#um otherwise check the ao3 for triggers please !

[the--highlanders]

3. “I’ve waited for this.”

on ao3.

Red. Red and yellow and roughly torpedo-shaped, with a few modifications for warfare. Long-distance fuel supplies, ammunition tanks, that sort of thing. So, that meant a species with sufficient resources to make those modifications to an otherwise standard-issue fleet, and enough experience with war to know what to do. Red and yellow and torpedo-shaped and warlike – well, that let him pluck a few dozen more notes off the wall before him, which narrowed it down to something in the region of four hundred potential star systems. He was making progress. And once he knew who had attacked them, then he might be able to make a start on putting a stop to it.

Goodness, posing as a wartime advisor was difficult. Being an examiner was one thing – but here he was in hospital, and he was still expected to work.

Voices were drifting in through the closed door, and he paused, rather grateful for the distraction. One voice was unfamiliar to him, though it was bland and distant enough that he was sure it had to be the guard posted outside his room. They had not spoken a word to him, despite his best efforts. But the other voice was almost as familiar to him as his own, and starting to sound a little heated.

“But I’ve got tae see him,” Jamie was insisting. “You’ve got tae let me inside.”

“I’m terribly sorry, sir,” the guard said, not sounding particularly sorry at all. “But I have my orders. The minister is under protection. Nobody but the medical staff are to see him.”

“Och, ye wee -” A squeaking of heels against the floor, as if Jamie had spun around to march away. Then another squeak, like he had paced back in frustration, at a loss for anything else to do with himself. “I’m hardly going tae hurt him, am I?” The guard stammered out something inaudible. “Ye know who I am. He’d want tae see me.”

“I have my orders,” the guard repeated, though they sounded a little less certain now. “We’re not to take any risks.”

Even through the door, he could hear Jamie suck in a deep breath. The Doctor was almost surprised that he did not let out a scream. He might have done so himself, if their circumstances had been reversed. “Take any risks – I’m his husband!”

Something about those words froze the Doctor in place. Why was he so surprised to hear it? He had heard Jamie say it a thousand times before. Why should it feel so strange, when it was a simple fact, one that he had grown quite used to?

Then he remembered that Jamie was not as used to it as he was. In fact, he didn’t know it at all, anymore.

Could he have remembered? Perhaps – the shock of him being hurt, the worry of being apart – it might have triggered something. Human brains were odd like that, contorting themselves into all sorts of shapes to cope with stress. But it was hardly as if he had not been in danger before, and this last memory block had been a thorn in his side for so long. If it was going to unlock so simply, it would have done so long ago.

But if he was right about that, then why on earth would Jamie have said it?

Whatever the guard had made of it, they had evidently decided that it was not worth arguing with Jamie, because the key was turning in the lock. The Doctor whisked himself around hastily to face his wall of pinned notes, drawing his coat more tightly around his scratchy hospital-issue pyjamas. If only they had given him his real clothes back, then he might be more comfortable. But although they had been rather accommodating for everything else, they had been quite unwilling to budge in that regard.

You’re rambling, he told himself sternly. You must get a hold of yourself before -

He had not even finished the thought in his own head when that before evaporated. The door was thrust open, and Jamie came barging into the room, storming over to bundle him into a hug.

Behind them, the guard quietly clicked the door closed.

“Ah,” was all the Doctor could say, arching his back away from Jamie’s slightly shaky grip. He had not realised quite how bruised he still was around the ribcage until Jamie had grabbed hold of him. “Ah – ah. Jamie.”

“What were ye thinkin’,” Jamie mumbled into his shoulder. “Givin’ me a scare like that.”

“Jamie,” the Doctor said again. “I’m, ah – rather pleased to see you – but I’m afraid you’re hurting me.”

Jamie sprang back, his hands still clutching at the Doctor’s shoulders. “Sorry.” His gaze swept up and down the Doctor, drinking in the sight of him. Checking him over, perhaps, or just reassuring himself that he was real. “But I’ve been worried sick about ye.”

“Well, I’m terribly sorry to have worried you. But I really had no alternative, you know.”

The look Jamie gave him was blisteringly sceptical. “The buildin’ was on fire!”

“And I had to retrieve those scans. Besides, I wasn’t burnt. Just knocked around a little.” The Doctor’s eyes snagged on a particular note as he gestured up to his wall, and he pulled himself away from Jamie to tug its pin free. It drifted down to the floor slowly, rocking back and forth as it went, until it landed amongst its brethren that littered the ground. Dropping the pin into a bowl with its fellows, the Doctor wandered back to take Jamie loosely by the wrists. “But now I have them, I can get to work on figuring out who we’re dealing with.” Jamie gave a nondescript little mumble. “Now – Jamie -” What was the right thing to say here? Should he say anything at all? “How did you manage to get inside?”

“Och, well -” He shouldn’t have said anything. Jamie was blushing terribly now. “I might’ve, um – I might’ve told them we were married.

“Yes. Yes, I thought I heard right.” Jamie was pulling away, and the Doctor longed to tighten his grip on his wrists and keep him there, but he forced himself to let him slip away. Best not to frighten him, he told himself, if he really hadn’t remembered. Or even if he had. It might all be new and raw. “Now, why would you say a thing like that, hm?”

“Dunno.” A shrug. Hardly the response he had been hoping for. “Just jumped into my head, that’s all. Thought they might let me in.” He had not thought Jamie could turn any redder, but somehow he managed it. “Seems to have worked alright. Only – I didnae really think about it.”

“Think about it?”

“Aye, well – we’re gonnae have to pretend tae be married now, aren’t we?”

Pretend.

He had never dreamt that one word could hurt so much.

So Jamie still could not remember, then. He really had no idea that his neat little ruse struck right at the truth. Or – alarmingly close to it, anyway. Could you really be married to someone, the Doctor thought, if they had no memory of it, and no idea that it had happened?

Not that philosophical questions were of any use. It was an ethical question, now. Could he in good faith let Jamie carry on with this little charade, knowing that it would hold a much greater significance for him? After all, Jamie had never shown even the slightest interest in him since the Time Lords had allowed them to be together again. He had wondered, at times, whether this was their revenge for the pest he had made of himself over the years. Or some fresh infliction of their regressive ideas about what was proper. It was an awfully specific block, after all, ranging over several years and filtering through memories that Jamie otherwise recalled perfectly. No matter the reason, everything that had been between them before was gone now, broken by their time apart. He had mourned for it – still mourned for it, if he was honest, but he had learned to live with it, even if it hurt. He had no choice. For all he knew, Jamie might never remember what they had been to each other for all that time.

Could he do it, then? Allow Jamie to go on pretending, while he knew it was – had been – entirely real?

It’s innocent enough, the selfish part of him was saying. And oh, how tempting that was to believe. What’s the harm in saying you’re married? It’s just words. The assignment only lasts for another week. You’ll be out of there soon, and with no harm done.

That was true, he supposed. They could forget all about it as soon as they were done, or laugh it off as a silly little mishap.

Or maybe, another part of him whispered, he’ll remember. Maybe this is what he needs to break the barrier. Acting out the truth.

Wouldn’t he like to believe that.

“Doctor?” Jamie was saying. “You’re no’ upset about it, are ye? I mean – I can go an’ tell the guard I was lyin’, I suppose, but I don’t know what they’d make of it -”

There was nothing to it, he supposed. Just words, as he had told himself before. If they should happen to hold hands or put their arms around each other in front of others, just to drive the lie home – well, it was hardly as if they didn’t do that anyway. There was no difference, really. And if he let Jamie take the lead, then it would all be on his terms. Nothing to worry about.

Except his own heartbreak. Could he really bear pretending to be Jamie’s husband, knowing that he was Jamie’s husband, and knowing that Jamie didn’t really love him back anymore? Surely it was too much for anyone to handle. And he had two hearts to break, not just one.

“Of course not,” he said at last. “You had to say something. And, ah – I did want to see you. I do want to see you. I suspect it may come in rather useful, you being able to come and go as you please.”

There was something odd in Jamie’s expression, something he could not read no matter how hard he tried. “Good,” was all he said – and then he leaned in and kissed the Doctor.

He could remember, quite clearly, the moment when Jamie had kissed him for the first time. Called him daft and leaned in and kissed him, and short-circuited his brain rather efficiently to boot. The effect was much the same this time, he thought dimly. Jamie kissed him just as he used to, softly, slowly, like he thought he might break. Idly, he reached one hand up to rub his thumb through the short hair at the back of Jamie’s neck, just where he knew he liked it. Funny, really, how little details could stick around in your memory for so long.

His brain was starting to recover now, whirring into action until it was working so fast that he was sure steam must be shooting out of his ears. Had Jamie remembered? Was this his way of saying that he remembered? No, Jamie was not one for messing around like this. He wore his heart too much on his sleeve. If he remembered, then he would have been honest about it. But then why else would he have kissed him?

Jamie pulled back first – no respiratory bypass system, the Doctor reminded himself, of course. His brain might have been working, but his body was mercifully still too shocked to automatically lean in and kiss Jamie again, no matter how much he would have liked to. No need to overwhelm him. “I’ve been waiting,” he murmured. “For – this.” His voice hitched on the last word. “For so long.”

It took him a moment to realise that Jamie had spoken at the same time, his voice breathless and his cheeks pink.

“Sorry,” he had said. “I thought – if we’re going tae – we ought tae get used to -”

 Oh.

“Oh,” he said. He could only hope… Had Jamie heard? Could he pass his words off as meaning something else? You’ve really gone and dug your own grave now. “Oh, Jamie, I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t realise you -”

“I’m sorry.” Jamie was still talking over him, his voice shaky, his face well and truly red now. “I thought – I must’ve been wrong -”

“I don’t think I realised -”

“I thought ye – och, I don’t know what I thought -”

“Jamie.” The Doctor settled his hands on Jamie’s shoulders. He did not immediately pull away, at least. That was a start. “What on earth are you apologising for?”

“I thought – ye might���ve -” Jamie hung his head. “Just the way ye  - I thought maybe ye… meant it for real.” The last few words came out in one hurried mumble, all running into each other. “But obviously ye didn’t, so -”

The Doctor frowned. “Meant what?”

“I don’t know!” Jamie cried, loud enough that the Doctor was sure the guard outside would be staring at the door, wondering what was going on. “Look – I got it wrong, alright. It’s fine.”

He does remember, the Doctor realised. And he doesn’t think I still love him. It was a horrifying, heart-shattering thought. That Jamie could think he could stop loving him… Well, it was unthinkable. It had been a long time since Jamie had been so doubtful of himself. But then again, so much had changed. And how should Jamie have known any different?

“Jamie,” he said, as firmly as he could. Jamie was trying to break away from him again, so he clamped his hands over his shoulders, holding him in place. “Jamie, I – I do love you. Of course I do. And I’m terribly sorry if I’ve made you doubt that, lately, but I didn’t want to, ah – push any boundaries, I wasn’t sure if -”

Jamie’s head raised, just a little. “Do ye mean that? You’re no’ just – pretendin’?”

“Of course I’m not.”

“Aye.” Jamie drew in a deep, unsteady breath. “Aye, alright.” Slowly but surely, he broke into a grin, not quite shy enough to hide his elation. “Movin’ a bit fast, then, aren’t we?”

The Doctor tilted his head. “A bit fast?’

“Well, ye know.” Jamie shrugged. “I’ve kissed ye once, an’ now here ye are sayin’ that ye love me, an’ we’re goin’ around sayin’ that we’re married.”

Ah.

Scratch the previous theory, then.

Jamie didn’t remember. Not at all. Not even the tiniest bit.

And yet there they were, about to start from scratch. But how could they, really, when he knew everything, and Jamie knew nothing? Should he tell him? Which would hurt Jamie less – keeping the secret, or telling it?

Jamie moved in to kiss him again, still slow, still soft, but smiling against his lips this time. Try as he might, he could not get himself to smile back. He ought to have been as rapturous as Jamie was. He ought to have been skipping all over the room, shouting for joy. He had missed this so terribly, missed the way Jamie loved him. Like one of the lochs back in his home, so wide and so deep and so full.

Letting his fingers trail up to the back of Jamie’s neck again, he wondered if he should pretend not to know anything. Jamie would grow suspicious, if he seemed overly familiar with him. Would it all come spilling out, messy and uncontrollable? Could he really carry on like this? Maybe he ought to put a stop to it now, nip it in the bud and keep things simple. All the hurt could stay on his side, if he was just brave.

He had never been particularly brave, though. Not like Jamie was. Yes, he had run into a burning building a few days ago, knowing it would collapse around him – but that had been stupidity, not bravery. He was a coward through and through, and he knew it well. A selfish coward.

Jamie’s hands had settled over his waist, heavy and comfortable, like they had been moulded into shape just so they could fit in that exact spot. The feeling was so familiar that he could almost pretend none of this memory block business existed. Things were exactly as they always had been. But it was funny, really, that there was no clumsiness about either of them. He had expected a little on his own part, if only from a lack of practice, though he was hardly surprised that he had fallen so easily back into the rhythm of it. Jamie, though… Jamie was kissing him like they had never been apart at all. Exactly as he had on the day they had lost each other, not at all like he had on that first day, for that first kiss.

His pyjama shirt was being pushed up on one side, Jamie’s fingers slowly working their way beneath it. An idle little motion. Not seeking anything, just clearing the way to rub little patterns on his skin. It had been a circle, all those years ago, then turned into a figure of eight after a few months, like Jamie had realised that the motion flowed more smoothly. Back and forth, back and forth. And now here he was again, tracing out not a circle but a figure of eight. As if he had already figured it out. As if he remembered.

Funny, really, how little details could stick around in your memory for so long. Even against all the odds.

Jamie was still smiling as he kissed him, and for the first time, the Doctor smiled back.

[scullysexual]

Time Can Heal (6/ )

Season Two | Abduction Arc | Canon Divergence | Angst |

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | AO3 |

Mulder realises his quest for the truth costs too much.

Tagging: @today-in-fic @bevh78 @mypanicface @weseeusinthefall 

[In which it is time to intervene]

- - - 

When the phone rings, Dana isn’t in the mood to answer it. It was late anyway, past 10:00 when she last looked at the clock, the only other person who used to call her this late doesn’t bother with her at all anymore.

If she had the courage to wear an elastic band around her wrist she would snap it against her wrist. Thoughts of Mulder were bad and she was trying to never go there, it only made her miserable.

The phone goes to voicemail but no message is left, instead the caller tries calling again.

Only then does Dana pick it up, huffing as she does so, apparently the person on the other end doesn’t understand she’s not in the mood to talk.

“Dana, hi. What are you still doing awake?”

It’s her mother and immediately it has Dana feeling guilty at wanting her to go away.

“Um…just catching up on some work.”

It was a lie, there was no work to be seen, she makes sure to keep that in the office now.

She was doing nothing actually, nothing but sitting on her couch. There were thoughts to turn the TV on but she hadn’t quite acquired the energy to press buttons on the remote.

“I just wanted to check in with you,” her mother says on the other end. “Is everything okay? You haven’t called in a while.”

Dana used to call her mother every weekend (if she was home). She hadn’t exactly stopped doing that but lately it had been using to much energy to talk and pretend everything was okay when it really, really wasn’t. One look around her apartment would tell her that; take-out containers everything, dishes piling up in the sink, two weeks’ worth of laundry still to be done. She couldn’t hide behind the excuse of ‘too much work’, there was never too much, not anymore, she just did not want to do it.

Maybe part of it was in rebellion. Mulder had made her apartment all nice and pretty for her to return to so it was her job to make it a mess, to erase any notion that he was ever here.

There she was thinking about Mulder again.

“I’m good,” Dana says. “I’ve just been busy.” There’s another lie. She was getting as good as Mulder’s conspirators.

“Good,” Maggie says though she sounds a little off. “I was thinking of coming around on the weekend. Will you be home?”

Dana tries not to audibly sigh. Her mother coming around would mean she would need to clean her apartment otherwise Maggie will definitely know something is amiss.

Dana’s not even sure why she’s hiding it from her mother exactly.

“It’s okay,” Dana says. “I’ll come round to you.” Yes, that’s better. She can shut the door on her apartment and nobody has to know anything more.

“It’s really no bother me coming—”

“Mom, it’s fine,” Dana says, cutting her mother off. “I’ll go to you.” Her tone leaves no arguments.

“Well, I’ll see you on Saturday then.”

“See you Saturday.”

She hangs up, placing the phone back in its place then looks at it. Mulder got her that, he replaced her last one. Another reminder of Mulder. Maybe she should get rid of it.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Talking was never one of Dana’s strongest points. She kept things bottled up and locked in a box at the back of her brain. Her problems were her own, it was nobody else job to deal with them.

But then somebody invented the therapist profession and then it did become somebody’s job.

“I heard you were placed in a new department,” Karen- you can call me Karen, there’s no need for formalities here, Dana- tells her. “How’s that working for you?”

Horrible, Dana thinks.

Instead she says. “It’s okay. It’s not that different from the X-Files.”

Karen smiles, nodding.

They fall silent, Dana choosing to look around the office. A bookshelf, some personal items on the shelves, Karen Kosseff’s diploma sitting nicely in a picture frame hanging off the wall. Dana hadn’t put her up when she had an office in Quantico, she thought about it but decided against it, she doesn’t actually know why.

“What about your new co-workers?” Karen asks. “Are they treating you fairly?”

Of course not. Haven’t you heard, I’m Mrs Spooky.

Instead Dana shrugs. “I guess they’re treating me as they would any newbie.”

Karen nods again, writes something down in her notepad.

Dana sighs, looking towards the clock on the wall. How long was this session supposed to be again?

Karen follows her eyeline.

“Do you have somewhere else you need to be?”

Caught off guard and feeling guilty, Dana answers. “No, it’s just…”

Karen nods, understanding. “We can stop here if that’s what you want. Pick off next Wednesday.”

It’s mandatory these sessions be an hour long but Karen is giving her an out.

So Dana takes it. She nods, Karen smiles, and Dana leaves hoping next Wednesday never comes.

.:.:.:.:.:.

“Where have you been?”

Hello to you too, Davis.

“I had something to do.”

His feet are on her desk. She looks at them pointedly but Davis is too dumb to realise.

“Don’t you have your own desk to put your feet on, Davis?”

He sighs like it’s the biggest thing she could ask of him.

“Alright. You don’t need to be such a bitch about it.” He moves his feet, deliberately knocking her pot of pens over. Dana glares at him as she moves to pick it up.

“Fuller wants you in his office,” he tells her.

“What for?” she asks, half intrigued, half concerned.

“I don’t know, I’m not your fucking messenger.”

She rolls her eyes, mutters asshole under her breath.

“Did you say something?” Davis asks.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” she answers making her way to Fuller’s office. She knocks on the door.

“Come in.” She opens the door. “Took your time,” Fuller says upon seeing her.

Dana shuts the door and sits down in one of the chairs.

“Sorry, I had a meeting.”

Fuller makes some noise.

“Well, it’s your lucky day,” he tells her. “You’re going on your first field trip with VCS.”

This early, Dana wonders. It’s been a month, she thought they would give her more time.

“Why me?” she asks.

“You were requested. Consider it part of your probation.”

“Where am I going?”

“Minneapolis,” Fuller says smiling. “You won’t be going alone, however. Davis will go with you.”

She tries not to audibly groan, tries not to show that she is in any way dissatisfied with that.

“Is there nobody else?” she tries instead.

“He’s a senior agent, you’re not. Not here, at least. You’ll need someone to guide you.”

Guide me. Like I haven’t done this before.

“There are plenty of senior agents. Why does it have to be him?”

Fuller sighs and leans forward. “It’s him because I said it’s him. Is that alright with you?”

She laces her fingers together beneath the table, resists the urge to push his face away.

“Yes, sir.”

Fuller smiles. “Good.” He leans back in the chair. “You leave Monday. Please let Davis know.”

Dana gets up from the chair and leaves the office.

“You been fired yet?” Davis asks pretending to do some work.

“We’re going to Minneapolis,” Dana responds.

Davis smiles brightly. “Looks like we’re about to be partners, sweetheart.”

Out of all the agents in this goddamn department why did it have to be him?

.:.:.:.:.

A file is placed down on his desk, delivered personally by Cavanagh himself.

Mulder looks at the file then at Cavanagh.

“What’s this?” he asks.

“I got a call from your FBI building. Somebody higher up asking if I had any cases that could do with some help and I was told to put you on the case,” Cavanagh explains to him.

Mulder opens the file up. His breath catches in his throat momentarily at the crime scene photograph that stares up at him. An unearthed grave and a mutilated body. Mulder regains his posture and closes the file.

“Not a pretty sight,” Cavanagh says with a grimace. “Anyway, people from VCS are coming up on Monday.”

“Do you know who they are?”

“Didn’t mention any names. Bocks will work on it with you.”

At the mention of his name, Bocks swivels over. He takes the file as Cavanagh walks back to his office.

VCS, Mulder thinks with a grump. I swear to god if it’s Colton…

VCS was the most logical department to assist them. Mulder had witnessed this type of thing before. They were usually good cases, gruesome, but interesting. Maybe it was a chance for Mulder to do some decent profiling, stretch those muscles again.

“Whoa,” says Bocks who is now looking at the photos. “Think I’m gonna give MUFON a call.”

Mulder frowns, turning to his partner. “Why?”

The phone in his hand, Bocks explains. “Looks like the literature, doesn’t it?”

“The literature?”

A wary glance towards the office, lowering his voice.

“The hair and nails have been cut away, like in the cattle mutilations.”

Mulder looks at the photograph. He guesses he can see why Bocks has made that leap but he shakes his head.

“Aliens didn’t do this.”

“Well, how can you be so sure?”

Mulder picks on the photographs up. He knows the work of a very disturbed person when he sees one.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

She’s just about finished packing when there’s a knock at her door.

Spying her gun on the bed, Dana picks it up and cautiously moves towards the door. The gun beside her but her fingers ready on the trigger, she looks through the peep hole.

Relief spreads through her when she sees her mother. Removing her fingers from the trigger, she unlocks the door, pulling back the chain.

“Hi, Mom,” she says.

“Hi.” Maggie smiles, her smile leaves her when her eyes fall to the gun in Dana’s hand. “Why are you holding your gun?”

Dana looks down at it to, moving it around like she’s never seen it before.

“Um…I was just getting ready to pack it,” she answers. She opens the door more, allowing her mother entry, and walks back over to her bedroom where a suitcase lies on her bed.

Maggie follows, hanging in the doorway as Dana begins busying herself with packing the last few things.

“You didn’t come over yesterday.”

Shit. Dana pauses. She had forgotten all about that.

“I was going to call but you’ve seemed off lately so I decided I’d see you in person.”

“I’m sorry,” Dana apologises. “I forgot.” Not a complete lie. “They’re sending me to Minnesota, I was catching up on the case.” A lie. They wouldn’t get information on the case until they arrived.

“I see,” Maggie says. “Is it not too soon for you to be out in the field?”

It’s been a month. Two if you include from when she came out of her coma.

“They think I’m ready.”

“Do you think you’re ready?”

Dana has thought about that a lot since she was assigned this case. She came to the conclusion last night that yes, she does feel ready. A change of scenery might be good for her.

“I think so.”

Maggie smiles. “Well, I’m glad to hear.” She goes to move away from the doorway but stops. Dana waits wondering what else her mother has to say.

“Do you know when you’ll be back?”

Dana shakes her head.

“Well, I was hoping you would come to church with me when you got back.”

Church, Dana thinks with a heaviness in her chest. Her cross still sits against her skin. After wearing it for fifteen years she forgets it there but there are some moments were it is heavy against her chest. Suddenly cold with the reminder that you missed mass last Sunday or you haven’t been in a while, maybe you should go?

It became a habit to ignore her faith whenever she knew she wasn’t doing so good. Her strengths came from herself not from others or a religion. Mostly, she was scared she would become dependent upon it, so she just ignored it all together. It was easier that way, safer.

“Yeah, maybe,” Dana says nodding because maybe if she says it aloud to someone she might actually follow through with it.

“Well, I’ll let you get on with your packing,” Maggie says, moving away from the door now.

Dana looks at her suitcase and at the clock. She was done packing, there was still some time left.

“Stay for a bit,” she tells her mother. Her apartment was finally clean. 3am this morning with a sudden burst of motivation. Turns out it wasn’t that difficult after all.

Dana motions for her mother to sit down.

“Do you want something to drink?”

“Tea, please.”

Dana does that, putting the kettle on the stove and tries not to think of how many lies she’s just told.

[searchingwardrobes]

Chapter One of my Captain Swan Twister AU (assuming everyone doesn’t hate me for the prologue)

Rating: T

Trigger warning: major character deaths

You can read the prologue here Prologue Ao3

18 years later

It was a gorgeous spring day; at least most would think so. But Emma Swan, with a master’s degree in atmospheric sciences and meteorology, could see trouble brewing. It was subtle; the lack of a breeze on an otherwise pleasant day, the greenish-gray tinge of sky off in the distance, and the rumble of thunder so many miles away, only people attuned to it would notice.

But Emma wasn’t concerned with the weather. She was concerned with the man chasing it. Graham parked his Dodge pickup along the side of the rural Oklahoma road. He glanced over at her with a tentative smile, and she reached over to squeeze his hand reassuringly. She looked out the windshield at the beat up, brown 73 Ford sitting in front of her. Seeing it again flooded her with memories she wasn’t expecting. To push them back, she reminded herself of the past month and how many phone calls Killian had ignored. Resolute and sufficiently pissed, she opened the door of Graham’s cab and jumped to the ground. She clenched her fists as she marched across the sparse grass.

A cylindrical machine sat in the back of the truck, a machine Emma knew well, down to the circuit boards and wiring. Killian’s dark head popped up from behind it. He glanced her way, his blue eyes simultaneously widening and darkening. He then purposefully looked away.

“Hey, Rubes,” he yelled, “come check out the antenna. It seems secure, but last time we didn’t get decent connection.”

Emma put her hands on her hips and scowled up at him. “Don’t ignore me, Killian Jones!”

He took a step towards the open tailgate, his jaw clenching, but before he could say anything, a squeal pierced the air.

“Emma!” Ruby shrieked, and the next thing Emma knew, she was practically being tackled by the brunette. “I can’t believe you’re here! It’s been, what? Three years? You’ve got to go see Granny. We’ve missed you!”

Emma felt a twinge of guilt even though Ruby was smiling brightly without a hint of anger in her voice. “I know.” She glanced behind her at Killian. “I’m hoping things can be different now.” She stepped around Ruby to come closer to the truck. “If this stubborn asshole will actually have a conversation with me.”

Killian’s eyes sparked with anger, and Emma wondered if this whole thing was a mistake. She glanced behind her, catching Graham’s eye as Killian jumped down from the truck. He walked across the grass towards them, and she raised her hand surreptitiously. Killian would never hurt her, she knew this. But Graham didn’t, and Killian’s emotions could be volatile. The last thing she wanted was an altercation between the two of them.

“Being pissed about me ignoring you is a bit hypocritical, don’t you think?” Killian spat, getting into her personal space like he always did.

Emma glanced away, gnawing at the inside of her cheek. The comment was justified, she knew that. Especially since he didn’t have all the facts.

“I . . . had my reasons.”

“So why are you back?” He demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I . . . uh, think I’ll check on that antenna,” Ruby muttered, scrambling into the bed of the truck.

Graham came up then, placing an encouraging hand to the small of Emma’s back. She was pretty sure Killian would interpret it as a possessive gesture. She glanced up, her heart sinking as she saw Killian’s gaze swing between her and Graham.

She took a deep breath, “Killian, this is Graham. We’re . . . getting married.”

Killian blinked, his head recoiling slightly at her words. Then his chest rose and fell rapidly as he hissed through clenched teeth, “So that’s why you’re here? To rub this in my face?”

“No,” Emma said, trying to rein in her own emotions. They had always fed off each other, joy, sadness, anger, but today she had to stay calm. “But there are . . . complications that I need to discuss with you. If you had answered your damn phone, or returned my calls, I wouldn’t have had to –“

“Seriously?” Killian cut her off with a sharp laugh. “What complications? We were never married, Swan, or have you forgotten the day you turned down my proposal?” He tilted his head as he gave Graham a vicious stare. “Let me warn you, she runs.”

The words cut Emma deep. Damn him, he knew just what buttons to push.

“I’m just here as emotional support for Emma,” Graham explained, taking a step away from her side. Emma knew it was his way of diffusing the situation and in no way meant he wasn’t one hundred percent behind her. His calm in the midst of chaos was what made him such a wonderful detective with the Atlanta PD, and Emma had to admit, that contrast with Killian’s mercurial personality had been a large part of the man’s appeal.

“Hey, Killian,” another voice called. This one came from the camper parked perpendicular to the road next to Killian’s old truck. The red head poking her head out of its screen door gasped when she saw Emma. She screamed louder than Ruby had as she raced to embrace Emma.

“Ariel,” Emma laughed, “you’re still chasing storms with this motely crew?”

Ariel shook her head, laughing as well. She gave Killian a playful shrug. “With you gone, someone’s got to keep this guy’s head on straight.” She and Killian immediately blushed, glancing away from one another, and Emma wondered briefly what that was all about.

“Ariel is the data analyzer for the team,” Emma explained to Graham. He smiled and reached out to shake her hand. Ariel glanced at Emma with a question in her eyes. “And Ariel, this is Graham, my, um, fiancé.”

“Oh,” Ariel said, her voice hesitant, and there was that awkward glance shared with Killian again. She shuffled her feet and brushed her hair off her shoulder after releasing Graham’s hand. “Um, so Killian, there’s a storm brewing over in Rush Springs. Looks like a good one.”

“Shit,” Killian swore, jumping back up into the bed of the truck, “Ruby, please tell me you’ve got that antenna working.”

“She’s all ready to go, boss,” Ruby assured him, slapping the top of the giant tin can.

“Dorothy II?” Graham noted. “I mean, I get it, but . . . I thought you hated that book?”

Killian finished tinkering with the controls on Dorothy II, then grinned down at her and Graham. “We both do, but nothing from Peter Pan really fits storm chasing.”

Emma couldn’t help sharing a tiny half smile with him. She remembered so many nights of him reading to her under the covers with a flashlight, both of them imagining what it would be like, as a lost boy and a lost girl, to live on a magical island. Half the time Granny would catch him in her room, and drag him out by the elbow, muttering about how they were much too old at 12 and 10 to be sharing a bed. Heat flooded Emma’s cheeks as her mind tripped forward to when Granny caught him in her room again four years later. Emma shook her head, cursing herself. It made sense at fourteen to be mortified caught making out with your boyfriend. She was a grown woman now who shouldn’t be feeling this heat deep in her core over long buried memories. She was young then, her feelings for Killian so pure and uncomplicated. So much had changed since then.

Killian jumped over the side of the truck and jumped into the cab. Emma dashed over, grabbing the edge of the open window with both hands.

“This isn’t over, Killian. We need to talk.”

“You had three years to talk, Emma. How many of my calls did you ignore when you left?” he glanced down at the diamond ring on her left hand. “And here all this time I thought you were just afraid to commit.”

He turned away from her, turning the key in the ignition. It made that clicking sound Emma remembered it making on a regular basis before finally starting. But this time, Killian tried it multiple times, to know avail.

“Come on!” Killian growled in frustration, smacking the steering wheel with the palm of his hand.

“Uh boss, we gotta get moving,” the plump, bearded man in the driver’s seat of the camper called out through his open window. When he saw Emma, his eyes brightened. “Emma! It’s great to see you! We’ve all –“

“Smee!” Killian barked as he jumped from the truck, slamming the door, “We don’t really have time to shoot the breeze, mate.”

“R-right, boss,” Smee apologized, fiddling with the red knit cap perched on his head. Emma smiled at the nervous man. Some things never changed.

Killian jumped up in the bed of the truck and started sliding Dorothy II closer to the tailgate. “You want to talk, Swan?” he said to her. “Let me use that shiny truck over there to transport Dot, and we’ll talk.”

Emma crossed her arms over her chest as she stared at up at him. She let out a deep sigh, then scrambled up with him. Graham rushed over to the truck, his face starting to go pale.

“You can’t be serious!” he exclaimed.

“It’ll be fine, Graham, really,” she grunted as they slid the aluminum machine to the edge of the tailgate. It was much lighter than Dorothy I, and was actually more cumbersome than heavy, but they didn’t want to risk damaging it before it could be transported to the sight of the storm.

“Fine?” Graham argued. “You’re talking about chasing a tornado, Emma! In my truck!”

She helped Killian lower Dorothy II from the truck then they slowly made their way to the back of Graham’s. Once they had shut the tailgate, Emma turned to her fiancé, grasping both his hands in hers. “Can you trust me, please? The crew has to take every opportunity to get Dot airborne.”

“This is tornado alley . . . “ Graham said, trailing off.

“If you’re scared, mate, you can stay behind in the camper.” Killian’s cocky grin was definitely a challenge.

Graham rose to it, literally puffing out his chest. “Fine,” he muttered, “just tell me what to do.”

Emma snatched the keys out of his hands. “Someone with experience needs to drive, babe.”

As the three of them piled into the truck, Emma’s fiancé sandwiched between her and her ex, Graham muttered, “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

Frankly, Emma couldn’t either.

@shipsxahoy @tiganasummertree @artistic-writer @kmomof4 @hollyethecurious @thejacketandthehook @shady-swan-jones @bethacaciakay @galadriel26 @teamhook @cat-sophia @coliferoncer @allofdafandoms-blog @pocket-anon @dassala @branlovesouat @flslp87 @snowbellewells @thislassishooked @yayimallamaagain

[yandereshit]

Saeran x MC: the error. [Prologue]

Hi there! A bit of quite important information before we start.

This story takes place during and after the Another Story (V's route), which makes it filled with spoilers from the very beginning. If you're not willing to read such content, please, just don't. This story won't disappear from Tumblr. Save it, take your time going through the route, and then come back. It's for your own satisfaction ^_^

But if you didn't go through that route and don't really care about the spoilers you get, it'd be the best for you to at least briefly check the plot, otherwise - especially at the beginning - you may get easily confused!

Warning! Potentially triggering themes. NSFW chapters will be tagged.

Read on Ao3 Read on Wattpad

the error. - masterlist

Due to potential spoilers, the chapter is hidden under the read more feature.

„It’s you.

You called to ask how I was doing… I was cleaning up the surrounding areas.

You know… I cannot forget the times I spent with you.

All the times I spent with you… were so precious. I even questioned whether it’s alright for me to be that happy.

For some reason my eyes keep watering…

Funny… I’m really happy right now…

I’m so happy to listen to your voice… but why?

Did you know that you have an unique habit when you talk?

Looks like you didn’t know.

Um… I won’t tell you. If I tell you… I feel like your habit only I knew about… will disappear.

I’ll keep this my secret forever, this habit even you didn’t know.

Anyway, I’m… I really liked it… Talking with you and learning about you one by one.

Whenever I learned more about you… No, whenever you talked to me, my heart raced.

At first, I didn’t know what was happening to me because this never happened before. My heart raced, and I was so happy I thought I could die… You taught me what this all means, what it means to feel the flutter inside.

And as I got to know you day by day…

I… I think I’ve come to treasure you in my heart.

You know, I really like you. I really really like you a lot…

You showed a whole new world to me.

My world has infinitely widened from the small attic-like world I lived in by meeting you.

Thank you. Thank you…

You’re such a warm person… I really wanted to be happy with you…

I didn’t have the courage till the last minute… I was really glad when you called. Thank you.

I wanted to tell you that.

Thank you… I love you.”

 The night was cold back then. You were shivering, the silence disturbed by  soft noise the machines next to you made, the ones that were supposed to make sure the person laying in the bed was stable.

V was safe, that you were sure of. He was peaceful, laying here, not bothered by anything. The whole world seemed so far away from him. All that happened all along. He looked as if he forgot about it already, drowned in the world of his own.

Your hands trembled when you dialed the same number for the second time. Then the third, the fourth.

Nothing.

The bad feeling never left you, not even for a while.

And it was only worse when, in the morning, Seven’s words confirmed your worst predictions.

„So… everything ended well, right?” Zen smiled softly, glancing at the ceiling. After all the stress he went through, RFA could finally see him at ease.

“Guess so…” Yoosung mumbled, staring down at the beer Zen bought to cheer everyone up.

V had been released from the hospital fairly quickly and everyone decided to chill out together, now that everything seemed fine.

You, V, Zen, Yoosung, Jumin and Jaehee.                              

Zen was the most relieved about all the things. V didn’t speak much, he was obviously still tired and no one let him even stand up on his own yet. Yoosung was a bit quiet, but tried to joke along. Jumin and Jaehee were exhausted, but both of them seemed the most like usual. The special unit didn’t need all the attention anymore. Everyone deserved some rest and they finally got it.

Only your thoughts were clouded, as you sat in the middle of the room, staring at the TV as if the movie actually absorbed you.

It didn’t and you didn’t even try to lie to yourself.

“Ah, we should have more meetings like this… Even trust fund kid isn’t as annoying as usual when he’s tired” Zen smirked. His attitude was starting to get on your nerves, but you knew he wasn’t doing it on purpose. It was only natural though… to be annoyed by people who didn’t understand you, right?

“You talk a lot as for someone who didn’t even move a finger to guarantee the RFA’s safety” Jumin answered, crossing his arms, but not sparing him even a single glance, his eyes fixated on the screen.

“Hey, I took care of Yoosung…! You can’t imagine how bothersome he was…” he sighed tiredly.

“Zen…! I’m not a kid, you know…” Yoosung whined quietly. “You say it as if you were babysitting me!”

“Come on, it was almost like babysitting… You looked as if you were about to do something incredibly stupid, so I had to watch over you all the time~”

“If you’re so exhausted by a mere few days of babysitting, I’m not surprised you chose a career that doesn’t require you to get married” Jumin said with a soft smirk that made Jaehee get amazingly pale in less than a second.

“Taking care of a baby is not an easy duty, Mr. Han…”

“Guys, but I’m not a baby, stop it already!”

Everyone laughed, except for Yoosung, who pouted and turned away from them. It seemed as if they just needed it. To laugh a bit, to chill out, to forget about what just happened.

Even V seemed as if he already didn’t think about it anymore. About Ray, about Rika, about the Mint Eye. How come it was so easy for him to just throw it aside?

You tried to be mad. Your thoughts were clear: he was the only person that could be blamed for what happened now, ever since Rika ended in the mental hospital as she clearly wasn’t in her right mind anymore. And still, V seemed to… get out of it the most comfortable way possible, well, aside from his physical injuries.

You desperately felt as if you needed someone to blame.

And yet… no matter how much you thought about it, you could only blame yourself.

For not being there. For not realizing earlier.

You couldn’t be cheerful, careless, act as if nothing happened. Not after what you heard. The last words still echoed in your head.

I love you.

The overwhelming tension you felt ever since you escaped with V, all of it suddenly wrapped around you tightly, making you feel as if you were about to suffocate.

The high walls of sorrow, trapping you inside, crushing you more and more with every passing second.

Everyone could see you getting worse. No one knew how to help you. Because no one, except for V, knew what was the reason of your state. Others probably thought you just needed to somehow relieve all the stress, everyone would be overwhelmed after what you came through in such a short amount of time, right?

But it was not the case. V knew only part of the truth. All he knew was that someone died, and that you were somehow attached to that person.

He wasn’t there when you heard that voice: the voice filled with sorrow, overwhelming sadness. Voice of the person who was completely broken, the person who’s been left by everyone else. V was sleeping, not even thinking about it, not realizing the pain you were going through, the pain way worse than the physical one he had to experience.

And you also weren’t where you were supposed to be. Not there, in the Mint Eye, where your heart stayed even after you ran away. Maybe if you didn’t leave, or maybe if you came back, or even just tried to come back, telling him to go and take you away… Maybe it’d be different. Maybe he wouldn’t…

Or would it be the end of the both of you?

Was it… what should have happened?

You couldn’t know it.

Overwhelming helplessness made a single tear escape the corner of your eye, your head hurting from all the crying you went through so far. It’s been only three days and you couldn’t stop grieving.

You felt as if you’d never be able to.

His eyes were focused on the screen. Nothing could disturb him as his fingers tapped the keyboard in a regular, almost boring way. The tapping echoed through the room along with the shuffling of aluminum bags being picked up and tossed into a trashcan.

“How come you make such horrible mess even when you don’t move away from your computer…?” the quiet murmur almost reached his ears, but he was too focused to notice it anyway.

The redhead stared at the screen as the satellite photoshoots appeared and for a few seconds, there was such silence surrounding them that Vanderwood was genuinely curious if the agent didn’t faint in the meanwhile. It was the third day since he started working and he didn’t get any sleep in this time. His only friend was this junk food that made him look like a zombie, but at least be productive.

And he didn’t even touch the actual work he had to do, Vanderwood sighed.

Seven didn’t look good lately. Ever since the mysterious explosion, when he almost barged into the burning residence, he tried to restore all the information from all the sources he could find. The files saved on computers in there were mostly destroyed, but he worked on what he could find.

And it seemed as if everything he found was somehow suspicious.

Vanderwood didn’t question it.

“This…”

Seven’s eyes flickered and his hands froze in the air right before he was about to start tapping again.

His associate stalked closer, quietly glancing over his shoulder, but knowing better than to say a word.

“No…”

His voice died down and his shoulders trembled slightly.

“Huh? Seven? What’s going on?”

In a blink of an eye, he got up, almost tripping over his own feet and making the chair collide loudly with the ground.

Without a single word, he ran to the door.

“Ack- wait! What with the wor-“

“Need to talk to V” Seven mumbled.

A second later, the door slammed behind him.

Vanderwood shook his head in disbelief, staring at the door for a while.

Was he annoyed? More than ever. Was he surprised? Not at all.  

Before he returned to cleaning all the mess Seven left, he briefly glanced at the satellite photos, still opened on the huge screen of his computer.

In one of them, fairly small, there was a boy. Injured, with his clothes torn apart, which wasn’t too clear because of the photo’s quality. But even the monochromatic coloring didn’t hide his white hair, dirty and messed by the hot wind breathing onto him from the nearby fire.

„We need to talk… about that hacker.”

Seven’s hand gripped tightly his phone as the other made sure his car doesn’t turn suddenly, keeping the steering wheel stable.

“What do you… want to know?” V’s voice was quiet all of sudden, but the boy didn’t really mind it much. His heart was racing from nervousness.

“I… What would I want to know? It’s just…” He took a deep breath. “He didn’t die in the fire.”

“What?”

He could almost feel V’s facade drop and he heard some shuffling, along with someone’s voice telling him to not move too much.

“Wait a moment.”

“Are you still at Zen’s place?”

“Yes, but…”

“I will be there in a few minutes.”

“I… don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“What? Why?”

There was a short silence on the other side of the phone. V sighed softly and Seven heard even more shuffling. Someone mumbled incoherently, trying to stop him from moving too much, but it seemed that everyone was already too drunk to actually care.

The soft, quiet voice could be heard when V spoke again, probably from a place where he couldn’t be heard by the others.

“Are you sure about that…?”

“I… don’t know if he’s still alive. He’s injured. But he escaped the building, that’s I’m sure of. V… I know it’s been three days, but, he may still be somewhere in this forest. He could be not able to escape too far. No one really checked it. If it’s true, we need to find him before anyone else does. Or before he… I don’t want him to die, V.”

“I don’t either, but…”

“But…?”

“MC.”

“Huh?”

V’s voice quivered slightly, betraying his own nervousness. He was clearly reluctant to talk about this, even more that any second someone could hear what he was talking about.

“She… can’t know.”

“What…?”

“She can’t. Promise me that you won’t tell her about it. Or anyone else in the RFA. And… It’ll be the best if you just leave it to me.”

“Wha- V! Are you kidding…? Did we go through the whole start to fucking trust others phase only to make more secrets…?”

“…”

“MC deserves to know. And I won’t leave it either.”

“Luciel, I really think you shouldn’t-“

“And I think you should take it seriously for once.”

He threw the phone onto the backseat, not even caring whether or not the call ends from the impact.

He drove silently for a few minutes, his mind emptied. He didn’t even know where to go now. V complicated things, as always. He didn’t change at all.

Rika wasn’t the problem from the beginning. The problem was V himself.

He stopped the car in the middle of the road and stared at the dark surroundings. It was late, almost midnight. He just barged out without a single thought, only knowing what he wants to do. Was he at least a bit considerate? Should he really risk that much only because of this suspicious feeling he had now?

Because he was more than sure that he shouldn’t just leave it like this.

Was there a reason why he was so desperate to continue this inquiry? Why couldn’t he just let go of it?

Maybe it was because it was the first time he met someone who could actually be a competition to him? The hacker’s skills were impressive, that’s for sure. They made Seven curious, more than ever.

From the moment he started digging, he kept having that weird feeling: it didn’t let him give up, even when he collapsed while going to the bathroom during this three days long restless work.

He didn’t hesitate even for a second opening the car’s door, even though he knew how dangerous driving in this state could be. Was it still devoutness or should he already call it stupidity?

Now he did hesitate. Something seemed very off in this all. Some pieces of this puzzle seemed to be missing, preventing him from finding the final answer. His mind was empty for a moment, and now all the thoughts came back with such a force that his head spun.

He rushed out of the car, slamming the door closed and leaned against it, breathing heavily.

What was wrong, what was going on?!

He couldn’t calm down now.

He heard the faint sound of his phone on the backseat and turned around, expecting to see V’s number on the screen, ready to reject the call or just ignore it.

But that wasn’t it. The phone showed a number he already knew, even though he didn’t use it too often.

It belonged to MC.

He opened the back door and reached for the phone, pressing the green button and without a word, placing the phone next to his ear.

“Seven…?”

“MC… What’s up?” he asked, trying to sound as cheerful as possible. The tiredness in his voice was more than clear though, he could tell how unconvincing he was right now.

“Is this… true? Is he…” She cleared her throat, trying to sound calm. He could hear her voice trembling though. “I heard you talking with V just now, is he… Is Ray… alive…?”

“It’s…”

“Seven… Please, don’t lie to me… Not you, at least…”

“V wouldn’t approve talking about thi-“

“I couldn’t care less now. Seven. If he really is alive. If there’s a chance. The smallest chance that he didn’t die, that he… That he is somewhere, alone, without anyone to help him now… Please, help me look for him. I can’t leave him, I can’t leave him alone, Seven. Ever again.”

He took a deep breath and held it in his lungs for a while, before letting it out heavily.

He slowly closed the back door and got back onto the driver’s seat. He shook his head in disbelief.

And spoke.

“Wait at Zen’s place, I will pick you up. Sneak out so that V doesn’t notice. He can’t find out. And you need to tell me everything you know. I will need more info. Deal?”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Chapter 1. →

Find more of my works on my Masterlist.

[irphanfic]

Moonshot - Chapter 7

I’m back! I don’t know how I managed to finish this chapter this week but somehow I made it so I’m pretty happy!

Hope you enjoy it and any type of feedback is welcome!

summary: Phil had a feeling that this Friday was going to be different.

That didn’t mean he was ready to meet his favourite baseball player, Daniel Howell, while he was cleaning the windows of a building.

or the au in which Phil is a shy window cleaner and Dan is a famous baseball player. This is their story.

words: 4.1k

no trigger warnings

Read on ao3 - (x)

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 // Chapter 6

Chapter 7 - Between Books

Phil was in heaven. He was sure he had died and gone to heaven the moment Dan and him kissed in the jellyfish’s room. And then again in the manta ray hallway. And then back at Dan’s doorstep, where he could tell both of them hadn’t wanted to say goodbye.

He had enjoyed seeing Dan in such a carefree mood, smiling the whole time, his eyes sparkled everytime a new fish appeared in his line of vision; relaxed from his baseball player ‘persona’. Even though Dan was pretty honest when it came to fame, Phil was sure there were some traits about his personality that he hadn’t been able to show the world, and this was one of them.

Dan also opened up about his childhood, about how being a professional baseball player had never been in his future plans but he could have never asked for more, how he likes to go back home and see his family and dog but cannot as much as he likes to and a few other things Phil was sure very few people knew about Dan.

It had been such a perfect first date it was unbeliveable and Phil was glad he had managed to capture some of it. They both had taken pictures of sea creatures they’d spotted, but more than once Phil was drawn by Dan’s presence, just looking at his backside or profile contrast with the blueness of the tanks that Phil couldn’t resist and took a few pictures without Dan noticing. He even sent them to Dan after their date, hoping he wouldn’t be mad at Phil for taking them without permission, but Dan was fine about them (even thanking him with some heart and fish emojis) that he even posted a picture on his Instagram, not giving any hints about his date but clearly making everyone see this 'new’ side of him.

Speaking of photos, at first, he hadn’t thought about the fact that their privacy could be invaded by photographers or press, just being happy next to Dan was enough. But what if being spotted with someone like Phil was bad for him? Dan had always dated other famous people and Phil was just… Phil. A window cleaner slash wannabe author. Either way, Dan reassured him that it was fine, as long as Phil was comfortable, of course.

Phil was glad Dan took into account his shyness. He wasn’t sure what would happen if they appeared somewhere, would he be uncomfortable? Nervous? Upset? Happy? Phil wasn’t sure yet, so once it happened, it happened, and that was it.

But Wednesday was gone now, letting Thursday in and Phil had to go back to his present life, where he had just finished watering the houseplants and was checking for new emails, refreshing the page every now and then to see if any of the editorials to which he had sent his manuscript wanted to publish his story. He had sent a few of his oldest stories some months before, but none of them were 'interesting enough’ or it wasn’t 'what they were looking for at the moment’ for them, making Phil feel a bit frustrated at all his attempts.

A ping from his phone alerted him, picking it up from the table, seeing it was a new message from Dan and instantly smiling. 'Don’t make any plans for this Friday. And yes, it’s a date.’

Phil could already feel his cheeks heating up. Why did he have to blush so easily!? Dan Howell asked him on a date and even though they had already been on one, Phil was squealing inside (and maybe on the outside too). A second date with Dan sounded great. More than great.

'Okay, what a shame I’ll have to raincheck my plan of eating an unhealthy amount of Doritos on my couch while watching anime to go with you.’ Phil joked, getting an immediate response from Dan, continuing their conversation till Dan had to leave, promising to text later.

Without Dan distracting him,, his mind started filling up with unanswered questions, 'Where will Dan take him? Would they go somewhere so public like the aquarium again? What if it rained? Was it safe to go outdoors tomorrow?’

Setting all those thoughts aside, Phil left his phone back on his deck, picking up his laptop and refeshing the email page once again, only to see its’ inbox still empty.

He could only hope for a miracle now.

______________

“Why did I do that?” Dan groaned loudly to himself just after exiting practice, remebering what had happened this morning.

As soon as he woke up he was still thinking about his and Phil’s date yesterday. Dan didn’t remember being so comfortable with a… crush? No. Friend? Surely after those kisses the friend barrier was already far away… What were they?

That question aside, he really wanted to go on another date with Phil, see if he could clear out their situation of where was their friendship? heading to, so he did. Sleepily, he picked up his phone and texted Phil, knowing that after lunch on Fridays he was pretty much free.

As soon as Phil sarcastically answered him, he continued their conversation, having to rush out of the door to arrive on time.

Now, hours later he had just remembered a little thing…

Where would he take Phil on the date? He hadn’t thought about that detail.

'Great thinking, Dan. Ask him on a date and take him nowhere, you are great at this romance thing!’ He really had to stop texting while his brain was still not properly functioning.

“What? What did you do? Wanna tell me?” Eric asked back, startling Dan back to reality.

Dan jumped a bit and sighed, not having noticed Eric next to him. Maybe he should explain to Eric all this mess?

“I might have sent a text without much thought to someone this morning and now I’m pretty much in trouble?” Dan questioned. He knew he would came up with some idea sometime, but Phil had agreed on going on a date tomorrow and he was pretty much freaking out.

“Okay… was that text that bad? Is that person going to block you or something?” Eric questioned.

“No, it’s just… I wanted to…” Dan stopped mid-sentence. Did he really want to explain everything what was happening with Phil to Eric. Dan thought he deserved it after he had helped him with that panic attack… “The story is a bit long, you have time?”

“Yeah, let’s go. We can grab a coffee.” Eric said, walking towards his car so they could drive to a nearby café.

That’s how he and Eric found themselves deep in thought on a popular cafeteria on a sunny Thursday after practice.

“Okay, have you thought of anything while you were telling me about Phil, yet?” Eric asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

“The only thing I know is that the aquarium is out for sure. We went there yesterday for our first date,” Dan said, blushing a bit as he remembered how a great time he had had, “and coffee too. As I told you we meet in person for the first time on a little café so I don’t wanna repeat it.”

“From what you told me Phil likes books and wants to be a future author, right?” Dan nooded along with what Eric was saying. “What about a bookshop? They have just opened a new antique vintage-y bookshop just down this neighbourhood and they have many classic and new novels.”

Dan’s eyes widened instantly. That was it! A bookshop! Phil would love that! And Dan liked to read too, not maybe as much as Phil but he was sure he would enjoy it anyway.

“Eric, I… Thank you so much, really. I don’t know what I would do without your advice.” Dan said, honesty clear in his voice.

“You’re welcome, Howell. I mean, from all you have told me you really like this Phil guy, right?”

“You have no idea how much, Eric.” Dan exhaled dramatically, briging one of his hand to his hair, messing his curls in the process. “I want to take this further, you know, ask him to be my boyfriend, but I’m a bit scared to do so. What if I lose him as a friend? I never felt this connection with someone, I don’t know how to explain it, but…”

It wasn’t like the world would end if Phil said no to being his boyfriend, but it was the first time Dan felt something so strong for someone and he wanted to make it right this time.

“Even though I’m pretty sure that if you ask he will say yes, Dan, you need to start following what your heart says so, not what your mind tells you. Otherwise, you will be scared forever.” Eric said to him, patting him on the back a few time before standing up from his uncomfortable chair, “C'mon, think about it on the ride home, I will drive you.”

Dan just nooded, starting to think of any way that he could ask Phil to be his boyfriend.

______________

“Martyn? Can you talk?” Phil asked as soon as he heard a greeting form the other line of the phone. Dan was picking him up for their date in around ten minutes, so he guessed he had a bit of time to calm his nerves by speaking to his brother. He had done that also on their first date and it kind of worked so, what if he tried again?

“Yeah, is something wrong?” Martyn said, voice a bit cracky.

'Stupid phone reception.’ Phil said to himself. The flat was so badly designed the signal could only be reached by almost on the street, that meant going almost outside and the best next option was the front door.

“No, but wait, I’m gonna go into the entrance hallway for better reception, I cannot hear you well.” Phil rapidly walked to it, instantly noticing the difference, “Okay, you can talk now.”

“You were the one calling me, you talk!”

“Right okay, um… I have another date with Dan and I’m a bit nervous. Distract me please.” Phil quickly said, rushing the words so much that Martyn almost couldn’t understand.

“Oh, another date already? Where are you two going? Are you going to kiss under the stars now? Or in front of a bridge?” Martyn teased. Ugh, older brothers. Phil kind of regrets telling him all about the date.

“I don’t know where he is taking me! And… and what if I don’t like it? I mean, I…” Phil panicked, trying to calm himself as he paced around the narrow entrance.

Phil noticed Martyn’s silence on the other side, he was about to ask if something was wrong when he heard a much serious voice. “Phil, don’t worry about that, okay? The place doesn’t matter, the only thing that should is that you are comfortable spending your time with Dan.” He must have sensed Phil’s nervousness before and was trying to be a nice older brother. And even if Phil didn’t want to admt it, Martyn was right.

It was Dan’s comapany that mattered. Phil would enjoy being with Dan everywhere, even if that meant spend 10 hours seein cars go by. He would be happy with Dan by his side.

“Thank you Martyn. You are right, but distract me a bit more please?” Phil asked again. Even if he was a bit more relaxed he could still feel tickles in his stomach.

“Okay. Following the Dan subject, let’s talk about baseball!”

Phil almost groaned but didn’t. His brother couldn’t leave the baseball subject for a minute since he ahd started talking to Dan, telling him to ask Dan about the Rocky Planets. A thing Phil had totally refused to do.

“The Rocky Planets are playing their first game of the season soon, tickets are almost out… you wanna try and get a few?” Martyn always asked the same thing before every Rocky Planets game. Phil had tried a few times and couldn’t go, the tickets were too expensive and he couldn’t spend so much on a baseball game if he wanted to eat for like two weeks.

“Martyn, you know I cannot spend that much money. I would love to see the Rocky Planets play, you know that. See them play for once at the stadium since I have never been there, but I can’t.” Phil sighed. “Maybe if I saved a bit of money I could, but I mostly use all my salary for everything.”

“Phil…” but before Martyn continued Phil cut him off, continuing his speech.

“And I would love to go and maybe surprise Dan. If everything ends up going fine with him, of course! I’m not saying it won’t go badly, but it could somehow… It’s just our second date I’m sure I could mess it up before something even remotely serious…”

“PHIL!” Martyn’s loud voice startled him from his rambling.

“Yeah, sorry. I…” but he couldn’t speak much more since a loud doorbell sound echoed around all the walls of his flat.

“Dan is here.” Phil said, mostly to himself, not even realizing Martyn was still on the phone.

“Well, have fun little brother! Speak to you tomorrow!”

“No, no! Martyn don’t you dare hang up…” but the line was already dead, leaving Phil still more nervous than before. 'Thanks for nothing, Martyn.’

Phil didn’t want to keep Dan waiting, so he pocketed his phone, hand-ironined his red bomber jacket a bit, rearranged his glasses and cleared his throat before opening the door with a smile on his face, even though the freaking zoo he had in his stomach wasn’t going away.

“Hi!” he greeted Dan, who was sporting a soft smile behind a small bunch of flowers, making Phil smile instantly. “Is that for me?” Phil asked, pointing at the bunch.

“Of course, I though you could have a colourful spot around all your houseplant collection” they both laughed at Dan’s remark, “It’s more of a thank you for last time so yeah, here.” Dan handed him the bunch, which Phil gladly picked up, sniffing it.

“I’ll put this in water and we can go, okay?” Phil said as soon as Dan nooded at him.

Phil quickly managed to arrange a vase with water and displayed the flowers in his kitchen table, proabably thinking of moving them to his bedroom when he came back from their date. He wanted to be reminded of this every single day he woke up, to be honest.

“Let’s go, then!” They both headed into the street as soon as Phil closed his front door, instantly brushing hands that Phil decide to lace together so they wouldn’t get lost in the busy street.

They walked slowly, trying to make the most of their touch of hands, dodging the many pedestrians that got in their way not minding if anyone stared, lost in their little bubble as they talked and laughed about random topics.

“We are almost here,” Dan suddenly said, pointing at the right turn that was ahead of them, “I think you will like the place. I have to confess I didn’t have this place in mind when I asked you on another date and I really hope you haven’t been here yet but yeah… this is it.” Dan finished as they turned to the right, ending up in an alleyway where Phil could spot a small bookshop.

The outside was painted a dark green, with big crooked brown letters hanging on a pannel, decorated with a few round bubble shaped farily lights. Right by its’ entrance there were two wooden shelves, a woman stood by the left one, searching for some paper book or newspaper looking around the thousands in there.

It was truly Phil’s dream place.

“You like it? I though that as you dream is to be an author, what a better place to be than a bookshop, uh?” Dan’s soft voice startled him, making Phil look at him with a surprised expression.

“I… I love it Dan. It seems so nice! Can we go in, please?” Phil knew he was acting as a child wanting to go into a candy shop, but he guessed bookstores for him were the equivalent of one.

“Sure,” was all Dan managed to say before Phil tugged him in, crossing the entrance and instantly gasping at the amout of shelves filled with old and new books, a strong smell reaching his nostrils, reminding Phil how much he loved books.

Phil walked through the narrow passages, drawing his fingers through the hard-covered books stopping at the horror/sci-fi section, his favourite genres of all, spotting a few novels he had been wanting to read for a while now.

“They have a few armchairs on the second floor of the bookshop if you just want to read,” Dan said to him, seeing as he had picked a few books already in both hands.

Phil looked down at the books and back up at Dan, realizing he was on a date with him, not wanting to leave him here alone, it would be a rude thing to do so. “No, I can read them other time, I don’t wanna ignore you the whole time. If this is a date you should enjoy it too!” Phil knew Dan liked to read, but he wasn’t as passionate as Phil towards books. Maybe spending three hours reading on worn out armchair wasn’t that appealing to Dan.

“What about we sit and you read to me? A few chapters at least. I really like hearing you talk, Phil.”

Phil, as it turned out, blushed at the comment but nooded, climbling up the small stairs that headed towards the dark blue velver armchairs scattered around with a few coffee tables also around.

It was surprisingly empty, just a few students around, making notes on their computers who didn’t even lift their heads as Dan and Phil walked by the far end of the floor, seatting across eachother in the old cushioned chairs.

Phil didn’t waste a minute and picked up a book from the pile he left on the small wooden coffee table in front of him, dangling his feet around the armrest of the armchair, resting his back againt the other, his soft and low voice instantly filling the little space Dan and him were in.

He got lost in the words that tumbled from his mouth carefully, creating different tones for the different characters that were starting to appear as he got further into the story, really liking how it was easily developing.

Phil continued reading, passing the pages with his fingers, loving the feeling of paper beneath his fingers and before he knew it he had almost reached the middle of the book, realizing they had maybe spent a few hours already there. Him reading and Dan listening.

“End of chapter 4.” Phil read, instanly blushing again as he spotted Dan with his phone out, taking a picture of him as he looked like a big child. Phil was sure his glasses were almost falling from hin nose, his red bomber jacket hunched in a few spots due to the posture he was in as he moved his feet around the air back and forth, right and left, right and left.

“Dan!” he almost shouted, laughing a bit and dragging the 'a’ of his name, knowing he couldn’t be mad at him after he had done the same thing at the aquarium.

“You look too damn cute, I couldn’t resist!” Dan said grinning.

Phil felt his face turning pink again, hiding behind the open book he had been reading not wanting Dan to see his rose coloured face so many times in a day. He hated how easily he blushed!

He heard Dan laughing softly from the other side, followed by a few steps meaning he had gotten up and was walking… “Don’t hide, please”

Phil noticed how Dan lowered the book form his face, picking it up and closing it, setting it down next to the others that were still in the pile as Dan sat in a free space of the coffee table, looking straight into Phil’s eyes.

“I love it when you blush, Phil. Pink suits you, you know.” Dan said, chuckling, making Phil blush more if that was even possible.

“I don’t like it, it makes me look like a tomato all the time!” Phil complained, crossing his arms against his chest and looking down to his lap.

“Come here, you.” was all Phil heard Dan say as he felt his fingers on his chin, moving Phil’s face closer to Dan’s, kissing his pouty lips with a few pecks, the kisses gradually growing longer as they moved their lips in snyc slowly, enjoying the other’s lips on theirs.

Phil sat up straighter, posing his hand on Dan’s soft cheek and guiding his head, not deattaching his lips from Dan’s as he bit his lower lip for a deeper kiss.

They were so caught up in their kiss they didn’t even realize one of the workers had entered the floor, ushering everyone out as it was almost time to close, only separating from each other as they heard a few awkward sounding coughs coming from the other side of the floor.

“Excuse me gentelmen,” Phil separated from Dan, both of them looking at eachother before turing thir gaze at the voice, “we are closing soon, if you could leave this floor it would be great. Thank you.”

The worker disappeared quickly, almost running down the stairs, a bit embarrassed she had just witnessed the both of them kissing not so platonically.

“We should go,” Dan said, his voice deep making Phil just want to kiss him again.

Phil nooded repeatedly, not trusting his voice after those kisses. As he had done a few hours before, he grabbed Dan’s hand again and headed them both down the stairs. Once they had reached the main floor Dan stopped.

“What’s wr…?” Phil didn’t manage to say anything more as Dan cut him off.

“Wait,” Dan said, stopping and turning back up the stairs, coming back down with the book Phil had been reading to him.

Phil watched as Dan made it to the register, paying for the book and waving a quick goodbye to the still embarrassed worker that was pilling up a few books that had been scattered around.

Lacing their fingers once again, Dan lead them both outside the bookstore, taking a few steps in the direction they came from.

“I’m glad you enjoyed the first chapters of book, it’s really good.” Phil spoke as soon as they exited the alleyway, “I had been waiting to read it for a while now, I think you will get a better experience now that you can read it for yourself.” Phil said, pointing at the novel.

“No, I bought it for you.” Dan stopped in the middle of the street, putting himself in front of Phil so he could look at him, “Yeah, I enjoyed it, you voice is relaxing and you know how to involve someone in a story but… I liked more the way your eyes lit up everytime you started a new page, how you manage to appreciate every inked word. You had the same expression as me when people tell me that you can see in my eyes that I love playing baseball, and that’s true and I want to see it many times more, with this book or with every other.”

Phil didn’t know what to say, he was completely speechleess. Dan had practically confessed he wanted to keep meeting Phil and enjoy his company as much as he could. “Dan… thank you. I don’t know what…”

“There is no need. Here, take it,” Dan handed Phil the novel, who brought it to his chest, clutching it tightly as it was going to escape from his hands, “that way you can still read it to me but in a more comfortable seat. Promise?”

Phil smiled widely at him and nooded. He would love to keep reading books to Dan even if he had to seat on a chair made of spikes, he didn’t care.

“Promise.”

Only a few more words were exchanged while they walked back to Phil’s flat, the sunset painting the path in orange and red tones, guiding them through the few people still left on the street, finally reaching their destination and managing to steal a few goodbye kisses before the night settled in.

Chapter 8

A/N: For this chapter I was inspired by the Shakespeare and Company bookshop that is in Paris. (Check it on Google, it’s cool) I was there for a semester and I didn’t know that it was there and I found out when I came back to Spain so yeah, I wanna go back and visit so bad!

[ladyvialana]

Fic: Hold Tight

Part of the Hope series.

Voltron Legendary Defender fic. Keith/Lance

Summary: Keith and Lance are on a mission that goes sideways.

Notes: post season 2, pining Lance, angst, minor violence, minor injuries

Also on Ao3

---

The mission was simple enough: infiltrate the Galra base, Pidge grabs the stolen intel while Hunk watches her back, Lance and Keith free the five Yexen scientists taken captive, try to avoid any patrols, if you do meet any sentries, take them down before they can raise the alarm.

This particular base was supposed to be low-risk. At the very least, nowhere near as well-fortified as Beta Traz. It should have been an easy mission.

The problems started as soon as Keith opened the door to free the scientists while Lance kept watch for any patrols. Two of the Yexen jumped Keith as soon as the door slid open, their battle cries startling the two paladins and bringing a nearby patrol down the corridor to investigate. By the time Keith managed to convince the Yexen they were there to help, Lance had taken down three sentries, one had got away to raise the alarm, and Keith was bruised all over from the rough handling by the ridiculously tall, four-armed hard-hitting scientists.

Rather than bothering with their apologies, Keith hustled the Yexen down the hallway, far too aware of the blaring siren hastening their movements.

“What did you two do?” Pidge sounded exasperated. She was panting into the helmet microphone, running as she and Hunk made their way back to the Green Lion.

“This one wasn’t our fault,” Keith protested, taking out a sentry at the next junction. “Did you two get what we needed?”

“Yeah. We’re almost back at Green.”

“Good. Take off. Lance and I will be right behind you in Red.”

Lance took out another patrol coming up behind them. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Definitely getting out as fast as we can.”

“Does this mean you have disabled the weapon?” One of the Yexen asked hopefully.

Hallway momentarily free of droid sentries, Lance and Keith allowed themselves a moment to stare incredulously at the Yexen. “What weapon?” They asked in unison, dreading the answer.

 ***

 “Shit.”

Lance could only nod in agreement at Keith’s appraisal of the situation.

The weapon appeared to be a prototype, not in any way usable if only because of its size and instability. A ball of purple energy glowed behind a glass partition in the middle of an otherwise empty room—empty because arcs of purple lightning somehow managed to slide between the glass molecules and impact the scorched metal walls at random intervals in random places.

Lance, Keith and the Yexen watched the feed of the room from a video panel next to the door leading to the weapon. It was situated in an alcove in the middle of a hallway near the main thoroughfare to the hangers. The group was very exposed and too close to the main areas of the base to remain undetected for long.

Lance made sure to position himself at the edge of the alcove with his back to a wall to keep an eye out for patrols.

“Are we sure this is a weapon and not some weird Galra art installation?” Despite his wary gaze, Lance tried to lighten the mood.

The Yexen, however, seemed offended by the quip. One of them, the bulky fluorescent orange toned one (their leader—or at least their spokesperson) said, “Of course it’s a weapon. You think a race as uncultured as the Galra could come up with something so elegant?”

“Elegant. Sure, that’s the word I’d use.” Lance tried to share a look with Keith, but the red paladin was still staring at the video feed of the weapon.

“There’s no control mechanism out here,” Keith said.

“The control panel is inside.” Orange said this as though it were obvious and not the stupidest thing that Lance had ever heard. The other Yexen (their skin tones more muted yellows like mustard and lemon) nodded in agreement.

“Inside the room of purple lightning death? Why would you design it that way?” Lance stared at the scientists, genuinely baffled by this.

“We didn’t know at the time the energy source would be able to interact with inert substances like glass in such a manner.” And now the scientists looked sheepish. “Keep in mind it is only a prototype.”

“Yeah, a prototype that can kill us all without help if the Galra don’t somehow manage to make it work well enough to do it themselves.”

Keith finally looked back over at Lance, his own wild eyes not very reassuring after Lance’s outburst which was not refuted by the Yexen. Rather than making things worse with further accusations, Keith took a position opposite Lance at the edge of the alcove to watch for patrols from the other end of the hall.

Lance groaned and activated his microphone. “Pidge, please tell me you guys are out.”

“We are. Why aren’t you?”

In the background, Hunk groaned, “Seriously?”

Lance ignored their well-founded suspicion. “Hypothetically, how would one go about disabling an unstable energy source that shoots lightning randomly through glass partitions specifically designed to hold said energy but seems to be failing at doing so very effectively?”

“What the hell?!” Pidge yelled at them.

“Are you kidding me?!” Hunk yelled at the same time.

The alarms were still blaring and sooner or later a patrol was going to catch up to them. They didn’t have time. “Just, give me something to work with,” Lance said, “because all I can think of is overloading it and blowing it up.”

Lance ignored the cries from the Yexen, who were clearly too invested in this deadly invention of theirs to be thinking straight. He could hear a patrol run by in an adjacent hallway. Keith was at the ready, still positioned protectively in front of the Yexen. Lance had his own bayard primed, his finger loose by the trigger but his arms positioned to react instantly.

Pidge hummed. “That’s actually not a bad idea if you can run far enough away before it goes critical. Where’s the control panel?”

Lance winced. “Inside the room of death right next to the glass.”

“What idiot thought that was a good idea?!”

“We have already yelled about that design flaw.”

“Then no, we can’t do that. Can we just leave it?”

Lance peered through the door again just in time to see an arc of lightning spark against a loose panel on the wall. “I don’t think so. If the Galra actually manage to stabilise this thing then it could be really bad for everyone.”

Pidge sighed. “Yeah. Hang on, we’re coming back.”

“Pidge, no,” Keith interrupted. “We’ve got patrols looking for us and you have intel we need back at the castle. There’s no point in risking you and Hunk on this too.”

“Um, how about no,” Hunk said. “We’re a team and no one is going to run off and do something stupid right?”

Keith didn’t answer and Lance stopped breathing.

“No.” His voice came out as a choked whisper. Keith flinched, turning towards him but not meeting his gaze. “Keith, you can’t.”

“Get the prisoners out.”

Lance stepped towards him but before he could even try to talk Keith out of his stupid decision, a patrol of droids arrived at the junction at the end of the hallway behind Keith.

Lance raised his rifle and took out two before they could even raise their weapons. Keith spun around and engaged two droids that ran forward. The Yexen cried out and hid as best they could behind Lance’s lanky build (which was not very effective, considering there were five of them, all at least two metres tall each).

The scuffle drew the attention of another patrol and Lance took three more out before one got a lucky shot.

“Agh!” Lance cut of the scream of pain but it was too late.

Keith spun around, pulling his bayard from the torso of a mangled droid that managed to score the hit. “Lance!”

“I'm fine.” Lance took out the last droid in the corridor, arm shaking with the strain of holding his rifle up with a wound to the bicep. He collapsed back against the door in the alcove with a groan.

After a quick visual check that there were no more enemies and the Yexen were all unharmed, Keith bolted to Lance's side to examine the injury.

Lance hissed when Keith’s fingers brushed the plasma burn.

“You need to get to a healing pod.”

“What's going on down there?” Pidge asked.

“Is Lance okay?!” Hunk demanded at the same time.

“Everything is under control,” Lance tried to assure them.

“Lance was shot,” Keith said, undermining his good work.

“I'm fine,” Lance said, trying to smile, but it emerged as a pained grimace and Keith’s panicked gaze widened. “I've had worse.”

“Lance …” Keith’s fingers reached towards Lance's cheek, as though he needed the reassurance that Lance really was okay.

“Uh, guys, you've got more patrols converging on your location.”

Pidge’s words broke the strange tension between them.

Keith straightened up, his hand falling to his side and clenching into a fist. “You need to get the prisoners out.”

“Not without you.”

Keith shook his head. “You said it yourself, this is too dangerous to leave.”

“But we came in Red.”

“She'll let you in. She wouldn't just leave you.” Keith offered a small smile. “Besides, I think she likes you.”

The smile did the exact opposite of reassuring Lance. “Keith, no.”

Keith looked down, away from Lance's begging gaze. “It's been fun. I … I don’t regret a single moment.”

Keith put his hand against the door control.

Lance moved almost without thinking. Keith might not, but Lance had one regret. A big one.

Keith’s mouth was open, ready for an argument as to why it was necessary he be the one to go in and risk his life again. But Lance wasn’t arguing.

His hand slid against Keith’s cheek, mirroring the way Keith had wanted to reach for him just before. The skin under his gloves was warm. He let his bayard dematerialise and pulled Keith closer by the front of his chest piece with his other hand, fingers curling over the top of the armour. Lance ignored the burning pain in his arm, the awkward positioning, the sirens, the Yexen, and everything else that wasn’t Keith as he tilted his head and leaned in.

Keith’s eyes were so beautiful up close.

The kiss was awkward. Lance had to lean almost sideways so their visors wouldn't catch. Keith’s lips were chapped and his skin was rough with the hint of stubble. They smelled of sweat, blood and burnt plasma.

It felt desperate and agonising and it was over too quick.

Lance didn’t know how he could have ever imagined their first kiss happening in any other way: unplanned, in the heat of battle, as one of them was about to die.

Keith’s eyes were wide as Lance pulled back. He hadn't expected that kiss—hadn’t expected Lance’s feelings. He was stunned.

Keith’s hand was still on the lock. Lance used those seconds of confusion to push Keith away and slip backwards through the now open door into the weapon room.

Keith stumbled backwards, realising too late what Lance was planning.

Lance rematerialised his bayard and shot the door control from inside the room before Keith could even react or yell out. The door slammed closed on Keith’s horrified expression.

Lightning flashed past his face, sizzling as it hit the metal door.

The energy inside the room played havoc with the frequencies in his helmet. He could hear snatches of sound from the other paladins, desperate syllables breaking through the static. He heard his name, cried out in three pained voices.

He didn’t want to do this, he truly didn’t. But they couldn’t risk the Galra using the weapon. With patrols about to come down on the fleeing prisoners and outnumbered paladins, there weren’t many options on the table. And Lance wasn’t willing to stand back and watch Keith die. This was the best option for everyone.

Lance took a deep breath and thought about kissing Keith.

No more regrets.

Lance turned and raised his rifle.

He took the shot.

The world exploded.

[blastingxff]

Fate that Binds pt. 7

This part: Cats and Rocketshipping. Almost better than pizza and beer. Also included: a poorly plot out magic plot. (Just thought about something: This fic actually isn’t crack like please proceed with caution)

first part // previous part // next part  Series: Pokemon Characters: Jessie, James, Meowth, Pikachu, Ash, Brock, May, Max, Jessebelle Ships: hints of rocketshipping if you read it that way, mostly just friendshipping though Summary: It had been a throwaway wish, something made out of the frustration of the moment- it wasn’t actually supposed to happen. But the magic of a well haunted by a pokemon’s spirit ended up altering reality. Now, Jessie, James, and Meowth aren’t in Team Rocket. They don’t even know each other. And it’s created far darker a world for the TRio than Ash could have ever imagined, and now he and his friends want nothing more than to change things back to how they were. Genre: Friendship, hurt/comfort, so much angst, all the angst, drama, butchered canon, Words: 1,269 / part 7 out of 16 Trigger Warnings (this part): abuse mention Notes: This popped into my head and didn’t get out until I wrote it down. It’s 16 chapters, and entirely written already in about three days. So that will explain a helluvalot. Like the bus-sized plotholes. I just wanted to be mean to my favorite characters, geeze, is that so bad? XP Also can be read on Ao3.

Chapter 7 (still) Six Days Before the Wedding 

The day saw James exhausted but counting the hours as they passed from day to evening. Counting down until freedom. He could only catch subtle glimpses at the clocks though, for fear of raising suspicion overrode the desperate desire to watch time pass.

Ash and his friends had left Jessie to sleep in the grass. They had ventured into the town, heading straight for a Pokémon Center in hopes of getting some information on the mysterious well.

When Jessie stirred finally she realized she was alone. But the evidence around her told her she wasn’t going to be alone for long. There was a relief that filled her as she pulled her still-bruised legs into her body, holding onto herself tight. In the gang, the moments of being alone where her only guaranteed moments of safety. Now, she felt vulnerable. Her eyes squeezed closed, “Only a few more hours,” she whispered under her breath. The night would fall. She’d see him again.

* * *

As is the way of the world, the night soon blanketed the Earth. Ash and his friends had returned with little more than contradicting fable and lore- some had seen something like the well, but much smaller and with a slightly different figure. Some had seen the large one- and had made wishes on the décor. Some claimed that it had made their dreams come true. Others claimed otherwise.

Jessie relayed the information that night as she sat with her back against a tree, fried meat in an open plastic bag in front of them as they munched in the moonlight, “It’s weird, isn’t it?”

James shook his head. He reached into the bag he had brought this time, taking out a small book with a bookmark between the pages, “Look in there, page 48,” Jessie took the book, looking over its pages in the light of the park’s lamp.

“There are two?” the photograph on the yellowed paper of the book looked near identical to the drawings on the well.

“The wells may have captured the soul of one pokémon, but the Hoopa also has two forms. Unbound and Confined. I think your friends-”

“We aren’t friends.”    

“I think the- um… twerps?” Jessie listened to the suggestion, mulling it over before she finally nodded, “may have wished on the Unbound one. As for changing things back, though the Unbound’s behavior is more unpredictable, it has a great deal of power. The Confined is more of a sure thing accuracy wise, but it is much weaker. Maybe too weak for shifting universes. It says some more stuff about strength of spirit, desire, and will and rituals, I never paid too much attention. Just seemed too old wives tale you know? You can keep the book if you want. Just so you can show the… er, twerps.”      

A rustling caught their attention. They found themselves drawn away from their book by a tattered, skinny looking Meowth who had reached into their bag, grabbing a piece of food. Its eyes widened as soon as it saw the humans no longer distracted.

“Hey! That’s ours!” Jessie spat out of habit, her shout shocking both James and the cat. She immediately reprimanded herself for the yell; she knew it freaked out James. The meowth escaped into the bushes, but she could still see the glint of its charm. It was just waiting to see if it would be chased or if it could sneak more food.

“Jess,” the man’s voice was quiet as he reached into the bag of fried meat, taking out a small piece. It was the first time someone had given her a nickname with such sincere kindness. It sort of made her happy. “I think it’s just hungry. Aren’t you?”

That was something Jessie could relate to, she watched as the man next to her held out the snack in his hand, offering it to the cat pokémon.

James… and Meowth.

That’s what the girl twerp had said. A meowth? The pokémon in question was slowly stepping forward, taking the food cautiously, devouring it with less than a second thought. James just laughed, “Tastes good, doesn’t it? Here, have some more.”

With a gentle hand, he fed the pokémon, Meowth growing to trust the humans little by little. Still skittish, but interested in the offerings, Meowth stayed close.

The twerp’s words were still in her mind. Jessie’s interest had been captured by the pokémon who had crashed their evening. Her words were as quiet as his had been, “Hey, James… do you believe in fate?”

“Huh?” He seemed to think on it. His hand empty of food, he kept it out, offering to pet the cat pokémon. The meowth only kept its distance, its position changing to one of defense. James simply resolved to get another piece of food, holding that out instead of a bare hand. The meowth approached for the food. James shook his head in the end, “When I was a kid I did. But not anymore, not really. You?”

“A little, I think.”

* * *

The morning saw Jessie arriving just in time to eat breakfast with the small group. She was exhausted, planning on laying down right after eating, but in the meantime she pulled out the small book that James had lent her.

“James showed me this,” she flipped it open to the page with the pictures of the two wells. By the look on their faces, she was sure it was a match. At least the bigger was. “Seems it’s the spirit of a Hoopa. Unbound and Contained. The Unbound one seems to jump around, kinda a wild magic if you will, but the Contained one stays in one spot. The bigger one is stronger, smaller one when it works is more in tune with what you actually wanted. Typical supernatural stuff.”

Max took the book from her hands, reading over the pages. “The tab near the back opens to a map. Apparently one of James’ uncles liked to track the Unbound one. The Contained one is in a graveyard somewhere. It’s probably too weak but check it out if you want. I’m not gonna stop you.”

“This is great, Jessie. While you rest, we can do some investigating,” Brock nodded, finishing his bowl of porridge. Jessie’s empty bowl beside her as she picked at a bit of broken skin on her nails. There was a question on her mind. One she had yet to be brave enough to ask.

“Twerps,” the word came out before she could remember she wasn’t speaking with just James. Her head shot up, ready to apologize- but their gaze on her held a shock that surprised her. “That isn’t an arbitrary name, is it?”

There was a shake of their heads.

“Fate just keeps knocking them out of the park, doesn’t it?” She tilted her head before sighing, “Anyway, I was wondering. James and I… were we… were we together?”

“You were together all the time.” Ash attempted helpfulness.

“That’s not what she means, Ash,” May then went to answer the question, “I don’t think so,” she frowned, “I think you were just really close. I don’t think either of you were dating anyone at all. Why?”

The question was less than innocent in intention, but not malicious. As though the younger woman was trying to get some juicy tidbits about her feelings. Almost like female friends who would gossip over crushes. Unfortunately for May, Jessie was having trouble just adjusting to not being the only female around.

“Just curious.” No one believed her.

[sleepyfaceandsnark]

I’ll Be Good, I’ll Be Good

Part of Here In My Arms Series

Ian tries to get Mickey outside to return some life in the mostly bedridden man. ao3

As the illness progressed Mickey’s demeanor would change. Some days he’d be the same old Mickey just a bit weaker and others he’d barely utter a word. Lately it’s been the later as Mickey has gotten weaker. He doesn’t say much other than an acknowledgement of some kind at Ian’s questions.  

“Mornin”s were met with a soft smile and “how’re you feelin?’s with a slow nod now a days.

They go through their now typical morning ritual and Ian leaves Mickey with a soft kiss on the forehead as he goes to finish some things on the computer letting Mickey rest, their other tv keeping him company in their room.

Some days Mickey was out in the living room with Ian doing the same thing but on others when he didn’t go through the effort of moving to the couch Ian just stayed out in the larger part of the house by himself, checking up on Mickey maybe too often.

If he wasn’t on the computer he was curled up beside his boyfriend watching whatever shit tv kept noise in the otherwise painfully silent room. Or he’d just talk out loud to Mickey regardless if he would respond or not.

Ian closes his computer and goes into his room. He notices the tv off and Mickey struggling with a magazine. Some home gardens shit Ian took from someone’s recyclables.  He watches Mickey look at the pictures of gardens and different homes’ flower arrangements. Its spring outside now, Ian recalls. Nature starting its cycle of life over, and Mickey was stuck in here. He watches as Mickey breathes in heavily and tosses the magazine to the side rubbing his eyes after.

“Hey,” Ian says to him after checking his phone

Mickey looks in his direction.

“Why don’t we go on a walk?”

Ian looks at Mickey and can see him not quite getting it.

“Outside?”

Mickey’s brow stops furrowing and he looks down, away from Ian.

“You can get some fresh air,” Ian says, sitting on the bed. Mickey is silent. “It’s nice out.”

Mickey shakes his head.

“It’ll be good for you.” Ian continues, trying to hide some slight desperation in his voice. His hand brushes on Mickeys noticing he’s still not looking at him.

“No,” Mickey says softly.

“Mick, come on. It’ll-“

Mickey shakes his head, “I said,” Mickey pauses to try to speak louder. “I said no.”

Ian nods and clears his throat, getting up from his spot by Mickey on the bed. “Okay,” Ian says, looking at Mickey. He sniffles. “Okay.” He repeats taking a last look at Mickey and rubbing his hand softly before leaving the room again. He closes the door softly behind him.

About an hour later he hears the creek of the door over his practically muted TV viewing. He looks to the door’s direction and sees Mickey leaning on it.

“Need something?” Ian asks.

Mickey looks down which triggers Ian to come to him.

“What is it?” Ian asks him.

Mickey bites his lip. “Maybe we can…a little bit?”

It’s Ian’s time to look confused. “Can what?”

Mickey looks towards the window.

“Go outside?”

Mickey nods slowly.

“Yeah?” Ian looks at Mickey surprised. It wasn’t the first time he tried getting Mickey outside.

“Not long though.” Mickey says softly. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Of course.” Ian kisses Mickey with a smile and gets them ready for their walk.

15 minutes later they’re outside the house. Mickey in his beanie and one of Ian’s jackets sitting in his wheelchair as Ian pushes him along the sidewalk.

“See this is nice huh?” Ian says 5 minutes down the path.

Mickey nods.

Back to silence, Ian thinks.

“Tired?” Ian asks a little later.

“Always.” Mickey lets out and Ian feels a pang of guilt for even asking.

“Let me know when you want to turn back.”

Another nod.

Not even a minute later they see someone else walking. As they get closer they start to look familiar.

“Fuck,” Ian chuckles and hears a ‘hmm?’ coming from Mickey.

“Fucking Roy or Troy or whatever.” Fiona’s most recent ex. “Why’d she date someone whose name literally reeks douchebag?”

Ian hears Mickey scoff and clear his throat. “Spotted us.” Mickey lets out.

“Fuck. This wheelchair have stealth mode?”

Mickey chuckles, music to Ian’s ears. “Only I’d be safe.”

Ian smiles, Mickey’s chuckle making him feel warm inside despite the asshole that was interrupting their peaceful walk.

“Maybe he won’t notice us.”

A grunt from Mickey.

“Hey! Ian?” Troy says as he puts his hands above his brow to see better. “Is that you, man?”

Ian tries to hide his eye roll as Troy jogs over to him.

“Hey, Ian!” He exclaims again making his way to the redhead. “Babysitting the elderly now?” He asks earning an offended look from Ian. Ian’s so shocked he doesn’t say anything. He’s about to open his mouth to defend Mickey when he hears a loud aggressive “Fuck you” come from in front of him instead.

His face turns from pissed to surprised at Mickey. Mickey barely said anything above a whisper now a days it was nice to hear a bit of the old Mickey.

“Oh shit! Mickey, man. I’m sorry. You just look…are you sick?”

Mickey laughs sarcastically “Nah I just love being wheeled around. Fuck walking, right?”

Ian covers his mouth to try not to laugh directly in Troy’s face. It’s been a while since he’s heard Mickey’s quips.

“I’m really sorry. Fiona never mentioned anything.” He says looking up at Ian. Ian notices now Troy is hunched over to look at Mickey like he’s a child. Ian’s sure Mickey isn’t too happy about that.

“Why would she?” Ian interjects. Knowing full well Troy was gone or almost gone before Mickey got sick.

Mickey coughs and Ian’s not sure if it’s from his remark or not. Troy shrugs Ian off. “I’m sorry, Mickey. I feel like such an asshole” Troy takes his attention back to Mickey.

“You said that already Richard,” Mickey remarks. “I’m dying, man. Not fuckin deaf.”

Ian swallows hard at the “dying” part. Mickey wasn’t dying.

“Plus you already are an asshole,” Mickey continues. “No need for your recent comments to prove that.”

Troy is left speechless. Ian manages to hide a smirk and offers Troy an sort of apology.

“Sorry about this one,” Ian says tapping Mickeys shoulder lightly. “It’s the meds, you know?” He whispers.

Troy nods “Oh right, right. Of course.”

Ian holds his mouth tight to not laugh as Mickey rolls his eyes.

“Well see ya around, Rory” Ian says grabbing the handles to Mickey’s chair to move forward.

“It’s Troy.”

“Right, right. Well see ya.” Ian says moving both of them away from the man.

“Hey you know about that dying thing I didn’t-“ Mickey starts as soon as they’re out of Troy’s earshot.

“Yeah. I know.”

“Good.” Mickey nods.

“You want to head back now?” Ian asks.

“We…don’t have to.” Mickey looks back to Ian.

“Yeah?” Ian asks surprised with a hint of giddiness.

Mickey shrugs. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“You want to just keep walking?”

“Yeah. Or…” Mickey thinks. “We could head to your old house?”

“Yeah? You sure?”

Mickey shrugs. “Why not? It’s been a while.”

“Okay,” Ian says with excitement in his voice. “Encounter with an asshole put a little pep in your step huh?”

Mickey chuckles. “Yeah maybe.”

“Maybe I’ll get douche bags to come by the house more then.”

“God please don’t.” Mickey groans mockingly.

Ian laughs as they head on their way to the Gallagher’s.

Soon after wheeling Mickey up to the backdoor they discover the house is empty.

“Hmm,” Ian says. “Guess everyone’s out. Wanna head back?”

Mickey shrugs. “We can wait. Unless you’d rather be home.”

“Nah,” Ian says gripping the handles on Mickey’s chair and pushing him into the living room. “Let’s see how far Carl got in that Resident Evil game I let him borrow.”

“Isn’t that shit like 5 years old?”

“Yeah but he doesn’t know that.” Ian turns on the tv and game console and flops down on the couch next to Mickey. “And I happened to beat this shit 3 times”

“Wow 3 times?” Mickey says sarcastically. “You should put that shit in Guinness World Records or something.”

Ian laughs. “Shut up.”

“You wanna play?” Ian asks when the start screen comes on.

“Nah,” Mickey waves away the offer of the controller. “I do want to sit by you though.” Mickey grins.

Ian gets up to assist but Mickey waves him away again. “I got it.”

“You sure?”

“Mhmm,” Mickey says quietly, trying not to visibly wince when he gets up. He walks over Ian the redhead watching him gleefully as Mickey sits down by him. “Now. Show me what you got Mr. “I Beat-This-Game-Three-Times”.

Ian gives a wide grin as he presses play.

An hour or so goes by and Mickey is passed out on Ian’s lap. Finally Ian hears the front door open and mumbling as the person entering was talking.

“…do you know what I’m saying?” They say more clearly as they enter the living room. It’s Fiona, Debbie right behind her.

“Ian!” Fiona exclaims seeing her brother on the couch. Mickey rubs his eyes and sits up. “And Mickey. What’re you…”

“Ian’s here?” Debbie questions excitedly, turning towards them, eyes finally away from her phone.

“What’re you guys doing-? I mean how did you get-?” Fiona always spoke awkwardly around them since Mickey got sick. Always tried too hard to not make it obvious. What she really wanted to say how did they make it out of the house without having to go back in 5 minutes later?

Ian just smiles. “We took a walk. Ended up here.”

“Huh.” Fiona lets out.

Debbie puts her phone down and heads to the other side next to Mickey. “It’s good to see you out of the house and everything,’ she says.

“Debs…” Fiona starts.

Mickey grins. “Yeah it’s nice to be out.”

“You feeling any better?” she asks.

Mickey breathes in and shrugs next to her.

“Um you can stay for dinner if you want? Lip’s coming by after work and Carl should be out of detention soon.”

“Uhh…” Ian turns to Mickey to see if he’s okay with it.

Mickey smiles and nods as if to say sure why not.

“Yeah that’d be nice,” Ian turns back to Fiona.

“Great,” She smiles. “I’ll order a pizza or something? That okay?”

“Sounds amazing.” Mickey lets out.

After getting off the phone with Lip to pick up the food after his shift, Fiona comes over and sits in the living room with the rest of them.

“Hey so guess who we bumped into on the way here,” Ian says when she takes her seat. He looks at Mickey who starts chuckling.

“Who?”

“One of your infamous exes.”

“Jimmy?”

“Haha fuck no.”

“Who?”

“Richard.” Mickey says.

“Troy?” Fiona asks, knowing Mickey liked calling him Richard because Richard is long name for Dick.

“Fuckin’ Troy,” Ian says, emphasis on “fuckin’”.

Fiona laughs. “Jesus. That must’ve been fun.”

“Mickey got rid of him quick.” Ian laughs nudging Mickey by him.

“What can I say,” Mickey says. “I still got it.”

After Lip and Carl’s equally surprised reactions to seeing Mickey and Ian in the Gallagher’s house they sit down to eat.

“Hey,” Fiona whispers to Ian beside her. Ian turns to her. “He seems to be doing better.” She says nudging in Mickey’s direction, noticing him listening to Lip and Carl’s conversation with an amused look.

“Yeah,” Ian says softly watching Mickey as well. He smiles looking at him but his smile quickly fades as he turns towards her. It’s solemn, soft. “We’ll see how long this lasts.”

Fiona closes her mouth, speechless, nods, and tries to give Ian a reassuring smile but he’s turned back to Mickey by now.

[multsicorn]

KENT PARSON

LOLZ it’s like you know me

this is so long it’s under a cut

character: hate them | don’t really care | like them | LOVE them | THEY ARE MY PRECIOUS

ship with:  EVERYONE.  literally everyone.  … okay to break this down:

* Jack/Parse is the main thing I write about and think about and have feelings about.  however they are generally pretty sad-trending feelings.  so what does ‘ship’ mean.

* Parse/OC(s) is the thing I actually WANT TO HAPPEN for him, it’s the happy place future I go to when I go that far in my mind; not to get back with Jack, with or without Bitty, but to get the FUCK OVER those wounds, that hook, finally.

* (I have a tendency to go for Parse/Swoops, specifically, cause I’d like the ‘falling for a teammate’ story to work out *well,* and, um, cause there’s a specific set of tags that I started keying that off of that I should go find again - it was on a post about ace Kent Parson, something like #he wants to be someone’s everything #in a very specific way, and.  idk.  it makes a compelling story-seed, for me.)

* Parse/THERAPY is also an extremely necessary thing that I’m not likely to write but I dearly hope happens someday

* PB&J/Pimbits/whatever it’s called is my favorite sort of shippy story, I think; there’s lots of Parse/OC fics that are JUST AS GOOD, but… the overlaying of multiple love triangles, and then synthesizing them into a working system, that happens in the Jack/Bitty/Parse fics that work with the setup there (rather than skipping forwards into ‘when they’re all happy together’)… gets my #feelings well enough that it dragged me into this fandom!….  specifically, I started reading first check, please! fic and then eventually the comic because touchy subject and ain’t licked yet are not only so fucking good but hit my id SO PERFECTLY.  Everyone having feelings about everyone else’s relationships.  Such wonderful emotional ~density!

* Patater is the only popular Parse ship I’m like… why.  (I do buy des-zimbits’ ship manifesto about how they could be good together; but, c’mon, that’s not why, the reason why is cause Tater is the next-most-fleshed-out NHL character who isn’t Jack, and isn’t already fairly strongly paired with someone else, and can therefore be paired with Kent without disrupting any existing popular ships.)  Basically I’ve read some good ones, but most of it seems to be the exact sort of fluff that is why I mostly don’t read Zimbits fic and mostly do read Parse fic!  (And that’s before even getting into #little Russian things that throw me out of the story.)

* But really, just, anyone; I read the Parse character tag on AO3 so I won’t miss the gen fics or the random crack ships, cause sometimes they’re good!  (I think this is what it’s like to be way more OTC than OTP.)

friendship them with:  JACK jack jack jack jack.

Also Bitty that could be so interesting, I want to see them navigating a friendship around their separate feelings/history/etc. wrt Jack, I want to see that #blessyourheart and Parse’s probable answering antagonism (or simply antagonism born out of jealousy) morph slowly into something that’s somehow an actual friendship, that can be really interesting!  And fun!  And I love to see them being petty together, lol; I also love to see them commiserating over why is Jack Zimmermann such a dick, depending on circumstances.  (… I suppose those two can be one at the same.)

So yeah, that’s fun, but Jack and Kent getting back to a place where they can be friends with each other?  Where Jack’s not like ‘um Parson *abort* *ignore ignore*’ and Kent’s not tearing Jack into shreds at being rejected and they can have conversations and maybe some of those mutual apologies alluded to in Shinny and maybe ~closure,~ even?  For the way ‘it just ended’?  The idea of after years of wounds getting to put to rest the bad parts (cause I suspect their relationship was A Mess) and get back the good parts of one of your old best friendships again?  It makes me more #emotional dammit than anything else about this comic.

(the lines I’ve been thinking about here, lately:i said i’d never miss you but i guess you never knowmay the bridges i have burned light my way back homeon the fourth of july~)

there’s something i can’t seem to reduce or explain any further about ‘may the bridges i have burned light my way back home’ that just GETS TO ME.

general opinions: SO MANY.

I love him.  I mean, obviously.  If one takes a look at my blog.

But, interestingly, I’m not quite sure why I don’t read him as abusive.  (If anyone from Glee fandom remembers the way I was about Sebastian…!)  Some of the things he says to Jack in Parse III - ‘you think you’re too fucked up to care about?  That you’re not good enough?  Everyone already knows what you are, but it’s people like me who still care’ - and ‘you’re scared everyone else is going to find out you’re worthless, right?  Oh, don’t worry, just give it a few seasons, Jack, trust me’ - are ABSO-FUCKIN-LUTELY red flags, and I’ll throw down with anyone who says they aren’t.  (I mean.  I hate confrontation, so I probably won’t? but in theory.)  Likewise, coming to Samwell/the Haus in the first place when he seems to know that Jack wouldn’t want to see him if he had a choice about it… is also an awful thing to do, if possibly understandable depending how you write the backstory and decision-making or lack thereof, but also a red flag!!!

I mean, basically, you can read ‘Parse III’ as literally one of the worst nights of his life, and when he’s behaving the worst, as something that’s not much of a pattern and so you shouldn’t judge him on it too harshly; or you can read it as HE IS SOMEONE WHO BEHAVES LIKE THIS, abort abort get away.  I find trying to take what we see and still make someone sympathetic to be a much more interesting story, basically, and the bones of a very compelling one; but in my experience with other characters in other media who have triggered my own pattern matching to be ‘abort abort get away,’ I have utter sympathy and understanding for everyone who has him blacklisted to hell and back, and I’m actually still not sure why I don’t myself!  (of course if I had reacted that way I wouldn’t be in this fandom at all, so I wouldn’t have much need to blacklist him… but ykwim.)

SO OKAY HM WHAT ELSE, cause if I’m listing all of my opinions on Kent Parson I could literally be here all night.

* ‘He never got over it��� may sound cruel but it just so happens to be the truest thing.  Kent’s not really still in love with Jack (though I’m sure he was when they were both 18); he doesn’t really know him, hasn’t really seen or talked to him in seven-ish years, now.  In which they’ve both changed.  But Kent’s in all that time never managed a relationship with anyone else (… probably); never managed to reorient himself sufficiently away from the horrific failure that losing Jack in the particular way he did was.  He never got over it isn’t just your stupid ass, Zimmermann, you’re not that great!, it’s the wound of finding your best friend and lover dying on the bathroom floor (or hearing about it later secondhand, that’s great too), it’s the wound of him not wanting to talk to you or hear what you have to say afterwards.  How the fuck would you get over something like that.

* (so, I mean, that’s why I love Kent.  His STORY is so much more INTERESTING than zimbits’ romcom or the smh team shenanigans; or, well, okay, it’s objectively a different flavor of emotions at least.  And the higher drama and angst quotients there are infinitely more interesting to me.)

* I think he’s a good captain for the Aces, actually.  I think he enjoys parties, getting to interact with lots of people, loves attention and flirting, etc. - and dancing/dance music too! - but I don’t think he’s ~partied~ in a problematic way since maybe his first year on the team.  (Or if he has, it’s in a few isolated incidents.)  He’s generally responsible trying to look out for his rookies and his teammates in trouble.

* AND OF COURSE HIS CAT, who is the love and light of his life, and also more popular on the internet than he is.  There are tons of people who recognize Kit Purrson from her photos but have no idea who Kent is.  He loves it, I’m sure.  =^.^=.

* He is, however, really bad at controlling his own emotions.  (Or should I say, himself.)  It’s fine when this results in impulsive spending, cause he’s a multi-millionaire, it’s fine when this results in being ridiculous or gushing at people, and he IS actually able to keep secrets, though this would probably surprise most of the people who know him but not that well.  (he’s not out yet, so.)  But he says REALLY MEAN AND UNFAIR things to people he cares about when he feels rejected/abandoned (… I’m sure that time in Parse III is not the only time), so, that’s a problem, he knows it gets him into trouble, and I don’t think he’ll learn how to not until, um, THERAPY ~*~.

* HE IS SUCH AN ATTENTION WHORE THO.  Also great at being ~charming.  (see, e.g., the accountant sketch, as well as the epikegster) - and pretty genuine with it!  He LIKES people!

* He is also a FUCKING MESS - possibly not in the #adulting sense, maybe he can feed himself, who knows, but, emotionally - I think he both longs for connection with people, and fears it going south, cause, well.  The last guy he was in love with almost died (almost killed himself? I bet you couldn’t tell from the outside!) and then stopped talking to him.  And very possibly also for reasons predating that incident, too.  Cause if Kent had the sort of relationships he wants to have with people IN LAS VEGAS, then he wouldn’t have crashed the epikegster in the first place.  So: lonely, and dealing with it poorly, no matter how well he’s doing otherwise.  But not sad all the time.  I think that’s all of the important things?

* (I’m not sure where the line between ‘opinions’ and ‘headcanons’ lies, so, yeah, I’m gonna cut myself off here.  Maybe I’ll write ‘my list of random Parse headcanons’ next!  Or maybe not, who knows.  But I would LIKE to.  Everyone wants to know how I imagine his sexuality, his family, etc., I’m sure; well okay, I want to write about it, anyway!  Not only waiting till the times I’ve finished a fic!)

[standinshadowedsilence]

The Flame

[also on AO3]

“-one-year anniversary of the massive multi-player online game that swept the world. We are here with-"

"-what made The Flame so unique was the removal of items like health potions and instead a more reality based system were certain items and actions are required to trigger healing and other results. This system opened up an entirely-"

"-the gaming platform which the Flame utilizes was made by the late Theodore and Alihana-"

"-just announced that they will be adding a 13th Clan to the game play options. This is not to be confused with the non-playable Clan known as-"

"-the new clan will be initially populated by 100 randomly selected users who will lose their original characters if they accept. -"

"-everyone is now wondering what will the infamous Holder of The Flame do now? Will they bring the 13th Clan into the alliance or will-"

"-dedicated gamers are beginning to wonder if this new clan will lead to a character finally claiming the coveted title of 'The Flame's Chosen'. No one has held this title since the death of the young gamer who previously-"

"-in local news, the trial for the murder of renown mechanical engineer Jake-"

"-a reminder that the C-LX VR platform has a safety feature built into allow users immersed in the world to still hear things like fire alarms in the real world which will cause their avatar to pause while the player is forcible returned to the real world in order to check their surroundings. This feature was added after the tragic deaths of designers-"

"ELIZA LEX! GET OFF YOUR ASS AND COME HELP ME!"

"I'M COMING!"

*click*

With a sign one Eliza Lex rose from the battered second-hand couch and headed to her one of her best friend's bedrooms in the back. Having meet in undergrad the three of them had become inseparable, to the point where they agreed to move in together after graduation. Well, after they graduated. Eliza herself was still in med-school.

Walking into her friend's room Eliza couldn't help but laugh.

Lindsey was caught in the process of changing, clothes half-off but entangled in her bushy hair and snagged on knee brace. It appeared as if she had attempted to change her pants and when that had failed decided to change her shirt only to also get stuck there as well. Over all the image was hilarious.

"Oh, stop laughing miss high and mighty and help a lady out."

Grinning Eliza walked over, automatically helping her friend even as she teased the mechanic.

"How is it that you can change parts on over a dozen machines with your eyes closed but you can't change your clothes on your own?"

"It's not my fault the stupid brace-" Lindsey cut herself off. A flash of pain crossed her expression before she blanked it. "So, anything good on the news?"

Eliza sighed. "Just the anniversary of The Flame and various deaths."

"Oh." Lindsey winced again. This time because of which death she was sure have been on the news.

"Liza..."

"I'm fine Linds."

Lindsey didn't look like she believed her, but by this point Eliza had finished helping her get dressed. Both women stood there awkwardly for a moment. At last Lindsey sighed.

"Come on. Let's get going before you're late to your shift."

Normally Eliza would go by herself, however, today was Thursday. Lindsey had rehab at the hospital Tuesdays and Thursdays, so she would carpool with Eliza and hang out at the hospital until Eliza's lunch break at which point the other woman would give her a ride to work. Their third roommate - Marie - would then pick Lindsey up from work.

It'd been two months since Lindsey had been released after the accident. It'd be at least another three before she would be cleared to drive again.

Ten minutes later the house was empty.

No one would notice the blinking new email notification on the desktop until significantly later. By that point, everything would be different.

"-no Cory. I have no intention of telling her." The woman sighed into her phone as she entered the waiting room. Distracted from her searching, Eliza couldn't help but wonder who the woman was, who she was talking to, and why she sounded so tired.

"Of course, I'll be fine. I'm of the Woods Clan." Eliza rolled her eyes. It'd figure that The Flame would spread to influence people so much. Her respect for the stranger went down some. Not that she should be judging someone based on a one-sided conversation she overheard.

Quietly Eliza went back to flipping through medical records looking for the one she needed. With half an ear she heard the other woman end her phone conversation. Silence filled the small area until someone cleared their throat awkwardly.

"Um excuse me? I'm here to check in for my appointment. Alicia Woods?"

Eliza raised an eyebrow. Well. Maybe she had judged too soon that the woman was a Flame fanatic. Sighing to herself she sets down the file she was flipping through.

"Hang on. I'm not really supposed to handle appointments. The secretary stepped out, but I'll see if I can't grab one of the nurses."

Alicia nodded. She remained quiet while Eliza used the pager to call for the nearest nurse for the front desk. Eliza fought the urge to fidget as they waited. Turning back to the file she'd set down earlier she was startled when the other woman spoke again.

"So, what do you do? If you're not supposed to handle appointments."

"Oh." Turning back around Eliza met the other woman's eyes, momentarily distracted by the sharp green of her eyes. "I'm finishing up my doctor's degree here. Technically I know how to do it, but they don't like me doing the nurses jobs for them when I'm supposed to be a surgeon."

Eyebrows raised in surprise, although Alicia's expression remained otherwise blank. She opened her mouth to presumably ask another question when a harried nurse skirted around the corner.

"I'm sorry Dr. Lex, we had a- a situation with one of the patients."

Smiling softly, Eliza stepped out of the way and allowed the frazzled woman to login at the terminal and gather the needed paperwork.

"It's alright Misty. Was it old man Quan again? I can go talk to him if he's giving you problems again."

"Oh no Dr. Lex. There's no need for you to get involved. You do enough as it is. There's no need for you to worry. We'll handle it. You're supposed to be off shift anyways." Despite the placating tone Misty had started with, her gaze had narrowed onto the folder held loosely in Eliza's hands. Smiling sheepishly Eliza handed over the folder when Misty gestured for it.

"I just wanted to see how she was doing."

"Mhm. And she wouldn't tell you? She's your roommate after all." Eliza sighed.

"You know how stubborn she is. Even this morning she-"

"*crackle* Doctor Eliza Lex, Doctor Eliza Lex, please report to your mother's office. *crackle*"

Eliza sighed. Rolling her eyes she sent a soft, apologetic smile to Misty.

"Duty calls."

She tried not to think about the pair of green eyes that followed her out.

The Flame. A world renown MMORPG which utilized the C-LX Virtual Reality gaming platform made up of gloves and headpiece. Characters can now choose from 14 Clans, one of which is the non-playable clan known as the Maunon, or the Mountain Men. At the time of the initial game release the original 12 clans were arrayed on a map set 90 years after the Apocalypse. Each clan was given a history, culture, and various clan only titles and positions they can achieve, as well as inter-clan titles and positions they could go after.

A portion of that history included an on-going conflict with the non-playable clan. According to the game guide it was possible for players to defeat the Mountain, however, in the year since the games release no one has figured out how to do so. There is no record of any prerequisites, conditions, or anything else which may hint at how to defeat the mountain and the Mountain Men which live inside. Most players believe that doing so is the end-game condition for The Flame and so beating the Mountain may alter the very format of the game in some unpredictable manner.

Players - upon choosing their clan of origin - are required to pass a short quiz on their clan history, choose a character name from the millions allowed for their clan, and other basic features for their character. Upon death the character resets, losing all titles, levels, and special items. Only non-quest items are kept, but as most of those have stat or level restrictions, players work very hard to avoid death and the character reset. Players can change clans upon petition and meeting the requirements set by the clan's current leaders.

There is one aspect of the game lore that is standard across the clans. The Flame. A unique item which when claimed gives the player with it the title of 'The Commander', or 'Heda' in the games language. In order for a player to utilize the Flame they must first achieve the status of Natbilda or 'Nightblood', a status that so far appears to be randomly achieved. The clan of origin doesn't matter, as once one becomes a nightblood, their clan affiliation changes to that of 'Polis'. Confusion swept the game world when the first nightbloods and members of Polis were discovered. What followed was an extensive search of the world map and the discovery of a no-PVP zone known as 'The City of Polis'.

Initially made up solely of NPC's, Polis was a treasure trove of information on game lore, quests, items, and player titles. Included among these NPC's is the Flame Keeper, Titus. When approached by a non-nighblood, Titus gives a standard speal about him being the protector (ruler) of Polis and advisor to The Commander - The Holder of the Flame as Titus calls them. Thus the media calling the player currently holding the Flame 'The Holder of the Flame' rather than Heda or the Commander. Political leaders didn't like the media calling a random citizen by such a seemingly high rank, even if it was just in a reference to a game.

It wasn't until shortly before the current Commander's rise to power that the message Titus gives the nightblood was released to the public. Apparently, the nightbloods are told a significantly more in-depth version of the game lore. This includes what qualifications they must meet to become the Commander. Most interpret it as demonstrating three traits, passing a test on their lore knowledge, and equipping the Flame. It's the last on that lead to the standing belief that a nighblood must kill the other nightbloods to secure their rise to power. Most players - the ones not obsessive with PVP - think this is bull, as many who gain the nightblood status don't actually aspire to be the Holder of the Flame. That doesn't stop the threads, blogs, and comments about players needing to ensure the death of other nightblood players.

Prior to about four months ago, the clans had waged war against each other as well as the Mountain. Then a new Commander rose to power. No one knows how she found the Flame, only that her first act as Commander was to begin uniting the Clans. Once people started to get on board with an alliance between the Clans, new titles and positions were discovered, serving to increase public sway to the new alliance.

For a short period of tie during this initial uniting period it looked like the game world would also have their first Flame's Chosen - the second-in-command to the Holder of the Flame. At least that's what everyone assumed when news of the new Commander's shadow was discovered. This shadow was another female character who was nearly always spotted at the Commanders side. An overheard conversation confirmed that the shadow player would become the Chosen. Neither player was seen without the other. Until one day the Commander's Shadow didn't. No one knew what happened until someone connected the dots to a local gamer dying while playing the game.

Just after that report all rumors of the player chosen as the Flame's Chosen were squashed. Brutally. In the three months since then the Holder of the Flame has ruled over the world of the Flame and lead multiple attempts to defeat the mountain. Each one only slightly more successful than the previous. But that success cost a lot of well-known players their character stats. Shortly after they began, the assaults stopped. A balance returned to the game world. Violence against the mountain and competitions between the clans to keep from outright war.

This is the situation into which the 13th Clan will be added. We can only wonder how the new clan will adapt, and who will be chosen for the initial 100 members.

    -A thorough summary of The Flame's history, by Bos-Kin Gamers