#this may be one of those posts where I quietly delete it after giving it way too much thought

[voskhozhdeniye]

This is what vote blue no matter who gets you. The Democrats have chained themselves to a sinking ship with no life boats. When your entire platform is, well at least it's not the other guy,........

My tags on the pinned post are from a post I wrote then deleted.

Look at how he frames it. Young voters and their disapproval of a genocide, not the Democrats doubling down and refusing to call for a ceasefire is what is going push America over the cliff.

I guess we have reached the stage of late capitalism where we simply acknowledge that this country's dominance is maintained by being as ultra violent as possible. Get in line and accept it, you're either with us or against us.

So back to the impending election, Biden's entire platform is, I'm a better choice than Trump. This is where the vote blue no matter who really fucks you. Trump is the boundary line. As long as Biden doesn't cross those lines, he can always say he's better than Trump. But as we are witnessing, he and company will get as close as they possibly can with out crossing. That way they'll always be the better choice. Not by much, but enough to say they are.

The further the Republicans go right, the further the Democrats can push right along with them, they just can't overtake them.

And that is the situation we are in. Yelling at voters for the failures of their government. Who are you voting for, Genocide Joe or Trump? Third party? Don't throw your vote away!

I said it in 2020, and I will say it again. The ONLY reason liberal whites flock to Joe Biden as their savior is because Trump made them feel like niggers in America. Four years of Trump gave you a taste of what the rest of us have been dealing with, regardless of which party is in control, and y'all said by whatever means we will get Trump out of here. We will vote blue no matter who.

That 2020 post, I wrote it after someone responded to another post of mine. They said they knew Biden had been racist in the past, but we needed to look past that for the health of the country.

I wrote a long essay like this one in responce, but the only thing I truly wanted to write was "got you bitch!"

You were willing to look past Biden's racism, sexism, Harris' transphobia, and a slew of other troubling things to save your ass from Trump. The things they hated about Trump they just glossed over in Biden and Harris, for the good of the country. In the year 2020, they asked us to ignore the racism of a presidential candidate, for the good of the country. LMFAO

I know who follows this blog, so most of you already know what I'm talking about, but I need everyone to take a step back and look.

The lesser of two evils is giving unlimited funding, ammo and no red lines to a state that is committing genocide.

That's the "safe" option to vote for.

You know in Loony Tunes when someone runs off a cliff and keeps running because they don't realize they aren't on solid ground anymore?

This is already too long, but I've been wanting to talk about this and just haven't. Living in Trump country, means I interact with his fans on a daily basis. A lot of my coworkers are either outwardly or quietly supporters. Every time Trump supporters get mentioned on here it's always to highlight how stupid they are. Yes there are some glaring holes in their logic, but there is a method to the madness. They're also all very nice white people who would never consider themselves racist.

Many of them rightly realize this country's government is working against them. They may not know what the term class conscience means, but they have an understanding through life experience. Many vote for Trump because they see him as a wrench in the system. A revolt against the liberalism of Obama, Pelosi and Clinton, and the system that rewards people like them. It makes sense. The problem is that Trump is a fascist, and sells snake oil to desperate people. That's how fascists market themselves to voters. The person with the plan, and a cure for all their problems.

Voters will vote for anyone in order to have a better life. Even a racist, sexist, genocidal maniac. Wait a minute, are we still talking about conservatives and Trump?

[youreobsessedwithtoomanyfandoms]

Sweet Child O' Mine

Words: 1032

Warnings: angst, death, some small talk about trauma, probably poor writing but whatever

STRANGER THINGS Masterlist Main Masterlist

If any of y'all saw my post about HATING Tumblr and tell them to go fuck themselves, this fic is the reason. I had to re-fucking-write this because they made my entire screen go white and the only way to fix it was to reload the screen. Therefore, effectively deleting everything I wrote

I also wanted to make this fluffy but then decided that nah, just plan angst works fine. So prepare to be saddened

I honestly want to give S1 Jonathan (and this Jonathan) a hug. They deserve it

I also did this fic based off of Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns N' Roses purely because it was stuck in my head. Like that is LITERALLY the only reason I did it

Anywho, enjoy

She's got a smile that it seems to me Reminds me of childhood memories Where everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky (Sky) Now and then when I see her face She takes me away to that special place And if I stared too long, I'd probably break down and cry

Jonathan remembered how Y/N had smiled at him as she drove. He had noticed it from his peripherals while he was adjusting something on his camera and had smiled to himself. God had he loved that smile of hers. It always reminded him of his childhood. The good parts of it, at least. Like when his mom would take him and Will to the park and the sun would be high in the sky. Not a cloud to give any hint of rain. When the sun would be high in the sky and he never felt a single ounce of the pain going on at home. He had lifted the camera to take a photo of her smiling face. He had known she had seen him take it when she started laughing. That of which had him ending up snapping another of her laughing.

He had known that later she would have looked at those photos and groaned. Would have made a comment how bad she looked laughing. He would end up disagreeing and saying how much he loved photos of her laughing. How she always looked the best in them. And she wouldn't believe him. She never did. And he never cared. It may have been a never ending circle, but he didn't care because it would be in it with her

Sometimes when he still looks at the photos of her, he gets taken back to that time. Either with Will and his mom or the moment in the picture with her. But he never was able to stare at the photos for too long. He always would remember what happened and end up breaking down crying.

She's got eyes of the bluest skies As if they thought of rain I hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain Her hair reminds me of a warm, safe place Where as a child I'd hide And pray for the thunder and the rain to quietly pass me by

He remembered how when he looked into her eyes and saw everything in them. It had always pained him to see them when they were full of pain. He remembered when he told her about Will's disappearance and then when his 'body' was found and was declared dead. He remembered how the pain gathered in her eyes like a coming storm. But it never gathered enough for the rain to come. Never did a single tear fall from her eyes.

But he also remembered how she had pulled him in. That he had collapsed onto her. That at some point during his break down, she had walked them into her room. That at some point she laid their foreheads together and made him mimic her breathing. He remembered that one of his hands had fallen to the back of her hair. He remembered how he had done it many times, before and after that, for comfort. He remembered how warm it felt. It didn't matter if they had been outside in the rain or snow. It was always warm.

He remembered that the warmth of it always reminded him of when he and Will were kids and their parents fought. When he would had Will sneak into his room or he would sneak into Will's and they would listen to music. That had always been his comfort during their parents fights. With Will in one of the rooms, listening to music and talking about whatever.

He used to think of it as hiding from thunder. Something he had always been afraid of. But she had always been there to calm him down. All until she wasn't.

Where do we go? Where do we go now? Where do we go? Mm-mm, oh, where do we go? Where do we go now? Oh, where do we go now? (Where do we go?) Where do we go? (Sweet child) Mm-huh, where do we go now? Ah-yah-yah-yah-yah-yah-yah-yah-oh (Where do we go? Where do we go?) Ooh, where do we go now? (Where do we go?) Uh-uh-uh, uh-uh-uh-oh, wow Where do we go? Oh-oh, where do we go now? (Oh) Where do we go, oh-oh-oh-oh? (Oh, wow) Where do we go now? Where do we go? Woah-oh, where do we go now? No, no, no, no, no, no, no Sweet child Sweet child of mine

He remembered when Hopper came to his apartment just as the rain had let up. He remembered how Hopper's hat was off. The somber look on his face. Jonathan's first thoughts were a jumbled mix of worry for his mom, brother, and Y/N. He remembered how Hopper only assured him it wasn't his mom or brother. He remembered how he asked about Y/N. And that Hopper stayed quiet. He remembered how Hopper finally said it. Finally confirmed his worse fears.

They had found her car crashed into a ditch. That she had been in it. That she had probably been driving in the storm, lost control of the car, and it spun out into a ditch. He remembered how he tried so hard not to cry. Not in front of Hopper. But the moment Hopper told him that she had listed him as her first emergency contact, he finally lost it. He finally broke down and cried.

The two of them had made the other their emergency contact years ago as a joke. Never thinking that it would be important. Never thinking that a cop would show up at one of their doors to say they were dead.

And now it was raining and was the day of her funeral. They were maybe halfway through it when he ran out. Unable to sit through it all. He knew that Will and his mom had ran after him. But he ignored him as he sat out on the sidewalk. The rain pouring over his head. Everytime there was a sound of thunder, he jumped.

He knew that his mom and brother were worried about him. He hadn't been this broken over Will's 'death' when it happened. But he thought that was because deep down he knew his mom was right. That he wasn't dead. And look. He wasn't. He was alive and breathing next to him. Unlike her. Unlike Y/N. Y/N who hadn't deserved to die. Especially not during a fucking rain storm.

And maybe because with Will's death he knew what he was going to do next. He knew that he was going to graduate High School and get a better life for him and his mom. But without her, he had no idea. He didn't know what to do or where to go from there.

He just wanted to be with her. Be with the one person who always had his back. No matter how many dumb things he did. No matter how many breakdowns he had. No matter how snappy he could get.

He just wanted his best friend back. That was all. He just wanted her back. And while Will and Joyce knew this. They didn't know everything. Not until the next words came from his sobbing lips.

"I never even got to tell her that I loved her."

[eternallyyoungjustice]

Hey! For the ask thing, could you maybe share some headcanons of the team using the mind link please??

Mind link headcanons? Hell yeah! Thing is, I know I did something like this years ago in my "not so family-friendly headcanons" post...but it looks like Tumblr may have deleted it?! Oh well, time for a redo I suppose!

Nothing but shenanigans

So of course, get the most obvious out of the way

LOTS of swearing

In all various languages

Martain, Atlantean, Vietnamese, all of the langauges

Maybe not so surprisingly, Kaldur is actually the most guilty of this. Only thing is that he does it in Atlantean so the others don't necessarily understand

But they pick up on through context of course

I just imagine something blowing up mid-mission and the link being flooded with "shit shit shit sHIT SHIT SHIT"

In the end, this leads to a bunch of the team picking up on different linguistic swears. So I can just imagine, like, Wally of all people suddenly cursing in fluent Martain at school and everyone around him just being like "???"

Omg ALL OF THE RICK ROLLS

Picture it: it's a long, boring covert ops mission, they're trying so hard to be actually stealthy...and then very quietly, from Dick's brain

"never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down-"

There was almost a murder that night

Similar shit happens all the time, people getting songs stuck in their head and suddenly EVERYONES singing it

Mental choral pieces, everyone chiming in, is a common occurrence nobody likes to talk about

Now... something else that needs to be mentioned...

They're horny teenagers

M'gann has tried so hard to find a way to filter these put but they just DONT WORK

So again, if it's a slow night, especially after certain people have paired up; you'll just get like...people letting the filthiest shit slip out of their brain.

Especially Wally, and Mgann and Conner

That couple fucks like rabbits we all know it

And it's just met with a moment of very uncomfortable silence from the others and then,

Kaldur: uh, Wally

Wally: SHIT SORRY-

One last thing, that isn't exactly hijinks, is how I think the mind link would have an emotional transfer

Like, M'gann is known for being able to sense people's emotions when they "flow off them in waves", and at times we see her seeming to sense when people get hurt when they're mentally linked

And I feel like that would be extended in a mind link, right?

And at first, this is all fun and games

Like, Wally will fall on his face mid-battle and everyone will laugh

But then it starts to have more serious repercussions

Like, okay, picture this. The group tries to link up sometime after the mental training simulation where everyone dies

And they can just...feel everyone's trauma and depression. It echoes off of everyone, filling them with those emotions only for them to send it back out tenfold and over and over and over again.

It sinks into them and eventually they all have to pull away from the link because it just feels like they're drowning.

It takes a while for the mind link to be the same after that

The only time that anything similar to that happened was after Wally's death, where the depression and trauma of all his former teammates was mixed with the strong notion that someone, or something, was missing

What you thought this was only gonna be happy? WRONG

[emotional-synth-music]

Ok. So! You mentioned in a post at one point (i can't find it now but it's there) that you're in the medical field? Something to do with being a nurse? I think? And you were down to give medical information for like. Fics n stuff

If you're still down for that, I've got a question

What's actually done about concussions in a hospital? Every single place i've looked at never actually says how they're treated, just "if you think you're concussed, get to a hospital" and then a lot about sleep and personality disruptions

(if you're not down to answer this u don't have to u can just quietly delete the ask aslsjdhsj I'm just curious)

Hi anon! Yes, I am in the medical field (not a nurse, though I respect nurses immensely) and love to med-pick fics. Great question since concussions as a plot device tend to come up a LOT...

Technically a concussion is the symptoms that happen in the aftermath of a mild brain injury. The most common immediate ones are confusion, loss of memory of the injury +/- the time immediately before and after (less than 30 min), headache, nausea, and dizziness. They may also have trouble walking in a straight line. In the following 24-48 hours people develop more symptoms like trouble sleeping, emotional dysregulation, sensitivity to noise/light, and brain fog.

If the person is taken to the hospital, they'll have a neurological exam (physical exam making sure that sensation, strength, reflexes, and nerve functioning are all okay). If there are red flags (they were unconscious for several minutes or longer, they're still super confused and it's not getting better, they had a seizure or vomited multiple times, there's something abnormal on the neuro exam, they're taking meds that make them bleed easily), they would get a CT scan of the head to make sure there's no bleeding in their brain.

If it's a scenario where the person isn't going to the hospital, the whole thing about keeping someone awake is semi-true. Basically if there are any of those red flags above, they should stay awake for 3-6 hours (sources vary) post-injury to make sure they're not deteriorating, which might signal their brain is bleeding. Otherwise, sleep away.

Either way, people need to rest a lot and pace themselves returning to regular functioning. Symptoms can last a few days up to a month or two. They might have insomnia or they might sleep a lot, and people often have problems with mood and anxiety. A major change to someone's whole personality, or amnesia going back longer than the day of injury, would signal a much more severe brain injury.

Last point: brains are sensitive and fragile and the only thing worse than a concussion is multiple concussions!

Also, Steve should ABSOLUTELY have gone to the hospital, mans was out for a long ass time

[frostedfaves]

Repercussions (1)

Masterlist

Pairing: dark!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha meets you on an outing with Wanda and does a little digging.

Warnings: dark themes, cyber and in-person stalking

A/N: happy (almost) Halloween! I wasn’t planning on posting this so soon (especially when I just started another series yesterday) but I am having sooo much fun writing this that I couldn’t wait any longer to start sharing it! I hope you like it as much as I do, and excited to hear everyone’s thoughts!

**also if your user is bolded in the tags it won’t let me tag you!**

-

Natasha hadn’t expected anything extraordinary to happen today. Then again, one never does.

The day started with Wanda barging into her room that morning, begging Natasha with her best puppy eyes to accompany her on a trip to a local bookstore. It worked, only because she knew the consequences of not going were far worse than the actual trip. She may even find something she likes there.

The aroma of fresh coffee greets them at the door, inviting and just light enough to avoid crowding their senses. Natasha follows quietly behind her excited best friend, carefully looking over every person that crosses her line of sight. The building was smaller and tucked away from the busy parts of the city, so the traffic was lighter than most places.

“Hi! Do you need help finding anything?”

Your voice is light and upbeat as most customer service voices are, with a bit of genuine kindness blended in. When Natasha turns to meet your eyes, your beautiful and expressive eyes, she finds that your gaze and smile reflect your tone. A rare sight for someone in her line of work, and she welcomed it eagerly.

“I’m good, thank you!” came Wanda’s voice as she hurried off to grab the next books in the series she was reading, and you turned your attention to the red haired woman whose eyes raked slowly over your frame.

“I wasn’t looking for anything, but I do like what I see.” Her words washed over you in a chilling way, somehow warming you in the same moment. “Have you worked here for long?”

“A couple months. I haven’t been in New York very long.” You began to fiddle with your fingers, feeling a bit nervous with the unrelenting attention she gave.

“The position suits you.” She smiled as she picked up on your nerves, relaxing her rigid stance a bit. “You’re very beautiful, by the way.”

“Oh! Thank you!” If you weren’t nervous before, you definitely were now, and you were sure it showed in the way your voice squeaked. “Um, you’re beautiful too. Really beautiful.”

She let out a lighthearted chuckle, and the pools of green seemed to brighten as they continued to hold your gaze.

“Thank you. Those words don’t usually stick unless they’re offered from someone who means them.” She stepped closer, close enough for you to catch all the tiny details of those eyes that never seemed to blink. “I’m Natasha.”

You took her waiting hand as you introduced yourself, silently gasping when her grip tightened a bit, her thumb caressing the back of your hand. The room seemed to quiet around you, and you felt almost like a fly caught in a web without the dire consequences. In fact, you wouldn’t mind staying there.

“Excuse me.”

You ripped your hand away, breaking the heavy moment between you as you turned to the elderly woman with your brightest smile.

“What can I help you with?”

Natasha’s eyes followed you as the customer was led to a different corner of the store, turning when she heard Wanda’s footsteps approaching but never looking away from you.

“Okay, I got what I needed.” She held up her bag of books with a grin, frowning as she heard a few of her best friend’s thoughts and sighing when she followed her line of vision. “No.”

“What?” She finally averted her gaze for the first time since she spotted you. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

“You forget I can hear your thoughts--”

“You said you’d stop doing that--”

“--so I know what you’re up to, and I really don’t think you should do that!”

“Wanda…” She stepped toward her with a smile much too sweet for someone like her, placing her hands on Wanda’s shoulders. “You must be mistaken. I’m not up to anything.”

-

Natasha wasn’t even home five minutes before she was tucked away in her room again, working quickly to hack into the bookstore’s database. You were easy to find, given that there were only a few workers and you were the only one with your name. Your address and phone number was scribbled on paper, as well as your work schedule. She then moved onto social media with your full name.

You weren’t on Facebook or Twitter but she found you on Instagram, grinning at your public page giving her easy access. She scrolled through pictures with friends from your hometown, going to their pages and writing their names down too, and then she spotted a picture of you holding hands with another woman.

It was from a while ago and the only time the woman’s face appeared on your account, so you must have forgotten to delete this one with the others, she assumed with the time gap in the dates between the post before and the post after. The picture was captioned “my love”, and it made Natasha’s blood boil, leading her to go to the page of your past love. As much she despised Brittani Gray for having you in the first place, she was grateful for the loose hold that allowed you to slip away, bringing you to New York to be with someone else. 

To be with her.

-

Natasha ate dinner with the other Avengers while sharing her usual laughs and snarky comments, even helping clean up before retreating once more to her room. She exchanged her t-shirt and jeans for an all black pants and hoodie ensemble, throwing a few things in a small bag that she strapped to her back and quietly leaving the room. She sighed when she opened the door to the stairwell and Wanda stood there, body covered in all black clothing and arms crossed over her chest.

“I know where you’re going.”

“Please stop reading my mind,” Natasha sighed heavily.

“I will, if you let me come with you.” She smiled when Natasha raised a brow curiously. “As your best friend, I deserve to know what’s so special about this girl that has you stalking her after a five minute conversation.”

“Fine, but you need to be quiet and stay out of my way.” She stepped toward Wanda, quickly pulling up her hood and tucking her long hair inside of it. “Come on.”

-

Within minutes, Natasha and Wanda were hidden in the shadows of the fire escape outside your bedroom window, watching as you went about settling in for the night. Wanda had enough decency and fear of Natasha’s wrath to look away when you began to undress, but Natasha only stared more. The bra and underwear revealed as your outfit was stripped away were simple enough, yet they stirred something inside of her core as if it was expensive lingerie.

“Look at you,” Natasha found herself muttering as she took a picture, smiling at the screen. “You’re perfect.”

She took a few more as you walked around the room, letting out a frustrated huff when you took off your bra underneath your sleep shirt and pulled your arms through the sleeves. Natasha finally prepared herself to leave when your light turned off, and you couldn’t be seen any longer through the sheer curtains. The two Avengers walked back home in a silence that Wanda eventually broke.

“So Joe Goldberg, what’s your plan from here?”

Natasha thought for a moment. In the beginning her mind was so focused on having you all to herself from the moment you spoke, but now the wheels were turning and her lifelong training was kicking in. And a plan was forming.

“Step one is to take her on a date. Step two is to make sure she knows she’s mine.”

-

Tags: @littlegasps @imnotasuperhero @nat-km-mh @witchxaf @sxphiaswitch @sakurat123 @muted-stoneheart @fayhar 

[snarkwrites]

so, i have come with an idea that came from watching the deleted scenes from dazed and confused. slater has stated that “it’s about quality, not quantity”. and when i tell you my mind had a field day with that🥵🥵whew! the man totally fucks and knows how to make it amazing, i just know it! - ❤️

AHHH OMFG THAT LINE. It invokes so many thots within me. So many, holy shit. And here you are, blessing me with a chance to play out these thots of mine. I love you so so so so so so much, angel.

Let's take this a step further shall we? How about Slater... deflowering a virgin... Mhm. I'm going there. Same reader/you from the last Ron Slater ask, btw. This should be fun af.

LIFE EDIT: This is kind of an alternate take. Kind of a what if Ron x you blew off the party at the moon tower and went back to have a little fun at his place all fucking night instead... So. yeahhh.

Warnings:

Sexual content ; oral sex, male giving... If you're not 18+ this post ain't for you, keep it moving, kiddos. If you choose to stay after this warning, that's your choice.

TAGGING:

@chasingeverybreakingwave - bc Ron fucking Slater, bb. And I love you and I wanted you to see this, lmaooo. I may be one step closer to caving in and doing 'the thing'.

@twistnet - Bc I love you and our talks ahh.. inspired this.

OTHER STUFF:

[ FAQ - MULTIFANDOM TAG LIST ]

Ron Slater & first time;

Things were getting a little heated. The tension between you two couldn't get any thicker if you tried to make it so. His hands were literally all over you. You had two hickies already and there was absolutely no way you were hiding either of them later and you fucking loved it...

The discussion in Pickford's car turned to sex for whatever reason and Dawson, as per usual, was being a dick. When Ron popped off at Dawson about preferring quality over quantity, it had you conflicted because see... You were still a virgin. So you figured that given you knew for a fact that Ron wasn't, this alone would rule you out.

And the way it kind of invaded your brain and got to you, that had you a little nervous. Had you bitten off more than you could chew? What if things went further and you were really bad in bed? And then, another thought... a bigger one, might I add, that hit you with the force of a speeding car at a brick wall...

,, Wait a minute... I'm actually thinking about sex with him. No, I've made up my mind. I want him. If I'm gonna do this, it's gonna be with him. Nobody else." the thought took over. You were so caught up in the realization that yes, you absolutely wanted to give up your virginity to Ron Slater that you failed to miss when he nudged you and asked you if you agreed. But as soon as you realized, you decided you better just get the truth out there and do it now.

"I wouldn't know actually, kind of still a virgin." you answered, shrugging it off because in the grand scheme of things, it really didn't matter at all.

When Dawson nearly choked on his beer and Ron swallowed hard, fixing his eyes on you as he bit his lip and seemed to get lost in his own thoughts for a few seconds, you cleared your throat, speaking up to provide your own input, "But if I were picking a side here, yeah. I'd have to say I'd want quality over quantity. Nobody wants it to last all night when the guy doesn't know what the fuck he's doing, right?" you gave Dawson a pointed smirk as you said it, almost mocking him for his earlier statement about Ron and not being past the sniffing butts stage when it came to the ladies.

Dawson mimicked you before turning to face the front of the car again and once he had turned his back, you flipped him off.

Beside you, Ron was staring. You could feel his eyes as they fixed on you. Looking you up and down. Almost as if he were puzzled by what you'd admitted.

"A virgin, sweetheart?" Ron's breath was warm against your ear. A shiver passed through your body and you bit down on your lip as his hand settled on your bare thigh. Squeezing. Moving slowly up the insides and making you barely able to stop a whimper. You locked eyes with him and nodded, swallowing hard as you did so. Leaning in to whisper quietly, "It's not like it's a bad thing."

"Oh, it definitely ain't." Ron answered. His hand crept just a little higher. His breath caught in his throat and under the glow of a passing streetlamp shining through the back glass as the car passed beneath it, you could see the way his pupils were darkened. The way he licked his lips as he continued to fuck you with his eyes.

,, okay, since he's not weirded out..." your brain chimed in. And before you could stop yourself, you were whispering against the shell of his ear again, "But.. I'm looking to change that." as your hand drifted down, settling over the way he strained at his jeans already. He shifted around as covertly as possible, bucking himself against your hand. He panted against your ear in response, "You are, huh? Thinkin about anybody in particular, sweetheart? Because I know a guy..." he pulled away, tongue dragging slowly over his lips. Your breath caught in your throat because as he did this, his hand crept up the insides of your thighs even higher and settled palm down against soaked fabric. Squeezing your throbbing sex and almost making you moan as you rocked against his hand clumsily.

"You do, hm? What if I said you were the one I had in mind?" you ghosted your palm over the way his cock twitched, straining even tighter against his jeans.

He bit back a moan, just barely. Bucked himself upward against your moving hand. Managing to pant against the shell of your ear a frenzied warning. "When I get you alone, sweetheart... Fuck." as the movement of your palm over the bulge sped up clumsily.

"Stop the car, man!" Ron practically yelled it out at Pickford and Pickford slammed on the brakes next to a little yellow house. Very cookie cutter. Once the car was stopped, Ron was punching the back of Dawson's seat. "Lemme out, man. I, uh.. I forgot somethin in my room earlier. You wanna come in with me, princess?" he gazed back at you and you nodded. Your panties flooding all over again as the slick pooled and coated the insides of your thighs. Dawson got out to let Ron out and Ron leaned back into the car, scooping you out. Taking off at a laughing run towards the side of the house.

Putting your back against the side of the house as he stopped next to a window. His hands all over you and your legs circling his waist as his mouth dove against yours. Slowly. Deliberately. Kisses so deep that you almost forgot where you ended and he began, let alone remembering to breathe properly. Just when you were starting to get lightheaded, he broke the kiss, pulling away to stare at you.

The hunger in his eyes was something you'd never seen before. Ever. He bit his lip and nodded to the window. "I'm gonna have t' put you through my window, darlin. Don't wanna hear my ma bitchin..."

You nodded. Taking a shaky and deep breath. Your heart was racing. Your stomach was flipping and flopping lazily. You laughed softly, grabbing him by the chin and pulling his mouth back against yours. "Don't you want me, baby?"

"Fuck yeah." he chuckled into the kiss. After a few seconds, the two of you managed to tumble through his open bedroom window and the second you had, all bets were off. His hands were tugging your shirt up over your head and then they were all over you and you were trying to pull off his shirt as your back hit the mattress and he followed your body down. Propping on an elbow as he settled on his side beside you in the bed, staring down at you. In awe. Open adoration and desire.

"We're not makin it to the party tonight, darlin." and you whimpered at his words, taking a few deep breaths. "That's fine with me."

"I just really wanna take my time with you." he mumbled as he positioned himself between your legs, capturing both of your hands above your head in one of his own, his mouth crashing against yours, straying from it to ghost down your neck. Teeth scraping against skin. Tugging. Leaving little bites behind as he muttered huskily against it, "Fuck." and rocked himself right into you.

You raised one of your hands, shakily going for the button on his jeans and he rose up, slipping off the bed. Letting his jeans pool at his ankles. Giving his thick cock a pump or two as he stared down at you hungrily. Licking his lips real slow as he sank down. Working his way up your body, his hand disappearing between the two of you so he could work the buttons on your cut offs free. Tugging them down slowly, a smile playing at his lips when you came alive beneath him because the way he was touching you was all new and completely overwhelming to you. And he absolutely loved that thought.

He went for your bra next and by instinct, you threw your arms up. An attempt to cover yourself. He shook his head, reaching up to lower your arms. A throaty growl escaping his mouth as it dove against yours and his hands moved down to your hips. Hooking in the thin bands of your underwear. Working those down your lower body and marveling at how wet you were for him already. He raised your legs up to his shoulder and locked eyes with you.

"You're so fuckin pretty, angel. So fuckin pretty." his breath tickled your skin as his mouth worked up your leg. That thick tongue making you grip the blanket on his bed before he was even anywhere close to where you wanted him most. As soon as his eyes settled on your slickened thighs, he gazed up at you. Eyes filled with lust. When his tongue dragged over the inside of your thigh and you felt him stop.. sink his teeth into your skin to leave another mark behind, you reached down, fingers tangling in long dark hair. Trying to guide his mouth.

One of his hands settled on your hip and he rolled his tongue over your dripping center. Sucking in a breath and then exhaling. The way it felt cool against your skin had goosebumps forming over your body and he muttered lazily against your sex, "Fuck you're so wet. So fuckin wet. Kinda makes me wanna stay buried down here all night."

"Fuck." you moaned out, back arching away from the mattress as his tongue and fingers slipped into your tight hole, stretching you out. Getting you ready for everything he planned to do to you tonight.

As his tongue twisted and curled and kept the same pace as his fingers, you moaned. Struggled to breath on more than one occasion. Tried to remember that his mother was in the house and you had to at least try to be quiet.

But something told you that Ron Slater was about to make you staying quiet harder than you'd ever imagine...That tonight was going to be a very long and very fun night.

[setterspirit]

long time no talk, huh?

❥ ‑‑‑‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑

the game had gone by agonizingly slow for suna, because now that he knew your name, he wanted to know if you were her, his best friend from childhood. he cheered when it called for it, stayed silent when atsumu would serve (really nothing had changed from high school), and searching for you between breaks, hoping to catch sight of you and maybe, depending on how perceptive you were, possibly ask you with his eyes if he could talk to you. eventually he found you, across the stadium, sitting with tsukishima and mai, cheering for both kageyama and hinata.

komori noticed suna’s actions, raising an eyebrow curiously at the fox eyed middle blocker. osamu caught on and mouthed “i’ll explain later” to komori who simply nodded skeptically and let suna continue to stare at you across the way.

between your excited cheering for two fo your favorite people in the whole world, to tsukishima’s annoyed comments about how loud you were cheering, to mai’s laughs as you continued to cheer, you didn’t notice the eyes on you, though in the back of your mind you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching you. you were just being paranoid though, right? who would be staring at you? and if they were, then why would they be staring at you? it wasn’t something you could explain, so you just shook the feeling off and continued to cheer.

at the end of the game, tsukishima meets up with the rest of his first year volleyball team, you and mai following behind because he’s your ride. you excitedly greeted kageyama and hinata, giving both high fives rather than hugs seeing as they were still sweaty. then tsukishima claims he’s had enough of socializing with his old teammates, waving goodbye to them and gesturing for you and mai to follow. you and mai quickly caught up with the middle blocker, still speaking quietly amongst yourselves as tsukishima led the way to the car, driving you both home before he too, headed for his own home.

suna had seen you leave, following quickly behind the middle blocker and whispering quietly with mai, but he chose not to follow, rather, he stayed with osamu, komori, and washio, greeting atsumu as he came out of the locker rooms followed by sakusa and bokuto. suna smiled and congratulated atsumu on the good game, rolling his eyes when osamu and atsumu started to bicker, just like the old days. sakusa and komori were quietly discussing who knew what, and washio was simply off to the side, having congratulated bokuto already. suna went to stand next to the other middle blocker quietly, waiting for komori to finish up what he needed to so they could go back to the teams home.

komori had finished soon enough, heading over to the pair of middle blockers, waving to osamu as the trio left, getting into komori’s car to head out. suna got into the passenger seat, having beat washio to the door, the latter cursing at suna for stealing that spot.

as soon as they were safely buckled up and on the road, komori couldn’t hold it in anymore, so he finally asked the question that had been burning his mind since he noticed suna’s actions. “suna, what, or who, were you staring at during the breaks?”

“oh-” suna muttered, clearing his throat in shock, surprise etched onto his features because he didn’t know komori had caught him. “um- well, when ‘samu and i went out to get dinner, we went to this soba shop that this group went to as well, and there was a girl there that looked so familiar... then ‘samu said she was at the game and that he got her name and- well, let’s just say...i may or may not know who she is.”

“what do you mean ‘may or may not?’” washio questioned from the backseat, eyebrow raised questioning despite the fact that suna couldn’t see it.

“well, it’s been- over ten years since i last saw her, i mean she has the same name, and there are some small signs like the way she smiles or the way her eyes twinkle that give off the vibe that it’s her, but...” suna replied, glancing out the window, missing the look komori and washio exchanged from the mirror.

“well, since you know the name, try finding her twitter, she might be on twitter,” washio suggested, suna nodding slowly in agreement.

first, he typed in ‘l/n’ to no avail, then ‘l/n y/n’ again to no avail. his last hope, which was a huge stretch considering a lot of people could have your name in their users, was to try ‘y/n.’ just as he was about to give up on his search, he came across your profile, the handle making his eyebrows crease in confusion. clicking on your profile, most of your tweets were about someone named eito, the same eito mentioned in your bio, at least from what suna could guess. from reading your posts, he found that eito was your child, and that you seemed to treasure him more than life itself, not that he could blame you when he came across some photos of you and the little boy.

continuing to scroll through your tweets, he was about to give up all hope when he came across an interesting tweet...

his heart jumped to his throat as he stared at the tweet. hyōgō, where she used to live before she moved. no, it couldn’t be her, could it? he knew they hadn’t talked for more than ten years, but just how much had you changed since he’d last seen you?

fingers shaking as he pressed the follow button, didn’t catch the quiet question from komori, worry etched into the liberos features when he glanced over to the seemingly nervous suna. rarely had the libero ever seen the middle blockers usually disinterested or lazy facade fall, but whenever it did, it never failed to throw komori for a loop.

suna quickly typed out a message to you, quickly pressing send before he could chicken out and take back his messages. he was terrified for your response, but if you remembered him, if you could somehow reconnect with him, it would all be worth it, nerves and all.

then he clicked his phone off, though his nerves never eased as he waited for your reply. he was so tempted a few times to go back and delete those messages, but he decided against it, wanting to see for himself if you remembered him or not. little did he know you were already at home, curled up and asleep, aiko having put eito to bed.

when you had arrived home, you profusely thanked the teen for watching over eito on such short notice. she reassured you that it was fine and that she loved coming over to hang out with eito. smiling thankfully, you paid aiko for her services, tipping her a bit extra for the fact she was able to come and babysit on such short notice, before she got a text from her parents to say they were waiting for her to drive her home.

then you started to get ready for bed, going about your nightly routine before you got into bed. no later had your head hit the pillow were you out, quietly snoring peacefully. not too long after you had fallen asleep did your phone ding quietly from it’s place on your nightstand, lighting up the dark room with the light from the small screen.

boy, would you wake up to a surprise tomorrow morning.

TALK ABOUT SURPRISES

[ masterlist | three | four | five ]

word count; 1.2k+

fast facts;

fact #1; suna is nervous because it’s been so long since he last saw y/n that he’s not sure if she remembers him or not. not that y/n would be any different. she would be just as nervous if she were in suna’s shoes, if not more nervous.

fact #2; aiko has been babysitting for y/n since eito was a year old. she absolutely adores the child, happy that she’s been able to see the little kid grow up. she was actually the one that found eito when futakuchi had left him at the amusement park. at first she had shaken off the feeling she knew the kid, but upon closer inspection, she found that it was, in fact, eito. she questioned what sort of idiot would leave eito alone at an amusement park until futakuchi had come to get eito. then it all clicked for her. she knew of everyone in y/n’s group, knew how they all were when it came to the little kid.

fact #3; komori has only ever seen suna break down two times, either time not knowing what to do. he usually ends up calling osamu to see what suna needs, as the ex-wing spiker probably knows better what suna needs than he does.

fact #4; y/n has wanted to go back and visit hyōgō a few times since coming back to japan, though she usually gets busy whenever she is able to even think about that, hence the (at first joking) tweet.

✨) summary; l/n y/n is a single mother living with her 5 year old son in sendai. suna rintarō is a professional volleyball player, the middle blocker for the ejp raijin. the msby black jackals vs the schweiden adlers is a game between two of japan’s v league division 1 teams that bring together many old rivals. y/n is dragged to the game by her cousin, tsukishima kei, claiming she needed to get out and do more than just work and take care of her child. reluctantly, she goes along with the usually salty blond — leaving her 5 year old with a babysitter — to watch the game between two of tsukishima’s ex-teammates. suna makes the executive decision that he will be going to the game to support his former teammate and setter, miya atsumu, with komori asking if he could accompany the middle blocker so he could support his cousin, suna readily agrees and they also invite washio to go with them, knowing he’d want to see bokuto as well. a chance encounter at the game of old reunions brings together two old friends and feelings start to re-emerge. follow y/n and suna as they get to know each other again, fend off any unwanted attention, and work through parenthood in “talk about surprises!”

updates every monday!

taglist; @pieckiya @its-the-aerieljeane @amatee @crayonwriting @reblogthatgoodfanfiction @mint-mai @akaashiwife @kac-chowsballs @sugarb0 @bdanie @the-golden-jhope @goodpop9 @navymacaroons @tendo-sxtori @sirachano0dles @seijqhigh @hannahlxu @mattsunsupremacy @winunk @briidge @kageyamasgirl @yongboxerrr @kiyoovmie @elianetsantana @ofmiceandsharks @bokutokita @honeydrip @tycrackculture @madmelle @kitkozume @gushinim @luckypartyranchmug @kenssister

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check out the masterlist to see how you can be added to the taglist! <3

[bookstantrash]

A/N: This is an idea that has been living inside my mind for a really long time and I finally gathered courage to write it. But I’m a bit of a perfectionist, so every time I read and edited it I always found more and more faults in what I had written, so I said “To hell with this, I’m gonna post it before I delete the whole thing”

This ended up being way longer than what I had imagined and I have no idea how I feel about it. So buckle up folks, because this is going to be a ride.

In which she makes a friend

After almost three months living in Illyria, Nesta could not recall a single conversation that had lasted for more than three minutes or that had been longer than two sentences. Not that she cared much in holding meaningless conversations about the weather and whatnot with the few Illyrians bold enough to talk to her. Because few were those that tried to talk to her, those that were not scared of her, whose voices did not whisper Other or Witch whenever she bothered to leave the house she now lived in.

So when Nesta sat on the lonely stone bench in front the house – the weather had given a break and gone from “insufferable bone cold” to “tolerable chilly” – to try and calm the raging fire in her veins, a sign that her power was trying to break free, a sign that she was close to breaking and destroying everything around her, she was very much surprised to find an Illyrian child walking towards her.

It was not unusual to have a few Illyrians knocking on the door sometimes, given that she now lived with him due to her sister’s order long ago in Velaris. But since her babysitter had gone to Cauldron knows where, to do Cauldron knows what a week ago, no one had come knocking on the door asking for that overgrown bat. Adding the fact that his house was a little secluded from the rest, Nesta could not imagine why that child was coming over.

“Good...good evening” the Illyrian greeted, stopping in front of her.

“He’s not here” Nesta said, eyeing the child in front of her. The boy – Nesta supposed it was a boy, not older than thirteen, with its short cut curly brown hair, bandaged hands, muddied clothes and scar free wings being the only clue she had – shifted nervously on his feet.

“I...I’m not looking for the General” the boy said “I heard there was a Witch living here. I take you are her”

For the second time of that day Nesta found herself surprised. The boy in front of her had called her a Witch in her face, something most did not.

“I wanted to ask for a spell” the boy’s voice had lost a bit of it’s previous nervousness, and he had squared his shoulders, wings slightly flaring “I don’t have much, but I’m ready to give anything in return”

‘You can’t possible have anything to give me’ Nesta thought, glancing at his ripped and dirty clothes.

“I’m no Witch” Nesta said, getting up and turning her back at the kid, making for the house’s door “Go back to your parents”

~•~

The next day, when Nesta was coming back from a walk in the woods – there was something about the ancient trees and the wilderness that helped her control her inner turmoil — she was baffled to see yesterday’s boy waiting for her.

“I’m sorry for yesterday” the boy blurted out before she could send him away “I didn’t want to offend you. I’m Kaelin”

Nesta’s only answer was a blink.

“I...I only said you were a Witch because that’s what the others said you were” Kaelin’s ears turned pink, no doubt embarrassed to admit listening to gossip.

“I don’t blame you” she said, and Kaelin’s eyes lit in surprise.

No. Nesta did not blame the boy for thinking her a Witch. Because long ago, before the war, before the empt void inside her was as big as the ocean, before she heard her father’s neck crack, she had declared to that annoying camp lord Devlon that she indeed was a Witch. But now, even though her powers were as loud as a beast’s roar in her ears, she did not want to touch them. Could not touch them.

And nothing, not even the hopeful look in Kaelin’s light brown eyes, would make her touch the wild beast that lived within her. She would not give the boy false hope. She would not fail another child. Not again. Not ever.

“If you have problems maybe you’d better tell your parents about it, instead of reaching for witchcraft”

After all, even thirteen year old Illyrians must have foolish mistakes that they would rather not tell their parents about.

“I don’t have parents. At least not anymore” Kaelin’s hard and sorrowful voice was enough to make Nesta resist prying further into his problem.

“I see” was the only thing she said, and she once again turned her back at him, entering that lonely and sad cabin, even though she was feeling rather inclined to talk, a feeling she had not felt for the longest time.

~•~

Kaelin appeared on Nesta’s door three days later, with a black eye, bruised cheek and a split lip that didn’t stop him from smiling and giving her something wrapped in brown paper.

“I thought about it and I realised that my apology was lacking” he started talking non stop, not giving Nesta a chance to say anything except gape at him and the gift on her hands “Father always said to treat everyone nicely, unless they were rude to you. He said it was what mother believed in”

Nesta could only nod and unwrap the paper to discover a pair of gloves.

“Did you steal them?” She asked, connecting the dots between the gloves she held — surely way out of the kid’s status of affordable — and his beaten face.

“No!” Kaelin replied, a bitterness in his voice “I know I’m just a lowly orphan but I’d never take something from another one in such an unhonoured way”

Nesta just grossed her arms, waiting for his explanation.

“One of the boys from the high families arrived at training with new boots” he gave a sly smile “I fought him for them”

“You did what?” Nesta’s voice rose and she was holding herself back from shaking the boy until he was back into his right mind.

“Fighting between Illyrians is not prohibited. But it’s best if you don’t get caught” Kaelin replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Nesta felt her temper rising.

“You. Come with me” she grabbed Kaelin’s arm and took him inside before he could protest.

She made him sit on sofa in the living room while she went searching for the medic supplies she was sure Cassian had. Once she found it, she went back to Kaelin and started treating his cuts, mumbling the entire time about how stupid and reckless boys were.

“This is nice” he said, wincing slight when Nesta touched his bruised cheek.

“What is nice?”

“Having someone take care of you” he answered “I... I didn’t know my mom. She died shortly after I was born. Father said she was quite fragile”

Nesta trying to not let show how his words affected her. She remembered another woman, dying in a lonely bed just a few years after her youngest child had been born.

“He died in the last war. Against Hybern” he practically spat the late king’s name, hate filling every syllable.

Nesta finished treating him and started organising the materials, to keep herself busy and have an excuse to buy time to know what to answer him. She had never been good at consoling others. And she didn’t know why, but she was afraid her bluntness would end up hurting Kaelin.

“He was a hero” he said firmly, his eyes shining with defiance “He may have been just a mere foot soldier but he was at the front line, keeping Hybern’s forces back”

“I’m sure he was” Nesta replied, trying not to think about who may have said otherwise to him, hurting a child who had nothing “But would he like to see his son picking meaningless fights?”

“It was to get you a gift” Kaelin looked down and poked at the sofa “I’m sure he’d have understood. Besides, I have to fight and stand out if I want to have a shot at the Rite”

“You mean the Blood Rite? I thought everyone participated” Nesta had gathered little information about the Illyrians for the time she had been living in Illyria. There were no libraries, no bookstores, and the books Cassian had about the Illyrian culture and history were scarce and outdated.

“The very one. You are not obligated to become a warrior, but that’s the path most of male Illyrians take. Not that we have many options to begin with” Kaelin’s voice had became serious “Most of the males from the richer families are bound to participate, but the rest.... we end up being mere foot soldiers. Expendable. So no point in making us take part in it.”

At his words, Nesta could not help but think about Cassian. He too was an orphan but had risen to be Rhysand’s Commander and had seven siphons. From what she had heard and seen at the war, that was rather unusual.

“It’s worse for females” Kaelin added quietly.

She knew that. Saw how females were treated on the rare times she got out of the cabin. A scarce number trained. And she did not know a lot about training, but was sure it was not near enough to make them part of the Illyrian army. Or even defend themselves were the worst to happen.

Nesta opened her mouth to say Cauldron knows what — she had to say something, she could not let the boy leave with such dark thoughts — when a loud noise interrupted her.

It was a sound Nesta knew quite well from her time as a human living in a shabby cottage.

A sound she had become reacquainted with after being Made. After that day at the battle field.

The sound of hungriness. The sound of someone who was starving, and had been so for quite a while.

And it was coming from Kaelin.

The Illyrian boy beside her blushed a deep scarlet, trying — and failing — to come up with an excuse. But Nesta knew better. She knew the signs of starvation. Saw them in herself. Had seen it in her younger sisters, when they were not older than Kaelin.

Thin wrists. Sunken eyes. Cheekbones way too sharp. Up close Nesta could properly examine Kaelin and notice that the boy was all bones and little muscle, his skinny built not a consequence of slow metabolism to gain weight, but rather the fact that he did not have enough sustenance to make it possible.

“I have way too much food stocked here. I was supposed to be living with an adult warrior that can eat for five people “ Nesta began, cutting Kaelin’s blabbering “It would be a crime to let it all get wasted”

Leaving him no window to reply, she took hold of his arm, hauling him towards the kitchen and making him to sit down while she gathered whatever food she came across. And she had enough fire in her eyes — she may or may not have lost a little bit of control of her powers due to her racing emotions — that Kaelin did not dare say a word, but just sit quietly and eat what was put in front of him.

~•~

Nesta’s routine had suffered a slight change after that evening. For the past month and a half, Kaelin had been having a meal with her after his training. Every day.

She had made sure to make it clear that she was expecting a visit from him after his activities were over.

He did not dare argue with her.

Today, however, was an unusual day.

Kaelin was late.

Almost two hours late.

Nesta had come to know Illyrian boy better, and one thing she learned about him was that he detested to be late. For him, his promises and commitment were everything, reminding her of another Illyrian she knew – which had not come back in two months. Not that she missed or was worried about him.

She tried and failed to convince herself that Kaelin may have been held back by training. But she did not know why she felt a strange feeling. Her powers were restless, more so than usual.

The air and the trees around her seemed different.

She felt it deeply in her bones.

As if the Cauldron itself — hidden far far away in a island that did not exist in any map ever written — dreaded whatever future thread the Mother was knitting.

As if something had been woken.

As if the winds of change had gone from a light breeze to a tornado, ready to wreak havoc in Illyria.

Nesta could not hold herself back any longer. She needed to know what was happening. To know if that strange song that spoke of a power strong and ancient was connected to Kaelin tardiness.

So into the woods she went.

She walked and walked, until the song in her ears got louder and a new sound appeared, a sound she would not be able to hear were it not for her fae ears.

The sound of someone whimpering.

Quickening her steps, Nesta followed the cries of pain until the wall of trees around her gave way to a small clearing.

And there, lying curled up in a ball, was Kaelin.

“KAELIN!”

Nesta ran towards him, falling on her knees beside his body.

“What happened? Did somebody hurt you?” she smelled blood, and feared the Illyrian whose boots he had “won” had gone after him for payback.

Her mind was racing, her thoughts overlapping themselves. She recalled another winged body, laying on the ground. She recalled another child, crying in pain due to its empty stomach, who had not seen food for weeks.

She would not fail anyone ever again. That had been her promise to herself.

“Kaelin...” Nesta slowly touched his arm, trying to soothe him “Talk to me. Tell me where it hurts”

Kaelin whimpered, slowly uncurling his body and tucking his wings. He clutched his abdomen, and Nesta dared to try and touch her power.

She would touch that dangerous beast if that meant she could help the young boy in front of her.

And so she tentatively reached inside herself for that source, trying to recall if any training she’d had with Amren may assist her in the current situation.

She scanned Kaelin’s body, and that’s when she noticed the small drops of blood beneath him. But her powers had not detected any wounds. No, he was not hurt.

However, she finally found the origin of the bleeding. And Nesta momentarily lost her breath.

Because she knew the reason why Kaelin was in pain.

“You are not a boy” she breathed.

Kaelin was a girl.

A girl who had had her first period.

A girl who was passing as a boy. Training like one.

And when Kaelin finally meet Nesta’s eyes, brown eyes shining with tears, she cursed the Mother for whatever future thread she had knitted.

•

Tags: @sayosdreams @thewayshedreamed @sjm-things @perseusannabeth

[luckyharbinger]

(REPOST) Winter’s Role in Volume 8

...and as it relates to Staff Theory, because...well, look who posted this.

So it’s not really a secret that Winter has always had a sort of passive role throughout the series. She’s a supporting character in every sense, not just a non-main character but a character who’s never the center of her own story. Everything she is as a person is tightly bound to someone else, as opposed to the kids of Team RWBY, JNOR, and co. who could all easily be the main characters of their own mini-series. Everything Winter does or “desires” is in the interest of someone else.

So what I’m going to discuss below is how that narrative rut affects her, how it relates to a few other characters, and what it might mean for the finale of Volume 8.

Alas, the original of this post got deleted, so if you liked the analysis, please give this one a reblog instead, since the other read-more directs to nothing.

Let’s start with V8Ch1.

This seems like a pretty normal thing to say to someone in the wake of terrible loss, doesn’t it?

Well...yes, on the surface. But from a narrative standpoint, there’s a little more going on here. This is one of many instances in which Winter is expected to take the place of someone else.

In Volume 7, it’s established that Winter was selected to be the next Winter Maiden, something she claims that she’d taken as her own destiny, but obviously not something she herself had ever planned for. At that time, it was unclear if taking the Maiden ability would change her as a person. But with that mantle taken by Penny (haha), Winter has a new void to fill: the one Clover left behind.

Let’s take a look at V7Ch3.

Sounds familiar, no?

The way the narrative compares Winter and Clover is more subtle than the comparison between Clover and Qrow, but there all the same. It’s a more situational difference and something that doesn’t have as much to do with who they are as people. In a narrative sense, Clover’s death quite literally marks a pivot in the plot where things go from pretty bad to absolutely fucked. Clover, you see, is Atlas’s good luck charm. When he’s around, things go well. He’s playful with his team. He likes Qrow. He says “James.”

Winter, on the other hand, isn’t lucky at all. After Clover dies (and with Winter attempting and failing to replace him), things are a little less than ideal. Everything’s going to hell. Winter is frigid and professional with his team, such as when she pulls rank. She’s always disliked Qrow. She says “sir.”

Anyways, back to V8.

It's pretty obvious in this scene that James could use a bit of comfort. He's only human. He's afraid. But James and Winter don't have that kind of relationship. She calls him sir. The person who would've called him "James" is on the table in the other room, and in fact, James had just been looking there before turning to thank her.

Winter almost forgets herself here. The pause between the question and "sir" implies that for a moment, Winter saw a terrified man instead of her usually fearless General. But James and Winter are colleagues, not friends, so Winter adds the formality back in, despite James quietly admitting to a moment of weakness.

Let's be clear: James is not consciously expecting Winter to replace Clover emotionally. No one is. James and Clover clearly have a history (see this post for a bit of talk on how Clover represents James's now lost left hand) and Winter obviously can't make up for that.

Let's take a look at V8CH7.

There's a reason Ren cuts Harriet off before she says "Clover." I'd wager there's two reasons. The first, of course, being that Clover is due to return, and the second being that even if he wasn't, Winter can't ever be him, and it's a disservice to her personhood to act as though she could.

Now, Winter knows she can't fill that void Clover left. I don't think she's really trying to, even as she's aware of that expectation (however subconscious that expectation may be). You can tell by the way they hide her expression when Harriet tries to named her as Clover's replacement. But Winter isn't like Weiss, where she becomes her own person after being free from her father. She doesn't fight people's expectations or really establish her own goals like Weiss does. She either runs from it (Schnee legacy) or she just goes with it (Maiden, Clover.)

I think Winter in some way will be a catalyst for the finale events. Nothing on Atlas's side will change until Winter changes, and she could very well be the last straw to either undo James or put him back together. It's not enough for Winter to simply not fulfill the expectation to replace Clover. She must actively and openly refuse it.

I'm not really sure what's going to trigger this change. Possibly Marrow, should he defect first, possibly a confrontation with Weiss after the bomb goes off. But every character's name speaks to some aspect of their character, and I think that if James represents Atlas, then much like the harsh climate, Winter will be something that's deeply impactful towards the fate of both him and the city.

Winter has not been her own person as long as we have known her, and that won't change so long as she is filling an expectation, taking someone else's place, or filling some void. Both Penny and Ren have stated that she matters, not as a Maiden or as a soldier but as a person with choices, and her character cannot grow until she takes those words to heart.

Both James and the Ace Ops are upset that someone they loved has died, but societal norms set in Atlas even before the Great War insist that teams aren’t made of your ride-or-dies, but of coworkers with no platonic or familial attachments. This emotional dissonance leaves them seeking a quick replacement instead of properly processing their grief, and this is where they subconsciously attach their emotional needs to their professional requirements from Winter.

What Ren is saying here isn’t just that Clover is too important to be replaced, but that Winter is too important to replace him.

[ayellowcurtain]

After tonight’s clip (which actually broke my heart) could you maybe write a lil something about the next time Yasmina will see Younes (alone, or if you want with her brother or Aicha)?

Yasmina and her mom going to the supermarket and meeting Younes who’s there with his mother. Of course there would be a lot of staring between Yasmina and Younes, but also I would love to see him with his mom

Yasmina doesn’t feel like going out, but she’s been denying any invitations from her mom for the past few days and she can tell her mom is starting to worry and soon she’ll start her questions. And Yasmina doesn’t want to have to find an excuse as to why she’s been hiding in her room since Friday night. She spent the whole night crying, not only for Younes and Aïsha being more than friends but everything else, meeting them at the movie theater was just the last straw.

And then she was extremely tired yesterday for the whole day, not feeling like interacting with anyone, even though Elias still has to learn how to knock on a door and he may have sensed something was wrong when he bursted into her bedroom to get borrow some clean sheets because she forgot to put his ones to dry.

She adjusts her hijab around her ears, sitting at the edge of the seat to see herself closely, make sure the dark circles around her eyes are well hidden with the make up she put on.

“Yasmina?” Her mom knocks on the door and Yasmina checks the time while grabbing her phone to put inside her jacket. Her mom is a little early but she rushes to open the door with a smile, closing and locking the door behind her.

“Everything okay?” Her mom asks, clearly searching for any signs that something might be wrong, and Yasmina nods her head, walking to the door.

“Did Elias ask for anything?” She changes the subject, unlocking the door for them, waiting for her mom to join her outside.

“Of course, when does Elias not ask for food?” Her mom laughs quietly, walking next to her and Yasmina snorts. Elias always wants something. She clicks on her phone again because it’s like part of a routine now, to constantly check your social media at all times but Yasmina doesn’t even want to see anything on instagram or check if she got new messages.

Aïsha posted with Younes on Friday, and Yasmina almost deleted instagram from her phone. She and Younes were never a thing but she couldn’t help being mad at Aïsha for posting those photos when Yasmina told her about feelings she wasn’t even sure about. She didn’t trust Aïsha to tell, it just slipped out of her mouth that day but still. Aïsha heard her feelings pouring out and she still acted like she didn’t know a thing.

There’s some notifications from the groupchat with the girls and Yasmina rolls her eyes at that, thinking about Britt and her hot and cold behavior all the time, changing as quickly as the weather.

“So...how are your friends?” Her mom asks, and Yasmina tries not to get defensive and actually tell her mom about them, some of them, at least.

“Luca invited me to go out for lunch today but I didn’t feel like it. I’ll probably have to go to Robbe’s this week to do some homework. We have to watch an old movie for a class…”

“Do you know the title? Maybe I know it.”

Yasmina shakes her head, laughing and meaning it while thinking about how carried away her mom can get with her opinions about movies.

“Robbe has the notes so I don’t know the title.”

Her mom nods her head slowly, pressing her lips together.

“Robbe is…?”

“The one we saw a few weeks ago with his boyfriend.” Yasmina looks at her, not able to keep one more worry to herself. “You didn’t like them.”

Her mom stops before they enter the grocery store.

“I didn’t say anything!”

Yasmina rolls her eyes at that, ignoring the deathly look her mom gives her as a warning.

“You didn’t have to say it, mom, I think they noticed how uncomfortable you were, and decided to walk away to avoid making you even more upset.”

Her mom sighs, following her inside the shop, grabbing a basket for them to put the groceries.

“You and your belgian friends…”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Mom, you don’t even know them. A puppy is literally more harmful than Robbe.”

“Robbe doesn’t understand you. It might seem at times that you live in the exact same reality but it’s not.”

“And I’m only allowed to be surrounded by people that understand me completely?”

Yasmina grabs the milk, carefully putting it inside the basket.

“No, but you’ll understand how it can be helpful once you have the right group.”

“Robbe is a good friend. He understands how annoying it is to study until your brain is fried, he understands about always wanting to get the best grades, he understands about liking to study just because. He understands about enjoying our teenage years, even with school. So it’s not everything, but it’s one thing that’s important to me that only he really gets the way I do.”

Her mom smiles, looking at her, not as judgmental as before.

“He seems nice.”

Yasmina exhales, not wanting to constantly be justifying herself and her choices to every single person.

“He is.”

Someone is walking down the same aisle and Yasmina stops talking, pretending to need to grab something at the top shelf when the other people passing by stop talking and she looks over her shoulder, finding Younes holding a basket, and an older woman next to him, smiling at Yasmina.

“Hi…” Younes starts, looking at her mom. Yasmina is not sure how her mom will react, if Elias has tried to talk to her to talk to their dad and let Younes inside their home again.

“Good morning.” Her mom nods her head at him, and smiles at the older woman.

“I’m sorry, we just moved to this neighborhood and I can’t seem to find where the spices are.” She justifies, and Yasmina’s mom steps closer to take a look at her groceries list to see what they’re looking for exactly.

Yasmina meets Younes’ gaze but only for a brief second, and accidentally. She thought he had stopped staring already.

"How are you?” He asks quietly, and Yasmina keeps her eyes at their moms - she assumes it’s his mom based on the way she has hand carefully wrapped around his biceps.

“Good.”

Yasmina tries to think of anything else, some light and funny to keep her blood running normally inside her body, not making her blush, and to not remind her of what she was on Friday and how much she cried about it already.

Younes’ fingers are holding the basket tight, his knuckles going white as he squeezes the handle. He opens and closes his other hand slowly.

“How are you, Younes?” Her mom finally asks, making them both jump, and Yasmina sees his feet quietly moving a little bit back, away from her.

“I’m good, thank you...How’s everything?”

Yasmina looks at her mom, nodding her head and smiling at him, not as defensive or mad as her dad is about him.

“I’m sorry about my husband. But you’re welcome at our home.”

Yasmina frowns, would quietly squeeze her mom’s arm or gently kick her feet if they were close enough. The very last thing she needs is Younes back to visiting her home, her brother on the daily.

“I’ll talk to him, don’t worry.” Her mom adds, and Yasmina steals another glance at Younes, blushing, with his eyebrows as high as they can go, surprised by the news and his mom had to reassure him, right?

“I’m gonna go look for some new shampoos…” Yasmina walks away without saying goodbye, in desperate need to not be around Younes, needing to put it to good use the time away from him she has now that he’s allowed to go to her place again.

[shrimpngritcakes]

Buddie prompt #3: 9-1-1 & Lone Star crossover idea

I’m putting this idea here for someone to claim if they wish. It was originally posted on Ao3 (now with additions), but deleted it due to ToS. If anyone wants this prompt, please comment below so I can delete it after you copy it to prevent similar stories.

His breaking point was a kiss.

One he knew he wasn't supposed to see. With anyone else he would feel like a voyeur, but all he could feel was a dark emptiness opening in his chest.

With Eddie’s truck being in the shop for a tie rod that had broken while at work, sending Eddie into a storm of cursing in Spanish, Ana had picked him up for their latest date.

And dropped him off.

If was a horrible fluke that Buck had stood up to look out the window at just the wrong moment. He should have been in the spare bedroom asleep after a grueling 24 surrounded by all the things he had brought with him when he moved in all those weeks ago.

Buck makes his excuses to leave while Eddie is completely confused and trying to get him to talk. Eddie tries to call Buck but he doesn't pick up.

Buck goes to see Bobby and Athena. It all spills out, including not feeling wanted by his parents. Bobby thinks Eddie is being an idiot but keeps this to himself. He suggests a leave of absence for mental health. Bobby receives permission from his superior to place Buck on open ended leave after giving him a brief explanation of the situation. Ending with him saying to Bobby, “That poor boy. If I ever meet that boy's parents…”

Bobby answers, “Get in line, but there may not be anything left after Athena gets them first.”

TK is surprised to find a sleeping Buck in his Jeep in the parking lot of the 126. An off duty Carlos takes him back to his place where he crashes on the couch. Buck has a nightmare and Carlos talks him down.

Owen calls Bobby saying he has his boy and they'll take care of them. He has a plan and discusses it with Bobby. The whole absence makes the heart grow fonder concept.

“Is it mutual?”

“I’m not 100% sure, but…”

“You can't tell Eddie. Even if he begs for answers for his son, you need to stand strong. It needs to be him asking for himself. If this goes wrong… We'll take Buck in here. He'll have a home with the 126. It will take a while, but we'll help put him back together as best we can until he's back on his feet. He won't be alone.”

Bobby wipes at his face, “Thank you."

“Let's hope this works.”

Eddie is worried and confused why Buck never came home. His phone is going straight to voicemail. Now he isn't there for his shift. Another man comes in and introduced as Buck's temporary replacement. Eddie asks Bobby where Buck is, but he won't give him a straight answer. Eddie is shocked as Bobby's tone is harsh and he glaring at him. Bobby later apologized and explains that Buck requested that only he and Maddie know where he is. Eddie tries to dig, but Bobby just shakes his head with a, “I'm sorry, Eddie. I can't tell you.”

Eddie asks Maddie, but she just slams the door in his face. Chim doesn’t know as she's refusing to tell them where Buck is. Chim delivers her handwritten apology the next day to Eddie. It states Buck needs space from everything, but mostly leaves out the part about Eddie (only one or two things that hint, but it goes over Eddie's head).

Athena almost breaks down and calls Eddie a fool before storming away to her police cruiser. She doesn't know where he is because Bobby refuses to tell her (which she finds annoying yet commendable), but she was there for the why when Buck broke down. She'll apologize after Buck and Eddie return. Hopefully together.

Filler with Buck and the 126 and Carlos. Judd takes him out on a horse like he did Capt. Strand. Fill a pothole on how Grace and him are so accepting of TK's sexuality despite being religious.

A Facetime therapy session where Copeland assures him its okay to get away for a while.

Eddie doesn't quite realize yet that he's slowly losing it, but the others can tell.

Paul and Buck have a conversation.

Christopher asking where Buck is because it's movie night. Eddie doesn't have an answer.

Eddie rages in the station gym trying to understand. He almost gets it, but he thinks Buck is jealous of Eddie, not Ana. Cue Hen groaning under her breath, "You almost got it, Eddie. Come on. Keep thinking."

TK, Carlos, and Paul take Buck out to a club. TK talks absentmindedly to the bartender, even showing him/her a picture of Eddie from Insta. Word spreads about the "new guy," Buck. Others keep the “creeps" away from Buck. Buck loosens up a little while there.

Buck Facetimes Christopher on Carla's phone, only for Eddie to walk in just as Buck is hanging up. He sees Buck's panicked/sad face right before he hangs up. He tries to call back, but doesn't get an answer. Carla huffs and shakes her head. "Figure it out yourself, hun. I can't give you this answer. You need to find it for yourself." Cue Eddie even more confused. This is all just about Buck's parents and jealous over Ana... Isn't it?

Roller derby to cheer on Marjan with the bartender flirting with Buck, who is all kinds of flustered. Carlos, TK, and the others tease him mercilessly.

A massive fire where Buck offers his help. Paul gives Buck as sidehug in gratitude.

Eddie almost punching the mechanic because his truck still isn't done.

Marjan takes Buck out to do something crazy because she's Firefox. (Buck is still starstruck). Maybe skydiving or they race each other at wall climbing? Cue competitive banter.

Owen keeping Bobby updated on Buck.

Buck eventually asks for a transfer. Owen asks if this is what he really wants. Buck just shrugs and asks helplessly what other option he has.

(Optional: Bucks gets up quietly at night for a glass of water and stumbles onto Carlos and TK having sex/making out in the kitchen. Buck either flees in embarrassment or is stunned into watching with Carlos and TK aware that he's there. All parties awkward and/or embarrassed the next morning until TK bursts into giggles and laughter.)

Eddie's relationship with Ana is rapidly deteriorating. Christopher has a full on tantrum. Eddie has to koala hug him on the floor, after Ana brings him back home from a not very good date as Eddie's thoughts were on Buck. Ana tries to help calm him down but Chris screams at her about Buck not being around as much as soon as she started dating his dad. “I hate you! I hate you!” He yells her to get out. Ana still tries to talk. Carla snaps at her to leave. She still tries.

Eddie is spiraling. Flashback of that kiss he really wasn’t ready for, but Ana had asked. It dawns on him that that was the night Buck disappeared. Why would Buck leave because of that? Chris is repeatedly asking her to leave, but she's not listening. She's not listening to his son. He finally snaps and demands that she leaves. She storms out. Relationship dead in the water.

Carla can only watch as Eddie breaks from it all.

The original plan has failed, so it’s time for the final attempt. A blatant hammer strike to Eddie's head to knock some sense into him.

Bobby calls Eddie into his office. He shows Eddie transfer papers from Buck along with a list of Buck's possessions to be boxed and shipped. Eddie is speechless. Thoughts of Christopher and losing Buck. He's losing Buck.

He shows Eddie an email he received and Eddie slowly scrolls through, It's full of captioned pictures. Such as:

-Buck staring off into the distance on a horse.

-Buck curled on a couch looking lost.

-Buck looking drool-worthy in club clothes. The caption: “Holy sh@t! If I wasn't already happily taken…”

-Showing Buck blushing as someone talks in his ear.

-Smiling yet not reaching his eyes while dancing.

-Sitting with his head buried in his hands on the engine’s bumper.

-Helping man a hose at a large blaze captioned with “Yes, we had permission for him to be there.” Followed by a picture of someone (Paul, but Eddie can’t see his face as he’s looking at the ground and hidden by his helmet) sidehugging a sweaty dusty still geared up Buck around the neck with a hand resting on his head.

A video. It's Buck spilling everything curled up in someone's arms (maybe Carlos or Grace). “Why am I always alone! What about me?” Mentions of Abby and Ali. His failed dates. Everyone pairing up. Losing part of his sister to Chim after finally having her back in his life after so many years apart. “And Eddie! Eddie… Why does love hurt so much?” mentioning Chris. Etc.

Eddie is shaking. It finally clicks why Buck left.

One more video. It's Capt. Strand and the 126 facing the camera. He knows where Buck is now - Austin, Texas.

“Buck doesn't know we're putting all this together. He’s asleep. We may or may not have knocked him out with sleeping pills.”

They all lay it out for Eddie. Eddie feels all kinds of stupid and blind. “Now, you have a choice here, Edmundo Diaz…”

“Why… Oh my god. This entire time… ”

“Do you love him, Eddie? As more than a friend? Or am I signing these papers?”

A few seconds after Eddie runs out of the room, a sigh comes from the speaker phone. “I'll get things set up.”

“Thank you, Owen. For everything.”

“You're welcome.”

The whole firehouse going up in a cheer after Eddie floors out of the parking lot in his thankfully finally fixed truck. Hen is shaking Chim or vice versa.

Carla agrees over the phone to keep Christopher after Eddie blurts everything out to her, ending with a “Go get him, Eddie.”

“Did everyone see this but me?” Carla is laughing as she hangs up.

Buck sees Owen call TK over and whispering in his ear. Tk has an interesting reaction before running out of the room with his phone already to his ear.

Flashbacks as Eddie is scrolling through his pictures on his phone while on an airplane. How he missed it. How he didn't understand himself. His fall had been so slow he hadn't even realized it until it was almost, or maybe is, too late. His seatmate makes a comment on his happy “family," and it’s a kick to Eddie's already flayed emotions.

Judd is there to pick him up at the airport, which surprised him.

He's dropped off at a club. Judd makes a snarky comment after handing Eddie a hotel room key card through the window. Eddie rolls his eyes as Judd drives off laughing. The bouncer, having seen the Diaz blazoned on the back of his LAFD shirt, waves Eddie inside, skipping the line. The whispering starts as soon as he enters. Word had spread and they had been hoping for Buck. “Is that…”

“I think so.”

He's shocked as the crowd starts to part for him. The music lowers in volume. People are staring and he's embarrassed, etc., but he sees Buck, who TK has made sure looks phenomenal. Taking a deep breath, he squares his shoulders and walks forward.

Buck is dancing between Carlos and TK. He feels Carlos start smacking TK on the back before they pull away from him. They’re both grinning so wide he suspects their faces are hurting. TK is not so quietly squealing in excitement.

A hand covers his eyes from behind. He immediately recognizes the body wash smell. “Eddie…”

Mini conversation/argument, neither realizing the club has gone dead silent, with Eddie yelling “Because I love you, you idiot!”

The entire club loses it with TK whooping, jumping with a fist punch, and laughing.

End there with a kiss, at the hotel room which may or may not get steamy, or Buck telling Christopher he's home with Chris tackling him to the ground.

[tazzytypes]

Apocalypse: Sanctuary - Chapter 17

Authors note: Hey guys! Sorry, had to delete and repost this chapter because Tumblr is, once again, giving me difficulties. Just want to thank y'all so much for being patient with me as I finished up with classes. Hoping these next few months will give me more time to work on this fic. As always, your comments and likes always make my day and help me get through the worst of writer's block and I cannot thank you enough for that!

READ MORE on AO3 or see the Master post!

When the witches got back to the academy, the sun had barely risen above the horizon. Emily hadn’t realized how accustomed she had become to the usual hustle and bustle; the silence was nearly as stinging as the constant noise.

They were all dead on their feet. After hell, sleep had eluded Emily. The fact Madison had forced her to sleep on the ground didn’t help… neither did the darkness. It was suffocating, that place. Sometimes she was afraid the underground fortress would become her tomb. They had all tried to catch up on sleep during the plane ride home, but Misty snored so much it made the feat nearly impossible.

So, barely able to put one foot in front of the other, the witches made their way through the door. Zoe grumbled about canceling classes, Cordelia muttering an agreement.

“A break? Already?” Coco said. She stood next to Mallory by the stairs, looking more like butlers than students. The pair must have been the only ones awake, looking to one other and smiling at a silent inside joke. “I like this school.”

“I trust there were no disturbances while we were away?” Myrtle asked, handing off her bags to Kyle who proceeded to take them up the stairs.

If Mallory were a bird, Emily would have said she was preening, “No more than usual.”

Kyle paused by Emily for a moment, hand extended, but she waved him forward. Kyle smiled and nodded, proceeding past them and towards the stairs.

“Oh, lover-boy,” Madison sang as he began to take the first step, pulling Emily’s attention away from Mallory and their headmistress, “my bags?

The blond man hesitated, then doubled back. He rearranged the bags on his arm and picked up the ex-movie star’s numerous suitcases, all either Chanel or some other overpriced name brand.

“You have two arms,” Zoe snapped at the woman, her own bag in hand. Emily’s gaze flickered to the floor, green eyes darting between it, Cordelia, and the scene unfurling before her.

“It’s fine,” Kyle said quietly, giving a pointed look at Zoe, “It’s my job.”

The look seemed to soothe Zoe, her shoulders tense but her back no longer arched like she was about to swing at Madison. Madison opened her mouth, unable to resist not having the last word.

A body barreling into her side kept Emily from hearing exactly what was spoken. By the look on Zoe’s face, it was nothing good.

“Oh, I missed you!” Coco exclaimed, squeezing the girl in a hug. Emily did her best not to tense, but the reaction was second nature to the brunette. “How was California?”

“Dry,” Emily said, earning a chuckle from Coco.

“Obviously you didn’t go to the beach,” Coco said, “How did it go?”

The brunette’s eyes darted to the figure moving towards them, continuing to speak as Mallory approached. For some reason, Emily had expected her and Cordelia’s talk to last longer. She settled in to place beside Coco, listening with an attentive grin.

“We’re all in one piece,” Emily said, looking back to Coco, “so I’d say rather well.”

Mallory reached out and squeezed Emily’s arm, her ever-present grin widening ever slightly. “See? I knew you’d do great!”

“Who’s this, Firefly?”

Misty had always got possessive a little too quickly. It was her vice, clinging to things too tightly. Her mother used to call her a “little python…” the snake in the garden of Eden.

Emily faltered ever slightly. As someone who kept to herself, she was more used to being the one introduced, not the one introducing.

“Coco, Mallory,” She spoke, glancing between the two girls and her new acquaintance, “Misty Day.”

Mallory rushed forward to shake the woman’s hand as if she were meeting Stevie Nicks instead of a girl from the swamplands of Mississippi.

“I’ve heard so much about you from Miss Cordelia. You’re a legend here!”

Misty pulled her shawl in tighter and glanced between Mallory and Emily. Being the center of attention was an anxious position for her. The last time she was the center of attention, she went to hell. The first time had her burned at the stake. Her steps back from Mallory and into Emily’s side were more a flight instinct than an anxious tic.

“Aw, shucks,” the swamp witch said with a flickering smile and a chuckle, “Didn’t think I was here long enough to make an impression.”

“Resurgence is a remarkable power,” Mallory insisted, “If not for you, I would have thought myself a freak.”

“Well, ain’t that sweet.”

Myrtle was quick to rescue the woman from the over-exuberance of the younger witch, placing a steadying hand on Misty’s shoulder. Cordelia was not far behind. Emily could feel her brown eyes on her back like a botanist studying a new plant species.

“While I love pleasantries,” Myrtle said, “I am absolutely famished. Airplane foods always fall flat.”

“It’s because of our sense of smell,” Emily said, trying to ignore the weird looks she was getting, “The altitude affects our nasal passages, making it harder to smell and thus harder to taste. The two are inseparable.”

“So, it’s like how parents plug their kid's nose to get them to take their medicine,” Mallory said. Emily sent her a brief, but thankful smile for making the moment feel less awkward than it was.

“Exactly.”

“Either way,” Myrtle said with a wave of her hand, “I am craving a crème brûlée with a glass of chardonnay.”

Emily smirked a bit before she spoke, “Chardonnay sounds good.”

“Not yet, you,” Cordelia admonished through a chuckle, ruffling Emily’s hair a bit, “We may be lenient with a lot of things, but underage drinking will not be one of them.”

The brunette wanted to note she had done plenty of underage drinking the night before but refrained. Part of being able to bend the rules is pretending you didn’t break them.

“Oh, come on,” Madison said, standing at the back of their little group with her arms crossed in front of her chest, “Little miss indigestion just went to hell. Let her live a little.”

“Maybe a glass,” Cordelia relented, earning a few chuckles from the group. “One.”

Emily echoed the expressions of her fellow witches, but Cordelia’s humor did not amuse her. The headmistresses statement assured her of one thing, however. The brunette had secured a place in the inner circle of Robichaux. It was a feat she would have been proud of before, but now…

Now, the real world seemed so dull. Sensations failed to feel real-- like the world was covered in a fog. Her hands would hover, expecting something to come to her palm and playing off hesitation when it didn’t. Emily had always fancied her dreams to the waking world. The real world now felt more dull than usual. The young witch found herself missing hell, debating whether or not to chase that high.

“Full already?” Cordelia asked at the table they all gathered around. Emily had been picking at her food for the past ten minutes, gaze flickering to the many conversations around the table.

Emily was quick to brush it off, putting down her fork and taking a sip of her sweet tea, “I’ve always eaten like a bird.”

“Birds eat ten times their weight,” Myrtle noted with an amused smile. Cordelia had been so tense since Hawthorne. For once, Myrtle had to be the optimistic one… if only for the sake of maintaining an air of control.

“Good thing I wasn’t talking in ratios.”

Myrtle chuckled and went back to her food, but Cordelia continued to watch Emily carefully as she turned and offered Misty her desert.

“You alright, Firefly?”

“Just tired.”

“Bad dreams?”

“Something like that.”

Cordelia’s glance flickered to her mentor. The slight quirking of the redhead’s brow gave away her own concerns. The headmistress gaze returned to Emily, her posture straightening ever slightly.

“About your personal hell?” she asked.

Emily faltered slightly at her headmistress’s voice. While they were surrounded by people, most had the decency not to eavesdrop on the more intimate conversations — feigning ignorance even if they heard every word. It was one of those unspoken rules of society.

“No. I didn’t have a personal hell.”

Shit.

Her exhaustion and weird mindset had made her careless. Then again, Cordelia was supposed to help with things such as these, right? The whole point of being here was to learn. How could she learn if she never asked questions? Why did her gut churn like she had been caught with her hands painted red?

Green eyes slowly turned to the brown ones that had burned holes in her skin since she had arrived in Mississippi. Cordelia’s brows furrowed, lips twisting in the way they always did when she didn’t have the answers.

“Then where were you?”

“… I don’t know.”

The table was consumed with silence, no one able to pretend they weren’t listening in to the conversation at hand. Coco glanced around at the table, noting the unwavering stares. Glancing to Emily, she saw her eyes flick between them all, her plate, Cordelia, and back again.

“Probably the jet lag,” the heiress said, “shit makes you forget what your own name is.”

Emily smiled with the rest of them, sending a thankful glance to the woman who squeezed her hand and smiled. The table fell back into idle chatter.

“Hell of a spotlight,” Coco whispered into her glass, eyes flickering around to her fellow witches.

Emily mimicked her movements, “you’re telling me.”

The pair shared a glance and promptly fell into laughter.

“Next time you need to swing by L.A. Beaches are crowded, but the experience is worth it.”

“There’s a tattoo parlor there I wanted to check out,” Emily noted, “Purple Panther. One of my favorite artists works there.”

“We should go and get matching tattoos.”

“What did I miss?” Mallory asked, returning from a trip to the bathroom.

“We’re all going to get matching tattoos.” Coco declared.

“Of what?”

Emily smiled and leaned in, “we should get the triquetra from Charmed.”

“Oooh, yes!” Coco exclaimed, “I loved that show as a kid.”

Mallory’s face twisted in confusion, “Haven’t seen it.”

“We’re binge-watching it,” Coco declared, “tonight.”

“My room?” Emily asked, “I have a TV.”

“No offense, your room is a broom closet.”

“Feels like home,” Emily jested, a genuine smile curling on her lips, “certainly been in it for long enough.”

Coco snorted out a laugh, infecting Mallory and Emily into a fit of giggles. The brunette could feel Cordelia’s eyes on her, a hand going to smooth down the hairs on the back of her neck. She didn’t like it, the feeling of being watched.

“Oh!” Mallory said, “I have a tattoo idea — swords.”

“Swords?”

“For the Three Musketeers!”

Emily gasped as an idea hit her, pulling out her sketchbook and scrawling out an idea.

“What if…”

She finished the crude drawing — a sword with a triquetra behind it. Some of the lines of the triquetra looped around the blade where it was positioned at the end of its point. “… we did both?”

“Both?” Mallory asked.

“Both,” Emily repeated.

“Both is good,” Coco finished, the three falling into giggles once again.

.

.

.

Emily was unsurprised when Cordelia cornered her later in the day. Classes had been canceled for the day, older girls put in charge of amusing the younger ones. The brunette had dozed until 12 o’clock when the cheerful laughing and screeching from the lawn kept her from falling back asleep.

Book in hand, Emily had nearly made it to the greenhouse when Cordelia intercepted her. The blonde woman had been leaning against the door of the rotting shack. Emily wondered how long the headmistress had waited for her out in the sun.

“Walk with me,” was all she said as the brunette got within earshot, her tone filled with bad news. They strolled in silence for a good while. When the playful yelling and screaming was muffled by distance and the trees around the property, Cordelia finally spoke.

“I’ve been to hell myself. It changes a person… for better or worse.”

Emily’s eyes were trained on the ground, navigating over twisting roots and rocks that jutted from the dirt. She spared Cordelia a brief glance. “Which was it? Better or worse?”

“That’s the thing,” Cordelia said, head high and eyes steady on the path ahead of them, “you can never tell which. It’s something only others can see.”

“Is this an intervention or something?”

A smile tugged at the blonde’s lips, “Or something.”

Silence consumed them once more. It became clear that Emily could either talk or they would walk until she did.

“Hell was like a dream,” the brunette relented after a minute or so, “Dreams always feel so real until you wake up. Then, you mourn the reality you lost.”

“Even with nightmares?”

“All I ever have is nightmares.”

Cordelia spared the woman a look. Emily’s eyes were trained on the ground as she took a step over a fallen trunk. Dark circles ringed around her eyes, the purple somehow making the green even brighter. Cordelia realized she had never seen Emily without them. Were her dreams something more? Something that paraded around as sleep when it was really anything but?

Emily’s words were hardly louder than a whisper, “It isn’t the situation I mourn, but the power I have.”

The book in Emily’s hands suddenly felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. It was one of her many journals, each page dedicated to the carefully worded and detailed recollections of the visions her mind procured in sleep. The voice said her dreams were something more. Emily feared the implications. She was a stickler for a little thing called proof, however. Spirits can lie and trick just as well as humans could.

Cordelia regarded the girl beside her, “Powers such as what?”

“In hell, I could pull a weapon to me as if I reached out and grabbed it with my own hand. I could conjure flames and move them to my will.”

Her words were like a snarl on her lip, a frustration that plagued her every hour. Then, the snarl faltered and the grief set in. “Everything was so much clearer… simpler.”

The headmistress stopped and placed a hand upon the girl’s shoulder, squeezing it for good measure. Emily wished she hadn’t. It was easy to hold back tears and emotions when you didn’t have to look someone in the eye.

“You went to hell and brought back my dearest friend,” she pressed, hand trailing down Emily’s arm and taking her hand, cupping it in her own, “just because you cannot perform grand acts of magic does not mean you cannot fight.”

Emily looked at Cordelia, searching for something in those brown eyes. Everyone’s eyes were covered in a fog of optimism. It made real-life feel more like a dream than her dreams did. Their gazes never failed to make her shudder. Coco was the only one who did not succumb. Thus, the only one she somewhat trusted. Carefully, Emily pulled her hand away.

“Michael brought back Misty, not me.”

It was something she had said a thousand times since her return. The people here either didn’t listen or didn’t care. Which was worse?

“With your aid.”

For a moment, Emily contemplated telling Cordelia everything. She was so desperate for answers — so desperate to cut through the fog. She was reminded of The Odyssey, Odysseus’s travel to an island where everything seemed perfect. It was so tempting to give in, to be alright with not knowing.

What was Michael?

Why did the voices speak to him?

Why did she understand their words while Misty did not?

“I had a weird dream last night,” she found herself speaking, her silence lasting a little too long, “I know it means something, but I can’t quite place it.”

Cordelia seemed content in her words, a small smile telling Emily that she had chosen the right words… even if they were not the words she had intended to speak. There was trust to be built before Emily could talk to Cordelia about hell.

“Tell me about it,” her Supreme commanded, gently ushering Emily back the way they came.

“I was in a field,” Emily started, an air of distance taking over her voice. When Cordelia looked to her, she was miles away — eyes filled with fog. “You were there just… waiting. For me, I think, but I could be wrong.”

“What happened?” Cordelia asked, “in the dream?”

“You were standing next to a girl. She saw me first… said her name was Nan.”

Cordelia’s gasp was quiet, but still loud enough to draw Emily from the fog. A manicured hand came to her mouth before going to her stomach as if the woman had been punched. Emily was afraid Cordelia might pass out again.

“Nan,” Cordelia said, speaking around a frog in her throat.

The younger witch felt a surge of anxiety. She should have said nothing, kept her mouth shut. Why couldn’t she keep her mouth shut? It had been an easy feat until she came to Robichaux.

“She was sweet,” Emily found herself saying, “told me not to worry.”

Cordelia leaned on a nearby tree. Emily wrung her hands, biting her lip and waiting for the woman to say something. Her heart leaped into her chest when she heard the woman sniffle back a tear.

“Did I say something wrong?” Emily asked, heart hammering. Cordelia didn’t answer. Should she get closer? Should she squeeze her arm as Cordelia had done to her many a times? Emily had never been good at consoling. “I’m sorry.”

The woman finally shook her head, the heels of her palm swiping away the few tears that had trailed down her cheeks. “No… no, you’ve brought me a great deal of peace.”

Curiosity always got the best of her.

“Nan…” Emily said, “You recognize her?”

“She used to be a student here… before her untimely death.”

“I’m sorry.”

Cordelia sighed and straightened her shirt, quickly taking back the decorum Emily had managed to peel back. At that moment, Emily realized something darkened in her Supreme. The fog left the brown eyes and hardened into something more tangible, her jaw clenched ever slightly, and the mother-like tone left her voice.

“I’d advise you not to approach her in your dreams again.”

Emily faltered for a moment, too caught up in the change to process the woman’s words.

“Why?”

“For your safety.”

“She hardly seemed dangerous.”

“It is not her I worry about.”

Her lips opened to ask more questions, but Cordelia quickly overtook the conversation. “Tell me about the rest of this dream.”

It was probably best if she didn’t argue. Emily went on describing, glancing at the woman now and again. Cordelia’s eyes lost their dark edge as the tale continued — flying, levitation, conjuring of fire and wind — until they once again held the optimistic fog Emily had become accustomed to.

“And when I wake up,” Emily concluded, “I felt like I was not myself. That my real self lies within these dreams.”

Cordelia simply nodded.

“Dreams are more powerful than we can imagine,” she said, “it is, in short, an insight into our true nature — witch or no witch.”

“Then what is my true nature?” Emily asked, jumping back as a boisterous toddler ran past her, two more hot on her heels. They had made it back to the garden.

Cordelia smiled at her, giving her shoulder one more squeeze before she trailed after the children.

“That is something only you can answer.”

.

.

.

Cordelia paced her room, thoughts writhing like a snake that had worked its way into a knot. Unable to move forward or back, she wondered how long she had until death. Do nothing and she would starve — giving into the circumstances like a beast baring its belly to the knife. Tug too harshly, however, and she would sever her own spine.

“I do hope you have good reason for waking me in the middle of the night,” Myrtle sighed as she entered the room. She carefully closed the door, the only sign of her entrance the dulled click of the lock behind her.

The Supreme ceased her pacing, taking to wringing her hands instead as she came to a stop before the redhead.

“I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.”

“You just put a petulant boy in power,” Myrtle scoffed, “What can be more wrong than that?”

“I did it for the best of the coven.”

Myrtle let out a sigh, unable to keep up her irritation. Tense shoulders and crossed arms relaxed and rested at her sides. “My dear, what good are you if you keep working yourself into a fit of hysterics?”

Cordelia either didn’t hear her or didn’t care to address the topic. Hurrying over to her desk, she pushed papers this way and that until she found what she was looking for.

“Were you able to look into the matter we discussed?”

It took all Myrtle’s power not to roll her eyes.

“Evocation rituals of that nature aren’t exactly common if they exist at all.”

“But they do exist?”

“None that I could find.”

“What if we modified a resurgence spell… combined it with dreams. That’s where her skill shows the most, after all. If we could get into that otherness—”

Cordelia had thrown the idea around with the woman multiple times before they visited Hawthorne. Seeing the aftermath of the Seven Wonders, particularly in the trial of Descensum, had made the Supreme all the more convinced of her path. If Cordelia shared any traits with Fiona, it was her stubbornness.

“I still don’t see how her power, any power, could be trapped inside her,” Myrtle insisted once more, “That family of hers didn’t have a lick of magic in her bones. Her mother has no magical talent whatsoever and don’t get me started on that father of hers.”

“Then why is she here at our school?”

Myrtle spared her a pointed look. Cordelia huffed and leaned on her desk, keeping her eyes locked with her mentor’s.

“Emily’s powers have to originate from somewhere,” she said, shaking her head and averting her gaze for but a moment, “Her grandmother died. Maybe she used the last of her power to protect Emily. Delphi had yet to be disbanded when she passed.”

“If that were the case, she wouldn’t be able to go to hell, dear. Maybe it’s as you said; her magic is tied to the other — dreams, visions, prophecy, the whole shebang.”

Cordelia shook her head, “That doesn’t feel right.”

Myrtle was now the one to pace. The carpet was sure to be filled with holes if the issue loomed over their heads any longer. If Cordelia could not let go of this vision, the coven would be doomed. How many more dead ends did Delia need to hit before she recognized the futility of—

“Why are you so adamant about this?” Myrtle found herself asking, more out of desperation than curiosity.

Cordelia gave her a pointed look and the woman scoffed. “Mallory—”

“Mallory didn’t go to hell.”

“And our dear Emily can’t make a butterfly out of petals. Don’t put all your eggs in one basket. One false step and they all shatter.”

“Then help me eliminate this option,” Cordelia said, voice pleading, “Let's perform a ritual and get our answers before too much time has passed.”

“Alright,” Myrtle relented, “let's pull out the books… and the booze.”

.

.

.

Emily sat on one of the tables in the greenhouse like she was waiting at a doctor’s appointment, picking absentmindedly at the thin layer of paint atop the table. The inner circle of Robichaux stood around her watching Cordelia and Myrtle as they gathered material and passed it out.

Misty sat at Emily’s side, holding her hand and offering reassuring smiles whenever the brunette turned to look at her. Part of e was afraid they were going to kill her… or something worse. Death certainly wasn’t the worst thing the lot of them had experienced.

“We believe there is something blocking out our dear Emily’s powers,” Myrtle explained, placing jars of… something around the table.

“Or she just doesn’t have any,” Madison sighed, obviously wanting to be anywhere else as she studied her nails — she just got a manicure. The others stared at her in annoyance. “What? We’re all thinking it.”

“She saw Nan,” Cordelia spoke. She had been silent the entire time and didn’t even greet Emily when she was escorted into the greenhouse by Myrtle. If her silence was out of concentration or concern, no one could tell.

Queenie’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head. Her arms fell to her sides and all she could do was look between Emily and her Supreme. “She what?”

“I didn’t know who she was,” Emily said, glancing to Misty who held a similar expression to Queenie, “Not until I talked to Cordelia.”

“Is she alright?” Zoe asked. She stood opposite to Misty, carefully watching Cordelia and Myrtle as they prepared. “Did she say anything?”

“Nothing of note.”

“But she did say something,” Queenie said, a silent command in her voice.

“Only that I shouldn’t worry.”

Zoe’s brow furrowed, “worry about what?”

“… I don’t know.”

“If we are able to unlock your powers,” Myrtle said, ignoring the scathing look Cordelia sent her. The redhead still held her doubts. “Perhaps we can find out.”

Her words seemed to motivate the other girls. One by one they fell into place around the table, taking a string as Cordelia handed it to them. Misty and Madison stood at Emily’s left, Queenie and Zoe at her right. Myrtle stood in front of her, a large tomb of a book in her hands as she watched Cordelia work.

“Lay down, my dear,” she told Emily, who hesitantly did as she was told, “We will be delving deep into your subconscious and I’d rather you didn’t wake with a concussion.”

Cordelia came to a stop at Emily’s head. The brunette looked up through her lashes and watched as the woman lit a stick of incense, quickly blowing it out and placing it in a cup of sand. Emily really hoped they wouldn’t have a fire accident. If her hair were to be cut even shorter, she’d look like an egg wearing a toupee.

“Concentrate on the power you had in hell,” She whispered, so low that only Emily could hear her, “Visualize it and keep the sensation in the forefront of your mind.”

Emily felt if she were in some weird baptism, one you’d see on a TLC show about those weird Mormon cults. Shaking her head, she reminded herself to focus. She thought of hell, of that classroom — the fire, the words, the void. Emily felt her eyes become heavy before they closed. She saw Michael, blue eyes only showing a brief moment of alarm as fire raged around him.

Cordelia looked to Myrtle. The redhead began to chant. One by one, the other girls echoed her words. Emily was only slightly aware of their actions, their voices sounding miles away. Finally, Cordelia echoed the words. Her hands cupped over Emily’s face, covering her eyes and centering the spell between her brows, the third eye.

Once again, Emily fell into a slumber. Cordelia prayed that, when she awoke, her questions would be answered.

[littlefreya]

The Way to Hell - Part 6

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it or parts of the source material and claiming it as your own*

Summary: Post Mi6 - August manages to escape with his face intact and just won himself the title of being the most dangerous man on earth. With every agent in the world on the hunt for him, life became a living hell, but that’s okay because hell is where he reigns.

Too bad for the woman who’ll stand in his way.

Chapters: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10| Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 |

Pairing: August Walker x OFC (Ingvild) | August Walker x ofc Suzy

Word count: 5K

Warnings: Dark themes, rough oral sex, gagging, hinted anal, mentions of rough sex, and August twisted thoughts.  

A/N: The adventures of August and Ingvild continue 💖 thanks again for reading and giving me your feedback, it keeps me fueled so keep it up :D! Of course thanks @agniavateira​ for editing my work and being my muse.

Title: Stargazer

The love boat sets sail through the icy water of the North Sea. The apostle, Knight_of_Cockn3ss, or whatever that kid’s name is, wasn’t joking when he mentioned a romantic cruise.

The traitorous sun hangs mid-sky as August trails across the deck. A beige fedora covers his dark curls and a matching cream-coloured suit over his sturdy body. In his right hand rests his laptop, he is not daring to leave it out of sight even for a minute. His eyes observe the surroundings; he must be the only single person on this trip, surrounded by timid couples on the verge of divorce and sugar daddies with their sugar babies.

‘At least the young girls are pretty.’ August greets a tall blonde, holding one hand behind his back and giving her a small bow before continuing on his way.

He’ll have to endure this trip for a couple more days, which isn’t ideal by any means, but he can’t risk getting caught or killed. Airports all over the world are swarming with security guards, agents, and assassins on really fucking high alert by now, all of them waiting for him.

The irony of the situation is that a long time ago used to be one of them. A wanted target on a scale of world catastrophe would spin a web of agents worldwide and Agent Walker would always get there first. That’s why they called him “The Hammer” - he nailed each target on the head, among other things.

No one cared about torture and extreme violence. He once brought back a target in such a dire condition that Erica was forced to send him to psych evaluation. He bluntly told the psychiatrist he enjoys the violence for no particular reason why, and then fucked her over the desk.

He scoffs at the memory, breaking into a wolfish grin.

Standing on the rail, his gaze is glued to the blue horizon, following the trail of sea-foam left by the boat as it slices through the water, disturbing the peaceful life beneath the sea. Slowly, his chaotic mind begins to drift, reveries of the CIA reminding him of her.

Golden locks of hair glow like hot sand on a summer day. Sweetly, she jokes about buying a yacht, telling Erica to fuck off so they can leave everything behind, and sail into freedom.

Memories are perfidious. Why has she been on his mind so much as of late? She’s been dead for years, flesh eaten by worms and the insects.

She is no more but a sack of rotting bones.

To condemn her memory is more than she deserves.

August’s nostrils flare. For whatever reason, his mind wanders to the girl who lived. Gently snorting, he shakes his head, remembering the condition of how he left ‘poor little’ Ingvild; half-naked, wrists tied up to the bed, probably crying to whatever father figure she has.

After what he did to her, she’ll probably retire from Icarus.

“I’m coming after you,” he mimics her voice in his head, and laughs while making his way toward the stack of beach lounge chairs. The section is nearly empty as most of the lovebirds are dinning in the main hall and unlike the degenerated visitors of this cruise, he is here solely on business.

Much work is left to be done. “Knight” has promised to meet him in London’s sky tower, suggesting he may or may not have a source of plutonium. Whether he’s a broker, a source, or a possible troll matters very little to a man on the run. Desperate times are ahead; he may be sticking his neck out, might be stepping into an obvious trap, but choice is scarce at the moment.

‘This is not the type of anarchy I dreamed of.’

That little girl, Ingvild, was the first to come. There will be others, endless more until the world will fall apart.  

“I’ll keep coming after you.” Her voice hinges on his troubled mind.

He opens his laptop with a groan, trying to ignore the truth that lies on his mind like a pile of heavy brick.

‘You should have left her pretty face to die in the bottom of the lake.’

“Oh, but to miss out on all the fun that followed in that bedroom?” he speaks to himself quietly, unlocking his laptop with a retinal scan.

Luckily, his old drive is still accessible on the cloud he encrypted. Years of work and dirt collected on the CIA and the government nestles on a single server. The ugly truth, the lies, the corruptness. Thick and black like a pit filled of tar.

Erica Sloane has her own dedicated special folder. Personal vendetta was never on his agenda, it was never about revenge, it was about a cause but sweet Erica deserves whatever damnation he could think of. He hopes that when he detonates his nuclear bombs, that once this world falls apart, she’ll sit on a front-row seat to see her failures raining down like fire from the sky.

A vicious smirk paints his face as his fingertips slide onto the touchpad. August scans through his many folders, seeking a specific one regarding illegal weapon deals. It would be a lovely afternoon at the CIA had one of these recordings or documents would find their way to the public eye.

August slides the cursor around, entering one of the CIA’s subfolders when his smile fades away.

He thought he deleted her folder a long time ago, but it seems like mistakenly, he placed it in another section instead.

And now here it is. A name he thought he’d never see again: Lacey.

Strange, he hardly remembers what she looked like. How long has it been? Six? Seven years ago? In his dreams, she’s nothing but a rotting corpse, but the mind has a tendency to alter one’s memory, doesn’t it?

Was she even sweet at all?

‘Manipulation was her strongest trait anyway.’

Without mustering a mother breath, he deletes the folder, and proceeds to search for the files he means to leak. He muses if they caught up with the notion that it was him who poisoned the well this entire time. Years of stirring chaos while sitting with his laptop of his bed while Sloane and her high-ranking management freaked out and did all that’s in their power to cover shit up.

It was so hard to keep a poker face and pretend he is trying to help. One particular time, he got so ecstatic he had to go and jack off in the men’s room.  

‘That was a good one.’

Something abruptly disturbs his attention, making his heart nearly drop.

‘It can’t be, is that...?’

A petite brunette passes through the lounge, joyfully trodding along the deck. Her hair is tucked back into a ponytail. No, it can’t be her, not in the situation he left her at. By what sort of dark magic would she exactly appear here out of nowhere?

‘I wouldn’t be surprised if the little Valkyrie turns out to be some sort of a witch.’

The brunette feels his gaze upon her figure and turns. He is met with a brown, warm gaze, rather than the sharp icy lustre that is Ingvild’s trademark. Less pretty as well, but looks about the same age, perhaps a year or two younger.

Another sugar baby, weary and discontent.

August realises he must have been staring with a dumbfounded look as she decides to smile back and make her way to him.

“Good afternoon,” she greets in a Midwestern accent. August’s eyes focus on her painted lips and in his mind, he imagines wiping that cotton candy pink lipstick by his thumb.

“Afternoon,” he smiles kindly, tipping his fedora with a welcoming bow.

Always the gentleman.

The young woman moves to sit on the seat in front of him, crossing her legs together as she takes in his sight. She observes and assesses how old he is and how much money he must own.

Probably looking for a new target.

‘Not old enough to be your daddy, but you can still call me that if it floats your boat.’

“Are you a secret agent?” She jokes, peering at his laptop before he smooths his hand on the lid to shuts it. He pretends to be intrigued by her senseless, obvious seduction when his mind once again forced him to go back and compare her to living-dead girl.

It seems like he can’t get away from her. Perhaps her threats were a curse? Even halfway across the sea, this total stranger reignites his curiosity.

‘Does Ingvild has any values? Any empathy toward others?’

She did experience fear in those little moments when his knife penetrated her soft little gut - that look in her eyes; like a virgin, fucked extremely rough for the very first time.

Thinking of those big, terrified eyes light up a snarl on his bewhiskered lip.

There was an inch of vulnerability in that sweet farewell kiss, a sense lost look on her face as if she couldn’t fit that emotion into any drawer inside her brain. It made her look so much more beautiful.

He wonders what she would have looked like if he went ahead with his besser urges and fucked her.

‘Maybe she’d finally break into tears. Fuck, I’d love to see her cry.’

“Sorry, I didn’t catch your name?” He interrupts the sassy brunette as she speaks of Lord-knows-what. It seems that she doesn’t even realise he wasn't listening to her for the last 5 minutes she been babbling . The girl smiles sweetly, tucking a brown lock of hair behind her ear. The diamond bracelet that decorated her wrist dangles as she does.

“Suzy.”

“Suzy,” August repeats and smiles charmingly before giving his lips a quick flick of a tongue. “Would you like to join me in my room?”

The brunette pretends to blush beneath the layers of foundation on her face and fakes an argument inside her mind as if she actually considers refusing his bold suggestion.

~*~

Back in his room, he pushes the petite brunette to her knees. He wipes away her makeup, smearing the pink paint with the crudeness of thumb. Suzy giggles, thinking she probably had men do worse than that by now.

‘Oh, darling, we haven’t even started yet.’

August’s large hand traces her rounded face, knuckles brushing against her cheek tenderly while running down to meet her lips again.

“Open up sweetheart,” he commands in a relaxed voice, his index finger demanding entrance to her velvety mouth. She spreads her lips open slowly, allowing him to slip in his long digit to explore the wet cavern while his thumb caresses her chin. Much to his delight, she sucks on his finger obediently, moaning as he slowly pumps in and out of her hot mouth.

“Good girl,” he praises, his free hand reaching to unbuckle his belt urgently and free his aching cock from his trousers. He tugs at himself for a second, staring how she suckles on his finger with fake devotion. She probably do want his cock, but it’s his money that she’d care for more later.

‘Oh, how disappointed you are going to be once I’m off this boat, baby.’

“How about I’ll fuck that pretty little throat, hmm?” August asks and without waiting for an answer, pulls his soaked finger away and clasps his hand around the hollows of her cheeks instead, forcing her to keep her mouth open.

She voices no protest, only her eyes staring at him wide and helpless. He pays no attention, preferring the sight of his cock sliding in between those puffy lips and pushing into the warm depths instead. A prolong groan slips out of his mouth, emphasising the relief of finally getting his dick wet.

Usually, he loves to watch, yet he lets his eyes roll back and shuts them tightly this time while she in the background. It only makes him fuck her throat more vigorously, his hands cradling and saddling her head, forcing her to meet the violent thrust of his hips.

“Don’t touch me,” he rasps breathlessly, as her her dirty paws snake for his waist. Terrified, she pulls away, intimidated by his voice. August’s eyes remain shut yet he can feel the wetness on her cheeks as his thumbs dig into them. Those tears are enough to send him over the edge, and he comes into her throat without any warning, grunting a couple of times and lingering inside her mouth to make sure she’ll swallow him clean.

‘That’s right little Valkyrie angel, you’ll take what I’ll give you.’

The mists of fantasy fade as August blinks his eyes open. Debunked by the plastic-type of woman. Slowly, he pulls his cock out, impressed by the mascara that’s smeared beneath Suzy’s now glassy red eyes. He wipes her lower lip clean and then gives her chin a gentle pinch with a soft grin.

Suzy gives out a weak smile in return, trying to look satisfied while remaining on her knees. He can tell that her little brain is pretty much half-through into realising she made a mistake by following the devil into his room.

Tall and menacing, he looks at her drenched by vile mischief. August moves to sit on the queen sized bed, petting the empty spot next to him. She follows, fighting her instinct to put a hand on his knee as she is used to, afraid that he will bark at her again.

“Tell me, Suzy,” he coaxes, reaching for the wallet in his pocket and drawing out a Trojan condom.

“Have you ever tried anal sex?”

****

“Ingvild,” the old man calls her name once he brings her to her new home. It’s a simple, minimalist apartment with naked walls and generic black IKEA furniture.

Silent, she peers at him, holding her small luggage between sinewy fingers. Everything that she possesses in the world is in that suitcase; a bunch of plaid skirts, white buttoned shirts, and a few books about fairies and monsters.

This man called Liam, is he to be her new father? He never even offered her a smile and hardly bothers looking into her eyes. Instead he grunts and sighs while making his way around the house and gesturing for her to follow.

At least he is kinder than Mother Superior. At least in here, no girl is going to pick any fights with her and get her into trouble.

“This is your room,” Liam gestures. The pubescent girl sneaks closer, peeking inside with curiosity. It’s not what someone would call a girl’s room by any means, very much like the rooms they had at the orphanage. It contains a single bed with a thin mattress and white metal bars and on the bed rest some casual clothes for her to wear.

At least she won’t have to wear skirts anymore.

As little Ingvild continues to scan the room, she picks on a small library housing some books and a learning desk with a computer. Probably for her to gain some knowledge of the world. She never had any of that at the orphanage, just the bible and the “forbidden” books of fairytales she stole from one of the nuns.

“Today you can rest,” Liam speaks, watching the little girl as she moves to place her luggage inside and sits on the bed.

“Tomorrow, you will start your first day of training.”

‘Training?’

Ingvild says nothing, only glares at him back quietly. It’s quite clear no woman is present in the house which makes her wonder; the orphanage doesn’t allow single parents to adopt, especially not men. Was Mother Superior this desperate to get rid of her that she decided to throw her at the first person who asked?

“Just so we’re clear, girl,” Liam grumbles, “I am not your father. You call me Liam and that’s that.”

She nods silently and watches him leave the room, shutting the door behind. Sighing, she falls back to the mattress, her silver eyes fixing at the ceiling in wonders of what sort of new life has she been sold ito.

“Ingvild...”

A low, velvety voice calls for her again, the mattress dipping, shifting with the weight of the one who joins her. As she turns her face aside, she is met with hungry eyes and a smile so cold it makes her heart shrivel.

August.

*~*

A loud thud wakes her with a sharp inhale. Though her face remain stoic, quickly readjusting to the sight of moving ground as the plane’s wheels make their landing. ‘Arrogant August Walker, invading my dreams’, she curses but pays no more thought to why he was there. Analysing dreams was never her thing. They were just memories of random things that happened to her in her childhood and August is no different as he had been on her mind for the last 72 hours.

He was a job.

One that she needed to get over with.

Liam was at her throat with this one specifically, nagging her like an old shrew. He wasn’t used for her taking her time with it, not his special girl.

Massaging her strained neck, she waits for the last person to leave the plane, observing the empty cabin and noticing how used it appears with all the crumpled, empty snack bags lying on the floor.

‘Ungrateful’, she thinks before exiting her seat and tip-toeing to get her luggage.

The arrivals terminal is infested with agents. Having been trained for years, she sees right through their casual attire, so fake they almost look like B-movie actors. It’s those badly selected outfits and their observant gazes - eyes obsessively fixed on every gate. Every airport in the world must be the same right now, desperate to catch this nightmare of a terrorist.

‘As if he would be stupid enough to travel by plane.’

With a high profile target like August on the loose, it almost feels like the world is on the brink of war.

‘Is that what he wants? To be an anarchistic god that plows chaos everywhere?’

Maybe that’s why he gave her back her life, to humiliate her, to show her how easily he can twist everyone’s life and disrupt the world people know.

‘Mephisto, Lucifer, Hades, Hel.’

“Remember that you’re only alive because I have allowed it.”

A sudden shard of pain sears through her torso, the wound reacting to the phantasm of his low timbre which plays in her mind. It makes her slow on her steps and chews on her inner cheek to suppress a moan that has been begging to escape her lips since yesterday afternoon.

“August Walker”, the name rolls on the tip of her tongue.

Her very first failure, the very first man who killed her.

It almost feels like a bond now, intimate and twisted. August went deeper than any other man ever did - he fucked her internal organs.

‘Is that is why you “performed” for him in the shower? Why you thought about him, slipping inside you with his cock rather than his knife?’

Ingvild huffs tenderly and passes in-between a couple reuniting with passion, her shoulder sharply bumping against the woman, who yells at her while she remains indifferent, never bothering to look back.

Putting on her shades, she continues to head for the exit. The wound in her gut throbs even further, all of a sudden and just when she is tempted to give into the pain and acknowledge it, the new mobile device in her jacket’s pocket begins to vibrate.

Liam, who else?

“Papa?” She answers, the big exit sign finally flickering in front of her eyes.

She can see Liam rolling his eyes without having to see his grumpy old face.

“What progress do you hope to make with this lead? Someone says they saw him in Singapore yesterday, you should be following these threads instead.”

Ingvild holds her breath, knowing very well the lead is false. August was with her a night ago, so close she tasted him, so near his fingers dug deep into her flesh, leaving an imprint on her bones and even though there is something quite demonic about him, she doubts he can be at two different places at once.

“I need access to his world, I need to pick up the clues,” she explains, yet the sad truth is that she has no idea what to look for. August is not a rookie idiot, he did a fine job leaving zero clues back at the bed&breakfast room they “shared”. Not even the receptionist who ogled her oddly when she left could tell her where he was heading.  

“Just get it done, Ingvild. You’re acting like a child, this isn’t like you,” Liam mutters before hanging up.

‘He is right, this isn’t like you.’

Ingvild feels hooks clutching her guts, not just the pain August inflicted upon her, but something deeper, something desperate, leaving a void in that same spot. The fact that he slipped between her fingers seems to torments, just as much as the fact that she lied to Liam for the first time. It makes her feel like a rebellious teenager. She never keeps secrets from him and there she is, lying through every word.

Absentmindedly, her fingers press against her lips as she exits the airport.

~*~

The address led her to a small suburban house in southern London. It’s the type of house that has large glass windows where anyone standing outside can ogle freely. Rich people houses, as she likes to call it. She had a few missions in the past with people living in homes like this one - always an easy kill.

A blond woman meanders about inside the house, wearing a grey silk nightgown, preparing for bedtime probably. According to Walker’s file, she’s the most recent ex - Sydney. They broke up a couple of months before he decided to go on what he thought would be his final mission, his deathstrike.

‘If only.’

Glancing from the gravel path that leads to large metal doors, she learns the woman’s delicate manoeuvres, her mind reciting every graceful gestures as she crouches down to place food for a large Maine coon cat.

‘Is that the type of woman he likes?’

August would strikes her as a man who would fuck anything with a heartbeat but he did have more than a few relationships. She can’t help but wonder if he has a type, noticing how Sydney is more of a woman than a girl; solid income, big name lawyer, a woman who can take care of herself, a woman to start a family with.

Not that she imagines Walker starting a family anytime soon.

She is pretty too, with her mid-length straight golden hair, bright eyes and a shapely body. Ingvild looks at her own outfit: jeans, sneakers and a black sleeved shirt, nowhere as classy as beautiful Sydney.

The hour is late, still she walks toward the door and rings the bell.

“Can I help you?”

Ingvild is greeted by green eyes and a subtle Welsh accent. She gives her one of her fake smiles, trying to look as charming and pleasant as a sweet doll.

“Sydney Bedford?” She asks, while briefly scanning her body. She tries to imagine what August liked about her the most; her figure? Her angelic face? Her emerald stare?

“I have some questions about August Walker, he used to…”

Sydney shakes her head vehemently, waving her hands in the air. Something in her eyes drastically changes the moment the name “August” slaps her across the face.

“Are you MI6!? Please, I don’t want to speak about that psychotic loser anymore.”

Ingvild smiles calmly, a soft chuckle leaving her throat.

“Oh you see, he disappeared…”

“Good riddance!” Sydney replies, her eyes filling with anger, her face turning red within seconds. “Listen. I already told them everything I know.”

“Please,” Ingvild begs, batting her long lashes and tilting her head like a cute little kitten. “I’m new in this and my superior will be mad if I don’t at least speak to you. May I please come in? It’s important for my investigation.”

The same childlike charm that works on men might as well work on women, for different reasons in this occasion. Sydney is a single 36-38-year old woman who lives alone with her cat.

She must have wanted a family, perhaps with Walker, no wonder she’s furious.

Leaning against the door frame, Sydney scrutinises the young girl, believing she is younger than she really is with that pale smooth face and big innocent greyish eyes.  

“Come on in, dear.” She opens the door wide, letting Ingvild step inside before closing it behind her.

The main entrance leads into a large living room, furnished with a black leather sofas and a glass coffee table. She owns a TV that is larger than Ingvild's entire living room and the walls are moulded with grey bricks, shiny from some cut stone.

Ingvild imagines how lovely it would feel to crack the shimmering stone with August’s skull.

“Would you like some tea?” Sydney offers while heading toward her luxurious kitchen.

“Please,” Ingvild answers, walking around the house and examining every corner to learn of the woman who invited her in. She nearly stumbles as the large cat rubs against her foot. “Oh,” she exclaims, lowering herself to pick the chubby feline to her arms.

She never owned a pet. Liam said it’s unnecessary.

“So like I said,” Sydney calls from the kitchen, putting the kettle on the stove. “I don’t know anything about August and where he is. All I can tell you is that he was weird.”

“Weird? How?” Ingvild asks, stroking the cat behind his ears and while it purr against her chest.

Sydney places two mugs on the black marble counter in the kitchen and opens a cabinet, looking for some tea bags. “He would disappear and then return after weeks, telling me not to ask any questions. Then, he would go away and come back in crazy hours. He was a gentleman of course but arrogant and demanding, never taking no for an answer.”

Ingvild turns to look at Sydney, arching her eyebrow as if she is surprised to learn this about the man who stabbed and drowned her in an icy lake. “Is that so?”

“Yes!” Sydney shouts back, her chest heaving as she throws the bags into the mugs and turns toward Ingvild.

“Everything had to go his way, and I won’t be surprised if he had a mistress or another family, or god! Maybe an illegal drug practice.”

The cat jumps down from Ingvild’s embrace, and she brushes the grey hairs off her black shirt. “What makes you think this way?”

“Like I said; disappearing in the middle of the night, coming back... I knew something was off so I went and... wait I… I shouldn’t tell you this, you’re an agent!” Sydney looks around her, as if she’s afraid someone might be listening to their conversation.

Ingvild takes a step forward into the kitchen, her grey eyes seeking Sydney’s, giving her a warm, kind smile. “You can tell me anything Sydney, you are not in danger, I promise. We just want to locate Walker, he hasn't reported to HQ in a while.”

Sydney observes her gaze, trying to determine her personality. She thinks the young woman seem gentle with those unique eyes and the hair that’s tucked back to a strict ponytail.

“I had him traced,” she whispers. “I know I wasn’t supposed to because he is CIA, and trust me I was scared but I had to know.”

“How did you do that?” Ingvild asks, tilting her head with curiosity and slight disbelief. It seems odd that a man like Walker was bugged by some dumb lawyer woman.

“I did his laundry, it wasn’t hard to hide something inside the pocket of his jacket. I mean, inside the fabric, where he can’t find it.”

Ingvild can’t help but let out a small snort, amused by the fact that the infamous CIA agent got made so easily. She covers her mouth with her fist, shyly smiling into it, but it’s noticed by Sydney who stands in front of her, staring oddly.

“Where would he go?”

“Some place in South Kensington, almost every day for the last month of our relationship. He would vanish there for hours and then come back. I have the address, hold on.” Sydney leaves the kitchen and walks through a long corridor.

Not bothering with politeness, Ingvild follows her, easy off her feet like the big grey cat, carefully exploring this new territory. She imagines the fights August would have with this woman and then the passionate sex afterwards while her hand runs against the texture of the garnet.

“Oh!” Sydney exclaims, confused to see Ingvild in the doorway of her bedroom. The young woman looks around curiously, trying to find any memorabilia from August; a photo, a clothing article, man cologne. It seems like he was never even been here, though there is a certain coldness in this room that feels strangely familiar.

‘No, not August, his touch is warm.’

“He did trading or something,” Sydney says as she hands her over a small yellow note that was hidden in her purse. It has the address to August’s “secret lover”.

Ingvild takes the notes, memorizing the address before placing it in her jeans pocket. “Trading? Can you elaborate?”

She shrugs. “He asked me to not disturb him while he was doing some dealing, I don’t know what it was… it looked fishy but it might just be CIA stuff.”

Ingvild nods silently, scanning the room again and again and eventually taking in the sight of the empty bed. Her mind fills in the gaps, painting an image of August fucking Sydney into oblivion, his muscular body ramming into hers, one leg held over his shoulder while the blond little bitch screams in ecstasy.

“How was he in bed? Would you say he performed well?” Ingvild asks, her eyes gesturing toward the mattress.

Sydney frowns, giving her a slight repulsed face as she finds her question remarkably rude.

“How is this relevant to the investigation?”

She means to berate her when she witnesses Ingvild’s kind smile growing remarkably cold.

The young woman remains silent, taking a step closer and making Sydney almost stumble back as sudden fear creeps in. Grey frigid eyes, like icy shards, her nostrils slightly flares as she catches up the scent of her expensive perfume.

“How is this relevant to the MI6?!” Sydney asks again, trying to dismiss the tension yet continues to draw distance from the young agent.

“I never said I am MI6.”

Sydney’s back hits the wall with a soft thud, she attempts to flee but Ingvild’s hands lock around her shoulders, forcing her against the wall with a thud. As small as this woman is, she is way stronger than she appears.

“How was he in bed?” she repeats, her voice becoming more demanding while her glare threatening to spear into Sydney’s skull. “Would you say he satisfies you?”

Puny gasps peal from Sydney’s mouth, her green eyes becoming moist with pure fear.

“Please, don’t... He was... Rough.”

“Bondage?”

“He... he..he choked me,” she answers in a trembling voice, her lower lip quivering, much to Ingvild’s delight.

“He was too rough, he was big and he didn’t care, it was as if he enjoyed my pain...”

Ingvild licks her bottom lip, imagining Sydney thrown on the bed with August treating her like a rag doll, wrecking her completely. Bruises left everywhere, tattoos on her skin for the world to see this fine artist’s work. A cold flame licks at her spine, crawling down to the small of her back.

She’s uncertain why.

“Would you say he loved you?”

Sydney’s peers at her quietly, thinking of her answer for a few seconds while Ingvild’s fingers bury into her collarbone, voicelessly demanding a response.

“August Walker is incapable of love. He is dead inside.”

________________________________________________________

Disclaimer: I don’t own August Walker or the Mission Impossible Frenchise

[stevie-kd]

“Cold”

Part 2

Read part 1 here

::In which Bakugou and Kirishima are still trapped in a cave, slowly freezing to death, and luck doesn’t seem to be in their favor today as things only go downhill::

•••••••••••••••

It was probably the sound of teeth chattering that woke him. That didn’t make much sense because he was surprisingly warm in his sleeping bag.

Then it dawned on him. Kirishima.

Bakugou sat up, ignoring the pain that spiked through his back. The fire was nearly out, and Kirishima stood over it attempting to bring it back to life. Even in the dull light Bakugou could see how pale his boyfriend was.

“Dumbass!” Bakugou spat. “If you were this cold you should have told me!”

He looked over at Bakugou with sad puppy eyes. It made Bakugou seethe, disgusted by how fucking adorable it was. Kirishima had no business being that cute.

“You looked so peaceful,” Kirishima admitted. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You’re freezing, idiot. Take the stupid sleeping bag before I beat you to death.”

Bakugou wiggled out of the bag before Kirishima could protest. He kicked it over to the redhead, who only looked guilty accepting it. Nonetheless, he knew Bakugou enough to know he wasn’t joking around. Kirishima looked like a ghost, and that was putting it lightly. His skin was deathly white and his lips were a disturbing shade of purple. The dark, dried blood that trailed down the side of his face only helped to make him look paler. There was a slight tremble to his shoulders Bakugou couldn’t ignore.

“Sit down and get warm,” Bakugou demanded, forcing himself to stand without the use of his arms. “I’m going to get the fire going again.”

“Without using your quirk.”

“Tch. I will if I have to.”

“You’ll only hurt yourself—”

“I don’t give a damn!” Bakugou shouted through gritted teeth. “My arms aren’t as important as our lives.”

“I get that, Kats, but what about your quirk? If you hurt your arms bad enough that you can’t use your quirk again, your hero dream is over.”

Bakugou frowned. “I wouldn’t be much of a hero if I couldn’t even save the guy I loved.”

Kirishima opened his mouth to respond but clamped it shut again. A soft smile spread over his lips. “I love you too, Katsuki.”

He finally climbed into the sleeping bag and parked himself beside the dying fire. He melted into the fabric, and the teeth chattering slowly silenced. “Wow,” Kirishima breathed, “it’s still warm from you. I didn’t realize how cold I was.”

Bakugou knew Kirishima must have been freezing because without the insulated sleeping bag Bakugou could feel just how much the temperature dropped since the avalanche. “Ei, how long have we been in here?”

“Mm, maybe a couple hours? I’m not sure. The communicator still isn’t working, so I haven’t caught word from anyone yet.”

Bakugou huffed. He really hoped the class hadn’t assumed they were dead. After so long without answers, Bakugou wouldn't be surprised if any of them started to feel dread. He knew his classmates well enough to know they wouldn’t give up though.

With his left arm, which hurt a little less than his right, he scooped up Kirishima’s flashlight off the ground and clicked it on. He headed deeper into the cave in search of more sticks, hearing a faint, “Be careful!” from behind him, which he responded to with a grunt.

Fucking rocks everywhere. That’s all he could find! He was beginning to lose hope when he finally came across a branch long dead and speckled with crisp leaves.

He started kicking the thing back towards the fire, figuring he didn’t want to drag it back and hurt his arms more. The pain had lessened to a dull throbbing, but using his arms now would only bring it back tenfold.

He finally reached the fire and started stomping on the branch to break it up into smaller sticks. Once pleased with his work, he sat with his legs criss-crossed and used his left arm to toss branches into the flames one by one. The fire was already coming back to life.

“Good job, dude!” Kirishima congratulated him from where he was snuggled up in the sleeping bag. He scooted closer to Bakugou until their shoulders touched.

“Hungry?” Bakugou asked, leaning into Kirishima. He could feel the slightest warmth radiating from him.

“Honestly, yeah,” Kirishima answered. “I didn’t eat much today. A couple protein bars and an apple.”

Flatly, Bakugou said, “Eijirou.”

“I know, I know. ‘Take better care of yourself, blah, blah.’ I would’ve eaten better if I’d known we wouldn’t be back in time for dinner. Didn’t expect to wind up trapped in a cave when I ran out the door this morning.”

Bakugou scowled. It was because of him they were in this mess after all. If he’d just used his damn brain, Kirishima wouldn’t be freezing to death or starving or bleeding from the head!

Kirishima nudged him. “Hey. I didn’t mean it like that. This isn’t your fault, Blasty.”

Kirishima Eijirou and Bakugou Katsuki—

Both boys stiffened at the sudden voice echoing in their heads. It was a feminine voice, and strangely the woman was speaking directly into Bakugou’s brain, not his ears. He noted the voice sounded distantly familiar as it continued to coil through his mind.

This is Mandalay of the Wild, Wild Pussycats. If you can hear this message, just sit tight. We’re on our way. It may be awhile before we can reach you, so do your best to survive. Keep warm and stay alert. The mountain is more unstable than anyone realized. A second avalanche is likely, but we’ll try to have you both to safety before it comes to that. We’re doing everything we can. Mandalay, over and out.

Bakugou’s mouth felt suddenly dry. He remembered those damn Pussycat heroes from the training camp where the League managed to snag him. Mandalay was the most normal of the bunch of freaks, Pixie-Jo or whatever the fuck her name was had been a total creep, and he wasn’t around the other two weirdos enough to even remember their names.

“The tracker must be working,” Kirishima breathed, more likely thinking out loud than talking to Bakugou. He slumped against his boyfriend, letting his head rest against Bakugou’s shoulder. “They’re coming for us.”

Bakugou grunted his reply. He reached past Kirishima for the backpack, but a sharp pain shot from his wrist to his elbow. He drew back too fast, only managing to worsen the pain. He bit his lip to hold back a yelp.

“Babe! Hey, you alright?” Kirishima was asking then, whipping his arms out of the sleeping bag to cradle Bakugou as he held his arm tight against his chest. “No more using your arms. If you need something, just ask me next time.”

“‘Kay,” Bakugou spoke through clenched teeth. He would’ve argued if anyone else were here, but it was just Kirishima. He knew not to push it. He didn’t like making Kirishima mad.

The redhead pulled the bag to them and dug out the thermos. After he unscrewed the cap, a plume of steam rose from the mouth of the can. “Wow, still warm.”

“Good,” Bakugou breathed out through a sigh. “It’ll help warm up our cores. Help us stay alive.”

Kirishima nodded against him. He took a long sip from the thermos, then passed it to Bakugou. “Cheers.”

Bakugou chuckled at that, but the sound was strained. He accepted the soup, downing a few gulps himself.

There was a strange rumble then. Bakugou stiffened at the sound of shifting rocks. Kirishima‘s grip on him tightened.

There were a few short moments of near perfect silence, despite the crackling of the fire. Bakugou swallowed, bringing himself to stand up. He had a bad feeling rising in his chest.

“Do you think that’s them? The Pros?” Kirishima asked quietly. “Our classmates?”

Bakugou pursed his lips. “I don’t think so, Ei.”

Then it happened all at once, so fast Bakugou could hardly process what was happening. He would’ve been killed if it wasn’t for Kirishima’s instantaneous reaction.

The rumbling was loud, so loud, and the ground was shaking and the ceiling was practically coming down. Bakugou stumbled and tripped over the backpack, throwing his hands out to protect himself.

He screamed at the pure agony that shot through his arms, the sound ripping through his throat. All he could think about was pain, pain, pain.

Kirishima dove on top of him, his body hardened from head to toe. He braced himself on his hands and knees, taking each blow from the ceiling as it crumbled.

The light of the fire disappeared, and the boys were consumed in darkness. The cave went silent and still, as well as Bakugou’s mind.

++++++++++++++

Read part 3 here

IM SORRY... for how long it took me to post this. Not for tormenting our two best boys of course 👀

Yeah, I had a lot of problems with the program I was using to write this (kept telling me there was a merge error ?? And deleting random bits of my work ?????) so I’ve switched over to Google Docs and so far that’s working well for me. It’ll take some getting used to, but worth the change so long as it doesn’t randomly delete my writing 😤 (yes I’m a little salty about it)

ANYWAY ! Thanks for the read, and I’ll have the final part posted soon! I started another fic that I think y’all might like,,,,, maybe,,,, hopefully ?? Yep yep KiriBaku of course.

9/14/2020

[majorshiraharu]

Echoes In My Mind; Chapter 8 - Concerned Commander - Echo x Reader Fic

Previous Chapter

————————————————- Content Rating: Mature+ (18+)

Warnings:  Kissing

If there are any warning labels I’m missing, please inform me.

Rendezvousing = meeting up with someone at a location Notes: Y/O/N = Your character's original name (before they went into hiding) ————————————————-

A/N: I’m so sorry this took so long, I’ve had this sitting in my drafts for forever, my notes pad deleted most of this chapter and I was struggling with remember what I had written and then I had a bunch of health problems so I’ve neglected this fic :( So I’m just going to go ahead and post this chapter so you’re not waiting 3 more months. Sorry <3

-------------------------------------------------

Rendezvousing with your bounty hunter friend, you catch them up on the plan as they join you walking onboard the ship; you introduce the bad batch to them. They're unsure of if your plan will work but Echo and the others assure them that it will work out, that everyone just needed to stay focused and get in and out as fast as possible, knowing the longer everyone was there the more dangerous it would become. Stealing away Echo for a moment you slid into your room with him, wrapping your arms around his neck as the door closed behind him, running your fingers through his curly black hair. It had grown a lot since you first met him; it was long enough that you could actually pull on it. Your nails brushing against his scalp makes him hum with delight, you ran your fingers around some of the metallic numbs that partly stuck out of his head; you knew he felt pretty insecure about a lot of his mechanical parts. He appreciated you making him feel loved no matter how he looked or what his body was made of. His eyes were closed as he enjoyed you massaging his scalp, your warm breath tickling his skin, a beautiful smile on his face. You press a smiley kiss against his mouth. His hands run along the curve of your spine making you giggle, "Echo," you whispered kissing him, the smiling makes it hard to hold your lips together, opening your eyes to look at him seeing him looking at you. "Do you always watch me when I kiss you?" You laughed, watching a grin spread across his face.  "Sometimes, it's hard to take my eyes off of you." "Stop it," you joked, kissing him more passionately, this time he closed his eyes to enjoy the feeling. "I love you," he said as you pulled away, Tech's voice came on over the comm system saying they were getting ready to land.  "We should get going, lover boy." He takes your hand in his, opening the door walking back out to the rest of the crew, "Oh, I love you too," you said turning him around to kiss him one last time before both of you walked into the main area. "Getting in some action before our little mission," your friend jokes, making you and Echo get defensive and flustered.  "I'm just teasing you," they said, cutting you both off in your nonsensical babbling. "I hate you," you joked, hitting their arm. "Oh, well, I hate you too, that's why I came along on this mission," they teased back making you roll your eyes as you shook your head, trying to hide a grin.  "Also, since we need to steel uniforms from the Empire, shouldn't we take off ours?" They asked, looking at the armor everyone was wearing. "Well, take out whom we need and then bring them back here so we can switch," Hunter explained.  "I guess that makes sense," they said, tapping a finger against their chin as they thought it over. "We'll be landing on the outskirts, make sure you don't get spotted by any patrols," Tech said landing the ship, "Call me if there's anything you need, Echo should be able to handle any panels you encounter but in case there's one he can hack patch me through and I'll get it." "I'll do my best," Echo said with a weary smile. "You'll be fine, Echo," you say, placing a hand on his shoulder to comfort him, his smile growing as he looked at you.  "Crosshair, Wrecker, if we need an extraction, be ready, okay? We might not have much time to escape if something goes wrong," Hunter ordered as he walked to depart the ship. "Understood," they both say, wishing you guy's luck as the rest of you followed Hunter out of the ship, putting on your helmet and drawing your weapons as the four of you snuck through the forest area leading to the base. Avoiding the patrols you radio Tech to be careful, hoping they wouldn't notice the rather large ship between the thick line of trees. — Echo stuck by your side until Hunter ordered Echo to come with him and your bounty hunter friend to go with you, since you and your friend would be stealing uniforms from officers it was best that you go together. Meanwhile, Echo and Hunter got some Stormtrooper armor. Luckily it was easy to find some on their own, quickly taking them out and dragging them back to the ship where they awaiting your arrival. Sadly, things were going as smoothly for you and your friend. The only officers you spotted were hanging out in a group, no way of splitting them up that you could find. It took a while of waiting and a rather uncomfortable conversation between you and your friend, "So you dating that guy or what, I know we haven't talked in a while but I feel like that's some worthwhile news you could have sent me," they teased. "Oh shut it, we're not dating.... besides you could have contacted me at any point and never did."  "Geez, no need to get snippy, also you may not realize it, but he's totally got a thing for you, like the way he looked at you." "Yes, I noticed, why do you care." "Ohhh, so you've learned, good to know my teaching stuck with you. I care because you're both adorable and I enjoy teasing you," they replied putting a hand on your shoulder. "Sorry I'm just stressed with this mission and I'm not in a good mood, I don't mean to be snippy..."  "I know... so this Commander Cody used to be your friend... any idea why he joined the Empire?" "He didn't choose to join them, he's a clone, they don't give them much choice sadly..."  "Oh, I see... Well, he's lucky to have you as a friend, willing to get him out of there." "I don't know, I'm worried he won't come with us."  "Why?" "When I spoke to him last, he just wanted me to be safe and take care of the others, I'm just concerned he'll reject our offer so we don't get in trouble." "Well, if it comes to it, I'll happily knock the guy out and take him with us."  "What?! You can't just do that!" "Yes I can, just watch me," they teased, quietly giggling to themselves. "Ugh, if you do, he won't be happy."  "I honestly don't care I'm just here to help you and get him out of here no matter the means." "I won't let you knock him out, besides there are perfectly good Imperials all around us, have fun knocking them out but not Cody." "But this Cody guy is an Imperial dear..."  "I swear I can't win with you." "You did once, and that's why I'm here, and that's also why you're one of my only friends." "You call that winning," you snapped back being sarcastic.  "Ah, you're learning young Padawan," they said, showing their admiration for your quick comeback. "Now can we please deal with these guys, the others are waiting for us," you said pointing out two Imperial Officers who just spit off from the group. "Ready when you are, just lead the way," they said, sneaking to closer cover with you. After following them for a bit, they end up in just the perfect place for a quick takedown, knocking them out and dragging them quickly and quietly back to the ship.

"What took you guys so long?" Hunter teased, crossing his arms as he shook his head, Echo bashfully smiling behind him as he finished putting on the Stormtrooper armor. "Got these guys," your friend said, kicking the unconscious Imperials, "They kept hanging out with their little friends so we had to wait till they split off." "Now let's get these disguises on, I'd rather not be here longer than is necessary," you said, helping your friend remove the uniforms, tying up the Imperials before all of you set off. "This armor sucks, I can hardly see anything," Echo scoffed, trying to adjust the helmet. "Yeah, not the idea armor for my kind of fighting," Hunter said. "Ha, we got lucky these uniforms are pretty comfy," your friend boasted. "Just try not to act suspicious," you told them with a grin, earning a laugh from them. As they get to a locked door, the three of you keep watch while Echo works, seeing some Imperials walking straight for you guys everyone begins to panic. "Echo any time now," Hunter said.  "He's working on it," you scoffed while trying to keep an eye on those headed towards you.  "Even if he gets it, what do we do?" Your friend asked, positioning themselves to be ready for a fight. "Calm down, they haven't done anything yet, just wait," you say looking over at them. "Excuse us, we require your assistance," one of the Imperials says to you and your friend. Both of you look at each other confused, still using your bodies to hide Echo behind you. Luckily they hadn't noticed him yet and were instead focused on the two of you, awaiting your response. "Yes sir, how can we help you," your friend finally replied after looking at their badges. - "Come with us please, there's an error with one of the terminals and we haven't been able to fix it." "Why do you think we can fix it?" Your friend hissed, annoyed that they're bothering you with something a mechanic could easily fix. Suddenly you remember the scans Tech had gotten off the base. If they were talking about the terminal in the main building it would put you close the where Cody was. It would be risky to get to him going that way, hence why the lot of you were sneaking in from a less watched corner, but if they were willing to just let you walk in the front door, why not go? Jabbing your friend with your elbow, you apologize to the Imperials for their behavior, "What terminal requires fixing, and what's wrong with it? I have some experience with those things and can take a crack at it." They look at each other, almost like they were nervous or ashamed, "It's the main terminal, don't tell anyone, but we spilled some caf on it and not it won't start back up." "If you tell anyone you'll regret it, got it!?" The other one said sternly, staring the both of you down, still somehow not noticing Echo who was kneeled down on the ground. - Your friend snickers some before you jab them with your elbow again, glaring at them like your eyes could kill. "We'd be happy to help, and I promise we won't tell anyone," you say saluting them. Turning in their heels, they motioned for you to follow them, talking to each other as you and your friend stayed silent, looking back at Echo and Hunter who were now on their own. "What do we do now?" Echo asked, knowing without the both of you they had no business being in this building and would easily get spotted. "We'll have to just try to get through, you're an arc trooper after all, as long as we can at least find his location we could contact them," Hunter says, looking down at Echo as he finally got the door unlocked. Standing up he realizes something, the Imperials said the main terminal, that was closer to Cody's office, "Hunter, the terminal they're going to is close to Cody's office, if one of them can slip away they could bring him out this way as long as we keep a lookout." "Echo, that's a good idea, now just to figure out how to get one of them out of there."  "We could fake it, I know Cody I could easily comm them and order them to his office." Patting Echo on the shoulder for his quick thinking and excellent plan, he agrees. Both of them sneak inside, hiding at the end of one of the halls behind some crates. - After a little meddling Echo finds out how to contact you guys, but instead of calling you your friend is the one who received the call instead. At first, they tried to ignore the beeping and blinking coming from their wrist. The two Imperials quickly look over to both of you, "Aren't you going to answer that?" One of them asked them. "Uh yeah, excuse me a moment." Damn them, they left you here with these two watching over you, making sure you actually were fixing it. Walking out into the hall but still within ear range of the snooping Imperials, your friend answered the call. 

"Hello? Who is this?" They asked. "This is Commander Cody, I require you in my office now to discuss some information."  "Oh um sir, I'm currently assisting someone with repairs, could it ---" "I said now, get a mechanic to fix the problems unless you've suddenly become one." Good thing the terminal obstructed your face, you could tell it wasn't Cody, assuming it was Echo impersonating him made it hard for you not to laugh. The two Imperials quickly walk out to your friend, with terrified expressions they told them to go, that you could handle the repairs, and it was wise not to upset the commander. "I'll be right there, sir," your friend said before turning off the comm device. "Yeah, best not upset the commander or keep him waiting. Go," one of the men said, almost pushing your friend down the hall. Setting a quick pace, they walk through the halls. They didn't know Cody or Echo well enough to know it wasn't actually Cody. Knocking on the door yields no response from inside, "Kriff, where is he?! This is his office...man, I better not be at the wrong place," they say studying the area, confirming that they were in fact in the right place. "This is my office, are you looking for something?" Cody said, startling your friend.  "Blast, did you have to scare me like that?? Oh, um, Commander Sir!" They said, quickly saluting. "What do you want, and who are you? I've never seen you on this base before," he replied. "I'm Y/N's friend, I'm here with a rescue team to get you out!"  "I already told her I won't be going, there's no reason for everyone to put their life at risk for mine." He coldly replied, unlocking his office and walking inside. Following him your friend continues to try to talk sense into him, "Look, I don't know you, but Y/N is my friend and I would do anything for her especially since I owe her for saving my life. So can you give me a break and just come with me, there's a ship waiting for you not too far from here." "I'm not going and nothing you say will change my mind, Y/N was - is my friend and I won't needlessly put her life at risk," Cody said in an angry tone crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back in his chair. "Well then, I guess you give me no choice..." They said huffing. "What do you --" before he gets a chance to finish they pull out the hidden blaster and stun him, "You better not be heavy," they grumbled, walking over to drag his body with them. "Echo, Hunter, come in I completed my task," they said over the comlink.  "Oh, good work, is Y/N with you, we're covering the hallway here by the exit but not sure how long we can keep this up," Hunter replied. "No, she's still off helping those knuckleheads. Maybe try to contact her, pretend to be the Commander and order her over here, I could use help to drag him out of here." "Wait WHAT — what did you do??" They heard Echo shout. "Please tell me you only stunned him..." Hunter added. "Of course, what did you think I did, I might be a bounty hunter but I'm not going to shoot this guy."  "I mean, technically you did shoot him," Echo said sarcastically. "Listen here you, I just stunned him, he'll be waking up in a bit so get Y/N over here to help me."  "Copy that," the comm cut out. It had been a few minutes, and still no response, and you were nowhere in sight. Assuming their attempt didn't work, your friend tried getting Cody out of there on their own. Damit he was heavy, good thing they were strong enough to still lift him, draping his arm over their shoulder and grabbing his waist. It took a while, but slowly they got down the hallway, having to duck into cover a few times to avoid the patrols and random Imperials walking about. Luckily, the exit wasn’t far away.

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Elliot, Just a Tech

Summary: Plagued by not having Admin rights on your work computer, you contact the IT department expecting to talk to your usual guy. However, you are greeted by someone new.

A/N: Consider this post-show

WC: 2596

Warnings: None

You looked over the icons on your desktop for the eleventh time, dragging the old version of Adobe into the trash for the tenth time, and growling with frustration as the error message appeared for what felt like the hundredth time.

Please enter an Administrator’s Username and Password.

After the great email phishing scam the month prior, the IT department had been directed to revoke all employee’s Admin rights to their computers. It wasn’t your fault your colleagues were too dumb to realize that you should not click on email that has been flagged as spam, even if it is a version of your boss’s name: Mattthew Whitman has scheduled a meeting with you at 9 pm!

As if Matthew spelled with three ts wasn’t enough to deter someone, scheduling a meeting at 9 at night should have been, not to mention the exclamation point to top it all off—no one ever enthusiastically scheduled a meeting. Ever.

Alas, no less than 13 people had opened the email, severely compromising the integrity of the network.

You needed to get rid of the old version of Adobe in order for your network’s cloud to allow the download of the updated version, so you were left with no choice but to submit a ticket to the IT department.

You and Matt, no relation to Mattthew your boss, had had several Zoom sessions since the start of the quarantine, mostly thanks to your need to actually get some work done. With so many more people on your network, the IT department was doing the best it could to make sure everyone was achieving basic functionality.

Opening a new work order, you quickly filled in your information and snapped a screen shot of the error message. In less than a minute, you had an email inviting you to a Zoom session.

“Matt’s really on it today,” you said while opening the link and waiting for him to start the session.

You had just glanced away to check your To-Do list when someone opened the Zoom session and you paused, staring at the downturned face of someone who was definitely not Matt.

“Hi,” you greeted awkwardly.

“Hi,” he answered, still not looking into the camera.

“Where’s Matt?”

The stranger looked into the camera, clearly caught off-guard.

“Uh, he’s off today.”

“So they finally unchained him from his desk—good for him!”

The stranger’s eyes widened a little in amusement, but he didn’t smile which caused your grin to quickly fade.

“Are you . . .” the stranger trailed off as he glanced at his other desktop monitor. “Y/N?”

“I am. And you are?”

“Elliot.”

“Are you the new Supervisor they were hiring for last week?”

“Nope. Just a Tech.”

“All right. Well, hi, Elliot, just a Tech. I’m in dire need of installing an update, which I cannot do because my colleagues are dumbasses.”

This time Elliot did smile, and you found yourself reaching up to fix the wild bun on the top of your head, wishing you had actually taken some time out not to look like a troll who had crawled out from under its bridge.

“I see that you can’t install Adobe’s update without administrative permission.”

“Yup. That’s my issue, I think.”

“I want to try something first,” Elliot said, concentrating on the task at hand as he looked away from the camera and to his other monitor.

“Can you locate your system preferences? You can find it by clicking on the appl-“

“Done. What do you want me to go into?”

Elliot looked back into the camera, then gave you a series of steps which you quickly followed.

“I am only semi-illiterate when it comes to technology,” you said, trying again to get him to smile and this time it worked.

Elliot adjusted his headset and lowered his eyes as he grinned. “You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve had to explain over the past few days.”

“Oh, I would absolutely believe them. I’ve talked three people in my department off a ledge just by explaining the magical powers of “Command + Z.”

Elliot chuckled, and the sound of his laughter filtering through the mic on his headset made you want to stay on the call as long as you could stretch it out.

“It looks like the program is not responding. I’ll need to take remote control of your desktop.”

“Have at it.”

You watched as Elliot worked, waiting for your mouse to start moving across the screen, but nothing happened.

“Uh, do you have any error messages on your end?”

“Nope.”

“Let me try one more thing,” Elliot mumbled, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

You sat quietly, letting him work, which gave you an excuse to just look at him and the more you looked at him, the more attractive you realized he was.

Elliot had a stylish haircut, although it looked like his fade had grown in quite a bit thanks to the lockdown. Tufts of straight black hair stood up on either side of his headset and you wondered if they’d be stiff or soft to the touch. His eyes were large, clearly the most enticing of the features of his face, except for his angular jaw that made you softly smile in appreciation of its masculinity. Elliot may consider himself “just a Tech,” but he was a damn good looking one.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” you blurted out, forgetting all of your manners thanks to the lack of social interaction.

Elliot fumbled as he was typing and looked into the camera, his lips parted.

“Oh, lord. That came out . . . blunt. I asked because Matt’s been loving working from home. His wife just had a baby and even though he’s chained up in his home office at all hours of the day he still gets to spend time with the people he cares about. Which is what I was trying to ask you—if you were enjoying working from home.” You finished with an awkward laugh, and a barrage of mental curses to yourself.

Elliot’s lip turned up with a quirk. “My sister stops by to bring supplies, but I live alone.”

“Oh—well, that’s nice you have someone to interact with. I still see my sister, too.”

“I like this. Not having to interact with people.”

“The only downside is the verbal vomit you spew when talking to someone new because you no longer understand social protocol.”

Elliot laughed again, that same breathy little chuckle that upgraded from drawing your attention to making you shift in your chair.

“I’ve never been particularly adept at social protocol. Hence . . . just a Tech.”

You laughed and Elliot must have liked the sound because he stopped to watch you, his eyes flicking over your face through the camera.

“You need to update the Zoom app for me to take over your desktop. I don’t know why yours seems to have this glitch, but are you ready for the steps?”

You grabbed your pen and a fresh post-it. “Lay it on me, Tech.”

Elliot smirked, then listed the steps. “I’m going to close the call, but as soon as you’ve completed the steps, click on our Zoom link again.”

“Got it!”

Your eyes connected and lingered for just a moment before Elliot closed out the call.

You missed him immediately.

“Oh, Matt. If I had known Zoom calls could be like this, I’d have dumped you long ago.”

You shook your head to clear it and began to go through the steps Elliot had listed for you. You wanted to get this right to prove to him that you weren’t incompetent.

Having successfully, and quickly, completed all of the steps on your Post-it, you reinitiated the Zoom meeting.

“You’re quick.”

“I’m sure you’re much, much faster,” you said.

“I can only go as fast as the web connection, unfortunately,” Elliot replied, staring into his other monitor again.

“Let’s try this again—remember the steps to give me remote access?”

“I think so . . .” you said, trailing off as you began to click.

You paused, then your mouse began to move without you.

“Excellent job,” Elliot praised and you knew you wanted him to praise you again . . . preferably away from a computer, maybe in a bedroom—

“All right. So I need to delete, reinstall, and wait for an error message that’s been popping up making this a little harder for people to do themselves.”

You watched Elliot control your computer, and once he got to a point where the app was updating, he paused and turned back to the camera.

“About that girlfriend thing you asked me earlier. Are you seeing . . . anyone?”

“I was . . . about six months ago. By the time I was ready to get back on the horse, the plague struck.”

Elliot chuckled. “Not exactly the best time to start dating.”

“No,” you said softly laughing, too. “I agree with you, about the whole nice not seeing people thing, though. For me, it’s more about setting my own schedule. I get so much more done without constant interruptions just to chat.”

“Kinda like we are now?”

“Hey! We are waiting on a signal to go to space and come back. It’s only polite to give it some time so it doesn’t feel like it’s being watched—like a watched pot never boils kinda thing.”

Elliot smiled, his eyes meeting yours and lingering as you smiled back.

A new box popped up breaking your eye contact and Elliot went back to work.

“Fixed. You shouldn’t have to worry about the next update. We’ve been reporting this glitch regularly so the developers should have it fixed by then.”

“Thanks, Elliot. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s my job,” he said with a slight shrug.

“Well, enjoy the rest of your afternoon,” you said, wishing you had a reason to stay connected.

“Yeah.” Elliot replied, looking at you again with those hypnotic, grey-blue eyes. If they could impress you through a screen, imagine what they looked like in person. “You too.”

You smiled at each other and when neither of you closed the call, you both laughed, Elliot looking a little shy and you looking a little embarrassed.

“I’ll close it. Don’t forget to fill in your survey so big brother knows I did my job.”

“Five-star service, all the way!”

Elliot chuckled again, and you shivered this time, the sound of his voice working its way through your entire body, filling you with a pleasant warmth.

“Bye,” he said, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he ended the meeting.

When the session closed out, you began to think of ways to break your computer so you needed to talk to him again, but before you could pull a purposefully dumbass move like downloading a virus, a sticky note popped up on your desktop.

212 555 0179

Probably breaking work protocol, but text me sometime if you want.

~Elliot, just a Tech

“Oh my god!” you gasped, glancing up at your camera to make sure you really were disconnected, unable to shake that feeling like someone was watching you. You reached for your packet of stickers and placed a fresh one over the camera of your computer—better paranoid than sorry!

“Should I text him now? Is that desperate? Or is it mean to make him wait? Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you said, pacing around your small office space.

“Just a simple hello,” you decided. “First, gotta find my phone.”

After walking through your apartment, you found your phone in the kitchen, unsurprisingly because snacking had become your favorite hobby since the lockdown began. It was a blessing and curse to be able to eat whenever you wanted.

You took your cell back to your computer and smiled again at Elliot’s virtual Post-it note and typed in his number and contact information.

Hi, Elliot ☺️

Hi, Y/N. I hope your emoji means I didn’t creep you out

That’s what this one 😱 is for

Lol. Got it. I don’t really do the emoji thing. They kinda confuse me

Well then! Maybe that’s why we met? You know all the real techy stuff, and I know all the silly techy stuff. I can teach you to emoji like a boss 😎

Sunglasses = boss? Shades? Because bosses are shady?

🤣more like the shades mean you’re just too cool to care. Like a boss attitude. But actually 🤔that’s a really great analysis!

See? Confusing 👽

Confusing as in no one knows what’s really “out there” huh? Wow. I like your way of emojiying (new word, just go with it)

Lol really?

I do!

Can I ask you something?

Sure

Which emoji makes you think of me?

👀🦋💬🧸🧨 😰📱😃  

You stared at Elliot’s text, a goofy grin on your face as you tried to puzzle out his emoji story. The eyes, okay, but the rest was sort of a mystery.

Lol! I need to do this in pieces so you can tell me if I’m right or wrong

Ok

So, you saw me and thought I was nice? Pretty? Delicate?

Lol pretty

Ok. Thanks, btw. We talked and then, oh boy, this is tough. An exploding bear? Talking to me made you feel like you were going to die? This is not good.

🤣 Poor choice of the firecracker, clearly, but take them as two separate things. What do you associate with a teddy bear?

Um, childhood . . . safety? Protection?

Close! Warm, safe. You seem like a warm, safe person to talk to.

I am grinning like an idiot right now. You are so sweet. But on to the firecracker? Wait! Like sassy? Like I have a firecracker personality?

Yes! You’re funny in a forward, witty way. I guess the “She’s a real firecracker” thing might be a bit outdated.

I LOVE IT. I gotta keep going now. This part is easy, I think. Sooo even though you felt nervous, you took a chance and left me your cell, and now you know it was a good choice because you made me happy.

Almost—when you texted, it made ME happy. Hence 😃 and I have big eyes so I used the big eye happy face.

I.am.dying. That’s the cutest thing anyone has ever done over a text in the history of the world!

Lol. Is there a dramatic emoji because I don’t think anything I’ve ever done is that great.

This WAS great. I’m serious

Do you wanna maybe have dinner over Zoom? God how lame is that?

You respect the quarantine—not lame at all. I’d love to!

They let me unchain myself around 6. I’ll send you a link at 7?

Perfect! But what are we going to order? Shouldn’t we order from the same place to make it more authentic?

Do you like Chinese?

Who doesn’t?

You looked at the location Elliot sent and laughed with the irony that it was your favorite take-out spot.

How did you know that was my favorite take-out spot?

Lucky guess 🤷🏽‍♂️

Well, lucky Elliot who is just a Tech. I’ll “see” you at 7. If we order the same dinner, I’ll consider it a sign that we are meant to take over the world together by eliminating one dumbass’s access to a computer at a time 🦸‍♀️🦸‍♂️

Lol except that would leave me out of a job

We will find you something more meaningful, I promise

Make me a list 😃

You got it! Can’t wait for 7 ☺️

Me either

* * * * *

Tags: @ramimedley @clumsybookworm18 @r-ahh-mi @aboutthatmelancholystorm​ @alottanothing​ @sherlollydramoine​ @txmel​ @diasimar​ @hah0106​ @flipper-kisses​ @rami-malek-trash​ @ramisgirl512​ @dancing-disco-deacy​ @just-a-queen-bee​ @eightiesriot​

Maybe a Part II?