#she was dropped into a safety net and the net was immediately burned

[skoulsons]

i know that helly will fight to hell and back to get Irving back

[boots-with-the-fur-club]

Chapter 3 of These Are Not Our Masks!

@daboyau

@that-0n3-shr00mi3-guy

@iobsesswaytoomuch

@sady-is-secretly-an-alchemist

@dluebirb

Raph and Leo snap back to attention at Draxum’s voice and arrival. He stands in front of a still open and glowing portal and has a look of pure disappointment on his face.

“You were supposed to collect your brothers and eliminate everyone else who stood in your way. Are you disobeying my orders!?”

Mikey holds onto Raph protectively.

“Yes they are! And nobody is going back with you!”

Draxum rolls his eyes.

“I should have made you all have some level of higher intelligence instead of putting it all in the purple one. This is not a situation where any of you have a choice.” His hand glows as he holds it out towards Raph and Leo.

The two of them scream out and hold onto their faces in pain.

Splinter steals one of Leo’s katanas and strikes at Draxum.

“You can not have them!

Draxum dodges.

“You fool, they were mine from the start! Now listen to my commands! Artemis! Atlas!”

Raph and Leo revert to their earlier behavior and go after both Mikey and Donnie.

“S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N! Release the nets!” Donnie commands.

“Here they come!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. shoots them out, getting both brothers caught and put to the floor.

They claw and thrash around which makes it clear the nets will not hold them for long. Another plan is needed, and fast.

“It’s a marvel what you’ve done with your limited resources. I’m sure you’ll make something better than this trash under my command.” Draxum waves his hand again.

Vines shoot up and around Donnie, completely surrounding him. A mask is held by several of them while others grab Donnie’s arms and legs.

The mask is smaller than the others, only being enough to cover his eyes. It’s metallic purple all across. There’s a goggle over one eyehole with two screws next to it’s top and bottom. The other side of the mask has gears and a geometric pattern around the eyehole.

If Donnie wasn’t in so much danger and didn’t know who it was from, he might actually be impressed.

He struggles heavily, also trying to bite the vines.

Splinter turns to help him but gets stopped by Draxum who he continues to fight with. Mikey pulls at the vines as much as he can. Every one he gets rid of has another pop up in its place.

“Donnie! BOOYAKASHA!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. gives out a battle cry and starts mowing down the vines.

Draxum notices while continuing his fight and moves some vines to grab the drone. He tears him to pieces, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N’s head dropping to the floor.

Donnie’s eyes widen as his heart absolutely shatters alongside his robotic son.

“No! S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N! I’m going to turn you into lamb chops, do you hear me Draxum!?”

“Save that attitude for humanity.”

The vines with the mask slams it onto Donnie’s face.

Everything starts falling apart almost immediately afterwards.

Raph and Leo escape their nets, barreling towards Mikey since he’s the only one left without a mask.

Donnie is finally released from the vines.

That proves to be a mistake.

His fingers twitch unnaturally as he types, but he still manages to use his wrist device. Lasers start firing all over the place from different directions.

Leo gets distracted from chasing the lights, Mikey vaguely remembers when they were little and that worked on him.

Raph gets distracted trying to stop Leo from burning himself.

Mikey grabs at Donnie’s hand and attempts to get him to safety.

Donnie doesn’t move any inch.

“Leave me. Don’t go anywhere obvious. Warn April before she gets here. I’m destroying my controls for the tank. Go.”

Mikey tears up and shakes his head.

“No! I’m not-!”

Donnie slaps Mikey across the face, leaving him completely shocked and with scratch marks on his cheek.

“Did I ask you!? Do you know how hard it is to even be talking to you!? Get father and leave! Leave! LEAVE!”

Mikey runs and grabs his father’s hand instead, pulling him along as they run.

“Purple! Red! Blue! No! I will save you from this! I swear!” Splinter insists.

“What are you doing!? You’re letting them get away! Do as I say, Artemis, Apollo, Atlas!” Draxum orders.

Donnie suddenly appears next to him, having moved so fast the sheepman could hardly react in time. The wrist device is grabbed and smashed against his face as hard as possible.

Draxum shouts and reels back in pain.

Donnie tackles him, scratching and biting relentlessly.

“Artemis! Atlas! Get him off me!“

Raph and Leo move back over. Raph wraps both arms around Donnie tightly, lifting him off the ground.

Leo cackles.

It’s unsure if it’s at Draxum or Donnie.

Draxum stands up and glares down at the snapping soft shell.

“How are you able to resist my commands this much?”

Donnie spits at him.

“How should I know why your shoddy work isn’t functional!? I’ll tear you into pieces-“

“Now I remember, you didn’t steal one of my weapons. You aren’t attuned to mystic energy like my other creations. I’ll just have to imbue more of my energy in your mask. A simple solution that will also serve as your punishment.” Draxum places his hand on the mask.

Donnie’s throat hurts from how loud he screams.

Draxum smiles.

Donnie eventually goes limp, head only held up by Draxum’s hand. It falls down when he moves it away.

“Atlas, release him.”

Raph let’s go.

Donnie fails to his knees.

“Apollo, are you ready to be of use now?” Draxum questions.

Donnie lifts his head.

“Yes, Baron Draxum.”

Draxum smiles widely.

“Then it’s time you fulfill your purpose.”

Splinter portaled himself and Mikey into the tank then tossed the katana outside the hatch. It probably has some kind of a tracker, knowing Draxum.

He closes the hatch and gets into the driver’s seat. His heart aches as he knows he’s taking Raph’s place, but he presses the button to open the garage door and speeds the tank out of there.

Mikey silently sobs while sitting in his seat. Donnie might have hurt him, but he was doing it to get him to just listen and go. Maybe if he had just done that Donnie wouldn’t have anything to feel bad about later.

Splinter drives so fast that he barely has time to stop when they see April about to open a manhole.

Mikey very quickly hops out and pulls her in before Splinter speeds off again. He clings to her as much as he can, soaking her shirt with his tears. April squeezes him and decides to ignore the fact that she’s going to need a new shirt.

“What happened? Donnie texted SOS! Why isn’t he here!? Wait, why aren’t Leo and Raph here either!?”

Splinter grips the arms of the chair tightly.

“They’ve all been taken and forced to work under Draxum.”

April’s face pales.

“They’re….no way….Mikey’s the only one left?”

Splinter nods solemnly.

“I’m afraid so. Donatello warned us not to go anywhere obvious. They will look for us at your home. I know somewhere else we can go.”

“And that is?”

“LEMONADE! Todd’s special lemonade for my gue-! Oh no! What happened to you!?” Todd sets the tray with cups and pitcher down on his table and rushes over to Mikey and April.

Mikey sniffles and let’s go of April just to open up his arms to Todd.

Todd whistles and an army of puppies come running to tackle Mikey to the ground. They lick at his face, taking away any tears on it. He moves his head a bit so they don’t lick his scratch.

“Thanks Todd, I really needed this.”

“Of course! Anything for my best friend! But I could help a lot more if I knew what happened!”

Mikey sadly tells the entire story, fully filling everyone present in.

April and Splinter look even more terrified. Neither of them knew exactly how bad it had gotten. Now they’re aware that might be entirely screwed.

“Donnie did that to you….?”

“H-He wouldn’t have done it if he could help it. Even with how hard it was to talk, he wanted me to remember to warn you, April.”

She feels a little choked up that Donnie used some of his last bits of sanity to worry about her. April rejected hanging out with them today in favor of spending some time relaxing with Mayhem. If she had been there, she could have done something.

No, no time to think about that. She’s here now and her pseudo brothers need her.

“We need a plan! We can’t just let Draxum use them like puppets! Splints, what are our options?”

“If this is what I believe it to be….then I am not sure….but I do know where I can get some information. That auction house must have some of my family scrolls since they continue to sell things from my time as Lou Jitsu.”

“Then we go looking! There’s no time to waste!”

“Y-Yeah, let’s go!” Mikey tries to sit up.

April gently pushes him back into the puppy pile.

“Sorry buddy. It’s better for you to be here where they won’t find you. Todd will protect you, right Todd?”

Todd rips off his shirt and shows off a surprisingly good physique.

“Nothing will get to my pal while I’m here!”

“Okay, I wasn’t expecting all that, but my point is proven.”

“But I want to help! Leo and Donnie….they both made sure I wasn’t taken….I have to repay the favor by helping fix them!” Mikey whines.

Splinter kneels down next to him and strokes his non hurt cheek.

“My son, you can repay the favor by staying safe like they wanted. If Draxum gets you as well, it’s truly over.”

Mikey leans into his dad’s hand and sighs.

“Okay….I’ll stay. Both of you be extra careful!”

“You’ve got it. We’ll be back!” April heads into the tank again.

Splinter kisses Mikey’s forehead and follows after her. The tank speeds off quickly.

Mikey sighs.

“Don’t be sad, friend. Let me get you patched up, then you can have some lemonade and we can cook together and play with the puppies! Doesn’t that sound fun?” Todd holds out his hand.

Mikey takes it, smiling softly.

“Yeah….it does. It would just be a lot more fun with my brothers.”

Todd helps him up and leads him to the first aid area of the puppy park.

“You can always come back with them after they’re okay again!”

“You’re right. And they will be okay again!”

“That’s the spirit! Do you want a Dalmatian or Golden Retriever bandaid?”

“Dalmatian please.”

April sits in Donnie’s seat as Splinter once again drives the tank.

“So….you said reaching out to them helps a little?”

“Not enough, but yes. Perhaps if they could stay away from Draxum for longer. It wouldn’t be an easy task.”

April thinks for a second.

“If Draxum wants the guys to rule the world for him or something, Donnie would need more parts. He also can’t work fast if he’s distracted so any place he goes to has to be somewhere he can be alone. I bet he’d go to the Purple Dragon’s lair!”

“Please do not tell me that you want to try to find him there. You have seen what happened to Orange, and he told us what Red did to Blue. They aren’t themselves. He won’t forgive himself if he hurts you either.”

“I won’t give him the chance! Besides, I’ve known the guys for years. They’ve got weaknesses even they don’t know about but I do. If anyone is going to get Donnie back, it’s me.”

Splinter sighs.

“Then you want to split up?”

“Yeah! You drop me off and go head to the auction house. I’ll calm Donnie down enough for you to use whatever you find, then he can help us get the other guys back!”

“You’re sure about this?”

“Of course I am. You know I’d do anything for them.”

“Then let’s save our boys.”

After getting the address from April, Splinter changes course to the hideout.

He hopes he doesn’t regret it.

[gaybae1021]

as a katelyn fan I must ask what are you’re plans for her in your diaries rewrite?

Thank you for the ask!

I’ll save most of her backstory for another time, and keep it mostly to her actual role in the story.

Context: The Jury is a lot more of a “hostage mercenary” situation. Plenty of them are willing to do the dirty work for the status and money, but for the “softer” members, O’Khasis has ways of keeping them in line.

Context: Teony is the Golden Heart instead of Jeffory.

Context: Katelyn and her brothers are half-elves on their mother’s side.

Season 1- Katelyn starts off very similar to canon, arriving to Phoenix Drop as a member of the Jury. S1 largely focuses on the tensions between O’Khasis and Phoenix Drop, and Katelyn showing up is a big raising of the stakes. Despite her intimidating appearance and demeanor, she acts amicable, and doesn’t seem in a rush to bring Garroth home. Even if she’s obviously been sent there as a show of force, she does a lot to ingratiate herself to the village and Aphra. So when Katelyn “reveals” herself to be a double agent, Aphra believes her. Katelyn gets Aph to come with her to O’Khasis under the guise of gathering intel. Their stealth mission is easy (almost too easy) because of course Katelyn is actually leading her into a trap (oh man, a double betrayal). Katelyn is just about to kill her when she finds Teony’s spear. Shaken by this, she rushes to Teony’s home, finding it burned to the ground. Katelyn, previously acting calm cool and collected, attacks the nearest O’Khasis guards she sees (triple betrayal!) and is apprehended and arrested. Aphra, despite being thoroughly confused about Katelyn’s intentions, breaks her out of prison, and after some prying, gets Katelyn to talk, learning of Katelyn’s plan to kill her, her situation in the jury, and her relationship to Teony.

Katelyn manages to get a message to her family to flee O’Khasis, now that she’s a traitor. She’s grateful to Aph for freeing her, and shares O’Khasis’s plans to invade Phoenix Drop. She’s sure Aphra wouldn’t want her in Phoenix Drop, but knowing what Katelyn has gone through and seeing she has nowhere else to go, Aph offers her a place in the village. Katelyn agrees, and promises to help her prepare the village for invasion as best she can.

Once in PD, Katelyn finds herself ill-equipped to domestic life, and almost immediately joins the guards, despite their suspicion of her. She holds true to her word, teaching the guards how to combat O’Khasis battle strategy and playing a key role in the battle. Despite earning back the trust of Phoenix Drop, Katelyn is still considering moving on. That is, until the Irene Dimension.

Season 2- After the timeskip, Katelyn’s first mission is finding her family. With her MIA for ten years, she figures it’s safe to see them again. There’s some trial and error but her Aph and Laurance eventually find them. Here Aph and Laurance finally see her walls come down around her family. Katelyn is torn between staying with her family and going back to Phoenix Drop. But Aph and Laurance put aside everything to come with her and help her family, and with Garroth gone and everything destabilized she feels it’s her duty to fill his role as best she can. So throughout season 2, she’s the group heavy hitter in combat and their rock emotionally. Unlike the others she wasn’t particularly close to Garroth, and honestly her jumping forward ten years probably was a net positive for her, considering she likely would’ve been hunted down by O’Khasis otherwise. So in regards to all the dimension nonsense, she’s actually doing alright, comparatively. But that doesn’t mean she’s doing alright overall.

Katelyn got severe PTSD during her time in the jury, basically cutting off her emotions completely in order to keep doing her job. She refused to open up to her family about it. She had accepted the position to support them financially, and she wouldn’t risk their safety or burden them with her problems. The only person that could get through to her was Teony. She initially tried to intimidate Katelyn into quitting, but once she learned Katelyn was already in too deep she switched to helping Katelyn through it as best she could. There were definitely feelings on both sides, but obviously teaming up on constant murder missions isn’t really conducive to healthy romance. The trauma bonding and codependency is real for those two. Teony dying affects Katelyn deeply, it was essentially her only support system being ripped away from her in the worst way possible. Her complicated feelings about Teony haunt her for the rest of the series.

I’ll admit my brain has completely scrambled the events of season 2. I remember key moments but who was there and when they happened are all gone, and I’m not rewatching to get it right. So I’m putting stuff in order in the way it makes most sense for the character arcs. So for Katelyn it’s:

Meeting Travis- Katelyn in her “I’m cool and everything’s fine” mode. Largely things play out as canon, including losing Dimitri and Naoko and Travis killing imp Teony. First hint to the audience that Katelyn isn’t nearly as over things as she said she was. After this her role on the island in largely related to Travis’s crush on her, which eventually culminates to Travis confessing as they sail out and Katelyn giving a “Im flattered but I’m twice your age and gay soooo no.” Aph tries to get her to open up more about Teony but Katelyn deflects.

Ivy fight- Wow, maybe Katelyn isn’t okay actually. Ivy basically insults her for having a moral compass and goads her into a fight by sharing details of and mocking Teony’s death. The fight initially goes well for Katelyn, but unfortunately Ivy is able to wound her, and like her title suggests, Venom Scythe is packing some serious toxins. And no Irene healing powers in my version.

Elf arc- Im going to keep this brief as I’ll probably go into this stuff more with a dedicated elf post, but the only way Katelyn even has a shot at surviving is being taken to Yggdrasil, and even with elven healing she doesn’t escape the fight unscathed (I have drawn the results in one of my posted pieces, if anyone feels like a scavenger hunt, just note it’s a piece with her new design). During her healing process, Katelyn finally unpacks things with Zoey’s help. Her childhood, her actions in the jury, her relationship with Teony, and her relationship with her new team. She recognizes how much her violent actions in the Jury hurt others and herself, so maybe being unable to fight will be better for everyone. At the same time she’s defined herself all her life by the ability to fight, and now she might never be as strong again. She’s afraid that if she’s not useful, Aphra and Laurance won’t need her anymore.

Zoey assures Katelyn that the team cares about her for her, not any of her abilities. And that violence is a tool, not something inherently evil or corruptive. What matters is what goal ones violence goes towards, and Zoey points out that Katelyn has always fought to defend her family and friends, which is admirable. At the same time, it’s a heavy burden to carry, and Katelyn needs to trust her team to also defend her, especially during this new learning period.

The wolf tribe- I think Katelyn meeting Abby after her therapy arc works best. She’s found a healthier relationship with her past, and now Abby represents her hope for the future.

Season 3- I haven’t fleshed out season 3 much, but I know Katelyn and Nicole will get together sometime during.

I think the symbolism has made it pretty obvious, but the ultimate plan is that Katelyn will eventually wield Menphia’s relic (The Warrior, instead of The Fury) likely getting it from a rematch with Ivy now that she has the power of therapy on her side. Garroth and her are both incredibly strong fighters, but where Garroth’s abilities are defensive Katelyn’s are for raw damage dealing and increased options during battle.

I’ve never liked the saying “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” I much prefer “The fact that you’ve been through so much and you’re still fighting is a testament to your inner strength” and I that describes the core of Katelyn’s character. She’s the one who will never give in, who will fight for as long as it takes.

A song I’ve had on that always makes me think of her

[frankenjoly]

Show you what I got

bramcraft + 12 | gaddaar (blodywood)

Untamed, hate the player and the game

Burn it down and build it up, but never do this shit the same

“Sooo…” Aya said, climbing and swinging between Howard’s tentacles as if he was some sort of amusement park’s attraction; she had asked for it, and he complied with no problem. “Whatcha think?”

“Hm.” Bram, meanwhile, stared at both of them from a nearby bench with earphones on and still listening to the final notes of a song Aya had chosen before devoting herself to the game. He had adjusted the volume, now he knew how, so he would be able to listen and keep having a conversation. “Interesting, for sure.” And that was no empty compliment. “How did you discover these?”

“A warrior of justice gotta have proper tunes for carrying out her duty!” Was Aya’s response, looking as proud as one could be. Besides, it seemed pretty much legit to him.

“Does that mean you have some sort of list?” Howard asked, effectively ‘stealing’ the question from Bram. Not like he minded, though.

“Obvi!!! I have ‘em apl–” At that moment, Aya performed what seemed like a somersault or something similar, accidentally slipping on the process.

Of course, he dashed forward fast as lighting even when that meant dropping the earphones… to (thank goodness) find out Lovecraft had been even faster and had mimicked a safety net to catch the girl with. With an expression of utmost relief, Bram allowed himself to relax and left an immediate kiss over his lover’s cheek in thankfulness. And, when he lowered his gaze to stare at Aya, she was smiling very confidently.

“Heh, knew he’d catch me. So I wasn’t afraid.”

(Also on ao3.)

[existentialmagazine]

Review: myah’s soft new single ‘flames’ embodies light indie-pop intimacy while reflecting on an avoidant partner

With the last year filled with an assortment of multi-faceted singles, the upcomer myah has been busy dropping hit after hit, consuming audiences with her sound that’s always dancing between something new and something familiar. Between the playful pop of ‘notice you’ and the tenderness of ‘i’ll be your light’, myah has it all. Now she’s once again here to capture your attention with something different but perfectly myah, gliding in the more soft journey of her new single ‘flames’.

Everything about this new experience is heartfelt and stripped-down, rising around you in a haze of sound that’s dreamy in the same sense of awaking from a dream that felt like home, realising reality is colder and harsher than the safety net you were temporarily in. This gentle atmosphere is built through thudding drum beats, vibrant synth keys and guitar strums, an easy-going palette that’s warm and hushed, allowing myah’s tender vocals to take the lead with their sincere reflections on a struggling relationship: ‘now we’re in a mess, we’re tumbling.’ The rosey love she bears for them is clear, but the yearning for something to be better is jus as clear too, a complex exploration of confused feelings while dating someone who has an avoidant attachment style.

As the pre-chorus progressively adds more elements like bright chimes and a new booming drum beat, you can feel the tone shift further from the opening’s more loved-up bundle towards a slower reflection on late at night thoughts, with myah looking deeper asking questions like ‘will we survive?’ This isn’t the only sombre thing she asks though, as she continues ‘will we ignite?’ to truly enforce that she has her doubts about where things are going, flicking between their possible outcomes and falling mostly on the reality that they’ll burn up and fizzle out.

As the chorus itself sets alight with echoey backing vocals and distant voices, scattered electronic beats, whirring guitar plucks and synth cascades, you can feel the utterly mesmerising concoction grow into a high that’s filled with uncertain emotions. With myah singing ‘I feel the flames are burning, I’m tryna stop the bleeding’ , her immediate damage-control can’t seem to fix something falling apart, yearning to fix someone when perhaps the dark thoughts are just too great. As her partner convinced themselves that they weren’t worthy of love, there’s nothing that can be done to bring them back, watching as they grow further into a stranger even right beside her. It’s poignant and melancholic, but myah’s indie-pop laced sound keeps an overall edge of beauty and growth, like a blooming garden there for your respite after making it through some of the darkest days.

Keep listening to ‘flames’ here, you won’t regret it.

Written by: Tatiana Whybrow

Photo Credits: Unknown

// This coverage was supported and created via Musosoup, #SustainableCurator.

[the-chicken-or-the-banana]

i had an idea i would love to see from your perspective (you're so good at andreil oh my god) if you wanted to write some stuff about it? i always wondered how andrew reacted when he first found neil missing after the binghampton game (starts pg 235 in the king's men). thoughts? (-- the ttyl blog <3)

omg i literally finished re-reading that scene before seeing your ask skjflsj ~ i hope you like this ! (i'm just realizing that i barely followed ur request and just rambled a lot but that's FINE 😬)

read it on ao3 here :)

«««———»»»

Andrew walked in line to the bus with the rest of the Foxes, mind going a million miles an hour behind his impassive expression. 

"Thank you," Neil had said, eyes truer than Andrew had ever seen them. "You were amazing."

Andrew wasn't such a fool for Neil Josten that he couldn't figure out there was something more happening under the surface, something bigger than just an Exy shutout, that he wasn't telling anyone. Something forcing truth out of him.

Neil looked scared.

Apparently, no one else received the memo, because behind him, Matt Boyd kept kicking at Andrew's heels and Andrew could nearly see the nosy smile on Reynold's face. Boyd's voice was drowned out by the cacophony of both jeers and shouts of approval coming from all around them, but he had no doubts that Boyd was fishing for information surrounding his and Neil's "not this" to settle a bet of some sort.

Andrew didn't really care. He was more focused on leaving Binghamton, getting some answers out of Neil, and then kissing him senseless.

Of course, Andrew had no plans to tell Neil of that last item on the list, but he was sure he (and everyone else, apparently) knew anyway.

Maybe not Nicky, though. For all his cousin boasted about having an "incredible gaydar," he tended to be a bit clueless about Andrew.

Andrew's eyes were unfocused, gazing at the bounce of Neil's red curls while his thoughts wandered around nothing at all.

Nothing? his mind mused unhelpfully. Or Neil? Or is that one in the same now?

Shut up, he huffed internally. I hate him.

Lost in his head, it was only until he heard a pained curse from Aaron that he jerked straight and saw the world burning around him.

«««———»»»

Andrew's vision went red. 

He nearly would have broken out of line and straight into the tidal wave of rioters had he not noticed the police trying to push back the crowd. He had never trusted the pigs, but Andrew supposed he could let them handle the mess until he'd gotten a chance to check on Aaron at the bus.

He had nearly fooled himself with that thought when an ice cooler sailed through the air and missed Danielle's face by an inch. An enraged shout came from Andrew's right, and he could feel the familiar heat of adrenaline in his stomach that always came when he and Renee sparred.

There was going to be a fight.

No sooner than he had that thought, the crowd around him exploded into madness, nearly running the Foxes over. Andrew may have been ready to throw some punches, but he was not at all prepared for the onslaught of unfamiliar bodies piling on him. Moving around him. Touching him. 

Andrew couldn't breathe.

He lost sight of Neil's head in the mess, hoping one of the security guards would bring Neil to safety while Andrew tried to ground himself. What had Bee taught him? 

What is your name? Andrew Minyard.

How old are you? 20 years old.

What is upsetting you? Hands. Everywhere.

Can you do something about it? Yes. I can move now.

He felt the glancing blow of someone's elbow on his face, nearly hitting his eye. It was sure to bruise later, but for now, the sharp pain mixed with Bee's words were enough to shake Andrew out of his stupor.

He ducked to the left, neatly missing a thrown shoe and was grateful to his limited stature for once. He kept an eye out for a flash of red, the glint of blue eyes, but seeing that Neil was nearly as short as Andrew himself, the effort was futile.

He'll be fine, Andrew thought. Find Nicky, Aaron, and Kevin, and get to the bus.

To his surprise (or maybe not), Andrew found Reynolds trading fierce blows with someone twice her size, Renee at her back. He caught Renee's glance and she gave him a firm nod of reassurance.

He nodded back, already swiveling to find the rest of his group. 

After a few minutes, he spotted Nicky and Kevin huddled together, slowly moving to the edge of the crowd. He caught up and grabbed Nicky's wrist, who jerked away and reared his hand back for a punch before realizing it was Andrew.

Despite it all, Andrew felt a thrum of satisfaction. A few years ago, Nicky had let people beat him down over and over again. At least now he was learning to fight back.

"Oh thank god," Nicky cried, catching Kevin's attention, before his eyes widened. He reached out, remembering himself at the last second. "Andrew... your face, what happened?"

Andrew shrugged. He'd been through worse. 

Nicky looked like he wanted to say something, but Kevin cursed loudly and began pushing out of the sea of bodies with renowned vigor.

"It's getting more violent and more people are joining," Kevin said, voice strained. "We need to get out and regroup at the bus."

"Aaron?" Andrew asked. Nicky glanced around a few moments before pointing to his right.

"There!" he exclaimed, and motioned to Kevin to go in that direction. Kevin nodded and they made their way over to Aaron, who was ducking under beer bottles and was nearly smacked in the face by a PSU banner.

"Aaron!" Kevin called, and Aaron's shoulders dropped with relief as he swerved a growing fight and made his way over to them.

Andrew scanned his brother quickly and, after seeing no visible injuries, motioned to start back towards the parking lot. They made their way over to the bus and found Boyd and Danielle standing, the former looking like he'd just lost a fight with a mountain lion.

Danielle was gripping his arm as Abby tended to his wounds, but Andrew heard her say he might need to go to the hospital for the more serious injuries. Boyd looked pained at the thought, but when he glanced up and caught Andrew's eye, he smiled and waved them over.

"Andrew, here," Abby said, noticing his injury. He took an ice pack from her and glanced around.

"Where's Neil?" he asked, choosing to ignore the suggestive look between Boyd and Danielle. Abby shrugged and opened her mouth before her eyes caught on something behind Andrew and she waved.

Andrew turned around to find Renee and Reynolds walking proudly towards them. Reynolds had a mosaic of bruises all over her, and Renee was holding her wrist precariously.

Abby sighed and began treating them as Wymack rounded the front of the bus and finally found his team.

Not the whole team, a ringing voice said in Andrew's head. Neil isn't here yet.

Which was odd, no? He had a security guard in front of him, surely he would have made it here first? Perhaps Wymack had seen him and taken him somewhere. Maybe he was already safe in the bus and Abby hadn’t noticed him.

Andrew pushed past Danielle and boarded the bus, walking the length of it but not finding a loudmouthed striker in its shadows. His stomach became knotted with a curious feeling he slowly identified as dread.

Andrew was at the door of the bus again. He looked at Wymack.

"Where. Is. Neil." he demanded. He saw Wymack's confused expression and before he even said anything, Andrew felt his heart stop.

"I don't know. I thought he was with you."

Reynold's knowing smirk gave way to uncertainty as the rest of the Foxes quieted. There was silence for a moment. Two.

Then Andrew threw his ice pack on the floor and raced back into the heart of the riot.

«««———»»»

He ignored the shouts coming from behind him, his mind an endless loop of Neil, Neil, Neil, is he safe, has he been hurt, he was supposed to be nothing, NEIL

After a few minutes of searching and more than a few near punches, the police finally regained some control over the situation and Andrew was able to scour the grounds for any hint of where Neil might be.

He saw the racquet first. The duffle bag was a few meters away from it.

Numbly, Andrew picked up both items, grabbing Neil's phone as it fell from the netted side pocket.

0, it said. 

Andrew felt a piercing emptiness when he saw Neil's things without their rightful owner beside them.

He slowly walked back to the Foxes' bus, head pounding but unable to really register the dwindling fight behind him. And when the Foxes finally came in view, he saw the confusion on their faces when they saw no Neil walking with him.

Andrew mentally ran through everything that he knew. Neil was scared. He was running from someone, someone Kevin knew about? A zero on his phone from an unnamed number — a countdown, perhaps. He would never leave his things unattended, so maybe he wanted to tell Andrew he had been taken unwillingly, knowing that Andrew would never leave without him.

There was something he was missing, some vital piece of information that Neil hadn't told him that was causing this mess.

The guilty look on Kevin's face told Andrew everything he needed to know. He knew something.

He dumped Neil's things on the ground by Wymack's feet, mentally assessing himself. His cheek throbbed, each breath he took was sticky with sweat, his heart was pounding.

Neil was gone.

Andrew felt such a blind hot rage at that, the likes of which he hadn't felt in so long, the type where he felt like laughing at how cruel the world could be.

And before he could tell his body to stop, Andrew's hands were around Kevin's throat.

«««———»»»

"Shit Andrew! You're hurting— " "Andrew, stop— " "Get off of— "

«««———»»»

Andrew couldn't remember what happened after that, not immediately at least. It was a bit disorienting, going from a perfect recollection to being so overrun by anger that his mind went blank. Was this how everyone else felt all the time? He felt like someone just took out a Jenga piece from his mind, like it was close to collapsing.

Distantly, he recalled being yanked off of Kevin as he gasped some explanation about a mob boss, Kengo's right hand man, Nathaniel Wesninski. But none of it mattered. Andrew had broken his promise. He had hurt the person he had vowed to protect, just like so many had done to him.

And he still didn't have Neil.

«««———»»»

Neil used to make the emptiness a bit fuller, a bit easier to manage, Andrew thought. It felt so impossible to navigate himself now without Neil by Andrew's side.

«««———»»»

There was a hospital. A hotel. There were FBI agents. The news turned on. Off. On. There was another hotel. Handcuffs. Taken away.

«««———»»»

There was Nathaniel Neil. Standing in front of him. Blue eyes, wild hair, bandages unable to hide how irresistible he was, unable to stop the jolt in Andrew's heart.

There was Neil. And everything felt right again.

[aitarose]

May i please have some Osamu and reader on spending their day at home just making out maybe?

KITCHEN BITS (O. MIYA) pairing: miya osamu x fem!reader

synopsis: routine meal preparations with the so-called master chef, osamu miya—and a little bit of kitchen shenanigans.

word count: 1.3k

genre: time skip, established relationship, fluff

warnings: suggestive, cursing

notes: this is literally just them making out and being thirsty which is fair 

↳ DIRECTORY

The pleasant mouth-watering aroma of Osamu’s nationally famed onigiri steamed above the kitchen stove. The scent was perfection to the nose, a smell that would have any normal person hypnotized in the direction of his local restaurant. 

His recipes were delicious, somewhat of a delicacy that even Atsumu held to godly standards—standards that his twin brother always seemed to be able to meet. Standards that were nothing but small roadblocks in his drive to success.

Some would say that food was the way to a man’s heart, the physical gift being the greatest thing anyone could ever receive—but in his eyes, there was no need for presentation and delicacies to win his love. 

As his love had already been won, it’d been won by her.

“What’re you up to?” She asked, arms snaking around his waist, face pressed against his backside as she admired the concentration he held while immersed in the ingredients in front of him. The smell was divine, that of his signature dish.

“Finishing dinner.” Osamu replied, holding a wooden spoon out to her, passing it as if to say that she was now his sous chef. Taking control of the utensil, Y/N maneuvered to see the beautiful food, feeling a deep hunger rumble in her stomach.

It was a daily thing, cooking together, being in each other’s company for as long as they possibly could after the long hours of their respective work days. He was her favorite sight to come home to—the gentle look in his eyes, puckered lips, and strong stature.

Yes, she was hungry—but her hunger wasn’t thinking of food.

He seemed to be thinking the same thing, staring at her rather than the inflamed gas stove, the fire in his eyes matching the hue of the flame—burning and passionate.

By some invisible force, they stepped towards each other in synchrony, bodies colliding as Osamu’s hands buried themselves in her hair, tangling the already messy locks into knots and weeds. His grip was tight, grounding the both of them, making sure their minds were still touching the ground. 

His kisses were fervent, desperate and needy as her mouth danced against his, biting his lower lip in an attempt to deepen their connection—the wooden spoon in her left hand dropping to the ground with a hollow thud, whilst her palms held his face, pulling him closer. 

“‘Samu.” She whispered against him, feeling his breath on her nose. Her heart was pounding fast, a million beats a minute as her chest began to heave, heavy breathing and all. “‘Samu, the food.”

Ignoring her concerns, he craned his neck down, peppering her neck with sparse kisses, sucking on her skin and creating waning spots of shadows. Closing her eyes, she let him continue, too distracted by the feeling of being in his arms to care about anything else.

They were addicted to the taste of each other, having a physical hunger that could only be satisfied through acts of love—acts of love that stemmed from their emotional connection. The kind of connection that could never be broken.

There was no one else quite like Osamu. Out of all of her relationships, there’d not been a single person that had ever been able to make her feel the way he did. How he pleased her needs and listened to her wants, following the steps of her unspoken recipe, never missing a beat. 

As his lips trailed upwards, stopping at her chin and lingering, his lust-filled eyes meeting hers, she felt time stop. All that mattered was him, all that ever mattered was him and what he needed at that very moment, in that very second. 

Wordlessly, they communicated through longing glances, foreheads pressed together, her lips nipping at his. She jumped up knowing that his arms would catch her, that he was always going to be the safety net to pick her up as she fell.

His hands held her tight, gripping her thighs and adjusting her weight to a comfortable hold. As her legs wrapped around his waist, clinging to his body like it was a support beam, her face leant down to meet his once more, his silver locks mixing with her own.

She’d never grow tired of the way his mouth moved with hers. The way he grabbed at her throat, large palm encircling her vocal chords, guiding her jaw towards his and passionately connecting their lips in repetition. He was the customer, and she was his four-course meal. 

Gasping between kisses, she delved deeper, her already bruised lips fighting for control as she reached down, taking a hold of the bottom of his wine stained tee and yanked it to the ceiling—laughing as it flew across the room and into the sink’s dish water.

“Well, that’s one way to clean it.” She giggled, arms latched around his neck, hands rubbing the bare skin of his back. He really was the prettiest sight in the world, toned chest and tousled hair—not even a model could fare in comparison to his beauty.

Shaking his head in amusement, Osamu hoisted her up higher, her neck now having to crane down to meet his lips. “Yer ridiculous.” He more or less groaned between kisses, being fully consumed by her insatiable hunger, craving for more and more of her—wanting as much as he could get. 

The world seemed hazy, a hallucination that only existed when they were the main characters—a mirage that came to life due to their passion and the overwhelming love that they felt. The overwhelming love that they’d communicate through stolen kisses and endless hours in bed. 

“Gonna pay for that.” He mumbled, nodding at his soaked shirt that’d been abandoned amongst the dirty dishes, cringing as it sank beneath the tinted water’s depths. Though his eyes were distracted, his body was attending to her, reacting to the way she was leaving her own marks along his neck. 

With a seductive look on her face, eyelids heavy and full of lust, she neared his ear. He felt his breath catch, an unexpected moan leaving his lips as she nipped his skin, whispering the one thing he’d been waiting for her to say—insinuating what he’d been getting at all along.

“Then make me pay.”

It was as if a switch had been flipped in Osamu’s brain, his muscles working overtime as his longings devoured her. The sound of her light squeal in surprise drove him further off the rails, igniting the flame in him that eternally burned for her and only her. 

As their mouths molded together, familiarizing themselves with the already familiar taste of one another, he blindly made his way to what he assumed was the kitchen island, eyes closed in blindness to his endless love. 

He set her down quickly, arms maneuvering around her in order to keep her attention, not noticing how he’d gone in the exact opposite direction that he’d meant to. Rather away from the divider and towards the bright and hot stove. 

“Fuck!” She yelped, falling off of the counter and onto the floor, holding her bottom like her life depended on it. Her expression had evolved from pure ecstasy to an overload of red, hot pain. 

Panic on his mind, Osamu kneeled down at eye level to her, and tried to think of any way to make her feel better—a way to apologize for his somewhat laughable mistake. Taking her palms in his, pressing kisses to the tops and closing them around his own, she seemed to relax for a moment.

“Let me draw you a bath?” He asked, hoping that the serene water and soaps would relieve her nerves of their stress, relax her into an easy slumber. An easy slumber that wouldn’t involve him getting his ass slandered when she’d awake—when she’d awake and immediately tell Atsumu all about it.

Pushing his shoulder back lightly and hanging off the side of the counter in an attempt to stand up, Y/N shook her head, finding the situation all the more hilarious. “I’ll draw myself my own bath, ‘Samu.”

“And you’re going to stay here and finish dinner—for real this time.”

© aitarose.tumblr 2021. do not copy or claim my writing, works, themes, copy and paste my words, or headers as your own

[sanoiro]

Lucifer Meta: “Choices”

“Choice is a funny thing…-“

Those were Dad’s words not mine back in 3x26. Before P2 dropped I was always saying that episode should be considered one of the core episodes if we wanted to understand S5 and Dad as a whole.

“Give someone different options, different circumstances, will they themselves end up different?” -Dad in 3x26

Lucifer S5 P2 spoilers ahead (I will add more screenshots later on)

I always liked the idea of Lucifer having a choice although his vulnerability theory of mine back in S2 was born out of a different thought.

But angels self-actualise however that applies to wings, a face and powers. In Michael’s case it was his posture as broken as he felt. Otherwise how we could explain that only he tried to urge Chloe on killing him but was rather docile when he believed he would face an immediate death.

Now what we didn’t know is that Gods also self-actualise. Therefore it is a genetic trait if you like. So let’s take this concept when we study Lucifer.

Lucifer has made his own choices over the years and the choices he made were the ones that brought us to the events of S5. However something doesn’t add up. Like yes, he chose that face in Hell because of his shame and how he viewed himself. Lucifer admitted it in 4x08 and Dad confirmed it as well in 5x11. So what is the two things amiss? Well one mostly throughout the series? His glowing red eyes.

The majority of the fanfiction out there express his eyes as an evidence of his Devilness, a connection to Hell while I believed for a very long time it was a manifestation of him being the Lightbringer but what does that constitutes?

Back in S2 Mum constantly calls Lucifer her ‘Lightbringer’, Lucifer lights up Azrael’s blade alone fleetingly when angry at his mother in Trip to Stabby Town. When the Medallion of Life is put on the blade his pain over Chloe flames it up for several seconds before it stops. Only when Lucifer assembles the sword, the medallion and the binding element, also known as Amenadiel’s jewelry. But there is again something amiss. Lucifer does flame it up in 2x18 but Mum’s words suggested that with all the pieces gathered she could do it herself. In a sense it is how Michael did it. No lightbringing power needed but what is that power?

I’m sure you remember back the finale of S3 where Lucifer’s face is licked by fire, his Devil face shows and his eyes glow red. Cain then agrees with Lucifer that ‘You cannot escape what you are’ moving forward in 5x16 Lucifer says I love you to Chloe and he is set on fire very much like he did in S3. Then we see a light we have associated mostly with Mum and Chloe wakes up.

So let’s think of this.

Lucifer apparently since his birth is known as the Lightbringer for no apparent reason. He lit the stars sure but only Mum and Dad are adamant on calling him that the only two beings in the universe that were omnipotent and above all? Omniscient. But they had a pitfall. Not even Mum could see she would be sent to Hell. That leads us to believe that there are choices which lead to as Uriel said to ‘patterns’. Different choices, different patterns. A thousands paths we can take but we cannot which one eventually will be taken and probably Dad and Mum held an optimism.

So let’s assume that when it came to Lucifer they knew one thing. That he had the ability to become a God - perhaps that is why Mum searched for him as he was also a key on changing things, if he became God then essentially she had won but she knew his potential. Now that’s another interesting thing…. Potential.

Dad in S5 tells Ella that the darker the darkness the brighter the light. In Lucifer, Dad mournfully notes that his son has so much light it blinds even him (aka Lucifer).  Perhaps what we as perceived as unseen darkness -even him- is, in reality, a blinding light. Like a torch, you have no idea how to adjust your eyes to and everything seems like it's not light but darkness. So Lucifer had to go from being blinded by his own light to target it outwards in order to light the room. That was his potential. 

Lucifer’s potential for goodness had to be harvested as was his ability to love. He liked humanity, respected them to a point, loathed them to another. Still does actually. But here is the thing. Potential think of Lucifer like a piece of coal or a battery whatever suits you best. Coal can be used to start a low grade fire that can spread from there but by itself it is but a black piece of nothing. So what if what we witnessed in the past five seasons was Lucifer being a slowly burning coal?

Let’s go back to Pops in S1. Lucifer is vulnerable when he takes Chloe out of the flaming restaurant and although he was burned he managed exceptionally well. In S4 he gets out of the exploding building albeit Chloe is far away and his clothes are not burned… Now let’s go to 5x10. Funny if you think that Lucifer manages to stop the chemist flame from burning which is weird as yes he stops the oxygen source to the flame so it us put out but two things happen. One his sleeve gets burned but it is also put out once the flamer does. Lucifer blames it on the polyester mix when we know he does not wear any and if he does it should have spread more.

If Lucifer was completely invulnerable then his suit would have been fine like it was in S4. Sure we have seen bullets not hurt him but have an issue with his clothes but to quote 4x02, it’s all about fire not the suit-superman effect.

Now in 3x23 Lucifer realises that Chloe does not need him but she choose to have him in her life and as such he is willing to leave his 2x12 miracle knowledge behind. In 5x06 Chloe talks about vulnerability which is based on a choice of Lucifer to be vulnerable around her. But with that choice to forward their relationship in 5x07 Lucifer is also making the choice subconsciously to expose himself to her emotionally and physically. At that point that choice stops his vulnerability probably because there is nothing to fear from her anymore. His vulnerability per 5x10 made him felt something he self actualised physically the vulnerability he felt but when she accepted him in her heart and stared a physical relationship his exposed himself differently emotionally.

Therefore Lucifer is still by choice vulnerable to Chloe but not physically as now he is in a healthier place. He opens up to her he is giving a conscious choice to be vulnerable to her while his body stops this stress induced self actualisation -perhaps- of being physically vulnerable. When he is hurt he shows it, he tells her what is going on even if it takes some time. Perhaps at the kitchen at her apartment Chloe didn’t draw blood from his body but certainly did from his soul and he allowed that.

When Mum in S2 said that Chloe was the key she was correct but not for lighting up the flaming sword but lightening up Lucifer. Lucifer needed to reach the point of choosing to be emotionally vulnerable around her and realising he was capable of love and that he loved Chloe, loved humanity.

In 5x16 when Lucifer is starting to burn up, most I’m sure went back to Michael’s words of Lucifer burning to the crisp if he went to Heaven as he was banned. But here is the thing Lucifer made a sacrificial move like the kid in 509 did for the family business. The ring simply bought him time. Lucifer left Heaven but I do not believe he was banned from there or at least I believe that Heaven had a safety net. We saw that even Gods have limitations so let’s think of this:

If Lucifer had listened to Mum and went to heaven the ring would have bought him some time but eventually he would have been either expelled or died(?). Again there are many things to consider here:

-What does it mean to be a God? Is it about power? Is it about being a Creator? Is it about the choice to become a carer? Lucifer became a carer in Hell albeit a rather unconventional one and as we may see things will change.

-Dad and Lucifer have a common thing they love humans and humanity in general. No other angel aside from Amenadiel and only due to his son does do far and in Amenadiel’s case it is not unconditional.

-The fact Lucifer was willing to be God not just for Chloe but because the system was rigged and he loved humans like Daniel and thought that he had to protect the innocent or at least provide a chance for a second chance.

-The song in the end when Lucifer is presented as a God, we listen to the Klergy sing that in a sense it was always mean to be.

I know I have been all over the place but let’s return to the whole lightbringer Lucifer now. So remember Dad when he gets angry. He is meteorologically inclined. In the family dinner and not only there we hear a thunderstorm rumbling close by, lighting ominously lit up the room in a way that Lucifer’s eyes light up in a very eerie yet calm way in many instances, in Le Mec’s case included.

There was always something brewing in Lucifer so when he gets to Heaven, with the same attributes Dad had and to a very different level, Lucifer experiences a metamorphosis. Now Mum and Dad didn’t have physical bodies but Lucifer did. Dad as well Mum in S5 provided us with a manifestation of a human body but they were not born in a flesh like celestial body like their kids did. So when Lucifer gets in heaven he is experiencing what Mum did in S2, he bled light but in a place of souls not on the earthly plane.

Again Lucifer’s body changes but he is not a ‘flesh sack’ as Mum puts it like Charlotte’s body was in S2 for Mum. He is still Lucifer that’s still his body but when Lucifer gets to Heaven he makes a choice again not just a throne to save humanity but his own life which of course leads us to the passage of the Revelation. 

In the end, Chloe was the key and fuel for the coal to lit up to a full blazing fire. Not bad :) I mean he lit up Heaven long before he took off his ring ;) 

“I choose you, I love you”

Michael, the Dragon & the ‘Virgin Mary’. But that’s a meta for another time, one that I have written in the S&S but will be updated for S6.

“And no matter how badly you want to nudge them in the right direction You know they need to find it on their own.”

[uchihasakurawrites]

A Lesson in Practicality (1)

Rating: T for language & depictions of violence

Summary: It takes a near-death experience in Yukigakure for Sakura to realize that Sasuke has her back in more ways than one.

Word Count: 3,154

A/N: This idea was going to be a short drabble, but the storyline ended up going in a direction that I didn’t initially plan for. There will be a Part Two (of 2). Part One has more implied SasuSaku - Sasuke will play a much more significant role in the next part! There’s a very high chance that this is going to be a prequel for the longer SasuSaku fic I’m currently working on. 

Let me know what you think, please!! Thank you to everyone who has left feedback on my work thus far~ 

Cross-posted on AO3 and Fanfiction

______________________________________________   

Sakura had heard enough stories from her fellow kunoichi about birthday gifts from their boyfriends to know that Sasuke’s definition of a gift was unique, to say the least.

Sai’s most recent gift to Ino was simple - a modest bouquet of flowers, carefully cultivated to convey a special message, a basket of cherry tomatoes from his personal garden, and a painting of the two of them on what Ino later told Sakura was their engagement day. Naruto once took Hinata on a two-week getaway to the hot spring resorts of Yugakure for her first birthday after they became official (though Hinata later let it slip that Naruto hadn’t informed Hiashi of their vacation and was subsequently banned from the Hyuuga compound for the foreseeable future). Chouji hosted a surprise birthday party for Karui just a few months after she migrated to Konoha, complete with her closest friends from Kumogakure and a home-cooked buffet. Even Shikamaru had stepped up his game with a private couple’s cooking class at Amaguriama, knowing that Temari would punt him to Suna if he showed up with just the personalized shogi piece he had originally planned on giving to her.

Temari had still barely let him escape, fully aware that Shikamaru had organized the class in hopes of never having to go out of his way to buy her favorite sweets again if she could just make them herself. Watching him burn three batches of roasted chestnuts was enough of a gift in itself.

Sasuke hadn’t been in the village for any of Sakura’s birthdays since before his defection back in their genin days. Even then, she couldn’t remember him going out of his way to give her a gift beyond grumbling out a low “Happy Birthday” if team training happened to coincide with her birthday.

To say that Sakura was shocked when she awoke to the tap tap tap of a messenger bird at her window before dawn on her nineteenth birthday was an understatement. Her grumbles at being awakened at such an hour on a day Ino had explicitly banned Sakura from working stopped the second she recognized the bird as Sasuke’s hawk. After fumbling with the latch on her window for a moment - she swore that the hawk gave her some serious side-eye when it took her three tries to get the latch to unstick - she held out her wrist for the bird. It left in the next breath, right after Sakura untied the scroll it was carrying. Sakura frowned at the hawk’s manners as she hadn’t even gotten to send a reply but realized she shouldn’t expect much. Of course Sasuke’s summons would take on his taciturn attitude.

The note tied to the scroll was simple: A last resort.

Huffing a laugh at the note, which was so very Sasuke, Sakura made quick work of the scroll’s seal. She immediately recognized the script as a summoning scroll, though she couldn’t parse out exactly what the summons was. Most likely one of Sasuke’s if he had sent it to her - a hawk or a snake. She sincerely hoped for the former.

Her first Chunin exams had effectively wrecked snakes for her.

Sakura resealed the scroll with a small smile. She had learned what she was getting into quite quickly when she first realized her love for Sasuke ran deeper than a surface-level crush. Any relationship she had with him wouldn’t be normal, be it romantic or platonic. Sasuke’s definition of a relationship was understandably different than most others; she had to learn how to read into the small gestures and unspoken words he left between them - the forehead pokes, the thank you’s, and the occasional mumbled annoying. There would be no typical gifts, no grand romantic gestures, and she was okay with that.

She had hardly expected a congratulatory note for her birthday, let alone a physical gift. Sure, a summoning scroll might not be the most conventional gift, but Sakura figured the practicality of it summed up Sasuke’s approach to relationships perfectly: securing the safety of those closest to him. This particular gesture meant she was at least somewhere on his (very short) list of valuable people in his life.  

So when she tucked the scroll away, she did so with a smile, knowing that the added weight next to her medical supplies was a comfort that Sasuke had her back no matter where he was.

                                                 *   *   *   *   *

Sakura discovered that sentiment was far more literal than she had initially thought as she fled the scene of an assassination mission gone wrong in Yukigakure. Eliminating the target - a noble displaced by the war who sought to sow seeds of discontent against the ruling family - was fairly straightforward. A quick henge, a few unconscious guards, and a convenient chakra-induced heart attack left no trace to Konoha or the royal family.

The bounty hunters on her tail were decidedly less straightforward.

Since the end of the war, Sakura’s field mission count had dropped drastically. With Tsunade out of the village, rebuilding and strengthening Konoha’s medical system fell squarely on her shoulders. Ino’s support with the Children’s Mental Health Clinic left some room in her schedule for diplomatic medical missions to neighboring villages as a show of goodwill after the Allied Shinobi Forces dissolved, but she was rarely included in combat units. Kakashi had only assigned her to this solo mission as a favor to Koyuki since she was already familiar with Sakura from her genin days. Relations between Konoha and Iwagakure had been steady enough after the war, but Kakashi couldn’t risk instability in a country so close to Iwa.

While Sakura had kept up with her combat skills as well as she could through spars and periodic demonstrations at the Academy, she could feel the rust in her reaction times as she adjusted her own fighting style to the unfamiliar terrain. Snow meant additional chakra expenditure to maintain body temperature and keep her feet planted firmly on the ground; it took her the first few moments of the pursuit just to adjust her fighting style so that she wouldn’t go skidding across ice when she followed through on her punches.

It was the split second of hesitation between her noticing the first hunter rapidly approaching from behind and actually lunging to the left to avoid his attack that cost her a kunai to the thigh. The wound was deep, but Sakura was less concerned about the fact that she could clearly see the muscle fibers in her leg and more concerned about neutralizing the unknown poison that was trying to spread from it. Sewing the skin together enough to stop the bleeding was second nature; it was maintaining a chakra net around the wound to contain the poison that required a bit more focus.

Based on both their speed and specialized jutsu, Sakura guessed the hunters were at least jounin-level. Ten to twelve  total based on a quick extension of her sensory jutsu. Had this been a different situation, Sakura would have been flattered that someone thought she was dangerous enough to send so many high-level shinobi to ambush her. She made a quick mental note to thank Karin for training her in a variant of the Kagura Shingan jutsu.

Running forever wasn’t an option, especially at the pace she was being forced to keep. She needed to start picking these guys off - she figured she had faced far worse odds and won.

Sakura slid to a stop and waited precisely six seconds for about half of the hunters to catch up before she drove her fist into the ground. Unsteady ground and low visibility from the snow she had loosened caught the two closest hunters off guard, and she pressed her advantage to neatly slice their jugulars open with chakra scalpels. She took note of their appearance, standard shinobi gear in shades of white and grey and curiously blank hitai-ates linked around both of their necks, and paused just long enough to snatch one of the headbands for later inspection. She tucked it into her medical pouch before rounding to face the next wave of hunters.

Most of the remaining nin were smart enough to keep their distance; they must have done enough research on her to know that engaging her in close-combat was the fastest way to lose. The nin fell into a loose semicircle formation around her, half close enough for mid-range attacks and half further back. If they were Iwa or Yuki missing nin, she could expect mostly Water and Earth-style jutsu - the same affinities she had, but probably much more practiced.

Keeping a firm hold on her Kagura Shingan to track her opponents, Sakura quickly formed the seals for Suiton: Kiri Shikaku she had picked up during a brief stay in Kiri and saw an immediate improvement in her vision. She caught four hunters in her visual range and charged forward, hoping to close the distance between them fast enough for her to get a clean hit. All four flew through the same familiar sequence of hand signs she had seen from Iwa nin during the war, and a solid rock wall about ten feet high erupted in her path.

Not deterred in the slightest by the barrier, Sakura augmented her speed with chakra and drove a fist into the wall. The rock gave more resistance to her wrist than normal, so she quickly adjusted the chakra concentration in her knuckles to absorb the additional force. The hunters, she guessed, had infused their chakra into the wall in hopes that the reinforcement would injure her wrist or at least slow her down.

Sakura smirked as her fist drove clean through the wall and followed her punch up with a roundhouse to shatter it. Their chakra control was good if they could spread it so finely across the surface of the wall - but hers was better.

She darted towards the closest target and delivered a punch to his gut that snapped his spine clean in half. His partner appeared at her side in the next breath, driving his katana towards her neck and forcing her to drop to her knees to dodge. Sakura swept her leg underneath the nin’s feet, ignoring the stinging sensation of the snow on her skin as she followed the nin’s dodge up with a well-aimed kunai. The weapon landed squarely in the back of his dominant hand and forced him to change grips on his katana.

A small part of Sakura’s mind was immediately suspicious when the two other nin closest to them chose to charge her head-on instead of retreating. Perhaps she had given them too much credit if they were reckless enough to rush into a taijutsu battle with her just because she had taken a few of them out.

It made more sense when chains of water shot out from the ground to bind her ankles and wrists firmly to the ground - the work of the long-range nins’ combined Suiton: Suikusari no Jutsu. They must have been watching for an opening to slow her down long enough for the mid-range hunters to close in on her and deliver a killing blow.

The chains were sturdier than any suiton she had faced in the past, no doubt due to the number of hunters who were focused on restraining her. Sakura channeled a burst of pure chakra to the surface of the skin on her wrists, ankles, and torso; anywhere the chains touched, she honed in on. She could either drive her chakra into the chains, slow down the water molecules in them so that they turned to ice, and shatter them, or push her chakra directly outwards to free herself long enough to move away from the chains.

The first option would have been a more permanent solution, but the breath of a hunter nin on her neck forced Sakura into the second. With a shannaro! Sakura willfully tore her body out of the chains, redirected the chakra to her feet, and used the closest nin’s chest as a platform to fling herself over the chains and out of reach. She shoved one foot into the woman’s chest and used the other to bat a kunai with an explosive tag away from them both.

What Sakura didn’t account for was the nin she had planted her foot on reacting quickly enough to snag her ankle and drag her to the ground with her. She used the momentum of her fall to slide further away from the chains and twisted her ankle to free herself. Ice-covered rocks sliced at her forearms and stomach, but she drove her fingers into the ground to lever herself forward.

Crippling pain radiated from her ankle as soon as she was free, drawing a hoarse cry from her throat. She hadn’t seen a weapon in the nin’s hand, and there was no open wound. A second wave of searing pain nearly brought Sakura to her knees yet again, and she reached out for her medical chakra to send to inspect the area as she narrowly vaulted over a windmill shuriken -

Only to find that summoning her chakra felt like pulling a viscous liquid through a fine sieve. The chakra that had been isolating the poison around her wounds only stayed in place from sheer force of will. She spared a quick glance at her ankle, eyes widening at the black seal branded onto her skin.

Fuinjutsu.

Sakura didn’t recognize the seal and didn’t have time to inspect it further. Water chains exploded from the ground beneath her just as four hunters lunged at her from each direction. She jumped into the air, twisting to narrowly avoid a series of kunai. A loose shuriken lodged into her calf. Sakura immediately recognized the signs of poison digging into her system; she also recognized with a growing trepidation that it took far more of her concentration than she could spare to dredge up the medical chakra necessary to isolate it.

Whatever seal the hunters had placed on her was blocking her chakra flow, but not in a way she had experienced before. Training with Shizune’s poisons and Hinata’s tenketsu blocks hadn’t prepared her for this. Her chakra wasn’t completely inaccessible, but it was as though a fine mesh had settled over each of her chakra points. It was as though the hunters hoped she would continue trying to mold her chakra, exhausting herself enough in the process that they could take her out.

Her dread grew when she reached out for her Byakugo only to feel the same fine mesh blocking her access. She could still feel the mass of chakra settled behind her forehead, but she doubted she could summon enough of it fast enough to make a significant difference in this fight.

Sakura had a sinking feeling that this seal, which she hadn’t even come across in the Uzumaki fuinjutsu scrolls Naruto had lent to her, was designed specifically to hinder ninja with her level of chakra control and reserves. It didn’t matter how much control she had if it took her six times as long to drag her chakra to a specific point. Keeping the poison in her system at bay occupied enough of her attention at the moment. Evading the seemingly endless water chains that followed her and the four nins on her tail only added to her exhaustion.

One of the hunters managed to land a kick squarely on her side, cracking at least two ribs. Sakura took another blow to her back, and she twisted to catch the nin’s ankle. She snapped it cleanly in two, baring her teeth as she drove a kunai into the kunoichi’s neck before she could finish the seals for an Earth-style jutsu.

She managed to keep with this rhythm long enough to incapacitate another two nin but knew that she was reaching her limit. She took a half dozen more hits from the closest hunters and a particularly nasty cut from a katana before she pulled back, focused on her seal, and pushed. Black lines twisted down her face and startled the hunters long enough for her to shunt what chakra she could get ahold of to the soles of her boots. The force of the chakra from her seal was enough to push what little she needed through.

Sakura took off at a sprint, running as far and as fast as she could in the opposite direction of the hunters who immediately followed suit. Knowing her options were limited, Sakura scrambled behind the first large boulder she could find and snapped the highest level genjutsu she could manage over the surrounding area. Her jaw clenched to choke off a scream at the fire that lanced through her chakra network as she forced her chakra into the jutsu.

Her chakra control, it seemed, was not better than whichever nin had developed this seal.

She quickly surveyed her condition - several lacerations, at least two cracked ribs, and more poison in her system than she could afford to isolate at once - and realized that the seal on her ankle was not only making it more difficult to mold chakra but also draining it. Sakura immediately withdrew her own chakra, slamming her Yin seal down before the hunter’s seal could touch her reserves. Without her Byakugo, Sakura figured she barely had enough chakra to maintain her genjutsu and keep the poison around her major wounds locked in place. Healing herself would do nothing but leave her drained and vulnerable when the hunter nins eventually found her.

Her genjutsu skills had improved drastically under Kurenai’s tutelage, but the hunter nins would eventually figure out what she had done and double back to find her. They knew as well as she did that she wasn’t in a condition to flee very far.

Without hesitation, Sakura withdrew the summoning scroll Sasuke had given her from a pouch at her hip and snapped it open. She didn’t have enough chakra to summon enough of Katsuyu to be useful, and Sakura would be long dead before reinforcements came even if she did ask Katsuyu to send a message to Konoha.

As much as she hated snakes, Sakura desperately hoped for Aoda as she drew a bloodied thumb across the parchment (though the rational part of her brain noted she probably didn’t have the chakra to handle that level of summons either). She blanched at the strain the summons put on her chakra network and wondered belatedly if she had overestimated how much of what little chakra she had left she could actually direct towards the summons. Slamming her eyes shut with a choked cry, Sakura visualized grabbing onto the thin trails of chakra that creaked through her veins and pulled.

If she’d had the energy for it, Sakura is certain she would have screamed when it was neither a hawk nor a snake that appeared before her - but rather, Sasuke Uchiha himself.

[belovedbangtan]

Dive

Pairings: Jungkook x y/n, Yoongi x oc

Word Count: 3.1k

Description: Camping with your ex, sounds horrible right? The camping trip was planned and payed for long before y/n’s shitty boyfriend broke up with her. Her best friend Abby, Yoongi, Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook are there to make sure she has an amazing time. However, sharing a tent with a smoke show like Jungkook is bound to lead to some complications.

Warnings: Language, Mentions of anxiety, drinking, that’s is for this chapter!

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“I just don’t think we’re the right fit,” His voice was calm. Too calm in your opinion. You didn’t bother to ask questions, but he insisted on explaining why. Of course, he was trying to make you feel better about the situation, but him rambling on about how your lifestyles didn’t align was not something you wanted to hear. He wanted to get drunk every weekend and spend daddy’s money, while you were too tired to even think about drinking. You didn’t have a safety net to rely on and that was something that he would never understand. It didn’t make the blow hurt any less. You knew the relationship was getting rocky. When it was bad, he turned a blind eye, but when it was good, it was really good. Your mother told you that the way you ignored serious problems would end up biting us in the ass. You groaned as you realize that means you have to tell her she was right all along. He handed you your box of things and you can’t believe there wasn’t more in the box. After a year of sleeping at his house, you could fit everything in a small box. Part of your brain knew this would happen; it anticipated your flame burning out.

You close the door behind him and you sift through the box. You scoff picking up the frame that held a picture of you both. Remembering when he showed it to you. You were in awe as he complimented your figure, claiming “That’s when I knew I loved you”. You take the frame instantly throwing it into the trash can, along with the other keepsakes he assumed you would want to keep. You laugh to yourself finally being able to realize what a pretentious douche bag he was. The tears staining your cheek are confusing you. You did love him, you just weren’t in love with him. It hurt nonetheless.

You throw yourself onto the bed letting the memories of the past year overwhelm you. You might as well get this out of the way. You decide to call your best friend, Abby, the one who introduced you to Ben. The dial tone rings out and you still try to sort out how you feel. Within minutes of talking on the phone, she decided she’s coming over. Even though you insist that you’re fine, she knows you well enough, and you’ll never say no to ice cream.

“What a fucking douche,” Abby mumbles shoving a spoon of ice cream into her mouth. You reach over dipping your own spoon in. You were adults now; you didn’t even bother with bowls.

“Tell me about it,” you roll your eyes, leaning back onto the couch, “I’m pissed I have that whole camping trip next week paid for..”

She cuts you off immediately, “No, fuck that. You’re still coming.”

You sit up quickly, eyebrows scrunching together, “You’re delusional if you think I’m coming on that trip.”

“You’re delusional if you think you’re going to let him control your life, you’re coming and that’s that!” she points a finger in your direction.

“I don’t even have any camping gear. He was the one that had all of that stuff.” You explain as you pick up the quart of ice cream, walking it over to your freezer. Of course, you were excited to go on this trip. Abby couldn’t stop talking about how much fun it had been last year. Tons of people all camped out, getting drunk out of their minds. She told me about how the last night they would all skinny dip in the river at midnight. You cringed when she first told you about it, but now it sounded revitalizing. You couldn’t get past the fact that Ben would be there. He would without a doubt try to make you feel bad for coming since it was mostly his group of friends. Not to mention how would you feel watching him as he throws himself at the single chicks.

“I can ask Jungkook if he’ll share his tent. His friend was supposed to come but bailed,” She instantly started to text him.

“No, no, no,” You rush over trying to take her phone from her hands, but she was too quick, “Abby, I’ve only met Jungkook once and it didn’t seem like he liked me very much.”

She looks down at her phone as it dings, the corners of her mouth raise as her brows do, “Well, he doesn’t mind. It’s settled you’ll come. You can sleep in Kook’s tent, and you’ll hang out with me and Yoongi’s friends.”

You see, Abby was dating Yoongi. Through Yoongi, Abby met all of his friends from College. To be honest you still didn’t quite understand how Ben and his group of friends became friends with Yoongi and his group of friends. A year ago, Abby invited you to a birthday party and Ben was there. He was so persistent about taking you on a date, you gave in. He turned on the charm, he was the picture-perfect boyfriend. As soon as you fell for him, it was like he didn’t feel the need to try anymore. So, he stopped. He stopped planning dates for you, and simply started going out with his friends again. That was about seven months into the relationship. Eight months into the relationship you found messages from a girl he claimed to work with. Clearly that was all bullshit. You wondered how a relationship could go from good to bad in a matter of months, but it happened; and you regret falling for him in the first place. You had met Yoongi’s friends before and they were always pleasant, you just hoped that they would be more authentic than Ben and the group of uptight assholes he calls his friends.

It was confusing to you but Abby explained that there where about 25-30 people coming, but they would mostly stay in their own friend groups. You assumed you would know most of the people in Ben’s group, you just hoped they would ignore you.

You zone out, you mind flooding with all of the worst possible outcomes. Abby rambles on about how you’ll love getting to know all of the boys. How they’ll welcome you with open arms. You had met them before, they were incredible humans. However, it didn’t make you forget that your ex-boyfriend would be there too. You finally focus on her words, and you listen as she brags about all of the exciting things to look forward to.  After a while her enthusiasm makes you forget the bad. Genuine excitement starts to run through your veins. She was right, you deserved this trip just as much as he did. You were going to have a good time despite him and that was that.

 Friday came faster than you anticipated. You threw yourself into work, leaving your brain little time to think about your broken heart. Or the potential disaster this weekend could be. Abby calls you letting you know that they’ll be outside to pick you up shortly. You grab your luggage and give yourself a once over in the mirror. It was particularly hard deciding what to wear today. How do you dress when you want to make your ex jealous, but you’re also in the woods and sweating your ass off? Cut off jean shorts, a plain white crop top, with a buffalo plaid tied around your waist. Your hair in loose waves, you tousled it with your fingers before sliding the black baseball cap over your hair. Before you have the chance to freak out and change your entire outfit you hear honking outside. You grab your bag filled with blankets and a pillow and you toss your backpack over your shoulder.

The door to the SUV flings open to show a beautiful blonde man on the other side, Jimin. You remembered Jimin the most from previous gatherings, he was always attempting to create a conversation. He yells your name in excitement, instantly making you feel more at ease. Last thing you wanted was any additional drama or tension between you and whoever. He pulls you into a warm hug. After he puts your things in the trunk, you both hop into the back seat.

Abby turns around and looks you up and down, sliding her sunglasses down her nose slightly.

“You’re cute. I like it… it’s like,” she tilts her head as she scans her brain for the right words, “casual, but still make my ex kinda jelly.” You nodded in response, laughing to yourself. Sometimes you felt like you shared a brain cell. With that Abby punched the Campsite address into the GPS and we were on our way.

“So are you nervous?” Jimin asks quietly.

“Kinda,” You suck your bottom lip into your mouth, “but honestly I just want to have fun. It’s really not about making him jealous or anything. I just want to do me, and he can do whatever he wants.” You shrug before looking up to Jimin, a devilish smile starting to take over his face.

“I’ll make sure you have the best time. No unnecessary ex- boyfriend drama,” his smile is sincere, and you can tell that he means what he says, “I’m serious. You don’t have to worry about stupid shit. Just have a good time.” His hand lightly grazes your arm.

He barely hears your ‘thank you’ as Abby turns the radio on full volume, then Yoongi instantly turns it down. She glares at him and his stoic face shows he’s unfazed by her ferocity. You giggle at their interaction; you’ve never met two people who leveled each other out more. They were perfect for each other and exactly what you hoped you and Ben would be. It was never like that though, your chemistry was never something anyone would be jealous of.

A few hours, and a many snacks later you finally pulled into the camp site. Your stomach drops when you see your ex’s car lined up among the rest of them. You take a deep breathe, staying in the car a moment longer when everyone else gets out to unpack their things. In the middle of giving yourself a pep talk, your door is pulled open by the one and only, Kim Taehyung.

His smile is one to make you forget, and that’s exactly what it does.

“What’s the hold up, beautiful?” He reaches across you to unbuckle your seatbelt, and you don’t have time to panic, “Don’t worry, Jimin briefed me. Operation ‘Good Time’ is a-go.” He quickly looks left and right over dramatically. You can’t stop the laugh that surfaces. He was fucking hilarious and you thanked the heaven that you didn’t need to explain yourself or your situation. Even though you were sure that Abby had probably blabbed about the entire situation to all of them. It didn’t matter though, they were making this experience exactly what you wanted it to be. He takes your hand pulling you from the car, making obscene secret agent sounds as he rounds the car to the trunk, Yoongi and Jimin both giving him the weirdest look.

You scan the area around the campsite, your eyes wanting to find him, but your head and heart knowing that you wouldn’t like what you saw. Suddenly your eyes were frozen on someone else. His long hair in a tiny ponytail on top of his head as he rolled the tent from the bag. The tattoos on his arms giving him an edge that he didn’t have before. His entire demeanor was making your body warm. Of course, you remember Jungkook, you remember how rude Ben was to him. You sigh before taking your bags and deciding to walk over, the least you could do was help him set it up.

“Hey roomie.” You say instantly regretting it as it left your lips, he made you forget how to think.

He chuckles as he looks up, brushing a few stray hairs away from his face, “Hey! I should be done in a few minutes.” He says popping together the pieces of the tent like a pro.

“Let me help!” you set your bags down and you move to his side. He hands you a piece to put together, and he demonstrates how to do it. The muscles on his forearms making your knees weak. What the fuck was happening here, it had been so long since you’ve felt this way for someone. Another reason to be thankful that things had ended between you and Ben.

Almost as if he heard your internal dialogue, you hear him. Your eyes shoot up to see him shot gunning a beer with his close circle. You groan, mumbling ‘fucking douche’ under your breath, but apparently loud enough for Jungkook to hear.

His eyes peak over at you and he can’t help but laugh at your response, “You’re not wrong.” He agrees quietly. You nod your head agreeing with him.

The tent is finally together and you start to put your things inside. Jungkook rolls out a queen size blow up mattress and you instantly regret the tiny sleeping bag you brought. You might have fucked up.

“Are you sleeping on that?” Jungkook’s eyes are wide as he kneels next to the mattress using a battery powered pump to bring it to life.

“Uhm, yeah. I guess I didn’t get the memo,” You giggle at your pathetic 5th grade sleep over set up.

He looks at his mattress then looks down as if he isn’t sure of what to say, “Well this is a Queen, we can share if you want.”

“Oh my gosh, no. You’re already sharing your tent,” You shake your head, even though you know deep down that’s exactly where you want to end up.

“The offers on the table,” His tongue pokes the side of his cheek as the corners of his mouth turn into a smile, “Besides, having you in bed with me wouldn’t be the worst thing.” He turns his head biting his lip gently as he laughs quietly. You giggle nervously in return because it’s all you can do. You’re positive your cheeks are burning red, and there’s a wetness between your legs suddenly. You excuse yourself to get your other bag, and possibly smack Abby for failing to brief you on the smoke show that is Jeon Jungkook. Asshole, you knew he was attractive but, what the actual fuck.

Abby was sitting on Yoongi’s lap while Taehyung and Jimin were setting up the tent. A tent fit for royalty. It was massive compared to the one you were sharing with Jungkook, but you definitely weren’t complaining about the smaller shared space. Frankly, you were thankful for it. You walked over to your friend and flicked her on the back of her head. She ducked down and covered her head, “What the fuck was that for?!” She screamed.

“For many reasons!” You start yelling at her in a whispered tone, “one, you didn’t tell me to bring one of those blow up thingies.”

“Oh fuck. My bad, what else?” she rolls her eyes, still not feeling the abuse was necessary.

Your eyes widen and you point your head in a different direction, she quickly got the hint. You grabbed her arm once she was safely out of Yoongi’s lap, pulling her to where no one could hear you.

“So, I met Jungkook. He might have asked me to sleep with him?” you say questioning yourself entirely. Now that you say it aloud… were you dreaming that happened?

“Excuse me… what?” She scrunches her brows together grabbing your arms.

“Not like… sex. But to sleep on his mattress… but he could have meant sex?” You were genuinely confused.

“Ah!” She squeals and quickly checks her surroundings, “Okay, so he’s single and YOUR single. I’ve been waiting for this!” She squeaks, speaking too fast for anyone else to comprehend what was happening. She starts to ramble on about setting you and Jungkook up and you quickly stop her. That wasn’t what you came here for. You didn’t come to rebound in a tent a few feet away from your very recent ex-boyfriend. You came to have fun. Simple as that. She lets it go but insist that you shouldn’t deny it. ‘It’ being the undeniable connection Jungkook and I apparently had. You rolled your eyes but, you hoped she was right. You hoped that you left this weekend with more than memories. Hopefully the connection you made with Jungkook, Taehyung, Jimin and Yoongi would be something that would make all of the awkwardness worth it.

 As the sun fell behind the tall trees, the temperature dropped quick. Around what felt like 11 at night, mostly everyone was done for the day. Maybe not everyone but you certainly were. After watching Ben hit on every girl with a pulse you were exhausted. Tae and Jimin distracted you for a bit with a game of sand volleyball, but that only contributed to your exhaustion. You told everyone you were going to sleep. You unzipped the tent and you pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a swapped your crop top for a t-shirt. As you unzip your sleeping bag you look at the air mattress. For a half a second you debated on falling asleep on it, but then deciding it might be awkward when Jungkook finally comes to sleep. Maybe he was kidding about sharing the bed with you. You really didn’t know him well enough to decipher when he was being sarcastic or serious. Even if you knew he was serious, would you do it? You snuggle up in your sleeping bag, wishing you would have at least brought another cover with you. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t imagining what it would feel like to have Jungkook as your own personal heater. Having is arms pulling you into his body, maybe feeling his lips against yours. Eventually your exhaustion takes over and you fall asleep with some not so PG images in your head.

You’re woken up a few hours later to the sound of the tent being unzipped. You see Jungkook climb inside through the slits of your eyes. You’re eyes close as you hear him rustling around in his bag, probably looking for pajamas. You turn away from him, realizing how cold you are you start to shiver. You take the edges of the blanket and pull them up to cover your nose. You forget about Jungkook until you feel a large blanket covering your body. You hear him shuffle back onto the air mattress and you want to sit up and give it back to him. Maybe tell him you can both use it. You’re too tired to be that ballsy though, you slowly start to fall asleep again.

A/N: So float trips are really popular where I’m from, so i’m sorry if you have no idea what i’m referring to! Hopefully our mood board helps with some imagery! Please let me know what you think!!

[thebluenoteblog]

Rebound

Summary: You really didn't handle the break up well, that is after all, how you ended up in the bed of a member of the opposing team the night before a big game. What could possible go wrong (spoiler: a lot).

Player: Colton Parayko

Word Count: 2500

Warnings: Drunk one night stand and cursing. 

***Tyler Seguin is sort of the bad guy in this fic. I have nothing against him. I’ve written many fics about him. I just wanted to play on a central devision rivalry and this is an old fic. At the time he was the only player on one of those teams that I knew enough about to write without having to google anything. I did not mean to offend anyone and I would like to clarify that this is just a story and I do not think that he would actually do this in real life.***

You tossed back yet another shot, knowing somewhere in the recesses of your fuzzy brain that you really shouldn’t. You should have stopped three drinks ago. You should have stopped the first time you almost fell off your barstool. The bartender should have cut you off. But none of that happened. Instead you pursed your lips at the burn in the back of your throat as the liquor ran down it for the umpteenth time that night.

Your phone was dead, and you had no idea how you were getting back to the hotel, at this point you didn’t care. It had been so long since you had seen Colton outside of work and you were broken. You couldn’t remember how to function. Going to work every day, taking pictures of the boys for the social media accounts, seeing him on the ice, on the plane, and not being able to touch him or talk to him… everyone knowing that things ended… you couldn’t do it anymore.

You were days away from checking yourself into the hospital. For your liver’s safety and your own. If you were in the hospital though, you lost all of your crutches, liquor and rebounds, and you couldn’t call Colton at five in the morning and pray that he would answer.

He usually did, because that was the kind of man that Colton was. He wanted to make sure you didn’t need anything important. Someday he would stop answering. That thought had you ordering another drink.

“Let me buy that for you?” A voice asked from behind you, you turned your head and stumbled a little. A hand reached out and steadied you, landing on your back. “Careful,” He laughed.

Bingo, you found a ride home. And a crutch for the night. He was cute. Tall. Not as tall as Colton by any meaning of the word, but that was good. You didn’t want that. He didn’t look anything like Colton. That was exactly what you needed. He looked oddly familiar, but you were too far gone to place it. “Sure,” you said.

“You aren’t from Dallas, are you?” He asked, taking in your faded blues t-shirt.

You shook your head as he sat down, and you closed your eyes, the motion making your head spin, “No, I’m from St. Louis. Just visiting for a couple days.” Your words were barely slurred, and you were surprised that you were stringing that many together coherently. You must be spending too much time drunk. Your poor liver.

The bartender delivered your shot and it was gone in a second. You made the same face you’d made before, he was smiling at you when you opened your eyes. He handed the bartender a card, “Cover her tab,” he said.

“You don’t have to do that,” you said, making a sound of protest.

He waved a hand, “Its nothing.”

“You underestimate how much I’ve had to drink,” you responded.

He shrugged, “Like I said, it’s nothing.”

The two of you talked for a little while, you avoided what you were doing in Dallas and he didn’t mention what he did for a living. Eventually, you said, “Do you want to get out of here?” your head was still fuzzy but you were starting to sober up a bit and you were pretty sure that you could walk by that point.

“Fuck yes,” he said, and he placed his hand on your back as he showed you to his car.

****************

You woke up the next morning to an alarm going off, naked, in the bed of a strange man. You snapped your eyes open and were immediately thankful that you were mostly immune to hangovers. You jerked up in bed and noticed the naked form of Tyler fucking Seguin lying next to you. This was a new low. Even for you. As the social media manager for the Blues, you couldn’t be hooking up with the Alternate captain of the Dallas Stars. It just wasn’t something that would fly if anyone found out.

Besides the fact that they were playing tonight, and you didn’t want to think about all the chirping that would occur if Seguin found out you were Colton’s ex-girlfriend. It was a nightmare waiting to happen. Thank god neither of them were fighters. Not that you would expect Colton to pick a fight over you after all of his insisting that he didn’t care about you, but it was a pride thing.

If everyone heard a guy say he fucked your girl the night before, and he was clearly serious, even if it was your ex-girl, you were all but contractually obligated to hit him. It was like in the unwritten rules of hockey.

You jumped out of bed and began gathering your clothes, praying that Seguin was a heavy sleeper and you would get out of the room before he woke up to the sound of the alarm. Unfortunately, that mission was a failure. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you back onto the bed. “No round two?” He asked, “No good morning kiss?”

You hesitated, then decided that this would be a good time to come as close to clean as you could without endangering lives. “I’m in Dallas because I’m the Blues social media manager. I was to drunk last night to realize who you were and now that I know, I can’t sleep with you in good conscience,” you paused as a look of understanding dawned on his face, “They would run me out of my office with torches and pitchforks if they found out.”

Seguin released you and backed up, “Jesus, I didn’t realize you were that drunk.”

You nodded as you pulled your shirt over your head, “Well, this was fun. Don’t mention it to anyone. And I mean anyone.”

“What, do you think they’ll fire you over it or something?” He asked, leaning back against his headboard, not seeming to care that he was barely covered by a thin sheet, “You’re a big girl. I’m sure they understand that you have needs.”

“And they expect me not to meet them with the opposing team the night before a big game on a road trip,” you said, covering your tracks, “I have to go, I’m supposed to get pictures of morning skate for the accounts.”

He shrugged, “Whatever you say.”

************

Colton had a shit night. He hadn’t slept worth a damn. He’d laid in bed and stared at his phone, waiting for your five am call that usually came but sometimes didn’t. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what happened on the nights that your calls didn’t come. He was always an emotional mess the next day, but he played his best. Big aggressive hits and hard shots that tore the net and shattered the glass. He’d accidentally hit Binner so hard in the mask with a puck one day at practice after you didn’t call that the poor guy had to sit out for a solid five minutes.

Today was bad though, because you were in Dallas, and what the fuck were you doing out in Dallas? Who were you with? Were you safe? All those thoughts raced through his head at twice the rate they normally did. You knew people back home. You had friends. He could convince himself that you were just busy with the girls. This was different.

He made his way down to morning skate and as all the guys entered the ice, he saw you standing at one of the Zamboni entrances. He was tempted to skate over to you and ask why you hadn’t called the previous night, but instead he just skated a circle around the rink, noticing when he did that you had a hickey on your neck. Mostly concealed by foundation and a jacket, something one would only notice if they were looking for it like he was. He ground his teeth on his mouth guard and focused his eyes forward.

***************

The puck dropped at seven o’clock and Seguin started a brawl at seven fifteen. It was between face-offs, they were just standing next to each other and he said, “So funny, I found out who runs your social media accounts.” He was met with a blank stare from Colton, so he continued, on a mission to throw the giant of a defensemen off his game. “Well anyway, I found her personal Instagram and it turns out the two of you used to be a couple!” He laughed “isn’t that funny? She hasn’t taken your pictures down yet, you know?”

By this point, they had started to draw a small crowd. The team knew how sensitive of a subject you were for Colton. If there was any way to get him to drop gloves, this just might be it. “Why is that funny?” Colton asked, going stiff. He thought back to the lack of a phone call and the hickey on your neck. No. You would never screw another hockey player. Not a Star. Not someone with a reputation like Seguin’s. You wouldn’t do that to him no matter how much he hurt you.

Still, the longer he stared down into Seguin’s eyes, the less he believed what he was telling himself.

“Well, it’s funny because I fucked her last night.” He said, a devious and amused look on his face.

Blood was pounding in Colton’s ears so loudly that he almost didn’t hear the next part of his statement.

“She’s a freak, but you already knew that didn’t you?”

A few things happened at once. First, the refs gave up on the face off upon hearing what Seguin said. Second, Colton threw his stick on the ground, shook off his gloves and pounced like a lion on a gazelle. He didn’t even wait for Seguin to drop his gloves first, though he did a second later, before the refs even made it over to break up the fight. All the stars were on Colton, trying to stop him and pull him off of Seguin who was definitely not a fighter and did not have size or anger on his side.

His teammates had his back though because they all grabbed a different guy and went to town. Within seconds they had a full-on line brawl and the refs were struggling to decide who to break up first. They both seemed slightly hesitant to mess with Colton who looked ready to murder and Seguin was now on the ice but still fighting back as much as he could when pinned to the ground. He was bleeding, his nose looked broken at the very least. Both refs grabbed a shoulder and pried Colton off of him.

Colton seemed to realize what he was doing and backed off. He stood up, raising to his full six-foot six height and looked over to where he knew you were standing, mouth agape and camera hanging limply by your side. He knew you would be pissed and confused. He hung his head, equally pissed at himself and skated off the ice, head hung, running a bloody knuckled hand through his hair as he headed straight to the locker room, leaving his equipment on the ice and not even waiting to be told that he was being called for a ten-minute misconduct. It was obvious. The trainers were already making their way to Seguin. Besides, his hands needed to be iced or they would be bruised too deep to move his fingers tomorrow.

****************

Colton was sitting on his couch staring at the wall, wondering how on earth he’d managed to avoid a suspension when he heard a knock on his door. He made his way across the house and pulled it open to revel you, standing out in the snow in nothing but a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. “Jesus (Y/N), you have to be freezing.” He said, pulling you inside and closing the door behind you.

You were shivering but he knew you would never admit to being cold. “I came to tell you you’re an idiot,” you said.

He paused and furrowed his bows. “You came all the way here to tell me that?”

“You got a game misconduct on your nearly pristine record because you let something some guy said about me get to you. You’re an idiot, you said, crossing your arms.

He pushed his lips together and took in a deep breath before responding, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t get suspended. Those refs went to bat for you. That and your reputation are the only thing that saved you.”

“I said I’m sorry okay!” He snapped, “It hurt!”

You looked taken aback, “What hurt?” You asked.

He sighed, “You being with someone else. It hurts. It hurts so fucking much.”

“You’re going to stand there and tell me you haven’t been with anyone in the last two months?” You asked him, your chin rising in defiance.

“Yes, (Y/N), because I can’t.” He said shaking his head. He took a step closer to you. All of the times that he’d wanted to touch you since the two of you had split crashing down on him and crushing his will power. “I still love you and it feels so wrong to look at anyone else.”

You sucked in a shaky breath, “You left me. You broke up with me.”

“It was the biggest mistake I ever made.” Colton said, finally bringing his hand up to rest on your cheek. “You don’t know how sorry I am.”

“What are you saying, Colt?” You asked, looking up into his eyes, ignoring the bruise on his jaw that made you unreasonably angry.

He swallowed roughly, “I’m asking you to forgive me (Y/N), I’m asking you to take me back.”

You blinked your eyes closed and a tear ran down your cheek. He swept it away with his large thumb. “I forgive you, Colt. I could never hold a grudge against you.”

“But?” He asked quietly.

“But… how will I ever trust that you won’t leave me again?”

He resisted the urge to pull you tight against him and press his lips against yours and prove to you in a thousand ways, just how dedicated he was to never leaving your side again. Instead he said, “Baby, if you take me back, I will do anything in the world to prove to you that I will never hurt you again. I’ll spend as much time with you as I can. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. Anything. Just for you. Just please,” He said, dropping his head to meet your eyes as you opened them, “Give me another chance.”

You swallowed roughly and studied him. After a moment, you said, “You don’t have to take me anywhere. I just want you.”

This time, he didn’t stop himself. He pulled you into his arms and pressed his lips against yours, putting all the emotions that he had been suffering behind it.

[stonecoldjerseyfox]

Jersey on my mind (part 1)

Daryl rams his fist in the roof of the car as hard as he possibly can and swears loudly at his own stupidity; he doesn't even try to tailor the words as he utters a whole bunch of profanity, without its equal. Fucking hell! Of course it was a trap! And here they are, locked inside a car, like a baffled fox stuck in a fox scissors. The difference is that he and Aaron are stuck inside a crappy car with a dead engine, surrounded by walkers. How many are they? Too many. Right now, he’d preferred the fox scissors. With pulsating, burning knuckles he looks at his male companion.

”What?”

The man in the passenger seat observes him calmly. Daryl hesitates at first, but on the other hand; they are sitting in a car that can be devoured, to say the least, by hordes of walkers any second. It would just require that one of those rotten morons manages to smash a window.

”I came out here too, ya know, not feel all close up back there.” Daryl scoffs. ”Even now, this still feels more like me than back in them houses. That's pretty messed up, huh?”

Aaron meets his gaze, nods slightly, with a faint smile. Is it pity?

”You were trying.”

Maybe all in vain, Daryl thinks. He’s been accustomed to surviving day by day; all of his life has been about surviving, often day by day, to the point where this new reality feels completely unnatural to him. Being out in the woods, hunt for food, sleep underneath the stars, wash off wherever he could find water. Nowadays, since the group settled in Alexandria, he feels like a caged, wild animal; shackled, restricted, totally superfluous. To admit that this new way of life doesn’t bring him any calm, any satisfaction, is shameful. But to come clean with it; if this is the end, it doesn’t matter, right?

”Listen-” Aaron says, while a walker presses its face towards the window, smears its saliva, mixed with blood, all over it. ”I saw you with your group out there. You led them to safety.”

Daryl grunts. Yep, he did. But that wasn't enough. Nothing is enough. He couldn't save Beth and it still haunts him in his dreams. No one, not even Maggie, blamed him for it, but it didn’t help him sleep any better at night. He thought the discovery of Alexandria would heal his wounds to some extent, make him feel that he was repaying some kind of debt to the group, a favor of some sort; In vain off course.

A dead bastard grins badly at him through the window. They can’t sit here. They have to get out. Aaron seems to think the same. Daryl takes a cigarette from his pocket, puts it between his lips and starts looking for something to light it with.

”I’ll go.” he says. ”I’ll lead them out. You make a break for the fence.”

Aaron immediately starts to oppose the plan. Crap, they don’t really have time to argue.  

”Just let me finish my smoke first.”

Daryl is about to take a throat flare when he’s interrupted. Somewhere on the outside, gunfire breaks out. Daryl drops the cigarette into his crotch out of pure surprise. He swears out loudly as the cigarette burns a small hole in his pants, while the walkers, whose attention has been directed towards the men inside the car, like kids in a candy store, shifts attention towards the sound. Aaron twists and turns in the passenger seats, tries to get a glimpse of what’s going on outside, but the walkers are in the way.

”What’s that?”

”I dunno.”

Whatever it may be, it can't be good. No one from their group knows they are here. Outside the car, walkers are mowed to the ground like dominoes. This is their chance.

”Come on.”

Daryl grabs the crossbow. With the cigarette in the corner of his mouth and with one last glance at Aaron, they swing the doors open and throw themselves out of the car. Without dropping the cigarette, Daryl swings the crossbow through the air and hits one of the walking corpses right in the kisser. Its jaw bone flies through the air and drops to the ground. At the same time Daryl sees two figures in the corner of his eyes he doesn’t recognize. A male, armed with what looks like the shaft of a broomstick, which he swings through the air like some goddamn- he’s torn from the staff and the man, as the second figure dives into his field of view. A woman, wearing a hat, armed with an automatic rifle that she aims at a walker right behind him; she shoots and the bullet hits straight in the head.

”Let’s go.” the unknown male waves at them to follow his lead.

They start running through the mass, towards the open gate in the fence, surrounding the area. Daryl shuts the gate in front of the remaining walkers just as they reaches it. Daryl and Aaron turns towards the newcomers. The situation has changed in the matter of seconds. From being crammed inside the car, surrounded by walkers and in the belief that their last moment had come, they have been freed by two complete strangers. The deserted street is littered with walkers. The four of them looks at each other, while the remaining dead sons of bitches tries their best to squeeze themselves trough the small squares of wired net.

”That was…” Aaron looks at them with his hands raised in front of him; some kind of peaceful gesture. ”That was… wow. Thanks. I’m Aaron. This is Daryl.”

Without the slightest facial reaction, the woman lifts the rifle at them; over the barrel Daryl meets her steady, yet jaded, gaze underneath the brim. Come on…

”No, no, no.” Aaron waves his hands even more frantically in front of himself and Daryl.

”What the f-”

”Mila-” the man’s dark eyes widen at her bold action.

”Safety precaution, Morgan.” the woman replies, in a thick accent no one of them definitely haven’t heard before. ”You got to save them. Now we’re even.”

”I said no harm-”

”Yeah, ’cuz that went well yesterday?” she scoffs.

Daryl’s tired. Tired of being surprised, tired of being overshadowed and damn tired of having weapons aimed at him; he raises his crossbow at her. That might make her boggle. It doesn’t.

”I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” she says. Without breaking their eye contact she nods the barrel towards the ground, for him to put down his crossbow.

”Ain’t that smart pointing guns at people, lady.”

”Ain’t smart getting trapped either.”

Don’t fucking test my patience, Daryl thinks, focuses on breathing trough his nose; it’s not the right time to fire up, though his temper works against him on that part. He sighs and reluctantly lowers the crossbow. Behind the rifle he’s met with a smirk, whereupon she lowers the rifle.

”Great.” Aaron lets out a deep sigh. ”Thanks, again. Erhm, why-” he turns and looks at the bloodthirsty cluster behind the fence.

Daryl looks at the male with the staff. Why didn’t he kill them? She was the only one who actually did.

”Because all life is precious, Daryl.”

At those words the woman rolls her eyes.

”Wha-”

”Don’t ask.” the young woman interrupts Aaron. ”We have to move. Whoever set the trap will return.”

Daryl looks at the unlucky couple. He’s in his late forties, tall and dressed in cargos; she can't be a day older than thirty, maybe even younger. Short, athletic similar to a long-distance runner; tenacious, lean muscles. Except for the hat, she’s dressed in jeans, denim shirt, a quilted rust colored jacket and a pair of boots. What catches his eye is how worn and pale she looks. The shadows under her eyes tattles that she hasn’t slept for a long time, may need to eat, or even have a cold. At that moment she puts her fingers in the corners of her mouths and whistles loudly. The sharp sound bounces over the desolated road, against the buildings. As on command the back door of an abandoned pickup opens further afield. At first he’s sure it’s an ambush. The next second, and he can hardly believe his eyes, a boy, no more than three or four years old, with long, blonde hair, climbs out of the back seat and runs towards them. He carries a walkman and a pair of headphones in his small hands. A small backpack bounces on his back as he scurries up to them, where he clings to the women's jeans, seemingly calm, curious even with the two newcomers. The extra weight the boy puts on her, while clinging to her right leg, seems to make her sway on the spot.

”He’s yours?”

What a stupid question; the only difference is the blonde hair, unlike hers. Otherwise, he’s a copy of his mother.  

”He is.”

She looks at the boy, then back at Daryl. The gaze is steady, alert; like a she-wolf watching its cub. The boy tugs at his mother’s jacket. She looks at him and shakes her head lightly, making the long hair sway.  

”Schh. I can’t carry you.” she whispers towards him and turns her head towards them. ”As I said, we better get out of here.” she repeats and squeezes the boy’s small hand, while giving Morgan a glance. ”It's dusk soon.”

”Oh, but we have good news!” Aaron exclaims; the former politician returns to his role, in the hunt for voters and supporters. Or in this case, survivors to join them. ”We have a community not far from here. Walls, electricity, it’s really safe. If you’d like to come with us…”

They expect them to look overwhelmed. Maybe surprised even. Instead, Morgan shakes his head and politely abrupts Aaron.

”No, thank you. We’re on our way somewhere.” Morgan nods towards Mila and the boy, whose big blue eyes are pasted on Daryl and the crossbow in his hand.

”Though we are a bit lost-” Morgan continues, starts to search through the pockets of his jacket. ”If you could tell me where we are.”

From the beige weather jacket he takes a folded map, which he hands over to Daryl. He takes it. It’s well-used, worn and stained. Over the big blue field that is the Atlantic, next to the east coast, someone has written a message in blue ink. His eyes are drawn to a certain part of the message. He looks at Morgan, back at the message. ’Sorry, I was an asshole. Come to Washington. The new world’s gonna need Rick Grimes’. Once again he looks up at Morgan. What does this mean? He knows Rick?  

”Ya’ know Rick? Rick Grimes?”

”Well, yes.” Morgan's eyes wander between him and Aaron. ”Do you?”

”He’s with us.” Daryl returns the map. ”Back at Alexandria.”

Morgan and Mila look at each other. The man seems not to believe his ears, whereupon he declares that he found the map at a church, with Rick's name on it.

”That's where I met Mila, and Juri. We decided to stick together, go to Washington.”

”Well, he aint there.”

That’s when the situation, once again, changes rapidly, in a matter of seconds. The pale woman’s pupils dilates, as if a curtain is drawn in front of her, and she collapses on the ground in front of them.

”Mila!”

Morgan throws himself down next to her, followed by Aaron who takes the boy by the arm and pulls him over. Daryl gets down on one knee next to her; while Morgan pats her on the cheek, calling her name, Daryl places the back of his hand against her forehead, while his eyes searches for the cause of this.

”Mila, Mila!”

”She’s burning up.” Daryl states. ”When did you last eat?”

”A couple of hours ago.” Morgan says, and for the first time since they met him, he looks afraid. ”She didn't eat much though. I don’t understand.”

”What’s wrong with her?” Aaron’s eyes are worried. ”Is she hurt?”

Like on command, Daryl once again searches her with his eyes, from top to bottom. She starts to move, or rather shivers with chills, while grunting, like in pain. She has a fever and is pale like a sheet.

”She’s wounded or something? Sick?”

”I don't think so. Don't know. She hasn't said anything.” Morgan meets his gaze. ”We were assaulted yesterday, the same group that trapped you I believe. But we disarmed them.”

That's when Daryl’s eyes are drawn to the tank top; it looks bulky at the stomach, as if it were too much fabric at that particular spot, and in addition, the entire middle part of the garment is somewhat stained, wet even. Without warning, Daryl lifts the top. What’s underneath causes Aaron to put his hands in front of the boy's eyes; it’s not a pretty sight.

”All life is precious, my ass-” Daryl takes a deep breath and sighs. This ain’t good. ”Son of a bitch.”

Her midsection is wrapped in three layers of gaffer tape with pieces of grey cloths, soaked in blood. The skin is swollen and shifts in a palette of red, purple and blue.

”I had no idea.” Morgan exclaims.

”Well, now ya’ do.” Daryl sputters and takes out his knife. ”Gotta remove this. Hold her.”

While Morgan tries to get a word from Mila, Daryl cuts the tape and carefully lifts the bloody pieces of grey melange fabric, seemingly what once was a t-shirt. It’s worse than he thought. A gash, from what looks like a sharp object, like a machete, runs from navel to rib cage, is stapled with a staples gun and leeks fluid. The fact that the wound is stapled and that Morgan had no idea she was hurt, makes it even more bizarre; did she staple herself?

”Gotta get her to Alexandria.” Daryl says. ”She needs a medic.”

Without waiting for an answer, as if there was time for it, Daryl lifts her off the ground. If he, or they, doesn’t act quickly, she’ll die. And considering the boy- she quips when Daryl adjusts her in his arms, most likely in pain; that she was able to walk around an entire day, and ward off walkers with that wound; impressive, but incredibly foolish. How much blood has she lost by now? What was she thinking? That staples and gaffer tape would do the trick? It’s like a goddamn scrapbooking project. She ain’t no surgeon, that’s for sure. Morgan collects their belongings; backpacks and weapons, Aaron takes the boy, who hasn’t said a word during the entire time, in his arms and they start scudding back toward Alexandria.

(I’ll be posting part 2 asap)

[the-wlw-cafe]

Family Matters (Lena Luthor & Daughter!Reader)

Request: Lena’s daughter comes back from the future, but Lena is having trouble accepting that she is her daughter because of her own insecurities regarding family

Fandom: Supergirl

Warnings: /

Word Count: 2279 (holy moly this one got away from me)

Time travel, you come to realize quickly, is a painful and exhausting affair. Just imagine your body, your atoms, your thoughts, restrained by some kind of invisible force, being rendered still while years and a decade of time condensed to a single moment screech past you like a high-speed train through a tunnel. Colours burst behind your eyes and your ears ring with every sound at once, and you feel like you’re dying.

Then, as abruptly as it started, it stops. The noise breaks off so suddenly you wonder if you’ve gone deaf, but then, a familiar woman’s voice rings out: “You really shouldn’t be here!”

It didn’t work.

That’s the first thought that pops into your head. It didn’t work, it was all for nothing, and now you’re going to be in so much trouble. Also, you have the feeling you might faint very soon.

“Mom?” you ask, your voice trembling. You try to blink in the direction of the voice, but the afterimage of whatever it was you saw while traveling seems to have been burned into your retinas, leaving dark blots in your vision.

You hear steps, and the voice is closer this time and softer, the tone less alarmed. “Are you lost, sweetheart? Do you need me to find someone for you?”

“Mom, I’m sorry I used your –“

That’s as far as you get before your knees give out. You barely have time to brace yourself for the impact on the hard, cold, sterile tiles lining the floor. The pain never comes. Steady arms catch you before you reach the ground, holding you secure. You can hear her speak, ask you questions, but you can’t make sense of the words. You feel like you’ll vomit if you open your mouth. You feel her slowly, and gently placing you down on the ground, propping you up onto your side.

Time passes.

You think you can hear her talk again, the words fading in and out of dull static like a radio with a broken antenna: “I’m not hurt…they just appeared out of nowhere…might be concussed…Kara, they keep calling me mom…”

Later, you’re being picked up again, cradled in strong arms, and there’s the howling of wind in your ears. You know this feeling. Kara has taken you out for semi-secret flights more than once, even though your mom didn’t initially approve. Kara, you think, and instinctively burrow deeper into her arms. You’re safe. Mom’s here, Kara is here, and you’re safe.

Then there’s nothing for a long time.

When you wake up, you’re somewhere warm, soft and bright. You blink against the light and sit up cautiously. It doesn’t hurt. You’re still exhausted, you feel like your mind has run a marathon, but other than that you’re okay. As soon as you’ve managed to prop yourself up on your elbows, there’s a gentle but insistent hand on your shoulder pushing you back down.

“Take it easy there, kiddo.”

You grin at the woman, who you’ve instantly recognized as Aunt Alex, and your grin widens when you see the two people behind her: Kara, and your mom.

“I’m fine, Alex” you try to reassure her, only to watch her gape at you in utter confusion. Kara’s and mom’s expressions soon come to mirror hers.

“How do you know my name?” she asks, forehead crinkled.

Oh. So it did work. You really did travel back in time, back to when you weren’t even born yet. Now that you know, it seems obvious to you: They all seem younger, the bags under Kara’s eyes aren’t so deep, and the grey streaks in your mom’s hair are missing.

“Okay, don’t freak out, you guys”, you start, already knowing that they were going to freak out. “But my name is (Y/F/N) Luthor, and I’m from the future, and…” you turn to look at your mom, she’s gone even paler than she already is, and she’s shaking her head almost imperceptibly.

“…and you’re my mom.”

The news drops into the room like a grenade. You can see Kara hide a gasp behind a hand quickly clasped over her mouth; you can see Alex try and fail to school her expression in order to not let on just how surprised she is. But worst of all, you can see your mom’s face turn to stone, cold and unmoving. And it hurts, oh, does it hurt. You’ve never seen her look at you like this before, like you’re some alien thing she doesn’t even recognize. Whenever you’ve looked into her eyes you’ve found nothing but love there, even when you messed up bad, even when she was upset with you, but now…there’s just none of that there. It makes you shrink back into your bed.

“We’re going to have to ask you some more questions and probably do some testing, just to be on the safe side”, Alex tells you. You just nod. You feel so tired all of a sudden, so small and lost in a world that isn’t yours. You close your eyes again and hope this is all a bad dream.

It isn’t, of course. You sit through Aunt Ale- no, just Alex’s tests. They don’t find anything physically wrong with you, and the dizziness and nausea are abating slowly.

“Do you know how to get back?” Alex asks you, the worried crinkle between her brows not having left for a second while she was tending to you. You nod.

“The prototype has a safety net function. It pulls you back into your time automatically if you don’t return in three days. I heard mom…I heard Lena mention it when she showed off her time machine to Kara.”

“(Y/N), you can’t just mess with one of Lena’s inventions, especially if it’s just a prototype. You could get seriously hurt! What if the safety net doesn’t work and you become stuck here?”

“I won’t”, you reply, your voice sure and steady as stone. “Mo- Lena is too smart to forget to add the function. And I wasn’t just messing around with the time machine!” you add as you see Alex get ready to argue. “I have a mission.”

Alex looks aghast. “Who would send a child on a mission to the past?!” she exclaims.

“Myself! I have a message for Lena. It’s really important.”

“Oh, sweetheart”, Alex says in the tone adults reserve for telling children that their pet just died. “I don’t think Lena is…in the right headspace to talk to you.”

You swallow. You know it’s not fair to this Lena, you have no right to her time, but the way she can’t even stand to be in the same room with you…does this mean you were not wanted? Did she hate the idea of you and just force herself to stick around because you were her responsibility? You can feel tears burn in your eyes.

“It’s important though!” you hear yourself whining. You know how childish you must sound, and you cringe a t the thought.

Alex looks at you, contemplating. “Can I just pass the message on for you?”

You shake your head. “It’s personal.”

A deep sigh. Then: “I’ll bring you to her so you can deliver your important message, but I can’t guarantee she’ll want to listen, alright?”

“Thank you, Alex”, you say, fighting the urge to hug her. This is not your Aunt Alex, you have to remind yourself. “Can we pick up spring rolls and curry sauce from the Chinese place on 27th? They’re her favourite, and I think it should…exist already.”

“Okay, kiddo”, Alex says as you’re about to enter L-Corp. “If this goes poorly, I need you to know…Lena doesn’t hate you, and I know the Lena you know as your mom loves you very, very much. She’s just overwhelmed, and to be honest…I think she’s scared.”

“Of me?” you balk.

“Not of you, squirt. I think she’s scared of being a bad parent.”

“She’s not”, you insist.

“I know, kiddo, but our fears aren’t always rational.”

Security lets Alex through without raising a fuss, but you get a lot of curious looks. You wave at Jess at the reception desk before you realize that she doesn’t know you yet, and she’s never secretly passed you cookies when mom wasn’t looking yet.

Jess lets you through anyways. Lena greets Alex with a tired smile, and you try to remind yourself that she doesn’t hate you, she’s just scared, but it’s hard to believe it when you see that smile drop as soon as Lena lays eyes on you.

“Kiddo has something important to tell you”, Alex tells her, “we won’t take up much of your time, but…hear her out, okay? I’m just going to wait outside.”

You watch as Alex leaves the room, and nerves threaten to take you over again. It’s ridiculous, this is your own mom, you shouldn’t be nervous to talk to her!

“I brought you spring rolls”, is all you manage to say.

“I don’t eat fast food”, Lena answers, and her voice sounds practiced, almost robotic. She’s shuffling some documents around on her desk to avoid eye contact with you.

“That’s not true!” You flinch at the volume of your own voice. “You always eat fast food when Kara brings some by your office, and you also don’t complain during game night when all we have is pizza!”

Lena’s fingers stop fidgeting with the paperwork. There’s a moment of complete silence.

“You really are my daughter.” It’s not a question. It sounds like resignation. Your heart sinks into your stomach.

“I’m sorry that’s not what you wanted”, you whisper. Lena whips around so fast you freeze where you stand before you can even turn to leave.

“(Y/N), that’s not…I just…” Another pause. Lena pinches the bridge of her nose.

“The truth is, (Y/N)… I’m terrified.”

“Of me?”

She heaves a sigh, and finally turns to face you. She looks old, older than your mum, even without the grey streaks in her hair and crow’s feet around her eyes.

“Come sit on the sofa with me?”

She doesn’t need to ask twice, you immediately clamber onto the pristine white couch (so that’s what it looked like without the various crayon stains you had made when you were a toddler and your mom had given up on cleaning, opting instead to just cover them with decorative pillows). You’re sitting about as far from one another as is physically possible on this couch, but at least Lena’s acknowledging you, facing you. You’re getting somewhere.

“(Y/N), I don’t know what your mom told- what I will have told you about my parents, but the Luthors were terrible people, and even worse parents. I can’t remember any happy days under their roof, I can’t – I don’t think there was one moment where I wasn’t depressed, or terrified, or ashamed of my mistakes or myself while I was in their care and I’m just so scared that in the end, I turned out no different than they were because I don’t know anything else. And I’m so, so sorry if I was a bad mom to you, if I was ever neglectful or aloof, and you have every right to be mad at me –“

You scoot towards her and hug her. Of course you know who mom’s family are, even if she hadn’t told you, the rest of the world was sure not to let you forget, and even though you didn’t know any details you were aware of how terrible your mother’s childhood had been, so it’s important to you that your mom doesn’t for one second longer think that she’s anything like the people who abused her throughout her childhood and well into adulthood.

“I love you”, you murmur into the embrace. “And you’re nothing like them. You’ve always protected me and no matter how busy you were; you were always there for me when I needed you. And you tell me about your work and show me your newest inventions and you weren’t even angry with me when I spilt a glass of apple juice over your transistor!”

You hear her sniffle as she hugs you tight. Her voice is hoarse when she speaks next: “I was terrified that you’d come to tell me what a horrible parent I was, and how selfish it was of me to decide to have children.”

“You’re the best mom I could have hoped for”, you reassure her. But her words remind you that you are indeed here for a reason.

“Do you want to know why I’m really here?”

She lets go of you with a final squeeze, wiping tears off of her cheeks, carefully leaving her makeup intact.

“Of course. You’re not in trouble in the future, are you?” For the first time since you arrived in this time, she reminds you of your mom. You can’t help but smile widely at the sight.

“No, it’s nothing like that. The government is putting together a team to engineer a cure for cancer once and for all, but you weren’t on the team because you gave up on your cancer research years ago, but you looked so defeated when you talked about it… I just wanted to tell you not to give up, and that you’re going to do lots of great stuff in the future!”

“Cancer research, huh? With all that’s happened, I didn’t think it would be curing cancer I’d become most famous for. But I’m glad. Thank you, sweetheart.”

You beam at her, proudly.

“Can we eat spring rolls now?”

“We certainly can. I’ve actually never had these, where are they from?”

“Oh, you’re going to love them!”

[beca-mitchell]

we are the wild youth (1/5)

summary:  Beca needs some money to get out of Barden as quickly as possible. It just so happens that an opportunity all but drops in her lap: one Chloe Beale, desperately in need of a tutor to pass her last two classes to graduate.

Warnings for smut and angst and drama. Mainly smut. Rated M/E.

chapter one:  fever dream high

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

word count: 3,178

Rated M/E for depictions of coitus. This fic is an AU imagining of PP somewhat: Beca never joins the Bellas and is somewhat of a nerd, Chloe still stays back an extra three years, and there's backstory that was never part of the PP universe. But otherwise, it is set at Barden, Beca still loves music.

Fic title from “Youth” by Daughter. Chapter title from “Cruel Summer” by Taylor Swift. This fic is based on this gifset.

Read below or on AO3.

Beca just wants to graduate.

The deal she cut with her father is not the best deal in the world, but to him, a degree means something. Something meaningful. Meaningful enough that he’s willing to help her get the fuck out of Atlanta and move to New York. That kind of meaningful.

So in that sense, her degree is meaningful to her too. No time for fucking around.

But, senior year kind of means that she can start to take it easy. She’s almost there. She just needs to continue keeping her guard up long enough to ensure that Jesse still gets the hint she’s not interested in him and she just needs to pass.

Hence why this beginning-of-year party is an anomaly, but she’ll take it if there’s free alcohol and maybe the chance to unwind. Bedmate optional.

Beca isn’t one for parties. Definitely not one for house parties at a frat house.

She supposes these are the people who will end up playing her music in the future, however. Peering around, she grimaces at the very-near-public sex happening right on a couch that looks a little too used. A little too comfortable.

Start-of-term parties are always memorable in their own way. They’re almost formulaic in a sense. Guy gets girl, something valuable will be broken—maybe a television, maybe a heart—and something will go wrong.

Beca likes observing all of this from the outskirts while Jesse, who is the only person daring enough to drag her out of her apartment, floats away like the social butterfly he is.

It’s not that she hates parties, nor is she a recluse, Beca is just kind of tired of college at this point. She had promised her parents at least two years in college before she could head out to Los Angeles and really fulfill her dreams, but it turns out that she kind of needs money for that. Money which she doesn’t really have even if she’s been saving up pennies and quarters since middle school.

School is a safety net. She’s been told that all her life, with no small measure of patronization.

It also kind of sucks that Beca inherited at least a portion of her father’s intelligence. The daughter of a professor? There was no way he was letting her leave Barden without at least degree. Realistically, she inherited his knack for school because she’s kind of good at it. Physics, at least, hasn’t been a problem. Or Calculus.

It’s just fucking boring and she doesn’t even intend on using her degree. And she only chose something deeply rooted in science and math because she thought it would piss him off.

Many errors have been made. Miscalculated, even. Or perhaps more on point, horribly erroneous like a series of wrong notes in the middle of a symphony.

Beca could go on.

She can hear her father’s voice, somehow cutting through the raucous party and lodging deep in her head: “But your little music gigs, Beca? It’s a hobby. Science and math? That’ll get you jobs.” Then in the same breath, without fail: “It’s what your mother would want.”

The forced reminder makes Beca take another swig of cheap beer before she makes her way over to the keg for more. As she turns the corner, she stumbles, bumping into a shockingly solid body. As she drops her thankfully-empty cup, she reaches up to grab on to the arms that have come around her back to steady her.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, lifting her gaze to make some kind of eye contact when she realizes the body she’s pressed against doesn’t belong to yet another generic frat boy. Instead, she feels soft, feminine curves and the slightest hint of firm muscle beneath the fabric of a thin leather jacket.

Shockingly blue eyes stare back at her. “Hi,” she greets.

“Hi,” Beca replies, still stunned. “Um,” she steps back from the stranger’s space. Or...somewhat of a stranger would be a more apt descriptor. She would be remiss if she didn’t acknowledge that she just nearly bowled over Chloe Beale whose last name just happens to be on at least two buildings around school. Chloe Beale who is devastatingly pretty with blue eyes to die for and red hair and a burning smile.

Chloe Beale who is staring at her like she’s seeing her for the first time.

(She probably is.)

“Beca, right?”

Beca swallows. “I—yeah. How…?” Beca shakes her head. “Sorry, I’m not usually this horribly awkward.”

Chloe smiles. “How are you, usually, then? Other than being the most talented radio host Barden has ever had.”

It’s the oddest interaction to be having with a stranger in the middle of a house party. Beca can barely hear her own thoughts.

Chloe seems to read her mind. “Want to go somewhere quieter?”

Beca has never agreed to a cliche more quickly in her life.

- - x - - 

It doesn’t take long—in fact, Beca barely gets out the question “How do you know my name?” before Chloe is in her space and pulling her in for a bruising kiss. Beca’s body immediately thrums with excitement and repressed energy and she quickly pushes back at Chloe, determined to at least put up some small measure of a fight against Chloe’s immediate dominance over her.

But she quickly realizes that it feels so much better, letting Chloe take control like this—Chloe whom Beca had no idea even knew she existed, let alone wanted to hook up with her.

Chloe’s breath is hot against her neck while she holds Beca against the dresser. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, Mitchell,” she breathes, voice dripping with promise and pure want.

Beca’s brain short-circuits then, a symphony of jangled notes and endless crescendos. She can only nod weakly, hands scrabbling up Chloe’s back and pulling at the thing fabric of her shirt uselessly before she grabs onto Chloe’s hair and pulls her in for another kiss.

Chloe groans and pushes back against Beca, tilting her further over the dresser and displacing bottles of cologne and accessories. Strong hands grab at her thighs and force her legs apart so Chloe’s hips can settle more firmly between Beca’s legs. The action alone sends shockwaves up Beca’s brain. Beca, who is no stranger to sex, realizes that she has never felt such strong arousal from just kissing before.

“Are we going to have sex?” Beca asks before she can help herself. She immediately regrets the question when it leaves her mouth. “Because I want to,” she says quickly before she loses it or before Chloe thinks that she’s having doubts. She isn’t. It’s just overwhelming, being so taken and consumed by a girl she barely knows.

Not for lack of trying, Beca supposes.

Of course, Beca has a stupid crush on Chloe Beale. It seemed like most people did, somehow. Chloe, popular by virtue of her wealth but also mysterious and aloof disposition, never seemed to be short on suitors.

A small measure of pride wells up in Beca before it is immediately replaced by a swooping tightening in her belly as Chloe’s teeth nip harshly at her neck. With the amount of suitors Chloe frequently wards off (and the smaller number that she seems to allow close to her), Beca assesses that it would also appear that Chloe didn’t need any encouraging at all. Much less direction.

Before Beca manages even a measly gasp or even a weak tug to Chloe’s hair, Chloe’s hands are already greedily grabbing at her hips, pushing and pulling at the fabric impatiently for a moment or so, getting a good grope in, before her fingers deftly find the button of Beca’s jeans.

Beca sucks in a breath.

It takes a moment, but Chloe pauses, lifting her head from her assault on Beca’s neck. Her eyes, dark and blown with desire, flicker with something nearly unrecognizable.

Beca’s eyes drift back down to Chloe’s lips in the ensuing silence.

“You’ve never had sex with a girl before, have you?” Chloe asks.

Beca blushes immediately, averting her eyes for a brief second before Chloe tilts her chin back up to catch her lips in a sweeping, full, wet kiss. It’s more romantic than it has any business being. Beca moans against her own will, lifting her hips up almost impatiently against Chloe’s still hand. She is so conscious of the ache between her legs. So conscious of how her previous encounters with men left her wanting and dissatisfied. Not all the time, but more often than not.

How she had always imagined what it would be like with a woman.

Chloe, maybe. Chloe, specifically. Chloe, who had occasionally seeped into her thoughts based on the occasional classes they shared together. Chloe, who ran around the track almost every morning, visible from Beca’s dorm window. Chloe, who had smiled at her just briefly from across the quad at the activities fair all those years ago and Beca hd simply just turned away—

Chloe, who is pressed against her, lips swollen from the force of their shared kisses.

Lips swollen from Beca.

“Beca?” Chloe asks, referring to Beca by her first name for the first time all evening.

“Yeah,” Beca rasps, hot against her newfound lover’s mouth.

It takes a few seconds for Beca to process sudden emptiness she feels—a lack of warmth, really—but she realizes belatedly that it is because Chloe is on her knees, pulling Beca’s jeans down her trembling legs. When Chloe looks up at her, fluttering long eyelashes, Beca feels an answering gush between her legs.

Fuck, Beca thinks with every last primal instinct coursing through her. Fuck me. She reaches out instinctively to thread her fingers through Chloe’s hair, swallowing at how natural it feels to tangle her hands in another girl’s hair. To enjoy it so much.

Chloe says nothing while she helps Beca step out of her jeans. The movements, though gentle and slow, do nothing to ease the growing tension gnawing at her stomach. She clenches again involuntarily and moans in response to her own actions causing Chloe to look up from where she still kneels in front of Beca.

For a moment, Beca feels powerful.

Then, Chloe’s fingertips gently hook into the elastic waistband of Beca’s underwear.

“Tell me how hard you want me to fuck you, Beca Mitchell,” Chloe murmurs, her voice permeating the thick fog of Beca’s brain. It almost stuns Beca into silence, but she realizes that what she wants even more than LA at that moment is Chloe’s fingers between her legs. Her tongue maybe. Lips. Beca’s hands through her hair, tangled all night.

The possibilities are seemingly endless.

“Hard,” she chokes out. “Just fuck me hard.”

Blue eyes flash with delight and the promise of everything to come.

- - x - -

She does come. Multiple times that night against the dresser. Then again when she invites Chloe back to her apartment. Against her own front door. In her bed, testing the strength of her boxspring mattress.

But none of that matters—what matters is how breathtaking Chloe looks when Beca unravels her. Breathless in her own way. Possessing Beca’s bed like she has nowhere else she’d rather be. The unmistakable tremble as Beca’s fingers sink into tight, wet heat. Choked off moans against Beca’s mouth.

And as Beca falls asleep, tired and spent, she thinks vaguely of the flash of red hair that fateful day at the activities fair. How she had pointedly avoided the pretty girl with blue eyes and red hair.

It feels like regret, chasing her into her dreams.

- - x - -

Beca isn’t one to dwell on things, however. She has no time for that kind of distraction, even if that distraction is the pleasant, fleeting sensation of Chloe’s lips pressing against the curve of her shoulder as she slips into a waking state.

There is something incredibly tender about the way Chloe’s fingers comb through her hair as she whispers a murmured goodbye into Beca’s ear. Her lips graze the sensitive skin on the shell of her ear, seeping into the peripheries of Beca’s dreaming state.

It feels like a dream, at least. All of it. Unattainable, super-senior Chloe Beale.

When Beca wakes up again, her bed is cold and empty and she’s pretty sure the aches coursing through her body have nothing to do with alcohol.

She peers blearily at her phone, unfortunately uncharged and nearly dead, and startles upon seeing that it is half past ten and she’s meant to meet a new student at eleven. She jolts out of bed and right into the shower, regrettably washing off all the remaining memories from the previous night. As she reaches between her own legs, she puffs out a heavy breath and tries not to think about how sure Chloe’s hands felt on her body the night before.

This new student is a special request from the Dean of Students himself, sent her way by her father. She had protested, barely, but the pretty monetary figure that had slid across her gaze had been enough to hold her attention.

“Just twice a week for the year. Both semesters. This student needs to pass,” her father emphasizes.

“Who is this student,” Beca demands, tucking the form into her jacket pocket. “Another entitled rich kid?”

Her father pinches his nose. “Look, I recommended you directly to Dean Sanders the moment I heard about this request. It’s from a special benefactor to the school and I know how much you need the money to go to L.A..”

“I wanted to go to L.A. three years ago.”

“Do you not want to go anymore?”

Beca bites her tongue to stop from saying anything else and looks away.

“I know you’re an adult, Becs, but I have your best interests in mind. I just want to see you try. If you do this, I’ll double what the benefactor pays you. I’ll match it and double it.”

Beca can hardly believe her ears. It’s a lot of money. Enough to be considered “safe”, even. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Beca nearly trips multiple times on the way to the diner—an odd background for a tutoring session—but she somehow makes it there with a minute to spare. She realizes she has no idea who she’s even meeting with and slowly slides into the closest booth, keeping an eye out for anybody who looks especially lost.

She sits uncertainly for at least fifteen minutes, downs an entire cup of coffee, and fends off awkward inquiries from the server before she pulls out her phone intent on calling her father and giving him a piece of her mind. On cue, she gets a text.

Unknown Hey, my dad gave me this number. You’re my tutor, right? Rebecca? lol

Beca groans.

Beca hey, yep i’m your tutor. I’m at Carl’s, just got a booth at the back

The door jingles somewhere in the background and Beca glances up to meet Chloe Beale’s gaze dead-on.

“You’re fucking joking,” Beca mutters.

Chloe, for her part, does not look pleased at all as she tosses her bag into the booth before sliding in across from Beca.

“Small world,” Chloe comments.

“You’re telling me.”

Chloe looks like she might say something else and Beca braces herself for the potential innuendo or lust-laden comment, but nothing comes. Instead, Chloe simply folds her hands and watches Beca intently, looking every bit like an innocent college student with a desire to pass her class.

Beca’s gaze flickers down to the neatly folded fingers.

When she looks back up, Chloe’s expression morphs into one that makes Beca swallow nervously.

“Are you nervous?” Chloe asks. “It’s just me,” she says in a tone that implies that she knows exactly what inappropriate thoughts are floating through Beca’s mind.

Beca ignores that, both the words and the tone Chloe uses, and pulls out her notebook and binder. “You’re in calculus two...then statistics next semester?” Chloe nods. “Those are usually first-year requirements, how are you getting away with this? Is this a pre-med degree?”

Chloe smiles—a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “When your father’s name is on the school’s med school building, you kind of get things handed to you no matter how much you want to fight it. I can only control so much.”

Beca scoffs before she can help herself. “Well, I don’t know if that’s entirely true. I think that there are things out of our control sometimes, but there are definitely things within our control.” Like leaving calculus and statistics until the end. Like sleeping together and wanting to do it again, but resisting.

Chloe gazes at her with renewed interest. “You’re a tutor, huh?”

“Looks like it.”

“And my dad hired you.”

Beca shrugs. “Kind of...so I guess your dad will kill me in front of the entire student body if we don’t do this.” She clicks her pen. “Come on, show me your assignments.”

“I really don’t want to do what he wants,” Chloe says, fluttering her eyes at Beca. “Want to do something else instead?”

Beca scowls. “I’m your tutor, whether you like it or not.”

“Fuck that.”

Beca tries not to smile at that. Chloe has such a pleasant speaking voice and a generally pleasant expression on her face at all times that it isn’t hard to see why she’s probably one of the most well-liked people on campus. So well-liked that it is often overlooked that she’s going for a third round of her senior year.

Still, professionalism. Beca can do that, kind of. She tutored worse people in high school. “Let’s get this over with, okay?”

It is entirely the wrong thing to say. Chloe’s smile widens and she leans forward, her shoulders hunched like a predator just about to pounce. “That’s not what you were saying last night.”

“I...oh my God.” Beca purses her lips and looks around hurriedly before settling on the glass of water to her side. Grabbing it, she sips it delicately for a few long moments while avoiding Chloe’s gaze and quenching the sudden dryness in her throat.

The cool water sliding down her throat is a nice thing to focus on.

She’s not focusing on anything else. Not the phantom sensation of Chloe’s hands ghosting up her sides. Not the phantom sensation of Chloe making her hold on to her own headboard. Not the phantom sensation of Chloe’s lips against her thighs, leaving marks and hot, wet kisses.

Not the very real sensation from Chloe’s eyes boring a hole into her forehead, like she can see right into the recesses of Beca’s minds. Every last dark, lustful thought.

But the moment ends before Beca can really process everything, like how part of her wants to shove everything off the table so she can climb over and straddle Chloe’s lap.

Chloe sighs, opens her textbook, and points out the series of problems she has to complete for the week. “There,” she mutters.

Math—math, Beca can do. Calculus. Statistics.

Chloe, not so much.

(Even though she already did.)

/end chap. 1

read the rest: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

[angelofthequeers]

Hold Me By Both Hands: Chapter 48

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

@smolplantmum tagged as requested :)

Chapter 47 | Chapter 49 | AO3 link

As they bound through Paris, Ladybug prays to the heavens that Hawkmoth and Phantom haven’t yet found Master Fu, so that she can warn him and make sure he’s safe. But unfortunately, for the avatar of luck, she seems to be pretty damn unlucky when it counts.

“No,” she moans when they land in front of Master Fu’s place and are greeted with the sight of the door hanging off its hinges. “They got here first. Of course they did!”

“Hey.” Noir grabs her hand and squeezes. The leather is warm and familiar, but…he’s still not Chat. “We’ll stop them, alright? We’ll save Master Fu and Adrien.”

“If Hawkmoth thinks he’s gonna get away with doing this to my bro, he’s got another thing coming,” Carapace says. The dangerous fury on his face is a look that Ladybug hopes to never again see from Nino Lahiffe, lest she have nightmares for the rest of her life.

“I’ll go first,” she says. “Noir, cover me. Everyone else, be ready to act.”

Unslinging her yo-yo, Ladybug sidles into the massage parlour with Noir at her side, his baton ready to strike any potential threat. The entrance of the building is empty and eerie, and it takes every scrap of willpower to not jump every time she or Noir takes a breath and fills the silence with the whoosh of air. But as they approach the main room of the parlour, the sound of voices wafts out from behind the ajar door, and Ladybug immediately halts and holds her hand up to stop Noir.

“…only a matter of time,” says a chillingly familiar voice. Ladybug suppresses the urge to shiver at Hawkmoth’s deep, lulling tones that have convinced so many in Paris to accept his devil deals. “The others will soon arrive to save the great Guardian and then all the Miraculouses will be mine. Especially the Ladybug and Black Cat. Imagine my surprise when my chosen wielder attempted to use the Peacock and discovered that it was a fake! And then I find it here, repaired in your Miracle Box, and I realise that my son being one of my mortal enemies explains a lot!”

There’s a thump, followed by a low groan from Master Fu. Gritting her teeth, Ladybug digs her fingers into her spandex-covered forearms to prevent herself from bursting in there and ruining everything, but it’s not enough to stop the rush of hot hatred that surges through her. Not only is Hawkmoth willing to hurt his own son, but he’s also perfectly fine with beating up an old man!

“You are overconfident, Hawkmoth,” Master Fu says with a pained chuckle. “You think you can really defeat Ladybug and Chat Noir? Perhaps if you’d had the assistance of the Peacock –”

“Your eyesight must be failing you, old man. Chat Noir is here, serving me as my akuma. Without him, Ladybug stands no chance. And I can just grab the Peacock now and give it to my chosen wielder. You must be going senile if you think I didn’t bring backup.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. The bond between a Ladybug and Black Cat can overcome more than you think.”

Ladybug squeals when arms clamp around her from behind, and she immediately starts to struggle against the iron-tight grip around her. Who’d grabbed her? Is it Phantom? No, the arms that are hauling her into the room are…leather-clad. Noir? What is he doing?

“Ah, Ladybug, right on time.” A triumphant smile spreads across Hawkmoth’s face. On the floor behind him is Master Fu, with the contents of the Miracle Box scattered around him…but no one else? Where’s Phantom? “Excellent work, my son.”

“Noir! What are you doing?” Ladybug cranes her neck to look up at Noir, and her stomach drops in horror upon seeing that his green cat eyes are now pure white and blank. Oh. Oh no. Plagg had warned them – he’d said that Phantom had the power of possession – why hadn’t she thought of that, she’s an idiot, and now she’s handed Hawkmoth their Miraculouses on a silver platter –

“As you can see, old man,” Hawkmoth says, his eyes glittering, “your precious bond is nowhere near enough to stop my son from obeying his father.”

“You’re a disgusting excuse for a parent,” Ladybug spits. She tries to wriggle out of Noir’s grip, but Phantom seems to have retained all his memories of her fighting style, because he doesn’t give her any opening at all. “How dare you? How dare you torment and akumatise Adrien and still call him your son?”

“I wouldn’t have needed to do so if you had given me your Miraculouses!” The gleam in Hawkmoth’s eyes is so unsettling that Ladybug’s stomach lurches, because just how far has Gabriel Agreste fallen in his mad pursuit to heal his wife? How much had his time as the Collector, without the safety net of the Butterfly, affected him? “Adrien won’t remember a thing. Once I have your Miraculouses, I can make my wish and he’ll forget that he was ever Chat Noir in the first place!”

“That’s not how it works!” Ladybug says. “What if Adrien is the one you sacrifice? You can’t control the price you pay for making the wish!”

“I’ll sacrifice myself! So long as Adrien has his mother back, nothing else matters!”

“And then what? You’ll leave him without a father? The universe will shift to accommodate your wish, Gabriel Agreste! How do you know that there won’t be another Hawkmoth? That Adrien’s mother won’t take on the mantle to bring you back? You can’t tamper with the cycle of the universe!”

“Enough!” Hawkmoth jabs his cane at Ladybug with a snarl. “You’re a child! You know nothing of love or pain!”

“I know enough to know that Adrien would be traumatised if he was aware of what you were doing.” Ladybug’s voice cracks with the tears she’s trying to hold back, because no way in hell is she going to show weakness in front of this pile of trash. “Was it worth it, Gabriel Agreste? Was it worth torturing him by showing him his mother? By tormenting him until he was vulnerable enough for you to akumatise? Even if you do make your wish, can you really live with yourself, knowing what you did to your own –”

White-hot pain explodes across Ladybug’s face, and she reflexively lets out a cry and tries to reach up to cradle her throbbing, burning cheek before remembering that she’s currently being held captive by both her partners in one.

“Silence!” Hawkmoth’s hand, inches from Ladybug’s face, trembles madly. “You – you dare stand there and judge me, when you have no idea –”

A flash of green cuts Hawkmoth off, sending him reeling backwards with a gurgle. At the same time, there’s a crack behind Ladybug, and Noir staggers and his grip loosens just enough for her to wriggle free and whip her yo-yo from around her waist.

“Nice hit, Carapace,” she pants, hopping backwards to join her teammates. Carapace once more gives his terrifying smile.

“Most satisfying thing I’ve done in my life, dudette,” he says.

“Alright, everyone.” Ladybug narrows her eyes at Hawkmoth. “Take him down. And try not to hurt Noir or Adrien.”

“Cataclysm.” Phantom cradles his sparking hand with a twisted smile. It’s such an Adrien smile, such a Chat Noir smile, even though it’s on Luka’s face and corrupted, and for a moment, Ladybug can’t breathe. But then Phantom’s diving at her and she’s forced to duck out of the way, grab him by the arm, and slam him into the floor, then force his sparking hand against a nearby chest of drawers to nullify his Cataclysm. A moment later, Phantom sags underneath her.

“L-Ladybug?” he rasps. Ladybug’s stomach jolts when he looks over his shoulder and she’s met with hazy, confused green eyes instead of Phantom’s pure white.

“Phantom’s on the move!” she says, hauling Noir to his feet. “Noir, you’ll have to disappear soon to refuel –” She jumps back and whirls her yo-yo in front of her to fend off Hawkmoth’s sudden attack, while Noir ducks out of the room to detransform and refuel so that he can jump back in.

“Water Dragon.” Ryuuko cracks the water whip in her free hand and catches Rena Rouge, Carapace, Petite Souris, and Honeybee’s heads, smothering them with water while they choke and claw at their faces in an attempt to breathe. Shit. Well, at least they know where Phantom is now, though there’s not much she can do when she’s currently preoccupied with Hawkmoth.

“Yes, my son!” Hawkmoth crows, ducking a surprise attack from Noir, who’s back from refuelling. “Seize their Miraculouses!”

“Adrien! Kitty! You have to fight it!” Ladybug cries. She smoothly ducks a sweeping blow from Hawkmoth, then throws her yo-yo to try and pin him, but he’s quick to jump out of the way and crack Noir across the knuckles. Noir hisses and instinctively drops his baton, which Hawkmoth scoops up and aims right at him.

“I’m not Adrien,” Ryuuko – Phantom – says dully, devoid of life, of spirit. “I’m Phantom. Hand over your Miraculouses.”

Petite Souris is the first to collapse in an unconscious heap and Honeybee soon follows. Desperate to avoid Rena Rouge and Carapace sharing the same fate, Ladybug turns and wraps her yo-yo around Phantom’s whip arm and jerks, shattering the water whip and freeing Rena Rouge and Carapace, who stagger and gasp in massive gulps of air. Then Ladybug’s turning back to Hawkmoth just in time to catch his double-staff attack and leap away with Noir. Out of the corner of her eye, there’s a dark thing against one of the walls, but when Ladybug backflips out of the way of another attack and the mass is gone, she dismisses it as her imagination, no doubt from the adrenaline surging through her system.

“We’ll never win like this!” Ladybug says. She deflects Hawkmoth’s next blow, then is forced to throw herself to the ground when Phantom’s Thunder Dragon comes arcing at her and instead slams into the wall, blowing it to pieces and exposing them to the street outside. “Not when Phantom can take us over one by one and force us on a timer!”

She’s proven correct when, out of the corner of her eye, she catches sight of Carapace trying to slam his shield into Rena Rouge, who yelps and ducks out of the way, while a dazed-looking Ryuuko attempts to awaken Honeybee. Then Rena Rouge’s eyes flash white and she’s summoning her Mirage to blind Carapace and then batting him around the head with her flute, before her eyes are once more normal and Ryuuko is diving at her, sword outstretched, only to catch on Carapace’s Shellter.

“Give up now!” Hawkmoth says with wild eyes. “You’ll never win, Ladybug! You’re only prolonging the inevitable! Phantom is my perfect akuma and you’ll never defeat him!”

“Perhaps not as he is,” says Master Fu’s voice. Ladybug whirls around as she dodges Hawkmoth’s next attack, and her eyes widen at the sight of her old mentor dressed in brown armour with baggy brown pants, a gold monkey-shaped mask, a golden circlet around his balding head, and a staff in his hands that Ladybug believes is called a Ruyi Jingu Bang, if she remembers her mother’s tales correctly. “But I think my team just needs a little assistance from Hóu. Uproar!”

“Uh, what?” mumbles a groggy Honeybee as Hóu catches the little black cat plushie that falls into his hand and starts angling around to search for Phantom. “Ridiculous, utterly…”

“Oh, get up, already!” Ryuuko yanks Honeybee to her feet. “Are you a superhero or not?”

“You try getting half-drowned,” Honeybee slurs. Then she straightens up with white eyes and tackles Ryuuko to the floor, calling upon Venom and jabbing her trompo at Ryuuko but instead catching Rena Rouge’s ankle when Ryuuko bats her hand away fast as lightning. Then Ryuuko jolts and kicks Honeybee off her and into the wall.

“Chat! Adrien!” Ladybug cries as Phantom stands and jerks her head around to take in Ladybug with a twisted smile marring Kagami Tsurugi’s face. “Please, you have to fight it!”

“I told you, I’m not Chat or Adrien.” Phantom jabs her sword at Ladybug, who yelps and bats it away with her yo-yo. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches Hawkmoth trying to angle around and come at her from behind, but Noir’s covering her back in an instant to allow her to focus on Phantom.

“Yes, you are.” Ladybug ducks an attack from Phantom, then tugs on Noir’s wrist to get him to duck so that she can lash out backwards and catch Hawkmoth by surprise, forcing him to relinquish the baton so that Noir can reclaim his weapon. “You’ll always be Adrien to me. You’ll always be my silly kitty.”

“That’s nice of you to say, Marinette,” Phantom says. Behind Ladybug, Hawkmoth sucks in a deep breath and Ladybug mutters a curse. Now they have to take Hawkmoth down or else…or else her identity will be known, and Hawkmoth will be free to target her friends and family all he wants!

“I’m not being nice. I’m just stating the truth,” Ladybug says, spinning her yo-yo to prepare for Phantom’s next attack. “I love you, kitty, no matter who you are. And I know you don’t really want to fight me. You could’ve floored me by now if you did. I know it. I know you.”

Phantom remains rooted to the spot, staring at Ladybug with wide, haunted milky eyes. She sucks in a deep breath, then starts to lower her sword, when –

“No!” Hawkmoth bellows while jabbing at Noir, who leaps aside and tugs Ladybug out of the way too. “Attack her, my son! Take her Miraculous! Obey your father!”

Phantom shudders and shakes her head. “I – I can’t hurt my lady –”

“Fight him, Adrien!” Ladybug re-slings her yo-yo and rushes over to grab Phantom’s hands. “You don’t want to hurt me. You don’t want to hurt any of us. Your heart is massive, kitty. You’ve got so much love right in here.” She reaches up to rest a hand over Phantom’s heart, while choked gasps roll from between Phantom’s lips. “Hawkmoth – Gabriel Agreste – he won’t get away with this. I know you’d never choose to work with him.”

“I – I can’t –”

With a soft smile, Ladybug cups Phantom’s face and rests her forehead against Phantom’s, just like her mother always does with her. “I love you, Adrien,” Ladybug murmurs against Phantom’s mouth. “I love you, Chat Noir. Luka and Kagami and I love all of you, my sunshine. Please…”

Phantom shudders and sags against Ladybug, and Hóu is by their side in an instant, pressing the black cat plushie to Phantom’s back. Phantom gasps and slumps forward, nearly toppling Ladybug with her weight, and a pale figure staggers back from her, a disco ball hanging from his wrist.

“What in the world?” Hawkmoth says as Ladybug jumps away while supporting a dazed Ryuuko. Noir tries to take advantage of his distraction to attack, but Hawkmoth parries with lightning reflexes.

“Adrien?” Noir gasps after dodging an attack from Hawkmoth. Bile rises in Ladybug’s throat when she gets a good look at the pale figure and realises that it’s…Adrien. It’s literally Adrien, except with chalk-white skin, hair as white as snow, white clothes, and lifeless ivory eyes; the only colour on him is the silvery, flashing disco ball around his wrist. He looks…dead, like a ghost; a phantom of his former self. Oh, her poor kitty!

“Ladybug!” Hóu lashes out with his Ruyi Bang and shatters the disco ball into pieces, releasing the evil black butterfly from within the shards. With a snarl, Ladybug snatches the akuma with her yo-yo, while Ryuuko steps away with her eyes flickering between Adrien and Hawkmoth.

“No!” Hawkmoth bellows. “My perfect akuma!”

“I told you that you could never hope to overcome the bond between Ladybug and Chat Noir,” says Hóu with a triumphant smile.

“Time to de-evilise, Adrien!” Ladybug cries, releasing the white butterfly. A purple-black mass encases Phantom and melts away to leave a fully-coloured Adrien, who blinks owlishly and stares at the mess around him.

“What am I doing here?” he says slowly. His eyes widen when he registers exactly where he is and who he’s with. “Master? Why am I here? Hawkmoth? That’s – you’re my father – did you akumatise me –”

“Adrichat!” Honeybee grabs a hyperventilating Adrien by the arms and sinks to the ground with him. “Talk to me. Five things you can see. Now!”

“No matter,” Hawkmoth snarls, edging towards the collapsed wall. “I have plenty more akumas, and emotions are running quite high today. I’ll simply – gah!”

Ladybug blinks and readies her yo-yo when Hawkmoth staggers back and clutches at his throat. He’s seemingly being strangled by an invisible force…except that no, it’s not an invisible force. It’s tiny mouse people with their pink jump ropes wrapped around his throat, using the leverage of their feet planted against his nape to cut off his airway.

“Souris?” Ladybug bursts out. Wait…hadn’t Petite Souris been knocked out by Phantom? Maybe she’d only just regained consciousness. Or maybe she’d hung back, waiting for the right moment to strike, like a mouse in the shadows.

“Take it, Ladybug!” one of the Petite Souris clones cries. “His Miraculous!”

Right. Miraculous first! With a growl, Ladybug closes her fingers around the spiky purple brooch at Hawkmoth’s collar and yanks, dislodging it from his suit jacket. In a flash of purple light, Hawkmoth is replaced with Gabriel Agreste, who sinks to his knees once the Petite Souris clones release him and leap down to the ground to meld back together into one girl.

“Adrien –”

“Don’t,” Ladybug snarls and throws her yo-yo to practically crack Gabriel’s ribs with how tightly she binds him. “You don’t have the right to speak to Adrien. You don’t deserve to even look at him.”

“Everything I did was for him!”

“No,” an ashen-faced Adrien hisses from where he’s being smothered by Honeybee, Rena Rouge, Carapace, and Ryuuko. “Everything you did was for you. Don’t try and pretend that you were doing it for me. I’d made my peace with Mother’s disappearance, even if it still hurt.”

“I was going to fix all of this! You wouldn’t remember a thing!” Gabriel’s eyes glitter madly. Ryuuko just snorts and shakes her head in disgust.

“But you would remember everything,” she says. “And clearly, you would be able to live with the memory of torturing your own son, or you wouldn’t have dreamed of going this far in the first place.”

“You can’t akumatise yourself,” Adrien whispers. “Not without the safety net from the Butterfly to protect your mind. Nooroo should have told you. Nooroo would have told you! But you never listen to anyone other than yourself!”

“Can anyone take him to the police?” Ladybug says before Gabriel can speak again and send Adrien spiralling even further. “Or have all of you used up your powers?”

“I think you’re the only one who hasn’t,” Noir says. His arms wrap around her from behind and she stiffens, but he doesn’t squeeze like he had when he was Phantom; his touch is light and grounding and honestly, exactly what she needs right now. “Will your Miraculous Ladybug start your timer?”

“Yes,” says a detransformed Master Fu, with the little monkey kwami Xuppu hovering by his side. “But it might be more appropriate for both Ladybug and Chat Noir to take Hawkmoth, as they are the original two heroes of Paris, and Plagg needs to refuel.”

“Right.” Ladybug ducks out of Noir’s embrace to unwind her yo-yo from around Gabriel, only to snatch Noir’s baton out of his hand and smash Gabriel around the head with it, just like Chat Noir had smacked Lila with the fire extinguisher all those months ago. Gabriel topples over like a sack of potatoes, out cold, but she still bashes him once more for good measure. Definitely not for personal satisfaction. Nope, she’s Ladybug, and Ladybug doesn’t do that.

“No fair,” Noir complains. “I wanted to do that.”

“Get in line, guitar boy,” Honeybee snaps.

“Miraculous Ladybug!” Ladybug throws her yo-yo into the air to release the healing ladybug swarm, which repairs the front of Master Fu’s parlour and all the damage that had been done during the battle. Thankfully, Gabriel remains unconscious and unmoving. Huh. Even Tikki can be petty when she wants to be. “Spots off.”

The others release their transformations as well. Luka crosses over to kneel next to Adrien, offering the silver ring, and Adrien lets out a wordless cry when Plagg zips over and nuzzles against his cheek. Marinette can’t help but smile at the sight, even if her eyes prickle as well as she throws herself down next to Adrien and wraps her arms around him so tightly that she doesn’t think she’ll ever let go. Adrien’s arm immediately snakes around her waist and pulls her even closer, and Marinette’s heart starts to physically break when she realises that Adrien’s arm is trembling uncontrollably but he’s not crying. He probably hasn’t cried in…gosh, how long?

“I can’t believe it’s over,” Mylène says, staring at Gabriel as though he’s a poisonous snake that’ll strike at any minute. “We defeated Hawkmoth!”

“You were amazing, Mylène,” Marinette says, and Mylène squeaks and ducks her head, red-faced. “We literally couldn’t have done it without you catching Hawkmoth off-balance like that. He was getting ready to hightail it out of here.”

“I’m afraid it’s not over just yet.”

Marinette and everyone else turn to face Master Fu with wide eyes. Grimly, he holds up the Miracle Box.

“Hawkmoth’s ally must have taken advantage of the chaos to sneak inside while our attention was elsewhere. The Peacock and the Tiger are missing.”

[fictionalboysarejustbetter]

Friendships from Afar

Distance creates a barrier of trust. There are no worries. There is always a safety net to fall back on that protects from hurt or pain. Beginning in second grade, my personal goal had always been to find a singular, perfect friend who lives far away. We could talk openly with each other, and I would have the ability to be myself. The plan is that years later, I would meet this person in the weirdest of circumstances, and we would be best friends forever. It’s even better if this friend is a guy, so then we can both fall in love and get married to live happily ever after.

In second grade, the entire class received school pen pals, and while my fourth-grade pen pal was not ideal, I knew I loved this “secret” letter writing system where I am just Rebecca, nothing more or less. Moving into fifth grade, Mrs. Smith found me a pen pal from China. Through our teachers, we would send each other letters back and forth until the school year was over. From this moment onward, I was hooked; pen pals didn’t care what I looked like or how shy I was or how involved my mother was with the school, I could just be me, and they only knew the information I told them. Without asking for help, I scavenged through the internet, trying to collect pen pals as if they were Webkinz. I was convinced this perfect friend could only be found on pen pal websites that look like they were made by my fellow fifth graders.

Starting in sixth grade, I would spend night after night stalking the profiles of random teenagers on Students of the World, a supposedly “safe” pen pal website for kids. Gender? Who cares. Age? About 10-16. Likes? Reading, of course. Language? English please. I would then press search and sift through hundreds of profiles, finding the perfect candidates to be my best friend. This process was extremely predictable, including:

The teenage boys “looking” for a relationship:

Nathaniel, Age 14, UK

HOBBIES:

Photo

Trips

Cinema, Television

Sports

Reading

Painting, Drawing, Art

Hi! Are you looking for a cool guy to write to? Send me a nice message otherwise you’ll miss something priceless. 

I can speak:

English, French

The liars that claimed they like everything and speak every language:

Janhvi, Age 16, USA

HOBBIES:

Photo

Trips

Clothes

Cinema, Television

Sports

Sciences

Music

Reading

Animals, Nature

Cooking

Collections

Painting, Drawing, Art

Hello !!👩I'm Janhvi .I like to travel.I have traveled in to many countries .Such as india , sri lanka, china, france and more.I like make new friends.message me soon guys.👭👫OUR LIFE IS CHANGE , BUT FRIENDSHIP NEVER BE CHANGE.

I can speak:

English French German Italian Spanish Arabic Chinese Japanese Korean

The students making a profile for class:

Chaya, Age 13, USA

HOBBIES:

Clothes

Cinema, Television

Music

Reading

Animals, Nature

I am looking for a penpal for our school project. I would like to find some in Atlanta, Georgia.

I can speak:

English

I would scroll through these profiles so constantly that I rarely found new profiles. I was judging every profile based off of the person’s name, biography, age, likes, languages, everything. Most people without a profile picture wouldn’t receive an email from me. I tried to avoid messaging anyone from the United States unless they sounded like a major fangirl or fanboy over the books I liked. I automatically favored anyone from Europe, especially if they had an interesting name. But regardless if anyone from anywhere sent me a message first, I would respond back at least once.

Shortly after the search began, I received a message from a girl named Julia from Australia. She and I were the same age, we both needed a friend, and we both liked reading, animals, music, and clothes. Quickly, my life began to revolve around the fourteen hours that always stood between Australia and the United States. Throughout sixth and seventh grade, we would be constantly messaging on the messaging app “kik,” confiding everything deep and useless to each other like best friends do:

Becca says:

Hey, how are you?

Julia says:

Everyones well... Mum and dad start the long drive to melbourne this weekend so everythings kinda topsy turvy :p

How is your family and pets? Im sorry for my rudeness that i didnt ask earlier

Nearlytime for school?

Becca says:

Lol that is fine! I get to school around 8, so normally ill drop off right before, lol i try to remember to tell you but i tend to forget. Theyre good though. Willie and Apricot are happy my grandma left :-P mom and dad are helping me with my ancestry project and exploding of happiness because I got a position in that volleyball club and my sister has been working and spending money :-P her favorite thing to do

Julia says:

Ahh the christmas spirit... Lol is there anyone in the house who loves your grandmother?

Becca says:

Lol we love her because shes family, but no one loves her when shes here if you know what i mean.

What’s up?

For two years, the conversations would continue for hours, as we both wait anxiously for the “ding” on our tablets, indicating a new message. Julia’s father was a firefighter who fought the nasty bushfires that haunted their country. I interviewed him as my hero for my final paper and presentation in my eighth grade English class. I interviewed him through email after our initial plans to Skype were sidetracked by the active wildfires, and I so proudly presented the information about him that you would have thought he was my father.

One day, Julia told me about her divorced parents. Then, she told me about the twins her mom just gave birth to. Then, she explained that she actually has a twin brother and no younger siblings at all. Then, she became an aunt to twin nephews. Then, her house burned down, and she had to move across the country. Then, her parents just moved across town. The stories continued and continued only within months of each other, not adding up in any way, shape, or form. With hope still in my heart, I sent her all three books of The Hunger Games trilogy since she really wanted to read them, but two months later, the books came back in the mail as undeliverable. The address did not exist.

Unable to admit defeat or accept the idea that my best friend might not be real despite all of the evidence, I started to panic. What if she is catfishing me? I’ve seen that show before, and I even gave “her” my address. Whoever this person is could easily come to my house and kidnap me...maybe I should tell my mom and warn the police. But maybe, she just has a really hard life, and she compulsively lies to make herself feel better? Maybe, she just really wants attention, and that’s why none of her stories are adding up. Besides it could still be her, she may just be scared. She could have just lied and is younger than she said and is trying to sound cool to impress me.

With these panicked thoughts raging through my body like wildfire, I blocked her from kik and began to ignore her emails. I forced myself to just disappear, so then I would have nothing to worry about. I cannot trust that Julia is really Julia, so I will just watch “her” occasional emails come in, analyzing from afar who “she” may be. I’ll search for her on Google and Facebook and Instagram and Students of the World and anywhere else I can look. The emails would keep coming for years and years, but they never held much content to them, and I’m still left to question who “Julia” is.

My Julia investigation was stalled for now, and the void of not having a constant penpal to talk to quickly came back. Therefore, my search to find the perfect best friend needed to be expedited since Julia was certainly not cut out for the position. I continued to search Students of the World with my new smartphone every chance I had. In between games at volleyball competitions, Hope and I could be found by the nearest outlet on my phone, scouring the website for the perfect answers within someone’s profile. We would send out messages together to the nerdy fangirls and fanboys around our age. Every day during the bus ride home from school, Jenna and I looked through the website on our phones, judging everyone’s biographies and pictures. Jenna created a profile too, and we would have three-way Skype sessions with Sylvia from France until the two of them became too close and stopped inviting me to Skype with them.

Finally in April of ninth grade, I received a promising email from a 16-year-old boy from France:

To: fictionalboysarejustbetter@gmail.com From: coolfrenchboy@gmail.com

My name is Kristopher and Im from France !

I watched a few days ago Divergent and it made me want to read the books !

I see you like tv shows and video games as I do !

I am not fluent in English but I can talk to you !

If you want I can learn you French ! :)

Typically, I would spend about twenty minutes every day responding to emails from random penpals on my way home from school, but within the first three or so emails to a person, one of us would just stop responding. In regard to Kris, I generally liked video games, but I wasn’t obsessed with them, and I had a weird taste in TV, so we probably couldn’t talk about that much. But Divergent by Veronica Roth was my all-time favorite book. As soon as I read that word in the email, I knew I would be responding until he stopped responding to me. It had always been my goal to fall in love with a fanboy, especially one with the same taste in books and movies as me, so I immediately responded with:

To: coolfrenchboy@gmail.com From: fictionalboysarejustbetter@gmail.com

Hi Kristopher!

What part of France are you from? I live near Pittsburgh, PA, USA.

Yes, definitely read the books! They are amazing! I find myself gravitating towards video games and shows more than sports! :P

I don't know much of French as I take Spanish in school, but I'd love to learn some and help you with English as well!

Rebecca

He emailed me back within minutes, and we emailed for most of the evening, talking about books and food and the differences between the United States and France. That night though, my phone battery had died, and it was only for a few hours. After plugging it in, I found five unread messages from him, making sure I was okay.

To: fictionalboysarejustbetter@gmail.com From: coolfrenchboy@gmail.com

Lol it works ! :) Good courage to go back to school ! :)

To: fictionalboysarejustbetter@gmail.com From: coolfrenchboy@gmail.com

Hey sweetie 😆

To: fictionalboysarejustbetter@gmail.com From: coolfrenchboy@gmail.com

How are you Miss ?

To: fictionalboysarejustbetter@gmail.com From: coolfrenchboy@gmail.com

Do You use words like ain't or gonna ? 😆

To: fictionalboysarejustbetter@gmail.com From: coolfrenchboy@gmail.com

Are you OK ?

As soon as I read these messages, my heart fluttered a little. This was just the beginning of our constant messaging and talking. I happily responded to him, and within days, Kris was my perfect, new best friend. The random space he left between the last word and the punctuation of a sentence would drive me insane, but I didn’t have the heart to explain the process to him. We talked so consistently that it would probably be considered unhealthy, discussing pets, family, being the youngest child, aspirations, atheism, languages, food, books, video games, and everything else under the sun. I was stuck to my phone all day, and every time I picked it up, I waited in anticipation for a notification with his name and the random spaces between his words and the punctuation.

The six-hour time difference between the two of us meant nothing, with him staying up late and me getting up early. Between classes, we would sneak each other messages about how our days were going. My week-long field trip to San Antonio, Texas was spent either messaging him or scouting out an outlet to plug my phone into so that I could talk to him. The more access I had to Kris, the further I distanced myself from my friends and family. When my phone would die or I wouldn’t have reception, I would look around, annoyed by whoever the people around me were. Kris was the perfect friend I always wanted; he was my best friend, and I was his. Neither of us needed anyone else, and hopefully, all of our talking and flirting would lead to love which would lead to marriage.

The summer before tenth grade came, and Kris seemed to be growing distant. Supposedly, he was travelling all summer, and he would rarely have access to wifi. I counted down the days until he would be back home, and after one measly conversation, he disappeared again. I sent message after message, finally receiving a response about his brother pushing him in the pool and his phone being in his pocket at the time, so it was destroyed. The summer seemed to be surrounded by disappointment, but hopefully when we went back to school, our relationship would continue to be as strong as it was before.

Tenth grade began, and Kris was still busy all the time. Apparently if he kept up his hard work, he would be valedictorian. Since I couldn’t spend lunch chatting with him anymore, I bragged that I was basically dating this amazing French guy who is valedictorian at his school. Until October hit, and then I would receive the dreadful message that he has a girlfriend. Ironically, this only made our conversation stronger than it had ever been, and he even picked out my new haircut, sending me endless compliments on it. The next day, he sent another message, explaining that his girlfriend didn’t want us talking anymore so it would probably be best if we just stopped. I was bad at listening to these directions, following this conversation up with many, many new messages in attempts to strike a conversation with him again. These messages earned me a nice block from Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and Snapchat.

My only method of contact would now be email, so night after night instead of stalking Students of the World for new pen pals, I would send Kris emails. I now began to understand that feeling that I caused upon Julia, who may or may not have been Julia. Throughout October and November, I received a few responses that sounded like an automatic email reply, but one email in mid-November stood out, as it was one of the last ones I would receive from him.

To: thisismyname@gmail.com From: thisiscoolfrenchboysnewemail@gmail.com

Hello Becca,

I did act stupid and didn’t answer your messages at all. When I emailed you first, I never thought our friendship would get that strong !

Guess what, there used to be a time I was really in love with you, but I haven’t dared say so … The one biggest reason was the 6000 km that stand between us ! You were the one I loved talking to ! So I talked to you and you never waited to answer and neither did I.

I don’t know, something went wrong, time changed, I’m sorry I haven’t answered you for long, this is all my bad. I wish I could go back to past to fix this.

This message will never ever be able to patch things up, but it (I hope ) will tell you that I never forgot you .

My mother would tell me time and time again that any type of relationship separated by physical distance would never work. I had never believed her, but after receiving this email, I understood. Why had I ever believed that the perfect friendship would be through time differences of at least five hours? These relationships do not automatically create a barrier of trust, often making it even harder to trust. There are always going to be worries about who that person is and what their intentions are. There is no safety net to keep you from being hurt or feeling pain. Once there is a roadblock within your barrier of communication, you cannot simply get it back after running into each other at Walmart or flashing them a fake smile as you pass them in the hallway at school. As soon as one person blocks the other or the number of unread emails increases substantially over months, that person is gone forever.