how they were more authentic than other idol groups doing hip hop. Namjoon spoke about wanting to reach out to teenagers and get them to think about what their dreams were, and wanting to win a Best New Artist Award.

At the end of the night Aviva presented them with a custom-made cake. “Sorry I didn’t bake this one,” she said. “But I saw an ad for this bakery, and I thought it could be cool.”

“It is!” Jimin assured her. “Your cakes are probably the tastiest, but this one is very pretty.” Aviva clenched her fist.

“I’m going to improve my cake decorating skills.”

“Ah, that’s not what I…” Jimin smiled at her determined expression. “Okay, I can’t wait to see what you come up with—shall we eat?”

M!Countdown Debut! June 13th 2013

At their debut M!Countdown stage, Aviva was carrying around her camera again, to get behind the scenes footage.

Joonho and his assistants were working hard to mark sure every item of clothing was perfectly place. Jihye and Eunjung were chatting as they waited for their turn. However, Aviva could see that Eunjung had already gotten to Namjoon earlier this morning with an important addition to his hairstyle.

Aviva laughed, stretching her arm up and tracing the letters RM that had been shaved into the side of his head. “I haven’t seen this yet…”

“What? You don’t like it?” Namjoon said nervously.

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “It’s just… I wonder what you’ll think about this style when you look back at it. Fashion is so changeable…”

“All the more reason to enjoy it now!” Hoseok said, popping up behind them, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and the other around Namjoon’s back.

“You would say that,” Aviva said, flicking the spiky mask.

He laughed. “You really like this thing, huh?” He struck a dramatic pose. “What I do for the sake of art!” She and Namjoon both laughed along with him.

Jungkook and Jimin walked over. Jimin spotted the camera and swerved slightly to sit on a nearby bench.

“I’m going to practice,” Namjoon said, turning towards the wall and taking a few deep breathes before launching into one of his verses. It was the quick one.

Hoseok mimicked him jokingly. Jungkook watched and then did the same. Hoseok laughed.

Namjoon frowned, pointing at Jungkook. “I hate this kid.”

“No, you don’t, Namjoon-ah,” Aviva said easily.

“If you’re gonna copy me, try and do it properly, at least,” he challenged. Hoseok shrugged. Jungkook tried. “Not similar!”

“He can’t do it so well when he’s under the spotlight like that,” Hoseok told Aviva.

“Well, Namjoon-ah does have his own style of rap,” Aviva thought. “You should rap like yourselves, not like him. That’s what makes you all special.”

“Aw.” Hoseok poked her on the cheek. “Cutie, manager-nim.”

“…Can we move on?” Aviva said. “Your audience doesn’t want to hear about me, they want to hear about you.”

Jimin quickly rapped the verse, blushing when they turned to him.

“Ah, sorry,” Jimin said in English for some reason.

“No, it was cool,” Namjoon told him, patting him on the shoulder. “You’re the coolest.”

Readier, the boys loosened up by seeing who could rap the fastest in English. Then Namjoon moved on to walking through their performance. Aviva could see the maknae line’s eyes glazing over as he spoke. Taehyung spotted her and blew her a kiss. Jimin noticed and laughed quietly. He moved over to her.

“Shouldn’t you be listening to your leader?” Aviva teased.

Jimin grinned sheepishly. “Ah, well… I thought maybe our fans could use an update on what we’re doing? That’s who you’re recording this for, right? Our fans?” He thought. Aviva nodded. “Right now we’re in the waiting room.” Jimin pulled at Jungkook’s arm. “Jungkook-ah.” Jungkook turned around and stepped closer to them. “The camera’s on, see?” Jungkook bent down slightly.

“Yah, you don’t have to bend down,” Aviva said. “I’m not that short…” Jungkook laughed. “What will you do next, Jiminie?”

“Next we will…”

“Lose weight!” Jungkook said. Aviva frowned.

“Eh? Why~”

Jungkook laughed. “Stop with the aegyo, noona, you’re too old for that!” He turned back to Namjoon, walking closer over to him to listen.

“…Jungkookie’s a little grumpy today, isn’t he?” Jimin thought.

“Nervous?” Aviva wondered.

“I am,” Jimin admitted.

“I meant Kook... but, yeah, probably everyone is. I mean, I’m nervous and I’m not even performing!”

Jimin grimaced.

“Namjoon-ah, Jungook-ah, have you changed your socks?” One of the assistants asked. The boys broke up to continue getting ready.

“Well… we’re going to lose weight now, I guess,” Jimin said. “Yes, going to lose weight diligently. So I can show you great abs.” He looked down at himself.

“Your abs are already great,” Aviva told him honestly. Hoseok popped up behind Jimin, his plainer mask hanging over his chin.

“What are you doing?” He wondered.

Jimin blinked at him. “What?”

“Jiminie’s giving the fans an update!” Aviva told Hoseok.

“Right now we’re changing into our cool outfits before rehearsal,” Jimin told her and the camera. He wiggled his many ringed fingers at her.

“Bling~Bling~” Hoseok said. He held up his own gloved hand. “It says Bangtan Sonyeondan on it!”

“They are cool gloves,” Aviva agreed. “But you’re interrupting Jiminie.”

“Yeah, don’t interrupt me while I’m speaking to the camera, hyung!” Jimin said. “I get…” He glanced at Aviva and then looked away from her, staring at his feet. “…Shy.” He laughed nervously.

“Why?” Hoseok wondered. “It’s just Avi-yah.”

“It’s fine.” Aviva switched off her camera. “We can take a break.”

“Thanks, noona.” Jimin smiled at her.

“Cookie?” Yoongi offered, holding a small snack bag out to them.

“Ah, no thanks, hyung,” Jimin said. “I’m still dieting, so…”

Yoongi shrugged, holding it out to Aviva.

She took one. “Thanks.”

“You know, your shyness is cute, but you have to get used to the cameras if we’re going to debut now,” Hoseok said to Jimin.

Jimin frowned. “Yeah, well, how do you suggest I do that, Hobi-hyung?”

“Hmm…” Hoseok grinned. “I dare you to flash your abs to the camera.”

“Eh?” Jimin said. “Why?”

“Why?” Aviva agreed.

“Well, he’s going to be doing it on stage all the time now, so it’d be good practice, right?” He figured.

Jimin’s brow furrowed. “He’s got a point.”

“Yes, but the internet is forever,” Aviva reminded him. “If I post this…”

Jimin let out a breath. “Let’s do it.” He gripped the edge of his shirt. “Film me, noona.”

Soon they moved upstairs to the stage for the rehearsal. She got a shot of them moving up the stairs. Jungkook spotted her and waved.

“Ah, manager-noona, when did you get here?”

The other members shot her peace signs as they passed.

They moved straight from the rehearsal into the pre-recording for No More Dream. Aviva watched from the side and then ran around the corner to meet them as they exited the stage.

Aviva filmed them walking off stage, down the hall. The assistants were waiting with tissues to blot at their sweaty faces.

“This leather…” Namjoon muttered, pulling at his shirt, which was sticking to him with sweat. She switched her camera off, letting it hang off her neck. “Honestly.”

“Bend down.” She motioned at him. He did and she carefully dabbed at his face with a tissue, not wanting to ruin the makeup artist’s hard work. “There’s water and towels in the dressing room.”

“Good,” Yoongi said as he passed her. “It’s hot.”

Aviva froze, spotting Jin crying as he stepped off the stage.

“Oppa…” She frowned, noting one of the other cameramen was following him closer to get a shot. She followed them too. “Yah, give him some space.” The camera man hesitated. Aviva flashed her employee ID, and a glare at him. The camera man waved his hand and retreated out of the room. Jin was surrounded by assistants who were wiping his face and fanning him. Jimin and Namjoon were hovering, watching him concernedly. “Hi, Jinie-oppa. It’s okay to cry, you know.”

“But, I’m the oldest," he choked out. "I'm not supposed to..."

“You may be the oldest, but you also have the most sensitive heart,” she thought. “It’s a curse and a blessing.”

“I need to… get ready… for the… performance.”

She frowned at his ragged breathing.

“Seokjin-oppa.” She leaned up, brushing his hair away from his face. “Can you breath with me? Copy my breathing. Come on, slowly in… and out… good job.”

“Sorry,” he muttered, as his breathing settled.

“Hey, it’s a big moment, it makes sense to have big feelings, you don’t need to apologize, okay?”

“Okay.” He smiled slightly. “Guess I’ll say thank you, then.” He bent and kissed her forehead. “Thank you, manager-nim.”

“You two are being very sweet, but you should know, Avi, that he’s crying because his pants kept falling down,” Namjoon teased.

“Yah!” Jin protested, his face turning pink. Namjoon laughed as Jin got him into a headlock and rubbed roughly at his head.

“Ah, watch it—Eunjung-ssi is going to yell at you!”

“Eh? I thought it was because he made a mistake?” Jimin said to Aviva. Jin glared at him. Jimin patted him on the arm. “Don’t cry, hyung, it makes me want to cry too.”

Jin rejoined the others to do their huddle and cheer before they stepped back out onto stage to preform Bulletproof Pt. 2.

Jin waved at her as he passed. Yoongi gave her two thumbs up. Namjoon flashed her a peace sign.

After the performance, Aviva was waiting for them again near the door.

“We did well!” Jin said, hugging her. She laughed.

“Ah, oppa, I’m filming!”

“Our first broadcast recording!” Jin hugged Hoseok.

“First success!” Hoseok did a double fist pump.

“Oh yeah!” Namjoon echoed him as Jin moved on to hug Yoongi. “We’ll do even better on tomorrow’s stage.”

“We will do better tomorrow,” Jin agreed, though he was more subdued than the other two. He smiled weakly. “I have confidence for tomorrow.” Aviva couldn’t find the words. Instead she reached up and brushed his hair out of his face again.

Music Bank, No More Dream Debut!- June 14th 2013

The next day during rehearsal, Yoongi showed off his shirt with his stage name on it to the camera.

“I’m Suga, you see that?”

Aviva nodded. “Otherwise I wouldn’t know who you are.”

“Yah, you brat, it’s for the dry rehearsal,” he said. “You know that.”

Taehyung laughed behind them. Yoongi made a silly face at him. He laughed harder.

Aviva went out into the seats out a couple rows away from the stage to film their rehearsal.

“Yah, noona, don’t you have confidence in me?” Jimin whined after they finished the rehearsal and gathered back in the dressing room. “I know I made a small mistake with the kick, but I promise I’ll practice—and I always get the jump right every time. Every time!”

Aviva was taking a break from filming to charge her camera.

“Hmm? What do you mean?”

“The part when I jump over Hobi, I saw how nervous you got!”

Aviva blushed slightly. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Jiminie, I just… you know I worry.”

“Then don’t watch that part, close your eyes,” Yoongi suggested.

She frowned.

“I can’t do that. I have to support you guys, and get behind the scenes footage, and—“

“Okay, okay.” He waved his hand. “It was just a suggestion.”

She chewed at her lip. “I like the thing with the hat though. It’s cute.”

“I’m not sure cute was what Hobi was aiming for, but I’ll take it!” Jimin said.

Aviva got her camera back in time to film Jimin and Yoongi practicing their dance moves. Taehyung joined them.

“We have to do well,” he told Aviva seriously. “There’s only one chance.” She tilted her head.

“One chance for…?”

He blinked at her. “There’s only, one chance~” He started to sing.

She nodded. “One Shot, B.A.P.”

“Ding, ding, ding—correct!”

Meanwhile, Jungkook trying some of Namjoon’s throat spray.

He coughed. “Are you supposed to drink water with this?”

“Hmmm?” Namjoon looked at him sleepily.

Aviva turned to get shots of the other members. Jin spotted her and waved with the sleeves of his leather jacket, which he was wearing backwards. She laughed.

“Why are you being so cute?”

He pouted at her. “Are you suggesting I’m not usually cute?”

“You’re not usually this shy,” she thought.

“Ah, I did a shy introduction, so I’m still shy now,” he explained.

She nodded. “Well, that’s okay, oppa, I like both the shy and confident versions of you,” she said honestly. He blushed. “Where did Kook go? He was just here...” He laughed.

“Ah, yeah, he’s fallen asleep again.”

Jungkook had almost passed out in his chair.

“Drink,” she ordered him, handing him a water bottle as one of the stagehands fanned him.

“What?” He smiled at her, dazed. “Oh, manager-noona, hi.”

She frowned. “You need to eat something, get your blood sugar up.”

“But I’m on a diet~” Jungkook said. “You can’t make me~”

Aviva sighed. “What about some juice?”

He blinked and nodded. “Yes please.”

“I’ll get it for him,�� Jin offered, pulling his jacket on the right way around now. Aviva glanced over at Jimin, who was still practicing.

“Get one for Jiminie too, please.”

Jin nodded.

“One juice for the maknae and one for the Bagel Man, got it.”

Aviva squinted after him.

“Why is Jiminie a bagel?”

“It’s a combo between baby face and glamorous body,” Jungkook explained. He smiled. “Namjoon-hyung told me I’ll probably be like that someday.” His brow furrowed. “Hmm, where did Namjoon-hyung go?”

“I’ll look for him.”

She found him sitting on a chair in the hallway, his head in his hands. He looked like The Thinker, except even stiffer than stone. She switched off her camera, having a feeling he wouldn’t want the fans seeing him like this.

“Namjoon-ah…” Aviva punched lightly at his back. “You’re so tense. Come on, man.”

He squinted at her.

“If that’s an attempt at a massage, you’re failing.”

“No, I’m just hitting you.”

“Oh. You’re doing great then.”

She sighed, laying her hands flat and smoothing them over his shoulders, kneading at the tense muscles.

He made a bit of a happy noise.

“Better?” She asked in his ear. He jolted and then stiffened again. “Sorry.” She withdrew from him.

“No! I…” He turned, his face red. “It’s fine. That was… nice. Thanks. You, ah, weren’t filming that, were you?”

She shook her head. “I do still need some more footage though.”

“You’ll find it,” Namjoon said confidently. “You’re good at this.”

“You’re so amazing, Syub Syub,” Hoseok was saying to Yoongi back inside the room. “You actually danced.” Yoongi turned, spotting Aviva with the camera.

“I usually don’t show off my dancing,” he explained to any future viewers.

“You’re so cool,” Hobi praised. Yoongi smiled awkwardly. Hoseok turned to Tae. “V-ssi, you should show us too.”

Taehyung blinked. “Show what?”

Hoseok hummed one line of the song. “That part.”

Tae did a confused little head wiggle for the camera.

It was cute, but awkward.

“The truth is, V-ah doesn’t do that part,” Yoongi told the camera.

“Oh?” Hoseok smirked.

Yoongi squeezed Taehyung’s shoulder.

“You don’t need to know that part. It’s not yours.”

Hoseok shot an apologetic look at Tae, who was frowning, and then attacked him with a hug, biting his shoulder for some reason.

“Ah, hyung, you’re not a vampire!” Tae said, laughing.

“You’re so cute I just wanna eat you up!” Hoseok told him. Taehyung ran away from him, hiding behind Aviva.

“Yah, leave Taehyung-ah alone,” Jin said, stopping his neck stretches to glare at Hoseok.

“Are you okay?” Aviva asked Yoongi as Tae leaned on her. “How’s your shoulder?” He frowned at the camera. “Ah, sorry, I can edit that out.”

“Please do. The shoulder’s fine,” he told her. “Right now, I’m a little nervous for the pre-recording. I feel dazed, but I’m keeping myself on my toes.” Hoseok and Jin popped in and out from behind him making faces. Tae flashed a peace sign in front of the camera. Yoongi completely ignored them. “We’ll work hard. Please watch over us.” He smiled, just a tinge of annoyance on his face.

“But you’ve been great in front of the camera,” she told him. “I really appreciate it, since it gives me more material to pick from… but don’t force yourself, okay?”

“I’m not,” he told her.

“Swag!” Namjoon called out as he passed the camera, ready to preform. Aviva tried not to laugh. Yoongi bowed slightly. Hoseok and Jimin flashed peace signs.

Aviva watched from the side, grinning as girls shrieked at Jimin’s abs reveal, and cheered at Jimin’s leap.

“We finished it!” Namjoon said as he came off stage, smiling in relief.

“Ah, that was scary!” Yoongi said, rubbing his chest.

Jungkook pronounced it, “So-so.”

“The end!” Hoseok said, flashing a peace sign at the camera.

“Hi.” Jin waved shyly. “We did well, I think.”

“The end!” Tae said, flashing a peace sign. Aviva laughed.

“Hobi just did that!”

Tae pouted.

In the dressing room, Aviva looked at Jimin.

“Have you been avoiding me?”

“Not you, necessarily…” He eyed the camera and stepped closer, pointing. “That red light scares me the most. It makes me wonder what I should say.”

“Just be yourself,” Aviva told him. “If I record anything you’re uncomfortable with sharing, I can always edit it out. I promise not to post anything you don’t want me to.”

Jimin smiled, stroking the lens like it was the face of his lover.

“You’re a good girl, huh?”

“I won’t be if you keep touching the lens!”

He laughed.

Across the room, Jin was making faces at Aviva, passing his hand over his face, and changing his expression dramatically. A sleepy Taehyung was sitting next to him as he got his makeup fixed, clearly not amused.

“Wow, I’m so nervous,” Jungkook said as they headed back towards the stage for the live broadcast.

“You got this!” Aviva told him.

During the performance, Aviva was out in the audience again, catching shots of the fans cheering, especially when the boys flashed their abs, and got into their dance solos.

Afterwards, the boys made more faces at her as they came off stage. The photographer had disappeared somewhere, so Aviva was put in charge of taking the after-performance group photos for the fans. Tae and Jimin were reaching across the group to hold hands, as Hoseok bit down on Jimin’s head for some reason.

“Hobi!” Aviva called out to him. “Do I need to get you a teething toy?” The boys laughed, including Hoseok.

“Ah, we are born in the year of the dog, after all! Come play with us!” He walked over and grabbed her hand, waving at one of the assistants. “Hi, hi, noona, can you get a picture of us with our manager too?” He patted Aviva on her head, ignoring her protests. “We won’t post it anywhere, so just stay still and let us commemorate this moment. You’re part of it too, you know.”

[dimitrescus-bitch]

Love at First Spear (Kaitlyn x Reader)

You sat down in one of the chairs that had just been set out at the venue. Today was a big day for you. You had been injured pretty badly and had to be out for about a year. You had been a manager here and there, but you hadn’t gotten to wrestle. The time away from WWE had given you time to think. There was a lot that had been on your mind, but you sorted out most of it. You wanted to keep wrestling, you wanted to try and do more in the company, and you couldn’t keep your feelings about Kaitlyn to yourself anymore. 

The two of you had met each other when she was at FCW. You agreed to help out some of the talent there. AJ had been the one to introduce you and despite having been on the WWE roster since you were 18, you didn’t have a lot of friends. You didn’t really feel like you had a lot in common with the other ladies on the roster. Kaitlyn went to NXT, won, and then debuted. The two of you did some live shows at the same time, but she was getting sort of established before the two of you faced off against each other. It was there when you realized your feelings for her. There was something about getting the wind knocked out of you and being pinned to the ground to make a girl realize her feelings about someone. 

“Y/n Y/l/n!” AJ Lee yelled as she saw you. She ran towards you and jumped onto your lap. She held you tightly and pressed a series of kisses to your cheeks. “Oh how happy am I that my love has returned to me!” 

“Hey AJ,” you said and she slid off of your lap as Kaitlyn got closer. AJ was very affectionate with you, but she always toned it down around Kaitlyn. It was the worst kept secret in WWE that you were attracted to women, but Vince had told you that you weren’t allowed to directly say that. “Kaitlyn, you look good.” 

“So do you. Much better than the last time I went to see you,” Kaitlyn said and you hugged her tightly. Her hug hurt a little more than AJ’s, but you knew that she didn’t know how strong she was sometimes. “Are you nervous about tonight?” 

“Not at all,” you answered. It was sort of a lie, you weren’t nervous about the match. You were nervous about what would happen after your match. Kaitlyn seemed a bit nervous as well, but at the same time, she was very confident. You had a handicap match against the Bella Twins, but you were set to win that one. You were glad that you got to come back on a PPV because your match was a no DQ, so you could use weapons to even out the odds a bit. You were sort of seen as the last shred of the attitude era left in the women’s division and so, in the more PG era of WWE, you were seen as a ruthless heel. You didn’t mind it though, even if you had been a babyface in the attitude era when you debuted. 

“Well, well, well,” Nikki Bella said, spooking you. You turned and saw her and her little friend group. AJ tensed up a bit and Kaitlyn wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Are you ready for tonight?” 

“Readier than ever,” you said and Nikki smiled. 

“Good, I’m glad you got to come back,” Nikki said and you nodded. She left after that, knowing where she was and wasn’t welcome. 

“She’d better be careful tonight,” AJ said and you turned around and looked down at your shorter friend. “I don’t think we need a repeat of that show.” 

“We won’t get one,” you promised and AJ sighed. Nikki had been the one to injure you in a match when she slipped and accidentally dropped you wrong on the ringside. You had also been to fault there because you had tried to make it as painless as possible for both of you. You hadn’t been fast enough and taken both the hit and her on top of you. “The only time I’m getting out of the ring is to grab a chair or something.” 

You stayed true to that, only getting out of the ring to get a chair. You were already pretty much winning that match. Brie was out on the announcer’s table after you sent Nikki crashing into her. You softened Nikki up with the chair before you got her into a submission move. She tapped and Kaitlyn and AJ came running to your side. You caught AJ in your arms and held Kaitlyn as close to you as you could. You liked being by their side and you didn’t realize how long you’d been missing Kaitlyn until she was looking at you and smiling. 

“You okay?” Kaitlyn asked once you were backstage. 

“Yeah, of course,” you answered and she put a hand on your back. You leaned into her touch and rested your head on her shoulder. “I just realized how much I missed all this, How much I missed you.” 

“Me?” Kaitlyn asked and you nodded. “Why me?” 

“Because I love you,” you said and Kaitlyn’s jaw dropped. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It was stupid.” 

“You’re stupid,” Kaitlyn said and you felt hurt for a moment. That moment ended as soon as you felt her lips on your cheek. You looked down and blushed, but she tilted your chin up. “How long?” 

“Since you speared me on TV,” you told her. Kaitlyn nodded and smiled at you. 

“Well, that being said. Do you want to go out with me before the Raw tomorrow night?” Kaitlyn asked you. 

“Of course I do,” you said and Kaitlyn leaned in to give you a kiss. 

“Great, I’ll pick you up tomorrow then,” Kaitlyn promised you.

[snarkybluechristian]

Hazbin Hotel: Yandere Alastor x Vaggie Chapter 50

Angel and Cherri continued to sleep that way as evening approached with neither of them shifting from their positions.  Neither of them realized how tired they had been from their collective ordeals and enjoyed the opportunity to sleep comfortably.

Angel and Cherri slept like that until their captors came to check on them.

Doctor Red knocked on the door and called their names, but when he didn’t hear a response, he unlocked the door and swung it open.

When his eyes fell on the sleeping couple, Doctor Red could not hold back his delight.  

“Oh, how adorable!” Doctor Red squealed gleefully.  

Arackniss reached under his arm to grab the cart sitting next to the door and said, “Huh. They must be all tuckered out. Should we leave the food and let them be?”

“No, we cannot let Anthony get into the habit of sleeping his days away,” Doctor Red replied. “That is bad for his recovery.”

“Alright, then,” Arackniss replied, reaching for the light switch.  “Let’s wake them up then.”

“Just a moment,” Doctor Red said, wistfully taking out his phone and snapping photos of his sleeping patients.  “I want to marvel at the magnificent progress being made!”

Arackniss rolled his eyes, flicked on the lights, and said, “Anthony, wake up!  It’s time for dinner!”

Angel and Cherri began stirring at the smell of the food and the light in their eyes as Arackniss pushed the cart of food into the room.  

Cherri rolled off Angel’s stomach and pulled the blanket over her head.

Angel sat up in bed, stretched his arms, and asked, “What time is it?”

“It’s about 6,” Arackniss replied.  “You two have been sleeping all day.”

“Oh, yeah?” Angel said, letting his arms rest by his side.  “Cherri and I must have been really tired.”

“Indeed, you must have been,” Doctor Red replied.  “But now, it’s dinnertime, Anthony.”

“Oooooh!” Cherri squealed, finally bringing her head out from under the covers.  “It’s chow time again, Angie!  If this food is as good as the sandwiches were, we’re in for somethin’ good.”

“Hell yeah, we are!” Angel said, instinctively mirroring her enthusiasm and crawling to the other side of the bed.

Arackniss uncovered the tray of food to uncover the rotisserie chicken with a side of vegetables evenly portioned onto two plates for Angel and Cherri.

“Oh, that smells great,” Cherri said as she grabbed a blanket to cover her lap with, crawled over, and sat next to Angel as she had during lunch.  

Doctor Red picked up glasses and a pitcher of water from under the cart and placed the items on the top of the cart next to the food.

“What?  No wine?” Cherri whined.

“Oh, goodness, no!” Doctor Red exclaimed.  “Anthony’s resolve is not ready to be tested with alcohol.”

Just as Cherri opened her mouth to protest, Angel interjected, “It’s fine, doctor.  We really don’t mind.  Right, honey?”

Angel looked at Cherri with pleading eyes.

Cherri instantly understood and relented, “Yeah, don’t worry about it, doctor.  We can wait for wine until Angel’s good and ready.”

“Very good,” Doctor Red replied gleefully.  “I am truly pleased with all the progress you’ve made today, Anthony.”

“Thanks, doctor,” Angel replied with a warm smile.

“And because you’ve been making so much progress, your father said that you two would be allowed to walk in the garden after dinner.  Isn’t that great?” Doctor Red announced proudly.

“Oh, Doctor Red,” Angel gushed, holding his hands together for the full effect.  “That is great.  Thank you!  Thank you so much!”

Doctor Red and Angel smiled and chattered cheerfully while Arackniss simply observed from the door and said nothing.

Cherri then interrupted to ask, “Can Angel get a change of clothes?  That uniform is so depressing.  He needs something nice to go strolling in.”

Angel looked back at Cherri fearfully.

“Cherri, darling, I don’t know if the good doctor would want that…” Angel said nervously.

“Wait a moment, Anthony,” Doctor Red interrupted.  “You’ve been behaving so well today.  I don’t think new clothes are out of the question if you want them.  Would you like something else to wear?”

“If that’s not too much trouble,” Angel said shyly.  

“It shouldn’t be, Anthony,” Doctor Red replied comfortingly.

“Just let us talk to Dad,” Arackniss finally said.  

Angel flashed a warm smile and said, “Thanks, big brother.”

Arackniss studied Angel with his eyes for a moment before he simply nodded his head and walked away.

“We’ll be back for you two later,” Doctor Red said gleefully.  “Enjoy your meals.”

Then without another words, Doctor Red shut and locked the door again before racing after Arackniss.

“That was a close one,” Angel said with a sigh.  “I didn’t know they’d take your comment that well, Cher.  That scared me half to death.  You can’t make too many requests like that.”

“I didn’t think it was fair for you to have to wear that crappy uniform outside,” Cherri said. “I thought it was a gamble worth taking.”

“And I appreciate it,” Angel said anxiously gripping his arm.  “Just please be careful about doing anything like that.”

“Angie…” Cherri said in concern.

“Cherri, you don’t know them like I do,” Angel said looking at her and beginning to shake nervously.  “If you do something they don’t like, they could do something terrible to ya.  I can’t let that happen, Cher.  I just can’t.”

Cherri climbed over to Angel and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.  She knew just what to do for situations like this.  She held him like that until his panic subsided, and he began taking deep breaths.

Once she was sure he had calmed down, Cherri let go of Angel and said, “It’s okay, Angie. Nothin’ happened this time.  I’m gonna be okay.  And I promise to be more careful in the future.  Alright?”

Angel looked at Cherri and nodded his head with a warm smile.

“Okay,” Cherri said, pepping up a bit more.  “Now, let’s eat this food before it gets any colder.”  

Cherri and Angel turned to the rotisserie chicken and vegetables which were thankfully still warm and ate their fill.

Once they were full, there was another knock on the door.

“Uh, come in,” Angel called back while Cherri hopped off the bed and went into the bathroom.

The door unlocked and opened, and Arackniss came walking in with a new set of clothes in his arms.  It was a pair of navy-blue pants, a white collared shirt, a black tie, black suspenders, a matching navy-blue coat to go with the outfit, a white fedora with a black band, and a black pair of shiny shoes.

“Oh, man,” Angel said with a gentle smile on his face as he reached over the cart and took the set of clothes from Arackniss.  “Are these really my clothes?”

“Yeah,” Arackniss said coolly.  “Do you like ‘em, little brother?”

“Oh, yes,” Angel said, nodding enthusiastically.  “I like them very much.  Thank you, Arackniss.”

Arackniss gave him a searching glance over, gave him a brief smile, and said, “Now, you two change into something presentable and bring yourselves outside when you’re done. Doctor Red and I will be waiting outside in the hallway.”

Arackniss then exited the room and shut the door behind him without locking it.

Angel looked down at the outfit he had given him and smiled.  The outfit didn’t look half bad.  He would’ve worn it without being prompted.  It really reminded him of the old days.

“Hey, Cher!” Angel called to his gal pal.  “Come look at these clothes my brother got me!”

“Just a minute, Angie,” Cherri called back.  “I’m using the bathroom.”

“Okay, hurry up!” Angel replied.  “We gotta get dressed for our garden walk.”

Angel then began getting dressed in the swanky clothes his brother had provided for him.

The toilet flushed, the sink ran, and Cherri came out of the bathroom in time to see Angel dressed to the nines in the new clothes his family had provided for him.

“Tell me, Cherri, my dear,” Angel said, posing dramatically with his blue coat hanging off his shoulder.  “What do you think?”

Cherri flashed her toothy smile and said, “You look sexy.”

“Why, thank ya, babe,” Angel said, making another dramatic pose.  “Now, my brother is waiting for us outside in the hallway with the good doctor, so we better find somethin’ for you, too.”

“Yeah, we wouldn’t wanna keep the bastards waiting,” Cherri said with a chuckle as she walked in front of the wardrobe and began searching through the outfits.  “Let’s see.  What would make your asshole of a brother jealous?”

Angel scoffed and said, “Just pick out whatever you like, babe.  Seeing you with me will make him more than jealous enough already. I’m gonna use the bathroom…”

Angel headed into the bathroom to do his business.  Once he was done, Angel took extra to spruce up his appearance.  He combed his hair, sprayed on cologne, and made sure he looked good without looking too good.  He couldn’t have his family suspecting anything after all.

When Angel was satisfied, he put on his blue coat and left the bathroom to see Cherri dressed in a sleeveless red dress that stopped just above her knees and matching red heels.

“What do ya think, Angie?” Cherri asked, striking a pose of her own.

Angel walked over, took Cherri’s hand in his, gave it a kiss, and said, “I think you look fucking hot.  Now, are you ready to give the ultimate performance for the good doctor and my family?”

“Never readier, Angel,” Cherri said, taking Angel’s arm in hers.  “Let’s go.”

Angel and Cherri then walked out of the room arm-in-arm to meet their captors in the hallway.

[annoyedfanfiction]

obi-wan x fem!Jedi!reader

req @spaceyhufflepuff

You ducked under the approaching bullet, slashing upwards with your lightsaber to strike across the Clone’s stomach. “(Y/N)!” You twisted around, shoving your opponent to the ground and leaping up onto the helmeted heads of his companions to look for the source of the familiar voice. Obi-Wan was running across the sandy plains towards you, Ahsoka close on his heels.  “Coming!” Dodging the grabbing hands of the Clones beneath you, you leapt off again, starting towards the group as they approached. You rolled under several bouts of blaster fire, batting loose bullets away with your lightsaber until you were out of range, and ran directly into Obi-Wan as you swiped away a stray blast.  “Hello there,” he chuckled, lowly, quickly turning you around. “Are you alright?” “Stop flirting, we need to go!” Ahsoka interrupted, as a jet swooped down nearby, clearing the dunes of Clones. The doors opened, and you all rushed into the cargo bay before the Clones could recover enough to fire at you. 

On the jet, you finally let the reality of the situation sink in. Your own men. The troops you’d fought beside, men you’d mourned with, celebrated with, lost and won with. And now you’d lost them. “What’s going on?” you asked, quietly, sinking into your seat. “Why did they attack us?” “We don’t know,” Obi-Wan murmured, pressing a gentle hand through your hair. “But we have to get back to the temple. The 501st is missing and the Temple has sent out a distress call.” You leaned into him, burying your face in his neck as the fading adrenaline began burning through you again.

You nestled yourself beside Obi-Wan in the uncomfortable, hard-backed hospital chairs, resting your head on his shoulders. “She’ll be alright.” You weren’t sure if you were telling him or yourself, as Padmé’s screams rang out around you. “They’ll have a beautiful, bouncing baby and it’ll be fine.” He smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Are you ready to be an aunt, dear?”  “Never readier with you as the uncle, darling,” you laughed, dropping a warm kiss onto his neck. The physician emerged moments later, ushering you both into the room. Padmé’s eyes were drooping, but she smiled, tiredly, at the tiny baby clutched to her chest. Anakin was smiling too, despite the absolute terror and bewilderment in his eyes.  “Like this.” You gently moved his arms so that one hand was cradling the baby’s head, the other supporting her bottom. “Oh, isn’t she gorgeous?” A fine fluff of drying hair swept across the child’s head, dark brown like her mother’s. Your hand returned to Obi-Wan’s, and he squeezed it gently.

“I love you.” The space you had carved out for yourselves on the jet was small, the bench hard despite its rough cushioning, but yours nonetheless. Padmé had offered one of her ships, but it had been ruled too conspicuous to take the larger Queen’s starship, so you had all crammed into a small, unassuming cormorant ship. Padmé, Anakin, and the twins had been granted the only bedroom, and each of the others had chosen their own space. Ahsoka near her Master’s room, and you and Obi-Wan near the cockpit. “I love you too.” He leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss to the back of your neck, where you were spooned against him. His beard prickled across your skin and you suppressed a shiver, turning your face to meet his and settling into a warm kiss. The morning was beginning to break in the ship’s atmospheric controls, the cold, dark lights of night shifting into the artificial golden glow of morning. “We’re all going to be fine on Dantooine,” you continued, as you reluctantly stretched and disentangled yourselves from each other. “The twins will grow up safe and loved, and we can continue to fight the Sith, with our sight on the true threat now.” 

A sleepy Ahsoka stumbled into the room as you each pulled your warmer robes on, against the chill of the ship. Eyes half-open, she wobbled over to you and collapsed in your lap, curling up in a ball. “Good morning, Ashla,” you greeted, as she pressed her cold body into your warmth. “We’re going to make a stop on Mygeeto today to get some supplies before we arrive at Dantooine. We need them and they will not be rejected by the Rebellion. We’ll get you another blanket.” She smiled, sleepily, as you tucked her onto the bench you and Obi-Wan had abandoned, still warm from where you had laid on it, and tucked your blanket around her, and then your robe. As you moved into the cockpit, Obi-Wan was warm beside you, checking the charts and scanners for any sign of danger. “You make a fine mother, love,” he noted, as you settled into the co-pilot’s seat. “The young ones need to be shown more love than the Council advises,” you shrugged, dimming the lights outside the cockpit again so Ahsoka could sleep. “If she lets me show it, I’m not going to turn her away.”

You clasped Obi-Wan’s hand tightly in yours as you all exited your ship on Dantooine. Your other arms was slung easily over Ahsoka’s shoulder, Anakin and Padmé behind you, each holding one of their babies. “My condolences for your loss,” Bail Organa offered, at the head of the group of watching people. “You are welcome here.” “We trust you will make a strong addition to our ranks,” the man beside him stated, calculatingly.  “Commander Erso,” Bail snapped, quietly. You could feel Anakin and Ahsoka bristling at the insinuation. “No, it’s alright,” you said, looking the other man up and down, coldly. “We have children to care for, family to mourn, and training to continue. But I’m sure you’re aware of our reputations. General Obi-Wan, Jedi Master; General Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight; Commander Ahsoka Tano, Padawan; Senator, Queen, and freedom fighter, Padmé Amidala. My name is General (Y/N) (L/N), Jedi Master.” You didn’t offer your hand. “We look forward to working with you, Commander.” You directed your attention to Bail once again, asking if there were rooms you could take to freshen up, and where the supplies you’d picked up from Mygeeto should be taken. The crowd around you was silent, Commander Erso slinking in among them and disappearing.

“Upsetting people already, love?” Obi-Wan teased, pressing close to you, once the two of you were alone in your room.  “Well, I’m not the master negotiator, Kenobi,” you retorted, grinning up at him. “Besides, Erso was out of line.” You lapsed into silence, eyes darkening. “You’d think after losing so much he could give us a moment to process.” You rested your head on his chest, relishing in the feeling of his broad hands running down your hair.  “We’ll get on,” he murmured, though you could see the tears pooling in his eyes. “We still have our little family.” “Bigger now.” Shouting echoed in the hallway, interrupting his response, and you both rushed to the door, hands tight on lightsabers at your sides.  “What’s going on?” Obi-Wan asked, as Ahsoka and Anakin both peered out from their rooms nearby, eyes resting on an approaching group of rebels. “There’s another ship!” one of them yelled, hurrying past you towards the hangar. “That’s a Jedi ship!” Anakin said, as you stumbled into the hangar. “Jedi!” Erso shouted, turning on you. “What have you brought on us?” “We’ll take care of this,” Obi-Wan assured him, calmly, despite the tension in his voice. “If you keep your men out of sight this may not escalate.” Erso narrowed his eyes, but nodded, and ordered his men out, leaving only you four Jedi in the hangar. “All broken the Code you have.” Master Yoda stepped nonchalantly out of the ship, watching your group shrewdly. “Attached you are.” “Would you prefer we were Sith?” Anakin retorted, tucking his lightsaber away. “What good did the Code do us when we were attacked? Slaughtered? Our homes destroyed?” you asked, flatly, folding your arms. “None. My “attachments” – my family – saved my life out there.” Yoda hummed noncommittally. You unflinchingly pressed your hand into Obi-Wan’s, Anakin pulling Ahsoka protectively closer, his arm firm around her shoulders. Yoda took you all in, wordlessly and placidly, not moving from his place on the ramp. “Like Qui-Gon you sound,” he stated, making his way to the doorway of the hangar bay, where Bail Organa now stood. “Senator Organa, a pleasure it is.” “Same to you, Grand Master Jedi,” Bail answered, Erso appearing beside him. “Welcome to Dantooine.”

[weartirondad]

Hell’s Frozen (I’m Getting You Out)

A/N: I’m not even going to try to explain this on here. Check the note on FF.net or ao3 if you’re interested in the story behind this mess. 

nebula, tony & peter, post IW

“Are you ready, Stark?” Captain America’s voice filtered through the intercom. It sounded tinny and far away and ran down Tony’s spine like ice water, making him shudder at the thought of how alone he was.

It wasn’t that he was completely alone, he acknowledged as his gaze grazed his partner swiftly. Half- alien, half- android and full of spite and a blood-curdling thirst for vengeance. If he had to reverse the effects that had randomly eliminated half the universe then Nebula wasn’t the worst to have on his side, not even close.

Maybe it would’ve been nicer if she would joke like he usually did before shit hit the fan, hiding his fear behind a mask of snark. She barely reacted to his jibes, hyper-focused on what lay before them. Which, if he was being honest, was probably a good idea.

So, no, not completely alone.

He would even go as far as to call her something akin to a friend and, without the shadow of a doubt, a trustworthy team mate. She rarely talked but she rarely had to. They were alike in a lot of ways, Tony had realized over the time they had spent together, and so very different in others. There were enough similarities and contrasts to make them work seamlessly as a team.

“I have never been readier for anything in my life,” he responded after a moment, keeping his voice steady and strong through sheer force of will alone. “I’ve been preparing for this for two years.”

It was the truth, too.

It’s been two years.

Two years spent planning and training for this one final fight.

Two years grieving everyone they had lost and building their resolve to get them back.

Two years that seemed surreal and somehow realer than anything he had ever lived through.

Two years that had felt like he was being cut open by the blunt knife that was losing a kid over and over again but that had healed other parts in him with the padding of tiny footsteps and happy cries of ‘Daddy’.

A lot had changed in two years and yet it felt like nothing had changed at all.

He had never really come back from Titan, at least not all parts of him. Not even the most important parts of him had made it back to earth in that clattering, rattling tin can that Starlord had called his ship.

Now he was back here on the planet where everything had been taken from him and he was about to get it all back.

Hell yeah, he was ready!

He let his mask retreat from his face and hissed when the cold air hit his face. His breath was coming out foggy, the cold a stark contrast to how he remembered the planet. As much as it hurt, the dark blue sky that had replaced the orange one he never did stop dreaming about made it easier not to fall back into the panic that was only an inch from the surface at any given time. It was easier to keep a clear head with the air cutting into his skin like a knife. The pain kept him centered.

Nebula was the first to move. She took a step towards where the man, that had called himself her father but had never been more than her tormenter, lay unconscious on the ground. Her stride didn’t waver and her guard never faltered when she kneeled down beside him, pulling the gauntlet off of his cold hands with an unprecedented gentleness.

When they had made the plan, this had been the one variable they hadn’t been sure of. They knew where Thanos would be but they hadn’t had any idea if he was still alive and, if so, how strong he would still be. As it was, this right there was the best case scenario Tony had never counted on. It felt wrong for something so life changing to be so easy.

The moment she had pulled the gauntlet off, she let it drop to the ground with a hiss and it landed on the frozen ground with a loud clong. It was all Tony could do to stare at her burnt hand in shock.

“Are you okay?” he asked her, already moving towards her in a way he did whenever Morgan cried out in pain, but she gave her usual sharp nod and ignored him in favor of smiling down humorlessly at the man that had taken everything from her.

“I’m sorry,” she said after a moment, ignoring the demands for information from the other side of the galaxy in both their ears. Understanding dawned on him before she started talking again and it made his stomach coil in dread but, like hers, his resolve never wavered, if anything he stood up a little straighter.

“I won’t be able to wield the gauntlet,” she explained for everyone they had left back on Earth but her eyes were locked with his, a silent apology that made his throat run dry. She had been so ready to die, to give her life for everyone else and to prove her worth to herself and even that had been taken from her. “The stones won’t accept some machine as their master. It needs to be a living being.”

Tony could hear the screams on the other side. Could hear Rogers even over Thor’s loud hollering, both screaming that there had to be another way.

“Listen, Stark, don’t do anything stupid,” the Captain’s authority bled through every word but it couldn’t cover up Steve Roger’s panic, “We’ll find another way. We’ll do it some other time. We’ll send someone else up there with you.”

“There is no other way, Cap,” he told him gently even as he eyed the piece of metal that might very well be his downfall, “You’re needed on Earth the moment our purple raisin comes back to fight you. All of you need to be there to kill him, otherwise this would have all been for nothing. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

“You might not be able to live at all.” Nebula’s voice cut through everything else and he met her gaze, warmer than anything he had ever seen on her before. “You could die.” There was a humanity bleeding through that she always covered up in fear of it being exploited.

He understood where she was coming from. Not too long ago he had been like this.

He jerked his head in a nod, tears trickling down his cheeks and freezing on his skin before they could hit his goatee. “If it’s my life for half the universe… It’s not even a question,” he told her quietly and even quieter, almost a whisper that he was sure wouldn’t be picked up on comms, he added, “My life for his life. There’s no way I’m not doing this.”

She understood like he knew she would but back in Wakanda Steve was still screaming.

“Stark! You can’t do this! Think of your family. Think of Pepper. Damn it, think of your daughter! You can’t sacrifice yourself. I won’t let you.”

Tony blinked the tears away, the mask coming back up to cover his face the second the nanites sensed his final decision.

(A parent choosing their kid’s life over their own wasn’t really a choice as much as it was a deeply ingrained instinct.)

“It’s not your choice to make, Steve,” he told his teammate and former friend steadily, “And you can be sure I’m going to fight it with everything I’ve got so I can come home to my kids. Both of them. I don’t want to die.” For the first time in his life there was no lie in his words.

“Rhodey,” he addressed his unusually quiet best friend that he knew was listening, “You know what to do should I not make it back.”

The response took nearly minute but it came because Rhodey would always have his back and Tony closed his eyes at the familiar warm in his heart when he heard the voice that had been by his side for most of his life, “I do, Tones. But I’m going to kick your ass six ways from Sunday if you don’t make it back.”

He couldn’t bring his lips to form the ‘I love you’ burning on his tongue but he knew Rhodey knew. He wouldn’t say goodbye. Not yet.

“Be ready,” he told them, his voice strong and sure – a lie, optimism, a flicker of hope maybe? “Give him all you’ve got. I want you to give me a play by play about how you managed to impale the grape head when all this is over. I’m counting on it.”

“We are ready, Stark.” Thor’s voice echoed through his helmet when it was apparent that Steve wouldn’t answer. “As always, it is an honor to be fighting by your side.”

Something in him steeled at the words and the images of other fights they had come out of on top flicked through his head, giving him the power to kneel next to the gauntlet and lift it up.

The moment his gloves touched the weapon, almost all of his armor assembled on his left hand, leaving only the bare minimum to cover the rest of his body. Somehow he knew that it didn’t need as much protection right then.

Somehow it felt like he had been destined to do this.

And it sounded way too cheesy even in his own ears but when he picked up the only instrument in the universe that could control all six infinity stones, it molded around his reinforced hand until it fit him perfectly where it used to fit a guy three times his size.

He was almost inclined to believe in magic when his eyes traveled to the spot where his kid had disintegrated in his arms. The place where he had learned what it meant to lose something so integrally a part of him that the mere thought of going on without it killed him. And then it didn’t – it hadn’t killed him and living had been that much harder.

Two years.                  

Tony had told Steve that he didn’t want to die and he had meant it but if his death meant Peter would come back then he knew he’d die at peace with himself.  There was no cutting the wire for this. No way he would pass up on the opportunity or ever choose differently.

No parent should ever have to outlive their child. He had learned that the hard way and he couldn’t do it one more day. If that made him selfish? Then he would let them call him that. As long as his family was alive, nothing else mattered.

The superhero closed his eyes then, blocking out the big red X that was the place he expected Peter to reappear in and concentrated on the power that surged through his body all at once.

Suddenly he could see everything, all the riddles that the no one had yet been able to answer, the reason why everything was the way it was. The pieces fell together like a puzzle – like they had always been there, only hidden from his view.

He knew and felt everything. Every soul, living or dead, that had ever walked in this galaxy was suddenly a part of him and he understood. It was too much for a mortal like him, he knew that rationally and – a distant part of him felt the pain that was surging from his left hand through his entire body.

The power he possessed in that moment almost brought him to his knees and he lost sight of why he was doing this in the first place. Only for a minute but then Peter was standing in front of him. No. That couldn’t be right, he could swear his eyes were still closed.

Still, Peter was there looking up at him with his big brown eyes alight with unconditional love. Alive?

“Mr. Stark?” he asked and his voice was shaking, he sounded afraid all of the sudden and Tony hated it. Who the hell dared to scare his child like that?

“Daddy?”

His thoughts came to a screeching halt when his little girl appeared next to Peter, holding on to his legs that were still clad in the Spidersuit. And it didn’t make sense. Because Morgan had never gotten to meet her big brother, had never gotten to cling to him or hide behind him when she was scared. Peter had never gotten to lay a protective hand on her head like he was doing now.

They had never –

“You have to let the stones go,” they both said and they were both crying and he knew he was crying, too, felt the tears streaming down his face the same way he felt a flower way back on Earth breaking its way through the ground in need for air. He felt with every ounce of his being how life was being reformed in that moment and he basked in the joy of it but something was still wrong.

His children were still crying.

“Come back to us,” they begged him, now both pulling on the gauntlet that he was now realizing was burning its way through his suit slowly but surely. “Come back,” they demanded with a last tug and then he felt himself tumbling to the ground, his knees scraping over the freezing ground-

Wait. No, that wasn’t right.

He blinked and tried to wrap his mind around the dusty ground lit with the bright orange of a slowly dying sun.

A hand was on his shoulder suddenly and he looked up to find Nebula staring back at him, her eyes more expressive than he had ever seen them. Was she crying? Could androids cry? Why did he feel like he had known the answer to that at some point? Why were they here on this orange planet? Why had he expected it to be frozen?

Before he could utter a single one of his questions, voices were in his ear, screaming. He flinched.

“God dammit, Stark, answer!”

“Tony I swear to fucking god if you sacrificed your stupid –“

“Are you there, Tones?”

“Nebula! What’s the status?”

“Titan.” The word broke through his cracked lips, rolled off his dry tongue and suddenly everything came back and his body felt too light and too heavy all at once. He couldn’t hold it up so he let it drop down.

“Tones!” was the only thing that got through to him then, as well as Nebula’s hand still on his shoulder.

“He’s alive,” she finally said, voice cracking on the two words when her eyes focused on something a little off to his side. “They’re coming back.”

That seemed to be the only incentive that his body needed to scramble over to the place he could find with eyes closed because he had revisited it in his dreams every night. He knew the rocks that were going to cut into his legs and the pit he would stumble into before he even took the first step.

But there was one difference to his dreams.

Where he would usually grasp at thin air, hands coming away covered in dust, his fingers now hit a solid body.

Trembling, cold and bloody. But solid. And alive?

“Peter.”

The name left his lips like a lifeline. It was a plea and a curse and a prayer. He was too afraid to open his eyes, scared of not finding what he needed to see. Scared that if he wouldn’t, he would die again. There was no way he could go through that a second time.

He did, though, and when his eyes found him his heart soared only to then clench painfully.

The boy’s eyes were closed but his face was contorted into a painful grimace. He wasn’t moving, not even a twitch of a muscle to tell him whether or not he was alive. There were no signs of any open wounds when Tony looked him up and down and because of the suit he couldn’t check his breathing. Just –

His mouth twitched.

Tony fell forward, cradling him in his arms, when Peter’s eyes fluttered open and stared up at him and for a moment he just looked at him. His face giving nothing away, as if he was too out of it to form facial expression, as if his muscle memory was still coming back.

“Pete,” Tony whispered again, pulling him up until he was halfway sitting and he could see his eyes moving back and forth – unfocussed all of the sudden – until they came back to rest on him. He opened his mouth and-

Gibberish.

The billionaire superhero couldn’t make out a single word that left the teenager’s lips but he didn’t have to. Peter was alive and he was breathing and he was talking and –

“Mis – Mis’er Stark?”

“Hey buddy,” he whispered through tears because he couldn’t raise his voice over the barely audible volume. He tried to say more but two years of grief were sitting on his chest and they pushed down on it with all their force. All the agony of life without Peter had to leave his body before he could choke out something that resembled an “Okay?” and he just hoped Peter would understand.

Peter who was alive.

Peter who was breathing heavily but he was breathing. Peter who was laying in his arms, eyes wide with shock and something wise and sad in them that Tony wished he would never have to see again. Peter who fell forward, forehead hitting Tony’s shoulder. Peter who, upon contact, started shaking and sobbing in his arms.

He held the boy’s trembling body that seemed so much smaller than a regular teenager right now that reminded him more of the first time he had held his newborn child. The now toddler who was waiting for him at home. And finally he gave into his own need and buried his face in the dirty, sweaty curls in a way he had never done before because they hadn’t been there yet. (His words. He never regretted anything more in his life.)

PeterPeterPeterPeterPeterPeterPeter-

His whole being centered around the boy that was clinging to him, that allowed himself to fall completely apart in his arms. And he cried.

Tony cried for everything he had lost and for everything he just got back. He cried for everything his kid had lost and for every damn thing he would make sure he would get from now on. The tear tracks felt like burn marks, like a tattoo permanently etched into his skin to tell the world of all the loss he had to endure.

But it didn’t matter. His tears didn’t matter. All that mattered was the kid in his arms.

“Pete?” he whispered, trying to call onto the last piece of his soul that wasn’t shattered and that now had two years of parenting practice, “Hey bud. You’re alright, you’re safe. I’ve got you.” Over and over he whispered soft reassurances into his ear until Peter’s sobs had quietened down to heartbreaking sniffles. All the while he was alternating between massaging his scalp and pressing a kiss into his hair. “Shh. It’s okay. I’m here, Pete.”

“Mis’er Stark?” The teenager’s voice was muffled by his shirt and stuttering through hiccups. “I-I wa-as s-so scared. I-I’m so so-sorry. I-“

“Shh. None of that,” he interrupted him gently, hand moving to his neck to hold him even closer, glad when the kid only buried into him more instead of moving way. “None of this is your fault, okay? I know you were scared but I’m here now, okay? We’ll get you home and you’re never going to be alone again. How’s that sound?”

Peter nodded, small hands making a move to curl around Tony’s shirt more firmly, “’S good. Really wanna go home,” he sniffled before Tony felt his eyes flutter close against his neck.

“I’m getting you home, kid.”

A promise, a vow. And the second the words had left his mouth, he felt the kid’s body go limp in his arms because he trusted him to keep him safe. And Tony would. This time he would get to hold on.

[thelanternwielder]

Too Late - Part Six

Author’s Note:

Have you ever felt vicarious pride towards a non-existent person?

I didn’t, until I wrote this part.

Previous Part: >Here<

The Start: >Here<

Edit 2018/02/07: Part Seven: >Here<

Tell me what you think. Feedback is always appreciated.

Breathing. The only thing that could be heard was breathing.

It was constricted, shallow.

Hargrave had woken up in a cold, dark place. He was pinned down by a great force.

It was hard, rough.

He wriggled, gauging what kind of situation he had found himself in.

There was a grinding of stone against stone.

He pushed upwards with his hands. The rock was incredibly heavy.

With a clatter, an opening appeared.

The butler clawed at it, hooking onto the edges.

He heaved himself out.

He crawled from the hole, out of a pile of rubble.

Breathing deeply, he stumbled to his feet. He dusted himself off nonchalantly.

This wasn’t the first time the butler had been buried alive. The Doctor and he have had several of their bases collapse on top of them for many reasons, all involving Team Core-Tech one way or another.

Hargrave scanned his body. Everything still seemed to function.

He put a hand on his chest. The harness for his robot arms was missing.

No wonder it was so difficult to get out, he thought.

He patted himself on the chest.

Are my pockets empty? he puzzled as he felt the flatness.

He rummaged his coat and vest pockets. They were bare.

No Monsunos. No launcher. He was completely defenceless.

He was struck with concern.

He looked up and around.

The area resembled a gargantuan arena, now in ruins. Part of the ceiling had fallen; the night sky peeped through, darkening the already dreary place. The patches of ground that could be seen among the shattered stone was covered in solid dirt; what flora that hung onto dear life here struggled to penetrate the earth.

Hargrave’s shoes crunched on the pebbles and debris as he walked through the wreckage.

What happened? he wondered as he gazed around, feeling foreign.

He came to a huge boulder. He clambered up. He was so used to having his robot arms to do the climbing that it felt bizarre to do it without them.

He got to the top, staying crouched to avoid tumbling down the sides.

A glint of a green glow caught his eye.

At the foot of the boulder, there was a pit. That was the source of the faint light.

He dropped to the front of the boulder, feet first. He slid down on the side of his leg.

He landed with a step. He brushed his pants. He was surprised that they didn’t tear on the jagged rock.

He stepped to the edge of the stone pit and peered into it. At the bottom of the giant cracked bowl was a symbol engraved in the centre: three lines forming a curvy X with a vertical pole through it. Bioluminescent liquid had pooled into it.

Hargrave’s eyes grew. That was the symbol from the monk’s vision.

He quickly backed away from the edge. He didn’t want to fall in.

His nose twitched. He caught a strange smell.

He shielded his nose and mouth with his hands out of repulsion.

Oh God, what is that?!

He turned to where the odour seemed to originate. Fear and morbid curiosity churned within.

“I’m not going to like this, am I?” the butler mumbled as he headed towards the smell.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

Every step closer made the stench more pungent. It stank of something off, something rotten.

It made him a little queasy.

He stopped when it became unbearable. He pinched his nose and surveyed where he ended up.

He was greeted by massive piles of rubble containing stone bricks. Cracks in the ground ran underneath them, illuminating them with a soft emerald light.

He approached one of the piles.

Poking out from underneath the heap were some ghostly white fingers, splayed apart.

They were not moving.

Hargrave slowly seized with horror. His breaths became lighter.

Like a malfunctioning robot, he jolted away.

His eyes met an even more hideous sight. He covered his mouth, wincing with the sickness.

There was a body half covered by boulders. An arm was stretched out, completely limp. The ripped white sleeve that clothed it was stained underneath with darker patches on the end closest to the torso. Wedged underneath the rock was the head. Its eyes were open and lifeless. Strands of long dark hair draped the side of it. One of the cheeks had decayed completely, creating a festering cavity in the face, uncovering the bone and teeth.

Hargrave closed his eyes and turned away. He was close to vomiting.

He uncovered his face and bolted as far away from the corpses as possible.

He ran towards the sky, the seemingly only way out. He needed to escape the death trap he found himself in.

He didn’t want to become another dead body.

He halted when he realised that none of the rubble was remotely high enough to reach the ceiling.

A sense of hopelessness gripped his torso, strangling his lungs. He tried to calm himself down.

Breath in. Breath out. Breath in. Breath out.

It wasn’t working. He was wheezing.

He stepped backwards. He clutched his chest.

Another step back. He could barely catch his breath.

One more step.

He teetered on the edge.

He slipped and plunged backwards into the pit.

GASP!

Blink. Blink. Darkness.

There was no rank smell or rocks.

There was only the warmth of the bed.

Hargrave whispered with all the tension leaving his body, “Oh, thank the Heavens! It was only a bad dream.”

The thing that he wasn’t grateful for was the sudden tingling in his head he felt immediately afterwards.

��                                                 ***************

The sound of whirring blades cut through the serene evening sky. The seaside city below was painted with the hues of the setting sun.

Zooming towards the location were two Cloud Hoppers, one tinted blue and the other the default yellow and black.

Earlier that day, the Commandant Marshall Jon Ace himself received a threatening video message.

It was Dr Klipse. He had Beyal, bound and gagged. The boy would never be seen again unless they surrendered Six.

He said that he would be waiting in Costal City. The time and coordinates encoded into the message indicated that the meeting would be at dusk, in an abandoned warehouse district.

In the tinted Hopper were the remaining members of Team Core-Tech. Chase insisted that they should be the ones to meet the Doctor in person. He didn’t appreciate being buried in the mountains. The group’s Monsunos were the reason that they survived. Dax and Jinja were just as vengeful as Chase, wanting to give their friend a second chance. Bren, not so much, being the cautious one of the group.

In the regular Hopper were Strike Squad and friend. There was a serious atmosphere in the aircraft. Six was on board, sitting at the back of the helicopter. He had convinced the Commandant Marshall that he would be an asset during the mission. He knew Dr Klipse better than anyone else. He could predict what his father would do.

Six wanted to show that he could change, unlike his father.

Alpha pressed a button and spoke into the microphone of the vehicle, “Are you ready?”

Chase’s voice answered with aggressive enthusiasm, “Never been readier in my life!”

“Remember the plan: you attack the front, we go behind.”

“We know. We got this! Over and out.”

The transmission ended. Underneath the two choppers were the derelict buildings. Some used to be warehouses, others were originally offices.

Team Core-Tech made a b-line to the given location. Strike Squad looped around, going much further away.

The azure aircraft landed with a clang. The children inside slipped on their earpieces so that everyone could communicate.

“Hey, Core-Tech. Kick some ass,” they heard Kilo say.

Dax replied with a laugh, “We plan to, mate.”

The door clunked open as the four children departed. It made the same sound as it closed.

The orange rectangles towered over them imposingly as they walked to the destination. The breeze that blew in between them was hushed.

Bren had pulled his tablet out from his satchel. On it was a GPS map, showing the distance to the coordinates.

“We should be getting close,” the boy looked up and around, “but, uh, I don’t see anyone else.”

“You sure it’s not your glasses?” Jinja remarked.

“No, B’s right,” Chase confirmed, “we are the only ones here. I think this is a set up.”

“Or,” Dax suggested smugly, “Mr Big-and-Scary is big scaredy-cat!”

Suddenly, there was a fifth voice that halted the children.

It boomed, “Speak of the Devil and he shall appear.”

A figure slowly swaggered from behind one of the buildings and stopped in front of the team, sunset shadow stretching along the ground. There was a malevolent snicker.

“Team Core-Tech,” it said.

“Klipse,” Chase responded, recognising the voice.

“However did you escape your tombs?” the man questioned with a smile.

Dax stepped forward angrily and yelled, “No thanks to you!”

Bren slipped the tablet into his bag, turning to the side to do it.

He saw something approaching from behind from the corner of his eye.

He looked up, “Oh crag.”

The others glanced behind.

Boxing them in were Drezz and Dom Pyro.

Bren whispered to his group, “He was right. The Doctor isn’t alone.”

Jinja demanded loudly, “Where’s Beyal?”

Drezz sneered, “You don’t have Six, so we won’t give you the monk.”

Dom Pyro giggled with twisted glee, “Oh, instead we’ll give you,” he ripped the cores off his sash, “a battle!”

The children stood in combative positions, back to back.

Dax noted, “Four against three. Odds in our favour, right?”

Chase turned his head to him, “Let’s hope that’s true.”

The children shouted in unison, throwing their cores, “Team Core-Tech! Launch!”

The men simply cackled as they hurtled their cores in response. Flashes of crimson and cobalt sprung above the sun-kissed blocks.

Strike Squad had already landed and stayed in their Hopper, awaiting the signal.

All six of them heard Bren’s frantic voice in their ears.

“We’re fighting Dr Klipse! And Drezz, a-and Don Pyro! Wah!”

The boy was cut off. Alpha nodded to his team.

They burst out of the helicopter and ran in the direction of the coordinates.

Tango stated, “We’ve only got eight minutes.”

X-Ray added, “Nine, if we’re lucky.”

“Nine?” Six asked.

“Yeah. Lock’s so powerful that it can stay out a bit longer,” the boy with glasses explained, “Go figure that Dr Suno gives his son the special Monsuno.”

As they raced around the buildings while the night eclipsed them, they were watched from above.

Tinker spoke into his earpiece, “Doctor, they brought friends. And Six.”

The Doctor’s voice replied, “Then give them a warm welcome.”

A mischievous smirk crept onto the man’s face.

He pitched an orange core, “Vicegrip! Launch!”

Throttle and Ratchet, from their vantage points, saw the small beacon as it spun towards the tail of the team.

“Si!” Throttle slung her core with zeal.

Ratchet was relieved. She was sick of waiting for action. She did the same as her fellow Punk Monks.

Strike Squad and Six were suddenly surrounded by orange mechanical monsters: a tentacled hermit crab, an axolotl with turbines on its back and a dog-deer with iron rods for horns. The S.T.O.R.M. specialists quickly armed themselves.

“Only three of them? Easy-peasy!” Bravo commented confidently.

Six turned to them and began to talk in a low and authoritative tone.

“Alpha, you’re coming with me. The rest of you can deal with this.”

Alpha became defensive, “Who put you in charge?”

He was about to launch his Monsuno, like the rest of the group.

Six grabbed his arm, “Listen to me. We will not find Beyal here. He’s being kept far away from the fighting.”

Sapphire light erupted from Strike Squad’s cores. Their Monsunos emerged with bellows.

Tango looked over to the boys, “I trust him.”

Kilo boasted, “We’ve practically got this in the bag, Red.”

“Alright then,” Alpha said as Six released his arm, “Let’s go.”

The two boys dashed as the blue beasts lunged at the cybernetic creatures.

They disappeared among the shadowed blocks. The screeches of the Monsunos as they clashed became more distant.

“Where do you think he would be?” Alpha quizzed Six.

“In one of the buildings. We just have to find him.”

“How?”

Six smiled, “Don’t you have a wolf Monsuno?”

Alpha glanced at the core in his hand, “Yeah. Tripwire’s part wolf.”

“And it was able to catch Hargrave’s scent, was it not?”

Alpha skidded to a halt, “You think Beyal is with Hargrave?”

Six staggered to a stop and faced him, “Well, think about it. Dr Klipse, Dom Pyro and Drezz are with Team Core-Tech and the Punks Monk are with Strike Squad. That leaves two people: Professor Tallis and Hargrave.”

Alpha interrupted, “And Charlemagne. She’s with them now.”

“The Doctor wouldn’t trust her with anything important. She’s still an enemy,” Six reasoned, “One person would have to mind the ship which leaves the other with Beyal.”

Alpha crossed his arms, still sceptical, “And you think it the butler?”

Six held his hands out, “The Professor panics easily. Hargrave is a robot in comparison. Besides, it’s the latter’s job to be a bodyguard.”

Alpha blinked as Six beamed.

Alpha dropped his arms, “I hope you’re right about this,” he flung his core at a wall, “Tripwire! Launch!”

Ting!

Leaping from the bursting golden light was the black and white wolf with the barbed whips in its tail.

“Tripwire, down,” its controller commanded.

The wolf obeyed, lowering its head. The children climbed on to ride it. It rose again.

“Find Beyal. He’s with the butler, apparently.”

The wolf’s nose wrinkled as it sniffed the air. It turned its head, locking onto a scent.

Alpha quickly grasped the Monsuno’s fur as he jerked backwards. Six chuckled; he was holding on, expecting the sudden movement.

The wolf weaved through the buildings with an excited pant.

Meanwhile, off the coast of the city, the Eklpise Resistance ship bobbed underneath the waves. It was submerged to hide it. The massive airship would have looked incredibly suspect if it were any closer to land.

Professor Tallis and Charlemagne were stuck inside. The Professor wore an earpiece and was watching the radar. He also monitored the communication channels used for the nearby Hoppers that were detected. He was sitting down, resting his head and arms on the terminal. His cane was propped next to him.

Charlemagne was pacing, irritated with the idea of being trapped under the sea.

She stopped suddenly and barked, “Status report.”

The Professor groaned, fatigued by the request, “Y-y-you just asked five m-m-m-minutes ago. It is still the s-s-s-same as before.”

The woman grunted, “I should be out there. I don’t know vhy Emmanuel decided to seal me in this stupid can with you!”

The Professor sat back is his chair and swivelled around to face her.

He fidgeted with his hands together, “I w-w-w-wish I could be out there t-t-too. Perhaps, he b-b-believes that we will i-i-impede him.”

“Bah!” the woman spat dramatically “He doesn’t trust us, Shandler!”

“Well, he did e-e-entrust us with the ship,” the Professor shrugged.

Her snarl lessened, “He did, didn’t he?”

She wandered a bit closer to the man, holding her hands out as she regarded him.

“Vhy don’t ve just leave? Ve can fly away and he can’t do anything.”

The Professor was aghast at the idea, “A-a-and abandon everyone? For shame, C-Charlemagne!”

She growled, clenching her fists and stormed away, jacket sweeping behind her.

Her pacing became more vigorous, “Ve are not doing anything here!”

The Professor spun around, flopped to his original position and muttered, “I am.”

The only sound in the room was of the woman’s marching boots on the floor.

The lethargy of the situation had consumed the Professor. He began to daydream.

He mumbled, believing the thought was still in his head, “I w-w-w-wonder if she k-k-k-knows how beautiful she is.”

Charlemagne’s boots screeched to a standstill.

She glanced at the Professor, “Vhat did you just say?”

Her voice wrenched the Professor back to the present with a shudder.

“D-d-d-d-did I s-s-s-s-say something?” he quietly asked, pop-eyed.

“You did,” she stated sternly, “Vhat vas it?”

“N-n-n-n-n-nothing,” the Professor sank into his arms, trying to hide his red face.

She sighed, “Right,” she began to stroll out of the room, “I’m going for another valk.”

“Okay.”

She left, creating a quiet emptiness in the room.

The Professor finally had space to think. Coyly, he was off with the fairies again.

Above sea level, the skies over the abandoned buildings sounded of the shrieking of Monsunos.

Shrieking and smashing.

Team Core-Tech had taken cover behind a concrete cube, now half broken by the monsters that rampaged. It was bombarded with molten fireballs from Acro.

The winged serpent was yanked from the sky by an avian blur. The ampithere was tossed towards the three-headed cyborg dragon with turbine thighs. The dragon zoomed upwards, letting the snake crash into the rock-hard ground.

Dax heard his Monsuno’s cry. He grinned.

He stuck his head out from the hiding spot, “Yeah! Go Hyper Airswitch!”

Bren turned to him, “Does that mean that we’re not being blasted anymore?”

Dax gave a thumbs-up, “That’s right, matey. We’re safe.”

Jinja pointed in the opposite direction and exclaimed, “Try telling that to them!”

The children jumped as they heard another beast bellow behind them. They faced it and saw that Bronto had found them.

“Run!” Chase shouted.

They dived out of the way as the brontosaurus fired shots from its front legs. The wall they were standing behind shattered in an instant. The children scrambled away.

Around them, their Monsunos were surrounded by enemies. Hyper Charger and Triplex were locked in a fearsome clash, bony frill grinding on antler.

Drezz and his finned lizard Iguano spectated them from a distance.

He directed to his Monsuno, “Fire!”

The dinosaur’s fin shone with vermillion power as it shot at the moose.

The antlered beast was hit by a glob of fire in the face, causing it to flinch. Its head was propelled upwards by the triceratops, rearing. The dinosaur rammed its horns into the moose’s underbelly. The moose wailed.

The polar bear-gorilla Hyper Lock bucked and flailed, attempting to throw the black beast Backslash off its back. The dark bear flipped off and landed with a skid, snarling at the powerful Monsuno.

The Doctor ordered, throwing his hand towards the wolf-bear, “Fearsome Flex!”

Backslash glowed with a crimson aura. Its muscles grew substantially, almost popping from the bone.

It lunged into a grapple with Hyper Lock. The bears struggled, snapping at each other. Backslash was much smaller than its opponent. Even with the bulk up, it was skidding backwards.

The polar bear dug its claws into the black beast’s arms. Backslash glanced at its arms, then at its opponent.

Lock seemed to smile.

Like a ball on a chain, Backslash was spun around by its arms and hurled into the sky.

A long, skeletal whip whacked the polar bear in the back of its head. It turned and glared.

A giant orb of molten lava was hurtling towards it.

It glided out of the way. There was another flaming ball coming towards it.

Hyper Lock breathed its artic breath at it, freezing the lava to the ground.

It roared at the lizard responsible: the sabre-tooted Odon.

The dinosaur spun around, elongating its tail, and slapped the bear across the face with an audible crack.

Racing through the night sky was the dragon Hyper Neo-Quickforce, pursued by the three-headed jet-propelled dragon. The bird beast flipped to face its foe and fired an orb of electricity from its horns.

The cybernetic dragon collided heads-first into the attack and corkscrewed out of control.

The bird dragon mocked its enemy as it watched the cyborg crash.

It looked down.

A green tiger with metallic wings was rocketing towards it, antelope horns aimed for it.

The tiger’s horns landed an uppercut on the dragon with a mighty whack before it could react.

Hyper Neo-Quickforce began to drop to the earth.

Mid-air, it was collected by a catapulted Monsuno. They both plummeted down to the battlefield below with a yowl.

Team Core-Tech were being chased by a certain rabid parasaurolophus. It threw its drill hands at the children, plunging them into the concrete every time it missed.

Bren shouted as the four ran away from the monster, “This was an idiotic idea! Why did we listen to Chase again?!”

“That’s pretty bad if it’s coming from you!” Jinja snarked at the same volume.

“And do you have any better ideas?” the boy retorted.

Chase grabbed another azure core, “I’ve got an idea.”

“Oh no!” Bren replied fearfully.

Chase flung the tiny cylinder at the dinosaur, “Deepsix! Launch!”

With a burst of light, a silver tiger-shark appeared and clawed Sauro’s face. The dinosaur staggered backwards as Deepsix dropped to the ground on all fours.

“Now that’s a plan that I can get behind!” Dax whipped out his core, “Clubber! Launch!”

Another blue light exploded in Sauro’s face.

The dinosaur was wacked by a heavy club with red crystals. The lizard slid back.

A blue quad-horned bull with crimson crystals covering its back and a clubbed tail joined the land shark. It snarled at the dinosaur.

The children heard a maniacal guffaw.

They faced the origin and saw Dom Pyro riding on the back of a stomping Bronto.

“Phalanx Flare!” he called to his Monsuno.

Two long necks suddenly burst from the dinosaur’s body, giving the beast three heads. All three fired at the children.

Clubber leapt in front of them, shielding them with a vermillion forcefield. The shield rattled with the shots.

A flash of blue from behind revealed a butterfly-hawk that soared above the confrontation.

“Skyfall!” Jinja instructed, “Decoy Trap!”

The bird spat white globs. They transformed into clones of it. Soon, the skies above were swarmed by dozens of butterfly-hawks.

Sauro and Bronto cried with confusion, becoming overwhelmed.

Bren’s voice shouted, “Longfang! Fang Barrage!”

A blue beam shot right at Dom’s feet. He yelped, leaping off his shaking Monsuno. He landed with a roll.

An azure cat with crystals for sabre-teeth stood beside Bren, roaring.

Bren spoke into his earpiece, “I hope you guys are having better luck than us!”

Dax added, turning to the side slightly, “They’re wiping the floor with us!”

Bravo replied in a slightly snippy tone, “Yeah, you’d think that we’d have a better time!”

There was a screech from his spear-headed dragon as an explosion struck it. It faltered in the air before rushing towards the robotic deer-dog.

The dog bounced away. The dragon’s face met the club of an ankylosaur. The dragon rebounded upwards.

It was blasted by a tornado breath in a different direction by the axolotl.

Tango calmly stated, “They have more Monsunos than anticipated.”

She dived from supersonic waves intended for her. It originated from an orange mechanical bee. It was tackled by the blue beetle Hyper Ironjaw.

She ran from an exploding wall. The skeletal insect Lithos had charged through it.

X-Ray was hiding underneath a giant, black and white spider with a swollen, multidirectional, Gatling gun thorax.

“This is the reason why I brought an extra Monsuno,” X-Ray remarked.

The spider tanked a flaming beam from Tyrant the dragon. The arachnid responded by raining the lizard in shots from the spikes on its thorax.

The dragon was gunned down by a beam from the organic saucer Skysite.

The hovering Monsuno was then bombarded by bullets from a robotic scorpion’s back cannons.

“Ah, shut up!” Kilo snapped to X-Ray through his earpiece.

His arrow-headed dragon was blocking attacks from the cybernetic hermit crab’s tentacles with its thick arms. The dragon flicked its arms up and bellowed sapphire rings at the monster. The hermit crab was blown away like a tumbleweed.

The dragon was smacked on the back of the head by two boomerang blades. They returned toa cyborg praying mantis.

“How long can you hold out for?” Alpha asked, bobbing with his bounding Monsuno.

Chase responded, “We can buy you a couple of minutes but no more.”

“That’s all we need,” Six said.

“Whatever you’re doing, you better make it qui- !” Chase was interrupted by a bang.

Six smiled. He and Alpha knew that Tripwire was getting close to the scent’s source.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the warehouse district, in an abandoned office floor, Hargrave peered at the silent world below. It seemed far away, being so high up in the building. The window he looked from stretched to the ceiling and floor, covering one wall almost completely.

“I am surprised that you haven’t attempted to run away,” he remarked, turning to the shadowed corner of the wide room.

He regarded Beyal. The boy’s hands and feet were tied with ropes. A third piece was strewn to the side. It was meant to be around his mouth but was taken off when Hargrave realised that the boy wasn’t making any sounds.

Beyal gazed at the butler blankly.

“If you did try,” the man continued the train of thought, “we would both find out what my lasers can do to human skin. They can melt through steel.”

He strolled towards the boy, hands behind his back, shoes clicking on the hardwood floors, “You know that you would have to be the quietest hostage I have ever come across.”

The shoes scratched to a stop in front of the boy.

“Well?” he prompted, “Aren’t you going to say something? A quip of sorts, perhaps a sensationalist statement of how Eklipse Resistance will never get away with this.”

Beyal was still emotionless. Hargrave narrowed his eyes.

There was an edge of annoyance to his voice, “Anything?”

A small smirk crept onto Beyal’s face.

“Alright,” the butler knelt in front of the boy to be at eye level, “Two can play this game.”

His voice became a whisper, “I can save my breath,” a malicious grin spread across his face, “and no one will ever find you.”

Beyal’s smirk disappeared as the butler got up again.

BANG!

The butler jumped at the sudden sound, smile shaken off his face. It came from the door. He rushed to it and carefully opened it to listen.

A Monsuno’s growl echoed into the room. Thumping and footsteps carried upwards.

Hargrave closed the door and informed with his earpiece, “Sir, I have some grave news.”

“What is it?” the Doctor demanded crankily.

“I have been found.”

“Impossible!” the Doctor snarled, “I know exactly where everyone is. Team Core-Tech is with me.”

Another bang came from the door.

Tinker chimed in, “Yeah, and Strike Squad and Six are with us,” he paused for a moment, “Wait a second, there’s only four of them here!”

“WHAT?! YOU’VE LOST TWO OF THEM?!” the butler flinched at the Doctor’s outrage.

Tinker stammered, “T-they must’ve snuck away without us r-realising!”

A gentle knock came from the door.

Hargrave turned to it with a furrowed forehead.

SMASH!

The door flew off its hinges and into the room.

A giant wolf’s head was biting at the wide-eyed butler as he backed away. The wolf rose upwards, taking the door frame and part of the wall with it. Dust billowed into the trembling room, causing its occupants to splutter.

A voice came from the cloud, “Hello Hargrave.”

The butler’s ears pricked at his name. The dust settled.

It was Six and Alpha.

“How very clever of you,” the butler grumbled.

He reported to the Doctor, “I have been discovered by Six and that red-headed boy.”

The S.T.O.R.M. specialist proclaimed, pointing at him, “That’s Alpha to you!”

Hargrave could hear his master seething on the other side.

“You better deal with it,” the Doctor threatened.

The butler replied in a hushed tone, “That is the plan, sir.”

Tripwire suddenly barked. The butler stepped back in start.

Six turned to Alpha, “I’ll help Beyal. You can handle Hargrave.”

He ran over to the monk who was overjoyed to see him. He began to pull at the taut knots, attempting to unravel them.

“Get in here, Tripwire,” Alpha ordered.

The Monsuno pulled the piece of the wall out, threw it away with a mighty boom then entered, glaring at the butler.

The butler’s robot claws twitched in anticipation of the attacks.

“Get him!” Alpha directed towards him.

Tripwire lunged with open jaws. Hargrave slid to the side and struck the Monsuno with his robot arm above the elbow. It squeaked in surprise, jerking off its leg.

Alpha was stunned. The butler was retaliating without a Monsuno.

The wolf snapped at the butler as it pursued him around the room.

It dived towards him, jaws ready to snatch him up.

The butler’s robot claws hooked onto the beast’s mouth and jammed it open.

Alpha was open-mouthed, “You haven’t even spun out…”

Hargrave scolded the boy, “Do you honestly believe that this floor is strong enough to support the weight of two Monsunos?”

Tripwire raised a paw.

Wham!

The butler was thrown to the ground, sliding onto his back.

He scurried from the paw that slammed into where he was. He evaded the slapping and was backed into the window.

A paw swung towards him.

He ducked. The window shattered.

The butler glanced behind and saw the drop. He looked back at the snarling Monsuno.

He was cornered.

Six was struggling to untie the rope.

Beyal looked up at the broken window and saw the butler.

“Do not let him escape!” he alerted his friends, “He still has my Monsuno!”

A grin appeared on Hargrave’s face upon hearing the monk, “That I do.”

Alpha scoffed, “He’s not going anywhere!”

A dark chuckle came from the butler.

Alpha and Six became suspicious.

Hargrave grabbed his harness and stepped backwards.

He dropped from the window.

Six stood up in disbelief. Alpha’s face was awash with confusion. Tripwire blinked.

The soft sound of whizzing blades came from outside.

The butler zoomed upwards.

Six’s and Alpha’s jaws dropped. There was a sense of silent bewilderment in the room.

“He can fly,” Six stated the obvious, still grappling with what he witnessed.

Alpha looked at him, “You didn’t know?”

Six shook his head, becoming guilty, “He never mentioned it.”

He buried the feeling and let resolve take over.

He directed Alpha, “You can help Beyal,” he pulled out a black core and headed towards where the door formally was, “I’m going after him.”

On the roof of the multi-storey building, Hargrave landed with a step. His propellers reverted to robotic claws.

He leaned over the edge and taunted, “You weren’t expecting that, were you?”

SMASH!

The butler almost fell off the building. He turned around and saw that the roof had erupted, leaving a gaping hole in the centre.

The shriek of a Monsuno pierced the sky.

He looked up and saw a sleek four-winged black bird. Its sword-tail shone in the moonlight.

His mocking expression had evaporated, “Touché Six.”

The giant bird dived towards the butler.

He instinctively ducked. The Monsuno whooshed above him like a whirlwind.

He popped up like a meerkat trying to see where the blur went.

It was hurtling towards him, talons pointed at him.

He gasped.

The butler’s robot arms folded in front of his face as he shielded himself, curling his body in.

Whack!

He was flung to the opposite corner of the building. He slammed into the concrete on his back with a skid.

He wearily got up, groaning. Swaying side to side, he saw someone walking towards him.

He backed away, eyes refocusing, “Six.”

He stopped suddenly. He had reached the edge of the building.

He looked over the edge, noticing the vertigo-inducing height, and whimpered “Oh, that is an awfully high drop.”

“You can’t fly away this time,” Six informed, crossing his arms.

The butler glanced at him then at the bird. It had landed. It squawked ferociously.

The Monsuno could pluck the flying butler out of the air before any chance of evasion could occur. He was grounded.

“All of this for a silly little core,” he commented as he pulled the cobalt cylinder from his pocket and examined it.

Six held a hand out, “Give it to me, Hargrave.”

The butler’s eyes flicked back to the boy.

“Fetch.”

He casted the core off the edge of the building out of spite. He didn’t like being bashed into the ground by the giant bird.

Six’s eyes widened at the action.

The boy shouted at his Monsuno, “Blackbullet!”

Electrified by his voice, the bird sprung into the air and swooped after the tiny container. It created a gale with its wings that the butler shielded himself from.

It flew up again, clutching the core in its beak.

It landed with a flutter, dropping the core into Six’s hand. He slipped it into his pocket.

He turned to the butler, “You’re not fighting back. Why?”

The butler shook his head, face filled with worry, ‘Quite frankly, I don’t want to, Six.”

The boy revealed a red core, “Are you sure about that?”

Hargrave froze as he spotted the anger flare in the child’s eyes. It was just like his father’s.

Six held his arm up, aiming at the butler, “Archaic Lock!”

“Wait! Stop!” the butler threw his open hands up, “Surely we can talk?”

The boy gritted his teeth as his grip tightened around his core, “I’m sick of your tricks!”

He raised his arm higher, winding up.

There was a scraping from below. He glanced down and saw a launcher at his feet.

He looked back at the butler with distrust. He knew that the man would try anything to escape.

Hargrave reacted to Six’s expression with sadness. He grabbed the harness of his robot arms.

He pulled them off, over his head. He took a few paces and placed them to the side.

He returned to the corner. He pulled the earpiece out of his ear and put it in his pocket.

Six’s arm began to gradually drop, trying to decipher what the butler’s motivation was.

Hargrave held his hands out, eyes showing a hint of fear, “All I want is to ask you one simple question,” he gulped, “but you can launch that core and kill me, if you wish.”

The rage left Six completely, now replaced with shock. His arm was down by his side.

The boy knew that the man would only risk his life for his master, never just to flee a precarious situation like this.

“What’s the question?” he quietly asked.

The butler’s hands lowered. His voice was soft and solicitous.

“Why don’t you want to come back with us?”

Six’s eyes flickered as he tried to find the right words, sorting through his memories.

He spoke measuredly, “I don’t want to come back because I have been happier in the last two months in detention than I have ever been at home.”

He glanced back to the butler who gave an encouraging look.

The boy continued, “I haven’t felt like that I needed to,” he hesitated, “fight to prove why I should exist. I can just be. And people respect that,” his eyes darted to the side, “I have since realised that the cause of my unhappiness was Father.”

All the boy ever desired was to please his father, but the Doctor never seemed to be satisfied. There was always something wrong.

The Doctor wanted Six to live up to his perfect image. It was impossible.

As a result, the boy had a constant nagging feeling of inadequacy.

“He always could find some way of dragging me down, no matter what,” anger swelled within the boy, “And you always just stood by him and did nothing!”

The words hung heavily in the air, lingering around the butler.

Hargrave sighed, “I know, but there wasn’t much that I could do.”

He gestured to himself with his hands, “I have frequently reminded him that you are human.”

The Doctor had referred to the boy in the same way one would to an animal. In his eyes: the child was just another experiment.

The butler was unable to disconnect from the humanity like his master. It was in his face; he couldn’t ignore it.

He admitted, “And I do feel a degree of responsibility for this whole,” his hands tilted forwards, “thing, for lack of a better word.”

At the time, the man told himself that he would be impersonal towards the boy. He was just a clone.

Then the boy started to help him, voluntarily, with his menial tasks, like cleaning. He wasn’t quite sure of how to react at first; no one else ever assisted him like that.

He began to teach the boy how to perform the jobs. The child was quite cute with his eagerness. His eyes were filled with wonder and that gave the man a feeling of warmth.

For a while, Hargrave didn’t know why he felt like this around Six. He later realised that he had developed a fondness towards the boy.

The butler was filled with shame, knowing that he turned a blind eye to his master who hurt the child.

He folded his hands together as he gazed to the ground, “I’m sorry.”

Tears began to well in Six’s eyes.

“I don’t want an apology from you!” he cried, voice cracking, “I want one from Father!”

The butler looked up at the boy and cautioned, “I am unsure if you will be able to get one from him.”

The boy’s anger dissipated again, leaving despondence in its wake.

There was a silence. The cool breeze chilled the atmosphere on the building.

The quietness was interrupted.

Six heard Alpha hiss in his ear, “Six! Do you have the core yet?”

“Yes,” the boy turned to the side, “I do.”

He put the core in his hand back into his pocket.

“Go,” the butler said solemnly.

Six looked at him one last time.

He shook his head, “I don’t know how you are still happy to work for him.”

He faced his Monsuno. The giant black bird launched into the air with a flap and picked Six up with care. It flew down the hole it entered.

Hargrave walked up to his launcher and collected it, still stuck on the very last sentence Six spoke. He slid it into his vest.

He paused to ponder something he rarely considered: his own feelings. The Doctor had always come first.

The butler pulled out the earpiece from his pocket and regarded it with a dawning realisation.

He wasn’t sure if he was happy.

He frowned, only briefly. He couldn’t let his emotion control him, especially during the execution of a plot.

He placed the earpiece in his ear.

He sprung into the air like a rocket at the sudden shouting.

“HARGRAVE! HARGRAVE! ARE YOU THERE?!”

“D-Doctor!” he replied shakily, “I am here. No need to shout.”

“What the Hell happened to you?!” Tinker questioned crossly.

The butler walked over to his robot arms and grabbed them.

He played dumb, “I’m not quite sure. Were you unable to contact me?”

The Doctor roared, “YES!”

The butler recoiled again. He slipped on the harness for his robot arms.

He continued the act, “Oh my! I hadn’t the foggiest idea.”

He heard the Professor’s unimpressed voice, “C-c-clearly. What do you have to r-r-report?”

“Ah, well,” Hargrave wandered towards hole created by Blackbullet and peered down it, “It’s not good news.”

The Doctor’s voice was low and menacing, “Spit it out.”

The butler braced himself for the reactions, “I regret to inform you that they got away.”

There was a moment of silence on the other ends as the news sunk in.

“What?!” Tinker exclaimed.

“G-g-g-got a-a-away?” the Professor was frightened.

The Doctor said nothing. That scared the butler the most.

A recognisable hiss came from the bottom of the building. Hargrave rushed to the edge of the rooftop.

He caught a glimpse of Alpha, Six and Beyal riding a triple-headed snake as it slithered away.

There finally was a response from the Doctor, “We are leaving. Now.”

“Yes, sir,” the butler replied quietly.

“Onto it, Doctor,” Tinker answered, his voice quavering slightly.

Hargrave gazed along the concrete boxes to the distant fighting. He could see flashes of red and orange rise above the buildings.

They had lost this battle, plan foiled. And yet, the butler didn’t feel the usual disappointment towards the defeat. In fact, he almost felt at ease.

But then the dread of what he would face set in. The Doctor was going to have his hide for this.

He wasn’t looking forward to that. Not at all.

[mrs-jughead-jones]

Seal of Approval || Jughead Jones

Request from anon: Hey can I request a Jughead x reader fic where the reader is a new student who has icey blue eyes and red hair and she's really shy but she really likes jug. Your stuff is really amazing. Thank you in advance you lovely person you <3 <3

Request from @sunshine51879: An Jughead request. The reader is Jason & Cheryl ' s little sister. She is not like them, quiet, shy, loves to read. Dating Jughead, the twins know & approve. Everyone else finds out when Cheryl blasts Reggie for blaming Jug for Jason's death.

A/N: I don’t own the conversation between Jughead and Reggie. That belongs to the “Riverdale” writers.

—————

As you, Y/N Blossom, looked up at the building that was Riverdale High, you couldn’t help but feel nervous. Sure, you were definitely a Blossom with your bright blue eyes and fiery red hair and your older sister basically ran the school. But after your older brother’s death, your parents had pulled you out of your private school in the city and brought you back to Riverdale so they could keep a closer eye on you. They didn’t want to lose two children. You were also very different from your siblings. While Cheryl and Jason were involved in a ton of after school activities and loved to have parties, you were more laid-back and quiet, preferring to read in your spare time. You were a freshman, just a year younger than Cheryl and Jason but you felt like a kindergartner again, going to a brand new, big, bad school.

“Hey, Y/N!” a voice called, making you turn around.

You smiled once you realized who it was.

Jughead Jones, your boyfriend of seven months made his way over to you, giving you a quick peck on the cheek. You blushed and quickly looked around, making sure no one saw the two of you.

“Jughead!” you lightly scolded. “What if someone saw us?”

Jughead smirked.

“What a shame that would be,” he said sarcastically.

You and Jughead met over your spring break earlier that year. You had accidentally walked into him while carrying a milkshake and spilled it all over him. You apologized to him profusely as you tried to clean up his shirt as he continuously reassured you that it was fine. You then offered to buy him whatever he wanted from Pop’s as an apology. Little did you know that would end up being your first date. Laughing and joking with each other over spilt milkshake.

Although you were dating Jughead, not a lot of people knew about it. Your and Jughead’s families were always under scrutiny and you didn’t have to deal with your relationship being under the public eye as well. However, Cheryl knew you were dating the beanie-clad boy. Jason did too, when he was alive. To your surprise, they approved of the Jones boy. Why, you never knew. You decided it was better not to question them on it. Jason would always joke with you that he would murder Jughead if he ever broke your heart. You would always laugh at that.

You didn’t like to joke about that now.

“You ready?” Jughead asked, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You sighed and nodded, looking back towards the school.

“Readier than I’ll ever be.”

…

You managed to get through the majority of the day without any drama going down. But seeing as you were a Blossom, of course you couldn’t escape the drama that went down during your free period.

You were in the student lounge along with Jughead and the rest of the Core Four. The jocks were on the sofa and Cheryl was there as well, occasionally looking over at you to make sure you were alright. The jocks were chatting amongst themselves but you only started paying attention when you heard your brother’s name.

“… let's be honest,” Reggie began. “Isn't it always some spooky, scrawny, pathetic Internet troll, too busy writing his manifestos to get laid? Some smug, moody, serial killer fanboy freak. Like Jughead?”

You quickly turned to Jughead who looked at Reggie with a calm albeit annoyed expression.

“What was it like, Suicide Squad? When you shot Jason? You didn't do stuff to the body, did you? Like after?” he teased.

“It’s called necrophilia, Reggie,” Jughead stated. “Can you spell it?”

Reggie quickly got up.

“Hey, come here, you little—”

“Enough!” Cheryl snapped, stepping in between Jughead and Reggie.

Everyone looked at Cheryl bewildered, wondering why the Blossom girl suddenly cared about Jughead’s wellbeing.

Reggie scoffed.

“Step aside, Cherry Pie, and let me avenge your brother’s murderer,” he said, a smug smile on his face. “It’s not like Jughead’s important to you.”

Cheryl looked like she was about to explode.

“He’s important to Y/N. She’s her boyfriend and she loves him and I’ll be damned if I let you hurt him. Back up.” she snarled.

Everyone’s eyes widened as they looked at you and then Jughead, the two of you now blushing furiously.

“No way,” Reggie said in disbelief. “Your little sister and Norman Bates?”

“I said back up!” Cheryl yelled.

Reggie knew better than to mess with the eldest Blossom girl and held his hands up in surrender, slowly backing out of the student lounge.

Cheryl sighed and turned back to you, and apologetic look on her face.

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N,” Cheryl said as she walked over to you. “I know you and Jughead wanted to keep your relationship a secret and I just—”

“No, Cheryl, it’s okay,” you reassured.

You looked over at Jughead who was smiling and holding out his hand out for you, ready to walk hand-in-hand with you to your next class.

You smiled.

“It’s more than okay.”

—————

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Please send me feedback!

Taglist

@lydixstiles @jughead-from-riverdale @pinkhappypanda @iamthegoatmaster @subsi4123 @deanskitten @latenightbooknerd @lostinpercyseyes @captainelsaeverdeen @itsjaynebird @allineedisconnor @superoriginalteenwolf @sastielstan @1amluke @satanwithstardust @babearchie @theselfishllama @katshrev @juggiesjuliet @betty-coopers-number-one-stan @imperfectanatomy @casismyguardianangel @irrajj @fangites @apocalypticangell @sparklingriverdale @jvghead-jones-iii @onceuponagladerhead @isabellaskyliner @vodkaluh @tegan-eva @murderyoursoul @regenpony @xbobaaa @farmfreshcoldsprouts @hellolittlebigstudent @audreyxhorne @faithmichaluk @thebloodyshuckface @castawayalicia @lost-in-wonderland-x @holoqraphik @nadya0128 @soulception @jughead-archie-imagines @juggys-betty @twizzlersnizzler @riverdale--trash @barbarachern @likesiriusly @thatsavagehufflepuff @multi-madison @mrs-fangirl @thatcraxygirl15 @frobert20 @miss-mia-rae @buckyplease @myblackwings5 @thecrossroad-demon @writing-in-riverdale @jghdjns-iii @johnmurphys-sass @killjoyloki @annoyingsibling @the-local-dreamer-star @stephyra17 @reginaphlanageadams @river-vixns @genderabused @wetsknn

[thoughtsfrommareincognitum]

A wonderful and frightening world.

I’ll begin with a confession: I saw two of the best shows of my life back in 2006, and I don’t remember either of them as well as I’d like to. What I really remember is the feeling that I was at something unique, something that would never happen again. As it turned out, I was right.

The first of the shows was The Fall, one of the two greatest bands to come out of the post-punk movement, a genre as brilliant and short-lived as a firefly.  Post-punk came out of the bright flare of British punk in 1977. The name meant what it said: It came, chronologically, after punk, and that seemed to mean it could be anything—any kind of music, any sound you wanted to make. It meant bands with names like Kleenex and Au Pairs and Cabaret Voltaire. Post-punk was there until, one day or one year, it wasn’t. 

But The Fall—a band that spun entirely around the existence of Mark E. Smith, its lead singer and primary songwriter—never went away. I must have seen a hundred references to them in the imported music magazines I pored over as a teenager before I ever heard them. The references were never like the references to other bands, which ran the gamut from jokey to contemptuous to adoring. The Fall were like some natural landmark that had been standing for eons, and people talked about them as if they were at once utterly awe-inspiring and utterly ordinary. When Mark E. Smith died last month, it felt as strange and wrong as if someone had just said that Niagara Falls had run out of water.

And now here they were in Tucson, after scheduling and cancelling two shows since 2002. I thought I would never get to see them. My friends and I heard them blaring from the sidebar at Hotel Congress and rushed to push our way into the crowd to see them. Smith was cigarette-thin, his face wound in a perpetual unreadable scowl. He bobbed around the stage like a dreidel, not seeming to notice the crowd.

The other people in the band were unknown to us; the lineup of The Fall never held still, with members coming and going at Smith’s whim. A week after the show we heard he’d quarreled with the opening act and fired them from the tour; shortly after that, he’d fired the entire lineup of his band. By all accounts Mark E. Smith was one of the crabbiest and most unpredictable souls on the face of the planet. I didn’t regret not meeting him.

And yet I’ve also heard that Mark E. Smith—MES, everyone called him—was a nice guy, sometimes, capable of extraordinary kindness to random people. He opens the last interview he ever gave by telling the interviewer, whom he knew, how happy he was to be talking to him again, and it feels real. Everything his band ever did feels real, even if all but one of the players changed from album to album. Even the titles of those albums—I Am Kurious, Oranj; Hex Induction Hour; Live at the Witch Trials, The Wonderful and Frightening World of The Fall—are brittle, tetchy, highly suggestive. The repeated chants of “Hey, hey, hey” in “Copped It” haunt me like a voice that followed me out of a dream. 

Their sound was tightly focused around a few elements—a clip-clop beat that reminded you sometimes of a carousel horse going round and round, humming keyboard notes as bright and vivid as kindergarten construction paper colors, and MES himself reciting his strange magical-realist poetry in a voice as flat as concrete. And that was The Fall, for decades and decades, and it is unreal to imagine them gone.

I got to see postpunk’s other greatest band, The Slits, a few months later—at the same venue, oddly enough. The Slits were a band so strange they didn’t seem to be of this Earth. They were, at least at first, a trio of teenage girls who came from the original punk scene—they toured with The Clash before they had quite learned to play their instruments—and their music sounded like no other phenomenon. Their style, which in their first performances came close to being completely atonal noise, had by the time of their first album evolved into something that moved like slowed-down reggae but also stopped and started at random, with squeaks and trills and ghostly moans and other noises you couldn’t quite categorize hissing out of the speakers like those cans of compressed air. And that was what they sounded like when I saw them.

In one of the strangest moments of my life as a writer, I got to briefly interview lead singer Ari Up. I don’t have the tape of the interview anymore—I recorded it on my friend’s phone and couldn’t figure out how to save it—but it was less an “interview” than a rambling conversation that went all over the place, and from which I ended up having to extract a few uncharacteristically normal-sounding quotes for the story I wrote for my university newspaper the next day, which I’m still proud of. It was, actually, a conversation that felt very much like a Slits song.

Ari Up died of cancer in 2010, and I still remember the sense of shock and grief I felt, probably harder than I would have felt otherwise because I had met her. But it wasn’t shock I could share with the world, not like the deaths of Joe Strummer or David Bowie. A few months after that, Poly Styrene of X-Ray Spex—whose 1977 album Germfree Adolescents is as magical and luminous as snow on Christmas Eve—died, and I felt grieved that, for all the world seemed to care, she hadn’t even existed. Even now, when people talk about punk, nobody ever mentions X-Ray Spex. And, for that matter, they rarely mention The Slits. Did they even matter?

They did. Nothing I have heard since underlines the sheer strangeness of existence, the unlikeliness of being alive, so well as these now-ancient records by people who weren’t so much aspiring rock stars as they were aspiring cranks and weirdos—not pursuing success so much as pursuing an impenetrably private vision, and turning themselves into the artists they needed to be in order to express it. It’s no surprise that many of them, once they were done communicating that vision, just disappeared back into private life. What was unique about The Fall was that they never got to the end of their own vision, never exhausted what it had to give them—and us. Had their singer not been mortal, you felt they could have kept on going for centuries.

I thought of all this when Mark E. Smith died last month, of all the music that engulfed my life when I was younger, the bands that meant so much to me. I feel a strange sense of grief that I’ve spent so much of my subsequent life not listening to these bands, not even thinking about them. I never feel guilty for not listening to The Beatles, my favorite band at the age of 14, though I’m always delighted to come back to them—The Beatles, I somehow feel, are doing just fine without me. But these bands feel precious and personal to my world, like a houseplant that will wither if I don’t pay enough attention to it. This sound felt like my sound, waiting to be discovered, when I was in my late teens, and no matter how many other bands I come to like and enjoy throughout my life, no other sound will ever be that sound.

Perhaps you have a band like this—perhaps even just a song. As likely as not, your band is not my band. Even if it is, the songs that move you are probably not the ones that move me—and even if they are, we are probably moved by different things. But it doesn’t matter, because what we feel is really the same. And if I feel braver now after finding my way back to these records, readier to talk back to a world that never stops trying to shut all of us up, I can only hope that the records that mattered like this to you, that promised you your own universe, can do the same for you.