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noodles-n-soba · 2 years ago

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Walking to the busstop/car with them when it starts raining heavily

Scenario: You two are on a date or some other kind of event, deciding it was time to head home. Out of nowhere it starts raining incredibly hard.. and you just hope you'll reach your end destination not too soaked.

Characters: Bennett, Tartaglia, Diluc, Itto, Kazuha, Razor, Scaramouche

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Masterlist

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Bennett

You and Bennett had decided that the two of you had to spend some more quality time together now that you had your summer break!

It was the last day of school, walking hand in hand towards the busstop.. This hand holding wasn't only a sign of affection, but also you trying to prevent him from tripping and falling flat on his face.. You couldn't deal with Benny's nosebleeds anymore..

When the two of you were almost at your destination, you felt a wet droplet fall on your nose. You didn't think too much about it, the weather surely wouldn't be that bad.. right?

Okay so why didn't you expect the worse again? Did you forget how unlucky your boyfriend was? Well, in about a second or two it seemed like someone tried drowning you with rain and water..

"Ah! (Y/n).. dont worry! I was prepared.. I have an umbrel-!" He pulled out his umbrella, and you saw how it folded... Broke and somehow dismembered itself completely. You were surprised it could even do that to itself-

".. Had an umbrella.."

So, the two of you stand in the rain getting soaked till the buss arrives. Sadly enough you don't have a spare umbrella left, you recall leaving it on a table at home because you were so sure that it wouldn't rain..

Tartaglia

He absolutely LOVES the rain to be honest

The two of you walk out of a cute Cafe where you had a date, noticing the gray sky that hung above the two of you made you shiver shortly.

"I think it will rain in a bit.." You comment, he waves his hand around and smiles.

"Don't worry! We'll arrive at the busstop before it'll rain. If we don't, I'll just give you my jacket so you won't catch a cold.." With that the two of you walk to your destination, a hand around your shoulder to keep you close to him.

When you start to feel drops of water fall on your head, you gaze up to the sky and notice Tartaglia has been looking too.. Well, his prediction wasn't that correct.

"Oh.. Seems like it's raining already? Well.." His jacket is already heading your way, placed on your shoulders as a kiss on the tip of your nose follows.

"This doesn't help much.. But at least your clothes won't get that ruined?"

You sigh tiresome as he grabs your hand, looking around and notices the street was actually completely empty.

As rain pours down on the two of you, Tartaglia actually drags you to the middle of the street and holds your waist with his other hand.

"What if we end this date with a dance in the rain?"

Diluc

The two of you were out on a date, he'd treat you to something nice today.. So as you were walking through the city and looking at all the shops, you noticed the time.

"Eh!? 18:00 already? No wonder most of the stores are closed.." With a pout you put your phone away and continue walking right next to Diluc who has your arm hooked through his.

"Shall we return home than?"

You nod, after eating tons of new food and dishes.. You feel like this day had been successful. Besides, you're a bit tired of traversing through the city the entire day.

As the two of you head back to the parking lot where Diluc's car was parked, you noticed a puddle of water where ripples would make their presence every few seconds.

The moment the sky decided to just throw all its water at the two of you, you both make a run for it- You were NOT in the mood to get soaked.. Not at all!!

At some rate you kind of slow down because your shoes were acting up, so.. Diluc would just lift you up extremely easily and carry you while running.

Caught by surprise your first reaction is to wrap your arms around his neck and panic slightly- Like.. This came out of absolutely no where!?

When he finally arrives at the parking lot he'll unlock his car, open the door for you and place you on your seat. Than he'll rush to the driver's side and hop on his place behind the steering wheel.

Panting heavily the two of you stare into each other's eyes, you still being stunned by Diluc's actions.. AND strength. A soft and gentle kiss on your lips follow as he starts up the car.

"It would have been a pity if our outfits got ruined.. Wouldn't it?"

Itto

The two of you had been searching for insects and beetles in the woods because you promised Itto the two of you would do that once you had time on your hands.

He will be all over the place.. Looking at every beetle, picking it up and showing it to you like a proud kid who just received a new toy from a toyshop.

You just smile and nod approvingly, trying to keep him in the best mood. To be honest, you think these insects were absolutely horrifying. You'd kill Itto if he'd take them home with him, that was one thing you had told yourself..

When you feel something wet drop on your head, your mind immediately goes to the thought that it was bird shit.. Or some insect peeing on you, because that tend to happen whenever the two of you would visit the forest.

When you start realizing it weren't any type of feces but rain, you sigh relieved but also in distress. Why would it rain now? The ground would turn all muddy and you already knew that you'd slip and fall..

Knowing this, you call over Itto, tell him it's raining and offer to return back home.

"But I don't wanna go homeeee..." He cries out desperate, such a child..

You have to drag him away from all those insects with all your strength and might. He'd a firm one, but if you keep on complaining he'll eventually budge!

And so, he finally comes to the realization it is raining heavily..

This clueless idiot tries to cover your with his own body, he's way taller than you and thinks hovering over you would lead to some kind of solution.. But life was a tad too unfair.

Before you arrive at your car, yours because you thought it would definitely be a mistake to let Itto drive in general, the two of you had already turned into water tanks..

"Well, at least we're one step closer to home..?"

Kazuha

The two of you decided it was time to head back home after a boat party of your dearest friend and mom figure, Beidou.

So, the two of you traversed over the street, both a little tipsy because you somehow ended up drinking the wrong 'fruit juice'.. Even though, the walk is really calming.

As both your souls find their rest in each others presence and silence, you can't help but hold his hand and dart your eyes on his rosy cheeks..

Till you feel a drop of a moist mixture.. Leaving you wondering if it was rain or just hallucinations from the alcohol.

When you see Kazuha wiping his forehead, you know for sure that it's not imaginary, you sigh deeply.

"No worry, there is no harm to a little rain.. Is there?" With his soothing voice he already swooned you in an instant, distracting you from the downpour.

As the two of you got wetter and wetter by the second, he still tried his best to fend your mind off the rain.. He would make sure to maintain direct eye contact, just so that you wouldn't feel uncomfortable. There wasn't anything else that could be a solution to this problem.. For you had taken the bus which led you at the busstop closest to the beach.

As the two of you finally arrive at the stop, you realize that you're completely soaked. Wondering how the hell he kept your attention that well, the two of you finally reach your end destination.

While waiting he'll wrap an arm around you, asking you a few times if you are okay and tries to keep you warm.

Razor

After going out for a nice date at the cinema and a stroll around the park, the two of you decided it was getting a bit too late. Normally, late night walks around a park were your favorite activity, but the two of you weren't close to home this time.

As the two of you tried finding the way back to the place where you entered, you felt a droplet fell on your nose. You gazed up to the sky, only to be met by another drop in your eye.

Flinching immediately and squeezing Razor's arm, since you were holding on to him, he turned his head around immediately and asked you what was wrong..

"Just the rain.."

Since this was so natural to him, his senses subconsciously ignored the fact that there was a heavy storm upcoming. Now that you reminded him of paying attention.. His eyes shot wide open.

"We need to hurry.. A storm.."

Quite panicky the two of you walked a bit faster and the rain seemed to respond to your paces. In no time a sea from the clouds had formed and you were both running.

Razor enjoyed this a bit too much while you were telling yourself that it wouldn't take too long to get to the busstop and that you'd be dry before you woud arrive home.

So as you arrive, the two of you are completely soaked because you didn't think of bringing an umbrella on your stroll, Razor is still hopping around in the rain while you are waiting under the small roof on top of the busstop, observing the happy boy with a gentle smile on your face.

Scaramouche

He'll be the one who first notices it was raining. You only realized when he cussing under his breath about the unwelcome rain, that you too, begun to realize that you had been getting wet at the moment.

A short and brief conversation about umbrellas and taking cover followed, but the two of you concluded you'd just take big steps and take a taxi..

"This rain is inconvenient as hell, are you really that sure that you don't want to take cover.. Before I even realize you'll be laying on the floor because you slipped..?" He mocked with a soft smirk painted on his face, you glared at him..

"You'll be the one on the concrete and the cause won't be the rain." His eyes sparkled once he heard this response, but he let it slip and decided he'd just give you a sadistic smile.

Out of nowhere you grabbed his hand, leaving him a bit stunned as you started making a run for it. You weren't in the mood to be absolutely dripping when you would arrive at the busstop..

Scaramouche stopped you quite easily, confused you turned around. When he took his hat off and placed it on your head, you were a bit stunned.

"Now, walk. I don't want to get extremely wet."

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fireflykaizoku · 3 years ago

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I noticed your request are open and if they arent I'm so sorry pls just ignore me 😔 but if they are open could I request some Sanji headcanons with a female crush? I would love to see how he would be around her in the kitchen and pleasantly suprised she's a good cook just cooks different dishes and teasingly ask for his help every now and then playful flirting between the two. I'm sorry if it's rambly thank you have a nice day!

helloo, anon my love! yess, they're open, don't worry ❤ i hope you like it! have a nice day and drink water as well! ❤

At first, Sanji would treat you like he treats every other woman. His nose would bleed while he had heart eyes. But after he actually developed feelings for you, the cook would act differently. He would be more “affectionate”, if so to say. His actions towards you wouldn’t be as “generic” as they used to be. He would actually want to get to know you better, and maybe, as he got closer to you, the blonde wouldn’t be as flirty with his other female crewmates. Because of course, he wouldn’t see you only as a crewmate.

He would still make your favorite desserts, and spoil you with cold drinks whenever the weather was too hot. If the sun was bothering you, he’d hold an umbrella or something so you feel more comfortable; craving something specific? he’d cook for you; can’t sleep? Sanji will make some tea. But somehow, he’d try to make sure you noticed his actions are more meaningful than with the other girls.

When he heard noises from the kitchen at night, Sanji thought it was Luffy trying to open the fridge. But to his surprise, he saw you cooking something he didn’t know what it was just yet.

Noticing his presence, you smiled and asked if he didn’t mind if you used his kitchen for a while to cook your favorite dishes. Still speechless, he shook his head as a “no”.

The blonde’s heart almost stopped when you asked him for help. You didn’t have to ask him twice, because Sanji was already next to you waiting for your orders.

It became a habit, you both started cooking together, standing close to each other or brushing your hands on his (and at first he’d get a nosebleed every time, having to excuse himself).

He’d love to be the first person to try whatever you were cooking, it’d make him feel special and important somehow. The woman he has a crush on caring about his opinion? Sanji would feel like he was in heaven! He’d give his honest opinion, but they’d always be compliments because you’re such a great cook!

The blonde could just sit there, with a smile on his face seeing you so concentrated, cooking something.

Also, whenever you started to playfully flirt with him, he’d feel like he was in heaven. And again, at first he’d get a nosebleed every time. It’d take him some time to get used to it.

He’d be very protective, not only during fights, but also whenever someone flirted with you. You weren’t his yet, but this doesn’t mean he’d let nasty men approach you.

So overall, Sanji would still spoil you like he used to do when you first met. He’d cook your favorite food, call you nicknames and be all over you. But with time, he’d spend more time with you cooking together, his flirting would be more serious (and only with you), and he’d try to show his feelings until one of you confessed (or until you showed you felt the same for him).

#sanji x reader #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece headcanons #vinsmoke sanji #sanji

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katb357 · 2 years ago

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Sicktember 10: Excessive Use of Tissues

Thanks once again to my awesome writing partner Xav!

C. Kelly/A Shift/Emergency!

Chet was sleeping in his bunk in the station when something woke him up. His eyes cracked open, and he was aware something wasn’t right. His face hurt, and he realized there was fluid leaking from his nose. He put his hand up to his nose, and his hand got wet. He sat up and reached for his bunker pants. He hurried into the latrine. Sure enough, his nose was bleeding, fairly heavily. He wasn’t terribly alarmed, because the weather had been very hot and dry. He figured the bleed was due to that.

He reached for the box of Kleenex sitting on the counter and after wiping his nose, packed some in both nostrils. He took the box with him and went into the dayroom to wait for the bleeding to stop. He figured it was no big deal and saw no reason to bother any of his sleeping station mates. He simply sat down at the table and tipped his head back, replacing the Kleenex as needed. He was still there fifteen minutes later.

Marco awoke to the call of nature. As he rubbed his eyes and sat up, he noticed that Chet was not on his bed. A trickle of moonlight through the window revealed a dark stain on his pillow, too. Marco was pretty drowsy, though, and it didn’t really register what it was. He pulled on his bunker pants, then trudged toward the latrine. No Chet there. He did his business, then--a little more awake--decided to go out to the day room and find his friend.

When he got there, he saw Chet sitting at the table with his head tilted back and tissues stuffed in his nostrils. The sight would have been amusing if those tissues weren’t both blood-soaked. “Ai ai ai, amigo!” He ran back to the latrine, grabbed a washcloth, and soaked it in cold water, then hurried back to Chet. “Mama always told me, lean forward, not back, or it all goes down your throat.” He slapped the wet washcloth on the back of Chet’s neck. “That should help.”

“Thanggs, bal.” Chet’s voice was muffled, and he sounded as if he were in a bit of distress. “I been doin’ this for a while. It ain’t stobbin.”

“I’m gonna get Roy. He’ll know what to do.” Marco pulled a wad of fresh tissues from the box and thrust them at Chet. “You should change those out.” Then he hurried back to the dormitory.

Chet nodded, and quickly did so. Crimson blood stained the fresh white tissues quickly. Now Chet was a little worried.

Marco gently shook Roy awake. “Hey, Roy!” He kept his voice low, but the urgency in his tone quickly woke both Roy and Johnny. “Chet’s got a bad nosebleed, and it isn’t stopping. You’d better come.”

Roy shook himself awake, pulled on his bunker pants, and got up. Johnny followed suit. Together, the trio hurried to the dayroom.

“What’s up, Chet?” Johnny quipped, but the sight of those stained tissues, both the ones in use and the discarded ones, quickly killed any teasing he might have done. Something was really wrong for him to be bleeding like that. “Hey, you’d better pinch the bridge of your nose.”

The commotion woke Mike and Cap who came in to see what was going on. Cap called the station out temporarily until they could get a handle on what was happening.

Chet pinched his nose as asked but winced at the pain it caused. The bleeding didn’t slow much either.

“Looks like you’re in pain, pal,” Roy said. He sat down next to Chet.

Mike asked if they wanted their gear.

Roy nodded. “Yeah. Thanks, Mike.”

Meanwhile, Johnny moved to the sink. He filled a glass with water and sprinkled some cayenne pepper in it. He brought it back to the table. “Drink this.”

Chet rolled his eyes but drank the concoction. The bleeding did stop finally.

Chet was impressed and said so, and was all for forgetting the whole thing, but the others were not so inclined. They still needed to know what had caused such a heavy bleed. Rampart was the only answer for that.

After getting some details from Chet, Roy put in the call on the biophone. “Rampart, this is 51. We have a fireman who suffered a severe nosebleed. It finally stopped, but it lasted about half an hour and soaked through almost a full box of tissues. What do you advise?”

Kel Brackett didn’t like the sound of it at all, especially when he learned why it had stopped. Not that he was against the remedy, necessarily, but he was worried about the underlying cause. *

“51, is the victim dehydrated as a result? If so, start an IV ringers lactate TKO and transport asap either way. If you want to bring him in the squad, that works. Which fireman are we talking about, by the way?”

“Chet Kelly.” Roy determined that Chet was indeed dehydrated and started the IV as ordered. “We’ll bring him by Squad. Thanks, Rampart.”

When they got Chet into Treatment Two, Kel checked him over thoroughly and confirmed his suspicion. He asked Kelly, “Were you on a strenuous rescue or fire earlier today, one where you personally were under a lot of stress or strain?”

Chet thought about it and nodded. “Yeah, as a matter of fact. We fought a pretty hairy house fire this morning. Why?”

“Do you remember bumping your face on anything?”

Chet’s forehead furrowed as he thought. “Yeah, actually. I did. Or it bumped me… my helmet got knocked off and before I could pick it up, some debris fell and hit me in the face. I thought I got off easy--it didn’t knock me out or anything.”

“What it did was damage some of the blood vessels in your sinus area… and they finally burst after the pressure was off when you went to sleep. If you hadn’t awakened, you could have potentially bled out, Chet.”

Chet’s eyes just about bugged out at that. “Ya mean… Gage saved my life with that concoction he gave me?” He side-eyed the paramedic, who was looking pretty pleased with himself.

“I believe he certainly helped. They could have packed your soft palate with gauze as well, but it would have been much more uncomfortable for you. Either way, your waking up when you did was the key.”

Chet nodded slowly. The prospect of owing a life-debt to his favorite pigeon had been rather disheartening. He would just chalk up his survival to his own brilliance in not sleeping through the nosebleed. “Well… I don’t know about more uncomfortable. That stuff tasted nasty.” The Phantom was already contemplating payback.

Brackett eyed him sharply. “Well, you aren’t going anywhere for at least 24 hours. I’m admitting you. You lost a lot of blood, and I want you where I can keep an eye on you. I’m ordering a couple of units of plasma for you. And arguing with me will get you nowhere fast.”

“Aww, Doc. I feel f--” His protest was cut short by a yawn. He’d been going to say he felt fine, but really, he didn’t. He felt wobbly. And really tired. Still, he hated staying at the hospital. “Fine, Doc. Whatever you say. Guess I can catch up on my beauty sleep.”

Johnny guffawed at that. “You’ll need a lot more sleep than you can get in 24 hours for that, Chet.”

Chet smiled sleepily, “Aw, go play in traffic, Gage!”

The End

*Cayenne pepper dissolved in water drops blood pressure and can stop a nosebleed. Just a fun fact...

#sicktember 2022 #emergency!#chet kelly #johhny gage #roy desoto #kelly brackett #marco lopez #mike stoker #hank stanley

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mavda · 3 years ago

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Beast Tamers

Ch.1 | Ch.2 | Ch.3 | Ch.4(1) | Ch.4(2) | Ch.5(1) | Ch.5(2) | Ch.5(3) | Ch.5(4) | Ch.6(1) | Ch.6(2) | Ch.6(3) | Ch.7(1) | Ch.7(2) | Ch.7(3) | Ch.7(4) | Ch.7(5) | Ch.8(1) | Ch.8(2) | Ch.8(3) | Ch.9(1) | Ch.9(2) | Ch.9(3) |

Ch.9: No lies (4)

"Ah, you f-felt that?"

Naruto stares at Hinata's round belly, where his hand covers her whole abdomen.

"I did," he whispers. Still amazed at the movement going inside Hinata's body, at their baby moving.

Hinata covers his hand with hers, moves it to the side of her stomach. "I think next is h-here."

And she is correct. Naruto feels a kick in his hand a few seconds after, and he can feel in his chest something he can't explain yet. He crouches down and presses his lips to Hinata's pregnant belly. "Hello, baby."

She giggles and rests her hand on his hair. In love with him and the way he loves their child already.

"So, dizziness and nosebleeds, is that all?"

Naruto rests his ear on her stomach and Hinata ends up resting her hands on his arms. “N-nosebleeds sometimes, yes.”

Naruto nods and hears her heartbeat against his ear. Her hand on his hair, her fingers sometimes tracing his whiskers. He closes his eyes and lets silence reign for a few seconds, before remembering something he wanted to talk to her about. “I’ve seen you taking your walks with Neji a lot these past few days.”

Her fingers stop for less than a second, and Naruto makes it as if nothing happened.

“I h-have asked him t-to accompany me on my s-strolls.”

Which Naruto knows, because Sai has shared as much, but the question remains, “I thought you didn’t have that great of a relationship with him.” He remains on the floor, with his head on her, doing his best not to overwhelm her.

Hinata keeps quiet a second, but Naruto knows it is her putting her thoughts in order as her fingers trace absent-minded patterns across his cheek.

“I… we have b-been talking about a lot of th-things. It’s been f-fun.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Uhm, we d-didn’t have the best ch-childhoods, I think.” Her voice gets lower, her breathing more controlled, “I… always wanted a r-relationship with him, I b-believe. He was the only one who… he w-was the only one who didn’t seem to h-hate me back then.”

Naruto raises his head, sits with his legs crossed facing her. Hinata looks at her hands, and doesn’t seem to want to look Naruto in the eyes. “He would do th-things that s-seemed to be for me, but then h-have the perfect excuse as to w-why do it for my f-father, so I thought… I w-wondered, you know, am I just a n-nuisance to him as w-well?”

Her voice is quiet, “I n-never knew… I couldn’t k-know, he barely talked b-back then,” she chuckles. Naruto offers his hand, touches hers with the softest of touches, and Hinata reciprocates, grabs his hand between hers. She is not crying. “It’s b-been good, talking to h-him. S-Sharing stories… having- h-having a relationship.”

Hinata fears tears will follow next, so she bites her lip. She knew she wanted to have a relationship with her cousin for a long time. For longer than a long time. He was the only thing keeping her from losing herself in screams and self-pity, he showed her the barest of kindness, the barest of encouragement and yet she treasured them, because that’s what they were in that house. Treasures. Tiny and yet important.

She would have loved to receive more.

And so she followed him. Bothered him. Looked for him for the things no one else would give her. And he did sometimes, and then he didn’t most times. And she still wonders whether it was duty or love or pity or a sense of at least being better off than her…

They still have yet to talk about the harsh stuff. They still have to talk about their actual relationship. Hinata yearns and fears that moment, but at least now… at least now she has a relationship with a person she holds so dear -against all odds-, a person she is ashamed to hold in such regards, and yet…

She is so happy she can walk with Neji and talk about the weather without worrying about what’s gonna appear as they turn the next corner, about the people walking around them, about what’s going to be reported back to her father, about the disgusted face her father would give her as she came ba-

“I’m glad, then.” Naruto’s warm hand brings her out of her trance, as he gets closer and searches for her eyes, as his hands move up and down her arms, as he brings her in for a hug. She feels herself relax, lays her head on his shoulder and lets him pamper her.

“Thanks, for… for t-taking care of him, t-too.”

Naruto remembers Neji’s silent work, as he asked for his help when Hiashi’s letter first came. The way he read the letter, explained what he thought all of this meant without even asking for them to be alone, his excellent work and his disposition. Never questioning Naruto, asking for permission to voice his opinions.

Nothing like the rude man who had faced him that first time.

Naruto tries to connect the rude man with the eager cousin. The cold asshole with the warm family member. But maybe none of that is important, because what he cares about is that his wife was able to make it this far with his… help.

And thanks to that she is with him now, and Neji has shown nothing but his best behavior. So Naruto puts his worries to the side, “I love you.”

Hinata chuckles as she buries her face in Naruto’s shoulder. Nothing matters. Nothing matters because Naruto is here.

Naruto wonders whether he should share with her his godfather’s news before his father arrives. But what would he say? And what would she say, too?

No answer is enough to let him relax, so he does the next best thing. He peppers kisses all over his wife’s face, filling the room with their laughs. And he remains quiet.

⁂⁂⁂

Minato arrives at the compound with Mito in tow and they stop in their tracks as they watch Jiraiya taking a stroll through the gardens with Naruto and Hinata.

Minato bolts towards his master, with a flustered Mito following behind.

“Master!”

“Oh, calm down, calm down, I’m not going anywhere!”

Jiraiya is the one to bring the excitement down, with laughs and pats in the back that make Minato’s high come down in an instant. There are anxious looks coming and going between Minato and Mito that Hinata catches but knows not how to feel about.

Naruto remains impassive and he is the one to offer they go and find a private room in which to talk.

Hinata feels her chest tighten slightly, and although in any other time Naruto’s tranquil attitude would help her calm herself, this time, she grows nervous.

Jiraiya starts to tell of his travels -as he did before with Naruto and Hinata-, and it is with a mixture of interest and obvious haste that Minato asks questions. He wants to know, but he also doesn’t care about anything at all but whatever information can help Naruto. And yet he fears to hear no new information at all, or anything worthwhile.

Lady Mito remains quiet, staring at Jiraiya with her eyes shining in anticipation. Jiraiya is stuck between a rock and a hard place. He tries to gauge the room’s ambience, tries to control the emotions that reach him and he ends up anchoring himself in Naruto.

Naruto and his tight smile.

Naruto and his resigned attitude. Out of anyone in this room, he knows what will follow. It’s what always follows whenever Jiraiya comes back, pleas and requests he never answers.

He can never answer them.

And now, although Jiraiya should feel accomplished and happy, although his travels have at long last brought forth an answer, he dreads talking about it.

He knows what comes next. And Naruto stares at him, without blinking. Waiting to remain quiet and bear the sure goading that will follow.

“What?” Minato catches on, and his eyes travel from his son to his master. “What’s going on?”

“So,” Jiraiya starts, “good news first, I learned of a technique that allows one to… uh, gather energy from the environment and replenish the user’s.”

He looks around, with a face that asks for some smiles or positive feedback. Hinata gives him a faint smile and Jiraiya smiles back. She doesn’t know what this is about.

“And?” Minato urges, and whatever ambience Jiraiya had been able to bring into the room disappears in a second.

“You know, that means that the Beast will take less of a toll on Naruto’s body.”

“Good, then why aren’t you as excited?”

“It’s… you gather energy from the environment but it asks for the user to become one with nature, so it entails extreme meditation and barely moving a muscle-”

“I could do that,” chimes in Naruto.

Jiraiya nods to him, “Good, good, it will help. But, uh, I’m not as excited because from what I could tell from the quick check I did on Naruto, well…”

“It took a toll, right?” Minato hates the idea, but Naruto just came out of a forced tearing of the seal. For him to come out of it unscathed is just, idealistic. “The forced tearing of the seal took a toll on Naruto’s body that you can’t fix, right?”

“Good news is, it can be fixed, in fact, I think it will be fixed if he adds this new technique. Bad news is just-”

“We’re back on square one,” Naruto finishes.

Lady Mito makes fist of her hands. Naruto’s life could have been extended… if none of this would have happened. But it did.

At least… at least they’re on square one…

At least they are back where they were before.

Lady Mito feels her emotions going unchecked and raises her head to compose herself. But then sees Jiraiya’s eyes locked on Naruto’s and her heart squeezes. “What is it?”

Naruto’s eyes flash to her, almost ashamed, and she fears, anguishes over what’s to come.

“Well,” Jiraiya starts again. Minato keeps his eyes glued to the floor. “Do you remember what we talked about, long ago?”

Lady Mito tilts her head. They have talked about so many a thing regarding Naruto’s seal. Each time with a little more urgency. “Would you mind refreshing my memory?”

Jiraiya lets out a heavy sigh and then blurts out everything all at once, “Back then we surmised that the Beast’s chakra seeping out of Naruto for so long meant we could in turn add something to the seal that could, you know, help with that, and if Naruto’s body didn’t have to worry about that, then, in turn, it may send resources to keep himself alive instead of sealing the Beast.”

Lady Mito doesn’t ask. Fears the answer.

“Do you remember?”

“Yes.”

“It’s done.”

Naruto doesn’t move a muscle and the euphoria of having something so tangible in front of her is enough to send Lady Mito in a spiral of anger towards the stubbornness of her grandson.

“Does that,” she tempers her exhilaration, “does that mean that Naruto would have a normal… normal lifespan?”

“If he undergoes the procedure then he will have a longer life compared to what we expected before, yes.”

All eyes fall on Naruto. His eyes fixed on his godfather.

“If I undergo the procedure, will I be able to use the Beast’s chakra as usual?”

“No.”

Naruto evades everyone’s eyes, stares to the floor for a second and then answers, “then it’s not an option.”

Jiraiya is the only one who seems to accept this answer. As Minato and Lady Mito open their mouths trying to find anything to say, but keeping quiet in hopes that the other would talk first.

HInata looks at everyone in turns, her last glance at Naruto's profile, whose jaw is tight. And then she stares at the floor. Quiet.

“Why not?” says Minato, and Lady Mito seems to want to drill a hole in Naruto’s mind in search of an answer.

“We have just been attacked by a clan that was thought to be dead, we are now under unprecedented times with a truce between Beast Tamers and- hell, even if we were under normal circumstances it doesn’t make sense for us to give away our best card against enemies.”

“We can fight without your Beast. We can put up a fight.”

“Putting up a fight doesn’t sound that promising, dad, sorry.”

“We can fight without your Beast, Naruto.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“We have better guards and patrols and people on our side, and Shikamaru-”

“I remember an attack happening and reaching the inner compound a year and a half ago.”

“Even without the Beast you could have handled it.”

“But what if I couldn’t?”

“If you’re going to go down that way, then what, are you going to keep that damned Beast to protect us from even the weakest of enemies? You’d rather obliterate whoever comes than to try to keep yourself-”

“Listen,” Naruto presses his hand forward, stares his father down, “I am in charge of protecting this clan, and I will do that. If that means keeping this damned Beast inside of me then I will.”

“Naruto-”

“Dad. Even you can’t be sure of what’s to come now. Who would have thought an Uchiha would appear? How long till a clan breaks the truce between Beast Tamers? How long till a bunch of clans come together and try an attack?”

Hinata feels her chest being pressed down, but does her best not to lose her composure. She wishes Naruto’s answers weren’t so obvious, weren’t so factual, she wishes he were more selfish or weaker. But he remains unfazed, unflinching, and so Hinata bites down whatever tries to come out of her.

“Maybe further down the road, dad… maybe, when we can be more sure of what’s to come.”

Lies, though. Because Naruto knows enemies won’t stop appearing, and not even Shikamaru is able to come down with predictions for the future that are without a surprise. But Naruto knows the people in this room worry for him, so his tough persona crumbles down a little. Just a little, just a second.

“Further down the road won’t give you as much time, son…”

“I know… I know.”

Jiraiya believes some ripples will turn up regarding this matter, but the thick of it is now dealt with. He believes that if Minato can’t change Naruto’s opinion, then it’s not even worth it for him to try. He believes everyone in the room thinks that Minato is their last resort, maybe Naruto’s wife, but seeing her biting her lip and looking like talking is the harshest of tasks is enough to realize she won’t add on the issue.

But then Lady Mito speaks.

“If we could talk with our people and improve our security?”

“Grandma Mito…”

“If we could get all of this approved by Shikamaru? I know how much you trust him, we would get his approval first, and then-”

“Grandma Mito.”

The room is silent, and then Naruto closes his eyes in pain, “Please, just, not now.”

Lady Mito is shaken, “We have the chance to recover so much time, Naruto.”

“I know.”

“You could live till- till you’re 50, 52 maybe. Naruto, this is such a gift.”

“We can’t now. If we are under attack and I can’t use my powers as usual it could mean-”

“We would protect the clan!”

“So what? You know how much the Nine-Tails chakra means in a fight, jeez, you know why whole ass clans try to get their hands on the Beasts, it’s because we win wars.”

“We are not under war.”

“We are not under war now, yes. Am I really the only one worried about the Uchiha’s going around? The same ones that were able to knock me out by looking at my eyes?”

“Now everyone is preparing countermeasures, you are ready to fight them again-”

“Am I, though? What if I’m not?”

Lady Mito snarls, “Then we would step up.”

“And then a bunch of my people die. No, thanks.”

“Because now only you would die, right?”

Lady Mito feels white hot rage filling her. Because all of this could have been dealt with if she had been here when her daughter was attacked. And then she could have spared her grandson from this. All of this. But she wasn’t here. She is never here. And she hates it, and she hates it, and she hates it. She is desperate. She is guilty. She wants to cling to Naruto’s robes and beg and plead and cry and whine and never let go until he decides he is more important than them.

She wants him to want to stay here.

She lays eyes on Hinata, and Naruto puts his arm in front of her, his other hand pointing at her, “Don’t you dare.”

She is hurt. She is hurt and she is trying to come up with any kind of excuse that can shake her grandson’s resolve even a little. Enough to make his dumb stubborness crumble. She means to bring Hinata into the discussion, but Naruto shows his fangs too, and now Lady Mito wants to bawl.

See? See how much you care? So her brain focuses on this tiny little bit of hope, and doesn’t think too much about it. It’s a fear of hers, too. It’s something she would never say out loud, because it’s a low blow. Something she regrets the moment it comes out of her mouth.

“Don’t you want to see your child grow?”

She freezes the second after, and she can feel Minato’s eyes on her.

Naruto’s blue eyes open wide, impossibly so. He’s hurt and ashamed and his resolve does crumble. She can see that. He stares a second and she thinks he is going to cry.

But he whips his head the other way, and leaves the room in haste.

Nobody moves a muscle and Lady Mito whispers after a few seconds, “I’m sorry.”

But nobody blames her. They can’t.

It’s Hinata that stands then, with her hand on her belly.

“Hinata…,” starts Lady Mito, but Hinata looks at her with empathy in her eyes.

“It’s o-okay.”

She follows after Naruto and finds him near a flower patch, under a tree. He stands there, but doesn’t let his weight rest on the trunk.

He feels her before she can say anything.

“Just give me a minute, love.”

But she can’t. Not now. So she keeps on walking and stops just behind him. Her hand to his back.

“Please.”

“N-Naruto.”

He doesn’t move.

“Naruto.”

He turns to her, and his eyes shine. His hair looks blonder than ever under the sunlight and he’s close to tears. He opens his mouth, trying to justify his actions, lest Hinata think he doesn’t actually care about her, about their child.

But he doesn’t get to say anything, because Hinata brings her hand to his face, to his whisker marks. She drags her fingers along, “I-It’s okay,” she whispers.

And Naruto breaks.

His tears fall and his lip trembles, and it’s not until Hinata brings him into her that he buries his face on her shoulder and shudders as he gasps for air.

“It’s okay.”

#naruto #naruhina #Naruto Uzumaki #Hinata Hyuga #uzumaki naruto #hyuga hinata #fanfiction #fanfic #beast tamers #ch.9 #part 4 #Mito just says things sometimes out of desperation you know #ಥ_ಥ #she just cares too much #and feels super guilty about everything all the time #have a great one!!#see you next week #(❁´◡`❁)

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milalane · 4 years ago

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Silver doodles

Comment your favorite/comfort character!! I want to draw them

Sooo Silver has become my comfort character this past couple of weeks, so I decided to dedicate a page to this baby. This is actually the first filled page I've ever done cuz I usually give up half way through jajsja.

There are also some headcannons hidden there. I will share a couple now. First I hc Silver being incredibly sensitive to even slightly cold weather, since he was so used to the really hot weather of the future, that's why he usually wears hoodies and sweaters. He has insomnia but he doesn't know what that is. He's always in the verge of going insane, any minor inconvenience makes him want to kill someone but he has a very calm and pacific demeanor. HE'S OP- LIKE- A 16 Y.O. GOD but he doesn't like to use his powers to it's full potential cuz he doesn't have full control over them, so after using them he gets headaches and nosebleeds from exhaustion not because he's pushing himself a lot but because he has to hold back too much. He gets a little moon mark on his forehead and tears-like lines on his cheeks when using his powers for to long. He's a child, an impressionable baby, every little thing amazes him. And lastly, he has a love-hate relationship with Shadow and he's best friends with Tails because they both have a i-dont-feel-like-i-belong feeling, despite their HUGE height difference since Silver is also a very TALL soft boy, taller than the rest of the group. That's all, it's kinda long but there's so much more jsjs.

#sonic #sonic fanart #sonic the hedgehog #soniccharacters #sonicthehedgehog #sonicx #silver #silver the hedgehog #sonic 06 #sonic headcanon

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sunshinemarauder · 4 years ago

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Winter's Speed — Jily Drabble

“The blood’s just from a nosebleed; don’t worry about it.”

Lily slowed to a stop in front of the almost-empty Quidditch field.

"James!"

She doubted he could hear her shouts. He was on his broom high up in the air, flying back and forth so fast that she could barely track him with her eyes.

"James!" Lily called again, louder this time.

The distant figure stopped flying at the speed of light for a moment, looking down at where Lily stood in the middle of the field, bundled up in coats and scarves to fight off the bone-biting Hogwarts winter.

Lily shivered as she waited for him to fly back down and dismount his broom.

"Potter! What in Merlin are you doing out here?" She asked, frowning, as he walked up to her.

He ran a hand (that didn't have a glove on, Lily noted) through his messy hair and offered her a bright smile.

"Just practicing speed. I have brilliant reflexes but apparently Farley beat my time. It's a disgrace, really."

Lily scowled up at him (yes, up— he was a good half-foot taller than her). "And somehow you thought that it was a good idea to fly in below-freezing weather without gloves or a jacket?"

James at least had the good sense to look sheepish as he shrugged.

Lily observed that he was only wearing a Gryffindor jumper. House pride was fine, but it wouldn't keep the cold away.

And no, she didn't stare when his jumper lifted a little bit from the shrugging motion to reveal a few inches of his stomach. She was just admiring the knitwork of the jumper, that was all.

James turned away, facing right. "I s'pose I could have taken a scarf, but no need to be worrying about me, Evans. Anyway, I'll just be on my—"

"James Potter, what in Merlin happened to your face?"

James' hand automatically flew up to cover his face and, to Lily's surprise, he looked alarmed.

Lily took a step closer to him and pulled down his hands from his face to reveal a very nasty looking reddish rash blossoming on his left cheek that went all the way down to his neck, and an open gash above his cheekbone.

She suddenly realized that his hands were still in hers, and she dropped them quickly.

"It's nothing, really," James said hastily, turning away from her immediately. "Got a little knocked up at Quidditch practice earlier. The blood's just from a nosebleed; don't worry about it."

Lily didn't believe that for a second. Did he take her for a simpleton? Sure, bludgers could do some damage, but even she, who was apathetic to Quidditch, knew that this was certainly not from the sport. A bludger to the head didn't cause a swelling rash and a nosebleed certainly didn't cause a gash on the cheek. Plus, the tightness in his eyes and the firm set in his jaw pretty much gave it away.

"Spare me the flowery tales, Potter. What really happened?"

The moment she saw his guilty look she knew it was going to be bad.

"Oh, no..." Lily breathed, realizing what must have happened. "This was because of Rosier and Avery, wasn't it?"

Something in her tone must have set him off, because James straightened up, his eyes ablaze.

"They deserved it! Merlin, Lily, after what they said to you, it took all my self-control not to hex them into oblivion!"

Lily glared at him, trying to ignore the way her name on his lips made her stomach flip. "How many bloody times do I have to tell you that you don't need to protect me? I'm perfectly capable of holding my own and I decided that those idiots weren't worth any more of my time. Why do you have to keep going and meddling into what's none of your bloody business just to prove that you're some sort of hero? You've got enough problems to deal with on your own! Why don't you start with that arrogance of yours?"

Lily realized what she was saying too late as she watched her words hit James like a hex. He flinched, drawing back like he had been slapped.

"Shit," Lily whispered. "James, I—"

"No, I get it," He said coldly. "Wouldn't want arrogant Potter to get beaten up on your behalf. He must have been doing it for laughs anyway."

Lily's hands were trembling as she took another step forward. "No, that's not what I meant, I just—"

Part 2

#jily #jily drabbles #drabbles #gosh i just love them #jily 7th year #hogwarts jily #jily oneshot #text

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chaseatinydream · 4 years ago

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pirate king (42) || atz

You’re lost in dreams once more.

It’s dark all about you, you’re swamped in pitch blackness, flailing helplessly. Uncontrollable panic surges in you like a wave and threatens to engulf you completely, but you force it down, looking around desperately, searching for a way out.

You can’t see anything.

Falling for an eternity in slow motion, you rotate about slowly as coolness sweeps over your body, leeching the warmth from your skin down to your bones. You’re descending, falling, sinking, into what, you don’t know, but then all of a sudden, without rhyme or reason, the fear deep in you clears, dissipating like smoke.

In the space of a single breath, you’re suddenly bathed in a dim, strange, red glow. You look up, bubbles escaping your mouth, and your eyes widen at the sight before you.

It’s the eye from your dreams.

It hasn’t changed one bit since the last time you saw it, still an unnatural, metallic shade of crimson surrounding a black circle in the very center. The unearthly luminescence from it illuminates its form just enough for you to catch a glimpse of long, twisting tentacles, unravelling and curling around a shadowy form that blends with the darkness behind it.

It’s humongous, monstrous, in every sense of the word.

Shock bounds up in you, but for some reason, the fear you expect never comes. Instead, by instinct, you reach out for it with your lips parted in awe, taking in the magnificence of such a strange, yet beautiful monster.

The light coming from the crimson eye shifts and bends, strange, chilling sounds in your ears as a low, keening cry reaches you. The call is eerie and haunting, high enough to send blood-curling shivers down your spine and yet at the same time low for you to feel the vibrations in your chest.

“He’s cominggggg…”

The words simply drift into your mind as a low, pained wail swirls around you, a ghostly groan that makes every hair stand at the end. The crimson eye continues staring unblinkingly at you, beseeching you to understand. There’s a hint of raw desperation in the creature’s call, but it’s so real you can feel your own heart sinking in your chest.

“He’s coming for me…”

Your breath catches in your throat, an invisible noose tightening around your neck that chokes you of all the air in your lungs. Fear, cold as ice, slithers down your back and spreads to the very tips of your fingers and toes, numbing your body.

“And he’ll come for you nextttt…”

The cry rises in volume, getting louder and louder until it’s reverberating in the water all around you, ringing in your ears. Your mind doesn’t know what’s going on in the least, but some sort of foreboding awakens in you, deep and primal in your body, clawing its way into your lungs and tearing painfully at your heart.

You’re terrified to the very core.

“Runnnn…” The voice whispers one last time, begging you, before darkness swirls around it and engulfs it, yanking it back into the depths where light from above can never reach, lost from you forever.

You start awake, heart racing in your chest as you heave for breath. Your fingers are numb and frozen with fear, and when you glance down at them, you realise they’re trembling uncontrollably from terror.

What was that?

A splotch of merlot suddenly blossoms on the rough cloth of your blanket like the fallen petal of a blooming rose and you stare at it for a moment, stunned. Another dot of crimson, another blotch of scarlet and you raise a hesitant, quivering hand to your nose.

When you pull away, there’s a smear of red on the back of your hand.

You sigh.

Another nosebleed, you shake your head, pulling the handkerchief Seonghwa had given you before to wipe the blood from your hands, attempting to clean the crimson smudges on your blanket, but to no avail. You follow San’s instructions, pinching your nose at the bridge and tilting your head forward, waiting for the bleeding to stop.

The sound of your master’s light snoring echoes around the small room the two of you share as you wipe your nose once more. The light trickle of red is gone now, much to your relief. You’d hate to make a mess.

Glancing around the dark cabin, you see your master on the bed opposite yours, completely knocked out cold from the alcohol. Speaking of alcohol, you frown, staring down at yourself and the bed you’re in. Confusion clouds your mind for a moment.

How did you get here?

The last you remember, you had fallen asleep against Yeosang on the main deck. Maybe you had walked here, half asleep and a little drunk, all on your own? Then you cock your head to the side for a moment. No… that doesn’t seem quite right, but what other explanation could there be?

It’s the dream fairy. Go back to sleep, Chin Hae.

You frown at the odd words that spill over into your mind, shaking them off. You probably got quite drunk, to the point you started imagining things. Dream fairy? You snort at yourself. You didn’t know your mind was that creative.

Your hand reaches up into your hair, but it’s surprised to find the hairpin missing, your hair in loose waves around your face and neck. Panic descends on you as you spin around to look for that silver hairpin, but then you’re relieved to find it sitting obediently on your bedside table, safe and sound.

Breathing a soft sigh of solace, you tuck it into your belt securely. Right there, where it belongs.

You glance back at your pillows, tempted to return to sleep, but then a little nagging feeling tugs at your mind. You search around in your consciousness, trying to figure out exactly what it is, but it’s like searching for something in an empty room. You sigh, moving towards the door. Maybe you’ll take a short walk on the main deck. The sea air should help clear your mind.

Unlatching the door, your footsteps echo in the lonely night. The deck is completely empty of people, your crew mates all having retreated back into their bunks in the lower deck. There’s evidence of their intense partying from the night before, tankards strewn across the deck, the odd article of clothing lying here and there. You even recognise one of your master’s boots hanging from the yardarm of the mizzenmast, although how it got all the way up there, you don’t want to know.

Seonghwa is going to have a field day cleaning all of this up in the morning.

You shake your head and are about to go into the kitchen to grab a drink of water when you hear soft humming coming from above you at the forecastle deck.

You start a little at the noise. You may not be as alone as you thought, after all.

Your feet carry you up the stairs to the upper deck, curious to who you might see there. To your surprise, the first thing that catches your eye in the gloom is a bright red jacket, then the back of a neatly kept mullet.

It’s your captain.

He’s seated cross legged on against the railings with a blanket in his lap and a bottle of alcohol in hand, head tilted back to gaze at the night sky above as he hums a soft tune. Hongjoong must hear your footsteps on the floorboards, because he abruptly stops whistling and turns around to glance at who it is. When he sees that it’s you, he straightens up and smiles a little, beckoning you over to join him.

You don’t turn down the offer, silently seating yourself next to him.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

You hum in agreement as you slide next to him, curling yourself into a ball to preserve body heat. The nights have started to get colder, you realise, rubbing your hands on your arms to keep yourself warm. A little strange, San had told you a few days ago, but there was just no explaining nature sometimes. Your captain, ever observant, glances at you for a second.

“Cold?”

Nodding, you blow on your fingers to keep yourself warm, but to your surprise Hongjoong lifts the blanket from his lap, putting it around your shoulders. You’re about to insist he keep it for himself because he’s the captain and he must be feeling cold as well, but he merely joins you under the blanket as well, huddling together like two penguins in the cold.

You smile gratefully as him as he takes your cold fingers in his warmer ones, rubbing them to get the blood flowing through once more.

“What about you, captain?”

Your captain exhales softly through his mouth as he takes a swig from his bottle, whiskey, you read off the yellowed, peeling label on the side. “I’m having dreams. Ones that confuse me.”

Curiosity spikes in you a little and you turn to look at him. It’s similar to what you’re experiencing, so you think you can empathise with him. “What dreams?”

The alcohol must have loosened your captain’s tongue, because he spills out everything to you without the least bit of hesitation.

“I keep having the same dream repeat over and over again.” He breathes into the night air, his words forming tiny white puffs that dissipate before your eyes. “It’s the same deserted island my father abandoned me on as a child.”

Coldness creeps over your heart as his words, clutching it tight. You didn’t hear him wrongly, did you? “Abandoned?” You repeat, unsure whether you’re the one who’s drunk instead. Mingi had told you, back on that pink sandy beach in Eleuthera, that Hongjoong had been tied to the mast of his uncle’s ship as a child, but you had never paused to consider how your captain had ended up there in the first place.

Hongjoong either ignores the plain incredulousness of your words or doesn’t take any notice of it, taking another swill of his drink, swirling the bottle around as he begins to speak once more. “My father called me a half breed and brought me on a voyage. When we reached the island, he threw me onto the beach and shot me in the head. The bullet hit me here.” He taps his eye patch absentmindedly. However, it’s not the words he speaks, instead, his voice is what shocks you the most. It’s completely devoid of anger or resentment, almost frighteningly neutral, as if he’s speaking about the odd weather and not how he’d almost died at the hands of his own father.

“I remember passing out, blood gushing everywhere from my eye.” He reminisces, oblivious to your horrified stare, lost in memories of long ago. “I thought I’d died, but then I woke up again, with this knot in hand.” His hand reaches up to his collar to tug at the short length of rope tied around his neck, the final knot left there a grim reminder of your mishaps back on Nassau. “That’s all I knew happened.”

Then suddenly he reaches up to bury his hands in his hair, anxiously running his fingers through the blonde strands. You’re a little worried, but before you can ask him what’s wrong, he continues speaking, the words flowing from him completely unfettered.

“But I’ve just been having these dreams lately, ever since we left the sea witch’s island.” He rambles, fingers drumming on the floorboards nervously. You frown, afraid that the magic of the island may have affected him somehow, but he simply continues speaking before you can ask him about it.

“I see this every time I close my eyes.” He chatters on, waving his hands in front of his face for extra emphasis. This is a side of your captain you’ve never seen before, Hongjoong tends to be quiet and keeps his problems to himself. Wooyoung had once joked that your captain is more tight lipped than an oyster with a pearl when it comes to his issues, but you’re glad to be able to be there when he lets himself loose a little. “A woman… with silver hair the colour of sea foam in the moonlight, curling like ocean waves over her shoulders.”

You baulk a little at the overly dramatic description, but Hongjoong laughs derisively at himself, taking another long drag of alcohol, coughing a little before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I’m being a little poetic with all this nonsense right now, aren’t I?” He asks no one in particular, setting the bottle down on the ground with a heavy thunk. “She tells me something, but I can’t for the life of me remember her face. Is this what you feel like all the time, Chin Hae?”

Yeah, he’s definitely drunk. Your captain is never this open in front of you. Now that you think about it, you’ve never seen him speak about his troubles to anyone, even though he’s someone the crew goes to with their problems.

But you don’t think this is the right time to tell him what you’ve noticed, so you merely nod in agreement. “Yeah.”

He squeezes his eyes tight like you’ve done so many times, searching his mind for a memory that simply does not exist there any longer. “She keeps telling me ‘Please wait. I promise that I’ll have one that you know one day’. I just… I don’t understand.”

The words are strange without a context and you glance at your captain’s half lidded eyes and pout as he takes another sip. He looks like a small, curious child once again, pondering the mysteries and secrets of the infinite world around him through innocent lenses, even though he’s seen and probably caused a lot more bloodshed and death than you could ever imagine.

You’re reminded of the word duality. Both your captain and Wooyoung seem to be epitomes of it, genuinely kind-hearted and sweet people one moment and the next… honestly, you don’t know. After thinking about it a few days back about Mingi’s words, you had realised that even though you’d stayed with them for quite a while so far, you’d never gotten to see a glimpse of their rumoured ‘dark sides’.

Not that you want to have a reason to see it, but you must confess that you’re curious.

“What exactly don’t I remember?” You captain continues running his mouth and you listen thoughtfully, nodding your head. “It’s eating away at my mind all the time and I just don’t know what to do… I think that woman saved my life and I want to find her somehow, but I don’t know how. Chin Hae, how do you deal with it?”

You’re shocked out of your own thoughts when your captain suddenly addresses you, and you chew your lip as you try to think of a suitable answer. “Well...I just distract myself with work, I guess… I mean, I made the choice to give up my memories, so there’s no chance of me ever getting them back. I just sort of… gave up.”

Your words are bordering on incoherent as you try to explain yourself, but Hongjoong seems to get it anyway. His lips twitch a little on his face, adorable as a bunny, before he turns to look at you with a genuine, free smile that you never see on his face except when he thinks he’s alone, steering the ship at the wheel.

It feels like getting hit by a galloping horse in the chest, but it’s one you’re happy to get run over by.

“Thanks, Chin Hae.” He grins brightly for a moment. His eyes are a little clouded over with alcohol, his usually sharp green eye softened around the edges as he looks at you. Then he yawns, stretching his arms above him, and the blanket falls from his shoulders. “I think I’ll be able to get a good night’s rest now. I should have spoken to you sooner.”

You’re a little embarrassed, because you barely did anything and your captain is thanking you already. But you can’t bear to argue with him when he’s got that innocent, guileless smile on his face, so you merely nod in return.

“It was my pleasure, captain.”

At that, Hongjoong pouts as he gets to his feet, swaying a little before he catches his balance. “Oh come on, Chin Hae. That’s just mean. You’ve started calling everyone oppa except for me~” He whines, puffing out his cheeks as he stares at you with an upset look. You shake your head, but your heart flutters for a moment at his child-like gaze.

Yep, definitely drunk.

“We should get back to sleep.” You smile, feeling like you’re babying your fearsome captain for a moment. He makes a ‘hmpf’, crossing his arms with a pout, but he gets up anyway and the two of you walk back down the the main deck in comfortable silence. When you reach the captain’s cabin, Hongjoong turns back to look at you once more with a pleading expression, his hand lingering on the doorknob.

You cave. Just this once, then.

“Goodnight, Hongjoong-oppa.”

At that, a happy, unrestrained smile breaks out on his face, too joyous to be something just warranted from a simple calling of his name. But it makes him so delighted, you can see, and for a moment you wonder if you should just start calling him by name to see this expression on him once more.

“Goodnight, Chin Hae.” He replies, rocking back and forth on his feet happily. Then he gives you a heart stopping smile, one that you feel literally just ripped your heart from your chest and stamped it into a million pieces. “Sweet dreams.”

Then he slips into the cabin, the door closing behind him with a soft click.

Shaking your head at your own thoughts, you laugh quietly to yourself. Who’s the one being overly poetic now? You step into the sickbay, making your way to the room you and San share. To your surprise, your master is sitting up on his bed, blearily rubbing at his eyes as he clutches his Shiber plush to his chest, before his gaze finally lands on you.

“Why are you awake, master?” You ask, sitting down on your own bed to glance at him. He’s probably still half asleep, from the way his head keeps lolling forward cutely, eyes never lingering on your face for long. His voice is a soft, cute rasp, thick from sleep.

“I woke up and you were gone.” Is his only explanation as he catches himself before he nods off. “I was waiting for you to get back.”

Your heart warms at your master’s sleepy face as you lie back down on your bed.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” San asks drowsily as he scratches his green hair, letting out a little yawn. You smile at his thoughtfulness.

“I had a bad dream-” You begin to say, but then San stands up abruptly, still yawning, moving over to you. You frown in confusion as he crosses over to you, sitting next to you on your bed. “Master?”

“Go to sleep.” He mumbles, wrapping his arms around your middle and tucking his face into your shoulder blade. With the other hand he puts something soft and pillowy into your arms, his precious Shiber plush, you realise with shock. When you glance back at your master, he squeezes you tighter, eyes already shut tight. “Goodnight, Chin Hae.”

You pull Shiber to your chest, leaning against your master as his soft breathing tickles the shell of your ear.

“Goodnight, San.”

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #ateez pirate king #w; ot8 #w; fanfiction #w; pirate king

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melissart · 4 years ago

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Say One Thing, Mean Another (Kaidou Shun/Saiki Kusuo)

Summary:

Reading thoughts and reading feelings were two completely different abilities. Most people had a monologue always running in their heads, conveniently narrating their every experience. Call it spotlight effect, call it middle school syndrome, call it romanticization—whatever you called it, Saiki would know, because he could simply read your mind. But some desires were so unconscious that even Saiki couldn’t read them.

No one was more repressed than the self-deluded cram school mama’s boy: Kaidou Shun.

AO3 link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28999770

Read below

No one was more repressed than the self-deluded cram school mama’s boy: Kaidou Shun. Kaidou thought “first base” was holding hands, and even that thought reduced him into a blushing, stuttering, face-hiding mess. He couldn’t even access objective reality half the time, much less access his deepest feelings. Saiki couldn’t even imagine how Kaidou might handle such overwhelming emotions, given how easily at the slightest of confrontations. He once saw Kaidou cry at a convenience store because he couldn’t decide between two compelling brands of instant noodles (Best around or best in town? Around? In town? Around? In town? Aroundintownaroundintownaroundintown...) Needless to say, Kaidou was the most likely candidate to be hiding a dark secret.

None of that Dark Reunion fantasy bullshit. Saiki meant a real dark secret, the kind of revelation that could make a mute man gasp. Just because Kaidou cried when someone tried to tell him a “yo mama” joke doesn’t mean he can’t hide his feelings when it mattered the most. Growing up with a strict mother ruined his values for honesty. Kaidou’s lying was almost on a pathological level, with boundless creativity that showed in the character sheet journals hidden under his bed. He was sometimes so good he fooled himself, but glimmers of the truth shone through in unexpected moments.

It started with a fit of laughter in their lunchtime group. Nendou swore he could handle chopsticks up his nose with enough dexterity to pick up a cherry tomato. Admittedly, he almost succeeded, but Aren flinched away in disgust because he didn’t want to have his lunch contaminated by Nendou’s nose-chopsticks, and the sudden movement accidentally led to Aren’s elbow shoving one of Nendou’s nose-chopsticks too far up, which then caused a ridiculous-looking nosebleed down the chopsticks and into Nendou’s rice.

Saiki’s first thought was ew, but then he caught a quick glance from Kaidou while he was bursting into tears laughing, and suddenly, he couldn’t stop himself from exercising the stiff muscles around his lips into a smile. Kaidou was checking if Saiki thought it was funny, too, as if he needed permission to continue laughing. Saiki didn’t care about pride and certainly didn’t prescribe to any notions of toxic masculinity, but the thought of being the alpha male with Kaidou gave him a good feeling. A feeling that just felt… good.

Saiki still couldn’t read feelings well, not even his own, but he had a strong sense for logic. Kaidou was smaller, weaker, with a kind of reckless yet innocent boyish charm that made him hard to look away from at times. Anyone’s instincts would tell them that Kaidou must be protected at all costs and Saiki, with all of his godlike abilities, was obviously the most qualified person to protect him.

Again, Saiki was bad with unconscious desires. He found himself following that instinct to protect Kaidou in the smallest of moments. Although Saiki protected all of his friends (and humanity) from danger, even Nendou started noticing Saiki’s special treatment of Kaidou.

“Th-Th-The hellfire th-that the Dark Reunion has c-c-cursed me with a-a-always keeps me w-warm,” Kaidou bluffed, on an especially frigid winter day.

What he meant was that the puffy pink jacket his mom tried to send him to school with was too embarrassing, so he lied and told her the weather was supposed to be warmer later. Honestly, Saiki didn’t even need his clairvoyance to predict that. He immediately shoved the extra coat he brought to school at Kaidou. Kaidou got sick too easily, especially with the long nights he spent studying and the longer nights he spent writing fanfictions. Saiki even pre-heated the coat with his pyrokinesis.

“E-Eh? That’s for me, Saiki?” In hindsight, Kaidou was a little too eager to accept Saiki’s coat and he must have definitely sniffed it to see if Saiki’s scent was on it while he thought nobody was looking. “Ah, it’s so warm!” All talk of the Dark Reunion was dropped. Kaidou beamed at Saiki brightly. “Thank you, Saiki!”

The pure look of elation in Kaidou’s crimson eyes as he smiled at Saiki, just Saiki, specifically Saiki, gave him that good feeling again.

Nendou glanced between the two. “You brought that extra coat just for him?”

“That’s just because—” Aren started, but then stopped. “Huh. Nendou’s right. That is very considerate of you, Saiki.”

Saiki didn’t usually slip up and cause himself unnecessary attention, but he brushed it off and convinced himself he was only acting in self-interest. Seriously, it would be a pain if he had to put up with Kaidou calling him in the middle of the night to complain about his symptoms. Kaidou always called him at odd hours of the night, usually to spew some cryptic warnings about lurking enemies, and every time, Saiki delayed his sweet REM cycle just to placate him. It made no sense to call a mute man. (But it made even less sense that Saiki always picked up.)

“Saiki is always reliable,” Kaidou argued. “That’s why, when the Dark Reunion strikes back—”

Then, Kaidou proceeded to plagiarize the plot of the Star Wars episode “The Empire Strikes Back”. Saiki was too busy watching the self-insert adventure inside Kaidou’s mind to question the extent of his admiration of Saiki. Out of everyone, Kaidou’s thoughts were the most interesting to read. Kaidou’s imagination came in full technicolor, with exciting camera angles and cinematography professional enough to be entered in film festivals. When there was nothing good on TV, Saiki sometimes tuned into Kaidou’s thoughts for entertainment. Kaidou managed to distract everyone else from Saiki’s strange favor, too.

Saiki should have realized earlier how powerful Kaidou’s redirection was, effective enough to rival Chouno’s magic tricks. Kaidou was easy to underestimate, but the sheer amount of lies he told on a daily basis was proof of his true manipulative nature.

No, “manipulative” was overshooting it. Kaidou was just conditioned by his social anxiety to lie in everyday situations to preserve his self-image. Saiki knew that struggle better than anyone else, just in the opposite direction: dedicating his life to feigning normalcy. Yet, even though Saiki was the one who regularly erased memories, time traveled, and rewrote reality to maintain the status quo, Kaidou was still the one who went overboard in comparison.

Saiki and Kaidou were walking home together one day, just the two of them, because Aren usually took another way home and Nendou had baseball practice. Kaidou was filling Saiki in about the latest addition to the Dark Reunion saga, complete with a mini movie in his mind to accompany his narration: Kaidou had tamed a wild beast that was terrorizing a small village, which later warmed up enough to become his consort, but the beast had been mind-controlled by the Dark Reunion the entire time as a spy to figure out Kaidou’s whereabouts, which then led to Kaidou breaking the beast free from its mind control using his own forbidden knowledge of the dark arts and returning the beast into the wild.

In reality, the “beast” was a chihuahua that was bothering a kid, but then started following Kaidou home. Kaidou wanted to keep the chihuahua, but his mother said no, because the chihuahua probably belonged to someone else, even though it had no collar. He had to kick the chihuahua out of his house in hopes that the small dog would eventually find its way home. Saiki was sure the entire mind control fabrication was some type of coping mechanism to help Kaidou feel less guilty about kicking the dog out onto the cold streets.

Then, Kaidou’s knuckles accidentally brushed against Saiki’s and Kaidou’s internal alarm rang loudly in both of their minds:

Wrong! Bad! Stupid! Just ignore it, just ignore it, just ignore it!

Kaidou was screaming so loudly in his mind that Saiki instinctively covered his ears, even though there was no external sound to cover his ears from. All of Kaidou’s thoughts had instantaneously spiralled into a frenzy of self-loathing, overwhelming to the point that Saiki couldn’t even decipher what exactly Kaidou was ashamed of. The situation caught him so off-guard that he ended up doing what any normal non-psychic person would do—he asked Kaidou what was wrong. With telepathy, of course. It was easy to get away with using telepathy for conversation since Kaidou was too ashamed to look at Saiki at that moment.

“N-Nothing’s wrong!” Kaidou’s blushing face said otherwise and he knew it. He suddenly stopped in his tracks. “No… I can’t lie to you any longer, Saiki. You deserve better than that. The truth is—”

And then Kaidou told another lie, this time centering around a growing imbalance between light and dark forces of the universe that, according to an ancient prophecy, only Kaidou could heal with the great power sealed away in his right hand that he still had yet to fully control. He went into full detail about the brutal training he endured, the battles of wit against his enemies, the secrets he had to keep from his loved ones to protect them from evil—all of which ironically described Saiki’s life more than Kaidou’s—and how lonely it was carrying such burdens, as heavy as the world on Atlas’ shoulders. The vivid montage played in Kaidou’s mind, returning his mental space to its usual deluded state. As usual, Kaidou went overboard with preserving his self-image.

Good grief…

Saiki kept walking and Kaidou had to run to catch up and everything was back to its usual rhythm, with Kaidou’s behavior matching his thoughts again. That was another weakness of Saiki’s. He was so insistent on keeping his boring life boring that he overlooked something important.

Kaidou never actually admitted what was bothering him.

Daniel Kahneman said, “When faced with a difficult question, we often answer an easier one instead, usually without noticing the substitution.” Saiki asked Kaidou, “What’s wrong?” but accepted the answer to “What’s your made-up hero’s burden?” without noticing the substitution. Saiki wanted to protect Kaidou, but he couldn’t cross any boundaries. What if Kaidou was put off by Saiki’s insistence and gossiped about how pushy Saiki was? What if Kaidou took it the wrong way and it caused a falling out between them? What if Kaidou just started crying and all the passersby assumed Saiki had just said something awful to his own friend? There were too many risks. If Kaidou refused to think about what was bothering him, then Saiki just wouldn’t know.

It was better that way. Kaidou had a right to his privacy, which was limited enough by Saiki’s mind reading. Saiki didn’t have a right to any of it—Kaido’s thoughts, Kaido’s secrets, and especially Kaido’s friendship. He was sure Kaido would’ve been better off without a killjoy mute friend that constantly invaded the personal thoughts of everyone around him. The less they knew about each other’s lives, the easier life would be. It was a simple formula that guaranteed success.

If only life were actually that simple. The only law Saiki’s universe followed was Murphy’s Law.

Kaidou’s screaming thoughts started coming more frequently and it was always Saiki that set it off. When their eyes met from across the cafeteria, when they were the last ones awake during a late night group study session, when they reached for the same cafeteria item at the same time—screaming. Kaidou was getting better at not letting it show on the outside, but that only made the self-loathing episodes louder and longer. And still, even with psychic powers, Saiki had no idea why exactly Kaidou was in so much anguish when he was near. All he knew was that it was getting worse.

Saiki was a psychic, not a psychologist. He had to use his logic for situations like this. Kaidou felt awful around him and Saiki didn’t want Kaidou to feel awful, so obviously Saiki just had to avoid Kaidou to resolve the issue.

So, he did. He didn’t want to. He wanted to share an umbrella with Kaidou when he left his at home on purpose to avoid being made fun of for using his mom’s frilly, pinky parasol with roses, he wanted to answer Kaidou’s phone calls at 2 AM to comfort him after his recurring nightmare of drowning in the ocean, he wanted to proofread Kaidou’s fanfiction for any grammar or plot holes, he wanted to part the clouds and let the golden sunshine follow Kaidou’s every step so he never had to complain about gloomy days, he wanted to be there for Kaidou—of course he did! He didn’t know why, and he didn’t care to know why, because he just did and couldn’t because the most important thing he had to do was to protect Kaidou. He would gladly transfer schools to Siberia if it meant Kaidou could be happy and that’s all that mattered.

Of course, things never went Saiki’s way for too long. Kaidou came ringing at his front gate not too long after Saiki started avoiding him. Mikoto would say it’s all a balancing act, making up for Saiki’s intervention by having it all come back to bite him in the butt—strangely reminiscent of what Kaidou previously mentioned about the imbalance of light and dark. It made Saiki wonder if there had always been grains of truth in the lies.

He let Kaidou in and led him to his room. Even now, he could hear the tumultuous chaos in Kaidou’s mind.

I shouldn’t be here! This is stupid! I’m so awful!

Saiki internally sighed. Why are you here, then? Good grief.

Saiki sat on his bed and waited for Kaidou to conjure up whatever nonsense he thought could justify his visit. He was already used to people’s actions not aligning with their thoughts. This was no different.

I should tell him, already.

Instead, Kaidou became fixated on the first distraction that caught his eyes. “Geez! It’s so dark in here, Saiki! You’ll get vitamin D deficiency if you just spend all day in the dark, you know.” He opened the blinds.

I need to stop stalling and tell him, already.

Opening the blinds ended up spreading dust everywhere. Kaidou sneezed. “When was the last time you cleaned, Saiki? It’s so dusty!”

Why am I stalling even more! I really need to get it over with and tell him that… Or maybe it’s better not to tell him?

The suspense was killing Saiki. He knew he wasn’t entitled to Kaidou’s thoughts, but he was so used to knowing everything about everyone that he couldn’t handle the suspense anymore. Why couldn’t Kaidou trust the safety of his own mind to directly think about what he wanted to say? It made no sense! Nothing made sense, anymore! Good grief, tell me WHAT?

“What?”

Oops. Saiki accidentally sent that thought telepathically in frustration.

Tell me what your day was like, I mean.

“Oh. Um…” Kaidou sat down next to Saiki. But not too close. “Nothing really happened, actually.”

That’s a first.

“Can I tell you a story, though?”

Saiki hoped it wasn’t another plagiarized episode of Star Wars. Go ahead.

“So, I have this friend, with a problem…”

Saiki wondered why Kaidou wouldn’t refer to the friend by name, given they had the exact same circle of friends, but Kaidou was too busy admiring the particles of dust glimmering in the rectangles of sunlight filtering through the blinds. He compared the dust particles to the yellow glow of fireflies dancing in a forest, then to the twinkling stars against violet-blue cosmos, then to the grains of sand slipping through an hourglass. He thought of the various colored pieces that made up the image in stained glass windows and the tiny paint dots in Impressionist paintings and the fact that everything was just a collection of the same subatomic particles under a powerful enough microscope. He felt small. Too small to say what he means.

“... This friend is scared all the time. Maybe he’s just used to being scared because his mom always yells at him for the slightest of mistakes and has high expectations he can never reach. He doesn’t know, and neither do I, but that fear keeps leaking into everything he does. Like an inky black stain, blotting out everything until there’s nothing left. There’s just—so much ink.”

Kaidou’s fists are clenched at his sides. Saiki knew this story about Kaidou’s friend must pain him to tell, but still, Kaidou’s thoughts betrayed nothing. Kaidou was thinking of how much warmer the room was with the sunlight pouring in. He thought of temperature like mercury, pouring into the room through a crack in the window, silvery-white liquid with shiny ripples that poisoned everything in contact, suffocating them in metallic vapors.

“But, when this friend is around a certain friend, he feels like everything is bright again. It’s such a precarious feeling though, because getting closer to that brightness also puts the ink closer. It makes him think that him and the ink are the same and that anything good he touches will only get stained.”

Kaidou blinked away wetness on his lashes. He briefly acknowledged the dull ache of his heart wrenching, but only as a passing thought as he reminisced at the last time he was alone with Saiki in his room, which was after a festival, then went on to recall the fireworks. Crimson bursts of chrysanthemums popped into the night sky, golden sparkles crackling below, then streams of white and orange whistled. The smell of gunpowder and sulfur mixed in with the aroma of fried food from the concessions.

He remembered how loud the fireworks were, deep booms that resonated into his chest, louder than the pounding of his heart as he stole a glance at Saiki. He loved watching the different colors of light flash onto Saiki’s expression, a rare look of serenity, but the moment was too brief. Saiki could always tell when he was being looked at, even from far away, almost as if he were actually psychic, and every time, Saiki would look him right in the eyes and smile like he knew exactly what Kaidou was thinking, then purposefully look away again so Kaidou could resume staring in peace. That was the beautiful brightness Kaidou was enchanted by.

Saiki was used to seeing a glamorized distortion of himself in the mind’s eye of people who had a crush on him, complete with shoujo sparkles and iridescent bubbles and blooming roses in the background, but Kaidou’s perspective was unfiltered. Kaidou saw Saiki exactly the way he existed in his life and that was already enough to make his heart skip a beat, no romanticized fantasies needed.

“My friend’s problem is that he’s selfish. He wants to be with that precious friend, who makes everything fade to white. He wants to ruin everything, just for those few milliseconds of happiness. I guess, what I want to say is…”

Kaidou’s thoughts suddenly went silent. Saiki wondered if he had lost his powers, somehow. The usual background noise of every thought within a 200 meter radius was hushed, as if he had just slipped on his geranium ring. All he could hear was the rustle of fabric bunching up in Kaidou’s fists and his own pounding heart.

“What I mean is—do you think it’s worth it? Should he ruin that friendship?”

Saiki understood everything, now.

Is he scared?

“Always.”

Then, I don’t think he should.

“You’re right...”

Saiki’s hand brushed against Kaidou’s, except this time, it was on purpose. He clasped his hand over Kaidou’s.

I’ll ruin it for him.

Saiki brushed a tear away from Kaidou’s cheek. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling fondly. He usually avoided prolonged eye contact at all times so he could get away with telepathic conversation, but Kaidou had always been hard to look away from. That was a cute expression he had on his face, right now—warmed by a blush, with those shining red eyes peering up at Saiki under his long lashes.

Saiki met his lips with Kaidou’s, fingers interlaced. It was just a gentle first kiss—sweeter than coffee jelly, warmer than pyrokinesis, softer than Saiki’s bed. Kaidou melted into the kiss and could only think of how the milliseconds passed like centuries, like he was an immortal witnessing several lifetimes of glory. Their friendship was ruined, but their romance had only started.

They eventually had to part, for air. Saiki looked straight into Kaidou’s gaze. He couldn’t get out of using his real voice, but he didn’t mind.

“What I mean is... I like you.”

Of course, Kaidou broke into a sobbing mess right then and there. It didn’t take a psychic to predict that.

“I like you too, Saiki!”

#saiki no psi nan #kaidou shun #saiki kusuo #kaidou x saiki #saiki x kaidouu #wtf is their ship name #kaidou shun/saiki kusuo #fanfiction #cross-posted on ao3

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spacestationdaedalus · 4 years ago

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Happy late Christmas to @malevon!! I might not be able to throw you a party but at least I can give you a fic to read to celebrate the last day at your job. This is the longest single piece I’ve written in a long time and my first time writing injury/whump, so I hope it’s comprehensible, at least. It was SO much fun to write, thank you for the lovely prompt <3

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28435182

...

She's coming apart, now.

I’m not scared of you.

Helen...was that...a lie?

Once he heard it, Saw it, Jon knew it was over. Her doors and hallways bend and creak under the weight of the Watcher’s gaze, and she herself is twisting. She’s always twisting of course, but this is different. It’s uniform, too comprehensible for the incarnation of lies and deceit. She’s screaming, crying out-

- it’s me, it’s Helen -

Channeling the power of the Eye comes a bit easier each time, which Jon registers in the back of his mind as vaguely concerning. The corridors are crumbling, colors blending into each other as Distortion and Spiral become indistinguishable. Jon staggers as the walls and floor shift, disorienting still even with the Eye staring down at them. It reaches out, then, a last-ditch effort to save itself. Stretching and warping with hands, sharp fingers that don’t belong to Helen or Michael or anyone with a name. Jon doesn’t stop talking.

He registers a pain, vague and far-off. Everything warps into red and a million colors all at once, and then he's nowhere.

Dry grass crunches under his feet, and icy wind cuts through him. He can’t actually hear it over the ringing in his ears, but he can definitely feel it, bracing and whipping the dark strands that had come free from their bun. There’s a ringing in his ears; it travels into his jaw, rattles his teeth. There's a coppery taste in his mouth and warmth trickling down his face. Another nosebleed. Great.

"Christ, Jon!"

Martin's voice comes from behind, and Jon sags with the relief of it.

"Oh, Martin! Good." Jon turns to greet him. His words sound strange to his own ears. Slippery and lopsided and wrong. The ringing in his ears is replaced with the dull roar of rushing blood. Accented by a rhythmic thud - his heartbeat, surely. Was it always so loud? He can feel it behind his eyes, and with every beat it hurts just a bit more.

"Wh-what happened? There was the hotel and then..." Martin's voice trails off, eyes widening.

Jon laughs, bringing a hand up to wipe his face. His fingers are cold. Which is strange because the rest of him is light and warm. He shivers. "Oh calm down Martin, it's just a nosebleed." He can taste the copper, still.

Martin rushes toward him. He's saying words that Jon desperately wants to hear, but he can't. Not over the roaring in his ears, or the blur of color and static. He can feel Martin's hands on his arms, his shoulders. Jon reaches up, tries to grasp one of his hands. Has his arm always been this heavy? He feels a pulling, sudden and deep - his abdomen. And it hurt.

He blinks. He's on the ground, half kneeling. Martin's arms are around him.

"-my god, what happened? Oh god Jon-"

His head is heavy, eyes tired. He looks down. And there's blood. His blood?

Oh.

He opens his mouth to tell Martin that it's alright, it's ok, it's not as bad as it looks. He makes a sound, he thinks. He hopes, desperately, that Martin understands.

A wave of dizziness overtakes him, followed closely by darkness.

Without himself to talk to, the dismal weather is a bit distracting.

Martin braces himself against the wind and the light pattering of rain. There’s hardly a way to tell if he’s walking in the right direction, or if there even is a right direction to begin with. He’d simply picked the way that felt right and began the trek, hoping he’d meet Jon along the way. Which isn’t an outstanding plan, sure, but Martin has a hunch that wherever the fog of the Lonely ends is where he’ll find Jon. Or, where Jon will find him - not that there’s much of a difference. Regardless, Martin hopes it’s sooner rather than later. His other self had slipped away into the fog long before, with all the fanfare of a breath dissipating into cold air. At the very least he’s walking with the wind instead of against it, though it doesn’t stop the minuscule droplets from painting his glasses. He’s already given up on cleaning them, resigning himself to the rivulets that form and drip down the smooth surface.

When the rain lets up and the fog clears just enough to catch a building crest over the horizon, the relief marginally outweighs the apprehension. The sight of something other than gray mist and dead grass is promising that he’s reaching the boundary of his domain.

Hidden horrors beyond comprehension aside, at least he can get a break from the damn wind.

It’s a hotel, Martin realizes, one of the old kinds you see in travel magazines and history shows. It’s weather-worn and outdated in a way that might have seemed charming at one point, but now practically oozes terror. The wind dies down as he approaches, for which Martin is grateful.

And in a matter of moments, it’s gone.

Although "matter of moments" might be pushing it. One second it was there, and then Martin blinked, and then it wasn’t.

And Jon is there.

"Christ, Jon!" Martin says, half startled-fear and half relief. The wind picks up again in the hotel’s absence, but it seems more tolerable, now.

"Oh, Martin! Good." Jon turns, a dazed look on his face to match his tone. There's a thin trail of blood dripping from his nose. Overusing his powers again, Martin realizes with a bolt of apprehension.

"Wh-what happened? There was the hotel and then..." Martin looks to the space the hotel once occupied, and back to Jon, who’s facing him now. His voice trails off as slow sinking horror creeps in its wake.

Jon's shirt is ripped open, tatters fluttering like wind chimes in the frigid breeze. Four gashes, deep and red, run diagonally across his torso, from mid-rib cage to just above the waist. Blood is coating his stomach, his clothes-

Oh, god

Jon's wiping the blood from his face and laughing - why is he laughing? - as Martin closes the gap, heart lodged and hammering in his throat. He grabs Jon with shaking hands, holding him, steadying him when he sways back. Martin’s vaguely aware that he’s speaking, words and half-formed questions rattled off rapid-fire.

What happened where were you when how oh god fuck fuck-

Jon's knees buckle. Martin brings him into his arms, supports his weight as he lowers them to the ground. Jon is dead weight at this point, head falling to rest on Martin's shoulder. He brings a shaking hand to Jon's hair, then his neck. He can feel his pulse against his palm, light and fast and as frantic as the beating of Martin's own heart.

He lays his down, gently, as gently as he can with how bad his hands are shaking. He rips the backpack open and grabs the first piece of cloth he sees. It's an old t-shirt, one of the few Martin brought with him from the safehouse. A faded band logo adorns the front. Jon had been pleasantly surprised to find Martin wearing it, since he was a fan of the same group. They’d laughed and sang their favorite songs together-

“I can’t believe I didn’t know you could sing!”

“I can’t really sing, Martin, it’s a functional skill more than anything-”

“Bullshit! You’re good! Like, actually good.”

“Is now a good time to mention I used to be in a band?”

“What?!”

Martin crumples the old shirt and presses it to Jon’s bleeding stomach.

That pulls a low moan from him, eyes closed and face screwed up against the pain.

"Sorry, sorry, I know," Martin placates, high and strung thin. Out of the grab-bag of work experiences Martin had gathered over the years, anything tangentially related to health care was nowhere to be found. Everything he knew came from corny 90’s job safety trainings and overly-dramatic television shows.

He wants desperately to check the wounds - how deep are they? Will Jon be able to heal them before he, he bleeds out or something?! - but his arms are locked at the elbows, fists clenched in the white fabric ever-so-slowly seeping with red. He fears that if he were to move even a millimeter, everything would slip between his fingers.

A touch, feather-light on his arm, feels like a shock. It’s Jon’s hand

"I-it's fine, it's ok-" Jon's voice is soft and ragged.

"It's-it’s really not, actually," Martin replies, and it might have come across as playful if it didn’t crack so deeply through the middle. He sacrifices a hand to grasp Jon's. It's ice cold and small and thin.

Martin uses his other hand to gingerly lift the shirt. The bleeding is slowing now - thank god - and Martin is sure the edges have closed ever so slightly. Not that he had gotten the best look before. He remembers how quickly Jon’s leg healed after Daisy-

It wasn’t a miracle though, his mind supplies.

He throws the bloody shirt aside and digs through the backpack once more, Gauze, some tape, a knife, a bottle of water. There’s only a half-roll of the gauze left, and it’ll have to be enough. With a jittering determination Martin uses the water to clean away some of the blood, cutting away the remains of Jon’s shirt as he goes. As the red washes away, the wounds don’t look quite as deep, quite as awful as they did before. He feels the smallest sliver of panic leave him and he draws in a deep breath to calm himself. Martin notices, really notices the wind for the first time in minutes - or hours, how long has it been? It burns the tips of his fingers numb, slicing through him like the knife in his hands. They don’t have anything in the realm of antiseptic, because of course they don’t, and Martin desperately hopes that Jon can heal himself before it becomes a problem. He gently wraps Jon’s middle with fumbling hands, placating as best he can when Jon winces against the movement.

They aren't in the Martin's domain anymore, technically. Just on the edge between Lonely and god-knows-what. But the open, gently rolling hills and vestiges of fog sends his spine tingling. Like a rabbit with no cover, and a hawk circling overhead. Not to mention the wind - now that Martin’s brought attention to it, he can’t stop shivering.

There’s a cobblestone wall, maybe twenty meters away. Left over from the perimeter of the hotel, if Martin had to guess. Wedging themselves into a corner to block out some of the wind is probably their best - only? - option.

Martin leans forward, brings his hands to cradle Jon's face. For as frozen as his fingers are he can still feel the chill against Jon’s skin, which isn’t the most comforting sign. He caresses his thumbs against Jon’s cheekbones in an attempt to coax the barest bit of attention out of him. Jon hums as he opens his eyes, slowly, foggy and unfocused. Whether it’s blood loss or pain or the after-effect of using his powers, Martin isn’t sure. Probably all three.

“There you are,” Martin whispers, and as small as it is he can’t hold back the relieved smile. He presses a soft kiss to Jon’s forehead. “We need to get out of the wind, love. I’m going to pick you up, alright?”

“I can walk.” Jon murmurs, almost lost in the air between them.

Idiot man .

“Not a chance.” Martin kisses his forehead once more, the comfort at the sound of Jon’s voice, ragged as it is, bringing tears to his eyes. He re-positions the backpack and slips his arms under shoulders and knees, rising to his feet with only a slight stagger. Jon cuts off a cry with his teeth, and Martin whispers apologies once more.

The stone wall on both sides makes more difference than Martin had dared to hope. He sets Jon down delicately on the grass, followed by the backpack with a bit less care. As he rummages through it once more - he’d packed that blanket, hadn’t he? - Jon shifts, raising himself on shaking arms.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Martin starts as Jon leans himself against the cobblestone, arm wrapped gently against the new bandages.

“It’s ok, I can manage it,” Jon replies in between deep breaths. He’s shaking, Martin can tell, pale and drawn. Martin grabs the blanket from the bottom of the pack at last, crawling to kneel next to Jon.

“Alright, alright, just stay there now, will you?” Martin chides as he leans against the stone, dragging the blanket over them. He was starting to think they’d never need it, but with the cold air still biting against them he was more than grateful they’d kept it around. “It’s not like we can give you, y’know, stitches or anything, so try not to move around so much while it’s healing.”

Jon leans his head - and most of his weight - against Martin’s shoulder with a hum, eyes sliding shut. They sit in a not-uncomfortable silence for a few moments. Martin takes a breath to ask-

“I killed Helen.” Jon speaks, soft and half-muffled by the sleeve of Martin’s jacket.

“...oh.” Martin says, quietly, because what else is there to say? Then, louder: “Wait, did- did she do this to you?!”

“Not her fault.” Jon takes a breath, slowly. Martin thinks he’s about to fall asleep. Or pass out, but he certainly hopes it’s the former. “It was self-defense.”

Oh.

Martin’s not exactly sure what to do with that, and by the time he figures it out he’s sure Jon won’t be conscious anymore. Jon’s breathing evens out into something resembling sleep - or rest, at least, since he can’t really sleep anymore - and Martin resigns himself to his thoughts and his still-slowing heartbeat. The feeling of Jon’s breaths against him are enough to dispel the last dregs of his panic, leaving exhaustion in its wake.

Jon couldn’t have been asleep, because he didn’t dream.

The sensation is similar though; the lost time, the panic, the awareness that comes back to him with all the subtlety of a freight train. The headache isn’t exactly new, but the deep ache that sinks its teeth into his bones is an interesting touch.

He’s against Martin, still - Martin it’s Martin he’s safe you’re both safe - who’s breathing is slow and deep. He’s not dreaming, though. The last dream he had, at the safehouse, was about his mother-

Jon sits up, sudden, fast. He didn’t know that. Not before. But now he Knows.

Knowledge; a familiarity, awareness, or understanding of something-

Stopstopstop

The knowing pushes against him, against the back of his eyes that throb in time to his heartbeat. It’s hard and fast and it hurts -

Fever causes and increase in heart rate, breathing rate, and blood circulation to the skin-

Temperature is considered elevated when it is higher than 38 degrees Celsius, or 100.4 degrees Fahrenheit-

(32°F − 32) × 5/9 = 0°C

He brings his hands up, foolish to think he can force the onslaught back with the heels of his palms against his eyes. His hands are frigid and damp against his face, or is it his face that’s burning against his hands? The movement of his arms tugs against his chest, his stomach, and folding in on himself only makes it hurt more but he can’t stop-

You think you could be saved without paying the price?

T̶h̵i̷s̴ ̵i̷s̷ ̷h̸e̶l̴p̵i̴n̸g̶ ̶y̸o̵u̴.̴

Ỳ̶̧̮͎͔̇̑o̷͚̖̬͈̙̽̅̆̕u̷̢̙͍͙̅̽̌̂́ ̸̯̈̓͠ͅs̵̙͇̗͠͝ȟ̸̩̝̗͚͓̈́͒̈͑o̸̢͉͎̯͒u̸̬̩̯͇̿̿̍͛͝l̶͇̗̮̦͒̾d̴̠̪̰͉̉̃̈́ ̵͍̙̺͖̮̒̊b̵̡̯͕͕̘̑e̶̫̹̒͊ ̴̬͑̓g̸̟̝̻͕̣͊͠ ̶̞̰̯͍̟͌̑̌ṛ̶͍̹̀ ̴̲̭̚͜ã̸͎̼̥̜̦͆͝ ̵̝̺̈̿t̴̢̛͗͝ ̶̺̝̂͛e̴̙͆̆̉̚ ̶̜̦̮͓̱̓̒f̶̢̗͓̥͗ ̷͓̾͜ụ̵̭͋͛ ̵̝̪̃̋͗͘l̶̨̥͈̼̝͂͘͝

He tastes copper again. Copper and static and paper and magnetic tape pooling on his tongue. He clenches his teeth against the need to vomit every bit and piece of knowledge and horror he’s ever known. The door in his mind is cracking now, buckling and splintering with the pressure and the weight of it all.

It was a small, unremarkable door, painted dark yellow, with a matte-black handle.

Something touches his shoulder and he would scream if he could open his mouth. The same something - hands hands two hands - touches his face, his hair-

And he had long, straw-coloured hair that fell onto his shoulders in loose ringlets-

“Jon,” someone says, and it’s Martin because of course it’s Martin. He’s kneeling in front of him, blessedly cold hands cradling his face. One hand brushes his hair back - had it come undone again? - resting against his forehead. It’s so soft and cool and comforting Jon can barely hold back the sob against his throat.

I felt the cold night air on my face and, and wet tarmac under my hands and knees.

“Good lord, you’re burning up!” He sounds frantic and Jon wants to comfort him, but he doesn’t know how. Martin starts on about medicine and things they don’t have and things that Jon knows, Knows can’t help him. He Knows it’ll pass and he Knows it won’t kill him, but in the moment that doesn’t feel like the mercy it should.

Jon shakes his head against Martin’s hands and tries, really tries to tell him it’s ok -

I decided to come to you and tell you my story.

“ I- ” The one syllable is jagged and dripping with compulsion and tellmeyourstory . Jon clamps down on it with a whine, shaking his head again. He brings a shaking hand to touch Martin’s on his cheek. He meets his eyes for the first time, wide and searching. Jon realizes he must look as wretched as he feels for Martin to have that look on his face.

I’msorryI’msorryI’msorry

“Oh, Jon.” Martin must understand, at least some of it, because his face softens. He pulls Jon to his chest - Jon would put his arms around him if they weren’t so heavy-

-held up my arm for a handshake, but he just looked at it, and laughed-

-but he settles for burying his face in the crook of Martin’s neck, eyes shut.

...felt like I couldn’t trust my eyes.

Her statement echoes in his ears and on his tongue. He remembers her face, her real face, before Helen twisted it into endless, sickening spirals. The bounce to her hair, the odd way she held her pen, the bags under her eyes that mirrored his own. He wasn’t mourning her. He certainly wasn’t morning Helen . She didn’t deserve that. He wasn’t mourning the woman he’d never known, a woman he probably wouldn’t have liked anyway , a woman that he let walk through that fucking door -

There has never been a door there, Archivist.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until his next breath catches in the middle. It’s silent because he makes it silent, because the second he opens his mouth the words will come spilling out and they’ll never stop. So his shoulders shake and his chest heaves from the force of it, and it hurts . His tears drip down the collar of Martin’s shirt, and Martin - god Martin - has one hand on his back and another in his hair, making soft circles with the pads of his fingers. He’s talking to him, and Jon can’t hear the words over the static and statement pulsing through his eardrums. But the vibration of his voice is gentle, comforting, and it makes breathing just a bit easier. His face is hot and he shivers against the chill creeping up his frame, but Martin is here and warm and safe and Jon hopes that he never has to leave.

“Here,” Martin says - and Jon hears - after who knows how long, shifting slightly but never taking his arms away. He repositions himself, back against the wall, and lowers Jon by the shoulders until his head is pillowed on his lap. The motion hurts, Jon knows, but it’s muted and far away against the burning of his skin and how cold he is in spite of it.

Later they’ll talk, when he’s better, about Helen and friendship and other things. Jon will say I’m sorry for worrying you and Martin will say it’s ok and they’ll both say I love you . But for now, Jon drifts off to Martin’s hand resting on his head, his whispered reassurances reminding him that he’s safe.

“Rest, love.” Martin presses a kiss to his forehead and brings the blanket over him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Jon can’t stop himself from Knowing that, not now, but he doesn’t need the Eye to know that it’s true.

#my writing #tma fics #jonmartin #i wrote a lot more than i expected to for this!! i really hope it like #makes sense hahaha #tma

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leemaht · 5 years ago

Text

haikyuu!! headcanons

boyfriend scenarios

goshiki, shirabu as your boyfriend

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

warnings: none

pairings: goshiki x reader; shirabu x reader

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

goshiki

in this scenario you are the sibling of shirabu

you are in the same class as goshiki

he had noticed you before. you were really pretty and seemed to be pretty clever.

one day you showed up to practice and he panicked. what were you doing here? and he tried to look cool. i mean he always tried to look cool but..

you called your brother and the whole team was confused on why you used his first name. like was he your boyfriend?

tendou went to make fun of him but then you introduced yourself as his sibling.

goshiki kind of let go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding in

training continued and you decided to stay and watch our brother and then you saw goshiki and you approached him

‘you are goshiki-kun right? we are in the same class. i’m-’

‘shirabu y/n.’ he answered a little too fast and blushed at his own straightforwardness

he was happy that this didn’t turn the talk awkward. you talked about homework and stuff until the coach yelled at goshiki for slacking off. but you stood between them and bowed

‘i’m sorry sir. i was the one distracting him.’

‘well, then alright.’

he was baffled that you would take the blame for him. it was hard for him to concentrate on the training for the rest of practice because he felt you watching him.

the next day at lunch break he went over to you and you talked. this continued for the rest of the week and goshiki felt his feelings for you grow.

this boy nearly fainted when you offered him to call you with your first name because it would be confusing because of your brother.

‘you-you can call me with my first name too then.’ he answered way too loud and fast and with a big blush, which made you chuckle.

shirabu caught on goshiki’s intentions pretty fast and had the big brother talk with him but still approved. he knew goshiki and knew that he was a good and honest guy.

you met up at the weekends a few times and even waited for him after practice. he really thought his heart would explode the first few times you did.

one day, you were on a walk, and it rained and none of you had an umbrella. by the time you reached a shelter both of you were soaking wet.

goshiki felt really bad since he was the one who suggested it without checking the weather report.

and here you were, without a jacket and shivering. he pulled his hoodie over his head and gave it to you and you gratefully accepted it.

you decided to wait out the rain, so you sat there mostly in silence until you felt goshiki’s gaze.

he thought you looked so stunning in his hoodie, your face a little red and your hair all wet. he really wanted to kiss you and gazed to your lips again and again but was too shy to make a move. whenever you looked at him he averted his glance.

‘tsutomu.’

‘y-yeah?’

‘can you look at me for a second?’

he turned around to you pressing your lips on his. he was so stunned that he forgot to kiss back. after a few seconds you pulled away, sadly.

what if you misinterpreted the situation? didn’t he want to kiss you?

you didn’t dare to look at him but his eyes were wide and his face bright red.

still not meeting his eyes you apologized.

‘i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have done this. sorry for mis-’

but he cut you off with another kiss which you immediately returned. after he wrapped his arms around you and seriously started crying about how he was sure that he was the only one who felt this way. it was cute really. you had to comfort him. after he calmed down you asked him if he wanted to be your boyfriend and he agreed, crying again.

this boy spoils you. he knows what you want even before you know it. he buys you dinner and little presents whenever he feels like it. and that is often.

cook him lunch and he is yours forever. he got a nosebleed when you had a lunch date and you gave him a home made bento box.

spontaneous dates. ‘y/n i’m at your door. i have tickets for the zoo.’

your brother acts cold in front of goshiki but is really supportive. he. approves.

the team uses you to get him give 100% at games.

‘look goshiki-kun, it’s y/n-chan and they are wearing your jersey.’ [he starts burning (flashback to season 3)]

shirabu

he met you during training

you were a friend and classmate of goshiki. you spent much time together so it was natural for him to bring you to practice too.

when shirabu first saw you he thought you were pretty but got quite annoyed. he was afraid he would have to deal with another goshiki now.

was pleasantly surprised when you turned put to be the exact opposite of goshiki. kind, shy and reluctant

after a while of you going to practice you kind of turned into an unofficial manager which was widely accepted.

‘y/n, can you help me pick up the balls?’

‘n/n-chaan, could you get me some water?’

but you weren’t really. so shirabu had an idea. the team had a group chat, even coach washijo was in it. he suggested to officially ask you to be their manager so they could take you to tournaments. they immediately agreed.

not without teasing shirabu though

two days later they had a jersey organized and wrapped for you, so when you entered the gym they stood in formation with shirabu at the front, facing you

he gave you the bundle, you unwrapped the paper finding a jersey. before you could say anything the team said

‘please become our manager.’ in unison

you nearly teared up as you put on the jacket and bowed.

‘i’ll be in your care.’

they all including shirabu came to hug you. even wakatoshi gave you a backpat and a reassuring smile

the practice went normal after that, except that shirabu felt an unfamiliar happiness inside of him.

he knew what it was though,he is clever after all

he decided to walk you home today and confess but destiny wasn’t on his side

you were so grateful to be part of something that you suggested to treat the whole team to meat buns

they did cheer like crazy especially tendou and kawanishi

you ended up paying for tendou’s shounen jump as well

after the others went home shirabu took chance in his own hand and confessed in a park

nervous little baby. while you took your time replying he gave you an anxious side glance

was soooo relieved when you accepted his feelings

is too shy to do anything but holding your hand at first, but he does so all the time. while sitting next to each other, walking down the hallways to the gym, before matches and ...all the time

jealous. gives anybody who as much as looks at you disgusted gazes. generally looks angry or bored all the time honestly

tries not to talk too much [facade] but seriously talks so much around you. he wants to talk about one thing but enjoys it so much he just tails off and you can’t stop him

also talks about you a lot. especially with goshiki who is really happy to have brought his two friends together

your first kiss was on a quiet evening in your room. you just talked and a movie was playing in the background. both of you had subconsciously leaned in until your noses had touched. shirabu closed his eyes, tilted his head to the right and closed the gap. it wasn’t more then a peck but still so passionately and intimate.

many kisses followed

he may not seem like it but he is a big hugger, especially in the receiving side.

you have cute picnic dates and sometimes you bake together which mostly ends up in a mess.

you prepare lunches for the whole team sometimes. he is really proud when you do and brags about you at semi and goshiki

#haikyuu!! headcanons #haikyuu!! fanfiction #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! x reader #goshiki x reader #goshiki tsutomu #shirabu kenjirou #shirabu x reader

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darkgunslinger · 5 years ago

Text

Saving Zim Extras/shorts

These are scenes from Saving Zim by Dib07 that didn’t make the final cut. There are many more scenes like these that I left out, but these are some of the ones I did not show in the FFN story due to them being scrappy bits and pieces - but still, I hope they can be enjoyed for what they are XD

The current series can be found here!

Scene: the professor’s garden

The professor was in his main study, overlooking datasheets on his chemical production. On his desk was a small swilling vessel of bright pink emulsions beside two computers and a blood analyser machine. Things were always making noises in here as machines and computers cranked and clonked out results. It was music to the professor’s ears.

“Hi, urm... Mr. Membrane?”

He looked round, and appeared to be smiling behind his neck collar. “Yes, what is it my girl?” He saw that she was holding his little patient.

“Are the outside doors locked?”

“Go through the back way, it’s all open. Why?”

“I’m taking the little guy outside while it’s warm and sunny. He’s been a bit... despondent.”

“It could be the medication he’s on.”

“Some days he’s really chatty and coherent. Then there are days where he’s like this.”

The professor paused, perhaps conflicted with what to suggest. “Just don’t have him outside too long! There is no insulation in his body to help keep him warm.”

She already knew, but nodded anyway. “And just where is Dib?”

“Still hard at work preparing for the little house guest! Here. Call him.” He whisked out his own personal Samsung Mega Xtreme 36 phone.

Thanking the professor, she sat on one of the plastic seats in the hallway outside his door and called his home number. Zim was looking lazily around, preferring to stay cuddled against her.

She waited through the dial tones. He answered on the fourth ring. “It’s just me, Dib! When are you getting back?”

“Oh, hi Clara! Getting back?” There was a pause. She could hear music in the background. “An hour or two tops. I still have these little step ladders to put up. I can’t remember where I put the drill.”

“Can you come over?”

“Why? Is everything okay?”

“Zim’s not quite himself.”

Zim, hearing most of her side of the conversation, rolled his little pink orbs skyward in exasperation.

She disconnected the call. She lowered it from her ear, and then looked down at the Irken resting against her chest. She gave him a little cuddle. “He said to tell you that he’s on his way.”

He nodded.

After giving back the phone to the professor, she headed for the double doors. They were made from heavy oak, and were used as flood shutters in case of stormy weather. She stepped out into the open sunshine. They were inundated with bright, cheery birdsong, and amongst the uncut waves of deep green grass were early April butterflies that glanced along the stems like aerial dancers.

Zim’s remaining antenna became attentive to these outdoor noises.

“It’s beautiful out here. Didn’t realize it was so warm.” Clara mused. She didn’t follow the stone path. Instead she headed across the grass in just her plimsolls. There was the wooded area, and the rockery. Midges were flying in the air in roaming clouds. She was careful to keep the flies off him.

“Isn’t it...dangerous o-out here? Won’t someone s-see m-me?” She felt him tremble.

“No, don’t worry! This place is closed off; it’s all private, see? And no one’s getting over the brick walls that surround this place. It’s secure.”

She wondered how much he was caring to see, or if he was just looking at it all with closed indifference. Sometimes it was hard if not imposable to read what was going on behind his eyes.

They reached a stone bench that had green lichen growing along its lion-like feet. She lifted him from her lap and perched him on it. He could lean back if he wanted, thanks to the wooden backrest. He sat there a moment, looking startled as if he’d been teleported to a different world. Then he looked around, seeing the diaphanous butterflies and the fat, lazy bumble bees that hovered over a patch of tangled jasmine. The sunshine made him look paler, giving him a haunted look.

“This is nice!” She said, leaning back beside him, watching his reactions carefully. “You forget how dark it is inside buildings until you go out into the sunshine.”

They shared a serene sort of silence. Clara started to wish she’d brought a book with her, something to take his worried mind off things. Zim was looking around and was picking up on everything. This fresh air was the best he’d had all month. Always he seemed to stoop and shrivel beneath the weight of his own shadow, so it was good to see him sit up a little more and become alert to things he’d usually ignore. But. He was still frightened of pain. She could see it on his face.

A butterfly circled them, gliding on a lofty warm breeze. But when a bluebottle landed on Zim’s shoulder, she grew angry, and flicked it off him. He smelt of medicine, antiseptic and fresh linen, but beneath it all there was still the cloying smell of illness.

The moment of serenity seemed to leave him most suddenly, as if a cold wind had blown into his soul. He looked down, and his right antenna stopped picking up the slightest feather-sound of butterflies.

“Zim? Hey? Are you cold? Should I bring you back inside?” But she knew the depression would follow him there too.

He said nothing; just stared at the grass below his dangling little boots.

She knew to watch him for any signs of a seizure. The Irken hadn’t shown any such signs, not to her, and she hoped never to witness it. If they always started with a nosebleed, it gave them forewarning before he went down.

“Dib’s on his way I promise.” He was always the cure to Zim’s gloom. He’d bring a deck of cards, and they’d play games on the bed. “Hey,” she began, hatching an idea, “how about we collect flowers? Whoever gathers the most, wins!” It was so lame really, anybody would see straight through her attempts, but Zim’s unfocused gaze began to clear.

She got off the bench, and he slid down, following with more caution in his step. The tall grass was a little bit difficult for him to navigate, his right antenna bobbing with every step. When it looked like he would fall she scooped his hand in hers and kept him balanced. But there was more determination in his step than there had been in the lab. Out here there were no bars for him to look upon: no reminders that he was in a cage. The gloom of it had filled his eyes: the cage was now inside.

But out here his eyes seemed to drink in the light. The blue of Earth’s sky was something he appreciated. No longer was he slouching with a dismal frown crowning his sadness.

Slipping out of her hand, he limped to a thick glen of grass where he had a choice of flowers. He gave them a brief look of intensity, his militarism always shining through. Then he stooped and picked out a daisy. He seemed unusually hesitant to pluck it from its long stem. Dib often said that Zim was a destroyer, and cared not for what he smashed and ruined.

His claws snapped the stem, and he lifted it up, gazing at its white petals.

“That’s a daisy.” She told him. “Many people see them as weeds, but I’ve always liked daises. I used to make a chain out of them for a necklace when I was little.”

He baulked, as if he found the idea ridiculous, and stared at the daisy as if he could see where the Velcro was hiding. She laughed, hoping he wouldn’t take offence. He did cock his head at her, and look dismayed, as if he was trying to suss mockery, but then he gave her a relaxed, happier look. “Don’t you have a better use for your t-time?” He asked.

“I can make one for you.”

He looked back at the flower, suddenly crestfallen.

She didn’t want him to think that he had lost a part of himself just because he’d lost parts of the machine on his back.

Don’t let the PAK define you, Zim. You define the PAK, not the other way around.

His raucous coughing cut short the moment, and dark fright was in his eyes again.

“It’s okay. I’m here.” She rubbed his shoulder, giving him time and reassurance. He was frightened of pain and how it made him feel.

He kept hold of the daisy, passing it to her, as if silently asking her to make something out of it.

Clara stooped and plucked a red tulip. When Zim reached for a big purple thing bristling in barbs, she gently pushed his hand away. “That’s a thistle, honey. Leave it be.”

“Why are these things so different?”

“Well, they are different types, for different purposes.”

And that’s when he found it. It was growing in shadow and under the ivy clasping the rightwing of the building. It was as beautiful as he. He crouched low, looking at it in something that might have been wonder.

It was a rose so dark that it looked like it had been stained in blood. He went to touch it, hold it maybe, or pull it up, and he suddenly shied back, jabbing his claw into his mouth. A green droplet of blood hung from one of its thorns.

“That’s a rose, Zim.”

“A r-rose?” He asked, looking up at her. He took his claw out of his mouth and inspected the prick.

“They’re beautiful, but they have thorns.”

“W-Why?”

“To protect themselves. Not all flowers are defenceless.”

He looked for more roses but there was only the one. It stood, as if defiant: alone, but vibrant even as it existed in shadow. It looked parts fragile, its delicate petals all blood-red silk, but its thorns could not be mistaken.

Zim sat back, admiring it. She thought he might try and snap it from the stem in the ground, but he did not. Clara watched, thinking he was so like a rose, slender and graceful, but prickly beneath.

“It grows from dirt.” He summarised, as if this was what confused him.

“It does. All things grow from it.”

“So how can this thing be so...?”

“Beautiful?”

He grunted.

She pushed his boundaries again by squeezing a comforting hand on his birdlike shoulder. He gave that childish look of trust. One day she hoped he’d look at her in the same way he looked at Dib.

“The Earth can grow and nurture beautiful and delicate things that are found nowhere else in the universe.”

He pouted, finding her claim hard to believe when he’d seen that universe, however partial. But he could not deny her either. In all his travels, he had never found something as beautiful as a rose.

He went to reach for it, and drew away again.

Dib had explained to her that he had meant to hand this planet over to his leaders. Failure meant execution or exile. It helped to explain the weight he seemed to carry.

She could see it on his face that he was struggling to accept the beauty in front of him, but he was seeing it.

“But they grow f-from dirt.” He insisted. “How do they do that? What’s in the dirt? What’s so special about it?”

“Earth’s soil is fertile, and it has all the minerals in it that plants need to grow.” She supposed that even if she took the trouble of drawing him up a chart with diagrams to help explain it, he still wouldn’t get it.

His mouth set stubbornly, wanting to understand, yet disbelieving how anything could be that simple.

He had a childish wonder, but also an insistent need to understand and uncomplicate things, even when things were perfectly okay to let wonders be.

He stood up, and precariously wobbled a moment before he chose to leave the rose perfectly where it was. He went back to picking other flowers, and always so daintily did he take from the stem in strange reluctance.

Soon he had a little bouquet of many different things; a clump of jasmine, a dandelion, buttercups, lavender, bluebells and tulips. He was attracted to all things colourful, and the unkempt garden was quite full of these treasures, but it was the deadly rose he liked most of all.

A little while later he sat warming himself in a patch of sunshine on her lap with his eyes closed as she worked at lacing daises together. He had been attracted by the magic of watching her weave daises at first, but he’d soon grown tired.

With half a daisy chain complete, she soon heard someone calling. The Irken’s antenna jerked and then rose higher, his eyes cracking open.

“Hey you two!” Dib’s boyish and cheery voice called to them across the grounds.

Zim looked round immediately, and sunshine filled his eyes. “Dib!” He called back in his broken voice.

“Been looking all over for you guys!” He returned, shaking his head as he plodded across the grass, hands in his pockets. “Dad said you were mooching out in the garden.”

“We’ve been enjoying the sunshine.” Clara said with a smile.

Dib noticed their collection of flowers, and the tidy string of daises his fiancée was making. “What have you two been doing?”

“Picking flowers.” Zim piped up.

The human sat next to him. “The space boy has been picking flowers?”

“Hey, don’t tease him.” Clara defended in all seriousness. “We’ve been enjoying it.”

Dib chuckled and rubbed the little guy’s shoulder. “Uh huh. And how’s my favourite alien today? Not got the blues, I hope?”

“I’m green.” Zim said in stupid innocence.

Clara said as she joined the last daisy. “Here you are. A daisy chain of your own!”

She lowered the white ring of daises around his neck. He straightened a tad and touched them with a claw. “Thank you!” He said. “Gir made daisy chains. But I... I never....”

“Maybe you should have made him a crown, Clara.” Dib joked to dispel Zim’s moroseness, “It might have suited him better.”

They walked back to the building. Zim looked over Dib’s shoulder and watched as the rose grew smaller and smaller until it became a speck of red under dark pools of shadow.

Scene: Zim’s second night with his humans at home

Surviving this unfamiliar dystopia exhausted him.

He pushed the door open, expecting to see that silly bathtub for dolls filled to the brim, and found it hard to hide the dismay opening on his countenance when he saw her sitting, waiting there by a basin of hot bubbly water. Stacked close by were soft fluffy towels, and placed by her knees was one of those water-proof mats that was large enough for him to lay on. She was dipping her hand into the bubbly water, testing its temperature.

Clara looked over at him, her eyes impossible to read. She smiled, trying as she was to appear reassuring, and he hoped the expression was as genuine as her intentions.

“Whenever you’re ready Zim, you can take off your robe.”

But he wasn’t ready.

He stood rooted like a statue as he held the opening of the purple robe tightly to his chest. He felt the cool of his nakedness under there, and the uninviting chill beyond the cocooning fabric. Why couldn’t she just leave him be?

“Zim?” Her question made his right antenna ring. “Are you okay?”

He shook his head, hardly believing he was suffering human help and kindness he was still so afraid to trust in. He’d believed that if he kept moving, if he kept going forwards, he’d be unstoppable. Now he could not move for fear of pain.

He clung on to whatever he could when defeat had him sink to the deepest depths. Looking back, even slightly, filled him with horror, but a glimpse that way also revealed what he had overcome.

Clara maintained her smile despite his stony silences. “It’s okay, Zim. I won’t bite.”

Zim peered over at the bubbly water in the bowl. He’d suffered their sponge-baths over the weeks, and not once did the water sting or burn him. The sight of it however still filled him with the instinctive distrust of it: being on Earth had stamped many fears and uncertainties into his heart, and he was not familiar with what was safe and what wasn’t without the sanctions of his computer.

“Here. Let me.” Clara walked over, knelt down by his indisposed form and slipped off the long and soft purple robe. His eyes took on a frightened, miserable cast, as if being naked opened up new ways of being disgraceful. It didn’t matter how many times he was stripped and then clothed again; whenever he was bare before them, self-loathing and shame crowded the colour in his eyes.

He tried to hide himself behind skinny arms and skinny claws.

Hands touched his shoulders. He tensed, emitting a squeaky growl.

Her gentleness was unreal. Every time she touched him, his defences rose to the rafters, expecting something malignant beneath her contact. Life was hard edges, mistrusts, hate and pain. Without Membrane’s protection, he was adamant that Clara would change from her superficial gentleness into something else.

She guided him over to the water-proof mat. “Sit on the mat, honey, and relax.”

He gave her that sharp, assertive look, and she knelt beside him, waiting, showing infallible patience. Her smile was fading at the edges, her eyes more confused than anything.

“Leave m-me.” Please. “I d-don’t n-need y-your h-help.”

“Being stubborn isn’t going to help you, Zim. And just because you’ve left the lab doesn’t automatically mean you’re out of the woods. You are still convalescing. Now, are you going to argue, or are you going to sit down?”

His eyes shifted to the mat, and back to her.

Fighting her, he could see, was going to get him nowhere.

Stiffly, he sat down, making sure to keep his bony legs over his crotch area.

“After we get you clean and snuggled up, I’ll make you some soup. How does that sound?” He nervously watched as she dunked the sponge into the bubbly water. She lifted it up and he instinctively tensed, eyes screwing shut, fists clamped. “You carry so much tension in your shoulders.” He felt her knead the sponge into his back under the PAK’s mantle. He’d expected the water to be tepid, but the sudden heat of it was a wonderful surprise. Then she worked the sponge into and around his neck. The moan came out before he could stop it in time.

This is really... really nice...

There was little use resisting the flexes of his right antenna. As a cat communicated joy through its ears or tail, he did the same thing with his antenna.

Her eyes were looking him over as she cleaned him, checking for any new bruises or marks that would indicate bedsores or signs of self-harm.

Though he was not answering, she chatted away with the same attention and care. “Is there anything you want to work on first? Or what you’ll want to build?”

“Se-security.” He choked.

“You don’t need to tackle everything at once. You’ll still get it all done, Zim. Just enjoy the day as well.”

He began to lean a little more into the sponge-massages, eyes lowering from the soporific heat. The sponge-baths were usually brisk and quick affairs so that they didn’t exact too much energy from him and so that he didn’t get too cold.

She threw a towel over his shoulders and proceeded to massage him dry.

Zim had to secretly admit that they were providing a damn good service even if their help was still making him tense with shame, but for a moment he allowed himself the comfort.

She was careful with him as he was mostly all bone, with little to no insulation protecting his organs.

Clara had fresh nightwear ready just an arm length away. He woodenly replied, stretching out each arm as best he could, and felt the fluffy soft material cloak his littleness. He knew he would sweat through this too, and he sighed.

“There. That’ll soothe those shivers away.”

How did she never find this strange? Perhaps in the lab there had been a sense of displacement, of surrealism when you had a fantastical scientist hurrying about with his fanatical machines and caring for an exotic otherworldly creature, but here, in an ordinary house, she acted as though she was looking after someone she had known for a long time. He tried to see past her affections, her warmth to spy the truth. But he could never find anything other than her sincerity.

“You wanna go for some homemade soup?”

They were always propelling food his way. “Not r-really hungry.”

“That’s okay, just manage what you can.” She picked up the basin and sluiced the used water down the big human-sized bathtub’s plughole. Seeing that as his cue, he woozily climbed to his feet. The floor tilted just a little before righting itself again, but the fleck of dizzying colours took longer to leave his vision.

She noticed. She came over, knelt down and wrapped an arm around him. “Do you feel okay, honey?”

The question was so very simple, and yet it entailed too much.

Zim only leaned into her, tired and dizzy. His lower legs were shaky. He had been dependent on his self-sufficient self-healing PAK - and he had never needed to give pause and regard his injuries – only to ever see them as novel and irrelevant inconveniences.

Living in this mortal hell without this reliability made him that much more careful and that much more timid. Every little bit of pain was much more terrifying and much more intimate.

They told him that he’d get stronger, with time. He didn’t believe them.

“Let me take you to bed, Zim. It’s no trouble.” Her arms went around him. He fetched a set of claws into the fabric of her cardigan to hold on when she spooned him into her arms. Her hold was secure, and there was never a moment where he felt she might drop him, but for insecurity’s sake he held on anyway.

She carried him back into his softly lit bedroom. The nightlight was painting the ceiling with dappling colour. When she set him down on the bed, she immediately bundled up his legs and torso, and shored up the pillows so that he could lean against them. He had long stopped stiffening or shrinking away whenever she went near or touched his PAK.

“I’m going to heat up your supper. You snuggle down and rest.”

“Cl-Clara h-human?” His choke was filled with what sounded like water.

“Yes, honey?”

“Can I h-have something to d-drink?”

“Of course. Do you have anything in mind?”

He shook his head.

“That’s okay, I’ll get you something.”

His wrinkled fuchsia eyes were drawn to her with a heavy intensity.

“Zim. Everything will be okay. Just remember that we’re here to support you, and protect you. This isn’t a limited affair. This is for life.” She reached out, and stroked his cheek. His fear cooled: sliding away like shadows after the lights had been turned on.

When she left, he sat, cupping the blanket to his chest. He sipped in breath, gladdened when there was no wall of pain. Lying down all night made the coughing worse and he had scrunched up, hacking and spluttering until he was coughing up blood. Now he was breathing easy – and the scary event seemed far, far away.

He waited for her to return, looking for her company. Being alone wasn’t quite as welcoming as it used to be, so he tried to hide the smile when she returned with a little tray of food.

“Just manage what you can, honey.” She set the food on the bed tray after positioning it over his lap. Though hardly hungry, his spooch grumbled.

He reached for the cup of honeyed milk, and he slurped it down, his thirst seemingly increasing with every gulp. Before he had scarcely begun, she was prying the cup out of his little claws. “Not so fast, Zim! You can have some more in a little while. Wait for that to go down first.”

“Who d-do you t-think y-you a-are?” He rasped.

She frowned at him, as if she had hoped their relationship wouldn’t backtrack like this, and that she might be spared his anger. “The voice of reason. Be my guest if you want to vomit down your nice new clothes and bed sheets.”

A dangerous glitter intensified in his eyes as he looked up at her, stupefied by her sudden sharpness. She didn’t back down. His right antenna bobbed up and down, and the querulous fire in his eyes dissipated. “You su-sure are bossy.”

“Well, someone’s got to look after you. We both know you’re terrible at it.” She said with more kindness. “You can bark at me all you like, but I’ve got a job to do, and nothing you say or do will stop me from doing it.”

That made him cock his head slightly, expression softening.

“Now try some soup. It isn’t all that bad.”

“D-don’t stand there – w-watching me.” He grunted.

She couldn’t help but shake her head, smiling at his stubbornness. “All right, all right. Just don’t forget to use your napkin.”

He gave her a long look to make sure she was leaving him in peace before he lifted up a spoon and dipped it into the soup.

Scene: getting some private time

“Zim, stop messing with the power! For five minutes!” He leant back in his desk chair, waiting for any affirmation, but it would be a miracle if the Irken had even heard. Blowing out breath, he returned to the computer and continued typing up a few measly sentences for his loosely constructed CV. He had poured over the keyboard most of the day, lost for words, and distracted by noises from a construction of a different sort. They had given up trying to stop the former soldier from ‘improving’ the house, learning quickly that there could be nothing that would stop an Irken’s wilfulness.

Clara was waiting upstairs. ‘Just a few more minutes’ he had said to her.

Dib stared at what he had painstakingly written. The skills and experience he could list all day; it was the passion that was so hard to put into words.

Just as he was about to save his work, the power died, the house fell into darkness, and so did his computer screen. “Zim!”

The power came on within seconds, the house bursting back into life. Muttering and cursing, he found Zim connecting the fuse box down in the basement with a handheld construct of his own, mostly alien in design, but made with a lot of used parts he had cobbled together.

He needed two seconds of the Irken not-getting-into-trouble or throwing the house into some sort of mode while he spent time with Clara. The lost work on his CV would have to be forgotten.

“This primitive homestead of yours is inefficient in every way.” Zim was saying before Dib had got a word in. “It’ll be months before I can get this place in working order. You just let things fall apart around you, don’t you Dib stink?” One eyelid curled down, his look sly.

Dib ran a hand across his face before sobering up and putting on his best smile. “Look, urm... there’s this really good cartoon on. You gotta see it!”

Zim hardly looked interested. “Recess can wait.”

“But it’s a special episode!”

“Then record it!”

“But...” He was running out of options. Fast. “I have no one to watch it with. Clara’s just not interested...”

Zim looked once at his handheld circuit board before reluctantly setting it down, “Very well, human, if my presence is that desperately required.”

“Good!” He put his hands on Zim’s skinny shoulders and practically steered him all the way to the lounge, the squeak coming from the heels of the Irken’s loafers dragging along the floor.

Switching on the TV, he flicked through the channels, hoping that there would be something to save him. Zim sat on the sofa using the stepping stool. “It had better be a short episode of whatever this... thing is. Work doesn’t get done by itself you know.”

“Ah here it is!” Dib said sheepishly, turning to give him a weak smile. It was a cartoon of a blue hedgehog. “Trust me! You’ll enjoy it. It gets really good!”

“It had better.”

With no time wasted, Dib flew up the stairs.

Clara sat up in bed, looking frustrated. “What took you so long?”

“Sorry! Urm, work, and Irkens.”

Before long the bed was squeaking against the wall. Zim came up less than ten minutes later, and Dib and Clara had to disengage in a tangle of limbs while he looked in on them from the doorway, holding the Gir doll. “W-What are you doing?” He croakily chirped from the doorway, eyes impossibly wide. “You’re b-both so...sweaty and noisy!”

Scene: Holograms

He left the kitchen, but returned minutes later with his laptop and electronic tablet. With the kitchen curtains drawn to dim the light, he had a number of devices laid out on the table, and when Clara came in to join them, she was impressed to see a hologram pouring out of the computer screen.

In his element, Zim drew up more schematics as easily as laying down paper and more holograms appeared. It was reflected in Dib’s glasses as he studied the projections. Clara could make neither heads nor tails of it as she stood watching them. The holograms showed vast columns of numbers, and everything that was written were in strange symbols, like runes. And accompanying these alien hieroglyphs were diagrams of a machine.

Even Dib wasn’t sitting pretty on the same page. Zim was aloof in his plans and his approaches, and even had an ingrained habit of keeping Clara and Dib at a distance as if he still had trouble trusting them. Zim had done things by himself all his life, and sharing that control wasn’t an easy thing for him.

The alien scarcely looked their way. Strips of code glowed in his bright fuchsia eyes. It was good to have him focused on something. Though he always worked there was a certain distraction in his efforts and in his focus. Now he sat with his back straight, his shoulders firm and his chin raised as he sought key coding in the stratum of alien mumbo-jumbo.

Dib forced the panic from his voice. “Is this for recreational fun, or is it for something else?”

Zim registered the English word ‘fun’ even if he did not know exactly what it meant. That word went into the same ambiguous category of words he struggled to understand the meanings to; such as sex, happiness, human humour and babies.

Dib went under the scrutiny of another long cold look.

“Earth needs protecting...” The aged Elite paused, finding the answer hard to dig up and reveal as if he had crushed it down there, inside, for so long that it was now hard to find and hard to pull it out. “Membrane will take measures to protect this dirt ball by following my instructions.”

Dib kept staring. “Did I just hear you right?”

“Oh s-shut up and stop with your g-gloating!” He snapped, rubbing at the side of his head, both eyes wincing as if working with his protégé was a real headache. After a moment he raised his stylus and drew dots and lines on a hologram that painted them in pink. Clara couldn’t stop staring as Zim drew magical lines into a magical screen. He did not seem to mind his audience, perhaps because he was expecting them to not understand a single thing he was doing.

Zim flicked a hand, and the screen’s current information and jungle of symbols was replaced by weapon blueprints. They stood tall and leaned slightly forwards like masts. “Earth is a backwater planet full of toxicity. It’s hardly worth much, but it’s still up for conquest, as is this pithy little solar system it’s in. The Earth’s sun would make a great source of fuel. It’s how energy cores are made. My Tallest may take an interest.”

When he next looked to Dib and Clara, there was relief in his eyes.

For so long he had never belonged anywhere.

Zim looked again to the hologram. He flicked his wrist, and the jumble of symbols magically metamorphed into English. “Your Membrane will build these anti-ship turrets once I provide him with the design. Their range will blanket the planet and that of your horrible star, keeping you filthy critters safe.”

Dib stood there, taking it in. He hadn’t thought of the Armada paying a visit someday. It was unlikely, but it had obviously been on Zim’s mind.

Since when had this snarling alien pulled his talents, energy and recourses into DEFENDING something?

The Irken smiled. “Wouldn’t it be funny if all they ever did was blow asteroids to little itty bitty bits? The planet’s measly existence would continue to persist until that awful sun of yours finally implodes. Humans. Thriving for evermore. Now that disgusts me.”

Dib was about to speak; to begin verbalizing his shock and disbelief when Zim again flicked his wrist and the screen swapped out weapon blueprints for the ship’s coding. He pressed some infinitesimal transparent button on this transparent screen and a 3D image of Tak’s ship popped into existence. Dib’s heart fell heavy and it fell hard.

Zim’s plans were never that humanly plain. He was clever, and he also liked to keep his real thoughts and real plans close to his chest. He never usually did something unless he reaped the benefits, and he was a sneaky little guy. Not that Dib suspected him of doing anything underhanded with the ship.

Zim. You can’t fly. What do you intend to do?

Just nod and smile at him. Creative outlet and all that, yes dad I remember. This had better not bite me in the ass.

Using a stylus, Zim reached up, and traced a line around the front of the vessel.

“Ooh, that’s pretty. What does that do?” Clara pointed at something that almost looked like a metal flower of alien grotesquery. It spun slowly in the hologram, looking like some hellish rose. It was probably the main core engine, with all its tapering pipes and elements.

Zim, bathed in pink from the screens, gave her an amused, beady look, and quite happily and croakily bragged about core drives, their compounds, auxiliary turbines, a feln guard, plasma charging cells, a hubbard, and so on. Clara looked bewildered in under three seconds of his wistful explaining.

There was no mistaking the fact that this little bastard loved attention. If he so much as looked at Clara the right way, she’d pick him up and cuddle him.

“Hang on a second. What’s this thing back here?” Dib pointed at the hologram of the fuselage. “We could move that, and expand the cockpit.”

“That shouldn’t go there.” Zim’s voice was dusky and small. His hooded eyes could barely stay open but he always led the debate. If anything, Dib was the one trying to keep up with him.

“Why not?” Dib leaned back slightly. He wasn’t a complete novice when it came to repairing and redesigning machines. Irken technology was a huge leap in science and brains, but he was more or less knowledgeable on the parts, and where the power had to go. Yes, connecting it all, and hoping they’d be no leaks would be a bitch. Working with plasma would be a lot different than say, oil or fossil fuels. Zim knew how to make more plasma, and he apparently knew how to recharge the cells in the ship too. Usually a ship worked for centuries with just a power core, but Tak’s power core was too badly damaged to be used. And a damaged core was a dangerous core.

“The ship will explode, that’s why.”

“Zim. I know how to build a ship.”

“No you don’t! You don’t know anything about anything!”

Clara disappeared to make some iced tea for them, and when she returned with a tray loaded with drinks she said, “Don’t forget that Gaz is coming later.”

The very name made Zim’s antenna drop.

It wasn’t like she didn’t know him. Their paths had interwoven with Dib at the centre. She was just like any other enemy he’d had to contend with, except that she could outwit him in one breath, and leave him and his ship battered and smoking. He’d done everything to avoid her since he’d put Dib in a hospital bed – of which he’d done quite a few times. Maybe she’d be okay with his – state – and situation. Or maybe she’d barrel past Dib and Clara and hang him on the wall.

“Let’s not.” Zim said openly, carefully watching their reactions.

“She’s family, Zim. She’s got to come.” Dib patted him on the shoulder. “It’ll be fine.”

He had decided there and then that he would retreat to his room, barricade the door, and fashion a weapon from bits and pieces if he had to.

#just scrappy bits and stuff #invaderzim #saving zim #dib07 #lost scenes #there is more of this rubbish #Epilogue moments

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inucestlover · 5 years ago

Text

The Coffee Shop AU

A RP from Inucestlover and GayleNightingale

from a tumblr prompt by Inucestlover.

Key:

InuYasha’s Thoughts: ‘____’

Sesshomaru’s Thoughts: ((____))

✿･ﾟ:✲: ﾟ･✿ ﾟ･✿･ﾟ:✲: ﾟ･✿ ﾟ･✿･ﾟ:✲: ﾟ･✿ ﾟ･

The sudden rainfall forces InuYasha and Sesshomaru to seek refuge in a nearby café. While inside, Sesshomaru orders a black coffee and some milk tea with cake for InuYasha. They sat inside a booth in front of the shop watching the rain hit the glass outside. After a while Sesshomaru glances at InuYasha. He is slowly drinking his tea as the cool light from outside shines on his face. It looks like a frame from a cinematic film and all Sesshomaru could hear is the light rain from outside, and his heart beating loudly.

He’s had these feelings for a while now but it’s becoming too hard to suppress. He leans slowly towards InuYasha—

“Hello! Sorry for the wait~ Here’s the cake y’all ordered!”

InuYasha turns towards the waitress and accepts the cake slice. Then when he faces Sesshomaru again, he’s frozen leaning across the table.

“Whatcha doing Sesshomaru?”

“I-I was gonna ask for a sip of your tea.” Sesshomaru responds.

————————

“Umm, sure. Here.” Inu shoves it to the far side of the table.

————————

Sesshomaru takes a sip of the milk tea, while cursing internally. ((What was I even trying to do just then?))

“It’s very sweet”, Sesshomaru calmly states. “How’s the cake?”

————————

Inuyasha watches Sesshomaru's face. ‘He's not gagging. Maybe he's ok with my hanyou germs.’ Hope arises in his heart. "Sesshomaru? Want to try a bite of my cake?" He puts a bite on his fork and holds it as he pushes it halfway across the table. His heart flutters.

————————

Sesshomaru stares at the fork for a moment before biting into the cake. The cake itself isn’t anything worthwhile, but the act of eating something given by InuYasha made it delicious. It is then when Sesshomaru noticed a light blush spread across Inuyasha’s face.

“Are you getting a fever? I told you to dry off properly before sitting down”

————————

Inuyasha blushes more and dips his head forward, his bangs covering his face. Mumbling he replies, “Maybe I am a little under the weather. Could you take me home and maybe stay awhile to make sure I’m okay?”

Sesshomaru’s heart skips a beat and the pounding in his chest quickens. It’s the first time he’s ever been invited to Inuyasha’s place. Up until this point, they would merely meet up at whatever place they need to be.

“Alright, I’ll go. Do you have medicine at home, or do we need to get some at a store?”

———————

Inuyasha shutters with excitement. Sesshomaru is going to come to his home. HE is going to come to his home! “Umm, maybe we should stop by the pharmacy? For Tylenol?” Inuyasha blushes brighter as he thought of another item at the pharmacy he could purchase.

———————

Sesshomaru begins to gather his things and stands up from the booth.

“Well the rain has stopped pouring outside for now. Let’s head to the pharmacy before it starts again.”

Sesshomaru then extends his hand to help InuYasha out of his seat.

———————

Inuyasha takes his hand and notices it's sweaty too. He peeks out of the corner of his eye at his brother. Sesshomaru looks calm, cool and collected. ‘Just my imagination. I’m just nervous and excited. Kami! He’s so handsome.’ Inuyasha sighs as he stands and gathers his belongings. ‘Can’t act too eager. Can’t act too eager.’ The mantra repeats as they walk through the door and out on the street.

———————

The pair begins to walk aimlessly in a random direction. InuYasha has been in deep thought since they left the café. His cute fluffy ears are twitching at the outside noises. Meanwhile, Sesshomaru is praying he can’t hear the beating of his heart. Whether it is on purpose or subconsciously, InuYasha hasn’t let go of Sesshomaru’s hand. Their hands are warm and fit perfectly interlocked with each other. Occasionally Sesshomaru rubs his thumb along the back of Inuyasha’s hand.

To break the silence, Sesshomaru speaks out, “Um, InuYasha, are we going in the right direction? I don’t actually know where you live.”

——————

Inuyasha is embarrassed. He hasn’t been paying attention and raises his head to look around the street. He doesn’t know where they are. Shuffling his feet, he stammers, “I guess I really don’t feel well. I don’t know where we are either.” Embarrassed, his face turns red again. ‘He’s gonna think I’m an idiot. He’s going to drop me at the door and bolt. I’m so stupid. Why would my beautiful, intelligent brother even want to hang around me?’ “Let me ask my smart phone.” He pulls out his smart phone and pings their location. Fortunately, they are two blocks from a pharmacy and just a little out of the way from his flat. Feeling a bit relieved that he isn’t a lost cause, Inuyasha steps forward briskly pulling Sesshomaru with him.

———————

With a tug, Sesshomaru is pulled towards the direction of the pharmacy. They quicken their pace as soon as InuYasha begins to recognize where they are. Now slightly out of breath, they both enter the store and buy the medicine they need

The rain is beginning to drizzle again and Sesshomaru suggests, “InuYasha, do you think we should run towards your place?” Then after a moment Sesshomaru remarks, “Can you run in your condition or shall I carry you bridal style? I don’t want to wait outside again.”

———————

Just then a truck goes by through a puddle and both men are soaked.

Inuyasha, drenched, looks to his brother. The silk shirt is stuck to his chest. Erect nipples are visible. The outline of his defined pectoralis muscles and serratus anterior capture the inu hanyou’s eyes. ‘If he carries me, I’ll have a nosebleed.’

——————

Sesshomaru is now visibly pissed, and glares at the direction of the truck. There are not enough words to describe how long he took to pick out and buy the best outfit for this date with InuYasha. ((They did that on purpose. Those fucking assholes)) It’s at this point when Sesshomaru feels InuYasha squeeze his hand and point the direction of his apartment complex.

——————

Inuyasha feels the air around him get heavy. His big brother has released some of his youkai. He knows he needs to do something quick. So, he gets on his tip toes and leans into Sesshomaru’s chest. “Help me, Big brother,” he whispers. “That’s my flat over there.” Then he pulls Sesshomaru across the street and up the stairs to the 2nd floor apartment.

Inuyasha knows the apartment is clean because he straightened it before their date in hopes that Sesshomaru would visit. But he doesn’t remember if he put up his sex toy.

——————

Before Sesshomaru knew it, he is inside Inuyasha’s flat. It is a lot cleaner and larger than he imagined.

There is a small kitchen near the front entrance that has a large red fridge covered in pictures of friends and reminders. And for a moment Sesshomaru’s wonders who they are.

In front of the kitchen is a bar table with three stools and further inside is the living room. There’s an old brown pre-owned couch, small wooden coffee table, and a tv hanging on the wall. On top of the table, InuYasha has aligned his tv remote and gaming controller to the side. Underneath the TV is a small cabinet filled with games, movies, and other stuff.

To the left is a small hallway that Sesshomaru presumes leads to Inuyasha’s room and bathroom. The door is open to his room. He wants to peek inside and see.

After finishing looking around the main area of InuYasha’s apartment, Sesshomaru remembers InuYasha’s fever!

“InuYasha, we need to get you out of your clothes!”

“Now?!”

——————

Inuyasha has been taking advantage of Sesshomaru’s distraction and is looking around for his anal stimulator. He would just die if Sesshomaru sees it. He is preparing to walk to the bathroom when he hears Sesshomaru tell him to strip. He startles and then moves forward to the bathroom. “I’ll just go to the bathroom and strip out of these wet clothes. Do you think you can find a robe for me in my closet? I have two. You are welcome to wear one while your clothes dry. The washer/dryer are over there. The tea pot is on the counter and the liquor is in the cupboard above the sink.”

A few moments later Inuyasha has torn the bathroom apart and can’t find the sex toy anywhere. He strips off the clothes and lays them over the shower door.

‘Brilliant. The toy isn’t here. I’m naked and my brother is in my room. Now what?’

——————

Sesshomaru takes InuYasha’s offer and walks toward the bedroom.

((InuYasha went inside the bathroom in hurry, most likely because the cold clothes were freezing his skin.)) Or at least that’s what he thought.

The bedroom is small and has a large queen-sized bed that takes 70% of the space inside. Next to the bed is a nightstand with a lamp and a digital alarm.

As he opens the closet door stuff begins to fall around him.

((That’s where all the mess is! I was beginning to think InuYasha is cleaner than I am.))

He begins searching for the two robes that are falling off their hangers in the back of the closet.

He carefully walks around the mess on the floor and returns to the dryer. Sesshomaru puts his wet clothes inside and wraps himself in the robe.

Heading back to InuYasha’s room he feels bad for disturbing the mess and starts throwing things back inside the closet. ((It is already messy inside. Why should I be the one to organize it?))

In the corner of his eye, he sees a container roll underneath the bed. Sesshomaru goes down to pull the container out and what he grabs isn’t what he expected. It feels like silicone and starts vibrating the second he touches it.

Quickly retracting his hand, Sesshomaru bends down further to get a better look at what he grabbed. Pulling it forward, Sesshomaru would have never imagined InuYasha owned a prostate massager. Standing up he tries to figure out how to turn it off when he hears the bathroom door open.

—————

Inuyasha peeks out the bathroom door. “Sesshomaru? Do you have a robe for me? I’m kinda cold.”

—————

In a panicked state, Sesshomaru finds and pushes the off button and hides the toy under a pillow.

((This is so stupid. It’s like a child hiding their phone before a parent walks in to check on them during the night.))

In a slightly higher tone before coughing to fix his voice, Sesshomaru replies, “Yeah. *cough* I have your robe. Just give me a minute to walk there”

He hands the robe to InuYasha with his head turned. He couldn’t bear to see Inuyasha’s face because the images of InuYasha using the toy have filled his mind. He feels the blush creep onto his face. In moments like this he’s grateful for his cheek markings. Most mistake his light blushes as part of the marks and he prays InuYasha does too.

“I’m gonna go wait in the living room while you get dressed”

——————

‘Man, I wish he would wait in my bed’ Inuyasha thought, but out loud he says, “Okay. Be there in a minute.”

He takes several cleansing breaths and then pulls the lightweight robe around his body and tightens the belt.

——————

Walking out into his living room he notices Sesshomaru relaxing on his couch, his legs spread comfortably, and his left leg uncovered by the robe. The long pale leg looks as though it has been sculpted from fine white marble by the great Michelangelo himself. ‘There is a divine being in my living room,’ Inuyasha thinks. ‘This is not real. I can’t let myself believe it. My heart will be crushed when I realize this is a fever induced fantasy.’

“Hey Sesshomaru? Would you like some tea?”

Then Inuyasha swoons and passes out.

——————

In an instant, Sesshomaru runs to InuYasha’s side. His fever burns the backside of Sesshomaru’s hand. Without a second thought, Sesshomaru carries his little brother to bed.

((Damnit! I’m over here thinking utter nonsense, meanwhile InuYasha’s condition is worsening by the second. I need to get some cold water))

Sesshomaru dashes to the kitchen and begins opening random drawers. Once he finds a decently sized bowl, he fills it with cold water and carefully takes it to InuYasha’s room. Using a small towel from the bathroom, he begins trying to lower his brother’s temperature.

InuYasha’s ears are flat on his head and his eyes barely open. The cold water hitting his skin causes a release of a small whimper.

Sesshomaru is then in and out of InuYasha’s field of vision. Bringing and giving him a variety of different things; Medicine, soup, ice water, etc.

But all InuYasha could remember before going to a dreamless sleep is a small kiss on the forehead.

——————

Inuyasha shivers from the fever. Moaning he mumbles, “I’m cold.”

——————

“Would you mind if I warm you up?” Sesshomaru whispers into InuYasha’s ear.

The bed creaks as Sesshomaru puts his whole weight onto the frame. It takes a long time to calm his brother’s temperature, but he is starting to look better.

The bed looks so inviting the more Sesshomaru moves towards InuYasha.

——————

“Oooh, you feel so good and warm,” Inuyasha speaks in his delirium. “How I wish you slept with me all the time. So warm...” The inuhanyou wraps his body around his big brother. Inuyasha couldn’t get close enough to Sesshomaru and begins to burrow into the small space between Sesshomaru and the bed.

——————

Sesshomaru wraps an arm across the smaller man’s frame, pulling him closer to his body. InuYasha responds by nuzzling his face into the nape of Sesshomaru’s neck.

——————

Inuyasha wakes to sunbeams peeking through the curtains. He feels so warm and comfortable. He considers rolling over and pulling the blankets up to block the sun and snooze another 10 minutes when he realizes there is warm air rolling across his ear every 6-10 seconds. He stops to process this revelation. Then he touches his blanket. It feels different.

SESSHOMARU is in his bed! Hugging him! Inuyasha's heart starts racing.

——————

Sesshomaru feels his pillow shift underneath his arm.

((I must have slept closer to the edge of the bed last tonight)), he sleepily wonders as he pulls the pillow closer to his chest.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Sesshomaru feels the pounding of InuYasha’s heart against his chest. It is then he recalls the events of yesterday. He opens his eyes and is greeted by InuYasha’s golden eyes staring back at him.

Maybe because it is early in the morning, but Sesshomaru can’t suppress his emotions and flashes the hanyou a smile.

“Good morning, InuYasha”

——————

“Ahhhh Uhhh Ohhhh. Sesshomaru? What—-Why? Wow.” Inuyasha is dumbstruck, embarrassed, speechless, and totally confused. He runs to the bathroom.

——————

“Huh?”

((What is that all about?))

Sesshomaru hears the bathroom sink turn on as InuYasha splashes some water on his face. With a deep breath of air, Sesshomaru sits up in bed. His robe falls off one shoulder revealing his sculpted chest. With one hand he begins brushing through the knots in his hair while waiting for InuYasha.

——————

Inuyasha splashes cold water on his face and stares at his reflection. Sesshomaru is going to think he is a complete idiot. He’d better go face the music. Head down he walks back into his room and starts talking. “Uhmm sorry. I’m a little confused why you are in my bed, Sesshomaru?” Just as he looks up, he sees the sculpted chest of the god lounging in his bed and he stares.

——————

After a big yawn Sesshomaru speaks, “You told me that you were cold and after spending hours trying to regulate your temperature, I didn’t feel comfortable leaving you here alone.”

——————

“Oh,” Inuyasha ponders. “So, you were just watching over me? I don’t remember telling you I was cold. I remember walking out into my living room and that’s it. Guess I owe you something. Thank you for watching over me when I was sick. And thank you for keeping me warm and Good Morning Sesshomaru.”

Inuyasha drew out the thanks so he could gaze over Sesshomaru’s perfect body. ‘I got to sleep with him finally, but I don’t remember a thing.’

“Did you sleep okay? Do you need some more rest? I ruined our date by getting sick. I was really looking forward to spending more time with you.”

‘Maybe I can get him to stay in bed a little longer,’ Inuyasha hoped.

“I can bring us some coffee and Danish to eat in bed,” Inuyasha cringed. ‘Was that too suggestive?’

———————

A light blush spreads across Sesshomaru’s cheeks when InuYasha calls their usual outing a date.

“Breakfast sounds nice”

InuYasha’s grins as he walks to the kitchen with a skip in his step. Meanwhile, Sesshomaru decides to move his body to give InuYasha a spot to sit.

((It’s a miracle InuYasha didn’t fall off))

Putting his head on the other pillow, Sesshomaru feels something hard underneath.

((THE FUCKING TOY! What the hell am I gonna do? Why didn’t I just throw it in the closet like everything else? Ok. Calm down Sesshomaru, we can figure this out. InuYasha is in the kitchen cooking and we have who knows how long before he comes back. Let’s just throw it back in the closet underneath the pile of forgotten outfits. That way he won’t discover you know about!))

Standing up Sesshomaru takes the anal stimulator 9000™️* and goes to open the closet door when he sees InuYasha at the room doorway.

*(I’m not actually sure that’s an actual product but it’s funny)

———————

Inuyasha dashes out of the bedroom and starts brewing two cups of coffee while he prepares two Danishes he has picked up for a special occasion— This was that special occasion if there ever was a special occasion! He finds a tray and puts the cups and Danishes on it and heads back to his bedroom. He plans to set the tray down on Sesshomaru’s lap and then sit down next to him after grabbing the TV remote. He had even thought to ask about watching cartoons

“Want to watch cartoons? It’ll be kinda like it was when we were kids. Could be fun.”

BUT all of that evaporates the second he sees the sex toy in Sesshomaru’s hand.

——————

“H-hi InuYasha”

*CRASH*

InuYasha drops everything. The two cups shatter as the hot coffee splatters onto InuYasha’s feet. But he doesn’t feel physical pain anymore.

Sesshomaru tries to defuse the situation, “Um, don’t worry it’s natural for everyone to masturbate! We all do it once we reach sexual maturity!”

((God dammit stop talking. Why can’t I stop talking))?

It didn’t help that he was gesturing with the toy still in his hand. “Hell, I even masturbate from time to ti-”

—————

Inuyasha grabs the toy from Sesshomaru’s hand and tosses it into the closet.

‘Time for another tactic.’ Inuyasha squares his shoulders.

“So that’s where it was. Well, I’ll just put that back in the closet, clean up this mess and, and, and we can watch cartoons.”

Inuyasha is having an out of body experience. He moves like a robot, cleaning up the floor and then walking back to the kitchen with the shattered remains of his self-esteem. Sesshomaru will never think positively of him again. He bends over the kitchen sink. He feels sick to his stomach from being so embarrassed. Why would his perfect brother ever want to hang out with him again?

Sesshomaru follows Inuyasha and comes up behind him as he leans over the kitchen sink. He hugs the hanyou from behind and whispers in his ear.

——————

“I’m telling the truth when I say that the toy doesn’t bother me. The only reason I panicked is because...for whatever reason my brain goes stupid whenever your around. And I don’t know why that happens.”

Sesshomaru pulls away and looks at his hands. “My palms get sweaty and my heart pounds rapidly against my chest whenever you're near. Butterflies are also constantly in my stomach. But as unusual as this feeling gets, I still want more of you.”

Sesshomaru pauses for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

“I want to see you happy and healthy, of course like any brother would. But there is a part of me that wants something greater. And it’s not sexual or primal, it’s something more that I don’t know how to put into words! Have you ever felt that? And if so, what do you do? Cause I don’t know. For the first time in years I don’t know and it’s terrifying.”

——————

Inuyasha’s large round eyes sparkle as he looks deep into the amber eyes of his brother. “You mean it? This isn’t a fever fantasy? You want more of me? You don’t want to run away because I’m some idiot?

Inuyasha has completely turned around by now and is inches from being chest to chest with his brother. That amazing sculpted chest is right in front of him. He could touch it if he could be brave enough. He has always dreamed of kissing it and stroking his hands over the defined lines. He licks his lips to capture the drool that is preparing to escape.

His ears pick up a rapid heartbeat and his eyes get even larger.

“Your heart really is racing? For me? Pinch me.”

——————

Sesshomaru leans forward and kisses InuYasha, pushing him gently against the kitchen cabinets. Putting one arm around InuYasha’s waist and the other behind his head, his mind is blank as his body moves on its own. He can’t suppress these emotions anymore. And even more so as InuYasha melts in his arms. His lips are as soft as velvet against his lips. He wanted to make this kiss last forever.

Pulling away, Sesshomaru looks into InuYasha’s eyes and asks, “Does that answer your question?”

——————

“Yeh. But can you tell me again?” the inuhanyou smirks and leans in to recapture his brother’s lips.

#inucest #inuyasha/sesshomaru #sesshomaru/inuyasha #fanfic #groupchat roleplay #gc rp

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