#the ones who pour out all the plastic packets from the boxes onto the floor and smile at the camera as they do so

[tackledkey]

I wish every $200+ tiktok shein hauler dies a gruesome death in a sweatshop ❤️

[matchamorphosis]

MS ROSIE THAT HEADCANNON OMFG MAY I PRETTY PLEASE REQUEST DADDY ARI- maybe like hes busy with work but youre really needy so he lets you ride his thigh i lub mean daddy ari🥺<33333

𝐶𝐴𝑁𝐷𝑌 𝐶𝑂𝐴𝑇𝐸𝐷 𝐶𝐻𝐸𝑅𝑈𝐵

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || Ari hasn’t been paying you much attention and so you take matters in your own hands as well as your short cherry skirt.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 || smut smut smut

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 || alt. AU — daddy!ari levinson × [black//woc]fem!reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || 18+ nsfw, thigh riding, masochism, kinda dark!ari, spanking, hair pulling, lots of edging, tons of crying, Ari is a big meanie :(( MINORS DNI — 18+ INTERACTION ONLY

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 || candy by doja cat

𝐰. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 || yes jasmeen of course you can!! 🥺💗 i’m gonna make daddy!ari extra mean and dirty for you and i’m gonna add a little bit of bratty reader cause in this house we love mean daddies and spoiled brats! 💗💗💗

Ari’s eyes follow the screen to the stacks of paperwork in front of him. all this was due by the end of the week and he still didn’t file the information from the online form to the files laying on his desk.

there were times where Ari broke some work related limits of hours upon hours of desk work fueled by caffeine and your kisses of encouragement but then again he did have his limits.

these were those times but no matter how much he promised himself he’d take a break, meaning to check up on you and see what you’ve been up to. although time seemed to pass and Ari hadn’t realize that that side note was forgotten three hours ago on the account of his mind relentlessly kept on reeling him back into his paperwork.

the large coffee mug you made him at a pottery class sits besides a stack of files is pushing its fifth refill of the day as Ari pours the remaining bitter black liquid from the coffeepot. the dark black liquid flowing into the yellow painted, honeypot shaped mug.

it makes him smile at the memory of when you gifted it to him, wrapped in sparkly wrapping paper he presses kisses all over your face in gratitude. he always complained on needing a mug since he always dropped them and he was certain to never drop of break this special mug his princess made him.

its sudden with the loose grip he has on the coffee mug that the coffee spills over the brink of the mug and onto a few papers. the action causes Ari to blurt out an aggregated scold before fanning out the papers soaked in coffee to the side near a fan.

sitting back down on his chair his eyes look over the work he has completed. stapling and putting away documents that have been signed and filed out as well as closing off tabs that weren’t important anymore-

he still has more work cut out for him

his rushing thoughts and swift hands bearing a pen and the other a computer mouse, his head shoots up as a rhythm like knock echoes at the home office door. “come in,”

the low rumble of his voice speaks out as his eyes and attention to back on the papers in his grasps. sipping on his black coffee, slightly sweetened in his desired cream and sugar packets, his focus and eyes stick to his paperwork.

the door opens to reveal you, slightly irritated and desperate for attention from your daddy. you were certain with your presence and the way your heels clack against the flooring he would lift his head up. adjust the small glasses on the brink of his nose and acknowledge you, tell you that you look cute today or stop writing all together but it doesn’t spark interest to him at all.

thin spectacles on the brink of his nose, loose curtains of hair rest on the sides of his face. as you take steps closer you can see the worn out exhaustion in his blue hues and the deep darkness of his under eye bags. daddy hasn’t slept great in days, always joining you in bed in the early morning hours and waking before you can. so now knowing that your mission for attention might not be the best idea, you know when your daddy gets like this.

it’s best to leave him work but it wasn’t healthy for him to overwork. it’s stress none stop about getting work done cause it wasn’t good for daddy! and despite you feeling a burn in your belly that you wanted to deny and push aside for him...

even you had your limits of being deprived from his embraces, praises and touches.

a solid three days it’s been that Ari has been glued behind his desk. it irked you how demanding his job was but you had to be his supportive princess, he needed all the support and encouragement. even if it meant to ignore the wetness in between your thighs that needed to be catered and handled by your daddy then so be it...

maybe you can get a bit of attention, a morsel of affirmation from him and you’ll be set to go. maybe you shouldn’t have worn the outfit you have on if you now just want a praise of two but you don’t hesitate to get comfortable. settling in one of the form fitting arm chairs at the far corner of your daddy’s office near the towering bookshelves and his hanged degrees.

admiring how smart and brave your daddy is with his degrees, certificates and honors as you play with the little charm bracelet he gave you. throwing one smooth leg over the other your mini skirt rakes up to reveal your upper thighs but still covering up what little you’re trying to hide. you liked dressing up pretty for daddy and he did to, today was no exception cause you were planning on cheering him up.

when he would finally realize you were here- you roll your eyes as he takes another sip of coffee. taking all your necessities that you stuffed in your Strawberry Shortcake book bag, you laid the elements of entertainment on the coffee table in front of you near the plush armchairs.

one of your lisa frank coloring books being thrown across the expansive wooden tabletop, you take out your bright vivid gel pens and pastel markers from your coloring pouch. and by taking out you unzip the pink pouch and turn it upside down for it all to fall on the table.

the clashing plastic crash of your coloring tools against the polished tabletop alert Ari- his head shooting up as his eyes meet your distanced body uncapping a scented marker and opening a page of the coloring book.

“princess? I didn’t see you, what are you doing here?” his voice breaks as he drops the pen in his hands briefly, softly smiling as he sees your face driven in concentration. his smile deepens when your nose doing the cute little scrunch thing when you’re unsure about something but plan on figuring out.

hair styled in one of your complicated yet sophisticated hairdos, his large sweater he allowed you to wear since the morning still adorns your bodice comfortably. knees bended, he sees them bare but an outline to a crimson red skirt falls on your hips.

it’s a shame Ari couldn’t get up and scoop you up in his arms, play and color with you for a bit without the ball and chain of his work holding him hostage at his desk.

“so now you notice i’m here,” your voice lightly snaps but it’s mellowed as your lips pull into a pout, pulling the strings of his heart. a sense of guilt rises in his chest because he knows he hasn’t been caring for you properly these past few days. without the little moments of meals and getting ready for bed he hasn’t been spending time with you that much.

“don’t be like that princess. daddy just has alot of work to finish-” but you still shake your head, confusing Ari as you cross your arms over your chest.

“but I don’t want daddy to work! daddy works forever! I want special time!” you whine, your eyes tearing up as you slam your hands against the table. making the coloring books, pens and markers quake at your mercy.

at this moment Ari’s at your mercy, and if he permits you to continue this stirring frenzy who knows how much he’s going to spend away from his work to calm you from a potential tantrum. so the words that come out of Ari’s mouth make you hault your next actions of crying and screaming-

the simple notion of, “come here princess, bring your coloring book with you. we can work together,” makes your tears stop falling and your body rising to leap towards him. grabbing your things quickly and making your way to your daddy. it’s now that he sees you in your outfit that has his eyes sticking anywhere else but yours.

a smirk curling your glossy, cherry painted lips you turn around for him so he could see your little ‘outfit’ the flow of your skirt tempting to rise up at the bottom curve of your ass but you’re hoping to save the surprise do what’s underneath it later, “do you like my skirt daddy?” you say, your eyes tracing his and he only but stares at anything else but your eyes.

the rich gleam of your thighs and long legs, the way your chest peaks out through the fabric to his sweater, your tempting glossy lips and those damn heels...

his response is his hands patting down on his thigh, enough to practically make your heart jump at the sight. it’s been that long since you’ve sat on his lap but then again you constantly need to be on it.

a moonlight smile pulls at the corner of his lips when you drop your coloring books and markers on his desk. making sure to not mess up his paperwork with yours, Ari moves his papers to make way for your things.

sighing happily when you settle your bum in between both of his thighs to get comfy. sweet scent of strawberries and cream from your shampoo wafting to his nose and the stark fruitiness of your scented markers mixing with the coffee steam from his mug marry together.

the two of you do your separate jobs peacefully, with the exception of you reaching for his honeypot mug to have a lick of coffee that he tsks at you. moving the mug away from your grabby small hands.

“that’s a big people drink sweet pea. i’ll give you a juice box if you’re thirsty,” but you just shake your head and get right back to shading with your colors.

“daddy may I please play my hello kitty game?” your perky voice starts as you start coloring the detailed tiger cub. emphasizing on the may and please, your daddy was a sucker for good manners and etiquette.

shifting against only his right thigh now, your back hunches to reach the desk with difficulty until he shift to get you comfortable. continuing coloring but your eyes leave once in a while to stare at the keyboard Ari’s fingers clack with each key, “not now princess.” Ari hums and you frown sourly.

the online hello kitty theme park game would be an excellent way to have you distracted as he works but at the same time Ari doesn’t think it’ll be healthy for you to invest that much screen time. and besides he’s working on it, leaning your head on his bicep you let go of that unwanted answer and get back to color tinting and detailing.

Ari files in the margins of the paperwork and writes everything out as you do with your coloring sheets. as the minutes turn into hours, his mug once again being filled with coffee and your sippy cup filled with your juice. you finish coloring page after coloring page and Ari stack after stack of paperwork.

leaving you halfway done with your one hundred and seventy-five page Lisa Frank coloring book and your daddy only one stack of field files. the amount he managed to finish has him impressed of himself and grateful to his special good luck charm sitting perfectly right on his thigh.

“daddy look at all the pages I finished!” you cheer as you pull out the coloring book for him to look over, practically bouncing on his thigh from excitement. the dazzling brightness of your wide toothy smile bringing a large smile to Ari’s face as he takes the coloring book to look over at your hard work.

flipping each page, the drawings and outlined sheets were more colorful and detailed than the last and Ari was indeed speechless and at awe. proud of his creative princess and her clever unique technique with scented markers and glitter gel pens.

“princess these are gorgeous! I have a little artist on my hands don’t I?” Ari grins and his words make the wide smile you have crinkle as your eyes dash away from his flustered.

your bashful state makes Ari chuckle but his eyes don’t pull away to continue analyzing and admiring your work. you indeed did an excellent job at coloring and Ari thought you’d struggle a bit with the detailed sheets of Lisa Frank. the refrigerator tonight will be decorated in these latest masterpieces, he’ll make sure of it.

and you know what? you deserve a reward.

Ari thought and he bends to the side to open the second compartment of his desk just above his organized files. pulling the drawer open, his hands roam over the pens, staples and office supplies in search for the treats.

stopping his short search when his fingers grab the bag of heart shaped lollipops he at times rewarded you when you listened to him extra carefully. he grabs one and brings it up to your eyesight, enjoying how your eyes light up and follow the lollipop with each motion.

starlight eyes widen and focus on the cherry lollipop in your daddy’s grasp then stare up at him again, “is that for me daddy?” you words drip in eagerness, wanting to taste the sugary sweet artificial fruit against your tongue.

Ari’s eyes playfully squint against your mischievous ones, his fingers undo the wrapper and disregard it aside on the desk. wonderstroke eyes looking over the bare heart shaped lollipop, you can smell the tangy cherry and your mouth waters.

although you don’t expect daddy to take the lollipop in his mouth. a pout pulling your lips as you rock against his thigh for a taste and you stop once your daddy takes it out with a smart delightful pop!

“open up for daddy princess,” and you don’t need to be told twice as you open your mouth so Ari could place the heart lolli in your mouth. “tongue out sweet girl,” and you stick your tongue flat out, making Ari smile at your good listening skills.

your glossy lips closing around the sweet candy on a stick, you hum at the sweet taste, “thank you daddy,” Ari simply kisses your forehead before patting your head, getting straight into work.

despite the candy he gave you, you’re still upset he still is ignoring you. by all means you could color as many pages in your coloring book for eternity but they never gave you the same satisfaction then the attention daddy gave you.

being deprived of it, you’ve also been deprived of his cock.

locked away in the depths of your shared bedroom you couldn’t just replace his thick fingers with yours. your pink silicon toys with his cock because they didn’t reach the golden spot he easily could reach. and you couldn’t rub your panty clothed pussy against one of your pillows and pretend it was Ari’s body.

no matter how much you wanted to touch yourself at times- hell you wanted to touch yourself when you were in your playroom this early afternoon. Ari obviously wouldn’t notice since his head was deep in paperwork but you knew you couldn’t break one of his golden rules.

right now daddy was right here, you were sitting on his very lap and compared to him you were a little thing in desperately critical need to be taken care of. your slicked cunt wasn’t going to stop over-examining your daddy’s big arms that caged you in. his large hands that held the pen that looked so small in it as he wrote. his wide muscular chest that you rest your back against.

not to mention the soft and tender caresses of his one hand rubbing your thigh through your fringed scarlet red skirt. soft lips pressing gentle kisses on your hairline here and there along with the scratch of his thick beard. the soft spoken praises he whispered in your ear as you colored quietly for him.

daddy himself made you needy, very needy. because as much as you could sit still and color quietly and be his good girl you desperately wanted to grind your cunt against his thigh.

but then again who were you to ask for permission?

the sudden shift your body has against his thigh doesn’t ring any bells or blast any alarms since he just thinks you’re simply shifting to find a comfortable position.

wandering fingers trace the veins bursting from your daddy’s flexed hands and forearms that grip his pen as he writes. as well as the other that’s hooked around your belly to keep you still, finding the perfect rhythm to roll your hips against ari’s thigh.

holding in a whimper you suck on the lollipop hard, picturing the heart shaped lolli has the tip of his cock but then again it just makes you drip pathetically against your daddy’s thigh even thinking of that. the burning pleasure vibrating at your core as your hips continue to rock onto the denim of your daddy’s jeans. the slick of your pussy soaking your panties and the honey seeps through the crotch of the thin lace thing.

as much as you’re doing a good job at keeping your little sounds to yourself and throwing Ari off at your dirty work as you carry on coloring he isn’t oblivious to the wetness that is drenching his thigh nor your ongoing grind you have on it.

no matter how considerable you told him earlier that you were coloring the page you’re working on for him and how adorable you looked grinding your desperate cunt on his thigh.

you didn’t ask for permission

Ari’s sure if he could lift your body away from his thigh they’re would be a wet patch stained on his jeans. he can hear the sloppiness of your wet folds and slick with each rock your hips have. the smell of your arousal filling his nose, the cherry in your breath as you let out a little whimper. feeling the loose string of your orgasm building in the pit of your belly beginning to tighten as you roll and rock your hips to the lace that makes you melt.

“stop it,” Ari’s low rumble commanded, his hands still writing something but his eyes dash from his work to you. eyes closed and face clouded in lust as you persist your grinding. head and conscious tucked away in your dirty little dream world. Ari doesn’t let the fact that you’re sucking on the lollipop like it’s his cock or the little moans that sound like high pitched hums.

he gave you you’re a reward and he can easily take it away

oblivious of your daddy’s true intention you moan when his hand lands on your head, stroking through your hair until he takes a handful of it and pulls your head back. a gasp escaping your lips, your eyes open and the grind you have on his thigh comes to a crashing stop at the painful tug.

“daddy let go!” you loudly whine. your eyes watering at your ruined orgasm and your hair potentially getting ruined by your daddy’s harsh hold.

another cry escapes your lips when ari pulls your head back even more, causing your back to arch as his breath wafts against your earlobe. “daddy told you to stop, princess. is my little princess a dumb baby or is my little princess too busy fucking herself on daddy’s thigh to listen?”

the coarseness of his remark makes you shiver, a whimper and cry leaving your lips as your eyes water as the hold he has on your hair tightens.

“get your filthy cunt off of my thigh and keep coloring that picture for me. can you do that for me or you going to wander and get lost in that whorish brain of yours?”

rapidly nodding your head up and down and lift your hips over his thigh, your need to please and answer his question quickly makes him chuckle into your hair. although you’re still whimpering and pouting over your ruined hair, you spent all morning making it cute and perfect all for it to be ruined with a single tug from his large hands.

hot bothered breath and searing lips grazing against the shell of your ear causes your wetness to seep and drip onto your rubbing thighs. catching you in the act, Ari’s free hand pulls the skirt above your hips, expecting you to wear some kind of tiny lace panties but you aren’t wearing anything.

blue eyes don’t meet any scandalous undergarment, just your plump ass and your dripping cunt desperate for his touch. desperate for a release and his attention, his hands examine the flimsy material for a skirt that deliciously hugs and covers your hips.

feeling your daddy’s stare on your princess parts, it makes your heart jump and thump when his hands grab at your ass. kneading the flesh of it before gripping the waistline of the cherry red skirt.

“daddy-?” another gasp escapes your lips when a loud tare ripples throughout the room and the weight of cold air hitting your slicked, exposed pussy.

Ari grunts as he takes the fabric of your now ripped skirt and throws it onto the floor without a care, all he wants to see is your pussy. a large hand comes down to slap your ass, enjoying the way it bounces back like it’s a response. it has all the blood and lust flowing down south to his hardening cock.

“do daddy a favor princess and shut the fuck up before daddy makes you,” the threat makes you whimper, the lollipop in your mouth swirling sweetly against your tongue as your daddy pinches and gripes handfuls of your ass. slapping the flesh and watching it bounce, he wants to dig his teeth in your peach flesh.

“take my sweater off. I want nothing on what’s mine. do you understand?” Ari groans in your ear as his hands glide around your hips to dip into your cunt, his fingers stroking your folds and not believeing how wet you are. “oh and princess, the heels stay on,”

whimpering and following his order quickly, grabbing his sweater from the helm and lift the heavy wool material of the sweater above your head. body fully bare and under the heat of his burning glance, you drop the thick article of clothing in your hands on the floor. leaving the heels on as he commanded, feeling the lust filled burn of his stare intensify as you rest your hands together on his knee waiting.

waiting impatiently for the matter for his next command. the smell of the baby oil and sweet strawberry lotion he rubbed on your curves earlier that day hits his nose and he moans. you look, smell and- as he takes his fingers in his mouth and moans- taste like candy.

hearing the sudden sound of a heavy metal buckle of his belt loosen, Ari’s hard cock rises up and hits the hard muscle of his belly. an untamed groan escapes oats his lips when you turn your head over your shoulder to see him rubbing the tip of his cock with his thumb.

those starlight eyes that usually gleam in their faux innocence stare back at the fire in his eyes and you pout. wanting to touch daddy’s cock and taste him on your tongue. but your eyes tear up when he takes his thumb and suck the white cum into his mouth, not leaving enough for you to taste.

it makes you whip your head away from his handsome smug face. Ari doesn’t ignore the sniff out of you as he sets sight of your bare body in front of him. resting your elbows and body weight on the desk your arched back leaves loads of space for him to glide his hands through. running delicious shivers throughout your spine before he slaps your ass again. stinging and burning but your cunt creams in pleasure as you bite your bottom lip.

“my slutty princess wasn’t wearing a bra under daddies sweater? no panties under those scraps for a skirt? fucking knew you looked too good. wanted daddy to find out and ruin your tiny pussy, didn’t you? wanted to distract me from work? nasty little girl thinking she can get what she wants.”

not daring to let out another moan, his hand still gripping your hair loosens as his free hand rises up your waist to pinch a nipple. “answer me slut. you get nothing if you don’t,” his hiss rings and normally you would laugh at him in this state. telling off his stupid hunchmen on the phone as you got all hot and bothered as he yelled at them, making them beg for his forgiveness.

now you’re on the end of that anger; and you don’t mind it one but as his large calloused hands grab the fragments of your ripped skirt on the floor before analyzing your bare body arched pretty and posed for him. in nothing but your big girl heels with your cute lacy white socks, his cock is painfully hard now as the tip paints his abdomen in precum.

“yes daddy. I wanted you to fuck me. I wanted you to stop working because you haven’t touched me and I want cummies! I deserve cummies!” you cry but the words are too sloshed and unreadable from the lollipop in your mouth.

it’s quick that Ari takes the stick and pulls it away from your mouth with a swift and perky pop! a loud whine excludes your lips from his sole action but it’s replaced with a gasp as Ari slaps your mouth, “shut your big brat hole up before I stuff it shut myself,” and you moaned at him, fucking moaned at the threat.

it leaves him just as speechless as you, you’re face wafting in the heat of your embarrassment and you cower when his smirk curls deviously done on you. Ari wants you to cry- God he wants to rip your heart out and bandage it up with his cock

“dumb babies like you get what daddy gives you. nothing else, now grind on daddy’s thigh princess,” his rough command makes you freeze, not even daring to breathe for a second.

wondering if he’s being serious, and it’s as if he could read the confusion buzzing in your head he decides to clear it up. the harsh and stinging spank awakes you from your overthinking session and you get to work. working to gain the same pleasurable friction you were enjoying moments ago.

your hands gripe the edge of his desk till your knuckles bulge out around your soft skin. rocking your hips against the roughness of his jeans, this time no panties are in the way as your slickness flows freely. lubricating your folds and soaking his thigh with your juices, it makes him chuckle when he feels your wetness soak through the fabric onto his thigh. you’re so pretty and obedient he could fuck your till you couldn’t think or stand.

“do you think you can finish your coloring page before you cum princess? show me how good you are at coloring.”

Ari’s artificially sweet remark makes you whimper, just as artificial as the cherry heart lollipop you were licking. not hesitating or wasting a minute, you quickly grab your coloring book and markers and get straight to work.

thankful you didn’t have to color much, one good thing leading you to this moment you could feel your orgasm nearing. the high peak that you’re getting closer and closer to, you want to jump off the cliff and dive into the waves of your pleasure. who knows what daddy would do if you didn’t finish your drawing on time, you needed to fucking cum.

you always got what you fucking wanted regardless what daddy thought, but maybe you spoke to soon-

“please princess, daddy knows you can grind harder on that. show me how much of a slut you are for daddy’s thigh,” you whimper at his command and obey immediately.

grinding harder against him, his teeth biting the soft bit of ear as his fingers roll your hard nipples. slightly wincing and deeply moaning, you can’t help but allow him to make you slip in that space of mindless obedience.

daddy always made you a moaning wet mess, always desperate for his approval and sweet honeyed praises. glassy eyes concentrating on your coloring sheet, it was becoming difficult to focus on coloring as you rocked your hips. trying desperately to withhold your orgasm but desperately trying to please daddy and grinding harder. hot tears springing in your eyes at the havoc situation, you let out a sob as your rock against Ari’s thigh.

Ari only but cooed at you, thumbing away your hot salty tears. “what a little crybaby,” he chuckles through a fake sympathetic smile. fisting his hard slippery cock in one hand as the other crept down to rub your little button. if anything Ari wants more now is for you to cry- it’s getting his cock harder and harder as the tears drip onto the coloring sheet.

“daddy I-I can’t color that fast!” that cry as his thick fingers advancing in their speed and pressure. stroking the puffiness of your folds before brushing against your drenched hole.

taking not a single ounce of regard to your wail, he responds only by pinching your pussy lips. causing you to cry out in sudden pain before he strokes your pussy to calm you. thick digits gathering up your arousal, your folds creating a lewd serenade in the golden tint of his office.

“you can’t color that fast? my stupid little princess doesn’t know how to color quick enough? to color a small stupid drawing before she can cum? huh, princess? answer me!”

there doesn’t need to be any tugging at your hair or harsh slap to your ass for you to quiver against him. Ari- your daddy has a magical way of making you submit with just the ease of his words but you don’t know how to answer him at all but to keep coloring. marshmallow tears streaming down your face like shooting stars, you continue to reach your high your daddy assists you on reaching but denies.

however Ari is noticing that you’re practically almost done coloring the picture, by the time you’re finished you’d probably cum and fufill his order. oh he couldn’t let that happen. his spoiled brat wasn’t gonna cum until he felt she deserved so, which wasn’t gonna be anytime soon if he could do anything about it.

quick hands slap down on your ass, causing the marker in your hand to scribble slightly over the lines. a gasp escaping your lips your bottom lip trembling at the sight and rushing figuring out how to fix it. scarlet heels clacking together, his hands stop tracing the lace of your socks at your ankles.

ravishing in your panicked state, he smirks into your hair. grabbing the lollipop he snatched from you earlier from the desk, taking it into his mouth with a satisfying pop! ignoring your offended and hurt whimpers as your daddy steals your reward away from you due to your clumsiness. it makes your vision blurry and your bottom lip tremble violently, head echoing in only one thought and one thought only-

daddy is so mean, daddy’s a big fat meanie.

your thoughts roar but you didn’t mean to say any of them aloud, you’re so caught up in the moment that you have no idea you did so because now your ass is getting spanked again and again and again and again. all until your peach flesh burns and Ari can see the indents of his fingers on that heart shaped ass he loves so much before bringing his hand back in your hair.

tugging it so your spine suddenly arches back so his lips brush your ear, a gasp escaping your mouth. “I can be meaner princess. you stop coloring and I won’t let you cum. do you understand that? stupid whore.”

the growl rolls off his lips and it just adds onto the sheet of sweats glistening off your skin. tears drop from your lashes as shaky, trembling hands grip the markers as you persist on finishing the coloring page. feeling your body is on fire, your sobbing cunt continues to rock against his loins and the pleasure is almost unbearable you whimper.

the smirk plastered on Ari’s face is sinful, his hands unbutton his shirt to leave his chest bare. golden pendant glistening in the light bulbs of his office. back muscles resting against the leather of his office chair, he strokes his throbbing cock. biting his bottom lip enjoying the naked sight of his desperate slut for a precious princess bouncing and rocking on his thigh.

arms bended calmly behind his head, biceps slightly flexing as he licks on the lollipop he took from you. humming from its sweet taste while imagining it’s the nipples of your tits, his tongue flicking over the heart shape- sucking sharply on it. savoring the sweet cherry taste as his hands graze up to gripe your bouncing tits. savoring in your heavy moans, stiff sniffles and stuttering sobs all on the account of him.

like taking candy from a baby, his baby.

Ari thinks as he watched your ass bounce, sweat glistening off your skin as your heeled feet shake. moving back in your high unaware matter, your ass unintentionally brushes roughly against his balls. causing you to gasp and your daddy to grunt, ordering you to do it again which you do.

suddenly the thought of fucking your other tight hole full of his white ropes of cum takes over his mind but he was enjoying you trying to find a release. “maybe if you color the picture really nice for daddy then daddy will let you cum,”

Ari spoke, his voice soft and tender like always despite the current moments of viscously degrading and name calling you. you’ve always craved this part of him but who knew it would hurt your heart so fucking good with each insult and slap to your heart shaped ass.

although the remark creates a hopeful glisten in your relieved eyes, posture relaxing a bit. you were certain you wouldn’t be able finish it on time but maybe if you focus on making it look pretty- regardless of a few white spaces- daddy would let you have your cummies. Ari would kiss you on your pretty lips and make you undone with the sweetest command.

oh how you craved it this moment it’s bringing more tears to your eyes.

“r-really daddy?” you stutter, imagining the tenseness of his thigh as his cock. squeezing it just right around your walls as your eyes glue on the coloring sheet. grinding your pussy harder onto his jean covered thigh that let’s all your high pitched and stuttering moans flow like honey, “you really mean it?”

a dark glint shines in Ari’s blue hues, taking the lollipop out of his mouth his hand rubs his shaft painfully slow. that thumb that has been teasing your button glides past his weeping tip, his burning blue glance shifting to you. until his hand reaches up, causing you to moan when he grabs a handful of your hair.

oh how he was going to tear his poor princess down after building her a sense of hope.

“no,”

[nightshade-minho]

-The Ritual-

-Incubus!Minho + BestFriend!Jeongin x fem!Reader-

Warnings: themes of jealousy, occults and demons, unprotected sex, minho has a huge cock, face fucking, sir kink, cunnilingus, 69, anal penetration, creampie, a little cumplay, a little overstimulation, a lil finger blood for ze ritual~ etc.

Word Count: 5.2k (I got a little carried away...this is the smuttiest thing I’ve written in a while hhhhhh-)

Disclaimer: This scene is entirely consensual. Minho’s powers do have the ability to make you incredibly aroused, but it can’t force you to do anything against your wishes. 

"Have you got everything?" You whispered, making the boy next to you jump in shock.

"Y/n! For God's sake, you scared the fuck out of me-"

"Yeah, yeah." You rolled your eyes at Jeongin, who went back to perusing the library shelf with a small huff. 

"Did you get everything?" You repeated insistently, following as Jeongin moved away from you, walking over to another shelf. He glared at you, sighing.

"Did you-"

"Shut up!" He scowled, looking away from you to grab another book from the shelf. 

A few seconds of prolonged silence passed as Jeongin turned to look at you, sighing when he saw your bottom lip quivering.

"I'm sorry." You mumbled.

"Y/n- no, it's okay. Next time, don't sneak up on me like that..." he sighed. "I've just got so much work on my plate. It's so frustrating...and I took that frustration out on you. Sorry."

You pressed your lips together, nodding and looking away. He sighed, moving a little closer, hand hovering over your shoulder before hesitantly coming down.

"I'll come over at 10, okay? We'll do this." He said, trying to feign enthusiasm. You shoved his hand off your shoulder, shaking your head. 

"I know you're not as into this as I am. I just thought...as my best friend, you'd want to do something fun with me. But if you'd much rather spend the night with your nose buried in a textbook, I won't stop you."

Jeongin smiled, that wide smile of his that affected you in a way you couldn't quite describe.

"Summoning a demon in your college dorm at midnight isn't exactly what the average individual would call fun, Y/N."

"You've always known I'm not the average individual." You winked. "Right...I'm going to let you study now. See you tonight! Don't forget-"

"Candles, rose petals and wine. Got it."

You grinned, waving as you walked away, a slight bounce in your step. Jeongin watched as you left, fondly shaking his head as he turned back to the shelf.

***

As the doorbell rang, you jumped off your bed and rushed to the door, opening it with a wide smile. "Jeonginnieee!~ Did you bring snacks?"

He nodded, struggling with the amount of packages he was holding. "Yes, along with the things for the ritual- shit, can I have some help here?"

You giggled, grabbing the plastic bag and one of the packages from his hand. You stared at the wine bottle in his hand pointedly.

"One of my friends got this for me. Don't ask who. It's a super cheap brand and I think it's half drunk already but-"

"It'll do." You interrupted, smiling as you suddenly pulled him down and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Jeongin's grip on the bottle tightened as his brain filled with sparks- the contact of your lips against his skin sending electricity shooting through his chest.

"You're the best best friend I could ask for. Thank you for getting everything."

Jeongin nodded nonchalantly, scratching his neck as he set the bottle and another package on the counter.

"Hey, the ritual needs to take place at midnight. We have like, 2 hours till then. Wanna watch a movie or something?"

"Why else do you think I brought snacks?" He laughed, opening the plastic bag and throwing a large packet of chips to you, that you caught with ease. Grabbing two cans of soda and a bag of candy, the two of you made your way to the couch. 

"Let's watch a horror movie? To get us in the spirit?"

"Sure." Jeongin commented, ripping open the packet as he sat on the floor and leaned against the couch. You smiled, popping a CD into the DVD player and crawling back over to Jeongin, cuddling close to him.

Jeongin gulped as you wrapped your arms around him. Your proximity was making him sweat, and he discreetly wiped away a drop of perspiration from his forehead. Over the years, you'd think that he would get used to your touchiness...but he just never did.

Nearly an hour later, you fell asleep halfway through the movie. Jeongin sighed, patting your hair as you slept, watching the rest of the horrid movie by himself. When a particularly silly scene came on screen, he wished you were awake so he could criticize it with you. His eyes drifted to the clock, eyes widening as he realized the time.

He poked your shoulder insistently. "Fuck, Y/n, get up...the ritual needs to take place soon, and we haven't set everything up yet-"

You blinked slowly, looking at him in confusion. "Hmm? Oh-"

You pushed him away, jumping up to your feet. "Shit, let's get the things ready, quick-" 

He sighed, standing up slowly as you ran to the packages on the counter, unwrapping everything. He watched as you jumped around in your hurry, chuckling to himself. 

Man, she's really into this.

Jeongin thought about it for a few seconds, sighing as he decided to show a little more enthusiasm...after all, you were his best friend...you always listened so patiently whenever he talked about his interests. 

He made up his mind. He'd put a little more effort into-

"What are you standing there for? Help!!"

He smiled at you, shaking his head, moving closer and helping you take out the things you needed.

***

Jeongin sat on your bed, watching as you tweaked some final touches here and there.

The silk had been laid out on the floor, all the lights were off. The room was illuminated in a warm, ochre glow, thanks to the numerous candles that had been lit and placed everywhere in the room. 

You made sure the rose petals were scattered properly, pouring just a little more wine into the single glass in the middle of the pentagram you'd made with the red yarn you'd found on sale in the crafts shop. 

Sitting up, you rubbed your forehead as you went over to the windowsill, relighting one of the candles that had snuffed out.

"15 minutes." Jeongin reminded as you nodded. "Okay...we're ready."

You sat down in front of the pentagram, breathing heavily in anticipation. Jeongin watched from his perch on your bed...He knew nothing out of the ordinary was going to happen tonight...unless a candle knocked over and set fire to the whole building. However, as he watched you bite your bottom lip in worry, he almost hoped you wouldn't be disappointed...that something out of the blue would happen.

Oh, if only he knew.

"So...say we do manage to summon a demon. Exactly how would this benefit us?"

"Good question." You pointed to the big book in front of you. You'd bought the huge tome from an occults shop down the block...it had been expensive, and you'd gone a few days without breakfast...but it was worth it.

You read out the paragraph to Jeongin, and he nodded, chewing on his lip as he listened. When you were done, he sighed, moving onto the floor next to you. 

"So, basically...like a genie? The demon will give us 3 wishes?"

"Eh. Genies don't exist. Also...they're not exactly wishes, more like...favours? I think? He'll ask us to repay them at a later date."

Jeongin rolled his eyes. "And nothing sounds fishy about that? Nothing? I'm not sure I want to be indebted to a demon..."

"Eh, it'll be fine. We've got to start. Okay, everything's ready...now, it says that the person who conducts the ritual needs to mix in a drop of their blood with the wine, and then drink it."

Jeongin wrinkled his nose. "Eww. Y/n, come on..." 

"What? It says it right here in on the book. It's just a tiny drop of blood, Jeongin. No big deal." 

"Are you sure...?"

"Yep. Okay so after that, we just need to chant this phrase three times, blow out the innermost circle of candles and voila! Our very own demon, here to do our bidding."

"F-fine."

You smiled at him, glancing up at the clock on the wall and swearing under your breath. "Fuck, it's time...Okay, let's begin." 

You scrambled around with one hand, finding the pocket knife and hovering it over your fingertip. Biting your lip, you slowly sliced your skin open, letting a tiny drop of blood fall into the wine glass below. Jeongin quickly got up, grabbing a box of band-aids from the bedside table and handing it to you. You glared at him for interrupting you, but sighed and let him wrap your finger up anyway.

Wrenching your hand away once he was done, you glanced at the clock once again before lifting the glass to your lips.

The wine flowed down your throat, the taste bitter and potent. You coughed once as you set it down, your eyes going over to the paragraph.

"Recipienti pignori obligo animam meam, et non sunt daemonium...et quod summoneret eum cum sanguine." 

You repeated it thirteen times, and then glanced at the clock again. One more second...

12:00.

You blew out the candles quickly, the entire circle snuffed out before it became 12:01.

You sat back, panting as the plumes of smoke danced around in the air. A minute passed by, then two.

Nothing happened.

A small sigh left you. You turned to Jeongin. The boy gave you a sympathetic smile, pulling you into his side and patting your shoulder. "It's o-"

He was interrupted by someone clearing their throat. The two of you turned around so fast you almost got whiplash...but there was nothing. Just smoke.

Wait...a lot of smoke. You frowned slowly as the candles kept releasing more and more of it, until there was far too much. The curlicues of smoke twirled in the air, fogging your vision as it slowly started forming into a figure. 

A figure with horns.

You quickly buried your face into Jeongin's chest, your heart beating fast. No way. No way it actually worked. This had to be a dream...right?

The way Jeongin shivered slightly beneath you proved otherwise. No. It all felt too real.

You looked up slowly, swallowing. 

He was still there.

A man...he was clad in a suit, his tie loosened, sleeves rolled up and shirt unbuttoned all the way to his torso. His black hair was slicked back, exposing his forehead, and his nose was sharp...

Perhaps the most notable of it all were his eyes. They were almost catlike and shone with a crimson glow. 

Oh...that and the horns. Huge, blood-red horns that jutted out from his head.

His gaze was filled with scrutiny as he coolly stood there with his hands in his pockets, raising an eyebrow at the two of you, cowering on the floor.

"Did the pretty one here summon me?" He asked after a few minutes of silence, a small smirk on his face as his eyes roved over the silk and rose petals on the floor.

You gulped, pulling away from Jeongin a little more, but the boy didn't relax his grip on you. "Y-yes."

He nodded. "Thought so. I was actually extremely busy...but I could sense you were a cute one. I don't mind bending the rules a little for mortals like you." You noticed how he was only looking at you, completely ignoring Jeongin.

He looked around, going over to the armchair next to your bed and reclining on it, his stance reminiscent of a king's as he placed his chin on his hand, looking down at the two of you.

"Hmm, go on with it then. Why are you still fully clothed?" He asked, hand coming down over the straining bulge in his pants. 

Jeongin frowned, looking over at you in confusion that mirrored yours. What the fuck?

"I'm s-sorry? I thought...it doesn't mention that I have to be naked in the book here-"

He rolled his eyes, still palming himself. "Whatever. If you prefer being clothed, that's fine. Let's just get this over with, okay doll? Come here." 

"I'm c-confused-"

He tilted his head. "Why? You want your wishes granted, right?"

"Yeah-"

"Exactly. There are certain things I require as payment for those, you know." He meaningfully looked down at his bulge, and then back up at you again.

Your eyes slowly widened in outrage. "Wait...what the fuck??" Jeongin's mouth slowly opened in disbelief as you shook your head vehemently. "No. Nope. No way. I'm not going to let a demon fuck m-'

He shook his head, chuckling. "Darling, how else would an incubus such as myself grant your wish?"

"Pardon!?"

"We draw our powers from sexual energy-"

"I never-" You looked back at the book, scanning the paragraph over and over again. "I- it says nothing here about incubuses-"

"Incubi. And of course it doesn't. It's common knowledge that all wish-granting demons are incubi."

Jeongin shook his head, deciding he'd heard enough. He worked up his courage, trying to pretend like he wasn't intimidated by the actual demon that was in his best friend's bedroom.

"Look here, Sir- you can't just have sex with her. We must have missed the part where it said you were an...an incubus. Just go back where you came from."

The demon frowned slowly, his eyes finally landing on Jeongin. There was a questioning look in his eyes.

"Oh. I hadn't noticed the boy here." He sniffed the air, shaking his head. "His blood isn't involved in the ritual...must be why I couldn't see him properly till now." He mused, almost to himself as you looked at Jeongin, the two of you sharing a look filled with fear and bafflement. 

"It doesn't work that way, unfortunately, boy. I came here...and sadly, I cannot leave Earth until my purpose is satisfied and 3 boons are granted."

You shivered, wondering what the hell you had gotten into. The demon noticed your discomfort and sighed, inspecting his fingernails. 

"Look. I don't care if you have sex with me or not, although it wouldn't hurt to have my way with a pretty little kitten like you. All I need is sexual energy, so just fuck your friend here. I don't care."

It took a minute for the two of you to process what he had just said. He felt embarrassment fill him from head to toe as he buried his head in his hands, unable to look you in the eye.

However...you were starting to feel something quite different. The air was heavy and thick with a scent that was melting your inhibitions away, one by one. You felt arousal grow in your core, amplifying to the point where you let out a soft whimper, unable to control yourself anymore. 

You looked up slowly, gulping as you noticed the demon's eyes on you. He was smirking, a malicious one that was trained on you. His aura was driving itself into your brain, making you weaker and weaker in his presence.

"What...what are you doing to m-me?" You choked out, trailing off into a moan as you felt another sharp burst of pleasure.

"Hm? I'm not doing anything, little kitty. I'm just here, existing."

You felt your brain grow mushy as your neediness grew. 

He was an incubus, and you were chained to him with a blood link, thanks to the ritual. His pure sexual energy was merely too much for your human brain, and as the seconds passed by, you were closer to giving up.

Jeongin watched with horror in his eyes as you closed your eyes tightly, trying not to breathe in the contaminated air. However, as you felt another ribbon of ecstatic pleasure shoot through you, you finally snapped.

Whimpering like a bitch in heat, you crawled across the floor as the demon spread his thighs to accommodate you. He smirked at your needy form that looked up at him with wide, blown-out eyes, on your knees.

"Good girl." He ruffled your hair, chuckling as you ate up the praise, scrambling to unzip his pants. You managed to take his cock out finally, after a few minutes of fumbling.

He was big. Too big. His cock was redder than a human's, and almost angry looking.

Mouth-watering.

"What are you waiting for? Cat got your tongue?" He cooed, grabbing a handful of your hair as he held his cock with his other hand. 

You moaned, opening your mouth and staring up at him. He groaned, the innocence on your face entrancing him as he shoved you onto his length, your tiny mouth engulfed with his huge cock.

Spluttering, you felt tears spring to your eyes as he slid impossibly far down your throat. He groaned and threw his head back. The sight of you with your mouth stuffed full, your throat bulging with his cock...it was threatening to drive him insane.

Meanwhile, Jeongin could hardly believe what he was witnessing. He was frozen in place, unable to move even an inch as the shock filled every inch of his brain. The demon looked up at him, his grip on your hair relentless as he slowly started fucking your throat, so deep you could barely breathe.

"Like what you see, boy? Your girl's little throat mercilessly fucked by a demon? Tsk. How spineless." 

Jeongin felt the slightest bit of anger rush into him. Somehow, the demon's presence was amplifying his feelings, making him even angrier as he continued using your throat as a fucktoy. 

"S-stop."

"Hm? Why should I?" He paused, pulling you off his cock roughly, your mouth dripping with saliva and pre-cum. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No, Sir. Please, please use me!" You begged, eagerly moving forward to take him into your mouth again. 

The demon looked back up at Jeongin, evil grin reappearing. 

Jeongin clenched his fists, hating how weak he felt. The sight of you on your knees, sucking off this, this impossibly hot demonic man, was putting a bad taste in his mouth. 

"Sir, just...you have to, stop-"

The demon wrinkled his lips, shaking his head. "My name is Minho, boy. I don't own you, so I don't expect you to treat me with respect...although you will, if you know what's good for you." He tutted, looking down at you again and holding you down on him harshly, your nose pressed to his skin.

"This kitten here does, though. The little ritual she did binds her to me for life."

"You can't- you can't just do that. You can't just take ownership of someone against their will-"

"It's not against her will. She's the one who carried out the ritual, may I remind you. I'm not forcing her to do anything." He lifted a finger in the air lazily, and somehow you found your body changing position, hands slipping off his lap and settling on the floor. Now you were on all fours, lips still wrapped around him as he bucked his hips up.

"The air stinks of jealousy. May I remind you that Envy is one of the deadly sins, little boy?" 

Jeongin didn't know what to say any more. He felt utterly helpless, out of place. His feelings were all muddled, and he didn't feel like himself. Sweat was gathering on his brow as Minho eased his grip on your hair, slowing down a little and letting you control the pace. He lifted his finger again, waving it in a tight circle...The energy in the room shifted even more as your skirt slowly lifted up, exposing your ass to Jeongin's eyes.

It was becoming harder to hide the straining bulge in his pants. 

You whined softly as Minho pulled out of you, fingers holding your chin as he observed your wrecked face carefully. "What a good kitten. Now, I think this little boyfriend of yours is enjoying the show too much." Minho looked up, his gaze directed at Jeongin's bulge.

"Wouldn't it be mean to make him watch and leave him out of this, kitty?" He asked, mock sympathy on his face as he waved his finger again, making your panties and shirt disappear in less than a millisecond.

You let out a soft yelp, feeling slightly humiliated. It turned you on more, as you realized you were now completely naked except for your skirt and socks. "Yeah, Sir, whatever you say." You let out a sigh and rested your chin on his thigh. "Want Jeonginnie to join too~" you mumbled.

Jeongin gulped, hating the way even more blood rushed south at the sight of you half-naked and on all fours. Now, he had a clear view of your glistening pussy as well as your puckered rim. He licked his lips subtly, all his emotions conflicted as he found himself moving closer. 

"Y/n...you really want this?" He asked softly, stopping a few centimetres away.

You turned around to look at him. "Yeah...please..." You pouted. The expression on your face was so needy that Jeongin couldn't help but cave. Besides, now that he was closer to Minho, the aura he was emitting was starting to affect him as well. And that meant he could feel his arousal grow at a fast rate, his cock painfully caged in his pants.

Minho leaned down a little to pick you off the floor. His suit jacket and shirt disappeared, leaving him shirtless as he settled you on his lap, facing Jeongin as he spread your legs.

Hands on your waist, Minho nosed at the back of your neck as he lined your entrance up with his tip. Your eyes were focused on Jeongin, senses clogged with ardor as Minho slowly lowered you onto his cock. The wetness gushing out of you made it a little easier for him to slip in, however his size was still stretching you out to the point where it was borderline painful. 

You felt the tears flow down your face freely, as Minho finally managed to push the last few inches in, his entire girth sheathed in you. He was as thick as he was long, and your pussy accommodated him desperately, aching.

He grunted, wrapping his arms around your waist. "Too fuck- fucking tight, princess-" He groaned, starting to fuck you on his cock slowly, his strokes roughly trying to open up your pussy.

Jeongin couldn't remember exactly when he'd taken his cock out...but his hands were wrapped around it, stroking slowly as his hooded eyes watched you bounce on the demon's cock. Minho used one hand to gather your skirt up, exposing the spot where you two were connected to Jeongin.

Jealousy, arousal, fear, shock and anger...it all melted together in his brain as he let his dark side take over, slowly. He knew it was because he was in close quarters with an incubus- the raw sexual energy was too much for his human brain to process healthily...it still felt so wrong.

"You want to fuck her, don't you? What are you standing there for, then?" Minho groaned, as he continued plunging his cock into you.

You whined loudly as Minho's tip hit your sweet spot roughly. "Jeongin- want jeong-" You tripped over your words as Minho fucked you dumb.

"P-please, Jeonginnieeee~ Want you in me!" You begged, one arm reaching behind you to wrap around Minho's neck as his hands came up to cup your boobs.

Minho looked up from kissing your neck, red eyes trained on the boy. "You heard her."

He sure did. As the last shred of apprehension faded away, Jeongin couldn't bring himself to care any more. In a few long strides, he was right in front of you.

He let go of you, as Jeongin pulled you downward, so that your face was level with his cock. Minho's grip on your hips was tight, making sure you didn't fall as you tried to steady yourself by placing your hands on Jeongin's thighs.

His thumb swiped across your bottom lip as he stared at you with hungry eyes, before he slipped it in. You started sucking on it eagerly, making the boy above you chuckle. 

He pulled his thumb out, prompting a whine from you- but quickly, it was replaced with the head of his cock as he pressed it against your parted lips, taking him in.

Jeongin's cock, despite being much smaller than Minho's, was above average for a human, and it still filled up your mouth deliciously. You felt him dive deep into your throat as he tangled both of his hands in your hair, using that as leverage to fuck into your mouth harder. 

"Good boy..."

"Don't call me that." Jeongin spat, his anger building up. He took out his frustration on you, fucking your mouth harsher than Minho had. The combination of two cocks in you turned you on more than ever, and soon enough, you came as you blubbered incoherencies, clenching tightly around Minho.

A few thrusts later, Jeongin felt his high approach. Not wanting to cum yet, he pulled out quickly. You looked up at him, looking so fucked out, absolutely heavenly. How ironic.

He needed you. He'd never felt any emotion this intense before. Gritting his teeth, Jeongin pulled you off Minho, throwing you onto the bed with a grunt. You stared up at him in shock, looking to the right at Minho. 

The demon let out a low chuckle, settling himself comfortably in his chair as he propped his chin up with one hand, the other jerking himself off.

Jeongin couldn't look at you. He avoided eye contact, knowing he'd go completely insane if he looked at you.

Roughly spreading your thighs, he leaned down to take your clit between his teeth. You let out a moan, throwing your head back as he shoved his tongue between your folds, groaning at the taste. He kissed and sucked all over your pussy, heart beating a little too fast. His fingers came up to rub at your clit as he shallowly fucked his tongue into your entrance.

Minho slowly stood up, tired of standing to the side. Gently, he shoved Jeongin to the side. The latter growled in frustration, but stopped as Minho lay down on the bed. You quickly understood, his power influencing you to comprehend what he wanted you to do.

You climbed onto Minho backwards, his cock in front of your face. You kissed up his length immediately, lips wrapping around his tip as you felt him grab your ass, pulling you so your pussy made contact with his tongue. 

He pulled away for a second. "Go ahead and fuck her ass, it's a lot tighter than her pussy." He said, knowing how roughly he'd fucked you just a while ago.

Jeongin couldn't care less. He just wanted to be in you, as quick as possible. As he led his cock to your ass, he gulped. This was not how he'd expected the night to go. 

He spat on your winking pucker, pushing in shortly after. You were so consumed with passion that it barely hurt, even when he started thrusting roughly. The pleasure set you ablaze, the combination of Minho's lips wrapped around your clit and Jeongin's dick deep inside your ass tantalizingly unreal. You couldn't think straight. 

Minho put his hands under you, spreading your ass cheeks, making Jeongin groan. You felt his tongue making its way into your pussy, making you moan around his cock. 

The room was filled with sounds of skin slapping skin, as well as the groans of the two men fucking you.

Jeongin had imagined having sex with you before. This was definitely not how he'd ever expected it to go. He'd thought of asking you out, taking you on dates, kissing your face and lips softly...yet here he was now, fucking your ass demonically. 

You purred as you felt his cock twitch inside you, starting to suck on Minho's cock harder. He tasted so different, almost addicting. You were driven with an intense need to taste his cum, kitten-licking his slit to try and get him to orgasm. 

You whined as Minho used his grip on your ass to drag your pussy over his mouth. The sound was so beautiful, driving Jeongin closer to his high. Before he knew it, he was fucking into you faster than before, intent on filling you up. In seconds, he came with a grunt, filling you up perfectly with his seed.

As he came down from his high, he regained some of his sensibility. He felt self-loathing fill him, hating what he'd just done. 

Jeongin watched as Minho ate you out roughly, his grip so tight on your ass that it was sure to leave future bruises.

As the demon sucked on your clit, you felt yourself shake, whimpering around his length as another orgasm washed over you, clenching around Jeongin's cock that was still inside you. The overstimulation made him bite his lip and pull out, watching as a drop of his cum leaked out of you. Using his finger, he gathered it up and pushed it back into your hole gently. 

Your continuous moans were sending vibrations down Minho's length, and soon he was fucking up into your mouth, chasing his high. He came after a particularly rough thrust, filling up your mouth with so much cum that it leaked out of the corners of your mouth.

Jeongin sat back as Minho pushed you off of him slowly, propping you up on the bed. Weakly, you closed your eyes, collapsing against the pillow. All the strength had been zapped out of you, and you fell asleep quickly.

Minho noticed Jeongin's worried expression, chuckling. "She just got fucked by a demon and her best friend. She'll be okay after some rest." He said, running a hand through his sweaty hair.

"I...don't like this. She's never going to look at me the same way ever again. I've failed her as a best friend-"

"Woah, stop right there. She wanted it. She was practically begging for you."

"Well our friendship's never going to be the same after this, and I blame you." He said, glaring at the demon, who put up his hands in defense. 

"Look. You two summoned me, I came, I did my job." 

Minho lazily leaned back next to you, as you slumped, resting your head in his lap as you snored. He chuckled, and stroked your hair as if you were a cat.

"I could get used to living here." 

"What?!"

"Once I'm on Earth, I can't leave until I've satisfied my client's wishes. And I can tell the two of you are going to be...hard to satisfy. I'm going to be here for a while." He smirked. 

Jeongin tried not to let the jealousy show on his face. He hated the idea.

"You're in love with her...aren't you?"

Jeongin's eyes widened as he stared up at the demon whose eyes had softened. 

"I see the way you look at her. How protective you were of her." He sighed. "I'm a sex demon...love isn't my specialty. But...I know a few things about passion. You can't give up."

"That's easy for you to say." Jeongin groaned. Here he was, taking advice from a hellsent demon. What had his life come to?

"Anyway, I'll be spending a lot of time around here, so you'd better get used to this, boy."

"Jeongin." He looked up. "That's my name." 

Minho grinned. "I'll keep that in mind."

He sighed, looking at you as you exhaled in your sleep, heart clenching with fondness. He couldn't believe the situation you'd gotten the both of them into...but somewhere deep down inside, he didn't regret anything that had happened.

Sometimes, being the responsible, mature one in your friendship was a challenging job..but he wouldn't trade it for the world.

[dreamonhunters]

YOU DON’T KNOW HOW TO LET GO

trigger warnings // medical procedures, blood & injury, alcohol mentions

my first @badthingshappenbingo​ fic!! hurt/comfort georgenap for the masses...you’re welcome

read it here on ao3 !

“You’re getting blood on my carpet,” George complains, but Sapnap doesn’t respond.

By now, this is standard procedure. Sapnap runs until there’s a bullet in his shoulder or a knife in his gut and by dusk he’s on George’s doorstep. There’s one reason for this. George is the man who can piece him back together and let him leave the next day pretending they never spoke. Rinse and repeat. It’s a fucked up little system they have, but it's enough.

(Besides, it’s not like Sapnap trusts anybody else with George’s level of medical proficiency to come within ten feet of him with a needle and thread.)

“‘m not,” Sapnap mutters, and George ignores him.

Crimson liquid runs down his face in rivulets from a jagged gash on his cheek, thin t-shirt clinging to the contours of his body. A fine sheen of sweat coats his skin. Sapnap can try to play it off as nothing all he likes, and George will gaze right through him.

“Come on,” he sighs, inspecting the sorry state of the man before him. Sapnap grumbles something under his breath. Probably cursing his name, knowing Sapnap, because there’s nothing he despises more than being turned into a charity case.

Maybe this is how things would’ve ended for George. Escaped in the nick of time, Dream always tells him, as George wraps thick bandages around his best friend’s bullet wounds. Right before he got in too deep, past the point of no return. You can only run from dead bodies and stolen identities for so long before they return to haunt you. Not like the skeletons in George’s closet don’t keep him up for endless nights, tossing and turning and staring at a ceiling he swears is painted with blood.

When he was eighteen and starting his first year at med school, George hadn’t expected much. A degree, a stable job at some local medical centre, maybe even a nice family to come home to every night. His idle daydreams quickly morph into blood covering his hands and desperately working to stitch up a gaping wound that’s bleeding far too fast.

Maybe those first three years of medical school were his greatest downfall. Too many people know his name now, too many to ever let him disappear off the radar without a word. Instead he lives in purgatory forever, eternally guilty by association.

He doesn’t charge Sapnap. It’s not like the man has much to begin with. Taking money from the guy seems needlessly cruel. Dream pays him enough to get by, even if it means living the shittest downtown apartment money can buy and living on microwaveable meals from the discount aisle.

They don't talk much about their pasts. George will never ask how Sapnap ended up like this, and in turn Sapnap will never tell. There’s no sense in trying to intrude where he isn’t welcome. A silent offer will always stand, of an ear to listen should Sapnap ever want it. He doesn’t. That’s fine.

Blood pools at Sapnap’s feet, seeping into the cream coloured carpet. That’ll be a bastard to clean, George notes idly. One arm loops around Sapnap’s waist, shoulder under his armpit, and George guides him to the bathroom. Bloodstained tiles are far easier to deal with, he decides.

A pained grunt escapes Sapnap as he collapses onto the toilet seat, but not before he’s caught a glimpse of himself in the cracked mirror and examined the damage through narrowed eyes. If he's still conscious at this point, George knows he’ll be fine, and it’s a simple matter of stitching him back together again. They’ve been here a thousand times before.

George moves on autopilot. An extensive medical kit is tucked into the back corner of his bathroom cabinet, an assortment of bottles and jars and boxes hiding it from plain view. George retrieves the plastic box with practised ease, rounded edges pressing into the delicate skin of his palms.

“What happened?” George asks, tiredness flooding his voice. Holds his hand out expectantly to Sapnap, waiting until he can feel the cold metallic bite of a switchblade resting there. The blade cuts through the cheap polyester of Sapnap’s shirt, the bloodied fabric falling to the ground beside him. The man inhales sharply at the sudden coldness, the fine hairs on his arms standing up straight.

“Nothin’,” Sapnap mutters, chocolate-coloured gaze fixed firmly on the tiles. Blood runs into the grout, staining it a murky red-brown.

George waits.

“Just some stupid fuckin’ gang kids.”

“You don’t have to fight everyone you ever meet,” George says matter-of-factly, inspecting the extent of Sapnap’s injuries. The worst of it seems to be a deep laceration in his torso, thank God. Everything else is superficial, by the looks of it.

“I don’t,” the man grumbles, a blatant lie. Otherwise he wouldn't be here  bleeding out on George’s bathroom floor every other week. Sometimes George considers having him schedule a regular appointment. “They woulda' killed me.”

Getting into an argument with Sapnap is futile, especially when he’s in such a foul mood. The man packs a solid punch, one that George has been on the receiving end of a good few times over the years. And so the Brit works in silence, wiping away dried blood with a soft cloth soaked in isopropyl alcohol. He’s used to the sting on antiseptics and the occasional hiss escaping whenever George runs over a deeper cut.

“Ow, fuck off,” Sapnap finally snaps, when George presses down a little too hard beside one of his wounds.

“I need to stitch this up,” George continues on, entirely ignoring Sapnap’s complaints. It’s far too deep to simply bandage up and forget about, as much as he's certain Sapnap would love him to.

George rocks back onto his haunches, digging through his medical kit once again. He’s prepared for a damn apocalypse, Sapnap had once commented. That’s probably true, George considers, when he glances down at the heavy box in front of him. It's practically brimming with thick bandages and foil packets of pills. Dream has powerful contacts, ones who can get George all the medical-grade supplies he could ever desire. Of course the man will take advantage of anything he can get his hands on.

It would appear he’s better prepared for an apocalypse where nobody gets seriously injured.

“I don’t have any lidocaine,” George mutters, more to himself than Sapnap. It’s not like he doesn’t know what that means - a whiskey-soaked rag between his teeth to bite down on when the pain gets too much, the burn of alcohol a pitiful distraction from the flaring agony in his side.

Sapnap groans, glaring daggers down at his friend. “You better be fuckin’ joking. How the fuck do you run out of lidocaine?” he snaps. George knows it’s the pain overwhelming his senses, turning him nasty - Sapnap can be quite the sweetheart when he wants to be. After all, nobody is forcing George to help him.

George doesn’t bother trying to respond. No response will be satisfactory, and quite honestly George can sympathise with him. There’s no joy in stitching somebody up while they writhe in agony beneath his hands, biting back their screams with a sodden cloth. Instead he pushes to his feet, brushing off his jeans, and offers Sapnap a weak smile.

“I’ll be back,” he promises, despite how pointless it is. Sapnap grunts unintelligibly in response.

George has never been a heavy drinker, despite the few bottles that line the back of a kitchen cabinet. Only a small collection of cheap spirits, but the lack of any mixers says a lot about their use.

He buys budget vodka, the type that tastes like a toxic cocktail of drain cleaner and nail polish remover. Dream likes it, shockingly. Only when it’s past midnight, after a job gone horrifically wrong, and the pair are sat under the flickering yellow light of his kitchen at an empty dining table. Dream spills his guts between swigs of poison while George nods sympathetically. His friend can drink it straight from the bottle without so much as a wince.

At least it saves on painkillers.

It’s also a natural antiseptic, if you’re desperate enough. George would know. He’s tried every last alternative to traditional medical supplies. The bottle clinks against others as he carefully manoeuvres it out of the cupboard, placing it on the floor beside him. Sapnap won’t want it - says he despises the taste of vodka, reminds him of a childhood he’s spent half his life running from.

A half empty bottle of whiskey stands in the right corner of his cabinet, obscured by the vodka moments ago. A thin layer of dust coats the glass. The honeyed liquid swishes as he pulls it out, the vodka replacing it. Sapnap’s personal preference. At least cheap whiskey doesn’t taste so foul.

He closes the cabinet with a soft click and gets to his feet.

Sapnap hasn’t moved, the blue light from his phone screen washing out his lightly tanned complexion. He stares blankly down at the device, not bothering to acknowledge George’s arrival. The pair don't speak until George snags a cloth from the box and uncaps the whiskey.

“You’re twenty this year,” George states, pouring whiskey on the fabric. It comes out too fast, soaking his hands and dripping all over the tiles.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t you wanna get your shit together by then?” he presses, handing Sapnap the dripping cloth. The man chooses not to answer.

George doesn’t press any further, instead busying himself with preparations. A pair of latex gloves cover his hands, fine suturing needles and a small pair of scissors are laid out on a sheet of thin plastic. His fingers are quick and nimble and he handles his tools with a  mesmerising ease.

“There’s more to life than this,” George comments after a short silence. Sapnap sits up straight as George approaches, stuffing the rag into his mouth and biting down hard. Metal pierces through skin, Sapnap howls through the fabric, and from there everything becomes a blur.

Throughout his fleeting time at medical school George’s professors had praised him for neat work. Dream pays him for the exact same thing. He loses himself in his work, hyperfocusing on the task at hand until it’s perfect. In those moments the external world simply does not exist and there is nothing but the flutter of his pulse and the uneven breathing of his patient beneath him.

Normally, Sapnap barely makes a sound when George stitches him up. Doesn’t even flinch. Makes George’s work a thousand times easier. There’s always a few colourful curses, of course, but that’s just part of the job.

This time is far different. Sapnap writhes beneath him, making it exceptionally difficult to tug together his raw, bloodstained flesh. George mutters to himself under his breath, reminding himself how to deal with this. It’s fine - he’s had jumpy patients before, and this is no different. Sapnap’s groans are stifled by the rag in his mouth, the alcohol burn offering little distraction from the white hot pain lancing through his torso.

Even though he cleaned the wound hardly twenty minutes ago, fresh blood makes the skin slippery. George’s work is messy, far from his usual standard of neat stitching, barely traceable unless you specifically search for the little metallic thread fusing skin back together. Sapnap is trembling. Tears run down the man’s face, dripping off his chin and onto George’s bloody hands.

Oh, the guilt. It’s not easy being the only medic in the city who didn’t buy their degree from some shady underground dealer in the backroom of a seedy downtown club. He doesn’t even have a degree. No, he has three years of medical training, approximately double what any other “field medic” he's seen around has. And yet he’s nowhere near even half qualified, thrown in over his head to save the lives of teenagers who can’t keep themselves out of trouble longer than a week and men who know nothing but a life of illegal warfare.

He may be helping Sapnap, sure. But the tear tracks that stain his face make it hard to believe that the work he does is any good. All it does is allow Sapnap to go another day. To get himself stabbed in a different place on a different day at a different time, and George is perfectly complicit in pretending he’s some saving grace for broken teens who want to play at being big boys.

George isn’t saving anyone.

Flashes of silver catch in the cool artificial lighting, buried neatly in tanned flesh. George rocks back onto his haunches, examines his work, and nods. His eyes are slightly red, wet with tears that were never his to cry.

“Let me bandage it,” he says quickly, before Sapnap has time to think of a snarky remark. It’s more protection than to stem any bleeding. Tomorrow morning, before the sun has even broken the horizon, Sapnap will be right back on the same streets that leave him a bloodied, broken mess at George’s feet. It’s like some kind of sick addiction.

“You’re so fuckin’ fussy,” Sapnap chides, but there’s no heat in his voice. Just exhaustion, plain and simple, with which George can sympathise. He doesn’t question the puffiness of George’s eyes. Doesn’t intrude where he knows he’s not welcome. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not chancing it,” George replies firmly. He’s already pulling a roll of gauzy bandages from the box, medical tape in his other hand. “You’ll pull them out, or sleep weird, or do something. I know what you’re like. Sapnap.”

Sapnap huffs irritably but he doesn’t argue any further. His back hits the cool tiled wall, and he retrieves his phone from beside him. He swipes his sleeve across his face roughly the moment George looks away. Thinks George won’t notice.

George is simply going through the motions. Shaking fingers wrap flimsy bandages around Sapnap’s torso, microporous tape holding the material in lace. It’s a distraction from his rapidly spiralling thoughts, to busy his hands with work he understands rather than leave himself alone with thoughts he doesn’t want to comprehend.

“Can I stay?” Sapnap asks, as George snips the last of the tape and smoothes it down against tanned skin. The sun is setting outside, orange and pink streaking the sky through the distorted bathroom window. Rarely does Sapnap ask the question - he waits for an invitation he can begrudgingly accept, muttering something about not needing charity handouts. George tends to tune that part out.

It takes George a moment to process the question, and even longer to take in the look in Sapnap’s eyes. It isn’t fear. Sapnap isn’t capable of fear, or so he likes to claim. Maybe something akin to anxiety. He’s seen that look before, reflected back at him in a grimy little mirror. George leans back, mismatched eyes meeting deep brown, and he nods silently. He isn’t quite sure he can form words without his entire life story spilling out, every anxiety and late night terror pouring from his lips and staining the already bloodied tiles. He’s trembling.

George packs his things away without a word, clearly finished. There is nothing more to say, and Sapnap does not push to make meaningless small talk.

Sapnap gets to his feet, a quiet hiss of pain escaping him as he jostles sore injuries. George doesn’t bother to acknowledge the man’s exit. He knows where to go - there’s a spare room at the end of the hallway to the left of George’s own bedroom. It’s one of those rooms that’s rarely ever empty, considering the volume of patients and friends that pass through George’s household on a near daily basis. Drawers are filled with random articles of clothing, varied in size, left by the room’s previous inhabitants and sometimes collected from charity shops by George. He likes to be prepared.

Two hours pass. George moves to the kitchen. Rummages through his freezer for the most appetising pre-packaged meal he owns. Maybe he’ll treat himself to heating it up in the oven, rather than blast it through the microwave for twenty minutes and try to ignore the vaguely plastic taste that ruins the whole idea of lasagna. He does have a guest, after all, and he uses the excuse of a stressful day to validate his feelings.

He doesn’t hear from Sapnap until he’s seated at the dining table, chin resting in one palm. His oven buzzes in the background, dim yellow light barely visible behind the blackened grease baked on to the glass door.

“Hey,” Sapnap’s voice cuts through his reverie, startling George. He jumps, turns, shoots the man an apologetic smile.

“Hey.”

Sapnap is wearing different clothes now - a soft. pale blue t-shirt, two sizes too big, and a pair of sweatpants George doesn’t remember buying. The blood is gone, the cut on his cheek nothing more than a scabby memory, and George can pretend that the outline of bandages beneath the thin fabric is something much more innocent.

“Are you hungry?” George asks, as though he hadn’t had the foresight to cook two meals.

“Yeah, yeah… You sure ya' don’t mind me staying?”

There’s concern in Sapnap’s eyes. His voice holds an unfamiliar weight, a genuineness that George sees far too little of. The pity Sapnap offers him makes George’s stomach twist, nauseatingly bitter and somehow filled with strange gratitude.

“It’s fine,” he answers, tongue thick in his mouth. “It’s carbonara. I hope that’s alright.”

“Yeah. Thanks, George.”

It will be. Sapnap isn’t picky - he’ll eat just about anything George places in front of him. Hell, it’ll probably be the best meal he eats all week. He takes a seat across from George, leans back in his chair so the front legs swing off the ground, and hums. Always hums the same little tune, one George never recognises.

“You’re twenty this year,” George repeats. It sounds like he’s trying to convince himself of that fact, like he doesn’t quite believe it.

“Yeah,” Sapnap replies. “What about it?”

George lets out a soft sigh through his nose, fingers intertwined on the table. “Don't you want out?”

Sapnap frowns. “Uh, whaddya mean? Out?”

“Out of this. Do something with your life.”

It’s what George craves. Release, complete release, from his life of bullet wounds and bloodshed and constantly glancing over his shoulder. A life that slipped through his fingers before he quite realised what was happening, and now it’s nothing more than a fever dream. Maybe he can live vicariously through Sapnap, instead. That would be enough.

“I dunno,” Sapnap replies, the slightest hint of confusion lacing his tone. “Never really thought about it.”

“You should,” George says. There’s an edge to his voice, one of exhaustion and desperation. “While you still have time. I can help you.”

“I dropped outta' high school. Not like I can go anywhere without a diploma,” he points out bitterly.

George shakes his head, pushing away from the table to check on the floor. His chair scrapes harshly against the scratched wooden floor. “I can help you get your equivalency. There are options, Sapnap, and I know people with money.”

Sapnap scoffs, wordlessly. There’s no response to that, clearly, and George pities him. The man thinks there’s nothing more for him, no hope of a normal future. Whatever that means.

“Aren’t you tired?”

This is the most George has ever pushed. He toes a fine line between courtesy and concern, always too apprehensive to risk crossing it. Sapnap doesn’t say anything more than he needs to, and yet George finds himself craving more. To know the man, properly, to understand him.

“Yeah.”

The words are heavy and bitter, like a lead weight on Sapnap’s shoulders. Silently, George understands, but he cannot voice his thoughts. There are no words to describe that kind of burden.

“I can help you,” George repeats, voice hushed. It’s almost reverent, like the words he speaks are sacred and holy. He pleads for his freedom through Sapnap, a redemption that will never be his own. “I know people who can get you out. Please, Sapnap.”

Sapnap is silent. The hum of his oven fills the silence with white noise.

A heavy sigh. “I’ll think about it,” he relents.

They eat in silence. George cannot push Sapnap any further, not without striking a chord within himself that will regurgitate too many painful memories. Sapnap doesn’t have anything to say. The silence isn’t uncomfortable. A little tense, maybe, but hardly unbearable. Sapnap is standing before George has finished rinsing the little plastic containers their food came in.

“I'll think about it,” he repeats. There’s sadness in his eyes.

“Thank you,” George smiles, genuine.

Sapnap leaves without another word, and George hears the faint click of a door closing. That’s the last he hears of Sapnap for the rest of the evening.

He doesn’t sleep well that night. George’s mind races, but not with the same anxiety that normally occupies his sleepless nights. No, this is a new worry - how to save Sapnap from getting himself in too deep. There are a thousand different scenarios he can play out on his mind, different faces and voices occupying the early hours of the morning.

Why he’s so invested in the man is an entirely different scenario he can unpack at another time. Or never, if he’s being really honest with himself. He’s simply doing what's right, George tells himself, looking out for another person in a vulnerable position. That is as deep as it runs.

George is lying, and when he finally drifts into a dreamless sleep, his last thought is of himself, at the same age as Sapnap, with blood across his face and a knife in his hands. Waiting for a salvation that never came.

[elladescent449-artspace]

It started with the milk: Chapter 2 - Breakfast and a brawl

Breakfast and a Brawl

Leo awoke to the violent clatter of pots and pans. Despite the stiffness, the sleep was still there with him, desperately trying to drag him back into a dream that he couldn’t remember. When another bang sounded, he turned over with a groan and covered his head with his sheets. The movement triggered a soreness in his shoulders, and he very suddenly became aware of the growing crick in his neck. With another quiet growl he turned over again, trying to alleviate some of the unwelcome aches and pains. He stilled, focussing on the warmth of his sheets and the sound of his own breathing. It was still raining. Aside from the noise from the kitchen he could still hear the blurred whir of New York’s spring rainfall.  Leo heard a quiet boom of thunder and he remembered those quiet noises from the night before, although they were definitely more of a distant hush now that the morning was here. With the adjustment of his body and the warmth of his sheets, Leo began drifting off again. It was slow and comfortably heavy as he sank back into a sleep-like state, he felt warm and comfortable, and he slowly began to forget that he was ever awake in the first place.

Leo twitched at the combination of a heavy slam accompanied by a shout. It ripped him into a sitting position and he groaned, forcing himself out of bed and taking his blanket with him.

--

Mikey was already dressed for the day, and by dressed, Leo meant that he was out of pyjamas and wearing his favorite belt. Mikey’s phone was leaning on the cereal box and was plugged into a pair of earphones that trailed into his head. He multitasked eating his cereal while watching a video, swinging his legs cheerily as he giggled on whatever was on screen. He noticed Leo and removed one of his earbuds.

“Good morning, Leo!” He said with a smile. Mikey watched as Leo trudged into the kitchen.

Leo’s voice was a barely coherent mumble, “m’rnin.”

The source of this morning's clammer was found not too far from the door, where Raph had squeezed himself halfway into the bottom cabinet. He was on his knees and surrounded by an explosion of pots, pans, plastic tupperware, and glass and metal bowls.As Leo carefully stepped through the mess, Raph noticed him.

“Oh, hey!” Raph shot up too fast and hit his head on the top of the cabinet with a bang that was even louder than the ones Leo had woken up to. He rubbed his head and excited the cabinet with a glowing smile, “morning Leo.”

Leo replied with a grumble as he walked past him. “What are you looking for?”

“I’m looking for that Lou Jistsu ‘Hot Soup’ bowl that dad was using the other day, y’know, the red and yellow one?” 

Leo yawned, “you mean the really big one or the one the size of a shot glass?”

Raph used his hands to illustrate the size, “the REALLY big one.”

Leo shuffled further into the kitchen, “why do you want that?”

Leo blindly opened the fridge and reached for the juice bottle, he grasped it by the neck but pulled up too hard, sending his hand rocketing into the top of the fridge. Someone had put the empty orange juice bottle back in the fridge. He turned to Mikey who gleefully sipped at the last of it. With a sigh he chucked the empty bottle into the garbage. Dad’s teakettle was still on the un-lit backburner so he shuffled to the stove, slid the kettle forward, and cranked on the heat. 

“Okay,” Raph started, “so I was watching Lou Jitsu’s ‘Lou Jitsu’s Soba Showdown’ and Lou eats that 25 gallon bowl of Soba to gain the trust of the Mafia leader, before doing a double betrayal and defeating the bad guys, remember?”

“I recall,” Leo was feeling peppermint today so with another yawn he popped open the box and took a packet, (he was getting low on the mint, might have to put that on the next grocery list). 

“Right,” Raph’s excitement grows, “so I’m gonna do that.” 

“Meet up with the mafia??”

“No, eat the Soba!”

“25 gallons?” Leo exclaims as he returns to the fridge and takes a lemon from the drawer. “Of Soba?” He cut it open with a knife that was already on the counter and squeezed some juice into the mug.

“Yeah!” Raph dives back into the cabinet and another few bowls slip out onto the floor. “So I need to find that bowl, because it’s the biggest one we’ve got.”

“Wait,” Mikey interjects as he removes one of his earbuds again, “Raph, what are you looking for?”

“The Lou Jitsu bowl!” The set of copper bowls falls from the cabinet with a ringing clang, bummer, those are Dad’s favorites.

“Which one,” Mikey asks, “the really big one, the cereal one, or the one the size of a shot glass?”

Raph sticks his head back out from under the cabinets, “cereal one? We have a Lou Jitsu cereal bowl?”

Mikey takes a bite of his cereal, “yeah!” 

“Where?” Raph asks.

Mikey chews a bit before answering, “I’m using it.”

Leo turns to Mikey as he rotates his bowl, sure enough, white and red flames with a cartoonish picture of Lou adorn the dish.

Raph gasps, “how long have we had that?”

Mikey swallows before taking another mouthful of cereal, after a brief pause he answers with a smile, “a while.”

Leo tuned out of the next part of their conversation when the kettle started whistling behind his shell. He turned and quickly switched the stove off. He carefully poured the boiling water into the prepared mug and set Dad’s kettle back on the backburner of the stove to let sit in case he needed it again.

Raph and Mikey were still talking about bowls as Leo began his walk towards the table. Raph had retreated back into the cabinets to continue his dig so Leo bent down quietly and picked up one of the smaller glass bowls before shuffling over to sit across from Mikey at the breakfast table.

“Why can’t I find this bowl?!” 

“The cereal bowl?”

“No!” Raph shouts from the cabinets, “the really big one! Soba Showdown!”

“Oooooh!” Mikey draws the word out with a mouthful of cereal as Leo starts filling his own bowl with breakfast flakes.

“Raph,” Leo loosened the sheets around his shoulders as he became more comfortable with the temperature of the room. The left-over exhaustion from last night was starting to wear off as he began to wake-up. “Are you sure you’re even looking in the right cabinet?”

‘ “This is the bowl cabinet! Why wouldn’t it be in the bowl cabinet?!” Raph’s frustration was rising.

“I keep this bowl in my room,” Mikey had turned off the screen of his phone at this point. He wrapped up his earbuds and took the cereal from Leo to refill his own bowl. “Maybe Dad has it?”

“No, I asked Pop’s last night and he said it was in the bowl cabinet,” he hit his head on the inside of the cabinet again and growled, “with the bowls!”

“What are you looking for?” Leo turned his head as Donnie walked into the kitchen. He was awake and alert, holding a coffee cup.

“Good morning, Donnie,” Mikey took the milk before Leo could use it, “Raph’s looking for the Lou Jitsu bowl.”

“The shot glass or the big one?” Donnie walked over to the coffee machine and detached the pot to refill his mug.

Mikey, Raph, and Leo all said in unison with varying degrees of energy, “the big one.”

“It’s on top of the fridge.”

Leo, Mikey, and Raph all looked to the top of the fridge, where a massive bowl with red and white flames sat filled with potatoes and onions. Donnie sat at the table next to Mikey and took the milk before Leo could grab it, quietly pouring a little in his coffee. 

Raph took a short stack of the largest bowls from the ground and skipped over to the fridge. When Donnie finally sat the jug down, Leonardo grabbed the milk before anyone else could take it and poured it over his cereal. With the milk finally added, he took a few bites. It was Mikey’s favorite too-sweet, marshmallow and wafer bargain-brand cereal that he always asked Dad for. Leo picked up his tea and took a sip to check the temperature, it was still really hot but not painfully so. The lemon and peppermint came through nicely so he took a deeper sip.

Donnie sat his mug down with a smile and pulled out his phone. Mikey zeroed in on the cup.

“Are you drinking choccy milk?!” Mikey squealed.

“What?” Donnie was caught off guard at the sudden, loud question.

“You’ve got chocolate milk?!” Raph shouted from the fridge, trying to balance the large bowl (still full of potatoes and onions) on his shoulders as he took it down.

“No!” Donnie sighed, “you just saw me pour the milk, Mikey, it’s coffee.”

“Aw~” Mikey sighed and plugged his earbuds back in to continue watching his video.

Leonardo took another bite of his cereal and chewed for a few seconds. Donnie took another swallow from his mug, keeping his eyes on the screen of his phone. The night before was a blur. Leonardo remembered waking up exhausted and really wanting to go back to sleep. Messing with Donatello was fun for a million reasons, but this morning, as he sat across the table from him, his cereal was sitting uncomfortably in the bottom of his stomach. Leo picked up his tea and took another sip, eyeing Donnie as he did the same with his own drink. “When did you start putting milk in your coffee?”

Donnie's eyes flicked upwards, “hm?”

“You’ve always taken your coffee black,” Leo took another bite of cereal and looked at the mug in Donnie’s hand, it was the same mug as the night before. With the kitchen lights on he could see it was a purple mug with a picture of Atomic Lass on the side. “When did you start adding milk?”

Donatello put down his mug and attempted to focus back in on his phone, “uhh, just…” he started typing something. “I don’t know… recently?” 

Leo smiled, “what happened to ‘I like my coffee to be as black as my soul.’” Leo deepened his voice at the soul coffee line, teasingly chuckling at Donnie who was looking at him now. He looked confused, studying Leo with an expression that Leo couldn’t recognize on his brother’s face.

“When did I say that,” he scoffed, “milk and coffee go great together.” Donnie swallowed audibly as he finished the last of what was in his mug. He set the cup down again and kept typing on his phone. Leo took another bite of his cereal, he was getting close to the bottom of his bowl now, but he wasn’t as hungry as he usually was so he didn’t think he’d be going for a second bowl. Mikey chuckled with a mouthful of cereal and Donnie looked up again, first at Mikey but then back to Leo with furrowed brows. “Why do you care?”

Leo stopped chewing, “I don’t, I just…” he wasn’t done chewing but he swallowed to clear his mouth. It stuck to his throat. “Making conversation?” Leo picked up his tea and swallowed, trying to move the cereal down. Donnie made another face that Leo didn’t recognize, it still had the inquisitive nature but more… suspicious?

Donnie looked hesitant, picking up his mug again to take another sip before he realized his cup was empty, “I mean, it definitely tastes better.” He left the table, breaking eye contact as he walked towards the coffee machine. 

There was suddenly a small stone forming in his stomach, it wasn’t heavy, but it was there. Leo adjusted his shoulders and sat up trying to get comfortable again. ‘Donnie’s a lot more tired than me,’ the little voice in his head rang. That’s right! Donnie was up before and, supposedly, after Leo had woken up last night working on that secret thing. He must have been drinking coffee non-stop and needed a little change to the bitterness. Leonardo’s tea was room temperature now and he greedily swallowed the rest. He sat the cup down with a loud tap just as Donnie sat down.

He didn’t take the milk this time.

Mikey stood abruptly with a satisfied “wew!” He had finished his cereal and his show, and with a quick stretch he left the table. 

Donatello slowly took a mouthful of his coffee, noticeably trying to stifle the grimace that forced itself on his face as he swallowed. Leo stared for a moment, ‘he’s drunk his coffee black since we were 10,’ the small voice whispered, ‘all those fluorescent lights must’ve killed his taste buds’. The reasoning wasn’t as confident.

Leo had to look away when Donnie’s eyes shifted to him with that bitter-coffee-scowl, it wasn’t Donnie’s, ‘you’re annoying me, brat,’ look, it was resentful and reserved, and it caused a density that reached across the table. Leonardo took another bite of his cereal but the weight in his stomach only deepened under his brother's unfamiliar gaze. He wordlessly pushed the milk towards Donnie.

“I got the bowl!” Raph bellowed, appearing behind the table and holding the themed movie bowl above his head. The dense gaze was immediately alleviated as Donnie was pulled away from the stare of his own making. Leo sighed in relief as Donnie took the milk and unscrewed the top.

Mikey put his bowl in the sink, “Raph, why do you need a Lou Jitsu bowl the size of a bathtub anyway?”

“He wants to try and eat 25 gallons of Soba.” Leonardo leaned back in his chair, using his knee to pry away from the table. With the gaze lifted, Leo put on a smile as he directed his information to no-one-in-particular.

Donnie looked up from his mug as he finished filling it to the top with milk, “I’m sorry,” exasperated, “25 gallons?”

“Of Soba,” Leo’s smile widened, “yeah.”

“That’s an awesome idea Raph!” Mikey cheered, “now how do you make Soba?” 

“Uh...:” Raph paused, “I was just gonna, y’know, buy it from somewhere.”

Mikey scoffed, borderline offended, “you were just gonna buy soup?”

“Yeah?” Raph mumbled, his voice starting to sound confused.

“No. No no.” Mikey continued with the tone of refusal in his voice escalating, “no no no no no.” He whipped out his phone in a dramatic fashion and started typing. “This is a Soba. Showdown. Challenge.” He pulled up an image and Leo had to lean out of his chair to see the LED picture. The image was a human lady sitting at a table surrounded by empty bowls in a restaurant, headlined “Woman eats 300 bowls in 17 minutes.” Mikey showed the image to Raph and then Donnie, who was showing little interest as he dove into his own phone. “We are gonna make our own Soba.”

“Mikey,” Donnie sighed, “you don’t know how to make Soba.”

Leo chimed in, “hey, he can probably figure it out.” There was a tinge of sarcasm in his voice, but it wasn’t full hearted. Mikey was, afterall, a better cook than any of them. Japanese cuisine wasn’t exactly his forté, but he was pretty killer with Italian.  “And he’s right,” Leo added.

“About what?” One of Donnie’s eyebrows rose with the question.

Leo pointed to Raphael, “Raph, is this really a soba eating challenge?”

“Uh,” Raph hesitated for a moment before he answered excitedly, “yeah! Yeah it is!”

“‘Hot Soup’ is our catchphrase,” Leo picked up his bowl and drank the milk from it, setting it down with a loud tap before he finished his sentence with a refreshed sigh, “as much as we talk about soup we should be able to make our own.”

“Yeah!” Mikey shouted, “what he said!” 

“Yeah! Except…” Raph deflated as he set the bowl down on the table between the four of them, Leo had to sit up straighter to see over the bowl, it was ridiculously large. “We don’t even know if we’re going to like Soba.”

“What are you talking about,” the familiar rasp caught Leo by surprise. “You boys love Sansai Soba.” Splinter walked into the kitchen with a hearty yawn as he passed his boys, skipping the breakfast table and walking directly to the fridge. It was unusually early for him to be up, his normal wake up time was closer to noon.

“Sorry pop’s,” Leo chuckled, “but we’ve never had Soba.”

“Yes you have.”

“What’s Sansai Soba?” Mikey inquired, walking over to lean on the counter.

“You’ve had it,” Dad pulls out a leftover Panda Express box, hopping onto the counter close to Mikey with a pair of chopsticks.

“Uh, no Dad,” Donnie looked up from his phone as he brought his mug close to his face, “we haven’t.”

Dad popped open the box, mixing up the contents with his utensils, “yes you have.”

“Yeah,” Donnie muttered under his mug as he took a sip, “pretty sure we’d all remember something like ‘Sansai Soba’.”

“Dad, when did we have it?” Raph questioned.

“Mm,” their Dad hummed thoughtfully, a smile creeping in as he searched through the brain fog to find the answer, “Red, you were about… five years old?”

“Oh, yeah,” a scoff erupted from Leo, “like we’re gonna remember that!”

“Eh,” Splinter remarked.

Mikey repeated himself, still curious, “Dad, what’s sansai soba?”

“Sansai Soba is a soup,” Splinter took a bite of cold noodles, talking with a full mouth. “It’s made with mountain vegetables, buckwheat noodles, and dashi stock.”

“We ate that?” Raph said in disbelief.

“Surprisingly,” Dad swallowed, “yes.”

Mikey crossed one of his legs as he leaned closer, “where’d you get it from?” 

“I made it.”

“You can’t cook.” Donnie said matter-of-factly.

“I can too,” Splinter retorted, rising out of his wake-up haze at Donnie’s comment, “I cook all the time!”

Mikey teasingly chuckled, “putting chips in a bowl doesn’t count, Dad.” All four brothers laughed at that while Dad only scowled with a facefull of noodles. Most of the time Dad didn’t use a bowl, he would just eat an entire bag by himself.

“You know nothing!” Dad spat, “I will show you!”

“You’ll make the Soba?” The wonder in Mikey’s voice was hopeful and full of excitement.

“No,” Dad sat the box on the counter and slid off, “we will be making it.”

Mikey gasped, “yay, family time!”

“Count me out.”

“Yeah i’m good.” Donnie and Leo spoke at the same time, but they weren’t heard over the excitement from Raph and Mikey. Raph had picked his massive bowl back up and both he and Mikey eagerly followed their father out of the room, leaving the pile of bowls forgotten on the kitchen floor.

Leo’s bowl was empty now, and he was out of tea. He leaned back in his seat and looked to Donnie, who quickly looked away from him and back to his phone as he sipped at his coffee… with milk.

“Not eager to put your chef skills to the test?” Leo teased, an awkwardness had resettled now that the two other brothers were gone.

Donnie looked back to Leo and was silent for a moment before smiling with his response, “no more than you.” 

Leo chuckled as he stood, taking his dishes with him to the sink. He loaded his things into the dishwasher (including his cup from the night before) and walked back to grab his blanket.

Leo could hear the taps of Donnie’ finger pads against his phone as he typed. Leo rolled his blanket into a messy ball as the weight in his tummy returned. “Are you okay?”

Donnie stopped typing and looked up, not really moving as his eyes lifted to Leo. There was a wary uncertainty as he answered. “Yeah?” He took a long sip as he stared thoughtfully, “why do you ask?”

Leo didn’t take too long to answer, the pauses were getting monotonous, “just asking.”

He left the kitchen but felt Donnie’s eyes on him as he walked. It was uncomfortable as he felt holes being bored into the back of his neck. When he entered his room Leo threw his blanket on the bed. He could still hear Raph and Mikey talking to their Dad in the living room, but the details of their conversation were obscured by distance and action movie noises. Leo sighed and stretched as he circled his room. The soreness in his neck and shoulders were finally fading into afterthoughts from the movements, he felt a lot better after eating something, but the rock in his stomach from the breakfast table hadn’t left. If anything, it was heavier now, and it grew larger and more uncomfortable the more he thought about the interaction he had with Donnie. There wasn’t anything in particular wrong but it just felt… unfamiliar? ‘Remember,’ the little voice repeated, ‘he must be really tired.’ It didn’t help it’s own case though, because it kept repeating images in his head. The way that Donnie’s face contorted when his tongue touched the black coffee was so unfamiliar, the flickering eye movements were not something that his twin did, the ‘why do you care?’ was too hostile.

With a huff he pushed it all aside, the lack of sleep was just making him paranoid and he knew it. Donnie is tired too, he repeated, Donnie is tired too. Leo stood for a moment, trying to occupy his mind with something else. What did he want to do today?

-

This was Leo’s sixth song, and he was on a roll. He didn’t have a perfect score, but he was high in the ranks of Dance Dance Revolution; and by high, he meant he was back in third place. The tired metal and aged plastic creaked under the furious motion of his feet and he began to break a sweat as his score continued to rise. He hadn’t selected the hardest song in the game, he was planning on working his score up and then he’d choose one of the harder songs for last to see if he could get past Mikey’s score. He wanted to beat Raph’s score, but that was a bit of a pipe dream considering how much Raphael loved this game.

They hadn’t had the dance machine for very long in comparison to some of the other arcade games they had collected. This machine in particular the four brothers had only possessed for about a year, and they hadn’t really found a lot of time to play it with all of the action that had been going on in their lives. Raph had the highest score since he enjoyed the game the most, and towered above them all with a whopping score of 4370, and Mikey was second  with a score of 1993. Leo and Donnie, on the other hand, were always switching between third and fourth place. Donnie had held the better dance score for the first month, but then Leo had swiped it during a competitive ‘Pluto the First’ challenge dance, after that, they had kept switching every time they played, neither of them really getting too much of an upper hand. Leo decided to play this when he found himself in fourth place with a score of 620, and Donnie in third with 659.

As the song approached its finale the number of coordinated moves increased, picking up the pace. Leo needed this, after the exhaustion from this morning and his paranoid awkwardness, the dancing was a fantastic distraction from it all. He just needed to get his mind off of it and get his body moving.With one final tap the song finished and Leo sighed in exertion. He took a step off of the pad and bent down to unscrew his water bottle-

“Wow, great score Leo!”

Leo nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden noise, nearly dropping his water in the process. Donnie was there and leaning against the rails of the dancing machine with a look of interest. He was wearing his favorite purple hoodie with the hood draping over his shoulders, this morning’s hostile look was gone. Leo shook off the chill in his spine and played it cool, “why thank you,” Leo bowed dramatically. His score was now 780. Leo took a sip of water before re-capping the bottle and setting it back down to the floor. “I am once again in third place,” he stretched and faced Donnie, a few inches taller than him now thanks to the dance pad, “take that,” he snapped his fingers into a finger gun to accompany the words.

Donatello hummed in response as he looked at the screen. His eyes flicked between the screen and Leo, and for a moment they fell on the water bottle on the floor. A playful grin spread on his face as his eyes narrowed. “I don’t think so,” Donnie leaped over the rail and landed on the alternate pad, “2-player challenge.”  He used the buttons below the screen to select the most difficult song in the game: Paranoia Survivor Max. It was short but it was a beater. “Winner takes third.”

Leo chuckled and scrolled down to the start button for him. “You’re on.” He slapped the start button and jumped into place. 

The screen displayed “HERE WE GO” and Leo only had a quick moment to look at the info tab on the bottom right side of the screen - BPM 290; challenge 16. His current score was displayed along with the info. On Donnie’s side of the screen the same information was displayed with his measly score of 659, and Leo was going to keep it that way.

It started quicker than Leo anticipated (as usual) and they were immediately thrown into the fray. Down up down right down up down left up down up down left. This was the most difficult song in Dance Dance Revolution history, and he wasn’t gonna lose to Donnie this time. Donnie usually lost to him, but it was always close, and he had been getting better every time due to his love of dance. Leo winced as he missed a step, but he wasn’t going to let it get to his head, he was going to get into Donnie’s head. A break in the song (literally half a second) was enough time for him to do a spin before landing on the next combination of arrows, he laughed when he hit successfully and added a bit more flare to his movements with some enthusiastic arm choreography.

“Yo, Bootyyyshaker9000.” Down up right up down up left.

“Yeah?” Donnie replied with a pant, Leo could already feel a sting in his ankles as he continued the ridiculously fast paced dance. 

He’d start with a low blow. “How does it feel to rank number 4 in the dance department?” Leo didn’t dare look at Donnie’s side of the screen, he was already missing a few points and he wasn’t going to lose anymore by looking at someone else's arrows.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” their steps were almost in sinc, “last I checked, I was the better dancer.” This morning's pestering weight was dissipating in the activity. This was Donnie! The dance, tech, and Atomic Lass loving dork that had some pretty sweet moves when he wanted to. Leo could hear the smile on his twins face as he was enjoying this too, it had been too long since they had competed like this, they should do it more often. It made him laugh.

“Ha!” Leo did a few key steps, “you call that dancing?” He was going to win this round “You rely too much on a machine, brother, this is dancing!”

Leo began exaggerating his movements, building up kicks and adding a few more spins as he pumped up the energy. Not everyone gets tired when playing DDR, but man, he was starting to feel it. It didn’t matter though, his score was high and he felt good. He did another spin and looked over his shoulder as he did the dance backwards. He heard Donnie emit a sound of frustration as Leo kept up with the movements. Leo laughed and switched back, it was a show-off move but nothing he could do for long.

They were getting close to the end, Leo could tell because he had watched Raph play this song a hundred times (that was an exaggeration, maybe six times, because this song was too crazy to do a hundred times.) He waited for the last move, where he spun again and dabbed at the last step.

Leo let off a sigh of exhaustion and put his hands on his knees as he panted. 442 points! Not marvelous, but perfect in the eyes of DDR. “Take that Don-” 120. Leo did a double take. Donnie’s score was only 120. Donnie was panting but he wasn’t nearly as tired as Leo. Bootyyyshaker9000, the guy who danced with Atomic Lass in times square, who was able to beat Mikey in DDR’s butterfly dance (but no other song and it was only that one time because it was Mikey), who always came close if he didn’t beat Leo in a double challenge, was sitting close to fail in the score system.

Donnie had his hands on his hips, faking exertion. “Wow, you sure beat me-”

“Donnie are you okay?” Leo cut him off. The rock dropped back into his guts as he stood up straight, coming to eye level with Donnie.

“What?” Donatello looked confused.

“If somethings wrong, you can tell me,” Leo continued as he took a step closer to Donnie, “are you feeling sick or something?”

“Uh... No, I'm fine,” he chuckled, albeit a bit uncomfortably, Donnie chuckled.

Leo continued. “Is it insomnia?” He took another step closer, now on Donnie’s side of the pad. He knew that sometimes Donnie experienced insomnia, the family wasn’t sure if it was chronic or just because of how much coffee purple always consumed, but when he did get insomnia, he got it bad. “You were up pretty late last night.”

Donnie scoffed with a wavering smile, “so where you!”

“Yeah, but you stayed up! It’s okay if somethings wrong, Donnie,”  Leo put a hand on his arms, “just tell me.”

Donnie shoved Leo’s hand off, his voice rising. “I’m fine!”

“I don’t think you are!”

“I’m fine, Leo!” Leo took a step back at the shout. Donnie wasn’t looking at him now, but he was glaring uncomfortably as his eyes darted around trying to find something to focus on. Donnie flipped his hood on and straightened with a sigh. That weight was growing uncomfortable in Leo’s stomach, so he picked up his water bottle and took a chug to try and drown the feeling. It didn’t help. 

“Can I have some of your water?” He didn’t know why, but the request put goosebumps on his skin. Donnie hated backwash, he was the guy who would just buy you a drink if you asked for some of his own, and Leo was already halfway through the cheap plastic bottle. Donnie held his hand out expectantly.

With a brief hesitation, Leo put the bottle in his hand wordlessly, stepping off the dance pad as his brother took a few swallows. He didn’t feel like dancing anymore, or maybe he just didn’t want to be in the same room as Purple.

“Thanks, here,” Donnie smiled awkwardly as he reached the water back towards Leo.

“You can have it.” Donnie’s smile dropped into a blank stare and it sent a chill down Leo’s shell, “i’m not thirsty right now.”

Leo left the room, but neither the chill, the goosebumps, or the weight left him as he could feel a stare tracing him as he walked.

[4dtk]

read part one here! there’s more dialogue in this one, oops. plus, this isn’t based on any song but there’s undertones of ‘love song’ by nct 127 in it, enjoy!

[jaemin, 6:38pm] the next time you meet jaemin is when the rain’s pouring heavily, creating music on the metal roof of the convenience store. it was just your luck to reach the store before the rain intensified, but now you were probably stuck for a good hour until the downfall subsided. he was holding a blue packet of chocolate hearts, talking to a friend who was situated on a bike.

“jaemin?”

he spun around at your familiar voice, arms going up in excitement at seeing you.

“is this the girl you were talking about jaem?” the other male giggled, putting on his helmet before starting up his motorcycle. you looked at him funny, wondering what things jaemin could’ve told him.

“sorry for laughing, but jaemin has only told me good stuff about you, don’t worry about it. i’m jeno,” you bowed slightly, smacking jaemin lightly after his friend had left the area. there was a subtle rev from the biker before hearing him speed off in the rain. you stole a chocolate heart from him as punishment, waiting for the familiar flavour to kick in but grimaced instead at the bizarre taste. snatching the packet from him, you noticed that it was a limited edition of blueberry chocolate hearts, shooting the male a disgusted look.

“what? blueberry chocolate hearts aren’t that bad.”

hearing the pitter-patter of the rain calmed your nervous heart, as you wondered what jaemin could’ve said for his friend to react like that.

“who was that?”

“he’s in my class, he majors in geology like me.” jaemin looked over to you, waiting for a reaction from you. was being interested in the earth weird?

“geology? it never struck me that you would be a man interested in rocks.”

“yeah, this man is also rock… hard,” you only sighed at that, leaving the male to laugh at his dick joke while you enter the store for the original flavour of chocolate hearts. you hoped he didn’t actually… have a boner, or that would be disturbing as hell.

“you kinda set yourself up for that one, (y/n), plus you make it seem like it’s a boring thing to be interested in, we also learn about volcanoes and earthquakes and anything that relates to the earth and its processes.”

you put your hands up in surrender, “i’m not saying it’s not intriguing—i did do geography in high school, i was pretty good at it, but i think i forgot most of it.”

jaemin smiled, bringing his arms into a big circle, mouth wide open even though there was a half-chewed blueberry heart in his mouth. “but that’s just the surface of it, we learn a lot more than high school geography.” you glanced at the boy, noticing the unique way in how his eyes gleam from the refrigerator light and how his gestures travel everywhere to get his point across.  

“yeah? like what?" giving up your usual drink, you settled for the coffee service at the counter instead, knowing you'd rather enjoy a hot beverage rather than an iced coffee in this weather.

“normally, the geology of an area changes over time—rock units are deposited and inserted, deformational processes alter their shapes and locations. they are first emplaced either by deposition onto the surface or intrusion into the overlying rock. the former process can occur when sediments settle onto the surface of the earth and later lithify into sedimentary rock, or when as volcanic material blanket the surface,” you cut him to show off your high school level geography, poking fun at the male while your smile got through to his heart, “like, ash and lava.”

jaemin could only laugh in reply, waiting for you after the cashier as you waited for your cash to be returned and for your coffee to be made.

“igneous intrusions such as batholiths, laccoliths, dykes and sills, push upwards into the overlying rock, and crystallise as they intrude.” he ended off his small speech with a bow, passing him to receive the scorching hot beverage before going outside to sit with the rain.

“did you read that off wiki before this?”

“in a way, i… guess. i did have a test a few days ago, i have another tomorrow.” jaemin giggled, frowning right after at the last blueberry heart in the packet. he offered it to you, anyway, but turned it down due to its questionable flavour.

before you could insult him for his weird tastebuds, you heard a crash from inside the store, causing you to check out the sudden sound. umbrellas were scattered over the floor, having fallen over from its box when it was unstable. you and jaemin helped the cashier on duty to place the umbrellas back in place while you debated on whether you should purchase one to head back.

just do it.

“hey, sorry, can i purchase one of the umbrellas?”

the cashier only smiles at your question. “rushing to head back home, huh?”

you didn’t know how to answer her question, so you stayed quiet as she checked your item out. removing the plastic from the new umbrella, you tugged on jaemin’s arm to drag him under your shelter with him. at this, he shook his head.

“what?”

“i hate the rain,” he muttered, hand visibly tightening around the blue wrapper of blueberry chocolate hearts.

“i’m not gonna leave your sorry ass waiting here for the rain to ease off, you said you had a test tomorrow, right?” you tried your hand at tugging on his arm again, but he remained glued to his spot.

“iiiiiii just remembered it’s just a small quiz, doesn’t need much studying,” jaemin grinned, looking into your eyes for some kind of message, but all he got was your unimpressed face staring back at him before sighing, “okay fine. whatever. let’s go.”

it doesn’t take much for your heart to spike up in speed, his arm naturally going around your person as he takes over holding the umbrella. you can see how he pouted while leading the way back to the university dorms, noting how he kept looking down at his shoes. new shoes? was that why he didn’t want to go into the rain? jaemin’s enigmatic behaviour remains unanswered as you feel his breath on your hair, occasionally turning back to look at incoming traffic.

“you’re really warm, did catch a fever?” you asked cautiously, despite loving the warmth the boy gave out. it felt familiar and comforting, like a knitted sweater or blanket that resided in your dorms. said boy could only show you a small smile, eyes crinkled at its tips softly as he went on to cross the road that led to your destination. you definitely saw your own reflection in his eyes with how close you were standing, with how big and expressive they were.

“…dent pass?”

huh?

“do you have your student pass?” jaemin repeats, using his head to gesture to his occupied hands.

“oh no,” you said, not intending the other to hear your wave of panic.

“what is it?”

“my friend tapped me out, do you have yours?” your heart was at the verge of dropping, awaiting his answer that would decide your fate.

“so did mine,” jaemin could only purse his lips, halting in front of the dormitory gates in the pouring rain, “i am really hating this right now.”

“you don’t think i’m uncomfortable?” you scoff, looking up at him with an annoyed expression. his arm went from around your shoulders to your waist almost immediately, hands hovering right after he’d seen your surprised expression.

“sorry, about that.” he trailed off, looking anywhere but in your line of sight as you struggled to hide your smile. you shake your head, stepping closer to the geology major in a leap of confidence. both of you wish you could’ve stayed like that a little longer, though, the atmosphere was ruined with a ding! of your phone. it was a picture of the two of you smiling down at each other, prompting you to eye your roommate from where you were.

curse the room that was facing the dormitory gate; plus, she was being unnecessarily annoying today.

with a whoosh!, you sent out a text for her to pick you up before turning your attention back to the boy in front of you.

“hi.” you mumble, not knowing whether to smile when he was looking at you like that, where the strands of his hair were a little damp and his cheeks reached his eyes due to his wide smile.

“hey, (y/n).” jaemin whispers back, arm tightening around your body, hoping your friend never comes and that you could remain here forever.

funny, you were hoping that would be the case too.

[youarejesting]

Quarantine.5

[Masterlist] Pairing: BTS x reader Friends2Lovers But as slow as you can go until the anticipation kills us all... Genres: friendship, drama, romance SLOWEST OF BURNS BUT IT WILL BE BURNING AN ETERNAL FLAME!!! Rating: All Summary: Your brother works with a few BigHit dance teams and whilst having permission to accompany him at work the city shuts down banning anyone from stepping outside for a whole WEEK while they disinfect the streets. If you step outside you might get arrested, shot or poisoned by the chemicals they are emitting through the city. Words: 2.4k Announcement: 

[Part 1]  [Part 4] [Part 6]  [Tag Yourself Here]

Yoongi grinned while shuffling and dealing the cards, his long fingers moving quickly. He liked to see you like this, desperate. Tongue swiping along his bottom lip. Wondering what you would look like begging for him to use that pink condom. Noticing your face as you checked your hand. Your eyes narrowed slightly in disgust; he knew you had shitty cards. Leaning over he looked at Namjoons, giving nothing away. You weren’t going to win this but you began your bluff anyway, you tried not to make it visible that you were sweating. Namjoon was confident and if he was honest a little bit aroused from the power he had in a simple game of poker. He called for you to show your hand and beat your pair with a flush. 

“Ah, the sweet, sweet victory” he took all the ‘chips’ and the boys began distributing their shares. Jungkook picked up the one you had been saving and saw the way you stared at it. He almost laughed that one could get so emotional over a condom. Handing it back to you fingers brushing your palm. 

“We won’t take away your prize possession, plus we don’t need any help in the bedroom” he gave a bunny smile. Seokjin nodded agreeing with Jungkook’s statement if you thought a textured piece of plastic would help you in the bedroom then you clearly had a sad sex life. Not only did he pride himself on his looks he knew he was great in bed. He wasn’t as domineering or rough as some of the others but he was an expert at deep pleasure. 

You kissed the packet and slipped it back in your bra not noticing that all eyes were on you. Determining that you had to be classified as one of the boys, a friend. They couldn’t see you as a woman, especially if they were so comfortable talking about this with you. Crushing the tiny feeling of disappointment, because you didn’t actually like them that way either. At least that’s what you were telling yourself, surely if you kept saying it, you might believe it and then you wouldn’t get hurt. You started a game of solitaire, with the hope to erase all these thoughts from your mind. 

This was dangerous territory, none of them had anticipated getting this involved with you and as each day passed they were finding it more and more difficult to think of excuses to not pursue you. They watched you tuck your hair behind your ear, biting your lip as you concentrated on your card game. They were pulled from their thoughts and imagination by a knock at the door. Jungkook used it as an excuse to distance himself from you, he pulled the door open.

“B/n, what brings you here?” “We have all been taking turns with the cleaning of the building tonight would you be okay with doing the serving and dishes” your brother spoke beside him was the boy’s manager who was checking up on them, he was a kind-looking man who looked like he was under a lot of pressure. 

“Sure,” Namjoon said volunteering his group.  “I can help too” you smiled as the manager's eyes landed on you and then scanned each boy's face. They all looked guilty, you thought it was because they shouldn’t have female friends in case of a scandal. You made a mental note to explain there was nothing going on to ease his stress. He sighed leading you all to the cafeteria. 

Eating early, you got ready to work. The boys were halved, the older four were on serving duty, the younger three and yourself were on dish duty. The kitchen was big and had two deep tubs and a sprayer that hung above the sink from the overhead rack. You each wrapped yourselves in aprons. Hoseok stepped behind you to help secure yours, he took the cords of fabric and pulled you towards him. He kept luring you in, you stepped back until you felt his chest against yours, able to hear his shallow breathing. He twisted the cords, pulling them together, you gasped at the feeling.

“That’s not too tight y/n?” He sounded different, there were no silly voices or amusing tones, no he was serious and the sound had you pressing your thighs subtly together. Breathless you confirmed that it was perfect, he secured the ties and smoothed his hands down the side of the apron. “There now you can protect your pretty dress”

You spent your time scraping plates clean, humming to yourself and dancing. The boys started fighting over the sink sprayer. Rolling your eyes at the pair you continued working this wasn’t something you needed to get into. Even if they were so cute playfully arguing. Jungkook splashed Jimin and the two got into a water fight. You watched the two drenching each other. Shirts stuck to their arms, the muscles rolling and tensing with every movement. The way the water clung to their hair weighing it down making it stick to their foreheads. Jimin with his continuous need to rub his hands through his hair, brought with it mouthwatering imagery of it slicked back. Scolding yourself for the impure thoughts. 

“Guys that’s enough we are almost done, seriously. You are such children just give it up”

“We are not” they hissed. They went back to work continuing washing the last of the dishes. Wondering what happened after quarantine; they hadn’t even asked to exchange numbers if that wasn’t an indicator of how much you actually meant to them you didn’t know what was. 

“These are the last dishes?” Taehyung put them in the sink, whispering to the boys his eyes on you. Rolling your eyes as they sprayed him and he flinched away. “Keep yourself away from perverted thoughts” You all finished the dishes and the others had packed up the leftovers. Jimin served everyone Hotteok for dessert. It was a fluffy warm Korean pancake. 

You dried your hands frowning at how wrinkly they had become in the water. “Jin I’m so old” you held your hands out to him. The laugh you managed to pull from his chest was something you would treasure. You thought you heard Namjoon whisper something to Hoseok who made an appreciative noise. Both staring at you. 

“We got permission to have a bottle of soju each and a Makgeolli to share” Jin grinned pouring everyone a glass, they taught you a drinking game, and you taught them one that you knew. 

There was a game that had you laughing loudly Seokjin paused walking around the small table and grabbed you by the shoulders you could barely hold yourself up from the joy “Ya! Ya!” He spoke quickly in Korean and when Namjoon calmed down enough he explained.   

“He says that people say his laugh is like windshield wipers but yours is like a squeaky toy” You covered your mouth cheeks turning red. 

Hoseok had stopped drinking, declaring he was getting too drunk, Taehyung winced and whined every time he drank. Suggesting you move the drinking to the basement. You took some of the promotional soda’s from a box and mixed Taehyung’s drinks for him, so they would taste a little sweeter. He seemed to enjoy it greatly. They all fell asleep and you sighed realising there was no way you could move them. Turning on your music and the air purifier, you laid down on the futon. Only to be grabbed by Taehyung who pulled you against his chest, you tried your best to get comfortable. 

He was asleep but he tended to make deep sounds, the kind reserved for adult bedroom activities. Namjoon had moved Yoongi from the floor onto the couch and gave a soft sigh, “can I lay beside you?”

“Of course” you lifted the sleeping bag “The blanket is a bit short so you might have to get close”

He laid with his back against yours and you smiled about to drift off when you heard. 

“I feel sick” Taehyung groaned. How is it this man could make anything seem so cute? You would think all his whining would become annoying but it was endearing. His hair was stuck to his forehead and he was frowning, sitting up immediately you tried to guide Taehyung from the room. Leading him to the bathroom where he sat leaning over the toilet. He was whining and you rubbed his back. He didn’t manage to vomit so you decided to help him stand and head back to bed but when he pulled himself upright, he vomited down the white dress you were wearing. 

“I am sorry,” he sniffed, getting upset and you laughed carefully, removing the dress and using the sleeve to wipe his mouth. “Don’t be sorry, it’s not my dress. Are you feeling better?” He vomited again but you had managed to turn him to the sink in time. Rubbing his back patiently until he stopped vomiting you helped him remove his shirt and pants.

“Hajimaaaaa…What are you doing?”  “You are going for a shower, okay? You accidentally got vomit on your shirt and pants.”

“Oh okay, I thought you were trying to kiss me” He giggled at the idea. It made him smile. He bet you tasted sweet, he knew kissing you would cure the sick feeling in his stomach and the ache in his head. He had been imagining how soft your lips would feel against his ever since he watched you dance. He pulled you under the shower with him and you both sat while he held you in his arms. 

“No, I wouldn’t kiss you” You laughed reminding yourself that they were being friendly. That they were celebrities and they were stuck in quarantine for a week. It meant nothing.

“Why not?” “Cause you just vomited Tae”  “So you would kiss me if I didn’t vomit?” “Sure would buddy, now into the shower” “But I am still wearing my underwear” “Yes because I don’t want to see you naked”

“No fair you saw Jin naked, why don’t I get to be naked” he gently played with the little heart charm on your bra. “Taehyung, listen I saw jin naked by accident. If I see you naked then everyone will want me to see them naked” He nodded seeming to understand that logic.

“You are so pretty, but you need to take those off” he pointed at your underwear and your cheeks lit up. “You should wear TATA underwear instead” “Okay when we are finished I will change into TATA underwear how does that sound”

You seemed to lose him in a string of Korean and he was singing to you asking you questions that you couldn’t answer. And he was upset. He told you he loved you yet you didn’t answer. He called you beautiful and whispered sweet nothings and you didn’t even smile. He felt his heartbreaking a little. But he couldn’t bring himself to hate you for it because he would make you love him just as you made him love you. You kept speaking in your funny foreign language and he thought it was cute, but he wished he knew what you were saying. He didn’t know that the feeling was mutual and you had no clue what he was saying either.

Wrapping him up and with as much skill as you could, you dressed him behind his towel. You led him back to bed and you grabbed some clothes and got changed. Jungkook walked in and froze. Your back was to him and you were wearing nothing but TATA underwear “Why does it smell? did you vomit, do you need water or something. Do you have enough clothes?”

“Tae vomited all over the bathroom and myself then got super flirty in the shower” 

You laughed wiggling a hoodie over your head and down your body. Jungkook wrapped his arms around you from behind. He buried his nose deep in your hair. You smelt like strawberries and cream, and that was much better than the smell coming from the bathroom. He wanted you, tonight, tomorrow, maybe a little more. But he couldn’t have you. Not in any way meaningful, they were allowed one night stands but if that happened you had to sign a nondisclosure agreement. The problem was one night stands by the company were just that. One night. they could never have you again. 

The idea to say fuck it and have you was killing him, his pants tightened this was going to make it hard to pee. But the idea of having you near was worth more than a night of drunken pleasure. He liked the way you smiled, the way you reprimanded them the way you weren't afraid of anything. Hell, you had ventured out onto the streets through poisonous chemicals to retrieve supplies. You were badass and he actually enjoyed talking with you, your thoughts could get pretty wild like Taehyung. You had a full twenty-minute conversation over lunch about if this became a zombie apocalypse how you would survive. 

He let you go. It was simultaneously the worst and best thing watching you walk away leaving him alone in the bathroom. You had to walk away. Your resolve was weakening. Jungkook had felt so nice wrapped around you and a second longer and you might have started something you would both regret in the morning. Stepping into the storage room, you saw Taehyung had spread out on the futon and you sighed moving the air purifier across the room to Jimin’s futon. Where you had noticed he had a little room. Hoping he didn’t mind you laid down in front of him, your back facing him. He untucked the blanket and swooped it over you, his muscular arm locking around your waist before he pulled you back until you were against his chest. 

He was too tired, to do any more than this. You felt so warm and soft, fitting perfectly in his arms. Not only were you an amazing dancer, but you also were funny and kind and you understood him, the two of you just meshed so well. You were flirty and yet shy and he had never met a girl that was more perfect for him. He could tell the others liked you too but he was ready to fight and protect you. He wouldn’t let them think about hurting you. He settled back to sleep, his plush lips gently pressed against your exposed neck as you slept. His dreams were filled with lazy mornings waking up beside you and hot nights worshipping your body. You were drifting off to sleep once more when one of the boys farted across the room, you were too tired to even be bothered. Thank god for the air purifier.

[Part 1]  [Part 4]  [Part 6]  [Tag Yourself Here]

Tags: @bubbletae7​ @lovemusicandotps​ @taetaeb @seveniefive​ @w0lfqu33n​

[emospritelet]

Chapter 11 is up. Last time in the present day (chapter 9), Weaver told Lacey he wouldn't sign the divorce papers, and they had a bunch of angry sex.  This chapter picks up where chapter 9 left off

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9][Part 10]

AO3 link

Weaver wanted to stay pressed against Lacey forever, but he was getting cold, lying naked on the floor of their apartment, and he needed to get back to Nolan’s place.  His plan to have a long conversation with Lacey had been effectively derailed, and while he cursed his own weakness for thinking with his cock, the chance to have her in his arms again was too wonderful to feel too bad about it.  He kissed her again, pushing up off her and hunting for his clothes.  Lacey dressed in silence, and the heavy, awkward atmosphere descended again.  Weaver wanted to sigh, but he zipped his jeans, buckling his belt and tugging on his shirt.

“So,” he said, fastening shirt buttons as he watched her dress.  “What now?”

She flicked her eyes across to him, chewing her lip, and his mouth flattened.

“Lacey,” he said.  “I fucking meant it.  I’m not signing any papers until I know why I’m signing them, okay?”

“I know,” she said softly.

“So we need to talk,” he said.  “I want to make this work, but if that’s not possible - well, if it’s not, then I don’t want it to be because we didn’t try, okay?  Please.”

Lacey tugged her dress straight, folding her arms around herself, and nodded.

“Okay,” she said.  “Okay, I’ll - I’ll try.  I mean neither one of us went into this with high expectations, right?”

Well, that fucking hurt.

“I never expected it to be the romance of the fucking century, if that’s what you mean,” he said coldly.  “I’m well aware I have little to offer on that front.  But we were at least good friends.  Can’t we just start with that?”

She sighed, finally meeting his eyes.

“Yeah,” she said softly.  “Look - can you just - can you give me some time?  Just a few days, that’s all.  I need to think.  I know this is hurting you, and - and I don’t want to hurt you.  I never wanted that.”

“What did you think would happen?” he asked.

His voice was gentle rather than accusatory, and she shrugged awkwardly, one shoulder rising and falling.

“I guess - I guess maybe I thought you wouldn’t care too much.  Like maybe it would be a relief.”

“Lacey…”

He stepped forward, cupping her face with his hands and feeling the softness of her skin against his palms.  She wouldn’t meet his eyes, and he bent to kiss her, lips pulling at hers as she rose up on her toes.  Her hands rested at his waist, and when he pulled back she dropped back on her heels, still not looking at him.  He felt his heart sink, but his thumbs stroked her cheeks, wanting to stay close to her, to touch her.

“I don’t want this,” he said quietly.  “I want us to be a family, but I don’t want you to be unhappy, and I’m not gonna force you into anything, okay?  So if you need time, you have it.”

Her lower lip trembled a little, and she caught it with her teeth, nodding.  Her eyes were closed, her body stiff.  He had no idea what she was thinking. Perhaps he never had.  Reading people was in his job description, and yet his own wife was a closed book.  It was bloody depressing.

“I should get back to Nolan’s place,” he said.  “Could we - could we maybe talk when I bring Tilly home?”

Lacey nodded briefly, finally opening her eyes.  There was a troubled expression on her face, and he was desperately afraid that she would change her mind, but she nodded again, resolutely.  He kissed her forehead, a press of lips against her skin, trying to send all the love he could into her.  Hoping she believed it.  Lacey chewed at her lip as he drew back, and he wanted to sigh.

“Right,” he said softly.  “I should go.  I’ll see you on Sunday.”

“Yeah.”

She showed him out, her shoulders a little hunched, as though she was beaten down by whatever burden she was carrying.  He wanted to take it from her, to bear it away and bury it deep, where it would never hurt her.  If only she would let him.

x

Weaver stomped up the path to Nolan’s front door, hands shoved in his pockets and what he knew must be a grim look on his face.  He felt a little better for losing his temper and saying what he damn well felt for a change, but whether it would have the result he wanted was another matter.  He still had no idea what had caused Lacey to push him away in the first place, and part of him was worried that giving her a couple of days before talking about it would only give her time to conjure up some elaborate lie.

Nolan answered the door to him, Wilby shoving a wet nose into his hand as he entered, and he followed Nolan back to the kitchen, hearing the sound of Tilly and Neal playing in the lounge.

“You want a beer?” asked Nolan, opening the fridge door, and Weaver sighed as he dropped onto one of the kitchen chairs.

“Why not?” he said despondently, and nodded his thanks as Nolan tossed a can to him.

“How’d things go with Lacey?”

Weaver popped the top of his beer, drinking about half of it in one go and setting the can on the table with a dull clunk.

“They didn’t,” he said tersely.  “Or at least, I didn’t get to the bottom of what the problem is.”

“But?”

“But I tore up the divorce papers and told her I wouldn’t sign them until I knew what the hell’s going on.”

Nolan took a drink of his own beer, setting the can down on the table and watching Weaver with a knowing look on his face.

“And?”

Weaver grimaced, running a hand through his hair.

“And I told her I bloody loved her, and we had sex again.”

“You know, for two people who broke up, you guys sure have a lot of sex,” remarked Nolan, and Weaver shot him a look.

“Yeah, and every time we do, I end up finding out nothing about what’s up with her,” he growled.  “She does it on purpose, I swear.”

“You really think that’s true?”

He said back in his chair, letting his head roll back with a sigh.

“I don’t know, maybe,” he said resignedly.  “Maybe I should exercise some bloody self-control. I’ve just - I’ve missed her, you know?  I spent bloody decades on my own, but - but I never felt lonely until we weren’t together anymore.  How ridiculous is that?”

“That’s how things are when you find the person you’re meant to be with,” said Nolan, reaching for his beer.  “I’m sure you guys can sort this out.”

“Maybe,” he said tiredly.  “She’s agreed to talk, at least.  I’ll see her when I take Tilly back there on Sunday.”

“And you have no idea what caused all this?”

Weaver shook his head.

“Not a clue,” he said, his voice heavy.  “Maybe she’ll tell me.  Maybe not. Maybe what she’ll tell me will be a pack of lies, and I won’t even see it.”

He ran a hand over his mouth, sighing to himself as he shook his head.

“I can’t read her, Nolan,” he said quietly.  “I have no idea what the hell is going on with her.”

Nolan took a swig of his beer, putting the can down on the table.

“Okay,” he said.  “Let’s look at this from another angle.  Let’s say it wasn’t Lacey, but a regular case.  How would you solve it?”

Weaver shrugged, pulling a face.

“Usually with a case I start with the crime and work backwards to find the suspect,” he said.  “Here I don’t have that.  I have a suspect but no idea what it is they’ve done.  And honestly I don’t like thinking of Lacey in those terms.”

“Look, I’m just giving you a push to think your way out of this,” said Nolan impatiently.  “I’m not suggesting you tap her damn phone.  Just think about what’s out of place right now, and go from there.”

Weaver nodded slowly.

“Alright,” he said.  “I’ll think about it.”

x

He slept little that weekend, lying in bed with his arms behind his head and running over everything that had passed between he and Lacey since he had first noticed something was up.  It didn’t give him much to work on, and he hoped that she would be a little more forthcoming with him when he went over on Sunday.

Having Tilly to stay was a balm for his tortured soul, and he ensured that they spent as much time together as possible, whether going to the park, reading from one of the books she had brought, or making cookies in the kitchen.  He used a packet cookie mix, and a series of plastic cutters in the shape of animals that he bought at the dollar store, but they seemed to turn out alright.

Tilly wanted to take some to Lacey, and so on Sunday evening he found himself waiting on her doorstep with a plastic box in one hand containing a selection of cookies in the shape of elephants, cats and rabbits, messy with white frosting.  Lacey eyed him soberly when she answered the door, but turned on a beaming smile for their daughter, kissing her cheeks and exclaiming over the cookies.  It made him smile.  He left Tilly telling her about their trip to the park while he went to the kitchen, and heard Lacey chattering as she led her through to the bedroom to get ready for bed.

Weaver leaned on the counter, eyeing the clock as the minute hand inched slowly around.  Lacey seemed to be gone for a long time, but he didn’t move, staring sightless at the tiled wall by the kettle.  She had said they would talk, and he intended to hold her to that.  There was a bottle of wine next to the microwave, but he didn’t want to open it, as much as he would have liked to have a glass.  It wasn’t his apartment anymore.

By the time she came back he felt as though his body had frozen, and he turned his head to face her. She had let down her hair, dark curls bouncing around her shoulders, her little black top stretched tight across her breasts. She looked a little thinner, her cheeks more hollow than usual, and he wondered if she was eating properly.

“She’s ready for you to say goodnight,” she said.

He nodded, pushing away from the counter and going through to kiss Tilly goodnight, and when he returned to the kitchen she had opened the wine and poured them both a glass.  He took it with a nod of thanks, taking a swig.  He’d have to make it the one, as he was driving, but then he supposed he could always get a cab, if it came to it.  If things went badly wrong, he could just go to Roni’s bar and drink himself under the table.

Lacey was chewing her lower lip, the way she did when she was thinking about something, and he took another swallow of wine, relishing the slight burn of alcohol in his throat.  After a moment she seemed to reach a decision, and turned towards him, taking a drink and setting her glass on the kitchen counter as she swallowed.

“You were right,” she said abruptly.  “I haven’t really explained things, or told you what’s going through my mind.  I’m not being fair to you, and - and it’s hurting you.”

He was about to say something, but sensed that she wasn’t finished, so pressed his lips together, waiting.  Lacey took a deep breath, raising her chin, and looked at him, her eyes fixing on a point near his left ear.

“You were right that we should try,” she said.  “To make it work, I mean.”

The fingers of ice that had grown around his heart stirred a little, beginning to thaw, and he felt the first, faint stirring of hope.

“I’d like to,” he said gently.  “I want to make it work, Lacey.”

“I know you do.”

Her voice was barely more than a whisper, a flat monotone, as if the fact that he persevered was somehow irritating, but she met his eyes briefly before glancing away again, one toe scuffing at the rug, as though she were ashamed.

“I just - I don’t know how to explain what I’ve been feeling,” she went on.  “I don’t know if I even understand it.  How can I explain it to you if I don’t get it?”

Weaver took a sip of his drink, setting down the glass.

“Well,” he said.  “I think maybe we just need to keep talking.  Just - just say whatever comes into your head, and it’ll all come out.  It might be in a big tangled pile that we need to make sense of, but that’s okay.  At least once it’s out there we can look through it, you know?”

Her mouth twisted, as though she was about to cry, and she shook her head.

“You’re too good to me,” she whispered.  “Too good.  It hurts.”

She rubbed at her chest, and he took a step towards her, inching slowly forwards.  Lacey shook her head, holding up a hand, and he settled back on one foot, giving her space again.

“I’m sorry, I - I’m not good at this,” she said awkwardly.  “Feelings.  Family. Close – relationships.  Any of it.  I’m not used to talking through stuff or letting shit out or - or letting people in.  No one ever really cared enough to try before, or was prepared to listen to me anyway.”

He wanted to speak, to tell her that he cared, that he would listen, but she was still talking, so he remained silent.

“So - so I know this hasn’t exactly been a healthy coping mechanism, just shutting you out, but it’s kind of the best I can do,” she went on.  “Before we were together, I – well, if things got too much I always ran away rather than face them, because I’m a fucking coward.”

“You’re the least cowardly person I know.”

Lacey pulled a face.

“No, I am,” she insisted.  “And I’ve been selfish, trying to force you to do things my way, to take the easy way out.  I suck at facing shit, at - at dealing.  And - and that’s not your fault, or Tilly’s.  It’s only ever been mine.”

He was silent, watching her.  She was bouncing on her toes a little, the way she did when she was uncomfortable and wanted to be anywhere but there. God, he didn’t want her to take off again.  He didn’t think she would, but he was well aware that if it hadn’t been for Tilly, he would never have seen her again after the first time they had sex.  The thought was unbelievably painful.

“I - I can’t promise anything,” she went on.  “But I’ll try, okay?  I just need some time to myself, so - so I can’t have you moving back in just now.”

Weaver blinked.

“Alright,” he said.  “I never expected that, anyway.  I know this isn’t gonna be resolved with a cup of tea and a frenzied fuck.”

“Yeah,” she whispered.  “Pretty sure we already did that last part.”

There was silence for a moment, and he tried to think of something to say that would give at least one of them some comfort.

“Well, we can keep the same arrangement with Tilly for now,” he said.  “I’ll take her Wednesday night until Friday this week, okay?  And - and you and I can maybe start to talk through things.  Maybe we could get Roni to watch her one evening, so we can do that.  We could have dinner, or—”

He cut off as her mouth twisted, as though the idea was repulsive to her, but to his surprise she nodded.

“Yeah, maybe,” she said quietly.  “We’ll see how things go, I guess.  I could - I could bring you lunch or something.  Like I used to.”

The faintest of smiles curled his lips, and he nodded.

“I’d like that.”

More silence.  He had never before appreciated how loud the kitchen clock was.

“Lacey,” he said quietly.  “What do you feel for me?”

She hesitated, not looking at him.

“You know how I feel,” she muttered.

“If I’d been asked that six months ago, I would have said yes.”  He put his hands on his hips, squaring his jaw.  “Since then you asked me to move out and told me you wanted to get divorced, so you’ll forgive me if I’m having a crisis of confidence.”

Lacey sighed at the tone of his voice, her mouth flattening, and her eyes flicked across to meet his.  His mouth was set in a grim line, his brows drawn down a little over dark eyes, and she felt that familiar lurch in her belly at the sight of him.  He always looked good to her, but even more so when he was angry and trying not to show it, when his emotions were raw and hard.  She closed her eyes for a moment at the brief memory of his mouth on hers, his body pressing down on her, inside her.  It made her want to step into his arms and take him into the bedroom they had once shared and forget about everything that had happened those past few months.  She opened her eyes again, and he was watching her, the low-level anger dissipating into something worse, a heavy cloak of sadness and regret wrapping around him.

“I - I care about you,” she said softly.  “I care about you a lot, okay?  And I don’t want to hurt you.  I’m just - I’m afraid that’s all I do, is hurt you.  All I’ve ever done.”

“That’s not true, sweetheart, God knows…”  He ran a hand through his hair.  “You - you make me laugh, and you challenge me, and - and you light up my life just by being part of it, I swear.”

Guilt gnawed at her, making her eyes sting with tears, and Weaver sighed.

“Look, maybe we got together under less than ideal circumstances, but that doesn’t change how I feel now,” he said.  “We may not have felt we were love at first sight, but I love you now, okay?  I love you so, so much!”

His eyes were pleading, his smile a little desperate, and it felt as though she was being stabbed, a hard, sharp pain in her chest, digging and twisting.

“And - and it’s - alright, if you don’t feel the same way,” he said gently.  “I mean why would you, anyway?  I’m a mess.”

He chuckled hollowly, and her mouth twisted, two tears tracking down her cheeks.

“You’re not,” she whispered.  “You’re the best man I know.  The best I’ve ever known.”

“I get the impression that the competition isn’t exactly fierce,” he said, and put his hands on her shoulders as she bit back a sob.

He drew her to him, a soft press of his fingers on her shoulders, and she let her hands rest at his waist, shuffling forwards until they were touching.  Weaver pressed his lips to her forehead, which made her want to cry again, so she laid her head against his chest with a shuddering sigh as his arms wrapped around her.

“Lacey,” he said quietly.  “I’m not gonna lie to you, this whole thing has hurt like fuck.”

She nodded miserably.  She knew that, of course.

“I’m well aware that we have some things to work through, even if I’m not completely sure what those are,” he went on.  “Getting through it is probably gonna hurt like fuck too, but - but it hurts me more to be apart from you and Tilly, okay?”

She nodded, and he tightened his grip around her.  It felt nice, to be in his arms again.  To be held by him, as though she was worth something.

“And you?” he asked, his voice a low buzz rumbling through his chest.  “Does it hurt you, the thought of us being together?”

Lacey rubbed her nose against him, breathing in his familiar scent.

“I’m not sure what hurts right now,” she said, her voice dull.  “I’m not sure I can feel anything.”

He kissed the top of her head, lips pressing against her hair.

“Then tell me how I can help,” he said, and she pushed back a little, raising her head to meet his eyes.

“Stay with me,” she said.  “Stay with me tonight.”

[dean-the-smol-bean]

Snow Day

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Characters: Reader, Dean, Sam (mentioned)

Word count: 2.1k

Request: Hmm what about reader and Sam and Dean, and reader is stir-crazy because it's been raining all week and is bored. Then somehow it turns into cuddles and relaxation. (by @princess-of-erebor1992 )

Warnings: none really. a bit of cursing. innuendos?

A/N: Anyone who knows me- or has really ever looked at my blog even once- will find it no surprise that I chose Dean for this. He’s my main squeeze. (I like writing Cas next, and then Sam- I can and will write him, just personally, I feel like he’s such a brotherly type! (that said don’t hesitate to request him)

Send me a request and help me get out of my writing funk!

Send me an ask if you want to be added to one of my tag lists (Dean, Sam, Cas, forever, etc!)

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   “Jesus,” you sighed, your breath fanning out and creating a foggy cloud across the thin barrier of glass that separated you and the raging storm outside. 

   The snow roared, whipping and swirling around everything, making it impossible to see. You pulled your sweater tighter around yourself, shaking your head at the icy beast encompassing the city just outside your motel window. 

   “Ok. Keep me updated.” 

   You turned your gaze to the man across the room from you. Dean clicked his phone off, pocketing it and pushing himself up from where he leaned against the counter of the kitchenette. He made his way over to you. 

   “Sam okay?” you worried, and Dean nodded. 

   “He got to the Library just before the storm came in. He’s stuck, but he’s in. I’d say I feel bad, but I swear he’s loving this, the damn geek.” 

   You laughed, turning back to the window. Dean took a seat across from you.

   “He’s not the only one who’s stuck. It’s crazy out there- what, are we on Hoth?” 

   Dean chuckled. 

   “Now who’s the geek?” 

   You cast your eyes sideways, pouting at him. A silence fell over the both of you, comfortable and warm despite the ice forming on the outer edge of the window just beside you. 

   “s’kinda beautiful, you know?” 

   You watched the storm outside as it flourished, fell, burst and combusted all before your eyes. 

   Deans traced his gaze over the features of your face. Down the arch of your nose, over the soft flesh of your cheeks, across pink, slightly chapped lips. He cleared his throat, quickly averting his gaze to the white wall on the other side of the window, seemingly bland now. 

   “Yeah- uh, yeah. It is.”

   It was quiet for the moment and all you could hear was the wind roaring beyond your comfortable walls.

   “What do you say we make some cocoa? No better time.” 

   Dean pushed himself from his seat eagerly, walking back over to the kitchenette and pulling one of the cabinets open. 

   “Hell yeah. I’ve always wanted to snuggle up with some hot cocoa on a snowy day.”

   Dean frowned as he pulled out a box of complimentary instant teas, coffees and chocolates. 

   “Haven’t you?”

   You pushed yourself from your seat as well, making your way over to him. 

  “Nah. Never had’em where I grew up- wasn’t really snow weather. It was all dust and cactus where I’m from.”

   He pulled the plastic sheathes off of two disposable warm drink cups.

   “So no snowball fights? Fighting over the best blanket? Snow days?”

   You smiled as seemingly genuine despair spread across the grown man's face.    

   “Not a one.”

   Dean huffed, handing you a paper packet of cocoa powder and a cup. You tore its top seam away, sighing at the familiar smell. 

   “Well, we simply can’t have that, Ms. Y/L/N.” he picked up the pitcher from the coffee maker, walking over to the sink, and beginning to fill it. “Consider this your first official snow day.” 

   You laughed, pouring your packet into the bottom of your cup. The powder puffed up at the sides, sending a cloud of chocolate up into the air. You waved it away, shaking your cup to level it out, tiny artificial marshmallows revealing themselves in the mound of sepia powder.

   “Do all of them take place in an old ratty motel room?” you teased. He came back to your side, the pitcher full of water. He placed it on the machine. 

   “For me?” he pressed the button at the top of the coffee maker and it whirred to life, a little red light beginning to blink with the word ‘HEAT’ cheaply painted next to it began to blink. “Definitely.”

   “So, Mr. Winchester, what do we do on snow days such as these beside drink hot cocoa and stare out the window?”

   You settled yourself onto Sams bed- it’d originally been your turn to take the couch tonight, but Sam was off at the library probably nose deep in some old book that no ones touched in 50 years, so you overruled. 

   “Well, first and foremost, we make a fort.” 

   Your eyebrows shot up at him. 

   “Seriously?” you laughed, sure he had to be joking.

   “As I’ve ever been. Come on, it’s freezing out, we’re stuck inside for who knows how long so we’ve got plenty of time to kill- it only makes sense that what follows would be-”

   “-A fort,” you interjected, still not sure if you were hearing the 6′3″, 200-pound hunter in front of you correctly. 

   He grinned, and for a moment, you saw that carefree, childlike Dean that you always knew was hiding under all that angst. 

   “A fort,” he repeated. 

   You shook your head, unable to stop a grin from infiltrating your cheeks. 

   “Alright then. Fort it is.”

   “You were right, this is pretty awesome.” 

   Settling yourself in comfortably, you took in your surroundings. Using the space between the beds, you stretched the sheets up and over your heads, tucking it up against the headboard and under the mattress to create a tent shape. You took every remaining pillow and blanket and created a cocoon of cozy. You’d even taken the liberty to bring the TV to the floor and stretch the blanket over that. 

   “I know. I’m always right.” 

   You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the fact that Dean was laying just inches away from you, the henley that he used as a pajama shirt hugging him impossibly perfectly, his body radiating heat, just asking to be touched. 

   You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore your wandering mind. He was your best friend. Not your boyfriend. 

   “Yeah, you were super right last month when you ‘knew exactly where you were going’.” you raised your voice and made a face, mocking him. 

   “Oh my god, you and Sam are gonna hold that against me forever, aren’t you?”

   You giggled, biting your lip.

   “Oh yeah. I’m gonna be teasing you for the rest of time.” 

   Dean rolled his eyes, cocking an eyebrow at you.

   “You wish.” 

   It took you a second, but your eyes widened, coral blush spreading across your cheeks. A silence fell. 

   “What do you say we find something to watch?” He stuttered.

   “Yeah, yeah. TV. Let’s just uh, put something on.” 

   You eagerly picked up the remote, pointing it at the TV and pressing power.

   The TV sizzled to life, a newscaster flashing across the screen for approximately one second, and then-

   The TV clicked off, and with it went all the lights in the room and the heater. 

   You both laid there for a moment, stuck in the headlights of the idea that all the power- most importantly the heater- was suddenly gone. 

   “Shit.” Dean breathed, and you both sat up, tops of your heads pushing at the fabric of your tent. 

   “Does this... usually happen on snow days?” 

   Dean huffed.

   “Not... particularly.” 

   “But, we’ll be okay, right? It’ll come back on soon, right? it has to., right?”

   Dean pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, crawling out from the tent and grabbing his phone. You watched him open it up, glancing at the screen, his brow furrowed. 

   “Uhhhhhh... right.”

   You groaned, falling back against your pillows. Not a promising response. 

   “Hey, hey, it’ll be fine! Look, this fort's good for more than one thing,” he shoved his phone into his back pocket, crawling back inside. “All these blankets in this little cocoon- it’ll keep us warm enough until the power comes back on. Here,” he began pulling at the blankets, covering you with as many as he could manage. “And uhh... oh! Look,” 

   He crawled back out, and despite the fact that you were already beginning to shiver, you smiled, watching as he went full mom mode.

   He came back around a few seconds later, and you frowned, pushing yourself up on your elbows. 

   “No way.” You scolded, watching as he crawled back inside a second time, bundles of candles you used for rituals from time to time cradled in his arms.

   “What?” he questioned as if he weren’t about to light a bunch of fires in a pile of cloth. 

   “What do you mean ‘what’? Dean, you can’t light candles in here!” 

   He ignored you, beginning to place them on open spaces around the fort, namely above your heads, in and around the side table that stood between the two beds. 

   “Pshhh, we’ll be fine! Live a little, Y/N! We hunt monsters for a living and you’re afraid of a couple scented candles?”

    You frowned, pursing your lips at him. 

   “Fine. But if I catch on fire and die, I’m blaming you.”

   He laughed, pulling out his lighter and flicking it to life.

   “Fine by me. At least you won’t be cold anymore.” 

   Ten minutes later, all the candles were lit, and strategically placed in the least dangerous spots you could manage. When he’d finished, Dean had slid under the covers next to you, burying himself deep inside the chrysalis of comfort you had created. 

   Despite the circumstances, you were fairly warm- well, as warm as you could be, lying on the floor in a pile of blankets with no power during a snowstorm. 

   However, there was one other thing you could do to get even warmer, and you had a feeling you were both thinking it. 

   Who was going to be the first to suggest it, however, was a much different story. 

   You lay in silence for a little while, just staring up at the shadows cast by the candles, dancing across the sheet above you, trying to ignore the fact that the glow they created made Dean look exceptionally beautiful. 

   You could feel how warm he was without even touching him- the man was a damn space heater. You could just imagine what it would be like to reach over, pull him close and bury yourself in him. It would be that easy...

   But you couldn’t. You’ve had some more than friendly feelings for the man for who knows how long now, and you didn’t want to put yourself through wrapping yourself in his arms, letting your mind get caught up in the fantasy when you knew it was never going to happen.

   A particularly harsh cold brushed through you, and you shivered roughly, teeth clacking together cartoonishly.

   “Alright, fuck it, this is ridiculous. C’mere.” 

   You sucked in a breath, staring wide-eyed at the man next to you. He’d pulled up the blankets, opening up his arms and offering a space for you to scoot closer. You swallowed.

   “Oh... you don’t have to-”

   “Yes, I do. You’ve been shaking over there for the past fifteen minutes. I’m freezing too, alright, so it just makes sense that we should, you know, share our body heat.” 

   You looked him up and down hesitantly for a moment, before nodding. 

   “Alright. Yeah.”

   You pushed back your covers a bit, proceeding to scoot yourself over, inch by inch, until you were pressed up against his chest. He dropped his arm, wrapping it and the blanket around you. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest, softer than you had imagined. Without thinking, you curled yourself inwards, eager for more warmth. 

   “See?” He quipped, voice slightly hoarse. “Better, right?” 

   You nodded, hoping to god he couldn’t feel the rapid thrumming of your heart. 

   “Much. Thanks.”

   He cleared his throat a bit. 

   “No problem.” 

   You remained silent for a while, trying to come to terms with the idea that you were curled up in his arms and dammit- if it didn’t feel like you fit there perfectly. 

   You took a deep breath, trying to distract yourself. 

   “You know... I could get used to this.” 

   You pushed your head up so that you were looking directly at him. 

   “What do you mean?”

   You could feel his breath fanning across your lips, impossibly close as you lay tangled together. 

   “You know... just... you and me... us... togeth... ah, fuck it.” 

   Suddenly, his lips were on yours. Your breath hitched in your throat, and it took you a second to register that this was really fucking happening, but as soon as it did, you reciprocated, running your hand through his impossibly silky soft hair, tightening your grip on his shirt.

   Your mouthes seemed to fit together just as perfectly as your bodies did.

   After a moment, you pulled away, lips plump and breaths short. 

   “I uh... I’m not always the best with words and... I just wanted to... you just...”

   You cut him off yourself this time, pulling his lips back to yours.

   “Just shut up and kiss me,”

   You definitely didn’t have to worry about keeping warm anymore. 

[dragonshost]

Back To The Start

Chapter 1: Resolution

Pairing: Acnologia x Lucy

On FFN:

On AO3:

Summary:  Lucy has lost everything she ever cared for, all thanks to the black dragon of the apocalypse. So, with the help of two old journals belonging to her ancestor Anna and a dragon slayer 400 years dead, she will find out the secret to Acnologia's defeat. No matter the personal cost.

Dedicated to @tammyscythe - I hope you enjoy the first chapter of your giveaway prize.  I’m sorry that it took me a full year to get this posted.

This fic is going to be chock full of headcanons, and largely ignore whatever is in Dragon Cry.

Enjoy.

Heaving a sigh, Lucy pushed back from her desk, chair wheels squeaking on the plastic floor cover. Rubbing her eyes, she let out a yawn. "That's it!" she stated. "I'm done for the day! No more!"

Behind her, at his own desk, her supervisor laughed. "Calling it a night?"

"Yeah. Couldn't write another word if I tried." Lucy stretched, her joints creaking as if she were eighty instead of eighteen. For good measure, she flexed her hands and wrists. Soreness had long since set into them, and it was a relief to put down her pen at last.

Without looking up from his own work, Jason passed her a ceramic mug. "Mind filling this up before you head out?"

"Sure thing." Plucking the mug from Jason's fingers, Lucy grabbed her own mug and stood up. A short walk, and she was at the break room in Sorcerer Weekly's headquarters. After she placed her mug in the dishwasher, she eyed the brown sludge that remained in the coffee pot. Long since cold, the grounds had congealed and were starting to smell funny. The liquid didn't seem much better.

"Getting you tea instead!" she called out across the empty bullpen, sticking her head around the corner of the breakroom door. "The coffee's no good!"

A thumbs up was raised above the partition in acknowledgement.

Lucy gave the cup a quick rinse, then dropped a tea bag in, and poured hot water from the water dispenser on top of it. While it steeped on the counter, she popped lid off the coffeepot, removing the filter and grounds and tossing them in the trash. Thankfully the building cleaners hadn't arrived yet. One quick scrub later and it was back where it belonged.

Removing the tea bag, she dumped two packets of sugar in. Jason would need the extra boost, and after two weeks of working with him, Lucy had come to notice that he had a sweet tooth that could almost put Erza's to shame.

The thought of her redheaded friend sent a pang of loneliness through her chest.

But Lucy ignored it, grabbing the mug and walking back to her desk.

"Thanks, you're the coolest." Jason finally looked up from his article-in-progress, and watched as Lucy gathered her coat and keys. "Finally getting used to the odd hours?"

Lucy smiled wearily at him. "I always kinda kept weird hours, so the adjustment was pretty easy."

"That's good! When do you think you'll have the research ready for that report on Boscan mage guilds ready for me?"

"Hmm... tomorrow afternoon, if I really crack down on it."

Jason beamed. "Cool! That'll be perfect. See you tomorrow, and take care on your way home!"

"I will. Bye, Jason."

Leaving the office, Lucy stopped at looked at the sky overhead. It was almost completely dark out, and Crocus's streetlights blazed against the night sky - too bright for her to see any stars.

Her footsteps dragged as she made her way to the train station. It wasn't too far from the office, which was nice, she mused. So were the bento lunches sold in the kiosk by the platforms. Lucy purchased one, before hopping on her train to Magnolia. She ate it silently as the train pulled away from the platform.

The scenery began to flow into the night, a formless blur as the train picked up speed. If she were being honest, the food tasted much the same. Lucy couldn't remember the last time food had excited her. She patted her stomach. She'd lost some weight recently, with her appetite mostly gone.

Three weeks ago, that thought would have made her happy. But for some reason, she couldn't seem to stir herself to the emotion.

She threw away her bento box, only half eaten.

Lucy stared out the window, her gaze unfocused and unseeing, even if there was some way she could see the world outside the train. She yawned widely - the steady thrum of the moving vehicle lulling her into drowsiness. With a shake of her head, Lucy held back another yawn. She wished Crocus wasn't so far from Magnolia - the three hour-long commute each way was brutal.

Maybe it was time for her to look for an apartment close to the office.

Maybe it was time to accept the fact that there was no one she loved still in Magnolia.

Maybe it was time she stopped waiting for people who weren't coming back.

"Now pulling into Magnolia Station."

Lucy jolted in her seat at the announcement, having dozed off despite her best efforts at staying awake. She gathered her things in a hurry, just barely ready to go by the time the train doors opened with a hiss.

Magnolia was quiet this time of night, and the streets were mostly empty. Light and sound still spilled out of the taverns, but they were the only source of life along Lucy's route home. Her feet thudded on the pavement, carrying her swiftly past the pools on light that spilled out the doorways. The sounds grated on her, and her head spun. Focusing on the ground, Lucy picked up her pace a little more, nausea swimming inside her. Soon the sounds of the taverns were behind her, as she entered the residential district and turned onto her street.

Once in front of her apartment, she reached for her key. Her fingertips brushed against the cool metal of her keyring, and Lucy found herself fighting against another wave of nausea. She gagged, and furiously fumbled keys in her hands, hands shaking as she found her apartment key and tried to get it into the lock. Missing twice, she got it into the keyhole on the third try. Pushing the door open, she rushed into her apartment, and to the toilet where she vomited what little she'd managed to eat.

She knelt on the cool tile, hands clutching the porcelain and breathing heavily.

“Princess,” a soft voice called behind her.

Lucy squeezed her eyes shut, steadfastly ignored her concerned spirit.

“Princess.  I have prepared a fresh change of clothes for you, along with a hot towel and a glass of water to cleanse your mouth.”

“Virgo,” Lucy whispered hoarsely, unable to raise her voice any higher.  “Thank you.”

“You are most welcome. However, I believe you are suffering from acute exhaustion, and that you should take the day off tomorrow to recuperate.”

“I can’t.  I have a report to hand in.”  Gratefully, Lucy took the water from her spirit.  She held the water in her mouth without swallowing, swirling it around and then spitting it out into the toilet.  Then she took the towel, wiping her face as she flushed the vomit away.  “I promised. I can’t… I can’t break anymore promises, Virgo.”  Her voice cracked.  “I can’t!”

The spirit sat down beside her, and held her while she cried.  “You didn’t, Lucy,” she consoled, gently rubbing Lucy’s back.  “You didn’t break any promises to Aquarius.”

“I did!  She was my spirit!  I… I sacrificed her, Virgo!  What kind of…” She hiccupped.  “What kind of celestial wizard does that?”

“You had no choice; Aquarius made the decision.  You didn’t betray anyone.  Not us. Not her.  Letting your friends die would have been the betrayal, and thanks to you it didn’t happen.”

A wail warbled out of Lucy’s throat, as broken as her heart.  “Then why are they still gone?!”

Virgo had no answer for that.  She continued to hold Lucy, until she cried herself out and fell asleep in the spirit’s arms.  Once she had, she changed her clothes, then picked her up and tucked her into bed.

Lucy watched herself struggle against the demons.  She shouted, and sobbed as Aquarius vanished in a shower of golden light.  Pounded at the walls of the invisible bubble from which she observed, screaming for Aquarius to come back, to rewind time, for anything that could return here friend to her.

But just as before the spirit was gone, and there was nothing Lucy could do about it.

Her eyes streamed with tears, as she watched her friends fight for their lives against Tartaros.  Trembled, when she felt the boneshaking roar echoing in the dark sky.  Wings of darkness filled the sky, and suddenly she was no longer watching him combat the red dragon, but staring down its maw as it consumed Tenrou.  She was paralyzed with fear, her legs unable to move and the bubble that prevented her from helping her friends no detriment to the dragon’s wrath.

Then the red dragon fell from the sky, a gaping hole in its midsection.

Lucy screamed and cried for Igneel, but mostly for Natsu. His father falling, dying.

Nothing Lucy could do to stop it.

Her arms were covered in blood, as a man laughed over her death. Palace tile merging with the rubble left in Tartaros’s wake, her own corpse lying broken on top of it.

When Lucy was jolted violently from sleep, she promptly turned over and grabbed a bowl lying on the floor beside her bed, then vomited into it.

It wasn’t long before Virgo appeared.  She gently wiped Lucy’s face with another hot towel, and removed the bowl for cleaning. “I will let your work know that you’re not coming in today,” the spirit told her softly.  To which Lucy could only nod weakly in agreement.

Everything was gone. Everything she loved, vanished like water droplets thrown at a fire, evaporated to nothing.

Her mother, her father, Aquarius, the guild, her friends.  Gone.

Natsu.

It was as if the black dragon had blasted a hole through her, as well.  A void through which her friends had fallen.

Everything was that dragon’s fault.  It had prevented her from having a relationship with her father, from being there when he died.  It had led to Future Rogue destroying the future with his own hands, and trying to eliminate any chance of hers.  It had brought down Igneel, whom Natsu had searched for, for so long.

“Princess,” Virgo announced, returning to Lucy’s side.  “Your boss said to take all the time you need – he’d make do with what you left behind.”

Left behind.

Lucy was rubble.

And it was all the fault of that dragon.

“Virgo.”  The spirit nodded in acknowledgement.  “I think… I think Erza mentioned… a library.  Where is it?”

“I presume you mean the Sorcery Library,” she intoned.  “It’s not far from Magnolia.  Half a day’s walk.  But you can’t mean to go when you’re in this condition, Princess.”

Lucy shook her head. “I don’t think I can stomach travel today.”  Her smile at Virgo was wobbly.  “But I’m taking tomorrow off as well.  Maybe… maybe more than just tomorrow.”

The pink haired spirit stared long and hard at her key holder, her friend that was pushing herself too hard.  “Is it too much to hope for that you’ll take the time to rest?”

“I can’t afford to,” Lucy informed her.  “That dragon is still out there, Virgo.  He took everything away from me.  He’s terrorized this world for too long.  But he must have a weakness.  Somewhere. I’m going to find it, and help my friends and stop him from hurting anyone ever again.”

She took a deep breath.

“I’m going to find a way to kill the black dragon, Acnologia.”

[writerman]

Power and Control-|| ArdynxRavus

Chapter One

A shrieking alarm dragged Ravus from the land of sleep, with a groan he grabs his phone and taps the screen, while squinting at the brightness, in a desperate bid to cease the wailing.

 Head falling back against his pillow, Ravus took a moment to collect himself from his racing heart at being woken so abruptly. How long had it been since he had slept so deeply that his alarm actually woke him?

 Rather than dwell on it any longer than he needed to, he got up with the intention of getting ready for his job as TA at a prestigious high school. It was NOT what he wanted to be doing in his late 20’s but he was given the job as a favour from the headmaster who was close to his family. All he really did was help kids with math and English in study hall and covered classes when other teachers were sick. It wasn’t a hard job and the kids… actually seemed to like him.

 The whitehaired man picked his way through the bedroom picking up various articles of clothing and inspecting whether or not they could be worn for work.

 Eventually he found a pair of grey jeans, a white t shirt and a, slightly wrinkled, blazer a shade or two darker than his jeans that passed the stain test with flying colours which made him think that maybe it was new and he had just throwing it on the floor one morning when he was in a hurry, like always.

 Standing in the bathroom, the naked bulb illuminating his tired face, he grabbed the toothbrush from the little cup on the side of his sink and averted his gaze from the dark bags under his eyes and busied himself with getting somewhat fresh for his job.

 A feeble beep from the kitchen reminded him that he needed more coffee for his machine, the pot that was being poured out now was the last of it, he would need to stop off at some store and grab more, though this was the least of his problems.

 Checking the state of the outside world through his kitchen window, he found that it had snowed heavily and would need to leave that very second to dig his car out, with a huff of irritation he poured coffee into a travel mug, taking his sweet ass time as he did so.

 If he was late for work someone would cover for him, Loqi probably, the guy that ran the reception like it was a night club cloakroom would definitely cover his ass while he made his way to work, rolling his eyes at the time as though that changed anything, he headed out.

 At first he thought he had imagined the snow piled over his car earlier, until he heard the tell-tale sound of a shovel scraping over tarmac.

 Walking around his car, expecting the worst, he found his neighbour, Aranea. She merely saluted him in greeting as she chucked a shovel full of snow over her shoulder and onto the pile behind her. Ravus wasn’t sure what had made her want to do this, usually they didn’t speak much, and when they did they shared a beer and only talked about car parts for his ailing Nissan 300Zx from the 90’s.

 It was really the only friendship he could honestly say he had but they weren’t close… not by a long shot. He had never confided in her about anything, she didn’t even know his surname. Or even that that he was the estranged eldest child of an aristocratic family that, by the way, was mired in such darkness, that even with all the old money and all blood diamonds they possessed could not buy them out of the infamy that was the name Nox Fleuret.

 So, Aranea had dug out his car without any hesitation on her part, it seemed, and Ravus was not going to be late for work… well as late.

 “Let me guess, I owe you a beer now?” Before the blond could even respond someone from behind Aranea called out, the door to the little house opened and Gentiana, Aranea’s wife steps out with a plastic box in her hands.

 “Ravus, I’m pleased I got you before you left for work, my plan for Aranea to help you and slow you down worked. I made too much for dinner last night, please take it to work and have it for lunch, ok?” Her tone was kind and yet insistent, even if he had wanted too, which he did not, he could not deny Gentiana.

 “Great, we adopted a 28-year-old son with a bad attitude and a smoking habit” This was all his blond friend could say as Ravus hopped in the car with the Tupperware under his arm. He wound the window down as he started the car.

 “Thanks for lunch, Gentiana. Aranea, beer tonight at 8 usual place?” His friend nodded and he screeched out of his drive way tearing down the road, absolutely over the speed limit, which he kept up all the way to work.

Luckily classes started at 9:15 and when he arrived at 9 he thanked whatever Gods supposedly existed, his good mood plummeting as he is blocked from his parking space due to a cherry red 1965 MG Spider, it gleamed under the weak winter sun almost mocking the TA.

 Growling under his breath Ravus pulled into the student parking lot, luckily most of the kids were dropped off by chauffer driven luxury car, so it was easy to get a spot but it was further to walk to the office.

 Loqi greeted him cheerfully, Ravus pointedly ignored him as he stalked into the staffroom with a face like thunder, his frown was intimidating to most which meant he could hopefully get the idiot in his pot to move their stupid car.

 “Who, may I ask, is the jackass that has parked their damn car in my spot?” The staffroom falls silent, Ravus usually did not speak, when he did it was merely to answer questions someone asked, always quiet and always so polite… well.

 Ravus had felt a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach when he had seen the car, but had brushed it off as anger when he had first arrived, but that vehicle was too familiar and he hoped with all his being that it was not who he believed it was.

 Regis, the headmaster, cleared his throat as he approached Ravus looking, somewhat, amused. Resting a hand on the TA’s shoulder he turned him round to face someone, a smug son of bitch type of smile on his lips as he nodded his head to Ravus, who was stood mouth dry, heart thudding as the sound in the room faded.

 No.

 Not him.

 “Ravus, you are aware we have invited a university professor to work with us for a few weeks, you agreed to help him out should he need anything. Let me introduce you to-“ Regis was stopped mid-sentence by the visiting professor raising his hand to speak, and by the fact Ravus was visibly shaking with anger.

 “You, sir, throw yourself off a damned cliff!” Ravus, now pointing at the professor, whispered violently before turning on his heel and stalking off without even so much as an explanation.

 With shaking hands Ravus pulled the packet of cigarettes from his pocket along with a near empty lighter and stormed out past Loqi in the lobby who had detained a few late students, he threw the doors open and stumbled down the steps through the snow and behind a tree to smoke.

 It wasn’t that he disliked the professor that visited, he didn’t know him as well as he once had to truly still hate him, but memories followed him and at times that man was the reason he could not sleep at night, it was absolutely unfair of life to throw this at him now.

 His phone vibrated in his pocket he wanted to ignore it but it was likely something important, his mother or father calling to be reassured that he still had a job, or he wasn’t dead- the usual things parents called about when they had unruly offspring ruining their reputation in high society.

 The ID was a number he did not recognise most of the time this was a decent excuse to ignore the call but knowing his luck it would be hugely important, so with irritated huff he answered it.

 “Hello?”

 “Ah, so you really are still using the same number.”

 It was him, that damned… Ravus took a long drag from his cigarette and glanced from behind the tree, the professor was stood on the steps of the school eyes trained on Ravus’ smoking spot, the teaching assistant moved to hide himself away again.

 “what the f u c k are you doing here?”

 “Now, now. There’s absolutely no need to be so childish, I thought at your age you would have grown up at least enough to be respectful and civil to an old friend…” The way he said friend was far too suggestive and Ravus wanted nothing more than to punch him, punch him right in the face and maybe bust his nose.

 “Listen, old man. I am already tired of your antics and you’ve just shown up. I’m not sticking around to see you ruin this place and for me to lose my job so just make some excuse and leave.” He was behaving so out of character, usually when people bothered him he would simply avoid that person unless absolutely necessary and speak the minimal amount to them should he have to have some kind of conversation with said person.

 But no, this man had always brought out the worst in him, and it was a lie when he believed he could not still hate him, because he did. Passionately.

 “Ardyn, seriously just fuck off.”

 He hung up, sadly, as he moved from behind the tree he was caught by the wrist and pulled backwards. He may have had hs back to him but he knew damn well that the chest he had just been pulled into was none other than Professor Izunia.

 A hot breath in his ear before the other spoke. An unwelcome shiver ran down Ravus’ spine and he struggled to pull away.

 “Don’t tell me you haven’t missed me, not even the most minuscule amount?”

[nlc-nessa]

Taking Root

When a plant is pulled from the earth, their tie to life is not immediately severed. It is possible to keep them breathing for just a while longer, but only if they are nursed and cherished until they decide to take root in a new pot of soil. Take for example, the food scraps that cluttered my balcony floor. Various bulbs and root ends from my kitchen lived in plastic containers with jagged holes poked through the bottom, nestled in store-bought soil and haphazardly watered every now and then. The constant squatting was a chore, so I always gave them a quick sprinkle of tap water and prayed for stray drizzles of rain to finish the job for me. This hasty behaviour killed my parsley sprouts within a week. I never tried growing them again after that.

I must confess, this hobby wasn’t born from a compulsion to go green and save the earth. I started growing these discarded parts solely to fulfil my itching need to be some sort of a God, to be able to take control over something amidst the intractable pandemic. I yearned to watch something grow, something animate yet helpless enough for me to force my love onto. This desire had once grown so strong that I was tempted to kidnap unsuspecting snails who slithered out on rainy days. Fortunately for the innocent creatures, I never mustered the courage to pluck one off the damp cement. I had considered adopting other palm-sized animals such as terrapins or hamsters, but their prospective deaths swayed me from the idea of getting too attached to anything considerably cute. So, I thought: why not try to revive a dead thing instead? My first pet was a head of garlic whose sprouts grew monstrously fast and gave a pleasant aroma when stir fried with scrambled eggs and fish sauce. Spring onions came next, followed by some mint, ginger, and parsley. Over time, my army of resurrected supermarket veggies inhabited the right-most corner of our balcony – the only place in our house where direct sunlight could reach us. It was, unfortunately, also the space my retired father always occupied, peeping into neighbouring blocks and smoking his Camel cigarettes. I could sense his frustration every time he tiptoed through my plants to get to his usual spot, but he never asked for them to be moved. Mint leaves would tickle his feet as he puffed away, hunching over the railings and forcing every noxious cloud outwards and away from our living room. Sometimes I did pity the old man to see him compete with the puny sprouts for sunlight, but I told myself that if it were truly a problem, he would speak to me about it. He never did. At times I caught him peering down at the containers, looking for mosquito larvae to evict or perhaps devising a plan to murder them all in a feat to regain his territory. I had heard, on multiple occasions, the “accidental” kick of a pot followed by an exaggerated tsk and the cracking of knees as my father bent down to inspect for damage. I would hear him mumbling incoherently to himself afterwards, probably cursing at my scraps for being too stubborn to die. That’s just how we lived as adults – my father and I trudging around conflict because the two of us would rather simmer in mild annoyance than confront each other about our feelings.

Everything changed one night when a parcel arrived at our house. I didn’t think much about it as we would receive at least one parcel each week, all with the same cardboard packaging with the sender’s address printed in Chinese.

“So late then come,” my father complained as he hobbled to the door while the bell endlessly rang. He was proud of his latest installation: a doorbell that chimed a shrilly, robotic jingle of “Auld Lang Syne”, reminiscent of the nasally sounds emitted from battery-operated lanterns children play with during the Mid-Autumn Festival. My father hacked the doorbell to make sure the piercing tune did not stop until the front door was opened. It was his solution to rid my habit of pretending not to hear the bell in hopes of him answering the door first. His crazy idea worked because I hated that song, and he bloody loved it. So, it was a surprise to see him reach the door before I even planted my feet on the ground. I watched from the sofa as he signed the delivery order and dragged the oblong package to the living room. He bent forwards and the box slipped from his fingertips, landing on the tiles with a chilling clank. The smell of tobacco smoke wafted from his silver hair, irritating my nostrils.  

“Girl, open for me,” he said. Leaving the parcel at my feet, he went to the kitchen to pour himself a cold drink, as if the mere act of hauling the box ten steps from the gate had rendered him parched.  

“My penknife is behind the TV.”

With my eyes glued back at the screen, I forced myself off the sofa and shoved the package aside with my toes, airing my unhappiness to my offbeat father whose online shopping habits were getting out of hand. I thought I had done myself a favour by showing him how to shop for his own products online, but it disgracefully spiralled into an obsession for cheap junk. He’d always make me open the larger packages due to his bad back, and who was I to refuse a droopy old man?

With my armpit pressed against the warm TV, I reached over the screen and blindly swivelled my wrists until my thumb hit the side of his open-faced toolbox. I plunged my hand in and wiggled my fingers around, frantically searching for the blade before my armpit hairs singed off. After wading through three pairs of scissors, a screwdriver, a large tape measure and a hairbrush, I finally got a grip on the penknife. I pulled it out and was startled to see its rusty blade still drawn.

I dropped to my knees and examined the parcel as my father returned from the kitchen, soft drink in one hand and the other resting on his hip. A drop of condensation from his cup landed on the box and left a dark spot, as if telling me to hurry up.

He cleared the fizz from his throat as I pushed the blade through a layer of tape in one smooth swipe. I wondered if he remembered the time when I was nine and had slashed my palms open trying to pull the lid off a can of longans. I had planned to make him an after-dinner dessert, but it bitterly ended with a night at the hospital with him holding my right hand as the doctor stitched up my left. The package in front of me now brushed against the scar on my palm as I reminded myself to strike the knife away from me and not towards.

“Be careful,” said my father. I wasn’t sure if he was worried for me or for the contents of his box. After slicing through the rest of the tape, I opened the flaps and out sprang thick layers of bubble wrap. I sunk my fingers into the plastic sheets and yanked out a lengthy mass of what felt like dense metal rods. Picking up the penknife again, I stabbed through the bubble wrap and ripped the layers apart, fuming with a mixture of curiosity and restlessness to find out what idiotic appliance I had to live with this time.

“Not bad, looks just like the picture.”

My father’s satisfaction grew as I hoisted a massive iron structure from the shreds of packaging around my thighs. It was a large cuboid frame that glistened under our ceiling lights. No wonder it weighed a ton; This thing was a chunk of pure metal. I stared at the puzzling object, frowning.  

“It’s a rack, girl. For your plants.”

The realization that this package was for me took a while to sink in. It wasn’t my birthday, nor had I received any special promotion at work. There was absolutely no reason for this gift. My father had stopped thinking about presents years ago, ever since I turned thirteen and came home with my first pack of sanitary pads. “I don’t know what teenage girls want anymore,” he had reasoned. Every birthday after that simply involved a quiet dinner of delivery pizza and a red packet left on my desk. I was always grateful for the money and for the freedom to choose whatever I wanted for my special day, but as I grew older, I couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps my father had stopped noticing me. Whatever I liked or disliked did not concern him anymore, and the red packet was just an obligatory act for the occasion. The thing is, you can give anybody money, but gifting somebody a surprise is undeniable proof that you had been lingering in their heads for a while.

The present in my hands grew heavier. I suddenly felt bad for kicking it earlier with my feet. I didn’t dare look up at my father, but I imagined his face beaming with triumph that he had finally purchased something I couldn’t possibly frown at. Still, I refused to give in. My body, however, could not stay composed. Goosebumps rose along both arms as the cold metal pressed against my blushing skin. I quickly set the rack down beside me and studied it in its entirety. Its gridded base resembled a charred barbecue rack, designed for letting excess water drip through in case of careless over-watering. A decorative grill bordered the rack with curls that forged subtle heart shapes, forming a fence of dainty swirls that enclosed its contents with the illusion of tenderness. It was, I hated to admit, surprisingly beautiful. But the most essential piece to the contraption was yet to be revealed. While I was mesmerized by my new gift, my father tilted the box and poured out two large brackets along with a couple of nuts and bolts.

“Come, I hang for you.”

Despite his dry, peeling hands, my father could always fix anything up in a jiffy. He fastened the loose brackets onto the iron rack, transported it to the balcony (after staggering through my scraps) and hooked it onto the railing. It dangled precariously at waist-level before my father tightened the remaining bolts. He then proceeded to give it a few smacks and thumps to test the rack’s stability. It didn’t budge. My father turned around, grinning.

“Better now, right?”

I joined my father on the balcony. Without a word, we picked up my containers one by one and settled them within the heart-shaped walls of the flowerpot holder. Our knuckles bumped carelessly against each other, and I was suddenly sent twenty years back to a balmy day at the beach. Knees bent in the warm sand together, my father and I were building our kingdom. He constructed elegant castles complete with battle towers and windows, patiently carving them with plastic utensils we found littered along the shore. While he sculpted the fancy parts, I helped decorate the walls with broken seashells and colourful bits of trash. The icing on our cake was a glistening green flag: A piece of skewered seaweed hanging limply on a twig. My least favourite part of the fortress was always the moat encircling it. I ran back and forth to the ocean with my pail, fetching water in a futile attempt to keep the moat filled. But the water always disappeared, leaving behind a dark and empty ditch. I asked my father where the water went and he replied, “The princess in the castle is always thirsty, just like you.” I could not recall why we had stopped going to the beach.

Back on our balcony, we held our breaths as I hoisted the last vegetable off the ground and placed it on the rack. To my father’s relief, they all fit perfectly. No sprout or bulb was left behind to further subjections of vengeful kicks and snowing cigarette ash. We retreated into the living room and assessed the finished product from afar. The plant rack had transformed our balcony from an unkempt laundry area littered with food scraps to a charming corner where bright green sprouts could finally greet us at eye-level.

“Looks good,” said my father.

As he cooled off under the ceiling fan and marvelled at his ingenious purchase, I couldn’t help but imagine him three weeks before, lying in bed after his evening shower with his smartphone set to maximum brightness in his dim bedroom as he typed out the words “flowerpot rack for balcony” into his shopping app’s search engine. This was a man who scrolled through hundreds of results, contemplated the best design, read through numerous reviews, considered the dimensions of the rack, measured the width of our balcony’s handrail and wondered if the product was worth the price or if he should just ask his daughter to find a new hobby. This was a man who took a chance, who clicked Add to Cart not knowing if his daughter’s kitchen scraps would even live for another month.

This was a man who still loved me despite never having said those three words.

“Thank you, Daddy,” I finally said.

My father is a man of few words. I never know what he is thinking until I catch a whiff of cigarette smoke wafting through my bedroom windows. There is no doubt that my kitchen scraps will eventually outlive the old man. Squeezed into the only wee space left on the rack is my father’s bursting ashtray which I occasionally empty out during my watering sessions. Every now and then my father will ask me, “How’s the rack?” as if he doesn’t already know from his vigorous shakings to check for loose bolts. He never asks about my plants, nor does he ever ask about me. But seeing my elevated greens dance in the sunlight now reminds me that my father still thinks of me, even if he doesn’t admit it. Or perhaps I’m exaggerating it all, and my father merely wanted my plants to stop tickling his feet while he smoked in his solitary, sun-lit spot.

[lillaxtrigger]

Faded Land: Chapter 23

When the young woman’s entire body phases through the towering labs front doorway, her eyes soon beholding what lies on the other side; discovering the facility’s lobby to be made from slick, almost angelic white walls, floors, and ceiling, all melded and fused together to make up a single, cornerless chamber. Hovering along the middle of the lobby air be countless holographic pictures and abstract decorations, one of the pieces of décor depicting a pair of human hands gently grasping the entire world in its palms. The strange decorations and photo’s isn’t the only thing that the hooded scientist catches in her first impressions of the facility; her site trailing along the dozens of glowing lines that trace themselves further beyond the triangular front desk stationed in the middle of the back; their rainbow luminescence pulsing further through like precious blood coursing through a body’s veins.

Stepping further within the spherical front lobby, she climbs along its inward curving surface to reach the triangle front desk stationed in the middle of a pair of outward holes; the receptionist stationed behind the glass glancing up from his desktop to see the young lady step before him and greeting with: “Hey uh, how you doing? I was just happen to be waltzing through here and noticed that you guys are-” “You wanting to know about the tours?” the receptionist cuts her off with. “I...Yes, please...” “Just sit out over in the waiting room over there until the tour guide comes around again.” the man instructs as he points off towards the side of the chamber. Glancing over in the direction he points over to, Clara sees another hole melding inwards into the wall, a couple of people phasing through the cover on its surface to make their exit. “Right...And how long you figure I’m gonna have to wait til then?” she then asks the receptionist. “It’s been about two hours now since the last group took off. Maybe like close to half another. Don’t know.” “Eh, thanks for your time.” the hooded scientist thanks with as she heads over to the side of the circular chamber.

Holding her hood up as she ascends the ramping chromatic surface, the young scientist stops before the seemingly covered hole leading into the waiting room; opting to simply jump straight on in with little caution, with her entire body slipping right through the intangible surface. Falling right into the waiting room, the young woman tumbles down its chromatic curved surface until reaching the very bottom of the chamber; arising from the floor and pulling herself together to find everybody waiting within glaring right at her. Gazing through the room herself, she finds the people that stare her down all sitting upon dozens of seats stations all throughout the waiting room; the chairs rooted and lined along the surface of the circular chamber and some hovering right in the middle of it. Once realizing that almost everyone’s eyes were glued to her, the hooded woman remains ever silent while venturing over to the nearest empty seat available; sitting her ass down onto its chairs comforting leather among the other potential tourists. Sitting among the awkward silence that haunts the waiting room, Clara’s eyes wander about for a clock to tell her the time; eventually catching a holographic digital clock that revolves around the circular chamber. 3:58. Just about 30 minutes til the next tour starts. Might as well finish up those cheese puffs while there’s still time to spare.

Taking advantage of this brief moment of reprise, the young lady pulls her worn out pack off her back and starts shoveling through its contents for her leftover bag of chips; grasping hold of it plastic and pulling it right out between her compass and the battery case. As she pulls the bag right out of her pack, Clara notices a small piece of paper slipping right out from the whole mess inside; fluttering down in front of the very seat she sits upon. Picking the small slip of paper right off the floor, the young scientist finds it to be the old photo of Arthur and her standing side by side; the scene depicting both of them holding one another’s shoulders as the stand right in front of a normal, square white building. Why Arthur?...What drove you to meddle with history and alter the world this severely? It’s still a puzzling mystery to think that he would. He was the most upbeat guy at work, practically everyone there liked him. It’s hard to imagine him going this far to destroy an entire country of people; what would even motivate him to do that? It’s not like he knew that it would result in a massive technological and scientific boom...right?

In the middle of pondering on these curious questions, the young woman tilts the bag of chips in her hands to dump whatever leftover puffs inside straight into her mouth; shaking it til every single crumb drop. Once getting every single piece of cheesy goodness down into her awaiting maw, the hungry scientist starts chewing down on the dusty cheese puffs with a satisfied moan; soon to realize the neighboring people staring upon her with an assortment of strange and uncomfortable glances and glares. When finally noticing all these eyes aimed her way, Clara quickly chews up the rest of puffs that remain in her mouth and swallows them all straight down; soon letting out a little cough as she still feels some bits of cheese puffs in her throat. Chewed too fast. Need some water to wash it down. Shoving her arms straight back into her pack, the hooded woman digs further through its insides and grasps the water held within; rooting the bottle out as quickly as she could among her other junk. While pulling out the plastic bottle of clear clean water, something else drops out of her bag; a small wooden box tumbling out onto the curved floor and opening to spill the several small packets left within. Her eyes shift back and forth between the spilled packets of tea and the water in her hand; then glancing back into her bag to find the marble mug nestled inside. It has been a while since any of this tea’s been used; maybe a little drink may calm the nerves before the moment of truth arrives.

Leaning in from her seat, the young woman scoops up the packets of tea littering the floor back into the wooden box they came in, leaving one of them out as she puts the rest away in her bag and in turn pulls out her little marble mug. After pouring half of her bottle straight into the cup, Clara dunks the single packet of tea straight in; the small bag darkening the water with its flavoring as it sinks to the bottom of the mug. Taking in the floral fragrance that now seep out from the surface of the once scentless liquid, the hooded scientist lifts the cup up to her mouth and takes in just a single sip of the sweet tea; her body relaxing in the euphoric relaxation that the drink gives her as she starts to slump in her seat. Ah that’s way better. Nothing like a brew of relaxing tea to ease the mind and calm the body...It’s...it feels like its working too well, to be honest. As the herbal tea starts to sit within her body, the slumping scientist struggles to keep her heavy eyes open; shaking her head in an effort to keep her consciousness from slipping away. Crap, might’ve been too much tea in one of those packets. That or it might’ve been the all night and day hike just getting here. Coming from Mississauga all the way up to New Toronto on foot is enough to tire anybody out. But falling asleep now wouldn’t be much of a bright idea. Might just miss out on the tour like this. Still, being this tired wouldn’t be any good sneaking through the labs. Maybe just a little rest might be okay. Just need to be woken up when the time comes.

Fully realizing this, the drowsing scientist uses what time she has to tilt her head over to find the seat neighboring hers to hold a rather husky gentleman; grabbing his attention and requesting in a drowsy manner for: “Hey, mind…mind, mind wakin me up when...th-the next tour comes…?” “Uh sure, no problem.” the gent responds while shuffling away from the tired scientist. “Thanks mate...” Those two words being the last to come out of her mouth, Clara finally lets go of whatever semblance of consciousness she had attempted to hold onto; welcoming the soothing drift into the darkness.

Her little relaxing drift through the void of unconsciousness soon comes to a quaking end as she feels herself being shaken out from her dazing slumber; slowly pulling her eyes open to discover the one shaking her to be the very man she request awaken her. While waking from her tea induced slumber, the young woman’s ears begin to clearly hear the husky man warn her that: “Ma’am...Ma’am. The tour guide’s here, come on.” These very words of warning reaching her ears, Clara jolts herself wide awake and leaps out from her seat; frantically glazing around the waiting room and asking: “Wha-where does the tour start!?” “Everyone poured themselves out into the front lobby when the clock hit 4:30.” he claims as he points over to the hole where the scientist had entered from. Quickly sweeping her backpack off the floor, the young lady races out towards the hole while thanking the man who awakened her with: “Thanks for the heads up!”

While rushing out towards the waiting room’s only exit, the scientist witness the last couple of people gently climbing down through the hole; Clara plummeting through the same way she came in and phases straight through the intangible cover. The momentum of her jumping descent flings her up through the front lobby’s air and down towards its curved side; flopping flat onto its white surface and slamming her face right onto the hard metal. Pulling herself right off the floor, the scientist finds barely anybody having noticed her little repeated blunder like last time; the whole entire crowd proving far too distracted by the woman in uniform at the very front of the lobby’s words.

“As you’re guide for this little trip, may I greet by welcoming each and every one of you to this tour throughout the wondrous halls of K-labs incorporated.” With these words reaching her own ears, Clara pulls herself off the lobby’s angelic white surface and makes her way to where the tour lady stands; slithering herself through the people that crowd around her. “Today will I humbly guide and present you with the dozens of upcoming scientific achievements and inventions that K-labs has permitted to be shown to the public today.” Finally squeezing herself to the very front of the bustling crowd, the hooded scientist’s eyes widen when finally witnessing the rest of the tour guides body; discovering her to lack any sort of legs underneath her dress. Clara is taken aback when discovering that in place of the woman’s legs, the guide bottom half replaced with a smooth white cone; its dull tip hovering just a few inches above the lobby floor. “Now, I must request that all of you keep yourselves and you’re children together at all times and refrain from wondering off. By continuing through the tour from this point forward, K-labs is not responsible for the well being of anybody failing to comply.”

After explaining all of this, the hovering guide turns her back on the group and starts to head further down the tunnel beyond the triangular receptionists desk; instructing all of them to: “Now, follow me and you’ll see a world of pure scientific revolution.” Upon hearing the guides promising words does most of the crowd behind her wonder in awe as they proceed down the hall with her; Clara keeping her hood up as she slinks back deeper into the crowd.

The whole group of tour goers is lead deeper through the winding tunnels by the floating guide, the only source of light for the way being the colorful lines that course through the halls. Along the walls, floor, ceiling, and through whatever other direction that cylinder tunnel could hold; every one of them are taken through the facility’s winding hallways that twist in turn in almost every direction possible. Their little dizzying trip through eventually has them comes to what they seem to think is a dead end; finding only a large pink platform resting against the very end of the tunnel. “What the hell?” “What’s going on?” “Why’d she lead us to a dead end?” “All you’re questions shall be answered once everyone gathers within the pink circle you see before you. Only then will the tour truly begin.” Though most of the proceeding crowd remains ever confused from these instructions, the hooded scientist among them recognizes the platform the guide is instructing them all to stand upon. The material, the pattern, the structure. Ain’t no doubt about it. This is the exact same kind of pads the military uses to warp back to home base. Not much of a surprise to find that sort of tech implemented here. Wouldn’t be much of a shock if they were the ones that developed it in the first place. Still, wonder how they’re gonna activate without the necessary armor components?

Clara question is answered once everyone is gathered in the middle of the pink platform, the tour guide lowering the dull tip of her prosthetic cone onto the bright pink pad and causing it to emit a brilliant glow; the unexpected glow spooking the lot of the tour goers. “Rest assured everyone, everything is working as intended. K-labs patented teleportation pads have been manufactured to activate with specific prompt keys. A great example of one being the very device that keeps me afloat. With it, I can warp myself and you lovely folks along the other warp pads that are planted throughout K-labs. The countless scientists that tirelessly research here all have these prompts sown within the very fabric of their standard issue lab coats; its what they use to quickly travel through this towering facility.” Hearing all of this explained by the guide’s reassuring voice soothes the upset crowd; taking in the brief moment to calm down before their guide then warns them to: “Now, hold on tight.” Keeping the tip of her cone pressed against the pad, the guide twists its tip straight into the platforms surface; the entire crowd feeling themselves float in the air as all of them are taken away in a bright flash of light.

Beyond the sudden bright flash, the entire tour crowd is swiftly whisked through a tunnel of brilliant luminescence; the mix of glimmering lights and odd sensations coursing through their body causing the entire group to begin panicking. “Holy shit!” “What the fuck is going!?” “I’m I dead!? Are the edibles kicking in!? “Why is this happening!? My body feels weird!” “Mommy, I’m scared!” “Just keep holding me baby! I promise it’ll be okay!” “I can’t feel my insides! I can’t feel my insides!?” Despite combination of countless whales of fright and fear ringing in both of her ears and the light distorting her very body, Clara remains ever calm among it all; her mind proving far from what’s happening around her and instead focused on how to track down her friend and coveted mcguffin. Arthur and the time orb could practically be anywhere inside this towering laboratory; it may take days, perhaps even weeks to find where he even works within here. If he’s even here at all. Maybe it’d be best to focus on one thing at a time, such as figuring out how to successfully elude this bustling tour group and venture deeper within this leviathan lab. It’s doubtful anybody would notice a single person go missing among the dozens of others, plus the tour guide seems to care little in watching for anyone who would. Sure it would be easy to slip away unnoticed, but the bigger question is how to remain unnoticed; this beat up hood already showing little to blend in among the overall aesthetic. Might have to revive the old practice of the strike and stripe once more. As if that little trick hasn’t proven to backfire.

Its soon enough that the light that they travel through begins to subside; the crowd returning to normal as all of them feel their feet touch solid ground once more, all of them hearing their guide inform them that: “You can open your eyes now everyone.” Upon hearing their guide state this do all of them start to uncover their frightened gazes, a wave of awe transforming their fearing faces into astounded stares; Clara herself is even left taken aback by the wondrous site that greets them all. The entire crowd of tour goers is left baffled when finding themselves having warped with the middle of a grand imposing hall boasting to be miles long; the hall filled to the brim with countless clear bubble rooms that all intertwine with one another. Within these countless bubbles, all of them beheld dozens of gray shirt workers all fiddling with dozens upon dozens of small fragile parts that warp themselves within their workspace; each of them handling the individual pieces with pairs of gloves. “This little floor on our first stop is where countless devices and gadgets under K-labs brand are mass produced and manufactured; swiftly assembled and shipped to countless stores and businesses throughout the entire globe.” the tour guide informs as she begins to hover towards one of the clear glass tunnels connecting the other bubbles. “Now if all of you come and follow me, I’ll be more than happy to present to you all how the entire production process is carried out.”

From their guides humble request, the lot of tour goers begin to follow the tunnel that she takes as they continue to gaze around the unique surroundings in awe; the hooded scientist among them glaring around for a chance to break off from the pack. All these tunnels and bubbles are so transparent, it’s hard to imagine anybody going through here believably throughout this whole floor without being spotted by almost everyone in the vicinity; be it from fellow tour goers or by any of the workers station here. There isn’t really many options to go off of right now, only smart thing to do is to bide time and hope this tour ends up going somewhere more secluded. Only hope this part does last too long.

Further guided along the transparent tunnels of the production floor, the tour guide turns back to the crowd as she continues moving forth; quizzing the crowd on: “Now, can any of you explain the process of how the everyday holophones are mass produced?” Not a single peep could be heard uttered among the entire tour going public, all of them left silent upon their guides question. “Well, allow me to show you how they’re made.”

Leading them all to the end of the first glass tunnel, the guide presents them to a single worker honing a pair of white gloves; the gloves showing to match the movements of a pair of glowing hands hovering within a smaller bubble. Soon enough do all of them see dozens of plastic pieces all being warped straight into the transparent square; the pair of glowing hands swiftly piecing all of them together before the crowds very eyes. Assembling all of the pieces together, all of them come to form the very frame that the holophones use; one of the glowing hands tapping the button at the very top to cause the frame to begin closing itself, eventually taking on a far more compact cubic form. Pressing the button once more makes the cube unfold back into the frame it was made into; that very frame being warped away in a flash of light; where a new set of plastic pieces take its place and the cycle begins again. “So, where are the finished frames warped to?” one of the tour goers questions. “That little question shall be the next stop on our little trip throughout this floor. Come on everyone.” the guide answers as she floats off into the clear tunnel ahead; the entire crowd following her through after.

Further through the clear tunnels that bridge the bubbles between, the hovering woman guides the crowd of curious tourists to the very end of the tunnel; where upon all of them behold the inside of a manufacturing bubble akin to the last. Single worker, clear square case, glowing hands. Everything like the last. The only difference to note being what appears within the clear air tight cube, the audience witnessing the frame that they have just seen assembled not to long ago make its appearance within. Once the frame warps within the air tight cube, the pair of glowing hands between clasp both of its side; both of the severed glowing limbs letting out a bright blue luminescence upon both of its palms. As the entire crowd looks upon the illuminating display in awe, the intense glow that lights the bubble begins to die down; everyone of them amazed to find the luminescence now encapsulated within the frame. “Wow, so those hands give the phone its power.” one of them restates. “Indeed it does. And yet, there is one last step in making the holophones the most versatile device of our age. Come and I’ll show you the unique way that these manufactures install our holophones advanced operating system.”

Lead further down the neighboring tunnel of glass, the hovering tour guide takes the entire crowd to another that mirrors the last one they had stopped at; all with the same exact setup as the one before. Within the very middle of the clear air tight box, the phone frame with the screen is warped right in and clutched by one of the glowing hands that awaits within; one of them keeping hold of the phone while the other keeps an open palm held out, as if expecting something else to appear alongside the frame. And lo and behold, another flash of light sparks within the clear cube; the luminescence dimming for all to see the glow to have brought in a simple white capsule. As soon as the tiny capsule lands in the hand’s glowing palm, it suddenly squeezes its mitts hard enough for an audible crack to ring out beyond the box; the severed glowing hand then slowly opens to let a tiny orb of light rise up from its shard littered palm. Floating from the illuminating hands, the small sprite of pure light flutters within the air tight transparent cube; all of the audience’s eyes locked to the glowing dot as it carelessly flies about. “What is it?” one of them utters “Shh, just watch.” the guide requests. Keeping their site glued to the tiny fluttering light, the entire crowd watches as the small glowing orb suddenly lunges straight into the holographic screen of the phone; the screen soon expelling an intense luminescence strong enough to urge the crowd to evade their gaze. Once the heavenly glow finally begins to dissipate, the entire touring crowd withdraws their attention back to the phone within the cube; a collective gasp in awe releasing from them all as they behold the results of the bright flash.

Held within the holophone’s screen could they all see a pair of twin doves encircling the very middle, both of them soon crossing eachother’s paths and connecting to one another via their tail feathers. Their silhouette then fades in to show them both forming a unique logo, the word “Twinrova” appearing at the bottom of the symbol. “That’s the operating system that the phone’s run on, isn’t it?” one of the tourists questions. “Wait seriously!? That’s how they install it!?” After letting a mild chuckle leak out, the hovering tour guide turns back towards the public and confirms that: “Indeed it is. The scientist’s here have discovered a way to transfer data and information into pure visible light; ready to be downloaded on those devices designed to receive it. Such information transfer have been proven to be far more efficient and reliable then those that had been once carried out via satellite.” Just as the guide finishes explaining all this does everyone witness the fully assembled phone be warped away in a spark of illumination; the entire tour going crowd left muttering to themselves upon having witnessed the entire manufacturing process. Cutting through their constant murmuring, the whole group quiets themselves as their guide then states how: “And that is simply one of the many products that are mass produced within the very walls of this towering laboratory. We still have a lot more devices to show you that are produced here. If you come with me, I shall be more than eager to show you them all.” Nearly everyone in the tour going crowd proves to be itching to see more of how their everyday gizmo’s and gadgets are produced here; their wondering muttering echoing through the glass tunnels as the proceed onward through. But among them all stood the hooded scientist hidden among the curious crowd, who stood rather disinterested in seeing any more; the only thing that Clara was wondering is how much longer this portion of the tour could possibly take.

40 minutes...40 god damn minutes slowly trotting along as the tour group is dragged throughout the bubbled assembly floor; the hooded young woman among them forced through bubble after bubble to witness each careful and intricate step on how the futures countless gadgets are made. And while some steps on these gadgets prove engaging enough to briefly grab the scientist’s attention; Clara proves utterly bored by the constant, seemingly unending drag through the rest of the trip along these countless tunnels of clear glass; her eyes drifting away through the bubbles of a single sign of her friend. Despite her constant vigilance, the hooded scientist finds not a single sign of Arthur anywhere on this particular floor; the hopes that she would run into him as quick as possible dashing away from the scientist. Seems the only option to take was to keep waiting until this little part of the tour ends. Hopefully, the next part of the facility this tour guide drags the crowd through may be a little closed space.

Though the rest of the trip through the bubbled manufacture floor takes a little longer than she had wished for, the tour group finally makes their return to the pink teleportation platform that they had warped in on; the guide turning back to them all and announcing that: “Alright everyone. Now that our little walk through the gizmo manufacturing floor has come to a close, I can take you on the next stop on this little tour of ours. Hold on.” Upon warning the crowd to do so, the tour guide lowers the tip of her hovering cone onto the surface of the bright pink warp pad; the entire platform glowing alight as all of them are whisked away from the chamber in a bright spark.

Within the next moment the crowd could reasonably process, the entire tour falls onto another pink warp pad such as the one they had departed from; the spooked crowd getting back on their feet and opening their eyes to the physical world once more. All of them find themselves having warped within a far more closed off and private hallway, with the surface of the tunneling halls proving as solid and see through as bluntly smooth steel; the only breaks from the surface they could see being the very same sort of lines coursing colorful power throughout the facility. Each member of the wondering crowd turns their attention to their floating guide as she informs them all that: “Now that all of you have calmed yourselves, I would like to welcome you all to the massive machinery assembly floor, where upon our much larger machinery and devices are assembled within the confinements of their own private rooms.” When the tour guide starts to hovers forth, the whole crowd follows her deeper through the closed off steel hallway; all the while continuing to explain to everyone how: “Since these particular machines boast monolithic sizes, they’re far too massive to teleport between room to room for assembly. As such, each one of them are assembled within their very own chambers with a line of workers ready to construct each and every piece that is warped within. All of the workers held within one of these chambers piece each part of these massive machines together like a giant puzzle; tirelessly combining their own pieces until it all comes together to form the finished product. While a good couple of these leviathan machines are sold to the public, the rest are manufactured with a far more broad public service in mind; like the everyday city traveler.”

Having explained all of this to the curious public behind her, the tour guide has them all come to a stop before a massive window adorned along the hallways side; presenting what lies on the other side with: “Would you all care to witness how the entire process works?” Taking the guides offer, the entire crowd peers through the clear glass and discovers on the other side a literal army of gray uniformed workers that dwell within the giant chamber; each one of them standing upon small platforms that help them hover throughout the giant chamber. The very site of them all takes the entire crowd aback, with their eyes glued to the various workers that float along the inside of the chamber; the whole scene even surprising the scientist among them all. Each of them equip with the same sort of the gloves they all seen the assembly workers stationed within the bubbles wear; the pair of glowing hands they control however boasting to be much larger in size, their girth coming into use when some giant pieces of metal begin to teleport all around the chamber. Catching the miscellaneous pieces of metal and circuitry with the palms of their giant illuminating hands, the workers begin to piece them all together; each of them fitting to one another like parts of a puzzle. Sticking a circuit inside a slot, linking a couple of pipes together, fitting a hatch within the inside; each step of the assembly process could be seen taken before the watching crowds eyes.

When one part that a single worker works on has been fully assembled, the employee neighboring them works in tandem to attach both of their assembled parts to one another; the two of them working with the pair of workers next to them to attach all their pieces together. The entire touring crowd watches with glints in their eyes as this whole process unfolds before their very eyes; each of their pair of pupils following an individual piece to witness them all finally meet together to fully create the workers fully assembled product. The whole group comes to behold a massive steel diamond with a glint of onyx glistening along the edges; these black edges pulsing a strong green light that reflects off the very window they watch through.

“Wow, what did they all just make?” one child within the group questions. “What all of you seen put together by all those assembly workers is one of K-labs upcoming machines. A signal beckon. Its a machine that scientist hope will strengthen and increase the range of dozens of wireless devices, providing neigh limitless power to millions of peoples everyday devices within an estimated 20,000 kilometers.” Hearing the tour guide explain all of this to them, the whole tour group stares back to the diamond shaped beckon in awe and amazement; listening in as the hovering woman explains further how: “Nearly thousands of these beckons are being planted throughout the entire world as we speak and are planning to be activated sometime next year; ready to provide wireless power to countless compatible devices used throughout the entire earth. K-labs goal for these beckons is to one day use this technology to expand humanity’s reach to the very stars above us, to venture out into the unknown universe and colonize the potential millions of other planets that lay beyond the milky way.” These very feverish ambitions draw out another wondrous moan from the touring crowd; the hidden scientist among them even gazing upon the leviathan diamond as it continues to pulse its green light; soon witnessing the massive machine being whisked away in a glimmer of lights. Right as the finished beckon is whisked out from the inside of the chamber, a bevy of much smaller parts begin to reappear in front of the army of workers; all the employees effectively repeating the assembly process all over again. Breaking away from the chambers glass window, the tour guide begins to move deeper down the tunneling hall while grabbing everyone’s attention with: “Come now everyone. We have more amazing machinery to come and behold.”

Proceeding along the curved cylinder halls, the floating tour guide leads all of them up, down, and all around the twisted tunnel corridors; all the while the hooded scientist among them continues to wonder to where her friend may be within this whole tower. Still haven’t found a single sign of him anywhere in this entire laboratory. Don’t even know where he could possibly be stationed at. Let’s review some stuff here. From the very moment that he had been sent to K-labs, he worked his way up from the bottom and made it to the top alongside the most brilliant minds. Those sites that concerned him stated how he had a hand in developing some of the future’s most revolutionary inventions; perhaps he’s somewhere in their research and development division.

Piercing her voice through the constant murmurs of the crowd against her; Clara decides to ask the tour guide: “Eeeexcuse me? How long will it be til we get to research and development?” “Aw yeah. I wanna see what cool new inventions they’re making up there.” someone in the crowd exclaims. “Me too. My dad said he got to see them when he was a kid.” “Hope we get there soon.” Breaking up the excited murmurs, the tour guide turns back as she continues hovering forth; answering their feverish curiosity with: “Well everyone, I can safely say that we will definitely be taking several stops through K-labs dozens of R&D divisions.” “Dozens!?” “Indeed. Each of them dedicated to studying each piece of what makes up our very reality and how we can manipulate them for our use; they’ll be the last stops on our tour through here.” “H-how long might that take?” the hooded woman then questions. “Well, since this trip of ours will take us through most of K-labs. I’d wager that we have around 4 and a half hours until this magical journey comes to a close.” “F-four hours!?” “That’s right. Boy, are all of you in for a wild ride.”

Four hours isn’t anywhere near enough time to go through this whole tower trying to figure out where Arthur could be. Who knows how much longer it’ll be before the Mounties realize their top target is in the very heart of their country. Don’t have much choice left any more, gotta find a way to split from the pact.

With thoughts of abandoning this little tour through the facility, the young scientist starts to slink towards the very back of the crowd; blending within the dozens of people and biding her time until the right moment to slip away comes. “But for now, what say we see the entire process of how the slithering mono trains are assembled.” the tour guide announces as all of them start to approach a four way intersections in the middle of the hallway; the crowd gasping and awing as they cut straight through the crosswalk. Clara meanwhile takes this as her opportunity to slip away from the pack, escaping down the left while all of them proved completely distracted.

Once having broken far enough away from the touring crowd, Clara takes a good glance around through the facility’s tunneling halls; keeping her continuing steps as silent as possible to avoid being heard by any sort of wayward people that just so happen to be sharing these very halls. It’s in her little sneak through that she discovers another window framed along the side of the circular tunnel; Clara crouching along its very frame to evade being spotted by any of the assembly workers within. Taking a quick stop right in the middle of the window, the young scientist’s burning curiosity gets the better of her and can’t help but take a little peek inside; questioning what could they possibly be building within this very room. Gazing through the transparent glass; the scientist could bare witness to the workers inside in the process another massive machine like the last crew had; piecing together each individual part via a pair of glowing hands atop a hovering platform. In finishing their pieces do all of them start to connect and twist all of them together; Clara witnessing the assemblage before her very eyes as it comes together to create a massive metal statue of a man with multiple arms that stretch down, the palms of its hands taking the shape of cushioned chairs.

Moving on from the giant window, the young scientist rises back on her own two feet and continues sneaking down the hall; All the while constantly wondering how to make her way through this towering laboratory and to one of the research and development floors. The way the warp pads are put into place make it look like each of these floors aren’t connected traditionally by stairs and elevators. The outside didn’t look like to have any sort of windows to climb into either. Seems like the only way to get around this entire place is through those teleportation pads; but that tour guide mentioned the only way to get them to work is with designated uniforms, like a lab coat or those worker uniforms. Doubt they’d let a normal worker employee just waltz around the tower without any sort of explanation; it’d be even worse if they wonder who the hell might be walking around wearing a uniform and hood all at once. Still, it ain’t like none of the scientist don’t come down here to check up on how things are doing; gotta have somebody keeping the bees busy. Just gonna have to stay low and keep an eye on one of those warp pads for the moment one of the scientist pops in.

Coming a little further ways through the winding hallway, Clara ears start to pick up the faint echoes of voices coming up ahead; one that cuts through them all proving rather familiar to the sneaking scientist: “Now coming up, each and every one of you will see how the park chairs are made.” With a resounding awe then sounding out from that statement, its then that she realizes who that voice belongs to. Shit, its the tour guide! Didn’t think they’d come around this quickly. Can’t hide anywhere around here, gotta outrun them.

When realizing this, the young lady turns right around and doubles back the way she came; skipping through the twisted tunnel as fast as she could to gain as much distance between her and the approaching tour group as possible. As she continues blazing through the cylinder hallways, the hooded woman takes a quick glance back to witness a mass of shadows starting to grow along the curved surface of the halls; the site of the shadows urging her to pick up the pace before the whole tour group nears. With the threat of the wandering tour goers on her tail, Clara gazes ahead for any other alternative routes to take away from the oncoming crowd; soon discovering a fork in the road coming up ahead. Her little skip swiftly transforming into a full blown sprint as she races down the left, the scientist takes one more glance back to the halls she had just ran through; hoping to whatever kinds of variable runs the universes luck that they’ll take the other way. And as soon as she takes a stop around the next corner, the young woman could witness the entire touring crowd going just that; the guide leading them all down the right way without so much as glancing in the scientist’s direction; a relieved sigh escaping from her lungs as she slinks against the curving wall. A little bit too close of a call back there, to be honest. Almost got busted. But its alright, got outta there without anyone noticing. Hopefully, it’ll stay that way.

Clara’s little self directed trip through the giant machinery manufacturing floor continues, all the while keeping a sharp eye out for any other shadows or windows that may come up ahead; all of the vigilant observation proving to be a tad boring while traveling forth. Seeing the workers move all the pieces around with those gloves was a little cool, you think there’d be more going on in a place this famous for its scientific exploits. Then again, this is just the production floor. Can’t really expect anything that grand. Still, it’d be a disappointment to sneak through this place without taking a little peak at what they’re working on. Just need some way to get through this place hassle free.

Taking the very next corner does the young woman happen upon a rather intriguing find, discovering an entire myriad of colorful teleportation pads all lined within a massive circle; all of them just big enough for just a single person to hop in and warp away. Whelp, found where the scientist come down on. But how to go about ganking their coat once they do. Obviously, just running up, grabbing one, and warping away would raise some ghastly alarms; probably have the whole mountie police force storm through the building. Need to be careful about this; who know’s how many hidden eyes there are watching these halls. With what little options she has on her at the moment, Clara decides it best to simply await around the corner beside the circle of teleportation pads; keeping an eye on all of them for the very moment somebody comes popping out on the other side.

It...takes a tad while before anything could even come through even one of the pads; the awaiting scientist left slumping against the curved wall as she sits along the steel surface, with nothing but a tiring yawn escaping from her mouth. God, how long does it take for anybody to come down here? Practically close to the brink of passing out at this point. Just one, just one person has go through one of those pads and through here. One scientist is all it takes.

Its in that very moment that the hooded scientist catches the unexpected shriek coming from around the corner; the sudden sound causing her to leap out from her bored sit and take a glance towards the circle of warp pads. From behind the corner could she witness a brilliant flash of light from one of the platforms; the bright glow swiftly dimming to reveal the person that just warped in to be a single man her sized donning an indigo blue lab coat with a hood stitched in the collar, the tail of his coat reaching down to the back of his knees. Hmm...seems like an important enough guy. Clean, steady, uptight. That coat on him looks pretty damn fancy. Bet its what he used to warp in here. Only thing left to think of is how to get it off him. Doubt he’ll discard it so carelessly. And outright assaulting him for it might draw too much attention. Even if he’s knocked out without a sound; chances are that he might wake up too soon and call security. But how to approach this smoothly. Taking another to ponder to herself, an idea starts to bloom within the recesses of her mind; her developing plan causing a devious grin to crack between her cheeks.

Casually strolling from the set of warp pads, the blue coated scientist waltz’s through the twisted tunnels at his own leisurely pace; his drowsy eyes drifting over to the massive glass windows that lays ahead of him. Taking a quick peek through the transparent glass can the man witness the army of workers busy on the other side; watching their ever constant progress as they piece together one of the many massive machines produced on this floor at their usual pace. In admiring there dedication, his gaze of pride start to turn when noticing one of them slacking on the job; carelessly browsing his holophone rather then focusing on his job. Oh hell, no. We ain’t having any of that “accident on the job” bullshit due to this asshole neglectful attitude. Gonna have to straighten this jackass up real quick to keep things from falling apart; one wrong move from anybody’s end’ll cause a hell of a scene, especially with tours still running. Planning to show this careless bastard what for, the blue hooded scientist briskly walks further through the steel tunnel in quite a huff. Right when the hasty man was just about to turn through the next sharp turn, his little hurrying trip through the halls is swiftly thwarted when something blunt and heavy swings out from the other side; slamming against his face and knocking him clean out onto the curved floor.

Once the blue hooded scientist flops onto the floor, Clara slinks out from the other side of the corner with her backpack in hand; opening up the flap and quickly rummaging through the insides. This guys head better not have broken anything. Lets see, mug, tea box, battery case, compass...Alright, everything’s good. Having found everything in order, the young woman sets her backpack onto the floor and reaches for the unconscious man; grasping the cloth of his lab coat and slipping the garb straight off him. Replacing her old, beat up hoodie she found on the side of the highway with this far cleaner, standard issue scientist laboratory coat, an almost sentimental sigh escapes her lips as she feels the coats comfortable and unique texture slide along her skin. Missed having one of these things on. When glazing along the surface of its sleeve, the young lady finds an interesting discovery laying within the middling layer of her coat; finding an ultra thin layer of circuitry sown within, bending and stretching as casually as the coat itself. A rather unique piece of technology. Sort of reminiscent of the armor that this country’s military wears. Still, ain’t no time to admire this bit of tech. Gotta get this whole thing set up before somebody comes around the corner and sees.

Glancing down to the unconscious man next to her feet, Clara slips the dirt ridden coat that she had once wore onto the poor bastard; slipping the hood straight over the guys head. Good so far. Can’t really see any difference hiding under that hood. But he still needs to be in a half awake stupor long enough to get away. Returning to her backpack, the lab coated young woman starts to quickly pilfer through its worn insides for the tools she needs in the next step of her little scheme; pulling out from its depths the half drunken bottle of water, the marble mug, and the box of tea bags. After pouring the rest of the water straight into the mug, Clara dunks in about four bags worth of tea straight into the cup; watching the once clear water darken with the bags sweet herbal juices. With the cup of drowsing tea all poured, the young woman gently picks the unconscious scientist off the curving steel floor and carefully pours the calming drink straight down the guy’s throat; moving his neck about to make the medicine smoothly go down.

Once having made the unconscious man chug down the mug of tea; the young lady start to gently slap the scientists cheeks to try and get him up; a soft moan leaving him as he shuffles in Clara’s arms before the man softly questions: “Wha...wh-wha...wha-what time is it?” “It’s time to get up now, sweetie. Today’s the day of the big field trip.” Clara lies in a faux motherly tone. “Field...trip?” “That’s right. You’re already dressed, so all you have to do now is go out the door before you miss the bus.” “Right...right...the-the trip to...uh...the trip...” While the barely awake man continues to mutter aloud, the woman that had stolen his coat takes a little peek around the corner; coming to witness the hovering tour guide leading the crowd she left through the crossroad ahead. Pulling him back on his own two feet, Clara gently shoves the dazed scientist towards the tour group; the man stumbling away in half asleep stupor as Clara whispers to him to: “Have fun.”

After watching the dazed man merge cleanly with the rest of the touring crowd, Clara slips her backpack right back on and heads off in the direction of the warp pads up ahead; feeling the lab coat she pilfered fit snugly on her body as the tail end flutters about while walking forth. Simply wearing the blue hooded garb erupts a whole wave of memories long past; reminiscent of the steps and stops she had taken throughout the war torn U.S. Those old folks, that mutated forest, the city with all the giant animals, the clown guy, the mutated mind controlling farm animals, the stalactite city, Angelo… Its crazy to imagine how this whole journey is nearing its conclusion. Even after everything that’s happened. But every step will be worth it once its all done. Everything will go back to normal, the U.S and its people will be brought, and this whole trip will be nothing but a faded memory. Just a little longer now...Just a little longer…

Soon enough after acquiring her newfound hooded lab coat does Clara return to the circle of colorful warp pads awaiting along the side of the tunneling hallway; glazing along the numerous platforms and wondering which of them to the research and development that Arthur resides in. That is, if she can tell which of them that he could be at. Dammit, wish they’d label these things. Ain’t no way to tell where any of them go other then just guesswork. But that seems to be the only option at the moment. Just hope that one of these aren’t routed to somewhere dangerous like a trash compactor or a testing area. With very little options under her belt to take, the coated scientist simply glazes her index finger along the set of colorful warp pads before her; ultimately stopping at one holding a green hue and swiftly jumping on in. As soon as the scientist steps right onto the platform is she whisked away in a flash of light; every part of her body leaving the manufacturing floor in glimmers of glow.

Reappearing back in the physical world, the hooded scientist opens her eyes to discover herself having popped within a rather small room housing a short line made up of several lab coated scientist such as herself; each of them waiting for their turn in front of a rather odd device aimed against a solid flat wall. While observing the very front, Clara witnesses the next in line step up before the flat wall and turns to face the machines very tip; the woman closing her eyes as the sharp tip of the device glows blood red. From the machines very tip, it soon fires straight towards the woman a red triangle of transparent light; forcing the woman against the wall as soon as it makes contact with her body. Once the scientist is slammed against the chromatic surface, her entire body begins to meld with the flat slab of steel; Clara watching with wide eyes as the woman’s flesh transitions within the clean steel. Soon enough does Clara come to witness the woman fully converge along the chrome walls surface, left completely flat as a colorful 2-D drawing. When left fully flattened within the shining slab of steel, the wall that the scientist now occupies is lifted up towards the ceiling and soon sent sliding through a small crack leading out; the very same wall swiftly lowering back down to show nothing plastered upon it.

After beholding this entire process unfold before her very eyes, Clara can’t help but let loose an amazed: “Holy shit.” Her awe soon causes the man in the back of the line before her to glance back her way, a small computing device implanted into his right eye; the young woman taking the moment to question him if: “Uh...w-what floor is this?” “This is the very bottom of the 2 dimensional research and development sector. Now, would be so kindly to answer who you might be?” the guy questions back. “Oh, me. Ah, you know. Just kinda new around here. Trying to find my way around the place is all.” While Clara falsely explains all of this to the scientist before her, the man’s computer eye starts to analyze her articles of clothing; finding the very lab coat she dons to belong to another; following up in a more accusatory manner. “And what might you be doing with someone else’s assigned coat?” “Ah, th-this thing. Well funny, story. I wound up sleeping in late this morning and had to leave in a hurry. By the time I got to the lab, I realized I left my coat at home. So I asked one of the scientist hanging out below if I could borrow one of there’s for the day. Kind of embarrassing, but hey; we all have those kinds of days, don’t we.” “Hmm...A tad against protocol. But since you seem rather new here, such an infraction can slide for now. Just be sure to bring in you’re own coat next time you come in to work.”

“Right...Uh, since I got you. I’ve heard a lot about this particular scientist working here these past few months; said to have made his way from the bottom all the way to the top in a sort time.” “Oh?” “I think his name might be Arthur, you know where I could find him?” Clara asks. “Ugh...another fan, I presume.” “Uh, yeah. Pretty much.” “Good god. You’re practically the 15th one that’s asked that just this week. That young wretch has practically turned this entire laboratory right on its head in the few short months that he’s been here; practically pilfering the well earned respect and reputation of this entire scientific staff. People all throughout the entire world used to hold each and every one of us in high regard, as pioneers to the forefront of science. But ever since that U.S yokel just popped out of nowhere one day, he’s been constantly creating countless gizmo’s and gadgets for the market; all while stealing the spotlight from every other hard working scientist here. He might as well be compared to one of those overnight celebrities with how long the eager bastard has been here. Every day now, people down in the front lobby and all the younger scientist asking for him, as if they think that he would actually have the time to greet any of them. Of course, the lad has done a good number of scientific breakthrough in the short time he’s been here, but still, save some work for the rest of us other hard working scientist.”

“Um...Sir...Floor.” Hearing this from the young woman,  the man with the computer eye takes a moment calm himself; a small breath passing out from his mouth before he begins with: “Right...where he is...Well, I can sure as hell assure you that he’s nowhere within this particular R&D branch. The higher ups probably have him stationed up above to the Time manipulation division. Of course, someone as eager as him wouldn’t be complaining about that.” “Great. You know how I can get there?” “Hmph! Don’t you have you’re own division to report to?” the man deflect. “Uh, yeah. I’m meant to be there as a temp.” “Of course you are. Well, since the destruction of the power plant back in Mississauga, we’ve have to rely on reserve power to keep the teleportation pads running; setting them to cool down after every 15 minutes. The one’s that you just took coming in here won’t be ready until then. But if you’re in that much of a hurry, then I may suggest the set of warp pads waiting at the top of this R&D branch. It should be available by the time you get there.” Soon enough does it come to be the man’s turn in front of the 2-D device, remaining utterly calm as the machine fires out a red triangle and merges him against the chrome wall behind him. Once fully forming within the slab of steel is him and the wall lifted straight through the slot along the ceiling, soon lowering back down for it to be Clara’s turn to step up.

Watching as the slab of metal lowers back in, she finds the surface that once held the scientist she had talked to now left completely unmarked; the young woman taking the moment to breathe before she comes to be her turn. Wonder what turning into a flat plain like that must feel like? What does this machine even do to turn people as flat as the wall itself? Does the entire process hurt while transitioning different dimensions? Hearing a deliberately loud cough behind her, Clara glances back to find the line of scientist all glaring to the young woman; their sneering eyes urging her to climb up onto the platform and stand in front of the device.

Once hearing the machine before her start to let out an audible hum, the hooded scientist shuts her eyes tight as she braces for it to fire; the red glow coming from the tip shining through her eyelids. The machine finally fires out a bright red triangle from its very tip, the triangular light slamming the young lady against the wall behind her and pushing her further in; Clara feeling her very mass flattening against the chrome slat. Opening her eyes, the scientist glances through her body to find herself actively being swallowed straight into the sheet of steel; watching as her arms and legs are scrunched and compressed further and further inward.

After the entire process is finished, the young woman attempts to turn herself around to have a little look; but discovers herself to be within a simple square; the scientist moving her arms to find them to be as flat as pancakes. When walking over to the edge of the square, she slides her arm against its edge to find it as hard as a solid wall; the scientist stomping on the edge she walks on to find the same sort of physics to apply. After a moment does the slab of metal that Clara stands within begin to arise from the floor that she had once stood on; the sudden liftoff causing the young woman to fall over onto the bottom edge of the square. Its in pulling herself up does she witness the piece of metal start to slide within the thin slot above; her entire view soon engulfed in a blanketing darkness.

Dwelling through the flat plan of darkness, the scientists slide through the void comes to a swift end when rising towards an illuminating crack that awaits above; the chrome wall that Clara is carried within slipping right through the slot and out on the other side. When her eyes soon adjust to the bright light, the young woman slowly cracks both of them open to behold the rest of the facility that lies on the other side; her 2-D mouth going agap when viewing an entire maze of connecting steel walls awaiting above. While some of these walls remain completely stationary, other panels shift and detach themselves from the other metallic pathway; some stopping and reconnecting to other parts of the massive steel maze while others simply rotate about and change to bridge the gaps between a set of walkways. Stationed and traversing through these shinning walls of steel be countless lab coated scientists such as herself, with each one of them compressed and scrunched as flat as a portrait on the wall. Among the walls do a lot of them remain within dead ends and close off sections that hold machinery and devices as flat as themselves; most of them holding what seemed to be everyday objects such as balls, chairs, drinks, food, weapons, holo phones, and all sorts of other miscellaneous stuff to observed their reaction to a 2-D plane. This entire iron maze of flat dimensions and compressed people all could be seen revolving around a leviathan glass sphere containing a swirling yellow power placed in the very center of the chamber, with the glass held in place by a set of eight prongs that stretch out from the top and bottom.

When the slab of metal that she stands within finally attaches itself to a steel path leading deeper within, Clara starts her bizarre side scrolling trek through this giant maze of flat chromatic walls; strolling along their surface as they curve along and outward. Soon does the flat young woman come across a runway that curves upwards and straight into the other direction; Clara feeling her center of gravity shift in the direction of the outer rim as she proceeds through. To be honest, it ain’t that much different to the gravitational sidewalks set up through the city below; even though it is a rather interesting take on them.

Eventually in her little waltz through the maze, the scientist comes to what seems to her like a simple dead end; coming to the very edge and feeling the end of the way be as solid as any other wall. Wonder how they keep people from falling off the edges? Could it be a byproduct to the shift in dimensions? In any case, it doesn’t seem like there’s much left over here. Might as well turn back. But before Clara could begin to retrace her steps, she flips herself back to discover the part of the wall that she stands in begin to break apart from the rest of the wall that she came from; the hooded scientist backing away and huddling in the corner as the square begins to hover through the air. While keeping herself pressed against the same exact corner, the slab of steel she sits within starts to flip and turn about while traveling through the facility, revolving around the yellow core in the middle until its very edge clashes against another stretch of flat chrome. Once the piece she sits in attaches itself to the other section of the maze, the scientist falls to the floor as she wall she sat against merges to the other set of steel; slowly arising from the bottom part of the pathway while clutching her stomach. Just stay down there, chips. Can’t have you coming up out in a place like this.

Continuing forth at a more calming and less dizzying pace, the flat scientist discovers before her another crossroads; finding this four way intersection to connected by a straight slab of metal that spins right in the middle and constantly attaches and detaches itself between the three other paths awaiting her. Even though she feels the dread of what sort of sickening sensation a ride like this would entail, Clara nonetheless braves it through and steps within the spinning stretch of chrome plating as soon as one of its ends stops before her; keeping a steady hold of where she stands as she starts to spin once more. God, which way is even up at this point? Practically went in almost every direction possible in this dimension; its hard to keep track of what’s way is what like this. At least in the third dimension, you could find the floor and that’d give you enough to go by. Here, most of this chamber that all this is in practically looks the same. It’s hard to imagine the other scientist’s in here knowing where they need to go in this whole 2-D maze.

Daring to take a little gaze out to her spinning surroundings, the young scientist glares out to the rest of the 2-D laboratory and stares to the columns that keep the core in the dead center of the facility; tracing the path she had walked through so far to gauge which ways are up and down. When finally realizing the spinning slab she resides in about to makes its vertical stop, Clara makes a break towards the other side before it could cease; watching as the slab of steel attaches itself to the other end of the upward road. While seeing this brief moment about to slip by her, the hooded woman lunges forth to the end as fast as her legs could go; leaping out to the other end once making it to the final stretch. Once sliding out from the end of the stretching wall of chrome, the scientist rises from the side of the wall and glances back to watch as the metal rectangle she had raced through detaches itself from the steel she stands within; the stainless chromatic path behind her spinning about once again. After readjusting her lab coat’s hood, Clara continues further down the chamber of giant 2-D maze; trudging her way further up towards the very top of the research and development facility.

Once getting a little further ways up through the facility of 2-D walls, the young woman comes across another seemingly dead end; the scientist knowing full well that is nowhere near the case and gazes beyond the edge of the end to see what lies beyond. The scientist comes to discover stationed on the other side an entire set of steel square rearranging themselves in the center of an octo directional crossroads; with two ends hanging off of each of the sides. Clara soon comes to witness the set of floating squares before her begin to come together to form a segmented bridge, connecting at least four of the eight paths within the intersection. When noticing the bridge that formed before her attached to one of the walls leading further up the chamber; the hooded young woman proceeds further towards the part of the newly formed bridge leading up. In her little stroll through the freshly formed bridge of squares, the scientist starts to feel the entire road she stands within begin to tremble; the squares that make up the four way bridge beginning to break themselves apart. Once each and every slab of metal that makes up the bridge starts to shuffle about, the scientist that remains trapped within one of these squares hugs the very corner as it tosses and turns through the air; enduring the dizzying sensation and attempting to keep the contents of her stomach down. Thankfully for the young scientist, her twirling whirl within the square fails to last very long; each and every slab of metal hovering in the middle of the intersection swiftly reattaching themselves from one another.

When her vomit inducing ride finally come to a stop, the young scientist stands back on her own two feet to discover all the squares to have formed one huge H; the top and bottom columns of the letter connecting both the top and bottom parts of the eight way crossroads. Finding herself stationed along the horizontal line connecting the columns of the letter, Clara takes off towards the other side; keeping her eyes locked to the upper right road leading further up the chamber. Coming up along the other side, the hooded woman leaps right towards the right sided line of the H; rolling along the outer side of the column as she feels her center of gravity being pulled in that direction. Swiftly getting back on her feet, the scientist races up towards the very top of the column; feeling the squares she runs through making up the H starting to tremble. With one more lunge forth does the young lady managed to leap right through the very end of the bridge; stepping through the path leading further up just as the H behind her breaks itself apart.

As her racing sprint slows down into a calming stride, Clara strolls upwards towards the very top of the research and development chamber; discovering the very ceiling to be littered with several slots like the one she had slipped through. Reaching the very end of the wall she walks up through, the scientist stops right at the dead end closest to one of the slits in the roof; standing before the edge of the square as it detaches itself from the path she had strolled. Once breaking off from the slab of steel behind it, the sheet of metal that Clara stands within rises up to the chamber ceiling and towards one of the slots that decorate its surface; the square slipping right through into the awaiting darkness.

The slat of steel sliding right through the slot, the scientist waiting within finds the square having stopped right inside a small chamber like the one she had first entered; the only thing awaiting in front of her being a machine similar to the one that had flattened her, with its sharp steel tip aimed right at the slab of metal. Out from its very tip does the device fire out a blue triangle upon the very square that Clara stands in; its indigo glow enveloping the entire surface of the metal, all while the luminescence starts to pull the scientist within out from the face of the wall. While feeling herself being pulled out of the steel slat, Clara looks through herself to find part of her body returning to its original dimensions; those flat and stiff feelings she had while compressed now being buffed right out of her.

Soon enough does the scientist’s entire body return to the dimensions it once was; the indigo glow that enveloped her dissipating and letting her fall to the platform beneath her. After the entire trans-dimensional process had finished, the young woman slinks off the platform and stumbles off in a random directions while clutching her stomach; feeling her insides ready to burst at the seems. Opening her mouth, an entire mess of half digested cheese puffs and tea comes expelling out from the poor woman’s stomach; the mix of vomit and water spreading across the floor. Once the contents of her stomach had been emptied, Clara lets a pained groan escape while slowly pulling herself off the floor; sidestepping the mess she made while stumbling towards the door on the other end of the room. Good god, that was hellishly painful for the old stomach; just going through constantly shifting and moving maze like that one. Ahh, literally moments away from just blowing chunks. How would even vomiting in a compressed 2-D environment even work anyway? Would it even spill on the side or would it just come out as a splat on the wall…Eh, best not to think in too deep about that and move on. The clocks a ticking.

Stepping straight through the intangible doorway, the young woman wipes the lips of her mouth with the sleeve of her lab coat; clearing her throat before staring out to the lobby she had just walked inside. Her sickening eyes widen discovering the lobby to house an entire assortment of small teleportation pads; each of them sporting a unique color much like the last batch of platforms she used. And just like the last huddle of pads, absolutely none of them are labeled in any sort of way. Okay, lets think back. That one scientist claimed that Arthur could usually be found working in K-labs time manipulation research and division branch, but which one of these pads leads there? Dammit, why don’t these people use normal labels; not have to do any of this guess work bullcrap!? Alright fine, wherever any of these end up, just hope none of them aren’t as stomach churning as this floor was. Feel kinda sorry for anyone that stumbles across that mess.

Facing the wide assortment of colorful warp pads before her, the young scientist glides her finger through the air in their direction; her other finger rubbing her chin while pondering which of them may lead to the right branch. Gonna have to be careful this time; who knows what sort of twisted and reality bending experiments that these guys could be conduct- “Holy hell! Who the hell puked on the fucking floor!?” she hears someone in the other room scream. This mans pissed off tone cutting straight through her thoughts more than urges the young woman to hurry and pick a portal to take; dashing straight onto the platform and disappearing in a flash of glimmering lights.

Reappearing upon the other side of the warp pad she had randomly chosen, the young scientist leaps forth once the glimmering lights dissipate; her eyes beholding nothing but a simple tunneling hall like the one she had ventured through with the tour group. Okay, good. This facility’s actually in the same dimension all the way through. Maybe the trip through here won’t be as stomach churning as the last. After a relieved breath escapes from between her lips, Clara proceeds through the cylinder hallways in a far more careful pace; keeping her eyes peeled for any hints of which branch she wound up being warped to.

When the hooded young scientist readies to pass by an open doorway, she takes a little stop when discovering the answer within a room set along the side; witnessing before her a whole group of scientists all observing an automaton of metal and flesh. With nothing but its bulky arms of raw steel, the scientist that surround the cyborg all watch and take notes on their holopads as she lifts what looks to be a 20 ton weight over her head.

Glancing over to the opposite side of the circular hallway, Clara peers through another clear doorway to behold another cyborg in the other room; a mans head and torso surgically attached to the slithering body of a metallic snake. Her and the other scientist’s watch as the cyborg serpent slithers straight up a clean chromatic pole up towards a platform waiting atop; reaching to the perch in next to record time.

Venture over to another open doorway at the end of the cylinder tunnel, Clara can’t help but take a little glance within to discover yet another wondrous chimeric cyborg surrounded by a group of watching scientists; the woman they glue their eyes upon housing several metallic legs planted throughout her body. All of them observe closely as the spider like woman swiftly scuttles along the curved floor and straight up a vertically linear wall, swiftly reaching the very roof of the chamber and dropping straight back down towards the ground. Though the spider woman’s proves to be rather shaken, she nonetheless manages to gracefully land on all of her mechanical legs; the group of scientist’s clapping from her clean descent.

Taking one more stop right in front of another open door on her way, the hooded woman proves to be caught rather off guard when discovering the cyborg that dwells within; the few scientist’s that stand within all watching as a severed man’s head starts to ascend off the floor as a myriad of metal parts revolve around him. While hovering over the bottom of the chamber, the head emits out a pulsing purple light that reaches the pieces of steel surrounding him; each and every one of them scrambling across one another to form what seemed to be a giant broadsword. Within this form does the head begin to swing the sharp end of the newly formed blade like one would use an actual sword; slashing and stabbing the very air around him for the scientist’s below to watch. Breaking out from the sword form, the float head rearranges the parts he commands with another pulse of purple light; this time assembling together to take the form of a giant dragon. While partaking the form of this fictional beast, the man glides throughout the chamber while flapping his giant makeshift wings; each flap creating a small wind across the entire chamber. While landing back onto the ground, the severed head breaks itself apart one more time and begins to piece itself back together before the group of scientists; swiftly taking the form of one of the more stout scientist among them all. While the rest of them can’t help but quietly giggle, the woman that the cyborg mimic’s looks upon the severed head with a disgruntled stare; her gaze growing bitter as the cyborg does a ridiculously stupid dance while in her form. Simply amazing seeing such advancements. Seems the longer time spent here, the further the advancements in modern science and ingenuity show how far they’ve progressed. The progress of humanity really has come an extremely long way from what it used to be.

While left utter enthralled by the site of the cyborgs demonstration, Clara watches as the severed head breaks its current form apart; each of its pieces blasting away from the cyborgs main head and scatter throughout the entire chamber. One of the wayward pieces careens out towards the young woman’s way and threatens to shoot itself straight through her head; Clara hitting the deck before the metallic part could practically and ironically decapitate her. After the steel part craters within the side of the cylinder hallway, Clara glances up from where she lies to find the stout scientist holding her hand out down to her while asking: “Are you alright there?” “Uh, yeah. Think so.” the young woman answers while taking the scientist’s hand; the short woman helping her off chrome floor. “I am so terribly sorry about that. Normally we have the chamber doors shut tight during this kind of field test; but ever since the blackout in Mississauga, the technicians have been having a rather hard time rerouting the power to certain functions. I suppose we should be thankful that the teleporters are still operational.” “What about you guys? None of you seem to have any sort of protection while watching these tests.” Clara then brings up. “Oh, don’t worry so much about that. These coats off ours come packaged with shielding.” Saying this does the stout woman tap her left shoulder, Clara witnessing a light blue barrier envelope the scientist; the blue shield soon turning utterly invisible before her very eyes. “Oh, I see.” the hooded woman then responds with; tapping her own shoulder and witnessing her coat erect a light blue shield along her body. “I assume since you were simply going through the halls, you didn’t think you need it; right?” “Eh he, read me like a book.”

“Speaking of reading, mind telling me what you are doing on this floor? You’re not to be stationed within the cyborgorganic branch, are you?” “Ah no, not really. Hate to admit this, But a wound up taking the wrong warp pad trying to find my way to the time manipulation branch. Swear I wouldn’t have wound up here if they’d just label those pads.” “I wholeheartedly agree. Honestly, the higher up’s idiotic notion that color coding the teleporters has proven more counter productive than anything else. If you are aiming to go to the time R&D division, then I would suggest taking the crimson warp pad stationed alongside the others at the very right end of this floor.” “Thanks for the info there. Really helps.” Clara thanks the woman with while beginning to head out. Before the hooded woman could take off further down the circular tunnels, she stops dead in her tracks when the stout scientist behind her then questions her with. “Mind enlightening me as to why you are going to that particular floor?” “Oh uh. I have to report there for a temp position. And I’m kinda running a little late as is, so...See ya.” Clara makes up before bolting down the hall. “Hmm...”

Returning to the testing chamber, the short woman approaches her fellow scientists to ask them all if: “Do any of you recall any sort of reports of a temp working in the Time R&D division?” “Uh, not really.” “Not one that I’ve seen.” “I check the reports this morning, and there wasn’t anything like that.” “I see...Gentlemen, I fear we may a spy stalking through our halls. Someone grab a line with the higher ups, let them know that the need to send the military our way.” the woman demands. “Whoa whoa whoa, the military!? Don’t you think that might be too extreme for just one spy?” one of the other scientist asks. “I don’t have to remind you how K-labs is one of the greatest scientific stations throughout the entire planet, do I? The proud scientist that dwell within this building tirelessly work to develop ways to manipulate the very fabric of reality. If any of those secrets were to leak now, it would be utterly disastrous.”

With the directions that the scientist had kindly given to her, the hooded young woman races through the twisting cylinder hallways; keeping her eyes locked to the path ahead and ignores any other open doors or windows that lay along her path. Can’t bare to get distracted now. Not during what could be the final stretch. This sentiment keeps echoing within her head as she focuses on the halls that lie ahead of her; her vigilant determination paying off when turning the curve and discovering another cluster of warp pads before her. The hooded scientist’s eyes scan through the countless set of colorful warp pads set before her, remembering which one of the them the scientist had told her leads to her destination. She said the crimson one lead to the Time research and development floor, right? It should be here somewhere. Finally do her eyes manage to find the exact warp pad that the scientist had told her to take; Clara darting right onto the platform to vanish in a spinning clock gear of red light.

The very next moment does the hooded scientist reappear back in reality via a flashing light of a clockwork gear; Clara falling flat on her face as soon as she returns to the physical world. As a pained moan leaves her lungs, the young woman picks herself off the tiled floor and comes to behold what lies where she had just warped to; astonished to discover herself standing right in the middle of a crimson red void, with clockwork cogs and gear shaped lights floating through the red space. Where...what...what is this place?...It’s...it’s nothing but a deep red abyss for miles on end. Is this even K-labs anymore? Is this even earth anymore? How is even possible to warp to a place like this? Did...did that scientist lie?

Simply taking a couple of steps in her astonished awe, the young woman notices pieces of the floor assembling before her; continuing to walk forward and beholding a hallway piece itself together from the red void. This is...a hallway. All this is still inside the building. Is eye’s perception within this space warped, or is it something else entirely? Something that bends the very fabric of this plane of existence… … Never mind. Too much is at steak right now to stop and think over all this. Need to find Arthur among all of this. Cementing this goal in her head, the young woman starts her journey through the hallway that makes up the red void surrounding her; the path that she had trekked through breaking apart behind her as she heads further down.

Once going a little ways deeper within the hallway that assembles from the red void surrounding her, Clara comes to discover a glowing heavenly square shinning out in the distance; its glimmering piercing through the red void that surrounds it. With the illuminating light in site, the hooded scientist sprints off towards its distinctive glow; following the path that the void assembles for her in her race towards the light. Soon does she witness the light begin to be trapped within the confines of a solid flat wall; all kept with the frame of a transparent window. As she closes in on the mysterious window of this red abyss, her eyes start to adjust to its brilliant glow; eventually casting the blinding light aside and letting Clara behold the amazing site that lies beyond it.

Laying out before her bared the unbelievable scene of the Jurassic ages; complete with tropical and incredible foliage, massive fungi towering as all as trees, volcano’s that waft smoke up into the clouds, and several leviathan dinosaurs that cross along the very horizon. What is this? Raising her hand up to the windows face, the wondrous young woman is left shocked when her very palm fails to touch even a hint of glass; discovering then and there the window to be a portal through into this very scene. Is this...a simulation?

Eager to answer this very question, Clara lifts her legs up to the very window in front of her and begins to climb over into the scenery set before; hearing the grass shift beneath her feet as she steps into the age. Standing within this era’s she could feel the very winds bellow through her body, the grass brushing against her knee’s; the harsh sun glimmering its light within her very eye. This...this isn’t a simulation. It’s all real. The foliage and tree’s so wild and free. The wildlife vast and gigantic. The very air is uh...is pretty hard to breath, not gonna lie.

Right in the midst of admiring the sprawling scene of the time period set before her, the awing scientist peeks out into the distance just in time to discover a colossal T-rex stomping towards where she stands; its roar echoing out beyond the horizon and causing the young woman’s body to tremble. With the approaching dino being more then enough incentive to retreat back the way she came, Clara dashes back towards the window behind her and leaps right through the frame; rising from the floor and glancing back to find the dino that spotted her still charging after. While Clara does brace herself for the beasts inevitable tackle, alas; its charge refuses to even connect to any part of the window, failing to touch a single bit of the scientist as it nor the window as it simply phases right past.

After that whole scare passes on by, the scientist takes a couple moment to herself to breath and calm down; soon pulling herself off the floor and approaching the window once again. While taking in another breathtaking gaze out into the Jurassic era set in front of her, Clara waves her hand right through the window and feels the cooling breeze that brushes past her finger once more. This literally is a window straight into the past. A window into a time long since forgotten. How does this even come close to possible?

Giving herself a look out into the red void laying beyond the hall, she discovers countless windows of glowing bright light shinning through the crimson abyss; her mind drifting along in wonderment of what other time periods may lie beyond their shining glow. Maybe taking the time orb isn’t the only option; one of these windows may lead to the moment before the war. Walking away from the window leading into the age of dinosaurs, the hooded scientist starts to venture through the halls that constantly form out before her; Clara’s eyes glued to the closest window she finds nearby.

In her amazing trip through the time research and development branch, the eagerly curious scientist peeks out through every window that she happens upon in her little tour through the floor; peering into dozens upon dozens of historical ages and different era’s of the world. These windows let Clara gaze out into the extended scenery set beyond their frame, some let her watch era’s unfold such as the roman empires vast rule; the primordial sun shinning its glow down upon the ancient capital of marble and stone. The ancient pyramids, where one could peer out to the very sides of the halfway built monuments to witness the slaves tirelessly carry stone after stone to the top. The medieval era, where she discovers a jousting match being held within the court yard of an ancient castle. The middle of the civil war; witnessing dozens of people in red and blue fire their rifles to one another. The end of the slave era, where Lincoln present and signs the Emancipation Proclamation to an entire crowd; with a mixture of cheers and boo’s flooding the air. The battlefield of world war 1, discovering the people fighting to the death over dozens of left abandoned corpses littering the burnt earth. The march of the German Nazi army, the sound of goosestepping stomps blending with the echoing rambles of Hitlers speech. The prosperous era of the 80’s, where neon colors and zig zag patterns laid bare across the clothing and buildings of the era. The technological boom that the 2000’s had assured in, where a couple of people could be seen walking around with their fancy new Iphones; caring little of the people that they bumped into. The beginning of the 2020’s, where the streets of normally bustling cities now seem baron and quiet; with not a soul wondering the concrete streets. The beginning of the U.S and Canadain war, where upon thousands of people shower the fields of the border with their own bullets and blood. The devastating end of the war, where upon thousands of missiles and bombs could be seem raining down upon the metropolis of Louisville. The borders of blood could be seen being divided by a massive steel wall being constructed by armored Canadian soldiers; the troops keeping back any people that attempt to go near. And finally could she witness the ever present wastelands resulting from this horrible destruction, with nothing but the dry sun and the passing winds beating down upon the wastes; a single figure seen riding something in the background and traveling across the harsh lands.

None of them, not a single window gives a specific date of what point in time they breach. Sure, they show noteworthy moments in human history; but not a one holds an exact date for what time they happen to show. Simply jumping through one of these windows and not looking back wouldn’t be the smartest idea; that is if one found the thought of simply waiting countless years for the right moment rather appealing. Even then, there’d be countless risks to missing the date to strike; if anybody could remember the precise date for that many ages. It probably be a far smoother ride to simply punch the exact date into the time orb and work from there; that’s assuming that Arthur would say where it is. Considering all that he had done, he could’ve gone back and change it all at anytime by now, but he chose not to...Why?

Breaking her stare away from one of the windows through time, the hooded young woman notices a figure boasting a long mane of blonde locks ascending through the red void of cogs and gears that the halls float within; Clara’s eyes widening when discovering that very rising figures distinct features to be the nearly the exact same as the man in the photo with her. Same eyes, same nose, same smile...It’s...really him. He’s actually here in the flesh. I...can’t believe it...He looks so...so content and happy…As if he’s in the flesh of his greatest dream.

Witnessing the blonde young man finally stand upon his own two feet right in the middle of the void, Clara watches as the man walks off and vanish within the crimson abyss; the hooded scientist almost immediately sprinting off in the direction she had seen him proceed through. During her little race through the red space of echoing time, the hallways that form before the rushing scientist show her taking every ascending tunnel, turn, and curving corner she could while sprinting off where she saw Arthur disappear; Clara’s eyes shifting back and forth between the upcoming path that assembles before her and where her friend had vanished. This incredibly long and grueling journey across the scarred North America has all lead to this moment; all the blood, sweat and tears that have been spilled in this adventure, all of it to reach him. But weather he is responsible for changing America into the scarred lands that it is is something that shall be truly be uncovered. No matter what sort of changes that he had gone through during his time in this future; the man has not once told a single lie to the people around him. Not when he admitted to nabbing someone else’s food from the fridge, not when he wound up telling everyone that he had pissed in the sink in the bathroom, not even when he wound up ruining a whole year’s worth of research in just a few short moments. Every single one of those times, he gladly took the fall and punishment that had came upon him for his actions; sparring anyone else of the ire that had been hastily blamed on others. The man was never really skilled in deceiving others, so why would he come to fib now?

The hooded scientist’s hasty race through the assembling hallway eventually leads to the very exact spot she had witnessed her long lost friend disappear to; a giant spherical chamber bound by a single spinning clockwork gear with nothing but a single doorway leading right inside. Before she decides to head straight on in, Clara takes this little moment of reprise to take in a deep breath; knowing full well this encounter had long been anticipated. Just when she ready to head right through the door, an entire stamped of scientist’s all come pouring out from within the chamber; the whole flock of departing scientist forcing the young woman that stands in their way against the metal outer rim of the hallway. Thankfully for Clara, the crowd of scientists disperses just as quick as they had come racing out; the hooded woman they had unknowingly pushed aside slumping onto the floor once the last of them departs. Soon after does the young woman pulls herself right off the floor and shake off the slamming impact that the leaving horde had given her; brushing off any sort of dust or dirt that had been caught on her as she head for the door.

Finally phasing through the intangible doorway herself, the hooded woman comes to behold the inside of the chamber to boast clusters of windows that all peer into different points in human history that decorate every single wall of the circular chamber that she enters. Standing right in the middle of a transparent glass platform be a single blonde young man; the man she had seen left enamored by the countless windows into the past that surround him; all while taking notes upon a holographic notepad in his arms. His admiring focus is then startled when hearing the young woman that had just entered call to him with: “Arthur?” After jumping from the sudden voice, the young man turns away from the dozens of windows and out towards the exit; discovering the hooded scientist wandering towards him while continuing with: “I-is that really you?” “Uh...Yeah, that’s me. Are you a fan that sneaked in here just to meet me?” the blonde man questions with a slightly meek manner. “What?...I-” “Cause if you are, I’d be more then happy to meet with people interested in my work. Though I’m not sure when I’ll be free to, to be honest. The countless hours that just fly by while delving into all this scientific research escapes me something. Heck, I sometimes forget to even eat, I’m so enthralled by it all.” “Wha-...Arthur, I’m not some kind of deranged fangirl. I-” “Oh, are you a new staff member that got transferred over to the time R&D division? Cause if you are, I’d be more than happy to show you around.”

Hearing the young man’s clueless questioning makes the woman before her ball her trembling fist; raising her voice to the oblivious man with: “Do you seriously not recognize me from my voice!?” “Uh, should I? I tend to be greeted by a bunch of people here almost everyday; it’s kinda hard to keep track of everyone.” The man’s truly sincere tone calms the hooded woman’s bout of fury; her trembling fist breaking apart as she lets out a small sigh. “I guess this shouldn’t be a surprise. It has been several months since we last saw each other.” “Can’t you please stop being so vague and just tell me who you are. You’re starting to scare me.” Grasping both sides of her hood, the young woman lets it flop right down onto the top of her back to let her brunette locks drop down to her shoulders; the very first site of the lady’s face causing the man to let his holopad drop onto the glass floor. The soft blue eyes, the long brunette hair, the arabic skin color; the young woman’s face finally starts to ring loud bells of familiarity within Arthur's very head; his entire body trembling as he bares the site of the lab coated woman before him. “Do you recognize me now, Arthur?” she then questions him.” “……...C-C-C…Clara?”

----------------------------------------------------------------

Close to the end here. The point to where it all comes to a close.

[cilldaracailin]

Under Pressure

The Story can also be found on AO3 here: http://www.archiveofourown.org/works/23570293/chapters/56548318

14

“Be Prepared... the meaning of the motto is that a scout must prepare himself by previous thinking out and practicing how to act on any accident or emergency so that he is never taken by surprise.”

“Shopping done.” She smiled looking to the two men who were still sitting as she had left them, Taron with his head leaning back against the shelf, and put the basket on the floor. She then took the few steps to where her shoulder bag was still on the floor where she had thrown it and picked it up. Opening the zip at the back, she pulled out a foil packet that had eight white tablets in it and shoved it in her jeans pocket and made her way back to her make shift camp.

“Right, something for the pain first I should think.” She said as he started to route through the basket with the water and pulled out the two bottles of orange gatorade. She knelt beside Taron and stretching over him, handed one bottle to Richard, who took it from her with a questioning look. “You’ve had a knock to your head too. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that bruise. I need you to drink some of this. You need the sugar and when I have helped Taron, we can look at your arms too.”

Richard looked down to his arms and saw the scrapes and smears of blood there and it wasn’t until Robyn had mentioned it that he started to feel the sting from the cuts, pure adrenaline running through his veins over the last hour.

“And I have two of these for you too.” Said Robyn as she reached into her pocket and pulled out the packet of paracetamol.

“No keep them for Taron,” said Richard. “He needs them more than me.”

“He can’t have all eight so you can have two.” Insisted Robyn as she pressed two out of the foil and handed them over Taron’s legs to Richard. “Please just take them.”

“I would listen to her.” Said Maggie as she came back with a plastic bottle of hot water and carefully put it on the ground.

“Don’t make her use her reverse phycology skills on you. You will cave.” Said Taron as he lifted his head and looked at Richard, raising a bloodied eyebrow.

Robyn grinned at Richard as he gave in and took the two tablets from her hand. “Down the hatch.” She said as she took the notepad and pen from Maggie was holding out to her as well as the sellotape and left them on the ground beside Taron’s legs.

“You are next.” She said to him “But I just want to check your pulse first if that is ok.” He nodded. “I am going to take it from your wrist.” She reached over and took his left arm and rested it on his thigh, palm up and while looking at her watch, placed two fingers on the inside of his wrist and counted each beat she felt for thirty seconds. Not overly satisfied with how fast his heart was beating, she put it down to the exertion he had just made to sit down as well as the pain he was feeling. She noted the time and his pulse down on the paper Maggie gave her, well aware that Taron was watching her every move. “Just keeping a little record for when you get to hospital. Helps the doctors if they have a little information.” She looked up to his questioning eyes. “You will thank me later.  Now this one is for you.” She picked up the other bottle of gatorade and opened the lid and gave it to him. “You definitely need the sugar. Drink.”

Taron took the bottle but didn’t lift it to his lips. He hadn’t drunk from the bottle of water she had left him either when Robyn had gone to go and get some supplies from the shelves. Hating to admit it, but he felt sick to his stomach, and the thought of drinking anything made him queasy.

“And I am going to give you three of these. The extra one won’t do you any harm and I am hoping it can just give you some more relief from the pain.” Taron placed the bottle down on the floor and took the tablets off Robyn looking at her with uneasy eyes. It was as if she could read his mind as she placed a hand on his knee. “Let’s start with one and go from there ok? We can stagger them if we need too.”

Robyn noticed that the colour which had returned to Taron’s cheeks, drained quickly as she handed him the tablets and she watched as he swallowed a few times, his left hand going to his stomach and immediately knew that he was feeling ill and she tried her best to keep her features straight. It was the last thing she needed, Taron feeling nauseous. It was the second sign she had seen from him in the last ten minutes that confirmed her fears that he had a concussion.

But even feeling sick, she watched as he put one tablet in his mouth and took a mouthful of gatorade, closing his eyes as he swallowed. He appreciated the small squeeze she gave his knee and with a breath took the other two tablets with a long drink. Leaning his head back against the shelf, he felt her take the bottle from his hand.

“I’m good.” He said as he felt her take his hand and gently rub the back of it with her fingers. He lifted his head and looked at her. “Honestly, I am ok.” In other words, they were staying down.

She didn’t know if it was those sad eyes looking at her, or that it was her nurturing nature and what she would automatically do if she was helping a hurt child but Robyn found herself leaning over Taron and carefully wrapped her right around his left shoulder in what she hoped was a reassuring half hug, taking care not to put pressure on his right arm. A little taken back at first, Taron then quickly lifted his left arm and returned the hug, embracing Robyn. Again, he was surprised to see that she could read his mind, savouring the comfort he got from the hug, wondering how she knew it was what he desperately needed at that moment in time.

“Let’s get you cleaned up then, yeah?” She said as she left the hug, giving his left shoulder a supportive rub.

“Yeah. I’m not a fan of the blood look.” He said echoing her words from earlier.

Robyn stood up and moved to the basket and emptied all the things out onto the floor, the two men looking on in interest at the contents of the basket and picked up the salt and brought it back beside Taron’s legs, before reaching out and grabbing the sanitary pads and cotton pads and then the sandwich bags and bag of ice and finally the nappy bags.

“This is like Bear Grylls.” Pointed out Richard.

“I used to be a girl scout. I have skills,” Replied Robyn as she opened up the sandwich bags and pulled two out, laying them on the floor before reaching for the sellotape. She then laid the end of one sandwich bag on top of the end of the other and sticky taped them together before turning the bags over and taping the other side. Using her teeth, which both Richard and Taron frowned at, she ripped open the bag of ice.

“Maggie can you hold the bottom sandwich bag open for me?”

“Sure.” Maggie held open the bag and Robyn filled the bag with enough ice so it would lay flat and then taped the top of the bag shut. Maggie flipped the bags over and Robyn did the same for the other side and then holding up her creation, she looked at Taron and Richard. “Home made ice pack.” She said shifting closer to Taron. “For your ribs.” She explained. “Can I?”

“Sure.”

With Taron’s arm in the sling, she had full access to his side and lightly pressed one ice bag to his ribs at his front and the second ice bag to his back, making sure his t-shirt was used as a barrier between the ice and his skin. Taron flinched as she pressed the ice pack a little firmer to him but had to admit the cold that was quickly seeping through the thin material of his t-shirt felt like heaven after the heated pain. “Think you can hold it?” she asked him.

“Yeah.” And he brought his left hand around to hold the ice pack for her.

“Twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off.” She said as she looked at her watch to take a rough note of the time. She then pulled another sandwich bag from the box and filled it a smaller amount of ice and taped it off. She got to her feet and moved over to beside Richard. “Let me see your face.” She asked and he obliged turning his head and she placed a cold right hand on his left cheek so she could get a better look at the bruising on his left temple.

“It was a candle.” He explained. “Though you probably knew …” His sentence was cut off with a hiss of pain as Robyn touched the dark bruise beside his eye.

“Sorry,” Robyn apologised. “You were lucky that candle didn’t hit your eye.” She delicately placed the make shift ice pack on his face. “I don’t have anything to cover this in, so take it off in ten minutes and then pop it back on in another ten minutes, ok?”

“Ok.” Replied Richard, taking the bag from her hands and holding it on his face. “Shit it’s cold.”

“It’ll help. Can’t have a bruise on your pretty face, now can we?” she smiled. “Now Taron, that shoulder.” Robyn moved around and knelt beside him again, noting a little colour had returned to his cheeks. “I am going to do my Bear Grylls impression again ok. Give me two minutes and we’ll get that cleaned and wrapped properly.”

She picked up the salt and one of the empty bottles of water and again using her teeth to open the bag of salt, poured some into the bottom of the bottle. She then reached for the bottle of hot water and carefully filled the empty bottle with the salt bottle half way, the salt dissolving in the heat of the water quickly. She stretched and pulled the basket with the cold water towards her and pulled out one of the two litre bottles and opening it, filled the remainder of the salt water with cold water. She then tipped some salt into the remaining hot water and topped it up with the rest of the cold water. She took the smaller bottles with the sports caps from the basket and opened those bottles, put the sports cap lids on both larger bottles and gave them a quick shake to make sure all the salt was dissolved.

“I feel like I am watching a kids science programme but I have no idea what you are doing?” commented Taron as he watched on fascinated.

“I am making saline solution for you.” And she looked at him where his tired green eyes opened wide. “It to clean your arm and head and all the little cuts you have. It’s basically sterile water, nothing bad. It’s good, I promise. It’s for Richard too.” She added. “We use it in work all the time with the kids to clean scrapes and cuts and it’s particularly good at getting sand out of little eyes.”

She gathered up the cotton and sanitary pads and moved right up to beside his arm. “It won’t be the water that will sting you, though I can’t make an absolute promise on that but I will do my upmost to try and not to hurt you.”

“I know you will.” Taron assured. After everything Robyn had done for him so far, he knew he could trust her.

“I need to open this sling and let your arm back down, but as soon as your wrapped up tight, it’s going back on ok? I will keep the weight off your arm.” Robyn reached over Taron and carefully undid the tight reef knot she had made at his right hand, but before she let it go completely, held his elbow in her left hand. She finished untying the knot and then carefully pulled the sling completely away from his body and guided his arm down towards the ground, resting his hand palm up on the floor, not missing the grimace on his face.

“You good?”

“Yeah it’s ok.”

“I am going to clean all the blood before I open that bandage.” Taron looked down to his arm, and she heard the intake of breath he made. When he had been lying down, he hadn’t been able to see the condition of his arm and now that he could, he felt a little woozy.

“You don’t have to look Taron. There’s a lot of blood. It’s a lot to take in.” Robyn picked up one of the luke warm bottles of water and pulled the cap open, a little hiss of air coming out. She then opened the packet of cotton pads and handed them to Maggie who was waiting beside her. Taron felt her place a hand under his upper arm and watched as she slowly poured the water on his arm under the bandage.

“It is too hot?” she asked him as she put the bottle down and took a cotton pad from Maggie and started to softly wipe the remains of the bloodied water away.

“No, it’s ok.” Replied Taron, his eyes still fixed on what she was doing despite the light-headedness.

Robyn made light work of cleaning his arm and then taking another two pads from Maggie poured some water onto them and gently wiped above the bandage, washing away the red residue from when she had previously poured water on his shoulder. Taron very much appreciated how delicate she was being with her movements, knowing she was trying her best to take extra care with him.

“That was the easy part.” She said as she collected all the bloodied cotton pads and put them to the side. She grabbed the packet of nappy bags and opening the seal, pulled one out, opened it and put the used cotton pads into it, putting it to the side. “Richard, you can take the ice off your head now. I may be concentrating on Taron but I haven’t forgotten about you.” Out of the corner of her eyes, she watched Richard take the ice away and lay it on the floor beside him.

She then poured some water over her hands, cleaning them and used a cotton pad to dry them, adding that one to the nappy bag too.

“Now don’t judge me for what I am going to use to wrap your arm ok? This place has no bandages so I have to improvise.”

Robyn grabbed two packets of the sanitary towel and ripped the packaging open.

“Well I can say this is a first for me.” Stated Taron. “Haven’t used one of those before.”

“They shall be used in an unconventional way.” Said Robyn as she pulled some individual wrapped pads out. “Ok let’s open this and cover it up again.”

Robyn took the tucked end of the bandage out and slowly unravelled the material from Taron’s arm, feeling a little more than concerned when she saw that it was soaked with blood but she continued until the bandage came right off, blood oozing from the wound and down his arm immediately. She knew she was going to regret the decision to take the bandage away, again breaking every first aid rule she knew, but she had to make sure that there was no glass in the cut.

She had to work fast so she picked up the bottle and lightly squeezed the water over the wound, hearing Taron’s moan as the water hit the wound. “I’m gonna get this done quickly Taron.” She took a cotton pad from Maggie and put her hand under his arm again and very slowly wiped the wound, feeling Taron’s arm flinch as she did so. She poured some more water over his arm and dabbed at the wound again. She couldn’t see any glass and after another splash of water and a clean, Robyn was satisfied.

She took more cotton pads from Maggie and dried his arm, this time avoiding the wound, though she had to clean more blood as it dribbled down his arm. As quick as she could, she picked up one of the sanitary pads and pulled the pink wrapper off and lightly placed the pad over the wound. While keeping one hand on the pad on his arm, she pulled the wrapped off another and laid another pad beside the first. She did this with six more pads, pressing down, her own face wincing along with Taron’s as he cursed under his breath.

“Nearly there Taron.” She added four more pads and then picked up the bloodied bandaged and wrapped it around his arm as before, but this time pulling much tighter, making sure much more pressure had been applied than Taron had felt before, which Taron very clearly protested against with another cruse that left his lips with a cry. She tucked the end of the bandage in again, giving her own sigh of relief. Using the water from the bottle she washed her hands to the side and when they were clean, only then looked to his face.

Taron knew to expect the pain but it didn’t mean he was ready for it. It felt more like a sting and a twinge until Robyn pulled the bandage exceedingly tight around his arm, that the excruciating pain returned and although he did try to hold his hurt in, he couldn’t and after he cursed, he had to cry out. He scrunched his eyes up, his head leaning back on the shelf, feeling stupid for letting more tears escape but it he couldn’t help it. He had no control over them at the moment but he did try to take control of his breathing just as Robyn had shown him. One thing that had been helping him throughout this whole test of strength was Robyn and once again he found her tight to his side, her hands on his cheeks wiping those tears away.

Having done it so often over the last hour, Robyn had just become accustomed to wiping his tears and she didn’t mind at all, as troubled green eyes opened to look at her and as much as his eyes were troubled, he could she was just as worried. He lifted his left hand and placed it on her own face, hoping he could convey to her that he was ok, or rather he would be ok.

He saw that Robyn was about to speak to her but she never got the chance to as a voice they hadn’t heard in a while boomed through the store and right down to them.

“Where is my Pretty? I need her to help me with something.”

[therearemonstersinthedark]

She’s my Ride Home

Chapter 2: Strike a Match, Pour Gasoline

An Avengers: Engame Fanwork

Pairings: Tony Stark & Nebula (friendship)

Genre: Adventure, general

Word Count: 1.9k

Rating: K+

Links: Fanfiction.net || Ao3

Summary:  Nebula thinks she gets it; how her sister came to love a Terran. Those 22 days spent drifting hopelessly through space on a broken ship may have been the best memories she’d ever had.

Author’s Notes: Titles from ‘She’s my Ride Home’ by Blue October.

Chapter 2: I'll be Reaching for the Stars With You

"Looks like a hurricane came through here." The Terran's voice rasped over the hum of the engine leaking from the opened panel.

Nebula carefully wound the plastic insulation tape over the exposed wire which had been sparking and threatening to blow a circuit to the atmosphere control unit. "Hurricanes occur over water."

Tony let out a burst of laughter that left him wheezing a moment later. "A woman after my own heart," he chuckled out between gasps of pain.

Nebula didn't look up from her work. "If I wanted your heart I would have cut it out while you slept."

His chuckles faded into a breathy laughter that sounded a little wetter than it had before to Nebula's enhanced hearing. "Natasha is going to love you."

She could hear him wandering around the room with uneven steps and inspecting various items that had been strewn about in the crash and then, later, her attempts to find the Terran some way to fight the infection that was clearly trying to take over his body.

"Space is like, a kind of ocean," he offered in a painfully transparent attempt at conversation. "Y'know, this is going to be a much longer trip if we can't even talk to each other."

"It's going to be long either way." She finished sealing off the defiant wire and tucked it away, closing the panel back into place.

"It's still nicer to have someone to talk to."

"Not always." Nebula turned to fix him with a sharp look which seemed to have no effect on him whatsoever.

He had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders which he must have stolen from someone's bed, and his forehead looked sweaty again, despite the fact that the ship was holding at low temperature right now.

"That brings me to a thought I had a while ago- how did I understand you all? Did your human friend Flash Gordon back there teach you all English or something?"

"You are hearing our universal translators," she said, rising to her feet and moving around him to sweep the items gathered on the table onto the floor. "I am not speaking English."

The Terran's eyebrows rose as he danced out of the way of the falling items. "That's handy. Don't suppose you have any extra ones I could tinker with while I'm here?"

"No." With the table cleared, Nebula retrieved the box of outdated medical supplies from where she had stowed it in a nearby drawer. She dropped the box onto the table and motioned for Tony to climb up. "Take off your bandage."

"I usually get dinner first," he grunted out as he draped the blanket onto a chair and hauled himself onto the table where she could see better in the ship's dimmed lighting. The action left him panting as he began unwinding the bandages she had applied on Titan.

He was struggling to get his arms behind himself without further aggravating his ribs and after a moment she smacked his hands away with a snort and took over.

"You're a lot grumpier than my usual nurses," he told her as she worked, apparently incapable of handling any length of silence. "Unless you count Pepper, then I guess this is about right."

The edges of his wound were puffy and red, and didn't appear to have made any progress towards healing beyond what she had done with the Suturim on Titan. It had only been a cycle and a half since he had received the wound, this infection was moving quickly.

She pressed her fingers experimentally against the flesh and he gave a yelp, jerking away from her touch.

"Don't poke it!" he snapped.

"The infection is trying to take hold. It's probably originating from somewhere deep inside of you." Whatever he had been run through with was certainly not very sterile. "I am not a surgeon, and we don't have anything here to kill the infection. You'll just have to take care of it and fight it off on your own."

"Great. I got space-rabies from a giant purple grape. I gotta say, this is not how I was expecting to go out, but don't worry, I'm a fighter. I've been told I'm too stubborn to die."

"You babble a lot," she breathed out, peeling open a new pack of antiseptic. "Is that normal for you, or has the fever affected your brain?"

"Uh... normal, I think. I'd worry more if it stopped-Ouch!" The Terran squirmed again as she scrubbed harshly against the open edges of his wound.

"Hold still."

"Well, you could be a little gentler about it, you know."

"This way will be over faster," she countered, ignoring his complaints and continuing to scrub away the dying flesh.

-x-

"So tell me about these 'Guardians' or whatever- what were they like?"

Nebula opened her eyes to regard her companion coldly. After spending the last half a cycle working tirelessly to keep the ship running, she was finally resting in the captain's seat. Tony was in the seat next to hers, huddled up under the same blanket from earlier, with strict instructions to wake her if something changed on the monitors. A glance around the cockpit proved that those requirements had not been met.

"Nothing has changed," she informed him, making it clear she was not amused, and closed her eyes.

"Sure it did."

Begrudgingly she cracked an eye open again to find him pointing at a series of numbers at the corner of a screen.

"This symbol here. It used to look like a... squiggly star thing, now it looks more like an upside-down happy face."

"It's the navigational system. The co-ordinates will change as we make progress across the galaxies."

"Oh." He squinted at the numbers. "Is that what it is? I can't read them."

"You wouldn't be able to understand what they meant anyways."

The cockpit was blissfully silent for all of three breaths.

"So this family of yours-"

"They were not my family," she answered tiredly, hoping to put an end to his curiosity. "They were my sister's."

"Doesn't that make them yours, too?

"Thanos stole us both from our homeworlds when we were children. We do not share blood."

"But you were raised together? So you must have been close, right?"

"Our father would pit us against each other in battle. Whenever I lost to Gamora, he would replace some part of me in the hopes of creating her an equal."

His brows raised as he stared at her as though noticing her modifications for the first time.

She leaned back and closed her eyes once more so she didn't have to see his face while he counted the failures immortalized into her flesh.

-x-

"Hey Nebula, what is this?"

Nebula set her tools down to accept the crinkling silver packet he was handing down to where she sat cross-legged on the floor. "It's food," she told him flatly. "You eat it."

"Yeah, I figured that, but what is it? I can't read the print, and I don't know if it's bad or just taste like shit."

She flipped the bag over in her hand to scan over the sparse labeling. "It's expired." That was disgusting. How had her sister lived with these idiots?

Tony tugged the ever-present blanket a bit tighter around his shoulders. "Expired like 'the grocery store can't sell it anymore,' or expired like 'time to call poison control?'"

A cautious sniff of the contents revealed it was just old, not rotten. "It's stale. You'll be fine." She handed the packet back to the nervous Terran. They couldn't really afford to be picky right now anyways. The Guardians had not kept a well-stocked ship, and they were a long way from fresh supplies, with no working radio and no way to send a hail for help. "Just don't break a tooth."

The Terran gave a grunt of acknowledgment and accepted the bag back awkwardly with his left hand, his right one clinging stubbornly to his side. Now that she looked, he seemed to be hunched over even more than he had been when she had cleaned the wound that afternoon. It was nearing what should be the middle of the night cycle now. He'd done little but sleep in the time between, he shouldn't look so terrible.

She took in a deep breath and let it out with a growl of frustration as she rose to her feet, abandoning her current project. It was hopeless anyways. The communication systems had been smashed and fried beyond what they had to the means to repair.

"Get on the table," she ordered, yanking open the drawer she had stored the medical supplies in with much more force than necessary.

"You can't want to change the bandage again already?" he asked, but struggled onto the table as requested. "How many rolls of that stuff do we even have?"

"It doesn't matter," she grumbled through her teeth, locating the medical kit she was after and returning to peel the bandage up enough to catch a glimpse of the discolored flesh underneath. "Your infection is getting worse."

The edges of the cut were starting to ooze an ugly yellow puss and, underneath, parts were turning a deep purple which was spreading through the nearby veins, creating dark spider-webs lacing ominously up his side.

"Stay here." She stalked off into the ship's bathroom, locating a clean towel and ripping it into strips then filling a cup with hot water from the sink. Next, she tore through the cupboards and drawers until she found the salt. It was standard for most ships to carry some, at least. Most life forms required it to survive, and if you were desperate enough it had other uses. She placed her gathered items onto the table next to Tony, who was holding his side protectively and frowning down at her like he was already dreading what was to come.

When the bandage was unwound and the pus and dead tissue scraped from the wound she dunked a strip of towel into the warm salt water and handed it to the Terran who was laying misty-eyed with pain on the table.

"Soak it now."

He swallowed thickly as he accepted the scrap of cloth and pressed it against his raw flesh.

"We'll have to do this several times a cycle. I'll come back later to help you re-bandage it."

She left him on the table and returned to her hopeless attempt to draw the communication lines back to life long enough to send out an emergency hail.

End Chapter 2

[pocketfulofshards]

Dream Writing Exercise

Because sometimes my dreams make for a crazy story.

I woke up, lying on a cold floor, and almost immediately a sharp pain seared through my skull. I tentatively reached a hand to the back of my head to touch the offending area, and I flinched when I felt the hair matted by blood around what felt like a rapidly swelling goose egg. I pulled myself to a sitting position, taking in my surroundings. Black plastic sacks, metal drums, and cold gray walls surrounded me, the only light streaming in from a small circular window. A porthole? I wondered, slowly rising to my feet. I was instantly yanked down to the floor again. A young woman with fearful brown eyes was grasping my hand, her light brown skin cast with a sickly pallor.

"They will see you!" she hissed, but even as she spoke her words were a weak whisper.

She dropped her hand to her side, clearly exhausted. I scanned her body. There were no signs of outward injury, but her eyes were ringed with dark circles, and a few tendrils of brown hair had escaped a messy ponytail to cling to her sweaty brow.

"What happened to you? Where am I?" I whispered to her, taking her cue to not alert whoever it was that had her so terrified.

"We're still on the military ship, Raven...we got captured. They injected all of us with the experimental serum, but you fought back and they struck you over the head and left you to die. Don't you remember?"

I shook my head. She had called me Raven, and she had rested her hand on my forearm with a friendly familiarity.

"I'm sorry," I began slowly, taking a deep breath, "but do I know you?" Her eyes widened, lips parting as she gasped. "Raven, it's me. Priya. We've been friends, served together in the rebellion…for years."

I shook my head slightly, my mind spinning as I tried to recall her face.

"I'm sorry…perhaps the injury…" I gestured to the lump on my skull.

"You may have lost your memories," she finished, shoulders drooping.

"I –” I stopped. I didn't know what to say. I now had more questions than answers, and wasn't sure where to start. Luckily, Priya spoke first.

"Listen, Raven. I'm dying. The others have already succumbed." She gestured to the black plastic sacks - not sacks at all, I realized. Body bags.

"Who….who were they?" I choked out.

"The rest of our team. You need to get out of here and complete our mission."

"What mission?" I asked, bewildered. The throbbing in my head was growing worse.

"Long story, one that I don't have time to tell," she panted, pausing for a moment as footsteps were heard passing by. Once they had faded into silence, she turned to me, pressing a small vial and a packet of folded papers into my hand.

"Your name is Raven. I don't know your last name - safety precaution, we don't use last names in our faction. We are with the rebellion. We infiltrated this military ship to get these crucial pieces of information, so that we have a hope of winning the war. You need to escape, get to shore and get back to our commander. There will be a crowd on the docks – look for Diego.”

“Diego?” The name didn't spark any memories.

“Dark hair, short beard, brown skin, brown eyes - has a tattoo like this."

She pushed up her sleeve to reveal the image of a rising sun, inked onto her forearm. Her breathing had become more laborious, her skin ashen, as if the very movement exhausted her. I looked at my bare arm – I had a tattoo to match.

"He will be looking for you – maybe...maybe you'll remember him. Give the vial and papers to him."

I was frozen, trying to absorb her words.

"Raven, do you understand? You must finish what we started."

Her eyes were pleading as she slumped back against the wall. I could almost see the life leaving her body. I looked down at the floor. I did not have much choice - I was clearly in danger. And whatever this rebellion was, if it was against someone who would inject an experimental serum into unwilling people, it sounded like it was on the right side of history.

"I'll do it," I told her, squeezing her hand.

She bobbed her head once in acknowledgment.

"Out the door, up the stairs, and turn right once you reach the deck. This ship has been moored here for years so I'm sure you will find some way to get to shore. It's not more than a hundred yards from the docks. "

"What about you?"

She lifted a blanket at her side, revealing a homemade bomb.

"Someone has to set this off. When the horn blares to signal the shift change, I'll set the one minute countdown. You have until then to get off the ship. It's not much time, but - "

She coughed. Her eyes were growing bloodshot.

"Priya…" "I'm dying anyway, remember?"

We took a shaky breath in unison. I tucked the vial and the papers into a pouch on my cargo pants, and zipped it shut. She took my hand in both of hers and squeezed gently.

"You've been a good friend to me, Raven. Now go. Save us all."

I rose to my feet, taking one last look at my friend, a woman I didn't even remember, and headed for the door. It was unlocked, and it struck me that they had thought us all dead and unable to escape. I crept up to the small window on the door and peered through to check the hallway. Empty. With one last glance at Priya, who waved a silent farewell, I slipped through and closed the door behind me.

The stairs were only a few feet away, clear daylight pouring down from the open exit above. I swiftly reached the top, ducking as I crept up the last few steps, and noticed three uniformed men about twenty feet away - all facing the opposite direction. I dared to poke my head around the right side of the doorway. More men stood there, much closer, but engrossed in conversation. Between us was a series of crates and barrels. Now or never, I told myself, and with a quick glance to be sure none of the other men had turned around, I dropped into  a crouch and sprinted behind a barrel. Safe. My heart was pounding in my chest. As I scanned the deck for my next move, I patted the pocket that apparently held our salvation, reassured by its presence somehow.

I took another look to the prow of the ship, where most of the uniformed people had gathered to hear someone speak; someone with a harsh sneer on his face, someone whose voice drove chills down my spine, though I couldn't draw up any memories of him. I tucked myself behind the barrels again, and considered. I was nearly fifty feet from the edge of the ship, and too far away to determine an escape route. Several crates and tubs of food, kitchen wares, and folded laundry were stacked near a massive wooden pole and a large supply truck – no doubt supplies confiscated from local residents. Before I could think, I found myself sprinting to hide there next, somehow undetected. My adrenaline was running the show now. I crouched beside the truck, taking in my new surroundings. Directly in front of me was the low railing of the ship, and off a steep edge, a five story drop directly into the murky bay. I considered my options. There was a stairwell further down the ship – though far away, it led down to a narrow lower deck. My drop would then be significantly smaller, perhaps only thirty feet, and then I could swim to shore -

A piercing horn blast cut into my thoughts, and I reflexively threw my hands over my ears.

Shit, I realized. I'm out of time.

I would never make it to the stairwell and down to other deck in time, and just throwing myself from so high up would likely kill me. I frantically searched for Plan B.

Priya said this ship had been moored for years, I considered. There has to be something connecting it to shore. I looked across to the docks, and noticed several fat power lines anchored to low buildings near the dock. One of them ran directly up to the pole that I crouched under, with a pile of crates stacked high beside it. As my mind raced, my heart beating to such a rapid cadence that I half expected it to explode, my eye caught on a pile of bedsheets, draping from a box. I snatched one up and scrambled with it to the top of the pile of crates, working it into a long, bulky rope of sorts.

"Hey, you!"

"Shit, shit, shit," I muttered. I'd been spotted. Without casting a glance at the commotion I had raised, I tossed one end of the sheet over the power cable, gripped one end in each hand, and wrapped the ends around each wrist a few times. As the nearest would-be captor reached the bottom of the pile of crates, I leaped from my refuge and threw my entire weight down the power line. Within seconds I was fleeing the ship, zipping rapidly down the gentle slope of the cable. I made the mistake of looking down at the murky water, and my hands instinctively gripped the sheet harder. If the bedsheet didn't hold, it was a long drop. Gasping and yelling erupted from the crowd of civilians gathered at the docks, pointing at me even as I flew over their heads. I had nearly reached the building at the end of my flight when an ear-splitting, thunderous boom filled the air.

Priya, you did it, I thought.

The power line went slack just as I released my hold on the sheets. I aimed for a soft patch of grass in front of the looming building, and shut my eyes for impact. The air was struck from my lungs, and I had the vague sense that I was rolling. When I finally came to a stop on my back, I gasped for air, opening my eyes slowly. Faces swarmed above me, an incoherent buzz of conversation eventually giving way to – applause? The faces were becoming more clear, and all of them wore a smile. Someone – a man – knelt down next to me.

"Anything broken?" he asked, his demeanor calm.

I wiggled my feet, my arms, my head…

"I don't think so," I said, accepting his help to reach a seated position. The crowd began to disperse. As I grabbed his offered hand, I noticed a tattoo on his forearm – a rising sun. I gasped, whipping my head to look at him. Dark hair, a beard -

"Are you Diego?"

He knit his brow together in confusion.

"Have been for the last 32 years, Raven. What's gotten into you?"

I sighed, gesturing to the injury on the back of my head.

"Got hit on the head. I don't remember anything before waking up on the ship."

A shadow crossed his features, but he waited until I was standing steadily on my own two feet before continuing.

"Do you remember anything about the mission?"

I reached into my pocket, pulling out the papers and the vial, and passing them to him. He turned them over in his hands, nodding encouragingly.

"I'm so sorry, but…the others didn’t make it. Priya….Priya was the one who set off the bomb...helped me escape." I shut my eyes and balled my hands up into fists.

A gentle hand on my shoulder.

"We can go over this later," Diego said quietly. "For now, let's get that head wound looked at."

I followed him down the street, feeling as though my ordeal was just getting started.